SUPER EGOOh, Andy Warhol, your profile Polaroid is, like, 10 days old. We need immediate updation! Curious, though, how we seem to be moving away from digital club photography as mere virtual portraiture suitable for Facebook framing — and more toward an experimental hyperrealism that treats Clubland as a given medium. What better place to try out new effects than on the dance floor? Cabbage patch that F-stop! Here are three photogs who really caught my eye this year, and added a new dimension to club flash.
What the HTML will happen when "cloud computing" renders our desktop monoliths obsolete? I drool at the thought, while thoughts are still my own, of the coming retro fashion movement, enshrining the clumsy keyboards and monstrous monitors of yesteryear: boxy eggshell skirts, CPU tower heels, flat-screen kneepads, air can earrings, novelty glasses of scratched and sneezed-on anti-glare shields, flash drive panties, Ethernet cologne, USBriefs, "laptop ass," "modem face," brominated flame retardant blush, tantium base, phthalate plasticizer mascara ... Read more »
SUPER EGO A couple of Friday evenings ago, Hunky Beau and I went out on a bourgeois love date in SoMa. It was there that I was reminded that, along with loquats, plums, figs, and fat guys on the Internet pretending they're in armed militias, we are in the midst of bachelorette season. Children, be warned!Read more »
SUPER EGO Pride was huge and mostly cute, although I was bummed out by all the trash. (The litter, I mean.) I say next year everyone who goes has to prove their queer credentials by designing dazzling outfits recycled from castoff compostable cups, clove butts, loose boa feathers, meat-on-a-stick sticks, leftover rainbow Smirnoff wristbands, and broken drag newbie heels.
Stand and wobble with me, sustainable sisters of the night!Read more »
SUPER EGO Don't blame it on the rave. You may have heard about the tragic deaths of two men, ages 23 and 25, who overdosed on ecstasy during the humongous Etd.POP 2010 party at the Cow Palace over Memorial Day weekend. (Eight other people were hospitalized.) Now state Sen. Leland Yee and San Mateo County Supervisor Adrienne Tissier are calling for a ban on raves at the Cow Palace. Must this tired anti-rave misguidedness pop up again?Read more »
I may be at wit's end over the crude-stained feathers of everything else, but I'm more than OK with music so far in 2010. Sounds are stretching out, sonic categories are superimposing translucent wings, folks are taking chances for granted. For the past five years, the best DJs have been slowing down their sets, some to the point of blissful stasis — lightly back-pedaling in the midst of history's traffic. Read more »
SUPER EGO Look at this fucking nightlife column! It's the Guardian's Video issue, so I thought I'd roam into the upload zone — lubricate the Yubehole, VIP the Vimeo, Flip the embed — and click-up a wee rundown of club developments on the streaming front.Read more »
SUPER EGO And so, my queer peeps, we finally get an official "day" that won't automatically invoke thoughts of rainbow jock straps, hot pink pasties, inscrutable promotional booths, and Miller Lite sponsorships. I'm talking about the new Harvey Milk Day, May 22, which doesn't yet involve an Altoids float full of Gold's Gym refugees or a Virgin sweepstakes. But I'm sure we'll try our damnedest!Read more »
SUPER EGO Nightlife can be anything, that's the genius. It can be an early all-ages punk show at legendary co-op 924 Gilman Street (whose recent rent increase has put it in danger of closing — www.924gilman.org). It can be a rousing night of video games, fresh smoothies, and jocular camaraderie at sober safe-space Castro Country Club (also in danger of closing due to real estate shenanigans — www.castrocountryclub.org). Read more »
SUPER EGO "I was just in the bathroom splashing water on my knob," my excitable amigo Scottish Andy breathlessly dished at a mid-Market bathhouse-disco club last Saturday night. (You have to imagine this entire anecdote related in a hyper Scottish-Californian brogue. Like Highlander on poppers.) "And I heard someone majorly tooting in the stall. Snort. Snoooort. Like that. I thought, 'someone is really sniffing the fuck out of their baggie in there.' But then my friend came in and swung open the stall door and no one was in the stall.
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