This time, the dream is on me, or what I imagine would be penned at The Top of The Mark. A duet with licorice sticks and saxophone plays quietly in the background, drifting and melting into my scotch and soda. The following words hardly seem mentioned anymore; Twilight, Starlight, Stardust, Moonlight, Moonbeams, Polkadots, Adoringly, Beloved, Serenade, Tuxedo, Laughter, Ever After...
Oh no Sanrio! I'm not trying to uncover your ancient Chinese Secret! Covert action @ Tink Hall, Asia Plaza. Taking photographs of candy is strictly prohibited. Camera clicks provoke explosive screaming and waving, expletives in a foreign tongue, an escort from the premises. Damn them!
3:45 PM :
Monday, January 14, 2002
Mmm smut! You may have won the dubious distinction of making Mannet's Best of the Web Gay Erotica List 2001. Your blue film flickers, hands of a stranger, this list is getting to know you, and its getting to like you.
There is a move afoot to canonize Mychal Judge, the openly gay chaplain of the New York City Fire Department who was killed on Sept. 11. Judge was delivering last rites to a fallen firefighter when he was struck by falling debris from the World Trade Center towers. He is listed as the city's first official victim of the terrorist attacks. A Franciscan, the Fire Department chaplain has emerged from the twisted steel of the crumpled twin towers as a multipurpose icon, The Fire Department? New York's Irish crowd? The brotherhood of Alcoholics Anonymous? claimed as one of their own by constituents throughout the city. There are more tangible signs of his new status: a stretch of West 31st Street was named for Judge, along with a Hudson River ferry. Pope John Paul II accepted the martyred chaplain's fire helmet from a contingent of city firefighters in the Vatican. Gay Saints are hardly new, St. Augustine for example or the original Jesuit motto; 'A Man for Other Men'. Here here!
12:27 PM :
Sunday, January 13, 2002
Last night that Xerox saved my life. Void of nostalgia, void of commodification Fucked Up + Photocopied is a raw gut level history of Punk, or the last youth movement that wasn't co-opted by MTV or The Gag. This is a tasty assemblage of xeroxed scribbles and scrawling, marked up by disaffected youth everywhere, youths like me who were sick of the bullshit and reacted with their guitars, zines, flyers anything to make a mark against Reagan/Bush, or society in general. There is Reagan as Satan, Reagan as Hitler, Reagan as gun-toting psycho path, Reagan with Michael Jackson, and on and on. All the xeroxing, all the drawing, all the writing, all the music, exploded into a biting social commentary. The zines, rants, flyers, could easily be given away at shows for free or slapped on telephone polls everywhere. Everything was handmade, cut slice D.I.Y. produce or perish, it was about energy and excitement, doing something because you loved it, not because of some fucking lame marketing scheme. This book is the closest thing to documenting the bands, energy and ready-made art of that time period. My own personal experiences, growing up in Cleveland my favorite zine was 'Negative Print', which was produced by David James (Death of Samantha, Cinema 14) and Eric Barth (Gaunt). Photos of local shows were by Steve Wainstead, take a look at some of his excellent work
10:14 PM :
