OK. So it’s New York, right? And there’s all these posh bars and lounges where, if you survive the scrutiny of the enormous lunkheaded individuals guarding the door while self-important, bluetooth-earpieced publicists brandishing clipboards peer at you over designer eyewear, you are admitted to the privilege of purchasing diluted, undersized “premium” cocktails, sometimes served in plastic cups, for fifteen or twenty dollars a pop. I know, it sounds like a great time, right? Well, for one thing, there’s a lot of fast money floating around this town in the hands of people who don’t know what else to do than flash it. But more importantly, only suckers actually pay full price. (A rule that applies in many settings, by the way.) The real action is when media houses, PR firms, banks, and other capitalist swine upstanding corporate citizens rent out these establishments for parties where those fortunate enough to be on The List may eat and drink unlimited and gratis, and leave with at least a big goodie bag of schwag, or better, a couple of business leads and maybe someone to share some drunk sex with at night and figure out how to get rid of in the morning.
In this world, where if it didn’t happen in the Flatiron or Meatpacking districts it might as well not have happened at all, and you’re always just in from Los Angeles, just off to London, or more likely, working as a flak for the people who truly are, this world snarkily yet slavishly celebrated by outlets like Radar magazine and Gawker.com, there reside, as you might imagine, some less than savory characters. For let’s face it: Delusions of grandeur, fantasies of power and sophistication, lots of booze, hotties, free stuff — the scene is a hustler’s delight.
And so it came to pass that a hustler rose to great heights.
And that hustler was desi.
A kind soul posted a link to the story of Priyantha Silva on the news tab yesterday, but with a description so laconic that few of you may have been drawn to click it. Really it should have said: READ THIS! THIS SHIT IS RIDICULOUS, HILARIOUS, CLASSIC! Realizing this, a number of Sepia stalwarts have been emailing us demanding that we blog it. But really, it’s one of those stories that doesn’t warrant blogging. It stands alone. It speaks for itself. How could we improve on it? So without further ado, I direct you to the Ballad of Brother Priyantha, and await your wise commentary.
Hahahah It does happen in NYC all the time and usually those that carry themselves with poise and don’t make fools of themselves get away with it. This guy drew too much attention to himself.
Speaking go crashing I have heard tons of stories from cousins in India crashing weddings. That must be soooo easy. The last wedding I went to in India had nearly 1500 people.
He has a goofy grin like Buddy Hackett.
No creativity here, you initially mentioned the morality/ethics angle of party crashing. I was merely trying to understand & clarify your stance.
And you also were the first to introduce the tactics of other crashers than Silva into this conversation! Check your message history!
Everyone else’s comments were straight-forward, but yours required some more conversation, so I was not addressing or referencing others’ comments.
My understanding was that this blog was about gaining understanding and supporting healthy discussion on topics initially stemming from most anything South Asian. Am I mistaken? Or do I have to answer your question for my ‘need to defend him’ – insinuating that I am attempting to do more than just engage in commenting, discussion, and mild debate?
If there is some sort of tacit agreement to not engage in conversation with or leave comments pertaining to certain individuals I would appreciate having that information posted.
The look on his face just says it all.
Classic, classic stuff.
FukYoCouch, Silva! 🙂
Peace Renita, There is definitely some massive loss in translation between us. Understanding tone and humor can definitely be lost on the web. I don’t think either of us is saying anything different.
Well said, Siddhartha. Crashing is an art. A good crash is one which makes people wonder why they waited in line for 2 hours, sweet-talked (or flashed) the bouncers, got groped by dancefloor pervs, then lied about their associations to get into VIP where it’s the same thing, just snobbier… all when instead they could be somewhere, you know, fun?? …with you 😉
I feel that way about any place with bouncers or where entry is a big deal.
One night this summer I went to a David Lee Roth concert in a Times Square theater. After the concert, we went to the trendy W hotel for a nightcap. The waitress looked at my friend who was wearing a Van Halen T-shirt and asked if we were with the Van Halen After Party. So we ended up in the VIP section partying with DLR while drinking free $15 Manhattans. My friend hooked with an absolutely drop dead brunette with a nose ring and cowboy hat who was really into yoga and indian culture and was eroticizing him. I forgot to inform him that that was a bad thing, and he doesnÂ’t read SM, so sadly he allowed himself to be culturally raped by having sex with this super-hot stunner.
I ended up talking to 2 dominatrices who were showing me their feet. 5 free Manhattans later, I found myself in the elevator with Jared Leto and two chicks. JaredÂ’s face was really fat and he seemed short. He started talking to me but I forgot what he said. The dominatrices were more interesting.
Play on playa!
The bouncers are pros and are not going to be swayed night after night by women flirting with them. They are trained to let well-dressed, sexy and flirtatious women in. This is good for the business because the male patrons want to see more women, esp. that type of women there. Hence ladies nights etc. Businesses don’t want a reputation as a place where most people are male (and that’s what the crowd arriving at the door is like).
That should be “exoticizing.” Freudian Slip or distinction with no difference.
Manju, that isn’t your first story on SM where sex turns social discriminations into carnival mirror images of what they really are. Not that I’m against sex-positivity. I mean, I’d actually be impressed by you if you weren’t already so impressed by yourself. All I can say is: between the gender objectification and the ethnic exoticization, the fools in your stories deserve each other, and I end up not resenting their perverse happiness. So I guess your sensibilities win against the “sensitivity brigade” on the basis that all’s fair in fu*king and war.
What the hell is sex-positivity? Are sex-positivists those who like to fuk? And if fuk means fuck, can we print out the whole word like adults who’ve read our Miller and Nin? And if we use the word fuck, can we please drop the use of sex-positivism? So that those who ‘aren’t against sex-positivity’ become those who aren’t against fucking?
My favourite quote from the article:
Aww, there he goes, breaking the Desi GoodBoy stereotype one martini at a time…
He could have won a million spelling bees or software-writing competitions, but this, this, is just…priceless!
Cheers, Silva G…you made my day.
Cool story,
HanselManju.You do get props on the grammatically correct pluralization of “dominatrix”, though. Now excuse me as I dry my tears of boredom on some Kleenices.
That dude’s pathology is (IMO) much more entertaining than that of the Talented Mr. DeSilva, due to in part the videographic evidence of his outlandish claims. Keep in mind Mr. Vayner sent that film to various investment banks as an addendum to his 11 page (!) resume.
If he ever gets hired, I can only hope that he ends up at the same firm as Patrick Bateman.
Woah, chill.
First thing, positivism does not = positivity. Second, the concept of sex-positivity encompasses a lot more than just “fucking”, as you so delicately put it. It’s rooted in queer, gender and feminist theories because those schools take conventions about sexuality (i.e. rules about expression) as indicators of social roles and relations. Sex-positivity encourages sexual expression in whatever ways feel natural, meaning YOU choose whether you even want “fucking” to be a part of your sexuality. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not necessarily a free-for-all either. Most thinkers who subscribe to it believe that sex and sexuality should be toyed with in the compassionate sense — with love and humor and dignified defiance — and not in the soap opera, lack of awareness, or sleazy and misogynistic party-crasher-in-polyester sense.
For most people, sex-positivity is not intended to be a convention in itself, but rather to serve as a catalyst. It begs the question of how we generate our “common sense” about sexuality, and, thereby, challenges our conception of gender and gender roles.
Kapow.
This man is my hero!
One night this summer I went to a country-music concert in corpus christi. After the concert, we went to a authentic all-night diner for a nightcap. The waitress looked at my friend and asked if we were Ay-Rabs. I think he said we were Indian. So we ended up in the alley getting sticks up our butt. My friend then hooked up with an absolutely huge man with a nose ring and cowboy hat who was really into asses and indian men and was eroticizing him. I forgot to inform him that that was a bad thing, and he doesnÂ’t read SM-just is into S&M, so sadly he allowed himself to be culturally and physically raped by having sex with this super-huge bugger.
I ended up talking to 2 dominatrices who were showing me their whips. 5 free lashes later, I found myself in the elevator with two men. One’s arse was really fat and the other seemed small. They started talking to me but I forgot what they said. The dominatrices were more interesting.
Shruti with all due respect thats unnecessary overanalyzing. It’s sex with someone hot. Men get excited about their boys having sex with someone hot. Can we leave it at that?
JOAT, with all due respect, that wasn’t your unnecessarily irritated question I was trying to be patient with, it was DQ’s.
Um, what is?
…
Perhaps we should, for your sake.
Shruti I was referring to # 64 not #69.
The above reponse to a guy describing his friend’s sexual exploits was a tad bit too angry.
As much as I stay away from Bollywood remakes of Hollywood flicks, how much potential is there for a Desi version of Wedding Crashers??
Yeah I’m shocked they haven’t made it yet. It would cast Aftab Shivdasani & Saif Ali Khan! I hope they do it, it would be hilarious.
Shruti:
Nice! I always enjoy a good slam.
Alright, thanks for the clarification. #64 was more of an “eye-roll” comment than an angry one. You’ll notice I also referred to a similar story Manju had conveyed in the past (I can’t find it), and generally speaking, they seemed to me like backhanded dismissals of valid concerns about racism and misogyny. Perhaps I’m giving him too much credit, in which case I duly apologize. As for overanalyzing, I included the sex-positivity bit to avoid just that — you know, culture politics be damned, consensual sex still = good on some level. Anyway, happy morning.
No. You got it. Carnival of mirrors is just about right. Life can be quite a freakshow and not everything is how it seems at first glance. I think the story you’re looking for hit a 3rd rail and was removed. Bet it wasn’t Vinod.
Shruti:
Thanks for the eye-rolli…I mean explanation. Btw: ‘What the hell’ doesn’t equal irritated but amused in this case. (I was raised in Alberta, people use ‘what the hell’ all the time without causing diplomatic fracas.) First time I have heard anyone use such complicated language to describe something so simple. I’d be impressed if you weren’t so impressed with yourself (and your lingo).
Frankly, I’ve let myself be culturally raped by hot Oppressors a few times myself. Try it sometime. Doesn’t make the sex any less good.
stands up and applauds
exactly. perfectly said. He’s a crass, tacky, embarrassment to fellow Sri Lankans.
A country that’s unknown to most Americans, it would be great to direct attention to the Sri Lankan government’s corruption, the LTTE’ terrorist activity, tsunami aid, the archeological marvels, the distinct language, the country’s natural beauty, the beaches the mountains… but no. We get porn shops and this douchebag. fuck.
DJ Drrrty Poonjabi: That dude’s pathology is (IMO) much more entertaining than that of the Talented Mr. DeSilva
And according to a profile in the May ’02 issue of the Yale Rumpus (pgs. 12-13, see Craazy Prefrosh ) that detail his shenanigans before he was even a student at Yale, we can add a failure to be down with the brown to his list of transgressions!
He was going by Garber back then:
Desidawg, that was freakin’ hilarious! You just scorched his ass! You’re proving yourself to be a worthy successor to the much-beloved and sorely missed SpoorLam- keep it up.
rajito I read that article and saw the mention of the “vaguely racist remark.” (I wonder if it was macaca?) Did you watch his video?
Tru Dat. My ass is very hot.
Touche, good sport 🙂
Simple for your knee-jerk liberal, Sex-In-The-City feminism. Which is why I gratuitously elaborated. Nothing to do with any kind of love affair with my own dry language, just a way to avoid responding to your ill-mannered question in the like.
Btw, I don’t really care what people decide to do with themselves, but other people read this blog too, and I beg you not to use the word “rape” so liberally or with the implication that it may actually be something positive.
Shruti,
Don’t tell me they haven’t gotten to the classic feminine rape fantasy yet in your gender studies classes? Tsk tsk.
Whatev, DQ. Not gonna go down Jai’s path. Peace.
Dharma Queen, instead of Pardesi Gori, can I meet YOU?
I met him at this past Cannes Festival…he set up a meeting with my production office claiming to be a producer for Black Dalia, Crash and Motorcycle Diaries. He is quite the character and as much of a lush as the story claims him to be…but really after 3 minutes of talking with him you can figure out that he’s a con artist…I figuered we would know his name if he was truely an Oscar winning producer…but I took him lightly and and rolled my eyes at times…but on the fun side, he did talk his way into some great parties that I went to with him…but man, was he full of some great Bullsh*t stories about every famous person you could ever think of mentioning.