Easy Like Wednesday Morning

Chet Baker was pulling the covers off my ears this morning. It was easy to slide out onto the patio and welcome the day. Coffee in hand at 5AM I was out in the mild and damp air. Spring is coming when those morning lows are in the upper 50s and the daffodils are earth bound stars screaming from their roots that soon it will stay warm.

Inside I came, booted up the laptop and took in the round of blogs that I read almost daily. I read many blogs even though I comment on very few. It doesn't mean that I don't like or enjoy them, but I like to play spectator and enjoy them without any need for my participation.

I read blogs of all persuasions. I may not even agree with the content, but if the writing is compelling and you can tell the author puts thought into what he/she writes I'll become a fan. I'm most fond of blogs that create original content. Unfortunately most blogs are just content recyclers that post YouTube videos, silly quizzes or links to stories produced by the mainstream media. So I'm a picky snot, but I've always been that way.

One blog I read is written by a Swedish guy who does inspiring photography. No matter the subject I find his work draws me in and makes me think. He often does artistic self nudes, he is a cute guy I must mention, that are sexy but not in the least trashy. Though the one of him peeing against the wall in some Stockholm alley might put some people off. I believe his work to be daring and even John Cameron Mitchell (Shortbus, Hedwig and the Angry Inch) is a fan of his.

This morning I am sad to learn that an author of one Atlanta blog is very ill again. His story is a sad one and unfortunately not all that uncommon. It is written by a twenty-two year old that is HIV positive. His viral load is extremely high and his Cd4 numbers have dropped drastically. He's extremely close to possibly developing full-blown AIDS. Naturally he's battling depression and his blogging has been sporadic for the last few months. I only recently discovered his blog back in the Fall but he's been writing since early 2005. I've enjoyed reading his story and hope that he can battle on.

One last blog that I've enjoyed reading for years is written by an older gentlemen in North Carolina. He owns a bookshop and writes several blogs. The one I regularly read discusses sex in a mature, honest and unflinching manner. His blog isn't vulgar like sex blogs typically are but instead he actually makes sex an intellectual affair. His writing is easily accessible and I bet he'd been a good person to sit have a cup of coffee cool over conversation.

Last year I said that blogs would vanish within five years. I still think they might but I hope the people with interesting stories to tell find a medium to keep expressing themselves and sharing no matter what the future might bring.

As for me, whether it is interesting or not, I'll still hopefully be here typing away.

Not Just Atlanta

Many in Atlanta have complained for the last few years about the dying nightlife or at least the taming of it by the city. The party on Peachtree Street is a thing of the past and the wildest time you might have is jay walking at 10th street. The city has been harsh on clubs that allegedly violate the law, imposing stiff fines, revoking licenses, rolling back the time of last call and so on.

I can't remember how many times I've seen someone from the Fire Marshal's Office come barging into a club at midnight, counting heads and looking for violations. Talk about killing a mood to see some stiff wearing a uniform marching. The businesses that sell you alcohol operate under greater scrutiny than the people that replace the brakes on your car. Where's the logic in that?

Gentrification has had a hand in taming the nightlife too. It wasn't just the city that put Backstreet out of business it was the neighborhood and the residents that go to bed at 10PM on Saturday night that helped end the 24 hour party. These days a bar closes and in a few months a new condo tower starts construction on the very spot you danced to IIO with a Peroni in hand and next to that night's nameless trick. The mother of American nightlife, New York, has also fallen on tough times too thanks to the city government and gentrification.

Yes, even New York has citizens that loathe the idea of going out at night and having a good time. Tricia Romano of the Village Voice tackles the topic and lists some of the new restrictions that New York club-goers could soon face. Like ID scanners before you can grace the door of your favorite haunt. Imagine some government agency building a database of how many times you went Jungle or the Eagle last month.

Let's hope Mayor Shirley doesn't read the Village Voice or you too might have to have a scanner approve your entry into Blake's in the near future.

Kudzu To Concrete

 

Georgia kudzu. Photo by me.

I will be digging through my stack of REM cds this week.

The band based in Athens was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on Monday. I'll no doubt be sneezing from all the dust since I've not listened to REM in years.

The group led by self-identified queer frontman Michael Stipe has since the 1980s been my favorite rock band. Even though they've faded from the radio, don't produce hits and I question their relevancy in today's world they still are a band I cherish.

The group's last cd of new material released in October 2004, Around The Sun, I never bought or even listened to. The last album I have is 2001's Reveal. I didn't even buy that one, it was a present from an ex-boyfriend.

I outgrew REM when my musical tastes shifted to trip-hop, trance, mainstream dance and more obscure downbeat music.

Like I changed, the times changed, the country unfortunately changed and Georgia had less kudzu and more concrete. Cobain was dead and REM tipped their hat to him with Monster's Let Me In. After that I hung on to that album like a warm lover,maybe for too long. Then I gradually lost that connection with my favorite band.

To me the last great album of REM is one many don't like and that is 1994's Monster. Many longtime fans of the band plainly hated Monster for the guitar heavy, rocked up album. I loved the change.

I hear What's The Frequency Kenneth today and I'm back in college, walking across campus in a snow shower thinking about how great sex was the night before with my boyfriend. Michael sang his ass off on that album. Just listen to Strange Currencies and try and debate me on that.

Monster is special to my heart because of the memories associated with it. Monster was the anthem for the dawn of my queer adult life. I learned to suck cock with that blaring in my bedroom. The sex was sure fun but I don't think I'll be playing Monster as the soundtrack to my life between the sheets again anytime soon. It would be Portishead nowadays.

Of course part of my attraction to REM was sickly looking Stipe. I have that weakness for scrawny men that few share. There are chub chasers and I am the opposite, a skinny chaser. I don't admire celebrities, but Stipe is one person I'd like to meet and have a conversation.

The more important reason for loving REM is Stipe's voice. Mostly it is a pea gravel road but sometimes a nasally wrangled warble emoting a tender sweetness. Which ever way he sang you knew his heart was in it. The band's lyrics mostly written by Stipe. I consider Stipe an authentic artist and not a plastic pop creation like say Britney Spears.

I hate that this sounds like an obituary for the band instead of a tribute to their talents but they've not produced a captivating album for a long time now. I fear they may never compel me to listen to the new stuff, whenever they decide to put something out again. Still though, thanks for the memories REM and congratulations on the induction into the Rock and Roll Old Age Home.

For the record my favorite REM song is Perfect Circle from the 1983 album Murmur. Other all-time favorites: Find The River, Nightswimming, Rockville and Fall On Me.

Further reading: Stipe interviewed by Butt Magazine in which he talks about his 'mister'.

That Man Peter Berlin

S

elf-obsessed and sexy would describe 70s gay icon Peter Berlin better than anything else. I watched the documentary film on him and figured he'd had an intriguing past or story to tell, but not really.

He did take all of his own photographs, mainly because he wanted the control and enjoyed working alone.

He met and knew all of the big names of his time Warhol, Mapplethorpe and others. You'd think he'd share some fascinating stories about those people, but he doesn't. He drones on about himself in his own superficial way.

Sure he's sexy to no end. As one person in the film describes him as ,"one large sexual organ." 

No man ever looked better in those red short shorts.

As a gay history buff, I did find the archival footage of 1970s San Francisco interesting to watch fly behind Berlin's back or between his legs.

Even his sex life was dull. You'd think a man that made a few porn flicks, and strutted around showing every wrinkle of his cock would have had a helluva juicy past. Not Berlin.

He said once he came to the U.S. that he never fucked a man again. He enjoyed the street cruising but was all tease and not about the catch. He thought of himself as a street performer, strutting and turning heads. He attributes his lack of sex to his survival through the AIDS epidemic. He watched his few close friends die of the disease but to this day Peter is still alive and well if not a little more aged.

This film is for someone that is a true Berlin fan but if you are looking for an in-depth biography of the man it doesn't deliver. Which is a shame as most of the movie is Berlin talking about himself but he doesn't reveal much of his inner self. He is a talking photograph, all visual.

Worth watching for the eye-candy. C+

The Deep Gay South

Gay Bars Around The Deep South, Honey You Ain't in Atlanta Anymore. Time to put on the accent, Old Spice, Levi's and Hanes Tee Shirt.

Sometimes you have to leave the big gay meccas to appreciate what you have. So over the past year I've been out and about sampling gay bars in smaller places around the South. My adventures took me to Birmingham, Nashville, Chattanooga and Panama City. On the surface there are big differences in these places from gay Atlanta but I found the people to be mostly the same. So if you ever feel a little bored with the nightlife here then take a weekend trip and sample queer life on a smaller scale.

My opinions are all based on what would be considered an average Saturday night in each city.

Quest (Birmingham)
412 24th Street South
Birmingham, Al.
- Given that Quest is a 24 hour club it draws a late crowd. It is located in the southern end of downtown in an industrial area. In Atlanta most bars will have an off duty cop working security at the door here though two cops worked the inside of the club. That was a little unsettling to have cops wandering around the club wearing badges and guns. It took a little fun out of the place. The dance area is tiny but they do have a patio. We love our patios in Atlanta so it was nice to have one at Quest. Though this is a gay club the crowd did have a few straights meandering around. Ages ranged from 18 to 60s. The club is relatively small, think Heretic but a few feet smaller with an L-shaped layout. You enter into the bar/gaming area, walk through the dance floor and then out onto a depressing patio completely walled off from the outside. The crowd was found, everyone friendly enough and seemed to know one another. I do advise if you go don't tell people you are from out of town. I made that mistake a few times and each time I was hit up for drugs or wanted to know if I'd like to make a buy. So just tell folks you are from Anniston or something and not Atlanta.

Images (Chattanooga)
6005 Lee Highway
Chattanooga, TN
- In a word it is small with only one bar. It offers an odd mix of a drag show and a couple of go go dancers. Images sits out on a suburban four lane highway near the airport. The crowd ranged from a few twenty year olds to men and women in their fifties. The crowd seemed very regular and everyone knew each other. Being an out of towner I sort of felt like I was sticking out like a sore thumb but I didn't mind all that much. It only meant that more eyes would be on me than a regular night. The staff and patrons were very friendly and welcoming. If you are ever stuck in Chattanooga or need something to do after going to the Tennessee Aquarium then pay Images a visit.

Fogi Is A Bastard

 This is not a typical gay film. This title does not belong in the bubble gum genre that dominates gay cinema today. Fogi Is A Bastard was released in 1998 and is Swiss so, maybe that has much to do with it being different. This isn't a film you'll see on Logo.

Beni (a high school student) falls in love with an older lead singer of a rock band, Fogi. Quickly they develop a relationship based on Beni's worship of Fogi. As Fogi's band fades he turns to heroin.

Fogi increasingly comes to abuse Beni and makes him his S&M slave. There are several scenes where Beni is treated as a dog and that leads to some interesting fantasy montages. Beni begins a career as a prostitute to support them. He also becomes a drug abuser.

Over time Beni questions the relationship and has some lucid moments where he considers leaving the bastard Fogi. His love for Fogi continues to dominate his judgment and he accepts the situation and never gathers the courage to break free. In his mind there is nothing without Fogi and nothing will end his worship of him.

This film takes you down a hole of self-destruction and you keep hoping you'll climb out. It isn't all that depressing as you might expect there are some light, tender and erotic moments. The acting is also top notch. Vincent Branchet who plays the role of Beni is fully aware of the depth of his character and shines. Frédéric Andrau's acting is also very believable as Fogi.

By the end you want Beni to survive and you'll either be ambivalent about or loathe Fogi. He's hell bent on suicide and you only hope Beni doesn't get dragged six feet under too. At the end of the film you'll discover whether Beni's worship of Fogi is also his end.

Despite the heavy material it never becomes oppressive. I give Fogi is a Bastard a solid B+.

At The Cabaret

Charlie Brown at WETbar. Photo by me, October 2006.

I

went to see Charlie Brown's Cabaret at WETbar last Friday night. It was the first time I had caught the show since they moved from Charlie's place at Underground. It was different to see the cast at WETbar which has that industrial, chilly blue atmosphere that is best suited for dancing and lounging. I miss her cozy, dimly lit Underground digs. There was something wonderful and alluring about the cabaret tucked into Underground since it was Downtown and out of the Midtown scene. It was the best place to be on Sunday nights after the Midtown bars closed at midnight and the party went until four in the morning at Underground. 

 

The new show is also good and entertaining in the location. If you are not in the mood to dance or sit at some bar with your friends chatting about lovers or the lack thereof, then it is a great alternative. 

Here are some photos of mine from the show last Friday night.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

Photo by me, October 2006.

The current schedule for the Cabaret is Drag Idol on Wednesday at WETbar, the regular cast on Friday also at WETbar and this month Charlie is doing a brunch every Sunday at the W Hotel in Dunwoody at 12:30.

Batter Up

Underground Atlanta. 2006. Photo by me.

It was a mini taste of Bourbon Street in Underground Sunday night as the crowds were out until closing at 4AM Monday morning.

I hadn't been back to Underground since Charlie Brown's Cabaret closed back at the start of June. It was then that I decided nightlife at Underground was yet another failed attempt to save this part of Downtown. This was at the same time Alley Cat and Latin Sol decided to shutter up forever also. So I was kinda surprised to see people standing in line at The House, Triple Play packed and to find Irish Bred Pub open and bustling. Maybe there is still a reason to go south of North Avenue?

My reason for coming down was to see how the new parties at Triple Play were going. These new Sunday late night events are being hosted by Christopher Kind Productions and hosted by Brent Star and Alexandria Martin. It features drag with some of Atlanta's best drag queens, Genre amongst many others.

The model for late night Sunday drag was built and then abandoned by Charlie Brown. The crowds are still there for this kind of event as evidenced by the standing room only crowd I was squeezed into last night. Most of the faces were familiar as they were all regulars at Charlie Brown's.

Now as far as Triple Play goes it is a sports bar and is accordingly built like one. It doesn't really lend itself to truly being a performance space for any kind of show that isn't coming across the television. There are a couple of booths in the center, scattered tables and chairs and the bar for places to park your booty if you are lucky enough (seating is limited). That leaves most of the boys and the few girls to stand around and get familiar. It is hard to feel at home with the fact that sports jerseys are framed on the walls while bare ass drag queens are cavorting around underneath them.
It all made me miss the beautiful and comfy confines that was Charlie Brown's Cabaret. Yes, we were spoiled.
All in all the show was good for as much as I tried to follow it and Brent Star is an entertaining host. I see shades of RuPaul in him or maybe it could be the similar vocal tones. Alexandria Martin was Alexandria Martin and that's always a good thing.

Next it was upstairs to The House.

While skipping the line at House (thanks darling divas) I noticed what appeared to be a certain singer/actress and entourage in tow exiting around 3:15 AM. Once inside it was crushingly packed with faces of record producers and football players. My Abercrombie wearing ass was waaay under dressed. My friends and I surveyed the scene and concluded that we were a bit out of our element and passed on the bar and headed back down to Triple Play for one last drink.

Once the last drink was downed and the dancers danced to the parking deck it had me wondering if the Sunday nights of drag at Triple Play will have the longevity of Charlie Brown at Underground. I doubt it will as events and clubs come and go like yesterday's trick, we might remember the fun but rarely remember the names.

The Decline Of Midtown Nightlife & The Gay Community

It has been coming for years but the end is here. Most will think it started with the closing of Backstreet but it really began years before in the early 1990s. That was when developers realized that the land north of North Avenue might be worth something. Remember when there used to a Gorin's at the corner of 14th and Peachtree or when Blakes was where Jock's and Jill's is now?

As I mentioned back in April, Vision will be closing on August 5th to make way for another mixed use high rise. The official announcement finally came a couple of days ago. There was some talk that Vision might reopen in another location but now they are calling their last week Grande Finale Week and saying they will close for good.It's very ironic that Vision closes just one year after completing their highly publicized million dollar renovation. Talk about a lack of foresight.

So another Midtown nightclub gets razed for the sake of a developer's high rise dream. They keep building all these high rise condos in the hot Midtown market but all these new residents are going to have nothing to do but sit at a Starbucks.

Since there isn't going to be any nightlife left soon. The diverse nightlife scene that helped make Midtown so wildly popular is pretty much a thing of the past. They killed the goose that laid the golden egg in sake of the almighty dollar. I can hear it now, these new residents will complain from their tower of glass that there's nothing to do in Midtown once the sun goes down. I wonder why?

Sure there's still a few clubs that haven't been forced out by landlords and developers but most are now gone from the core of Midtown. It is hard to believe what became of "the Strip", the string of gay bars and clubs that were centered around Peachtree and 10th streets. Bulldogs is the only club left on Peachtree street (So long Backstreet, Metro, Plum Butch and the rest). A couple of blocks away there is Blakes on 10th street and WETbar on Spring street. The rest are scattered in Ansley Square, Amsterdam Walk, Ponce De Leon Ave., Cheshire Bridge, East Atlanta, and now up on Buford Highway. Bar hopping is car dependent since you'd be doing a marathon to try and walk from WETbar on Spring st. to Jungle on Cheshire Bridge and forget trying to do it on MARTA.

It won't be too many more years before the clubs in Ansley, Amsterdam and Cheshire Bridge will be history. The BeltLine transit project will probably take out Ansley and Amsterdam when the property they sit on becomes too valuable to let it sit with low rise buildings. The clubs on Cheshire Bridge will go in a few years too. The city has long term planning goals that don't include nightlife instead envision more sterility like you are getting in Midtown.

I keep hoping someone in the gay community will have the vision and capital to build a new gay district from scratch like Atlantic Station. I'd really like to see a live,work, play development built for the gay and lesbian community. It could contain a new Gay and Lesbian Center (since we lost ours' a few years ago), residential housing targeting our community, collect all the gay retailers in one location, be a place for our community organizations to call home, attract the dozens of bars and nightclubs into one central neighborhood and bring all the other gay owned businesses together. We could then rebuild the sense of community that once thrived in Midtown that we are sorely lacking now.

That's my dream anyhow. I wish I knew how I could make it happen

Discovering Leigh Bowery

I must have been living a sheltered life because before tonight I had no clue who Leigh Bowery was and then I watched the documentary, The Legend of Leigh Bowery. 

 

He was a fascinating performance artist in the 1980s and early 90s and made some of the most elaborate and mind-numbing cartoon like costumes that I have ever seen. So many of the costumes looked painful, but they were also simultaneously beautiful.

Like so many of the interesting gay male artists of that time, he died of AIDS in late 1994.

Atlanta Too Gay?

Atlanta Pride Parade June 2004. Photo by me.

T

hat was the opinion of one self described gay twenty year old college student from Gainesville, Florida that recently visited Atlanta.

I happened upon his blog while doing some research on another topic and found the outsiders opinion on the mark about how gay Atlanta can be, but way off the mark on it being too gay.

There isn't such a thing.

He also complains that not enough gay clubs allow patrons under the age of 21, only Chaparral is 18 and up. I can agree with him that not enough clubs are open to those under 21. But if he knew Atlanta better he'd known that most of the gay teens hang out in the heart of the gay ghetto at Outwrite Bookstore & Coffeehouse at the corner of 10th and Piedmont.

He wrote:
There are gay people everywhere. Young, middle aged, old, coupled, single, bearish, queeny, flaming, muscled you name a type and he lives in HOTlanta (and I can definitely see why they name it that). Gayness seemed more ubiquitous than in New York and San Francisco; rather than being defined by Castro St. or the East Village, Gays have poured into every neighborhood in the city by the hundreds. There were few places we went that gayness was not automatically detected; rather it seemed that homosexuality was the norm. I might even go so far to say it was the majority (in some places). Unbelievable.

Editors Note: Actually Fulton and DeKalb Counties (where the city of Atlanta is confined) are in the top 10 in terms of number of people identifying as gay or lesbian (source U.S. Government Census 2000).

Later he writes:
There are gay people everywhere. They say you cant have too much of a good thing, but the Atlanta gay scene definitely borders it. To think that you can go to a different bar every night for over a month (there are about 39 gay bars total) is just astounding, in a scary way. Whats worse is how easy it is to let the gay overtake every aspect of your life. No longer do you have to go to a bar to meet someone gay. Try one of the many bookstores, restaurants, dentists, or chiropractors that cater to homosexuals. Go to the Starbucks at Ainsley Mall (located directly next to an LA Fitness) where 99.9% of the people (barristas and customers) are men who like men. You can sit outside (with like-minded bears, twinks, muscle-cubs, whatever) and peruse the gym bunnies parading in and out of the gym, all the while eye-fucking whomever you want, since every guy likes the same thing you do. Now, I can see the allure of this environment, dont get me wrong. But at the same time, I cant see how its healthy, or even enjoyable.

Then:
There are gay people everywhere. And with those gay men comes even more gay drama, cliques, jugdement, stereotypes. By nature gay people typecast themselves and as I was driving home I still couldnt shake the fact that so many gay men have created a life that is just as extreme as being in the closet one devoid of anything NOT gay. I mean, is it a normal desire to have every aspect of your life defined by who you like having sex with? That a burger tastes better at a restaurant run by gay people, that a gay chiropractor somehow might be more attune to your muscle spasms? Part of the fun (for me, and this seems weird) is that I like things (sexual things) that arent mainstream. But in Atlanta I felt washed away in a raging river of gay! I guess I just dont like extremes one gay club is not enough but 40 is far too many. Its great that gayness is so accepted there, that kissing in public isnt taboo. And as comfortable as that life sounds, I still want something that isnt necessarily defined by the fact that I like to kiss boys.
Being under 21. I cant say Ive ever been so frustrated in all the time Ive been in that category. As I mentioned there are 39 gay bars in the greater Atlanta area. And since I was born in 1986, 38 out of 39 wouldnt even let me in the door. (The one that did was a grungy hispanic place that left me feeling dirty for even having walked in.) As arbitrary a law as the drinking age is, I was still astounded that not one dance club was 18 and up. I shouldnt have to drink to enjoy a place draw a big black X on my forehead. Make me pay $10 more than everyone else. Give me a big ugly mask. I DONT CARE just let me have fun. Why should I have to sit at home just because I cant order a drink? It made for a miserably frustrating few nights, driving around calling every bar and asking, just to hear nope, 21 and up only every time.

Talk about lots of internalized homophobia!

Now once this kid graduates from college and spends a couple of years in the adult, straight dominated world he might change his opinion about Atlanta being too gay. He'll be packing his stuff into a UHAUL and setting up shop in the gay ghetto and find it a welcoming home than many gays ahead of him have struggled so hard to build and protect.

 

 

Spotting Leslie Jordan

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting and enjoying the strippers at Swinging Richards when in walks Leslie Jordan (Will & Grace amongst other things). He comes in with someone else (personal assistant perhaps) and sits down two tables over.

I knew he was in town for months with his play, Like a Dog on Linoleum, but I'd yet to run into him at any of the bars. I assumed that I would sooner or later since I knew that he certainly enjoyed the nightlife, especially Atlanta's.

Leslie lived here during the 70's and was a resident of the notorious Pershing Point Apartments, our version of the Chelsea Hotel in New York City. His time in Midtown was the story behind his play Lost in the Pershing Point Hotel.
As I later learned, tonight was his last night in town before he headed to San Francisco with his show. I also learned that he wouldn't be headed homeward alone.

It turns out that he had developed a certain fondness for one of the "entertainers" at Swinging Richards and that this person was now his new boy toy according to my very reliable source at the club. The dancer who I'll call "Pelvic Thrust" for it certainly fits the style of stage humping and pole dancing that he was known for wowing the crowds. Pelvic Thrust wasn't performing this night and I had asked where he was and that was how I'd learned that he now was only performing for Leslie on command.

After a few minutes of watching the boys on stage Leslie headed back to the VIP area and wasn't seen again. His personal assistant was left alone to drink and watch the show. Having spent plenty of time personally in the VIP area, but not in a private room back there mind you, I know what's available on the other side of the wall and it isn't a better view.

It would appear that the man who was blown off his balcony in the last episode of Will & Grace has landed in the arms of a young Georgia Peach.

Miss Swinging Richards Pageant 2006

Charlie Brown performing at Charlie Brown's Cabaret at Underground Atlanta. Photo by me, May 2006.

 

Last night at Underground was the Miss Swinging Richards Pageant. It was hosted at Charlie Brown's Cabaret. Charlie performed and served as the emcee for the competition between the six contestants.

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

My favorite performance of the night belonged to Sonique. She channeled Madonna as she performed one of my favorite Madonna songs, Open Your Heart.

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Alexandria Martin again was her typical over-the top-comical self (my kind of drag and the best thing going in Atlanta drag) but her Muppet sketch did fall flat with the crowd. I adore Alexandria and Sonique so I am partial to both of them.

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

Photo by me, May 2006

The winner was Amaya Black. She put on a show with those painful looking splits during her performance.

Fabulous Fourth

The 2T-Fruity party at the Abbey on this past Sunday night was "abbey-solutely" awesome. This was my truest moment ever to being in a real-life Queer As Folk episode. The hundreds of too perfectly chiseled shirtless men dancing in this one-time church with cathedral ceilings was heaven and the hottest party Atlanta has hosted this summer. Nothing from Pride could compare to what went down by this party hosted by WEPA and Volume Productions (cool website).

DJ Escape kept us moving, sweating and feeling the pulse of the music and it was capped off by a performance by Tamyra (can't say I know her but she can sing).

The party lasted until 3AM then it was off to the after-party.

The after party was at Club X on Spring Street. This was my first time at Club X.

That stretch of Spring Street is a wee bit seedy so walking from the pay lot down the street to the entrance was interesting. But once inside Club X turned out to be a different space amongst the other gay clubs in Atlanta. It has a large raised circular bar off to the left with table and chairs on the right. You then proceed to the dance floor which is the blackest space I've seen to dance on ever and if you can find your way across the room you eventually come to another long bar against the back wall.

The DJ was good at mixing and the lights were okay. They only seem to use neon green lazers here so I felt like I was in a Atari video game something akin to Space Invaders.

The crowd got the place jumping as many from the Abbey made it over to Club X and some new faces were filtered in amongst us too. I danced for a couple of hours, tanked up on bottled water and made it out onto the street around 6AM with the party still raging on inside.

This just proves to me that Atlanta boys know how to party well after the alcohol gets shut off at 2:30AM. If you throw it, they will come and may never leave.

Strange To Be Me

Whoever I am now is not the same person that I was last year. I may not be any better and I might be worse but who's to say? It is strange to be me.

Today I pulled out R.E.M.'s Monster CD from 1994. Of course that is an instant reminder of me ten years ago. Where I stood, who I knew, and what I felt and thought. I was meeting my first boyfriend, enduring a cold winter by Georgia standards, and buried in mounds of poetry. That was a much different me than what is sitting here today typing this. I was 21 and I knew very little about the world and life. That 21 year old is a foreign person to me today.

Ten years and I've added age, a little wisdom, a better suit of experiences, torn down a few walls and thankfully given up writting poetry. I was still a big R.E.M. fan back then. What's the Frequency Kenneth was my song and I considered Michael Stipe to be a hot guy, my opinion of Stipe has since changed. This was the last good CD that R.E.M. ever released. I completely gave them up after the 2001 release of Reveal. It only revealed to me that the both two of us were going in different directions in life. R.E.M. was now reduced to collecting dust in a cabinet instead of following me from the car to home and back.

That first boyfriend of mine was gone too. He had grown facial hair, lowered his voice and gone butch. I decided asian men were to my liking and chose to permanently hop on board the Orient Express.

R.E.M. is back with a new single, Leaving New York. They've released the song to radio, appeared on Andersen Cooper's 360, and I've yet to pay attention or care. I'd rather go dig through the new releases at DanceRecords.com than hear my favorite band from long ago. Today though as Monster played along track to track I finally understood one song more now than ever. Stange Currencies took on a new meaning. It went from being a muddled, misunderstood, brooding love song to a song about failure, blind attempts at success despite the odds and resolve.

I'm in a strange place with a stranger looking back at me and I'm dealing with my own strange currencies. I've got my own failures circulating out there in the general populace today but I'm still trying because I like the game, the challenge, and I want to keep dealing in my own peculiar currency. Like it or leave it. It is strange to be me and I'm trying to build a better one.

Another Atlanta Gay Casualty

 

The Atlanta Gay and Lesbian Center (AGLC) founded in 1976, one of the oldest in the United States, may soon be just a part of Atlanta's gay past. The center is facing financial hardship, is in need of donations and the property owner has put the property on 11th street up for sale.

The AGLC cites lack of public support for the financial crisis and says that donations that once were $50,000 a year are down to zero.

A fundraiser is being planned by the center to help raise an infusion of money. This might save the place where gay Atlanta came to learn about AIDS in the early 1980's, and sought testing and counseling for HIV until last year when funding from Fulton County was stripped in an effort to save the county money.

Support groups are currently using space at the AGLC for meetings.

 

Basically without support from our own community another piece of Atlanta gay life is about to vanish and there will be one less advocate on the block for the gay and lesbian community. That's a shame that our people can't support such a worthy cause and invest in our own community. If the AGLC closes I suspect another work of urban renewal will replace the house that was once our place, our house that supported so many in need.

People like me. 

The first time I was ever tested for HIV, in 1995, was at the AGLC. It was a scary experience even though I was 99.9% sure that I was HIV negative. But the staff at the center were kind to this newbie and it was comforting to be greeted and counseled by those like me, someone that understood what it was like to be a young, gay man in the gay capital of the south in the 1990s.

My first experience if it had been at some regular health clinic would not have been so pleasant or comforting. It would have been a cold, florescent lit, uncaring place. A place where the staff was not like me, could not relate and honestly would not have cared one way or the other. They would have wanted my money and then pushed me out the door to fend for myself.
It wasn't that way for me. I had the AGLC and they cared. 

Now is time to return the favor.

Flux

I was reading another person's blog the other day and he was discussing the fact that thoughts and photographs are similar in that they are permanent. I agreed in his comments section that they are indeed similar, but disagreed on the subject of them being permanent. 

 

Neither of the two are permanent. Thoughts come and go and vanish faster than you can read this. Photographs fade, and eventually turn to dust if they do not get lost or destroyed in some other manner. Photos may indeed outlast the lifespan of the subject of the photo, but again they do not last forever.

The author of the blog responded by saying that photos are "pretty permanent."

I still disagree and don't see his logic.

 
Either way, this started me thinking about the fact that nothing lasts forever. People, places, cars, memories, language, pets, shoes, the planet, love and yes, even thoughts and photos eventually change. If everything is capable of change then it is not permanent.

When I began looking into Buddhism I discovered that Buddhists believe that all is in flux. This means that nothing stays the same. Everything changes and is always in the state of changing to something else. I agree and I found it rather eye-opening.

Think about it. You are not the same as you were yesterday, when you were two years old or when you woke up this morning. We change constantly. So if you agree with that, you must accept that your thoughts change and that objects change too. 

If you accept the idea that all is in flux then you learn that nothing is permanent. Since being permanent means that it does not change, it remains that way forever. Which of course isn't possible. 

The belief in permanence may create warm, fuzzy feelings and may be romantic, but it is naive. Even those warm, fuzzy feelings will soon pass and romance will come and go just as we die.

That naivete will stop you from enjoying what is there for you today.  Live in the moment and have hope for the future.

Hiding In Plain Sight

Of late I have been interested in learning more about the gay and lesbian history of Atlanta. On the web there is little to be had so I have learned. It seems that our little gay minds are not interested much in the past and we are more ready to shop, hook up or look at porn online than anything else. I guess I cannot blame people, I have engaged in all that myself.

Richard Evans Lee was kind enough to forward me a link to a site that did begin to help in my search for information about gay Atlanta history. Thank you, Richard.

After that I decided to visit the Southern Voice (SoVo) site and after scrolling to the bottom of the page I found a recent article about an upcoming exhibit at the Atlanta History Center that is focused on the gay and lesbian history of Atlanta. 

 

Voila! Finally something to get excited about.

The exhibit is to be called Atlanta's Unspoken Past. The history center has been gathering material for this collection since 1991 and even had a booth set up at Pride this year. Somehow I missed it.

According to the SoVo article the history center will spend the next year interviewing older men and women to provide an oral history component to the exhibit. The exhibit is expected to open in May 2005 and run through July of next year.

I am thrilled to see this happening. I have been wanting to know more about the Atlanta gay and lesbian community of the past. I want to know their struggles, joys, what the city was like, how attitudes were then and how they've changed.

Bravo to the Atlanta History Center for taking on this endeavor.