evilBuddha

Happy Birthday Me

2007-08-14T12:47:00.000-04:00

37th Edition

Sunday Brunch/ Birthday Fête at Maracas
Attended by: Me, BF, RoboCub and RoboPapi, J, B, F, T and S. Yes, lots of consonants. No vowels.

evilbuddha with birthday sombrero and tequila shot by Robocub

Birthday Swag:

ROCKET COCK ROBOT!

So Crazy Japanese Toys

T-Shirt!

The Gift of Music :)

"Happy Birthday" Serenades:
2 (on voicemail)
1 (on phone)

Birthday Cards Received: 3

Electronic Birthday Cards Received: 4

MySpace birthday Comments: 1

Happy Birthday Emails: 6

Happy Birthday Texts: 2

Booty Shaking: To come

Feeling: Loved :)

"Take me to the river"

2007-05-30T19:43:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day Weekend 2007
Gratuitous Shirtless Shot somewhere along the Delaware

Alive and kicking.
Sorry for the dearth of posts.

I'll post regularly.

Soon.

All grown up.

2007-03-16T11:34:00.000-04:00

Flashback
College Years '89-'94
Any given night after Mu Upsilon, the Brooklyn College Chapter of Sigma Alpha Mu, have thrown one of our famous, well-attended club parties at Club Quick, Mars, Danceteria or the like, the brotherhood, having had our fill of beer and shots, reconvenes back in our home borough for late night/early morning munchies.

The Floridian is the popular spot.

A motley caravan, a la Cannonball Run, wends its way through streets and highways. Somehow, we all arrive at the same time.

The owner seats us with a scowl, a warning. Behave. The furious scratching of pen on paper is all you can hear from the wait staff as cheeseburger deluxes and multiple servings of french fries, smothered in mozzarella cheese with a sides of gravy are ordered.

Waiting, the conversation is spirited. Everyone's playfully jabbing at one another, good-natured ribbing. Other patrons frown as laughing perturbs the previously tranquil environment.

Food comes. The tables quiet some, but not much. Everything is consumed voraciously and with abandon, youth and metabolism on our side. With deep sated sighs and the clanking of utensils, well, if anyone was civilized enough to use them, it signifies the end of eating. Thoughts turn to impending and inescapable sleep.

Hands motion and wiggle in the air calling for the check.

There's always some disagreement over the gratuity and how much each should contribute. Someone cries poverty while having eaten the most. One tries to skip out and is inexorably brought to task on the spot. And still, the bill is short. Eventually the check is settled.

We bid goodnight to one another and scatter to our respective rides, certain to repeat the night's events soon if not tomorrow.

Fast Forward
Last Wednesday. A week long series of emails brings the alumni brothers of Mu Upsilon, Brooklyn College Chapter of Sigma Alpha Mu together for a drink and catch-up at Merchant's on the upper east side. They file in slowly and separately, coming from different areas of the city.

Each new arrival elicits exclamations of surprise, shouts of greeting and a renewed round of hearty handshakes and hugs.

The room fills yet feels empty. So many brothers I'd would've like to see, aren't here. Then again, the room is really full. Metabolism has slowed for everyone, and most have capitulated in the battle of the bulge. Also notice a great deal of thinness in the upper hair region for most people. These two points, however, don't apply to me.

Most remarked to me, "You haven't changed."

After a few hours and many rounds of drinks, we move the gathering over to Brasserie, where one of the brothers (the chapter's founding father, as a matter of fact) is executive chef.

Quietly, we settle up our tabs with little to no problems, beside the occasional, "how'd that get on my bill?"

The restaurant is gorgeous. I feel like a bull in a china shop. But we're expected and welcomed immediately.

As soon as we're seated, trays of appetizers start to roll out of the kitchen. We have some deliciously prepared mini-burgers and fries, not unlike so long ago, accompanied with shrimp tempura, tuna tartar, oysters, clams, ceviche and steak tartar. Goodness.

Everyone digs in. Some more than others. It's late, I have a bite or two. I know better. Some refrain, cautiously. Food allergies.

More drinks.

It's getting close to midnight, the night winds down. Jersey folks first. I'm the second wave out.

More hugs. Good-byes are said, as are promises and hopes of "doing this again real soon." I hope so, but realistically, who knows?

How'd I get here?

2007-03-05T21:08:00.000-05:00

I'm in France. Don't know what makes me believe I'm in France, I just know.

But how? It isn't possible. I haven't got a passport.

It'd expired three years ago. However last week, getting some new photographs done, I dropped them, an application, a check and my old passport into the mail. So definitely no passport currently in my possession.

No way I could've gotten out of the country and into another country, legitimately.

Must've snuck in, a la Sydney Bristow. Cue Alias music.

Suddenly, the tightening of anxiety strikes me. How will I get out of this?

I go seeking a friend. All I remember is he's hot but I'm not looking for him in that way. He can help me.

I find his office, don't know how, but I do. It's empty. I wait inside.

Upon entering, someone speaks to me in muttered tones from behind.
I acknowledge and respond, telling them to turn on the lights. The lights don't work.
They only wash the room in black light. Useless.

Whoever it is, they're ushering me out. Off the desk, I grab a piece of paper to leave a note upon. I start checking off boxes. Before long, I realize I'm defacing a ticket for a dance party. Doing my best to replace it, so as it looks undisturbed, I smooth it out, comically.

As I'm departing, a sudden wave of relief washes over me.

I may not know how I got here, but rest assured, I'll figure a way out.
Spinning on my foot, I turn for the door…

…and I wake up, relieved.

Double Negatives

2007-02-26T13:48:00.000-05:00

Say It Right - Nelly Furtado

Clever girl.

Covered

2007-02-19T22:25:00.000-05:00

I'm simply awash in wireless signal right now.

Figured I've got 'em, might as well use 'em.

It's geeky enough that I've got three variations of Airports running together in a wireless distribution system.

Although you might be wondering why I've got them named as the three magi.

Well, I didn't know who the magi were when I first learned their names.
Of course, they're based on the three wise men of biblical reference, but they'll always be the triumvirate of super computers in the über bible-referencing anime, Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Crobar No More.

2007-02-19T14:45:00.000-05:00

Say hello to Studio Mezmor.
Hey, I rhymed.

Saturday night was opening night. With DJ Vibe (10PM-6AM) and Evolve with Victor Calderone (6AM-?) inaugurating the event, I couldn't resist.

Unfortunately, my ticket was only valid after 4:00AM. I misunderstood that technically DJ Vibe was hosting his own evening and NOT opening for Victor. So if I wanted to hear DJ Vibe, I'd have to buy the ticket for DJ Vibe and I could stay for Victor. However If I wanted to hear Victor but decided that I'd show up early for Vibe, that wasn't possible. Oh and the tickets are the same price. WTF!?!?

The best I could hope for, was to catch a portion of The Magician's set.

At past 4:15AM, I walked up and took my place in the queue.

The marquee emblazoned with a bright red neon sign was the only noticeable exterior change. The usual cast of characters worked the waiting crowd. The NYPD, with their visible presence and gagillion watt spotlights, kept a vigilant watch up and down West 28th Street

The line was long. While the night was not nearly as cold as it had been, it was cold enough. Some people waited momentarily only to walk off the line. Other's stood, moving to and fro, keeping warm, rubbing their exposed, bright red ears. I smiled inwardly. I'd brought my 180 ear warmers and gloves. I've done this long enough to be prepared.

The wait felt longer as the knucklehead behind me, incessantly complained about how long the line was and "it was never like this before." He droned in "duh" voice tone. He'd mix it up and then complain about how cold it was and his feet felt like rocks. Stop. Reset. Repeat. Repetitive and unnecessary conversation is anathema to me. Might as well take a ball-peen hammer to the side of my head.

Regrettably, after the entrance line and the coat check debacle, I missed DJ Vibe.
Undeterred, determined not to let things get to me, I moved down to the main level and looked forward to dancing.

The crowd was in great spirits, having been properly whipped into a frenzy by DJ Vibe I imagine, moving and grooving to the music. Victor was on the decks, playing his usual mélange of tribal, progressive, tech house. The music was much harder and aggressive than his NYE performance.

I recognized a few tracks. They're in rotation with the New York DJs.

This could've been one of the tracks, certainly fits the tone.

Control (Armand Peña Mix) - Ralph Falcon and Charlie Solana

Can't trainspot any of the tracks, since I didn't really focus or stay in one place for very long. "Flying" without a wingman, I was fairly flighty the whole night, wandering from one part of the club to another. The excessive crowding also made it hard.

Walking around, I saw most of the renovations done for Studio Mezmor All the VIP booths on the second level have been redone with new decor and high back seating. The Bamboo room no longer has bamboo, making it more spacious and new seats. Thankfully, they've opened a new path next to the downstair's men's room to the main floor, eliminating the need to go through the curved tunnel passage.

Plenty of eye candy, whatever your predilection. The "boys" weren't out en masse (yet) at 6AM. The regular club crowd was still largely in attendance the entire night. I didn't see a large turnover to a gay crowd this time around.

In the late morning, I found some friends and danced with them on the dance floor. But as it happens, I'm minding my own business, dancing about and someone has to dance up all in my grill. I wasn't in the mood at the time and danced off to the side.

Friend Frank was SUPPOSED to meet up with me there. He did. Eventually I caught up with him around 11:15AM. He and our friend, G had arrived at 10:30AM. They were nearly refused admission but they talked their way in, informed that the club/party would be shutting down at 12.

I left at 11:30 and broke for home.

Epilogue:
The party DID shut down at noon. Frank and friend spent the next hour or so retrieving their coats from coat check.

Upgrades

2007-01-22T16:02:00.000-05:00

Two posts in one day?!? Say it ain't so Pa! Say it ain't so.

I've been feverishly upgrading home entertainment components. The credit card ain't swiping itself you know. Heh. It's certainly something one doesn't go into lightly. It's a huge investment of, obviously, money and lots of time in research, if you're going to do it right. Nobody wants to buy a piece of equipment, only to find it doesn't work the way you want it, if at all.

The centerpiece of the upgrade was the flat panel TV. We had a 32" Sony WEGA for the longest time. Reliable but a fracking huge television, it's a monster tube. I'd grown tired of hearing the wall unit, groan and creak as it bore it's weight.

Long story short, two Sundays ago, after visiting two Best Buys, in Brooklyn and then Staten Island, spending a total of three hours in store, an hour of which was probably spent flagging down a salesperson, vying for their attention amongst a group of huffing and puffing women trying to keep up with the Joneses and "No that bitch Colleen, ain't gonna watch Desperate Housewives" on a TV bigger than mine!"

I lucked out, catching a salesperson who just reported to work.

After much wrangling with whatever was in stock, which turned out not to be but then was (What age are we living? Hello, automatic inventory updates! Get with the program.), we snagged a very sharp (heh) Sharp Aquos 42" Flat Panel TV. Yippee.

Of course, once I'm in a good mood, I can be talked into anything.

My arm was twisted into upgrading to a Sony Blu-Ray DVD player.

Yes, twisted would be an overstatement.

Best Buy had a special with the player, two free Blu-Ray DVDs, X-Men 3 - Last Stand and Swordfish if you must know. Mmmmm, Hugh Jackman. There was also a buy one and get one free (equal or lesser value). Again, if you must know, Kung Fu Hustle and House of Flying Daggers.

As a bonus, I discovered while unpacking, the player came with The Fifth Element. Yippee. “Leeloo Dallas Multi-pass.”

Yeah, the selection isn't great for Blu-Ray but that'll get better.

Hopefully.

At $24.99-$30 a pop, it has to be worthwhile. Although how worthwhile is it to see every craggy, wrinkly skin surface of your favorite actors? I don't know.

At checkout, I cashed in no less than 10 giftcards from my birthday and the holidays, some RewardZone coupons (12% off and double points baby!!!). Let's say, I did very well and my salesperson was über-impressed.

I was a miffed to find that my receiver could not handle 6.1 channels being pushed by the blu-ray player. X-Men 3 was switching over to two channels, but in French or Spanish it would play in 5.1 channel DTS.

An additional upgrade for the receiver was handled later however after noodling around the options in the player, after the fact, I may not have needed the receiver upgrade after all. Oh well, upgrades are upgrades, you're going to need them sometime.

I do find it vastly unfair that this whole new setup sits in the living room, prime viewing space, primarily occupied by the BF. I did watch BSG on the big screen. Looked like crap. We haven't gotten a new HD Cable. Garbage in, Garbage out as they say.

But it was upgrades for everyone.

The Sony 32" WEGA Flat Screen is a step up, for my XBox 360º gaming, from a 27". :)

Old tech doesn't go away, it gets re-purposed.

derailed.

2007-01-22T13:36:00.000-05:00

I hadn't resolved anything as most people do in the new year. But I'd decided that I'd pursue some fitness goals with greater verve than I'd been at the end of 2006.

22 days into 2007, I've fallen off track.

My weak-minded self has allowed me to trip up on some typical pitfalls.

I look okay.
I think.
That's the root cause of my unplanned deviation.
I've allowed myself to justify bad habits and slacking, like…
Have another cookie/donut/piece of chocolate/helping of rice/pasta, you'll work it off at the gym.

Further compounded by,
You can skip the cardio, you've danced a lot this past weekend.
This has been a major stumbling block.

2007, well more like the last month has been fun thus far.
Let's do a quick rundown since I've been neglectful (as well) with this here blog.

Dec. 22nd - Pacha with Tedd Patterson
Dec. 28th - Cielo with Tom Stephan (SuperChumbo), opening by Honey Dijon
NYE- Eve Dancing with the Robos at Roxy with Peter Rauhofer
NYE- Chus and Ceballos w/ Victor Calderone @ Crobar with Friend Frank, J, H and N
Week after NYE - I think I actually took a break *shocked*
Jan. 11th - Frankie Knuckles’ BIrthday at Cielo with Shapeshifters
Jan. 12th - Bar Traipse to Secret and then mr. Black First Year Anniversary with O.
Jan. 14th - Alegria Tribal at Crobar with the Robos.
Jan. 20th - D’s Birthday party with O, followed by Peter Rauhofer @ Roxy

Hmmm, looking over that list, it’s a lot.

I know, I’d been going to the gym, but I can’t remember doing a cardio workout in that entire time.

I’d think, with that amount of dancing, I’d be in excellent cardiovascular shape. But it doesn’t seem to be so.

Last two events, I hit a wall. I was fine, but my body just suddenly wanted to stop. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was in both cases, but after today, I think I have.

Attempting to get myself back on track, I did a full cardio workout. Nothing big. 30 minutes on the elliptical crosstrainer with a decent amount of resistance.

It was hard. I got a familiar, long forgotten pain in my side, I used to run hard and beyond exertion, it felt like gourd was forming on the left side below my ribcage.

I was struggling. I felt like I wanted to hurl. It was unpleasant. My body was reaching the point of exertion, far sooner than I’m used to.

I’m displeased and upset with myself.
I’d lulled myself into thinking I was healthy and fit, but my laziness was catching up to me.

So until I feel righted, the dance machine will take a hiatus. 2-3 weeks of hard work at the gym will get me going in the right direction. Focus on the core of my health with little distraction.

It’ll be good and when I re-emerge, it’ll be all the better.

In the meanwhile, I’ve got plenty things off the dance floor, keeping me busy.

UPDATE:
Apparently, I'm suffering from Blue Monday.
Hat Tip: Aaron via Joe.

System Check

2007-01-02T15:32:00.000-05:00

Running full diagnostic…

Head - Addled/scrambled from the past weekend's NYE activities. (Obligatory: Happy New Year!) As soon as an independent thought can be maintained, with little effort, a more thorough recap will ensue.

Could use a haircut.
Teeth keep going numb.
Ringing in ears, louder than usual.

Body
Neck - Feeling some residual tightness that started the beginning of last week but within tolerances.

Chest - Looks fine but smaller than I'd like. Increased cardio activities are not allowing my body to grow muscle.

Arms - Ditto.

Shoulders - Must be fine, since I had two visiting Russian women admiring/touching them on the coat check line at Crobar. Flattering but your womanly wiles were wasted. Room for improvement.

Back - Slightly sore. You try dancing 17 hours within a three day time frame and see how it feels.

Stomach - Abs are there. Could use some more refinement/tone. Going to have to thumb through this for tips.

Waist - Think I dropped another pants size this weekend.

Butt - Admirers may disagree however like my chest, good but could be better.

Legs
Thighs - Could pack some size back on them. Haven't worked them in forever but they'll respond immediately. Time to whip out this.

Joints - I'm getting older. They aren't refracting as easily as they used to. Still holding things together but they do protest now and again.

…end diagnostic.

Resolve to pack on 5-10 lbs. of permanent, lean muscle this year. (This is my only resolution.) Which also means, I have to be more mindful of eating what my body needs. At the moment, I eat more like a bird which is unhelpful to my plight.

Hair on my chest.

2006-12-12T23:11:00.000-05:00

Facial Hairshirt that is. :)

I likes it lots.
Get one and peruse the other wonderful products at Wire&Twine.

Club evilBuddha

2006-12-10T13:31:00.000-05:00

Trying to invigorate myself into the proper mood to light the christmas tree, I'm piping Proton Radio into the living room via AirTunes on the Airport Express.

Good tunes, a nice deep set of beats. But a little distracting.

I've got the speakers working in two rooms. The living room feels like the club's big room and the office is the chill area where the music is more quietly piped to.

It's making me flighty, wanting to drift from one room to the other. I've always loved the muffled sound of the music in a club while you're in a different room. It'll lure me from one place to another and if it's an especially good tune, to the main dance floor where the full sound hits me.

Hypnotic.

OOOh, a nice sound is happening now. I'm getting chills.

This is certainly motion to get the tree lighting done faster because I'm starting to look forward to Danny Tenaglia and Danny Krivit's 718 Sessions later today at Pacha. Deep house baby.

Ooh, got to get to work.

Sympathetic Harmonics 2 - The Fateful Subway

2006-11-27T17:01:00.000-05:00

I can’t help but muse about an event that was more than coincidental, again.

I was out and about on Friday evening. Dance plans had failed to come together, so I was resolved to only coming into the city for drinks with O and his visiting Australian friend M. Being frightfully responsible and knowing that there was no way I’d dance myself to sobriety, I opted to leave AutoLove home and jump on the subway.

Drinks were uneventful, save for the fact that O bailed on M and me at our first bar, Phoenix. O was still feeling the residual effects of a bad reaction on Thanksgiving and had to bolt. O texted as soon as he was home. However, he’d left me to entertain M. I was more than happy to oblige. Australians are good fun and it wasn’t be the first time O had left me alone with Australians.

M and I trekked over to Urge. Great conversation. M is really sweet, intelligent and and handsome to boot. If ever I needed a barrister, he’d be the one for me. After two beers, we called it quits. Well, we’d had enough of the softish and round dancers, gyrating their pudgy asses and flaccid penises in our faces.

I put M into a cab, sending him along to his hotel. In hindsight, I should’ve taken him to mr. Black but then I would’ve missed an appointment with destiny. I’m getting to it, hold your horses.

Stopping by the office for a pit stop, I also picked up a box I’d left there for ages before heading off to the subway.

Arriving on the platform and as luck would have it, the D train, was NOT running at this station. The suggested alternate route to Brooklyn said go upstairs and grab the 6 to Canal Street to connect with the N. I can sense non-NYers’ eyes glazing over with these nonsensical train instructions. Hoofing up the stairs, I found the 6 platform taped off from access. The gentle hand of fate was being rather forceful now. Back down the stairs to the first platform I went, to catch the F train which would connect me to the N, the train home.

The F train arrived and I bounded on board. Well, I didn’t really “bound” per se, but I was happy to be on my way. I dropped into a seat and snugged the box beneath my arm. If you must know what was in the box, look here. Sufficiently yawn inducing, huh?

Anyway, the train pulled into the next station before I scanned my fellow riders. I looked forward and then back. To my surprise, I found my friend R, looking sulky and glum. I tucked the box under my arm and sidled up to him, saying “hello” and “what the hell are you doing here?” in the same breathe.

While he was shocked to see me, he seemed thankful to see a friendly face. R’d found himself mass transiting home after getting into a yelling match with his friend at Snaxx. It didn’t help matters that his partner sided with said friend. In a fit of frustration, R stormed away, walking through the city from Chelsea, downtown to the East Village, eventually boarding the train car where I’d found him.

Our paths had started to intertwine early in the night. He’d stop for a bio break at Phoenix earlier. That damned fickle finger.

R exclaimed, “I’ve had enough of him (his partner) and J (the friend) can bite me.” I’m paraphrasing.

Needless to say, I couldn’t let him travel alone in his current mind.

I offered him to come back to my place and I’d drive him home. I felt compelled to since this meeting was more than chance, however I was more than happy to help him and talk with him. Not to mention, I was starved and wanted accompaniment to grab a nice, greasy burger and fries at Vegas Diner, best Brooklyn eatery after 2:00AM yo. It’s been a long time since I’d had one.

Getting home, I found the BF wide awake. I informed him that R was with me. R, coincidentally is part of the BF’s drinking court at GYM bar on Friday nights.

Wasting little time and assuring the BF I was capable of driving, I hopped into AutoLove and headed over to Vegas Diner.

Over my pizza burger with fries and his scrambled eggs and ham, we talked out his frustrations with work, with his partner and some generally disturbing news about mutual friends. Saddening that the whole Brooklyn crew has become fractured, so lost. Sigh. Something for me to fix. I feel like Jack.

After we were both sated by our meals and R assured me he’d be coolheaded when he spoke with his partner, I dropped him home in Gravesend.

Getting home at 3:30AM, I crawled in to bed, feeling I’d done a good thing. But still so much more to do.

Sinfully Good.

2006-11-22T14:51:00.000-05:00

No work today.
Getting up at 2:00PM. Finally catching up on rest.
Snacking on cookies, PBJ sandwiches and tea whilst listening to the wind and leaves rustle outside.
Wrapped in a comfy blanket, surfing and catching up on emails.

Not yet dead.

2006-11-20T11:44:00.000-05:00

Dead Blog Collector: Bring out yer dead. [Hits gong] Should be a cowbell. Everything is better with more cowbell.
Large Man: Here's one. [Yanks out evilbuddha] Hmmmm… large man. Hey, easy on the material.
Dead Blog Collector: Ninepence. What? Thought I'd be worth more damn it. But, now hold on a second…
evilBuddha blog: I'm not dead! Have you seen my ass?
Dead Blog Collector: What? did I stutter?
Large Man: Nothing. Here's your ninepence. Stop it with the ninepence. I could get $200 at least for an hourly rate
evilBuddha blog: I'm not dead! I repeat, Have you seen my ass?
Dead Blog Collector: 'Ere, he says he's not dead. he thinks I'm cute.
Large Man: Yes he is. just you wait till we get home.
evilBuddha blog: I'm not! and hot! just kidding. I'm not THAT full of myself.

Sorry about the little hiatus.

Work has been a drag.

Some internal upheavals has left only me and my manager. Essentially a one man show, starring me, doing a majority of the work. Today is going to be a busy and long day, so fortunately, we've brought in another freelancer to help cover work which affords me a little free time to blog.

Tooling around with the new beta of Blogger. During my short break from blogging, Blogger was having some major issues, general slowness. I missed most of it. The new interface seems to be perkier and stable. The inclusion of Labels makes it possible for me to sort my posts via category, so you the reader can beeline to exactly what you want to hear from me, skipping over the other nonsense and noise.

With the holidays coming, I'll set aside some time to spruce up the ole blog. A fresh coat of paint and some new curtains can do wonders.

Still Star Trek geeking.

2006-11-06T11:53:00.000-05:00

This arrived in the morning.

I'd been absent-mindedly surfing through Amazon and it'd caught my eye. It snagged onto a forgotten part of me, the Star Trek geek that'd used to spend hours, pouring over starship technical data and design schematic books, absorbing every tidbit. I'd add to my fount of useless knowledge, so that I could later recall them, impressing my fellow Star Trek geek friends.

Or at least, I'd hope I would.

Scanning the book, it wasn't quite what I expected. No tech data. No schematics. Not even a comparative size chart of the Enterprise line. I love comparative size charts. Heh.

Instead, it's filled with beautifully rendered CGI and painted images of the ships of Star Trek.

While "Ships of the Line" didn't fulfill my desire for useless technical data, it gave me a pang of being homesick. I looked fondly over the pictures, remembering Star Trek as an old friend with whom I used to pass the time, an old friend who hadn't been around in a while.

Shuffle, Step Two.

2006-11-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

Ugly in the Woolworth

2006-10-30T10:57:00.000-05:00

It's amusing to see "Ugly Betty" using the former office space of the now defunct Duffy New York in the Woolworth Building as their set/backdrop.

I should know, I used to work there.

It's a cool, swanky space with tunnels of white, conference rooms with frosted glass and curvy, sexy furniture. I recognize some original pieces of decor.

Must be cheap to find someplace fitting your design. Or did they make it fit? The space definitely smacks of "The Devil Wears Prada."

I accidentally discovered this while hanging out at Robocub's. I was forced to watch since it was set on his DVR and being a good guest, I didn't want to botch anything.

Quiet Halloween Weekend.

2006-10-30T10:46:00.000-05:00

I'd never been much for Halloween.

Getting dressed up, while fun, is always too much of a production. I never become fully vested in a costume because for anything to be done right, I should've been planning it since last year. I can barely make a long term plan, much less a year long commitment to next year's Halloween.

The usual insanity swirling around Halloween can be a bit over the top. It's good and bad, depending on how you look at it. It's also amateur weekend too. Most people who never go out, do. You'll see them, hunched over, throwing up or passed out. Moderation isn't in the night's vocabulary.

Still, I did have hopes to do something. However, in the end, I did nothing and I was perfectly fine with it.

Friends, S and R, had their Halloween party on Friday night. I'd thought to make this my first stop of many but it ended up being my one and only stop. It was rainy and a miserable night to be out. I hung out with friends whom I hadn't seen in a while, really chill.

Saturday. Hmm… couldn't even tell you what I did because I don't remember.

Oh yes, I never left the house. Wow.

Sunday. Two weeks back, I'd informed my manager that I'd may consider taking Monday, October 30th, off. On Friday, he boasted, "I'll be sick on Monday, so I won't be in." Afterwards, I gently reminded him of my day off to which he responded, "It would be nice if you were in."
That nixed any thought or desire to go out that night.

10:30PM found me curled up on the couch with a crossword puzzle and
Death Cab for Cutie quietly crooning in my ears.

It was relaxing but I was brooding a little. The BF had gone out earlier and had come back a little whacked (see drunk). He'd fallen asleep on the couch and when the phone rang, attempted to answer the cable remote. He got snippy as I repeated myself, pointing out that the remote will not pick up the phone. He chided, "Well, you're not answering it."

In the evening's last bout of drunkenness before retiring to bed, the BF walked in to the kitchen, asking me, "Where's the extra?"
"Extra what?" as I could hardly contain my amusement.
"The extra." he responded.
"Do you hear yourself?" I chuckled.
Then words started to fall out of his mouth, "Black… fighter… extra."
I think his mind was permeated by too much Justice League Unlimited, of which, he watched at least 20 episodes this weekend.

I laughed and he called me an ass, which put off me off.

Sorry if I don't speak drunkenese.

This morning, I told him about his surliness. He apologized. All he could recall is frustration at not being able to express a word.

Duh!

Drink-induced aphasia is funny I guess.

I'm all well-rested now and I'm sure by week's end, all antsy.

Where the drums (and boys) are.

2006-10-23T22:14:00.000-04:00

Past month, I've hit the dance clubs and while every experience has been fun in their own way, they were ALL missing something.

Great DJs, good music and space to dance, what more could I want?

To be blunt, boys. Men.

Sure, I'll go check out such and such a DJ if I've heard his/her work and liked it.

But please, I like to carouse around with my fellow, gay brethren. Dancing around like a bunch of silly gooses, shirts off and chests glistening with sweat with a couple of hundred (or more) gay men till all hours of the morning/afternoon, that's a gay dance experience. Even the BFs done it, years ago and recently on our trip to SF. It was embarrassing. No, I kid. He's got a good body he works hard on. He was having fun and for a switch, I was too shy and demure to take my shirt off. I was geisha.

Usually I'll stay decent and presentable, keeping my shirt on. It'll be sopping wet by the end of a good night but it's on. Some of the straight boys do take their shirts off (and most of every right to YUM!), but it's out of the ordinary. Club security can tell to them to put their shirts back on, especially if they're the rarity.

I've gone off on a tangent, anyhow…

Straight club nights are generally mixed crowds, but the proportions are usually NOT in my favor. You've got a smattering/handful of "boys." Unfortunately, most gay men won't go out of their comfort zones to check out parties, just based on the fact that they're NOT exclusive gay. Sheesh. narrow much?

However, most gay parties end up being big, circuit parties and while there's nothing wrong with circuit parties, the music ends up being an afterthought.

Thankfully, there's Victor Calderone's Evolve.

He'd cut his chops spinning for the boys at Roxy, very gay sound and plenty of vocals. After his stint, his sound changed, meting his repertoire with good, dirty, tribal and progressive house beats He manages to keep the "boys,"and me, happy and coming back for more. Victor's created a loyal and resilient following.

His party was just what I needed this past weekend and I was anxious for it to come.

More over, Tom Stephan aka SuperChumbo was spinning the early part of the night, opening for Victor. Familiar with his DJ sets and his productions, I was excited to hear him for the first time live.

Let's face it, I try to disco nap. It never works. I headed out at 1:30AM into the city, arriving at Crobar around 2:00. It's been ages since I'd been on 28th Street. The NYPD had set up huge spotlights in their nuisance abatement campaign. Obtrusive much? I do understand NY wants to cut down on underage drinking, especially since some parents don't want to be parents anymore. Still, I think I got a sunburn heading to the club.

Once inside, I beelined to the main room. Sigh. It's been too long since I'd been in that room. In the days leading up the party, I was nostalgic. It's big and sterile and it'll never be home like Vinyl/Arc but man, can that room shape sound.

It was fairly early and crowded, but i knew the "boys" wouldn't get there till about 6-7AM. Call me the lead scout. Friend Frank had called earlier in the day, saying he'd be popping in around 7AM.

I weaved into the dance floor and found myself some space. I saw some brethren in and around the areas, that was comforting. But I was content to dance around, moving freely in and out of the crowd, alone. Freelance dancer.

Tom Stephan was throwing down some nasty, dirty beats. Fun. Beside some of his own productions like, Revolution, I couldn't train spot any of his tracks. I've been out of the loop on newer tracks. Some of them were sick and incredible, but he'd build up and then go in to a break, totally killing the momentum. Just get on with it was my thought. This seemed to happen more and more as the morning progressed, which leads me to believe that he was getting everyone chomping at the bit for Victor, the main attraction. If that's the case, I give Tom Stephan props for being an excellent opening DJ, because by the time he was done, I was ready for Victor.

Victor opened with crashes of sound (on purpose) and bright, flashing lights as the crowd roared, cheering. And it was on. Picking up from where Superchumbo left off, he took us on a new journey filled with heavy, dirty beats. It was great ride but when he played Boost Your Metabolism, he kicked up a notch and didn't look back. No one complained as we were hammered by Victor's relentless musical assault. It was a welcome sound.

And like clockwork, the boys started appearing 2 hours into Victor's set. Lots of shirtless hotties started to pepper the dance floor. Walking through the connecting tunnel from the bathroom to the main room, I saw an exodus of people, mostly guys and girls, hand-in-hand. Guess some of the straight guys were feeling a little outclassed by the boys with their fine bodies. There was plenty of eye candy and I ogled. Oh, I was ogled back, that's part of the fun.

So with the music going well and I was dancing amongst my brethren, I was having a blast. Friend Frank showed up at about 8:00AM. Shrug. Didn't phase me none, I've become quite adept at having fun by myself. Take that, however you wish. :-P

Hot Track
Terceira - Carlos Fauvrelle

The music never let up, but the crowd eventually did. Crobar was at about one third capacity around 2PM, when I'd called quits. I was tired and I was satisfied.

I hadn't even looked for Friend Frank, figuring he'd be in it for a later haul. I was surprised to find out today that he'd called it quits at 1:30PM. He complained he was "so tired." That amused me.

Now, what to do for Halloween? :-)

Last Minute: 8 BIT

2006-10-12T12:09:00.000-04:00

On a heads up from Jockohomo, I checked out a screening of the documentary 8 BIT at MoMA last night.

The short description “a hybrid documentary examining the influence of video games on contemporary culture.”

I was so there.

It was a miserable, wet NY night, perfect for a little trip of nostalgia.

It’d been forever since I’d been to MoMA. Well, untrue, I picked up my ticket earlier in the afternoon. The last time I’d been there was probably for a college art history class, before MoMA’s renovations. I remember seeing Constantin Brancusi’s “Bird in Space,” one of my favorite sculptures. Sigh. I’ll have to make a point of going back during normal museum hours.

The theater gallery adjoined the primary museum space. Passing through, I was able to look into MoMA’s sculpture garden. In the murky, gloomy twilight, I hoped to catch a glimpse of Rodin’s “Monument to Balzac.” Perhaps I couldn’t see it in the darkness but It wasn’t where I remembered it. I stifled a pang of disappointment. Must get back during normal hours. Must get back to my fine art roots.

Yes! I have fine art roots thank you very much.

People filed into the theater, buzzing with idle chatter. I settled into an aisle seat, kicking back with an episode of BSG on the ipod. More on BSG another time. Scanning the audience, I noted that most were around my age. Not so surprising. Some were younger, probably curious of the novelty.

Before the movie, we had a few words from MoMA and from the director of 8 BIT, Marcin Romocki. He said, “If you like video games, like music and like art. You’ll like this movie.”

The movie moves along nicely, drifting from a brief history of video games into (some of) the cultural effects of hacking and self-expression found in the medium, then delving further into the remnant art/musical forms spawned from it. I say “some of” because, while 8 BIT does an admirable job of covering the movement, it only scratches the surface, highlighting a few examples of work from a few fringe, niche artists. 8 BIT doesn’t try to quantify the overall impact of video games on our culture, but does invite us to explore the effect of video games in our individual experiences.

8 BIT is a great documentary. Reading some of the early reviews, I do agree that some of the editing was a little shocking in the beginning and it does end abruptly. It succeeds in bringing me back to a simpler time and I wish I remembered what I did with my original GameBoy. I'm pretty sure I could rock out some kickass tunes.

DJ Double Dose

2006-10-02T14:09:00.000-04:00

It’s been a while since I’ve done a club report, nearly 2 months. YIKES! It’s not that I haven’t been going out. I haven’t been inspired to write about them, good or bad.

Nonetheless, what better way to end the drought than with a positive report.

This past Saturday, I went to Pacha NY, the club du jour these days, to hear Danny Tenaglia and Carl Cox. The last time I’d heard these two giants play together was at Twilo some years ago.

Meeting up with friends beforehand, none of whom I could convince to go to Pacha with me, we grabbed a cocktail at Barracuda. Front bar, crowded and someone stank like sh*t. Back room, not so crowded with tinny, distorted, loud music. We finished our one cocktail and while my friends headed to the East Village and I headed over to Pacha. Alone, no wingman but I was fine and very excited.

The queue was short, I breezed right in. With a cursory search and tap under my balls, I entered Pacha.

Walking in to the mezzanine floor, the club was popping with energy. Plenty of people were hanging at tables in the VIP areas, getting the most for their overpriced table service I gather. The glass partitions, around the central area overlooking the dance floor, were wide open. Previous experiences at Pacha, they’ve been partially or completely closed to create separate dance/music spaces from the main dancefloor. However with two top notch DJs in the house, there was only one party in the house.

Carl Cox was on the steel wheels, ripping Pacha up.

Tech house thrummed through the opening as bolts of light flashed upwards, illuminating the dark mezzanine. Reminded me of a fiery pit of hell, belching fire and brimstone except, um, not.

The music was calling me.

Heeding the call, I made my way to the main dance floor.

“Packed“ doesn’t adequately describe the main floor. ”Sardines“ would. Up and down the stairs, people were hanging out, looking over the main dance area. I’ve seen Crobar crowded like this but the difference here was everyone was dancing, swaying, having a great time. The energy was positive and contagious. I made my way in to the mob and found a little space for myself to groove. I had a blast. Sure, there were some noobs, flailing like they were having an epileptic fit. Elbows flying in a crowd? Not very considerate. I got nailed in the chest a few times but I brushed it off. I’ll kill them later.

In the back of my head, I knew that the longer I stayed, I’d be rewarded with much, more space and a better dance experience.

Carl Cox was doing a fantastic job. He kept the energy up and the whole club was feeling good.
But when Danny started at 4:00AM, I was more than ready. He took Carl’s lead, continuing with the hard tech house and took us on a thumpy, grindy, fist-pumping, aural journey. It was a trip. Danny was once again relentless for the next 8 hours I was there.

I danced most of the time I was in Pacha. With no wingman, I was struck with wanderlust. I couldn’t stay in one place for long. Good thing Pacha had 4 floors to keep my interest. I would go from the basement to the mainfloor. Head up to the mezzanine and outside for a few, watch the morning rain fall on NY’s west side and up into Pachita, the four floor. Every space was grooving, people soaking in the beats being served. All good.

There were a few people from the dtourism message board there. They arrived much later than me to enjoy Danny later in the day.

I also busied myself, stealing glances with a guy, who by all appearances seemed straight. He’d gotten my curiosity when I was dancing close to the bar. He and a friend were passing behind me and then he leaned up against the bar to watch me, much to the chagrin of his companion. It was certainly flattering because he kinda looked like Channing Tatum. Yum. But I’ve never dallied with a straight or bisexual boy. Still flattering, considering he danced close by, was talking to a girl and I caught him looking my way a few times. Snicker.

By 12:15PM, my reserves were depleted. Danny showed no signs of stopping. (FYI, he spun till 4:00PM) I had the presence of mind to leave, and just enough energy to get me home.

The end.

Here’s some youtubed goodness of the night.
Not the best, lots of sound distortion, but it’ll give you the gist.

The World is Bigger Than Me.

2006-09-28T16:19:00.000-04:00

The chatter in my brain had grown to a din. Work was ramping up into an uncontrolled mess. My emotions were spiraling out of control, barely containable. With the pressure around and within, my chest tightened. I felt closed in, trapped. The noise in my head, the ambient sound in the office were asphyxiating me.
Got to get out.
When an opportunity to break came, I ran.
Got to get out.
Jaw clenched, I grabbed my gym bag and headed for the elevator,.
GOT TO GET OUT!
Through the front door.
OUT! Thank goodness out.
I headed west for open air.
I had no intention of hitting the gym. My brain was fried and my body fatigued.
I snagged a sandwich and looked for a sunny, open space.
Settling into the middle area of NYU’s Silver Towers, I found a strip of sun, beaming between two of the buildings.
I sat and ate.
Maybe it was hunger, twisting my insides because damn, the sandwich was good.
The stillness between the towers drowned out the chatter in my head. I gained a momentary peace.
My stomach sated, I turned and faced the sun for a solar recharge.

My heart and thoughts calmed.

The street noise slipped away. I felt the weight of my surroundings, envelope me, bringing me to scale.

“The world is bigger than me.”

This singular thought spoke clearly in my head.

I felt relieved for the moment.
But I’d have to face myself again soon.

Back to Form

2006-09-19T10:32:00.000-04:00

“…and now, back to our regularly scheduled emotional state.”

Apologies to my reader(s). If you’re still with me, GREAT. If not, well, there goes my stats.

I haven’t been feeling my sexy, confident self of late. Blogging is a narcissistic exercise (C’mon, let’s not kid ourselves), so without the underpinning of ego, blogging fell by the way side.

I’d been “caught up” in the ebb and flow of my emotions in recent weeks. Punctuated by nice high points, mirrored by lower than low points, mood modulation was a chore. I sucked it up, gritted my teeth and put on a brave face, seething and stewing by myself. Moments of clarity were few and far between.

I’m coming out of this cloud. A big thanks goes to MacBoyX for being an unflinchingly honest, non-judgemental ear and ever-present friend.

So, time permitting, I’ll be getting back to clubbing in NYC, which by the way is taking a pounding these days and not in a good way, robots!, comics or whatever tickles my fancy. The EvilBuddha Life in general.

Stay tuned.

Home

2006-09-08T10:54:00.000-04:00

I’m back in NYC. Flying in to JFK late Tuesday night, returning to work (and the gym) on Wednesday, I’ve been settling into a normal, post-summer pace of life.

After a whirlwind trip to SF, it feels good.

Quick SF recap.

The trip was great. I met lots of good people, also attending the “wedding” of K & M. Notably, I discerned that one of them, E, who’d moved out to California two years ago with his wife, had attended junior high school with me in Brooklyn nearly 19 years ago.

Yikes!

Talk about a small world.

We had a lot of fun at K&M's ceremony. It was at Aurobora Press, an art gallery a few blocks walk from our hotel. The ceremony was very sweet and touching.

The BF took over 600 photos on the trip. He’s a menace with a 1gb memory card. I have to sort through the photos and post some.

SF wasn’t too crazy a trip for me.

I spent most of my time resting, fighting chest congestion precipitated by allergies I’m guessing. I went to the doctor first chance I had upon returning to NY. Feeling much better thanks. Not to mention, everytime I drank alcohol I was thrown for a loop. Very strange.

The BF was on a tear, hitting the bars and having a grand old time with our friends. If it wasn’t Midnight Sun, it was Badlands. I could barely tolerate both as I’m NOT a big fan of bars. Badlands was especially tough. They played awful 80s dance music, from Whitney Houston to Dead or Alive. I couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it.

We did manage some dancing (with the bears) at Sanctuary by GusPresents, the party concluding the Harrison Street Fair. The music was only marginally better than Badlands quite honestly. Lots and lots of vocals. Sigh.

Plenty of good eating, in the Castro and about town. All good except for the last night when the BF’s face turned red from what could have been an allergic reaction to something he ate.

Beside all that, a little shopping was in order. I got Ray Ban aviators (more function than fashion for a change) and a Nixon watch, the Dictator.

“We're going to the chapel…”

2006-08-31T22:44:00.000-04:00

“…and we're gonna get married.”

No, not me silly.

The Chapel of Love popped into my head as I was sitting here, writing to inform you that I'll heading out tomorrow morning to San Francisco for a friend's wedding.

It'll be the first gay union I'm attending.

I'm excited. It'll be fun.

Posts will be light (well, even lighter than usual) to none.

As a consolation, I'll have more shots of me in a suit to post, when I get back.

Have a safe Labor Day.

Back on Wednesday. Toodles.

Kiki & Herb

2006-08-28T15:39:00.000-04:00

I'd never been a big fan of drag queen acts. They never struck me as entertaining, especially the ones that lipsynch entire songs. I'd gone to my first drag show in Provincetown at the pre-fire Crown and Anchor around 1995. Lavish costumes, exaggerated theatrics and over-emoting, it was fun to watch. However, the allure eluded me. My sense of humor at the time, was probably more in tune with college grade humor. Not to mention, I was more than likely still uncomfortable with being gay and unable to laugh at myself.

Fast forward to last friday.

The BF and I were going to see Kiki and Herb, Alive on Broadway…

…with our friends, S and R. We'd stopped by GYM bar for pre-show cocktails. The Robos were in attendance. From RoboPapi, I got my fabulous birthday. (more on that later) C and P, R, D and A, along with plenty of other letters to protect to the names of the not-so-innocent, were also at the bar. Needless to say, it was good to see everyone before we headed off to the Helen Hayes Theatre.

We were joined at the theater by A and F.
Not surprising, the audience was três gay.
We sat in the second row, unnervingly close to the stage, pretty much dead center.

Long short, I had a blast, thoroughly enjoying the show. The nuanced performance from both Kiki and Herb, the high camp. Loved it. It was a first for me. The BF whooped and hollered next to me on my left, never containing his laughter. Lots of knee slapping, I'd never seen the like.

On my right however, I could hear crickets.

A couple, man and woman sat mostly quiet, thunderstruck, unable to make anything of the show. When intermission came, upon returning to my seat, I predicted that the couple would not be coming back for the second act. Not so surprising, they didn't. Shrug.

I don't want to give away too much of the show, but you can click on the picture to link to a NYT write up of the show. If Kiki and Herb is your sort of thing, I'd say, get out and see them before they fake dying again.

Everything happens…

2006-08-28T11:24:00.000-04:00

…for a reason.

Good or bad. Must remind myself of that.

Eternals

2006-08-24T12:20:00.000-04:00

It's been a while I've been excited about a comic. The state of comics today, if you haven't been reading, it's hard to get up to speed.

Now, there's the Eternals…

…a restart of the classic originated by Jack Kirby, now helmed by Neil Gaiman (Sandman, 1602) and one of my favorite artists, John Romita, Jr. (Spider-man, Iron Man, X-Men).

Here's a little description from Marvel

Bestselling author Neil Gaiman returns to bring to you one of the most eagerly anticipated events of 2006 - Eternals. Gaiman is joined by none-other-than superstar artist John Romita Jr. as they reimagine this creation of the legendary Jack Kirby.

Gaiman promises that Eternals will firmly cement the Eternals and their extended mythos into the Marvel Universe… and neither the Eternals or Marvel will ever be the same again. The acclaimed writer of 1602 brings you a tale of adventure, love affairs, and betrayals in the mighty Marvel manner that is guaranteed to be one of the biggest events of 2006.

Immortals with amazing powers have watched civilizations rise and fall…so why does no one remember them? Find out that and more in Gaiman and Romita Jr.'s Eternals.

I've read Issues #1-3 and I'm hooked. It's great to see JR Jr.'s artwork. We even get to see him render ole Shellhead. Fantastic.

My only gripe… the covers.
They're ugly and dingy.

They're a Alex Ross meets Bill Sienkiewicz mish mash. The variant cover(s) by John Romita, Jr. are so much cooler and so much more expensive. It's totally stupid in a circa late '90s Marvel variant cover crazed market way.

Lookey-Likey

2006-08-20T20:13:00.000-04:00

What do you think… do I look like Andy Lau?

Before I get the funny ha ha comments of "which one is you?"… I'm the one on the right.

Why do I ask? you're wondering…

Friend Neal and his GF were in town last week. Grabbing lunch one day and hanging out, we fell on the subject of Hong Kong cinema. It came out that they'd thought I had a passing resemblance to Mr. Lau. The thought certainly piqued my interest as to what Mr. Lau looked like, so I imdb'd him.

Hmmm… I don't see it.

For kicks, I'd struck an Andy Lau pose, since I had to get trussed up in a monkey suit for a wedding today.

Please excuse that the angle of the shot and the lighting are completely wrong. I was working from memory. The gist is there.

I clean up nice. No?

Birthday Celebrations

2006-08-15T16:33:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 36. I’m okay with it.

Celebrations started last Thursday with cocktails with the Robos, RoboCub and BF RoboPapi at GYM bar. Drinks were imbibed, gifts were given. Well, one is on it’s way and I’ll most certainly post pictures when I get it. Regardless, it was a fine start to festivities with two of my favorite people, even if I did get a little soaked from the torrential downpour that started just as we were leaving. I waited 10-15 minutes for the rain to let up and still got pretty wet.

Friday night, the BF had arranged a barbecue at a friend’s house. I’d thought it’d be just us, our friend and his BF. I was mistaken. I was clued in during the week as the BF was running about, dropping things off at said friend’s house. I also found a “To Do”, shopping and invitee list. It was a much larger affair than just a meal I gathered. I’m usually loathe for anyone to go out of their way for me, especially organizing a party. Still, it was nice to see people for my birthday. It turned out to be a beautiful night to hang out in the friend’s backyard. The humidity of the past few weeks was gone.

The BF got smashed, I stayed sober. go figure. I yelled at him to keep things quiet as he whooped, hollered and cranked up the radio. It was about midnight, I was trying to be considerate of the neighbors. Gosh, that makes me seems old, doesn’t it?

My younger brother and his wife gave us a ride home. The BF passed out immediately.

Saturday day was quiet, celebratory in that way because I did absolutely nothing. I neither felt the urge or the impetus to do anything. I’d thought about going to the gym and hitting the beach but it required too much effort. Instead, I sunned myself on the roof and I worked out briefly at home.

Having saved my energy during the day, I released it all dancing in another night of birthday celebration with the Robos. We hit the Roxy, not knowing quite what to expect from DJ Mike Cruz. I’d heard him before at Krash at Club Deep and Krash’s original home in Astoria. I couldn’t really rely on that experience since the house/dance sessions were always interrupted with salsa/merengue.

The music turned out to be a blast. DJ Mike Cruz surprised me and the Robos. It was all fresh and new to me so I couldn’t trainspot any of it. Needless to say, we danced our asses off.

The crowd was thin which was not surprising. It did get “more crowded” but never unbearably so and it mysteriously emptied out around 3:30-4:00 I estimate. There were some handsome men in the crowd. By 5:00 however, it was getting to be the witching hour and the dance floor predators were out. My hackles were raised as they started trolling around for after-dance partners, bumping into me and trying to get my attention. I seriously hate this. RoboCub noticed my tenseness as we’d rubbed up against each other and I turned, ready to clobber whoever it was.

With my defenses at full power and shields at maximum, it was time to leave.
Thanks again to the Robos for helping me celebrate my birthday.

Sunday was another quiet day, spent with the BF’s brother’s family in SI. They had a barbecue for my birthday and cake, italian cannoli cream cake and chocolate jelly ring ices too. Yummy.

Monday, the official birthday, I worked. Too many expensive habits to support. :-P
It was a great day, fielding all the phone calls, wishing me a Happy Birthday. I truly felt blessed for all the friends I have. Thank you to everyone.

It was a quiet birthday day otherwise. Drinks at G and dinner at Rocking Horse with the BF and our friends, O and M, closed out my birthday celebrations.

I turned 36. I’m okay with it.

Returned, Renewed, Restored, Regressed.

2006-08-08T14:34:00.000-04:00

Last week, I wasn’t much in the mood to blog. It wasn’t just the emotional stuff I was going through, flatlining my urge to blog. Simply, I was without my MacBook Pro, my mobile office, my digital pen and paper. Seems silly, but I’d grown accustomed to writing, blogging and corresponding only on my laptop. I tried writing on my work machine. The words didn’t flow as easily.

The week prior to last, I’d put in a call into Apple’s AppleCare unit. The MBP was well within its original warranty. Additionally, I’d paid for the extended warranty, so it was ridiculous not to call Apple and have them at least diagnose the issues I was having. It was a very pleasant experience. The AppleCare rep was courteous and open-minded, listening to my description of the problem.

Albeit I was a little surprised that he was aware of any such problems with the MacBook Pro line.
These problems have been documented and commented like crazy on the Apple Support Boards.
Perhaps Apple itself needs to monitor the boards more for content. Moderators should take notes and pass them along. Head trouble off at the pass.

During our support call, the Apple rep emailed me a data capture program to get a snapshot of the MBP functions during normal operation for the apple tech gurus to examine and diagnose. I did it gladly and waited for them to get back to me.

I was shocked and amazed that the rep called me the next day, saying that the Techheads were interested in “capturing” my computer for further tests. I’d have to ship it to them and they’d replace it with a new system.

Yippee, fantastic news.

Groan. I have to backup everything and “clean” the machine, but only so much. They needed the operating system in it’s current state to properly test and figure out the root of the problem.
It was a bit of a hassle but I had to do it.

SuperDuper! to the rescue.

Backed up and cleaned up, I bid adieu to my poor, ailing MBP on a Friday, leaving me un-mobile for a week.

The New MBP arrived yesterday. Much ballyhooing and celebration.
I tested it with my backed up drive and it was whisper quiet.
Restoration of my hard drive was straight forward and painless. Yeah. SuperDuper!

All was well.

Till today.

The buzz is back.

Sigh.

I’ve resigned myself to accept that it’s something to do with the hardware and the current version of OS. It’s inescapable.

I wrapped that up fast. I was beginning to bore myself.

Relief

2006-08-03T09:34:00.000-04:00

I hadn't noticed, but I'd been holding my breathe for three days. Well, not literally. I'd be dead and blue if that were true. More accurately, I'd been waiting in bated breathe for any news of my friend.

Not wanting to get into details, it's a tale of woe you'd hear associated with the circuit/party scene. Similar stories I'd heard before, never imagining such an occurrence would befall anyone close to me.

Was it arrogant of me to believe my friends are infallible? or is it hopeful?

Regardless, something happened to a friend during the Pines Party. More scared than I would admit, I was crushed.

I felt guilty. How couldn't I protect him?
I felt angry. Who did this to him?

It was a terrible feeling.

I was told some promising things before leaving Fire Island, however indefinitive. The gravity of what'd happened didn't sink in, until more and more days passed. I called the only number I had, leaving a message.

Waiting in silent anguish, I hoped for a happy resolution.

Wednesday morning, a phone call from a phone number I didn't recognize. His voice was quiet, but sent waves of relief through me. I felt like I'd taken my first breathe in a long time.

I was truly happy to hear his voice and I told him so.

He couldn't really speak at that moment, but he assured me he was "okay." Picking up the pieces as it were.

We parted promising to see each other soon.

I know I'll hug him extra hard when I do. Perhaps give him a slap up side the head after, but I'd hug him again.

Thanks to everyone I've spoken to, and who've commented. You mean a lot.

Taint

2006-08-01T11:26:00.000-04:00

I've been mulling the events of the Pines Party weekend in my head, trying to put thought into word. Nay, struggling is more like it.

I'm afraid it's just not going to happen.

An unfortunate incident involving a friend has marred the memory and experience of the Pines Party. I can't dwell on it in a positive light while I can't confirm the whereabouts and well-being of my friend.

Sorry.

Millennium Actress

2006-07-26T15:17:00.000-04:00

I’m almost through my latest stack of anime. Looking forward to the next installments of all the series I’m in to. Watching series can be quite an investment of time, most people aren’t willing to dedicate.

For those people, I wanted to recommend Millennium Actress.

It’s a one shot movie that'd received critical acclaim in it’s theatrical run. I’d ordered it after reading some positive write-ups. As luck would have it, my first order of Millennium Actress was part of a much larger order of anime that’d gotten lost in the postal system. Thanks USPS!

Undeterred, I ordered it again from Amazon, albeit at a higher price and with more (unnecessary) items.

However, I’m glad I did.

It’s a beautifully animated piece, with lush backgrounds and fantastic, fluid movement. Probably some rotoscoping involved. The storytelling is top notch as well as very inspired.

Admittedly, it’s not an easy movie to plow through. Some of the storytelling elements are confusing. I’m purposely being vague because you have to see it to understand.

Depending on your point-of-view, another negative could be the movie is NOT dubbed in english, only subtitled. There have been some commenter complaints to this point but I’ve personally decided that it’s actually better subtitled. Granted you MAY miss some of the great animation while reading the subtitles, but what you gain is a more invested interest in the movie. Perhaps that’s why some people become so addicted to anime, myself included.

All things aside, see it. It’s a great story. It got me misty and that’s saying a lot.

Struggling

2006-07-26T13:23:00.000-04:00

It’s been a tough morning.

Indigestion-induced insomnia kept me up late. My stomach had been sour early in evening, but that didn’t stop me from having dinner with my friend Oscar. The company and the food were great but it laid on top of an already troubled base. We walked about the West Village in the beautifully cool, evening. That kind of helped. Oscar mentioned dessert. I nearly burst from the thought.

Burp. Ugh.

Around 1:30AM, sitting and looking up at the ceiling, I rued my consumption decisions.

2:00AM, I laid/sat in bed, hoping to fall asleep. The BF cuddled close and I warned him not to squeeze. Fitfully, I did sleep, getting up only once but returning right away. In my dreams, I think I’d been visited by an animal spirit. Could’ve been the burrito talking, if not, I wonder what it means.

I dragged my ass this morning. I woke late. I ached, I pained. I was hemming and hawing to myself about everything. It was ALL bleak.

After struggling all morning, I gave up the thought of going to the gym. I’ll chalk today up as a rest day.

Instead, I picked up lunch. I was hesitant however I was starved. Walking to the spanish store around the corner, my tired eyes squinted from the blazing sun. The balmy air blew hotly, lulling me into sleep. Grabbing soda and chicken stew over rice, I rushed back. I ate voraciously, happily.

Everything is rosy again. Still fatigued, I stopped my spiral towards a hunger-induced depression.

The Night I Went to Snaxx.

2006-07-24T11:23:00.000-04:00

After a year and a half of reading about Snaxx in NYC blogs, I finally went.

I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t know how I’d fit in.

Like recently after WYSIWYG, I went to NoWhere bar with the gay bloggers. The night was called “Big Lug,” a party for big boys and their admirers. I unwittingly arrived before the blogger pack. I’d broken off to pick up my gym bag at the office, taking the subway up to 14th Street while the group walked. Sauntering in to the bar, a quick scan registered no one I knew. I bought a beer and I tried to blend in. Didn’t take long for me to get a bar stalker, a 6 foot plus scary dude. Rather than say anything to me, he would walk close and present his belly. Pushing the shirt taut with his girth, he’d paced back and forth, hoping I’d make initial contact.

Um… no.

The blogger pack eventually showed up whereupon thereafter I managed a protective blogger circle of at least two persons depth from my stalker(s). I attracted a braver one that at least elbowed me in passing. The party certainly felt more like “Runt” to me.

I digress… back to Snaxx.

I accompanied RoboCub, his BF RoboPapi and our friend, Alan on Friday night.

We’d arrived at the Westside Tavern to hear the doorman warn the incoming male/female couples that the downstairs was gay. That had some homophobic overtones, don’t you think? Ignoring it, we walked through the bar to the downstairs steps. Paying the cover, we walked down into the homosexual den of inequity.

Hmm… don’t know what I was getting all worked up about. It was simply a handsome group of guys hanging out.

DJ Gustavo was spinning some likable tunes. He was switching off with DJ Super Dave, who seriously needed to clean his records. DJ Honey Dijon was hanging out and couldn’t tolerate the skipping, intervening to pick the needle up and reset it.

Notably, I met Vasco and ran into Rod, whom I’d met at my “Big Lug” experience.
Surprise punching me in the chest was friend Oscar.

It was a good time.

FYI, Snaxx won’t be back till Sept. 8th.

Afterwards, Robocub, RoboPapi and I headed out to mr. Black to shake some tush. It was fun but short lived. Friend O believes that mr. Black is over because it’s been written up in the New York Times. While I’m loathe to agree with O, he may be right. The crowd didn’t have the same vibe as the last few times I’d been there.
Pity.

And that was the Night I Went to Snaxx.

BBQ saturation.

2006-07-18T12:59:00.000-04:00

My EZ-Pass statement will attest, it’s been nearly every weekend, the BF and I have headed to the summer cottage aka his brother’s Staten Island home. Though it’s a mere 20 minute drive into the borough, it’s a whole different world.

Welcome to Suburbia, where weekends are filled with barbecue, kids and pools.

It’s a nice change of pace. We hang out on the deck, jumping in the pool to cool off. His brother and sister-in-law appreciate the adult company. The neighborhood kids, while great in number and overwhelming, aren’t much for conversation. Mostly, they scream a lot, leap in and out of the pool, repeatedly, ad nauseum, and run around like maniacs.

Ah youth. Ah innocence.

There’s lots of eating. It’s what Italians like to do. Barbecue is a activity. It has been a summer filled with seared meat. Why slave over a hot stove inside, when you can do it outside? The mixture of danger (fire) and food, very manly and exciting too.

More times than not, before heading out, the BF hits the pork store in Brooklyn, picking up whatever vittle he or his brother has a craving for: Sausage, of various shapes, sizes and flavors (Get your minds out of the gutter, please!), baby back ribs, kebobs, chicken.

I’m not complaining. Put it in front of me, I’ll eat it. (There you go again, naughty minds.)

But while the food is vital and has to be good (and lately, it’s been scrumptious), it’s definitely the act of gathering as a family that takes precedence.

Guess you can’t have too many barbecues.

Whether all this barbecue is good or bad for my body, I reserve judgement till I get to the gym scale.

Loot Avalanche

2006-07-13T13:24:00.000-04:00

Continuing with my boring theme, I've been slowly getting caught up on my stack of unwatched anime/movies.

And… sigh… adding to it.

An order that had gone AWOL in transit, had been resent and received.
So, I'm back to swamped again.

I've watched through some of them. While I totally enjoyed them, I'm left surly because they left off on cliffhangers. Grumble. I'll have to wait no less than a month for the resolution.

Being Boring*

2006-07-13T13:19:00.000-04:00

*borrowed from MacBoyX, without permission. :)

Whilst not rushing around at ungodly hours of the night/morning from one club event to another, things tend to be slow and mundane for me.

Ergo, I tend to be mundane.

Slow? Not likely. I maintain a caffeinated, stimulated existence. Not consciously mind you, but mostly through routine now. Throw in coffee, too much Coca-Cola Zero, Thermoburst™, and MegaMan® Multi-vitamins, you’ve got a fairly potent brew of hyper-activity simmering just below the surface. I’ve been doing this for quite a while. Remember ephedra? I cut my teeth on it. There’s probably very little chance I’ll blow out my aorta.

Add to everything, I’m a carb freak especially when it comes to rice. It was a staple food growing up. I could eat loads of it.

When there’s no clubbing, there’s excess amounts of energy which can make for either great productivity or great restlessness. The week has been a mixed bag so far. Keeping busy with running around in the morning with dropping off AutoLove for 10K mi. look over one day and picking up next, getting a haircut and hitting the gym. All this before getting into the office at 10:30. The gym does the most to keep my boundless energy to a human level. I’ve hit it six times this week.

However I allowed myself to skip this morning.

Last night, I hit GYM bar with friend N for drinks, then rolled to G for another and back to Typhoon for dinner. I mused that living in Brooklyn keeps me in check. Otherwise I’d be out more often than not, more often than is reasonable and healthy IMO.

Heh.

From this momentary lull, a boatload of crazy is coming. I’ll be ready and waiting.

Ultraviolet

2006-07-13T12:20:00.000-04:00

Worst movie.

Ever.

Partial Power (again)

2006-07-10T11:34:00.000-04:00

Walking up the stairs this morning, the elevator had no power, I came in to a hobbled office.

Computers had electricity, one printer did not.

Trying to login to the network, no go. The server was a casualty.

Internet? Nope.

This feels familiar.

When was it… Oh yes, last Tuesday. Similar situation.

This seems like a bad trend.

Albeit, I wouldn't mind losing complete power now. I'd happily go home.

(Un)Fortunately, a new APS and an extra long extension cord, we're back in business. Otherwise, I'd be hijacking someone's wireless signal to post this.

AC is still out. Can't wait for my arms to start sticking to my desk.

Brooding - Independence Weekend Recap

2006-07-08T15:30:00.000-04:00

Apologies for the unintended silence. The off-time during July 4th weekend from blogging just carried over into the week.

It’d been a nice, Independence Day weekend, lots of running around, hitting the beach, barbecues, eating too much, friends and unfortunately only a touch of dancing.

I’d been mostly sulking the past few days about that last bit.

Last year, I’d taken friend M to Spirit to hear Danny Tenaglia for birthday, where we’d had a blast, I was more than happy to oblige again this Independence Day. The inimitable Mike P. of Blather and Bosh joined us as well. I drove in from Brooklyn and picking him up along the way.

Funny moment, after leaving my house and driving many blocks enroute to Mike P., I had to turn back around because I’d forgotten M’s gift. I seethed and admonished myself that I’d become Friend Frank, making a simple task into an unnecessarily, complicated one. And I got lost in Flatbush for a moment but it was my old neighborhood. Even drove past my old elementary school. Yeah, the one I chipped my tooth at.

Continuing…

Mike P. and I stopped by the Eagle for a beer while we waited for M to arrive. Mike P. geeked with the bartender, talking about WoW. Said bartender also threw down the invisible gauntlet, ballyhooing his prowess in Halo. Perhaps a test of skills is in order.

Getting M’s phone call, I left Mike P. to meet up with her and head over to Spirit.

Arriving, clumps of people waiting for other clubs, momentarily deceived us. We thought it would take forever to get in but it wasn’t the case. We got in quickly, painlessly. As an added bonus, we walked in to see Danny standing by the entry. Saying hello and introducing M, we chatted.

He remarked that he hadn’t seen me in forever and I’d disappeared.
I meekly responded, “I was at the Crobar party.”
“Well, you don’t make yourself known anymore.”
I was crushed. Hugging Danny, I promised to do better and we went into the club.

The club was not very packed. The opening DJ was playing some minimal tech house and the crowd was grooving. The mood was thick with anticipation. Everyone sensed they were in for a magical journey. Danny jumped on the mic to wish everyone a Happy Independence Day and with the promise of a 12 hour marathon set, got everyone foaming at the mouth

By the time, he took the decks, we were all ready.

Earlier on, Danny experienced technical difficulties, going so far as to state so on the mic as he called for some help in the booth. Mike P., who’d rejoined us by now, winced in pain as he heard Danny flub a mix.

We’d never perceived these events as portents. We should’ve.

Around 3-4AM, while we danced, emergency flood lights washed over a portion of the club. Other parts were plunged into darkness. Danny came on to the mic to announce that most of the 27th Street club strip had lost power. However, Spirit, our club was the only place still rocking albeit hobbled. Con Edison was called. We hoped they would save the day.

We continued to dance.

Noticeably, the air got thicker, wetter. The AC had been a casualty of the power loss.

We continued to dance.

I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination but it felt like when the AC died, Danny ramped up the energy in the music. This was contrary to what I would have expected.

The floor was slick with a sheen of water. Everyone slipped and slid, dancing around, drenched in sweat, grooving happily, energetically. They were having a blast as was I.

Danny announced, Con Ed was on the scene. We kept our fingers crossed.

Around 6:30AM, I noticed the bartenders shutting down their areas, putting away liquor, not manning their stations. Trying to get to the bathroom, I noticed, they’d been shut too. Uh-oh. Not good.

I went back to M and Mike P., saying I don’t think the party was going to go much longer.

Sure enough, 7:00AM as Danny mixed in the next track, the music cut to a dead silence. Con Ed failed to restore power.

We hung around the darkened dancefloor. Stupidly, I thought, “if it’s over, why don’t they bring the main lights on?”… um… duh?

We waited, hoping for the music to start up again.

But that never happened.

I wasn’t ready to stop but I had to. With M and Mike P., we headed to AutoLove. Dropping them home, I arrived home around 8.

Unsatisfied and disappointed, I laid in bed for much of the day.

Hence, I’ve been brooding.

Botched!

2006-06-29T21:07:00.000-04:00

If it ain’t broke, why fix it?
I should remind myself of this often, but alas it’s too late.

Apple released a firmware update for the MacBook Pro 17“. Surprising. The MBP17 has been a solid computer.

I hadn’t said anything for fear of jinxing things. Yeah, I’m a little superstitious.

I’ve been pleased to not experience any of the reported noises and problems like that of the MBP15.

The update seemed innocuous enough. Better fan control for better heat dissipation and other benefits if applied purported the update text. I’d reasoned that Apple wouldn’t/couldn’t screw up the machine.

So I updated.

I’d used it last night without incident. Kicking my legs up on the desk and leaning back in my chair, I blogged away as it rested on my lap. Hmm… it did feel cooler. Hurray, the update is a good one.

However this morning, I plugged the AC adapter in. I immediately heard the low whine emanating from the MBP.

CRAP! They screwed up my computer. I now have the dreaded built-in isight hum.

I’m nonplussed. I’m pissed.

Sigh. Hopefully they won’t wait two months for a fix like they did for the Apple iPod with video.

Dancing with Apples

2006-06-29T20:50:00.000-04:00

My friend working for Apple Cupertino is coming out to NYC. She’ll be the booking agent for the DJs playing in Apple’s Midnight Mix. It’s a Friday event, from 12-2 at the Flagship Fifth Avenue store.

This is exciting, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It is a 24 hour store and it seems almost natural for such a place to cater to the dance nightlife.

Next weekend, July 8th, she’s got Honey Dijon on tap. If anyone’s interested, I’m down.

Following weeks’ DJs
Roy Davis Jr.
3rd week - Jojo Flores
4th week - Anthony Mansfield
1st week in August - Mr. V

Gay Pride Wrap-Up

2006-06-28T23:44:00.000-04:00

Goodness, where did the time go?
It’s Wednesday. Gay Pride has just passed yet it feels like it happened weeks ago.
The festivities and the parties have ended. Yes, Pride should be lived everyday. But we all need a little reminding, “Life is a party. take part no matter how you do it.”

I’d enjoyed myself the first nights (mornings) of the weekend with goods friends, good music and a fair amounf of dancing. They only whet my appetite for a more robust and full on experience for Pride. I knew the folly of such high expectations, but I wanted a party to knock my socks off.

I rested most of Sunday, waiting in quiet anticipation for Monday morning. By the time 3:30AM rolled around, I was done waiting. I was ready to go. Friend Frank asked I call to see if he’d be up to joining me at that time. He wasn’t, he’d meet me later. Fine by me, less for me to hassle with.

I rode in on the subway. It was a clockwork experience, moving easily from one train to the other with little wait.

I’d arrived in Chelsea around 4:45AM. I was a tad on the early side *sarcastic grin* but I wasn’t walking into the club with the sun peeking out in the sky. It’d been rising around 5:30.

I walked quickly as if in fear that the sun would ignite my skin. I’m not a vampire. Swear. Just a night owl. I have a tan line. Wanna see? :)

Anyway, arriving at Spirit, I breezed in. Club security was extremely lax. Not even a pat down. The will call woman asked my name and she looked through her stacks of enveloped tickets.
First stack, nothing.
Second stack nothing.
Third stack nothing.
Back to the second stack.

“There it is.” she exclaimed. “I wrote these myself. I know your name.”
“Err, you do?“ I questioned.
”Yeah, you buy from the website ALL THE TIME for ALL THE PARTIES.“
”Um, yeah. So how about a comp the next time?“ I said.

No, I didn’t really say that last part. I took my ticket and slinked away to the doorman.

Upon entering, the sound of hip-hop hit me. WTF?!? I headed for the bathroom (it was long train ride you know). The hip-hop music was playing right in front of the restrooms. There were people grooving to the music. I peed, quickly, and headed down to the main floor where I was greeted with the sound of proper progressive house being served.

YES!

Junior was purportedly coming on at sunrise. DJ Escape was opening for him and currently playing. He was having quite a time in the booth, bouncing and dancing around, having a fine old time with the homos. Escape was doing a more than respectable job. In fact he surprised me how good he was throwing down, to the point I worried that Junior would have a tough time following up his act.

Yes, he was that good.

But honestly, I had NOTHING to worry about. When Junior went on, he was on. His music selection was insane. It was relentless, it was inspired, it was uplifting. Junior mixed fluidly with nary a hiccup, at least none that I could perceive.

The crowd had been light when I walked in. Not surprising since Alegria was happening across the way. Still, it was a cute crowd. As expected an hour or two into Junior’s set, you could see the migration of boys/men from Crobar into Spirit. A muscley, handsome infusion beset the dancefloor and the vibe was elevated more as this took us into peak time. Such a wonderful time to be gay and dancing amongst our own. Hee.

I don’t think I ever danced so hard. There were times that sweat was pouring off my body, the tops of my jeans were soaked through. I worried that I’d over-exert myself but doing it as often as I do, I guess I shouldn’t.

I stayed till about 1:30PM. By then, RedBull was becoming putrid to me and I couldn’t mentally fortify myself to stay any longer. I left happy and content. The party ran till 5:00 which some people complained was too early. But I say whatever, the party has to end sometime. I was certainly happy to leave at 1:30PM. I didn’t want to take a train home wearing clothes that I’d sweat through at least three times over, with normal working folk. I reeked. No, that would have been unseemly and skanky of me. The trains were nice and empty in the middle of the day.

Arriving home, I peeled my clothes off, showered and slept, soundly.

I can unequivocably say, Junior’s Gay Summer Camp was exactly what I hoped it to be.

It has been an exhaustingly good weekend. I’ve been a state of fatigue, trying to catch my breath since Monday morning, only getting back to the gym today. My body refused to do my bidding yesterday.

Heh. Can’t wait to do it again next year. Who’s with me? :)

Freeballing

2006-06-28T15:14:00.000-04:00

Forgetting to pack a fresh pair of undies in my gym bag really sucks. Crumbs. After a refreshing shower, I wasn't putting on the pair I'd just worked out in.

I'll have to avoid getting excited by any man, lest they be poked. Hmmm, perhaps that would be a good thing, but only if he's cute and willing.

Still, pointing is rude.

No extraneous, excessive movements, ie. dancing. Chafing would be bad. I did that once, I'll NEVER repeat it again.

Yes, having finally dragged myself to the gym, I've cleared my head and purged my body.

My Gay Pride Wrap-Up post is coming.

Please stay tuned.

Gay Pride 2006… thus far

2006-06-25T19:18:00.000-04:00

Happy GAY Pride New York!

Everywhere, my gay brothers and sisters, and our straight, ever so accepting, fun-loving friends are being themselves, going with the flow and the flow is good positive energy.

Thus far…

Friday
mr. Black
It was rainy and wet that night. I was tempted to go the big wussy route, stay home and dry. During a respite in the rain, I charged out of the house, contrary to my instinct and I'm glad I did.

Second time I've been to this little party down in NoHo. Meet up with H and N, and their friend, M. Lots of cute Village-y boys. Happy Coincidence, friend O and his band of friends were there as well, cutting up a rug. Music was surprisingly danceable, funky and fresh. Nice chunky, hard beats.

Saturday Night
Ok, it was more Sunday morning.
Evolve, Victor Calderone at Crobar.

The usual Friend Frank shenanigans withstanding (ie. say he'll pick me up 4:20 (late 4:38), have to stop at his apt. so that he can shower, have friends sit in car waiting for 10 minutes for no reason yada yada yada. TIRED!), we arrived at 6AM. (Ok, it WAS Sunday morning) I'd probably have arrived at that time had I left and taken the train in. Most likely untrue. I just wasn't letting Frank's antics give me a bad head.

Crobar was packed, more than I'd ever seen it for an Evolve party.
Hard to break into the solid mass of bodies on the dancefloor, but we did.
Nice and handsome crowd. When we'd arrived, you could see the exodus of straight people leaving. It was the gay squeeze as the usually mixed crowd, became gayer in the late morning hours especially for GAY Pride.

Victor was doing a decent job. He'd flubbed a few times which was surprising. In my recent memory, he hadn't ever messed up till tonight. He was using the stage DJ booth as opposed to the house booth, maybe that was it.

Anyway, the music? Good techy, progressive, tribal beats. I've heard him a few times in recent months and it's starting to sound repetitive. I'll need to take a long break from him.

During the morning, we learned that he was only spinning till 10AM. Bother. I wouldn't have waited for Friend Frank, opting to have arrived earlier, had I known. However, that explain why musically, something was missing. I never got fully engaged by Victor's spinning, music selection and programming. He spun like there was an end.
Still, had a good time but not the great time I hoped.

Well, here's looking forward to Junior tonight but I'm trying to keep my expectations low so that in any case, I'll be surprised.

Gay Pride Weekend

2006-06-22T12:33:00.000-04:00

It is upon us. Well, at least for me and my NY readership.

They’ll be plenty of partying happening.
Bars, Parade, Dances, Boats. Oh My.

So many choices.

What to choose?
Choose your entertainment. Choose your poison, carefully and in moderation please.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve made my choices. :)

Pony up the cash. It'll be a great opportunity to ~~stalk~~ meet me. Please, please don't stalk me, I'll ~~rip out your intestines and wrap them around your neck~~ be very upset. Cross even.

I can't guarantee you'll see some skin… oh who am I kidding?… it's pretty much assured I'll be bounding around without a shirt on.

Join me for a dance and a prance. Yeah, I'll prance a little bit. Just a little. Once I get my dance on, keep up or step aside, have a seat and watch. I'll get back to you when I'm done.

It's Gay Pride baby.

I'm officially excited.

Boo Boo Walker

2006-06-21T20:49:00.000-04:00

My new favorite T.

Thanks to MacBoyX. He showed it to me. I had to have it.

Oh… get one of your own here.

Flattering

2006-06-19T20:33:00.000-04:00

When a complete stranger on the subway asks me, out of the blue, how to work out and get definition.

6 ft., about 190 lbs. Young, maybe late teens, early twenties. Fairly stacked with smooth, broad shoulders. Disheveled wearing a black tank, sweat pants and workout gloves. He'd probably clean up nice.

Ironically, I'd pegged the kid as trouble. He was looking at me too closely. I became suspicious, staying wary. I never imagined he'd ask me for tips on how to get cut up.

I'll take the implied compliment, Thanks! :)

I felt slovenly, sweating through my tanktop and t-shirt. Like a pack mule, I carried gym bag and laptop. It wasn't like I was dressed up for Alegria or anything, showing my "wares."

Something must've clued him in. Must figure it out.

My advice… perhaps you're wondering?
Watch what you eat since "working out" is basically 60% diet and 40% exercise. And do your cardio. That's the broad spectrum answer. For specific muscle groups, do greater reps with less weight, observing proper form to work the muscle's full range of motion.

Portuguese Maestro

2006-06-19T18:13:00.000-04:00

Contrary to common sense, I found myself zipping into Manhattan Friday night. The throbbing in my lower back had subsided some, only hurting when I bent at the waist. I popped some Tylenol, though I’m generally loathe to.

However, I was more excited to hear António Pereira, better known as DJ Vibe.

He was headlining at Pacha tonight. I’d heard him many times, opening for Danny Tenaglia and more recently for Victor Calderone. He’d always done an outstanding job.

However, he is quite the maestro in his own right. His mind blowing radio show for Antenna 3 in Portugal and infamous Ibiza sets are available for anyone interested. They occupy most of my iPod shuffle. Hour long, continuous mixes, pure cardio bliss.

Equally exciting for me, I’d never been to Pacha before. Well, technically I’ve been to the space that houses Pacha currently, when it was Sound Factory. But I haven’t been back in nearly two years since it was redone and re-branded as Pacha. So it would be a new experience.

In anticipation, I’d done a GoogleEarth view of Pacha’s neighborhood, trying to assess the parking conditions.

Couldn’t get much of a read from the sky but that evening I’d learned that it was bollocks to park in the vicinity of Pacha. Everything was mostly “No Standing from 8 to 6” yada, yada, yada with street cleaning regulations that would start at like 6:30 yada, yada, yada. Unbelievable that a massive amount of cars would have to vacate by such an early hour. Eventually I settled into a spot that would force me to move by 7:30-7:45AM, essentially putting upon me a curfew. I so didn’t like that feeling.

With the car squared away, I jaunted over to the club, still a little stiff but mobile.

I arrived around 2:00AM. The line moved swiftly. Promising. Joining me on the line were a bunch of Asian males chewing their gum VERY LOUDLY. Not promising.

A quick pat down, security disposed of my Dentyne Ice. *crumbs* I headed into the club.

The club was in full swing, a good energy and “vibe.“ DJ Vibe was already rocking the club. That was good. I did a full sweep of the club to get my bearings and get a feel for the place. If you’ve never been, definitely check out their website. It’s hard to describe but they do a pretty decent job themselves.

I ran into a few DTourists there, whom I hung with for most of the night but mostly, I danced around on my own, enjoying DJ Vibe’s serving of the Iberican sound which I have grown rather fond of.

He teased throughout the night…

Underground, Baby! - Adam Freemer

It was a very appropriate for the night. The party had that missing underground feel I hadn’t seen anywhere in NYC in a long time.

This was exactly what I wanted, an evening all about the music, about dancing without all the pressure and trappings of a gay club outing. Additonally, the dancing was loosening up my back more. It didn’t hurt much. I’d also been using my legs more. My hamstrings and quads were taking a pounding but it was worth every second.

I grew tired of RedBull by 6:45AM and called it a night/morning/day.

It was a great time. Sure there were things/experiences to be critical/negative about, but I’d prefer to chalk this night up as a good one.

Note to self: ALWAYS Lift with the legs

2006-06-19T14:55:00.000-04:00

Friday morning, my back objected to lifting my upper torso. I couldn’t immediately recall exactly when I’d strained it, but it had to be Thursday afternoon.

I’d rushed home to move an old gas-powered refrigerator. It had been in my landlord’s basement, pre-dating him owning his(our) home. Maybe the house was built around it. Made of solid steel, it weighed a ton, give or take 1,500 lbs. Landlord’s son and I moved it out, with great effort, the prior weekend. We’d left it in the backyard, landlord arranging for a Friday bulk, rubbish removal. The fridge needed to be moved to the curb Thursday evening.

All there was, was only little ole me. I figured I’d be fine, seriously not expecting my 70 yr. old landlord to be of any real assistance. He didn’t happen to be home anyhow. On a dolly and on it’s side, the fridge was easy enough to move. “Lift with the legs,” I reminded myself when the time came to upright it. Soon I realized that hefting it into the standing position, would be a near impossible feat. The top was rounded with no way to grip. The sheer weight made it difficult for what clumsy grip I could get, to lift slowly.

No, this feat required one deft powerful movement.

This would have been the right time to remind myself, “Lift with the legs.”

I steeled myself, grabbed at the fridge and with one mighty heft, it tilted off the dolly and onto the sidewalk. Getting underneath the weight, I pressed upwards till gravity took hold of it, landing it flat on it’s bottom.

THUNK!!

I was awash in adrenalin. What a rush! I didn’t feel anything but elation. I’m sure I had a self-satisfied look on my face. I bounded up the stairs and ran out from there for the night.

Guess I should’ve gotten a clue when later that evening, walking around Chelsea with Friend O, I had an inexplicable numbness radiate down into my left ankle. It was probably more my entire lower body but the alcohol was scrambling my receptors.

I don’t want to think I have a jinx before Gay Pride Weekend, but it was around this time last year that I sprained my left ankle AND it was with friend O.

Hmmm.

Well, Friday was a terrible day after a decent night of drinking. I skipped working out and tried loosening up at the gym, to no avail. I suffered through work and arrive home to rest, put some heat on my back.

What would I do?

Well, I have always been ignornant of pain. Why should I be different in this case?

Distorted Memory

2006-06-13T15:44:00.000-04:00

I found my jade.

It’s been awhile since I last held it.
22 years ago I relinquished it.
My grandmother and I found it, loose in a box on her dresser amongst assorted knick-knacks and junk. Not the place of security and safekeeping I imagined for a treasured object from my youth.

At least, I think it’s the one.

My mother and grandmother assure me it’s my jade.

I’m unconvinced, unsettled.

My recollection of the jade is that it was nothing short of perfect. However, what I have is not quite.

There are imperfections, blemishes. The shape is not what I remember. I recalled the jade being flatter. The hole also smaller, more like a LifeSaver®.

Perhaps what’s happened is, for so long I recounted my original jade looking like a LifeSaver. It became one in my memory. I can’t say for sure. The only thing that works in the piece’s favor is I can hear my younger self saying, “Sure, it’s like a LifeSaver. If you sucked on one for a while, it’ll look like my jade.”

The coloration is also off. It used to be a milky white-green color. Perfect. It isn’t quite so. My brother tells me that jade changes color when worn and it hasn’t been worn a long time. Perhaps, still skeptical.

Sigh.

I’ve strung it up, I’m wearing it. Maybe something will trigger a memory and confirm it's the right one. I considered looking for old photos to see if I can see myself with it. However the thought of seeing my awkward, pre-teen self has nixed that idea.

One more thing, it’s so small. Maybe 22 years, it hasn’t changed but I certainly have.

Pouring

2006-06-12T14:44:00.000-04:00

No shortage of things going wrong for me.

Alright, I’m being melodramatic, but it sure isn’t a plethora of things going my way.

In no particular order:

MacBook Pro iSight
Inexplicably, I’m not getting a multi-way video chat icon next to my AIM Buddy icon. Meaning, I’m not capable of multi-way video chats. It’s certainly more of an oddity/anomaly/perturbance than any real necessity that I figure out why this is. I’m not looking to get into any hot, XXX multi-way video chatting, but I like to keep my options open.

Something about the MBP is incapable of serving up the multi-vidchat be it the hardware which would be über-irritating, he MBPs configuration or the network. Honestly, I shouldn’t be trying to test this here at work as the network and internet access are locked down fairly well with a firewall. Quite fruitless. Not to mention, my repeated logging on and off, is sure to pique those who have me on their buddy list.

Door open. Door close. Door open. Door close.

Probably leading to my immediate removal from said buddy list forthwith.

I’ll save any additional testing for when I get home.

Smashing Rosetta
In my infinite wisdom, I’ve managed to crash Rosetta, the PowerPC emulation software on the Intel version of Mac OSX. Sure, a restart sets everything right again, but I’ve replicated the problem. Whenever I fanagle the 3d app Swift3D to work under Rosetta, upon quitting, NO PowerPC application will launch.

Currently trolling the Apple User Discussion Forums for any ideas of how this happens.

It’s a problem in the vain of “It hurts when I touch it.” So perhaps I shouldn’t touch it.

Crashing PSP X-Men Legends II
I’ve replayed a section of the game four times, each time leading to a freeze of the PSP and shutdown. Very annoying. Fortunately, I’d the presence of mind, sending an tech support email to Activision.

However their reply was not well received.

Thank you for contacting Activision’s Technical Support. I'm sorry to hear about your problem. I will try as best as I can to help you. This can be caused by exceeding the number of items in your hero stash and inventory. To correct this:
1. Clear out all items from the hero stash and reduce your gear inventory.
2. Save the game.
3. Reboot the system to clear memory.
4. Load the save game back up and play as normal.

This is absurd. Essentially I have to unload all of the items I have lovingly collected. Anyone who has played RPGs knows that’s half the fun. Forget it. I’ll try selling some off and see if that helps.

Missing Jade
When I was young evilbuddha, I’d worn a jade charm. Shaped like a lifesaver, it led to an exorbitant amount of teasing from fellow children.

“Why are you wearing a lifesaver? Are you saving it for later?”
“It’s NOT A LIFESAVER!” I pouted, leading to more teasing. Yet, I wore it diligently. I secretly cursed my little jade charm.

When you’re a kid, it’s hard to live down. Trust me.

At age thirteen, I received from my mother my little jade buddha, the origin of my namesake. I reluctantly relinquished my jade lifesaver to my mother’s safe keeping.

Now, hoping to wear it again, it’s gone missing. My mother can’t find it.

We’ve done the back and forth,

“I can’t find it. You took it.”
“No, I didn’t. Please find it.”

Frustrating.

I really do hope to find it.

Aural Bug (Update)
Haven’t found the track in question.
What’s worse is, the noise in my head has now garbled what little I remember of it.
Struggling to get it back. Crumbs.

Positive End

Horoscope for Leo 06/12 on Astrology.com
Why won't your plans work? Just as you solve the situation with unprecedented ingenuity, it pops up again in a slightly altered form. Don't give up. The universe is trying to distract you from a beautiful surprise.

OOh… I hope it's something good.
I will wrap up all these little loose ends in my favor.

Aural Bug

2006-06-11T22:44:00.000-04:00

It’s a track I’ve heard within the past year. Danny played it. For whatever reason, it has escaped my memory… until now.

All I’ve got, are the sounds in my head. And suddenly I’ve got the itch to get them out, put a name to them.

As I recollect it, I can remember the sensation of hearing it, loving it.

A peak track, I wish I could categorize it. Deep tech house? Deep progressive? Tech progressive? Minimal tech?!? Sigh. It would make the search a whole lot simpler. I’m not familiar enough with the musical elements of each sub-category of house/dance music to definitively pin it down.

I just know what I like.

This track wrecks me. Now, it’s killing me that I can’t identify it.

Clicking through the virtual record boxes at Satellite Records, playing snippets with Realplayer, it’s easier than going to the vinyl shops and rummaging hopelessly in the boxes. Ugh. And the dust. Yuck. I don’t miss the dust. I’ve got a sensitivity to it. Alas, no need. I can search in the comfort of my own home.

I must’ve listened to a few hundred tracks already.

I don’t even know the timeframe it was released. Arrrgh. Going to have to dig deeper.

I could be patient, wait for the next Danny party on July 3 at Spirit. Maybe he’ll play it and I’ll grab the nearest DTourist, have them ID the track.

Sigh.

Back to searching.

While I'm excited and all…

2006-06-09T10:18:00.000-04:00

… I have to be a stickler and say the clock is wrong.
It's counting down to July 4, 2006 as opposed to July 4, 2007.

Go to the live site here.

Hat tip: Boy's Briefs

Clubbing through unpredictability and rain. (Pt. 2)

2006-06-05T15:56:00.000-04:00

I didn’t delude myself believing I’d find parking near Crobar. Though the weather was miserable, a cursory pass of 10th Avenue and 27th Street, showed the area was still hopping with activity.

Five long blocks away from Crobar, I parked on 23rd Street. Five blocks made longer with the rain. I had an umbrella which I was prepared to toss once I arrived. A momentary pang of guilt washed over me. I hated being wasteful. On cue, a gust of wind snapped the umbrella in half, in my hands.

Well, no guilt now.

I trodded up 10 Avenue, battling the rain and wind with only half of the umbrella to hold on to.
Turning on 28th Street, I walked past the seared meat street vendor to the end of the queue and took my place. A jovial crowd for people waiting in the rain. I shared my battered umbrella with a few guys, along side of me. A handsome quartet, cool but innocuous, we chatted briefly about the crowd, our mutual surprise at so many people being out. We took turns holding the umbrella. Once we got to the front, I ditched it on a pile of umbrellas. I wasn’t the only one with that idea. Poor umbrellas. I moved into the pat down area and picked up my ticket, moving quickly inside. I lost my line friends. No matter.

Moving directly to the main dancefloor, I passed the Bamboo Room. Some form of hip hop or Top 40 nonsense was being played. I didn’t register it long enough to commit it to memory. I’d mentally noted to avoid this room this evening.

The entry tunnel to the main floor was packed. I delved right in and cut my way through. The crowd was young, extremel young. They were dancing in the main thoroughfares. Not too bright or considerate. It had to be the young crowd. No sensible clubber wants to dance in the way of others.

Peering over the crowd’s heads, I could see that the DJ was not Danny Tenaglia. Young face, no signature DT ballcap. He was having a good time, but didn’t sound so good. I’d describe it as, trying to the fill the room with the sound of one hand clapping. What he was playing was monotonous and thin. He needed to do some more progamming, layering and less pumping of the fists in the air. Sure, people were enjoying it, but they didn’t have as discerning an ear as me.

The young, uninitiated club crowd was terrible. They were extremely rude and very, very pushy. I was ready to deck someone. They were putting a dampener on my experience.

Ultimately, I landed on the dance floor, right of the DJ booth in front. I’d found a large group of DTourism messageboard members, groupies, DT fans, DTourists, like me. It was nice to find them because as yet, I hadn’t found Frank if he was even here.

J, one DTourist I’d been friendly and corresponded with some time ago (strictly platonic as he’s straight, it think, more on that later) but we’d since lost touch, was there too. I was happy to see him, giving him a handshake and a hug.

He reciprocated tenatitively. Strange.

After we let go, holding me outstretched, he asked, “Do I know you bro?”
I was a little embarrassed. I told him my name. He screwed his eyes on me for a moment. The look of realization was classic. He screamed and grabbed me.

That made up for everything.

“Holy Shit! Look at you!?! What happened to you? When the f*ck did you grow these?” he said as he punched my chest. It was all very flattering (I think) and cute. Definitely a highlight of my night, to reconnect with someone.

Meanwhile, the rest of the DTourism crowd had a collective puss on their faces. They were impatiently waiting for Danny to take the stage but not expressing it strongly. The opening DJ was one of our own, a DTourist. Criticisms and displeasures were kept to a low roar. He wasn’t all bad. He had some moments where I’d thought he’d breakthrough. But he would squander it, meandering back to mediocrity. Crumbs.

So Finally, Danny arrives (rain/traffic). You can feel the crowd grow anxious as he’s hanging on the stage. He’s letting the opening DJ finish up. You can also hear the sound of the opening DJ change. He knows he can’t just throw a record on in front of Danny, so now he’s working it.

I’ve finally got something to move to.

When Danny takes the steel wheels, we’re chomping at the bit and he takes us right out. All of the evening’s bad things are completely shut out, forgotten. The newbie crowd has also thinned out, leaving the veterans to enjoy themselves.

It was a great set by Danny, minimal, techno and progressive. I danced alot but it wasn’t his best. He had some wildly fantastic moments, where I couldn’t stand it (that’s a good thing) and then he went totally minimal, losing me. As one of the DTourists put it, “He was in a strange mood.” Being an old Vinyl/Arc head, it was fine. We were spoiled hearing him week after week and we could read his moods each time. He was always different, always reinventing himself. I miss that.

Except for “Welcome to the Tunnel” intro into Elements, I can’t name a one tune. Everyone went crazy for this classic. Ho-Hum… I was enjoying not knowing a thing.

Oh, Frank. Never did find him. I’d concluded he wasn’t there. I saw some of his friends slinking around. Figured he would’ve been in tow. Shrug. Oh well.

Fortunately, I’d found the DTourists and they kept me company. J, while he says he isn’t gay and I believe him (sort of) was giving me a weird vibe all night, as was his friend. I need my gaydar recalibrated.

I left around 8:45AM. Tired, exhausted. The rain had stopped so it was a pleasant walk to the car. I arrived at home, neatly at 9:15AM.

Epilogue:
10:45AM… Hey baby, it's Frank, I'm sorry I overslept. Hope you had a good time. Call me later.

Clubbing through unpredictability and rain. (Pt. 1)

2006-06-04T21:45:00.000-04:00

“You know it’s 18 and over to get in tonight?” said Frank on the phone.
“No.” I groaned, the little tidbit perturbed me.
More irksome was the context. Frank’s hesitation was apparent. He was bailing on me although he wasn’t admitting it. He’d called me earlier on Wednesday to say he was all in. Now Friday, day of the event, he hadn’t gotten a ticket.
“I’ve got till 6:30 to get a ticket. I’ll get it by then.” He chimed, sensing my suspicion.
I hung up, heaving a sigh. I had my ticket and I would be going reluctantly. Wingman or none.

In some small measure, I was looking forward to hearing Danny Tenaglia. Only he could supply a proper music and dance fix. I didn’t want to go out alone but I’d get by.

Getting home early, I attempted to get some sleep, failing per usual.

Frank called with further unreassuring, protestations of his bailing on me.
“I fell asleep and missed the deadline for tickets!” he whined, unconvincingly.
“Uh, yeah.” I unsuccessfully mocked concern, rubbing my eyes.
“I have an ‘in’ though. I have to be by Crobar before 12:00AM and I’ll get in for free!” Frank chirped.
This is rich. Frank with a time frame. I laughed inwardly.
“I’ll meet you inside. Later. ” I said, hanging up again. If he was fishing for me to pick him up EARLY and drive his ass in EARLY, I wasn’t biting. I flopped back into bed and stared at the ceiling. This was better.

After showering and general preparation, I headed out at 12:30AM. I didn’t bother calling Frank. IF he followed his schedule, he’d be there already. If not, well, he wasn’t.

The rain was falling steadily and plentifully. The gutter surged to the top of the sidewalk and over it. Water cascaded down the driveway as I walked up, finding little deltas in the dark to keep my feet dry.

Driving was precarious. Even at minimal speed, I was driving thru a wall of water, the wipers not working fast enough. The highway entrance was closed, forcing all vehicles to go on the lower street following the raised roadway. Adding to the driving challenge, the road dividing lines blended in to the reflective, rain-slicked blacktop. My fellow drivers and I cautiously stayed abreast, wary of each other’s proximity. *start sarcasm* Such fun. *end sarcasm*

Emerging on the Manhattan side of the Battery Tunnel, the rain had thankfully abated.

I hadn’t even reached the club and my heart was already racing.

By all portents, this was no night for me to be out, yet here I was. Treacherous driving conditions, Frank being Frank, testing my patience and the Gowanus Canal Drawbridge. I hadn't mentioned that yet? Yes, the drawbridge was up. Who the F*CK is driving a boat in a torrential downpour?

I was being tested or I was being warned. Either way, I’d have to wait and see.

(To be concluded, shortly.)

Hear that?

2006-05-31T20:13:00.000-04:00

Quiet. Relatively speaking, no off-key warbles.

No American Idol.

Summer truly has started. Yippee!

MBP17

2006-05-31T10:41:00.000-04:00

When Apple announced their 15“ MacBook Pros with the much-ballyhooed Intel Core Duo processors, I was reticent. It was the next big step for Apple Macintosh. Exciting but all the pieces were not in place IMO, at least not for me to run out and get one. There wasn’t an assured way of running Windows XP (rumored at the time) and the new hardware was supported by lackluster components (ie. single layer SuperDrive).

At that moment, the Intel chip was only in available iMac and 15” notebook flavor. I’m not a size queen, 15“ is fine but when you’ve grown accustomed to 17”, you don’t want to go back.

Get your minds out of the gutter.

Not to mention, being the first iteration of the MacBook Pros, it was plagued by anomalous problems, processor whine, overheating etc. You probably know all of this, so what is it I’m getting at?

April 24, 2006, Apple finally announced the notebook for me, the MacBook Pro 17.

Sweet, sweet specs.

Apple introduced BootCamp, making WinXP on a Macintosh, a sanctioned, albeit use at your own risk, reality.

Yes, all things aligned yet I hemmed and hawed for a week, before placing my order the 1st of May with MacMall. While a registered reseller for Apple products, MacMall didn’t have a great supply of MBP17s when they finally shipped. I personally believe Apple shorted them. MacMall ships WITHOUT charging taxes in most states and also offers a $150 rebate on the base model. Can’t have a reseller taking all the business you know.

Waiting three LONG weeks, I nearly cancelled my order. I’d had an AppleCare agreement and an additional GB of RAM with no machine to go with, for that long. In that time, Apple also announced the MacBook, readily in stock. I admired one of them, the black one, at the Apple Store last Wednesday and nearly got one. Whew. Thank goodness I didn’t. Arriving back at the office, I did my now customary backorder check with MacMall, to discover that the order was in process for shipping.

Last week, I finally got it.

So glad I didn’t cancel.

Giving the new boy a shakedown, migrated my user and applications, dealing with the repercussions (with assistance from MacBoyX) and installed Win XP Professional via Boot Camp. The system is solid, but I have to admit, I’m continually caught with an uneasiness about it, as if I’ve missed something. It’s Windows XP that has me neurotic.

I’ll keep everyone apprised of my progress or descent into madness.

You know, sometimes when you cage the beast…

2006-05-29T22:16:00.000-04:00

…the beast gets angry.
- Logan, X-Men 3: the Last Stand

I loved every second of Famke's/Jean Grey's/Phoenix's screen time. I tried not to squeal too loudly when she was onscreen. I enjoyed it. It was a fun ride and heart-wrenching.
Phoenix is my favorite comic book character.
Without spoiling the movie for anyone, it had lots of twists/turns/surprises. Think Scream 3.
If you're a fan and know the original comic stories, you will enjoy it. You'll ignore some of the little, niddling things. There are some gaping dead ends, but I was satisfied with the overall movie.
Go see it and let's discuss.

Voltes V

2006-05-26T15:26:00.000-04:00

The bots just keep on coming.

Everyone, please meet Voltes V.

I didn't expect this bad-ass, piece of die-cast to show up on my doorstep so quickly.
HLJ expedited the shipment.
Can't complain.
It's a gorgeous piece.
The original version of the Voltes V toy would be a valued addition to anyone's collection.

But this re-imagining and re-engineered piece has been highly anticipated by collectors/fans.

With great demand, comes great opportunity. The price gouging is pretty incredible, swirling around this piece. My Voltes V came from the other side of the globe and still I paid less (with shipping and no tax) than what I'd hope to get it here locally.

Well, long short, I have it and feeling pretty good about it.

PS: Sorry about another boring bot post. Fret not, I'll be returning to my usual self and reports of my club outings in NY.

Memorial Day weekend looks to be pretty thin, party-wise, but I've got a nose for finding something. Stay tuned. :)

Revenge of Loot!

2006-05-23T11:32:00.000-04:00

Returned from Miami (brief recap to come) to a stream of incoming items.

I’ve been more mindful of what I’ve been picking up in robot collectibles.

Each considered piece, I weigh the coolness (engineering, design), uniqueness and nostalgia/personal connection, which ultimately factor into my need-to-have. Most items fulfill one or two requisites, but fall dismally short on the third. If it ain’t blowing up my skirt, it ranks as a pass.

Perfectly fine by me.

I’d canceled several, expensive, pre-release items. Initially, I jumped at them, pre-ordering at their first listing. I reneged before they shipped. They were merely rehashes/repaints of pieces I’d had in my collection. Cool as they are, they were superfluous iterations. I was also getting (back) in to the habit of getting two of the same item, one to keep MIB, Mint in box, and one to handle (play with of course!). I’d nipped that in the bud.

Sigh. It’s the collector’s dilemma. But damned if I’m not feeling so bad after I’ve calculated my total savings.

Whew.

Here’s the loot! It’s not much, but it makes me happy.

And what’s a week without new anime…

Yah… I know… it’s a lame ass post.
Give me a few… I’ll hit the gym and maybe I’ll feel more talky later.

Checking Out…

2006-05-17T15:23:00.000-04:00

…and checking in to a hotel for few days in SoBe, starting tomorrow morning.

Get me some rays and some cocktails. Recharge the body.

MMMm… it's gonna be so good.

Posts? Don't know. Maybe.

test

2006-05-15T23:18:00.000-04:00

testes

What a weekend!

2006-05-15T20:58:00.000-04:00

Nothing like an activity packed weekend to keep your mind occupied.

Friday
Well, it wasn't off-the-wall crazy. BF and I had a few friends over the apartment to hang out and play poker. Mostly BF's doing. He figures it's a good opportunity for our friends to chill and drink margaritas while he's cooking up sausage and peppers and pesto pasta salad for a birthday party on Saturday (more on that later).

Plus, it's always a good time to play Texas Hold 'Em.

Small pot, $5 to buy in. Mostly fun times, albeit, we were blighted by beginner's luck. Friend R was winning eventhough he didn't know what the hell he was doing AND I helped him by calling one of his hands. Never again. I'd like to play a high stakes game, but on second thought, I'd like for everyone to stay friends. Second round, played better. I ended up being one of the last two players, It got boring and I was playing stupidly. The chip stacks looked even, I suggested we split the pot. Good for me as we played one more hand, for fun, and I would have lost. Heh.

So, yeah, while BF cooked and cleaned, I entertained.

Saturday
Birthday Party up in Pleasantville

Here's the birthday girl.

It was her first birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Fun but as I am invariably the designated driver, not that fun. Most family parties, well, the BFs family parties go on too long. My family? No, we don't party.

Drive home was uneventful and blissfully fast.

No, I wasn't speeding.

Much.

We’d left much later than I’d hoped. I’d wanted to get home and relax a bit, may be sneak in a nap (heaven forbid) before running back into the city.

Saturday night's activity, celebrating, formerly of Oh Really, Brad's birthday.

(Insert pause here because my DSL is sucking HARD tonight and I have to switch to my offline blogging application.)

Now, where was I… so, late to get home, only enough time to clean up, shower and head back out again.

Shrug.

Got to do, what I got to do.

After making requisite meet-up arrangements with Brad and Eddie aka RoboPapi, Robocub’s other half, I zipped in to the city. Stopping by the Robo’s for a bit, I waited for Brad. Once, he arrived, we headed off (sans RoboCub) to the Roxy with a quick stop over at GYM bar for a cocktail.

As seen in HX Homo Musts Section…

Queer as Home
City of Babylon @ Roxy, 515 W 18th St
If you miss your QAF, check out Roxy. The Chelsea megaclub transforms into the larger-than-life hotspot as the annual City of Babylon tour comes to New York, in association with Midori. DJ Manny Lehman is in command - we can't speak as to the backroom facilities.

They done up the Roxy, reminiscent of the club, Babylon, from Queer as Folk. Shrug. It was cute but whatever. RKM Future Boys or as some may remember them, Rubio & Kidd, decorated the Roxy with inflated, cityscape balloons. They performed on stage with their painted bodyart (yawn) and gargoyle-like wings. Fancy. All this, against the musical back drop of David Grey’s “Babylon” into Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.” Cue confetti shooting, shiny, bejeweled guitar props to seal the deal. Oy. You’d have to be really high to appreciate it.

It’d been a while since I’d seen RKM perform, I think I’m good for another few years. Thanks.

The crowd was very thin at first but it did fill up fast, party ends at 6:00AM, have to get your groove on fast. Plenty of cute boys/men hanging around, beside my present company of Brad and Eddie. Plenty of stalkers too. Why do they all have to be “ew”? Le Sigh.

The music was a mixed bag all night. Manny warmed up the crowd, playing some obligatory Top 40/Pop remixes like Pink’s “Stupid Girls.” It was pretty lame. He even dipped back (maybe too far back) in the Pop archives and whipped out Madonna’s “Beautiful Stranger.” Double Groan. But more than once, he musically spiraled into a dead end, reduced to nothing but pots and pans. Twirling music as I call it. If I were a SIM character, I’d have had a big question mark over my head.

However when Manny was on, he was on. Rocking out some incredible body moving beats, I couldn’t identify them, didn’t care to. Groovy. I hadn’t sweat like that in a long time.

At about 5:50, the music cut, “Let no man put Asunder” played. That’s Victor’s swan song. Guess it’s Manny’s too. We made for the coat check and we were out the door.

All-in-all, Brad had a blast as did Eddie and I celebrating his birthday.

Can’t wait to do it again.

Well, not celebrate his birthday although I would, but I can’t wait a whole year. I meant go out again… with the boys. Not that I need a reason to go out, but I think you understood that.

Anyway…

AutoLove and I carried Brad and Eddie safely to their homes before turning ourselves homeward. Shower and in bed by 7AM.

Sunday
I hadn’t planned on coming back into the city, but I surprised myself and everyone else, showing up to Brad’s birthday brunch at Maraca's. It was my first brunch with the boys. Margaritas and mimosas were had as well as birthday tequila shots and cake, all with sombreros and disco lights. Lots of fun and great seeing everybody.

After that, I hightailed it home (again), back to bed. Content on a nice, fun-filled, friend-filled weekend.

Moody

2006-05-11T19:30:00.000-04:00

I've been surly. Work sucks. I feel like my life sucks. No, not because work sucks, it's a complete and separate thought. Oh, nevermind…

To compensate and elevate my mood…

I'd saved two boxes in the freezer.
I've finished one sleeve in two days. It's not much but it's sinful to me.
Maybe becoming a fatty will learn me from being so emotional.

Entertaining the Aussies (Pt. 2)

2006-05-09T11:56:00.000-04:00

Saturday
Draped over the armrest, my legs hung over the edge of the couch. Still wearing the clothes from the night before, I slept burning the alcohol out of my system. I'd been asleep for 5.5 hours before the BF roused me at 9:30AM. Blissfully, I wasn't hung over, just very, very tired.

Today would be an Aussie-free day. We were heading out to our friend's house in PA for an overnight trip.

Long short, fatigued shopping is not fun. Late afternoon/early evening, Iwas fighting to breath. My airway was closing up as a severe allergy attack knocked me on my ass. Such fun. Doped up on Benadryl, Saturday night idled by uneventfully for me.

Sunday
More shopping not by me, but everyone else. My mind wasn't in it.

On the way home, I gently broke to the BF that I was going to Cielo for Junior Vasquez with the Australians. I was left to see to their entertainment as O had work obligations on Monday.

Arriving home, refueling and resting a bit, I was back on the road again, heading into the city. There would be no repeat of Saturday morning's motion sick train ride home. Junior's Master Class was an early party, starting at 8:00PM, ending at 2:00AM. Perfect. I'd set my own curfew of 4AM leaving me plenty of time to rest as I had to be at work by 12PM on Monday.

M and R, the Australians, had been bouncing around the bars. Coordinating with them, they met up with me in front of the Eagle with an (ahem) old friend (they said), and we were off.

We arrived at Cielo around 9:30PM and breezed in. The music was thumping in the entry alcove but there was a distinct lack of ambient, crowd noise. I didn't think we were too early but there was a comfortable crowd inside. Junior was at the decks, throwing down some beats. Fun. M and R were surprised at Cielo's size. The club itself is really small and very intimate but they quickly warmed to the music and the space.

Junior played a similar blend of music as last week. Lots of vocals, but his mixing wasn't on in the early part of the night. He was doing his cut mixes which were abrupt and off-putting. By about 12, he got a groove going and the crowd was seriously dancing.

Some of the tracks played at the height of his set (not trainspotted by me):

For Real - Like I Do (bobby slate)- I was incredibly excited to hear this again.
Solange feat Beyonce - Naive
Hold Your Head Up High
Lovely Day
Mary J. Blige - Be Without You
Unbreak My Heart
Rihanna - SOS
Ashanti - Only U
I'm Every Woman '06
Love Break

M and R were completely floored and had a blast. Friend Frank even popped up, dragging me aside to meet his date. It was cool to run into him as opposed to getting caught up in his rampant, chaotic energy.

Junior brought down the party, teasing "Last Dance" several times before ending around 2:30AM. Everyone was ejected from the club.

Surprisingly, M and R didn't seem ready to go home yet. There were moments when I didn't think they would make it through Junior's party but here we were being led by Friend Frank over to APT. Funny enough, the door person yelled at Frank to keep his entourage together as we entered in dribs and drabs. Seems he's quite the regular there now.

If Cielo was an intimate and warm space, APT was double that. A bit of a shock for me as I'd never been to APT. Designed like someone's apartment, It was cool with a little too dense an ambience for a club, but I guess it's more of a lounge. The music was groovy, less vocal and more afterhours with dark, chunky beats. Much more flow in the music than in Junior's cut up set.

The Australians settled in for more cocktails and Friend Frank bounced around. I hung out, checking out the downstairs dance room a few times. Nice beats down there to and way crowded. Don't these people work?

However after an hour, I stuck to my guns and set off for home. It was 3:30 and I arrived home, neatly at 3:45. Sweet. Shower and sleep.

Next day, I got a text from O at 8:51Pm, M and R were finally going to sleep. Goodness gracious. Glad they made a good time on their own.

Entertaining the Aussies (Pt. 1)

2006-05-08T13:28:00.000-04:00

O's friends from Australia, M and R, were on holiday in the states. They'd traipsed around California, SF, LA, Palm Springs for Coachella and DC, finally arriving in NY by train on Friday.

O had enlisted my input on recommendations for clubby things to do around NY for the duo, informing me that their musical tastes were similar to mine. I tallied a list of events that I'd like to hear. Regrettably, NY club land was dead on most fronts IMO, with untried and untested (by me) DJs playing in the large rooms.

The only thing I could recommend was Junior Vasquez's Master Class at Cielo on Sunday night. I had thought about going myself. Well, I'd already switched work arrival times with co-worker, so it was a strong possiblty and with the Aussies, I had an even greater reason to go.

Still that was a few days off.

Friday evening, O and I showed them around the town, an Aussie-NYer homo bar crawl.

It was my first time meeting M and R. They are absolultely sweet guys, outgoing and fun-loving. They are a trip. We started in Elmo where O and I had dinner, in preparation for the evening's drinking. Two drinks, then we moved on into the East Village.

First stop, The Slide.

They had a Black Out Party. Everyone wore a neon light bracelet, announcing their predilection for Top (RED), Bottom (BLUE), Versatile (GREEN), No Comment (YELLOW, how appropriate) or Pink (BLOWBUDDY). I wore a __________ bracelet.* Cute, but the crowd was spartan.

To some of the guys wearing RED bracelets, PLEASE! who are you kidding?!?

Two drinks, we moved on.

Next, The Cock.

We paid a grossly over-priced cover charge of $10 for what?!? We didn't venture out of the main bar area but was there more? Did I miss something? I'd never been to the original Cock, but I'd heard stories. I'd expected so much more. Guess the reputation is greater than the venue.

The dancers were cute, some nice butts swaying on the bar.

One drink, we moved on.

Next, Eastern Bloc

Former WonderBar space, I hadn't been here in years. Good memories… turned sour. Anyway, love what they've done with the space. It was never a huge space, but they've stuffed enough amibience in it, without creating a claustrophobic feel. Crowded with cool EV cats. The dancer was cute but had no ASSets.

One last drink. I called it a night.

Walking over to the subway was a chore. The train ride home was a lot worse. I hadn't been that drunk and on the subway in a while and the train was giving me a major case of the queasies. I barely made it home. Ok… maybe I threw up a little in my mouth. I just redoubled my focus, getting home to brush my teeth and collapse on the couch in the clothes I was wearing.

*You didn't think I'd tell you that easily did you? But I'm sure you've got your assumptions.

Disturbingly Funny

2006-05-05T11:16:00.000-04:00

Click to Play!

Um… you might want to lower the volume a little.

Addendum:
Hat tip: Mr. Glass
I'd seen his post, can't forget the photography. Only now did co-workers and I get around to seeing Don Hertzfeldt's film "Rejected." Let it be known, that evilbuddha does give credit where it's due and I generally don't go chasing links with the portent of "My anus is bleeding." Natch!

Loot!

2006-05-04T20:31:00.000-04:00

Mailman/UPS dude has been bringing special gifts. Everything seems to come at the same time.
When it rains, it pours.

Here's a rundown of loot for the week.

I don't know what is with my sudden fixation with PVC figures. But it's got to stop.

and some anime to round out the haul.

Bassline Revival

2006-05-01T20:34:00.000-04:00

Thanks to a heads up from a fellow blogger, well, ex-blogger, I found out about this party. Otherwise, I'd have been none the wiser. ~~It'd been a while since Junior had played NY.~~ Scratch that. He played the Hammam party at Pacha, the afterhours to the Black Party. It didn't register on my radar as I didn't have the desire nor the where-with-all to go.

Last I'd seen him was President's Day weekend at Cielo which was a less than auspicious night, party-wise and personally, etc. etc…

But I digress. Moving on…

Friday
Aforementioned (ex)blogger and I were potentially going to accompany one another but he begged off the day of. Perfectly fine. We'll catch up again soon enough.

I was intent on going regardless and going alone. I could have called friend Frank but I just didn't feel like wasting all the excess energy involved with running here, there, hither and to. He is surrounded by erratic and unstable forces.

The downside was that I didn't have a party buddy, a fallback guy. Those who go out understand what I mean. A friend can be a tether, something to focus on. It's been a long time since I'd last gone out alone like that. (Oh that's a lie.)

Bassline was the name of the party which was also the name of an underground club Junior had been involved with before his Sound Factory days.

The club is called The Standard at 150 Varick Street between Vandam and Spring Sts. For those familiar, it's the old BuddhaBar space in TriBeCa. It's a very cute space. You entered the club and are directed downstairs to a bar and sitting area. Wak through that space and back up through a different set of stairs, you come into the center of a pleasantly sized room, very much the Discotheque feel. The room's AC was over-compensating at first, but as it filled up, it couldn't maintain the cool in the room.

The crowd was the usual cast of characters from clubbing and Juniorites. Some handsome gym bunnies, twinkish boys and, oh, a porn star, Colton Ford. Unexpectedly ran into M, whom I became friends with through friend Frank… oops. Heh. He hadn't spoken to FF in a while so I'm okay for not asking him to come with me.

Music spun his usual blend of diva vocal house, mixing in some new tracks like Rihana's S.O.S., you know the one with the "Tainted Love" back beat. That sounded awesome and rocked the house. One stellar musical moment for me, Junior dropped "Like I Do" by For Real.

A bit of history, back when I was a wee clubber, growing into my club shoes, I'd heard Junior spin at the sorely missed Palladium. The party was called Arena. He'd played "Like I Do" then and I spent the next week, tracking down this track. This was well before you could easily research the lyrics via the web. I remember reciting the vocals to Steve Travolta, who'd been spinning at my gym, the DBG on 16th Street, trying to figure it out.

"don't run away from love when love hits… something… something"

Eventually found it, I stopped obsessing and all was well with the world.

Well, when he dropped "Like I Do" at BassLine, he layered it on top of a dark, dirty bass line, unidentifiable until the lyrics hit. A classic moment. Throw in more screaming divas and tracks like "Movin' up" and you've got a Junior night. A respectable evening, not spectacular but enjoyable.

Regrettably, I was reminded why I'd guaranteed myself some disappointment when I went out with certain expectations, expectations not of Junior, not of his music nor of the club.

Long short, club love come, club love go.

I should be smart enough to know this, but I fall for it now and again.

Le sigh.

Unfaithful

2006-04-28T11:55:00.000-04:00

I don't know what he was thinking. He'd left me on my own.
Was I really supposed to wait for him? I needed him. What was I to do?
My head was driving me crazy. I had to do something about it.
Honestly though, it wouldn't be the first time I strayed and if he leaves me again, it wouldn't be the last.

But still, I felt guilty.

Taking the F train up into Chelsea, I emerged and beelined to my destination.
Walking in the door, I dropped my bags, hung up my coat as she greeted me from the back, pointing me to a chair.

She came up behind me and purred,
"How do you want it?"
"1 on the sides. Shorten and clean up the top a little," I replied.

With my instructions, she started to buzz my hair.

She didn't have the deftness of Luigi, my hairstylist at Astor Place. Then again he wasn't here. He'd gone on vacation for a month, a whole month. I couldn't go more than 2 weeks without a cut. I'd be a chia pet by the third week. Luigi knew it. He'd cut my hair as short as he'd allow the last time I saw him, but it wasn't enough.

In the amount of time it took her to shave my sides, Luigi would have been done. I doubted my decision to do this, even more so as she did not evoke my confidence in her.

"I see stepping," I screamed silently to myself as she buzzed on.

She changed clipper heads a few times. BUZZ. BUZZ. Slowly, the stepping blended away.

Whew.

Gloriously, she put down the clipper and finished me off, trimming and cleaning up the top of my head.

Not a bad cut but definitely not Luigi. He knows my head and how I like it.
I worried that this woman didn't know what I'd wanted and I was right. She gave me the atypical (gay) Asian man haircut. I'm displeased. I'll wear a cap for a week.

Bleech.

Luigi, come back soon. I'm sorry I strayed.

Out, About, Up too late

2006-04-26T12:22:00.000-04:00

Tuesday
7:15PM
Met up with the BF and friend K, visiting from SF, for drinks at GYM.
Unexpectedly, yet happily, ran into RoboCub and pals as well.
Imbibed. Friend O arrives, the circle is complete.

7:55PM
Head out for 8PM Reservations at Nooch.
Imbibed some more.
Order appetizers, everything is fried.

Yum… for now.

Not feeling adventurous I have Seafood Pad Thai.
Chow down. Soon, I’m stuffed.

9:30PM
We say goodnight and goodbye to Mr. K, putting him in a cab.
Mr. O, BF and I walk over to Union Square.

10:15PM
Uneventful train ride. We arrive home. Rumble in the my tummy.

11:15PM
BF has retired to bed. My tummy is not happy.
Allergy threshold has been crossed, eyes burn and itch. Great.

1:35AM
Flipping channels between Mega Movers on the History Channel, where they’re moving an oil rig from Singapore to the Gulf of Mexico and Oil Sweat and Rigs, where they’re rigging and lifting off the sea floor the remnant legs of a lost oil rig. Fascinating.

My stomach is a lump.

2:35AM
Tired of sitting on the couch and watching TV, I prop up some pillows and sit in bed, hoping to fall asleep.

Rest finds me, but fitfully.

Wednesday
My stomach still doesn't feel right, precipitating a funk.
I've mentally slipped.
I'm a tired, cranky sod.
I've finally put something in my stomach and it doesn't feel all too disagreeable.
Slowly making my way back.

Evolve @ Crobar

2006-04-24T21:55:00.000-04:00

Sunday Morning, April 23

Simply put, balls-t0-the-walls fun.

I'd been blue-sy all week, melancholy. I'd passed on Sander K. at Crobar Friday night, although I MUST hear him the next time he's in town. Plankton's video short of his opening in LA is HOT, sending chills up my spine. It is a classic club moment.

Hoping to spend some time with some lovely, club boys of the M4M set, to chase my blues away, this time around, it was me inciting Frank (as well, I was the driver with AutoLove.) Last week's good time had me hankering for some more and boy, did i get more.

Arriving around 6:45AM, we breezed in and found Crobar, comfortably full with plenty of room to move and dance.

Lots of good beats served up by Victor Calderone, whose sound has definitely “evolved” in to his own distinct creation. Tech, Tribal and Progressive, all dished out in a relentless, pounding fashion. Unbelieveable. I didn't trainspot many songs, just awestruck by the layering and programming the entire night.

We were moving the moment we got there till 3PM, when he started winding things down.

I've heard him many times throughout the years . This was one of his best performances. Kudos.

It was a great crowd. Mixed in the mid-morning, becoming pre-dominately gay by the end. Ran in many “club friends” reveling too. While it would have been nice to see club crush, G, I didn't let that factor into me having a good time.

Blues have been driven out and after dancing two weekends in a row, I'm feeling rather svelte. Amazing what an 8 hour cardio session will do for you.

Spring is proceeding in a great way. I can't wait for summer.

Shopping is…

2006-04-24T13:28:00.000-04:00

…therapeutic. Expensive too… but isn't normal therapy too?

Picked up a Victorinox Grandfield jacket on Saturday.

I'd originally tried one on while I was in SF. Loved the fit, thought the price tag too high. I'd hoped to find it at a more reasonable price online or otherwise.

No such luck on cheaper, but I still wanted it.

Online searching was fruitless. Not to mention, I'm a bit skittish about purchasing clothing online.

The Soho Swiss Army store had none in the color I wanted. Complete waste of time. Listed as a retailer for Victorinox's website was Bloomingdale's, so off I went since they're website listed no Victorinox apparel for men. I was hopeful that Bloomies would work out. I'd been holding onto a Bloomies' giftcard for nearly two years and defray some of the cost.

Bloomingdales was well-stocked with Victorinox apparel, having the Grandfield in the color I wanted. All that was left was to pay. The courteous salesperson informed me that the card had indeed expired but after a few minutes, had the expiration extended. Yippee. So I got the jacket I wanted AND did not pay full cost. Score one for me.

Then I went to Best Buy and did some serious damage as only I could.
I'd only meant to stop in and check out some games.
I picked up Tomb Raider: Legend for PS2 and Half-Life 2 for Xbox at $20 (WHAT A BARGAIN!). Then I realized that Tomb Raider was available for Xbox and Xbox 360.
Here's where my twisted logic and justification process go askew. I questioned why I would pick-up a game for an inferior system when I'll purchase the updated, newer system soon anyhow.

*Start Slippery Slope*

*End Slippery Slope*

I feel guilty but infinitely better, thanks.

Those old feelings coming around again.

2006-04-22T00:03:00.000-04:00

These feelings that are re-surfacing, I fear giving them a voice or putting them down on paper. Doing either will make them that much more real, giving them credence and substance. I thought they'd lost validity long ago but, I find myself nearing a crossroad, once again.

I can’t make the leap. I don't have enough faith. Is this all in my mind? Am I making it up? It wouldn’t be the first time where I’ve incorrectly filled in the blanks with my ego and inflated self-image.

A part of me yearns for a change and fears it so. I can’t decide what it is I want. Is it infatuation or true emotion?

They’ve lasted for so long but could they be a deeper rooted need? Do I have a need to break free?

I’m living two separate lives, each running apart from the other but ultimately on a collision course. End result will be a train wreck. Beyond, a brand new horizon.

I don’t want to hurt or be hurt. But pain is inevitable.

Way dramatic, huh?

Sheesh.

Would you believe I wrote it?

Mindlessly digging through my files, I came across, traumatically named "pain.doc" which I'd penned summer of 2002. I altered the original content for clarity, removed a personal sentence, but the gist is there. I was struggling to make sense of my feelings then.

Sorting my memory, I remember the 1999-2000 incident, the details of which are seared into my consciousness, hence the "feelings that are re-surfacing," but 2002 seemingly was calm, so I thought, yet I despaired.

Coincidentally, I find myself at that crossroad again, struggling for clarity in my feelings.

Please be indulgent of me, while I work through this emotional quagmire, seeking my true voice, my honest voice.

I'll be back with verve and more snark.

An Honest Voice

2006-04-21T12:48:00.000-04:00

Post is coming.

Viva Italia!

2006-04-17T13:38:00.000-04:00

It’d been a hectic few days with me taking over Manager’s responsibilities. It was trying to stay “on the ball” for many jobs moving through the studio at break neck speeds and deciphering cryptic and nonsensical requests from less than coherent and competent people.

By Friday, I was ready to just collapse. The weekend was loaded with activities, Saturday’s Sweet Sixteen and Sunday’s Easter dinner with the BF’s family. Any added activity would have been over the top.

Being the weekend of April 15th, D-Day for taxes, I was certainly ok with not going, financially since I had to make a massive payment to Uncle Sam.

There had been a fleeting thought of hearing Danny Tenaglia spin with Mauro Picotto at Spirit this Friday night, billed as an Italian DJ tag team night. But with the recent crackdown by the NYPD on various NYC night spots for drug and alcohol infractions, Spirit being one of them, the gig was moved to Crobar. The move all but put away most desire to go. I would’ve liked Spirit, a more intimate venue compared to Crobar, a mega club with zero intimacy and a clientele with near zero class. I was okay with not going.

Leave it to Friend Frank to throw my best laid, reasonable plans into upheaval.

Calling Friday afternoon.

What’s up? You going tonight?
Um, no. I don’t have a ticket.
What? G and I assumed you’d be going for sure.
No, it’s Crobar and I’ve got to get my car before 4:30 tomorrow.
You’re going. I’ll drop you to get your car. Call me later.
Click.

I agonized for all of 15 minutes before I found myself on Ticketweb buying a ticket. Yeah, twist my arm. I knew all the reasons I shouldn’t be going but they weren’t enough to override the desire to go. Still I was guilt stricken but things would work themselves out.

11:30PM I’d been unsuccessful at sleeping for the last 2 hours. Maybe I’d slept an hour before the BF had come in wrapping his cold legs around me, to which I responded “I’m trying to sleep too you know.” He shrunk back to his side of the bed, fell asleep and proceeded to snore.

Bother. I moved out to the living room.

3:30AM I gave up on trying to sleep, getting ready to head out. I hoped to get Crobar by 5ish, avoiding the larger crowd. I was waiting on Frank, who called me at 3:45AM and picked me up my 5AM. Shrug. I wasn’t bothered as I usually would be with his antics. This was an unscheduled and unanticipated night out so I had no expectations.

After what seemed like an inexorably long drive into the city, we arrived at the club by 5:30AM.

Crobar was blissfully roomy. The mass of the Friday evening crowd had already retired and gone. It was surprising to see the club so empty but I loved it as we moved easily from one of the club to another. Frank raged at some of the dancers on the floor. Flailing arms and limbs that had no regard for fellow dancers, they irritated him. We were also dumbfounded by the people that would be standing around, walking with arms folded in their ecstasy hazes. Amazingly annoying.

We’d missed Mauro Picotto’s opening set and Danny was in full swing, playing a heavy tech set following up on what Mauro played. I slowly warmed to the music but I was ripping up the floor in no time. I hadn’t danced like that in a while.

Danny threw down some mean tracks, most of which I did not know. One track that set the night off for us was a fantastic remix of Deelites’s “Groove is in the Heart.“ Phenomenal. So much so that he repeated it later in the morning with equal squeals of delight from the remaining crowd.

Danny highlighted a track, heh, well, he held up the vinyl cover and put a spotlight on it. He wanted every one to know what the track was.

Rej - Âme
Give it a listen, it's a pretty cool tune.

Some tracks I did know:
Cascade of Colors - Ananda Project (always a goodie)
Always Remember to Honor and Respect Your Mother - Dusted (Frank mocks me knowing that this is my fave track of all time.)
Dibiza - Danny Tenaglia/ Chus and Ceballos
Touch Me - Rui Da Silva feat. Cassandra (Classic Vinyl/Arc, Classic Danny)

Ran into a few of the Dtourists. It was good to see them. I was mostly distracted with seeing my club crush, G, whom I hadn’t seen in some time. It was a pleasant surprise. Equally surprised at the amount of club love we’d doted on each other that morning. Sigh. It was fun but I’m a little disappointed to have had to say good-bye. I don’t want to get into this. Double Sigh.

We’d ended the morning with ”Touch Me“ around 12:00. To his word, Frank dropped me by the VW service station after much dawdling at around 1:30PM. Sheesh.

It was off to blissful sleep in preparation for Saturday evening’s Sweet Sixteen.

Happy Easter! But…

2006-04-16T14:47:00.000-04:00

…watch out for Wererabbits!

Into the hills - Part 2

2006-04-14T13:15:00.000-04:00

…and end dramatic pause.

Seriously, could I have waited any longer to finish recapping my SF trip?
With all my dilly-dallying, I may have given the impression I was still in San Francisco when I've been home since Sunday night!

Lagged and tired, I haven't shaken the fatigue. Past few days, mid-afternoon, I've been fighting to stay awake. Totally unlike me. Could be I've got a slight cold.

Work has been incredibly busy. Manager is moving and has left me in charge. Let me tell you, I'm reminded of how it was being a manager… and it SUCKS. Having to wait on people to get your work done is stressful and even then it's not enough. So glad I don't have to do this full-time, I'm content to be a cog for now.

I digress…

I'm hoping to get back on track, soon as I finish this damn recap!! Ooh I rhymed.

That is, if anyone cares now.

Anyway… here it is.

Sunday
It was another early start. We were meeting EL for breakfast in the Castro and he was taking us out to Golden Gate Park today. First, packing up some, our flight was at 4PM. We had to be ready to move as soon as we got back.

We rode the MUNI, (our second time, we're old hat now) leaving us right beneath the big old rainbow flag. Aren't we over the rainbow yet? EL and J met us and took us to a scrumptuous breakfast at Squat and Gobble Cafe, sitting outside, warmed under the heaters. With a hot cup of coffee, it was nice and cozy on this cool SF morning.

J had graciously volunteered to give us a driving tour of Golden Gate Park. We wouldn't have seen a fraction as much as we did. It was an awesome gesture and we're grateful.

Long short: Golden Gate Park, Golden Gate Bridge, Golden Gate National Recreation Park, Sausalito.

NOw that I'm home, I kinda miss SF.

Don't say it.

Into the hills - Part 1

2006-04-11T13:33:00.000-04:00

San Francisco style.

Thursday Night
Did I mention the Castro is really, really gay?

Totally fun though. We’d met up with EL, BF’s hotel rep/friend, and his friends at Midnight Sun.

I was thoroughly lagged and exhausted. I was knocked on my ass by the SF version of “2-for-1.” Unlike NY where you’re given a ticket/chip to pick up your second drink at your leisure, you’re given two drinks immediately. Oy.

Dinner, at Red Grill next door, ended up being a chore of fighting to stay awake long enough to chew my food. Great steak.

Afterwards, we stopped by Badlands. EL was several sheets to the wind and left before we did. We didn’t last much longer than another drink either. Totally lame but I was in bed by 9 for some much needed sleep.

Friday
The BF had to work.

My original plans to see our friend M and have her take me on a tour of the Apple Campus in Cupertino had fallen through for today. So I wondered around SF… staying within walking distance to the hotel. I walked down to the Embarcadero/Bay Bridge and checked out the view there. It was a beautiful day and surprising too since all I heard was that it was going to rain the whole weekend. Guess I stole the East Coast sun and brought it with me.

Feeling a little adventurous, I looked at a MUNI map.

Crossed-eyed by the indecipherable map, I didn’t feel so adventurous.

I returned to hotel and hit the 24hourfitness because that’s what people do on vacation, right?

Afterwards, EL took me to lunch at Zebulon. Good sandwich with good company.

EL encouraged me to eat up, knowing I wouldn’t be eating much later. The BF and I were going out to dinner at Lime with our SF friend K and his bf, M. Lime is a cute place in the Castro and I was glad I ate a big lunch. Good itty-bitty dishes, more nosh than meal, encouraging more drinking than eating. We grabbed a drink in the Metro Bar with K and M before leaving them to walk further into the Castro to met EL at Badlands again. Still lagged and Lame again, back to the hotel by 10:30PM.

Saturday

begin addendum (thought I did this Sunday, but it was Saturday)
The BF had been to SF for work at least two times before me. Besides the inside of his office, his hotel room, the ballpark and random restaurants/bars around the Castro, he’d seen nothing else of San Francisco. We were intent to walk around and see some sites.

Grabbing coffee from Starbucks, we set out on our SF walkabout and it was a gorgeous morning for it.

We headed towards the Embarcadero/Bay Bridge but not via Folsom. That would’ve taken us past his boss’ apartment and he wasn’t in the mood on the off chance of running into her. It was the weekend, he was off the clock. We walked along the Embarcadero, coming upon the Ferry Building Marketplace and Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market. Nice spread and dare I say a much more impressive Farmer’s Market than NYC Union Square’s market.

We continued walking up the Embarcadero and we walked far, reaching Fisherman’s Wharf. Here, for the first time, we both glimpsed with our own eyes the Golden Gate bridge, albeit we were still very far from it. In the middle of the water, we could also see Alcatraz. It doesn’t seem like that far a swim, this coming from the Asian man that sinks rather than swim. chuckle. Fisherman’s Wharf was less than captivating, more like a massive tourist trap.

We cut inland and grabbed breakfast, after which we hoofed over to and up Lombard Street. Quite a breath taker, literally. At the top of the Lombard Street, we got our first cable car ride. It was the best $10 we’d spent. It went through some fantastic neighborhoods. It was funny to listen to and decipher the rear cable car operator’s broken engrish. I’m trying to write it phonetically but it has to be experienced to be understood, sort of. The biggest plus of the cable car was it took us all the way back to a short walk from our hotel, into Union Square where we finished the morning with some window shopping.
end addendum
THEN
I got ditched for baseball again. Well, I was holding out for our friend M to make it out to see us and take me on a tour of the mothership. So I opted out of the baseball game and got left behind with nothing to do. Shrug. C’est la vie.

Hit the gym again and waited till the game ended. By this time, I was getting tired of walking around and all this alone time. Sigh.

The BF returned with EL and we ran out to dinner. We took the MUNI for the first time. YIPPEE. It’s nothing like NY subways but it sure beats cabs taking advantage of/abusing us by always going down Market Street, knowing full well, there were faster, less expensive routes. Dinner was at Home, some good ole hearty food. Quite delicious and surprisingly, priced reasonably.

After dinner, EL walked us into the neighborhood hills off Church Street, showing us some beautiful views, overlooking the city by Mission Dolores Park. We burned off dinner, walking up some damn steep streets, crazy slopes. I’d think twice about driving in SF.

Eventually, we made our way into the Castro for more imbibing at Badlands. We ended our night at The Mint Karaoke Lounge.
Some singers were phenomenal, some not. No, I wasn’t singing. It was a good time. Least lame night out of the three, we got back to the hotel at 12AM.

To be concluded… shortly. :)

Chinatown Hardwired?

2006-04-07T11:40:00.000-04:00

I set off into SF looking for Union Square. Market Street was easy enough to find. Rather than look like a total tourist newb, I opted to just punt around without looking at the map.

Somehow, I managed to find Chinatown without trying.

A NY Chinese guy finds Chinatown SF. Who'd a thunk it?

Do we instinctively know where to go?

Well, SF Chinatown feels like NY Chinatown, smells like NY Chinatown (incense), sounds like NY Chinatown (annoying toy noises) but it doesn't have the hustle & bustle, fish stank, dirty, blackened streets like NY Chinatown.

I liked this intersection.

EvilBuddha go down the hole.
Well, not really. I was deliriously tired by this time.

More to come.
And I declare the Castro is really, really gay.

Left Coast

2006-04-06T15:53:00.000-04:00

When I post this, I’ll be in San Francisco, my first time. I’m meeting up with the BF who’s been there since Monday for business.

As I write this, I’m seated on AA Flight 59, Seat 20F, flying westward. Fortunate I’ve got a window seat, doubly blessed that the center seat is vacant. I’m sure aisle passenger is pleased too.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little excited, albeit tired. Early morning flights are rough. I never sleep well, mostly because of anxious to get to where I’m going. Kind of like before I go out dancing. I enjoy travel. I did manage a few hours but they were fitful and fearful of missing the alarm. Beside that, like clockwork, I got before my cellphone alarm chirped. Turns out, I did NOT set the clock alarm properly.

Yikes.

There was a moment in my hurried morning that gave me pause. I’d arranged for car service to come pick me up at 5:00. 4:45, I heard a horn. Rushing to the window, I saw a car in front of the house. Damn, he’s early! They said they’d call. I hurriedly gather put on my jacket, grabbed my last things and rushed down. The car was gone.

Huh?

Calling the car service, they informed me that wasn’t it and mine would be leaving the base shortly.

What gives?

Too coincidental that someone else would be beeping the horn, before 5 in front of my home. My mind imagined an odious scenario like in The Bone Collector.

Unsuspecting me, gets into a car I believe is for me. The driver has somehow intercepted the car service schedule and wishes to do unspeakable things to me. Ultimately, I’ll be found dead, laid out in the peculiarities of my killer, with forensic clues, all to exact revenge on some holier than thou hero/heroine for past actions.

Yeah.

I’ve got an overactive imagination.

Anyhow, my deadly fate never happened and my real driver arrived to whisk me to JFK. Most of the time, we seemed to be straddling two lanes, but arrive at the airport safely.

After some AA drama, an unscheduled plane switch, people are settled and we’re off.
So here, I sit. I should sleep but I’m eager.

What to do when I get there? Don’t know. I’ll be winging it.
Got some plans for tomorrow, but I’ll see if they come to fruition or pass.

UPDATE: I’ve arrived.

BF jumped me and then dumped me to head out to an afternoon ~~Yankee vs. Oakland~~ Atlanta vs. SF (correction) game. Sheesh. Left to my own devices, what to do? I’m thinking Union Square.

Best Buy Run - Brokeback Edition

2006-04-04T15:54:00.000-04:00

It's out.

Whether you like it or not… you should see it once.
Eliminate the hype.
Keep an open mind. Be objective.
Have an intelligent discourse.

Not your speed?

Try…

No roses stemmed there. Promise.

Lost Time

2006-04-02T21:07:00.000-04:00

While I enjoy the fact that from now until October, the sun “sets” later, the first day’s loss of an hour takes some adjustment. Most of the day has been spent saying “Is it really X o’clock already?!?”

Still, I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day. Cool and crisp, the windows were opened wide, airing out the apartment. Having snoozed a little, I’m currently given to lounging. The hour lag hasn’t been shaken off yet. It is with some fuzzy, residual fatigue, I reflect on the past evening.

A pot luck dinner, the BF and I had taken part. We brought sausage and peppers (yum!). Well, he cooked and I helped eat it. The dinner idea had sprung from one friend who’d thought that it’d been far too long that the “core group” had gotten together.

It hadn’t always been like this, spacious gaps of time before we’d come together again. We were once a tight knit group, meeting up weekly if not more often. We never needed a reason, just a season.

All hailing from Brooklyn and Staten Island even, we all hung out at Spectrum’s, our local haunt. Our apartment was always open for a pre-Spectrum’s meet up and cocktail. We had many a good time.

As time passed, Spectrum’s grew tired as a hangout. Its fall from grace was inescapable, due to poor management, terrible promotion and for me, the worst, an endlessly repetitive soundtrack, literally. From any track played, I could tell you exactly what the next songs were. My musical tastes had grown and I’d befriended the DJ/boyfriend of the owner, bending his ear about experimenting and expanding the track selection outside of top 40/popular music. He’d shock me from time to time and play something I’d only heard in a club. However with subsequent visits, he’d have beaten that track to death, inciting my derisive comments and my refusal to ever return. I still feel queasy when I hear Cher.

So, with no common place to hang out, add to that some infighting (borne of jealousy) with some strong, unnecessary words and some indiscretions, the group was irrevocably fractured. No one incident could be held to blame, nor any one person but we did all sit idly by as our family disintegrated. Eventually, some of us scattered, moving away with family to the fringe, NJ and the group was nearly, never together apart from mainstay parties like mine and the BF’s holiday party and N’s Super Bowl party. Such is the state of our Brooklyn “family” today.

Back to the pot luck dinner.

All but one of the invitees attended, all but one of the core friends.

But… it was nice, really nice. I miss it already. There were new faces, inevitable with new partners, but we welcomed them with open arms.

Much of the evening was spent eating and drinking.

Some of us got caught up but most stay in touch in our own way. However new topics of conversation have taken a techy overtone. Funny, I used to be the only one like that. Now, some of them stand toe-to-toe with me. It’s humbling but I’m still their go to guy.

Everyone evolves. Perhaps our family has evolved. That makes me happy, bringing the promise of new/different interactions with the old feelings.

“I’m not dead yet.”

2006-03-31T10:36:00.000-05:00

Really, really busy… in the process, extolling and demonstrating the benefits and wonders of Adobe Indesign to Creatives, one Art Director at a time.

I feel like Prometheus giving fire to man. In thanks, I'm chained to Mt. Caucasus and my ever-regenerating liver is pecked out each day.

After Black - Alegria Extreme 6

2006-03-27T23:14:00.000-05:00

New York City has been bristling with an undercurrent of dark, sexual energy for a week leading to Black Party weekend. Men from all around the world, flooded in to partake of Rites XVI at Roseland and it’s associated, fringe events. Nothing like a bunch of gay men on holiday, stirring the pot of trouble. Idle hands ARE the devil’s playground.

I wonder if the Blue Store, Rainbow Station and Rainbows & Triangles have finished restocking on lube yet?

Anyway…

I had no intention of going to the BP and as a result, had purposely avoided any activities prior to it, steering clear of it all together.

The only festivities I was fitting in was…

…Alegria Extreme 6 at Crobar, attended with Robocub, his BF Robopapi and friend Alan.

I was excited… but I’d never been to an Alegria after a BP. I had some concerns.

There isn’t much sense to following a major circuit party with another. Plus it was a Sunday night, a good chance it wouldn’t be well attended as well as the men that went to BP, perhaps following it up with Hammam, may be too exhausted/strung out.

Boy, was I wrong.

The boys really do know how to stretch a party out and like me, many of the native NY boys took Monday off as well. Needless to say, Crobar was hopping at 1:00AM Monday morning and I was loving it.

The energy was palatable, sexually charging the room. It was heady. We jumped right in to the crowded dance floor. The men were particularly friendly. One couple patted my ass and grabbed at my harness, yanking on it, checking it was secure. I introduced myself and learned they were a couple in from Denver. Nice enough people. We danced nearby to them and in a short amount of time, I saw both of them diving down to… um… service someone. There probably was no shortage of on floor shenanigans.

RoboCub, Robopapi and I danced close, making sure not to loose each other in the sea of men. RoboPapi and I grabbed a drink and he commented that it was much more than a sea of men, more like a wall. ‘A seawall?’ I chimed. Had you been there ,you’d have thought it was a more like a breached levee with men spilling out, writhing and gyrating together.

I met their sexy friends from Vancouver, WoofDaddy and Woofboy. Simply woofilicious. Walking sex. They were fun to dance with as were their pack/clan of equally handsome friends.

The music was being served by DJ Abel. It was his blend of progressive, house, tribal tech. Also, this happens to be his birthday weekend.

My musical highlight:
First Time - Offer Nissim featuring Maya
Dibiza - Danny Tenaglia/Chus & Ceballos

THE musical lowlight:
"The Wings" (Dance Remix) — Gustavo Santaolalla
Yes, it’s the dance remix of the theme song from Brokeback Mountain.

Yuck. Unclean. Unclean.

Mike P. predicted this would happen. I’d hoped it wouldn’t but there I was staring at Robocub, both of us incredulous. DJ Dudu Marquez in the Prop Room played it as well along with a chipmunk'd version of Phil Collin's "Easy Lover."

Yuck. Unclean. Unclean. Some things were not meant to be remixed.

Beside THAT musical hiccup, the music was relentless and fun.

By 8:00… my energy waned. No amount of Redbull was going to invigorate and revitalize me. I wasn’t prepared to leave yet. Robocub and RoboPapi left before me. We’d lost Alan early in the morning. He reports, this was his first and last Alegria.

The party was still in full swing. I hung around, bopping my head to the music until I was mentally braced to leave. At 9:00, I stepped out into the blazing Monday morning sun, heading home.

Sneaker Madness

2006-03-23T10:37:00.000-05:00

They started gathering yesterday (Mar. 22nd) afternoon. Parking themselves in front of the store with lounge chairs, they, mostly Asian men of ages 18-25, braved the cold. Waiting.

As I walked to the subway, I had to ask one of them what the fuss was about.
"Sneakers are coming out," he replied plainly. I shrugged and walked on.

Two days from now, Saturday March 25th, the Stash Blue Pack will drop.
So for another 2 days, they'll wait in line. I'm sure they've made complex arrangements for people to hold their spot. Today, a tent has emerged on the scene.

Crazy.

There's something for each person and if you have to have it, you have to have it.

Commentaries of the Day?

2006-03-21T21:57:00.000-05:00

One of the RSS news feeds that pop-ups on my NewsFire is for WordSmith.
It's "war theme" week at Wordsmith.

Pyrrhic victory
A victory won at too great a cost.

casus belli
An action or event that causes or is used to justify starting a war.

Hea-V-y

2006-03-18T20:15:00.000-05:00

“People should not be afraid of their governments, governments should be afraid of their people. ”
- V

Being completely unfamiliar with the work "V for Vendetta," I went into the movie with no expectations. To be honest, I did expect a stylish, perhaps noisy, well-made action thriller, due to the involvement of the Wachowski brothers. (While I was very disappointed with the Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions, there was no denying the greatness and impact of The Matrix. V for Vendetta is a fresh start for the Wachowskis IMO.)

What I got was surprisingly, great movie heavy in story and political/social commentary, wrapped in a beautifully filmed piece and none of the heavy handed special effects that we've grown accustomed to seeing in big budget films. I can definitively say, conservatives will hate V for Vendetta.

Hugo Weaving rocks. He's the new James Earl Jones/Darth Vader.

I highly recommend V for Vendetta and I totally want a Guy Fawkes mask.

The Spanish Sound…

2006-03-16T12:37:00.000-05:00

… and by Spanish I mean Spain.

Rocking the iPod of late.

Fav label at the moment, Beat Freak Recordings from which the following CDs originate.

Diametric 2 Tribe All - D-Formation

Dual - Simon & Shaker

Underground Sound of Madrid 2005

And some Spanish from closer to home…

Made in Miami - Oscar G.

Dance Satisfaction

2006-03-14T21:42:00.000-05:00

After two days, with rest/sleep and a toxin purging, cardio session this morning, I’m recovered from Sunday morning’s dancing at Crobar for Victor Calderone’s Evolve, his birthday fête. I’m sufficiently non-scatterbrained enough to recount my experiences, so here I go.

It was a last minute decision to go. Well… not really. Maybe I’d pre-purchased my ticket sometime Friday night, could’ve been Thursday but don’t hold me to it.

Late Saturday afternoon with the day’s solemn activities behind me, I was online reading initial reviews of Danny Tenaglia’s birthday dance at Crobar. The party had been carrying on from the previous evening into the early, possibly late, late afternoon. Incoming reports were that he was phenomenal as I’d expected he’d be.

Slightly jealous. I truly hoped that VC would deliver an equally good time. I know I should have kept my expectations low, but I couldn’t help wishing to get turned out.

There was disturbing news that the security staff at Crobar had been pulling Asians off the line last night, denying them entry for no apparent reason. Though the stories were unsubstantiated and unclear, being Asian and eventually heading to Crobar, the uncertainty was killing me. The itch to dance was great, eager to balance the weekend.

Regardless, all systems were green as far as I was concerned.

I’d napped earlier in the day and slept a short time again in the evening before finally getting up. Readying myself around 3:30AM on Sunday morning, I was on my way by 4AM.

It’d been a while since I’d taken the train so late at night / so early in the morning. Fortunately the MTA was most kind. I caught the N to the D, one after the other. As an added bonus, the D went over the A line, eliminating the need for my last train connection, to get me over to the West Side. Awesome. Guess you’d have to have lived in NY to understand, and be a commuter traveling in the wee hours of the morning.

Emerging out of the subway, I walked the short few blocks to Crobar.

Police cars hurtled past me on 23rd Street with flashing lights, sirens silenced. They stopped on 9th Avenue, congregating ahead of me. A man was pushing another man towards me, holding him back. Avoiding close proximity to the pair, I veered to the curb, making a bus shelter, an obstacle. There was a cadre of police officers closing in on the men. I scurried into the Korean deli to grab a Red Bull. In hindsight, walking through the confrontation wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done.

Exiting, I continued on moving away from the fleet of vehicles, parked all askew.

Never a dull moment in NY. I love it.

Turning the corner onto West 28th, my heart dropped for sec. It looked like a long and jumbled crowd in front of Crobar. A street meat cart positioned close, swallowed everyone in a seared, seasoned beef smoke cloud. Yuck. Holding my breath I moved through the meat fog. Closer to the club, I realized the line wasn’t bad at all. More people were trying to get in on the comp list, then on the paying, ticketed line I was on. I breezed in, no Asian exclusion thankfully, in less than 15 minutes and followed the sound of the thumping beats.

David, from my Vinyl/Arc days was working coat check and let me skip the few people online, much to the chagrin of the security guy there. I immediately ran into Leks, whom I know from the dtourism message board, and his group of friends. He was leaving, having had enough of the pushy crowd, the zoo on the dance floor. He’d had his fill from the previous morning at Danny’s party and stayed long enough to hear DJ Vibe, who was still tearing it up. Saying good-bye, I braced myself and headed down to the main room.

Packed. Absolutely electric was the main room. DJ Vibe had the crowd frothing with his chunky, hard beats. Just the way I like em. The people had been going from the night before and there looked to be no stopping them. Albeit, you could see the change over of people starting to happen, going from the "out-for-the-night" attendees to the "fresh-for-the-afterhours attendees," like myself.

I was overjoyed, just to be out. Even though Crobar was still filled with Guidos This was exactly what I needed and nothing could pop my balloon. Not even the girl who burned me with her cigarette the first hour I was there. I smiled, she apologized profusely. I let it go and danced on.

DJ Vibe was fantastic to hear and I'm glad to have had the chance. Simply amazing, fluid mixing and fantastic dark beats, woven nicely together. His set, what little I caught was a journey unto itself. I surely won’t pass up on DJ Vibe the next time he headlines. Alas his set would end since he was only the primer for the afterhours, the opener for Sunday’s birthday boy.

By 6:00AM, as I’ve read (I don’t ever keep time when I’m out but I felt like it was sooner), Victor took over and proceeded to pound out a ridiculous, driving and body shaking set. Astounding. (I’m running out of adjectives I think.) Victor took us to the brink of insanity with his unrelenting style. It was too much fun.

By this time, many of the guidos had been replaced with the "boys," lots of cuties and "not so" but that's NY. Still, the homos do love Victor. I ran into a few friends whom I hadn’t seen in a while. They kept me company but I was lost in the music, dancing. It was hard to pull myself off of the dance floor. I danced non-stop for a while.

It was my mistake for escorting my friend Jonny to the bar and then seeing him off. It was then the crushing fatigue was overwhelming me. The desire to get home and sleep won me over and I headed out about 10:45AM. Out in to the miserable rain I went. Drat should have stayed longer.

Whew. I’m back to full strength and I’m ready to do it again. Not so soon, but Alegria is just around the corner. ;)

Suggested Listen:
If you've got the bandwidth and have the urge to hear some of DJ Vibe's sets from his Antenna 3 radio show in Portugal… Click here.

Happy Birthday Big A

2006-03-13T22:04:00.000-05:00

Saturday, Mar. 11, 2006, he would have been 70 years old.

Hard to believe, it’s been little more than 5 months since his passing. It feels like yesterday that we were sitting with him at the Vegas Diner for breakfast. He beamed whenever his grandkids were there. Come to think of it, he beamed at everyone who came. To get us to come to breakfast, Big A’d always chided, “You don’t know how much longer I’ve got.” If only we’d known it was so true, we wouldn’t have skipped out as we did sometimes.

Since his death, we hadn’t gone back, not as a family. The memories would only bring back the sting of loss. However, in observance of Big A’s birthday, we did go. It was myself, the BF, his twin sister, her husband and son, little A, the BF’s other sister, family friend JJ and J. Not the whole family, but that was okay. Everyone will remember him in their own way.

It was a somber gathering. We didn’t talk much about Big A but we were there for him. His presence loomed. It was tinged with happiness. Little A, joyfully oblivious, grabbed at everything within arm’s reach as short as they were, distracting us.

One the restaurant workers, H, was happy to see us. We’d been fairly regular that we’d become acquainted with him. He’d come to Big A’s funeral.

We ate quickly and quietly. Little A cooed and slapped at the table, grunting a request now and again.
We steeled ourselves for the task ahead of driving out to the cemetery to pay our respects.

We’d all piled into separate cars but I imagine every car was as quiet as ours.

The day was gorgeous, perfect for a drive, perfect for his birthday. The scenery whizzed by without focus. The only thing I noted, we passed a funeral procession heading the same direction as us. It was just odd. Driving out as often as we did, never saw one, but now here’s one on this day.

Strange coincidences.

Arriving at the cemetery, we stopped by Big A’s grave which was also his father’s grave. He’d wanted to be buried with his father. He didn’t want his father to be alone. The grave stone only bore his father’s name. Big A’s name hadn’t been carved in yet. The BF’s sisters were on the case to figure out why.

In the clear sky, we stood silently, speaking to him. We were close to his earthly remains, but he was always with us. I touched the grave stone. No magical, wonderful energy surged into me, but I was comforted.

Quietly I wished him, Happy Birthday. I wish there’d been more.

Dance Yearnings, March Reality

2006-03-08T22:13:00.000-05:00

My body ached. I was having another one of those mornings. I was grateful the gym had run out of towels. No towel. No shower. No sweaty cardio. Woohoo. Well, not necessarily in that order if you understand me… anyway, I set about a light workout. However, after a few exercises I wasn’t motivated, eventually finding myself sitting at the preacher bench, head propped.

mini me on my arm, Sword Fight by LES from Oscar G’s Made in Miami thrummed in my ears. Momentarily lost in the music, my mind wandered, wondering when the next opportunity to go clubbing would be.

“I wish I was going out this Friday,” whined an inner voice. Taken aback, I was stunned by the voice’s tone, petulant and childish. I hadn’t heard it in a long time. Yeah, I was one of those clubbers that obsessed about parties, annoyed and inconsolable if ever personal responsibilities and obligations had interfered with those activities.

Fortunately, I’d grown.

No, seriously. I have.

This Friday is Danny Tenaglia’s Birthday Bash…

at Crobar or THE Crobar as it’s referred to by some knuckle heads. It’s assured to be a blast. Danny always “brings it” for his birthday. I hadn’t missed his birthday dance in the past five years but as far as I was concerned, I was okay with passing this time. Subconsciously it seems, not so happy but no, this year I won’t be attending. dance evilbuddha will have to deal.

Much more important, meaningful and solemn things to do.

Saturday is the BF’s father’s birthday. We’re to have a memorial breakfast. Afterwards, we’ll drive out to the cemetery and pay our respects to the big guy. I’d mentioned my weekend plans to Robocub and my reasoning. He proffered another view that perhaps By going out, it would be a way of celebrating Big A’s life. Sigh. Robocub’s a good friend and an enabler. But Friday is still out.

Doesn’t mean I’ve ruled out the whole weekend. >:)

I’ve also made peace with the fact that I won’t be going to…

the Black Party, "The gay high holiday," a friend of Robocub’s called it. I’ve got a surprise 40th birthday party to attend that Sunday.

No, I’m not ready to have my gay card revoked just because I’m missing the BP.

/begin sarcasm/ The musical stylings of Peter Rauhofer and Offer Nissim weren’t enough to dissuade me from not going. /end sarcasm/

However, I’m saddened that I’ll miss the possibility of seeing Oliver again, half-nekkid in leather pants, glistening with sweat. WoW. As well as the opportunity to sit and chill with Joe.My.God in the later hours of the party. He opened my eyes to the joy and preciousness of the morning portion of the BP. He instilled an appreciation of where the BP had come from, some of the people/characters, disco music and the ceremony. I’m eternally grateful for that. I would've liked to hear Michael Fierman with JMG. There's plenty this club guy can learn from his disco queen.

Sigh.

Strangely, I was also giddy about dressing heavy. Funny, how I've changed over time.

But as they say, when a door closes, there’s a window open somewhere. >:) evil grin.

Here's some info for any parties interested in… err… parties, that don't want to do the clicky-clicky.

Black Party
The Saint at Large’s annual Rites descends into the Schwarzwald (that’s Black Forest, for you non-Germanic types). Special guest Buck Angel holds the enviable title of being the first female-to-male trans porn star.
Mar 25, Roseland Ballroom, 239 W 52nd St, saintatlarge.com.

Hamman <--- did I mention this? No I didn't. Nope, Can't do it either.
The Saint at Large keeps Black Party insanity going with this afterparty featuring Junior Vasquez.
Mar 26, Pacha, 618 W. 46 St, pachanyc.com.

Alegria: Xtreme 6
As if Black Party weekend weren’t already wild enough, Ric Sena’s sweaty dance floor favorite returns with what is usually one of the hottest nights of the year.
11pm Sun Mar 26 @ Crobar, 530 W 28th St, 212-629 -9000, alegriaevents.com.

New Release Tuesday

2006-03-07T15:40:00.000-05:00

You know what that means? Best Buy Run.
Cashed in some RewardZone points.

Today's pick-ups…

My Neighbor Tortoro - A classic film from Hayao Mizayaki/Studio Ghibli of which I'm ashamed to say, I've never seen. I'll amend that shortly.

Howl's Moving Castle - Mizayaki's latest opus. An instant classic.
I got a whole $6 bucks off for getting Howl's and Tortoro. WooHoo!

Some non-anime…

and "not for me, but the BF"…

X3

2006-03-07T11:15:00.000-05:00

X-Men: The Last Stand trailer is out. Like Patrick, for the first time I'm hopeful.

The previous, teaser trailer was light on visual effects, vague of story, looking unpolished and unrefined. Even the teaser posters were unretouched.

The production looks to have tightened up. The new effects promise X3 will be a visually fun ride. Of course, the story still has me dismayed.

Like all the comic-related movies of late (see Elektra, Spider-Man 2 and upcoming 3, Batman, Daredevil), X3 will overload the audience with too many storylines. Shoehorning one, two or three into a single movie, telling all of them and none of them well. From what I gather, so far you've got The Phoenix Saga (Rebirth and Fall), Days of Future Past story arcs. Each could respectfully fill a single movie alone. Add to that several characters introductions, new to the big screen: Angel, Beast, Kitty Pryde, Callisto, and for the first time, in action, Colossus. The movie hopes to fill you in on their origins, bringing you up to speed to the present? Ambitious, maybe too much so.

X3 obviously isn't about character development, it's a film for the X-fans of which I am one. Still, I'd like to see the X-Men and Brotherhood properly fleshed out.

Nevertheless, I'm hopeful and I can't wait till May.

Fraternal Re-Connect

2006-03-05T12:24:00.000-05:00

After a home-cooked meal, a mix of Italian and Puerto-Rican flavors (simply yummy) at A & M's last evening, I headed home to await pick-up by friend and fraternity brother, B for an impromptu fraternity gathering.

If memory serves, today marks the 16th anniversary of when my chapter of the fraternity had been originally re-chartered.

I say "had been originally re-chartered" since after my tenure as an active member, subsequent brethren ran the chapter into the ground, resulting in the revocation of said re-chartered charter.

Some new, bright-eyed "men," after some fanagling and promises of never affiliating with members that were responsible for the previous negligence, had managed to re-establish the chapter.

They'd organized the get together of current actives with alums.

I'd been on the fence (see, not going). However, B's insistence and an IM reminder from another brother,"Hooch," convinced me otherwise.

I'd strong misgivings about the locale. Originally reported as being in Bay Ridge, the bar was on 5th Avenue and 61st Street in Brooklyn. Anyone Brooklynite worth his salt knows that's Sunset Park, a none-to-great section. Arriving at 10PM, there were some latino, thuggy looking guys (albeit hot in that way), hanging around. Could've been troublesome but they seemed content entertaining themselves, shooting pool.

I spoke to some of the current members, including a new inductee who was nauseatingly young at 19 years old!! Youth is so wasted on the young. Anywho, I (half) jokingly commented on how unrewarding it was to be a pledgemaster or member of council. Like a management job, you spend your time trying to make everyone happy and make no one happy. They (the nauseatinglys young) didn't feel my humor. I proffered this, "This is the time of your life. Enjoy it, make the most of it. If you chose to take on responsibilities in the fraternity, Great. That'll be some good life lessons you'll learn and carry into your future." End sage words for the evening. Imbibe more beer.

The gathering was satisfying. It could've been better if more older brothers from my era showed up, so that I could catch up with them. But it was good to do so with the few that did show up. Definitely took me back to when I was in college. Except now, they're mostly married with children and I'm, well, not.

Extra chances

2006-03-01T22:02:00.000-05:00

He popped into my head one morning. Our lives had intersected and we'd become very good friends.

It'd been some time since we'd fell out of touch. Separation borne of different life paths, it was no fault of ours that'd we'd grown apart. There was always email, still, the effort proved too much for too little return. We simply drifted.

I was struck by a pang of loss. I assuaged my sadness, gently returning it to the locked portion of my heart, from which it slipped.

Breathing deeply and exhaling, I moved forward into the day.

Lunchtime rolled around, I marched myself to the gym. Leaving an ATM, he darted out in front of me in the flesh. In a flash, a torrent of thoughts flooded my mind. What do I do? Do I stop him and say hello? Should I even? Does he have the space in his life for me? He looks rushed Perhaps I shouldn't. I won't.

I didn't miss a beat during my internal dialogue, sidestepping past him and darting into the gym entrance. He hadn't seen me. I sighed in relief. I cursed under my breathe. Why hadn't I spoken to him? I admonished myself. I laughed too. Fate's fickle finger playing games with me. Or did I wish this? did I make this happen? Perhaps, but I wasn't ready.

I let my opportunity slip away to reconnect with him and I had no one to blame but myself. Again, I put my feelings away and brooded. That was that.

So I thought.

Fast forward 2 months to last Tuesday.

Walking from the gym, I saw him again. My heart skipped a beat and a lump caught in my throat. I was given another chance. I hesitated a moment, then I called out his name.

Surprised, he brightened when he recognized me. Promising. We hugged saying hello. We made small talk, catching up with what we were doing with ourselves and our lives. He apologized for falling out of touch. Promising again. Maybe there's hope.

Before the conversation dragged and got too awkward, I figured to part with at least the promise of talking again. Still it was an awkward separation. We didn't have any business cards. I gave him my email. Perhaps he'll write, perhaps he won't. At least I did something and the ball's in his court. I'm hopeful. We'll see.