Issue 23 - noiZe Magazine

From the Editor
This New Year’s, the city of Miami Beach
provided us with yet another example that shows it is
impossible to legislate morality. In a fit of afterhours-phobia,
they almost passed a ban on dancing
between the hours of 5 and 8 a.m. to combat this
menace to society-at-large. The City Council
meeting was punctuated with such notable events as
the chief of police testifying that he’d been to afterhours
and seen people sucking on lollipops - a clear
sign that they were doing drugs! Many turned up in
favor of the clubs, however, and in the end, the city
voted to strictly enforce the rule of closing the
alcohol bars at 5 a.m. and to close the after-hours at
9 a.m. With discussion about the fact that these
clubs were located right in the middle of the tourist
district rather than in the “meat packing district” like
they are in New York, it was clear that the biggest
concern was the visibility of messy party boys on the
streets at noon.
This meant that at promptly 5 a.m. on New
Year’s morning, the Convention Center closed,
spilling at least 5000 boys into the streets. During
our exit, a line of about 20 police cars paraded down
Convention Center Drive, lights flashing and sirens
wailing. Were they saying, “we’re here, and we know
what you’re up to”
To compensate those who had expected a later
night, Jeffrey Sanker threw a second party at Level,
which couldn’t start until 8 a.m. since Level holds a
liquor license. Club cleanup took longer than
expected with an exhausted staff that had just
thrown a huge New Year’s Eve celebration for their
straight clientele - so the doors didn’t open till almost
9 a.m. The lineup outside lasted past 10. The place
rocked till almost 4:00 in the afternoon. So much for
not having messy boys on the streets in broad
daylight.
The most interesting thing to me is that over
and over I heard people remark that this was a totally
new concept (none of them were from New York) -
the idea of going out to a new party at 8 a.m. No
doubt to accomplish this task, most everyone did
even more substances at this hour. Without the
interference of the City Council, the majority of
these guys would have danced themselves out by 7 or
8 or 9 a.m. at the Convention Center, and then gone
home to bed. Yes, a small contingent would have
been sleepless or driven or tweeked and gone on to
after-hours - but these would have been the same
guys who always go to after-hours. Instead, everyone
made it a point to party on into the afternoon. For
many, a whole new level of decadence was created in
honor of the new Millennium. Worse, when people
doing drugs are dumped onto the streets because a
legislated bar closing time has arrived, they don’t
have a chance to return to earth. How many of them
get in cars and drive in a state when they shouldn’t be
driving
On the positive side, the after-hours was a really
delicious, debauched experience that was reminiscent
of the days when the club Go ruled Miami. It was
depraved enough to satiate my party needs, allowing
me to stay home and relax into the first work week
of the Millennium.
-Steve Kammon
Editor in Chief Steve Kammon
Publisher Stephen Ceplenski
Advertising Director Gary Steinberg
818-769-9390
National Advertising Rep Rivendell Marketing
Company, Inc.
212-242-6863
Art Director Klaus Gerhart
Copy Editor Jeff Taylor
Distribution Mike Spicola
Promotions Circuit Boyz Productions
Cover & Nude Photos Klaus Gerhart
Circuit Photos Circuit Boyz Productions
Chris Recek
Bryan Mortenson
Canboy Productions
Sergio Finetto
Kat Coric
Joe Potter
Writers and Contributors John R. Ballew
Dane Hall
Brandon
Michael Lennox
Dennis Fleming
Kerry Hettinger
Curt Freitag
J. Chris
Jeff Brascher
K. Mechar
Matt Kalkhoff
Cristopher Blake
Thomas L. Stoodley
Christopher White
East Coast Office POBox 22656
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33335
954-764-8210 (voice)
954-764-6392 (fax)
West Coast Office 11288 Ventura Blvd #700
Studio City, CA 91604
818-769-9390 (voice)
818-769-5482 (fax)
E-mail info@circuitnoize.com
Website www.circuitnoize.com
www.partyfinder.com
Copyright 2000 Circuit Noize. All rights reserved. Contents may
not be reproduced without permission from the publisher.
Publication of name or photo of any person or organization in
Circuit Noize is not to be construed as any indication of the
sexual orientation of that person or organization.
Published in February, May, August and November
TM
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Table of Contents
Click on any article to view
A Political Party for the New Millennium by Matt Kalkhoff.. 12
A Three-Way on Three-Ways:
Beautiful Strangers by Dane Hall .................................. 18
Re-Intimating by Steve Kammon ............................................ 22
Perils of Freedom by Christopher White ........................ 28
The Ears Have It .................................................................. 32
Renaissance America by Curt Freitag ................................ 38
Is There Hope for Those with CRAP by Cristopher Blake .. 42
Harmony on the Dance Floor by Jeff Brascher .................. 52
Membership in AACP by Dennis Fleming ............................ 54
Fight Clubs & Dance Floors by K. Mechar.......................... 62
Spring Circuit ...................................................................... 72
Just the Music by Thomas L. Stoodley ................................ 94
Circuit Sage by Michael Lennox .......................................... 96
Greetings from the Celebrity Lounge by Kerry Hettinger .. 98
Anal Sex by John R. Ballew ..................................................104
A Private Shadow Dance by Brandon ................................106
Taking a Bullet by J. Chris ..................................................110
Circuit
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A Political Party for the New Millennium
by Matt Kalkhoff
On April 30, 2000, more than 1 million gay men and women
are expected to descend upon our nation’s capital for the
historic Millennium March on Washington (MMOW). This is
the fourth GLBT March on Washington. The first march, in
1979, attracted 100,000 people. The last march, in 1993, was
famous among the party boys because the
number of people that descended on DC
created some of the most awesome parties
ever seen there. In fact, it was this weekend
that planted the seeds among local
promoters, resulting in a Circuit party. This
year, the volunteer committee that hosts the
now-famous Cherry events has scheduled
the Cherry 5 festivities to coincide with the
weekend of the Millennium March.
There is a great deal of controversy
surrounding this particular march. Several
prominent national organizations, such as
NGLTF, pulled out of the organizing early
on. There were disagreements with the
march organizers (HRC and MCC) and the
march committee. A controversy erupted
about the whole concept of even having a
march. Some outspoken members of the
gay community have questioned the
necessity and ultimate effectiveness of this
tactic. Fundraising and logistical planning
suffered.
But now, the tide has turned. There’s
been a big shake-up in the march
leadership. Some groups that opposed the
march have returned to the fold. There is now
widespread concern that a poor showing at the march
will hurt the whole gay rights movement. “A rising tide
lifts all boats,” as they say, but the opposite is also true.
This weekend presents us party boys with the
opportunity to both enjoy ourselves at a weekend of
feisty festivities and to also support our brothers who are
trying to further our rights. For while we have come
very far in the last three decades, we haven’t actually
accomplished any of the goals set at the very first March
on Washington.
The march is designed to be short and sweet - a
two-block street march, followed by an eleven-block
stroll up the Mall. Most of us will miss the parade,
since it starts too early, but we should make a
commitment to attend the rally on the National Mall at
noon on Sunday, April 30. There, your political
activism can make the most difference - since the U.S.
Capitol will make for the best background for photo
ops of the crowd scene. Check out www.mmow.org for
official MMOW information and
www.millenniummarch.com for an unbiased and
comprehensive look at the march.
Now that we’ve got all the vital political issues ‘n
stuff out of the way, let’s talk about the parties.
Proceeds raised during Cherry 5 will benefit The Cherry
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Fund, a non-profit organization that was established to
provide financial support to various gay and lesbian
causes in the Washington, DC area. This year’s
beneficiaries include the new Washington Gay and
Lesbian Center, the Gay and Lesbian Victory
Foundation (the national organization whose sole
mission is to increase the number of openly gay and
lesbian elected officials), DC CARE Consortium (an
AIDS resource and education consortium), and the
Millennium March on Washington.
Several spectacular events are being planned as
part of the Cherry weekend. The parties kick off with
an appearance by DJ Joe D’Espinosa on Friday night.
The highlight of the weekend is likely to be an
enormous dance extravaganza on Saturday at The Old
Post Office Pavilion. This is the space where the
legendary “Spring to Life” party occurred, in excess of
6,000 people, during the 1993 March. This year,
Circuit legend DJ Warren Gluck will be accompanied
by the illusionary effects of lighting wizard Ross Berger.
Details of Sunday night’s party, as well as additional
information on the beneficiaries and parties, will be
posted at www.cherryfund.com.
In a unique and innovative effort to raise even
more money for their beneficiaries, The Cherry Fund
has also assembled more than 40 of your favorite
online stores to form www.ishopforcharity.com. At
this site, you can shop at stores like J. Crew and
Amazon with a percentage of each sale going directly to
the Cherry 5 beneficiaries.
If the Cherry 5 events haven’t worn you out, you
can try an assortment of other dance parties that are
being planned for this momentous weekend. By the
time you read this, many additional events will surely
have been announced and some details may have
changed. Local promoters Dave Parham of Backbeat
Productions and Mark Lee of Atlas Events (202/331-
4422) are joining forces to bring DJ Buc to town on
Sunday night at Club Zei. Lou Piper
(Two2Fab@aol.com) is working on a late-night Friday
event with DJ St. Peter as well as his infamous
Exclamation party on Sunday night with DJ
Mark Vallese. Local bars and clubs will also
be hosting their own events, including the
likely appearance of super-DJs Danny
Tenaglia and Victor Calderone thrown in for
color.
In keeping with the spirit of music as a
powerful force in our fight for equality, you
are all cordially invited to join Melissa
Etheridge, Ellen DeGeneres, Anne Heche,
and Kristen Johnson at “Equality Rocks,” a
mega concert event that is being produced in
conjunction with the Human Rights
Campaign Foundation. “The rock concert
for the new century, celebrating equal rights
for all” will take place at the 45,000-seat
Robert F. Kennedy Stadium on Saturday,
April 29, 2000 at 6:00 p.m. Many other
performers are expected to join the line-up
including Cher, Elton John, Sheryl Crow,
and Garth Brooks. And what would a major
Circuit weekend be without the requisite
Madonna rumor floating around That’s
right kids, the Big M just might grace us
with her presence for a long-overdue concert
appearance, let’s keep our fingers crossed.
Tickets, which range from $35 in the nosebleeds
to $1,000 for front row seats, can be
ordered online at www.ticketmaster.com or
by phone at (800) 551-SEAT.
As you can see, there will be a multitude
of electrifying events to keep you busy
during Millennium March weekend, so
come join us in our nation’s capital at the
end of April and see for yourself why
Washington isn’t just a stuffy city full of
crooked politicians and tired sex scandals.
For at least one weekend, it will also be a
dynamic spot where you can party your ass
off while fighting for your basic civil rights as
American citizens.
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Beautiful Strangers
by Dane Hall
I stand on the sidelines, watching them as I nurse a cool, but
not cold, bottle of water. Why is the water never cold at these
places The music dances through my head in a hypnotic series
of beats. The lights dazzle my starry eyes. There is magic in the
air as the volcanic sea of flesh before me churns and bubbles
with fiery intensity. But despite a multitude
of visual distractions, my focus never
wavers from them: two sexy examples of
unbridled masculinity.
They are lost in their own private
groove; torsos sliding together, arms
encircling, reaching, feeling, fingertips
charged with electricity. Lips flirt
dangerously close, but never touch. Eyes
bore deep, fueled with the adrenaline of
discovery.
They are a sight to behold and I find
myself caught in the spell they are weaving.
Like two wizards sharing a secret chant,
they turn to me at the exact same moment
and a fever-hot whisper of a smile crosses
both their faces.
One of them, the taller of the two,
beckons me over with a slight jerk of his
head. But I have no desire to join them at
this moment. I smile back with a gentle
shake of my head. The glint in my eye cuts
its way through the festival of lights and
reaches its target, meaning intact. I’m
enjoying the visual, something he didn’t
understand until we’d shared this experience.
With a barely-there grin, so slight that only I
will see and comprehend it, my boyfriend
turns back to his newly-met dance partner
and the alchemy begins again.
If you’re one half of a male couple who
enjoys a good night of dancing together,
then you may have experienced the above
scenario in some form or another. If not,
then prepare yourself, because it will
happen regardless of whether you are ready.
These interludes are just one of many
unique challenges facing two boys in love
on the party scene. The dance floor is a
mystical place that can create nearly instantaneous love
affairs. But what if one of those lyrically-infused
“relationships” flares up between your partner and
some beautiful stranger smack dab in the middle of
your festive night out What if, in a resounding vortex
of music, lights and serotonin-boosters, you find
yourself tripping the light fantastic with a handsome,
strapping man who is not your husband How do you
react What do you do What are the rules of this
impromptu dance And when does the “green light”
flash red
My own personal litmus test for “dance floor love
affairs” took years to fully work itself out. There was a
long period when I would dance with no one but my
boyfriend. Nor he, by my rather strident request, with
anyone but me. Of course, that was in the beginning
of our relationship and my insecurity factor topped the
scale. How could it not I was brand-new to the
scene, and nights out with my boyfriend usually found
us surrounded by example after example of sculptor’s
dream muses. And they all wore such big, inviting
smiles!
The first time I found myself slipping into
someone’s dance groove other than my boyfriend’s, I
was acutely uncomfortable. What would my boyfriend
think What would our friends say What did this
super-sexy stranger expect to happen - want to happen
And most importantly, how in the world would I
conduct myself when my body was tingling and his
deliciously musky sweat was close to intoxicating
Although my boyfriend flashed me a winning
smile that assured me, “Good for you,” my heart raced.
It wasn’t the chemicals. Rather, in the space of a
heartbeat, I’d become a kid again. Nervous! But
damn, this stranger’s well-muscled chest felt great
against mine! And he could move! I began to relax,
have fun... a lot of fun.
But the sultry grind ended a long remix later when
my new dance partner reached behind himself and
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moved the hand I’d initially placed so gingerly on his
back and slid it down beneath the waistband of his
silky sweatpants. Slid it way down. Damn! He had
one great ass to match that chest! But, it was a new
boundary for me. I didn’t know the rules. I quickly
withdrew from my beautiful stranger with a shy smile
and a stupidly meek, “Thanks.”
Yeah, I know.
I know!
“What a fool!”
To those accustomed to the unique rules and
environment of the dance floor, my shy response four
years ago at the age of thirty-one may seem silly, if not
downright uncool. But to me, it was the right one.
My boyfriend and I hadn’t yet talked about what
happens when you’re out dancing, feeling the rhythm
and taking part in the tribal celebration of men
dancing together.
Years later, we’ve developed our rules of what’s
“permissible” and what’s not (though I’m sure some of
our friends might beg to differ) on the dance floor.
Many of these boundaries, quite honestly, have come
by trial and error. And yes, often times the errors
really screw up a night! When the music’s pounding,
the lights are strobing and the men are swinging from
each other like simians through the trees, it’s hard not
to get caught up in the energy. It’s easy to get carried
away by a beast.
To get to this point in our relationship, we had to
honestly acknowledge the tremendous physical
satisfaction that comes from finding yourself sharing
an electrical current with a sexy, groovin’ stranger. It’s
OK that this kind of attention feeds the ego. It
doesn’t mean my boyfriend or I love the other any less.
It took a while for us to trust in our oneness, to be
sure the other would never forget that we are one. My
boyfriend will always be my favorite dance partner.
Hands down.
For us, the rule is to respect one another’s feelings
more than our own desires. If, for whatever reason,
one of us starts feeling nervous when a beautiful
stranger enters the mix, it’s up to the one of us “having
the good time” to politely ask Mr. Handsome for a
rain check and we move on. Not a lot of questions
asked.
It’s just a dance, though it is a dance that can
become a gateway to something more.
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Re-intimating
by Steve Kammon
My boyfriend and I were at a point in our relationship where
we’d already negotiated the bounds of our vows when we
discovered the Circuit. At that time, we agreed that it was OK
to sleep with other boys, if we both liked them. And so the
Circuit presented itself as a candy store. At first, the demands
of the Circuit created many new laws of
conduct. These rules covered everything
from how we decided which boys could
be picked up to hand signals that
confirmed interest or annoyance with a
boy we were evaluating. As time went by,
our security in the relationship increased
and the rules were peeled away one by
one. If the Circuit really were a candy
store, we’d both have spent a lot of money
at the dentist, getting cavities filled.
With two of you working the crowd,
you’ve doubled your chances at getting
laid. But an even bigger advantage to
having a boyfriend on the Circuit is the
moral support that a boyfriend provides.
This comes in especially handy when you
touch a boy on the dance floor in an
inviting fashion, and he turns around and
looks at you like you’re seven-day-old
bread with those little green-white mold
spots beginning to pop out in a random
pattern. This is the perfect time to turn
right back into your boyfriend’s arms and
know that you’re loved.
Tag-team relationships are abundant
on the Circuit. Some of the single boys
here have actually developed a knack for
locating couples on the prowl and prefer
hooking up with couples rather than
single guys. They like the double scoops
of attention they get and the complete
lack of commitment when the sex is over.
I suspect some of these couple-chasers
also get off on the potential for drama to
unfold right in front of their eyes. You
know how some queens just live for
drama.
After years of balancing career and
party, having a long-term relationship and being a
party slut, my relationship ended. I discovered that
it was easy to get laid as a single guy on the Circuit,
if that’s what your focus is. I soon found, though,
that sex was not really my highest priority at a party
any longer. Now that my life lacked the intimacy of
a relationship, it was the only thing I wanted. I
found what I was looking for by dancing with my
friends. I found ways to enhance the love energy.
The Circuit became a place to bond with friends.
And when I got horny enough, I’d get up the drive
to hunt.
As I started meeting new guys and entertaining
the possibility of new relationships, those old days of
being part of a free-wheeling couple came back to
haunt me. No, not because people perceived me as
used equipment or damaged goods. On the Circuit,
it’s taken for granted that the boys you meet have
been around the block a few times. For me, this was
a personal issue - an internal struggle. Once you’ve
opened Pandora’s box, how do you close that door to
start anew
Some new couples, made up of jaded partners,
simply dive back into the melee. They quickly
establish new rules of non-monogamy that fit the
new relationship. Part of me wanted to do the same.
I longed for the days of wild debauchery, which
allowed me both intimacy and also fresh, hot boys.
It didn’t take long to realize that playing with new
boys when you’ve got a new boyfriend is an activity
fraught with danger. The problem with this situation
is that it is easy to make assumptions about how a
new boyfriend will react based on the wide-open
rules of an old relationship. When those
assumptions prove very out-of-touch with reality,
confusion and anger are the usual result.
Certainly, one of the keys to negotiating the
transition to non-monogamy for any couple is simply
talking it through with patience and understanding.
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Being honest about your desires for a solid, yet
open, relationship is crucial to establishing trust.
Perseverance is equally important. You can be sure
that some good arguments will be had while
negotiating these difficult waters. Another factor
that makes the monogamy transition difficult is
that, for most of us, during the dating phase, when
there is no commitment, we make it a point of
having the freedom to sleep with others. I believe
that you’re cheating yourself and your relationship,
if you don’t force the lid back down onto your
libido.
Intimacy isn’t established overnight. If you
want to have a connected relationship, yet have it
iced with extra-marital boyz, then you have to focus
first on the primary relationship. An initial phase of
monogamy in a relationship will greatly help in
defining the boundaries. After trust is established,
many things are possible. Many Circuit boys,
myself included, have a tough time learning the art
of delayed gratification. However, it is actually a
way to enhance pleasure, not diminish it.
One of the beautiful things about gay
relationships is the fact that we are already outside of
society’s established norm. This makes us free to
define our relationships as we will. Because there
are no rules, establishing a set that works for both of
you is an important step in the process of opening a
relationship. We shouldn’t feel that these rules are
stagnant, once established. A healthy relationship
will change and grow. It’s interesting to watch a
strict set of rules about playing around be
slowly ground to dust by years of misuse.
During the course of an open relationship,
it may help to go through phases of being
open and phases of monogamy in order to
deepen the intimacy in the primary
relationship.
For those of you who are working on
a second or third or fourth relationship,
you’ll find that you can never recreate the
innocence of your first marriage. But by
making the commitment to be
monogamous for some period of time, you
may find that you can wear white to your
second, third or fourth wedding. Then
again, you can always cheat by planning
the wedding to coincide with Easter
weekend in Palm Springs.
Circuit
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Perils of Freedom
by Christopher White
“I just love gay marriages! They’re so sexually liberating!”
And so began the new year with the words uttered by our first
“trick” of the millennium, candidly describing my relationship
with my boyfriend of five years. Threesomes have become a
common affair (pardon the pun) for my partner and me. What
started as a monogamous relationship, has
become, like many gay partnerships, one of
sexual liberation and adventure. But as
with many adventures, there are certain
perils along the path that one must be
careful to avoid.
Looking back, I realize that the
monogamy in our early days was necessary
in order to build the trust that is essential in
any primary relationship. Until one is
certain of their partner’s love for them and
vice versa, any outside interest can prove to
be a threat. Like any physical structure, a
solid foundation is required, and mixing
foreign ingredients into the cement may
weaken the base on which that relationship
is built.
So we were monogamous. Those early
days were for us to explore one another and
determine whether or not this was to
become a long-term commitment. In time,
our relationship thrived and our certainty
increased. A true partnership had
developed and we knew that we belonged
together. We loved one another and our
love grew stronger with each day.
We have always been very comfortable
pointing out attractive men to one another
- from the first day we met. It has never
been an act that registered jealousy in either
of us but, quite frankly, has been an activity
that we have both enjoyed immensely.
Many of our straight friends, and some of
our gay friends, could not understand how
we could be “together” but still be attracted
to other men. We never thought our
behavior odd. We were comfortable and
secure in our relationship and knew there
was never a need to worry. Our eyes have
always wandered, and they probably always will.
The freedom that many gay relationships enjoy is
not usually found in our heterosexual counterparts so it
is not surprising that our friends were shocked by our
conduct. What we found unusually scandalous,
though, were the number of gay couples we knew who
were involved in committed relationships but who also
enjoyed an occasional ménage à trio. I could not
understand how these couples sustained healthy
relationships while playing around so often. “Look, but
don’t touch,” seemed to be a good motto to live by, but
our friends seemed to be even happier “handling the
merchandise” every once in a while.
We became intrigued by this lifestyle and thought
we might try it out. We started out slowly, agreeing
upon one rule in particular. We would only engage in
threesomes - no separate partnerships. Our relationship
at the time was still fairly new and I didn’t think I was
ready for either of us to be involved in something that
seemed even more dangerous. I wanted to proceed with
caution so as not to jeopardize our relationship.
Our jaunting began to increase in frequency and
soon it was becoming natural for us to take in a third
person. It was an activity that was fun for both of us
and seemed to satiate our desires. Because we were so
comfortable and confident in our love for one another,
this behavior was never a threat to our relationship. In
fact, I thought it strengthened it. There was never any
worry about infidelity since we had so much freedom.
We were quite satisfied with this arrangement.
Many of our friends who knew of our activities
wondered to us if we were ever jealous of the other
partner. “Usually in threesomes, one partner tends to
‘couple up’ with the outside person. Doesn’t that ever
happen with you” We never had this problem. We
acknowledged this peril existed but didn’t think it
would happen in any of our adventures. Neither of us
was looking for a new partner. There was no need for
such insecurities when what we had was so balanced.
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As fate would have it, my partner and I met
someone who would challenge this balance. The three
of us were involved in a project that required us to see
each other every day for a few months. There was an
obvious attraction, but it seemed stronger between our
new acquaintance and myself than between him and
my partner. This new friend and I flirted often but
never really pursued anything since a threesome didn’t
seem to be his interest. The attraction between the two
of us grew stronger and stronger. And it wasn’t just a
physical attraction like our other “tricks”. There was
something else there, something deeper. Our
friendship began to grow, as did our physical
attraction, and soon a relationship began to manifest.
I knew this was outside the rules that my partner
and I had established but, to be honest, I was enjoying
the excitement of it all. Falling in love with someone
new is an incredibly powerful experience. It’s easy to
lose sight of everything else around you when you’re
caught up in this thrill.
I didn’t want to do anything to hurt my boyfriend.
So I didn’t really do anything. For awhile.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. The sexual
tension was overpowering. I wanted him so badly I
couldn’t think clearly or logically. I was willing to risk
everything. So, one night, as my boyfriend slept in the
next room, it happened.
It was better than I had even imagined. It was hot
and burning and erotic and passionate. We quivered
with each other’s touches. We melded into one. It was
perfect. It felt so right.
Immediately after, I was flooded with guilt. I
wondered what I had done. I knew my boyfriend
would ask if anything had happened. And I knew I’d
have to tell him the truth. Our honesty with each
other was one of the things I treasured most about our
relationship.
The next day as if on cue, my boyfriend asked if
anything had happened after he had gone to bed.
There was silence when I told him the answer. If I had
listened more closely, I’m sure I could have heard the
cracks forming in the foundation on which we had
built our “house”. He was hurt and angry and felt
betrayed. And rightly so. I didn’t know what to say
except that I was sorry. And I was. But deep down
inside, I felt something else - hunger for more.
After some painful discussions about what this
meant to our relationship, I reaffirmed my love for
him, vowing that nothing would come between us.
We came to the conclusion that this was just a natural
evolution in our relationship. He had, in the past,
proposed that we play with others separately but I
hadn’t been “ready”. Now I conveniently agreed to his
“suggestion”. We amended our rules.
In the next few months, my boyfriend
met a number of people that he played
around with. I wasn’t with anyone except
for my newfound lover - not even my
boyfriend. It seemed more like I was “with”
my new interest than I was with my
boyfriend. People who would see the two of
us out in public even started to comment on
our behavior - how we were acting more like
boyfriends than me and my partner were.
I still loved my boyfriend but was torn.
I wanted both relationships but wondered
how “acceptable” that would be. I
questioned the acceptability of any of our
recent behavior and justified my conduct by
stating that gay relationships come in all
shapes and sizes and that this was the one
that was going to work for us.
My primary relationship was suffering.
I wasn’t spending as much time with my
boyfriend - and never intimately. We were
starting to drift apart and I didn’t want that
to happen. Although my new lover excited
me in many ways - physically, emotionally,
even spiritually - I didn’t want to destroy
what I had with my boyfriend. It was too
special. I knew that deep down inside me. I
knew that this new relationship was special
in its own right but wasn’t the long-term
commitment that I had with my boyfriend.
Marriages and affairs are two entirely
different beasts.
The project on which we were all
working ended and my “mistress” moved
back to his home. A few months later, it was
over. Distance had diminished the power of
our passion.
I went running back to my boyfriend
but his arms were no longer held open for
me. I had thought that now that my affair
was over, we could return to normal. But
normal didn’t exist anymore. He seemed
much more independent, as well as a degree
more cynical. Things had changed - I had
changed them - and there was no going
back.
We’re still together and we still love each
other. We still go out and have fun and
laugh together. We even still have
threesomes. Sometimes it feels like
everything is back to normal. But
sometimes, I can feel the wedge that I’ve
driven between us - a wedge that’s still there
and may always be.
Circuit
29
Noize

Membership in AACP
by Dennis Fleming
The gay party circuit has seen remarkable growth and
popularity in the past few years. Every year, novice party boys
(and girls) of all ages join the revelry, usually to the delight of
the old guard who have been around for awhile - some since the
days of disco. These elder Circuiteers remember times when
parties were not so frequent and were a far
cry from the abundant, multi-day
extravaganzas that have erupted over
virtually every weekend, holiday and gaycentered
event known to man. You may
have talked to, danced beside or even tricked
with one these party masters; or you may
have overheard a gathering pontificate about
how the Circuit “used to be.” You may not
realize, however, that there exists a
professional organization of these
experienced, senior members of the Circuit.
Similar to the AARP (American Association
of Retired Persons), the AACP (Association
of Aging Circuit Partyers) seeks to unite all
advanced veterans of Circuit partycology
and educate neophytes in the history and
motives behind this phenomenon known as
the gay party circuit. Below are some
indicators of whether you, too, qualify for
membership in this illustrious geriatric crew.
-- You may belong to AACP if: --
• Pictures from past parties show you
dressed in a baseball cap pulled down over
your eyes, short Daisy Duke cutoff shorts
and black Doc Marten boots with thick
white socks rolled over the tops.
• You recall the days when only Susan
Morabito, Buc, Michael Fierman, Robbie
Leslie and Warren Gluck comprised the
small fraternity of DJs from which a party
promoter could choose.
• You remember when the White Party
in Palm Springs was just a couple hundred
guys wanting to get out of L.A. for Easter
Weekend.
• You’ve been overheard talking about the
days when X was really good.
• You were around when Black and Blue
in Montreal could only refer to the aftermath of some
very aggressive sex play with a guy from Canada.
• Mixed party music was rare and could only be
found on cassette, the quality usually very garbled due to
repetitive copying. Continuous mixes on CD were just a
distant dream.
• You maintain that the cover of Gordon Lightfoot’s,
“If You Could Read My Mind” done by Stars on 54, is
an utter butcher job of the original cover recorded by
your self-appointed dance goddess, Viola Wills, many
years before.
• You used to be able to enjoy a whole weekend of
Circuit festivities including all the parties, all the afterhours
and more sex than a New York hustler has on a
busy holiday weekend, yet still show up to work on
Monday like you never left. Now after one day of
partying, your back is sore, your brain resembles
strawberry Jello and your co-workers mistake you for the
recycling bin.
• You remember when Circuit Noize was just the
front and back of a legal-size piece of paper.
• You are acutely aware that 102 Second Ave. in New
York City, home of the Saint, was considered the gay
party Holy Land, resulting in pilgrimages by gay boys
from around the world; an occurrence comparable only
to the Muslims’ journeys to Mecca.
• You can reminisce about the year Madonna showed
up at Miami’s White Party wearing black because she
“…didn’t want to be noticed.”
• You can remember when the letters GHB and
TINA were just acronyms from the Personal Ads section
of the newspaper meaning Gay Hung Boy and Top Into
Nipple and Assplay.
• You attended the L.A. White Party at the Probe
when it was closed down by the fire marshal right about
the time everyone’s X was kicking in, prompting a
panicked flurry of Calvin Klein underwear-clad queens
spilling out onto Highland Avenue. After a desperate
search for a place to go, many ended up with their first
experience at the Meat Rack in Hollywood.
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54
Noize

The Ears Have It
…you never know who’s listening
“Never tweak before you peak, but
always grind before you bump!”
›
“Steve, it looks like some of
Jeffrey’s pubic hair is
still caught between your teeth.”
- Said to the editor
in regards to last issue’s
Sanker article.
›
“I remember this song.
My elderly cousin used to play it
when she rocked me in my cradle.”
- This boy was over the
T-dance oldies.
›
“Girl, put the bumper down
…step away from the bumper.”
- Said to a queen who was
no longer making any sense.
›
“Wow, they emailed me the
weekend air specials and they’re
offering $109 to New York!”
“Damn! That’s less money than
rolling at a club!”
›
“Oh no, I think I lost a bullet”
“OH MY GOD!!!”
“Don’t be so dramatic,
I have another one.”
“You carry more than one bullet”
“When you take your SAT’s
you take more than one pencil,
don’t you”
“Oh man …shoot it in my face
…not in my eyes or anything
…but …you know…”
›
“If you’re the one
supposed to be leading the way
through the dance floor,
why are you pushing me
in front of you”
“You’re my cow catcher.
I’m using you to bump the ugly ones
out of our path.”
›
“My friends are more important to
me than some little piece of meat.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you
specified the meat was little.”
›
“He has everything I’m
looking for in a boyfriend:
Tina, X, and K.”
›
“Gay men measure personality
in inches.”
›
“You’re absolutely
positively negative, right”
›
“Fisting one day, lobbying the next.
It gives a whole new meaning to
the acronym PAC.”
- in reference to the sex party hosts
who email party invites
and political action requests.
Circuit
32
Noize

Renaissance America
by Curt Freitag
It’s a brand new world for queer dance music mavens. A recent
crackdown by the RIAA on DJ compilations has jeopardized the
ability for the average Circuit boy (if any Circuit boy can allow
himself to be labeled as “average”) to get ahold of the works of
his or her favorite Circuit DJs. While our favorite DJs
have to find new ways to pay the rent and
get the latest and greatest music to spin,
we, the listeners, need to find other ways
to satisfy our desire to not merely hear the
music that moves us, but to possess it.
With “Circuit music” under siege,
one option for dancing queens is to point
their ears across the Atlantic. European
dance music has provided many of the
Circuit’s most talented DJ’s (including San
Francisco’s own gems: Neil Lewis and Phil
B) with high-quality fodder to mix in
between Cher and Madonna. The “high
trance” style of progressive house music
that is established in Europe, however, is
just starting to catch on in the mainstream
of America’s CD shoppers. There are only
a handful of continuous DJ mixes available
on the American labels (most notably the
Global Underground series) - most exist
only as imports.
The Renaissance series (named for the
club of international renown that spawned
the series) has previously been available as
import only, even though it has given the
world fine works from the likes of Ian
Ossia, David Morales, bt, and of course
Sasha and John Digweed, since the
early/mid 90’s. Now the latest release in
the series, Renaissance America, comes
directly to the American market, brought
by a DJ with a rock ‘n’ roll spirit: Dave
Seaman.
Each of Seaman’s previous works takes
its listeners on an impressive journey using
a diverse collection of sounds from trance
to disco to rock ‘n’ roll. He has always
found a way to make an eclectic set of
artists and styles fit together while crafting
a work with direction, integrity, and tremendous
creativity. His work on Renaissance Worldwide:
Singapore is one of the most creative works that I’ve
heard from a DJ. Unfortunately, his new release,
Renaissance America falls short of the incredibly high
bar that Seaman set on that and other of his previous
works.
Renaissance America kicks off with bt’s
“Godspeed”, a ubiquitous track that seems to appear
on compilation after compilation to the point where
one can’t help but wonder if a track can become too
popular for its own good (my response: yes!).
However, this particular reworking of the track (the
Hybrid Remix) does offer up a slightly groovier, darker
take on the track. This is a version that would fit
equally well into a basement club or a high-ceiling
space. bt always fills a room, but this version needs to
work a little harder to hit those heights. It’s worth the
effort.
The second track, Brother Brown’s “Under the
Water” really illustrates the difference between the
style of the leading European DJ’s with the DJ’s of the
Queer Party Circuit, and it sets the tone for the
remainder of the CD. This track captures the feeling
of isolation and loneliness of being left behind,
whether by friend, family, or lover. Contrast the lyrics
of “Under the water, under the water/You left me
drowning” with something like “we’re all here
together” from Madagascar’s queer club fav “You’re
Beautiful”. Rather than the uplifting, unifying feeling
that one often gets from a gay dance party, this track
brings us together only in our feelings of isolation.
While the music is wonderful and the sentiment is one
that queers can probably relate to, it does not provide
the escape from our everyday “issues” that many of us
are likely seeking in our trip to the dance floor.
From this point on, Seaman takes us into deep
trance (lyric-free!), with the occasional funky break to
bring us back into the present. This is typical of
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Noize

Seaman’s style, using darker, heavier bass lines to
shake up the atmospheric trance trips that typify his
work. However, a feeling of isolation and
disassociation pervades nearly all of the tracks on this
work, which makes this a CD that might be effective
to chill out with after returning from the clubs, but
not one to listen to while preparing to head out. You
would be better off enjoying this with a friend, using
it for background music for the discussion of life,
light, and love that so often accompanies a lovely
sunrise and a fatigued body.
All in all, Renaissance America is not Seaman’s
best work. Compared to his Renaissance
Worldwide: Singapore CD, it lacks the
variety and rock ‘n’ roll mentality that made
that journey such an adventure. This CD
feels less risky, more homogenized (which
might be appropriate for his first American
release). If you’re interested in finding out
what an internationally-renowned
European DJ can do to get your feet
moving on the dance floor, you might want
to look across the Pacific, and start with
Singapore.
Circuit
39
Noize

Is There Hope for Those with CRAP
by Cristopher Blake
There’s a social problem that seems to be getting out of hand.
I’m speaking, of course, about Complete Raging Asshole
Personality (CRAP). I’ve noticed that more and more guys are
suffering from this syndrome and it’s beginning to alarm me.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I’d be out at a party and
I’d notice that a small percentage of the
men were, for some reason, acting very
lofty and abrasive. They were clearly
exuding the message that we should all
treat them as super-celebrity virgins who
can’t speak to anyone else for fear of
getting herpes, and that, since they are so
beautiful, other people should only
approach them through prayer.
There are also those guys that aren’t
even pretty, but still just can’t be nice to
anyone no matter what. Even if you’ve
never met them before, they still look at
you as if you’ve borrowed their underpants
without asking and are currently wearing
them on your head.
However slight this CRAP may have
been at first, it now seems to be spreading
madly. I’m sure most of you will agree
that it’s becoming rampant. This is due, I
believe, to one of the symptoms of CRAP.
It apparently compels the sufferer to find a
densely-attended social event where they
can stand deluging more attitude than
Princess Stephanie, effectively infecting
anyone within ten feet of them with
CRAP cooties until half the crowd is in
such a bad mood that they could happily
kick a puppy.
That is CRAP. It’s a sad disorder that
is taking rapid hold in our community and
causing significant social unpleasantness.
It seems to be very similar to PMS, only
with notably less bloating.
Usually, it’s relatively easy to deal with
boys that may have these types of
symptoms. I’ve normally dealt with it one
of two ways: 1) hit them with a car; or 2)
pay someone to hit them with a car.
Circuit
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Noize

However, soon after I noticed the common
nature of this syndrome, I also saw some small hope
for its treatment. I realized that, occasionally, some of
the guys I had first pegged as assholes were suddenly
acting very, very nice to me at certain parties or clubs.
Some were trying so hard to convince me they were
nice that they insisted we have sex. I was very
confused by this until someone explained that they
were only being nice because they had taken some
kind of medication. That was good news. At least
they knew they were shamelessly full of themselves,
but had opted to seek pharmaceutical help. After all,
the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a
problem.
At first, I didn’t understand why they didn’t just
take this medication all the time. Especially since
their CRAP is such an enormous issue. Then, I tried
to obtain some through my medical insurance
company. I immediately learned that it wasn’t
covered. Now I was beginning to understand. I
figured this stuff must be very expensive, which is
why the boys suffering from CRAP would want to
use it so sparingly and only in social situations, and
understandably so.
Although I couldn’t get my insurance company
to spring for the stuff, I thought I’d at least get a
prescription, just in case I ever needed it. I told my
doctor I wanted “that stuff that makes all the guys so
happy when they go to clubs.”
He said, “Get out of my office.”
My doctor obviously also has CRAP.
Even with my current understanding of all this,
it still leaves me having to deal with awkward
interactions, especially at the gym, with all the poor
local guys that may be suffering from CRAP but are
unable to regularly afford the alleviating medication.
It’s like they have two separate personalities. There’s
the one that’ll pass me on the flat bench with no
more than a nod to indicate any recognition, and
there’s the other personality that will approach me on
a dance floor and announce they know me by putting
both their hands down my pants.
I much prefer the latter interaction. Therefore, I
would like to propose that community action be
taken to immediately raise awareness for CRAP. By
“awareness,” I, of course, mean to say, “enormous
amounts of money.”
After all, it must be horribly difficult for all these
boys to go through the tedium of their day-to-day
lives, all the while suffering with the inimitable
burden of all that CRAP, forcing them to treat
everyone else as if they were communist lepers.
Not only the health care industry, but
also the U.S. Government needs to be
made aware of the staggering hardships
endured by the urban social community
due to the shamefully-limited availability of
aid for this CRAP, in the form of
personality-enhancing compounds, such as
fast-acting nasal inhalant energy powders,
libidinous bliss-inducing tablets,
therapeutic hallucinogens, and various
other social pharmaceutical necessities.
Obviously, these guys cannot handle
their own CRAP and must be aided
chemically. How many innocent men have
to be given CRAP before something is
done How much suffering must one
community endure from all this CRAP
I know what you must be thinking.
You’re thinking, “Well, while we’re waiting
for federal aid, why don’t we just provide
those around us with some tough love I
mean, medication or not, we have more
important issues to deal with than their
CRAP. And while we sympathize with
their condition, they should be able to
handle their own CRAP without infringing
upon those around them.”
Yes, that’s true enough. But let’s not
blame the victims! Look around you! All
over the place you will see guys suffering
from the delusion that they are better than
everyone else! Don’t be fooled! That is
CRAP! Obviously these poor souls have no
control over this condition and must be
shown the utmost tolerance and
compassion!
All of our gatherings, both social and
political, casual and professional, would be
made significantly more productive with
strong, direct, and immediate action toward
alleviating CRAP. By that, I mean proper
medications should be handed out at the
door, especially at dance clubs where all this
CRAP seems to have originated. An
eclectic variety of any and all of these
miraculous chemicals should be readily and
abundantly available to anyone that even
suspects that he may need it. I believe this
is the only way we can do away with all this
CRAP. As we all have seen, most guys
aren’t capable of handling it themselves.
Let’s medicate them. Thank you.
Circuit
43
Noize

Harmony on the Dance Floor
by Jeff Brascher
With GHB so high on the hit lists of many law enforcement
agencies, party promoters and club owners are being forced to
take drastic action in order to protect their licenses and their
livelihoods. Lines to get into events are long and slow-moving
because security staff must search each guest. In-and-out
privileges have been suspended at many
clubs. Announcements are made and signs
are posted promising dire consequences for
possession of liquid substances. There is
the constant threat of closure hanging over
every event. Entering a club these days is
like entering a police state.
Once on the dance floor, it is not
uncommon for the crowd to part several
times a night while one of our brothers is
carted off to a waiting ambulance. It is this
recurring drama that sometimes leads to
the closure of our favorite venues. Each
time an ambulance is called, club owners
and promoters are placed under tighter
scrutiny. Security personnel move through
our sacred spaces, hauling people off to be
searched for “dancing erratically.”
Undercover police are infiltrating what
used to be safe havens for our personal
expression and exploration.
In much of the gay media’s coverage
of our subculture, we are accused of selfabsorption
and a disregard for the wellbeing
of our fellow partiers. The truth is,
there are many behind-the-scenes
operators demonstrating just how much
love and compassion there really is in our
community. In spite of what the popular
gay press says, the general atmosphere at
most Circuit events and newer clubs is one
of love, acceptance, consideration and
support. It’s up to us to nurture these
tendencies.
Most Circuit party revelers have a
keen interest in their own health and wellbeing
as well as that of their fellows.
Unfortunately, there are few sources of
reliable information on GHB. But there
are a growing number of concerned party-goers who
are trying to educate themselves and their
communities about this drug. One group, based in
San Francisco, is called Harmony. They have produced
an informative, easy-to-read pamphlet that describes
the effects, dangerous interactions, and other risks
associated with GHB. They also give readers advice
on how to help someone who is having a GHB-related
incident. They do not advocate its use, nor do they
condemn its users. This is the first in a series of
informational materials that they hope will help
people make responsible choices about how they party.
Harmony’s efforts have been recognized by the
City and County of San Francisco. The group’s GHB
brochure has been adopted by the Department of
Public Health as the official informational vehicle for
client outreach programs. In addition, reports from at
least one major club owner indicate a significant drop
in GHB-related incidents at gay events. There has
been no drop in those incidents at straight clubs,
which is not surprising, considering Harmony has
been directing its efforts mainly at gay club-goers.
At a recent event, one of my friends began to
collapse on the dance floor. He tried to continue
dancing but seemed unconscious of my presence. I
struggled to hold him up and move him off the dance
floor. >From out of nowhere, two men appeared, lifted
him onto their shoulders and carried him to a waiting
medical professional. After a couple of tense hours and
understanding reassurances, they let me take him. He
was refreshed and ready to get back on the dance floor.
The men who helped him were members of Circuit
Scouts, an organization here in San Francisco. This
corps of dedicated volunteers attend each event,
remaining sober to help anyone suffering the effects of
drug overuse or exhaustion. Circuit Scouts, and
groups like them, is yet another manifestation of the
idea of the community taking care of itself.
The survival of our events is a matter of personal
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esponsibility. It means we must look out for
ourselves and for our friends. Educate yourself. If you
choose to use substances to enhance your experience,
do so with a conscious mind. When one of your
buddies starts to go down, help him. Don’t just prop
him up in a corner. Keep the love going even if it
means having to leave the throbbing mass to hold
your friend’s hand when he’s feeling sick or too tired
to stand. We are all in this together. Party smart or
the party may end.
Harmony can be reached with inquiries or requestsfor copies
of their brochure by sending email to:
Harmony@artwerx.com.
Circuit
53
Noize

Fight Clubs, Dance Floors,
and the Quest for Magic
by K Mechar
“Now let us sport us while we may . . .”
—Andrew Marvell [1621-1678]
I saw the film Fight Club several days after the big gay circus
known as Black and Blue had come and gone for yet another
year in Montreal. Fight Club is the Brad Pitt vehicle whose
claim to fame, in addition to rumors that
Pitt’s real-life cock is flashed on the screen,
is that it’s one of the bloodiest, most
violent films since. . . well, ever. Black and
Blue’s claim to fame, of course, is that it’s
the biggest — and arguably the best —
dance event on the planet. 1999’s edition,
attracting upwards of 15,000 people, was
held at the mammoth, and crumbling,
Olympic stadium - a testament to the
precariousness of bigness for its own sake.
If you’re scratching your head
wondering what these disparate things
could possibly have in common, consider
the following: both involve consenting
adults engaged in anti-social behavior. In
one case we have boys who like to beat the
bejesus out of each other in the
underground and illegal world of fight
clubs. In the other case, we have boys who
like to pop a pill (or three) and spend an
inordinate amount of time rubbing each
other’s temples on the less clandestine
dance floor. Both have to do with grown
men doing what they please in order to
create something special for themselves
beyond the boundaries of their ho-hum,
day-to-day lives — a magical
metamorphosis amidst our beige, IKEAized,
GAP-ed-out world. And both
contain elements of danger, even the
possibility of death, in the process.
At least two major differences emerge,
however. Fight clubs involve straight men;
Black and Blue is — or was — primarily a
gay phenomenon. Moreover, one is
elevated to the status of “high art”; the
other is subject to severe cultural and
political scrutiny. Without suggesting that
the activities of one group are “better” than the other,
this comparison reveals a number of interesting things
about rituals of male-male bonding, cultures of sport,
and the role of gay men in them. And I think it might
help explain why the Circuit seems so bizarre and
menacing to those who haven’t participated in it.
Some have argued, for example, that Circuit
parties are the gay equivalent of the male sporting
event, something we have either excluded ourselves
from or been pushed out of. We are now making up
for this lost communal bonding on the dance floor,
where we were meant to be in the first place. The
difference, of course, is that the traditional sporting
event is based on observation, where men are witness
to a spectacle of competition rather than part of it.
The Circuit party, on the other hand, is fully
participatory (pending the appropriate abs and pecs).
There is no separation between the watchers and the
watched. We are the spectacle!
This is why the film Fight Club proves so
interesting, though fictitious. It’s the first example of
straight male “sport” that breaks down those barriers.
No longer simply voyeurs, the men involved here are
themselves part and parcel of the event. It is not
without significance, then, that the bonding that goes
on in these events, more so than in traditional sports,
positively reeks of homoeroticism. At one point in the
film, I wanted to scream, “Just fuck him already,
Brad!” It’s as if just below the surface there is an
unspoken longing for male-male intimacy even among
— gasp! — straight men.
Perhaps this is why the Circuit milieu proves so
threatening. The dirty little secret has been revealed
that gay men have created a less competitive, nonviolent
way to bring themselves out of the banal in a
way that straight male culture has thus far not been
able to achieve.
Consider this as well: Black and Blue took place
at a former “Olympic” site, a bastion of straight
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masculinity and competition. But in turning what is
now a baseball field into a gigantic dance floor, we
have, for a brief, shining moment, returned the art of
sport to its ancient Greek roots - the tradition that
actually encourages men to touch each other. The
irony is exacerbated when we realize that, in a culture
where “sport” is tantamount to goal-oriented activity,
the word sport is also a verb meaning “to amuse
oneself with some pleasant pastime,” or more
appropriately in this context, “to frolic.” The Circuit
is a reminder of this forgotten element, a Dionysian
flavor that will never be achieved when masculinity is
stripped of its playfulness and sensuality.
Does the Circuit reveal, then, a cultural
transformation in rituals of male bonding Well, not
exactly. But it is interesting to note that, like so much
else in this culture, straight men are following our
lead. At events like Black and Blue — and some afterhours
clubs I know — buffed and shirtless straight
boys now mingle with the buffed and shirtless fags.
To our frustration, it’s becoming very difficult to tell
who’s who, and which end is up, so to speak.
Of course, when one of us dares to approach,
most of these straight boys cling to their girlfriends as
if she were a life-preserver in the Big-Queer-Sea,
making this less than revolutionary. But change for
the better is afoot, a partial dismantling of barriers
that most certainly does not occur, say, at that other
big dance phenomenon, the rave scene. We did not
invent the dance floor; we have simply intensified its
frenzy with a more open celebration of the body. And
straight boys want to get in on the act.
Lest we get too enamored of our own hipness,
here’s the downside of the comparison. When watching
Fight Club, I sensed that the means used to combat
this intolerable sense of the banal - this human, all too
human condition of emptiness - gave these men the
appearance of being even more pathetic than they
already were. I thought to myself: “Good for them!
This is exactly what I would like them to be doing:
taking on each other and leaving the rest of us alone. If
their lives are so empty they need to resort to brutal
violence to create some magic, then so be it. But count
me out, thanks.” Further, when the violence fails to
materialize into any concrete self-transformation, the
film gets even more violent. In other words, the
“solution” seems to be more of the same.
Does this ring a tinkerbell for you
with the experiences and criticisms of the
Circuit Anyone who has experimented
with magic-inducing psychopharmacological
substances knows too well
that momentary and uncomfortable twinge
of embarrassment when the high wanes
and the realization hits that - Oh my God!
- in your moment of glory you must have
looked, in the eyes of the drug-free, as
pathetic as the psyched-out revelers appear
to you now. It is that line you cross from
reality to chemically-enhanced hyperreality
and back to something not quite
real - that moment when you realize it was
just a game, and someone has pulled your
plug.
And as with all groups, extremes of
(self) destruction can be found here among
the Circuit boys. When last weekend’s
drugs didn’t quite do the trick, the answer
for many is simple: more drugs. This is no
doubt why we have constructed yet another
set of categories to differentiate ourselves:
those who do the Circuit and those who
don’t. Like my reaction to the men in the
film, many gay men would like the Circuit
boys to simply go away. Given the
immensely sad cases we have all witnessed
on and off the dance floor, can we really
blame them
Herein lies the lesson: if fight clubs did
exist, it is likely they would not be treated
with the same scrutiny as the Circuit party.
Since the onset of AIDS, and even before,
we have had to be more ready and willing
to defend our sexual and cultural practices
against an inquiring, and at times, hostile
world. But instead of dismissing this as
simple homophobia, I am glad the Circuit
is subject to such criticisms. For, unlike the
world of traditional male sports, the
criticism forces us to be conscious of what
we are doing, why we are doing it, and for
whom. If you lack such consciousness,
perhaps you need to listen to some of those
Circuit critiques.
Circuit
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Noize

Just the Music
by Thomas L Stoodley
I hope your New Year’s celebration was as splendid as mine. I
danced and danced as the end of a year, a decade, and a century
passed. While dancing into the new “millennium”, I heard some
great, hot, new tunes as well as some classics which took me
back to moments I have had both on and off the dance
floor over the last year as well as the passing
decade. So let me tell you about them, as
well as other great music selections coming
your way.
Singles in Review
If you find yourself humming the lines
to Amber’s “Sexual”, get ready to start
singing along to her newest effort. “High
Above The Clouds”, the second single off
her current album, is sure to get you joining
in the chorus. I had fallen in love with this
one the first time I heard it a few months
back. Be sure to check out my favorite mix
by BK Dano, as well as Jonathon Peter’s
banging club mix.
Recently signed to TommyBoy
Records, UK duo, Catapila have a hot
single climbing up the charts. “Void (I
Need You)”, comes complete with U.S.
mixes by none other than Mr. Junior
Vasquez himself. Junior’s mix is truly one
of his best works to date, fitting in with
such classics as his interpretations of
Whitney’s “Step By Step”, and Kylie’s “Too
Far”. This one is sure to become both a
club and Circuit hit.
Moving on, what can one say about
Donna Summer’s “Love Is The Healer”
There are quite a few mixes to choose from,
but please pay attention to the ThunderPuss
2000 Remix. This tune has a fun, campy,
yet very well-delivered message by our
favorite disco queen.
You may not know the name Satoshi
Tommiie, but you know his work. He has
been part of the Def mix team for some
time now, working with David Morales and
Frankie Knuckles on many projects and
remixes. Satoshi has produced an album of great dance
songs. “Inspired”, recently released in France, is one of
those songs. It is a beautiful, melodic scorcher featuring
the vocal talents of Diane Charlemage. Diane’s soft,
caressing voice catches the theme of this song with such
ease. And if that’s not enough, the strings, flute and
chords will inspire you to sing along.
We have not heard from the Eurythmics in quite
some time now, but they’re back and rocking the house
again. With remix honors given by Club 69’s Peter
Rauhofer and ThunderPuss 2000, “17 Again” is bound
to be heard on dance floors everywhere. Mr. Rauhofer
has re-invented his style once again, transforming this
into the sound of the future. His mix combines his
usual brilliance of banging percussion with some of the
better elements of trance. In other words, there’s a
melody.
“Here I Am”, the first single off the forthcoming
album, “Here I Am, the Bobby D Ambrosio
Collection”, is a sure-fire winner. With the vocal talents
of newcomer Kelli Sae, and the production wizardry of
Mr. Ambrosio, this single is bound to be a biggie for
those that just love the lush, classic, vocal house music
of the last decade. And tell me if this voice does not
remind you of one Circuit diva, Dina Carroll.
For those who loved the crooning of Olive’s Ruth-
Ann on such classics as “Outlaw” and “You’re Not
Alone”, she has returned as the guest vocalist on the
newest single from Enigma. With clear vocals, a real
song, and epic uptempo production, “Gravity Of Love”
brings Enigma into the new decade with a vengeance.
In line with the sound of near future, Morrighan’s
“Remember (To the Millennium)” is sure to capture the
hearts of many. From the same producer who brought
us Crescendo’s “Are You Out There”, we have a new
single. With soaring violins, dark moody synths, and a
euphoric voice instructing us to “remember who we
are”, this one should be the anthem of the new decade
and millennium.
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Noize

Albums in Review
As I mentioned earlier, Satoshi Tomiie is no
stranger to the club music scene. We have all danced
to songs this producer/remixer has created or worked
on. It is great to see Satoshi stepping into the spotlight
with a full-length U.S. release due out on Sony Records
very soon. “Full Lick” contains a great collection of
songs no music library would be complete without.
With songs ranging from the gorgeous, lush, classicsounding
vocal anthem “Inspired” to the harder,
banging, club-hit “Darkness”, and on to some
beautiful, down-tempo numbers, there’s something
here for everyone.
We all thought it was part of our past, some of us
don’t openly admit to it, but we all know the words to
at least five Culture Club songs. Don’t deny it, it’s
OK, we love you anyway. I had heard rumors of a new
Culture Club album over a year ago but did not believe
it. Well believe it, it’s here, and it’s fierce. This is
probably the best album from them to date. It’s got
the classic Culture Club feel, but with a deeper sense of
warmth and maturity. Boy’s voice has never sounded
more smooth and connected. Sure, the Boy still sings
about John, but it’s more heartfelt and you yearn to
hold and comfort him. I do believe Boy George is one
of the best undiscovered songwriters of the past decade.
For those of you who love the more moody, afterhours
sounds of the “Body & Soul” craze, or the deep,
smooth stuff you might hear Circuit DJ Susan
Morabito play in some of her late-night sets, you’ll love
the Kevin Yost album, “One Starry Night”. With
smooth percussion, and deep, warm, rich overtones,
this album is great for chilling out. I enjoy it during
more intimate moments, as well as to relax after
arriving home from a night out.
A couple years ago, I discovered an artist who just
blew my mind away. It’s not often you get to hear a
living voice that can easily match the voice of Divas
from the past. Sarah Jane Morris not only has such a
voice, but she also knows how to use it. I don’t like to
throw the big names around, but the only way to
describe this angel’s instrument is to say she is a sister
to such legendary greats Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah
Vaughan. “Fallen Angel”, Sarah’s upcoming, new, fulllength
album, captures a more raw, aggressive side to
this singer/songwriter. Two particular tracks stand out
for me - the ever-soulful “Ever Gonna Make It” and
the haunting “Only To Be With You”.
Compilations in Review
DJ/Monty Q’s
“Circuit Sonic”
If you’re a die-hard Sunscreem fan, then this disc is
for you. It contains a new mix of “Secrets”, with the
remix honors coming from none other than
the voice of Sunscreem, Lucia. This
twinkling vibe mix, with Lucia’s childlike
chanting weaving throughout it will get you
on your feet and humming along.
Bossa Tress......Jazz
When Japan Meets Europe
This import CD is a double disc jazzy
affair. The first disc is more downtempo -
relaxing ambient material that soothes the
mind. Disc 2 contains a midtempo body of
work that goes from ambient jazz to
alternative forms of jazz. Great hanging out
and making out music.
DJ/Producer Julian Marsh
Global Grooves Vol. 1
DJ extraordinaire Julian Marsh has
compiled a body of songs we all love. Julian
seems to understand we want VOCALS,
VOCALS, and more VOCALS. He has
included such floor-fillers as the hard-to-get
CB Milton’s “What About Me”, his own mix
of Boy George’s “When Will You Learn”, as
well as Billie Ray Martin’s newest single,
“Honey”. You’re sure to love this one.
DJ/Susan Morabito
I Love To Dance
Susan has captured her funky, soulful
sound on this disc. She has included some
of those songs which we have come to
expect from her, as well as few harder-tofind
goodies.
DJ/Michael Fierman
Fire Island Classics Vol. 2
This is the second volume in this series
and it promises to be in many collections
across the land. Michael has collected some
of the old classics, as well as some new
classics, which have become part of our Fire
Island experience. I love the way he
compiled them over two discs. The first is
dedicated to “when it was disco”, for the
older stuff, while the second, “the
evolution”, contains the newer material.
Great thinking is all I have to say - and
thanks.
Well, that’s all for now, but be sure to
pick up the next issue - there’s always more
buzz in the dance music world.
Circuit
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Noize

Circuit Sage
by Michael Lennox
Dear Circuit Sage,
I recently went to stay with friends that live in NYC. Just
before the trip, I realized that I had crabs (as in pubic lice). I
treated myself before I went on the trip, but I know from past
experience that the crabs could easily return. Further, I could
easily infect my friend’s bed sheets or
bath towels. Do you think I am
obligated to inform my host of this
potential problem
-Scratching in Miami
Dear Slut,
I’m so relieved that you clarified the
definition of crabs as pubic lice. At first, I
thought this was a culinary question
regarding seafood.
As in most situations of delicacy, there is
a high road and a low road. The latter is
obviously not to tell and hope for the best.
But keep in mind that in taking that road,
you must ask yourself who you are protecting.
The answer is, of course, yourself. It would
be embarrassing, to say the least, to admit
that you had crabs, and even more so if, for
some reason, your guest contracted them after
your visit. If, perchance, your guest thought
you were hot and found himself beating off
in your dirty sheets as a remembrance of your
visit, you might find that he got more than
he bargained for.
The high road is to tell. I once had
crabs myself (can you believe it!!). I thought
they were gone until a partner of mine
dropped by unexpectedly without calling. I
was thrilled, because I thought he was
coming over to get laid. But, in fact, he was
there to ask me if I had crabs because he,
indeed, had them and was in the process of
contacting his recent partners to make sure
they were in the clear. While I thought mine
were gone, upon closer inspection, we found a
little critter buried contentedly in my pubes.
My friend had brought with him a Rid kit
and proceeded to help administer it. It was
one of the most lovely and intimate experiences I have
ever had with anyone, despite the fact that I was
mortified and humiliated. He had taken the high road
and as a result I was overwhelmed with his gentleness and
care.
I cannot advise you which road to take. The low
road will save you embarrassment. If nothing comes of it,
there is certainly no big deal. The high road will be a
momentarily scary approach, but will leave you with a
strong sense of having done the right thing. The choice is
truly yours. Good luck.
-Circuit Sage
Dear Circuit Sage,
I started dating my current boyfriend more
than six months ago. During those early months,
we were not at all serious about the relationship,
and had the agreement that we could date others.
During that time I attended a Circuit party in
Montreal and met a cute guy. I subsequently visited
him once and stayed with him in Montreal. We
then made plans for him to visit me in New York.
He is now holding non-refundable tickets to come
and visit me. He’s made it quite clear that he has
limited funds and this will be his one vacation of
the year. Since making these plans, things have
gotten much more serious between me and the guy
that I was originally dating. In fact, I would now
call us serious boyfriends. Should I tell Mr.
Montreal that he can’t come visit I guess I could
allow him to visit but let him know that sex will no
longer be a part of the agenda. Given the past
history, though, I don’t think my boyfriend would
be comfortable with that either. What should I do
-Confused in NYC
Dear Polygamist,
Sounds like a hot three-way in the making.
First, it is important to note that you are not
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Noize

esponsible for Mr. Montreal’s limited funds,
vacation plans, or his expectations of what
will happen between the two of you. This
does not preclude sympathy nor does it give
you free reign to be an asshole. Standing in the
face of your truth is the most important
element here, with both gentlemen.
As far as your boyfriend is concerned, I
would suggest honesty with him about the
situation with the added explanation of what
boundaries you are willing to set with the
visitor. If he is uncomfortable with that, that,
too, is not your business, but your boyfriend’s.
If he does not trust you or is very
uncomfortable with the situation (a modicum
of uncomfortableness is to be expected), I
would say that you have an issue with your
boyfriend that will need to be addressed
because it will surely come up again in other
situations.
Indeed, you should, and as soon as
possible, explain to Mr. Montreal that you are
seriously involved and that your connection on
his visit will under no circumstances be
sexual. If he is not able to handle the change,
then he needs to make other arrangements at
his own expense, both financial and
emotional.
You may not be able to please everybody
in this situation and the bottom line is that it
is not your business to do so. Start by telling
the truth to both people involved and see what
comes up. Do this simultaneously. You will
not be able to figure out what to do in a
vacuum. You will need the input from each
of them to discover the next step to take.
What I would like to see happen is Mr.
Montreal to visit, to take care of his own
vacation needs, to accept a non-sexual
friendship between the two of you, and,
perhaps, even the three of you enjoying some
fun times together.
Most importantly, when you set up a
boundary, be prepared to stick to it.
-Circuit Sage
We need your questions! You can email hem to
circuitsage@circuitnoize.com. Circuit Sage is
Michael Lennox, Los Angeles based Dream
Interpreter and Life Coach currently pursuing his
Doctorate in Psychology.
Reach him at 310-585-8302.
Circuit
97
Noize

This is a story about a boy
and his dog. I’m the dog.
It begins with Friday night plans to join my
esteemed friend and the proprietor of The
Celebrity Lounge (a club that’s so exclusive its
nonexistent, but still your friends will brag that
they belong).
The dear boy and I had plans to meet in
Manhattan during his recent visit from Babylon
By The Sea - South Beach. It promised to be a
weekend of merriment and debauchery - filled
with bacchanal behavior so sinful and carnal - we
could hardly wait to start denying it. “You did
what With him Well who paid for the
donkey” That sort of stuff.
Then Saturday morning, the news hit the
Trinitron. John F. Kennedy, Jr. and company
were missing, and the family was gathering at
Hyannis Port. Having my own compound to
maintain before dashing off to Gotham, I was not
transfixed, not hanging on every tidbit of
misinformation from third string acquaintances
trying speculate what the family matriarch might
be saying to the grief-stricken surviving cousins.
Physically unfortunate Uncle Ted, out of focus
of jester, but too much “Din Da Da” and its “off
with her head”. Please (Sorry Kevin.)
Manhattan, whose similarities with Great
Britain end with the description; “an island,” is a
true sovereign nation. The surrounding
boroughs: territory of the crown. Beyond the
Hudson The world is still flat, carried by four
elephants that stand on a turtle. (I believe the
turtle’s name is Camille Paglia. I argue this
constantly with my friend Atlas; he only looks at
me, and shrugs).
Those of us who live beyond the moat are
considered daring serfs who toil in unfertile fields
and in fear of being pillaged by dark lords of the
underworld. This is also true, only we call it
suburbia and the dark lords Republicans.
So anyway, as I was walking up tenth avenue
late Saturday Night on my way from Roxy to
Twilo I was thinking about JFK, Jr. Suddenly it
was colder and I was feeling older. Could it be
because of this man that got away I admit I was
thinking about it more than I thought necessary,
not the JFK, Jr. thing, but the levels of class and
privilege we establish in our minds about those
with beauty and success in a major metropolitan
city.
Greetings from
behind a TV talking head who lisps more than
Christopher Lowell when teaching how to
bedazzle a toaster cozy.
I paid my respects by turning off the
television.
Still, it got me thinking on the grand
presumption. The Kennedy family. Our royal
family. Americans have been longing for a
monarchy from the very minute we broke away,
and nowhere is this truer than within urban gay
social structure. The only difference here is that
gay men have chosen to memorialize the tea party
in very different ways.
I really doubt there were any gay brethren at
the actual first revolt in Boston Harbor. Can you
imagine how long that would have taken Sorting
out the herbal teas and superior blends for
themselves I can hear them hissing, “Not the
Earl Gray, for Chrissakes, just dump the shitty
orange pekoe!”
Windsor Castle for us is New York. The
immediate New York gay royal family is not a
divine one, by birth or marriage. Membership is
determined by body, ability to DJ, size of
apartment or accessibility to dealers. A pretty
good drag routine will get you into the position
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And just as this country has watched dear
John-John grow up (he hated that name, except
in bed), there is one particular person I have
watched in New York. Okay, I have watched
several. I can’t say that any of them have actually
grown up, but I watch them all the same. It’s not
like the stalking you think it is, although our
dating battle cry here in Amish Country has
always been, “Don’t quit until you get the
restraining order.” It’s more like wistful
admiration, blended generously with an intense
carnal lust.
When I got to Twilo, Lancaster’s native son
Junior Vasquez was venting at the turntable.
As Junior revved up to knock the stylus once
again, I decided to escape to the bathroom. I
admit I was peeved. Being one of those loathed
serfs from way out west beyond the Hudson, of
course I paid full cover charge. Junior’s a
hometown boy, so for his accomplishments alone,
he will always have my unconditional love.
Moreover, dance music is dance music, and its
not going to change my life, but at that moment,
I would have rather listened to a tape loop of
“Happy Birthday To You” than suffer another
minute of incoherent noise.

Celebrity
Loungeby
Kerry Hettinger

Then it happened. I looked up from doing
that prisoner-of-war shuffle you must apply if
you want to get anywhere in a jammed and
packed New York nightclub and I saw him, across
the crowded room. This was certainly turning
into some enchanted evening. I felt like Emile,
the plantation owner, and he, my Ensign Nellie
Forbush. To my left, what I thought would be
my two Portuguese children, but they looked like
they were actually fucking on the banquette. Just
behind me, I cast the three hundred pound
security-slob as Bali Hai itself.
The Portuguese players moaned. I made a
mental note to remind them that if they’re going
to be incestuous, at least let’s videotape it and sell
it on the Internet.
You like You buy”
The girl moaned, “Dites moi, pourquoi, la
vie est belle.” “Why is life beautiful,” she asked
I’d say that, because at that moment in front of
me across the lobby, stood my own equivalent to
John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Jr., crown prince of the
New York gay royal family. ‹ber Stud. Master of
Wit. I have admired this guy for nearly four
years.
Now, this guy looks nothing like Jackie’s boy,
mind you, he’s much better. His name is not
very identifying in its commonality and I do not
want to disgruntle him into never speaking to me
again, so let’s just call him: Chris. He plays the
boy... I play one of those corgies that poor, dear,
dead Diana’s captors loved more than her.
But, Chris, in no way, to my knowledge,
considers himself New York royalty. I do. And for
good reason.
His build is the stuff we all shoplifted men’s
exercise magazines for when we were twelve.
Conjure if you will, the perfect features of all
those escorts during the debutante ball scene in
Rich Man, Poor Man, throw in several hard years
at the gym, and you’re getting warm.
How trite, but how true, it is, after all, his
mind. Chris’s is one or two steps ahead of mine,
he is quick on the draw (with words mind you)
and can turn ten funny phrases to my one (if you
think this is funny, what with me pouring out my
heart and all to you unappreciative tweaked little
bastards). Wit to me is a powerful aphrodisiac.
Oh, and here’s a trait that sets him off from all
those others —he’s employed! I acknowledge the
fact that I’m going off like Kim McAfee on
Conrad Birdie, but you’ll just have to indulge me.
Since that first day when I met him, Chris
has always been full of friendly nonsensical banter
and repartee. He has also managed to confound
me, given his beauty, to more than just stop and
air-kiss hello, but often he will recline across me
in the same chair for an extended “How do you
do” Okay, I admit that the first time this
happened I thought it was a lap dance and I tried
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100
to tip him, but I’m always battling low selfesteem
(that’s the dog part - for those enjoying
audience participation say, What is it
Lassie, Grandpa in a K-hole). I could never for
the life of me figure out why such a divine
creature of the day and night, would have
anything to do with me, the Legend of Sleepy
Hollow, but he always would.
Fuck the bathroom. Like an embassy staffer
trying to catch the last helicopter out of Saigon in
‘75, I darted upstairs to the lounge and found
my prey headed right toward me. My knees got
weak, my vision started to tunnel, and I could
barely hear the music. Is this the effect this
stunning boy has on me each time I see him
No. I immediately realized that I must remember
never to trust anyone who insists “I swear, I know
which bottle is in which pocket.” It wasn’t Chris,
it was “K!”
I forsook the niceties of small talk, partly
because I wasn’t feeling much like Jane Austin
these days, and partly because I have a standard
greeting I have used with Chris since I met him;
“Wanna fuck”
Actually, I said, “When are we going to
fuck”
“Tuesday” he answered, not missing a beat
and sweeping his arm around me.
I told him that in my left pocket (I can
remember) I had just the thing to move that date
closer and he agreed. The astonishing thing was
that my offer was based solely on communal
living principles instilled in me by my friends -
you share. Despite my promise of no strings
attached to the bounty before him, Chris was still
interested in Tuesday come early. My Cinderella
moment had arrived.
He danced with his ex, and shocking me
once again, met me in the lobby area just as
promised. Believe me, I’ve waited pathetically for
more losers to meet me somewhere in a club. I
make Beckett’s Waiting For Godot seem like a
quick one act comedy.
Directly outside Twilo, at the curb and being
guarded by five jealous doorman, was my pride
and joy on wheels, a 1969 Buick Wildcat dick
magnet convertible. Royal blue, with factory mag
wheels and a boot for the top. For any straight
readers, there’s a 435 V-8 under the hood. For
our gay readers, let’s just say its pretty.
Chris loved the car. I may not live within the
walled city but I know what the little princes
love. To demonstrate how swell I am, I even let
him drive this stand-in for my gilded coach.
To his dismay, Chris didn’t attract any dick
while waiting in the car. I explained that this was
summer and the other royals were probably up
north at their own version of Balmoral - The Big
Cup. We didn’t bother to check it out, but
instead raced home, the anticipation, nearly
Noize

Up close, celebrity
is not distinguishable
from the status quo
(unless it’s Cher, then
you still have the surgery
scars for clues).
driving me mad.
Well, let me tell you, the “four year
handshake” as he so wittingly put it, was worth
every second of the wait. If I never expected to
see him again, I would tell you everything in
detail, but I do, so I won’t. Chris is just one great
feast of lip-smacking-finger-licking-tastygoodness.
How great Let’s just say I would do
him on the Thanksgiving table in front of my
mother, while balancing the cranberry sauce and
pickle dish on my ass. My Mom still asks me
when I’m getting married, so you know that’s
saying a lot.
As for exactly what happened, all in all, it
was your garden variety, dance with no steps
between the sheets. No toys. No real fetishes. It
was, perhaps, the best sex I have ever had.
Mountains moved, rivers boiled, HOURS passed.
Oh, and he videotaped it.
Now before any of you think, “Geez, I could
have skipped reading this and just waited for the
movie.” Guess again. It is for my eyes only, or at
least it is until he ignores me rudely next time I
see him, pretending we barely know each other.
Then you can rush $12.95 plus $4.00 shipping
and handling to Archival Films, PO Box 345,
Intercourse, Pa 17801 and see him moan as he
takes every inch of my tool like the dirty little
pussy boy he is. Oops.
I have it to look back on as proof that it
really happened. For one fine moment I had
been to the Ball and danced with the prince. Like
the immortal line from The Rainmaker, now at
least I can’t say I’ve never been asked.
Friends I left at Twilo came pounding on the
door right around the final curtain call, so I
squired the good boy Chris to his apartment like
Moondoggie and Gidget back from doing the
nasty in the dunes. Just as I was to pull away
from the curb, Chris turned and leaned over,
kissing me again. A truck went by at that
moment but I swear I heard him say, “...and you
Scarecrow, I shall miss you most of all.” I looked
to the sky for a rainbow. A bird shit on the
windshield.
Upon my return to my friend’s place, I burst
through the door doing my best Joey Arias doing
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Billie Holiday singing “What A Night, What A
Guy, What A Kiss.” The squirrels and doves
outside joined in, just like in a Disney movie, but
my friend insists on singing contra-alto, so
against my forced falsetto, it sounded like
something Miss Holiday would have recorded
while on heroin.
Just like the boys from South Park, I think I
learned something that day.
Up close, celebrity is not distinguishable
from the status quo (unless it’s Cher, then you
still have the surgery scars for clues). The only
difference between Cinderella in rags and a
brush, and Cinderella in silk with a tiara, is
costuming. This is a great truth of life, along with
the fact that Striesand was too old to play Yentl.
The images you form in your mind and
project onto others are dispelled or reinforced by
experience and you realize in a moment that
members of the beautiful people society get their
hearts broken as much as you, whether it’s the
gay Manhattan chapter, or the one in Hyannis
Port. He’s not going door to door with a glass
slipper, yet I have discovered that I have as much
to offer this guy, or any other for that matter.
Maybe even more.
Yet being so unfamiliar with nocturnal success
of this nature, it brings to mind the old adage;
“Be careful what you wish for, you just might get
it.”
And then you might only want more.
Sometimes you get more - along with a
mountain of debt and herpetic sores, but that’s
only if what you’re wishing for was born and
raised in Georgia. Sometimes you don’t. And
when it comes up rotten, I take comfort in
remembering that although Meade won the
battle, it is General Pickett’s disastrous but noble
charge that we still revere and honor today.
It’s not bad being the dog. Lassie never ran
away, Old Yeller always came back, and Rin-Tin-
Tin always got his man.
Never give up, and by all means keep
wishing and trying. The alternative is to
compromise and live in silent despair. And that
my boys, is not what I would ever want for you.
Or your dog.
Noize

Anal Sex
by John R. Ballew, M.S., L.P.C.
Anal sex is often seen as the definitive gay act. Sure, straight
men have butts, but far fewer of them have explored this
erogenous zone, and fewer still would admit it. Compared with
heterosexual guys, gay men tend to be more familiar with their
prostrates. We are much more likely to associate this little
gland with pleasure rather than
embarrassment during physical exams.
Some research suggests that our prostrates
are healthier, too.
Just the same, there is a certain sense
of mystery about our sphincters. Unless
you are seriously flexible, you’ve probably
not seen this part of your body directly
yourself. Your partner or boyfriend or
even a casual trick probably has a clearer
picture of what you look like down there
than you do yourself. (Hint: buy a small
mirror and enjoy the view.)
There are other reasons why butt
holes are powerful, pleasurable and even
mystical. According to psychoanalytic
theory, gaining control over this part of
our bodies is the way young children begin
mastering their environment — by
pleasing mom and dad at diaper-changing
time. This little ring of muscle (two rings,
actually) starts to take on a sense of
importance about that time.
The anal sphincter has lots of nerve
endings capable of great delight when
massaged or probed by someone who
knows what he is doing. Deeper inside, the
nerve endings aren’t so well educated.
Nerve endings inside the rectum mostly
signal “full” or “empty.” Therefore, the
pleasure some men get from a large cock is
likely to be psychological, unless that big
fella is rubbing against the prostate.
Some of us learn to hold these
muscles very tight indeed. To call someone
a “tight ass” is to call them stressed-out,
rigid and controlling. One reason anal sex
is so pleasurable is that it requires us to
relax these overly-tight muscles. You can
have the rest of your body relaxed and still have a tense
sphincter. Relax the sphincter, though, and you’re not
likely to find much physical tension anywhere else in
the body.
Odd, then, that anal sex has often held a sense of
the forbidden about it. Sexism and homophobia make
anal sex a taboo in Western culture. Homophobes
often misunderstand anal sex as somehow passive and
“feminine.” This is ridiculous, of course. We all know
lots of masculine men who prefer to be the receiver
when it comes to fucking. And men who enjoy taking
in their partner’s cock are often anything but passive!
Many gay men find that the experience of anal sex
has a spiritual element to it. If you think of sex as an
exchange of energy, male sexual energy is typically
hard, driving and forceful. (Think of ejaculation.)
Taoists call this energy yang.
Anal sex is perhaps the primary way men can
cultivate the corresponding energy, called yin. It is easy
to misidentify yang as male energy and yin as female.
This is sexist oversimplification. Yin is soft, yielding,
receptive, enfolding. In our culture, these are attributes
that don’t always come easily to men. Men who
“bottom” in anal sex can be perceived to be feeding
their yin energy. Sex becomes a way of balancing
energy and creating wholeness. Healthy anal sex is
good for you.
If your ideas about anal sex don’t include concepts
like softening and enveloping, it may be because most
of us don’t know any better. Where did you learn
about anal sex Did it come up in sex ed classes in
junior high Not likely, I’m afraid. Did Dad talk with
you about your butt hole when he discussed the birds
and the bees Doubtful. Probably one gay man in a
thousand has had a healthy conversation about anal
sex with a parent or teacher. In addition, there is
something of a prejudice against penetration among
some gay men. Fantasies to the contrary, most men are
not very skilled at helping inexperienced men learn to
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enjoy being entered.
Most of us learn about anal sex through either
erotic videos or on-the-job training. The problem
with this is that the teaching partner isn’t always
patient or well-informed. And porn flicks rarely
include much in the way of foreplay, moving from
kissing to penetration as quickly as possible. Written
porn is even less helpful, usually implying that
penetration hurts like hell at first, only to be
transformed into horny delight as the thrusting
continues.
There is a lot of misinformation out there. One
recently published sex manual for gay men seems to
suggest that if anal penetration is difficult, the
partners involved should just keep at it; the muscles
will fatigue and entry will be easier. Some men use
drugs or numbing ointments to make penetration
easier. These men are either trying too hard — and
likely will hurt themselves — or they are learning to
treat their bodies like machines. These are not loving
acts. They are forms of violence against our
own bodies. The truth is we cannot love
our whole selves if we do not learn to love
our holes.
Anal sex is too often portrayed as all
about penetration, conquest and power. It
is too infrequently presented as learning to
savor the subtle sensations and mysteries of
our bodies.
Next time, we’ll take a look at why
some men find such an erotic charge
around barebacking and what is sometimes
called “transgressive sex.”
John R. Ballew, M.S., is a licensed professional
counselor in private practice in Atlanta. He
specializes in issues related to coming out,
sexuality and relationships, spirituality and
career. He can be reached via the web at
www.bodymindsoul.org or at (404) 874-8536.
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Alone, I move out from the shadows
to the center of the dance floor. My jeans
are weighted low across my hips, a halfempty
bottle of water pressed firmly against
my backside. I feel his sweaty presence
surface on my skin. He has a passionate,
yet hardened, caress. The faintly pungent
scents of leather and sweat emanate from
his grip. Callused hands press me tightly
against the warm center of his thighs. Two
fingers slide effortlessly between a belt loop
on either side of my hips. Two, large,
strong thumbs press against my skin,
instructing me from side to side.
In this heightened state of being, the
slightest gesture prevails - the cock of a
head, the ever-inviting smile, the faintest
tremor.
I travel the length of his arm, gliding
up his bicep, my palms returning flat
against the rock hard edge of his triceps.
intensify into a wild, hot torque of flesh.
For one split second, my eyes open,
sweat dripping from my brow, and dart
outward across the crowded floor. Peter
pulls into view, his own tight muscular
frame pressed firmly between two men.
The grin on his face is at once sheepish,
perhaps envious Our eyes instinctively
meet and, without a single word needed, he
throws me a quick “thumbs-up” before
slipping back into his own private shadow.
The groove is dark, bass-heavy, steady,
and dare I say it, throbbing
The faint fluttering above my groin
tightens as I imagine it is my own hands
traveling the length of my torso and waist,
my own hot embrace pressed tightly to my
side. I trace every texture and curve of my
skin, suddenly acutely aware of my own
body, of its limitations and restraints, the
way it bends and turns, the way it smells,
A Private
His body tapers to a single inviting beat,
his hips thrust me forward and deeper into
the crowd, back into the shadows.
A certain excitement awakens.
I close my eyes in quiet abandon,
concerned less with who this stranger is
and more with the sheer masculinity of the
moment - the strength of his hands, the
pressing warmth of his chest against my
back. In sweaty synchronization, in a
glittering heated sheen, we glide from side
to side. All eyes, it seems, turn in our
direction, peering out from under caps and
beneath masks.
The groove travels between us, its
rhythm pulling us together, igniting us into
a rock hard one. I’m loving the music,
really feeling its flow, completely immersed
in the tribal drums and awash in the
sounds and smells around me as they
the way each hypnotic beat rushes right
through me. It is myself that I am
instructing, my body filling with the scents
and sights of the dance floor.
The groove reasserts itself in a
commanding crescendo.
I try and turn to face my unseen
stranger, but I am met with firm resistance.
He is in control. This is his moment. He
wants me to surrender to his dance. I
understand and, for now, I accept.
Brandon is the Global Groove Guy. He is featured on
every CD cover of Centaur Entertainment’s monthly
CD series, which presents the best new dance music from
around the world. Each CD is continuously mixed by a
rotating line-up of your favorite DJs. Brandon is
photographed exclusively by renowned image-maker,
David Morgan. Each month, in the CD liner notes and
on centaurmusic.com, Brandon writes about different
facets of the dance music experience.
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Shadow
Dance
by Brandon

Taking a Bullet
by J Chris
“Can you smell it” he whispers in my ear, plunging the clear
plastic device deep into my nose. Colored beams from the
spinning lights above reflect off his heavy chest, glossed wet
with sweat, and a mark resembling a biohazard label spins
wildly on his shoulder. Then it fades into the intense barrage of
lights cascading from above. My hand
presses deeper into his jeans pocket, where
I’ve deposited a small slip of paper with
my name and number scrawled. I attempt
to repeat his name in my mind, but I only
draw a blank as the fine white powder
begins ceasing my brain. He smiles, and a
blur of names fills my mind - Mike, Tom,
Dan, Frank. I close my eyes and we grasp
hands tightly in a primal dance of
moisture, light, music and ecstasy. A rush
of heat overwhelms me followed by an
eerie calmness that deadens my senses.
Lyrics from the loudspeakers muffle and
drift until silence falls.
Startling me from my slumber, the
telephone rings, bolting me upright.
Comforting sounds of my home have
replaced the pounding hard house music. I
sit upright momentarily, undressed down
to my briefs, but then I collapse backward
resuming my docile role atop the
comforter. I’m home. I don’t want to be
awake, and I feel like crap.
Listening to my messages later,
miscellaneous images from the night enter
and exit my mind. The messenger’s
congested voice sounds familiar, “Hey Jim,
this is Shawn from the bar. I don’t know if
you remember that bump I shared with
you last night, but I managed to get you
home and to your bed. Sorry we
didn’t get to play or anything. Hell, even a
goodnight kiss would’ve been nice, but
you kinda fell out. Oh well, it’s
probably for the best. Sounds like I’ve
caught a nasty cold anyway. I’ll call again
later.” I save his message and try to recall
the night’s events. “Well, at least we didn’t
do anything, but why do I feel so achy” I ask myself,
now convinced that I, too, am getting sick.
Jim, like thousands of gay men, routinely enjoys
Saturday nights at his local dance club. Often that
means men, music, drugs and sex - and all the stress
that goes along with these activities. MedEvent
founder Chris Mann, a doctor of sports medicine, has
spent the past two years traversing the Circuit
organizing gay-friendly, party-knowledgeable forces to
provide first aid for those who have overindulged.
Between assists, Dr. Mann has had plenty of time to
witness typical dance floor behaviors. From this, he
began drawing conclusions about the role of drug
paraphernalia - primarily bullets and bumpers - in the
transmission of bacteria and viruses.
“It’s a mindless blood on blood transport that we
haven’t been thinking about,” says Dr. Mann, referring
to sharing bullets. “It could transmit all kinds of
diseases, including HIV.”
Dr. Mann began discussing this issue among gay
health authorities in San Francisco last spring. At the
time, the significance that bullets play in disease
transmission raised some initial concern among the
leaders, he says. Dr. Mann decided to spearhead a
campaign to educate and encourage behavioral change
among those who use powder drugs, such as cocaine,
ketamine and crystal methamphetamine. When
snorted, these powders can dry out the nasal passages
and cause bleeding, either directly or from irritation
caused by blowing the nose. Exchanging even small
amounts of blood via a device such as a plastic “bullet”
or “bumper” may lead to transmission of infectious
diseases such as hepatitis B, hepatitis C, and the
common cold.
“When we got to thinking about it, the practice
of sharing bullets was going on in the dark, hundreds
of times on dance floors, and nobody was really
thinking about what they were doing,” Dr. Mann says.
“This could potentially transmit all the sexually
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transmitted diseases, including hepatitis and HIV. It’s
actually a pretty risky behavior when you think about
taking blood from someone you don’t know, and
you’re snorting into your absorbent nasal passages.
Even if you don’t get HIV, you may get any number
of infections, be they viral or bacterial.”
The Centers for Disease Control cites shared
straws for snorting cocaine as a transmission route for
hepatitis and other infectious diseases. According to
Dr. Mann, infectious disease specialists have
established a 1-in-400 infection rate associated with
HIV transmission from bloody mucosa to bloody
mucosa.
While there have been no known cases where
bullets or bumpers have been specifically cited as the
carrier of the HIV virus, Dr. Mann points out that
few individuals are open with their physicians
regarding drug usage. In addition, he notes that few
in the health care industry are aware of the possible
significance that drug use could have on the spread of
disease. Physicians are not likely to make the
correlation of the possibility of infection on the dance
floor. “The medical community is totally ignorant to
this behavior,” Dr. Mann says.
Worse than bullets, bumpers have a shape that
lends to further insertion into the nose, Dr. Mann
says. “They’re especially dangerous, because their tips
are not as rounded as bullet tops. Bumpers are
designed to be inserted in the nose, like a nasal
sprayer. They go up the nose further,” he says. “Using
a key and holding it to the end of your nose is much
safer.”
“Obviously, the most desirable option
is to not use drugs, but this isn’t a practical
approach,” he says. “I recommend that you
keep your bullet to yourself. Or try to wipe
it off, and make sure it’s clean if you’re
sharing a bullet. Know the medical history
of the person with whom you’re sharing or
use something else to do the drugs.”
Dr. Mann hopes that, gradually,
behavior on the dance floor and at parties
will change, but he realizes that a long road
lies ahead.
Besides Dr. Mann, there are few
known authorities, but he credits Craig R.
Waldo, Ph.D., a research specialist with the
UCSF Center for AIDS Prevention Studies
and the UCSF AIDS Research Institute, as
another source of information. Dr. Mann
praised Waldo for his interest in this
relatively new area of disease transmission
via drug paraphernalia. But, the fight, he
contends, remains a one-man battle.
“Right now, there aren’t many
resources, and the best thing to do is spread
the word to change your dance floor
habits,” says Dr. Mann. “If you’re going to
party, do it safely. And if you use a bumper
or bullet, use it just for yourself.”
Dr. Mann welcomes input from those who have
information or statistics on this behavior. He also
welcomes mail at drmann11@aol.com or
MedEvent, 601 Caduceus, Euless, TX 76053.
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