FOOTNOTES FROM LA

I rarely get a chance to hang out in LA after work, but this time I did, for 3 luxurious days. LA Pride put us up at the somewhat grand Sofitel, and I got to see eccentric sweetheart Jeanie Tracy (Sylvester's former back-up singer who has had a few dance hits in her own right like last year's CHA CHA HEELS) getting in her limo in a chic understated black ensemble, for the airport. Don't get me wrong--there was still a ponytail fall, cleavage for days and cat-eye sunglasses! I meant understated for he. Her looks are totally inspiring and can be checked out on her site jeanietracy.com, where you can also check out her music.

Then lunch with Vaginal Davis, the legendary LA punk/performance artist--not your average drag queen. She's been conducting performance art workshops while in residency at various European universities including Manchester and SLOVENIA! I eagerly pumped her details. I've seen wearing many hats, from the dunce cap she wore that day to fronting punk rock bands like Black fag to channelling a demented evangelist to hosting clubs like her Roaring 20's-themed soiree Bricktops to shrimping whipped cream-covered toes to the tune of Prince's CHERRIES IN THE SNOW at Wigstock a few years back. But I just couldn't imagine this gigantress conducting a seminar. In one of her exercises, she divulged, she work-shoped a performance piece which ended in a live show. The cast entered the stage to applause and had to stand there, beaming, taking in the applause long after the audience had stopped clapping. Some of her students said it was the hardest thing they've ever done on stage. (They should've asked RuPaul for tips--she does this at most of her shows!) I think it's kind of revolutionary and I am glad to know that hip-hop and Lindsay Lohan aren't the US's only cultural exports.

Once my accommodations were on my own dime, I left Sofitel and checked into the significantly cheaper Hollywood Downtowner Hotel at 5601 Hollywood Boulevard. Clean, cheap rooms ($59) rooms, free internet, good coffee and 10 blocks from the divine Frederick's of Hollywood, a haven for sasquatch glamourpusses around the world. The hotel is run by a delightful East Indian couple. Indians must be the most decent people on earth, an adorable mix of sweet and proper, and my hostess clucked and chortled happily at any request. The neighborhood's a little dicey, but if you don't mind "colorful" exchanges with local characters like the young black guy in coke-bottle eyeglasses who cycled past me advertising "10 inch black mandingo dick, $100 an hour." (Isn't there a little redundancy in 10 inch, black dick and mandingo? And why isn't mandingo approved be spell-check? It's a conspiracy!) But as I had just dropped a C-note on two pairs of stunning holographic glitter pumps at Frederick's--a drag is like a crow: she sees something that glitters and has to have it--I passed. Since everyone drives in LA, the only people on the streets are either poor, hustlers, drug addicts or from New York--or, like me, all of the above!

LA has really grown on me. Though I love that NYC grit and edginess, a little mindless relaxation in La-La land is so soothing. Nothing wrong with gorgeous weather and exquisite flora and fauna. I visited with Ebony Jett (aka Eboneezer) and she had an orange, lemon and avocado tree in her yard. Hell, I don't even have a yard! There's always that space issue in NYC, but when it comes down to it, I'm happy with a tiny apartment in the world's most exciting city and I wouldn't trade it for a house in LA. Some former New York friends had a fairly large 3 story house where I stayed during a previous visit, and their free-standing garage out back was larger than my whole apartment. But we tried to go out three nights in a row and there was nothing to do. Except for the Spotlight bar, of course. That deranged tranny/hustler/freak emporium where I once saw a wheelchair-bound drag in a Tina Turner 80's wig begging with a sauce-pan in her lap AND met Sulka, the feline tranny porn star of yesteryear. (Sulka must be one of Amanda LePore's early influences.)

A few interesting things in LA:

Amidst more cosmetic surgery ads of any publication I've ever seen, LA Weekly also has an article on The Crystal Mess epidemic which you can find here: http://laweekly.com/ink/05/29/features-valenzuela.php It gives a fresh take from the perspective of someone who explains it's appeal, as opposed to just demonizing it's users.

Black protesters greeted the opening of King Tut's exhibit with protest chants of "Tutankhamen back and he still black.". Angered by the Tut's recent facial reconstruction which depicts him as white/olive-skinned, the protesters claim that Egypt was a black nation at that time and that Tut was described in historical accounts as dark-skinned. I had never thought of it, but his lips are full and it wouldn't be the first time history was re-written to favor one race over another. An arab-looking Egyptian expert angrily denied their claims. One things for sure, maybe it was the eye make-up and Cher-like headdress, but that king looks like a queen to me, honey!

Never too up on popular culture, I just now got a chance to hear the sublimely ridiculous EVERYBODY HAS AIDS from last year's South Park movie for the first time. I also caught a disgusting glimpse of CHAOTIC. Britney, Kevin's video love-letter was the dumbest, most repetitive thing I've ever seen. I hope he has a big dick cuz he is soooooooooooooooooooo ignorant! Maybe Britney needs somebody like around like that to make her look less brain-dead. And yet she still make McDonna (as Vaginal calls her) look like an creative genius by comparison.

Also recently caught KEPT, Jerry Hall's new show. What would make this type of show appealing to Jerry? She's obviously too old to model, and she's starred in a stage version or two of The Graduate, but Mrs. Jagger certainly can't need the coins. I guess it's that she craves the limelight she once had and reality TV is the name of the game right now. But the show is awful. And it's such a double-standard that a country seemingly driven by the religious right has no problem tuning in to a show where respectable young men compete to be prostitutes. And they aren't even that cute!

I met with Ebony and she's a fountain of info and trivia. I was not aware that all of the furor over missing children and runaway brides, missing girls in Aruba, etc., are an attempt to push for ID chip's insertion, at least into children at first. The end goal would be mandatory chip insertion into everyone, the chips functioning as tracking devices, IDs, and credit cards. I was not aware of the push for these chips or the fear tactics of the constant Amber Alerts. I guess you would never lose your ID if it were inside your arm, but it is kind of scary and Big Brother-ish.

Ebony also pointed out that the specter of Osama the boogieman is straight out of Orwell's 1984. He is the supposed reason we're fighting in Iraq, though clearly there's no tie between the two. And occasionally taped messages or other news of Osama are leaked to keep suspicion and fear levels high, which make us inclined to trust in whichever government is in power for our safety's sake. That way we're less likely to question doublespeak programs whose names mean the opposite of what they say, like Leave No Child Behind=Leave Every Child Behind and Operation Iraqi Freedom=Occupy Iraq Indefinitely.

And of course the Michael Jackson verdict was announced. I didn't follow the case that closely, so I don't know how weak or strong the evidence was. I do find it very odd that the jury said they went into deliberation leaning toward guilty, but the mother's character issues and finger-snapping ultimately changed their verdict to not guilty. It almost seemed that the mom's finger-snapping made the jury feel insignificant and they bristled. I hope their hurt pride at a little finger-snapping isn't loosing a child molester. I mean what's more important?

Several of the jurors said that they felt that Michael had molested some children along the way, but perhaps in this case there was not enough evidence to convict. But what angers me is this emphasis on the mom. Whoopi Goldberg seemed to blame the mom on The View, saying that you simply did not leave your kids in a position of danger. That's true, Whoopi. But the mom is not on trial! And even if it is foolish to leave your kids alone with a guy who has been accused of multiple molestations, it's not illegal to be foolish. It's unwise to provide the set-up for the molestation by leaving in a limo for a bikini wax payed for by Jackson while he's alone with the kids, but if he molested them in her absence, he's to blame, not her. I realize that she seems like a shady grifter, but Michael also has a pattern of attracting boys from damaged homes with gold-digging parents, possibly so he can more easily work a smear tactic if accused. At any rate, I'm glad it's over and I hope we have a reasonable break before the civil case cranks up.

In the meantime, I hear Michael's going on tour....with the Vienna Boy's Choir!

I met with the former East Village scenesters the Poptarts, aka Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey of World of Wonder production house. They managed RuPaul and Kristine W before moving on to producing documentaries like THE EYES OF TAMMY FAYE and the movie PARTY MONSTER. They've optioned the book written by the detective in the first Michael Jackson molestation case for a film, and it should be outrageous. The book was only published in Chile and a friend passed along the shocking, by-then-dog-eared book around to me after it was snatched off the market. The book contains drawing by Jordy, the boy who Michael settled with for millions, of Michael's penis, as well as accounts of Michael being rushed to the doctor when he experienced severe burning sensations on his nasty nelly nuts when he tried to bleach the skin down there. Hee hee! This sounds like it's gonna be a hoot.