Nothing is quite so refreshing as the epidermal sensations of a new hoodie. All day long I delighted in the bird down warmth that hovered around my forearms, the billowy, pillowy goodness that encased my ribs, and the occassional femme-y softness when the hood brushed my cheek. Soon I will emblazon this kid's size black dustjacket with the lippy, butch face of Kathy Acker.
I set aside Ladders to Fire for a moment, while I currently read PoMoSexuals: Challenging Assumptions About Gender and Sexuality, edited by Carol Queen. I'm halfway done in two days, it's so fucking terrific. It creates in me the aspiration to faghagdom that Carol Queen so well embodies. It also gives me a voracious hunger for gay porn. Don't get me wrong though, it's not just about gay men, it's about the space between identities, and the feelings and desires that identity politics exclude us from and from us. A queer must-read.
I set aside Ladders to Fire for a moment, while I currently read PoMoSexuals: Challenging Assumptions About Gender and Sexuality, edited by Carol Queen. I'm halfway done in two days, it's so fucking terrific. It creates in me the aspiration to faghagdom that Carol Queen so well embodies. It also gives me a voracious hunger for gay porn. Don't get me wrong though, it's not just about gay men, it's about the space between identities, and the feelings and desires that identity politics exclude us from and from us. A queer must-read.
VIEW 27 of 27 COMMENTS
I unpacked my books this week and came across two copies of Ladders to Fire, which I haven't read since I was 15. It was creepy. One was given to me by my first love/lover. One I stole from my mother. It was signed "Love Garrett" -- he was her best friend at the time and has recently become her lover. For some reason the whole thing made me feel a little ill.