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May 23, 2004
Dirty Pictures
Last night there was an art opening at the They Who Search gallery (which was fantastic and wherein everyone who attended left with an art piece) and then we all went down to the Holly Street compound for a drinky dancey party.
During the night I went into one of the Gaudi-like structures to find a bathroom and stumbled into a line full of waiting ladies. As I waited, another girl joined the line behind me and we made bathroom banter waiting for our turn. All the girls in front of us in line had been taking turns standing in the doorway, blocking the view from any passersby (there was no door) and when I went in, the girl who had been behind me stepped up and proceeded to give my seated, peeing self a booty show from the doorway, the likes of which I have never seen before for free. Halfway through she announced loudly and giddily, to no one in particular, “I learned to fuck by watching porn!”
It was a weird thing to think about, and though I have manymuddledminds on pornography and the sex industry, after a little minute it just made me sad. When you announce something like that to me, it’s like you’re saying, “I’m really interested in looking sexy, and have little to no interest in making sure my encounters are a good experience for me,” though I know that was probably the furthest thing from her mind when she said it. I’m open to all the possibilities of pornography, all about looking at sexy people looking good and happy and making other poeple feel good, but the reality of it always seems so far from that. To me, most mainstream porn is set up for women to look like sexy things, but not to be actively sexual creatures. I mean, looking sexy is generally a far cry from feeling sexy, at least that’s what my experience has been. And while I’m not one of those feminists who feels personally damaged by porn, I am pretty certain that early on I would have been much happier with my body and what it did when it was sexual if I hadn’t been so damn concerned about what looked right or sexy and just felt able to dive on in and look like my messy, silly self. Maybe that’s a fault that lies with me, but it was just weird to hear that girl say that was how she “learned to fuck” because all I ever learned from it was a very limited and contrived sexuality and not one damn thing about making sure that my body felt sexy, only that it looked it.
And, no question about it, she looked good….
Posted by pogo at 03:35 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 22, 2004
The Lonely Little Thrift Store Where I Go
The other day when I was in the thrift store up the street, I was almost driven mad by the loud, loud, horrible music pumping through the store’s speakers. Think Huey Lewis era stylings. Think Quarterflash. A song by the Steve Miller Band (possibly. It also could have been Joe Walsh. I always forget the Joe Walsh was a rocker, since that was also the name of my high school physics teacher, who spoke very slowly and was completely bald) came on all about how “life’s been good” to him so far. There was a woman a few aisles over from me, looking at jammies. Her look remained one that would have been popular during the time of these songs. She looked like someone’s mean mom.
There’s a line in that song about, “I go to parties, sometimes ‘til four; It’s hard to leave when you can’t find the door.” When that particular part came around Miss Bastrop County 1982 started singing along, very adamantly, almost angry, and looking at me, daring me, but I’m not sure what the dare was. And then abruptly, as soon as those two lines were over, she shut up and went back to the row of gently used pj’s. I guess she wanted me to know she still parties. So, you know, props to her.
And the image as well as that fucking song has been haunting me since Wednesday.
Posted by pogo at 07:43 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 19, 2004
I Wanna Be a Comic Book Hero
Last night I had the best dream. In it, the Love and Rockets Hoppers existed in real life, and all those people were my friends. Not everyone knew about it, and I had to be kind of secretive about it. In order to access that world, all I had to do was draw something from a story or a panel that already existed in the comic and suddenly Maggie and Hopey would show up and take me to a punk rock show.
I am a bona fide comic book dork.
Posted by pogo at 10:53 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Mr. Jones
“The music I’ve wanted my groups to play is what I considered to be a pure form from music. When you hear the music you can feel it, and the people playing have a kind of rapport with each other so they project a definite kind of contemporary and spontaneous… well, they swing. I like to be moved. I like to feel things. I like to feel music because that the way I am… I want to enjoy myself; I want to to enjoy life, and when I enjoy myself then I think it’s an honest kind of effort I have put forth to function as a musician and an artist.”
RIP
Posted by pogo at 10:42 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack