Today was Heneritta's birthday; she is so nice and such an institiution and legend here, that is was an incredible honor to hold this for her and we wish her many more.


Posing with my long-time friends, Bob and Terry, yielded up a cache of stories from Heneriettta. She described how in the late eighties the poilice would raid the gay beach, 21st Street and try to snatch everone on the sand. The fiesty ones would run in the water where police patrol boats waited with nets. We need a writer for her to tell the whole story.

Ray's boys were out in force, and I love them because they support Ray with every ounce of conviction that friends would have for another. I'm not part of their crowd--although I adore them--but if I were Ray I would be comforted by the knowledge that these guys LOVE him. You don't come across that in this crazy life very often.

Edison Farrow and his boyfriend, Nester, graciously contributed their precences, too.

The crowd was really loving DJ Carlos; he was playing Music of The Divas.

Warner traveled all the way from Homestead to attend Henrietta's birthday (and wasn't she happy!). Hey, Warner, my birthday is next month; can you wear the same outfit?

Henrietta with "the gang". I kept it on the back burner, but actually celebrated my two year anniversary at The Palace, some of an accomplishment given the intrigue level and marginal ability to be assassinated at a place like this. There is no doubt that it is coming to an end, but the two-year tour has been fantastic. Seeing Tina, Ahrlene, Bunny, Susanne, Amanda, and all the rest made me realize that after twenty-five years of non-stop night life, it is probably time to stop. I don't know; perhaps I'll set up a nice, little shop that sells refridgerator magnets of my best pictures. I could include a cool, refreshing beverage with it, too; not mention how I could mesmerize every visitor with MY stories. It could be a small club, maybe with a tiny dancefloor. You know, just big enough for a good time on a Sunday afternoon.