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Let's be a sapphic dinner party hosted by Susan Sontag and "mercilessly bullied" lover Annie Leibovitz

I'm the exchange of icy barbs over whether to set the Arabia Ruska stoneware or the faïence de Gien that Susan shipped to NY from Paris, where she spent healing time in the puces after her heroic service in Sarajevo. Or whether to set the table at all! Stack the plates and self serve.

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by Anonymousreply 27Last Thursday at 3:06 AM

I'm the ivy slowly growing over the walls of the house while this debate takes place, covering, covering.

by Anonymousreply 101/13/2021

I'm the razor in Sontag's shirt pocket.

by Anonymousreply 201/13/2021

I'm the leather and vinyl.

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by Anonymousreply 301/13/2021

I am a copy of Camille Paglia's "Sexual Personae" that someone has smuggled in and displayed in the guest bathroom.

by Anonymousreply 401/13/2021

I'm the bag of Doritos, Cool Ranch flavor AND the Friendship Sour Cream served right from the container.

by Anonymousreply 501/13/2021

I'm one of the many manques. I am the strict absence of area rugs. The fort!/da! of drapery free windows nevertheless hazed in cigarette smoke.

by Anonymousreply 601/13/2021

I’m the salt being passed to Laurie Anderson

by Anonymousreply 701/13/2021

I'm The Joy of Gay Sex with a flattering inscription from Edmund White sitting incongruously on a kitchen shelf between a copy of the The Perennial Political Palate by Bloodroot and a can of Dean & DeLuca branded lobster bisque.

by Anonymousreply 801/13/2021

I'm brining the moussaka

by Anonymousreply 901/13/2021

I'm an ancient ‘Joe’ Carstairs, Standard Oil heiress, wearing what she swears is Mercedes de Acosta's eye patch.

by Anonymousreply 1001/13/2021

I'm Terry Castle, wallflower, mentally caricaturing the other guests.

by Anonymousreply 1101/13/2021

I’m the tall, commanding David Byrne.

by Anonymousreply 1201/13/2021

I don’t understand their style. Tell me more.

by Anonymousreply 1301/13/2021

I'm Ashton Hawkins (invited himself) hitting on a Glorious Foods cater waiter (pissed he didn't get the Oscar and Annette de la Renta gig uptown) (Ashton is pissed he wasn't invited to Annette's party, as well.)

by Anonymousreply 1401/13/2021

I’m the dildo cock hidden under the bed

by Anonymousreply 1501/13/2021

I'm the three cases of chilled Dom Perignon sent as a gift to Annie from Richard Geoffroy that at the last minute Susan refuses to serve. "Too obvious, I will not be gauche caviar!"

by Anonymousreply 1601/13/2021

I'm Lou Reed, imperiously stubbing out my cigarette in my half-eaten dinner, then thrusting it behind him without a glance, certain that a servant will remove it from my hand.

by Anonymousreply 1701/13/2021

You bitches are good at this.

by Anonymousreply 1801/13/2021

I'm Rita Mae Brown and I'm pissed that everybody here is being so goddamned snooty about my cat mysteries.

by Anonymousreply 1901/13/2021

I'm David Rieff suddenly invading the Sapphic sanctum and rudely demanding my coke allowance.

by Anonymousreply 2001/13/2021

I am Susan attempting to explain to Ms. Leibovitz that her smoking a cigar qualifies as camp only if she holds it like Groucho did without being aware of it.

by Anonymousreply 2101/13/2021

I'm Mia Farrow and I just can't DO this tonight, okay? I mean, I told you I just couldn't do this, remember?

by Anonymousreply 2201/13/2021


Extra points for the Ashton Hawkins reference!

by Anonymousreply 2301/13/2021

[quote]I’m the tall, commanding David Byrne.

I always thought David Byrne was very tall, but then I served him a drink at a club where I was bartending. I barely recognized him because he's not even 5'10".

by Anonymousreply 2401/13/2021

I’m the monotonous drone of Robert Wilson’s voice.

by Anonymousreply 2501/13/2021

I'm the distinct, alluring, sweet spicy smell of opium coming from the fire escape. Why, that's NOT YSL Opium.

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by Anonymousreply 26Last Thursday at 1:44 AM

I’m the punch bowl of clam dip.

by Anonymousreply 27Last Thursday at 3:06 AM
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