I’m staying with a friend, who I lived with briefly in the 90’s. Walking up to path to her home today, I felt emotional. Heart palpitating, tears to the eyes, the whole nine. This is the house she lived in all those years ago. That I stayed at. That I called my home too. The moments of yesterday with me now. One difference: We lived upstairs, now she ruled the roost of the first floor. Still, the layout so the same. A replicant.  I let myself in, key left for me. Alone with 90’s me, with now me, in the place I came back to every night after I toiled away at The Network. Still managing to do BUST, while so far away, pre-internet ease.  I wandered through the rooms, so familiar. The pieces that built this home–tables, couches, beds–may have changed, but the “being there” aspect? So the same. I felt comfortable. Like I was home again. And that felt really really good.

Pat McGrath: “Since the early ‘90s I’ve been obsessed with pushing the boundaries of beauty.”

Chimamanda Agozi Ndiche: “If feminism were really accepted we wouldn’t have a room full of men making decisions about women’s bodies.”

Elizabeth Gilbert: “We will walk together as far as we can go together.”

More declarations of YIPPIE re: Wonder Woman.

Cher is coming to Broadway!

What’s your take on porn?

And now have a laugh with Judy Gold.