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The Public Blogging of Pomosexuality, Homotextuality, Homophobiaphilia, and Drear Theory (aka Career Theory) [aka Gay4Pay]. We also read the Corner and OpJournal so the right buttock will be punished as well.
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Let Us Now Praise a Fourteen Hour-Old Putdown or The Kristol-Driven Life
From former Bush speechwriter Mathew Scully's NYT'sop-ed defense of Mlle. Harriet M.:
When it was Mr. Kristol's charming friend John Bolton whose fate was in question, that was family business, and for the president no price was too high for loyalty. But Harriet Miers, who is only the president's friend, is now to be led away like Carlo in "The Godfather" with his "ticket to Vegas." 5:57 PM
And His Dreamy Eyes Are Looking Sad All of a Sudden
Someone's got a crush down under. Or maybe Harriet Mier's writes their headlines. From Melbourne's The Age:
MOSUL, Iraq-- In the upcoming constitutional referendum, Nineveh province has been considered the Ohio of Iraq, the swing state where success of the founding document hangs in the balance.
And here I was thinking Ohio was the Gomorrah of the southeast midwest.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Art Is Deceitful Above All Things
I loved JT Leroy's second book, The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things. I read his first book, Sarah, second and liked it less. If I'd read Sarah first I might not have gotten around to The HIDAAT. Where The Heart... rang brave and true, Sarah too often rang magically real, and that's a phone call I never take. Via Dennis Cooper, who is central to the Leroy legend and who teases out the story as a blind item and then doesn't even provide a direct link--whether from guilt, anger, or a general distaste for typing Leroy's name (and or html), comes this New York Magazine piece that argues Leroy is a Chatterton or Ossian for our times. Which is to say a literary hoax pure and simple, which is to smudged and complex.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
The Woods Are Just Trees, The Trees Are Just Wood
I'm as embarrassed as the next post-gay guy to find myself enjoying uber-gay culture, but I'm lately sensing that uber-gay is the new post-gay so I will direct your attention to Stephen Sondheim's 1987 musical Into the Woods, the London cast's 1991 recording of which I have listened to twenty (and counting) times in the last week. I thought I'd listened it into submission at around the 15th time and had meant to switch to another CD when, in a bit of self-legerdemain, I botched the switch and returned Into the Woods Into the Walkman unawares. I hit play expecting some other sounds than Sondheim's to flood my head. I heard instead that same thing I'd been looping for days and realized in an instant that I did indeed want to hear it again. And again several more times after that. Within the general looping of the entire score I most often looped one single track, Agony (first version), a thrilling melody with two actual laugh lines hidden amongst the general loveliness. And how rare is that?
The CD booklet's notes are similarly rare in their effect on me. They make me wish I'd seen the London production of the show. My feelings about the theater and theater-going were expressed for me by Fran Leibowitz, whose apparent disappearance from earth gets less notice than it should. I hadn't thought about Fran myself much until a correspondent mentioned her disparagingly. This made me wonder if I was mistaken in my remembered admiration for her. I searched out some online interviews and realized my memory was sound and my correspondent was not. From a 1997 interview, which you should read all of, because I like you and think you deserve to enjoy yourself:
DAVID: I was hoping we could continue the conversation we had over the phone about the evaporation of any sort of 'counter-culture' such as it was. FRAN: Fine. DAVID: Is Rent part of that phenomenon? FRAN: Yes, unfortunately, but you know, those aren't causes, they're effects. I personally didn't see Rent. When it opened, someone asked me to go to Rent, and I said, "I refuse to go." And this guy said, "You always judge things before you see them." Which is the best way to judge them if you ask me, then you don't have to see them. I said, "I know exactly what it's going to be like. It's going to be like Hair with AIDS." So I didn't see it. But then this guy called me in about the middle of the show, when he left, to tell me that I was correct. DAVID: How were you so sure? FRAN: Because I'm 46. There's nothing like being old to be sure of everything. I knew. I knew what it was going to be like. I could tell from reading about it. I could tell from hearing about it. I could tell from the fact that it was a play. I mean, people make these big distinctions between what's on Broadway, what's off-Broadway, when, in fact, the theater itself is so archaic and old fashioned, that it doesn't really matter to me whether it's on Avenue D or at the Helen Hayes Theater. What's the difference? It's still a very nostalgic form. Also, it means you're knowingly walking into a room where there's actors. I feel it's very embarrassing. Because, you know, they're right there. You always think like, they can see you, and I think it's mortifying, frankly, and I hate to sit near the front, where you feel they actually might see you. It's too--it's too live. 11:00 PM
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Next Week: Jackson Trips in Tumult Leaving Polanski's Oliver Twist
LONDON - Michael Jackson fell to the ground as he tried to make his way through a throng of hundreds of fans outside the Victoria Palace theater, where he watched the stage version of the movie "Billy Elliot." 2:17 AM