KGB is a recurring venue in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 39 times across 39 issues between June 06, 2024 and February 15, 2026. The archive places it in contexts such as "hosting a reading in the Main Bar at KGB"; "Thursday, July 18 at KGB - Caitlin Dee is hosting"; "Thursday, July 18 at KGB". It most often appears alongside New York, Confessions, Chloe Pingeon.
- Article page
- KGB
- Mention count
- 39
- Issue count
- 39
- First seen
- June 06, 2024
- Last seen
- February 15, 2026
- Instagram handle
- @kgbbarredroom
Outbound links
- https://kgbbar.com/
- https://redroomnyc.com/
- https://www.instagram.com/kgbbarredroom/
- https://www.instagram.com/kgbbarredroom/?hl=en
- https://www.instagram.com/kgblitjournal/
- https://www.instagram.com/kgbmondaynight/
- https://www.instagram.com/me_betseybrown/?hl=en
- https://www.instagram.com/p/DDe4YAZxs0a/
Issue trail
- COLLECTED AGENDA #3
- COLLECTED AGENDA #4
- COLLECTED AGENDA #5
- COLLECTED AGENDA #6
- COLLECTED AGENDA #7
- COLLECTED AGENDA #8
- Statues Of Critics.
- I wish I had more to say about fashion week.
- Ways to be sincere.
- Mimetic Theories of Doing Nothing
- Indulging in the Eschaton
- Playing With Glass
- Counterculture in America
- Florida, Massachusetts
- kind of a dud socially
- Christmas Stories
- January continues
- Burn my diaries
- End of the Cold Front
- Dream Logic
- February Dining.
- 52 Notifications From Hell
- How to Redeem Yourself
- Live Diary.
- Santa Teresa
- The Strangest Hotel in New York
- Big long list of activities
- mutually assured destruction
- Panopticon-ing Everyone
- Total Nightmare Policy
- generative and godly secrets
- Things I do like here
- Do you find everything interesting? Have you ever been bored? Was your last emotion in 2015?
- Early August
- Arrowhead expert
- Aura-Abysmal
- Fever Dreams
- Hotel Lobby Gossip
- Yellow-all-around
Related pages
Source context
...gs earlier *official* Feed Me party, but apparently those tickets sold out within sixteen minutes. Tuesday, June 18 from 7-9pm - London based Soho Reading Series will be hosting a reading in the Main Bar at KGB , featuring Anika Jade Levy, Madeline Cash, Krithika Varagur, Em Brill, Zans Brady Krohn, and Jesse Godine. Hosted by Tom Willis. Thursday, June 20 - The Miami Native la...
...ht - Cracks in Pomo launches the zine vol ii with a party at The Rose . Discourse is banned - “only of dancing, drinking, and smoking”. Free Hestia cigs and Masa chips . Thursday, July 18 at KGB - Caitlin Dee is hosting a Meditations for Party Girls reading, featuring Caitlin Dee , Sophia June , Jomé Rain, Nicky Josephine , Emily Danielle , Toni Kochensparger , and a magic ritual by Sar...
...ht - Cracks in Pomo launches the zine vol ii with a party at The Rose . Discourse is banned - “only of dancing, drinking, and smoking”. Free Hestia cigs and Masa chips . Thursday, July 18 at KGB - Caitlin Dee is hosting a Meditations for Party Girls reading, featuring Caitlin Dee , Sophia June , Jomé Rain, Nicky Josephine , Emily Danielle , Toni Kochensparger ,...
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
From 7pm at KGB — Meg Spectre returns with The Meg Spectre Spectacular - “a musical comedy extravaganza done in earnest”. Featuring Deborah Offner, Pia Marchetti, Agnes Enkh, and Calla Selicious
Inline links: KGB, Meg Spectre, The Meg Spectre Spectacular, Deborah Offner, Pia Marchetti, Agnes Enkh, Calla Selicious
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
Before I go away for Thanksgiving, I go to dinner at Decibel with Madelyn. We go to Pardon My French for a martini. We go to KGB. I go to the Lower East Side, I go to a going away party, I go to the bodega, I go home. At a party in the Lower East Side, a girl is talking about censorship, the age of censorship, how liberated she feels by the passing of This Terrible Era. "So what do you want to say?" Her friend is asking. "What?" the girl says. "What were you waiting to be free to say?" The girl rolls her eyes. "It's the principle" "Yes," her friend is saying. "The principle is important, but you can be free to do whatever you want and still be entirely uninteresting." At a party in the Lower East Side, people are talking about The Internet. "Everything you say is regurgitated from The Internet," the girl is telling her friend. Before I leave New York for only a few days, I go to Franz Kafka at The Morgan Library. It's not a very nice exhibition. They've put pop up walls and bright colors and crowded superfluous exhibition text all over the whole place. I write a review, but then I think it's kind of snarky. It's ok to be mean, but it's not ok to be cheap. "Why are you afraid of being mean," someone asked me a few weeks ago. "Because I don't want to say things that hurt people close to me," I said in response. What I should have said is - because what if I'm mean for nothing? What if I'm mean and I'm wrong and it's cheap. I get a martini at Moynihan Station. David cuts the Amtrak line. “What are they going to do?” he says. This infuriates a woman near us. Afterwards, I think I see this woman everywhere. She's sitting next to me at The Tunnel Cafe. I book a dermatology appointment for when I'm back in New York City. Select any provider, I say. I receive my confirmation email shortly after and I swear to god - the doctor they assigned me is the woman from the train. I cancel the appointment quickly. If this is fate, then it stems from nothing good. God‘s hand has nothing to do with it. Someone is simply playing tricks. the Amtrak Some things that happen in Massachusetts are: I behave very badly. I can't find my keys. It's raining. I can't go outside. I'm in an airbnb where I have never been before and It's so cold and these walls are gray, nothing like home, a lot like the kind of walls that one could imagine closing in. I start shaking by the window and I think about how I could probably be someone who does something like punch a hole through the glass. I wouldn't do this, but it's strange to feel capable of it. I think about how I should probably just go outside. It's objectively strange to spiral. I never crash out. I don't know why gray wall to wall carpeting and people talking too loudly and vicinity to an unknown suburban street freaks me out so much. I wish I could scream at the sky and the rain would stop just like that. I calm down. I don't actually wish I could control the weather. That would be no kind of a life. I go to a hotel I can't afford and I try to break into their gym to use the treadmill. I can't get into the gym, but no one stops me in the lobby. I drink their lemon water. I drink almost the whole pitcher. I call my dad and I say can you please come pick me up now. In a different house, a house that is familiar, a house that I have always known - I sit by the fire, I sit by big glass windows, I watch Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008), I drive to the snow. "I'm driving to Florida to drive to the snow," I say. Welcome to Florida, Massachusetts the sign on turnpike says. It's a white sign flanked by plaster palm trees. A little snowman with yellow hands and feet throws his hands in the air. Troop 76 Pack 76, the sign says. It's a blizzard up the turnpike. It's snowing in thick wet sheets. It's the type of snow that's fast and heavy, almost like rain but it's opaque and it's sticking. Everyone gets out of the car but me. I'm too cold, I say. My sister is throwing snowballs. I get out of the car too. We drive down the mountain. My dad plays Alice's Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie. We play all twenty-five minutes of it and then we play it again. We pick up David. Do you want to hear Alice's Restaurant?, I ask him. Alice’s Restaurant, Album Cover Things are nice, from here. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Tuesday, December 3 From 5:30 - 7:30pm at Il Bisonte — Yolo Journal celebrates the new Fall/Winter issue. I love few things more than a beautiful travel journal (something that has become few and far between). Yolo Journal, however, fits this bill to exaction. Wine provided by Franciacorta. RSVP to ilbisonte@novellapagherapr.com
Inline links: Decibel, Pardon My French, KGB, Franz Kafka at The Morgan Library, The Tunnel Cafe, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Ir9V!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbd04dfd6-f357-422e-a521-9d17731dfe1b_4032x3024.jpeg, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Alice's Restaurant, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!WxiA!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe78658ae-4123-4810-ad03-f0e13a55cd31_316x316.jpeg, Il Bisonte, Yolo Journal, Franciacorta
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
Wednesday, February 5 Deep familiarity is many different things at many different moments, I am told today. I kind of disagree. I think there is a core of things. Actually, I really disagree. I really think that there is a core of things. New album by Desire today. New dress on my doorstep. I wake up in an apartment that is briefly all mine. Where were you a year ago today, my friends were asking at dinner yesterday. It's a reasonably interesting thing to consider. I like it best when a year ago feels very distant. Me - I was at KGB Bar. A stranger took the photo. I look very morose. In my memory I was very nervous, and also, I was very pleased. On a walk, trying to write, trying to pour out the sludge, seeking clarity - "I do not feel like writing a whole fucking retrospective every time I try to journal," I write. I am sorry all my details seem crude today. Rules for solitude are - pace in circles, pace on the treadmill, do not be combative in conversation with strangers, do not eavesdrop, sometimes you will not like what you hear. They are talking about murder suicide at pilates, the girl at pilates owned an animal shelter and her star employee murder suicided himself and his girlfriend. You know that cute blonde blogger, she is saying. She was the girlfriend. The guy seemed nice. You never know. Rules for solitude are do not listen to these things, stop listening to these things, you’re going to freak out if you keep on listening to these things. Later, I'm only here to pick up a phone charger, but there's a whole wall of people reading poems about bitter cynicism in this conference room. I apologize for my bitter cynicism, the woman reading is saying, and I hate being in these buildings after dark, I hate the corporate flair to these things. Powerade Zero on the desks. I would like to go lurk in a Chinatown basement. I would like to write an Alt Lit Novel. I would like to be very, very rude. "Would you like to read a list of people who have been censored," a woman at this strange event asks me. "Have you seen a phone charger?" I ask the women. "Now is not the time to be nihilistic," Madelyn’s friend told her yesterday, and I’m not nihilistic, and I'm sorry, and I'm really sorry, and I really really really need to leave now. Thursday, February 6 Ice and snow over my glass house this morning. I heard the sharp rain in the night. I am not surprised it froze over. I am enjoying waking up with - nowhere to go, no one to see. I wouldn't enjoy it for long, but it’s not too bad for now. Walking through this empty apartment and the only sound is me, and then ice falling off the roof overhead. It’s not a big deal, really, and I'm acting a little delusional and insane about the weight of it all, but it's just that I have never done this before - woken up in a building with no one to greet me. And I have tucked my phone far away so that the solitude can feel more complete. And I have cleaned the apartment, top to bottom. I've wrapped an old scarf all around my face and then I've gone for a walk - no matter that the streets are frozen. I do like the ice. I'm sorry. I do. I hope it lasts. The night is swirling and nice. I forgot to take note. Friday, February 7 My parents are here, and I am glowing with the happiness of it. Start the day slowly. I’ve become a bit reckless. I’ll do the dishes. I’ll take out the trash. Intrinsically sloppy, and I wish I wasn’t. When left to my own devices, a descent into chaos is not entirely inevitable. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Monday, February 10 From 7pm - 9pm at Virginia’s — Date Time thinks it’s not too late to find a valentine. The three girls behind a new Feed Me featured speed dating endeavor present their second event, featuring two 45 min rounds of mingling. - “Everyone meets everyone, so get ready to meet a lover, a friend, or perhaps an enemy.” $5 ticket required for entry (proceeds to Direct Relief in LA), and 1 drink minimum to date.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
WHAT I DID Monday, May 12 At the Holiday Inn, there are Yakisoda noodles and banana cream pie snack pack jellos and krabby patties gummy candies and lances cream cheese and onion dip crackers. All the most disgusting snacks imaginable, and kind of perverted, too. I’m so particular and annoying with my sleeping issues that I always find myself at depressing hotels, even when there is a wonderful home down the road where I am welcome. I need a Big Bed and Isolation. I need Temperature Control. As a child, I liked things such as camping in birch forests and cramped little stone cottages in some village where my parents would find someone on the Internet to swap houses with. Unfortunately, I grew up into someone with severe and undiagnosable sleep disorders, and a taste for adventure that is rooted more in hedonism and less in fresh air. I feel really full and sleepy heading back to New York. Well, things are better than they were. Total nightmare policy. Total, blow up your life brother, policy. I was so addicted to writing in my google docs journal this weekend and now I have a lot of annoying slop to show for it. I call my dad in the sun outside the Starbucks in a Strip Mall. Stop thinking about things in such eternal terms, they tell me. You wouldn’t get in a car crash and say When Can I Go 100 Again, they remind me. Fiction, again - they are talking about somebody else. The idea of compromise no longer makes your blood boil. It’s an unsavory trait that it ever did in the first place. "The other alternative is that I just become a nightmare and you become perfect," I told him. "That is certainly an alternative," he told me. It is 11:30pm, and I am thinking about getting a job. I am thinking about the Current Body Red Light Mask and the Ayede heels from ssense.com. "What if I hadn’t simply crashed out," he said. "There would have been pros and cons to that," I said. There is a fire alarm and mauve curtains and two weird arched doorways because we booked a suite and so the architecture suggests some simulacra of something vaguely Roman. Marble. Plaster cut to look like marble. I go to buy water and they have turned off the creepy lights at the creepy pool. Tuesday, May 13 I was feeling really terrified, if I’m being honest about it. I was sitting on the sidewalk picking at my nails and drinking hot coffee in the hot sun, eight splenda, curdled almond milk. I was voicing concerns in a high pitched voice and I was losing track of the distinguishment between ideas imagined and conversations regurgitated. God forbid I have an original thought of my own - that part wasn't even on the table. It isn’t so dark and depressing anymore. Walk in the rain and everything is so green here. I’ll be back in the city tonight and there are better omens in the astrology these days around things like planes, the return, glass apartments in the sky. He leaves my keys on the bedside table at the hotel, and he’s still asleep when I pack up my things and leave to eat black coffee, turkey deli meat, garlic aioli, marcona almonds. We drive to his parent’s house and he gives me drumstick vanilla ice cream. Working on this laptop, surrounded by all this green. You know that every time you hit this vape it coats your lungs in sweet thick paste, I am telling him, as I hit his vape. The last time I wrote about hitting a vape I received an infuriating pseudo intellectual email about the verbiage "hit" as suggesting a sado-masochistic impulse in our digital age. "I wonder if soon, you'll be saying you 'Beat' or 'Pummeled' your vape?" the idiot email writer wrote. The email made me so mad. You're so stupid, I wanted to write back. We go for a walk in the bright green forest. There is a sweetness here. A coming-back-into-control that makes the out-of-control-ness feel so distant. Escape from Evil and two days later you mistake reprieve for salvation. Unless, you are not mistaken. It really could be that simple. What was it they were saying on The Internet? Break The Pattern Today Or The Loop Will Repeat Tomorrow. What was it I've been saying online? Edit Artificial Intelligence robot voice over text to speech words - "Taking My Party Boy Boyfriend On A Walking Tour Of The Cotswolds." I clarify that I've been defending his honor. We're crushing up the plastic water cups, and the hill is steep up the road. I clarify that there are people of extremes. It was very bad, but now it is very good, I am texting my mother. Honestly, I'm so sick of clarifying anything at all. You're a little more sober with it. You're a little more gentle about it. It transformed in two days. Imagine two weeks. Imagine a year. Imagine rushing even one second. I can control my consciousness. Though, it isn't my consciousness, really, that I've been concerned about. I'm glad we share a frame of mind. This plane is basically empty. Wednesday, May 14 We went to KGB late last night. Thursday, May 15 The woman who does yoga on her fire escape is out there with a cigarette, today. I’m not in a bad mood today. The apartment is a mess and I am concerned about my past. Things become steady, and then even bright. Friday, May 16 Well, I didn't write because I have been busy in real life. I've been imagining an identity rooted in delusions in the secret diary that stays offline. It is not so delusional. I am feeling so sincere. Rebecca is here. My sister is here. We went to KGB Bar and Fanelli Cafe and Funny Bar where we met a Gagosian guy turned AI guy, which I guess has kind of been my career arch too though I am not so pleased about that direction. We went to the party at Bowery where the waiter from Fanelli Cafe was the DJ and I had two vodka sodas then soda water with lime which might be all I do soon, though I keep on having all these cyclical conversations with myself about these things - consumption and gluttony - and there is little that more dull, so I will not bring it up again. I went to the sleep specialist and she giggled when I said I don't scream in my sleep if I am in the company of strangers. That's different but great, she said. Do I control my subconscious, I said. Stupid idiot, she said. I did actually go to all these parties, and I did call him from the bathroom. He'll be back in New York soon, making film and code and learning banjo. It's way better than the alternative, and I do feel very proud this week which is something I have not been able to say in a good long while. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Wednesday, May 21 From 7pm - 8:30pm at The Flea Theater (20 Thomas St) — I’ll be seeing Revolution: The Play. Sophia Englesberg is associate producer, and everything she touches is wonderful. Written and produced by Brett Neveu, directed by Rebecca Harris. The theater is next to The Odeon, so you can get my favorite martini before or after the show. - “Who celebrates their 26th birthday in the alley outside of her hairdressing place o’ work? Revolution interrogates and celebrates the very nature of creating community and building friendships in our ever-evolving, ever disconnecting world.”
From 7pm at KGB Bar — Cracks in Pomo hosts a launch party for the release of the zine vol. Iii. I’ll be reading, along with Valerie Stivers, Matthew Gasda, and Jonah Howell. Join for drinks, chats, and discounted zines for sale . RSVP here. If you can’t come, order a copy of the zine here
From 7pm at KGB Bar (Red Room) — Meg Spectre presents The Meg Spectre Spectacular - a musical-comedy show featuring Ivy Wolk, Amelia Ritthaler, Megan Bitchell, and Willie Zabar. You can read about Meg being brilliant and fun here. It’s a huge night at KGB. I’ll certainly be there! Will you?
From 7:30pm at KGB Bar —- Me And My Victim screening, Q&A, and party - “Blurring the line between fiction and nonfiction, Me and My Victim is about co-directors and subjects, Maurane and Billy Pedlow, who are not quite friends and not quite lovers and the true, messy, and kind-of-fucked-up story about how they met.” After Party to follow the screening at Paul's Baby Grand. Hosted by Cassidy Grady.
Inline links: Me And My Victim
From 7pm at KGB Bar — Will Higgins hosts Bit by Bit - a comedy show ft Grace O’Malley, Daniela Mora, Emily Wilson, and Noel B.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
From 7pm at KGB — It’s rumored to be a great Confessions this week.
Inline links: KGB, Confessions
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.
No direct inline source block was recovered for this mention.