
club carry is a new york-based nightlife collective built around queer, femme djs of color. club carry manifests chaotic, intentional, ecstatic, decadent, and consummately safe spaces around their music: the hardest, fastest, loudest, cuntiest techno iâve ever heard in north america. founded by dj antpuke, with a fluid roster of regulars including ariel zetina, memphy, dangerous rose, and sauscha, club carry stands alone and apart within the bottle service hellscape of new york nightlife. trans girls and boysâor, as antpuke ava calls them, âdolls and ken dollsââget in free. the girls who go all night, and most of them do, wear wrap-around shield shades in anticipation of the sunrise
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the fool, also known as the clown, is a touchstone of memes concerning the self-reflexivity of oneâs own silliness, or more likely her foolishness. no more: silliness is the highest form of morality. i was watching an episode of rupaulâs drag race: untucked recentlyâseason 2, which corresponds to rupaulâs drag race season 3, because the first season had no untuckedâand there was shangela: leering, musing whether or not sheâd been set up to be âthe foolâ in the wake of some foul play involving the construction of a gown made out of hair. there is valor in being deceived, shangela! there is even glamour in looking dumb. if youâre reading this youâre uncool: so why fake it?
i think this person is a film student? iâm not sure! but their videos scratch a very specific itch from a rash i caught years ago on ebaumsworld.com. vernonator6597 splices, scores, and edits abject flights of fancy starring your meme queen favs: wendy williams confronts a murderous tulpa of herself, opening an unclosable void! the riverdale girls dance-off to no music, only the cracking of their bones! lorde detonates a bomb from her phone during a âGENIUSâ interview! as they say: describing memes is like dancing about writing about architecture during a performance at MoMA PS1. vernonator, whoever you are, letâs make a movie someday
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the pines have a dubious reputation: a strip-of-a-strip of hamptons-adjacent driftwood crawling with rich white gay weekend warriors desperate to party and play among the islandâs native pines and its unethically-imported bamboos. this is not untrue! but i spent a month there this summer, and i found myself amused and even inspired by the pinesâ inherent theatricality. every single houseâfor better or for worseâis a stage set for someoneâs idea of gay heaven. the itinerary of every chosen fam on their weekend or week-long excursion comprises a script for a queer friend group at its absolute best: âwe cook! we swim in the ocean at night! we take ghb and 2cb! we smoke cigarettes and discuss auto-fiction! we fight about auto-fiction!â the pines are possibilities
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women watch each other; i watch my girlfriends, and iâm noticing a shift! the waning years of the trump era thrust usâthe ones who date men, anywayâinto serious relationships. we tweeted about our boyfriends and wore short dresses, espousing an ironic but undeniably effusive allegiance to some kind of nouveau #trad-itionalism. âfeministâ became a pejorative and we lost our shit when lana dropped ânorman fucking rockwell!â but now? everybodyâs breaking up and getting her own apartment! the girls are sleeping around and wearing interesting pants with the tabi boots they bought during the second term of the obama administration. theyâre speaking critically of âpornâ in hushed tones, or in lower-case letters on twitter. as a friend of mine recently muttered, eyebrow raised: âmaybe feminism made some pointsâ
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