Art police / rock and roll / creative chaos / anti-gay Milk protesters

Art Police is in the bag! Shambolic though the whole process was, and despite being flaked out on at the last moment by a certain someone who was supposed to be our camerawoman, we got it done in a three-day marathon filming session, starting Saturday morning. And I really haven’t had this much fun, this much of a creative high that is, in quite a long time. I will definitely be doing more film work in the future. It may turn out to be my metier, although I don’t think I’ll ever confine myself to one particular medium. The sort of artists I admire are the ones who can move effortlessly from one medium to another and express themselves in all of them. That’s the kind of artist I am, and I think that will only become more apparent with time. I was talking with a friend the other day who said that Chris Haberman is a true artist – a pretty common opinion here in our lovely little pond. Now, I’m certainly not going to talk any shit about Haberman. He’s a great guy, super nice, super committed to other artists as well as his own work, and certainly an artist. But I’m a different kind of artist from him. I don’t churn out 10 paintings a week, I don’t always have that manic energy every moment of the day. I go through ups and downs. But if you don’t think I’m an artist, then you don’t know me very well, or else you’re someone I probably don’t want to be friends with any more, if we’re really “friends” at all. The three-day shoot I just completed reminded me of the fact that the only time I’m really happy is when I’m up to my ears in a collaborative creative project. It’s the main passion of my life. I was making my own comic books and selling them to other people in my apartment complex when I was 12 years old. I started writing, drawing and building long before that. But collaboration is the direction I need to go in. It is all too easy to write or paint in solitude, that’s what comes most naturally to me, but there’s something very healthy and engaging and growth-oriented about the sort of project we just completed for this film – working with other people, mingling my ideas with theirs, adding new things as they arise and discarding others when we find they don’t work, and then the communal, shared pleasure of enjoying the fruits of our collective labors afterwards. It keeps me from veering too far into solipsism.

So, yeah, the film shoot. We made the egregious error of not looking at our footage as we were filming, so the second day we had to re-shoot about 50% of what we’d shot the first, but it was worth it, because the second time everything looked and sounded so much better.We got kicked out of the Hostess/Wonderbread Outlet Store parking lot (have you ever been in that store? it’s like depression in the form of food – but it seems to do a brisk business!) and got it on tape! Everywhere we went we attracted attention, and whenever we filmed in public (outside Emie’s salon by the Clinton Street Theater, the Food Mart on 21st and Division where the guy was nice and non-corporate enough to let us film outside his store) people watched from their cars, or came up and talked to us. People just love movies, and watching them be made is exciting for them. Justin and Emie’s friend Dan stuck with us through the whole shoot, alternating between camera and boom mic. Another one of Justin’s friends helped us out with camera during the gallery scene. At one point we corralled a couple little boys from the house next door to help with the boom mic after Dan had to go to work, and they were so excited about it, it was cute (production still above). On the second day Joel came over (at very short notice) and took over the photography, and sat in with us as we recorded a soundtrack in the basement, including an awesome little theme song that’s going to sound SO GOOD over the closing credits, that I did vocals on! (With help from Justin and Emie.) That was the first time I’ve recorded music in years, and it made me think I might want to take the stage at a rock show at some point. The way all this music arose so spontaneously was really inspiring. Then the third day we logged all the clips from both days of shooting in detail, which will help a lot with editing, which I have to do FAST, and alone, because Emie and Justin have to work, and our submission to Gold Coyote must be postmarked by this Sunday the 1st.

It’s funny how certain people who were prominent in your life for awhile recede into the background and others unexpectedly move into the foreground. Justin and Emie have really become two of my best friends in Portland since I got back from Glacier. We have a similarity of temperament that smoothes over all the occasional flare-ups and arguments. When it was the three of us and Dan it was a perfect mix: three bossy megalomaniacs and one mellow, calm person (Dan) who sort of glued us all together! And to think that all of them were doing it without any hope of being paid for all of our hard work (unless we actually DO win the prize, which is one in a thousand), simply for the natural high you get from completing a creative project, just like I do. They are like me, depressed when they’re not working on something. We also share certain self-destructive tendencies as well, but I have a hard time working with completely sober, straight-edge, vegan, PC, prim and proper people who don’t know how to party and get work done at the same time. There is something about chaos that fuels me creatively. Making order out of chaos. Creating beauty out of a big crazy mess. If it was never messy to begin with, it doesn’t interest me.

Also there is a certain jagged beauty to Emie and Justin’s relationship, which continues to fascinate me. They take turns being the belligerent one. They are cool people, without being hipsters. They weren’t nerds in high school. I like being around people who still embody the attitude of what I consider rock and roll, because I think that’s such a rare thing these days. As someone (I think it was Beej) pointed out, we live in an era when Coldplay (even the freaking JONAS BROTHERS?) are considered rock and roll. I may not record rock n roll – although I have in the past, and may again – but I have some rock bones in my body, all the same. I went and saw my friend Dylan’s metal band Cull play at Mississippi Pizza last Thursday (even sacrificed my favorite night of television for it). It was good stuff. The place was hot with body heat, full of lots of people who all smelled like animals. But hey, we are animals.

Cousin Anthony got to watch Sean Penn’s acceptance speech for the Best Actor Oscar at the Castro Theatre in San Fran! Imagine that excitement. Although he said there were PROTESTERS outside the theatre. What were they protesting? Good movies?

Sorry, anti-gay conservatives, but it’s the 21st Century now, and you lost. Put your bible down and get a life. LIVE AND LET LIVE. Just like Jesus would.

Academy Awards Winners Leaked! (Maybe)

IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW THE FINAL RESULTS of the 81st Annual Academy Awards until this Sunday, don't look at this image!

My friend Joel Earl just sent it to me. It appears to be a list of all the awards that will be given out on Oscar night this Sunday, signed by President Sid Ganis! Joel said he was given the document by a friend who broke into the Wilshire Boulevard offices of the Academy with a pen light and portable xerox device á la Wall Street.

Joel, however, admits he "cannot vouch much for its provenance" and acknowledges the possibility of it being a hoax.

We shall see, I suppose!

I haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire yet, I would have loved to see Milk win Best Picture, but I'll be happy as long as The Curious Case of Benjamin's Bullshit doesn't take the top honor.

anglophilia / "Bad News" / community media

Today I spent three more hours editing the footage Emie and I shot last month, and I have another session scheduled for tomorrow. I plan to have a rough cut finished by the end of that session, and have reserved a dub rack as well so I can burn a DVD copy of that rough cut to watch with Emie and Justin this weekend, during a break in filming "Art Police."

It started as a funny throwaway, a B-side to Art Police, and it's turned into a fairly intense trainwreck of a mini-movie. The working title was "Monsieur LeTigre Speaks" but I changed it to "Bad News" tonight. It could be a PSA for why people shouldn't abuse alcohol. But I kind of like its trainwreck intensity. I'm afraid when Emie sees it, though, she's going to want me to cut all of her parts out, because she's definitely not the charismatic person she can be when sober. But there's something very compelling, to me anyway, about completely raw footage of someone having a drunken meltdown on camera, and being just totally emotionally naked and vulnerable. I hope I can convince her to keep some of it in.

Most of it is not very flattering footage of me, either. I intended this film to be about self-doubt, conflict, contradiction, negativity, drunken retardation, the voices in your head that argue and cause you to engage in self-warfare. It ain't supposed to be pretty, and it sure as fuck ain't.

Then I helped "Alexandra Paris" with her studio production - speaking of trainwrecks! - and it had that "we're winging it" feeling as always, especially since her co-host never showed and didn't even call, so her Leprechaun-like little boyfriend (who I think must be bisexual at LEAST) stood in for the co-host, and actually did a pretty good job. Alexandra was working the Adams/Breedlove fiasco pretty hard, of course - apparently Beau is posing naked for Unzipped, a men's adult magazine. So he's doing the same thing the media are with the controversy: exploiting it for everything it's worth. At one point after she'd been reaming Breedlove for his shameless self-exploitation, a caller went on the air and hissed the words, "Horse shit!" and then hung up.

I couldn't help it, I blurted out: "IT'S BEAU BREEDLOVE!" in the midst of the live show.

That's what's fun about that show, though - you can do things like that and they just become part of the DIY anarchy of community media.

I hope they have a facility like this in San Francisco. I'm sure they do. Probably more than one. (Photo of the Portland Community Media Warhol-style "Staff Wall" above.)

Alexandra used her televisual platform to rebuke some rowdy (black) kids on the bus earlier that day who had been disrespecting other passengers on the bus, putting spitballs in their hair and such. I've witnessed some pretty depressing behavior on the number 6 bus myself, including a cracked-out lady and her giggling little brat of a child who attacked a gay guy sitting in front of her, calling him a faggot and blaming him for being responsible for AIDS and stuff. The guy held his ground pretty well, but I felt bad for him all the same, and got the hell off that bus at the first opportunity.

A side effect of my intense love for Ben Whishaw is that I'm becoming an anglophile. I may have to move to England in five years or so when I'm done with Maui and San Fran. But I've been talking with Anthony almost daily lately, and my excitement grows exponentially with each conversation. We are going to have so much fun. We really are two of a kind...and FAMILY, on top of that.

I have this interesting premonition that during my six months on Maui I'm going to actually be HAPPY, in the truest and deepest sense, for the first time since....I was a kid?

Or ever?

In love with Love

Last night bordered on magnificent. I’ll never think of Friday the 13th the same again. I arrived early for my volunteer shift at the Love Show, and got to take a spin through the whole building and see all the art before any of the public arrived. Then a magical night began. Amazing art everywhere I looked, great connections with people I hadn’t seen in a long time - Kaj-ann, Vicky, Bruce from the PCM class that certified me as a producer, Richard who literally GAVE me the coat off his back, Jules who made an amazing 3D piece for the show of two kissing suspended jointed figures (I’m going to her bday at the Florida Room Monday night), S.I.D. (the artist formerly known as Jona) who wants to buy a copy of my book, Kjerstin who said she liked the Art Police script enough to want to help us film next weekend, Haberman who is always very affectionate, Ben Pink himself (I really wanna grab that guy and say, “Dude, RELAX for a second,” but I know the mountain of responsibility he has makes that impossible). Just truly a fantastic night and the most fun I’ve had at a public event in as long as I can remember. I was in love with Love. And aside from shoring up old friendships I made a bunch of new friends, including a very friendly dark-haired skater boy who was, shall we say, NOT UNATTRACTIVE, and said he wished he could take me with him when he left to smoke a bowl! (But I was stationed at the front door making sure no one left the building carrying an alcohol receptacle.)

I discovered a precious young maiden who had climbed into the middle of one of the installations (photo above).

I did my double volunteer shift (Leigh greeted me in the volunteer lounge afterwards with “The best alcohol monitor ever!” and gave me a sip from her flask of whiskey), got my two drink tickets, but by that time the bar had run dry and I was pretty tired anyway, so I bailed, but not before giving Vicky a big hug, because she is certainly in the top 10 of people I care most about in Portland, and now she’s made the most amazing offer to take care of Lucy for me (despite already having four cats!) until such time as I have my own place in San Fran and can take her back! Plus she said, “I’m always looking for an excuse to visit San Francisco,” meaning she might even be able to bring her down to me when I’m ready to reclaim her! This is nothing less than a miracle for me. My excitement about the future and the great things awaiting me was alloyed by sadness at having to leave behind this girl with whom I have bonded so strongly over the past few years. She really is a little person with as much personality as a human being, and I don’t care if it makes me a crazy cat lady/dude or not, I love her, and the prospect of never seeing her again was hard to bear. And now, because of the friendship of someone who empathizes with and understands my bond with this animal, I don’t have to! Everything is coming together beautifully. I’m still going to make an attempt to find someone else with less pets already to take Lucy until I can have her again, since Vicky already has so many pets, and her husband is opposed to it, but it’s so good to know there’s an option in the background in case nothing else works out. I’m going to sleep easier, or happier, from now until I leave.

I figured out my taxes today in about 20 minutes (so far the 1040EZ form still takes care of me nice and simple), and the IRS owes me $210, except they’ll just take it and apply it to the money I still owe them from years ago, that one weird year where I somehow ended up owing them over $1000. (I still wonder if I figured that wrong and screwed myself over, but it’s too late now.)

Made my weekly call to mother tonight, after a lovely dinner of stuffed bell peppers, asparagus, broccoli, lemon bars and sparkling juice with Scott, Meghan, their dad, and Meghan’s friend Brian. Dear Mother is her ever-lovin’ loopy old self. “I’m getting into younger guys again,” she told me. “I think the Jonas brothers are really cute.” So we’ll both be watching SNL tonight: her for the Jonas brothers, and me for Alec Baldwin. I bought some brandy for hot toddies to celebrate the occasion.

Anthony said he coined the word “murse” for a man-purse and it made it all the way onto The View! He’s paranoid about people stealing his ideas so I won’t be blogging about our titles and ideas for the book until after it’s all ready for public consumption.

I had nothing in the planner today, but decided to make a lazy day productive by going to the media center and doing some editing on “Monsieur LeTigre Speaks,” the short film I shot with Emie a while back, the night we went to Slabtown for Sam’s birthday (or was it Audra’s?) To my surprise I found that we’d shot 45 mins. worth of footage, and some of it is quite hilarious! It’ll probably be about 10 mins. long when finished and I’m going to try to have it done for viewing by next weekend so we can watch it before filming Art Police, and hopefully I’ll be able to put it up on YouTube by then too.

A further rant on media's lack of ethics / Love Show / acting!

The local media is still gleefully gorging itself on the Sam Adams imbroglio that they created. It’s like when a hippo carcass washes ashore in Africa and the crocodiles have a time of plenty, feast upon feast. Our very own Bill Clinton scandal! Ain’t it grand? Who do you identify with? Most of the media obviously identify with Kenneth Star, but I identify more with Clinton/Adams. New revelations include Adams kissing Beau Breedlove in a bathroom at City Hall when Breedlove was only seventeen! (ABSOLUTELY IRRELEVANT! HAS NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO DO WITH THE MAN’S ABILITY AS MAYOR!) The funny thing is, with most people I hang out with, who are not part of the press corps or involved in city politics, this issue just doesn’t even come up. If it does at all, it’s only a response to how much it continues to be plastered all over every type of media in town (which is also the reason I blog about it! I’m on my way home from somewhere, pick up a paper, there’s WW at it again, it makes me mad, I have to write it out!) Many people just don’t care and see this for what it is: the media whipping up a controversy so it will have something to write and talk and be outraged about. Well, there are certainly SOME people who are eager to voice their opinion – the ones who demanded Adams resign immediately, the ones who are easy to stir into this knee-jerk reaction, the ones who are always happy to jump up on their high moral horse at a moment’s notice, THE ONES WHO VOTED FOR MEASURE 36! (You can say “It’s not about the sex!” all you want, but those ARE your allies in calling for Adams to resign!) Are you SURE you want to ally yourselves with those people? The media doesn’t care about ethics, it cares about having a story. And from the beginning, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve seen the whole thing as an interesting example of the lack of ethics in journalism and other media – even right here in supposedly liberal and enlightened Portland! – rather than of Mayor Adams. WHEN SOMEONE LIES TO PROTECT THEIR PRIVACY, IT’S DIFFERENT THAN WHEN THEY LIE FOR POLITICAL REASONS. Sam Adams is not Richard Nixon, and this is a sorry stand-in for Watergate!

Bottom line: the media likes power. They like to feel that they control things, that they manipulate reality according to their own designs. They set people up on a pedestal – Sam Adams the media darling! On every TV channel! In every paper! – and then knock them off, to exercise their contrived omnipotence – Adams in disgrace! How could he! He must resign immediately! Anyone stepping back and taking a look from outside the snow-globe can see exactly what’s going on. That’s why I will always be happy to remain in the background, a voice to be sure, but not on a pedestal, not a media figure – I won’t let people put me on a pedestal, because I don’t trust their motivations in doing so. I’m happy right where I am, thanks. Funny thing is a while back I sort of played the role of a person who craves fame for its own sake, in a tongue-in-cheek way, and some people who know me here think that’s what I am. I have to laugh, ‘cause that’s sooooo not what I’m about. Of course I want recognition, and I’m going to have it, but for solid artistic reasons, not the empty instant fame of modern celebrity culture. I find that kind of culture fascinating, but at the same time, unutterably pathetic. I’m going to set the bar a little higher. That’s why my blog isn’t 100% shallow coverage of every little thing that celebrities do, say, and wear, as is the case with a lot of other bloggers out there, particularly the gay ones. (I DESPISE Perez Hilton! Down with stupidity chic! "Intellectual" is not a synonym for "pretentious!" It simply means that you use your brain and devote yourself to things that actually matter!) Don’t take this personally, I enjoy your blogs sometimes, but maybe try branching out a little? Get out of the herd. Think for yourself. There are other things even more interesting than Angelina Jolie’s latest catfight with Jennifer Anniston.

I saw “The Beaches of Agnes” yesterday and it was SUPERB – gave it an A. Walking through the park blocks afterwards I saw someone had placed a sheaf of yellow flowers in the hand of Honest Abe.

This morning I was out again and saw “Dean Spanley,” a good movie for dog-lovers. Lots of close-ups of Peter O’Toole’s glassy-eyed, thin-lipped, occasionally drooling, skull-like face. But as an actor he is, of course, first-class. I’ve been thinking a lot about acting, lately. Reading Christopher Plummer’s memoir is factoring in here as well. I’ve often had the feeling that I missed my course and should have gotten into acting in high school, but I was too shy and withdrawn. Perhaps it’s not too late, though, eh? Is acting the new medium awaiting me in San Francisco? We shall see...

Had a good phone chat with Anthony, and we even touched on compensation and credit for the book, and I said I’d like to have my name on the cover, even if it’s in smaller letter than his, because I am trying to get my by-line out there, too. He said if it gets big and we do book readings he may have to send me to do them, ‘cause he doesn’t want to!

I have a few hours’ downtime before the Love Show. Autumn called to remind me of my alcohol monitoring shift. My job is to keep Olympic Mills and Pink/Haberman from getting in trouble with the Oregon Liquor Controlfreak Commission.

What should I wear?

PIFF

Up early for a Portland International Film Festival (PIFF) screening (“The Beaches of Agnes,” 11 a.m. at the Whitsell) and just had breakfast: Trader Joe’s banana waffles, a banana, and tea. Saw “Tulpan” yesterday, another PIFF movie (whence the above photo). I forgot how snooty PIFF is, so today I’m going to wear nicer clothes. I heard “Tulpan” was supposed to be really funny but I suspect the humor must have been subtle or stunted by cultural barriers ‘cause I didn’t laugh much. It was pretty well made but bleak and a bit slight in terms of story. A scene in which Tulpan crudely assists a pregnant goat in giving birth was...painful. On the way to the movie I stopped at the Philly Cheesesteak/burger cart in Pioneer Square and got a bacon cheeseburger. Guy working the cart said business was slow, only 7 burgers sold (by 2 p.m.) I asked him what a good number would be and he said 20 would be great, but he added burgers aren’t their big seller, more people come for the cheesesteaks. The burger was REALLLLLY good, they always are, I’ve eaten there before. I added a boom mic to our equipment reservation for 2/21 to be sure we get good audio for Art Police. I’m now trying to line up a photographer and videographer for the Hat Party on Pat’s behalf, and may end up being the videographer myself. If so, then between the Hat Party, Art Police and the other little film Emie and I shot a while back – “Monsieur LeTigre Speaks” – I’ll be completing three more short film projects before leaving, which I’ll feel good about. Tomorrow is the Loveshow, I’ll have to put together some nice little outfit for that. It looks like Vicky and I will just miss each other: she starts her shift as an alcohol monitor at 11pm, just when I’m leaving. I’m debating what to do tonight: either attend the screening of “The International” at Lloyd Center just because Ben Whishaw has a small part in it (Tom Tykwer, director of Run Lola Run and PERFUME starring Ben, obviously enjoyed working with his young star), or stay home and watch the Thursday night line-up, which is probably what I’ll end up doing, since they’re all new, and I’m lazy. Sorry, Ben, I’ll catch it on video. I sent out my going-away email last night and the people I expected to reply right away didn’t at all (except Kara), and a bunch of people I hardly expected to reply at all replied immediately. Funny stuff! Oh, and my valentine got printed in the Mercury! But which one? A ha ha ha ha ha.

Milk and snow

Early afternoon yesterday I was starting my day slow when all of a sudden I looked outside and it was snowing! Again! Big, thick flakes coming down heavy. At that very moment I had just decided to go and see Milk, finally, and had a half hour to get to the Fox Tower before it started. I lashed on my hiking boots and dashed to the MAX station and got to the theater just as previews were starting. (A MATINEE is $8.25 now? Jesus allmighty, being a journalist has spoiled me.)

So, then, Milk. It’s not Brideshead Revisited, but it’s pretty good. (They’re verrrrry different films anyway, so that’s not a fair comparison, but it’s on my mind since I finally got my DVD copy of Brideshead a couple days ago! I’m watching it with Dylan on the 20th, the day before I film Art Police.) Sean Penn does a great job as Milk. James Franco is hot, although his character suddenly disappears about halfway through the film with no explanation that I heard, only to reappear just as suddenly closer to the end. Next to Penn, Josh Brolin’s performance may be the best in the film, albeit in service of the “villain” of the film, the guy who shoots Milk. (Hard to believe this is the guy who played Mikey’s older brother Brand in The Goonies so long ago!) There was a subplot involving Milk’s latino lover that was pretty annoying, the character is written as an obnoxious, childish drama queen who locks himself in a closet at a party because people aren’t nice to him – ugggh. The best scenes were the ones in which Milk speaks to and connects with his crowd in the Castro after some police action or political upheaval that has them buzzing like a stirred ant-pile. A lot of the script was kind of melodramatic and contrived, and I think I understand why Gus has shied away from being overtly political for so long – it doesn’t suit him. He’s much more at home being literary and cinematic and poetic – I have that same sensibility, actually. Music or films that are stridently political never lift me as high as peoples’ personal narratives when they have an elegiac quality to them (and I’m back to Brideshead!) I am interested in individual human response and experience and politics smashes all that flat and says “individuals are not important, what is important is the larger picture.” But it isn’t hard to see how Milk fits into a moment in history that’s happening right now and it’s obviously a labor of love on Van Sant’s part.

After the movie I went home (cold rain now, snow gone), surrendered to Taco Bell, then interviewed Kevin Reedy, the author of The Best Nonreligious Quotes Ever. I can tell when I conduct a smashing interview and this one was smashing. Totally smooth, no awkward moments, I had my questions prepared, but left the script when we just started talking, and I was able to effortlessly switch between asking him questions and relating my own experience to his responses. I said he needs some quotes from Andy Warhol and Virginia Woolf for his website and that I would pick some out and submit them. (I also suggested “Nothing is funnier than humor” for the humor section which is MINE!) They printed their book P.O.D. through LightningSource and I picked his brain a little about that, so in addition to getting what I needed for the article, I gleaned some more advice that I can use for my own book.

Joel came over to buy my DVD player and we ended up watching a 3-hour movie, one of his favorites: The Right Stuff, from 1983. It really didn’t look that old, if I was guessing I’d think it was made in the 90s. It’s definitely a guys’ film, or rather a boys’ film: reminded me of being a lot younger, like in the Mt. Rainier days. The script and acting both went awry at certain points, but it won a bunch of Oscars for things like editing and score and other technical things, and it deserved them. I’ve heard it described as “the intelligent man’s Top Gun.” Sam Shepard looks like a melange of four other celebrities – Matt LeBlanc from Friends, Val Kilmer, and a couple others whose names escape me. Ed Harris has the youthful face and glowing blue eyes of a baby or a little boy even though he’s a balding man. Anthony called to say he and J. have left Bora Bora and will be in San Fran now until shortly before I leave Portland, he said while they were away their dog attacked their neighbor’s dog and tore part of its ear off and other damage and I said, “So your dog won?” but I really wish they were cat people, I hate aggressive, violent dogs and I sure am gonna miss Lucy, even on Maui.

Goldilocks and the three laptops

Spent some time at the Fireside Coffee Lodge yesterday, which kind of has the feel of a hostel. Actually with the fireplace and all the stout hairy men it kind of feels like “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” except that Goldilocks is nowhere in sight, and the three bears are fixated on their laptop computers. I’m waiting for a call back from Kevin Reedy and still brainstorming questions for “Daddy Donner” about How To Be A Gay Porn Star. I put the Sluts and Squares performers in touch with Pat, who will hopefully line them up for the Hat Party, and in so doing I’ve realized that I’m pretty good at this connecting-people thing, juggling different people I know in my mind and thinking “you would work good with so-and-so,” and I’m thinking that may be a career path I should pursue, a way to make money while I devote my free time to various creative endeavors of my own. Meghan said she read a book recently by a guy who talks about different personality types and the “connector” type, which I guess I am, is not something everyone has, it’s a talent.

Prior to getting caffeinated at the Fireside I dropped off the final version of What I Really Want Is at Minuteman (man I hate the #72 bus, the one that runs along 82nd Ave: always crowded, always the most depressing collection of people imaginable), so I will soon have 50 copies hot off the presses to give away and sell. I’d like to give away half at my going away gathering and sell the rest for $5 each, that way I may just make back printing costs. I got off the #4 bus on Division and 35th and walking south to Powell I passed a house that had an upside-down mannequin embedded in the yard with her legs pointing straight up to heaven – photo above. Texted Melanie to say they were playing Grey Gardens free at Pix Patisserie – I happened to be walking very near her old house (still her house, but no one’s living there right now, weirdly).

Posted my list of things to sell and give away on Craigslist and within minutes had several people inquiring especially about the Super 8 camera, which I realize now I should’ve sold instead of given away, I just figured they’re so old people can’t really use them any more, but the kids who ended up picking it up (along with the desk and lamp) said they saw one go for $50 just the other day. Oh well, I got it free, I pass it on free and share the wealth. They seemed like nice kids who’ll put it to good use. It is so nice to get rid of stuff. Only the office chair left now, and then the “for sale” stuff, which of course is going to be harder to unload. Scott is taking my bike pump for $30. I left Fireside at 4pm to meet Kirk at the Berlin Inn for happy hour – we had the whole place to ourselves. Kirk pointed to this club called Blue Dragonfly that we could see from our window and asked if I’d ever been in there, and the waitress coming by told us about the one time she went there and had a really bad time, and they cut her off even though she wasn’t drunk, because she was dancing like a hippie – I guess it’s a reggae/dance hall/hiphop joint, but they don’t like hippies. I picked up a bottle of gluhwein from Edelweiss on the way out (I’m taking a little break from sobriety...but no more heavy drinking.) After Berlin we stopped by Biddy’s for a pint and Kirk took more of his glass-enhanced photos of me. At home I got stuff ready for the guys who were coming to pick it up, and now a lot of nice space is opening up in my room. Lucy, of course, is getting nervous.

I sketched my future plans for both Kirk and Scott: Maui for six months, then San Francisco, then maybe I’ll dip down into South America for awhile, polish up my Spanish, maybe visit the rain forest where Terence McKenna and his brother had the experiences detailed in True Hallucinations, then stop by New York for awhile, visit some people I know there, then across the pond to England, where I’ll investigate Bloomsbury and Hogarth House and other haunts of Virginia Woolf (ending of course at the River Ouse), then over to Spain where I will do the Camino de Santiago pilgrimmage and NOT die, then nip up to Germany for some of the world’s best beer straight from the source – find the Schwelmer brewery – luxuriate in the artistic decadence of Berlin for awhile – then to Italy, which everyone says “changes you,” by which point I will have shacked up with Ben Whishaw, and we’ll travel together, and finally when I’m pretty old and the artistic mission is fully accomplished, Ben and I will settle down in Africa – Botswana or Kenya, not sure exactly where yet – to observe and live among hippos in their natural habitat. Yeah. It’s all pretty much planned out.

Talkangelic

My winning streak continues. This morning Scott drove me to UPS where I shipped my two boxes off to Maui for a whopping $95 – damn! And that was the cheapest rate, parcel post. I insured the clothing box for $300. Could tell it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. Then he was so kind as to drop me off near Emie and Justin’s house. We had our cast meeting for Art Police, and it went well: I felt much better afterwards. Both of them did really well delivering their lines, funny and professional at the same time. I underestimate them because of how messy their lifestyle can be. We’re filming the weekend of the 21st, and I called PCM and made the equipment reservation with Pam, who said she thought I’d moved already. Audra will not be participating in the film (omg) so Emie is going to play both roles: Ann Athema and the gallery owner, which actually I think is going to be really funny, and I’m looking forward to her change of costume and makeup. There’s a gallery right across from their house they think we may be able to film in to avoid the cramped quarters of Emie’s salon. Justin was very interested in my book “How To Be A Gay Porn Star” which I’m writing up for J.O. We decided we should get a fourth person to work the camera while we film. They were playing a show at The Know tonight and invited me but I’m avoiding drinking and that pretty much means avoiding going out. I brought them my space heater, the one I got from Wal-Mart last year, since their house is always freezing; this way they don’t have to turn the gas on and heat the whole house. I was going to sell it but wtf. After the meeting I went into downtown and picked up the Christopher Plummer memoir “In Spite of Myself” which I had on hold. The MAX routes were screwed up because they’re preparing to open the green line, so they had bus shuttles bringing people along what is normally the MAX route. Nonetheless I got out to Chameleon by 4pm for my meeting with Pat. He made me food as always, and it was really good – spring rolls and chicken and cabbage on rice, nice and spicy. We talked over the Hat Party and he confirmed I can have the patio for my birthday/going away soiree on March 18th! He doesn’t have special guests planned for the Hat Party this time – Sam Adams probably won’t work this year, for obvious reasons – and is looking for new performers, so I suggested some of the burlesque performers of Query/Sluts and Squares, and need to put them in touch with him. I’d love to see them rock the Hat Party. I suggested he auction off Beau Breedlove as part of the festivities, which got a big laugh, but uh, I don’t think that’ll actually work. Why do cars always almost hit me when I’m crossing Sandy, legally, in the Hollywood District? It’s happened many times, something about that particular area. My new contacts are working out great. I’ve missed the freedom of not wearing glasses. Portland was great for glasses – “When in Rome,” you know – but Maui just says contacts to me. (Gotta be able to wear sunglasses.) My sobriety is strong right now. I even resisted the lure of free drinks when I visited Pat at Chameleon this afternoon. Although I’ve rediscovered the ritual of smoking weed before bed. This stuff is mellow and non-paranoid and makes me feel like a big, lazy cat. Scott just invited me to the Talkdemonic concert at Doug Fir, but I’m feeling too stay-at-home. Gonna work on stuff, smoke a bit of herb, watch SNL, which is new tonight, with TV on the Radio as the musical guest. Cuddle with my sugarpuss, who seems to be growing ever sweeter as our time together draws to a close, as if to be certain to break my heart when the time for separation arrives.

Another amazing day

Another amazing day, my third in a row. The kind of day where you keep getting to the bus stop RIGHT BEFORE the bus arrives. I sort of only have two speeds: ultra-focused or a complete mess. But when I’m really focused, I am unstoppable. In just three days I’ve done a considerable portion of what I need to do to get ready to move, including lots of sorting of clothes, boxing of stuff, selling my bike, got 4 big apple boxes from Safeway yesterday, and may have found a good home for Lucy as well – she’s going to get back to me this weekend. Woke up this morning, had a light breakfast of Caesar salad (been eating it morning noon and night since I bought a big bag that will go bad soon) and tea, exercised, worked on my artist resume which I hadn’t touched since I lived in the Melcliff, submitted “Mistress Violet” to Butt Magazine (I sent them “Natural Born Faggot” a while back but it’s too long and I’m sure they won’t be able to use it). Spoke with Pat yesterday, I’m meeting with him tomorrow for the Hat Party piece, also discussed my birthday/farewell gathering and he said we can probably have the patio which is AWESOME, the Chameleon’s patio would be perfect! I took the "art pig" photo above the other day on NW 23rd Ave while scouting my cousin's old house. Had my optician appointment at 2pm and went in with a combative attitude because I get so angry about how the PSU insurance doesn’t help one bit with vision and apparently there’s a law that says you have to update your eye prescription once a year (who wrote that law? opticians?) and then the guys turned out to be pretty nice and assured me I can have a copy of my prescription to transfer to Maui/San Fran and it will be good for a year, so then I calmed down and things went pretty well. Doc said my eyes have actually improved ever so slightly so my glasses prescription is a little too strong for me, but the stigmatism in my left eye has gotten a little bit worse, so it pretty much evens out. I asked him about the prescription law and he said for contacts its federal but for glasses it’s not and varies from state to state. He did that numbing/dilation test on me so for the next few hours I felt like everywhere I looked I was staring straight into the sun. I got a pair of lenses to try for a week and then go in and see if we need to change to something else. Then I bussed up to Minuteman where Patrick very kindly printed me a proof copy of my book on the spot as I waited in the showroom, and it looks really fantastic! Really I wasn’t expecting such quality for the price he quoted me, the images especially came out way better than I thought they would, since I hadn’t even prepped most of them for black and white. I’m going to make the final adjustments this weekend, then go back in Monday to drop off the absolute final version for printing. Then I went to the bead store on 48th & Division and fixed the bracelet I made ages ago when I worked for Susan Matlack Jones (before being fired due to my personality conflict with the incredibly annoying lesbian receptionist who picked at the scab under her nose and complained after coming back from a lengthy vacation), the girl working there was very nice and did the crimping and clasping for me, the part I don’t know how to do, so I gave her a little tip. The bracelet will be good to wear on the beach, I made it very African looking without consciously setting out to do so. Tomorrow I think my roommate will take me to UPS to ship my two boxes off to Maui. One thing I will NOT miss about Portland: walking along 82nd Ave. every day breathing car exhaust (benzene inhalation = hello leukemia!) On the way home stopped by Trader Joes and picked up some groceries including those butter waffle cookies that are devastating. There’s a cute boy working there who’s probably much too young for me. All in all, a productive day. I think it’s going to be like this from now until I leave. I’ve been sober for a week or two except for weed, and I’m going to stay that way, except that I will allow myself to drink on my birthday, if I’m good til then.

Temporal dissolution and gold styrofoam

Man alive, what a beautiful day. I sold my bike! Guy came over this morning, examined it, took it for a little spin up the road (he asked if I wanted to hold his wallet, but some people you just trust immediately), and said he’d take it! (One thing I’m going to miss about Portland: cute, skinny cycle boys.) He was only the second one to look at it, too. Now I’m trying to unload my computer but I don’t know if it’ll happen since the day of the desktop is over. Its selling point is that it comes with lots of expensive software (InDesign, Photoshop, Dreamweaver, etc.) pre-installed.

It was beautiful today in more than one way: the weather, for sure – an encouraging glimmer of spring. And also I was more active than I’ve been in awhile, fully emerged from my recent spell of winter doldrums. I spraypainted a mannequin head gold (for reasons known only to myself). It looks oddly beautiful, like a crumbled Egyptian statue. Afterwards I went out and about and had myself a productive day. Stopped by Justin & Emie’s to talk Art Police and get a new blue cloth bandage on my recent knife wound, which has healed very well. Then went to Goodwill in search of props for the film: a badge and bad art. Didn’t find either – well, there was plenty of bad art, but nothing that quite grabbed me the right way. (The perfect thing would be a painting of a cop hanging from a tree or being shot, then you’d have the art police in the film objecting to art depicting their death, it would make it kinda darkly funny.) Jean called to say she’d found the coolest vintage book on Lou Reed and the V.U. at Goodwill (which I had just left!) and asking if I wanted it but I stood firm by my policy of NO MORE STUFF. (I’m going to sell some of my books at Powell’s this week, except the precious few I just can’t live without.) Then to PSU where I took advantage of my dwindling student privileges to print out free copies of the finalized Art Police script. We are having a cast meeting I believe on Saturday then filming (at long last) next weekend.

After PSU I road the streetcar into Northwest, on a mission to find the house on the corner of 25th & Kearney where my cousin used to live. He can’t remember the house number and needs it for the book. I found it all right (photo above), a massive many-windowed dark old house with a gnarly witch tree in the hill-shaped front yard. There I felt an eerie sense of what I might call “temporal dissolution” – the sense of time being unreal, and of the lingering presence of another person who once stood right where you stand now. In other words, I tried to imagine my cousin walking out the front door as I stood on the steps. I didn’t bring a pen to write the house number down, just memorized it, then walked away and started thinking of other things and like a moron had forgotten it within ten blocks, so had to walk back and get the number again! (Memory isn’t what it used to be.) Nice day for walking, though, I didn’t much mind. Finally I picked up a few groceries at Trader Joe’s and checked to see if they had any boxes I could take for moving, and the stocker girl was very sweet to stop what she was doing and check for me, but they didn’t have any usable ones. (Where does one find cardboard boxes? Aside from buying them, which seems silly.)

Yesterday cousin Ant called from Bora Bora where he & J. are vacationing, he said there’s a place that opens into a hole in the ocean, so apparently there was a big round glass window IN THEIR HOTEL ROOM that opened directly into the sea – underwater! – and as we were talking a manta ray swam up and was playing right outside their window! Ant was yelling for J. to get the camera. The life they lead is the kind we used to watch on television shows about rich people. But I’m happy for my cousin. He and I both know what it’s like to live in evil welfare apartments in the small-town Midwest, where dreams are crushed and people cut off one another’s legs with lawn mowers for sport. He deserves his happiness. And he works hard, too. And I’m going to work while I’m there. It’ll be a vacation to be sure, and I’m sure as hell going to enjoy six months on Maui, but it’ll be an active enjoyment, not idle.

Now, let’s see, what do I have to get done before I leave? I’ve been stacking the deck heavily of late. I have three articles due to J.O. on the 23rd, including a substantial one on a gay porn star who has written a book about how to be a gay porn star (he just offered to put me in front of the camera after our interview!), plus three films I’m reviewing from PIFF; I’m volunteering at the Loveshow next Friday as an alcohol monitor (lizard?); shooting and editing a short film; publishing my book; hosting a going-away gathering on March 18th (with friends from Glacier visiting – Lisa who shares my birthday!), plus school stuff and everything I have to do to be ready to move. Hot damn, it’s a good thing I like being busy!

And on that note, I think I better go do some work. Kiss meow, glam

Art Police Revisited

I woke up the other night with two funny little fragments in my head, 1) "Gayness and alcoholism both run in my family. But alcoholism runs faster." 2) "Like a crackwhore without her crackpipe." The first one is almost good enough for a bumper sticker, but I don't have a car.

The image above was borrowed off the internet, I believe the title is Flyff Art Police by Artoki.

My laptop is back up after suddenly shutting down a couple weeks ago. Thank goodness it was just the power cord, and I've got the new one now. I had a momentary panic that the hard drive crashed, which would be devastating as my entire book that I've been working on for months, and many other things, could be wiped out in an instant. Now I can finally bring it in for printing! And then there's my little movie, "The Art Police," which has suffered from a lot of recent emotional turbulence and problems that have gotten in the way of being successfully creative for a while now. But something wonderful and unexpected has happened, and it turns out now that the recent delays and flake-outs on my part and changes of cast were for the best, possibly. What I mean is that I woke up this morning, after conjuring ideas for several hours, and wrote an entirely new and vastly better draft of the film. I now see that the first version was a rough draft and I hadn't held it in my mind long enough to really clearly envision it all. After finishing writing it in one burst (it's only about a 10-minute film anyhow!) I read it over and got excited, and became fully committed to it for the first time. Every single thing is better now, more fully fleshed, detailed stage directions, I THINK I finally have the perfect cast (if Audra agrees to take the part of the gallery owner, which I've totally written with an in-joke just for her), and most of all, the ending is actually....almost amazing. Much better than the others. And it makes a kind of intentionally ambiguous point, on the one hand condoning the need for self-love when you're an artist, and at the same time commenting on narcissism as well. So. I'd despaired of making this film several times recently, and thought how low I'd fallen if I couldn't even make one more short film before I leave Portland. And now I know it still IS going to happen, and better than before. I have to have it all edited and copied by March 1st so we can win the top prize at the Golden Coyote!

All righty then. I need to stop self-analyzing and go live my life now. My next post will be about politics or economics or rare imported China or something relevant like that.

The Only Faith I Need. And Being In Love. (Me??)

Where to pick up the pieces, and which pieces to pick up, those are my questions right now. Creatively I’m finally almost back on top. School, on the other hand, is not good...not good at all. I am so burnt out on it and have no motivation. Kind of stuck in this unpleasant stage between leaving one place and starting a brilliant new chapter. Six months on Maui! And San Francisco afterwards. I am the luckiest S.O.B. ever, and it's weird to have this one family member - and one so fabulous it's like I invented him myself out of some psychic need - care enough to extend this invitation to me, after living a life in which "family" has always been pretty much nonexistent, or else depressing and tragic to the point where I just have to shut it out to keep from going to pieces. And I've kind of been going to pieces lately.

Oddly - but not oddly for me, really - it's a new movie that's instigated a sort of landslide of emotions that has been threatening to bury me lately. It's Brideshead Revisited, the new film version, which came out late last year - I saw it alone in a theater full of elderly nursing home church people of some kind (I had to pick a Sunday afternoon!), who were probably all hooked on the '80s miniseries, and watched the film in total silence, then shuffled out, possibly completely offended by some of the bold changes in the new version (including the one brief kiss between Charles and Sebastian that brings the gay subtext to the surface, and the brilliant ending that switches Charles' conversion to Catholicism into a tolerance of faith despite his own professed atheism) - but it is these very changes that I love so much, I know I've been one of those people in the past who vehemently protests when someone does a modern "update" and changes an author's work, so this is an example of seeing the other side of that debate. Then again I haven't read the novel yet, although I purchased a copy I plan to read on Maui - with the poster imagery from the new film version on the cover! I may be the only one talking so passionately about this film, but hey, never stopped me before. And then of course there is Ben Whishaw, who I've already sung a thousand love songs to before, and his, in my opinion almost astonishing performance as Sebastian in the new version. I'm in the peculiar place of being enamored of this character on the one hand, wanting him to be real, wanting to know him, wanting to save him from self-destruction, and on the other hand feeling that he represents me, in some ways, more than any other character I've seen in a film in half of forever. But he's different than me, too, and Ben's performance is helping make me a better person. I've watched it a number of times recently with four different groups of people - definition of friendship: people you share your obsessions with! - and I study his character - his gentleness, his manner of speaking (God the British accent is hot! Maybe the hottest of all), just the look in his eyes - and take from it things I can use to improve my own personality. This is a roundabout way of saying that I'm in love - I really am, like head over heels, and this never happens to me - with a character from a film, and by extension, with the actor who portrayed him (there's no denying looks are part of the equation!) The unfortunate thing is that this being in love business can be dreadfully depressing - the worst soul ache a human can feel, I think, except maybe a mother losing her offspring, I'm guessing. It happened to me long ago with a real person, ONCE, and I simply couldn't bear the pain of it and made a resolution to never let it happen to me again, so I gave up love and sex and relationships and the whole thing and just said it's better to be alone, and that's how I've been forever. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it's a harbinger of good things to come. I'm definitely approaching a major turning point.

I am so glad Sam Adams didn’t have to resign in the face of this artificial, tawdry, tabloid-in-a-teapot controversy. At the same time, I will say that I would never advocate damaging newspaper boxes because people don’t agree with your opinion, which apparently happened to Just Out. Marty Davis posted something a while back cautioning people to beware that everything they post on Facebook can be read by every major media outlet in Portland. I’m sure that caution wasn’t intended for me, because it’s probably pretty obvious that I’m not very shy when it comes to revealing personal thoughts as well as vehement opinions on virtually any subject. I COPIED my letter to WW’s editor to every major media outlet in Portland! I also sometimes write about some really personal stuff and put it up on public websites. I’m not fully sure why, some form of mass confession maybe, but also simply because I want people to know me, warts and all, and then I guess I really write a lot of it for myself, a self-psycho-analysis thing, and in case it's interesting enough for anyone else, why not share it? I don't really care if people know the less savory things about me or the sometimes severe mistakes I make or the more unhealthy impulses I sometimes succumb to. I don't want to hide anything. I disclose everything and I like people who are similarly honest and strong enough to make themselves as vulnerable as I sometimes do. I believe in myself and that is the only faith I need.

The prologue of my book - final version

I posted this a while back but I'm putting it back up because it's changed so much. (Another example of how the second or third or fifth draft is almost always much better than the first - don't let me forget that!)