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Mixtapes For Hookers is turning two soon (!!!), and to celebrate I’m teaming up with some awesome local promoters to plan an AWESOME AWESOME party. DJs, bands, performance artists, dancers, videos, and God knows what other sorts of fun and debauchery.
But because this is Mixtapes For Hookers, and because this is Rhode Island and there’s been a lot of talk about the hos of the state, I want this event to be sex-worker focused. That means that I want you, sex workers in the New England area, to take part!
This is still in the early-planning stages, but if you’re interested in learning more, drop me an e-mail. Yurigellerbentme at gmail dot com.
Note: This is a separate call from the art show!! Not to yell, but I don’t want to be confusing!! And I can see how that might be confusing.
Today Madonna digitally rush-released “Celebration,” the leaked single promoting her forthcoming best-of. Because I am bored, I compiled my own Madonna best-of today. I’m actually not even sure why she has another best-of coming out; at this point I’m pretty sure she should be doing a big box set, and it should be at least 5 CDs and come with lots of Santeria candles each depicting a different Madonna era. And condoms. But if I were compiling a one-disc best-of, it would include a mix of hit singles, forgotten favorites, album tracks and rarities. In Madonna’s case, there’s also lots of soundtrack stuff to choose from.
I’m not including mp3s of any of the songs, because, you know, I’d like to keep the blog open for more than five more minutes. But here’s the tracklist I came up with:
1. Die Another Day
2. Deeper and Deeper
3. Till Death Do Us Part
4. Causing A Commotion
5. Mother and Father
6. Sorry
7. Like An Angel Passing Through My Room
8. Don’t Tell Me
9. Dress You Up
10. Open Your Heart
11. Don’t Cry For Me Argentina
12. The Power of Good-bye
13. Angel
14. Human Nature
15. Burning Up
16. Crazy For You
17. Nothing Fails
I mean, ideally I’d also be including Papa Don’t Preach, and Material Girl, and Like A Prayer, and Ray of Light, and lots of others. But these would be my choices for a new (non-chronilogical) best-of compliation.
[Photo: Steven Meisel, 1990]
2. Kristin Hersh, Summer Salt
Kristin Hersh’s album Sunny Border Blue was without question my favorite CD of 2001. It might even be my favorite album of the decade. Songs like Spain and Flipside and Listerine bristle with drunken rage, while somehow never sounding especially angry, and I like that. Hersh’s lyrics are sad, funny, and mildly discomforting. “I don’t know where I am,” goes the chorus to 37 Hours. “Plus I don’t know when I am. ‘Cause you insist on using fucked-up military time.” She somehow manages to be eternally weird without seeming silly.
Recorded in-between 1999′s noisy Sky Motel and the disturbingly quiet 2004 album The Grotto, Sunny Border Blue is mind-blowing from start to finish. Musically, it strikes the perfect balance between the singer-songwriter’s poppier side and her strange habits (changing mood midsong, forgetting to write choruses, etc.) And with the exception of the drums on her cover of Cat Stevens’ Trouble, she performed the entire album herself.
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There’s just a handful of days left for sale on the 2010 New York Sexbloggers Calendar. It only costs $10 to buy a day–I got my birthday!–and the proceeds benefit Sex Work Awareness, which is an awesome organization. The calendars go on sale in November, at which point I’ll pester you to buy one. My boyfriend’s designing them, so I’ll take it personally if you don’t get one.
Above is an image from the ’09 calendar. Jamye Waxman’s image has been staring at all the dirty dishes in my kitchen for the past 31 days, and tomorrow Sinclair Sexsmith will be taking over that fun duty.
I’ve been sick for the last couple of days, which probably has something to do with New England’s oppressive humidity, everyone’s oppressive air conditioning, the fact that I walk in and out of both all day, and the cat that’s been sleeping on my head for the last week while my boyfriend was out of town. Also, my debaucherous drinking probably hasn’t been helping much. But at least I’ve had a chance to catch up on some local news. And, I admit it, I’m totally fascinated with the Worcester baby-snatching.
Is this national news? I’m assuming it is. But in case you haven’t heard, a woman named Julie Corey stands accused of killing her pregnant friend and then claiming the baby as her own after ripping it out of the dead woman. The victim, Darlene Haynes, was found dumped in a closet, and Corey was later arrested at a New Hampshire homeless shelter. Staff at the shelter heard the report about the murder, and questioned the appearance of the baby’s umbilical cord, which had been tied off with a ribbon.
While baby-snatching’s not actually unheard-of, a couple of points in this case are particularly interested. According to the very terribly-written account in the Worcester Telegram, which has been edited for readability since yesterday, it seems that both women had occupied the same apartment, though it’s not clear whether they ever lived there at the same time. Also, the downstairs neighbor of the victim is convinced that both women really were pregnant, and that there’s now a missing baby. The child is now the property of the state, since the mother had a restraining order against the father and hadn’t seen him for months before the child was born. But, in a way, maybe the most lurid detail is that the alleged kidnapper/murderer tried to flee the homeless shelter after she caught a nurse taking cameraphone shots of the newborn. (more…)
How can I be expected to sleep when it’s so hot and humid in my apartment? And, perhaps more importantly, when there are naked paintings of the president and his wife holding top hats and riding unicorns through the sky?
[via Wild Ammo; h/t Facebook]
This song is the reason why PhD programs in gender studies exist. How can you explain these two minutes of ear candy without years of research and in less than two hundred pages? I ask you.
It’s brought to you courtesy of the Taylor Sisters, another Australian act I came across while haunting Youtube the other morning. Originally it was done by the Cookies, who got to #33 on the American pop chart with it. (You can hear it on imeem.) Neither version is actually very memorable, though it’s led me to spend two full days trying to figure out if 36-21-35 is as crazy a measurement as I think it is.
Two Providence-area radio types recently interviewed a bunch of folks about their worst job experiences, and then made an audio documentary about the results. (Rhode Island has one of the highest unemployment rates in the country, by the way.) The resulting effort, That Job Sucked Anyway, premiered last week. It was mixed in front of a live audience, but now it’s available online through the Public Radio Exchange. (You can hear me in there, although they didn’t actually include the story about my worst job.) The results are kind of hilarious, although you can tell every single story caused its teller lots of misery and pain at the time.
You can listen to it here. You have to register to hear it, but it’s free.
Today:
terry richardson peeing
female pop chart one hit wonders of the
nude joe rogan
popinjays “vote elvis”
j.f.k. jr. naked
silje nes
cult prostitutes
horrible tattoos
rhode island underage dancer
Yesterday:
gabe saporta bi?
kim deal young
liveblog eurovision final
chhom nimol
david rakoff july 2009 (more…)
