Thanks to Joseph Bone for shooting this. Even if Part 1 ends right as Eric is taking off his shirt. :p
Also great that night were Breathing Problem, comprised of fiances Rustey and Emilia. Apparently the night before they caused quite a controversy. Except by “caused a controversy” I mean they did a consensual BDSM performance and butt-hurt some sheltered collegiate 18 year olds, the kind who like to lecture everyone and everything on why they’re “problematic” and need a “trigger warning”.
I know I’ve talked before about my indifference to trigger warnings, despite my PTSD. But right now I’m frankly a bit pissed. And I’m not the only one. Look, it’s been acknowledged that people have different coping methods. For some of us the crystal-bath-with-the-aromatherapy-candles route doesn’t quite do the trick. (Not that I don’t still wish I had a bathtub rather than a structurally compromised shower stall. It was sacrificed in the war with the Evil Hippie Cult.)
Some of us make art. Some of us make art that might be considered extreme. Some of us sublimate pain in the service of a fulfilling game. The one where you’re fullfilled at the end of the day, according to Depeche Mode. Some of us self-medicate into oblivion. Some of us turn criminal. Some of you can’t tell the difference between turning criminal and all that other stuff I said. And so in the name of “progress” we see people embracing an almost Victorian attitude of women being wilting fragile flowers unable to handle even the slightest bit of negativity without needing safe space smelling salts. So-called allies who effectively wish to silence the survivors and sufferers they claim to advocate on behalf of. Why are trauma survivors who choose to express things outside the proper political narrative attacked while over in normie-mainstream-culture-land people like Roman Polanski , Bill Cosby, and the now maggot-eaten putrefied Kim Fowley get away with abuse for decades?
No no forget them. Apparently there are women out there claiming to do extreme or dark art of their own volition, AND THEY MUST BE STOPPED. Because women can’t POSSIBLY like that kind of stuff. They need “safe” spaces and positive role models at all times.
The kicker is I got into feminism because it offered an alternative to this notion that what’s between my legs means I have to be helpless and afraid. Yet in the past few years I’ve come to feel like I get thrown shade in some quarters because I’m not helpless and afraid all the time. Because I was a multiracial New Yorker before I was a feminist. To the Right of me are people saying I’m “overreacting” if I refuse to be mistreated, to the Left of me are people questioning my integrity because I refuse to be afraid of the people to the Right. And you all wonder why I’m so snotty and think so much is so stupid!