No One Really Wants Everything

I've started the morning off right, at my favorite coffee shop, Gossip Coffee, and am sitting down to a coffee and donut treat.  I've always loved donuts, along with popcorn and soup they make the triumvirate of my favorite foods.  Today, I think I overdid it.  Gossip Coffee makes great donuts, like the Nutella Almond and the Cinnamon Sugar Cookie, however today I saw this in the display window:

It was called "The Everything Donut", and something about it said "take a risk on me!  I have everything!!!"  Of course the reasonable part of my brain said that anything that looks like it was made by a hungover college kid using every fucking thing in his pantry and fridge will taste just like it was made by a hungover college kid using every fucking thing in his pantry and fridge.  But I couldn't help myself.  My nostalgia for the St Patty's day just passed was strong, and there were "Lucky Charms" in there, and green frosting.  And the part of me that missed out on Mardi Gras was taken in by the little edible stars and the multi-colored glitter of a King Cake!  And the woman behind the counter said the customers had liked it.  So I leapt.  And when I got it home in front of my laptop to write, and I took a bite...I regretted it.  It is the grossest combo of flavors imaginable.  Strawberry glaze, chocolate glaze, sprinkles, added to the previously mentioned ingredients...bleh.  BLEH!!!!!  I just wish someone had save me from myself.  Like that coffee server!! She had to know it was disgusting, and she didn't whisper an advisory warning, she didn't give me a subtle grimace or shake her head.  She beckoned me on like a siren on a heap of sugary garbage.  

Oh well.  I guess I'd say I learned a lesson, but this won't stop me from being adventurous in my choices next time.  Maybe I learned to trust my instincts when it comes to this.  In the meantime, as much as I hate tossing this colorful confection, I will.  

But please don't let this keep you from going to Gossip Coffee and trying their coffee, donuts, or flavored rice puddings.  It's an awesome shop, so cozy and beautiful, with a friendly shop and a number of comfy seats and electrical ports (though it DOES get crowded on weekends, like all places around here, so check-in early).  And the donuts are my favorite in town, just not this particular donut.  

A Great Day For The Irish!

Nowhere I've lived thus far has felt like a more appropriate place to be celebrating St. Patrick's Day, than right here in New York City.  When I awoke this morning I donned my green checked button snap shirt and headed out to save a little cash on a pair of dress pants, so I have more office clothing options when I'm making a little "green" (see what I did there?).  Banana Republic had a coupon for the holiday, and on my way there I saw more people in green than you can imagine.  And  when on the subway, there were about eight or nine New York firemen, older gents in pressed uniforms headed to the parade.  It brought a real sense of excitement to me, even though I wasn't participating.  On the street there were groups of people decked out in full regalia, and it was really exciting to see so much buzz for a holiday that prior to living here had just felt like a great excuse for people to put on horrible accents and drink a shit ton of Guinness.

Me?  Last night I baked some Irish soda bread, and I currently have a pot of stew simmering on the stovetop (made with Guinness, of course) and have just finished watching Judy sprinkle some serious charm over an often hokey, but good hearted film called Little Nellie Kelly.  Tonight, my roommate and I will be watching Darby O'Gill and The Little People, and another friend is coming over later to have a drink and eat some stew.  So it should be a pretty cozy evening.

Now, a word for Little Nellie Kelly.  If you want a perfect example of early 1940's schmaltz, patriotism, and overt rapturizing over familial love, you need not look any further.  If you are looking for some really ineffective Irish brogues, this is your film.  Even Judy's is less than stellar, although she more than makes up for it by taking the somewhat wooden dialogue and making it breathe.  She just exudes genuine warmth, and when she opens her mouth to sing, it doesn't get any better.

The first half of the film revolves around a charming but lazy Irishman by the name of Michael Noonan, who rants and raves at his local pub about the menace of work.  His young daughter, Nellie Kelly watches over him and keeps house for him as her mother had passed away some time before.  But when she falls in love and decides to move away to America so that her future husband can find a better opportunity for work, Mr. Noonan is having none of it.  Of course, all three of them eventually make their way to New York City, and there are loads of opportunities for dewey eyed Judy to beam patriotism as images of the American flag, and the Declaration of Independence scroll behind her.

The second half of the film revolves around Nellie Kelly's daughter, also played by Judy, who grows up to become a young woman and is stuck in between her feuding father and grandfather much as her mother had been.  She is pursued by the very stiff and off-putting Douglas McPhail.  He was being groomed by MGM at the time as an operatic lead, but he is a poor match for Judy, and while his voice is lovely and resonant, a great screen presence, he is not.

What makes this film work, as much as it does, are the dual performances of Judy Garland, and the brash and bombastic emoting of Charles Winninger, as her grandfather.  And, I have to admit, that in spite of some flaws, the MGM factory knew how to tell a story and I did find my eyes tearing up a few times during the film.  As a sidetone, this is the first time that Judy was allowed to be the center of a picture in which she is put on a pedestal as a beauty that all the young men are intent on wooing.

For those of you not able to invest the ninety minutes into the film, below is a clip from the St. Patrick's Day parade in which Judy and Douglas sing their little hearts out.

The Tenement Museum of New York

It's been nearly two weeks since I've posted, and one of the reasons it's been so long, though admittedly not the only one,  that I was waylaid, yet again, by a sickness which has been making the rounds.  In spite of my having had it a little over a month ago, it clocked me again and kept me in bed for a good three days before I was able to rejoin the world of the ambulant.

I was still a little out of it when I participated in a tour of the Tenement Museum with my co-workers at The New York Transit Museum as part of a kind of cross-cultural training we've been doing with them.  Some of their staff had been to our museum a few weeks earlier to learn about what the transit experience would have been like for immigrants in the early part of the twentieth century, and we were lucky enough to be able to experience their museum recently to learn more about how our past passengers and staff would have lived.  Cold or not, I was determined to go, as one of the perks of my employment with a center of learning, is that I have many opportunities to experience pieces of history in a way that others might not.  Being paid to tour The Tenement Museum is one such perk.

The Tenement Museum (along with the Transit Museum) is one of a few unique spaces in the city in that it is housed in a practical space.  In the case of The Transit Museum, we are housed in a subway station that is no longer being used to transport commuters and serves educational purposes by storing vintage, accurately restored subway cars from our last century.  We have also have a program in which costumed interpreters inhabit the space much like they would have, and share their stories with visitors.

The Tenement Museum had been an apartment building in operation beginning in 1868, which had been condemned in 1935, and left much as it was at that time.  In the late eighties it was purchased and transformed into an educational space, though much of it was left exactly as it was found, and provides an authentic experience of stepping back in time to the visitor, while allowing the museum to elevate the stories of "ordinary" people.  Visitors today can meet and interact with costumed interpreters portraying people who actually lived in the building many years ago.

The Tenement as discovered in 1988.

 Both museums provide unique views of the city experience as it was, and I consider myself lucky to be a part of an organization working to keep history alive in such a vital way.  Their aim is as much to provide a "feeling" and to imbue a sense of empathy for those who went before, as it is to transmit factual information.  I consider myself lucky to be a part of an organization that values this kind of experience, and works to keep this space alive and vital.  

The Piano Bar

Last Monday found me singing at a piano, shaky with nerves, but gaining confidence from my first vodka soda.  At the piano with me was a charming older gent, who's name may have been Stephen.  The scene was a bar frequented by the older set, often in suits, who lounged in Ethan Allen chairs amongst velvet curtains and hotel carpeting.  I'd come here to meet a date, who upon hearing that I liked antiquated type places, had recommended this place.  When I stepped inside I was a little nervous that I'd be under dressed, but while most of the men were indeed in slacks and ties, they were also almost all over sixty, so a pair of dark blue jeans wasn't going to make me feel much more conspicuous.

The date itself was fine, he was handsome enough, if a little too "inside himself" for my taste.  I don't mind reaching out to people and drawing them out, but I find it so much more fun to be with someone who meets me halfway.  Besides, there's someone else I have an interest in, but seeing as I'm not certain how interested he is in me (those careless arm brushes don't always mean anything) and I'm not wanting to put all my eggs in his basket, I've been going on dates a bit.  Truth be told, I am much more inclined to put all of my proverbial eggs into another man's proverbial basket, but it doesn't always pay to be this way, so in spite of the fact that it isn't in my nature to see multiple people at once, I've been trying to sprinkle my affections about until I'm on more certain ground.  

Does anyone else feel weird about the idea of dating more than one person at a time?  I feel like everyone else in the gay world is a lot better at being "casual" than I am.  After two dates or three dates with a person, if I was at all interested in the first place, I've usually decided to narrow my focus to just them, at least for the moment.  And if there's any kind of sexual intimacy, I'm afraid my eggs will definitely end up in that person's basket.  They might practically be thrown in there, and it won't be all, but... maybe 70% of my eggs will be in there jostling around.  And if it doesn't workout between us?  Well don't worry.  I don't take an inordinate amount of time to retrieve my eggs.  There will just be an awkward moment or two as we smile at each other with teeth showing, my eyes wide with discomfort as I say softly, "So...I'm probably going to need these back."

But where was I?  Oh yes, at this piano bar.  I was sitting on a low couch next to this guy, learning that one of his favorite movies was "The Aristocats", when he mentions that this place has somewhat of a "reputation" for being the kind of place where underweight, doe eyed twinks sashay from octogenarian lap to octogenarian lap, looking for an older daddy to buy them drinks, dole out dollars and take them home for an evening or twenty.  I don't know why I found this skeezy, and tainted my enjoyment of the place.  I mean, consenting adults, right?  I guess it's at least partly fear.  Fear of becoming one of them, or being thought of as one of them, and the fear of being in such a bloodless arrangement.  But as it happened, there were no shenanigans going on at the moment, as it was six on a Monday.  And if I did see the shenanigans it would most likely seem less sordid than it seemed at the moment.

At any rate, our conversation was scored by Brian or Stephen at the piano, crooning every chestnut by Gershwin or Berlin under the sun, and I have to say that hearing those songs made me feel very much at home, grateful that there was a place that these songs were appreciated.  And when when Stephen...or was it Brian... asked if anyone wanted to sing, my date practically pushed me up to the piano.  In truth, I pretended I needed more coaxing than I actually did.  And since it seemed like a pretty low pressure place, I went for it.  I have to say, it was really freeing.  And it was a decent place to practice "presence".  Plus, Brian or Stephen couldn't have been more charming, making me feel completely at ease, calling me  a "young thing" every once in awhile, and in this place I guess I was.  At least, relatively speaking.

Once I'd sung he bantered with me throughout the evening, tossing jokes and comments my way, suggesting I come back up for another song.  And while these kinds of interactions always make me incredibly self-conscious, it was very kind of him.  And while the date ended up being a no go, at least romantically, I may have to make my way to that or another piano bar at some point.

The Intergalactic Nemesis!

Let me begin by saying I did not see the Oscars last night, and while I would love to have witty things to say, a perspective to impart, I have nothing to offer on that topic. Where was I, rather than plopped in front of my TV or at some viewing party in the city?  I was at a performance of The Intergalactic Nemesis at The Schimmel Performing Arts Center in Pace University.  The Intergalactic Nemesis is a sci-fi radio drama and graphic novel (the graphic novel is projected behind the performers and the foley artist who perform live).  I'm a big fan of the classic radio drama, and it would have made sense that I'd seen this show long before now.  It's been performed in Austin for many years, has expanded from one production to include two follow up episodes in the saga, and has a devoted following across the US.  My reservations?  I'll admit to being a touch fearful of the camp factor.

It's very easy to poke fun at the tropes of the old radio drama, overdo the performances, and sprinkle in plenty of schmaltz without really respecting the form and how wonderful it can be for communicating a story.  Luckily, I had nothing to worry about last night, and my hopes for what the show could be were exceeded as the production nimbly treads the fine line of camp and dramatic stakes.  The artwork is superb, the performances lively, and the story commanding.  In short, it made for a lot of fun, and I was really happy to see my dear friend Julie Linnard up there shining like a lil' star as the female voice-actor in the ensemble.

If I had a quibble?  It's so minor, but I would probably have preferred not to know that any of the score was improvised.  The accompaniment is rousing, beautifully supports the story, and is so skillfully played that highlighting the idea of it being improvised became more of a distraction than a selling point.   I begin to wonder just how much of it was actually unique to the evening, knowing that it was taken from a composer's skeleton and  performed over and over.  Even if it was one-hundred percent new, I would prefer to enjoy it for its own merit than for the idea that it is improvised.  But that's me,

The show is a real crowd pleaser, appropriate for a family audience, and a perfect way to keep this form of story telling vibrant and relevant.  I found myself both enjoying the work and in awe of all the hands that went into making this such an enduring tradition in its own right.  I was also happy to see a female protagonist without the trumpets and fanfare that usually accompany such a decision.

A Tip For New New Yorkers: Target

Being new to this city has made for lots of learning opportunities.  That's my positive way of saying that through the natural course of the day in NYC, some annoying shit has happened many times, and through the experience of it, I have learned to make subtle corrections the next time I'm in a similar situation.  Some places are awash with learning experiences.  The subway has provided more educational experiences to New Yorkers new and not-so new, than NYU could possibly imagine.  And their tuition is much more manageable.  Another place of learning??  Target.

"What?" you think yourself.  "I know Target.  Target is easy as pie.  Get out of here with yourself!"  For the most part, yes, you do know Target.  But there are a few differences between your trip to the Target in Austin, or some other relatively small city, and New York.  I am here to help you make this experience a little more pleasurable.

1.  Give yourself up to three hours if you are venturing out to Target.  Unlike in Suburbia, there are not many of them in this city.  Frankly, there could never be enough of them.  New Yorkers are all about Target.  In fact, a Target within a ten minute subway ride will get your apartment rented on that basis alone.  So count on an hour round trip, some time for shopping, and for the surprise side trip, because there's always something awesome next to Target, and you might want to take a few extra minutes to shop there, since you are in the neighborhood.

If you are me, give yourself an extra 20 minutes to get on the train going in the wrong direction, realize this, and then head back.  It's sad, but true.

Of course, you could do it in a much shorter time, by being ruthless with your minutes, but believe me, you will get so annoyed by the people in your path that are stopping to laugh and chitchat, Sunday strolling on a Tuesday, standing right in front of the 75 watt equivalent LED lightbulbs for seven minutes as if there's a weighty decision here-- It's a fucking lightbulb!!!--  In short, you will make enemies.  And don't you want to save your enemy making for those who are genuinely trying to get your goat??

2.  Visit all floors.  In most cities, you will encounter "spread".  This is what the suburbs are all about.  People can't live packed together on top of each other, jumbled up and twisted like the socks in my underwear drawer.  They need space.  And in these other cities there is a lot more available space to be had, because...people have cars, and will take an extra five minutes to drive a little further out to you.  What's the biggie?  In New York?  We have spread out as much as we can.  That's what the boroughs are all about.  There is no more horizontal space to be had.  So instead, things spread upward.  The Gap, Target, Walgreens (ahem, sorry... Duane Reade) thrift stores, comic book shops, these will all have two or three floors.  If you can't find what you need, there is probably another floor.  You will get used to this, and eventually it won't seem like a crazy New York thing anymore.  Trust me.

3.  Respect, but do not be afraid of the shopping cart escalator thingie.  "What", you say?  "What the fuck are you talking about?"  Well friends, with multiple floors, and not enough elevator space, they have developed an escalator for your shopping cart.  It travels with you side by side, in its own little lane!  Crazy, right?  It actually has a name.  It's called... are you ready??... a Vermaport.

Be like this happy family and use the Vermaport!!

Now, don't be afraid of it, it works really efficiently, and can handle a good amount of weight.  So load up your cart with plastic objects and go to town!  There are occasionally accidents, however, so I ask you please not to be a show off asshole and try to ride your cart up or down the Vermaport.  Everyone who sees you will just think you're a fucking idiot.  Except for little kids.  They will want to copy you, and you will have mothers shooting heat waves of hate into you.  

Don't be like this girl (even she's a little ashamed of herself).

4.  Check the prices!!  This is the single most important piece of advice regarding Target, and the true reason for this blog post.  When I lived in Austin, I rarely had to worry about items being put in the wrong row, or right on top of an incorrect price.  Here, however, I have purchased something where the label said $11.15, and then when I got to the check-out, the product was actually $19.95.  This kind of thing happens more than a third of the times I go to Target.  It also happens at Duane Reade, CVS, etc.  Now, while in the moment of this tiny tragedy it is easy to think "Target is trying to rip me off!  How dare they?!!  I am a loyal customer!!!  FUCK YOU TARGET!!!", I would like to suggest instead that the people stocking these shelves are just careless.  New York stores get a lot busier than stores in smaller cities, and so there's a lot more work to do, and the stockers are a lot more likely to think "good enough" as they unload the mountains of merchandise that they shelve every day.  So double check the labels.  Always.  And carefully!  Often times, the label is deceiving and there's a reason the stocker put it there by mistake.  You might even take pictures of the labels, so if you get to the check out and get overcharged, you can show them what caused you confusion.  Now, you might think this is too much trouble.  But trust me, it can save you $5-20 on an average trip.

5.  You might even (dare I say) consider other stores.  While not every neighborhood has a Target, most of them do have a "Bargain Stop", or a 99 Cent Store, and a lot of the things you get there are much cheaper than you will find them at Target, and you won't have to lug them around on the subway or call a Taxi to lug your microwave and accent chair three miles.  However, these places can oftentimes be depressing.  Sometimes, and this is entirely up to you, it is worth the time and extra expense for the wide open  and well organized aisles, the comforting scent of bubblegum-windex and popcorn, and the bright red splashed everywhere you turn.

6.  While we are on the topic of organized aisles, don't go to Target at 11PM.  That place is a shit show at 11PM.

And there you have it.  My handy quick guide to making a peaceful and pleasant trip to Target.  If you have other tips and suggestions, please feel free to add to mine, and share your shopping experiences.

Movin' Out!

I'm writing this current post surrounded by stacks of boxes, and swirls of dust bunnies that have been unearthed by dragging furniture from the corners of the apartment to get ready for the movers who will be here bright and early tomorrow morning to move me out of Brooklyn, and into my new home in Astoria.  

Since moving to New York I've gotten to know Astoria due to some good friends that live in the area, and I've really come to feel like it is the place I'll be most at home.  It's got a lot of lovely cafes and restaurants, a movie theatre and a beautiful independent bookstore all within easy walking distance.  Plus, my favorite museum in the city is very close by.  In  addition to that, the trip into Manhattan for auditions has been cut short by twenty five minutes, and I'm awfully glad about that.  

There are certainly some things I'll miss in Crown Heights, like Pel's Pies, The Brooklyn Central Library, and the church bells I can hear chiming from my window every morning, but despite the fact that this move has been challenging, I do feel it will be for the best.  My current roommate situation has become too complex to be sustainable, and these are things people can't always predict when they enter into a new living situation.  You get a good feeling about it, you take a leap of faith, and sometimes it doesn't work out.  But in spite of a difficult month getting prepared for this move, and some sleepless nights stressing over the unknown, it looks like things have all fallen into place.  I know the new place won't be perfect, as there are certain compromises anywhere you live, but I'm very excited about it and hopes are high!

Needful Things From MONDO!

MONDO is an online company with a gallery in Austin (my former home) that commissions and sells posters, vinyl soundtracks and other film ephemera which usually provides a unique take on some well explored subjects like The Wizard Of Oz, as well as some cult classics.  Today they released a new Oz poster illustrated by Anne Benjamin.  It was a screen print poster in a limited edition of 250, and while I fantasized buying it, wouldn't you know it has already sold out.  Of course, they originally sold for $50 and are already available for twice that on eBay.  If you are interested in what they have to offer you can follow them on Twitter and get announcements as products are released.

I adore this particular take on the film as it highlights some of the darker moments, but still has a very luscious and whimsical story book approach.  Her line work is so intricate, a quality shared with that of Arthur Rackham, and which adds to the fairy tale essence of the work.

Below are some more of my favorites, which you can see at Mondo's website.  Of course, most of these are sold out, but I've provided links to the artist's websites, and they often have prints and original artwork for sale.

Mad Monster Party by Mark Chiarello.  This one is still on sale!

By Ken Taylor

Laurent Durieux has some truly stunning work available to view at his website.  The It's A Wonderful Life poster is particularly evocative.

By Michael De Pippo

I love this take by Tom Whalen, and his website has a gorgeous screen print for sale of The Wolfman (which was not done for Mondo).  It captures the regrets and the guilt of the character, as well as the eerie romance that the story has always held for me.  I might need to buy this at some point...

Here's a different take on the film by Jay Shaw, who is also MONDO's Creative Director.  I've always loved that the wolfman is just kind of an every day jerk who gets unwillingly tangled in this inner struggle to control the monster inside him.  He's the most empathetic of all the monsters to my mind, and this work really brings out all those conflicting emotions.

Let's close with this sentimental favorite of mine by Diana Sudyka, which combines a beautiful use of color with a beautiful rendering of Audrey Hepburn, and a shoutout to the Alamo Drafthouse at it's former location on South Lamar.  

The Dynamics of Gay Dating Are Truly Mystifying...

I don't know how two people get together and actually stay together for any length of time.  I really don't.  Ok, slight variation to that statement.  I don't understand how two guys get together and actually stay together for any length of time.  Some do it, it's true.  They meet, they flirt, they text each other, go out to dinner and movies and tumble into bed, and love.  They change their Facebook statuses and these days they go into married bliss, or at least the appearance of married bliss.  And yet, it feels like a lot of us are stumbling around, having the ocassional short term fling (I prefer this term to one-night stand) and often finding themselves alone on a Friday night.

Me?  I have not been very successful at this dating thing so far.  I've met guys and felt that ping of recognition that something chemical is occurring, usually through the prolonged eye contact and the unnecessary arm brushing.  I've been on dates with them, and in many cases these have progressed toward closeness and intimacy.  But making these last?  My record since coming out is six months.  I know it ain't pretty, and believe me, it ain't easy to admit this.  And I'd love to change it, but I'm truly not sure how to go about it.

Part of the problem is that it is difficult to navigate the dynamics between two men. Men like to pursue.  They like to woo.  It's in their mental makeup.  And so how do you decide who is the pursuer and who is the pursued?  Of course balance is best, but balance is beginning to feel like the unicorn in the woods.  You hear about it, you sense it's out there, but you've never seen it.

When I dated women the dynamics were much easier to figure out.  There were established patterns and roles.  Were they generalizations, and steeped in traditionalism?  Yes.  Did they work?  A lot of times, yes.  If I met someone I really liked, I could woo her, nurture her, treat her like the goddess I thought she was, and often it worked for me.  Try doing this with a guy.  He would be out the door in seconds.  Luckily, I met and had some decent relationships with women.  They were strong minded, understanding, thoughtful, great communicators.  And yet, something felt just a little off.

Cut to me at age thirty in L.A. where I met and fell for a six foot two, dark haired intellectual/slam poet who was very out and open with his sexuality and extremely emotionally in touch.  Add to the mix his giant smile and a high pitched voice that I loved.  The fact that we were picking out clothes for each other and choosing possible furniture for our future place by our second date?  This should have been a red flag, but I ignored it, and a couple others.  A month with him and I knew I would never go back to dating women, as I felt so out of control and blissed out in his presence that I couldn't allow myself to settle for anything less.  We lasted six weeks, and then he got scared and called the whole thing off.  When he called back two weeks later saying he'd made a major mistake, it was too late, the balance had been thrown off, and we were done.  I never really understood what happened, as it seemed to come out of no where, and since then I haven't really grown in my maturity about how to deal with men.

In short?  If I like them, really like them, and they like me, there is a part of me that is always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  And once I think it's happened (either because they stopped calling or texting like they used to, or because they cut a date short with no explanation or said something minor and unexceptional that I worried over) I can drive myself insane with wondering what they are thinking.  I've never loved uncertainty, and from that moment on I am living in The Land of Uncertainty.  My conversations with myself are unnerving and ridiculous.  And part of it is because I don't know what my role is supposed to be.  Should I be the pursuer?  Or allow myself to be pursued?  And how coy do I need to be about it?  I know from experience that men like to chase, and all too often it's felt like the minute they catch what they were chasing, they lose interest.  And if I want to keep them around, shouldn't I keep them guessing?

As  result of all this confusion, my behavior is all over the map and I send so many mixed signals that I don't blame the other person for wondering just what the fuck is going on and booking it out of my vicinity.   Don't get me wrong, I don't like playing mind games, especially since they almost  always backfire on me.  However, if I understood the basic etiquette and "rules" of gay dating, I think I would feel just a little bit more secure about this whole enterprise.


Maybe I need a gay dating guru.  A Gayru.  Anybody know of one???

Since When Did Wonder Woman Need A Sword??

When I was a kid, my heroes were always women.  Always.  The characters I admired were Snow White, Dorothy, Wonder Woman... They were my escape from Superman and Batman, and the other cartoon purveyors of machismo that dominated pop culture.  These female heroes brought joy to a previously darkened world, helped their friends see the strength within, and stood for the power of peace in a war torn world.  They were in every way better than most male heroes.  They weren't always whipping out swords or guns and they weren't always punching people out.  They had other, superior ways of overcoming challenges.

Let's take a look at Wonder Woman.  She was created during World War Two as an answer to the male dominated violence in the world.  Psychiatrist William Moulton Marston believed the problem with comics at that time was that they were too violent and full of "blood curdling masculinity".  As a feminist, he created Wonder Woman (though many believe his wife Olive was not only the inspiration for the character, but a large portion of the brains behind her as well) as a character far better than men.  She comes from the Paradise Island in a time of great war to teach men how to live in peace.  Her powers are the powers of truth and love and beauty.  She repels bullets with her bracelets, and uses her golden lasso to make men tell the truth.  She is an amazing heroine, with a unique perspective, a great origin story, and until very recently she never needed a sword.  Never.

              

The sword started appearing around ten years ago, and gained major prominence in a newer, bloodier iteration of Wonder Woman.  In the upcoming film?  Major sword action.  I guess this is a way for movie execs to answer the demand that women be treated as strong and proactive, and stars of their own lives, much like men have always been depicted.  No longer do women need to be helpless eye candy.  I for one think this is awesome.  However, I feel like the people paying lip service to feminism, for the most part are doing simply that.  Paying lip service.  The movie exec way to make a woman strong?  Make her more warlike.  They've thrown Alice and SnowWhite both into armor, and for me the strengths they had originally--compassion, ingenuity, wit, and the audacity to call out pomposity and ridiculousness-- were thrown under the bus and deemed "less than".  Well, every gay kid knows that those qualities are often all we had to get us through the trials and tribulations of daily life as a child to find the "other side".  And for those who say that Wonder Woman deserves a sword because she should be able to "kick ass" just as much as Superman and Batman?  Where's Superman's sword??  Oh, yeah.  He doesn't need one because he has superhuman strength.  For the record, so does Wonder Woman, and she's never needed a sword to show the bad guys what's what.

                                                   

For my money, the addition of a sword, and other cheap plot developments like a romantic relationship with Superman (Wonder Woman does not need to be a supporting character to Superman's mythology, thanks very much, cuz she's got shit of her own to do, and in her story she is the only one doing the saving) do nothing but weaken the character.  And thus far it is doubtful, to my mind, that she will fare very well in these new film interpretations.  It's likely to be another case in which the woman is stuck on the side to be arm candy and to occasionally surprise us all because she can really "kick ass" just like a man.  Of course, she's usually only aloud to fight other women, and when she is fighting men she often (as was the case of recent Man From UNCLE film) overpowers them in ridiculously sexual ways like snapping their necks between her inner thighs.  Really??  But even if it turns out that the new film doesn't know how to handle Wonder Woman, she will always have the comics, which continue to experiment with her and in many vehicles, allow her to be the strong, independent and peaceful leader she was born to be.

And of course, just when you are about to give up hope, along comes a character like Rey from the newest Star Wars film.  She's bright, in charge, using her mental and metaphysical powers as well as those of combat, AND she's nurturing, empathic and occasionally funny.  If only she had come about before Wonder Woman was in development, it's possible they could have taken some inspiration from her and I would be feeling a lot better than I do.

Favorite Spaces: Jonathan Adler

There are certain spots in New York, little hubs of pleasure that boosts spirits, soothe the days worries away, and inspire joy in living.  There are many such places for every individual style and heart, and I keep a growing list of places in this city that helps to chase my bluesies and bring on joy.  My newest addition?  The Jonathan Adler store on the Upper West side.

Forget about those two tired lions "patience and fortitude" who loll about the New York Library.  I love the two little squirrels perkily presenting their nuts to every visitor to Jonathan Adler.  I call them "Pithy and Sparky" and they are the perfect ambassadors for a store that celebrates whimsy and glamor.  Framed just outside the doorway is "The Jonathan Adler Manifesto", and if that doesn't make you want to waltz through the doors, eyes aglow, then I'm pulling you out of my imaginary rolodex and tearing up your card.  Wait, scratch that.  There's room in this world for all varieties of taste and brands of fascination, so ok, imaginary torn up card carefully reassembled, taped and apologetically shoved back into the rolodex.  But if you DO waltz through the doors with eyes aglow and hands flailing as you point at candy colored chotchkies, then we might be destined, as Anne Shirley says, to become bosom friends.  Below you'll see a few of my select favorites:

Our Manifesto

We believe that your home should make you happy. 

We believe that when it comes to decorating, the wife is always right. Unless the husband is gay.

 

We believe in carbohydrates and to hell with the puffy consequences.

 

We believe minimalism is a bummer.

 

We believe handcrafted tchotchkes are life-enhancing.

 

We believe tassels are the earrings of the home.

 

We believe in our muses: David Hicks, Alexander Girard, Bonnie Cashin. Hans Coper, Gio Ponti, Andy Warhol, Leroy Neiman, Yves Saint Laurent, and Madonna.

We believe in the innate chicness of red with brown.

 

We believe in being underdressed or overdressed always.

We believe dogs should be allowed in stores and restaurants.

We believe colors can’t clash. 

We believe in blowing your nest egg on our pots. 

We believe our lamps will make you look younger and thinner.

We believe in irreverent luxury.

 

Stores like this are designed with an eye toward aspirational living.  You think to yourself "I love this person's perspective, their moxie, their way of life, their flair, and I want just a little of this glitz to rub off on me so I can splash around in it and dispense it like Auntie Mame with an outie part".  Ok.  Full disclosure, that's what I think.  You may just think... "Cool chair!"  Please tell me you are thinking something more than "cool chair", but in an effort to cast a wide net of thoughts and desires, let's just go with "cool chair!"

In addition, each piece of furniture, or nicknack has a distinct world view.  It has its own look and identity that somehow meshes with the entire collection, and you can immediately imagine living with these little pieces of whimsical luxury.  Ok, I can imagine living with them.  I can see myself stretching out on this bed and waiting for my man to come home (still taking applications) Or lounging on that divan waiting for my man to come home, as I drink sweet and fizzy drinks and read one of Simon Doonan's books.

Of course, it's not just the things he creates and inspires that make the Jonathan Adler Company so charming.  It's Jonathan Adler himself.  He's handsome, dapper, just a touch snarky, and big hearted as all get-out (or at least he seems big hearted.  As all get out.  We've not actually met)

If the previous passages enticed you at all, now is the perfect time to visit jonathanadler.com to buy me a belated birthday gift.  I'm partial to these pots as I have lots of eyelashes to store in a half hazard manner.