TENNESSEE - FOR FREE LOVE & EXPRESSION

Berlin - Paris - Salt Lake - New York - Berlin 3-18-9

2009-03-17T19:44:00.000-07:00

Okay my precious, darling readers, I'm baaack! How ever have you all survived without me? It's a damn miracle, really. I have received one too many emails, inquiring as to whether or not I am still alive, so I figured it's probably best if I cease in my procrastination and finally update this damn blog. The problem with going nearly four months (has it really been that long?) without any updates is that now I have a shit load of stuff to cover. Some seriously crazy shit has been happening in my life, but don't you worry my pretties! We'll get to that, all in good time! so I guess I'll just go through it all month by month, starting with late November where I left off, and in the future, I will try and get my lazy ass in gear and start posting a bit more regularly. Travis and I are still doing PORK and it's going rather swimmingly if I do say so myself. We have a different guest DJ every week. It's become very mixed as more and more people are figuring out that it's really just a crazy and debauched dance party, rather than the straight up sex party that it admittedly sounds like. Actually it is quite mixed with men and women of all ages coming. It's just a whole lot of boozy fun and whenever I'm there, I make sure everyone on the dance floor goes shirtless, ladies included! For those of you who are in Berlin on a Sunday night, come on down and get PORKED with me and all my crazed cohorts. It's a real riot and an experience that you won't soon forget! Late in November was the grand opening of Nathan's new gallery space and the adjoining "ArtBar". I showed up sashaying up the spiral staircase in the most ridiculous costume ever (baggy striped cords tucked into black combat boots, black leather jacket and my russian tankers cap.) I was the freak of the week! Once upstairs, I found artists, Trish, Salome, Henning von Berg & Jon Campbell sitting at a corner table drinking champagne. I joined them for a while and as I was chatting with the gorgeous, talented and by the way incredibly sweet Jon Campbell, I mentioned I would be having a birthday soon, he said he would be as well and as it turns out, we are born on the same day! December 2nd. We totally bonded over that shit, yeah bitches Tennessee Claflin, Jon Campbell & Britney Spears. Can you say triple threat? Hylleaux, watch the fuck out kids! We were supposed to go graffiti tagging as a birthday activity, but nothing ever materialized. Oh well there is always next year. Anyway, I got really wasted that night and everything was fine and dandy until I started yelling at all the fancy rich people that were there and was politely asked to leave, hahaha aint nuttin new. That shit happens to me at least once a week in Berlin, I've seriously lost count of all the places that I've been kicked out of. I mean really, is it my fault that these people can't recognize glamour when it stares them in the face? I mean shit. Let me see now I'm trying to remember what other fierceness occurred during the month of November. Ahh oh yeah, my dearest, darling friend Snaxine performed at this one club called Berlin Hiltrons or something. Anydamnway, I went there with Travistine & Marischka J and lemme letcha know, shit was cunty! we went downstairs to the VIP room and were hanging out drinking beer. One of the little omnipresent, teenage, special friends that seem to trail Travis wherever he goes almost passed the fuck out when he saw Peaches sitting on the couch chatting with some dude. I marched up to their table and promptly handed Peaches a flyer. She said, "Ahhh, so your the boys who are doing PORK?" I said "Sho nuff hon, you really should come on down and check it out." That was the first time I had ever met her actually, but Snax is friends with her and I guess they have performed together a few times before. Later on when Snax went on stage, Mario and I pressed our way up to the the front to take some pics and I have to say, I was really amazed with his performance. That was the first time I had seen one of his performances and he puts on a smashing live show. I agreed with Mario when he said he that Snax is one of the most talented people he knows. I also met Snax's friend, film director, Matt Mayfield, who was in town from New York to direct Snax's new music video (which I posted below) Later that night, I was sitting hanging out with Travis when we met this Italian kid, who offered me some Ketamine. I hadn't done K in a really long time, not since I lived in NYC, but I was sort of tantalized by the prospect, (the last time I took K, I was sitting with my girl mAdam on the corner steps of Twilo, and um, I saw myself from outside my own damn body! HI!) So I agreed and he motioned for me to follow him downstairs to the toilets. I immediately snapped my fingers, rolled my eyes, and said "girlfriend please, I can't be damn bothered with bathroom queues." I pointed to the heavy velvet curtains the lined the club walls and said, "lets just go behind there." So behind the curtain we went. I did one line and then another even though he said one was probably enough, I said "honey, this aint my first rodeo, mmmkay?" I know, I know, nobody can resist my charms. As we emerged from the curtain, Travis shot me a knowing glance and I demanded that he give Travis some as well. What? I become a bossy little bitch when I get drunk. I don't play. When Travis came out, I screamed "pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." No one did. Travis told me he had also done two lines and we sat there asking eachother every five minutes, "do you feel anything? I don't feel anything, these drugs are jank." Blah blah blah, then WHAM, all of a sudden time became meaningless and I couldn't walk or talk or anything, hahaha we must have looked like such freaks, after stumbling around the club like a couple special needs children in search of the shortbus. Finally, Mario came to Travis' rescue and they took a cab home. No such luck came my way. At least not until the end of the night when Snax found me sitting on the dance floor with my ear up against the loud speaker, staring off into a blissed out trance. Thats right, bitches! Hardcore. He pulled me up, got me some water, and he and his friend Matt took me back to Snax's place in a taxi. By the time we got there I was pretty much back to normal. The three of us had a little slumber party, where we watched Paris Is Burning and one of my all time new favs, that Snaxette introduced me to that night "Fortune and Mens Eyes" a real gem of a flick. It comes very highly recommended, that is if your, um, into the queer, prison genre (which I really must say that I am!) A few days later was Thanksgiving, which is usually a pretty uneventful holiday for me, which kinda sucks cuz I love eating Thanksgiving dinner. So this year we decided we were going to go all out and celebrate with a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner at Travis and Mario's place. I was already wasted when I arrived around 9pm. I had bought one of those little vodka bottles at the kiosk in the U-bahn station and people were staring, shaking their heads as I attempted to poor the vodka into my bottle of sprite. Anyhomelessantics, when I arrived to Travis and Mario's place in Moabit I found a room full of fierce faggots. Thomasina von Cokey, Michelle Shade, Tillove & Arvidette, Snaxine & the very sexy and talented French artiste/father of my children, Christophe Chemin. That reminds me actually, I have to go and drop those little brats off at the pool, I'll be right back. Ahhh thats much better. Soothing relief! So where was I? Oh yes, Mario made us the most fabulous Thanksgiving dinner with everything you could imagine, I made everyone talk about what they are thankful for. (It was a damn tradition in the Claflin house.) They all ignored me for the most part, so instead we talked about art, music, steroids and film not necessarily in that order, Christophe made fun of me for not knowing shit about film and then went on about what a horrible filmmaker one of my good friends is (who shall remain nameless, albeit celebrated) I shuddered as Christophe glared at me with his beautifully diabolical eyes, so deeply piercing, you'd swear he could see the damn future. I couldn't decide whether I was scared to death or in damn love! Snaxette tried to ruin my damn dinner by dumping about a gallon of gravy all over my plate, I was about to cut a bitch. (she'll get hers!) Thomasina sat at the table, smugly reveling in her aloof cokeyness, while Tilo and Arvid made out, (oh to be twenty again.) I'm thinking that we should make this Thanksgiving dinner an annual event. I reckon It'd be the hottest ticket in town! In addition to turkey, we serve up a healthy helping of eclectic realness.

Yeah Yeah Yeah's - Soft Shock (MP3)

Yeah Yeah Yeah's - Hysteric (MP3)

SNAX - Don't Wanna Get Over (Directed by Matt Mayfield)

Sleeping Swans

Picasso Of The Streets

Pink Shade

Money Destroys Art

Wise Words

Bender Sunrise

Tim Leary Had It Wrong

Ti-Lo-Ve Has It Right

Pink Home

Riverside Relics

Twins Of Deception

Everyone's An Artist,

Especially In Berlin!

Sonic Youth

Snaxine Superstar

Neon Reflection

Tech Waste

No More Wars. No More Walls

Make Love, Not War

What Do You Want To Be, When You Grow Up?

Thomasina Von Cokey

Writings On The Berlin Wall

Original Sin = Original, What The Fuck?

Mythological Mascot

True Evil

It Was A Good Year

Thanks Berlin, For It All...

Loony Bin LIght

December 2nd was my birthday. I slept all day, and to be honest, I can't think of a better way to spend ones birthday. I'm twenty eight now and I feel old as fuck. The night before my birthday, Nathan called me at the stroke of midnight to wish me a happy birthday and told me that he was driving over to pick me up. He surprised me by picking up my three closest friends, Travis, Mario, and Michael and we went and got McDonalds takeout and then went to Art Bar and drank champagne and relished in life's little ironies. ;) (It sorta reminded me of when I lived in San Francisco and got a holiday job at Tsar Nicholai Caviar Company, answering the phone and taking holiday caviar orders from rich bitches all day long. The first week of the job I had no money at all, not even to eat. So I would take the bus to work every morning without eating breakfast and when I arrived to work starving, I'd be there sampling caviar all morning, hahaha.) My friends and I took turns reading poetry from one of the BLATT books, as we got more and more drunk. Nathan gave me, as a birthday gift, my favorite painting from Jeremiah Palecek's art show at STYX last September. It's a painting of a forest scene, with a man who has the head of Big Bird from Sesame Street, and there is also this weird purple pentagon thing off to the side, I couldn't believe he bought it for me. It was very generous of him. Before we knew it, we were all wasted and it was dawn. After a little cat nap, Nathan drove us all home. I would have to say that Decembers biggest and most significant event, was my moving into a new apartment the day after my birthday. I had been living on Kottbusser Damm near the Hermannplatz U-bahn station in the Neuköln district of Berlin, for the previous nine months, with a straight guy named Jan. At first things were great living there. I had a big spacious, sunny room on the top floor of the building and Jan stayed in the smaller side room, but after a couple months Jan was understandably eager to have more space, so he reduced my rent and I moved into the smaller room, which was frankly not much bigger than a closet. I didn't really mind all that much about the lack of space because I was getting quite a good deal on rent. However after living there for several months, other things began to wear on me. The apartment was filthy dirty and when I say dirty, I mean like health hazard dirty. I stopped using the kitchen all together because the moldy dishes would just pile up for weeks on end, with flies everywhere. I certainly wasn't about to clean up after him. So I would just retreat into my little closet whenever I was at home. I rarely ever saw Jan. I will never forget one of the few times that he did clean the pile of dishes. I went to take a bath and the entire tub was filled with dirty dishes that he was trying to soak so that he could scrape all the moldy crap off of them easier. I've never seen anything like it in my life. It was so foul. Now, I am by no means claiming to be a model example for clean living, but at a certain point, I have to draw the line. I, like most single bachelors throw my clothes on the floor and leave empty beer bottles in my room etc. But the way my old roommate lived was truly vomit inducing. Every once in a while I would have to go in there because I kept some of my clothes in one of his wardrobes and the smell was just overpowering. On his bed, where he slept every night, there was literally a nest of cigarette butts, empty beer and vodka bottles, take out bags, plates with moldy food and other such garbage. It was very um, different, to say the very least. But it's his apartment and he can live however he wishes. That was my attitude. Then came the straw that broke the camels back. One day, I went to do some laundry and when I opened the door to the washing machine, a stench so rancid and overpowering enveloped the entire room, that I almost passed the fuck out. Homeboy had left his wet laundry in the machine for what must have been more than a week! There was mold everywhere inside that machine. I put it through another wash cycle and then hung it for him. Then, I washed my own clothes and hung them out to dry. I noticed that they smelled a little funky, but I thought whatever, it will just go away in time, um, it didn't. My friends started to tell me that I reeked of mold. Like not just one friend, several of them. It was so embarrassing and I was so annoyed at that point, I said to myself, I have got to get the hell out of this dump. So I put an ad in my GR profile that I was looking for a room to rent. A couple of weeks later I got a response from a guy named Ralf who had just rented a flat in Kotbusser Tor in Kreuzberg. We met up for a drink and then went over to see the apartment. Ralf is originally from Munich, but had just moved back to Germany from London where he had just graduated in fashion design, from Central Saint Martins School of Design. We hit it off immediately and I decided to move into the apartment. Since there was still one more room available in the flat, I told Ralf about Pietro, the artist that I had met in Florence in October and I suggested that he should rent the other room to him. He agreed and we all moved in together the first week of December. I was so happy to be changing my living situation that it didn't really occur to me that the coal heating situation in our new apartment might take some serious getting used to. It was just a nice change to be living with other gay guys that were my own age. It was more of a family type situation than the previous flat, because we all got along and we would go out to art openings and parties together and I introduced them both to all my friends in Berlin. One night in the middle of December the three of us ventured down to Neuköln for a group show and performance at Rise Gallery. When we arrived, I ran into several people that I knew. For one the illustrious, mask clad, glamour artiste/PORK door man and dear friend of mine, Trish was there with celebrated artist friend, Salome. Sexy, artistic, multi-talents, Jon Campbell and Christophe Chemin were also in attendance. The show was pretty good for the most part, but I have to say that the most memorable part of the evening was standing on the table with Jon and Christophe, watching the performance of Jon (un autre corps) all I can say is that it involved a mirror, some bandaids and um, lots and lots of blood. It was definitely a sight to behold. Some of these Berlin artists are pretty fucking hardcore! Afterwards, being the broke down bitches that we are, Pietro, Ralf and I pressed it on over to the glamorous Ficken 3000 where the three of us got completely wasted with the owner Frank (my boss) for free. Frank is the man. He is definitely one of my favorite people in all of Berlin. A few nights later, I went to see one of my sistahs in crime, the one and only Snaxine. Homegirl played a gig at the old Hungarian embassy across from Alexanderplatz. It was very different from his last gig at NBI. It was very sultry and loungy, with Snax at the piano and for part of the performance, he gave up the mic to his fierce chanteuse partner, the awesome MIss Molly Nilsson. It was amazing. Snax is so incredibly talented. I am continually astounded with the talented fierceness that miss Snaxette brings to the table. Homegirl does not fuck around and Miss Molly Nilsson was pretty damn fierce in her own right. My little sister is named Molly too, so pretty much anyone with that name gets a gold star as far as I'm concerned, basically, I was a fan before she even went on stage.

PJ Harvey & John Parish - Black Hearted Love (MP3)

PJ Harvey - Teclo (MP3)

Knives Out

Yet Again, Austria Manages To Upstage Itself

No Stopping Us

Green With Envy

Hangin' Out @ Monsters

If Only We Could Attract This Calibre Of German Fierceness @ PORK

Pietro Needed A Muse

Surrounded By Talent

So Much More To Discover

Introspection

Bloody Art

RISE Opening

Tennessee & Ralf

Animated Wall

Snax & Molly

Digital Youthe

SHADES

Pietro Studies Travis

Surprise, Surprise!

Screaming Beast

The World Autographed My Face

Christmas Decorations, Kreuzberg Style

America Is Depressed

Gayface Is The New Punk

Rainbow Suicide

Throughout most of December, I was considering whether or not I should go back to Salt Lake, to attend my youngest sister Laura's wedding, or not. Her wedding date was scheduled for December 30th. Five days before Christmas, I still had not decided if I was going to go, or not. My mother said she would pay the flight for me, something that has almost never happened before. I also really wanted to go to New York to attend the Stephen Sprouse retrospective at Deitch Projects in January. I knew that if I passed on an opportunity to see that exhibition, it would be something that I would most definitely regret later. So I called my mom and told her I would come for the wedding and I arranged it so that on my return trip to Berlin, I would stop over in New York for five days, so that I could attend the opening party of Stephen's retrospective. I was nervous about going back to New York, mainly because that city carries with it a lot of memories of Stephen, that I wasn't sure if I was entirely ready to face yet. But I told myself that it has been nearly five years since he passed away and that it's about time that I should face up to it and move on with my life. So I arranged my flight so that I would stop in Paris on the way to America and New York on my way back to Berlin. I would leave Berlin on Christmas morning and spend about sixteen hours in Paris before boarding a direct flight from Paris to Salt Lake, early in the morning, on the day after Christmas. On Christmas Eve, Ralf had gone home to Munich, to be with his family for the holidays, so it was just me and Pietro in the apartment. We cooked dinner together and sat up drinking beer and talking. We really bonded that night and had a serious heart to heart. We were both very open with each other, sharing secrets and parts of our lives that both of us rarely ever talk about. In a way, it was very therapeutic, at least it was for me. We all have our faults, myself most certainly included, but Pietro is really such a sweet boy and I'm really glad that our paths crossed on that fateful October night in Florence. I woke up Christmas morning around 10 am and lugged all my bags over to the U-bahn at Kotbusser Tor. It was such a peaceful morning, bright, sunny and nearly desolate. Everyone had somewhere to be on Christmas morning, it seemed. Everyone except the lingering, junkie, straggler at the U-bahn entrance, who was attempting to sell me a brand new bicycle for twenty euros. Not a bad deal actually, as I thought about it, then I began to wonder who would be going without the new bike they asked Santa for. As the train pulled out of the station, the sun rays blinding me, suddenly I felt a sense of hesitation as if I were headed straight into the lions den. The notion, I would learn later, was almost prophetic. I dismissed it, trying to turn my thoughts elsewhere. Instead I thought about Paris. I hadn't been there since 2006 and I was really excited to go. I had arranged to stay with Andrew, one of my old Los Angeles buddies who is studying at the Sorbonne. It had been ages since I had seen him, so I was both nervous and excited. When we touched down in Paris, I was relieved to learn that both of my big bags were checked straight through to Salt Lake, so all I had to worry about was my little backpack and my laptop. I rode the train to Gar du Nord and rented a locker in the basement of the station. the only things that I kept with me were, sixty euros, my coat, camera and i-pod. It was already starting to get dark, so I decided to hold off on going to Andrews flat for a few hours and I just wandered around Paris taking pictures as fast as I could, before the darkness invaded the sky. I find Paris to be so inspiring. There is just something so special about Paris. I definitely want to spend a year or two living here at some point in my life. I rode the metro on the pink line towards Chatelet, and decided to get off at Pyramides, thinking that it sounded interesting. I asked someone on the street which way to the Seine. They were so friendly and told me exactly how to get there. So much for Parisians being rude. Who knows maybe it was just the mood Christmas brings? I walked for maybe five or ten minutes, until I reached this little park/gardens called the Tuileries. I stopped there and attempted to snap some shots of the Eiffel Tower, which was all lit up with purple lights that night. On the opposite end of the Tuileries gardens, there was the huge, I.M Pei designed, glass, Louvre Pyramid. Now, I knew where I was. I knew if I went there, I would be able to get my bearings and be able to navigate my way around central Paris, just from memory. As I walked toward the glass pyramid through the gardens, It occurred to me that this place was extremely cruisy. I spotted at least twenty men who were obviously there cruising. I laughed to myself thinking, how is it possible that in my first hour in Paris, I wander, unknowingly, directly into what seems to be the central gay cruising area of the city. As I approached the pyramid, I stopped to take some pictures and experiement a bit with the different settings on my camera (I have had the damn thing for coming on three years now and I still haven't mastered how to use it.) All of a sudden, I noticed a sexy, tall, swarthy, looking man eyeing me from afar. He kept following me around the grounds, as I photographed the Louvre from different angles. Every time I would glance over at him, he would grab at his crotch and lustfully stare at me. Hahaha, it was so damn obscene. I fucking loved it! I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sorta turned on by the situation. He was fucking hot. So I thought I'd tease him a little bit and I walked over to a part of the gardens where there is a sort of maze of tall hedges and we played cat and mouse for a little bit. After a while, it felt as if we were playing some sort of ridiculous, juvenile game, then I stopped and realized that that's exactly what we were doing. I laughed to myself and went over and sat down on one of the empty park benches. It wasn't long before he came over and sat down next to me. He looked to be in his late thirties, if I had to guess, he had a sort of weathered appearance. He definitely wasn't a rich man. Hell, let's face it, he was straight up rough trade. But sexy, masculine, Parisian, rough trade. He whispered something to me in french as he reached for my hand with his coarse, work worn, hand and gently lifted it to his lips to kiss. I was thought to myself, you've got to be kidding me. It was such a sweet gesture and so completely foreign to me. His name was Georges. He spoke to me softly in french with his, deep, sexy voice, caressing my hand gently as he led me through the labyrinth of manicured hedges to a stair well that led to what seemed like an old abandoned metro entrance, or perhaps some sort of underground storage area for the Tuilereies landscapers. He pulled me in close to him and kissed me hard and held me close to him, under a half struggle. I pulled away from him and stepped back, I wasn't sure if I was much into being arrested for a semi-public sexual encounter, in the center of Paris, on Christmas night. He pulled out his dick and started masterbating, as I stood there watching. After a minute, or so, he reached for my hand again and guided it to his erect penis. I noticed that his dick was nearly as rough as his calloused hands. At that point I wasn't so sure if I wanted our contact to get anymore intimate than it already had. Just then, I heard a noise and turned to see another man appraoching from the stairs. I quickly pulled my hand away as Georges stood there with his pants down. We were so busted. I laughed, as I walked away. As I approached the stairs, I turned to see Georges swat away the other mans hand, as he made an advance toward him. Georges hurriedly buckled his trousers and pursued me up the stairs and onto the street. He followed me around Paris for a good ten minutes, until finally, I sternly told him to leave me alone. There was still a slight hint of color in the sky and I wanted to take some pictures of the Seine and Notre Dame, before it got too dark. After I finished taking pictures at the river, I made my way east toward Le Marais (the gay area of Paris) I photographed a few churches along the way, as well as, one of my favorite modern art museums in the world, the Centre Pompidou. Once I reached the Marais, I ran into a group of the glamorous sisters of perpetual indulgence (gay nuns), on the street. I stopped and chatted with them for a bit and posed for a picture with them, before slinking into one of the districts many gay bars. I sat at the bar, had a few drinks and chatted with one of the bar tenders, who was American. He let me use his mobile phone to call Andrew. Andrew was having a little Christmas party at his flat, with his boyfriend and a small group of friends, from his school. By that time, it was about 8:00pm and I told Andrew, I was at a bar in Le Marais and would come over to his place around 10pm. For the next two hours, I went on a crazy bar crawl, with a couple of fabulous queens, that I met on the street that night. We really drunk and I was having such a good time, that I almost lost track of time. I said my goodbyes and jumped on the Metro to the Pyrenees station, where Andrews flat was located. When I arrived to his flat, there was about five people there hanging out, drinking wine and smoking weed. His friends seemed cool but it had been so long since I had seen Andrew that I was more focused on catching up with him and reminiscing about our crazy club kid days together in Hollywood. We called our friend Nina, whom I hadn't spoken to in years. It was really nice to hear her voice and it was such a nice night. Andrew looks as cute as he ever did and seems to be really happy in Paris. We went to bed around 1am because I had to be up by 6am for my flight. I was kicking myself the next morning, on the train to Charles de Gaule, for forgetting to take any pictures of my adorable friend Andrew. Oh well, he said he wants to come visit me in Berlin, so I'll have to remember to get some pictures of him next time I see him.

Ladyhawke - Paris Is Burning (Alex Gopher Remix)(MP3)

Friendly Fires - Paris (Aeroplane Remix)(MP3)

City Of Lavender & Light

Parisian Church

Eiffel Tower

Centre Pompidou

Louvre Pyramid

Pompidou Installation

Red Light Bar

Tennessee & The Sisters

Hot, Hot, Heat!

Church By Night

Car Tripod

Handicap Accessible

Terminal Sunrise

The flight from Paris to Salt Lake was fucking brutal. It was crowded and long as hell. I remember when I was younger, I used to love flying, I found it so thrilling to stare out the window at everything, trying to figure out where we were, from the geographical features below. Now, I'm so over it. Whenever I fly now, I just can't wait for it to be over, from the minute I arrive at the airport, until the second we land. Maybe it's just that it has become so tedious in this post 9-11 world, or perhaps, I'm just getting old. Either way, I can't be damn bothered. I need a fleet of private jets equipped with a masseur, a damn chef and plenty of booze;) Anydamnway, When I got to Salt Lake, as usual, I was bored out of my mind within about twenty minutes. It was nice to see my mom, dad, brother and sisters, but It seems as the years go on, we grow further and further apart from each other. most of my siblings are married now and have children and families of their own, so I think it must be quite difficult for them to relate to my relatively unconventional lifestyle. We still love each other, but there has most certainly developed between us, a rather pronounced distance. This is one of the reasons why, I was somewhat hesitant to come back for the wedding in the first place. I guess I feel a bit out of my element, surrounding myself with a crowd of people who's guiding force in life is a religion that I know all to well holds nothing but contempt and hostility for my lifestyle. All the same, I chose to put on a brave face and attend the wedding, even though I am considered "unworthy" to even attend the actual wedding and was resigned to waiting outside the Salt Lake temple, until my sister and her new groom emerged to take pictures on the grounds. We showed up to the temple about an hour before the ceremony/ritual was scheduled to finish. So having about an hour to kill, I slipped away and slinked into the nearest gay bar, The glamourous, Radio City Lounge and had a couple beers. The afternoon scene there was a mash up of homeless types, loitering junkies and old queers, nursing their beers. Even though I was wearing a suit and tie, I felt right so comfortable amongst the sleazy seventies decor. I went over to the juke box, selected some fleetwood mac, then sat at the bar and chatted with a fierce Navajo tranny, who was there waiting for her dealer. It was all sorts of classy realness and I felt right at damn home. I spent about an hour there, almost losing track of time before I had to head back to the temple grounds. I arrived just as they were coming out and one of my brother-in-laws gave me a video camera to film the whole thing. I was thankful to have something to do rather than stand there, awkwardly, waiting to take group pictures. After filming for a while, I chatted a bit with some of my cousins and other extended family, and then posed for some family photos, and that was it. A few hours later was the wedding dinner. where I ran into several old neighbors and church acquaintances, many of whom I hadn't seen since I was fifteen. It was quite amusing watching as they struggled to conceal their thinly veiled disdain for me. Needless to say I was quite relieved when it was all over. I rushed home after to throw together a playlist for a DJ gig, I was booked for later on that night. One of my Salt Lake friends who I met while I spent a few months here last winter, is a club promoter named Justin Strange. I had let Justin know that I was coming about a week in advance, so he booked me to guest DJ at his weekly club night, "Gutter Butter", at a club downtown called The Trapp Door. I drove over there around 10 pm. It was really good to hang out and play records with Justin again, he's a really cool guy. I hadn't seen him since Sundance 2008 when we met up with Bruce LaBruce for the premiere and after party of Bruce's new zombie flick, Otto, or up with dead people. We had a boozy dance-a-thon at Gutter Butter that night. I always have fun DJ'ing with Justin. He is quite the popular man about town in SLC. I keep telling him he needs to come to Berlin and Guest DJ for us at PORK. After the party, I downed about three big glasses of water and drove home, dropping Justin off at his place, on the way. It was a fun way to cap an otherwise stressful day. The following day was New Years Eve I woke up late and spent most of the day with my laptop, laying on the couch, watching trashy American daytime television. Glamourous, fierceness, such as Maury, Tyra and Judge Judy were on the agenda for that day. I was also simultaneously chatting with some local faggots online. I started chatting with Corey, this stoner dude, that I had met while I was visiting last year. We decided to hangout, smoke a little herb and have some red wine. He came and picked me up and we went back to his house. Come to find out, Corey's roommate is this queen Jason who I used to hang out with back when I was like seventeen. I knew him when I first started hanging out with other gay men. There was never anything sexual between us, we were just lady friends, she sorta took me under her wing and we would do glamourous ladylike things, such as going to get facials, and shopping for used designer duds, at local consignment shops. We'd talk about fashion, exchange beauty tips, paint each others nails, you know girl stuff, hahaha. Jason was actually the first real queen, I ever hung out with. She sorta taught me the ropes. Anyway, it was so fun seeing them both again. We had a fabulous, banjee queen realness, reunion. It was actually a lot of fun. Both Corey and Jason are the epitome of the "radical faerie," totally unique, and independent, with an amazing eclectic style. Problem was, Jason gave me some kind of pain pills (actually, I probably demanded them.) Mesh that with two bottles of red wine, between the three of us and several bowls of the chronic and you have the perfect recipe for disaster. After a certain point. I don't remember much, all I know is that I definitely had one of my, um "episodes," and that's never a cute look. Trust. Long story short, Corey drove me home and I was asleep in my bed before the ball dropped. There is something about Salt Lake that just really brings out the crazy in me. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's definitely a bit of a problem, as you will soon learn. The next few days were rather uneventful. The wedding reception was oddly scheduled for January 5th, five days after the actual wedding. While my mom and sisters were busy making preparations for the reception, I was busy making preparations for my five day stopover in New York, trying to arrange which friends I was going to stay with and what different parties were going on while I was going to be in town. Everything was all in order and my flight to New York was set to leave early in the morning on January 8th. I was really excited to go to New York. Although I was nervous about the Sprouse opening, I was definitely more excited. In the days leading up to Laura's wedding reception, I was getting a bit weary of staying at my parents house. It was quite a full house, with my oldest sister, Sarah, her husband Perry and their three young children staying there too. Out of all my five siblings, there has always been the most tension with Sarah. She is by far the most religious sibling of mine and therefore the most self-riteous and judgemental. In recent years the tension as only gotten worse, especially since she got married. I actually really liked her husband Perry, while they were dating in college. But then something happened after they were married. Perry opted out of graduating from a regular college, and instead pursued a career in the Army. Ever since he went through his Army basic training, he changed. He adopted this absurd machismo persona. It's like he's trying to be this big macho tough guy. It's actually sort of laughable because it seems so forced. He used to have a great sense of humor, whereas now he is a lot more serious. Anyway, the army is one thing, but things definitely took a turn for the worse, when he started working for the NSA (National Security Agency) probably one of the shadiest, government/military agencies in the entire world. Think Adolf Hitlers SS or the East German Stasi and you're on the right track. Totally unconstitutional, these are the guys who are spying on regular Americans, wiretapping your phones, keeping files on people, and reading you're emails. Basically their specialty is infringing on our civil liberties, on a daily basis. The saddest part is that Perry actually believes that he he doing a service to the country. When in reality he is part of the problem, a mere pawn who is simply being used by a handful of powerful, evil men who are all to aware of the sinister agenda that they are bringing forth into our world. All the while, their minions remain oblivious. What Perry doesn't realize, is that he is just as much a terrorist as the common Palestinian freedom fighter on the streets of Gaza, the only difference is that he doesn't really have a clue as to what he's fighting for. Now, I am a very outspoken person and I also have very passionate political views, I think that is probably quite obvious by now. Anyone who knows me is acutely aware of this. So when put in a situation where I am living under the same roof as someone like Perry, there are bound to be some clashes, and believe me, clashes, there most certainly were. Not necessarily one on one with Perry, but in a more group like setting. For example, one night while sitting around the dinner table, The conversation turned to Proposition 8 in California. I explained to my family of Mormons, that I thought it was absolutely inappropriate the way the Mormon church donated millions upon millions of dollars in support of a ban on gay marriage in California. I explained that in addition to violating a separation between church and state, through their preaching politics from the pulpit, it was also a very bad public relations move on the part of the church, because of the amount of anger and resentment that so many people now feel toward the Mormon church, as a direct result of the churches actions, with regard to Proposition 8. I also said that, if the church wants to concern itself with politics, then it should be willing to give up it's tax exempt status. Glancing over at Perry, I noticed he could hardly hide his contempt for me and what I was saying, but I didn't care. Let the teacher teach. Thats my attitude ;) So that pretty much sums up the backstory between Perry and I. Basically there has been tension between us for years, Once several years ago he even attacked me, totally unprovoked during an argument I was having with my parents, that didn't even concern him. Basically, he is a hot head, who really just needs to chill the fuck out and educate himself. So on the day of my little sister Laura's wedding reception, I was having some anxiety about a lot of things. I was nervous about going to the reception. I was nervous about going to the opening in New York and I was just generally not having the best day. So I called my doctor and asked if she would prescribe me some anxiety medication, just for the reception and also to take with me to New York. Big mistake. Huge mistake. To make things worse I had a couple drinks in the hour or two before the reception that night. Just for future reference. I don't advise ever mixing Ativan with alcohol. Bad things happen. I went to the wedding reception and stayed for about an hour. I was completely wasted and finally my mom came up to me and said, I think you should go home to bed, So my brother drove me home and after that I have very hazy memories of what happened next. Sarah was home and was trying to put her kids to bed and for some reason I decided I needed to look for something in the closet of the room where they were sleeping. It was a coat that I wanted to bring back to Berlin with me. It definitely could have waited until the next morning and I'll be the first to admit that I was probably being quite obnoxious. Obnoxious, yes, but definitely not violent. Anyway the next thing I remember is Perry attacking me and pushing me up against the wall. At that point, I punched him hard in the nose, giving him a bloody nose. Yes I was drunk and I was at fault in that sense, but it was Perry who escalated things into a violent situation. I was just defending myself as anyone would. The next thing I know Im being held down to the ground, struggling to get up. I heard Perry yell at my sister to call the police. Now I didn't mention before that about five years ago I had gotten pulled over for drunk driving after leaving a bar while visiting Salt Lake. I never received anything from the courts about a date to appear, so I just left for Istanbul, where I had a job teaching english at the time. Then finally, only a few months previously during the fall of 2008 my mom emailed me saying that a letter finally came in the mail for me, saying there was a warrant for my arrest, because of the drunk driving offence from way back in 2004. So I knew that I had a warrant and I was worried about getting pulled over by the cops because I knew if I was, then I would go straight to jail. Perry and Sarah knew this as well, so they called the police knowing full well that regardless of who started the fight, I would be going to Jail because I had a warrant. So when I saw my sister calling the cops, my initial reaction was to run away, in order to avoid arrest. So I ran into the backyard, but I was so drunk that i just stayed there for a few minutes and then stumbled back into the house. The police were there. When they saw how intoxicated I was, without any questions asked, they placed me under arrest. I woke up face down in a holding cell at the Salt Lake County Jail trying to piece together how I had ended up there. As I remembered the events of the previous night. I was absolutely livid. Livid, not only at myself for getting drunk and making a complete fool of myself and embarrassing my family at the reception, but even more angry at Perry for attacking me, when I did nothing to provoke it. Being obnoxiously drunk and being a violent drunk are two very different things and I was certain that I was guilty of former and not the latter. Even the police report confirmed that Perry was the one who instigated the violence. I was booked into Jail on Monday night and didn't see the judge until Wednesday morning. When the judge looked at my file and saw that I had no previous criminal record (at least in Utah ;) he immediately granted me a pre-trial release from Jail. I was set free two hours later. I was so relieved, because I still had barely enough time to catch my flight to New York for the opening of the Sprouse retrospective. Something I had been looking forward to for months. Now, here is where shit gets really fucked up. My old boss Lynn was waiting for me when I walked outside, and she drove me to my parents house, where I immediately started packing my bags to catch my flight to New York. I was out of jail for less than two hours, when I was talking to my dad in the living room and I saw three police officers walking up our front walk. My dad let them in and they immediately rearrested me, saying that they didn't know that I was living in Germany. I found out only later that my own parents had called the Prosecutor, told her that I was a flight risk and suggested that I should go back to jail. They did this knowing full well how important it was to me to attend Stephen's opening. Now, I know I have made my mistakes in the past but I don't care what anybody says, Nothing and I mean nothing will ever excuse what my parents did to me that day. regardless of their reasons. They said they did it so that I would get help for alcohol abuse. Now I will be the first to admit that I have my issues with alcohol, but I am also an adult and they need to understand that only me and me alone has the power to address that issue. Not even to mention the fact that they just need to stay the fuck out of my legal business, period. I was so angry, I was sure that I would never speak to either of them ever again. They have just fucked me over one too many times in my life and they know it. My lawyer was in absolute shock at what they had done. She couldn't believe it. I spent another six days behind bars even missing my flight back to Berlin from New York. Now i have been to jail before, but never for 9 days. I was a miserable experience that I never, ever want to repeat. I had a lot of time to think, read, and write. Below are some excerpts of my journal entries, that I wrote while I was locked up. I thought I'd include some of them to lighten things up a bit. Some of them are pretty funny ;)

01-09-09

This morning I had the joyous experience of waking up in a six by twelve foot holding cell, in Salt Lake's illustrious county jail. About eight of us snoozed in slumber, virtually on top of each other. Myself, being the youngest and smallest of the bunch, was forced to catch my z's next to the toilet. There is nothing quite like waking up to a 300 pound Mexican's urine splashing onto your legs. The same hombre, whom, all night, was ripping the loudest and most rancid farts that my senses have ever experienced. I gotta tell ya, it was the lap of luxury. I simply couldn't refrain from murmuring to myself, "aint it great to be alive?" In reality it was probably one of the only brief moments in my life, where I honestly and sincerely wished I was dead. If I had had a gun, I would have held it to my head and pulled the damn trigger. I was in such a state that I wouldn't even have been able to muster up the compassion to put the others out of their misery as well! oh no, no, no... I was in no mood! At the stroke of 6am our breakfast was brought in to us by a charming, toothless bulldyke named Trixie, (swear to damn God) Trixie. Our homegirl Trixie spat copiously as she barked out our orders to rise. We dined on an ever so elegant concoction, which can most aptly be described as gruel. There was also a shriveled corpse penis-like sausage on the menu as well, however I simply didn't feel worthy enough to sample that rare delicacy. Baker, my homely but kind, closeted homosexual, cellmate was just replaced by another inmate. All I've gathered so far is that his name is Dave.

01-10-09

I can't fucking sleep in this blasted fucking shithole. Insomnia has never before felt so tediously miserable. My singular consolation in here is the pathetic collection of books, ninety percent of which are third grade level and I do not exaggerate. I read "Breakfast At Tiffany's" by Truman Capote the first couple days and I'm reading a book right now called "The Glass Castle" by Jeanette Walls and it's actually quite good, a very entertaining memoir. I have no idea what I'm gonna read next though, it's slim pickings. It's either "Lord Of The Flys" which I read when I was ten, The Bible, or The Quran (shudder.) Hopefully someone will return some new titles to the book box soon, otherwise I'll have to resign myself to staring at the ceiling. Actually today I had an interesting discussion with my cellmate Dave. We talked mostly about politics and religion. I have never been one to shy away from controversy and some of these Utahns need to hear a different perspective for a change. This morning, while walking laps around the pod, I fell in damn love. The object of my affection, a huge monster of a thug, with chiseled features and covered from head to toe in prison ink. (don't judge!) He was sexy as hell and besides, it's always smart to seek out protection, when your the skinniest queer in the clink. Well apparently I wasn't the only one who had my eye on the prize. Out of nowhere some young little twink boy started doing laps with my boyfriend and lemme letcha know, I was seeing red! I was about to cut a bitch. How dare this little skank try and jump up on my play. Bitch needs to find her own prison trade. She'd better watch her p's and damn q's if she know what be good for her. Hahaha this place is making me so fucking ghetto, I swear.

01-11-09

I have been having the weirdest, coolest dreams since I've been in here. For the last two nights, I have been dreaming about Paris. All of my dreams at night have been set there and they are so vivid. I'm starting to think that Paris might have a place in my future, maybe in 2010. As soon as I get all this shit here behind me, I'm going straight back to Europe and never looking back. The only real thing in my life, attaching me to this land is my family, but now I'm beginning to realize that they will probably never understand, or accept me for who I am. I miss all my friends in Berlin. It's so strange to finally feel like I've made a home for myself there and now to have it ripped away from me in a single incident is incredibly frustrating and disappointing. I have been incarcerated here for an entire week now and I'm starting to get used to the food which is so shocking because it's so fucking horrible. The guards too are so horrible. They are such assholes. What kind of person is lured by a career where all you do all day is yell at, and boss people around who hate you. If you ask me, most people who are attracted to careers as cops or prison guards, do so in order to satisfy some pathetic power trip. Most of them are total control freaks. Last night they woke us all up at 1am to change our bedding and jumpsuits. While we are changing, they search our cells for contraband. I wasn't really aware of procedure and so when I was done changing, I walked back into my cell, while the guard was doing a search. I soon learned that entering the cell during a search is striclty forbidden. The ugliest, meanest, dyke I have ever laid eyes on, was searching our cell. When I entered she literally threw me out, screaming at me to get the fuck out, with her screeching trailer trash, twang. I was in such shock as I began to wonder what had happened to her as a child to make her such a miserably rude individual. I wisely kept my mouth shut and refrained from asking her. Today I watched the local morning news. The leading stories of the day; Two separate stories centered around child molestation, child brides and polygamous mormon sects, A proposed three dollar tax on cigarettes, the nations sinking economy and terror, terror, terror... GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF THIS JAIL, THIS BLEAK ASS STATE AND THIS FASCIST FUCKING COUNTRY!

Finally after nine days in the slammer, they called me in the morning, telling me I had court that day. I leapt out of bed and dressed excitedly. Here was my chance to finally go before the judge and possibly get the fuck out of there. They chained me up, as if I were a violent serial killer and put me in the back of a van for the drive downtown to the courthouse. I sat in a holding cell until my lawyer came in to talk to me. She told me that the charges against me were a complete injustice and that she was quite confident that she could get me acquited on all of the charges. I was so relieved. As I was escorted into the court room, I saw my parents sitting in the audience. The sight of them disgusted me. My lawyer had advised me to plead not guilty on all counts, so that's what I did. My lawyer seemed a little bit shaky and inarticulate while making her case to the judge. I only found out later that my lawyer was an intern, not even a real lawyer yet. This, I suppose is what they call justice in a capitalist system. The Judge basically threw the book at me, giving me no pre-trial release, and only reducing my bail by 5,000$ and setting it at 10,000$ cash, no bond. Then the fugly spinster said that I must remain in jail until the trial was completed, which could be a month or two. Yeah, two months for a first offence. Welcome to the fascist theocracy, known as Utah. As they were leading me out of the courtroom, I began to ask myself if it was really worth spending that much more time locked up, just to uphold a principle. Immediately, I decided that it wasn't and I turned to my lawyer and asked her if it was too late to change my plea. She said that it wasn't too late and so we went back to he judge and she accepted a guilty plea on all counts. My lawyer said that she would immediately file an appeal. I was taken back to Jail and released an hour later. I took the train home and began packing my bags again. When my parents got home, things got very heated. I was so angry with them and things became very emotional. I just feel like I have been let down so many times by them. From the time my mother told me she would rather me be dead than gay, to the time they kicked me out of the house, when I was 17 and still in high school and onto the streets, telling me "you can't live here and continue living this sinful lifestyle, we don't want our other children to think that we condone it." Then trying to do the back pedal several months later, after learning that I was hustling, in order to survive, on the streets on Los Angeles. Ironically, sometimes, I have felt that it is I who better emulates the Christ figure that they worship, if only for the sheer number of times that I have shown them forgiveness, even when my closest friends remain baffled as to why I even still speak to them. Sometimes, I do have to ask myself, why I love them so much? Why I put up with so much from them? So on the day that I was released from jail I sat down with them and said that if they wanted to be a part of my life in any way at all in the future, then they would need to stop denying, and own up to a few certain, but pivotal mistakes that they have made in the past and for once try to understand how those mistakes have dramatically influenced the course of my life. After a couple of hours, finally, they did. I also demanded that they buy me a new ticket back home to Berlin, due to the fact that, it was they, who called the police a second time and caused me to miss my original flight home. They booked me a flight to Berlin, scheduled to leave a week later and apologized for everything. It was really nice to see them finally see things from my perspective for a change. It has certainly been a long time coming. I am by no means under the delusion that I am completely guiltless. I am responsible for my own life and like anyone, I have my issues, one of them is definitely alcohol. it tends to get me into trouble. I am very much aware of this, but I am also aware that I am the only person who can address this issue, in order to effect change. As emotionally draining as the entire ordeal was, I was just happy to know that in a weeks time, I would be back home in Berlin. That week happened to be the last week of the Sundance Film Festival, so I decided I would try and catch a couple screenings and maybe even write some reviews. I didn't know anyone presenting films at the festival this year, so I wasn't really clued in as much, with regard to events and parties as I have been in the past. I didn't really care though, because I had been sober already for almost two weeks and I wasn't quite ready to leap off that wagon just yet. I went online and browsed the films that were screening down in Salt Lake that week and wrote down the show times of a few that looked interesting. One in particular, I knew I had to see. It's a gay prison film starring Jim Carey and Ewan McGregor as lovers. I remember when I was living in Portland back in 2007, I went to see the film "Factory Girl" with my friend Gus, who is a filmmaker. He had just finished editing his film "Paranoid Park" and after watching the film, I remember asking him, at the coffee shop next to the theater, what he was going to do for his next project and he told me that there was a gay prison script floating around, that Jim Carey was attached to. He said it sounded really funny and we discussed who he would cast as Jim Carey's lover, I think I suggested Ryan Gosling (if only, because I'm in damn love with him) and Gus thought Hayden Christensen would be good in the role. I told Gus, that I thought Hayden did OK playing the Bob Dylan role in "Factory Girl", but wasn't sure if I could see him as Jim Carey's prison bitch! Anyway, it didn't matter cuz Gus ended up doing the Harvey Milk script, that, fellow Mormon born, Lance Black penned and just won an Oscar for. As it turns out the gay prison script ended up in the hands of the feature, debut, director duo, Glenn Ficarra & John Requa. The title of the film ended up being "I Love You Philip Morris" and it is one of the funniest and most entertaining films that I've seen in a very long time. Basically the film is about Steve Russel, played by Jim Carey, a recently out and proud, ex police officer, turned con-man. After coming out and divorcing his wife, he moves to Miami Beach where he soon learns that the "gay lifestyle", ie driving nice cars, wearing designer clothing and jewelry, eating at fancy restaurants and generally just being fabulous, is quite expensive. So he turns to credit card fraud and other such cons in order to bankroll everything. It confronts the superficiality and materialistic aspects that all too often, seem to be associated with the gay stereotype. In one scene his naive Jesus loving, ex-wife, whom he remains very friendly with, asks Steve, "So help me understand, does stealing and the whole gay thing sorta like go hand in hand?" After finally getting caught by the police and landing himself in and out of jail (through several escapes and attempted escapes) he finally meets the love of his life, Philip Morris (Ewan McGregor) in the prison library. Steve continues his conning ways, somehow finding a way to get him and his new lover assigned as cellmates. In one scene they are in their cell at night and one of the other inmates a few cells down is screaming bloody murder night after night, all night long, the next day, the screaming inmate is beaten badly, by a gang of thugs (he stopped screaming during the night after that) When Philip confronts Steve about the beating, asking, sternly, "did you pay to have that man beat up?" When Steve sheepishly admits that he did, Philip exclaims, "I can't believe you did that? That is absolutely the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me." The theatre erupted in uproarious laughter. I won't give away anymore of the movie, other than to say that it is absolutely hilarious. It sort of reminded me a little bit of the film "Catch Me If You Can" with Leonardo DiCaprio except for way gayer and way funnier. The cinematographer, Xavier Perez Grobet did an excellent job as well, as the costume designer, Davis C. Robinson. The aestetics were great, the film was well cast and hysterically entertaining. As I left the packed theater, my thoughts drifted back to a certain similar character from my past. I didn't know him well, just from going out to night clubs in New York. I was out at a club called Limelight one night with some friends, when we met these two older gentlemenz in their forties, who gave off a very conspicuous, pedo, predator, vibe. (One of them was always with this little latin kid, who, i swear. couldn't have been much older then fourteen.) They both had southern accents and flaunted money, drinks, drugs around like crazy. Everytime we ran into them, they would give us, k, e, or coke and try and lure us back to their hotel rooms, unsuccessfully I might add. After a while they sort of disappeared and we never saw them out anymore. Then about a year or so later, I was visiting Los Angeles with my friend Adam and we were at some club hanging out, when some creepy old man came up from behind us and said "Hey little boys, do you want some candy?" I turned around to see one of the Limelight peds standing there, wearing the creepiest most lecherous expression on his face and holding out some ecstasy pills. We immediately snatched the pills away and swallowed them down without a second damn thought. He told me that he was living in L.A. now and when I asked where his other friend was, he told me, that he was shocked to learn that his friend was in prison. As it turned out, his friend was this famous, armed bank robber, who was wanted in several states and was finally caught by the FBI. I was so shocked because I had partied with this guy several times. I guess it just goes to show that you never really know people. That guy who bought you a drink at the bar the other night, could be a murderer or a rapist. You just never really know.

La Roux - I'm Not Your Toy (MP3)

No Doubt - It's My Life (MP3)

Fleetwood Mac - Never Forget (Cut Copy Lifelike Mix)(MP3)

Deseret Wilderness

Masonic Lodge

Baby Factory Inc.

Laura & Ben Hunter

Silver Lining

Oh Hell No

Street Fog

Beam On Salta

Tennessee Life

Self Portrait 2009

Clouds

When I booked my flight back to Berlin from Salt Lake, I arranged it so that I would have a five hour layover at JFK. It gave me just enough time to take the train into Manhattan from the airport, and go down to the Deitch Projects in SoHo to see the Stephen Sprouse retrospective. I had not set foot in Manhattan since Stephen and I left the city for Buenos Aires five years ago, where we spent the last couple months of his life together. I guess I have been sort of avoiding going back to New York in an attempt to avoid bitter-sweet memories. As I rode the train into the city and emerged from the subway, onto the streets of SoHo, finally walking the streets of New York again. Strangely, I felt nothing. I don't know what I expected, but there were no big changes, at least on the surface. The city looked and felt the same as it did when I left. It felt almost as if no time had passed at all. I remember back in 2006 when I went to London for the first time in four years, the city felt different, it felt changed somehow. I didn't get that sense in New York at all. Although I'm sure if I had stayed there for a week and had a chance to go out on the party scene, I would probably notice some changes. I made my way to Deitch Projects in the brisk February air. A feeling of pride began to swell inside me as I approached the gallery and saw the big day-glo, Sprouse sign in the front. It was a Saturday afternoon, so there were quite a few people there viewing the exhibition. It was absolutely wonderful. The show was curated by Stephen's longtime assistant Jamie Boud and he did an amazing job in capturing the Sprouse aesthetic. He was certainly the best person suited for the task. The ground floor was dedicated to Stephen's fashion design, a room full of mannequins modeling some of his most famous looks, with his paintings interspersed on the walls in the background. The downstairs floor was darkened and lit only with black lights. Fashion sketches, drawn in day-glo colors lined one wall, while the opposite wall was lined with some of his paintings, which were also painted using day-glo colors. The room gave off a brilliant luminescent essence, that was incredibly striking. The upper floor showcased a wall of Stephen's Polaroid collection from the 80's, It was so cool to see old candid shots of Stephen and his friends, who included, Debbie Harry, Keith Harring, Paige Powell, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Tama Janowitz, Teri Toye, Steven Meisel, Andy Warhol and Patti Smith. There were also stacked up T.V.'s, all painted silver (one of his favorite colors) showing old video footage of him working, his fashion shows, old interviews, and T.V. static. (his favorite T.V. show;) There were also samples of some of the furniture he designed for Knoll and a few pieces from his 2001 Louis Vuitton collection. Marc Jacobs is actually doing a Sprouse inspired collection for Louis Vuitton Spring/Summer 2009, in conjunction with both the Deitch retrospective and The release of The Stephen Sprouse Book by Mauricio Padilha and Roger Padilha, and it looks absolutely amazing. I suspect Marc may have put the stacks of drawings and sketches that Stephen told me he had left at the Vuitton design studio in Paris, to good use. Either way, Marc's new collection for Louis Vuitton is fucking fierce and I'm just glad to see Stephen's genius being showcased to the world again, regardless of who is profiting from it. Although I missed the openings and parties for the collection, book and retrospective, due to my parents calling the cops and telling them to rearrest me because "I was a flight risk", I wouldn't have missed seeing this retrospective for the world. Stephen had been planning this collaboration with Jeffery Deitch since long before he passed away. I'm just so glad that I was able to go and see it. Stephen was the love of my life and is still such an inspiration for me both personally and artistically. He taught me so much. There isn't a day that goes by, where I don't think about him. I still miss him very much. But at the same time, it has been five years now since his death and I think that it is time for me to let him go and move on with my life. I need to look toward the future now, instead of clinging to the past. I know Stephen would want that for me. He was all about the future. The future, outer space, and rock 'n' roll! I left the gallery with a huge smile on my face. I was so proud of him. I had about one more hour before I would have to head back to the airport, to catch my flight back to Berlin. I walked around SoHo and the Lower East Side, taking some photos, then I rode the N/R uptown to my old apartment building, all the same doormen were still there and they were so shocked to see me after so long. From there, I walked back to Penn Station and took the train back to JFK. As I sat in the terminal, waiting for my flight, thinking about New York and Stephen and everything that I have been through on this ill fated trip to America, I began to look toward the future and everything that I had coming up for that month, Performances at PORK to worry about, my DJ gigs, The Berlin Film Festival and my performance on February 21st at the HAU festival; 100° Berlin, which I still wasn't yet sure what I was going to do. So I decided that in conjunction with all the other events paying tribute to Stephen. I decided that I would both draw inspiration from Stephen and dedicate my performance to him as well, in an attempt to, after five years, finally, perhaps capture some closure.

Röyksopp - The Girl And The Robot (feat. Robyn)(MP3)

Fever Ray - Seven (MP3)

NYC POP

Sprouse @ Deitch

SoHo Stoop

Punk Meets Prep

E M P I R E

Graffiti Silhouette

Stephen Star Trek

Heart Of Glass

T.V. Stripes

Iggy Pop On The Cross

2053

Warhol Dress

Radical Patty

POP Basquiat

80's Mod

Sid Vicious Holds Crotch

Timeless Fashion

S P R O U S E

Mini Iggy Pop

Sprouse For Louis Vuitton

Static Rose

Less Is More

The Work Of A Genius

Calvin Klein's Circular Bedroom

The Glamourous Princess Georgina

Polaroid Wall

I arrived back to Berlin on Sunday January 25th. I had spent an entire month in the Fascist States of America and words cannot even explain how happy I was to be back home in Berlin. When I arrived back to my apartment, both my roommates were still asleep. I wasn't particularly tired but I knew if I stayed awake, I would be exhausted later on that night and I had to work that night. We had flown No Bra in from London to perform at PORK that night, so I needed to be good and rested, so I took a sleeping pill and slept for another eight hours. I woke up around eight and chatted a bit with my Pietro and Ralf. Then I went and ate dinner and started working on my set list for that night. I headed over to the club for sound check around 9:30 where Travis, Mario, and Susanne Oberbeck aka No Bra were waiting. Susanne is a friend of Travis' and is really sweet, strangely soft spoken and shy for an artist who seems so unabashed when on stage. A lot of people came out that night to see her perform, even though we charged more than double what we usually do for the cover, the place was packed wall to wall. Her performance was amazing and the audience didn't want to let her get off the stage. They were begging for "just one more." After the show, I started my set and couldn't keep myself off the dance floor. I'm sort of an, um, unorthodox dj. Actually, I wouldn't really even call what I do dj'ing. It's really more music selecting ;) I'm a music selector! Often times, I don't even mix the tracks together. I'll either use my I-pod or straight from my laptop on I-tunes. Some people might find it annoying or unprofessional, but I really don't give a fuck. If I really knew what I was doing and had the proper equipment, knew how to beat match, etc, then I would take the mixing a bit more seriously, but I really can't be damn bothered. Besides I like to spend half of the time on the dance floor. I just like to hear good music, period. Sometimes I don't even pick a new song until ten seconds before the other one ends, hahaha what? don't hate, bitches! I have to say though, that all the other DJ's who play at PORK are much more skilled than me, so we're not 100% ghetto, we are however 100% fabulous, and don't any of ya'll forget it! Sometimes it pays to know what the fuck you're doing though, as I learned about a week later. I had been booked for a couple of months to DJ a night at Tom's Bar in Schoeneberg. When I got there we were missing wires and shit and I couldn't figure out how to use their mixer. It was really not so fierce, but finally we got it figured out. Then later on they were complaining about the sound quality, I was like ya'll are just dumb. Shut the fuck up. Luckily for me, right then, my lovely lady friend Snaxine showed up and saved the day. She knows her way around the music studio and for that matter, a dj booth. With the flip of a switch, she had us back in business and for the rest of the night, it was smooth sailing. By the time I got off at 4am, I was completely wasted. The manager paid me 90 euros and I was on my way. The party didn't end there, oh no, we continued onto Bull, and then to this 24 hour bar in Kreuzberg called the Rotes Rose (red rose) It's quite a notorious place and conveniently located right around the corner from my flat. I have hazy memories of the night but I do remember going to the bakery to buy a croissant and then going home to bed. When I woke up later on that day, all of my money was gone. I wasn't sure if I had lost it the night before, or what (the most likely scenerio) whatever the case, it was gone. I didn't say anything about it that day to my roommates (mostly because I was embarassed) then I received an email from my bank in the U.S. saying that there had been some suspicious activity on my ATM card. I never take that card out with me. it always just sits in the same place on my desk. I rather abruptly jumped to conclusions and just lost it. I accused one of my roommates of stealing my money and using my credit card etc. I was just totally crazy freaking out. He of course denied it, and I was packing my bags telling them I was moving out. It was quite an insane episode and gave me yet another reason why I should probably stop drinking. It's never a good idea to accuse anyone of something unless you have proof. But I'm notorious for these type of crazy antics. perhaps it comes from traveling and being ripped off and mugged so many times. I have developed some serious trust issues. Anyway, I had to go to work that night and it was so miserable the entire night. I just wanted to go home. Thats one thing that can suck about having a weekly party. Some Sunday's, I'm just not feeling it, but I have to go anyway, no matter what. about a week later I apologized and made peace with my roommates, but it was still a bit awkward after that, which made me even more eager to move into my own studio, I was planning to move out at the end of the month anyway, because I was so tired of the coal heating bullshit. I was always freezing cold in that flat and I was sick of it. I will never rent a coal heated flat during a Berlin winter, ever again. It's really not the look of the season. Being as it was, the coldest time of the year in Berlin, it also meant that it was time for the Berlin Film Festival. It's actually a perfect time to inject a bit of glamour into what is an otherwise rather bleak time of the year in Berlin. I was planning to meet up with my friend Gus, who was presenting his new film Milk, at the festival, which I was fortunate enough to have been a part of. Also legendary, superstar/1960's Warhol muse, Joe Dallesandro, was also presenting his documentary at the festival. He had added me as a friend on myspace, about a year or two ago, and would comment my page from time to time. I had always thought that it was a fan page or whatever. It had never occurred to me that it might actually be the real Joe Dallesandro, one of the biggest male sex symbols of the 20th century. We had been exchanging messages for the previous few months and I had asked him if he wanted to guest DJ at PORK, while he was in town. I told him he could play sleazy 60's and 70's rock, or whatever he wanted. When he didn't respond, I figured he wasn't interested. Then I found out he was set to host a night at Berlin Hiltrons, a Wednesday night party in Berlin, that's usually pretty fun and packed with hot boys and girls. I knew that Gus was really interested in the early Warhol, factory scene, having even written a script about it, in which he wanted his good friend River Phoenix to play a young Warhol. So, I texted Gus to see if he wanted to come to the party with me. He texted me back and said he was in a press junket all that day, but might want to come out later on, if he wasn't too tired, I guess he was flying back to Portland early the next day. When I heard from him later on that night, he said that he was indeed too tired to go out and that he was heading back to his hotel. I was actually really tired myself but I would have been able to wake myself up to hang out with Gus, whom I hadn't seen since the film shooting for Milk in San Francisco a year ago. I was a bit disappointed that Gus bailed on me, but I didn't lose any damn sleep over it, I'll say that much. I mean it's really his damn loss, there is really only so much of me to go around! I mean, shit. I passed the fuck out and the next day, I spoke to Travis and he said he didn't think Joe Dallesandro even showed up. I found out later from Joe that he missed the party due to his flight being delayed or some shit. So anyway, the Berlin film festival was a bit uneventful for me this year. I did go to one party with Trish, that was a total bore. we got separated and i met some dude, who I let try on my Dior sunglasses, and then I damn gave them to him. What can I say? I'm a goddamn generous drunk. I gotta say, I was fucking pissed about it the next day though. Then I met some fierce lady gender bender, who I was having a fierce kiki with, when Trish showed up, I started yelling at both the woman and Trish (not really sure why), telling them both to call me in about sixteen months. I was pissed at Trish for ditching me (even though she was merely doing her job photographing the party), and I guess I was taking it out on the fierce lady too. She looked some sort of mixture between baffled and amused, but Trish is used to my crazy antics and she kept right on snapping away. I got into a cab and left screaming at them out the window as we screeched away. Trish told me the next day that the woman who I was talking to when he found me was the legendary transexual, performer/party promoter, Romy Haag. She's kinda fierce too, I googled her. Homegirl was David Bowie's lover and the reason why he moved to Berlin in the 70's. She also apparently had an affair with Mick Jagger as well. Oh and I should also mention that girlfriend ran away from home and joined the circus at the age of thirteen. So fucking cunty. Need I say more?

Kenneth Bager - Fragment Seven (Les Fleurs) (MP3)

Janet Jackson - Escapade (don't judge, bitches! ya'll know this single is the hotness! (MP3)

Tennessee & Snax @ PORK

PORK FLYER

Anna, Tennessee, Nathan & Frank

Trish Is Obsessed With The Concept Of Censorship

No Bra: Live @ PORK

Stefan, Nikolaj, Anna, Tennessee, Mario, Frank & Nathan

Susanne & Trish

Thanks Andy!

Romy Haag & Tennessee Claflin (aka drunk mess)

Also around that same time, my best friend in Berlin, Travis Jeppesen, told me that he wanted me to audition for one of the lead parts in the new play he is writing for the CHEAP Collective, set to open this summer in Berlin. The title of the play is "Daddy" and I would be playing the part of Denny - age eleven. Hahaha, I know, I know, it's a bit of a stretch, but Travis said they can't cast an actual 11 year old because of a certain law or some shit. I guess there is fucking onstage and other such glamourousness. My mother is played by Susanne Sachße of Raspberry Reich and Otto, or up with dead people, fame. My school Teacher is played by the fabulous Vaginal Davis. Legendary performance artist and main reason why I'm interested in the part, Ron Athey will be directing the piece. Actually, it would really be a thrill and an honor to work with all aforementioned artists. But I must say, I'm quite enamored with the mystique of Mr. Athey's craft, even though we have only met just a couple of times and I have yet to see him perform live and in the flesh. On the day of the audition Travis printed out a scene for me to look over and I headed over to Art Bar a few hours later, where I met up with Travis, Susanne, and Ron. I'm not exactly sure how I did. I am by no means a trained actor, so it was a bit intimidating doing a scene with Susanne Sachße. She is very intense, and a tough act to follow. But she is also very sweet and she promised that she would come to my upcoming performance at the HAU festival. I still don't know if I got the part or not. I would love to be involved, but at the same time learning all the lines for such a big role in a play is a lot of work and I would have to be very focussed, which means not so much partying. It might actually be good for me. It's like a job, It's the real deal. We'll see what happens. The next week at PORK we had a surprise guest from artist Gio Black Peter, an old New York acquaintance of mine. I knew that he was coming, because my good friend Michael Rade, the brains behind STYX project space, was giving Gio his fist solo exhibition, which was to open later that week. Now I have known Gio since at least 1999, when he used to be the little painter boy for New York's premiere 18 and older N.A.M.B.L.A. bash, Kurfew @ Tunnel. Honestly, who can erase that creepy promoter, Jeff from their memories? Certainly not me! I was eighteen and very new to New York, while Gio was nineteen or twenty, and seemed relatively established, in the downtown scene. I won't say we were ever best buddies or anything, but we had a few mutual friends and often ended up at the same parties. Then one night at Beige, Miss Gia decided that she would stop by our table during dinner and call me out, in front of everyone, for being a hustler! At the time, I was trying to keep that shit on the DL. I can laugh about it now, but at the time I was not feeling her, especially since, rumor was, she was up to the same business. At any damn rate, bitch and I had it out at PORK that night and Gio apologised for his seven year old shadiness, and it's all water under the bridge now. He is actually a very sweet person and quite talented too, I might add. He gave us an impromptu performance that night, and we booked him for a DJ set the next week. His opening later that week was a lot of fun too, Travis Jeppesen, Mario Dzurila, Snax, Michael Rade, Thomas Gotz von Aust, Susanne Sachße, Christophe Chemin, Jey Crisfar, Pietro Spirito, Luigi & Luca, Cornelia Renz and her amazing daughter Anna Renz were all there. A lovely time was had by all. My performance at the HAU festival; 100° Berlin was the next night, so the next day, I was frantically running around Berlin trying to prepare for everything. I still had not located the day-glo pink, liquid latex, that I needed for my performance piece. So instead I had to settle for clear liquid latex, and instead of using black subway marker on top of pink for the graffiti I would instead have to have day-glo pink paint painted with a brush, which wasn't exactly the effect I wanted but It ended up working out fine. I enlisted the help of my friend and roommate, Pietro Spirito and my fabulous, friend/wife, Anna Renz (yes we had our very own drunken 9 am ceremony at the Rotes Rose Bar after a serious bender one night after PORK) Anna was at the Hebbel theatre waiting for us, while I was frantically shaving off all my body hair. I had to scream for Pietro, who was in his room painting, to come and help me shave. We really should have filmed that shit and tacked it onto the back of the performance video, because it was so insanely hilarious, me sitting in the tub naked, with a razor, Pietro doing one leg and me the other. After we removed all of my body hair, we headed off for the Hebbel theater, where Anna was patiently waiting for us. We went up to my dressing room and got right to work. we had a couple of hours before I was scheduled to go on stage, so I stripped down to my underwear and both Pietro and Anna began painting the liquid latex all over my body. It was so cold at first but once it began to dry and they started doing more and more layers, it was fine. After it dried, they began painting the day-glo pink graffiti, all over my body, on top of the latex. This performance was dedicated to my late boyfriend Stephen, so I would just recite words or phrases that had special meaning to us, whether it was the name of a place, or city we visited together, an inside joke we shared, or a nickname. Basically anything that I could think of that brought back memories of Stephen. After the paint dried, I was already about ten minutes late and so I had Pietro take my camera into the audience, to film it and I went backstage. I was a little nervous, but I had drank a couple beers, in order to relax, while we were preparing. There were a lot more people in the audience than my last performance. There were probably 100-150 people there, as opposed to only about 40 at my last performance. The theater was completely darkened except for a big circle of black lights on the stage and a television set at the front of the stage showing only static. There were huge loud speakers on both sides of the stage, booming a remix of an old Pointer Sisters song, from the 70's called, "Send Him Back" a rock song probably would have been more fitting for a Sprouse tribute, but for some reason, this particular song spoke to me and so I decided to use it. When the music started, I walked onto stage and began my performance. It was all very spontaneous and not choreographed. Instead, I just allowed all of the emotions that I was feeling relative to Stephen, to work themselves out of me through movement and dance. To me, it was the static that represented Stephen and the graffiti represented to me, all of the memories I had been clinging to for so long. In the end, I shed my self of all of it, in the same way that a snake sheds its old skin, leaving it behind and starting again fresh and new. Sometimes this is not easy to do. Letting go of the past and looking toward the future, is often times a very painful, frustrating, violent, even angering action to take. It's enough even, to make you lose your mind for a time. But change is universal and at the end of the day, we must all learn to embrace it, regardless of how painful it can be. My performance served as a metaphor for this sort of rebirth, this shedding of skin, this natural occurring cycle of change, and has helped me to set this to course in my own life. For those of you interested in seeing my performance. I have included the video below.

Blonde Redhead - In Particular (Baron von Luxxury Edit)(MP3)

Lykke Li - I'm Good, I'm Gone (Fred Falke Remix)(MP3)

The Verve - See You In The Next One (Have A Good Time)(MP3)

Tennessee Claflin - Send Him Back

Purple Penetration

STYX Sexiness

Lights, Camera, Action.

Luigi Takes Pictures

Beard Of Tears

Meet Romello

Two Of The Biggest Sluts On The Planet

Bleak Winter

Sweet Sixteen

Scottish Neil

The Wild West

Gold Finn

Bitch, I want My Glasses Back!

F R U I T

Youthful Lust

My Body Guard (Don't Fuck With Me, Bitches)

Performance Venue

Tennessee Claflin Performance Prep

Beautiful Boy

Berlin - München - Innsbruck - Ljubljana - Bologna - Firenze - Berlin - 11-14-08

2008-11-13T19:42:00.000-08:00

One evening towards the end of August, I got a phone call from my fantabulous freund Mario, informing me that there was yet another art opening at Peres Projects that night, (those bitches don't play) and that anybody who's anybody was gonna be there. Okay so he didn't exactly say that last part, but if he had said it, he would have been lying. All the same, I agreed to meet up with him there. I was actually feeling a bit homesick for America at the time and I knew that an American infested vernissage at Peres Projects would surely give me the fix that I so desperately desired. I was right. Also, anyone who knows me will tell you that if there is free booze involved; like a moth to a flame, I will show up to just about anywhere. Anyalkie, that night I threw together a costume, jumped on Cycletia IV and rode over to the gallery. Now for those of you who don't know; Cycletia (the t is pronounced "sh" ;) is my bike's name. I have an odd sort of habit of naming and assigning a gender to my most treasured possessions. When I was in High School I had a black motor scooter with fabulous orange flames painted on the sides that I named Rodney and the old beat up dodge caravan that my parents gave me to drive, when I was sixteen and had just gotten my drivers license was known to one and all as Vandella, oh and last but not least there is my laptop, her name is Computia, hahaha, yeah, I know, I know, I'm fucking retarded. I remember when I used to live in New York and I bought Cycletia numero uno. I really loved that bike. I used to ride it to and from school and all over Manhattan everyday. I remember the day I got it so vividly. I took it right over to my boyfriends apartment to show it to him and he covered every square inch of it with his signature silver subway marker graffiti. I'll never forget the look Stephen gave me when I told him my bikes name and asked him to scrawl it on the side of it. He just sort of rolled his eyes and shot me one of his looks that said "you are so fucking crazy", but being the sweetheart that he was, he reluctantly wrote it for me anyway. The next morning I rode my new, tagged up bike back downtown beaming with pride. That bike was the envy of Manhattan during the summer of 2003. So understandably, I was absolutely devastated when it was stolen a few months later. I had been foolish enough to leave it locked to a railing next to the 28th street 1/9 subway entrance, that I didn't notice could be unscrewed. My friends and I put out an APB to everyone we knew below 14th street and my friend Jared offered to create a friendster profile with a picture of it, telling people that if they saw this bike they should promptly make a citizens arrest and contact the NYPD at once, because it was the stolen property of Prix! Oh no, no, no children, we don't fuck around when it comes to shady art thieves. The whole ordeal was all very "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" and if you haven't seen that movie, stop reading this immediately and go out and rent it. It really is a classic piece of 1980's cinema. That shit should screened twenty four hours a day at the damn Smithsonian. It's right up there with the other 80's cinematic masterpieces; The Goonies, Heathers and Girls Just Want To Have Fun; it's a real gem! Anyway, I'm totally digressing. Where was I? Oh yes the art opening at Peres Projects. So I was racing through Görlitzer Park on my way to the gallery when suddenly I heard someone call out my name. I screeched to a halt and turned around to see my darling friend Travis walking there in the park on his way to the opening to meet up with me and Mario. I ran up and gave him a big hug. He had been on vacation in Prague for the past few weeks and It been almost a month since I had seen him. I walked my bike with him the rest of the way there. When we arrived, the place was, as I expected, crawling with North Americans, all of them far too fabulous for their own good. We met up with Mario who was there hanging out with famed artist Sue de Beer. Sue is a friend of Travis' and photographed him for the sleeve of his latest novel "Wolf At The Door." We chatted for a while drinking our beers before going inside to view the exhibition. This time around I really enjoyed it. I thought the paintings and installations were really awesome; a huge improvement from the last show that I saw at Peres Projects, which I found to be somewhat bland and uninspiring. They should hire me to curate a show there sometime, I could show em how it's done! After the opening we went out for cheese burgers at Burger Meister (that little kiosk under the u-bahn tracks near Schlesiches Tor) and then headed over to Barbie Deinhoff's to meet up with Snax for drinks. While we were there waiting for Snaxette to show up, we met this totally random and crazy German couple. We sat with them and chatted about art, politics and (in their opinion) the sad state of affairs in Kreuzberg. The woman (I forget her name) was this amazingly intelligent ,hardcore, militant anarchist and I was listening to her, utterly captivated as she spewed her very convincing and articulate anti-capitalist, political rhetoric our way. She ranted about the creeping corporate encroachment of her beloved East Berlin neighborhood with an almost desperate indignation. What can I say? She was completely amazing, I fucking love people like that & I fucking LOVE Berlin. There is no other place like it on this planet kids. Trust that.

Send Him Back (Pilooski Edit) - Pointer Sisters (MP3)

Spiraling

Stephen Tagging Cycletia

"You want me to write what?"

You Never Walk Alone

MARS & MAPS

Hail Brave

^ Rogue.^

Peres Dwellings

Peres Armless Alien Child

Peres Geometry

The Ancient Profession

Fuck Me Like The Whore I Am,

You Sexy Beast.

Nathania Shines Her Brights

A City With Two Faces.

"And He Wear Fancy Adidas."

Now it just wouldn't be right (or usual) for me to post a blog without some sort of insane violent dramatic occurrence (usually involving drugs or alcohol) and this post certainly doesn't disappoint (well except for perhaps my mother.) But lets not get ahead of ourselves. On August 30th my friend Michael held one of his "Borderlines" readings/spoken word/literary events at his STYX project space. Usually I find these literary events to be a complete and utter bore, but this one was different. Most of the writers were German and read to us in German including my glamourous friend Thomas Götz von Aust. My good friend Travis Jeppesen was also one of the writers included and he read us (in English) a great short story that he wrote. Travis is an incredibly talented writer and is even being touted by some in the art/literary world as the next William S. Burroughs. Although some of the subject matter he writes about is a bit dark and bleak at times, (definitely not for the faint hearted) he however earns my applause for his unapologetic fearlessness in exploring themes that most other writers wouldn't dare to go near. I'm actually reading his first novel "Victims" right now and I'm really enjoying it. It's all about an insane fictional religious cult (think, david koresh, heavens gate, or jonestown) He and his boyfriend Mario are actually two of my closest friends here in Berlin. I'm pretty sure you can buy his books on Amazon.com or from the publisher (maybe even directly from him) so all of you should go out and buy his books. He really is a unique talent and deserves all of our support. Travis also has a blog devoted mostly to art criticism, so check that out too. - www.disorientations.com - I was actually quite surprised at how many people showed up to listen to all the authors read. It seemed even more crowded than some of the art openings STYX has hosted. After about an hour of attempting to grasp the gist of what the German readers were saying, Mario and I went out into the stair well and smoked a joint. By the time Travis went up to read, Mario and I were quite stoned. When the readings were finally over, thats when the real party began. I was really drunk, having downed about five glasses of wine, then we turned on some electro music and I became a dancin fool! Someone brought this amazing, raggedy, Morticia Adams like black wig and we were all taking turns wearing it as we got more and more drunk and stoned. That is where the night should have ended but instead we took the S-bahn for a bar crawl in Friedrichshain. I have very fuzzy memories of sitting in the middle of some random side street drinking beer and carrying on like crazed lunatics as we tried to decide what bar or club to go to. Finally we ended up splitting up. Travis and Mario very wisely called it a night and decided to go home, while Michael, Thomas, Tilo and I went to some club near Warschauer Strasse. They all cut the line and went directly into the club while I was still outside locking up my bike and chatting with some random punk girl. When I got to the door the bouncers refused to let me in saying that I was way too drunk (I definitely was) although had I entered with my friends I'm sure they would have overlooked it. They wouldn't even let me go in to tell my friends that I couldn't come in. What happened next is a typical example of the kind of foolish decisions I seem to routinely make when I have had too much to drink. I thought to myself, I'll show these dumbass goons! So I climbed a tree and jumped over the back wall into the outdoor biergarten of the club (nearly breaking my legs in the process.) I dusted myself off and stumbled inside where I found Michael and everyone. When I found them they asked me where I had been and I told them what had happened. My friends are used to me pulling these kind of antics, so they really weren't surprised. I was there for maybe twenty or thirty minutes when all of a sudden some big muscular german bouncer spotted me and grabbed me by my collar and then literally threw me out of the club! Hahaha it was so embarrassing and I was really fucking pissed off. I would have gladly left on my own. But this idiot had to put on a big macho show for everyone. I drunkenly asked him his name so that I could file a complaint. I was such a mess. He refused to tell me his name. He was wearing a name tag but it was face down against his chest. So all of a sudden a lunged for him and snatched his name tag away and took off running with it down the street. I don't know why but for some reason I was laughing hysterically as he chased me down the cobblestone street. Then my little espandrilles slippers that i was wearing fell off and I threw the name tag to the ground, but he didn't see me throw it. He tackled me to the ground and started smashing my hand against the pavement thinking his name tag was what I had clutched inside my hand (it was actually my phone) My thumb actually still hurts and that was almost a month ago. I must have fractured it or something. I have to say though that I put up a pretty good fight considering how drunk I was and the fact that he was probably three times my size! He didn't get off of me until I started screaming rape, rape, rape at the top of my lungs. Then all of a sudden out of nowhere my friend Tilo arrived and brought me my shoes that had fallen off. We stupidly decided to call the police (even though I knew they probably wouldn't do anything.) We were right. The police didn't do a damn thing even though I had about three witnesses who saw the whole thing and were totally on my side. They said that I should go to the station the next morning if I wanted to file a complaint, but the next morning when I woke up, I just felt like a complete idiot, douche bag for allowing things to escalate as they did. Yes, they shouldn't have been so rough with me when they kicked me out, but I was very stupid to jump the wall in the first place and to grab the bouncers name tag. But when you're as drunk as I was that night you don't really think rationally. I guess I just need to learn when to call it a night and go home to bed. But I'm quite notorious for learning my lessons in life the hard way.

U R A Fever - The Kills (MP3)

Disco Zombie

WELCOMEELEPHANT

Fertile Decay

Beauty In The Grotesque

Travis Reads About Grandma

I Write For Porn Too

Only In Berlin Kids

Potsdamer Platz Is Rising

Morticia & Michelle

Free As We Are

I Wanna Screw!

Greasy, Sexy, Cool!

Adrianna: Berlin Fashion Icon/PORK Fly(er) Boy Extraordinaire...

Drunk Mess.

Chemtrails Will Kill Us All

Blame The Masonic Serpents

This past August was actually a bit boring and uneventful especially towards the beginning, Most of my friends were out of town on vacation. The city felt a bit like a ghost town for a couple weeks there and I was getting a bit lonely and bored of Berlin and starting to think that maybe I needed a change of scenery. This always happens to me whenever I reach the six month point somewhere. I just can't seem to stay in one place. I swear I am perpetually transient. Anygypsy, (xomk!) I decided it might be cool to move to London just for the winter and shake my money maker over there for a while hahaha. Now that might sound like a good idea in theory but in actuality London is a tough town. London is great if you have money, but like New York, or any big city for that matter, it's quite miserable to be poor there, I would think. Regardless, I was all set to move there, I found a room to rent and everything and then literally in the space of one afternoon everything changed. I was doing some research online when I started reading about the dire predictions so many important world economists have been making in the past few months; total economic collapse, the devaluation and eventual destruction of the U.S. dollar, intoduction of the amero, panic, fascism, police state, martial law, some even predicting a worldwide economic depression that would make the great depression of the 1930's pale in comparison. It It all sounded so alarming. But It also seems so very calculated. The other day when I saw an, almost weepy, sullen George W. Bush on CNN in a very serious tone begging for the American tax payers to pony up another 700 billion dollars to bail out Wall Street in order to avoid grave danger, three words came to my mind. ONE LAST HEIST. These crooks make me wanna puke. Seriously. This shit is gonna happen regardless.. These crooks are purposefully creating an atmosphere of panic and fear in order to exert more power and to rob Americans even more than they already have. Anyway, that afternoon in August as i was reading what all these economists were saying, I began to wonder if London was the sort of city I would really want to be living in the event of such a calamity as a total economic meltdown. Just then my phone rang. It was my friend Michael Rade, the gallerist behind STYX project space. He asked me if I would be interested in participating in his upcoming show featuring the paintings of another American born artist; Prague based painter, Jeremiah Palecek. He asked if I would like to do a performance piece at the shows closing reception on September 26th. I thought it over for a few hours and decided to hold off on moving to London. I called Michael back and agreed to do the piece. I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to do for it just yet but I saw it as a great opportunity for me. September 3rd saw the opening of the exhibition and Jeremiah is an undeniable talent. Most of his paintings are YouTube stills. He paints the Internet, video game and porn stills. His work depicts a sort of suburban American angst and an isolation that North Dakota born Palacek is certainly no stranger to. The internet seemingly acts as a sort of muse and provides for him an inspiration and an escape to the outside world. This is also quite true for me. So when considering my performance, I stayed in keeping with this theme. I drew from my own personal angst and isolation growing up in America in a Mormon family. Although I have been estranged from the religion since around the age of fifteen, I still often feel conflicted about what exactly my purpose is in this life and where we all come from etc. Although I believe that this inner conflict is ubiquitous throughout humanity, I must say that I think the brainwash and religious indoctrination imposed on children in the Mormon faith is certainly on the more intense end of the spectrum. In fact I think it amounts to a form of child abuse and for those of you who disagree, I suggest you watch the film "Jesus Camp" on YouTube. So anyway, for my performance I wanted to express this angst and inner turmoil through the art of dance. I coupled this with the age old question of who am I? and where do I come from? I found a passage on creation in the book of Genesis (2:7) " And the LORD God formed man from the dust of the earth and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and man became a living being." For the piece, I had this scripture graffitied on my chest and stomach in large block letters. I walked into the gallery naked as the day that I entered this world. I knelt down and covered my body from head to toe with the dust/dirt of the earth and danced to an insane recording mash up of tribal music and a very lively/spirited pentecostal church service replete with screaming clapping and people speaking in tongues. I wanted to illustrate the insanity that I feel religion induces. I think I suceeded. I called the piece "Sunday Morning" and the experience of performing it was far more therapeutic than any shrink that I have ever visited. Make of it what you will. I actually find it a bit strange explaining and dissecting my own art, so I will leave it at that. For those of you interested in learning more and getting another perspective on my performance, here is a link to a review of it.

http://disorientations.com/2008/09/30/a-star-is-born-tennessee-claflin-at-styx-project-space/

After I finished my performance I was whisked away to take a shower at the Potsdamer Platz penthouse of my glamourous new gallerist friend Nathan Scheider. I had met Nathan a couple weeks before after chatting with him online for a few months. Nathan is one of those people that just has such a natural, nurturing and caring personality. He is extremely intelligent and witty. He also has an incredibly compelling personal life story. Although we come from two very different worlds, Nathan understands the intrinsic and often interchangeable relationship between artists and their muses. I have to say that there is indeed something very inspiring about this man. Nathan was born in Saigon in the early seventies at the height of the Vietnam war. Often times American GI's would father children with Vietnamese women, usually sex workers. When the babies were born, most of the time they would be abandoned or left in the care of an orphanage. By nineteen seventy five there were thousands of these rejected, unwanted children running around Saigon. In a rare ethical move, at the end of the war, the United States took responsibility for these children, bringing them to America in a move which was coined "operation baby lift" Nathan was adopted by a family in Minnesota where he grew up in a loving family that taught him the value of hard work and good character. Upon growing up, he lived in New York for many years doing various jobs before finally meeting his husband, who is a German pharmaceutical executive and they settled down in Berlin. He owns a large gallery space in the center of Berlin and it's grand opening is actually coming up at the end of this month. So anyway after my performance and subsequent shower, I invited a few of my friends over for a little after party. Not surprisingly all of my friends loved Nathan immediately and he has since become a part of our little circle of friends here in Berlin. I feel very fortunate to have met some really great people here in Berlin this year. Although I must admit it is a bit strange feeling attached to a place again. Since leaving New York back in 2004, I have led a somewhat gypsy like existence. I have enjoyed traveling and have had many different experiences, some good, some not so good. But I do think that it's good for me to finally settle down somewhere instead of moving to a new place every year. Berlin is starting to feel like home and I am getting more and more comfortable with that.

Leni (Crystal Castles Remix) - GoodBooks (MP3)

Tennessee Claflin - "Sunday Morning"

Performance Announcement

Primary Colors

The Star Of My Previous Blog

We Are

Freedom Fighters.

We See Other Things.

Expensive Sadness

Suburban Harcore

Wanna Make An Error

Big Bird Pentagon

Ecstatic Vision

I Like Turtles

I've Walked With Ghosts

Lavender Lust

Wedding Lot

The Shade That Is Charles II

Death To American Capitalism

Back in 2005 I was living in Istanbul, Turkey teaching english. After about seven months of being fucked over by the director of the language school I was employed with, I decided that it was time for something new. Every month on payday before I spent money on anything else, I would go to the currency exchange booth down the street from my apartment in Beşiktaş and buy 100 euros. By the time July rolled around I had saved about 600 euros, so when I got into a huge argument with my boss over my wages and hours that month, I finally decided to quit the gig and just pick up and move to Berlin. It had always been in the back of my mind to live in Berlin at some point in my life. I had fallen in love with the city the first time I went there for the Love Parade back in the summer of 2000. I had a lot of baggage in Istanbul though and I couldn't bring it all to Berlin with me so I kept it in storage at my friend Murat's house in the old city. With just six hundred euros in my pocket I knew that I couldn't spend a third of it on a last minute plane ticket to Berlin. The day after I quit my job I got up early in the morning and took the train to the outskirts of Istanbul and started making my way west hitch hiking. I have hitched a few times before but never cross country. Needless to say it was quite an adventure. My first ride was with a trucker whom I met at a gas station. I found that gas stations and truck stops were the easiest places to find rides. the side of the road, um not so much. While I was riding with the trucker he let me listen to the BBC during the drive. The date was 7-7-05. I listened intently as the details unfolded with regard to the London terror attacks that had occurred that morning. I was of course in shock like everyone else in the world. It was also quite strange to be in a muslim country on a day of such finger pointing and speculation. We reached a town near the Turkish and Greek borders and we went our separate ways. I had to walk with my heavy backpack in the hot afternoon sun about five miles before I was finally picked up by a motorcyclist and driven the remaining four miles to the border crossing. I had no problems leaving Turkey but when I attempted to walk across the half mile "no mans land" which divides the two nations, the Greek army was having none of it. They demanded that I return to the Turkish side. When I asked them why they said it was not permitted to cross the border on foot. (which is considered dangerous due to the many land mines that dot the border landscape.) When I told them that I had no car they looked at me in astonishment. They helped me flag down a car whose driver agreed to drive me the half mile or so to the Greek side. Upon going through passport control I spent the rest of the afternoon literally begging truckers for rides. That was when I realized how different the Greek mentality is versus the Turkish mentality with regard to hitching. I find that the Turks are so much more friendly and laid back. Although I suppose my knowing a bit of Turkish might have something to do with that. I waited at a gas station for more than four hours until finally around nightfall I met a couple on Macedonian guys who agreed to give me a ride. They dropped me off on the side of the highway on the outskirts of Kavalla, which is a city in northern Greece. I had to trek ten more miles to finally reach the city center. When I finally arrived I found a park where I just collapsed on the grass from exhaustion and went to sleep. The next morning I was still exhausted and covered in mosquito bites so I decided to splurge a little and buy a bus ticket to the city of Thessaloniki. It was only about ten euros and I was able to sleep on the bus much more comfortably than in the park. When we reached Thessaloniki a couple hours later, I decided to stay there for one night. So I booked a bed in a hostel and slept most of the afternoon and was able to take a hot shower. I was feeling refreshed and rested and it was a Friday night, So I decided to investigate the gay scene in Thessaloniki. I wandered around the city and the waterfront and just hung out drinking beers and people watching. Then when it got later I went out dancing at some gay club and had a fabulous time. I would have liked to stay there longer but I had to keep telling myself that I wasn't on vacation and that I was merely trying to get from point A to point B. At the club I met a couple from Skopje who were leaving early the next morning back to Macedonia and they agreed to let me hitch a ride with them. I wasn't sure if they would really follow through but sure enough they arrived at my hostel bright and early the next morning. I was so groggy and hungover having only slept for four hours. So I wasn't very good company for the drive up. In fact I slept most of the way there, much to their disappointment. I think they had been keen on practicing their english with me. When we arrived to Skopje they bought me lunch and then we went our separate ways. I spent the afternoon getting drunk and wandering around the Macedonian capital. Skopje had a very sort of bleak Soviet feel to it (certainly not a place I would want spend much time) after spending an afternoon there, I was ready to continue moving. So I made my way to the train station and saw that there was a night train to Belgrade, Serbia. I waited a few hours until the train arrived then immediately headed for the train cars toilette, which I turned into my own private compartment for the next three hours as I read a book. I emerged only when I was sure that most people were asleep and the conductor had already checked everyones tickets. I found an empty sleeping compartment where I passed out. We arrived to Belgrade very early the next morning. and I spent a few hours wandering around the city before again telling myself to keep moving. Rather then attempting to hitch again, I decided to try my luck at hiding in the train cars toilette again and jumped a train bound for Zagreb, Croatia. I soon found out that it's a lot harder pulling those type of shenanigans during the daytime when the train is crowded with people banging on the bathroom door every five minutes. I kept on having to switch cars and was constantly on the lookout for the conductor. Every time I saw her I would switch cars again and lock myself inside the toilette. It was really not so fierce. The whole charade was almost not worth the trouble. Finally we arrived to Zagreb just as it was starting to get dark. I was soooo happy to get off that train. That little game of cat and mouse was tiring me out. I found a park where I hid my pack in some bushes and then I hit the mean streets of Zagreb. Actually there is nothing mean about them. Zagreb is actually a very beautiful and refined city, at least what I saw of it. I went to an internet cafe and found out what gay bars were good. I can't recall the name but I went to one gay bar and as I walked into the packed bar. Upon entering I immediately heard a loud American accent that belonged to a handsome older man in his 50's. He seemed to be there alone chatting up random people at the bar. It had been a while since I had had a conversation with another American, so I had a couple of drinks and went over to introduce myself. His name was Pete Smith and he was a pilot from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He told me that he had rented a car and was just touring around Europe alone in a rental car. We ended up getting very drunk together. He asked where I was staying and was utterly shocked when I told him about the way that I had been traveling. He invited me to come and stay at his hotel with him. We left the bar together and went back to his hotel. It was really nice to get a good night sleep in a comfortable bed. The next morning we had breakfast together and he made me a proposition. He said, why don't you join me on this road trip and whenever you get sick of me and want to leave, I will buy you a plane ticket to Berlin. The idea sounded good to me. He seemed like a nice guy and he said it wouldn't cost me a cent. So I agreed and that morning we jumped in his rental car, dropped by the park where I had left my backpack in the bushes and we hit the road. We headed south toward the Dalmation Coast. Over the course of the next couple weeks we visited various national parks and beaches, we went to Split and Dubrovnik. We took a ferry over to Italy and drove across to Napoli and up through the Italian countryside. We ended up in the south of France, in Nice. I was getting a bit tired of him by then and one night we had a big blowout fight over the map. We were looking for a bar and Pete was saying how I should listen to him and we were going the wrong way (even though I knew we were going the right way) He went off on me and was like listen, I'm a pilot blah blah blah and I know how to read a map. So I asked him point blank, if you're so good with maps and directions Mr. Pilot then tell me which way is north? He had no idea and I was laughing my ass off. He stormed off in the opposite direction and I went out alone that night and had a fabulous night. But I was tired of him and kinda pissed because I didn't have a key to the room, so when I got back I told him I wanted to fly to Berlin the next morning. He booked the flight and that was that. I was in Berlin for about three weeks that summer and I spent all of the money that I had saved. I had no idea what I was going to do after that. Then I went to the internet cafe one day and received an email from Pete. He was in Barcelona and he said that he missed me and was about to go on a gay cruise of the Mediteranian. He told me that the package he had bought allowed him to bring one guest and that he would be delighted if I would join him. By this point things with us were totally platonic and so I flew to Barcelona and that afternoon we boarded a huge ship filled with thousands of gay men! It was so much fun. Very sexy, boozy, dancey and fun! I met so many amazing people; one of which was from my hometown of Salt Lake City. Actually he lived in Park City. His name was John Poole and I spent a lot of time hanging out with him and his fabulous Los Angeles friends on the cruise. Pete was totally cool with it, as he had met friends of his own. We made several stops including Ibiza, (where Pete and I almost died on our motorcycle) Pisa (I had already been there so I stayed on the ship that day) Rome, Santorini, Mykonos, Istanbul, then ending in Athens. I decided to just get off the ship in Istanbul where I still had a ton of my belongings in storage. So basically my first attempt to move to Berlin was a total failure (albeit a fun failure) and I ended up back at square one. Istanbul. I stayed there for another few weeks at my friend Murats house. Just long enough to earn enough money for a flight back to America. Anyhobo, that is sort of my adventure story for the summer of 2005 and the backstory of how I first came to know my friend Pete.

Embrace (feat. Ladyhawke) - PNAU (MP3)

The Waning Light

Welt Center Lines

18 Roosters

BMW Welt Center

Treading On History

Captive Angels

Creepy Creations

Leather Bar Decor

Neuschwanstein Castle

Bavarian House

Austrian Alps

A Dream Come True

More Austrian Alps

Hill Top Castle

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Innsbruck Sidewalk

Over the years since that summer of 2005, I have stayed in contact with Pete. While I was living in Madrid in 2006 I met up with Pete and my best friend and roommate at the time Jared. Pete flew me down to Cape Town, South Africa. Jared had bought his own ticket and just sorta did his own thing staying at a youth hostel while my broke ass would stay with Pete at his guesthouse or sometimes I would crash on the couch at Jared's hostel. That was such a wild trip. Getting mugged with Jared on our first night in Cape Town stands out as a treasured memory! But that's a blog in it's own right! I'll write more about that some other time. Later on that year Pete hired me to paint his entire house in Fort Lauderdale, so I spent a week there doing that and hanging out at the beach. After that I didn't see or speak to Pete very often until just recently when he emailed me telling me that he was planning to do another car tour of Europe. He said that he would be going to Munich in October to pick up the new car he had just ordered from the BMW factory there. He told me I should fly down from Berlin and meet up with him in Munich so we could drive around the Austrian/Slovenian alps and Italy for a couple of weeks. Never one to pass on a free trip, I jumped at the opportunity. I arrived to Munich from Berlin on the 15th of October and took the metro to the gay area where Pete was staying. At first it was a bit awkward, because I hadn't seen him in more than two years, but after we had a few drinks everything was fine and it was as if no time had passed at all. Above all Pete and I are drinking buddies. Both of us are total alkies so I think that's why we get along. What can I say we're hardcore, bitches! There are definitely those times though when we aren't drunk where we are at each others throats. It can be quite funny actually, the way we fight. Pete was at the BMW Welt (world) Center everyday that we were in Munich. One visit was good enough for me, although the building is a very impressive modern structure designed by world renowned architect Wolf Prix. Fierce name right? Hahaha, I just like it because PRIX is my DJ name. So most of the days Pete went there, I would just wander around Munich visiting museums and little shops. One afternoon I discovered this obscure little 400 year old cemetery. It was so amazing filled with huge towering trees and all the leaves were changing colors. I laid down amidst the fallen leaves and graves (some of which dated all the way back to the 16th century) and I read for a couple of hours before drifting off to sleep. When I woke up I had this half eery, half peaceful feeling that I was not alone. When I got up to leave I wandered the streets with the careless stoic serenity of a ghost. It was a good feeling. This physical world is both beautiful and tiresome. At night Pete and I would eat dinner together and get drunk out at the hustler bar or one of the gay saunas. It's so strange you know, it seems like the only time I ever go to saunas is when I am traveling. I should go more often. Berlin has plenty of them but I never go to them. Even though I really enjoy them. There is something that feels very relaxing and comforting about sitting and socializing with like minded men at a sauna. It's something that is so entrenched in human history dating back to ancient Greek and Roman times. I used to go to traditional Turkish Hammams all the time in Istanbul, but again that's a whole different blog. All in all we spent about four days in Munich before picking up Pete's new car at the BMW factory and heading for the alps. It was so funny to see how excited and giddy he was about his new car. At one point while we were speeding down the autobahn, I looked over at Pete and he had tears in his eyes. I wanted to say dude, it's just a car, just a thing, it's no big deal. But I didn't. We all value different things in life and I didn't want to mock something that obviously brought him so much joy. Then I looked off into the distance and saw just how stunning the landscape was. It was absolutely awe inspiring and I began to wonder if I would be able to hold back my own tears. We were driving so fast that at some points I had to tell him to please slow down. It was really nice this time not to have to deal with maps. His car is equipped with a global positioning system (GPS) and lemme letcha know that little device averted more than a few arguments. It made the journey so much more enjoyable and stress free for both of us. The afternoon we left Munich, we drove southward up into the alps to a place I have been wanting to see since I was a little boy. Ever since I was eight years old I had maps covering every square inch of my bedroom walls. The only exception was a poster of Neuschwanstein Castle. The castle is located south of Munich on the border of Bavaria and Austria. Pete and I went there and albeit crowded with tourists, it was absolutely spectacular. We spent the entire afternoon wandering around the grounds and the nearby town. We decided later on that afternoon that we should hit the road so that we could drive through the Austrian alps during daylight hours. It was about a 2.5 hour drive through the mountains to Innsbruck, Austria. During that drive we saw some of the most stunning scenery that I have ever seen in my life. It was outstanding. We arrived to Innsbruck in the early evening where we checked into a hotel conveniently located right next door to a gay bar. We went and ate dinner and then wandered around Innsbruck. I can usually tell right away whether or not I am going to like a city within the first hour of arriving and I have to say that the general mentality of the people of Innsbruck was so warm and welcoming. Everyone seemed so kind and quick to smile. It also seemed to be a very lively and young city, population wise. I found out later that it is actually a university town with nearly a third of the population being students. Later on that night after Pete went to bed, I went out to the gay bar downstairs and stayed out drinking and dancing with all the fabulous queens of Innsbruck until 5 am. Needless to say I was not feeling it the next morning when Pete dragged out of bed at 9 am wanting to get an early start on driving. We had a lot of ground to cover that day. Although It was an incredibly beautiful drive through the Austrian, Italian and Slovenian alps, I must say that by hour number six in that car, I was out for damn blood. I wanted to kill. I don't work so well hungover and sleep deprived. Finally we reached our destination for that day; Lake Bled, Slovenia. We checked into our hotel and after a hot shower and a few drinks at the bar I was back in business. Lake Bled was amazing. It's set against in incredible backdrop of steep granite peaks, a huge fortress and a charming little town. We stayed there for two nights just relaxing and taking in all the scenery. Haha the staff at the little guesthouse where we were staying must have thought we were so crazy, what with me ordering two double vodka tonics at lunch. What? Don't judge! I told you that Pete and I, we don't fuck around. When I'm around him I turn into such a raging alchoholic. Hahaha, I guess it's probably a good thing that we don't see each other that often. Not that things are much different in Berlin, I drink a lot there too, although I can say that I don't normally drink during daylight hours. After a couple days we got back on the road and headed to Slovenia's capital city; Ljubljana. When we arrived there we drove around for a bit and decided to hold off on getting a hotel room there. The city was infested with traffic, police and security forces all because some skeezbag named Elizabeth Windsor was in town. It was almost impossible to find parking and a lot of the streets were closed in the center of the city. We finally found parking in a garage and we had lunch and spent the afternoon wandering around the old city. Ljubljana seemed nice enough but we kinda wanted to get out of there because we were actually pulled over as soon as we got there and there were cops everywhere. Perhaps if that trick heauxbag and her smut peddling friends weren't in town we might have stayed the night in Ljubljana but instead we opted to press it down into Italy. We thought about spending the night in Venice but I spent ten days there last year and I thought it might be cool to check out some other city. I had always heard that Bologna was a sort of cool/liberal/university town and so I convinced Pete we should head down that way. He was sold immediately as soon as I mentioned to him that according to the gay guide book, the most luxurious gay sauna in Italy is located in Bologna. We arrived around 10 pm after driving through a thick haze of industrial smog that lasted from Venice to Bologna, quite a stark contrast from the crisp clean air of the Slovenian alps. Despite the air quality I really loved Bologna, even though we only spent two nights there, we had so much fun exploring it. We found a really amazing pizza place and a charming little wine bar that had an odd obsession with pigs. The walls were covered with postcards and pictures of them from floor to ceiling, I took a picture of the walls thinking that I could perhaps use the images for a future flyer for the new dance party that my friend Travis and I are starting in Berlin which shares a similar theme;) Our new party is called PORK. It's a new weekly Sunday Party @ Ficken 3000 and it's poised to become the hottest new party in the city. Trust. Our opening night: November 2nd. Pete and I did visit that bathhouse and it was very beautiful, the only problem was that there were only about five people there including us. I guess it's only crowded on weekends? We were there on a Thursday night. Friday morning we drove through the hills of Tuscany to one of my favorite cities in the world, Florence, Italy. The last time I was in Florence I was 19 years old and was backpacking around europe. It was the summer of 2000 and by the time I reached Florence toward the end of my trip I was completely broke. I slept in the train station and snuck into both the Uffizi Gallery and the Galleria dell'Accademia which houses Michaelangelo's "David." I snuck in through the exit doors of both museums. Hey sometimes ya gotta improvise when you're broke. This time I just enjoyed the amazing Florentine cuisine, the famous gellato, and Just wandering around this amazing city photographing it's street artisans, stunning architecture and graffiti. I also had the chance to explore Florence's gay night life, which I missed out on last time as a result of my dire financial situation. At one of the gay bars I met a really sweet bartender guy around my age. By the name of Pietro Spirito, He is an artist as well. A very talented painter in fact. We spent the evening chatting and at the end of the night we exchanged email addresses. Since then we have stayed in contact and he sent me links to some of his work. He is an incredible talent, his work is very figurative and realistic in nature. He has expressed an interest in moving to Berlin to work as an artist and I am working on organizing an exhibition of his work here in Berlin. Meeting him was a wonderful cap to an amazing trip. We will share an apartment here in Berlin when he arrives in early December. Below are some links to his work... Although overall I had a lot of fun with Pete on this trip, But I was also really excited to get back to my life in Berlin and begin preparations for me and Travis' new weekly party....

-Pietro Spirito Links -

www.premioceleste.it/ita_artista_opere/idu:1394/

http://www.piziarte.net/spirito.htm

Lights Out (David Rubato Remix) - Santogold (MP3)

Lake Bled (view from fortress)

Lake Bled (view of fortress)

Lake Bled Mallard

Ljubljana Dragon

Arno Solar Reflection

Battistero di Santo Giovanni (Ghiberti Doors)

Bridge Over The Arno

Florentine Street Artisan

Il Duomo Firenze

Meine Schwester

Determination

Duomo

But Not For Much Longer

Duomo By Night

Florentine Sunset

= All The Haters

I came up with the idea of starting a new party here in Berlin last summer. I was brainstorming with Travis and Mario one night trying to figure out an easier more legitimate way of making money here in Berlin. Finding work here is not an easy feat and it's even harder when you are like me; illegal and don't speak fluent German. I had this concept floating around inside my head of a trashy, non-stuckup, indie-rock/electro dance party that also had a sexy streak. I wanted to do an all encompassing, sort of get it all here night. So I came up with the name PORK - drink-dance-strip-fuck. and I thought Sunday night would be the perfect night for a party like that. Since the only other real party on Sunday night is GMF and that party attracts a whole different crowd anyway. I live in an area of Berlin dubbed Kreuzköln, It sort of Stradles the neighborhoods of Kreuzberg and Neuköln. There is one gay bar in the neighborhood. It's called Ficken 3000 and It's right down the street from my apartment. It's a regular bar upstairs and has a darkroom for cruising downstairs. From time to time I would drop in for a beer and eventually I became friendly with the owner Frank. I mentioned to him every now and again that I had this idea for a weekly party and I might be interested in using his venue to host it, but we never really talked seriously about it. Then last September I was invited by two different friends of mine to participate in a film project by the legendary German, queer filmmaker Rosa von Praunheim. The shoot was scheduled on a Saturday afternoon at Ficken 3000. The gig paid something like fifty euros for five or six hours of work and even though I wasn't feeling well on the day of the shoot I still went because I had invited my friend to participate, who was visiting Berlin; the Portand based performance artist Lee Kyle, and I didn't want him to have to go there alone. So I headed over to the bar for the film shooting around noon. As usual on the set of a film there was a lot of waiting around and what not, So I got the chance to hang out with and get to know Frank the owner of the bar a lot better, and that is when we began to seriously discuss me starting a Sunday night party there. I told him some of my Ideas and he instructed me to put together a proposal on paper for him. At that point I called my friend Travis and asked him if he wanted to become my business partner and host the party with me. We could take turns hosting and DJ'ing. Travis writes for a living so I sent him a summary of my ideas and he typed up the proposal. Then we went together to Ficken and presented it to Frank. After a few meetings and with a bit of help from our friend Nathan who speaks perfect German it was a done deal. The party was to begin in November. Travis and I also enlisted the help of his boyfriend Mario who is a genius graphic designer and the two of them designed a great flyer and began promoting the party while I was away on my road trip. I returned about a week before the opening night and did promotion almost every night leading up to Sunday giving them a much needed break. Then on the Thursday before our opening night, disaster struck. Now it is said that "when it rains it pours" but what happened to me takes that saying to a whole new level. first I had two fillings in my back mollers come out while I was eating dinner (I have no dental insurance), then I had my second performance piece cancelled an hour later, and then I spilled beer all over my laptop that I had just bought earlier this year and it shorted out and died. All this happened just as I was putting the finishing touches on to both my DJ set and this blog. I was completely devastated and spent the entire next day in bed. Luckily for me I still had some of the songs for my DJ set on my I-pod so when Sunday rolled around I was able to DJ using my I-pod and actually our opening night went great. We had more than a hundred people show up (which is a lot for that bar) and our friend Snax was there to help DJ and emcee. Everything turned out great in the end. Although the next couple of weeks were a bit rough for me being without a computer. I had to DJ from my I-pod again for the second week and we earned even more money for the second week, So I'm hoping that it will just continue growing as more and more people start to hear about it. Then all of a sudden this morning I tried turning on my laptop again and voila! Miraculously Computia woke up from from her two weak coma and is now working again like a charm, as if nothing had ever happened! I guess she just needed a little rest and to to dry out? Anyway I couldn't be happier to have my laptop up and working again and now that I have ALL of my 5000 songs back! This weeks PORK is gonna be even more amazing than the last two parties. So spread the word kidz and get ready to "shake tha dice and steal tha rice." As far as I'm concerned, I'm just glad that I'm not longer "going through it" It really is such a damn relief to no longer be "going through psychological changes in my life" ;) Hyleaux!!!

Half Mast - Empire Of The Sun (MP3)

A New Party Presented By DJs PRIX & Disaster Area

Friedrichshain Skull

Green Ghosts

Rock On!

Frank & Christoph

DJ DIANA RRHEA

When Ya Gotta Go, Ya Gotta Go...

So Original ;)

Bolognese Street Art

Oink Oink!

Clap 4 Claudette!

The Glamourous Screen Legend - Susanne Sachße

Pretty In Pink

Sound Art @ STYX

Caroline Retro

Eat Me On Tuesday

Mind In The Gutter

Living Like A Gypsy In Spirit

Neon Mitte

Berlin 8-22-8

2008-08-22T18:36:00.000-07:00

When I returned from Moscow in June, I was (as my friend Fabio would put it) "totally destroyed." I think perhaps my insomnia and general distaste for humanity might have had something to do with my finding a slashed up, bloody corpse on a Moscow sidewalk, I don't goddamn know, it's just hunch really. I seriously stayed in bed for a week, leaving only to make my daily trip to hasenheide park to buy a dime bag of pot. I used to buy from the same Turkish boys every time, but one day; a couple days after returning from Moscow, They approached me in the park and they immediately started fighting over me. One of them was clearly high on something and it was obviously something a bit more hardcore than the ganja! He seemed totally desperate for my business. He got right up in my face and was very pushy and intimidating. I told him that he was being way to aggressive and that I would rather buy from his much more chill and soft spoken competitor. At hearing this news the idiot totally flipped out yelling and screaming at me and trying to force me to buy from him. I was so annoyed I just looked at him and said "listen dude you just lost a customer, you are wayyy to aggressive and I will never buy from you again. Ever!" As I turned and walked away he pulled out a switchblade and started waiving it around and chasing me with it, (in broad daylight mind you.) It was so fucking scary and fucked up, cuz there were so many people around and nobody even blinked an eye. I remember thinking to myself, how ironic it would be if I had survived crime ridden Moscow only to be murdered in Berlin three days later! I escaped unscathed thankfully but I avoided the hasenheide for a while after that and now I never buy from the Arab or Turkish guys; gangs really. So yeah I guess I'm a racial profiler. Does that make me a racist or simply rational? Sometimes you have to just learn from your experiences. I'll choose to buy from a family of chilled out Jamaican Rasta men over a feuding gang of Turkish thugs any day. Besides here in Berlin, so many of the latter are junkies and totally desperate for their next fix. Lesson learned; it's probably best to avoid pissing off a deprived junky, probably also as I've learned in the unrelated past, it's not such a good idea to trust them either... Lucky for me I discovered later that if you go just a little bit further into the park and up the slope a bit, there is a group of about ten or so Jamaican guys sitting under the trees playing guitar and smoking joints. They are there every day except when it rains. They take turns selling the weed and they never fight over customers. They must all just split the profits at the end of the day. That way they can all just relax and smoke weed most of the day instead of competing with each other for customers. My new Jamaican boys take a more socialist approach. Anyway they are totally cool and chilled and I've never had any drama with them. The Turkish guys still always try and sell to me whenever I go to into the park and I take so much pleasure in sailing past them on my bike without so much as a nod and taking my business elsewhere. mm

Money & Murder

Post Moscow Melancholy

Sitting On A Time Bomb

Neon Crux

Solar Boy

The One & Only, Michael Rade

Step Off My Steez!

I Have A Problem

Gotta Branch Out

Light Up My Box!

Warrior

Misery Is A Butterfly

Towards the end of June, in Berlin, there is a big annual street festival in Schoeneberg. It's a big boozy queer extravaganza. I wasn't able to go last year because I was at the Venice Art Biennale with Fabio, so I was really excited to check it out this year. I rode my bike over from Kreuzberg around noon and began to wander the crowded streets. It was such a beautiful day and all the queens of Berlin were out on the street, not just the queers either, I saw so many straight couples and families in the mix as well. Every bar in the neighborhood had its own tent on the street and there were lots of interesting, offbeat little booths and shops. As I was walking down Eisenacher Strasse I spotted my old roommate/fiance Patrick (whom I affectionately refer to as simply Trish.) Trish was in her regular getup sitting in a chair next to her veery unique art installation, wearing the ever present leather mask and doing a sensational job of creeping out all the passersby. Trish and I haven't really been on speaking terms since our big blowout fight last march when she sent my drunk ass packing hahaha, but being the kind and forgiving soul that I am, I decided to simply let bygones be bygones and I went over and said hello to her. I could tell Trish was a bit concerned (I did have a drink in my hand at the time and I won't damn lie; I have been known to strike without warning!) But after a few minutes she realized that I meant no harm and had long since abandoned any ill feelings that I may have harbored towards her. We sat and chatted for a while catching up on the goings on of each others lives. I told her about Moscow and all of that shadiness and she told me about her new job as a stripper ;) and all the new projects she's working on, (okay okay, she's not really a stripper, but she might as damn well be, Trish has a bangin body, for a tranny!:) It was really funny to see peoples reactions to the us; being as we were two of the biggest freaks on the block, hahaha.. Coincidentally the next booth over from Trish was occupied by the queer shaman! He was actually one of the reasons why I really wanted to come to the street festival this year, I had met him online about a year or so ago and we had been chatting periodically since then. He told me that he was going to have a booth at the Street Festival this year and that I should stop by and say hello. After realizing who he was, I waited for a while to see if he would recognize me from my picture online. He never did (or at least didn't act like he did.) So after a few drinks, I finally introduced myself to him and he was really such a gentle and nice man. He offered me a free reading and of course I accepted. He then placed his feathered native american looking shamans cap on his head and began feverishly drawing nonsensical circles on a sheet of clean white paper. That went on for about five minutes, until finally he stopped. He then told me (in so many words) that I am too lazy, (I agreed wholeheartedly) but he also said that if I were to undertake something, some sort of project, then it would be an assured success. That's really the gist of what he told me, but the way he delivered the message to me had me floored. He was so earnest in his instruction and it left me altogether astonished. After I left his booth, Trish asked me what happened. I told her the story and she paused for a moment wearing a sincere frown. Trish then told me that earlier that day while they were setting up their booths next to each other, Trish had asked the shaman if he would read her fortune. He agreed and when they sat down, he put his feathered seers cap on and took out a clean sheet of paper and drew one simple line across the sheet. He then removed his feathered cap and told Trish in a very matter of fact tone, "that is all I see." No explanation was needed. Shady, or simply honest? I'll let you be the judge...

The Queer Shaman

Drugs R Bad

Mistress Patricia

Numerology

Funkturm

Hangin Out @ The Strasse Fest

Just One Of The Many Reasons Why I L O V E YouTube

Kreuzberg Canal

Treptower Sculpture

We Were Meant To Be Together

Erica Lookalike

We Strike W/Out Warning

Early July saw the opening of my friend Michael's new gallery space - STYX project space. I first met Michael back in March at one of those spoken word literary events that Travis & Mario dragged me to. (haha much to the chagrin, (I think) of the hostess Lady Gaby) Actually, I think I broke one of her windows during one of my um "episodes" that night so I really can't blame her... Whatever, I'm just giving these Berlin children a little dose of some much needed realness anywayz. So that's the night I first met Michael. Actually, I don't think we really talked to each other much that night, although I would doubtful remember if we did, being as I was totally wasted. But he made an appearance/impression in my digital camera the next morning. Its funny you know, all too often I find myself piecing together the goings on of the previous night through the images retrieved from my trusty little camera. Michael was still living in London at that time and was just in Berlin for the weekend. He ended up moving here a month or so later and I met him again at one of Travis & Mario's house parties. He said he would help me fix my computer which was giving me some trouble at the time. I was very surprised, when he actually followed through and called me the next day. We started hanging out quite a bit after that. At that time he was still sort of homeless sleeping on friends couches, while he searched for his own place. He ended up finding an amazing space in an old abandoned brewery/factory in Friedrichshain. The building he lives in is fucking amazing. It's been taken over completely by a horde of fantastic creative souls. They are always holding some kind of party or art opening every week it seems. Really to be completely honest some of the best art that I've see in Berlin so far has been at the artist studios and galleries that are housed there. The atmosphere is so bohemian, it's such a vision. Michael wasted no time in preparing the space for his summer gallery project and with a little paint and varnish, it shaped up to be quite an impressive little art gallery. For the opening he had two painters, Melissa Frost and Jon Campbell. Melissa also contributed a sound installation, and the closing reception featured the performance artist Femme Facade. All the artists involved were really amazing. I was surprised also to see my friend Detlev, of the Schwules Museum make an appearance, (that queen is everywhere, I swear.)

STYX Project Opening

She's Got "The Look"

Friedrichshain Mural

Femme Facade Performance (one)

Universal Law

London-Berlin-Berlin-London

Young Love

Femme Facade Performance (two)

We Were Born This Way.

Rare Captive Occurrence

"This Isn't Meals On Wheels"

A M E R I C A

Around the same time as the STYX opening, I went with Travis, Mario & Michael to an art opening at Peres Projects. When we arrived we ran into a good friend of Travis & Mario's; the American soul/rockstar extraordinaire Snax. It was such an odd feeling to be at an art opening in a foreign country where it seemed like more than half of the people there were American expats. Peres Projects also operates a space in Los Angeles, so that might be why so many expats came out, who damn knows. My fabulous friend Miss Nina Phyxion, from my good ol' L.A. club kid days, had been asking me recently if I had met her friend Javier Peres here in Berlin. It wasn't until I came to the opening at Peres Projects that I put two and two together and realized who Nina was talking about, (I swear I can be so fucking clueless sometimes.) Her friend Javier represents my filmmaker/artist friend Bruce LaBruce and also the glamorous "it boy" artstar Terrence Koh, whom I had the opportunity to hang out with at Bruce's Otto; or, Up With Dead People premiere and after party at the Sundance Film Festival this past January. It's such a small (art) world, I swear everybody knows everybody. It's interesting though, you know cuz Los Angeles is fast gaining a reputation as an important international art capital. She's giving New York a run for her money these days. I actually sort of miss Los Angeles in a weird way, I used to have so much fun there. Even after I moved away and was living in New York, I would still come back to L.A. for a few weeks out of the year and hang out with my little posse of crazed L.A. club kids. There were about five of us back then: Andrew, Nina, Sausages (anthony) & the two Brian's; myself and Brian Lichtenberg. Sadly, I don't get to see much of my old L.A. friends these days, now that I am living in Europe, although I should go visit Andrew now that he's living in Paris. Nina & Brian are still ruling fiercely in the L.A. fashion/art scene. I have no idea what became of Sausages, last I heard she was bumpin pussies with some amish reality star, hahaha. Anyhook, back in those days I had a sort of, um "mentor" named Gary, who has a big house with a pool, up Coldwater Canyon that I used to stay at while I was in town. Gary directed one of my favorite childhood movies "Masters Of The Universe." haha, (yes, yes, as a child of the eighties, I was of course in love with He-Man, and um, I was also pretty tight with She-Ra and her crew as well!) Anyway, as a kid, I loved the live action movie version as well. Honestly I don't know how that shit got overlooked at the Oscars, I mean really now!!! Gary was also good friends with another gay film director friend of mine named Bryan Singer (X-Men, Apt Pupil, Usual Suspects..) Gary was always out of town on business, sometimes for weeks at a time and my friends and I would always throw such big parties at his house while he was gone. It was always tough though, because of our mutual friends. We always worried that Bryan would hear about the parties and then tell Gary, but luckily for us Bryan was pretty cool about it and never said anything to Gary (actually I think he may even have shown up to one or two of them!) I'll never forget during one trip, my friend Alex Whitney had flown in from New York for the weekend for one of these parties. I was stupid enough to let Alex get in the car with Miss Snausages (who was a notorious & habitual tweaker) Homegirl was a speed freak in more ways than damn one. I'm not claiming to be an ace behind the wheel or anything, quite the opposite in fact, but I have never been so afraid driving with someone in all my life. Going ninety miles per hour and darting in and out of traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway was fucking more than petrifying! (so yeah you might say she had the need for speed! haha.) That night on our way up to the party, Nina and I drove past the Beverly Hills Hotel and saw what looked to be a very serious if not fatal car accident. We didn't realize it at the time but the unrecognizable car that was literally wrapped around a palm tree on in front on the Beverly Hills Hotel on Sunset Boulevard was in fact Sausages car. I will never understand how it is that both he and Alex walked away from that accident without so much as a scratch! It's probably the closest thing to a miracle that I have ever witnessed in my life. I was so pissed at Sausages after that. Having to call the waspy uptight Whitney family to inform them that their son was in the hospital, or worse; dead, would not have been such an easy call for me to make, (especially since they didn't even know Alex was in Los Angeles.) So let that be a lesson kids. Avoid drugging and driving, instead give dancing and dosing a try! Safety first!

Has It Really Been Two Decades?

The Coolest Bitch In The Club!

Cuttin A Rug W/ Snaxine!

Santogold

Best Not Fuck With Me & My Crew...

Cuz We're Tuff City Kids!

We Fuck Bitches Up

& Get Fucked Up...

The Second Coolest Bitch In The Club

F I O N A

Too Cool 4 School (& Monster Ronson's)

Remember LEGOS?

Speaking of Floss Angeles and glamorous Floss Angelites, A few weeks ago, I met up for a night of dancing (&dosing) at London Calling with Travis, Mario and the oh so legendary L.A. drag queen/writer/performance artist, Miss Vaginal Davis. I don't hang out with her that often but when I do she always leaves me craving for more of her charming wit and delicious gossip. She is such a riot! Travis is quite close friends with her, so I usually see her at his house parties; but actually that isn't how I first met her. haha I'm laughing out loud now cuz this story is so very, um.. "special." When I first moved to Berlin last year, I started out staying in Schoeneberg, the main gay area of Berlin. I used to hang out sometimes at this sorta, (ok very) seedy leather bar around the corner from my friends apartment called Scheune (what can I say, I shun mediocrity.) I prefer realness over bitchy queens any day of the week. Anygay I was there hanging out in the back of the bar drinking my beer and chatting up some random dude, when all of a sudden I heard some American queen carrying on with someone at the bar, bitch was pretty much holding court (scepter in hand of coeurse.) Anyone who has met Vaginal Davis knows that girlfriend has one of those voices that just carry across the entire room, in fact that shit is probably reverberating across the globe as I write this damn sentence. That's a voice that just totally draws you in and commands your attention! I decided that I would go to take a piss first and then go over and introduce myself to this fierce diva. When I walked into the bathroom, I found what some of you might consider to be a bit shocking. There was the cutest little old man ever (and when I say little I mean little, we're talking like 4'10") I recognized him from around the "gayborhood." He is easily around 80 years old and he was crouched down in his usual spot next to the mens urinal waiting in desperate hopes that someone might have the common decency to oblige him by quenching his unrelenting thirst. (only in berlin kids) But instead of accommodating his unorthodox desires, I pulled him up and gave him a big hug. How could I not? He was so damn cute and sad and pathetic. Perhaps I saw a bit of myself in him. Sexuality absolutely fascinates me. How a person is born into this world and then ends up eighty years later in a sleazy leather bar begging strangers for their piss? How does that happen? Maybe he just likes it? Or perhaps it is simply the product of raising gay children in a society which incessantly teaches them that they are worthless human beings and exist only to be reviled, with humiliation commonplace. Humiliation is a very familiar reality to most queer youths and oddly, is perhaps clung to with a sense of nostalgia by some. Okay, sociological/psychological theories aside, make no mistake, I pass no judgement. How could I? I am far from perfect and besides, what the fuck is perfect anyways? I also understand that this is behavior that is by no means exclusive to gays. I just find it extremely fascinating and I was determined (in my drunken stupor) to get to the bottom of it. I should seriously go back to school and study sociology or psychology! So I began asking how old he was when he had his first sexual experience with piss. He told me it was while he was in the military (a youthful hazing ritual gone terribly wrong/right?) He began to recant his experiences fighting on the Nazi side of WWII. I had my arm around this sweet soft spoken old man as I sat on a bench outside the bathroom listening to him talk about the war. Just as I was asking him a question, suddenly Vaginal Davis walked in mid-sentence. Upon hearing my American accent she introduced herself and asked where I was from and what I was doing in Berlin etc.. After a while she and I were engrossed in conversation and my little geriatric buddy slipped away and resumed his crouched position next to the urinal. Upon seeing this, Vag chuckled a bit to herself and I began to explain to her that my little elderly friend had had me absolutely gripped in fascination; telling me all about his (pis)adventures in the second world war.. I told her about how I have seen this same sweet old man pay Turkish hustlers ten euros and then go into that little corner park with them on Eisenacher Strasse & Fuggertrasse, so they could slap, piss and spit in his face! Even though he obviously loves it and gets off on the humiliation. I can't help but feel a bit protective of him, I mean the dude is fucking eighty for fuck sake! What if those fools hit him too hard or something? Actually I think Miss Davis was quite amused by the whole situation, haha, Although she proceded to change the subject, telling me about how she had just relocated to Berlin from Los Angeles a few months before. She was absolutely shocked that I had never visited her website www.vaginaldavis.com (ya better believe I was on that site the very next day reading her fabulous blog!) We sat at the back of the bar sipping our drinks like two glamorous lady genders hahaha.. We gossiped about people we both know in Hollywood and of course we also gossiped about those who we don't know either:) She told me a really funny story about how a friend of hers used to work at some fancy hotel in Beverly Hills (I think it was the Beverly Wilshire) anyway, she said that in the early nineties Tom Cruise used to rent a room there under an alias and then hire latino hustlers to come up to the darkened room where a very paranoid Tom was waiting (in the closet) puns intended! The hustlers would go inside the pitch black closet, lay waste to his sphincter and then leave, no words exchanged, no faces seen, total anonymity. According to Vag, Tom wasn't exactly the cleanest kid on the block either. Apparently the closet floor required professional cleaning in order to rid itself of a certain unpleasant odor! I was cracking up laughing, I love that kind of gossip! You know the type where your almost 99% certain that it's actually true? It's all in the source, honey and bitch practically knows everyone in Hollywood, so Vag is certainly a good source. She's a damn source-erous!! Pure magic and absolute hilarity...

Light Spiral

We Have Our Own Language...

We Live Here

I'm Content With What I have...

This Kiss Was WOW!!!

I Like Weed.

I Love Spunk.

"My Lip Gloss Be Poppin, My Lip Gloss Be Cool."

Daddy Long Legs

Bow Down Bitches!

Sparklerz...

Jesus (hearts) You!

While we're on the topic of larger than life African Americans who happen to have penises. I feel like I should shift a bit into the far more sordid realm of politics, and offer some of my own perspective regarding Barack Obama's historic candidacy for the U.S. presidency, and his decision to deliver a speech here in Berlin at the victory column on July 24th. Rather presumptuous, don't you think? First of all let me start off by saying that I agree with almost everything Obama says in his speeches, except for his health care plan (I preferred Hillary's more universal approach.) Also, Obama doesn't support complete marriage equality. He only supports civil unions. I myself have some rather radical views on marriage in general. I think that it is a dated institution, designed to enslave women and is quite unnecessary in todays society. It should be abolished for everyone. What if instead we tried educating/empowering/providing birth control freely to women (and men for that matter) rather than marrying/selling them off? cuz thats really what marriage amounts to anyway; it's a business contract. We should let women decide for themselves how, when and if they wish to reproduce. However if we must have marriage in our society then it should be completely equal for every human being, even in name and shouldn't pay any regard to either gender or sexual orientation. For the most part I agree with everything else Obama says. He definitely has some incredible speech writers working for him and he manages to deliver his speeches with a resounding eloquence that would put even the great Demosthenes to shame. However, skilled oration does not necessarily translate into an adept leader. He could in fact end up being quite the opposite. Adolf Hitler was also famous for being a great public speaker and I think we can all remember how that story ended. Okay Okay, so it's probably quite unfair to draw that kind of comparison at this stage in the game. Although one reason why we can't really make any comparisons at all when it comes to Obama is that there just really isn't all that much for him in the way of credentials. This is a man who has been on the national political scene for less than four years and now he wants to become our president? God, am I the only person who is able to see past the rhetoric? After all, words are just that. Where, I ask is the action, the results, the resume? Now some might argue that a fresh voice is exactly what the doctor ordered for Washington and perhaps that is true. I don't know, I suppose I get the sense that Obama is being groomed for this position but an unseen and elite few (perhaps they see him as the ultimate candidate to do their dirty work.) Yes, change indeed! I'm sorry but any candidate who constantly talks about "change" and yet remains a member of the CFR (council on foreign relations) is just a liar! Yes he might change things but I doubt it will be for the better, or in the long term interests of the average American for that matter. My mother used to tell me, "If it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is." Call me a cynic, but the fact of the matter is that the political system in Washington is so corrupted and has been for so long, that it would be virtually impossible for any one man to change it. Not even to mention that any time the American media attempts to shove something down our throats, (in this case Obama) I tend to become extremely wary of it. I just saw an interview on YouTube the other day with andother CFR member; Rupert Murdoch (aka the owner of NewsCorp/Fox News) and he was endorsing Obama! What the fuck does that tell you about the political system in America? To be perfectly honest, Obama's cult like followers creep me the fuck out. I dunno, I just don't get what all the hype is about. That being said he is certainly the lesser of the two evils, I think we can all agree that Obama is a much better option then his republican opponent John McCain. Secretly I was sort of hoping that Hillary Clinton would win the nomination, not that she is much different from Obama (save maybe her credentials for the job) lets face it though, she is CFR too. Fuck, they all are! Obama, Clinton and McCain all work for the same corrupt international banking cartels and all of them curiously remain snugly tucked in bed with the state of Israel. But Hillary Clinton has something that Obama and McCain simply do not have, and that something is a vagina! Sorry but I just trust a woman in power much more than I do a man. You might say that the notion of power corrupting, is blind to gender, and you would probably be right. But I already know that anyone seeking the office of president, who manages to make it past the primaries, has already long since been corrupted. The question is to what extent? I just think that in todays world, a woman in power would be more likely to "rule it with a soft glove" to quote the legendary Pepper Labeija; and yes I see the irony there :) Obama will win the presidency in November and after four years if he does everything that he said he would, I will be the first to eat my words. But I know that he won't, (they never do.) I simply do not trust him. He is just too good to be true. I also have to say that I hate that there is always some controversial theme that the media clings to in American presidential elections. Back in 2004 it was gay marriage. This time around it is race. Race should never be a factor at all, period. Don't get me wrong, I would love to see any minority win the presidency, as long as they were qualified. Anything but another rich, old, white, idiot, please! I hate to point this out, but with the relatively meagre resume and qualifications that Barack Obama holds, if he were a white man, charismatic or not, he would be laughed off the political stage in no time at all and that is a fact! And don't even try and come at me with those comparisons to JFK. The only thing those two share in common is that they are both elitists who went to Harvard. Yes, this is a race about race. Sadly, It is about color and not content. Originally I was supporting Ron Paul for president; old white dude or not, (he said he would abolish both the IRS and The Federal Reserve System, if elected.) Now that is some hardcore revolutionary shit! Even just to say it in public. Now that, my friends is some "change" that I can believe in. I don't even care that he's a pro lifer. After he dropped out of the race I switched to Ralph Nader, who doesn't have a shot in hell at winning, but for me it's more about supporting a movement (from the overtly fascist one party, I mean two party system in use today:) Then quite recently in fact, I heard about The Green Party candidate Cynthia McKinney, she is more than qualified for the job and gets and A+ for being an outspoken critic of the official 9-11 Commission Report. She is also an anti-war and civil rights activist; plus girlfriend made the news a couple years ago as a congress woman for punching a U.S Capital building security officer. Um, so yeah homegirl pretty much won my vote on that fact alone!

Berlin Victory Column

Obama, Yo Mama!

Lets Fucking Destroy Capitalism!

Fuck Yeah!

Three Down, Five To Go...

Zury

OBAMA-RAMA

ANARCHY ANARCHY ANARCHY

Sniff, Sniff, Flash, Flash

Don't Believe The Hype!

Corporate World Police Squad

I'm Too Short...

In the weeks leading up to to the Obama speech, I made the decision to stage a protest. However upon further investigation I learned that posters and signs were prohibited from the event, (which was paid for by the Obama campaign.) So instead I painted a T-shirt in big letters that read "CHANGE WE SHOULD BE SKEPTICAL OF" on the front and "MARRIAGE EQUALITY NOW" on the back. No one in Berlin and I mean no one wanted anything to do with any type of anti-Obama protest, (my friends included.) Even though it was really less an Obama protest than an appeal for public awareness. I get very uncomfortable when people stop asking questions and just blindly follow like sheep. My actions were merely an attempt to provoke some thought into this bizarre twenty first century political process; where candidates hold cult like political rallies on foreign soil. So on the day of the speech I decided to call goddamn Trish and see if she wanted to come with me. She agreed and we met up at her place and then walked over to the Tiergarten from the there. It was unbelievably crowded and I was starting to worry that we wouldn't make it past the security checkpoint in time for the speech. They said on the news that there was something like 200,000 people in attendance although i think that number might be somewhat exaggerated. Regardless it was an unbelievably teeming media circus and when Obama appeared on stage the masses erupted into deafening applause and cheers. Some of these idiots were already crying tears of joy, before their messiah even opened his mouth speak. I was too busy dry heaving to get in on that action. As he began his speech, Obama made several references to the city of Berlin and it's war torn history. Actually, and rather tellingly, he spoke a lot about war and alliances in general and the need to strengthen our tattered military ties for the future. He spoke of hope and of course change and pretty much gave us all the usual sound bites that those of you who live in America have the pleasure of hearing over and over and over, night after night on the evening news. He spoke of the destruction of the Berlin wall and that we must continue to break down walls and barriers which divide us around the globe. I suspect that if this hypocrite is elected to office, he won't be ordering his war criminal bedfellows in the Israeli regime to destroy their West Bank wall, which is still being constructed and due to be completed in 2010. Lets be honest, this whole; say one thing and do another theme is nothing new to politics. I know that. Often the truth is found only when you read between the lines. This little snippet of the Obama speech is a pretty good example...

"Will we acknowledge that there is no more powerful example than the one each of our nations projects to the world." ( "P R O J E C T S" being the key word here, just because you project something does not make it truth or reality.) "Will we reject torture and stand for the rule of law." (um, guantanamo, abu gharib, patriot act, habeas corpus anyone? If Obama shuts down guantanamo after he's elected, then I'll shut the fuck up, but I think we all know that is not ever going to happen.) "Will we welcome immigrants from different lands and shun discrimination aganist those who don't look like us or worship like we do and keep the promise of equality and opportunity for all of our people."( again what about complete marriage equality for lesbians and gays or equal opportunities/education for minorities or um equal salaries for women in the workplace?)

Mr. Obama already knows the answers to all of the questions he posed to us in Berlin and the answer to all of them is a resounding No! There are some of you who might label me a cynic and perhaps that is true to a certain extent. I mean, It all sounds nice and comforting to think that things could change but anyone who reads the newspapers and does a bit of research, knows that in reality the truth is very different and will likely remain so, regardless of who wins the election in November. Don't believe in all this hype, cuz that's all it is. Better to keep one leg firmly planted in skepticism while the other remains teetering in cautious hope. Overall I found his speech to be very articulate, what was really interesting though was to see just how utterly captivated and entranced his audience was. Trish, being the tall and graceful slender gender that she is, was kind enough let me take turns sitting on her shoulders during the speech so that I could get some good pictures of Obama and the immense crowd. When it was all over and most of the crowd began to disperse, my homegirl Trish had to retreat back to her boudoir and get ready for a hot date she had later on that night with one of her countless admirers, but I stuck around taking and posing for pictures. I even gave a couple of interviews to the hundreds of camera crews that were in attendance from the worldwide media. I gave one rather lengthy interview to some Hungarian channel and another less lengthy interview to MTV Europe (haha i sort of barged my way in onto that one in a drunken rant about my radical political views.) I also met and began discussing Obama's speech with an older German fellow who made some very interesting and very true observations about the speech. He said to me "I was in the audience when John F. Kennedy spoke at the Rathaus Schoeneberg here in Berlin in 1963 and I was in the audience when Ronald Reagan spoke at the Brandenburg Gate in 1987, Those men both spoke mostly of peace; while Obama spoke mostly of war." Very interesting I thought to myself. Is this simply the twenty-first century zeitgeist? Or is it perhaps an indication of what we have to look forward to? After finishing with my little political discourse and just as it was beginning to get dark, I met a photographer named George who kept following me around taking my picture (I was wearing a bit of a costume that day! hahaha) We ended up doing a bit more together than just a photo shoot, that night in the bushes of the Tiergarten park:) And the funny part is that George is from Nairobi. He is half German and half Kenyan. Damn, Two Men from Kenya in one night. I photographed the first one and the second photographed me.

Looking East

Sup, Bitches!

Elegance Has Wings

Naked Gerber Baby

Billy & Chester

GRAFRO

Gimme Some Man Power

Thanks Ben...

He-Man Wasn't My Only Childhood Crush

Glamour, Glitter And All The Like...

Nicole Ritchie's Bastard German Cousin...

SALTA

Last week I received an invitation to a party that Trish was throwing at her flat in Schoeneberg. She throws a summer cocktail party every year with all the who's who and what's what of Berlin's queer art scene in attendance. I didn't wanna go alone so I dragged a few of my friends to come along with me. My glamorous art connoisseur/real estate developer friend Eric was in town from London. So I called him up and asked if he'd like to come along to the party with Michael, Mario & I. So on the night of the party, we brought a couple bottles of wine with us and headed over to Trish's place. I have to say that in the; just over a year or so that I have known Trish, I have seen her undergo quite a drastic, transformation in terms of style. When I first met Trish, on that fateful morning when I climbed up onto her balcony drunk off my ass. Her apartment resembled that of an elderly widow, with it's shag carpet, mauve walls and dusty mismatched furniture, plants and art work.(I wont even get into her unspeakable "wall of fame.") After we had hung out a few times, I mentioned to Trish that she might try going for a more edgy, youthful look for her apartment. When she asked my advice on what she should do. I took a rather radical approach, never thinking for a minute that she would actually listen and take heed. I told her to get rid of it all. The carpet, plants, paintings & grandma furniture and to leave only her bed and her white couch, which I later covered in black marker, (showcasing the opening paragraph of Valerie Solanas' infamous S.C.U.M. Manifesto.) Then I said that if it were my place, I would paint the entire space white; ceiling, walls and floors. If there is one thing that I love about Trish, it's that when she gets an idea in her head she gets right to work and simply does it. She's not a talker, she's a doer! Within minutes we started moving all of her belongings and ancient heirloom relics downstairs to her basement storage unit. When we were finished with that, we immediately marched over to the paint store and bought a two big buckets of white paint. The next day when I came over Trish had painted her entire flat from top to bottom with the white paint. It looked so amazing and added so much light and clarity to the space. After all that, it was a blank canvas. When I moved in with Trish, after I returned from my Madrid trip a few weeks later, in late July of last year, I stayed in her little smaller side room and one day, while I was at the art supply store getting supplies for Aldo, my boss at the time. I bought a few cans of red, blue, yellow & silver spray paint for myself and began experimenting with some tags. While I was in Madrid, I was introduced to street tagging for the first time by some street kids that I met in Huertas. I began tagging the walls in my little bedroom and Trish soon followed suit, beginning a trend that continues to this day. Haha, when we would get into our big arguments, sometimes we wouldn't talk to each other at all, but instead communicate through our tags, it's so weird now that I look back on it, but what can I say we are far from normal! So anyways, it was really funny to be back in Trish's flat and see our troubled history plastered all over the walls in disses and insults for everyone to see. It made me realize that Trish and I are much better as friends. I respect her so much more now than I did when we were living together. But to be honest, when it comes right down to it, Trish is one of the sweetest, most sincere & unpretentious people that I have ever met in my life. So it comes as so surprise to me that she is adored by so many in people in the art scene here in Berlin. She exudes a childlike simplicity that is so attractive and endearing. Traits that are in stark contrast to the often jaded and cut throat personalities that are so commonplace in the contemporary art world. This was actually my first time attending one of Trish's parties and I met so many fabulous people, The celebrated photographer Henning Von Berg was there along with a few gallerists that I recognized from around town. I also had the chance to meet one of Germany's most famous living artists, Salome. Salome has shown his paintings in more than two-hundred exhibitions throughout a career spanning more than three decades, including a show at the Guggenheim Museum in New York. I sat fascinated, listening to him talk at length about his time living in New York and it's vibrant downtown, nineteen-eighties art scene. He has a studio just up the road from my flat in Kreuzberg and invited us to stop by sometime to see it. After a of couple hours my friends wanted to leave and so we headed out for a bar crawl in gay Schoeneberg. Trish's summer punch certainly packs a mean one, cuz before I knew it, I could barely walk. Somehow we managed to make it back to to Mario's flat in Moabit where I finally passed the fuck out, only to wake up the next morning with most of my body hair shaved off! I swear, my friends are SUCH bitches,hahaha!

Trish & Tenne

We Speak With Out Speaking

Where Is Paul America?

Marischka Will Kill YOU!

Triston D.R.U.G. Is Showing Berlin How It's Done.

Johannes Gets Me

F U C K I N G P R I C E L E S S

Thomas & (My Beauty), Erica!

Berlin Has The CUTEST Fucking Boys

Not EVERYTHING In Berlin Is New

Light Ribs

Kreuzberg Convent

Москва́ 6-9-8

2008-07-01T03:17:00.000-07:00

Where do I even begin? There is so much to cover for this entry. Moscow is fucking insane and amazing and scary and bizarre! I can't believe I almost ended up moving there last year and in the winter no less! I guess the best way I to approach this insanity is chronologically. I didn't really even decide to make this trip for sure until about a week before I left. My friends were literally begging me not to go. I think one of them even referred to it as a "suicide trip." So I wasn't sure if I was going to go or not. One day I was going and the next day I wasn't. I knew I needed at least a week to sort out my visa, so I waited until the absolute last minute to apply for one. I literally picked up my Russian visa the same day that my flight left. I had done all sorts of research online, leading up to my departure with regard to hotels and places to see and go out to at night. I had also been emailing with some other activists from Russia, including the organizer of the gay pride protest, Nikolai Alekseev. My flight from Berlin left at like 1:00 am on Thursday the 29th of May. I arrived to the airport a couple hours before and when I was going through immigration they detained me because apparently I had overstayed my visa by; get this, one hour! I arrived here to Berlin on February 28th on a tourist visa which allows me to stay for three months. Due to the fact that I haven't left Germany at all since I arrived, they had to detain me and I had to sign all these court papers admitting that I had overstayed. The whole ordeal took like an hour and I barely made my flight. I was literally the last person to board, they closed the doors like twenty seconds after I boarded the plane. The flight was about 3 hours long so we arrived to Moscow at like 5:00 am. After going through immigration and customs I caught a minibus to the nearest metro train station and rode into the city center. Moscow's Metro system is the busiest in the world (7 million passengers per day). You never have to wait more than a minute for a train, its just one after the other all day long and its usually always packed especially during the rush hours when they pack em in like sardines. The Metro itself should be one of the wonders of the world in my opinion. It's absolutely stunning, with its hundreds of mosaics, paintings, sculptures, decorative moldings and chandeliers. It dates back to the 1930's and 40's and was completed during the rule of Joseph Stalin. It's an incredible example of socialist artistic realism. Most average soviets didn't have cars at that time so in true socialist style, the government created something truly special for it's people. A literal palatial labyrinth of inspiration for the masses to enjoy on a daily basis. I suppose in a way it was just an attempt to share with the population, the weath and splendor that the russian czars had once enjoyed.

The first thing you notice when you arrive in Russia is that there is a certain sort of stoic demeanor on the faces of the people that is very palpable. Nothing phases these people it seems. I suppose enduring seventy years of communism will have that effect on a population. Although it seems a bit less gray and bleak nowadays when compared to my last visit to Russia eight years ago. The last time I was in Russia I was just nineteen. I spent the summer backpacking in europe alone. It was a very spur of the moment decision to even go to Moscow back then, it wasn't originally on my list of places to go that summer. I remember I was sitting in some trashy gay video bar in Budapest drinking beer and watching music videos when that song "go west" came on, I think it's a pet shop boys song. anyway it really got me thinking about the Soviet Union/Russia and how I had always wanted to go there since I was a kid staring at the maps that covered my bedroom wall. I'd always wanted to see Red Square and the world famous Hermitage museum in Saint Petersburg, So I decided right there at that bar in Budapest that I would make my way to Russia and so thats exactly what I did. I came in overland on a train from Helsinki about two weeks later. I remember being so amazed. It was as if I had stepped into a new world. Everything seemed so new and different to me back then. I adored Saint Petersburg but I remember being incredibly intimidated by Moscow and I was very ready to leave after spending just one week there. This time however I didn't feel intimidated at all, though now in retrospect perhaps I should have. I suppose eight years and sixty some odd countries later causes the intimidation factor to reduce significantly because for the most part I really enjoyed Russia this time, even though the language barrier was still a bit daunting. I love the sound of it though and I think the written cyrillic script is really beautiful. It's funny you know a few weeks ago I saw something online, it was one of those moving images with several frames, it was an image of a dancer doing a pirouette (or a spin or whatever the hell they're called). The image would rotate either clockwise or counter clockwise, depending on whether you were a person who uses their left brain or their right brain. I've copy and pasted the explanation below...

If you see the image turning clockwise, then you use more of the right side of the brain and vice versa.

Most of us would see the dancer turning anti-clockwise though you can try to focus and change the direction; see if you can do it.

What side of your brain do you use?

LEFT BRAIN FUNCTIONS
uses logic
detail oriented
facts rule
words and language
present and past
math and science
can comprehend
knowing
acknowledges
order/pattern perception
knows object name
reality based
forms strategies
practical
safe

RIGHT BRAIN FUNCTIONS
uses feeling
"big picture" oriented
imagination rules
symbols and images
present and future
philosophy & religion
can "get it" (i.e. meaning)
believes
appreciates
spatial perception
knows object function
fantasy based
presents possibilities
impetuous
risk taking

When I look at this image it turns clockwise, which means that I use the right side of my brain and therefore have an easier time learning and understanding symbols and images as opposed to words and language. To me this serves as a perfect explanation as to why I have such difficulty learning new languages, where as other people I know have the ability to pick up on them so quickly. However both times that I was in Russia I taught myself to read the cyrillic alphabet within a week. Knowing the meaning of the words I was reading is a different story, but it made things like reading the map and being able to pronounce the words I was reading correctly quite easy for me. It's not just symbols either, I can remember the face of someone I met ten years ago but ask me to remember the name of someone I spent an hour with at the bar the night before and I'm often times at a loss (though I can probably lay some of the blame for that on weed) Anyway I suppose thats why I am drawn to visual arts like film, photography and fashion.

Speaking of which the fashion in Moscow is kind of amazing. There are two types of people (usually woman); The rich oligarchs who wear labels like Dior and Dolce & Gabbana and look amazing in clothes that the rest of the population couldn't dream of being able to afford and then there are the regular poor folks who wear sort of generic nineteen forties and fifties looking clothes and they look equally amazing and I don't think they even realize it. I swear like ninety percent of woman in Russia wear high heels everyday, even the young girls. We are talking serious stilettos! I don't know how they do it, it must be so painful. Russia strikes me as the type of country where women are very objectified. All one has to do is look at some of the ad campaigns around the city to draw that conclusion. That and I'm sorry but any time you go somewhere and see twelve year old girls traipsing around the city in hooker heels, you know that's the type of mentality your dealing with. They say it's a mans world but Russia takes that notion to the extreme. One night while I was walking home from a restaurant past an archway I heard a couple arguing. As I peered into the driveway a saw a big muscular man backhand his wife/girlfriend hard across her face, sending her flying to the ground. I paused for a moment shocked before screaming at him in english to leave her the fuck alone. They both started yelling at me angrily in Russian (probably telling me to mind my own fucking business) who knows, maybe he was her pimp. I felt so bad for the woman, but what could I do? Getting involved would have been useless. She obviously didn't want my help and the cops in Russia don't give a shit (more on that later). Anyway, getting back to my first day in Moscow... I soon found out that all of the information I had obtained online was very out of date. The hotel I had planned to stay at was charging like 70 euros a night instead of the 20$ listed online, and my plan b hotel across the street from Kievskaya Station had been demolished and there is a big megaplex there now. Other than that one new megaplex, I really didn't notice many big new buildings. Moscow looked and felt pretty much the same as the last time I was there. The only really big changes I noticed were that a lot more people spoke english, there were alot more expensive german cars rollin down the streets oh and the prices. The prices were much much higher; like three times higher. Moscow is mad expensive for real and with little substance to back up the exorbitant prices, (thank you oligarchs for raping the country of it's resources and then sending all the cash to swiss banks!) After searching all morning for a cheap hotel, I finally decided to stay at a hostel. I ended up finding a bed at the Trans-Siberian Hostel near to the Kurkskaya Metro. I slept on a bunk bed with eight roommates. It was ruff.

I swore I'd never stay at a hostel again after my experiences in San Francisco earlier this year, but this time I really had no choice. It was the only affordable option available to me. I slept all afternoon my first day in Moscow and then went out. It gets doesn't get dark until quite late at this time of year in Moscow. I went to this park ten minutes walking from my hostel called Nitai Gorod and just hung out there drinking a few beers and people watching. Nitai Gorod is apparently sort of a meeting place for Moscow gays, but It didn't really seem like it that much to me. After it got dark, I headed over a gay club called Three Monkey's. I had been there before in 2000 but it was in a different location at that time. The new venue is much bigger and nicer. I met an American guy from Texas and his Russian boyfriend. We spent the evening at a corner table deeply engrossed in conversation. We talked mostly about politics, and travel. They were really funny and invited me to come and visit them in Houston. I walked back to my hostel when it started to get light at around 4:30. The next afternoon was spent wandering around Moscow taking pictures, I took so many photos of the most random things that I thought were cool looking. I'm obsessed with cyrillic, This may sound crazy but to me there is something sort of liberating about not being able to understand any aspect of a language at all. After all my senses were already being bombarded by everything else. That evening while I was walking down the street on my way out to a club, The police stopped me, for a routine document check. When I told them my passport was at my hostel they insisted that I come with them to the police station. I said no. There were three of them. The young one was the only one who spoke any english. I demanded to know what my crime was and made a huge fuss about how they were wasting their time. I made clear to them that I was not a criminal and that they should really be directing their attention to the murderers and rapists that plague the city. I lied telling them that I was a reporter for a magazine in America and that I would immediately like to contact the American Consulate so as to report this horrible injustice (as if the american consulate would even care! they'd be like tough luck kid! I think we can all remember how the U.S. refused to even fly their own citizens home. you know? The one who lost EVERYTHING in the south asian tsunami back in 2004) I tried to make myself sound all important and shit (hahaha such lies) But more than anything I acted completely fearless almost to the point of arrogance, as if their authority didn't frighten me one bit. I think they are used to people respecting their authority and kissing their ass. If I have learned anything over the years it is that people in positions of power regardless the level, prey primarily on the fear of their subjects (almost as if they think that if a person shows fear then they must be guilty of something) I think they're trained to induce fear. After all what is power without fear? I told them that they were welcome to follow me to my hostel so that I could prove everything to them. I then I looked them straight in the eyes and asked for all of their badge numbers. They agreed to follow me to my hostel which I said was just three blocks away (more lies) I'm sure they thought it was a nice hotel haha rather than some grubby dorm. (I think they were waiting for a bribe from a western tourist that would most certainly never come) anyway after about 5 or 6 blocks they gave up on me thankfully and let me go. It was sort of funny because after walking with them for a few minutes, leading the way to my hostel, all of a sudden I turned around and they were gone. haha, saving face is so important to these fascist goons.

I felt so vindicated after that little brush with authority and used the resulting confidence to press my way up into some lame hipster club without paying, (cuz im soooo important ya'll!!) Actions and body language transcend language, they speak far louder than words. At the club that night I met this really sweet gay boy named Alex and some older dude he was with whose name I can't damn remember. I do remember that Alex's last name was Alekseev, the same last name as Nicholai, the activist/pride organizer who I had been emailing with for the past month. I had not heard from him in almost a week and was a bit worried because I still had not determined the exact time and location of the protest which was scheduled for the next day. When I asked Alex if he new Nicholai he said he had heard of him and that most Russian gays don't like him because he is always stirring up controversy. That's exactly the sentiment I received from most gays who I told about the purpose of my trip. They all say things like, we are happy here in Russia why are you trying to stir up public anger and make things more dangerous for us. They are scared about a backlash against the gays in Moscow who are now at best merely tolerated. I can't blame them though because they have never known the true meaning of freedom of speech and expression. I'm sure it wasn't easy for the people who started the stonewall riots either. I made sure to make my opinion known as well. We cannot settle for second best when it comes to human rights. If we do we simply render ourselves indefinite second class citizens and that is absolutely unacceptable. I told him that brave Russians like Nicholai, though perhaps reviled by some now, will be revered and respected years from now for being pioneers for human rights in Russia and for putting their own lives and freedom on the line for a just cause. Alex then told me that he had heard from someone that Nicholai and a few other Russian activists had been jailed last week by the authorities. I took this as a perfectly plausible explanation for why I had not heard from Nicholai in the over a week. The following morning was the day of the protest. I rose early (10am) haha thats early for me! I took the metro over to Tverskaya in central Moscow to city hall (the offices of Moscow's ignorant homophobic mayor Yuri Luzhkov) I arrived there at around 11:30 and waited almost two hours, the last I had heard from the organizers was that the protest would begin there at mid-day. Well despite a somewhat elevated police presence, I was the only one who was there. I was sure now that the the Russian activists indeed must have been arrested. Disapointed and feeling a bit like the whole trip will now have been a big waste of my time and money. I sat down and tried to weigh out the pros and cons. I had a big problem, I had already been in Moscow for three days and had spent half the money I brought with me. I knew that I would not be able to afford to stay in the city for the entire two weeks I had originally planned. So I walked over to the Aeroflot offices and paid the 50 euros to change my date of departure. Even though I would have loved to stay for two weeks, one week in Moscow would have to suffice. After changing my ticket, I hung out in Red Square for a bit I bought a really cool Soviet military cap. It looks sorta like what a pilot might wear but now people are telling me it's the hat that the Soviet military tank drivers wore, either way it's my new favourite hat! Later on after an afternoon nap, I went out to a crazy lesbian bar in Tverskaya called 12 Volt. I was having a veery hardcoeur legendary kiki with all the ferocious ladies of Moscow and lemme letcha know it was a very boozy dance extravaganza. At one point some drunken butch gender bender attempted to pick me up over her shoulder and spin around with me. The dumb ass drunk bitch collapsed under my weight and knocked over some other girl. The other girl got up and went on a spazz attack, but she targeted me instead of the idiot girl whose fault it was. typical. It was kinda tense up in the club for a while but everything was cool once I apologized for us both. Later that night, I ended up meeting some crazy militant dyke in army fatigues named Masha. We left the club together and bought more beer. We then wandered the streets of central Moscow and ended up staging a protest of our own in Red Square drunkenly chanting exactly what, I can't even recall. We met Two sweet Russian boys who invited us to join them for drinks (@9am mind you!). We went to another bar and these boys were so cool, I spent the next hour listening to them talk about Egypt. It was so fascinating and now I've decided that I must go to Egypt. These boys were the perfect example of how kind and generous Russians can be. Though I have to say they were less than impressed with my coarse lesbian companion. But my homegirl knew where my loyalties lied. We said our goodbyes to the boys and Masha and I headed for the Metro where we brought the party into the train car. Such the odd couple. We were carrying on and swinging around the train car like crazed monkey's. My biggest accomplishment of the night was making a few of those stoic Muscovite commuters on the train actually crack a smile!

I slept most of the day Sunday, afterall I didn't get home until damn near noon thanks to all that early morning street boozing! After dinner (breakfast:) on Sunday night I went out to a Propaganda. Propaganda is a club that I had been hearing about for years. It's sort of famous the world over. So they host a gay night every week on Sunday night. When I arrived around 11pm it seemed more like a nice restaurant than a club. I sat and had a Mojito at the bar. then wandered around the club a bit. Finally I found a seat and sat there waiting until they cleared the dancefloor of all the tables and chairs. As I was sitting there, I heard a table of about five people speaking english in the next booth over from me. It was obvious they thought that I was Russian and were talking about me haha, it wasn;t anything rude really but still I waited and listened to what they were saying for a few minutes, before Introducing myself in my slangy american tongue. After the initial embarrassing shock dissipated from their faces they asked me what I was doing in Moscow. I told them I had come for a human rights protest that had never come to fruition. They then explained to me that they were a crew of documentary filmmakers from Vancouver, Canada who were there for the same purpose. I told them that I tried to go to the protest the day before but nobody was there. They then informed me that in the days leading up to the event, the date and time had changed like five times in order to evade the police. They said that they had just come from the protest earlier that afternoon. I was devastated. To think I was here in Moscow and missed the protest. It was so frustrating. They said it was a very small event that took place at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory (so appropriate considering the genius, nineteenth-century, russian composer/national hero was in fact homosexual.) There was also a sort of decoy event staged at the same time at city hall to draw all the right wing skinheads and orthodox religious fanatics away from the actual event. They said the date and time were revealed only hours before. I was sort of impressed at how "in the know" these Canadian queers were. I told them that I had been emailing with Nicholai Alekseev but hadn't heard from him in over a week. They told me that he was keeping a really low profile with a few other prominent Russian activists and since just after the event earlier that day they have all been holed up in a suburban Moscow apartment with the police surrounding the building. They said that the police had shut off all the phones and electricity to the apartment and that they were all sort of barricaded in there. Ken Coolen the director of Vancouver pride went on to tell me that the police were trying to pin the activists on false drug charges in order to silence them all with ten year sentences in a Siberian Gulag. I suddenly felt so much more respect for Nicholai. The man is literally putting his life on the line for human rights and equality. Ken told me I should check out the website for their documentary which is all about the politics of gay pride around the world. The title of their documentary is "Beyond Gay - The Politics of Pride" website is www.biggaymovie.com check it out. Such amazing brave people. Such important work. We sat and chatted and had a few drinks, I was really glad to have met them. Once the club really started getting going they left and I took to the dance floor. The music at Propaganda is world class. It sort of reminded me of Twilo in New York, so you can imagine how excited I was when I told someone that and they informed me that the DJ actually used to spin at Twilo quite often. This was of course before the Giuliani/Bloomberg fascists took over and all but ruined New York. I went up to the DJ booth and asked the DJ if he new Jora from Twilo. He said yes and that he was living there in Moscow and was actually at Propaganda last week. I couldn't believe it. How full circle would it have been to have run into the infamous RMSD in Moscow? My friend Adam in New York would be living for this shit. Anyway I had such a blast that night cutting it up with all the queens of Moscow. When I left the club I was in such a good mood. It was like the highlight of the trip. I was elated. As I made my way walking back to the hostel, I stopped for a moment and just enjoyed that peaceful time of the morning when its light out but still too early to see many people out on the street.

In Moscow every few blocks it seems (at least in the area where I was staying) there are little empty lots which sort of double as green space with trees and dirt and what not, they are not really what I would consider parks (no benches, grass or playgrounds.) There was one of these bleak little "green areas" on the corner lot right across from my hostel with a little path that you can cut through. While I was walking through it that beautiful sunny morning, I noticed something peculiar. I saw what looked like a homeless person sprawled out on her back in the middle of the pathway. It was odd because she seemed to be laying in a dark muddy puddle. As I got closer I soon realized that that muddy dark puddle was not in fact mud but had a dark reddish hue. It was a pool of blood. I ran up to her to see if she needed help. It was then that I realized that this woman was in fact dead stabbed several times with her throat slit and lifeless eyes peering out into nothingness. Just then I heard men yelling. It was the police about 50 meters away parked on the street,(perhaps waiting for the morgue to arrive.) They were motioning and yelling at me in Russian to move away from the body and to keep moving. I had stumbled across the scene of a brutal murder! I turned pale with shock and disgust. As I crossed the street to my hostel doorway, I took a minute to sit on the curb in a feeble attempt to gather my uncontainable thoughts. I have seen some fucked up shit in my life, (the twin towers collapsing in new york, ten year old girls being pimped out on the streets of phnom penh, a beggar in mumbai molesting his own infant son in public on the street, a man in missouri shooting the family dog in the head in as his two young sons screamed in terror.) But I have never ever in my life seen a dead body let alone slashed up and covered in blood and so close up. It was shocking and disturbing beyond what words can even describe. The image of her helpless, lifeless body lying in a pool of dark red blood is ingrained in my memory forever. The experience of literally staring death in the face made me really thankful to be me, to be alive. When you see a lifeless, colorless body like that It just seems so final. Your not the same. As I entered the hushed hostel early that morning and as I lay awake in my bunk my thoughts screaming inside my skull. It was like all of a sudden, I perceived everything. There was a high pitched tone ringing in my ears as if I were tuned into some strange and foreign frequency which was at odds with the rest of my surroundings. awareness? adrenaline overdose?? Whatever it was there was no way I was falling asleep in that condition. So I got dressed again and went down to the corner store and bought some more beers. After I walked back up the street to the scene of the gruesome crime. Both the police and the body were gone, but the pools of dark blood, someones bloody shirt and some bloody latex gloves remained. Call me morbid but I took pictures of the scene. Then I went down and sat on the steps of the orthodox church across the street (yeah this shit went down directly in front of a church) I sat there with my beer watching as the black crows squaked and congregated around this gruesome scene of death as if they were waiting for more. Just then a woman approached me looking very distraught. I offered her a beer and motioned for her to sit down. She offered me a cigarette and pulled out a small bottle of vodka, we shared swigs as she explained to me in her broken english me that she too could not sleep after discovering her neighbors body there in the park. She said that they were both from the Caucasus region and that she feared for her life in Moscow now more and more because there have been so many of these xenophobic/racist attacks this year and they have been on the rise. She said that while she didn't witness the actual murder she is almost sure it was perpetrated by one of the cities countless neo-nazi fascist, skinhead gangs. I tried to comfort her as she wept for her neighbors two young children, who will now grow up in a cruel and ruthless city without their mother. We sat there for an hour often times in complete silence and disbelief as we finished off the vodka and beer. Finally I gave her a big hug, wished her luck and said goodbye. I needed to be alone. I had just spent the last hour embracing a forty five year old woman who was a complete stranger to me. I felt so much sympathy for her because she is stuck in Russia and I'm not. She kept saying "it could have been me, it could have been me." So sad... Sufficiently boozed up on vodka I was finally able to pass out and get some sleep. The next day I was a wreck though, and everyone in the hostel noticed it. They were so shocked when I told them what I had seen, the one girl roommate from Helsinki made me promise to go and see a trauma counselor as soon as I got back to Berlin, I sort of joked with her saying that I've been needing one of those for the last five or six years. After all that insanity went down I was suddenly quite glad to be leaving Russia the following day. I spent my last day in Moscow sort of wandering around the city in a zombie like state. I have been having trouble falling asleep since all this happened.

On one these walks I met a really sweet and friendly Uzbek boy whose name I couldn't understand even though he told me like three times. But one thing that I can't forget is his sweet smile and kind eyes. We decided to go to Red Square and take some pictures of all the sites at night. While we were walking he pulled a pair of new socks out of his bag and gave them to me as a gift (so random but so endearing) not a minute later we were approached by three uniformed officers who demanded to see his documents, they didn't even say a word to me (probably due to my light complexion) Russia is sooo racist. When he didn't show them what they wanted they hauled him away into the back of their caged truck, he looked back at me and waved wearing a frightened sullen expression. One more day, I thought to my self. Now I was really ready to go home. I spent that night on youtube watching videos about the rise of racism and xenophobia in Russia and after learning some statistics was now almost positive that the murder scene that I saw the day before was committed by one of these far right wing gangs, many of which are secretly sanctioned by the Kremlin and powerful political parties within the Russian Duma. They need to create an enemy/scapegoat. Just as America has created Al Qaeda and the war on terror, the Russian government/media has demonized Chechens, Armenians, Georgians and other darker complected Caucasus and Central Asian peoples, actually anybody who is not of white, Russian European background has reason to fear living in Moscow. As I sat staring out the window while the plane took off bound for Berlin, I thought about how lucky I am to live in Berlin, a city where I can do and say what I want without living in constant fear of being harassed by the police. Even though we still have a long way to go in the west in reaching our ultimate goals of free love, free expression and human rights and equality for everyone, traveling to Russia and experiencing first hand the dire situation there really put things into perspective for me and ultimately I'm glad that I went there because I learned so much. I came across an interesting & relevant quote from a famous Russian writer. "Russia is not part of humanity, but exists only to teach it a lesson."

Saint Basil's Night

Smoking Relief

The Coolest Metro In The World

Moscow Street Scene

Sex And The City

Nitai Gorod Church

Gold Against The Green

Metro Corridor

New Money

And This Is What The Future Holds...

Perseverance Furthers

The Night Beat

Domestic Living

Worker Men Steez

After All...

Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier

The Cathedral Of Christ and The Kremlin

Kremlin Crow

One Of The Seven Sisters

Red Ball

Gorky Park

Graffiti Wall Off Old Arabat Street

Concerned Muse

Moscow Architecture

Lines & Light

Natasha

The One Drug I've Never Tried

Russian Biker Bitch

Impending Collapse

Red Tag

Alex Alekseev

Dandelion

Organic Turquoise

Ivan

Soviet Era Architecture

Masha In Camo

Then She Was Gone

12 Volt Girls

Saturate

Street Scene

One Of The Four

Clinging To The Past

Sky Wires

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Red Glasses @ 12 Volt

Red Square Bender

Graffiti, Girls

Metro Escalator

Moscow City Hall - Wheres The Protestors???

Green Wall Stencil

Tverskaya Car Tow

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Propaganda

Red Square Scaffolding

They Have Money To Spend

Agyness Superstar

Separating The Myth From The Truth

Armenian Rough Trade

Ghost

Dirty Glamour

Arrow Of Light

Picture Perfect

One Of The Sisters

Miss Gayla Sorenson

Painter In The Park

Shades Red Square Red

Plant Life

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Murder Scene

The Face Of Evil

Storm Drain

And The Rain Washes It All Away

New Day/Prophetic Graffiti

Orthodox Church

Wall Note

River & Sister

The East

Blue Splendor

Punk Not Dead

Kremlin Night

Influx Volum

On Guard

A Rare Mural

Disco Satin

Red Tag

Moscow Street

Rare Stencil

Russia License

Yet Another Church

Saint Basil's (Day)

Flight Home

Weed Is My Trauma Counselor

Disco Lights

Travis & Michael

Pocket Boozer

Outside @ NBI

Bronco Serves It Up Auf Deutch

Ich Liebe Berlin!

Hamburg 5-21-8

2008-07-01T03:12:00.000-07:00

So where did I leave off? It's funny how this little blog is turning out to be more of a personal diary than anything else. I don't leave much out it seems. a public personal diary! its sort of surprising how indifferent I am about it though, considering the vastness of the internet. I'm not sayin I'm an angel or whatevah but there are a lot of fucked up people out there (i know from personal experience) trust. Perfect example being last week when I ran into a pack of young turkish thugs on my way home from the club. I was just minding my own buisness stumbling home, when all of the sudden one of them seriously body checked me and called me a faggot in turkish. I couldn't believe it because usually Berlin feels really safe to me. Now it is possible that after they did that, I might have drunkenly uttered in turkish, a rather vile curse word directed at their mother. That shocked them. But they were even more shocked, I think, at the ferocity with which I fought back when four of them jumped me ten seconds later. Yeah I got beat down by a gang of turkish youths and um, it was actually kinda hot. Yeah you heard me! combat is like a sort of primal, adrenaline inducing, fight or flight situation to be in. and oddly I confuse that with arousal, haha. I'll tell you one thing though, I didn't look so hot the next morning covered in scrapes and bruises. I swear sometimes I think the world is trying to kill me, or perhaps me trying to kill my world. Thing is, it wasn't just the alcohol. Even if I were sober and someone made a homophobic comment like that, I would probably say something. It's because I simply can't stand homophobia, it infuriates me becaiuse it's just so fucking ignorant. Really now people, we're living in the twenty first century not the dark ages.

Right now I'm actually in the process of planning a trip to Moscow at the end of the month. I was there alone as a backpacker eight years ago and I'm planning to return to protest the decision of the mayor of Moscow to ban the cities gay pride celebration calling it "satanic". I saw that violent insanity on the BBC last year and vowed to go in 2008. I read that three or four prominent european mayors are going this year as well. I realize that it's not a decision met without danger and I was actually racking my brain trying to think of who I could get to come with me and be my body guard. Seriously, Russia is shady. For some reason though that hint of danger allures me. It excites me. Maybe its the same feeling that people who work as war correspondents seek. I'm only going for two weeks and I already found a charming little pension in the center of Moscow renting rooms for 20$ a night. Yeah dollars, not Euros, what is it like half now? give it a few months. This little excerpt from the internet listing had me sold immediately.

"Tsentralnaya Hotel - Singles for $20, doubles for $35. Only cash is accepted. There are common showers and toilettes. The rooms are not very nice, but with a big effort you can call them cozy. Great location in downtown Moscow, on the main street Tverskaya, and last century old building provided with an opportunity to make something special. They succeeded — a den full of characters that look like a mix of provincials, prostitutes and shifty fellows.?The receptionists are soviet-style women with blond hair and a "Piss off, I'm tired" attitude. But the guard is very helpful in a way: if ask him for directions, he may propose some escort "entertainment"."

I know, I know, I'm troubled... It's not just about the protest either. Moscow is a fascinating and huge city (ten million people, so I figure about a million queers;) There has to be some cool little parties in a city of that size, cmon. Either way it's a city that cannot be ignored and if I'm to go again, now would be the time. It wouldn't shock me if travel there were restricted at some point in the future. Bush certainly Isn't the worlds only tyrant and I've heard whispers of conflict.

I've actually been going out to parties quite a bit lately here in Berlin and it's kind of weird living in a city again that has a scene that I sort of feel apart of now. I guess it's just odd going out and running into people that I know. I suppose I feel naked in a scene that is no longer as anonymous. I ran into this artist kid Dallas the other night at a party in Prenzlauer Berg. I had met him before one night at Search & Destroy with Travis and Mario. They said they didn't remember meeting him which sort of shocked me because he left such a strong impression on me. He looks exactly like Prince. He could honestly pass as a body double. Anyway I ran into him again at this party and had such a fun night hanging out with him and all the drags, dancing and just being crazy, it totally reminded me of my New York club kid days, very dazed and druggy, ahhh Limelight anyone? Twilo? Just point me in the direction of the RMSD.

Last week I met this french guy on the internet. His name is Eric and he was here for the Berlin Contemporary Art Biennial. He's a real estate developer in London. We met up at a bar and ended up having a great conversation about art, politics, culture etc. We met up the next day as well and went to some of the Biennial exhibitions (which I should say were rather uninspiring) and after that just wandered around Mitte. He is very well travelled, so it was fun exchanging travel stories and enjoying that feeling of getting to know someone who you think you could really like. In reality though It's tough because I live in Berlin and He lives in London. Although I've been flirting with the idea of spending a few months in London. We'll see, what happens. He has invited me to meet up with him in Paris in a few weeks but I think it's when I'm going to be in Russia.

Last week my friend Elgyn emailed me. She was our guide when Gus and I went to the Istanbul International Film Festival last year. It had been a while since I had heard from her. We had so much fun causing trouble at all the festival parties and dragging Gus & Udo out clubbing to all my old Istiklal Cadessi haunts. I have to say, seeing the looks on Udo and Gus' faces in that smoky dungeon like club, surrounded by dangerous thugs and trannies (and I do not kid when i say dangerous, these are the type of bitches that will smash their drink on your brow and cut you if they catch you trying to get up on their play) um, so yeah that was kinda priceless. Anyway Elgyn is an aspiring filmmaker herself so she introduced me to a lot of her young turkish filmmaker friends; many of whom were also festival volunteers. One of her friends was a guy named Ali. Elgyn told me in her email that he is working on a film project that will be made up of eleven ten minute short films put together to form a feature. Half the shorts will be from established directors the other half will be young amateur directors. Elgyn sent me a proposal from Ali. He wants me to come back to Istanbul this summer and write and direct one of these short films. It sounds like a really cool project and a great opportunity for me to sort of dabble a bit in the art of filmmaking. I'm pretty sure everything is still in the early planning stages now. I'm not even sure who they have in mind to produce it or what kind of budget there will be yet. But I'm excited that they have asked me to be involved.

I can't believe how fast I'm going right now. My gaze is a blur until I focus on the distance. I just left Hamburg ten minutes ago on a high speed train bound for Berlin. I came to meet up with my friend Rob. Rob manages a german rock band and asked if I wanted to come to Hamburg and hang out with him after the show. We had a lot of fun getting drunk in the hotel bar, smoking weed, and watching trashy american reality shows on mtv europe until five am. um, rock of love, need I say more? I also had a chance to take a little wander around Hamburg this morning before my train left as well and its such a cool city and so close to Berlin. It's less than two hours away by train, so I'm definitely planning on coming back sometime soon. I really want to start doing more little side trips from berlin. I was here in Hamburg once before in 2006 but the weather was much colder then. It's amazing what a difference nice weather can make. Now that it's warm again places like Munich, Warsaw and Copenhagen are on my shortlist for good Berlin summer side trip destinations. But first I need to make it back from Russia in one piece. I'm both nervous and excited!

Color Dots

The Artist Formerly Known As...

Russian Message Board

Sting, Stinging, Stung

(WIDESPREAD)

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Neon Vortex

Sean Penn 2018

FREE TIBET

He Works Hard For The Money

SandBank

Me and Detlev (Schwules Museum Director) @ Bimal Project Opening

My Neighborhood Chinese Restaurant Has A Fish Tank!

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Night Out @ Search & Destroy

CGS

Jim, Janis & ?

Marvelous Miek

My Guru

Arrow

Slippery Slope

tennessee if ur nasty

corporate riot

branches

Gisperta

Sophisticated Samantha

Frankenstein

Color Targets

This Rat Wants 2 Know

XBERG STATUE

More Street Art

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Berlin Hauptbanhof

Chester & Friends

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Colors & Candy

ALIAS

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Night Out @ Bassy Club w/ DALLAS

These Modern Cave Drawings...

Self-Portrait @ Dawn

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We Shaved It All Off

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Berlin Biennial

Passage

The Mark

Michael & Thomas

Hand & Smoke

Banksy In Berlin

Red Glasses

Kreuzberg Garden

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Band Practice

Hamburg Hauptbanhof

Hardcore German Fashion

Hamburg <---> Berlin - Ticket

New Bronco Tag

Berlin 3-31-8

2008-07-01T03:09:00.000-07:00

Brrrrrr Brrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrrr. It’s fucking cold! Can I be any more blunt? Not only did mother nature ignore my wishes for an early spring in Berlin but she also backhanded me and gave me the finger while she was at it. She started by teasing me with beautiful sunny weather on the day I arrived and then out of nowhere two days later the blizzard conditions began along with her ferocious cutting winds. I have to say however that I was fortunate that the weather was nice the day I got back because my connecting flight in Dusseldorf was delayed so that I arrived to Berlin a few hours late.

I had arranged to have Patrick pick me up at the airport to help me with all of my luggage. Not surprisingly he was no where to be found when I emerged from the baggage claim. So I had to do it all by myself and lemme tell ya It really was just such a joy! I had the enormous metal trunk, two huge backpacks and my carry on luggage. People looked on in both amazement and pity as I hauled it all down the terminal and out to the bus stop because ya’ll should know that even under these circumstances I’m still too cheap to take a taxi. I think that thrifty quality must come from my mother, who is very much the same way.

Me and all of my luggage pretty much occupied the entire back of the bus. Finallly we reached Zoologischer Bahnhof where I got out and schlepped everything another two agonizing blocks to the U-Bahn station. The people in the train were looking at me like who is this crazy gypsy, hobo, freak haha, it was priceless. A few stops later I got off at Nollendorfplatz station in Schoneberg, The epicenter of gay Berlin. By that time I was so exhausted that I had to take little breaks to catch my breath every fifty or so feet, after all I was carrying something like three times my own weight. when I reached Patrick’s apartment a few blocks away. I collapsed on the couch from exhaustion. The whole ordeal was overwhelming.

Patrick is the same guy I was living with last summer who I almost married in order to gain legal status here in Germany. Thank God, I avoided that blunder. Our relationship has always been crazed and tumultuous. But even though we argued and fought a lot last summer, Patrick wrote me an email almost every day that I was in the states. I think he was just clinging onto the fantasy of falling in love and getting married. Even though I had long since expressed to him my disinterest in a romantic relationship with him. It’s hard when you like someone as a friend but they refuse to accept anything other than a full on romantic relationship. Maybe it’s my fault for planting the seed of this fantasy in his head.

Patrick and I met last May. I was stumbling completely wasted out of a bar across the street from his apartment at eight in the morning. He lives on the ground floor and was sitting out on his balcony. I don’t even remember how we started talking but I ended up climbing up about eight feet onto his balcony drunk as a skunk and we sat and chatted and watched a film together. It was all very romeo and juliet! We shared very little in common other than the fact that we are both artists and both have a parent who converted to Mormonism. But that was enough I suppose, because we started hanging out a lot and attending art openings together.

I was still living in my Kreuzberg apartment at the time paying 250 euros a month. Patrick suggested that I move in with him rent free. A very tempting offer. Patrick like countless others in this city, lives in social housing, so his rent is paid for entirely by the state. Finally about two months later after I returned from Spain completely broke, against my better judgement, I did move in with him and thats when the problems began. At first we fought about little things like leaving the the toilet seat up or not washing my dishes immediately after I used them. I always felt like the one on thin ice so to speak, because he had the power to ask me to leave at any time, regardless of my financial situation which was pretty bleak at the time. I felt a lot of pressure about the marriage even though I knew within the first week that I didn’t want to go through with it.

After a while I began to resent him more and more. I need to be in control of my own destiny. I’m very uncomfortable when someone holds something as crucial as housing over my head and then tries to use it as leverage in an attempt to try and control me. So when I returned to Berlin a month ago things pretty much went back to the way they were when I left the first time. After a week I found him to be completely insufferable. I started drinking again a lot and we would get into these huge arguments. Finally one night I told him that I could never live with someone so incredibly OCD and that I could never love him the way he wanted me to. I went out for the night and in typical, cold German fashion he called me on my mobile phone and told me he wanted me out immediately.

I didn’t really take him seriously until I got back to the apartment and saw a note on the door threatening to call the police signed patrick and my mother’s name. haha. The idiot had actually called my mother, I don’t even know how he got the number. Apparently my mom got a call from this fool and I’m sure, anxious to get him off the phone she told him to call the police if he had a problem and not her. After all, what could she do? Im twenty seven years old and this imbecile is calling my mother in america. When I got inside the apartment the Police were already there. I was so fucking pissed I couldn’t even see straight. I wanted to kill him. I called my friend Fabio and he rushed over in a taxi and we moved everything to to his place.

It was all just so much fucking drama. I made sure to be very respectful and polite to the police despite my drunken state, I don’t need to spend anymore time behind bars. Actually the police were really cool and sympathetic to me. They could see what a fucking stupid irrational fool Patrick was, but all the same, it is his flat and so I left and that was that. I was actually quite relieved to be out of there. I stayed with Fabio for about a week before moving in with his friend Jan who had an extra room to rent in Kreuzberg. Jan is a very easy going straight guy and is charging me a very reasonable 200 euros a month for a very spacious and sunny room overlooking a coutryard. It’s been so great to be living back in east Berlin and away from the gay ghetto that is Schoneberg. Anyway I’m a lot happier over here, so upward and onward I guess...

A few weeks ago I stopped by the studio of Aldo, an artist friend of mine whom I used to work for part time as an assistant last summer. He has just leased his own gallery space at Zimmerstasse, 11 about a block away from Checkpoint Charlie in Mitte. We collaborated on a photo shoot that same week and afterwards he offered to give me my first solo exhibition later this summer at his new gallery. If everything works out I’ll do a slide show, a video installation and four or five paintings. Nothing is set in stone yet but its a great opportunity for me and who knows maybe I’ll even make a little money. His gallery space is called Bimal Projects and it’s grand opening is actually coming up this week.

I’ll exhibit using my newly adopted artists name, "Tennessee Claflin." I chose to change my first name from Brian to Tennessee in homage to a relative of mine who was a nineteenth century American women’s suffragist, free love advocate, and candidate for US congress from New York. Her achievements are often overshadowed by those of her equally amazing older sister and best friend Victoria Claflin Woodhull, who was the first woman to run for president of the United States in 1872. Both of these incredible women ran for public office in America before woman even had the right to vote. Not only were the Claflin sisters the first women in America to open their own Wall Street brokerage firm backed by Tennessee’s lover, Cornelious Vanderbilt, but they were also the first people in the United States to publish Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto in their radical newspaper, Woodhull & Claflin’s weekly. These two fierce bitches had NYC all up in arms back in the day. They were a truly amazing and inspiring pair not to mention super scandalous during their time.

A couple weeks ago I went out with my friends Travis and Mario to a new bar in Friedrichshain called Monster Ronson’s Karaoke Fag Bar. We met up there with Travis’ friends Christophe and Snax. Christophe is also an artist and had a part in Otto, Bruce’s zombie film. He played the zombie in the infamous gut fucking scene which prompted a few scattered walk outs at its Sundance premiere in January. I ended up getting really drunk as usual. It was a crazy, hot mess of a night ending with me carrying on with some amazing drag diva, the bitch almost had me pissing my pants she was so fucking hilarious. I found out later it was the legendary performance artist, Joey Arias. (I thought that bitch looked familiar) Travis introduced me to the owner of the bar who I found out coincidentally also grew up in SLC and he invited me to join his gay mormon karaoke church which holds "services" every sunday night. So who knows, I might end up there later on tonight to sing show tunes because ya’ll know Mary Poppins be the bomb! Or maybe I’ll wow them all with my signature rendition of Nasty Girl by Vanity 6. Oh yes children, it’s gonna be cunty.

Mauricio, a friend of my late boyfriend Stephen, contacted me a few weeks ago asking me to send him any photographs or artwork that I might have of Stephen’s. Mauricio is putting together a Stephen Sprouse book and I can’t think of a better person suited for the task. He did a tribute to Stephen right after he passed away back in 2004 in his MAO Magazine and it turned out fucking amazing. I’m really excited to see how this book turns out. It’s stressful for me though because I have a literal treasure trove of Stephen’s work that I had transfered onto my laptop from his old ibook, but many of them are photoshop files and I don’t have Photoshop Software on my laptop so I cant open them. So if any of you Berlin kids out there have Photoshop for mac gimme a holler! Now I wish I had gone into Manhattan to meet with Mauricio during my 12 hour layover at JFK last month cuz he has photoshop for mac and it would have been so easy to just transfer everything directly to Mauricio’s computer. I’m sure I’ll figure something out though, I just need to be quick about it cuz the book deadline is in mid April. So I have plenty to do in the next few weeks.

Actually I might be going to Ireland for a few days in the next couple weeks, I found a ticket on Ryan Air for like fifty euros roundtrip and I have a friend that I can stay with for free in Dublin. Bruce emailed me a couple weeks ago and invited me to meet up with him in Belfast. I guess he is pimping out, I mean screening his film there and there’s also some kind of Zombie themed party at the local queer taverrnn. It all sounds like a healthy dose of glitz, glamour and smut, but the euro to pound exchange rate deters me a little bit. Uggh, I really detest being a slave to money. Maybe I can find someone to screen me, I mean pimp me out! Speaking of money, I finally came across my first Bronco graffiti tag of the year right here in Kreuzberg, I’ve never seen Bronco do the same tag more than once so far and the one I saw the other day read - "No Money, No Problems" Bronco is my favourite graffiti artist here in Berlin although I can’t decide if I agree with him/her or if that is just something poor artists say in order to make themselves feel better about being broke, cuz I’m poor and lemme letcha know, I gots problems a plenty!

If Only It Were True. . .

Blue Light Bend

Kill. Lies. All.

Disko Spotlights

Little Red Car

Checkerboard Disko

Berlin’s Literary Set Adores Me ;)

Almost As Much As They Adore The Golden Arches!

Daphne, Glamourous Mother Of The Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence

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Terrific Travis & Marvelous Mario!!!
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SqueezeBox @ Monster Ronson’s

Lettuce???

Furchtsam Selbstbildnis

Crow Oracle

Apple, Lemon, Avocado

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Daniel Libeskind’s Jüdisches Museum

Grafitti Is Power

This photo was featured on the cover of the New York Times a few weeks ago. It Speaks Volumes.

What Is Essential Is Invisible To The Eye

Looks Like Somebody Out There Needs A Drink!

Classy Berlin

Illuminated World

Taggers In Tears

The True Essence Of Schöneberg

Alphabet Street

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Sprouse Book Pics

The Emptyness Of War

Street Art In Neukölln

Painting With Thai Script

Kleiststrasse February

Eight Of Clubs

Hangin Out @ Fabio’s

War Is Terror (who do you believe?)

Kreuzberg Church

Görlitzer Park

Watch Fitna To Learn All About The Shade

Nor Will I Live In It

Mitte Art Opening

Kreuzberg Sculpture

Big Sister Is Watching You!

And So Are The Aliens!

San Francisco 2-25-8

2008-07-01T03:00:00.000-07:00

I've been here in San Francisco for about five weeks now and it certainly has proven to be an interesting, eventful and learning experience. For starters, I'm traveling with a lot more luggage than I normally do which makes moving a bit stressful. I'm bringing many more of my things back to Berlin so I have a large green trunk and two other big bags. I'm sure you can imagine what a nightmare that was having to lug everything up the hill to my hostel from the BART station!

One of the lessons that I learned on this trip is to avoid hostels, especially in the states and never stay at the cheapest place in town as they tend to draw the cities shadiest of people. I stayed at the globe trotters hostel in the tenderloin for my first week and at twenty bucks a night it was the type of place where people were actually living there long term, so there wasn't really much of a backpackers vibe. Actually to be frank, it was mad sketchy. One of my roommates kept trying to sell me clothes that he had obviously just shoplifted. Then the girl roommate would stay up all night all cracked out. I finally decided to leave after I discovered that my ATM card was missing yet again. I hate banks. They can be such a nightmare to deal with.

I moved up the hill to another hostel that was a bit more expensive but the atmosphere was much more pleasant. On my second day there, I was sitting on the bed with my laptop downloading music when a new roommate arrived. He was an older fellow from Hawaii by the name of George. He was wearing some crazy hat made of maple leaves and was carrying about seven canvas bags with anti-bush slogans written all over them in magic marker.

I thought to myself, why is this old man staying at a youth hostel? I then asked the same question of myself. At first we were getting along great. We talked at length about politics and our mutual disdain for the Bush administration and he advised me on some good classical music to download. Then he pulled out a six pack of beer. An hour later he was pretty buzzed and was starting to get kinda loud and rowdy. He offered me a beer and I started drinking with him. After a while we were both quite drunk.

He gave me some money and asked me to go down to the store and buy some more beer. So I did and when I came back without a receipt he came completely unglued literally screaming at me and made me go back down to get one. Then when i got one he was pissed off again saying I had paid too much for the beer and got ripped off. By this time I was thoroughly annoyed. I told him that its roughly the same price at all the stores and reminded him that not only are we living in the twenty first century but that the US dollar has gone down in value significantly in the past few years.

We began to argue and at one point I made a comment about one of the anti-bush slogans he had graffitied on his bag. it read " George W. Bush sucks big dick". I made clear to him that I am no fan of Bush but that I really don't see how sucking dick is an insult. I told him I thought that it was very homophobic. He then went on a drunken tirade calling me a faggot and making threats against me. Then out of nowhere he blindsided me hitting me twice in the jaw and knocking my laptop to the floor. I was livid.

At that point I made a big mistake. I just completely lost it. I attacked him punching him twice in the nose, leaving him bleeding on the bed. Seeing him laying there bleeding, I felt horrible, even though I was only defending myself. I wished that when he had hit me I had just run away from him down to reception to report it and ask for a room change. But at the same time when someone is attacking me, I don't care if they are seventy five or fifteen, I have to defend myself. It just sucks because I ended up spending a few days in jail because of something that he did.

He was bleeding quite a bit so I went and got some tissue and then brought him downstairs to get help. Just then the police arrived and I walked outside to explain to them what had happened. They took one look at me and one look at him and threw me in handcuffs without even asking my side of the story. I HATE cops. Some of them can be cool but ninety nine percent of the time they are arrogant assholes lured into that line of work in order to satisfy some pathetic power trip. It's poor mans politics, plain and simple. Although its probably not such a good idea to let them know this, as I did.

Angry and frustrated by the situation I was facing, I was well lets just say less than respectful to the arresting officers. Another lesson learned, It's never a good idea to mouth off to the police.(a lesson i should have learned last summer) Because they can throw whatever bullshit charges they want at you just to fuck with you, as I found out later. I was in jail for almost three days. They informed me I was facing four felony charges and my bail was set at two hundred thousand dollars. I almost passed out. I can't even remember what they all were, I was just so shocked. I could not believe that that kind of corruption still exists in this country. I do know one of the charges was for elderly abuse because the guy ended up being in his late sixties. I felt so horrible but mostly i felt really helpless being locked up in there not knowing when I would be released.

Jail was an eye opening experience. I was housed with guys that had been there for months so I was pretty worried at first that I would share the same fate. Although my mind was somewhat at ease knowing they could never prosecute me on the false charges due to the fact that there couldn't possibly be any evidence or witnesses, I was however still worried about the abuse charge because I was'nt sure if they would believe me. I shared a cell with four other guys none of whose real names i remember because they all went by the nicknames, dorothy, blanche, rose, & sophia each having assumed the identity of one of the Golden Girls. We of course watched the Golden Girls every night after dinner hahaha. Only in San Francisco could the experience of incarceration be so goddamn gay!

After spending two days in jail I was finally able to meet with the investigator. I sat down and as articulately as possible, I explained to her exactly what had happened. I asked her about the other false charges against me and she wrote them off saying that they must have been typos. Ha, yeah right! I found out from the other inmates that this type of thing happens all the time especially if you mouth off to the cops but usually its the black guys that see the worst injustices. Cops on a power trip. Such shade. Thankfully within about five hours of speaking to the investigator all charges were dropped against me and I was released. It turns out George is no stranger to the law and has quite a lengthy rap sheet. Words cannot express how relieved I was to be out of there. I walked all the way across town back to my hostel but they said at reception that I had to move because of their no fighting policy, even though it was self-defence.

So I schlepped all of my luggage up the street to the Adelaide Hostel. When I was checking in she asked why I was moving from the other place. I just told her the truth about what happened and she asked me if the guy who I fought was named George. When I said yes she started to laugh a little and said that they had just kicked him out of The Adelaide a few days ago for drunken behavior and making homophobic remarks. Hmmm sound familiar? So he ended up my roommate right after being kicked out from the Adelaide.

The Adelaide Hostel had a much better vibe. It was mostly young backpackers from abroad. Its a bit more expensive for a bed but the atmosphere improvement was well worth it. I got along great with my roommates there but after a couple weeks I grew weary of other people snoring or coming home loud and wasted at five in the morning. I swear somebody needs to teach these children some basic hostel etiquette. But what really put me off hostels was that I caught a nasty case of the flu from one of my roommates, that I'm just now finally starting to get over. So much for that flu shot I had. Eventually I discovered a little hindu run inn on nob hill renting rooms for 200 bucks a week and I moved in there for the rest of my time in San Francisco. I was glad to have my own room again.

After I got out of jail, I emailed Gus about the film but never heard back from him. Realizing he must be very busy with the filming, I decided to just show up on set in the Castro. I saw Gus and went over to say hi. After reprimanding him for not returning my email I asked him if he still had a part in mind for me. He said that he wished I had shown up for the auditions in November, but that all the big speaking parts had been cast. Suddenly I regretted temping those few months in SLC instead of coming directly here. But then he said I should be in the protest scene they were filming that night. So I got to be one of the crazy angry queer rioters.

It was so much fun and I got to meet so many amazing people. I met lots of legendary SF queens. The Radical Faeries were out in full force. I also met Lance Black, the writer of the incredible script for the film (which Gus gave me to read during our flight to Istanbul last year) and of course the amazing Sean Penn, so that was pretty rad. About a week later I brought one of my hostel roommates along with me to the set to meet Gus and be a part of a much more somber scene in the film. The candlelight vigil scene was filmed down on Market Street. I introduced my roommate to Gus and we chatted for a bit. That's when Gus told us that my other friend Paige (the woman who introduced Gus and I) was in town but unfortunately by the time I got in touch with her she had already gone back to Portland. Too bad too because its been like a year since I've seen her.

That was also the night where I realized that aside from the main actors, the casting for a production of that size is really out of Gus' hands. He has so many people working for him that oversee all of those things. Admittedly I was very naive to think that I could just show up on the set of a major hollywood production and expect to get a part without auditioning, even though the director is a friend of mine. I guess I just assumed that if the director emails me asking me to try out for his film he must have a role in mind for me. I'm not even an actor anyway but I just thought that it would be cool to act in this film because its such an important queer film. Regardless It was just interesting to hang out on set and really get a chance to see how a film is made and how much work and manpower it takes. Even though I didn't get as big a part as I had hoped, it was still just an honor to be apart of everything.

After filming one night I went out to a party just off Polk Street called Rod. I ended up getting completely wasted and after a while I was smoking a joint with some kid outside the bar. Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind. I turned around to see my old friend Noah X standing there. I was friends with Noah when I lived here back in 2004. We used to go to concerts and hang out together quite a bit. We went to see Blonde Redhead together my first time and once he took me to a crazy performance in the basement of a gay strip bar by a really cool local band called Soft Pink Truth. Every time I'm in SF it seems like I run into Noah. The last time I was here in November of 2006 I ran into Noah at The Knife concert at Mezzanine. I swear this kid is everywhere! We had a lot of fun catching up that night & watching old episodes of strangers with candy.

I love those kind of strange serendipitous moments in life. Its almost as if some force is pulling you together. Back when I lived in New York, I used to run into the same guy everywhere. At the bar, the bookstore, the train, the deli, you name it. It was as if he was stalking me. We even hung out once after the bar one night and he was a nice guy but there didn't seem to be any immediate interest there. Why then was I seeing this person all over New York? It wasn't until I took a trip to London and then ran into this same person again in the most random out of the way side street that I began to wonder, what are the odds? Who knows what draws certain people together? I do have to say though It was really great to see my friends Noah and Gus again and everyone else too. Although i definitely saw my share of ups and downs on this trip Im still so glad that I came. I really love San Francisco and I'm actually considering splitting my time between here and Berlin, maybe summers there and winters here. We'll see what happens. Although I'm dreading the cold weather in Europe, it will be cool to finally get back to Berlin tomorrow, I just hope spring comes early this year!

Marilyn Inn T.V.

TransAmerica

From Nob Hill

Joice Street Stairs

Masonic Temple

Hole In The Wall Sticker

Grace Cathedral

Art Shade

View From Telegraph Hill

Dashiell Hammett Stoner

Santa Claus

Eagle

Sunday Beer Bust @ The Eagle Tavern

My New Favourite Food

(YAWN)

JailTag

ghost of me

Looking Down Taylor

Saint Francis Shrine

Joice Street Bird

Prayer Of Saint Francis

Paper Bags

Green Arm Glow

RAVECOMEdown

Drugs

Street Glamour

T.V. Static

young SS lookalike (same name too)

Purple Traces

SOMA sidestreet

hostel wall grafitti

Tangerines

Energizer

Golden Gate Bridge

Sea & Trees

Anger Danger

sf architecture

queen of the throne

MILK VIGIL

Poster @ Aunt Charlies

my lucky number

Calm Before The Storm

one of my drinking buddies

hangin out @ city hall

Disco Inferno

Glass Graffiti Drip

Riot Scene

Futuristic Hebrew Tag

It's The Virginia Slims Girl, She's Here In Person

New Shoes

Contrast In The Rain

Mardi Gras Mask

Demure In Blue

Light Coils

Light Coils 2

The Worlds Most Charming Bouncer

Rambo Poster

Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Butch Queen First Time In Drag

China White

Haight Street Bar

Hand Silhouette

Hostel Bathroom Wall

Hole In The Wall Candle

My Favourite Bar In SF

Mission Mural

Lawn Spin

BART escalator

City Hall Dusk

Salt Lake 1-21-8

2008-07-01T02:35:00.000-07:00

I worked very hard for most of December and finally right around Christmas I decided to buy myself a hard earned gift. I went downtown to the Apple Store and bought my self a new MacBook. My old laptop was really struggling. The hinges have been broken for almost a year with the wires hanging out the side. Every once in while if the wires rub together, I'll see sparks. So understandably I was very happy to finally have a new working laptop. The first thing I did was copy my entire CD collection into my I-Tunes Then I transferred all of the files from my old laptop to my new one. I also have Stephen's old laptop that has a broken screen, so its been really amazing to go through the files with all of his work and photos and things. Its taken me almost four years to finally do it but I finally did. There are so many pictures of me in it from my early New York days. Time flies.

Last October I saw a flyer for a Tuesday night electro party at The Broken Record. I decided I would go and check it out. When I arrived I met the DJ/Promoters Justin Strange & VXN. We chatted for a while about music and I ended up getting quite drunk. They are both really good DJ's and I started coming out to their party pretty regularly. After a few weeks they asked me if I wanted to guest DJ at their Christmas Party. I have spun at a few private parties when I lived in Buenos Aires and also at one in Istanbul but I had never DJ'd at an actual club. Learning how to use the mixer was pretty easy actually. I had a blast doing it and they even invited me back again two weeks later. Some of the songs I played were : Crimewave - Crystal Castles, Hustler - Simian Mobile Disco, Vitamin Burn - Phiiliip, Neverland - The Knife, Aint To Proud To Beg - TLC, Sex With Strangers - Marianne Faithfull. It was a cool opportunity for me to sort of get my feet wet DJ'ing.

One night at Broken Record Justin was showing me his tattoo. He has "The Revolution Is My Boyfriend" tattooed across his stomach. It's a line from one of my friend Bruce's films. As it turned out Justin is a huge fan of Bruce's. I told Justin that I had actually befriended Bruce last summer in Berlin. So when Bruce's film was invited to premiere at the Sundance Film Festival this year I told Justin he should ask Bruce to guest DJ at his party while he was in town. I emailed Bruce and gave him a heads up about it and he agreed to come and spin. Bruce and I showed up at the club and hung out upstairs drinking with Justin for a while, then we went downstairs to the DJ booth for the set. It was really great and I had a such fun time. Two days later was the premiere of Bruce's gay zombie film Otto; or Up With Dead People. I drove up to Park City with Justin and we went to the grocery store and bought a six-pack of pbr (cuz we're classy like that). We smuggled it in Justin's backpack and sat up towards the front of the theater. Otto was amazing. If a film can be both vile and lovely at the same time, Bruce's film achieved this. It was very metaphorical in its exploration of how society in general views and treats homosexuals. It also made me very nostalgic for Berlin with its several stunning shots of the city.

After the premiere we walked over to Bruce's cute little ski cabin for the after party. I had a chance to get to know some of his producers better and also the star of the film, The young Belgian Jey Crisfar, who I have to say is the picture of sexy and sweet. I ended up getting very drunk. Far too intoxicated to drive the 25 miles back to my parents house in Salt Lake. So I stayed the night at Bruce's place up in Park City and drove back in the morning. I spent the entire day on Sunday packing up and organizing my room. Justin called me that night wanting me to come back up to Park City with him. He said he was on the list for some party Paris Hilton was hosting (yawn), I opted out. Mostly because I had a ton of shit to do before I left for San Francisco early the next morning. I just barely arrived here. We'll see what happens with this film. It should be an interesting experience. I'm shooting for an early march arrival back to Berlin.

Stephen Speaker Paintings

Fire Wire

My Niece Hazel (aka Crazel) & her bff Salta

Electro Fever!

Justin & VXN

Family XMAS Photo

ATLAS

DJ Prix's Debut

Stacked CD's

Me Chillin @ The Crib

Dad's Colour Chart

Geronimo

Einstein

Marilyn

Mao

Mick

Warhol Self-Portrait

Warhol Retrospective - SLC

In The DJ Booth With Bruce & Justin

Cory's Poster

Stephen's Laptop

Diego War Room NOMA