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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.
10/28/2002
It's funnier when it happens to other people
Two of my staff have been off work the past two weeks. One was hurt in a kitchen fire, the other in a car accident. Luckily, neither was seriously injured. Last week an acquaintance of mine, my counterpart in another office, died of lymphatic cancer. He was in his late thirties.
An acquaintance of John died two weeks ago. He was a teacher in his mid-thirties and suffered a fatal heart attack during class. Last week, one of the secretaries at John's work died of intestinal cancer. She was in her mid-forties.
Things have not been overly chipper at home or work for either John or myself.
My melancholy mood was aided by watching Maurice on some artsy film channel last week. Seeing it always leaves me feeling blue, not sure exactly why. Maybe I was sad when I first saw the movie all those long years ago. Maybe it's depressing that E.M. Forster felt he couldn't publish a 'homosexual novel' with a happy ending while he was still alive. Maybe it's just sad that Hugh Grant's character married a woman instead of just getting it on with poor Maurice.
Whatever the reason, I should probably buy myself a copy of the flick so I can watch it whenever I feel the urge to wallow in vague depression.
Knowing that I am a fan of Nightmare Before Christmas, Fernado and Enrique invited John and me to see a holiday screening of it at the El Capitan last Friday. I'm rarely in that part of town, but for various reasons I seem to be spending a lot of time in Hollywood lately. The last time I was there, Hollywood Blvd. was closed off for filming. This time it was shut down for the Latin awards. I'm not quite sure which Latin awards though. The MTV Latin something or anothers are in Miami, so this was something different I think.
Unlike the filming, this time the sidewalks were open to pedestrians. I'm guessing so that the assorted Spanish language stations filming the assorted pop stars and Mariachi bands getting out of assorted limos could get "look at the huge turn out of fans" type establishing shots. Of course, most of that crowd were people who had no idea what was going on.
Among the crowd were people asking hulk hulgan for autographs, various break dancing kids, long lines of folks waiting for Nightmare, a small mob of Hari Krishnas, and a larger mob of tourists looking in awe of everything. None of it felt real. Everything about Hollywood, or at least that block, felt as if it were pure artifice, existing solely for the benefit of the tourists.
Well, maybe the next block of the street as well. There were signs posted absolving some company of all responsibilities if you accidentally showed up in the background of the Dragnet movie. Yup, another remake. This is where I should stick in some comment about the lack of original ideas for movies, or something about the economics of Hollywood that makes it risky to produce something original, but I don't feel like it.
Aside from everything happening outside of the theater, the night turned out to be more involved than I thought it would. Besides showing Nightmare, there were showings of a couple of Tim Burton's earlier movies, Vincent (young 7 year old Vincent Malloy longs to be a tortured and twisted Vincent Price), and Frankenweenie (a young suburban boy named Victor Frankenstein brings his dog Sparky back to life after a car accident).
There was also a panel featuring the director from Nightmare, the actor who voiced the two faced mayor, and Shelly Duvall, who played the mother in Frankenweenie.
The audience to all this was an interesting mix of families, animation nerds, gay boys, and gothy folks. That is, assuming the Goth people were actually goths and not just folks in Halloween costumes. As someone said that night, people who normally dress for attention must not be too thrilled with finding everyone dressed like them during Halloween.
That night during an overly involved dream, a man gently touched my shoulder. When he did this, I realized that he was angel. Without speaking, I heard him bless me and wish me a good life.
The nico dream touch was that angel man was dressed in a 70's style gold velour track suit, with the shirt open to his navel, the better to display the heavy gold chains he wore.
I'm not sure whether to blame spending too much time in Hollywood, or spending too much time listening to disco.
I did the dinner and dancing thing with Kristen last Saturday night. Food was a watercress salad and a cheeseless Thai chicken pizza at CPK. The dancing section of the evening was unusual because neither of us took into consideration that going out the weekend before Halloween would have certain implications.
Namely that there would be wizards, french maids, mechanics, female zorros, lady pirates, and futball players hoofing it on the dance floor. Gotta love that last costume. Nothing more than the uniform of the team they usually play on, and exactly the sort of half assed lazy costume that I'm prone to wearing myself.
The only other comment for the evening is that life isn't complete until you've seen a short, young, Asian dyke try to freak while dressed as a penguin.
Beau over at ggwoo told a story involving having a kitten bite him on his nipple trying to nurse. I�ve discovered that this is only funny when it happens to someone else.
So guess what. There's a new addition to the household. A fairly young calico mix with the unlikely name of Spanky D.
So far, Babe (the girl cat) dislikes her, while Jet (the male) has no idea what to make of the crying, meowing thing. On the other hand, John and I
were lost causes when we saw her try to fit her paw into her mouth.
So not everything is as lost and dark as I was making it out to be at the beginning of this entry, which is a good thing. (Of course, something that would make me cheerful would be if you all signed the guest map thingie :-)
Music:
Chic
Want:
To not have to go to the dentist
Elsewhere:
Sourcreamzengarden
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