DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS AND ATLANTA

I had neglected a proper visit to my good friend Andrew, who has been living in Dallas for the past year and a half, until he uttered two very sacred words that sold me on a visit to the south last week: GAY RODEO.


I actually headed straight from Good Times at Eastern Bloc to the airport, for a 7am flight to Dallas via Memphis, which may explain why I started having sleep-deprived visions of black babies reading me while I waited in line for the toilet.


Andrew is an urban studies Phd and professor so he's really great at touring me around each and every neighborhood, including this one with an amazing old time movie theater that was showing Burlesque for no good reason (does one really need a good reason to screen Burlesque?)


Most of my time in Dallas was either spent at the gay rodeo, napping because I had the flu or ANTIQUING! Who knew Dallas had such a thriving knick knack scene?


Taxidermy is really happening right now in Brooklyn and Dallas but I like to pretend that this deer was probably killed and stuffed not too far from Dallas, whereas most Brooklyn taxidermy probably didn't come from Bushwick or anything.


We didn't stay late enough for these guys to come alive after dark when they do a song and dance throughout the store.


Andrew and a taxidermy snake that would probably be a bit tricky to travel with.


HANDS! Touching hands! Reaching out...


It was actually quite common to see these old time slave posters and memorabilia throughout Dallas. Andrew even found a lawn ornament of a black boy sitting on a watermelon on his previous visit here but someone had bought it before we arrived.


My peeps!


I was super close to buying this but ended up shying away from it, solely because it was priced at $750 and I would have had to pay for art shipping as well. But I'm having second thoughts.


One of many bears on the Dallas bear scene.


Real Dallas barbecue, as opposed to barbecue from Dallas BBQ (which we have in New York City).


Andrew told me I would DIE for the stripper shows at the Tin Room and he was absolutely right.


Roadside chillin'. It was pretty common to see people walking along highways and interstates too, which you rarely see in the northeast.


Letter junkyard outside a shop called Junkadoodle, which really lived up to its name for having more junk than antiques.


En route to the The Gay Rodeo Association's main event in Fort Forth, Texas, I logged on to Grindr to discover this gem, giving Gene Simmons a run for his money.


We arrived at the gay rodeo just in time for the opening ceremonies. Lots of patriotism and gay pride all on display with bright and shiny sequins.


Though this was literally my first time at the rodeo, it was pretty rad to see real gay cowboys. Like, Brokeback Mountain, but real.


Clearly the bull riding event was my favorite event by a long shot, although there was no rodeo clown to tame the bulls after the riders fell off, which made me believe the bulls were a bit more sedate or perhaps even gay themselves (yes, one queen in NYC asked me if the animals were in fact gay.)


Fuck DJing. I'm thinking about changing careers.


The second event was this bull wrestling thing where they had to drag the bull across that white and then wrestle it to the ground. This is when animal cruelty part started to sink in (not pictured: goat dressing, when two teams raced to dress a goat in underwear).


It was tough to snap photos of the surround cowboy viewers (note: Andrew and I seemed to be the ONLY non-Southern, non-cowboy attendees) but as you can see from the dude seated next and the SPURS on his cowboy boots, this event was no joke.


Texans love a big ol' Texax flag. This was the bluegrass side stage next to the main arena.


Not sure if this was drag or cross dressing but whatever it was, there was lots of it and I loved every minute of it.


One of the final events was when two teams had to get a bull across a certain line and then a drag person (mostly men in wigs and dresses) had to jump on the bull and ride it back to the other side of the white line. Easier said then done, I'm sure.


In the refreshments area, lots of men in "cowboy drag" (name given for men who dress up as cowboys despite not being ranchers or cattle herders or anything. Basically its a uniform fetish party and I was living) kiki'd with one another as they do each and every year at the gay rodeo.


We parked near an Epcot Center Spaceship Earth lookalike and trekked back to Dallas for my final night of gay line dances and country music.


My local Manhunt boyfriend in Dallas.


The Dallas skyline is characterized by a light-up spherical ball, a neon green outlined skyscraper and that building to the right that become a complete motion board by night fall.


Bartender at the Roundup Saloon, which is a gay Dallas institution that probably holds something close to 1000 patrons on any given weekend.


Before midnight, The Roundup plays country music and 20 to 30 people line dance on the dance floor while hundreds stand around and watch. Then the DJ throws on something like the Cupid Shuffle (pictured) or The Wobble and EVERYONE swarms the dance floor.


On Sunday, I flew to Atlanta to continue my Southern tour hang with my friend Tony (left), who brought me to a Sunday queer dance party at a bar called Church, complete with radical fairies in dresses like Tony's friend Justin (center).


Church is decorated with hundreds of paintings by an artist named Sister Louisa. Crack Moms for Christ!


Justin actually started off in a boy look and then threw on a sequined dress early on and had his dress rolled all the way down by the end of the evening. Who knew Atlanta was such a hub of radical fairy activity?


Since bars in Atlanta close at 12 on Sunday, we drove to a literal truck stop at an intersection of the Interstate called Southern Comfort. They were hosting a non-ironic karaoke night where this elderly dude stood next to the stage / performers and unfurled random flags that he was apparently selling.


Flag-selling dude sang his own karaoke song, at which point our friend Kyle took it upon himself to go unfurl some of the flags for sale behind flag-selling dude, including a confederate flag (!) and a flag that said Happy New Year!


We found this suggestion box near the exit and thought about suggesting that they retire the sale of confederate flags.


On Monday, we hiked around the base of and then up Stone Mountain, which apparently used to be home to many Ku Klux Klan rallies and is still a confederate-themed park in many senses.


BEHOLD! A carving of three confederate heroes into the side of a mountain!


Some more flags of Georgia, including that one that incorporates the confederate flag. Clearly, I was shocked that this flag is still flown sky high.


An evening view of the downtown Atlanta skyline. Or is it Midtown? Atlanta has skyscraper pockets so it was a bit hard for me to discern one from the other.


One landmark I didn't have a hard time recognizing was the original Krispy Kreme drive-thru.


Tony and his pup Bosco took good care of me while I recovered from the flu, taking me to the Colonnade, The Earl and other fine southern establishments.


And finally back to the airport so I could return to New York for my weekly DJ duties. Thanks Andrew and Tony. Let's do it again when the Texas and Georgia state fairs roll around. xo

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLACK EDDIE

GOOD TIMES: MY BUM IS ON THE SWEDISH

Nearly two years ago, we did a Sweden-themed party at our weekly Wednesday Good Times happening at Eastern Bloc called Swedest Good Times, where we served swedish fish and played lots of tracks by Fever Ray and the Knife. Last Wednesday, we had a reprise of sorts in the form of a real live Swede DJ, Pjotr, who didn't bring any fish with him but plenty o' Scandinavian beats.


Our handsome barback Rob crammed as much Good Times as possible into last week's party, as he'll be out of commission for a little while while he heals from a hernia surgery and we will miss him dearly. Get well soon Rob! No heavy lifting.


Birthday boy Jorge (right) volunteered to snap a few photos during my 10 - 12 DJ set, including this one with Chris (center) and Chris' friend from Minnesota, which is kind of like the Sweden of the U.S. if such a thing exists. (Alaska = Russia.)


Besides hailing from the same hometown as Lindsay Lohan and Amy Fisher, I also know of a few lady friends from Merrick, Long Island who grew up to upright and outstanding citizen such as Lori (right) and Cheryl aka my karaoke buxom buddy.


Gugu is GIVING IT TO ME in those hologram sunglasses. She alleged that she was rehearsing for an Eastern Bloc performance the following evening but we all know Gugu loves the camera and the camera loves Gugu.


There's something mysteriously Russian about this trio of patrons, who just happen to be visiting our soviet-style bar on the eve of Putin's reelection. Coincidence?


I felt an urgent need to introduce Eliot (second from left) to the Swedish guest of honor, Pjotr, since both sport beards much much richer in reds than mine.


Headgear of all shapes and sizes.


Some customers actually got a little aggro that there were no Swedish fish this time around. They must have forgotten that we all got bellyaches and ended up with Swedish fish stuck to our soles which pretty much took two years to finally come out.


TMZ, ON LOCATION.


Happiest of birthdays to Jorge, who has been a bit more reclusive these past six months but apparently is between jobs now and therefore should have lots more time party on Wednesday nights.


Did you know Louis (pictured) used to be a core member in the cult of Lina? Did you know Lina and yours truly just booked our tickets to London (!) and BERLIN (!!!). Methinks Europe is not quite ready for all this jelly.


I was feeling a bit under the weather due to an impending flu and a 6am flight to Dallas for my first visit to the gay rodeo when it visited Fort Worth.


Matt (right) and his man JR, canoodling by the bar.


Give it to me Gugu.


I sort of fell in love with this one on the left for giving me a cross between Big Scot and Def Leppard roadie, and both of those statements are meant as major complitments btw.


Speaking of Def Leppard, Tim (center) was giving major muscle looks in his Hysteria tshirt, as was his handsome boyfriend Mitch (right) and their other muscle buddy to the left.


After Dallas, I traveled to Atlanta, where I visited Piedmont Park and learned that all the sexy, Southern men of color take over the park on Sundays, which locals refer to as Chocolate Sundays. I kid you not.


James (left, aka Bozo numero uno) insisted on grabbing Kevin for this photo just as Santi insisted on photobombing it from the back. Oh, and Kevin's bestie Eddie (aka Black Eddie) will be celebrating his biggest birthday bash EVER at the next Good Times and has requested a guest DJ set from the one and only Nita. (He has also requested that everyone wear yellow.)


W. Jeremy, suited up in sweats from head to toe.


Marc and Rob, holding down the fort while big daddy Darren is out of the country.


Steven (right) has been hugging people ecstatically ever since we revealed that we're flying in our extra special guest DJ, Juanita More, for our March 14th (pie day! 3.14) Good Times Five Year Anniversary party!


Gerardo, no relation to the pop singer Gerardo whose only addiction has to do with the female species cuz he eats them raw like sushi.


They actually posed like this when I asked if I could take a pic and it somehow works.


GOOD TIMES TECHNOLOGY CORNER. Now happening.


If anyone wants to win over me and Jermaine (left), we are both accepting donations of that Nestle's Crunch / Girl Scout cookie collaboration candy bar. In fact, we might devote a whole Good Times to Girls Scout Cookie if we can rally enough support (and like, bus in real Girl Scouts to sell em).


PLANET ZIZMOR FLASHBACK! Alon (right) and Celso used to collaborate all the time on Alon's space disco-themed Planet Zizmor party. We hear that White Noise (formerly the Hose, where I once DJed Zizmor) has just been sold so perhaps its time for Return To Planet Zizmor!


A kind pair of locals who I chatted with but can't remember much of the conversation since my NyQuil kicked in something fierce right around now.


Which new school downtown vogue sensation is slated to do vocals on an upcoming dance track? Hint: he's pictured here.


We like to call this seat "the perch." And we like it when someone out of camera shot lends a helping hand.


His royal red beardiness, Pjotr, who played everything from Murk to classic Strictly Rhythm and beyond, reminding us once again that Swedes always have the best taste in everything.


These two warned me about my trip to Texas but failed to mention the line - spectacle I witnessed at The Roundup or the whole concept of "cowboy drag," as in gay men who dress like cowboys mostly for uniform fetish purposes.


Charley in a fluorescent-less ensemble of blacks and whites and romper stomper boot prints.


When Erik G. (left) quit facebook, we thought he had followed through in selling all his possessions and becoming a global nomad. Turns out he was just hiding in Brooklyn and drinking at the Metro.


Not only a talented DJ but maybe the funniest person on earth. I heart Ryan Smith tshirts, anyone?


I almost was going to go an entire photo set without mentioning this but as you can see from their clothes, it was once again a cold and rainy Wednesday night. Godspeed, summer, cometh to us at once.


Ginger beards are officially the new black beard.


Thanks again to Pjotr and everybody who came out to see that Swede dreams are made of these. See you next week for Black Eddie's birthday Good Times with me and DJ Nita. xo, Sparber