Saying Goodbye to a Hero

Jack Layton, leader of Canada's New Democratic Party (NDP), passed away a few weeks ago. He was a man I had admired for many years, and his death struck a chord with more Canadians than I think even he would have expected. For decades Canadian elections were a back and forth battle between the Progressive Conservatives and the Liberals - whichever party didn't win was always the Official Opposition Party. Well, not last time. The PCs won (boo! Hiss!) but for the first time in Canadian history, the NDP was the Official Opposition. The Liberal party suffered an historic defeat and the NDP an historic success. Canada's Green Party even won their first official seat, which thrilled me as I think Green party leader Elizabeth May is an absolute dynamo. An historic win - sending a message to not only the Liberal party to get their shit in order, but a message to NDP supporters and millions of other Canadians - we need to remember we're a country with multiple parties....we don't need to concede and vote for "the lesser of two evils."

I first met Jack Layton while I was out dancing at "Buddies" - my local go-to dance club - on a Saturday night out in Toronto when I was around 20/21 years old. Jack had come by to meet the young queer people of the city. Think about that - a candidate for Prime Minister going to one of the local gay nightspots to dance with the young gays, talk to them, listen to them, share with them, encourage them to vote and take an interest in politics.

Jack Layton always marched in the Pride Parades, too. Often his supporters had adorable signs which read "I'm a Layton Homosexual." Cute, eh?

(The last picture I've posted, though it's hard to read, is a snapshot of a chalk message which reads "Thank you for always marching in the Gay Pride Parades" - that's how important this man was to LGBT People - a leader that didnt' pay lip-service, this was a man who genuinely was proud to stand in solidarity with us, and call us Brother.)

This was a man, who with his wonderful wife Olivia Chow, absolutely championed the Equality of LGBT people. Ethnic minorities. The working class. The elderly. The poor. The needy. The "Us's", as Harvey Milk would say.

Was he perfect? No. Show me a politician that is and I'll show you a unicorn. But Jack was an incredible and compassionate man. Simply put, he made me proud to be a Canadian. He embodied what I love most about this country. He gave me Hope that a politician can be elected for the right reasons.

His absence is still felt. Weeks after his death, chalk messages and memorials and flowers and gifts still adorn the plaza of the Toronto City Hall. We won't see something like this in a long, long time.

It's been a number of weeks, and I still get a bit choked up about this. It was amazing for me, as a young guy still coming to terms with my comfort as a gay man, to find myself dancing and talking and sharing experiences with a legitimate party leader, and candidate for Prime Minister of Canada. It made me feel like I was worth something.

Thanks Jack.

Carrying Self-Hatred into Adulthood

You know, it's one thing when this sort of nonsense is being spouted by the younger gay guys who are still struggling with finding themselves in a homophobic, misogynistic patriarchal world that worships all things White!, Straight!, Male! and (for lack of better word) 'Typical."

I can *understand* it in the younger people. But to be passing off this same bullshit as one is approaching 40? REALLY? That's just sad. He's not talking about specifics, either. It's utterly amorphous concepts. Truly, think about it - he's not saying he doesn't watch "Glee" (heck I don't watch it either, but I don't make a point on Grindr or gay-social sites of saying I DON'TWATCH GLEE!), he's saying that he isn't into guys who LOOK LIKE they watch "Glee". He has an idea of what a person who watches Glee looks like, and acts like, and he's scared of that. One more grown-ass man who's still living in fear of the things his asshole father considered "Gay Stereotypes" - baseless, ignorant stupidity.

So....Oh, boo-hoo hoo. I got called a faggot by a gay man who thinks he can pass for straight (in a tank top and army shorts on a patio? gurrrrl, that's like Official Homo Summer Wear!). Oh no. I'm crushed. The reality is this - this guy calling me a faggot will not make his own life better. In fact it will continue to make his own life worse. He only finds security in being gay by making sure he's not seen as "one of those faggots." Until you as a gay man can stand on your own two feet as a gay man, without downplaying, compartmentalizing, editing, censoring or "distancing" yourself from other gay men, you will never ever EVER find happiness, joy and authenticity in life.

Who was this guy? Quite likely the guy that joined in making fun of the "school faggot" as a child.  I'm sure a lot of us have met those guys later in life.  We remember them, they made fun of gays, laughed at fags, didn't get targeted themselves of course.  And then years later we see them at Woody's one night.  You join the throngs of haters in hating "them" in hopes the haters won't laser in on you.

The good news is that a lot of young gay people are learning this at a younger age. They're getting over these issues before they reach their midtwenties, or even actual adulthood. Alas, there are the throwbacks - the guys that never got over it. Good luck in life to any of you who think you will find happiness as a gay man, entering into gay relationships, when you're still being "proud" of your supposed ability to pass for something that you're not.

And here's the kicker - you're actually not fooling anyone. You may think that people can't 'tell' that you're gay, or don't know - you're wrong. They can tell. They know. And they also all know how insecure you are about it. That's why they never bring it up. Sure, they've askedgeneral questions, expecting you to mention a boyfriend, or some indicator that YES, you are in fact gay. And then they notice how you avoid it. No straight people are vague about their heterosexuality - only insecure homosexuals try to pull off that shit and pretend it isn't glaringly obvious.

S0 YES, they notice. Yes, they know. Yes, they can tell. And so they can also tell that you're a doormat - an insecure boy posing as a man. It's just terribly weak.
Nobody has bluntly asked "are you gay", because:

1. nobody asks that question because in a still-bigoted culture it's considered "rude" and "too personal" to ask such a question.

2. they can tell and they can tell how insecure you are about it and how you avoid it, so they therefore don't bother to bring up something that you clearly have such ridiculous baggage about.

Nearly 40 and still taking pride in (unsuccessfully) passing yourself for something you're not? I can't think of anything less *manly* - that's being an insecure little boy.

This is not about masculinity, nor even perceptions of it.  It's the sheer simple fact that no masculine, confident, secure gay man would say the things this man has said.  This is what self-hatred looks like. And that's not masculine.

*edit. I was recently mailed this new pic of the same dunce. Love the new words. What a big man he is, eh? ;-)

352.6 Miles or 567.454694 kilometers (as we say in Canada)

I didn't do a 9/11 post, like everyone else on planet. I did, however, compete in yesterday's unofficial "Most Deep & Meaningful Facebook Status" competition. Not to make light of the September 11th attacks, nor the 10 year anniversary of them. I, like many others, do have "my 9/11 story" - my memories of that day, my memories of my feelings on that day, and the greater impact of knowing that we do indeed now live in a "Post-9/11" World. Yes. The world changed. As one in the arts, who was in the US that day (Boston, to be precise), who was unable to get home for a number of days, and as one who has lived in NYC and thus knows a great many people who lost a great many people on that day understand that I am not mocking the sentiments the day brings, nor am I pretending it doesn't hurt me either. It does. A lot. The fear, the loss, the emotional pull to those you want to have close to you but for whatever reason cannot. I get it. I feel it. I honour it. In the grand scheme of things I did indeed "learn something" out of the emotional maelstrom (I've always wanted an excuse to use that word!) of conflicting emotion and fear that 9/11 was and in many ways still is. Live for Now. Honour Every Moment. Love instead of Hate. Find grace instead of anger, forgiveness instead of vengeance. Make each moment count because it might be your last.

True sentiments, to be sure, no matter how Hallmark Cardtm they may seem. But that's not all I learned. It wasn't all kumbaya.

Yesterday I just made the choice to stop looking back. Here's what I've learned 10 years later.... I have been given a gift to still be here - ten years later. I honour it by looking forward. I was a 19 year old twink when it happened. Heck, I'd only graduated highschool a few months earlier! And where I was in my life was not a positive place. It was a life of hurt. I'd just Come Out, I was full of self-doubt and insecurity and out of my teenage desperation for validation I was (at the time) dating a guy who in truth certainly didn't like me very much, let alone love me, and yet we insisted on inflicting pain on each other for way too long because, hey, that's what stupid young dudes do. Two incompatible Kids playing Grown-Up.

It's a pattern I repeated in many relationships in my life. All kinds of relationships. Kristin Wiig's character in "Bridesmaids"?? Hi, Me! For real. Seeing that was like "Ouch, me."

But I'm not that anymore. I won't kneel (unless you make it worth my while, *wink wink*) and I won't allow myself to be mistreated by people and (mis)used by them as a tool to repair their own deflating egos or angers.

In all areas of my life I let people use me. My acting teachers pointing it out - I "apologize" with my pelvis when I stand - the pelvic tilt; subconsciously physically submitting to people, letting them control me. Friends who kept me around because they liked having a "sidekick", not an Equal. Work - employers and fellow employees who treated me like shit because I let them. Relationships - boys who liked how I made them feel about themselves; desired, sexy, powerful, in control. Sex. They didn't like me, they liked being a King.

The years spent allowing myself to let other people use me for their own intentions. I have let myself submit to people, and I have allowed them to use me. It was my doing. A codependency I clearly sought out. It's self-punishment.

Not the most expected lesson to be gleaned from the 10th anniversary of the September 11th attacks, yet I can't deny that that's what I was feeling. That's where my mind is today - and that's where I was 10 years ago.

It's been ten years. From 19 to 29. Nineteen - The kid who let himself be used by anyone and everyone in the hopes that one day they might be 'nice' and thus make me feel like I was finally worth something. The kid who would go running back to a 'boyfriend' that not only didn't love me but didn't even actually *like* me, because we clearly were more scared of being alone than of being unhappy with each other. Being terrified of sex at the same time as thinking of little else. (hi, I was a teen). I mistook a case Stockholm Syndrome for Love with the first dude I was ever with (that's sorta canon for all of us, right?) and that was a fun beginning to my association of sex and my sense of self-worth. I was involved in a "secret sexual relationship" with a guy, at age 18. I asked him why we couldn't date publicly and was flatly told "We can't...everyone will laugh at me." That's my first experience being with a guy - being told, straight up, that we can only be together in secret because people will laugh at him if they find out he's seeing me. And I believed it. And I carried that for years, and didn't even realize it. People didn't want me, not the "me" that existed in public. Young enough, insecure enough, and in truth SAD enough to want something to be something it utterly was not, nor really should have been. You hold onto pain and pretend it's love because at least it's something.

I know that you can't love anyone else, and nobody else can truly love you, if you don't love yourself. It's the main thesis of every self-help book ever. There. I just saved you buying one and reading it. That's the message. Most importantly, at this junction in my life, is the acceptance that some cycles will repeat until you put your foot down and demand that they end. Things "keep happening to you" because you let them. People "hurt you again" because you allowed them to. You can't care too much if they don't care as much. Just accept it and step back as well. It's cool. I'm 29 now. Homey gon' play dat.

It's amazing what you learn in a decade. In a post-9/11 world where countries and cultures still wrestle with racism, bigotry, religious fervor and phobias, lies and wars and fights. Truth in art and lies in politics. Forging friendships with people who (finally!) speak the same instinctual language. Friendships, even seemingly "trivial" ones, that are incredibly meaningful, and caring no matter how brief your time together. The person whom you can call up a few times a year on the phone, and rather than any sort of guilty "I know we haven't talked in a while" energy you both just pick up right where you left off. You get it. We have our own lives in different places and spheres of social existence. But we still care. We reach out to each other and respond to each other. Sometimes you reach out to someone, and the response takes a while. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe months. No ill will, just not priority. Sometimes the response never comes. Sometimes we deserve it. Lord knows I've earned it. You try again, and then again. No response. And then you feel like an idiot, an asshole, an annoyance and a failure. Gut kicked, you then realize that you do this, too. It's not "bad", really. Not even negative. At least not always. You just don't care. That's really it. "You'll get back to them." They keep reaching out, and you (for whatever reason) just go "uh...meh....uh.." because you just don't care. And you're allowed not to. And you may get back to them, and you may not. In life there are many types of relationships in which you care about someone more than they care about you. And we all do it, and we've all had it done to us. Friends. Lovers. Partners. Acquaintances even. Energies change, energies shift. Sometimes one feels it, sometimes you both feel it. Most times, though, one person feels it more than the other. So they step back. I've stepped back. I've been stepped away from. We don't all run in sync forever. And that's ok.

Like that Tori Amos lyric, "Girls, you've got to know when it's time to turn the page, or when you're only wet because of all the rain." *Yeah, I was that boy in high school with his Tori Amos obsession. Blame her for all of this.* I apologize to everyone I clung to too hard. I apologize to anyone and everyone I've pushed away. I also forgive everyone who hurt me. Yeah. I forgive you for everything that you will never apologize for, or even admit to. Those that used me know that they used me. And I'm saying that I know that you know. And you won't apologize. I forgive you anyway. I'm just ending a pattern in my life that's only ever hurt me. Its hurts badly, eh? But it's ok, because we all go through it. And we all mend. Standing there, on two feet. Like little Rory Calhouns.

And then, at age 29, a kiss that changed my life and made me know that it's all worth it. That someone can actually like me because they actually like me, not just that they like the way I make them feel about themselves. And it happens with different people, and it's almost magical. The moment your energies just go *ZZZING!* and you snap into each others orbits. I think of my incredible flatmates in London whom I love so dearly. Did you notice I said that sorta British-y? My love for my best friend in the entire world, Ryan, who for ten years has allowed me to grow and stumble (but never so hard that I can't get up) and accepts my weirdness and calls me on my shit because he loves me. And I love him. The people you share your life with whom you connect on an instinctual level. I don't know how else to describe it without sounding like a hippie.

And that kiss. Oh, that kiss.

No matter how far away we are, or whatever crazy turns the universe throws at us, nothing will ever change the truth and purity of it.

So there.

Anti-Gay Rabbi Believes God is an Anti-Semite?

WHOOOOO-boy. Well, someone appears to be a big old idiot. This is, of course, utter bollocks. This man is, of course, not in any way a voice for the Jewish community. He's a far-right ultra-Orthodox Jewish Rabbi in NYC who might as well be their version of Fred Phelps. He's not taken seriously by Jews, nor by any other human beings with functioning brains.

Still, his anti-gay prejudice is so intense that he literally is now saying that God didn't mind that the Holocaust happened, or that slavery happened, or racial segregation, or any of the wars around the world. God doesn't mind any of those things, apparently God only cares that gay couples are marrying.

Because that makes sense. This guy is hilarious - it's as if Harvey Fierstein and Woody Allen collaborated to bring a ridiculous character to life. Like an ultra-Orthodox Jewish version of Kane from "Poltergeist II: The Other Side."

And note the sibilant S sounds he hisses out. Yeah, Mary. Exactly. He's one of "those".

Typical.

That's Just Racism

Oh, look. Another gay racist. *barfs all over his own cock*

I don't even know where to begin with how ugly this is. Now, I'm going to ignore the put-to-rest body fascist that lived inside me once upon a time, because as I've lived and learned I've grown to appreciate and see beauty in all shapes and sizes. It's not what you have, it's how you are about it, how you carry yourself.

But LORD is it hard, as bitch makes it way too easy with his food analogies. With all those dietary restrictions one can only wonder what he IS eating and exactly how much? Does this look like a man who has ever turned down food? What *does* he like? White bread sandwiches with lots of ham and mayo?

Ok, enough. I don't like body-facism, but I also don't like racism and this dude just made it too easy.

Ugh.

Childhood Toys

Going through old storage boxes in my parent's basement, I found some old toys from my childhood that had yet to be given away to needy children.

Aside from the still-working E.T. Furbie making me shit my pants when it started talking me in the darkness of the basement, it was an oddly fun and emotional experience to once again hold these toys, then pack them up to be given to charities.

We all, as children, anthropomorphize our toys. We project an assumption that they care about us as much as we care about them. I guess another factor for me, and I assume many, is that these inanimate objects were often our substitute for real friends. I was the local fag by age 7. I lost myself in fantasy at home with my toys. I was frankly a little bit stunned at the sizable lump in my throat as I saw these toys again and held them for one last time. Total TOY STORY 3 moments. I actually hurt - like I was saying goodbye to a friend and savior. In a way, I suppose I was.

When It All Goes Wrong?

Did you ever have one of those days where every single thing went wrong? Let me rephrase that - did you ever see someone and realize that every single thing they did went wrong? Nothing worked. Nothing. To the point where it's almost amazing how not one thing went right? Their checklist for "Things Gone Wrong", for one day, gets entirely filled in one fell swoop? Yeah. Just one of those days.

I once overheard some lady talking about how she never second-guesses anything about herself - she just makes a decision and goes for it and doesn't give it a second thought.

I thought to myself, "Wow, that's a risky way to live"

Things like this are utterly preventable.

ROCKIT

My buddy from Brooklyn. Sexbomb extraordinaire. Woof-tastic Pup of Radness. Oh, how I love him.

And dude can W E R K!

Enjoy. ;-)

(not safe for work. unless you work in a bitchin' rad-ass sex factory)

Bert & Ernie, "Roommates"?

Now, personally, I have no vested interest in Bert & Ernie Coming Out, as to me they were always best friends who lived together. Now, could they be gay? Yes. Does that mean they're a romantic couple? No. Could one be gay and one be straight? Yes. Could they both be straight? Yes. It's possible, if improbable. ;-) hehehe.

That said, Sesame Street will eventually have an LGBT character. It just will. The show premiered in 1969...America still struggling to deal with racial integration and on comes a TV show set in New York City where people of all walks of life and ethnicity and cultural background are living in harmony together. With Muppets. Check out the earliest seasons - the racial-integration angle is worked hard and it needed to be - this country was split apart by racial tensions and prejudice. Sesame Street showed young children a world where colour was not a divide - cultures were celebrated, differences emrbaced, friendship and understanding giving premium. All good things.

The South African version even has Kami, a Muppet with HIV. North Americans may balk at that but the reality of South Africa's HIV rates in their population show how necessary a character like Kami is to children who are indeed growing up in an HIV-positive world.

LGBT people are a part of culture. Children watching Sesame Street have always had gay family members, most just didn't know it. Many young people (ahem, MOI) who watched the show were/are gay.

It may not be Bert & Ernie, but one day LGBT people will be represented on Sesame Street. And I have a feeling we'll be welcomed warmly.

How Not To Hit On Me

Grindr. Say what you will about it, it's here and it's being used. A lot. Whether it's for people who want "Oral Sex with GPS" or a quick and easy way to find 420-friendly queer dudes to kick back and watch art-films with (don't laugh, it's used for that more than you know) the reality is that Grindr is useful, useless, hilarious and sad in equal measure. You get very little room to "say" things, and it's amazing how people (mis)use the limited characters they have.

A guy will say "muscular" to describe himself. Yes, well, we can see from your picture that you're muscular, so that's a waste of text-space now isn't it? That said, his choosing to waste text space by stating the obvious is actually a terrific indicator that he's a Moron Seeking Other Morons. Duly noted, and thank you for the heads-up.

Now while it's hard to "get a feel" for a person on an app with such 'limited' profile space, the reality is that what is said, what is not said, and the specific way in which things are or are not said still manages to actually give you a pretty darn good idea of who you're chatting with.

Shown here. All was going well, nice friendly flirty chat, nothing overtly sexual either. Friendly, like I said. And then I was asked "Hey, are you Masc?"

Here's what happened next - My text in YELLOW his text in BLUE

*

*Now, we all know "Nor Ono" is Grindr-autocorrect-speak for "Not Into" hehehe!

Then I was sent four text messages informing me that I have "mental issues" and that I'm "really judgmental."

Now, let's stop for a moment to address that. HE is allowed to "pre-judge" all "fems" or "blacks" and not want to meet them, but I'M not allowed to not want to meet someone who prejudges "blacks" and "fems"? He's allowed to not be into blacks and fems but I'm not allowed to be into a guy who's not into blacks and fems? Heaven forbid we be so quick to snap to a judgement based on someone's being so quick to snap to a judgement based on someone's ethnicity. My mind just turned inside out.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I present the approach to logic of a douche-nozzle who will spend his entire life wondering why his experience is so mediocre.

Love, Little Kiwi

*elegant curtsy*

Pitbulls Are Lovely

After 8 months since visiting my Canadian homeland, I have returned. And the lovely wee lady shows how happy she is to see me.

:-)

Hissey Fit

The bittersweet irony of Miss Matt Hissey *le sighhhhh*

He hates "stereotypical gays" yet he himself is a number of gay stereotypes.

*ahem*

1. the "Stereotypical Gay Dude Who Can't Stop Talking About How Not-a-Stereotype He Is"
2. the "Stereotypical Deluded Gay Guy Who Doesn't Realize That He Actually Embodies Exactly What People Think of When They Think 'Gay Stereotype'"
3. the "Stereotypical Gay Republican Who Thinks Hating Liberals Will Earn Back His Daddy's Love"

4. the "Stereotypical White Moneyed Right-Wing Gay Man Who Hates Liberals Because His Parents Hate Liberals"

it's like INCEPTION, it just works on so many levels. Truly, the mind boggles. It's the INCEPTION of gay stereotype discussions.

Now, we get people in and out of the community who constantly talk about how "it's pressure from the gay agenda" that makes people "act like gay stereotypes."

Uh....then why is this right-wing anti-gay little asswipe the absolute embodiment of quite a number of "gay stereotypes"?

I thought they were the social construct of the 'gay community' that this man, and the other wimps of GOProud, utter loathes...no?

How can a lifetime spent avoiding "stereotypical gays" in the 'gay community' result in this kid being the stereotype he is today?

So why does he embody those gay stereotypes, then? If he's avoided them all his life, then why does he embody so many?

This wuss might very prove that being gay, and having many perceived "stereotypically gay traits" is in fact biological.

GOProud, My Ass

my first trip to Fire Island

*sighhhhh*

Highly-emotional trip I had. I've been reading about Fire Island since my late teens. And I realized, when I finally made my pilgrimage there this summer, that I'd never truly allowed myself to think about "what it will be like when I finally visit it"; I'd never allowed myself to think that one day I'd get there. Well, I made it. For once, I'm struggling to find the words to describe it. Ethan Mordden was right - it's magical.

There are many stories about my trip to tell, and even more to share only between the closest of friends. For now, a glimpse of what I was seeing and feeling.

More Squishy Babies

Little Kiwi getting knocked over by a squishy bulldog. Lovesit.

The Invasion - Fire Island

Drag queens have always been an integral part of the bohemian Cherry Grove bar & club scene, but frowned upon and practically forbidden in the more affluent and conservative Fire Island Pines of the 70s. According to legend, in 1976 a Cherry Grove man in drag (Teri Warren) was denied service at the Botel, a Pines restaurant & bar owned by John B. Whyte.

Upon hearing about this blatant discrimination against one of her sisters, the newly crowned Homecoming Queen of the Arts Project Cherry Grove, PANZI (Thom Hansen) took it upon herself to lead a small group of 9 brave Cherry Grove girls in a water taxi into the Pines harbor one hot afternoon for what they expected to be a confrontational welcoming by the Pines men.

On the contrary, the Pines men were so surprised and entertained by this “Drag Queen Invasion” in the middle of the day that they welcomed them all to drinks at the Blue Whale bar for what now is a yearly celebration and tradition.

NYC Pride 2011

Well, folks, it was one for the ages. This may have been the most joyous Pride celebration that New York City has experienced in a great many years. The reason, of course, was the vote days earlier on legalizing Marriage Equality in New York State. The "tone" of Pride was utterly hinging on the outcome of that vote; would we have a fight in our hearts or a cause to celebrate? Well, of course, we won. I marched in the parade with PFLAG NYC, and a number of friends who were all experiencing there very first Pride. It was absolutely thrilling. The love in the air, the bond of Family and Community - there are no words to describe the overwhelming joy of the celebration.

Hugs and Love to you all.

Marriage Equality Comes to New York

Thank you to all who voted in favour of Equality, and all who worked hard to get the message of Equality out into the universe. We won.

Lessons From My Father

WEINERGATE! Aka, Lamest "Sex-Scandal" Ever

When violence breaks out at a sporting event, the cameras rush in to capture all the action.
When a tit broke out at the Superbowl years ago, the FCC got their muthafuckin' FINE on.

There were riots last night in Vancouver, because the canucks lost a fucking hockey game. riots. cars set on fire and exploded. because team lost a HOCKEY GAME.

and yet...people freak out about Gay Pride? "Oh..the stereotypes of pride..there's gonna be A DRAG QUEEN! ...there's gonna be GUYS IN SPEEDOS!...or BOOBS! or BARE BUMS!"

yeah. know what there's not gonna be? carbombings and rioting.
those are 'straight male stereotypes' that are actually harmful that we're, blessedly, free from.

again, the anger and morality of "sex issues" and not "violence" ones.
every city that hosts the Superbowl sees a spike in not just drug and sex trafficking, but specifically CHILD sex trafficking.

it's all-too-common for violence and vandalism to erupt after a sports team loses a "big game"; i used to live in the UK - the 'soccer hooligans' thing is legit.

it's a more than common occurrence, to the point that it's almost expected and more police are deployed to areas where the games are being held in ADVANCE.

if gay pride events had the histories of violence that many big sports games have then i'd understand a backlack against them.
as is, people seem less concerned about violent reactions to sport losses and more concerned with dudes showing their bums.

and bums, like sexy jewish penises, pose no actual threat of harm to society.

Now, the reality is that straight men have a more violent image than gay men do and yet gay men are the ones demonized by society.

The Best Way to Put Someone in Their Place

Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is how to put someone in their place. I give three snaps in a Z-formation, like a drag queen from 1994.

Phoebe Cates Made Me Gay

Oh, my childhood love for Phoebe Cates, which I've never outgrown. From the skin-baring tawdriness of "Paradise" (if you're gonna rip off a film, why rip off a film as lousy as "The Blue Lagoon"?), and "Private School", to the 80s classics that are Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Gremlins. The typical 80s-curios that are Lace and Lace II ("Incidentally, which one of you bitches is my mother?"), Date With An Angel, and then her all-too-fleeting but actually wonderful work in the 1990s. Drop Dead Fred? It's a cult film my generation has embraced. Princess Caraboo? One of the sweetest of the 90s-era of lavishly-mounted period romps. And then "The Anniversary Party", where her ecstasy-fueled breakdown about motherhood stops the show.

I LOVE HER. And I always have. And I always will.

Feeling Sigourney

Yeah. That's right. I'm channelling my inner Ellen Ripley. I kinda love it, actually. Sure beats having to, you know, do my hair. Look at me, I'm a daddy now!

A Tree of Life Grows in Brooklyn?

First, thanks to my good friend Sally for that title! ;-)

Second, I actually loved the film. Cannot wait to see it again a few more times. It stands as a singular experience, the most Malick-y film ever made. This is Malick's skill as a director - his choice to share an experience and tell a story without the expected trappings of conventional narrative, structure, exposition and linear storytelling. In a way, it's sort of like a mega-budget feature-length "thesis project" of a film. Those experimental short films where the filmmaker "tells a story" in a non-traditional way. Well, he's the long-ass version. I hear similar criticisms from people about films like this, or films by David Lynch - "it didn't make any sense, I didn't know what it was trying to say."

Uh...ok. I can list a couple hundred films that "made sense" and that were clear in "what they were trying to say" that still totally and utterly sucked donkey balls and were failures. It's abstract art, folks!

It's an emotional story, told through the memories of a child and a grander sense of life on Earth that keeps reminding the viewer that all this complexity and the questions of life were and are the ongoing evolutionary process of single-cell organisms.

The use of music in the film is as flawless as always. The photography absolutely stunning in its clarity and composition. The performances so real and unforced that it just feels as if an invisible camera just happened to catch the action.

The heartbreaking simplicity of small insightful moments; a gesture of love when one young boy puts his hand on the shoulder of another, who lost his home and received burn scars from a house fire. The guilt and intense shame of adolescent hormones rushing through a young man's mind. The need to destroy and exert power over others coupled with a clashing message of love and understanding and empathy.

There are moments in this film that will haunt me forever. For those who just didn't like it...well...I made this video for you.