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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 108December 3, 2022 5:28 AM

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

by Anonymousreply 1January 13, 2021 8:51 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 2January 13, 2021 8:53 PM

I'm the leather and vinyl.

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by Anonymousreply 3January 13, 2021 8:58 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 4January 13, 2021 8:59 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 5January 13, 2021 9:02 PM

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 6January 13, 2021 9:05 PM

I’m the salt being passed to Laurie Anderson

by Anonymousreply 7January 13, 2021 9:12 PM

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 8January 13, 2021 9:12 PM

I'm brining the moussaka

by Anonymousreply 9January 13, 2021 9:19 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 10January 13, 2021 9:22 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 11January 13, 2021 9:28 PM

I’m the tall, commanding David Byrne.

by Anonymousreply 12January 13, 2021 9:29 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 13January 13, 2021 9:37 PM

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 14January 13, 2021 9:38 PM

I’m the dildo cock hidden under the bed

by Anonymousreply 15January 13, 2021 9:46 PM

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 16January 13, 2021 9:50 PM

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 17January 13, 2021 10:34 PM

You bitches are good at this.

by Anonymousreply 18January 13, 2021 11:45 PM

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

by Anonymousreply 19January 14, 2021 12:41 AM

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

by Anonymousreply 20January 14, 2021 12:50 AM

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 21January 14, 2021 1:59 AM

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 22January 14, 2021 3:12 AM

r14

Extra points for the Ashton Hawkins reference!

by Anonymousreply 23January 14, 2021 4:13 AM

[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 24January 14, 2021 5:42 AM

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

by Anonymousreply 25January 14, 2021 5:58 AM

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 26January 14, 2021 10:44 AM

I’m the punch bowl of clam dip.

by Anonymousreply 27January 14, 2021 12:06 PM

Sometimes one does have to ‘femme up’ in order to earn one’s supper

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by Anonymousreply 28January 27, 2022 4:28 AM

I'm Susan's assistant, coming back from the store with cigarettes for Susan, Annie, Lou Reed, Gary Indiana and Jim Jarmusch. They each smoke different brands. When the assistant (who doesn't smoke) gets Jim's brand of choice wrong, Susan calls her a "fucking idiot."

by Anonymousreply 29January 27, 2022 4:37 AM

[quote] Susan calls her a "fucking idiot."

But in an ironic way, of course.

by Anonymousreply 30January 27, 2022 4:39 AM

I'm Fran Leibowitz, and rest assured that I have nothing to do with these pretentious twats.

by Anonymousreply 31January 27, 2022 4:40 AM

I'm the crate of remaindered copies of THE VOLCANO LOVER, rescued from Barnes and Nobles and banished to a dark closet. Just pretend I don't exist.

by Anonymousreply 32January 27, 2022 4:44 AM

I'm Cookie Mueller (who will never be invited back), bored out of my mind, shooting up in the bathroom.

by Anonymousreply 33January 27, 2022 4:47 AM

Did Sontag bully Leibovitz or was that a joke?

by Anonymousreply 34January 27, 2022 4:47 AM

[quote]Did Sontag bully Leibovitz or was that a joke?

Sontag bullied everybody, but especially Annie Leibovitz.

by Anonymousreply 35January 27, 2022 4:51 AM

I'm the non-artist/non-celebrity being ignored. At least I'll get a good article out of this nightmare dinner party.

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by Anonymousreply 36January 27, 2022 4:51 AM

I’m Camille. I am not invited

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by Anonymousreply 37January 27, 2022 4:59 AM

I'm the lipstick-lesbian portrait that Annie took of Jodie Foster in a slinky red dress, in Malibu, in 1988. The guests can't see me. I have been hidden in the fired maid's water closet, away from Susan's jealous, critical eye. But Annie whispers her eternal love to the photo late at night, while secretly listening to recordings of John Hinckley's pre-assassination attempt calls to Jodie.

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by Anonymousreply 38January 27, 2022 5:20 AM

Even in that dress and posed like that, Jodie is still butch af.

by Anonymousreply 39January 27, 2022 5:23 AM

I’ll be the eggshells that Annie has to navigate on a nightly basis.

by Anonymousreply 40January 27, 2022 5:25 AM

Annie Leibowitz deserves to be bullied for her awful current-day photography.

by Anonymousreply 41January 27, 2022 5:32 AM

I'm Sontag's output, and while I'm wildly inconsistent, I display flashes of genius, lyrical design, and insight decades later.

I'm Leibowitz's output. I don't even come close.

And everyone present knows this.

by Anonymousreply 42January 27, 2022 2:08 PM

I’m Jordan Roth toasting to “this great nourishment of words and supplication of images”.

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by Anonymousreply 43January 27, 2022 2:26 PM

I’m the icy stillness that descends over the table the moment a guests begins to gush.

by Anonymousreply 44January 27, 2022 2:41 PM

I'm the darting eyes that accompany the icy stillness.

by Anonymousreply 45January 27, 2022 8:27 PM

And I'm the icy stillness that falls when someone speaks the word "diesel."

Dead. Silence. Frost. Forming. On. The. Insides. Of. The. Windows.

Never mind that its use was in a sentence about energy economics in the transportation industry.

Suddenly Fran Lebowitz's cell phone rings and its ringtone is a truck honking its monster horn. She says, "Fuck me!" and everyone relaxes.

For a moment. No one was relaxed for more than 30 seconds in Susan's presence. She saw it as a sign of sexist disrespect, even with other professional sapphics.

by Anonymousreply 46December 2, 2022 12:47 AM

I'm Kathy Acker and I have fucked both of you.

by Anonymousreply 47December 2, 2022 12:50 AM

I'm the uneaten dinner.

Except for "special guest" Dolly Parton's portion, which was consumed in a half-second. Because the plating comprises a lengthwise-third of a green bean, four grains of just-sprouted quinoa, and a thumbprint of "foam sauce."

Dolly then says, "Ladies, pass those plates, please. Susie, go grab me the pots and something to put them on so the - is this table masonite? - doesn't burn. I'm going to see if I can fill one cheek at least because, honey, I am HUNGRY! Any salami in that big ol' Meneghini La Cambusa fridge in there?" They do as they are told.

by Anonymousreply 48December 2, 2022 1:02 AM

I'm Pauline Kael, rolling my eyes.

by Anonymousreply 49December 2, 2022 1:14 AM

I'm Robert Downey, avant-garde filmmaker. I'm currently resenting the fact that my stupid fucking useless kid has refused to be photographed in the nude by Annie.

It's just masturbating in front of lesbians, kid. We've all done it.

by Anonymousreply 50December 2, 2022 1:15 AM

I'm Mary Boone, seething with rage at the fact that Barbara Castelli has also been invited. Fucking Gold-digging WHORE.

by Anonymousreply 51December 2, 2022 1:16 AM

I'm Barbara Castelli, makin g the sign of the evil eye at Mary Boone. Foul WITCH.

by Anonymousreply 52December 2, 2022 1:17 AM

I'm Robert Downey Jr.

Help.

Please.

by Anonymousreply 53December 2, 2022 1:17 AM

I'm John Waters trying to make a case for the release of the Manson girls but nobody is paying me any attention.

by Anonymousreply 54December 2, 2022 1:26 AM

I’m Susan’s long sigh of disappointment when Annie asks who wants to play Pictionary.

by Anonymousreply 55December 2, 2022 1:39 AM

I'm the 20-year-old NYU intern whom Susan spent three hours chatting with and flattering her intellet before trying to fuck her. (True story. It happened to a friend's niece.)

by Anonymousreply 56December 2, 2022 1:51 AM

I'm the wind whistling between the gap in Lauren Hutton's teeth.

by Anonymousreply 57December 2, 2022 2:09 AM

I'm Ultra Violet, about to serve the lobster thermidor in a rather unusual way.

by Anonymousreply 58December 2, 2022 2:10 AM

I'm Gerard Malanga. I'm a famous photographer. Somehow.

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by Anonymousreply 59December 2, 2022 2:13 AM

I'm Karen Finely, right behind Ultra Violet, with the baked yams.

by Anonymousreply 60December 2, 2022 2:14 AM

^^^Finley

by Anonymousreply 61December 2, 2022 2:16 AM

I'm the Phranc CD playing quietly in the front room. The CD player is set on repeat, so I play over and over and over.

by Anonymousreply 62December 2, 2022 2:16 AM

I'm Monica Randall, Annie's deranged Victorian-era-obsessed piece on the side. Watch me out-twirl Stevie Nicks as I remove six shawls, two stoles and a sable scarf.

by Anonymousreply 63December 2, 2022 2:22 AM

Mentioning Barbara Castelli & Mary Boone. You guys are GOOD.

by Anonymousreply 64December 2, 2022 2:26 AM

I'm Rosie O'Donnell, and I want to bring this dinner party to Broadway as a psycho-drama. I want to cast myself as Annie, and cast Madonna as Susan Sontag. It will be a box office hit and win all the Tonys.

by Anonymousreply 65December 2, 2022 2:36 AM

I'm the portraits of Spring Byington, Agnes Moorehead, Mercedes de Acosta and Elvis Presley on the walls of the hallway leading to the powder room.

by Anonymousreply 66December 2, 2022 2:53 AM

I'm the joint Lauren Hutton plants firmly in her cuspid gap to stop the whistling.

by Anonymousreply 67December 2, 2022 2:54 AM

We’re the after-dinner organic cigars.

by Anonymousreply 68December 2, 2022 2:55 AM

I'm the woman dressed as Virginia Woolf (People assume she is a hired "statement.") reminding guests that Susan's "real" surname is Rosenblatt.

by Anonymousreply 69December 2, 2022 2:58 AM

We're a plate of "Alice B. Toklas" brownies.

Robert's teenage kid ate five of us. He's taking a little nap under the piano now.

by Anonymousreply 70December 2, 2022 3:15 AM

Ah'm Jerry Hall.

Ah just love beautiful things.

by Anonymousreply 71December 2, 2022 3:22 AM

I'm Ingrid Sischy and her date, who used to be in The Symbionese Liberation Army.

by Anonymousreply 72December 2, 2022 5:29 AM

I'm 22-year-old Sarah Paulson loitering outside the building entrance, hoping to sneak in with Nicole Stéphane and hit on her in the elevator before crashing the party.

by Anonymousreply 73December 2, 2022 5:46 AM

I'm Uma Thurman. I am also refusing to be photographed in the nude, but only because I have large zit on my navel and I feel all gross.

by Anonymousreply 74December 2, 2022 6:02 AM

R37, Jesus Christ, Camille managed to out-cunt Susan. I didn't think that was possible.

by Anonymousreply 75December 2, 2022 6:14 AM

I'm Renata Adler's already-greying braid.

by Anonymousreply 76December 2, 2022 6:15 AM

I'm Wallace Shawn. making notes about the conversation for my new play, My Dinner With Angry.

by Anonymousreply 77December 2, 2022 6:16 AM

I'm Joan Didion and why is this Cruella-haired cunt always stepping on my lines?

by Anonymousreply 78December 2, 2022 6:30 AM

I’m the glaring absence of television sets in the apartment

Glaring

by Anonymousreply 79December 2, 2022 6:47 AM

I'm the glaring, period.

Glaring.

by Anonymousreply 80December 2, 2022 6:48 AM

I don't understand most of these references. I'm lost.

by Anonymousreply 81December 2, 2022 7:18 AM

Well, Tom Wolfe at R81, you weren't invited anyway so fuck right off.

by Anonymousreply 82December 2, 2022 7:20 AM

I'm a decrepit Diana Vreeland. I'm half-sozzled and under the impression that I am somehow visiting Lauren Bacall and Lauren has done something rather unfortunate to her hair. Everyone humors me because they love my red silk cape.

by Anonymousreply 83December 2, 2022 7:26 AM

I'm Dick Cavett. Have you met my lovely wife, Carrie Nye?

by Anonymousreply 84December 2, 2022 7:27 AM

I am Alice Notley, my feminist poetry is iconic.

by Anonymousreply 85December 2, 2022 7:27 AM

I'm the sharp whistle of displeasure drawn in between Lauren Hutton's teeth when Sigourney Weaver enters the room.

by Anonymousreply 86December 2, 2022 7:29 AM

I am Gore Vidal, rolling my eyes even more violently than Pauline Kael.

by Anonymousreply 87December 2, 2022 7:35 AM

I am Philippe de Montebello.

And you're not.

by Anonymousreply 88December 2, 2022 7:37 AM

I am Janet Flanner and I am beginning to get a little bored.

by Anonymousreply 89December 2, 2022 7:42 AM

I am Lee Bontecou, and they are not vaginas, god fucking dammit.

by Anonymousreply 90December 2, 2022 7:52 AM

I'm the joint Robert Downey Jr. and Uma Thurman are passing between them under the piano.

"One day...I'm going to be as famous as Valerie Bertinelli!" Uma says.

"Coooooool...." Robert murmurs.

by Anonymousreply 91December 2, 2022 7:56 AM

I’m Sontag hip checking Leibovitz and telling her sharply to put her fucking camera away.

by Anonymousreply 92December 2, 2022 10:39 AM

I’m Annie’s epic financial problems. I cleared this entire guest list quickly once I was revealed.

by Anonymousreply 93December 2, 2022 12:06 PM

I'm Alice Neel. I've painted nude portraits of everybody in the room. Everyone sags.

by Anonymousreply 94December 2, 2022 1:41 PM

I'm Annie Sprinkle. I'm a feminist too!

by Anonymousreply 95December 2, 2022 7:20 PM

Put your tits away, Annie.

by Anonymousreply 96December 2, 2022 7:25 PM

Camille Piglia doesn't have many rooms she can enter without being knifed in her ugly cunt.

by Anonymousreply 97December 2, 2022 7:54 PM

I'm Judy Chicago and I've brought my own pussy pink dinner plates--with lips, lots of lips.

by Anonymousreply 98December 2, 2022 8:07 PM

I'm Avital Ronell and I'm making fun of American feminists wearing ugly shoes. Oh, there's Annie Sprinkle - I'll go over there, she's more interesting than these pseudo intellectuals.

[Nobody has any idea that I'll be MeToo-ed one day - and over a male student!]

by Anonymousreply 99December 2, 2022 9:38 PM

I don't really believe that Susan invited Barbara Hershey Seagull. I cannot sit at a table where she will attempt to prod a forkful of "Juiced Oyster Delicatesse" through those two red pillow lips that obviously have no feeling.

I heard sometimes she just stabs her lip with a canapé pick and there it wobbles until she bumps into it and rams it through to where she still has sensation. Meaning her tongue.

And never any blood. It's terrifying. A woman should bleed.

by Anonymousreply 100December 2, 2022 9:56 PM

What year is this party taking place? 1972? 1985? 1993?

by Anonymousreply 101December 2, 2022 10:01 PM

I’m Annie secretly digging through the guests’ coats piled on the bed, looking for spare change.

by Anonymousreply 102December 2, 2022 11:04 PM

I'm Lydia Lunch, waiting in the alley outside. Fuck, Annie is taking forever!

by Anonymousreply 103December 2, 2022 11:27 PM

I am the quite vicious slap given to Leibovitz by Sontag and the lively after-dinner debate it provoked: was this camp worthy of Crawford or mere bullying?

by Anonymousreply 104December 2, 2022 11:57 PM

I’m Edmund White. Just popped in for after dinner drinks and coffee. Everyone sparkles and laughs when I speak. Susan glowers. Annie L looks more relaxed.

by Anonymousreply 105December 3, 2022 12:07 AM

I can't tell if this evening would be legendary or something I would outrun sound getting away from.

by Anonymousreply 106December 3, 2022 3:47 AM

I’m Susan, ashing her cigarette in Annie’s drink and then laughing.

by Anonymousreply 107December 3, 2022 3:57 AM

I'm Victoria Floethe.

Am I late?

by Anonymousreply 108December 3, 2022 5:28 AM
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