Saturday, March 21, 2009
The "After" Party (video © Gawker.com)
I didn't film this, and I didn't go there.
But it doesn't mean I haven't seen some of this nonsense.
Except for the shit on the dancefloor.
But that doesn't surprise me in the least.
Now remember kids: I'm 48 and HIV-.
Labels: The Black Party 2008 AFTERWARDS
My 1st Black Party
By Jory at Gawker.com
At 1 AM on Saturday night I am at home, drinking straight Jack Daniels by myself, and feeling equally excited and nervous. I was told by one of my more experienced friends to "absolutely not go before 2 AM." My only knowledge of what the Black Party would be like was Gawker's exit-poll video from last year.
The previous day my roommate took me to Leatherman (NSFW), a fetish leather store in the West Village, to pick out a harness. After selecting one, I was ordered to "Strip!" by a tall, heavyset, bald man with incredibly powerful body odor. "This is not the time to be shy," he said as he fitted my harness by placing black chrome snaps at various intersections of leather and metal. I'm surrounded by glass cases filled with assorted, oddly-shaped metallic objects for which I have absolutely no clue of their purpose. I don't ask.
With a harness selected, I needed something for the lower part of my body. My sales bear asked me, "Are you a zipper-back or zipper-front kind of guy?" I think the look in my face said enough, and he moved on to neoprene shorts, which I tried on and admittedly looked quite atrocious in.
"I'll just wear jeans."
At 1:30 AM my roommate calls and instructs me to be at Roseland Ballroom in 15 minutes. I suit up, wearing just my new harness, jeans, and a coat, and take a few shots of JD for the road. There is no line when I arrive and we head to the downstairs coat check, which is rebranded "clothes check" and is a massive operation. I scan the crowd, already seeing several people I know. The dress is pretty homogenous, either harnesses or no shirt at all, jeans or jock straps, and in many cases the only coverage was boots and a cock ring (I wonder where these people are keeping their clothes check tickets). The crowd is a mixture of people who seem to be very into "the lifestyle" and others who seem to be in it for the once-yearly novelty.
With our clothes stowed away, we head upstairs and immediately run into our first "sex show." There is a crowd of people standing around a gated-off area, and inside, two fit men tied up on a pool table. One is on his back and receiving a hand job, while the other is sitting up on his knees. Behind him, a large muscular man is greasing up the blunt end of a pool cue. The cue was inserted into the ass of one of the bound men, while the other was fitted with a condom. After being sodomized by the pool cue, the guy is guided down, ass first, onto the condom-clad dick of the other. They started fucking and we decided to walk around; it was like watching porn but we couldn't fast forward through the boring parts.
In the center of the venue is the dance floor, which is insanely crowded and we don't even dare going inside. There is an odd paradox watching these tough-looking, muscular men in fetish gear dancing to club music and remixed pop songs. On our way past the dance floor my roommate points out gay porn legend cum musician Colton Ford, who is large and very handsome in person.
We head upstairs, where things are supposed to be even more interesting. There is another sex show starting up here on a large, elevated, square stage. I recognize the first performer as famous French narcissist François Sagat (NSFW). He is shirtless and looking ripped, although much shorter than I'd imagined. He is joined by a very large, muscular black man. They wrestle around for a few minutes before the black guy opens his pants, removes his penis and starts pissing on François. First on his chest, then in his mouth, and then he turns the water gun upwards and pisses in his own mouth. This honestly doesn't do it for me, and yet I can't stop watching. They both stand up and the crowd applauds. François jumps off the stage to exit, and I quickly duck out of his way for fear of getting bumped into by this urine-soaked frenchman.
The piss show made me realize it is time to use the restroom! I head downstairs and went to the huge array of urinals. I notice newly-single Jason Preston at the urinal across from me, who looks short, sober, and extremely conservative in his t-shirt and jeans. The bathroom scene is surprisingly unremarkable, I was expecting more lewdness.
Back upstairs, we head into a large tent set up in a corner, where I trip over someone and realize a third of the people in this tent are on their knees. There are several groups of people in here, each encircling a guy getting blown. You quickly notice the two species of people: those who are shamelessly indulging in the sexual activities, and those who are shamelessly watching. A staff person walks through carrying a tray like a casino cocktail waitress, and the tray is filled with various types of free condoms and lube packets. I notice two guys fucking in one of the corners. At this point I've drank enough not to be embarrassed that I'm being a total voyeur, but when someone grabs my crotch I decide it's time to exit this tent and continue on exploring. On my way out, a guy approaches me, "Can I suck you?" I politely decline and head out.
I rejoin my friends and we decide to tour the "dark room," which is actually more of a hallway that leads to an unused exit. Near the entrance there are some drag queens sitting at a table yelling "Get your condoms and lube!" We go in, and notice some people getting blow jobs and others copulating against the walls of the hallway. It is dark, very dark. The further back you go the darker it gets. It is kind of a let-down because by the time you get to where anything interesting is possibly happening in the furthest part, it is nearly pitch black. You can hear moans, but see nothing. As we turn around and are exiting, someone accidentally hits the light switch and the vulgar truth of the dark hallway is exposed.
It is nearly 6 AM now and the bars have stopped serving alcohol, but the party is showing no signs of letting up. The downstairs pool table scene has been replaced with a bunch of women (yes, biological females) with tits out and strap-ons. My friends are lost now, and since everyone looks the same I know I'll never find them. I head back upstairs for one last round and there is another sex show at the square stage. Three young guys are on the stage, two are bound with ropes and the third is walking around with a leather whip. The one with the whip is very hot, but they all look bored, and I again wish I could fast-forward. The hot one is wearing pants, and makes another guy go down on him, but you can't really see anything and I lose patience and walk away. At $125 per admission (which does not include drinks and is so New York), I'm here to get my money's worth.
One last time I peek into the tent. There is a lot of oral sex and good amount of fucking going on now. I fend off people trying to unfasten my jeans as a handsome guy named Chris, a thin, athletic latino, approaches me and asks me if he can blow me "for awhile." Chris is shirtless and exposed. I'm flattered, but being of the 'shameless voyeur' species and not the 'shameless indulger', I decline and tell him it's time for me to go home and get some sleep. We exit the tent together and discuss our first time black party experiences.
I collect my clothes and recognize the attendant as a model-about-town named Justin. He tells me I'm cute and I thank him politely, realizing that he has "dated" almost every one of my friends at some point.
I leave Roseland completely sober and enter the daylight. And even though it is 8:30 AM now, the party behind me is still raging and — somehow — I feel like I'm leaving early.
Labels: The Black Party 2008
The Black Party.
The Darkest Night in NYC.
The Darkest Circuit Party in New York City
From Hannah Fons, for About.com
In 1980, on Manhattan's Lower East Side, there appeared a dance club that single-handedly revolutionized gay nightlife and served as a laboratory for the development of what we now call house music. DJs at this club set their decks on half-ton blocks of solid concrete to keep the bass from making the records skip; celestial constellations wheeled across a domed roof two stories above the dance floor, and some 2,000 individual light fixtures illuminated the roiling crowd of men beneath. This club was The Saint, and it made Studio 54 look like a studio apartment.
Until the toll taken by drugs, AIDS, and hostile city administration shuttered the club in 1988, The Saint was home to some of the most decadent parties in New York - events so saturated with sexual energy that by the end of the night (or afternoon, as was often the case), what began as a full-on disco blowout had melted into an full-on orgy there under the artificial stars. Legendary DJs like Warren Gluck cut their teeth at The Saint, crafting their marathon sets to take revelers on an emotional, auditory journey through the hours. Most spectacular among these events were the White Party - held in mid-February - and the Black Party, held in late March to celebrate the Spring Equinox.
Since the demise of The Saint as a brick-and-mortar destination, four of the principal organizers of the original venue have carried on the proud tradition of their old home, forming The Saint At Large, and continuing to host the annual White and Black Parties at Roseland Ballroom on Manhattan's West Side. The White Party - not to be confused with events of the same name in Palm Springs and Miami - is the more accessible, user-friendly of the two, drawing thousands of white-clad, glitter-dusted party people to a long night-and-day of high-energy, transcendent house music. While primarily a gay male event, the White Party has its share of female attendees, and the overall mood is buoyant-or flamboyant, depending on the marabou-feathers-to-people ratio- and celebratory.
By contrast, the Black Party is a far heavier affair, with a deliberately predatory ambience, as evidenced by this year's invitation: a Polaroid of a young man with a gruesome black eye, split lip, and just-visible tear trickling down his cheek.
Black Party attendees are encouraged to "dress heavy" on the Saint At Large Web Site: this Saturday night, thousands of men (and a very few select women) in acres of leather and miles of steel chain will check their inhibitions at the door and converge to soak in an atmosphere of unapologetic, testosterone-infused hedonism. Cameras are not allowed inside the party, where porn stars will showcase their various talents onstage, clothing will come off, and partygoers will publicly maul each other on the dance floor, in the bathrooms, and anywhere else that's dark and available. One thing is guaranteed:once you step into the Black Party, you are officially not in Kansas anymore.
In keeping with The Saint's tradition of taking revelers on a journey as the night wears on into day, the soundtrack to this 18-hour event will be provided by a troika of world-renowned circuit DJs
Of course, when an event inspires descriptors like "sleazy," "predatory," and "dark," it's also bound to criticism from a variety of sources. While the Black Party is generally untroubled by police and governmental interventions, it has drawn fire from groups like the New York City Gay/Lesbian Anti-Violence Project (AVP), whose leaders have objected loudly to the battered-boy Polaroid invitation this year, and various HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention groups, who feel (with some justification) that the sexual abandon that characterizes the Black Party makes it a hotbed for the transmission of disease. Black Party attendees themselves have voiced complaints as the price of tickets for the event has risen over the years; advance tickets for the Black Party 2003 were a steep $100.
Be as that may, men all over the city and around the country are polishing their chaps and readying themselves for the darkest night of the year - they'll shed their everyday personas and give themselves over to an event whose history goes back more than two decades, to the genesis of gay nightlife and everything that has come since, from AIDS and activism to the circuit party phenomenon. The Black Party offers those brave enough to attend a long night of pure fantasy, divorced from daylight and real life. And, as porn actor Addison Scott was quoted in The Village Voiceas saying, "These people are not afraid to act out their fantasies for one night."
Labels: The Black Party
Be jealous. Be very jealous.
The Black Party|Rites XXX
Posted by ANONYMOUS...Somewhere.
©remains with the original author
Friday, March 20, 2009
Labels: progressed chart
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Labels: transit astrology
Sorry. I'm busy. So don't ask.
Labels: Jupiter Opposition Uranus
Gas at BJs & Studio 54
Miss Emily Post
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
An open note to Larry King:
Labels: Larry King
The Comfort of Strangers
Natasha Richardson, Rupert Everett
Helen Mirren, Christopher Walken
Dir. Paul Schrader
The Comfort of Strangers
Natasha Richardson, Rupert Everett
Helen Mirren, Christopher Walken
Natasha Richardson Dies.
Our prayers are with her husband, actor Liam Neeson, her mother, actress Vanessa Redgrave, and her two sons.
Labels: Natasha Richardson
Our prayers are with Natasha Richardson...
Our prayers are with the actress Natasha Richardson, wife of actor Liam Neeson, and daughter of actress Vaness Redgrave. It is our profound hope she recovers from her serious ski injury.
From the New York Times:
Family Gathers Around
By PATRICK HEALY and LIZ ROBBINS [March 19, 2009]
The family and friends of the actress Natasha Richardson gathered at Lenox Hill Hospital on Wednesday to be at her side.Ian Austen contributed reporting from Toronto,
Ms. Richardson, 45, suffered a head injury on Monday while skiing in Quebec and was flown from Montreal Tuesday night to Lenox Hill, on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Her mother, the actress Vanessa Redgrave, was seen entering the hospital that night, and her sister, Joely Richardson, was also reported to have shown up at the hospital that evening.
Her husband, the actor Liam Neeson, who had reportedly been filming a movie in Toronto when the accident occurred, was seen on Tuesday afternoon crouched inside an ambulance beside his wife at Hôpital du Sacré-Coeur de Montréal, as she lay heavily wrapped in blankets with tubes around her face.
Alan Nierob, a family spokesman, said on Wednesday afternoon that he had no information about Ms. Richardson’s medical condition. Asked if she was on life support or had been taken off life support, or if she was brain dead or in a coma — all of which has been reported on several media outlets over the last 24 hours — Mr. Nierob replied: "I don’t deal with rumors. I don’t care about rumors. All I care about is facts. And I don’t have any facts to give you."
A spokeswoman for the hospital as well as business representatives for Ms. Richardson referred questions to Mr. Nierob.
Throughout the day on Tuesday, there were conflicting reports about Ms. Richardson’s medical condition. La Presse, Montreal’s French language broadsheet, reported that a source at the hospital said that Ms. Richardson was in a "profound and irreversible coma." Other media outlets reported that she was on life support — and that, once in the United States, it would be withdrawn — while other news outlets said that she was brain dead.
The reports of Ms. Richardson’s grave condition seemed especially shocking considering the seemingly harmless nature of the accident.
Lyne Lortie, a spokeswoman for the Mont Tremblant ski resort in the Laurentian Hills north of Montreal, said Ms. Richardson had fallen during a beginner’s lesson. She was not wearing a helmet at the time, she said.
“It was a normal fall; she didn’t hit anyone or anything,” Ms. Lortie said. “She didn’t show any signs of injury; she was talking and she seemed all right.”
As a precaution, when she left the slopes, Ms. Richardson was accompanied by a member of the resort’s ski patrol and her instructor, who then remained with her at her hotel.
When she began complaining of a headache about an hour later, she was taken by ambulance to a hospital in Ste. Agathe, Quebec, about 20 minutes from the resort. Ms. Lortie said that Ms. Richardson was transferred to the Hôpital du Sacré-Coeur de Montréal later in the afternoon.
Ms. Richardson won a Tony in 1998 for her performance in “Cabaret.” Her film performances include roles in “The Handmaid’s Tale” and “The Parent Trap.” Her father, Tony Richardson, was a director, who died in 1991. She and Mr. Neeson married in 1994.
In January, Ms. Richardson and her mother, Ms. Redgrave, gave a benefit concert reading of Stephen Sondheim’s “A Little Night Music” at The Roundabout Theater. Ms. Richardson played Desirée Armfeldt, and Ms. Redgrave played her stage mother. The two were reportedly planning a longer run of the revival in New York.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Dear Apple: Happy St Patrick's Day
U2 Dumps iPod for BlackBerry
By Michelle Megna
March 17, 2009
Apparently, RIM said "walk away, walk away, walk away," and Bono followed, switching his allegiance from Apple's iPod to RIM's (NASDAQ: RIMM) BlackBerry, which is now the corporate sponsor of the super-group's 360 tour kicking off in June in Spain.
The news comes at a time when the competition in the smartphone market is heating up even as sales cool off -- and new players such as the T-1 Mobile Android phone are also certain to change the landscape -- so any edge, whether having a namesake guitarist or not, may be prudent.
At U2.com, you see an artsy black-and-white photo of Bono and company and an orange icon bearing the group's current tour title, but what's surprising is the BlackBerry company name right below it in popping white-on-black contrast.
Wait, what? The band's indomitable frontman-cum-diplomat virtually became synonymous with Apple (NASDAQ: AAPL) love back in 2004. Bono and guitarist Edge joined Steve Jobs on the stage of the California Theatre to announce an unprecedented marketing partnership between U2 and Apple that revolved around the iPod U2 Special Edition.
And who can forget the Apple ad with the band performing the hit single "Vertigo?" Or the infamous Bono quote in 2005 that Apple is "more creative than a lot of people in rock bands"? All this makes it hard to believe that Bono has a BlackBerry neatly secured in a belt clip underneath his black leather jacket.
Details are sparse on what the odd alliance will result in for the band aside from corporate backing for its next worldwide concert tour to promote its next album. [more]
President Barack O'Bama
Labels: President Barack O'Bama
A Surreal WHAT'S MY LINE? Moment!
Salvador Dalî on American TV!
Event Astrology|Rites XXX
The Roseland Ballroom, 11:59p
Event Astrology|Letter to MWS
Labels: event astrology
The (Original) White Party|The Saint
Invitation as photographed by
Rites I & Rites II, 1979
Frank Diaz as photographed by
Monday, March 16, 2009
This Day in Animal Cruelty History|1881
Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus Opens
This Day in Art History|1941
The National Gallery Opens
Labels: The National Gallery of Art