The Refreshing Taste of Lion Spit

Memories are unfaithful, undependable.  After years and years of thinking something was one way, you can realize that at one point your idea of the actual incident had morphed and you'd been telling a story based on that truth, but at some point, the concrete memory became about the story itself, cemented in your mind by constant re-telling.  This is one of the major problems with the reliability of memoirs, and biographies. People and their memories, though often well-intentioned, are not trustworthy.

And yet, I have a very concrete memory of being a child, maybe three, in the upper level apartment with my single mom, as dusk falls, the window open, and I can hear a lion's roar. And that lion, was able to help me get to sleep by imagining him, and feeling a kind of kinship with him. Mind you, my three year old self, I am perfectly aware, would not have thought about it quite that way, or said it that way.  But it's a memory that has continued to bring me comfort, that yes- things may get daunting, and lives may not be what we want them to be, but there are other creatures out there, outside of ourselves and very different from ourselves, sharing life with us. The thing is, it's a very cinematic memory, and one I easily could have concocted.  Don't lions live in zoos?  How far would a lion's roar carry? Are there residences close enough to zoos in order for people to hear the animals at night as they stir? I've puzzled over this occasionally, and it's one of those things that I think, "Oh I should ask Mom about that at some point," but then it is quickly forgotten.

But then a couple of weeks ago I was walking to the subway from a rehearsal for a then upcoming gig, when I saw this large truck, the bed of which had a large display of antiques including, a lion drinking fountain.  One very similar to the one I had drunk from at the zoo.  It brought back all of these- feelings, feelings of being small enough that the whole world seemed giant around me, and that there were some really cool things made just for people like me in order to experience what it would be like to put my head in the mouth of a lion. I'd never expected to see anything like it again, but there it was. The friend I was with indulged me when I asked to stop and take a few pictures.  They don't do it justice, can't capture the spontenaiety of the moment, or the sheer joy I felt at being brought face to face with this piece of my childhood.

In a world where I am a wealthy man, I will own one of these fountains and have it, along with other items of whimsy and wonder. Think of Carrie Fisher's home as seen in the recent documentary "Bright Lights" (what, you haven't seen it? How can we be friends?) And you will have a proximity of my fantasy. But regardless, at this moment I couldn't afford or house, or transport this amazing piece, so I let it go at photos. 

Later I called my mom to ask her about the fountain, and also about the memory of the lion roaring (which is tied to this fountain) and she didn't remember the fountain, why would she? But she could confirm that we had lived near Bever Park at one point, and there may have been lions there. Couple that with the synchronicitous event that my Uncle who was visiting, had that day seen a lion water fountain just like the one I was describing. 

Thanks to a Write to the Point, a personal blog of an Iowa resident, I was able to confirm that yes! There had been a lion at Bever park years ago, and a number of other animals, though from what I can tell of it, it seems like the park not so much a zoo, as a park that happened to have a number of animal exhibits. (If anyone reading this has more information about the history of Bever Park, I'd love to hear it). And it seems she shared the memory of listening through her open window to the sound of the lion's roar. Confirmation! That memory can now go into my long awaited, totally truthful memoir...

As for the lion drinking fountain? I was able to find that these were hardly unique to one zoo, but are still around (though updated for health standards) and can be found at a lot of parks sponsored by Lions Clubs across the US. The design has changed a bit, and doesn't really suit my taste...

(photo from the Dysart Reporter)

But it is a comfort to see this design is still bringing joy mixed with terror to children everywhere. As for whether or not this design once existed at Bever Park? It's hard to say. I distinctly remember this fountain being at a zoo, one that we visited occasionally and that felt like a special trip. I also remember wolves, (my grandmother commented on the smell) and lots of concrete. There don't seem to be any other zoos in Cedar Rapids, and the only other one it might be that is still open would be in Des Moines, a healthy trek for us to take. So that aspect of the story remains a mystery and I'm ok with that for the moment, as that seems in keeping with the hazy nature of memory itself.

I Am A Sims Addict

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.

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.

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.

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:

• 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.

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.

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.

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!!!

Artist Rendering of the "Be Our Guest Restaurant"

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 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.  

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...

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.  

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.