One of the ways I keep on task in my studio is to listen to something playing in the background. I listen to radio programs, audio books, and most recently I've been enjoying podcasts like
Kink on Tap.
Kink on Tap is a very smart discussion-based podcast about sex, gender and kink. It's run by two people I'm proud to call my friends:
Maymay and
Emma.
The format is loose. May and Emma invite guests to come talk about their own work and thoughts on matters of sexuality and then they all have a rousing discussion, full of tangents, intermittently steered by a few pre-selected questions usually about current events. If I weren't otherwise occupied I might get frustrated with the long, rambling nature of the show. When I sit down and listen to a radio program or podcast I tend to like structure- maybe a little overview of what to expect and when, with quick summaries along the way. With
Kink on Tap, I get an idea of what will be discussed in each episode from its brief description, but once it gets started I'm just along for the ride. Thankfully I have kinky animal costumes to keep me blissfully unruffled by the lack of structure. After each episode I go back and check out the links in the description (and in each episode's accompanying wiki page) and I'm oftentimes introduced to new websites, blogs, companies, organizations, and issues that I would not have otherwise been aware of.
Kink On Tap is such a marvelously chatty thing to listen to- I imagine the hosts sitting at a bar with their guests sharing pints. But that would be quite the bar: May broadcasts from the left coast, Emma from the right, and guests anywhere in between or beyond. If I wanted I could listen to the cast live and join the buzz in the chat room, posing questions to the guests and hosts in real time. I choose instead to listen to the published podcasts as they appear in iTunes and enjoy them at my sewing machine. And in my imagination I'm eavesdropping on some very smart people at the next table in our continent-stretching bar, talking about sex.
