Email: rachelkramerbussel at


Lusty Lady

Watch my first and favorite book trailer for Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica. Get Spanked in print and ebook

Tuesday, February 28, 2006


In all seriousness, lately I feel like I have so much trouble focusing on one single task. I either look at/think about 10 things at once, or the future, or something else entirely - like I'll be trying to write something, and thinking about how much money I (don't) have in the bank. Or I'll be trying to edit someone's story while thinking about a column I'm going to May. It's a delaying tactic and I'm proud of myself when I can just shut out all the nagging, berating, confusing, troubling voices and just write whatever's clamoring for the most attention in my head, but sometimes I can't. Sometimes I just give up. And sometimes that's good, sometimes it means that I just need to do whatever else it is for a while, whether that's cry or jerk off or read or go for a walk or talk on the phone or whatever. But it really does sometimes feel out of control, and I realized something not so pleasant as I was, yes, crying into my pillow the other day - that that sadness wasn't about some guy. It was about feeling lonely and wanting someone to sortof come in and rescue me from my problems, and thinking that a fling or relationship or whatever would do that, when it's up to me to do that. It's hard though because I take on too much and not the most financially lucrative things, and then I start to resent it, and be jealous, and want things I don't have, and then it's really easy for me to be ready to chuck all the stuff I don't want to do to devote myself to someone else. OF COURSE it's way easier to try to tidy up someone else's life, to enhance it and do for them, than to tackle my own longterm problems. So I'm working on all of this. Trying to plan a little bit more and harness what writing energy I do have, when I have it and not be quite so hard on myself. It's a challenge, it really is, but ultimately worth it, I hope.


There are (at press time) 1,322 comments on this post on Dooce's blog. 1,322!!! The mind boggles, but does not possibly have time to process all those comments.

That I'd even attempt to scroll through them is why I am 30 and still working on the same book I was working on when I was 23: I'm so freaking easily distracted. Maybe when I'm 37 it'll be marginally closer to being done. No, just kidding. Believe me, I know I work a lot and am way hard on myself, which is why when I let loose, I really let loose. Though chilling with the alcohol consumption has been good for me. I still marvel at how people just don't get not wanting to drink. There has to be a reason because otherwise something is so wrong with you. I love drinking, believe me, just like I love to watch TV, which is why I try to do both sparingly. I'm thinking more and more that I need some sort of retreat, getaway, hideout, something to force me to do these things I dream about at night and startle myself awake thinking of. I do some things so half-assed and I'm trying to stop, but then I freak out and cannot possibly conceive of success so I take the scraps, the easy way out, the minutiae that keeps me busy but doesn't really add to the bottom line. I could do that forever, I know, but after a while there has to be something more. At least, I keep hoping so.

More hot Black Betty 3 party pix

Let's get out of the way right now that this blog is not safe for work. Since my website has been banned from some law firms (love it!), just consider this your warning. Before we get to this, this photo is just so freaking hot I can't stand it. Literally, I am unable to work cause I'm just generally jumpy and horny. Which says a lot when you're "unable to work" and you're supposed to be editing dirty stories, doesn't it?

And I'm sure more will show up soon, I even snapped a few. Needless to say, NSFW, Tristan Taormino's House of Ass party pics and 2 party writeups:


Waking Vixen

The big question is...which photo will I run with my next Voice column?

These are my two favorite photos of that set by DCX (sorry if they come out huge, I am very clearly a word girl not an HTML girl even though Ali Z has explained this to me like 100 times)

- me with photographer Paul Sarkis

- her gorgeousness, Justine Joli


We do, don't we?

Congratulations, Jessica! Speaking of Feministing, there's a thread there now about my Who Pays? column.

Jessica Valenti's FEMINISTS DO IT BETTER, to Brooke Warner at Seal Press, in a nice deal, by Tracy Brown at Wendy Sherman Associates (NA).

Adventures in book covers: 4% Famous

A new cover for this one apparently:

4% Famous

4% Famous


Books to watch out for

Yes, Publisher's Marketplace is well worth the $20/month fee. FYI, a search for "blogger" yielded 35 results, pretty much all the usual suspects a few random blog types.

Melissa de la Cruz and Tom Dolby's GIRLS WHO LIKE BOYS WHO LIKE BOYS, an anthology of personal essays about the ups and downs of friendships and relationships between straight women and gay men, with contributions from Simon Doonan, Cindy Chupack, Andrew Solomon, Ayelet Waldman, Carson Kressley, and Elizabeth Spiers, and others, to Trena Keating at Dutton and Plume, at auction, for publication in June 2007, by Richard Abate at ICM (world).

A portion of the proceeds will benefit The Trevor Project, the nationwide suicide prevention helpline for gay and questioning teens.

Journalist Nicholas Kulish's LAST ONE IN, in which a New York City tabloid's war correspondent is hit by a truck in Manhattan just as the war in Iraq is about to begin, causing the paper's editor to send their gossip columnist to join the Marines in his place, to Lee Boudreaux of Ecco, by Marly Rusoff at Marly Rusoff & Associates (NA).

Film rights to Mike Deluca for Columbia Pictures, by Shari Smiley at CAA.

Sherrill Bodine's RECIPE FOR GOSSIP, about a forty-something recently deposed Page6-esque columnist who turns her demotion to recipe writer a career comeback and finds love with a CEO along the way, to Larissa Rivera-Gonzalez at Warner, in a nice deal, in a two-book deal, by Danielle Egan-Miller at Browne & Miller Literary Associates.

Joanna Angel's tits

Joanna Angel's tits
Originally uploaded by rkb1.
Joanna Angel with Tristan Taormino talking into the mic. From the video release party for Tristan Taormino's House of Ass.

Photo by Paul Sarkis.

it's really the glasses that do it

Justine Joli & Sunny Leone
Originally uploaded by Britphoto.
Justine Joli and Sunny Leone


Justine Joli and Tristan Taormino

Justine Joli and Tristan Taormino
Originally uploaded by rkb1.
Photo of Justine Joli and Tristan Taormino taken at the party for Tristan Taormino's House of Ass. Tristan also had a photographer running around snapping LOTS of photos, I can't wait to see them. Photo by Paul Sarkis.

Okay, screw impartiality - Justine is SO HOT! Seriously, she was utterly, utterly adorable and very sweet. I look forward to seeing her in this flick and many more.


while I'm at it

Justine Joli
Originally uploaded by morbidthoughts.
More Justine Joli hotness


the infamous ass cake

the infamous ass cake
Originally uploaded by rkb1.
From the party for Tristan Taormino's House of Ass. One of 2 ass cakes there. Photo by Paul Sarkis.

Aqua Erotica 2 review

Best Bondage Erotica

Aqua Erotica 2

Eros Zine reviews Aqua Erotica 2

The next story takes the reader into a whole other world, and smoothly so. "Taking It All" by Rachel Kramer Bussel brings us into the world of lesbianism with wonderful flair. Even if you have no interest in woman-on-woman sex (though I know few who don't), this story is so rough, straightforward, and hot that you can't resist sweating. Thanks to Bussel's wonderful writing style, you don't even know that the first scene takes place in a dyke bar until a few pages into the story. From there, the tale only gets steamier, but you'll have to check out the book to get all the juicy details. So far, the book is two for two, so let's keep reading.

More from Melcher on Aqua Erotica 2

Also, I've got 3 copies of Aqua Erotica 2 to give away March 15th at In The Flesh

March 15 reminder: In The Flesh

I have over a dozen books to give away and just stocked up on all kinds of candy, plus we have very kinky, amazing readers who are making rare appearances. Please spread the word!

(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey,
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676

In March, In The Flesh features several of today’s most prominent erotic writers. Laura Antoniou is beloved by the BDSM community for her ongoing Marketplace series, as well as her diverse erotic fiction and kink-oriented lectures. Debra Hyde runs the blog Pursed Lips ( and has contributed to numerous anthologies, including Leather, Lace and Lust and Best Lesbian Erotica 2006. Maxim Jakubowski, who’s edited 13 volumes of The Mammoth Book of Erotica series and written numerous erotic novels, makes a rare appearance from his home in London. Host Rachel Kramer Bussel will read her story, “Taking It All,” from the new anthology Aqua Erotica 2 ( Over a dozen books, including copies of Aqua Erotica 2, The Mammoth Book of Erotica, Amazons, Vanilla Slim, The Mammoth Book of Illustrated Erotic Women, and The Catalyst and Other Works will be given away throughout the evening.

In the Flesh is a monthly reading series hosted at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by Village Voice sex columnist and acclaimed erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel. From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Future themed nights include true confessions, GLBT stories and erotic memoirs.


you can't see quite how short my skirt is

Or maybe you can. It was very short. From the party for Tristan Taormino's House of Ass, photo by Paul Sarkis

How to waste time, money and energy: a special tip for writers

Prompted by reading Miss Snark and wanting to know more about the book industry, I broke down and joined Publisher's Marketplace. So while I now have access to all these juicy deals, I fear that it will only set me further on my path of inertia as I see them and think "I'll never be able to do that!" Mostly I need a vacation and to regroup and figure out "what I want to do." But still, they are intriguing for a bookworm like me, here's a few that caught my eye:

Sasha White and Saskia Walker's KINK, an erotic anthology, featuring White's WATCH ME about a married woman, her exhibitionism, and the husband who catches her at it, along with Walker's SEX, LIES, AND BONDAGE TAPE, in which a backstage media secret leads to sex games, to Kate Seaver at Berkley Heat, by Roberta Brown at Brown Literary Agency (world).

Valerie Stivers's BLOOD IS THE NEW BLACK, about a young woman at a glossy fashion magazine who discovers that the reigning tastemakers have a thirst for blood, pitched as The Devil Wears Prada & Mean Girls meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer, to Allison McCabe for Three Rivers Press, at auction, for publication in summer 2007, by Joe Veltre at Artists Literary Group, developed with Farrin Jacobs (NA). Sarah Self at The Gersh Agency is handling film rights.

Paulina Porizkova's A MODEL SUMMER, about a fifteen-year-old Czech-born Swedish girl chosen by a modeling agent to spend a summer working in Paris, where the once ugly duckling is proclaimed a swan, forcing her to make decisions that no teen-ager should ever have to make, to Zareen Jaffery at Hyperion, in a very good deal, for publication in 2007, by Marly Rusoff at Marly Rusoff & Associates (NA).

Monday, February 27, 2006

Fun with siblings

So, my newly 18-year-old stepbrother is coming to town this weekend and I want to take him someplace fun. Any good brunch/lunch/dinner, comedy, entertainment options going on this weekend (Friday night-Sunday) would be much appreciated. Like if Comic Con was this weekend, he'd be into that. He's kindof a typical kid. We'll probably hit up a comedy show and I don't know what else so please please please let me know if anything fun and kinda teenager-oriented is going on, Manhattan or Brooklyn both work - rachelkb at

Love Ahoy!

Originally uploaded by honeythighs.
This sounds so cool. It's a live dating show at Galapagos! I want to go do it...I'm gonna try to make it on the 8th, details below or at

The Love Boat sets sail on a collision course with The Dating Game in New York City’s only live action nautical-themed game show whereby three lovely bachelorettes compete for the coveted title of "First Mate".

Join your hosts, the legendary ladies man Jake Stronghorn and the "Red Hot Redhead" Miss Allison, along with Captain Schtüpping and the rest of the S.S. Hot Yacht crew for this hour-and-a-half long variety show, which features schmaltzy songs, hilarious sketches and titillating burlesque as part of the on-board entertainment. Special guests include dating advice columnist Erin Bradley, aka “Miss Information”.

Love Ahoy! is a FREE monthly event at Galapagos Art Space, Brooklyn on Wednesday, March 8th at 8:00 p.m. with a DJ dance party to follow.

Mondaylicious links

From Gawker:

"only a true friend would tell you to be a better whore."

From my awesome best friend:

"Sometimes you have to have sex to make up for previous sex."

Girlbomb rightfully blasts the FDA in "Plan A, Don't get pregnant" - seriously, Plan B not being over the counter is FUCKED UP. WE have these tiny amazing little pills that actually allow you to not get pregnant after having unprotected sex, yet there's a whole bunch of expense and rigamarole involved in getting them for no scientific reason whatsoever. (Sorry, for a minute there I forgot that I renounced being a feminist.)

Also, unless you're against porn, condoms and birth control, please don't buy Domino's Pizza.

A FORMER marine who was raised by nuns and made a fortune selling pizza has embarked on a £230m plan to build the first town in America to be run according to strict Catholic principles.

Abortions, pornography and contraceptives will be banned in the new Florida town of Ave Maria, which has begun to take shape on former vegetable farms 90 miles northwest of Miami.

Tom Monaghan, the founder of the Domino’s Pizza chain, has stirred protests from civil rights activists by declaring that Ave Maria’s pharmacies will not be allowed to sell condoms or birth control pills. The town’s cable television network will carry no X-rated channels.

Lastly, Heeb storytelling. They asked me to do this and I chickened out, and now I have 2 more months to build my nerves because I think I'm gonna do it in May. This one has some of my favorite peeps so I will be there.

Heeb's critically acclaimed Storytelling series returns with Passover-themed stories from Dan Allen (comedian, poet and scientific philosopher), Vivien Goldman (author, The Books of Exodus: The Making and Meaning of Bob Marley and the Wailers' Album of the Century), Andy Horwitz (downtown performer), Elliot Kalan (producer, The Daily Show), Anya Kamenetz (author, Generation Debt) and Yuri Lane (beat-boxing sensation).

DATE: Tuesday, March 28
TIME: 7 p.m.
LOCATION: Mo Pitkins, 34 Avenue A, Manhattan

The World Famous *BOB*

Originally uploaded by semyon.
If you haven't already, you must run out right now and check out The World Famous *BOB* at Galapagos tonight, or else very soon all over town. She won "Best Tits" from the Voice in 2002. She is gorgeous, fabulous, and utterly creative, and can mix a martini in her cleavage. I just interviewed her for my Voice column, the one that's proving one of my funnest to write (save for, well, the ones where I'm doing "hands-on research").

*BOB* is one of those people who make me realize how much I love love love New York, how even though I'm sure every city has its entertainers, I'm gonna be a total snob and say we have the best, and I'm so honored to live here. Even when I can't go out as much as I want to, living in such a continually creative, fabulous environment, and getting to, in some small part, add to it, means the world to me. I always go back to this, because it boomerangs and hits me again and again when I've forgotten, that New York is the least lonely place I can imagine. Last night, looking around the party, it was full of community and friends and people from such disparate but interconnected parts of my various worlds. It wasn't my party but I got to float through it and chat and mingle and realize that, after almost 10 years, New York is so most definitely my home. It's where I feel the most alive, and it has so much to offer. We are so lucky and sometimes I forget or shrug it aside, but the fact that on any given night I can go see hot burlesque babes shaking their booties, people who will make me pee in my pants laughing, writers who will dazzle me with their stories, or just wander through streets and bookstores and cafes and bars, play board games or cuddle or just make lover to my laptop if I want, is so vital. It's good when I'm forced to remember that all of life doesn't happen in front of a computer screen, and it really is people like The World Famous *BOB* and Tristan and so many others who help create a culture not just of sexiness, but of pleasure and acceptance for everyone. So yeah, go check out *BOB* and her boobs very soon.

Photographer recommendation: Paul Sarkis

A lot of people have been asking me for photographer recommendations, so I want to recommend a wonderful photographer who we ran into last night at Tristan's party, Paul Sarkis. He's fabulous to work with, and took a bunch of me naked and clothes, playing with cupcakes. He's also photographed Joanna Angel (in killer shoes), Seymore Butts, Violet Blue, Shari Goldhagen, Elizabeth Spiers and a bunch of other people. I highly recommend his work, so check it out and contact him if you're looking for headshots, photos for your website, flyers, etc.

Photos by Paul Sarkis

The party

FUCKING ROCKED. That's really all I have to say about it at the moment though you just might read about what a great time I had there and afterward in my next Voice column. Huge congratulations to Tristan for what I'm sure is a smokin' HOT video and what was certainly one of the best parties I've ever been to. Also: I'm all better!

Please fuck me with a sex stereotype

Or, "Because who really needs that pesky feminism anyway?"

I didn't get into Yale, where this email came from, so maybe I'm just not smart enough to understand the real meaning of feminism. So much for that Berkeley Women's Studies degree (actually, it's pretty worthless, so I really do mean that - the rest of this, if you can't note the sarcasm, stop reading here). If saying that, um, I sometimes like guys to pay for me on dates and I sometimes like to pay for them makes me not a feminist, alas, guess I never was one, right? Oh, and be sure to tell the bloggers over at Feministing, and, oh, I don't know, all those "feminist" readers I have too that I'm part of the problem. Or maybe they're brainwashed like me?

Hi. I'm not a regular reader, in part because whenever I do read your column, it's something like this one:,bussel,72321,24.html

All you accomplished in this column was to reiterate that many other people who write brainless articles about dating are just as willing to embrace traditional sex stereotypes as you are. Here's the thing. If you want to embrace traditional sex stereotypes, fine. I disagree, and frankly, so do a heck of a lot of readers of the Village Voice who are too annoyed to bother to write to you. But really, if you're going to embrace sex stereotypes, please don't call yourself a "feminist." That's just insulting to feminists everywhere.

I think your piece reflects an unwillingness to consider the plain consequences of what social conventions you choose to embrace, as opposed to question. You seem to see some of those consequences, but you just don't want to focus on them. E.g.:

If a guy simply pays without making a big deal out of it, I'm impressed. It shows generosity and a bit of macho protectiveness that even my feminist leanings don't want to quench. I realize it sounds contradictory to demand equality but still want men to pay, but I'm not advocating being a dinner whore.

It doesn't just "sound" contradictory. It _IS_ contradictory. And the obvious contradiction has nothing to do with prostitution. Expecting men to pay because they are men is part of a whole cluster of social conventions that, taken collectively, are extremely destructive of equality in ways I'm sure even you can see. This kind of convention is part of what makes men think that a huge part of their desirability is their wallets, whereas for women (these conventions assert that) a huge part of their desirability is their physical attractiveness and thinness. People arrange their lives accordingly: I'm sure you can see that men around you arrange their ambitions so as to focus on earning more money -- to a much greater degree than women do -- because of conventions like this one. This may not be as bad as anorexia, but it's a similarly obvious submission to oppressive social conventions about what each gender's attractiveness consists in. And don't even pretend you are offering any serious argument that "macho protectiveness" -- which is apparently bound up in your mind with having a penis -- is some kind of non-oppressive, gender-neutral idea. That idea that men are supposed to be protective and powerful completely distorts the self-images and choices of both men and women. This is the kind of oppressive convention that makes it so hard for all of us of both sexes to live free. Individually, sure, we can behave in ways that don't follow any given convention -- but until columnists like you stop repeating and justifying these conventions, we'll always be "exceptions," and most people will just unquestioningly follow whatever the conventions say, out of fear of social rejection and a desire to be accepted.

You are obviously so caught up in the stupid assumptions of your genre (i.e. women who unthinkingly embrace various gender stereotypes) that you can't see how blatantly anti-feminist it is to blithely write as if we all live an amoral universe where no repressive social conventions impact anybody's life choices or options or ability to make themselves what they want to be.

I don't ask that you write actual feminist columns pointing out the patriarchal bullshit that surrounds issues like "who pays." That would be nice, but all I ask is that you honestly confront the degree to which you are choosing to build up and embrace sex stereotypes rather than tear them down. Think clearly about it and then tell us what you really think. Either stop treating this kind of oppression as trivial or stop referring to yourself as feminist. It confuses people. Also, it makes it impossible to take you seriously.



Sunday, February 26, 2006

Getting better

Not much to report. Was in basically a head fog for four days and yesterday just slept for hours and hours, working in a tiny bit of writing and phone calls. Went to the gym today and am desperately trying to catch up on everything. Had a frantic half hour looking for my keys...which were in my purse. That kind of weekend but the gym felt great, and my mind, from all those hours lying down and drifting in and out of sleep, is highly fertile. That's about it, much going on tonight and this week that I'm trying to get a head start on, interviewing some people for my Voice column and just trying to remember everything I need to remember. Not very exciting but tis all necessary. Happy Birthday to Rachel F. and sorry I missed your bday party.

Also, Tuesday night, Mary Lou Lord is playing at The Living Room. Barring a high fever, I'm so there.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Starting my 2007 must read list




New York, NY–Critically acclaimed novelist, essayist and performance artist Jonathan Ames’ first original graphic novel THE ALCOHOLIC will be published by Vertigo, the For Mature Readers imprint of DC Comics, in the fall of 2007. The project was announced by Karen Berger, the Vice President and Executive Editor of Vertigo during the New York Comic Convention on Friday, February 24, 2005. Ames is best known for his critically acclaimed novel Wake-Up, Sir. Grove/Atlantic recently published his new collection of autobiographical essays, titled I Love You More Than You Know, to great acclaim.

THE ALCOHOLIC will be written by Ames and drawn by artist Dean Haspiel who recently garnered critical acclaim with his work on Harvey Pekar’s The Quitter. It is Ames’ first project with DC Comics and Vertigo. In this graphic novel, Ames explores the heart of a struggling writer, just coming off a doomed romance, searching for rays of hope through the tatters of his broken life. In THE ALCOHOLIC, “hope” manifests itself at the bottom of a liquor bottle.

“Jonathan Ames’s lyrically strange and offbeat view of the world is perfectly in sync with Vertigo,” said Karen Berger, VP and Executive Editor of Vertigo. “We’re thrilled to be working with him and artist-extraordinaire Dean Haspiel on this intensely personal, outrageously funny and wonderfully poignant story.”

“THE ALCOHOLIC is Jonathan Ames' first graphic novel, but it’s classic Ames, so unflinchingly personal that it’s hilarious, in a laughing-through-the-pain kind of way,” said acquiring editor Jonathan Vankin. “Dean Haspiel is the perfect artist to capture the effortlessly shifting tones of Jonathan’s story, from wistful melancholy to heightened physical comedy.”

About the author:
Jonathan Ames is the author of the novels I Pass Like Night, The Extra Man, and Wake Up, Sir!, and the essay collections What's Not to Love? and My Less Than Secret Life. He is the editor of Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs. A new book of essays, I Love You More Than You Know, was published in January 2006. He is the winner of a Guggenheim Fellowship and is a former columnist for New York Press. Ames performs frequently as a storyteller and comedian and has been a recurring guest on the Late Show with David Letterman.

ABOUT THE ARTIST: Dean Haspiel is the author of super-psychedelic romances and semi-autobiographical comics. He was nominated for a 2002 Eisner award for "Talent Deserving of Wider Recognition," and a 2003 Ignatz award for "Outstanding Artist." He recently collaborated with Harvey Pekar on The Quitter, The Escapist, and Vertigo's upcoming re-launch of American Splendor. Dean is currently drawing Fallout, a meta-human pulp noir for Speakeasy Comics, and Billy Dogma for the online comix studio, Act-i-vate, while writing his Brooklyn bruiser memoir Lift Here to Open.

Even more link love

Because it's that kind of a night:

GirlyNYC giving you a preview of Tom Zoellner's book The Heartless Stone: A Journey Through the World of Diamonds, Deceit, and Desire and the perfect companion, Jill Solloway's hilarious essay "Diamonds"

A haiku for the sexless (and let me just be a little TMI for every freaking person who emailed me to say "three months? try a year/five years/20 years/etc." - 8 months is a long time without the sex, seriously. I am pretty sure it will not be another 8 months though, let alone 8 weeks, but whatever happens, happens. This amused me nonetheless.)

Karyn Bosnak wants to know what words gross you out ("moist" creeps her out; I'm still thinking about my answers)

Please deliver Judy McGuire's mail

Claire Zulkey interviews Self-Made Man author Norah Vincent

Paul Barman interviews documentary filmmaker Alfred Maysles (Grey Gardens is being rereleased on DVD with previously unseen outtakes)

So blasphemous yet so hilarious

Well, maybe not that blasphemous. As for hilarious--if I'd been drinking diet coke when I read it, I'd have spit it all over my computer screen.


March 14th @ 10pm
Mo Pitkin's
34 Avenue A b/w 2nd & 3rd Sts.

The KOSHER COCK SHOW is a sausage party of Bar-Mitzvah boys gone bad,
breaking up any stereotypes you had about the Chosen ones. Why control
the banks and the media, when you can be like these guys - broke and in bed til'
noon. See your favorite downtown j-boys in a comedy and music extravaganza
guaranteed to thrill everyone but their mothers.

The KOSHER COCK SHOW features a gefilte fish of greatness; Comedians
Todd Levin (Comedy Central & Aspen Comedy Festival), and Seth Herzog
(VH1, Stella, The Baxter), introducing insane singer/songwriter Joel
Moss, sideshow extraordinaire Adam Rinn and hosted by Nightlife's Favorite Rodent,
Scotty the Blue Bunny.

This Purim, The Borscht Belt is turning blue with whole megillah of
would-be mensches who pull out the punchlines, sing filthy songs, wear
bunny suits and swallow ... swords, that is. This is a very special and
unique show, you don't have to be Jewish to enjoy "those crazy yids" work it.

Leave yo' bubbe at home and come crow with THE KOSHER COCK SHOW.

my "potential" mishap

One thing I've learned from working at Variations and doing my Voice column (and this latest one is #36, still hard to believe), is not to use the same word twice in a row, or even in the same paragraph. Usually I'm good about catching it, perhaps more often in other people's writing than my own. It wasn't until I saw it on Derek's blog that I realized I used "potential" twice in a row:

It’s crass to have to think about money when you’re trying to connect with the potential love of your life, and there’s potential for miscommunication and mistrust.

This is a case where reading it out loud isn't quite the same as reading it to yourself. I'm not perfect about reading my actually out loud, even though I know I should, but in my defense, the first "potential" is being used as an adjective, the second as a noun, and when I do say them, I pronounce them ever slightly differently. If I had to describe them, the adjective would end on a slightly higher note than the noun a little lower, maybe because of the context - the former is a good thing, the latter is a bad thing. Anyway, just one of those "oops" situations and I thought I'd be a total word nerd and share. Clearly, I am feeling much better in that I can quibble with myself over phrasing.

Seriously, it always amazes me how cathartic writing is for me, especially because I'll put off personal writing/blogging/journaling thinking it's not "important." I go through this mental debate that goes something like: "well, why type it up when you've been having these same thoughts spinning in your head over and over? No one really cares and what's the difference anyway? You'll get over it soon enough." But then, well, the thoughts don't go away, and they don't just stay in their same tidy little circle. They get darker and darker, until I'm second guessing every single minute decision I made, berating myself for this, that and the other thing, going over all these little things to see where things fell apart. And that's so pointless. But still, I always forget that while writing may not solve anything, it's most likely not going to make it worse. And somehow, without my even noticing, after purging all those thoughts, I really did feel better. And not mad or bitter or all that upset, just more disappointed. And not only do I have the most fabulous, supportive friends in the world, but situations like this force me to really ask myself, "Do you regret your actions?" "What would you do differently?" And really, the answer is no, and nothing.

I can't walk around expecting people to disappoint me or thinking the worst about them, or thinking the worst about myself. I finally have reached a point in my life where I think I can make intelligent choices about sex and dating, where I'm not so desperate that I feel overly flattered when someone likes me. I just sortof wait and see what life brings me. I don't think I'll ever be a checklist kind of girl because people, real ones anyway, who think for themselves, are so vibrant and creative and talented and unique, there's no way to cram all that individuality into a checklist. I don't like people because they fit some profile, and in fact, I probably like them more because they don't. The manesia happens when people (this isn't always the case, but often) are boring, when they don't stand out, when they don't distinguish themselves. I'm not really attracted usually to boring people. And that doesn't mean I don't like quiet people; I think quiet people are often the most fascinating because so much is lurking under the surface, and when quiet people open up to me, I'm so honored to get to hear what they have to say. They're not like me, yakking away all day to anyone and everyone, and their thoughts are a little more guarded but still there nonetheless. Anyway, my point was that a) I'm a lot better and b) I can't regret or apologize for going with my instincts. They may lead me astray quite often but in the moment, I'm doing what feels and seems right, and that's really all I can strive for.

Latest Lusty Lady, "Who's Paying for Your Next Date?"

Lusty Lady column, "Who's Pay for Your Next Date?"
Deciphering the tricky triangle of cash, sex, and romance

If anyone has anything to say about drunk vs. sober sex (a preference for one or the other, good stories, sex gone wrong while drunk, sex while one of you is drunk, one of you is sober, etc.), please share them with me at rachelkb at - give me your name, age, anything else interesting about you, and what the story is. That one's running soon, as is boobiesexuals, then I have to see, I have too many ideas and not enough weeks. Well, I have plenty of weeks, because by the time I sit down to write them, my deadline is approaching, but I really do have columns planned all the way through June!

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One comment

I was going to say "no comment" but I have too big of a mouth. You can play along, Where's Waldo? style, and find the logical flaws in this essay from the SBC Baptist Press News, which is largely a response to my "I'm Pro-Choice and I Fuck" column and gives me a kindof backhanded compliment of acknowledging that abortion does, in fact, happen because of sex. I didn't have room to go into every nuance of my argument, but it should be clear from that column alone that I am not advocating rampant unprotected sex. I still do not see how one goes from procreation being a natural (and I would say "natural") result of sex (which he does not define) to meaning that every woman who has heterosexual, procreative sex should then automatically want to be pregant. He's basically saying you should be having sex to have kids, and if you get some pleasure thrown in, good for you, when I would venture to guess that most people not actively trying to get pregnant through sex would claim that pleasure as a good in and of itself. But it's not an either/or proposition here people-either have pleasure or have kids. And, hello, the birth control pill, condoms, are but the most recent incarnations of contraception, which people have been using for a hell of a long time.

I can much more easily understand (not necessarily agree with) someone being against abortion, but to basically be saying you're against sex without conception does not make sense to me at all. Okay, my one comment is threatening to become many, and I think you can just read for yourselves.

No doubt sex is pleasurable; however, pregnancy is the natural outcome of sex. It is not just something to engage in when bored, curious or seeking pleasure. If the primary purpose of sex was anything other than procreation, pregnancy would not be the result.

Blurbs = happiness

Various happy news: Last night, I found out about a sexual fetish I'd never heard of, and am not totally fascinated. More details later, but let's just say there's a new column in the making, and I may get to be a fly on the wall at a porn shoot.

We're getting some awesome flyers made for In The Flesh, where there will be even more book and porn giveaways, and even free drink giveaways in March (though not in April where I have so many readers we will be a tight squeeze). I would love it if you'd link to In The Flesh/post about it on your blogs, but I will remind you umpteen times in the next few weeks, so not to worry.

Also, 2 years ago I edited an anthology that's finally being released in a few months, called Glamour Girls: Femme/Femme Erotica. For the first time in my life, I have blurbs! From people I think are really cool, too. Go blurbs! The recently gawked GirlyNYC has a story in it, and so do tons of other fabuous writers. In fact, here's the TOC:

1. If You Can Make It There, You Can Make It Anywhere (A. J. Stone)
2. Scary Date (Trish Kelly)
3. Diary of a Lost Girl, Part I (Lori Selke)
4. Poseidon’s Paradise (Kiki Veronika)
5. The Dressing Room (Tara Alton)
6. Zenda (Anna South)
7. Schooled by a Straight Girl (Khadijah Caturani)
8. Dressing Desire (Tenille Brown)
9. Looking, Really Looking, At a Painting (Jessica Melusine)
10. Betty Came (M. Christian)
11. Cinderella’s Shoes (Kate Dominic)
12. Practice Makes Perfect (Joe Bishop)
13. The Crush Party (Michelle C.)
14. The G-String (Jen Collins)
15. Action (Ana Slutsky Peril)
16. The Game (Alison Tyler)
17. Lap Dance Lust (Rachel Kramer Bussel)
18. The Manicure (Nell Carberry)
19. Gumshoe in a Cocktail Dress (Shelley Rafferty)
20. Trash Talkin’ (R. Gay)
21. Alicia (Dahila Schweitzer)
22. Two Girls in a Basement (Cheryl B.)
23. Cup Cake (Tanya Turner)
24. Sugar (Diana Cage)
25. Power Sharing (Tania Britton)
26. Mercy’s Pocket (Tulsa Brown)

"Rachel Kramer Bussel has scored again with this terrific collection of TRULY EROTIC LESBIAN SEX STORIES. Glamour Girls is an original concept whose time has definitely come: femme girls who seriously get off on sex with other femme girls--all with no apologies and no excuses. This collection is not only a satisfying read for the seasoned connoisseur
of sex with feminine women, but it's also an excellent intro to girl/girl sex for the many bi-curious women out there."
- Marilyn Jaye Lewis, Author of Lust: Bisexual Erotica; Editor of Stirring Up a Storm; Founder of the Erotic Authors Association

"OFTEN THOUGHTFUL, FREQUENTLY DELIGHTFUL. . . . As Rachel Kramer Bussel points out in the thoughtful and engaging introduction, some consider a double-dose of sensual femininity to be nothing more than 'air on air.' She and 25 other writers unapologetically, articulately, and erotically disagree. Whether a nervous novice removing another woman’s clothing for the first time or a confident daughter of Sappho urgently pressing her painted lips against those of another, the femmes in this collection prove that they and their passion are more than 'air on air.'"
- Theresa "Darklady" Reed, Erotic Writer

"Not recognizable as dykes on the street, the heroines of the twenty-six stories in this anthology combine glamour with chutzpah and creativity in ways that are profoundly queer, unconventional but convincing. THIS BOOK SEEMS LIKELY TO BECOME A CLASSIC."
- Jean Roberta, Erotic Writer and Instructor, Department of English, University of Regina

It's Friday, I'm in link love

It's happy time again. Already it's all fading in my mind and I'm onto the future in which I will feel better, pronto, clean, have a place for everything, go to fun parties, and maybe even cuddle. Or something like that.

I'm in love with Advil Cold and Sinus, which has somewhat miraculously made many of my symptoms go away. I'm still a bit foggy-headed but it's not so bad. I skipped out on some fantasy erotic event and Poetry Vs. Comedy last night to dish about sex work and writing with Audacia Ray and Heather Corinna, who was in town to give a deposition about COPA. It was lots of fun and we had plenty to dish about. Also, can I just say how much I love this girl? Shotgun and all. She rocks.

These links make me happy too:

Things You Should Never Say To a Girl On Valentine's Day" by Mindy Raf

Greta Christina on writing, creativity, and time - here's a snippet:

Only then can I start the actual churning out, the Godawful hard work of dredging through that black wordless place in my head, dragging out the stuff that might be good and trying to wrestle it into coherent sentences. It's like I'm tricking myself into writing, sneaking up on my brain and gradually turning up the gas. (Like a lot of writers, I don't really enjoy writing all that much. I enjoy having written -- but the actual writing part usually kind of sucks. I'd give it up, but not writing sucks even more.)

The fabulous Kevin Keck can't get readings booked because of the explicit nature of his writing

My friend Joel Keller interviewed Lisa Loeb: Part 1 and Part 2

Thursday, February 23, 2006

The problem with fuck buddies

What I was going to write in response to Miriam's column is that my problem with fuck buddies and why I can't really have them is that I care too much. When I sleep with you, or even way before that, when I meet you and you make me laugh, say things to me that nobody else ever has, are unique in a city full of posers, I want to know more, I want to know everything. I want to know what your tattoos mean, I want to know what you look like when you eat your favorite food, I want to know what brought you to New York, I want to know dorky little things, like what toothpaste you use and what makes you cry and your musical guilty pleasures. I want to know all the little, silly things, like what vitamins you take and how often you talk to your parents. I want to know so many things and I guess I do this thing where I think I can find out some of that through sex, not the details, but something deeper, something that only comes out when we’re at our most passionate and vulnerable. I’m always fascinated by the sides of myself that come out during sex, the things I can’t afford to have emblazoned on my sleeve every day or I’d never survive. I really don’t have much of a poker face, I pretty much lack the ability to act any way other than how I feel, but at the same time, I can be a little reserved, a little waiting to see what the other person wants me to be. But there usually reaches a point where I let all that fall away and am just myself, and when I can transcend the everyday world with someone else, even if it’s just for a little while, I grab that chance without usually thinking twice. I grab it because I need it, because I can’t live in my everyday world all the freaking time. And this time, well, it was in part the 8 long months, but I’m not really a numbers girl. I can’t blame it on alcohol or anything else. I wanted it, I wanted him, I wanted something that you can’t get from witty email banter or drunken groping. I wanted, and I guess I got, something realer, fiercer, rawer. I went somewhere that made it okay to go with my instincts and fuck adulthood and just be a little bit not 30 for a little while.

I can’t regret that. Sometimes it comes out in the words. It’s not verbatim, it’s not a fucking transcript, but in my dreams or right afterward, these images pop into my head, and I try to capture the mood, the sense of what happened, the things that haunt me for days and weeks and months. The way a certain word or touch or look emblazons itself onto me and affixes itself to my brain, the way a few hours seem to stretch out into so much more.

I go back and forth between wishing I were more chill, wishing I could swoop in and out and not go that deep, wishing I didn’t remember as much or feel as much. I wish I could really feel that sense of nonchalance all the way inside, not just in the look I plaster on my face while trying to keep it together at the bar. But whether I like it or not, that’s not me. I wish I were, for once, the one someone wanted, instead of, oh, the lying sociopath or the married woman in another state or nobody at all. It's hard to feel like you'll ever measure up if that's the standard, and yet I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to improve myself, and sometimes I feel like it's all for naught. I'll never be whoever it is, the kind of girl who someone actually picks as their first choice.

But, in happy news, I am moving on. I’m really sick right now so my head is cloudy and foggy, and my heart’s a little erratic as well. I’ve been thinking about all the people I love, the ones who make me happy in little ways, the ones I want to impress, though impress isn’t really the right word. I want them to be proud of me, to know who I really am and like me anyway.

I’m not gonna dwell on the Tuesday drama anymore, because it’s over and done with. I made a decision and whether it was right or wrong, it happened and everything can be a learning experience. I can’t fault my judgment or regret going with my instincts because that’s all I have to go on. I can hope that I find people I connect with in the ways I want to connect with them. I will just say that at one point, he was asking me what I need. That wasn’t the time to share, because he clearly didn’t really want to take more than a cursory moment to find out who I am. At the bar, though, I came up with air, diet coke, bags and hoodies. All of which are essential, yes, but even more (well, than air), I need people who open up my head, who open up my world. People who are unique, who say things to me that nobody else does. People who are alive, who are not just going through the motions. People who are so themselves they infect everyone around them with their presence, who make me want to know everything about them. People who bring something to my life, as individuals, that nobody else can. That’s a really tricky thing, to be irreplaceable, but I could tell you off the top of my head so many gorgeous, amazing people who I have such a powerful connection with. Sometimes it’s silly and so personal that it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. It’s a nickname or a private joke or a memory of a trip or a special word. It’s the way their smile lights up a room, it’s the way we read the same books or laugh at the same comedians or roll our eyes at the same annoying social antics. That’s what I need, yes, even more than my beloved diet coke.

It’s why there are still things, like Tasti Di Lite and Zagats and In-N-Out that just belong to K. They’re ours, and I always get a little bittersweet pang when I see them. It’s hard because I realized that despite thinking I can be all Bridget Harrison nonchalance, that’s not really who I am. I care, and it doesn’t take me long. It doesn’t take me long to want to send you cards and care packages, to want to do your dishes and cuddle and tell everyone about your band or whatever. I’m like that with everyone, and I know I sometimes come on too strong, but I believe in people so much, I want everyone to know how brilliant and amazing they are, and thankfully, most people can deal with my overzealous fandom. I know some people can’t; it confuses them and freaks them out, and that’s okay. But the ones who get it, who let me dote on them in my dorky little way, they make me happy.

And that need, that he so clearly misread, is probably the one that’s most vital. I need people to need me, to want me around, and sometimes I take it to a maybe too intense level. I want them to like me so much that I think the only way that can happen is if I give and give and give. But I also like it, I like bringing food, bringing presents, I like being full of stuff. I feel naked and empty with just a tiny bag, with nothing to offer but me. Sex may exacerbate this, but it’s not a sex thing. I’m not presumptuous to think that in a city like New York anyone needs me for sex but I always think that maybe they need, or at least, want me for something else, for my own unique personality thing that I bring.

Where I seem to go wrong is misreading that connection, in thinking something has transpired when it’s really all in my head. I really don’t know, I don’t have some grand conclusion or lesson. I’m not angry, well, maybe a little, I’m more sad because while I love meeting new people, I am not out to collect millions of new lovers or friends. I just want to find people who have something worthy to say, who make the world a better place just by existing, and maybe, maybe, find a way to have something personal and special with someone that isn’t just one-sided, that doesn’t end with me in that same really lost space trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. I know, believe me, I KNOW, “it’s not me,” blah blah, but there’s only so many times I can face the exact same situation and not figure out that I’m doing something wrong. It’s sortof ironic that in the midst of my Rachel makeover campaign I feel so miserable, but I think the one way being totally sick and also totally mentally blah is good is that I remember that I’ve been sick before, and I’ll get over it. That makes me feel a tiny bit better, but doesn’t really solve all that much. I still feel really, well, rejected, for lack of any other better word. What to do with that feeling, how to move forward, is what I’m trying to figure out. What I’d like to do: spend a week in bed eating peanut butter chocolate Soy Dream and sleeping. What I will do: keep getting up every day, keeping being open to the future, to new possibilities, to liking myself a little better, to knowing I can at least control my own actions. And maniacally working my ass off and plan my beachy vacation.

When I read this originally, I was all fired up and thought she was totally wrong, but now I’m like, “oh, me too.” Lisa Dierbeck wrote in O magazine last year:

Sex strikes me as too intense a venture to be taken lightly. Thrilling and uncertain, it involves baring your soul, not just tearing off your clothes. Because sexuality is a powerful, anarchic force over which we have little control, it's soothing to pretend it's not big deal. I used to be blase about it. I treated sex like a swimming pool. Instead of hesitating, I always plunged right in. Now, as a reformed tramp at 40, I look back at my wild ways and wonder what planet I was on. I have more respect for sex, its hazards and surprises. Watch out for that sweet dark-eyed hunk at the watercooler; he may turn out to be a mean, manipulative jerk. And if you're hell-bent on a casual liaison, you might miss that shy, bespectacled geek at your local library who could set your heart aflame and worship you. Either way, a sexual experience is unpredictable. Offering a rare chance to feel transcendence-an ecstatic state that transports people outside themselves-the sexual embrace has a strong spiritual side. Whatever happens, having sex with someone changes you.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Tristan Taormino is the girl with the most ass cake

Visit Tristan's site (NSFW) for a coupon to print the page to get in for $10. 2 words: ASS CAKE!!!!

Adam & Eve and Tristan Taormino
Backdoor Betty 3

The official launch party to celebrate the release of the second edition of Tristan Taormino's book
The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women
and her new video
Tristan Taormino's House of Ass
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Crash Mansion
199 Bowery at Spring Street, NYC
Doors open at 8:00 pm
Meet Adult Superstars
Joanna Angel & Justine Joli
Feast Your Eyes On 
A Preview of House of Ass & Exclusive Behind the Scenes Photos
Performances By
JonesTown & Bridget Everett

Signature drinks will be served in souvenir House of Ass pint glasses!
Enter to win an Adam & Eve sex toy basket worth over $1000!
Help devour the Backdoor Betty ass cake!
Get the book and DVD autographed by Tristan, Joanna, & Justine!

Admission: 21+, ID a must, $15 (includes $5 off the purchase of the video)
Get in for $10 if you print out this email!
All single men must be accompanied by a woman.
Transportation: 6 to Spring, J/M to Bowery, F/V to 2nd Avenue
Media: for guest list, email colten (at)
More info here:

Goodie Bag Sponsors:
Adam & Eve, Astroglide, At Least It's Pink, Babeland, Burning Angel, Cleis Press, Eon McKai, Eros Boutique, HoneyBun, JonesTown, Sphincterine, The Smitten Kitten, WackyJac


Get your Attention. Deficit. Disorder. on

Attention. Deficit. Disorder.

Attention. Deficit. Disorder.

I have yet to read this, though I will, because Erin Hosier said I must and I adore her taste. I can't make this but fyi. The book and Brad Listi are also MySpace obsessed.


Monday February 27, 2006
Barnes & Noble - Greenwich Village
396 Sixth Avenue (at 8th Street)
New York, NY 10011

Drinks to follow at Fat Black Pussycat (opium room)
130 W 3rd St. btwn. 6th Ave & MacDougal St.

A,C, E, F, V to West 4th

The Hottest True Confessions You'll Ever Hear

(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey,
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676

In April, New York’s hottest personalities share their 100% true sex confessions. From bad sex to porn obsessions to prostitutes and more, they’ll make you cringe, laugh, and turn you on (maybe even all three at once!). Featuring comedian Dan Allen, blogger and novelist Jessica Cutler (The Washingtonienne), Dategirl columnist Judy McGuire, Columbia Spectator sex columnist Miriam Datskovsky, memoirist and editor Felicia Sullivan, and your host, Rachel Kramer Bussel.

In the Flesh is a monthly reading series hosted at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by Village Voice sex columnist and acclaimed erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel. From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Future themed nights include GLBT stories and erotic memoirs.

Reader Bios:

Dan Allen is a NYC-based comedian and writer. He has appeared on Comedy Central's Premium Blend and is a regular contributor for Us Weekly's Fashion Police. He is currently writing Kevin Bacon's biography in the sixth person.

Rachel Kramer Bussel is a New York City-based author and editor. She is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations and a Contributing Editor and columnist for Penthouse and writes the Lusty Lady column for The Village Voice. Her erotic stories have appeared in over 50 anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004, and she’s edited her own collections, including Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 1 and 2. Rachel has also written for AVN, Bust, Metro, New York Post, Punk Planet, Time Out New York and Velvetpark.

Jessica Cutler is best-known as the author of The Washingtonienne, both the blog and novel of the same name, which was published by Hyperion in 2005 and optioned by Sarah Jessica Parker for a television series for HBO. She iscurrently working on a second novel.

Miriam Datskovsky is a 21 year old writer and a junior at Barnard College, Columbia University, where she studies human rights and political science. Ms. Datskovsky is the Editorial Page Editor for the Columbia Daily Spectator, authors the newspaper's bi-weekly sex column, and speaks and writes about relationships.

Columnist Judy McGuire has worked a number of very odd jobs in her life, including stints as an auto-parts delivery person, a heroin ethnographer, and managing editor of the well-known stoner journal, High Times. Ironically enough (to anyone whose known her for over a year), she writes "Dategirl," a sex & love advice column, for the Seattle Weekly. In addition to print, Ms. Judy has also worked in television, her latest gig being associate producer on a Court TV documentary about the murder of punk singer Mia Zapata, called Death of a Rising Star. Like everyone else and their mother, she has a blog:

Audacia Ray is a New Yorker, writer, sex worker rights advocate, alternative model, safer sex educator and intrepid pervert. Her writing has appeared in Everything You Know About Sex is Wrong, The SexHerald, and the forthcoming First-Timers: True Stories of Lesbian Awakening. She is executive editor of the Utne Independent Press Award winning $pread magazine, writes and edits porn site reviews at, and was named #3 on Fleshbot's Top Ten Hotties of 2005. Audacia blogs and shows her boobs at

A New-York based writer, Felicia Sullivan's work has been published in Swink, Post Road, Mississippi Review, Pindeldyboz, Publisher’s Weekly, and the anthology, Homewrecker An Atlas of Illicit Loves. Algonquin Books will publish her memoir in 2007.


erotica snippet

Sometimes I do actually write erotica. This is a tiny snippet from my story "Choices," which is going to be in my anthology Ultimate Undies: Erotic Stories of Lingerie and Underwear, out from Alyson in August.

While she watched in the mirror, looking on as if viewing a live action peep show, which in a way this was, her hand dipped under the glorious silk, crushing it to her stomach as her fingers climbed their way to ecstasy, first meandering along her juicy slit, then pushing deeper, seeking more. She made herself keep watching, even when she longed to close her eyes and float way on the sensory overload of probing fingers and nipples pushing against silk, of hard and soft, bending, hiding, seeking, all joining together. From this angle, she couldn’t see everything, and that was okay. It was enough to watch her first two fingers disappear inside herself, emerging wet and gleaming before plunging back in. She stepped closer, so she was touching the mirror, her fingers fogging it up, humping it almost as her body writhed against the hard surface, the slip the third player in her little game. It was so light, had felt like nothing when she’d taken the bag from the clerk, but it was that lightness, that delicate touch that she had to focus on to feel, that kept her going.

Adventures in totally hot book covers: Try by Lily Burana

Cannot wait to read this one either. Strip City is one of my favorite books ever.




Plan B

All over again, as it were. I really thought I'd left those super miserable days of crying as I walk down the streets of Manhattan behind me, but I was wrong. At least I passed a bakery and got to do a little retail therapy at Borders (Reading Sex and the City and a pocket copy of Writing Down the Bones). Points for me for keeping it together when actually interacting with other people. And since I know whining about my super cliched situation of thinking some lame guy liked me for real is not sexy, and that I clearly need to go to dating remedial school, I'll just leave you with some women who've said things way better than I ever could. I think I will maybe just get "light entertainment" or just "wrong" tattooed onto me somewhere (though anything that gives me an excuse to indulge my love for Kirsty MacColl is okay). And develop thicker skin and try to do like Bridget Harrison, in a line I came across while reading her memoir Tabloid Love:

"The ability to act with blank-faced nonchalance towards someone with whom you had been in bed days before was a regular part of being single in New York."

My friend L was right, and I was completely, totally, utterly wrong, as usual, I guess. So yeah, Plan B, or C, or whatever I'm up to. I'm gonna be living at the gym and in front of my laptop, trying to somehow make myself better, smarter, tinier, worthy. Then again, I'll never be these other women who apparently possess all kinds of magical qualities I don't. Like being a sociopath, or married, or whatever. I do have some fun things on the horizon, like Boggle and maybe a boy who won't make me cry. In the meantime, I have a ton of other stuff to keep me busy, and have to work on my already highly developed manesia so I can just totally forget about any of this.

The Reputation, "Alaskan"

And in the end you took the easy way out so I let it go that seemed the easier route but I don't really feel like making you feel better about it don't worry I've done plenty of practicing these days I say goodbye more than anything and it's days like these that remind you why you learned how to tell such convincing lies you just shrug it all off and say everything's fine and when alaskan boys bear regretful smiles you return them all with the same flat eyes you think you're too old for this shit anymore but you try the other night you tried to explain I couldn't think what it would matter or why it would change things and darlin' you underestimated me every time you put your clothes on I'm so convinced it's over and still you keep comin' around you don't see what you're taking makes rules so we can break them and still you keep coming around but there's nothing I can say if that's just how you are nothing I can do to change your mind get us back to the way we thought things were I threw my hand down and walked away but I bet that you come back around some day.

Aimee Mann, "Deathly"

Now that I've met you
would you object to
never seeing each other again
cause I can't afford to
climb aboard you
no one's got that much ego to spend
So don't work your stuff
because I've got troubles enough
no, don't pick on me
when one act of kindness could be
Cause I'm just a problem
for you to solve and
watch dissolve in the heat of your charm
but what will you do when
you run it through and
you can't get me back on the farm
So don't work your stuff
because I've got troubles enough
no, don't pick on me
when one act of kindness could be
You're on your honor
cause I'm a goner
and you haven't even begun
so do me a favor
if I should waver
be my savior
and get out the gun
Just don't work your stuff
because I've got troubles enough
no, don't pick on me
when one act of kindness could be

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

True Porn 2 release party


On Monday, March 6th, comedian Liam McEneaney from VH1’s “Best Week Ever” co-hosts a Manual Release Party with cartoonist Robyn Chapman for the release of her new book, “True Porn 2.” The party will be held in the Lower East Side’s trendy Lolita bar, which is at 266 Broome St.

In 2003, Robyn and Kelli Nelson co-edited and self-published “True Porn,” an anthology featuring some of the underground comics scene’s best artists illustrating true sex stories from the front-lines of the new sexual revolution. The book was so successful, it sold out its first two printings in three months. Now they’ve hooked up with a publisher, Alternative Comics, to bring fans “True Porn 2,” featuring stories that range from a sad sack’s misadventures turning down offers of threesomes to a woman who slept with a guy so that he would build her a loft bed.

Liam and Robyn, who are not only throwing this party together but are also ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend, collaborated on a story for “True Porn 2” about Liam’s thwarted attempt to work as a mop-boy at a porn store when he was 17. Liam will be telling this story onstage at the release party.

Other performers scheduled to appear include Bob Powers (whose book “Happy Cruelty Day” will be published by St. Martin’s Press) reading a story about porn, “True Porn 2” contributor Karen Sneider (it’s her story about the loft), belly-dancer Leela Corman, burlesque dancer Nasty Canasta, and the all-cartoonist band Flaming Fire.

The party is Monday, March 6th starting at 8:00pm, at Lolita Bar – 266 Broome St., on the corner of Allen St. Admission fee is $5.00

Links for the lazy

The lazy one being me. And thanks for everyone who's said kind things in the last few days. I go up and down, all the time, within the span of a day it can happen several times. I've been both trying to kick my own ass by eating healthily and not torturing myself mentally, and getting about a zillion things done, so my sleep's been off and I've been a little emotionally erratic. So many good things all at once, a few so-so things, just a lot on my mind. Fingers crossed that I get a few days in Puerto Rico in the sun, where all I have to do is lie around, swim, and change diapers. I so need that right now, but really, good things are in the air, I can feel it.

Karyn Bosnak sells her book 20 Times a Lady (which I'm dying to read!) to New Line

Karyn Bosnak, who became a mini media sensation three years ago for her lack of credit-card restraint and for the Web site she created in order to beg for cash from the public, has sold her upcoming novel to New Line Cinema.

"20 Times a Lady," which will be published in July by HarperCollins, centers on a woman who has hit her sexual quota -- 20 men -- and decides to track down the previous 19 guys, hoping to have overlooked "the one." Bosnak will write the adaptation.

Portia Da Costa defends erotica

I'm sure any erotica writer worth their salt wants their characters to seem as real and layered as they are sexy. Hell, story people aren't worth writing or reading if they're not properly characterised. There's also a perception here and there that in erotica there's only one type of relationship. The sex. Well, that's not true either. The characters in erotica can share tenderness, respect, mutual protectiveness, fondness, and even just plain platonic liking for each other, as well as the sex. And HEA isn't really a differentiator between erotica and erotic romance either. I've read plenty of erotica where the central couple end up together permanently and happily at the end, whether that's in a marriage or as a non married couple. They don't have to, but a lot of them do.

NBC gives lawyers a bad name by trying to halt You Tube showing "Lazy Sunday"

WFMU is giving away a bucket o' smut

"Inside Publishing: A Publicist's Guide to the Business" at Poets & Writers (via Mark Pritchard)

Joan Kelly at Coliseum Books tonight

The Pleasure's All Mine

The Pleasure's All Mine

Joan Kelly, author of The Pleasure's All Mine: Memoir of a Professional Submissive and subject of my latest Voice column, "Big Bucks for Pain Sluts," will be reading tonight at Coliseum Books, 11 West 42nd Street at 6:30 pm.

Adventures in book covers: Exposed, The Smart Girl's Guide to Porn, Daughters of Darkness

Cleis does such fabulous covers, I can't wait to see what they're gonna cook up for my the super HOT book I'm co-editing for them (out Spring 2007). I do a little private (and invisible) dance of glee when I get a killer story in.



The Smart Girl's Guide to Porn

The Smart Girl's Guide to Porn

Daughters of Darkness

Daughters of Darkness


Interview with May Chen, Editor, Morrow/Avon

Mediabistro From the Editors interview with romance editor May Chen, Editor at Morrow/Avon

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Monday, February 20, 2006

Rachel Hills is my new heroine

We clearly needed an Australian to debunk some of the overrought hysteria of Female Chauvinist Pigs. She makes a pretty spot-on analogy that teenagers are the modern-day Hester Prynnes, and boldly gives them enough credit to (gasp) think for themsleves! Because teenagers never do that, right? I really liked this because she highlights the good parts of Levy's thesis while attacking the negativity and pessimism (not to mention condescension, blame and judgment) inherent in her argument.

Today's young women, they say, are lewd, crude and overly forward. Their clothes are too short and too tight. Like Alanis Morissette, they go down on boys in theatres and on buses on the way to bar mitzvahs.

Where Nathaniel Hawthorne's Hester Prynne wore a scarlet letter "A" for "adultery", today's teenagers have been branded with a scarlet "S". But it's not that modern lasses have gone all wild and wanton on us, it's just that the poor things don't know any better.

"Raunch too hot to be true," by Rachel Hills, The Sydney Morning Herald

They may dress up as Paris Hilton for a party or sing along with Jessica Simpson, but that doesn't mean they're making amateur porn videos or throwing themselves over cars in string bikinis.

That's not to say that we shouldn't be concerned when 14-year-olds have sex in drunken, semi-consenting stupors, or are coerced into performing oral sex in cinemas, and that such events aren't just the stuff of urban legends. It's not to say that it isn't a problem that so many girls and women see "hotness" as an integral part of their value and power.

But the way to deal with it isn't by clicking our tongues and grounding the girls until they're 30. It's to have adult conversations and ensure they have the knowledge to make decisions that aren't based on low self-esteem or misinformation.
Read the whole thing

I hope some editor buys this 'cause I want to read it

Via Dystel

You're in the lobby of The SoHo Grand, or the St. Regis, or maybe it's the Four Seasons, eyeing the striking woman in head to toe Armani. She could be a trophy wife waiting to meet her CEO husband for a cocktail. Maybe she's the CEO herself, in town to close a major deal. Or maybe she's an escort. The law may call her a prostitute, but the only streets this woman walks are Fifth Avenue and Rodeo Drive. Neither nymphomaniacs nor emotionally scarred victims, today's female escorts are a new breed of sex worker carving out a large chunk of the women owned business movement. Motivated by the ease and power of the Internet, the ever-increasing desire for instant wealth and luxury, and a DNA makeup that's part risk taker, part entrepreneur, they defy stereotypes and challenge long-held notions about prostitution. 21ST CENTURY SEX WORKERS: INSIDE THE LIVES OF THE WOMEN GETTING RICH AS HIGH-END ESCORTS explores the lives of these women working in a profession far more fascinating than our own. Co-authors Lisa Orrell, owner of the largest escort community site in the world, and Michele Marchetti, an accomplished freelance writer in New York, take readers into a world largely untouched by the popular media and reveal why these women become escorts (forget the stereotypes - most of these women are ardent capitalists out to make a lot of money); describing movie-star lifestyles, complete with trips on private jets; explaining the social ramifications of their career choices; and narrating their wild experiences with high-powered clients.

Tucker Max defies the odds

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell

Don't know what the deal is with this but I think these were self-published or something, anyway Amazon tells me there are 2 out of print Tucker Max books, too. I'm a huge fan of the word "debauchery" so that would've sold me.

I've been thinking about it a little more, and I also realized that part of what I haven't seen before Tucker Max is a guy writing about sex—his sex drive, his sexual conquests, the specific sex acts he engages in—quite so openly, without couching it in humor, nerves, failure, coyness. Ames does it, yes, but this is a little different. Jonathan Franzen, take note (though I'm sure he'd find it awful and horrible and all those other things, because "every orgasm is more or less the same," right ladies? Or guys, for that matter. I know, when I really dislike something I've read, I harp on it, but I thought that was such a ludicrous essay (Franzen's "Books in Bed" which is reprinted in How to Be Alone) that I'm gonna keep talking about it.

Below (in ital) are the four reasons (edited slightly down from their longer originals) eebmore called me an imbecile (yes, I know he retracted that statement but still find his original comments worth quoting), and they're fascinating in light of Tucker, who probably gets laid more than, well, more than any guy I know. Or at least, that I know about it, because most aren't talking about their sex lives pretty much at all, or nowhere near in as much details, or crudeness.

I'm not saying everyone should be this way. Hell, I'm not. Which is why it's always weird for me when people call this a "sex blog" because I'm very rarely talking about my personal sex life here, not because I hardly have one, but because it's just not the right forum for it, for me. But anyway, I think Tucker's example alone (aside from the various other guys I brought up last time), should be enough to prove this isn't true, and that I was wrong—there are some straight guys talking about their sex lives, to much success, as well. I'm not sure why it's so rare, and yes, there are other men writing about their sex lives, but it's usually couched in the form of a problem, or an after-the-fact recitation. Rarely is it so up-front and honest, maybe for some of the reasons below, but if Tucker is making $10,000/month from his site, has a book (I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell) on the NYT bestseller list and has girls swarming him all the time, I think that's pretty interesting right there. Maybe it's in how you tell it, maybe it's in sounding utterly confident, I don't know. I did find it interesting that the Boston Globe asked him what his parents think about his current career/lifestyle. I still think it's a condescending and infantilizing question to ask any adult, male or female, a way of saying "you should be ashamed of yourself," but for once it's not a girl being asked.

1. Men do not write frankly about sex because nobody wants to read a guy writing frankly about sex. It would be the prosaic equivalent of listening to a goon come into the office and tell everyone that he "got some" the night before. Nooooobody cares.

2. Men do not write frankly about sex because nobody would believe him/them. See reason 1, and add disbelief. It would be fairly safe to assume that such a man is a goon, a moron, AND a complete liar.

3. Men describing specific details of sexual interplay is about as hot as seeing a man walk down the street completely nude.

4. This is the humdinger most important reason that men do not write frankly about sex on the internet. If word got out that a man was writing specific, graphic details about his sex life, said man WOULD NEVER EVER GET LAID AGAIN, for the rest of his life. Ever.

Brilliant, beautiful, and almost legal to drink

I can't even tell you (but I can show you a photo of her) how much Miriam Datskovsky brightens up my days. She's like the little sister I never had, but even better cause we never fight. She turns 21 tomorrow and is kicking the week off with another brilliant column, this time about fuck buddies.

If fuck-buddy sex can be identified by patterns, fuck-buddy communication looks more like a solid red 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle. So much is about how you play it. You want to play it cool so that he or she won’t think you’re interested in anything more—but not so cool that your fuck buddy stops calling you. Or you might want to play it cool so that he or she will be attracted to your chill attitude—but not so cool that your fuck buddy will think you’re not interested in anything besides sex. Everybody wants to play it perfectly; the trouble is that nobody sees things the same way. What one person thinks signifies romantic interest and what another person thinks signifies things are over may very well be one and the same

Send her e-cards tomorrow and read her column, "All Fantasies Aside" today.

Voice column help: Drunk Sex, Unsafe Sex, Number of Partners

I'm working on some new and some in-the-works-for-a-while columns, so if you have any stories to contribute, send me your name, gender, age, sexual orientation, location, occupation (if these are relevant, definitely need your name or a name, age, and gender) and your story to rachelkb at

1. Drunk Sex - how much did you drink? what happened? who was it with? did you see them again? Would the sex have happened if you weren't drunk?

2. Unsafe sex - What happened? was it a one-time thing or a regular occurence? Were you pressured into it? Did you regret it? Did you like it? Were there regrets/consequences/concerns?

3. Number of partners - Do you count the number of sexual partners you've had? Did you used to count and no longer do? Do you care, for yourself and/or your partners? Is there a lowest number acceptable and a highest? What does the number of one's partners signify to you?

(All of these questions are starting points - if you have some crazy story, which I'm sure some of you do, you can just tell the story in an email.) Thanks!!

Also still working on hair color fetishes and the dealbreakers sequel.

She looks like an egg, but she identifies as a cookie

San Francisco comedian Heather Gold is in New York this week baking chocolate chip cookies in her one-woman show!

"I Look Like An Egg, But I Identify As A Cookie"
by Heather Gold
Feb 21+22
Ars Nova
511 West 54th (west of 10th)
tix: 1.212.868.4444
tix also available at the theatre a half hour before the show
tix $15 - ON SALE NOW
Ars Nova was featured recently in the New York Times as one of the hot new Off-Broadway venues and has developed and presented great performers like Julia Sweeney, Sarah Silverman, Sandra Bernhard and Seth Rudetsky. Producer Jenny Wiener is also the brains and kishkas behind Jewcy which has been tummeling hipster NY.

Saturday, February 18, 2006


No, not Cereality.

Yesterday, at a hotel in New Jersey, I got to revisit my youth in the form of a chess tournament, and it wasn’t pretty. I read all these memoirs where the author walks you through their dorky adolescence, or their quirky one, or whatever, and as I sat there reading Hillary Carlip’s Queen of the Oddballs, I realized I couldn’t have picked a better title. When I was little, from probably about 10 until 16, I played chess all the time. I went to tournaments at least every other weekend, took chess lessons, went to chess camp. I still pretty much sucked at it cause I was lazy and didn’t like to study, I just wanted to play, but I did okay, won some trophies, squeaked by on luck and perseverance. Because there sare such huge ratings disparities between the sexes, I got to go to Brazil in 1991, for the US Under 16 World Championships. My friend J and I wound up playing chess for maybe 2 hours a day and spending the rest of it exulting in the fact that we could buy beer at the local supermarket. It was fun, a little adventure filled with drinking and boys and dancing and waterfalls. But being stuck back in that environment made me kindof recoil at just how big of a nerd I was, how much time I spent doing something I have no interest in now. It was all very surreal. I saw a few people I knew, and the manesia kicked in a few times. I had just come out of the main from checking on my dad’s game, when Susan Polgar came up and said hello. She greeted me very warmly, even though we’d only corresponded via email when I interviewed her. It was surreal—especially when I was growing up, the Polgar Sisters were famous. Big stars. Untouchable. Judit, Susan’s little sister, was in Brazil when I was there and I barely glimpsed her. They were so cool, so glamorous, so to have this internationally famous chess player come up to me and say hello was already surreal, but cool. She was very nice, wasn’t playing in the tournament but was observing and meeting with people. Then this guy came up to me and clearly knew me, and I just as clearly had no idea who he was.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asked, even though the look on my face said that plain as day.

“No, I’m really sorry,” I said, giggling a little to try to soften the blow.

“Guess who I am,” he said, and then I felt totally put on the spot. I suck at guessing things like that. I am the kind of person who will remember something from 20 years ago if I can, if it comes to me, but often can’t remember vital things I need to do today or what I did last week. My memory is very selective. So anyway, finally he told me his name and I think I know who he is/was, but I’m not totally sure.

Then, later, I was standing talking to another guy who I hadn’t seen in probably 10 years, who I wouldn’t have recognized, but he was really nice and I knew he’d gone to law school and he goes, “Yeah, this guy I went to law school with is a writer,” and before he said it I just knew he was gonna say Tucker Max. It was the weirdest thing—a month ago, I probably would’ve given him a blank stare, but now it feels like the man is everywhere. He even had 3 boxes of Tucker’s book in his car when he gave me a ride home, so we dished about that for a while. In the middle of all this another guy I didn’t recognize came by. He also seemed a but upset that I didn’t remember him, and I thought I knew him from chess, but it turns out I met him playing trivia at Baggot Inn a long time ago.

I think maybe it’s New York; people drift in and out of your life. You’re super close, best friends, email every day, want to know every detail of what’s going on with them at all times, and then, suddenly, you just don’t. You’re on their email list or see them at a show sometimes or read their blog, and that’s it. That’s fine, I realize it’s kindof a natural life cycle, but lately I’m trying to focus on my real friends. The ones I can tell anything to. The ones who are there for me. The ones who want to know more than what I write in some super lame blog. The ones who make me laugh, the ones I want to travel with, the ones who get the things I don’t say just as much as the things I do. So all these random people, like the ones I ran into, it was just weird. I felt totally out of place, so I dug into my book, and it also sucked cause I had errands I’d wanted to do and didn’t get home till 11. I hate being in places where I can’t escape easily. Where there is no public transportation and I’m at someone’s mercy to return home, especially when there’s little communication around when I will get home.

It makes me treasure being within my little world of Brooklyn and Manhattan all the more. At least we have subways (well, sometimes). I know that probably makes me a horrible snob, but as I was waiting around for hours I realized that writing is no long that little hobby I do once in a while. I mean, it is, of course, as I send out umpteen query letters and never heard replies I realize I’m still pretty much a nobody in the writing world, but still, I do have things I want and need to get done, things I want and need to get done, and have to really start making more time for them, even if that means putting everything else aside. It’s like being back in law school, having to skip the fun stuff, and watch from afar as everyone dodgeballs and goes out every night and I’m home. But at the end of the day, I feel like the biggest loser (not in any good way) when I let deadlines slip, when I fuck up, when I disappoint people, when I disappoint myself. When I make pretend “I’m writing a book” when really that’s just the biggest pipe dream ever. When I watch other people doing exactly what I want to do and just look at them as longingly as I do when cute babies get carried by in their parents’ arms on the street and I have to keep staring until they’re out of my line of vision. I hate this feeling of waking up and hating who I am, what I haven’t done, what I’ve become. I hate that, and yet only rarely do I step in and try to change my behavior. Very rarely do I step in and take responsibility and actually just cut the bullshit and do the work. But I’m trying, and I know this isn’t the place for it, because I don’t expect people to necessarily understand. It’s so internal, these amorphous goals, but I do have them. They’re so easy though to give up on, to assume that everyone else is smarter, knows more, has a master’s, gets it, that I will never achieve what I want to. But then something will happen, someone will out of nowhere show some incredible sign of belief in me, and even though I know it’s all supposed to come from within and fuck other people, I still need that. Because it’s not like I’m gonna be self-publishing this thing. So I have to try to remember those moments and pick myself back up, whether it’s from an unexpectedly long day in my home state or a night, day or week where I don’t get as much done as I’d hoped. I know I have to give myself some slack—it was a week of heightened debauchery, heart-pounding stress, a reading, a performance, deadlines, drama. Not every week will be like that, but I need to be more prepared, not so behind. I need to be ready for anything, as the book I read in Turkey advises. I need to take a little of the spirit of the Hillary Carlips and Tucker Maxes—of not trying to be like everyone else—and use it to believe that I can get there, even if it’s a few years later than planned, that my life won’t always be the way it is now, that tomorrow will be better than today. I believe those things, yet I also have to remind myself, a lot. And hey, I could be my utterly dorky 13-year-old self again. I will take 30, with all its unique challenges, charms and dilemmas, over 13, any day, even on my worst day.

I’m also working on things like taking responsibility for my actions, but not apologizing for things that aren’t my fault. More another time on how Fridays have been pretty sucky days lately (though seeing Grey Gardens with girlynyc was a delightful exception), but recently someone was pretty rude to me about something that I know was not my fault, but I felt so bad about it anyway. Maybe because I was kindof horrified that someone I had previously admired was so caustic towards me, when I hadn’t done anything wrong and it really didn’t seem like that huge of a deal to me, but after walking down 8th Avenue and almost bursting into tears (I settled for just a bit of tearing up, probably because I then had to go meet some people at a bar), I realized it was her problem, entirely, not mine. I mean, I did my best to rectify it, but at the end of the day, trying to take on everyone else’s drama is a surefire way to send me into big trouble. That’s also something I used to do and am trying to be a bit more of an adult about. I don’t pretend I’m all that mature just cause I’m 30. I feel as lost and confused as ever much of the time, but sometimes I can find ways to overcome that. Like writing, how funny, or not, how rarely I actually use writing to help me get over my inertia and freakedoutness. Not this drivel, but other stuff. I even wrote two stories this week, called “Animals” and “Feeder,” that might even get published if I’m lucky. Okay, now I must try to use my remaining weekend time wisely, especially because unlike almost everyone else I know, I have to work on Monday.