Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Seems like I'm in a Musical Mood lately...
Seems like I'm in a Musical Mood lately...

Have highlighted in bold my favourite lines...

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are...

You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do...

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...

I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does...

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs...

And when the snow falls you're found in Saint Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don't...

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...

Your name, it is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, a-ha-ha-ha...

They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn...

Where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...

I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try...

So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do...

I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head...

(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)

- Where Do You Go To My Lovely, Peter Sarstedt (1969)

One of the songs I love the most - simply adore the tune, and after listening to it over and over again, the lyrics as well. Apparently, some say it's based on Sophia Loren, and that just adds to the overall colour of the song. Marie-Claire can by anyone, really. Maybe it's because I've just finished reading Breakfast At Tiffany's, and I'm still in the Holly Golightly mode, that the entire idea of this song is so... appealing. I would love to drink wine and not get my lips wet; to keep a racehorse just for laughs, and do millions of other mad, extravagant things that don't seem so mad or extravagant at all, really. :)

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Monday, January 29, 2007
One Night In..
One Night In..

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster...

The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free.
You'll find a God in every golden cloister...
A little flesh, a little history...
I can feel an angel sliding up to me

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One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble...
Not much between despair and ecstasy.
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble...
Can't be too careful with your company!
I can feel the devil walking next to me...

- Head Murray, 1984

Now just put Bombay in there, instead of Bangkok.


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Friday, January 26, 2007
On the Closet TONIGHT...
On the Closet TONIGHT...

*background music: drum rolls, which give way to jazzy tune composed of loud trumpet and electronica version of I Will Survive, while graphics play scenes of Closetalk's life*

Hello and Welcome to the Tonight Show with Closetalk.

Our Top Story tonight...

*graphics swipe*

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India celebrated 51 years of being a republic today, on the 26th of January, 2007. What's that got to do with the Closet? Well, while the Indian PM and the Russian President oversaw the lavish Republic Day parade in New Delhi, homosexuality continues to be a taboo word in India. Other than the sadly-it-seems-it's-here-to-stay Section 377 that outlaws homosexuality in the country and the fact that even Princes become Paupers when they admit they're gay, back home in Bombay, the Beer Man serial killer has been dubbed a gay antisocial by the police and the media. It reminds Closetalk about all the brouhaha in Delhi some years back at the height of the Pushkin Chandra murder case - which ultimately turned out to be a case of egg on the Delhi police's face. Meanwhile, on the social activism front, many gay men in the city ask whether Gay Bombay has failed them: the Mumbai Marathon was concluded last week, but where was the much-expected Pink Contingent??? Questions are bound to be asked at the GB Republic Day party on Saturday, so watch this space for more details.

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In the UK, the Roman Catholic Church is expecting the government's decision on whether it will be excempted from having to consider gay couples as prospective parents for its child adoption agencies. While Protestant leaders and the Muslim association have sided with the Catholic body, saying that the law may be well meaning but should not infringe on the 'Right To Conscience', Tony Blair's government is showing some balls and saying it's just plain discrimination against gay couples. A final decision is expected next week.

*graphics swipe*

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Last week, there was much furore over a study that allegedly tries to turn gay sheep straight - this week though, it's time for the counter-argument: Oregon Health and Science University researcher Charles Roselli stormed back, saying that his study was to investigate sheep sexuality - and has no links whatsoever with sexual eugenics or trying to turn gay humans straight. For anyone who's interested, 8% of all rams are supposed to be gay - something which has irritated the bejesus of most redneck country farmers in the US. At the time of compiling this report, it was not clear whether the Global Organisation for Homosexual and Other Motivated Organisms (GO-HOMO) would finally take a decision on adding an icon of the ram in the middle of the World Rainbow Flag.

*graphics swipe*

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And on the entertainment front, the place for you to head after saturday night's GB party is West Hollywood, USA, - because that's from where the world's largest and newest cruise liner, the Freedom of the Seas, will set off for its all-gay Caribbean cruise on January 28th. On board are going to be more than 20 entertainers, including some of the world's top DJs, comedians, singers and performers, though the company will draw the line at having live sex shows on the high seas. While ports of call for the cruise will be Jamaica, Cayman Islands, and Mexico, the Closet is sincerely hoping that Bombay also finds its way on the wishlist.

That's it for tonight, people. See you again soon for another edition of the Tonight Show with Closetalk. Adios, sayonara, al vida, and do take condoms with you to the GB party just in case you get lucky. :)

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Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Queen of the Dessert
Queen of the Dessert

It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that

That's what good ole Tina says, while crooning what's love got to do with it, and when you think about it, it really is the truth. About sex, I mean, and about rampant sex in particular. In the last few weeks, I've basically been really getting around, if you know what I mean, and while that may cause several of my friends to drop their jaws and treat me like Priscilla Queen of the Dessert, pun intended, it also has seen reactions like: don't overdo it.

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The other night, I was chatting online with Sin, and while he was cluing me in on the strange subterfuge of aloofness he has had to adopt to get a certain boy into his life, I was regaling him with stories about the men I'd done on my Delhi holiday and after coming back to amchi Mumbai. I told him about my lust affair with the American, and how I was quiite disappointed that he didn't have sex with me despite acknowledging my (ahem) charms, and Sin chortled, "O my god, you're real easy!"

And the truth is: I am. I am easy. In bed, at any rate.

I'm the kind of guy who grins and smiles and charms, and gets charmed by the other person's grins and smiles and charms as well. And I get charmed very easily. There's only so much I can blame it on my sun sign for - and despite all the "careful, I'm a leo: flattery will get you everywhere" dialogue that I give on the chatrooms sometimes, I know that my swollen head and easy capitulation has got less to do with my sun sign and more to do with the way I am.

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... which brings me back to Tina's song. Because, for all the eagerness I display to get in bed with a random stranger, that has zero impact on how I fall in love. I'm one of those strange creatures that can very successfuly divide the left side of the brain from the right, have loads of great sex with a hot guy but not fall headlong in love with him if I don't feel the spark. I can pine in lust, as much as I can pine in love. So when I come back and complain to SnowWhite's Stepmother that the American refused to have sex with me, he gets all alarmed and exclaims: "O, don't tell me you're falling in love with another foreigner, I'll smack you!", while I wonder what the big deal is about. Of course I'm not in love with anybody - but can't a guy just wish that he'd been laid when he wanted it so bad? Is that so difficult to understand? *food for thought*

That explains my utter lack of relationship chemistry with the Cute Doc, whom I went out with on a date a couple of weeks back and spent (by all accounts) a very enjoyable coffee and conversation, minus the sex. But we never met up again, and though we bumped into each other online later many a time, neither of us broached the topic of a second date. The verdict is clear: we share great sexual chemistry, sizzle the dance floor together as if it's all just an elaborate bedroom set for us performing pornstars, but as far as the dating thing goes... we had better find other people.

And then there's the other case: TinselTown Man. Not really the type I'm physically attracted to, but so much fun to talk to. So much fun to drink coffee with for hours. Yet, when I received a weekend invitation to a seaside resort, I turned it down. I know he'll ask me again sometime soon, and the strange part is: I don't know whether I'll say yes this time or not. Am I that desperate for romantic companionship that I'll get into bed with a man I'm not very attracted to, but who makes great flambe? Uncomfortable question.

But who am I fooling? I know myself, and I know sex is a very important part of my life. I may overdo it a bit, compared to most other guys in the city/planet, but I can't get into anything in which the sex is bad.

...As Tina says, it's only logical.

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Thursday, January 18, 2007
Closetalk Conquers Delhi
Closetalk Conquers Delhi

After all the sobbing about misplaced anniversaries , I decided I needed a break. So I packed my bags, convinced my boss there was urgent work required at our Delhi office and I was the only superhero who could handle it, and left for the capitol.

There were days of preparations prior to the trip: most tourists scour the travel websites for places to visit, while I, having lived in saddi dilli and well versed with its lanes and by-lanes, decided to embark on tourism of another kind. So there was Closetalk in the chatrooms of, gaydar, guys4men and all the rest, buzzing the Delhi boys, informing them of an impending cyclone and a torrid lust affair with Bombay that was soon to hit them. I compiled a list of 11 hopefuls.

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The idea was to go about my conquest of Delhi in an orderly fashion. That was how the Rajputs conquered Delhi. That was how the Aibaks and the ud-Dins conquered Delhi. That was how the Mughals conquered Delhi. That was how the Brits conquered Delhi. And that was how Closetalk was going to conquer Delhi.

So I started at Central Delhi, called up my old friend/lover, the Ponytail Boy and got to work. We had an excellent date at this quiet restaurant in Connaught Place, got suitably high on red wine and knee-rubs against the table, and then drove over to his place. As the cold biting wind cut through the open window I muttered how Delhiites ever get the urge to procreate in the cold - to which Ponytail Boy came up with the simple truth: never heard of body heat?

Ooo, he showed me enough of body heat, though, as we copulated all night. The fact that we left the next day for some utterly sweet pancakes with dollops of maple syrup on top for a late brunch just made the episode more memorable.

I bumped into Ponytail Boy again a couple days later when my friends and I hit Pegs 'N' Pints, Delhi's answer to GB parties, and of course we did loads of grinding on the dance floor. But I had my eyes fixed on the American that night, so I didn't go back home with Ponytail Boy again. And though I got busy with work/socializing/regular sightseeing for the next few days, I decided to resume my exploration of Delhi with quaint little Hauz Khas and a sturdy as-burly-as-you-can-get Punjabi Doc.

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Punjabi Doc comes from a rich merchant family who own shops in Hauz Khas, and after the infamous Delhi sealing drive, they were forced to let these premises lie unused. Well, not exactly unused, since they now constituted Punjabi Doc's love nest. So, while I was supposed to meet Lil Mizfit later that night at South Extension, I decided to make a stopover at the Punjabi Doc's love nest.

The thrill was quite exhibitionist really: picture a basement shopping space below a very busy complex on top, and we climb down, where the windows are quite apart, with only glass panes, so that if anyone walking on the road overhead knelt down and peered through, they would be able to see the two of us panting and groaning. Body heat came to the rescue again, as Punjabi Doc unrolled some bedding onto the cold floor, and before long the doctor was giving me some much-needed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After a couple of hours, flushed and happy with a great after-sex glow, I meet the Mizfit for coffee and soon we're discussing the lesbian ways of entrapment. Fascinating discussion...

Round three in Delhi, and I sms my first love: hey, strange to think I'm living in your neighbourhood here for awhile. Don't really know what I was thinking, when I messaged him, but he replied back and said he was out with pals, but would like to meet up for a walk later that night. So, while a party was in full swing at the Chimneypot's place, I took a short hop to the park where he was waiting for me.

Surprise surprise, he was actually looking damn cute since the last time I saw him, and we started walking over and over and over around the block. Walked through the park, got chased by stray dogs, kissed in the shadows passionately while hiding from the lurking neighbourhood watchmen, till he finally got the bright idea to take me to his building. It's 3 am at night now, and the two of us climb up the stairs to his landing and go ballistic. This is Exhibitionist Thrill in capitol letters, as we got buck naked on the landing and were soon hot and heavy at it. Fond memories of making love to each other for hours at a stretch earlier, but then those kind of memories don't really have much of a place when you're that aroused and excited, so we took our own sweet time, careful not to grunt or moan too much, highly excited at the thought of discovery and scared too, and I finally make my way back to the Chimneypot's place in the wee hours of the morning, my legs still rubbery. He said, I was the first one he ever loved, and while it all felt good to hear that, I'm not walking down that path again.

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Finally, my last day in Delhi came knocking, and I had a brunch date with a cute Spanish guy from Manila at Costa Coffee. Coffee was excellent, and it was better because I knew things were soon going to get steamy...! Thrashed around in the Spanish guy's hotel room for what seemed like ages, till we were both satisfied and then we were out sightseeing - time to watch another great erection: the Qutub Minar. Maybe it was the subject or maybe it was the company, but by the end of of our sightseeing trip, I was up for a second round, and we hightailed it back to his hotel for a quickie before I caught my flight. And while we hurried it up this time, an hour later I was left ruing why we did, because my flight was declared two hours late at the airport.

Waiting at the airport, I sms NatureBoy the woes of my life: only four different guys from a list of 11! The dear boy told me I mustn't be too hard on myself and my standards tend to be much too high for normal mortals like him to follow suit and well, that made me feel marginally better. And like a good little boy who's completely innocent, I decided I must come back and prop up this poor little neglected blog of mine.

Lest anyone think from the whiny post earlier, as was told by a blog reader to a close friends that The Closet is "bottomish and ditsy". (Private joke revealed)

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