Their design is based on the MTA Subway maps. (Just in case you're reading this from a far way place like Manila, Timbuktu, or Oz). See the rules, type, and colors... A very accurate homage to the design system of our subway map. Better than the attempt in the recreation of the Spring Street subway station in Cloverfield. But I digress.
What's even better is that just like Squid brand fish sauce, Thai iced tea and Theravada Buddhism The NYC condoms are a Product of Thailand And, so I'd like to express a hearty ขอบคุณครับ, or thanks, to my Thai Brothers and Sisters (good looks Pim!) for looking out for your friends, homo and breeder alike, here in New York!
Afterword: I am aware that Theravada Buddhism has its roots outside of the Kingdom of Thailand, but the picture of the monks. Need I say more?
Going a little Deee-Lite crazy at the moment (look around). I just can't help it. I remember then I first bought World Clique. I remember smelling the packaging and thinking that the paper smelled like perfume. Don't know why. I had the cassette. It's like that. I was walking down memory lane and came across some oldies but goodies.
The video to "Good Beat". This song - listening to it makes me feel like dancing. Such an uplifting song. All true too - I just wanna hear a good beat. Fur Ril.
This is some rare footage of Towa Tei talking. Apparently it's from a Japanese TV show called Funky Tomato. I love Kier's outfit (Green is one of my faves - I mean pink gotta take a break sometimes). Oh, and was she gearing up for an appearance on Iron Chef with that laugh?
Remember Tabitha Soren? She's so forgettable.
Vote Baby, Vote!
"It was the Drag Queens that taught me GLAMOUR..." By the way, was there ever any doubt that she didn't lip synched?
Could my taste in music be symptomatic of my aging? Yo No Know. Pero, I think Michael Bublé is super dooper cute. I thought I was over what used to be a constant craving for crackers, what with all the miso dick I got in Japan... but this white boy is still doin' it to me. Sing it white boy. I'll get lost with you anytime (but don't talk, just listen).
When Artner is not shopping online for designer home furnishings for her new pussy pad in CO, she can be found working it out in craft shops in Middle Earth. These were two trinkets were snagged for me recently. Since my Queer Cape is already emblazoned with a V (no I didn't make gay Varsity... I'm the coach bitch), Artner gave me a tiny D. D is for Dick. And Deuteronomy. She also got me a fruit basket. If I need to explain that one, well then you just haven't been reading. Clever, that Artner. I guess that's why she spends her days thinking about how to get people to buy things in MIddle Earth.
P A P P I N ' Oh, had you not known about Ms. Britney Houston. This girl is off the meter. Look at dem moves! Bitch better WORK! This video is so much better than the original. Please don't overdose on Lip Gloss Brit-Hue! Keep It Pappin'!
Last Sunday I attended a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese for Lana. She's Four.
While a part of me was reluctant to go (kids, germs, work to do, blah-blah-belch), the inner child threw himself on the floor got his way. I really was hoping for a spectacle of sorts, but I realized very early into the thing that I had to provide the spectacle myself. Why does it always have to be that way?
Luckily they have Chuck E TV. Don't you think this image is kinda creepy? Like I'm being haunted by a weird college mascot? Either that or some chicken head I went to high school with... OH! Doubily Lukily the kids that I hung out with were adorable. The kid with the curls to my left is Cheez-It. Not his real name, btw. Cheez-It posing with the birthday girl herself, Lana Marie. 1/2 + 1/2 = 1 LOVE. Don't Lana and Cheez-It look soo adorably collegiate? Lana is a budding painter and actress. This is a side by side comparison of Lana's work and that of the famous artist, Cy Twombly. Not too shabby-chic that Lana, wouldn t you say? Like most tempermental artists, she doen't like the her spotlight to be taken away. Mouse or no mouse. Luckily, the mouse seemed to be of the pink variety. All in all, not a bad jaunt to the local Chuck E Cheezy. Had some pizza, did the hokey pokey, and sucked on a nice cold one. Maybe I should take my name off the list at The Dugout and have my 21st bday here...hmm...
Last Meal: Hot Pot in Flushing Queens Last Expense: New glasses for Diva Last Train: The 3 to 116th Last Song: "Up In Here" by DMX Last Excusion: Punta Cana, DR Last Wake Up: 10:30 AM Last Artwork: PANDA Call for entries Last Telephone call: Diva (with 5 secs to go 'fore the 2008) Last Email Received: Facebook telling me I've been Super Poked Last sound heard: The crunching of doritos in my mouth Last Dream: Being in Japan talking about ikebana. Last Outfit: Cape on cape on cape crime Last Fantasy: Living in Europe Last smell: Narciso Rodriguez for him (sex in a bottle)
I knew I was getting better at Japanese when I could sing a couple of lines from a Pink Lady song. Since everyone in Japan knows this duo and their songs (a usual pick at any karaoke outing), my lyrical skills proved to be a good ice breaker when miming and voguing just weren't enough breach the communication gap. After teaching in the countryside and moving to the city I learned that Pink Lady wasn't just MY obsession, but also the idols of the gay Japanese community at large. Uh Duh! Loved for their pop, uppity ditties and even more for their ricockulous choreography, Mie and Kei are held close to the hearts of many fags worldwide.
These are three of my favorite Pinku Reidei songs. ゲイポワー！
"Carmen" [カルマン] English lyrics here. Ki ito Ki ito suki na sase masu = I'll surely surely make you love me Be sure to use that one at the bar faggots.
"UFO" No Japanese? Chikyuu u no otoko ni akita tokoro yo = I'm bored of earth men OK sistas!
Hey papi. If you haven't seen Cachorro, or, as it is known in English, Bear Cub, you may want to if you are into films about hairy gay men and surrogate parenthood. Charming, really. You may also want to see it if you're into cute Spanish daddies like José Luis García Pérez (look up). I know he's straight and all, but why do I find myself combining our names and writing it repeatedly like a boy-crazy post-pubescent girl? (<--I hate this widow by the way).
Señor Deuteronomy Madrid García Pérez Señor Deuteronomy Madrid García Pérez Señor Deuteronomy Madrid García Pérez Señor Deuteronomy Madrid García Pérez Señor Deuteronomy Madrid García Pérez . . .
It all started as a casual nite on the town. On the uptown.
The Professor and I decided to catch up over some Soul Food. Given the two options she knew well, I decided to try "Billie's Black" since it sounded less "wham-bam-you need some jam for that corn bread, honey?" and more like a place where we could chill and re-cap the days of our lives (the real shit because our lives are way more epic than any soap could ever be).
So there we were listening ghetto tales being recounted on Kiss FM and savoring our fried seafood. For the record, I had the fried catfish, collard greens and mac-n-cheese, while the scholar feasted on crab cakes and the mac... we shared the garlic mash. MMM. Somewhere between my fourth bite of my catfish and my sudden hankering for a "ta-ta-tini", a book labeled "Karaoke with Wes Black" was delivered our table. $CHA CHING$ JACKPOT! Soul Karaoke in Harlem World, NYC. What What!!! Omg.. What a dream come true.
A seasoned Kara-okay-er from my days of living the mountains of Japan, I had been dreaming of the day when I would be in a black setting swooning and crooning my attempts at R-n-B. What I never guessed (foolishly so) is that the event would turn out to be not only a black thing, but a gay thing as well. Yes, the homo thugs were in the house. As well was an older fag-cum-oddity who seemed to rock Mardi Gras beads like it was Fat Tuesday in New Orleans. Also along for the ride were some soulful sisters with their booties tucked in the back, but their voices upfront for all to hear. And then there was Ray Charles. Honestly, this guy summoned the great one's spirit.. freakishly so.
And now for the highlights:
Homo Thug 1: "Heartbreak Hotel" (be sure to whisper those words for the added whitney effect), "Unbreak My Heart", "Say My Name", and some others that I don't remember. This guy definitely stole the show with his "little body and big package". I'm talking about his voice, of course.
Homo thug 1 + 2 did a rendition of "I Will Always Love You" (Whitney from "The Bodyguard" soundtrack). Yes, they did. They concluded their performance with "That was good, I liked that." and a boy on boy hug. Homos in hood. Gotta love it.
Mardi Gras did an un"believe"able double whammy of "Believe in Yourself" form The WIz (!!!) followed immediately by Cher's "Believe". I think I can still here his tone deaf voice ringing out "in love in love in love in love" on that one. I also would like to mention that this dude had to glance back at the lyrics for The Wiz, but was totally fine with the Cher. I know, Cher's diddy is a piece of cake compared to that heartfelt classic of melodious encouragement. Not to mention the fag anthem gets more play in boyland down (Christopher Street), somewhere that I think Mardi might be found when he's not adjusting his specs on 119th street.
Oh, and there was also "The boy is mine(s)" performance by Homo Thug and Mardi Gras. Seriously, if I had captured this on video I might be in the running for the Hugo Boss Prize for Contemporary Art as it weaved together so many issues of sexuality, race, pop culture, and the marginalized. A hot mess. (mental note: need new digital camera).
The Scholar and I performed four songs in total.
"Bag Lady" by Erykah Badu Now if we did more booty grinding on that stage to that song, we might have just gotten some free cheesecake. I'm talkin' to my Gucci bag lady. Four Stars (I'm judging this).
"Sweet Thing" by Chaka Kahn I'm not sure about the Prof., but I was doing the Mary J. Blige version of this classic. We harmonized and soul sistered to this track. After singing we came up with our new group name, "High School Musical". Not to be confused with the move y'all; merely a reference to our track selection as it proved to be the soundtrack of our adolescent pasts. I just want to satisfy ya, cuz you're not mine and I can't deny it. Four stars.
"All Around the World" by Lisa Stansfield Could a white woman have ever sounded so black. Could a fag and a black gurl ever have sounded so good? We were joined on this track by MissFitt. With her addition, H.S. Musical became more firece and racially diverse. I'll never give up looking for my baby. Four Stars.
"Hold On" by En Vogue To close out our night with Wes and the crew, we did the song that put those four sisters known as En Vogue on the map. Sure it was hard to hit those notes at the beginning of the song, but that did not stop our new legion of fans from getting up and miming the the dance moves from the low-budge video. Give him love everyday, remember he needs space. Be patient and he'll give his heart to you. Four Stars.
With that H.S. musical bid Sayonara, Adieu, and Asa Lama Lakim to Billie's Black. But we will be back. So you hold on to your love, you bag lady sweet things! We been around the world, and we'll be back for more.... Love, H.S. Musical
If everything you do has got a hold on me Then everything I do has got a hole in it I’ve been here before I should be used to it But I can’t take it no more, I can’t take it no more Oh whoa, oh whoa whoa whoa
Your mangled heart, your battered love that’s hanging on to memories You’re letting go of everything that used to be I’ve had enough, you'll build me up to let me down, yeah
If everything I do has got a hole in it Then everything you do has got a hold on me I’ve been here before I should be used to it But I can’t take it no more, I can’t take it no more Oh whoa, oh whoaaaa
Your mangled heart, your battered love that’s hanging on to memories You’re letting go of everything that used to be I’ve had enough, you'll build me up to let me down Oooh, Your mangled heart, your battered love that’s hanging on to memories You’re letting go of everything that used to be I’ve had enough, you'll build me up to let me down, yeah
I don’t want the world, I only want what I deserve I don’t want the world, the world, I only want what I deserve I don’t want the world, the world, I only want what I deserve
Your mangled heart, your battered love that’s hanging on to memories You’re letting go of everything that used to be I’ve had enough, you'll build me up to let me down
Your mangled heart, your battered love that's hanging on to memories You're letting go of everything that used to be I've had enough, you'll build me up to let me down
Damn Vlad, were you bedding tiny nymphets or little gnomes? I had the same thoughts exactly the other night. And lemme tell you, I'm NOT into the nymphet thing.
Whereas Nabokov's tragic hero faces his own demons of paedophelia, I recently faced my own insecurities of trying to top. And top I did, albeit a very brief entry. As time proceeds, though, this quote resonates stronger. While my gnomish partner and I enjoyed the pleasures of fornication, I'm left to wonder what it will be like to consort with larger men, bigger mates. While I also believe that the sensations are much the same, a new door of possibility has opened up for exploration. Perhaps it' s the path to that "routine rhythm that shakes the world". Maybe it's all that I've been waiting for. Then again, who am I kidding? It's just butt sex.
Can anybody find me somebody to love? Each morning I get up I die a little Can barely stand on my feet Take a look in the mirror and cry Lord what you're doing to me I have spent all my years in believing you But I just can't get no relief, Lord! Somebody, somebody Can anybody find me somebody to love?
I work hard every day of my life I work till I ache my bones At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own - I get down on my knees And I start to pray Till the tears run down from my eyes Lord - somebody - somebody Can anybody find me - somebody to love?
(He works hard)
Everyday - I try and I try and I try - But everybody wants to put me down They say I'm goin' crazy They say I got a lot of water in my brain Got no common sense I got nobody left to believe Yeah - yeah yeah yeah
Oh Lord Somebody - somebody Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Got no feel, I got no rhythm I just keep losing my beat I'm ok, I'm alright Ain't gonna face no defeat I just gotta get out of this prison cell Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!
Find me somebody to love Can anybody find me somebody to love?
If only Kinsey had a scale that measured the various degrees of topness and bottomness. Some fags are clear as to what role they play in the bedroom. Instictive, I suppose. Some of us, however, are either unclear, or just ambitious.
I created this bidness card for myself, riffing off of one that i made for my sister. It stares you blankly in the face, in all it's helvetica glory, asking you to fill in the appropriate response. I know you're dying for the day to get one of these cards left behind on the kitchen counter. If you get one, mail it back will ya? I'm keeping tabs. xoxo
I cuddle with Pandas. I cuddle with wizards. I even cuddle with pillows ( " - " ). But perhaps one of my most interesting cuddling friends is Mr. Zimmer, or was he is known by a wider audience, simply Zimmer.
Zimmer lives in an abandoned chocolate factory not very far from his Art School Alma Mater, Pratt (when inclined to perform feats of doggie artistry, he goes by the moniker "Samo"). His cozy coat makes him attactive in bed, especially on the fiercest of winter mornings. What I cannot vouch positively for, however, is his insane halitosis. Bad doggie breath aside, Zimmer is in a class by himself. Upon a recent jaunt to the chocolate factory, I decided to ask Zimmer about his foul odor. The following conversation ensued:
Me: Ohh little Zimmer, why do you have such corrupt doggie breath.
Z.: (Looks up and flaps his tongue, unleashing more of the corruption.
Me: Don't do that! Whew, your shit be stankin'!
Z.: (Bats his eyes in an adorable fashion no doubt mastered on modeling sets - oh he is a doggie model. Had you not known?)
Me: Corruption. Let me hug you.
Z.: (Gets scooped up and looks at TRB for cuddling advice)
Me: Good corruption. Aww. Corruption.
FIN
Yeah, he's a bit stank, but we love him. Here's to you Zimmer. The one and only.
Apparently I talk in my sleep. This I'm told by my artner that I conveniently share a bed with. Or, shall I say shared a bed with.
Last Saturday morning, I was apparently rolling underneath the sheets. Amid the rustle of cotton, she heard some kind of moaning but not a sexual moan. Something more along the lines of a dog crying because his mother removed her tit from his salivating mouth. Damn, how's that for graphic. Anyhoo. So, whah whah, there's some muffled whimpering. Artner says that it happened for a good minute or two when suddenly the whimpering became language.
If ever you meet artner, ask her to tell you the story. It's so funny and unbelivable. I swear I didn't do it. The illustration above is hers. That's me lying on my side with those highly articulated words coming out of my mouth post whimper a la Britney Spears.
Sometimes mixed drinks can be a bit too sweet. Have you ever experienced that? Recently, on a jaunt to the DR, my friends and family just could not get a decent drink. Everything was way too sweet. The pina coladas, the daquiris, the margaritas - it was as if someone was conspiring to spread diabetes across the resort. What does one do when the libations are too saccharin sweet for your drinking pleasure? What else, but shoot skittles from your bum.
Yo: OMG. These drinks are so sweet, I'm going to fart a Starburst.
Ellos y Ellas: hee hee hee haw haw haw
(after another pina colada)
Yo: Jeeez! I think I'm going to shit a Jolly Rancher tomorrow!
Ellos y Ellas: ra ra ra ra ra ra
(borderline diabetic at this point)
Yo: Yo, for real!
Ellos y Ellas: Porque?!? What had happened?!?
Yo: These drinks are so sweet, I'm going to shit skittles.
At this point, my girl, The Professor, and I had one of those moments when we knew that our stars REALLY did cross paths and that we are living in parallel universes.
Yo y The Professor (simultaneously and unrehearsed): TASTE THE RAINBOW!
So, yeah kids. Whether you are in the DR or at Papi Cock or at Esquelita, please use the following line:
"My ass is so sweet, I shit skittles. Wanna taste the rainbow?" - DM + The Professor
I was King for the day at my Karaoke birthday extravaganza. The beloved Lady Esquire made some red velvet cup cakes in honor of the event and the Tinga Tinga crew completed the candle blowout with their rendition of Mariah's "Vison of Love". See for yourself on the You Tube Videos below. Thanks to all who came out to celebrate the Dirty Thirty - xo. And thanks for the crown Little Man...xoxo
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!
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.
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.
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.
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/
I've neglected my faggy audience. I'm sorry, but I've been hijacked by a breeder. Ugh.
I've been almost attached at the hip to my art-ner, J Lew full of Hulabaloo, of late. BLACK PANDA, our quasi-revolutionary, Asian-centric art project/collective has taken control of our lives, both day and night. Cooped up so cozy in PANDA HQ makes me wonder if that's what being straight is like. I mean, living in such confined quarters and sharing everything (especially matress space) with the opposite sex gets me some sort of breeder badge, don't it? One thing is for certain, though, not even in the name of art am I going "downtown" for BLACK PANDA. I'm staying in queer in Williamsburg where homosexuality seems as trendy as day-glo nikes...werd up.
PS - We're making the ￥ sign - can'chuu tell? PANDA!
Deuteronomy Madrid is one of the many personalities of your beloved, queer author. The moniker of "Deuteronomy" (the fifth book of The Bible) was adopted because of the author's fascination and respect for Jewish males all over. DM's family includes such notables as Bleekah-Madison Madrid, Niimura Katsutoshi, Yuko Propaganda, and Lexicon Reyes. He has worked for the Fergie, the Dutchess of York, not the humpy hip-hopstress, and is credited as the cover designer for her fabulous diet book, Energy Breakthrough.
