CHRISTEENE, the self-described "drag terrorist" from Austin, Texas, is famous for her provocative live shows and shame-free, outsider attitude. Fresh off the release of her Matt Lambert-directed "Butt Muscle" music video, the queer performer wreaked havoc on Joe's Pub in NYC this summer, and described the outlandish experience in her own words--if you can call them that. Read and listen, below, and check out photos from CHRISTEENE's underground spectacle, here.
i like joe's pub cuz it got egg crates on da walls an i like egg crates cuz dey hold eggz an eggz cum frum chikkenz an i fukkin luv chikkens moore then bourbon. joes pub got back hallways wit tape on da floor dat tells u where ta walk like iz uh red carpet but without da carpet an therr are amayzin peeple runnin back n forth an smilin at u in da dark or lookin at u with uh shitty grin like u shouldnt be dat close to peeples food an da big lobby u walk in iz tall an fancy like u gunna see uh special play but u really gunna see mee an my boyz tear ourselves up in front of you an poke n grab n stroke our holes while u sick enough to put nice food in ur mouth while u watch which i really like too.
diz wuz our second time to be let into joes pub. it iz always really special. it iz a bucket list kinda place dat make u know dat sumthin iz goin right ferr you if u dream hard an ride ur ponies an listen to da fire in ur belly. dey put me an my boyz T Gravel an Dawg Elf in da big dressin room downstairs diz time which iz next to da hawt stanky lockers of da fine folks who wurk there. it made mee feel like uh fancy christmas tree all lit up. wee dont get treated like dat many times on da road...mee an my boyz. sumtimes wee in uh dark corner of uh shit smellin basement in uh club or bar wit barely any lites an sum rotten ol curtain. daz funny sumtimes but not every fukkin time u know?
what da fukk new york i dont know butt u know how too brush an ol cat clean an put it on parade. Oooo i wuz so fukkin excited too bee back at dat pub wit my boyz. lil tiny fukkin stage dat dont let u go nowhere but up. funny lil seats riyeet at da tip of da stage all around it like uh lil sushi bar ferr people who dont mind 7 day old fish.
Photography: Eli Schmidt
we jump high an we jump hard an wee felt dat kick back frum dat fine azz crowd uh peeple fillin every fukkin seat out derr in da dark. sum folks wee knew. sum folks out on dat furst wurst time wit us. sum family out derr wee aint seen in so long. sum oprah angels out derr who have helped us so much on our way to who da fukk knows wherr. sum enemies out derr im sure cummin an whatchin at sumthin they wanna understand so bad but gotta knock it down instead like uh scared closet faggot politician in uh bathroom stall who cant wait to git back to wurk an take our fukkin rights away. u never know what da fukk u gunna git in uh new york room at joes pub but u sure as fukk feel it whatevers out derr an iz gooood.
lady cums an says we gotta few minutes til da shit hits da stage. one uh my boyz on da floor stretchin legs like uh silly pretzel. other boyz in da mirror puttin makeup on an fartin up a rotten egg. mee im done takin a shit an im pourin dat sweet thick brown bourbon down my gullet so da show can flow thru mee an i can flow thru u. my favorite time. dat quick quiet of da storm. juz mee an my boyz knowin dat its about to git heavy. another pour of dat sweet bourbon. our best suits on an fastened an tied tight to our banged an bruised bodies. wee look at each other wit deep eyes. wee kiss each other on da mouth sweet wit real luv. we walk into da dark room an our eyes are blinded by uh bright blue light. we are aflame.