Bride of Frankenstein
A Bride of Frankenstein in the Fairfax District in Los Angeles. For more of my photos, follow me on Instagram.
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A Bride of Frankenstein in the Fairfax District in Los Angeles. For more of my photos, follow me on Instagram.
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A selfie from 2011, when I was living in Austin, Texas. For more of my photographs, follow me on Instagram.
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I really loved Susan Meiselas’ Mediations. It provides a wonderful overview of her career, development as a photographer, and efforts to rebalance the power dynamics between photographer and subject. I particularly enjoyed the essay by Eduardo Cadava, which manages to be both personal and theoretical. Recommend.
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An adult movie actress poses on a North Hollywood set, 2001. For more of my photos, follow me on Instagram.
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Adult actress with script, Los Angeles, Calif., 2017 | Photo credit: Susannah Breslin
An adult actress reads her script before shooting her scene. For more of my photos, follow me on Instagram.
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This short story was written by me and originally published in Opium Magazine in 2003.
When all the men were gone, that was when the women realized they were sorry. It had been a long time coming, the women saw in hindsight. One by one, the men had left, the woman recalled. The men had their briefcases at their sides, their suitcases on their leashes, their luggage strapped across the widest parts of their shoulders. "Goodbye!" the men had called out to the women. The women should have known. At first, the women had been happy. Now, they had time to shop at strip malls, and get their nails polished in pink or peach, and talk to each other about each other across the freed up phone lines. They had all the time in the world in a world without men. "Hello!" the women screamed out to each other across the deserted city streets. Inside their homes, the women cooked TV dinners for one, and sat down on toilet seats without checking first, and figured out how to use all the remote controls. Eventually, they even got into the White House, and learned how to kill cows for one another, and changed each other's tires by the sides of the roads. A long time after all the men were gone, when the women had settled down into their lives at last, the women sat there like that for one day, and they were content. The next day, though, the women began to fidget, and several of them scratched their heads, and a couple of them yawned. In the darkness of their closets, and the isolation of their cars, and back behind their mildewing shower curtains, the women whispered to themselves, "Those men, they weren't so bad." And the women began to wonder if the men being gone was not such a good thing, after all. Too late, the women decided, it was.
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Really enjoyed The Last Showgirl. Pamela Anderson and Jamie Lee Curtis are wonderful. Sweet, atmospheric.
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The first time I read Chester Brown’s Paying for It was around the time it was originally published, I believe. I decided to buy a new copy and reread it when I heard that the woman who had been Brown’s “last girlfriend” before he started paying for it had directed a movie adaptation of the book. I seem to remember liking the book more the first time I read it. This time I found it kind of grim and sort of ick. I write about a fair amount of stuff related to this subject matter, and I even ran a website for a year where I posted anonymous emails men wrote to me about paying for it, but this comic is so dark and weirdly dissociated and lacking in any kind of empathy that I read it faster than usual just to get it over with. If you don’t know anything about paying for it or why guys pay for it or the politics of paying for it (particularly in Canada, Brown’s country of origin), this book may be of interest. Also, the drawings are cool. But to the Brown on these pages, sex workers are receptacles to be judged, used, and discarded. That take is retrograde, boring, and depressing.
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Image credit: Ben Amare
In this edition of The Reverse Cowgirl Roundup: things heat up on the beach in Fort Lauderdale, a sex worker breaks down “romance labor,” a former adult star reveals her most intimate procedures, a lauded lenswoman gets censored, and more. Hit the Subscribe button to get all the sex news that’s fit to print in your inbox.
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Ten Days in a Mad-House: A Graphic Adaptation, written by Brad Ricca, illustrated by Courtney Sieh, and based on the book by Nellie Bly, is an absolutely astonishing work that brings to life the terror, shame, and seemingly inescapable horror of being trapped in an abusive system. I’ve read the original Ten Days and I’m an investigative journalist, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. This book is a masterful adaptation of an original work as imaginative and evocative as the graphic adaptation of Paul Auster’s City of Glass. Sieh’s illustrations are especially moving, as she conjures up the faces of the women trapped in the asylum’s hell.
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The latest edition of my newsletter, The Reverse Cowgirl, is out. In this week’s newsletter: a porn star zine featuring Asa Akira, erotic art tapestries, lusting for Luigi “The Adjuster” Mangione, and more. (Subscribe)
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I reread Shine Shine Shine by Lydia Netzer. Full disclosure: Lydia is my dear friend. Other full disclosure: This book is an absolute marvel. I love everything about this book: its lyrical prose, its daring and fearless tackling of Big Things (Life, Death, Reproduction), its insistence on what could be called optimism in the face of the chaos that is the universe. Sunny is bald! Maxon is going to the Moon! Bubber is hitting his head! And let’s not forget about the baby that’s coming or the double-life of Les Weathers. I highly, highly recommend.
Books I Read in 2024: Victory Parade, I Hate Men, My Friend Dahmer, The Crying of Lot 49, Machines in the Head, Big Magic, The Valley, End of Active Service, An Honest Woman, The Money Shot, Atomic Habits, Finding Your Own North Star, Crazy Cock, Sigrid Rides, Your Money Or Your Life, The Big Sleep, Eventually Everything Connects, Smutcutter, Shine Shine Shine, A Serial Killer’s Daughter, Confessions of a Serial Killer
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The Dominatrix Sleeps Tonight at Sherman Oaks Antique Mall. For more photos, follow me on Instagram.
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In this week’s edition of my newsletter, The Reverse Cowgirl Diaries, I’ve got a pole dancing mom, a substance that makes you hotter, a male porn star monologue, and more! Hit the button at the bottom of the newsletter to subscribe and get all the sex news that’s fit to print in your email inbox every week.
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In the early 2000s, I was working on a project I called The Fetish Alphabet. It was a series of flash fictions, all named for the letters of the alphabet, each letter representing a fetish. Over time, I had various of those stories published on various literary platforms. In 2003, Born Magazine published one: “C Is for Conjoined Twins.” I don’t quite recall how it worked, but the idea was the site was coupling texts by writers with multimedia creators, and the text and multimedia were combined into one cool result. My story was turned into a Flash-based (I believe) … I don’t know what to call it but artwork sounds about right … by the French artist Rolito. Thanks to the Wayback Machine, you can see the interactive, animated original story here. (This interactive work is also cited in Donna Leishman’s “The Flash Community: Implications for Post-Conceptualism.”)
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