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Sex spots South of Market

Sex Clubs (1996)

San Francisco does this very well, although the scene seems to be experiencing one of its periodic downswings. It almost seems as if the “goldem age” of early 1990’s sex clubs has ended, and that the scene is just itching for something new to come along. It’s a shame that right now the SF sex club scene has come to resemble the bathhouse scene in other cities so much. Afew too many muscle-bound attitude queens strutting about with their shirts off. But better times are a-comin’. I can feel it.

Standup sex with strangers is not for everyone, but I highly recommend it if you’re adventurous and comfortable with the concept. There’s also the voyeuristic aspect, if you don’t feel like participating. Etiquette requires that you be assertive but not pushy, and that you respect the desire of others if they do not wish for you to join in the festivities. Basically this means when someone pushes your hand away, don’t keep sticking it back in! Safer sex is encourgaged in all clubs and monitored in most. (I won’t say which ones don’t monitor because you should be safe and shouldn’t care.)

The Power Exchange
(Otis Street between South Van Ness and McCoppin)

I have to admit I still haven’t visited this newest incarnation. The Playground is no more. Closed…history…gone. In its place is the Power Exchange, apparently relocated and re-formatted. The flyers show something resembling a leatherman (so much for the “transgender twist” of the former Power Exchange, I guess.) The tents are gone and the Upper Level is closed, as is the newly installed maze on the first floor. The wide open space makes the place seem even less intimate than before, not a good attribute for a sex club. Crowd is very hit or miss. Of course, most of my info is second hand, as I haven’t felt inspired to visit yet. Look for a more personalized and opinionated review soon…hopefully this weekend.

Blow Buddies
(933 Harrison near Sixth)

Speaking of muscle-bound attitude queens and strutting… Not as big as the above, but still pretty dang spacious, with a smoking patio. Booths, mazes, a “cell”, video lounge, “restrooms”, and an oral sex/gloryhole area with the most convenient architecture I’ve ever seen. There is an occasionally open watersports area. Membership $2, and cover usually in the $7 range. There seems to be an early and a late rush: 2-4AM on weekend nights, earlier (10-12) on Sundays, although Sunday may go late too. Crowd is mostly of the “see how butch I am…really” variety, sort of pseudo-leather, musclebound, and shirtless. Weeknights suffer greatly from the “no one admitted after 2:30” rule. Bring your body. No fucking or rimming.

Mack’s
(317 Tenth near Folsom)

Leather-oriented with occasional handballing (a/k/a fisting) parties. I’ve only been there for some Michael Blue parties a year or so back, so I can’t give much of a review. Layout didn’t do much for me, although there is a cool loft space downstairs. Pretty small, and no “outside”. This just in: two of my ex-es just met there last week and had a very nice little affair. There’s hope…

Dark Alleys (1996)

Remember that street cruising has its risks. I live here. I know the terrain. You should too. Do not attempt this when your consciousness is lacking due to too much drinking or chemical stimulation. It could be more painful than you bargained for.

Ringold Alley (between Folsom and Harrison, Eighth and Ninth)

A San Francisco tradition, this interesting spot acn be experienced on foot or by car; there is even the occasional cab. Tour buses are discouraged. Ringold is by and large a late space, filling up around 2AM when the nearby bars empty out. Prime time runs until 3 or 4 especially on weekend nights, and the cruising is of a dark and severe nature. Tendencies toward leather and an older crowd, but this is not an absolute. Hustlers on occasion. SOMABoy has often made out right there on the alley. Cool, but be careful.

Rogers/Heron/Berwick (across Eighth Street)

A convenient and less public place to retire after the above, especially when trucks are parked there. Had a right nice time here with two boys recently, one of them a lost Castro queen and the other a friend from the ‘hood.

Folsom Street proper (from Fifth to Eleventh)

It’s not an alley but there’s several adjacent ones. Cruise late at night, with clusters around the bookstores near Fifth, again between Seventh and Ninth, and — so I’m told — near Dore Alley. Sometimes works in the daytime too. If you wait long enough after last call, 90% of the suburban heterosexuals are gone. This makes cruising easier and more convenient. Sometimes workable in the daytime too, especially on the eastern fringe, but you gotta have an eye for it.

Outside the ‘hood (1996)…

I can’t really personally recommend places, as I deny the existence of the Castro, and like places within walking distance. However, there is a sex club on Castro north of Ninteenth (the “Black House”) , which is allegedly undergoing a transformation of sorts. In addition, there are Eros (Market near Church, across from Safeway) and 1808 (1808 Market near the underpass). I can give absolutely no details about either place, as they are not in my current repertoire.

There is also a cruising park where little seems to happen behind Cala Foods at Eighteenth and Collingwood .

Buena Vista Park in the Upper Haight is interesting around midnight, they say, and the views are good. There are also rumors of youngsters in the after school hours if that’s your thing, but if you’re over 18, make sure they are too.

The Windmills at Golden Gate Park (older crowd with a tendency toward closets) and Land’s End (younger and prettier and sunbathing nude in the summer) offer sex in a beach setting. Watch those cliffs.

Lafayette Park in the lower Pacific Heights area (Gough at Sacramento) has also been recommended. No personal reference here. Never done it; Pacific Heights (a/k/a “Specific Whites”) gives me the willies.

As to the tearoom scene, should you be so inclined, I can personally recommend Rincon Center and 4 Embarcadero Center in the Financial District, and Keith at Steam Magazine recommends the fourth floor of the library at San Francisco State University.

[Recreated from my earliest surviving site archive.]

Folsom Street: The Miracle Mile

But I thought Wilshire Blvd. in Beverly Hills was the “Miracle Mile”…

Well, dream on. If that’s your cup of tea then you’re probably from L.A. anyway and you should probably be lurking in the Castro. For those of us in the know, it’s all about Folsom Street. It was originally nicknamed “the Miracle Mile” in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s due to the number of gay bars, bathhouses, and convenient alleys in the area from about Fifth Street to about Fourteenth Street.

This area was the center of San Francisco’s leather community then, and lots of people thought the area was downright dangerous. Fortunately, a good number of confirmed Castro types still do.

Planet SOMA has changed a lot since those days. There’s still a large leather presence here, but there is also a collection of nightspots amazing in their diversity. There’s a token heterosexual enclave on Eleventh Street, despite the presence of V/SF, the newest queer club on the block. There’s also a plethora of tecno-rave-tweaker clubs east of Seventh Street including the legendary EndUp (where Michael Tolliver won the jockey shorts contest in “Tales of the City”). Remember that club kids rarely breed out of species (if at all, given the effect of speed on the erectile system) so cruise at your own risk.

Best of all, there’s my own “Miracle Mile” which centers on the intersection of Folsom and Eighth. What can I say…I’m a bar boy, not a klub kid.

From here, you can continue studying bars or visit my cool list of sleazy sex zones.

South of Market Bar Guide (Early 1996)

Hole in the Wall Saloon (Eighth at Folsom)
Still rockin’; do not count on hearing house or techno here (thank God!). As one who was there opening night in 1994, I can honestly say it ain’t the same uncrowded little bar it once was. My love affair with the place is more off and on lately. I keep walking in on weekend nights and saying to myself “It’s happened…this bar has become the Detour” (albeit with better music). But the music is still the best.

Crowd ranges from young trendoid hipster tweakers to older bikers to career alcoholics to the occasional frightened sweater queen cowering in a corner. Unfortunately, the “look at how fabulously trendy I am” types, who really don’t get the concept are getting too prevalent. It’s a sad thing. For two years I’ve raved about this being the best bar in the city, and it still pretty much is. Recommended: weeknights and Sunday afternoon/early evening.

Opens at 6AM on weekends (including, of course, Friday and Monday).

My Place (Folsom near Eighth)
Given the crowd problems noted above, My Place is once again becoming a watering hole of choice. This spot used to be the Ramrod many years back. From what I hear, it’s not much different, despite a couple of fires and a variety of shutdowns based on what tends to go on in the back corners at times.

An absolute sleaze pit; you WILL be accosted at the urinal. Dark, cruisy, usually rotten music, and sometimes smelly. Emphasis here is on cheap sex. I LOVE IT! Sometimes the back “patio” is open. Crowd skews old, but there are usually some youngsters looking for action too. Cheap beer on Sunday nights. Look for a re-creation of the famous Chuck Arnett mural from the Tool Box, as well as an original Boot Camp sign.

Full moon parties allow you to drink cheap when the lunar cycle is right.

The Eagle (Twelfth at Harrison)
Why do leather bars insist on playing retread disco that sucked to begin with? The Eagle is popular on Saturday nights, has a well-known Sunday beer bust, and is (I guess) an institution. I hate and avoid it.

The Stud (Harrison at Ninth)
The Stud keeps trying to re-invent itself. I’m not really up on whether or not it’s succeeded on this last round. It doesn’t look like a steak house inside anymore. They still have that “preppies from the suburbs” beer bust on Wednesday nights. A recent Sunday “retro 80’s” night had a pretty large and decorative (if a little too well-scrubbed) crowd. I hear Thursdays (“White Trash”) are trying to reinvent the queer punk free for all they once were (during “Junk”). They may succeed, but I’m starting not to care. The Stud’s original location was on Folsom St.; the Arena preceded the Stud at Ninth and Folsom.

PowerHouse (Folsom between Ninth and Tenth)
OK, my honest opinion: what a tremendous waste of perhaps the best bar space on Folsom Street. More or less a leather bar, but it doesn’t quite seem to have found its niche yet. Rolling Rock is $2.75 (I’m appalled). Music: bleachhh. On Thursday, this is the spot for SissyBar, which has promise, but is suffering from a slightly schizophrenic music mix and too many pretentious “look at how pierced and trendy I am” types. I’m not a big fan, although I’ve had interesting nights there. The space is has housed many bars in the past, including the No-name, Cow Palace, and the Brig.

The Lone Star (Harrison between Ninth and Tenth)
Emphasis: bears and rock and roll. This was the first bar I entered the first time I visited San Francisco way back in those tumultuous early 1990’s, and I was amazed! Incidentally, this bar was also the site of the conception of Hole in the Wall Saloon mentioned above. Excellent patio. Good place.

The Rawhide (Seventh near Folsom)
Country music. Line dancing. This is what I moved to San Francisco to get away from. Lots of flags and mounted animal heads and stabs at “on your sleeve” patriotism. I met a cool English guy there once; we started talking because we were both bored and scared. We left.

[Recreated from my earliest surviving site archive.]

Rules to cruise by

Queers from all over the world visit San Francisco to experience a place where they can be (if only temporarily) honest and open about their sexuality. I remember being really thrilled the first time I walked through the Castro and saw the parade of fags, holding hands, kissing in public, in short, “flaunting” their sexulaity in ways that heterosexuals do and take for granted every single day.

There’s sort of an art to living in — or visiting — San Francisco to reach one’s maximum queer potential. There’s a place for everyone here; non-conformity is the norm, so you most likely will meet someone who shared your interests in some way, no matter how offbeat.

A few rules to live by:

In San Francisco, as in other major cities, there is a distinction between gay bars and gay clubs. Bars generally do not charge a cover and do not permit dancing. Clubs charge ridiculous covers, and outrageous drink prices, but if you wanna dance, you cope.

There are a few specific gay neighborhoods. South of Market (a/k/a Planet SOMA) may be the most diverse in terms of bar/club crowds. It’s definitely my favorite; I rarely venture anywhere else. The Castro has become more of a commercialized retail strip in recent years, a sort of Gay Dineyland (picture “Main Street USA”) aimed at tourists, but it’s worth a brief visit. Polk Street is definitely interesting if a bit scary on occasion.

Just because people are gay doesn’t mean they’re nice. Sorry, but it’s true. San Francisco is a big city and the gay population has its share of freaks. BE CAREFUL! There is a major substance abuse problem here (specifically that means speed and variants) which make some people downright mean and untrustworthy. Cruising can be dangerous: know your surroundings and remember that bringing a friend along is safer and can lead to interesting group gropes.

Safer sex is your responsibility. Many people here avoid it these days, whether it’s due to a sense of hopelessness or (more likely) the subsatnce abuse problems mentioned above. INSIST ON IT! It is estimated that upto half (or more) of all gay men in San Francisco are HIV-positive. Remember your odds (and don’t add to the poz population).

Drinking and driving is a really STUPID thing to do here, especially given the fact that you’re only about six bucks from anywhere by cab or twenty minutes on foot.

Yuppie career networking is frowned upon in pickup bars. Your job is not your life. Take a break from it when you go out.

In sex clubs and other places, NO MEANS NO. Be aggressive, but do not be pushy or continue pursuing a trick which just ain’t gonna happen.

The service areas in bars are for people buying drinks, not for socializing. Blocking them will get you a hard shove in most South of Market bars.

Bars have to stop serving and kick you out at 2AM; do not give the staff a hard time. The sidewalk in front will be more interesting than staying inside anyway.

[Recreated from my earliest surviving site archive.]

The “Up Your Alley”Street Fair

doresignWithout question, this is the best of San Francisco’s queer-oriented street fairs. Smaller, more intimate, and just generally more of a queer bent, the Dore Alley fair is a pretty well-kept mid-summer secret. Not to say the crowd was not large, mind you. I just find it to be a more fun crowd…fewer gawkers, etc. It’s a very sociable and friendly gathering; I was amazed what a large percentage of the people there I knew (either as friends, sex objects, or both…).

There was actually very little formal entertainment (bands, etc.) but this really didn’t seem to matter. People-watching, cruising, and “hanging out” were pretty entertaining by themselves. And the flocks of crowds at My Place and Hole in the Wall afterward were great; the “geek factor” was minimized as was the proportion of slumming trendoids and tweaker club kids.The patio at My Place made one of its rare appearances and was full of…well…nasty happenings. Your host was pleased to be able to take advantage of a friend’s slave boy near the front bar as well as a very nice boy in a kilt (not the one pictured below).

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Folsom Street Fair

The 13th annual Folsom Fair was…well…crowded. And the crowd was as entertaining and picturesque as usual (“Marjorie…look! Homosexuals!”). Precious little sin was to be found on the street, but the bars afterward had their moments — and their lines. All in all, a pretty interesting afternoon, if not the debauched festival may people have come to expect. The gawkers were well-behaved.The fog held off ’til near the end. I still like the Dore Alley Fair better, though.10 11 12 13 17 18 19 21 22 23 25 28 36 104 105 109 111 112 113 114 115 118 119 122 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 133 135 136 137 138 140 142 143 146 148

The Castro

The Castro drives me nuts! Twenty-five years of building a “gay neighborhood” have resulted in building nothing more than a “gay marketing plan”, helped along by the so-called gay press (The Advocate, Genre, GQ, Men’s Fitness). The neighborhood strikes me as a sort of package tour aimed at one very strictly-defined type of gay (white) male who reads the right magazines, spends the required hours at the right gym, has the right job, and possesses the necessary cash (or plastic) to carry it off.

Recently, people have been horrified that homeless street urchins, skaters, and panhadlers have invaded “the mall”. I’m all for keeping them there; frankly, they add the only color to the neighborhood (aside from the ubiquitous rainbow flags) and they provide a crucial reminder to the shoppers, the residents, and the tourists that Castro Street is in no real way related to the rest of the world.

Read any mainstream gay magazine and you’ll see what I’m saying. There are no blue collar queers, most certainly no under-employed ones, and (God forbid) no homeless ones. If you’re in a band, it’s dance-pop. If you work the midnight shift at a convenience store, don’t know or care where the nearest gym is, or don’t have a tasteful and well-furnished home, you can’t be in the club.

Leatherfags and most dykes are not invited either, unless they’re discreet and know their respective places. Discussion of having had sex with more than three people in the last year, or in any public place, is not permitted. As a matter of fact, any discussion of sex is frowned upon. Pretty ironic, isn’t it, for a group whose only commonality IS sexual orientation?

I realize that I write from some sense of privilege myself. I’m a white boy, on the cusp between the Boomers and the X-ers, earning a thoroughly middle class living (albeit not at a “prestige” job), and I have pretty much everything I want and need. Maybe it’s liberal guilt, but I don’t think I fit into this package either. I know I don’t WANT to. I wouldn’t know how to do anything but cruise in a gym, and I doubt I’d be successful even at that. I’ve never made a purchase at the Body Shop.

Do not for a moment think that I’m on a “gay culture bores me…I want a straight acting and straight appearing lifestyle”. That is most definitely NOT what I want. People who are obsessed with their “normalcy” and “masculinity” bore me no end. Give me the choice between a date with a tight-assed butch football player and a date with a cute boy who may be a bit “effeminate” and I’ll tale the sissy any day. But the currently media-packaged, corporate and retail-driven version of “gay culture” doesn’t hold a lot of interest for me either.

My idea of a “gay community” does not involve a strip full of stores all my straight friends (hell, even my mother) would feel comfortable in. Frankly, even most of my straight friends find the Castro a tad sanitized.

So just what is my point? I don’t know for sure. I think I’m just a little disillusioned that decades of fighting for the right to be ourselves and to love as we see fit has evolved into such a de-sensualized party line of fitting into cute little assimilated pigeonholes, with Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren providing our role models. Maybe, as some suggest, this means our movement is “growing up” and I’m just lagging behind. Could be some truth in this; people my own age are starting to bore me tremendously. But if being grown up means becoming nothing more than a demographic profile, I want no part of it!

Anti-Gay

“Why (is) being gay like being a member of a religious cult, except not so open-minded?”

This note on the inside cover was almost enough in itself to make me buy this book. It’s rare that I run into a book that I want to make everyone read — rarer still that it should be of the “queer theory” variety. And it’s down right unlikely that a book like this should appear to me by accident right when I’m most looking for it. But here it is: “Anti-Gay”, a collection of essays edited by Mark Simpson (Freedom Editions, UK, 1996; ISBN 0-304-33144-9) gave me shivers, and had that rare quality of saying very coherently too many things I’ve been thinking of late. Ten thought-provoking essays for only $16.95.

A basis premise is that so-called “gay culture” in the 1990’s has become a bland mishmash of upper middle class stereotypes perpetuated by the commercial media (The Advocate, Out, Genre, etc.). Queers have been fed so much commercialized “pride” imagery and “gay is good” dogma that we have settled for a homogenized culture of mediocrity. We have, it is suggested, been far too willing to judge music, art, and culture more on the basis of its gay statement or context than by its actual artistic or cultural merits in a larger sense. Hence, we accept the one-sided and limited perspective of the Advocate as good news reporting, claim that the music of the Pet Shop Boys and Erasure is the fullest expression of our culture, and truly believe that films like “Longtime Companion” are great art, simply because they have a “pro-gay” perspective.

Obviously, there’s more (or I wouldn’t be so excited…) The essayists take on many aspects of the dogma that queers have been force-fed in the post-Stonewall era and dare to suggest that all things gay are NOT inherently good. A running theme is that by assuming that as “liberated gay individuals”, we allow ourselves to believe that all evil which befalls our community is due to external forces. We thus become unable to accept any responsibility for our own actions.

And even “community” is a misleading term. What about those a who do not fit the “majority” image of settled middle-class homeowners driven by consumer culture? What about punks, street people, low-paid service workers, closeted individuals living in North Dakota, etc.? Not everyone is willing to be drawn into the “one world culture” of Genre Magazine, with its gym memberships, Macy’s charge cards, drug-driven dance clubs, and freedom rings. In order to make gay people more palatable to the conservative majority, we have marginalized anyone who doen’t “fit” comfortably.

I really liked this book; it makes points which too many queers have been afraid to make in recent years. People will read these essays and be extrememly pissed off. I have my disagreements with certain of the pronouncements, but the whole point is disagreement and the promotion of discourse, as well as the challenging of 90’s “gayspeak”. “Anti-Gay” most definitely succeeds.

Some Excerpts:

Mark Simpson:

As a measure of how successful and how popular gay is, every year the parades get bigger, the floats fluffier, and the male strippers beefier and oilier. In case we don’t notice this, the gay press carefully points this out — along with the cast-iron prediction that this year the parade will be so big, fluffy, and oily that the straights won’t be able to ignore it, like they somehow managed to last year…But perhaps the most encouraging thing about the rising attendance figures is that they bring ever closer the realization of the greatest gay dream of all: to turn the whole world into a gay disco!

…And what better image of freedom and love could there be than the gay disco? With just a teensy-weensy bit of help from mind-altering substances, the gay disco is the place where you can experience the most intense sense of well-being, belonging and happiness, not to mention some really interesting conversations about life, the universe and how difficult it is to get hold of good shit these days and how the tab you took last week turned the whites of your eyes yellow.

In the gay world, everything is reassuringly similar wherever you go. Gays are better at franchising than McDonald’s. Just in case you should feel homesick when traveling abroad or just around town, gay bars and clubs around the globe are plying the same music and the patrons are wearing the same jeans, haircuts, and even facial expressions…And wherever you go you can pick up a gay publication which is full of pictures of other people just like you and exiting information on just how many people there are just like you out there and how you can meet them. Once you’re out you need never be troubled by pesky old difference again.

John Weir:

The entire gay male community seems at times to be colluding against the possibility of independent thinking. The gay rights movement, too often, is focused on theatrics rather than discourse: we want to be entertained and flattered, not criticized. As a group, self-identified gay men are especially resistant to thinking about issues of class and race, and they steadfastly deny their sexism. The irony of gay liberation is that it has made room in the mainstream only for those white men who are already privileged, and disinclined to share their wealth.

Effectively, there is currently no more identifiable type than the self-identified, politically active, sexually predatory gay American man, the kind of gut who wants, not equality for everyone, but entitlement for himself. And big pecs. If gay men ruled the world, there would be tax credits for joining a gym. this was abundantly clear to me at the New York Stonewall 25 celebration…It was a week-long festival of pod people twirling their multi-colored freedom rings. there were so many hairless young men in nipple-hugging white T-shirts wandering the streets, that I began to wish it was 1969 again and the paddy wagons would come and take them all away.

Peter Tatchell:

Moderate accommodationist gay rights politics is, ironically, solely concerned with winning rights for homosexuals. It offers nothing to heterosexual people. Whereas strident, anti-assimilationist queer activists seek the extension of sexual freedom in ways that ultimately benefit everyone. The radical queer activists who are so often derided as separatists are, on the contrary, the proponents of a form of sexual liberation that is, in the end, more in tune with the common interests of gays, straights, and bisexuals than any purely gay rights agenda could ever be.

Lisa Power:

To put it plainly, I am sick of lesbian and gay people, especially those involved in political or social activism, who act as a photographic negative of the heterosexual society from which they have escaped and who do not adhere to the rigid sexual boundaries and rules they, in turn, prescribe. I am sick of seeing honesty punished and repression rewarded. I am sick of seeing people who feel forced to censor themselves or to live in two separate worlds. I am sick of seeing people who really don’t like themselves because they have swallowed the lie that their personal complexities and idiosyncrasies make them Not A Real Lesbian/Gay Man, or at least a second-class one.

Paul Burston:

Traditionally, two assumptions have shaped the way in which films are reviewed by the popular gay press. The first — that films made by gay people for gay people are somehow above criticism — is, thankfully, going out of fashion. Years of sitting through the most appalling rubbish, and feeling obliged to applaud the filmmakers efforts have clearly taken their toll…

The second — that films made for a mass audience are automatically suspect when it comes to representations of lesbians and gay men — still holds true for a significant number of gay film critics…(T)he bulk of what we refer to as ‘gay film criticism’ still starts from the premise that what matters most is not what the film in question contributes to the art of cinema or what pleasures it might hold for a queer-literate audience, but the degree to which it explicitly serves the gay political cause…not ‘does the character have an important or entertaining part to play in the shaping of the plot?’ but “is this character setting a good example?’.

Toby Manning:

Another given of gay culture is righteousness. Self-righteousness is perhaps an inevitable by-product of liberation movements, but gay righteousness is particularly offensive in its ability to be simultaneously apologetic and self-aggrandizing. Apologetic because it doesn’t challenge the structures of society, it simply says ‘straights are being horrid to us’…Self-aggrandizing because the mantra of oppression drowns out all else in its repetition, including an indignation out of proportion to the issue…

(T)heir constant, unquestioning invocation makes for dull, lazy speeches at Gay Pride festivals (of the “I am a one-legged lesbian from Lithuania’ variety); unanalytical, unobjective news reporting (…the respect given AIDS closet cases Freddie Mercury and Rock Hudson); sentimental songs that operate a kind of community thought-bypass (like those of Holly Near or Michael Callen at the Gay Games); and bland films (“Philadelphia”, “Parting Glances”, “Longtime Companion” all busily pushing the AIDS button). But these emotional response buttons are carefully chosen to keep the issues as mainstream as possible. Little righteous anger is heard on behalf of transsexuals or SM dykes. Anything that doesn’t fit the righteous reformist agenda is kept out of sight, ignored by the gay press and by gay political organizations — after all, if it’s not wholesome and easily understood, heterosexuals (read ‘powerful conservative figures’) might be scared off.

The collapse of Queer Nation is often taken as an example of the failure of queer/transgression as a whole, though the organization in fact had no connection to the queerzine ethos, simply appropriating the tern ‘queer’ for what was essentially just a more militant take on the usual gay reformist agenda. The extent of the organization’s separation from real queer culture is illustrated by their sending a death threat to Denis Cooper, a hero to queer zinesters. But it was this movement that came to represent queer in the popular imagination, the result being, as Bruce LaBruce has pointed out, that ‘the Queer nation sensibility and aesthetic merged with what (zinesters) were doing and watered it down.’ Unlike the queer zinesters wholesale rejection of society, the new militancy was easily assimilable into gay culture…

Meanwhile, many of the visible signifiers of queer (nipple rings, tattoos, and punk styles) were taken on by gays as fashion accessories, and thus stripped of their original meaning. Hardly surprising that ‘queer’ has come to suggest a pierced-nippled, brain-dead, club-crazy bimbo wiggling his hips to house music.

The Gay Press: What I’m Not Reading This Week

The Advocate has been redesigned. Color me unimpressed. This magazine, which has been totally irrelevant to me since about 1983, now comes in a glossier, more graphically pleasing format. More in tune with the upscale professional lifestyle we urban gay men lead. The “heterosexual of the month” covers will have more shelf appeal. The marketing people have won. Note this announcement about news content from a recent editorial:

The Advocate has always been the leading source of in-depth analysis and original investigative reporting–the kind of forward-thinking news organization our discriminating readers demand. And now, beginning with this issue, in order to add new vibrancy to the way we do this, we’re pleased to debut a striking redesign…

The arts and media section has been expanded and integrated into the news section. Since gay arts and media stories can be significant political and social events, the new design does not draw conventional lines between news and entertainment. The most visible example of this philosophy is that The Buzz — where we report the inside scoop on the spiciest gay entertainment news — has been moved to the front of the magazine.

Isn’t that fabulous? At the Advocate, they know what’s really important. When we get tired of reading hard news, we can simply skip to the Madonna item on the next paragraph. Wow!! She’s REAL news. So is the White Party. And the latest dish on Ellen…

Not, of course, that this trend has been limited to the Advocate. Checked out your local news lately? Or better still, “Hard Copy”? OK…maybe O.J. Simpson really was the single most important news story of the past two years, but somehow I doubt it.

Lest I sound like I’m against the idea of a gay entertainment publication, I’m not. I more or less write one. What bugs me is that the Advocate has the audacity to call itself a NEWS magazine for the gay “community”, when essentially it has metamorphosized into a queer version of People or Entertainment Weekly, targeted at a very specific audience.

Which is all fine and dandy; that’s what today’s media marketing frenzy is all about. That’s the reason that instead of “rock” stations, “pop” stations, “country” stations, and “R&B” stations, we now have “alternative adult contemporary hits” stations (which translates to mellow “new wave” for those in their late 20’s and early 30’s) and “classic hits of the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s with no be-bop or hard rock” stations. To question this would be to question all of advertising and demographic research.

But I digress. I was talking about news.

When I was a young fag, reading the Advocate was so much better than reading the local gay rags. The Advocate was real news, while the local papers were full of drag show reviews, bar openings, and tons of wire copy. The few local news stories were so biased and boosterish that they wouldn’t have passed muster in my junior high journalism class. A lot of the local gay press still is victim to this phenomenon — especially the “if it’s gay it has to be good no matter how bad it is” mentality.

The Advocate stood up for the “community” too. But it was different. It took more than 15 minutes to read a full issue. It said something.

No more, I guess.

Avoiding the Bars

OK…here’s how this rant started at 3PM:

Good weekend. The weather’s nice, I got laid, the roommate got laid, the boys are semi-naked and the tearooms are hopping in Central park (oops…wrong city), a friend in Georgia is emailing me some decent grits, the Tories lost control of Parliament, I saw a good movie with friends, and “Married With Children” finally ends tonight after an interminably long run on Fox. What more could I ask?

OK…things might be better if said roommate would get off the phone so I could go eat, but this is a minor thing…

By the time I got home from “happy hour” Sunday evening, this is how my mood had changed:

If San Francisco is such a fucking fabulous queer “mecca”, and is the “greatest place in the world to be gay”, why is it that so many of us feel such a need to perpetually anesthetize ourselves in order to enjoy it? Or would that be “to tolerate it”?

Kinda makes you wonder why I bother going out, doesn’t it? I think last night just presented me with one “drunken idiot” too many (with two of them being idiotic drunken ex-“boyfriends”, for lack of a better term). A few too many glassy eyes. Way too much reefer aroma. I’m even learning to ignore the tweakers. Again I ask, if it’s so wonderful, why does everyone have to get trashed and act like such complete slugs to deal with it?

And it’s not just the bars I’m talking about. Sometimes it seems like half the city is damn near catatonic for the bulk of the day. Everyone’s stoned here. Does this not suggest some slight problems with the reality of the city, causing people to try and esacpe it?

All this — combined with my current homophobic state of mind — has convinced me it’s time to take a little break from the neighborhood watering holes. And maybe from San Francisco. And DEFINITELY from the little ordered and segregated and self-destructive world of SF queerdom.

To clarify, I’m not speaking from an “I don’t drink” soapbox. In fact, the scariest thing about the whole evening was how much I actually DID drink as a reaction. OK, maybe even scarier was the desire I felt to throw and/or break things. This sensation, alas, subsided before I could drag myself to the Castro, where it might have been more productive.

Lest this start sounding like an “origins of punk”piece from 1976 or a Queer nation pamphlet from 1990 or an AA brochure, I’ll move on now…

As for Friday night’s sexcapades, all I’ll say is that when this boy (who looked a little too much like a club kid for comfort on first glance) put in the AC/DC CD first thing, I knew everything was gonna be OK.

And as to the Sunday night fiasco, don’t look for me to be drinking on Folsom Street for a while. Time to find a new hobby.

The Ideal Personal Ad

An ideal personal ad I’d respond to (Spring 1997):

Cynical queer loner, 32, recently committed to polygamy and recreational sex, seeks individual to challenge my resolve. Thoroughly bored with bars and sex clubs, but be forewarned: I’m not convinced a monogamous relationship is the right move for me now. Interests: road trips, lowbrow culture, text-based communication, obscure pop music, The Simpsons, and more. Zero tolerance for drug drama, pretentiousness, career or gym addiction, or attitude. Understand that I will eat meat and smoke cigarettes in your presence, and that I will not be willing to spend every waking minute of my life with you. Do not expect adventures on the great outdoors or candlelit dinners. Do expect drive-in movies, noisy bands, and Pinky and the Brain on Saturday morning. Sexual creativity a plus. Ability to be happy eating at Denny’s and Burger King essential. If you’re “straight acting and appearing”, you need to go have an affair with a woman and leave me the fuck alone.

An ideal personal ad I’d respond to (Summer 1996):

Queer-acting, queer-appearing omnivorous male into sleazy bars, pop culture, road trips, and “The Simpsons”. Hate long walks in the park and the “great outdoors” means an alley off Folsom Street. Meet me for dinner at Denny’s. We’ll have sex first and then see if friendship develops. I’m sometimes moody but generally cheerful, feel love intensely when I feel it at all, and have no patience with one-sided relationships. No gym clones, granolas, fashion victims, or people who act their ages. If you need drugs to have a good time, please do so with someone else. Must understand the irony of MTV planning a new channel which actually plays music videos. Understanding irony in general is also nonnegotiable.

An actual personal ad I placed online (Fall 1995):

MY STATS: Sodomite WM 30 (look 29 1/2), 6’2″, 195#, brown hair/eyes, stubbly goatee and head, lousy housekeeper, employed and in no major financial difficulty (for a change)

LIKES: Fog, Dragnet reruns, sleazy bars, Target, the occasional sex club, fast food, almost any boy on a skateboard, Camel Lights, roadside culture, Henry Weinhardts Red, okra, offbeat music (KABL to KALX), Converse hightops, funny porn, long-haired boys, grits, stubble-headed boys, driving aimlessly, cartoons, group sex, old movies, and white trash.

DISLIKES: Nature, Republicans, severe potheads, the Castro, sushi, people who act their age, romantic candlelight dinners, country music recorded after 1965, the Dead (as in Grateful), rabid Vegans, overabundant sunshine, upwardly mobile persons employed in finance, most art galleries, little rat dogs, and white trash wannabes.

WILL NOT TOLERATE: “Straight acting/appearing”, speed freaks, Southern Baptists, and closets.

LOOKING FOR: Well…I’m not sure. Someone maybe to have adventures with, to explore San Francisco’s hidden alcohol subculture with, or even just sleep with on a regular, sporadic, or one-time basis. (You maybe figured out by now that a one-on-one monogamous thing is not exactly what I’m looking for, but it’s not entirely out of the question, I guess.) I would prefer that you be in the 22-32 age range, open to experimentation, and not full of yourself, but I’m willing to negotiate. If you’re intrigued, interested, or curious, e-mail me. If I’ve pissed you off with my dislikes and lack of tolerance and sensitivity, then DON’T, ‘cuz I don’t care.

An actual personal ad I placed (Fall 1989):

Slightly depraved GWM, 24, cynical, sedate, and relatively harmless, into unnerving music, shocking video, stimulating conversation, sleazy bars,and okra, seeks similar individual with whom to share these interests and perhaps others. Basic intelligence and political awareness a plus. Coke heads, Republicans, and other losers need not apply. Respond creatively.