Everyone seems to be shocked by the results of this survey that says of the heterosexually identified participants, 10% are had sex with men.
I reckon they didn't ask the participants--especially the gay-identified ones--who the first man they had sex with was, and how did they know them? I'd be willing to bet that a significant amount of were men, who to this very day, identify as straight while still having sex with men.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Rewriting
Rewriting is one of those things that I absolutely hate. In all honesty, I don't see the point of it.
When I write, I get very meticulous. I analyse every single word choice and stage direction to make sure that it is what I want it to say. Scripts are like a house of cards: if you don't place them the right way, then it'll all fall down soon enough. When I finish the first draft, then it's done. I like to kill characters at the end as a big sign to myself to state just how finished I am with the story.
Yet, I find myself in the process of rewriting right now.
So what does that have to do with Luther?*
*And by the way, I would not have known that there were two versions of this video, had I not just seen it this morning on VH1 Classic. That one had no split screen and focused on the white woman a bit more than this one, which focuses on the black woman more. Racial politics at work in Luther Vandross videos, who knew?
Well, Luther, in my view, is an icon of rewriting. He went from small to large to small to large (and so on and so forth). He went from "just waiting for the right woman" to "I'm not talking about it," to "everybody knows and why do we need to talk about it?" The fact of the matter is that we have to talk about it sooner or later. If we don't talk about it, then we're left with the status quo which forced us into the position that caused us to shut our mouths in the first place.
I'm not just talking about homosexuality here, but it certainly applies.
For all the attention to detail and style that I put forth in a play, making sure that every thing is in just right the place, the fact of the matter is that there always a better way to shore it up so that the story and characters stay put even when they get shook around. Likewise, you can craft a facade and relationship with the outside world that may be a lie or a partial truth, but will it withstand the test of time?
No, it won't.
So we rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite until at some point we die. Even then, we are rewritten as other's observations and memories run contrary to our own self-perceptions. The thought at first filled me dread, because don't we all want to be around to defend ourselves and our viewpoints? Then I paused for a second and really started examining the notion: If I write something, then isn't important that I be willing to return to it, if only to be able to explain it with more knowledge than I have at the moment? In addition, shouldn't we be able to take in new information and perspectives without it damaging our sense of self?
Now, this might seem to run contrary to what I said about Evangelion earlier, but I don't think so. (See, I'm rewriting!) Part of the rewriting process, in my view, is being willing to let go and say it truly has been worked on enough by me.
Monday, September 11, 2006
It Seems Oddly Appropriate
...for today that I stumbled across this tidbit of news about there being four new Evangelion movies planned.
Colour me skeptical, but hasn't everything been said in that series...at least in a plot and character sense? Not to mention, it can't be good for Anno to keep on returning to a story that is essentially charting his descent into psychosis.
Don't get me wrong, I think he's a genius (the show--in particular the homoerotically charged final episodes--inspired me as a writer more than I will ever fully know), but for that reason alone I'd be more interested in seeing him continue on with new work.
Of course, I'll still buy the dern things when they get released...which is the most likely reason as to why they're making them.
The Heartbreaker Summer continues.
Colour me skeptical, but hasn't everything been said in that series...at least in a plot and character sense? Not to mention, it can't be good for Anno to keep on returning to a story that is essentially charting his descent into psychosis.
Don't get me wrong, I think he's a genius (the show--in particular the homoerotically charged final episodes--inspired me as a writer more than I will ever fully know), but for that reason alone I'd be more interested in seeing him continue on with new work.
Of course, I'll still buy the dern things when they get released...which is the most likely reason as to why they're making them.
The Heartbreaker Summer continues.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Weekend Jukebox Continues The Fight
...against Disaster Porn Weekend.
This time it's a trio of videos from the excellent interval of Dora 2003, which had the group Divas singing with 4 Croatian divas.
First up, Divas & Radojka Šverko singing "Oprosti Mi." Radojka has got a killer voice, but seems to favour the Shelley Morrison as Rosario look.
Next, Divas sing with the pink-haired Josipa Lisac, the original singer of "Danas Sam Luda."
Finally, the big group song (it's worth wading through the minute long introduction) where Divas and the four Divas sing "Sexy Cool."
This time it's a trio of videos from the excellent interval of Dora 2003, which had the group Divas singing with 4 Croatian divas.
First up, Divas & Radojka Šverko singing "Oprosti Mi." Radojka has got a killer voice, but seems to favour the Shelley Morrison as Rosario look.
Next, Divas sing with the pink-haired Josipa Lisac, the original singer of "Danas Sam Luda."
Finally, the big group song (it's worth wading through the minute long introduction) where Divas and the four Divas sing "Sexy Cool."
Friday, September 08, 2006
Friday Jukebox In Albania
My way of combatting the September 11th distaster/grief porn that will dominate the airwaves through Monday.
Apparently the 1990's are thriving in Albania
Nor the 1980's
Albania's answer to Celine Dion (I didn't even know she was a question)
And pageant hair has reached the Balkans...along with rampant screeching!
Many thanks to Sims for the videos.
Apparently the 1990's are thriving in Albania
Nor the 1980's
Albania's answer to Celine Dion (I didn't even know she was a question)
And pageant hair has reached the Balkans...along with rampant screeching!
Many thanks to Sims for the videos.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Remember, Remember the Fifth of September
So there's this article on AfterElton about Gravitation written by this playwright, and it's not too shabby.
It's a good read, I reckon.
It's a good read, I reckon.
Monday, September 04, 2006
This Was Summer 2006
All the political news, pop culture events, and everything in between that occurred this summer can be summed up in this song.
Bring on autumn.
Bring on autumn.
Monday, August 28, 2006
The Many Faces of the Caribbean
The uneasiness that I felt being a cruise passenger in the Caribbean has some merit.
From Kristoffer A. Garin's Devils on the Deep Blue Sea:
"Beginning with the marketing of the islands themselves, much of the Caribbean cruise tourist's experience is as tightly orchestrated an affair as any Disney World trip with the locale nothing more than beguiling scenery...This Caribbean is more a simulation than a genuine place--a real -life theme park composed of resorts sealed away behind fences and armed guards, of air conditioned touring vans whose pith-helmeted drivers and guides whisk you through the places where local people live en route to this beach, or that charter boat, or this 'colorful' straw market where ladies in bandannas hawk 'local' crafts, with not a local customer in sight. Indeed, most of the major cruise lines have taken long-term leases on private islands where they can treat their passengers to a version of the Caribbean 'as it's meant to be' without any inconvenient interruption from the locals.
"Not that Caribbean cruises are actually marketed as opportunities to learn about the places themselves. Leafing through the glossy brochures, one would never guess that the region's nearly forty million people share an economic, military, and social history that, from slaves, sugar, and rum to the Monroe Doctrine and gunboat diplomacy, is inseparable from that of the United States itself.
"The Caribbean's allure, instead is presented as generic, an opportunity for 'castaways' from the United States to let their hair down for a week in a carefully constructed Eden--to leave behind the stresses and complexities of their everyday lives. To the extent that a sales pitch mentions the character of local life at all, it's usually to paint a picture of a touchingly simple folk, who for all the appear to hold no dearer wish than to welcome yet another tourist to their unthreateningly primitive world--and put an umbrella drink in his hand. Tucked away, out of frame, are the armed guards patrolling the beachy borders of this wonderland, there to protect visiting eyes from the far less photogenic reality: of unemployment rates as high as 20 percent, of political frustrations nutured by centuries under corrupt, inept, to cruel rulers, of the resentments held by peoples who after two generations of political independence are still hopelessly unequal players in the arenas of international trade and diplomacy.
From Kristoffer A. Garin's Devils on the Deep Blue Sea:
"Beginning with the marketing of the islands themselves, much of the Caribbean cruise tourist's experience is as tightly orchestrated an affair as any Disney World trip with the locale nothing more than beguiling scenery...This Caribbean is more a simulation than a genuine place--a real -life theme park composed of resorts sealed away behind fences and armed guards, of air conditioned touring vans whose pith-helmeted drivers and guides whisk you through the places where local people live en route to this beach, or that charter boat, or this 'colorful' straw market where ladies in bandannas hawk 'local' crafts, with not a local customer in sight. Indeed, most of the major cruise lines have taken long-term leases on private islands where they can treat their passengers to a version of the Caribbean 'as it's meant to be' without any inconvenient interruption from the locals.
"Not that Caribbean cruises are actually marketed as opportunities to learn about the places themselves. Leafing through the glossy brochures, one would never guess that the region's nearly forty million people share an economic, military, and social history that, from slaves, sugar, and rum to the Monroe Doctrine and gunboat diplomacy, is inseparable from that of the United States itself.
"The Caribbean's allure, instead is presented as generic, an opportunity for 'castaways' from the United States to let their hair down for a week in a carefully constructed Eden--to leave behind the stresses and complexities of their everyday lives. To the extent that a sales pitch mentions the character of local life at all, it's usually to paint a picture of a touchingly simple folk, who for all the appear to hold no dearer wish than to welcome yet another tourist to their unthreateningly primitive world--and put an umbrella drink in his hand. Tucked away, out of frame, are the armed guards patrolling the beachy borders of this wonderland, there to protect visiting eyes from the far less photogenic reality: of unemployment rates as high as 20 percent, of political frustrations nutured by centuries under corrupt, inept, to cruel rulers, of the resentments held by peoples who after two generations of political independence are still hopelessly unequal players in the arenas of international trade and diplomacy.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Tourism Industry? What Tourism Industry?
The bigoted amendment going up for a vote in Wisconsin may kill (or at least severely maim) the state's tourism industry.
I just have to ask: what tourism industry are they talking about? The Dells? Lake Geneva? I always got the impression that whatever tourist attractions there are in Wisconsin were basically patronised by other Wisconsinites with a dash of Illinois and/or Minnesota residents.
Apart from the fact that the amendment is just enshrining bigotry, I think this is a much better reason to vote no.
I just have to ask: what tourism industry are they talking about? The Dells? Lake Geneva? I always got the impression that whatever tourist attractions there are in Wisconsin were basically patronised by other Wisconsinites with a dash of Illinois and/or Minnesota residents.
Apart from the fact that the amendment is just enshrining bigotry, I think this is a much better reason to vote no.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Seven Wishes
Four fantastical and three realistic; give it a whirl.
The fantastical
The fantastical
- The ability to be a total chameleon, in other words, change height, weight, gender, even orientation for a brief period of time.
- A successful singing career.
- Fluency in 10 languages other than English.
- Telepathy.
The realistic
- 24 hours with Aaron Tanner & Aiden Shaw.
- 2 shows on the CBC.
- A majority SP-USA Congress.
One of these things will happen in my lifetime.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Import More Gay Television Personalities!
I don't know what happened but yet another gay television personality is leaving New York [local] television.
Sam Champion is jumping to GMA, a jump that will not include doing local weather duties apparently.
I say he's a wimp--a perfectly nice guy, but still a wimp. Al Roker and Matt Lauer did double duty for quite some time. Janice Huff continues to work practically every day if you combine her WNBC schedule with her Weekend Today schedule. (Mr. Champion, that means she does the late night weather then gets up early in the morning to do it nationwide.)
Attention New York Station Managers: You heard the mission, now get to the hiring.
Sam Champion is jumping to GMA, a jump that will not include doing local weather duties apparently.
I say he's a wimp--a perfectly nice guy, but still a wimp. Al Roker and Matt Lauer did double duty for quite some time. Janice Huff continues to work practically every day if you combine her WNBC schedule with her Weekend Today schedule. (Mr. Champion, that means she does the late night weather then gets up early in the morning to do it nationwide.)
Attention New York Station Managers: You heard the mission, now get to the hiring.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Thursday Jukebox Is Traveling
Just one video today, but it's a good one. The other Hikaru's "traveling"
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The View-Splash-The View Post-Mortem: It's Good To Be Home
Really it is.
It's all the friendliness of Chicago combined with the certain "life is tough" aspect of New York.
I know I'm happy to be home, because not even the go-go boys thrusting their crotches in my face while I sucked down San Pelligrinos got on my nerves. In fact, they added onto the night.
No Cypriot action tonight, so that even made it for a more fun and friviolous night.
And then there's The View.
I was seriously in danger of getting blotto there because they kept on mplaying great video after great video. By the time that Kylie Minogue rolled around I knew I had to pry myself away.
(Before La Minogue they played a dance remix of Mary J. Blige--no, not the one you're thinking of--a video that seemed to involve Mary being surrounded by men dancing shirtless, in other words the "Mary is a gay diva and you'd better realise" video.)
All I can say is that life is very good at home. I can tell it's a good night when I come home optimistic. Perhaps I need to check if I've reached official New York resident status.
Will you have me New York?
It's all the friendliness of Chicago combined with the certain "life is tough" aspect of New York.
I know I'm happy to be home, because not even the go-go boys thrusting their crotches in my face while I sucked down San Pelligrinos got on my nerves. In fact, they added onto the night.
No Cypriot action tonight, so that even made it for a more fun and friviolous night.
And then there's The View.
I was seriously in danger of getting blotto there because they kept on mplaying great video after great video. By the time that Kylie Minogue rolled around I knew I had to pry myself away.
(Before La Minogue they played a dance remix of Mary J. Blige--no, not the one you're thinking of--a video that seemed to involve Mary being surrounded by men dancing shirtless, in other words the "Mary is a gay diva and you'd better realise" video.)
All I can say is that life is very good at home. I can tell it's a good night when I come home optimistic. Perhaps I need to check if I've reached official New York resident status.
Will you have me New York?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Chicago Post-Mortem Part II: And We End On A High Note
No, not that sort of high.
When I came back to Chicago on Sunday I had one goal in mind: clear the residue from last week, and by god, I succeeded.
Perhaps making up for the horrors that befell me in Milwaukee on Saturday night, I found Chicagoans on this Sunday to be extremely friendly.
First off I went to Roscoe's, where for some reason the very amiable bartender kept buying me drinks and saying "welcome back to the Midwest."
More like welcome back to civilisation.
I knew that I was in for a good night when the video for my favourite dance song (and yes, I get the irony of it being a dance song) ever came on. Yes, they played "Gypsy Woman."
Next, the infamous Sidetrack, where an aging punk from San Diego travelling to see the Drum Corps in Madison (it's his logic, not mine) explained the difference between Drum Corps and Colour Guard to my uneducated ears. I inquired about San Diego and he told me that according to Angelenos, San Diego is the poseur capital of California. Apparently you can dress like a punk in San Diego, but if you dare slam dance into them, they will have a shit-fit.
I took a break to go to the Lucky Horseshoe, because frankly stuffing dollar bills into go-go boys is a vacation tradition of mine. It was...well...dead. I'm not a fan of dead strip bars, because then I start feeling guilty and give tips to go-go boys who don't really do it for me. So I did. Next thing I know, the lonely go-go boy starts talking to me after his set.
He's a grad student of English Composition! So that made the conversation flow.
I decided to return to Sidetrack, given that a huge chunk of time had passed.
Fortunately, the musical fetish had melted away and in its place was 1960's/1970's campy songs.
And the heavens shout forth "Hallelujah!"
Insanely crowded, I asked to sit near a guy who seemed to be solo. Turned out he was part of a triumvirate, but not a nasty Milwaukee one. In fact, this triumvirate was very warm and welcoming. So much so that at one point one of them asked me how I knew the others, and when I told him that I was just sitting there having a drink he was completely surprised. Such was the comfort level.
I moved on downstairs to have a cigarette. Probably since I was on vacation and my normal defenses were non-existent, I lent one to a drunk and scruffy ex-bartender from Detroit. Well his book didn't match his cover, I'll say.
Turns out that he was torn up six ways from Sunday over a lawyer with biceps "the size of [his] head." Whether or not I wanted to, he was going to give me the back story. It certainly was a fascinating one, even if my own romantic side is repressed (for the most part). I'll spare you the details, partly for brevity and partly due to the fact that I can't really recall what they were beyond the fact that Lawyer Biceps was well known and Scruffy had to steel himself not to be paranoid about it--hence the drunken state.
What I do remember is this: not but a half-hour later Scruffy & I were exchanging the hugs that generally are the province of long-lost best friends. I actually offered to pray (in my own way) that he and Lawyer Biceps get it together. Even more shocking, Scruffy & I could not break the embrace for 10 minutes. He was tearing, I was overrun with a rare case of goodwill to "strangers," it was like Wonderland.
Maybe we should all get to that Wonderland ASAP.
When I came back to Chicago on Sunday I had one goal in mind: clear the residue from last week, and by god, I succeeded.
Perhaps making up for the horrors that befell me in Milwaukee on Saturday night, I found Chicagoans on this Sunday to be extremely friendly.
First off I went to Roscoe's, where for some reason the very amiable bartender kept buying me drinks and saying "welcome back to the Midwest."
More like welcome back to civilisation.
I knew that I was in for a good night when the video for my favourite dance song (and yes, I get the irony of it being a dance song) ever came on. Yes, they played "Gypsy Woman."
Next, the infamous Sidetrack, where an aging punk from San Diego travelling to see the Drum Corps in Madison (it's his logic, not mine) explained the difference between Drum Corps and Colour Guard to my uneducated ears. I inquired about San Diego and he told me that according to Angelenos, San Diego is the poseur capital of California. Apparently you can dress like a punk in San Diego, but if you dare slam dance into them, they will have a shit-fit.
I took a break to go to the Lucky Horseshoe, because frankly stuffing dollar bills into go-go boys is a vacation tradition of mine. It was...well...dead. I'm not a fan of dead strip bars, because then I start feeling guilty and give tips to go-go boys who don't really do it for me. So I did. Next thing I know, the lonely go-go boy starts talking to me after his set.
He's a grad student of English Composition! So that made the conversation flow.
I decided to return to Sidetrack, given that a huge chunk of time had passed.
Fortunately, the musical fetish had melted away and in its place was 1960's/1970's campy songs.
And the heavens shout forth "Hallelujah!"
Insanely crowded, I asked to sit near a guy who seemed to be solo. Turned out he was part of a triumvirate, but not a nasty Milwaukee one. In fact, this triumvirate was very warm and welcoming. So much so that at one point one of them asked me how I knew the others, and when I told him that I was just sitting there having a drink he was completely surprised. Such was the comfort level.
I moved on downstairs to have a cigarette. Probably since I was on vacation and my normal defenses were non-existent, I lent one to a drunk and scruffy ex-bartender from Detroit. Well his book didn't match his cover, I'll say.
Turns out that he was torn up six ways from Sunday over a lawyer with biceps "the size of [his] head." Whether or not I wanted to, he was going to give me the back story. It certainly was a fascinating one, even if my own romantic side is repressed (for the most part). I'll spare you the details, partly for brevity and partly due to the fact that I can't really recall what they were beyond the fact that Lawyer Biceps was well known and Scruffy had to steel himself not to be paranoid about it--hence the drunken state.
What I do remember is this: not but a half-hour later Scruffy & I were exchanging the hugs that generally are the province of long-lost best friends. I actually offered to pray (in my own way) that he and Lawyer Biceps get it together. Even more shocking, Scruffy & I could not break the embrace for 10 minutes. He was tearing, I was overrun with a rare case of goodwill to "strangers," it was like Wonderland.
Maybe we should all get to that Wonderland ASAP.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Is There A Gay Anchor Quota On New York Local News?
Seems like it, because Charles Perez is leaving, right after Ron Corning is announced as the new co-anchor for Good Day New York.
NB: Eric Braate will not be joining GDNY, which is a good thing for this piece of the internet which seems to be heavily favoured amongst both the Ron Corning and Eric Braate* rabid fans.
* Who knew an ex-weatherman from Milwaukee television was so well...um..searched?
It's also somewhat of a bad thing, since I can envision heads exploding if Ron Corning, Eric Braate, and Mike Woods were on one programme. Personally, I'd enjoy seeing all the shade being thrown about as karma for the way Jim Castillo was so unceremoniously dumped.
NB: Eric Braate will not be joining GDNY, which is a good thing for this piece of the internet which seems to be heavily favoured amongst both the Ron Corning and Eric Braate* rabid fans.
* Who knew an ex-weatherman from Milwaukee television was so well...um..searched?
It's also somewhat of a bad thing, since I can envision heads exploding if Ron Corning, Eric Braate, and Mike Woods were on one programme. Personally, I'd enjoy seeing all the shade being thrown about as karma for the way Jim Castillo was so unceremoniously dumped.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
From The "I Just Know This Will Be A Glorious Disaster" File
The local NBC affiliate in Milwaukee is going to have a chat show that will air after the revamped Today.
Chicago Post-Mortem: Did You Know That I Hate Showtune Nights?
(This could possibly be a two-part post-mortem as I'm returning to Chicago next week after staying in Milwaukee for awhile.)
With all due respect to San Francisco, I would hazard to say that Chicago now holds the title of Gayest City in the US--at least for 2006.
Not but two weeks after the Gay Games completed, Chicago's Boystown held Market Days which seemed to me as being a rather spread out version of the Street Fair that takes over the West Village during Pride.
Combined with Lollapalooza being in town, no wonder it was impossible to find a hotel room.
Travelogue over, let's get to the sordid stuff.
The night after Market Days, I found myself in a bar socialising with two men: one originally from La Crosse and the other a married (to a woman) man from Toronto. Since I'm on vacation, I figured this would be my one chance to put my beliefs to work and slowly chip away at his have-his-cake and eat-it-too attitude*, since this wasn't a case of having a relaxed straight man visiting the gay bars with his friend--in fact, he had only met Mr. Ex-LaX earlier that evening.
* Since you catch more flies with honey, the plan was to get him to breakdown by the end of the night. I know, I'm evil.
Let me say this, it is hard to employ militant gay strategy when you have been drinking since 3 PM.
Ex-LaX, Cake-Eater, and I eventually got into a cab to head up to Sidetracks, which apparently (according to Ex-LaX) was the pretty people's bar. I would call it a S & M bar, as in "stand and model." Unfortunately, it was showtune night. I hate showtune nights. I hate them with a passion. Yet, I was focused on my strategy, albeit rather slowly.
Ex-LaX took off, leaving Cake-Eater & I to our own devices. (FYI: I wasn't even remotely thinking of going there for personal reasons.) Cake-Eater was like a kid in a candy store. This boggled my mind: This man lives in Toronto and is amazed by a gay bar in Chicago? I mean, Queer as Folk was filmed in Toronto, it can't be that radically different, and Toronto isn't a small town where everybody knows you.
From this point onwards, it was a carousel of threesomes. First, we got latched on by a very drunk French Canadian who made sure that everybody within earshot knew that his rear end was well-used. After he departed, then another drunk guy--this time from Miami--joined in. He mostly was babbling, but the majority of his observations seemed to revolve around hotness, dick size, and my ethnicity.
Oh yes, ethnic fetisation is the perfect way to get someone to sleep with you.
Apparently Cake-Eater was of the similar mindset as the drunk Miamian, since he sunk his teeth and tongue into a 21 year old Latin guy who launched into a tourist board spiel for Chicago.
And then Madonna's "Don't cry for me, Argentina" came on and the 21 year old flew into a frenzy and dragged us into another area of the bar. Here, our threesome became a foursome as a man from Gary, Indiana latched onto me and started talking rapidfire about all sorts of things ranging from an apparent tradition of throwing napkins in the air during the climax of "Don't cry for me, Argentina" to his mother informing the family of their father's death on Christmas with a straight face,' and did you know that "[he] was a lover, not a fighter, like all Aquarians." (Not this Aquarian.)
By this point, my heart was running a mile a minute and I was feeling nauseous, so I decided that health had to come before agitprop theatrics. The 21 year old was busy trying to get into Cake-Eater's pants by a series of pouts and slight whining.
It was time to make my move.
I had it all planned out: I was going to lean in, brush Cake-Eater's stomach, say "your wife hired me," and leave then and there.
That was the plan.
In reality, what happened is that I burped and said "ugh, I got to go."
At least, my heart was in the right place.
Welcome to the Midwest.
With all due respect to San Francisco, I would hazard to say that Chicago now holds the title of Gayest City in the US--at least for 2006.
Not but two weeks after the Gay Games completed, Chicago's Boystown held Market Days which seemed to me as being a rather spread out version of the Street Fair that takes over the West Village during Pride.
Combined with Lollapalooza being in town, no wonder it was impossible to find a hotel room.
Travelogue over, let's get to the sordid stuff.
The night after Market Days, I found myself in a bar socialising with two men: one originally from La Crosse and the other a married (to a woman) man from Toronto. Since I'm on vacation, I figured this would be my one chance to put my beliefs to work and slowly chip away at his have-his-cake and eat-it-too attitude*, since this wasn't a case of having a relaxed straight man visiting the gay bars with his friend--in fact, he had only met Mr. Ex-LaX earlier that evening.
* Since you catch more flies with honey, the plan was to get him to breakdown by the end of the night. I know, I'm evil.
Let me say this, it is hard to employ militant gay strategy when you have been drinking since 3 PM.
Ex-LaX, Cake-Eater, and I eventually got into a cab to head up to Sidetracks, which apparently (according to Ex-LaX) was the pretty people's bar. I would call it a S & M bar, as in "stand and model." Unfortunately, it was showtune night. I hate showtune nights. I hate them with a passion. Yet, I was focused on my strategy, albeit rather slowly.
Ex-LaX took off, leaving Cake-Eater & I to our own devices. (FYI: I wasn't even remotely thinking of going there for personal reasons.) Cake-Eater was like a kid in a candy store. This boggled my mind: This man lives in Toronto and is amazed by a gay bar in Chicago? I mean, Queer as Folk was filmed in Toronto, it can't be that radically different, and Toronto isn't a small town where everybody knows you.
From this point onwards, it was a carousel of threesomes. First, we got latched on by a very drunk French Canadian who made sure that everybody within earshot knew that his rear end was well-used. After he departed, then another drunk guy--this time from Miami--joined in. He mostly was babbling, but the majority of his observations seemed to revolve around hotness, dick size, and my ethnicity.
Oh yes, ethnic fetisation is the perfect way to get someone to sleep with you.
Apparently Cake-Eater was of the similar mindset as the drunk Miamian, since he sunk his teeth and tongue into a 21 year old Latin guy who launched into a tourist board spiel for Chicago.
And then Madonna's "Don't cry for me, Argentina" came on and the 21 year old flew into a frenzy and dragged us into another area of the bar. Here, our threesome became a foursome as a man from Gary, Indiana latched onto me and started talking rapidfire about all sorts of things ranging from an apparent tradition of throwing napkins in the air during the climax of "Don't cry for me, Argentina" to his mother informing the family of their father's death on Christmas with a straight face,' and did you know that "[he] was a lover, not a fighter, like all Aquarians." (Not this Aquarian.)
By this point, my heart was running a mile a minute and I was feeling nauseous, so I decided that health had to come before agitprop theatrics. The 21 year old was busy trying to get into Cake-Eater's pants by a series of pouts and slight whining.
It was time to make my move.
I had it all planned out: I was going to lean in, brush Cake-Eater's stomach, say "your wife hired me," and leave then and there.
That was the plan.
In reality, what happened is that I burped and said "ugh, I got to go."
At least, my heart was in the right place.
Welcome to the Midwest.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Before I Walk Off Into The Sunrise
It's five in the morning as I write this, so I couldn't very well write "sunset."
I'm off to the Midwest (alright, Chicago & Milwaukee) for the next week, to (mostly) sit down and knock out some writing; however, I stumbled across this article in The Daily News and found it both surprising and not-so-surprising.
I think the same would apply to a lot of black boys as well.
If this film gets wide distribution, I think we all should see it regardless of gender or ethnicity.
I'm off to the Midwest (alright, Chicago & Milwaukee) for the next week, to (mostly) sit down and knock out some writing; however, I stumbled across this article in The Daily News and found it both surprising and not-so-surprising.
I think the same would apply to a lot of black boys as well.
If this film gets wide distribution, I think we all should see it regardless of gender or ethnicity.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I'll Judge The Book By Its Cover, Thank You Very Much
I'll admit it, I write all of this with a heavy dose of bitterness. It is the bitterness that every writer or behind-the-scenes creative feels when you hear or see someone's trashy, sub-par, half-baked work get some traction while yours doesn't.
A good person uses this as an impetus to try harder.
I am not a good person on a Friday morning. I am in the mood to read some fools, and I'm not talking about in a newspaper.
(A disclaimer: I am willing to revise my opinions, but when you do write ups, you have to realise that you're putting the baggage out in front of the marquee.)
Like most things that piss me off, the source of my anger stems from The New York Blade. This time, it's their article on The New York International Fringe Festival, and for once, it's not The Blade's fault that I'm angry.
In the article The Blade gives a few blurbs about this year's gay and lesbian themed shows. Well, I have to say is that most of these shows look smellier than day-old excrement.
A good person uses this as an impetus to try harder.
I am not a good person on a Friday morning. I am in the mood to read some fools, and I'm not talking about in a newspaper.
(A disclaimer: I am willing to revise my opinions, but when you do write ups, you have to realise that you're putting the baggage out in front of the marquee.)
Like most things that piss me off, the source of my anger stems from The New York Blade. This time, it's their article on The New York International Fringe Festival, and for once, it's not The Blade's fault that I'm angry.
In the article The Blade gives a few blurbs about this year's gay and lesbian themed shows. Well, I have to say is that most of these shows look smellier than day-old excrement.
- Romancing The Terrorist: Tajiki Nights - The American president falls in love with a gay Tajik terrorist. I understand satire. I understand absurdism, but this just seems daft as hell. By the way, unless it's a musical, anything that has two authors attached to it is to be avoided like syphilis.
- Don't Ask - An affair between two army men set during the Iraqi War. This actually looks interesting if the execution focuses on the characters as opposed to their situation. Since it's part of the "experimental" group (read: "we just slapped this together and called it art"), I don't hold my hopes up.
- The Saints of Festus - Missouri women get drunk and go wild. Three words that will strike fear into my heart: one. man. show. One man shows are like watching watching solo masturbation porn videos, but even dirtier since you're not allowed to clean yourself up after the writer and performer (even worse when they're the same person) has ejaculated their ego and "aren't I talented?" all over you.
- Blue Balls: In and OUT of Uniform with the NYPD - "Neighbourhood Sissy joins New York's Finest." The fact that this is billed as an "arresting new comedy" makes me think that this will have all the depth of a David Spade/Rob Schneider/Pauly Shore movie with a cameo by Carrot Top. I'm not saying that this couldn't be a comedy--in fact, I think it would be refreshing to see this subject treated with a light flourish instead of the expected "woe is me" sturm-und-drang drama. However, once I read that this is based on the playwright's own experience, the frist thing that came into my head was that this was going to be a revenge play. You know, the kind where you can just sense that the playwright is basically going to make himself out to be the unassailable hero devoid of flaws living in a world full of idiots.
- The Return of the Wayward Son - Bedroom stories from hustlers and their johns. Just read who the sponsor is. I actually like dark stories about prostitution, one of my most favourite plays that I've written is about a male prostitute and he's the protagonist (like a dark, cynical version of Irma La Douce). All that said, how much honesty and character depth could be attached to this piece given that one of the sponsors most likely doesn't quite want all the warts to be shown. By the way, you can write "phantasmagoria" all you want, it still has the air of slapdash writing job on it given the "experimental" classification (see above). Ironically, given the play's genesis, much of what I wrote above about Blue Balls (in respect to unassailable heroes) would apply here.
- Rainy Days & Mondays - Nice Jewish boy(tm) turns circuit queen during the nineties. Based on the website this show looks like style before substance ad infinitum. Kind of like the film Circuit, which--let's be honest here--was basically nothing but good-looking men romping about with an acrid script with good cinematography. Still, based on the playwright's pedigree, I'll grant him that this script is better than Shafer's. But...Jesus wept! The synopsis makes me want to retch! There is a black character who is described as "a sassy Southern African American 'baby boy let loose with a trust fund.'" For starters, "sassy?" Let us just ponder this for a second. How many more "sassy" black characters in gay film and theatre do we need before we actually start getting complex black characters? We don't need to be heroes, but for pete's sake, could we not be the "truth tellin', shut-yo'-mouth" bitchy queens for once? Then there's another character described as "an Adonis from the Midwest with no sexual boundaries." Like that archetype is completely new and fascinating. It's rather ironic that the synopsis claims that "this is not your typical salacious gay play with boys running around in their underwear," since I'd be shocked if it isn't given that summary.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Where's The Picture?
Three stations in New York happily tout that they have HD cameras installed on their helicopters.
And yet, we rarely ever see them.
It's no secret that I watch a lot of Fox 5*, which is home to "Skyfox HD." Whenever they cut to their helicopter, the anchors are always keen to mention "Skyfox HD," as if the moniker has been there from the get go.
* I need local news in the morning delivered by people who aren't obsessively perky and neutered. Plus, how else can I poke fun of Mike Woods on a daily basis?
Well, it has been months since I've seen any HD pictures off Skyfox HD.
Now, I'll be honest here, this is a rather tedious point to nitpick, but I find it rather interesting that a station that is now home to Arnold Diaz and his "Shame on You" reports, should probably have that wagging finger turned on itself.
Either stop flogging the sodding thing or turn the damn camera on.
Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce.
And yet, we rarely ever see them.
It's no secret that I watch a lot of Fox 5*, which is home to "Skyfox HD." Whenever they cut to their helicopter, the anchors are always keen to mention "Skyfox HD," as if the moniker has been there from the get go.
* I need local news in the morning delivered by people who aren't obsessively perky and neutered. Plus, how else can I poke fun of Mike Woods on a daily basis?
Well, it has been months since I've seen any HD pictures off Skyfox HD.
Now, I'll be honest here, this is a rather tedious point to nitpick, but I find it rather interesting that a station that is now home to Arnold Diaz and his "Shame on You" reports, should probably have that wagging finger turned on itself.
Either stop flogging the sodding thing or turn the damn camera on.
Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce.
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