Hat Party / acting / Mercury vs. Village Voice

The Hat Party was fun, but the after-party crowd didn’t turn out. Neither did several of the people I went to the trouble of putting on the guest list. (Grrrrrrrrrr. I’m not mad at Vicky, though. She had a valid excuse, plus she’s going to let me store my boxes in her basement until I can have them shipped to San Fran, which is a lifesaver.) It was exciting until 10 or 11pm, then tapered off sharply, and I left around 12:30. Got great footage of the performers and the hat contest. Seventh and Element showed up early and made quite an entrance, since Element was wearing nothing but a leather harness and black jockstrap, and shaking his bare ass on the dance floor. I was glad when they appeared, though, ‘cause the party needed that extra push into un-inhibition. Sean and LeeAnn both snapped mass photos. The cute go-go boy from last year wasn’t there, they had other ones instead. I met a girl named Alison, Baby LeStrange’s friend, who is a film editor and photographer and gave me her card. Also a guy named Gregor, a former Silverado bartender, with whom I traded old memories of the City Nightclub and Portland back in the day. He said when My Own Private Idaho was filming River and Keanu would come to the City and Keanu would smoke pot in the bathroom constantly and River was “a weird guy.” (He’s also the first person I fell in love with, before Dylan, and before Ben Whishaw, unless you count Krystal Capps, but that was a different, platonic sort of love.)

Joel showed up after 10pm and said he loved the way Art Police turned out. He said every time Justin was on screen it made him laugh, and that Emie has the quality of a silent movie star – those big, expressive doe eyes. (“You should make a silent film with her.”) He also praised my editing, saying “You created spaces that didn’t exist.” It’s true that editing is where the magic really happens: you can take a bad movie and make it a good one through editing, that’s how potent it is to the final mix. Kirk said I should check into doing some community theater when I get to San Francisco, which is something I was already considering. Acting will help bring out my emotions more. I’m already starting to come alive again. I feel like the last eight years or so have been a slow recovery from the time I almost died from drugs, and for a long time after that I was in a sort of semi-zombified state, half alive you might say, which is why I related so much to Andy Warhol (post-assassination attempt Warhol, I mean). But I think I’ve finally made a full recovery. And corny as it may sound, it’s a certain English actor I’m obsessed with that brought me the final step back to being fully alive. Because if you lack the ability to love you can’t be full alive as a human being.The moment I first saw “Brideshead Revisited” in the theater it instantly became one of my favorite movies of all time. I’m going to do a series of expressive portraits of Ben when I get to Maui, I’ve decided. I did a preliminary drawing last night, and it came out really well. I think I’ll send it to Ben, in fact. I believe I am actually friends with him on MySpace.

Yesterday after seeing "Sunshine Cleaning" Joel and I had lunch at the Sunshine Cafe (where I had one of the worst gyros I've ever eaten and a semi-decent peanut butter cookie) and I brought up newspapers, saying I'd like to find one to write for in San Fran. I said the Village Voice would be my ideal, and Joel said the VV is only so revered and important because it's in New York, "If the Mercury was in New York it would be the Village Voice," he said, and I said I thought most of the writing in the VV is better than what's in the Mercury - the Stranger might be a better comparison - and I went off on the relentless snarkiness of the Mercury, and Joel said he likes that their reviews of bad movies are brutal, just tearing the film to shreds, but I said yes, they do that well, but they don't have the OTHER side of it. Let's say I wanted to write a review of "Brideshead Revisited," a film that truly moved me, that I think is beautiful and the highest cinematic art. I want to write a review that expresses that in a sincere, passionate, truthful way. And the sort of review I would write about a movie I loved wouldn't fit in the Mercury. They're too concerned with proving their coolness by being cynical and snarky to genuinely and unselfconsciously praise the beauty of a film. That is a LAME definition of cool and not one I will ever accept. I want to write for a paper where I can express the full range of my responses to art without tailoring them for a mentally deficient or emotionally lopsided audience. If you've read my film reviews in Just Out, you know I can decimate a shitty movie with the best of them, but that is hardly the range of my abilities.

All I care about is telling the truth as I see it.

I ran into Cliff at PSU yesterday – little Cliff who I made “Pestilence” with last year for our video class with Holly Andres. He said, “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else?” I guess I copied him on the email I sent out before I left for Glacier. Melanie arrives late Thursday night, and Lisa next Tuesday (St. Patrick's Day), and then it's only a week until I'm leaving on a jet plane for the islands! Oh, joy! My adult life begins NOW.

This Just In!

I got one last cover story in Just Out, cover above! You can read all the articles online here. My articles start on pages 16, 17 and 23.

I feel better about my performance in "Art Police" after watching it several times and hearing some feedback. I really kinda look like a thug. My friend Kirk, who came over last night to watch a hilariously bad film called "Zombie Strippers," said that his girlfriend after watching AP said, "Not only does he not look gay, he looks macho." Another friend said he thought I did a good job but that Justin didn't do so well as the other art police officer. I think it's funny the way Justin overplayed the role, though. I told him he should play it over-the-top and be the crazy emotional counterpart to my cool, clipped, deadpan. I think that contrast is funny.

Off to the media center to burn DVDs of Art Police, and then it's Hat Party time, baby!

snobs / angels / megalomania

New issue of Just Out comes out today and I have three articles in it: one on a book called "The Best Nonreligious Quotes Ever" (Kevin Reedy), one on another book called "How To Be A Gay Porn Star" (Mike Donner), and one on the 12th Annual Hat Party at Chameleon this Sunday (where I will see each and every one of you, right?) I stopped by Chameleon yesterday and talked over both the Hat Party and my party, and left just as a health inspector with a clipboard arrived (Health Police!) Pat said we should be able to project "Art Police" on the wall for my party, but we need speakers; the movies he usually projects during business hours are silent. He told me about the Salon Q that Chameleon hosted a few weeks back. Sounds like it drew a good crowd (he estimated almost 200 people), but based on other things he told me I'm glad I didn't go. He said there were uppity attitudes and when a stripper Pat had hired showed up to perform, some of the gays got snooty, asking "What is a stripper doing here?" and Pat's attitude in response was "You aren't at a business meeting, this is a party." I said, "There are lots of snobby gay guys that are just no fun."

Funny how hearing a little thing like that sets me off. I think back to that cocktail hour for queer journalists that I attended a while back, where someone, I think it was that Zuckerman person (apparently Sam Adams' boyfriend du jour), when introduced to me played the snob card and was like "Where do you come from? Who do you know?" I guess I was supposed to prove my right to be amongst such lofty company by ticking off a list of names of my connections to important and powerful people. Like Byron Beck, maybe? (He was there. We didn't talk.) I don't know which was more unpleasant: the snobbery oozing from him like cobra venom or the fact that the venue selected for our little social status contest served eight-dollar drinks at happy hour. (Let's live in the real world: if we're journalists, most of us aren't exactly raking in money. Let me pick the venue next time. Actually, let me pick the people, too.) I kind of felt bad for him, though, because I sort of know what he was getting at: he didn't know what box to put me in, because I don't fit in any box. And even though I greatly enjoy journalism and the opportunities it affords me to network and meet great people, it is hardly the extent of my ambition to be a freelance journalist for the rest of my life. I am not just going to write about people, I'm going to be someone who is written about. I have visions of being the center of a cult of personality. I've had them for a long time.

Maybe I AM a megalomaniac. I have certainly been afflicted with delusions of wealth, power, fame, etc. for almost as long as I can remember. Except, to paraphrase John Hurt playing Quentin Crisp in "The Naked Civil Servant," (above, with Greenwich Village drag queen) I would question the word "afflicted." I think I would have to ask whether "delusions" are really all that bad. What it really boils down to is that I have long had - maybe ALWAYS had - a strange certainty that I am on course to something great, that at some point I will have some measure of wealth or fame or success (or all three!), almost as if I'm guided by some sort of angelic spirit. I would say that I feel "blessed" if that word wasn't so tinged with religion. That's why snubs by snobs just can't hurt me. I like people who are just NICE. It's the easiest thing in the world to be and takes much less energy than copping attitude and it's so much more pleasant to be around. Of course, there is a time and a place for attitude - and don't I know it! - but there's no reason to be rude and snobby simply for the sake of it. People who are obsessed with proving and maintaining their social status are a sad, desperate lot, and I will happily pass right by them on my way to endless treasure that will never be theirs and has always been mine, without even an effort, since the very beginning! Social snobs are insecure and afraid to be themselves deep down.

I am neither. And actually, I never have been...even going back to elementary school! I dress how I want, do what I want, say what I really think. Boys who wear brand name clothing don't impress me. Boys who make their own clothes do. I'm not in it for money or social status or any of those things, really, although I'll accept them if they come, and I have a feeling they will, eventually, if I just keep going in the direction I'm headed. Maybe I'll find out fame and artistic recognition and material comfort aren't important to me after all. Maybe I'll fall in love and it'll be mutual (whoa nelly!) and I'll learn how to fully love another human being, the one major aspect of human existence that I'm still in the dark about. Regardless, my life is rich and full already and now that I've finally made a serious commitment to take better care of myself and really go for the gold, the good times are really only starting. I have something that most people don't have. It's a sort of invincibility that comes from my calm and unyielding conviction that wherever I'm going, it's somewhere great, and no matter what happens when I get there - even if it's not exactly what I expected in my starry-eyed youth - it will be OK.

Bad News!

It is with some reluctance that I put this link up before I have Art Police finished and viewable on YouTube/Vimeo, because this little film, "Bad News," is very much a B side to Art Police, and started as almost an afterthought, but I guess it's funny enough to show people. Especially now that I've cut out the most embarrassing bits.

Actually, it's still kind of embarrassing, but if others can find amusement at my expense, I guess I regard that as sort of a charity duty that I perform for other humans.

I should probably add a disclaimer about how some of the commentary I issue here, which is excerpted from my writing collection, is satirical and tongue-in-cheek. Then again, a lot of it does reflect things I've thought or that I feel on various topics. It's about 50% scripted, 50% improv with Emie bringing her special blend of off-the-cuff belligerence to the proceedings. She stole the show. But I let her steal it. If I was Andy Warhol she would be one of my superstars.

The Hat Party is one week from today and I'm in one of the frenzies of packing, cleaning, getting shit done that always follows a lazy interlude of irresponsibility.

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.

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.