I say, let the homophobes who feel the need to leave, leave.
They can start their own National Scouting troupes. Call
them what they will. Straight Arrow Scouts, Scouts for a Hateful Jesus, We Hate
Boys Who Sing Scouts.
Since the Boy Scouts of America will no longer uphold
discrimination, it appears the only way to keep the discrimination pure is to
form a divided-but-equal hold on the outdoorsy souls of boys and young men. Go
for it. Divide. Like the Anglican Church. Set up HQ in Africa.
And what a better time for such a move than in 2013? Isn’t
this the era when it makes perfect sense to make sure the core principle that
disallows boys and young men who are not heterosexual to hike and canoe and
make lanyard key chains? Take a stand. Do it.
The irony about these God-fearing bigoted people is they
think everything is about sex. Hell, what if some very effeminate kid wants to
be in the scouts because it gives him a great sense of feeling included and it
is not even that much about ejaculate? What if that kid (or counselor) loves
the smell of campfire smoked jeans just as much as everyone else? What if a kid
DOES get aroused by another kid—which happens to most boys, naturally, sometime
between Webelo and Eagle Scout—and it ends up “being consummated?” Well,
wouldn’t a simpler rule be, “Hey, no fucking in the tents!”
And what the hell is a man and/or sexual orientation these
days, anyway, when all you see on shopping bags are the gorgeous bare tits of hot
young guys that advertisers know turn everyone on? (And why, at this point, is it at all illegal
to show female breasts? Bras on hot young women are the burkas of the last
century. Rip off those bras, girls, and let’s see those yummy mounds on every
billboard from Bangor to Death
This ancient scream of using religion as an excuse for
discrimination, the hysteria surrounding the changing idea of male identity,
the moronic stance that sexuality can be controlled by contempt and violent
rejection, is enough to make me want to help a little old lady cross a street,
Boy Scouts---we kind of know you caved under financial
pressure. Let’s face it—so many of your former members are queer, gay, bent and
bonny—and as we all know, any gay child who succeeds through the boy scouts
grows up to become extremely wealthy. You couldn’t turn your back on those
greenbacks. I applaud your passive-aggressive half measure. Pull away and let
the bigots twist and die, like slugs under a salt pile. Let those shell-less
mollusks slither to their graves, leaving a trail of hate-slime as they whither
into 2014. (I say with love.)
But onto operational problem solving:
Frankly, my memory of scout behavior is one of chaste,
incredibly dorky asexual propriety. All appearances will be maintained if
everyone just quietly keeps that up. (But let’s face it---that’s kind of hot,
Weird thing is…the scads of humans that are repulsed by
homosexuals and let their voice rip loud and clear—some of them even sentencing
gay people to death---is something that I try not to think about too much.
Of course, when I hear the “religious” freak haters, I grow
furious. But then I have other things to do. When I hear about the Eastern Hemisphere nations that throw gay people into
jails and even kill them for their simple nature, I am terrified, furious and
I used to think the look in the eyes of some gay men, you
know the look---sort of like they are recoiling from a baseball bat coming at
them—a weird frozen look of fear---well, I thought that had to do with some
soft girly whatever the hell…
But I think it is the look of alienated terror. They are
recoiling from the part of themselves that knows they are despised. That they
are targets is too much to bear, so they remove themselves, somewhat, and you
can see it in their bolting, fast, sad, darting eyes. At least the men.
Lesbians, in their alienation and fear, their eyes look more flattened out,
Of course…I am speaking in generalities and only about a
sub-group of these groups. But I do believe gay people are traumatized, still,
and they pull in. And in some, you can see it in their eyes.
Poor little dears. They must all come over, young and old,
to my house for minestrone.
I Loved Hitchcock. Thank you SAG-Aftra for the screener. A
subtle story…of Hitchcock learning to appreciate his wife while struggling to
make Psycho. I never saw Anthony
Hopkins. All I saw was this bloated, wry whack of a Hitchcock man. So
brilliant. And Helen Mirren, always good, stood up to him well.
Beautiful. And got Janet Leigh down.
I love Scarlett and want to work with her one day. Like, tomorrow?
Beautifully directed by Sacha Gervasi, you didn’t want to miss a single frame. Surprising
scenes, which is appreciated in this smart, slowly opening story. Plus, just
enough memorable references to Psycho, that you feel grounded. You root for
Psycho to be a successful movie. You root for everyone. And not because they
are such great people---but because they are flawed in a flawed world, with
their eyes wide open. (Toni Collette. How can I forget Toni Collette? The full
blown seen-it-all, do-it-all assistant-plus.)
I've just received free promotional tickets though an environmental group (Green Drinks -http://www.greendrinksnyc.com/) for a critically acclaimed environmental documentary called "Chasing Ice" that I think will prove to be an important film and an Oscar contender. Use the instructions below to get tickets for shows this weekend:
Chasing Ice is an environmental documentary film, listed in the top 15 best documentaries for the Oscars, coming to Manhattan/New York City, January 18-24!
"You've never seen images like this: it deserves to be seen and felt on the big screen." - Robert Redford
Generous support of a grant from the Kendeda Fund is allowing people to see the film for free to support education and outreach. This program features a limited number of complimentary tickets, on an invitational basis, to openings in select cities - including Manhattan/New York City!
To claim your complimentary tickets, please click on the below link and use the below group code.
Please feel free to distribute this offer to staff, students, volunteers, board members, donors, friends and family.
ABOUT THE FILM
Chasing Ice follows acclaimed photographer James Balog on an epic journey as he deploys time-lapse cameras at glaciers around the world. His hauntingly beautiful images compress years into seconds, capturing ancient mountains of ice in motion. This revolutionary imagery reveals ice disappearing at a breathtaking rate. Journeying across the brutal Arctic with a team of young adventurers, Balog risks everything to capture the biggest story facing humanity.
After premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won the award for Excellence in Cinematography, Chasing Ice has gone on to screen at more than 50 festivals around the world, winning 23 awards from international audiences, and been released nationwide in select cities. To learn more, check out www.chasingice.com and view the trailer.
I mean---wouldn’t it have been so much easier to simply
accept that award, talk about her work, keep her life private?
She sort of came out already. Why do that weird dance? It’s
like---she was pissed off that she had been forced to come out to begin with
and she was letting the world know it. But sort of people pleasing, too.
Deep down, I believe the “keeping things private” thing is a
load of hogwash. Sure, you keep your secrets about really private stuff…because
much of it is too intimate or embarrassing. But being gay is not that intimate
a subject any longer or an embarrassment. Unless, of course, it is to you. And
you are annoyed that people are putting you in a crappy position.
In my twenties, when I was sexual bait for all kinds of
genders, I knew it was a point of power to not let people know about my exact
sexuality. Because I was primarily an actor then, it was also important that I
hid the truth about my ass (I use the term as in “my being”). I used to have
horrible daydreams that I would be interviewed by Barbara Walters and she would
force me, in her B.W. way, to “Tell America what they really want to
know,” and I would get furious! Though I might have been a tad insane to even
ruminate about such a thing, I imagined she was using my “misfortune” to create
some sort of sensational segment on her show—in collusion with the homophobes
who want to see someone squirm. I was furious that Barbara took on the least
common denominator of American opinion about a subject, sat with it as if it
was hers, and then exploited it. Yes. I felt exploited.
Yeah, all that. It’s no wonder I was so tired in my
But instead, I never was interviewed by Barbara Walters and
the terrified young gay person I was, having his own regressive Walter Mitty field
day, soldiered on until it was no longer uncomfortable. It is horrible to
imagine being exposed if in the long run you imagine it will harm you.
Jodie Foster is so talented and smart and beautiful. And appears
to be a person with a lot of integrity. I think she should have passed on the half
coming out confirming thing and could have chosen to just focus on her life’s
work in her speech. By watching her behavior, the whole sexuality thing is
something she is not publicly comfortable with…the strange unfocused talking,
the repetitive nervous knocking on the dais, that she should have left it
alone. She looked scared and unhappy, roasting on a spit of terror. That does
not instill confidence in other gay people.
It is not Jodie’s job to be comfortable or uncomfortable.
But I do believe there is an art to being truthful. She stumbled with it. I so wish
her well. I wish I could calmly hold her in my lap and stroke her hair and say,
“Give Me That Hair!” No, I wish I could
stroke her head and say, “Jodie, really, it’s no big deal. You are loved. Let
it go. Sexual preference announcements are so 2011. Carry on, girl and love
yourself, fully, for who you are. That’s what we want to see.”
As it rains---and warms, the trees are going to bud. Before
Ground Hog Day. When the ground hog rears its head to look around, it will
probably screech and escape back into its hole as it will assume Armageddon has
For many days, it was as cold in Los
Angeles as it was warm in New
York. Within a degree. The lemon tree at my Los Angeles house is
dead, probably more from an iron deficiency than from the weather. I wish it
had lived. Dying by lack of iron is a long slow death. Dying by frost is zippy.
I have a book here, Cheever’s biography, given to me by
people I no longer care for. It is propping up my computer. Perhaps it is time
to spring clean it out.
Speaking of books…it is weird to be of the generation that
went from complete paper to almost entirely digital. I long for felt boards,
finger paint and craft days.
2013 is the year of Lena Dunham. I hope she is being
responsible. She is so smart and talented. I imagine she has made some ass
kicking dioramas in her life.
Less caffeine. More sleep. Less worry. More devil-may-care.
What else is there but the planet? Without it, we won’t even
have a place to experience time.
It is impossible to me that this movie was made at all. It
was so real looking, and so horrible, that I have to say: it was the best movie
I have ever seen that I wish I never saw.
When disaster films were over-the-top, fictional and
somewhat campy, you could take them. Think Poseidon
Adventure. But when you make it as real as possible, somehow, it ceases to
be entertainment and just becomes pure torture.
I applaud the movie. It was harrowing. But it was extremely
disturbing at the most basic level of survival and engaged my lizard brain a
bit too deeply. Natural random destruction (the 2004 tsunami) followed by
injuries and separation from family, then chaos with a refugee feeling followed
by possible death from infection. We screamed and cried. There is an ending
that would make you think it was worth the torture. I don’t know…
These HD televisions can be personal electronic trauma
I am not ill, though my husband is as are so many other
hacking filthy sneezers on every street corner.
I believe in flu shots and vitamins.
However---I think people are suffering from a few varieties
of cold/flu/hell right now. Poor things.
So I got to thinking about life forms that cause misery. And
really, these nasty viruses are only doing their nasty dance by accident. I
mean---by random mutations, these little beasts, which are barely animals,
cause people to sneeze and hack so they can go on living in other beasts. There
was no reason for this. It is not intelligent. It was a mistake that turned out
to cause the continuation of these things. They don’t know what they are
doing. They have no intention. They simply are. Like the lilies in the field?
Some people are freaked out by randomness. It gives me
peace. Accepting what is random is really the highest form of acceptance. And
then, there is no need to talk of God. Because when you are in that state of
full acceptance, that “God feeling” of oneness is all around you.
Frankly—there is no real argument between atheists and
God-lovers. There is only one absolute truth: We are here.
Though I have not been announcing our rejections, because, you know, that's not fun...
Here is our first acceptance, which is, of course, joyful:
BOX will be screened under the Avant-Garde Billing (oh Yes---)...on Friday, February 8, in the afternoon. 12:15 - 1:15 PM. as part of the the DAM SHORT FILM FESTIVAL in BOULDER CITY, NV. at the Boulder Theater. (Which is owned, naturally, by Desi Arnaz, Jr.)
I'm gonna go. Join me for the west coastish premier of BOX. :)