The Five Most Fabulous Men Under My Christmas Tree

The Rockerfeller Center tree is up and New York City is aglow with more lights than usual because it's holiday season. Such a happy time of year but equally tragic when all the lights and decorations are taken down shortly after the new year.  I am currently reminded, however, that as tomorrow is December 1st, it's time to compose my Christmas list for that hunky Mr Santa Claus, envisioned by moi as seen above. Love the sparklers, and I hear he's got a big roman candle to boot!

As for presenting dear Santa with my Christmas list, I so so so want the Joan Crawford and Mommie Dearest wallets from Rainbows & Triangles in Chelsea (pictured amongst the collection at right). But, modestly priced, I could easily purchase them myself; no need to bother Mr Claus.

There's the pricey little leopard-skin print Christopher Radko-designed Cyndi Lauper Christmas ball at Bloomingdale's that would be perfect for my tree. And there's the sexy John Varvados scarf for $248 plus tax that I'm qvelling over. Of course, Santa, since you won't be staying after you've tasted my cookies and milk (busy guy that you are, going up and down my chimney), you could always leave me one of my five currently most fabulous men, tied up with a big bow on top.

Well, there's the tall, Irish-looking, redhead personal trainer (I imagine, since he's always wearing spiffy athletic gear to work with no apparent change of outfit) with the humungous sneakers. And there's the Slavic guy with chiseled features, stubble and sexy dark eyes who always wears fatigues and a trendy scarf this time of year. I usually see at least one of these hotties on my morning commute. Unfortunately, I can't Google their images for the prurient interest of my gentle readers. But, Santa, you know who I mean and should add them as Fabulous Men numbers 6 and 7, thank you.

But now, I turn to more well-known men to comprise the Top 5 on my Christmas List:

#1: Channing Tatum.

'Nuff said.

#2: Zeb Atlas. I may have spoken ill about his ability as a disco divo http://djbuddybeaverhausen.blogspot.com/2011/09/zeb-atlas-in-discoworld.html
but that doesn't mean I'd kick the big lug out of bed, Santa!

#3: Daniel Craig. 007? Yes. Stirred, not shaken. Is that a pistol in his pocket or is he just happy it's Christmas? He could make the earth move under my sheet... and the sky fall! Good to see him back in action (on the big screen, I mean) with buns as hard as steel. Surly, scruffy British guys are my weakness. Well, one of my weaknesses!

#4: Cheyenne Jackson.

I really don't have to explain him, do I?

#5: Ricky Martin. He looks better with age and even sexier since coming out.

Hot stuff for cold weather.

So, if anyone reading this wants to be my secret Santa and send me one (or more) of these five Fabulous Men, please feel free in the crazy spirit of the season. Any of the above would be the gift that keeps on giving. Hopefully! Please include a magnum of quality champagne and flutes (glass, not plastic). Otherwise, the John Varvados scarf and Radko Christmas ornament will do nicely.

Merry Christmas. I love you, Santa!

In conclusion, I'll turn things over to The Weather Girls in their 1983 video:

The Gingerbread House of Bay Ridge

It's in showing guests the stately homes of Bay Ridge, just west of Third Avenue, that's an adventure for me as well. And so, with cousins Walter and Susan, we took the tour to the waterfront (with its own view of the river running into the briny bay, the Verazzano Bridge sparkling to one side and, to the other, the isle of Manhattan, both glistening in the sun amidst the stretch of barges, docked cruise boats and the tour boats up and down the waters).

The river breezes cooled us off, but it was a hot, sunny New York city day in any event. En route, however, we stopped to marvel at Bay Ridge's Gingerbread House. This home is perfect for any hobbit. Albeit, one with a pot'o'gold. That would exclude yours truly. I'd love to nibble nibble on this house, but alas and alack!

The landscaping of lawn and garden around the home, alone, must command a hefty upkeep. When the house went up for sale in 2009, the asking fee was $12 million. That's a lot of gingerbread, sweeties! A real estate source was quoted as saying that the estate “has a bowling alley in the basement and a revolving garage door. All they have to do is push a button, and the entire garage floor shifts so they never have to back out.” Outside, it also has an impressive faux-thatched roof that's both wavy and surreal.

Officially known as the Howard E. and Jesse Jones House, this incredible place looks like something directly out of a Grimm brothers' fairy tale. Hence, its nickname. It is an official New York City landmark, to boot.

The grand, ultra-bourgeoise, Mediterranean-styled mansions of exclusive Shore Road, with their ornate decks and pools, private marble entrance ways and driveways, large pillars and hanging gardens in the summer, take a back seat to the uniqueness of the Gingerbread House.

The Gingerbread House sits at 8220 Narrows Avenue in an exclusively residential area of this Brooklyn neighborhood. It would appear the home, built in 1917, has a new owner, but he or she remains unannounced. "The current owners may just want to keep it that way, never answering the door no matter how many times we knocked," reported The Brooklyn Paper.

Hansel and Gretel, please note.

Meanwhile, in Manhattan, Katie Holmes found new digs away from Tom Cruise, pronto, for Suri and self this Independence Day weekend.  It's in Chelsea (which, actually, is where Tom might consider relocating, frankly, to better suit his lifestyle). A neighbor at the Chelsea Mercantile building told E! News, "This building knows celebrities from the day it has been opened.... The list is long. It is like Hollywood in the east, the Dakota of Chelsea."

It's reportedly a two-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath apartment for about $12,500. A month, that is. That's a lot of gingerbread, too. Maybe she'll visit Dj Buddy Beaverhausen's favorite Chelsea boutique, Rainbows & Triangles, where she'll discover the best in dance-music cds.

Botox on My Boombox

Cds & vinyl in NYC

Chelsea's source for (mostly dance music) cds

I have nothing against downloads. In fact, I download whenever it's convenient or it's the only way I can score a song. But, to my taste, there's nothing like cds: art work & design, the art of packaging, liner notes and credits. I also prefer the joy of walking into a store, plunking down my money, and walking out with my music in a bag over ordering online and waiting for delivery. With all the majors closed, I do my cd shopping in New York City at Rainbows & Triangles in Chelsea (Eighth Ave. between 19th & 20th Streets in Chelsea) and Rebel Rebel (Bleecker Street between Christopher & Grove in the Village. Rebel also sells vinyl! Can you believe it?)

Forever blonde: DeShannon

I finally purchased Jackie DeShannon's 2011 album, When You Walk in the Room. Jackie re-does her old hits, songs she's written that were hits by others ("Bette Davis Eyes," "Breakaway,"), songs others wrote for her ("Needles & Pins" by Jack Nitzsche & Sonny Bono), and a few obscurities and originals.

It's a strikingly minimalist production. Just DeShannon's vocals, guitar with additional acoustic guitar by Steve Luxenberg. The title song is the opener and it eschews the Spectoresque production of the original version for a folkier flavor. "Breakaway" and "Don't Doubt Yourself Babe" similarly shake off the more wired productions
made famous by Tracey Ullman and The Byrds, respectively.

"Put a Little Love in Your Heart," undoubtedly Jackie's best remembered hit (co-written by her brother, Randy Myers, and Jimmy Holiday (father of dance diva Debby Holiday)), emerges as a nicely mellow rendition, as does the Bacharach-David, "What the World Needs Now Is Love." And "Bette Davis Eyes," which Jackie first recorded, with Kim Carnes' cover responsible for making it an international hit, is done simply with a smooth, soft vocal.

It's a true joy to have a recent release by one of the Sixties' great female singer/songwriters. Mellow is not usually one of my favorite moods when it comes to pop music, but I'll make an exception for the clear, direct naturalness of the brilliantly intimate and pared-down sound on this cd. It lavishly invites us to hear the richness and versatility of music from Ms DeShannon's portfolio.

Out of the Game is Rufus Wainwright's new album, coming after 2010's All the Days Are Nights: Song for Lulu. That dark album was influenced by the death of Rufus' mother, Kate McGarrigle (of The McGarrigle Sisters). Now, Rufus is gonna tell me somethin' good, as his name demands.

Rufus, looking sporty

Out of the Game's opener is also the title tune, a bright pop number beautifully buoyed by Wainwright's rich tenor vox, followed by "Jericho," a song that sounds very Neil Diamond to me; very pop, very catchy. Both numbers are beautifully produced by Mark Ronson with equal, full-bodied brilliance.  (The British Ronson has previously, famously produced Amy Winehouse, Adele, Robbie Williams and Lily Allen.)

The two initial numbers had a mesmerizing hold on me and made me look forward to the tracks yet to come. The pedigreed, out Rufus takes us on a journey through well-crafted lyrics both purely pop and superficial, and revealingly personal. I would place him on par with Joni Mitchell when she was at her most accessible Court and Spark period.

This is Rufus' best album since the 2007 Release the Stars, produced by my man, Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys. Conclusion: Brits do the best producing when it comes to music. Special thanks to Jade DaRu, make-up artist to the stars and dear friend, for turning me on to Rufus.

Brits make the best cd compilations as well. And I adore the Disco Discharge series that thrills me with each and every two-cd release, the latest reaching these shores being subtitled American Hot. It opens with a very fabulous "Love for the Sake of Love" sung by Claudja Barry, which sounds like "Love to Love You Baby" mixed with "I Can't Stand the Rain" by Eruption mixed with a Dorothy Lamour South Seas number.

More excellence follows, as I spin back to my youth, the music on these discs like Botox, rejuvenating me.  "Last Night in Danceland" is quite the retro disco ballad, vocalist Randy Crawford informing us she "felt like Ginger Rogers after she left Fred Astaire."

Every track's a rarity and a winner, thanks to Mr Pinks. Herbie Mann's "Superman" is a forgotten popular disco floor-filler, and pre-Dawn Tony Orlando's "Don't Let Go" a funky groove-thang shaker.

Cissy Houston, Sylvester, Ritchie Family, Andrea True Connection, Aretha Franklin and Luther Vandross help round out this fantastic return to the heart and soul of classic disco.

Liner notes by Alan Jones. Visit Discoguy on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1310504094&ref=ts

Do it to me, Superman!

Dj Buddy B's Q & A with Author Johnny Morgan

For my second blog interview, it is my pleasure to get a chance to find out more about Britain's brilliant writer on the topic of music, Johnny Morgan. I highly recommend checking out his blog, Rum Do (see below), to read his entertaining, thoughtful and often uniquely personal views on pop music. His book, Disco: The Music, The Times, The Era is one of my all-time favorite books on the subject of dance music and, in particular, classic '70s disco.

Buddy B: First, I think Disco: The Music, The Times, The Era is an amazing book and my new bible on the topic. It's encyclopedic and obviously well researched. Was it a labor of love for you?

Johnny Morgan: Thank you. It was a labor of love and memory. Disco was a formative part of my growing up and the music, the dancing, the clothes and experience of hearing, seeing and feeling the rush (un-chemically aided) on the dance floor as different tracks blended into one another has remained with me. It was always ignored by mainstream media at the time (1970-1978 particularly) and the kind of tough, male working-class guys I grew up with all preferred rock music — and I hated Prog Rock — at the time. Disco introduced me to a new circle of friends; mostly female and gay, and helped me to discover who I wanted to be aged 14.

BB: How long was this book in the making, from your first draft to your final edits?

JM: I’d tried to sell the idea to publishers around 2004, and had written the outline, had pages designed etc., but no-one wanted to know. It went back into my ‘pending’ file until 2009 and after the success of the Gaga book. It took almost a year of writing and researching the images etc.

BB: I was thrilled to find the foreward was written by Gloria Gaynor! How did that come about?

JM: Very easily. Essential Works (the company who put the book together) simply emailed to ask Gloria, and she said ‘yes’.

BB: The book covers Disco so thoroughly, I can't imagine you left anything out. In retrospect, is there anything you felt you omitted or would like to go back and add?

JM: There are always things that get left out of any book of this kind, simply because you can’t constrain every aspect of such a social, sexual, and political movement like disco into 400 pages. There are some great non-illustrated books on the subject out there, and many have first-person accounts given by DJs and club owners who were there (reading some can be like getting caught in a DJ booth during a screaming queen bitch-fest, though). But there are a wealth of images from back in the day still to be put into context and shown off; the people who were there and took photos haven’t all been published; the flyers, posters, magazines etc. were all fantastically original and ground-breaking works of graphic art and have influenced the fine and commercial art scene and let’s not even mention the fashion world! Because disco was about a hidden world for so long and then when it went overground was so derided by the homophobic, racist ‘disco sucks’ assholes, it hasn’t been afforded the same degree of consideration as other social movements like punk or grunge, New Romanticism or New Wave (puh-leeeze!) by the art world. I’d like to create an art book, consider more of the creative artists and their influence on mainstream and underground art. See Leigh Bowery for example…

BB: Disco: The Music, The Times, The Era is available on Amazon.com and, obviously, I highly recommend it to everyone reading this. In New York, it's been a big seller at Rainbows & Triangles in Chelsea, which is where I scored my copy. Steven, the owner (who calls Rainbows "New York's gay general store"), keeps restocking it. You should have your publisher arrange a book signing next time you're in NYC.

JM: I’d love to. Thanks for the tip.

BB: There's a great photo in the book of you with Donna Summer (striking a sweet, coquettish pose next to you). The caption mentions it's 1976. That was the year; what was the place? (You look as if you're really enjoying yourself.)

JM: Ah. Sorry, but I can’t talk about that…

BB: Like The Art of the LP, a book you co-authored, Disco is a physically large, "coffee table"-formatted book, filled with amazing pictures that accomodate your text. Because of the layout and all the brilliant archival images (many I've never seen before), I think buying a hard copy of the book is the way to go. Kindle wouldn't allow you the same experience. What's your view on that?

JM: It’s a problem with illustrated books. At present you can’t integrate text and images on an ereader, because when you zoom in on a pic, you throw the text out of kilter and unless you embed captions in the image (thus ruining them), you can’t easily access what is what. Then again, lovely looking, hefty tomes such as Disco + Art of the LP are the reason why physical books will continue to be printed. How’d you give an ebook as a gift and get the same lovely smile when it’s ‘unwrapped’? Doesn’t work.

BB: According to the brief liner notes in Disco, "Johnny Morgan has written popular music books for more than tweny years." How did you get started?

JM: It’s a long story, but basically I got my first staff writing gig (at Time Out London) because I owned a Johnny Cash album at a time when it was very uncool to own Cash albums (i.e. pre-American Recordings), to become their Country Music editor. I got to interview him later, at the House of Cash, but that’s another story, too. Best thing about the first job was getting to know kd lang as she was breaking in 1988. I also freelanced from day one and worked for a lot of different magazines and newspapers.

BB: What attracted you to write Gaga? Was researching that a piece of cake compared to the voluminous Disco?

JM: It’s tempting to say ‘the advance’ attracted me, but it’s also fair to say that I was intrigued by Gaga and saw so many inspirations from my musical past (Bowie, Bowery, LaBelle etc.) in her look, that researching it was a pleasure — and kinda easy because I knew where she was coming from. Well, her and Lady Starlight…

BB: As a follower of your blog, Rum Do(johnnymorgansrumdo.blogspot.com), I really enjoy the way you blend personal, even autobiographical, details with the history of pop music and write about the interrelationship, through the years. How do you perceive your blog and how do you choose your topics?

JM: Back in the day, writing was a joy and the reader was guaranteed because they bought the magazines (and books) I wrote for. In the late 1990s writing became a chore and while the reader was still there, the musicians, artists and creatives that I used to interview and write about were becoming strictly policed by PRs who no longer let the journalist get their client drunk and tease stuff out of them that they should not reveal. I gave up writing about stuff I liked because it wasn’t fun any more, plus no-one was interested — or so the people running the mags, papers and presses kept insisting. My blog is an excuse to enjoy writing again. Hopefully there are people out there who have lived a similar life and recognize the things I write about, or else want to know something about elements of a past which is now gone and beginning to be forgotten.

A friend of mine who lectures at a major University told me the other day that he mentioned David Bowie in a lecture and was met by blank stares. He had to explain who Bowie was. I also occasionally lecture and last year found myself explaining what a Teddy Boy was. So, the blog is there to help me to remember what my life once was, how the world used to be and hopefully inform, entertain and interact with people who are similarly interested. Topics for blogs choose themselves, I get the urge to write and because of the immediacy of the medium, it gets done.

BB: I actually had no idea what the British phrase "rum do" meant, so I looked it up. (Obviously nothing to do with rum, as in Cpt. Morgan's.) What I read was the term originally meant variously "good, fine, excellent or great" but, around 1800, came to mean "odd, strange or peculiar." Which interpretation applies to your blog title?

JM: Definitely the later definition — I’m not so old that I would use the pre-1800 definition. My name also played a part in the naming because of the Captain — a distant relative, I’m sure.

BB: Thanks for your time and for answering my questions, Johnny. I'd just like to ask one last thing: Is there another book you're working on and can you say anything at all about it?

JM: Thanks for asking me. At present I’m ‘between books’, but as soon as I
fix on something, I’ll let you know.

Note: Johnny Morgan's Gaga, Disco & Art of the LP are available on Amazon, Barnes & Nobles and -- of course -- wherever fine books are (still) sold. Additionally, if in New York, visit Rainbows and Triangles, 192 Eighth Avenue between 19th & 20th Streets to purchase a copy of Disco: The Music, The Times, The Era. Please check out Johnny's blog. If you're into music, you'll love it.

Where The Boys Were

Making the Boys: The Story Behind The Boys in the Band is a documentary that is so much more than its title suggests.

I bought the dvd on a recent trip to the gay "general store," Rainbows and Triangles, in Chelsea (8th Ave. between 18th/19th Streets, NYC) and it blew my mind! It starts in the Swingin' '60s, when being gay was not swingin' at all. Still considered a mental illness, police harrassment against open congregations of gay people was not only legal, but routine.

It was the sweltering June night Judy Garland died that brought about The Stonewall Riots. The queens weren't suffering it again that night, honeys! Enough was enough was enough was enough! And so Gay Pride Day was born and, too, the Gay Liberation movement as we now know it.

Making the Boys is nothing short of amazing. Great archival footage of pre-Lib gay life of the 1960's and beyond, accompanied by talking heads the likes of Michael Musto, Paul Rudnick, ex-Mayor Koch, Dominick Dunne, Terrence McNally, Tony Kushner, Robert Wagner, Cheyanne Jackson, film's director William Friedkin and creator/playwrite Mart Crowley.

A fascinating look into the past, through a glass darkly, as well as a study of the genesis of The Boys in the Band, from play to film, the documentary opened my eyes to what a great friend Natalie Wood was to the gay community, and how the Polish-American princess was so essential in getting her dear friend, Crowley's, play off the ground.

Crowley was a Hollywood screenwriter whose credits included a serious re-write of the pilot for Bette Davis' proposed, Aaron Spelling-produced sitcom, The Designer, which was, maybe, a tad too gay and AbFabish before its time. It was not picked up and never aired.

Edward Albee appears (with a static-cling cowlick somebody should have attended to) to say that yes, The Boys in the Band owes a structural debt to his Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? , but he doesn't mind and thinks that's hunky-dory, praising Crowley.

Laurence Luckinbill (Lucie Arnaz's long-time hubby) and Peter White are the two still-living members of the original cast to comment herein on the play and film, sadly. Many members have passed from AIDS. Straight Cliff Gorman, who, oddly, played the biggest queen, Emory, in the original film and play, died from other causes.

Truly ironic, there was an immediately post-Stonewall reaction to The Boys in the Band, when activists felt the characters in the groundbreaking play were gay Stepin Fetchits, and not p.c.

I can't recommend this documentary highly enough. Please, whoever you are, do not take your rights for granted, especially in today's climate. And see this film! (Available at http://www.amazon.com/Making-Boys-Edward-Albee/dp/B00551QQHK/ref=sr_1_1?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1326161845&sr=1-1 Just cut & paste into your browser.)

From 1960, written by Neil Sedaka and voiced by Connie Francis:

RONNIE SPECTOR & DARLENE LOVE, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree (1992)

Thanksgiving dinner's over and tomorrow, in America, it's Black Friday: the unofficial first day heading toward Christmas when merchants hope to go into the black due to holiday shoppers. Many people in the USA have Thanksgiving and the following day off work, adding up to a four-day holiday weekend.

So, we're all heading toward Christmas now, all around the globe, and it's time for some good, hard to find holiday music. First up: the first and only (I believe) duet between Phil Spector's divas Ronnie Spector and Darlene Love, covering the famed Brenda Lee rock'n'roll Christmas number. It's a great production I think you'll all enjoy.

Ronnie will be singing, on Black Friday, at the lighting of the South Street Seaport Christmas tree. Her Christmas show, in New York City this year, will be at The Cutting Room in the Flatirons District. Darlene Love will again be at B. B. King's NYC, which I already have tickets to.

So, here are two legendary rock'n'roll women joining forces for the first and probably only time to wish us all a Merry Christmas.

By the way, if in NYC, doing your gift buying, stop in Rainbows & Triangles on 8th Ave. between 19th & 20th Streets for great cds and, at this time of year, Christmas music and other fabulous gifts to make the season gay.

Eye Candy

"What book is Dj Buddy B reading now?" If this, possibly, is a question on your minds that you've been afraid to ask, fortuitously it's one I'm prepared to answer.

As my friends know, I love trashy celeb bios. The more salacious and scandal-infested, the better. Gone, virtually, is the high-minded literature of my days as an English major as I make my way through a morass of purple prose. It was my doctor (Frank Spinelli, author of the very well-received The Advocate Guide to Gay Men's Health and Wellness) who recommended Not the Girl Next Door by Charlotte Chandler, catering to my rather unhealthy and not-quite-well, I'm certain, pre-occupation with all things Joan Crawford. (I recently purchased a "Joan Crawford: America's Sweetheart" button off ebay if that clues you in to my obsession!)

While a breezy, well-written recount of the star's life, NtGND unfortunately comes a cropper (as Judith Crist used to say) when it comes to airing dirty laundry, something I steadfastly demand. (I have standards after all!) In fact, the bio is gushingly protective of JC, quoting from Ms Chandler's first-hand interviews with Crawford and taking Joan's often phoney, image-perpetuating spins on her life unquestioningly at face value. It's a virtual sin, as far as I'm concerned, for which there is no penance. According to this account, Joan arrived in Hollywood as a pillar of moral virtue without a silent blue movie or casting couch in sight!

The book, still being read, languishes on my night stand near my bed while, on the little, goldfish-patterned table, sits the magnificently large, "coffee table"-formatted DISCO: The Music/ The Times/ The Era by Johnny Morgan, published by Sterling (NY/London/Canada). The book is lavishly illustrated with amazing, drop-dead-gorgeous photos of legendary disco divas like Labelle (Patti, Nona & Sarah), Gloria Gaynor (who wrote the foreward) and Donna Summer (posing with the author in '78). This book was recommended to me by my friend, Steven Spiro, owner of Rainbows & Triangles on 8th Avenue in NYC (19th/20th Sts.), which is where fellow New Yorkers can snap it up. Otherwise, check out Amazon or order through your bookstore. (R&T has a large book section catering to the gay community; so, if visiting New York, stop in and peruse it along with the dance-music cd section.)

The book is a true treasure and Mr Morgan is a genius on the subject of disco music; his knowledge is encyclopedic. DISCO is nothing less than an absolutely definitive story of the rise and fall of an era beginning with its start in the go-go clubs of the 1960s (London's Ad Lib Club, New York's Peppermint Lounge) from the music's Soul and Girl Group origins. This isn't the kind of book you can Kindle. Largely because of the photos and design, you really have to experience it in book form.

From the marketing notes on the back of its jacket: "These are the stories of excess, success and duress; myths are exploded and dance steps decoded. Every night was a party. And you can relive it here." In this instance, believe the hype. Brilliant! I love this book and highly recommend it!

Gloria Gaynor writes beautifully, in her foreward, of the infamous 1979 Disco Demolition Night in Comiskey Park: "[I]f these people hated disco, why did they have disco records to begin with?" Good point! Go, Glo! And she does goes on: "I happen to know that disco has never died though;... It has simply changed to protect the innocent."

ps: On the current dance music front, as I predicted back in May, Ricky Martin's "Freak of Nature" is on the rise to number 13 on the US Billboard Dance Club Songs chart, after 4 weeks, up from #21 last week. It is included on my Gay Pride 2011 promo. Kylie Minogue's "Put Your Hands Up" is at #16, strongly after only 3 weeks. It can be found on my "Fagtastic" cd, still popular since distributed for dj-promo-purposes-only in April. Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" holds on at #48 after 16 weeks with Lady Gaga's "Judas" at #30 after 11 (both on the Pride '11 promo). Beth Ditto's "I Wrote the Book" (on my recent "Fire Island House Party" promo) is now at #26 with Gaga's "Edge of Glory" up at 8 (on same promo). And Yoko Ono bursts onto the scene once more with her current "Talking to the Universe". And she was actually at Peppermint Lounge!

Lastly, I want to thank everyone who has viewed my blog thus far, I hope you enjoy my posts or promos, and a special thanks to viewers in Thailand, the Ukraine, India and Iran. (I do check my stats, you know!) Dance music pulls us together. Make love, not war or, as I always say: Why fight? Dance! Fuck Disco Demolition Night and all the haters of the world!

Love, peace, happiness and disco! :)

Gay, Gay, Gay

Sunday, June 26 turned out to be a particularly euphoric Gay Pride event. You see, I consider myself very lucky as the parade (by which, of course, I seriously mean the march) passes right by my building. It was a beautiful day weather-wise and the mimosas (champs with red grapefruit juice) and strawberry wine flowed freely. The marriage equality law had just passed the previous Friday evening (a b.f.d.; "Happy gays are here again," said Jon Stewart on tv), the weather was beautiful and friends Tracey & Merv just returned from a five-year hiatus in Arizona, returning to Connecticut before they got caught in one of the crossfires out there. It was our first Pride at my place since they'd left. (Tracey didn't know the march now turns off Fifth at the wider 8th St. venue rather than Washington Square South; that's how long it's been.)

I called my mother in Florida to say "Happy Pride Day!" Said my mother: "Friday? I thought it was Sunday!" Sigh.

Kevin marched with his church group but ditched them at 10th St. to get in the queue that would take him on the sidewalks to my place. My friend, Delores, was there, as were Merv's daughter, Shannon and her friend. And on the stoop is where I get to schmooze with neighbors I only otherwise say hi to in passing. Photographer Patrick McMullan was there as was the old lady with the turban, face full of make-up and zipped-up caftan. "I have nothing on under this," she loudly whispered to me for God-knows-what-reason as the parade passed us by. It was the too-much-info moment of my day. When she saw the hottie on a float, shaking his money-maker while wearing a thong, she added, "But I don't like when it gets dirty." I wanted to say, "But he's wearing underwear! It's all he's wearing, but he is wearing underwear!" However, my lips stayed zipped as did her caftan, thankfully for both.

Zipping my lips for the Moment of Silence, the one minute during which we honor those whose lives ended too soon due to the AIDS crisis, is always so difficult. I never realized how hard it is for me to shut up for a full minute -- or, for that matter, how long a minute can seem -- until this time arrives every year and all goes silent. But I managed it as I do every Pride Day. My body was wracked with serious aches and pains that joyous day, too, because I, who am unofficially "domestically challenged" (upgraded from "domestically disabled" when I reached my deepest nadir), spent over a week cleaning my ridiculously tiny studio. That's how much I love my friends; there is nothing I won't do for them, including scrubbing tile (but only in my own apt, f.y.i.). In the end, it may not have sparkled but it shone; no span but plenty of spic!

So, the following Thursday, feeling less sore, I went to Rainbows and Triangles (New York's "gay general store," as the owner, Steven, likes to call it) in Chelsea, then hailed a cab home to the Village. (Rainbows has the best dance music collections on cd, I swear. Check 'em out.) The driver, a Carribean man, stared at me for a while in the rear-view mirror. "You know who I thought you were?" he asked, at last. That opening line is, for me, always an invitation to trouble so I just said I had "no idea."

"He's about your age" (Uh-oh, we're going there!) "And he's gay, too...." What!?!

Gay, too?!? Frankly, I don't recall coming out to him inside his cab, as if it were a confession booth on wheels. "Gay too"! The cheek!

Then the name dawned on him, and he grinned. "Elton John!"

Excuse me? Elton fucking John?!? Despite my black shirt, gold sharkskin tie & sunglasses (not outrageously large), I thought I looked better than Elton John! My ego was deflated. But perhaps, in an alternate reality somewhere in London, a cabbie is telling Elton John that he looks like me. And Elton is braying out from behind famously gapped teeth, to David Furnish, no doubt: "Dj Buddy fucking Beaverhausen?!?" I mean, you just never know about these things.

But, honestly, at this point, I'm all fagged out. For now. And the only thing sore is my psyche.