Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Our 5-Year Anniversary, The Music, VISCERA – Post #59

Chew your meat for you
Pass it back and forth
In a passionate kiss
From my mouth to yours
Sloppy lips to lips
You’re my vitamins
I’m like you

“Drain You,” Cobain ‘91

Wednesday, 5/28/14 4:31 PM
At home

Thanks to you guys, the parties have been awesome and very well attended...Unless you think 30 guys at a party isn’t enough.  Some guys don’t!

But most of you do.  Thank you for your support.


Five years.  755 parties.  Three different spaces.

From the moment I first looked through the window of the Perry Street, West Village space and thought it was big enough to host parties (barely), through the East Village, ‘til today, in North Chelsea, I have seen very many things.    I never looked ahead to a five-year run, but if I actually had, I don’t think I’d have come this far.  But like climbing a mountain or running a marathon, I imagine it’s better to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, rather than on how massively far away the mark really is.

Each space has certainly had its challenges. 

Perry Street was the first space, so I never even knew if I could successfully host one party, let alone 253.  It was one so-so sized room, with a very small room (the size of a mattress), in the back.  Most of the residents in this walk-up brownstone were very invested in their building, some having spent decades there and were understandably concerned about any new tenants. 

One of them, Joan, upon meeting me as I was moving in, said, “Well you look respectable.”  I believe I am.  She was definitely the nosy type, and most certainly walked into the building alongside my guests, on numerous occasions; as far as I know, she never complained to anyone.  The same goes for all the other tenants there.

Then there was Ed, the agent for the building, who was nosy because that was his job.  I used to refer to him as “Mr. Roper,” a nod to the curious landlord on “Three’s Company.”  He didn’t notice that I’d been having so many guests coming over, for about the first two or three months.  I was still only having one party, per week, at that point.  During one party, a couple of guests told me that a guy was standing on the building’s inside stairs, suspiciously looking at them as they were being let in to the apartment.  They described Ed.  Next day, I went looking for him around the neighborhood and, when I did, I told him I was allowed to have a sex life.

He never bothered me again. 

And we never bothered him.  I’m fairly certain that he, and the owners, didn’t want to fuck with the gay community.

Lesson learned.

The second space was on East 7th Street, in the East Village.  I don’t exactly regret moving there, but it wasn’t as good as Perry, and definitely not as good as here. 

First of all, it was small.  It was meant for two college students to live in two tiny bedrooms.  I wanted to try the East Village, and this apartment had an outdoor space, which I was able to cover up for privacy.  It was nice for me, my two kitties, and my guests.  But the place really was small.  The changing area was like a postage stamp.  Guys still returned, though, enough to run the parties there for two years.

The residents in that building were college kids.  Every one of them.  One challenge this posed was that they would throw garbage (mostly lit cigarettes, beer cans, and chewing gum) off their fire escapes and on to my tarp. 

Incidentally, that tarp also survived two hurricanes and one massive snow storm.

I also tend to doubt that, had these kids’ parents known that there were gay sex parties being held there, often and regularly, they might have...well...resisted a bit.  Never a peep.  In fact, in those two years, there were three different sets of residents in the apartment directly across the rather narrow hallway.

Then there was Fatty McTatty (A.K.A. “The Sloth”).  I wrote about him, at length, 2 ½ years ago, which was more than enough space to dedicate to such a lowlife.  He succeeded in getting your parties shut down for a little bit, but we came back even stronger.  I still have guys asking me about him, his identity, presumably because they want to make his life difficult.

I’m forever incredulous at how deeply some of you guys feel about me, what I do.  I don’t have much of a family, anymore, so just knowing I have this kind of support is so awesome.

When I do stop the parties, I may out Miss McTatty on this blog.  I’ve been keeping tabs on him, ever since.

There have been challenges here, too.  A few big ones.  But, as I do not wish to potentially make them worse, I shall not breath life into them by blogging about them. 

But I definitely will, if I definitely must.  I’ve spent a lot of time developing this blog – and my reputation – and the power that it affords me is remarkable.  [Even though I’ve never actually used it.]

Every remotely interested and pertinent institution knows about my parties.  Anything less would be a dereliction of their duties. 

Remember our marching slogan: “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!”  Fact is, gay men have sex, and people have finally gotten used to it.


One of the most prominent aspects of my parties has always been the music.  I started with not enough songs to cover the four/five hours of a party.  Now, I have five days’ worth.

In the beginning, I was concerned mostly with if a song were sexy or not, whether guys might laugh or scoff at a song that may not be sexy.  These days, I’ll play those songs, but not ones that have a message that might be counter-intuitive to the party atmosphere.  One example of that is “We Found Love (in a Place Like This),” by Calvin Harris and Rhianna.  It’s a good song, but the idea that it demeans the party by saying, “In a place like this,” keeps me from playing it.  There are a fair amount of songs with messages that aren’t exactly appropriate for a fun party vibe, like ones which could be perceived as dealing with AIDS (TLC’s “Waterfall,” Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love,” Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust”).

I know that hosting orgies doesn’t make me an artist, but I do follow the true artist’s credo, which is to do what feels most right, and merely hope that enough people get it, whereby I can continue to do it.  This is why I play a lot of the music that I do: I like it!  Hopefully, my guests do, too. 

Having said that, I do play a very large and diverse set of songs.  It ranges from Nirvana to Madonna, Stanley Clarke to Amy Winehouse, Velvet Underground to A-Ha.  A set of hard rock songs will be followed up by a set of dance or ethereal or mellow; it depends on where the party is flowing.  If you’re not really digging what’s playing, you can rest assured that the type of music will change, and hopefully to one you do like.

I think I get more compliments on the music than I do on the space, the guys, my hosting...which thankfully are all plentiful, too.

Some of the sexiest songs are:

Jimi Hendrix’ “Voodoo Child (Slight Return).”  This one really captures the powerful feel of fucking. Hendrix’ music, in general, is super sexy. 

Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir.”  The “otherworldliness” of great sex.

The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.”  The beautiful tension of anonymous sex in a group setting.

U2’s version of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day.”  Goosebumps.

Madonna’s “Erotica” is a very obvious one, but so very hot.

All of which brings me to a party concept I’ve had for some time, but have never tried: VÏSCERA, as in a “visceral response” to stimuli.  I may only try it, once, but I’ve got to try it. 

This party will be all hard rock.  There will be Nirvana (of course), Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, old Rush, Pearl Jam, heavy Rolling Stones and Beatles, anything I’ve got that’ll shake your guts.  There must be some softer sets, to be juxtaposed against the really heavy shit, but even those will merely be the mellower songs from these same bands. 

I used to do a lot of concept parties in 2009/2010, some getting big turnouts, but I don’t know what this one will be like.  If this appeals to you (I know I’m not the only one!), please come and have a great time with it. 

But if you prefer Lady Gaga to Nine Inch Nails, this may not be your party.

Life is more fun, and rewarding, when chances are taken.  Shit, I’ve been doing it for five years!  And without regret.


I’m sending a special Thank You to all the guys who wrote to the adam4adam website.  With your help, my party ads have, indeed, been let back on the site.  My list has very many great guys from a4a, and now we get to increase that number.  A lot.

Thanks, guys.  Thanks for realizing that I stand for much more than cheap sex, and for actually getting me. 

The Örgy Guy

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