Yesterday I played a sold-out performance at Joe’s Pub, the birthplace of Hamilton and lots of other famous shows. The show, “Dan Fishback is Alive, Unwell, and Living in His Apartment,” is about isolation: the isolation of living in New York, of living in New York as a musician, living in New York as a musician with long covid, living with long covid in post-covid New York, living in America during its active participation in the Palestinian genocide, living in America under Trump. And being horny. It was a privilege and an honor to witness a show about such literally isolating subject matter find its laudatory audience. I feel fiercely proud of @dangerfishback and every single hyper talented member of the cast and crew. I also played a punk show yesterday night at Purgatory. My parents were 1/5 of the attendees at a show where I dubbed my genitalia “Little Italy.” Afterwards I had an omelette and whiskey and talked about vision and artistry with some besties. This experience was also a privilege and an honor and I’m proud of every musician and poet who shared a part of themself. I hope I’m never too cool to wear a nightgown and talk about my bowels in front of a single-digit crowd. I hope we never isolate ourselves from the unexpected catharsis that comes from the random live event. I hope we uplift and hold and listen to each other until we all sell out our dream venues. I’ll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours. Speaking of Timothée Chalamet @_irrevery_ and I dreamed up a lil hang at @tradesmanbk tonight. Let’s dress the turkey trim the tree shoot the shit capture the queen. All voices welcome. Bring a chess board. I’m gonna sing my new unbearably heartbreaking country song about a gambler and the song “867-5309/Jenny.” And maybe we’ll take a trip to Mulberry Street 😘🤌 Photo by my mom 📸