18. The time Lady Gaga saw me naked
late summer nostalgia & the propellant of petty rage
Hello everyone and happy end of the summer (although I’m a firm believer in endless summer, at least psychologically speaking). These waning August days remind me of other weird and waning summer days nearly a decade ago.
I want to start off by talking about the time that Lady Gaga saw me naked.
Marina Abramović and Hugh Jackman also saw me naked, amongst scores of others attending the 2013 Watermill Center benefit in the Hamptons.
I didn’t see them see me, though. I was standing for hours with a lampshade on my head.
The event, titled “Devil’s Heaven” was described as having an “ominous and sensual atmosphere.” I was a part of Trina Merry’s “Objectified” installation.
How did I end up there? Well, I was living in NYC, and a bodypainter I’d met at a motorcycle rally asked if I was available to model for an installation at an event in the Hamptons she was assisting for. I arrived the night before the event in a carpool from the city. I slept on a basement floor with people I’d just met.
The next morning we started early. It was all hands on deck painting bodies and preparing for the benefit. Two bodies became “Magnolias” that would be intertwined at the event’s entryway/ threshold. Others were painted to blend in or contrast with trees.
I was furniture. A lamp painted in Bauhaus style. Throughout the event I held poses for 3-5 minutes. People could come up and use a feather duster on me. It was surreal and soothing—I loved being seen without seeing. Hearing the din of the event, the murmur of conversation and people’s delight and surprise.
Fun/weird fact: In revisiting these memories, I found out that there was a resurgence of interest in this event in 2020. QAnon (remember them lol) circulated photos from the event claiming one of the other painted models was the actor Ryan Singleton, who was found murdered in California a few days later. They asserted that he was killed as part of a satanic ritual involving Lady Gaga. This has since been debunked by Reuters.
My archive overwhelms me sometimes. Looking back on photos from that time gives me vertigo. I was absolutely feral—girl-shaped chaos and malaise—and really trying to grow up, looking around for possible directions to grow into. In some senses, not much has changed.
Summer allows us to be feral. To squeeze juice from moments, drip sunshine down our arms. At the slit of a portal between seasons we’re left a little wrung out. Citrus skins waterlogged with the memories of squeezing.
I’m mustering the verve to return to teaching and studying after spending many of my summer days like a little Victorian lord suffering with consumption. There were adventures a-plenty, but for the most part I read poetry, drank wine and felt vaguely melancholic.
I also notice my stubbornness in refusing to use the word “hangover.” After a night out, I’ve used words like “post-drinking anxiety” and “headache.”
So in preparation for the new semester, I’m trying to induce headaches in other ways. I’ve written before about how disempowering Portuguese bureaucracy is. Recently, I learned it’s better to navigate these systems whilst caffeinated.
Currently, I’m in the process of trying to get two books that were shipped to me out of customs. Unfortunately, the mail system and the financial system parted ways some years ago so there is no centralized or straightforward way to do this.
So, I downed two espressos and marched into the post office. I took a deep breath and let a long stream of rapid-fire Portuguese out of my mouth, speaking firmly when the attendant asked me if I’d tried to use the online portal, which hadn’t been working.
Idon’tunderstandwellwhataboutpeoplewhodon’thaveaccesstotheinternetwhatdotheydo?
My situation didn’t change, but I felt more in control, and received a heartfelt apology about the way things are.
I’m really curious about how other people deal with external obstacles. How do you deal with obstacles? Are you galvanized? Discouraged? Do you wait, caffeinate, self-medicate, rage, seek counsel in the wisdom of others? Leave a comment below if you’re so inspired.
Me? I find solace in getting whipped up in a frenzy of petty and self-righteous rage. My pettiness is a propellant— where other ways of staying motivated or afloat fail me, being spiteful and petty at systems is my rocket fuel.
Creative update:
I have a little place-based dispatch in Majuscule.
Caveat: there are two typos in the opening paragraph! I’ve emailed the editor and hopefully they’ll be fixed soon. My Jupiter in Virgo can’t handle that.
I’ll leave you with this sound for your midweek:
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Thank you for spending a slice of your beautiful time with my words. As always, this monthly dispatch is free to you! If you want to support me further, you can subscribe to my paid tier or Venmo me (duffylala) or PayPal ( duffylala [at] gmail . com)— may love, blessings, and a healthy dose of pettiness light your way. See you next month <3333