Because of my rapidly advancing age (I am 23), I have little tolerance for the word “rock” as a transitive verb in its recent usage of “putting on”, “affecting”, or “applying (the subject’s) distinct flavor to”. It makes me uncomfortable when people use it in conversation:
Someone: I thought I’d rock the turtleneck tonight.
Me: {stick fork in your eye}
When used “to bring rock ‘n’ roll music to”, like The Clash’s “Rock the Casbah” or “to sway or disturb” like K.C. And the Sunshine Band’s “Rock the Boat”, I’m O.K. with it. But it will always be awkward to say to someone that you want to “Rock” their “Body”. Also unacceptable is “I want to make freak on you.”
Despite this, I enjoyed the XFanz Rocks Burlesque party at Hollywood’s Dragonfly last night. There was, in fact, some burlesquerie going on but I didn’t see any of it, as I arrived intoxicated, continued to get inebriated, and left drunk. In fact, I’m still drunk now.
Nikki Hunter reprised her saucy succubimbo role from The New Neighbors.
The party was not an open bar, and yet I drank more than at this weekend’s Corruption soiree. This is because at open bars I often forget to bring small bills for tips. I drank my own liquid weight at the open bar Sacred Sin “gathering” and compensated by purchasing some art that I still have not received. In that I had 75 drinks there, I now feel the $150 I spent for my lack-of-art could be used as tips if I hadn’t tipped already.
That is neither here nor there. The important thing is that I drank a lot. Gia Paloma bought me one of those drinks. She bought it out of guilt; I drank it out of really enjoying alcohol. Which is worse?
The last porn event I attended at the Dragonfly was Eon McKai’s Neu Wave Hookers party. The only person I saw at last night’s party who was also at the NWH party was director DCypher. It is because we alone can traverse Porn’s many territories. When DCypher sees me at events, he likes to quote my reviews of his films back at me.
Last night, because his Wonderland was nominated for several awards by AVN, he was particularly on fire.
“Hiya doin’ Gram too wordy Shakespeare quoting condescending thinks a lot of himself blah blah blah Nabokov,” he said.
AVN is like the adult industry’s drunken dad; it ignores you, calls you by the wrong name, doesn’t send child support, sneezes coke all over everything, pays more attention to its illegitimate offspring than you, tries to fuck your wife, doesn’t learn from its mistakes, and has a closet full of porn, but oh how giddy everyone gets with one kind word.
(I kid because I love.)
Speaking of drinking, someone was worse off than I. The pugnacious Oliver Bone, creator of XXXUrbanLegends, who probably would have sat on the opposite side of the cafeteria from me in high school (and thrown tater tots at me), demanded I drink with him.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I said.
Taking my agreement as a sign to throw my half-full cup of Jagermeister away, he did so, and it beaned poor wee Bobbo of XFanz fame.
“Why did that happen?” he asked God, though he was looking at me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Porn stars and the musicians who love them abounded. Shane’s World‘s Casey Parker, with whom I shared an idyllic afternoon among California’s pioneers, mistook me for Tod-Hunter. It is because I was wearing his watch.
“When will the interview be up?” she asked.
“Who are you, Drew Rosenfeld?” I asked.
“What?” she asked.
“What?” I asked. Then we realized at the same time she thought I was someone else.
“I thought you were someone else,” she said.
“And I thought our time together was special,” I wept.
“It was, it was,” she said. “But I’ve been so busy…”
“I am slain,” I said. “You have slain me.”
Here is a picture of Parker’s writing sweet nothings to other porn media types.
The headliner of the evening was Dave Navarro, who has been showing up at porn events recently. His side project from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, (with former Jane’s Addiction bandmates) Panic Station, was playing an acoustic set that included “Pinball Wizard” and “Highway to Hell”. They were very good.
Dave Navarro and XBiz/XFanz spiritual leader Alec Helmy are not the same person.
Even better was Kurt Lockwood. I have seen his band, The Sex City Punks, several times, and each time the band’s enjoyability was inversely proportional to Lockwood’s ego. This time, though Lockwood went on just before closing time and though there were more people filming Lockwood than listening to him, the band really sounded strong.
Wait a minute – who is Sunny Lane calling gay?
This is little Kylee King. She rode around in my pocket for most of the evening. She was not even as wide as the pixels of this photograph.
When the end came, as it will for all of us, I walked through the cool Hollywood morning and carried my car home (I was rocking an inability to drive).
Previously: Sunset Thomas to host KSEX awards; Report: XBiz award desirable
See also: XFanz
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