So it’s been fifteen years of service to The Gnome King, one of my co-conspirators/sweeties. He’s an attorney AND a pastry chef, and that most dangerous thing: a top who pays attention. He’s been using my own words against me for over a decade and I love him for it. #poly

In my dream I head downstairs through the grey loft building to escape the conference of curators before the entertainment begins: Rob Lowe singing “The News Blues”. On the ground, I’m captured by the queer zines on sale in a shop and know what I need to make next.

In my dream the dog has my keys clipped to his collar and because I’m not holding his leash he starts trotting off into the darkened street. I head after him calling “Stop Lehigh, stop” but he ignores me. I get more frantic, and call louder until I realize that that isn’t his name, it’s my previous dog’s name and now I need to remember his.

In my dream R is visiting from Europe and her new work is astonishing: elaborate drawings of entwined bodies and planned installations. She has transformed herself: her limbs are gone below the elbows and knees and across her back is a detailed tattoo of a hairy chest with defined abs. She has gone so far. I’m stunned and jealous.