Bonita Mundo

Megan Bonnell "Apple Trees"

2010-03-14T21:46:00.000-07:00

MEGAN BONNELL - Apple Trees from Mitch Fillion on Vimeo.

Tonight this is my soft, glowing lullaby.

Gaga's on my speed dial

2010-03-12T19:52:00.000-08:00

She's done it again.

Mixin' hot bits and bites from Kill Bill, Thelma and Louise and grunge-meets-glamazon all-female prison sequences in "Telephone". The device has never, nor will ever look so nuts and sexy on any head but Gaga's.

This jarring, campy, seductive ride into madness is almost too good to be true. Like the moment when Beyonce becomes "mama" to Gaga, scolding her in the car and offering her a bite of her bar. Priceless.

Or dead-bar-full-of-bodies dance scenes with the star spangled banner painted on a crotch, not to mention killer silver boots. It makes me want Gaga to "serve me" up a sandwich.

I love that these ladies drive the pussywagon.

The Elwins "Propinquity"

2010-02-20T10:36:00.000-08:00

THE ELWINS - Propinquity from Mitch Fillion on Vimeo.

The Elwins on Myspace

Gregory Pepper "Drop the plot"

2010-02-13T10:44:00.000-08:00

GREGORY PEPPER - Drop The Plot from Mitch Fillion on Vimeo.

Gregory Pepper on Myspace

Tit-for-tat

2010-02-09T22:55:00.000-08:00

When I hear the words “sale” and “bra” pushed together my nips perk up.

Especially when the comfy-cups in question are of superior quality, not like those flimsy items that La Senza sells. Much like the illusion that bin after bin of padded “push up” bras offer, they lie (Must we, must we, must we all increase our busts? What happened to au natural?)

Once again, Secrets From Your Sister is holding a “Dead Bra Sale.” On Saturday, Feb. 13, 2010 you can put your tired bras to rest. Bring in a bra that is washed and in good condition (hygiene people) and get 25% off on a regular priced bra.

Sounds like a tit-tastic trade since the old bras that have had their run go on to romp in soft, laundry detergent scented pastures. In reality they are given a new home, a lovely new set of tats to support.

Every gently worn bra will be donated to Sistering, a women’s agency that provides programs and services to homeless, low-income and marginalized women in Toronto. A bra is something that is easy to take for granted. It may not be a necessity, but it’s a form of support, and for some women it can make all the difference.

The sale will go on from 10am until 7pm at both of their busty, bustling locations at 560 Bloor Street West (Bathurst station) and 2501 Yonge Street (Eglinton station.)

So whip em’ out for a good cause and you can get your paws on something special for the ladies. They deserve it.

Porn consumption stats: Who's dining?

2010-02-06T13:40:00.000-08:00

If the internet was an entity it would be a porn addict. The proof is in the profits. You need your fix and there are millions of options to choose from.

Buffet style, exotic cuisine, the obscene and everything in between. It’s disposable, fast food consumption and it’s interesting to note although we often turn to idealized fantasy in our sexual romps through cyber space (ie. Waxed, fake bodies, synchronized orgasms, non-stop jackhammer intercourse, and prolific moans) a movement of amateur, independent porn is emerging too.

For those of us who want to see people fucking who have some believable chemistry, real orgasms and less-than-perfect bodies there are other options, like feminist porn. With a mandate of real pleasure, women run production companies and mainstream stereotype challenging material it’s an organic alternative to the mickey D’s fare. But tastes vary, so here are some interesting statistics about the porn we consume.

Amount of pornographic websites: 4.2 million (12% of websites)

Daily search engine requests that are pornographic: 68 million (25% of total requests)

US adults who regularly visit pornography on the web: 40 million

Visitors to pornography sites who are male: 72%

Visitors to pornography sites who are female: 28%

1 in 3 visitors to adult sites are women

Statistics should be conveyed this way more often.

Lights "Ice" acoustic

2010-01-30T22:54:00.000-08:00

Burn Planetarium "Architeuthis, Skeleton, and Young Chameleon"

2010-01-22T18:30:00.000-08:00

BURN PLANETARIUM from Mitch Fillion on Vimeo.

Burn Planetrium MySpace

She’s Shameless:

2010-01-16T09:52:00.000-08:00

Women write about growing up, rocking out and fighting back
By Adriana Rolston

These are stories for every woman, young or old, who has ever felt like a misfit, or who don’t fit the mould of the “good girl.” Women who saw rules about how to look, think and act scrawled on the chalkboard and sought to furiously erase them.

She’s Shameless is an anthology of 25 women’s reflections on their experiences as girls and teens. But Shameless magazine editor Megan Griffith-Greene and publisher Stacey May Fowles make it clear in the introduction that these are not cautionary tales. There is no list of do’s and don’ts. What you’ll find instead are raw, defiant and honest journal-style narratives from women of different races and sexualities, women who are artists, activists or feminists, who often weren’t accepted by their peers and survived to tell the tale.

The short stories deal with guilt and rebellion about dating boys, loving girls, having small breasts, being too skinny, vaginas, having sex, self-inflicting pain, making zines, reading erotica, getting pregnant, having a baby or having an abortion, striving to be normal and learning that normal never existed in the first place. It’s evident that for every way to conform there is a way to break free.

These tales of girlhood and womanhood are powerful and relatable. When you read them, you will feel as though you know these shameless women, these strong sisters, these kindred spirits, even if you’ve never met them. This is the place to embrace their stories. m

Megan Griffith-Greene and Stacey May Fowles

*Featured in McClung's 2010 Winter issue

Feminist porn awards jury member contest

2010-01-14T21:16:00.000-08:00

Below are all the details for feminist porn enthusiasts out there who are eager and up for the task of watching hours of titillating clips for a good cause. And what better reason to avoid that 20 page Marxist theory essay than to fulfill your role as a porn awards juror and indulge in observing steamy scene after scene after scene.

That`s a lot of fisting, female ejaculation, strap-ons, curvaceous bods, anal beads and paddling, all in the name of enjoyable porn reviewing for the 2010 Feminist Porn Awards. So check out the application details from Good For Her`s website and if you think you have what it takes, prepare for the position by watching some warm-up vids now. Practice makes perfect, and pleasurable porn too!

Win a chance to be on the 2010 Feminist Porn Awards Jury Committee!

Ever want to watch the latest and greatest in Feminist Porn from the privacy of your own home? Ever want a say in which of these films is honored and shared with the world at the Feminist Porn Awards? In honor of our 5th anniversary celebration, Good For Her is launching a Jury Member Contest giving you (yes you!) an opportunity to sit on the jury committee and help select this year’s Feminist Porn Award Winners!

Participation Requirements:

If selected, you must:

* Keep all material and discussion strictly confidential until the ceremony.
* Be able to attend 2 meetings with the jury (out of town participants may phone in for such meetings)
* Think that feminist porn is a necessary, progressive and constructive form of erotic media that must be celebrated and embraced!
* Be willing to have your name published as a contest winner and jury member. (Pseudonyms acceptable)
* Be at least 18 years of age

If chosen, you will receive:

* The honor of watching all submitted Feminist Porn material (and keeping some content where appropriate!)
* 2 VIP tickets to the Feminist Porn Awards (Which include 2 VIP tickets to the awards show, 2 VIP tickets to Provocative.Public.Porn Screening on April 8th, 2010 and 1 VIP gift bag)
* A $100 Gift Certificate to Good For Her
* Bragging rights. Lots of them.

Please submit the following information to: chase@goodforher.com

Name
Address
Email
Phone

* 300 words about why you should be the next Feminist Porn Awards Jury Member!
* 300 word review of a porn DVD or erotic sex media form of your choice!

Failure to meet the requirements of the jury member contract will render all offers, benefits and compensation null and void. Jury members will be required to watch approximately 30 hours of pornography. Good For Her is not responsible for any injury that may result from being a jury member. Jury members must submit proof of age when requested.

Contest closes February 15th

You could help choose raunchy scenes like this. Oooooooh yeeees......

Changing Gears

2010-01-12T18:07:00.000-08:00

Women are the driving force behind Ms. Lube

By Adriana Rolston

Mathilda’s sitting on the hoist and she needs fixing. One of her headlights burned out, her washer fluid won’t spray and her driver’s side window doesn’t close all the way.

“Okay, so she’s a nightmare,” announces Maud Sailland, a licensed auto mechanic from France, as she walks into the office of auto shop Ms. Lube in downtown Toronto.

“Yeah, it sounds like it,” says Jessica Gilbank, the shop’s owner, sitting in stained jeans and a black T-shirt. Both women erupt into laughter. Mathilda, a grey van, will be alright. She’s waiting on a part and once it arrives, she’ll drive off the lot.

Gilbank has 13 years of experience as an auto mechanic and has put in time at car manufacturers Volvo and Mercedes-Benz. She was frustrated by the lack of women working in the auto shops she frequented and by the condescending attitude she sometimes got from male mechanics. “Like I’m a complete moron because I’m a girl and they’re just going to tell me whatever they feel like and I’m going to buy it,” she says. So she opened Ms. Lube, which is staffed solely by female mechanics—the first in North America—and hopes to open a second location one day.

Ms. Lube upholds a user-friendly environment by having clients deal directly with one of the five mechanics, not a secretary. Both women and men enjoy dealing with a female technician, says Gilbank, because they feel women will be more honest, communicative and careful in following instructions. She knows her staff won’t charge customers for unnecessary repairs and will only take care of what’s needed.

Safety is the top priority at Ms. Lube. “We look at it and say, ‘Okay, if this person is driving down the street and a little kid’s ball goes out in front of the car, are they going to be able to stop?’” says Gilbank.

When you walk into Ms. Lube, you’ll meet the cars since some clients name their rides. When Gilbank opened at College and Bathurst streets in March 2009, she knew that vehicles are often an extension of a customer’s personality.
The shop’s persona is reflected in the 1950s-era motif, with teal and orange stripes running around the walls and a cheeky pin-up style mechanic as the logo. But Ms. Lube hopes to offer more than auto service with a smile to customers. The second floor is being renovated into a lounge to display local art. It’ll have wireless internet along with yoga, self-defence and auto-maintenance classes.

Erica Reed, an apprentice from Centennial College, enjoys working in the mellow atmosphere at Ms. Lube, knowing that in a typical shop, men far outnumber women. In her high school shop class, she got razzed for being the only girl but she knew her ambitions to become a certified auto mechanic were more important than jabs about her gender.

Although entering a male-dominated profession can be intimidating, Gilbank sees that this is starting to change as more single women own cars and want to know how they work. Wrench Wenches is a group she recently started with female clients to show off their rides at car shows. They plan on getting matching jackets.

Gilbank believes society perpetuates the idea that fixing cars is “a guy thing” and many women think, “‘I’m a girl. I don’t really need to know anything about a car.’ I think that’s stopping.”

*featured in McClungs Winter 2010 issue

Olenka and the Autumn Lovers "No Coins"

2010-01-10T10:45:00.000-08:00

OLENKA AND THE AUTUMN LOVERS - No Coins from Mitch Fillion on Vimeo.

myspace.com/olenkalovers

olenkalovers.com

Florence and the Machine "My boy builds coffins"

2010-01-09T19:34:00.000-08:00

Mother Mother "Arms Tonite"

2010-01-09T19:13:00.000-08:00

MOTHER MOTHER - Arms Tonite from Mitch Fillion on Vimeo.

Regina Spektor performing Blue Lips

2009-12-29T19:05:00.000-08:00

Naughty Holiday cookies

2009-12-29T18:01:00.000-08:00

Fresh, delicious and nutritious McClung's!

2009-12-29T16:39:00.000-08:00

The new issue of McClung’s is born! Shiny and feisty, with that new magazine smell, it is a sight to behold.

But even if you can’t grasp its sleek design between your eager fingertips you can behold the beauty online. Now Ryerson’s magazine for independent, smart, sassy women is available here, to save you the trek to the nearest independent Toronto book store for those too far away.

You can browse or meander any of McClung’s three recent back issues interactively by flipping through each-and-every page and zooming in for close ups on articles and photography.

There are some awesome features about the world of “Wheelin’ Dames” in Toronto’s roller derby leagues, and the ways that intersexuality has become shunned from mainstream society and the medical community in “Charged with Gender”. There is even a She said/She said from a Barbie lover and a naysayer about whether life in plastic is fantastic or an anti-feminist statement. Then for anyone who has ever been curious about checking in with the ladies there is a DIY step-by-step breast self-exam.

You can check all that out and much more at McClung’s lovely new web site. If you thought it was hot before you were right, but now she has some nifty revamped features, like a happening blog and links to McClung's Rebel Grrrl's Music podcasts. McClung's radio features indendent female musicians and bands every Thursday from 5-6 p.m. on Ryerson's Spiritlive.net radio. So go take a gander and a listen and be sure to read the Winter 2010 issue of McClung’s on virtual newsstands now.

Friends in Bellwoods say goodbye to the cottage

2009-10-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

“We wanna party tonight because we got evicted from our house and we wanna tell our landlord to fuck off. Excuse my language,” said Casey Mecija, the pint-sized lead vocalist of Ohbijou, to gales of laughter at Lee’s Palace.

“And there’s no better way to do that than with orchestral music,” she said, beaming in a canary yellow sweater and purple pants on stage at the Friends in Bellwoods 2 release party on August. 28th.
Although it was slightly off putting to hear profanity with a grin from Mecija, it’s understandable given the fact that the Bellwoods cottage where sisters Casey and Jennifer lived, performed and recorded in collaboration with local bands recently closed down on Sept. 1. Apparently mold set into the dwelling where the first compilation album, Friend’s in Bellwoods, was recorded in 2007 to raise funds for Toronto’s Daily Bread Food Bank.

Skirting Trinity Bellwoods Park, the former haunt for intimate basement shows and collaborative recording sessions with indie bands such as Forest City Lovers and The D’Urbervilles may have passed on, but something will live on from it.
“I think having the compilations has made having to leave the house a little easier,” Mecija sighs. “The first compilation represents a very youthful, uninhibited time. Fast-forward to the compilation now, and everyone is in different stages of their lives, and they have different priorities and have been traversing the music industry in different ways. We don’t see each other as much, but it’s not as reckless — beautifully reckless. It’s not like that anymore. But having these compilations has actually made it less heartbreaking for me,” said Mecija in an Eye Weekly interview.

It’s almost fitting that the curtains close on what NOW once wrote was “the new epicenter of T.O.’s indie rock community,” as they release round 2 of Friend’s in Bellwoods, a 40-track double-album set of work from a slew of independent Canadian musicians.

Four bands featured on the album are playing tonight to a full house at Lee’s. Wee icicle lights cascade over speakers at the edge of the stage like layered petticoats and Kat Burns, lead vocalist of Forest City Lovers takes the stage in a pink one-piece dress with a tiny v-pattern. Her hair is tied back low, layered bangs falling over her face and a pale pink and blue guitar that is reminiscent of a 50’s malt shop rests against her form.

She pours out vocals both sweet and strong, like a shot of gin and liquorice burning down your throat. Butterscotch coats her vocal chords, melting in sugary dollops, a candy apple with a dark, toxic layer buried deep in the centre.

One minute the set is all New Orleans rhythm, voodoo magic and sway and then their tempo slows with a deep, haunting trio of violins rising and falling as members of Ohbijou join them on stage with strings and vocals harmonizing.

When the founding sisters of Ohbijou eventually clamber on stage amid a hodgepodge of instruments and the rest of the band in tow it seems like the crowd gets what they came for. Its also apparent that Casey isn’t letting an eviction notice get her down.

Jennifer Mecija stands with a violin perched on her shoulder in a dress of vibrant blossom print, her short hair framing her face with a clump of bangs lying above her eyes. Beside her Casey steers the helm of the band with an orange guitar in hand and her childlike crooning voice that meanders like a breeze amid clusters of trees, or the sweet sounds of her band mates.

Members of Forest City Lovers and Evening Hymns join them for a song and then in a wild flurry of instrument and body arrangement more than 16 musicians jump onboard the packed ship of a stage that Casey leads like a lighthouse on bustling sea. In the swarm of bodies, about four to a microphone, drummer James Bunton becomes hidden in the back of the crowd.

The second last song of the set, “New Years”, from their latest album Swift Feet for Troubling Times is the riotous climax of the evening. It starts with a simple guitar melody and then Casey blasts the last line, “Lover come grab your guns. I know that you want some. Maps in flames, I'll follow you, while you lead the way.”

Tim Fagan, an indie multi-band contributor joins her on stage in a hooded red plaid jacket, unceremoniously undoes his pants with his back to the stage and about 20 seconds later, in the middle of a passionate stanza they are down around his ankles. Casey gives an amusingly flummoxed look at his black briefs and continues to play as he does a quick two-step and falls to his knees before her, hands clasped prayer-like over the microphone.

The pants-less performance continues as a bemused Casey turns away from the sight and Tim eventually struggles to pull the fabric up again. In the middle of a high-emotion, thunderous beat, hands clapping performance a public change room session takes place.

The bitter sweet violins rub achingly against the inflamed voice of Casey, who jumps along to the beat and Tim, who bends over releasing strangled bursts of lyrics. The symphony of instruments and voices charge along at breakneck speed and then Tim walks over to band member Heather Kirby, grabs the back of her neck with one hand and blasts his words in her face, almost as if he could infect her with his passion.

The whole crowd seems caught up in it, the frenzy of a song that speeds along without rhyme or reason. It takes on a life of its own, utterly ridiculous, yet beautifully reckless. Before it’s over Tim de-pantses again.

Potter puppet time

2009-08-21T10:53:00.000-07:00

Theresa Andersson performs at The Rivoli

2009-08-15T10:31:00.000-07:00

When Theresa Andersson sings it seems less like vocal chords producing sound and more like a sweet bubbling hot spring, or a magician concocting a magical formula of notes and musical arrangements.

This one woman show performed at The Rivoli in Toronto on Friday, August 14th during her first tour in Canada with David Martel after releasing her album “Hummingbird, Go!” about a year ago.
With influences from both her homes, Sweden and New Orleans, Theresa has created a completely unique blending of many sounds which sound as natural and fluid as spontaneous thoughts when playing live.

In red pumps and a white V-neck dress of black and red flowers Theresa conducted her orchestra of one, with two microphones at her helm, a violin hanging below them, two stringed instruments to her left (one being a guitar) a tambourine at her feet and zebra striped drums situated to her right. With what looked like effortless skill she moved from instrument to vocals, recording sounds cued by foot pedals at her feet and then playing them on repeat. One moment she was emitting a series of jazzy percussion-like noises, including claps and cheek popping sounds, and the next she was emitting robust lyrics to her own organic beat.

“Birds fly away. Find shelter. Trees stand strong,” she sang, clenching a raised fist as her eyes flashed below a thick chunk of tousled brunette bangs. Her enthusiasm was infectious as she picked up her tambourine and danced across the stage, her hands and feet a flurry of motion as she stomped and smacked the jangling instrument against her palms, her hips or slammed it down on the drum before her. As she crooned “do, do, do, do, do, doooo,” her arms raised to the ceiling, and her body swayed, a joyful expression lighting up her face. Her childlike excitement and energy absorbing to behold.
As each song began to unfold it was fascinating to watch her layer tunes together, releasing one strand of sound and then overlapping it with longer, higher or lower notes that build and become a thick stew of interwoven harmonies. She lays out each tone like an ingredient from a memorized recipe on her kitchen counter, stirring with enthusiasm and adding zesty new flavors with gusto.

Despite her complex coordination of nimble footwork and instrument manipulation everything runs smoothly from the first note to the last, every sound fitting snuggly into the tapestry with no competition for prominence.

Theresa’s voice always does manage to soar dizzyingly above her homespun melodies, with a powerful vocal range that can croon in light, ethereal tones, sultry rich shades or emotional climaxes of sound.

Her style of recording and repeating sounds during her performance lends itself perfectly to spontaneity and she encouraged enthusiastic audience improvisation from the beginning of her set.

During one rambunctious number as the crowd had started to dance and clap along she bent forward suddenly, flinging her hair over her face and stopping the music abruptly. Unsure of whether the song was finished we emitted a few yells before pausing in anticipation. Through the curtain of her long wavy tresses Theresa beckoned us on with a hand gesture and the room burst into a frenzy of jovial hooting and hollering as she sprang back to life.

This woman who looked like she would be right at home in a meadow of wild flowers began emitting her own pre-recorded voice from the speakers with her hands outstretched and palms splayed. Then she began to scat, explosive, bursting sounds that stormed rapidly out of her lips with barely time for breath, the intensity rising to a fever pitch.

When Theresa returned to the stage for her standing ovation she thanked David Martel, who she met in Nashville, for inviting her on this tour. Her final song puts her in mind of the heavy trials that New Orleans has recently faced. She notes that the city has learnt to respect mother nature. It starts simply, with two phrases sung in a delicate strand. “Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground. Mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down.” She places a fresh stanza over that one, like laying a second pale sheet upon a bare bed.

The words remain the same but she adds deeper tones, and then another, only higher, stretching certain words and sounds. Soon the threads begin to weave through one another, with powerful soprano notes leading the chorus, as the choir-like refrain gains momentum and emotion.

As she finishes the mantra of voices fade away, and all that remains is her solitary voice, which has dropped to her last low and soulful key.

"Sister Suffragette" Mary Poppins

2009-08-15T07:57:00.000-07:00

"Womankind arise!" This always brightens my day.

Ponyo hits theatres this Friday

2009-08-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

I am super-super stoked that the world finally gets to see Hayao Miyazaki’s latest masterpiece, “Ponyo on the Cliff”, or Disney’s title, “Ponyo”, this Friday, August 14th.

It’s true that a lot of the emotion and some of the meaning may be lost in the translation of the English dub, but at least a new generation of kiddies will be exposed to Miyazaki’s environmental, feminist, socially conscious animated stories, instead of another pack of stereotypes and gender norms that the typical Disney movies spew out for consumption.

I watched the original Japanese version with subtitles on youtube at the end of last summer following its debut release and it really is an adorable film with great messages and breathtaking animation. It’s wonderful that Miyazaki’s genius has been recognized globally and that Disney contributes to this through their production of English versions of his work, but there are a few things about Disney’s handling of “Ponyo” that really irk me.

The first involves their selection of voice actors. Don’t get me wrong, there are some talented actors lending themselves to this film, such as Tina Fey, Liam Neeson and Cate Blanchett, but then we get into Disney-spawn-produced territory.

I’m talking the freakin’ Jo Bros. That’s right, it’s come to this. Frankie Jonas, a younger brother of the Jonas Brothers (how many bloody kids do they have?) and Noah Cyrus, (you guessed it) a younger sister of that beloved glittery Disney slave Miley Cirus, are providing the voices of the main characters, Sosuke and Ponyo.

Disney even went so far as to have these kids make a kiddie-rock-pop version of the theme song for the film, available for your ears in all its disgusting glory below. My gag reflex kicked in because this honestly sounds like a brutal sacrilege of Miyazaki’s original vision. It’s the twisted “Americanization” of Japanese animation at its best folks.

If you want to compare here is the original Japanese version, which sounds reminiscent of the theme song from “My Neighbour Totoro” in my opinion.

Maybe the kids legitimately have the perfect voices for this role….or it was a form of free babysitting in the Disney sound studios…who knows? It’s just upsetting to me that the empty star power of Disney babes has to be associated with genius like Miyazaki as a flashy gimmick to boost box office sales. Then to top it off they completely warp the theme song into some Jo-Bro-Cirus Frankenstein’s monster.

I guess these are the flaws that fans just have to live with when dealing with the dubbed-for-every-American versions of Miyazaki’s work. The movie will surely still be marvellous, and as long as Disney doesn’t tamper with the original art they are still honouring the contract they signed in 1996 to produce and distribute English versions of certain Studio Ghibli films.

I love Miyazaki’s storytelling and animation style and hopefully he continues to create meaningful, beautiful films for a long while yet. Anyone who loves his past work will probably enjoy this film, despite the Disney-brats who happen to be along for the ride.

Au Revoir Simone- Black Cab Sessions "Trace a Line"

2009-08-08T07:37:00.000-07:00

Au Revoir Simone from Black Cab Sessions on Vimeo.

Theresa Andersson in her kitchen "Birds Fly Away"

2009-08-04T14:22:00.000-07:00

More to love...really?

2009-07-31T21:15:00.000-07:00

Tonight I watched the premier of a new reality dating show on FOX TV that is reminiscent of “The Bachelor” only plus-size. Yep, the whole premise is that an overweight guy chooses among 15 plus size women by going on dates and on the finale of the show asks one them to be his wife. The name of this program is “More to Love.” Because there is more cushion for the pushing, get it? That just irks me to no end.

Luke is a 26-year-old real estate developer who owns his own firm and wants to find a woman to settle down with. He is a heftier guy and professes, “I’ve gotten my heart broken because of my size.” Luke happens to like larger women and claims that he wants to get to know the women he is dating for who they really are, not based on their appearance.
Now I support the idea of curvier more voluptuous women being featured in mainstream television as being able capable of experiencing romance and being accepted for their personalities but something doesn't smell right. It’s the fact that this show revolves around a heftier man who is attracted to large women and that is the sole reason they were chosen. In other words, you’re not going to see a size 14 bachelorette or contestant on the “The Bachelor” any time soon, which is a shame.

My question is, why do plus size women have to fit into their own category of television? Why are they excluded from romance in the media unless it is specified that these are “big, big” women that you are watching, got it? Not thin, but fat, and not with a ph. Apparently its not possible for men to love or be attracted to anyone who isn’t stereotypically skinny, so a curvy woman’s only hope is a reality television dating show where the bachelor is down with love handles.

As I watched the opening explanation of the premise I could almost hear a silent voiceover spewing out “these women aren’t normal and they only way they can get with this bachelor is because he has a thing for fat women.” Although it is positive to see these women in the mainstream its demeaning that there is only one reason for their exposure, almost like a freak show where audiences can come to gawp and gape at the large women who are all fighting for the only man who will have them.
It’s sad that in our society women who don’t fulfill the mainstream look of thin or petite require their own section in the clothing aisle, or are only featured in fetish porn because they aren’t seen as “normal” by the media’s standards. That’s why they have their own show, where they are corralled like cattle as their own “special need” brand of woman.

This is further established in the way these women are portrayed as they talk one-on-one with the viewers about their feelings. Along the bottom portion of the screen we see their name, city, vocation, age, height and weight. You heard me, weight. Are you freaking kidding me? First let’s put these women in the spotlight as “big” women and then let’s weigh them like farm animals, because if the premise is that a man could love them for who they are, not their size, constantly highlighting their weight really reinforces that.

What other dating show focuses in on the weight of the men or women? None, because this is a show about “fat” people, so obviously the audience needs to know how much they weigh to further ostracize them as these disgusting, pathetic creatures that we should be thankful we are not.

We even see the weight of Luke the bachelor, at 330 lbs. because remember folks, this show has already established that he isn’t normal either, because if he was slimmer he wouldn’t be on a show that showcases his love for large women. But one thing to note from a quick preview of the first episode is that this guy’s attitude towards women seems pretty admirable. He wants to get to know the personalities of these ladies and says that looks aren’t a factor for him. Whether that is actually true remains to be seen, but what I immediately wondered when I saw his weight emphasized was why the typical, muscular bachelor type couldn’t be interested in curvier women?
Would that be too strange and freaky for mainstream viewers? A stereotypically, toned, attractive guy and a girl who isn’t the size of a twig dating each other? I guess we can’t go around showing audiences that larger women can be seen as attractive to EVERYONE, because that would actually make them think that they are attractive! Then the media wouldn’t be able to keep stuffing *oops I mean selling* every Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, acai berry, diet pill, or lipo treatment down their throats.

Some of these women seem to love themselves and their bodies, for example, a blonde woman named Michelle says, “I don’t wake up everyday and say I’m going to diet and get skinnier. No I’m going to buy the clothes that fit me today and live for today” while another says “I’m ready to prove to everybody that love doesn’t have a shape or a size.”
But then there are others who suffer from a terrible lack of self esteem and have undergone a lot of judgement and pressure from the men in their past due to their size. One woman made a very sad confession that when she meets guys for the first time she still thinks, “I’m probably too fat for him. He’d probably like one of my skinny friends.”

There definitely are a some opportunities for “More to Love” to break down the stereotypes of romance and body image, but I still squirm at the thought that today the media still has to package it as a show of “fat” women pursuing love, like a warning label or a “this program may not be suitable for younger audiences” pre-show message. Taking the value of reality television, or the lack thereof out of this conversation, what I would really like to see are women of all shapes and sizes represented as people of worth who have real beauty in the media. If shows like “More to Love” are a positive step then we still have a long way to go.

David Martel- "Vestibule" acoustic live

2009-07-28T16:44:00.000-07:00

Housepaint tackles poverty and homelessness

2009-07-22T19:18:00.000-07:00

The image of a man is painted on the trunk of a tree. Its limbs rise above the man’s head and hold a small house perched atop its branches. The tree stands inside the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). Behind the tree, tiny 3D shacks are painted on clouds of orange smoke that extend up onto the wall.

Better known as the “Hug me tree,” it became a landmark on Queen Street West, and was transplanted to the Institute of Contemporary Culture as part of Housepaint, Phase 2: Shelter, the first exhibit to fuse street art and commentary on homelessness in the ROM.

Housepaint, which ran from December 2008 until July 5, brought together 12 of Canada’s internationally recognized street artists to paint in memory of Tent City and all those who have died on the streets.

The “Hug me tree” stood on Queen Street West until it was knocked down by a car. Neighbourhood residents rescued the tree from being tossed into the trash.

Toronto artist Elicser Elliot was able to infuse a new reincarnation of the tree with the same values as the exhibit. “I thought the tree brings the community together. Everybody gets around it and love is passed through the tree somehow. I was like it’s a community and from a community comes home,” said Elicser.Tent City became home for an entire homeless population that began growing on an empty lot at the base of Parliament Street as early as 1996. For many, the shantytown represented an act of solidarity and civil disobedience, as residents utilized society’s garbage to construct an independent way of life—until they were evicted in September 2002.

Housepaint’s curator, Devon Ostrom, and co-founder of them.ca, was commissioned by Luminato Toronto Festival of Arts and Creativity in June 2008 to do live painting on the site where Tent City once stood, in collaboration with Manifesto Community Projects.

On the packed gravel where up to 200 people lived an alternatively housed existence, he invited Canadian street artists, Case, Evoke, Lease, Dixon/Royal, Cant4, Elicser, Starship, EGR, and Other to each paint canvas houses in homage to former residents. The sizes of the structures were representational of Torontonian’s incomes, with two low, two high and six middle class houses. While painting on the site, Toronto artist Erica Gosich Rose (EGR) felt an undertone of reality.“Since it was such a sensitive topic I had a hard time thinking of what to do. I wanted to react and comment in a way that wasn’t just going to make me cry while painting and totally break down. Because the whole situation and struggle that these people have faced is so immense I wanted to bring an element of hope,” she said. She was inspired by Gustav Klimt’s painting “Hope II” at the Museum of Modern Art in New York and wanted to capture the unity of that feminine family. A pregnant woman was sprayed on the roof of the tall house that she painted. The woman’s head was bent down, breasts bare, a golden mosaic of patterned cloth hanging down over her stomach and onto the wall. The other walls were filled with the images of three women draped over one another, eyes closed, hands raised in prayer. When the ROM invited Ostrom to bring the street art into the gallery setting, he wanted the show to retain some of the fluid spontaneity that is part of graffiti culture.

“I didn’t really want to sort of plunk down a bunch of street art in the gallery. I wanted to bring in a chance for the public to get to meet street artists and see their work evolve. I think people have gotten the opportunity to look into a world they don’t normally get that much access to,” said Ostrom, who oversaw artists adding new pieces to the exhibit roughly every month and-a-half, like an organic game of telephone messages which each interprets differently.

One of those additions was “Evoke/Contraction” by Patrick Thompson (Evoke). The large façade of a suburban house and garage were affixed to a slanted wall of the exhibit with the words “Bomb the suburbs” scrawled under the roof. Multicoloured paint splatters exploded across it, representing homelessness and the lack of housing as a national disaster.

Elicser believes that graffiti is appropriate media to comment on homelessness because both cultures are often misunderstood and share the same space, which he realized while he was painting a wall one day and a woman urinated beside some nearby dumpsters.

“I was just like, ‘Why are you peeing right there?’ And it just clicked to me that that was her home and I was sort of painting in her living room. So after that I didn’t get that mad about her peeing in front of my wall, because I sort of realized that it was her wall as well,” said Elicser.

Accessibility was the biggest drawback of exhibiting in the ROM for those who couldn’t afford the $22 admission fee. Ostrom tried to address this issue by giving free tours to different youth and homeless groups, as well as advertising free visitor nights. He also wanted to address the larger themes of homelessness and street art by using Housepaint as a platform for the voices of activists, artists and city councillors.

Eric Weissman has been following the lives of Tent City residents on film since May 2002 in his documentary, Subtext: real stories, and was invited to screen his film at the ROM, which was available for visitors to view in the exhibit.

He began filming when there were only six houses on the lot, as members of the community struggled with addictions, scavenged and built shelters, cooked together and shared their lives with him on camera.“The only difference between Tent City and a small little neighbourhood is they don’t have driveways and garages. They weren’t borrowing their friend’s boat or their friend’s driver to go to the golf course but they would borrow his hammer or they would borrow cigarettes,” said Weissman.

He also witnessed residents’ forcible removal by the city and land owner, Home Depot, who claimed that fire risk and ground contamination on the former garbage dump site justified eviction. Weissman believes that negative media coverage pressured then-mayor Mel Lastman to remove the growing community.

According to Cathy Crowe, co-founder of the Toronto Disaster Relief Committee (TDRC), the silver lining in the death of Tent City was the launch of rent supplements for 105 of the former residents to obtain housing, a program which has been implemented in various provinces. The street nurse who once worked in Tent City deemed this solution a band-aid measure until the federal government funds a national affordable housing program.
Housepaint canvas houses will be auctioned online (bidding started on June 29) with all proceeds going to Habitat for Humanity Toronto (H4H), which constructs housing for families living in substandard conditions. Crowe believes that because H4H does not build for the homeless, there is still a frustrating disconnect, even though she thinks it is a wonderful organization.

Ostrom believes that homelessness and affordable housing are part of the same continuum.
“The lack of affordable housing creates the conditions for homelessness. Housepaint, Phase 2: Shelter is about not only homelessness, but also shelter in general, hence the title,” said Ostrom, who has received a majority of positive feedback from members of the homeless community in Toronto who visited the exhibit.

At the tunnel entrance of Housepaint, the words of Nancy Baker, the first resident of Tent City who is featured in Crowe’s book, Dying for a Home: Homeless Activists Speak Out, ran along both walls.“We all shared stuff down there, even food. It was home. Better than a park bench…Someday I’d like a balcony. After living at Tent City, I hate being closed in.” *published in the July issue of the Ryerson Free Press

Playground

2009-07-22T19:10:00.000-07:00

Playground fears
Don’t dictate my tears
Anymore
Now I can tie
My own ponytail
When I’m told
I can’t play
I reassess
The value of the game
When I feel left out
I just get out
A simple move
To another yard
When she’s on duty
My plans are restricted
When she’s off duty
I do as I please
A small victory
I try to seize
Because today
I appreciate recess

Sex advice from....burlesque dancers

2009-07-20T20:27:00.000-07:00

Burlesque Definition
-noun
1. an artistic composition, esp. literary or dramatic, that, for the sake of laughter, vulgarizes lofty material or treats ordinary material with mock dignity.
2. any ludicrous parody or grotesque caricature.
3. A humorous and provocative stage show featuring slapstick humor, comic skits, bawdy songs, striptease acts, and a scantily clad female chorus.

"Everyone should indulge in as much clitoris as possible." - Best quote ever.

Tassles Without Borders

2009-07-18T09:14:00.000-07:00

Luscious strip teases, full figured mamas, tits and tassles, sequins and boas, boys willing to flash some skin with the ladies, and much, much more is what you’ll find at Toronto’s upcoming Burlesque Festival.

Risque performances from a sexy entourage of international and Canadian performers will grace various stages in the city from July 23 to 26th. The festival committee is spearheaded by members of Toronto’s own Skin Tight Outta Sight, one of North America’s first burlesque troupes.
Sexy Mark Brown will host the kick-off Meet and Greet Teaser at The Gladstone Hotel on Thursday the 23rd, which includes an art show, performances and a bra auction with proceeds going to the Boobalicious Weekend to End Breast Cancer.
You will also be able to learn the tricks of the trade at Canada’s only Burlesque University, where the seasoned veterans of erotic undressing will teach workshops on everything from fan dancing and persona development to the art of shimmying.

You’ll learn from star-studded pros like headmistress of the academy, Cocoa Framboise, featured below stripping away her shiny wrappings atop a candy apple. She started BOOM Chika BOOM burlesque classes in Toronto which blend Broadway jazz, burlesque and go go.

Other headline acts include international burlesque superstar Kitten De Ville, “Tools of the Tease” director and instructor Michelle L’Amour, the drag queen with a PhD in drama, Dr. Lucky, Canada’s own international pinup model, Roxi DLite, and Hot Toddy, co-creator of “Chicago Takes Off,” a burlesque charity benefit for aids.

On top of all these sizzling shows this year marks the debut of the Burlesque Marketplace, where artists can sell their crafts and sexy goods.

So if you want to experience this year’s internationally themed “Tassels Without Borders” you can pick up tickets at The Gladstone Hotel, Rotate This, Nearly Naked, Doll Factory by Damzels and online at T.O. Tix.
With so many hot little numbers coming to the city you better believe that lots of delicious candy will be unwrapped on stage. Because there's nothing sexier than a woman in control of her own fierce, voluptious, natural beauty, and she knows it too.

Acoustic Au Revoir Simone from Still Night Still, Light

2009-07-15T16:49:00.000-07:00

Virgin Concrete kicks off with Bill-ee-bop, the happily destroyed robot

2009-07-04T17:40:00.001-07:00

Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie

2009-07-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

"Refresh" your twat

2009-07-04T10:28:00.000-07:00

"After your period, refresh.
After intimacy, refresh.
After douching, refresh."

Ever seen this commercial of glowing, satisfied looking women who seem as though it’s their sweetest ambition in life to “refresh” their twat all the live-long-day?

*Cue every-woman voice over* That’s right ladies, if you have odor issues downtown there are some handy little wipes that deliver a cool, tingly, clean sensation so you can get on with your day, as a confident, carefree woman.

Obviously vaginal odour is such an embarrassing and catastrophic part of being a woman that the feminine beauty industry needs to sell us yet another product by persuading us that we’re all smelly as a fish market down there.

Almost as if we can’t be our sexy, true selves if we don’t waft alluring scents of daisy and lavender from our nether regions at the gym, the subway or walking down the street, like walking Glade PlugIns. Imagine if you walked down the street and every time your twat sensed that things were a little off it proceeded to release a little spritz of jasmine scent. Re-god-damn-diculous. So who do they want us to purchase this happy-rainbow-and-sunshine-pussy-in-a-package for? Do you really feel the need to pay to smell like floral bouquet down there? If we were meant to smell that way then we would have been born that way. So what message are we really getting from advertisers? My ears perked up at this line, “After intimacy, refresh.”

Aha! If your pussy smells slightly past its “best before” date, no man is going to want to get with that. So now we should all tote around little wipes for the wear and tear of the day because we’re not clean and fresh enough. I smell bullshit….and it’s coming from advertisers, not in between my legs.

If our peaches are expected to smell ripe and appealing for the opposite sex then why not freshen ourselves up with some smells they’re used to, like nachos and beer? That’s right ladies, clean your intimate areas before sex with this scented wipe and smell like steak and scotch, just perfect for the working man who’s coming home to your inadequate aroma.

What pisses me off is the implied message that that our vaginas, which are the source of all human life by the way (in case you forgot), have to meet a certain standard to fit into this impossible definition of “femininity.” Like if you visit the tea party without matching gloves and doilies your fucked. Our face, breasts, legs, stomach, complexion, hair and our pussies are subjected to enough panhandling in our lifetimes to make you want to riot. Frankly I think I’d like to. My sign would read, “Quit plaguing my body! Let my pussy go!”

Let’s make one thing clear, if some guy receives the highly esteemed privilege of getting into your knickers and then proceeds to critique the natural smells of your beautiful, womanly body he can take his ungrateful goods elsewhere. Every woman is made the way she was intended and the amount of judgment rained upon our lovely bodies is ludicrous, so I think it’s high time we shut it out.

We can all use common sense and be hygienic with our private parts, but why the hell should we be expected to go above and beyond? I don’t know about you, but I don’t need a gold star stuck down there. If you love your lady bits, that should be good enough for anybody.

Another note on this topic of men commenting on our genitals. It’s quite interesting how we are expected to evoke images of floral country meadows between our legs while there is no expectation placed on men whatsoever. I mean, you might comment with your girlfriends about how giving some guy a blowjob was less than pleasant, but that’s likely because he didn’t shower, not because he lacked a tulip aroma around his ball sack.

You don’t see commercials that persuade men to “freshen up” their junk before intimacy, and you aren’t likely to anytime either. Funny how women have always been given this burden of smelling and looking perfect before sex, after sex, during our periods, at the gym, after a long day at work. We’re meant to be crisp and fresh, like candy just out of the wrapper. But that’s not reality kids. The only thing we need to refresh is how we regard these standards of femininity and the warped expectations placed on us and our cunts. Our sacred gardens happen to smell just fine, thank you very much.

Bi-vailable. Pansexual. Bicurious. Heteroflexible.

2009-06-30T20:12:00.000-07:00

“Is this just another bisexual chic moment or is this generation having its own bisexual revolution?” asked directors Brittany Blockman and Josephine Decker in their documentary Bi the Way, which was featured at Toronto’s Inside Out Film Festival on Sunday May 17th at the Royal Ontario Museum.

The director duo traveled across America, from New Orleans to Nevada to New York to Utah in order to find out if falling somewhere between gay and straight is possible or just a passing trend.

They followed the stories of five individuals while interviewing a slew of teens, adults, media professionals, sexual researchers and psychologists about whether being attracted to both sexes can be normal.

“I think they’re just half foot in the closet and half foot out,” said one woman on camera, laughing and widening her stance for emphasis.

Many interviewees agreed with this point of view, noting that popular culture practically began endorsing bisexuality with titillating same-sex moments on the programs like the O.C., and even more visibly when Britney Spears and Madonna kissed.

“MTV was holding a mirror up to their audience and giving their audience a blowjob,” said Dan Savage, The Stranger’s “Savage Love” sex columnist. Savage noted that youth who believe they are bisexual might realize otherwise in 10 years.

There are some examples in the film of youth who identify as bisexual but leave the audience unsure if they just haven’t figured out their identity.

David is one of those individuals. The 24-year-old had girlfriends in the past and now casually dates Kevin, but wants a stable relationship with him. His bisexuality is questioned by his parents, who accept him but don’t understand him.

Then there’s Pam, a former cheerleader who was expelled for getting caught kissing a female classmate and had to face the wrath of her conservative father when he discovered her bisexuality. “Girls are catty bitches and guys are pigs…Can’t get along with any of them but you can’t live without them either,” she said.

The film mentioned a study done at Northwestern University in the U.S. which tested how sexual responses to pornography factored into women’s sexual orientation. Those tested viewed both heterosexual and lesbian porn clips, interspersed with landscape scenes. A tampon-shaped probe in their vaginas measured arousal and found that regardless of the type of erotic videos, women responded similarly.

A related study was conducted the following year with men and showed that they were predominantly turned on by either straight or gay porn, but not both.

“My question is, what kind of films did they show them? Was it good porn?” asked a middle-aged, bisexual man, incredulously. “That study showed that I don’t exist.”

One thing the study may have revealed is that bisexuality, at least in the mainstream, is more common among women, said a female sex researcher at Northwestern. Or maybe they just prefer the scenery. “Watching a naked man walk on the beach is about as stimulating as watching a landscape,” she said.

Although there are those in the film who dispute it, Bi the Way showed that a new generation of young people have redrawn the map of sexuality and for many bisexuality is more than a roadside attraction.

“Why can’t I have my cake and eat it too?” asked Tahj, a bisexual 18-year-old from New York.

Dan Savage summed it up best, “Do what turns you on, because you can’t run away from yourself.”

*Published in the June issue of The Ryerson Free Press

Alleviate photography revealed

2009-06-30T19:03:00.000-07:00

A stream of customers and artistic admirers wandered amid vibrators, porn and Alleviate, Jes Sachse’s erotic photography series, which hung inside Come as You Are (CAYA) on May 7, as part of Toronto’s CONTACT photography festival.

In a jean vest, with a blonde fringed faux hawk and a silver lightning bolt dangling from her ear, Sachse publicly addressed the negative reactions her debut Contact show received during its initial week of exposure. “If work is self- representative we often take the hit,” she said to the crowd on opening night.

Her collection will be featured at CAYA until June 15th, and focuses on visible disability and self portraiture through the lens of the subject, in an attempt to transcend the stereotypical gaze of disability. From freak shows to the medical text narrative, Sachse uses her own body to juxtapose clichéd imagery in playful and provocative ways.

She plays with gender ambiguity in a series entitled “Hair.” Standing at the foot of a basement with her breasts covered in tin foil and a surgical mask over her face or a pylon grasped between her legs, wearing a moustache.

Sachse was born with a rare condition known as Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome and has scoliosis which curves the spine.

Sarah-Forbes Roberts, one of the co-owners of CAYA said that last spring she invited Sachse to participate in CONTACT 2009 at their venue because she feels there needs to be a place to showcase diverse artistic images of bodies that aren’t mainstream.

“It’s sort of this moment that throws open the door to what is beautiful,” said Roberts, who feels Sachse’s work ties in with the store’s mandate of accessible sexuality.

Her eclectic hodgepodge of photography dates from 2006 up until this past December when she decided to invite viewers into the private space of the bathroom, as opposed to the “yes we can” public image of the wheelchair roving individual. One photograph in particular has generated quite a response.

Sachse stands nude in the shower, grasping the edge of a white plastic curtain as hair dye runs in between her breasts, over her short torso and in between her long legs. A heart reading “crooked” is etched on her chest as tattooed squid tentacles wrap around her arm. Her head is tilted, mouth open, eyes challenging the camera.

“It makes you uncomfortable because I’m naked but I’m also not looking at you in this very renaissance-woman-naked-on-a-couch kind of passive stare, I’m engaging you,” she said.
Audience reactions ranged from “Is that attractive?” to “Why would anyone want to see that?” Sachse worked with Cory Silverberg, part co-owner of CAYA to print an educational Q&A response to be posted in the store with copies available for visitors to take.

She realizes that feedback has less to do with her and more to do with the viewers. “You kind of plant a seed. In that act I’ve done my job.”

But backlash has erupted from more than one source. After submitting a blurb about her show to CONTACT organizers in December, which was published on the webpage and printed in distributed magazines, Sachse noticed it was altered without her notification.

The updated version indicated that observers of Alleviate would be extended an invitation to take a “fresh look” at physical disabilities.

“I felt like it really fucked with everything else I wrote because the whole point is to replicate the most tired archetypes that are associated with disability and to self represent and make new ones,” said Sachse, who felt the word “fresh” was a huge contradiction.

“Here I am trying to sell disability. Disability like you’ve never seen it before kind of deal,” she said in a mocking tone. “I was so mad.”

Last year during the Erotic Blender Art Exhibit at the Gladstone Hotel an Eye Weekly reporter who interviewed her commented on how articulate she was before remarking that “disability is so en vogue,” said Sachse.

This is the type of vibe she has received from the Toronto art scene. “Any media attention has had to do with the fact that disability is, I don’t now, the new black or something.”

But Sachse plans to incorporate these experiences into her art in a variety of different media. Currently in the works, a collaborative documentary will follow the responses her work has received over the years and include other politically like-minded artists. She will continue exploring ways to photograph the medical narrative, infantalization, iconography and censorship associated with disability.

“My method of dealing with stuff is tongue and cheek kind of humour. I’ve come to realize doing the work itself is enough in terms of addressing it. Adding to the dialogue is enough.”

*Published in the June issue of The Ryerson Free Press

The Closeline Project shares laundry

2009-06-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

“I couldn’t say the word ‘rape’ for a long time,” said Larisa Storisteanu, a volunteer with the Clothesline Project (CLP) at Ryerson, which took place from May 1 to 4.

Hosted by the V-Day group at Ryerson, the project allowed women who have experienced abuse to share their stories, emotions and messages of hope on donated t-shirts. The t-shirts were then displayed publicly. According to the CLP, making and hanging that laundry can be part of the healing process.

Storisteanu, a former part-time visual arts student at Ryerson, first heard about CLP a few years ago. She was raped by a former employer and wanted to participate in an event she felt was a positive way of reconciling her experience with violence. Storisteanu is also assistant director of Canadian Artists Against Sexual Assault, a student group that has raised funds for the Toronto Rape Crisis Centre by auctioning artwork created by women who have survived violence.

“It’s definitely hard opening up about it but its harder keeping silent,” she said, sitting beside the growing clothesline, her mint colour eyes emphasized by wavy auburn hair.

Decorated t-shirts were strung between four trees alongside Kerr Hall South as women sat at tables and sketched out stories with markers. Traffic on the sidewalk stopped to converse with volunteers about the workshop and across the street more shirts swung in the breeze beside Lake Devo.

The first CLP event took place in 1990 as part of the “Take Back the Night” march and rally in Massachusetts. The founding group felt that hanging laundry, long seen as women’s work, would be a natural medium to express provocative, educational and constructive art. The project has now spread worldwide.

Virginia and Ashley Tran, who started V-Day at Ryerson, chose to organize CLP as a way of providing a supportive, artistic and activist workshop for the Ryerson community. In partnership with Ryerson’s Women’s Centre, they started collecting donated shirts for the clothesline in December.

Virginia, a freelance artist better known as “V”, sat beside the growing clothesline in a billowy white shirt and silver hoop earrings. She said that many women who participated or approached the tables of t-shirts had stories to tell, and V-Day volunteers were there to listen.One woman’s story stood out for Tran: “A lot of times women don’t know it’s abuse until it’s too late.”

For many women, name-calling by partners can seem like a silly or insignificant reaction. “It’s about noticing and identifying the early stages of it, and how it escalates into an abusive situation,” said Tran, who has experienced violence with men in the past.

“Not only are we acknowledging the victims, but we’re building them up as well,” said project coordinator Rehana Hirjee, in grey tights and jean shorts, who sat alongside the clothesline with Tran.
She feels that women lack the outlets to express their experiences with violence and can remain silent out of fear that an abusive significant other will discover their disclosure. The Clothesline provides a safe place to tell those stories.

“It’s a silent protest, I think. Once you read it, it has such an impact,” said Hirjee, with long dark curls framing her face.

Each shirt was colour-coded to symbolize the form of abuse and whether the victim survived.
“He spat on my face and he hit me…he called me a bitch and he kicked me…one black eye and a bleeding head…I vow never to go back and not to listen to what he says,” read a lime green shirt, representing a survivor of incest and sexual abuse, which hung near Lake Devo.

But women aren’t the only survivors of violence. Earlier in the afternoon a man who had been abused by two of his former wives asked Hirjee if there was room for men who were victims. “Why not?” replied Hirjee.

“I want men to know, ‘listen we’re in this together,’” said Tran, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. “V-day isn’t a pro-woman, anti-men group. We’re pro-human.”

Jeff Perera, a social work student currently organizing Ryerson’s White Ribbon Campaign (RWRC), came out to support the CLP workshop on Saturday, and hopes to work with V-Day in the future. The RWRC is an organization of students, staff and faculty dedicated to ending men’s violence against women through awareness and education.

Perera’s aim is to create a space for Ryerson’s male population to discuss its role in violence without blaming. “It’s not the ‘oppressor, you are the enemy’ discussion. Let’s find how we can be part of the solution,” says Perera.

Perera’s mother was a victim of violence. He believes that remaining silent about the issue allows it to fester and grow. “You’re part of the problem or part of the solution,” he says.

V-Day also sold “I (heart) vagina” t-shirts and buttons and received donations for future campaigns, as well as for the Metropolitan Action Committee on Violence Against Women and Children, an organization that provides community education, justice and safety programs.None of the stories that were written on shirts will be lost, said Tran.

V-day intends to hold another CLP on campus in September and will reuse shirts created during their first workshop. She wants to spread the message that anyone can start a CLP, and hopes to collaborate with other projects across Toronto.

“We essentially want the CLP to be a Toronto collective that started here at Ryerson, and that’s beautiful. So we’re calling out to people,” says Tran.

Wearing a long, patchwork skirt, with a feather tied in her hair, Storisteanu sat beside the red t-shirt that she decorated the previous day, which symbolized rape.

“It is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy,” the shirt read, which came from the poem “Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann, surrounded by a circular design that branched off into curls. Underneath were the words, “I’m working on forgiving you…slowly…taking it day by day.”

Although she feels that many things have contributed to her healing process, Storisteanu says that witnessing the messages of other women was empowering for her. She knows that voicing what she went through potentially helped someone else.

“It doesn’t make you feel so anonymous, sharing your story.”

*Published in the June issue of The Ryerson Free Press

How To Get a Con Girlfriend: A lesson in overcoming B.O. and desperation

2009-05-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

Step one: Come prepared for the heat.

Make sure to bring an assortment of heavy duty, extra strength deodorants in bar or spray form. Keep them at hand in case of increased heat or physical activity, like group hugs, spontaneous pokemon tournaments or intense glomping. Remember, posing for photos can be strenuous, especially when your prop is as tall as you are.
You are bound to sweat so wearing another layer underneath your costume will conveniently soak up excess moisture. Donning a thin undershirt will prevent drenching your homemade duds as you compete in LARP tournaments, battle fellow fans to reach a rare anime series on sale in the Dealers Room, or flail your limbs wildly at the outdoor rave.

Step two: Become one with the costume.

You didn’t spend countless late nights stitching by the glow of your Wii console to look like a schmuck at the convention, so make sure you can rock your threads. Details are everything. Take the time to double check your costume for any missing elements because you’re only as valuable as the authenticity of your footwear, gear and make-up. Bring extra supplies along in the devastating event that a face smearing mishap occurs or your key sword is damaged in an overenthusiastic run in with the heartless.

Getting hot in that mask? Removing it will spell your failure. If one con girl spies you looking more like you than your character then you can wave goodbye to epic, fantasy themed sex. No girl will bestow those memorized lines of undying love from your favourite series if you aren’t 100% legit.
Step three: Try to have some class. This time.

If you see a sexy Kairi or Riku walk by with their tits popping out of their tops, avoid openly staring and stalking them for the remainder of the weekend. If you get excited, try to hide it and momentarily distract yourself by looking at the guy in the skin tight team rocket costume. If you do happen to get in close proximity with a hottie aim your sights on her face instead of her rack and prevent a nasty reaction.
In reality a woman can still go Love Hina on your ass and slug you into the parking lot if she thinks you’re a jerk. There is still time to seduce her into your hotel room and play out scenes from your cherished final episodes, but you’re never going to get there if you’re too obvious. You may look like a sex-starved Otaku, but try not to act like one.

Back to Reality.

If these tips seem likely to guarantee nabbing a con girlfriend then there is something seriously wrong with today’s anime obsessed youth. At my first Anime North convention on May 23rd I sat in on the latter half of a panel discussion literally called “How To Get a Con Girlfriend.” With the exception of step three (which I had to throw in) this was a sample of the types of suggestions doled out by a panel to a group of guys. It was a very strange and enlightening lesson in male cosplaying culture.

A guy dressed as Master Roshi from Dragon Ball Z actually enquired about how to avoid odours offensive to the opposite sex while travelling around with a giant turtle shell strapped to his back. Despite the fact that B.O. was as thick as smog in high traffic areas of the convention body odour should be the least of a guy’s worries. How about….oh I don’t know….just act naturally and talk to women?

Another guy wanted to know how to not appear desperate when meeting women at the convention and relayed that con women he meets tend to be more desperate than he is, proven by the fact that he was able to “miraculously” have sex with one. This line of thought just made me sorry for the entire room…especially when this story was met with wild applause, cheering and one excited male who rushed over and high-fived the guy for his apparent achievement. He wasn’t even bad looking, but obviously thought that he wasn’t worth much, if a girl fucking a guy who writes fan fiction is miraculous.
What I got out of this discussion was a glimpse into the insecurities men may feel because their interests don’t adhere to mainstream male gender constructed pastimes of competitive sports, per se.

Men who enjoy anime culture are not hideous mutants that repel every woman they see. The fact that some guys who are so absorbed in anime can feel that way indicates to me that they struggle with their self esteem. The panel resembled a grade three classroom where boys assumed girls were foreign creatures and unattainable due to their strange taste for cartoons.

A hobby is a hobby. Essentially the guy underneath all the gear and props is what a woman will be getting to know. Finding a girl who is interesting to talk to at a cosplay event is the same as meeting a girl at a party or a bar. He may not be wearing a pokemon trainer outfit and she may not be dressed as bulbasaur but that's obviously beside the point. And wearing deodorant may help, but it definitely won't guarantee capture.

Feisty feminist porn on the big screen

2009-05-27T15:16:00.001-07:00

Eating popcorn at the movies is a must, even when you’re watching feminist porn. It’s Saturday night and I’m sitting in the Royal Theatre and Feisty Feminist Porn on the Big Screen is underway, the second sexy night following Good for Her’s Feminist Porn Awards. Tonight the audience will get a more satisfying taste of films from the winner’s of Saturday’s awards ceremony, followed by a panel discussion with the directors, hosted by Coco Le Crème.

First up on tonight’s naughty screening is Ryerson media studies student, Joanne Loton’s documentary, “Women Will Come.”

Loton has brought together an array of feminist porn directors from across the globe to discuss what feminist porn means to them, with some titillating footage.

Her clips focus on Anna Span, the first feminist porn director in the UK, who discusses using the "female perspective" to restructure power imbalances in porn. From behind her desk, in a no-nonsense ponytail and a t-shirt reading, “This is what a feminist looks like,” Span explains that when you picture yourself fucking it’s typical to envision the sex from your own point of view, not from your partner’s perspective or a panoramic shot. Unless you have problems, she says.

During an oral scene Span, films bent over an actresses’ shoulder as she is eaten out, looking down at the male lover. Span films an equal amount of female and male oriented camera shots so that women can participate as the gazer instead of constantly being gazed at as an object. Steamy doc score: 8 curved vibrators out of 10.

After the educational portion of the evening we move on to clips from the softcore flick “Man of my Dreams,” by Mimi Balfour. During the panel discussion the hockey mom of three says that she wanted to make her film relatable to mothers who may not have dipped their toes into the porn pool yet.
Salsa music plays as we watch repairman Jim, identifiable by his uniform nametag, as he enters a woman’s apartment and gets to work between her legs. The lighting is low and the actors resemble typical characters from PG porn. Jim is toned and muscular, picking his eager conquest up in his arms. She wears lavender lingerie, has a slender waist, perfect curled do and curves in all the right places. The tone is slow and sensual and although she gets off, I didn’t. The whole thing was too cheesy, too styled and lacked tangible passion.

At first glance the film feels like mainstream romance novel style pornography. What separates this from an episode of Red Shoe Diaries is the camera’s focus on the male body, making him the object of her desire. She receives oral pleasure and the scene ends in an atypical fashion, with the couple resting on the couch, watching television. Tame? Very much so. Realistic? Perhaps, but boring, just the same. Score: 9 granny panties out of 10.

Next is a clip from Nofauxxx.com creator, Courtney Trouble’s film, “Roulette”, which was definitely not what I was expecting. A blonde cat burglar in a black toque heads for the fridge and grabs a jug of milk. At this point it becomes obvious where this is going and that it’s going to get dirty. She lies in front of the fridge, pours the cool beverage into her open mouth and lets it flow over her lips. It looks like a symbolic cum bath. She pinches her hardened nipples between her fingers, letting the milk stream over them, before ripping her fishnets at the crotch.

Cold liquid dribbles onto her black panties. She gasps softly before slipping her hand underneath to dip her fingers in her own cream. I found the illusion to male semen to be a turn off, but more unsettling still is when she bends down to lick the spilt remains off the tiled floor. This scene was too messy for my taste. Score: three used condoms out of 10.

Later, when Coco La Crème asks Madison Young if she is in the business of making dreams come true, the actress and director refers to herself as the fairy godmother of porn. Young says she incorporates the desires of her actors in her work, for example, if they want to peg a bound firefighter in the ass.
On screen tonight Young is making breakfast and getting very hot and bothered in the process. She prepares some toast and leans on the kitchen counter, reaching under her shorts to rub herself before informing her master that it’s almost ready.

Fast Forward. Breakfast forgotten, actress Dylan Ryan has her tongue wrapped around Young’s clit, who wears black rimmed glasses, legs spread in a chair with her head thrown back. In the throes of climax she resembles a nerdy nymph giving short, high pitched cries, her hand clamped onto Ryan’s bleach blonde boy cut locks. “Rawr, rawr, rawr,’ she growls, her climax receding as shouting and laughter ripples throughout the audience, breaking the erotic tension.
Shortly after, Young is on her knees and Ryan is in the chair, smacking her servant's face sharply and demanding that she kiss her foot before leading her off screen. If you’re into sexual control then the assertive, take-no-shit attitude of Ryan and Young’s ripe, eager-to-please desire will get you hot and bothered.

Next scene. Young is naked in a cage on her hands and knees with wide, luscious lips pursed as Ryan circles her in a fishnet body suit. A silver chain runs through Young's nipple rings and around a bar of the cage, preventing her from moving. As Ryan kneels at her captive’s rear two chained clamps are visibly pinching her pink, distended pussy lips.

“I really want to stick something in your ass. Aren’t you lucky?” says Ryan, producing a peacock plumed butt plug for Young to suck on before slowly thrusting it into her puckered anus. “You’re a pretty little bird. Pretty little birdie,” Ryan coos, while tugging on the pussy clamps as Young’s head turns, groaning. The urgent desperation in her voice is as arousing as Ryan’s cool demeanor. As she rises to leave her prisoner the camera zooms in on Young’s distraught expression through the silver bars, lips open in a frustrated moan.

Out of all the lusty films the dynamic between Young and Ryan got 9 soaked pairs of panties out of 10. Tonight there is no doubt she was a fulfilling fairy godmother.

*As published in Mutedmag.com, with photo credits to Claire Lee

Feminist Porn Awards- Lady love all round

2009-05-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

“I absolutely love fucking you!” exclaims Madison Young on stage to her co-actress, Ryan Dylan, as she clutches the first butt plug awarded this evening in Berkeley Church. The porn director and actress has just won the award for hottest kink movie, with her film “Perversions of Lesbian Lust, Vol. 1”, at Good for Her’s 4th annual Feminist Porn Awards.

Tonight feminist porn creators, actors and enthusiasts have gathered in everything from gowns to jeans to celebrate the achievements of the feminist porn community. On stage Young resembles a modern Aphrodite with her golden, open chest gown, matching pasties and tumbling strawberry blonde curls.

“We’re making waves in feminism one orgasm at a time,’ she says, wrapping up her acceptance speech.

Onlookers occupy the U-shaped second story of the church-turned-theatre, supported by white columns. On the ground level the audience occupies two rows of chairs in front of a giant screen on stage, which projects short erotic scenes from winning film makers as they accept their anal plug shaped awards.

In a brief clip from the Crash Pad Series 2 – Unlocked, winner of the steamiest trans scene, we see a woman in a black bra and panties whimpering as the tattooed woman on top of her bites her neck, pushes her down into the bed sheets and smacks her ass. The once rambunctious church is silent, save the occasional randy yell of approval. When the scene ends the audience erupts into cheering. The temperature has definitely raised a few notches.

Ryerson student and documentary film maker Joanne Loton graces the stage in a purple, layered number to announce the winner of the golden beaver award for Canadian content and most sensual softcore. Mimi Balfour nabs both for her flick “Man of my Dreams,” which involves the stereotypical studs, a cop and a blue collar repairman who both find a woman ready and willing to make love in their apartments. We catch a short glimpse of some sultry lighting and defined abdominal muscles which seem more at home in your typical City TV porno night.

The diverse male posse, Boylesque, delivers the awards on stage tonight, donning old school ties, suspenders, collared shirts and hats. “The more clips we present the more naked they get,” announces Deb Pearce, our host of the evening, with a blonde mullet and a flashy belt buckle.
Next, Coco La Crème takes the stage for her burlesque performance in a whirlwind of glowing, voluptuous mocha skin, turquoise feathers and glittering sequins. She turns her exposed cheeks to the audience, shaking them as she turns her head to give us a ruby lipped grin. Playing with her feathered skirt, she slips it off to expose a curvy stomach and thighs before yanking at her bra straps playfully with her thumbs. The bra goes flying, revealing golden nipple tassles adorning her generous breasts which rotate in wide arches as she winks with an aqua painted eye lid.

Throughout the evening Pearce reprimands the talkative bar crowd at the rear of the theatre. She wanders through the throng grasping her microphone, an image which is tattooed on her wrist, and interrupts chatting couples. “I’m the asshole trying to shush you tonight,” she says, beer in hand. With a white rose amidst a bob of curls framing her heart-shaped face, Courtney Trouble, owner of nofauxxx.com, gets a little teary eyed when accepting the award for most deliciously diverse cast. A preview of her winning film, “Roulette”, features two boys with Mohawks, jeans down around their bare, pale asses, stroking each other’s cocks on a rooftop.

Next the male and female heart throbs of the year are announced. Tyler Knight, an actor whose chocolate brown member is stroked two-handedly on screen is not present, but the spiky haired brunette, Dylan Ryan, gasps wide eyed with her hands clasped over her lips at the announcement. She accepts the awards after we glimpse a clip of her climaxing. “I’m completely honored,” she says and pauses, biting her lip. “This is an incredible business to be in, I’m very lucky and I’m very happy that you like the work that I do.” Alison Lee, the head organizer of the awards files on stage alongside the entire Good for Her crew to recognize their efforts. “Isn’t it fun showing porn in a church?” says Carlyle Jansen, in a corset and black shirt, while handing bouquets to the sex shop employees.
By now the butt plug delivery boys have stripped down to their briefs and Young gets on her hands and knees to hunt among the boy’s prominent packages for her second award of the night, indie porn pioneer of the year. She wanks off a man in yellow who’s bent forward, holding the prize above his ass, out of her sight. The audience is cracking up and someone yells, “I don’t think you’re going to find it in there.” “This is who I am. This is part of my art, of breathing,” says Young, after finally securing her award. We watch a clip of her being led with a chain around her neck by her then blonde-haired master, Ryan, who wears black platform stilettos. “I am so sick of seeing BDSM compared to torture. I’m really trying to destroy those stigmas,” Young says in a rush, her voice rising.

After a risqué lip-synching performance by Daddy K and the Rhythm Method troupe the evening wraps up with the movie of the year. “I was actually supposed to be in Ottawa getting banged right now,” says the Sasha Van Bon Bon, a member of The Scandelles burlesque troupe and Eye Weekly's sex columnist. She purses her lips, eyes scanning the audience and continues to say that she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give the award for a film that got her so riled up she had to take three people home to deal with the situation in her panties. “There was no safe word that night,” she says.

Director Syd Blakovich wins for her women boxing themed film “Champion.” Wearing a vest with holsters and a sleeve of tattoos on her arm, she announces on stage, “I get nervous when I’m wearing clothes,” and proceeds to pull down her white trousers, revealing brief-style panties. She gives her acceptance speech rather quickly, blushing and laughing as Young kneels, placing her face in her director’s crotch for some public end of the night lip service.

*As published in mutedmag.com, with photo credits to Lana Paiement

Feminist porn gala teaser

2009-05-16T14:25:00.000-07:00

There will be more extensive coverage of the fourth annual Feminist Porn Awards, hosted by Good for Her, coming soon. For now, warm up with this sneak peak from Xtra, Toronto’s printed source of queer news and culture. You will meet the rowdy host of the evening, Deb, “Dirk” Pearce, the queen bee organizer/manager herself, Alison Lee, and a slough of amazing directors and actors up for butt plug trophies.

A review of Feisty Feminist Porn on the Big Screen, the second night of the event is also coming your way, complete with commentary from the director panel discussion. Get ready for an extensive look at Toronto’s growing festival that celebrates the sexy, powerful, independent ladies taking control of the camera.

Lights acoustic

2009-05-16T14:07:00.000-07:00

Wen-Do self-defence worth defending

2009-05-16T11:43:00.000-07:00

Genevieve Weigel was skipping class, riding the deserted subway back and forth between Kipling and Kennedy when three older male teens entered her car. One sat beside her. When he asked the 15-year-old for her phone number she didn’t feel threatened, but then he placed his hand on her thigh.

Weigel shoved it off and rose to leave, standing taller than the trio. When the groper blocked her way and told her she wasn’t going anywhere she responded with the angry, gut wrenching yell she learned in Wen-Do. “Back off!” She struck him in the gut and he buckled to the floor.

Another guy wrapped his arms around her from behind. She instinctively shoved her body backwards, smashing him into the connecting subway door, and rammed her heel up into his groin. He collapsed. The third did nothing as she pressed the yellow emergency strip, the doors closing behind her as she walked out of the subway car, which had just arrived at a station. Shaken, she told the conductor what had occurred, and left.

Weigel, who served as this year’s events coordinator for Ryerson’s Women’s Centre, took her first Wen-Do Women’s Self Defence class when she was 12-years old.

What she experienced on public transit is the kind of success story that women share in Wen-Do.

Growing up she was usually stronger than the boys in her classes and often beat them in arm wrestling matches. When she was told that girls are weaker than boys she knew otherwise. “That always seemed like bullshit to me,” said Weigel.

Wen-Do exposed Weigel to her first feminist framework. “It was almost a revelation, like ‘Oh my God, I’m not by myself in this, and women are powerful and I knew somebody knew that,” she said loudly, her crimson lips parting in a broad smile.

Wen-Do originated in 1972 and is Canada’s longest running women’s self defence organization, as well as a registered charity. It was developed in Toronto by Ned and Ann Paige in response to the murder of Catherine Genovese in New York, who was stabbed and killed in 1964 within earshot of 38 neighbours, none of which called the police.

Wen-Do is endorsed by the Toronto Rape Crisis Centre and taught entirely by women, for women and girls (ages 10 and up) of all ages, sizes, physical and mental abilities. Physical and verbal techniques are interspersed with open discussion of violence against women and girls from an anti-oppressive, feminist perspective. Wen-Do emphasizes three goals: awareness, avoidance and action.

Deb Chard has been teaching Wen-Do full-time for 20 years, and taught Weigel’s first introductory course. She explains that self-defence means surviving and doesn’t always require punching or kicking.

She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, her pale blonde hair short and textured. “We’re looking at doing the least amount of self defence possible to run away,” she said, hands clasped, eyes fixed on each of us intently. “That’s what this is all about. I hope I never have to do this but these are some tools that I have in my tool box.”

After centuries of being told certain outfits and behaviour cause harassment and abuse women accept it as truth, said Chard. It’s common to hear, “But I was asking for it.” If you wear those revealing clothes, drink, or go out alone late at night and something happens it’s your fault. From childhood we are taught to modify our behaviour but in Wen-Do we discuss how skimpy skirts have nothing to do with it.

“Women have been raped in every imaginable article of clothing that you can think of,” said Chard. Clothing becomes the justification, diverting attention from where the real responsibility lies.

Chard explains that when womanized men experience sexual assault in prison it indicates the reality of rape power dynamics over a group. Suggesting that low cut prison outfits instigate rape is ridiculous. If we can understand this about men, why can’t we understand it about women?

Our Wen-Do instructor Denise Handlarski is lying on her back as a woman in a loose, pink t-shirt is bent over the face, straddling her waist and clasping her wrists down against the carpeted floor. It’s April 5 and I’m taking a free 15-hour Wen-Do course at York University, organized by York’s Sexual Assault Survivors’ Support Line (SASSL). Eleven of us are seated in a circle on the floor of a brightly lit room in the student centre, watching Handlarski demonstrate a defence manoeuvre for a pinned scenario.

Anne Rajesparam, an officer and training coordinator for SASSL, stands bent over facing the woman in the pink, arms hooked under her armpits in preparation to support her. When each woman confirms they are ready Handlarski pulls her heels against her butt and digs them into the floor while quickly snapping up her hips.

She simultaneously slides her arms down to her sides, resembling a snow angel motion as her “attacker” is launched forward over her head and into Rajesparam’s arms, emitting a loud gasp. Realistically, if an attacker pinned you while in bed the “bump” might send them headfirst into the headboard or the wall.

Over the course of the weekend we alternate between practicing physical techniques, verbal tactics and group discussions with breaks in between. In pairs we repeat hits into cushions, focussing on tightening our hands, breathing and yelling. We learn a variety of strikes, kicks and blocks in addition to wrist and choke releases, defence against weapons, and group attack strategies.

Handlarski’s dark, defined curls hang at the nape of her neck and she wears thin black glasses when she isn’t demonstrating attack defences. She instructs us to inhale and exhale while executing defensive attacks, saying “hut.” The “h” breath opens up the diaphragm ending with a “t” sound that prevents us from biting our tongues.

Yelling during a strike enables adrenaline and oxygen to fuse in the bloodstream, preventing us from freezing when afraid. It also provides a rush of energy and can surprise the attacker.

Handlarski reiterates that we’re not using strength against strength but using our larger body parts against the attacker’s weaker, smaller targets, such as a heel palm strike to the nose, a low kick to the shin, or a hammer fist to the collar bone.

These attacks are all examples of soft Wen-Do, which are not likely to cause permanent damage to most healthy individuals. Hard Wen-Do is a technique that could be fatal or cause permanent damage, such as knuckle jab to the windpipe or a strike to the temple.

Learning the differences between soft and hard Wen-Do is important in the context of the Canadian legal system, according to Sue Kernoham, a detective and coordinator at Toronto’s Sexual Assault Crimes Unit. Although every woman has the right to fight back, they have to work within the law and use reasonable force, says Kernoham.

If an attacker punches you and you retaliate by stabbing them that is excessive force. “It’s a really grey area, and all situations are unique. You need to be able to articulate why you used as much force as you did (in court),” she said.
Handlarski gestures to the white calligraphy on her black tank top representing the Wen-Do symbol. In the centre is the Japanese character for “woman” surrounded by a circle, which she calls the line of justice. Women need to trust their instincts and give themselves permission to act, which can also mean escaping a dangerous situation. “I want you to believe you’re worth defending,” Handlarski said, looking around the circle at us.

Weigel thinks it could be realistic for the Women’s Centre to ensure that a full, 15-hour Wen-Do course is available to women at Ryerson. She hopes to volunteer with next year’s coordinators and gain support from the Office of Discrimination and Harassment Prevention Services and the Ryerson Students’ Union (RSU) to subsidize expenses.

Full Wen-Do workshops regularly cost $100 a person, which the Women’s Centres’ budget can’t currently cover.

Toby Whitfield, the RSU vice-president of finances and services says that if the Women’s Centre requires additional funding for a student event, the Board of Directors will decide whether or not to incorporate it into next year’s budget. “If the priority for the Women’s Centre is to do something like this we would work to see if we could make that happen,” said Whitfield.

Another option for women on campus is Rape Aggression Defence for Women, a free, four-day course taught by Ryerson’s Security and Emergency Services Team. R.A.D. classes run once a semester but additional classes can be requested, says instructor Tanya Fermin-Poppleton.

Workshops focus on avoidance of threats in daily surroundings, like walking to and from the subway. Up to 12 women can attend R.A.D. and upcoming sessions are posted on the Security Services website as well as security bulletins around campus.

Having experienced sexual violence, Weigel wants to use Wen-Do as a way of regaining her voice and hopes to become an instructor someday. She feels that Wen-Do empowers women by discussing and experiencing what we can do as opposed to what we can’t.

“It really deals with how women are powerful, not just that they are oppressed and victims. Most of the time we resist and most of the time we’re successful and I think that needs to be something that women are taught.”

*Published in the May edition of The Ryerson Free Press

Feminist Porn Awards - Women (and men) should come

2009-04-16T00:43:00.000-07:00

Films for her pleasure

2009-04-10T07:56:00.000-07:00

Joanne Loton would love to make her own porn. But for now, the Ryerson graduate student is filming the feminist directors behind the camera.

"These women are sex-rock revolutionaries. They're sick and tired of the status quo and instead of complaining about it they picked up a camera and did something about it," she said with a wide smile.

Loton's unfinished documentary, Women Will Come, is part of her documentary media studies thesis project and a segment will be shown at Good For Her's 2009 feminist porn screenings on Saturday, April 25.

The screening is part of the weekend's fourth annual Feminist Porn Awards, which takes place on Friday, April 24.

Women Will Come focuses on four prominent feminist porn directors who are changing representations of women in porn by filming real bodies, real sex and real orgasms.
Authentic pleasure is one of the criterion that measures the eligibility of films able to win a feminist porn award. Women must also have control of production, direction and creative content in films while challenging conventional pornographic stereotypes in a sexy way.

Shine Louise Houston, a former sex shop owner featured in Loton's film, boasts a 99 per cent authentic climax rate in her films. Considering that mainstream porn tends to highlight the typical male money shot, Loton feels setting a standard for female pleasure in feminist porn is very commendable.

"It's not easy to represent [an orgasm] because unless you squirt, how do you tell? So a lot of it cinematically focuses on the reactions of the woman's face or her body," Loton said.
The screenings will also feature clips from nominated films, followed by a moderated panel discussion with the feminist directors (who will be awarded butt-plug-shaped trophies for their participation).

Alison Lee, organizer of the awards, asked Loton to speak on the panel because her documentary offers a different perspective.

"I don't think we've ever had a documentary film maker on the panel before and it's always good to expand. The more diverse voices we can have, the better the discussion surrounding feminist porn will be," Lee said.

Sexual identities tend to be realistic in feminist porn, instead of slapping together two women who don't identify as queer to perform a cookie cutter girlon- girl scene. Loton has also witnessed a trend of less scripted scenes.

"It's not asking the performers to stop and do doggy and do cow-girl and whatever. It's like we're putting in a tape and we're following you, you're the director of the action. You do exactly what you want on screen," she said.

Returning to Ryerson after graduating from the radio and television arts program in 2001, Loton was able step back from the Canadian television industry. Back at school, she could dedicate herself to making an independent film she is passionate about.

"I've always been interested in women who defy stereotypes of gender roles," Loton said. "That's why I gravitated towards sex-positive feminism. We have autonomy over our own bodies and our minds."

Through her research, Loton knows when a woman picks up a camera it doesn't automatically make her product feminist.

In Loton's documentary, Anna Span, the first female porn director in the U.K., discusses using the "female perspective" as a means of restructuring the power imbalances in porn. Span films an equal amount of female and male oriented camera shots.

A woman can then participate as the gazer instead of constantly being seen as an object, Span said. The 47-minute full length version of her documentary will debut at Documentary Now, the master of fine arts graduating film festival on June 11.

When Loton returned to Canada from filming in L.A., she had to explain to a male border security employee that she had been abroad filming a documentary about feminist porn. He stared at her, confused.

"Feminists, what? I thought feminists were against that?" he asked.

"Not all of us are."

"I don't get it."

"Well that's why you need to watch my film."

*As published in the Eyeopener, Wednesday, April 8 2009

Sea of pink champagne

2009-03-21T22:42:00.000-07:00

Head warm and buzzing gently
Floating in pink champagne
Light, frothy
Suspended
Bubbling, flowing
Cascading through my fingertips
easy
simple
playful
one more time
Then I jogged home

Teens get the sex-toy-shaft

2009-03-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

Under 18 and want a dildo, but plug, or flesh light?

No dice, my friend. Despite the fact that age of consent for sexual activity in Canada is 16, sex retailers (including online shops) still bar access to anyone under 18 years old. Xtra, Toronto's gay and lesbian bi-weekly newspaper, recently covered this issue in their March 12 issue, entitled “Teens get the shaft in the struggle for sex toys.”

So why is there a double standard when it comes to teens exploring their sexuality? They can do the deed but are denied access from buying the props to enhance solo or joint pleasure.
Apparently a Metro Toronto bylaw regulates the display of pornographic images to ensure that they aren’t showcased in broad daylight for minors to see. So instead of obscuring pornographic merchandise, many stores choose to openly exhibit porn alongside toys and prevent those under 18 from entering. For sex stores, satisfying the by-law results in limited satisfaction for minors who want to explore the titillating realm of naughty playthings. The message that this sends to youth is summed up perfectly by author, Andrew Innis.

“Having sex with someone is acceptable, but exploring your own body by masturbating with anything more than your own hands is not.”

Many teens may not be satisfied by the prospect of DIY cucumber foreplay. I know I wasn’t.
I remember clearly the first time I tried entering a sex shop with a group of friends. I was the only one who got carded and dejected, forced the group to leave. I felt unfairly excluded from browsing the options of sexual play and exploring my own pleasure. Why, when teens are curious, educated and horny, should they be barred from discovering what gives them the best hot, pulsing climaxes they can have?

Not every teen is ready to get raw and intimate with their naughty bits but restricting exploration is not only discouraging to sexual comfort, it’s counterproductive.

It sends the message that teen masturbation and foreplay isn’t up for discussion and it isn’t accepted. Stifling sexuality as “inappropriate” creates feelings of shame or embarrassment in young adults who already receive a lot of contradictory messages about sex from their parents, religious institutions, school, friends and the media.

The masturbation phobia of the 18th century created a fearful and restrictive atmosphere around the concept of self pleasure. Medical professionals warned against the sinful activity that could result in anything from death to insanity, vision and hearing problems or epilepsy. Young boys were restricted from having or manipulating an erection through various preventative devices. These sure look fun.
Parents may not be placing a clitoris-cage on their daughters these days but when young women are discouraged from viewing pleasure-enhancing tools they are given the message that they shouldn’t be looking for a plastic replica to get them off because only the real thing is acceptable in their twat.

Young women would only benefit from learning more about their own anatomy and what gets them wet. In sex education as teens we are told that a penis is inserted into a vagina and he reaches satisfaction. End of story. Slam-bam-thank-you-m’am. But is that all teenage girls should expect from sex? What about their sweaty, messy, world-quaking orgasms? Why shouldn’t they be able to learn about the possibilities for pleasure that are available to them at the tip of a curved, water-proof, bead-rotating, ribbed, throbbing vibrator? As they say, practice makes perfect….
When you know what gets you off you can also communicate that sensory knowledge with your sexual partners, instead of fumbling awkwardly and engaging in possibly regrettable, unwanted or harmful experimentation. That journey to find multiple, long, mind blowing orgasms will ultimately help teens become more confident lovers because they will know what they want and what they don’t. When you become intimately acquainted with your pleasure you are more likely to communicate your likes and dislikes and less prone to allow others to prod or poke you in a way that turns you off.

Sex toys can be great teachers and for a teen who is eager and willing to learn, why not leave the doors wide open?

LIGHTS in the city

2009-03-19T20:55:00.000-07:00

"Iiiiiiiiiiiice. Iiiiiiiiiiiiiice." A chorus of voices elongate throughout the swelling crowd. There are too many headbands to count; oodles of them say LIGHTS, some even glow.

It’s a Saturday night at the Phoenix Concert Theatre. Tweens in tights are packed tightly in a bobbing, beaming mass as Lights smiles and points out over the crowd, conducting thick strands of voices as heavy as the heat on the dance floor. The raven haired pixie, whose sound so many have come to recognize (thanks Old Navy), bounces from side to side as her fingers fly over the keyboard before her. Her petite frame is accentuated in a tiny purple tee and black short skirt. “Cause all I see is you not feeling and you’re giving me nothing niiiiiiice. I tried to do you right, why’d you have to go and turn to iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.”

Recently this Canadian girl has been touring and finishing her first full length album, which is set to release in August or September.

“I just have to do a couple more mix tweaks and it’s done,” she says, over the phone from New York. “I’m really happy with it.”

Due to Much Music exposure and lots of radio airplay, her Canadian fans amount to much more than those in the States. She says that a lot of people south of the border discover her on the internet, as opposed to the radio, a new trend that has erupted with MySpace. Then there are her video blogs which spawned last fall on YouTube, where she posts updates about tours, the life and times of her pet spider, Lance, and discussions with talking shower curtains.

“I’m always looking for different ways to announce information,” she says. She cites one of her first episodes where she constructed a puppet version of herself, to announce the release of her EP in the States, bubble dialogue style. Watching her video blogs gives you the sense that her life unfolds comic-book-style, with lots of “zing’s” and ray guns. In a way, that’s the idea.

“So for people that are watching, I’m like, this is a cool way to get information out and people get to know your personality a bit more along the way.”

Though the process is time consuming, Lights is always concocting new methods for broadcasting fresh news. She doesn’t want fans to forget about her while she’s touring.

Apparently they are tuned in. After mentioning her obsession with beef jerky in one episode, concert-goers started bringing her the tasty treat. Other gifts include socks and cold medication.

“Some people bring me teddy bears of Lance, because they know that I miss him, it’s funny,” she says, a smile in her voice. The pair has faced their fair share of long-distance issues (watch YouTube episodes 18 and 19 for some background).

I ask how Lance is adapting to the Lights doll replica that she made in hopes of giving him company in her absence. “I don’t think he likes it to be honest. He keeps hassling me and being like, ‘When are you coming back.’ So clearly he’s not getting any enjoyment out of it. I need to go home and be with him,” she says, giggling.

I join in, “It doesn’t really live up to you, I guess.”

“It doesn’t really, no,” she replies. “It doesn’t really do anything, it just sits there.”

It’s safe to say that Lance is a smart spider.

At the Phoenix, Lights tosses two paper airplanes with written messages into the crowd. The second aircraft ker-plunks sharply into some girls near the stage. “I hope I didn’t poke your eye out,” she exclaims, laughing.

The song “Ice,” should be her next prospective music video. “It was a really cool, like low budget video. I spent like a week holed up in my apartment making all the cut outs for it so it should be interesting.” Although Lights wants to keep the concept a secret, she says it will be cute. “I don’t actually make an appearance in it until towards the end of it. It’s basically all paper dolls.”

New material she performs in Toronto includes, “Saviour,” “Second Go,” “River,” and a cover of “In the Air Tonight.” She says that while her time on tour usually consists of long commutes and down time in hotels, unwritten songs are always accumulating.

“It just kind of starts to well up inside my mind, all the ideas and everything. It’s in between tours that I get a chance to sit down and finish it all.”

Aside from running out of gas, running into freak blizzards, and getting their GPS jacked, touring has been mellow. As for her superpower of choice, teleportation, it would certainly come in handy while performing.

“You could like go to Moscow and do a show, and then in the same day go to…umm the Yukon Territories and do a show. That would be awesome. And then you could teleport right back to your bed and that would be really good.”

For someone as busy as Lights, it sounds well deserved.

*Featured on Mutedmag.com

McClung's straight off our backs clothing sale

2009-03-18T13:35:00.000-07:00

I just finished up some much needed spring cleaning in my closet to donate to this clothing sale and I hope to find some nifty purchases among the discarded remnants of someone else's wardrobe. Who knows why so many pieces of clothing that I purchase lay forgotten, gathering dust. At least this way someone can reap the benefits while soothing my conscience. Your junk is my treasure right? We all win at a clothing sale. Support Ryerson's feminist magazine, McClung's, so we can keep valuable pro-woman literature alive on campus and find some great bargains too.

Happy IWD! Being the door

2009-03-08T12:33:00.000-07:00

“Feminism 101: Instead of being the doormat get up and be the door,” says Lillian Allen, looking up at row upon row of cheering women during the International Women’s Day (IWD) Rally.

Her poetry articulates our struggles. “Laugh when they try to bend your back down low.”

We’re in the OISE building at 252 Bloor St. and its starting to rain outside. It’s about 11:30 a.m. on March 7th and inside there are mothers, students, grandmothers, immigrant workers, activists, children, husbands, boyfriends, friends, sons, and daughters. They may not be here for the same reasons by there is a common thread running throughout this auditorium. They are here to support the women that they know, the women that they are, and those they might never meet.

As one speaker bluntly puts it, “We all came off different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.”

The Toronto theme of IWD is “Good Jobs, Dignity for All.”

A good job is something that many women are forced to do without. Minimum wage is $8.00 in Canada. Think about a mother working full time shifts that receives a mere eight dollars for her labour. Think about raising children on that kind of salary. Think about being in debt, paying off loans, and making that kind of money. That’s the reality for many and that’s why IWD is fighting to raise minimum wage to $10.00.

“We will not be quiet and we will not be ignored,” says Judy Vashti Persad, an organizer of the event and our first speaker of the morning. “We must continue to be a movement for all women.”

Now it is time for our morning history lesson. Introduce Rosie the riveter. You know that feminist icon that you see on poster, t-shirts, etc? That woman in the red bandana, flexing her bicep in her blue factory uniform, well she was a real person.
Long before she became an icon of the American feminist movement she was the propaganda poster girl for WWII, urging women to get out into the workforce. This morning two women in bandanas converse on stage in an insightful dialogue about the woman behind the poster, the “Real Rosie.” Rose Will Monroe worked in an aircraft factory in Michigan in 1920 and was featured in a promotional home war effort film, as well as a poster campaign. She even had a theme song, “Rosie the Riveter,” which was performed acoustically by Ryerson Free Press editor Nora Loreto.

“But if war made men out of boys it made feminists out of women,” says a “Rosie” on the stage. As women entered the workforce at the time, some factories started offering services such as daycare. “I wonder what it would take for them to do that today?” enquires one Rosie, igniting audience laughter. This led women’s movements towards unionization for better conditions in the workplace. Today, “Rosie became what all women made her, a symbol of women’s power in the workplace.”

But there is a lack of power over our education. Liana Salvador, the Vice President of Education at Ryerson University’s Student Union, takes the stage to articulate her realizations about facing academic obstacles. “High tuition fees disproportionately affect women,” she says. She recounts her experience as a woman of color, working in low paying jobs, in debt, to finance her education. “My government is giving me a really shoddy deal.”

Currently earning her second University degree, Liana is over $50,000 in debt. “Hey Dalton, I didn’t make as much this summer, can I pay half? That’s not going to happen,” she says.

Instead of channeling money into the military, the Canadian government should be funding our education system, because debt is crippling female students. “We need to stop being underpaid, undervalued and under funded,” says Salvador.

Next to take the stage is a woman who discusses the value of IWD, and asks women to consider contributing an hour’s worth of their pay, or any amount within their ability, towards funding this event. She explains the meaning behind each Canadian bill. For example, the fifty dollar bill features the Famous Five-Emily Murphy, Nellie McClung, Irene Parlby, Henrietta Muir Edwards, and Louise McKinney- who fought for the “Persons” Case, giving women civil rights and the status of person under British Privy Council.
She says that because the government hardly wants women thinking of feminism every time they purchase a coffee, they imprint a monumental achievement in women’s right on a bill that some of us rarely see.

The twenty dollar bill, featuring Elizabeth II, Queen of England, is one woman that will never have to worry about her pension or replacing a hip, says our speaker, to swells of laughter from the audience. “I hope there are a few bills floating around now,” she says, with a wide smile, as jingling buckets pass from hand to hand.

Two women who work at the Toronto Rape Crisis Centre stand beside each other, telling stories of sexual abuse that span miles. The auditorium is silent, as their voices confront the pain, the numbness and the healing. They speak of abuse at the hands of family and strangers, the depression, the sense of betrayal towards those that should have loved them.

One woman is older, with a long braid of grey and white locks hanging down her back. The other is young, in a t-shirt and jeans with a mass of small curls framing her face. She says, “My heart aches that even my brother didn’t spare me.” The older woman answers, “Neither did mine.”

“I called and called the shelters. ‘Sorry, no bed again. Call again.’”

“I swore I would never let my heart feel again.”

“All I longed for was to be loved.”

“It happened again, it must be my fault.”

“Afraid to trust.”

“Afraid to leave my daughter with anyone.”

“I am proud of the feminist I have become.”

The other answers, “It was never my fault.”

Our last performer before we head out to march, with signs and banners in hand, is Michelle St. Bernard, a.k.a. Belladonna. Her lyrics hinge together, smashing into one another, like cars on a freight train. The links are powerful and the impact is heavy, forcing you to see the tracks her mind has followed. “I’m so low in the barrel that you don’t believe it.”

“I’m so low on the totem pole I’m about to grow roots.”

The tracks end with, “I’m so strong, cuz you’re so strong, and we’re so strong.”

“We got to get up.”

It may be raining, but we get up.

I shake life

2009-03-07T06:53:00.000-08:00

I shake life
Rattle it like a box full of nails and pins
Jiggle it till it does something for me
Thump it till it answers, comes to fruition
Thrash it till it produces something valuable
Hammer it till it AGREES WITH EVERYTHING I SAY
Strike it till I think I’m God
Then hurl it to the ground
Curl up in the corner, frustrated….unable to win
But my better half is there beside me
She’s watching me struggle
Her smile is one I don’t always see
When I think like she does everything is clear
Life isn’t about winning or losing
It’s about living
I feel the sun on my face again
I walk in my own shoes again
I can look down at the sad side of myself
The scared, angry, self-deprecating side
I look closer
Squinting
I see myself
Standing there, not worthy to exist
Hiding in plain daylight
Running from her shadow
And I say simply,
“I want to be your friend.”
“I want to show you love.”
I see her blink in surprise
Taken aback
She asks me, “Really?”
Too good to be true
“Yes,” I say. “This is what I will do.”
“I will hold your hand.”
“I will accept you for who you are.”
“When you get off track, I won’t punish you.”
“I will be gentle with you, every day.”
“Until you can be gentle with yourself.”
She asks again, blinking back tears, “Really?”
“Yes.”
There are no conditions, no string attached
I hold no carrot to tempt her
All I offer is to embrace all that she is
“Yes,” I say again.
There’s a joyful, warm ache in my breast, pulsing under the flesh
I feel it well up,
Like birds trying to escape, beating their wings
Like the sunrise breaking through the trees,
As I tell her, utterly sure,
“Yes.”

International Women's Day

2009-03-05T08:31:00.000-08:00

International Women’s Day (IWD) is celebrated globally on March 8th to celebrate women’s accomplishments but also to remember the battles we have fought for rights. These days many young women take for granted what the second wave of feminism achieved in improving equality.

They may think that women’s rights have been won. We can vote right? Many of us can get an education, we can work in careers that were formerly reserved for men, we can get divorced and own property. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Think about the fact that in 2009, women still aren’t paid for equal work of equal value in the workplace. Think about the glass ceiling that still exists in jobs where motherhood ultimately devalues women’s contributions on the workplace. If a father goes to pick up their sick child he’s a saint. If a mother does it, it’s commonplace, hardly noteworthy, or even frowned upon as negligence of one’s job. In terms of reproductive control we still face obstacles.

Don’t forget that in Canada there is still conflict over a woman’s right to autonomy over her body. On March 5th, 2008 the “Unborn Victims of Crime Act” passed second reading in Parliament (Bill C-484). This would amend the criminal code and lay separate charges in the death of a fetus when a pregnant woman is attacked. This is a slippery slope towards criminalizing abortion, and giving personhood rights to fetus’, which infringes on women’s rights, as outlined in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

In this day and age, our bodies are still not our own. And if you think about women’s rights globally, it seems there is a steep hill to climb. If we look outside our own privileges, whether they are based on class, race, ability, sexual orientation or religion, the world isn’t as rosy and equal as we thought it was.

IWD is a time to remember our past, but also to celebrate what we have done, and work towards future growth. There are different Women’s Day themes, marches and gatherings all over the world on Saturday, and in Canada the theme of 2009 is: “Strong Leadership. Strong Women. Strong World: Equality.” Watch this video for our opinions.

In Toronto there will be a Rally at the OISE Auditorium 252 Bloor St. (St. George Subway Station) at 11 a.m. with speakers and performers to hear before the march. The theme of the rally is "The Rising of the Women is the Rising of Us All !"

Thousands of women’s groups and unions will join together, marching to Ryerson University, where the IWD Fair will be held from 3-5 p.m. in the Student Centre (55 Gould St.).

So come out if you want to rally for women’s rights, because justice for all women is something that we can work for, instead of burying our heads in the sand. It’s as simple as believing in equality for all people.

Playing with control in the bedroom

2009-03-05T07:29:00.000-08:00

SMACK. Leather hits flesh.

"Tell me what you know!"

SMACK. He's bent over, taut cheeks getting redder.

"Answer your mistress!"

SMACK, SMACK. You know he won't comply, and that gets you both excited.

If you're into bondage and sadomasochism (BDSM), consensual role playing can take on unlimited dimensions.

According to Mistress Patricia Marsh, a professional dominatrix who runs the House of Domination and Fantasy in Toronto, personality doesn't indicate whether you're a dom or a sub.

"It's only in a context of sexuality," says Marsh. "There's nothing that characterizes one or the other."

So you've picked a safe word and it's business time. From torturing your enemy to rewarding your slave here's what you need to know:

Develop a style
"Find inspiration that connects with your character traits," says Viktoria Kalenter is, a Toronto sex educator. Use a character from a book or movie and take it to an intimate level.
Feel an affinity with Lara Croft? Strap on your holsters. A costume can get you in that mind frame and set the atmosphere. According to Marsh, keep your demands specific, like, "Keep your mouth open. Squeeze your nipples. Spread your legs." Make them thank you. It's more embarrassing.

Plan your attack
Arrange the scene and create guidelines. Communicate your likes and dislikes.
"There need to be hard limits," says Marsh. Determine a barometer of force by starting off gradually and caressing between each blow. Bend them over your lap and tease their naughty bits. Or, suggests Marsh, "Stick your finger in their ass, because it's right there."
Who can deny that logic.

Be imaginative
Use household objects like a hairbrush or your SOC text for naughty punishment. Buy some neck ties at Goodwill for thrifty and effective bondage. Make use of bed, table and chair legs for binding.

Heighten the senses
A blindfold amplifies everyday foreplay. Contrast sensations of ice and heat, pain and pleasurable toys. Use only your vagina or penis to touch their body. "They won't be thinking of laundry," says Marsh.

Gather intelligence
Know what you're getting into before you play, says Kalenteris. Check out Encyclokink, a user generated resource on the online BDSM community, Triskelionsociety.com. Or take a handson workshop. Kalenteris hosts Fetish 4play and Kinky 4play, a pair of monthly interactive events in Toronto. Sex shops like Good for Her and Come as You Are also offer sessions on everything from role play to flogging and rope binding. You'll be hog-tying like a pro in no time.

Take it up a notch
If you'd like to break out of the bedroom take a peek at EhBC.ca for a calendar featuring some local and Canada-wide kinky events. Hook up with other attention whores like yourself and get inspired.

Be aware
When immobilizing someone, make sure not to cut off circulation and that knots aren't digging into the flesh. Don't tie someone in an extreme position that will cause discomfort over time. Avoid taking a Facebook break. In case of an emergency, asserts Marsh, "You're responsible, because they can't be responsible for themselves." So don't leave. Period. Don't do anything unexpected and use common sense, says Marsh.

"Don't put your cock in a fucking frying pan."

*This article is featured in Ryerson's student run newspaper, The Eyeopener Love & Sex Issue.

Shake it on the subway

2009-02-19T22:49:00.000-08:00

Imagine you're sitting on the subway reading your dose of Metro and you look up to see a guy with a fro dancing. "WTF." But then someone else joins him. And another. And another. There is no music playing in the subway car, but they all have their MP3 players on and are dancing like its nobody's business.

That would be pretty damn wild, right. I dare say it would be fucking awesome.

That's what Improv Toronto is going to be doing this Saturday, from 3-6 p.m.

Its their second annual Subway Dance Party and if you're brave enough to dance in front of a car full of everyday commuters you can meet up with the dance crew at 3 p.m. sharp, at the giant horseman statue in Queen's Park.

From there everyone divides into jivable teams and heads to Musuem station. Teams will board separate subway cars and scatter throughout the train, acting as if no one knows one another.

Then one by one, gradually, the dancing begins, all the way down to Union and up to Wellesley station. The entire team simultaneously evacuates and crosses to the other side of the tracks, following the loop back to Musuem.
If this sounds like the type of body-shaking mission that interests you, email http://improvintoronto.com/contact-us/ to get involved.

Apparently 200 were involved last year and its very feasible that participants will swell in ranks. The goal of Improv Toronto is to "pull pranks" that jolt reality for everyday people in a fun, entertaining, positive way.

They have been the masterminds behind some really amazing stunts around the city, like the infamous no-pants subway ride. So feel free to jump around, get down, and move to your own (outwardly silent) music on Saturday, if you dare.

Finding the perfect fit

2009-02-17T18:50:00.000-08:00

I was just browsing the Good for Her blog when I chanced upon this handy, informative, “Learning in the Bedroom,” video by Renee Pilgrim, a sex educator.

I met Pilgrim at a Ryerson Women’s Centre workshop when she announced quite candidly that she was going to give us a gander at her vulva.

As beneficial as up-close and personal workshops are I don’t think any of us ladies were quite ready for that experience.

So I let out an inner sigh of relief when she explained she wasn’t serious.

She was quite a fabulous workshop leader and it was a pleasant surprise to find her here, giving an instructional how-to segment about choosing your first vibrator and all the nuances of making that decision.

Texture, or curves? Rotating beads, or powerful vibrations? Slim or thick? We have so many choices. I love her hair cut reference, and like a new do; you might grow out of one type of toy when it no longer suits your changing sexual appetite.

It’s never a bad idea to make a list, research, and browse the options out there. Sex is about exploration of your needs and desires. I might just have to do some shopping.

Cunt Censorship

2009-02-15T16:53:00.000-08:00

An episode of The Doctors entitled, “The Vagina Show”, featuring a female panel with Margaret Cho as a co-host was scheduled to air on January 26th. But it didn’t. Real women on the show discussed their medical and sexual queries/thoughts about their nether regions in an open, often hilarious dialogue.

Want to know why it was cancelled? According to Margaret Cho’s blog, the network thought it was “too racy” for mainstream television. I think it’s very unfortunate that today we still cannot have open, positive, honest dialogue about our pussies. Frankly, this is a perfect example of how society (perpetuated by the media) has built up an attitude of shame around the vagina.

Most women are made to feel uncomfortable discussing what’s going on “down there.” As young girls we often aren’t encouraged to even name it, calling it a “private area,” and we certainly aren’t encouraged to touch it and get any sort of pleasure out of it. It becomes a topic shrouded in mystery, the likes of which are only (if at all) reserved for whispered slumber party misinformation or rumours. I feel that for young women in their early teens, any discussion surrounding masturbation is completely stifled and most of us are left to grapple with the concept through whatever sexual exposure we experience. Often it’s based on clumsy, inexperienced boyfriend groping, late night Showcase TV, X-rated website discoveries, or pre-pubescent fantasies.

Even in high school there isn’t any real, adequate communication on the subject, unless you consider a few diagrams and some basic renditions about heterosexual penile insertion into our lady parts to be “sex education”. It’s almost as if women are influenced by a sort of “Don’t ask, don’t tell” operating vagina framework.

Being the open kind of person that I am, I often tried talking to my girlfriends in high school about self pleasure and all other matters of pussy maintenance, but it was often met with giggles, or a refusal to breach the subject. I knew a lot of “closet masturbators,” who refused to acknowledge it for most of our friendship. I can’t help but feel that this type of shame in discussing our genitals and pleasure is ultimately contributing to a devaluation of our sexual knowledge and needs.
Refusing to talk about it can also lead to misinformed choices. Sadly, it’s becoming almost mandatory for women to shave everything off their pussies just to appeal to male desire, whether they are comfortable with it or not. I’ve chanced upon a fair share of Cosmo-esque magazines encouraging women to do so. These wonderful “Please your man” tips tend to spew out derogatory statements like, “He doesn’t want to cough up a hair ball” etc. The unfortunate thing is that many girls won’t question this kind of rhetoric in mainstream media. If it is coined as a “normal”, desirable, beauty procedure that will ensure a male’s approval in the bedroom then many girls will jump right on the bandwagon in hopes of acceptance.

The main reason people choose not to discuss a topic is discomfort or fear. I think the more confident we feel about our bodies and our sexuality the more prone we are to discussing the dreaded V-word which “much must not be named.” That’s why young girls should be encouraged to ask questions about their womanhood and receive extensive education about everything from dildo’s, to yeast infections, to shaving, to piercing, to everything else that is beautiful in between our thighs.
If we aren’t allowed to talk about our cunts in a respectful, educational, comedic, appreciative, constructive way, then I think it’s worth thinking about what is influencing this attitude of pussy obscurity. I feel that it’s completely ludicrous to silence discussion of our bodies for being deemed “too racy,” when the aim is to promote a healthy understanding of our vaginas. What would be really wonderful is if they never shut up.

R.I.P. unwanted bras

2009-02-09T16:10:00.000-08:00

On February 13th Secrets From Your Sister can help you lay your dead bras to rest. If you bring an old, poor fitting, mostly unworn, clean bra to the store you can get 25% of a new, regular priced bra, which I must say is pretty darn fantastic (since I have my eye on a cute little polka dotted one.)

Secrets From Your Sister has 2 locations in Toronto. The 560 Bloor St. West store is open from 10am to 9pm on Friday, and the 2501 Yonge St. shop will be in business from 11am till 9pm, but you want to get there before 8pm, when their bra-fitting room list will wrap up.

Its also a nudge to clean out all the neglected brassieres that gather dust in our closets. Some bras are past any kind of salvation and will be put out of their misery, but the rest will be donated to Sistering, a Toronto group of community workers that help homeless and low-income women in the city to find housing, transportation options, and utilize services like laundry, showers and life skills workshops.

Not only will you be getting a fab-u-lous bra, you'll be donating clothing to women who could really use it and will apreciate it. Valentines Day is right around the corner, so for some, a little something that makes you feel sexy is a nice perk.

It's less like a funeral and more like a celebration.

Naughty Crafts on V-day

2009-02-07T20:43:00.000-08:00

Want something kinky, different or erotic from art? How ‘bout edible liquorice panties, knitted balloon bras, purses fashioned to resemble lovely lady anatomy or Karma sutra buttons that will education curious onlookers on your morning commute? Well you are in luck.
Come as you are, an accessible, inclusive, co-op sex store in Toronto is holding the Erotic Arts and Crafts Fair on Valentines Day at the Gladstone Hotel. It’s been going on since 2007, and it is Canada’s first and only crafts fair promoting DIY sensual expression, which makes me pretty proud and pleased to be living in Toronto.

You can head down to 1214 Queen St. West between noon and 8 p.m. to pick up some hot, affordable crafts that might titillate you or tickle the fancy of someone dear to you. I love when people get creative and unleash the sexual side of art, whether its lingerie, sculpture, photography, baked goods, clothing or accessories. Here is a video from the first annual fair.
It goes to show that art needn’t always be serious. It can by campy, flirty or just plain hilarious. I might have to consider selling some of my dirty cookies next time….. But I doubt I can compete with an erotic baking business like Frostitution. Their vagina cakes and sugar tits look delicious. Babble, an adorable button company behind the instructional Karma sutra designs also branches out into scrabble-esque pieces spelling kinky words, pierced nipples buttons, and emergency condoms to pin where you’ll need ‘em.

So take a gander, there might just be something to suit your tastes. Because V-day doesn’t have to be about satisfying your lover, it should also be about satisfying yourself.

Journey of bra self-discovery

2009-02-01T13:46:00.000-08:00

Bras are tricky things. You think you know your size…then somebody turns your world upside down. The phenomenon has happened to me twice. The first occasion was in gr. 9 with some girlfriends. We were changing in one of their bedrooms and I was wearing a bra I had ordered from the Sears catalogue. It was a B cup, but resembled a C cup. I’ll never forget being told that it was obviously too big on me. It was a troubling occasion, and afterwards I became very conscious of how small I was. Every pool trip, every school dance, and every change room in the mall verified what I had been told (and began to think).

You have small, insignificant breasts.

La Senza also pointed this out whenever I looked up at their walls of tanned, plump, perfect breasts. What confused me was that a not-so-helpful employee at La Senza had “measured” me. As in, she quickly and ineptly placed measuring tape around my waist and breasts and told me I was a B cup. That was it. Simple, I thought. It was to be my category. I’m a B. So that’s what I bought, unquestioningly, although I had a sneaking suspicious that I was more in the A category. Bra shopping turned into a strange type of deceitful activity. It never felt quite right. Then I started purchasing A-cup bras that weren’t completely comfortable. “There,” I thought, “This is what I should be wearing.”
Then I visited a wonderful boutique this weekend called Secrets from your Sister, at the corner of Bloor and Bathurst, and my notions of bra shopping completely changed all over again. But this time for the better.

A bra sale was underway, so of course the place was packed with ladies lusting after the perfect lingerie on racks. We signed up for a bra fitting and set out to investigate the merchandise. Pink and lacy, black with polka dots, and a majestic, red striped beauty looked down at us from walls of brassieres.
When my name was called I was ushered into the back of the store behind a curtain into a partitioned off sanctuary of bra self-discovery. The woman measuring me was named Deb, and after adjusting a measuring tape around my frame and bust in a deliberate, unhurried manner she proceeded to bring me bras to try on, much like a waitress serving delicate pastries. The first was a Betsey Johnson, black, lacy looking number with pink bows connecting parted straps at my shoulders. The size was a B cup, 32 waist. The bra I had arrived wearing that day was an A cup, 34 waist, so I was a little skeptical.
I tried it on and it fit like a dream, but the band was a little snugger than I was used to. Deb returned and carefully adjusted the straps, looking it over carefully, like a shrewd-eyed craftsman. She told me to shrug my shoulders, lift my arms, or pull them across my breasts to determine whether the fit felt comfortable while I was in motion, or if it rose onto my breast tissue. When I stretched my right arm over to the left, the cup, which rose a bit high, poked into my arm. So that was a no go.

As more bras were procured I learned that there are many variables I had never considered when buying bras. For starters, the waistband of the bra is the foundation or the anchor of the entire unit. If it doesn’t sit parallel to your waist, or it isn’t snug enough, it will rise up and so will the straps, no longer supporting your breasts. As Deb so aptly put it, “You might as well pay to hold them up with your hands all day.” So apparently choosing a 34 waist had been a mistake, which Deb proved by stretching the band out from my waist to show how easily it would move up my back. Strike number one, but at least I was learning. Bra bands do tend to stretch anyway, explained Deb, so a snug fit is the smartest way to go.
She also surprised me when she delivered a chocolate-brown C cup bra, which covered my breasts entirely, making me feel more comfortable, if a little lost in a larger cup. I told Deb how I had always felt that a C cup was for bigger girls, which I was obviously not. She explained how mainstream stores don't provide adequate sizes, and that women with larger breasts are often stuck wearing double D’s when in reality they are closer to a G cup. Bra size does not determine your breast size, she explained. If one day you wear a B cup, that doesn’t make you a B cup. Bra designs vary. One may fit you in a C or a B, depending on a number of variables, but the comfort is what counts, not how small or big you believe you are. She said something that I found quite poetic…as though it could have belonged on a brassiere-shaped plaque, “You wear the bra, the bra doesn’t wear you.”
What I took away from the experience was an understanding that bra sizes shouldn’t determine how I feel about my breasts, any more than my jean size should influence how I feel about my legs. It helped me to feel better about myself, and closer to banishing one more self negating attitude. Deb gave me a lot of great advice, and her unwavering attention to educate me, find me the perfect fit, and adjust each bra so that it sat properly on my body (without pressuring me to purchase anything) felt like a pampering experience. Some of us can feel so uptight about others seeing us or coming into personal contact with us while we’re in our lingerie (unless it’s a lover) but somehow I felt comfortable, and less self-conscious than I thought I would be.
I definitely suggest that every woman get a professional bra-fitting, especially if you have any doubts about your size, or if you just want to learn more about what you’re wearing every day to hold up your ta-ta’s. The atmosphere at Secrets from your Sister is very friendly and open, with a beautiful décor, helpful employees and very lovely bras, even though they can be a bit pricey (keep a lookout for sales!). Think of it as something positive you can do for your breasts, your body, or even your self esteem.

Speech to a "guy I almost slept with"

2009-01-30T15:07:00.000-08:00

What I find very interesting about this commercial on youtube is that many males who commented on the video only had negative things to say. Along the lines of "She's spewing feminist bullshit," "she sounds so annoying," ect. ect. My issue is this, any smart, educated, woman who cares about her health and well-being is going to practice safe-sex. Period.

You don't have to be a self-identifying feminist to feel this way, you just have to be intelligent. Its clear and simple. Any guy who feels that this attitude is "annoying," or a "turn off," needs to take some time and think about whether he respects women or not.

I love the message of this commercial, delivered in a unique dialogue. She is not going to settle for less, and she was the one with the condom. Despite the assumptions that some people make, protection is not just a male responsibility, its a woman's too.

The fact that he had to hear that...think about it, and then say "OK, you win!" does not guarantee that he'll get any whoopee. Very refreshing.

Ca-yute!

2009-01-30T13:32:00.000-08:00

The "F" Word

2009-01-29T23:42:00.000-08:00

The “F” word or the “F” bomb. If you drop this loaded word in public it can very possibly result in a nasty reaction. It’s a word of power. A word of strength, equality and respect. It’s a word that can be used for good, a word that educates, but it can also be misinterpreted. It should be a word that brings us together, but unfortunately it can result in a divide of understanding. The word is feminism.

Today I happened to hear a lot of women articulate what the word feminism meant to them, and it really opened my eyes to the diverse array of experiences and meanings this word encapsulates for each individual.
Sadly, many people today (especially young people) regard this term as a relic of the past. Society has turned feminism into the new “F” word. “Didn’t they burn bras?” people will enquire. “They’re man-haters or dykes,” is another crude, uneducated response. These are typical reactions, and not even the worst. If someone actually had the nerve to say, “Feminists just need a good fuck,” within earshot of me I would feel the need to blatantly express my offence, whether they claimed to be joking or not.

Feminism has been warped into a negative stereotype. People either don’t believe it is necessary, or they label it as something threatening, bitchy, or anti-male. If you really take a good look around at the world, and I say world because women’s rights is a global issue, not just a North American one, then you will see that we are not yet equal. But it can be hard for some people to see beyond their white, middle class, privileged, democratic bubble, living in a place like Canada or the United States.

The reality is that despite living in a democratic country, equality still doesn’t exist for all women: For women who immigrated from another country, who don’t speak english as their first language, who are single mothers, who don’t have access to safe, legal abortions, who are not provided with free, adequate sexual education, who are denied the use of birth control, Plan B, or other safe-sex options, who don’t look Caucasian, who are denied jobs based on their gender/race or appearance, who are not paid the same as men for work of equal value, who are not of a heterosexual orientation, who are not able-bodied, who support a family while working a full-time, minimum wage job, who are below the poverty line, who are oppressed due to religious and cultural family traditions, who have been verbally assaulted on the streets or transit system, who have been sexually, emotionally, financially and spiritually abused, who don’t feel safe walking alone at night, who were discouraged from pursuing jobs predominantly filled by men, who feel fat every time they look at an advertisement, who are told by the media that they need to constantly strive to fit the “beauty” standard, who are encouraged to enhance their bodies through plastic surgery, who are told that once they get wrinkles and grey hairs they can no longer be sexy or beautiful, who are made to believe that if they sleep with multiple sexual partners they are a slut, and if they refuse they are a frigid prude, who feel pressured to try every acne cream, weight loss pill and lip plumper on the market, who are forced to fill the domestic role in their household, who encounter a glass ceiling in workplace promotions, who work long hours in unsafe conditions with no benefits, who are called bitch, cunt, or whore, degradingly based on gender, and who encounter sexist stereotypes based solely on their looks or background.
For all these women and many more, we are not treated as equals. Feminism has come a long way in fighting for women’s rights, but there are still many areas that need to improve in order for women to truly have control over their bodies, sexuality, safety, jobs, education and social encounters. The unjust experiences that women endure don’t cease to exist outside your city, province, or country. They connect us all, and should carry the same significance no matter where they occur.

To me, being a feminist means feeling empowered in your womanhood, in your own beauty, worth, and intelligence without basing your value on the traditional standards of femininity that we may have grown up with. For me feminism is about having control over your reproductive health, sexual expression and your body.
It’s about knowing that you don’t have to model the projected “norm” in society in order to be considered a woman. You needn’t feel like you have to paint your nails, shave your armpits, pluck your eyebrows, scrub toilets on a regular basis, follow all the latest fashion trends, cook a 4 course meal flawlessly, single-handedly raise your children, or please your man in bed with 10 sexy techniques, unless that’s what you want to do. Feminism is about being your own person, living by your own standards and realizing that you are not bound by the female gender norms created by society.

The word also doesn’t exclude men, in my opinion. If a man stands behind women’s rights, and advocates actively for equality through thoughts, words or actions then I believe he is a feminist. Regardless of having privilege or not, there are men who aren’t ashamed to call themselves a feminist, and I think that’s a very admirable thing that shouldn’t be discouraged by making feminism a gender exclusive term. There’s nothing that can be gained by pushing people away from a positive belief, only something to be lost.
Feminism means something different to everyone, whether you classify yourself as a liberal, radical, marxist, something undefined or in between the spectrums. The word encompasses a unique set of core values and beliefs for each individual. It could sum up your entire personality or only represent one part of the way you see yourself. Either way, the next time you hear feminism being referred to as the “F” word, consider how it is expressed in your thoughts, values or actions. How do you define it?

Try a little tenderness!

2009-01-23T17:07:00.000-08:00

Ohhh Duckie, you will always have a place in my heart. Pretty in Pink is a pretty timeless portrayal of teenage tendencies to ostracize anyone who seems “different” or is labelled as impoverished, strange, or belonging to a subculture that deviates from the “norm.” It is interesting how the rich, white, suburban kids are considered the “normal teenager.” They set the standard in the film for how teens should dress, act, or what they purchase. I love how Duckie, and the red-headed recipient of his unrequited love represent “the other”, since they don’t look the same, shop from the same clothing store, or fit into the same economic status, demoting them to a lesser social category. All social analyzing aside, I adore how Duckie is brave enough to dance/ lip-sinc to this song. He is truly an exceptional guy. I would have chosen him over the preppy guy any day. He also makes me want to dance.

The Feminist Porn Debate

2009-01-06T12:32:00.000-08:00

Now to delve into the endless debate, can porn actually be pro-woman, or feminist? Can porn reflect actual female desire and pleasure, and be filmed under ethical, safe, respectful conditions, with women at the helm of producing and writing creative content.

Well I say, hell ya! I attended the Feminist Porn Awards screening, hosted by Good For Her last April in Toronto and saw numerous examples of legitimate, empowering female pleasure on the big screen. The films were independently produced, with real women celebrating their sexuality for themselves and women everywhere, not just for a male meat-wanking audience.

Alison Lee, the manager of Torono’s feminist sex shop, Good For Her, organized the awards last year and actively works to bring a large variety of independent porn DVD’s into her store. She published the feature article in the November/Decemeber issue of This Magazine, entitled “The New Face of Porn,” about her own experience as a feminist to accept and celebrate feminist porn, and the historical backlash against pornography from certain feminist groups. Below is also a video of Alison inside Good For Her, sharing her thoughts about the article and her own experiences with porn.

Reading this article really got me thinking about my own feelings about porn and its capacity to empower women as opposed to demeaning them. I truly feel that the women behind and in front of the camera don’t have to be victimized as moral-less women who need to be saved and were forced into this line of work as a bankrupt last resort. Some of them make porn or act in porn because they truly want to change the face of pornography today and cater to female pleasure while showcasing the beauty of natural women with curves, queer and trans women, women with disabilities, women of different ethnicities, and women who look like everyday women, not an unattainable standard of “plastic” beauty.
Bren Ryder films and features real lesbian sex in Gooddykeporn.com

Loree Erickson is a queer-femmegimp who showcases her own sexy times in "Want"

Although when it comes to feminist porn, many debate whether certain sexual acts can be defined as “feminist”, such as cum shots, anal penetration or anything that could be construed as degrading. First of all, what gets some women sopping wet could potentially turn a whole crowd of ladies right off, and that’s part of the beauty of pornography. It can individually cater to our desires, and what I desire may not even remotely resemble what you vibrate to, so get over it already. Each of us has a parcel of unique fetish’s, and as long as it isn’t something that obviously inflicts unwanted, serious pain on a woman, then you don’t have to watch it if you find it offensive. If some women relish having semen on their face, tits or ass, well, power to them, they have a right to enjoy and participate in that on screen if they so choose, and any woman at home has the privilege of revelling in observing it. What makes one woman a feminist isn’t true for another, so trying to fit every single sexual act under some umbrella “feminist” definition isn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Spanking, bondage, and many other kinks are specific to your arousal, so this discussion will likely continue for as long as porn does.

Erika Lust is a feminist film maker featuring hot, steamy stories for women

But it is very rewarding and admirable to witness some independent companies led by women who are trying to get diverse, natural, female-driven, sexy feminist porn out there for women who are tired of watching tanned, bleached, hairless, cellulite-free women who look like they were fashioned by surgeons to feed male desire.

Porn should also reflect female-desire, and most of us don’t look like plastic “dolls”, so I’m glad there are examples of real women and real sex out there for this generation of girls who are discovering their sexuality and aren’t shamed of it.

Can't beat The Ting Tings

2008-12-27T18:25:00.000-08:00

Pulsing beats and a sassy voice got me to perk up my ears when I heard The Tings Tings for the first time. Remember that iPod commercial with the groovy colours and catchy tune, “Shut up and let me go”?

Well, leave it to Apple to hunt down the most energetic indie songs and plant them permanently in our brains. But they definitely got it right with this English dance-punk band, consisting of Katie White and Jules De Martino (with his constant sunglasses) both on vocals, guitar and drums. Appropriately, according to one Chinese character, ting means “to listen.”

Their debut album, “We started nothing,” was released in May this year, and they’ve already won best UK video at the MTV Music awards for “Shut up and let me go.” They’ve followed it up with “Great DJ”, which was practically driving me mad because I couldn’t figure out who the artist behind it was.
Their sound has been referred to as, “Homemade pop that’s D-I-Y, danceable and energetic”. I couldn’t agree more. Every time I hear Katie singing “I ain’t freakin’, I aint’ fakin’ this, I definitely want to dance, yell, jump or all of the above.

The acoustic version is also pretty rad + "standing in the way of control", on BBC Radio 1.

Too bad they won’t be in Canada anytime soon, but keep an eye on their psychedelic, pop-punk flair, cuz this duo has an original beat.

Merry X-Mas with bright Lights

2008-12-24T19:37:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas! Here's some adorable Lights moments.

A short clip of "Last thing on your mind," with Batman, of course.

And her cute cover of "Nobody wanna see us together," by Akon.

2008-12-22T10:05:00.000-08:00

This is kind of funny...this poor guy got stuck in front of my place.

Getting to know David Martel

2008-12-20T15:13:00.000-08:00

There are some epic love songs that leave you breathless, transporting you to someplace far away in your mind. David Martel, a Canadian indie-folk singer from Montreal possesses that amazing story telling quality in his music. One moment you’re in the crowd, watching him play his guitar and the next you’re caught up in the passionate landscape that he paints.

I watched David perform in October at Lee’s Palace in Toronto, as an opener for Mother Mother, wearing an old fashioned hat and fuzzy slippers. He sang like his life depended on it, and I was hooked. Plus a cellist was involved, which made it even more soulful and romantic sounding. It was musical-love at first sight.
His debut album, “I Hardly Knew Me,” was birthed in 2007, with the help of many different musicians intricately layering their instrumental gifts. This album resembles a love letter read in bed, with the winter sunlight peeping under your curtains. Capable of both slow, soft lyrical moments, David sings with an unquestionable passion and playfulness on stage and on record. Songs like, “End of self” have a rock anthem/ ballad quality to them which crash with intensity.

He captivatingly takes you through his highs and lows, with songs like, “Cancel all your plans,” and “Stay In,” which end on powerful, thundering tempos. “Be all, end all,” is another fierce song about the end of relationships.

Are you waiting for the sun to rise
to make this over?
just hold me up to the light
see what’s still left over
stop waiting for the sun to rise
don’t pretend it’s over
your freedom waits in sacrifice.

Like any good love story his songs take you on a high, leaving you with the feeling that in life, despite the endings that occur, there is something on the horizon. Intimate lyrics are meshed with the sounds of guitar, piano, accordion, flutes and synths, as well as his talented female vocalist, Natasha-Lou Landry.
I’m sure that his visually stunning lyrics and disarming performances will get a lot of attention in the near future. Hopefully Canada will be getting to know the talented Mr. Martel a lot better, very soon.

Adventures of the dirty Christmas cookies

2008-12-20T12:51:00.000-08:00

This is what they do when left to their own devices
She's not faking it

Beautiful cookie love

When the working day is done, Oh girls, they wanna have fun

Celebrating the festive season

Stronger than he looks

As naughty as they are sweet

Lights!

2008-12-19T22:10:00.000-08:00

This tiny, cat-eyed, sweet faced girl just stole my heart with her synthesized tunes and nerdy ways. Who knew that a headband could be so adorable? Lights, or Valerie Poxleitner, is a Toronto-based space artist-princess who makes puppets, rides neon dino’s, befriends pet tarantula’s and converses with her shower curtain in her spare time. Her synth-pop-indie-new wave sound is adorable, and listening to her acoustic songs is a simply lovely experience.

I just watched her captivating video-blog series on youtube, which is currently on hold until the New Year. She first flooded our ear drums in an Old Navy commercial featuring, “The last thing on your mind,” and again with “February Air," which is now an original music video sequal to "Drive my soul," with a cute retro, comic book feel.

She started playing music at the age of 11, and her EP album, “Lights” was recently released on September 16th, 2008. Her three-person band consists of herself on vocals, guitar and keytar, with Adam Weaver on synthesizers and Maurie Kaufmann on drums.
She’s been touring all fall and will continue to hit up Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Columbia in the New Year. Here’s a unique Canadian artist who creates her own music, designs, resembles a nerdy little ray of sunshine and makes us laugh with her playful personality. I only hope she returns to Toronto soon. Her sweet sound and happy lyrics make me eager to witness the glow.

A luscious list thats Good For Her

2008-12-10T14:27:00.000-08:00

Good news for the holidays! Good for her, Toronto’s cozy, accommodating, educational, workshop-providing sex shop, has compiled their top 20 picks for 2008. This incredibly erotic list of goodies includes toys and porn as fabulous and diverse as the people who purchase them. You won’t find a pile of blonde, tanned, double-D babes here, just hot porn made for female pleasure. Between their top ten new products and porno DVD’s there’s a lot of nifty items to log down for your wish list this year. From the Mia Rechargeable Vibrator, which is slim, compact and can be hooked up to a USB port for recharging, to Five Hot Stories for Her, which won the 2008 Feminist Porn awards movie of the year, there’s a little something naughty to please everyone.
If you like porn with great soundtracks, cinematography, real women and men, diverse races and body types, and creative plots then Good for Her is the way to go when searching for porn that will push your buttons. You’ll find trans couples, gay, lesbian, straight, bisexual, one night stands, orgies, light bondage, S&M, titillating sex therapy, and masturbation documentaries to satisfy a range of sexual palettes.
Find what toys and vids ranked the highest this year, and which received a staff seal of approval at Good For Her by checking out this tempting directory for all your holiday pleasure needs!

Good For Her Top Picks for 2008

The Sasi Intelligent Vibrator is a A keen toy that knows what you want and won't stop until you're satisfied. Check out this link for an instructional vid.

The We-Vibe stimulates your G-spot and your clitoris during solo fun or intercourse, so you'll both feel the vibrations. Thats right ladies, you can wear it during sex, and its very versatile. Here's a tip-filled vid from Babeland sex toy shop in Seattle.

Triple dose of Cho

2008-11-30T20:23:00.000-08:00

Miss Cho is definitely at the top of my favourite strong, intelligent, hilarious, in-your-freakin’-face feminist women out there. I reviewed her Beautiful tour on this blog last April, and now it seems that I need to go check out her not-so-new show, The Cho Show, which premiered Aug. 21, on VH1.

If you feel the need for a dose of her own, self-scripted television creation which features a midget that resembles her, plus her mom who she is always imitating with great results, then get on the thecomedynetwork.ca to watch all 7 episodes.
Her interview with George Stroumboulopoulos is also very entertaining, specifically when she refers to her pussy as having a G-block party as big as Massy Hall with good acoustics. I love how honestly she talks about her pussy issues, for instance, referring to her pussy as haunted and then deciding to appease the ghosts that dwell within.

Dear Margaret Cho, you will always have a place in my heart. Largely because of the video below, enjoy!

Pro-life = Anti-woman

2008-11-30T18:28:00.000-08:00

George Carlin speaks the truth when he says that pro-lifers can be anti-woman. I especially like this statement that he makes, “When some of these other cardinals and bishops have experienced their first pregnancies and their first labour pains and they’ve raised a couple of children on minimum wage then I’ll be glad to hear what they have to say about abortion. I’m sure it will be interesting.” This video will certainly spark some thought about what is in the state’s best interests or the woman’s, when it comes to abortion. Crude and blunt-to-a-tee, he makes a good point.

Not your typical "ladylike" picnic

2008-11-30T17:30:00.000-08:00

Picnicface, a hilarious comedy troupe from Halifax, Nova Scotia always cracks me up with their in-your-face, politically incorrect, shock value homour. You really have to take a lot of it with a grain of salt, especially the following clip featuring the two women of the posse, Evany Rosen and Cheryl Hann. (Apparently they just performed in Toronto and I managed to miss then, bummer.)
I really admire these women, from midget jokes, to being chased by hoards of men in tiny whities, they can perform in skits that are just as raunchy, laugh-out-loud offensive and cleverly jarring as the boys. Keep an eye out to see when the picnic crew will visit your city.

Sexy Lady Party at Ryerson's Women's Centre

2008-11-30T14:42:00.000-08:00

“I’m going to show you my vulva, which is really exciting for me,” says Renee Pilgrim, smiling at the eight women seated on an afghan around her. A plate of chocolate covered strawberries sits in the centre of the circle, and tiny candles flicker at the edges.

With wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail she leans back and spreads her legs, and for a second I wonder if I’m comfortable with this kind of educational experience, until she reaches behind herself and pulls out a colourful vulva puppet.

I’m at a sex toy party on a Thursday evening, hosted by the Ryerson Women’s Centre in Oakham House, where we’re receiving a crash course on satisfactory self-serve lovin’.

Pilgrim works at Good for Her, a female friendly sex shop in Toronto, and has been teaching workshops for 3 years. Between discussions of our lovely lady parts, self pleasure, porn, and safe sex, she encourages us to voice our thoughts and questions.

“Sex is something you have to have an open mind about,” says first year journalism student, Kristen Millar, who feels confident sharing her experiences in a female environment. “If we’re discussing it, it’s positive, to get women empowered and break down negative societal stereotypes.”
Before using a plush vulva to give us an intimate tour of our anatomy, Pilgrim explains how students low on cash can find alternative sex props. Play the pervertables game.

“I go to the dollar store and look at what I can fuck myself with”, she says, with a grin, “You can go in with five bucks and come out with three or four toys.” Suddenly beads, brushes, and clothes pins serve entirely new functions.

So does vaginal fluid. “Just rub it all over your face. It’s really good for your complexion,” chimes Pilgrim, to a chorus of laughter.

Between passing around vibrators, curved phalluses, strap-ons and pornography we address the fact that there is no shame in dedicating time to the pursuit of individual sexual pleasure.

Pilgrim points out that many women purchase sex toys to improve the relationship with their partner, “but who’s that orgasm for?” It’s about developing a relationship with our bodies, she says, motioning to herself. “This is the only thing you can fully control, what goes in and what goes out.”

She suggests making a schedule to explore your body. To do: tits on Wednesday, ass on Friday. “Bums don’t get enough attention,” says Pilgrim, fixing us with a serious look.

In the end we learn some basic tips about manual stimulation 101. Cleaning your toys with soap and water is much safer than some cleaners available in stores, because as Pilgrim says, “If you can’t eat it, don’t put it in you.” You can also sterilize silicone by boiling it.

And if you want to do some warm up stretches in anticipation of the night ahead, do some kegel exercises on your subway ride. They can turn your pussy “on”, so to speak, by activating blood flow to the vulva. Pilgrim mentioned another benefit, “When you’re 69 you won’t pee yourself.”

When it comes to masturbation and sex, Pilgrim definitely emphasized exploring our self pleasure instead of expecting someone to hand it to us. And it doesn’t have to be a clock in, clock out job. Servicing yourself can be as sensual and rewarding as you make it, just make some time to play a perverted game or two.

*Also featured on theeyeopener.com - Ryerson University's student run newspaper

Send me on my way

2008-10-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

This is an incredibly happy, joyful, uplifting, simple, playful song by the band, Rusted Root, called "Send me on my way." It always makes me smile. I recently re-watched a film that was a childhood favourite of mine, called Matilda, and this song is featured in it. I definitely recommend the movie to anyone who loved the book by Roald Dahl. This song brings back memories of visiting my grandmother's farm, eating crackers in her living room, colouring and watching the movie over and over. Just thought I would share the upbeat tune, enjoy!

Here's a snippet from the band live.

Detachable vagina?

2008-10-22T18:46:00.000-07:00

"Ladies wouldn't it be wonderful if our pussies were detachable?

Let that marinate a little bit, just think about that."

I'm a bit torn between laughing at Wanda's cure for rape, and feeling annoyed with the fact that she's making light of violence against women, and possibly normalizing it. I'm aware that this is humour, but suggesting that we should remove the magnet of sin between our legs points the finger at women. Maybe men should just remove their junk before they go out at night? Personally I’d feel a lot more comfortable jogging around my neighbourhood at 11 p.m. with that option.

And if we’re on a date, once they get the green light from us they can swing by their place and pick it up.

Just some food for thought.

Filth and Wisdom

2008-10-20T20:02:00.000-07:00

Madonna has taken a stab at directing. I just discovered her debut film, "Filth and Wisdom", which premiered at the Berlin Film Festival on February 13, 2008 to reviews of praise. A comedy about the people who fall between "the good" and "the bad", stars Eugene Hutz, who plays a Ukrainian gypsy pursuing rock stardom while spanking men for a living.
He is our narrator who connects the unlikely characters of this film, Holly the ballet dancer who strips for a gentleman's club, and Juliette, who works at a pharmacy and steals medication for her charitable aspirations.

Apparently Madonna flexed her writing mucles and earned a co-credit for the script, which contains a lot of playful narration from our gypsy lead who articulates, “Without filth there cannot be wisdom,” while pulling at his in-your-face stache.“They are two sides of the same coin.”

It looks like it is well worth the gander.

Here's a clip from an interview with Madonna and a few moments from the film.

O My Heart

2008-10-19T14:49:00.000-07:00

Lee’s Palace is packed to the tits. The air is charged on a Friday night, as hip kid’s crowd the floor, beers in hand as red lights reflect off their scarves and sneakers. The rooster himself, Ryan Guldemond has landed on the stage decked with his signature cock-a-doodle flare and is belting out, “O My heart it’s a fish out of water.”
The Vancouver based indie rock band, Mother Mother, has arrived in Toronto and their theatrical, jazzy aura is quite impossible to ignore. The quintet has certainly made an impression on the Canadian music scene since launching their debut CD “Touch Up”, in 2005.

The eclectic style of their first album, which mixed jazz, folk and rock was dramatic and not widely recognized in the industry. “O My Heart”, their follow up creation, is getting some marvellous attention from critics who have praised the queen-worthy lyrics and focussed sound of rock and dance-club pop. Tonight everyone is absorbing it into their bloodstream, lovin’ every minute of the passionate, raw sound.

Debra-Jean and Molly are squaring off, a crazy look gleaming in their eyes, as the sinister and catchy tune, “Hay Loft” starts up.

“My daddy's got a gun, my daddy's got a gun, my daddy's got a gun, you better run.”

The girls stand opposite each other, wide in stance, voices crashing against each other, as Debra-Jean brandishes a flexed finger of warning. The effect is instantaneous. Heads bob and bodies start moving to the eerie, repetitive beat, as Ryan jumps in with his commanding pipes.

“It started with the hayloft a - creakin'well it just started in the hay – LOFT!

With his long johns on, Pop went a-creeping, out to the barn, up to the hay.”

The trio sounds related, with high in sync, wailing melodic voices, complimenting each other like three ascending notes on the keyboard. Ryan and Molly are siblings, with identically pronounced cheek bones, but Molly has more of a serene look; eyes closed ethereally or opened wide and fright-like as her fingers manipulate the keyboard.

The signature classic, “Touch up”, hits a chord, as a frenzy of movement erupts on the dance floor, and those leaning on the railings diagonal the stage automatically move their lips.

“Mascara all up in my eyes, chemical hair dyes and highlights. Higher than my lights, higher than highlights. My makeup, it has washed off. I need a touch up.”

With an unnerving look of possession, Debra-Jean looks like she’s in a crazed vocal trance, eyes focussed straight ahead, head rocking from side-to-side, her hair pulled back at the sides with short bangs.

Later, the slow, hypnotic twang of the guitar leads us to “Ghosting”, as Ryan, in his button up shirt and beige pants eases the vocals to a soft, low pace.

“I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along. Ghost in your house,ghost in your arms.”

Molly lifts her voice harmoniously in the background, situated at her small keyboard, in a red dress with a defined black V-neck and a creampuff gathering of red material around her legs.

The night has mostly been a showcase for their loud, glam rock songs, like “Verbatim” with a thumping beat that induces sexual fantasies about men who wear “women’s underwear.” And who know that what a woman (and loudly echoing crowd) loves most is, “A man who can slap but can also stroke.”

Once the show has climaxed, the audience claps and hollers itself into hysterics until Ryan’s blonde Elvis-styled do graciously returns to the stage. With a humbled, cool demeanour he offers us a little more.

But this time Debra-Jean is in the spotlight, for her imploring, twisted lover’s ballad, “Love and Truth,” which is truly an incomparable experience live.

“Love and Truth
Why are they so hard to achieve,
Love and truth
They're such hot commodities
But come in such small quantities.”

The raw force of her voice causes goose bumps to break out, as Ryan’s nimble guitar notes blast along in a Santana-esque style.

“If everything was up to me I'd make sure that there was plenty of love and truth
Love and truth where are you?”

At this point all hell breaks loose. Debra-Jean unleashes a torrent of pent up sound, careening in time with the pounding fast paced rhythm of the beats and quirky guitar notes. Her body vibrates, mouth open in a long emotional release. It ends in a passionate flourish and turmoil of drums.

This dynamic sound will invade your mind and haunt you for days. With original, addictive lyrics and clever meshing of genres, Mother Mother will be the type of poltergeist you’d love to stick around.

*Soon to be published in Mutedmag.com November issue

Journey through the white night of Nuit Blanche

2008-10-06T18:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just want to experience art, instead of simply staring at something on the wall. Those things on the wall may be lovely, but it’ll never compare to taste-testing compositions of coloured coconut that resemble intimate lady parts, or witnessing the celebration of a Mac computer being hurled from a significant height, or tying your not-so-secret wish to a tree. No, my friends, you’ll only find this at Nuit Blanche, which invited Torontonians to experience live art on Oct. 4.

I started my late-night artsy foray on a Saturday night at Dundas Square, where project “15 seconds” was underway. A wooden watch tower had been erected in the South East corner and a solitary figure shone a spotlight on occupants of the square for 15 seconds. Thankfully I wasn’t exposed by the bright light. From there we ventured on to the Ryerson Campus where Lake Devo, at the corner of Victoria St. and Gould, was home to a posse of yellow rubber ducks.

They were corralled off though, no doubt to protect the crowds from their wild and vicious temperaments, or to keep onlookers from swiping them. I admit I entertained fantasies of nabbing one for my very own, but it wasn’t meant to be.

By the time I returned to carry out my kidnapping, the bath-time birds had migrated off the campus with spectators. Next door, in between the Ryerson student centre and the O’Keefe building we walked through “House of leaves,” an alleyway of pages torn from books that reached up the walls like fluttering foliage.

Then it was onward to Maple Leaf Gardens, where “Without Persons” consisted of two large screens depicting corn starch that bubbled in accompaniment to Stephen Hawking audio. I was more interested to be inside the place for the first time, but a robotic talking substance wasn’t all that captivating so we made haste toward the Eaton Centre.

In the centre of the mall the throngs observed “Into the Blue” a giant, suspended, blue inflatable object. It was a cross between a floating tube frequently lounging in pools, and a spiralling massive of jellyfish. From directly underneath it put me in the mind of a squid’s intimate parts, even though I haven’t witnessed that private sight.

Nearby at Nathan Phillips Square, an interactive light instillation entitled, "Stereoscope," displayed pixelated images on the individual windows of City Hall. We watched a larger than life game of pong, and then hopped on the streetcar to Dufferin and Queen St. West. On the way we passed by Trinity Bellwoods Park, home to hundreds of glowing red lights perched above the grass. Unfortunately by the time of our return they had been extinguished.

Once at Dufferin we curiously approached a grim reaper look alike on the street before arriving at the Gladstone Hotel, which has been a quite the hot spot at Nuit Blanche for the past three years. From the street I could see brightly coloured skulls, so we ventured in for a closer look at “El Craneo” an exhibit based on the Mexican, “day of the dead.” Every handmade skull had a personality and one even resembled a disco ball. Up the stairs we saw a giant metal fly dangling plates designed with intersecting flies. Three dimensional illustrations erupted out of sinks, a warm cave like room provided shelter and the period table got a face lift. Next on the agenda was the King St. West area, part of Zone C which provided an illuminating and diverse experience. With my eye set on erotic inspiration, we travelled to the corner of Snooker St. and Hanna Ave to divulge in “SNIFF, LICK, PINCH, NIBBLE, SWALLOW.” It wasn’t quite what I expected. A sexually abstract composition of coloured coconut shavings lay on a long stretch of plastic. It smelt wonderful. Handfuls of tiny indentations in the design suggested that the title of the project was to be taken literally. So I nibbled, pinched, sniffed and swallowed some coconut that resembled the delicacies in between a woman’s legs. Not far away we stumbled upon “Dandyberry” a set of rectangular blocks covered in bubble wrap, which emitted disembodied voices. Wandering though them, I was tempted to pop the bubble wrap (who wouldn’t be?) and got reprimanded by a man with a walkie- talkie who was chastising other likeminded souls.

A series of destruction themed exhibits followed. On Liberty St. one building was ablaze in a project entitled “Purified by Fire” while another had water pouring from the window, in “Overflow.” Over at the parking lot of 60 Atlantic Ave. was “SMASH! Droppin’ Stuff” where uniquely themed shows where hosted every hour by the custodians of destruction. We witnessed the Christmas show, which included the hanging and quartering of a shelf elf, the plummet of a Buddha statue, large candle shaped yard ornaments that met their end, a Mac computer shattering splendidly, and 35 snow globes pitched to the ground in succession.

One of my personal conquests followed when we crossed over to the corner of Lamport Stadium. “Imagine Peace”, was a project created by Yoko Ono, as a form of collective secular prayer. We approached trees covered in paper tags, which had been inscribed with thousands of wishes. I chose to write two wishes, and then hung them as high as my height would allow. There was something about all those positive thoughts that was very satisfying to witness and participate in.
We passed by the stadium, which was filled with a crowd of performing mascots on the field and sparsely occupied bleachers. Over at the corner of Liberty St. and Mowat Ave. we chanced upon “Euphemisms for the intimate enemy,” a wall of bee-coloured words on stacks of connected 55 gallon drums. The words intersect in a cross-word jumble effect, for example, “maintain a monkeys”, “liberated women,” and “any kind of hope.”
Hopping back on the street car we headed east along Queen St., saw some ink-drawing street art and finally reached Queen’s Park, where “Sound Forest” was commencing in the Northern area of the trees. A choir of figures dressed in back stood in the shadows beneath the dark branches, singing festively, as onlookers joined in.

At the foot of the park was a cascading waterfall quilt of plastic on the Ontario Power Generation Building. It resembled glowing, underwater seaweed, and contrasted with the red flashing lights of the traffic and buildings behind us.
Taking the subway down to Union Station we waited in a long winding line that stretched throughout the corridors towards the Air Canada Centre. Hearing disturbing sounds and blurred images we waited behind glass doors and entered into the “Horroridor.” On either side of us were 20-foot multi-channel projections of screams.
Known and unknown Horror/thriller flicks flashed before our eyes, and every few seconds a new piercing shriek, death cry, terrified squeal, or angry, guttural yell filled the air, as bloody, violent, shocking images flooded our eyes and our minds. A freakish alien burst out of a stomach, blood poured from open orifices and women ran in sheer terror, as crowds of us stood watching, with a mixture of expressions.

I found this project the most interesting, because as spellbinding as it was to watch the alarming images on the screens, the surrounding audience was equally enthralling. Beside me a few twenty-something’s erupted into shrieks and cries, clutching at their faces, goading each other on, and adding to the general din. Some, like me, fluctuated between astounded laughter and mixed concentration and discomfort. After about 10 minutes of exposure I felt like I had just been an accomplice in multiple murders…but as much as I wanted to leave, I was also hypnotically captivated by the random, crazy, ambience of it all.

On the last leg of our journey, around 2 a.m. we headed up to Yonge and Gerrard, to see the much talked about “Zombies in Condoland.” A long line snaked up to a tent, where everyday citizens could “zombify” with bloody gashes, wounds and clammy un-dead complexions. They could also don ripped and shredded clothing, to personalize the look. A speaker nearby announced that zombies arrive on set in 15 minutes to be filmed. Throughout the crowd of onlookers you could spot the odd flesh-eater, prowling sluggishly, dragging their limbs. I even saw a CTV reported all bloodied up with his camera man. Every once in a while someone would creep up behind an unsuspecting “normie.” Then came the delicious shrieks.

So another eclectic trek through a Toronto transformed by art has passed, among teeming crowds eager to hunt down extra-ordinary experiences till sunrise. Although I don’t think this year’s projects were as captivating as the year prior, it was still an event worth seeking. Having comfortable shoes, some booze, and a navigator certainly helped. And even though I never nabbed a duck, I was definitely satisfied with the white night.

Word on the street in pictures

2008-09-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

Have you heard the word? A treasure trove of books indeed.

Such a beautiful day for a literature festival in Queen's Park. The balloons and buskers were out in full force.Kiss Machine: A congo line of graphic arts and culture. Such a stupendously spunky magazine.
Here's Mariko Tamaki ( wearing the hat in the centre), the Toronto-based writer of Skim, a graphic novel which inspired Kiss Machine.

This is Kiss Machine's last issue. *sob* They were selling back issues (and the newest issue featured here) at 3 issues for 5$. Such a steal.
And for girls who get it, flock to Shameless. If you look closely you can spot editor, Megan Griffith-Greene, standing in the brown shirt. Another reason to check out Shameless is....
...because I contributed to the newest issue! My review of Lisa Bozikovic's self-titled EP can be found on pg. 44. (yes I am aware that this is shameless self promotion *wink*)

The Women's Book Store booth. They had some on sale for 2.99$

Heading home, hanging in Museum station. This ancient column looked quite friendly. I named him Ya-bub.
Maybe if I stand still enough I can become a permanent fixture. We do have similar noses. What a splendid day celebrating words.

A peek in the window

2008-09-26T21:31:00.000-07:00

I walk past houses at night
Peer inside
To see their life
Is it like mine?
Do their feet squeak on the pavement?
Do they sing when no one can hear?
Where is the sign
That will tell me where my toes
Should land
On solid ground?
I might just plunge in,
Being this godly can’t be good for me
I don’t know the steps
But I don’t have to
Today I’ll plod on blind
Walk on air
The blindfold is tied and secure for once
I can’t stare
At your choices
What I see in here is larger than it appears
The blind spots hinder me
So I’ll make it more clear
Wipe off the glass
Take a good look
Where I can’t hide
Behind excuses
I’ll feel my foot hit the ground
And then the other
The rhythm of my pace
Has a kind of grace
That I didn’t plan
Today
I do what I can
To keep my eyes
On my face

Lovely Ladyfest evening at Tranzac

2008-09-21T21:25:00.000-07:00

Emma Brender, better know as Party Time, ceases to play the guitar for a moment, at the sound of the cell phone ringing plaintively and audibly. She looks down near her black sneakers and announces, laughing, “Oh, its this phone, that’s funny.”

The crowd gathered at Tranzac on a Saturday night, for Ladyfest’s solo-artist concert seems to think so as they erupt into sporadic giggles.
Emma smiles uncontrollably explaining, “Its not my phone, but I should have turned it off, duh!” She has a short, boyish haircut and wears a navy tee and jeans. When she starts strumming the same tune again most of us seated in clusters can’t contain our laughter. The turn out tonight consists mostly of women, but you can detect a few men seated amongst the tables of tiny flickering candles in the darkness.

“Don’t laugh!” Emma pleads, playfully, and stops singing again. At this point she can’t stop from giggling either, and bends over to retrieve the phone that hasn’t stopped ringing. Apparently it’s her friend’s phone. “Andy, work’s calling. They really want to talk to you.” By now the laughter is unstoppable.

Emma has a very candid way of talking, that’s refreshing and disarmingly cute. She seems used to poking fun at herself in a good natured way. She’s the first to take the stage tonight, as part of a line up of 5 talented, female musicians. Unfortunately I don't get the chance to hear Heather Sita Black and Rae Spoon play. After her first song she tells us that her first set was supposed to make us “rowsy.”

“Rowsy?” she repeats, covering her face with her hand and laughing. “I was going to say rowdy, but I was thinking drowsy and that’s what came out,” she explains, matter-of-factly, smiling. Accompanied only by her guitar chords, Emma’s voice takes on lark-like capabilities, as well as deeper tones that resemble the pebbles brooding underneath a cool, clear mountain stream. Her lyrics are sad, thoughtful, playful and hauntingly true. Her song “Joy,” touches a chord. “The things you said the last time we spoke, make me want to light a matchstick, give it a little flick, and watch you and I go up in smoke.”

On her myspace page she describes her music as so sad its funny. In some cases this is definitely true. One of her new songs, which she is hesitant to play because she’s afraid the words will escape her, is a perfect example. She introduces the song by explaining that, “love is infinite,” stretching her arms. “But monogamy is limited, and limiting, and I’m limiting it. Right now.” One endearing quirk about Emma is that she often appears embarrassed with herself for being so forthcoming, but she always recovers quickly.

“Love doesn’t get lost, it gets recycled. It comes back as a paper plane, or a message in a bottle…What do they think love is anyway? Some magical syrup you pour on your pancakes?” By the end of her performance, Emma has certainly charmed me.

Next on the stage is a personal favourite of mine, Lisa Bozikovic, an alternative folk artist who seems as bonded to the red keyboard she plays as an additional appendage of her body.
Lisa's wearing a grey tank top with thick straps, a thin silver chain and jeans. Her smoky eyes almost match her short, auburn hair as she croons, “push it away, push it away”, her fingers flying over the keys fluidly. She tells the crowd that she thinks it’s incredible that an event like this runs every year, and goes on to say that, “It really sucks that NOW magazine didn’t think LadyFest was cool enough to write an article about.”

She plays three new songs that aren’t featured on her EP tonight, and each one accentuates the diversity of her voice. The first has a playfully light sound, and her face fills with emotion as she sings, “and its my heart you’re warming as the weather gets cold….and its not the end, it’s a space in between. It’s a place we’re going and a place we have been.” Lisa often has a look of utter contentment on her face while performing, as if while playing the keyboard, she’s home.

The next song is a departure from the slower, undulating sound of her other tracks. She introduces it by explaining, “I’ve never written anything this intense, so it’s kind of scary.” The notes seem to pound violently, like terrified running in the dark. The song has a dark, emotional horror-like feel, “take this love away, all at once.”

Her last song really showcases her vocal range, rising like the sound of tinkling crystal, and then dropping gracefully like warm, soft shadows breathing amongst the trees. Her voice takes on a surreal yet natural texture, cascading like water. Its painful and mysterious, but beautiful too.

The last artist I was able to witness perform was Dinah Thorpe, who integrated traditional instruments like the banjo and harmonica with electronic keyboard in a very interesting way. Tall, with short brown hair that flares out a bit, Dinah’s unique voice floats over the crowd as she turns her body to the beat.

She has a lingering, Celtic tinged sound, like wisps floating on the breeze. But her songs aren’t something you can brush aside, with bold, political lyrics to match her intense delivery. One song she claims to be sacrilegious mixes pulsing dance beats with church organ sounds. She repeats, “I’m tired of cars, I’m tired of cars…I’m tired of rock ‘n’ roll, I’m tired of rock ‘n’ roll… I’m tired of white men running things.” The fast pace of the song contrasts with her soft, explosive-laden voice.

Her final song, titled Jukebox religion has an in-your-face happy beat that makes me want to trip through empty school hallways and slide down railings for the rush. When she comes in with a fucking rad harmonica solo at the end of the song, my face transforms into a smile. This is what Ladyfest is about, I think.

Queen West Art Crawl in pictures

2008-09-20T22:54:00.001-07:00

Photographs complimentary of Claire

Learn to do the candycake corkscrew. Now doesnt that sound delicious?

2008-09-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

So I visited a stripclub for the fist time and I have to admit I have acquired a fascination with the sacredly sexy art of pole dancing. Something about all that twisting, turning, undulating, dipping and spreading unleashes some animal instinct, you know? Well that’s how I reacted when I witnessed the art form live. Only the stripper I saw was named Destiny and her outfit left a lot less to the imagination. Pole dancing also looks like damn good exercise, so why not give it a try? Below is a brief instructional video that gives you an idea about some of the signature moves. You may not be as toned as the blonde manipulating the pole, but pole dancing should be more about how you feel, especially if you’re not interested in entertaining a room full of men for money. If you are, then power to you and these moves will surely help you get an extra bill or two in your g-string. As much as I admire the women on the pole I doubt I’ll ever be up on a mirror-lined stage, doing the spread eagle. For now I’m content just to watch. Enjoy!