Feeling a little cocky and being in a particularly jovial mood, I thought it was time to be a comment whore and flash a little skin.
September 2007
DiRocco’s.
It was August 1989. Having moved to the greater Boston area the year before and still trying to find my path in life, to complicate matters I had just been dumped by my boyfriend. Looking back, he pretty much was a freak as he wasn’t big on having friends, forbad me from having friends and found me to be entirely too “flamey” to be seen in public with. Yeah, he was a keeper, let me tell you. Small wonder my mother hated him. (She’s always been a good judge of character). Anyway, I was newly single and all by myself in a large metropolitan area, somewhat lacking self-esteem and without anyone to lean on. Looking back I guess it wasn’t all that bleak, I had a great job at the then second largest computer company in the world (DEC), my superiors praised my work and I had snuck some friends that I had met through various gay organizations at work into my life (the luncheon and social clubs were festively called BGLAD and DECplus), but I always felt like the smalltown boy from Upstate New York that was trying to make it in the big city. And I didn’t even have a beret to throw up in the air.
Never one for huge crowds, or perhaps lacking the confidence to tackle one of the bars in Boston, I decided to follow the lead of some of my gay friends at work and check out a bar situated between Lowell, Mass. and Nashua, N.H. along Route 3A in Tyngsboro. It was intriguingly called “DiRocco’s Tall Pines Inn”.
To celebrate this adventure and perhaps signify the opening of a new chapter in my life, I had gone to a local old-fashioned barbershop that day and had my hair cut super short. After having rather longish hair (party in the back, business in the front, oy), the short, not-quite-flattop was a definite change of pace in my style (which was subsequently praised by my co-workers the following Monday.) I felt like a new me and it felt good. So I made the 30 minute drive and found this place in the middle of the woods. I’ll never forget the queasiness as I approached the tell-tale signs of the club. I passed by several times before actually driving into the driveway. Back and forth across the Mass.-N.H. line I went, looking for the courage to drive in. I had been to gay bars during my one year of college back in ’86, always with a group of friends, but hadn’t been since because freak boy didn’t like those either. I remember saying to myself, as I closed the door on my smashingly gray 1986 Hyundai Excel, “o.k. John, let’s grow some balls and do it.” And in I went.
I remember being knocked almost breathless as the bass of the music engulfed my senses. There was a neon sign that announced which area was the “Meat Rack”. I remember seeing the lights and the fog and all the sweaty guys dancing on the raised dance floor to “Touch Me” by the 49ers, a fabulous Italian-house track that I love to this day. The bartenders may have been pouring the booze, but the DJ controlled the heartbeat of the party and it was at that moment that I cemented a longing passion I had for spinning in a club – it was something that I *had* to do.
It was that first night at DiRocco’s that I discovered another dance track, “Teardrops” by Womack and Womack. The beat reminded me of Evelyn “Champagne” King’s “Shame”. It had a wicked cool, yet smooth vibe to the tune. The crowd nearly floated to the song as they danced. I reveled in the simplicity of the song. And it was a track that I immediately added to my music crates.
Here’s the video version for your enjoyment. There’s an extra percussion track in this version that somewhat detracts from the simplicity that I enjoy of the piece. Perhaps I’ll spin the original track in the next DJ SuperCub mix.
Transitions.
The unofficial end of summer is now a memory. The youngsters head back to school tomorrow. Mother Nature is readying her paintbrush to give us a vivid display of reds, oranges and golds. You know what that means.
Football season is upon us.
I have become quite accustomed to being a football husbear. For the past 11 years social calendars have been modified, satellite dishes have been installed and TiVos have purred as every minute of every Philadelphia Eagles game is documented, analyzed and mulled over.
I even ask Earl if he wants a glass of “wooder” to go with his snacks to keep the whole Philadelphia spirit alive. He’s so proud of his hometown team.
The transition to football season is particularly interesting this year, because Earl has been giving poker the same amount of interest for god knows how long. We sat down for a little evening snack just a few moments ago when he flicked on the television set. The channel of choice was GSN, the hip name of the Game Show Network.
“Oh, are we going to watch ‘To Tell The Truth’?”, I ask excitedly.
He mumbles something that shouldn’t really sound like “would the real idiot in the room please stand up” and lo and behold there’s the beginnings of a poker game.
“Where’s Peggy Cass?”, I inquire as … “Wait a minute, what is Welcome Back Kotter doing on the screen? I thought he was a distant memory.”
There he is Gabe Kaplan, sans bushy mustache but with a retro-chic Miami Vice thing going on, whining about the poker proceedings.
I can’t follow poker. I’m not good at cards. While others at the table are doing their best poker face, I fall victim to things such as yelling “Oh goody!” when I get an Ace. Or maybe it was a four. I don’t remember. What I do remember is a Royal Flush, which was demonstrated to me in seventh grade when the mean boys in gym tried to flush Peter Vida’s head down the toilet. That was called the Royal Flush.
So Welcome Back Kotter is talking with another unshaven man about a woman named Harman and her strategy for poker. Earl goes into his poker trance, studying every nuance and stragedy exhibited on our set in technicolor, his lips silently moving as he makes mental notes. There’s no yelling of “Yeah!” or “Go!” like during an Eagles game. I find this unnerving. He just sits there, studying. Me? I don’t get the attraction and I decide to blog instead.
At least football has hot looking uniforms.
Don’t Stop Movin’
For anyone interested in gettin’ their groove on, there’s a new DJ SuperCub mix up. Entitled “A Little Old, A Little New”, this is a typical early night set. I did a little experimenting with my music selection.
The Great New York State Fair.
Earl and I made our annual pilgramage to “The Great New York State Fair”. Today is the last day of the festivities.
I’ve been going to the fair for as long as I can remember. What was a fun family activity for me as a child has turned into a fun family activity for me as an adult. As kids, Mom and Dad would load us into the car, stop at my grandparents to pick up my cousin Jean and then take us to the fair to enjoy all the exhibits, the food and maybe a few rides. Mom and Dad were quick to teach us that the rides weren’t the most important thing at the fair because there were plenty of other things to see and do, what with all the livestock shows, the Center of Progress building, the Horticulture building and whatnot.
This year Earl and I didn’t even go on the midway. I don’t think we were into it as much as we have been in the past or something because we both found ourselves irritated by the huge number of Wal*mart-esque people carts motoring around the grounds. Now this is going to sound particularly nasty on my part, but I couldn’t help by almost sneer at the woman who could have easily used TWO of those carts to move around eating a fried blooming onion*. When her pudgy grandchild (judging by age) went to grab a ‘petal’ from the blooming onion, she reminded him that she had fries and pulled away! To keep things interesting there were also several of the latest model baby-buggies without children being pushed around in a weapon-like manner.
Nevertheless, we walked through the barns so that I could chat with the animals and ask how the Fair was this year. Those that stayed until the last day seemed relatively happy, however, because it was the last day of the Fair many had already left and the farmers that live with their animals in the barn for the 10 days of the fair had packed up. I like seeing the woofsters in their living arrangements.
Earl and I also took a peek at the table decorating display and subsequent awards. I’ve always found this to be interesting. To think there are actually clubs out there that compete as to who can build the most impressive table setting based around a theme. This year’s theme was The Orient. I found many of the entries to be quite impressive but the judges didn’t agree: “The sizes of the mums contradict the size of the serving plate.”
And so goes another year at the Fair. In the spirit of tradition, we ran into my cousin Jean and her family which was nice. I’m always a little sad to see the Fair come to an end though, because it means that the end of summer is here.
Per wikipedia: “A single Blooming Onion has been reported as containing 2210 calories and 134 grams of fat.”
Favorite.
This is one my favorite dance tracks of all time. The lyrics always bring a tear to my eye. Enjoy.
