I'm the Sr. Editor of an international gay party magazine. The death of my print model is bigger than the death of your print model. Aatom Smith hasn't been my real name for more than ten years.
I'm calling bullshit, the liquor thing totally works.
Try a try.
But did we ever figure out how much privacy we have on Twitter?
@either_ada This isn't a clean metaphor you're using. It's not a matter of safety in public, it's a matter of visibility. You can stay home if you wish to avoid the gaze of others, or find a private meeting space for a like-minded community. But you can't walk down a public street and get angry when people look at you.
Balk's cock is back.
On Meet The Awl
It's Awl good.
Say what you want, but if you lived at the Jamaica/Van Wyck stop in Queens for a year and a half 14 years ago, the E was the only thing that kept you sane. That baby packs serious heat once you get out of Manhattan, hurtling underneath Queens Blvd toward the ends of the Earth. Our illegal basement apt. was a complete shit-hole, often literally filling up with feces, but I knew the E train would get me to the city reliably and as quickly as possible. It even has its own unique rumble that far out. The E is cool by me.
Easy. Facebook = AOL.
Definitely also Prince.
I worked there as a secretary right up to the end, on THAT floor. It was truly bonkers. People carousing the halls drinking booze, stealing portraits. Very Lord of the Flies.