Cosmopolitan, after almost 50 years of being one of the most aggressively heteronormative women’s publications from newsstand to screen, has finally decided to throw the queers a bone — specifically, 28 (ways to) bone, if you wanna get punnily Cosmo-esque — by publishing its first ever lesbian sex guide.
The NSFW slideshow up at Cosmopolitan.com has been garnering praise from mainstream media. “Finally,” said Salon.com, “Cosmo is reaching out to lesbians.” “Hurrah,” cheered Huffington Post UK. The coverage has accompanied acknowledgement of Cosmo’s recent forays into broader LGBTQ editorial content, with pieces like “8 Things Not to Say to a Transgender Person,” “14 Things You Should Never Say to a Gay Man,” and (the extremely wonderful) “My Life as an Invisible Queer.”
With wide circulation of the lesbian sex guide, Cosmo continues to ride a PR high on its perceived social progressivism. The Hollywood Gossip trilled the slideshow “will receive no criticism from any sane male OR female.”
So now, here I am, an Allegedly Crazy Female Gay, arriving right on cue to crash this positivity party. Keep reading »
One of the first questions people usually ask upon meeting me is what I do for a living. When I respond casually that I’m a production assistant on queer porn, then the questions really get going. What does a porn PA do, exactly?
I’ll tell you one thing: much to my regret, I am not a fluffer. I know, I know, it’s a great tragedy for me, too.
I dreamed of working on a porn set from when I was a teen, thumbing through copies of Club Magazine and trolling various AOL cybersex forums. I dreamed of being on NoFauxxx or SuicideGirls, and got into erotic modeling intending to take it further. But life got in the way of my exhibitionist dreams, and I didn’t revisit my love for porn until I founded the Ladies High Tea and Pornography Society, a discussion, Sunday tea, and porn appreciation gathering I threw for a few years in London. When, at 27, I started performing in adult films, I never imagined I would one day be on the other side of the camera. Keep reading »
My first real game, the one I remember best, was Zork — good, old-fashioned white text on a black background. I was obsessed with it, the challenges intrinsic in playing it, and the mythology attached. I read the books that came with the series obsessively, and even did a school report (sadly not preserved for posterity) on the Underground Empire for a class in school. Infocom ruled my childhood, inspired my imagination, and got me interested in storytelling. Part of what I loved so much about Zork was the lack of a player description. You were an adventurer, and that was that: no gender, no race, none of that mattered. All that mattered was exploration, creativity, and a willingness to accept that sometimes, if you planned poorly, you’d be eaten by a grue. I didn’t even really think about my character, because it was just me, wandering through the map. There was no default. Keep reading »