bush & blair

flying viking kittens

just in one dreary london monday morning, i’ve managed to stumble across two frightfully amusing versions of the electric 6 hit, gay bar. the tune is not nearly as good as danger, high voltage!, but these videos give those glowing codpieces a run for their money. fer real.

this is the last time that i’ll say my name
i’ve made mistakes but i am not ashamed

it was with excitement and sadness that i went to the bis concert last night. i’d like to think that the scottish eurodisco/electropop group is one of my favorites, although i’d never managed to see them play live before. famous for such things as being the first unsigned act on top of the pops, the powerpuff girls theme, and really just having a fun sound that sounds fresh, unique and current in 2003. last night was their final [london] gig, and i dragged darian to pogo along with me. you can enjoy a few bis tunes here or on evijhserf radio. although i know most of their catalog, i only recognized about half the tunes last night, as steve, manda and john took a stroll down their 6-year-long career.

[cue gentle, subtle orchestral segway]
i shall miss them, but their music will live on forever. it was quite excellent to catch up with darian, and with little convincing we trekked to .ghetto for some sweaty saturday night fun. my boys were there [atif and john, .gregiño and james] as were several of my stalking victims. i spent my first hour at .ghetto scoping out the joint and trying to find someone suitable for procreation recreation. i found this one lanky white boy, who looked a bit innocent and very straight-laced… athletic perhaps. i applied flirtation technique #161 [smiling whilst looking away, with occasional oops-the-dancefloor-is-too-crowded-let- me-just-move-in-over-here brushes and tickles]. my technique was working completely to plan, and he was on the verge of professing his undying love to me, when that bastard friend of mine, darian stole him from me. the poor boy nearly started crying as darian dragged him home. although i was steaming mad, and although darian had done this before, perhaps it wasn’t a question of right and wrong but more just a question of timing. yeah. i love my darian, but maybe next time i’ll claim a piece of the dancefloor far removed from his mojo.

also there was amer, the spikey red mohawk pakistani boy from popstarz a month ago, and also the film festival. we chatted for a bit, flirting and trying to figure out what the hell is going on between us. he fancies me, i fancy him. he has/had a boyfriend, which has been on again, off again, and i tend to meet him in the gaps when they’re off. we had pretty much hooked up when i turn to my mate atif and make a finger-in-mouth gagging gesture, which i used to imply that amer was taking the piss and playing hard-to-get, but what amer interpreted to mean i thought he was disgusting. a bit too too too much drama for one evening, so we swapped numbers and i tiptoed home whilst nobody was looking.

this type of modern life, is it for me?

48 hours of non-stop debauchery:

saturday scooped up mark and andrew in soho for some bank holiday debauchery, before meeting up with atif at retro bar to hit heaven paul’s birthday party at .heaven. got there just as the party was bumping, giving birfday smooches to the birfday boy and other innocent victims. after enjoying free birfday cocktails, rejoined the commoners, crossing paths upstairs with hiphop marcos, alex and even superman from the previous night at .popstarz.

saw two of the boys from the salon, and thoroughly enjoyed feigning ignorance as they tried to bedazzle me in the cloakroom queue. whilst queueing, one turns [knowingly] to me, saying oh, hello! [which really meant oh, hello cute boy, aren't you impressed to meet me?]. my blank look, american accent and disinterested demeanor certainly put them in their places.

the private party, the music and entire crowd at .heaven were perfect for a bank holiday saturday, but at 4am it was time to leave. ran into model joel, whom i had been avoiding for a few weeks, and scooped him up to go to beyond with the boys. beyond was absolutely perfect, with the perfect mix of lasers, lads, chemicals and jubilation. andrew and mark left me around 9am, while i fluttered around, eventually leaving beyond around noon for 18-on-a-scale-of-1-to-10 loving with joel. nothing’s more satisfying that watching a boy’s eyes roll back into his head and lose their ability to speak :twisted:

rather than sleeping sunday afternoon, i only had time for a quick shower before going to a delightful easter dinner at manny’s with mark. we enjoyed a very chilled, very classy evening, with cocktails, homemade cuisine and gossip with the movers and shakers of gay london. after being awake for 24 hours, the wine and grub started to make eric a bit sleepy, but that was quickly remedied with a brisk commute to universe for a redux of new years eve.

ran into wisconsin chris just outside the universe, which made me tingle from tip-to-tail. why did we stop chatting? what ever happened between us? why did i let him slip away. i’m a dumb dumb boy.

stepping into universe around midnight, mark and i felt as if we had never left after new years, that is, the megaclub had been going non-stop for the past four months. for the six hours we were there, not much is remembered except [1] mark and i know approximatley 600,000 gay men in london, [2] the floors of the club are made of mashed potatoes and all slanted, and [3] there were zero shiny disco balls. at one point, my mind fell into a recursive stack overflow… i was aware that i was aware that i was confused that i was aware that i wasn’t moving but that i was dancing and that i wasn’t making sense but that i was aware of everything. i blame the lasers.

i dunno what i would do [or how i would've survived this weekend] without a companion like my marky. even in the depths of chemical paranoia, we still managed to communicate telepathically. as per my fetish from friday and saturday, i found myself still/again lusting after/onto several skinny skinhead lads [the politically-incorrect auschwitz look], and there were plenty at universe, ripe for the pickin’.

at 5am we trekked over to orange/a:m which was pretty much idential to beyond 24 hours prior, except twice as many peeps, twice as hot, and generally more mayhem, crowding and queueing for the drug-ingesting cubicles toilets. .gregiño was amusingly there, which was great but disconcerting, as he represents youth and innocence and r’n'b funk, whereas that place represents clichéd circuit-boy hedonism and the dark side of clubland.

amazingly, when we left orange/a:m this morning, i was perfectly awake, sober and coherent, although i had been awake for nearly 48 hours, about half of which were spent on the dancefloor.

dancing. clubs. boys. socializing. smiles. exercise. sex. music. meditation. joy. and you know i’m satisfied.