I Hate Myself For Loving You

This is what happens when I get hungry after midnight. I'm so ashamed.

Super Gay and More Than A Village

Gay Village is Rome’s huge gay nightlife party. It’s only in the summer and it’s in a park. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Tents, kiosks, bars, booths and dance floors sprawl as far as the eye can see.





It’s a veritable carnival of gay, gay, gay. It’s refreshing to see so many gay men and lesbians out together. New York’s queer community is quite segregated.

The selection at the snack booth is dizzying.







There’s a spin class. People brought biker shorts and gym bags for it.



The tobacconists are there to poison us and make otherwise attractive people repulsive. Fuck you, Phillip Morris.



There’s even a car show.



I decided to do it all. I was interviewed live on Radio Dee Gay. The lovely Sophia offered to teach me some Italian and asked what I wanted to learn. I said, “Since everyone here is so gorgeous I want to learn how to say ‘you are beautiful!’”

Bellissima!



There’s a booth where you can have your own photo shoot. I was feeling tipsy and sexy so I went for it.





Afterwards everyone spills out onto the streets.



These stands sell drunk food and, of course, more beer. What a country!

Unexpected Plans

Ever have one of those lazy weekend mornings when you think you have no plans for the day, but then it turns out you're giving a class on fellatio?

Ya, that's the day I'm having. It seems that at a dinner party some weeks ago I told a friend's new fiance, who I'd known for all of 15 minutes, that I'd teach her how to give great head as an engagement present to my friend. So now they've come to collect on what seemed like a whimsical, fun idea after a few drinks but is now terrifying under the sober light of day.

Are offers made while drunk even valid once sobriety sets in? Aren't there rules or escape clauses for this kind of thing?

Christ.

Well, guess I'd better go prepare ... I've got a blow job workshop to deliver.

Booze got me into this. Maybe booze will get me out of it ... or at least through it. Where's the tequila?

Look Ma, No Pants

If you're a straight guy at a beach bar and you create a commotion dumping a daiquiri in your lap, I supposed you just sit there being embarrassed with ice-cold, soggy genitals and suffer.

If you're a gay guy at a beach bar and you create a commotion dumping a daiquiri in your lap, just parlay the event into the beginning of a show. Calmly get up, remove your shorts and rinse them in the beach shower. Show off your fabulous underwear in the process. Take a bow. Sit back down.



Congratulations. You've just converted embarrassment into several offers for dates.

I love being gay.

Helpful Advice for the Curious Traveller

Suppose while traveling you decide on a warm afternoon to seek a brief respite from the sun in a friendly neighborhood dispensary of libations. And suppose further that halfway into your drink it occurs to you to wonder whether the establishment perhaps caters to patrons who are occasionally inclined to seek the company of members of their own gender.

Well then, dear reader, here are my travel tips for you.

First, when pretty boys clad only in leather aprons serve daquiries poolside in front of a giant rainbow flag, odds are pretty good you are in a gay bar.

And second, for reasons that elude me, fags smoking cigarettes, reading magazines and sipping martinis do not seem to appreciate cannonballs, no matter how artfully executed.

Booze-a-licious!

This photo's for you Paola.

I'm drinking at a trendy place on the lower East side and discussing art. Everyone here looks sooooooo sexy yet disaffected. I feel like such a hipster.