Image: “Violet Blue at SF Pride” by Kevco.
The video is edited and up, the photos are posted and tagged and trussed up like little snacklets of my experience all weekend. The thoughts in my head are about politics and equality and coming back to some very interesting porn (as I describe in the video, which is NSFW), and I’m returning to a general sense of total creative frustration. I could have made the video work-safe and pride-only, especially with the KRON-4 footage and Gavin Newsom window dressing, but I thought, fuck it — this is my experience. Life contains boobs, and I am an adult — who happens to get mailed DVDs of things called Culos Gigantes and the new Penthouse.
In the video I mention the new Penthouse, which is really the most interesting men’s mag out there right now. The centerfold (Sasha Grey) looks like an American Apparel ad but explicit and shot by Terry Richardson; all their featured models are very pretty, some have tattoos (like the cover girl) and the features are quite good. It’s not your snooze-worthy bobble-head blonde, celebutard-packed Playboy, that’s for sure. I think it could use some more weird sex features and some sex and tech stuff, and they still need to lose that tired old men’s mag formula idea of “tricking girls” but it’s been picked up more than once here in the Blogger Bungalow, so there ya go.
Other porn I mentioned in my video are Man’s Ruin, Afrodite Superstar (preview) and Black Worm (post). I haven’t seen any of them yet, but they’re the most interesting ones I got this week.
The video from my weekend is embedded after the jump after a few choice photos and some commentary about my experiences and observations. My creative frustrations will be explained over the next few posts after this one…
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Starting with the Trans March, which we escaped during for drinks — Jonathan Moore, me, Jonno:
I spent time with my adopted mom Theresa Sparks and her adorable biological daughter (my new sis!):
Saturday, Frank Chu in the Dyke March!
And in case you’re wondering why every photo I have of the Dyke March (where I fell in lust with a random girl on the street, alas) from the house party I was at on 16th Street has *everyone* looking up and grinning, it’s because me and two other hot girls were yelling “show us your tits!” and giving them MUCH inspiration:
Then on sunday, the Alice B. Toklas LGBT Democratic Brunch, where I met (and re-met some) of our elected officials. Tom Ammiano and Mark Leno remembered me; the DA Kamala Harris looked like she was about to pee herself when Theresa told her I was a sex writer. Awkward for her, amusing for me. She said, “Oh! Uh, you, uh, just keep doing what you’re doing!” then she got away quickly. Whatever. I still don’t see anyone I identify with in any political realm and that’s lame. It’s like the world of news anchors — I’d never hang out with them, they’re like from another planet. Not like normal people. Anyway, there were Hilary Clinton buttons on all the tables, but no one wore them; lots of people had Edwards stickers on, and Elizabeth Edwards gave a moving speech about how she became friends on an online forum (after her son died) with a lesbian woman whose partner had been critically injured in a car wreck, and was shut out from the entire process of her lover dying by the family. Even down to having the locks on their apartment changed; Mrs. Edwards recounted living through the awfulness of the woman’s experience to the room. It was quite a moving speech. Then she talked about how no candidates are supporting marriage equality (“which include the 11,000 rights under marriage laws”). I was at the table with my family, and we all remarked that it’s too bad she’s not the one running for president. Too bad it’s their wives that have to make them all seem human.
Then, riding in the parade with Theresa and the SFPD:
Here’s my beautiful sister while we waited in line for the VIP after party at City Hall. This shot was with my Helio Ocean (which I love in the complex way of gadget amour):
