Month: July 2018

TueNight 10: Glynnis MacNicol

In her just published memoir, No One Tells You This, Glynnis MacNicol chronicles her 40th year as a single woman without children, and what it means to live without a blueprint. “The narratives we have around women’s live are very narrow — nearly every story ends with a marriage or a baby. I wanted to tell a story that ended with neither, and yet was (hopefully) still compelling and reflected some truths about my own life and the lives so many women I know are living. And living well!” Amen! Glynnis is the co-founder of a women’s networking group called TheLi.st, and has written for The New York Times, The Guardian, The Cut, and many others. Here is her TueNight 10: 1. On the nightstand: My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. I’ve only read the first few pages but already find myself eager to get back to it. I love the premise of a woman alone in a room; it feels like a strange, appealing subversion of A Room of One’s Own;  Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke …

TueNight 10: Allison Yarrow

Over the last few years author Allison Yarrow has been reinvestigating the stories that were told (and sold) about women in the 90s, culminating in her new book 90s Bitch: Media, Culture, and the Failed Promise of Gender Equality. (She shared some of her wisdom last week at TueNight Live!) On tour for her book, Allison says, “I love meeting people and discussing how narratives about women shaped a generation and the current moment. Writing a book about history has encouraged me to reflect on my own history and how what I watched, read, and heard shaped my own upbringing and the person I am today.” An award-winning journalist, Allison has written for the New York Times, the Washington Post, Vox, and many others. She was a TED resident and produced the (amazing) VICE documentary Misconception. Raised in Macon, Georgia, Allison now lives in Brooklyn, New York. 1. On my nightstand: Like A Mother by Angela Garbes, Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, No One Tells You This by Glynnis MacNicol, Brave Not Perfect by Reshma Saujani, and How Not to Get Shot: And Other …

Summer Issue: 90s Bitch

Hanging in my office at the Philadelphia City Paper in the 90s, was a wildly vivid, fluorescent-colored poster that read “Las Lunachicks” and it featured an illustration of a woman with jet-black hair, mouth open in anger, brandishing a gun aimed to rain hell on anyone who got in her way. Designed by artist Frank Kozik for Riot Grrrl band The Lunachicks, the poster epitomized the moment in time, maybe my own internal monologue. A woman at the beginning of her career, screaming against the patriarchy, vying to be heard by any means necessary. Back then you might have called her a bitch, but she was cool as hell to me. The Lunachicks were loud, garish, three-chord punk rock with albums like Babysitters on Acid, Binge & Purge, Pretty Ugly. I liked them just fine; I liked so many artists at the time — as a music editor it was my job. But that poster was everything. I got it in 1993 and it stayed on my office wall for the rest of the decade. …

TueNight Live: Photos from “90’s Bitch” at The Invisible Dog

Last week, on July 17, TueNight Live rolled back a few decades to celebrate our latest issue —  90’s BITCH. Over 80 people gathered in the beautiful Brooklyn art space The Invisible Dog Art Center to listen to stories from Lunachick Theo Kogan, DJ and modern muse Crystal Durant, artist and author Jenny Laden and TueNight founder Margit Detweiler and a discussion with author Allison Yarrow and her newly released book 90s Bitch: Media, Culture and the Failed Promise of Gender Equality.  On the walls of the space we featured beautiful art by Anne Mourier, Erika Hokanson, Maya Sariahmed, Vanessa Belli, Jenny Laden and Vadis Turner. We sang along to our 90s Spotify playlist. It was a blast (from the past) to nosh, drink and gab with so many friends and fans of TueNight. All photos by the talented Erika Hokanson. A beautiful — albeit muggy — July night at The Invisible Dog. Friends gathered, including artists from the building like Claudia Paneca and featured artist Anne Mourier.       We also picked up a little fresh produce from …

A Warped Tour: One Lunachick’s Life on the Road

It was 1999, a full-on, hot and sweaty Summer. We were getting ready to go on the infamous Vans Warped Tour that is ironically — or un-ironically — touring for the very last time this year. By “we,” I mean me and my BFF’s — three friends from Laguardia High School with a big sister from another mister who, in 1987, started an all-female band called the Lunachicks. We did it for shits and giggles, but it became an accidental career. All of our favorite local bands had broken up, died from heroin overdoses, or other accidents, or literally just disappeared into the ether. (That happened, but that’s another story.) So we figured we’d just make our own thing. Each one of us — Squid, Gina, Sindi and me — all had good, diverse musical tastes. We liked everything from Funkadelic to The Runaways to The Stooges, to Black Sabbath to KISS…. Just for starters. And we just thought playing in a band would be a good time. By 1999 we had been doing it …

artwork by Jenny Laden 2018

Unmasked: The Day I Visited Dad in the AIDS Ward

artwork by Jenny Laden 2018 In the hospital lobby they looked at me funny when I told them I was visiting the 3rd floor. I took off my headphones, turned off the Pixies on my CD player, wrapped the cord around it and shoved it into my backpack. In the hallway, the tv’s were showing interviews with Magic Johnson, who’d just told the world he was HIV positive, and Anita Hill, who’d just told a bunch of politicians about how shitty her male boss was and instead of dismissing him, they put him on the Supreme Court. This was my first,  “I’m visiting my super sick parent in the hospital regardless of the fact that I’m only a teenager” hospital visit. They don’t have special passes for visitors like me. Nobody seemed to notice I’m not even voting age.   “I’m here to see my dad, Richard Laden, Room 323.” I said. The woman there didn’t look at me, but acknowledged I was there with a quiet “mmhmm,” and handed me something blue. A mask. Like …

The Case of the Bad Panties

In 1992, I was 23 and the girl who had sex on the first date, if not before.Not coincidentally, I was also drinking too much and dating a lot of low-wattage losers. After a few drinks, I found myself far more interested in what my date was like with his clothes off. To get him to shut up, my underpants came down. But this strategy was getting me nowhere. I was beginning to suspect that it might be better to date people who didn’t bore me into having sex. It was around this time I was asked out by someone I actually liked, a person in whom I potentially could invest time and energy. He was a gentle, shy creature, the type who might be scared off by my willingness to — well, by my willingness. How to keep myself from jumping him pre-appetizer? The beauty of my solution lay in its simplicity: I would wear a pair of panties too embarrassing to reveal to him. The panties in question were a pair of threadbare, …

Yada, Yada, Yada: Why My Seinfeld Shorthand Is Still Relevant Today

“Potato Salad!” That’s the first phrase I remember my sister saying that made us both crack up so hard that we were both in tears. She was telling me a story that involved a friend of hers in a bunch of crazy scenarios, and after about 15 minutes of detailed explanation, she just stopped and shouted “POTATO SALAD!” We both just fell out and laughed our asses off, because I knew exactly what she meant – which was that this friend of hers was nuts, and possibly a homeless guy wearing a bad toupee while running around Manhattan while pulling a rickshaw. If you’re a Seinfeld fan, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe you could even give me a quick but full synopsis of the episode, “Kramer’s Rickshaw Adventure.” My sister Addye and I are BIG Seinfeld fans and we speak “Seinfeld Shorthand” to each other just about every day. We’ve been doing it since the show first came on, waaaaayyy back in July of 1989. There were a lot of great shows …

tuenight 1996 patty mayonnaise faith cummings

9 Lessons I Learned from My 9 Favorite 90s Shows

Oh, 1996: The time in which my eighth year of life on this Earth came to an end and my ninth began. I had begun to take school seriously (#honorrollgoals), spent most of my time in dance class and didn’t care about too much more than my coke bottle glasses and whatever new sneakers were coming out for the week that I could sport on casual Fridays (the perks of being a private school girl.) The year was also a pretty fantastic time for television. I still frequently hear that television kills brain cells and that it’s an idiot box, but I have always begged to differ. Like any kind of media you consume, it can be either imbecilic or informative and, though a balance is best, there’s absolutely no reason why you cannot take any major keys from the telly. I’m still gleaning some epic lessons from television and fondly remember the messages I received from the good old year of 1996. Here are a few from some of the legendary (well, in my …

TueNight 10: Amy Sohn

Amy Sohn kicked off her writing career in the mid 90s with an autobiographical column in the New York Press called “Female Trouble,” where she chronicled frustrating dates with comedians, drummers, actors, and playwrights, some of whom wrote in to the newspaper to rebut her accounts, even using the monikers she gave them in the column. She got a lot of hate mail. She closed out the decade in 1999 with her first novel, Run, Catch, Kiss, which launched with a reading at the B&N on Astor Place and party at Joe’s Pub, which had recently opened. Those were the days! She still had her finger on the pulse a decade later, with her controversial novel, Prospect Park West, which skewered the Brooklyn neighborhood for all of its precious eccentricities. She even got the Park Slope Food Coop (where she is still a member) to sell copies of the book. “I’m currently working on a narrative nonfiction project for FSG about feminists in the 19th century, a group of women who lived when you couldn’t send information about contraception through …

TueNight 10: Sara Berliner

In no way a career minimalist, Sara Berliner has been a puppeteer, documentary filmmaker, ethnographer, festival producer, children’s book writer, content curator, digital strategist, and always an activist. This spring she launched Vote Like a Motherto make parenthood and empathy a lens for political engagement. With t-shirts and totes inspired by a sign she made for the March for Our Lives, Vote Like a Mother funnels time/money/voices to essential nonprofits doing the hard daily work on social justice crises of all kinds. “When I graduated college with a degree in Folklore & Mythology (yup, that’s a thing) I knew I wanted to tell stories and help other people tell theirs. Making and expressing meaning was important to me. I figured ‘my thing’ would emerge, but it turns out I’m not directed like a person who always knew they’d be a doctor. This year, I felt called to ramp up my social activism. Vote Like a Mother was the lightning striking.” Here’s her TueNight 10: 1. On the nightstand: Muji eye mask. Sunday Morning lip balm from Love + Sage. …