1 in 8,000,000

1 in 10 - 1 in 8,000,000

The New York Times is doing a new Photo/Audio project entitled "One in 8 Million" where they follow the life stories of individuals living in and around New York City. Recently, One in 8 Million did a feature on Ra Ruiz, a 22 year old queer youth who identifies as one of the Christopher St. Pier kids. Her story is both brutal and inspiring.

View the project and listen in: It will give food for thought about the Pier Kids and the issues facing them and their surrounding residential West Village community.

Also, click here for a post I wrote last year entitled, "The Importance of the West Village and those God-Damned Christopher St. Kids" on the same subject.

Checking In / Three Shelves

Hi!

I'm not gone. I just took a new job and I'm busy busy busy. I'll have to figure out some sort of new blog-work balance but until then hang in there and enjoy the story below.

I just caught wind that The Oscar Wilde Bookstore on Christopher St. is closing its doors. The story below was inspired by my visit there last year. This was originally posted on: Feb 7th 2008.

Three Shelves

I got out of work earlier than expected and Wayne wasn't available for another hour and a half. I headed out of my office, got on the subway and eventually jumped off at West 4th St. figuring I'll slum around the West Village for awhile. The weather was unusually warm and a light drizzle came and went as if Mother Nature could not decide upon her mood. The city is out. People are getting home, going to dinner and music plays from the restaurants out onto the streets. I sucked the city in deeply through my nostrils and headed in an aimless direction toward the West Village.

Call it instinct or a natural gravitational pull but I always find myself at some end of Christopher St. The street is narrow and the boutiques are hip and artistic. Rainbow flags fly and neon signs blip and buzz. As Manhattan changes again and again it always seems as though this one part of the city, is and always will be, quaint and unique. The streets are narrow and tree lined with old and gorgeous brownstones and a feeling of vibrant history rattling beneath the pavement.

In the distance I notice The Oscar Wilde Bookshop. Actually, I don't notice the little independent bookstore as much as I notice the giant rainbow flag waving outside. Having been there before I know that's the calling card of the bookstore, letting everyone know that despite it's size, it's there. Colorful, loud and proud. It's the only queer focused bookstore in the city and one of the only few surviving independent bookstores that has yet to be gobbled up by the corporate book and music malls.

The inside is quiet and clean and one can expect to hear some nostalgic acoustic music playing. Dylan, Cat Stevens, Indigo Girls, Ani DiFranco... A smooth green carpet matches well to the light brown bookshelves filled with paper back and hard cover books. Posted on many of the shelves are yellow tags alerting customers to "staff picks" and critic's choices. There are never more than 5 customers in the store at any time. Today there is only one. I'm happy I saw the store in the distance, it reminded me to pick up a copy of James Baldwin's "Giovanni's Room" for the first meeting of a book club I recently joined.

I wasn't able to grab the book right away because the section of fiction I needed to pull it from was being occupied by a seemingly frantic and excited young lady pulling out books left and right, top shelf, bottom shelf, flipping through the pages, reading backs, studying the price, compiling piles. I didn't mind waiting and looking at the new arrivals but I couldn't help but wonder what this girl needed or why her interest in so many books. I watched her for awhile. She was nearly out of breath. She would take a pick from the pile she created, study the cover, flip to the back and judge whether or not to put it back on the shelf. "What is she doing," I thought to myself. Judging from her level of stress I could only suppose that whatever it was she needed carried a great importance. "A research paper? A thesis?" I shrugged and continued to browse the selections.

Holding a book in the air and showing it to the cashier the young woman asked in a hard accent and broken English, "What about dis vone? Will I like dis vone?" The store clerk advised her there are others she would like better and left the counter to assist her search. As the store clerk approached the young woman said, "There's just so much! Where I am from there are only three shelves...Just three..."

Upon hearing this my breath caught itself in my throat and my arm goosebumped. "Just three shelves," I repeated to myself. I understood immediately the girl's frantic search and how important it was to her. I waited until the store clerk escorted the girl to another section and grabbed my book off the wall of fiction. I looked around the room. This whole book store: for me. Everything from fiction to non-fiction, biography to auto-biography, gay to lesbian, bisexual to trans, fantasy and reality, porn to prude- everything is here and it's an entire store. Maybe it is just one store with this specific focus but any store in this city has more than just three shelves!

I hung around the bookstore checking out other sections keeping an eye and ear on the girl and the store clerk. I wanted to know where she was from, what country or place she was visiting from that only allowed her three shelves. I wasn't granted any of that information but hearing what I already heard was enough for me to wish her the best of possible searches. She stood in front of me paying for her books. Almost 100 dollars in total. A pile that would keep her busy for months, if not a year, and will be with her for a lifetime. Having a few extra dollars left over she asked the store clerk, "What rainbow things you have else?" "Well," the store clerk responded, "we don't have too much this time of year, more in the summer, but here take this bracelet." The young girl took a rainbow colored bracelet and slipped it over her hand, securing it on her wrist. "Oh tank you," she said overjoyed, placing her hand over the bracelet and smiling.

After she left I said to the store clerk, "Wow. Only three shelves, and here we have this entire bookstore. It just goes to show- despite the amount of work we still have have ahead of us, how much we already take for granted." "Yes," the store clerk responded, frowning, "And I'm not even sure you can find more than three shelves in other places in this very country. I'm not sure if Montana, Idaho, Kansas or North Dakota offers much of a difference..."I shook my head, realizing the impact of what the store clerk was saying. I thanked her for the books and headed out of the store onto Christopher St., the very same street where 39 years ago a group of people demanded they weren't going to take it any more and have allowed the rainbow flags to fly, without apology, ever since.

Quakes and Storms

An earthquake just hit LA and I can tell work is going to be a natural disaster all week so in the meantime I thought I'd honor LA's quake with a picture of Sunday's storm in NYC. Take THAT Jersey City!

During my two years of living in Los Angeles I hoped again and again that I would experience an earthquake. Alas, the most I ever felt was a measly 2.0 rumbler and when it happened I thought it was just a truck passing by my house.

It's not that I wanted a major quake or anything devastating but I did want to feel something. They seem so exciting.

During August and September in LA when the weather gets muggy and very hot people would say things like, "oooh! This feels like earthquake weather." Eric, The Roommate and I that was always a bizarre thing to hear.

Interview Sessions: Stanley Stellar

As part of a new project I'm documenting the stories of gay men from the ages of 16 to ??:

Stanley Stellar is a well known New York photographer responsible for works such as: Stellar Men and photographs in Provocateur. He is the first of the Interview Sessions.

The Mid 1960's, Christopher Street & Cruising.

Stanley has a lot more to stay. More sessions to come.

Weekend Jump

Fiercing it out at the piers with Alex and Ricardo (eating SpongeBob pops)














The amazing roundoff-handspring into the rope- jump.














Me and Ricardo practicing the double-jump (Ricardo still can't quite get it.)














Beers at The Dugout afterward w/ Alex and Leslie

Mattachine Party

Last night was Julius' Bar Mattachine Party
Great night, Great party and oh were the people out.









Randy Jones (The Cowboy from Village People) and Madame









Acid Betty (left) and young drag protege (right)

Three Shelves

I got out of work earlier than expected and Wayne wasn't available for another hour and a half. I headed out of my office, got on the subway and eventually jumped off at West 4th St. figuring I'll slum around the West Village until he gets home. The weather was unusually warm and a light drizzle would come and go as if Mother Nature herself could not decide upon her mood. The city is out. People are getting home, going to dinner and music plays out from the restaurants and onto the streets. I sucked the city in deeply through my nostrils and headed in an aimless direction into the depths of the West Village.

Call it instinct or a natural gravitational pull but I always find myself on some end of Christopher St. The streets narrow and the boutiques hip and artistic. Rainbow flags fly and neon signs blip and buzz. As Manhattan changes again and again it always seems as though this part of the city is, and always will be, quaint and unique. Narrow tree lined streets, old and gorgeous brownstones and a feeling of vibrant history rattling beneath the pavement.

In the distance I notice The Oscar Wilde Bookshop. Actually, I don't notice the little independent bookstore because it blends in with the rest of the buildings and boutiques but I notice the giant rainbow flag waving outside. Having been there before I know that's the calling card of the bookstore, letting everyone know that despite it's size, it's there. Colorful, loud and proud. It's the only queer focused bookstore in the city and one of the only few surviving independent bookstores that has yet to be gobbled up by the corporate book and music malls.

The inside is quiet and clean and you can always expect to hear some acoustic music playing. Dylan, Cat Stevens, Indigo Girls, Ani DiFranco... A smooth green carpet matches well to the light brown bookshelves filled with paper back and hard cover books. Dangling from many of the shelves are yellow tags alerting customers to staff picks and critic's choices. There are never more than 5 customers in the store at one time. Today there is only one. I'm happy I saw the store in the distance, it reminded me to pick up a copy of James Baldwin's "Giovanni's Room" for the first meeting of the book club I recently joined.

I wasn't able to grab the book right away because the section of fiction I needed to pull it from was being occupied by a seemingly frantic and excited young lady pulling out books left and right, top shelf, bottom shelf, flipping through the pages, reading backs, studying the price, compiling piles. I didn't mind waiting and looking at the new arrivals but I couldn't help but wonder what this girl needed or why her interest in so many books. I watched her for awhile. She was nearly out of breath. She would take a pick from the pile she created, study the cover, flip to the back and judge whether or not to put it back on the shelf. "What is she doing," I thought to myself. Judging from the level of stress I saw her putting herself through I could only suppose that whatever it was she needed carried great importance. "A research paper? A thesis?" I shrugged and continued to browse the selections.

Holding a book in the air and showing it to the cashier the young woman asked in a hard accent and broken English, "What about dis vone? Will I like dis vone?" The store clerk advised her there are others she would like more and left the counter to assist her search. As the store clerk approached, the young woman said, "There's just so much! Where I am from there are only three shelves...Just three..."

Upon hearing this my breath caught itself in my throat and my arm grew goosebumps. "Just three shelves," I said to myself. I understood immediately this girl's frantic search and how important it was to her. I waited until the store clerk escorted the girl to another section and grabbed my book off the wall of fiction, catered specifically, to me and my people. I looked around the room. This whole book store, for me. Everything from fiction to non-fiction, biography to auto-biography, gay to lesbian, bisexual to trans, fantasy and reality, porn to prude- everything is here and it's an entire store. Maybe just one store with this specific focus but any store in this city has more than just three shelves!

I hung around the bookstore checking out other sections keeping an eye and ear on the girl and the store clerk. I wanted to know where she was from, what country or place was she visiting from that only allowed her three shelves. I wasn't granted any of that information but hearing what I already heard was enough for me to wish her the best search possible. She stood in front of me paying for her books. Almost 100 dollars in total. A pile that would keep her busy for months, if not a year, and will be with her for a lifetime. Having a few extra dollars left over she asked the store clerk, "What rainbow things you have else?" "Well," the store clerk responded, "we don't have too much this time of year, more in the summer, but here take this bracelet." The young girl took the rainbow colored bracelet and slipped it over her hand and secured it over her wrist. "Oh tank you," she said overjoyed, placing her hand over the bracelet and smiling.

After she left I said to the store clerk, "Wow. Only three shelves, and here we have this entire bookstore. It just goes to show- despite the amount of work we still have have ahead of us, how much we already take for granted."
"Yes," the store clerk responded, frowning, "And I'm not even sure you can find more than three shelves in other places in this very country. I'm not sure if Montana, Idaho, Kansas or North Dakota offers much of a difference..."

I shook my head, realizing the impact of what the store clerk was saying. I thanked the sales clerk for the books and headed out of the store and into the West Village, onto the very street where 39 years ago a group of people stood up, said "we're not going to take this anymore" and have allowed the rainbow flags to fly, without apology, ever since.

Mattachine!

For those of you who don't know the Mattachine Society was the first official gay group in history. The first group met in Los Angeles on November 11, 1950. This is 19 years before Stonewall and 20 before the first gay pride March/Rally. Their focus was to,

"1. Unify homosexuals isolated from their own kind; 2. Educate homosexuals and heterosexuals toward an ethical homosexual culture paralleling the cultures of the Negro, Mexican and Jewish peoples; 3. Lead the more socially conscious homosexual to provide leadership to the whole mass of social deviates; and 4. Assist our people who are victimized daily as a result of our oppression."

Today, Julius' Bar in NYC is probably the least known gay bar on the island. Tucked away on a quiet corner in the West Village this bar doesn't attract the young, the hip or the latest in gay trends. But it has one remarkable history and the owner refuses to let this place be consumed by the ever-changing New York. With this in mind, John Cameron Mitchell (yes, Hedwig herself) and pals celebrate this bar and how far we've come with a new night in the old establishment.

"Thank Julius' for Gay Bars. Literally."
PJ DeBoy, John Cameron Mitchell, and Julius' invite you to...

MATTACHINE

Julius' is one of the oldest bars in NYC, dating back to 1867. It was named Julius' after Prohibition and still retains its gorgeous '50's charcoal decor. Why hasn't the space been converted into a Ralph Lauren outlet like every other mom-and-pop in the West Village? Because the owner of the building recognizes it as a landmark.
A little-known but important milestone in gay history took place there, one that paved the way for the Stonewall Rebellion. On April 21, 1966, (three years to the day after John's birthday ironically. Or not.) the Mattachine Society staged the first civil rights "sip-in". At the time, it was illegal to serve alcohol to "known homosexuals." A group of immaculately-suited men bellied up to Julius' bar and declared, "We are homosexuals and we demand to be served." (a line immortalized by Justin Bond most nights.) Fred MacDarrah captured the historic moment on the slice of celluloid featured on our flyer. (If you look closely you'll recognize key activist Paul Dawson.)

Knowing our crew, Thursday February 7th (9pm on) will likely be known as the first "gulp-in". So put on your high-heeled sneakers, put your toupee on your head and march on down to Julius' for some turntable action by John Cameron "Dear Tic" Mitchell, Amber Martin and PJ DeBoy, spinning hits for queer ears from bygone years. There might just be some special guests who hail from the fateful night!

Oh, did I mention the amazing burgers and cheap drinks?

Several Hundred Gays, 3 Singing Divas, 2 Shritless Bartendars, 1 Smokin' hot Executive Director and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

Last night I attended a great holiday fundraiser for The Ali Forney Center, an organization committed to sheltering LGBT homeless or kicked out youth. The center also provides: short- and long-term housing -- 32 beds in total, in six apartments -- plus free medical care, HIV testing, mental health services, showers, food, computer access, and job training and placement at its drop-in center in Chelsea.

The Ali Forney center is one of the better organizations I've heard of lately and greatly commend their efforts. It is interesting to note that 40% of NYC's homeless youth are of LGBT identity and since youths are naturally coming out younger and younger these days, The Ali Forney Center really does offer a safe place of shelter for kids who's homes and families refused to accept them.

The fundraiser was held in a magnificent West Village apartment. One of those apartments where upon walking into you gasp and exclaim, "Wow, this is Manhattan!" I placed my coat on the coatracks and stashed my backpack along with some others underneath the coats. I moved further into the apartment and happily pulled out my checkbook to pay a donation which will go toward a new set of sheets and bedding for the center.

There was a wonderful spread of food and desserts from local gay and gay friendly eateries around town and an open bar. I grabbed some chips, chicken satay, a vodka and mingled with guests and caught up with familiar faces. People generally seemed to be talking about The Ali Forney Center along with other organizations mixed with mild cruising and discussion of Holiday Plans. There was one guy who caught my attention more than once. A beefed up, goatee'd Italian looking fellow who seemed to be caught up in a lot of meet-and-greets.

The apartment was reaching capacity when an announcement was made that a show would be taking place downstairs in just a few moments. I walked downstairs and grabbed a seat next to some Brooklyn buddies of mine and watched Drag Queen Trai La Trash talk about the center and do a comedy bit. She welcomed on stage Diva Singer and New York local Natalie Douglas who sang a few gorgeous sounding holiday hits and did a duet with party host and fellow New York singer David Raleigh. It was fun and festive and beautiful and nice and yes- ok- yes, even I, Mr. Scrooge himself started feeling as though I was getting into the holiday spirit.

Trai La Trash took the stage again and introduced Executive Director of The Ali Forney Center, Carl Siciliano- and what do you know? It's the Italian hunk! Swooooon. The crowd fell silent and listened to Siciliano talk about the work done at the Ali Forney center and how important it is to pay attention to the health of LGBT youth. Gosh, this guy is racked up the points. It was a heartfelt speech and peaked mine, as I'm sure many other's awareness to the LGBT homelessness problem. Trai La Trash, also understanding what peaks gay interest, teased the crowd that if we donated more Mr. Siciliano would take off his shirt. Immediately I started thinking of my bank account. Grin.

After the speeches were finished and donations were in the fundraiser turned into an amazing traditional, all out, balls to the wall, raging house party. The DJ cued everyone in that the party was officially beginning by spinning the 2007 classic line, "It's Britney Bitch..." and the rest, well, the rest is holiday history. I guess you'll have come and donate next year to find out how much fun this party happens to be.

Halloween

...Knowing 6th Ave. was going to be packed because of the annual Halloween Parade I relied on my feet and skateboard to bring me back to the East Village. I needed to get to the thrift store by my apartment on 11th St. and Ave. C before it closed at 7PM. I work just above Canal St. on 6th Ave and as I flew out of work at 6PM I groaned at the already massive throngs of people hanging out on 6th. I figured I'd walk up 6th to Spring and cut east that way. Loud music was blaring, cops were scurrying around trying to direct both car and pedestrian traffic, road blocks were dropping to the left and right of me like a child's stomping foot trapping an ant. I looked at my watch: 6:07.

"Hey, officer, excuse me. Where can I cross the street," I asked an already grumpy cop standing behind a barricade.
"You got to go south man, back to Canal," he replied, "and quick! They're closing off the whole town."

Suddenly I got the feeling this was no longer just Halloween in New York but rather a city being walled in by marshal law. I shrugged and swiveled my heel south to Canal, determined not to let the stress of this holiday ruin my upcoming night out. As soon as I found some space I jumped on my board and crossed the street quickly, pretending not to hear the female cop's pleas for everyone to stay put. It was 6:15. I wasn't anywhere near home but, at least, I was on the east side of the street. I pushed forward, pumping hard through a disorganized mob of costumes and traffic. I had a smile which read "suckerssss" painted on my face as I coasted in and out of cars caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I caught the green light through Houston and focused my center of gravity as I swished through the torn up pavement of the always under-construction street.

At 6:25 I was just entering Washington Square Park. I knew I'd make it to the thrift store before it closed but I worried it might close early. I kicked through the park and up 5th Ave. which was the most jam-packed I had ever seen. The bike path became a battle between bikers, skaters and suddenly opening cab doors. I pushed passed a frustrated biker who seemed to be as in much of a rush as I was. "Hey asshole, this is a bike path!" he growled, passing me by. I would have thought about getting off the bike path in such a bumrush environment had I not noticed cops dropping barricades to the left and right of me. "Every man for himself," I thought as I pumped harder toward 10th St.

The rest of the journey was quick and easy except for navigating through costumed people ignoring any and all standard pedestrian street laws. People were already rowdy. I knew this was going to be a fun night. I arrived at the thrift store at 6:40 and sighed with relief that it was still open. I barged in.

"Hi," I said to the store clerk. "I'm the guy who called about the flannel shirt. I'm the werewolf."
She smiled warmly, "Oh yes, I think I've found the perfect shirt for you. Red flannel, right?"

The clerk, dressed as a witch, went behind the counter and pulled out a perfect red-plaid flannel button-down shirt.

"Perfect! THANK you," I jumped giving her a high five. I gave her five dollars and took the shirt without a bag. On the way out she gave me a tootsie roll and said, "Trick or treat."
"Thanks," I said. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Oh by the way, fierce hat!" And, with that I was gone and climbing the stairs to my apartment to get ready.

Eric, the roommate, was home laying on the bed with a pillow over his face. "Happy Halloween," I gleed and jumped on his bed. He gaged my level of excitement, rolled his eyes, sighed and said, "ugh. I think a nap is in store."

I left him alone and began preparing my costume. I took the flannel shirt, turned it inside out, found the seems of the sleeves and began cutting them off. I tried to rip it a bit to make it seem as though I was a werewolf freshly turned. It worked. I threw it on. My werewolf gloves, mask, fangs, painted my nose black at the tip and jumped upstairs to my gaybors apartment to see what they were up too. Jason wasn't ready at all and was pacing back and forth thinking of what he could pull together with what he has in his closet. Nick, on the other hand, was brutal. He was standing damn near 7 feet tall, gold sparkled platform boots going above his knee, white dress, red cape, blond wig. He was the best drag Shira (of Heman and Shira) I had ever seen. That is, of course, given that I had seen this costume before. He looked radiant and I made sure to stress that to him. We exchanged plans and details and I headed back down to my apartment to retrieve my cell phone. Alex called. 6 times. I called him back and he decided to head over from Mud Cafe.

Alex showed up 10 minutes later with a severe gash and black eye painted on his face. "I'm a bash victim," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Ok. You look great," and kissed him on the cheek. "Happy Halloween." Alex and I hung out for a bit at my apartment wasting time until he had to meet his friends elsewhere in the East Village. We both skated over to his friend's place where I wished him a good evening and headed out myself to see what the night held in store.

I had planned on meeting up with Wayne on Christopher street around 8ish. I haven't been to the West Village on Halloween before and he assured me it was quite the scene. I skated across town back to Fifth Ave. where the street became so jam-packed with people and cars I had to get off my skateboard. There were barricades on every street. People were walking all the way up to 14th just to cross east to west. It was ridiculous and managed poorly and cruelly by grumpy police with bully attitudes. I tried to play the dumb card and just walk on through 10th st. A cop stopped me.

"Where do you think you're going?"
"Uh, (duh) crossing the street."
"No you're not," the cop responded in that East Coast Italian you-looking-to-pick-a-fight tone.
"Where do I cross then?"
"Not here," he smugly spit back.
"You know," I said being very informal, "that doesn't help either of us."
"14th," he stated firmly
"14th!?, what're you crazy?!"
"What did you say to me," he asked, this time really looking for a fight.
I stepped back, "I said slowly, what-are-you-crazy? That's 4 blocks from here!"
"Looks like you're the one whose crazy. Now GET OFF THE STREET," he hollered.
I climbed under the barricade and stood across from him. I put a huge smile on my face and in the most excited and ecstatic tone, said, "Happy Halloween," and waved him bye.
What I was thinking though was more along the lines of: "You stupid mother fucking ape-bully. Go home and beat your wife, don't take your bullshit out on me, moron!" I stood there on the street grumbling my frustrations.

That was enough for me. It was time to head back east. Besides, from here I could see 6th Ave. was a stand-still of congested costumed traffic. There was no way I was getting across.

I skated back toward the East Village and went down to 6th St. to meet up with my pals at Eastern Bloc. I would have gone later but figured I didn't have any other plans up my sleeve. By the time I got inside the bar it was already packed. Josh was spinning Salt N' Peppa's "Push it" and I decided to have my first of many drinks for the evening.

I grabbed a cranberry and vodka (hey, it's a night of getting drunk) and swigged it while talking to Josh and petted his chest since his costume was a drowned Greg Louganis. Until that point I don't think I've ever seen Josh without a shirt and I was digging it. Eventually, Ludo showed up as one of the meanest clowns I've ever seen and Matt quickly followed dressed as a High School Coach. We all drank up, heavily, and enjoyed the scene of costumed gay-hipsterness around us. I was chatting with everyone, feeling more outgoing than usual, maybe it was the costume and made sure to give shit to people who didn't dress up.

After one-too-many drinks already Ludo and I headed to The Phoenix to have one more pint before we called it a night. The Phoenix was half packed and definitely less costumed out than Eastern Bloc. We grabbed a pint and found a seat. My friend, Steve, from Dodgeball was there dressed as a cowboy and I was forced to ask if he was, "broke-backian." He said he was and I smiled. We sat there chatting and drinking until it was time for a cigarette and to go home. Everyone departed and I jumped on my board. I took a look around me and despite the fact it was 2AM people were still out, drunker than ever and I decided to appreciate this and skate around for awhile. I kicked my way down Ave. A howling at the moon in my werewolf costume and getting others to jump in. "THIS is what Halloween is all about," I said aloud with a sloshed smile on my face. At 2:45 I noticed the streets had gone empty and that it was time for me to finally put Halloween to rest. I felt secure in this decision. There wasn't anything left to do. There were no more places to go and I was sure-as-hell tired of wearing this costume. I peddled up to 11th St., took off my mask and climbed the steps to my apartment.

Action Alert: Caliente Cab Co.

My good friends over at the Queer Justice League are throwing a big action on Tuesday Oct. 16th at 5:30PM. Here's is the QJL's info (you can also click on the flier to the left):

"On Tuesday, October 16th at 5:30 pm, there will be a large community-wide picket on the sidewalk outside the Caliente Cab Company Mexican Cafe (located at the corner of Seventh Avenue and Bleecker Street). The restaurant ejected a lesbian patron.

Transgender Legal Defense (TLDEF) and GLOBE (Gay & Lesbian Outreach of Bushwick Empowered) as well as other allied organizations will be joining us in protest.

On Gay Pride Day, earlier this year, a lesbian was ejected from the establishment after a complaint that a man was in the women's restroom.

The fact that the original incident occurred on a day in which the NYC celebrates difference in an area known for its social tolerance, makes the offense all the more egregious and deserving of criticism."

Caliente Cab Co. Restaurant: Eat This!

Aside from crappy food, Caliente Cab Co. just got served with a lawsuit! Metro New York Newspaper is reporting on the story of "A lesbian who says she was ejected from a female bathroom in a West Village restaurant after being mistaken for a man filed suit yesterday on anti-discrimination laws. Khadijah Farmer, 28, visited the Caliente Cab Company Mexican restaurant on June 24 — the day of the Gay Pride march. While she was using the women’s restroom, the suit alleges, a male bouncer began pounding on the door and asked her to leave because he thought she was a man. Farmer said she offered the bouncer her New York State ID as proof of her gender, but was tossed out anyway."

I reported on this gender discrimination story awhile back when The Queer Justice League (QJL), an organization I occasionally work with, protested and actioned outside the restaurant every Sunday during brunch to bring awareness of the issue to New Yorkers and both current and potential customers. In all honesty, I never thought the action would stick and voiced at meetings that the Queer Justice League might want to focus on another action. But, like the food at Caliente I have to eat shit, admit I was wrong and appalued The Queer Justice League for their first official success and commend all members who believed in this action! Although QJL is not mentioned in the article I know their support in this issue helped to bring it where it is today. I also pat the Transgender Legal Defense and Education Fund (TLDEF) on the back for filing the suit. The TLDEF, "alleges the restaurant “knowingly and intentionally” broke discrimination and human rights laws by ejecting Farmer, action it says caused “embarrassment, humiliation and emotional distress.” The suit demands a “permanent injunction” against gender discrimination at the restaurant, as well as compensatory and punitive damages in an amount to be determined at trial." Congradulations to Khadijah Farmer, TLDEF, and The Queer Justice League for sticking it through and bringing this case into light!

Weekends

Friday evening Nick was in town from Los Angeles and we caught up over dinner at some Hell's Kitchen joint called HK. There was lots of concrete and lights in the floor and straight lines and lagging service. Nick and I spit the details of our latest life back and forth and traded stories of our days in LA. It was nice to catch up, he's a good friend, it almost covered up the lackluster service and mediocre food. I got the bacon cheeseburger and while the presentation was good the meat didn't hit home. Craving something sweet and wanting to get the hell out of HK we hopped a cab downtown to Billy's Bakery. Billy's is an explosion of yellow and icing. Just smelling the place can give you a cavity. Everything is moist and soft and caked with I-just-gotta-lick-it frosting. Nick got a slice of the Red Velvet cake and I the blueberry cheesecake. Needless to say, five minutes later we were sitting outside, stomach bloated spitting sugar out of our teeth and I dying for a cigarette. We remained there for awhile before Nick was meeting a friend at the Eagle. I escorted him there had a beer and split. The cheesecake had done me in.

Saturday I woke up and grabbed brunch with Eric the roommate and Randee at a new Italian/Mexican fusion restaurant across the street from my apartment. This place serves a brunch like no other. It's not your typical omelet and French toast fare. In fact, New York Time's Magazine says, "What do you get when a Tuscan chef marries a Mexican one? In the case of Matilda, a quirky new Alphabet City restaurant, you get wood-burning-oven-baked focaccia with your guacamole, prosciutto and basil in your quesadilla, and filet mignon alla Fiorentina in your tacos.." The brunch menu alone had so many interesting choices that it became the first time in a long time I had tothink further than eggs or pancakes. Check this place out.
Afterward Eric went home and I Randee and I jumped to Mud Cafe to say hi to Brooklyn and borrow her long board. Soon enough Randee and I were thrashing our way over to the West side where we spend many weekend afternoons. The weather was gorgeous and we took our time heading over and up. We started at 9th st. and 2nd Ave. Headed up 5th to 20th and skated over to 8th where our friend Sasha just moved in. We stopped by, met her parents, wished her luck on unpacking and headed back out to the West Side Highway bike path and down to the Christopher St. Pier. The sun was just hitting that early autumn 4pm peak giving way to a golden-pink sunset and a breeze which made us feel sedate. We went out on the pier skating a few yards in and spotted a fur patch of friends. Frank, Tony, Danny, and Andy greeted us with smiles and made room for us on their sheet. Something about those piers, the weather, Jersey City sparking across the river and probably the feeling of soft green grass under my toes makes me incredibly energetic and I pounced on my friends like a kitten to cat nip. Soon enough we were all rolling around, throwing grass and piggy-backs at each other. We enjoyed ourselves and the particularly odd warm weather until the sun grew tired and Randee and I hungry. The gang split apart, Randee and I jumping on our boards once again and eventually finding dinner of nachos and fajitas with Eyal and Brendan. It was just the perfect cap for a Saturday so filled with warmth.









Sunday started off pretty lazy. I didn't get up until noon and started answering some questions Michael Crawford a contributor from Bilerico.com had asked me after taking an interest in my HIV/AIDS Public Service Announcement. They were questions based primarily on my experiences in the community as a young gay man, what influences motivated me to be outspoken and whether or not I have any answers to solving the HIV-still-matters issue and the generation non-communication gap. I had fun answering his questions. I answered in complete honesty and really reached within myself to find the root causes of why I care. Can it be simply that I just do? It's hard for me to conceptualize the idea that some people don't. I finished half the questions and got ready to head out, after all it is New York Leather Fest. I strapped on a Sam Brown, picked up Randee and we jetted to the West Village to check out the leather fest, not because I'm particularly even into leather, but because I care that events like these continue having the right to exist. Randee and I got there and I introduced her to my posse and other fellow tribesmen. I met up with Alex, one of my fiercest buddies, who was assigned the role of Leather Weekend Photographer and we bought some drinks and enjoyed the leather strapped, snap, crack and whap exhibitions. The crowd was mostly tame, easy going and the street wasn't even packed but it still ended up being fun day in the sun. A new reason to just get together with friends and people once again before the autumn officially begins. Before late, low and behold, the Dugout was packed to the walls with men enjoying themselves. Randee grew tired of being a delicate seashell in the ocean of men and retired to her board and a peaceful night. I ran off with Alex, uptown to the Eagle to finish off another night and another week.

S&M/LeatherFest Makes the News

AM New York Newspaper was on the spot yesterday and published an article this morning of the West Village's Leather Festival. The crowd was fairly mild with most people inside drinking and enjoying themselves. Shirtlessness and leather attire was definitely prevalent (thank god!) Apparently, some West Village residents were upset over the scene visible to any pedestrian or child. To that I say, "get over it and keep walking." Uh, hey, New Yorkers when did it suddenly become a surprise that festivals like this happen here, and yeah, in the West Village?

Leather Weekend Makes the Post

I was reading the NY Post on the downtown A train and smiled upon seeing the mention of NYC Leather Weekend, thrown by organizer and familiar bear-in-the-crowd buddy, Robert Valin. Holla! See ya there.

Here's the NY Post blurb:

S&M Fair to 'Hit' Village
By Christina R. Fagen (ha! "fag"en!)
"October 1, 2007 -- A public flogging will bring some to their knees on the West Side next week - and they'd better love it. The city's first-ever, kinky-sex street fair will feature open-air flogging, hard-core leather-whip types and punishment fans in cowboy chaps."It's a celebration of leather and fetish," said New York Leather Invasion group leader Robert Valin, one of the organizers of the Oct. 7 event on Weehawken Street near the West Side Highway."

Parade Without a Permit Rally

With a huge turnout of people, wonderful signs, loud drummers, banners, fliers and information about the action the Parade Without A Permit Rally was a tremendous success (and a helluva lot of fun!) People gathered at the fountain in the center of Washington Square Park, amidst a growing police presence, and began handing out stickers and fliers to everyone. The drummers took their stance behind the banners at the front of the mass and began walking out of Washington Square, through the West Village and up to Chelsea in boisterous chants and drum beats. The crowd, well over 200 people caused a stir in the West Village causing people to come out of their apartments or current restaurants and watch the parade. The spectators were immediately given a flier and quickly brought up to date on the issue. The police were tremendously cooperative. They kindly listened to the organizers about what route the parade was headed next and they would run up ahead and stop on-coming traffic for us to continue rallying safely. Thank you.

Happy Friday!

Ahh, yes, it's here again! Happy Friday!

Here's is what's going down this weekend: Despite the possibility of some showers this evening the rest of the weekend should be clear and bright with temperatures in the 70's.

Friday: Rich King and Gustavo's always fun, friendly, foxxxy, furry SNAXX Party in the basement of the West Side Tavern. (23rd between 8th/9th.)Saturday: check out:
The last party of RainDanceNYC a DJ dance party hosted down at the South Street Sea Port right under the Brooklyn Bridge. Check out the website for details and DJ line up.

Also on Saturday, journey over to Washington Square Park at 7PM for the Parade Without A Permit Rally, a protest organized to fight the city's latest crackdown on civil liberties by demanding cop-approved permits for any general assembly of over 50 people in NYC.


Sunday:
Head over to Brooklyn for the 33rd annual Atlantic Antic festival which features 10 blocks of food, festivities, through the heart of Brownstone Brooklyn. 10Am-6PM.

If you haven't had enough beer at Atlantic Antic (and you're pissed you didn't make it to Folsom St. Fair this year) head over to The Eagle for their Sunday weekly beer blast for cheap drinks and even cheaper men. (I tried really hard to not make this sound like a Next Magazine ad, yipes!)