DAY 7 + 8 + 9 June 6th ,7th and 8th

The following 72 hours are not things to be read by my parents, people who have issues with having a bit too much fun, people who might be looking to employ me after my boss reads this and considers firing me while I am away (actually, truth is, after reading this he might give me a raise).

Is it a problem that the minute my emotions and outlook in London began to get in check all the actual happenings that started taking place became scattered and messy? To better understand the fast forward - rewind of the past couple of days, THE FOLLOWING IS A NON LINEAR COLLAGE OF EVENTS:

HORSEMEAT DISCO LONDON with
HONEYSOUNDSYSTEM FROM SAN FRANCISCO
SUNDAY JUNE 8th

QUENTIN HARRIS'
KISS MY BLACK ASS
in LONDON
FRIDAY JUNE 6th



the afterparty, matt:


Jim's doggie Stitch:


Saturday Night the 7th

Jim Stanton set us up a gig to play records for the Eagle London's Mr. Eagle competition Night #2. Jim and I both agreed that this was going to be girls night out, bros before ho's. It was going to be our night to bond and party the way only we can when mixed and stirred. On our way in 30 minutes late (Jim and I are like long lost twin dingleberries) we headed to the secret second floor of the venue which is a residential type flat. The office, which is also a living-room, greeted us with quite the dichotomy. Sitting in the coffee table was an array of oversized black dildos, sealed gay porn dvd prizes, and a couple of other unmentionables. Sitting on the couch across from said spread were three suited London police officers in their full regalia. Immediately "straightened out" I put on my innocent face and Jim begins to do his "we are boy scouts, honest" dance. Never-mind the dramatics, these were the "gay liaison" police of London clubland (no joke) and the nicest-dyke-flanked-by-2-gentlemen-officer pigs I have every met. It was official, at the minute the officers apologized to US for their presence, I had fallen in love with London --PROPER!

Skip the pathetic contestants, the largest nipples you have ever seen (titpig eat your heart out), skip also the fold out felt-covered sex room dance-floor , and skip the HOUSE-NO trip me and jimbo were on. Lets go straight to DISCO BLOODBATH!

I had heard about Disco Bloodbath times already over the course of the weekend and boy did it sound like a Popscene or Blow-up...NO THANK YOU. I must say, the Tourist in me comes out and I made Jim put us on the list for club Fabric with the line-up this night being Francois K, Prosumer, and Murat Tepeli (LIVE). Needless to say Fabric never happened and Bloodbath IS THE HAPPENING! Til 6 AM this sweaty raunchfest of guitar driven disco edits, DJ's from Gucci Soundsystem and the famed Turk label, with sound so fucked and crunchy you hate to love it, this joint had kids and hand-clap heads alike dripping with shivers. A mixed crowd of straight and gay, this was very much a Donuts (S.F.) style affair and GOD DAMN WAS THE MUSIC GOOD!

The whole club singing in unison hit of the night:
RAFF's SELF CONTROL (the dj cut out the cheezy rap mix)

Whether is was the lack of ventilation or all the fit youngins, wither way my camera would only take pictures in its cosmicly stoned Barbarella filter mode.

PLEASE INSERT: Drunked move-making and PDA dancefloor makeout with a hot tall straight looking local DJ sensation who will remain nameless. My last sexy action of London part 1

SATURDAY / SUNDAY MESSY AFTERPARTY

I met 9Bob at Gay Bingo a week ago. He reminds me an awful lot like Spider, Jaime Anderson, Toph One etc. He's one of the heads behind Glastonbury Festival's NYC DOWNLOW and looks like he just got done raping you in the shower of a UK prison (and boy did you like it!)

From the moment I saw this wanker I knew how it was going to go.

PAUSE! --> The stweardess just announced they have "5 game in one cards with a chance to win being one in fifty, for 1 pound each. Are they seriously selling scratchers on this plane using the P.A.? Is there seriously going to be somone screaming "I WON, I WON!" on this plane. GROSS, where are the snakes when you need them?

Back to 9Bob... There is always something about honest to goodness locals. 9Bob being a guy who was born and raised in London, he is very much in the stylings of DPW Burning Man: gentle on the inside, cunty on the outside, but always getting somthing done.

PAUSE! ---> No shit, they are now selling 90 pound Yves Saint Laurent perfume using the P.A. of this plane. PUSHERS! PUSHERS!

Urging us to come back to his bloke Robert's place after Disco Bloodbath (my trick had vanished, record bag + all) 9Bob works a deal with a cabbie and we head out in the morning light. Roberts turns out to be the nicest flat I visited all week (never did get to see the inside of Severinos!). Complete with a balcony that overlooks a collection of backyard gardens, this flat was three stories and just the kind of clean environment you want to balance out dirty partying.

9Bob and I go to get beers (a non-stop delicacy here) at the corner shop. It about 7:00 am. We find the bagel factory where we grab fake Jew breakfast for everyone and head back. On the way back 9Bob gets a call from Robert asking where we are. 9Bob proceeds to tell everyone that I punched a woman in the bagel shop and was arrested and that he was working on getting me out. Obviously the frenzy they had gotten into about this was not enough for them to have left the house by the time we got back for a big laugh!

The neighborhood was fast asleep but we are just getting started. First to go was 1/2 of Gucci Soundsystem, passed out on the couch listening to unreleased Serge Santiago BANGERZ!

Second to go is repeat offender, old school london DJ and friend of DJ Harvey and gang. We had brilliant chats about the old Tonka rave days and the days when no one wanted to book Harvey because he was a disco too ahead of its time!

Lastly 9BOB, Jim, Eric, and Robert and myself decided it was necessary to make adventures happen. A bag of handpicked country-side UK fungi later, SKIP the random street festival of kids making sick African rhythms in multicolored costumes, SKIP the gorgeous park full of sunbathers, SKIP the Hassidic Jew pushing his child away from me and my 2 day old leather man outfit, and SKIP the short lived Guinness foaming beer sprint race between 9bob and Eric, LETS GO STRAIGHT TO THE CEMETARY:

An old timey hot-mess. This cemetary is full of headstones covered in a decor of people who didn't give a fuck then and people who don't give a fuck now. A notorious gay cruise spot, bend me over and call me beloved-ly remembered. As if the place couldn't get any better, we sprinkled our own daytime disco-bereavements here and there.

THIS WEEKS CATEGORIES ARE:

• Professional Tranny Fierceness
• Shank Me, Stab Me, Just Dont Shoot Me REALNESS
• The Londoner Page 3+6 HOTTIE Exclusively done
• Openly Fabulous, Closing Down the House Quentin Harris Originals
• Is Spandex to Lycra a Costume Change for $500 Alex?
  

(c) Homochic 2008