July 28, 2006
Sickness and Sadness
So for the past 2 months I've been completely unhappy and I can't pinpoint the reason why. All I know is is that everytime I come home and everytime I wake up, I experience a profound sadness that I can't seem to shake off. It's hard for me to motivate myself. So after 5 days of post-clubbing sadness, the mini-breakdown happens at my crib. It then manifests itself into a full-blown fever by Thursday, and I can barely move. Benny and Luigi (my dogs) are my caretakers. This basically means they use me as a human pillow, one on top of my head, the other on top of my butt, thus rendering me immobile. But they stay by my side all day and all night. My phone is blowing up with promoters wondering why I'm not at their event, and I can't even text them back.
In my delirium, I have fantasies of hopping on a plane back to the Philippines... just be with my family for a whole month away from everybody. I wish.
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July 28, 2006
Summerdance and Hiphop
Monday afternoon I check out the Summerdance series, which has been moved to a very hot Metro. It was horrible. Massive amounts of sweaty rave kids, heat, bleh. The 3 Degrees cats and Paul Johnson worked it out, and the crowd did love them. But I'm sorry, this is supposed to be an OUTDOOR event celebrating HOUSE (in reference to the last few weeks). Whoever programmed this year's event and DJs needs to be put inside an oven and made to listen to techno. There, you like Summerdance now?
Monday night I promote at both Green Dolphin and Lego's new night at Four. I want to leave because at both places everyone keeps talking my ear off when all I want to do is sit down in peace. As I'm about to leave, Lego guilt trips me by playing my favorite song, so I stay till the very end.
Tuesday I head out to Funk as host for Ron Carroll's night. Ron, his wife and a bunch of his friends are outside the club, because apparently some blonde bitches insisted to one of the owners that they want to hear hiphop. Even though they were told that this was specifically a HOUSE night, the people there felt that it was the bar patrons who have the right to dictate the music. After about an hour of sitting outside, we all head back in and Ron is SALTY. I can't say I blame him. The new manager is an ex-stripper (yes folks, I know you know that I know a lot of strippers...) called Rico. I actually used to date his stripper cousin from New York. He's mad cool and tries to explain Rush Street wack club policy, which basically whores its bar tab over any kind of musical integrity.
Wednesday night after club hopping and promoting, I go home and have a mini-breakdown. I don't want to do this anymore.
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July 26, 2006
The Big House Weekend
Thank you Chicago, this is really the number one city for House! A b-girl friend of mine is in town from New York and she was just blown away by all the stuff going on. Because it was such a whirlwind, I won't even attempt to formulate coherent sentences, because I wasn't coherent most of the time anyway. So let's see...
Saturday
Began with the Silver Room Block Party. By 6pm it was starting to rain so everyone went inside and listened to the DJs. This was a great event, and I've never seen so many beautiful mulatto/mixed women with big Jill Scott hair in my life. At 9pm I booked it over to the MOVE Festival to make the tail end of it. The press table was already closed, so they gave me major grief at the door. I tried explaining to them very nicely and slowly how I was press, (with a stack of 5 Magazines in my hand no less) but the guy was being a lazy jerko. I was about to have a Major Czarina Hissy Fit (this is when you start hearing the beeps on your tv screen warning you of a nearby tornado), when luckily Randy Crumpton (one of the organizers) came to my rescue.
Had a great time, talked to all the DJs, met new ones, took pictures. I then headed to Cuatro to hear Dajae sing at this very live party. Everyone was spilled out on the street and having a good old time.
My girl Kristine who has advertised her Surprise Party business with us (I honestly thought that's what she was selling... surprise parties... turns out she sells Dildos and things. How in the world could I have known that??) gives me one of her catalogues. I don't really care for sex toys, but she'd been telling me about this portable TONGUE (only $39.99!) that has multiple speeds. I told her to save me one and can I connect it to my car seat?
As I'm about to leave, I get a call from a new acquaintance of mine. He's a famous skateboarder currently on crutches and needed a club buddy. Seeing guys on crutches and wheelchairs is the equivalent of me seeing a black lab or any kind of puppy... I melt and say "awwww." I know, soooo politically incorrect but hey. I swoop him up and we go together inside Smart Bar to hear Roy Davis Jr. Roy isn't there, and all you hear is some kind of noise. Painful noise. After some ear numbing drinks, we head to Zentra and then (sigh), an afterhours. They were playing Jungle so loud I thought my cervix tilted slightly. I leave crutch boy with the other geek heads, drop my snoring girl Nicole home, and swear to never do these nights again.
Sunday
Went back to MOVE festival around 5pm. It was absolutely fantastic! The vibe, the people, the music, everything was love. Frankie Knuckles was spinning and the African dancers and stilt walkers were getting down.
Let's see who was there... Steve Silk Hurley, Andre Hatchett, Maurice Joshua, Screaming Rachel, Terry Hunter, Steve Miggedy Maestro, Alan King, Craig Loftis (questioned why Andre and not he was on the cover), Lego, Glenn Underground, who did I miss? Jocelyn Brown sang beautifully. Doug keeps bugging me about all the cute boys he likes, and I tell him to stop pointing them out unless he wanted me to do something about it. All he thinks about is boys, how trivial!
Remix King David Morales was on the mainstage in all his fine-bald-headed-Puerto-Rican-from-New York-with-lots-of-tatooes glory. He smiles and waves at me and I grab Robert Williams and say "INTRODUCE ME TO HIM!!!!!!!" "Okay but he's very arrogant..." Robert warns me. "Work!" I say and pull him to walk faster. We go up onstage and get rudely interrupted by a Big Girl who want him to autograph her t-shirt. Then security tells us we can't be there so Robert tries to distract her while I glare at Big Girl to hurry up and stop sweating David Morales. That's my job. I do my rapid-eye-blinking-sexy-smile-routine in the hopes that he falls in love with me in the 30 seconds that I actually talk to him. Sometimes I have to channel my inner groupie.
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Bad thing: Mother Diva keeps lumbering around the VIP area with that big damn house of hers around her neck. She confronts me Saturday about her usual drama and I remain polite. Then Sunday she says "See those people over there? They're doing a documentary on House music and I just talked tall shit about you and your magazine." I snap and say "You know it's not all about you and your picture in the magazine!" That's all she's been harassing me about for the past year and I'm sick of it. My picture my picture my picture. I walk away before I punch her, which I would really have done had I not been around so many industry people. But then I'll bet you if I did punch her there would have been a round of applause for 5 Magazine.
I leave the festival around 10:30 and get showered and changed. I go to Cuatro again for another party, this time invite-only industry. They're giving away drink tickets and serving extra strong mojitoes. Everyone is wasted beyond belief. I have so many other places to go to but I'm having too much fun. Then Ojay of 67th St. Loft tells me to come over, so me and Dana Powell and his boys head to the southside. Me and Dana start singing along to this Puerto Rican House song and we sound like dogs howling. We're a blinding mess of alcohol.
At 67th there is Ojay, Andre Hatchett, Andre's crazy and hilarious sister, Linda Redd, Ronda Flowers and us. Dana starts spinning awesome music and we party way into the morning. This is the kind of afterhours I like. Good music, good people, and no sketch or shade.
I wake up the next morning and look at my phone in horror. I called and texted a whole bunch of men that I CAN'T STAND. SHIT!!!!!!! OH NO!!!!!!!!! Please, can we put breathalyzers in our phones... to be activated after 1am?????
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July 21, 2006
New York, FLX, Fish
Wednesday night Ojay is celebrating her birthday at The Dating Game. She and her husband Will leave for New York at 6am the next day, so they're partying it up with no sleep. I'm so jealous because they're going to The Shelter club on Saturday, which is the closest thing to a temple I've ever seen. The other day I went ahead a booked my ticket and hotel in New York for late August and I'm counting the days... Chicago is burning me out. By coincidence Doug will also be there at that time so I'll have a Shelter buddy.
Later me and crazy FLX head north to The Note. Before going in I told him I would videotape him peeing, but then started screaming at him when he almost peed on the side of my car. So he urinated on my back right tire instead. Friends.
Thursday night we're all at Zentra. We see this guy with tattoos all over his bald head and even around his eyebrows. My boy Chris thinks he looks like a cirque de soleil freak. He's got a tattoo on the back of his neck which is a bigtime weakness of mine. We start talking and it turns out he owns a Killer Fish Store in Denver. They're here in town for a Fish Convention. "But you were just at one!" I tell them, indicating the club. It turns out that they're really in town to check out actual fishies. Well I'll be darned.
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July 20, 2006
The Art of Kissing
I was trying to figure out how to throw away an old boytoy. He hasn't gotten the no-phone-call-answer hint. The last time I saw him (month ago?), I actually walked out of his apartment while he was in the shower thinking there'd be a Round 2.
So I see him at Four Tuesday night and he asks "Why did you
leave?" ... "Where have you been?" I smile graciously at him and reply "The sex was bad, you don't kiss me and I don't really like you." I then went on to describe what things he did and didn't do that made him
bad. In very specific detail. No more beating around the bush (literally). The fact that this may impede future sexual performances on his part with his unfortunate partners doesn't affect me, because he was so incredibly selfish. He starts apologizing and telling me he'll never do those things again. "Again??" I laugh and walk away like Janet Jackson in one of her mid-80's videos.
I started thinking about certain things....
To win a woman you have to be a good kisser. It is imperative. Please remember that the tongue should be used seductively, softly, sparingly. It is not a weapon. (Unless you're attacking the lower regions, then by all means conquer away.) There are all kinds of kisses, depending on the mood and situation. I love the passionate ones, but save those for make-up sessions, long-time-no-sees and post-coital thank-yous. Otherwise the slow and teasing ones are always a winner. Make us want more. (Don't make us want to wipe our face. Our face is not a meal.) Look us in the eye. Even if the relationship is strictly on a physical level, creating an intimacy will always get you more. And don't we
always want more?
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July 17, 2006
WBGX Radio Show
While cleaning out my drawer I have a Paris-Pamela freak-out moment... where are my videos???? "Where are my videos??!!" I call and scream at my ex-costar, and he gently reminds me that there are only 2 left because I erased the rest to use for dance footage. (Sigh of relief) Must buy more memory-restoring Ginsana.
At 1am I go to the WBGX radio station to meet up with DJ King Staxx, who has a gospel House radio show every Saturday night. He wants me to co-host his soon to be expanded radio program, and he interviews me that night on air. It's live and there are no delay buttons... it's a RELIGIOUS station, so that pretty much narrows my vocabulary down to half. I'm surprised I didn't combust into flames walking into the place, which really was quite lovely by the way. Staxx was awesome, very passionate about the music and culture. While getting ready for the interview I try to think of fairies and dandelions, knowing that if the
word "shit" comes out my mouth it will cost the radio station $5000.
Inhale... exhale.... pretty birds and things... angelic thoughts angelic
thoughts....
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The interview went great, we zipped right through it. Then I hit up Zentra and the F212 afterhours to chill with everyone. My boy Tony (god bless his heart) was candying again, so I babysat his ass while he talked a mile a minute. I tried to do the zen master approach with him, telling him to relax and feel the music (read: shut up), but he couldn't quite get that. So I resigned myself to more conversation when really all I wanted to do was channel a house plant.
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July 16, 2006
Frankie and Barbara
Still nowhere near finishing my articles, I meet up with everyone for Frankie Knuckles' party at House of Blues: Robert Williams, Lugo, Ojay, Willie Wills, and Doug and his crazy friend Judson from New York. He's a super tall skinny white boy with makeup, girls' clothes, and an allover asymmetrical look going (a different earring on each ear, a different shoe on each foot...) I am drawn to this party freak immediately. While running around trying to figure out the weird booth/VIP area, a few people stop me and thank me. It's been like that lately, random strangers thanking me for having the magazine and helping the community. Encounters like that make all the hassle worth it :)
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Frankie was amazing as usual, and the vibe on the dance floor was love. Lady Bunny from New York is a hysterical opening act, and Barbara Tucker and her singers threw an AWESOME show. When I brought her here last December I was so stressed out about my party and my dancers and taking care of her that I couldn't even watch her show. She is a true performer. She kept talking about loving yourself and forgetting men, and Doug and I screamed HALLELUJAH!!!
PS: Good seeing you again, Anthony! I need my dance floor divas to keep
me motivated!
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July 14, 2006
Shut Up and Work!
I am the queen of procrastination. Big time. I have to write all my articles for the August issue including two major interviews with Little Louie Vega and Tortured Soul. So far I've wandered online, wandered the clubs, wandered my house and even attempted to clean my vacuum cleaner. Yes it's gotten that bad. Dance rehearsals and club drops are my only legitimate forms of escaping my computer.
Until the last 3 nights where I've wasted my time being too kind...
I am the official counselor to all the drugged up, drunken, and also sober men who take my listening as their license to talk my FRIGGING EAR OFF!!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!!! Aaargh. (My random menstrual moment.) Steroid stripper, an MC, a DJ and a random partier all feel that I am the chosen one to dump all their problems on. And not only that, that I give a shit! It is a fact that I'm a good listener, and I do ask a lot of questions. Why? Because I actually do care about people and want to know what's going on with them. A lot of people won't give you the time of day, because it's usually all about them. So
my Mother Teresa weakness has been abused, and I've been subjected to listening to them talk talk talk. And then.... talk talk talk talk talk. The other night I actually put down the phone, peed, then came back without missing a beat. In person I've perfected the "I look like I'm listening but I'm actually doing other shit in my head" technique. I've gone over to do lists, worked out choreography and even had a masturbation fantasy all while acting interested in the blah-blaher. Shut up!
"But enough about me... what do YOU think about me?"
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July 10, 2006
Note to All My Male Readers
First of all thank you for reading and enjoying my blog. But I have to get this off my chest. Just so you know this blog tells a third, maybe
only a fourth of what really goes on in my life. Those who are close to
me can attest to that. I put no one's business out there if it can hurt
them. I handle a lot of other day-to-day business that's not
interesting enough to put up here, so I focus on the nightlife. It's
the party persona that you want to read about.
And secondly just because I am open about my sexuality does not make me an easy target for your advances. Those of you who see me out at the
clubs and try to make little sexual innuendoes, grab my ass as a joke or
hold me tight just a little bit too long know who you are. My mind and
body are a temple, and who gets to enter it is still my choice. I
complain about some of the canines I deal with, but that doesn't mean
you get to be the next one I take for a walk. So I may smile at you and
do a gentle reprimand, or maybe even politely ignore the foul thing you
did or said. But trust me, I'm clocking you. I haven't checked you
yet, because I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that maybe you were
testing the waters and seeing if that Dirty Old Man inside of you can
get away with it. Well, he can't. As party girls go I love to do my
thing, but I'm also a Queen. So stop trying to breathe heavy on my neck
and get your paws on me. If you're wondering whether you're one of the
ones I'm talking to, then just think about an interaction you may have
had with me these past few months. Not all men have been like this, but
enough in the scene have that I felt obligated to write this. There are
a few of you out there. Check yourselves please.
Love and respect (because I only give what I want given back.)
Czarina
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July 10, 2006
Tortured Weekend
This Friday I finally got to interview the Brooklyn-based House band
Tortured Soul, who came into town that day. At 5:30 I meet them at the
lobby of the Hard Rock Hotel and sit down with these 3 very charming men
to talk to them about their music. The lead singer Christian is a
little reserved and grumpy, but that makes him even more sexy. Later
that night I go with my friend Chris to see them play at Smart Bar.
Whyteout is spinning, and I park myself inside the DJ booth to get
pictures of the show. They are amazing and super-soulful, these 3
little white boys from Brooklyn.
After the show we head to Zentra to catch the tail end of Andre Hatchett
and Alan King's set. I see Steve Hurley leaving, and make sure Mother
you-know-who is not close behind him ready to attack me.
Later on a few of us go over a friend's house to chill and I immediately regret it. I've been in situations where men start talking about women, and this
was unfortunately one of them. I don't like my fellow queens being
talked about in a derogatory fashion, especially when they're being
judged on a whole set of different principles from men. It really
amazes me how angry and spiteful men can be. Not that women are
blameless, because we all do foul things at one point or another. But
to continually speak of them with such spite and vindictiveness is so
sad to me. I wish I went home early.
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July 7, 2006
Fourth of July Weekend
Where to begin where to begin? I am WIPED OUT, as I'm sure most everybody is. I will try and do as quick a rundown as I can: Friday night I go to the pre-picnic party at Red-I, and the highlight of that was going inside the car with Andre Hatchett and Linda Redd and seeing her cell phone flask. After that me and my ex go to Adam Rivera's rooftop birthday party downtown at a condo 1 block away from my crib. Paul Johnson, Jesse Saunders, Lego and Dajae graced the event along with everyone else in the industry. I then go solo to Zentra to hear Farley and Daryl Pandy sing.
Saturday, the big Chosen Few picnic. My very first one. It was amazing. I had the best time of my life. The new issue with Andre Hatchett and David Risque on the cover came out, so I had to run around in the hot sun with my pink suitcase handing them out. Anyone and everyone was there and the whole event was a big blur of music, dancing, talking, drinking, taking pictures, having pictures taken, more talking, sneaking off in cars and flirting. I didn't get to consciously hear a whole lot of DJs, but I remember Alan King threw down a hot ass set. Aside from me, my flask was getting quite an aerobic workout. I was beat. Later that night we go to the official afterparty at the Konkrete Jungle followed by the 67th St. Lofts. Judge (Frankie Knuckle's right hand man) introduces me to his unofficial "son" from Ohio, and I take him with me to different parties all weekend. He is an absolute gentleman, so different from all the boys I've dealt with these past few months (who only seemed to have my panties on their mind.)
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Sunday night is Frankie Knuckles' party at Sound Bar, and we party there all night followed by a brief stop at a not so good afterhours.
Some sleep, breakfast, then we go to watch Superman...which was the closest thing to torture I've had in a while. My knee/leg is in such bad shape that to sit for any period of time is excruciating, not to mention the sleep deprivation catching up with me. (And I hate Hollywood movies with their zero plots and frequent explosions to wake up Americana from their popcorn-induced inertia.) After that we watch the fireworks downtown and I put a tourist spaghetti glowstick around my neck. We then go to the Dating Game and the Family Den (thugs in the house!), and stop by the Safehouse. The latter was an appalling sauna of rave kids and sweat that we had to run out of there real quick. I guess the holidays bring out anyone and everyone.
Tuesday July 4th I drop my new friend off at Union Station and sleep the sleep of the dead. No barbecuing for me. All in all, a great holiday weekend.
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