Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Luau, no-how!

I thought a Luau is what one does in Hawaii. I’ve always imagined an intimate sort of affair outside on a beach, waves crashing behind the few of us gathered around a big boar roasting on a slowly turning spit as native Hawaiians blow conches and toss flaming torches around while hula girls dance in grass skirts and then pass around the purple poi. I was wrong.

Imagine my horror when we arrive at Hiva Pasefika ("Kauai's #1 Luau!") to join a thousand tourists all wearing hibiscus print Hawaiian shirts (believe it or not these hideous items are actually worn here. Mixed and matched even--pineapple print up top, and guitar print bermuda short to go with? No problem! Yeah, it's unbelievable). Soon all thousand of us are summoned into a gigantic white wedding tent planted on a parking lot.




Casper and Mich at the Luau. We didn't stay for the show.


Forget romantic notions of Bali Hi, honey, it was a convention style family feeding frenzy in a parking lot. “What a waste of perfectly good asphalt," muses Mich, and we head to the bar because at least it was included. Except you had to wait in an endless line with the thousand hibiscus print tourists. And then, they tell us, we're only allowed one drink at a time.

“This is some kind of a scam,” says Mich, before he spots a Hawaiian hula boy with a huge pitcher of what looks to be Mai-Tai. “Over here!” hails Mich, waving, and the kid rushes over. Mich tosses the leftover ice from his empty water glass onto the ground and shoves his cup at the pitcher. “I have a drinking problem!” he squeals.

“But this is only juice,” says Hula boy and that was it. We leave. On the way out, Mich groans as he picks up his phone. “I'm calling the Better Business Bureau about this place."

Monday, May 28, 2007

A Finger for Flipper

There's a good reason Idaho has no access to the ocean.

On Waikiki beach we met several fun folks from Idaho Falls, Idaho. So fun, we are currently hijacking their vacation. They told us about the “Dolphin Discovery” excursion they took, and I’m envious. “Can you touch the dolphins?” I ask. “Oh sure,” says a native Idahoan named Laurie. “They’re so playful,” she gushes. “You can touch them, kiss them, even play with their private parts.”

Hold on a second.

"You jerked off the dolphins?" I ask, and Laurie says oh-no. Apart from mating season, dolphin genitalia is internal; you can only tell apart the male and females because the male genitalia resembles an exclamation point (!), while female genitalia resembles a division sign (÷). But Laurie is getting ahead of herself. Wait, I ask, please back up. Let me get this right.

“So you... fingered the dolphins?” I ask, and Laurie blushes. “Just a little bit.”

What does she mean by just a little bit? "Well," answers Laurie matter of fact. "I only had a half hour in the pool with them."

That's it. By now I am completely beside myself (which is my favorite position), but Laurie soldiers on. She doesn't feel too guilty, she says, because other tourists were doing it much more than she was. Dolphin discovery, indeed.

Somewhere underwater, dolphins are demanding their dignity back. "I can’t believe you're an animal molester!" I accuse, and Laurie shoots back. “I'm not...I’m actually an animal lover.” Uh-huh. That’s what they all say.

Liquid Paradise

Our executive producer Mich Lyon got us to Hawaii for the Honolulu film festival. Since then, he has spared no expense to fulfill those tropical paradise dreams full of leis and mai-tais. Emphasis on the mai-tais. I’ve been drinking non-stop since I got here.



Mai, oh Mai...here we go again!















The other morning I had to do something about it, so awoke at 7am and tiptoed out of bed to put on my running shoes. I'm sharing a room with director Casper Andreas who heard me getting up. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked, removing his eye coverlet.

“I’m going running,” I whisper. ‘I’ve GOT to do something healthy before Mich gets up and wants to go drinking!” Casper understood. He threw back his covers and jumped out of bed. “I’m going with you, too!”

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

The Interview

Who is chomping at the bit to know how the "Blow Job Educator" interview (from two posts ago) went!? Well....Blair said I sounded like a great candidate, and that now I have to come in for the in-person interview. She said her class is fun, aimed at empowering women in the bedroom. At the in-person interview, I'd have to demonstrate 3 hand techniques, and 3 oral techniques. I'm presuming they can be combined, right?

Frankly, ladies, with the hand job--the key is to see how your man does it, and do your best to imitate. As for the oral section, the key for me has always been "cram it all in." Okay, that's not gonna win me the job, so I've been thinking:

-the twist and bl0w
-the head massage
-lick up and down the shaft like a corn on the cob

Feel free to fill me in with your success stories. I'm going to Hawaii and then Dallas with my film (yee-haw!) until June 5th, so my interview will be after that. Blaire said I'll be given a dildo to demonstrate with, but in class the women will get carrots to practice with. Can you imagine? A room full of women with carrots.

I should have asked about pay. You'd think they have the budget for some re-usable wooden dildos. Carrots? This gets better by the minute.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Sex, yes. Massage, no.

You may recall, back in Miami, my best friend Cooldan broke his foot in three places and doesn't remember how. His foot is currently rehabilitating in a cast, and the doctor says if he's careful, it will heal perfectly. That doctor may as well have been speaking to a brick wall.

Cooldan went out with us on Saturday night to Mr. Black. The place was totally packed, and as he hobbled around on the crutches we overheard snippets from strangers, "Some people would call him pathetic, but I give him extra credit!" After several vodka cranberries, Dan decides to get up on the go-go box, scooting the near-nude go-go boy off to one side, while he hops around on one foot waving his crutches in the air like a pair of pom-poms. That is, until he fell off and landed on a candle.


Cooldan accessorizes his cast with a sensible heel.















Surprisingly, his crutches were an amazing new man-magnet. Dan got more numbers than ever, and ended up going home with some burly man based on specific handicap criteria ("He lived in an elevator building"). After they got naked, however, Dan decides the guy is a bit chubby, and the sex wasn't even good. (Dan insists it wasn't because of the broken foot).

Nevertheless, after they finish the trick asks Dan. "Can you give me a back massage?"
"Excuse me?" asks Dan, horrified. The trick reconsiders. "Actually, how about a head to toe massage?" Dan declines, I mean, really! And we all imagine him telling the guy:

"Be a dear, will you, and pass me my crutches?"

Cooldan may be a cripple, but he ain't no pushover.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Newfest Centerpiece 2007

Here's a great article on our film A Four Letter Word, with director Casper Andreas, taken from this week's NEXT MAGAZINE (www.nextmagazine.com)

Relax…It’s Just Love

Casper Andreas returns for a randy round two with NewFest’s Centerpiece film A Four Letter Word.







Fans of Casper Andreas’ Slutty Summer will have a new word on their lips as the 19th annual NewFest LGBT film festival kicks off at the end of the month. Not so much a sequel as a spin-off, A Four Letter Word promises more of Luke, Marilyn and Peter’s adventures dealing with dating, love and relationships (and sex!) through the gay bars and bedrooms of New York. We caught up with busy Andreas on his way to Boston to dish about his latest gay offering.

Congrats on your second film! What lessons from making Slutty Summer did you apply to making this?
We spent more time on the script and, thanks to a much bigger budget, we had better equipment, more crew members, and were able to make a much moreprofessional looking film.Filmmaking is a craft that one hopefully gets better at doing, so although I love Slutty Summer, I think A Four Letter Word is the better movie.

How was writing the script with Jesse Archer?
Jesse is a very witty person, an amazing writer and probably wrote the funniest lines in the film, while I wrote most of the romantic, tender moments. I don’t think either of us could have written it alone.

With all its “New Yorkyness,” how can queers in the boondocks relate to this film?
Everyone everywhere is dealing with dating and relationship issues.It’s a lot about how one identifies oneself as a gay man and what that means.

It’s so trendy to “play gay” these days. Did finding out gay actors at all enter your casting process?
I’m very excited to have three out-and-proud actors in leading roles: Jesse Archer, Charlie David and J.R. Rolley. Generally I think gay actors have a better understanding and can be more truthful about the life we’re describing, plus out actors don’t mind sexuality questions. But, of course, I cast the actors who nailed the auditions.

So, everyone’s favorite topic: sex! Is it spicey?
AFLW has frontal nudity!When we were promoting Slutty Summer, I always got the question, “Why isn’t there any frontal nudity?” I didn’t realize how important that was to gay audiences. Now I know better!

Have any advice for aspiring gay filmmakers?
Make a movie! If you see gay films and you say to yourself, “I can do that better!” then do it. That’s how I started. All you need is a digital camera and a computer. I made my short film Mormor’s Visit for less than $1000 and Slutty Summer had a shooting budget of only $15,000… and, of course, you should cast me! [Laughs]

Is monogamous love possible for gay men? Do we need to be bound to that standard?
I don’t think anyone needs to be bound by that standard. In this day and age it’s a choice everyone has to make for themselves. But I do believe it’s possible. Of course it is! All you have to do is make the decision and stick with it.


Are there cultural differences dating in Sweden or are gay men sluts the world over?
Going home to Stockholm, I’ve found that gay guys there are much more often in long-term relationships than in New York. However, when I investigated further I also found that a lot of them had sex outside of the relationship, but usually didn’t talk about it—but that could be a total generalization!

What’s your favorite four-letter word?
I will have to go with “love.” That’s just the type of guy I am.

So are you already on to your next project?
Yes! I’m very excited to shoot my third feature this summer. It’s a gay drama called Between Love & Goodbye. We’re shooting all over New York in September, so anyone who’s interested in being extras or will allow us to shoot in their apartment contact me at lovegoodbye.com!

A Four Letter Word screens on Sat, June 9. NewFest 2007: The 19th New York LGBT Film Festival runs May 31–June 10. Visit afourletterwordmovie.com, newfest.org for more info.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Dream Job!?

I'm always scrounging around for a new job. Last week I'm hawking perfume, this week I bartended, and next week? It could be anything. No, really. Get this: my friend Mike forwarded me a craigslist job posting:


***Hiring Gay Male Sex Experts***

Metro Event Planners is a company dedicated to Educating and Empowering women. We host events on bringing fun into the bedroom. We are now hiring Sex Educators to teach our Blow Job Class.

- must be open to discussing sex and your personal techniques

- must be able to think on your feet
-must be able to provide comfort on an otherwise taboo topic.
-schedule is flexible, although must be available MOST weekends, especially nights.
-Training provided.

Ok, my first question: what training are they going to provide? I've been training all my life! This job is TAILOR-MADE. Here is how my cover letter began.

Dear Metro Event Planners,
My name is Jesse Archer. Please consider me for the position of blow job educator. In addition to my extensive experience, I have no qualms about sharing the secrets to my success.


It worked! Ok, so I have a phone interview with "Blaire" on Monday morning. I am not joking. Though I really don't know how I'd talk on the subject for any length of time. Blow job education is simple, really. I could sum up the seminar in two words: poppers and relaxation.
Oh wait, that's the deep throat seminar.

I'll pitch it as a series!

Back to Broadway

I've been on a theatre rampage recently. This week I saw two additional Broadway shows back to back. They were both excellent, and I don't say that a lot.

Coram Boy is gothic, dark as can be, and it chills you to the bone. But what's with that awful title? Coram Boy? Sounds like a jewish holiday. It just opened two weeks ago and the kicker? It's closing two weeks from now. This is not due to the poor choice of title -it's the audience.

I'm sick of silly, derivative theatre; audiences are not. Mamma Mia is still around?! Legally Bland is bound to be around forever, too, but something new that thinks for itself? Gone in a flash. And the number 1 money-making movie EVER: Spiderman 3. Ghastly, perfectly ghastly!

The revival of pulitzer prize winning "Talk Radio" perfectly articulates this point. Oh, the insipid interests of the masses! Liev Schreiber nails the original shock jock in a 1 hours 40 minute performance. Even without an intermission in the bone-crunching seats of the Longacre theatre, time flew. See these both while you can.

They'll soon be replaced by Spiderman (adapted from the screen!)

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Crux of the Matter

I've been thinking a lot about death lately, because I guess I'm always thinking about death. Most people think this is grim, or morbid, but I disagree. It makes life more vital to constantly know it will end. Sometimes I think everything we do, everything society has us wrapped up with (full-time jobs, kids, shopping til we're dropping) is all just one big, convoluted conspiracy to keep us from remembering we are mortal. Noone can escape it, but noone contemplates it. There are always two dates on every tombstone. What's your other one?

Religion is the ultimate distraction from thinking about our ultimate demise. If you believe in god, or life after death, then death is no big deal--even something to look forward to. But for me, religion today is the same as believing there really was a woman named Medusa who had snakes for hair.

What if this is it? Are we living it to the max? There are two books now on the bestseller list dealing with aethism "The God Delusion" and "God is Not Great" and though there are no aetheist terrorists (apart from Leopold & Loeb, it's the religious that kill) it still makes you wonder: if you believe in nothing, then why bother with anything?

It's so easy to turn to religion, to a god, to something or someone to make sense of life. It's hard to believe in nothing--because if there is no supreme being, no pearly gates of heaven, then what is the point to going to work, having a family, being a good person, making the world a better place. What is the point of working on creative projects, making movies, writing books?

I've just published You Can Run a travel book which I hope inspires readers to make the most out of their lives and experience. It took five years of my heart and soul to create, and I'm left wondering, what's next? And why? Life is just going to end into a big black hole of dust to dust and that's it--I may as well sit back and be a bum, or just end it all now. I have difficulty accepting that I can't live forever, that all of this has to end. I wish it didn't have to. Bam Bam listens to my grievance and asks, "Could you have written the book and thrown it away?"

What? "Before you got it published--could you have spent all that time writing the book you loved writing, finished it, and gratefully put it in the garbage can when you finished?" No, I told him. Of course not. I spent years and years working on that project, and other projects that I love, projects that bring me joy. How could I toss them away, let them disappear? Bam Bam just says, "Until you can do that, it's the crux of the matter, isn't it?"

And that's the best analogy for living life (and accepting death) that I've ever yet heard.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Oh My God, You Guys!

I caught LEGALLY BLONDE, the musical on Broadway last week. Despite the "not everyone is as they seem" sweet message, it's as weighty as pink cotton candy. As if you didn't know that.

There were some catchy tunes, starting off with "Oh my god, Oh my god you guys!" I hate to admit, this one is STILL stuck in my head. Later, on the witness stand a hot stud is wearing a colorful silk button down and tight jeans, and they all sing the fun "Is he gay or European?" (answer: he's gay and European).

At one point in the second act, Elle Woods takes a belabored fifteen minutes to sing about buying her new man a suit. Funny enough, it took her only half a minute of another dull song to get a good enough score on her LSAT to land her in Harvard Law. (hint: skip a party or two). So when this guy finally appears in his new suit (big deal, right?) are we impressed? Am I supposed to clap at his ugly blue suit? Clearly he's not gay OR european. He's a car salesman.

I'm sorry to say the choreography was so-so. To think what they could've done with the "Bend & Snap!" number They could've KNOCKED THAT OUT. They didn't. Nevertheless, the show is entertaining. And the bubbly exuberant Laura Bell Bundy just got a Tony nod.

This is more than we can say for the entire production of the Pirate Queen (reviewed here recently). Despite a talented cast of dancers, fun costumes, and what I hear are generous and wonderful producers, you can whip a dead horse and a bad story but but you both only make you cringe.

Legally Blonde is eye candy, and a crowd pleaser (read: created for tourists). It will play for years.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

The Flame is LIT

Roque to the Rescue! Hot Cuban hairstylist to the stars (and my ex-boyfriend) ROQUE has taken charge of creating my flame! I went to his place yesterday to begin construction on my gay pride flame wig! Roque is also contributed another piece of my costume by parting with his own precious pair of length red pleather gloves from his days as the darling draglette "Roquette" (fear the high kicks).

He's generously emptying his house of all drag paraphernalia because it frightens his brand new boyfriend (a big hunk of blue-collar candadian love with gnarled knuckles) so if anyone out there can fit into a pair of 13 inch mary jane platforms, you know who to call.



Roque: keeper of the flame.














Roque is giving my gay pride flame wig the same swoop bang he gives to Mariah Carey ("It's all drag, honey," he says). The only thing is, real stars use real hair. "I give credit to anyone working with this synthetic stuff!" Roque says as he glues pieces of orange and yellow into my red $29.99 wig. When I tell him the flaming queen is considering hoofing it down fifth avenue with lit sparklers, he says that ought to make headlines. Synthetic hair is highly flammable.

Back in 2005 I tripped and fell face first into the pavement in my 8 inch stilettos. It was drag queen roadkill, people. The embarrassment of my life. But I could top it this year - Going out in a blazing flame of glory a la Jeanne d'Arc ? That beats all.

Monday, May 14, 2007

OUT June

Out June's column (with a new photo, in color--the same photo that's on the back of my book) is all about my experience at Sydney Mardi Gras...pushing the high heel. If you read my blog, you know most of the whole story. But now it's all put together in a tight little insubordinate package of "so gay".

What's the gayest thing you've ever done? Last summer, I bought this body hair bleach and bleached the hair on my stomach. But I did it carefully, shading it into six sections, three on either side. Yes, I bleached myself a six pack--and in the right light, it kinda worked. I admit. This is probably the gayest thing ever.

"So gay". What the hell is this term? I wrote that it's referred to as something ordinary people would never do, be, or say. (And thankfully we can't all be ordinary.) "Gay" has had quite the transformation in the vernacular. From happy to homo...in a matter of decades...and now it's just "lame". Far from being offended with this transformation, I'm fascinated. English is a language that's always changing, evolving. It's being butchered all the time--but it's alive.

So I say YAY for so GAY.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

He-Man is a HERO!

What does He-Man do if he's not sparkling? He enjoys a bearhug with Beastman!




He-Man sings, he dances, he's gay as can be---with these edits of his "fabulous superpowers" Thanks to Myspace buddy David Darko for sending this--he says that at about 1:20 (right when He-Man really gets into his groove) the posing is similar to my website. I'm so thrilled. I always wanted to be Teela.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Quotes on the Brink

A few favorite quotables from last week's whirlwind in Miami:

1.
Bam Bam and I wake up in our party pad to find our friend Chad making an orange drink in the blender. "Ready for a drink, boys?" he asks, and it's early so Bam Bam wonders aloud. "Is it alcoholic?" Chad just gasps rather imperiously. "I don't do smoothies."

2.
My best friend CoolDan broke his foot in three places one boozy night along Lincoln Road. He hopped around one one foot before finally buying crutches. His foot swelled up to the size of a football, and when he sat down on the plane for the trip back to New York City, the girl beside him asked. "How did you hurt your foot?" "Actually," deadpanned Dan. "I don't remember."

3.
AFLW actress Margret Echeverria recounted a tale her friend told her about an episode she had during sex. Apparently the girl was having the sex of her life, on the edge of climax, when she couldn't help the following words from sailing out of her at orgasm. "Stick me like a HOG!"

4.
PETA activist Dan Mathews is still on his book tour--and when in Miami, he told me about a recent reading in Wisconsin. After the reading, he hooked up with some local, and the following day they stopped back into the bookshop so his trick could get a copy of his book "Committed". The owner said. "But Dan, I thought you didn't know anyone in Madison?" And Dan looks at her.."I didn't, until midnight." She laughed which enticed him to continue. "So you see, I'll not only bend over backwards to sell a book--I'll bend over forwards too!"

Yes, but did he get stuck like a hog?

New Script

I'm writing a new script about the last of the fag hags. She's fat, she's forty...and she really wants to get laid. That's about it-- ultimately she decides that her gay entourage is keeping her from getting nailed...so she leaves them. Then she has a disastrous bout of straight bars and bad dates. Finally she meets someone on a phone line, has great phone sex... then they meet up in person.

Here's my dilemma: what's wrong with this guy? Keep in mind they've never seen each other in person. Something has to turn her off--to make her go back to her old friends by the end of the script (for the surprise ending). So maybe he's too traditional--he wants her to meet his parents, or have his children...and all she wants is hot sex?

Or is he really old? A midget? And she decides she doesn't need to be with him just because he's the only one that wants to be with her?

I'm stuck in the middle here--any suggestions are appreciated!

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

The price we all agree on

It's really humbling to be a star last weekend and then have to come back here and hawk perfume at Lord & Taylor. This week I'm spritzing old ladies arms with the new ESCADA scent which is a concoction of guava and mango and a "splash" of tangerine. "Smell this!" I say all infomercially ecstatic as they breeze by me. When they ignore me I yell after them. "It's smells just like the fruit on Carmen Miranda's head!" Or "It's the only thing fruitier than me!"

Still nobody pays attention to me. They don't even make eye contact, and the only words are "I have allergies" or "I already have something on" and they rush onward because the perfume peddler is a leper. That is...until they hear the hook. Then they stop. Then they listen. "Free gift with purchase!"

Three times a year (Holidays, Valentines, and now Mothers' Day) the companies get together and offer bundles of freebies. Right now, buy any fragrance "for mom" and choose between a dizzying assortment of hideous bags made in Thailand. There's the red, the orange, the rattan. "They're perfect for Coney Island," I gush, and they all agree. "I'll even toss in this kitschy keychain dripping with fake plastic rubies!" And they do, they make that purchase. Why? Because honey, it's "free".

People, even rich people, go absolutely insane over free shit. And I do mean shit.

The best was the day at Barney's where if you spent over $125 dollars, you got this fantastically shitty dop kit filled with...that's right...samples and samples and samples of more shit. Lotions, potions, nothing you actually want or care to actually use--but who cares? Did I mention it's FREE?! "How much more do I need to spend to get that dop kit full of crap?" You could wrap a bundle of doggy doo in a ribbon and tell people it's free and they'd line up around the corner.

It's like Christmas morning, and quite honestly it's the same for me because "sales are up", shoppers stop and actually speak to me, like I'm a person. They stop and smell my far-too-fruity fragrance. And made my day go by a little faster.

That's the best free deal of all.

Syndication, Baby.

Despite being computer illiterate, I decided to figure out this blog thing last year. Since then I've heard of RSS Feed (God I hate acronyms)--but have waited until now to try to figure it out (I did it so I could sign up with the Author Connect program at Amazon.com--since my book is for sale there). Basically, if you are ignorant like me, and RSS feed means you can subscribe to my blog and get the updates sent to your email.

Or so I think.

All you need to do is click on the little orange icon on my right top margin and go from there. Or you can sign up here: http://feeds.feedburner.com/jesseonthebrink Otherwise you can just keep coming back here like you always did. The old fashioned way.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Miami World Premiere

I'm still crashing from a wild wild ...was it a whole week in Miami? For the record, I only got kicked out of one more bar. But before I fully recover, here's a quick recap of Friday night:

"A Four Letter Word" had its world premiere at an outdoor screening at the South Beach Flamingo with over 500 people in attendance. Miami weather conspired to make it a fantastic success!













Check out more pics from the festival's website. (scroll down half way, and then all the way to the bottom).

I sat surrounded by friends, costars and co-conspirators, producers and director. It's a strange thing to watch yourself up there, and I became worried that the big me on screen may forget his lines. Strange sensation.

Also strange - Casper Andreas (director) and I spoke afterward about how some of the lines in the film we didn't think were funny got laughs, and other lines we thought for sure were funny didn't. You just never can tell. One thing that's for sure is the film got great feedback, lots of press, and we're playing at a ton more festivals coming up in the next few months--(I'll be in Ft. Worth, Provincetown, Honolulu...just to name a few) So check out www.afourletterwordmovie.com to see if we'll be near you.


Me with Alison Lane ( the fantastic lesbian barracuda "Trisha" of A Four Letter Word) at the closing party.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

OUT May issue

If you got a chance to see my column in this month's OUT magazine, you've read one of my most embarrassing moments. It's the tale of a seduction gone all wrong--traveling the third world where there are no gays, and this one time last year where I made a miserable misjudgment with this kid Brendan.

This time the copywriters at out got zealous and tinkered a lot with my words. They rearranged sentences, switched a couple words, took out sections. Here's a chunk they deleted:

Brendan is not exactly prime material. I mean, I’ve fucked prettier, and he has a chewed off ear lobe which I won’t even ask about. But he’s lean, adventurous, and most importantly…he’s here. We simply must celebrate (naked) at our having found the other last unicorn.

They also took out the part where I explain why I was petrified. As I ran from Brendan, I was afraid because I knew I'd see him the next day..and then what? Would he tell on me?

It's so frustrating to read what you've written and see it tinkered with. I understand that artistic endeavors are often a collaborative effort, but you'd think they could check with me first. It's the same problem I had with the film A Four Letter Word--I won some battles and lost some battles creatively. And with my book, I had to make certain concessions to the publisher--you think I wanted my nipple on the cover?!

Artists must be somewhat malleable; not too rigid. It's the same in everday life -too little consideration for others, and we're tyrants. A dash of cooperation and collaboration is required for any life well lived, or art well made.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Kicked to the Curb

I keep getting kicked out of clubs. It's gotten to the same point as getting fired from all my jobs--after a while you sort of accept it, make it your own, and revel in it. And so I proudly announce: I got kicked out of my first club in Miami Beach. On my first night!

Being a Tuesday, I headed to Twist. It's this multi-level, rather dumpy gay bar right on Collins. There's a separate back bar, and on a Tuesday it was the only room with anybody in there. Mainly because there were several "dancers" on go-go boxes. Of course they're all hustlers.

I made friends with one old guy at the bar, Lorenzo. And one of the dancers came over to us, and I said "Show us your dick," which he did. It was meaty. Then I said, "How much to suck it?" And he says "$200." This actually offended me. "I'm way too young," I said, and 70 year old Lorenzo says, "Even at MY age, I wouldn't pay more than $20 to suck it." Then the dancer asked for a tip, we both declined him, and he shrugged off.

Lorenzo and I were laughing, having a good old time, and he kept buying me shots of jager. We watched one "dancer" on the box who wore a g-string with a long elephantesque pouch in front. You always wonder: is that thing stuffed? Is there some kind of penile prosthetic going on? At Lorenzo's urging, I went and yanked it. It didn't fall off.

Then a big guy with a wall-eye comes over "You can't touch the dancers," he yells at me and I look him right and the eye. "Can't? I just did."

Then he calls two security guards over to kick me out! So I start yelling, "Just because you've got a wall-eye, doesn't mean you can kick people out!!!" But he did. I got kicked right out of Twist, screaming adios to my buddy Lorenzo as they muscled me out.