fuzzylobsters' Journal
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Friday, May 22, 2009
Nothing cancerous looking in the areas they looked at, yay!
Current music: Rockin' Blues, Chris Montez (on pandora, bless it)
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
No, literally.
Well, metaphorically, it is kind of fun, as I usually find it, to slide in and out of a big torus. Viz:
But heat-specific: this is the third time I can recall having one of these things and each time, warmth spread, emanating from the place where I'm punctured, the iodine oozing up the veins of my arm.
Then, abruptly, there's been heat in my labia. Then this last scan, oddly, my earlobes warmed up as well. I don't recall if that happened the last couple times. I do recall that flush of hot to my loins. I didn't come this time, alas.
Tomorrow I see the radiation-type way expert MD to be told what, if anything, has decided to grow at an indecorous pace lately. It's damn, wrenchingly, blessedly nice to have health insurance.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
On May 31st, unfortunately I do not get to see this, about one of the authors I admire most, though I don't always find his stuff easy to read. You wouldn't know Delaney's mostly written science fiction by the film description, hmm. I got to meet him as a guest to a summer class I took some years ago at NYU with José Esteban Muñoz (catching up on all the college credit I lost while being cronically depressed.) Damn he was hot. May 31 | 7 pm
Screening of The Polymath
2007, USA, video, color, sound, 75 min.
Union Docs | 322 Union Avenue | Brooklyn, NY 11211
Follow Samuel Delany (author of The Motion of Light in Water) to a literary conference where his books are compared to Joyce and Melville, then accompany him on a cheerful, row-by-row tour of a typical porn theater. Fred Barney Taylor's The Polymath includes home movies of Delany's middle-class Harlem childhood, a crazy art film he directed in the early 70s, and priceless trivia, like the fact that he wrote two issues of Wonder Woman for DC Comics in which she abandoned her superpowers and became a feminist secret agent. Post-event discussion w/ filmmakers. $5 donation. Reservations suggested. Email bodega@uniondocs.org for details. But, yay, because I intend to see this at WOW, 59-61 East 4th street, East village NYC ! Tragic Magic
Sunday, May 31, 2009
8pm, $15 suggested
Silas Howard, Glenn Marla, and Heather Acs.
This motley crew traverses through a multi-media world of string theory, face masturbation, Hollywood & loopholes in the American dream.
Current music: "In Time", Sly and the Family Stone, via Pandora.com
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
My aunt Nancy died this past winter. My father's older sister, and his only surviving sibling. They weren't close - not since she moved out of their childhood home in 195something, actually, he said. I mentioned that I thought that he might feel a lot more alone in the universe, now, and he did look a bit saddened, when I said it. Today's his birthday and thus another reminder of death... yes, I will bring chocolate home with me tonight.
( the family curse )
But I was appointed the archive-prep person. Aunt Nancy retained a number of items of her New England ancestors, and in particular, her father's, who was a cornetist and librarian for John Philip Sousa. A minor figure of American music, and a bit like me, you might say that he was famous among those who knew of him. However, Grandfather was in just about the most respectable line of showbusiness. Unlike me. :D
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Way back in August of `08, there was a Rent Party at WOW, and I obliged with a little lipsinc and striptease. A queered up, safer sex Mae West, to the tune of "They call me Sister Honky Tonk".
The thoroughly talented Stacie Joy was there taking photos, viz:
and more!
Current mood: proud, also tense
Sunday, April 12, 2009
OR maybe you're not. If you, as I, have skipped the Easter Parade this year. I'm a sort of freelance pagan, and being wished a happy Easter by well-meaning paraders is irritating, but this is an opportunity to see some nifty costuming, and be seen. A bit sad at the lack, but not a huge matter, especially as my brother made waffles.
My best pal Christian, the instigator of my attending in the first place, has gone abroad, so I didn't bother. It had been our custom for, gee, I don't know, like a decade, to go to the Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue, NYC. This is not an actual parade, it's a few blocks barred from traffic so that people can mill about in their finest haberdashery. And I've sported some pretty snappy specimens of headgear, if I do say so myself - viz, my icon, one Easter with my trusty feathery effluence, sideburns, and my seersucker suit.
Here is some of the alleged background of the Parade. It leaves out another factor I've read of - class rivalry. The cream of society may've been showing off the latest fashions, but after a while the seamstresses and milliners and servants decided to flaunt their own versions, and lo, the bonnets grew more and more elaborate...
Somewhere along the line, perhaps in the 60s when hats became a non-necessity, some went in artsy, silly, and bizarre directions. Which brings me to a now-common Bonnet material - Peeps.
And, 155 other Peeps related links. I particularly like the ones with Science!
http://www.unlikelywords.com/2009/04/02/marshmallow-peeps-on-the-internet-a-study/
Thursday, April 9, 2009
I have a bunch of LJ entries I've been composing mentally, but haven't done posted a thing... Well, heck with performance anxiety, so what if I'm not-so-entertaining, perhaps. If you're bored, yer bored, you will of course skim or skip, dear reader. So, why worry too much? I tell myself. Here goes.
Actually I think I'll be copacetic with hitting my 40's.... When I do. I think. We shall see, in the event I live so long! ( The day after birthday taking stock, hmm.... )
The subject line of this post is owed to Jack Benny. Maybe I'll go enjoy some radio and video of him, in honor of turning 39!
Monday, March 16, 2009
OK, yes, I am somewhat driven by lust. To the extent that tomorrow I embark on a sort of reverse spring-break, to cold and rainy climes.
Torrid escapades may ensue in Milwaukee, with a dear former fuckbuddy, formerly of NYC, whom I haven't seen for, gee, 7 years? Ditto in Olympia, WA, with the splendid person I am calling the Duchess for lack of a better pet name. Perhaps an affectionate tag will emerge on this jaunt!
Is it a tour if I only have prospects of sex in two cities? I suppose I could cruise Seattle whilst I'm there on the evening of the 20th. Any recommendations, folks? Good sex parties? Any game at the Science Fiction museum?
Current mood:  stressed
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Hiya all - Yay! Back on the stage on Saturday March 7th, at WOW, in a number stole from usurped hijacked from inspired by my best (only) pal Christian Womyn's rendition of the Annie Lennox song, "Why". With genderfuck and messier props added. Is Lennox a diva, really? Debatable, perhaps. But the album is called that, so, what the hey. And I get to wear the big feather headdress I made as a white version of Lennox's outfit for the video, see above in my icon!
( full deets below, darlings )
Monday, January 12, 2009
Gee. and OMFGoodness. It's been some while since my last post. Hi.
I am moved to do so because my fabulous pandora.com station (programmed for early, short form funk and soul, exemplified by Sly and the Family Stone) just produced some Al Green. It was one of the songs played by the radiation techs as they zapped my lymphoma into oblivion. Full of Fire, indeed. [link to youtube clip of song]
So. Gratitude, and some wonder; for Memorial Sloan-Kettering, for music that helps get me through, for decent health insurance, for being, to my knowledge, un-afflicted by that or any other cancer, to date. For a host of things and some people also. (Oh, and slash fanfiction.) For not being/acting too debilitatingly addicted to said slash fanfiction. Mostly. Hanging in more or less at work, and I think doing pretty well with my Sweetie. I'm not near to optimal but I do feel some. Love and Happiness.
Current music: Sam & Dave, Hold On, I'm Comin'
Friday, October 31, 2008
Halloween is for amateurs. As I am accustomed to say, with some scorn.
However, I find myself no longer even a semi-pro. A dilettante, at best, at the pursuit of dressing-up-fancifully. I'm a bit sad about that.
Here is a picture of a anthropomorphic plum in a pumpkin costume, which I think jolly, which may cheer me up. And I might go watch the NYC Halloween Parade, as I gather there's often some ferociously creative garb, which may prove inspiring. Or may possibly inspire my shame-filled envy. Eh, I'm really not down as all that. Just mildly disappointed.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Title: She's Ever So Good, part 2 of ...?
Characters: Joyce Cooper, Leslie Tiller
Combos: Joyce and Leslie
Word Count: 2800 ish for this bit
Rating: Hardish R, I guess?
Disclaimer: Don't own `em.
ConCrit: Sought.
Summary: Joyce wants to keep Leslie's green fingers right here in Sandford.
Warnings: Tenses a-jumble, inadvertent Americanisms, women over 50 60 70 having the temerity to exist and get it on.
part one
( Joyce decided against any heat in the tumble dryer; )Joyce decided against any heat in the tumble dryer; the glue on those googly monkey eyes was none too secure. She ran through the possibilities and contingencies rapidly in her head as her hands automatically worked. She needed to check that the camera in the Castle Suite had a fresh videotape to it, in case Danny came back for a tender reconciliation. She wondered whether Angel would be quite as gung ho about imposing the Law as written if That Sort of Thing were still illegal. Probably would, the little fascist.
She didn't give a tinker's cuss what Danny got up to discreetly. Not that he hadn't been a damn fool in his time: Doris Thatcher wasn't the only one to scrummage with a rugby player while parked on that layby. She knew that, but no one else did except for his now-married teammate. And in recent years, Danny had kept it decently inactive, invisible, or at least well out of the county.
But a romance between Sandford policemen would bring it into the limelight. Bernard, on the night shift at the monitors, had reported how Angel had been coaxed into Danny's flat, and that he hadn't emerged until they both barreled blearily out at dawn. Joyce sensed the affection behind Angel's exasperation today at the fete. Not passion, perhaps, but there was Something there between them, and she prided herself at heading off Somethings at the pass, as Frank might say.
Perhaps removing an eye, an ear, a leg from the monkey would further their rift? No, for all Danny's boyish bloodthirst, he wasn't the sort to dismember a cuddly toy, and Angel would likely be suspicious. Perhaps bringing them together would be more productive? It might distract Angel from his dangerously persistent investigations, and keep Danny from drunkenly ramming his car into the fountain again. (Bernard kept matching stones and mortar to hand for repairs, and used them all too often.)
But she didn't know, exactly, how Angel with his Lon-don ways would behave, if successfully wooed, and that disturbed her. She was accustomed to knowing the personalities through and through and thus, knowing what what would happen. (The psychology of the individual, as that clever Mr. Wodehouse put it.) Might he resist all public displays but then turn around and register for civil partnership? She thought that would, after all, be acceptable to the Best Village judiciary board - the three men on it were That Way, of course, and of course decently behaved in public, as she thought Angel would also be.
But Danny already gazed at Angel with transparent adoration. If anything came of it, a smitten Danny would be - what was that term? `Gay as a window'. Joyce did not restrain a slight smirk and snort of amusement as she set the monkey in Angel's room and made sure the camera's line of sight wasn't blocked. Annette had already reported him staring at Angel's lips, and well South of there, whilst at the shop. Never one to restrain himself, he might break down Angel's reserve as well. And even if Angel resolutely trained Danny away from public indecency, the damage would already be done.
Joyce was well aware that the judges of the Best Village award had as broad and far-flung a gossip-detection net as she did, and that the most important ratings would not appear on the adjudicators' clipboards. Any rumors of policemen not only Like That but Flaunting It - well, those brown guileless eyes and big eager hands could sink all of NWA's efforts for Sandford, next year if not this.
If only she could read this outsider with her usual comfortable certainty. She knew the citizens of Sandford. Generations of knowledge, she practically breathed the breath of the lives around her. (And then there was her Stormy Day cache of choice scandalous footage, besides.)
His foreignness, his opacity was another mark against Angel: there were many. But she, for one, still hesitated to vote for his vanishment. The police force could only lose so many Sergeants before someone made a bit of a fuss.
She wondered if Frank was aware of what she was now fairly sure was budding romance. She rather doubted it. The Buttermans had always had a positive talent for missing the most desperately significant things under their noses. She remembered Irene's obvious despair, and later, Frank's utter bewilderment when they found her mangled Datsun Cherry.
Joyce took a moment to pray for God's mercy on Irene. She wasn't clear on whether her taking her own life was a mortal sin, and wasn't sure if the Anglican church was quite definitive on the matter, either... Shooter had sort of waffled with vague allusions to compassion for the individual's personal torment. Poor, poor Irene.
Still, it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Lord... the NWA had come of all that, surely a mitigating factor... Irene might be regarded as their patron saint, even a martyr of sorts for their cause. Please, Lord, forgive her her trespasses, if indeed she did wrong.
Joyce poured a tiny tipple more brandy out for Leslie and herself and called her attention back to what her old friend was saying (at some length), and the problem that Leslie herself now presented. It appeared that she remained ignorant of the sterner measures of the NWA's Caring Community Greater Good Subcommittee. Which would be quite the ideal state, of course, except that Leslie apparently thought she would be allowed to sell up and leave town. And for Buford Abbey, of all places.
==========================
Leslie - ... Eve, god rest her, might have given at least a tiny hint of how much my land is worth!
Joyce - Well she hasn't worked for you for some time.
Leslie - Well I suppose so. What is it - six, seven years? (shaking her head)
Joyce - (dryly) Ten.
Leslie - Joyce darling, whatever happened to the twentieth century?
Joyce - (a series of short laughs that jump up in increments to span about an octave and a half)
I feel I'm only up to about 1984 myself, dear, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you!
Leslie - (with a significant glance) I guess I haven't, hadn't, done much for her lately, true.
Joyce - (nearly spluttering on her brandy) You didn't!
Leslie - (chuckling with girlish evil) Of course not! I just liked her as scenery, she is - she was, god rest her - lovely to look at. Until she began to talk at least.
Joyce - (in an undertone) Or laugh.
Leslie - Not that she was much of a help, sneaking out early to have it off with that nasty Butcher bwoy.
Joyce - Which one?
Leslie - The nasty one with the beard, I'm always careful to get my cut of meat from the other.
Joyce - They do trade back and forth every year or so, did you not realize?
Leslie - (her mouth opens wide and then she covers it with her hand, while smiling incredulously) Oh! Oh!! Go on!
Joyce - (nodding slightly) Yes, Bernard noticed it, they always come back from holiday with one very short beard!
Leslie - I wouldn't have thought them that clever! So I don't know which one I happened upon banging her up the arbor!
(Joyce laughs, amused but also uncomfortable)
Leslie - She was only the slightest bit embarrassed.
Joyce - Ah! (shaking her head) The shameless way she carried on with Blower.
Leslie - (a touch of sadness, mixed with reproof at Joyce speaking ill of the dead.) God rest them.
Joyce - ... Amen.
(Joyce stands, putting away a file or two, some paperwork from the hotel accounts, to fill the moment. She sits again and places her hand over Leslie's on the table.)
Joyce - ...I'm so sorry, dear, that we couldn't do the fancy dress contest this year.
Leslie - (squeezing her hand slightly. Her tone is light, but a bit laboriously so) Oh, well, we haven't teamed up for a while, now, have we, I didn't expect it, really, anymore.
Joyce - It's been so busy
Joyce and Leslie - With the Watch.
Leslie - Yes.
=================
1959 The year they had upped the annual fete fancy dress contest ante. Somehow, they had seized the time to work up an actual performance, a lip sinc to Doris Day's Pillow Talk. [link is to a youtube recording of the song] A quarter of the town had gotten over to Cheltenham or Bristol to see the picture, and very likely half of them owned a Doris Day record. It was essentially a given for the blue ribbon.
They got themselves up in pajamas and robes, quite like to those in the movie. Joyce's hair was already pretty similar to Dor's Day's, when she did it up with all the curlers and spray, as she much preferred but rarely had the opportunity to do. Leslie had slicked hers back, puffed up at front, then added a bit of boot blacking, and was well enough like Rock Hudson to be identifiable. Bernard had grudgingly helped with detaching the telephones from their walls to use as props.
(They start on opposite sides of the stage, facing away from each other, holding pillows as if sleeping standing up. With each phrase, they come a bit closer.)
Pillow talk
Pillow talk...
(They get laughs at the lines that "Rock Hudson" unexpectedly takes "must be a pillow-talkin' boy for me", limp wristed as in the movie where he plays homosexual to lure Doris into wanting to prove him otherwise.)
We hope she's right, she'd better be right, there must be a boy
(Without quite making contact, Joyce somehow could feel the presence of Leslie's strong back, inches away. Finally turning out to face the audience, sleeves of their robes just touching)
There must be a boy
There MUST be a boy!!
(Then almost, but not quite, looking each other in the eye)
There MUST!!
(Then hanging up simultaneously with a gentle click. The crowd applauds heartily. Joyce, curtsies to the crowd as Leslie bows, basking.)
======================
1959 (The pub, at the post-fete congratulatory convening) Joyce has a blue prize ribbon pinned to her costume, as does Leslie, who is finishing off a half-pint, their heads together.
Joyce - (speaking over her shoulder to Bernard, as she practically shoves Leslie out the door) We're going to plot how to pull it off again next year, Bernard!
(Bernard gives an acknowledging wave, mustache deep in the foam of a pint.)
(They stumble around the church, in the dusky gloaming, in a light mist. They're a bit tipsy, and in some part of her mind Joyce notes that it's much easier to walk on the moist ground in slippers than in heels.)
Leslie - How are we to top that next year?
(Doris Day pushes Rock Hudson up against the well-shadowed wall by the churchyard.)
Joyce - (huskily) A syncronized dance number?
(She presses against Leslie)
Joyce - Ending with a passionate kiss.
(Dusty Springfield's "Just a Little Lovin" [link to youtube of the song, for a soundtrack to this section] begins, the opening string instrumental quiet in the background under the spoken lines)
Leslie - (stagily, imitating Rock Hudson, in the spirit of Hollywood banter) I see you're keen to start rehearsals.
Joyce - We do have a title to defenmmph.
(Leslie presses up into a kiss, slipping her thigh between Joyce's )
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
Beats a cup of coffee
For starting off the day
1969 (same spot, ext. church) Dusty Springfield (Joyce), pressing her palm flat against Leslie's chest and gripping her hair to pull her head to one side, runs her tongue up the arched neck of Janice Joplin (Leslie) , getting a bit of feather boa that she has to wipe away, grimacing without amusement, though Leslie laughs.
Just a little lovin'
When the world is yawnin'
Makes you feel wake up feeling
Good things are coming your way
1950 (same spot, ext. church) Joyce as Disney's Cinderella, Leslie as Margo Channing from All About Eve, just clinging to each other around shoulders and waist, and breathing hard.
This old world
Wouldn't be half as bad
It wouldn't be half as sad
1978 (a few feet away, in a sheltered doorway of the church, as the rain is pissing down) Joyce, as a rose, traces along Leslie (a hollyhock)'s collarbone with a finger, evoking a shiver, as she slides her hand down Leslie's side.
If each and everybody in it had, yeah
Just a little lovin'
1958 (interior of a house.) Joyce, in everyday garb, is holding her hand to the brow of a wan, dark-circled eyed child, who is falling asleep. Leslie, dressed as Zorro, is leaning in the doorframe. Joyce rises, walks, with a small nod to her.
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
That little extra somethin'
(outside, the garden shed) Leslie standing, with mask on, front of her costume open, Joyce, kneeling on a gardening stool, running her tongue up the curve of the underside of her breast.
To kinda see them through
Nothing turns the day on
Really gets it dawnin'
1989 (Leslie's shop, out of sight of the big windows.) A clock is visible in the background, just after midnight) Joyce, as Marlene Dietrich in a tuxedo, shirt already open, is unzipping Leslie's trousers, in costume as Garbo as Queen Christina. She leans in for a kiss and they stop, exasperated by the big collar thing that Leslie has on, Leslie laughing while fumbling with the fastenings, Joyce merely impatient.
Like a little bit of lovin'
From some lovin' someone
like you
1965 (Churchyard again, this time around the corner of a crypt) Joyce, dressed as Maria from The Sound of Music, has her hand up under the habit of Leslie, as the Mother Abess, whose head is tossed back in an estacy almost worthy of St. Teresa.
[horn solo...]
1953 (On the top of the church tower) Joyce, as Tinkerbelle, argues with Leslie, as Peter Pan, against one of the walls, kissing her angrily. Her purse, a little clutch with a metal handle clanks against the stone and chips off a bit.
1941 (yard outside the church) Leslie, 6, in a hastily assembled St. George costume made of scrap metal and old clothes, which will be donated for the war effort after the fete, stands in the center of a crowd. She stares shyly out as an older woman gently pulls on her arm to urge her to move along and allow the next contestant on. Joyce, 9, as Boadicea, got up in old sheets and garden trimmings, prepares to enter the `stage' area, but Anne Aaronson steps the hem of her trailing gown and she goes sprawling. Joyce turns to rise, furious, but the anger is only visible for a second, and then she scrambles to her feet, laughing.
This old world
Wouldn't be half as bad
It wouldn't be half as sad
1997 (Interior of Leslie's apartment over the shop) Leslie as Dolly the sheep is half-lying back on the pillows of her bed, looking very receptive, and Joyce, as a china Arcadian shepardess/genetic engineer, has the hook end of a shepharding crook latched into the sheep costume and pulls the velcro fastenings open abruptly. Leslie gives her a laughing, head shaking look that conveys how simultaneously ridiculous and exciting this is to her. Joyce starts speculatively running her fingers over the smooth straight end of her crook, and Leslie covers her mouth in amused, incredulous nervousness as Joyce licks it.)
If each and everybody in it had...
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
1974 (In a refreshment tent at the fete, surrounded by a crowd.) Leslie as Katisha and Joyce as Yum-Yum from The Mikado, in yellowface make up, and somewhat vivid, slightly psychedlic versions of Japonaiserie for the kimonos. Leslie is doing one of her prolonged monologues, Joyce raises her fan and taps Leslie's lips lightly, and there is just a moment of a charged look before Joyce drops her eyes demurely.
Just a little lovin'
When the world is yawnin'
2004 (Church fete, in a tent with a stage/platform for the fancy dress contest.) Leslie and Joyce are in everyday clothes, Leslie in the audience, Joyce holding a clipboard with the contestant roster, and looking on with dismay as top prizes are awarded to a pair on the tarts and vicars theme. A man, her grandson, Thomas Cooper, as a pregnant nun, and a woman, Sylvie Paver, as a bishop with an erection visible under the robe.)
(Leslie and Joyce catch each others' eye, Leslie with amused dismay, Joyce a very cold version of that dismay.)
Just a little bit of lovin' ah
Oh, in the morning
(Joyce looks at Frank Butterman, also standing in the audience by the edge of the stage, dressed as a Sherriff as usual, exchanging a grim, purposeful look. Joyce gives the slightest nod.)
(Shift to an accelerating sequence of quick cuts, still bopping back and forth through the years and the fancy dress themes that they have donned)
Nothing turns the day
1957 (Joyce's bathroom.) They are both shedding `cannibal' outfits that are a strange combination of polynesian and cartoon african, bones in ponytails and shrunken `heads' strung around their necks, and are giggling in dismay, at the smearing of the blacking-up they have all over their bodies.
on, Really gets
(Bathroom, overlooking bath.) Leslie is kneeling in a few inches of sudsy water, leaning forward, forearms against the rim of in the bath, soapy and partially washed off. A clean flannel is crammed in her mouth, and she is rubbing back against Joyce's thigh, who kneels behind her. Joyce is mostly scrubbed off, but is getting rapidly schmutzed up again as she reciprocates the rubbing, sliding action. Joyce begins pinching Leslie's nipple as a knock at the door causes their heads shoot to up in alarm.)
it dawnin'
1999 (Leslie's flat above the shop) Joyce, as Disney's version of Cinderella's fairy godmother, seated on the high, stiffly upholstered chinz-covered couch, sets down a cup of tea, narrowing her eyes, with a trace of a smile emerging, as Leslie as Disney's version of Snow White's evil stepmother, somewhat nervously, sits down on a small padded stool, which she then lowers using a pneumatic valve at the side, until her head is much closer to Joyce's lap level. Joyce gives her an amused and impressed glance, mouthing "Wonderful." Leslie, reassured, lets her hands slide up Joyce's skirt, tongue following.
Make a little
1967 (Behind the shed in Leslie's mother's garden, by a bower heavy with morning glories, which are closed, now, of course, in the dark.) Joyce, as an 'Indian-Indian raja-ess', in brownface, black wig and a sari, which has become partiallly unwound and is trailing on the ground, and the rhinestone glued to her forehead has come off and landed in her cleavage. Leslie, as a `Red Indian' similar makeup plus `war paint' and same model wig, braided differently, has her back against the shed, and Joyce has both her hands trapped with her left hand. Leslie's fringey trousers are pooled around her moccasins. Joyce is lightly, tormentingly, rubbing the handle of Leslie's fakey tomahawk against the 'brave's' crotch.
bit of lovin'
1995 (Leslie's flat, dark bedroom, just enough light to make out). Joyce, as Jessica Fletcher of Murder She Wrote is lying back, slacks and pants off and legs parted, eyes screwed shut, breath heaving, arms spread and gripping at the sheets. Her prop typewriter is on the side table. The bed is high, and there's a chest on one side and a chair on the other to rest her feet. In a chair placed so that she can lean between Joyce's legs without straining, sits Leslie as Miss Marple, face buried, tongue and fingers busy.
It's so
1970 (Church grounds) Joyce, as Elizabeth Taylor-esque Cleopatra, stares with quiet fury and a very blank face at Leslie, as the historical Cleopatra (Macedonian greek, and quite possibly blonde), walks away across the lawn, laughing with a handsome woman dressed as Hawkeye.
good, it's so good (fading out)
1948 (the yard at the side of the church, in the dusk) Joyce, as Alice is being chased by Leslie, as the White Rabbit. The camera follows them as they run. As Leslie catches up to Joyce, Joyce turns and semi-tackles the younger girl, just as the image blurs to a moving cut across a gravestone, back to
1959 (behind the church) as Doris Day and Rock Hudson)
Leslie - (breaking the kiss) I have it - Next year's winning strategy - Full frontal nudity!
Joyce - (a shocked and dismayed intake of breath, held for two moments, before an exhalation, dissolving into giggles, her eyes still uneasy, holding a note of sincere disapproval) Oh, you are awful!
===========================
mini homage-o-meter
[1] Pillow Talk, from the movie of the same name, starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson.
[2] Blue pajama ensembles from Pillow Talk:
 
[3] "Just A Little Lovin" from Dusty In Memphis
[4] Dusty Springfield, also nifty fan site
[5] Janice Joplin
[6 ] Disney version of Cinderella
[7 ] Bette Davis as Margo Channing in All About Eve
[8] Guy Williams as Zorro, probably from The Sign of Zorro (1958)
[9] Dietrich in a Tux (right) from Morroco
[10] Garbo, as Queen Christina. Leslie's costume combines the standing collar of Christina's formal attire with trousers and boots from the hunting scene.
[11] Dolly the sheep
[12] Think Boucher's arcadian shephardess (right) with a lab coat and test tube added. Joyce's artistic grandson suggested the genetic engineer idea and Dolly as the specific sheep part of this ensemble. Joyce made sure that this youngster left Sandford right quick, though he didn't need much prompting.
[13] Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote
[14] Angela Lansbury as Miss Marple, in The Mirror Crack'd
[15] Alice in Wonderland and
[16] the White Rabbit (from the original Tenniel illustrations)
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Getting my Lobster Dance duds on - and off - once again!
Come to the MONSTER MASH! This Saturday October 4th @10!
HyperGender Burlesque Presents: Monster Mash!
Monsters come to life.
You feared them and loved them, they were under your bed or in your closet, now the beds are broken and closets are open and monsters are released upon the world - nude!
Starring the SPOOKY and GOREY talents of:
Velocity Chyaldd as the Blair Witch!
Fem Appeal as The Creature From The Black Lagoon!
Lily Stitches as The ZOMBIE
It's A Little Stormy as FRANKENHOOKER
Sir Real as The LOBSTER MONSTER that came from the beach!
JZ Bich as The MUMMY
N as LESTAT (The Famous Anne Rice Vampire)
with a special video presentation by N to intro our Americana show inspired by the movie A Clockwork Orange!
Pre show Music to get your groove by N
FREE LUBE AND CONDOM GIVEAWAYS courtesy of NYC Condoms!
HOSTED BY N & JZ Bich!
WARNING: The show is rated NC-17!
The monsters come to life only on October 4th at
WOW Cafe Theatre
59-61 E. 4th Street, 4th Floor
NYC
$10 Cover
For Reservations call: 917-591-6185
Doors Open at 9:30
Show begins at 10
Current mood: tired, yet lustful
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Hmm, I just went public, as it were, on the Telltale Games message boards about having written Sam & Max porns... now I'm wondering if this was a big error, as the owners of the characters may feel that they now "have to" respond by insisting the material be removed.
Not that they're Disneyesque about copyright. Indeed, they encourage their fans to `create your own' comic strips by filling in words to pre-prepared images... but that's on their own site, under their own control, and from what I see, minus anything very suggestive. I believe they vet submissions before they're seen by the public.
Hmmm.... time to delete my comments, or edit to make them a bunch more oblique, at least? Arrrgh!
(oddly enough I'm almost finished with a non-, or possibly pre - porny Sam and Max story. M-preg, though, so that should be enough to freak out the peturbable! Anyone interested to beta?)
----update - I went in and removed any suggestion of the specific url or the smut level.
----`nother update - a moderator locked the thread, with a request that `we keep it cleaner and with fewer personal attacks'. There were, indeed, some personal attacks - tho only one by me, and phrased admirably mildly on my part, I thought. :)
Haven't heard anything else. except a personal mssg from another poster to say `not everyone on this board is a homophobe' - nice to know.
---- annnnnd now they've deleted the thread altogether! Hmmph.
Current mood: apprehensive
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
About to return from Atlanta. Got a few lovely second-hand garments, saw a well-nigh amaazing show by Scott Turner Schofield, and generally had a fucktastic time.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Holy Gosh, it appears I'm actually doing it - headin' to Atlanta on Saturday for what will quite possibly be some torrid interludes with the Dutchess!
Upon my return, I'll be appearing at a WOW Cafe Theatre fundraiser for further hotness. Definitely on Friday 8/22, not sure about the Saturday 8/23rd...
In the show and in the spanking booth. :)
I haven't taken the stage for, like, a year. O_O
Hmm, something new, or ought I to pull out a tried and true number and call it a classic?
Any requests?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
It wouldn't be summer withouuut them!
Anyone else recall that commercial of my youth? Ah, the power of the jingle. I forget what store it was for, but I do know that I just ate an entire half pint of ripe, ripe raspberries from the Lincoln Sq. greenmarket, and they almost made me weep and quake with joy. Well, I emitted some moans, anyway. Golly.
Current mood: is it late again?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Sir Real (Ms.)
is what I'm known as. It's my creative name, generally, except where some gol-dratted person has beat me to it as a user name on whatever venue or forum. Briefly stated, I've added two chapters to Sam & Max fic "Morphing". So, er, check em out if you like. Critique leavened with kindness is cherished.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Title Pieces of Paul, part 4 of ?
Combos: implied Clive/Graham, and eventually, not yet, Clive/Graham/Paul V.
Rating: PG, due to cussin', innuendo, inadvertent American jive, and peril
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only, the creative endeavor, thoughts, emotions, actions or orientations of any real persons mentioned are totally made up, here. Darned if I know what these persons are concocting for reals, in any case they and/or the production company own, at the least, the title, character names, and scenario.
Word Count: 700ish, this bit.
Summary: early drafts of scenes from Simon and Nick's next movie, "Paul" !?!
Warnings: Probably overdid the Britishisms, consarn it. Please let me know.
As previously mentioned,
Friday, July 18, 2008
Cross posted at ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) sandfordpolice , and in response to that dandy community's art and the fluff challenges! and because they gave Nicholas a cat. G-ish rated. The `ish' for wandering digits.
Current mood:  tired
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