Red Moon Rising

Didn't end up at The Observatory the other night for the Lunar Eclipse, instead taking our champagne and cheese and bread up onto the hill in Sydney Park. A gaggle of freaks, families and familiars gathered to watch the show, cheering at each new stage of the eclipse, singing moon songs (blue moon, total eclipse of the heart, la luna, fly me to the moon etc- but how on earth did we forget MOONDANCE?), lolling about with dogs and kids and some folk in fine form even decided to moon the moon! It was a delightful night, a night to be shared, that mix of magic and awe and spectacle! I love being outdoors, in nature and all. On a hill watching the moon, on a boat watching the horizon shimmer, on the beach wrestling in the sand, on a wave trying to pick the right moment to go, lying flat out on a warm rock in the sunshine...

Heading to The Royal National Park tomorrow for a hike with the Likely Leeds Lad. Up before the sparrows are sneezing, train and ferry and bushbashing and hopefully even a swim! Can't wait to be smelling of the earth and the sea again, to come home baked in salt and dusted with sand.

BACK TO SKOOL

Yes Sir, today I am officially a stoodent again. To celebrate, I have worked all day at the Copy Centre and barely even thought about milky mammaries. However, I do have that top-of-the-rollorcoaster feeling about studying again, scared and excited and heart racing and stomach churning and... just got to go with it!

The Art Of Parties

'I turned to face this saving grace girl. And, damn, one look at her and I knew. It was her. She was the One. As I stood there staring and wondering how I could get her to be mine forever and ever and then some, she laughed the most wonderfully insane laugh and socked Mr. Party Host in the arm- hard, too hard- as if he were in on the joke. I smelled her breath as she laughed. Bergamot and peppermint and just a hint of expensive vodka. She had on this wrinkled vintage Ginger Rogers copper-orange ballroom gown, teetering faux-leopard open-to platform heels, and a rust-colored rabbit fur jacket- an outfit that would have looked like costumed ridiculousness on anybody else, but on her was just right. Her flyaway auburn hair was a tangled mess of a Varga girl updo. Her perfume was incredibly sweet, almost too sweet, like rice milk about to turn. Sorry for the hokey factor, but seriously, that was it; I was done for.

And from that moment forward, everyone else at the party hated us because it was obvious that we were so goddamned perfect- at least together. So they despised us. But they stayed near us. To watch. And listen.'

- Felicia Luna Lemus
'Like Son'

Oh dear, its like when I first obsessed about Zoo Music Girl. Don't know whether I want to be her or have her. Both? Or maybe neither, and the longing is for some other thing entirely...

Zooman Fly

Thanks to the good folk at Hellfire for pix and DVD of my Fly show. Not exactly flattering, but art is not always about looking pretty I guess!

Too Silly To Resist Posting

The Sprinkle Brigade.These people make public footpath art out of dog poop. This one is titled 'Mardi Gras'.

Total Eclipse Of The Moon

Following on from the Big Dags post- seems that a whole pile of us are going to The Observatory tomorrow night to hang out and watch the Lunar Eclipse. We'll be meeting at 7pm at Newtown Station...

http://www.sydneyobservatory.com.au/events/whatson.asp

"Total eclipse of the Moon, 6 to 11pm, Tuesday 28 August 2007. How do you know the Earth is round? One way is to look at the Earth's shadow as it drifts across the Moon during an eclipse. Enjoy this beautiful sight by dropping in anytime from 6pm. The Moon will be fully eclipsed from 7:52 to 9:23pm. Hear how the Moon affects tides. Does it affect our mood? Did it play a part in the evolution of mankind? These plus many more questions will be addressed in this
family-oriented night.Jazz trio, Music with Panache, will provide the music so why not bring
a blanket and a picnic hamper and enjoy one of the greatest shows on Earth?Café Express will be on site for coffee, tea, hot chocolate and cakes too!

Cost: $15 adults, $12 conc, $10 child, $45 family Members: $12 adults, $10 conc, $8 child, $34 family. No need to book."

Big Dags

ButchBitch mentioned the other day that she had flannie sheets on her bed, and was wondering how that would make her look if she picked up trade and brought them back home. Now, this is something that would never occur to me, either as guest or host. If it was the height of summer I might find it a little odd, but, even with my slight flannie fetish* aside, if we'd just crawled home in the cold rain I would be more than excited to be greeted by a warm fluffy bed. And anyone who complained would be thrust out into the street without their hot cocoa!

Then yesterday a conversation came up about dagginess, and it occurred to me that most of the people I love and care for are Big Dags really. Reading French philosophy on their flannie sheets, knitting in front of their favourite ABC shows, working 9-5 normal-people jobs, organising reading groups, tending their vegie patches, watching footy, baking cupcakes, buying their shampoo from the supermarket and their wifebeaters from Kmart. I don't have any too-cool-for-school friends. Sure, we make amazing art and give amazing performances and have amazing conversations and even more amazing sex, and cook amazing food and create amazing activism... but at the end of the day we often do it in our Uggies. And I like that. A lot.

* Would rather flannie sheets than silk sheets any day. Actually, same goes for shirts!

Drunken Shenanigans

I really do appreciate
The fact you're sitting here
Your voice sounds so wonderful
But your face don't look too clear
So barmaid, bring a pitcher
Another round of brew
Honey, why don't we get drunk
And screw?

- Jimmy Buffett
'Why Don't We Get Drunk?'

I have given up The Drunk And Disorderly Shag for the time being. I don't want to shag people who will only shag me if they are munted. I don't want to shag people I will only shag if I am munted. And even if they are people I would shag sober, I would rather I actually DID shag them sober!

Weekend, And More Weekend

Started Saturday morning with a nice cold beer at The Sly, where I met Mr Red Shoes so that we may go shopping. Mission: to find him a girly, but not too girly, outfit to wear to a boys-as-girls party in a few weeks. 'No!'' he says, 'I don't want to look like a drag queen!'. Then the first think he tries on, and buys, is a red sequinned dress. And net gloves. Then we get a latte and he gets all bored with shopping and buggers off. Whatever am I supposed to do with that? I figure he's destined for false eyelashes and feathers whether he likes it or not... Then met up with the Lovely Leeds Lad to teach him a thing or two about Rugby League and KB Beer. Hooked up with TCM, MFM, UM and others at Henson Park, and spent a pleasant hour or two in the sunshine, chatting and sinking tinnies and watching the Jets lose again *boo! hiss!*. TCM was having a BBQ at his place, sow e all toddled over there for snags and salad and MUCH more beer and silliness, marshmallows over the Weber and throwing slobbery balls to the HyperHounds. Nice end to a nice day, though I did get rather munted. In a nice way, of course. Just silly and floppy and ended up crashing on Beculum's sofa bed.

Sunday brought the 50s Fair at Rose Seidler House, accompanied by My Fave Mermaid and Unca M. Sunny day, lots of stalls selling clothes and bric-a-brac and bands and swing dancers and a rather dodgy crooner and a puppet show and lots of folk dressed right up for best dressed competition and hot rods and quiffs and bouffants and a friend's 7 year old blowing bubbles over us all and me stuffed full of quiche and chocolate gelato. Perfect!

If The Shoe Fits

I bought my first pair of Blundstones the other week, without even trying them as they were going for a song and looked liked they'd probably fit me. It turns out they're about half a size too big, a fact which could easily be addressed with a pair of inner soles. But there is something deliciously childish about schlepping about in too-big shoes, a cross between playing dressups in your Dad's slippers and acting the clown, an increased danger of tripping over your own feet and a different strut to your stuff. Blokey boots waiting for me to grow into them...

Missionary Position

Some people are so wrapped in what they do or who they are that they push their identity and lifestyle choices onto other people. I think its NICE for you that you are macrobiotic or born-again Jesus-lovin' or do yoga three times a day or only consume gluten-free vegan protein shakes or sleep on a wooden board or swear by cold showers or get through the day on four hours sleep and a couple of lines for breakfast. Yay! Good for you! If being a nun or a whore or an accountant or a yabbie farmer or a fire twirler is what makes you smile and gives you purpose then I am happy that you have found your calling. But it doesn't mean its mine, or that I am somehow defective or to be pitied for not treading the same path as you. The fact that I don't want to turn tricks or crunch numbers or exist solely on plant matter or worship a patriarchal and homphobic God does not mean that I am doomed or repressed. Really.

And I am never quite sure whether missionaries are trying to save me or themselves? It may be an honest attempt at shining a light so that lost souls may find their way, or it may just be that some people are so afraid of their own journey that they want to drag everyone else along with them.

Friends Of Dorothy

Heehee! This is the delightful Ali and I at Dorothy's Dance Camp last week- and quite early in the night it was too...

Aeolian Sharp

'Sydney based multimedia artist & harper Graham Crawford. It is for friends of the graphic novel series Aeolian Sharp, an anime sci fi series about an A.I. harp.'

Graham, aka my friend The Harp Elf, has created an amazing extravaganza of scifi graphic thinginess that I don't understand in the slightest really but find awfully impressive anyway. Sure some of you cyber geeky freaks will comprehend it more than I do! He has explained it to me countless times, but I'm still down to 'oooh, pretties'... Here is The Song and The Aeolian Sharp site itself. Remember,evolution has a soundtrack...

Dates For Your Diary

Up and coming fun:

Wednesday 22nd August- Big trashypants dressups night at Slox. One friend heading OS, one friend up from Melbourne. Time to get silly!
Saturday 25th August- Jets Reunion Game at Henson Park
Sunday 26th August- 50s Fair at Rose Seidler House
Saturday September 1st- Blue Moon Festival

That's the first handful that came to mind. Oooh, so much mischief to be had!

Stinking Hearts

Puppy me, I was loathe to lose Nathalie's scent, her muddy hair and the bitter grapes behind her ears, the tart fresh-cut cactus taste she left on my hands.

- Felicia Luna Lemus
'Like Son' (152)

It seems to be that when I am lactating I become more accutely alert to scents. Everything is heady and thick, the sickly sweet deodorants signalling the first sign of spring and the adolescent aftershaves of first year undergraduates. I can sniff out the diets of fellow commuters on my morning train, detect the contents ofplastic grocery bags and crumpled trousers. Its a state I associate with pregnancy, a hyper-sensitivity, the regular fragrances of life suddenly making the expectant one gag and swoon.

I'd been staring at Nathalie for who knows how many minutes. That girl got me directly in the chest. Ribs simply shouldn't be cracked open and seperated by a layperson. Cardiac Matter shouldn't be touched but in the most pristine environments. Even then, complications are likely to occur.

- Felicia Luna Lemus
'Like Son' (153)

Yes, I have just read Like Son, yes, I loved it and yes, I'll probably post more quotes here for you to savour. I like the way Lemus writes. No comment on the heart quote, except to note that the medical tone of it makes me a bit squishy in the pants...

Zoo Fly

To cut a long story short: Huge show planned for Hellfire. Branding, piercings, cheekhooks- very exciting and BIG. At the last minute the boys from Modified Souls pulled out, leaving me with exactly 12 hours to create a show from scratch, make costumes, buy props and rehearse and... I did panic a bit, I must confess. But not too much and not for too long- within an hour I had organised a piercer and was at Bargain Home searching for plastic flys and feathers.

Song One, Human Fly by the Cramps. Come on in jeans, boots, black leather fingerless gloves, big long velvet cloak, fly mask with google eyes all over it. Strutted about with flyswats and flyspray, ake off coat to reveal black feather wings pinned into back, take off mask to show flies pierced into forehead. Second Song, Wings Off Flies by Nick Cave. Rip up bunch of flowers, swing red wine-jelly from bottle and spit into audience. Pierce tits with birthday candle needles, light, get audience member to blow out. Pull furry foam-cored sider out of jeans, pull out needles, stick into spider, 'she loves me, she loves me not'. Not hugely polished, or particularly hardcore (lots of blood though) but seemed to go down well enough. And gave me suhc a HUGE rush! For some reason the head piercings sent me absolutely flying, it was like taking ten lines of something fast and then having an espresso, just ran around totally hyped up and babbling and dancing, totally manic and doing laps of the club until it closed. Then went on drinking more. Woke up barely able to move. Always thought that 'dancing your arse off' was just an expression, but really, my arse is SORE. How hard can I possibly have been shaking my booty????

King Ink

'Razzle-dazzle. Nathalie. Nahui. Razzle-dazzle girls. Somehow I was certain that Nahui would have loved it if someone got a tattoo for her. Hell. she'd have given her admirer the tattoo herself. And afterward she would have reveled in licking off the blood pillled on the surface of her love's inflamed hot flesh. Tongue stained inky blue, she would have been a beautifully grotesque realization of the saying, I'll eat you alive.'

- Felicia Luna Lemus
'Like Son'

Spent a floppy hangover afternoon yesterday in my favourite tattoo parlour with a sweet friend, watching her get a large dose of fresh ink across her back and reading this book. When it was finished the excess colour glistened on her skin and I commented to her girlfriend that I always had an urge in these situations to lick the new artwork dry. This led her to some tangent about suicide by drinking ink, which seemed to me a rather romantic way to go. Then today I was watching ABC and a dance piece called Cursive II came on, and the choreographer (?) was talking about the performers movements in terms of script, and how there were 5 shades of black ink. Cixous' 'milky taste of ink'. The Birthday Party's Kink Ink:

'King Ink strolls into town
He sniffs around
King Ink kicks off his stink-boot
Sand and soot and dust and dirt and
He's much bigger than you think
King Ink'

Conversation With A Very Nice Man

Much to write about on a rainy floppy Sunday- has been such a busy few weeks that I have barely had time to post... but now I am sitting here with the heater on and some contemporary dance show on TV and toasties and tea and the housemates all out. Bliss!

Was talking to a very nice man last night at Dorothy's Dance Camp. Mentioned to him that since I have been single and actually stopped fretting about the fact a number of my friend's seem rather concerned about my love life, with heaps of concerned questions about who I am seeing or shagging and whether I am cruising anyone and comments on how odd it is for me to be out and about 'with my blinkers on' and not chasing anyone or even noticing when I am being chased most of the time. And whilst I appreciate their concern it often feels like those questions you get from relatives who are trying to work out if you have any intention of ever settling down. Said this to the very nice man and he suggested that sometimes out friends behaved even more conservatively than our families. I suspect he is right. There is from some quarters a strong pressure to be hooked up with someone, somehow, for some period of time, whether it be a quick shag in the toilets or a drunken liason in an alleyway or a wildly passionate affair that leaves you breathless for weeks and traumatised for months. Does't seem to matter what it is so long as it is something. It is expected that you want to want.

But somehow I don't want that much at the moment. Rolling around with Rollmop was very pleasant, and the other odd moments of snogging and snuggling which come my way from time to time have been rather nice too. Its more that I don't feel a need to seek it, don't feel much desire to flirt (with anything I could possibly catch anyway). When I go out dancing I want to DANCE for the sake of it, not as some sort of mating ritual where I must be constantly checking that my tits are arranged nicely and keeping an eye on who is watching me and making sure to appear vivacious and appealing at every moment just in case I'm in the line of vision of my next pair of damp knickers.

Sometimes I miss cuddles, massages and being held while I sleep. But I have friends I can call on for hugs or neckrubs, and sleepover buddies with whom to spoon and slumber. I have boys who will pin my arms behind my back on the dancefloor, and who will recieve my milk as if it were manna from heaven. I have what I need to get by on this level, and this gives me time to do the healing and the processing and the work and the art that I need to do to be happy and safe and satisfied.

The next thing that came up in converstaion with the very nice man was a question: 'what', he asked me, 'do you think will be different the next time you do become entangled with someone?'. This was harder to answer than I initially thought. Sure, I have changed a lot in the last few months, but how will this alter my relationships? Hmmm. The only thing I could come up with is that I no longer view my potential 'other half' quite so literally. I would not expect the person or persons to complete me. Compliment hopefully, but not complete. I am whole, self-contained, I am enough (some would say more than enough). Not that I don't need anyone, of course I do. I would be lost without my family and my mates. More that I don't need to merge with a significant other in order to have a full identity. Oh, and maybe I won't rely so much on this person/s for validation, to only know my own worth by the tickets they put on me.

So, to those concerned Guardians of The Someones and Somethings: Of course I still want the gigglypants romance at some stage in the future, the palpitations when you catch the scent of their aftershave or their dirty laundry, the nervous fumblings and the complete inability to think of anything but licking the hair on the back of their neck or the sound of their breath when they're about to..., the shared bottles of cheap bubbly or longnecks of Coopers and the joyous singing along to every silly lovesong you hear on the radio and the constant dampness of palms and pink bits. And when I see my mates with their partners, not their shags or their girlfriends but their life partner-types, I do get a pang of longing for someone to make plans and buy furniture with, to hold dinner parties and walk the dogs with. I want it all, and I want it a lot. I just don't want it right now.

HOUSEMATE NEEDED ASAP

We need a new housemate, NOW! Smallish room, $80 per week in the Hill of Summer, living with four fairly eccentric omnivourous maidens. Pets, smokers, freaks okay (within reason) just need to be able topay rent and not trash the joint- no ice queens though. Any questions or takers? Email me...

Bittersweet Morsels

One perfect day
I'll get your telegram
And you'll be calling me, oh oh
This perfect day
I can't stop thinking
'Are you over there
Are you happy there?'
And tell me
If its still raining there in England...

- Little Heroes
'One Perfect Day'

This was playing on the radio at work today, and I remembered being on the bus a while back when this 'crazy' woman singing along to this really loudly. It made her, and me, so happy! But its such a bittersweet song when it comes down to it, which us probably why it made me smile so much today. I've been lucky to have so many sweet encounters of late, fleeting flirtations and stolen kisses and winks from the past and glimpses of possible futures. Ghosts playing show and tell with small snippets of my history, sending me postcards from the land of my father and the lands of my heart and playing hide and seek with premonitions of happinesses and further frolics. Current mood: Nostalgic, and optomistic.

Swede Dreams Are Made Of This

'I think its dark, and it looks like rain' you said
'And the wind is blowing, like its the end of the world' you said
'And its so cold, its like the cold if you were dead'
And you smiled for a second

Sometimes you make me feel
Like I'm living at the end of the world
'Its just the way I smile' you said

- The Cure
'Plainsong'

After a warm and sunny weekend the sky clouded over this afternoon and the breeze cut through my clothes and made me shiver. When I walked home at 5:30 it was 11 degrees and even with the heater on and some peanut butter toast in me I'm struggling to get warm. Rollmop left for Stockholm today and after she called me from the airport to say goodbye I was strangely melancholy all afternoon. And craving herring. Anyone for a trip to the Gourmet Viking restaurant before it gets all warm again? Not the vegans or vegos though- doubt there's a single thing on the menu that doesn't include some sort of animal, or several. Pickled fish! I need pickled fish!

Passports, Persecution And A Petition

norrie mAy-welby wrote:

Tranys need the right to safe passage too! It's not safe for anyone to travel with a passport that says they're a bloke when they've got boobs, and have been passing as female for many years, in the case of pretty young pre-op transsexual girls wanting to travel to Thailand for a permanent tuckjob. But Howard's goverment is getting ever more belligerent in its prosecution of the class war on queers, and has now decided to force us to travel as the wrong gender as assigned at birth.

Please sign the web petition at www.petitiononline.com/sagepass/petition.html. More background info from SAGE, SX, and a blogger who compiled the following: http://aebrain.blogspot.com/

And I totally agree. So sign the petition, pass the details onto your lists and friends and tell Howard what you think of his transphobic attack.

Pencil Thin Moustache

I wish I had a pencil thin moustache
The Boston Blackie kind
A two-toned Rikcy Ricardo jacket
And an autographed picture of Andy Devine

- Jimmy Buffett
'Pencil Thin Moustache'

Dazza got talking the other night to this foreign fella who wants to root his cousin, and has been singing Jimmy Buffett ever since. And making lots of eyeliner facial hair. I think he's turning into some kind of poofter.

A Loooooong Weekend

Today was same sex marriage NDA, marched with Serious and Doctor Boo and DreadfullGirl and a whole pack of other freaks, dressed in suit pants and bow tie and top hat and a 'Johnny f%^cked me and now he won't marry me' banner. Lots of dancing and chanting and chatting, a couple of beers and so nice to be out in the sunshine.

Last night Princess had birthday drinks at Kuletos/The Newtown, which was a messy silly night with lots of cuddles and giggles to be had. Met a fabulous girl who got me all excited about nerdy academia again and seems like she could be much fun to hang out and chat with in the future. Before that had been at Sly with Serious, Boo, My Fave Mermaid, Unca M, Mazzy, SauerKraut, This Charming Man and The Quiff, working on a new project (that is all hush-hush for now). And earlier that arvo had been watching The Jets WIN at Henson Park, with TCM and Beculum, MFM, UM and a few others, plus the HyperHounds. Tinnie of KB, sausage sanger dripping with onion and sauce, sitting on the hill basking in the sunshine. Love it!

Friday night was RollMops' farewell before she leaves for Stockholm, and she'd requested that Shazza and Dazza make an appearance. So they did. Schapylle was as sexy a Scragg as ever, newly tanned and in a gold bikini underneath her denim skirt (you can see the effect she had on RollMop in the photo) and Darryll was a total spunkrat who had all the men's men chasing after him of course. Black jeans neatly showcasing his bulging blokehood, impeccable pecs underneath his Hellfire shirt with the topless chicks on it, red flannie, his best teeth and his new workboots. He had plenty of fun, and a bit of luck even, cruising The Newtown (at one point almost being the double adaptor between an 'Azza' and a 'Gazza'), and watching Shazza dancing like a fag hag who'd had too many Bundy and Cokes, before the pub closed and he and RM decided to head to a play party around the corner. Don't know that the kink world is on the whole ready for mullets and Blunnies, even if Dazza can't understand folk disrespecting his flannelette fetish. He did get a bit of dirty action in a dark corner, but even though he was a bit munted he remembered to get off at Redfern so should be safe from making any mini-Dazza's and so Shazza'll never find out about it. Besides the chick he was rooting was a lezzo and everyone knows that Howard told us they can't have babies anyway.

Other than that- Thursday went to the strip show at The Newtown, which turned out to be a truly fabulous schmoozing and croozing night. So many beautiful creative types, some old faves and new blood, lots of talk about projects past and future adventures, swapping email adresses and information and ideas. I love my bearded boys! Hmmm... Have almost worked out all the details for the HF show on Friday, and seems that my milk is beginning to come in a little bit more. Have a couple of ideas for the abstract I need to write for the other Salzburg conference I want to go to. Ahh, feeling quite inspired but still so much to be done!

Nothing Pleases Like...

There's not a lot of television advertising that I really enjoy, but from time to time one tickles my fancy and the latest ad for Maltesers does just that. Very very pregnant woman, sitting on the couch with a friend and putting Maltesers on her tummy so that the baby can kick them off. SILLY!

The Need For Swede

Herring, meatballs, glogg and IKEA. Oh, and dirty dirty dirty sex. I miss Scandinavia, and certain Scandinavians!

Woof! Its The Nocturnal Rangers!

This next Bad Dog on the night after Sleaze. Hmmm... Someone remind me to take the next few days off work after this!

White Tears

Woke up this morning with a microdyke in my bed (not like THAT, promise) and the stirring of a hangover and the horrible realisation that I had to be at work in about half and hour. Arrgh! Microdyke left, I tried to make coffee but we had no soy milk, and no butter to put on my toast, and so I had some quick Hitachi fun to wake myself up and crawled to the bus stop looking like death with no makeup and bloodshot eyes and starving hungry and seriously lacking in caffeine.Turned up to work an hour and a half late shaky and clutching a double shot soy latte with two sugars from the new cafe on the corner. I swear, sometimes I feel just like a baby sucking on a tit when I wrap my lips around the plastic lid and fill my mouth with frothy warm milk- VERY satisfying!

Started crying on my way to the shop, and had to hide out the back and look for sympathy from my workmates for half an hour before I could face doing any real work. Couldn't work out why, was just SAD. Everything black and weird. Thought maybe was simply exhaustion and hangover and latent grief combined, but when the fog cleared later a few things occurred to me. 'Close to the water' Zoo+ breaking out adolescent skin Zoo+lumpish strangely bloated Zoo+ horny all the time Zoo might just = LACTATING HORMONALLY HAYWIRE ZOO. Tits are achy, and hurt when I pump, a real ready-to-burst feeling, but frustrating as hardly any liquid to show for it yet. Hopefully it will come soon, its like waiting for blood or orgasms or ... 'It's torture, but I'm almost there' (The Cure).

Pop Your Cherrie Pie

More from Mz Fox:

'First off thank you all for the very positive response to the newlesbian/queer girl magazine, Cherrie!Contributors are coming on board nicely, and now that we've fleshed things out a bit, I'm looking for the following specific things, for the launch issue and beyond:Opinion pieces. 500 words on any topic you like – can be GLBTQ related or totally unrelated. It can be fun and frivolous or a full-on rant,as long as it's opinionated and something you feel strongly/passionately about. Payment for those published, plus a 2-line bio including links to any blogs/live journals you have and pic of you.Also, for the creative among you: Erotic stories– email me for details.Email mailto:editorcherrie@e-p.com.au

So, there you go. What further enticement do you need?

The Finest Cuts

Working at Uni selling the course readers is not exactly a dangerous occupation most of the time. The odd strain from lifting big bulging boxes of books, the odd stubbing of toe on cabinet corners (steel caps are invaluable!). But the paper cuts! I look like I've been possessed by a violent fit of Emo- small scracthes all over my hands and wrists, with a few choice big slices across my inner forearms. Pwetty...

Sleazy Zoo

The ticket is booked. The glitter and feathers and liquid latex and pre-parties are under construction. Hmmm... think it will be one deliciously sparkly, slinky, sleazy, sweaty, sloppy, stinky, slutty shagfest...

Wand Of Wonder

Last night I
a) Bought a Hitachi and
b) Played with new Hitachi (and an extremely-rude-in-a-good-way butch)
c) Decided it should be called the HeeHeetachi 'cos that is one of the first sounds I made when I used it. VERY giggly! Just about dissolved into a puddle, which may be slighlty dangerous given the fact that it is powered from the wall and therefore probably capable of giving one quite a shock. Actually, there's possibly some sort of fun in that *g*! Just need a perverted sparky techy person to do a bit of work on it...

More on this topic later perhaps. I will say that finding someone who instinctively spits on me, spanks me, fists me, calls me a slut, licks my sweat, controls my breath and pins me down, all in a totally consensual way of course, is always a pleasure (and most often a suprise). Can barely walk, but there's a certain pleasure in some sorts of temporary injury. Woohoo!

Pervy Old Zoo

'Hey boys let's mess around
I wanna party with you on the town
Some boys really make me swing
There ain't nothin' like a pretty young thing


Young boys are my weakness
I just like their sweetness
Pretty young thing what ya gonna do?
I just wanna get me hands on YOU'

- Kate Cebrano
'Young Boys Are My Weakness'

At the risk of sounding like a latter-day Germaine Greer, or at least a mid-90s (?)Kate Cebrano, this young boy just walked past me at Uni and gave me THAT look and it was all I could do to stop myself from tripping over my own feet. There is something about being in my camos and boots and have a perfectly clippered rascal cruise me so obviously that makes me lose my senses...

'Then this young kinda guy walked right on by me
He couldn't have been more than 16
It's just nothing I can do you gotta understand
You see, he had this walk
I mean, down pat and
No he wasn't going my direction so I just kinda turned an eye
I had to I was really possessed
I mean, I wasn't myself'

- Lydia Lunch
'Lady Scarface'

Dorothy's Dance Camp

This is the night after Hellfire, so come and watch Zoo dance her newly branded butt off! August 18th at Gilligan's... and big thanks to Gaylourdes for passing this on to me.

Slit Wide Open

At work there is a silver-coloured letter opener shaped like a gun, with ornate handle and long sharp barrel. It makes me very happy to slit open fresh boxes of books with it, slicing through plastic and cardboard and tape to reveal newly printed and bound virgin tomes. Sigh, its really the simple things that make life delicious!

Blood And Fire

Like all his books and his notes.
All the junk that he wrote
The whole fucken lot right up in smoke
Aint there nuthin sacred anymore

- Nick Cave
'Box For Black Paul'

Last night I witnessed a friend burn her marriage in a brazier- wedding hat, wills, blood, hair, vulva and all- and helped finish the blaze by pissing on it. Soon I will shedding blood and branded again. Fire purifies.

ZIRKUS

Sleaze Ball 2007 presents Zirkus. Our most spectacular party yet and ticketsare now on sale. While this crazy, crazy world falls apart around us, there isonly one possible rational response - run away to the Zirkus.From the traditional to the twisted - you will find ringmasters,clowns, lions with their tamers, contortionists, strongmen,bearded ladies, naked ladies, bearded naked ladies. You know the score - the woodwork squeaks and out come thefreaks! Mix them all in with the heady atmosphere of WeimarBerlin and you have a uniquely Sleaze experience. Decadencewithout limitation and uncompromising sensuality oozing fromevery beautiful pore. You will be kept dancing till dawn by some of Australia's verybest DJs: Rob Davis, Feisty, Jayson Forbes, Kitty Glitter, TimGraham, Murray Hood, GI Jode, Kate Monroe, Dan Murphy, Neroli,Pete Newton, Justin Scott, Steve Sonius and Alex Taylor.

Our core theme is circus. Zirkus is simply circus in German. So think traditional circus icons – ringmaster, clowns, lions and their tamers, contortionists, human cannonballs, strongmen, bearded ladies, and so forth. Or create your own freaks of nature. Maybe you are the feathered Bird Girl of Marrickville? Or the enormously endowed Elephant Trunk of East Sydney? Whatever your bizarre mutation, we welcome you with open arms. Zirkus made us think of Cabaret and Berlin in the 20s. Bowler hats, huge eyelashes and fishnets for the girls. Top hats, monocles and fishnets for the boys. In fact anything German does it for us this year. Pretzels, ledershosen and big jugs will guarantee you are a huge hit. Burlesque will always work well. Feathers, nipple tassles, crops and other props. Colours? Well black is the colour of Sleaze, but this year we’re going to be mixing it up with some really neon pinks, greens, blues, etc. Think kindergarten gothic punk. Punk is very Zirkus. Being Sleaze Ball you can’t go wrong with leather, rubber and PVC. Flesh is also one of our favourite materials. And finally… don’t forget those fishnets.

Yes, we have a limited first round of tickets on offer at $$55for New Mardi Gras members and $$79 for non-members. Don't waitaround long as we expect them to go very quickly. You can buy your ticket online at Ticketek[http://premier.ticketek.com.au/shows/show.aspx?sh=SLEAZEBA07] orby calling 13 2849 or at any Ticketek outlet.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh.... I'm not normally a huge Sleaze fan, but may make an exception for this! Anyone else up for it?