Sometimes I take a few steps back from my life and try to examine it objectively. This was one of those times. DJing a yakuza-themed birthday party for an internationally recognized fetish photographer in a huge loft apartment in downtown Seattle, surrounded by artists, geeks, goths and fetishists? It's very strange, and very silly, and a little thrilling. I never take any of it seriously, because it's all so...something. This whole weekend just pounded it home. I get culture shock when I hang around 'normal' people now, which I'm sure happens to many folks who frequent E2. Not -because- of E2 particularly, but because this place is a mecca for the bizarre, the nerdy, the super-normal. Or maybe it's just that noders see the super in the normal. Maybe I'm rambling. I'm not sure if I should post this or not, really. But it is a good episode in my life, it is bizarre and funny and silly, and yes, maybe even interesting. On to the party.

Tonight was a birthday party for my friend Kevin Hundsnurscher, the aforementioned fetish photographer. The theme was Yakuza, and he admonished us to dress appropriately in the evite. Alex hosted the event, and the apartment was gorgeous. They hung huge caligraphic kanji on brown paper from the ceiling, and Noelle was our nearly-nude sushi platter, and most everyone dressed to the nines in gangster, geisha, or amorphously asian-fetish attire. I was asked to DJ ( and my broken TiBook and some freeware), which I did under the nerdtastic moniker of "DJ Boushh." Yes, I told the man who asked, I did know what 'bouche' meant in French. It's an appropriate nom de disc in any tongue, believe you me. I was wearing patent thigh-high platform boots, fencenet fishnets, black vinyl bodysuit with red piping and mandarin keyhole collar, red cincher, big hair with skull-adorned silk flowers, and lots of black eyeshadow and red lipstick. In the photos I look absolutely ghastly pale, which I approve of, but am a little surprised by. I'm always pale, but perhaps I haven't seen any honest photos of myself since winter and my hermitization started.

The most intriguing person there was a punky little asian fellow with blonde/black skunk-striped fauxhawk, traditional japanese sleeve tats, and get this, a big black eyepatch. The story was that he was a tattoo artist from Japan, born into one of the actual Yakuza families. It sounds like bullshit me, but I really want to believe it. Kevin swears it's true. The supposed Yakuza boy was extremely attractive, but his drunk friend was hitting on me and I was busy with the aforementioned phat beatz to investigate him further, anyway.

Kevin drank sake steadily throughout the night, but managed to hold his own until the very end. Rose, a designer and fetish model herself, administered the birthday spankings with a wooden spoon, while Kevin tied on his kamikaze headband and inquired if she could "hit any harder than that." She ended up breaking the spoon in half, and he didn't flinch the whole time. BALLS.

Notable costumes included my roomie Shannon's red/black latex geisha ensemble, which leans towards cyberkabuki in terms of aesthetic. I like it a great deal. Hey boyfriend Scot was looking extra sharp in a simple black suit, skinny tie, and black molded leather mask. Christy painted a gorgeous tiger-in-grass scene and some accompanying kanji on her beaux Thanos.

Picture URLs for copy/pasters:

    Vienna Le Rouge, the most talented and charming of Seattle's burlesque population. She moves like a river in stilettos. Backstage, we were getting dressed together:
    Vienna: "Damn it, these sequins are going to be falling off me all night."
    Me: "Ha, it'll be like Blade Runner."
    Vienna: "Yeah, each one has a tiny ID number engraved on it."
    Both in unison: "NOT FEESH!"
    Me: "Bulesque dansa!"
    * Vienna gets 45 points.

    From left: Vienna, Noelle and me, acting all serious and shit. (note the Boushh photo on the secondary monitor)

  3. (NWS)
    Noelle as delectable sushi platter. Note her graceful hand curving about her sake glass. And Kevin wouldn't let her up to go pee until all the sushi was served.

    The elite partygoers: everyone who showed up before 10, pretty much. Does this look like the box cover for an indie gangster movie to anyone else? "FETISH PHOTO JUNKIES," directed by some dude you've never heard of. Cameo by Christopher Walken.

    Totally soused, post-spanking, pre-cake Birthday Boy Kevin. Why did we hand him that knife? It was very Samurai Delicatessen in there for a few minutes. The lady in the background is his mom, by the by. She was this tiny little woman with an accent, who participated in eating sushi off Noelle like a champ.

    Noelle and Alex, looking outstanding and holding sake and what looks like a screwdriver, respectively. His coat wasn't that green in the real lighting; the flash is doing weird things to it.

    Alex came up with an ingenious method of body painting, and I'm about to ruin his secret. He's using a small opaque projector to beam a diagram onto the girls, which he then paints over. The result is a highly accurate, clean-looking kanji. This would work with any sort of body painting, I think. He painted on several girls and did an excellent job. I didn't have enough exposed skin to take one, unfortunately.

    Thanos' tiger. Really gorgeous work. It looked even better in person.

    "...and I forget the rest, but your mother's a whore."

    The very end of the night, after Kevin was finally overcome by the sake. Alex and I usher the Birthday Boy into sweet, pukey dreams. He was back on his feet (and his knees) by the next night, but that's another episode entirely.