Photo by rusty.grass via Flickr. SEX – I CAN'T FUCK YOU ALL
With that cocky paragraph title, will I be called the next Samantha Brick? I hope not, that shit was annoying.
I'm unsure if it's due to innate aspects of personality or related to my carefree upbringing, but I am very open about sex, and often wish the rest of the world would be too. I write about sex, I talk about sex, I have sex. However, my sexual candor has gotten me into some precarious situations. People mistake my sexual nature for a desire to have sex with them, or more accurately, somehow mistake my sexual openness with an expectation that I'll have sex with them. Not everyone of course, most people are far more awesome than we give them credit, and honest misunderstandings happen. Yet the other day, someone was trying to fuck me whom I did not want to sleep with, and he quoted things to me I had written in this column, as some sort of argument, a harsh rebuttal of my spurning. “Well, you wrote that you're into…..” Awesome, thanks for the pageviews. Now I'm writing that you can go to hell.
I want a samurai sword to chop away penises. I've invented a version in my brain of that game Fruit Ninja except it's me, a red-headed Beatrix Kiddo slicing peens flying at me. A reader requested an extra dirty column this week. Sorry, this is not that column. This is a reminder that “no” means “fuck off, bro.” And while I'm at it, I'm tired of hearing this “her words said no, but her body said yes” shit. Sometimes people flirt, sometimes people will even give you a kiss or drunkenly dance with you. I don't care if a girl has given you permission to fingerblast her or her pussy is in your face, if she says “this is as far as I want to go,” or “stop,” those words MUST be respected. If a girl is telling you “let's have sex,” or is physically sliding your penis inside her she probably wants to fuck you. If she is pushing you away from her and saying “No, I don't want this to happen,” she DOES NOT want to have sex with you. I realize it's hard to think with those things all armed and ready for battle, but please just fucking evolve.
It's quite simple. NO means NO, for everyone. And if I have to say it more than once, “NO” means “Fuck off, seriously or I am going to chop off your penis with my samurai sword.” You think I'm kidding about this samurai sword thing, but I have a tab open where I'm searching for one on Etsy right now.
DRUGS – BARBITURATES
“A prayer for the wild at heart that are kept in cages,” the subtitle of Tennessee William's Stairs to the Roof, are words that have always been dear to my heart, along with a special fondness for Tennessee himself. Beyond appreciation of his work, I feel some deep affection for the man I can't fully explain. Although it is believed that Tennessee choked to death, barbiturates were also found in the room, a drug he abused throughout his life along with alcohol and amphetamines.
Today barbiturates are rarely prescribed, replaced by their B brother benzodiazepines, which have a lower risk for overdose. Like benzos, they were prescribed largely as anti-anxiety and sleep medication. Common early brand names included Veronal and Luminal, or perhaps you have heard of Seconal. Particularly fascinating to me is the super short-acting Pentothal, known as “truth serum.” I'm often an open book, those close to me might prefer I was prescribed whatever the opposite of Pentothal is, but I am quite curious if it does, in fact, work. Bill, is that what you shot Beatrix Kiddo full of before she stopped your heart? Spoiler alert! But fuck you if you haven't seen Kill Bill yet, and for fuck's sake it's in the title.
By the 1960s scientists figured out barbiturates were pretty fucking dangerous. In 1965 the Drug Abuse Control Amendments were stamped into law, and then came the Comprehensive Drug Abuse Prevention and Control Act of 1970. All those fun drugs got a stamp of their own, the one that read, “warning,” but many of us see and read “fun.” Doctors tapered off prescribing them, although the drugs were still available on the streets through the 1980s.
Many, like my dear friend Tennessee have experienced the haunted merry-go-round of prescription drugs. The user, like Tennessee, truly does experience anxiety, depression, or other demons that lead to their prescription as an illness. However, the longer you're on the ride the faster you go until around and around and around and eventually the drug itself creates the same symptoms you started taking it for, and you need more, more, more, and the withdrawal process is more painful and difficult than what forced you on the ride on the first place.
ROCK 'N' ROLL - JAY ARNER
The segmentation of this column is so random, I’m always curious of the artist's reaction. I'm sorry Jay that you got chopped off penises and dead writers, I oh-so-much dig your songs!
Vancouver's Jay Arner has played the field musically. He fronted an indie rock band, bopped around in a pop duo, even made up one tentacle of an eight-member collective. If I had a turd of musical talent, I've always said I'd be a solo artist, since humans can be annoying and attention is fun, so maybe after dabbling in such numerous groups Jay was finally like, fuck it, I'm flying solo.
Jay bird shows off his wing span on his self-titled debut, from 70s punk to 80s synthy shit to my favorite pop track of the album, “Don't Remind Me,” which starts out with words we're all familiar with, “About last night…” sung with a wink and a hint of embarrassment.It feels like waking up on a Sunday morning with flashbacks of stupid yet awesome shit you did the night before and simultaneously laughing yet cringing at yourself. I don't think I would be in need of breaking out my samurai sword around Jay. We'd make out publicly and act like total fools but he would be respectful and put me in a cab home when I was like “Dude, you're awesome, but I've got to call it a night.”
The self-titled debut is out June 25th on Mint Records. Stream “Don't Remind Me” below.