All articles, tagged with “eyeblinks”

snow white, hooks, apples

In August of 2007, I got to help put on her final performance piece for her studies at the California Institute for Integral Studies. The piece was, well, I’ll let her describe:

“Snow White Lies in Wait” was meant to explore the evolution of myth as a community building tool designed to reflect and adapt to the lives of the tellers, to a static medium (i.e. through books and movies) appropriated by the aristocratic bourgeoisie as a didactic tool used to impart moral lessons and capitalist ideology. The piece involved hanging 20 apples from hooks pierced through my legs.
Yours truly and Melissa Gira did gofer and photo/video work, while two professional piercers handled the more delicate aspects of the performance.

Just in case the last bit didn’t register: this photoset involves blood, needles, and hooks in flesh. (Also the abuse of unsuspecting produce.) There’s no actual nudity, but I’m guessing it’s probably not worksafe in most cases regardless. And did I mention the flesh-hooks? If that sort of thing is unpleasant for you, for the love of god pass on.

the gay on parade

Well, it happened again. This time, a problem with the graphics card on my desktop machine at home that I kept not having the time to deal with led to about nine months’ worth of photos — just shy of 500 images — piling up on the camera. I’ll try not to dump all of them here at once.

First up: the 2007 San Francisco Pride Parade. Since watching the parade had been kind of underwhelming in 2006, this time I actually bestirred myself to march with the BiPolyPaganBurningmanPartridge&PearTree contingent. Verdict: I’m still queer, apparently. SubVerdict: the cutoff jean-shorts that looked really cute on me in 1997 have been ruined forever by Arrested Development. Sic transit gloria. Anyway:

over the golden gate


Last weekend, Josh, Miranda and I took a bicycle ride from the Embarcadero, through the Marina district and Presidio, over the Golden Gate Bridge and into Sausalito.

This may come as a shock to some, but it’s a pretty picturesque ride.

A few more photos behind the cut…

On your marks…


Every May, there’s a serious 1012-kilometer race held in San Francisco, starting downtown and heading over the middle of the city (and up some serious hills) to end at Ocean Beach. Serious runners from from around the world to compete…

…and nobody pays a damn bit of attention to them, because after the runners come the hundreds and hundreds of people in homemade costumes (or no clothes at all), pulling floats, kegs and portable tiki bars, setting up impromptou profesisonal wrestling matches, and generally indulging in the sort of semi-organized silliness that San Francisco is famous for.

I hear somebody won the race. I have no idea who it was.

New Orleans, April 2007


Well, it’s really too late at this point for a proper trip writeup, but here’s my quick takeaway:

Go visit New Orleans, really. It’s going to be years before the refinery and shipping jobs come back, if they ever do. For now, what’s keeping the city going is construction work and tourism. Everyone we spoke to, whether a random stranger or a local friend (hi !) was unequivocal on this point: Tell your friends we’re open for business. The city is still recovering, yes, but it’s also still alive, vibrant, beautiful and worthy of your interest. It’s going to be touch and go for a few years — they really, really need enough calm hurricane seasons to outlast the Bush administration — so going now increases the chances of it still being there to go to in the future.

“Dressing up” means something different down there. Years of going to punk and goth clubs in NYC and SF left me woefully unprepared for what the rest of the country does by way of “dressing up for a night out.” We went to see the Rebirth Brass Band at the justifiably famed Tipitinas (an awesome show, complete with an unscheduled appearence by a group of Mardi Gras Indians), and I foolishly thought that my normal clubbing get-up of black jeans and a leather jacket would be perfectly appropriate. Wrong. There were, I swear, multiple women in 4” heels and day-glo empire-waist dresses. There were also boys in docksiders, the less said about which the better.

Dear god the food. I don’t think I have ever eaten as consistantly well in any city that I have ever been to in my life, Paris included. It wasn’t a surprise that Jacques Imo and the Commander’s Palace instantly rocketed onto my top-ten-meals-of-all-time list, but the random cheap street eats were just phenomenal as well. I still have half of a Verdi Mart muffelata carefully sectioned into eighths and bagged in my freezer, and have been rationing it out to myself over the last six weeks. Also, I am going to hell for this, but turtle soup turns out to be astoundingly good. Mmmmmm…reptile…

Bourbon Street at night is like a Pride Parade for drunken straight people. Amusing to watch, but you couldn’t pay me to be female and anywhere near it around Mardi Gras.

Really, you should go. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking in equal turns, and it might be gone tomorrow.

A few more of my favorite photos behind the cut…

down in a hole

The old National Guard Armory in San Francisco’s Mission District had sat idle for over 40 years. It passed from buyer to buyer and plan to plan: condos, offices, dot-com datacenter: all failed to do anything with the building in the face of withering neighborhood opposition.

…until now. In early 2007, Kink.Com, a proud (and very, very profitable) purveyor of S&M-themed internet smut, bought the Armory for a relative pittance from the previous dejected developer.

Leaky pipes? Long, echoing, forboding hallways? Dank, ill-lit basements? All terrible problems for the would-be real-estate mogul, but a match made in heaven for the new owner: minimal upgrades were necessary to make it into the dream dungeon.

On February 23rd, Kink.Com held their regular Friday happy hour at the Armory for the first time, and were gracious enough to invite friends and family of their employees along to tour their new home and take copious pictures of what for the last few decades has been one of San Francisco’s most hidden landmarks.

A few more of my favorites behind the cut…

that's water: an underground river
A river runs through it…

2007-02-23 21.34.07
Any resemblance to the Half-Life games is entirely coincidental

I feel cleaner already!
I feel cleaner already!


so you got me in a coma…

File under: “interesting ways to spend a weekend that are hard to explain to your parents.” Allen Falkner and the crew at spent a long weekend in San Jose piercing people with large fishing hooks and then hanging them from the hooks. was there to do a “coma” suspension (and geeze, how many people under the age of 30 even remember that movie?), and I took copious pictures.

Not strictly work-unsafe (there’s no actual nudity), but unless you work someplace really cool, this might freak out your coworkers. Also a bit of blood and, well, people hanging from hooks in their flesh, so if that sort of thing isn’t your cup of tea, best to give this one a wide berth.

The photo behind the cut is pretty cool and has no visible piercings, but is behind a cut anyway, just to be nice.


…now with 300% more gay parents


sf pride 2006
(145 Photos, click for full gallery)

So you may or may not have heard… there are a few gay people in San Francisco. And they throw a big parade every year. Allegedly a debauched, depraved event corrosive to traditional American values… but that must have been last year, because this year every other group was Gay Parents, and one time when I tried to make eye contact with a hot guy on a float it turned out to be our (pathologically heterosexual) mayor. I feel my morals were insufficiently weakened by this event and I demand a refund. Oh well, there were still some great costumes.


don’t say goodbye…

the worst hotel room in north america

In March of 2006, my girlfriend and I went to Rochester, NY, to visit some friends who were throwing a party that weekend.

Normally when we visit these friends, we stay at the “Towpath Motel”, which is a perfectly functional and well-maintained road lodge that is conveniently only a few blocks from our friends’ house.

This time, however, the Towpath was sold out, as was the nearest name-brand hotel, so we booked a room at what appeared to be the second-nearest option, another motor lodge called the “Aloha Hotel.”

Ladies and gentlemen: you do not want to stay at the Aloha Hotel in Rochester. I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that I have stayed at backpacker hotels in third-world countries that were cleaner, friendlier and better-maintained, not to mention better-smelling.

What follows is a quick tour of the many amenities offered by this fine institution, in the hopes that they will instruct you on the wisdom of making a timely reservation at any other facility, or just bringing a tent and a sleeping bag to the nearest national park, state park, city park or convenient overpass.

Sadly, the photos cannot convey the odor of stale sweat, cigarette smoke and institutional cleaning products, but if you douse a used sweatsock in ammonia and leave it in the corner of the room while you browse, you’ll just about have it.