No, no, it's puerto rican roasted pork in East New York. Umm, it's got to be that killa pastrami place on King's Highway. You know the one where the pastrami melts in your mouth "like butta"? Aha, yes. A bag of fresh garlic bagels from Ocean Parkway on a Sunday morning. The Italian block party in Red Hook? Yes, their sausage and pepper sandwiches on real Camareri bread. Moida. Not to mention fresh sicilian Zeppoli with powdered sugar on them for dessert.
The boy on his ahem---maiden voyage to New York's Red Hook, Cruise Ship Terminal. Asked me straight up. He's a crew member on ship of the Norwegian Lines. And he's sweet as Junior's french toast on Flatbush Avenue
Central Park, New York's front yard, has to be considered one of the world's great city parks. Like Parisians with the Bois de Boulogne and Londoners with Hyde Park, New Yorkers couldn't imagine life without Central Park. And when you consider New York as the world capital of capitalism, how many billions of dollars could have been made developing the land for business instead of leisure---it's amazing.
When the famous "grid system" of streets and avenues was put on paper, everything north of Greenwich Village was forests, marshes, farms and hills. And somehow, even then, it was decided that there would be a huge park smack in the middle of the city. Even today, you feel like you're back in the 19th century when you walk through Central Park. But this is no Disney show or Las Vegas illusion. It's always looked that way. Thank God the city is spent a lot of money to maintain the park the way it should have been done years ago.
The park is studded with famous stone archways and ornate, cast-iron bridges and overpasses. Geologists say that the huge boulders left from the Ice Age, can be traced to Canada's Hudson Bay. There are various parts of the park that make you forget that you're in the middle of a giant city, with remote appearing woods and brooks. You can't see the surrounding skyscrapers. One of these areas is called the Brambles. As the name says, it's known for it's thick underbrush. Can you guess what else? Yes, you're right. It's a huge gay cruising area by night. This past Saturday, my crew decided to check out the gay cruising scene there. Not to do anything mind you. Just to ahem---look around. We were warned and told about the dangers involved. Supposedly there's a police curfew at 1a.m. but SUPPOSEDLY the police don't enforce it anymore. People have gotten mugged, beaten up or worse out there. That means criminals who know gays are out and about, make believe they're interested in sex and take you to some isolated bushes and bop you over your head for your wallet. Or gay bashers lure guys who think they're also gay and then get the shit beaten out of them. Or worse. Thank God all that doesn't happen so often. At least not as often as some of my more experienced friends have said about years past.
Anyways, here's what we saw. Not long after you get into the area known as the Brambles, you start seeing guys of all ages, shapes and sizes. There were lots of other younger groups like ours. I guess they feel there's safety in numbers. haha Here and there were guys siting on a boulder or a bench checking out who's walking by. Here and there were dudes who had their thingies out. AND they were touching them in a funny back and forth way. Over and over again. Weird. lolz Some guys had just their zippers open. Some had their pants down around their ankles. And a few were totally NEKID. OMG. My crew and I played it cool. We kept on walking by. Talking about A-Rod not getting his 500th homer that day and shit. All of a sudden there was this guy around 45 or 50 with these weird looking leather chaps on. AND NOTHING ELSE. He said in a heavy New York accent. "hey kid. wanna tawk baseball? I got a bat and bawls faw ya".
The guy was just joking but one of us yelled "TAXI". Even though no taxis can go near there. And with that, we left.
Umm, I would say that dude had a serious Louisville Slugger. Not that I'm a size queen or anything.
How rude! It was my first bad experience in the gay scene. Ok, ok. It was a semi bad experience. I've indirectly mentioned the small group of buds I hang out with. We do a lot together. Umm---yeah even that sometimes. lol Hey, the guys are all around my age and they got killa looks. I'm only human ya know? Anyways, someone had been to a cafe at a marina on Long Island Sound in Connecticut a few weeks ago. It's supposed to be a mixed cafe. Straights, gays and lesbians. So we decided to check it out last night. It looked totally cool with the tables out on a wooden deck and with the strings of lights along the water. But when the 5 of us walked to our table, we were greeted from another table with a chorus of "BUK BUK BUK BUK". It was like the sound of a chicken. We all looked puzzled. When the waiter came to take our order, the same thing happened. I was like, WTF? One of us asked a guy next to us at another table what this was all about. He told us that we young guys are known as "chicken". None of us had ever heard that. And he said that guys who like "chicken" are called "chicken hawks" Lolz. We hadn't heard that either. No one says that in NYC as far as we know. I only know the word "twink".
I don't know if that's a local term or is it known around the country. It would be cool if anyone would know. Either way, I think it was pretty rude of those drunken dudes to act like that and embarrass us like that. Funny, just a little ways out from the city and it's a whole nother ball game out there. And even though it didn't happen in New Rochelle, it still reminded me of that old song:
Oh what a fine bunch of rubens. Oh what a jay atmosphere. They have whiskers like hay. And imagine Broadway, only forty-five minutes from here.
"Come and kiss your auntie" she used to say when we arrived for a visit. My mom would later scold me for making a face (as in horror) whenever Aunt Doris came to hug and kiss me. I guess I sorta made it obvious by bracing myself for the onslaught. I don't know why I did that and I'm sorry now that I did. There was nothing bad about Aunt Doris. And it wasn't that I wasn't used to hugs and kisses in the family. I was and am. But I was 5. And 5 year olds are not usually good at hiding their emotions. Well actually I think I do know why I had negative vibes about Aunt Doris. And it's a gross story even though it wasn't her fault. Aunt Doris is on the Dutch side of the family which goes way back. Like around 350 years way back. She lives in this imposing almost castle like home with a commanding view of the Hudson river in Rockland county, N.Y. My aunt's father-in-law had no legs because he was run over by a train. He was real ancient and curmudgeony. Any time we went over there for a visit, I would break off from the adults and go off exploring in and around the house. So when I was around 5 years old, I was out on the veranda and saw this metal cylinder-like pot. So what does a precocious 5 year old boy do? Yup, he sticks his hand in the pot. And I pulled out this mass of glop. It was this old dude's spittoon.
I was all freaked.
I ran to the coy pond and definitely scared the shit out of a bunch of goldfish. I never did find out if those coy fish ever died of tobacco spit poisoning. Lolzz
Anyways the pic I posted here is of Rudi Giuliani in drag. The pic is not a fake. Giuliani went to Donald Trump's b-day party in drag as a gag some years back. My dad always said that Aunt Doris was a spitting (pardon the pun) image of Rudi in drag. So if you wanna know what Aunt Doris looks like. Well, that comes pretty close.
P.S. Speaking of drag queens. For some reason, they tend to treat me like my Aunt Doris too. I don't know why but I seem to bring out their mother instincts. And that's why I wrote this. Today I got the same treatment from a gaggle of drag queens and it reminded me of my aunt. But umm---don't wait for me to look for any of their slimey deposits.
He's sexy, he's hot, he's the one wit da most. There ain't no one smarter on either coast. From the north plains to Texas, to the shores of Maine. All da boys wanna taste his sweet sugar cane. His name is not Frankie or Mikey or Georgie. Who is this boy from that porn-fueled orgy? His tongue is so nimble, so quick and so witty. Just the thought makes me sweat: to suck on his titty. He'll rule in the courtroom, he'll attack like a shark. Wasis name, bra? It's Markey Mark Mark.
