Do you know the feeling of being in a Best Buy and wandering over to the aisles of computer games, scanning for the game that is beloved of pre-teen girls? The one that is essentially a computerized dollhouse? I do. I know that feeling very well. I also know what it's like to wait until I'm alone in the aisle until I pick up the box and contemplate buying it, or it's plethora of "expansion" packs that allow you to get different styles of furniture for your computer dolls. I also know what it's like to ask for a gift receipt so the cute slouchy guy at the counter won't know I am buying this game for me so I can design pretty men with good hairstyles and furniture that I cannot afford.
True, these days you don't have to step outside of your house to buy The Sims. You can buy them from and download them directly to your computer. And I recently did. And after one day I returned it. I had to, because in one day I lost track of all time and desire to create a real life so that I could watch the computer boys I'd made make out with each other and dance at clubs and get married and disappear under the covers with each other until hearts flutter up in the air. I spent hours designing characters.
I made the muscle bound, the skinny, the hirsute, the fey... every type of gay you might be able to make? I made them all. I had a strong tendency toward big lipped twinks with a penchant for base and eyeliner, but I tried to shake it up as much as I could. Variety is the spice, as they say. Yes, I had all kinds...as long as they weren't fat. Because I mean, this is fantasy land right, and I have struggled enough with my own weight to saddle my little digital progeny with these troubles. The last thing I want is for Taylor O'Reilly to stay at home ordering pizza because his ass is too big and the other Sims don't want to flirt with him. I populated my imaginary world with as many different kinds of hot as you can imagine. Vampires? Oh yes, there were vampires. There were even perfect nuclear families. Of course, every time I tried to create the perfect faithful 1950's family with a sea green couch and a 12 inch screen television the husband would undoubtedly end up making out with their male housekeeper and before you knew it he had moved into a bachelor pad and he and Tad were starting anew. All of my Sims cheated. Which is odd. In my actually life, I am completely faithful. Never cheated once. But in the computer world I was constantly throwing my computer peeps toward temptation, dragging them out on secret rendezvous at the lake to "fish" until a cute boy wandered by. I made a little Peyton Place for myself, a virtual cartoon paradise of boys kissing and dancing and drinking and getting married, and they all had the most amazing things! There were retro gays, scene gays, lumbergays... and in order to make all these kinds of gays, I had to buy and download a lot of different accessories. Mostly? I bought hair.
The Sims need more good male hairstyles. I could never get enough of good hair for my digital children and after all, there are so many pompadours and ducktails, and floppy shoulder length cuts that you can use. At one point I would buy an entire expansion pack for just one good hair swoop.
I'd say I was immersed in the Sims for at least two or three years during which I would stay up into the wee hours building houses and decorating them, and creating people (I almost never got to the actual interaction part of the game as I spent so much time designing). Eventually I realized that, while I would put Dirk on the treadmill at a frenetic pace so he could keep his washboard abs, I was not doing this for myself. And while I would send my boys out on dates, I wasn't going on them myself. And I wasn't developing my own life skills. It was all being poured into the computer.
Eventually something had to give, and it was me. I got brave enough to purge all of the characters and their homes and neighborhoods. I sent them all to the ethosphere. Death was short, and not so sweet. Of course, if I wanted, my accessories were in a folder for easy retrieval, but the lives I'd made? Gone with the wind.
When Sims 4 came out, I fell off the wagon for some time, deliciously, and recklessly off the wagon. I waved the wagon goodbye as I lay in the dirt, rolling around with my 99 cent saddle shoes and $5 Medieval fashion sets. Luckily, I changed computers a few months later and I allowed that transition to send me back to a life outdoors and with the occasional real life man. But I always feel a bit like I'm on a precipice with that fucking game. A couple of days ago I realized I still had the Sims 3 on my Mac, and I spent at least an hour creating a Victorian fashion loving, brooding vampire and his Himbo, tank top wearing boyfriend. Please know. I am not proud of this. Eventually I had to exit the game without saving my changes or I knew I could easily go back to the land of complete indoors living. But it IS FUN! You feel like you are accomplishing things! It's dolls for adults! And I could make my Sims get to live the life I'd fantasized about, full of record deals and debauchery, and pets!!! If I could only play it in moderation. But, in truth, I don't know that I can. Or, at least, my personal history has shown me that this would be... difficult. And so, the most I allow myself is the occasional browse through Amazon.com at the newest expansion sets. Real life is too important to let it languish in favor of computerized dreams so temptingly easy to achieve.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
A Shift in the Blogging Force (And A Disclaimer)
I stopped blogging for a while, and while I'd love to say that I was so busy living my mad impetuous life that I just didn't have time to plunk out a few words on a weeknight evening, the truth is that blogging had just stopped being fun.
Sometimes it's that simple. It felt like there was so much editing, so much work to create something polished and complete, so much pressure to avoid hurting feelings, and pressures to be niche and interesting, to gain readership and some dimply imagined notoriety. And so at some point I stopped writing for myself, stopped writing about life, and started writing about things- plays, books, movies, because that felt so much safer. But there are so many people writing about those things, and I felt held to a higher standard, one I wasn't sure I could raise myself up to.
And yet, I began to miss blogging. Yes, blogging means stealing a little time from the mystery novel I've been dutifully writing for the past year (I'm up to 85,000 words if you're keeping track- big old metaphorical high five for me) but it's worth it, if I can just take some of the pressure off myself. Realize that its imaginary, and that none of this writing may mean all that much to anybody else, but as long as it means something to me, that is enough. But the only way it will ever mean anything to me, is if it is authentic and truthful, and intimate.
So here it is. The catch all disclaimer, apology, warning, and promise. Relatives, friends, former friends, exes, boys I dated and pretend that our relationship meant so much more to you than it probably actually did, if you don't want to see reflections of you as they relate to my life in print? Don't read. And probably stop hanging out with me, that way you can be assured that you won't see yourself in here. My promise? I promise to be respectful and as kind as I know how to be. See, this won't be that scary.
Sometimes it's that simple. It felt like there was so much editing, so much work to create something polished and complete, so much pressure to avoid hurting feelings, and pressures to be niche and interesting, to gain readership and some dimply imagined notoriety. And so at some point I stopped writing for myself, stopped writing about life, and started writing about things- plays, books, movies, because that felt so much safer. But there are so many people writing about those things, and I felt held to a higher standard, one I wasn't sure I could raise myself up to.
And yet, I began to miss blogging. Yes, blogging means stealing a little time from the mystery novel I've been dutifully writing for the past year (I'm up to 85,000 words if you're keeping track- big old metaphorical high five for me) but it's worth it, if I can just take some of the pressure off myself. Realize that its imaginary, and that none of this writing may mean all that much to anybody else, but as long as it means something to me, that is enough. But the only way it will ever mean anything to me, is if it is authentic and truthful, and intimate.
So here it is. The catch all disclaimer, apology, warning, and promise. Relatives, friends, former friends, exes, boys I dated and pretend that our relationship meant so much more to you than it probably actually did, if you don't want to see reflections of you as they relate to my life in print? Don't read. And probably stop hanging out with me, that way you can be assured that you won't see yourself in here. My promise? I promise to be respectful and as kind as I know how to be. See, this won't be that scary.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
On the Horizon
There are a few films in the upcoming Fall/Winter season that I'm excited about. Some with reservations, and one unabashedly.
First up is Loving, based on the lives of Richard and Mildred Loving is released on November 4th, and the trailer alone had me in tears.
Vincent Cassel's La Belle et La Bete, which debuted in France in 2014 and will be released in the U.S. on September 23rd is one that I have some reservations about, as the reviews have been mixed, and it seems partly an attempt to out blockbuster Hollywood, but at least it looks to be more influenced by the original story, or at least from the Jean Cocteau film, than from Disney, which pleases me, as I've always been drawn to the dark beauty and the melancholy undertones of the tale.
First up is Loving, based on the lives of Richard and Mildred Loving is released on November 4th, and the trailer alone had me in tears.
Vincent Cassel's La Belle et La Bete, which debuted in France in 2014 and will be released in the U.S. on September 23rd is one that I have some reservations about, as the reviews have been mixed, and it seems partly an attempt to out blockbuster Hollywood, but at least it looks to be more influenced by the original story, or at least from the Jean Cocteau film, than from Disney, which pleases me, as I've always been drawn to the dark beauty and the melancholy undertones of the tale.
Another film I'm excited about, but also skeptical, is Collateral Beauty due out December 16th and featuring Will Smith, Kate Winslet and Helen Mirren. There is no trailer available as of yet, and it has been shrouded in mystery so far, but it claims to have shades of It's A Wonderful Life, and The Wizard of Oz. While I love both those films, and am a huge fan of stories based largely in the real world but with aspects of the supernatural, everything about that I've learned about this film so far seems to hint that it may be overreaching.
The one I am most excited (unabashedly, mouth flamingly excited about, having to temper said expectations so that I actually enjoy the film as much as I do its dreamily delicious trailer) is La La Land which is also being released on December 16th. I am as in love with the idea of this film as it is possible to be.
"Cat People" Gets the Criterion Treatment
I don't really collect DVDs anymore as I began to notice that the ones I bought had a tendency to stay in their wrapping months, if not years after I purchased them. My habit of watching and rematching my favorite films has pretty much become a thing of the past with so many other things to watch and enjoy in this new "Golden Age" of television. But there are some things I still can't wait to get my hands on, even if I will only watch them once. Call it sentiment, call it the illusion of closeness. I will happily grab at the illusion of closeness with this film. It's a 1942 film by the name of Cat People. You may not have seen the original, but you are likely at least familiar with the title, or the remake from the eighties that takes the originals subtext and makes it "text".
On September 20th, Cat People gets the Criterion treatment. Criterion does truly beautiful work restoring oftentimes forgotten or little known masterpieces, and I eagerly await the chance to see this film in its crisp restored form, and to drown myself in all the extras Criterion provides. The film itself is a subtle, shadowy noir horror piece. A female werewolf movie, with the more feminine but equally deadly panther stepping in for the brutish wolf. It says so much about the things that we as people fear about ourselves, our histories, about fear of our own sexual desires, desires that we have been told are sinful. And it is intensely artful, subtle visual cues throughout to tell its story. In short, I absolutely adore every aspect.
The Criterion set includes:
On September 20th, Cat People gets the Criterion treatment. Criterion does truly beautiful work restoring oftentimes forgotten or little known masterpieces, and I eagerly await the chance to see this film in its crisp restored form, and to drown myself in all the extras Criterion provides. The film itself is a subtle, shadowy noir horror piece. A female werewolf movie, with the more feminine but equally deadly panther stepping in for the brutish wolf. It says so much about the things that we as people fear about ourselves, our histories, about fear of our own sexual desires, desires that we have been told are sinful. And it is intensely artful, subtle visual cues throughout to tell its story. In short, I absolutely adore every aspect.
The Criterion set includes:
- New 2K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray
- Audio commentary from 2005 featuring film historian Gregory Mank, with excerpts from an audio interview with actor Simone Simon
- Val Lewton: The Man in the Shadows, a 2008 feature-length documentary that explores the life and career of the legendary Hollywood producer
- Interview with director Jacques Tourneur from 1979
- New interview with cinematographer John Bailey about the look of the film
- Trailer
- PLUS: An essay by critic Geoffrey O’Brien
I've heard the audio commentary, as it is available on the current DVD, and it's a great complement to the film as it details how intricately it was crafted to work on the viewer's mind, right down to the visual effects of the shadows from the window which fall on the heroines face and give the impression of her being caged.
In truth, if you haven't seen it yet and you need the luxury of immediate gratification, see it in any form. If you are a fan, then this new disc is a must own.
In truth, if you haven't seen it yet and you need the luxury of immediate gratification, see it in any form. If you are a fan, then this new disc is a must own.
Blustery Days
The weather took a turn yesterday and I was surprised to see that in one day, New York had switched to light fall fashions. Hoodies were out, folks shrouded themselves in navy and chestnut colors, and I felt very out of place in my white, pink and peacock checked shirt. I secretly, if metaphorically, embraced anyone I spied on the streets wearing pink or white. Labor Day has not yet passed!!!!
(This whole "no white after Labor Day" rule reminds me of the days when, as a supremely hefty twelve year old I began wearing white jeans. Every day. Even though I had no business wearing white jeans. Not that anyone did, but certainly not me, in November. Every day. It's an approach to fashion that I had then and still mostly do. I find a fashion trend I like and I grab onto it for dear life. If it makes me feel comfortable and somewhat in place, I will return to it again and again to reunite reclaim that sensation. Variety is not the spice of my somewhat limited fashion life.
Anyway, white jeans became so prevalent in my fashion that my beautiful and somewhat snarky French teacher Madame Bare gave me the french name of "Blanchet" deriving from the French word for white. And lest you think that I was being paranoid, she actually told me at the end of the year that she had named me that because... I always wore white jeans. I believe she said this right after she told me that though I had driven her a bit bananas at times, she had enjoyed having me in her class. Touche, Madame. But at least my name wasn't... MADAME BARE!!!! Although, snarkiness aside, she did, along with old Judy Garland movies, greatly fuel my love of the musical by sharing her cast album of Cats in our Language Arts class. I played "Jennyanydots" over an over and over. I know that any self respecting musical theatre fan shows a blatant disdain for it, but I will always have a soft spot for Cats.)
They've been saying we have a tropical storm in our near future, but what was supposed to arrive today has now been pushed off until tomorrow. We will see if this becomes a reality or if it is yet another disaster that... blows over. Me, as long as everyone is safe, I wouldn't mind a bit of a storm. Dramatic weather has the tendency to remind me that things are not the same day after day after day. Change comes unexpectedly and inevitably and some times you just have to cuddle up and watch the wind and rain rattle the things that thought they were safely settled.
Of course, after the storm blows over we are supposed to return to late summer weather, so until late September we will probably keep the off-white, aging a/c units in our windows. Both because we don't want to suffer, and because we have become used to to cool comfort.
(This whole "no white after Labor Day" rule reminds me of the days when, as a supremely hefty twelve year old I began wearing white jeans. Every day. Even though I had no business wearing white jeans. Not that anyone did, but certainly not me, in November. Every day. It's an approach to fashion that I had then and still mostly do. I find a fashion trend I like and I grab onto it for dear life. If it makes me feel comfortable and somewhat in place, I will return to it again and again to reunite reclaim that sensation. Variety is not the spice of my somewhat limited fashion life.
Anyway, white jeans became so prevalent in my fashion that my beautiful and somewhat snarky French teacher Madame Bare gave me the french name of "Blanchet" deriving from the French word for white. And lest you think that I was being paranoid, she actually told me at the end of the year that she had named me that because... I always wore white jeans. I believe she said this right after she told me that though I had driven her a bit bananas at times, she had enjoyed having me in her class. Touche, Madame. But at least my name wasn't... MADAME BARE!!!! Although, snarkiness aside, she did, along with old Judy Garland movies, greatly fuel my love of the musical by sharing her cast album of Cats in our Language Arts class. I played "Jennyanydots" over an over and over. I know that any self respecting musical theatre fan shows a blatant disdain for it, but I will always have a soft spot for Cats.)
They've been saying we have a tropical storm in our near future, but what was supposed to arrive today has now been pushed off until tomorrow. We will see if this becomes a reality or if it is yet another disaster that... blows over. Me, as long as everyone is safe, I wouldn't mind a bit of a storm. Dramatic weather has the tendency to remind me that things are not the same day after day after day. Change comes unexpectedly and inevitably and some times you just have to cuddle up and watch the wind and rain rattle the things that thought they were safely settled.
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| Illustration by E.H. Shepard |
Of course, after the storm blows over we are supposed to return to late summer weather, so until late September we will probably keep the off-white, aging a/c units in our windows. Both because we don't want to suffer, and because we have become used to to cool comfort.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Florida Bound!!
In a little less than a month I will be making my first trip to Disneyworld, and I could not be more excited! My roommate Laura and I are going to a 45th Anniversary screening of Bedknobs and Broomsticks exclusively for D23 Members (of which my roomie is one). We'll be there for a relatively short time, so rather than try and shove everything into two days, we have decided to focus on The Magic Kingdom which is both of our main interests.
My major fascination with DisneyLand (which I've been to several times) is the ability to step into these films that have meant so much to the formation of my imagination, and my love of story. Cinderella, Snow White, Pinnochio... these stories dictated how I learned about dreams and overcoming obstacles and becoming a good person. And being in those parks allows you to feel like a child again, to indulge in the purest part of yourself.
Fantasyland was always my favorite part of the Disneyland experience, so I am most excited to see the reimagined Fantasyland in Florida with Gaston's Pub, and the Beast's "Be Our Guest" Restaurant, The Little Mermaid Ride, and The Dwarfs Mine Train. Those things alone would probably be enough for me, but add to that the experience of seeing the attractions I love with a slight twist.
I remember my Dad taking my mom and myself to Disneyland when I was eight (he was the only one of us who had been) and how he prepared me by telling me each detail of the rides he loved. He rhapsodized about the hitchhiking ghosts from The Haunted Mansion and each detail of The Peter Pan ride. When I finally got there, I loved getting to see the things I'd imagined through his stories as they really were. It was such a bonding experience for us, and the days of my first trip to Disneyland are some of the clearest and happiest of my young life. Every time I go back I build upon those memories, and I am so excited to go to this new park and experience it for the first time.
Going with someone who loves Disney as unabashedly as I do (and who has been to the park before so is loaded with bits of info and glowing memories) is pretty exciting, and I can't wait to report to you all our adventures when we return.
PS: Cross your fingers that we are able to get a walk-in seat to the "Be Our Guest" Restaurant, as the reservations were booked up two months in advance, and I am aching to eat the "grey stuff" in The West Wing!!!
My major fascination with DisneyLand (which I've been to several times) is the ability to step into these films that have meant so much to the formation of my imagination, and my love of story. Cinderella, Snow White, Pinnochio... these stories dictated how I learned about dreams and overcoming obstacles and becoming a good person. And being in those parks allows you to feel like a child again, to indulge in the purest part of yourself.
Fantasyland was always my favorite part of the Disneyland experience, so I am most excited to see the reimagined Fantasyland in Florida with Gaston's Pub, and the Beast's "Be Our Guest" Restaurant, The Little Mermaid Ride, and The Dwarfs Mine Train. Those things alone would probably be enough for me, but add to that the experience of seeing the attractions I love with a slight twist.
I remember my Dad taking my mom and myself to Disneyland when I was eight (he was the only one of us who had been) and how he prepared me by telling me each detail of the rides he loved. He rhapsodized about the hitchhiking ghosts from The Haunted Mansion and each detail of The Peter Pan ride. When I finally got there, I loved getting to see the things I'd imagined through his stories as they really were. It was such a bonding experience for us, and the days of my first trip to Disneyland are some of the clearest and happiest of my young life. Every time I go back I build upon those memories, and I am so excited to go to this new park and experience it for the first time.
Going with someone who loves Disney as unabashedly as I do (and who has been to the park before so is loaded with bits of info and glowing memories) is pretty exciting, and I can't wait to report to you all our adventures when we return.
PS: Cross your fingers that we are able to get a walk-in seat to the "Be Our Guest" Restaurant, as the reservations were booked up two months in advance, and I am aching to eat the "grey stuff" in The West Wing!!!
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| Artist Rendering of the "Be Our Guest Restaurant" |
Monday, August 22, 2016
Book Recommendation: Use Your Words!
Quite simply put, I've had difficulties getting myself to the writing desk, or the kitchen table, or the coffee shop--- wherever it is I am planning to be to make the act of committing words to screen--- and Cathy Deveny's book has been truly helpful in combating my procrastination. If you are a writer of any kind, I could not recommend it more highly.
I'd not heard of Cathy Deveny until reading an emphatic review stating quite plainly that this book does what it is intended to do: help anyone who wants to write more to do that. Cathy is a successful Australian comedian with a very straightforward and refreshing approach, and her book is easily available for e-readers at the bargain price of $7.99 Amazon.com. People who insist on paper will have to pay around $25, as the book hasn't made it to American publishers as of yet.
It's full title is Use Your Words: A Myth Busting, No Fear Approach To Writing, and while she makes no claims that the book will make you a better writer, if the act of writing more, and gaining experience through that process makes one a better writer, then this book will make those who stay open and receptive to it better writers. But please understand, the only point of this book is to help its reader get over the issues that keep him or her from the act of writing, and get on with it. The fact that Deveny achieves this in such a readable and humorous way just makes it all the more enticing.
I'd not heard of Cathy Deveny until reading an emphatic review stating quite plainly that this book does what it is intended to do: help anyone who wants to write more to do that. Cathy is a successful Australian comedian with a very straightforward and refreshing approach, and her book is easily available for e-readers at the bargain price of $7.99 Amazon.com. People who insist on paper will have to pay around $25, as the book hasn't made it to American publishers as of yet.
It's full title is Use Your Words: A Myth Busting, No Fear Approach To Writing, and while she makes no claims that the book will make you a better writer, if the act of writing more, and gaining experience through that process makes one a better writer, then this book will make those who stay open and receptive to it better writers. But please understand, the only point of this book is to help its reader get over the issues that keep him or her from the act of writing, and get on with it. The fact that Deveny achieves this in such a readable and humorous way just makes it all the more enticing.
I will make one suggestion which I don't believe Cathy does. When you finish reading it (aside from the obvious "get to writing") at your earliest convenience, go back to page one and re-read it. Even if it's just to skim it the second time. Even if you just flip open to a random page and read a paragraph or two. Because as helpful as these words are, the glow of them will only last so long, and you will need to re-engage with it in order to keep the good vibes and the words flowing.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
On the Streets of New York
New York City contains some of the most unique and memorable sites in America, and I'm not merely talking about designated "sites". On my way into Mid-town every weekday morning, I encounter people shouting tirades to fellow subway goers, one man bands, and folks wearing brilliant and unusual fashions worn for no reason at all. I walk by sculpted works of art that I appreciated on the first encounter, but that have since become just part of the background. I am the first to admit what a shame that is. These are the things that make New York "New York", and to truly appreciate the city, one has to pay attention to these details.
One such detail that I had noticed in passing, but hadn't really paid all that much attention to as I passed it each day on my way to lunch, was this...
One such detail that I had noticed in passing, but hadn't really paid all that much attention to as I passed it each day on my way to lunch, was this...
a pair of liquid nitrogen tanks just sitting in the street with yellow tape around them. I'd passed them several times, and never really paused to wonder what they were doing there, or if they posed any kind of threat or hazard. And then one day I stopped. And took notice (and a couple of photos)
What do they do? Well there's a hose coming from the canisters that goes down a grate or manhole and the liquid nitrogen changes to a gas and expands, keeping copper wiring dry underneath the streets. It belongs to Verizon and helps to keep their phone service and internet running smoothly. In spite of the fact that there is a protective covering over the wires, there is some damage due to the elements and steam from heating, so the nitrogen assists.
As for the tanks, they've apparently never leaked or exploded (and there are many of them around the city) in spite of occasionally being tipped over by cars hitting them.
I find it kind of funny that they can't fund a better way of doing this, but I'm hardly a scientist, and this is just another interesting feature that is part of living in New York City.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
On the Way to the Fountain
A couple of weeks ago I went to Central Park to see Bethesda Fountain, and the statue of the angel so prominently featured in Angels in America. I've been re-reading the piece in honor of its 25th anniversary, and it felt important to see it in person. To really experience it. What I didn't expect was all the joy I would encounter on the way there...
Stultifying
Stultifying. The summer heat in New York City is stultifying. It beats on you from above in the walk to and from work, it bounces off from the concrete towers all around, it radiates in stinking waves from the grates in the street. It leaves you, after ten minutes of walking with strange and oddly placed splotches on your withered business shirt, and you smell as if you just mowed the lawn without the fresh grass aroma to cut the sweat. And humid!!! Like a floating soup.
About a month ago I gave up and put the window unit in. There was really no reason not to other than my "Old Man Johnson" attitude of thinking I could beat the heat, be stronger willed than a fucking force of nature. And if I could? Where's the real victory? The fifty dollars a month it saves me in electrical bills? I'll pay. You win heat. You fucking win.
The good thing about the heat is that when it's this hot, nothing refreshes like a nice Mint Julep, which makes me imagine myself as a gracious lady in a floppy yellow sun hat as I sit on the porch and fan myself idly. Or lemonade! Or Strawberry Iced Tea. Cold drinks, while not worth the trade off that is this... STULTIFYING heat (did I mention it is stultifying?) are a nice diversion, and one way to make the season of summer feel fully lived.
About a month ago I gave up and put the window unit in. There was really no reason not to other than my "Old Man Johnson" attitude of thinking I could beat the heat, be stronger willed than a fucking force of nature. And if I could? Where's the real victory? The fifty dollars a month it saves me in electrical bills? I'll pay. You win heat. You fucking win.
The good thing about the heat is that when it's this hot, nothing refreshes like a nice Mint Julep, which makes me imagine myself as a gracious lady in a floppy yellow sun hat as I sit on the porch and fan myself idly. Or lemonade! Or Strawberry Iced Tea. Cold drinks, while not worth the trade off that is this... STULTIFYING heat (did I mention it is stultifying?) are a nice diversion, and one way to make the season of summer feel fully lived.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Ambivelence, Thy Name is Etta
Look, I'm a purist about many things. I think, most of the times, it isn't neccessary to muck around with a story that works, unless you are making a strong point about said work. For example, if you are going to set A Midsummer Night's Dream at the beach? Please have a real reason, a way this re-conceptualization shines a new light on the story. Don't just fuck around with a classic in the name of modernization, or to be different.
And yet... some things need to be changed as they age, because in today's context they go against they go against the original intent of the piece. The piece under discussion, while not Shakespeare, is certainly iconic and embedded in th current culture. We are speaking of Wonder Woman, or to be more specific, cohort... Etta. Etta Candy. Yeah. You got it. She "etta candy". She etta lot o' candy and got real fat.
Etta was introduced in the second issue of Wonder Woman, and was supposedly born so thin and malnourished that she nearly died. What saved her? Chocolate of course! Lots and lots of chocolate. She ate a shit ton of it and got hefty. Health problems over!
Now, for those of you out there insisting that Etta is kick ass and awesome? That she's some kind of pioneer for the appreciation of self and of our own bodies, however they may be shaped? I wish I agreed with you.
There is some evidence that supports your claim. Yes, in one issue, Etta magically gains Wonder Woman's body and decides she prefers her own. Sweet! How body positive! If it were not for the fact that her choice to keep her figure is written with all the jocularity and "can you believe it" whizz bang that comics could muster back then. Her choice was at most a bone thrown to the heavy girls out there, and at worst a joke based on the incredulity that anyone would choose to be that size.
Yes Etta saves Wonder Woman in a lot of the issues. and has plenty of opportunities to be heroic. She loves herself, loves her body, and stands up for herself and her friends with strength and bravado. She is the leader of The Holliday Girls, a sorority that aids Wonder Woman in her adventures and is often taking down oppressors wherever they may pop up. They also get into a lot of freaky shit behind the scenes...
My main point here, is that, yes, it is great to see an earthly woman who is even more confident and in charge than Wonder Woman, getting things done in a more down and dirty way. I love that she is a woman who has taken her fair share of hits from society, who would love to sideline her, and she always takes center stage, and takes charge. But unfortunately, there is no getting around the fact that Etta is a joke. She was written as a joke. Her family (dad named "Hard", mother named "Sugar" and brother "Mint") is a joke. Yes, she rescued some captured children... WITH A BOX OF CANDY! And yes, she stopped a bullet...WITH A BOX OF CANDY! One of her favorite catch phrases? "For the love of chocolate!" She is there to provide contrast with Wonder Woman, and as a kind of side show freak. She's shock value. A big woman who loves herself? Who doesn't want to change? Whaaaaaaat? As much as I want to like the character, I can't get away from the fact that she is treated as a curiosity.
Through the years, a lot has changed with Etta. The attitude with which she was handled changed. A lot. She joined the airforce, was aid to a General and to Steve Trevor, and in at least one version she eventually married him, displacing him as Wonder Woman's love interest. She's gone from body proud, to weight concious and back, she's been black, and white, fat and thin.
My favorite incarnation of Etta is from The Legend Of Wonder Woman, a digital comic soon to be released as a collection in hardcover. It sends Princess Diana back to college. It's an origin story of sorts, in which Diana learns how to live in the modern world (the modern world being America in the 1940's. Etta is once again the head of The Holliday Girls (now a girl group a la The Andrews Sisters), and back to being more ample. She's beautiful, confident, and relate-able. No longer relegated to comic relief, yet retaining the sass and moxie that made her unique. Are there a couple digs? Yes. As readers we are supposed to wonder at her grand ambitions to be a Hollywood star wooed by Gable, with no thoughts that her ample proportions might be an obstacle, and we the readers are supposed to smirk a bit. But it's progress. Major progress.
And what's next for Etta Candy? She's featured in the upcoming Wonder Woman film, of course, and she still has that damn name. Etta, as played by Lucy Davis, seems to be taking on some of the comic duties, but in a way that is much more modern and respectful. In many ways she seems to be the eyes and ears of the audience. Our "way in" to the character. It's definitely a fine line to tread, allowing Etta her unique appeal and power (he curvy figure being a major component of which) without turning her into a figure of fun.
But through all these incarnations, no matter how grim and gritty the tone of the book or story, no matter how slender she is, she has been saddled with that awful name. Etta Candy. It's not even a real name. It's a pun, like a bad drag name. When she's heavy it's insulting, and when she's slender it's incongruous and takes you out of the story, because it's a relic of a less accepting age when men were the sole dictators of the rule of beauty. As long as that name is tied to the character she won't be completely freed to be the in charge positive force she could and should be.
And yet... some things need to be changed as they age, because in today's context they go against they go against the original intent of the piece. The piece under discussion, while not Shakespeare, is certainly iconic and embedded in th current culture. We are speaking of Wonder Woman, or to be more specific, cohort... Etta. Etta Candy. Yeah. You got it. She "etta candy". She etta lot o' candy and got real fat.
Etta was introduced in the second issue of Wonder Woman, and was supposedly born so thin and malnourished that she nearly died. What saved her? Chocolate of course! Lots and lots of chocolate. She ate a shit ton of it and got hefty. Health problems over!
Now, for those of you out there insisting that Etta is kick ass and awesome? That she's some kind of pioneer for the appreciation of self and of our own bodies, however they may be shaped? I wish I agreed with you.
There is some evidence that supports your claim. Yes, in one issue, Etta magically gains Wonder Woman's body and decides she prefers her own. Sweet! How body positive! If it were not for the fact that her choice to keep her figure is written with all the jocularity and "can you believe it" whizz bang that comics could muster back then. Her choice was at most a bone thrown to the heavy girls out there, and at worst a joke based on the incredulity that anyone would choose to be that size.
Yes Etta saves Wonder Woman in a lot of the issues. and has plenty of opportunities to be heroic. She loves herself, loves her body, and stands up for herself and her friends with strength and bravado. She is the leader of The Holliday Girls, a sorority that aids Wonder Woman in her adventures and is often taking down oppressors wherever they may pop up. They also get into a lot of freaky shit behind the scenes...
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| Etta Candy in the Modern Age |
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| Etta Candy as played by Beatrice Colen |
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| Etta Candy in the New 52 |
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| Etta Candy in Wonder Woman #1 |
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| Grant Morrison's version from "Earth One" harkens back to the original |
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| Etta Candy in Wonder Woman (The Animated Film) |
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| Etta Candy, as featured in The Legend Of Wonder Woman by Renae De Liz and Ray Dillon |
But through all these incarnations, no matter how grim and gritty the tone of the book or story, no matter how slender she is, she has been saddled with that awful name. Etta Candy. It's not even a real name. It's a pun, like a bad drag name. When she's heavy it's insulting, and when she's slender it's incongruous and takes you out of the story, because it's a relic of a less accepting age when men were the sole dictators of the rule of beauty. As long as that name is tied to the character she won't be completely freed to be the in charge positive force she could and should be.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Coming Soon: Power, Grace, Wisdom, Wonder
I've said it before. How can a woman who stands for peace, an alternate way of living from the violence of man, carry a sword? Why? Who decided this should be? In the recently released trailer for the June 2017 release of the looooong awaited Wonder Woman film, the fucking sword is very prevalent. And she seems very ready to "whip it out". Now that said, she seems to use it not to hack at people, but at things-- wood, weapons, and to distract and dazzle. To my mind her golden lasso does just as good a job, but I suppose you can't expect the movie to go TOO far from it's usual philosophy that for women to be as good as men they must be warriors(although, in truth, I do).
Apart from the presence of the sword, there's a lot to be excited about with this trailer. There is a great screen chemistry between Gal Gadot and Chris Pine's, and he carries a lot of the humor featured in the trailer to great affect. Etta Candy (Wonder Woman's earthly side kick from the 40's) even makes an appearance, and she's handled with the right amount of care, or so it seems at least from this tiny glimpse. Although, can I for one say let's get rid of that awful, insulting name. "Etta Candy"???? Aw, for fuck's sake.
I did think it interesting that the setting for the movie is not World War II, but World War I. The original story was so firmly grounded in the mid-twentieth century aesthetic and mindset, that I never thought they would set it anywhere except the forties, assuming they didn't set it in the present. This decision does a few things though... it distances the look from campy visual aesthetics and anything "Old Hollywood". As much as I love the forties, that glamor, that packaging and that era has become a lot more associated with camp, and for a film that wants to have the appropriate amount of humor and relatively camp free, I understand it.
It also sets it apart from Captain America and its "aw shucks" mentality, which worked beautifully in that film, but anything similar at this point from a competing franchise's character could be seen as retreading through subject matter that has already been done exceedingly well.
Finally, and possibly most significantly, this time period coincides with the women's suffrage movement, the heroine's of which were major inspirations for the character. The realization of a major achievement for women's equality could be a wonderful context to really show Wonder Woman in all her glory.
I have to say, this could be a really fun and empowering film, and Gadot certainly seems strong enough, extremely charismatic (in a super serious way, taking care of business way).
Apart from the presence of the sword, there's a lot to be excited about with this trailer. There is a great screen chemistry between Gal Gadot and Chris Pine's, and he carries a lot of the humor featured in the trailer to great affect. Etta Candy (Wonder Woman's earthly side kick from the 40's) even makes an appearance, and she's handled with the right amount of care, or so it seems at least from this tiny glimpse. Although, can I for one say let's get rid of that awful, insulting name. "Etta Candy"???? Aw, for fuck's sake.
I did think it interesting that the setting for the movie is not World War II, but World War I. The original story was so firmly grounded in the mid-twentieth century aesthetic and mindset, that I never thought they would set it anywhere except the forties, assuming they didn't set it in the present. This decision does a few things though... it distances the look from campy visual aesthetics and anything "Old Hollywood". As much as I love the forties, that glamor, that packaging and that era has become a lot more associated with camp, and for a film that wants to have the appropriate amount of humor and relatively camp free, I understand it.
It also sets it apart from Captain America and its "aw shucks" mentality, which worked beautifully in that film, but anything similar at this point from a competing franchise's character could be seen as retreading through subject matter that has already been done exceedingly well.
Finally, and possibly most significantly, this time period coincides with the women's suffrage movement, the heroine's of which were major inspirations for the character. The realization of a major achievement for women's equality could be a wonderful context to really show Wonder Woman in all her glory.
I have to say, this could be a really fun and empowering film, and Gadot certainly seems strong enough, extremely charismatic (in a super serious way, taking care of business way).
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Morning At the Museum
Last week, thanks to a friend of mine, I was able to spend a little time at The American Museum of Natural History before it opened, and of course I headed straight for the prehistoric exhibits.
It's an odd and giddy experience, to be in the presence of what can begin to feel like living creatures, and to have them all to one's self. Not to have to fight the crowds.
I took a few photos, and while I can't convey exactly what it felt like, hopefully this will give you a glimpse of it.
It's an odd and giddy experience, to be in the presence of what can begin to feel like living creatures, and to have them all to one's self. Not to have to fight the crowds.
I took a few photos, and while I can't convey exactly what it felt like, hopefully this will give you a glimpse of it.
Friday, July 15, 2016
Diane Arbus at the Met
There's a new exhibition of some of Diane Arbus' earlier photography, and I will be there if only to see this photo in person.
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| Diane Arbus- Female Impersonator Holding Long Gloves, 1959, Hempstead, L.I. |
There's something so brave and vulnerable about the subject, and the seedy theatricality of the dressing room is so...lush. I admire his courage, his beauty, and as someone who has performed in women's clothing a few times, feel a kinship with him. I know how dangerous this was for him, and how different the world was, and I wish I could know what happened to him. But maybe it's better to imagine it for myself.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Visited By "Angels"
I've been thinking a lot lately about Angels in America. It's one of the most beautiful pieces of art I've ever experienced, and I've seen and felt different ways about it, as I changed and grew. It's a piece that haunts me, like Streetcar, as it has a significance to my inner life-- my fears, my hopes, that I can't completely fathom, but feel in my gut. And each time I explore it, it hits me with a little more resonance.
The first time I saw the play I was with a girl I was seeing at the time. We'd been together for about a year, though never "officially" (her decision, not mine) and around the time I met her I had had my first heady experience with another man. He'd pursued me relentlessly at a time I felt very UN-pursuable, and being with him began to unlock feelings in me that I'd previously thought I could just ignore. That idea of the closet?? It was a different thing for me. The "closet" was never something I was knowingly locked inside. Rather, it was a place inside me that I was choosing to ignore. A locked corridor that I was afraid, if I opened its doors, I would never be able to close. I was right. I couldn't close it again, once it was open. And I was wrong in the fact that opening that door didn't bring about hopelessness. It didn't turn me into a joke of a human. It made me far more human and honest than I could have thought was possible. And it left me, in many ways, completely the same.
But at the time I first saw that show, I was just "experimenting". I'd never done it in college (no one would have me) and now was the time. I did not see myself as gay. This was not play about me. It was about "them". I could sympathize with them, cry for them, appreciate them, but I was not them. They were not of me.
By the time the HBO mini series came into life, I had really started explore this side of myself. I had met someone who brought about all those mental fireworks I'd thought were a fairy tale. While our relationship didn't last, the decision to never accept anything less than these feelings, that was permanent. And this time? It was a story about me. A story that celebrated my passions, that made them mundane, it put me as a person in history. It gave me a history.
It's true about art that whether it is or isn't appreciated says more about the person viewing it than about the work itself. Art that truly comes from an honest place, a place of inquiry, of self exposure-- it's mere creation is success. It's a gift to the creator and to those who experience it, and it will mean different things to different people. Or to the SAME people, in different parts of their lives. I'm glad I was exposed to works of art at a young age that I could only truly come to understand as I aged, because to have seen them in a hazy blur made it that much more significant when they came into focus a bit more.
There is a piece on Slate.com that is an oral history of the making of Angels in America, and if you have a relationship to this play, I could not recommend it more. It made me feel again all those surges of expectation and jolts of recognition that the show itself made me feel. If you don't know the play? Please watch this mini-series. I beg you.
Today, I am making a trek to Central Park to visit The Bethesda Fountain which is so central to the story, as I feel pretty certain I will be re-visiting this story again to see what else it has in store.
The first time I saw the play I was with a girl I was seeing at the time. We'd been together for about a year, though never "officially" (her decision, not mine) and around the time I met her I had had my first heady experience with another man. He'd pursued me relentlessly at a time I felt very UN-pursuable, and being with him began to unlock feelings in me that I'd previously thought I could just ignore. That idea of the closet?? It was a different thing for me. The "closet" was never something I was knowingly locked inside. Rather, it was a place inside me that I was choosing to ignore. A locked corridor that I was afraid, if I opened its doors, I would never be able to close. I was right. I couldn't close it again, once it was open. And I was wrong in the fact that opening that door didn't bring about hopelessness. It didn't turn me into a joke of a human. It made me far more human and honest than I could have thought was possible. And it left me, in many ways, completely the same.
But at the time I first saw that show, I was just "experimenting". I'd never done it in college (no one would have me) and now was the time. I did not see myself as gay. This was not play about me. It was about "them". I could sympathize with them, cry for them, appreciate them, but I was not them. They were not of me.
By the time the HBO mini series came into life, I had really started explore this side of myself. I had met someone who brought about all those mental fireworks I'd thought were a fairy tale. While our relationship didn't last, the decision to never accept anything less than these feelings, that was permanent. And this time? It was a story about me. A story that celebrated my passions, that made them mundane, it put me as a person in history. It gave me a history.
It's true about art that whether it is or isn't appreciated says more about the person viewing it than about the work itself. Art that truly comes from an honest place, a place of inquiry, of self exposure-- it's mere creation is success. It's a gift to the creator and to those who experience it, and it will mean different things to different people. Or to the SAME people, in different parts of their lives. I'm glad I was exposed to works of art at a young age that I could only truly come to understand as I aged, because to have seen them in a hazy blur made it that much more significant when they came into focus a bit more.
There is a piece on Slate.com that is an oral history of the making of Angels in America, and if you have a relationship to this play, I could not recommend it more. It made me feel again all those surges of expectation and jolts of recognition that the show itself made me feel. If you don't know the play? Please watch this mini-series. I beg you.
Today, I am making a trek to Central Park to visit The Bethesda Fountain which is so central to the story, as I feel pretty certain I will be re-visiting this story again to see what else it has in store.
Year One in New York City (A Recap)
This week begins my second year in New York City and it seems like a good time to assess, to think, and make some new goals-- to think about my achievements, where I have grown and where I need to recommit.
To begin with, I am proud to have made it this far. A year ago I was house sitting in Brooklyn, unemployed, brand new to the city. I had a couple of close connections to keep me grounded, but I was still very much a stranger in town. The time between then and now has largely been a process f familiarizing myself with the culture and finding a way to fit in here- finding y place as a person.
And now? I've been through a lot. I have a full-time job which I've been in for three months(the decision to take said job being something I honestly worry was a "sell-out" move, and yet, we need money to support our creative life don't we?). I spent a wonderful time at The New York Transit Museum and met some truly original people who felt like family in so many ways. I'm so grateful for Polly, Kristin, Marie, Berto, Christina and Kathleen, as well as all the other amazing folks there, and for the opportunity to perform for little tots. Being there was a major highlight of my year, a tremendous blessing, and I continually wish I could have made it work for a longer time.
And now? I've been through a lot. I have a full-time job which I've been in for three months(the decision to take said job being something I honestly worry was a "sell-out" move, and yet, we need money to support our creative life don't we?). I spent a wonderful time at The New York Transit Museum and met some truly original people who felt like family in so many ways. I'm so grateful for Polly, Kristin, Marie, Berto, Christina and Kathleen, as well as all the other amazing folks there, and for the opportunity to perform for little tots. Being there was a major highlight of my year, a tremendous blessing, and I continually wish I could have made it work for a longer time.
I got my Equity card and booked a job upstate, my only official gig so far. I have mixed emotions about that. Yes! It was the universe affirming my decision, giving me immediate metaphorical hugs, but since then, there has not been much career activity, except for the kind that can't be measured. I've been getting seen, hopefully planting seeds, making connections. As far as having my card? I feel like now is the time for me to be trying new things, working in smaller venues, experimenting, meeting people. Am I letting my Equity status hamper that? I've auditioned perhaps twenty-five other times and have yet to receive a call-back. Most of the auditions have been for big shows, Broadway, with a few summer stock jobs mixed in. I feel daunted by the fact that I have yet to book anything else. On the up-side, I worked with an amazing pianist who has really encouraged my move and been very helpful in expanding my book. I HAVE A BOOK! I've received encouraging communication from an agent, even if it was really just "let me know when you are in something and I'll come see you".
There's been so much amazing theatre in my year here, some of it experimental, and some very mainstream. My highlights would have to be seeing the revival of The King And I, and sobbing through the entire production. It's proof positive that an amazing director, creative team and cast can make a classic piece really breathe. I connected with so many stories that night, felt such empathy for ALL the characters. It was truly breathtaking, and one of my favorite nights in the theatre ever. I also saw Deaf West's revival of Spring Awakening, saw the legendary Charles Busch both in his cabaret at 54 Below, and in his most recent play Cleopatra.
I've gotten closer with two of my friends from college, and I've been really grateful to have them to cheer for and cheer me on, to commiserate with and to stay focused with. One of them I literally ran into in my neighborhood, and it was a uniquely serendipitous New York kind of moment which we luckily both took advantage of. I also reconnected with a friend from High School. She's a terrific, and very prolific playwright who has seen a lot of success, and we've shared writing sessions, I've joined her writer's group for a session, we've delved into seriously nerdy boardgames, and been oddly fascinated by Korean dramas on T.V.
Of course while some friendships have flourished, one, in particular did not, and the hardest thing I did this year was lose my best friend of over twenty years. I don't regret any of the decisions I made or any of the things that happened, as they brought me here to this moment, which I am grateful for. I do still grieve the loss of the friendship, however, at this point there is no turning back for me.
Creatively I have done a few things. I've kept up with this blog, written a short play, guested on a friend's podcast, dipped my foot into the audition pool, and written 40,000 words of a novel which I began in November. Working on it is like a marathon- tiny bit by tiny bit. My goals for growth in this upcoming year are most concentrated in the arts. I want to redouble my efforts in auditioning and growing my skills, collect more monologues and songs, and join a class to both learn and enlarge my creative community. I am here in New York to create, and I cannot let fear beat me into submission. I will finish my rough draft by next July, and I will have performed in a cabaret venue--even if it's an open-mic.
One of the reasons I came out to New York was to explore my romantic side more, and that has probably been the most active side of my life. In Austin it was beginning to feel like I had been through most of the men that I would be interested in and that would be interested in me, and I was so tired of trying to meet men at bars, because apart from one pretty lovely person, I had only found brief flings there. In New York I have been on many dates, met some really great guys, and while I am not at this moment in a long term relationship, it has been really exciting, and a learning experience, certainly.
So, the end of one year finds me in a different neighborhood than I started, one that I had eyed enviously before I lived there, and it finds me with a really lovely roommate who I could not be more grateful for. But what happens next?
Sunday, July 3, 2016
To Being True
Two wonderful people got married last week, and I was lucky enough to be there. I flew home to Austin for a few days, and feel really grateful to be a part of their wedding. It was a simple and elegant wedding, on a boat, and while the two grooms were of course the most instrumental in making it happen, their was so much love and support from everyone to make the evening work, that it made the end result so much more satisfying.
I want so much for these two people, feel fiercely devoted, and am proud of them. I admire their courage, their strength of vision and their seemingly effortless kindness. There was a moment after the ceremony, when I stopped dancing long enough to take everything in, and as I watched everyone laughing and dancing and making merry under the night sky as the boat meandered down Lady Bird Lake, I was just so charmed. And taken by how important it is to be true to yourself. To express one's self honestly. And I mean, completely separated from one's sexuality. To be free enough to discard the masks that we cling to in order to present ourselves as perfect people. To own who we are, the things we admire, to stand up for them, and what we value, these two things are instrumental to living a meaningful life. In fact, they may be the key to it.
Ch-Ch-Changes
I'm a little unsettled this morning. I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream in which one of my best friends and I had had an argument. It was a combo "Actor's Nightmare" and "fight with your friend so I am irrationally angry at them when I wake up" dream. I know dreams are dreams, but I also wonder if there's a legitimate issue buried under there somewhere. At some point I'll have to wade into it all and try to come up with something.
That and a strange sense of "the walls closing in" coupled with some issues in a project I'm writing are coming together to make it a disquieting morning.
I'm currently at my coffee shop, and it's been making some changes. This bitch don't like changes in things that I think are already working. Gossip Coffee shop had a great brand, modern and cozy decor, delicious donuts with off-beat flavors like Prosciutto Guinness and these amazing rice puddings. They offered something that most places do not, and were a really unique and friendly spot. But things don't feel the same lately. It feels like they are futzing around with success trying to make more success and in the process they may damage the brand they've created.
The rice puddings and sandwiches? Gone. In their place as of yesterday? Gelato. Gross. Now don't get me wrong. I like gelato. I'm sure they'll get a lot of people who want to sample the flavors, but I don't go to a coffee shop for gelato, ad it feels like a sell-out. Plus, I'd developed a fun rapport with one of the servers, and I haven't seen her in a while now. I fear she's gone off to greener pastures.
As for the writing issues? I've been working on a project for about eight months now, am about 40,000 words in, and realize I've strayed a bit from some of the elements that drew me into the story in the first place. It's an idea I've had for years, and then it got influenced and altered a bit by fresher experiences. These experiences feel more authentic, and are easier to pull from and play with, but that lack the sense of 'fun' that the world had before that I wanted to luxuriate in. I've already stopped my progress once to go back and revise the first draft, and it felt like a mistake. I promised I wouldn't do it again. And yet, major setting changes and character character changes are necessary to go back to the original feeling. Should I continue down this rabbit hole that I've decided may not work, and then change it later once I've finished the rough draft? Or should I go back and make those alterations? The risk in doing that is that I may forever be making changes and never get the end of the story. A feeling of a Sissyphean struggle could be daunting and cause me to scrap the whole thing.
I think the answer for now is to make notes on the struggles, the issues, possible resolutions, and how they may be resolved, ways to inject more of the original essence in what I have, and then continue on wth the draft. These elements aren't integral to the plot, and may not be the most difficult to change. And who knows what I will discover if I continue the way I've been going?
That and a strange sense of "the walls closing in" coupled with some issues in a project I'm writing are coming together to make it a disquieting morning.
I'm currently at my coffee shop, and it's been making some changes. This bitch don't like changes in things that I think are already working. Gossip Coffee shop had a great brand, modern and cozy decor, delicious donuts with off-beat flavors like Prosciutto Guinness and these amazing rice puddings. They offered something that most places do not, and were a really unique and friendly spot. But things don't feel the same lately. It feels like they are futzing around with success trying to make more success and in the process they may damage the brand they've created.
The rice puddings and sandwiches? Gone. In their place as of yesterday? Gelato. Gross. Now don't get me wrong. I like gelato. I'm sure they'll get a lot of people who want to sample the flavors, but I don't go to a coffee shop for gelato, ad it feels like a sell-out. Plus, I'd developed a fun rapport with one of the servers, and I haven't seen her in a while now. I fear she's gone off to greener pastures.
As for the writing issues? I've been working on a project for about eight months now, am about 40,000 words in, and realize I've strayed a bit from some of the elements that drew me into the story in the first place. It's an idea I've had for years, and then it got influenced and altered a bit by fresher experiences. These experiences feel more authentic, and are easier to pull from and play with, but that lack the sense of 'fun' that the world had before that I wanted to luxuriate in. I've already stopped my progress once to go back and revise the first draft, and it felt like a mistake. I promised I wouldn't do it again. And yet, major setting changes and character character changes are necessary to go back to the original feeling. Should I continue down this rabbit hole that I've decided may not work, and then change it later once I've finished the rough draft? Or should I go back and make those alterations? The risk in doing that is that I may forever be making changes and never get the end of the story. A feeling of a Sissyphean struggle could be daunting and cause me to scrap the whole thing.
I think the answer for now is to make notes on the struggles, the issues, possible resolutions, and how they may be resolved, ways to inject more of the original essence in what I have, and then continue on wth the draft. These elements aren't integral to the plot, and may not be the most difficult to change. And who knows what I will discover if I continue the way I've been going?
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Dita Von Teese on Individual Expression
"You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be somebody who hates peaches." -- Dita Von Teese (Performer and Author of "Your Beauty Mark: The Ultimate Guide to Eccentric Glamour")
Friday, June 24, 2016
Love Must Win
I've been out of commission for longer than usual, and I admit that part of that had to do with the Orlando shooting. Once that happened, it felt like writing about anything else was pointless, and that writing about the shooting felt just as pointless, because within two days it felt like everything that could and should be said had long been expressed. And yet, it has meant too much to me, and to so many people I care about and feel kinship with, for me to ignore it.
I admit that when I first heard about the shooting, I thought "oh Lord. Here's another." I just wanted to shove it out of mind. I didn't want to unpack it and explore the personal significance of this act, and that this happened at a gay club. And it wouldn't be that difficult to push this out of my mind really, to distract myself and move on. This world is full of distractions and we as Americans are great at giving into them. Food, sex, television, alcohol, drugs, sensationalism. All of these are distractions, and I avail myself of a number of them. Why look at this and feel real feelings about this when there is pain everywhere and we feel pointless to stop it? It's just as easy to grab a slice of pizza, or have a shot, or change the channel.
And there's another reason it could be very easy to brush off this act of violence (after showing the appropriate amount of outward sadness so that people don't think I'm callous). It's a sad, but true fact, that I am becoming deadened to violence.
Aren't we all? We hear numbers on the news, shootings, violent beatings, tremendous acts of hatred. At what point did these living human beings become somehow "fictionalized" in my mind? Is it a defense mechanism? Surely. Is it partly from being inundated by violence from the media? Yes. Is it my duty to overcome this deadening of my senses? To realize the truth and the importance of these people's lives? Absolutely. Because if we just think to ourselves "how sad" and then push it away so we don't have to deal with the reality of it? Nothing will change. Politicians will make pawns of them. The news media will sensationalize them. And some people will own this violence as if it were there's.
All of these avoid the fact that these very real people are gone and have left very real people with a massive sense of loss. I cannot claim to know every complexity behind what happen. I only know that this was a crime of hate, targeted at gay people (but believe me, the man didn't need to be an Isis sympathizer to feel hatred and fear towards gay people, as there are many people who do that and rationalize it by saying they are Christian). As a gay person myself, I felt it important to pay respect to the people who were out living there truth on the night they died. To make their lives as real as they could be for myself. To mourn them, and to weep for the people left behind.
I went to the vigil at The Stonewall Inn, and while it was a volatile event, full of a wide variety of emotions, I am so glad I went. I was able to get right into the heart of the crowd, about one hundred feet from the speakers. Yes, It threatened to become a political rally other than an act of remembrance and respect, and there were moments when I thought that some of the angrier people in the crowd were going to lash out and bring about more violence (these things have a way of feeding on each other. "You hit me, I will hit someone else) but I was grateful that in spite of the anger and fear, that love and hope and respect won out. Because as people we owe it to ourselves to feel all the emotions that these events stir in us. And I can only hope that we can feel all of those emotions and still choose to love. Because without the understanding of what happened, without the reaching out, it is too easy to dismiss what happened. It is too easy to go on as before. But without the choosing of love, it is too easy to devolve into more lashing out.
I do want to share a couple of the pieces related to the tragedy that have moved me and speak to the truth of the loss and what we must take from it far better than I can. The first is a small speech from Stephen Colbert:
The second is a beautiful piece by Justin Torres printed in The Washington Post entitled In Praise of Latin Night at the Queer Club.
I admit that when I first heard about the shooting, I thought "oh Lord. Here's another." I just wanted to shove it out of mind. I didn't want to unpack it and explore the personal significance of this act, and that this happened at a gay club. And it wouldn't be that difficult to push this out of my mind really, to distract myself and move on. This world is full of distractions and we as Americans are great at giving into them. Food, sex, television, alcohol, drugs, sensationalism. All of these are distractions, and I avail myself of a number of them. Why look at this and feel real feelings about this when there is pain everywhere and we feel pointless to stop it? It's just as easy to grab a slice of pizza, or have a shot, or change the channel.
And there's another reason it could be very easy to brush off this act of violence (after showing the appropriate amount of outward sadness so that people don't think I'm callous). It's a sad, but true fact, that I am becoming deadened to violence.
Aren't we all? We hear numbers on the news, shootings, violent beatings, tremendous acts of hatred. At what point did these living human beings become somehow "fictionalized" in my mind? Is it a defense mechanism? Surely. Is it partly from being inundated by violence from the media? Yes. Is it my duty to overcome this deadening of my senses? To realize the truth and the importance of these people's lives? Absolutely. Because if we just think to ourselves "how sad" and then push it away so we don't have to deal with the reality of it? Nothing will change. Politicians will make pawns of them. The news media will sensationalize them. And some people will own this violence as if it were there's.
All of these avoid the fact that these very real people are gone and have left very real people with a massive sense of loss. I cannot claim to know every complexity behind what happen. I only know that this was a crime of hate, targeted at gay people (but believe me, the man didn't need to be an Isis sympathizer to feel hatred and fear towards gay people, as there are many people who do that and rationalize it by saying they are Christian). As a gay person myself, I felt it important to pay respect to the people who were out living there truth on the night they died. To make their lives as real as they could be for myself. To mourn them, and to weep for the people left behind.
I went to the vigil at The Stonewall Inn, and while it was a volatile event, full of a wide variety of emotions, I am so glad I went. I was able to get right into the heart of the crowd, about one hundred feet from the speakers. Yes, It threatened to become a political rally other than an act of remembrance and respect, and there were moments when I thought that some of the angrier people in the crowd were going to lash out and bring about more violence (these things have a way of feeding on each other. "You hit me, I will hit someone else) but I was grateful that in spite of the anger and fear, that love and hope and respect won out. Because as people we owe it to ourselves to feel all the emotions that these events stir in us. And I can only hope that we can feel all of those emotions and still choose to love. Because without the understanding of what happened, without the reaching out, it is too easy to dismiss what happened. It is too easy to go on as before. But without the choosing of love, it is too easy to devolve into more lashing out.
I do want to share a couple of the pieces related to the tragedy that have moved me and speak to the truth of the loss and what we must take from it far better than I can. The first is a small speech from Stephen Colbert:
The second is a beautiful piece by Justin Torres printed in The Washington Post entitled In Praise of Latin Night at the Queer Club.
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Splash...Again.
Yesterday I opened my roommate's Entertainment Weekly and learned, a little late in the game as apparently the news has been out for about a week, that Brian Grazer is involved in a re-make of Splash, the 1984 rom-com he produced and developed about a naive mermaid and a lonely New Yorker. And according to Grazer, the preparations are very hush-hush and he can't talk about it much at all. He did say there "is a star involved" and that they are inspired more by the original concept of the movie when it was still titled-- get ready for it- Wet. Oh, and one more thing! There's a twist to this version, as it's more from "the perspective of..." and this is where Grazer truly hushed up.
Now, Splash is one of my favorite films from my childhood years. I saw it thirty four times before I stopped counting, and Daryl Hannah was my first childhood crush (unless you count the confusing tingling that happened every time Tommy from Alice walked into Mel's Diner). I collected every article she appeared in... her cover feature in Rolling Stone? It went into the Daryl Hannah scrapbook.
The article from People? Into the scrapbook.
There is speculation that it will be gender switched, and about a merman, rather than a mermaid, which could frankly be a lot of fun. Of course, then you have to deal with a lot of gender politics because the original was actually a bit unusual in that it's a story about a man giving up on the ideas of the "perfect" woman and opening himself up to real, messy love in which you are equal partners. Having a story about a woman who's life is changed by the appearance of a merman, whom she then alters her entire existence to be with? Blah. Been there. Hate the message.
Regardless of how the film ultimately turns out, I'll be watching and reading to see how the story develops.
Now, Splash is one of my favorite films from my childhood years. I saw it thirty four times before I stopped counting, and Daryl Hannah was my first childhood crush (unless you count the confusing tingling that happened every time Tommy from Alice walked into Mel's Diner). I collected every article she appeared in... her cover feature in Rolling Stone? It went into the Daryl Hannah scrapbook.
Everywhere she was, I sought her out. And for awhile, she was EVERYWHERE. Clan Of The Cave Bear, Blade Runner, Reckless (that last one I had to wait a while to see because it was a relatively filthy romance about "reckless" teen love against all odds).
But it was more than just Daryl Hannah that won me over. II already had a mermaid obsession, and the film itself is such a charming, quirky, uniquely eighties comedy. It has a combination of comedic talents that I can't imagine them finding again. Tom Hanks? John Candy? Eugene Levy? Dodie Goodman??? And it's such a hopeful film. Stories of mermaids and mortals up to that point, had all ended in tragedy. SPOILER ALERT: The fact that this one ends in such a sweet and wonderful way, with the man for once leaving everything behind for love- It got me.
Today, it's pretty easy to forget what a massive hit it was during its initial release. It was one of the top ten grossing films of the year, the inspiration for a number of supernatural rom-coms like Date With An Angel, and Daryl Hannah's High Spirits, and "spawned" a sequel (which fell through when Tom Hanks couldn't do it and became a T.V. movie). And the film's ironic joke of naming the mermaid after Madison Avenue caused the name Madison to be one of the most popular names for girls in the early 21st century. In fact, Disney's Ariel was originally a blond, but they made her a redhead in order to differentiate her from Madison.
So, I love the film. But I am not upset about this remake. This new film will not ruin the impact of the original, and I think art inspired by art is an amazing thing. Yes, I am tired of re-makes in general because in so many cases they seem like a money grab rather than a creative endeavor, and the success of the new Splash will largely depend on whether or not they can make a different kind of magic and tell a different story, that really needs to be told, and is not different just for the sake of being different.
Which leads me to this twist that Grazer hinted at. "the perspective of..."What? The perspective of the mermaid? I mean, the beautiful thing about the original is that it split the stories perspective. It was about both of them. Yes, Alan Bauer is the protagonist, but the movie is just as much about the sacrifices she is willing to make. And if you tell it completely from her perspective, you get a modern day "Little Mermaid" (the Disney version with the happy ending where she doesn't get rejected by the man she sacrificed everything for and then turns into sea foam/a water spirit).
There is speculation that it will be gender switched, and about a merman, rather than a mermaid, which could frankly be a lot of fun. Of course, then you have to deal with a lot of gender politics because the original was actually a bit unusual in that it's a story about a man giving up on the ideas of the "perfect" woman and opening himself up to real, messy love in which you are equal partners. Having a story about a woman who's life is changed by the appearance of a merman, whom she then alters her entire existence to be with? Blah. Been there. Hate the message.
Regardless of how the film ultimately turns out, I'll be watching and reading to see how the story develops.
Friday, June 10, 2016
Happy 94th Birthday, Judy!!!
When it comes to paying tribute to Judy on her birthday, it is really difficult to pick just one moment that perfectly demonstrates her contribution to entertainment, and to performing. A lot of this is simply because there are so many different facets to her. It's hard to find a clip that captures everything, and that I haven't already shared here at one point. That being said, here is a vocal track of Garland singing You Made Me Love You on The Bing Crosby Show at a point in her career when she was physically robust and her interpretive skills had been freed from the girl next door image she was tied to at MGM. It's a fresh, more grown-up Garland. Enjoy!
Night Of A Thousand Judys: Part 3
Seeing as I've dragged this subject out longer than was probably necessary, I will not belabor my feelings on the show itself, however...there are some parts of it that I feel really need to be praised, especially those moments, and those performers who approached the material with a true heart.
Surely, one of the reasons Garland touched a chord with the gays is that she was an incredibly sensitive and emotional person, and a brilliant artist who was courageous enough to let that emotion be her artistic medium. As a sensitive little boy learning that there was a side of me that should be hidden and repressed, when I found this woman who blatantly tossed that philosophy aside and used all of her surging emotions as a kind of super power? It hit me that there was a different way to be, and it was just one of the things that made her my hero.
There were some pretty powerful entertainers onstage who illustrated this principal to perfection.
The host, Justin Sayre, as much as anyone, spoke his truth up on that stage He opened the show in a black flowing blouse trimmed with beads, sporting high heel pumps, and backed by a bevy of lanky young dancing boys. He cavorted, he schmoozed, and he sang I Feel A Song Coming On both reveling in the joy of the number, and without a hint of irony. It was one of the most successful productions of the concert and really got me geared up for a great show. Throughout the rest of the evening Justin was candid, vulnerable, self deprecating, and really respectful of Garland, as well as the issue that the show is raising funds for, to provide support for homeless LGBTQ youth.
Other highlights included Barrett Foa, singing a sweet and sincere version of I Happen to Like New York, and T. Oliver Reid really nailing the visceral excitement of Judy's Come Rain Or Come Shine--- Sidebar: I couldn't help but notice that the man I couldn't help but notice that the man performed in a bright white tuxedo, and when he came out for the finale, an ensemble sing a-long, he had switched to a black tux. He was the only one in the concert, that I noticed, who worked in a costume change. Good on you, T. Oliver Reid.,--- and a band that really soared.
One of the big musical discoveries, for me, was Gabrielle Stravelli. She sang I Could Go On Singing effortlessly, with a true respect for the material, a gorgeous instrument, and with an approach that made the song her own, and yet, stayed true to the spirit of the original. She didn't showboat or place vocal stylings above substance, she just let it out. Every beat, every note, was golden. I will absolutely be seeking her out in the future.
Surely, one of the reasons Garland touched a chord with the gays is that she was an incredibly sensitive and emotional person, and a brilliant artist who was courageous enough to let that emotion be her artistic medium. As a sensitive little boy learning that there was a side of me that should be hidden and repressed, when I found this woman who blatantly tossed that philosophy aside and used all of her surging emotions as a kind of super power? It hit me that there was a different way to be, and it was just one of the things that made her my hero.
There were some pretty powerful entertainers onstage who illustrated this principal to perfection.
The host, Justin Sayre, as much as anyone, spoke his truth up on that stage He opened the show in a black flowing blouse trimmed with beads, sporting high heel pumps, and backed by a bevy of lanky young dancing boys. He cavorted, he schmoozed, and he sang I Feel A Song Coming On both reveling in the joy of the number, and without a hint of irony. It was one of the most successful productions of the concert and really got me geared up for a great show. Throughout the rest of the evening Justin was candid, vulnerable, self deprecating, and really respectful of Garland, as well as the issue that the show is raising funds for, to provide support for homeless LGBTQ youth.
 |
| Justin Sayre, Kevin Quilon, Adam Perry, Ryan Steele, and Charlie Williams perform "I Feel A Song Coming On" (photo by Stephen Sotokoff) |
Other highlights included Barrett Foa, singing a sweet and sincere version of I Happen to Like New York, and T. Oliver Reid really nailing the visceral excitement of Judy's Come Rain Or Come Shine--- Sidebar: I couldn't help but notice that the man I couldn't help but notice that the man performed in a bright white tuxedo, and when he came out for the finale, an ensemble sing a-long, he had switched to a black tux. He was the only one in the concert, that I noticed, who worked in a costume change. Good on you, T. Oliver Reid.,--- and a band that really soared.
One of the big musical discoveries, for me, was Gabrielle Stravelli. She sang I Could Go On Singing effortlessly, with a true respect for the material, a gorgeous instrument, and with an approach that made the song her own, and yet, stayed true to the spirit of the original. She didn't showboat or place vocal stylings above substance, she just let it out. Every beat, every note, was golden. I will absolutely be seeking her out in the future.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Words Said On The Manhattan Bound N Train Yesterday Morning At 8:07
(A shaggy grey hair,ed man walks into the N Train at the Queensborough Plaza stop on a busy Tuesday morning. He has a booming French accent, and wears a soiled trench coat)
Oh look!!! You are all here! Hello America, you have arrived! Aren't we all blessed? Look at you. Just look at yourselves.
(I surreptitiously, and avoiding the crazy man's glance, look at us. We aren't much to look at)
Aren't you lucky? To be here? And you are so beautiful! And do you know who loves you?????
(I'm pretty sure I can guess)
JESUS LOVES YOU!!!! He does! Don't you know it! I want you to know how much I love you, and how much Jesus does, and how great America is! God gave his son to you!! I think we should all sing. Let's sing and pray! Our father holy god Jesus! Thank you thank you thank you...
(It's at this pint that I stop pretending to be tuned out and actually tune out. And yes, this may make me seem like a cynical person, but I don't need some asshole shouting at me about the sacrifice of Jesus on a Wednesday morning at 8:07. I just want to play my fucking Wizard of Oz match three game and get to work)
That's it America! Thank you, Thanks to Jesus and have a wonderful day!! Don't forget that Jesus loves you, and pray everyday!
(He exits. A moment goes by. I breathe a mental sigh of relief. He enters in the next door)
Hello, America! You made it!! (stops for a second) Have I already been in this car???
(Against my better judgement, I respond- "Yes, you have. You were just here." It's the Jurassic Park equivalent of moving when the fucking T-Rex is sniffing three feet away from you. At this time the doors close and the train moves on)
I was??? I was!!! Well, goodness that's ok! (Looking toward me) Big Man!!!
(I despise being called 'big man'. Loathe it)
You're so tall, Mr. Man! You know what? You are taller than JESUS!!!!! Do you know what you look like? (I involuntarily shudder, and part of me wants to tell him that it's not like Jesus was on record as being that tall so being taller than him is not a great feat) You look like an Oak tree!!!!
And you (he turns to a twenty-something woman with her boyfriend) You look like a cloud!
(She mumbles, "A what?)
(loud assertive man with the French accent whispers) You look like a cloud. (He points his finger close to her nose, like he's going to "boop it". He does not "boop" it. At this point the train stops at 49th, where it's thankfully time for me to make a hasty exit. I hear him as I leave)
Well, goodbye America, and thank you! And don't forget who loves you!! It's JEEEEEESUSSSSSS!
Oh look!!! You are all here! Hello America, you have arrived! Aren't we all blessed? Look at you. Just look at yourselves.
(I surreptitiously, and avoiding the crazy man's glance, look at us. We aren't much to look at)
Aren't you lucky? To be here? And you are so beautiful! And do you know who loves you?????
(I'm pretty sure I can guess)
JESUS LOVES YOU!!!! He does! Don't you know it! I want you to know how much I love you, and how much Jesus does, and how great America is! God gave his son to you!! I think we should all sing. Let's sing and pray! Our father holy god Jesus! Thank you thank you thank you...
(It's at this pint that I stop pretending to be tuned out and actually tune out. And yes, this may make me seem like a cynical person, but I don't need some asshole shouting at me about the sacrifice of Jesus on a Wednesday morning at 8:07. I just want to play my fucking Wizard of Oz match three game and get to work)
That's it America! Thank you, Thanks to Jesus and have a wonderful day!! Don't forget that Jesus loves you, and pray everyday!
(He exits. A moment goes by. I breathe a mental sigh of relief. He enters in the next door)
Hello, America! You made it!! (stops for a second) Have I already been in this car???
(Against my better judgement, I respond- "Yes, you have. You were just here." It's the Jurassic Park equivalent of moving when the fucking T-Rex is sniffing three feet away from you. At this time the doors close and the train moves on)
I was??? I was!!! Well, goodness that's ok! (Looking toward me) Big Man!!!
(I despise being called 'big man'. Loathe it)
You're so tall, Mr. Man! You know what? You are taller than JESUS!!!!! Do you know what you look like? (I involuntarily shudder, and part of me wants to tell him that it's not like Jesus was on record as being that tall so being taller than him is not a great feat) You look like an Oak tree!!!!
And you (he turns to a twenty-something woman with her boyfriend) You look like a cloud!
(She mumbles, "A what?)
(loud assertive man with the French accent whispers) You look like a cloud. (He points his finger close to her nose, like he's going to "boop it". He does not "boop" it. At this point the train stops at 49th, where it's thankfully time for me to make a hasty exit. I hear him as I leave)
Well, goodbye America, and thank you! And don't forget who loves you!! It's JEEEEEESUSSSSSS!
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