When I first started reading fan fiction many years ago (invariably lesbian fan fiction), I mostly found stories at websites dedicated to a single TV series, either Xena: Warrior Princess or Star Trek: Voyager. Only a few sites I went to hosted fan fiction for multiple TV series; back then a group fanfic site might cover half a dozen TV series at most.

About a year ago I discovered FanFiction.net, an aggregator site for fan fiction sourced from TV, film, literature, comics, plays and anything else the community takes an interest in. I can lose hours browsing FanFiction.net. The site has many helpful filters, such as story language, length, genre and content ratings, to assist readers in finding the type of fan fiction she or he prefers.

I'm fascinated by many of the highly specialized fan fiction groups. For example, I was intrigued to discover a quantity of stories revolving around the Bert/Mary Poppins relationship in the movie Mary Poppins. It had never occurred to me that there was more to say on the subject. However, a glance at FanFiction.net shows that a number of dedicated movie watchers feel otherwise.

Over the years I've read volumes upon volumes upon tomes of fan fiction based on Xena and Voyager. Much of it is long, around the length of a short novel. The best of this longer fan fiction succeeds in creating a world or a universe in depth. Some examples of this type of writing from Xena uber fan fiction include In the Blood of the Greeks written by my friend MaryD, or Tiopa Ki Lakota, by D. Jordan Redhawk.

Nowadays, fan fiction writers and readers seem to prefer a very short fiction format. Perhaps it's not surprising since many forms of communication and creative work seem to be getting shorter. Today, fanfic writers jot down a few paragraphs and call it a story. There's more breadth in fan fiction today because writers can dash off a quick story based on one set of characters, then move on to the next fictional world that interests them.

Despite the breadth of material at FanFiction.net, it's still possible to find original material that has been overlooked by fan fiction writers. For example, earlier this year I went looking for Damages fan fiction and came up empty-handed. I was shocked, not only because Damages has such a dedicated audience, but because the love/hate relationship between Patty Hewes (Glenn Close) and Ellen Parsons (Rose Byrne) seems so ripe for slash fiction.

After many failed searches, I eventually found an example of Patty/Ellen femslash ("I've got Patty right where I want her"), but on a livejournal site, rather than at FanFiction.net. My time spent searching at FanFiction.net was not wasted, however. While I was browsing the "D" series at FanFiction.net, I happened to look over at the "F"s and discovered Fringe femslash.

Fringe is my favorite new show of last season, and I'm so happy it's going to have a season two. There are many things I love about it, like the fact that it runs with almost no ads; the character Walter Bishop, the LSD-loving mad scientist; out actor Jasika Nicole, who plays Astrid; and the fact that the most evil place in the universe, Walter's lab, is located at Harvard.

But of all the fringey things there are to gush over, the most wonderful is Anna Torv, who plays the show's lead character, Olivia Dunham. In the last year, Olivia and Torv have become very popular with the sapphic set. There's a certain brutality to Olivia's outlook that I think makes her appealing to dykes. She's a no-nonsense kind of gal, and we like that.

As the show has progressed, Olivia's toughness has been played up through a decidedly unfrilly wardrobe and increasingly intense action and fight scenes. There was also an episode where, through various plot contrivances, Olivia piggybacks onto a man's consciousness and in that state sleeps with a woman.

Olivia had a male romantic interest early in the show, but he was quickly dispensed with. Although Peter Bishop is the most obvious heterosexual object for Olivia, the show has kept her unattached. Instead, Olivia lives with her sister and her niece. However, if you watch the scenes between this little family carefully, you'll notice they play very well as scenes of same-sex domestic life. I know that sounds gross, but there's nothing sexual going on between the two sisters--it's just an undercurrent that makes Olivia's home life seem a bit more "alternative."

The fan fiction I came across at FanFiction.net explores Olivia's relationship with Nina Sharp (played by Blair Brown), an older woman working as Senior Vice President of Research and Development at the mysterious Massive Dynamic corporation. Like Patty Hewes on Damages, it's never entirely clear whether Nina Sharp is friend or foe. It's that tension between Nina and Olivia that serves up great material for fan fiction. That, and Nina's robotic hand.

"Fascination", written by Fembuck, examines Olivia's ambivalent feelings towards Nina and the corporation she governs. Olivia's anxieties are expressed through her response to Nina's prosthetic hand, which has been engineered by Massive Dynamic.

'Is it the hand?' Nina asked; her voice soft and curious as her eyes dropped to look at her fingers which were still resting lightly on Olivia’s arm.

The hand was a prosthetic, a very realistic looking, extremely sophisticated bio-organic prosthetic, but a prosthetic nonetheless. In one of their first meetings together Nina had removed the malleable, extremely convincing flesh covering and showed her the mechanics that lived underneath.

In the second installment of the story series, "Worry in the Morning," Olivia compulsively seeks out Nina once again, as she often does on the TV show. This time the results are more satisfactory for both parties.

Fringe is adding a new female character into the mix in the second season. Although I like the Nina/Olivia combination, Nina's presence on the show is sporadic. Whoever the new regular is, I hope she and Olivia have good chemistry.

Several weeks ago, the Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend and I went to see Pompeii and the Roman Villa: Art and Culture around the Bay of Naples at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

The experience of the exhibit reminded me of a house tour, since the art and culture on display came from villas, country homes of the rich and powerful. In some cases, the interior or exterior of the villa was itself transported or recreated as part of the display.

The first exhibit room was filled with busts and other carvings of Rome's ruling family, starting with Julius Caesar and continuing down through the Julio-Claudian dynastic line. I found it remarkable how easily identifiable the faces were from movies and television shows set in the ancient era. How else could the faces of these Roman royals appear so familiar?

Certainly it was my memories of I, Claudius that made a relief portrait of Tiberius and Livia together appear chilling. Then there was Nero, looking like an overfed, spoiled man-child, just as I imagined him to be. A sculptor had made Caligula's cruelty evident in a strange, downward quirk of the emperor's mouth.

In the next room, we were greeted by a beautiful statue of Aphrodite/Venus, shown here. The Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend and I naturally gravitated toward a large statue of Artemis, around whom other pairs of women museum-goers had gathered.

While the scale of the marble statues was impressive, I was dazzled by the many small bronze statues on display. I was unaware that such delicate bronzes were being created then. I also learned that the earliest examples of decorative glassware date from this period; several pieces were included in the exhibit.

Some objects on display were unusual but apparently typical. There were a number of bronze standing lamps in the shape of a standing human slave bearing a handheld lamp. Novelties, I suppose. Lava Lamps for the wealthy.

Also in the unusual objects category was a large marble sculpture that included the figure of a nude hermaphrodite. Depending on the viewing angle, the hermaphrodite might appear male, female, or intersex. The accompanying text stated that such sculptures were popular conversation pieces.

A life size model of a Pompeiian dining room, or triclinium, was featured in the exhibit. I was excited to walk around inside this close room with its three built-in couches. The idea of lounging around while eating grapes and so forth appeals to me. However, the Cute-Little-Red-Headed-Girlfriend finds the Roman practice of eating while reclining unhealthy.

The exhibit's final rooms documented the Pompeii mania that took over Europe after the first excavations of the area in the eighteenth century. After seeing Pompeii and the Roman Villa, I felt the city taking over my imagination, too. I'm now reading Mary Beard's The Fires of Vesuvius: Pompeii Lost and Found to satisfy my new interest.

As a random note, I've decided that one of my favorite words ever is Herculaneum. Say it with me a few times: Herculaneum. Herculaneum. Herculaneum.

My friend Joe recently turned 50, and he called me on Gizmo to discuss reaching this milestone. Our conversation is the basis for his most recent Bored Beyond Belief podcast, which he calls A Disgruntled 50 and a T. The T is me.

I think this is my favorite podcast that Joe and I have done together. You can't deny that we have a certain chemistry. If we weren't such flaming queers we would be good candidates for opposite-sex marriage. Joe and I cover a variety of topics, including Miss California and the Golden State's budget crisis. Since Joe is older now, I try to listen respectfully while he reminisces about living in California. I didn't have the heart to remind him that L.A. is Logan's Run territory and if he tried to celebrate his 50th birthday out here he'd be likely to disappear.

In between our discussion, Joe has edited in several appropriate musical interludes. You should listen just to hear Lorne Greene's rendition of "Ringo." You'll find the podcast here.

The Hammer Museum in Los Angeles has free admission on Thursdays, so The Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend and I took advantage of the policy to see their current Houseguest exhibition. "Houseguest" is a series of exhibits curated by artists. For this show, Los Angeles-based artist Francesca Gabbiani selected works from collections housed at UCLA.

I didn't know anything about Francesca Gabbiani beforehand, but I was attracted to the theme of the show: witchcraft and sorcery. The collection was immaculately arranged in a small room, giving the exhibit a jewel-like setting. The works Gabbiani collected suggested a dreamy meditation on the themes of witchcraft and sorcery. As a viewer, I felt I needed to let my mind wander in order to make associations between the images.

Some of the artworks were specifically about witches, such as the one shown below, but many were not. I noticed that several of the works with witches had a similar composition to the one reproduced here: a witch is placed prominently in the picture, surrounded by objects and scenes associated with witchcraft.

In this image, one can see human and animal skulls, vials and potions on the floor and on shelves, animals playing instruments and acting as if they were human, and a naked woman standing before a cauldron.

One of my favorite macabre details in the picture above is the skeletal hand sticking out from above the doorway in the top righthand side of the image. I was also intrigued by what appear to be chicken feet belonging to the badger-like creature sitting on a bench in the foreground.

Many of the artworks on display contained some form of bird imagery, such as a raven or an owl. I marveled at the persistent association of some natural objects with womanhood. My favorite image from the exhibit, for example, was a woodblock print, depicting the surface of the water far out at sea. All that could be seen were lines of waves: rough, mysterious, implacable.

Sometimes, when I am looking for a new book to read, I will head over to Project Gutenberg's author index, pick a letter at random, and browse. Sometimes I will run across an author I've been meaning to read, or a lesser known work by an author I enjoy.

Not too long ago I was browsing the letter W when I came across The House in Good Taste by Elsie de Wolfe. I was excited to find this work by the woman credited as the first interior designer in the U.S., and even more excited when I discovered that some of the ebook formats included the original book's black-and-white photos.

I loaded the Project Gutenberg ebook onto my Sony PRS-505 Reader and settled down to read. My expectation was that the prose would be whimsical and eccentric and I was not disappointed on that count. De Wolfe's 1913 text begins with a passionate endorsement of a burgeoning decorating spirit in the U.S.:

I know of nothing more significant than the awakening of men and women throughout our country to the desire to improve their houses. Call it what you will--awakening, development, American Renaissance--it is a most startling and promising condition of affairs.

I loved trying to imagine this time in history that de Wolfe was describing, when a wave of interest in interior design washes across America, bringing optimism to the land.

The House in Good Taste was intended to be used as a practical handbook, with its guiding principles being "Suitability, Simplicity and Proportion." De Wolfe uses her own grand living quarters as decorating examples throughout the book and frequently mentions--without explanation--a Miss Marbury, who shares her household. De Wolfe's biographers and society gossip columnists of the period identified Miss Elizabeth Marbury as the decorator's lesbian lover.

I often found myself persuaded by de Wolfe's strongly worded opinions on interior design. When I started the book, I held no real opinion about--to use one example--brass beds. But after reading de Wolfe's scathing remarks about brass bed frames ("For the last ten years there has been a dreadful epidemic of brass beds") I've reconsidered the matter and I agree with her they are, to borrow her words, vulgar and ostentatious.

But de Wolfe's dislike for brass beds is as nothing compared to her feelings for nineteenth century black walnut furniture, which she assures "will never be coveted by collectors, unless someone should build a museum for the freakish objects of home furnishing" and "will never be surpassed in ugliness and bad taste." After reading that, I had to go look up mid-Victorian black walnut furniture on eBay. It is incredibly hideous.

When it comes to thinks she likes, de Wolfe is big on the use of trellis work indoors. There is an entire chapter devoted to the subject, called "The Art of Trelliage." The photo reproduced below, taken from the ebook, shows de Wolfe's own "judicious use of trellis." It is an interior motif for which she became famous.

I've long had an attraction to conceptual art without fully understanding what it is that draws me to it. So when I saw that a local art gallery, Cardwell Jimmerson, was putting on a show called "San Diego and the Origins of Conceptual Art in California," I thought it would be a good opportunity to explore my reactions to this form of art.

According to the Tate Online Glossary, the term conceptual art "came into use in the late 1960s to describe a wide range of types of art that no longer took the form of a conventional art object." That broad definition encompasses happenings and other event-based works, installations and unconventional art objects.

Once inside Cardwell Jimmerson, the Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend and I found many types of art on display, including video, audio, photography and mixed media. I was drawn to the displays that combined words and imagery, such as "The Double Articulation of Disneyland," a combination of 36 captioned black-and-white photos documenting a trip to Disneyland, which were displayed along with 36 typescript pages of philosopher Louis Marin's essay "Disneyland: A Degenerate Utopia."

The photos show artist Fred Lonidier on a trip to Disneyland with friends. The focus of their trip was to document corporate presence at Disneyland and the ways that corporate messages were deployed throughout the attractions. For example, in the photo shown here of Main Street, U.S.A., the artist muses "Corporate possession of public myths must be natural to this public."

The Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend was interested in "North American Waitress" by Martha Rosler, from the "Know Your Servant Series #1." This work consisted of images of waitresses in typical uniforms along with printed instructions and training information on how waitresses should act. The photography in "North American Waitress" and "The Double Articulation of Disneyland" dated these pieces, yet the underlying "concept" of these works was remarkably relevant to the present.

Another work that seemed especially timely was Phel Steinmetz's "Oil, Profit, Control" from 1973. This hardbound book contained original photography of abandoned gas stations and related imagery from the 70s oil crisis, along with clippings documenting the oil companies' manipulation of the markets for their own profit.

Seeing this show made me realize that I like conceptual art that has a political aspect to it. The definition of conceptual art that I found at ArtLex emphasizes the political and especially noncommercial leanings of the movement: "Art that is intended to convey an idea or a concept to the perceiver, rejecting the creation or appreciation of a traditional art object such as a painting or a sculpture as a precious commodity."

However, resisting commercialism doesn't necessarily mean giving up on beauty, or on the art object itself. I was deeply impressed by the display of "Book of Lagoons," by ecological artists Helen and Newton Harrison. This awesome work on the life of lagoons represents to me what a concept or an idea looks like as a developed art form. You can find links to large .pdfs containing the complete "Book of Lagoons" here.

Via I Want Your Skull, I discovered Saul Hernandez's sculptures of death, showing the skeletal figure engaged in various pursuits: playing an instrument, enjoying a drink, taking a bath, having sex.

Over the last several years, Day of the Dead figures have become very common in Los Angeles. As part of entering the U.S. mainstream, there has been some change in the meaning of these statuettes. In L.A., their connection to Dia de los Muertos celebrations and their ritual function as reminders of death has been obscured in favor of more pop symbolism.

Although folklore traditions naturally change over time, I'm not entirely comfortable with the kitschy character of some pop Day of the Dead imagery. It feels as if these cultural artifacts have been drained of death, and what's left is just a visual joke, or a childish cartoon.

What I like about Saul Hernandez's sculptures of death is their soulful aspect. In the image of a skeleton playing a guitar shown here, you can see the fragility of life in the slumped shoulders and spine. Because of that, you can also see its opposite: the determination to live in the cocked angle of the knee and in the bowed skull, so deep in concentration.

This past weekend, the Cute-Little-Red-Headed-Girlfriend and I made the now annual trip to the Roxy in West Hollywood to see Lucy Lawless perform in concert. Owing to personal circumstances, we knew we could only attend one night. So we chose Saturday and decided to go all out: we wanted front row standing-room seats and we were ready to do whatever it took to get them.

What it took to get them turned out to be seven hours of waiting, including six hours baking in the sun on the utterly filthy yet justly legendary Sunset Strip. Once the Girlfriend and I realized we were engaged in an urban version of camping, we immediately became more comfortable with our situation, since camping is of course an in-born lesbian skill.

I spent my time on the Strip socializing and occasionally Twittering on my mobile phone. That morning, I had used Twitter to poll my fellow Lucy fans on what shoes I should wear to the concert. They voted for the glam-inspired silver-spray-painted Doc Martens, which can be seen resting on the pavement outside the Roxy in the photo below.

This year's Roxy show was to be different from prior years in that we were promised a stage show, rather than a musical concert. Pleasuredome is based on an unproduced musical co-written by Xena creator Rob Tapert. The script is set during the AIDS crisis and chronicles some of the highs and lows of that period. To create her stage show, Lucy developed a plot around one of the lesbian characters, named Sappho, contained within the original script.

As soon as we entered the Roxy, the Girlfriend and I rushed to take up standing positions in the front row, at the very edge of the stage. We then settled in to defend our territory until the show began. A mix of tunes consisting of 70s disco--the unofficial classic soundtrack of all gay pride events--with a few odd ball hits, like Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" thrown in, played over the sound system. The mood was joyous and inclusive, especially when Sister Sledge's "We Are Family" came on, resulting in a group sing-along.

As the waiting continued, the sing-alongs became more boisterous and maudlin, especially when Celine Dion's ballad, "Power of Love," played over the loudspeakers. Swaying in sync to the music, the mostly lesbian crowd screeched their way through lines such as "'Cause I am your lady / And you are my man / Whenever you reach for me / I'll do all that I can." There was a drunken-Girl-Scout-camp-counselor-type vibe in the air that I'm sure brought back positive memories for many on hand.

Call to confession. The evening began with a short but funny set by stand-up comic Cat Crimins, back for her third opener at the Roxy. Not too long after Cat left the stage, a stern nun by the name of Sister Mary Catherine, bearing a striking resemblance to Cat Crimins, appeared in order to deliver a message of penitence to the audience.

"Sinners!" Sister Mary Catherine called in greeting. Zeroing in on one female audience member, Sister Mary Catherine asked pointedly, "Do you have a boyfriend?" When the audience member answered that she did not, Sister Mary Catherine tried to impress upon the large crowd of women the urgent need to find boyfriends. The nun humor went over like gangbusters and everyone appreciated the nod to Lucy's role as the Mother Superior in the forthcoming film Bitch Slap.

Finally, the curtain rose on Pleasuredome with an exuberantly campy rendition of the Gloria, which gestured to the religious themes that would continue throughout the evening. It also held out to fans the promise of a reprise of Lucy's rendition of Patti Smith's "Gloria," which Lucy had previously debuted at her London concert. In addition to the band, three women dressed in religious robes were present on stage, forming a chorus.

Lucy appears on stage in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit that brought to mind the sexualized school girls of Yuri anime and manga. Her hair dressed in pigtails and swinging a school bag, Lucy launches into the show's first song, Queen's "Somebody to Love." Mixing heartbreaking earnestness with a determined naughtiness, Lucy's character Sappho sings of her desire for worldly experience and, especially, the tellingly gender-neutral "somebody" to love.

As Sappho imagines the somebody who awaits her, her fingers reach for her own nipple, only to stop short and pluck away the school cardigan instead, revealing a white blouse worn in a saucy halter style. (The outfit was actually not that risque, as Lucy was wearing a full bodysuit underneath the schoolgirl outfit, which allowed for a later costume change.) Next Sappho's hand creeps down and fastens itself between her legs.

Suddenly, Sister Mary Catherine walks on stage, calling out in dismay, "Sappho Warrior Princess! What would your parents think?" Sappho's adolescent swagger wilts in the face of religious authority, providing a launch point for the next song, Nina Simone's "Go to Hell." Sister Mary Catherine remains for the song and gets well into the spirit of the thing, busting out some dance moves and joining in for the recurrent damning choruses of "Hell!"

Despite the humorous references to the trappings of Catholicism, I found the underlying message concerning Sappho's conflicted feelings to be quite serious. Over the many years I've been out as a lesbian, I've met gay people from a variety of faiths who have been tormented by the threat of their religious sect's version of hell. I've met Mormons worried about Outer Darkness, Baptists and Pentecostals who have undergone exorcism, and still others who have submitted themselves to the ex-gay movement in an effort to avoid eternal flame.

Even more disturbing are the many secular gays and lesbians who have spoken to me of their fears. How, in the middle of the night, despite their education or modern outlook or secularism or other mitigating factors, they will waken and hear a voice in their head that says it's all true: that they will go to hell for their sexuality. My own life has been decisively and negatively impacted by the Catholic Church in ways that have left me feeling helpless, even though my own relationship to the church is to say the least tenuous. And so, the central conflict in Pleasuredome, however comically presented, struck me as an extremely relevant one to Lucy's lesbian following.

With hellfire at her back, Sappho is introduced to the discotheque known as "The Pleasuredome," where she will be sorely tempted by the figure of Gloria (interchangeably called Laura) bearing a platter of cocaine. Sappho wasn't the only one struggling with temptation. I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as Gloria emerged from the chorus, removed her robe and began to parade about the stage in electric blue hot pants and a flimsy halter. The other two singers, who had less developed roles, also removed their robes. One singer had such an ample and inviting bosom I found it necessary to discipline myself to not look at that corner of the stage unless she was singing solo, lest I become lost in reverie.

Laura "Needs Warning Label" Sperrazza. The Frankie Goes to Hollywood song "Welcome to the Pleasuredome" became the soundtrack for Sappho's dynamic seduction by Gloria/Laura. Now, I don't want to take anything away from Sperrazza's talent as a singer, or her considerable capabilities as a dancer, or for that matter, her acting prowess. But HOLY FUCK let's talk about this woman's body for a minute or three.

In this time of homogenized Hollywood breasts, Laura Sperrazza is indeed a potent reminder of just how much havoc one woman with a full A/small B cup can cause in a room. My best attempt to convey to you the effect Laura Sperrazza's body has is to say she is the kind of woman that might lead otherwise upstanding people to commit grave crimes.

I ran into several lesbian fans in the 24 hours after the Saturday show with a dazed and absent look in their eyes, like they'd been caught staring too long at the sun. A little probing on my part revealed they had simply been gazing at Laura's gyrating ass too long. Sadly, the essence of Laura Sperrazza is lost in photos. You really needed to be there to experience the fine crease of her hot pants, savor the plushy softness of her flesh, follow the bounce and sway of those little heart stickers on her nipples.

Sappho did not stand up long to the temptations offered by Gloria/Laura. A portion of the audience hooted and hollered with glee as Sappho bent to snort her first line of coke. Once the show was over, another portion of the audience claimed to be confused by many of the drug references in Pleasuredome. None of my jaded citydweller friends had any trouble deciphering the visual cues, which I found clever and concise.

The Big Plunge. The next songs in Pleasuredome revolved around Sappho's pursuit of Gloria and the establishment of their relationship. As Gloria/Laura exits the stage at the end of "Welcome to the Pleasuredome," an intrigued Sappho begins to sing the Eurythmics' "Who's That Girl?" This song, like almost all included in Pleasuredome, was a gay club hit in the early 80s. I remember this one well from when I first started whoring around going to lesbian and gay clubs in West Hollywood, back in the day.

Next came Cyndi Lauper's "She-Bop," re-imagined as a wild and raucous celebration of girl-on-girl sexuality. As she has occasionally done at previous concerts, Lucy changed the lyrics to suit her lesbian audience, switching out "blue boy magazine" for "blue girl magazine." Wearing a blindfold over her eyes in mockery of the blindness said to be caused by certain forms of sexuality, a toppish Sappho grabs hold of Gloria's hair and guides her in simulated oral sex.

Although the oral sex scene was sexy, it was also hilarious. I was struck by how Lucy is able to convey incredible sexiness and be extremely funny at the same time. Hers is the type of humor one can laugh out loud at, but somehow the laughter never defuses the sexuality present. It's a unique quality and I can't think of another female actor who can do that. The looks on Sappho's face as she was being serviced were priceless. From our position down front, it was like we were mainlining the juiciness of it all.

The chorus of "She-Bop" was punctuated by Sappho rhythmically spanking Gloria and, sexiest of all, several segments where Sappho played air guitar. I feel certain that when I get to dyke heaven, it will be filled with large panel screens playing a loop tape of Lucy Lawless on air guitar.

Then came Jet's "Be My Girl," in which Sappho woos and wins Gloria. By the end of the song, however, it is Gloria who appears the more dominant partner. In an intensity-filled segment, Sappho sits on her knees facing the audience while Gloria straddles her legs from behind, gripping Sappho's tie as if to rein her in while driving her with a riding crop as if in slow motion.

Some fans interpreted this scene as bondage or S&M. I took the meaning to be more psychological. But whether the pussy-whipping was literal or symbolic didn't really matter to the progression of the story. I enjoyed the ambiguity and multiple meanings inherent in the Pleasuredome staging generally. Whatever was lost in terms of narrative clarity only added to the interactivity of the theatrical performance.

Following the show, some fans complained about the content of this segment, calling it "pornographic." When I told the Cute-Little-Red-Headed-Girlfriend about these responses, she replied, "They obviously haven't seen very much pornography, have they?" I thought she made a very good point. However, Pleasuredome does display some of the in-your-face sex radicalism that I associate with queer politics during the AIDS crisis. That's certainly not a bad thing from my perspective (I'm a devotee of shock aesthetics), but it's to be expected that it will alienate some people.

As far as I know, there's only been one musical that documents the AIDS era: Rent, which has been marred by accusations of plagiarism, among other criticisms. In a note dated 2/5/09 on her Official Fan Club page, Lucy states her interest in developing Pleasuredome further. Whether the show is scaled up or is repeated in its current form, it's one I would be eager to revisit. I value in particular its representation of the sexual adventurism that many urban-dwelling lesbians embraced at the very moment that the gay male community was forced to give up more libertine sex practices. It's also an interesting addition to the various Catholic-specific political and cultural protests regarding the Church's position on sexual orientation.

The Naked Soul. Having found love, Sappho revisits the meaning of faith through the R.E.M. song "Losing My Religion." But the move away from faith also signals a descent of sorts. Stripped down to a flesh-toned body stocking and under the blare of a strobe light, Sappho sings "White Lines" while she and Gloria doodle on her body with white paint, symbolizing further drug exploration.

The song "White Lines" proved a good showcase for the band, led by musical director and Xena composer Joe LoDuca, who played guitar. My one regret from the evening was that I didn't spend more time watching the band. I was aware of their presence because they were responsible for the flow of the performance, weaving a rich, seamless sound experience that left me rapt for the entire night. Besides being a great rock band, there was also an additional element of orchestration that raised the collection of songs to a level that merited the term "rock opera."

My favorite song from the show, "Gloria," was next. I was eager to see Lucy perform it, but I didn't expected her to deliver it with as much power and conviction as she did that night. It began with Sappho attempting to wipe the white paint from her body, only to leave dark greasy smudges in their place. Sappho stands there nearly naked, singing her heart out, while covered in what looks like mud or shit. Meanwhile, Gloria/Laura takes up pom-poms for a frenetic dance that reinforced the incantatory and hypnotic aspects of the song. It was completely mad and over-the-top and I just loved it to pieces.

The relationship between Sappho and Gloria deteriorates and doubts emerge in the Heaven 17 song, "Temptation." A sense of escalating crisis culminates in Soft Cell's song "Tainted Love." Although this was intended to express a moment of sadness and betrayal in the show, my reaction was led off track owing to the fact that this song--along with Pete Shelley's gay anthem "Homosapien"--always fills me with an immediate desire to shed my clothes. The dark, sexy musical arrangement and Lucy's suggestive delivery didn't help matters. Nonetheless, it was an excellent song choice in terms of plot development.

Redemption through Love. Forgiveness is asked for and extended in the duet "Power of Love," movingly delivered by Lucy and Laura Sperrazza. The song, which melds religious and romantic imagery in its lyrics, concluded with a dramatic bent-back kiss between Sappho and Gloria. Lucy's fans drew on years of pent-up enthusiasm as they cheered the kiss; meanwhile, many miles away, back at Lesbian HQ, a well-manicured hand picked up a sharpened pencil and deftly marked off one item on the collective "100 Things to See Before I Die" list.

The show ended with Hoobastank's "The Reason," further underlining the redemptive power of love in the painful journey toward one's personal truths and the acknowledgement of imperfection. I was pleased the show ended on a happy note for Sappho and Gloria, rather than an endpoint of spiritual decadence or heartbreak. For me, Pleasuredome seemed to last only an instant, and it was a show I could go back to see again and again.

She knows what girls like, she knows what girls want. I don't know if Lucy worked with her regular costumer on Pleasuredome or not. I often think of her costumer as a kind of Evil Mad Costumer occupying a basement lab/design studio where he tests out his creations on a group of test lesbians, all hooked up to the female lubricant-measuring plethysmographs used in various half-baked sexology studies. "Let's see what happens when I add silver studs to these chaps!" he cries out, a peal of maniacal laughter filling the room.

Lucy's outfit for her encore followed the existing pattern of costumes tweaked to create maximum pain impact on her core audience. Amid thunderous applause, Lucy strode on stage wearing men's trousers reminiscent of Marlene Dietrich, thick black suspenders and a skin-baring racerback camisole tank. To quote lesbian blogger Dorothy Surrenders, who has copiously documented lesbians' love of the tank top in her recurring feature, "Tank Top Tuesday," "Any woman wearing a tank top and suspenders automatically goes to the front of the crush line." Lucy's arms and torso were still smudged with black and white goo left over from when she'd been wearing the bodysuit. Her dirty and disheveled appearance combined with the menswear gave Lucy an appealing E.M. Forster-era rough trade look that made me want to reach for my wallet. Finally, just to add that little something extra that makes you lose your mind, Lucy topped off the look by removing her shoes so we could all sigh over her distinctive and adorable toes.

One of the musicians held his hands over his ears to block out the din of the audience while Lucy urged the overexcited crowd to calm down. As the opening to the fan-favorite "Hallelujah" began, the audience quickly became silent. According to information posted on her official website, Lucy was influenced by the Jeff Buckley version of "Hallelujah." Before writing this report, I assembled all the lyrics to the Pleasuredome songs (which you can download from here) and read up on some of them, especially those with multiple popular recordings. The Wikipedia article on "Hallelujah" was quite informative, providing a link out to a BBC article noting the many Biblical references in the lyrics and quoting Jeff Buckley as saying his rendition was about "the hallelujah of the orgasm." With its mixture of religiosity and sexuality, "Hallelujah" extended the themes presented earlier in Pleasuredome.

The final song was the 80s hit, David Bowie's romantic "Let's Dance." With colored lights swirling across the stage and a ceiling-mounted snow machine dispensing fake snow, the room took on a party-like atmosphere as Lucy sang and thanked the Pleasuredome cast. An evening with Lucy is always marked by a sense of fun and playfulness and "Let's Dance" captured that carefree spirit the fans enjoy so much.

After Lucy ran off stage for the last time, slapping the front-row fans' raised hands as she exited, we unglued ourselves from our positions at the edge of the stage and drifted among the crowd. Inevitably, we ran into more people we knew. And so the evening continued for us, outside of the Roxy now, but still in the company of fans, with thoughts of Lucy vivid in our hearts and minds.

Special thanks go to several of my fan buddies, Janna, Kathy and Van Lord, who let me use their photography in this report. Photo credits are as follows, numbered from top to bottom as they appear in this post: nos. 6, 7, 11, 12, 13, 18, Janna; nos. 4, 10, 14, 15, 17, Kathy; nos. 5, 8, 9, 16, Van; nos. 1, 2, 3, 19, Teresa.

I've mentioned before my enthusiasm for Karmabanque Radio, a podcast conducted by my pals Max Keiser and Stacy Herbert. I'm thrilled to announce that Max and Stacy now have a new TV program on BBC World News called The Oracle.

On The Oracle, Max discusses current economic events with guests, while Stacy provides insights and presents statistical research to help frame the issues. In episode one, for instance, Stacy cites the "Cheech and Chong Index," which measures economic well-being based on the popularity of Cheech and Chong. At the end of each segment, Max calls upon the Oracle to help predict the answer to economic questions such as, "Are we in a recession or a depression?"

One of the ideas I liked from this first airing is the notion that low wages of U.S. workers helped create the current economic crisis. Richard Blustein, the alter ego of Yeast Radio's Madge Weinstein--another podcaster I love--also makes an appearance on the show. You can watch episode one of The Oracle in its entirety here.

This past weekend the Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend and I went to the Autry National Center for the American West to see the exhibit Bold Caballeros y Noble Banditas. I became interested in going to this show after seeing a painting of a gun-slinging woman, Adelita by George Yepes. The image is being used to promote the exhibit.

The theme of the exhibit was the tradition of virile heroes and heroines fighting for social justice in Latino and Latina culture. Drawing examples from the historical record as well as from popular culture and the imagination, the exhibition ranged from the Old West to the Mexican Revolution to Hollywood and the Mexican cinema.

As I've mentioned here before, the Autry Museum has an impressive collection of material artifacts from Hollywood cowboy movies and Western serials. Many such pieces were put to use in this bilingual exhibit, in effect shifting the focus towards American (rather than Mexican) and non-Hispanic (as opposed to Latino and Latina) contributions.

For example, while there was some interesting illustrated matter dating from the Mexican Revolution on display, the larger narrative of the exhibit emphasized the way Hollywood was inspired by revolutionary leaders and events. I would have rather seen more historical artifacts pertaining to Pancho Villa than see the costume worn by the actor playing Pancho Villa in a Hollywood production.

The section of the exhibit on outlaw champions of social justice in film contained a wall devoted to macha women in Mexican cinema. I especially enjoyed the material related to the life and career of movie star Maria Felix. Although the images and posters related to Zorro and other Hollywood creations were fun to look at, I felt the presentation willfully ignored Hollywood's history of racism in depicting Mexicans and Mexican-Americans.

Despite these reservations, I enjoyed the exhibit overall and am happy to see such cross-cultural, cross-border offerings. The theme of the show has special resonance now, when a Robin Hood or two would be most welcome.