Saturday Night

Let me set the scene. A beautiful crowd standing around drinking wine and discussing art. A fabulous photography exhibit is being shown. A buffet of shrimp puffs and brie. Miles Davis and his quintet blarring in the background.....SOHO..no.....WEHO.....no...but Santo Domingo!

I was invited to theCinema Cafe located in the Muesum of Modern Art Saturday night to see the debut of Eliasar Garcia's show, Transville. Transville is a collection of photographs of transvestites. They are raw, beautiful, vigiorus and painful. The pictures gave you a sense of the emotion and struggle for acceptance they feel. The main subjest of the show was the boyfriend of the artist. He gave an Oscar winning performance as the photographs came to life. He gave a stirring monologue on the birth of a transvestite.

The show runs until March, if you are in town it is a must see. On another note, I was very impressed with the Cinema Cafe. The cafe has live jazz performers on the weekend and as I am told has a real "hip" crowd. The theater shows international films for free during the week, jsut check the newspaper for details.

Santo Domingo has a real underground art scene that is growing and gaining more acceptance. Over the past year, I have met more writers, scupters, singers and alike. They are very talented and motivated individuals. Please look to this blog as I chronicle and promote thier growth.

Sheep

SHEEPISH
by
Paul Rudnick
The New Yorker


Charles Roselli set out to discover what makes some
sheep gay. Then the news media and the blogosphere got hold of the story.—The Times.

I’m Troy, a gay sheep, and I’ll tell you the truth. Although I’m conflicted about calling myself a gay sheep, because I don’t like to think that my sexuality defines me;let’s just say that I’m a sheep who happens to be gay. Being gay is just a simple biological fact, like having a fleecy undercoat orbleating while you’re being shorn, or getting aroused whenever you see a bulky turtleneck sweater.

When I was growing up, I assumed that I’d be just like everybody else, and that someday I’d be bred with a ewe and slaughtered. But, of course, those other feelings were always there;even when I was only a few years old I would gaze at another male lamb and think about sharing a stall, with just enough hay and maybe a nice mid- century trough. I tried not to focus on my urges, and whenever my mom caught me rubbing up against the fence post that I called Skipper I’d pretend I had lice. But as the years went by I started to act on my desires, first with Ed, who was a ram, if you know what I mean. Later, I became involved with Rick, a sheep my own age, although after our encounters Rick would always claim that hewas drunk on compost, and he’d butt me with his head and insist,“Dude, let’s go get us some mutton.”Finally, my dad found me with Rick, and he flew into a blind rage, yelling that he had no son, and that if I was luckyI’d end up as a cheap Peruvian cardigan worn by a truck-stop hooker inAlaska.

And so I ran away, and I went wild. I experimented with everyone and everything. Bulls. Mules. Duck, duck, goose. I found out exactly why they’re called the Three Little Pigs. Call me Old McDonald, because I had the farm. I even made some adult films, and mayb eyou’ve heard of them: “Wet Wool,” “Lassie, Come Here,” and the mega-selling “Hoof and Mouth.” Then, one morning, I woke up next to a horse, a hen, and an ear of corn—that’s right, all the food groups. And I was disgusted with myself. What was I, livestock?And so I re-joined my flock, up on Brokeback. I didn’t expect to be accepted; I just needed some time to graze and grow. I had some terrific long talks with a wise old mountain goat, who told me, “Look, you can be anything you want to be—gay, straight, pashmina, whatever.” And I found my faith again, when I realized that, hey, there were sheep on the ark. There were sheep in the manger. And at the Last Supper there was stew.

At long last, I found the strength to come out to my family, my friends, and even my co-workers, to say right outloud, I’m Troy and I’m gay, but I hope that isn’t the most interesting thing about me. I’m just like you: I like to stand around in the rain and get caught in barbed wire and defecate while I’m asleep. And the amazing thing was—it was no big deal. Everyone nuzzled me, and my mom said that deep down she’d always known, and that she’d hoped that I’d grow up to be an artist or a performer or a cashmere crewneck. Of course, Little Bo Peep, my shepherdess, got a little teary at first. “Are you sure?” she wondered. “I mean, you’re so masculine.”And I informed her that being gay doesn’t mean you have to act like a hummingbird or a Chihuahua. And then she asked, very confidentially,“Is it true about Elsie the cow? And Ellen?” And I just rolled my eyes and said, “Darling.”

Right about then is when I met Doug. I saw him across the pasture, and I just knew. I assumed there’d be talk—he’s a black sheep. And, I’ll confess, I used the oldest line in the barn. I sidled right up to him and I said, “Baa baa, black sheep, have you anywool?” And he looked me right in the eye and murmured, “Yes, sir,yes, sir, three bags full.” And I replied, “I can see that.” We’ve been together ever since, and we don’t care what anyone thinks. Because, baby, at the end of the day we’re all just animals.

Busy Bee

Sorry I have been away for a few weeks. Work has been crazy so I have not had a chance to write during the week and on the weekends, Richard and I have been traveling or entertaining. We went to Las Terrenas for a few days and it was fantastic.

This little slice of heaven is located on the north coast. The views were spectacular, the beach magnificent and the nightlife incredible. Our traveling companions for the trip were Jousie and Jahida, two Dominican divas that have become really close to Richard and I. We partied like rock stars one night. The town was filled with Europeans on vacation, they can really party. What surprised me were the clubs. I was expecting the "typical" beach town nightlife. What I got was a smaller version of South Beach. The bars were literally on the water, big white canopys and fire twirlers on the beach!! The crowds were beautiful and friendly. We stayed on the beach in a hotel that was 700 pesos a night, it wasn't the W, but it did the trick. We arrive at night so I did not get to see the sweeping views going up the mountain, but on the drive down I got to see the sprawling landscape. Seeing the mountains rise out of the water was jaw dropping.

The next weekend we were going to have a Super Bowl party, but know one cared about the game so we were just going to have a party on Sunday. We went shopping Saturday afternoon to buy food and drinks for the party. That evening friends started dropping by to hang out at the house. The next thing you know we had a full fledged party happening. Richard was busy making is famous Garlic-Butter Chicken and I was mixing cocktails and serving drinks. A good time was had by all. (Sorry we ate all the chicken Anthony). I woke up at 4PM Sunday afternoon.

Last weekend we popped in on the Grand Opening of Chachita Rubio's new club, CHA. My expectations were very high because I know how fabulous she is. Let me tell you, not only did she meet my expectations, she exceeded them. CHA had a grand slam on night one. The large space located on the Malecon is the perfect setting for an evening out. The large windows that give you a view in and outside the club set the tone for this night spot. The club reminds me of Twist in South Beach. CHA and her girls did an hour show that ranged from Latin hits to a sizzling rendition of Jailhouse Tango from the musical Chicago. The go-go boys were stunning and could dance their asses off. The only mishap of the night was the air conditioning. It was so hot, I thought I was going to sweat out my perm while drinking my martini. We went back on Sunday afternoon for some drinks and dancing and the crowd was building around 6:00. The air was on and the temperature was perfect. Cheers CHA, may you have a long life.

Our family is expanding. Richard's dog is now living with us. Sissy Martini, yes her name is Sissy--stop the laughing! She is a brown and white cocker spaniel and she is sweet as apple pie. She is getting along with her step sister Eve Harrington. They play all day together and sleep together too---Oh my God, I have two lesbian dogs.