An ad hoc group of black gay and lesbian activists is sponsoring an AIDS forum to be held February 1 [1984] at Hunter College [in New York City]. The group was formed, said DeWitt Hoard, a social worker and group member, because they "had attended several symposiums and noticed that there was a lack of blacks in the audiences and among the symposium participants." This lack of participation is attributed by many to a widespread belief among black gay men, as well as the black community in general, that AIDS is a white disease, a perception fostered by the exclusive media attention given to white gay men with AIDS. The fact that 26 percent of those with AIDS are black is an indication that "we've been hit just as hard by this epidemic," said Isaac Jackson, another group member, "and it is vitally important that information be disseminated throughout our community."
The group decided to hold this forum on the first of the month because it is the beginning of Black History Month, a date which becomes "quite significant," said Gwen Rogers, the forum's moderator, "when you consider that we, as black lesbians and gay people, certainly are concerned about all aspects of our oppression. This will be the opportunity for us to raise the issue of the struggle against AIDS, to raise the issue of AIDS as a health concern, to raise the demand that health care is a right, and to highlight the fact that as lesbians and gay people, we've certainly been a part of the struggle and this is a way to be very visible and active."
The ad hoc committee see the AIDS issue as being part of the overall concern for better health care delivery with the total black community. They also see the socio-economic ramifications of the AIDS epidemic. "We have seen a number of attempts," said Rogers, a psychologist, "either by people who are talking about funding for AIDS research or by other anti-gay people to say 'Why should there be funding for AIDS research when there isn't funding for sickle cell?'"
"Gay issues for blacks," said Hoard,"take a third stand and maybe even lower on the totem pole." There are people, he further said, who see this attitude as an indication of black homophobia, however Hoard sees it as more of "a prioritizing situation wherein the black community is many times focusing on employment and housing. I think," he continued, "it's important that somehow we begin to put all of the problems that we have within the black community together under an umbrella situation. Somewhat like under oppression because oppression certainly gets involved in unemployment, in housing, and it also gets involved in a situation like AIDS."
The forum, which is being co-sponsored by the Lesbian and Gay Community Center of Hunter College, will deal with the following topics: "The medical Facts on AIDS," "AIDS and the Crisis in Black Health Care," "Social Services for People with AIDS," "The Impact of AIDS on the Haitian Community" ("There's been a great deal of racism," said Rogers, "that's been whipped up in terms of our Haitian sisters and brothers, primarily by the government and the press."), and "Personal Reflections of a Person with AIDS." There will be four panelists at the forum. A question-and-answer period will follow the presentations.
The forum is free of charge and open to the general public. It starts at 7 p.m. and ends at 10 p.m. in Room 615 of the West Auditorium at Hunter College, located at Lexington Avenue and 68th Street, in Manhattan. The school is accessible to the IRT Lexington Avenue line.
Note: I wrote this article on January 15, 1984. It was subsequently published in the New York Native.
Showing posts with label gay sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gay sex. Show all posts
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Sexual Outlaws In Paris
Neons by Denis Belloc (Translated from the French by William Rodarmor)
(David R. Godine, Publisher, Inc., 103 pp., hardcover)
Far from being a depressing, sordid fictional account of the underside of gay life in 1960s Paris, Neons, by French novelist Denis Belloc, is a profane, often humorous novella, written in the first person present ("I go upstairs to the sixth-floor tenant's place with her, she cleans for him once a week.").
Reading very much like a diary, Neons has as its protagonist a wayward young man named Denis (the book appears to be autobiographical) who spends as much time as possible haunting the tearooms (public toilets) of Paris in search of quick, anonymous sexual encounters.
The johns, male hustlers, and transvestites who populate his world are very much like him: products of dysfunctional backgrounds; seekers of sex as a palliative, as a void-filler.
This fast-moving novel takes the reader on a hectic journey that follows Denis from the loss of his father in a fatal boxing match to the prison where he serves an eight-month sentence for a motorcycle theft to the streets of Paris where he works as a male hustler to a love affair with a Greek insurance salesman who takes him to Greece to meet his family.
Although Denis acts tough and streetwise, his naivete shows through. When Zits, a pimple-faced ex-prisonmate, suggests they team up to rob drunk johns, Denis asks, "What's a john?" and"What's a trick?" Zits's impatient response is, "Shit, are you dense, or what? John, trick, they're the same thing! It's a queer who pays to fuck."
Belloc's writing style is so spare, so cinematic, I could visualize the book as it might look on a movie screen, including English subtitles. In fact, I kept seeing the late Anne Ramsey, who played Danny DeVito's mother in Throw Mama From the Train, as the mother of Roger, a guy Denis meets on the street and moves in with. When she sees Denis the next morning, she screams, "Who's this guy, where'd he come from? You've been getting buggered all night long, right next to your mother."
Toward the end of Neons, Denis, who earlier exhibits artistic talent, shows up on the doorstep of Mademoiselle Chameron to study art under her tutelage in a studio he describes as "a total mess, with easels everywhere and on the wall, plaster busts and Mademoiselle's canvases." Denis later breaks up with the Greek and moves to"[a] little studio in a little street near a train station." The novel leaves the reader uncertain about Denis's future or his immediate plans. Has he decided to give up the tearooms and start life anew as an artist?
Although Neons covers the same terrain (the inhabitants of a gay subculture) as "Just Boys" by James T. Farrell and "Transit House" by Mark Ameen (both stories have been anthologized), it's not brutally violent as the former nor solely preoccupied with tearoom sex as the latter. In the middle ground, Belloc has constructed a memorable addition to the gay sexual outlaw tradition.
This article was originally published in NYQ magazine (February 9, 1992).
(David R. Godine, Publisher, Inc., 103 pp., hardcover)
Far from being a depressing, sordid fictional account of the underside of gay life in 1960s Paris, Neons, by French novelist Denis Belloc, is a profane, often humorous novella, written in the first person present ("I go upstairs to the sixth-floor tenant's place with her, she cleans for him once a week.").
Reading very much like a diary, Neons has as its protagonist a wayward young man named Denis (the book appears to be autobiographical) who spends as much time as possible haunting the tearooms (public toilets) of Paris in search of quick, anonymous sexual encounters.
The johns, male hustlers, and transvestites who populate his world are very much like him: products of dysfunctional backgrounds; seekers of sex as a palliative, as a void-filler.
This fast-moving novel takes the reader on a hectic journey that follows Denis from the loss of his father in a fatal boxing match to the prison where he serves an eight-month sentence for a motorcycle theft to the streets of Paris where he works as a male hustler to a love affair with a Greek insurance salesman who takes him to Greece to meet his family.
Although Denis acts tough and streetwise, his naivete shows through. When Zits, a pimple-faced ex-prisonmate, suggests they team up to rob drunk johns, Denis asks, "What's a john?" and"What's a trick?" Zits's impatient response is, "Shit, are you dense, or what? John, trick, they're the same thing! It's a queer who pays to fuck."
Belloc's writing style is so spare, so cinematic, I could visualize the book as it might look on a movie screen, including English subtitles. In fact, I kept seeing the late Anne Ramsey, who played Danny DeVito's mother in Throw Mama From the Train, as the mother of Roger, a guy Denis meets on the street and moves in with. When she sees Denis the next morning, she screams, "Who's this guy, where'd he come from? You've been getting buggered all night long, right next to your mother."
Toward the end of Neons, Denis, who earlier exhibits artistic talent, shows up on the doorstep of Mademoiselle Chameron to study art under her tutelage in a studio he describes as "a total mess, with easels everywhere and on the wall, plaster busts and Mademoiselle's canvases." Denis later breaks up with the Greek and moves to"[a] little studio in a little street near a train station." The novel leaves the reader uncertain about Denis's future or his immediate plans. Has he decided to give up the tearooms and start life anew as an artist?
Although Neons covers the same terrain (the inhabitants of a gay subculture) as "Just Boys" by James T. Farrell and "Transit House" by Mark Ameen (both stories have been anthologized), it's not brutally violent as the former nor solely preoccupied with tearoom sex as the latter. In the middle ground, Belloc has constructed a memorable addition to the gay sexual outlaw tradition.
This article was originally published in NYQ magazine (February 9, 1992).
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Showing Your Laundry At The Comfort Zone
The Comfort Zone is located on the second floor of a nondescript office building; just a few doors from two Broadway musicals, Chicago and Spring Awakening. A short distance away is the glitz and clamor of Times Square. Its proximity to the two theatres seems fitting since this underwear party mostly for young black gay men on the down low is like a theatrical performance or a fashion runway display, with hip-hop and R & B music blaring from wall-mounted speakers. The customers, in underwear of various types, colors, and patterns (a few prefer to go without underwear), parade the dark maze-like corridors and drift in and out of rooms called suites, in search of a sexual connection.
If the late black singer and actress Ethel Waters (a lesbian) were around to walk these corridors, she would be tickled pink--well, tickled anyway--to witness such a steamy scene. It would probably remind her of her early days as a stage performer when it was part of her song-and-dance act to give the audience a peek at her lingerie, otherwise known in 1920s Harlem as "showing your laundry."
At the center of this latter-day laundry-showing spectacle called Harlem World is E. J. Parker, the master of ceremonies, you might say, who sees the Comfort Zone as providing a "community service," and not being a part of the sex industry. Clearly sex is the primary attraction, as it was for the long-departed Mount Morris Baths in Harlem, where this writer was an employee for nearly three years. Aside froom their 24-hour operation (except Sundays for the comfort Zone, to give thanks to the Lord, says Parker) and the sexual liaisons, there are no other comparisons. The Comfort Zone, which opened in its present location August 31, 2007, is like stepping into someone's home--carpeted floors, spacious rooms, expensive couches, and freshly painted walls. Whereas the environment at Mount Morris was dirty and rundown, with the added smell of mildew and dead rats. Or as one patron once summed it up to me half jokingly, Mount Morris was "part whorehouse, part crackhouse, part shithouse, part flophouse, and part nut house."
Plus, at the Zone there are no surly staffers, no leaky ceilings, and plenty of free sodas and munchies. (No coffee is served because Parker fears that if an argument occurs, someone would be tempted to throw hot coffee at the other person. At Mount Morris, where free coffee and donuts were served every morning at five, nothing like that ever happened.) All of this for one sawbuck (pardon the lingo, that's ten dollars, folks).
The Comfort Zone attests to what social critic Daniel Harris has stated in the essay "The Origin of the Underwear Revolution," published in his 1997 book The Rise and Fall of Gay Culture (Hyperion). According to Harris, "underwear now reenacts a kind of striptease in which it shamelessly 'exposes' itself."
In the new family-oriented Disneyfied Times Square district, the Comfort Zone is an anomaly, a throwback to another time when sex in theatres and strip clubs was up close and personal.
Perhaps the Comfort Zone's existence is an indication that the rumors of the old Times Square's death were greatly exaggerated; that its resurrection is coming about in small, quiet baby steps. The only difference is that it won't be as wild and in-your-face as before, but existing on a less obvious level, as the Comfort Zone is doing.
The Comfort Zone encompasses Harlem World (aimed at the young hip-hop crowd) and Mix Bag (a more racially and age diverse party) that run concurrently. The only ones not welcome are the drag queens. "They bring too much drama," explains Parker. Despite this attitude, he readily acknowledges the role drag queens played during the Stonewall Riots in 1969.
One could quibble with Parker's notion of community service. After all, Mount Morris Baths for all of its decrepitude and antiquity, hosted an annual health fair, offered space to AIDS outreach groups to set up manned tables that displayed condoms and safer-sex brochures, provided health literature that was easily accessible in well-lit areas, gave an annual New Year's Eve buffet (that included the serving of beer and liquor) and sponsored a GED program. At the Comfort Zone there is safer-sex literature available but its presence seems like an afterthought. It's placed on a table beside the TV set that plays porn videos. Since the location is in a dark corner of the main lounge, it is not easy for the customers to see the literature.
But if by community service Parker--a youthful. soft-spoken, and jovial middle-aged black man--means that he has provided an alternative space for other black gay men to indulge their libidos without fear of police harassment or gay bashing, as would be the case in a public park or some other public space, he has succeeded.
And like a mother hen, Parker keeps a close watch on what goes on at the Zone, eagerly greeting new arrivals and urging those leaving to visit again. Being a constant promoter, Parker reminds them of the days and hours when the establishment is open. Since he wants to make sure they are enjoying themselves, he keeps a constant supply of snacks, condoms, and lube on hand.
Parker would have been a good secret agent. Whenever he's asked to reveal something that he considers sensitive, his response is always "I don't know anything" or "I don't know, I just work here."
And like a secret agent, he is on the look out for spies from other underwear parties who want to size up the competition. The first night I met him, he wanted to know if I had a camera in my bag. I told him I didn't. If I were he, I would be more concerned about city health inspectors masquerading as customers, looking for any infractions. That was always a major concern at Mount Morris Baths.
When customers first see the decor, says Parker, with obvious pride, they exclaim, "I can't believe it!" That's the reaction he wants to hear. For so long, black gay men, having few places of their own to go, settled for second and third-rate places to frequent. It's understandable that they are shocked to find a place offering them something better, that doesn't make them feel as though they didn't matter. However, it may take a little time for some of the patrons to get used to all of this good treatment. During one visit, I found a shoe print on the wall of one of the rooms and in the mini-lounge, there was a potato chip bag with some of its contents scattered on the floor beside one of the couches.
There are two inconveniences not mentioned on the Comfort Zone website or the print ad--lack of a restroom and a shower inside the premises. If a patron needs to urinate, he has to go into the pantry and pee in a plastic cup. "military style,"as Parker terms it, and then empty it in the stainless steel sink. If he has to defecate, he has to get dressed to use the communal restroom located outside in the hall. Washing up is done at the sink with a hand towel that is given out free of charge when the customer first checks in.
Parker, who grew up in Harlem and attended author James Baldwin's alma mater, De Witt Clinton High in the Bronx, claims that his underwear parties were the first; that they had "never been done before." With his entrepreneurial spirit that dates back to age ten when he organized a baseball team called the Harlem Royals, Parker used as his inspiration Doug Holley, a black gay man who opened the first sex party called Afrodeeziak in his Harlem brownstone. It was a financial flop. Parker surmises that Holley started the policy of excluding anyone who did not fit the masculine ideal--an in-shape physique, not fat, not fem, not old. But it was difficult to find enough men who fit that ideal.
But nevertheless Holley is considered the father of Harlem sex parties. Soon others, Parker included, began to imitate what he tried to do.
Parker, who plans to write a book about his experiences in the music business and as the proprietor of a sex party, began Ndahoo (a gay sex party for young men) in 1996. The 1991 film Boyz N Da Hood inspired the name. Its first location was at the Wall Street Sauna and then moved to Harlem, where it was first situated in a housing project and later a studio apartment.
In a society that has traditionally marginalized and stigmatized black men, black gay men especially shoulder a triple burden--race, sexual orientation, and the misperceptions and stereotypes surrounding black masculinity. Some survive the ostracism; many, unfortunately, don't. those who don't survive often engage in such self-destructive behavior as drugging and boozing. That's why it is important that the Comfort Zone exists. I hope that consciousness-raising groups and other self-help opportunities will be provided to establish and strengthen the self-esteem of scores of black gay men. Maybe the Comfort Zone can be one of those places where such a transformation can take place. As film critic David Ehrenstein has written in an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times, "Gays played pivotal roles in African American history, but the [black] community continues to wish away their sexuality."
The Comfort Zone has no intention of doing that but instead offers its clientele a safe haven or, as Parker puts it, "a chill out spot," where these men can unwind and take refuge from societal and familial pressures, if only for a short time. As the online ad suggests, "CUM before work, CUM at lunchtime, CUM after work." Hopefully, E.J. Parker and the Comfort Zone will offer them guidance in other realms of their lives and deemphasize the sexual part of their existence.
Will Parker set up a franchise of Comfort Zones? "I've thought about it, but I haven't done it."
This article about the now-defunct Comfort Zone was originally published in the Gay City News, December 20, 2007.
If the late black singer and actress Ethel Waters (a lesbian) were around to walk these corridors, she would be tickled pink--well, tickled anyway--to witness such a steamy scene. It would probably remind her of her early days as a stage performer when it was part of her song-and-dance act to give the audience a peek at her lingerie, otherwise known in 1920s Harlem as "showing your laundry."
At the center of this latter-day laundry-showing spectacle called Harlem World is E. J. Parker, the master of ceremonies, you might say, who sees the Comfort Zone as providing a "community service," and not being a part of the sex industry. Clearly sex is the primary attraction, as it was for the long-departed Mount Morris Baths in Harlem, where this writer was an employee for nearly three years. Aside froom their 24-hour operation (except Sundays for the comfort Zone, to give thanks to the Lord, says Parker) and the sexual liaisons, there are no other comparisons. The Comfort Zone, which opened in its present location August 31, 2007, is like stepping into someone's home--carpeted floors, spacious rooms, expensive couches, and freshly painted walls. Whereas the environment at Mount Morris was dirty and rundown, with the added smell of mildew and dead rats. Or as one patron once summed it up to me half jokingly, Mount Morris was "part whorehouse, part crackhouse, part shithouse, part flophouse, and part nut house."
Plus, at the Zone there are no surly staffers, no leaky ceilings, and plenty of free sodas and munchies. (No coffee is served because Parker fears that if an argument occurs, someone would be tempted to throw hot coffee at the other person. At Mount Morris, where free coffee and donuts were served every morning at five, nothing like that ever happened.) All of this for one sawbuck (pardon the lingo, that's ten dollars, folks).
The Comfort Zone attests to what social critic Daniel Harris has stated in the essay "The Origin of the Underwear Revolution," published in his 1997 book The Rise and Fall of Gay Culture (Hyperion). According to Harris, "underwear now reenacts a kind of striptease in which it shamelessly 'exposes' itself."
In the new family-oriented Disneyfied Times Square district, the Comfort Zone is an anomaly, a throwback to another time when sex in theatres and strip clubs was up close and personal.
Perhaps the Comfort Zone's existence is an indication that the rumors of the old Times Square's death were greatly exaggerated; that its resurrection is coming about in small, quiet baby steps. The only difference is that it won't be as wild and in-your-face as before, but existing on a less obvious level, as the Comfort Zone is doing.
The Comfort Zone encompasses Harlem World (aimed at the young hip-hop crowd) and Mix Bag (a more racially and age diverse party) that run concurrently. The only ones not welcome are the drag queens. "They bring too much drama," explains Parker. Despite this attitude, he readily acknowledges the role drag queens played during the Stonewall Riots in 1969.
One could quibble with Parker's notion of community service. After all, Mount Morris Baths for all of its decrepitude and antiquity, hosted an annual health fair, offered space to AIDS outreach groups to set up manned tables that displayed condoms and safer-sex brochures, provided health literature that was easily accessible in well-lit areas, gave an annual New Year's Eve buffet (that included the serving of beer and liquor) and sponsored a GED program. At the Comfort Zone there is safer-sex literature available but its presence seems like an afterthought. It's placed on a table beside the TV set that plays porn videos. Since the location is in a dark corner of the main lounge, it is not easy for the customers to see the literature.
But if by community service Parker--a youthful. soft-spoken, and jovial middle-aged black man--means that he has provided an alternative space for other black gay men to indulge their libidos without fear of police harassment or gay bashing, as would be the case in a public park or some other public space, he has succeeded.
And like a mother hen, Parker keeps a close watch on what goes on at the Zone, eagerly greeting new arrivals and urging those leaving to visit again. Being a constant promoter, Parker reminds them of the days and hours when the establishment is open. Since he wants to make sure they are enjoying themselves, he keeps a constant supply of snacks, condoms, and lube on hand.
Parker would have been a good secret agent. Whenever he's asked to reveal something that he considers sensitive, his response is always "I don't know anything" or "I don't know, I just work here."
And like a secret agent, he is on the look out for spies from other underwear parties who want to size up the competition. The first night I met him, he wanted to know if I had a camera in my bag. I told him I didn't. If I were he, I would be more concerned about city health inspectors masquerading as customers, looking for any infractions. That was always a major concern at Mount Morris Baths.
When customers first see the decor, says Parker, with obvious pride, they exclaim, "I can't believe it!" That's the reaction he wants to hear. For so long, black gay men, having few places of their own to go, settled for second and third-rate places to frequent. It's understandable that they are shocked to find a place offering them something better, that doesn't make them feel as though they didn't matter. However, it may take a little time for some of the patrons to get used to all of this good treatment. During one visit, I found a shoe print on the wall of one of the rooms and in the mini-lounge, there was a potato chip bag with some of its contents scattered on the floor beside one of the couches.
There are two inconveniences not mentioned on the Comfort Zone website or the print ad--lack of a restroom and a shower inside the premises. If a patron needs to urinate, he has to go into the pantry and pee in a plastic cup. "military style,"as Parker terms it, and then empty it in the stainless steel sink. If he has to defecate, he has to get dressed to use the communal restroom located outside in the hall. Washing up is done at the sink with a hand towel that is given out free of charge when the customer first checks in.
Parker, who grew up in Harlem and attended author James Baldwin's alma mater, De Witt Clinton High in the Bronx, claims that his underwear parties were the first; that they had "never been done before." With his entrepreneurial spirit that dates back to age ten when he organized a baseball team called the Harlem Royals, Parker used as his inspiration Doug Holley, a black gay man who opened the first sex party called Afrodeeziak in his Harlem brownstone. It was a financial flop. Parker surmises that Holley started the policy of excluding anyone who did not fit the masculine ideal--an in-shape physique, not fat, not fem, not old. But it was difficult to find enough men who fit that ideal.
But nevertheless Holley is considered the father of Harlem sex parties. Soon others, Parker included, began to imitate what he tried to do.
Parker, who plans to write a book about his experiences in the music business and as the proprietor of a sex party, began Ndahoo (a gay sex party for young men) in 1996. The 1991 film Boyz N Da Hood inspired the name. Its first location was at the Wall Street Sauna and then moved to Harlem, where it was first situated in a housing project and later a studio apartment.
In a society that has traditionally marginalized and stigmatized black men, black gay men especially shoulder a triple burden--race, sexual orientation, and the misperceptions and stereotypes surrounding black masculinity. Some survive the ostracism; many, unfortunately, don't. those who don't survive often engage in such self-destructive behavior as drugging and boozing. That's why it is important that the Comfort Zone exists. I hope that consciousness-raising groups and other self-help opportunities will be provided to establish and strengthen the self-esteem of scores of black gay men. Maybe the Comfort Zone can be one of those places where such a transformation can take place. As film critic David Ehrenstein has written in an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times, "Gays played pivotal roles in African American history, but the [black] community continues to wish away their sexuality."
The Comfort Zone has no intention of doing that but instead offers its clientele a safe haven or, as Parker puts it, "a chill out spot," where these men can unwind and take refuge from societal and familial pressures, if only for a short time. As the online ad suggests, "CUM before work, CUM at lunchtime, CUM after work." Hopefully, E.J. Parker and the Comfort Zone will offer them guidance in other realms of their lives and deemphasize the sexual part of their existence.
Will Parker set up a franchise of Comfort Zones? "I've thought about it, but I haven't done it."
This article about the now-defunct Comfort Zone was originally published in the Gay City News, December 20, 2007.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Telling A Story About The Comfort Zone
The following is a letter sent to Paul Schindler, the editor of the New York-based Gay City News. It was written on January 3, 2008:
Dear Paul: I was trying to respond to a comment posted by Mike Holliday at the tail end of my Comfort Zone [underwear sex party] story but was unable to. Holliday wanted an authoritative, analytical , investigative article. I am not an investigative reporter or a gay leader with an ax to grind. I write feature stories; I am a storyteller. "Showing Your Laundry"[ Gay City News, December 20, 2007] is typical of the type of stories I wrote for the New York Native in the eighties. I was documenting a black gay venue so that years from now historians and other academic types will have a written record of it.
As to it being "a puff piece," I disagree. If Holliday had carefully read the story, he would have noted my criticisms. That's why I contrasted the Comfort Zone and Mount Morris Baths. Mount Morris was doing real community service with the many programs it sponsored. For all I know, Holliday might be a disgruntled customer looking for someone to find dirt on the Comfort Zone. That was not my intention. I saw an opportunity to write about a phenomenon that was interesting and about a personality [E.J. Parker] who was compelling and, at times, funny.
I look forward to reading other comments from readers. Two of my friends have read the story. One thought it was hilarious. The other thought I should have been more objective and that I showed anger that Mount Morris [where I was employed for two and a half years] is no longer around. (I disagreed with him about that.)
Anyway, who wants to read a dry as bones, put-you-to-sleep analysis of a sex club in a newspaper?
Dear Paul: I was trying to respond to a comment posted by Mike Holliday at the tail end of my Comfort Zone [underwear sex party] story but was unable to. Holliday wanted an authoritative, analytical , investigative article. I am not an investigative reporter or a gay leader with an ax to grind. I write feature stories; I am a storyteller. "Showing Your Laundry"[ Gay City News, December 20, 2007] is typical of the type of stories I wrote for the New York Native in the eighties. I was documenting a black gay venue so that years from now historians and other academic types will have a written record of it.
As to it being "a puff piece," I disagree. If Holliday had carefully read the story, he would have noted my criticisms. That's why I contrasted the Comfort Zone and Mount Morris Baths. Mount Morris was doing real community service with the many programs it sponsored. For all I know, Holliday might be a disgruntled customer looking for someone to find dirt on the Comfort Zone. That was not my intention. I saw an opportunity to write about a phenomenon that was interesting and about a personality [E.J. Parker] who was compelling and, at times, funny.
I look forward to reading other comments from readers. Two of my friends have read the story. One thought it was hilarious. The other thought I should have been more objective and that I showed anger that Mount Morris [where I was employed for two and a half years] is no longer around. (I disagreed with him about that.)
Anyway, who wants to read a dry as bones, put-you-to-sleep analysis of a sex club in a newspaper?
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Close Encounters Of The Erotic Kind
Sean Wolfe's collection of gay erotic stories is called Close Contact: Tales of Erotica (Kensington Books). The stories take place in San Francisco ; Denver; Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, among other locales and the steamy sex scenes occur in a variety of venues: a bathhouse, a park , the back of a bus, etc. One story takes place in a motel and is a send-up of Hitchcock's Psycho. Like an O. Henry story, a few of these tales reveal a twist ending that's hard not to chuckle at.
If you are easily offended by graphic descriptions of sex, Wolfe's collection is probably not your cup of tea, or should I say, cum since in these stories, plenty of it flies around--on chests, faces, walls. Need I say more?
These 28 stories start off innocently, establishing setting, characters, and plot, and before you know it, you're in the middle of hot, no-holds-barred liaisons of every conceivable kind between two or more consenting adults.
In stories that without nary a word about HIV/AIDS, condoms abound. And they are quickly pulled off 9-inch penises (Wolfe's obsession) in time for those flying cum acrobatics. Too bad there isn't a story about a guy trying to break a Guinness record in how fast cum can travel.
One drawback of the stories in Close Contact is that the sex scenes are formulaic: they begin and end the same way most porn films do--oral, then anal sex. Otherwise, Wolfe is a gifted writer, who should not limit his talent to writing erotica .
If you are easily offended by graphic descriptions of sex, Wolfe's collection is probably not your cup of tea, or should I say, cum since in these stories, plenty of it flies around--on chests, faces, walls. Need I say more?
These 28 stories start off innocently, establishing setting, characters, and plot, and before you know it, you're in the middle of hot, no-holds-barred liaisons of every conceivable kind between two or more consenting adults.
In stories that without nary a word about HIV/AIDS, condoms abound. And they are quickly pulled off 9-inch penises (Wolfe's obsession) in time for those flying cum acrobatics. Too bad there isn't a story about a guy trying to break a Guinness record in how fast cum can travel.
One drawback of the stories in Close Contact is that the sex scenes are formulaic: they begin and end the same way most porn films do--oral, then anal sex. Otherwise, Wolfe is a gifted writer, who should not limit his talent to writing erotica .
Friday, August 6, 2010
Gay Porn Star For President
"If I could choose any one single job, I would definitely go the presidential route. I wouldn't mind being President of the United States. Absolutely."--Junior Stellano, gay escort/porn star, from Q & A interview, Time Out New York magazine, August 5-11, 2010 (Issue 775)
Here's an idea for a "reality" show that would be worth watching every week, a gay escort/porn star campaigning for the presidency. It would be so outrageous and over-the-top , it would probably be a hit show. Junior Stellano could be made the star of the show.
The chance of such a candidate winning the election is as likely as me landing on the moon in a homemade rocket ship. But it would be humorous and highly entertaining, especially the reaction of people on the campaign trail.
Since the forthcoming Oprah Winfrey Network is having some trouble filling its schedule with enough new programs, here is an idea they should take into consideration for their 2012 season.
Here's an idea for a "reality" show that would be worth watching every week, a gay escort/porn star campaigning for the presidency. It would be so outrageous and over-the-top , it would probably be a hit show. Junior Stellano could be made the star of the show.
The chance of such a candidate winning the election is as likely as me landing on the moon in a homemade rocket ship. But it would be humorous and highly entertaining, especially the reaction of people on the campaign trail.
Since the forthcoming Oprah Winfrey Network is having some trouble filling its schedule with enough new programs, here is an idea they should take into consideration for their 2012 season.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Book Review: "Arkansas" By David Leavitt
The following is an excerpt of a previously unpublished book review I wrote in 1997.
Arkansas: Three Novellas by David Leavitt (Houghton Mifflin)
Reviewed by Charles Michael Smith
David Leavitt's Arkansas, a collection of three novellas, is further proof that he is one of America's brightest young fiction writers.
It is also proof that he is not afraid to stir up controversy. At the beginning of the first novella, "The Term Paper Artist," Leavitt refers to the controversy that involved himself and the late English poet Sir Stephen Spender who "sued me over a novel I had written because it was based in part on an episode in his life."
This time it is "The Term Paper Artist" that has created what New York Daily News columnists Rush and Molloy have described as a "litquake." They stated that Esquire magazine decided not to publish an excerpt of the novella out of fear that the references to male sexual organs and oral sex would offend readers and advertisers.
The whole issue is much ado about nothing. There is indeed frank language in the novella, but nowhere are there the kind of explicit sex scenes found in hard-core gay skin magazines. Leavitt discreetly turns away from such depictions. For example, here is how he ends one such scene: "Then for about half an hour, though he made other noises, he didn't speak a word."
"The Term Paper Artist," which uses a lot of autobiographical details from Leavitt's life including the use of his name as the name of the first-person narrator, is about a young writer who enters into a "prostitutional" arrangement with seven heterosexual male college students. The arrangement was that he would ghostwrite their term papers in exchange for sex, thereby becoming "an industry." Whether this term paper arrangement actually happened to Leavitt is unclear. (Leavitt teases the reader by having his namesake say that "Writers often disguise their lives as fiction. The thing they almost never do is disguise fiction as their lives.") His namesake admits that it is "unethical" and "goes against everything I believe in." But it beats sitting in the UCLA library doing research on the new novel about the scandal that resulted when a homosexual brothel was discovered by the police in 1889 London.
In Arkansas David Leavitt probes the hearts, minds, and souls of the people he knows best--the suburban upper middle class.
Arkansas: Three Novellas by David Leavitt (Houghton Mifflin)
Reviewed by Charles Michael Smith
David Leavitt's Arkansas, a collection of three novellas, is further proof that he is one of America's brightest young fiction writers.
It is also proof that he is not afraid to stir up controversy. At the beginning of the first novella, "The Term Paper Artist," Leavitt refers to the controversy that involved himself and the late English poet Sir Stephen Spender who "sued me over a novel I had written because it was based in part on an episode in his life."
This time it is "The Term Paper Artist" that has created what New York Daily News columnists Rush and Molloy have described as a "litquake." They stated that Esquire magazine decided not to publish an excerpt of the novella out of fear that the references to male sexual organs and oral sex would offend readers and advertisers.
The whole issue is much ado about nothing. There is indeed frank language in the novella, but nowhere are there the kind of explicit sex scenes found in hard-core gay skin magazines. Leavitt discreetly turns away from such depictions. For example, here is how he ends one such scene: "Then for about half an hour, though he made other noises, he didn't speak a word."
"The Term Paper Artist," which uses a lot of autobiographical details from Leavitt's life including the use of his name as the name of the first-person narrator, is about a young writer who enters into a "prostitutional" arrangement with seven heterosexual male college students. The arrangement was that he would ghostwrite their term papers in exchange for sex, thereby becoming "an industry." Whether this term paper arrangement actually happened to Leavitt is unclear. (Leavitt teases the reader by having his namesake say that "Writers often disguise their lives as fiction. The thing they almost never do is disguise fiction as their lives.") His namesake admits that it is "unethical" and "goes against everything I believe in." But it beats sitting in the UCLA library doing research on the new novel about the scandal that resulted when a homosexual brothel was discovered by the police in 1889 London.
In Arkansas David Leavitt probes the hearts, minds, and souls of the people he knows best--the suburban upper middle class.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Three New York Musicians Record With Gay San Francisco Poet
"Jeff Lilly's poetry dances through music and delivers a lyrical punch that should be heard and acknowledged out there in the world of words and sound."--Neeli Cherkovski, poet and author of Ferlinghetti: A Biography.
Jeffrey Lilly is a San Francisco-based poet who has recorded two poetry with music CDs, "The Butterfly Flies," his most recent, and "Promised Land Poems." "A number of poems of my recordings," says Lilly, an openly gay man, "are an expression of eros or a defense of eros." Especially same-gender eros, which Lilly celebrates without fear or shame or equivocation and with artistic beauty. In "Come Christmas Day's Two to Oneing Morn" (from "The Butterfly Flies") the poem is set to music that quotes from the carol, "Noel," and explores a sexual relationship in the early morning hours of Christmas. Lilly explains the origin of the poem this way: "It originally began after the Christmas morning episode with a man I was in love with. We had known each other for some time. I finished it after a relationship with a second lover. There was also the memory of a two-day fling with a German tourist. This was before the days of AIDS. I was writing about the joy of safe sex. The first two encounters weren't brief encounters, but the original idea of flexibility and alternation came out of that early encounter with a German tourist." "African Beauty," another gay-oriented poem on "Butterfly," is a tribute to a male lover, " a man with whom I lived for some time."
"The Butterfly Flies" features three New York musicians: Jonathan Comisar (piano), a faculty member at Hebrew Union College, who studied under the Pulitzer-Prize winning composer David Del Tredici, also composes Jewish liturgical music; Mike Cohen (clarinet and flute), who has performed at Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, Birdland, and other venues; and Ivan Borenboim (clarinet), and artist-in-residence at Central Synagogue and a performer throughout the United States, Argentina, and Europe. Hans Christian, the German-born composer on "Promised Land Poems," is also a record producer and studio engineer.
Over the years, Lilly, a convert to Judaism in 1992, has read his poetry at his GLBT synagogue, Sha'ar Zahav, as well as other venues in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Lilly believes his "reading style is more like poetic song that is well matched with the music which amplifies my words." He has been "told I have a good performance voice that goes well
with music." In addition, he continues, "I have had the good fortune of having very talented composers [Jonathan Comisar and Hans Christian] to work with."
Among the writers Lilly has been influenced by are Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg whose pairing of poetry and music was"one essential part of the Beat movement."
A few of the poems on both CDs mix words from different languages. Lilly, who earned a master's degree in Russian language and literature and another one in comparative literature, sees this as his way of "conveying a musical sound." He "draws on my studies of Russian, French, and Italian, as well as other foreign words I've encountered in the multicultural world of San Francisco."
Lilly is co-editor of Art Mugs the Reaper, a project he describes as "an artistic quilt." It celebrates the work and lives of gay men such as photographer Robert Mapplethorpe and poet-playwright Assotto Saint, who have died from AIDS. He is also at work on an as-yet-unnamed novel about a Russian emigre writer. The book is an outgrowth of his social service work among Russian emigres in San Francisco.
For further information about the CDs, you can contact Jeffrey Lilly at JL@jeffreylillypresents.com.
Jeffrey Lilly is a San Francisco-based poet who has recorded two poetry with music CDs, "The Butterfly Flies," his most recent, and "Promised Land Poems." "A number of poems of my recordings," says Lilly, an openly gay man, "are an expression of eros or a defense of eros." Especially same-gender eros, which Lilly celebrates without fear or shame or equivocation and with artistic beauty. In "Come Christmas Day's Two to Oneing Morn" (from "The Butterfly Flies") the poem is set to music that quotes from the carol, "Noel," and explores a sexual relationship in the early morning hours of Christmas. Lilly explains the origin of the poem this way: "It originally began after the Christmas morning episode with a man I was in love with. We had known each other for some time. I finished it after a relationship with a second lover. There was also the memory of a two-day fling with a German tourist. This was before the days of AIDS. I was writing about the joy of safe sex. The first two encounters weren't brief encounters, but the original idea of flexibility and alternation came out of that early encounter with a German tourist." "African Beauty," another gay-oriented poem on "Butterfly," is a tribute to a male lover, " a man with whom I lived for some time."
"The Butterfly Flies" features three New York musicians: Jonathan Comisar (piano), a faculty member at Hebrew Union College, who studied under the Pulitzer-Prize winning composer David Del Tredici, also composes Jewish liturgical music; Mike Cohen (clarinet and flute), who has performed at Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, Birdland, and other venues; and Ivan Borenboim (clarinet), and artist-in-residence at Central Synagogue and a performer throughout the United States, Argentina, and Europe. Hans Christian, the German-born composer on "Promised Land Poems," is also a record producer and studio engineer.
Over the years, Lilly, a convert to Judaism in 1992, has read his poetry at his GLBT synagogue, Sha'ar Zahav, as well as other venues in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Lilly believes his "reading style is more like poetic song that is well matched with the music which amplifies my words." He has been "told I have a good performance voice that goes well
with music." In addition, he continues, "I have had the good fortune of having very talented composers [Jonathan Comisar and Hans Christian] to work with."
Among the writers Lilly has been influenced by are Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg whose pairing of poetry and music was"one essential part of the Beat movement."
A few of the poems on both CDs mix words from different languages. Lilly, who earned a master's degree in Russian language and literature and another one in comparative literature, sees this as his way of "conveying a musical sound." He "draws on my studies of Russian, French, and Italian, as well as other foreign words I've encountered in the multicultural world of San Francisco."
Lilly is co-editor of Art Mugs the Reaper, a project he describes as "an artistic quilt." It celebrates the work and lives of gay men such as photographer Robert Mapplethorpe and poet-playwright Assotto Saint, who have died from AIDS. He is also at work on an as-yet-unnamed novel about a Russian emigre writer. The book is an outgrowth of his social service work among Russian emigres in San Francisco.
For further information about the CDs, you can contact Jeffrey Lilly at JL@jeffreylillypresents.com.
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