Looking for Mr. Goodbar

One of my favorites

When the hell is this movie coming out of litigation and getting onto DVD? This is one of my favorite movies of all time. Diane Keaton was magnificent and Tuesday Weld and the rest of the cast was first-rate. I read the book (by Judith Rossner) in 7th grade and have seen the movie about 6 times since the 80s. I never tire of it. Even the soundtrack is memorable. I think it is completely unappreciated and was lambasted by critics when it came out as being trash but it is one of the most honest movies and touches on so many interesting subjects through one woman's sexual awakening. Love it and can't wait until it's "back."

Permanent Escape

So, today I went into the office and it was just one of those days where it was abundantly clear that I should not be working where I am working. I already know that, but today I knew it a little more. Never is this clearer than during our weekly meetings on Tuesdays. It's a self-congratulatory love-fest meant to make people doing well feel good and people doing not-so-well feel bad. And all the while the office's director is looking at everyone and analyzing their facial expressions: you cannot look cynical or unhappy or even blank, you must look happy and animated and laugh and applaud in all the right places. It's fucking exhausting.

So I've been interviewing a lot. And of course that is horrible. HR people are the worst and they lie and they never get back to you. I really believe strongly that at least half the job openings in this country never get filled and it is just because HR people need to do something so they place ads and meet people and then something changes and there is no opening any more.

I've been after this one job and it's perfect for me. I've been meeting directly with the person I would report to and it's going well. Yet, something is wrong. I can't quite place it, but something stinks. He's supposed to call me tomorrow morning, we'll see.

I was waiting for the subway on the platform to go home tonight and I started falling into this trap I hate to fall into but do sometimes, the suicide fantasy. I just began imagining coasting in front of a train and it was very soothing to me. Then I felt bad because I knew it would mess up the commuters commute home. Now, before I get lectured, keep in mind I am not going to kill myself. It is a fantasy. A fantasy born of a need to make pain stop, to escape. But I realize I like the pleasures in life far too much to give them up.

But sometimes I comfort myself with thoughts of suicide. I know people have loved ones who have killed themselves and I know people who have done so. I don't pretend to know what they have gone through and I certainly do not mean to belittle it by talking about it like this, but this is how I feel and this is one of the things I think about. So sometimes when I lay in bed, I just think about being no more, ceasing to exist and it makes me happy. Then I think about how sad and mad people I care about would be and I snap out of it.

I believe it is just a reaction to a lot of anxiety because during the best of times I never thought about this kind of stuff.

On another note: again I deal with dyslexic responses to my personal ad. I clearly say "You host" and I clearly say "I'm looking for a hook-up, not a date." Well, this guy starts emailing me. He lives close by, he seems cool, I like his looks, his email personality then he writes..."Maybe we could even go to dinner and a movie and then back to your place?"

What's with these people?

Closet Cases

At the risk of sounding like one of these annoying gay men who thinks everyone is gay, I am going to offer my opinion on something:

I think a whole lot more men than we think are gay. Now, this is non-scientific and is strictly anecdotal but I encounter so many men with girlfriends, children, wives who want a little hanky-panky with me. Discretion a must. These guys cruise online and at gyms and it is amazing and sad to me that they all are going through some form of "McGreevey-ism." That is to say that their upbringing did not leave being gay as an option. They do not even identify as gay. In the black and latin community it's the "down-low" but with white men there's not even a vocabulary for it, they're just straight. Yet they have these urges and compartmentalize their lives. A good friend of mine just found out that her married, religious father was arrested at a public park with his pants off performing fellatio on another man. The family is devastated yet the father insists it is the first time it has happened. Sure. These people are so pathologically committed to maintaining their image, that they will layer lie upon lie.

It is very sad that we live in a society where role models be they in sports, music, movies etc. cannot come out of the closet without risking their careers. If they only could, then acceptance would be more prevalent and more people would have options. And this is all about human happiness. People living a lie are not happy, their wives are not happy and their children are not happy and they just perpetuate a myth that drags other men with similar issues down similar paths.

The bottom line is trust your instincts. Just because somebody is married means squat--if you think they are gay, they probably are.

Recycled Friends

I have a very strange sense of time's passing. That is to say I am quite ignorant of it. I think I get that from my father. He is 74 but says he feels, mentally, like he is in his 20s and is always surprised by the old guy in the mirror.

Because of that I sometimes get to thinking about people I used to know that I drifted from. I forget how much time has passed by and as it's gotten to the point where I make maybe one new friend every year or so, I get wistful for the ones that got away. And these new friends are definitely friend-lites. That is to say, I'm in my 30s and do not go through the angst that I went through with older friends so they can never be as intense a relationship.

So, last year, I had a great experiment and I contacted about 25 people that I used to know and have not spoken to since before email! I used the white pages and Google and wrote them handwritten notes. A few ignored me or never got my note, but the majority contacted me and some I email with and it was kind of a curiousity that ended as quickly as it began. But two people who I had not seen since or spoken to since at least 1990 both responded positively and the funny thing is the 3 of us were friends once and hung together then we all just drifted. And here's the rub: we all either lived or worked within a 1 mile radius of one another! Isn't that weird? All in the same orbit for years and never crossing paths. I'm so happy about that because seeing them it's as if time stood still and we all seemed to have progressed at the same rate. I love those girls and I'm so happy they are in my life again. I honestly think that was one of my top achievements of 2005, that along with finding (after 18 months of hell) my dream house and renovating it to it's 1910 glory.

So, if you ever wonder how an old friend is doing, track 'em down! The worst thing that can happen is they will not get back to you.

Plastic Surgery

Dr. Robi Ludwig

Dr. Robi Ludwig filled in for Larry King the other night and, as usual, the sub was better than the host. Even Ryan Seacrest was better than Larry. His questions are just so lazy...But the point is, Dr. Robi should have her own show. She is intelligent, personable and asked great questions. Her only problem was that her guests were all sort of lame. The plastic surgeon misunderstood most of her questions, the "Human Ken Doll" was so far gone he wasn't much of a guest, the woman who posed nude to pay for surgery was steeped in "recovery" language and the woman who was semi-normal seemed hyper-vigilant at separating herself from the others.

I think addictions are really fascinating. I would have liked to actually delve into that aspect more and look at the parallels all addictions share. I'm sure they must have a process they go through that is very comforting: the consideration of procedures (research), the meetings with doctors, the anticipation of the surgery, the actual surgery, the recovery, the results then they probably miss the whole scenario and start all over again.

I can see where it starts off being the desire to change something physical but I bet many of them are addicted to the actual surgery and what happens before and after. Almost like some women are addicted to being pregnant. Sometimes it's less about the baby and more about being pregnant. A sense of purpose. A road map of behavior is provided. I wouldn't be surprised if many PS addicts share similarities with Baron Munchausen's Syndrome. That is to say they enjoy the attention from the medical community.

I am fascinated with different kinds of addictions. I, at one time or another, have been addicted to or displayed addictive behavior regarding:
-Cigarettes
-Marijuana
-Prescription Pain Medicine
-Cocaine
-Alcohol
-Sex
-Food/Eating
-Shopping (Spending Money)
-Exercise/Body Image

By addiction, I should say wanting to stop and being unable to stop. Being driven compulsively to drink, snort, fuck, spend, fight, eat etc. and never finding any satisfaction from it yet needing to do it over and over, again and again.

I know this kind of behavior runs in my family and the only thing I can really do to combat this is just understand myself and what void I am/was trying to fill and keep away from certain situations/people/activities etc.

I find it equally fascinating that some people, most people probably, have no problem saying "no" to another drink or whatever. For me it's about excess until you crash and that is just as likely to manifest itself into 4 straight hours of intense exercise or Vicodin + Valium + Ambien chased down with a Martini.

But back to plastic surgery: Personally, it has never appealed to me. I feel fortunate to not have the specific issues that drive so many people to it. It surprises me, though, because I was not a pretty site as a teenager. Mushy body, bad skin, glasses. I had a very negative physical self-image yet I always had a million friends due to the positive response to my personality. And I think that was a good thing because I don't think beautiful kids and teens and young adults work on their minds as much as they should. So, maybe I was Truman Capote to a bunch of Babe Paleys back in the day but somehow, as I matured, I got good looking. The bottom line is I have a good head of hair and a great body and those 2 things count for a lot in the physical world, especially the gay male physical world. You can take a guy who is so ugly, so homely yet stack huge pecs and massive bis and quaking quads on him and every fag will be talking about how "he's so hot, like a wrestler!"

So my advice to regular, non-entertainment industry people thinking about plastic surgery is:
1) Work on your mind
2) Work on your body
3) If it's majorly clear it will help (baaaaad nose, no boobs, etc.) go for it
4) But if it's something like botox, forget it. Botox is so lame and people look so different after it. Freakish. Smooth like marble. It's very eerie and so easy to spot.
5) But it's very serious and remember you could die. Look at Olivia Goldsmith.

And please, someone give Dr. Robi her own show. Just not on MSNBC. Everyone who gets their own show on MSNBC crashes fast.

Movies

Sucks

I know tons about movies and the movie business, from how they're made to what's in pre-production right now yet the rub is I dislike 95% of the movies I see. I have not even been to the movie theatre in more than a year because I cannot bear the thought of sitting through drivel.

The only enjoyment I get from most movies is reading a good skewering in The Wall Street Journal or elsewhere. Movies suck and I'm not really sure who is responsible but I'm afraid we are primarily to blame by continuing to go see bad movies and allow Hollywood to delude itself into thinking it puts out good product.

Case in point: "War of the Worlds." Tom Cruise is a delusional fool but I put more stock into Spielberg than I should have. I thought Spielberg was all about story. Instead I am treated to 2+ boring hours that were so predictable and can only be described as follows:

-Aliens attack and Tom and family runs and hides.

-Aliens attack again and Tom and family runs and hides again.

-Aliens attack some more then they die and everyone who had more than 3 lines lives.

The only decent part was Morgan Freeman's 30 second intro and closing.

This is pathetic. It wasn't even exciting in a no-brainer "Day After Tomorrow" way and it made "Independence Day" look like "Potemkin." I'm really bummed. Maybe I'll look at Thom Jane again and feel a little better...

The Punisher

Thomas Jane

Today's Thomas Jane's birthday. What a nice slab he is and I wouldn't even care if he got soft when he wasn't shooting, as long as he looked like this once in a while.

Gay Men: More Rules

Why is it that so many gay men who claim that they only want a quick hook-up with someone are so uptight about whether someone has a boyfriend or not? I just don't get it. You want someone to piss in your mouth but it's a deal breaker if he has a bf? Where does this particular rule come from? It's so presumptuous and judgmental. I see this all the time and I do not get it. Please, someone, enlighten me.

NY Times - Wyatt's Front Page "Memoir"

Did I miss something?

When, exactly, did Oprah kick James Frey out of the book club? Sure, she was tough but there was no "kicking out" going on. What's with The Times? Did Edward Wyatt even watch the show?

Oprah: One Pissed Off Black Media Mogul

Nan Talese will not be a guest at Oprah's next slumber party

Well, I have to hand it to Ope. She gave it good to the Frey. Every time he tried to dodge a question or answer something cryptically or call a “lie” a manipulation, she got all stern with him and pushed. It was priceless when she got it out of him that Lily did not hang herself but slit her wrists. She looked crushed. And I still don’t believe it. Most journalists and TV people ask a question and just take an answer and move on. But Ope was having none of that.

This was amazing television. I particularly loved when the entire panel was up there and they were all talking about James in the third person. He looked like a child in family therapy at a shrink’s office.

Nan Talese cracked me up. She and Oprah are from such different worlds and Nan’s entire existence is informed by the uber high-end literary circles she has occupied for decades. And she tried to spout the kind of hooey that would go over well at a lecture of intellectuals or a cocktail party for publishing executives but Oprah just was not having it.

Oprah was mad. She was lied to and disappointed and manipulated. It was fabulous. James Frey is either going to kill himself or write a book about the entire experience. And what is with him? He sits up there with his pained expression and puppy dog eyes and a million chicks that go for his type go wet. He bugs the shit out of me.

But Oprah impressed me. And she rarely does these days. When this story first broke I figured Oprah, who values truth above all else, would be one pissed off black media mogul. But she folded. And now she’s back. Love it.

Oprah Today on the Frey

Tape/Tivo/Record Ope today cuz she's doing a follow-up segment on James Frey. I hope it's not one of her "last 5 minute sermons" that is publicized as a segment.

The Players Club

16 Gramercy Park South

I need to get laid.

I went out last night to the Haru on Union Square with "A" and "I." I have known these 2 since 4th grade. A has always been beautiful. The kind of girl who just makes connections with people all the time and then the next thing you know she's touring with U2 or living with some big time producer or traveling to China. Men go nuts over her. I think they just look in her eyes and look at the way she moves and know that sex with her will be a semi-spirtual encounter.

But I is all about her career. She's one of these people who has managed to parlay "good with math" and knowing a second language into a successful career in banking.

Anyway, we hung out and had Sushi and it was too crowded but whatever. I'm so over scenes of any kind.

I had a horrible day earlier because I never, ever spend a full day at the office and as it is near Haru, I decided to stay at work all day.

I work with a bunch of real estate brokers and by the end of the day my head was throbbing. With RE brokers more than anyone else, the real world never seems to intrude on their lives. All and everything revolves around deals. They are the most ignorant group of people I have ever encountered.

Anyway, by 5:30 I could not take it so I walked to the Starbucks on Union Square. I never have Starbucks anymore because it is so anti-climatic. So, I walk in and there are something like 15 people on line and that Starbucks is so poorly run I know that means at least a 20 minute wait so I leave. Paying $5 to wait to drink a completely inconsistant beverage was not appealing to me just then. All I wanted to do was sit down and chill.

So I walked all the way up to 23rd before I found another one. I ordered a venti white chocolate mocha with no cream and no fat and of course it came with cream and was not mixed properly so it was all nauseating syrup at the bottom. Why can't these people mix these things right? I don't get it.

Anyway, I did get a seat which is what I laid down my dime for.

So I walk to Haru and have only 2 Sushi rolls because I always forget that I need to fucking eat.

Afterwards, I bails but A takes me to The Players Club where she is a member. Players is this totally cool mansion on Gramercy Park and is a private club for actors, writers, etc. Anyway, that link is about the building not the club because Players is a little teensy bit run-down so I'm not surprised they do not have a site.

But she gives me the tour and then we go hang out with some guys down in the bar. These 2 guys were both writers (one fairly well known) and both in their early 60s and both 3/4 shit-faced.

Anyway, these 2 were all over me: flirting, asking if I'm an actor "Because you're so handsome," and grabbing my arm and saying things like "hard as a rock" and more or less trying to show off/compete with one another over me. Of course I'm a frigging pushover for comps so I'm sitting there like Tandelayo, acting like I'm a little embarassed by the attention.

But they gave up too fast. I think they just assumed I was completely unattainable. The sad part is I've been so horny lately that I at least would have let the cuter of the two blow me or jerk me off.

But whatever. A splits and I do soon after and then take a very long very dreary subway ride into Brooklyn. That's the downside of Brooklyn, man. Waiting for those subway transfers.

Anyway, that dude I saw at my gym the other day finally emailed me back and said it was him and he wants to chill soon, so we'll see. He's the type I have to be in the mood for. I mean, I generally like guys about 5'8" or 9" and he's shorter. He's Latin which is cool but he's sorta got a lotta Asian happening in the face too which is not always my choice. But he's got a nice body and a big curved dick which is a plus. I'll let you know...

Cool Dad

My father spent a lot of time with me as a child, but it was usually in the confines of doing something he wanted to do. Which is perfectly fine as most children don’t really know what they want to do anyway so they may as well do what Dad wants to do.

A perfect example would be movies. He rarely took me to something unless, he, too wanted to see it.

The one time we almost went to something kid-oriented (The Radio City Music Hall Christmas Show) the line was so long that we bailed and saw a movie. “The Poseidon Adventure.” I was five. I liked it a lot. Except when Stella Stevens died.

When I was in second grade, we saw “Carrie.” I liked that, too, only I did not get the “blood in the shower” scene all that much and asked him about it. He did his best to explain menstruation.

Somewhere in between those two, we saw “Blacula,” multiple Hammer Studios titles (including “Countess Dracula”) and the entire “Dirty Harry” oeuvre. And I can’t say I was ever scared, or scarred for that matter.

One of the best things about my Dad and movies was that he always had his priorities straight and knew what was more important: missing an occasional day of school or seeing an “event” movie.

These are some of the movies my Dad and I skipped school to see:

“Star Wars”
“Superman” & “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (Same Day!)
“Airplane!”
“The Empire Strikes Back”

There were probably quite a few more, but these were the ones I recall. I will never quite forget “Star Wars.” The audience was filled with kids (so quite a few other parents must have had the same idea) and when the opening credits rolled, people cheered!

David's Self-Portrait

This is David James's self-portrait and he's not doing himself justice in the least. Davey you are talented and hot.

Frey Revisited

James Frey's Root Canal?

I'm having second thoughts about the James Frey mess. Part of it is because journalists keep digging and prodding and keeping it alive. I'm not surprised. Most journalists are overworked, underpaid and underappreciated and many have a book they cannot get published so someone like James Frey automatically makes them envious. Add the scandal and they have perfect opportunity to let it rip.

I guess I just did not realize how much he had lied about. The thing about having root canal with no painkiller is so absurd. The last time anyone had root canal with no painkiller was when Larry Olivier worked on Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. Another work of fiction, that is.

And it goes on.

Oprah Semple McPherson should have waited a little longer with her verdict because in my opinion Frey is moving from gray area to out-and-out manipulation to make a buck territory.

I love Tom Zeller Jr.'s piece in The Times today. I had not realized people were doubting the veracity of his writing way back.

Obsessive Compulsive

Angie & Joan: 2 of my former obsessions...

I was a fairly strange child. At the very least, I had strange hobbies and interests. I realize this now. By child, I mean roughly the ages of 9-14. At about 14 or 15 I became obsessed with sex, drinking, drugs and the pursuit of popularity and all my other hobbies and interests fell by the wayside.

My first obsession was with ”Charlie’s Angels.” All things Jill, Sabrina & Kelly. Posters, magazines, books, trading cards. The show itself was secondary. I used to secretly stay up late (10-11 Wednesdays ABC)and watch it on a tiny Zenith B&W TV. As far as the trading cards, I wouldn't just buy the packs, I would buy entire boxes. I think the girl at the candy store thought I was demented.

I also had a thing for Steve Austin and Jamie Sommers. And "Three's Company." And "Wonder Woman" with Lynda Carter. And "Soap." I was very precocious. I remember watching "Soap" with my family and deliberately laughing out loud at jokes I did not understand because I wanted them to think I understood them. Sometimes they would talk about me in the third person with me right there: "Does he know what a lesbian is? I don't think he does."

At some point in there, I got into DC Comics. It was the late 70s and was probably the worst era ever for comic art and storylines but I religiously purchased weekly comics for about a dozen titles. That continued for about a year. I still have them but they are worthless.

I was very excessive as a child. They used to show a lot of old movies on TV then and they often had theme weeks. I particularly remember "The 4:30 Movie" and "The Morning Movie." The themes were often things like "Spies," "Mysteries" and "Edgar Allen Poe." If I was sick on a Monday and Tuesday, I would watch the morning movie which aired at 10AM and just have to see the rest of the week's morning movies. (This was pre-VCR.) So I would feign continuing illness to do so. I remember staying home an entire week once just to watch "Bikini Beach Week" and some of the worst early 60s beach flicks ever produced. But I had to complete the circle.

I also liked to read and at some point I got very into the Bios and Autobios of old Hollywood actresses. I don't know why I would ever want to read about Joan Crawford or Shelley Winters or Susan Hayward or Evelyn Keyes. I do know for certain that my friends had no idea who Susan Hayward and Evelyn Keyes were. They did know Joan because the "Mommie" book had come out and they knew Shelley because she was in "The Poseidon Adventure" and ”The Initiation of Sarah” and everyone saw "The Initiation of Sarah."

But two books I read and read repeatedly were ”Edie” and ”Savage Grace.” (I understand "Savage Grace" is filming now with Julianne Moore as Babs Daly Baekland.) I think it was because I so longed to be transported into the environment of those books (60s Manhattan.)

But anyway, back to my obsessions. In around 7th grade I got really into starlets and B Movie Actresses of the 50s and 60s. I especially loved 8 x 10 B & W studio shots. There was something so appealing to me about the smoothness, the artifice. I sent away for catalogs from Movie Star News and Jerry Ohlinger's Movie Material Store and many others. I used to study that MSN catalog. I remember B & W stills were $2 each and I would often send $10 cash and hope for the best. You could not often specify which stills you wanted and they had so many so oftentimes you would simply order a name and specify "portrait" or "evening dress" or something like that. I relied on them to furnish the "best" shot and mostly I was happy. Except for this really cheesey Dalia Lavi silly costume cheesecake that I'm still annoyed about...

Anyway, I totally kept this from my parents. I think it was primarily because I did not want them interfering. It was not because they would think I was weird because they were weird, too, but more so they would just not start a conversation with me about it. My parents were very critical and I could not stand the thought of them telling me I was wasting my money or telling me I should ask my father to write a check instead of sending cash because then they would have to be involved and want to know what photos I was ordering. I liked it much better as a secret, something I could shop for buy and keep with them knowing nothing about it.

While I liked a lot of the girls, the big queen of my 8 x 10s was Angie Dickinson. I loved Angie. And that she was still a viable commodity in the present day was even better. I think seeing "Dressed to Kill" in 1981 cemented it for me. Angie was hot.

Aside from Angie, I really dug Marilyn clones, Bond girls, copycat Bond girls, 1960s Euro imports and just about every starlet in every Hammer movie & every Matt Helm movie. Here's a partial list:

Sheree North--A great combo of warmth and vitality.
Cleo Moore--Grade Z Marilyn Clone but something pathetically raw about her.
Joan Collins--1950s.
Anita Ekberg--The Iceberg.
Tina Louise--Circa "God's Little Acre."
Julie Newmar--In her "Newmeyer" days.
Elke Sommer--Circa 1959-65.
Ursula Andress--John Derek 1950s Swiss starlet days.
Honor Blackman--Avengers-Goldfinger.
Suzy Parker--NYC & Hollywood & Dorian Leigh was her sister.
Barbara Steele--Rank Studio days.
France Nuyen--"In Love and War."
Nancy Kwan--60s icing.
Karin Dor--Helga Brandt.
Dahlia Lavi--More 60s icing but Shirley Eaton saying she had BO on the set of "10 Little Indians" kind of soured me on her.
Virna Lisi--Sublime looks.
Sylva Koscina--"Jessica."
Luciana Paluzzi--"Thunderball" to "99 Women."
Sharon Tate--"The Wrecking Crew."
Sandro Milo--"Juliet of the Spirits."
Gila Golan--"Valley of the Gwangi."
Martine Beswick--Hammer & Bond.
Ingrid Pitt--Hammer
Julie Ege--Hammer
Caroline Munro--Hammer & Bond and the last of a breed in my opinion.

Anyway, like I said way at the top, at some point I became more interested in my dick and the dicks of others and all those girls took a backseat, but I still have the 8 x 10 glossies...

P.S.--And special props to Susan Kohner who was so affecting in her few roles and gave it all up to raise John & Chris Weitz.

Borough Sex

Chewable Borough Ass

I recently made the leap from Manhattan to Brooklyn and not all poseur Brooklyn like Williamsburg or fake Tribeca like DUMBO or that odd combination of Chelsea and the Upper East Side known as Park Slope but real down and dirty working class Brooklyn.

I love it. First off, I can wear the same jeans and sweater for days on end and it just does not matter. Secondly, everyone I meet in the neighborhood asks if I'm married and wants to set me up. With their daughter/sister/niece. Third, my body, which gets about a B/B+ in Manhattan is considered A+ here. (I think I'd be off the scale in the midwest lol.)But best of all, there are all these damn cute hot working class men running around. And it's so hard to tell what's what. There is no outwardly gay scene here but there is this major undercurrent and you feel it and when you pick up on it, it's hot. What I mean is, everyone is so butch, probably out of necessity, but you know a lot of them are gay or DL and when you connect, it's awesome.

Case in Point: I saw this guy come into the gym the other day. Noticed him right off. About 5'8" and humpy. Big neck and shoulders and chest but not overly defined. Good thick head of hair, light brown. Great skin, not a blemish on him. This kid was pure Polish peasant stock, maybe with one Italian grandparent thrown in. Totally straight looking little pugilist. USMC shirt but not all faggy and tight. I got so hard but put it outta my head. Straight Boy. He did his own thing, got on the bike and I was on the tread behind him so I got a nice look.

Well, he finished up and about 5 minutes later so did I. Went down to the locker room and couldn't decide whether or not to go through all the drama of a steam/sauna:

1)Sometimes I want a real steam or sauna but I get distracted by sex.
2)Sometimes I want sex but get distracted by the steam or sauna (too hot/cold/I get too dehydrated etc.)
3)Sometimes the person I want does not want me or vice-versa.
4)Sometimes it's boring and the guy just wants to "look."
5)Sometimes, there are just too many trolls and it sends my cock down.
6)Sometimes there is the very real possibility of getting busted.

Anyway, I saw my little Pugilistic Polish Peasant head off butt naked and enter the steam room. He had a very nice ass. Completely the kind of ass that you want to chew--fleshy but firm.

So, I showered and went into the (empty) sauna. If anybody wanted me they could come get me. 5 minutes later PPP walks in, butt naked. Starts doing this whole thing where he changes positions every couple of minutes. Sitting naked. On his back naked. Then my favorite: Stretching with his back to me giving me an awesome view of that ass.

Well, that did it, I started getting hard. I wasn't sure where this was going but whatever. So get this: He looks right at my lengthening cock and says in this deep voice: "Nice View." But it wasn't all gay, it was like a friendly, buddy, headshaking in wonderment at my cock's size kind of comment. Well, fuck, that got me harder cuz nothing gets me off more than someone I'm into who's into me.

There aren't too many salacious details. It was not happening that day but we played a little grab-ass and exchanged digits. Potential booty call for sure.

Speaking of booty calls, I saw this guy today I've been trying to trick with at my gym. That's another thrill I dig: seeing somebody that looks kinda familiar, wondering how I know him, then remembering: Oh yeah, he sent me like 7 naked pics of himself. Anyway, I texted him today and asked if it was him, I'll let you know if he answers.

Music that Hooked Me: 1970s-83/84

Possibly My Favorite Music Year (1983)

My earliest music memories are of AM pop music in the '70s. I remember really digging "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." And "Love Will Keep Us Together." Begging coins from my Dad to play Captain & Tenille on the jukebox.

Then I remember the "Rumours" album at summer camp. Side 1 over and over and over again.

Cut through the Disco era cuz that's worthy of another post and to the late 70s/early 80s.

I listened mostly to a combination of Casey Kasem's Top 40 on Sunday mornings and the harder rock of my older brother's friends (like AC/DC.)

My first "favorite group" was Blondie. I loved the "Eat to the Beat" album. And Cheap Trick. "Surrender" and Robin Zander were too cool.

Then groups like REO, Rush, Asia, Genesis and Journey dominated. Yet simultaneously I was listening to Pat Benatar & Billy Joel.

All in all, though, nothing really did it for me.

Then one day, a song called "Don't You Want Me?" by The Human League popped up on the Top 40 and it hooked me instantly. It sounded so different, so new. Right around then I also heard Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" for the first time and that totally grabbed me too. There was something so fresh about this music.

(Sidebar: My grandma used to watch "Merv Griffin" on TV every night and one night he had Soft Cell on. Surreal: Merv's shining 70s set and Marc Almond...God knows who booked them)

Not long after, I was flipping the radio around and I came across "WLIR." The reception was a little tentative but I got it.

They were playing a totally new sound and it hooked me immediately. This was what I had been looking for. This was my music.

Sometime in 1983 I heard this amazing imported version of "West End Girls" on LIR. That song to me was like an orgasm. I remember listening to it again and again and again on my Walkman. But to this day I have yet to hear it again. WEG was re-released a year or so later, after the US caught on to New Wave and the Second British Invasion. But it was a different version and always bummed me out.

There were so many good songs then: Thompson Twins: "Love on Your Side," Psych Furs: "Love My Way." The Cure: "The Walk." Romeo Void: "Never Say Never." Peter Godwin: "Images of Heaven." I could (and will, with little encouragement) go on.

Anyway, I was digging it all until about 1984/85 when it all started to get too mainstream. Something about MTV, Pop Radio, American "versions" of Euro New Wave Hits, formerely cool bands getting all Top 40 on me (Berlin and The Thompson Twins to name a couple) killed any lingering coolness. And then there were the "Hair Bands" to contend with.

In about 1986, I turned my attention to House Music & Rap, but that's a future post...

Gay Men: Profile Text & Pix

Typical Gay Male Profile Photo?

I've been viewing a lot of online profiles lately and some things really stand out and bother me.

-A&F: If you're over 25, don't go in the store or wear the clothes. You're too old and look pathetic and/or creepy.

-Cock Size: Don't talk inches, just post a photo. Too many people lie or just don't use the universal method of measuring. A photo takes care of the problem. If it looks big enough, it probably is.

-Age: 90% of every gay profile is 3 - 5 years older than they say they are. I do get it, though, cuz you need to have some parameters when searching and if you're 25 you may cut it off at 40 when there's a perfectly hot 42 year old out there who will not show up in your search unless he says he's 37. I like the guys who do not list their age, I think that is cool.

-Looks: "VGL" or "Been told I'm rather attractive." Two sides of the same coin. The VGLs are to be avoided because people you want to spend time with just do not classify themselves as "VGL." It's just arrogant and a little creepy. Likewise, the "Been tolds" strike me as very insecure and lacking in humour. The kind of guy you meet and he's like "What? What do you mean by that??" Again, dude, you posted a photo, I think I can tell if I think you're good looking or not.

-Pretentious Descriptions: You know the type well.
-----Career: "International Banking"
-----Fave Location: "Helsinki & Santiago"
-----Fave Vaction Spot: "Seychelles & Majorca"
-----Activities: "Spelunking & Fencing (Épeé)"
-----Fave TV Show: "Do not have a Television"
Do I really need to expand? These types are usually "VGL" by the way.

-Boys/Boyz/Bois: Not unlike the A&F issue, you are not a boy any more unless you are under 18 in which case you probably should not have a profile. I can maybe accept it in casual conversation but really only accept it in mothers from whom it is perfectly acceptable to refer to their 30-something sons as "boys" as in "I'm so excited, the boys both are coming home for Thanksgiving!"

Bush Bashing: Don't say you hate Dubya unless you are prepared to explain why. And saying something like "Because he, uh, hates gays" is just not a good answer. There are, quite frankly, hundreds of reasons to hate Bush but they involve having at least a fundamental understanding of politics, government and current events. In other words, don't hate him because everyone else hates him. (Doing something because everyone else is doing it is why you got an iPod.) Understand why you hate him, then you can publicly hate him.

Glamour Photos: Back in the day, hearing "I don't have a scanner" on AOL chat was a legitimate excuse for not having a pic. But now, between phones, vid-cams, digital cams and yes, even scanners, everyone has many many photos. However, all of this cheap digital equipment has put hundreds of would-be photographers into the business of taking boudoir photos of gay men to use on their profile.

I have a problem with this on so many levels.

1)If the photos are too damned good and you look too polished and God-like you are going to be a major disappointment to whomever you meet. Shadows, lighting, angles, etc. do wonders for people (that's why so many stars are so scary/icky in person.) Why not have a normal photo and look better in person?

2)Too many men look too creepy and posed and cutesey. I don't want to see you looking coquettishly over your shoulder, like some girly cheesecake photo of Betty Grable. It kind of makes me think you're a big flaming queen. Like, you may be, but let me find out in person. In other words, when I'm licking your balls I appreciate that they are shaved but I don't want to think about you all soaped up with your razor in the tub grooming.

3)A lot of these photographers suck and make some people look bad. I bet a lot of them do it for practice, kicks and the occasional blow job and of course there are hundreds of insecure gay men that feed right into it: "What? You think I'm hot and want to photograph me? Of course, I'll be right over!"

My advice? Take pics of yourself. Use the mirror, the timer, a tripod, a scanner--whatever. Everything does not have to be so rehearsed all the time. Reality is sexier than image.

So, anyway, that's my take on the profiles I have seen recently. I've left a lot out (like those who write descriptions that go-on-for-many-many-paragraphs and then chirp at the end "well, if you've come this far, you probably like what you read so far!" No, I'm just shocked and awed that somebody can write so much drivel...) but I'll revisit this subject again cuz I like it so much.

Frederic Deltour

Frederic Deltour is someone I did not even know existed until about 10 minutes ago. He is a former Mr. France, it seems...

1980s Club Scene NYC

My prime club years were 1984 - 1991. I started very young. Cough. But really, it is true.

I was around for the death of the cavernous clubs (Danceteria, Area, Palladium, Limelight) the birth of the intimate clubs (Nell's, M.K.) the growing East Village and LES scene (The World, Pyramid, Save the Robots) the advent of theme nights and the "club kid invasion" and the rebirth of the cavernous clubs (Tunnel, Mars.)

Things I remember in no particular order, some good, some ugly.

-The utter fabulousness of Susanne Bartsch nights at Bentley's & then Copa. Copa was magic: Dancing to Voodoo Ray with the most beautiful boy and the most beautiful girl in thw world.

-Malcolm Forbes in his "leather" phase always with a different boy-toy.

-Marc Jacobs and his ultra hairy legs in short denim shorts.

-Andy Warhol & Keith Haring.

-One very cold very crowded New Year's Eve on a queue outside The Mike Todd Room of Palladium. RuPaul (before she had a hit single) was hoisted above by the crowd and actually walked on people's heads to get to the front of the line.

-Mutual handjobs with a very cute Aussie named Michael in the restroom (the one you could lock) on the top floor of Mars.

-Lady Hennessey Brown's show at Bentley's...It was like the kind of show you'd expect to see in some dark off the road place a guide in Thailand would drive you to...

-Sound Factory at 5:00 AM when all the familiar club door people and bouncers and bartenders would show up. I remember dancing with Codie Ravioli to "Car Wash."

-Getting to The Garage on one of the last nights before it closed: Dancing all night and getting high with a hundred others on the roof as the sun rose.

-Sitting on the big bed upstairs at MK with Lauren Hutton while we both smoked and drank long neck Buds.

-Getting chosen for admittance by Sally Randall at Palladium when it was really the hottest place and I'm convinced to this day that it was because I flung off my demure black overcoat and showed off my iridescent greenish/purplish Claude Montana blazer. (Uh, it was 1985, leave me alone.)

-Spilling coke on the disgusting floor of the disgusting balcony of limelight and my friend and I licking the floor in a desperate attempt not to let a gram go to waste.

-Getting kicked out of Pyramid with my friend "G" cuz we brought in our own beers.

-Gettting kicked out of Robots with my friend "G" cuz we were doing lines.

-Watching International Chrysis perform one of her last shows ever at Boy Bar. (After she died her friends were going through her things and found a mummified dead man in one of her trunks...Quite True.)

-Having a crush on an "older" (he was probably 30 lol) guy at my gym and the thrill of seeing him, dancing with him and asking him out at Mars.

-Hanging out with a 6'4" tranny named Robi Martin who was having her moment having had speaking lines in both "Longtime Companion" and "Last Exit to Brooklyn."

-Coming home with sometimes dozens of paper invites to other clubs that were handed out at the clubs. Do they still do that?

At some point, I just got bored with the scene. Actually, I think I got a boyfriend who did not like to go to clubs and that was fine with me. By the time I was ready to get back into the scene, it had changed and I did not like it anymore. It had gotten too hard and druggy and violent.

I had a lot of fun but I'm glad those days are over. It was too much work. Too many outfits, too much drugs and not enough sex. Not to mention it is totally for the young. You need to spend hours getting ready, spend all night (and sometimes all morning out) and then sleep half the day.

The funny things is, at the time I always felt like I was on the sidelines, on the outside looking in, when, in retrospect, I was deep, deep inside. I think I just knew too many people who went to clubs the first night they opened so that by the time I went (the second night, literally), I felt like I had missed out--which is clearly ridiculous and just an indication of my insecure self at that time.

Gay Men: Hook Ups

My Best Trick Ever (circa 2002)

This is the first in my series on gay men. Tonight I look at Internet Hook Ups.

It should be so easy, it really should. Dozens of sites, thousands of profiles, digital photos, blackberries and other wireless devices...You should be walking around and treat sex like a latte at Starbucks: "I'm in SoHo and I feel like a blowjob by a redhead--let me see who's around."

But it is so hard to get heard through the clutter and people have so many issues.

1)There are pic-traders who have no intention of ever meeting and just want your photos.

2)There are those who feel that "something better will come along" and they keep looking and looking to the point of inertia.

3)There are those who romanticize the whole process and seem to forget that it is all about sex.

4)There are those with dozens of rules ("No Asians, Weekends, Leather, Smoking, Foreskins or Polydactyls.)

But then lets say you find someone and it seems mutual. First, there is the host vs travel dilemma. Most who insist on hosting are not doing it because they don't feel like traveling, they are doing it so they can shut a door in someone's face if they don't like them in person.

Then, if you actually manage to meet, you run the risk of a few realities:

1) You may be rejected.

2) He may be not as advertised.

3) You may have bad sex.

#1 should not happen, but it does. Case in point: Me. I have a great body, a big dick, a decent face and a butch demeanor. My pix and profiles are very accurate. I also know what I like to do in bed and am clear about that. Last summer, I met someone who did not really look like his picture. Shorter, squatter and a bit "hey dude-ish" for me. But that was OK. I can change gears fast. I like sex. Enough said. But then he threw me for a loop: "I'm just not feeling it," he said. I was a little surprised and a little amused (wasn't I supposed to be rejecting him?) but no hard feelings and I went on my way.

That is the problem in a nutshell. These sites are about having sex. Not "feeling it" doesn't matter, all your supposed to feel is my cock in your ass.

#2 does not bother me so much. Most people put their most flattering photos up so of course they look different in person. I think too many people fill in the blanks with the wrong information and fetishize photos so when they meet they are disappointed.

What does bother me is gross misrepresentation. Don't be 30 lbs overweight. Don't have a photo with a hot crew cut and then I see you and you're all Fabio.

#3 is a problem. Why do so many gay men think they are so good at sex when all so many can do is suck your cock too fast then flip over? Good sex is about knowing what you like to do and have done to you. It's about being comfortable with your desires and with your body. And for me, it's about a little lead time. A little talking, kissing, making out before we get to the main attraction.

I was with someone recently who claimed it would be "mutual fun." Kiss, make-out, JO, oral, maybe fuck. The reality was he ripped my pants off within 60 seconds of meeting and blew me like he was blowing up the M&M float at the Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was baaaad. I barely got hard I hated it so much. I tried to kiss him and he gave me his neck. Pass. And that's all he wanted. Just to fulfill his selfish fantasy of giving a nearly anonymous BJ. If he'd told me beforehand, I would have passed. Be honest, people.

But I still have hope. My profiles are now firmer and I try to vet people a little more. I'm still chasing the dragon:

My first Internet hook up was the best. We vid-cammed (see photo above) for about a month before it happened so we knew each other well physically. He was friendly and clean and hot as hell in person and he felt the same way about me. He was hook-up etiquette to a "T." 5 minutes of talk, 10 of hot and heavy kissing, then 45 of awesome, mind-blowing mutual jo and oral. He was just my type: dark hair, blue eyes, alabaster skin, lean body and a dick like a beer can. What fun. Then we cleaned up, talked for a few and it was "adios." They should all be so good.

Bottom line: Street cruising is better. Too many people online are stifled by some concept of perfection: if they don't have it, they are insecure about themselves and stymied, and if their potential hook-up doesn't have it, they are insecure about what it says about them.

It's about good, hot, convenient sex. Fast Food. No nutritional value but should be good while you're doing it.

Missing Groom

George Smith

I have been following this story as much as it can be followed and, let me tell you, it has not been easy. I have seen George Smith's parents on Larry King and his wife on Oprah Semple McPherson (where Oprah threw her bitch Gayle a bone and allowed her to share the stage) and read many stories and there are so many contradictions and the chain of events is just so muddy and no one seems to be able to tell the story in a coherant manner.

As much as I would like to villify the big bad cruise industry, I'm just not ready until I have more facts.

One thing I will say: whether or not she is telling the truth, how anyone can believe Jennifer Hagel is not telling the truth when she says she "doesn't remember" just proves my point that people have a very difficult time understanding something unless they have personally experienced it. What I mean is, if you have never blacked out from drinking, you just don't get it. I used to black out 2-3 times a week from about ages 17 to 22. I had entire experiences I do not remember. I had long, meaningful conversations I don't remember. I had sex I don't remember. Alcohol effects everyone differently.

And,if she did not blackout, somebody slipped her a mickey, rohypnol, whatever.

The following has nothing to do with any fact, it is just a perverse possibility and given the fact that there is so little to go on, it is as good as any:

George Smith was partying with four younger guys. That much has been established. He or one of those guys wanted Jennifer out of the way for a while and drugged her. George and one of those guys ended up back in his (empty) room between 3:30 and 4:00 AM. An argument was heard on both sides of the cabin and the neighbors called security. By the time security came by at 4:30, the room was empty. Perhaps either George or one of the guys wanted to get it on with the other and one and of them was not having it. A fight ensued and there was an accident and George was either killed or hurt (neighbors heard a loud "thud.") The other guy freaked out and hoisted George out the cabin and overboard.

Like I said, a wild guess but it would not be the first time an elaborate cover-up was conceived to hide an accidental death (Jon-Benet, anyone?)

Anyway, hopefully the Feebs will come up with something and Dr. Henry Lee will do more than charge a fortune and talk about how the investigation should have been handled...Time will tell.

And on another note, in researching this I came across this site dedicated to missing people. It's really sad but informative and reminded me of the following:

I knew a kid in 2nd, 3rd and 4th grade who was a year older. His name was Eddie. He was a little weird, a little violent and I only had to hang out with him because our parents were friends. One time he forced me do math flash cards against my will. It sound laughable and it kind of is but it was really disturbing at the time.

Anyway, we moved but our parents stayed friends and I later learned that in 7th or 8th grade Eddie ran away and never came back. My father said he went to Times Square and a "Chicken Hawk" got him. The NYPD and his father used to look for him (like George C. Scott in Hardcore) but they never found him. That used to give me nightmares when I was little...

HR People

Why is it that HR people are constantly griping about "employee retention" and attracting "qualified candidates" and "passive job seekers" yet, by and large, they are the most unpleasant employees in any organization?

I used to do some work for HR people and every time I would visit an office, the HR Assistant would practically spit at me and grumble "Are you here for an interview?" When I would say "No, I'm the consultant meeting with (insert generic HR Chick name here)Pam/Holly/Margaret" the HR assistant would get all nicey-nice. I'd sit and wait for Pam/Holly/Margaret and watch. I'd get offered water or coffee and the job applicants would get a smirk and a clipboard.

And HR people are forever going to conferences and seminars. They come back with oodles of re-purposed ideas and spend half a day tweaking their pointless little psychology tests. (What is your favorite color? Why? If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be? Why?)

And for a group of people who are privvy to the most confidential and personal information an organization has to offer, they are constantly blabbing: "I can't tell you who, but she works in accounting and developed a substance abuse problem after her twins were born last year." Uh, could it be Lana from accounting who's always late and has her newborn twins as her screen saver?

The only advice I can offer regarding an interview with an HR person is believe nothing they lead you to believe as you leave. They can't seem to resist saying something like "We'll definitely be seeing you again!" or "What's the best number ot reach you at?" when 15 minutes after you leave they are printing out and stamping your rejection letter.

My best advice towards HR people is try to get in through a back door and meet with a department head first. That's always fun because HR people hate when they meet with you second.

Baby Names

A girl I know just had a baby and named her "Sadie Pearl." To the best of my knowledge, she is neither a deceased Southern seamstress nor a flapper. I was alarmed in the 90s with all the "Emilys" & "Jessicas" but heading back to Civil War era names is just weird. I don't know where I have been, but I also just found out that in 1999, "Jacob" knocked long-reigning champ "Michael" to the #2 spot in baby name popularity.

The L Word

Ex-Murmur Girl

Liked it the first season. What a surprise as dyke dramas are notoriously dull. Yet the 2nd season sucked with a cap "S." If TV wasn't so lousy, I never would have even turned it on again for the 3rd yet I did and guess what? It's getting good again. Shane is neutered and Carmen only seems to exist to rope in the straight boys who hope to get a glimpse of her knockers (damn, so do I, them boobs be nice) however it appears to be going somewhere good. We'll see...

BTW, I will always have a soft spot for Leisha Hailey as when she was part of the duo known as Murmur I hung out with her and her manager in her Partridge Family van one night after their gig at Brownies in NYC. She was so cute in her little gingham blouse. My friend "G" had a big crush on her but nothing happened. Happy for Leisha :-)

God

If you're into God, do me a favor and leave me alone. Religion was created to answer a lot of questions people had about scary things like thunder and sharks. When science came along and answered those questions we no longer needed it. Additionally, religion was a nice way to enforce order before civil law. For example, murder = go to hell was replaced by murder = death penalty. Yet religion persists...In 3rd world countries, heaven is a reward after a difficult life of poverty and is excusable. Yet in the US it seems to be a simply a social club, often of exclusion, that is somehow elevated and verboten to criticize because it has to do with "religion" and is therefore somehow sacred. All the wars have been fought either for religion, land (natural resources) or a combination of both. Forget about God and work on yourself.

Anderson Cooper

Overexposed?

If you're a fan: forgive me.

I like Anderson, I really do. He's got good New York cred, he's got a cool mom, a tragic family history, seems completely un-fucked up considering his background and is clearly not afraid to get dirty yet ever since Katrina he is over-exposed and crossing that line. Cult-favorite to mainstream is cool, but overexposed sucks and the tides are turning for me...

James & Oprah & JT

Shannyn or JT?


Oprah Semple McPherson


James and Confused

I want to throw my 2 cents about James Frey into the ring. First off, I did not read his book. I find memoirs self-indulgent and boring and only like the ones with good masturbation fodder such as those by former male hustlers. (I also liked Sean Wilsey’s, at least the first half.) Overall, I find them to be the literary version of reality TV.

Anyway, I was reading the NY Times Book Review a couple of weeks ago and marveled to Dude about the success of “A Million Little Pieces” and launched into some diatribe on publishing and readers' appetites and Oprah Semple McPherson.

Lo and behold the following day there was a meaty little New York Times front page story about J.T. Leroy. The Leroy thing always smelled fishy and the drumbeats increased a few weeks ago with the New York Magazine piece but the Times nailed it. It’s a great story. It is like “Dressed to Kill” meets “SVU” but nobody dies. Wigs, hoodwinked celebs, EuroDisney, Asia Argento and a hottie who looks just like Shannyn Sossaman.

Now, this Shannyn look-a-like apparently received a call from a Times reporter and said something to the effect of “I can’t deal with this now” then hung up. I love that. She can’t deal with it. I-am-so-beautiful-and-an-artist-and-I-cannot-have-some-mortal-bothering-me. Shannyn look-a-like needs to know that if a reporter calls and you can’t deal with is you say “no comment” until you get your shit together. If you say “I can’t deal with it” you sound like an arrogant brat. But she got a break when Frey-Gate broke.

It must be a double-edged sword. You get so-so reviews and decent sales but then Oprah Semple McPherson comes a knocking and the world opens up for you. But then pesky investigative journalists start sniffing around…

But this isn’t really about James Frey, it’s about Oprah Semple McPherson. Nobody cared much about James Frey until Oprah Semple McPherson chose him. And I’m not surprised by her reaction because no matter how powerful and influential and wealthy Oprah Semple McPherson is, she is still an insecure mess who needs constant attention and praise and affirmation. Just watch her show for a week and you’ll pick up on it.

Perfect and Apropos Example:

Oprah's Book Club Part I: Reading is Fundamental. In an effort to get more American to read Oprah started her book club. All was dandy until The Franzen dared to say no to Oprah. He just wasn’t that into her. And what did she do? Forget it and move on? No. She freaked out. Freaked out. You don’t say no to Oprah Semple McPherson, especially when your RSVP has the whiff of snobbery. Poor Oprah. In so many ways she still feels like the poor ignorant little girl she once was. But come on, is it really a surprise that a writer of over praised literary fiction is a snob? But her ego couldn’t take it. So she folded the book club. Closed the shit down. So much for getting Americans to read. Let them read “O.”

Oprah's Book Club Part II: Dead Can’t Dance. Oprah brought her book club back but played it safe by only choosing classics (aka dead authors cannot hurt her.) John Steinbeck wouldn’t be dissing Oprah any time soon. But it didn’t work. The flock was unhappy: “I had to read that in high school and couldn’t even get through the Monarch notes” was heard more than once. The ratings were unhappy: shows filmed in the hometowns of dead authors weren’t crowd-pleasers. And the publishers and authors weren’t happy: No more brass ring to reach for. But then came the Frey. The Frey. The Frey. Oprah Semple McPherson was so moved by the Frey that…

Oprah's Book Club Part IIII: Return to Fiction Place. Everyone was happy. The flock, the publishers, the authors and especially Oprah Semple McPherson. Until the Smoking Gun…

So, James appears on Larry King and Larry is being harder on James than he usually is. He’s always so blasé and half-there that when he gets tough my arms get goose bumps. But James (who certainly sounds like he did a load of drugs in the past) isn’t budging and keeps relying on publishing speak/marketing BS:

Larry: But a memoir is synonymous with fact, isn’t it?

James: The format of memoir is still defining itself as it is relatively new genre yada yada.

So, Larry was a little tough and mean and James was a little monotonous and vague then Momma James came out and they took a bunch of calls from women who all sounded like they would be big bores at cocktail parties and if it wasn’t for James they would be writing mash notes to Scott Peterson in prison.

The name Oprah was invoked about 25 times and you just knew she was sitting home watching because Oprah loves to read and watch anything about her. She acts like it’s a lark but she positively studies The National Enquirer.

So my guess is Oprah had a few things going through her mind:

1) She couldn’t deal with another flakey Book Club scandal.

2) She couldn’t disappoint the thousands of people who had been helped by the book and thus call their epiphanies into question (like my little old aunt who found out years ago that the saint she had prayed to her whole life had been defrocked.)

3) She felt a little responsible— after all, if she hadn’t chosen him none of this would have happened because nobody would have cared.

4) She got a little Momma Bearish for James since Larry was a little mean and James was so “well, whatever Oprah Semple McPherson thinks is fine by me and I’ll accept it.”

So, she calls in and gets all Scott McClellan on us (to borrow from a Maureen Dowd op-ed piece—thanks Mo!) and says something like “the basic core of redemption resonates and has not been eroded by some factual inconsistencies."

Well, you could practically hear the publishing community opening up their windows and shouting “I’m happy as hell and I don’t have to wonder any more.” James, too, unclenched his jaw for the first time all night.

I have to tell you that I really don’t have a problem with James Frey and his artistic liberties. Dude disagrees: he thinks that like a witness who lies on the stand, Frey is tainted and you can’t believe anything. But I’m a bit more forgiving. For starters, it’s not journalism, it’s art. Different rules. Secondly, I know how damned difficult it is to get a first book published and when Nan Talese and Doubleday are in the driver’s seat, you let them to whatever they want to do. So my take is that when he was shopping it as a novel, it had a 90 day prison stay because it was much meatier than a 6 hour stay. Then he either forgot or just didn’t change because when you are about to get published for the first time, you can hardly believe it and don’t want to make any waves. Plus, you're goddamned sick of editing. But if it was me I would have had a little disclaimer in the beginning about embellishments...

Anyway, it's blowing over and all I wish is that we’d get some heavy duty coverage of JTL & Co...

Mission Statement

gratuitous torso shot

Today is January 16 2006 and I have decided to start a blog because I need to have a mental colonic on a regular basis. I exercise a lot and that usually exhausts me to the point of fatigue but it's just not doing it like it used to.

So, first and foremost, this is for me. If anyone reads this and is entertained or can relate that is excellent, but I'm not doing it for anyone but me.

Additionally, I am going to be very frank here. Besides all the day-to-day bs there will be talk about sex, violence and some things that people may find disturbing, so if you don't like what you see, change the channel.

I'm looking forward to this and I wish I had started it sooner. Full Disclosure: I had a blog in 2003 that documented my re-entering the work force and all my related anxiety but that did not last long as that job sucked the life out of me. I promise to keep up with this one...And I will always tell the truth: that is why I will definitely change names and other identifying characteristics.

On another note, for those so inclined, I should be posting lots of gratuitous semi-nude shots of myself just because I like to...