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
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.
