Rowland S Howard

Woke up. Went to make of what’s left of the Christmas flavored coffee. Go over to the desk to check the email, then hit Facebook to check any additional messages. Found out about this:

It’s one thing to hear about Michael Jackson, but its another to hear about a musician that you’ve actually liked. Rowland recently passed away from cancer at the age of 50.

During my mid-late teen years I was heavy into the whole Goth/Death Rock subculture. Back in the days of vinyl, I had records from Birthday Party, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Lydia Lunch. These folks that I’ve just mentioned had a connection to guitarist Rowland S. Howard.

Roland is more well known for his time with The Birthday Party. That was Nick Cave’s band before he formed more popular Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. Later he did a series of collaborations with various acts, such as Lydia Lunch, Fad Gadget, Nikki Sudden, Henry Rollins, Einstürzende Neubauten, the list goes on.

Here’s a Wikipedia entry about him:

I could post a video of him performing with Lydia Lunch, but I thought this was more suitable:


Past From The Blast

Everyone knows Simple Minds as that 1980s Alt band who did that song “Don’t You Forget About Me.” Yeah, the famous theme song from that seminal teen flick from the Reagan era “The Breakfast Club.” Now don’t get me wrong…both the song and the movie were okay. My fave character from that club was Ally Sheedy’s character, the sulky Allison Reynolds. Probably because I had liked her messy hair and brooding demeanor.

Anyhow, I didn’t come here to talk about the film. Prior to Simple Minds becoming a huge 80s rock/pop outfit, they actually put out some decent albums.  One song I’ve particularly loved was “Travel” from the 1980 release “Empires and Dance.”

With Simple Minds’ third album release, “Empires and Dance” mixed the post-punk/art rock atmospheric guitar effects with dark dance beats.  Hints of slight 1980 European political overtones blended right into the slightly Roxy Music influenced sound. The Scottish based Simple Minds continued to fine tune their own sound until the massive bubblegum hit exploded in the US. By the time “Alive and Kicking” was released, the band briefly transformed into US arena rock darlings.

For sometime I’ve been trying to find that particular early Simple Minds song as an MP3. Imagine my surprise when “Travel” appeared out of nowhere during my search for another song; “Being Boiled” by The Human League.

Proof that there is a god, and it comes in the form of YouTube. Dig hard enough, and you will find. Here I found a UK television appearance promoting this single. Since mercury is presently in retrograde, this blast from the past is fitting. Or shall I say a past from the blast?

IF-X # 4, The Social Intercourse Issue

Just wanted everyone to know I did the cover for the latest issue of IF-X. IF-X is a themematic issue, and this particular subject is social interaction, or rather, social intercourse. Here’s the cover:

You can order your own copy here:

2009: The Year Of The Celebrity Deathmatch…

An iv17 Sol 6° Capricorn, Luna 18° Taurus Dies Solis
Sunday, December 27, 2009 e.v. 11:21 PM

As I typed this originally last week, it was Yuletime. Winter Solstice passed, Hanukkah passed, Christmas just ended. Then there’s Festivus, etc. Tons of holidays to choose from, take your pick. The year of celebrity death match is almost over.

I, for one is glad that 2009 is coming to a close. It had its ups and downs. I won’t even get into the subject about celebrity deaths. The start of 2009 certainly sucked for me. On December 30th, 2008, I threw out my back. I spent New Year’s Eve hobbling with a cane to the local bar because I just *had* to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Good thing I didn’t go with my original plans. Spent an hour in pain and headed back to bed, where I spent the next three-fours months. Pouted, cursed my fate, read, sketched. Hung around Facebook like a high school student playing hooky in the cafeteria. When I was bored with that, I caught up on DVDs and bad television. Along the way, discovered once again who my real friends were. Lost my faith in humanity for the hundredth time; but then again, I didn’t have much faith to begin with. (shrugs)

Eh, what can you do? I did manage to make it to the NYCC in one piece (New York Comic Con) limping in style with a rhinestone studded cane.

Could be worst; I could’ve been a dead celebrity.
(I’m not even go into the whole Michael Jackson death fiasco. He’s dead, get over it. Of course the media was over-reacting per usual, as if it was the second coming of Christ. Let him rot.)

Come around June, things turned around more positively. Got some web press, interviews and mentions on blogs. Had my illustrations shown on a writer’s blog. Worked on a webcomic and had my first cover art published. Released another self-published title, Babalon Babes no. 4 (the Astrology issue.)

Even so, so glad this year is almost over. Kinda glad this decade is almost over. The past ten years have been shitty, to say the least. Barely hitting two years into the decade, and Y2K led straight into 9/11. Bleh. Not that I didn’t feel for the victims of that disaster…ah forget it, I won’t get all political here. Just embarrassed as an American to be stuck with the worst President in US History. Bush with his big old monkey ears and clueless smile. A decade of reality TV, bad Emo, Hip-Hop, and pop music, global warming, blah, blah, blah. Having to lived in a decade where people slowly became more shallow, more cold, more heartless, with no sense of loyalty. Oh wait, maybe people were like that all along, only I just woke up from my naive daydreams into a living nightmare. Now how’s that for being over-dramatic?

On the plus side, there was the internet, iPods, the return of comfortable Converse sneakers…

Anyway, time for some self-promoting plugs…

Babalon Babes # 4, The Astrology Issue is now on sale.
Available through WitchesBrewPress, you can order via PayPal.
Send $4.00 ($3.00 plus $1.00 for shipping & handling) to
When ordering, please state you would like BB#4.

Also, Psycho Bunny issue 3 (Special double issue) is still available.
Again, you can order via PayPal, $6.00 ($5.00 + $1.00 S&H) and state you would like PB#3.
(If ordering both issues, shipping is just $1.00)

Shitty Mickey

Also, don’t forget the webcomic,! Written by John Reed and drawn by yours truly.

Happy Holidays everyone.

The Cab The Color Of Piss…

“Taxi! Taxi!
Lady cab driver — Can U take me 4 a ride?
Don’t know where I’m goin’ ‘cuz I don’t know where I’ve been
So just put your foot on the gas — let’s drive”
– Lady Cab Driver, 1984 song by Prince.

Ah, New York City. Sweet, sweet New York City. Here in the big, bad rotten apple we are surrounded by multicultural smorgasbord of art, film, theater, music, fashion, food…and douchebags who have the nerve to call themselves yellow taxi cab drivers.

yellow cab accident oct. 2009

Hey, first of all, I understand that the task of driving a cab is rather thankless and rough. As a livery person, you gotta deal with obnoxious drunks, bad tippers and overall rudeness. It could even be dangerous, for the next passenger might even have a gun hidden in his pocket. Next thing you know, the cab driver’s brains have spilled all over behind the steering wheel.

Some cab drivers are basically making ends meet until their next big break, a la like that 70s TV show ‘Taxi.’ Your next cabbie could be a struggling actor, artist, writer, musician, or even going for his/her PhD. Some cabbies have even been considered “heroes” helping delivering babies from the back seat, or saving passengers from a certain fate…

I have yet to meet cab drivers who possess some of the above mentioned qualities.

Perhaps its my “karma” or “cause and effect”…but I’ve had some pretty lousy experiences with the yellow cab world. Sure, I’ve met some really nice cabbies. I wish I could meet more. For example, I had a cab driver rush me home so I could pick up my tickets and arrive on time to catch Throbbing Gristle in concert. (Throbbing Gristle was touring through the US at the time, Spring 2009) Unfortunately in my case, the cons have outweighed the pros.

Since I’ve shared one positive cab experience with you, allow me to share some negative ones. Besides the ones who chat on their cell all damn day while missing your exit. Besides the ones who don’t carry a GPS device in their vehicles. Besides the ones who try to be slick, asking where you’re going before you get into the car. Besides the ones who pretend they don’t know where they’re going, raising the fare in the meter, relaying the cost to you. Besides the cab drivers who conveniently take the scenic route on your time. Especially the ones who refuse to take you on as a passenger, or refuse to take you to your destination. Which btw, is highly illegal, but cabbies do this none less.

I’ve had cab drivers proposition me sexually. Once, I’ve had this cab driver ask me to watch him masturbate. As he went to pull his stick shift out, that was my cue to exit. One time I hailed a cab, got in, and saw the cabbie smoking pot. He turns to me in a low, tough intimidating voice: “you don’t mind if I smoke do you?” (so let’s take a break and three cheers for those Jamaican stereotypes.)

In the looks department I’m not even all that. So imagine if a really hot chick gets in the back seat of one those awful cab rides.

Ironically, as I type this, I remind myself of a song I used to listen to during my tween years. Either the last year of junior high or freshman year in high school. Someone gave me a cassette copy of that Prince album “1999.” One of the songs from that album was “Lady Cab Driver.” To this day, I still think that song is hot. As in sexy steamy hot. Raw sexuality in the back of a cab, no questions asked. No thoughts of happy ever after, just him and the lady cab driver getting it on. Sometimes people just wanna screw.

“Lady cab driver — Can U take me 4 a ride?

Lady cab driver, roll up your window fast
Lately trouble winds r blowin’ hard, and I don’t know if I can last”

I never wanted the white picket fence with the SUV and being the queen of the soccer team. Romance, sure, but I never had that pre-Desperate Housewife fantasy. Lady Cab Driver though…now that was a hot fantasy. Hard, sweet aggression and with each thrust translates all that frustration into the best fuck you’ve ever had. Now that was a fantasy. One of my fantasies. Oh yeah baby, you can take your frustrations right out on me, right here in the back seat.

“This is 4 the cab U have 2 drive 4 no money at all
This is 4 why I wasn’t born like my brother, handsome and tall
This is 4 politicians who r bored and believe in war
This — Yeah, that’s 4 me, that’s who that 1’s 4
This is 4 discrimination and egotists who think supreme
And this is 4 whoever taught U how 2 kiss in designer jeans
That 1’s 4– That 1’s 4– 4 U have 2 live
This 1’s 4 the rich, not all of ’em, just the greedy —
The ones that don’t know how 2 give
This 1’s 4 Yosemite Sam and the tourists at Disneyland
And this 1– ooh! Yeah — That’s the 1.
That’s 4– that’s 4 the– the creator of man
This is 4 the sun, the moon, the stars, the tourists at Disneyland
This is 4 the ocean, the sea, the shore
This is 4– and that’s 4 U, and that’s who that 1’s 4
This is 4 the women, so beautifully complex
This 1’s 4 love without sex
This is 4 the wind that blows no matter how fast or slow
Not knowing where I’m going
This galaxy’s better than not having a place 2 go
And now I know (I know)”

Back to reality. Now if I had a hot cab driver, maybe I would consider these propositions. Just maybe. I seriously doubt I will find stinky, cranky, nasty men as sexy as that song. Sorry, pot bellies, mumbling immigrant accents and being an overall asshole just doesn’t do it for me.

How’s this for an example?
Would *You* Fuck This?
I rest my case.

Now the reason why I’m venting virtually for the world to see. Last night, me and the boyfriend got invited to the movies. The latest Terry Gilliam flick was showing in the AMC near Lincoln Center. So after ‘The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus’ was over (Pretty good film, actually. Maybe I’ll post about it some other time…) we decided to head over downtown. The heavy rain led to our decision to take a cab. The weekend before I had gone to a holiday party over at Jim Hanley’s Universe. Thanks to the heavy snow, three cab drivers refused service to me and my friend. Because they didn’t want to take us to Queens. So I wasn’t exactly thrilled to take a cab the following weekend. Yet it was raining so…we get a cab.

Me, Bejay, his partner Kevin and my boyfriend get inside the cab. The boyfriend gets in the front seat next to the cab driver. As me and Bejay talk about the film, the cab driver begins his own conversation with the boyfriend. He starts off by asking Ben (the boyfriend) how his year has been going. Of course, Ben is the type of person who sees the dark lining in every cloud. So his answer was as woeful as ever. The cab driver offers the solution to all of Ben’s ‘problems.’

“What you need to do” suggested the cab driver “is to eat more pussy.”

So as the cab driver relishes in the joys of eating pussy, and as much pussy as you can get, mind you, there was silence from the backseat. Me and Bejay looked at each other stunned, but Kevin didn’t seem to care. Me and Bejay looked at each other again…then Bejay blurted out “How about them Cleveland Browns?”

Mr. Pussy-Eating Cab Driver was on a roll. He bragged to his ‘captive’ audience about how wonderful eating pussy can be. His technique to getting as much pussy as he can is to hold down two jobs. He’s a school bus driver by day, and a cab driver by night. Sarcastically I remarked that he since he drives a school bus, he must get plenty of ‘young’ pussy.

Not catching the snark in my remark, he proclaims “Oh yes!!! Young pussy is the best!!!”

I took a look at the world’s biggest pussy expert in the yellow cab universe. He looked like a real skanky, greasy version of Borat. Only his hair was longer and slicked back. Slicked back in case he wanted to eat more pussy. Less hair in the way. Come to think of it, I’m surprised he didn’t have a goateee, aka a “taste saver.” But I suppose with just the facial stubble, it would be easier to wipe off those extra vaginal excretions.

“How about those Cleveland Browns?” Bejay chimed in again, trying to change the subject.

Ben takes out his cellphone to show cab driver that as a matter of fact, he does get pussy, thank you very much. On the display window on his cellphone was a pic of me. You know, the type of photo a girl sends to her guy when they’re first dating. It was a sexy one of me posing in a black bra. I still can’t believe Ben has that pic still on his cell. I still can’t believe Ben showed this pussy obsessed cab driver a photo of me. What the hell was Ben thinking? “Don’t show him that photo!” I snapped, “Put that away!”

Anyway, as Ben shows the cab driver that not only does Ben get pussy, but that his own pussy is sitting in the back of the cab. This very cab. Wrong move of course. I was proclaimed by the cab driver that I was “hot pussy” and if he was Ben “he’d make sure he get a job so he can keep on getting that pussy.”

Now here’s the clincher: we reach our designation in the West Village. The cab driver tries to convince Ben to pay the fare in cash. However, Bejay took his credit card, and swipped it in time saving Ben from paying the fare. I think the cab driver knew Bejay had paid the fare, but was still trying to take the cash from Ben. So he could be paid twice as much. His crummy little scam failed, because there was three witnesses from the back seat compared to the one passenger in the front seat. So the pussy eating cab driver got (pussy) whipped, forcing to pay Ben back. He grumbled during the refund, then swiping the receipt and crumbling it up before we had a chance to ask for it. In case we just might file a complaint.

So the cab driver sped off in search of more pussy. My thought was this…if he was getting so much pussy, then why the hell was he spending his Saturday night driving a cab? Isn’t Saturday night prime pussy time? The hell. Then again, there was the possibility of the cab driver, with all the pussy innuendos, was actually making a pass at Ben. As in reverse psychology. He wasn’t sure enough to outright make a homosexual advance, so he started talking about pussy. In case. Not the first time guys have dropped sexual hints towards Ben. Only Ben didn’t find the humor with this cab experience. I couldn’t help but laugh though. It was absurd to begin with.

The saddest part was that the cab driver’s prophesying the joys of pussy had been wasted. His proclamation was spent on two gay men, one woman, and her boyfriend who actually doesn’t have a problem eating pussy. It would’ve been nice to have that speech heard by men clueless about female oral satisfaction, but I guess that’s fate.

And you wonder why yellow cabs have the same color as piss.

Annual Babalon Babes Holiday Illo Posted On Golightly’s Blog

Since the end of 2004, I’ve done holiday greetings for both Psycho Bunny and Babalon Babes. At first I had sent these as hard copies, but in 2008 I decided to post them online instead (via email and social networking sites like Facebook.)

Since early spring of 2009, I’ve submitted various Babalon Babes illustrations to writer Adam Golightly’s blog. A few of these pieces have been featured as “Devil Girl of the Month.”

To cap off the year, here’s my annual Babalon Babes holiday piece here.