Maybe it's me, but if you're holding auditions for The Biggest Loser, you shouldn't have them in a brewery--even if it is in Milwaukee.
(Thanks to Tim Cuprisin's phenmomenal blog for this info.)
Friday, January 12, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Better Than The Closet (Part Two)
The DL Chronicles, which will be coming to here in the near future.
The fact that lead actor Darren Schnase is genuinely sexy as hell has nothing whatsoever to do with me applauding this.
No, nothing whatsoever.
Read Rod 2.0 for more information on The DL Chronicles.
The fact that lead actor Darren Schnase is genuinely sexy as hell has nothing whatsoever to do with me applauding this.
No, nothing whatsoever.
Read Rod 2.0 for more information on The DL Chronicles.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
The View-Splash Post-Mortem: Drinking With The Ex
Ugh!
Never again.
As much as there is to be said for maintaining amicable relations, the long, protracted silences wherein he tries to complete a thought just drive my "say what you mean, and say it fast" self up a wall, and remind me of how good it is to be single again.
On the upside, one thing I have discovered that is true: go-go boys and opportunists will flock to a tall, skinny white man like moths to a flame.
That is a problem I certainly do not want to ever have, since 9 times out of 10, I just want to watch some music videos and take in the barely whispered conversations between the patrons and the steroided.
Never again.
As much as there is to be said for maintaining amicable relations, the long, protracted silences wherein he tries to complete a thought just drive my "say what you mean, and say it fast" self up a wall, and remind me of how good it is to be single again.
On the upside, one thing I have discovered that is true: go-go boys and opportunists will flock to a tall, skinny white man like moths to a flame.
That is a problem I certainly do not want to ever have, since 9 times out of 10, I just want to watch some music videos and take in the barely whispered conversations between the patrons and the steroided.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Sunday Jukebox Has New Stress
In...In...In...In...In...In honour of the upcoming Eurovision season and to...to...to...to...to...to celebrate the New Year, here...here...here...here...here...here's a re-envisioning of Stress.
Is it wrong that I find Odd somewhat attractive?
Is it wrong that I find Odd somewhat attractive?
Friday, January 05, 2007
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
The View-Barracuda Post-Mortem: Archetypes
Still euphoric after the New Year's random encounters, I tried to get back into normal operating mode--in other words, getting to The View ASAP.
Go figure that not even after finishing one Twisted Tea: I get shanghaied by a man claiming to be Martha Stewart's vet. Even (partially) out of commission: he takes me to Barracuda and embarks on a mission to get into my pants. These days, however; that will not happen.
What's this man like? Keen to mention that he is wearing Gucci Shoes and carrying a Prada bag.
I think that about says all.
Go figure that not even after finishing one Twisted Tea: I get shanghaied by a man claiming to be Martha Stewart's vet. Even (partially) out of commission: he takes me to Barracuda and embarks on a mission to get into my pants. These days, however; that will not happen.
What's this man like? Keen to mention that he is wearing Gucci Shoes and carrying a Prada bag.
I think that about says all.
Monday, January 01, 2007
The Splash-The View Post-Mortem: Happy New Year's from me and my happy___
...ass, to use a phrase from Ghost Stories.
I'll be honest with you, something that was bound to happen did occur: I literally lost my shirt. I had the requisite amount of liquor that enabled me to get over my inhibitions and dance like I didn't care.
And indeed I didn't care. I didn't care to the point that I let my shirt go and fly out of my waist and into the confetti-laden floor.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The main event of the evening is that I had my very first New Year's kiss--at Splash no less.
Y'see, New Year's for me has traditionally been the South Park marathon and a bottle of plum wine in Wisconsin because I didn't want to deal with the chaos of New York on New Year's Eve. For some reason--which I can't explain, but am grateful for--I decided to finally spend New Year's at my present home.
I'm floating on Cloud 9 at the moment, so this will be a rambling post-mortem. Through a series of strange circumstances I did wind up literally dancing with the one who "brung" me, but I didn't dance metaphorically with the one that brung me. Granted that's a strange metaphor, but it's the only way I can explain it at the moment.
When I came to Splash at 8, I was seized upon by a guy, whom I'll call L. L happened to sport my kryptonite, which is black-rimmed glasses. At the time it seemed like L & myself were probably going to be a pair for the evening, but after I stepped outside for a bit, L suggested that I "circulate." Being dutiful, I did. Well, I plopped myself in my usual spot and wound up talking to a guy whom I'll call Q. Q also wore glasses and happened to also be a performance writer as well. Since Splash is only huge by New York standards, it was inevitable that L & Q were bound to meet, thus bringing forth a war between my mind and my loins, with Q winning that battle since the entrance to my loins these days is via my mind: shared political beliefs, career, and smoking will do that to you.
To make a long story short, come Midnight*, my tongue was down Q's throat and--apologies for sounding Pollyanna-ish here--I suspect that Q will be major participant in 2007 for me and hopefully vice versa.
Yes indeed, this will be a very good year.
* I subscribe to the superstition that whomever you kiss at Midnight will play a major role in the following year. I've never kissed anyone at this particular time before so it's always been me in the year that follows.
By the way, The View was a very good coda: Some GBM bonding with a Guyanian-American, the first song and music video that I remember loving to death, and a fag hag who said "your fly is down, sweetie." My response? "It's New Year's and I don't care, since anyone who notices it is already interested in the contents behind it and probably wouldn't want it zipped up in the first place." (Yes, I said that. She called me "sweetie." I hate that.)
I'll be honest with you, something that was bound to happen did occur: I literally lost my shirt. I had the requisite amount of liquor that enabled me to get over my inhibitions and dance like I didn't care.
And indeed I didn't care. I didn't care to the point that I let my shirt go and fly out of my waist and into the confetti-laden floor.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The main event of the evening is that I had my very first New Year's kiss--at Splash no less.
Y'see, New Year's for me has traditionally been the South Park marathon and a bottle of plum wine in Wisconsin because I didn't want to deal with the chaos of New York on New Year's Eve. For some reason--which I can't explain, but am grateful for--I decided to finally spend New Year's at my present home.
I'm floating on Cloud 9 at the moment, so this will be a rambling post-mortem. Through a series of strange circumstances I did wind up literally dancing with the one who "brung" me, but I didn't dance metaphorically with the one that brung me. Granted that's a strange metaphor, but it's the only way I can explain it at the moment.
When I came to Splash at 8, I was seized upon by a guy, whom I'll call L. L happened to sport my kryptonite, which is black-rimmed glasses. At the time it seemed like L & myself were probably going to be a pair for the evening, but after I stepped outside for a bit, L suggested that I "circulate." Being dutiful, I did. Well, I plopped myself in my usual spot and wound up talking to a guy whom I'll call Q. Q also wore glasses and happened to also be a performance writer as well. Since Splash is only huge by New York standards, it was inevitable that L & Q were bound to meet, thus bringing forth a war between my mind and my loins, with Q winning that battle since the entrance to my loins these days is via my mind: shared political beliefs, career, and smoking will do that to you.
To make a long story short, come Midnight*, my tongue was down Q's throat and--apologies for sounding Pollyanna-ish here--I suspect that Q will be major participant in 2007 for me and hopefully vice versa.
Yes indeed, this will be a very good year.
* I subscribe to the superstition that whomever you kiss at Midnight will play a major role in the following year. I've never kissed anyone at this particular time before so it's always been me in the year that follows.
By the way, The View was a very good coda: Some GBM bonding with a Guyanian-American, the first song and music video that I remember loving to death, and a fag hag who said "your fly is down, sweetie." My response? "It's New Year's and I don't care, since anyone who notices it is already interested in the contents behind it and probably wouldn't want it zipped up in the first place." (Yes, I said that. She called me "sweetie." I hate that.)
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The 2006 Jukebox Does It with Rick Astley
For starters, how come I heard nothing about Rick Astley making a comeback in 2001? He certainly gave it a damn good try.
Aquarians age well, don't we?
Of course this may just be my February 6 bias, but Rick Astley deep in his SAW days was all the upside of the 80s.
And he managed to do a pretty good ballad in '91, I reckon. (Yes, I said it: "a good ballad." This is one exception to the "all ballads must make you feel like slitting your wrists" rule.)
You think I was going to end the 2006 jukeboxes with a ballad? Ha!
The funny thing about a lot of Rick Astley videos in the 80s is that they aren't as aggressively heterosexual as the lyrics would suggest. They're pure camp fluff, and that is a very good thing.
Of course, Rick (onscreen) only seems to have chemistry with the camera, mysterious ginger that he is.
Aquarians age well, don't we?
Of course this may just be my February 6 bias, but Rick Astley deep in his SAW days was all the upside of the 80s.
And he managed to do a pretty good ballad in '91, I reckon. (Yes, I said it: "a good ballad." This is one exception to the "all ballads must make you feel like slitting your wrists" rule.)
You think I was going to end the 2006 jukeboxes with a ballad? Ha!
The funny thing about a lot of Rick Astley videos in the 80s is that they aren't as aggressively heterosexual as the lyrics would suggest. They're pure camp fluff, and that is a very good thing.
Of course, Rick (onscreen) only seems to have chemistry with the camera, mysterious ginger that he is.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Merry Dragmas
Beyonce--with a makeup job that seems straight out of genderfuck drag--at the 2005 Oscars. (Are we certain that wasn't a country drag queen doing stand-in? I mean, mon dieu, with that pronunciation.)
And now to rectify the former: Grace Jones on Pee Wee's Playhouse Christmas.
The best ever rendition of "Little Drummer Boy" I've come across so far.
And now to rectify the former: Grace Jones on Pee Wee's Playhouse Christmas.
The best ever rendition of "Little Drummer Boy" I've come across so far.
Friday, December 22, 2006
The Year That It Was (On Here): 2006
January
- The late, lamented QTN featured Reichen Lehmkuhl giving relationship advice with no trace of irony whatsoever.
- Christine Quinn is selected Council Speaker for New York City.
- Ralph Ellison was right, part 1.
- That damn building going up next to me starts off with a crane situation that would make nearly anybody nervous.
- Gene Shalit's milquetoast apology for his Brokeback Mountain review.
- Hardcore photo shoots and Viagra? Kind of boring.
- SVT's choice to not provide webcast this year leads to unexpected recaps of the Norwegian Melodi Grand Prix and the bizarre pair that is Syn & Sti.
- Ralph Ellison was right, part 2.
- NBC, I give you all this advice and yet, you still don't listen closely.
- Paul Martin gets his slap in the face, but unfortunately that means dealing with inanity that is Stephen Harper.
- RTVSLO? I'll forget EMA 2006 if you will too.
February
- I was bound to wake up like this one day. I just knew it.
- QTN starts its rapid slide into receivership.
- NBC still doesn't get it, and goes for the jugular.
- The Norsk MGP ends with a decent result.
- My birthday resolution? Two out of Eight, isn't bad.
- My attempt to sex up the image of playwrights starts well, but just gets a bronze in the end.
- They don't do Dansk MGPs the way they used to.
- The moral of 2006? It doesn't matter if you are rich, as long as you look rich.
- DC? Beautiful subway system. Kind of cold metaphorically and atmospherically.
- Narcissism is its own sexual orientation.
- Four questions that will probably never be answered.
- Fox will never get it, and why does anyone bother to correct them?
March
- Idiot divorce lawyer from New Berlin decides to turn Wisconsin into Bigotry Land ...and unfortunately succeeds.
- Slut Wins Dora 2006!
- Cruises can be journeys of self-loathing at work, cheap cigarette carton buying, ethical exploration, borscht belt humour, all leading up to 3 days straight out of 9 1/2 Weeks.
- 500 Posts! (Thank you, Esteban!)
- Eurovision 2006 participants? They're freaky!
- Mortality in Milwaukee.
April
- Why I shave my head.
- Steroids and guns get clubs in Chelsea shut down.
- German emigres don't get it.
- Evil building site steals the sun from my heart!
- Masturbating without porn or erotic literature? Not for me.
- When is sushi more than just sushi?
May
- Quotes. Lots of quotes.
- My vote for Post-Mortem of 2006 (and Ralph Ellison was right, part 3).
- La Ryan goes on killing spree throughout Athens or the Eurovision 2006 Qualifier. Take your pick.
- As an American, I apologise to Euroland for Grace clogging up your television screens for 3 hours. Just remember, we have to deal with her on a daily basis.
- Eulogy for QTN.
- Our idiot closet-case mayor tries to have it both ways.
June
- The La Ryan vs. Sibel vs. Severina debate continues...if only in my mind.
- Even innocent words can become slurs, and anyone with a brain and an ounce of morals knows it.
- Let's be blunt. The Tonys sucked.
- The Manifesto for Pride 2006.
- Fuddle Duddle, or why can't American politics be this funny?
- Yes, Virginia, this is the main gay newspaper of New York.
July
- The difference between independence and interdependence.
- They can get married and I can't?
- Phillip Michael Thomas can SING!
- Idiot from New Berlin is a callous bigot, part 2.
- Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce.
August
- Stop calling it HD when it isn't.
- This is the Fringe festival? More like the frayed.
- Fun with Canadian closet cases in Chicago.
- I think Morning Blend is going to be bad, and it is.
- New York local television loses one gay anchor and gains another one.
- Gay Milwaukee is invaded by the pod people.
- Chicago is even more fun without a Canadian Closet Case.
- I am not here to make you feel better, or Ralph Ellison was right part 4.
- Cruising through "happy poor people land."
September
- Dionne Warwick sings the anthem of Summer 2006.
- Luther and rewriting.
- To no one's surprise, 10% of straight men aren't straight...They're cowards.
- Sunday Morning is good...as long as you ignore Charles Osgood.
- Good Morning America: You'd think with this lineup, it'd be better.
- The Early Show: Sponsored by Unisom.
- Today: All I wanna know is how on Earth could Natalie Morales inspire such rabid fandom?
- The CW11 Morning News: Yes, we're even more boring than The Early Show!
- Good Day New York: The most gay [note: superlative here] morning show on the planet since QTN went off the air.
October
- Wisconsin's schizophrenic nature in a picture.
- A majority says the recent revival of A Chorus Line is insipid, and we're still right.
- The downside of New York? Bad gay theatre everywhere you turn.
- T.R. Knight comes out, shortly followed by Neil Patrick Harris, but no one dares come out from the leads of CSI.
- Save Deaf Theatre.
- No one cares about space anymore, not even anime science fiction shows set in space.
- The Story, The Person is born.
- The Closet returns. "(SLAP) Don't say shit to me!"
- Mike Nichols delivers the perfect North Shore smackdown to the pro-amendment block.
November
- Ralph Ellison was right, part 5.
- Vote or shut up. Fortunately, a lot of people did the former.
- My idiot home county and the paranoid retrogressive geriatrics who run it.
- Yes, there was a big sliver lining nationally, but the results from Wisconsin make me see just one big cloud.
- Boundaries & Tact? They're dead.
- Adventures in the American Healthcare System.
- Batshit crazy retired weatherman is my new state assemblyman. Is this penance for my Mike Woods jokes?
- Sarah Schulman tells it like it is. Preach on!
- The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade 2006: Only just beating out Aiden Shaw for most referrals. By the way, people get really defensive when you criticise their bland anonymous ballads.
- Why are all the men in New York smelling like Baby Powder?
December
- NBC began its slide downwards much earlier than we thought. Michael Landon "dancing?"
- I say sin all you want. It's all relative unless you hurt someone else.
- Rupert Murdoch launders his money in bad television. The rest of us just use Wisk.
- The Hudson Affair: Gay Yellow Journalism at its worst.
- Redefining invisibility, or Ralph Ellison was right part 6.
- The Finns melodically tell us that modern life sucks.
- I win Dreamgirls tickets and get pickpocketed. Balance is restored.
- Merger Fever: We'll all get it in the end, but honestly, I say just nationalise the lot.
- I told you Morning Blend was bad.
- Renato Zero refuses to walk quietly into that dark night, and teaches us all a lesson.
Moral of 2006: Ralph Ellison was right.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
We Need A Little Renato Zero this Christmas
Don't you think?
Now that is the textbook definition of "fierce performance" in my book.
Now that is the textbook definition of "fierce performance" in my book.
This Is Milwaukee...Morning Television
Sometime ago when I heard that WTMJ was doing a local chat show to air after Today, I surmised that it would be a car crash.
God, was I right.
This morning the two hosts spent the first 4 minutes going on about getting rid of the smell attached to bracelet by putting it in a toaster.
It was like watching Pirandello with thick Milwaukee accents: "Ohmigaaawd. I can't believ' dat."
Just like Live is pretty much just the first half-hour, Morning Blend really is rather dull after the opening segment.
They should embed these opening segments within Saturday Night Live.
God, was I right.
This morning the two hosts spent the first 4 minutes going on about getting rid of the smell attached to bracelet by putting it in a toaster.
It was like watching Pirandello with thick Milwaukee accents: "Ohmigaaawd. I can't believ' dat."
Just like Live is pretty much just the first half-hour, Morning Blend really is rather dull after the opening segment.
They should embed these opening segments within Saturday Night Live.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Did I Just Blackout or Do I Just Not Watch Enough CNBC?
AirTran wants to merge with Midwest? (Hubs in Milwaukee & Atlanta? You know Milwaukee would be the loser.)
Continental and United discussing merger? (That oddly makes sense.)
Northwest and American? (TWA mark II)
Continental and United discussing merger? (That oddly makes sense.)
Northwest and American? (TWA mark II)
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The View-Splash Post-Mortem: Believe Me, I Have The Last Laugh
Let's get the big news out of the way: I got pickpocketed.
Yes, I finally got pickpocketed and in a very sly way: by a small guy with bad breath groping my crotch at The View.
All I lost was a mp3 player (which is covered by a guaranty and is only activated by a password which I only know) and ultimately no big loss.
Ironically, I also wound up winning 2 tickets to the sold-out showing of Dreamgirls this Saturday. I can't use them, but I have 2 friends who can, so it's not like they would be wasted.
The way I see it, I can now get a better mp3 player and I have now given a good friend of mine a great Hanukkah present.
All is right with the world.
Yes, I finally got pickpocketed and in a very sly way: by a small guy with bad breath groping my crotch at The View.
All I lost was a mp3 player (which is covered by a guaranty and is only activated by a password which I only know) and ultimately no big loss.
Ironically, I also wound up winning 2 tickets to the sold-out showing of Dreamgirls this Saturday. I can't use them, but I have 2 friends who can, so it's not like they would be wasted.
The way I see it, I can now get a better mp3 player and I have now given a good friend of mine a great Hanukkah present.
All is right with the world.
Eurovision 2007: She's Back....!
Alya, that is. RTVSLO announced the shortlist for next year's EMA, which includes the aforementioned Alya as well as rock band Nude (courtesy of ESCtoday.com).
Here's a reminder of how much Alya kicks ass (and hopefully will finally get the prize this tiem around). This is her debut EMA performance from 2003 with Exploziv(no).
And remember this was the winning entry from EMA 2003, an upbeat version of The Neil Sedaka/Bette Midler/The Carpenters' "Superstar."
Here's a reminder of how much Alya kicks ass (and hopefully will finally get the prize this tiem around). This is her debut EMA performance from 2003 with Exploziv(no).
And remember this was the winning entry from EMA 2003, an upbeat version of The Neil Sedaka/Bette Midler/The Carpenters' "Superstar."
Monday, December 11, 2006
Modern Life Sucks
...in choral form.
By the way, Finnish is such very practical language, and soothing to the ear, isn't it?
By the way, Finnish is such very practical language, and soothing to the ear, isn't it?
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Splash-G-The View Post-Mortem: Am I The Same Hikaru?
I state the titular question, because tonight felt so different, even though I did the same things as I normally did any Saturday night.
The common definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different result. I pretty much expect nothing to happen, and nothing--in general--ever does...except for tonight.
I get towards the entrance to Splash and the doorman greats me with a hug and a handshake. Am I that much of a regular? I never know what to do in those situations, so I go along with it. I plop down at my usual seat in the back and as if by psychic intuition the bartender puts down a Corona--my standard for when I can't be arsed to go downstairs for a Mike's. (Not to mention the fact that Rimmed Glasses was working the bar...in boxers, rolled up to look like briefs)
After three Coronas, I get a message from the guy--I guess--I'm sort of seeing. (We're both Aquarians, so it's really hard to tell.) He's tipsy over at G, so will I go and join him. Of course, I will. Were he Joe Blow off the street, I wouldn't, but this guy is practically my doppelganger, so how could I refuse?
Over at G, I inadvertently keep on stepping on toes as my "linked comrade" goes hunting for a seat. He's very singular-minded and for that I applaud him. I also wind up having a bit of a personal crisis since the "linked comrade" is 5 years my junior. That's right, he's young and I have no idea how to deal with youth that is basically me when I was his age. He also happened to be very tipsy and eager to get home, which means that he was not a challenge.
Over at The View, I get into a conversation with someone who might as well be labelled Kryptonite, since it drives me absolutely wild. Who is this mysterious guy? A Russian. That's right along with the Adam Sessler-as-sex-god admission, I am admitting that I have got the big pants for Russians or in fact any Slav.
My bladder unfortunately put an end to that, since I scurried to the urinals in no time at all.
So that was my night, comrades.
The common definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different result. I pretty much expect nothing to happen, and nothing--in general--ever does...except for tonight.
I get towards the entrance to Splash and the doorman greats me with a hug and a handshake. Am I that much of a regular? I never know what to do in those situations, so I go along with it. I plop down at my usual seat in the back and as if by psychic intuition the bartender puts down a Corona--my standard for when I can't be arsed to go downstairs for a Mike's. (Not to mention the fact that Rimmed Glasses was working the bar...in boxers, rolled up to look like briefs)
After three Coronas, I get a message from the guy--I guess--I'm sort of seeing. (We're both Aquarians, so it's really hard to tell.) He's tipsy over at G, so will I go and join him. Of course, I will. Were he Joe Blow off the street, I wouldn't, but this guy is practically my doppelganger, so how could I refuse?
Over at G, I inadvertently keep on stepping on toes as my "linked comrade" goes hunting for a seat. He's very singular-minded and for that I applaud him. I also wind up having a bit of a personal crisis since the "linked comrade" is 5 years my junior. That's right, he's young and I have no idea how to deal with youth that is basically me when I was his age. He also happened to be very tipsy and eager to get home, which means that he was not a challenge.
Over at The View, I get into a conversation with someone who might as well be labelled Kryptonite, since it drives me absolutely wild. Who is this mysterious guy? A Russian. That's right along with the Adam Sessler-as-sex-god admission, I am admitting that I have got the big pants for Russians or in fact any Slav.
My bladder unfortunately put an end to that, since I scurried to the urinals in no time at all.
So that was my night, comrades.
Invisibility
I realise that I've probably skirted around a subject on a lot of my posts without necessarily addressing head on: invisibility. It's probably because on this subject, I don't quite know what to say in a direct manner. I will try this time around.
I've been rereading (albeit for the first time in its unabridged version) The Invisible Man and I forgot how much of a price everyone pays by keeping themselves and others invisible.
What's my definition of invisible? Invisible is not speaking up when you are being used like an object. Invisible is when you realise that someone who is seated right next to you is completely looking through you as if you are not there. Invisible is feeling the rage inside and trying desperately to quell it. Invisible is slinking off into the corner, watching the world pass by, and being confused by whether or not to interact in it.
All too often, I seek invisibility, but I also get incensed when I'm not noticed. I don't mean this in a vain sense, I'm only talking about not being noticed that another human being is present in your close proximity.
The old expression of "man is an island" has always left me perplexed. Yes, we are physically islands, but we are so dependent on others that it seems ludicrous to conduct ourselves in that manner. Today, while I was changing at the gym, I had elbows bump into me, conversations conducted over my head, and "pardon me"s ignored. In short, I became to those in my surroundings, a non-person.
It may seem like what I'm calling "invisibility" is just a lack of manners, but I think it goes further than that. If you look back in the history of discrimination, you'll find that people often employed slurs to dehumanise others and justify their perceived superiority and autonomy in the world. "Fag," "boy," "girl," and so on. (In respect to the last two, they might seem nebulous and are most of the time basically innocuous words, but with a certain tone of voice, they become weapons of submission.)
Modern urban life, I reckon, has forced many people to lump others into the category of non-persons. Many don't look around to see the cleaning people, subway clerk, or even junior colleagues. I wonder if there's a fear that if we accept that everybody is just as human as the rest of us, then we won't be able to function on a daily basis (the "I have enough friends" theory). As I see it, I think we can; since there's a difference between establishing intimacy and treating others with respect based upon shared humanity. We do not have to agree on everything, but there needs to be a lot less of "them" and "us" in the world.
As for me, when I go out next, I will interact as if I am a full-rank player in the world. It won't stop me from taking in the greater picture, nor observing my surroundings, but it will hopefully reinforce my sense of self and my involvement with others, because I am visible.
I've been rereading (albeit for the first time in its unabridged version) The Invisible Man and I forgot how much of a price everyone pays by keeping themselves and others invisible.
What's my definition of invisible? Invisible is not speaking up when you are being used like an object. Invisible is when you realise that someone who is seated right next to you is completely looking through you as if you are not there. Invisible is feeling the rage inside and trying desperately to quell it. Invisible is slinking off into the corner, watching the world pass by, and being confused by whether or not to interact in it.
All too often, I seek invisibility, but I also get incensed when I'm not noticed. I don't mean this in a vain sense, I'm only talking about not being noticed that another human being is present in your close proximity.
The old expression of "man is an island" has always left me perplexed. Yes, we are physically islands, but we are so dependent on others that it seems ludicrous to conduct ourselves in that manner. Today, while I was changing at the gym, I had elbows bump into me, conversations conducted over my head, and "pardon me"s ignored. In short, I became to those in my surroundings, a non-person.
It may seem like what I'm calling "invisibility" is just a lack of manners, but I think it goes further than that. If you look back in the history of discrimination, you'll find that people often employed slurs to dehumanise others and justify their perceived superiority and autonomy in the world. "Fag," "boy," "girl," and so on. (In respect to the last two, they might seem nebulous and are most of the time basically innocuous words, but with a certain tone of voice, they become weapons of submission.)
Modern urban life, I reckon, has forced many people to lump others into the category of non-persons. Many don't look around to see the cleaning people, subway clerk, or even junior colleagues. I wonder if there's a fear that if we accept that everybody is just as human as the rest of us, then we won't be able to function on a daily basis (the "I have enough friends" theory). As I see it, I think we can; since there's a difference between establishing intimacy and treating others with respect based upon shared humanity. We do not have to agree on everything, but there needs to be a lot less of "them" and "us" in the world.
As for me, when I go out next, I will interact as if I am a full-rank player in the world. It won't stop me from taking in the greater picture, nor observing my surroundings, but it will hopefully reinforce my sense of self and my involvement with others, because I am visible.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
You Only See What Your Eyes Want To See
My opinion on the The Hudson Affair that semi-erupted this week.
I think a lot of projection went on when it came to the (now-unnamed) author of the Dallas Voice article. Hudson should've been much more explicit in how she personally feels--despite her previous statement on sin which the author called "schizophrenic." The author was clearly coming in with an axe to grind as well.
This sort of "journalism" is what got Jeff Gannon his notoriety (and a column in the Washington Blade) and one wonders if the author was interested in promoting his/her own self and opinions over the actual subject he/she was supposed to be covering. (By the way, isn't the Dallas Voice an affiliate of the Washington Blade? The same fools behind the waste of trees that is the New York Blade?)
If ego was the goal, then on some level the writer succeeded, since their piece was rocketed all over the online gay press where commentators worded out cautious statements along the lines of "I hope she didn't realise what she was actually saying." Hudson subsequently issued a statement that has hopefully put this issue to rest in all but the most hysteric fringe.
The author has apparently disappeared into the annals of cyberspace.
Now for a real clear labelling by singers of gays as sinners, read Clay Cane's excerpt from his interview with Mary Mary.
So here's my statement on religion: I don't go to church, never regularly attended church, nor do I plan on becoming a regular member of one. I am not Baptised, nor was I ever Confirmed. I was raised celebrating Christian holidays as family affairs as opposed to religious ones--although I was also thought the stories behind them. I don't currently consider myself Christian, or even Spiritual, unless being Taoist counts as a spiritual belief system. I know (which is much stronger than "believe" in my book) that people have used religion to excuse away bigotry and violence for centuries. I also know that throughout it all, sanity and logic have prevailed in the end and that naught is ultimately gained by twisting other's words to salve one's own wounds from the past.
My interpretation of the infamous quote ("man should not lay with man as he does with woman," or thereabouts) is this: I wouldn't have sex with a woman anyway, so having sex with men when you only desire men isn't violating any biblical doctrine. Of course, that same biblical book also tells people to avoid shellfish.
I think a lot of projection went on when it came to the (now-unnamed) author of the Dallas Voice article. Hudson should've been much more explicit in how she personally feels--despite her previous statement on sin which the author called "schizophrenic." The author was clearly coming in with an axe to grind as well.
This sort of "journalism" is what got Jeff Gannon his notoriety (and a column in the Washington Blade) and one wonders if the author was interested in promoting his/her own self and opinions over the actual subject he/she was supposed to be covering. (By the way, isn't the Dallas Voice an affiliate of the Washington Blade? The same fools behind the waste of trees that is the New York Blade?)
If ego was the goal, then on some level the writer succeeded, since their piece was rocketed all over the online gay press where commentators worded out cautious statements along the lines of "I hope she didn't realise what she was actually saying." Hudson subsequently issued a statement that has hopefully put this issue to rest in all but the most hysteric fringe.
The author has apparently disappeared into the annals of cyberspace.
Now for a real clear labelling by singers of gays as sinners, read Clay Cane's excerpt from his interview with Mary Mary.
So here's my statement on religion: I don't go to church, never regularly attended church, nor do I plan on becoming a regular member of one. I am not Baptised, nor was I ever Confirmed. I was raised celebrating Christian holidays as family affairs as opposed to religious ones--although I was also thought the stories behind them. I don't currently consider myself Christian, or even Spiritual, unless being Taoist counts as a spiritual belief system. I know (which is much stronger than "believe" in my book) that people have used religion to excuse away bigotry and violence for centuries. I also know that throughout it all, sanity and logic have prevailed in the end and that naught is ultimately gained by twisting other's words to salve one's own wounds from the past.
My interpretation of the infamous quote ("man should not lay with man as he does with woman," or thereabouts) is this: I wouldn't have sex with a woman anyway, so having sex with men when you only desire men isn't violating any biblical doctrine. Of course, that same biblical book also tells people to avoid shellfish.
Okay, so I watch WNYW!
Anne Craig subbed for Rosanna Scotto on the 5pm news on WNYW, and I have to say...she's not too bad in the anchor's desk. It's a whole different feeling with her than La Scotto. It's...perky, but not annoying. You get the sense that she's definitely got a brain, but that she isn't going to tell you what to feel. (La Scotto expresses her opinion often, but she's got the personality and gravitas to back that up, which is a very good thing mind you.) It is just a touch strange to hear upspeak on the news.
Nonetheless, I am getting the sense that they are grooming her to take over someone's slot.
In other matters WNYW, the channel has picked some of the daftest stories for viewers to choose for 2006 story of the year. Amongst the candidates:
Nonetheless, I am getting the sense that they are grooming her to take over someone's slot.
In other matters WNYW, the channel has picked some of the daftest stories for viewers to choose for 2006 story of the year. Amongst the candidates:
- Steve Irwin's death. (Nod to the dark Antipodean overlord.)
- Christie Brinkley's divorce. (Ego stroke, since the strumpet involved gave an exclusive interview to La Scotto)
- Ed Bradley's death. (I liked Ed Bradley a lot, but his death did not define this year for anyone outside his family and friends.)
- Howard Stern moves to satellite radio.
- A tornado hits Westchester.
- Umpteen stories about celebrities breaking up, getting together, and blah, blah, blah.
Christ on a stick, it wasn't that boring of a year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)