Wednesday is the new black

I am about to head out into the weekend and three days filled with dance workshops, parties, and cowboys who know how to move.

But before I run off, I just wanted to share a few bits from Wednesday night.

Kevin and I went to the San Francisco Independent Filmmaker's Black Party/benefit at Space 550. Now while the crowd was in numbers just a fraaction of what we expected, we had a great time. The $30 tickets were cheap compared to the quantity of sponsored/free Crown and Smirnoff we enjoyed. And of course the highlights of the evening were screenings of Mary Guzman's short film "Do the Math" and the other performances.

The DJ was great, but with relatively few people compared to the vast space, no one really got grooving on the dance floor. He did have the new Dixie Chicks' CD, and so after some prompting by Mary he played a fast waltz and her cowboy friends were quickly coupled up on the dance floor and were billed as additional entertainment.

Another highlight of the evening was meeting cinematographer Morgan Schmidt, an exceptionally cool (and exceptionally hot) guy who earned more cool points by being completely unaffected by my obvious affections. We had enough shared interests (film, digial filming, etc) and personality traits to converse easily. He's a handsome good guy I hope to hook up with Shilpa. They may not be a perfect bf/gf match, but I think they would really enjoy each others company for a while (if only for a little recreation).

Regardless, with his charm, wit, talent, smarts, and ability to enjoy the odd situation; he's certainly a keeper for the social circle. I am interested to see how he might hold court at a Club Jackson do.

Although I am pretty much over the cold, Kevin's was in full swing and he had a whole Kathleen Turner voice thing working for him. We also talked about Shilpa, mostly because we planned to pimp her out to Morgan the organ.

On the way home, I talked to Shilpa on the mobile and she convinced me to join her and Ruby briefly at the Starlight Room, which is a nightmare to be retold later. Ultimately, against my will as I was still fighting the cold, was exhasuted, and had a big day Thursday, we ended up at Badlands. The girls wanted an escort to go to the Castro to celebrate National Coming Out Day. I left them there around 1:30 and they were still going strong.

Best lines (remembered) of the evening:

Wilson: "My God. I was throwing myself at him like I was a lawn dart."
Kevin: "Illegal in 30 states..."
Wilson: "Just like me."

Kevin: "Well, she might be reaching her expiration date."
Wilson: "No. She's just about to 'go bad'."
[much later, on a similar topic]
Kevin: "Well, there's a point where you go bad, and then there's going sour."
Wilson: "Or in my case, bitter."

Kevin: "She needs to take care of things. Battery operated or manual."
Wilson: "Or, preferably, Manuel."

.......................................
This morning, Shilpa was telling Amy Day and me what happened at Badlands after I left her and Ruby on the dance floor:

"I thought he was gay so I let him molest me."

Apparently he then got pretty agressive, said he was straight, and got too intimate with her business and she had to fight him off. Luckily, a tall dark and fagsome man pulled him off of her and became her guardian/dance partner for the remainder of the evening. Clearly, those horny straight boys can be devious when they want some lovin. Word has gotten out that gay men get all the girl play.

Posers.