Last Weekend
I planned on writing an elaborate post tonight about the media’s coverage of Whitney Houston’s death. As the child of drug addicts, I’m really bothered by how she’s been both glorified and vilified—she’s left her fucking daughter all alone—and by how this is “all Bobby Brown’s fault.” Yes, he’s a an asshole who beat her, but she broke up with him years ago: her tale is way more complicated than dark bad boy love.
ANYWAYS. I’ll write about that later.
GNR was okay last night. I prefer Axl from the nosebleeds, mainly because the crazies in the last row are more fun to party with. Everyone at Terminal 5 was too cool to have a good time.
Things I learned from the Emily Books event:
-I need to email some people and offer them cocktails.
-Box wine and the N train don’t mix.
-I should chill out and live life more.
-I should be more appreciate of the mentors I sort of have.
