My Gay Day

What I'm about to say is going to shock you. This year I went to my first Pride celebration. I know, I'm a bad fag. I have always had the intention of going, and I've even made it as far as the brunch before the parade. I just don't do well with loss of personal space. I get anxious. I get drown-y feeling. Sometimes, if a club or venue is too full, I will go home. I have missed some of my favorite performers because of this quirk.
My motto, in general, is "Small Venue, Week Night" which may also double as the title for my memoir. Anyway, the pictures of the masses that I have seen from most parades is the driving factor keeping me away from flaunting my gay-uality on a sunny summer day.
Seattle Pride this year, however, was going to be different. The parade route would no longer traverse the gayborhood, but it would now snake from tourist-heavy Westlake Center and end in tourist-center Seattle Center.
Ahhhh, that's the sound of me breathing easily. I didn't make it to the parade, but I was at Seattle Center welcoming the paraders and joining in the revelry. I have been at Seattle Center when there were too many people for my liking, but the number there today was completely fine for me.

I am glad that my own little foible did not prevent me from joining the festivities this year.

I took a total of 5 pictures. Two of which are total crap. One of which is posted above. Here are the other two:


Hey look, everyone! Its Steve 1 at the PFLAG tent. PFLAG is A-OK with Steve 1!


























And this chick in the beer garden was my Person of the Day cuz I absolutely loved her shirt.

C is for Crunk, indeed.

So, I'm a little torn because I just read Gay Prof's post about Pride and I would like to respond to that a little more (see his comment section for my initial reaction), but there was so much anecdotal stuff happening--namely Steve 1 almost coming to blows with a homeless guy on the bus ride home--that I feel that should be chronicled.

So, I guess I'll just say this--

Pride isn't a third of what it could be, but what it is, is pretty good.

Jerri Blank on Dave

My girl's on Dave tonight. Yes, I'll be at work. Yes, the VCR will be running.

In case you missed it:

Thanks for the link, Bill!

My deceptive weekend

Matt, Steve 2, and I headed to Whidbey Island this weekend with the intention of taking a ferry to Orcas Island. We made it to the ferry at AnaCortes, but it was pretty late so we decided not to risk a trip out to the island--we could have been stuck.

On our way there, we stopped at Deception Pass State Park and Washington Park. Below are pics. Enjoy!

The nights we had until the morning

I made it to the gym Monday morning and completed a majority of my official "Monday Workout." In fact, I pushed a little bit harder than I normally would. Monday sets the tone for the week, and I knew I would wake up sore on Tuesday morning (which is technically Monday night for those who follow my erratic schedule). While I was on my fourth time through the circuit, before I headed back up to the elliptical for another 20 minutes, I had already resigned to take Tuesday off. I allow myself one day of no gym during the work week. I would use Tuesday to try and tackle a full 8 hours of sleep and to break in that new bottle of Tylenol PM--for I would be dearly sore.

Work Tuesday morning was pretty tedious and the short bus ride home was a nap waiting to happen. As is almost always the case, I put my headphones on and drifted off before we even hit the end of the Ride Free Zone. At 65th Ave. I awoke, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and gazed upon the most gorgeous of men seated at the front the bus.

He was younger than me, but his beard was much fuller. He had a camo hat on and wore a look of youthful defiance. Our eyes briefly connected and I'm pretty sure I saw it there--the gay, stuck in his irises. It recognized me and, for a fleeting moment, our imaginary life together flashed before my eyes. This ebullience was quickly countered by the realization that he is not a regular on the bus, and that our brief imaginary life together might be all I ever have.

Strangely, he debussed at the same stop as me. Even strangelier, he walked directly behind me for three whole blocks. Our brief imaginary affair had now extended from 10 minutes on the bus to a 10 minute walk.

I dared one last glance, but like Orpheus, my Eurydice was sliding back into the underworld--or at least south on 17th. So I let out a heavy sigh and replaced it with a set jaw. Determination was now my name.

Never let another moment pass you by, I told myself. Carpe carp, I told myself. Seize the fish, dammit, Jeremy! Its ok if he stabs you when you ask him out, I justified, Any human contact is better than none.

So yesterday I skipped the gym, as well. He was on the bus again, but his eyes never quite made contact with mine. He also got off the bus sooner than me and made the crosswalk. I had to watch opportunity walk away (gardening gloves tucked into his back right pocket), and I had my courage--brain and heart were somewhere else entirely, but I had my courage.

Today, I will skip the gym again. I will get on the bus, put on my headphones and fall asleep. Hopefully I'll awaken to the vision of Adonis, and hopefully I'll still have my courage.

OKDJ plays out

I would tell you to mark your calendars, but its a private gig. Finally, my toiling has recieved the recognition it so deeply deserves. Maybe it was the trainwreck heavy OKDJ vol. 2 with random tracks thrown in to lengthen the mix that sealed the deal. Maybe it is the obvious depth of my crates. Maybe its the fact that the hostess considers me her "other son."

I've spoken about the surrogates before, and now I am happy to say that Risa's mom, Lynnie, and her live-in lover, Joyce, are doing the unthinkable in this political climate and this day-and-age by celebrating their love for one another in the form of a commitment ceremony. They have generously included me in the celebration by asking me to DJ.

I can't think of a more apropos way for me to be involved. Now its time to start stacking the MP3s and gettin' all those jams ready.

It is now that I ask for your assistance, gentle reader, in that you offer your own suggestions for invigorating this sapphic affair. Age range of the betrothed is late 40's to early 50's.

Here are my (so far) essential selections:

Celebration - Kool and the Gang

The Chicken Dance

Amazons - Phranc

He's the Greatest Dancer - Sister Sledge

Matchmaker - Fiddler on the Roof

You Light Up My Life - Debby Boone

I Just Fall In Love Again - Anne Muray

You Needed Me - Anne Murray

Nobody - Sylvia

So, a Jew's commiting to a Canadian--that explains the Anne Murray and Fiddler--if you have any recommendations in those specific areas, bonus points!!!

If only I can figure out a way to segue into something off of Plug Research or Get Physical or Trapez or M_nus.

The big day is Sept. 9th and should be tons o' fun. I promise that I will compile the choons I use on the day of and do a special edition of OKDJ--just for all you fans out there.

Now onto the unimportant news.

First off, HOLY SHIT!!!

Ok, Superman Returns, blah blah blah.

You know the main reason I'm going to see SR is for one Ms. Posey who, according to this here article is going to be in a film called Spring Breakdown with Amy-Freaking-Poehler and Rachel-Freaking-Dratch. I think the entire gay population just peed their pants--I know I did (again).

So, since I did some more poking around, natch, and here's what else I've found out:

Written and directed by a homo named Ryan Shiraki.

Amber Tamblyn also in the cast.

Here's what Coming Soon has to say:

The story revolves around three thirtysomething friends who break the monotony of their uninspired lives by vacationing on an island that is a popular spring break getaway for college co-eds. One of the women works for a powerful senator whose daughter is one of those co-eds, only she's as geeky as her chaperones.

Who cares what its about really--its going to pretty much rule.

Uh . . . what else . . .

Did I say that I saw X3? I did. It totally ripped from Whedon's Astonishing title by offering up a mutant cure. They kind of mashed it up with the Mutant Massacre which was ok. Can I just say that the movie looked like shit? It was too well-lit. The composition of the shots did not exist in a comic sense--which is strange since every shot is storyboarded. And also, sound design--and the title sequence. And the dialogue. Ugh. It was painful, but I still have a soft spot for those wacky mutants.

In fact, I'm really stoked for Whedon's big finale with the Astonishing X-Men--Jon Quesada says that it will "redefine or define Kitty Pryde for many fans."

And since I'm talking about the Whedonverse--Jane Espenson is writing an episode of Battlestar Galactica. That's some pretty swell news. [article]

And since we're talking about the greatest show currently on TV, producer David Eick answers some questions about Season 3. [here]

And, BSG might finally jump the shark with a spinoff show called Caprica.

Ok, guess that's it.

Hope your Monday is treating you well!!!

For real (world)?

Y'all remember Jacinda from The Real World London?
Why didn't I know that she was act-inating now?
She can currently be seen (at the dollar movies) in Poseidon--and she's gonna be in Zach Braff and (total hack) Paul Haggis' new venture "One Last Kiss" which actually might not suck because it is based on someone else's work. But probably will suck because both of them have a penchant for schmaltz.
Anyway, there's a teaser trailer on Zach's site (above link).
The song chosen makes me want to puke into my underwear.
At least he didn't mine Ivy's "One More Last Kiss," that would have made me cry.

Oh, and cuz its Friday and you should laugh a little today, please take the time to watch the lovely Ms. O'Donnell in a fine performace:

On an outing

When I was an adolescent, I left clues to my burgeoning sexual identity everywhere. Issues of Genre in my stack of magazines that included GQ and Details (gay stacked on gay, with gay in the middle). My copy of William Burroughs' The Wild Boys next to my bed had its spine broken from holding it open to the most lascivious of passages while masturbating. Like any other teenage boy, I thought about sex a lot. Unlike most other teenage boys, my thoughts of sex were with other boys.
This was a time before "the internet." Prodigy and AOL were actually competing companies. I had a lightning fast 4800 baud modem. BBSs were fairly pervasive. I would log onto them for their bulletins, to download games, and most importantly to find porn. Any kind of porn would do, really. Most of the porn I found was straight, but on occasion, I would happen on a cache of gay porn. I coveted those pictures.
With a few of the gay pictures, and a majority of straight pictures, I hatched a plan. At a sleepover at my friend's house, I would show him the pictures and when a gay one popped up, I would write it off--"Oh gosh, I hadn't looked at them, I just downloaded the directory." My friend, let's call him Jeff, would react one way or another and that would let me know how to proceed. I was 15 and I was a predator.
I caught my prey. Jeff and I had sex on and off again through high school. There was never any kissing--truthfully, I don't know if I even associated kissing with sex (or maybe I just thought of myself as Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman). I thought it was purely mechanical, but I was grateful that I had someone with whom I could experiment.

I needed more information, though. While practicing with Jeff was fun, it seemed as though some integral pieces were missing. I returned to the BBS for more pornography. This time, I wanted stories. Surely, there is greater understanding in pornographic words than in a pornographic picture. Oh, who am I kidding? I had downloaded all the pictures I could find and all that was left was stories.

Because sitting at the computer desk and reading porn and having a wank is much more difficult than lying in bed and going to town (just ask my copy of The Wild Boys), I wisely printed out the first story I found. It was unbelievably hot. A pilot and his co-pilot get it on at an airport hotel. I no longer had to read Penthouse Forum and imagine two men. I now had my very own, bona fide gay porn story.

I folded it up and squeezed it into a narrow slot between my headboard and my bed. It stayed there safely for many weeks, its folds becoming more worn with each use. Upon returning from school one day, I went up to my room to discover my mother sitting on my bed. In her hand was the story. It burnt my eyes and made my stomach fall to the floor.

She wanted to know how I got it. She wanted to know what it meant. My face was on fire. I imagined the text--talk of penetration and sloppy holes and rigid members and man-cunts. A tryst between his pilot and his co-pilot.

I guess this is the part of the story where I explain that my father is an airline pilot and my brother is a co-pilot.

Yeah, so, all of those stigmas of perversion and deviation that we so desperately try to evade were automatically associated with my sexuality. I just wanted a dirty story to read and, as a result, I got branded serial-rapist-pervert, or at least something similar in my mother's head.

Porn puts me to sleep

Keith recently queried in a comment as to which films at this year's Seattle International Film Festival I am stoked on seeing. Good question, Keith.

First let me praise SIFF. SIFF, you rule. You're the world's largest film festival. You curate an impressive program and frequently have broken some great artists and honored oft-overlooked films. You offer wonderful seminars ranging from financing to animation.

Ok. So you get the point? I love that my city offers a *month long* film festival.

So, that being said, nothing on the schedule this year jumps out at me.

The New Director's spread is pretty tame.

Of the archival films, only The Window and Black Orpheus interest me--both of which I have seen many, many times.

This past weekend, Bill, Derek, Cam & I hit Destricted. Matthew Barney's piece was pretty damn spot-on. Larry Clark's was pretty good, but all of it reeked of artifice. It was pretty hot, though, seeing engorged cocks spewing the goo in an audience of art film snobs. It was a midnight showing and I fell asleep during the last short. Whoops, my bad! (Oh, and by the way, when did Larry Clark become an artist?)

Anyway, I'm hoping that someone has had the perspicacity to have paid closer attention to this year's offerings and drag me along--or that someone is so agog of some film that their fanaticism transfers to me (or they force me at gun point to join).

So, I know many of you have sent me the films you are going to see this year. None of them (not even that Portastatic bonanza) ring my bell, but that doesn't mean I'm not down for some cinema. So give me a ring when you're heading out and maybe I'll join you, m'kay?

Oh, and for all you out-of-towners and people addicted to podcasts (*cough* Adam *cough*), you can keep abreast of festival goings-on through the SIFF Podcast. You can check out trailers for most of the films and more than a handful of shorts are offered.

So, onto other things.

Namely, OKDJ Vol. 5

Aww, yeah, y'all, shit be bumpin'.

So here's the breakdown:

1. Hustler - Simian Mobile Disco

2. Disco People - Mike Theodore Orchestra

3. Under the Carpet - Mike Shannon

4. Sunstroke - Trentemoller

5. Swimming Places (Pete Heller Mix) - Julian Jabre

6. (This is) The Dream of Evan and Chan (Superpitcher mix) - Dntel

7. Marabout - Bob Sinclair

8. Nurse Hurse (Invasion of the Body Jackers Remix) - Detroit Grand Pubahs

9. Yeah Yeah (Turbo House Mix) - Full Intention presents Bodyrox

10. Knartz IV (Abe Duque Mix) - EgoExpress

11. Music is Music - Betty Botox

12. Sometimes (Junior Sanchez Remix) - Les Rhythmes Digitales

13. Get Ready for Your Last Dance (Silvercity-Bob Remix) - Waldorf

14. My Friend Dario - Vitalic

15. Damage (Buick Project Mix) - Tiefschwarz feat. Tracey Thorn

Right now my goal in life is to purchase a nice new computer so I can actually run programs like Photoshop CS2, Acid, and Premiere. As it stands, I made this mix with Mixmeister Express (while at work, but don't tell anyone, m'kay?). Its not a great program, but its better than nothing.

I really like 1 into 2, 5 into 6 into 7. 10 into 11 blows. But you get the idea, right? The gist of it? I hope so. And just imagine how great my mixing will be once I get Acid.

So, now I'd like to point to some sites that were integral into making this mix--namely JOCKOHOMO who posts some great tracks (3 on this mix were on his site).

His site is great (love the design!!) and his taste is impeccable.

And, aww, look, he even gave me a shout out. Thanks, man!

The next site I'm directing you to is DiscoDelivery. This site is a godsend. The second track comes from it.

And, if you want to download a mix that does actually pay attention to the details, head over to FourFour for Rich's newest. I love it so much I can't even put it into words. Also, happy 1 year anniversary Rich!!!

Did I mention that I'm locked in the vault for 12.5 hours today. That's just fugged!

Take care, all!

Update:

So sometimes I get really geeked about the image collection down here in the vault. I'm about half way through my hellatious shift and a whole series of photos of Jean Marais just came across my desk. There's something amazingly sacred about cleaning images that people haven't seen for many, many years.

Oh, and since I'm on a tangential subject, what do you think about this:

as my first tattoo--on my shoulder, substitute a script, "Pas de Chance" for Jean Cocteau--I'm thinkin' for 30 and all.

Ok. That's it for now.
All comments appreciated.

Goodbye schadenfreude

Did you catch the Spelling Bee last night? Now that's reality television!

Anyway, the chick that lost, misspelled weltschmerz.
I would have, too.
Anyway, its my new favorite word.

Goodbye schadenfreude, hello weltschmerz.