Porn Archives — Page 24 of 32 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966–2014

Hot sex events this week: April 8-14

-

April 8, 2009

Compiled by Molly Freedenberg

Let Mistress Tatiana teach you the ropes at her “Spanking and Paddling” class.

————-

>> RADAR reading series featuring Lorelei Lee
Michelle Tea’s reading series featuring emerging, underground writers and artists gets even hotter this week when Renee Hahn, Patrick O’Neil, and Bucky Sinister are joined by porn performer Lorelei Lee.

Wed/8, 6pm
Free
San Francisco Public Library
100 Larkin, SF
www.myspace.com/radarreading

———-

>> Taoist Energetic Healing & BDSM
Expand your knowledge and expertise in sensation, energy, and Eros with information, education, dialogue, and demonstration by Tahil Gesyuk.

Fri/10, 7pm
$20 sliding scale
Center for Sex and Culture
1519 Mission, SF.
sexandculture.org

———-

>> Spanking and Paddling
Learn one of the most basic and versatile skills in the S&M repertoire with Mistress Tatiana Belodyne (of Fantasy Makers Academy), including different positions, pacing, safety tips, and demonstrations with models.

Mon/13, 8-10pm
$25
Good Vibrations Berkeley
2504 San Pablo, Berk.
(510) 841-8987
www.goodvibes.com

———-

>> Ink & Metal
Hot men with tattoos and piercings get special discounts at this weekly bar night.

Tue/14, open-close
Powerhouse
1347 Folsom, SF
(415) 552-8689
www.powerhouse-sf.com

Trip at the ‘Brain’

-

April 8, 2009

CULT HORROR "I am a genre terrorist," legendary Italian "B" filmmaker Lucio Fulci professes in an interview on the freshly released two-disc edition of his 1990 film Cat in the Brain (Grindhouse). "I perform my commercial deflagration, then I get bored and move on." Likely aware of his more successful compatriot Dario Argento’s moniker, the "Italian Hitchcock," perhaps the late Fulci fancied himself as a sort of Italian Howard Hawks with mild frontal lobe damage: whimsically genre-tripping (comedies in the ’50s, westerns in the ’60s, thrillers in the ’70s) while mastering and exploding conventions. But this would be something of a fanciful delusion. Fulci’s mid-career adoption of giallo, the "spaghetti horror" he helped pioneer and perfect, trapped him in an almost literal genre hell of his own making. With the success of the breakout Zombie (1979), blood-and-gore-thirsty fanboys cried out for more, and Fulci, eager for the commercial success that mostly had eluded him to that point, demurred.

It’s fitting then, that the hallucinatory Cat in the Brain would star Fulci as himself, a director tortured to the point of madness by brutal, graphic visions of his past and current productions: limbs hacked off with chainsaws, numerous decapitations, heads cooking in microwave ovens, and generally just a lot of gorings, stabbings, slicings, slittings, flayings, and disembowelings. When a psychiatrist suggests he is suffering from an identity crisis due to work stress, Fulci objects, "If I made films about love no one would buy a ticket."

But don’t assume Cat in the Brain is Fulci’s attempt to drive the final nail in giallo‘s coffin, much as Michael Haneke’s Funny Games (2007) tried (and failed) to do to its 21st-century offspring, torture porn. It’s certainly bad enough to do so: Fulci’s acting is painfully garish, the edit (featuring footage cobbled from his past films) is out to lunch, and the atypically pedestrian score is worthy of the worst MacGyver episode. But much of Cat‘s perverse charm, like much of giallo, comes from its chainsaw-rough edges. Fulci’s meta conceit may be more Wes Craven’s New Nightmare (a 1994 release he derided as a rip-off) than 8 1/2 (1963), but it’s still satisfying. In the end he has perpetrated a cinematic rope-a-dope, a "statement of innocence in the form of a joke," as his journalist daughter writes in the DVD’s liner notes. The maestro of splatter held an abiding affection for the genre after all, despite his alter ego’s haunted visions. Fulci’s messy violence and gore might not have always been in the best of taste, but for the man himself, they set the stage for an awful lot of good, clean fun.

Confessions: My favorite accidental porn

-

April 2, 2009

By Molly Freedenberg

While catching up on the last season of the L Word last night, I was reminded that I’m not that into porn. Thing is, I do get turned on by media – photos, stories, movies – just rarely media that’s meant explicitly, or exclusively, to excite me sexually. Call it a girl thing. Call it a woeful lack of porn geared towards my particular interests. Whatever you call it, it doesn’t bother me – primarily because there are so many other places (besides actual, you know, life) I find sensual stimulation. Here are some of my favorites:

It’s been awhile since I’ve watched this Showtime series about ridiculously attractive, femme-y lesbians in L.A. But as I watched the steamy tango (real, not euphemistic) between Bette and Tina in the second-to-last episode of the series, I was reminded of how sexy I used to find all the girl-on-girl action that punctuated every episode. I didn’t even realize how much until I tried to watch it with my Mom. Both uncomfortable, we turned it off halfway through. “I think I’d rather watch this … uh, alone,” she said. My inner embarrassed teenager and I couldn’t have agreed more.

Just one example: Shane and Carmen. (Please ignore the cheesy music.)

Photofabulous GayVNs (NSFW)

-

March 31, 2009

Photos by Darwin Bell. Text by Marke B.

Logan McCree, the inky “it” porn boy of the moment (whither Francois Sagat?) accepts his “Performer of the Year 2009” award. His current studio, Raging Stallion, swept the awards again this year.

Those ravishing Hungarians, the Visconti Triplets, on the GayVN red carpet. The won nothing.

Well! The sprawling, exhaustive GayVNs (“the Oscars of gay porn”) pretty much swallowed the weekend whole for many of us. The stars! The awards! The tragedies! The complete winners list is here.

All in all, though, the entire thing was pretty relaxed and entirely fun — moreso than I expected. There was even a charity aspect, with a pricey pre-ceremony “Porn Brunch” at the LookOut in the Castro attracting a number of curious onlookers, rabid fans, and stellar anal wattage for a taping of salacious and sometimes humorous Webisodic adventure “The Tim and Roma Show” — raising some bug bucks for StopAIDS. I wish there had been more food, but the “bottomless” (ha!) mimosas soon made me forgot that I was probably the only hungry person there.

Logan, pre-win, on the couch at the LookOut

Logan’s man helps him show off his assets

The endless night before had seen porn studio “reception” (double ha!) parties all over the Castro, in which boneriffic stars got very “up close and personal” with fans and photogs alike. Snapper Darwin Bell was there until the bitter, bitter end. Below is one more shot of my current threefold obsession, the Visconti Triplets, and then after the jump — and so, SO NSFW — perennial porno sunshine boy (and media mogul!) Barrett Long demonstrates his tongue-tickling talent for autofellatio. It took a couple tries, but we stuck with him!

GAYVNs: the long, hard rundown of events

-

March 25, 2009

By Marke B.

The GayVN Awards: You’ve felt the gay dude excitement, you’ve felt the straight dude excitement. Now, feel the excitement for yourself at the upcoming onslaught of gay porn-related events, as we explode through the wormhole of this weekend’s fabulous — and flab-u-less — events. OMG — meet the stars! Share the love! Be a part of history!

Hey, don’t shoot me — I’m just the 12-inch pianist.

Will the violent, controversial To the Last Man from Raging Stallion take home the GayVN for Best Picture? Will you take home its stars? Maybe

————–

Friday, March 27th

6PM

Falcon Studios’ GayVN Weekend Kick-off Party
Hosted By Juanita MORE!
Q Bar
456 Castro

Roll In Style
A Safer Sex Fashion Show
With NakedSwordsman 2009 Steve Cruz
Sui Generis
218 Church

To The Last Man Signing
Does Your Mother Know?
4141 18th St.

7PM

Raging Stallion Studios Party
The Edge
4149 18th St.

Bel Ami Studios Party
440 Castro
440 Castro

Barrett Long’s Cockstar
Moby Dick
4049 18th St.

Jet Set Men Studios Party
The Mix
4086 18th St.

Dirty Boy Video Studios Party
Twin Peaks
401 Castro

GayRealityPorn and PornTeam
The Midnight Sun
4067 18th St.

Peepshow: Gay porn for spring

-

March 25, 2009

Each week Justin Juul highlights a rad upcoming local sexy event

Who Have you ever seen that movie where the guy pulls out his dick and rubs it on some other guy’s face and then another guy comes in and he’s like “Hey there buddies, can I get me summa dat?!” Or no, wait! How about the one where the guy is sitting in the sauna at 24 Hour fitness just minding his own business, reading the paper, and then another guy comes up and he’s like “Fancy a blowjob, sir?” Those movies were great! Someone should set up an awards show for all the people involved in making them, don’t you think? They could charge tons of money for admission, throw tailgate parties in The Castro, and invite that dude from Ugly Betty to perform stand up comedy. Maybe Margaret Cho could come too. Just a thought.

Hot sex events this week: March 25-31

-

March 25, 2009

Compiled by Molly Freedenberg

Turn up your inner thermostat with the ladies of Body Heat.

————-

>> Body Heat: Femme Porn Tour 2009
The collective of fierce, sassy, irreverent Femme artists known for smashing stereotypes and challenging assumptions — including Amber Dawn, kathleen delaney, Meliza Banales, Jen Cross, Vixen Noir — returns to CSC with porn, kink, smut, erotica, mind-blowing performances and a sex writing workshop.

Thu/26-Fri/27, 7pm, $7-$10
Center for Sex and Culture
1519 Mission, SF.
www.sexandculture.org

———-

Fluffy bunners

-

March 25, 2009

› superego@sfbg.com

Look about you, horny toad. There may not be wee lambykins gamboling on your microlawn or the scent of fresh asparagus pervading your water closet yet, but all the mad party signs of spring are sneaking up to floor you: secret sunset shindigs (www.pacificsound.net), hunky Jesus Easter bonnets (www.thesisters.org), blackout drag road trips to Reno (www.trannyshack.com), and, that ultimate in vernal equinoxious signals, a flood of out-of-state gay porn stars looking for extra cash on Rentboy.com and the back pages of the Bay Area Reporter. Spring has sprung! And will probably be passed out in its stiff leather chaps, turquoise Lycra dress shirt, knock off Gucci wraparounds, and George Michael stubble on the corner of 18th and Market soon.

That’s right, those "Oscars of gay porn," the annual GayVN Awards, are coming upon us yet again, as the Castro Theatre plays host to the biggest circle jerk in the butt biz for another year. Downsizing, of course, is out of the question, despite the rash of porno pink slips being fisted out across the industry, which has been hit hard by a combo of economic deflators, internal tussles, and continued grappling with amateur Web competition. (We’ll see if the upcoming onslaught of 3-D dick flicks provides the stimulus package our local studios — second only to backwoods Eastern Europe in terms of sticky-fingered output — so sorely need.)

No, GayVN organizers are gut-pumping all the lubricious glitz they can into a whole weekend of kiki hurrah, with pre-parties, post-parties, Tupperware parties, and brunches that no one will eat at galore. Inflatable personality Janice Dickinson hosts the awards ceremony itself, with backup from homegirl Margaret Cho and Alec Mapa from Ugly Betty (ha!). Online erotic video-on-demand powerhouse Naked Sword, a.k.a. the giant candy-colored Flash octopus that froze my dinky Windows and made me cry with my pants down, will host the official afterparty, Shameless — "the party you’ll never forget, or remember!" — with some big-name DJs and performers I already can’t! It’ll be a wondrous semi-tragedy unfolding in fast motion, worth it if only to ogle the prancing scene. Just please try not to look at the camera when it’s over.

GAYVN AWARDS CEREMONY Sat/28, 7 p.m., $95. Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF. gayvnawards.avn.com

SHAMELESS GAYVN AFTERPARTY Sat/28, 10 p.m., $25. Wunderland, 181 Eddy, SF. www.nakedsword.com

———–

TINGEL TANGEL CLUB

The louche cabaret monthly celebrates a year of mingling salacious New York City talent and West Coast underground hotness. Original Cockettes Rumi and Scrumbly, singer Novice Theory, "hypersexual" musicians SlowMo Erotic and more light up the stage, and ever-crushable JD Samson of Le Tigre will Sam Ronson the turntables afterward. Tingel Tangel Le Tigre — it’s an anagram.

Wed/25, 8 p.m., $16. Café du Nord, 2170 Market, SF.

————-

FUCK MIAMI

Oh dear, is it that time of year again? Half our stellar nightlife talents (and a lot of pre-tanned wannabes) will be sucked into the studiously Spandexed and belotioned black hole that is the Winter Music Conference in Miami. If you’re too broke — or too allergic to aggressive slickness and pushy V.I.P. chicks — to jet to the coca beach, share the moment with a slew of worthy left-behinds at this lengthy affair.

Fri/27, 4 p.m.- 2 a.m., free. Mars Bar, 798 Brannan, SF.

————

"HOMELESS NIGHT"

This party promises to be wronger than shitting in a urinal: anarchic drag weekly Charlie Horse is hosting a homeless-themed night. Partially controversial gender clown Monistat joins perky Percocetted hostess Anna Conda to present shameful acts by talented messes to actually help benefit homeless services. La-da-dee, la-da-dah, don’t try to rip the wigs off these queens or they will cut you.

Fri/27, 10 p.m., free. The Cinch, 1723 Polk, SF.

————

LOOK OUT WEEKEND

Happy hours are all the populist rage, especially in these queasy economics, no? One of the biggest and brightest, Look Out Weekend, is moving into new quarters at Vessel off Union Square. The delicious electronic stylings of Oh Land and DJing by the Magnificent Seven complement yummy eats and fashionable freaks at the relaunch. Will L.O.W. 2.0 be as raucous as the first version? Hey, it’s free, so go see for yourself.

Fridays, 4 p.m.-9 p.m., free. Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF.

————

ROYALTY

Well! It may be a bit bombastic, but the name just fits. SF soulful house music king DJ David Harness inaugurates a new monthly to rain some of that ol’ hands-in-the-air spirit down on the children-in-waiting at the lovely Triple Crown. The Crown’s sound system is winning extreme plaudits, so be prepared for a high-fidelity throwdown.

Fri/27, 10 p.m., $5. 1760 Market, SF.

————-

DEVOTION

A few years ago, DJ Ruben Mancias packed up his little glam-house weekly at the EndUp, Devotion, and skedaddled to NYC to find fame, fortune, and a lot of really neat T-shirts. He’s occasionally popped back into town to show off each, and remind Latin- and soul-tinged house fans of past EndUp glories. Devotion’s eight-year-anniversary will find him back at the space with Oakland house princes Cecil and Dedan warming up. Memories!

Sun/29, 8 p.m.-4 a.m. The EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF.

RIP, Parkway Speakeasy Theater

-

March 20, 2009

Say it ain’t so! Oakland’s Parkway Theater announced this week that its doors will close Sunday, March 22. According to the theater’s web site:

“After more than twelve years of serving the great cultural crossroad of Oakland, the Parkway Speakeasy Theater will be closing at the end of business day, Sunday March 22, 2009.

From African Diaspora to Thrillville to lesbian fashion shows and educational porn, the Parkway has offered an eclectic array of movies and events. It was the first theater in California to offer food, beer and wine service in a lounge style movie theater. With a nudge or a push from the community, there was little programming the Parkway theater would not try in order to better be a community center and a safe haven for diverse ideas. The Parkway brought Baby Brigade for the shuttered and abandoned parents of newborns, the first international black gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgender film festival and Sunday Salon, a free event for cultural and community enhancement. We, at the Parkway Speakeasy Theater, are deeply proud of the Parkway and will profoundly miss serving its community. Thank you for your patronage.”

Fortunately, all is not entirely lost — the Parkway owners still have their Cerrito Speakeasy Theater, which, like the Parkway, has beer and pizza (and sandwiches with cheeky names: “The Zombie Cow,” anyone?) on the menu, along with new films and special events, including the ever-cool monthly B-movie celebration, Thrillville. It’s also very BART-friendly — literally just a handful of blocks and a Bed, Bath, and Beyond parking lot’s length from the station.

The Parkway closes down with a trio of standout films from 2008: The Wrester, Revolutionary Road, and Let the Right One In (your choice — five bucks!), plus a movie about Lucha Libre that looks pretty unmissable (seven bucks for this one). Head over and show your support Sun/22, or hit up the Cerrito in the coming months to make sure it keeps unspoolin’ films and pourin’ pitchers of PBR.

Ask a Porn Star: masturbation and legal prostitution

-

March 19, 2009

In which super sexy porn people answer questions — each week — from Bay Area locals
Mediated by Justin Juul

Fielding your questions this month is local writer/porn star, Stephen Boyer. Check out some of his movies/pics here and an excerpt from his upcoming novel here. Read our 2008 interview with Boyer here. Read the last installment of Ask a Porn Star here

James N: How would legalizing prostitution change the lives of sex workers?

Stephen Boyer: Legalizing prostitution would help prostitutes because they wouldn’t fear being labeled a criminal. They would be empowered and able to take control of their situations better. Plus it would do away with the hypocrisy we are currently indulging in as a society. Take the homophobic Ted Haggard for instance, the priest that was caught with a male escort and forced to leave his church and town. Well, Haggard has since gone on television and has publicly admitted that what he did was a “sin,” but as far as I know he never faced any legal penalties despite the fact he was on drugs committing an illegal act. However, low-end prostitutes are being booked all the time and being shoved down the hellish rabbit hole that is our present legal system. I’m for keeping everyone out of that mess!

Gerry H: How do things change when you tell people that you’ve done porn?

Naked kiss: Curt McDowell paints the town

-

March 17, 2009

By Johnny Ray Huston

Curt McDowell, from Buzzy’s Adventures (Zip-A-Tone), ca. 1968-70. Courtesy estate of Curt McDowell

One of the things that I appreciate most about Curt McDowell’s art is its shamelessness. It is shameless in a lively, funny, righteous, even virtuous manner that should embarrass prudish American moralists. “An uneven dozen broken hearts,” a show of the late filmmaker’s paintings and drawings, is a revelatory pleasure because of how directly it conveys McDowell’s lust for and love of simple revelry. A scrapbook of photos and drawings attests to McDowell’s appetite for asses and fascination with faces, but ultimately, it’s a testimonial to a sexuality that shirked labels as it stripped off clothing. A collaged wall of comics and portraits brings one in close contact with McDowell’s rich sense of community — one that blurred love and friendship, and mixed family members with figures of imagination.

McDowell’s untamed and uncensored spirit couldn’t be more refreshing today, when pornography (whether commodified or autobiographical) is endlessly subcategorized. But while McDowell’s big heart and healthy libido make for predictable discoveries, his serious talent as a painter comes as a surprise. As a filmmaker, McDowell blazed his own path with short works such as 1971’s self-explanatory yet unexpectedly rich Confessions and 1980’s equally direct Loads. (In 1972’s Ronnie, he merges porn and biographical portraiture with unmatched potency.) His most famous work is the two-and-a-half hour pornographic epic Thundercrack! (1975). It turns out he was just as fierce and skillful with a paintbrush or a set of Magic Markers as he was with a camera.

One of the show’s centerpieces is Untitled (the Beatles in autopsy), a nearly life-size oil-on-canvas naked and dead portrait of the Fab Four from 1968 that deserves a spot in the rich museum of cryptic Beatles iconography and perhaps even within the hall of pop art classics.

Too many str8 boys kissing, maybe

-

March 16, 2009

By Marke B.

OK, all this may be a little tired by now, but I’m still in full agreement with Kimberly Chun’s expert take down of Katy “UR So Gay” Perry from January of last year. That was published before Perry’s odiously catchy “I Kissed a Girl” became impossible to escape last summer — the ditty managed to “have it both ways,” heh, playing both anti-gay conservatives and LGBTs for maximum chart effect. That’s clever, but the song’s lame sentiment (kissing girls turns my boyfriend on — lesbians are only here for my amusement!) still makes my stomach churn.

The parodies came swift and mercilessly, from “I Kissed a Squirrel” (available in many versions) to “I Kissed a Granny” (yeesh!) to “I Kissed a Dog.” Oh, enough already, YouTube Nation.

And then, of course, teh gay. I should have known there would be an onslaught of over-the-top backlash when drag superstar Lady Bunny unleashed “I Licked a Girl” on the world last year (first minute below):

Lady Bunny, “I Licked a Girl” at Southern Decadence

Yay, overly familiar gynophobia! Still, it could all be called hilarious if it wasn’t a trend. Now, the pendulum has swung back, with emo boys embracing the kissing hysteria, and a flood of “I Kissed a Boy” guyliner-bedecked parodies, headed up by primo “hip” parody purveyors Cobra Starship’s version from a Fall Out Boy (!) mixtape. I knew I was gonna have to surrender my critical faculties and just go with the flow when one of my smartest gay friends told me he was completely Lady GaGa for the boy in the video, followed by my bf Hunky Beau’s comment: “Oh goodie, he takes his shirt off.” At least the ~~dood-singer Gabe~~ lipsyncher (a reader informs us in the that this is a fan vid, not Cobra Starship itself) plays with the whole baseball-bat-bashing theme a little, even if he can’t quite bring himself to admit the “he liked it” more than just wanting to “start shit.”

Cobra Starship, “I Kissed A Boy”

So much confliction! Smash! Twist! Contort! Feint! Poor thing. I guess my question is, is kissing really that big a deal? And also, with the super-prominence of porn availability in the Internet age, has kissing become the final frontier of sexual boundaries — the last retainer of intimacy now that all other sex acts have been publicized/commodified? Janet Jackson’s boob, Paris and Britney’s flashed beavers, and then Katy’s emo lesbo-liplock spawn. Well, I guess whatever automatically short circuits “fag” in the comments section these days is maybe a good thing?

After the jump, an explosion of “I Kissed a Boys,” with various degrees of homophobic liberation. Thanks, Katy!

A new tax on smut?

-

March 16, 2009

By Tim Redmond

Heads up: There’s a move in Sacramento to put a new tax on “adult entertainment.” (Scroll down and read the second part of the press release). A couple of thoughts:

1. I’m a tax-and-spend liberal, and I have no problems in general with taxes on services.

2. Still, this is kind of funky. It’s not clear yet how the bill will define “adult entertainment.” As demimonde and labor activist Princess Pandora puts it:

Do they charge Britney Spears concerts? She dances all sexy, including “pelvic undulations,” which are considered a simulated sex act by ABC and can get a club fined/shut down. What about the ballet? Those tights don’t leave much to the imagination. Do you think women love Barishnikov for his dancing? Girlfriend, please! If I do porn, but wear flowers in my hair, and maybe recite some crappy poetry, can I call it “performance art” and avoid the tax?

3. We don’t charge sales tax on newspapers and magazines. When does a magazine become porn, and thus taxable? One nude on the cover (that would include much of the alternative press in America)? What about the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue? (I know, it’s pretty lame, but Playboy’s pretty lame, too).

4. I don’t love the connection this bill makes, if even implictly, between “adult entertainment” and domestic violence. Don’t want to open a can of worms here, but I think there’s a lot more DV that can be traced to the Super Bowl than to most innocent smut.

I’ve put in a call to Assembly member Torrico’s office, and they promised to get back to me. I’ll keep you posted.

UPDATE: Jeff Barbosa, a spokesperson for Torrico, just called me. He said the bill is a “work in progress” and that they still haven’t defined what “adult entertainment” will be. But he said right now they’re using Penal Code Section 313 as a working definition.

Here’s the language:

“Harmful matter” means matter, taken as a whole, which to the
average person, applying contemporary statewide standards, appeals to
the prurient interest, and is matter which, taken as a whole,
depicts or describes in a patently offensive way sexual conduct and
which, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political,
or scientific value for minors.

Ooh, I can see this creating a lot of problems.

I wonder: Perhaps the Assembly could take a page from Tom Ammiano’s pot bill, and legalize prositution, then tax it. Make sense to me.

Ask a Porn Star: Sex with Stephen Boyer

-

March 12, 2009

In Which Super Sexy Porn People Answer Questions — each week — From Bay Area Locals
Mediated by Justin Juul

Fielding your questions this month is local writer/porn star, Stephen Boyer. Check out some of his movies/pics here and an excerpt from his upcoming novel here. Read our 2008 interview with Boyer here, and the last installment of Ask a Porn Star here.

James N: Do you enjoy the sex you have on camera or do you just sort of block it out and then count the money?

Boyer: I enjoy it for the most part. I got into the industry to pay rent. Then I started branching out more with my sexuality. Then I found Kink.com and a world full of toys I could explore and that is when sex got really fun and interesting. The great thing about porn, for me, was that it allowed me to try sexual positions and feel sensations that required toys that I couldn’t afford because I was poor. Doing it on video both paid my rent and gave me the opportunity to have sexual experiences with attractive contemporaries.

Elan F: What is the one thing you hate the most about sex?

Hot sex events this week: March 12-18

-

March 11, 2009

Compiled by Breena Kerr

Lusty Ladies and cheap tattoos at the “Friday the 13th” benefit party

————-

>> Bawdy Storytelling
Local literary smut-spillers – including Sherilyn Connelly, Isaac Rodriguez, Sister Mable Syrup, Melissa Hoobler, Ray Allen, and many more — share their bawdiest tales with a ribald crowd. Bring your own beverage and sparkling personality (and a tale of your own, too – there may be room for one or two from the audience!). This installment’s theme is “But We Finished Anyway: Tales of frozen asses and gag reflexes.” Good times.

Thu/12, 7pm, $7 (snacks included)
1286 Folsom, SF.
Contact bawdystorytelling@gmail.com for more info

———-

>> Born Into Brothels screening
This amazing documentary by Zana Briski and Ross Kauffman is about children in Calcutta’s Red Light district. It won the Oscar for best documentary film in 2005. The screening is part of SF Camerawork’s film series about youth empowerment and will be followed by a discussion.

Thu/12, 7pm, free with suggested donation
SF Camerawork
657 Mission, second floor
415-512-2020
www.sfcamerawork.org

———-

>> ”Friday the 13th” fundraiser with Inkwell and the Lusty Lady
Join the lovely ladies of the Lusty Lady and the inkers at Inkwell tattoo studio for a lively show – and $40 tattoos all night! – benefiting the AIDS Healthcare Foundation. Free drinks all night, and who knows what you’ll wake with scrawled permanently on your backside. For charity, of course.

Fri/13, 9pm, donations encouraged, tattoos $40
Inkwell
1145 65th St., Emeryville
www.inkwellworld.com

———-

>> IXFF Exposure Party
“The erotic film networking event of the year.” Come one come all directors, editors, producers, talent and more for a special panel presentation on erotic cinema. And if the thought of enjoying a live DJ, complimentary cocktails, and the sheer pleasure of knowing everyone around you is in the pleasure business isn‘t enough to get you through the doors, maybe the Independent Erotic Film Festival’s grand prize of $1,500 will have you smoozing with the porn-sters, combing the party for your production crew.

Fri/13, 7pm-10pm, $5-10 (sliding scale)
The Center for Sex and Culture
1519 Mission, SF.
510-522-5460
www.goodvibes.com

———

Keeping their cool

-

March 11, 2009

>>Click here for our complete SFIAAFF coverage

Did Asian American hipsters arrive with the cinematic appearance of Mr. Miyagi or Gregg Araki? The moment Hipster Bingo included an "über-hot Asian hipster (female)" square? Face it, we are everywhere — bubbling up from every microniche to make zines, play in bands, draw comics, and chafe against those model-minority, math-geek stereotypes, ready to rage against the Man’s machine.

According to You Don’t Know Jack: The Jack Soo Story, it all started with the star of Flower Drum Song (1961) and late-1970s TV series Barney Miller. Oakland-raised Goro Suzuki got his start as the life of the Tanforan and Topaz internment camps, evolving into a popular crooner-comedian in the Midwest where he attempted to sidestep prejudice by shortening Suzuki to the more Chinese Soo. He hit the Hollywood big time with his scene-stealing nightclub owner Sammy Fong and his beloved Detective Sgt. Nick Yemana, a role showcasing an understated wit that seems to define Asian cool. Alas, The Slanted Screen (2006) director Jeff Adachi concentrates so hard on Soo’s hipster cred, reinforced by pals like George Takei, that the drumbeat gets a bit deafening in this valuable if flawed doc, which fails to truly reveal the man behind the parts.

That’s the flip side of cool — the more you stress on it, the more elusive it is. On the opposite side of the spectrum: the 1990s-ish iconoclastic, workaholic breed of Asian hip obsessively worked by David Choe in Dirty Hands: The Art and Crimes of David Choe. Exhaustively documenting the Los Angeles-born artist for eight years as he matures before our eyes, director Harry Kim charts the growth spurts: from mischievous tot to shoplifter and graf artist to porn illustrator to street-art superstar to spiritual penitent after a stint in a Tokyo jail. The filmmaker doesn’t seem to know quite when to stop, but then neither does his subject: an obviously intelligent, playful talent who specializes in compulsively analyzing himself and pushing himself to the limits of the law, his work, and his own (r)evolution as a human being. So driven in his pursuit of edge-skating experiences that he comes off as less hipster than haunted, Choe and his Bukowskian tendencies, Vice aesthetics, and "deep" thoughts rivet long after the bodily fluids and sensory overload murals congeal.

YOU DON’T KNOW JACK: THE JACK SOO STORY

Sun/15, 2:30 p.m., and March 18, 7 p.m., Kabuki

DIRTY HANDS: THE ART AND CRIMES OF DAVID CHOE

Sat/14, 9:30 p.m., Castro

Tues/17, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki
———

THE SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL ASIAN AMERICAN FILM FESTIVAL March 12–22. Main venues are the Castro, 429 Castro, SF; Sundance Kabuki, 1881 Post, SF; Pacific Film Archive, 2575 Bancroft, Berk; and Camera 12 Cinemas, 201 S. Second St., San Jose. Tickets (most shows $11) are available at www.asianamericanmedia.org. For this week’s schedule, see film listings.

Shokushu Goukan!

-

March 10, 2009

› andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Dear Readers:

It’s a dull, drippy week in California and when the weather gets like this a writer’s fancy turns to tentacles.

Manifestly untrue, I know, but mine did. Recently while researching something else (the famous Sybian ride-on sex toy, the one whose dealer claims it will "cause a female to literally explode on it" — I hate it when that happens!) I came upon a repository of tentacle porn, and boy did that take me back. Once upon a time I had somehow managed never to hear of tentacle porn until one night when I was hanging out with my friend Annalee Newitz, the high tech high-weirdness expert and she was all, "Oh, blah blah blah this weird thing and that weird thing and tentacles" and I was all, "Wait, what was that last thing again?"

It’s tentacle porn. It’s Japanese. Extremely Japanese. Innocent schoolgirl types, drawn anime/hentai fashion with giant eyes and giant boobs and teensy little bodies clad in teensy little schoolgirl uniforms, until they’re not, get non-consensually multipenetrated by … tentacles. How did you think that sentence was going to end?

Anyway, I got the idea and I stored it away and brought it out occasionally to amuse or shock people and I totally forgot I’d still never seen any myself until I went looking for something else and somehow stumbled over the tentacles (another "I hate it when that happens" thing) and it all came back to me.

It’s the dullest thing ever. I’d seen enough hentai (anime porn) to expect this (it tends to be weirdly slow and standardized and repetitive and badly dubbed). It’s not the easiest sort of porn to project yourself into, even for a person who likes porn more than I do. And that’s the stuff without tentacles. The odd thing about the tentacles, beyond the fact that they exist at all (they were invented to get around restrictions on depictions of non-tentacular intercourse), is that they are so … uninspired. They never seem to be attached to an interesting monster with any motivations besides rape, and they have a very limited repertoire of sexual acts. They’re very "bad teenage date" — stick it in, stick it in, stick it in, but unlike a bad teenage date, they can do all the sticking-in at the same time. Whoopty-do.

Here’s what I do like about tentacle porn:

1) Making fun of it has turned into a sort of online cottage industry, and if you look around you can find some hilarious examples, like the grumpy beasties at Ghastly’s Ghastly Comic: Tentacle Monsters and the Women Who Love Them (www.ghastlycomic.com) who are offended that anyone might think they’d commit an act of "bestiality." See also "How To Avoid Tentacle Rape" (uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/HowTo:Avoid_tentacle_rape) or Dwight Schrute’s blog (www.nbc.com/The_Office/dwights-blog/2008/05/the-curious-rise-of-tentacle-sex-in-manga).

I think Cthulhu might like it, and whatever keeps Cthulhu happy … It has its own soda (www.tentaclegrape.com).

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

I found some very weird porn on my boyfriend’s computer (I swear I wasn’t snooping!) It’s bondage stuff with Japanese girls and really, I don’t know what’s going on. He’s never even mentioned an interest in anything like this! Does he want to tie me up? (Not my thing.) Does he wish I was Japanese? Help!
Love,

Tall, blonde, not tied up

Dear Blondie:

I‘m sorry! I don’t believe you weren’t snooping, mind you, but I’m still sorry. Please don’t take this too much to heart, though. Boys will be boys, and boys will look at bondage porn.

You have two ways to go here. The first is to ask him about it and (probably) feel better when he (probably) insists that he likes you just the way you are, and if he wanted a Japanese bondage girl he would have tried to date them back when he was dating, and he’s sorry he freaked you out. The second is to just shrug and go about your business. I do kind of have a preference for the latter, but I will understand if you can’t let it go and feel like you have to confront.

Just practice telling yourself that fantasy is fantasy and reality is reality and many people harbor fantasies they not only can’t act out, but wouldn’t even want to given the opportunity. Make sure you believe this yourself before you confront him. Otherwise your skepticism is sure to show, and he will get defensive and end up accusing you of not trusting him and going through his stuff — and that is not somewhere you want to be. See why I’d pick the second option, assuming you gave me ultimate power over your decision-making processes?

What? No, I don’t have creepy power fantasies about running your life, but even if I did I wouldn’t tell you about them, and I’d thank you not to go looking for them on my computer.

Love,

Andrea

Don’t forget to read Carnal Nation (carnalnation.com) for more Andrea and other cool stuff.

Naked kiss

-

March 10, 2009

› johnny@sfbg.com

One of the things that I appreciate most about Curt McDowell’s art is its shamelessness. It is shameless in a lively, funny, righteous, even virtuous manner that should embarrass prudish American moralists. "An uneven dozen broken hearts," a show of the late filmmaker’s paintings and drawings, is a revelatory pleasure because of how directly it conveys McDowell’s lust for and love of simple revelry. A scrapbook of photos and drawings attests to McDowell’s appetite for asses and fascination with faces, but ultimately, it’s a testimonial to a sexuality that shirked labels as it stripped off clothing. A collaged wall of comics and portraits brings one in close contact with McDowell’s rich sense of community — one that blurred love and friendship, and mixed family members with figures of imagination.

McDowell’s untamed and uncensored spirit couldn’t be more refreshing today, when pornography (whether commodified or autobiographical) is endlessly subcategorized. But while McDowell’s big heart and healthy libido make for predictable discoveries, his serious talent as a painter comes as a surprise. As a filmmaker, McDowell blazed his own path with short works such as 1971’s self-explanatory yet unexpectedly rich Confessions and 1980’s equally direct Loads. (In 1972’s Ronnie, he merges porn and biographical portraiture with unmatched potency.) His most famous work is the two-and-a-half hour pornographic epic Thundercrack! (1975). It turns out he was just as fierce and skillful with a paintbrush or a set of Magic Markers as he was with a camera.

One of the show’s centerpieces is Untitled (the Beatles in autopsy), a nearly life-size oil-on-canvas naked and dead portrait of the Fab Four from 1968 that deserves a spot in the rich museum of cryptic Beatles iconography and perhaps even within the hall of pop art classics. John has his left arm over Paul’s shoulder while a diminutive Ringo, lying on his side, is nestled into Paul in a manner suggestive of a child seeking comfort. George is isolated — he’d be looking off in the other direction from the other three if his eyes were open, but like theirs, his are closed in eternal drowsiness. The languid full-frontal sexuality of the painting is tonally different from the sexual high jinx in McDowell’s movies. Melancholy emanates from the image, as much due to its dark colors as its subject matter. And there’s an eerily prescient element: the late John’s and George’s names are visible on their corpses’ ID tags, while Paul’s and Ringo’s remain obscured.

"[Curt’s] beefcake was hot off the streets and the cheesecake was equally tart and titilutf8g," McDowell’s closest peer George Kuchar writes with quintessential alliterative brio in a note for the show. "All of this was served in a blue plate special that was generously filled with obsessions immune to none." Anyone who has a heart won’t be immune to "an uneven dozen broken hearts," another inspiring act of queer revivalism by curator Margaret Tedesco.

CURT MCDOWELL: AN UNEVEN DOZEN BROKEN HEARTS

Through March 29

[2nd floor projects]

www.projects2ndfloor.blogspot.com

alt.sex.column: Shokushu Goukan!

-

March 10, 2009

By Andrea Nemerson. View more alt.sex here.

Dear Readers:

It’s a dull, drippy week in California and when the weather gets like this a writer’s fancy turns to tentacles.

Manifestly untrue, I know, but mine did. Recently while researching something else (the famous Sybian ride-on sex toy, the one whose dealer claims it will "cause a female to literally explode on it" — I hate it when that happens!) I came upon a repository of tentacle porn, and boy did that take me back. Once upon a time I had somehow managed never to hear of tentacle porn until one night when I was hanging out with my friend Annalee Newitz, the high tech high-weirdness expert and she was all, "Oh, blah blah blah this weird thing and that weird thing and tentacles" and I was all, "Wait, what was that last thing again?"

It’s tentacle porn. It’s Japanese. Extremely Japanese. Innocent schoolgirl types, drawn anime/hentai fashion with giant eyes and giant boobs and teensy little bodies clad in teensy little schoolgirl uniforms, until they’re not, get non-consensually multipenetrated by … tentacles. How did you think that sentence was going to end?

Anyway, I got the idea and I stored it away and brought it out occasionally to amuse or shock people and I totally forgot I’d still never seen any myself until I went looking for something else and somehow stumbled over the tentacles (another "I hate it when that happens" thing) and it all came back to me.

It’s the dullest thing ever. I’d seen enough hentai (anime porn) to expect this (it tends to be weirdly slow and standardized and repetitive and badly dubbed). It’s not the easiest sort of porn to project yourself into, even for a person who likes porn more than I do. And that’s the stuff without tentacles. The odd thing about the tentacles, beyond the fact that they exist at all (they were invented to get around restrictions on depictions of non-tentacular intercourse), is that they are so … uninspired. They never seem to be attached to an interesting monster with any motivations besides rape, and they have a very limited repertoire of sexual acts. They’re very "bad teenage date" — stick it in, stick it in, stick it in, but unlike a bad teenage date, they can do all the sticking-in at the same time. Whoopty-do.

Here’s what I do like about tentacle porn:

Peepshow: Punk sex “Roulette”

-

March 9, 2009

Each week Justin Juul highlights a rad upcoming local sexy event

Who Don’t you hate it when you forget to close your browser after a hot and heavy self-petting session and then you suddenly find yourself watching porn with your brain instead of your naughty region? What is this shit, man?! Porn sucks. The plotlines are non-existent, the music sounds like it was made on a garage-sale Casio, and the production value is just total shit. But the worst part is the casting. Big beefy jocks with tribal tats and goatees, peroxide blondes with implants and tramp stamps -they may be good at fucking, but compelling character actors/artists, they are not. The problem with porn is that most of it is made in Los Angeles by brainless douchebags and clueless ex-cheerleaders looking for a quick buck. But this is San Francisco. This is the art capital of the entire world, the home of the free thinker, and the land of the awesome. Can’t we get some porn made for us? Yes, we can! Yes, we can! If you’re as sick of Barbie Doll smut as we are, then you should get to know local filmmaker/producer/writer/artist Courtney Trouble. Trouble is the founder of a “queer porn” (“queer” as in not just homo, but alternative as well) site called Nofauxxx.com and she’s the final word when it comes to smut with attitude and character. No Fauxxx is the oldest running queer porn site on the Internet and, to this date, the only spot that mixes alt, gay, lesbian, straight, trans, kink, and BBW genres into one common site. It’s sexy, artsy, entertaining, and totally DIY. In a word: ours.

Embedded: The real porn stars of Noe Valley

-

March 5, 2009

Embedded:

Melissa Gira Grant gets deep about the San Francisco sex scene every Thursday on SEX SF. Check out her last installment here.

Monika studies public health at San Francisco State University. She’s 28 going on 29 and lives in Noe Valley. “I’m not bougie,” she says, “I just got a good deal.” She uses FetLife.com and MySpace to meet potential lovers. “I don’t have a problem telling people on those sites that I do porn. It’s helpful. That way the one’s who are talking to me to get my pics can just buy them from me and wank off to a couple.”

Monika is the feature model on a site she runs herself, Monika’s Playhouse. It’s her take on tranny porn. “There’s basically two kinds of tranny porn out there: the ‘shemales’ with big tits and big dicks fucking everything in site, these eroticized women with penises. Then there’s men dressed like women being dominated. Crossdresser porn. I’m a blend of the two.”

Economy kills porn’s hard-on

-

March 4, 2009

528-cover.web.jpg
Kink.com owner Peter Acworth

By Steven T. Jones

The San Francisco Chronicle today reports (way back on its Business page) on how the recession/depression and free Internet porn sites (which often steal content from paid sites) are hurting the porn industry, which will in turn hurt San Francisco’s economy.

Among the revelations is that homegrown success story Kink.com last month laid off 13 employees and scuttled plans for some new sites after a major expansion at its San Francisco Armory headquarters just last year.

Just like the newspaper and music businesses, the porn industry will need to find ways to continue to monetize its content. Maybe the bankers aren’t the only industry that could use a government fluffer these days.

An interesting turn

-

March 3, 2009

› andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Dear Andrea:

I am a 39-year-old straight woman having the time of my life with sex. I have two questions for you.

First, my current somewhat exclusive (28-year-old hottie — irrelevant, I’m just braggin’) sex partner and I both know that nothing that touches the anus should then touch the vagina without washing first. However, sometimes in the course of, well, intercourse, it accidentally happens, whether an accidental brush with the anus during vaginal intercourse from the back, or an accidental penetration of the vagina during anal intercourse. Is there anything that can be done to prevent weird vaginal consequences when this happens? Douche? If so what kind would be best?

Other question: My current SESP has a rather large penis (braggin’ again) with a downward bend. This makes vaginal intercourse doggy style AMAZING, but every other position from the front that we’ve tried pretty painful. Any suggestions for positions we may not have thought of that would benefit from this kink in the dink?

Love,

Ouchie

Dear Ouch:

Excellent bragging! And who could blame you?

The anus/vagina question is eternal and vexing and probably (thankfully) somewhat blown out of proportion. There is of course a subset of women (heavily correlated with that subset of women who e-mail columnists who offend them, as it happens) who have vaginas like the princess and the pea, except the pea is anything and everything that could possibly cause a vaginal infection, and the princess is a vagina. So, pace the prolifically e-mailing vaginas, who shouldn’t be taking my advice on this, many or really most vaginas simply aren’t that delicate. You should try to avoid cross-contamination, of course you should, but as long as you stick with the front-to-back wipe and other basic common-sensical hygienic measures, honestly, you’ll be fine. Has anything bad happened yet? How long have you been back-to-fronting with this wow-that’s-young-but-hey-good-for-you hot guy, anyway?

The accidental brushing-up against I imagine must happen in so many acts of intercourse that if it were a likely route to infection we’d all be … well, ew. There’s no funny, clever way to describe the state of suffering from bacterial vaginosis. Let’s just not be.

Your other accidental exposure, the "it just slipped in" part, though: really? This I don’t think I’ve ever even heard before, that he’d be going about his anal business and accidentally perform vaginal intromission now and then. That doesn’t sound like such a great idea (although, again, have you had any problems?) but I think it could be avoided. Ask him to pay attention! Maybe he could use a hand as a sort of vestibule-guard (a doorman, if you will), or you could use yours. Maybe one of you could adjust an angle to make it less likely. Maybe you could, I dunno, insert a small device to block the entrance, which could be fun anyway?

My best advice after "don’t do that," though, is just to keep everything clean. Wash before (not douche, just wash). Wash after. Pee a lot. Cleanliness is next to, well, possibly not godliness in this case, but certainly UTIlessness. If you don’t believe me, you can ask a porn star. I was looking around for one to quote on this and found one I happen to know personally (although not that personally), being interviewed at my very own home paper. It’s Lorelei Lee, in the Bay Guardian‘s sex blog www.sfbg.com/blogs/sexsf/2009/02/ask_a_porn_star: "Shower immediately after every shoot," Lorelei says. "We are probably some of the cleanest people you know. That said, sometimes we do get UTIs or yeast infections or BV, in which case we go to the doctor like everyone else. Not too sexy, but not the end of the world either."

So there you have it. Take a shower. Take two.

Now, about your bendy guy. That’s really funny, since people who talk about women’s sexual anatomy and response (that would be me) are forever pointing out that you can have things stuck up there all your life and never have an orgasm from it because that spot, you know the one, just doesn’t get enough attention unless the penetrative device has a bend in it. Fingers (crooked) work. Purpose-made toys work. That thing most obviously intended for penetrative purposes, though, that just doesn’t work. Except when it does! You’re having the time of your life? Isn’t that good enough? I’m sorry, but there really is no other fix. Your fella’s may bend, but it doesn’t want to bend back. You don’t want to be responsible for what could happen if you try to bend it back. So I think you’re going to have to count your blessings and stick with what works. At least, in your case, it works very well indeed, and that is so much better than it works for so many other couples that all I can say is keep that guy; you’d miss him.

Love,

Andrea

Check out Andrea’s new column "Now What?" in the cool new sex zine Carnal Nation (carnalnation.com). Catch Andrea’s workshop "Is There Sex After Baby?" at Recess Urban Recreation (recessurbanrecreation.com ) March 30. Andif you have wondered about San Francisco Sex Information’s famous sex educator trainings but never did anything about it, here’s your chance. Classes start soon. Info and registration at sfsi.org.

“Yan Pei-Ming: YES!”

-

March 3, 2009

REVIEW James Elkin starts off his wonderful book What Painting Is (Routledge, 1998) with the simple statement that "painting is alchemy," an elegant encapsulation of the process by which combining oils and pigments, applying that mixture onto a canvas, and generally getting one’s hands dirty results in something as ethereal as one of Monet’s Water Lilies. Elkin’s words came to mind while looking at Franco-Chinese artist Yan Pei-Ming’s massive watercolor and oil paintings. Yan’s paintings are alchemical double exposures: we are asked to view them simultaneously as palimpsest-like records of their material creation and as indexes of their subjects. Their visceral emotional impact comes from the tension between these two ways of seeing, a tension that is present in every brush stroke and paint globule.

Take Yan’s portrait of our new president, painted last year. Obama regards us cautiously. His sober visage and weary gaze — the products of roughly brushed, smeared and daubed blacks, whites and grays — seem to anticipate the disappointment that will invariably accompany the enormous, near-impossible task before him. The spattering mist of paint droplets that streak his face and suit make the canvas look as if it has been left for the birds, so to speak. This is not the face of the Great Progressive Hope enshrined in street art hagiography. This is not a presidential portrait. This is a portrait of a man — a rightfully exhausted and undoubtedly doubt-filled man — who happens to be the president. The aggregated crudeness of Yan’s technique is not in the service of caricature or grotesquerie. Rather — much like Yan’s earlier portraits of Pope John Paul II, Bruce Lee, anonymous prostitutes, and himself — Obama displays the battle scars of a forceful struggle with portraiture itself.

The political resonances of that representational struggle echo resoundingly throughout this solo exhibition, and the struggle is often one of life and death. On the wall adjacent to Obama, there are four equally large black and white oil portraits depicting unnamed U.S. soldiers and veterans. Each is ambiguously titled Life Souvenir, followed by a different date. Do the numbers mark when these people returned home, or the hour of their death, or both? A morbid terminus is suggested, metonymically, by Returning Home (2008) which depicts the flag-draped coffins of the recent war dead; an image that the Bush administration so pointedly tried to remove from the public domain. A similar ambiguity suffuses the more recent "New Born, New Life" series: I couldn’t help but think of the gore porn photos used by anti-abortion extremists when looking at Yan’s watercolors of newborn infants emerging from murky pools of placental red. Even Obama faces a presidential memento mori in the massive watercolors of U.S. currency on the gallery’s upper level, each mottled denomination bearing the portrait (in this context, rendered worthless as legal tender, while being worth quite a lot, since Yan tends to receive blue chip bids at auction) of a "great man" who has come and gone.

YAN PEI-MING: YES! Through May 23. Tues.–Sat., 11 a.m.–6 p.m. Walter and McBean Galleries, San Francisco Art Institute, 800 Chestnut, SF. (415) 749-4563, www.waltermcbean.com

1...232425...32 Page 24 of 32