'There's more to life than books you know...

But not much more' sang our Mozza in 'Handsome Devil', and this was made very clear to me today when I discovered that as I have suspended my PhD the Uni library has taken my borrowing privileges away. Thisdecision, though quite easily reversed it seems, is still making me all twitchy and shaky and lost. Should all be reinstated by tomorrow I hope, and in the meantime I have been playing around online and finding all sorts of inspiring folk and art and performance. Here's a brief selection of my findings for the day, in no particular order:

Vaginal Davis- 'Frequently in her stage shows Davis performs "shrimping", a slang term for toe sucking. On her tour with Margaret Cho she performed the "Ancient Shrimp Ritual" during which she would select a male volunteer from the audience, bind him to a chair, remove his shoes, slather his feet with whipped cream and cherries and would then proceed to suck his toes to the tune of Prince's "Cherries in the Snow".' (from Wikipedia). Violent Beauty:Sadomasochism and Performance by Catherine MacGregor, in which she describes her 2000 peformance, 'Catholic Sex': 'The moment of piercing my own breasts was for me a literalization of the moment where the Virgin is told upon Christ's crucifixion, "you will feel as though a sword has pierced your own breast." 'A documentary called The Human Canvas, featuring Kira O'Reilly who 'invited members of the audience to cut her as part of the performance', and Alison Newstead who's Housewife Suspensions have her hanging 'from hooks from the ceiling whilst first knitting, ironing and, for the final one, having a quintessential English tea party complete with scones, jam and cucumber sandwiches… '. Does anyone have a copy of this doco?

Hmmm... mutter mutter... shuffle around room looking distracted... struggle to find anything unique about own art rooted in white middle-class Catholic feminity and preoccupied with bodily fluids and breaking of bodily boundaries...

Last April...

It was my brother's wedding day, and I was sending filthy text messages all weekend to a new love of my own. In a temporary fit of madness we soon shared living quarters for a while (out of his generosity and my neccessity). The days were getting shorter and the sunshine was getting weaker, and the flowers of romance bloomed brightly behind the hothouse curtains, kept from freezing by the steam from our coffee and the warmth of our breath. The lino was cold but his slippers were warm, and as I stood stirring the food on the stove my cheeks were flushed by his gaze. We walked dogs across the morning frost and watched through the window as hail covered our footprints in the park.

'Hand in glove
We can go wherever we please
And everything depends upon
How near you stand to me' - The Smiths

This April I buy more blankets, extra pillows to snuggle up to, and wake to find my lover's-grip holds only my hot water bottle. I make my bed up with fresh sheets, and scented candles sit on the bedhead where the lube used to wait. Its the bed of a single person, mussed up only on one side, books strewn where another's body would lie. My toys are packed away for the off-season, not knowing when or if the game will begin again. I walk the streets alone and while I get the umbrella to myself, and the heater too, I'm colder than ever before.

Post-Partum Blues

My birthplace is gone. The sling, scene of so many labours, lies discarded in a box somewhere, my amyl spills and bodily fluids soaked into the leather. The mirrors no longer capture my foetal form, the cupboards no longer hold the canes and whips that facilitated my arrival. The amniotic spa is drained and cold, dried out, redundant. The moans have been steamcleaned out of the carpets, the blood has been scrubbed from the tiles with hospital grade disinfectant. The flowers have rotted and the cigars are long extinguished. Nobody is expecting anymore...

Zoo On Tour- CANCELLED

Much excitement has been had in planning and scheming my grand tour overseas, researching festivals and working out who will be where when so I can catch up with my foreign friends. Unfortunately though, there has not been much money coming in during all this planning, and now I find myself with no work in the immediate future, and enough $ to get OS, pay insurance and taxes and cover my rent here- BUT HAVE ALMOST NO EURO WHEN I ARRIVE! Now, as much I sometimes enjoy flying by the seat of my pants, and can live quite cheaply, I would rather not find myself having spent $2000AU to get across the seas, only to find I couldn't afford the 5 euro to get into an exhibition I wanted to see, or more than one beer at a bar, or a coffee in a cafe, or presents for folk at home (or even postcards), or go op-shopping, so, as much as it pains me to do it, I have decided to stay here for the time being. Ouch! But... not all bad I guess. Can go to Camp Betty in Melbourne if I so desire, and can get a lot of reading and writing and working on 'my own projects' (like, my PhD isn't my own project, but you know what I mean!) done, and have a bit of time away, and try to find my spark again. Doing lots of 'stuff', shows and conference and much social/community work and colloborations with various people etc but still it all seems a bit lacklustre. I get to the event but then I can't find the conversations to have with people, I make it to the bar but I've forgotten how to flirt, I'm at the play party but I don't know what play I want, so bloody indecisive and unable to work out what it is that will get me excited! Today I stood in the bargain shop for ten minutes, trying to pick new flannie jammies. One pair was leopard print with giant pink roses, the other dark blue checks. In the end I came out with neither pair, as to choose either felt like defeat somehow.

Still, one thing that does excite me is having a pile of friends over to watch kid's films etc tomorrow afternoon. The feast included lamingtons and tiny teddy biscuits and vegan cookies and hot chocolate and popcorn and crinkle cut chips, and I am going to make pikelets to serve with raspberry jam. NattieTheFlattie is working on a vegan chokky cake as we speak, and perhaps I will waneder off and buy some ginger beer in the morning. Such a spread! And have assembled a variety of blankets and soft toys and cushions with which to snuggle up, and my favourite red velvet nightie to snuggle in.

Powdered Milk

At an exhibition opening earlier this week I struck up a conversation with one of the artists about our respective work. When I discussed my lactation project, she told me that she was breastfeeding her child at the time her own grandmother died, and as she cleaned out the matriarch's effects she came across her compact. For motivations unknown to me, she pressed the makeup to her breast, and the scent of her own milk mingled with the scent of her grandmother's face powder... As with much I have encountered this week, this story released a flood of emotions in me. The use of milk in beauty products, the lifeless powder damp with the lifegiving milk, the passing down of feminine rites and rituals...

International Whores Day Extravaganza

In Lyon, France on June 2 1975, sex workers and their supporters took over a church and staged a sit in over a number of days. The action was in protest against the increasing number of arrests of street sex workers, police harassment of them and the lack of interest shown by the police in solving murders and other crimes committed against them. This action inspired other sex workers around the world to start to organize themselves politically, giving birth to the sex worker rights movement that we have today.

What: Film Night!

Short films by and about sex workers all over the world, and a sneek peak at local talent also! See a few Australian premieres as well as some old favourites. Come and be entertained by sex workers stories on film.

Who: Everyone When: Thursday 31st May, 7pm – 9pm Where: 349 Crown Street, Corner of Albion Street, Surry Hills How much: $10
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
What: International In-Service on International Sex Workers!

From Taiwan to Phnom Penh, from Poland to Bangladesh, the intrepid travellers of the Scarlet Alliance Migration Working Party will present on issues at home and abroad. This is a fundraiser for the future travel of members of the WorkingParty.

Who: Everyone, please RSVP to info@scarletalliance.org.au or 9326 9455 When: Wednesday 6th June, 10.30 for an 11am start – 2pm Where: 349 Crown Street, Corner of Albion Street, Surry Hills How Much: $50, includes lunch.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

What: Red Umbrella Solidarity Event!

This afternoon will be one to remember!!! We ask supporters to show solidarity with sex workers and keep the customs of International Whores Day alive. In Lyon, France, in 1975, supporters of sex workers joined in unity with local sex workers to ensure the sex workers' children were not taken away by authorities. This important gesture of community spirit still means so much today – we would love to see you at Sydney Opera House on the 3rd of June. Bring red umbrella, colourful mask and sense of fun!

Who: Sex Workers and Supporters When: Sunday 3rd June, 2pm Where: Sydney Opera House Forecourt How Much: Free!

A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course...

...But What Is A Man Who Has Sex With One? asks Nathan Lee when he reviews the new Robinson Devor film Zoo (insert sniggers from the less mature of my readership here) in The Village Voice article Stable Boys:

So allow me to pose another question, this time to the righteous spay-and-neuter set: How is chopping off a dog's balls (for his own good) less cruel than licking them (which is, you must admit, also for his own good)? There isn't a pet on the planet that has consented to surgery—or, for that matter, being kept in an apartment, fed (poisonous) Alpo, or dressed in funny little sweaters. Let's not pretend we domesticate animals for anything other than our pleasure (emotional and ethical), and in doing so inflict all manner of unnatural things on them in the name of their health and happiness.

Hmm, something to think about indeed, dear Zoo-philiacs!

Breasts Need Rest

Today I have been extremely 'close to the water' (as SK would say) ever since I woke up. Feel a little hormonally unbalanced , a little 'crying at kittens', a little melancholy, a little bewildered, a little sleepy and a little lost. Not altogether sure why, but have an inkling...

Haven't had the inclination to pump or take a single milk-drug since the Divine Bovine show on Friday night. Can still spray quite a bit from both breasts though! They feel a bit full, but not hard, and getting the odd sharp pain but just can't bring myself to do anything about it. Figured they would have dried up by now, but seems they are more forthcoming with exuberant displays now than when I was coaxing and coddling them. Thinking I might let them loose of the lactation for a while all the same. Between the performance and the paper last week, and doing Milk'N'Cookies roving act for Scabaret last night its all been emotionally quite exhausting, on a number of levels, and even if the 'feeding' isn't 'real' all of the time, there's still a sense of being eaten alive (add to this the EAT-scar carved into my belly which pulls painfully tight and threatens to reopen when I move with too much abandon, and hurts when I am hugged too hard, and the hook-marks in my back that sharply remind me of my proclivity to pull myself apart whenever I dance too enthusiastically, and my body is constantly and consciously aware of itself).

Zoo's Got A New Kind Of Kick

Last night I did my very first flesh pull, against the PervertOfPiercing from PolyMorph. He had the hooks in his chest, me in my back, and I dragged him around from one end of the studio to the other. His faithful assistant, BodModBoy, helped throw the hooks (they did one each of mine, simultaneously), provided general advice and encouragement, and ran a neuro wheel over the flesh that was pulled up, making me shiver and giggle somewhat! As I muttered more than once in my semi-ecstatic state, 'Zoo's got a new kinda kick'... Sure, I have been hook suspended before (once), but this was something completely different, and I loved the movement and the energy of it... Will be doing one again for an upcoming show, and can't hardly wait!

Fashionanarchy 2007

Hello, and welcome to Fashionanarchy's 2007 show "The Fitting Room".... the real-life, make-believe, fantasy department store of the Newtown Fashion Week(end) - Flaunt It.

We would love you to come and have fun in our reconstructed department store world, packed with racks of clothes, in all manner of departments. There's leisurewear, bridal, after 5, larger sizes, ladieswear, menswear, hats, wigs, and more. Each of our departments is sourced by Newtown's best vintage retailers, and the fashions are wonderful! There are inhouse stylists to attend to your fashion needs. There are Fashionanarchy style performances, with performers performing designer's designs.There are wicked beats from Kooky's Gemma. Plus friendly drink prices, free bubbles on arrival, and an allround fabulous fashion time.Oh, and remember the swap room! If you bring an outfit to exchange you can go home in a brand new outfit of your choice, from the Fitting Room's exclusive swap room collection. Plus there's a discount on entry for swappable outfits.

All of this is happening at Newtown Community Centre, May 19th from 9pm. MC'd by Master Tom, $10 entry. Last year it was a most silly and frivolous night, and from the above I imagine this year it will be even more so!

Like Son

From The Advocate website comes this review of Felicia Luna Lemus's Like Son, by Regina Marler:

'Like Son is a post-trans novel—possibly the first to be published.
Frank's transsexuality is not the subject. When his mother shoves
$5,000 at him to get him to leave her front doorstep, he uses the
money not for top surgery but to escape to New York to find new love
and unfold the significance Nahui Olin held for his long-dead
grandmother. There's no gender-related angst in the book, and no
attempt to conceal Frank's birth gender. The occasional difficulties
or awkwardness—the moments when Frank doesn't pass, for instance, like
at the hospital after a train accident—aren't glossed over, but they
don't form or influence Frank's self-image or affect the ongoing
action of the novel.

Frank tells his girlfriend Nathalie that he chose his name in honor of
his father and "for its function as a verb." When she challenges him,
he sends her to the dictionary: "Webster's, definition 11: to enable
to pass or go freely." Then he offers a kind of credo: "To live
without the curses and consequences that crippled my family before me,
to break free of a life I preferred were not mine, to pass without
constraint through the world…as a man, a good and decent man—to this I
aspired."'

Shake Your Little Tush On The Catwalk

Models Wanted:

For LunaMorph Fashion Show, May 18th at Carriageworks. All shapes, sizes, genders required, the freakier the better, to walkthe catwalk for a number of shops and artists. If you are interested in strutting your stuff, please call Pieta 0418 698 304 ASAP. Danke darlings!

'If you want me, You can find me

Left of center
Wondering about you'

- Suzanne Vega
'Left Of Center'

Always. And if you require more specific directions, this week you can find me:

Monday night, at NewQ from 9pm for the FTM films. Tuesday night, at PolyMorph for my very first flesh pull, then Mr Mary's for BootCamp, working coat check from 9-11. Wednesday at The Annandale for Spurs for Jesus during the day, then performing at Scabaret at 34b in the evening. Thursday at the Matricidal Tendency art show opening at 22 Enmore Rd from 7pm. Friday at Academy Broads film night, from 7pm at LanFranchis. Saturday at Henson Park to watch the Jets win, from 3pm (must check that time though). Sunday at my place, watching kiddies films and tv shows and drinking hot chocolate... Phew! I may not be strictly working or studying most of the time at the moment, but its still a busy life for Zoo! Though today I am just recuperating in bed with my laptop and cups of tea, catching up on emails and trying to get my head back together enough to cope with organising the next round of adventures...

Milked Dry

On Friday I gave a paper at the Somatechnics conference held by Macquarie University. It was a highly personal account of my induced lactation project, part blog entry, spoken word piece, anecdote, reflection on my motivations and musing on things I had read and found useful or provocative. It was well received, and I had many a flattering comment and mind-melting question from the brilliant and very generous audience of academics and activists. I stumbled my way through question time, and came out with much to consider in terms of where my research should be directed. Currently my thinking is that I need to read a LOT of work on body art and performance and see if I can angle my thesis in that general direction.

Then it was time to head off to do my Divine Bovine show at Hellfire. The visuals didn't work, the cling wrap didn't cling, and my left tit proved Mayhem's theory that it is indeed the shyer of my breasts by refusing to squirt milk AT ALL (just a mere dribble, even after heat packs and threats and grovelling, though was working fine the next day). But somehow it came together well in the end, and as my friend and collaborater Mimoiselle told me later 'Consensus says 10 out of 10 hot chicks agree your performance was awesome'. Certainly I seemed to get an incredible amount of feedback from the crowd afterwards, all of it positive. For those who didn't make it, or were so bewildered by it that you can't remember what happened, here is a brief run-down:

First song was Patti Smith's 'Summer Cannibals'. Came out dressed in black and white paper mache cow mask of my own making, blue/red/white striped butcher's apron, tail, half-white half-black wig with wired plaits. Walked through the crowd, then across stage on all fours, stood up on my back legs, danced about. Grabbed a meat cleaver, waved it around, threatened a sweet young audience plant with it and then lifted my apron to reveal cow-bells haging from my labia piercings and made her 'go down' on me. My cohort in crime, Hunter, resplendent in white shirt and half blue/white butcher's apron, chased me about the stage with a meat tenderiser and gave my arse a little pounding. I stripped off my apron to reveal that I was painted up like a side of beef with MEAT written on my left tit and CARCASS down my right thigh (thanks to Y for the artwork). Then I pulled on some black latex gloves, grabbed a scalpel and cut the word EAT across my stomach. Hunter tried to wrap me in cling wrap, but it was all too slippery and didn't work- but still got the point across I think? MeatZoo. Second song came on, The Cramps' 'Strychnine'. Ripped off cow mask to reveal face all drawn up like meat too, danced about, sprayed milk at the audience, on me, in my mouth, on glass window at back of stage, over Hunter, fed Hunter etc. To conclude the show I proceeded to grab three milk bottles, only half full, that said 'Have You Seen MooZoo? Call 1800-Divine-Bovine' on one side and 'Pick'/'Your'/Poison on the other. Downed the milk, dribbling it everywhere, pouring over myself etc. Last bottle ('Poison') was full of pinky-red milk which I tipped over my head. Still had a few seconds left of song so rubbed my wounds and milk all over Hunter's lovely white shirt.

Afterwards was a complete maniac, hyped up and bouncing about wildly from one person to the next, holding thoughts for approximately 5 seconds if I was lucky, babbling and generally acting scatty in post-performance-shock. When I was finally able to articulate my thoughts a little I remarked to NattieTheFlattie that I felt like I had been flayed alive. Totally vulnerable and exposed, emotionally, physically, mentally.

This is not academia, this is not performance. This is ZOO, me, with skin and mind and nipple leaking my secrets to the world.

Matching Wounds

'We were patient enough to count the hairs on each other's heads, too impatient to get undressed. Neither of us had the upper hand, we wore matching wounds. She was my twin and I lost her.'

-Jeanette Winterson
Written On The Body (162).

Yes, Madam Phantasm, I indeed reading this book at the moment. And I feel compelled to keep on quoting it as is so wonderfully written and often expresses my thoughts more eloquently and accurately than I can. It did occur to me that maybe I should offer some commentary on my selections however, although to most who know me and my tragic tales of love lost it should be pretty obvious why I have chosen particular passages. Take the above for example, which is quite clearly dedicated to the face I still see in my porridge and the body I still see in my bathtub.

FTM films at NewQ (near Black Rose) tonight 9pm

22 Enmore Rd Enmore, opposite Oportos chicken shop. Presumably just a gold coin donation or some such. From what I've heard of it there will be some utterly amazing work being screened. See you there!

Abstained

Today I caught myself wondering if abstinence was a virtue, a penance, or perhaps a sin in itself.

Knots

The interesting thing about a knot is its formal complexity. Even the simplest pedigree knot, the trefoil, with its three roughly symmetrical lobes, has mathematical as well as artistic beauty. For the religious, King Solomon's knot is said to embody the essence of all knowledge. For carpet makers and cloth weavers all over the world, the challenge of knots lies in the rules of its surprises. Knots can change but they must be well-behaved. An informal knot is a messy knot.

-Jeanette Winterson
'Written On The Body' (87-88)

Printing Blocks and Branding Irons

Articulacy of fingers, the language of the deaf and dumb, signing on the body body longing. Who taught you to write in the blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, reference me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message onto my skin, tap meaning nto my body. Your morse code interferes with my heart beat.

- Jeanette Winterson
'Written On The Body' (89)

HIV+ MIGRANT BAN PROTEST

Not sure who is organising this, just got it on an email list. Still, I like the idea so might toddle down if I can after the conference:

STOP the ban on HIV-positive migrants!
Protest by candlelight
Friday 20/4
6pmHyde Park War Memorial
For more info e-mail: stop.hiv.ban@gmail.com

The Slop-Bucket Of Romance

June. The wettest June on record. We made love every day. We were happy like colts, flagrant like rabbits, dove-innocent in our pursuit of pleasure. Neither of us thought about it and had no time to discuss it. The time we had we used. Those brief days and briefer hours were small offerings to a god who woul dnot be appeased by burning flesh. We consumed each other and went hungry again. There were patches of relief, moments of tranquility as still as an artificial lake, but always behind us the roaring tide. There are people who say that sex isn't important in a relationship. That friendship and getting along are what coast you through the years. No doubt this is a faithful testimony but is it a true one? I had come to this feeling myself. One does after years of playing the Lothario and seeing nothing but an empty bank account and a pile of yellowing love-notes like IOUs. I had done to death the candles and champagne, the roses, the dawn breakfasts, the transatlantic telephone calls and the impulsive plane rides. I had done all of that to escape the cocoa and hot water bottles. And I had done all of that because I thought the fiery furnace must be better than central heating. I suppose I couldn't admit that I was trapped in a cliche every bit as redundant as my parents' roses round the door. I was looking for the perfect coupling; the never-sleep non-stop mighty orgasm. Ecstasy without end. I was deep in the slop-bucket of romance. Sure, my bucket was a bit racier than most, I've always had a sports car, but you can't rev your way out of real life. That home girl gonna get you in the end. This is how it happened.

- Jeanette Winterson
'Written On The Body' (20-21)

Gender Blender

Are you a gender refusenik? Woman or Womon? Gendertrash? Girlfag? Mesbian? Splat? Lesbro? Sapiosexual? Yestergay? Dragzilla? Homovestite? Should I call you Mister-M'aam? Misster? Go to Yay Genderform! at Kreative Korporation to label yourself... It makes this up as a funky little label but when I put it on blogger it all goes pear-shaped so here's the plain text of mine:


Hello My name is Zoo

I am active, angel, artsy, bear, bear lover, bearded lady, bouncy, creature, cunt, dairy queen, demon, diva, do-me queen, dog lover, dragzilla, drama queen, eccentric, eclectic, esoteric, extrovert, FT?, feminist, femme-fucking, freak, gender blender, glittery, heteroclite, huggly, illusionist, interested, kinky, leather, low femme, Mx., metamorph, minx, mosaic, muff muncher, multifacetted, odd, passionate, pervert, polyflexible, polysexual, pre-op, queer, quirky, random, romantic, sadomasochist, sensitive, sexy, shapeshifter, she-bear, skank, slut, sparkly, trampy, trans-loving, transhuman, transspecies, wench

Blah

I just had a playdate cancel about two hours before we were supposed to meet, on the excuse that she was still in a scene with her Daddy. Blah. Might still toddle off to the pervy party anyway, and see what happens... Sometimes, though, it just all seems too complicated!

TB, HIV and the PM

The SMH reports the following nonsensical position taken by our PM:

'While saying he would like "more counsel" on the issue, Mr Howard said HIV positive people should not be allowed to migrate to Australia. "My initial reaction is no (they should not be allowed in)," he told Southern Cross Broadcasting."There may be some humanitarian considerations that could temper that in certain cases but prima facie - no."Mr Howard said Australia already stopped people with tuberculosis coming in and this was why he supported stopping HIV-positive people as well.'

Well, what's good for TB control is obviously good for HIV control, what with them being transmitted the same way and all. Of course, this controversy required an online poll- 'Call to ban HIVpositive migrants'- as to what SMH readers thought on the matter. At the time of writing this, 54% said they should be banned, 46% that they shouldn't. Horrifying. Vote now here.

Medicate Wildly

Was playing the clown for my little brother on Wednesday night, 'disappearing' under my hoodie and generally being very silly. Started dancing about with my head covered, couldn't see a thing, slipped on paper on the floor, fell back and smashed my lower spine against the base of the lounge suite and ended up badly bruised and bloody ouchy! On the upside though, sure my brother thought it was funny to see me jumping about grabbing my back... Ibuprofun, chinese herbs, hot water bottle, and hoping it will fix itself up sooner rather than later. BIG OUCH.

Oh, and my kidneys appear to be infected again too. Antibiotics, cranberry juice, lots of water, hippy herbs from the health food shop and hoping it gets better soon too. Taking so many pills at the moment that they rattle when I walk.

Vanessa Wagner's 2nd Newtown Film Festival

This began last night (when I was off watching Dogs In Space and drinking vodka), but goes for another month or so... It was much fun last year/time, so if anyone is planning to head down to watch, or is submitting something, let me know and I'll see you down there! Details from SameSame.com:

'Vanessa’s 2nd Newtown Film Festival starts at the Newtown Hotel from April 12 through to May 24. There’s $2000 up for grabs for the best short film, as well as other prizes for second and third place winners.And of course, Ben Drayton, Gemma and Seymour Butz will keep the tunes pumping all night long. Hot.

So if you’ve got a film – it doesn’t have to have been made specifically for this event, it can already exist – then what are you waiting for? If you want to see it up on Vanessa’s big screen then head to http://www.newtownhotel.com and chase down an application form. And the rest of you – come along to opening night April 12 – and get cultured.'

Self-Organising Men launch

From Gaylourdes:

'We're launching "Self-Organising Men", an international anthology of ftm transgender creative types (writers, artists, poets, performers)

Wednesday 18 April 2007

6-8pm (showtime 7pm!)

Black Rose Anarchist Bookstore

22 Enmore Road

(opposite Oportos)

There will be wine and cheese and nibbly things! We'll have readings from local and interstate contributors! and podcasts from overseas contributors! There will be swanky fundraising teatowels for sale! We'll even be selling copies of the book at a special booklaunch discounted price! And then we'll tool up to the sly fox for those of you who'd like to party on and launch the book all over again to the dulcet strains of Karli's genderbent clown performances! What an awesome night!'

Artfully Speaking

With Leather Pride week fast approaching, submissions are being sought for:

ARTSPACE 2007

'Calling all Tops, bottoms, switches, queers, bears,femmes, subs, slaves, perverts, deviates, furries, gimps, sissies, trannies, butches, bootpigs, sluts,sickos, ponygirls, ponyboys, puppies, crossdressers, exhibitionists, Masters, Mistresses and everything in between. Time to let it all out and put it on the wall. I want artwork dragged from the depths of your deepest and dirtiest soul. And then some.

Like last year, we’ll be using the wonderful space of the Aurora Gallery, 43 Bedford Street Newtown. The opening will be held on Monday the 7th May at 7pm, and the exhibition will run through until the Friday the 11th of May, doors open between 5-8pm.

For further information or to register please contact Leesa Morgan at curator_leather_pride@yahoo.com.au or call 0405193693.

We’ll need to know what kind of piece you’re submitting, dimensions, how it will be displayed etc and also price and a short bio. Photos would really be appreciated, and can be emailed, or sent via the mobile number. If not possible, a fairly precise description would do.

All submissions must be to the curator by the beginning of May, bio and specs by the 4th and artwork delivered to the venue on Saturday the 5th of May between 2-5pm, and be clearly labelled with title,price and artists name. They will be taken down 5pm Saturday the 12th of May, and put in storage for sales finalisation/collection the following week. There will be a $10 submission fee, per artist.'

and THE SPOKEN WORD NIGHT

Wednesday, 9 May, 2006
7.00pm onwards
Aurora Gallery GLCS 43 Bedford Street Newtown

Here is a brief description of the event provided by Ms F...

'The spoken word evening is performance, prose, poetry about bdsm
experiences, life, culture, feelings - things from your diary or yesterday
or things you desire. Serious, thoughtful, risque and comedic performance is
fine - the main idea is a forum to speak in. The theme is our /leather /bdsm
/fetish /top /bottom /switch etc community. Read your own work, or words from other people that inspire, delight or arouse you. If you are speaking from within or a voyeurs point of view that will be good to hear. It is a fairly casual night with wine and supper and some time to enjoy the art work as well.'

Look under the bed for your Muse, give her a quick dust off and a glass of
champagne and GET WRITING! And contact GrushenkaDoll via grushenkadoll@hotmail.com to participate.

The Revolution Is Just A T-Shirt Away

Apparently these t-shirts where spotted recently in New York... Brilliant!

1. (On an infant's shirt): Already smarter than Bush 2. 1/20/09: End of an Error 3. That's OK: I Wasn't Using My Civil Liberties Anyway 4. Let's Fix Democracy in This Country First 5. Bush. Like a Rock. Only Dumber 6. You Can't Be Pro-War And Pro-Life At The Same Time 7. If You Can Read This, You're Not Our President 8. Hey, Bush Supporters: Embarrassed Yet? 9. George Bush: Creating the Terrorists Our Kids Will Have to Fight 10. Impeachment: It's Not Just for Blowjobs Anymore 11. America : One Nation, Under Surveillance 12. They Call Him "W" So He Can Spell It 13. Which God Do You Kill For? 15. Who Would Jesus Torture? 16. No, Seriously, Why Did We Invade? 17. Bush: God's Way of Proving Intelligent Design is Full Of Crap 18. Bad President! No Banana 19. We Need a President Who's Fluent in At Least One Language 20. We're Making Enemies Faster Than We Can Kill Them 21. Rich Man's War, Poor Man's Blood 22. Is It Vietnam Yet? 23. Bush Doesn't Care About White People, Either 24. Where are We Going? And Why Are We in This Handbasket? 25. You Elected Him. You Deserve Him 26. Impeach Cheney First 27. Dubya, Your Dad Shoulda Pulled Out, Too 28. When Bush Took Office, Gas Was $1.46 29. The Republican Party: Our Bridge to the 11th Century 30. 2004: Embarrassed. 2005: Concerned. 2006: Terrified

So join the struggle while you may
The Revolution is just a t-shirt away

-Billy Bragg
'Waiting For The Great Leap Forward'

Zoo's A Lumberjack and Zie's Alright

Ever the one for dressups and role play, I managed to combine both Lumberjack and Lederhosen themes for the party at our place: packing, bound and bearded. After sitting spellbound at the woodchop at The Show, suddenly finding myself with an axe and a tree to fell... ahh, there are many fantasies to fulfil yet!

Somatechnics Conference Program

Can be found here . Abstracts to be posted on the site in the next couple of days. I'm on in session one, Friday 20th April. Guess I better get cracking on my paper then! Ahhhh! The terrors of academia!!!

Wombles, Worzel and The Famous Five

Some of my favourite memories from my formative years involve coming home from school in winter, when it was dark and grey and rainy and cold outside, and sitting in front of the heater watching children's TV shows on the ABC whilst feasting on toast dripping with peanut butter and cups of hot Milo. So, have decided to recreat some of this feeling with an afternoon of fantasy shows and adventure...

When:
Sunday, 29th April. From 2pm.

Where:
The House In The Hill

Featuring:
Worzel Gummidge, Captain Pugwash, The Famous Five, Catweazle (*fingers crossed*, I've yet to get my copy), The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, The Wombles, and whatever other old British kids series I can get my paws on by then. If anyone has The Goodies, Kenny Everett, Basil Brush or Tom Baker Dr Who's feel free to bring them along!

Bring:
* Your favourite childhood foodstuffs. We can make toasted sandwiches and fruit toast here, and hot chocolate is obligatory of course. It would also be good to have some party pies or sausage rolls (vegan/vegie, and dead things if you insist) with tomato sauce, and pikelets with jam and cream, and a selection of fairy bread and cupcakes etc. So bring along whatever nibblies make you feel like you are 8 years old again. And alcohol, if you were that type of child (or aspired to be).
* Cuddly items- blankies, cushions, comfy clothes, your snugglepartner, soft toys.
* Kids books if you want to do any readings- in the vein of Charlotte Sometimes, Tom's Midnight Garden, Narnia Chronicles, Alice In Wonderland, Enid Blyton...

Spurs and Two Up- Anzac at The Annandale

From the Annandale website:

SPURS FOR JESUS ANZAC DAY SPECTACULAR! + Handsome Young Strangers Annandale Hotel Cnr. Parramatta Rd & Nelson St Annandale Wednesday 25 Apr 2007

DOORS: Midday TICKET PRICE: $10 + b.f. / $10 @ door if available SPURS FOR JESUS Set 3: 6:15-7pm + Handsome Young Strangers 5:30-6pm SPURS FOR JESUS Set 2: 4:30-5:15pm + Handsome Young Strangers 3:45-4:15pm SPURS FOR JESUS Set 1: 2:45-3:30pm + Handsome Young Strangers 2-2:30pm 2-UP TOURNAMENT kicks off 1PM DON'T BE LATE - IT ALWAYS PACKS OUT!!!

No Business Like Show Business

Has been a busy enough long weekend, culminating in fireworks and Spurs for Jesus at The Easter Show. The hour is late, and I am too fuzzy from sugar/grease diet and over-excitement and walking around in circles all day with Madam Phantasm, revelling in the wonders of paper tole and quilling and leatherwork and tapestry, to concentrate much on further articulating the wonders of The Show, so will just post these pix for now. So here is a stunning sugar art cake creation (*swoon*), the Space Cowboy hanging two irons from hooks in his eyelids (*gasp*), and an inflatable cow (*heehee*).

Now Is The Season Of Our Flannelette

Flannelette is surely one of the most comforting of fabrics. Currently my mismatched pale pink flannie jimjams are warming in front of the bar heater in my room. Soon I will slip them on and snuggle up all cosy in with my hot water bottle (in its hot pink faux fur cover), nestled in baby pink flannie sheets. Then I will lie listening to the rain until I drift into sleep. Is almost womb-like really, the light from the heater lending the scene an otherwordly glow, like candles or a log fire...

Daresay I also have a bit of a soft-spot for blue (sometimes red) checked flannelette shirts, as worn by particular bois/boys/butches/bears. With sleeves ripped out, showcasing well-worked biceps. With sleeves intact, wrapped around me, making Zoo feel all safe and protected. Maybe its the Westie in me, or maybe its a latent lumberjack fetish? Whatever the original cause of this minor fixation, I know that being held tight by someone bigger or physically stronger than me, who happens to be wearing a flannie shirt, makes me want to fall asleep in their arms. Oh, and did I mention my reaction to 'b's' in blue stripey flannie 'old man' jammies? Melt! Puddle of Zoo!

EXTRA! EXTRA!

Has recently occurred to me, yet again, that I really should get myself on the books of some extras agencies. Head full of piercings, a few tattoos, usually funny hair, can provide a variety of outfits and accessories if required. If anyone out there in blogland has any experience with this kind of work, and can recommend some decent agencies (or has any other helpful hints) I'd be much obliged!

My New Hetero Identity

Henceforth, I shall be known as Heteroclite! As at dictionary.com, 3:

het·er·o·clite

–adjective Also, het·er·o·clit·ic het·er·o·clit·i·cal.

1.	irregular or abnormal; anomalous.

2.	Grammar. irregular in inflection; having inflected forms belonging to more than one class of stems.

–noun

3.	a person or thing that deviates from the ordinary rule or form.

4.	Grammar. a heteroclite word.

---

(Origin: 1570–80; <>heteroclitus <>heteróklitos, equiv. to hetero- hetero- + -klitos, verbid of klnein to bend, inflect]

Know Your Flow

In the spirt of all things Oestrus, check out Vinnie's Tampon Cases. No more sneaking your sanitary accessories into your pocket for those toilet trips at work, now you can be loud and proud and let the whole office know exactly what you are up!

An Ice Pick In Your Forehead

What can we ever really know about another person anyway!
They have their own needs and wants!
Their own passionate and perverse dreams!
Falling in love is like sticking an ice pick in your forehead ...
But we keep doing it!
We hurl ourselves into the cauldron of passion!
The bottomless pit of desire ...
- from "Simple Man" by Hal Hartly

Oestrus Happenings

Oestrus Bunnyskins, High Rabbitess of Menstrual Ritual and Ridiculousness, accompanied by WhoreBunny and delivering magic basket of chocolate Oestrus Vulvas, Eggs, Chickens and Rabbits, caused a moderate sensation and much merriment at The Sly last night. Cute shows, good company (though many of the 'usuals' absent), and too much beer left this little Zoo one bedraggled ball of fur this morning. Have just schlepped around the house all day, cooking and drinking tea and watching DVDs with LesBeanz, pretending to be hard at work on shows and my paper. Its 5pm, and I've done bugger all really. And so on to the long weekend...

Tonight I shall be at the Kooky reunion (Hermann's) for a bit. Tomorrow will begin with a bit of pottering about, then church (in Latin, at Lewisham) in the afternoon, and SLPA's Ascension party at Manacle after that. Saturday afternoon will be filled with rehearsals for upcoming silliness with Gaylourdes, and then maybe some cuddles with Hunter and Darkling. Sunday morning I shall be up bright and early and into my Bunnyskins for an Easter Egg hunt, then Gurlesque in the evening. And then on Monday I go with Whoretic and MadamPhantasm to the Royal Easter Show! Phew!

Passing Phase

From the SMH again:

'The "boyfriend" of a 14-year-old US girl, who lived with her and her family for more than a year, was actually a 30-year-old woman, police said. Lorelei Corpuz posed as a 17-year-old orphan to gain the family's trust, then beat and molested the teen, hitting her and twice biting her on the back, police in the Washington state city of Everett alleged. Corpuz was charged with two counts of third-degree child rape and one count of third-degree child molestation and was being held in lieu of $US150,000 ($A183,590) bail... Although Corpuz had sexual contact with the girl, "the suspect never let victim see her/his private parts and victim always thought that suspect was male until officer informed her otherwise," Officer Don de Nevens wrote in a police statement.'

BabyCage

The delightfully wrong Darkling sent this link to the Babycage, and I thought it was worth posting here to give Mummies, and Daddies, and Aunties and Nannies, some inspiration as to taming those naughty (adult) babies! Might have to ask them to custom make them though if you want bigger dimensions.

MySpace Cadet

I have finally succumbed to peer pressure and become a MySpace Cadet. You can find me at www.myspace.com/freelanceprovocateur. Its nothing very exciting at all at this stage: has no blog, not much personal info, and I haven't even filled in most of the 'fave TV show'-type sections. It does have a picture though, and at the time of writing, I have FOUR friends. And four damn sexy friends at that!

Creamy Goodness

The colder the weather, the darker the sky, the more I want to consume creamy things. In the last few days I have gorged myself silly on bowls of steamy creamy porridge with sultanas and brown sugar and milk, creamy barley soup full of dissolving soft vegies, and Whoretics creamy pumpkin risotto with shaved parmesan melting through it.

When I was in Sweden I became addicted to RissiFrutti, a deliciously creamy rice pudding affair. And nothing beats full milk creamy hot chocolate on a crisp winter's day, with a marshmallow oozing through it (best consumed at the mid-station of the Perisher quad chairlift, where you used to get one for $1 if you made it before 10am). Cream of asparagus soup, creamy mashed potato and parsnips with lashings of butter. And although not strictly creamy, I do have a strong urge for the texture of suet dumplings (preferably soaked in venison stew- vegaquarian who?). Mmmm... Its a starchy thing too perhaps? There used to be a brilliant Japanese restaurant in Neutral Bay, Shimbashi Soba, which not only made its own noodles on the premises and sold a wild variety of sakes and plum wines, but had the most curious (and wrong-sounding but astoundingly yummy), concoction of some strong spirit served alongside a piping hot teapot filled with the water they cooked the noodles in. You mixed the two of these liquids to conjure up a magical brew that warmed and intoxicated smoothly and slyly. Apparently it is astounding to some that any non-Japanese person should drink it, but I was addicted from the first sip.

Whoretic insists that I add vaginal juices to this assortment, so by all means I guess I really should add semen too, although the frothy connotations of this statement do make me gag a little. She also tells a rather sordid tale from long, long ago, involving a bioboy, an extravagent application of spermicidal jelly, and lots of in-out, with the result of the aforementioned prophylactic forming stiff egg-whitey peaks all over the bedlinen. Oh, and for reasons best known to herself, Whoretic also wants it mentioned that she is a great wife.

Piss De Resistance Now Recruiting

At long last, and with much prompting and hard work from NattieTheFlattie (who did the artwork, and printing to realise my absurd vision), the first batch of Piss De Resistance attire has been produced. Mostly patches at this stage, but now we have the screen and the paint we will be up for printing knickers, skirts, shirts, bandannas and whatever else you may desire. Black, white or yellow print. Have the logo pictured here (in two sizes), and the phrase 'LIBERATION THRU URINATION' available.

The wet dream for this project is to distribute these items to a worldwide posse of BeTwatted People (grrls, wimmin, ladeez, bois, tboys, whoever- only prerequisite in that you don't pee through a fleshwillie) who will hopefully wear them whilst being publically wet'n'wild (or at least provide promotion of such activities). And to take photos if possible, so that we might build up a 'zine or a website or a slide show or exhibition or whatever. Contact me or my homies if you be wanting any of the patches gratis, or have any items you would like us to print PDR style for you.

Lost Consonants

(Such a ridiculous flurry of blogging today, blame too much coffee and ginger beer and the fact that I just downloaded new pix from my camera, and haven't had enough time to blog all the random stuff I have been coming across lately. Heck, just skip the boring bits, or grab a ciggie and a stiff drink before settling down for the long haul!)

These scenes are from a book called Return of Lost Consonants, by Graham Rawle. I think it is hilarious, and very clever, but then I am an old word-nerd and would really wouldn't I? In case the images are a bit fuzzy: the one of the left reads 'He was acting strangely and she found him a little weir' and one on the right says 'Uncle Billy took the girls on all the unfair rides' (with the sign in the backround says 'ride in an old wheelbarrow 9 pounds for 30 seconds').

Blame It On The HOODIE

A friend brought this back from The Lexington Club in San Fran for me. I already have the cocktail mermaid print on a rather faded singlet from when I was there years ago, and now I have the hoodie to match... Happy Hoodie Zoo!

Quick, run for cover, she's ranting about lurve again

At the moment I am being very creative. Making shows, costumes, writing, photo shoots, planning trip OS, new projects and pursuits constantly underway. Reinventing, and rediscovering, The Zoo. Mixing with new people, finding new meanings and interactions with old friends. Spending lots of time enjoying my housemates, watching DVDs and eating popcorn while organising parties and outings. Its good, healthy, necessary.

Mostly I do this for myself, for my own peace of mind, for my own sanity. But sometimes I get to thinking 'this will make me a better partner, if I am not so distressed/moody/volatile/dependent/identity-disordered/fucked up. The ones that I loved would not have left me if I wasn't so deranged, so jealous, so needy'. And true as this may be, this thinking is potentially dangerous if I let myself get carried away with it. I cannot, or at least should not, do 'self-care' for other people! Ah, but The Zoo does get lonely sometimes, and craves a 'relationship', even when surrounded by people zie loves and busy with doing things zie loves...

Some days when I eat my porridge and drink my coffee in the morning I miss having that 'special someone/s' to share it with. I miss ROMANCE. I miss spending hours hunting for the perfect present for my beloved's birthday, hiding notes in their bag so they find them at work, making their favourite meal or bringing them cups of tea in bed, being excited as a puppy with a new chew toy when I pick up their scent across the room, sending silly text messages full of injokes that only we understand, borrowing their ugboots to go the corner shop for milk or slouching around the house in their too-big flannie jammies, the comfort of nookie with someone you know so well you don't have to ask questions. Safe, familiar, but still makes the heart beat faster.

Holzer, Holzer, Holzer

'SHE ACTS LIKE AN ANIMAL LEFT FOR COOKING'

Jenny Holzer
Untitled (da Lustmord)
1993-94

More fabulous Holzer words at SlateGallery. Such as:

'THE MEN COME.
I PUT MY MOUTH ON THEM.
I SPIT AND WRITE
WITH THE WET.
THE WET SAYS WHAT
MUST STOP AND
WHAT SHALL BEGIN.
I SPIT BECAUSE THE DEATH
SMELL IS TOO CLOSE TO ME.
THE STINK MAKES WORDS
TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT
WHO KILLS
AND WHO IS THE VICTIM.'

and

'THE BREAKDOWN COMES WHEN YOU STOP CONTROLLING YOURSELF AND WANT THE RELEASE OF A BLOODBATH.'

Get Dirty, Not Depressed

Yesterday's SMH informs us that 'Dirt could ease depression':

People who suffer from depression could benefit from getting dirty, according to new British research. A friendly bacteria found in soil has the same uplifting effects as those produced by anti-depressant drugs. Scientists say Mycobacterium vaccae stimulates the immune system and activates the brain to produce the mood enhancing chemical, seratonin. Dr Chris Lowry says, unless we all start playing in the dirt, researchers now need to find a way of getting the bacteria into people's systems. The study supports the "hygiene hypothesis" - which argues a rise in conditions like asthma and allergies is linked to a lack of exposure to various micro-organisms.The emphasis on cleaning and hygiene, particularly in urban Western environments, could be affecting people's immune systems, according to the theory.

Which, naturally enough, led me to start sing 'The Hippopotamus Song' (Flanders and Swann):

Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow in glorious mud

The last few days have left me a little dirty. Making chocolates, screenprinting PDR patches (explained in a forthcoming post), constructing and painting Oestrus Bunnyskins, sorting out musty old costumes and props, covering myself in mud mask, and now onto paper mache duties to bring forth the Divine Bovine. But it seems the researchers may be right, for in all this dirt I am not the least depressed!

Its Rabbit Season!

Rumour has it that Oestrus Bunnyskins, Rabbitess of Menstrual Ritual and Ridiculousness, may be hopping along to The Sly Fox this coming Wednesday Eve...

Fundamentally Married

Yeah, this does come from the SMH (March 21, 2007), but I like it anyway. 'There's a fundamental wrong in letting some people marry' argues Lisa Pryor:

'Let's not forget that we are not just talking about consenting adults. When you allow fundamentalists to marry it encourages them to have children. Sure, they might still have kids even if they cannot marry in the eyes of the law, but why legitimise it? Children are the true victims of fundamentalist marriages. Children don't get a say when they are born into a household practising a fundamentalist lifestyle. Tiny children should not be subjected to cultural experiments and social engineering. Imagine how confused and guilty children would feel when they were indoctrinated with the bizarre idea that they were born with the stain of original sin and were in fact so inherently bad that a man had to bleed to death to make it all OK... Before you know it, fundamentalist parents will be insisting preschool children read storybooks about the fundamentalist lifestyle in order to better understand it. There will be colouring books directed at four-year-olds showing Jesus turning water into wine and walking on water, as if it were gospel. What hope does a child indoctrinated with this sort of propaganda have of growing up to be normal? Can you really tell me they will not be more likely to grow up fundamentalist themselves?Before you accuse me of hate speech, I should point out that I bear no grudge against fundamentalists personally. "Love the fundamentalist, hate the fundamentalism" is my policy.''

Ginger Beers, Queers and Rears

Spent some of the afternoon at AuntyC's dunking ginger nut bikkies into milky ginger tea, then came home to sample some of NattieMyFlattie's most excellent alcoholic ginger brew. Little did I know that:

'In Cockney rhyming slang, ginger is a derogatory euphemism for homosexual. The original slang rhymed queer with ginger beer'. Or for the information of our pony pals, 'Before the First World War, it was common for mounted regiments to receive large vats of root ginger before public ceremonies, which were peeled and cut into suppositories for the horses. The burning sensation made the horses hold their tails up this is called Figging or feaguing' (Wiki).

Gasp! Does this mean
a) there is more than we imagined to Whoretic's childhood aspiration to be Ginger from Gilligan's Island? and/or
b) Ginger Meggs didn't really get his nickname from the colour of his hair but rather his anal exploits?