LadyHunter

with a blink of an eye one weekend seamlessly melded with the next; whatever happened to monday, tuesday, wednesday? coming directly down from the stars and into a paper production schedule was a shower-and-sleep-less brush with partyworkdeath by fatigue. following a feature fiasco came yet another fucking st-laurent street fest and a pet shop boys surprise spandex evening that ended with chipping teeth on the vodka bottle. Fear and Loathing in Montreal.





wait, was that one week or two? is it september already? christ. the coming weeks are in denial. my burlesquing better half is leaving town and academia looms. Putting off the usual habits of lengthy list-making and power jogging for other (stupider) habits, notions of personal reform seem inevitable - so why not just search for another tree to climb?

though sleep should be a priority in these dying days of summer, spending wee hours inspired by moby ofallpeople (who was, in fact, inspired by David Lynch), I have decided to not second-guess the market either. that sounds ridiculous, but this position is hard, if not impossible, to come by in these trying times. the metamorphosis of not giving a fuck, while giving a great fuck, is a long road to travel alone. why do we work so hard?

there has been serious thought lately about totally going off the deep end. about changing it up. about moving around my home, priorities, friends, lovers, life. people stare intently at my mouth, like it is brand new, and I have decided to take it as an omen. what has been latent for five years seems to have changed quite suddenly.

---

I should apologize for the random crazy that just happened there, but it should all come together soon. For the best and worst, LOCO

CYBERLESQUE: in photos

Are you ready to get this sexy mission started?
Are you ready to explore the darkside of our force?
Are you ready to boldly go where no man or woman has gone before?

George Lucas once said that sci-fi was for people who don't like sex, but we at Bad Taste Burlesque think that's FUCKING CRAP.

We invite all you techies, trekkies, star whores, space sluts and anyone else who wonders what type of crazy shit happens in the stars to the CYBERLESQUE.

So take your protein pills, put your helmet on, set your phasers to 'come' and get ready for this raunchy rocket ride. It's time for the Space Jam:

photocredits: anika waddell




...and just like that it's finished.

countless preparatory hours culminating into two nights of utter moon madness. Glowing, slicked by sweat and alien jizz, ecstatic of, for and with the 500, we joined the machine, pelvis pumping all together. flying through stars, dancing until the sun came up again, the finality finally wiping words from our hard daft bodies.

thankyouthankyouthankyou.
and more on the internet...

LOCO

exhib

just showed my tits to about 500 people. shit.

spoiler!

So I'm giving it all away but...


CYBERLESQUE TONIGHT!



AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Cafe Cleopatre, 10pm!

parable

I feel like that thirsty crow from the parable. You know the one right? Toil with the stones for a drink during drought. Place them, one by one, in the vase until beak reaches liquid. The outcome is worth all the little details, apparently. I am dying of thirst in the meantime, collecting stones. When will we drink?

Humidity and sunshine has descended on this city and we deserve it. There have been too many days this summer spent pedaling in heavy rain and showing up looking drowned but smiling. Something happens between me and the traffic in these times. All of a sudden I get sympathetic smiles, comments like 'il fait bain bein aujourd'hui en chôlis,' and even a little bit of conduissant courtesy. Please go first, you beleaguered wet one. After you.

It would be nice if it would rain again, even though we wished for sunshine. It is exhausting and greasy, lazy and uninspired. It takes too much energy to commit to anything at all and so the commitments grow. We are living days that are not comfortable enough for an afternoon nap with a fan to your face. There is certainly no touching of skin. I want the sky to break again. break!

Like a masochist in heat, I am getting pissy at costumes and scripts and stories and sections. Despite knowing very well that I do it to myself, it still surprises me from time to time, when the cards pile up or when I'm about to bleed. There are SO many things to strike off the list, yet all I want to do is dick around.

I can feel September coming on...

star wars kid

HA! I could use some of these moves next week....
other inspiration on the manstream. go go go.

LOCO

fungus madness

overuse of the word 'madness' in this blog is absolutely not hyperbolic, I assure you. Life has been brimming with madness lately. brimming. madness. mostly having to do with the burlesque. burlesque. madness.

in my 'down time,' I have been playing the role of 'tour guide' to my baby bro and his girlfriend. We have been climbing great heights, drinking local beers and taking photos. I have joined in, feeling like a tourist in my own town. The photos from mountain tops and clock towers will follow on here as they always do: a month or so after the actual event in question, dripping in nostalgia. (35mm is good for that.)

Which brings me to the point of these beauties, whom have just been scored off of Colin (my other burlesquing half and pseudo (gay) boyfriend). This is the magical afternoon we spent in that tree I was blogging about...










DRUGS!