impromptu

Things are all Animal House here on the Slope. Crashing on Steven’s couch with two roommates, which brings the total occupancy to 4. (Four! Mwahhahaha… four! People waiting for the shower at eight am!!) Coffee-deprived grownups say the snottiest things, i.e.:
“R. Kelly can no more conduct a symphony by waving his arms around than I can breakdance by standing on my head.”
Or so says Steven, resident classical-music genius and Lincoln Center Assistant-to-the-Czar, as we discussed the new Teedra Moses (more on her later), the shower clog, and the merits of R.’s Space Jams (when his sole known moral offense was Cliff’s-Noting classical maestros before playing one in a video. R. Kelly is apparently not a method actor).
As a handwaiter to the higher-ups, Steven’s presence was required at the Mostly Mozart Gala, which I am told is a mondo happening for the bourgie-boo and benefactors: $20,000 a plate for Lincoln Center donors, who have to unload the francs gros so they don’t get screwed by Mr. Tax Man at the end of the fiscal moon-cycle. We shall forgo comment on the staggering class imbalance of this scenario, and skip straight to the part where Steven, my future roommate and familial life partner, downed Wild Turkey and white wine at said gala and, by the time the concert rolled around, actually PASSED OUT in a PRIVATE BOX at Avery Fisher Hall—one of the world’s foremost hi-class cultural institutions—all before Yefim Bronfman made it to Piano Concerto No. 25. With this kind of scene, I have no idea why LC is having attendance problems. Another thing: what are they doing serving Wild Turkey at a $20,000 gala? Would it kill them to spring for a nice Jim Beam Black Label, at least?
In other news: I have proof Sasha’s dog walker/Jessica’s white whale travels above 14th: Stephin Merritt sighting on the corner of 42nd & 6th, near the Bryant Park Starbucks kiosk—minus Snookums, but reading a Zagat guide. I wouldn’t have recognized him with a bald eye, but Steven told me who he was, cause they rock the same parties.

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