(no subject)
I must say I was right about Sacramento.
It started with "just lunch" where the waitresses cussed a lot and gave us us free beers and shots at 2pm.
The boyscout and his bf were delicious.
Met a guy named Stone! For work he's finding the cure for cancer! He was my cure for lonelyness! Simply amazing!
This is tomorrow:
The Exotic Erotic
Wild and weird, exotic and erotic, beauty and the beast. October in San Francisco is party time and madness. Photojournalist Jeremy Jowell looks into the Halloween Haze...
Three Red Indians and a white virgin bride appear from nowhere as my eyes become accustomed to the madness. All around me, outrageous nudity and obscene costumes clash in a sea of colour and cabaret. Black beauties in bondage brush past while butch beasts leer and flaunt their inflatable breasts.
The Californian craziness looms large through the Halloween haze.
Gyrating bodies swing into action as the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence belt out their tones of depravity. A writhing almost-naked couple next to me are locked in a tongue-twisting embrace.
San Francisco's 17th Exotic Erotic Halloween Ball has begun.
Madonna has described it as "a fantasy affair, come if you dare." Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones simply says "it's a wild event." Whatever way you look at it, the Exotic Erotic is the greatest fancy dress ball in the world. Last year's party, attended by over 15 000 San Franciscans dressed in their bizarre best, was rumoured to be a tamer version of previous celebrations. If so, then one can only imagine the decadence of days gone by.
My first Exotic Erotic experience was back in 1990 where a relatively unknown Chris Isaak took centre stage alongside the West Coast weirdos. I was part of a party the likes of which strait-laced South Africa would never dare to hold. Walking around open-mouthed, I was totally blown away by the daring debauchery and sheer indulgence of it all.
Fast forward six years and I'm back in Earthquake Country, gearing up for another night of madness. I've coaxed a reluctant yet curious friend to join me and we begin pounding the pavements of Haight-Ashbury, searching for something appropriate to wear.
Halloween hype is everywhere. Frankenstein masks and scary pumpkins stare out from shop windows and the costume shops are overflowing. Most of the outfits have already been rented, and I don't feel like spending $50 for a witches hat, so we wander down Haight, searching for something to bring on the buzz.
Pipe Dreams, a hippies haven and hangout of the 60's wanna-be's, seems the spot. "A lot of people have been buying this herbal ecstasy," purrs the sultry blond, leaning over the glass counter full of hash pipes and drug paraphernalia. "Why not give it a try .. for that Halloween high."
So armed with our little bottle, and intent on finding something outrageous to wear, we speed off to raid a friend's cupboard. Our choices are severely limited. Pantihose perhaps. Maybe a Mexican dress. Or just stark naked. We wimp out and settle on two pairs of green doctor scrubs.
Pills are popped and we're off, downtown to the Concourse Exhibition Center. Parking's a nightmare but eventually we find a space and follow the crowds in the direction of the laser beams and spotlights.
Hopelessly underdressed, we enter the hall of insanity and instantly lose each other in the multitude. Haight Street's herbal help isn't working, but with the visions of madness in front of me, perhaps it's just as well.
Male nuns mingle with bizarre transvestite types. A nerd dragging a blow-up doll by the hair drifts aimlessly through the throbbing masses. Witches and goblins and eight foot Draculas dance in the green laser light while Adam and Eve waltz by wearing nothing but leaves.
Dressed in my pathetic operating outfit, I feel just slightly out of place.
Red devils on the rampage rush through the madding crowd. In a corner, a masked man wearing nothing but a pumpkin on the end of his penis adopts the statue stance.
The Halloween spirit catches fire and I join the crowd of photographers shooting the heavenly bodies who eagerly thrust out their breasts and bums for the lens. I make my way to the dance floor where TV cameras follow the bare bodies on stage. The $5000 costume contest begins in the midst of erotic dancing and impromptu simulated sex scenes. In a corner, a multicoloured man begins masturbating.
Visit San Francisco in October and it's impossible not to get caught up in the spirit of Halloween. Last year, the Bay Area celebrated with ten days of trick or treat excess - everything from pumpkin dinners to a Satanic exhibition. The Halloween events list in the San Francisco Bay Guardian of October 23, 1996 promised something for everybody.
For those with a taste for the macabre, Art Hell offered an exhibition of altars and other ritual objects to celebrate the Satanic cycles of life and death. Film freaks were also well catered for. Pacific Film Archive presented a double bill - 'The Boy With Green Hair' and 'The Hills Have Eyes'. Everyone arriving with green hair was guaranteed free entry. Not to be outdone, the Hell-O-Rama Halloween Downtown Cinematheque was screening a triple dose of 70's sleaze horror - 'Boarding House', 'Bloodthirsty Butchers'and 'Blood Freak'. San Francisco being the city it is, the gay community was undoubtedly out in force for a weekend of Halloween mayhem at Club Universe and Pleasuredome, two of the biggest gay dance clubs in town.
Other unusual events listed were the Hookers Ball, the Halloweed Party for Medical Marijuana and Pets In Drag, a costume contest for dogs and cats featuring music, a fashion show and Halloween treats.
But the show I'm sorry I missed was the Nightclub of the Living Dead. The Metropolitan Community Church's music program was planning to channel the spirits of dead rock stars and coax them to perform on stage. Apparently the previous year, Sid Vicious and Karen Carpenter arose from the grave to perform a duet together.
The crowning glory in San Francisco's Halloween season is trick or treat night itself when the city sets out for the biggest street party in California. In previous years, the venue for the mother of all parties has been the Castro, a predominantly gay area and off-beat party centre of San Francisco. But repeated complaints of violence and congestion in the Castro's crowded streets have moved the party to the Civic Center where 100 000 San Franciscans can safely be accomodated.
It's almost 10pm when I get off the underground and follow the excited hordes to the Civic where several blocks of the city have been closed off.
Everyone's trying to find the quickest entry point but there are mounting
queues at every gate.
Inside, it's a melting pot of people. Young and old, black and white, gay and straight. Small children in clown costumes brush shoulders with drag queens and skeleton ghouls. Laser beams light up the sky.
"We've got 75 000 people here right now and there'll be 100 000 by later tonight," booms mayor Willie Brown over the PA system. "On Halloween, there just is no place like San-Fran-Cisco!" wails Willie with pride.
The San Francisco night revels in its gay glory. Cameras click as a lesbian addresses the cheering crowd on the joys of girl-on-girl sex. A group of Condom Mirandas, drag queens wonderfully done up in flashy sequined frocks and coloured feathers, noisily hand out their Durex delights.
I'm feeling a little too straight for the occasion so when I smell the sweet aroma of a burning joint, I make a beeline for its owner. The puffing werewolf and muscle-bound bikers obligingly pass it my way and four tokes later, I'm considering swapping clothes with a Condom Miranda.
What seems like hours later, I stumble across yet another bizarre scene. A Channel 5 television presenter, dressed in blue blazer and striped tie, is attempting a live news broadcast but is drowned out and smothered in kisses by a troupe of Priscilla Queens. Am I really seeing this? Or was it just very strong dope that I smoked?
It's time for the costume contest and all attention is now centre stage. Overhead, a giant spinning silver ball sends rays of coloured light dancing over the swaying crowd. A weird cast of Elvises slowly slink up with a group of effeminate Father Christmas's and an assortment of sex fiends.
"San Francisco is a very sick and twisted place," shrieks the emcee with delight, as a giant spurting penis and Whore Woman whoop it up on stage. The eventual winners are a group of lavish gay pygmies.
After hours of depravity, the din begins to diminish. But the madness is not yet over. Going home, I board the Ocean Beach bus which turns into a Halloween ride from Hell.
People are crammed in tight, blocking the doors, fighting for breathing space. Eyeball to eyeball, I squeeze in between wrinkled hunchbacks and luminous skeletons. Then, as we bump and screech along the San Francisco streets, a stoned female voice from the back of the bus begins to describe in vulgar detail what she likes doing to her girlfriend.
The bus breaks into laughter. Her language gets more explicit. And the red-nosed devil pressed against my face just grins and winks knowingly.
It started with "just lunch" where the waitresses cussed a lot and gave us us free beers and shots at 2pm.
The boyscout and his bf were delicious.
Met a guy named Stone! For work he's finding the cure for cancer! He was my cure for lonelyness! Simply amazing!
This is tomorrow:
The Exotic Erotic
Wild and weird, exotic and erotic, beauty and the beast. October in San Francisco is party time and madness. Photojournalist Jeremy Jowell looks into the Halloween Haze...
Three Red Indians and a white virgin bride appear from nowhere as my eyes become accustomed to the madness. All around me, outrageous nudity and obscene costumes clash in a sea of colour and cabaret. Black beauties in bondage brush past while butch beasts leer and flaunt their inflatable breasts.
The Californian craziness looms large through the Halloween haze.
Gyrating bodies swing into action as the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence belt out their tones of depravity. A writhing almost-naked couple next to me are locked in a tongue-twisting embrace.
San Francisco's 17th Exotic Erotic Halloween Ball has begun.
Madonna has described it as "a fantasy affair, come if you dare." Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones simply says "it's a wild event." Whatever way you look at it, the Exotic Erotic is the greatest fancy dress ball in the world. Last year's party, attended by over 15 000 San Franciscans dressed in their bizarre best, was rumoured to be a tamer version of previous celebrations. If so, then one can only imagine the decadence of days gone by.
My first Exotic Erotic experience was back in 1990 where a relatively unknown Chris Isaak took centre stage alongside the West Coast weirdos. I was part of a party the likes of which strait-laced South Africa would never dare to hold. Walking around open-mouthed, I was totally blown away by the daring debauchery and sheer indulgence of it all.
Fast forward six years and I'm back in Earthquake Country, gearing up for another night of madness. I've coaxed a reluctant yet curious friend to join me and we begin pounding the pavements of Haight-Ashbury, searching for something appropriate to wear.
Halloween hype is everywhere. Frankenstein masks and scary pumpkins stare out from shop windows and the costume shops are overflowing. Most of the outfits have already been rented, and I don't feel like spending $50 for a witches hat, so we wander down Haight, searching for something to bring on the buzz.
Pipe Dreams, a hippies haven and hangout of the 60's wanna-be's, seems the spot. "A lot of people have been buying this herbal ecstasy," purrs the sultry blond, leaning over the glass counter full of hash pipes and drug paraphernalia. "Why not give it a try .. for that Halloween high."
So armed with our little bottle, and intent on finding something outrageous to wear, we speed off to raid a friend's cupboard. Our choices are severely limited. Pantihose perhaps. Maybe a Mexican dress. Or just stark naked. We wimp out and settle on two pairs of green doctor scrubs.
Pills are popped and we're off, downtown to the Concourse Exhibition Center. Parking's a nightmare but eventually we find a space and follow the crowds in the direction of the laser beams and spotlights.
Hopelessly underdressed, we enter the hall of insanity and instantly lose each other in the multitude. Haight Street's herbal help isn't working, but with the visions of madness in front of me, perhaps it's just as well.
Male nuns mingle with bizarre transvestite types. A nerd dragging a blow-up doll by the hair drifts aimlessly through the throbbing masses. Witches and goblins and eight foot Draculas dance in the green laser light while Adam and Eve waltz by wearing nothing but leaves.
Dressed in my pathetic operating outfit, I feel just slightly out of place.
Red devils on the rampage rush through the madding crowd. In a corner, a masked man wearing nothing but a pumpkin on the end of his penis adopts the statue stance.
The Halloween spirit catches fire and I join the crowd of photographers shooting the heavenly bodies who eagerly thrust out their breasts and bums for the lens. I make my way to the dance floor where TV cameras follow the bare bodies on stage. The $5000 costume contest begins in the midst of erotic dancing and impromptu simulated sex scenes. In a corner, a multicoloured man begins masturbating.
Visit San Francisco in October and it's impossible not to get caught up in the spirit of Halloween. Last year, the Bay Area celebrated with ten days of trick or treat excess - everything from pumpkin dinners to a Satanic exhibition. The Halloween events list in the San Francisco Bay Guardian of October 23, 1996 promised something for everybody.
For those with a taste for the macabre, Art Hell offered an exhibition of altars and other ritual objects to celebrate the Satanic cycles of life and death. Film freaks were also well catered for. Pacific Film Archive presented a double bill - 'The Boy With Green Hair' and 'The Hills Have Eyes'. Everyone arriving with green hair was guaranteed free entry. Not to be outdone, the Hell-O-Rama Halloween Downtown Cinematheque was screening a triple dose of 70's sleaze horror - 'Boarding House', 'Bloodthirsty Butchers'and 'Blood Freak'. San Francisco being the city it is, the gay community was undoubtedly out in force for a weekend of Halloween mayhem at Club Universe and Pleasuredome, two of the biggest gay dance clubs in town.
Other unusual events listed were the Hookers Ball, the Halloweed Party for Medical Marijuana and Pets In Drag, a costume contest for dogs and cats featuring music, a fashion show and Halloween treats.
But the show I'm sorry I missed was the Nightclub of the Living Dead. The Metropolitan Community Church's music program was planning to channel the spirits of dead rock stars and coax them to perform on stage. Apparently the previous year, Sid Vicious and Karen Carpenter arose from the grave to perform a duet together.
The crowning glory in San Francisco's Halloween season is trick or treat night itself when the city sets out for the biggest street party in California. In previous years, the venue for the mother of all parties has been the Castro, a predominantly gay area and off-beat party centre of San Francisco. But repeated complaints of violence and congestion in the Castro's crowded streets have moved the party to the Civic Center where 100 000 San Franciscans can safely be accomodated.
It's almost 10pm when I get off the underground and follow the excited hordes to the Civic where several blocks of the city have been closed off.
Everyone's trying to find the quickest entry point but there are mounting
queues at every gate.
Inside, it's a melting pot of people. Young and old, black and white, gay and straight. Small children in clown costumes brush shoulders with drag queens and skeleton ghouls. Laser beams light up the sky.
"We've got 75 000 people here right now and there'll be 100 000 by later tonight," booms mayor Willie Brown over the PA system. "On Halloween, there just is no place like San-Fran-Cisco!" wails Willie with pride.
The San Francisco night revels in its gay glory. Cameras click as a lesbian addresses the cheering crowd on the joys of girl-on-girl sex. A group of Condom Mirandas, drag queens wonderfully done up in flashy sequined frocks and coloured feathers, noisily hand out their Durex delights.
I'm feeling a little too straight for the occasion so when I smell the sweet aroma of a burning joint, I make a beeline for its owner. The puffing werewolf and muscle-bound bikers obligingly pass it my way and four tokes later, I'm considering swapping clothes with a Condom Miranda.
What seems like hours later, I stumble across yet another bizarre scene. A Channel 5 television presenter, dressed in blue blazer and striped tie, is attempting a live news broadcast but is drowned out and smothered in kisses by a troupe of Priscilla Queens. Am I really seeing this? Or was it just very strong dope that I smoked?
It's time for the costume contest and all attention is now centre stage. Overhead, a giant spinning silver ball sends rays of coloured light dancing over the swaying crowd. A weird cast of Elvises slowly slink up with a group of effeminate Father Christmas's and an assortment of sex fiends.
"San Francisco is a very sick and twisted place," shrieks the emcee with delight, as a giant spurting penis and Whore Woman whoop it up on stage. The eventual winners are a group of lavish gay pygmies.
After hours of depravity, the din begins to diminish. But the madness is not yet over. Going home, I board the Ocean Beach bus which turns into a Halloween ride from Hell.
People are crammed in tight, blocking the doors, fighting for breathing space. Eyeball to eyeball, I squeeze in between wrinkled hunchbacks and luminous skeletons. Then, as we bump and screech along the San Francisco streets, a stoned female voice from the back of the bus begins to describe in vulgar detail what she likes doing to her girlfriend.
The bus breaks into laughter. Her language gets more explicit. And the red-nosed devil pressed against my face just grins and winks knowingly.