IBIZA 2008

Not ready to talk about IBIZA yet, maybe I should get checked first ;)
heres the skinny:


(c) Homochic 2008

So I finally started to get Euro-home-sick today, big time. I was responding to a queen from Glastonbury's message on Facebook and I just got this sinking feeling about being in U.S. again. There is so much shit going on in th city right now but really nothing compares to what I got to experience. It is very bizarre to experience something as mind blowing as getting a free ticket and 3-star shuttle bus ride and main stage performing slots to one of the biggest, oldest music festivals in the world and come right back to dj'ing the deco lounge in the Tenderloin San Francisco.

To start off Glastonbury I decided that I must start my first impressions with a gag. I wore the strawberry blonde "nordic butt rock" wig that Ambrosia Salad stole for my trip from H&M SF mannequin dressing wig box and decided I would try to play it off as my real hair for the entire first 6 hours of my Glasto experience. The wig looked horrendous and only Severino, Jim, and the Texan knew the entire buss ride the ridiculous look I was pushing. All the other queens on the bus are London's premier drag royalty, all of whom have paid their dues to the stage and asked to go on this all expenses paid trip all to embellish New York City Downlow, the only gay nightclub to ever grace the muddy waters of the festivals hillsides. This was the second year and many of the tranny's aboard the bus had been there for its first year inception.

All I knew of this mystical New York 1970's throwback homage was the pictures of the front of the venue. I had no idea that behind the facade was a huge 300 person back box nightclub under a vinyl tent complete with vintage disco lighting and ghetto, neon lit, bar, and fabulously stripped down backstage.

Skip the long bus ride which included a blown up car on the highway that made the bus have to go on a long detour that got us no where. Skip finding the two San Francisco kids on the bus who had just flown out the day before to work the bar at the Downlow. Lets go straight to the grand entrance. After we finally found the "talent" entrance it turned out that we were going to get a cunty escort service by festival cops in front of the coach and in back of the coach riding us all the way through the festival grounds to where the club was located. This is unheard of and so It was quite bizarre to have all of the queens in face, the bus's busted P.A. bumpin crunchy disco sounds, and every range of reaction to this blatant display of faggotry. One thing is for sure, whether everyone was into the parade I sure loved the preview I got to the delicious meat horsing around on day 1, droool!

Once to the Downlow, to no surprise, there was a red carpet waiting along with the butch builder crew, a bumpin' soundsystem, champaign, spectators + press with flashing cameras!
It had begun.

Fast forward, the first night at the DL was no soft opener, it being a Thursday night and barley any live acts on at the festival stages EVERYONE headed for the little clubtown / burning man rip off island complete with weird art cars, robot things, and fire. Trash City is where the Downlow resides. Outside, and a new addition to the ever expanding project, there is balcony that looks from the exterior like a blown out second floor apartment building complete with shower, telephone, and even toilet! The first night I decided to get up there (as was done every night) and taunt the line to get into the club by screaming nonsense in my American accent through a megaphone. The response was always mixed, the last night of the festival I got up on this very balcony in a wig and the HNY speedo and really let the crowd have it. At one point I was being shot at by kids with marshmallow cannons and other revelers climbed up the dangerously fake set to try to get to my throat. Below me there was always a scene of various Downlow tranny's freaking out hippie grandma's and straight boys on E.

Inside the Downlow was one of the greatest gay nightclub experiences in the world, throwback WHATEVER, this is a real thriving living experience like no other in the world. No comparing. Its like if Burning Man had a good nightclub, with drag acts, and great music, and good lighting, and a cunty bar. I really would actually like the videos to speak for themselves, there is just too much to say and very little I want to express. I didn't cry when it was over, I should have.

The backstage on the other hand... The campsite... three words: HOT TRANNY MESS.
What do you get when you add Ma Butcher (London Tranny), a boom box, a cd with "the sun will come out tommorow" on loop for god know how many hours, and daylight creeping into a campsite full of workers from Trash City (not all clued into the NYC Downlow vibe)? You get a lot of angry, tired, hung over queens ready to kick some balls in pantyhose. Check out the video of the two tranny's on the bail of hay and you can see the post-camp-singalong-looks.

Who is SCOTTEE? Scottee is the hot new kid promoter / dj / performer with a bestfriend / sidekick that might as well be a handbag or Prada accessory the way he was NEVER not more then two steps behind scottee the entire 4 days. SCOTTEE and his sidekick whos name I really never got solid were always working the club-kid meets Beetle juice meets 77 punk meets bowie meets oscar the grouch vibe. They were always in a cunty mood and always ready to throw weeks old uncut nails at you at any appropriate moment. Definitely high up on my list of Down low favorites.

One of my favorite performers of the whole trip, Pia, who has a brilliant page portrait in the BUTT MAGAZINE (no shit I took like a million copies, ask me for one) designed program for the Downlow weekend events and bios. She is featured as the head to toe covered in fake blood diva in one of the backstage youtube videos from the downlow and also featured in one of the very first videos on the blog at Gay Bingo. Pia is a genuine gender fuck diva like no other, she has attitude, she can drive a truck, and she can make couture out of sleeping bags and gaffers tape (see the vogue ball). She is kind of like if Bambi of banned from Trannyshack San Francisco fame, had an illegitimate child and neglected it into brilliance!

And then there is Johnny Woo from Gay Bingo weeks before. Lets just say from the bitch that I thought she was from meeting her out of face the first time, this queen turned things around for me. She IS LA, she IS NY, she IS SF, and she owns LONDON! Whether it was her flawless mike adlibs, almost getting arrested for freebasing in stale 24 hour drag in front of Glasto-cops, wearing an clear pink plastic pool toy as a dress for 2 days, voguing for the London Guardian's VIP tent, or just being real, Johnny is a legend for a reason. Johnny must be seen to be believed, move over tired fat SF diva's there is a real stage presence to be had and its half your size and twice your ego.

Every night the backstage was something different and something exactly the same. Lots of beer and cocktails, lots of powder on the face and powder up the nose, and lots of hot talk. There was always a theme each night especially the night of the Vogue Ball which consisted of three out of it judges and categories that were debated like 3 weeks ahead of time.

Every day I tried to go out and experience something new about the 180,000 person festival. My favorite concert experience was by far MGMT and then BATTLES on the same stage killing it! My favorite outside of down low experience was getting it on in a tent listening to Leonard Cohen live on the main stage. The said boy will be a re-occurring character who would eventually be responsible for leaving me on a plane back to the U.S. drunken post-nasties shambles.

Favorite festival was Jamaican Jerk Chicken, Rice, Fried Plantains, and Beans.

Favorite bathroom experience was taking a shit during Andy Butlers set backstage at the Guardian VIP fully flushable private stalled "Bright Pink Oasis Area."

Things not to do at Glastonbury:
Wear wellies without socks
Not wear wellies
See a DJ during daylight (boring)
Don't avoid the hippie food, its the best for you and totally worth the price
If you gotta shit, use a long drop, the Glastonbury special toilets that are exactly how they sound
The Country Stage

Things to do at Glastonbury:
Jazz Stage
Laugh at Jay-Z
Get cellphone reception
Make straight boys uncomfortable


(c) Homochic 2008

June 16th + June 17th

NEW BERLIN VIDEOS - WATCH FIRST - EXPLANATION LATER

SNAX (Captain Comatose) LIVE at FESTIVAL KREUTZBERG:


GAY MUSIC FESTIVAL STREET FAIR:




TURKEY WINS A SOCCER MATCH = MADNESS:


ME + JON go to terrible scary rave called SABOTOGE:




Night one in Berlin was spent at Cookies. Cookies is a weird club that has a ghetto front room that this night featured the more inspired party goers in the space and some choice Disco djs. The back area of Cookies is huge, maybe 500 cap? The look is cute and could very easily be a ballroom from a 1970's Las Vegas hotel/club. When inside the cigarette smoke makes for no need for a smoke machine and kinda got to me about 5 minutes into my visit. The dj's in the mainroom played the most uninspired big-minimal-house music they could get their hands on. Regardless, the venue was gorgeous and had a nice central placed dancefloor, a bit lower then everything in the room. Celebrity sighting number 1 when Daniel Wang showed up to the party with bells on.

Day two in Berlin was about running errands, seeing a bit more of the city on the newly rented day-bike and then meeting Prosumer aka Achim. Given my affinity for his music I was pleasantly suprised to hear that Jeffrey wanted to introduce me.

(c) Homochic 2008

INTERNET FINALLY!


The following was the last night in Berlin. Things that happened that can never be mentioned, things that happened that must be mentioned. This is footage of a new friend named Bambi posting flyers for his Berlin Pride event called Mehr Cher. It was at a superclub called Monster Rhonson's Karaoke which is a gay karaoke bar with a deep dancefloor, bar, bathroom tiled billiards / smoking room and a stripper pole. These fucking flyer's with Cher's head on them were EVERYWHERE. Prosumer for some reason got the idea in his head that the leather hat I wore one nigh made me look like Cher so he called me Cher for like 24 hours (wasn't too thrilled on that one)


BAR 25 Behind the DJ booth. Its dark because everyone is in a fucking K hole, this video is actual footage of a k-hole.


The first of many videos that might be better left on my harddrive and not floating around cyberspace. This video is the exit from Basso, a brilliant underground art space / party spot that Boris + Massimiliano were djing for a birthday party. Its about 5am and we are heading to Berghain / Panorama bar, one of the most notorious nightspots in the world. Started as a gay bar, this beast has so many rumors flying around about it that I was as giddy as a school girl when the time finally came to get a piece. The lineup was Berghain residents all night including a daytime slot by Prosumer in the outdoor terrace area from like 12 or 1 to like 6 pm. As I will explain much more in detail later, this is a video of special suprise guest and constant reoccurring character of my trip, D J K a o s who was showing us superstar wasted realness.


There is about 3 pages of text that must go with this video. This is a DJ Boris + Kaos outside of the entrance of Berghain. Boris was quite the sweetheart putting up with K a o s who was BLITZed. Boris walked the entire group into the club (where he is a resident) and then bounced never to be seen again (it was a slow night in the club). The entrance is a sketchy as it looks, chain link, dogpatch style area, no sign of life, cracked out people walking out. No photos of the inside of Berghain / Panorama bar have ever surfaced. It is not allowed to take pictures inside during club hours. The club is an abandoned electrical power station gutted and remodeled to look like where bruce wane aka batman goes to get his dick sucked to hard techno and fist Robin when he's not being party bottom. The coat check of Berghain is better then any San Francisco club

.

Okay, I am back in London. Its 24 hours before I return from my brilliant 6 week tour of Europe.
I have been terrible in the past two weeks. I have over 4 GIGs of video and pictures to catch you all up on.

I have had sex in the bushes on gay beaches in Ibiza. I have made out with adorable young things in a crazy 1979 throwback tent in Glastonbury, UK. I have had trannies yelling at me in foreign tounges while spinning brand new records from Berlin's Hardwax in front of hundreds of people covered in mud.

I have a tan.

I have finally seen Ricard Villalobos and he is SO gay!

I have been bitten over and over by mosquito's and I have felt the wrath of a jelly fish!

It is my duty in the next three day to fill you up to date in exact detail about the past 14 - 18 days.

I mean, I haven't even told you about Berghain the greatest club on earth, the real gay church, the paradise garage of techno. I get chills thinking about it every single time!






(c) Homochic 2008

Okay so today was the day I was supposed to update you all about Berlin and the 7 days of no internet access but pure brilliance. I am back in London with a 24 hour sickness from this past weekend of raging and I am off to Glastonbury tommorow morning for 4 days of fagging out proper.

The pictures from Berlin are brilliant. Berghain was the most amazing place I have ever been to and it was supposedly an "empty" night.

Bar 25 was SILLY SILLY

The boys were cuuuuuuute.

So lemme tell you that even though there is not going to be a proper update for a while, it will be worth the wait. When you are all hungover from your Pride weekend you can sit down with a cup of coffee and I will have quite the cumdown stories for you.

xoxoxo

(c) Homochic 2008

ROME CHIAMPINO to BERLIN

UPDATED BELOW 7-13-2008

OKAY, so I am in Berlin. I just had some of the dirtiest sex of my life in a backroom with someone "very special" and I have not blogged in like 4 days.

I had a nightmarish 24 hours of missing my flight to Berlin and then going back to the airport the next day just to get raped by the airline company I was flying with for all the money I made djing in Rome. Then after I get through security I realize I have lost my fucking phone!

24 hours later, I have rented a bike in Berlin and met Daniel Wang, Prosumer, and been to Cookies Club and eaten good Berlin food (which is kinda good food, not great).

I am sleeping at Jeffrey Sfire's place and he has been super sweet, taking me around to meet all of his friends and explore the city.

------------------------

Landing in Berlin was the first city where regardless of all the anxiety that comes with a touchdown in a completely foreign place I felt completely at home. Mind you I had things to worry about. Not only had I just spend about half a months rent on transporting my baggage and changing my flight but once past airport security I realized I had lost my phone. I turned on my laptop only to find no wireless access. I went to the internet kiosk to find that it had euro's jammed in the payslot and that the digital payment system was as easy as getting Bush out of office (not easy). It wasn't until I realized that I had left my credit card in the internet death machine that I felt my insides start to quiver. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was getting on a plane. Other then that... where I was going when I got to Berlin, Giacomo's phone number, his address, whether or not he know when I was getting in, how to get from the airport to the city...

Deciding it was time to phone home and have a breakdown phone call to mom I try my luck at more antiquated land line technology. Waiting for the cast of the OC to finish calling mom and dad's accountant finally I get a phone. Euro's get rejected, a digital voice spits gibberish at me, I try a credit card, it gets spit out.

Rome Chiampino Airport TKO!

I sit down and give all of gate 25B my bottom scowl. The look must have worked as two electro indie kids with a Rolling Stone magazine sit next to me. After giving them the American accent and dropping some names I get to use their phone. I call the only numbers I have on me and get a bit of security from Francesco's voice telling me that he will try to contact Giacomo for me. This is strike three on the good visitor report card, it was time to make my exit, and fast.

The two electro boys turned out to be "The Ladykillers" from a smaller Italian city along the coast. It was going to be their first time in Berlin and they had me write down some places to go in payment for my phone calls. They proceeded to explain what the "Ladykillers" where and I played it straight for them. Saved by the bell we all got on the plane and I sat down next to a couple that turned out to be jet setters who ran a label for 8bit techno music.

The business card (pic soon):
(written in a creepy old english font)
Daniel F. Wehleit
big bleeper

Daniel Wehleit was your average computer nerd mit gorgeous and quite charismatic Italian girlfriend. His label, Bleep Street Records (myspace.com/bleepstreetrecords) is based in Berlin but originally from like some nordic city or some shit. He was very excited about the music and his label and was also excited to hear that I knew friends who used the hack-card that they produced to get beats and sounds from Nintendos. Him and his girlfriends enthusiasm about Berlin was meshing quite well with where my mood was going.

To be quite honest, this whole trip was about Berlin, an excuse to go, an excuse to get closer, and an excuse to go to Panorama Bar. The closer the plane got, the more relaxed I became. Daniel offered me his information if I had trouble with the gays and that was quite sweet. Once off the plane I headed past what looked like a customs desk (they must really not give a fuck, not even a passport check, no berlin stamp, nothing, I should have brought guns) and into the mini-baggage pick up and through the exit doors. Greeting me on the other side where the ever so adorable Giacomo and Jeffrey Sfire fully equip with German attitudes and Berlin area codes.

Danke, lets do this!

(c) Homochic 2008

Day 15 - June 16th

Up until today I have made very little mistakes as a traveler. I have had mostly good luck on my own and the best of people to show me the what to do and where to and when of these foreign places.

Today, the day I leave Rome from a week long stay and move on to the city I have been dreaming about since the first time I heard Ellen Alien, I made every stupid mistake a traveler could. So we begin...

I started my day by waking up and rearranging all of my belongings and cleaning the room I was staying in. I checked all my flight details to make sure I had enough time to get to the Airport and get everything I wanted to get done, done. I then went out and bought some last minute gifts for my Roman liasons and got a quick bite (a calzone from a local pizzeria which was filled with what looked like dog food but tasted delicious).

I came back to my house burned some cds and dvds and wrote notes for all the gifts. Then I packed up all my shit, said my big goodbyes and head out for the airport. In order to get to the airport I was going to (Ciampino) you must take a subway to a bus/shuttle line, pay for the shuttle which will take you to the airport. By the time I got to the shuttle service (called Terravision which sounds like a telemundo station and looks like the inside of a best buy) the woman behind the desk very rudely told me I was not going to make my plane. Flabbergasted I looked at my watch and looked at my flight times and realized she was right. The bitch at the counter said that my only bet was to take a cab which was a 30 Euro flat rate to the airport which is about $50 dollars US.

--pause: Francesco has picked me up during writing this entry and taken me out to a swanky magazine party and now I have come back from a gay bar called Max's. The rest of this entry has been written under the influence of a cute boy and his favorite drink that I adopted for an evening, beer and vodka---

Needless to say my first ever traffic jam in Roma was on the day I needed things to be swift. The tension in the cab was high, especially after I told the cabbie who spoke no english something with the word fuck in it. I got to the airport about 15 minutes after the last reservation time and rushed to the desk to hear the receptionist tell me I would not be allowed on the plane.

Okay, so there must be a higher power out there telling me something. Such a change in emotion in a hour. I cannot tell you how much I have wanted to see Berlin. To be honest, its like everyone I have ever mentioned the city to has raved on and on or their faces immediately turned into some kind of LSD relapse. Its not that I did not have fun in Rome but I just reallllllyyyyyyyy had my emotions in check so that I wouldn't explode with excitement until I got onto the plane I had just been denied. Things went sour and would continue to when I went to the counter to find out that EASYJET was really DIRTYWHOREJET airlines. To change my flight would cost another 50 Euros and the flight wouldn't leave until the next evening.

Next I had to call around and announce my walk of shame which included finding a place to sleep the night and admitting what a bimbo I really am. Afterwards I had to purchase another 10 euro busride to the airport, lug all of my shit back to the center of the city, eat a 10 euro tourist meal and then at that point I had given up any decency I had and I took another cab to my place to stay for the night. Needles to say the cabbie this time didn't speak english either and took me for another 20 Euros when I got to my destination.

Total American dollars spent for the day so far on a circle to nowhere: $170

Francesco picked me up and took me to a magazine publication called Droma's house party in the posh northern part of Rome. It was very quaint and in a beautiful 1950s apartment building fit for the diaries of anne frank. Francsesco aka Phrannypack and I had a great conversation that I think connected us in a way I have not connected with anyone before. It is bizarre how much we are alike. Then he took me to the only gay discotech open on Monday in Roma. It is called The Max's (why are weird gay bars always named after max?). Built in the 1980s and still looking like a gay bar from the 80's Max's has a bizarre ALL mirror theme. Located under a hotel, the bar used to be the lobby for the hotel until it was converted. The bar has different rooms that separate it from its main bar, dancefloor, lounge, and smoking room. EVERYWHERE are mirrors that give the bar a bizarre dissonance and depth. The guys are pretty dull and it has the feel of Badlands. Fortunately there were a couple of hot boys in attendance one of which spoke some English and had a dark redish beard. We chatted for a bit and then he decided he would skip out on his scooter ride and walk me home. Oh great, I miss my flight to meet a cute boy who plays guitar and drums, speaks adorable English and dresses like he's in San Franciscan and going to Trans Am AND is still living his ex-boyfriend and isn't feeling like fucking someone new yet ( OMG he's like SO San Francisco! Ring a bell boys?).

Do I have a couple of pick up lines these days that make boys fall in love with me...
#1 Do you know Horse Meat Disco? Yeah we played there a couple of weeks ago
#2 Do you know Pink Narcissus? You don't, lemme tell you ...
#3 Do you like MGMT?

So this boy (Riccardo) as we are walking in the romantic night light of Roma says: do you know this band MGMT? --Cue the blue balls.

Photos of Forte Prenestino:

Each one of these walkways led either a stairwell
to old military officer quarters now a squat or
living room or to the underground
network of 100 prisons.



Prenestino during the day

Nazi graffiti littered the neighborhood.

The PhagOff Stage by day

Hippie kitchen/canteen with vegan options

The gorgeous BLU mural, humongous!


above: minimal / house legends in Roma
below: Scientology in San Francisco


One of many hot female Electrode Fest performers.

(c) Homochic 2008

Day 13,14 - June 14th + 15th

Okay so this is supposed to be the EPIC weekend recap, no?
Here is where I am supposed to tell you about the thousands of people that gathered in an abandoned Roman military forte that is called "100 prisons" because buried beneath is a labyrinth of 100 hundred prison cells. This is where I am supposed to explain the history of the Forte called Forte Prenestino and how it was taken over by punk rockers on Labor Day 1986 and has since been the longest running squat in Rome. This is where I am supposed to tell you about how the place has a huge beautiful BLU murial in one of its cathedral areas and has gorgeous graffiti murals lining the insides of the long brick tunnels and brick walls that ensconce the parklike surrounding area. This is where I am supposed to tell you about the comic book festival that will take place soon for the second year in the forte that places all of its vendors in a jail cell each underground. Here is where I am supposed to tell you about the all female DJ collective that organizes the two day festival known as Electrode and the event I played on stage in front of atleast a thousand dance crazed Romans. This is where I am supposed to tell you about the brilliant visuals all weekend at the festival and the importance of video and vj-ing here in Italy.

Well you will just have to wait because I am too tired and these fucking Romans smoke so many goddamn cigarettes that I am having sneezing fits.

TRUST THERE is SO MUCH TO TELL.

Let me take this moment to tell you about my outfit and promo for the Cruising set. In my limited time in Rome I did not see queens working many looks. Whether it is the fear of being bashed or "this butch moment in gay history" the queens were dressing down in the city. SO, when mama decided to throw on her Allan Herrera couture 1979 leathermen's outfit complete with maroon leather chaps and customized reversible leather vest needless to say she felt a bit out of place. The concept for the outfit was to fit the 1980 film by William Freidkin of which the entire set was an homage to.


After a couple of months of reworking original footage of the film to fit music and a slightly stilted narrative I asked Allan to create a theatrical costume for the two performances that would ensure when on stage at Electrode. He then came up with a reversible jacket that on one side had a yellow bandana motif and when flipped had red bandana and sequenced gashes and slashes to mimic a bloody murder scene. Then to add a bit of decadence, master jeweler Eric "Shutterlut" Stein crafted me a custom set of brass knuckles that spell PEEPLAY on the exterior. After all was put together before I left for Europe, Jody Jock did a smei-porographic promotional photo shoot of the look which was used on the poster featured below.

When Francesco aka WARBEAR told me that he had a special party planned for when I would be in Rome I believed him. We had tossed many emails back and forth about the importance of the presence of his portion of this event called Electrode. Essentially a 2 day rave set up in Rome's oldest squat, Electrode had a multitude of things going on within it which I gathered was apart of the promoting trend going on in the city (something for everyone, and a little bit of everything). I got a gist of what I was getting myself into when on every other street corner there was a wall covered with posters with my name on it (no fucking joke, lifesize color movie posters for Electrode everywhere I went).

The two day festival featured a bunch of people I had never heard of, delicious cheap dinner in the burning man style canteen, a glossed over but highly anticipated set by Vitalic (the Romans LOVE hard electro-techno), two stage areas, lots of boozing and mind melting, one really stupid fight, undercover gays on day one and making out gays on day two. After getting completely lost on my way to the venue the first day to meet up with Infidel the highly celebrated Roman Video DJ and artist I finally got to see this place. At the dead end of a major city street in a neighborhood named after the 100 jail cells buried beneath the military fortress I was about to enter was a parklike entrance with stairs and trees. Once inside there was a large arched tunnel covered in graffiti of all kinds. Once past the tunnel visitors are presented with three passageways two the three different areas of Forte Prenestino. The videos explain it much better then I can but in a nut shell there are three levels. The underground which as I said features 100 preserved interconnected jail cells which were used by the fascist regime to enslave and torture. You can wiki the forte and it will give you an idea of the current and previous state of this space.

Like I mentioned earlier, there is Burning Man vibe to the whole things. A melting pot of smelly and non smelly artist types and a mesh of the highest caliber of artisan craftsmanship and then hippie crap. Amongst the over curated wall murals is brilliant and massive mural by one of my favorite artists right now Blu. When talking to Valeria about the work:

ME: "I really love Blu's art because its always riding this line between non-violence and shock"

VALERIA (in one of her signature simultaneously hazy and commanding answers): "Better then violent, benevolent."

The first night the energy was on. I went up to Warbear and commented on how suprised I was to see so many female DJs. He explained that Electrode was actually put together by a collective of female djs that have been around since the 90s rave days. What a breath of fresh air, a huge professional music event, organized by women that wasn't promoted as a fish fest. And although the music was all over the board and 99% of it forcing me to drink more and more this unspoken female hug on the event made it special. The setting was just unlike anything I've seen before. The crowd, because the party was so well promoted and obviously THE place to be was across the board from punks, to queers, to jocks, to old schoolers, to promoters, to dorks. The party went until about 10 am at which point the sun was out and the rainbow carnage had become fully visible. Smile all around.

The second night, the one that featured Phag Off in the cathedral that featured Blu's mural, is a bit of a blur for me. One thing I do remember is the opening set by Hugo Sanchez from Phag Off and SubWOOFer. Really intrigued by Hugo from the things I have heard about him over the years I was a bit disappointed that I hadn't been able to hang out with him much. Seeing him behind the decks for the first time was going to be exciting and especially after learning so much about him over the week by prying information out of those around. The opening set at a festival of this size is no easy job. The night before the dj in the same area had incredible trouble working the cocktail hour. Hugo brought out the big guns, he started to decorate the empty dancefloor with some good vibe neu-disco sounds and feelers, slick mixes and a good vibes bouncing behind his decks. A fussy crowd of un-drunk gays and fresh arrivals Hugo stepped up his game and started to bang out some of the sickest electro grooves I have heard all year, his mixes were so sharp that I was pretty much freaking out and breaking into a sweat at hour one.

Hugo wears multiple hats. He is a resident DJ for Phag Off (which had been running for many years now) and is a promoter and resident for SubWOOFer Rome's bear super-party. He also runs an up and coming electric-disco label called Roccodisco featuring a solid lineup of musicians and upcoming releases. Hugo also has been friends and producing music with Rome hometown hero Rodion who's solid releases on Gomma have earned him an international dance floor presence. So, there is no doubt that Hugo has the taste and work ethic to be a good DJ but to hear it for myself... GODDAMN! Bangin.

In no time there was hundreds of people in the PhagOff area crowding the limited concrete dancefloor, and in no time it was show time for my Italian debut. Outfitted, video synced, and Valeria in a sheet hidden under the booth and ready to perform, I set out to dj one of the greatest sets of my current career. It was very San Francisco, trannies, 1970's throwback disco visual narrative, leather, cheap last minute props, and boys making out in a crowd full of off their tits straights. They ate it up, from me making out with Valeria performing as Al Pacino's girlfriend in the film to me getting handcuffed and murdered by Italo with huge fake steak knife. At one point I realized I was pumping my fist in the air in excitement but realized that it looked like I was sig-hailing the crowd. I kind of looked up at my hand and recoiled in terror for what It might have read as. Giving that the crowd made no notice I went on with my antics. About 20 minutes later (and even though some of those I have told this to do not believe me) a 20 something shaved head guy who was pushed up against the stage the whole set rocking out caught my attention and started to do the "hail Hitler." Mom and Dad would be proud.

The madness never stopped. After I got dragged off the main stage a murdered mary mess
the party ensued and pursued into the wee hours. Warbear banged the boxes for like 5 or 6 hours until we escaped in his getaway suitcase sized car. While everyone ran for their beds, Hugo and I decided it was time to move on to different adventures. It just so happened that the weekend I was in town was the weekend for the famous Sunday swap meet / market that happens once a month (the name escapes me). Armed with my portable record player, Hugo and I go in search for Roman treasure. Delirious from a hard night and no sleep we go in and out of consciousness only expelling energy for the few vinyl pockets the vendors held. Coming out unscathed we found a couple of ripe gems

What I do have time to tell you about is the gay beach of Rome. Its called Cappo Catto and has one of the more notorious cruising spots in the city. The beach is marked by the only big rainbow flags I saw in the city and has a small boardwalk that leads you to the sand. Once on the beach, past the bar that pumps gay deep house, your mouth will start salivating with all the delicious meat browning in small underthings and sun.


















I could spend time telling you about the mainland or I could get to the good stuff which was when I decided I had enough tanning and needed to head back into the sand dunes where all the cruising goes down. There are signs all along wooden barrier that says not to go into the dunes, maybe its a safe sex campaign, and just like most safe sex campaigns it has trouble keeping people from crossing the line.
(c) Homochic 2008

DAY 13 - June 12th

As yesterday was a bit free form, today was very calculated.

• #1 Get minutes on my phone (this was a bitch to do and wasted about an hour)

• #3 Get something other then pizza to eat (not so successful, spinach and bread thing)

• #4 Get to MAS (which stands for really big cheap department store)

• #5 Do something my parent would like: Fassi the oldest gelato shop in Roma

• #6 Do something my dick would like: Europa Multiclub Romas largest Gay Sauna

• #7 Have a real Italian dinner!

MAS

MAS was described to me as a huge thrift store. In that regard it is. In other regards, imagine if Target + Ross + Sears had a bastard italian child that only got table scraps... that is MAS. A fat baby indeed with 4 floors complete with weird crap catacomb basement and the only floor non disabled accessible friendly being the mens suits floor (cripples always ruin a good look anyway right?). I love the cut of European jeans. I was over in the womens section checking out some pants and one of the attendants said something in Italian which meant "these are for girls." I said in what she I'm sure head as gibberish that I knew. The cut of womens jeans here are almost identical to mens jeans, they are all trannies! I then went to a different floor and was looking at some shorts and a attendant and total queen asked me if I needed help and to point out the shorts I was looking at were only for large patrons. Okay, strike two but seriously I don't need a translator to help to see when shorts are like a 40 waist OKAY! Finally, and this is when I new I just needed to stick to the speedo bin where NO ONE wanted to talk to me while I plunged into those piles, an older attendant came up to me to tell me the Levi's western button up shirt I was looking at was for women ("madonna"). Yeah, okay dude, I know you are pissed that there is a fag in the slutty dyke section of MAS but back off okay!

FASSI
Didn't blow my mind. All I was thinking when I was eating a $6 ice cream cone (which was freaking delicious) was WHY am I eating dairy before I go get naked in front of hot Italian horndogs? I bounced for the sauna.

EUROPE MULTICLUB
So when I emailed Giacomo of Discodromo what should I do when "in Rome" he naturally he responded with two cruising spots. The first suggestion was a bar that I asked WARBEAR about (who will now be called phrannypack cause his name is Francesco, her club is PHagoff, and I have been wearing a fanny-pack the whole trip). He told me that it was just like the eagle in a way and that it has recently been shut down (he didn't give me any other details - sketchy!). The n I asked him about local bathhouses or saunas. He told me that there is a whole history to the nightclubs and bathhouses in Rome that is quite interesting. Just like San Francisco sex clubs, there is a membership and privatization of clientèle of the club in order to bypass government laws against indecency and public sex. Phrannypack has some interesting ideas around how the privatization of sexual practice in places like sex clubs effects the whole culture of sexuality and freedom. I definitely understand where he is coming from and it did cost and arm and a leg to get inside the club which in turn creates a very specific customer base and brings up issues of class. Regardless, as I described earlier, Rome has approached gay life in a similar way to American government. Indecency laws, police homophobia, and fascist rule, sounds like someone needs to get their dick sucked.

Phranny also told me that the sauna that Giacomo recommended was more of the muscle queen work out and that I should check out another one across town that was more on the bear tip. This sauna he speaks of is the Sunday play-party space for when local bear-promotions-circuit subWOOFer does its techno-hairy-weekends here in Roma. I decided that the prospects of being in what is lauded as the biggest sauna in Roma was better then wet-bear action and I decided to head to Europe Multiclub instead.

A bit of a walk from familiar grounds, Europe Multiclub is actually located in a very very nice part of central Roma. The surroundings of Multiclub blows blowbuddies and steamworks out of the water. Whether you are coming from work or finishing up at the Harley Davidson bike shop next door, the walk of shame for this bathhouse is straight BEVERLY HILLS! Upon entrance I was greeted by the god awful new Madonna record which is everywhere in this goddamn city right now and the queen behind the desk who looked responsible for it being on the stereo. In order to get into the sauna, I had to bring my passport, sign up for a year, and pay entrance fee but whats hellamericandollars? There were small security boxes (guarded by the Madonna queen?) in the lobby for valuables and then lockers downstairs for clothes and things. I put on my towel and my provided black rubber slippers and headed downstairs. The first room to be greeted by is a TV room with a full cafe with sandwiches and beers and even a videogame station. Next room consists of a weird disco light hallway and then a cruising lounge area and full gym room (can we get to the sex please!). Finally the entrance to the sauna which consists of two shower stalls beautifully constructed with full marble fences 3 showers to a stall. I wash off and head into the main sauna area which has 3 pools one which is a large regular temperature pool complete with a private waterfall closet area (for bare-backing and such) and an arched covered canal from one side of the pool to the other. I started with a hot tub first small enough to only fit me and my nervous ego. Roman men ride this weird line between hot and fugly for me. Everyone looks butch as fuck but they also look like extras from a roman episode of Star Trek. There is not really a consistent look except for thick noses, the olive skin and uncut dicks. Those that stood out: my pasty ass self, the star of 300 the movie black dude with a baby-arm penis and thick Mr. T Mowhawk, the old guys (not as many and you would expect), and of course the guy that keeps pushing into your personal space. Outside of the pools there are about 3 steam rooms, private fuck rooms, a nice bathroom area, and another shower area.

After about a 1/2 hour of cruising I noticed a nice 30 something cub that came from out of the shower area. I followed one into the cooler pool area where most of the action goes down. A large circular area with sunken benches all around, this area would soon become a scene. After a couple of glances the cutie I was checking out muttered something to me in Italian, I responded with my American gibberish, to my surprise he responded in English! He wanted to know the time (LAME!) but we ended up chatting and touching and chatting and touching more and then moving into the beautiful waterfall closet area I mentioned earlier. After some deep tissue massage, and some other things I cannot say on here because Leo Herrera and Ambrosia Salad are already gagging trans-continentally we made movements to the steam room scene, the myst room scene (this room came with a +1) and then finally back to our meeting place. Here is where we were greeted by the 18 going on 16 year old couple going at it with two dicks that could feed entire 3rd world countries. I kept looking around for Chi Chi La Rue with a camera but then I remembered its hard for her to fit on planes these days. As me and the new boy and the +1 got the okay to jump in the light flickered in the sauna and your typical gizz moper came outta nowhere and ordered everyone to leave. Oh well, they probably had crabs.

To my surprise the boy (whose name I cannot remember for the life of me) was waiting for me outside the club. We walked and chatted a bit and I was a bit apprehensive of taking the steam out of the relationship so to speak. To my suprise we got on quite well and he said we were going in the same direction so we walked that way until he offered to take me out for the #7 on my list. A scenic route through the Colosseum neighborhood, past the gayborhood, and around the corner to a cute mostly sidewalk-table-dining italian food restaurant. Like a gentlemen he ordered some classic dishes and offered english conversation. Of course I find the one Jew lover in Italy, we talked about his fascination with Judaism for a bit and then about traveling and then stuffed our faces with delicacies I am sure I cannot pronounce properly.

question of the day:
I'm not sure which I like better, people who can understand what I am saying and think I talk too much or people who cannot understand a word I am saying and think I talk to much?

tommorow:
Go to one of Roma's oldest punk-collective squats and set up for a multi-thousand person rave called Electrode... here is the poster I finished last night... Whole entry on Phagoff and the costume tommorow...

(c) Homochic 2008