|Clarice of Cokke’s Lane, perhaps? This was
the art in our lovely room at the Rookery,
just going to show that we are not the
first to bring vice to London.
I know, I know, it’s about time! I have a good excuse: All Has Been Chaos. We’ve had to rather suddenly move the Center for Sex & Culture (we knew when we went to London that it was pending, but we had given two whole months’ notice, and by the time we returned the situation had changed and we needed to get out by the end of August. Much gnashing of teeth and schlepping of sex books ensued).
More on this and our future plans another time, because I want to get back to the Masturbate-a-Thon. But if you are in a position to help CSC in its hour of need, please visit the website and see where to send checks or donate via PayPal: and thank you a million for pitching in.
Oh, AND — I was also distracted by yet another Masturbate-a-Thon, this one in Washington, DC, held last weekend. Well, it’s only right: that’s where we send all our big wankers here in the US. Right?
Geez, that verges on the masturbation-negative. I take it back.
Anyway, more about that one to come. Also a Londoner’s Masturbate-a-Thon testimonial, posted here a bit later today!
But let me take you back in the distant past (well, in blog years it’s ancient, huh? I know, I’ll get the hang of timely reportage eventually): It was 5. August in Clerkenwell, the London district neighboring on our lovely hotel across from Smithfield Market, where our friend Clive has managed to sleep okay on the Rookery floor in spite of the fact that the nervous North African night clerk has called to snag the sofa cushions back. By noon that day, we had gotten our jetlagged asses over to Drop Studio and entered the altered state that was the world’s (to date) most successful Masturbate-a-Thon.
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