dance hall days

MEDUSA'S MUSIC HALL CHICAGO 1982-1992

i love visiting chicago- my hometown. i can't help but be reminded that in 1982 in chicago, some friends and i helped our friend get his after hours club open. it took a lot of our energy and time and took on an importance in our lives suddenly. a commitment we never expected. seems like we lived and breathed those dance hall days. i have been in chicago barely 24 hours and i am flooded with memories and melancholy. my best friends still live here and i still love them madly. we have all changed, and we are all still the same. and when we start bringing up the adventures - girls gone wild- the temperatures in the room rise as does the volume. not quite superheroes, we were definitely stunt persons. we came, we saw, and we remember (at least most of it). although i'm pretty sure blue remembers it all- she has a memory like a steel trap.

you know, i have to laugh when i think about just how left wing and on the edge we were back then. we broke rules, we took chances, we said yes to pleasure more often than not. hedonistic and culturally inclusive, we did make a small mark on the complexion of culture in our little burg. and we had an effect on some we didn't even know

here are what a few of us are up to now:


sharon schittbaum

medusa

rodney

bluzilla

unfortunately- velvet, mark stephens, todd tennenbaum, bruce bliss, rik, patrick, and many more moved through to the vip dance hall in the sky. and i miss them with regularity and remember them lovingly.

i totally adore my days-gone-by chicago crew and may drop some more thoughts about them while i'm here.




meanwhile, i was attending an all day seminar at the new glbt center on halsted. hanging from the ceiling in the theatre was my best friends panel from the aids quilt. it took me by surprise and i got a bit emotional. i hadn't seen it since the early 90's when i went to see the whole thing unfurled in dc. his sister made the panel. she always made me laugh. my true darling- paul pfohl. i was flooded with memories of him, our days in the hood, our fag-filled attempts at guerilla perfomance art, and the last year of his life - 1985. that last year was a very tough time for me. it's the same year i tested positive. i was a traumatized idiot and self-medicated through most of the process. i loved paul pfohl though, and still do. it was a blessing really to see that panel.


ahhhh.......this memory lane is filled with tender mercies....
might as well kick it. here's another great memory from those dance hall days.