Sexual Consent the video.

I don't know who Dr. Ava Cadell is, but I first thought her downloadable Sexual Consent form was a joke. But then I read this:  Sexual Consent Form - Dr. Ava Cadell

All I can say is: Bring Back The Seventies.

Here is another article reaffirming my belief that biology trumps all. I touched much of this in my Salon.com article, The Gentlemanly Art of Spanking, some years back, but it is nice to hear from a woman, in a woman's voice.

How Feminism Ruined My Sex Life

An excerpt:

You know that stuff you’ve been reading in the girly magazines that tell you that women like to be romanced with candlelit dinners before you gently (gently!) make love to them by first giving them hours of oral pleasure and then softly (oh so softly!) penetrating them while staring lovingly into their eyes…always making absolutely sure that they reach orgasm first?

Well, it’s all bunk.

Do you want to know what we really talked about when discussing the best sex we ever had? We talked about our scraped knees and the bruises on our backs where we were bitten in the throes of passion. No one even mentioned that time you filled the bathtub full of rose petals and blah, blah, blah. It was that time in the back seat of an old chevy with our faces crudely pressed up against the window that got us hot. 

Discovering the writings of Corwainer Smith in the early 1970's was a life-changing revelation. At that time, neither his one novel, Norstrilia, nor any comprehensive compilation of his incredible short stories were in print. For years, I would scour used bookstores in search of his stories, finding one of his stories in this or that compilation, in print, not in print, whatever. Needless to say, his writing had a profound effect on me and I have striven to create worlds, in music and art and words, as strange, as haunting, and, I hope, as full of love as his works, amidst the weirdness. Not that I come close in that regard: but one must aim high. Smith's stories do not grow old. Interestingly, although he was almost unknown 25 years ago, he is regularly deemed the most influential science fiction writer of all time now. I recommend his books, Norstrilia and The Rediscovery of Man without hesitation.

Illustration: The Bulbous Worlds from my novel Flapping. 

by James B. Jordan Copyright © 1991 Originally published in Contra Mundum No. 2 Winter 1992
Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger
Paul Linebarger was born in 1913, the grandson of a clergyman. His father, an eccentric man, had served as a Federal District Judge in the Philippines, but had left this post to work full time for the cause of the Chinese republican reformer Sun Yat Sen, who became Paul's godfather. Paul Linebarger grew up in the retinue of Sun Yat Sen, for his father stayed with Sen during his exile in Japan and throughout his career in China. 

David Bowie sings Simon and Garfunkel's "America." "Changes" at rehearsal in 1976.

I forget how I found photographer Jordan Matter's site, "Uncovered: Busting Out in the Big Apple," but who cares, now that I think about it!? We just like pictures of naked girls ... uh ... I mean ... women.

One finds, much to one's delight, all shapes, sizes, and ages of women cavorting topless in various locales around the city.

"I had a meeting with a casting director from LA. Without a glance at my headshot or resume, and not even a decent introduction, this stranger looks at me, all 5 feet and two inches, 125 pounds ofme and says,'You need to lose twenty or gain thirty because where you are right now, I can't do a thing with you.' A bit thrown, but not wanting to be rude, I asked,'Can you elaborate on that?' To which she replied,'Your face says ingenue, but it wouldn't quite work, and I can't put you as fat best friend because you are not exactly fat.'" --Katy, On Broadway

Jordan Matter on his work: "This is a collection of photographs featuring bare-breasted women in public around New York City, often presented with interviews exploring the issues of body image and sexuality in America today. The informal and humorous nature of these images celebrates women without sexualizing or objectifying them, while creating the illusion of a tolerant world in which shirtless women go casually about their lives."

"The magazine racks are filled withwomen basically naked. When I get dressed to go out, I wear things that are basically showing my boobs anyway. It's not trashy. Everybody does it." -Julia, on the subway.

 
time to sing...

Thank you girls! 

This poor girl is in for a big surprise ... or, looking at her body language, maybe she got the surprise last night.

Many years ago, I was the member of a club that met on Tuesday evenings. Mutual friends introduced me to an attractive, tall blonde woman, whom I shall call T. I was immediately smitten.

It turned out that T was the coffee and snack person for the weekly gathering, but didn't have a car. Naturally, I offered to pick her up and drive her and the goodies to and from the meeting.

Over the next few weeks, we got better acquainted and my hopes for a more intimate relationship were bouyed by our conversations about music, the seventies, her claims that she was a total pervert ... you know, the usual.

The (song)Device

SunPopBlue salutes the visionary behind the (song)Device, embodying, as it does, our bizarro world Zeitgeist: the hyper-capitalist fundamental, planned-obsolescence, the Microsoft approach to digital rights management, and the eBay path to easy money via selling cheapo gizmos from China. "Bid with utter confidence" rather sums it up, doesn't it?

In the Artist's own words: 

Disposable Pop Songs

"After carefully studying the works of Alex Chilton, Chris Bell, Stephin Merrit and others (in case the business of writing pop songs is outsourced). The Artist has carefully and finely handcrafted this song.

The wooden frame encloses a chip, on turning a knob it dispenses an original pop song. Enclosed along with the song are (in no particular order): bills (paid and unpaid), flowers from sidewalks, post-its, sketches, blue prints for big plans, etc. These may or may not have anything to do with the song being played.

After about four plays the song degenerates into noise, thus rendering the (song)Device useless.  

You can then use the (song)Device, as either:

1. (song)Device for churning out Stockhausen like symphonies or
2. Dispose the (song)device, thus symbolically rejecting materialism and therefore turning into some kind of Neo-Buddhist.

The (song)Device,thus functions as some kind of swiss army knife of cool, the one stone that kills many birds...etc. wholesome and educational entertainment for the whole family-the perfect gift for Christmas.

Bid with utter confidence.

La Danse, by Henri Matisse

My old friend, Jon Carroll, of the San Francisco Chronicle wrote the following column a while back. I was just going to quote it, but it is such a good read (and so hard to find) I think I'll just steal the whole thing.

Chronicle Books published a collection of Jon's columns a few years back, Near-Life Experiences. I will tell you this: his column "How To Drive In Indonesia" is worth the price of the book alone. I have read it so many times over the years, laughing out loud starting about the third paragraph and on through the rest of the piece.

In the eighties, I used to see Jon at the M&M Tavern, at the bar, stack of magazines and papers, a drink, a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray arrayed around him, deep in concentration, reading, working. He hates me to say things like this, but he was a true hero of mine in my youth, along with David Bowie, Keith Richards, Iggy Pop, columnist Herb Caen, and, of course, Kojak.

Herewith Jon's Matisse column: 

If you're going to read only one thousand-page book about a French artist this year, make it "The Unknown Matisse," by Hilary Spurling, in two volumes, winner of many awards, filled with big fun, poverty, struggle, scandal and lots of paintings. Cast of hundreds, many of them famous. Can't miss.

I do want to direct your attention to the color plates in the first volume, particularly plate No. 6. The caption reads: "The Dinner Table,' 1896-97. (100 x 131 cm.) The first in a long line of Matisse's works to outrage the public at the annual Paris salons; the other three remained too disturbing to show to anyone except friends in private."

Oh my; it's those naughty French artists again, free and zany in Montmartre, painting things to shock the bourgeoise. And what could it be? It is a woman arranging flowers at a dinner table. The woman is fully clothed. The food on the table is mostly fruit, including pears and lemons. The painting is, if not precisely representational, entirely uncryptic -- a plate looks like a plate, a chair looks like a chair, a wine decanter looks like a wine decanter. There are no disemboweled rabbits, watches floating in space, great smeary bits of color, glued-on bits of hair and fingernails -- nothing like that.

LP Cover Lover: The world's greatest album covers

Being a blogging blogger means more than just putting up old album convers with naked women on them, but right now it seems like enough.	I spent the entire weekend finishing the final piece, The Forever Spring, for my upcoming cd of electronic orchestral works, Sun Transform System. I am too tired transcribe the poetry these masterpieces elicit. Maybe tomorrow.

Intellectual Whores Homepage

Home of the Ladder Theory in male/female relationships.

I can't remember how I found this site - so often the case, isn't it? But I periodically return for a laugh. This guy has given the nature of attraction a lot of thought. And I must say that his theories and analyses of the the ongoing situation are consistent with my own extensive experience and observations over the years. 

I have been both asshole and nice guy in years past. Nice guy (listens to her problems, is sympathetic, polite, etc.) almost without fail gets relegated to friend status. Asshole (showing up drunk once or twice a month and rapping loudly on her window after the bars close) gets welcomed into her warm bed.

Ladies: You can protest all you want, but the facts are the facts.

I love his bit about what women say they care about but really don't: intelligence, sense of humor, honesty, sensitivity etc. ... I know ... that stuff counts ... later. 

Not saying I agree with everything he says all the time, but the Intellectual Whores Homepage, but much of what he says rings true.

Salient excerpts from the site after the jump on the "Cuddle Bitch"— a place no man wants to go, and also on Beethoven's Fur Elise, a brilliant analysis of how Louie von B probably used the same piece of music to seduce countless countesses. 

(Note to self: would this be disingenuous thing to do? Must ponder when time affords.)