It's my own personal Tipping Point! This year has been something else, and we could all use bit of a catharsis.
My little project is just for my family and best friends... something to stuff in their stocking. But this time, I realized that I could show you my soundtrack on iTunes, so you can listen to my album yourself. When you click on the link, it takes you to the playlist on iTunes, and they let you listen to a sample of each track.
Sept Ans Sur Mer Elta, Mary, & Ella Hoffpauir When the Levee Breaks A Perfect Circle Wasted Days and Wasted Nights Texas Tornados Gone Pecan Sonny Landreth Oh Death The Pine Valley Cosmonauts & Diane Izzo Black Minute Waltz James Booker The Levee Jonny Lang A Change Is Gonna Come Otis Redding Riding to New Orleans Andi Hoffmann & B-Goes Mama, You've Been On My Mind Peter Mulvey When the Levee Breaks Robert Plant & The Strange Sensation Buck's Nouvelle Jolie Blon Buckwheat Zydeco Wade in the Water Ellen McIlwaine When a Cajun Man Gets the Blues Tab Benoit
A Change Is Gonna Come
I was born by the river In a little tent
Oh, and just like the river I've been running ever since
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come Oh yes it will
It's been too hard living But I'm afraid to die
Cause I don't know what's up there beyond the sky
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Then I go to my brother
And I say brother, help me please
But he winds up knockin' me
Back down on my knees
There been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come Yes it will
I don't know who took this photo; it's from New Orleans/Katrina.Let me know if you recognize the artist!
I don't know why I've hidden this for so long... but with the nights getting longer, I feel confessional.
I'm a surf-porn aficionado. Yes, I'm talking about those movies with the soul-crashing waves and those beautiful men... sometimes women. It's a vicarious thrill that few can match. And yes, I have the choice stuff.
First of all, you should understand that I don't surf. I'm a surf widow, in fact. So when I tell you these movies are good, it's coming from an erotic, artistic viewpoint. I can't tell you shit about the surfing.
Remember how people used to put on a slow Elvis record to create a little atmosphere? Well, you can just throw the King in the can. The sexiest backdrop to any make-out-room has got to be "Joel Tudor: Longer," by JBrother. You'll get the idea as soon as you see the web site. it's one long-playing trompe-de-foreplay. I have people in New York who've never surfed a day in their lives begging me for copies of this DVD. Now you know where to find it yourself!
What makes it sexy? Well, the music is incredible, the cinematography is like living through a dream, and Joel himself is one of the most graceful creatures on earth. And then there's that amazing water, in every arc and color. Aqua-erotica, indeed.
Joel Tudor is all about mellow. On the other hand, sometimes you want to fuck and scream and pull someone's hair— that's when you want to throw down and watch "Monster Mavericks". Do not accept any lame imitation! There are tons of Mavericks movies on the scene and they are all NOTHING compared to this one.
"Monster Mavericks" was made by Mark Matovich, who obviously loves music. He created a punk/grunge soundtrack of insane caliber. It's like "Cobain Goes Surfing." Couple the sounds with the terrifying descriptions of Mavericks' break, and it's like listening to the darkest Edgar Allen Poe. Finally, you have the rides... complete death thrills. Psychotic Wipeouts. One Petit Mort after another. It's devastating, and for the dry observer at home, a total rush.
Women, you ask? Well, there's many to watch, and my favorite from the lusting point-of-view, is Keala Kennelly. There is no movie to do her justice, or any of the other female surfers, from an homage point of view. The mainstream surf photographers don't seem to know how to eroticize women athletes, or they're afraid to.
The (male) surf-shooters have the old-school notion that "sexy" photos are supposed to be nudie shots, and of course these female competitors would kill them if they reduced them to that. This is one of the most macho sports there is; it makes bullfighting look ladylike.
But does Joel Tudor have to drop his trunks to be devastating? Of course not. It's these women's sheer performance that turns me on— I want to be SLAMMED by these Amazons, not tickled with them. Keala gets the closest to that, in her charisma; so if you dig her, check out her scenes in "Step Into Liquid," — the movie is a bit corny, but the footage is fantastic.
As many of you noticed yesterday, my blog was broken. It's okay now. Unfortunately, it was like a black-out, entirely out of my hands. I'm very sorry for the confusion.
The blog service I use, called Typepad, had a meltdown in
the middle of the night, Thursday. It wasn't until about 12 hours later
that it came back up. It affected thousands of web journals.
I was vexed, and frightened. The night of the shutdown, I had just sent my very first mailing to my entire email list— thousands of people— telling them to "come on over!"
If they were innocent enough to try my blog link, they got an ERROR message! So much for my credibility.
Another cause for anxiety... I've been invited to be a columnist for The Huffington Post, and they're running my first column Saturday the 17th. I dreaded to think that HP readers might link over to my blog, and find it D.O.A.
I meant to tell you the Huffington news in a spirit of celebration, before all this happened! I'm flattered to death. I hope a zillion people come over here and pick out their purity rings!
Katherine Gates has a way of talking me into anything. —Even neo-cannibalism.
In her new story, "Eat Me," Gates explores the world of "gourmet cannibals"— foodies who like to slather their lovers with honey, tie them up with kitchen twine, and stuff an apple in their mouth. Baste me and turn me over, darling! Actually, I think I'd like to be a pudding for Boxing Day.
Gate's subjects represent the ultimate slow-food orgasm, since the entire spectacle is the preparation, without digestion.
The cannibal crowd go to great lengths to explain that they are NOT Jeffrey Dahmer, and that this is all in good fun and delectable taste. But I think the photos speak for themselves. —So funny and titillating at the same time. If the subscribers to Cooks Illustrated saw this, I don't think there'd be any turning back.
Katherine Gates is a sexual anthropologist, whose book Deviant Desires transformed my idea of "fetish." Or, as Katherine would
say, the "ongoing metamorphosis of how we understand the human sexual
imagination." In her book, I found myself absorbed in her interviews with pony girls and
balloon-blowing enthusiasts, furverts and clown orgies, all the while
thinking, "I could do that, I would do that!" She talks to so many
REAL people, (as many women as men), that it breaks through all the
stultifying porn clichés about what is normal or extreme. There's a little bit of a "plushie" in everyone, don't you think?
I once was shot by Vanity Fair magazine as the centerpiece of a large oyster and pearl tray. I was surrounded by oysters, seaweed, and jewels. I didn't like the photographers, who treated me like a clam shell, but the props were really arousing. It was like taking that "peel me a grape" meme one step further.
Edible sex can definitely go wrong, of course. When I was young and naive, I tried some of those "chocolate-flavored" erotic oils... BLECH! It was like "Deep Inside Robitussin."
Here's decent alternative for the fledgling "cannibal": Pour on the Hershey's syrup and forget all the phony stuff. Better yet, melt some real Ghirardelli's. Real food is soooo much better than anything you can find in those "flavored lube" disasters. Coconut oil, almond oil, apricot...yum. And there's nothing like a real whipped cream party. I guess I'm just more of the candy thermometer type.
I only make eggnog once a year, for a big party at Yuletide. The word orgy comes to mind. I've never seen so many people's eyes roll back in their heads, simultaneously.
You want the recipe? You shall have it. It's not hard, just a bit time-consuming. You have to break a lot of eggs. And you will be spoiled. That supermarket eggnog is going to taste like Elmer's Glue after this.
My recipe is adapted from the first cookbook I ever bought with my own money when I was 16: The Vegetarian Epicure,
by Anna Thomas. I have learned more from this book about food and
cooking than any other; it was my kitchen teacher... still is,
actually. Before I die, I want to make every recipe in it. More about Anna Thomas after the recipe!
12 eggs, separated 1 1/2 c. powdered sugar 1 qt. milk (regular, not lowfat or nonfat! preferably organic!) 1 c. cognac (optional) 1 c. dark rum (optional) 1 large orange 1 lemon 1 quart whipping cream grated nutmeg
Special Things Needed:
a very sharp butcher knife electric mixer grater potato peeler extra eggs in case you screw up the separations (easy to do) two big bowls to make it with one nice bowl to serve it in, and a ladle
Method: Beat the egg yolks and sugar until thick, then stir in the milk, cognac, and rum.
Beat the egg whites until they just hold a peak, and then fold them
in. Put this mixture away to chill for at least 3 hours. (Overnight is
fine, just put plastic wrap over bowl).
Use a potato peeler to peel the very outside of the orange skin, so
you have barely any white pulp on the back of the skin. You just want
the pure orange rind. Cut this skin into matchsticks, as thin as
possible and about 1 1/2 inches long. Yes, you need a sharp knife for
Grate the fresh lemon rind.
Whip the cream until it only just begins to thicken, not so much
that it actually holds peaks. Stir his half-whipped cream into the mil
and egg mixture, and beat a few more strokes with the whisk. Stir in
the lemon rind and half the orange matchsticks.
Pour the eggnog into a serving bowl. Over the top of it, sprinkle the remaining orange rind and plenty of grated nutmeg.
Serves 25 reasonable people, but only a dozen or so fanatics.
If you make it "virgin," it's easy to offer your guests liquor to add separately, just let them pour and stir.
Thomas was the author who brought "health food" into the gourmet realm.
Her book came out before "Chez Panisse," before nouvelle cuisine was
part of our vocabulary. And yet her recipes and philosophy were at the
beginning of the whole movement.
The book was published in 1970, and in this author's bio that
touches me so, it says: "Anna Thomas... is strongly committed to the
women's liberation movement..."
The book combines the techniques of French cooking with the organics
of American heritage. This book taught me, as a teenager, how to make a
"roux," how to bake bread, make a crépe, a curry, and the best soups
I've ever tasted. If it had been difficult to understand, I never would
have attempted it at the time! She makes very nuanced techniques seem
graceful to accomplish.
It only occurred to me rather late that it was all indeed
"vegetarian." You don't notice it, if you're not thinking about it.
This is an excellent book to move into a carnivore's home— they'll
never know what hit them.
Have you seen the recent stories about "Purity Rings"? These are jewelry items for teenagers that proclaim their virginity— and represent their vow to remain chaste until marriage.
Pardon me for asking, but isn't it a little weird to ADVERTISE the state of your hymen on your ring finger?
These rings make me think about sex. If I see one on your finger, I automatically think about your vagina. Is this really what the fundies want to promote?
Furthermore, where are the "slut" rings? If we're going to go all the way with this, why not? If everyone is going to advertise the condition of their genitals, and their current sexual mood, there's gonna be a lotta bling to hand out.
You can buy these purity rings at Amazon and lots of Christian weeper sites— my god, they're ugly.
Although sales for the rings are booming, apparently not many of the crackerjack toys are making it all the way to the altar. As reported, these chastity pledgers have more problems with STDs than people who went ahead and had a positive sexual experience before they were married. That's because people who admit what they're doing are more likely to use condoms...
I'm going to go make a flower garland for myself this afternoon... one that says: Love Me, Butter Me, Right This Minute. Go ahead, tell me what your "ring" says today!
Yes, that's me, photographed by Jill Posener on Duboce St. in San Francisco, during Bush Sr.'s reign. It was morning rush hour.
Jill, my dear friend and co-editor of Nothing But The Girl, has revamped her web site. Jill, who came here from England, was one of the pioneers of radical graffiti photography. She became the staff erotic photographer for On Our Backs in our prime, and is now one of the most eloquent artists and activists documenting the Berkeley controversy about the Albany Landfill.
I know you might be more tempted to click on the "erotic" link rather than the "Albany landfill," but one is no less riveting than the other!
This comes from one of my favorite feminist bloggers, Bitch PhD. She understands how your inner slut needs total support. I'd like to spend a good two hours with her in a dressing room at Nordstrom's.
She also has this to say about "nursing" bras:
For nursing, screw fiddling around with snaps, and shit on nursing bras. What I did was wear lower-cut tops and camis with a regular underwire bra. When it's time to nurse, reach in the neck of your shirt, slip the shoulder strap of the bra down, and scoop the boob out the top of the bra and neckline of your shirt. Voila, baby access!
See what I mean? She's frank, which you won't get at Macy's.