postcards from basin city

thanks to warren ellis, who knows all the best pervy things and people in the entire world, i read the online zine BOA: new whore culture. i recommend two of the essays, namely extreme:

I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from losing it. I hate you, I mouthed, grinning, and he kissed my nose in response. Jack Winters got a good picture of that. He thought we were in pervert love, but really, we were in friend love. Really, we were giddy about pulling one over on him, giddy about being partners-in-crime, because giddy was the viable alternative to cracking up and losing the façade that got us the job in the first place.

and Postcards from Basin City: Five Meditations on Frank Miller’s Sex Workers:

Who becomes the signifier of the Law in a corrupt state? Think of Wendy brandishing her gun at Marv, Nancy, the stripper who studies law and works as a dancer (one could argue she literally embodies the law) and most arrestingly, the ladies of Old Town who run their section of the city so tightly that even the police dare not cross them. In Miller and Rodriguez’s vision of Sin City, the ladies literally are the true law that cannot be crushed or erased by patriarchal action. Likewise, the bearers of true justice are whores and their allies.

thanks, warren.