On Friday night, we sent young gay writer-hottie Bennett Madison to cover a party thrown in honor of the birthday of gay eminence Bruce Benderson. We didn't know who that was either, but it turns out that he's very important to the gays! "Bruce Benderson is like Gore Vidal but a little bit [Ed: Um, 21 years!] younger and more downtown. He wrote a bunch of books which no one at the party had read (I asked). Also he went to high school with Camille Paglia. He's an outrageous gay elder statesment. I mean statesman. I'm still drunk," Bennett IM'd us this morning. The detailed accounting of his fun times are after the jump, accompanied by photos by perpetual lone heterosexual in the room Nikola Tamindzic. More more more can be found here.
So if you're a good artfag like me, I'm sure you know all about Bruce Benderson, right? Basically he is a legendarily obstreperous Euro-style queen/writer who kind of wishes we could all go back in the closet, because the sex was so much hotter at the Stonewall, back when pesky gay liberation had yet to come in the way of a sweaty, unmentionable backroom fuck. Way to depress everyone under fifty, but unfortunately, BOI may have a point. At Bruce's birthday celebration at Home Sweet Home on Friday, the vibe was decidedly UN self-hating. And really, most of the people at this party should hate themselves at least a little bit. I'm just saying. Just a LITTLE. (If you were competing in the unofficial WHOSE WRESTLING SINGLET IS MOST OUTRAGEOUS contest, this means you!)
According to Mr. Benderson, one reason the olden days were better, other than the sexy repressiveness, is because, "When you had a birthday party, the people who came brought you PRESENTS and actually KNEW WHO YOU WERE. Tonight, they wouldn't let me in the door— even AFTER I took off my sparkly red feather wig!" Aw, Bruce! What the fuck?! But I totally know what he meant. When cornered for an "interview," the actor-cum-musician-cum-gogo boy who broke up my last relationship (sorry again about that night, Frank!) had NO idea who I was. "Didn't you used to have blond hair?" he asked me. Well... NO! But sometimes you want to go where everybody bitchily pretends to forget your name.
Or maybe you want to go where everybody will give you a rimjob! It was sadly unclear whether this was THAT kind of party or not. Ok, true there were naked dudes literally dangling from the ceiling, but otherwise the usual post-millennial stench of anodyne sexuality was totally in the air. Maybe it was just the sweat mixed with Viktor + Rolf Flowerbomb, but still. I'm not trying to be an asshole about this party, because it was just as fun or more fun than any other homosexual night on the town, and I myself was acting like an insipid spaz, which certainly didn't add anything. But between Bruce Benderson and the "sponsoring" magazine— the seminal gay Nancy Friday-style porno zine STRAIGHT TO HELL— it was hard not to be nostalgic for the days when no one was trying to have a conversation. At a certain point, any redblooded gay must ask himself: if I'm not getting a BJ, why am I here?
Oh, right: it's to see the same ten guys I see at the Metropolitan every Sunday, plus fag artistes Terrence Koh and Ryan McGinley and Kiki and Herb chanteuse Justin Bond. Time to wrap this up so I can get back to ManHunt!