Sunday Prayers With Babe Walker

So, as all of my little psychos have probably already put together, I’ve been in NYC for a little while prepping for my book to come out this week. Ohhh myyyy Goooddddddd I’M SO NERVOUS. Just kidding who cares. But me being in NY means me drinking more, socializing more, avoiding Lohan more, and I HATE to admit this, but eating more.

So, last night I was really in no mood to do a damn thing but at around 7pm I got a text from a dear friend who does somethign with The Tribeca Film Festival, inviting me to the premier of Björk: Biophilia Live. I don’t really halt naps for anyone, but I knew Björk would be there and I still needed to apologize to her for accidentally tripping her assistant at a party in Paris three years ago. It was bad, I think he may have broken his nose.

I threw on the Rick-Owensiest Prada outfit I had in my suitcase, and Uber’d it over to the theater just in time for the movie to start. And thank God. This movie changed my relationship to the earth and to myself, at least for the next few days. It reminded me that Björk is the only artist worth shit these days besides me, and re-ignited my passion for slow-motion footage of mushrooms growing. And I wasn’t even stoned, I swear. Such a spiritual journey. See this movie.

The after-party was hectic, I never got to apologize to Björk but she didn’t seem to remember our past altercations because she had no issue filling and refilling my glass of champagne. She is a mother figure for all who cross her path. Also, unfortunately I was reminded last night why I don’t particularly love running into Sean Lennon anymore.

Maybe I should move back to NY full time.

Bless everyone. But mostly bless you, Björk.

LOVE YOU. MEAN IT.
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