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Farewell, 2013

2013 was the name of the truck that hit and dragged me down a road. We’re not going to dwell on the downsides. We’re going to focus on the good parts because it’s New Year’s Eve and regardless of what we tweet or experience or capture on our iPhones, time moves forward. This too shall pass, whatever it is.

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Photo Post

 

The Mayhems:

Our apartment had a mold situation “blossom” out of control. It pretty much ate up our lives and health. Let me tell you: Black Mold is awful! It made us sick, probably killed our cat Floozy, was a disaster for everything we owned, and we were kinda homeless for awhile looking for a friendly place for us and our (surviving) cat and dog. We did valiant battle against mold and junked most of our belongings and found new lodging.

We also presented the PSIgasm at South by Southwest . I was profiled at Nerve. Appeared at Naughty Natural.  Went to Merida, Mexico in the Yucatan. I also stopped by the Products are Hard conference in San Francisco.  I’m also still trying to plan a wedding party. Talk about stress city! It’s been a hectic month and it took a lot out of us. It was great to see Texas and Merida even if it meant having last minute cancelled flights, blizzards, lost baggage (TWICE!!!!), hotel fires, travel snafus, and other insanity.

Enjoy the photos and I’ll be working on writing some insane bullshit for you all to enjoy.

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Anarchists & Zines

street grafitti reading 'exercise empathy' on a light pole

So out in Oakland I made my way out to the East Bay Anarchist Book Fair which was a nice treat for a rainy day. I really value talking about social resistance and sharing literature and music and words with one another. The Humanist Hall in Oakland was the hosting venue who are tolerant hippies ready to take on the manarchists and chain smoking in the back.  It was also nice to match some faces to names and to get to re-know a friend I from college. It was strange and wonderful to realize that Laika Fox and I were taking our clothes off in Rocky Horror way back in the day. There’s something supremely awesome about crossing paths again and realize that political wheels in the mind can also be directed into swiveling hips and shaking tits.

This was a cool spread and I really do enjoy being in far left spaces. A lot of this material is niche and harder to find because it doesn’t have mass distribution. It’s true that you can access most of these ideas and many of the zines and books online but it’s also really empowering to create a space to see that others are browsing, too. I picked up books on anarchist queers, I bumped into a Syringe Exchanger that I met years ago at an HIV test training. I had been the one to roleplay his first practice positive test disclosure to and I was the intimidating one who had already been doing it for a long time. I remembered him instantly. I was so proud that he was still fighting the good fight. I totally love and support syringe exchange and overdose prevention and naxolene distribution. Sensible drug policy, to me, has always included overdose prevention as a part of first aid and CPR training. This should be integrated into all of our emergency care models.

Bash Back & Self Defense

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Hairy Bitches: Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love My Pubes

Superbush!

I remember the first time I shaved my pubes. I was a teenager and I slid up on a counter and looked my boyfriend dead in the eyes to show my bare pussy. It was as though my smooth cunt was a tractor beam that had his eyes in a solid lock that was pulling him directly into the mothership. Shaving felt taboo, dangerous, and deliberately sexual. He adored it and even I ran my fingers and palm over my own flesh amazed at its sleekness.

Of course I never thought twice about shaving my armpits. At the first sign of hair I looked to the razor the same way one looked to Kotex at the first sign of menstrual blood. Being a woman meant shaving the armpits. It was a ritual for adults. It was instinctual. My pubic hair got to grow in but my pits never had that experience. Hairy arm pits meant that you were the the angry feminist type, probably a lesbian, and probably dirty.

The uniform at my all girls school called for knee-high stockings and a grey pleated skirt. It wasn’t uncommon that many of us would shave the gap between our stockings and hemline as a way to save both time and face for the school day. This lead to to the prank of “socking” someone; if you noticed the girl in front of you had neglected to shave her whole legs you would grab the tops of their stockings and pull them down to their ankles. One part beauty standard enforcement by shaming, another part the sublimation of something sexual we would probably get demerits for talking about aloud.

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