Aim for the Pink

More of our relentless coverage of Continuity Now (now can you get a sense yet of how differently our drinking is when it is paired with something other than anger and a barstool -- snide commentary about actual things, rather than just presumed or remembered), God's Day Edition (yeah, not your God, you event attending with no write up something something).

Sunday's wristband was pink. Given how poorly we communicated our witty and incisive commentary from Saturday, we decided to start low and head down: "What, is this going to be Day Without Creativity?" Shortly thereafter, I headed into the bathroom, where free copies of Tokion were available even in the stalls, and realized the urinal cakes were the exact same color as the wristbands. After two days of drink, drug and general exhaustion (look, sitting through a couple discussion panels isn't building Rome, I know, but any event that demands Team YM be up before noon is going to strain our good cheer), staring at the urinal cake and the wristband (coincidentally on the same wrist I use to manage such affairs), I start to get confused about where I should piss. It seems like a good metaphor, if by good, you mean a nonsensical one. I told myself "Aim for the pink". But that wasn't the best advice, given the circumstance.

[There were fewer peplums on Day 2. But more neckbeards. -D]

I was spending more time in the bathroom because I was trying to avoid watching the Death of the Conference Panel Panel, also known as Mark Gonzales (dude, your site needs updating) stoned out of his fucking gourd (Korine probably was too, but he was holding it together better). [You neglected to mention our exchange at this point. 99: Is Harmony Korine still a junkie? Me: No, look how fat he is. - D] They were 'interviewed' by a man who I won't name because our rabbi got us $14 thimbles of champagne (tip to spirits community: mitten laynards on drinks really are the way to go for consumers like Dana) and the parole officer told us being nice might help our long-term prospects. But if you ever get asked to be on a panel with a guy who has a name like Larlo McDoorprick, run very far, very fast. As he attempted to gain access to the stage, Dana started audibly wailing "No, no! Nooo!"

[I will give the stoners this: They managed to flummox "Larlo" so much that he was barely able to ask self-aggrandizing questions. At one point he turned bright red. -D]

It was nonetheless entertaining, mostly at the point where Gonzales was simply giggling uncontrollably, finally begging to Harmony to 'help him' while the entire audience knew that exact moment of stoner nadir, and laughed sympathetically. [A baby in the audience started to cry. From my notes: I know how he feels. -D] Otherwise, the key phrases of the afternoon comprised the following:

"Irascible Visionaries."
"Can you talk about how difficult narrative is right now?"
"When you get bored you try to make things happen."

[At this point, the Gonz took out a harmonica and started playing it into the mic. I wrote in my notes: I wish I had a harmonica. -D]

And the most impressive insight of the day, from Gonzales: "Anyone that skateboards knows: you have to push to go."

[Personally, my favorite part was when "Larlo" asked Korine about fatherhood. Larlo: So now that you have a kid, do you have any insights on fatherhood? Korine: I don't have a kid. Larlo: You don't? Korine: Nah man. Aborted. -D]

Then the guy who tried to sit next to Dana to take photos turned out to be David Blaine, who, even though he acts very much like he's embarrassed by any attention, apparently still carries around a fresh, cellophane-wrapped pack of cards everywhere he goes, and he threw some at Harmony. After, Dana turned and told him she wished he had thrown them at McDoorprick. [What 99 didn't know is that when Blaine asked me about sitting next to me -- I told him the seat was broken -- I thought, briefly, Hey, that's David Blaine, but then decided he was too shrimpy. Isn't David Blaine supposed to be all buff? -D]

Team YM them repaired to a neighborhood provider of drink. Curt turned out to be the pushiest bar patron ever (our server, helpfully attired in a boy scout oxford, parried all his requests ably) and we were the loudest drunks in the East Village. This has more comedic resonance when you understand that it devolved into a Very Special Episode of Dana's History of (Female) Bodily Functions. [At one point I thought Curt was going to fold his 6'3" frame into a some compact shape so that he could hide under the table. Also, the topic was germane to the conversation in that I was suffering from a bout of intestinal distress brought on by two Bloody Marys and a plate of baked beans. But you have to concede that you were interested, Curt. You even admitted you found high colonics fascinating. -D] That, and the fact that every person who returned from the restroom observed that all our words were entirely audible even inside, but we managed to forget and talk shit about whomever took a turn. I didn't notice because my reflection in the brushed stainless towel dispenser over the sink made me think it was Gerhard Richter for Target.

[We actually got back to the conference in time for a panel we had no intention of attending in the first place, but by the time we realized it, it was too late. I noticed a man in peplum short pants -- this is getting out of hand, this peplum thing. -D]

All I have from the last panel is that even though we are cop haters to a woman around here, I will advise assholes with badges that out there somewhere is an artist from MIT who wants to fuck you and put you in her art project (Dana: "She is the Sarah Silverman of video performance artists"). [Have you forgotten the moderator whose breasts distracted from the fascinating black-and-white animation of the ball rolling down the escalator? {Dana also admiringly observed she had a "heart shaped ass"- 99} That artist, by the way, said something about how YouTube equaled the "values system of high art" and how he wanted to capture the "pictoral temporal movement without narrative." -D] The most fitting conclusion would be the proprietor of www.gooo(53 o's)ooogle.com. He was the coolest of the lot, and waxed philosophical about both the good and the bad of appropriated art. He used a (serious) funeral video for one of his works, and wondered about how the person who posted it originally might feel about that, and what he would do if it was taken down: "At this point, I think I could find another funeral." [My favorite part was during the Q&A. Some guy in the audience asked 53 Os guy "How do you monetize your art?" He replied, "I work a day job that pays me $10 an hour. That's how I monetize." -D]

Note: Dana was supposed to annotate this with the best lines, but she's burying a body in Washington Square Park right now. Curt doesn't have a clever wristband because we marched him straight on in. We have that kind of juice.

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds There She Goes, My Beautiful World