Zoo Needs A Good Hard...

'"Don't be a cocktease," you warn, grabbing me by the arm. I take your cock in my mouth, making sure to cheat the angle so that you can see the action. I'm sucking it in as far as I can, trying to make my forehead touch your six pack. I make it on the third attempt, and you let out a big sigh. The deeeper you breathe, the easier it is for me to make contact with your belly.

Your lap smells sharply of latex and pussy juice, but I can't say anything about it because my mouth is full of cock. You're rocking your hips so hard that most girls would be gagging by now. The veins in your forearms are sticking out and you're trying to grab my tits, so I slide your dick out of my mouth and climb onto your lap.

I'm so slippery you have to hold onto me. I reach behind me with one hand and dig under the harness to find your pussy.

Its hard for you to concentrate, so I'm doing most of the work now. My fingers are plunging in you as I slide up and down on your pole. "My man likes it when I play with his balls, doesn't he?" I ask.

You begin to contract around my fingers, and your nails dig into my ass as you start to climb. I'm whipering in pain and pleasure and it makes you thrash under me. You bite my neck and it sends me over. My back arches and there is a moment of complete stillness for both of us. You look at me and start to laugh.'

- Trish Kelly
'A Quiet Evening At Home'
in With A Rough Tongue: Femmes Write Porn (Amber Dawn and Trish Kelly, ed)

Its been almost a month of celibacy and I'm beginning to crack. I just don't know what I want. I mean, I do know what, its just with who that I really can't fathom. I want to be thrown down on a bed and cock-fucked hard for hours, until I am clawing at the cum-wet sheets and begging for a mercy I don't really desire, until I no have spit left to scream when my hair is pulled hard and my face slapped red raw, until I'm crying and laughing and squirting and there is a hand firmly around my throat allowing me exactly enough breath to orgasm, pillowbiting, cocksucking, gagging and gasping- just the usual really. But when I imagine it, I don't know who the cock is attached to, whether it is bioboy faggot-dick or more-than-a-mouthful trannyboy
or butch with harness and hard pink silicon:

'All the streets are crammed with things/Eager to be held/I know what hands are for/And I'd like to help myself/You ask me the time/But I sense something more/And I would like to give you what I think you're asking for/You Handsome Devil' (The Smiths 'Handsome Devil).

And I am so confused about who and what I am at the moment that even if I do somehow work out who and what I want I am unsure of how to ask for it, and totally lacking the confidence to cruise. None of my skins seem to fit right anymore, and I'm too embarrassed to present my adolescent self, all mumble and blush and half-sprouted wings, to the world and expect it to desire me.

This is how I come to be here on a Saturday night, sitting up alone in my living room with my computer and my fruit toast, reading Femme porn and fantasising about having leather faggots suck my cock. Ah, write some more and work on my shows, sublimate, sublimate, sublimate...

I Know What Butch Is

From Butch Is A Noun, by S. Bear Bergman:

'Butches are outlaws. Also gentlemen. Gentlemen who open doors and pick up checks and say "after you" and hold your umbrella over you in the rain while the water drips down their sleeves. But not gentlemen if being a gentleman means imposing on the unsuspecting their sexist modes of acting out the cultural paradigm of the helplessness of women. Except if the unsuspecting are crying and need a handkerchief, or elderly and need a seat to sit down in, then it's all right. Probably. But butches should never wait for a femme to tell them specifically that it is all right to behave in a gentlemanly fashion, they should just go ahead and do it because femmes like a butch with confidence, unless it turns out that she finds it offensive and feels as though you have imposed your gender fetish on her, you arrogant bastard..

I know what butch is. Butches are not beginner FTMs, except that sometimes they are, but it's not a continuum except when it is. Butch is not a trans identity unless the butch in questions says it is, in which case it is, unless the tranny in question says it isn't, in which case it's not. There is no such thing as butch flight, no matter what the femmes or elders say, unless saying that invalidates the opinions of femmes in a sexist fashion or the opinions of elders in an ageist fashion. Or if they're right. But they are not, because butch and transgender are the same thing with different names, except that butch is not a trans identity, unless it is; see above.

Butches are always tops. They always fuck the girls, and, for that matter, their partners are always girls; there is no such thing as a butch who is attracted to men. Well, transmen, but that's just butch-on-butch repackaged as faggotry. But no non-trans-men. Unless the butch in question is a non-trans-man, then it's okay. Except that non-trans-men cannot be butches, because butch is a queering of gender that assigned-male people cannot embody, unless they occasionally can, in which case they have to be gay men. Or the partners of femmes. Or not. But no one with an assigned-female body can be a butch and do it with assigned-male men. Unless they're femmes. Or butches. I'm really putting my foot down on this one. '

Click here for the full text. Its brilliant. And very, very Butch. Or maybe not.

Breast Is Chest, Naturally

It is possibly pure coincidence that the week I started pumping and upping my dosage of milk-making drugs to increase my supply is the very same week that I collected my first binder from a friend. So my bewildered breasts don't know whether they are coming or going- one minute they are encouraged to grow larger and tingly and milkily exuberant with letdown, only to be squished into flat silence beneath my tshirt the next. Haven't worn the binder out in public yet, but put it on as soon as I came home the night I received it and... well... I don't know if it was physical or psychological effect, or both, but wearing it made me hornier than I've been in ages. The intense pressure was quite arousing, like moderate breast bondage, and then to look down at a (relatively) flat chest... I do believe I'm going to like this a lot. Just have to remember not to fall asleep for the night in it, as rather uncomfortable the next day *ouch*.

Bulging Bags Of Joy

Came back to the ghetto after spending some quality hunting and gathering time in the 'burbs with: two blue eyeliners (one liquid, one pencil), a rabbit mask (for my Oestrus Bunny ensemble), 7 pairs of gloves (lacy, fishnet, ruched, velvet etc, for $2 a pair), some chocolate moulds (courtesy of my mother), a pair of clown pants ($1) and a beautiful new quilt cover and pillowslips (midnight blue fauz silk, embroidered with chrysanthemums and lillies) . And I had collected a blue velvet dressage helmet on the way there. So many dress-ups to play with!

It is indeed a good thing that Whoretic and I have started our project to convert our sunroom cum junkroom into a somewhat more creative space. Think dressing room cum workshop cum studio cum props department. Sewing machine, useful box, wardrobe and clothes racks full of costumes, bags and cartons of plastic fruit and hats and sequins and scraps of fabric waiting to be turned into glorious outfits! It will be fabulous once we have finished sorting it, and I think I will get a lot more projects completed if I can find the glue and the glitter and the gaffa when I need them.

As I type this, Whoretic is riding an imaginary horse around the living room. Sidesaddle of course, in the ruched velvet gloves and helmet, accompanied by various rubber duckies and plastic ponies. The absurd is never far away in this house...

Arlene TextaQueen Exhibition Dates

Felt-tips Forever: Some Things Never Change

Mori Gallery

168 Day St

Sydney 2000

Australia

4th - 28th April 2007

Open Wed - Sat 11am - 6pm

Opening Wed April 4th 6 - 8 pm

Find more TextaQueen here.

Camp Betty- Melbourne

Its not likely I'll be in Aus for the Queen's Birthday Long Weekend (June 7-9), but if I was, I'd be heading to Camp Betty in Melbourne's inner suburbs:

'It's Betty's Birthday, time to remember what this great nation was built on – criminals, perverts and stolen land.

So poofters, sheilas, reffos, squatters, deviants and outsiders – your time is now. Get your arses to Melbourne for a weekend of radical sex and politics – Camp Betty style.'

Zoo On Tour

If all goes to the current plan I will be in Europe sometime mid-May, for approximately 6 weeks. Hoping to book tickets in the next couple of weeks, so need to work out what cities to be in at what time. So far Berlin, Copenhagen and Amsterdam are on the list of places to go, and maybe pop over to Sweden for a day or two, and maybe New York on the way back home...

To my 'foreign friends': So, where are you all going to be when? What events are on, what art exhibits, theatre, kinky parties, performances, gigs, festivals? (I see that Copenhagen has a queer festival July 9-15th, and I may be able to just make that. What's it like?). Who has spare floor space for me to crash on? Who has naughty friends I have to meet? Also, as well as consuming a truckload of 'culture', I would like to do a show or two if possible, so if anyone knows of any queer parties or fetish events or freak performance nights etc during that time that might need some Zoo, please send me the details.

As I said, still in the planning stages, so if anyone has any suggestions of where to go and what to do please email me or leave a comment here! One thing for sure, I be wanting to track down these Dunst folk...

Metallic Mountains

Rachel smelled like water. Really! Wherever my aunt walked, there was the scent of fresh water. It was an impossible smell, green and delightful and in those dusty hills the smell of life and wealth.

- Anita Diamant
'The Red Tent'

I have just returned from my weekend at The Blue Mountains smelling of smoke from the log fire and red wine and cheeses that ooze (and the walnut sourdough they ooze across), and clean rain and elderflower tea.

AC says the chemotherapy coursing through her veins is made of platinum, and tastes like her mother's wedding ring. Everywhere she goes a metallic smell is with her, in her, she exudes the same aroma as the well-worn tools in your father's shed or old coins rubbed smooth by years of circulation. (I imagine, or in sympathy) I taste it and smell it too, my mouth and nostrils fill with trace elements, the lingering metals of tea brewed in a silver teapot or soft bubbles of blood when you bite your tongue.

Plastinated People

The Amazing Human Body: The Anatomical Display of Human Bodies, is on now at Moore Park, until June 11th:

'... an educational exhibit that is intended to provide audiences with a unique and educational perspective on the inner working of the human body by viewing real human specimens, preserved through a method called "plastination".The specimens are dry and odorless, and remain unchanged for a virtually unlimited amount of time, making them truly accessible. These characteristics lend plastinated specimens inestimable value both for training prospective doctors and for educating non-professionals in the field of medicine.The exhibition presents approximate 400 real human specimens, including 18 whole bodies and individual organs.'

Ever since a girl at Uni attempted to woo me by sneaking me into the dissection museum* I have had a fascination with people in jars. And this goes more than one step further... sigh...

So who wants to go play with the Plastinated??? Adult tix $23, concession $19, book through Ticketek or take our chacnes on the day (tix are apparently dated).


* The wooing didn't work too well. Although I did have quite an intense lust for the smell of her lab coat and dissection kit when she came out from cutting up specimens... think it was just the scent of formaldehyde?

The Nips Are Getting Bigger

(To quote Mental As Anything). Or at least, the nips are to be getting more plentiful, as NZ tries to breed four-nippled sheep. SMH quotes a Otago Daily Times report that:

'New Zealand scientists are trying to breed sheep with four nipples instead of two to cater to a growing tendency of ewes to have multiple births.More ewes are having triplets, but one of the lambs usually struggles to survive because it cannot get enough milk from its mother.'

Whoretic Hits The Nail On The Head- Again

Found this observation on Whoretic's blog, and it just about sums up what I am feeling at this moment. So just going to be lazy and quote her directly (after asking nicely of course):

'Then it happened unexpectedly. I was walking down the street, mulling over random relationship issues, when I started thinking, "I am so bored with relatinships. Thinking about them, being in them, talking about them. Bored, bored, bored"

It felt like a revelation. I might just be over all of this. Because if I can feel nothing but annoyance and boredom at the thought of significant others, then I might just have overwritten my girlie programming, which is supposed to push relationships and lurve as the answer- when stress, loneliness, dissatisfaction or simply a lack of plans for the immediate or long term future is bothering me.'

Bovinity

'Calling all dairymaids and cowboys! It’ll be warmer than fresh milk at April’s Hellfire, as MooZoo takes the bull by the horns in her latest incarnation as Divine Bovine. Unrefridgerated, unpasteurised, unhomogenised and unholy, this sacred cow will leave you udderly moo-ved as she slices and suckles her way from the belly to the breast of the beast. Marinated in her own juices, slipping and sliding across the slaughterhouse floor to stir your loins and plump you rump. Meat, Your Mother.'

Friday 20th of April 2007. Doors open around 10pm, MooZoo kicks up her hooves sometime after 1am.

Pony Play

Good heavens, these TShirtHell baby items are almost enough to make me want to breed.

Easter-ogen

I have already cheated and eaten my first hot cross buns of the season* (chocolate ones with Schwee, traditional ones with AuntyC) and have a hankering for one of those Italian Easter breads with the colored eggs plaited into them. I fear it will not be long before I will succumb to the temptations of foil-wrapped chokky rabbits and bilbies.

Of course, no Easter is complete without a trip to The Royal Easter Show. True, it is not the same since it moved from the ShowGrounds at Moore Park to Homebush Bay, but I still go almost every year. There are certain things I need every Autumn. Such as a triple stack of pancakes with whipped butter and maple syrup for lunch, preferable consumed while sitting in the blazing sun watching the woodchop. Followed at some point by cheese on a stick. And hours spent examining calligraphy, leatherwork, miniatures, quilling, paper tole, knitting, woodwork, ceramics, scuplture, photography, paintings, crochet, various grades of wool and some serious cake decorating. Not to mention the non-perishables, jams and preserves, and the giant fruit and vegetable displays! Patting and pawing the cows, sheep, poultry and horses. Perusing and possibly purchasing cheap jewellery and wigs and showbags. Perhaps a ride or two, or a go at the laughing clowns. All concluding with hustling for a spot on the grass to settle down and watch the fireworks from before catching the train home again, feet and stomachs aching and covered in dust. And this year The Show is even more exciting than usual...

The Psycho SideShow of Anarchy includes The Space Cowboy, a one-metre-tall belly dancer, an escape artist, a hula hoop girl, arial stunts and Shep Huntley, who's 'specialties include performances like the car battery electrocution, the bed of nails, the bowling ball drop, the keg lift and the incredible antique dingo trap.' As the Show's website explains:

'For those that like to venture to the dark side of art, the Psycho Sideshow of Anarchy in The Tiny Top Tent will host the retro rebirth of Show heritage. Located within The Tiny Top Tent the show brings together a spell-binding collection of old world performance art combined with a classic sideshow that pushes the boundaries and ignites the imagination. This show is located in the old President's Plaza, away from the bright lights and hype of the Carnival and is for the more extreme Sideshow-seekers. These exceptional artists are set to take you on a journey to the depths of human possibility.'

And what better time to go to The Show than when Spurs For Jesus are playing in the VB Shed??? They are doing two nights, Easter Sunday and Monday, but as Gurlesque is on the former I guess I will be Show-ing on the latter (that'd be April 9th, 7:30). Woohooooooooo! Be warned though, I am thinking of attending dressed as a sort of 'Cunt-ry Fair Kewpie Doll', so whoever accompanies me must be prepared that I shall in all likelihood be wearing a tutu, some glitter, possibly false eyelashes, a pink cowboy hat and assorted sparkly trims and trinkets. And yes, you can tie me to a stick if you like, but only long enough for a photo or two!


* Cheated in that hot cross buns are properly consumed on Good Friday, and I still have flashback of Catholicism from time to time. Speaking of which, think I might go to the Latin Good Friday service in Lewisham- its one of the most beautiful services of any religion I have ever been to. Anyone lapsed or simply curious that wants to join me is most welcome. I am warning you though, it is a LONG service, possibly 3 or 4 hours.

Mulling the Mountains

Shall be heading up to the Blue Mountains for the weekend with AuntyC and a beautiful queeny gayboy. The aim is to op-shop and buy bric-a-brac, procure all manner of organic goods and baked delicacies, watch DVDs and read a lot. Its not really cold enough yet for overcoats and mittens, but all the same The Mountains do always make me yearn for log fires and warming brews. Ahh, soon it will be the weather to make mulled wine, such as this Glögg I found at SwedishKitchen:

5 whole white cardamom pods, cracked
2 whole cloves
1 1-inch piece of cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon dried orange peel
2 Tablespoons brown sugar
1/3 cup Madiera wine
1 cup good-quality red wine such as burgundy

Put all of the ingredients in a stainless steel pan and slowly heat but do not boil. Strain and drink immediately or for a stronger flavor, let spices steep for several hours or overnight then strain and gently reheat.

Ah, I first fell in love with Glögg when I lived in Sweden, served with raisons and almonds in it. I am also quite find of the German Glühwein, served piping hot at the Christmas markets at Zoogarten. Perfect!

Psycho Pussy Is In The House

It seems I am now a True Lesbian, living in a household with four other Queer Wimmin and three female cats. Two of these felines belong to Whoretic, and are quite well-behaved. The other came to us from a friend who moved away, and this particular cat, PsychoPussy (PP) is quite mad. Her tail wags a lot, which is a good sign for a canine but not so for a feline, as it means she is feeling grumpy or aggro (I think? any cat-whisperers out there?). She is very vocal, snappy, whines constantly for food even when she has just eaten and I suspect picks fights with Whoretic's pair. These behaviours are annoying, true, especially for the non-human members of the house. But I can put up with them. Its PP's new-found habit of shitting on my belongings that I do find somewhat bothersome. A couple of weeks ago she did defecate on my desk, and yesterday when I came home after spending a night at my parent's place I found pussy-poo on my quilt. (Of course, I am presuming it is PP, when it could be that the other two are responsible and setting her up.) Be keeping the door shut real tight from now on methinks. The more I deal with cats the more I realise I never want children- can't handle the constant stench of their litter or threat of their fleas!

Nipple Breath

(This baby tshirt is, of course, from TShirtHell.)

Its been a while since I have given anyone 'nipple breath', and sometimes I do miss the intimacy of suckling... a plastic pump is a plastic pump, and no substitute for the mouth of another.

Flat-shoed lesbians

'Give me a glass of water and a couple of lesbians'
Christine, in Last of Sheila

I couldn't work out why the side of my head was sore this morning. Then I remembered the stiletto and the queer dyke whore.

Best Be Minding Your Binding

(Sign is from Crackers, in January)

Sunday Morning Ramblings

Its been three weeks today since I've gotten down and dirty with anyone other than myself. The odd snog in a bar or quick grope against a pool table but that's about it. Actually, that's not quite true, as I did have a spectacular bootjob from Hunter last night at Manacle. But no rolling around all loud and sweaty, no cocks and fists and amyl and bits in bits- you know what I mean.

Somehow I don't feel sexy at the moment, or at least, I don't feel sexy like I used to. I can pull on my fishnets and a small dress and lipstick and diamantes and corset and frilly knickers and glitter but when I hit the dancefloor I've forgotten how to move. I can pull on my camos, belt, boots and collar but when I'm standing across the bar from some hot leather boy I've forgotten how to cruise. Nothing seems to fit anymore, even my body doesn't feel quite like I remember it, as if my parts have been assembled in the wrong order or proportion or with one piece too few or too many.

Gaylourdes and I went to The Impy after Manacle, and drank a little beer (I know). The place was packed full of pretty people, pervy people, freaky people, trashy people, happy people. I searched the corners for something or someone who might make make sense of my situation, might make it all fit together. Chatted to a motley assortment of these folk, swapping tales of fisting and fucking and parties and all the usual pub smalltalk, watched others dance and pick each other up and just couldn't seem to find any way to connect with it all. Sure, I conversed and laughed and schmoozed but all the while as I tried to engage I slipped further away from it all, trying to keep up with the jokes and the flirtations but never quite being able to. To add to the frustration of this situation, I have a quite annoying inkling that I inadvertantly turned down a rather nice offer through sheer obliviousness (if it was an offer, and 'you' are reading this, please feel free to repeat it a little more blatantly and I daresay I'd be rather happy to take you up on it. Dang!). Hmmm... for all the shagging about I've done it my time I can be totally useless when it comes to picking up on when I'm being picked up, especially when I'm not feeling particularly comfortable in my own skin and unable to comprehend that anyone would find me worth cruising. Caught a cab home, alone.

Crawled into bed and slept with Hunter's old boot rag on my pillow. Fitful sleep, waking up to the smell of polish. Pressing the soaked cloth into my face and breathing in deeply...

Loving Comfort

'The Loving Comfort Breast Binder from CMO Incorporated costs about $19 and comes highly-recommended by some larger guys. This product was originally made to stop milk production in nursing mothers, but FTMs report that it also does a great job of binding and is very breathable and comfortable.'

Found the above on Andy's FTM passing tips, and it was so perfectly apt that I had to mention it. Daresay its a curious product name though for something that is designed to prevent any 'loving comfort', at least in the form of breastfeeding.

Mixed Bag

* Still need a job, but probably get enough random work at Uni to keep me going for the next few weeks. Thanks to all who sent me links and hints- and please keep sending them. Oh, and just got an increase on my credit card, which means that I can almost definately afford Europe if things keep going how they are.
* My friend with the tit tumour has only been doing chemo three weeks and it (the tumour, not the tit) has already shrunk by half. BIG BIG BIG HAPPY DANCE!
* Due to a distinct lack of company, and the energy required to make it through a five band lineup without beer, I shall most likely not be at the Spurs gig tonight. However, I shall be toddling along to the Punx Picnic for a bit today, and then heading into Manacle around 9:30 for SLPA night (but mostly to get my favourite TBear to lick my boots. Nice.)
* Whore short film night was brilliant, with much discussion and some very good docos. Had to keave half way through as it was running a bit behind time and I had to head to my next engagement, but was great to see a good mixed crowd in attendance. And Scarlet Harlot is my latest hero, thanks to her Safe Sex Slut song and filmclip. Hilarious, and for some reason reminded me of the late great Divine- never a bad thing in my opinion.
* Hellfire last night was fun. Was SauerKraut's birthday bash, so mostly hung out with her and chatted and danced quite a bit with BW and MyFaveMermaid-yay for Sveta on the decks- and managed to do it all without drinking alcohol (save the half a vodka MFM donated to me on her way out). Was Hellfire's birthday too, and for some reason it seemed to attract a much quirkier crowd than I've seen there in a while. Oh, and I met my biggest fans to date, a couple who apparently make sure they come to HF every time they see me on the bill, despite living in LITHGOW. Blush. Then tucked up in beddybyes by 3:30am, and no hangover today. Hmmm... sobriety sometimes ain't such a bad thing!

Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety

- Tanita Tikaram
'Twist In My Sobriety'

SheilaFestin'

SHEILA AUTONOMISTA: a chickfest in the innerwest. a festival brought to you by women active in Sydneys anarchic inner edge. the five day festival promises a diverse fusion of ideas, experiences and actions to influence, inspire, educate and excite.. there's bound to be something to take your fancy. punk rock pirates, riot gurrls, drag kings, qweer babes and wild cat activists get it on at a whole swag of cultural events. watch the street and your guides for further sheila programme info, or go the sheilaautonomista myspace page.

Apr 25 2007 7:00P	Sheila Autonomista Opening Night - Scabaret
Apr 26 2007 10:00A	workshops	@ Sydney
Apr 26 2007 7:00P	"Academy Broads" film night	@ Sydney
Apr 27 2007 10:00A	workshops	@ Sydney
Apr 27 2007 7:00P	Matracidal Tendencies - killing the mother concept art exhibition	@ Sydney
Apr 28 2007 10:00A	workshops
Apr 28 2007 4:00P	SCOOTER Sheila Show	@ TBA
Apr 29 2007 10:00A	workshops	@ Sydney
Apr 29 2007 7:00P	"Lady Licks and Rhymes" HIP HOP night	@ Sandringham Hotel

Also, they are currently looking for chix who want to run workshops, from 26-29th April. If you want to do one or have any questions contact Sezz at frankensezz@hotmail.com.

Fonzie Says 'Don't Touch Me There. Ayyyyyyyy!'

From the wonderful world of YouTube , we have Strong Kids, Safe Kids! Featuring Fonzie and a strange song about the correct names for private parts (penis, vulva, anus- in case you were wondering) in a anti child sex abuse piece. Surreal, but guarantee you can't get the tune out of your head!

Whore Flix tomorrow

an evening of diverse, dynamic shorts by sex worker film-makers from canada to cambodia, presented by women from the australian sex worker rights movement

at jura books
440 parramatta rd, petersham
www.jura.org.au

this friday (as in, tomorrow, the 16th)
from 6pm
suggested donation $5

The Playground

Unfortunately I can't make it along this, but the invite comes from one of my fave artsy types, and I promised to send at least a couple of my minions along to ooh and ahh! So, if you are looking for something to do before heading to The Sly next Wednesday, here it is:

'You are invited to the opening of THE PLAYGROUND. The Newtown Hotel's new gallery space. Wed 21st March in the upstairs bar. Launch starts at 6:30. Great undiscovered artists on show as well as some well knowns. Films, music, pinball and air hockey. We're putting the fun back into Art!'

Oh, and speaking of Art, if you get a copy of this weeks (ie March 21st) Picture magazine, yep, the one full of soft porn shots of readers wives and smutty jokes and endless ads for phone sex lines, you will find a not-too-bad photo of me and Hunter at Mardi Gras. Part of a tribute to barebreasted/scantily clad (presumed to be) lesbian types it seems. And yes, it was me with my shirt off. Same outfit as above in the pic of me hanging with my homies at MG.

I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of you all round my cell
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well

- The Vapors
'Turning Japanese'

Zoo Goes Underground

For reasons best left mostly unspoken at the moment, Zoo has decided to 'go underground' again. What form this will take exactly is as yet unconfirmed, but don't be surpised if you don't see me around the old familar places very much for a while. Its nothing personal, just necessary.

KING GUISE- Call for submissions from Kings Of Color

This was just posted on a queer performance list I'm on...

'Spread far and wide. This may very well be the first book dedicated to Kings of Color published in English, Spanish, and French.

KING GUISE
Call for visual/ digital / photographic images of self-identified,of 'Color' Drag Kings, Genderqueers, Male Impersonators, Masculine Impressionist, Studs, FtMs, Butches and related trans- identitiesfor proposed coffee table book. This collection of images and accompanying text will focus on andexplore the act of putting on masculinity / man / he / h?m.Special consideration for 'action images' depicting the putting on, taking off, performance or 'captured desire' of the 'masculinized-self.' King Guise will use critical inquiry to investigate the process and execution of these transformationsand the eventual outcome, if any, of public display andinteraction. Thru dialogue with actual image 'recorders,'the subjects/objects themselves and the voyeurs drawn to theseparticular 'looks,' King Guise will delve into the murky paletteof 'gendered desire and play,' with particular attentiongiven to the operation and influence of cultural, racial andregional 'ethics/values/norms.'All submissions, commentary and visual submissions shall be fullyconsidered. IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE ACADEMIC, "POLITICALLY APPROPRIATE" or "GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT" I am also accepting portraits, written works, sketches, drawings, digital imagery,reprints, cartoons, erotica and more.

King Guise will be published in English, French, and Spanish!

Word Count/Page Limits:
Poetry/Rhymes – Maximum 3 pages per poem/rhyme and 3 poems per poet/mc
Graphic Stories – Maximum three pages/submission (number of panelsup to you) Up to three pieces per 'artist'.
Photographs/Paintings/Collage/Drawings- 3-5, scanned as B/W only.Royalties will be paid!Please send entries as .tif, .jpeg format, word or txt attachments
DEADLINE: May 1st, 2007
Collaborative Editors: Drag King Sile Singleton, Erin O'Neill, and Noelle Campbell-Smith.
Publisher: Homofactus Press. ( www.homofactuspress.com)
Send submissions to kingguise@homofactuspress.com.'

Photo Disturbance

If you received an email from me in the last day or so that was supposed to have photos attached, and they are either missing or wrong, please contact me. I downloaded a whole heap of pix last night and something went awfully wrong when I sent about half of them to folk. Have scrapped 'em all and started again, and seem to be alright now!

BloodRedHead

Went to a play party on Friday night. Wasn't in the mood for much, but then DaddyN found some needles and I decided a couple of 18g would be nice in my head. It hurt like hell really, much more than I expected, and couldn't leave them in for long, but still was VERY exciting and pretty when they came out and the blood dripped all over my face and into my mouth...

Out and About

Have been out and about being all cultural the last few weeks. Two nights at the Studio, first seeing The Tiger Lillies, a bizarre three piece from Europe who sing very wrong cabaret-style songs about gonorrhea and banging the nails into Jesus. Ended up drinking with them afterwards at the Opera Bar, especially hanging out with the drummer Adrian (who bore an odd resemblence to my grrlBear Daddy of Copenhagen). Then the next week we went and saw David Hoyle perform a mixture of general ranting about boring gay people, painting, singing and encouraging us to overthrow the state. Perfect! Particularly perfect for me was that he is from Manchester, same as my Dad, and has that great Northern humour that's black as pitch- and I ablolutely love.

Volunteering for Queer Screen allowed me to see the amazing Boy I Am, a documentary about FTMs and feminism (featuring Judith "Jack" Halberstam), Paper Dolls, another doco, this time about Filipino transwomen who work in Tel Aviv as carers for elderly Jewish men by day and do fabulous drag shows by night and The Itty Bitty Titty Committee, a hilarious (fictional) story of the C.I.A (Clits In Action), a bunch of militant feminist activists by the director (?) of But I'm A Cheerleader.

Aside from that, went to Gurlesque (yummy! especially sitting on the lap of a rather cute creature from Melbourne), and saw the Owen Leong milk pieces (inspiring). Now, I just need to start making some work of my own again!

SPURS DOING IT FOR THE KIDS MARCH 17TH

A TEAGUE OF THEIR OWN - A Rock Benefit for SIDS
Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) always affects somebody else. Late last year, a group of inner-west bands became that ‘somebody else’. Saddened by the loss of their little mate Teague Richard Barrett, they have decided to do the only thing they are good at.

On Saturday 17 March 2007, the Annandale Hotel will be hosting a benefit gig to raise funds for the Australian charity SIDS and Kids NSW. SIDS and Kids NSW provide 24-hour bereavement support for individuals and families who experience the death of their baby during pregnancy, birth and infancy. This includes miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death, sudden infant death (SIDS) and the death of a child up to 6 years of age.

A TEAGUE OF THEIR OWN band line up is:
• Spurs for Jesus
Shaggin’ Wagon
Happy Hate Me Nots
Handsome Young Strangers
Shouties
Todd Sparrow

Doors open at 5.30pm, the first band is on at 6.00pm.
Great music, great prizes (including 2 TICKETS TO SPLENDOUR IN THE GRASS and HOMEBAKE!), and a great cause.Tickets are $20 at the door, or available in advance from the venue. All proceeds from the door, raffles and auctions will be going directly to assist SIDS and Kids NSW.

Work Wanted

Zoo needs a job. I have enough work for the next couple of weeks, but after that its going to get pretty yucky if I don't find something... At least a couple of days a week, preferably three or four. Don't mind what I'm doing, though would prefer admin/research/market research/customer service type role if possible. If anyone hears of anything going, please let me know or pass on my details. Ta!

'My Lovely Lady Lumps'*

Last year a friend and I used to cook dinner once a week for a friend who had cancer and his family. After he died we continued the tradition, making food and watching DVDs every Monday night with his wife and the boys. Lately, being too concerned with my own traumas, I haven't been going very much. Yesterday I got an email from my friend asking when I was coming along again, and as I had the evening free I went along last night. After the general catch-up (the Mardi Gras report, the talk of work, questions re PhD etc) there was a moment when my friend looked at me and said 'I need to tell you my news, and its not good news". She has breast cancer, and has already undertaken her first round of chemotherapy. Another couple of rounds, hopefully the tumour will shrink, and then she'll have a lumpectomy. More chemo, some radiotherapy. Ouch. Its not spread to any other parts of her body, but its still pretty scary. Today she texted me to tell me that a quarter of her hair had fallen out in the shower. It was only then that it really hit me and I wanted to cry.

* Heck, if you can't fix it you might as well sing about it. And she is a Black Eyed Peas fan.

Squatters Win!

Happy story about Iceland in the SMH:

'AN INNER city council has given the green light to squatting as an answer to Sydney's housing shortage. Leichhardt Council has ruled that four squatters living in an abandoned harbourside building in Balmain may stay there until it is demolished at least eight months from now. The council will even investigate reconnecting power for the occupants... The three-year-old squat, known as Iceland, is destined to be demolished to make way for park land.'

Milky Opening

From the diary of Mistress O'Mayhem:

Owen Leong will hold a solo exhibition of performance videos at Mori Gallery in which he explores race, gender and masculinities. In 'White Noise' the artist is held in a prison of white light and his body is penetrated by milk that flows with a will of its own. In 'Milk Ring' the artist is trapped under a ring of dripping milk and struggles to solve a honey puzzle that binds his hands. Leong's work occupies a space of alien bodies, abject rituals, desire and repulsion.
Opening: Wednesday 7 March 2007, 6-8pm
Exhibition: 7 - 28 March 2007
Venue: Mori Gallery
Address: 168 Day Street, Sydney NSW 2000

Unfortunately the MOM is still far from these shores, but Madam Phantasm will be accompanying me. Anyone else for a Wednesday night art jaunt?

Bornstein Dyke Quote Makes Zoo Smile Lots

Katrina Fox interviewed Kate Bornstein for this weeks SX (issue 318, March 1 2007). And never one to disappoint, our Kate gives us this magnificent observation:

"Dykes are my favourite people. Man, they're like Pippi Longstocking- like Willow from Buffy, with a good sense of humour. Dykes are not necessarily lesbians; they have all kinds of sexualities. A dyke is a queer lesbian with wider parameters of sexuality and gender identity. A dyke might fuck a fag, a lesbian I don't think would."

And on that note, Zoo shuffles off to beddybyes for the night, to rest her aching thighs (don't ask, just blame the Bears *lol*) and dream of her costumes for the weekends adventures... tutu? leather harness? vagina dentata knickers? feathered fan? fishnets? large amounts of glitter and diamantes? packing cock? bandages? Too exhausted to do anything other than stare around the room at random collections of props and accessories and know that it will all come together at the last minute. Always does! HAPPY MARDI GRAS FOLKS!

Zoo Gets Her Spark Back

Not quite sure why, but am feeling a lot more mentally stable in the last week or so. Still been getting trashy, but happy-trashy not distressed-trashy. And not happy in a manic way really either, just kind of... content, like everything is okay, and will stay okay. Maybe its the effect of the Mardi Gras vibe in the air everywhere, maybe its going out and dancing in my underwear with my Bears, maybe its having lots of naughtiness last Sunday at the sex party, maybe its reading The Leather Daddy and The Femme again. Just generally feeling more confident, like going out dancing hard and cruising like a faggot and running about flagging and making dirty boys like my boots (everyone needs a goal). And being more confident means I am much less volatile and unpredictable and cranky. Good for everyone!

Ditched marshalling in favour of helping out Sydney Leather Pride. Will probably march with them, if not Glitter Militia (what a name!). Haven't done much/anything about a costume, so figuring full black tutu, lots of silver and black glitter, leather harness top, maybe packing (?), fishnets, etc. Still debating whether to shave my head or not, though think I will. Its always cathartic, and doesn't look half-bad either :)

International Women's Day March

'Starting from Sydney Town Hall at 12 noon on Saturday 10 March going to Hyde Park. Theme of the march is: Stop the War on Women: In the Home, the Workplace and the World.'

I have been marching in this for the last fifteen years or so. Who wants to join me this time around?

Tattooed Madonnas and Feral Children

Lately I have had several folk insist that I must go to New York, although nobody can explain quite why- just that I would love the culture. Daresay it has never held much appeal, although wih The Guggengheim holding exhibitions like Family Pictures, reviewed by Leslie Camhi in her Voice article, Tattooed Madonnas and Feral Children. It contains works by 16 artists, including my personal faves Sally Mann and Patty Chang, and Catherine Opie's piece:

'Self Portrait/Nursing (2004). It shows the hefty, tattooed photographer (faintly scarred with the word "pervert" carved in cursive script across her chest) cradling a blond baby boy who feeds at her breast, each gazing upon the other with rapt attention.'

and some who I've never heard of, but must investigate

'Janine Antoni's photographic triptych of her parents, made-up and cross-dressed to resemble each other, throws off all of our perceptions; her "Dad-as-Mom" appears more maternal than Mom herself, and vice versa.'

For some reason I cannot bring myself to pump at the moment. My breasts ache, are full to bursting, but I can't seem to take the 20minutes out to pump. Its strangley unappealling, although I think I still want to be lactating. And really, I need to start going harder at the moment, up the drugs and the pumping and see how much milk I can make. Got the show in April and a photo-shoot lined up too, so now is no time to dry up!

Keep imagining myself without tits. Not helped any by attending the Bears Underwear party last night (dancing for three hours or so, coat check for over 5 hours), and picturing myself as one of the smaller, musclier only half-hairy ones, with a shaved head and leather harness and camos. Ooooh, I love my furry family! And they love me... much bear-hugging and kissing and bumping and grinding to be had, with random sweet boys coming up and saying things like 'I don't know why, but when I saw you on the dancefloor I just had to say THANKYOU!' and other spontaneous ego-boosting and bonding incidents. Has made me all toey though, and in the mood to throw on my army pants and boots and a singlet and head for The Newtown to prowl around some boy-meat.