Jim’s Fag-Bashing Past
Posted by Mark Allen on 08 Apr 2008 | Tagged as: Random Posts
Jim (the banjo/guitar picking, yodeling, mountain music-playing, “serious” song-writing and my boyfriend Jim) has a secret past. He used to be in an apocalyptically-inclined, San Francisco art punk band (along with his friends Paul and Dave) called Fagbash, in the 1990’s. What’s funny is that years before Jim and I even met, not only did I buy their Whores Blues EP (and stare at his photo on the back) but I also went out of my way to go see them perform at NYC’s Squeezebox club when they came into town in about 1995. Did I know that the person posing on that stage—and on that album cover—would be my husband so many eons later? Well, the show that night was so chaotic, ear-splitting and confusing that I honestly couldn’t tell what was going on (so…yes). It wasn’t until our second date that the both of us even made that “Oh…that’s so…weird…â€? past connection. Fagbash now have an archival MySpace page full of songs, memories, photos, etc. You many not recognize Jim, he’s the one usually in the glasses and fur coat (although sometimes he donned a J. Mascis-y knit hat to play the drums with—and uh, no, that is not him in the photo above, that’s one of their show flyers).
Oh. My. God. Jim used to live here in San Francisco!?!?!
I thought he looked familiar. I moved here in the early 1990’s. I think I once blew him in a parking garage on 18th Street. Or at the black sand beach in Marin. Or in the maze downstairs at the Campus Theatre. Or maybe at 1015 Folsom. Or Blow Buddies. Or the Nob Hill Cinema. Or the Black House on Castro. Or in the pool table area of Badlands. Or in the men’s room at Midnight Sun. Or near the video games at Moby Dick. Or behind the chain link fence at the Detour. Or in my Honda Civic VX at the Presido Cemetary.
Fabulous!
Two words of advice: charm school.
Sincerely,
Mr. Nose