BURCU'S TANGLES
When i was housesitting for Hector I took a little trip via the Blue Line to Long Beach with sexy crooner Brian Grillo. Brian loves to escape Silverlake and have breakfast in Long Beach. I wasn't feeling very well, when Brian came to pick me up on Sunday morn for the excursion, with my head cheese congestion and aching joints, but we had made plans a week before so i wanted to keep them, plus its so much fun having quality time with Brian, who i've known forever. The ride down to LB was pleasant, and surprisingly quick. I guess gang bangers don't get up before 10am. Its surprising to me how close Long Beach is, but it seems like i'm in a different part of the world. Long Beach doesn't leave you with an icky aftertaste like the San Fernando Valley. We decided to have the sunday brunch at Hamburger Mary's, it wasn't the best choice, but we were both too hungry to argue it. Luckily we were the first to arrive, so there wasn't much queeny ickyness that you would imagine would be a part of such an establishment. The cutesy plucked eyebrowed waiter kept bringing us memosa's so we were cheap dates. A little bit later there was a raging table of twinkie pies and lesbian soccer moms. Thank god we finished eating before the floor show started. Neither of us being in the mood for provincial drag.
We took a walk along the main gay strip which is really gentrified these days. I can remember back in the late 70s and early 80s when that part of long beach was funky and chunky. We continued drinking at the leather bar The Mine Shaft, with this olde school bartender who kept buying us shots. My summer cold was making me too uncomfortable, so we headed back to Hollywood before the beerbust crowd arrived.
***
Last night's Bricktops was our first after the announcement of the Parlour's closing. It seems like the word is out, and there were tons of well wishers, and cutie pies. The evenings theme was a salute to cubist Georges Braque, and art historian Robert Summers gave an amazing lecture with hoary visuals. Pacific Northwest bawdy burlesque queen Loud Louisa gave a hilarious performance and Madame Bricktops did a tribute to matinee idol Tom Cruise.
Latest Tom Cruise Gossip: Tom got caught in bed with Rob Thomas by Thomas' wife, and they've paid her off royally to not go to the media. I don't know if i believe this tale, as Tom is a notorious dinge queen and only has sex with black men, and Mr. Rob Thomas and his plucky pop music career is sooooo white, he's even whiter then Tom Cruise. I have to give Tom some credit here---he doesn't like bland lovers, he needs men who can fill his hole-----at all cost, squirrel has to get his gnut!
Pirate Jenny outdid herself in the DJ booth. She was playing the best music and everyone was dancing wildly and franticly---thats the way it should be. Mary Mary and Shauna Leone were leading everyone down that primrose promordial path. I shared a nice flirtation with the unbelievably sexy faith based scholar Reza Aslan whose new book "No God but God" is the summer's hottest read. I hope hunky Reza comes back again, i'd like to chew the cud off of his muslim peni.
I was so exhausted at the end of the night, and my beautiful Andrew of Gould made me one hell of a delicious vegi burger back at his Los Feliz compound.
THE
. . .From the Counsel of Inter-Continental Balistic Principalities
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Saturday, July 02, 2005
Thursday, June 30, 2005
CHIETA ZATEL
Updata on Bricktops. Bricktops will continue at the Parlour Club until the end of July so make every Friday count by making yourself present, alert and of the moment. For those of you who have never been to Bricktops at the Parlour Club now's your time to experience something very special.
No word yet on what venue Bricktops could move to. The space would have to be extroidinary, with a full bar and cheap, cheap drinks. Please feel free to email Vaginal Davis with any suggestions c/o Gleeson Brevard at gleebrevard@aol.com.
Below is a transcript of art historian Robert Summers amazing lecture on Garland Modalities that he gave at Bricktops last Friday. He will be giving another lecture tomorrow on the topic of Georges Braque & Picasso's homo pathology. Get to the club early so you don't miss it--that means 10:30pm sharp.
Garland Modalities
By Dr. Robert Summers
Art Historian to the Schtars
It’s a well-known fact (it almost goes without saying) that Judy Garland was and is the Grande Dame of the modern-day fag hag; there were, of course, proto-predecessors, if you will, like Helen of Troy and Mary Magdalene, but they were more "beards" than fag hags. But Judy on the other hand, in one fell swoop, reconfigured and redeployed the "beard" (which some people still participate in, say, for example, Tom Cruise and whoever he is "dating") into the fag hag, proper. In more ways than one, the fag’s other, the hag, was transformed from an act to a literal doing and a being—just like the invention of homosexuality in 1780, the fag hag was now an identity category. But, going back to the beard, I guess one does have to come out of the closet (or the restroom stall) in order to have the beard’s other be a fag, so the beard can become—but never cum—a hag of a certain fag.
On that note, maybe being a fag hag is a reciprocal condition. I mean all us fag hags. (Yes, I am a fag hag! Nowhere does it say you have to be a woman to be a fag hag, and anyways I have a juicy, little cunt… and any of the straight boys can come see it some time—I am so tired of my fags peeking into and poking around my ‘gina to see and feel how it would be and feel like to actually love pussy.)
Moving on, all us fag hags had to, at one point or another, give our gay boys the courage to come out, which would be what I call one of the actions in a "Garland Modality; or, Garland Fag Haggery," which is to say that there are certain procedures, for example in Garland’s case—and even lovely Liza’s case— to help one’s (gay) friend, boyfriend, or husband "come out, come out, wherever you are," which, in the case of Garland’s husbands, were usually the bushes, where he, the lovely hubby, was "just helpin’ the gardener." So, Garland married gay men and loved her fans, which also all happened to be gay men—not to mention a few lipstick lesbians who were also dreaming of stardom and the spotlight—as well as the fabulous outfits, make-up, and high-heels.
Now, what many don’t know about Judy is that she was the top in her marriages. She had the best stap-ons in the world! And, YSL, her dear friend, made her the most precious strap-on that money and love could buy. (By the way, Demi Moore bought it at an auction for 1.3 million—Ashton is thrilled!) Eventually every one of Judy’s husbands would "come out," and join the circle of fags that would surround her—and the same will happen to Ashton. Us fag hags are always helping our boys realize their full potential!
Recently, I had tea with Liza at the "W" in New York, we discussed her fag haggery, which she fully accepts and promotes (I mean it’s in her blood—how can she not accept it!) and her dearly departed friend, Andy Warhol’s, hag fagism: which is kind-of like fag hagism but without the weight problem. Anyway, Liza told me that Judy always topped her (gay) husbands, and she experienced more than one mudslide. So, I asked Liza how Judy handled this—I mean we all know the woman hated messes! And to my surprise I found out that Liza was a medium to the "other side." So there, at the W, we contacted Judy! I asked Judy (via Liza) how she dealt with shit shooting out of her hubbies butts like a proverbial "Old Faithful". And she said, in her beautiful, crusty, bourbon and Demerol induced voice, "if you can’t feel your body, then you can’t feel the shit, or smell it either! In a sense I am always ‘over the rainbow’". Yes, she was, she was.
Liza, whom I didn’t know was so gifted with contacting the spirit world, also helped me channel back in time, to the night of July 22, 1969, just weeks after her 47th birthday, I saw Judy on the floor of her bedroom with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a ruby slipper in the other—which I think had some shit on the heel. She looked up into the sky and said "Arlen, Arlen, why hast thou forsaken me … I don’t know if I am gonna make it over the rainbow, but hopefully these Benzedrine will get me over it, and then she died—like Jesus Christ, but with a drug and alcohol problem, a gay husband, a baby fag hag daughter, and a ruby shoe with shit on it. The scene was like a tragic yet beautiful death scene painted by the sodomite Caravaggio—like his so many images of Jesus Christ suffering. Indeed, like Jesus Christ (the) Superstar, Judy died for all of our sins, and especially for all the fag hags, whose right is the Kingdom of Heaven, because we have given our lives to gay men who wont ever return the love; we have been there day and night for our gay "boy friends" and our fag friends—all those men who use and abuse us but whom we love, and will continue to love as long as there are narcotics, liquor, and, yes, ice-cream!
Thank you & Goodnight
Updata on Bricktops. Bricktops will continue at the Parlour Club until the end of July so make every Friday count by making yourself present, alert and of the moment. For those of you who have never been to Bricktops at the Parlour Club now's your time to experience something very special.
No word yet on what venue Bricktops could move to. The space would have to be extroidinary, with a full bar and cheap, cheap drinks. Please feel free to email Vaginal Davis with any suggestions c/o Gleeson Brevard at gleebrevard@aol.com.
Below is a transcript of art historian Robert Summers amazing lecture on Garland Modalities that he gave at Bricktops last Friday. He will be giving another lecture tomorrow on the topic of Georges Braque & Picasso's homo pathology. Get to the club early so you don't miss it--that means 10:30pm sharp.
Garland Modalities
By Dr. Robert Summers
Art Historian to the Schtars
It’s a well-known fact (it almost goes without saying) that Judy Garland was and is the Grande Dame of the modern-day fag hag; there were, of course, proto-predecessors, if you will, like Helen of Troy and Mary Magdalene, but they were more "beards" than fag hags. But Judy on the other hand, in one fell swoop, reconfigured and redeployed the "beard" (which some people still participate in, say, for example, Tom Cruise and whoever he is "dating") into the fag hag, proper. In more ways than one, the fag’s other, the hag, was transformed from an act to a literal doing and a being—just like the invention of homosexuality in 1780, the fag hag was now an identity category. But, going back to the beard, I guess one does have to come out of the closet (or the restroom stall) in order to have the beard’s other be a fag, so the beard can become—but never cum—a hag of a certain fag.
On that note, maybe being a fag hag is a reciprocal condition. I mean all us fag hags. (Yes, I am a fag hag! Nowhere does it say you have to be a woman to be a fag hag, and anyways I have a juicy, little cunt… and any of the straight boys can come see it some time—I am so tired of my fags peeking into and poking around my ‘gina to see and feel how it would be and feel like to actually love pussy.)
Moving on, all us fag hags had to, at one point or another, give our gay boys the courage to come out, which would be what I call one of the actions in a "Garland Modality; or, Garland Fag Haggery," which is to say that there are certain procedures, for example in Garland’s case—and even lovely Liza’s case— to help one’s (gay) friend, boyfriend, or husband "come out, come out, wherever you are," which, in the case of Garland’s husbands, were usually the bushes, where he, the lovely hubby, was "just helpin’ the gardener." So, Garland married gay men and loved her fans, which also all happened to be gay men—not to mention a few lipstick lesbians who were also dreaming of stardom and the spotlight—as well as the fabulous outfits, make-up, and high-heels.
Now, what many don’t know about Judy is that she was the top in her marriages. She had the best stap-ons in the world! And, YSL, her dear friend, made her the most precious strap-on that money and love could buy. (By the way, Demi Moore bought it at an auction for 1.3 million—Ashton is thrilled!) Eventually every one of Judy’s husbands would "come out," and join the circle of fags that would surround her—and the same will happen to Ashton. Us fag hags are always helping our boys realize their full potential!
Recently, I had tea with Liza at the "W" in New York, we discussed her fag haggery, which she fully accepts and promotes (I mean it’s in her blood—how can she not accept it!) and her dearly departed friend, Andy Warhol’s, hag fagism: which is kind-of like fag hagism but without the weight problem. Anyway, Liza told me that Judy always topped her (gay) husbands, and she experienced more than one mudslide. So, I asked Liza how Judy handled this—I mean we all know the woman hated messes! And to my surprise I found out that Liza was a medium to the "other side." So there, at the W, we contacted Judy! I asked Judy (via Liza) how she dealt with shit shooting out of her hubbies butts like a proverbial "Old Faithful". And she said, in her beautiful, crusty, bourbon and Demerol induced voice, "if you can’t feel your body, then you can’t feel the shit, or smell it either! In a sense I am always ‘over the rainbow’". Yes, she was, she was.
Liza, whom I didn’t know was so gifted with contacting the spirit world, also helped me channel back in time, to the night of July 22, 1969, just weeks after her 47th birthday, I saw Judy on the floor of her bedroom with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a ruby slipper in the other—which I think had some shit on the heel. She looked up into the sky and said "Arlen, Arlen, why hast thou forsaken me … I don’t know if I am gonna make it over the rainbow, but hopefully these Benzedrine will get me over it, and then she died—like Jesus Christ, but with a drug and alcohol problem, a gay husband, a baby fag hag daughter, and a ruby shoe with shit on it. The scene was like a tragic yet beautiful death scene painted by the sodomite Caravaggio—like his so many images of Jesus Christ suffering. Indeed, like Jesus Christ (the) Superstar, Judy died for all of our sins, and especially for all the fag hags, whose right is the Kingdom of Heaven, because we have given our lives to gay men who wont ever return the love; we have been there day and night for our gay "boy friends" and our fag friends—all those men who use and abuse us but whom we love, and will continue to love as long as there are narcotics, liquor, and, yes, ice-cream!
Thank you & Goodnight
Monday, June 27, 2005
SEDATARY RODUCTA
Went to screenings a few weeks ago of Batman Returns and Bewitched. I adore Christian Bale, he is super super sexy, and although Batman was dark and bequiling, i simply can't recommend it. Bewitched is a mess of a film. Too bad, because Nicole Kidman is adorable and with Shirley MacLaine and Michael Caine in supporting roles, this film could have been bright and breezy, but instead its thudish. And I'm sorry Wil Ferrel both a TV star doth not a matinee idol make. He should go back to Saturday Nite Live. He isn't ready for the big screen. How wonder the movie business has been in a slump lately. As a member of the 5th estate i get invited to screening of new films all the time, and i would never pay money to see most of these Hollywood flicks being released. I'll be happy when the major studios close shop for good.
D'Arcy Drollinger who use to be in the kitchy San Francisco band Enrique invited me to his rock musical play "The Possession of Mrs. Jones at the Zephyr Theatre on the Melrose Strip. I wasn't aware of D'Arcy's career, but he's made a bunch of these plays that are in a similar vein. I'd guess i'd have to describe them as being very Charles Buschesque. D'Arcy also helped mount the John Waters broadway musical Hairspray.
I've never been a big fan of Broadway musicals. I'm not a showtune queen, in the proper sense. Back in the early 90s my New York mentor George Byron forced me to see David Drake and his awful play "The Night Larry Kramer Fist Fucked Me". All the queens in the audience were crying during it, and i sat there stone faced and bored out of my goad. George also took me to the umpteenth revival of Hello Dolly with Carol Channing. That was so olde school, it was actually new school. Ms. Channing received a standing ovation every time she opened her mouth. And she is quite a presence on stage, with all her mugging and throwing in everything but the kitchen sink, then she actually does throw in the kitchen sink. But somehow it works.
This Possession of Mrs. Jones Play was cute, and obviously a lot of work went into it. Shauna Leone, one of my Bricktops girls did the costumes which were divine and the set design was also lovely. Some of the acting was also quite good especially from some of the supporting cast memembers like the actress who played the Tupperware Lady---I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, and she was the only one when she sang gave the appropiate early 60s Connie Francis like pop music delivery.
The director of the play also directed one of the Reece Witherspoon Legally Blonde comedies, so that pretty much tells you the aesthetics here.
My escort for the evening was Jason El Norte. Poor Jason had to work until 6:30 so we had to rush to make the 8O'clock start time, which put me in a foul mood. I've been really congested lately, not able to get much sleep and to top of that I was hungry.
Bricktops on Friday was devoted to that super dinge queen Harold Arlen. Professor Robert Summers a prominent art historian, started things off with a blast with his lecture entitled "Garland Modalities, Arlens'Over the Rainbow and the Fag Hag New Order" Everyone learned that Helen of Troy and Mary Magdelene were two of histories first fag hags. Buster Beaute' from the Bruce La Bruce movie "Hustler White" performed one of his legendary male burlesque numbers and the gorgeous and voluptuous Anna Bells, the Fishnet Floozy, tore it up dancing to a saucy Dinah Washington song and looking very sexy with her new hairstyle. Headliner The Hobo Jazz Band showed that they are they hardest working combo in town. I loved their new fiddle player---the boys keep getting better and better. Miss Mary Pagone was a vision as she taxi danced up on the podium. The celebs in the audience included Penny Starr Junior and photographer Don Spiro, David J. of Bauhaus, Jane Fondas's horny son Troy Garity who was flirting shamelessly with Cory Marie who was in the foyer selling her wonderful Bricktops posters, artists Matt Lipps and Lucas Michel were doing helicopters with their 20+ inches of man meat.
On a sad note, the Parlour Club owner Lenny the Young Elder just got an offer he couldn't refuse from Sean MacPhearson of Bar Marmount fame so unfortunately the Parlour Club and Bricktops will be no more. The last Bricktops will most likely be mid July, so keep checking www.Vaginaldavis.com to see if Madame Bricky moves to another venue.
Went to screenings a few weeks ago of Batman Returns and Bewitched. I adore Christian Bale, he is super super sexy, and although Batman was dark and bequiling, i simply can't recommend it. Bewitched is a mess of a film. Too bad, because Nicole Kidman is adorable and with Shirley MacLaine and Michael Caine in supporting roles, this film could have been bright and breezy, but instead its thudish. And I'm sorry Wil Ferrel both a TV star doth not a matinee idol make. He should go back to Saturday Nite Live. He isn't ready for the big screen. How wonder the movie business has been in a slump lately. As a member of the 5th estate i get invited to screening of new films all the time, and i would never pay money to see most of these Hollywood flicks being released. I'll be happy when the major studios close shop for good.
D'Arcy Drollinger who use to be in the kitchy San Francisco band Enrique invited me to his rock musical play "The Possession of Mrs. Jones at the Zephyr Theatre on the Melrose Strip. I wasn't aware of D'Arcy's career, but he's made a bunch of these plays that are in a similar vein. I'd guess i'd have to describe them as being very Charles Buschesque. D'Arcy also helped mount the John Waters broadway musical Hairspray.
I've never been a big fan of Broadway musicals. I'm not a showtune queen, in the proper sense. Back in the early 90s my New York mentor George Byron forced me to see David Drake and his awful play "The Night Larry Kramer Fist Fucked Me". All the queens in the audience were crying during it, and i sat there stone faced and bored out of my goad. George also took me to the umpteenth revival of Hello Dolly with Carol Channing. That was so olde school, it was actually new school. Ms. Channing received a standing ovation every time she opened her mouth. And she is quite a presence on stage, with all her mugging and throwing in everything but the kitchen sink, then she actually does throw in the kitchen sink. But somehow it works.
This Possession of Mrs. Jones Play was cute, and obviously a lot of work went into it. Shauna Leone, one of my Bricktops girls did the costumes which were divine and the set design was also lovely. Some of the acting was also quite good especially from some of the supporting cast memembers like the actress who played the Tupperware Lady---I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, and she was the only one when she sang gave the appropiate early 60s Connie Francis like pop music delivery.
The director of the play also directed one of the Reece Witherspoon Legally Blonde comedies, so that pretty much tells you the aesthetics here.
My escort for the evening was Jason El Norte. Poor Jason had to work until 6:30 so we had to rush to make the 8O'clock start time, which put me in a foul mood. I've been really congested lately, not able to get much sleep and to top of that I was hungry.
Bricktops on Friday was devoted to that super dinge queen Harold Arlen. Professor Robert Summers a prominent art historian, started things off with a blast with his lecture entitled "Garland Modalities, Arlens'Over the Rainbow and the Fag Hag New Order" Everyone learned that Helen of Troy and Mary Magdelene were two of histories first fag hags. Buster Beaute' from the Bruce La Bruce movie "Hustler White" performed one of his legendary male burlesque numbers and the gorgeous and voluptuous Anna Bells, the Fishnet Floozy, tore it up dancing to a saucy Dinah Washington song and looking very sexy with her new hairstyle. Headliner The Hobo Jazz Band showed that they are they hardest working combo in town. I loved their new fiddle player---the boys keep getting better and better. Miss Mary Pagone was a vision as she taxi danced up on the podium. The celebs in the audience included Penny Starr Junior and photographer Don Spiro, David J. of Bauhaus, Jane Fondas's horny son Troy Garity who was flirting shamelessly with Cory Marie who was in the foyer selling her wonderful Bricktops posters, artists Matt Lipps and Lucas Michel were doing helicopters with their 20+ inches of man meat.
On a sad note, the Parlour Club owner Lenny the Young Elder just got an offer he couldn't refuse from Sean MacPhearson of Bar Marmount fame so unfortunately the Parlour Club and Bricktops will be no more. The last Bricktops will most likely be mid July, so keep checking www.Vaginaldavis.com to see if Madame Bricky moves to another venue.