Monday, December 26, 2005

Christmastime in Harlem - Life and times of a Pretty Boy in the City

Christmastime in Harlem and the City

I have had such a busy social season as-of-late. But I can’t bear to bore you with my usual dramatic reinterpretations and play-by-play minutes of each event as there as several I want to share with you. So, consider this the abridged, edited and cliff-notes review of my holiday weekend. And honestly, I would prefer to spend this entire blog talking about my attire as I painstakingly muled over each and every choice of shoes, ties, shirts, jeans, slacks and accessories. But that would be just a wee bit vain AND boring (since I won’t be sharing any pics). And if I am being honest, as I usually am with you – in fact, a little too honest, I will be very upfront and let you know I have been wrestling with how much I should share with you because I do not think it is socially productive for me to use this space to vent my frustrations with persons who are not necessarily Christian-like in their dealings with me. In other words – there was some hating going on this weekend. Some overt, some subliminal. But I am used to taking it both ways (pun intended). BUT I have to share a "zinger" with you cause The Texas Tiger had to show a few boys up in NYC that I didn’t make it all the way to New York from Texas without being one of the brightest light bulbs in the bunch. I am going to condense my usual section and tell you how I have been feeling the past three days…..

Mood: Super Filthy Gorgeous AND hot tamale (a deadly combination). In honor of the holiday season, I would like to share a drink recipe I concocted this weekend that is fruity and strong (you now how I like my drinks). And it will make you feel like bubblin brown sugar.

Mode: (Friday) I went retro-Euro trash. I wore some faded Diesel jeans with a vintage ripped Euro trash shirt. Very RENT meets Soho. My shirt was brown and had hundreds of intentional creases. The front of the shirt was lace up. (Saturday) I went Mary-Kate post bulimia. Everything fit my slim body so tight you could see my heartbeat. And of course I made a few hearts race all night J Tight tight tight mustard shirt, plaid bell-bottoms. (Sunday) I went cosmopolitan and classy. Form-fitted slacks, button-up shirt with French cuffs and vintage trench coat.

Music that defined my weekend: "Men All Pause" by Klimaxx. In the words of Bernadette, "I knew I was looking good…somebody slap me"

"Buffalo Stance" by Neneh Cherry. For those nostalgic moments. The moments that took me back to grammar school and dancing in my room. Back when black men in rap videos wore biking shorts, make-up and had smiles on their faces.

"Get Together" by Madonna. I play this before I leave the house for a party because it takes me right back to "Get Into the Groove" where I am dancing with a gorgeous stranger wondering what the coming night will bring.

"Starchild" by Jamiroquai. I love this man. He is white, British and full of blue-eyed soul. Much more than the over-hyped Joss Stone. And he loves Rufus and Chaka Khan as much as I do. If I could sing, I would model my music after his. He is my secret British alter-ego. Well, him and Naomi Campbell. This song makes me happy. The music is such a spiritual journey.



"Say Say Say" by Alicia Myers. Now you all know I love the old school. This is one of those early 80s songs that mixes the remnants of disco with the emergence of r&B/funk. It’s a song about love and finally finding that someone you have been searching for. Can we see a theme?

AND……

"I Don’t Want to Lose Your Love" by B Angie B. You remember this? I used to be in Houston vibrating on the dance floor working the kids out to this track. Remember B Angie B in a white halter top with shingles and a long-flowing black weave? I get in my mirror and work the bridge out….

Question of the weekend: Why are you hating (and this question was for several party-goers)? P.S. Hand to up to God, I was on "good behavior" all weekend. Any negativity directed toward me was totally unsolicited and unprovoked.

FRIDAY (a well-appointed apartment in Harlem)

After some light shopping in the city to celebrate the overcommecialization of the holiday season, I decided to stick to my prior decision about limiting all of my social activities to those in my neighborhood of Harlem. I was thinking that the MTA would be on strike but it miraculously ended Friday morning. After a quick power nap and a dinner of baked red snapper and roasted potatoes, I picked out my wardrobe, made a chocolate martini and did a quick dash for the door.
The event was top—notch as could be expected from good friend who is a director at one of the city’s Ivy-League institutions. Well, technically there is only one ivy-league school here in the city but you know I like to keep it vague. Anyway, the hor d’oeuvres included chicken and veggie egg rolls, assorted little quiches and other nibbly things. I do not know who catered that evening’s events because my friend "Peter" was intent on pretending that he has cooked for the party. As if…

This is the only zinger I will share with you from the evening but it was so appropriate and much needed.

BACKGROUND: There was an older gentleman (we will put him in his early 40s), about 6 feet, nice build and fairly attractive with a small tummy (not a gut but clearly not a six-pack). His outfit was nothing to blog about and neither was his highly uppity and opinionated attitude. Well actually, that does make him blog worthy. I remember him from an earlier party because he made some shockingly evil comments about two persons who are HIV+ and that pissed me off to the highest level of pissosity that can be reached in a social climate without blowing your cool composure. I have several very close friends in this situation so yes I am admittedly sensitive and apt to go off when people say things I think are unbefitting of "supposedly" progressive and educated folks. So needless to say, he was on my short list of "Folks I can’t take."

Scene: We are in the kitchen and I am with Andre (whom I will introduce to you in a second). Andre is a vegan so we were concerned about which egg rolls had meat. Now, Mr. 40 was all-up-and-through the egg rolls so I thought it fitting to ask him if he knew what was in them. Mr. 40 turns around and looks at me with an EVIL look as if I am supposed to know that he has three private chefs at home (mind you the kitchen is full of strangers) and this is how it all went down:

Mr. 40: Do I look like I cook?

FREEZE FRAME: It was nasty. The room went silent. Such unnecessary evil. It was that type of look you get when someone decides that they are social "better" than you and expect you to cowtow to them. I just want you to imagine Mr. 40 giving me sizzle in a crowded room while I stand there looking stunned YET stunning J . Get into it…now snap out of freeze frame and remember I told you about his kangaroo pouch. Now I need to repeat the quick exchange and how it went down so you can catch the flow. But I want you to know that after he said that to me, time stopped. If you were somewhere doing something special at 10:45 ET you know what I mean. Cause I stopped time here in NYC. With a quick bat of my bubblin brown eyes I looked Mr. 40 in his eyes, scanned down to his stomach and then brought my eyes square back up to his…

REPLAY-----------------------------
Mr. 40: Do I look like I cook?
Texas Tiger: No, but you sure look like you eat.

And silence befell the kitchen.

And with that I batted my eyes one last time and walked out of the kitchen. And I’ll have you know, not only was Mr. 40 taken aback by that exchange, he asked me out at the end of the evening. I respectfully declined.

I went to the party with my good friend Andre, who moved back to California this weekend to pursue an acting and modeling career. Andre is about 6’1" and it Black and Egyptian. He’s gorgeous. He was getting a lot of work here but really wants to break into movies so he went back to Cali and it was our last party together (at least for now). And Andre caught hell at the party too. Now I can see why people were threatened but when you are in a room full of pretty boys who are all educated at elite schools, all Black, all employed and supposedly intelligent, you would expect an evening of political discourse that is simultaneously thought-provoking and enlightening. That is what I hoped for. WRONG. Those boys took out their Christmas daggers for me and Andre. I guess all those boys who got knives for Christmas had unwrapped them earlier that evening and wanted to test them out. But I’m not one you test a knife out on. You must bring your shown and proven swords. I am so happy my retro outfit came complete with an inner lining of steel and armor. I could have been bloody.

NOW…that is the only zinger of the weekend I am including because I have a lot to share with you and I don’t want you to check out.

ANDRE: Good luck in Cali and I hope you get some big contract that pulls you back to the NYC. See you on a billboard really soon!

SATURDAY (a well-appointed art gallery in Harlem AND LATER a nice little hot spot in the East Village aka where they supposedly made RENT)

This is the party where I created the Terry Tamale drink and let me tell you, I enjoyed myself so very much. A very New York evening. The crowd was eclectic and I was able to dance a little and work the room meeting a few artists, producers and activists. I so love meeting artists. In my dreamworld, which I visit often, an emerging artist falls madly in love with me and I become his muse. In my dream the artist is sometimes a painter, other times he is a fashion designer. Nevertheless, at some point I am at a suzy-affair on the Upper West Side amongst a room full of publicists, writers and photographers and the "artist" announces that the collection he is debuting is totally inspired by the Texas Tiger who is the most fascinating man he has ever met. Isn’t that a cute little dream? I remember a Woody Allen interview where he said that Diane Keaton is the most fascinating woman he has ever met in his life and that she totally inspired several of his movies. She won an Oscar in the 70s (1977 I believe) for starring in his acclaimed movie Annie Hall.

But what also made this a New York moment for me is that I went out onto the terrace (something you can’t do in Texas) to get some air. A nice fellow followed me outside and we had a fabulous conversation about man-bags (which you also can’t rock in Texas), movies, the commercilazation of the season and how it obscures the existence of any "gods" and how very different it is to be Southern and to transplant yourself to the Big Apple.

I just had to take in the moment. Those precious moments. The moments where you step back and take stock of what is going on in your life, in your space, in your "self." I truly do love New York. I can’t think of any place I’d rather be right now. Except maybe the bed of Mechad Brooks somewhere in Hollywood, California.

Then I moved on down to the Lower East Side. Where the funky people like to hang out and pop happy pills, do lines of Coca-Cola and drink expensive martinis. Then they head back to work on Monday as our lawyers, doctors and accountants like stiff conservatives who spend their evenings reading. Now at this point, I was beyond bubblin brown sugar. I was simmering and frothy.

There was some HEAVY flirting going out. The prior party was only a precursor to what was about to go down. Let’s just say I have a busy week and a happy new year on the horizon J
I ran into a fellow I have been secretly lusting after for a few weeks but he had had a few too many Terry Tamales and it was one of those weird situations where I started a conversation then struggled to end it awkwardly. But he was so pleasing to the eyes. Then I had a drink of the "sit-down." I don’t know what it was, but whatever my friend bought me mixed with my prior cocktails made me SIT DOWN.

We ended the evening by going to my favorite late-night burger spot, Big Nick’s on 77th and Broadway. I ordered a Cajun Cheeseburger and it was dreamy. I love burgers and at BIG Nick’s you have a choice of over 30 burgers. I kid you not. If you are hungry at 4:38am after a night of clubbing, hit Big Nick’s on the Upper West Side.

SUNDAY:

I celebrated Christmas by waking up with a Christmas Eve buzz and a smile on my face. Happy Birthday Jesus!

I called the family in Texas and apologized for having to work during the holidays. I spoke to my six-month old niece who knows how to pick up the phone and say "Hi." I hear she took her first few steps yesterday as she was determined to make it towards a toy she wanted. She is gorgeous. I am so happy she takes after me cause I was a little fearful she would come out looking like my brother-in-law. He’s not bad looking but why settled for being a 6 when you can be a 10…ya know?

My friend Nina came over and we celebrated Christmas together. I cooked her a dinner of prime-rib (well done) with my special Texas-loaded mashed potatoes and green peas. Nina in turn brought a bottle of Verve Clique which I promptly popped open and we toasted to the holiday season. We finished dinner and threw on our coats in time to make it to the 7:30 performance of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. The performance of Revelations was riveting. I had chills, literally. I was so inspired that for 2006, I have decided to sign up for a 10-week course in ballet at Alvin Ailey. I have always wanted to study ballet but it wasn’t of any interest to my parents. I figure I owe it to myself since I have the means to make my own decisions. At this point in my life, there is only so much I can blame on mom and dad. I have to take action.

After heading back to Harlem, Nina and I finished the bottle and went searching desperately for some trouble in Harlem only to find that EVERYTHING was closed. It was pathetic. You would think with all of the gentrification someone would realize that there are young adults in Harlem who want to be able to kick it at midnight seven days a week. But we were not accommodated. Nina dropped me off, and might I add Nina looked quite smashing in her knee-high crocodile boots, with black pants, a mustard shirt (that matched mine and no we did not plan this) and skin tight black top. Nina is a "Hollywood-thin" girl about the size of Nicole Richie if she ate three-days straight.

And before I go, I want to tell you about Thursday. I had the day off so I decided a while back that when I have days off during the week I am going to visit museums and exhibits. Because of the strike, I decided to stay in Harlem and visit the Studio Museum of Harlem on 125th Street between 7th and 6th. The title of the exhibit was "Frequency" and according to the museum’s director Thelma Golden, the exhibit was a "post-Black" forum for emerging artists around the country. The exhibit did not have a theme per se, but it was a described as a forum for artists who do not wish to be view only as African-American artists, but rather seek acknowledgement as artists who are simply individuals whose work interrogates and critiques the African-American experience. That’s how Ms. Golden describes "post-Black." Isn’t that hot?

I am a post-Black blogger.

Anyway, several pieces left an impression on me so I highly recommend it. Two short films are especially noteworthy: Kalup Linzy’s Conversations with de Churen III: de Young and da Mess AND Michael Paul Britto’s Dirrrty Harriet. Linzy walks us through a gay relationship that ends as one man cannot go through with a commitment ceremony because of his church’s reluctance to accept the union as well as his families’ disapproval. Britto reinterprets Harriet Tubman as a gun-tooting slave revolutionary and literally left me in stitches when he ends the movie with Harriett Tubman front and center leading several slaves to freedom as they danced a routine to Britney Spears "I’m a slave 4 U." I almost lost it. Such creativity.

Ok, love you all. But I gotta go. And as I take my final bow, Iike to share this with you:
Gossip Worthy----

What did Oprah Winfrey get her best friend, Gayle King, for the holidays? Apparently, a man.
A source close to the best buds say that the queen of talk has hooked King up with none other than one of her other pals, gospel star BeBe Winans.

"Gayle and BeBe have known each other forever. But Oprah figured that since both are divorced and looking to date, why not date each other?" the source tells us.

After King spends time with her kids and ex-husband in Connecticut, she and Winans will meet up with Winfrey and her boyfriend, Stedman Graham, at the talk-show host's Santa Barbara estate, where they plan to ring in the New Year together.
So see, they're not lesbians!

SIDEBAR: As you all know, I do not allow any negative comments about Oprah Winfrey in my presence. However, you kids can wear this lil gossip item out cause I have no relationship with BeBe Winans. But um, seems like he’s more Eddie Murphy’s type…if you know what I mean.
Posted by Texas Tiger in NYC :: 3:34 AM :: 1 Comments:

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