It’s Giving — a new column dedicated to keeping you inspired and your senses well fed. This week we’re asking the big question – WTF?!
To be honest, this past weekend was a very special weekend, the kind that will linger. For weeks, at least. Sometimes NYC delivers, with back-to-back moments that pull together the kind of art education one can only pretend happens in culture here often. We’re lucky sometimes, I guess. Stomping around in high heels and pretty dresses with new and old friends, I spent the weekend zipping uptown, downtown, taking the subway when I was feeling ambitious, and taxis when it got too cold or too late. Could barely catch my breath and ended up with many WTF moments. The good kind mostly, and the bad kind sometimes. So here’s the round up.
Friday 11/14/2025 I was invited to see Cindy Lee at Brooklyn Paramount. A dear friend recently put me onto Cindy Lee’s 2024 album Diamond Jubilee, a project that lives exclusively on Realistik Studios’ website and YouTube (ad-free!). I was instantly hooked, and very impressed that an artist who fully rejected traditional streaming platforms could still generate such widespread critical acclaim. Please listen and F the system for real. Cindy Lee is the avant-garde and confrontational pop project of Patrick Flagel, the former frontman of Women.
Brooklyn Paramount, an iconic 1928 music venue with a capacity of 2700 was restored and reopened last year thanks to Arcadis and Live Nation. A big win for them. Good job guys! It was my first time there since the restoration and it was the second night of Cindy Lee’s run at the paramount.
Cindy Lee suddenly appeared on stage, smacking gum aggressively, with a big beehive, and a white puffer coat that glowed electric blue under the pretty lights. It was the most casual yet intimidating walk on moment I’ve seen on a stage that big. She quickly took off her coat to reveal a gorgeous gold sequined dress, shining brightly and cascading prisms of colors onto the crowd. Cindy was a vision, and her ways of getting our attention was that of someone who really understands show business. We were all already so impressed and locked in.
Cindy’s set was breathtaking. Pure Cinema. She created an atmosphere of sound, weaving dreamy backing tracks with songs that cut deep into the harsh lessons of love and life, and then completely ripped our hearts out with her gripping guitar riffs and solos. We were all lost in the moment. Transfixed. It was absolutely stunning. All I got were shitty videos, I even went live on our Instagram for a few seconds. (Side note – I’m convinced we’re shadowbanned, can someone help please thanks.) Cindy’s confidence on stage and fearless distribution of her music was a WTF moment that left me feeling inspired and rocked a bit. You could really not give a f*ck and still win huh.
Saturday 11/15/2025 I woke up hungover, from too much wine at late night dinner. I spent the day in a haze. A lazy day with a wild night ahead. After Takahachi sushi and yet another East Village run in with Harrison, my friend and I head to The Met to see SQÜRL play in front of 4 silent Man Ray films, a celebration of their restoration. One of the films was described as a cinepoem, which got me thinking (more on that soon).
I first discovered SQÜRL years ago at a Sacred Bones showcase, and their music featured in Only Lovers Left Alive – one of my all-time favorite films – paired perfectly with the film’s portrayal of true love, complicated musicians, and otherworldly ways to navigate the human condition. We quickly got to our seats in the Gracey Rainey Rogers Auditorium, ready for our blessing.
When Jim Jarmusch and Carter Logan walked on stage the room felt silent. The duo proceeded with building psychedelic dreamscapes under blue light that played in conjunction with “Man Ray: When Objects Dream.” It was overwhelming at times, and disorienting, peaceful, humbling. It came and went like all good things and we left changed. We were different. That night I had a dream of paintings – they were so vivid and I never dream of visual art that doesn’t already exist. Just songs and lingering thoughts. Felt like it unlocked something, like a hidden layer of subconscious creativity. I even drew them out the next morning with colored pencils as to not forget them. WTF. And cool as hell.
Sunday 11/16/2025 I spent most of the day thinking about the paintings from my sleep. Another lazy day. The dream paintings were mostly orange and purple, and the two I remembered specifically featured a glowing window. I googled the symbolism of windows in dreams and learned it represents “hope, truth, insight” or “vulnerability, exposure.” Pretty sure I feel all those feelings, every day. I’m not one to talk about dreams, I find it embarrassing honestly but I was struck by them.
Anyway, later in the eve I head to Beacon’s Theater for the New York Comedy Festival featuring Louie CK. I was invited by a friend and I was curious okay. Louis CK live at Beacon’s Theater, presented by New York Comedy Festival, and supported by everyone who made it a sold out show – made it feel not criminal. WTF. Controversial yes, but I believe in therapy and second chances and so do big important institutions, apparently. Crazy how some people can rise from the ashes and others never had a chance to begin with. Am I a bad person for being here. Perhaps a subversive event to mention in this column, but I’m being honest about my escapades so hear me out and curse me out later.
The depraved and demented humor of Louie CK made me laugh out loud, keep quiet, and sent me on a journey of deep introspection. There’s something incredibly honest about his hot takes and something very gentle about his delivery. A strange man and a true talent. And yeah, there were endless WTF moments. I ran into the older brother and fellow millennial of a former roommate, and the only other sinner I knew besides my friend, from life outside the theater. Separating the art from the artist is challenging. Confirmed. The Internet said he’s not “cancelled in a permanent sense.” The night ended at the diner around the corner. I thought about him, his shame, his perceived comeback, and the effect that his sexual misconduct and bad behavior had on the people he hurt, his family, and hoped they were all okay – today. “I no longer judge, I grew up” I thought to myself while indulging in French onion soup and good company. And “I’m sorry I’m this way.”
Article by Nasa Hadizadeh. Find me on instagram @nasa_nasa_nasa__ and subscribe to my Substack.