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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
Lunes 11/15/2004
Ack!
Loads of crap has been going on the past few weeks and things have been very hectic with work and life. Not surprisingly, I’ve been more or less ignoring this site as a result. Anyway, ignoring most events, here’s some of the stuff that’s been going on:
Anime: The Orange County gay/lesbian anime group I used to occasionally watch things with went into limbo a couple of years ago with folks “divorcing” and moving away. A few survivors got together again, but this time in a small studio apartment in WeHo.
We ate a “white trash” version of chili (w/fritos thrown on top) and watched the R.O.D. OAV, or rather, the Read or Die movie . I’ve seen it a couple of times before, but it remains a favorite of mine.
Seeing it with other people made me realize that the subtle ribbing at America was not as subtle as I thought. It never occurred to me that having the American president repeatedly urinating on himself out of fear could be considered America bashing.
Seeing it again also made me think that the spy/super powered agents/secret organizations fighting other super powered folks in a plot to destroy humankind storyline would be a good grab to get American comic book fan boys into anime, since confusing plots to save the world are right up their alley.
After food and the show, we walked over to the Virgin on Sunset, where we bumped into a guy who I haven’t seen in at least a decade. Back in college Lex would continually get me mixed up with a friend of mine (me: young, short, Mexican kid; other guy: a tall, thin, sort of femmy, Filipino man named Leo). It took Lex years before he realized that Leo and I weren’t the same person. That should have annoyed me, but rather stupidly I had a crush on Lex, and forgave him a lot of things much to the annoyance of my friends who kept telling me to over him.
On the street that night, he looked at me and cried out “Leo!”
Fourteen years post college; I finally decided that my friends were right.
Halloween stuff a few weeks too late: The Saturday before Halloween was ChrisX’s annual dead celebrities party. After some counting on fingers and toes folks realized that this was the twentieth anniversary of the event, which was used as an excuse to drink and eat even more than usual, that is, a lot.
My idea of going as Charlton Hesston, which would have let me dress fairly normally and mumble as my talent got vetoed by the husband as not being good enough, so I went as Diego Rivera instead. Our friend Bess was there as Frieda Khalo, so at the last minute we decided to take part in the talent competition, ad-libbing something which turned into Frida passing out stickers of her paintings to guests as I womanized behind, beside, and in front of her. Frida retaliated by throwing a sticker of a portrait of Diego on to the floor and stomping it to death while calling him, err me “a shit.” Oddly folks liked us.
John went not in drag as Janet Lee, but rather as everything else in the shower scene. He and a friend of his acted out “The shower scene if done now” as their talent, which involved a brave woman, a “flesh colored” body suit, floppy bird seed filled nylon stockings as old lady breasts, and my Norman bates in drag with knife action figure. It was a you had to be there moment, and had the other guests howling with laughter.
Also in attendance were a young Mr. Patrick something or another and his Auntie Mame, who read a poem praising martinis, an antiBush folk singing Captain Kangaroo and his girlfriend Mr. Green Jeans, a rather scary Lenin, who ranted and raved for a while, a Georgia O’Keith, famous sports figures, more famous communists of the unliving sort, a gaggle of former presidents, some post mortem opera characters, and other gente of the muertos persuasion. It was a fun night.
A movie: I finally got around to seeing Team America. A matinee, since a discount showing was all I was willing to commit to the flick. It was all right, not great, not overly good, but still amusing. It would have been better with a remote so I could have fast-forwarded through bits. Even so, it was largely good for what it was, and the songs were cool although not as good as in the south park movie (though still better than most serious films), but at the same time I did get weary of all the homophobic insults and the frat boy obsession with butt fucking.
Yes, in a serious action movie, the characters both good and bad, would all insult each other with faggot this, faggot that, but seriously, aren’t there other words, other insults? The constant repetition was both insulting and boring, a very bad combination.
So, best bits: songs and “panthers,” worst bits, boring insults.
Home: John’s brother has tiled the front porch for us in his spare time. Even unfinished, it looks a heck of a lot better then the peeling paint covered stretch of cement it used to be.
Garden: Except for trimming back the protocarpus in the front that the city gave us a warning citation for overhanging the street too much, I haven’t had time to do much outside and have been ignoring most of it. Luckily most of the garden (was purposely designed) thrives on occasional neglect as long as it get occasional water, which the rain we had a few weeks ago managed to do.
More later,
nico