The snake emerging from the underarm, with the baleful eye echoing the the dusky rose nipple of the godlike torso, promoted an unsettling reassessment of my psychosexual life choices. #HansBellmer
“Not On Topic” - thanks to Barbara and everyone else who called about my minuscule appearance in The New Yorker about sex direction in the movies — I blabbed to author for hours, and I bet she has enough for a book . . . I had a ball with Serena and Mona in our Shameless Hussies meetup. Mona was phoning in from the Dominican Republic where the new president is trying his best to be Trump Lite . . . David, that was wild about the story you sent on how Ansel Adams moved way to the right during the Free Speech Movement days on Berkeley. But why? You don’t see that a lot with art photographers, to say the least . . . A bunch of unrepentant codgers (including me) got on KSQD last night to talk about Mike Rotkin’s passing. He was like the Zohran Mamdani of Santa Cruz in the 80s and 90s! Wore a t-shirt all around town that said, “This is What a Socialist Feminist Looks Like.” Made so much of this town what it is today and why we love it . . . Please think of our beloved Heather Harrison, she’s got one of those fucking brain cancer diagnoses. LOVE TO YOU, and how’s this for catching up?
Hold up, you cook your beans with salt? I thought the salt was only to be added after they were cooked. And add me to your invite list, please! I"ll bring a bottle of something good!
First of all, I love the inspirational music. I will never forget the 2006 (or was it 2007?) Exotic Erotic Ball wherein Peaches and the Vau de Vire Society took the stage and several minutes into it she belted out "Fuck the Pain Away." I was mesmerized.
Fun Fact to Know and Tell: My Japanese-Mexican wife loves Kewpie mayo.
If we didn't have to soothe our furbabies (especially Fiona) I'd bring my version of mac salad and show you how to make a Violet Death in the Afternoon.
We have a cadre of douche-filters within a few blocks of us who seem to forget that this town is chock-full of PTSD-afflicted veterans (nearby AFB) and lots of puppies, and they fire off the illegal rockets (which pisses off this Leftie veteran) with impunity. I mean, Thor's Balls, children! Three nearby cities do a display, for Zeus' sake! Go see that!
I had to LMAO at the "small serving of cereal." I'm stealing that idea. It's why I have loved you for so long.
"One for the ages" is an apt description, my friend. It was our first EEB and we attended every year until the bad news came in 2009. I suppose some legal issues continue to prevent anyone from taking up the banner to revive the Ball in some form or another.
A "Violet Death in the Afternoon" is a drink I came across several years ago at Zero Zero in San Francisco (which, sadly, closed in 2022---thanks a lot COVID). The place had Negronis on tap. ON TAP, FOR SUGAR FROSTED FUCK'S SAKE!
(Full disclosure: The Negroni is one of my top 5 fave cocktails)
It's a take on a cocktail invented by Ernest Hemingway and named after one of his few non-fiction works, "Death in the Afternoon," while he was living on the Left Bank. His notes tell us to pour a shot of Absinthe into a champagne flute and add cold Prosecco. "Drink four to five of these---very slowly," he adds.
What Zero Zero did was put the placed about four ice cubes---with violet petals within---into an Old-Fashioned glass and add the Green Fairy and Prosecco; then pour in Creme de Violette to give it enough velvety violet darkness to appeal to anyone's Goth sensibilities.
Since I knew that asking for the recipe would be met with a polite negative, I simply monkeyed with the ingredients at home until I got a satisfactory mix, which means a half-shot of Absinthe because a little of that goes a long way.
Like sex on the beaches…bitches!!
The snake emerging from the underarm, with the baleful eye echoing the the dusky rose nipple of the godlike torso, promoted an unsettling reassessment of my psychosexual life choices. #HansBellmer
Boom! Bellmer 4th of July, haha!
“Not On Topic” - thanks to Barbara and everyone else who called about my minuscule appearance in The New Yorker about sex direction in the movies — I blabbed to author for hours, and I bet she has enough for a book . . . I had a ball with Serena and Mona in our Shameless Hussies meetup. Mona was phoning in from the Dominican Republic where the new president is trying his best to be Trump Lite . . . David, that was wild about the story you sent on how Ansel Adams moved way to the right during the Free Speech Movement days on Berkeley. But why? You don’t see that a lot with art photographers, to say the least . . . A bunch of unrepentant codgers (including me) got on KSQD last night to talk about Mike Rotkin’s passing. He was like the Zohran Mamdani of Santa Cruz in the 80s and 90s! Wore a t-shirt all around town that said, “This is What a Socialist Feminist Looks Like.” Made so much of this town what it is today and why we love it . . . Please think of our beloved Heather Harrison, she’s got one of those fucking brain cancer diagnoses. LOVE TO YOU, and how’s this for catching up?
Hold up, you cook your beans with salt? I thought the salt was only to be added after they were cooked. And add me to your invite list, please! I"ll bring a bottle of something good!
Yes ma’am
I ❤️ the idea of FUCK ICE cocktails!
Wow, sound mind blowing! Have a blast!
First of all, I love the inspirational music. I will never forget the 2006 (or was it 2007?) Exotic Erotic Ball wherein Peaches and the Vau de Vire Society took the stage and several minutes into it she belted out "Fuck the Pain Away." I was mesmerized.
Fun Fact to Know and Tell: My Japanese-Mexican wife loves Kewpie mayo.
If we didn't have to soothe our furbabies (especially Fiona) I'd bring my version of mac salad and show you how to make a Violet Death in the Afternoon.
We have a cadre of douche-filters within a few blocks of us who seem to forget that this town is chock-full of PTSD-afflicted veterans (nearby AFB) and lots of puppies, and they fire off the illegal rockets (which pisses off this Leftie veteran) with impunity. I mean, Thor's Balls, children! Three nearby cities do a display, for Zeus' sake! Go see that!
I had to LMAO at the "small serving of cereal." I'm stealing that idea. It's why I have loved you for so long.
Have a rebellious blowout! UP THE REBELS!!
Wow, Richard, I am so envious of your Peaches concert; I”m sure it was one for the ages. What is “Violet Death in the Afternoon”? The name alone . . .
Xoxoxo Susie
"One for the ages" is an apt description, my friend. It was our first EEB and we attended every year until the bad news came in 2009. I suppose some legal issues continue to prevent anyone from taking up the banner to revive the Ball in some form or another.
A "Violet Death in the Afternoon" is a drink I came across several years ago at Zero Zero in San Francisco (which, sadly, closed in 2022---thanks a lot COVID). The place had Negronis on tap. ON TAP, FOR SUGAR FROSTED FUCK'S SAKE!
(Full disclosure: The Negroni is one of my top 5 fave cocktails)
It's a take on a cocktail invented by Ernest Hemingway and named after one of his few non-fiction works, "Death in the Afternoon," while he was living on the Left Bank. His notes tell us to pour a shot of Absinthe into a champagne flute and add cold Prosecco. "Drink four to five of these---very slowly," he adds.
What Zero Zero did was put the placed about four ice cubes---with violet petals within---into an Old-Fashioned glass and add the Green Fairy and Prosecco; then pour in Creme de Violette to give it enough velvety violet darkness to appeal to anyone's Goth sensibilities.
Since I knew that asking for the recipe would be met with a polite negative, I simply monkeyed with the ingredients at home until I got a satisfactory mix, which means a half-shot of Absinthe because a little of that goes a long way.
Happy Pride, baby.
xoxoxoxox
Rick