The Sound Factory set of last week is now permanently archived . Soon I will be posting some of the emailed response... but not today.

One of the best things about this year is that I've made a number of good new friends.

One of them is a hot young Latino boy who other than being Latino and not nearly as cute as me, reminds me of me when I was his age, mostly because he loves dancing and staring at himself in my full length mirror. He's quite self-centered so when we're together we tend to repel and attract at once, like binary stars. He always asks if I have the most obvious of house songs by singing the most obvious words (e.g. 'got to be strong..' , eh) and he flips out when I play such hits. ( 'Rapture' is another favorite, and I agree on that one.)

He's not DJ conscious yet but his bubbly enthusiasm for all things club bubbles over into my own shallow stream. If it weren't for enthusiastic young ones like him we'd all be jaded horses, although his penchant for getting blowjobs at Roxy is a bit disconcerting. It is nice to befriend kids who properly avoid the Kurfew trap.

He's an ass virgin but recently revealed a sexual fantasy where multiple people snort coke off his naked body and then fuck him. The other night he let a guy do the coke part but unfortunately he didn't get fucked. As he quipped in a gay latin accent complete with head swivel, 'I'll be damned if I let a femme top fuck me!'

Well that leaves out half of Chelsea.

Growing up I was always the youngest one in a crowd of older sophisticates (if you count crackhead porn stars as sophisticates). Now, I am surrounded by children.

Kidding aside, the gay world is very ageist and I feel its my effortless duty to counter this and be more fabulous than anyone younger. I wouldn't hide my age like RuPaul, who is much, much older than me. I'm 30 and I'm smarter, better looking and even smell better than those in their 20s. Teens? Forget it. Not even on my calculator. I'm going to grow old gracefully and have abortions like Maude.

Every year I age is another thorn in the side of youth.

Someday I'll be an ornery old man. It will be great. I'm going to wander supermarket aisles yapping about melons and laughing hysterically.

But until those glory days, I wonder what I should do next to make money. Who is the old fart who should be bumped out of his job for the glory of my well-being? I came up with a job list and at the top of the easy-to-lots-of-money ratio is 'Columnist for the Village Voice', i.e. Michael Musto.

What does that cocksucking bitch have that I don't? (Just kidding Michael).

I was actually at an 'open house' for a local place of learning last week. Yes I am applying to go to school. That's life, eh?

I felt out of place because aside from a white-haired old woman (Maude?) everyone else was a young pup, even the girlish presenters. But soon enough I noticed their modes of presentation. Ha. Lapdogs to fashion. They may have lots of talent, technically, but I have something called verve which they lack completely. Anyways I would never admit to being intimidated in front of you.

Assuming I get there and can find a way to afford it, I will be Flash Gordon, hurling my body out into the void .

Oh calm down, Ming. It won't be so bad.

Hopefully verve will be enough to get me in. But what do you care about my life? You come for the music. Here's a great song from 1994 which reflects a feeling I never have:

'Nervaas' by Junior Vasquez

Join us next week for another star-studded tribute to.. me!