Zoe Nightingale

Cocaine and Ketamine. At first its a warm blanket that covers your insecurities and warms your empty soul with the confidence you've craved you're entire life but somehow never found.... Then slowly, it eats away at your flesh like white hot maggots destroying everything you've ever known and held dear to your heart. NYC is drenched with drugs. Truly there is no where to run and hide, even at the fanciest parties you can hear the faint sniff of a endless array of models and artists drowning their brains in fresh powder. The things i've seen people use to shovel misc. white powder into their nostrils you cannot imagine. People can be so inventive! Necklace charms, rings, straws, little metal (this is pro) shovels/spoons, keys of every shape, ripped up folded pieces of paper, backs of hands, thumb nails, pen caps...the list goes on and on....If only we as a collective group of 1 percent of rich educated humans could dedicate the same amount of time we spent buying and huffing drugs to quell our restless souls w

I recently found myself at a upstate "play" party and boy did I learn lot. I still don't get orgies, or "cuddle puddles " (which is a sugarcoated word that describes a place that should be super comfy, and full of teddy ruxbins but instead but reeks of old dick soup and sadness. I literally cannot get away from this fucking fad (HA!I pun) I bet it was fun in the 70s when people had real drugs being carried in briefcases by bad ass Pan AM stewardess and good music and no cellphones but these days where the cocaine smells like nail polish remover (i only smelled i did not inhale) and everyone has a secret stash of valtrex in their bathroom cabinet what's the fucking point. A couple of my main issues: 1. I Hate sharing 2. think that watching other people have sex is absolutely gnarly. No one has a pink porn hairless asshole. The dicks are weird and misshapen, like carrots grown in Chernobyl, and I can't imagine the the V's of swinger chicks could resemble anything other than a Katz's Pastrami sandwich (RIP) the

This is one of the hardest podcast's i've ever made public. But the truth is that I have really gone through a transformative process recently. Someone took a flame thrower to my body and reduced me a bunch of glittery ashes and it's taken me just a second to million dollar man myself back into existence. So, in the face of me having everything, I was afraid. Deep cold fear invaded my body and had to work desperately hard to dethaw my bones so I could go forth and continue to create the life I have been manifesting for a decade. It’s so easy in the instagram era to want to hide behind filters, To smooth over lifes wrinkles, to cover up your insecurities. #killingit it's all total bullshit. I never knew what the fear of failure would feel like because I was never concerned with success. So for a short while anytime I would stand up it would feel like my bones were made of bisquick batter and I would crumble back into my bed. So where does that leave me. It's taken months of talking to my mother, of holding my

I met an amazing man, (if memory serves me correctly) in 2008. I was a two dimensional professional partier who spent my youth traveling the world and chasing the wonderful white rabbit that is the world of electronic music scene. The literal only good thing that came out of this amorphous murky period of my life was some amazing friends and memories. Today I bring you the one and only Damien Lazarus a pillar of the underground music scene. Truly one of the most original, charismatic way finders i've ever met. Once again please excuse the sound quality in this episode. I had just come back from a three day upstate party interviewing a "play" community (swingers) and I was sleepy from trying not to slip and fall into a fuck pile of humans and end up pregnant with the antichrist. I gotta tell you, these play people may be onto something. They are so freaking happy. Either way I was beyond sleepy. So I stuck the microphone under him and then lay back and drank rose..which obviously does not make for my best work

I recently went to a dead concert in NYC specifically to meet old school dead heads with endless stories of life following the dead but instead I kept meeting homeless kids. This ones name was Solar, and he's 16 years old. He was orphaned at 8 and abandoned to fend for himself against the world. Because he was born on a "hippie bus" still unclear what that is, he has no documentation or records so he's literally invisible to the system. He has nothing. Literally except the giant pin stripe suit on his back that was ripped and tattered but he was still so beautiful. Huge crystal clear blue eyes, glowing skin, with ragged and cracked white teeth underneath a huge smile. His hands were beat up and cut up and covered in a thick black tar like paste that seemed like it could never wash off. Pretty sure he had track marks on his arm but he kept trying to convince me they were ant bites. He was beautiful inside and out. He's eyes broke my heart but his spirit was unwavering. He was happy and grateful and ready for h

I met a hilarious, gregarious young African American mother of 2 little gorgeous babies named Reckless, whose main goal in life was to not die because she was black and be able to raise her children without fear. Growing up the color of printer paper in Washington DC, a city that was 95 percent black I have always been acutely aware the differences that my skin afforded me most obviously being my total lack of fear surrounding the Police. I have always, without question, talked back to cops. I've been arrested for "assaulting" a police officer...twice. I recently went to go see a play about the life of Dick Gregory a Brilliant comic who paved the way for Richard Pryor and was instrumental player in the Civil Rights movement. This play reduced me to a puddle of ashes and tears for it made you turn around and stare at the Sodom and Gomorrah like world that was the African American experience in America. His bravery was limitless. He would go from one red neck racist comedy club in the south to the next, where t

I love Hare Krishnas. They're like little orange Pokemon and I want to catch them all. Of all the Cool Aids religious zealots have tried to serve me, it's the one I always feel like I could drink. As I continue my quest to figure out what I think about God I keep bumping up against these guys, mostly because they're all over NYC and so bloody loud with their cow bells and shouting. So here we have Zoe Vs. Hare Krishna's round two. In the end, I love their commitment to peace, veganism and kindness, but they also do come off as used car salesman in fanta colored pashminas after a while trying to shove their totally one sided views about how to live your life. Either way, they always leave me reflective about would I be happier if I had someone like Krishna on my side.

As always i've been wondering around NYC asking strangers how they feel about sex, monogamy, social media and this ever present sense of "I". I found this gorgeous man, full of charisma and charm willing to talk to me about how he feels. Hope you're enjoying the sun everyone.

This Memorial Day weekend I was an exceptional place called Members Only Camp Out, a full on music dancing orgy with the most professional partiers Brooklyn has to offer. Sometimes I feel like these people were put into those two test tube from the Movie the "FLY" and they were in one tube and records, sunglasses ketamine, prayer beads, tattoos, and the words "Tulum, Burning Man and Ayahuasca" in the other and then through SCIENCE they were genetically fused into one creature with superhero powers to stay up for days on end dancing and chatting and laughing and having a wonderfully positive attitude toward life, (and randomly loosing pieces of their nose) My kinda people. However it was a fucking blast. Held on a old kids camp grounds on a lake full of trees and frogs and stars and bon fires I was a happy camper. ANYWAY while I was there I met this amazing guy and when you looked at him all I could think of was the song..."one of these things is not like the other..." because he was just rough and hood as fuc

A couple months ago I called an Uberpool to take me to work....and when I opened up the door, who was sitting snug as a bug in a rug? A real life curly q Heimish! Now, even though I live with and see them almost every day, it's like we are living in two separate universes. They usually seem to look right through me, and refuse to smile, nod, wave, or make casual conversation at the post office, grocery store, the M train whenever our paths may cross... So I enlisted my dear friend Zev who actually was raised in an Orthodox Jewish community to help me understand better the claims this wonderfully nice man made to me that rainy day, namely, no one who leaves the cult of the Orthodox could be happy. I called him one day while he was driving up to Dream land, the promise land he's building for himself, a lakeside community he's creating with all his amazing friends, sitting next to his gorgeous blonde 24 year old european girlfriend who has a smile that could knock the keepah right off your head....to ask him for

I have known and loved Zev Eisenberg, half of Brooklyn's infamous Wolf and Lamb music duo for almost a decade. Zev is simply one of the coolest mother fuckers I have ever met. He has the best b.s detector of anyone I know, and is always the first to call me out whenever I do or say something stupid (which is often) I wanted to share his story because I think his journey is of IMMENSE value to anyone who is going through intense sickness or helping someone they love get well. The fact is that while modern medicine has afforded us incredible achievements in the battle against cancer and disease, it is not the only way that one can heal. If you or someone you love is going through this, I would highly recommend seeking out second opinions before you dive head first into the never ending abyss that is western way of dealing with illness. His story is also of great value to me, because today is the first day of my super hardcore very bad no good month long detox cleanse for I too have not been so well. Like any go

Warning - This episode probably won't be funny to anyone other than my sister but as it's almost my father's birhtday I thought I would honor him by letting him listen to just how rediculous he is. Our relationship has always been a battle. Even though after 30 years I KNOW that trying to win an argument is akin to screaming at the wind for blowing, I can't help myself. When I was little and I would tell him something hurt, no matter what the level of severity from head ache to broken wrist he would always retort the same thing, "would you like me to take a hammer to your big toe, then X will hurt less..." We are the literal embodiment of my second favorite Dr. Suess Story, about the North Going Zax and the South going Zax from the prairie of prax who argue about nothing forever while the world forgets them. So over Passover I a wonderful time with my family and as he was helping me do some errands we got into this inane disagreement about his driving. Let me preface this by saying that I use the word "drivin

Japan has left me full of wonder from the past and equally obsessively concerned with the present and future. I feel like i'm trapped inside a Baraka video. Everywhere I go streams and droves of ant like humans, half of them covered in scary medical face masks stream over and around me like i'm a stick in the way of their march through the forrest, the sea of faces parts and I feel like i'm somehow stationary in this human/technological charybdis where a zillion crazy asian sounds and mega giant screens fill my head with subliminal advertisements and then my throat gets itchy and all I can think is wouldn't it be nice to have a cold icy Coca Cola and then go to shopping. It's this bizarre molotov cocktail of having a people who are so delightfully homogenous to the point where NO ONE locks their bikes and there's NO trash cans because people take care of their own trash and strangers stop instantly to help you any time you look remotely lost or confused, a people who routinely wear Hannibal Lecter type face m

Michael Alig, the beautiful party promoter who took took over NYC's party scene in the 90's has been released from Prison for his 1996 murder of Angel Melendez. For some background, this is the same man whose life that the 2003 movie Party Monster (Staring Seth Green and McCauley Caulkin) was based off of. He was a brilliant Pied Piper who was able to create a social movement that swept over the nation calling small town rejects and societal misfits to join he's legion of worshippers called the "Club Kids." Reviled by some, worshiped by others, he's like the trump of 90's. . As someone who itimately knows the New York Party scene, let me tell you the kind of charisma and raw unique creative chutzpah this takes happens with only a very brilliant, visionary with a calculator brain. Every single person I know whose above 35 got their party flippers wet at Limelight, or Tunnel. HE wasn't a monster, he was God, for years. Then he fell, like Icarus, into the abyss not be be seen or heard for 17 years. Well he's bac

I've been around the proverbial block and I have never, ever heard of some of the crazy drug combinations Michael Alig and his friends used to do. I mean like bat shit insane. Here's just a mini tini example of the kind of crack heads they were. Makes my past look like the Sound of Music. So I think him for that.

Lets get some background on our upcoming interviewee, the one and only Michael Alig. Reviled by some, worshiped by others, he's like the trump of 90's. . He created a movement that swept over the nation like a virtual pied piper calling small town rejects and societal misfits to join he's legion of worshippers. As someone who itimately knows the New York Party scene, let me tell you the kind of charisma and raw unique creativity this takes is a once and a lifetime human. Every single person I know whose above 35 got their party flippers wet at Limelight, or Tunnel. HE was god. For years. And then he fell, like icarus, into the abyss not be be seen or heard for 17 years. He's back. Part 3 is up tomorrow.

So I will admit to you all that I have been struggling. I have created and destroyed about 4 different versions of my interactions with Michael Alig. I am struggling because this is a story that could be told a million ways, and I ultimately am left trapped by the enormity of it. I have been talking to Michael, pretty much every day, about his past, present and future for a month, and one of my main problems is that we have a similar kind of dark humor that ends up feeling really icky when the context of his crime is constantly hovering like his personal albatross. White, huge, it's wingspan covers my eyes and plugs my ears and I cannot see my way around it. So i cut, and i re insert and i sit and I stare at the window and I wonder about what forgiveness means as a society. According to our Judicial system he is a man absolved. He has done his time, he has been rehabilitated and the rest of us should view him as such. But he is a man marked, forever by his past and I've had a hard time climbing out from under

Ok so I voluntarily jumped off a cliff into the never-ending rabbit hole that is the Iraeli/Palestinian Conflict. Fun! Let me apologize ahead of time for the sound on this one, blame alcohol as always and not setting up microphones in a stationary way. So first up, the Israeli soldier I fell for when I was forced to go on birthright by my mother about 5 years ago. When he walked into the charter bus a bunch of chomosomally challenged Jewish Americans and I were sharing I left a actual puddle on the seat. You should have seen his giant gun and uniform! Unreal. For a girl who grew up with men that couldn't connect a V.C.R, this was really a novel sight. He was part of the Sheldags, a hyper elite squadron that was in charge of the most difficult secret sniper missions. He trained for years, was tortured and tested by his leaders to make sure he could have handled capture or torture from the other side. He was the toughest boy I had ever met. He was 21 at the time, but he wore the weight of the whole world on thi

Jeepers Creepers Kathy Jane is gonna hop aboard the angry train after this one. Sorry mom. For the millionth time. My B. All systems point to this is your fault somehow. So this is a quick mini episode to tide you over under my 2nd iteration of my live show this time on March 11th from 8/10 pm EST. It will be broadcast live from the Marcy Hotel North which is a legendary underground Brooklyn party ware house that houses the whole Wolf and Lamb (Crew Love) posse. I had some of my very best youth filled nights of debauchery and chaos in their squash court lined walls. This very special episode will focus on what happens when the party is over...How do you rebuild your life from the ground up after trauma, sickness or incarceration? First up Michael Alig - the original party monster, creator of "club kids" when Limelight wasn't a shopping mall. He has just been released from jail after 17 years in max security prison for brutally killing and dismembering his friend and roommate, Angel. Second - Zev Eisenberg, cr

A couple rainy days ago I called an Uberpool to take me to work, I opened up the door, and who was sitting snug as a bug in a rug? A real life curly q Heimish! Now, even though I live with and see them almost every day, it's almost like we are living in two separate universes. They usually seem to look right through me, and almost never smile, nod, wave, or make casual conversation at the post office, grocery store, the M train whenever our paths my cross. I once was sent to live with a Hasidic family when I was 12, it left a vicious mark on my memory. It was like stepping into a time portal into the literal past, no electronics, no books, no color, all business. They had 12 children, I slept in the room with the littlest one was was 3 who had hair to his shoulders and I kept confusing him for a girl which made me super unpopular with the rest of the house especially the Mother who basically took all my clothes the first day and threw them out replacing them with drab cement colored wool numbers that erased a