Manhattan Offender

Happy Fourth of July Weekend!

Yes, it's early, but I am out of here.  Just a few notes:

• I designed this red+white+blue=lavender thing.  I'm not sure if it is an original concept or not as to me it just seemed so, well, obvious.  Coming right out of Pride and straight into the Fourth, it just sort of sang to me.  It's too easy in the current political climate to be non-patriotic.  Sure, there's a lot of haters out there and a lot of them have power right now.  But at the end of the day, I still love my country.  It makes me weepy if I think about it to much, but as a GAY AMERICAN I want to fight to get back the country that I was promised growing up.  And fighting the system and voting and being a patriotic American by fighting the faux-religious-oil-military fuckers that have ruled by fear?  That's the most patriotic thing of which I can think.  Oh, and fireworks and sparklers, too.  And a good burger with the cheese melting on the grill.  Aw, Fourth of July, I love you.
• The new banner is courtesy of the Fire Island Invasion 2005.  I'll be in the Pines starting Friday for the week for a really nice break.  Hopefully some writer's block on the novel breaks.  If you're going to be there, give me a "Holla" and if your shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s, I promise to holla back.
• When I return to the city, it's sort of the beginning of a whole new chapter for me.  Mr. Ex will be moving out while I'm away.  Although I'm keeping the apartment, I've decided to throw/give away almost all of the furniture, in order to sort of re-boot.  In doing so I am  leaving for the week and coming home to an empty apartment.  No husband.  No dog.  No furniture. (Except for a bed.  The new Sealy Posturepedic Poise Firm arrives tomorrow.)  Don't get me wrong.  I'm in no way mope-y about this.  Re-reading the above it sounded a little Lisa Loeb-ish,   and I'm way more Kelly Clarkson about the situation.
• Have a great holiday.  A great, gay, American holiday!

MO Music: Pet Shop Boys - Fundamental

Released this week, Pet Shop Boys' Fundamental offers a mix for both the casual and hard-core fan.

Key to my review process is how ancillary a track is to working out.  The best possible review is that I drop the weights, find a dark corner and start dancing with myself in the mirror.  The worst is that I smash my iPod with a 35-pound dumbell, screaming, "Defiler! Defiler!"  Fundamental is neither of the above.

What it is, is an above average more pop than electro album.  Several tracks (Psychological, The Sodom And Gomorrah Show, Minimal, Integral) move nicely and will surely be remixed and on the floor soon.  As per usual, there are also the pop ballads which are somewhat less memorable, but solid.  I'm with Stupid is the strongest of these, a love ballad for Tony Blair and George W. Bush.

For the fans of Pet Shop Boys, Fundamental is an obvious must.  It is true to their sound at its best, perhaps because of the work of producer Trevor Horn who has been behind many of their biggest hits.  For the casual listener, the tracks could be a bit lull-y, but the lyrical pop numbers are solid.

Buy Pet Shop Boys - Fundamental

Or if you don't want to buy:

CONTEST:  Enter a Pet Shop Boys lyric here and you can win my review copy of the CD.

After the jump, track listings for both Fundamental and Fundamentalism, the bonus album of remixes available on the deluxe set.

Phone-cam quickie: Anybody up for a three-way?

Large vinyl banners are so much more effective than an ad on bigmuscle.  Seen in Astoria on the way to a friend's place.  It's actually a plumbing supply company.

MO Beach Reads: Heartbreaker: A Memoir of Judy Garland

 

"So, explain this whole Judy Garland thing to me?  Why'd those queens at Stonewall get so upset when she died?"  It's a question I had asked about seven years ago to a group of older gays (gelders?) at a dinner party.  They gave me an earful, but it never quite set.  Finally, having read this book, I finally 'get' Judy Garland.

Heartbreaker starts where Judy Garland's story is really ending.  The author, John Meyer, spent night and day with her in some of the last months of her life.

Meyer meets Garland at the apartment of a mutual acquaintance.  When he first meets her he is so struck that the fact that she is unbathed and in poor health escapes him.  His star-blindness also puts him in a nirvanic state where he can, in the beginning, ignore her various addictions, bizarre behavior, and that, in fact, over time he becomes less her lover and more her enabler.

The true strength of the book is the author's vivid recall of dialogue which makes the conversations come alive as if you were listening instead of reading.  This capture of the dialogue enables Meyer to showcase one of Garland's truly amazing abilities:  to entertain through storytelling. 

The action is quick and reads almost as a script for some perversion of an old Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland movie (of which I've seen none, but I think this is accurate).  Although some of the choices made seem maddeningly outrageous, it fits to the nature of the people involved.

The author, as caught in the whirlwind of Garland makes some horrific choices during his brief time with her, as often is the case in an enabling/addict relationship.  As Meyer eventually tries to break the patterns which are causing her to spiral out of control, eventually Garland finds someone else to allow her patterns to continue.

Meyer comes accross as excessively fannish, and, well, sort of gay.  He frequents piano bars and after-hours clubs.  In fact that first fateful meeting between Judy and John occurs in the apartment of a man that Meyer says had been hitting upon him.  And frankly, the cadence in which he writes is, well, flame-y.  His claim to being Judy Garland's lover during this brief time seems beard-y at times, but the book was written in a different era.

As a beach read, Heartbreaker is a perfect page-turner with a good mixture of humor and pathos.  Also, as re-released this year the book includes a cd of recordings made while the author and Garland rehearsed, putting real voices behind those in the book.

Buy Heartbreaker:  A Memoir of Judy Garland.

MO Movies: Superman Returns

Superman Returns is a welcome return to grandeur in movies.  Picking up from the notes of the previous movies, the film fits seemlessly, if the viewer can allow the film some conceits.  Without going into details, only a full recommendation is necessary.  While the full plot is solid, in typical Bryan Singer style, the subplots are the core of the film.  This is the film of the summer.

A few character notes:

• Clark Kent/Superman:  Routh is amazingly similar to Christopher Reeve.  He balances well the three characters that he is portraying, the two masks (Clark Kent and Superman) and the man behind them.  His first spoken line:  "Hey, boy".  If you're thinking that is vaguely sexual, you will be disappointed.
• Lois Lane:  Some critics have said that Lois is too dissimilar to the earlier portrayal, but when the full scope of the character is seen, the changes to Lois are understandable.  Reserve judgement of this character until you have seen all of the movie and all of the character reveals.
• Lex Luthor:  Kevin Spacey adds a darker edge to the character that, frankly, more fully fleshes out who Lex Luthor is.  Spacey's impecable sense of timing shines.
• Kitty Kowalski:  Fears that Parker Posey would be over-the-top camp are misfounded.  Our favorite Party Girl brings it in right on the money. 
• Others:  James Marsden takes a bit part and makes it a solid role as Richard White.  Eva-Marie Saint is precious as Ma Kent.  Frank Langella, one of my favorite actors, is on spot as Perry White.  Perhaps the weakest link is Jimmy Olsen; while the actor gives a serviceable performance, the character lacks any real meat into which any acting teeth can be sunk.

Super, man

Seeing Superman Returns at 10 p.m. tonight makes me a dork.  But I will do it.  And Brandon Routh will look into my eyes, and, hopefully, he will then ... act.

Pride parade: a religious experience

The parade segment of the weekend followed the typical template, meeting friend Pro-J at Fifth Avenue and Twenty-second Street and working our way down the parade route.  Our entourage swelled and collapsed like a silicone implant as we slowly proceeded down Fifth. 

Knowing that  the people I wanted to see would be, no doubt, below Fourteenth Street, my goal was to speed through Chelsea.  Others in our contingent were more Chelsea-centric and held us back to introduce us to what must have been 26 Michaels and 14 Kevins.  This constant starting and stopping put us in lock-step sync with the parade, meaning that for the entire time we had been 'entertained' by Klezmer-pop from a Jewish gay group and assailed with Hallelujahs from the God Made Me Gay float. 

Both floats broadcast their religious themed/inspired/tarnished tunes at blasphemous levels.  Conversation were difficult; cell calls impossible.  Eventually the dischord convinced the majority (actually all but me) to abandon the parade at Sixteenth.  Thrilled with my chance to hurry downtown, I grabbed a choco-vanilla swirl cone and was soon met by T-Dog at Thirteenth.

After grabbing pizza at Two Boots, we took off into the West Village and caught back up with the parade.  Just in time to see the same two floats blare pass by yet again.

Last bit on WYSIWYG

A few random, final notes regarding WYSIWYG:

• There are now some pictures up on flickr including the one above which isn't the best or worst shot I've ever taken.  I am rather surprised that they only used a shot of me before the striptease.  (And I'm gripping that mic like it's the last genital on the planet.)
• Some reviews have come in from an assortment of places:
  • Jon W. Collins
  • The Publishing Spot
  • From the Ashes ...
  • Someone in a Tree
  • and Worth Repeating on the AOL Gay/Lesbian channel provided some kind commentary before the show!
• And I've noticed that I never gave much mention to my fellow performers.  They were all very impressive and each had a moment to make my "butch bitch" laugh.  So a last bit of props to:
  • Curly
  • Spinster
  • Joel Derfner
  • dj:ayden
  • Joe
  • Greg
• We now take you back to your regularly scheduled retardation.  If more better/nakeder pictures surface I'll throw them in to the post jump spot.

MO Beach Reads: Like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse

 

THEORY:  Phyllis Diller is a better gay icon than Judy Garland, Cher, or Madonna.

PROOF:  Like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse

Phyllis Diller's autobiography is probably not in your library, but maybe it should be. 

Then again maybe I'm biased.  Her story is strangely similar to mine, and she is sort of an inspiration.

Like me, Diller grew up in a small Midwestern town and her career as an entertainer didn't really start until she was 37.   (Granted my work on the second half of that equation  is  still in progress.)  What is truly inspiring though is that she took the tough things in her life - less than perfect looks, a lonely childhood, and a strained home life - and turned them into comedy gold. 

In her time she was the first and foremost stand-up comedian.  Taking stories of home life and turning them on their ear, Diller was able to create relatable stories to which audiences responded.  In the early years of her career she supported her husband, who suffered from mental illness and five children, often wearing the same clothes day after day.  A particular low point was having to send her children to in-laws as she could no longer support the family.

Diller overcame her challenges and professed in the "Magic of Believing".  Her own confidence in herself afforded her the time and patience to see her progression up into entertainment history.  Her story, honestly, is encouraging and inspiring and the last page cannot be turned without a feeling of hope.

(Any regular reader would know also that I had appropriated the name Fang for my ex.  It turns out that Diller's Fang was largely fictional, and the truth about Fang was far worse.  In this Diller was able to express some of her emotional bondage to her husband.  In time her Fang actually adored the caricature.  My Fang (now Mr. Ex) was not a bad guy, just not the right guy for me.)

The page-turner does have some flaws in that she glosses over affairs through the years and although the account is very personal, the reader could be left with a feeling of not know her entire emotional landscape.  Otherwise the 266 page book is a wonderful insight into a woman who, through self-deprecating humor, perhaps never achieved the greater glory she deserved.

Like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse is the first of the MO recommended books for the beach this summer.  Instead of featuring the expected novels, it is hoped to pull out some more obscure, yet worthy books that still have the essential 'beach read' characteristics of lightness, page-turnability, and fun.  Buy it.

Pride shopping list

It's not too late to buy your pride essentials.

• The Pride Coloring Book

 

• Pride popper inhaler

 

• Pride Air Freshener

 

 

• And of course your Rainbow Song.