Jun 28, 2014

Fucking Foucault (reblogged)

Here's another beautiful piece from the mysterious Mr. E., the force behind the 50 Shady Gays. Enjoy:

I’m sure that every queer cultural theorist has thought about it at some point haven’t they?

I was first fucked by Michel Foucault during the nineties when I was a raver/rock star and all round fuck up. It wasn’t until I was a mature student, when I was reading articles on discourse and power, that I thought to myself, I actually love this man.

Michel Foucault (1926-1984)
I have never been literally fucked by him of course, but I have in a literary way, which is often much more intimate and powerful – and I suppose in some way it’s all about the power isn’t it?

Anyway, being incredibly vain and sexually unfulfilled as a performer (exclusively top), I naturally thought that in some way my life mirrored his; indeed, as I flounced across stages, and tripped through a myriad of alien, urban sprawls (oh so bohemian and clever); I stupidly imagined myself to be his successor. Yes, I alone would weave the power of his madness into my own duvet of sexual discovery, because I was unique – it was like he was speaking to me, and me alone.

Jun 27, 2014

Gallery &-t

There is so much good stuff out there, we have to start a gallery. Plus, it'll make our life easier; we need no further excuse for posting pictures once in a while without further excuse ("Huh?"). So here are the first five pictures by Tony de Carlo, Bob Bienpensant, Joe Phillips, Jezza Smilez, and Michael Breyette:

"Adam Steve Eden," Tony de Carlo (2002)

Jun 25, 2014

The Fountain of Geneva (2) --- The Muttoni

John and Alex, our friends from the Green Eyes, are being told the back story of the Fountain of Geneva.  So far we've learned that Caesar visited the place once and was presented with a lust-slave he didn't like (historically true). Now Hadrian, the Roman emperor (117-138 AD) is visiting the place, almost 200 years later. Richard Zugabe, librarian of the city archives of Geneva, tells the story.

Part II --- The Muttoni

“The Aldermen of Geneva had good reasons to avoid their predecessors’ mistake when Hadrian came to town in 133 AD. There wasn’t only the precedent of Caesar’s snub, but also the arrival of the Muttoni (as the Romans would call them), an entire tribe of blond, blue-eyed, oh-my-God people. The Muttoni had settled in the Saas valley, a side valley off the nearby Valais, and were making a big nuisance of themselves. Not content to follow the sheep-raising, cow-milking example of their Celtic neighbors, the Muttoni spent their time on raids. They would maraud through the region and misappropriate everything not nailed down, including human beings---and in particular adolescent males.

“Slavery, though an institution throughout the empire, was not really entrenched in the region. The locals were unable to appreciate six-feet-three hunks knocking on doors, tossing unruly hair, baring wide chests, and pointing steely javelins at innocent kinfolk while dragging handsome youths into captivity.


Many locals were killed during the raids of course, courageous fathers, desperate mothers, trustful dogs, even the stray mother-in-law is mentioned. 

“Many locals were killed during the raids of course, courageous fathers, desperate mothers, trustful dogs, even the stray mother-in-law is mentioned---resistance was futile, the Muttoni would always prevail. If there was any kind of racial phenotype better not mentioned or presented to visiting big shots, it was the Nordic type of the blue-eyed, hair-tossing chest-barer, whether oh-my-God or not.

Jun 22, 2014

The hottest criminal ever

Yes, we know, this is a stupid header. Anyhow, Jeremy Meeks got himself arrested in 2002:

And again in 2008:

And now what? We have Facebook now, so he decides to go viral, and have himself arrested one more time:


His mug shot triggers 50,000 likes on Facebook in one day. And comments like these:

-'He didn't know any different. I could turn him into a "model" citizen. Where can I pay his bail?'
-'He needs to be a model. I would buy whatever he's selling!'
-'What is he guilty of?! First Degree Sexiness?!'
-'He'll probably be on next years prison calendar...Mr....EVERY MONTH!'
-'Marry me, Mr Meeks! Hopefully he changes his ways - but I'll take him any day...'
-'I would go to prison for aiding and aBEDding him'
-'I wanna be in his cell!'

Jeremy Meeks!

Jun 19, 2014

The fountain of Geneva (1) ---Caesar's snub

In This is heaven we alleged that the Fountain of Geneva was created by the Roman emperor Hadrian. Here is the back story for this amazing feat, fresh from our laptop.

And, of course, John and Alex from the Green Eyes are somehow involved.

Part I ---  Caesar's snub

We’re off to Europe on our honey moon, Alex wants me to show him my native country. We book a flight into Paris and end up in Geneva because France is on strike and Charles de Gaulle, the airport, is closed. Next thing, we find ourselves strolling through the Swiss city, a bit red-eyed from the flight, and alight on a park bench on the shore of Lake Geneva, snow-topped mountains left and right and in between the Alpine mega-pond.

“Hundred thirty two gallons of water per second,” he says, “reaching 140 meters into the sky. The Fountain of Geneva. The planet’s most spectacular ejaculation. Since 1900 years.”

We’re not the only people out, and some guy walks up the shore and then down the shore and finally asks whether the remaining mile of park bench is taken. He speaks French but switches to English as soon as Alex opens his mouth. He sits down, a middle-aged gentleman equipped with a Swiss-Swiss watch, watches his watch, studiously, and finally says, briefly lifting his gaze: “Two minutes.” We return his gaze, he says: “One minute.” Alex grabs my wrist, says: “Relax.” The guy keeps his eyes on his watch, then says: “Voilà.” And voila, the lake gulps, spits, and ejects a gushing column of jizz, a thick white jet rising high into the sky and beyond and falling back into the lake again. “Hundred thirty two gallons of water per second,” he says, “reaching 140 meters into the sky. The Fountain of Geneva. The planet’s most spectacular ejaculation. Since 1900 years.”

The fountain, with the Mont Blanc, the highest mountain of the Alps, in the background

There are worse ways to make a pass at people, I think to myself, especially if you’re into threesomes. Next thing, the guy says: “You know, there are better ways to make a pass at people. That’s what you are possibly thinking, hein?”
“Yes,” I say (let’s cut this short).
“You want to hear the story?”
“The story?”
“The story of this fountain.”
“It’s on the internet, I guess,” I say, but Alex grabs my wrist again.
“No-no,” the guy says, “it’s still classified, after all these years.”
“My name is Alex,” Alex says, “this is John.”
“Enchanté,” the guy says, “I’m Richard, Richard Zugabe. I’ve been the librarian of the city archives for many years. I am the only one with access to the relevant files. Which means something, here in Switzerland. You want to hear the story?”
“Yes,” Alex says.

Jun 13, 2014

Find a caption

"The Taliban has arrived"
And while we are at it: Sacha, our landlord here, sends this alternative picture of this poppy in our neighbor's garden  (we've added the arrow)...

...and writes: "On my way to Sweden the other day... I waved, but I guess you didn't look up that very moment..."...
...so we write in reply: "No-no, we waved back."

(Very deep!)

Jun 12, 2014

The anchor nouveau from FOX --- This is heaven (teaser)

This is the second teaser of the chapter "A box of sleepy kittens" (here's the first). It's a bit non-standard, this chapter, (a) because we needed, after all the colloquy of the previous chapters, a decidedly prose-oriented text, (b) because we wanted to convey the vibes of the first joint chillin' of Alex and John, and (c)  because we wanted to related the story of the first festival night from an unexpected angle. So here's a bit more about that first night. Main characters, as usual, are John and Alex, who are relating the events of the evening to Maurice. 

For more context, refer to the earlier teasers (link below), or this post. Here goes:

The fourth in the line is a couple with a name like Håågen-Dazs, a man with a blonde mop of hair and soft, hanging boobs under his dress shirt, and a bosomy wife sitting in the first row of the main bleacher to whom he’s waving a lot when she’s not waving back. The wife, we had her over too, she came to buy chocolates from Ben because she got so nervous, she had to flee the “staggering physicality of palpable tension” on the stage, as she explained.

The fifth candidate is also blond, but female, with a longish, consent-demanding face that stares right at you, and a lot of hands and fingernails attached to her extremities, hot in a fashioned way (she), pure anchor nouveau, she could host any show, especially on FOX, especially on Christmas decoration. 

She wasn’t even looking (over her shoulder) while the mayor had already developed a taste for crowd-control and worked the audience about her husband’s plight, thumbs-up-thumbs-down, coliseum style, the mayor’s thumb up, Håågen’s thumb up, boos and cheers, the mayor’s thumb down, Håågen feigning despair, or not, the crowd roaring, feet stampin’, bleachers collapsing (almost), the mayor’s thumbs up again, Håågen waving at the empty seat of his nervous wife while Brigittå (the wife) explains that they are participating because they are a pair of romance novel writers and need to branch out into Young Adults, whatever that means. Håågen survives.

The fifth candidate?

The fifth candidate is also blond, but female, with a longish, consent-demanding face that stares right at you, and a lot of hands and fingernails attached to her extremities, hot in a fashioned way (she), pure anchor nouveau, she could host any show, especially on FOX, especially about Christmas decoration (I have to explain to Maurice about FOX's War on Christmas). She survives while casting a malevolent regard at the defeated fish under the bridge, it’s so subtle...

This crowd-pleasing picture occupies this space because we needed a post between the last Green-Eyes teaser and the next one

"Know yourself!"
((Yes, it's him). Artwork by Bob Bienpensant)

Jun 9, 2014

Subliminal pudor --- This is heaven (teaser)

We've met Professor Barbette Bienpensant in an earlier teaser, here, when she walks her sister across the festival venue and hits upon Alex. But John had already made her fateful acquaintance at that point, in a non-meeting of the festival jury. Here's the story.

Local volunteers (we’ve mentioned them already) are prepping the stage for very local artists, mostly by tripping over cables, shoving boom boxes, and bonding; fist bumps are exchanged excessively. Some local artists are already present, very present, and the dividing line between artists and volunteers is fading already. A few sun-burnt tourists are hanging around on the bleachers, swilling beer from oversized cans or kicking them (the cans) across the tufty asphalt surface of the overflow parking lot that the Surfside Field once was. Some pony-tailed redneck revs the engine of an antique, improbably-polished bike next to the trailers next to the canal, another redneck (bald) revs another less-polished bike in reply. The troupe of morning vampires has arrived and mingles with creatures from other undead tribes. Two kids are engaged in a fang-flashing contest, other kids join. There is much hissing and cape-flapping, but no declared winner. The anticipation of boredom is palpable. It’s a crowd of five dozen people that will grow to a few hundred during the evening (if history is any guide; last time I attended was years ago). The satellite dish of TVToo is nowhere to be seen. Nothing seems to symbolize, let alone represent the importance of an event supposedly backed by prize money of a hundred-thousand dollars.

The bride

Sunday matinée

"Blessings, my children."
(Artwork by Bob Bienpensant)

Jun 5, 2014

Accidentally naughty cartoons that will ruin your childhood

"Ice cream is not good for virgins" --- This is heaven (teaser)

Alex and John have left an elated Albert behind, and are on their way back to John's apartment to begin their life ever-after. They are intercepted by a tribe of vampire tourists:

We are about to turn the corner of Nick’s Restaurant but are held back by a bunch of kids coming from Georgia Avenue. Teens, mostly, tribal in appearance, piercings, pipe jeans, some Cherokee heads, smudgy mascara, third generation punks who have seen an ocean before and are too cool to remember. They look at us, we look at them, Alex’s arm is still on my shoulder. There’s something exploratory about their body talk. One or two are homophobic (if I read them well). “You know where the beach is?” a pale-faced girl without piercings asks Alex (we are standing on the boardwalk). Alex explains about the beach (“This is the beach”). 

"This is the beach" (Rehoboth Beach, DE, the model for Georgia Beach, seen with the eyes of Peggy Noonan's statue (roughly)

“You locals?” Yes we are. They’ve just arrived per overnight ride in second-hand passenger vans still misparked on the main street, they explain. “Where’s the festival?” The festival is on the grounds of Surfside Field, between Lake Gerard Park and the beach, half a mile to the north, at least that’s where it was last year.

The view this morning

This morning around 6:30

Jun 2, 2014

Restaurants in San Francisco --- This is heaven (teaser)

We're back to "This is heaven," starting (again) with Chapter 2. Having had some time to reflect on the whole thing, we came to the conclusion that we need something to hold all the plot lines together, and the only thing at hand is the relationship between John & Alex. So we are reviewing the extant chapters in order to lend more profile to said relationship.  

Context: Alex and John have left an elated Albert behind, and are on their way back to John's apartment to begin their life ever-after. Alex has survived a serious suicide attempt and struggles with serious amnesia.

We walk in lockstep. It’s already getting busy on the path along the beach. People look at us. Alex whistles again.
“Don Henley?” I ask.
“Don’t look back, you can never look back,” he sings.
“You brown skin is shining in the sun.” I say.

The Zuni café on Market Street, San Francisco, whose menu inspired a few lines in this text

He laughs like he’s been told a real good joke. “This is heaven,” he says.
“You mean it.”
“Yes, I mean it.”
“There’s something in you that seems to remember your depression. Something that feels relief.”
“That would be my brain, wouldn’t it, or what’s left thereof. The lack of oxygen, tell me, I've been dead for how long?”
“Almost four minutes.”
“I’m lucky I can still think. You are lucky I can still think.” He sort of double-checks on me with his grip on my shoulder. “Well, no, let me retract.”
“Well, I am lucky,” I say.
“Let me retract nonetheless.”
“'You are lucky I can still think.' Sounds arrogant. Is arrogant.”
“It’s true, though.”
“Okay, we don’t retract, we apologize. Let me apologize.”

Street fighter (Jacky)

Jacky, the famous producer, sends this trailer of her latest effort:

There are 12 episodes, apparently, and they are all on YouTube,


Enjoy (the Asian cast has an amazing command of English).