Tuesday, February 28, 2006


Why is it some gay men refuse to accept the fact that old father time is knocking on their tired old doors. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a little nip and tuck, but this trend with aging Chelsea boys parading around in teenage clothing is ridiculous.

The other day I was getting a pumpkin donut at the cupcake cafĂ© on 9th ave when in walked in what I thought was a cute teenaged boy – diesel patchwork jeans, silver pumas, baseball hat and Abercrombie soccer shirt. Nice, I thought - until it turned around. There staring back at me was a haggard old face with more lines than an LA freeway map.

Damn, don’t these queens realize what fools they are making of themselves.

Saturday, February 25, 2006


Thank Heaven I live in a blue state. I read today that South Dakota is ready to pass a law that would make it illegal to have an abortion – with up to 5-years in prison for doctors performing the procedure!!! In the same newspaper I read that Christian fundamentalists are planning on taking over the state of South Carolina. What is going on in America?

Yes, our nation is fast becoming an Islamic state of affairs. I don’t doubt for a minute that these religious idiots would love nothing more than taking over the government and sending liberal minded folks like me to the stockades.

Now I don’t advocate abortions, and I do think the procedure is a form of murder, but that isn’t the point – the point is money is power. Abortion is always going to be around. Unfortunately, the only people able to afford abortions will be the rich – they have the money to take their whore daughters across state lines or to hire reputable docs on the down low while the poor will have to resort to back alley abortions ala wire hangers. Yes, money is power, and that my darlings, is sad.

Thursday, February 23, 2006


Living in the big apple isn't easy. New Yorkers put up with alot of shit to live in the greatest city in the world. Over time we find little ways to make city living easier. For some, it's a weekend house in the country, or having dinner delivered every night or simply buying your own washer and dryer. For me, it's car service. I simply HATE mass transit and I avoid it at all costs. I don't care if I'm down to my last $20, I would rather starve than get on a subway. If I lived in Brooklyn or Queens, and a slave to the train, I would put a bullet in my head.

Now don't get me wrong, sometimes I don't have a choice and I have to ride the train. Last week, due to the snow, no cars were available for my 9 am call time, and it was too snowy to ride my bike, so off I trotted to the dreaded L train. My blood pressure rose as I stood on the platform with the swarm of worker bees. Train after train passed us by, as they were too crowded to stop. Time was clicking away and my patience was dwindling. When the packed fourth train finally stopped, I threw myself into the masses aboard the train. It was disgusting. Pushed and shoved and stepped on, I felt like I was on my way to Auschwitz. By the time I got to my shoot, I felt soiled as well as exhausted emotionally and physically.

I immediately called my car service and set up pick-up times for the reminder of the week. No more subway for me. A tad melodramatic you say? You bet, but I don't smoke, drink or do drugs, and I always order a small plain coffee at Starbucks, so what's the big deal if car service is my vice?

Tuesday, February 21, 2006


Among foodies, it’s been said that chocolate is the new cheese. And in NYC, tiny and tony chocolate shops are popping up everywhere.

And no milk chocolate allowed – very Jersey, my dear. I found this out the hard way.

One day last week, after an exhaustive search for pink blush in Soho, I popped into one of these new chocolaterias. After sampling the divine hot chocolate, which is almost like a melted chocolate bar, I scanned the candy counter for a piece to go. When I inquired about the milk chocolate, the prim and Prada-adorned owner stared me down - I could almost hear her thoughts “get out and go buy your Hershey’s down at the Korean deli.”

After an awkward silence, I was told – or I should say scolded – in a thick French accent that the store only carried dark chocolate. I stood there behind the many dark confections looking bewildered. No, shamed is a better word. Yes, only in NYC can one be shamed in a candy store for being unchic.


Things just ain’t the same. I’m talking about my weekly Sunday nights at the Cock bar. Yes, the infamous east village bar is no more; and with it went it’s weekly Sperm Sunday parties. Yes, I know the bar moved a mile or so down the road, but it just isn’t the same. For starters, it was so convenient – the bar was kitty-corner from my apartment. In the dead of winter I could scoot across the street in a t-shirt without the hassle of a bulky coat. I loved when the British door gal would say in her half-drunk cockney accent, “Love, honey, where is your wrap?’ I’d hurry in the bar and order my trademark vodka and coke – a Black Bitch for those who don’t know and by the way, Miss Debbie Harry drinks them, too. I would sip my cocktail and take in the music and the crowd. The djs played a mixture of the latest happy house, old disco, punk and 80s new wave. I will never forget the gaggle of black queens singing perfect gospel backup over the loudspeakers to Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls”. I usually wouldn’t leave until the lights came on at 4 or 5 am. I’d sneak out the side door – or the door of shame as we called it.

The raunchy Saturday night party called Foxy was a worldwide sensation – written up in every hipster magazine in the world – and put the Cock on the map. Foxy was a freak show contest where contestants would take to the small stage and perform lewd acts for money to the cheering of the crowd. I am not even going to write what I saw take place on that stage – I might get my blog thrown off this site!!

And you never knew who you would see throwing back a cocktail – it could be Britney, Madonna, Lena Horne or Christina Aguilera. I will never forget the night Miss Eartha Kitt was sitting on the bar with a glass of dubious quality champagne in her hand while a totally nude go-go boy swung over her head on the trapeze. It was high life meeting low life and I am sure the ghosts of Andy Warhol, Capote and Halsten were huddled in the corner comparing notes.

This is the place where I caught a flame of mine canoodling in the back room. I shrieked in horror to the hum of some old Blondie melody and I ran from the bar – oh yes, drama was served up nightly at the Cock. To his credit, like any good boyfriend worth having, he at least had the decency to chase me out of the bar and across Avenue A screaming my name and begging my forgiveness. And yes, I took him back – the Cock had a way of making good boys do bad things.

This is the bar where I first heard my two favorite songs…”Lola’s Theme” by the Shapeshifters and “A Higher Place” by Peyton.

My Monday clients more often than not were my family at Modern Salon magazine, who loved to hear about my night at the Cock. Miss Maggie, the beauty editor, loved to shock the hairdressers by calling out, “David, did you have fun at Sperm last night?”

My best pal Peter aka Miss Tina broke his 10-year dry spell with a somewhat cute Asian boy. Well, almost – no batons were tossed in the air, but there was touching. “Honey, you know Miss Tina doesn’t do egg roll.”

That same night we saw Rupert Everet canoodling with a man in the back room. As I said, you never knew whom you would run into at the Cock.

Yes, an era has ended. If you doubt me, google Cock Bar NYC and find out for yourself.

Sunday, February 19, 2006


Wow can the weather change. In seven days, NYC has had 27 inches of snow, 62-degree sunshine that melted the snow, and then freezing 10-degree weather – crazy. I have been so busy with work that I don’t have much to talk about.

My friend from Milwaukee recently posted on her blog the many, many dates that turned sour. Well, I thought about my own sexcapades in the city and I, too, have a few cherry pits of my own to spit out.

Here goes: I will never forget the odd man from Queens who after meeting me for 20 minutes in a "shady" area of the infamous bar on 12th and Avenue A professed his love and asked me to travel across the country with him via motor home.

Another gem said he was str8 and claimed to work for the New York Yankees. Sounds good, right? Well, he turned out to sell women's shoes at Barney's and hidden under his Yankee's cap was a full head of highlights.

Yet another man I met on the internet somehow tracked down my cell phone number and address - take note internet sluts - and started calling me 20 times a day and finally announced he would arrive at my apartment that evening. Horrified, I sat at my coffee house sipping my usual soy latte with two Splendas and telling my tale of woe to my friends. Suddenly my cell rang and it was my internet stalker calling yet again. My buddy grabbed the phone and said he would handle it. He lit into the guy saying I was his boyfriend and how dare he call or even think about showing up at the apartment. My stalker apologized to my pretend boyfriend and I thought all was well. The next day a Federal Express package showed up at my apartment addressed to my "boyfriend" containing copies of our internet correspondence.

And finally, how could I forget the 250-pound man who seemed nice until he started telling me how much he loved the movie, "The Real Thing." I nodded in agreement. He then let it slip he saw it 86 times. Hmmmmm...I thought he was a tad odd when he told me he could predict the future with ice cubes, but I just thought he was colorful - and you know how I collect "colorful" people. Well, he said he tracked the star of the film to Oxford in England where he was attending school. My chubby pal proceeded to fly across the pond to the campus and stalked the actor for 2 weeks until he spotted him outside his dorm. Startled, and racking my brain for any recent celebrity murder, I asked what happened next. It turns out he said hello to the actor and flew back to NYC that evening. He must have noticed my surprise and said with a straight face, "What did you think I would do? I just wanted to say hello. I'm not crazy or anything."


Wow can the weather change. In seven days, NYC has had 27 inches of snow, 62 degree sunshine that melted the snow, and then freezing 10 degree weather – crazy. I have been so busy with work that I don’t have much to talk about. I do wonder, though, how do people who work 9 to 5 everyday get anything done in their regular life? I’m so used to having a few days off a week to work at home, but this past week it was 6 days in a row and I am exhausted.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006


I am busy all week shooting for Macy's, but I did get some interesting news. Canadian based Vasanti Cosmetics has approached me to help develop products for their fabulous new line of makeup - I have a few ideas that I will be working on with their chemist, Pinki - love that name!!

Monday, February 13, 2006


Valentine’s Day – the co-dependant holiday of the year. Either you’re in or as Heidi Klum says, you’re out. A model on a shoot today commented that he and his girlfriend celebrate Valentine’s Day everyday – not just some specific day. And you know, that makes a lot of sense. My Valentine died almost four years ago – bladder cancer – and although I don’t think I’m ready to dip my toes into that heart shaped pool just quite yet, I think I am getting close. I met a Yogi from Brooklyn via India– only in NYC kids – this past weekend and he told me we have to let go of our deceased loved ones or their souls never move on. I’ve been thinking about his words all day.


This week I have it so easy I can't believe it - a week shooting for Macy's and the models are all men. Hurrah for an easy week - and breakfasts and lunches are good too - and everyone at Macy's is very nice. My issue of Flaunt is on the stands and my men's story looks amazing - John Rusnak is an incredible photographer. Take a look at it.

Sunday, February 12, 2006


What a storm - 26 inches in 24 hours - the second highest snowfall in city history. I went to visit a friend earlier in the day and I was trapped in Brooklyn at 2 am in a snowstorm waiting for the F train. As luck would have it, the train came in 10 minutes, but when I got off at the 2nd Avenue and Houston stop, all mayhem was taking place. The lower east side has become a playground for the bratty trust friend crowd - the train platform was covered with passed out drunk brats surrounded by pools of vomit. Lucky me. The 12 block walk back to my apartment was cold, but surprisingly beautiful.

Saturday, February 11, 2006


It's fashion week in NYC or in other words, the circus has come to town. The tents are up in Bryant Park and the fashionistas and the fashionista press are out in full force. When I walked up the steps to get into the Heatherette show, E, Entertainment Tonite and The Style Network were all filming the crowd and interviewing people. The Heatherette show is the ultimate "see and be seen" show - it's the show where celebrity and clubland merge together to form a twisted fashion hybrid all its own. The theme of the show was "Dreams come true in NYC". I chatted with many former club kids from my Limelight days - the main topic was who's still around and who's not. LOL.