18. jun. 2013

Delavnica Svetovi drugih na Mladih rimah

Zadnja delavnica v seriji mnogih, ki so od leta 2007 potekale pod naslovom Svetovi drugih - v angleščini In Other Wor(l)ds - je potekala 27. junija 2013 v okviru Mladih rim - 6. festivala mlade neuveljavljene poezije ter ostalih ustvarjalnosti s podnaslovom Nobenih problemov, samo običajno jebanje. Mlade rime šest in nočem domov.

Vabilo na delavnico je na dnu objave, najprej pa edina za splet prepisana zgodba izpred Menze. Avtoric ne navajam na njihovo željo.

Ljubljana 4000
Ljubljana 4000, poletno popoldne. Poskusi spreminjanja podnebja v tem mestu niso uspeli. Tako kot v 21. stoletju so bili dnevi oblačni, soparni in zadušljivi. Še govoreči kip na medplanetarni transportni postaji se je znojil.

Mašenka Tereškova je prispela s teletransportno kabino št. 5/208. Pot je bila kratka, a vseeno je bila utrujena. Od nenadnega premika iz Moskve v Ljubljano je imela pritisk v ušesih. Pogledala je skozi okno postaje in zagledala sivo bitje, ki je v pozi sključenega misleca negibno klečalo na nizkem podstavku z napisom »Vprašaj me karkoli«.

Mašenka je šla h kipu in rekla: »Lačna sem. Kje v tem mestu imajo najboljše piroške?«

Kip je komaj opazno premaknil svoje kamnite ustnice. Zaslišal se je votel glas: »Ljubljana 4000, tukaj ni pirošk, že zdavnaj so jih umaknili s tržišča. Poskusite hamburger. Konec.«

Mašenka se je namrdnila. »Prekleta globalizacija. Se res ne da nikjer več kupiti nečesa, kar ne bi bilo ameriško?«

»Ljubljana 4000, vse je ameriško, samo Rusija še vztraja pri nacionalni hrani,« je kip odvrnil z istim brezizraznim tonom. »Toda Lord Americco bo uredil tudi ta problem. Konec.«

»Ne bo mu uspelo,« je bojevito rekla Mašenka. »Lord Russo je morda manj mogočen od Americca, toda za svojo državo se bo podal v vojno, če bo treba. Ne bomo se amerikanizirali.«

Kip je to preprosto preslišal. »Ljubljana 4000, bi morda raje obiskali novo plažo? Konec.«

»Plaža sredi Ljubljane?« se je začudila Mašenka.

»O ja, po ukazu Lorda Americca so prejšnji teden postavili novo plažo z umetnim morjem. Cene zelo ugodne. Konec.«

»Se na umetni plaži lahko tudi najém?«

»Počakajte. Procesiram. Konec.«

Mašenka je zamahnila z roko in se razgledala po okolici. Kentucky Fried GMO-Chicken, McDonalds' Galatic … še zanikrni kiosk na njeni levi se je kitil z ameriško zastavico, na kateri je bilo od leta 3528 dalje 250 zvezdic, torej vsa pomembnejša mesta v osončju.

Mašenka se je zasmejala, se potrkala po svojem neprebojnem jopiču in se odpravila h kiosku. Imenoval se je Ajda. Edina jed na meniju je bil pomfri iz orjaškega sladkega krompirja. Krompirčki so v dolžino merili do 40 centimetrov. Ogledni izvod na pultu je spominjal na šop velikanski slamic za koktejle. Paličaste krompirčke je obkrožala solata v mavričnih odtenkih.

»Dan,« je Maša pozdravila prodajalko na rolerjih. »En pomfri, prosim. Brez solate.«

Prodajalka jo je začudeno pogledala. Njene oči so se zavrtele nazaj in Mašenki se je za hip zdelo, da je v njih videla dolarski znak.

»Ne bo šlo, solata je obvezna, izbrati morate vsaj eno.«

»Pa kaj še!«

»Žal, takšni so predpisi.«

Mašenka je tiho zaklela in naročila vijolično solato.

»Odlična izbira,« je zaklicala prodajalka, »vijola vas bo pomladila!«

»Še tega se mi manjka,« je prhnila Mašenka.

Plačala je čisto preveč denarja in na hitro zbasala vase ogabno ameriško hrano. Ni se več spomnila, zakaj je sploh prišla v Ljubljano. Stožilo se ji je po ruski svobodi.

Ulice so bile prazne. Očitno so se res vsi odpravili na novo plažo. Lord Americco je znal pritegniti ljudi. Z vsemi njegovimi pogruntavščinami sploh ni bilo čudno, da je postal tako vpliven. Toda Mašenka je dobro vedela, da se bo njihov vladar temu uprl. In na klic iz vojske je bila pripravljena. Borila se bo za svojo državo, do zmage.

V teletransportni kabini, ki jo je pripeljala nazaj v Moskvo, se je odločila. V peti svetovni vojni bo zmagala Rusija. Izdelki po svetu ne bodo več ameriški. Ruski bodo.

*


Delavnica skupinskega pisanja zgodb
Svetovi drugih 

Če misliš, da »ne znaš pisati«, »nimaš inspiracije« ali »zadostnih izkušenj«, te na delavnici čaka presenečenje: nadrealistična igra za skupinsko pisanje zgodb slastno trupelce bo pokopala vse tvoje zadržke. Kramp in lopato bo priskrbela Tea Hvala.

Vsakdo bo začel pisati svojo zgodbo in jo čez čas podal drugemu udeležencu. Ta jo bo prebral in nadaljeval po lastnem okusu. Zgodbe bodo krožile, dokler ne bomo vsi prispevali svoje pisave k vsem zgodbam. Če nas bo (na primer) šest, bo tako sočasno nastalo šest zgodb.

Delavnica se imenuje Svetovi drugih, ker je za skupinsko pisanje bolj kot tvoja nadarjenost ali izvirnost pomembno sodelovanje z ljudi, ki čutijo, razmišljajo in živijo drugače od tebe.

Udeležba brezplačna. Predhodne prijave sprejemamo na: mlada.menza@gmail.com [predmet: Svetovi drugih]
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Četrtek, 27. junij, od 16:00 do 19:00, Menza pri koritu, Ljubljana

Tea Hvala piše kratke zgodbe in eseje, bere feministično znanstveno fantastiko in v Ljubljani soorganizira festival Rdeče zore. Delavnice Svetovi drugih organizira od leta 2008.
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Organizacija: Kud Mreža in Menza pri koritu.

7. jun. 2013

Cassandra's Riddle at Art Porn Week in Berlin

Photo: Nada Žgank / memento


Performance
Clytemnestra: Cassandra's Riddle
at Art Porn Week in Berlin on Thursday, June 13 at 21:45
Mindpirates Vereinsheim in the Red Room (Schlesiche Strasse 38, Haus F, 3rd courtyard)

In Ancient Greek epics, Clytemnestra, the queen of Mycenae, was routinely portrayed as the jealous and destructive femme fatale who felt little remorse for killing her husband, Agamemnon, and the Trojan princess Cassandra, his war prize and mistress.

In Cassandra's Riddle, Clytemnestra retells the tale in her own words, focusing on her relationship with Cassandra. In their last encounter, the Trojan prophetess, activist and erotic explorer spoke to her about the aural potentials of female sexuality in mind-teasing riddles – riddles Clytemnestra needs your help solving.


Clytemnestra (Mycenae, Ancient Greece) is Tea Hvala's stage persona, inspired by Christa Wolf's Cassandra (1983) and Marijs Boulogne's question, posed at the Tiny Buttons workshop, ran by Antonia Baehr and Keren Ida Nathan in Ljubljana in 2011. Since then, Tea has developed a few tiny amateur performances that focus on female masculinity and bikesexuality. She occasionally performs with the Rdeče zore (Red Dawns) impro theater group from Ljubljana.

Oddaja Sektor Ž: Queeristan, Seksizem med nami in Lean-In

Ekipa Sektorja Ž se je v preteklem mesecu udeležila dveh odličnih festivalov. Najprej bomo s Teo Hvala obiskale festival Queeristan in queerovski protest proti kriminalizaciji ljudi brez dokumentov v Amsterdamu. Teja Oblak se je udeležila debate in delavnice samo za ženske Seksizem med nami na Balkanskem anarhističnem sejmu knjig. Ida Hiršenfelder pa bo predelala pdf strani v knjigi Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead avtorice Sheryl Sandberg.

Report from Amsterdam's Queeristan festival and the Breaking Borders! protest on June 2nd with interviews and sounds by Rhythms of Resistance and Malmö's Fucked Up Kueers; followed by Teja Oblak's report from the discussion and workshop Sexism Among Us at Ljubljana's Anarchist Book Fair 2013 and Ida Hiršenfelder's review of Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead. The show is in Slovene with interviews in English.

Sobota, 8. junij ob 12.00 na Radiu Študent. Posnetek oddaje bo naknadno objavljen tukaj.
Saturday, June 8th at 12.00 at Radio Študent. You can listen to the show here.

6. jun. 2013

Collectively written erotic stories from Queeristan

All photos by YY

On June 1st, the 4th Queeristan festival in Amsterdam hosted my workshop in collective writing of porn, co-organized and co-facilitated by Bibliotheque Erotique's very own Lilly Miao. At the workshop, attended by twenty wonderfully relaxed people, we started by introducing ourselves with our porn name (invented at the spot), accompanied by a gesture and a sound that goes along with it. 

Olive, do you want to grease me? 
Yes, please. Blind-folded, on a trampoline with tarantulas crawling on my back and you biting my neck.

We continued by playing Definitions (or Question and Answer), a Surrealist game played in pairs, in which a question is written down and the paper is folded to conceal it from the next player who writes an answer. 

Do you think politics are sexy? 
Yes, nearly every day.

When will you be ready for the sexual riot against the government?
With full moon on a hot summer night, feeling turned upside down.

That is how we prepared for the climax: the collective writing of gender- and genre-fucking stories of our own. Again, we relied on Surrealist writing exercises; this time on Exquisite Corpse, a game for groups of four or five people in which each participant begins by writing her own story. Ten minutes later, he passes the piece to the next person. After reading it (or not), ze continues where the other person has stopped. The workshop is finished when everyone has written a part of every story.

Which place would you use for an erotic story to get an atmosphere that arouses you?
The experience was more intellectual-political than sexual, but it made me question sexuality in a different way.

The workshop ended with a reading and lots of hugs! Below, you can read some of our mistress-pieces. Check Bibliotheque Erotique's FB album for more photos, taken by YY. More stories are going to be published here and on Bibliotheque Erotique's webpage once we transcribe them. So, this is how we did it together ...


Question and Answer

How was it yesterday night?
Yes! I was drunk!

Tell me a fantasy that makes you feel guilty.
Spank me. Harder now.

If we were lovers, would you join me and my friends in a sexual private exploration?
Yes, definitely yes, would love to.

Do you remember how the first porn you watched made you feel?
For me, it’s arousing to sense the smell and sounds and touch of a person (in a situation with an erotic tension).

Describe the appearance of a person or object you fantasize about.
A woman making eyes at me across the room, we arrange to meet at midnight on a canal. I fuck her with my hand, we finish, we both walk away without speaking.

Did you ever have an erotic fantasy with your mother?
If I ever have a penis, I will explore all kinds of territories that I can’t explore now.

How would you like to have a sexy dinner with me?
With my tongue.

If I were an orange, how would you like to eat me?
Standing in front of a church, clearly using protection to make it safe.

What kind of food would you be for your lover or someone who you would like to eat?
Yes, of course. Several times, especially on public holidays and my birthday.

What has been your most surprising sexual experience?
I’d like to play with them while they play cello in an empty auditorium.

Which colour do your latest lovers tend to wear most?
I would like to try them all.

What was the best sex you ever had?
I would go for mellow mostly, aggressive occasionally.

What is your secret fantasy, if you know it?
Yes, please, take me to your secret garden and show me your flowers of passion.

Would you get naked on the street in front of everyone? What would you tell the people around you?
It was on the train, we both got naked and just stared at each other for an hour without touching while all other passengers were masturbating.

Do you belong to any religion? Do your sexual and spiritual practices intersect?
Because I like to sell myself.

Why did you become interested in spirituality and sex?
Because I want to push it further.

Where would you like to be touched?
In a mountain shelter, during a cold night.

Would you like to come with me to a waterfall to become wet in two seconds?
Yes, slowly, slowly, like a lazy snake on a hot summer day.

Where do you want me to start touching you?
In an old theatre, we are naked, reading for each other.

What kind of role playing games would you like to play?
Long black smooth hair, elf ears, and lips thirsty for kisses.



Exquisite Corpse

At the market - I

You were strolling around in your boots – it was midday and the sun was bright – and you stepped in front of me. I was standing behind my market stand with fruits and I was getting nervous. You looked right into my eyes and asked for a pound of strawberries.

“Why always strawberries,” I asked, “don't you wanna try mango?”

“Oh, mango, yeah, I like mango! My boyfriend actually named me Mango.”

Yellow skinned, sweet sometimes, stingy on the tongue, the taste hard core deep … Mango!

At this point, I thought: How should I eat the mango? By peeling off the skin of the fruit or by cutting through the flesh, to the cone, bit by bit?

“Hmmm, mango – yes please, a mango," I cried out loud and joined him behind the stand. I was holding that juicy fruit firmly in my hand.

“Can you cut it for me? I need to taste it badly.”

He took a knife, made a slit all around the mango, handling the fruit with the utmost care. Then his fingers pressed the two halves in their tight grip, stretching the slit open to uncover the hard pit. He discarded it. As he was handing me the cut fruit, his fingers were drenched in fresh sticky mango juice.

For a brief moment, our hands touched. We looked at each others eyes deeply – and kissed.

Fuck the mango!

That kiss was like dope. I couldn't think anymore. We were both hard and turned on. We were both lost in our intimacy, there was nothing else anymore around. He pulled my pants off and started touching me. With my boot, I pushed him to the market stand, took his pants off and fucked him.

It was intense, people were shocked and stunned, and they stopped moving. The atmosphere was super-sexual; it was like we had spread a sexual magic powder in the air. After a few minutes, the whole market turned into an orgy market!

























At the market - II
It is a rainy day in 2030, and I mean a rainy day. There is an open street market in the center of Amsterdam. The fish seller will usually stand at one of the river banks, with his collection of fish – especially on a rainy day. He will walk with his smelly fishy boots to welcome his customers.

All the fish are naked. I mean skin open naked, stretched on a 2030’s display table. They are in plates that look like Italian fish beds.

I ask for a pinkrosebudfish.

“Look how fresh it is, it just came out of the gen-tech facilities,” he says.

He takes his sharp knife and makes a quick incision along the fish belly which blossoms, revealing its fuchsia interiors.

I am wet.

He offers me a piece of that raw flesh and I immediately grab it and put it in my mouth. I close my eyes while chewing, and visualise the perfect dinner that fish could make; the herbs, the temperature, the wine. I open my eyes and glaze him so hard that even the dead fish feel the tension.

Was it a dream? I saw the fish jumping onto each other. Or were they dancing?

Suddenly, I saw myself lying under the fish, wearing nothing but my body skin, and the market person moving the fish up and down, from head to toe, over my body again and again.

This time, it felt so intense that I shouted out loud: “WAAAAW!”

Or was it just a dream?




At the market - III
It was the afternoon of May 2nd, a warm day at the street market. I wanted to make Gemsta: stuffed tomatoes and peppers with rice, baked in the oven. I was looking for big green peppers and juicy red tomatoes. The smell of the spices and the fruits in combination with the sweat of the people made the atmosphere at the market very attractive.

I felt myself almost fainting, and my knees got weak. I almost fell.

Two hands held me tight but very gently from behind to break my fall and I heard your voice saying: “Hoppla, are you okay?”

I turned around and saw you looking at me; and actually, then I really wanted to faint. Your lips were smiling and I wanted to get kissed all over; I wanted to get sucked into your mouth. I forgot all about my cooking plans.

Your mouth today, with hot-red lipstick, not my favorite color, but it is watery as usual. I want to suck those full-fat meat lips like I sucked your other two lips a while ago. What did they taste like? I forgot. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I will explore them again.

A fresh taste, today, here, at the market, in front of strangers passing by. Let me get wild with these lips; forget about the peppers, these hot-red peppers are never going to be on my plate again. I will put you on my main course tonight.

My daydreaming was making me lose control. I felt my body was shape-shifting right there in the middle of the market. My limbs now exposed were curling into new textures, and acquiring a taste of their own. They now were standing there as plump juicy tomatoes and heaps of fragrant red peppers.

Passers-by got all curious and excited by my transformation. Hands were touching my vegetable skin. Noses smelt my tangy perfume. Fingers were pressing my juices.

Good money was spent to buy me, piece by piece.

Once dropped off, I will end up carefully heated, smothered and greased, and tasted by the lusty velvet of your lips.


At the bike shop - I
Masha, the former bike race champion from Ostblok, entered the bike repair shop on Queeristan Street. It was to be her first day at work there, and it didn’t look good: the shop seemed abandoned and dusty. Moreover, there were pictures of current bike champions on the walls.

She heard noises in the back of the shop. She followed them and found what she was always looking for: Boris’s dog! Since she always wanted to be in one of Boris’s sexual fantasies, she decided to return at midnight wearing nothing but what she was born in! And she did.

When she came back at night, she noticed that she was not alone. Boris was at the shop as well. He did not notice Masha because he was too busy. Not for nothing he has a dog with such a big cock. He was obviously using it intensely in his everyday practice. They were intensely busy with a blow job in a 69 pose.

Masha was upset. There was no place for her in this setting.

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” a harsh voice interrupted her observations.

“I, i, i ... I’m sorry, I returned to fuck Boris’s dog but I see they are busy.”

“Oh, I see, maybe I can help you,” the person grabbed Masha’s hand. “Will you follow me?”

“Ok.”

They entered a room that was totally dark and smelled of animals.

“Let me introduce you to ... FickFackFuck – my horse. Do you like him?”

Masha did not answer. She immediately went to the wooden construction and bent over.


At the bike shop - II
I open the doors of FickFackFucks Bike Repair Shop and I am already trembling with excitement. The thought of FFF biting my neck makes me wet in three seconds. I let my finger slip in my slit to feel my wetness.

“Hello Masha, what are you doing? How are you? Great to see you,” FFF says, unzipping her greasy jacket.

“Huh!”

“So it is!” says FFF and slides her dirty black fingers into Masha’s pants.

Masha leans back on the front tire of a bike in repair, standing upside down. That is, the bike is upside down. She grabs the handles and starts to grind against the bike wheel that sinks in her butt crack while FFF’s fingers’ reach her from the front, creating an alchemic mix of grease and juice.

In the meantime, Boris was jaggin’ wildly around the corner. Not just jaggin’, but what is called French Jagging. The wet nose of his dog with a big cock was just next to his dick, which was about to explode. Moreover, the dog obviously came there by bike, which was broken and still had to be fixed.

But more about that in Part II.

Please, get back to us soon. We love U.


At the bike shop - III
It was a cold winter night in Slovakia. Masha was reaching her highest point of dissatisfaction and desperation in her sexuality while Fick Fack Fook was fickfackfooking Chache wildly, untimely.

As Boris was filming the beautiful mass, he found a way to help Masha.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Boris asked Masha.

“So sweet. What do you want back for it?”

“Help me to get satisfaction,” Boris said.

“Can I help you?”Masha asked and turned red.

“No, I totally don’t want you,” answered Boris.

“You know,” said Masha, “I have a solution. In our writing group, there is someone called Arabic Boy. He would definitely be happy to help you. I will go and get him.”

In a minute, Arabic Boy appeared and did his classic hip movement. This time, Boris turned red but there was no way back.

“Are you looking for satisfaction, Boris?” said Arabic Boy.

He came closer without touching Boris. Then, he sat down behind him and whispered in his ear:

“What does satisfaction mean to you?”

As Arabic Boy breathed in his neck, Boris felt goose bumps spread all over his body.

Masha was filming them. She didn’t have a microphone, so FFF provided the soundtrack with his “Ooohs” and “Aaaahs”.

Arabic Boy and Boris got tangled and tangled more, and when they screamed in satisfaction, Masha knew that – at least for them – the cold winter was over.

The film screening at Queeristan Film Festival 2050 was a success. The audience was hot, wet and loud.


At the bike shop - IV
It is the first wonderful summer day, and there are lots of visitors at the bike shop. It is Saturday and everyone wants to go cycling. A long line forms in front of the shop while Mozart’s music is heard from the inside.

It is very hot and people are getting irritated.

The guy who works at the shop goes to the toilet and doesn’t come back.

Someone claims s*he has to skip the line. S*he has to bring some new tubes and chains to the shop owner.

“All right, all right, go on.”

“Thank you,” says s*he and enters a room at the back of the store.

“Hey Boris, I got you some new tubes and chains.”

“Hey Chachi, that’s great, just leave them there, I’m busy now.”

But s*he does not leave the room.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” says Boris.

“I wanted to get your attention for a minute. Look at me.”

Boris puts down his tools and his eyes meet Chachi’s. Only then, he notices the metallic sparkles in her_his eyes, flying in his direction with the speed of a 3-gear bike. He is pulled towards the visitor and finds himself on his knees, licking the wet tubes in Chachi’s strong hands.

He is entranced. When he opens his eyes, he notices the customers. They have entered the shop and formed a circle around them. They touch themselves and moan loudly while Mozart’s music disappears in the background.

You might think this is the end of the story – but not yet!

Everyone was very patient. It was going in the direction nobody would expect. Fireworks everywhere, everyone was taking part in this Shortbus! A drop of Eternity!

The end (that would always continue)!