NY Mirror

Lately we all seem to be over the rainbow—and in fact over everything.

If these ethical issues prove too troubling, then just keep partying—and try to forget that party issues can be troubling too. The smart party gay doesn't want to become too attached to any one club these days because it could be shut down overnight if someone seems to be enjoying himself too much there—though we long ago perfected the art of finding all new prancing venues. The trendy Moomba scene isn't exactly a lavender paradise, so we stick to purple playpens that, for better or worse, we have all to ourselves. But there, we imitate straights' oppression by drawing up our own exclusionary rules. The most muscley guys invariably win the prom crown, the brawnies once again gaining dominance over the sissies—though I'll refrain from putting up those stigmatizing walls as long as they'llstop looking down on the ab-normal. Deal?

As for the equally big-breasted drag queens, they're still our fabulous, de rigueurcourt jesters, but—defanged by popular consumption—they're threatening to become about as edgy as mimes. Of course, in '99 New York, it's realwomen that gay men have the most problems with. The "lesbian and gay" connection—which sizzled when we were forced together in the throes of the AIDS movement—has shorted, the shallow set deciding once again that they don't want "fish" around to disrupt their sex parade. It's yet one more self-imposed barrier that cuts us off from stylishly going forward.

But we're celebrating Gay Pride, right? Well, I'll just shut up and start cheering. musto@villagevoice.com

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