Cheering up Andrew on New Year's Eve

A New Year's Eve video feat. Andrew, who is sick and sad, and to whom I convince that doing laundry is exactly how we should be spending NYE.

MoSex and the City

When Thespian and I visited New York City earlier this month, I also finally got to check out the Museum of Sex on a solo adventure. It was late in the day and starting to drizzle; I was tired, hungry, thirsty and I had already spent too much time walking in circles and eating really good espresso stout chocolate in SoHo, took the subway to Brooklyn when I meant to head to Chelsea, marveled at the good nature of native New Yorkers all the while avoiding asking them for directions as they seemed to think I actually belonged there. Which I did. I just didn't actually know where there was.

So by the time I got to the Museum of Sex--or, MoSex--I had about an hour and a half before they closed. Considering the magnitude and scope of what was to, er, come, by way of exhibits, I decided a drink was imperative. And they just so happened to have a place in the basement called OralFix Aphrodisiac Bar, which was a modestly sexy if sparse sort of industrial dungeon--more Marquis de Sade than seductive. I ordered a "New Orleans Brothel" (whisky, brandy and bitters, with an absinthe rinse) from the two young men discussing the making of quiche (I love NY!) behind the counter. While two slightly inebriated women (I think it's fair to say "cougars" here--trust me on this one) loudly discussed what they hoped to find upstairs, I hurriedly downed my cocktail and ventured forth.

The museum is small but expansive, split between several rooms on three thematic floors (not including the basement bar). The first level seemed to cover the history of sex and the moving image, with many posted descriptions to read, photos to see and videos to gawk at. The second floor consisted of erotic comics and various sexual ephemera (mostly fetishistic, mixed media), which was a welcome respite after the interesting but didactic first floor. I really appreciated the layout and subject matter but it was actually a lot to, uh, take in. By the time I reached the top floor, I was exhausted again--and out of time. Which was a damn shame, because after "The Sex Lives of Animals" (blech!), I found the most fascinating exhibit of all: "Obscene Diary," a showcase of the meticulously self-documented sexual life of professor, erotic writer, pornographer, tattoo artist, mid-century gay-stud-about-town--and longtime Oakland resident! Holla!--Samuel Steward.

It was amazing to me the depth by which Steward recorded details of his erotic life (especially in that particular era), which became so beneficial to the sex research of Alfred Kinsey. Anyway, like I said, I ran out of time and the guard was kinda looking at me sideways so I had to go. But I'm definitely going to check out Samuel Steward a bit more by book and video...

Here's another snippet of this intriguing dude:

Empire State of Mind

"All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead." - the ever-so happy-go-lucky Samuel Beckett

Thespian also took random videos on his FlipCam, like when he was walking down the street or when we were getting ready to go see a Peter Brook-directed series of Samuel Beckett one-acts at the Baryshnikov Arts Center. And when we ate breakfast one morning in Central Park and listened to some dude on the saxophone playing "Careless Whisper." And the night I decided we should skip the crowds and check out Obama's Lighting of the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center way after it was lit.



And, of course, our closing shot...