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Friday, February 28

Still Standing

Why this manic panic to reconfigure Lower Manhattan with another WTC?
Why does this project have to be the Tallest One In The World?

NYC already has a surfeit of monstrous skyscrapers, only a few of which are beautiful.

The pathlogical inability of America to 'leave well enough alone' is one of the reasons why....

[...well, perhaps, we shouldn't go there just yet....]

Wednesday, February 26

Snow Job

It's like minus a billion outside, the power keeps going off, there's no more pot, and I have been reduced - for fear of treading outside to even the corner store - to drinking Chock-Full-O-Shit. I can't recall the last time I drank coffee from a can.

Which makes it a Photoshop Makeover Kinda Day ::

(Before you know it, I'll be playing chess with myself.)

Jeeves? Book me a cruise immediately, please.

Tuesday, February 25


Have you heard? Le Donnie and I are gonna get married, and live here, in Paris, in a cozy loft atop the arc of L'Arc ::

(Plans to set up digs here fell through when it was discovered by hotel management that both of us shop & shoplift off the rack....apparently Le Crillon is the place God created for the unwashed-in-pret-a-porter).

You're all invited. Here are the particulars ::

:: Donnie insisted we hold both ceremony & reception on some barge floating down the Seine. I'm all like "Uh, sewage", he's all like "Uh, my parents, paying". And he looks like a Satanic Condoleeza Rice when he's pissed off - why didn't anyone tell me?

:: Gowns will be by Alexander McQueen. Basically, I'm still sitting on the fence re: the proposed codpieces in snakeskin. I said, from the beginning, that we should have stuck with Hedi Slimane - but Donnie has this thing for Alex.......

:: Live Ent. Debbie Harry, of course - that was easy.

:: Registered?. Why, how sweet of you to ask! We've decided to set-up individualized registrations to limit the amount of sharing involved later on. Him :: Madison Avenue, NY NY. Me :: The Betty Ford.

:: Jewels?. Ugh. Piercings are so over.

:: Courtney Love?. Can't make it - she's been too busy disassociating for the world' s paparazzi. But her dealer's coming, thank god.

We honestly can't wait to experience all of you throwing fistfuls of Percadin at us as we exit our Barge of Love. From there, we alight into a waiting caleche, which will then whisk us to Charles de Gaulle, where a Gulfstream IV that Donnie managed to borrow from Suzanne Rich should be standing by, ready to transport us to - where else? - Monaco, for a 5 week honeymoon.

It's all about the love.

Monday, February 24

Canadian Chicks Who Can Sing

Avril Latrine?

Celine Scream-on?

Shania Pain!?

No-one here actually listens to them, you guys.....their brand of psycho-schmaltz is geared strictly for south-of-the-border consumption. No - CanadianFags&DykesInTheKnow revere the almost late, great Carole Pope, who has the voice David Bowie wanted and never got. CP further distinguishes herself for always having been blessedly Out, without ever really mentioning it :: with early 80's am & fm radio hits such as "High School Confidential" and "Hostage", Pope transfixed a burgeoning queer demographic with chorus lyrics such as, "She makes me cream my jeans", "I pull my gun out/You open your mouth" (barked, punk rock style - fucking LOVE that song), and lots of earnest, throaty grunting - all of which sailed effortlessly beneath the presbyterian radar of this country's telecommunications censors. Yes, contrary to popular (American) belief, censorship thrives in Canada.

She also led/leads a thrillingly debauched life...that is detailed, at times, in excruciating fashion in her recent book ::

See? You can get your "CanCon" without resorting to The Grammies.

Saturday, February 22

[Reposting, Cont'd....]

Links, for Christ's Sake. Because this is alledgedly a blog ::

:: Cool Music Site, from Germany.
:: Blogging Site, devoted to Drama.
:: Yiddish-English Lexicon Site, because you should know, already.
:: Caesarian Site, from the past.
:: Edie Site, because I went to school with her hunky cousin, Rob.
:: Canadian In Japan Site, from Japan.
:: Dirty Gossip Site, from some sewer.
:: Dirty Gossip Site, with pics, from London.
:: Cat Site, from Feline Hell.
:: Cat Site, from the former club, Mother (you remember the pool table in the basement, right?)
:: Beautiful New York Photo Site, from New York.
:: Corporate Booze Site, 'cept it's good.
:: Dowager Drag Queen's Site, from Mars.
:: PR Maven-to-Hitler's site - no shit.
:: Historical Site, with pics
:: Snazzy Internet Radio Guide Site, from London
:: High Brow/Low Brow Publisher's Site - sign up for the FREE magazine.

That should suffice.

Friday, February 21


Sorry I couldn't be there this evening - all these habits to support, you see.

I wrote this one for you.

Shine forth.

Thursday, February 20


"Bombs Over Baghdad"....hmmm - these guys were clearly onto something. Not unlike the redoubtable Boy George, replete in Soviet Muff (could you please not giggle)....

....who reminded us way back when that ::

War war is stupid and people are stupid
And love means nothing in some strange quarters
War war is stupid and people are stupid
And I heard them banging on hearts and fingers

(You can just hear good 'ole Boy stomping the words into the beat..."some - strange - quart - ers")

Maybe these affairs are best left to the Generals afterall.

Wednesday, February 19

Le Weekend

You know you had a good weekend if you only post about it the following Wednesday.


:: Arrived in TO, immediately went tanning at establishment euphemistically named "Glow". In view of the marked potency of their new stand-up beds (gee - thanks for the warning), "Grill" might be a better moniker. Anyways, I'm now a nice pinky bronze colour.

:: Visited The Boys. Somebody received one of those new & huge Diesel watches as a Valentine's Day present ( you could do lines off that thing, it's so big....). Somebody else was severely hungover - but didn't realize it, and thought they had become afflicted with the Norwalk Virus - fag, heal thyself. Copious treats.

:: Went to Valentine's reiteration at club (IT), & nearly dissolved when Love Object approached (clad in armless red), and proceeded to grind me in best Jamaican fashion. Which was great - 'cept I never know what facial expression to adopt when someone fake-fucks me in public. White 'n Uptight...

:: Numerous declarations of love & lust were exchanged - and mostly with the L.O., to boot.

:: Assisted DJ in dissuading lovely couple from Detroit from smoking crack - smoking crack - as they sat on couch adjacent to turntable deck. The charming missus claimed she had just come from a party where crack smoke was pervasive - and that her hairpsray must have picked up the scent. Uh, security please..

:: Participated in a little club espionage for Megan & Dale. They have these men, see.....

:: Went to house party held by Peter. I have no idea who the hell Peter is. Due to noise issues, Police became involved......due to TO attitude issues, Peter didn't even bother to turn down music when Constable Profiler showed up......due to racist TO cops, half party (including us) fled. Shades of my pre 3-strikes-and-you're-out-era adolescence.

:: And so on.


:: During the day, took photographs & made videos of the gang, while we were all on K. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

:: Went, en masse, to hyperbolically overpriced Florist, and watched, in utter astonishment, as Shelley shoplifted with complete abandon, on K. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

:: A tricky evening at another club; a) per usual, was come onto by L.O.'s best friend, about 4 minutes after being introduced. This is why I dread meeting significant-other-friends; b) learned that I resemble, exactly, 2 other TO night life luminaries, named, bizarrely enough, Perry & Gerry; c) met girl ( Sally) who sported not only a genuine Vidal Sassoon bob (what a cut) but vintage Halston (!) as well, couldn't keep my hands off her, she thought I was wierd;


:: Went to Comfort Zone. New York has arrived in TO, albeit in a slightly pasteurized form. Club opens Sunday at 6 am, closes Monday at 6am - and people stay. Lovely to see breakdancing again, those boys are adorable. Gay men even get their own section - except it's the only part of the club with black lighting (go figure). The hooker section - should you visit - is way more fun.

:: Left around 2pm.

:: Explored L.O., in a physical & sprirtual sense, well into that night. Privately grappled with oncoming panic re: what future held with this superb man - then decided not to worry about it, and thanked my lucky stars...

It seems, I now realize, that I have a few.

Tuesday, February 18

A Hex Hector Kinda Weekend.....

Just got back from a Wonderful Time in TO.
Sorta braindead right now.
The Hills, The Valleys, The Highs, The Lows.
We :: made a movie, went to new clubs, became implicated, turned it 'out, nurtured some drama, indicated presence of love, became terrified, demonstrated presence of love, went deep, made dinner, made love.

Everybody say "Love".
Ok now stop.

Friday, February 14

The Ravages Of Time

History has not been particularly kind to Wallis Warfield Simpson, aka The Duchess Of Windsor - recent revelations which detail not only her avid Nazi Sympathies but also that she was playing Edward, erstwhile King of England; regrettable decisions concerning plastic surgery; those quotations ("never too rich or too thin" and "peel me a grape") which simply refuse to die, and are either fabulous or obnoxious depending on where you stand re: Ms Andrea Dworkin; tales of her evil butler in Paris.....detail a sloppy life, which stands in jarring contrast to the breathtaking discipline she applied to her role as Chatelaine de Chic for half of this century.

Well - it's about to get a lot sloppier ::

[courtesy HELLO! magazine]

:: 14 FEBRUARY 2003 ::
Faye Dunaway has been signed up to play the Duchess of Windsor in a film about her affair with a homosexual playboy. The role of Edward VIII will be played by Michael York in the £5- million British production to be titled The Bahama Triangle.

Should have been called "Wally Dearest".

Thursday, February 13


Working It Out and Making It Work......love you, baby, yes I do. And now, let us rise into joy.


Wednesday, February 12

All I Want For Valentine's Day, pt.II

The, ahem, top 3 floors.

71 Grand Street, Manhattan - could you imagine!?!?

'Home Is Where Your Stockbroker Is'

Tuesday, February 11

All I Want For Valentine's Day

I've said it before, and I'll say it again ::

Nothing says Love like YSL..

Monday, February 10

Our Gene Pool

By the time you hit my age, you no longer feel like engaging in labyrinthine discussions re: your fascinating personality traits and how you came to possess them (those in their 20's will and will not have a clue what i'm talking about. Heads in your assess and all that...). In fact, you, as a mature person, spend a great deal of time denying, publicly, the existence of any personality at all, so that you may avoid any and all entreaties from yungins' eager for a chance to share and swap (for heavens' sake) stories about 'personal growth', 'my abuse history', 'why dad made me this way', 'favourite Dr. Phil episodes', etc.

There are at least 38 other things I'd rather do at any given time - like count my teeth, for instance.

However - sometimes you find yourself cornered....where gently rebuffing the inquisitor would seem tantamount to slapping them in the face. In these situations - usually at work, I should add - I've perfected the habit of explaining/blaming my personality & character development on my Gene Pool. I'm not entirely certain what, exactly, comprises a Gene Pool - but an acquaintance, who kindly shared this tip, assured me that it is responsible for everything that we become (he, evidently, resides squarely in the "Nature" rather than "Nurture" camp), tics and all.

Here's an example :: the other day, at work, a co-worker noted (as I tidied up the staff office for like, what, the 5th time that shift) that I was, in fact, cleaning up the staff office for like, what, the 5th time that shift - and that this must mean that I am somehow "anal" (I beg your pardon?), or worse, "Obssessive Compulsive". Our resident Freud was oblivous to the fact that she and the other team members are complete slobs - but that was besides the point....a glove had been thrown down, it was a cue to roll up my sleeves and talk turkey about what makes me, me. Time to bond through mutual dislcosure.

Uh, no.

So I replied with something like,

"oh, I don't know - probably my gene pool - say....since you're STANDING there....and we're at WORK and all... do you think you could file this TOWERING pile of files for me - oh like, before NEXT FALL maybe?"

Here are some other personality traits discussion of which can be easily extinguished through simple association with your gene pool ::

:: Unwillingness to Lend Money - Don't let them call it 'cheapness'...you obviously have Scottish genes.

:: Fear of Dogs - Look really serious when you assign blame for this one on your gene pool. Murmur something darkly about having had ancestors in Arkansas.

:: Anxiety about Your Mother, Constantly - Tell them you're Jewish. But first, make damn sure you are Jewish. That's a whole lotta gene baggage, lemme tell ya.

:: So-Called Fear of Commitment - Well, I just think it's called 'playing it safe' - but if you get nabbed on this one, tell your interlocutor that you are descended from the Masi, and thus are genetically nomadic. Note - this works much better if you're really tall & really black.

:: Aversion to Hugs From Co-Workers - Start babbling about recessive genes, leprosy, these tests you're awaiting.....if doesn't even have to make that much sense...you're strictly aiming for 'soundbites' here.

:: Issues With Anger - You don't need genes to save you from this one - you're just never angry anymore ever since you've started taking Herbalite.

:: Issues With Children (ie., don't want any) - Say that you lack the "nurture gene", which explains, as well, why all houseplants die in your care, and half your friends actually hate you.

:: Issues Saying 'Goodbye' at Airports, Bus Stations, Curbs - Tell them that Greek Scientists have matched your DNA to that of Homer's, and further bolster the story by mentioning how you experience convulsions during readings of The Iliad.

That doesn't work?

Tell whomever to mind their own fucking business.

Sunday, February 9

Sometimes, There's Nothing Like Good 'Ole Fashioned Breeder Humour...

The Airtoonstm are back ::

Completely Sophomoric....and funny. Almost makes me wanna chug plastic cups of beer from a keg.


Saturday, February 8


Simply Unctuous.

Is there anything as good? Everyone - and I mean everyone, including intubated anorectics - loves the stuff.

Today, I'm all boyish-figure-be-damned, and, so, am about to whip up a big pot of my very own (it's disarmingly easy to make, once you get the hang of it). Tomorrow, I'll form the leftovers into small balls stuffed with mozzarella, coat in breadcrumbs and fry...arancini, as I was taught by a former roomate of impeccable Roman lineage.

Frigid northeastern winter storms which render you housebound for a Saturday afternoon.....

.....aren't always that bad.

Friday, February 7


Perhaps GW should focus on invading Neverland Ranch, instead.

Thursday, February 6

I am so here.....

This is contingent upon ::

:: New Position - (twice the pay)
:: Scheduling Gods - (must regard me kindly)
:: Being Able To Locate My Birth Certificate - (has to be here somehwere)
:: Completely Erasing Any Memory Of My Last Visit - (A few years ago, when I was summarily dumped by someone, literally an hour after arrival)

I imagine recent events have changed things, somewhat. Hopefully, NY'ers have been able to look beyond; the shawarma's I used to devour in that city were the best thing this side of Lebanon.

Arab, Schmarab.

Wednesday, February 5

Dancehall Dangers

Just when it was beginning to look like it was safe to have fun again, I've discovered, from a friend, that I am afflicted with a condition called "Disco Finger". Check out the picture of my left hand below, particularly the swollen area between the 2nd & 3rd knuckles ::

I've been aware of this (and other) mysterious mini-injuries which often appear on my body after weekends of hard-care buggin' out - but this, apparently, is a documented, recognized syndrome caused by......snapping too much, for too long.

Life catches up with you in the most unusual ways, doesn't it?