Friday, April 18, 2008

My Name is Cybil, and I Hate Her!

I managed to end up in Palm Springs on the weekend of the biggest circuit party of the year: The White Party. I'm staying in the notorious boyhive, the Wyndham Hotel. I woke up this morning at 9 am when they began blaring house music from the pool. It's still blaring. As hotels go, the Wyndham is box-y and blah, and you have to pay extra for internet when it's free even in the cheapest of roadside motels.

The reason the party is here has to do with tradition, the size of the pool, and the fact it's attached to the Convention Center. I came here ten years ago, at the height of circuit party popularity, so I'm interested to see if the White Party still has it going on.

In the mid-nineties, the dance floor was joyful and happy, with lyrics and love on the dance floor. Since then, the music has gotten darker, harder, angrier. It's spelled the decline of big dance all over the globe, and it's all linked to the darker, harder, angrier drug of choice: meth.

Meth, and the internet.

Los Angeles feels a lot more meth-y than New York. They've got these PSA billboards all over town (which I hope are more effective than shock adverts like "try meth--get AIDS free!"):




I lost me to meth...

and nobody called him a faggot!



I'm told that the White Party is still a big money earner for the Palm Springs Wyndham, but that Jeffrey Sanker and the actual party isn't as popular. Why? People now congregate in the hotel, and instead of hitting the parties, they go online to craigslist, or manhunt, and organize massive meth-fueled orgies inside their rooms.

Why go to a party, when you can order in?

Where once we gathered to have fun and joyously rejoice, our subculture has lately turned to anonymous adventure and instant gratification with a shocking lack of eye contact. It's easy for me to understand why people might lose themselves to meth.

It's the message they get from their own family, the legislature; especially it's the message we pass out to one another. We don't like ourselves enough. Notice it, and make a change. Even in the gay media, there is a subtle message of straight-acting-only self-hate.

The role models we are given are mostly approving heterosexuals. Thank you for not calling us faggots! We want to be with them; we want to cross over and be them, which of course we can't. But sit down with the synthetic power of a pipeful of meth, you can forget all that.

We have the power to bring back the happy music. Hug a queen today. Hug yourself today. Let's spread that message.


Need help getting started? For resources free of judgment, try menotmeth.org, or tweaker.org.

7 comments:

Mark in DE said...

When will everyone STOP mething around???

Mark :-)

Eddie said...

Love you, Jesse! Sing out, Louise!!!!!

Lucky Pierre said...

Those PSAs are all over SF as well; including on TV. I think they're quite effective. I mean, they have an impact on me and I've never even considered doing meth.

Joe Moore said...

It's sad that the party has been reduced to that. I've never been, and have wanted to go, but I don't do anything harder than alcohol and I went to a NYE party once where they were doing meth, and all sorts of other drugs and I felt very out of place. So that's what's kept me from going to White Party these past few years. I just wouldn't have a good time, because I'd be the only one only drinking. :-)

Casper said...

Great post Jesse! I so agree with you. Hope you turn it into a OUT Magazine column! love & kisses

JPFreeman said...

Gosh, that post was very well written and really hit me hard. I totally related to your words, on the flip side. Just last night, I was sitting in Mary's Attic and minding my own. I just wanted a quesadilla and a few drinks, but the vibe was totally Friday night gay bar and I was uncomfortable. I felt like I was too overweight and obviously in my thirties; I clashed with the crowd of primped and pretty party boys. Even in my own gay element, I don't fit in, and I wanted to go home. I wanted to hide in my apartment and get high, thinking that would make me feel better for a bit. Yet, having already spent $30 on food and booze, I figured a bag of blow economically wasn't in my best interests. So, I just went home--after eating the whole quesadilla, of course.

Chad said...

Amen sistah! I got into the party/club scene several years ago before meth really took hold. I remember glamor filled nights of arched eyebrows, dewy glossed lips, and LOTS of lady-like runway. When I moved to DC, meth was already large and in-charge and the club scene was scuuuuury! I miss FUN HOMOS!!! These judgy-pants methed out mo's have taken all the good times outta being gay!