Perez Pleez!!!!

Okay! So the queen got bopped! Who cares! How could she possibly expect anyone to be on her side. They are an international Pop group and Perez is a parody of a cartoon based on stereotype. I am starting to think Perez Hilton hates gay people and is really out to show the world how unfashionable, ungroomed, catty, sad, and bottom feeding we can be. I mean really Perez, Will I Am a thug, ending your vid by calling Fergie Fugly, and all the God stuff! Bitch Puhleez. Nobody would route for that queen if she did a face off against Rush Limbaugh! If you play in the dirt you are going to get muddy, dear. Suck it up! A Black Eye really. Who doesn't want to slap the pee out of Perez Hilton. The Black Eyed Peas, what a gay group to get a black eye from. At least it could have been somebody we think is badass! Not the pop equivalent to the "Get Along Gang"! Perez go sit your dumb ass down. You have knocked gay people back 40 years. Next time show them really how to turn it like a real queen and sabotage something.

Congratulations! Your Normal

I used to want to be on TV now I want to be on YouTube!Don't get me wrong their are a few bright spots ( Ugly Betty, House, and Divorce Court). I just don 't care anymore about turning on the tube at all. Between Hulu and YouTube,the DTV revolution has already occured. I have a feeling that when they finally ( if ever) switch the signal off. There will be mass layoffs like the car companies. There is no need for 2 hours of news during rush hour! Serousily, wise up broadcasters the only reason to get on TV is to get what I am deeming the "I'm Really Normal Award." Tyra Banks was a SUPER Model now houswives and preganant teens can sit back and watch her cut a fool , while she talks about relationship woes with toothless meth addicts. Why couldn't she get real meth addicts like Jamie King or Kate Moss the morning after a White Stripes Concert. A million dollar model with no makeup,coffee stained teeth,and under eye carry-ons. That's my anti- drug! They would be chain smoking and conference call Amy Winehouse and LiLo. I mean good grief TyTy you are a cover model, who cares if you can relate to these drecks of the panhandles. You were put on this earth to make us know that there are certain things we can't get paid for. One of them being, the ability to look like a lethargic alien. Just ask the second place queen on American Idol, its better not to win it.

Black Gay Pride???

I went to my first Pride celebration when I was 15 yrs old. I told my mom I was going to the movies, instead, I hopped on the train ,and went right to Banneker Field. I didn't know what I was going to see. I only remember a man with white spandex on and what looked like a small animal warmly nestled in his crotch, how sweet?I felt shorter than everyone I saw, even my friends. I didn't feel out of place. One other thing I remember was a collection water jug being filled with donations for an organization. Everyone seemed to graciously give what they had. It occured to me then, how important it was to have a community, or at least people that had your back. I don't feel that anyone has my back now. Pride has a negative connotation for me now. I don't understand how I can be from DC, know the President of the organization, lend my services to help, and still not know anything about Pride events before hand. I don't have to talk to family to know what is going on. I hear more random goings on than any person that I know. I have not heard one thing about black pride. I know its out there somewhere. DO you care? Let it be known

THE CURIOUS CASE OF GAY-PORN-STAR IDENTICAL TWINS

As boys, Keyon and Taleon Goffney shared little but a birthday. It was what they did together as men that did them in

By Richard Rys; Photograph by Troofire

The flashbulbs were oddly silent as the four models sat inside a photography studio, waiting for their moment to arrive. Never mind that the studio was in Delaware; this was high fashion meets old money. The models had been carefully selected by casting agents representing the London-based bank Barclays to star in a print campaign pitching the Barclays-branded Visa and MasterCard to a prospective corporate client—Ralph Lauren. For the models, it was a chance to be seen by the Ralph Lauren tastemakers, perhaps even the patriarch himself, a possible stepping-stone to becoming a face of the prestigious fashion company. Yet well past the scheduled start time, Barclays' creative director was calling a casting agent in a panic. "Keyon isn't here!"

Keyontyli Goffney is striking in a way that makes both women and men take notice—he's black with a trace of Thai, and has brown eyes, angular cheekbones, and a lean, chiseled body. At 26, he had the portfolio of an up-and-comer, including a Nike ad. He had also done extra work on television: as a lifeguard in a Lifetime miniseries starring Rob Lowe, on Law & Order, and as a dancer next to Tom Brady in a Saturday Night Live sketch. But Keyon wasn't content to be a backdrop for Gisele's quarterback husband; he wanted to be the next Tyson Beckford, to achieve his own stardom by doing Polo ads. The Barclays campaign could be that elusive big break, and he was missing.

The casting agent phoned Keyon's talent rep, who was stunned to hear her client was a no-show. Soft-spoken and polite, he was generally punctual. The rep tried every number she had for him and got only voice mail. Days passed before Keyon finally called to apologize. His grandmother had fallen ill, he said, and he had to take care of her. It was hard to argue with putting family first, but was there really no one else who could tend to his grandmother so he didn't miss the biggest job of his career?

The following week Keyon's rep received an e-mail from Barclays. She clicked on a link to a news story and saw photos of her client and his identical twin brother, Taleon. It turned out that while the casting agent had been scrambling to find a replacement that February day in 2008, Keyon had been busy at a shoot of a different sort. Beside his mug shot was a headline identifying him as one of the "Twin Brother Bandits." He had been caught in the middle of an alleged rooftop burglary and was a suspect in dozens of similar break-ins across three states.

Instead of getting a good night's rest on the eve of the Barclays–Ralph Lauren gig, police say, Keyon was sitting in a blue Passat, anxious for his brother to emerge from a beauty shop deep in South Philadelphia, in the gritty Italian Market made famous by Rocky. According to the police, Keyon clutched a direct-connect cell phone and scanned the darkness for "Jake," the code word he and Taleon had come up with to refer to the cops. As Keyon stood watch, his brother, dressed in black, scaled a wall of Yo! Beauty Supply with a sack of cutting tools. He sawed through the roof, lowered himself into the building, and, police say, hacked open the ATM. Moving swiftly, he slipped into the wings joint next door and, within minutes, allegedly cleaned it out, too.

Police from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware had set up a task force to stop the mysterious rooftop burglars who were targeting businesses in all three states. A stakeout team had been following Taleon for weeks. As they surrounded the building, police say, Keyon two-wayed his brother: "Cops are all over the place!" So much for the code word. The model was yanked from his Passat and handcuffed just after he heard his brother's response: "Oh, shit."

Taleon escaped and resurfaced several hours later at a parking garage where police were waiting—they'd seen him drop off a car there earlier and figured he would try to speed out of the city. Just 50 yards from his ride, Taleon was dragged to the ground by officers. They chained his ankles and wrists.

The Goffney brothers were taken to a district headquarters. Taleon didn't talk during his interrogation; he'd been through this before. Keyon, however, didn't have a rap sheet. He told the police he was a model, explaining that he needed to make it to a big photo shoot. "We don't think that's going to happen," they said.

Gorgeous twins partnering up for Mission: Impossible–style heists may sound like the premise of a Hollywood action thriller, but the Goffney brothers' tale is more the stuff of David Lynch. In the days that followed their arrests, photos and video surfaced showing the siblings engaged in hard-core gay sex, including a three-way with triple-X woodsman Marc Williams, star of such hits as BlackBalled 5.

Aside from good looks and a last name, the twins didn't have much in common. Growing up, Taleon was the well-built jock; skinny Keyon liked French class and sang in Guys and Dolls. But both young men understood the struggle to get by. As late as 2004, when Keyon's modeling career was barely under way, he was still working odd jobs to help pay the bills. For Taleon, who had already done a prison stint for robbery, honest work was apparently hard to find. Taleon's attorneys did not make their client available to comment, but according to Keyon, when Taleon's boss at a fitness center found out he was an ex-con, he got canned. He ended up selling kung fu DVDs at a mall kiosk. Meanwhile, Keyon's job prospects began to change.

One night at a Manhattan dance club, a talent scout for Flava Works, a gay-porn outfit based in Chicago, approached him. No auditions, no casting calls—just a flight out for a few days of work and more money than he would normally earn in a month. Before long he had performed in four hard-core videos, making $500 to $1,000 for each.

Back in Philadelphia, at a club in a district known as the Gayborhood, Keyon met another scout, a freelancer connected with BlackMen.net, a website specializing in "Pure Black Male Beauty." He offered Keyon more money—if he could convince his brother to come along. There weren't many identical twins in "erotic modeling," making the Goffneys a rare and lucrative find. Unlike Keyon, Taleon was straight, but the deal was too good to turn down, and they figured no one they knew would ever see the footage. "You're getting $500, $800 checks," says Keyon. "That's why we did it. We needed the money."

Keyon insists he and his brother didn't realize what BlackMen.net had in store for them until they arrived in Atlanta. The website's owner—a guy who calls himself Xavier McDonald and speaks with a friendly southern twang—says the brothers knew what they were getting into. McDonald treated the Goffney boys to dinner at an upscale restaurant before the first shoot, in a room at their hotel. The plot was simple: Keyon invites his brother to watch a movie with him; they get aroused and start masturbating. For his generosity, McDonald received a thank-you note: "I had a great time and really appreciated the respect + time you guys shared w/us! Look forward to working w/you guys again soon." It was signed "Keyon + Teyon," the twins' porn names.

In the next two years, Keyon and Taleon shot five scenes for BlackMen.net, some of which involved acts that were just shy of incest, including the threesome with Marc Williams at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. "That was the first time Marc Williams bottomed on camera," says McDonald. It was Taleon, not his gay brother, who had sex with Williams. As McDonald puts it, "Within the small confines of black hard-core gay erotica, that was a pretty big deal."

It was enough of a big deal that, back home, Taleon started being recognized at his kung fu–movie stand. "I've got to find another way to make money," he told Keyon. In late 2006, police say, the rooftop burglaries began.

In May 2006, police detectives on stakeout duty at a reputedly drug-infested apartment complex in Clementon, New Jersey, noticed a guy goofing around, pulling off some impressive backflips. It was Taleon. The police say they watched him engaged in alleged drug trades, then moved in to arrest him for possession of drugs and carrying a loaded .25. With Taleon handcuffed in the back seat of a squad car, the cops set off for the station. Taleon had other ideas. According to the police account, Taleon used his legs for leverage and rammed his forehead into the rear driver's-side window, shattering the glass. Before the cops knew what was happening, he'd hurled himself headfirst through the window of the moving vehicle. Taleon was on his feet in seconds. The officers stopped the car and went after him on foot; he allegedly jump-kicked one and, soaked with sweat, slipped away when another tried to grab him. He dashed into the nearby woods and dove into a lake, using his legs to propel himself to the other side. "You know when you watched [Michael Phelps in] the Olympics?" says Clementon police chief Dave Kunkel. "That's how he was swimming." On dry land, Taleon stopped just long enough to taunt the cops he'd left on the far shore. One of the officers ended up in the hospital with shoulder, rib, and knee injuries. "You'll never catch me," Taleon shouted before disappearing into the night.

Camden, New Jersey, the Goffneys' hometown, ranks among the most violent cities in the nation—it's a place where nothing worth having comes easy. The twins' mother, Towana, gave birth to them when she was 15 and has spent most of her life bouncing from one job to the next—styling hair, cleaning houses, whatever paid the bills. Three more kids followed. As for the twins' dad, Keyon says, "He wasn't around much."

Keyon was close to his grandmother. As a teen, he'd stay with her in the Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn. He was captivated by New York and the freedom it offered to a kid struggling to accept his sexuality and escape the brutality of his peers. "High school," he says, "was war to me."

Eventually, Keyon found a mentor in a gay teacher. "He never said the word gay, but he would say it's okay to be different," Keyon says. After stints at two public schools and a few months at a center for troubled youths, he emerged with a hard-earned diploma. He was working at a jewelry store when a customer suggested he take up modeling. Keyon had always been fashion-conscious, and this seemed like a career path that might lead to something. He signed up for classes at the Barbizon School of Modeling outside of Philadelphia, where he learned about etiquette, body movement, and the unforgiving nature of the business. "When I finally started to book commercials, I jumped up and down," Keyon says. "Then I get there, and there's so many boys, your confidence goes to the floor."

He found an agent and booked jobs for urban labels like Coogi. He worked in six states over one two-month span and started seeing his face on billboards and websites. He cultivated a network of friends who have aided him financially—giving him frequent-flier vouchers and helping with expenses like cosmetic dental work and chest implants. "I was just flat in some areas," Keyon says about his pec surgery. "I wanted to look better."

A few of his friends heard about his porn work, found footage online, and played it for him. "It was like watching a human autopsy," he says. "I couldn't look at it." Another friend, Mike Cintron, invited Keyon to spend Christmas with his family in 2006, not long after Keyon's last porn shoot. During that visit, Keyon broke into tears, remarking about how affectionate and close the Cintrons were.

Cintron heard his friend cry twice after that—there were the tears of joy on the day he was booked for the Barclays-Ralph Lauren campaign and then the anguished sobs after he'd been arrested. "Before, when you Googled his name, it was all modeling sites," Cintron says. "Now, it's 300,000 hits about rooftop burglaries. He just wants to get his life back."

In a sandwich shop two blocks from the garage where his brother was arrested, Keyon nervously toys with the salt and pepper shakers, rearranging them over and over. The queer brother introduces the straight brother to gay pornography; the crooked twin shows his law-abiding brother a life of crime; yin follows yang.

Keyon's agent has dropped him, but he's still getting work: a poolside fashion shoot at the Grace hotel in New York, a backstage job on The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency. He speaks about his arrest with icy detachment. But for now, his alleged actions and their consequences are inseparable—he's due to be tried this spring for burglary and other charges related to the beauty-shop break-in.

What he said to police is the centerpiece of the prosecution's case. During his interrogation the day of the arrest, police say, Keyon stated not only that his brother was "the mastermind" behind the crime but that his mother was in on the scheme as a second lookout. The cops say they saw her white Sequoia leave the scene. She awaits her court date with her sons. As for Keyon, he's counting on the defense-strategy hope that the police can't connect him to the other break-ins they claim the Goffneys orchestrated. "They caught me [at the beauty shop]—I'm not denying it," he says. "But prove to me I was at 40 different places. Anything I told [the police], it was out of fear."

The survival instinct is to the Goffneys what omertà is to La Cosa Nostra. When the heat came down in South Philly, the cops say, Taleon ran. Mom sped off. Keyon, alone and crying in the interrogation room, said what he said. He frequently mentions his love for his mother and brother, but then again, in Keyon's quid pro quo world, relationships are often transactional. "You protect your neck," he says. "I care about people who care about me. Anybody else, relative or not, you don't care about me? Fuck you."

Taleon's knack for making police look foolish has made him a big target for the district attorney's office. He's been locked up in Pennsylvania since February 2008, and in November he was sentenced to up to eight years in prison for a one-man rooftop burglary. He's awaiting sentencing for the alleged Houdini-style escape in New Jersey, which prosecutors there have nicknamed the "Superfly" case.

Even if Keyon stays out of jail, his modeling dream has become warped with irony—he's not famous for his face; he's infamous for his deeds. It's hard to imagine anything stranger could follow the Goffney boys' bizarre saga, but it's easy to picture Keyon cashing in a friend's frequent-flier miles and shipping off to Los Angeles. With his pretty face, his newly buff pecs, and his backstory of danger, sex, and life on the mean streets, he is a reality-TV star waiting to be born. The modeling business, once his ticket to a glamorous new life, is now inextricably tied to his sordid past. "It's a hustle," Keyon says. "Just like anything else."

Its official Hip Hop is in the cultural stratosphere!

Shinique Smith had a Graffitti themed Installation at the Studio Museum in Harlem. The Roots are the house band for Jimmy Fallon's Late Night Show. "Recognize" broke attendance records at the National Portrait Gallery. Kehinde Wiley , world famous Portrait artist, just opened a studio in China! And today I saw Lil Wayne in the National Museum of African Art.

I haven't been to the Freer Gallery of African Art in years. I decided it would be great way to spend the afternoon, considering the cost. I am always curious at the lack of attendance to the Smithsonian. Some exhibits are better than any $15concert, $10 movie, or $1 beer. Artists in Dialogue: Antonio Ole and Aime Mpane is one. Lil Wayne pops up in this exhibit via a piece that Mpane created in collaboration with local Washington youth. From what I read, Mpane during a class invited the youth to select playing cards that had been painted over white. The selected cards were then used as canvases for doodles that communicated the youths feelings about race. Lil Wayne's name was written above a figure complete with sunglasses, long hair, and a skull cap. What surprised me was that I recognized the figure in such a thumbnail and abstract fashion.
Be sure to check out this exhibit! It runs through August 02, 2009.

It occurred to me that Hip-Hop was completing an ascendancy. I am planning with every friend and Okay player citizen I know, to get to the Late Show. I actually tuned in to watch Lil Kim do a Cha Cha, and not show her Chacho! I'm a little worried by what is next. Is there a Hard Knocks Cafe ( Trademark Pending) on the way? Will I be seeing Kimberly Jones " Lil Miss Finishing Schools"? Are the Roots going to be able to stay Hip-Hop and change the American Songbook. The possibilities are endless. Entrepreneurs break out your Crystal Balls, and get ahead of this trend.

Female Acne and Hormones

Female Acne and Hormones

I am as female as I want to be and this issue is very dear to my existence. HORMONES ARE THE KEY TO EVERYTHING! This is an extremely good article on the subject. As a male, I think of the connection between my hormones and my appearance everyday. I am not an exception!

Gmail - SAT 2/14! SHAKE IT for VISIONS IN FEMINISM!! - kofirichard@gmail.com

http://mail.google.com/mail/?hl=en#inbox/11f6c6db6d01f79b

Over it: I dont date hip hop heads

I love hip hop. I am hip hop. We are the same age. But I have wandered in the desert of MTV schizophonia since the great schism of east coast -vs- west coast.Currently, I am more into the Commons, Andre 3000's, and newbies like Black Milk and Chester French ( get into them). 

The major problem is that Hip Hop is anti romance. And my refuge of R&B had become all sex. I am not saying that all of it is. Actually, beginning a few years ago Hip Hip grew up and morphed beautifully into the basis for a worldwide indie movement. The problem is the mature hip hop was tuned into by people much younger than me. My problem is I can't date anybody younger than me. ( I know perish the thought!) Whatev! The real: Hip hop heads my age bought into all that machismo imagery and think that's how you keep a man. 

Just recently I got a text promotion inviting me to a Thugged Out nite, where wearing "Timbs" got you free drinks.  I am just tired of people not acknowledging there fetishes. That look is no more masculine than any leather chap wearing Levi's loving daddy bear at any Eagle from here to Roma! The hip hop thug is all about mystique. You have probably had the experience of taking a brutha home. Teasing his magnum filler to perfect form and then bam the  legs fly up! I am more than happy to help a man out but, damn, every time!

You can always tell the tops at a hip hop party. They stand out.  They have allot to pick from, depending on their age and physical shape. The night you meet them, its all good. You know that's part of the fetish. "12 am on my way to the club..." They have to meet you in the club, thats where the Ho's at! That night can be as romantic and fun as any. Flirty looks, and sexy texts. Then part two of the fetish; the oral exam. Somebody is gonna get licked, and you better be ready when the moment strikes. Head in the car, ten bonus points! I have rarely made it past the garage. You will always be able to spend the morning. But when the sunrises get over it. Trust me Sunday morning is the litmus test for any relationship. As a routine Meet the Press watcher I can't tell you how many times I had to miss it for one more roll in the sack. 

I would prefer " cheese eggs with Welch's grape" and my pundits. I rarely got food for breakfast. I know everybody is screaming ;where is the problem! Its in the lack of real lifestyle. I can be down with casual sex. Just stop acting like you are not cruising for trade at the hip hop party and we can both get a nut and be on our way! 

If your are a romantic lost in Hip Hop queerdom leave a comment!

IT: WEEKND 02/06-02/08

1)HAPPY 21rst to my princess;

SO my beloved younger sister turned 21 and I had blast showing her how I do. I got her a fabulous suite at the quaint and romantically beautiful Hotel Lombardy. (I love my hook-up power!) I took her to my friend Tony Villa and his friend Dance Diva Rachel Panay ( not Phillipino!) get down glam fest at my fav Bar BEbar. I never had the chance to wshow her my lifestyle and wanted so bad for her to enjoy. SHE Lived! The queens never disappoint! Drunken Linda Evangenotso, Beyonce's mini- me Drag Star Epiphany, and the variably dressed sundry clubbers, Thank You.My sister was tickled paisley with the shenanigans which full filled every stereotype while shattering them. Nightclubs are participatory theater, and Tony and RP give you a show where being backstage, onstage, and in the audience are one & the same! We hopped in the stretch and made our way over to Fly Lounge. I love the red carpet. The staff ( especially Italian It GM P) at the underground spot made my little sister feel right at home. The DJ Chuck Koch blended the nowest hip-hop with danciest Electro. Fly takes you there! Thank you for living up to my hype! While there I ran into the Amahzing D'Maz. This man is on the path to It boy Hall of Fame. Check out his TV show www.hitspotmedia.com . My little sis will be making appearances more often. Attention Must Be Paid!

After working the morning after no sleep; my functional haze dragged me to the Vagina Monologues. Eve Ensler's one woman show made into a fabulous ensemble piece starring 5 of the most intriguing Black womyn stars of stage, TV, and radio. Queen Ayaisha emceed in a relatable sisterfriend/Diva fashion. She took all the anxiety out of the audience. She joked about  all of our fears and wants. Even the First Lady Michelle got a shout out as Queen jokingly portrayed a conservative White House striptease. She was a good lubricant for the next two hours of vagina stories. The biggest surprise of the night came from Deelishis ( who cares what her real name is). The woman can hold your attention with a whisper. She held her own and a few other persons to. Kitten Queen Lisa Raye made a turn as a multitude of womyn she has versatility for your nerves. Mama Ella Joyce of Roc fame performed the most emotional of the monologues. She never lets you down. her emotional range and clear diction more than overcompensate for her black Rebecca D'mornay carta. I live, no shade. Dick Gregory's progeny Ayana is a force of nature. She emoted all over the place delivering the monologues of the War Rape Camp survivor and an Arabic woman trapped in the archaic world of the Taliban. My friend Dr.Ro acted as the help guide for the show. She closed the show with her strong and instructive demeanor. There were more performers , of course.

The one thing I noticed was the disconnect with some of the material for the largely African American audience. There were allot of Cultural references that just failed. The next day, while explaining my concern to a friend from Spain, I discovered that it had no resonance with her either. If Miss Eve got all these stories, she needs to create more culturally appropriate texts for the various women. As a one woman show the diversity is great. But six revered black women beatboxing out C U N T is not the ticket. I have never heard a black woman say that word.  It is just not appropriate for the majority of the audience. I don't care how many b0oks are written about it, Cunt does not matter to Black Women. Here is my advice to any future producers: If it does not Resonate! You must Translate!.

Sundays are my favorite and this one was one of the best. We checked out of the hotel and i went bopping around in the sunshine gift hunting for the sisters Birthday dinner. I made my way over to the Josephine Butler House ( A gorgeous home located adjacent to Malcolm X Park). My girls were crafting and DJing it up at the in house fair. The one thing I notice about the crafty set is their classic disregard for pleasantries. They are usually adorable, but they have the personalities of Daria. Think Juno. My girls Mother Sheister Darby, and RAT work the front corner to a tizzy .  RATs very IT screenprints of female rock legendistas are  so now they will be big in Japan next year. The Grace Jones Members only jacket is the underground fashion alarm ringer for the summer. 

Made it to dinner in PG county at the scrumptuous Topolino's. Then, Back to Dupont for a Grammy viewing party with Tony and Rachel at Level One. The Grammys were boring and I was tired of being the odd Black Girl out around cheerful Martini drinking duponters. I mean honestly honey you aren't at the Grammy's.My chocolate martini, delish, the company interesting, ambience modern ikea homey. Overall the experience should be recreated with a livelier crowd. 

* My picks Adele, Duffy, Estelle, and the new Lil one thats not Bow Wow took their categories!.

What did you do this weekend! (Leave a comment)

Art and real estate?

My fabulous female friends Lisa Marie T and DJ Natty Boom, rocked out the Hounshell Real Estate office on 14th street. Lisa Marie and created a portrait on the spot( that I almost ruined by suggesting the sweater be colored fuschia! So gay!). Natty Boom rocked out the decks, spinning her brand of grundgy rock/dance music. I have never partied so hard in a cubicle!

All the cutesters were out. Marvins  superstar manager Sheldon served in his classic (guy from hitchhikers guide) meets Afro-Punk look. Wearing Italian shoes, Black slim pants ala Mick Jagger, fitted Button down, a classic wine colored Cravat, Woody Allen frames, a leather(esque?) trench, all topped off with his fabulous forward sloping Mohawk. J'adore!

The other fashion story of the night belongs to thingstring.com. Created by artist/ magician David London ( sounds famous right), thingstring is style-next up. Wanna make your American Apparel sweat shirt hit the edge? Take a spool of  contrasting colored thread unwind and randomly place it anywhere you like. Shocking! Im not joking. Its a conversation piece for the age of randomness. I have never laughed more than the time I first encountered the trend on Ayo ( Co owner of  Gallery on Hst.) I walked up to him and said "Let me get this" , yanked it off  as he yelled " No, that is my string!" I was down with his eccentricity but a pet string was pyschtacular. He remedied this quickly by unspooling some thread he had in his pocket and thus annointed me into the thingstring circle. That incident was at least a year ago. Meeting the creator of thingstring was like finding out there was a toothfairy ( only less bloody).

The Look of the Night

Belongs to none other than Dj Selina. She is the most fabulous woman I know ( Sorry Yall). On this night in particular she used her unique sense of proportion and color scheming to create a one woman art show. Flat eighties boots, led up to thick knit leggings, underneath a chalk white pencil skirt w/ Day-Glo pink piping, belted with a thin plastic hot pink piece, paired with a purple and black asymmetrical boat collared long sleeve tee, accented by a zipper across her breast plate, layered over a Day-Glo green tank, all accessorized by her turquoise earmuffs which she wrapped around her wrist! I hate her! 

There were many looks to be seen but only one winner. 

The Party was a blast. I always have fun with my gurls. I love you all!

Its not just a fucking party!

This is my first post and, it was supposed to be a manifesto,but this post is far more important! I have made a career out of partying. Bon vivant, liver of the good life,  citizen of the leisure society, etc. partying has taken up most of my young life. It was not until now that I realized just how important a party can be.

Last winter, my fledgling DJ career began.  A friend asked me to come and play music for the early part of his , now defunct, weekly hip-hop party catering to the young black all boy crowd. Although I hadn't a clue about mixing , he trusted my taste, and I figured it was a safe way to learn.A few months into the gig, I lamented to a fellow DJ and housemate how hard it was.  The promoters were flaky. There was never a consistent crowd. Bar management and staff were moody  and the drifters (who made up most of the business) were oblivious that they were crashing a party. Nobody seemed to care about what the poor DJ was going through, trapped in the middle.

Lesson# 1: A party is complicated!

To paraphrase my knowledgeable comrade replied " A party means allot. The party-goers are there to relieve stress. Bars are trying to sell liquor and keep there space. Promoters are in it for all sorts of reasons. A party is a fucking big deal!" I went in that week with a mission. I was performing a service and it was a duty to make the atmosphere live! I tried not to be annoyed by requests,but take them as learning tools. Building up my collection to go with what I heard asked for most. Playing songs that made the most people happy. It was a shaman like position, not a vulnerable one as I believed.

Over the next year I experienced many highs and lows. Many due to promoters.

Lesson#2: Promoters are flaky.

I have been linked to over a dozen promoters.  Foolishly I allowed myself to be tied to events that were underpromoted, overexaggerrated, but mostly plain dumb. Business is about assurity, and DJing would have to take a backseat to this reality. Loving something does not mean you have to suffer for it. 

I got a backbone eventually. 

Lesson#3: The space is the key.

Late in 2008 there was a murder near one of the venues I spun at regularly.Washington DC Hub -- (Gay Washington DC?) Towleroad, blog with ...

It sent shock waves through my little community. I got calls from friends all over the country asking if I know the victim. I did not, but had seen him out at local bars. The soap opera that followed enlisted a cast of community activists, church leadership, city councilman, and the venue. The bar itself was only implicated due to proximity. Apparently/allegedly the gentleman was on his way to the venue at the time. Vilification ensued as the daggers flew. It was a shameful/learning/pitiful/beautiful experience. 

Lesson#4: Safety is a premium

So here it is a year later and I am still learning to Party. Learning the constant negotiation of public safety and carnal desires. Getting to know what I once thought was just a fun hobby, has transformed me.  Responsibility is a muthafucker!