Jeff Kunerth of the Orlando Sentinel reports that a changing gay culture is moving beyond the iconic gay bar and gay nightclub. He suggests that gay bars are slowly but surely disappearing around the country as increased visibility and acceptance spells the end of what was once a secret and fringe world.

He wonders if the recent closing of four of Orlando's oldest gay bars, Full Moon, Faces, Lava and Southern Nights signals the end of an era in which bars served as the hub of social life in the gay community. "They offered sanctuary, anonymity and intimacy in a world that was largely hostile toward gays and lesbians."

No city is more famous for its gay bars than New York--and not just because of Stonewall. The first thing most gay tourists shriek when they arrive in the Big Lavender Apple? "Show me the bars!" As a New Yorker, I'm usually happy to hear this because it gives me an excuse to do some bar hopping--something I rarely do. When I need a fix of community, I can go just about anywhere in Manhattan: restaurants, parks, dog runs, bookstores, shopping sprees, theaters, museums, art galleries, hardware stores, ATM lines, elevators and crowds of smokers in front of most office buildings.

On August 19,1990, Leonard Bernstein conducted his last performance. I was there. I had to be; my first full-blown gay crush was nearing the end of his career (more quickly than anyone realized on that day). Just two months later he would be buried in Brooklyn at the age of 72. Bernstein was also my first big gay role model: gay, Jewish, a New Yorker, enormously successful, famously influential and a passionate hunk.

I had fallen for Lenny a quarter century earlier.

n 1965, Lincoln Center recognized 100 New York City high school students for excellence in the performing arts. I was among the 100. You had to be nominated by the faculty of your school and then judged by Lincoln Center's Board of Directors. Honorees had to demonstrate excellence in two or more areas; in my case it was drama, set design and writing. I was also named "Most Sophisticated" by my senior class. And then there was the summer of 1962 when I studied Shakespearean acting at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton, New Jersey. I was the best 14-year-old Prospero my grandmother had ever seen.

All of that and no one thought I was gay-- except for Leonard Bernstein. Some 40 years later, as an openly gay man, I would return to Lincoln Center to pay tribute to the maestro with some help from my friend Gabe.

More Lincoln Center, more Lenny and much more of Gabe after the break...

I know this. So why can't I stop buying Evian? Virtually every study conducted over the past few years has demonstrated that America's drinking water is as good if not better than almost all bottled waters. Furthermore, we now know that the plastic bottles have been a global nightmare for the environment. Buying and drinking bottled water is anti-green, stupid and fiscally irresponsible. And yet I just can't stop myself, I run my fingers up and down the curves of that bottle and I shiver. I wrap my quivering lips around it's girth and dream of irresistible pleasures. Oh, Evian, I love you so. If only I understood why...

I'm really sorry I'm in such a teen mood today, but hearing Miss South Carolina Teen USA 2007 explain why one-fifth of Americans can't locate the U.S. on a world map really does scare the glitter-laden crap out of me.

From Miss South Carolina on 'Miss Teen USA 2007'



Thanks to QueerSighted Super-Reader Shayne for the tip.

There's only one thing I like more than a lesbian: a group of lesbians. Wait, scratch that. A group of British lesbians! Like, duuuh.

Don't these ladies look like they're having a great time?


I recognize one of my readers, "Bullet" in that clip. You think they'd let me join their crew? If I'm going to join forces with them, I feel like I should stand out (you know, more than by being black, not wearing make-up, being the size of two of them put together, and being super American). What if I wear those old school roller skates all the time like Tutti used to do on Facts of Life? I could be the one that alway's blows huge bubbles with my gum and wears giant headphones all the time. I'd be like that cat on Heathcliff. We could go around and 'terrify the neighborhoods'. It'd be glorious!

I think the girls are in their late teens and early 20s. I'll find out for sure once I get high-fived in to the group, and I'll be sure to show you an updated version of the hijinks. See more on their youtube page.

If a New Yorker lacks an important Subway story, he or she is not a New Yorker, not by a long shot. The Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA) is not just an integral part of New York City, it is one of the core defining factors of who we are. And while the MTA includes buses and trains, it is the trains that constitute the cardiovascular system of this strange and unique metropolis. And like the human cardiovascular system it is vital to the city's survival, causes us tremendous grief when occluded and gives us the energy and strength to do what we do to make New York what it is.

Even Sigmund Freud would admit that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and sometimes a train is just a train, but sometimes a train is the New York City Subway.

And when it's August, hotter than hell and the men are dripping in sweat, cotton clinging to muscle, a train is clearly something else.

The New York City Subway system is likely one of the most under-rated or at least rarely discussed cruising areas in the urban world. Consider the scenario: close quarters, powerful human scent, "accidental" bumping and rubbing and depending on the time of day, at least one player in this hormonal waltz is on his way to a convenient place of assignation.

I love my straight girlfriends. I couldn't live without them. But apparently some gay men have a few complaints about this tried and true bond between gay guy - straight woman.

This little bitchfest comes to you from Craigslist LA. Do you identify with any of it, or did this guy's mom drop him on his head when he was little?

A Memo to Straight Women Seeking A Gay Male Friend

Hi there. I am a gay man living in Los Angeles. Let me just say that I have many women friends. And I applaud the open-minded, progressive attitudes most straight women seem to have nowadays.

However, I have noticed that we've crossed over into a place where some women are just a little too comfortable with homosexuality. "Too much tolerance" you say? I'll explain.

Honestly, I am flattered when a woman says something along the lines of "you're cute. Too bad you're not straight." That's nice to hear. I'm not going into some PC tirade over a compliment. You know what though? I only need to hear it once. My friend's friend says it every time I see her. She does the rubbing my upper back back, hands in my hair shit. And you know what I want to say? "LISTEN. My being gay isn't the only reason it would never happen." Like, back the f**k up. And she's also volunteered to be my beard at events. "Great, we'll time travel to the 1950s when people in LA last did that." [More after the jump...]

There's nothing like hopping online and checking out what my fellow QueerSighters have to say...about the gay...each day. (Yeah I'm a poet. What.) I love all of the posts, and I especially relate to the only other lezzy that writes for the site right now, Renee Gannon. We kick it on AIM all the time, and have even toasted to hot women in person a time or 12. So I highly respect her opinions and dig her writing style. Love her hair. Hope she wins.

But daaahling, I just had to respond to your latest post about the GIRLTRASH! web series from Ourchart.com. I've read Renee's points and understand where she's coming from, but I've got to get all Ebert & Roeper on your a$$es, and offer my rebuttal.

I don't think we're dealing with an Oscar-caliber work of art here, but this is some highly entertaining stuff. Even if you're not into the storyline or cinematography style or what have you (which I am), it's one more chance for lesbians and friends of, to all gather on screen and be hot together. Hot women who are also great actresses, saying and doing crazy things for a few minutes each week? What's wrong with that? If lovin' them is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

You can't see me right now, but I have one of those laser pointers and a dry-erase board all set up in my apartment, with an explanation of how this works: Hot chicks + lesbian fiction + funny situations x the square root of boobs over thigh = good times.

In her post, Renee said, "Now if you're into the whole dark and tortured crime-drama that's laced with bad one-liners, than you would probably be interested in the seven 3-minute-long webisodes that have been released so far."

And to that I say, "Yes. Yes I am. And yes. Yes I have been."

You know I get the whole anti-violence thing. I'm completely anti-violence when its happening in real life. Someone extremely close to me was very recently the victim of a violent act, so I understand where Renee's coming from. But this is entertainment. Who here hasn't watched a "Law & Order" marathon? There's more violence in the opening scene of SVU than in all 20 mins so far of GIRLTRASH! But do we shun Mariska Hargitay? Noooo. And why's that? Cause

"Scare Tactics" was a show on the SciFi network that worked much like candid camera, only it aimed to scare the bejesus out of ordinary people using pranks inspired by science-fiction and horror films. I stumbled across this clip while trolling YouTube where Eric decides to set up his animal-rights activist friend, Bryan, on the show to give him the scaring of his life (and boy does he get scared).

I have to give props to Bryan for sticking around until the end; and despite screaming like a girl on several occasions, you and I will both agree that most people (including myself) would have high-tailed it out of there faster than you can say 'midget monkey'. Check out the clip and tell me you wouldn't have peed your pants if you were this guy.

At the risk of stating the obvious, homosexuality manifests in every human population and culture. Of course, most history has been documented by the heterosexual male majority so the role of women, gays and minorities are usually ignored. But that doesn't change the fact that the diversity of gay culture around the globe is as diverse as human culture today and throughout history. How sad that the rich and fascinating history of queers in so many cultures is mostly undocumented, repressed and pretty much ignored in these United States.

On a quest for some background information on a totally unrelated topic, Google, as often happens, landed me in a surprising place: the world of Turkish male belly dancing.

In February 2000, the Associated Press reported that the Turkish police rescued a 19-year-old man whose father had chained him to a bed for three days after discovering that his son was performing as a belly dancer.

Today, it is all the rage in Istanbul for nightclubs to feature young, handsome male belly dancers. They are called rakkas from the word raks, which means dance. They dress in sparkling costumes and perform nearly every night of the week.

But this is not at all the result of liberalization. It's actually a revival of an ancient Turkish tradition. The homophobic behavior of the above-mentioned father was very Western and contemporary, not Turkish at all.

An interesting debate is underway in the lofty ivory towers of academia. A writer for the The Chronicle of Higher Education--a publication I know you all rush to read on a regular basis-- ponders the credibility and validity of Korean European Medievalists and straight queer studies buffs.

I've never much thought about this issue before, but now that I am I realize that it raises some very challenging questions about bigotry, prejudice and irrational chauvinism.

Should what you study or teach be dictated by what you are? The Chronicle reports that in 2007, a scholar's race, heritage, gender, or sexual orientation is often the key to his or her academic interests and currency in academia. But a growing debate is being fueled by academics whose curiosity has wandered outside of their in-groups and are looked upon as inadequate or misguided. Can/should a man teach women's studies?

"The Asian man in Renaissance studies is cause for surprise," writes the author. "The white woman looking at African American folk art is met with arched eyebrows. And a black historical musicologist gripes about all the people who assume she studies jazz.."

Few people--straight or gay-- associate New York gay culture and history with neighborhoods other than Greenwich Village or Chelsea. The odd thing about this is that aside from the Stonewall Riots and the Christopher Street Pier, the East Village likely boasts more influential and relevant gay history packed into its narrow streets and avenues than the West Village and Chelsea combined.

Among other things, the East Village nurtured such gay artists as Jean-Michel Basquiat, Andy Warhol, Keith Haring and Robert Mapplethorpe. The urban gay party was born in the East Village in a little place called The Saint. New York's gay sexual revolution, a sexual revolution that changed gay culture forever spilled out of Tompkins Square Park and off Avenue A and Saint Marks Place long before Stonewall. And what was undeniably the most famous and influential drag club in American gay history was "hidden" in the basement of an old tenement at no. 82 East 4th Street, long before Lady Bunny was even a twinkle in her the eye of the sales clerk at the Lane Bryant Plus-Sized Lady's department.

If you haven't been glued to your TV every Wednesday and Thursday watching "So You Think You Can Dance," I'm going to need for you to turn in your *gay card* and leave the building immediately. The show truly is the gayest thing on TV this summer ("My Life On The D-List" is a very close second).

Every week as I watch Cat Deeley slink across the stage, I ask myself if it's a sin to be rewinding TIVO this much, and if perhaps I shouldn't have played that part where she bit her lip in slow motion. Four times. I wonder why all of my dream girls are named Kat/Cat. You think it has something to do with p*ssy, perhaps? Hmmm...

I'm also absolutely blown away by the choreography of Mia Michaels. I sure do hope she bats for our team (my *dar* goes off like a pinball machine whenever she's on screen) cause her talent and imagination are a gift. And...she's hot.

In my opinion, she delivers the most exciting and touching choreography of each season.

Lacey & Kameron - Current Season

Heidi & Travis - Season 2


Blake & Destini - Season 1

Like many Manhattan neighborhoods, Hell's Kitchen has gone through astonishing changes over the course of it's160-year-plus history, beginning as one of the world's most squalid and violent slums and ending up as a fully gentrified and very gay--perhaps Manhattan's gayest--gayborhood of the moment.

Hell's Kitchen was born in the mid-19th Century as Irish immigrants poured by the thousands off the boats along the west side docks, erecting shanty towns on the muddy mid-Manhattan island shores of the Hudson River. You can still find several Irish pubs along 11th Avenue (the original waterfront) dating back to that period--and after a century, the 2-4-1 whiskey nights are still not to be missed. After your fourth or fifth Glenmorangie, everyone is gay. (My taste runs to single malt Scotch rather than Irish whiskey.)

My first trip to Europe was during the summer of 1968 and my first trip to a European public toilet was in Paris during the first week of August of that year. I was appalled, embarrassed and confused. Situated on a main boulevard with an elaborate Art Nouveau entrance the facility signage simply noted that this was a toilettes The toilettes was entered via a grand staircase with secondary signs directing hommes to the gauche and femmes to the droite. A charming old lady in a white frock sat at a table collecting change and dispensing towels. The private stalls were communal but the on the Hommes side, an homme could access a row of huge Art Nouveau porcelain urinals; however, this row of urinals was in full view of the entire facility and men and women would enter stalls as they became available regardless of gauche or droite. As I traveled through Europe, it became increasingly clear to me that the rigid separation of sexes on every imaginable level was a very American habit. Women breast fed their babies on buses and in public parks. Families changed their clothes in full view on beaches and in many situations topless females were as ordinary and as inconsequential as topless males.

It wasn't until some two decades later in a Manhattan gay club that I once again discovered an open mixing of assorted genders in the public toilettes. In America it was a queer thing to do, but it reminded me of my first trip to Paris and was, therefore, both liberating and nostalgic.