Thirty, Dirty, and, apparently, Sloppy

It'll be my 30th birthday soon. Yes, Star Wars and I turn 30 the same year. Isn't it ironic? Don't cha think. But before I whisk you away with all my fetishes of pop culture and bitch pop references, I must relay a story...

Matt is a geat friend of mine that I met while living in Kochi, Japan. I hadn't seen him for over a year, so it was a treat to be able to spend time with him recently on a business jaunt here to NYC. I took him to a bar where I got very lucky recently, The Phoenix.

So there we were, chatting it up in the side room - me in a Swiss Airlines Hoody and Matt in a Fabulous blue sequins jacket that he snatched up before making the leap over from San Fran. There we were. And there they were. No sooner did I see there two guys checking us out than did I find myself in the middle of a self introduction.


Moi: [reaching for the hand of someone who appears to be not a day past 15.5 years old] Hi, I'm Deuteronomy.

The Ostensibly 15.5 year old from L.I. (imagine the accent): I'm Evian. <-- ficticious name

Before I continue, I must say that Evian seemed like a nice guy. He and his friend made their way over and struck up a conversation about Matt's jacket and then used that as a segue into chatting. It was all very nice, but the speed with which it all went down was a bit startling. I'm reminded of praying mantises at the moment...

15.5 L.I.: Soo, Deuteronomy, are you from here? What do you do?

Moi: Yes. I just came back from spending a couple of years abroad. I was teaching.

15..5 L.I.: Ooh Fabulous, wheah did jew gow?

Moi: I was in Japan.

15..5 L.I.: Fahbulous. Ooh, how was that?

Moi: It was...

15..5 L.I.: How old are you?

Moi: Well, I m going to be 30 in about two weeks.

15..5 L.I.: Oh my gawd! Are you nervous? I would be TOOOtally nervous.

Moi: No, I'm not nervous. I actually am welcoming it. I feel like I'm understanding myself better at this point, and...

15..5 L.I.: Oh my gawd! Are you nervous? I would be TOOOtally nervous.

Moi: Would you like a Tic-Tac?

15..5 L.I.: Oh my gawd! Do I need one? I'm totally nervous.

Moi: No no, I'm just going to have one myself. Care for one? Two?

15..5 L.I.: Oh, OK. Thanks Deuteronomy.... Soo, I'm 21 and I'm have one more semester of NYU left and I don't know what I want to do and I don't want to work in a gallery or museum or anything like that and I want to be able to eat out a couple of nights a week and how do you guys know each other? and I have one more semester of NYU and I'm an art history major and Long Island and...

Moi: [Rising from my seat and clutching my phone like it was a garlic and I had just been jumped by a vampire] Would you excuse me for a second, I have to make a phone call.

And then I saw it. Like in s l o w m o . I saw the tic tacthat that I had sucked on for no more than 30 seconds fall from my agape mouth and land just beyond the mouth of Evian's glass on his sweater. Omg.

Moi: Omg.

15.5 L.I.: OH Deuteronomy! Don't worry. I LOVED IT!

Omg.

Evian and his friend chatted us up for a bit longer, but when it became clear that we weren't media moguls or interested in NYU nana, they kept it movin'. It was flattering to have two young young men come by and talk to us. I suppose it was nicer that my young gentleman caller wasn't grossed out by this soon-to-be 30 year old with alot of issues keeping things in his mouth. I wonder what the conversation must've been like after they left. Could it have been something like this?:


15.5 L.I.: Omg.

16.5 L.I.: What?

15.5 L.I.: That old chinese man dropped his Tic-Tac on me! It, like, fell from his mouth!

16.5 L.I.: Eew

15.5 L.I.: Omg

16.5 L.I.: Eew

15.5 L.I.: Omg. Pick Britney.

Perhaps. Hey, what can I say? They don't call it your dirty thirties for nothing. I'm just thirty drity and a bit sloppy. Whoops.

Hyaku-en Man-ty Wedg-ie

FACT: You can purchase tidy-whities (aka "male panties" aka "manties") in most Hyaku-en in Japan. The Hyaku-en store is their equivalent of our dollar store, cuz Kenji gotta eat too.
FICTION: I bought a pair that actually fit me.
FAGGOTRY:When I got wedgied, I secretly liked it. But, please, not with my over-one-dollar underwear. Thanks.

マドンナ ラキ スタ

I visited the temples in Kyoto (Kiyomizudera is my fave), bathed in white mud baths on Kyuushu, and shopped in Harajuku with my very own Harajuku girl, but I have to say that despite all these quintessentially Japanese experiences, one of my high points of living in that country was マドンナ, or Madonna. And she ain't even Japanese.

I'm telegraphing your thoughts right now. Yes, I'm a gay man. And yes, I went to the Confessions on a Dance Floor Tour, but, like with all healthy passions, I have a love/hate relationship with Madge. Personally speaking, the Madonna of the BAT was the bitch at her apex. That was the Blonde Ambition Tour, btw. After that, madge got all politcal and brit and her speech took on a mid-atlantic accent. I thought I was through, but then that "Hung Up" song dropped and the rest is history.

This is some footage that I shot at the concert. "Lucky Star" was one of my favorite performances. You might be able to tell from my singing.

Fashion Bears

I like fashion as much as the next 'mo, but I must admit, I'm not obsessed with it. So it was a surprise for me to hear that two bears have infiltrated the fashion world. And when I say bear, I don't mean just some unshaven, brawny man trying to work this season's look. No, these guys look legit. Costello Tagliapietra greet their audience at the end of their shows clad in bearific fashion from head to toe: plaid, suspenders, denim, and boots. Interesting to see this mode of queer identity adulated in a world stereotypically governed by sensitive and sleek metrosexuals. Not that bears cannot be sensitive, mind you. I wonder if they go home at night and bake red velvet cup cakes. Maybe they make furniture. OR maybe they make furniture in the shape of cupcakes. That has to be it.

Faggoty Attention

"Back to Brooklyn, get it cookin', don't cha worry no one's lookin'" - it's faggoty and catchy- omg.

PS - I've recently been told that faggoty attention is the only kind of attention that I can give. What do you think? VOTE NOW --->

"That design is so gay..."

So what's up with the lack of repping for Gay graphic designers. Yeah, yeah, there's BUTT from Amsterdam, but what else do we got?

One of my talented designer friends was recently put in charge of (and no doubt fantastically executed) a re-design of The Advocate, a project that would be a dream job for a gay designer. He, no doubt, spent many laborious hours toiling over the new design while his wife waited lonely at home. Yes, he's of the straight persuasion. While I do think that the best designer should get the job, I also think that design is about passion and learning. At least that's why I got into it. Being connected to your work is such a part of any design job, but especially in the graphic arts where it is the designer's role to elucidate the material for the reader/user. How much my beloved friend knows about who's outand who's in - what's here and what's queer - all that is questionable. He CAN work wonders with typography - that's for sure. So, then, where do we draw the line when we have a great "gay" project and two designers flexing the same graphic muscle, but one just happens to be a shit packer... It's a question that I don't have an answer for. Maybe organizations that mobilze queer graphic designers will pop up one day. We can call it Italicks... heyyy.

For Further Reading: http://blog.fawny.org/2004/12/02/perry/