der Stadtneurotiker

baby hate

2010-06-12T19:16:00.000-07:00

I am sick of celebs and others who won't shut up about their babies, pregnancies and children. Many trot them out for photo ops and publicity, and I guess it works. I recall Maggie Gyllenhaal saying that the paparazzi were never interested in her before she became pregnant and gave birth. This baby love is infesting the culture in general, too. with baby blogs multiplying on the web. My own sister-in-law has one, with frequent updates, complete with photos and often very long written passages detailing trips to the zoo, the aquarium, the woods, etc. There was a time when boring dinner guests and others with baby pictures was considered the height of clueless, gauche behaviour, but in the age of the blog, it seems it is not so anymore. It doesn't matter that the blogs are meant for family and friends only. We need to remind breeders that their children are not special, and that the world doesn't care much about them, or revolve around them. Of course, I am largely indifferent to the charms of small children, so my opinion is somewhat biased. I don't hate children, I hate making them the focal point of everything. Some of my fondest childhood memories were just watching adults converse, and interact, often oblivious to my existence. I was acknowledged, but never allowed to dominate everything, except at maybe a birthday party or child-centric event.

suspicious

2010-06-05T16:07:00.001-07:00

I feel suspicious when people say something along the lines of "I have such a high-pressure job that when I'm not working I like to just relax and do nothing". I recently met someone who seems to have little intellectual curiosity. Seems like a nice enough guy, but objects to my constant analysis of everything and running commentary. I am not claiming to be an intellectual, BTW. This guy is always repeating that he has such a stressful, demanding job (he is a principal or perhaps vice-principal, of a private school near Montreal), that when he is not working, he just likes to relax, be with friends, and enjoy life. Somehow, this seems like a copout, a way of basically excusing his lack of depth and curiosity. My mother used childrearing as a similar excuse: I remember asking her if she remembered the Jonestown massacre, and other major events from the 70s, and she said no, she was too busy raising children, as if having small children and following current events were mutually exclusive. To me, it would have been more honest of her to say, "no, I follow current events, but only to a degree. Sometimes, my own life and that of those close to me interest me a lot more". In the same vein, I would be happier if my new friend (acquaintance?), said simply, "I am not an intellectual, I am a happy-go-lucky guy who believes that we must do our best to enjoy ourselves and not sweat the small stuff".

been a long time

2010-05-29T17:47:00.000-07:00

It's been over 4 months since my last entry, so one could consider this blog semi-abandoned. Not that anyone reads it, anyway. So I guess writing it is a somewhat selfish act, but I did enjoy receiving the one comment I received, when I mentioned a celebrity. So I guess I should mention more celebrities, if I want to build an audience, or take pictures, which I am working on. Must buy a decent camera, first. Any suggestions for brands, etc? Please, I am somewhat clueless on this front.

What else: I turned 40 last month, and have made some new friends, most of them younger than me. It is not easy, as years of mostly self-imposed solitude have made me a bit wary of others, insecure and doubtful of my social skills. But they are for the most part an interesting lot, political, articulate, and culturally literate, to boot. They also have quite the capacity for drugs and alcohol, and consume both in large amounts. And so do I when I am with them, although not as much as them. At 40, and never having been much of a substance user, I would find it hard to go too far, and am careful not to cross certain limits. Last night, for example (or perhaps I should say this morning), a GHB and MDMA binge (after a fair bit of drinking and coke snorting), quickly morphed into an orgy, but my cock wasn't into it, and I was not the least bit horny. It was a bit strange seeing everyone around me go from mellow chatter to sudden moaning, cocksucking, rimming and attempted anal sex. I went through the motions a little bit, but soon gave up, and said goodbye. Everyone seemed to think I disapproved, which is absolutely not the case. I never pass judgement on group sex, I just wasn't in the mood. Nobody there was really my type, although I had slept with 2 of the 4 guys present.

Neu Jahr debauchery

2010-01-01T20:55:00.000-08:00

So it's Jan. 1, 2010. Had an uneventful day, got up late after going out last night to G.I. Joe, a local sauna. They had the usual New Year's buffet, so I ate a lot of olives and broccoli, but my libido was not exactly in high gear. Walked around, observed a lot, including a fair bit of barebacking, which is ubiquitous in Montreal, it seems. Also more than the usual amount of fisting. Could this be a trend? If so, it's one I won't be able to participate in, having never even been successfully fucked, although I did manage a carrot once over a decade ago. Didn't have much action, overall Blew a tall, chubby guy about my age, with a big, juicy cock, who seemed to be on meth. Blew a few other guys, albeit briefly, including a thin young black guy who was clearly also on something, but probably not meth. He was getting sucked off by all and sundry, hopping from glory hole to glory hole. When I blew him, I tasted a faint bit of shit on his cock, so I hope I don't come down with etwas in the next day or two. Anyhow, got home and in bed after 7 am.

New Year's itself was uneventful. Friends away in the country for the most part. Quebecers are obsessed with the country. It's a weird nostalgia thing, I think, a longing for a simpler Eden with less consumerism and more of a sense of community. So I was at home on the phone when the hour struck.

Sitting in Cafe Depot, and they are playing cheesy dance pop, which I love. Don't recognize most of it, but heard a cover of 'Fame'.

Happy New Year to my legion of followers.

2009-12-27T14:52:00.000-08:00

I am sitting at work, and our computer system is down, so I am killing time reading and watching TV: FT and the other CTV fashion program hosted by the bland Glenn Baxter. At the moment, Jeanne Beker is interviewing Betsey Johnson, who at least has the decency to be honest about her extensive plastic surgery, (unlike, say, Sophia Loren) but is still quite ridiculous, with the cartwheels at 67, and all the forced fun and boisterousness of her shows. It looks like hard work having so much fun, especially for the poor models. Maybe I'm just being bitchy, and maybe the lightheartedness and lack of seriousness is a breath of fresh air for the models. Qui sait? Nicht ich. All I can do is speculate.
BTW, one thing that irks me: Baxter and the host of Fashion File, Adrian Mainella are unable to pronounce foreign names, which abound in the fashion industry. Azzedine Alaia, Versace, Lagerfeld, Gianfranco Ferre, Balenciaga, and those are just the easiest ones. If you host a TV show about fashion, you have to be able to get your mouth around odd-sounding names. No, the pronunciation needn't be perfect, in fact it shouldn't be, because that would sound weird, but I subscribe to Rusell Smith's suggestion that it be about halfway corrrect, at mid-point between
English and whatever the language in question.

--Just read on Wikipedia that Fashion File has been cancelled by CBC.

X-mas

2009-12-25T13:59:00.000-08:00

Well, I am having a coffee at Cafe Depot on Prince Arthur, and am supposed to head over to my pal Albert's place in Verdun in ein Paar Minuten to have a fondue dinner, but I ain't really in the mood. I would rather be alone among other people who are alone, and maybe catch a flick, which I may do later at the local multiplex. Mtl has lost most of its smaller cinemas in recent years, and unfortunately, the multiplex plays a lot of good shit. May see either A Single Man, or the new Almodovar (Broken Embraces?), or maybe An Education. Not sure. Well, gotta go.

my escorts

2009-12-23T22:14:00.000-08:00

Spent a couple of hours this evening with J. the student escort. 25 years old, OK-looking but hardly gorgeous, sweet but not particularly interesting. He is however definitely not a clock-watcher and always stays well beyond the agreed-upon time. He also tells me to call him anytime, even if it's just for a coffee, no charge. So in a way he is the least professional of the guys whose services I have paid for in the last few months. But that works in my favour, because he ends up being fairly cheap. He also chats freely about his life. No guardedness at all. I know his real name, although not his surname. I know what his major is, that he is a student at Concordia University, and were he comes from. It's flattering, because he seems to trust me, but he also seems a little naive. Unlike the other 2 guys I have seen multiple times, he is the one I could never really fall for. Not mysterious enough, not quite hot enough, either, and far too ordinary. I like to rim the other 2 guys, but could never with him. Every time I head down to his nether regions, his ass doesn't seem to smell quite clean enough, despite the fact he seems to have showered. I usually just suck him off and kiss him quite a bit. He is quite the avid kisser, which turns me on sehr viel.

2009-12-14T16:08:00.000-08:00

Spent the day indoors, basically in bed. Had a good excuse (sort of): a planned all-day water interruption in my apt. building. It was supposed to be from 9 to 5, but much to my chagrin, when I stepped into the shower, I realized there was indeed no hot water. And I have one of those showers that has no truly cold water, so when there is no hot water, a mere trickle comes out of the tap, not enough for even a cold shower, which I would have reluctantly settled for. So I waited about an hour, and then was informed by the superintendent that it would be another hour or two before hot water was restored. So, OCD notwithstanding, I sucked it up and put on some dirty clothes, washing what I could of my body: face, head, arms. cock. Ass would have been too complicated in the bathroom sink. Put on a bit of deodorant, and headed out to face the evening. Now am having a coffee at nearby Cafe Depot, and will head off to Indigo Books, to eat, ecouter de la musique, and read the latest issue of 'Bitch: feminist response to popular culture'. Have to contact my Persian rentboy and set up a 2-hour appointment for later this week.

hooker binge

2009-11-12T15:23:00.000-08:00

I am in the midst of an escort binge, having purchased the services of 6 or so in the past 5 weeks. Obviously, it is costing me a fair bit of money, but it is filling a void in my life. I can fairly easily access good anonymous sex, but if I want a bit of intimacy, or a good massage, which is the best foreplay for me, I need to pay for it. Only 2 regrets so far, and I have an appointment tomorrow at 5 with a guy who bills himself as a 22-year-old skater punk named Jackson. I am a tad concerned, and actually postponed the appointment by a day, because yesterday as I was eating some pad Thai, I bit a chunk out of the inside of my cheek. It still looks kind of sketchy, and I was concerned about sucking cock with an open sore in my mouth. I hope everything has pretty much healed by tomorrow, or I'll be sucking on latex, never a thrilling proposition.

neighbours

2009-05-12T00:25:00.000-07:00

I live in a high-rise in downtown Montreal, on the 16th floor. Despite being told no dogs were allowed when I moved in, I soon realized that nearly every fifth tenant seems to have one. Most are women of a certain age with small lapdogs, but there is an apartment on my floor, luckily at the opposite and from me, that has a small poodle, as well as a pit-bull puppy. They sometimes let the dogs run up and down the hallways, and often leave little chunks of shit on the carpet near the elevators. The tenants seem to be a middle-aged Quebecoise and her 20-something daughter, who sort of looks like a younger, francophone version of Sarah Palin, with her hair down, and a stripper accent. Yes, there is a Montreal stripper accent. I live around the corner from le Kama Sutra, a strip club, so I hear it often. You often hear it on French-language téléréalite programs like Loft Story, too. Basically, it's a working-class, suburban accent, which is hard to describe. 'J'espere' is pronounced 'J'espire', for instance, and 'mayonnaise' is 'mayonise'. The word 'dont' can never be used: it's always 'que', and 'que' should even be added where it is not necessary: example, 'quand qu'y est venu, j'y ai dit de se fermer la gueule' . Speech must be peppered with a lot of 'criss, tabarnak, ostie, and 'tse', as well... Sorry, I'm such a snob!

Mia Farrow

2009-05-10T00:13:00.000-07:00

I've been watching Mia Farrow's vlogs about her pro-Darfur hunger strike. Well, she ended the strike yesterday, but I am amazed at how good she looks on Days 9 and 10. She looks about 50, tops, when she is in fact 64. I assume she's wearing no makeup, and the vlog appears recorded on a laptop or maybe a pc, with a rudimentary webcam. Reminds me of a friend, who had Hep C and nearly died, and lost of course a lot of weight, and kept getting compliments on how good he looked.

2009-03-30T00:45:00.000-07:00

I just watched a woefully unfunny intro to Saturday Night Live. Repeat episode, with host Alec Baldwin. It first aired in February, when I was in Halifax immediately following my father's death. Continued watching, so here are some notes on the show: lame sketch with Jonas brothers, and Cougar Den is a bit disappointing, albeit with a few good lines; good joke about Helen Thomas on Weekend Update, Kenan Thmpson is a genius, with a good bit on WU, and the Sir Mix-A-Lot spoof was great, but what's with 2 Virgania Horsen's hot-air balloon sketches at the end? Must have been a technical problem, or a sketch wasn't ready.

obit obsession

2009-03-15T01:47:00.000-07:00

I am absolutely unable to stop obsessing about my father's obituary, most of which I wrote, borrowing some pre-written bits about his professional life, with the requisite architectural and urban planning jargon. Right after it was written I noticed that my brother, who wrote the final sentence, had written the name of the church, St. George's, without an apostrophe, which freaked me out. Then I started noticing my mistakes: forgetting any mention of my mother, putting the wrong preposition (in the sentence 'of immediate concern 'of' mankind': itself a ridiculous sentence), and using some over-the-top language at times. But I didn't have much time, and I was given two drafts, both of which were totally unacceptable: borderline illiterate bullshit: calling a book he wrote in 1980 a bestseller, saying he "adored cats and kids and was reduced to 'puddy' in their presence": a patent lie: my father may have liked cats, but he hadn't owned one in 24 years, and he was pretty much indifferent to children. It doesn't help that the final obit went on at such great length about his professional achievements, and then has these ridiculous errors. People tell me no one cares, but it seems to be proliferating on the web, as various professional organizations with which Dad had an association have picked it up. But try as I might, I cannot let it go; it's become a symbol of all that went wrong with his death and its immediate aftermath, all the buried family tensions, all the bullshit and hypocrisy and denial I saw around me during that week in Nova Scotia immediately after his death.

dogwalker

2009-03-10T00:26:00.001-07:00

I saw a long-time frenemy this weekend, A. the dogwalker. He lives in Ottawa, my former home, and he is a harried, insane dogwalker. Since I've known him (1991), he's been a university dropout (English lit), a hairdresser-in-training (for 2 years-kept skipping classes), a knife salesman, a student (social work, actually graduated, but then decided that dealing with other people's problems wasn't his thing), a financial planner, and then a dogwalker for about the last 3 years now. And in between all of these career changes were many bouts on welfare or unemployment, housebound with agoraphobia, and one week-long stay in a mental hospital after a very scary manic episode. Now he's 40, and obsessed as ever with his weight, aging, and his hair, which he has dyed a strange topaz colour. It had gotten longer, though, which was a definite improvement. If you're 40 and have a nice full head of hair, you might as well take advantage.

We had brunch, and he showed me the antibiotic ointment he was taking because he had gotten a bacterial infection from picking up all the bags of dogshit while out with his charges. I recoiled in disgust. As another friend says, about wanting a dog, "having to pick up shit with bags is, unfortunately, the deal breaker".

2009-02-28T23:49:00.000-08:00

So, it seems to have been nearly 2 months since my last post. Sorry. By way of explanation, let's say it's a combination of laziness, and the death 3 weeks ago of my father. He died of melanoma, had been sick for a bit over 2 months. Very quick. I was planning to visit sometime in February, but kept getting conflicting messages: he's doing well, maybe you should come soon, next week, tomorrow if you can, no, today. Call us as soon as you can, (tearfully) your father just died. Went home the night of his death, funeral plans were already underway. This was a bit of a surprise, because I was assured he wanted a religious (Greek Orthodox) funeral. A lot of stuff was decided quite hastily, by my father's galpal, without consulting my brother or me. Some of this may not have been out of malice or inconsiderateness. She is merely a bit of a madwoman who is incapable of relaxing or procrastinating. So when the doctor asked her what we wanted done with the body, she just answered no autopsy, even though she legally had little right to unilaterally make the decision. The idea of delaying a decision would be unfathomable to her. When I asked her why she didn't wait for us, she burst into tears and said she didn't know. The woman is basically an idiot, a child-woman, 60 years old and only interested in children (especially her grandkids), shopping and organizing. It is nearly impossible to have a conversation with her. While I have no doubt she really loved my father, I do doubt he loved her. He seemed to tolerate her, at best, rarely listening to her, often ignoring her, ordering her around, and sometimes quite nastily castigating her in front of us. They had little in common, but were together for nearly 27 years, which simply proves to me that its longevity should never be used to demonstrate the strength or success of a relationship. Anyway, the week in Halifax dealing with the funeral and other arrangements was sheer hell, and it's going to continue for a while. It was very much the J--- show (said galpal's name), and my brother and I felt a bit pushed to the side, which is partly understandable, as we have seldom returned home in the last 18 years or so. My honest feeling is that my father did not consider J--- and her kids to be his family, but this was the prevailing theme of the week. I didn't consider them family, despite my belief that 'blended families' can indeed work. My father's and J---'s relationship always felt tentative, not totally serious to me, and this seems borne out by the facts. His newest will (unsigned), which was done in January or so, when he knew he was probably dying, was the first in which she was mentioned as a beneficiary, and in it she is referred to as his 'friend'. He seemed to do everything possible to avoid her being considered a common-law spouse. If I were her, I might ask myself a few questions about this, but that would require a bit of self-examination, and I think her life is all activity, no reflection, definitely not the examined life. OK, so yes, there is a hell of a lot of barely suppressed anger and bitterness in all of this. If anything, it's just increased my rather cynical view of family and domesticity. And it's far from over. Much remains to be done in the coming months.

Hell is sports (hockey) fans!

2009-01-03T14:41:00.000-08:00

As I write this I am at work, trying to DO some work, and my 2 colleagues, one of whom I absolutely despise, are noisily watching the World Junior Hockey Championships on TV. It's like this fairly often at the office, usually during an NHL game. Last night, last week, sometimes I am the only one not screaming like an idiot at every goal. These are grown men, too. I have never been able to fathom sports fandom. Where I live hockey is the sport of choice, but it could be any other sport, really: soccer in much of the world, maybe cricket in India, Pakistan and the West Indies. Meanwhile, I sit in the corner, working and scowling.

famillles, je vous hais!

2008-12-28T22:57:00.000-08:00

Spent X-mas in Halifax, for the first time in 14 years. It was thoroughly unpleasant: my father is in poor health, his galpal was in a Holiday frenzy, and the city looked small and ugly, for the most part. Fought with my brother, and just felt generally on edge. I am really glad to have left. I am back in Montreal, and worried that my apartment may be infested with bedbugs. Hopefully it's just dust mites.

further to last post

2008-12-27T23:50:00.000-08:00

Follow-up to last post: forgot to mention the best part of the Marc Jacobs's interview with Chloe Sevigny. She mentioned that she used to poppers with a friend in London. This must be the first time in recent (any) memory that an American actress has admitted to consuming poppers.

Chloe Sevigny

2008-12-18T23:41:00.000-08:00

Read an interview with Chloe Sevigny today in a fashion mag, and it's nice to see she is still relatively candid and uncensored, despite more than a decade as a movie star. She managed to intelligently dis a few other celebs, including Nicole Ritchie, Fergie ( the singer), and the cast of Will and Grace, and, while gushing about how wonderful 'Big Love' is, managed to let slip that her movie career has suffered because of the tough shooting schedule. She also mentioned her publicist is often pissed off at her, and admitted to Marc Jacobs, who conducted the interview, that the reason she has been dressing more conventionally recently is that she is trying to play the Hollywood game a little bit. I also liked her bit about not having any actor friends, except for Natasha Lyonne, and trying without success to get said friends to accompany to her to various pointless Hollywood events. I was happy to see she hasn't mellowed, sold out or had her spirit crushed by the soulless H'wood PR machine, while at the same time admitting she plays the game to a degree. She also confirmed she is still one of the most film-literate young American actresses Most of the time actors cite 'their character' as their only motivation. It's all about the role, or maybe the script, at most. Rarely do they mention the director or other actors. Probably because their agent is the one that decides for them.

On another note, I head home to Halifax for X-mas tomorrow, and I am sort of dreading it. I really don't do Christmas.

2008-12-18T23:34:00.000-08:00

I was feeling a bit angry and down, after visiting my crazy friend M yesterday, when her 16-year-old nephew, whom I'd met over a decade earlier, several times, even helping babysit once, refused to come out of his room to say 'hello' to me. M was in town to take care of him while his father was out of town. He had recently moved to Mtl to live with his Dad after being expelled from school in Ottawa for dealing drugs. I remember him as a 5 or 6-year-old, but I spoke to him briefly on the phone, and he sounded decent enough, so I could only feel offended and hurt that he wouldn't come out of his room ONCE for the 2.5 hours I spent in the apartment. I guess it upsets my need to see myself as pretty cool for a 38-year-old, someone a teenager would naturally want to hang out with.

2008-12-18T23:06:00.000-08:00

Saw 'Cassandra's Dream' tonight at Cinema du Parc: a disappointment, it felt rushed and too plot-driven, with little exploration of the brothers' motives, except in the most superficial way: they were aspirational and ambitious, OK. Also, while Colin Farrell, Ewan McGregor and Tom Wilkinson were all competent, especially Farrell, some of the secondary characters felt 2-dimensional: especially Kate, Farrell's girlfriend. Am still an unconditional fan of Woody's, but I think he should make fewer movies, and this London venture feels played out. In this film, he seemed to be out of his element. Allen feels too besotted and impressed with the Brits, a bit in awe of them, which translates into too much fancy name-dropping: Claridge's, the Connaught, images of the Gherkin. It all feels too post-cardy. His New York films are also somewhat unrealistic, or were in the past, with little real grit, but when he sticks to the milieu he knows best: neurotic Upper West Side Jews, the results seem more believable. I'm glad his next movie, 'Whatever Works', with Larry David and Evan Rachel Wood, is set back in NYC.

2008-11-19T00:02:00.001-08:00

It is 3 am, and I am wide awake, having indulged in my recent bad habit of sleeping all day: got out of bed at 7 pm! Well, I am a bit broke, so I could use it as an excuse to save a bit of cash: fewer hours out of bed, less money spent! A bit self-justifying. Anyway, got out of bed, showered, biked to Cafe Depot, ate, had coffee, continued to Paragraphe books, read NY Times, Globe and Mail, saw the same forlorn, homeless guy I see there all the time, with whom I once had a very brief encounter (about a minute) at the 456 Sauna, probably 7 or 8 years ago. Left at closing time, chatted with frenemy Travis on the phone, our first vocal contact in about 6 weeks. I had been trying to avoid him, and mulling over whether, or how best to, dump him by e-mail. A few weeks with no contact made me a bit more generous and forgiving, but our conversation today reminded me it may truly be necessary to dump him, unless our friendship can remain really back-burner. He yammered on about himself, his classes, his plans for school next year, and started yawning as soon as I started speaking. I guess if someone is truly fascinating and interesting, I don't mind playing second-fiddle, but it's not the case with him. He truly needs to learn that just because something happened to him, doesn't make it interesting. I also wonder sometimes if the fact that he speaks so slowly is a problem for me, a fast-talker who liked to digress a lot. Maybe I need to talk to other fast-talkers to remain interested in the conversation. Anyway, left the bookstore, began to bike home, and as I crossed on the green light on McGill College heading east along Sherbrooke, a fancy car turning left on Sherbrooke onto McGill refused to yield to me, which they're supposed to do. I kept advancing, until it became clear he wasn't going to stop. I started yelling at the 2 Middle-Eastern-looking douchebags I could see through the tinted windows, and actually began to give chase, but my shoelace got stuck in my pedal, and so I could only roll down the hill. They got all the lights, so it was hopeless, but I continued for a few blocks, even stopping to rip out my shoelace. I was high on the prospect of pulling up next to them and calling them "motherfucking, moronic little shitheads", something I have done to a few wayward drivers in the past year or two. What can I say? My patience for obnoxious, careless drivers has reached its limit. Of course, I obsessed over the incident for the rest of the night, wishing I had had a burger, a drink, or even a key in my hand, and had been able to either throw the food, or scratch the car with the key. At the moment the car passed, I briefly thought of kicking it, but my lace caught at just the wrong moment, and the car was probably moving too fast anyway. But just thinking of it right now fills me with rage, so I'd better sign off.

2008-11-18T00:26:00.000-08:00

It has been just about a month exactly since my last post, not a good record at all. My laziness and lack of discipline get the better of me sometimes. One look at my clutter-filled apartment, in which the kitchen sink and counter are fast being overtaken by recyclable juice cartons, cans and bottles, and the floor by newspapers, is confirmation enough. I should be doing my German homework now, but there are just too many distractions. Went to Toronto a couple of weeks ago, saw 'Boxhead' at Buddies in Bad Times. So-so, not great. Stayed with frenemy Doug, who is as spaced out as ever. And for a child psychologist, he doesn't seem too good with kids. We both gave out candy on halloween night, and he was somewhat robotic, saying the same thing every time a couple of costumed kids arrived: "Hello, trick or treaters, here's some candy", and not much else. I am not at all a kid person, but I at least asked them what they were supposed to be and engaged in a little banter.

Also, in my 4 days there, I went 5 times to a total of 3 different bathhouses, Steamworks 3 times, Club Toronto once, and Spa X-cess once as well. Steamworks had a druggy, methy vibe, but still somewhat mainstream, whereas Club Toronto seems to always have a high hustler contingent, which can be interesting. At one point I saw a 30-ish dwarf arrive with a 6-foot-ish junkie hustler. They disappeared into a room for a while, so who knows what went down in there, but I sure would have liked to watch. At Steamworks, it was a veritable big black dick fest, while Spa X-cess seemed to have a large Asian population, which interested me less. Steamworks seemed a bit more Afro-Canuck, far more to my taste. I know, it's a cliche, bus so friggin what. Anyway, with so many trips to saunas, by the time I left my skin was totally dried out, especially my face, what with the average minimum 5 showers I had been taking daily. On the train home, I could barely open my mouth to eat, as every time I did the skin would crack painfully. The occupational hazards of promiscuity.

neighbours

2008-10-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I heard a bit of door-slamming at between about 10 am and 10:45. It all seemed to be emanating from the apartment next door. Reasonably certain of this, I decided to take action. I headed over, knocked on the door. The 30-ish woman who I had only once met, in similar circumstances, answered, looking as if she had just been awakened. I asked her politely but firmly if she had just slammed the door several times. She shook her head 'no', and I asked her if I had woken her up. She nodded her head, I apologized, telling her to go back to bed. So now she probably thinks I'm nuts. Perhaps as karma, today, from about 10 am, I heard a lot of furniture-moving and unidentifiable banging, which lasted until I got up, at about 2:30. I couldn't tell if it was coming from her apartment, or from upstairs. It is not easy to know in my building. At one point, half asleep, I banged on her wall 3 times, hoping for results.

telefono

2008-10-13T23:20:00.000-07:00

I have been without a phone since August 20, a situation I admit to partly enjoying. I cancelled my cellphone account, which my mother was paying for, because it was no longer fair at my age for her to be footing the bill, and also because I hadn't actually had a physical phone for nearly 2 years, after I spilled water on it in Dec of 2006. My provider, Telus, wanted me to pay about $70 for a new battery, and there was no guarantee that the battery was the only problem. It would have cost me more I think for an assessment, so I stalled, telling myself I would look for another provider, which I couldn't really muster up the strength to do, as I can imagine few less interesting activities. So for a while I really only had voice mail, which was tolerable, and gave me the power to contact people when I wanted, and remain relatively unreachable myself. But now, sans phone, things are not so bad, but I am starting to feel the inconvenience, especially since I desperately want to look for another job, and can't really do that without a phone number. Maybe a pager would do. I'd be content with a land line, as a cellphone is not really something I particularly need. We'll see

2008-10-13T23:10:00.000-07:00

Dealt with the crabs, at least phase one. Must do another treatment in a few days: phase 2. Of course, it was a royal pain, having to launder all my sheets and clothing, as well as my futon cover, which I have washed maybe 3 times since I have owned the damn bed. It is a royal pain getting it back on, seriously takes about a half hour of strenuous struggle.

It was Black and Blue went to a couple of saunas, and witnessed much unsafe sex. At one point, as I stood watching a tall German fuck a Latino guy sans condom, a Chilean guy turned to me and asked in a whisper if nobody here used condoms. I discreetly answered that it does seem to be a problem, especially since there are free ones all over Montreal saunas, and he replied that in his country everyone uses them, even though you always have to buy them.

I am feeling mildly depressed, worrying about the near impossibility of effective verbal communication. It seems that no one listens attentively anymore, including myself. Did anyone ever? How should I know? Hope I don't get crabs again from my recent bathhouse forays.

crabs

2008-09-22T01:21:00.000-07:00

Am feeling like I may have crabs. I'm itching, and see what may be unhatched insects on my body hair. I have had them several times before, but it's been a few years. Not fun, will have to buy kwellada and wash my bedding, all my clothes, spray things, etc. I guess it will be a few days before I know for sure.

2008-09-03T23:59:00.000-07:00

What's new? Had a bad fight with my mother on the phone 2 days ago. Won't go into details, but I said some things, not 'things I didn't mean' ( in the words of Lisa Stansfield). but just the opposite, things I did mean, but never say, to spare her feelings. They were not taken well, even though they were pretty mild in my opinion. It just makes me realize an actual honest conversation with her is pretty well impossible. This could be the beginning of a long estrangement, which sort of seemed inevitable, anyhow.

What else? Have been bicycling up Mount Royal a lot lately: twice a week, maybe. It gets a bit easier every time, and I feel like I'm finally losing some weight. I may look like a bear, but it's not something I ever aspired to, although it does get me some action, more so than if I were just fat and blond, with no body hair. It helps being bald, chubby (5 ft 8, 200 lbs), and hairy, with Mediterranean looks.

And speaking of action, had an encounter not long ago with a Kurdish Turk I had done once before, about 5 years ago. Both times in bathhouses. Anyhow, this time I wasn't that into it, but I let him rim me. Only problem, I had had a bit of diarrhea that day. No, nothing too gross happened, but I was worried, as my bowels were feeling a bit volatile, and shitting in someone's face would be about the worst thing that could happen to someone. So, anyway, things started smelling a bit foul, but only just a bit, and he was really getting into it, tonguing my ass with fervour and enthusiasm. The smell remained subtle, but unmistakable, and I could see what seemed to be slightly brown drops on the sheet. I couldn't take it anymore, but he came, and I left, but not before catching a glimpse his literally shit-eating grin. Actually, I suspect it was a very small amount, and I couldn't be sure if the brownish tinge to his face was real, or just a trick of the light. I left quickly, not wanting to find out. But in a Seinfeldian final twist, as I was showering a few minutes later, I saw the Kurd come downstairs, and go to the sink, and very rapidly rinse off his face with a bit of soap, for maybe all of 30 seconds. Then he disappeared up to his room, and as I was drying myself off a couple of minutes later, I saw him come downstairs fully clothed, and leave. Now, there is only one shower area in this particular sauna (the 456), so I was quite revolted that he didn't even take one before leaving, especially after our less-than sterile encounter. If I ever see him again, or get to know him socially, I will not be able to get this out of my head

the Underminer

2008-09-01T00:50:00.000-07:00

Frenemy A.L. from Ottawa is in town for the weekend. He is quite agoraphobic, and ever the underminer, especially when outside of his hotel room. Denigrates me and others when he feels vulnerable and insecure, still diagnosing and pathologizing everyone around him, refusing to take responsibility for his failure at virtually everything he has attempted: literature student, hairdresser, social worker, financial adviser, and now dogwalker. Refers to himself as an entrepreneur, but even the term 'dilettante' is too generous. He needs constant reassurance that he doesn't look 40, that he seems saner than before, bla, bla, bla. I can't say he's much worse off. More a broken record, but I suppose being 40, rather than 28 and in his state of permanent inertia could be seen as a turn for the worse.

Am listening to 'This Boy's in Love', by the Presets. Quite good.

Mother and stepfather were in town on Friday. We met after work, walked to 'l'Express' for dinner. Bad service, Mom announced as we began the walk that she was probably going to trip, which of course she did about 2 minutes later, landing hands-first on the sidewalk. I barely reacted, simply saying 'Mom', in a really disdainful way, and barely responding. Ted was much more helpful. I don't care, I am totally put off by her extreme clumsiness, which I attribute to her increasing distractedness and extreme nervousness. I still remember our huge argument last year in NYC, when I blew up at her after about the tenth time she stumbled and landed on me. When I suggest she should maybe see a doctor, she gets testy. And her main excuse is that she likes to look at the architecture and scenery, as if that and walking are mutually exclusive. She always has at least one major bruise on her body, usually the result of a fall. She has to do something, or risk possible serious injury. Either deal with the problem or reduce activities. But I would be insincere to suggest I am concerned, as I personally doubt it's medical at all. I think it's part of her helpless child act, acting like a distracted idiot and letting others do the thinking and handle the logistics, but that it's getting worse with age, and manifesting more as physical clumsiness than in the past.

more bad Montreal English

2008-08-24T22:29:00.000-07:00

I was at work today, listening to the godawful 'Ric Peterson Show' on CJAD radio, an embarassment, even for talk radio. Newsreader Kathy Coulombe said ' predictament' the other day, and trust me, that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Anyhow, I get paid to listen to the station. Trust me, it's not a choice. Chris Dimakos was discussing legal matters, and said 'with regards to', which drives me mad. What's wrong with 'about', or, if you insist, with regard to, or regarding. But 'with regards to' is just clunky and inelegant... and then there is local CBC radio, with faux-anglophone Melissa Kent, who, despite her name, obviously speaks little to no English off the job. Like Catou MacKinnon in Quebec City, her pronunciation is good, but her delivery completely lacks any rhythm or flow. Every syllable is stressed identically, and the result is robotic. It's an interesting phenomenon here, you get people with maybe one anglophone parent, and a totally anglophone name, but who probably went to French school, which is totally Ok, but I'm often taken aback by how unusual it is to encounter a Montrealer who speaks both French AND English flawlessly, something one does find in Ottawa, for instance. I hope it is obvious that I am speaking here about people one would expect to be perfectly bilingual, i.e. either those with Anglophone parents and who attended French schools, or grew up in Montreal, or those with one Anglophone parent, the other either Anglo or Allophone, and who went to either French or English schools, but also grew up here. I'm not talking about Francophones who grew up here, although I would expect a certain amount of ease and proficiency in English from them, because of both the easy access to Anglophone pop culture and media, and simple curiosity, especially considering the Dutch and Swedes, who are far more geographically removed from any Anglophone regions, are almost universally fluent in English, and in the case of the Dutch, often have only the slightest hint of an accent: Famke Janssen and Karen Mulder, anyone?

The brilliance of 'Seinfeld'

2008-08-17T23:30:00.000-07:00

I am a huge fan of 'Seinfeld'. In fact, it sometimes seems like the only TV show that matters. (has mattered). I love how it focuses on certain details (the meaning of 'can't see the forest for the trees, for example), and its smart but somewhat absurd cultural references (Susan's father's love letters from John Cheever, or J. Peterman, or any number of other examples I can't think of at the moment). Even the English Patient episode, while it maybe took the joke a bit too far, still made a funny point about what Manny Farber called white-elephant art.

On the other end of the pleasure spectrum, I loathe 'TMZ', the tv show, for its sheer dumbness and faux-irreverence, when it's pretty obvious that all the losers on the program are absolutely in thrall to the flibbertigibbets that are their bread and butter, and that they, a la Perez Hilton, really just want to be as close to the flame as they can get. Following assholes like Chad Michael Murray around all night sounds like my idea of hell. Actually the show would be entertaining if they ditched the contrived 'behind the scenes' staff scrums where everyone has to say "Ok, I got Michael Hasselhoff, and he's coming out of Hyde, with a gorgeous blonde on his arm, and she's like half his age, and he's seemin' like he's maybe knocked back a few, even though, like, he's supposed to have been through rehab, etc, etc, etc", as well as the lame voice-overs and stabs at humour. It's celebrity journalism for dummies, featuring hacks. For high-end gossip, Gawker or the NY Observer are far superior.

Pride

2008-08-04T00:50:00.000-07:00

Well, Divers-Cite, Montreal's version of Gay Pride, just ended. Sort of dipped my foot into the fray, without getting fully immersed. Doug from Toronto was in town, spent some time with him. Worked today, so wasn't able to partake. Did go to the Oasis bathhouse Thursday and Saturday nights, but had no luck. I usually don't there. I'm a bit too bearish, I guess, but things were hopping, especially Saturday night. Unfortunately, I witnessed some major barebacking. Stood right next to a sling where some young guy was getting fucked by a 40-ish guy I often see buggering willing bottoms (and I suspect bareback, most of the time). And tomorrow, my brother, his wife, their 2 young kids, my father, and his galpal are in town, and thus begins some major familial stress.

Daniel Nardicio

2008-07-29T23:58:00.000-07:00

Just finished watching a video of a kangaroo attacking a woman on CNN. There is something inherently hilarious about images of kangaroos beating people up. Am listening to Taylor Dayne's 'Tell it to my Heart' after she was mentioned on Daniel Nardicio's podcast. Love listening to him and his guests. They have the conversations I want to be having, but am not, since, to quote George Costanza, "my whole life is a lie". Have recently seen a batch of 'friends' whom I, without exception, either loathe or at least dislike. In one case, what began as indifference is morphing into hatred, as I increasingly resent the soul-sucking toll that contact with him inevitable takes on my life. In another case, A. from NYC is showing himself to be quite honestly a gay man in his later 30's with the mind of a not particularly precocious tween girl. And yet I plod on, unable to say 'get lost', or at least 'it's not you, it's me'. And Pride approaches, and I have several family members coming for a visit, including my brother, his wife, and there 2 young kids. I should give up on the human race, or at least find some pop-cultural literate, but also not vacuous people who aren't complete morons. Do they even exist?

On another note, am disappointed that I missed 'Mr. Lonely' this past week. Now it's all gone, and I will probably have to await the DVD release.

David Sedaris

2008-07-13T22:48:00.001-07:00

I saw him do an appearance and signing today at Indigo Books. He was quite funny, of course, but I opted not to get a book signed. Was gonna mention OCD, and ask him how he deals with it, but I chickened out, imagining the question not being well received. He was also interviewed by the moron Dave Bronstetter on CBC radio this morning. Dave was audibly uncomfortable with Sedaris's somewhat morbid humour.

JustinTrudeau

2008-07-09T22:02:00.000-07:00

I went to see the movie 'Stellet Licht', by Carlos Reygadas, at the cinema du Parc this evening. I had quite liked Reygadas previous (first?) movie, 'Battle in Heaven', and the setting in a Mennonite community in Mexico was intriguing. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a slow burn, and my mind wandered a lot, until maybe the final half-hour, bu the ending was awesome. It also co-starred Manitoban author Miriam Toews. So overall, on the boring side, but culminated in a good ending. But of course the couple in the row behind me fidgeted a lot, and the woman seemed to constantly be rifling through her bag, opening packages of food, a can of pop at one point, although she did apologize once. Anyhow, the movie ended, and as I left the theatre, I saw her walking toward her waiting boyfriend, who somehow looked familiar. I walked toward them, with the intention of telling them to leave the picnic home next time, but then suddenly I realized that she was Sophie Gregoire, and noticed seconds later that HE was Justin Trudeau. I stopped in my tracks, and considered telling them off anyway, but then thought better of it.

Diana Rigg

2008-07-07T23:14:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading an excellent interview in the Telegraph with Diana Rigg, who says the Avengers bores her, adding it was only a 2-year stint, and something she hardly wants to define her career. She is, like Vanessa Redgrave, a keen fly-fisher, as well. Quite a contrast to, say, Joan Collins, who seems to have nothing interesting to say, but has the redeeming quality of being camp personified. Also saw pics online of Vanessa Redgrave (somewhat camp in her own right), with daughter and granddaughter, at the Wimbledon luncheon, dressed herself like a 1930's tennis player (Bill Tilden?).

The second heat wave of the year has arrived. We had a minor one in early June, with temperatures of 30 or slightly more for a couple of days, but tomorrow promises to be a scorcher of 32 humid degrees. I despise the heat, almost as much as I do the cold.

new neighbours (neighbors for the yanks)

2008-07-04T23:28:00.000-07:00

I have worked full-time for the past 2 weeks, and have a 4-day week ahead of me, before I get a bit of a respite, and I am feeling the stress, paranoia, urge to wash my hands, etc. And to top it off, my new next-door neighbour, a young woman (and perhaps her boyfriend) seems to be a bit of a doorslammer. I asked her politely a few days ago to try to close the door quietly, and she seemed nice enough about it, apologized also. But last night I was home watching movies, and heard the door sort-of-slam a few times around 3 am. I opened my door, and saw a couple of people heading down the hall with their bikes. I heard voices in the hall as well. Then I could hear very faint voices through my wall (which is pretty soundproof), but when I again poked my head into the hallway, I could hear a male and female voice speaking quite loudly from within the apartment, laughing, chatting in a somewhat drunken manner. It was a Thursday night, and to be fair, she (or they) have only been there about a week or 10 days, so it may be a bit premature for me to freak out, but alas, that is my tendency. I'm just hoping it's not a sign of things to come. I wish they had rented the place to a female nerd with no friends.

Stay home for a night.. or three!

2008-06-28T22:10:00.000-07:00

I am quite sure I am not the only one noticing lately how overexposed certain minor celebrities are at the present moment. And no, I'm not talking about the obvious ones: Britney, Paris, Brangelina. I am thinking, rather, of those minor socialites-cum-actresses who are photographed multiple times in every issue of In Style mag (Kerry Washington, Angie Harmon), and seem to do far more going out than acting. Kerry Washington is a particularly egregious example, at the moment, often spewing out banalities about her favourite spa. or skin care products. I guess I expected better of her, based on some of her early work. I can't say I am too surprised by Angie Harmon, though. She did marry a football player. Other offenders: Melissa Joan Hart, Sheryl Crow, and for the guys, Mario Lopez is in a category of his own of sheer unrivalled cheesiness.

2008-06-25T22:08:00.001-07:00

Well, asked Sylvie, who works in the rental office of my apartment building, and she told me that because of a policy forbidding tenants to move to another apartment of the same size once a lease has been renewed, I won't be able to move for at least a year. Bummer. I noticed yet another vacant studio on my floor alone, and was getting excited by the idea of a new place, but no such luck. She's a scary broad, that Sylvie, makes me nervous. A bit of a Virago, but not a shrew, like my coworker Karine, who has a voice that could peel wallpaper or break glass if she put her mind to it.

Watched Bergman's 'Autumn Sonata' last night, trying in vain to see echoes of my own relationship with my mother, but Mom's no Ingrid Bergman, although she is a bad listener, like Ingrid's character. Actually, my father's a lot closer to her: an emotional cripple. My mother's more of an intellectual cripple, I guess. That's maybe a bit harsh, but has some truth to it.

Also watched the first half of 'This Sporting Life', starring Richard Harris. Have to go home and watch the second half, now. Quite good, lots of subliminal homoeroticism, bare-ass shots, etc. Directed by Lindsay Anderson, who was gay, and apparently infatuated with Harris during the shoot.

2008-06-23T22:15:00.001-07:00

I have recently learned from news reports that the rental vacancy rate in Montreal is high enough that landlords are offering incentives such as a month of free rent to woo prospective tenants. Of course, I immediately began to regret renewing my current lease. While my apartment is ideally situated, and the building OK, with a pool and gym, as well as rooftop terrace, I pay $605 ($610 after September) for a 16th floor studio with one window, no balcony, and a view mainly of the high-rise next door. By Montreal standards, this is somewhat pricey, but there was a real shortage of rental units a few years ago, and I have fresh memories of near-homelessness on a couple of occasions, as well as 2 months spent living in the downtown YMCA (now demolished) in the Fall of 2000, where I was stuck on a floorful of refugees (not that there's anything wrong with refugees) awaiting housing, with a decrepit communal bathroom on the floor, at night the sound of what I thought was rain outside my window, only to learn it was other residents pissing from their windows in the middle of the night. I was damn near hit in the head a couple of times. When I looked down into the courtyard in the morning, it was littered with garbage, including but not limited to water bottles filled with urine. I mean, the rooms didn't even have a sink to piss in. And everytime you left your room, you had to take 2 keys, one for the room, the other for the bathroom. The room doors swung shut, behind you, and locked automatically. So if you didn't have your key, you had to go downstairs and have a handyman let you back in. Also, I was on the sixth or eigth floor, but the stairs were not accessible, so you had to take the elevators, which took absolutely forever.

So, suffice it to say, experiences like this have left me extremely cautious and wary of the whole process of moving and finding an apartment. Perhaps a bit too cautious and wary. But it makes sense, when you consider that it took me over a year of fairly active searching before I found my current pad, after living in a shoebox with a communal shower shared by everyone on the floor (albeit with my own toilet and sink). But I do wonder if I could use the current situation as leverage and try to upgrade within the same building: move to another unit, perhaps one with a balcony or a better view, for the same price or maybe slightly more. I know the apartment next to me, also a studio, is vacant, and while it has no balcony either, it is wider than mine, which is long but narrow, and it has a better view, but less closet-space. Then again, while I gripe about closet space, as my good pal Albert pointed out, most of my belongings are in boxes or on my floor at the moment, and have been since I moved in 19 months ago, and there is no reason to believe I am suddenly going to become more organized in a new apartment. But part of me also wonders if I just want to change units because I have never cleaned my apartment, which is now getting pretty dusty, and the one next to me is freshly renovated.

guilty pleasure

2008-06-22T02:01:00.000-07:00

Am currently watching Kid Rock's new video sampling 'Sweet Home Alabama' and have to admit I kind of like it. Also discovered a good blog, 'The Gay Recluse'.

apology

2008-06-20T23:22:00.000-07:00

Man, I just reread the previous post, and that lame attempt at humour 'nuttin' wrong with a little bit of Ernestine' has me wincing. Sorry, if anyone ever reads this!

Shortbus

2008-06-20T23:07:00.001-07:00

Saw the movie 'Shortbus' for the second time, first time on DVD. Loved it again, even though there are some iffy moment, it still provides one of the most astute examinations of contemporary relationships I've possibly ever seen in a film, and while it threatens occasionally to delve into hippie ickiness, it is always redeemed by some humour before things get too earnest. And there ain't nuttin' wrong with a bit of Ernestine once in a while. Sook-Yin Lee is a brilliant comic actress, she could easily be the next Woody Allen heroine: a Diane Keaton for our times. And the audio commentary is priceless. It seems to me that there is a real dearth of self-deprecating funny women out there at the moment. Female comics are supposed to be a bit too indomitable. Maybe it's time for another Phyllis Diller. Also, according to John Cameron Mitchell, the sex scenes weren't supposed to be a turn-on, but they end up being one, anyway. And on a final note, I can really relate to the numbness and inability to feel and have meaningful interactions felt by Jamie (Paul Dawson) and Severin.

The Lost Boy

2008-06-18T00:30:00.000-07:00

If I were tech-savvy I would try to post pics and link to articles, other blogs, etc. But I ain't, so I will simply mention, in the off-chance anyone should ever even read this, another blog I find sehr interessant ces jours-ci: The Lost Boy, by a guy named Peter Knegt, a young gay film buff and apparently the go-getter I could never be, who seems to have just completed a master's, and also covers film festivals for indiewire. Worth a look... Charlene Johnson, creator of Turbo Jam, is now on a TV screen in front of me, and her moronic kickboxing / aerobics infomercial is exhausting me. Must shove off.

Spring arrives in northern Lapland

2008-06-18T00:24:00.000-07:00

Just did one of my periodic verifications of Scandinavian traffic webcams, and am glad to see that the snow has finally melted in northern Lapland, and the ice gone as well. I checked less than 2 weeks ago, and there was leftover or fresh snow in some spots, and ice on rivers and lakes (thin ice).

Fringe fest

2008-06-17T21:52:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a one-man show at the Fringe festival, called 'Between Takeoff and Landing', by a guy named Michael Walsh, about his experience being rerouted to Gander while flying from Dublin to NYC on September 11, 2001. It was good, athough my mind wandered once or twice. Still, he played multiple characters, and quite well, and for the most part got the accents, except that his Newfie accent was a bit too Irish, although I know it's not an easy one to pull off. At least he made the 'an' sound, as in Gander, or man, sound kind of American and drawn out, and got the short 'O' right: Newfies pronounce 'hot' or 'Tom' like 'haht' or Tahm', as do Cape Bretoners, more like Americans than Canadians, who for the most part tend to be midway between British and American pronunciation on the 'O', at least. Sort of Brit pronunciation, but more drawn out, like the Yanks: 'hoht' or 'Tohm', I guess.

Anyhow, saw the show, then headed to work, where I am now, typing away. Hated coworker Julien was here, ignored my arrival, and of course played Radiohead at his desk. I am starting to feel that someone has to lampoon not Radiohead itself, but the cult and aura that surround the band, and the tediousness of its fans, sorta the way Kids in the Hall did for 'Doors fans'. It seems to be mainly straight, pseudo-intellectual young male students who love Radiohead. I can't say I'm a fan. Definitely candidates for the academy of the overrated.

childhood friend

2008-06-16T00:08:00.000-07:00

Perused internet sites of my childhood friend Eric from back in Halifax. He is a self-made millionaire, entrepreneur, motivational speaker, photographer, etc. etc. Offers adventure travel tours, seminars on leadership, business success, relationships, and seems creepy but maybe a bit vulnerable, at least on his unwittingly hilarious youtube clips that look like something out of Saturday Night Live. And he speaks in an odd, twangy American accent, despite being from Halifax, having Afrikaaner parents, and seemingly having lived most of his adult life in England and Canada. Still, he was a really great friend from the day we crashed bikes when I was six, to about the age of 12. And I loved his parents, his dry-wiited deadpan mother, and his father, who was always calling me 'the intellectual', because at 9 I loved talking about the Iranian Revolution with him, or saying to me 'beware of Greeks bearing gifts' because of my partial Greek heritage.

Ottawa and debauchery

2008-06-15T23:53:00.000-07:00

As I said in my last post, I spent several days visiting family and friends in my former home of Ottawa. Saw a lot of people in 4 days, a couple of whom I hadn't seen in years. Had dinner at the National Arts Centre restaurant with mother and stepdad, hung out at home, rode stepdad's bike. Saw a friend I hadn't seen in over a decade, Christopher D., who now works as a curatorial assistant at the National Gallery, and he gave me a free pass, so I saw the exhibition on 'The New Man', of the 1930's, which was quite good, as well as some contemporary video art, including a couple of pieces by the elusive Benny Nemerofsky Ramsay. Went to 'Steamworks' bathhouse on my final night, and it was not particularly busy, but had some fun with an OK-looking middle-aged guy who, to my surprise, offered me some coke. I ended up doing about 5 lines over the course of maybe 3 hours, something I hadn't done in years. At one point, 2 really hot guys in their early 20's arrived and got it on right in front of me in the dry sauna. One of them said he was from Halifax. And in the same vein, 2 nights ago, went to G.I. Joe here in Montreal, and saw a guy get fisted on a sling. The fister had his hand inside, about 3 or 4 inches from the elbow. Now I had seen fisting on film, and in that very same bathhouse before, and have to admit it is absolutely not a turn-on for me. But of course, as with a car wreck, I felt compelled to observe, at least for a minute or two.

OCD maneuvers

2008-06-15T23:40:00.000-07:00

Just returned to Mtl after several days in Ottawa, usually a very stressful experience owing to the exacerbation of my OCD which always accompanies a visit chez ma mere. But now I have a system: basically, I wore a pair of old shoes that need to be thrown out, and took my stuff in an old backback that can also be discarded, and upon my return, I wash all my identification, bank card, keys, toothbrush, etc, chuck the shoes and bag, shower, and re-enter the clean zone of my normal life. I've been back 2 days, and have yet to do so, as it is always good to have a couple of days in the so-called 'dirty zone', when I am hardly as vigilant about keeping germ-free, when I return home. Went to a couple of bathouses, and didn't have to worry about showering thoroughly at the end (I instead took a shower that a normal person would take: 5 minutes or so) . The only drawback is that when I enter my apartment, I have to remain in the corner by the door, take off all my clothes, leave them in a pile in the corner, put on flipflops to cover my 'dirty' feet, and immediately jump into the shower, after which I can freely enter the 'clean zone' of the rest of my apartment, sort of a separate dimension, and sleep in my 'clean' bed. When I get up, I remain 'clean' until I reach the corner, get dressed, and leave, always careful to touch the interior doorknobs in specific spots only. I will leave the clothes in the corner, until I can launder them, and then will 'decontaminate' that corner. Unfortunately, after I reenter the 'clean zone', my stress levels also increase. But that is the burden I must bear.

things I can't stand today

2008-06-08T23:15:00.001-07:00

I have in the past couple of days heard 2 interviews with Adam Leith Gollner on CBC radio, and while he sounds like a sehr interessante bloke, having penned some O.K. pieces in Vice and other mags, this new book about fruit just sounds tedious. I loathe food writing, cannot think of a more stultifying subject. I am particulary perturbed because of the damned hypertrendiness of food writing. Taras Grescoe, another Mtl writer I admire, who wrote the brilliant 'Sacre Blues', a fascinating look at Quebec culture and recent history, has also recently written 2 books about food. Are they cashing in, or are they genuinely interested in food? I myself am interested in a lot of weird stuff, but food is right up there with interior design as a topic to be avoided at all cost by writers and intelligent people. I strongly believe food should be eaten, but never discussed. What else? Am also hating the formula 1 Canadian Grand Prix, which just wrapped up here. My downtown neighbourhood was overtaken by Eurotrash, American Ginos, bimbos, and Ferraris, although I got some free anti-wrinkle cream and chocolate at the huge Garnier tent that had been set up in a parking lot on St. Lawrence Boulevard, which was a plus. Am also hating Mariah Carey's infantilism. I have been working all weekend, and TV screens dominate my workplace, many of them mutely tuned to Musique Plus, the French-language version of Muchmusic, itself Canada's answer to MTV, albeit with less reality TV, and more music videos, so sort of like MTV 15 years ago, I guess. Anyhow, the latest Mariah Carey video has been playing, in which she is seen dressed like a sexy schoolgirl, lying in bed writing in her diary, and hopping onto private planes with Nick Cannon, etc. It's funny that her take on sexiness has always been this Lolita version, kneesocks, hot pants, finger suggestively in moutn, and girly waves goodbye: holding her hand up, and fluttering her fingers just so. There is just nothing womanly about her, despite the fact that she is 38, 2 years older than the age at which Marilyn Monroe killed herself...

neighbour noise

2008-06-02T01:15:00.001-07:00

It was a noisy weekend in me building, with banging noises coming from the apartment next door, beginning Saturday morn at about 10 am, and Sunday at about 7 am. It sounded like someone using duct tape to wrap up boxes, and after an encounter with the super, I learned that the neighbour (a dykey black woman) had indeed moved out, and that they were going to renovate the unit, which means being awakened by awful drilling and hammering noises for several days. Hopefully they won't start until next week, when I will be in Ottawa for a visit, or the week after, when I may go to Toronto.

The Walker

2008-05-31T22:52:00.000-07:00

Saw Paul Schrader's 'The Walker', starring Woody Harrelson, Lauren Bacall, Lily Tomlin, Moritz Bleibtreu and Kristin Scott Thomas the night before last. It didn't get much of a theatrical release, and I can sort of see why. Interesting premise: Harrelson plays an urbane, witty gay man who escorts rich Washington wives to social functions their husbands don't want to attend, or a 'walker', and, in sort of an update to 'American Gigolo', is suspected of a murder he didn't commit, but refuses to divulge incriminating evidence against one of his society lady friends, played by Scott Thomas, which would basically clear him. But Harrelson's performance is a weird misfire, and he seems to be channeling both Gore Vidal AND Truman Capote, and his appearance is nothing short of ludicrous, with an obvious wig and 70'S moustache totally at odds with the film's contemporary, Washington setting. He looks like a very early-80's porn star, with a bit of Matthew McConaughey from 'Dazed and Confused' thrown. Also, many of his bon mots and witticisms are too tame to warrant the shocked and amused reactions they provoke. Lauren Bacall was the best part of the movie, and I would have liked to see a bit more of Lily Tomlin. I wonder if she threw any tantrums during the making of the movie. Mary Beth Hurt made her obligatory cameo, as she does in all of her husband's movies. Also, the movie was shot in England, which was sometimes quite obvious, and many supporting actors had unconvinving American accents. Still, I think we need more movies about walkers, a group that is sadly underrepresented in popular culture. I was thinking about it, but I don't think I'd make a good walker, somehow.

2008-05-28T22:19:00.000-07:00

Mother and her friend R. from NYC visited 2 days ago. Went all right, but Mom had a budding cold sore, as she seems to every time she sees 'friends' or family that stress her out, i.e. practically all of them. Her default 'revert to childhood' reflex also kicked in a couple of times, when her voice goes up an octave and gets all sing-songy and childlike, and she starts asking moronic or nonsensical questions, such as: "Is Dutch a written language"? But, I spent only an afternoon and evening with them, not nearly enough time for me to blow a gasket, as happened a year ago in NYC, when Mom and I got into a full-fledged shouting match right in front of the apartment she had shared with Dad 40 years earlier.
Just saw a dance performance, part of the off-Festival Trans-Ameriques ( are 'off' festivals a uniquely Quebec phenomenon?), featuring 3 separate pieces by different choreographers, the final one by George Stamos, an acquaintance from high school in Halifax. It wasn't bad, in fact all 3 were pretty good, George's being the funniest, especially an interlude when he seems to break character to clean up a bit. I felt less stress than I had at previous performances of his I had seen, mainly because there was no eagerness to please on my part. When I first moved to Mtl I bumped into him and hung out at his place a couple of times in the course of about 6 months, saw him perform twice, the first time actually helping set up before the show, so I could get in for free. It was a low point in my life: no money, no job, on welfare, going to the food bank, and it was winter and I was living in a bleak neighbourhood, in a decrepit cockroach-infested building. So I helped set up, feeling like the Mexican janitor, and had finished half the job when someone told me I had put all the chairs in the stage area, when I should have put them on the raised platform, which I stupidly took for the stage (a raised platform for dancers!?) Anyway, after that I didn't see George for about a year-and-a-half, at which point I saw him in the second performance, really good, by choreographer Benoit Lachambre. A couple of months later, I called him up and left a couple of messages asking if he wanted to get a coffee, or something. He never called back. I had also recently joined the Mile-End Y, and bumped into him there a few times, and he always seemed to make a pointed effort to ignore me, never acknowledging my presence unless I addressed him first. Of course, I took it all quite badly, but six or seven years later, I no longer care MUCH. One can't be liked by everyone one wants to be liked by, one of life's tougher lessons, one many people never manage to master.

Besuch der Mutter

2008-05-26T00:58:00.000-07:00

I'm stressing out, cause my Mother is in town, and with her friend Rona, to boot. Problem is, my mother has, from my perspective, a lot of unacknowledged insecurities. As a result, in social situations, or in the presence of certain people, friends or family, she gets very nervous, and concerned about being correct in all ways. She becomes distracted, doesn't listen, and starts policing my behaviour, furtively shaking her head at me, interrupting me when she thinks I may say something inappropriate. Obviously, this makes me uncomfortable, and compounds my already-significant levels of social discomfort, so social situations with her can be quite trying. And of course I start getting really annoyed at what I see as her hypocrisy and lack of depth, her fear of dispensing with small talk, platitudes, and endless declarations of 'God, what a beautiful day!' and embracing a slightly more challenging level of discourse... Oh, well, I'll just have to see what happens and hope for the best.

Romanian

2008-05-25T22:38:00.000-07:00

Paid $32 to see 'Mady-Baby', a pretty good Romanian play about prostitution and Romanian immigrants in Ireland, as part of the Festival Trans-Amerique. Sordid, especially the revelation near the end, but it was in Romanian, which is a beautiful language, with surtitles in English and French. Problem was, the surtitles were often misspelled, or out of sync with the dialogue, and often in British or Parisian slang. So I spent a bit too much mental effort trying to decipher them, detracting from my ability to enjoy the action onstage.

Then headed over the Oasis, a bathhouse I hadn't visited in nearly a year. Not much action there, spent more time observing others than participating.

Today, my loathed coworker was sick, so it was just Albert and me, so of course I was in a great mood, talking nearly non-stop, and finished work at 3 am. So while maybe having friends as coworkers is not always a gute Ahnung, enemies are not that fun, either, so one needs to strike a happy medium.

pop cultural musings

2008-05-19T22:54:00.000-07:00

Just finished a long work day, with aforementioned hated coworker. I could complain in great detail about the day, but my mood was lifted somewhat after I watched the season finale of SNL with guest host Steve Carell: lacklustre, for the most part, saved only by the presence of Amy Poehler and Kristin Wiig, and the sketch featuring the 2 a-holes at a karaoke bar. They do a great job of of capturing dead-on a very frightening contemporary urban archetype. Saw a new Ipod ad, and loved the song, which a quick bit of research revealed was 'Shut up and Let Me Go' by the Ting Tings. I listened to it in its entiretly, loved it, and then came by chance on 'Black and Gold' by Sam Sparro, which I am playing as I write this, and love even more. Anyhow, I am about to watch recordings of the last couple of episodes of 'Fashion File', as well as a CTV program by Josh Freed about packrats and clutter, an affliction with which I am personally well acquainted, having last week emptied my apartment of 4 garbage bagsful of recylable material. Also read a piece in the Guardian by Germaine Greer about how Ayers Rock is being ruined by mass tourism, and in particularly climbers. Sehr interessant. I love the Greer, despite her being, in the words of Salman Rushdie, a 'sanctimonious philistine'

2008-05-18T23:29:00.000-07:00

Just had a weird exchange with one coworker, after I commented innocently enough that he had arrived earlier than usual, and he seemed to take slight offence. Also, I am dreading the thought of working alone tomorrow with Charlie, another coworker I can't stand. It seems sometimes that half the people I know are completely nuts, myself included. This job is making me lose my mind, but it has its perks. A highlight is watching 2 reruns of Seinfeld back-to-back on Fox every Sunday, as well as SNL on Saturdays, but I have asked to have Saturdays off from June until September, simply because I can't stand working with Charlie and yet another colleague, Karen. Both are loud and obnoxious, and Charlie alternates between a ridiculous degree of boisterousness and gregariousness, and absolute dismissiveness, rudeness and impatience, forever walking around the office saying 'calice' 'tabernak', 'ostie', 'ciboire' and yammering on about the general incompetence that surrounds him, when half the time he's the incompetent one. His short-term memory is nil, and I wonder if it's because he smokes up every day. I feel like I desperately have to get away from these people. On Sundays, I work with Albert, so that eases the pain somewhat.

Saw John Zerzan, an anti-civilizational anarcho-primitivist speak this week at UQAM. Basically, he thinks it all went wrong after the arrival of agriculture, and that we should all return to a pre-industrial, edenic age of hunter-gatherers. He showed a couple of films, and outlined his position, and had a few good points, but the best part was the very animated Q & A afterwards. The place was full of unwashed anarchists, many with dreads, and I felt like the cleanest guy in the room. Many of the women were on the hairy sides, some with minor moustaches. I got a bit paranoid, when one of them looked at my fairly new Adidas shoes, thinking he was gonna get up and loudly denounce me as a CSIS agent, which of course didn't happen. Local activist celebs Jaggi Singh and Yves Engler were in attendance, as well.

Went to the Canadian Centre for Architecture this week, as well for the opening of an OK exhibit titled 'Ways of living in London and Tokyo'. Not bad, Phyllis Lambert (nee Bronfman) gave a speech. Lots of fags, and trendy, young yuppies in attendance, as well as Stefan Leacock, a black fashion fag-about-town I see fairly often. Attractive, but seems part of the skinny-jeaned airheaded gay fashion cabal.

The Cannes Film Festival has begun, and I'm trying half-assedly to follow it.

existential crisis

2008-05-11T23:10:00.000-07:00

Discussed my inertia tonight with Albert, conversation went well, although he seems to feel I may find some sort of salvation by volunteering to help build a house, or raise a barn, by doing something grueling and difficult and collective, and getting my hands dirty. An interesting idea, but I think maybe reading (or providing sexual services) to a senior citizen might be more up my alley. We parted ways over self-esteem, with him at one point saying he doesn't like people with low self-esteem, and me saying I have low self-esteem, and his replying that I don't. I do, but I'm also a bit of an arrogant snob, sometimes, and besides, I'm not sure that having too much self-esteem is any better than not having enough. I see a lot of self-satisfied, smug, doubt-free idiots out there every day of my life.

Also,, have a free pass to the opening of a new exhibit at the Canadian Centre for Architecture on Tuesday, the 13th. Last time I went to one, Phyllis Lambert herself was greeting people at the door. Would like to ask someone to go with me. We'll see.

stay or go?

2008-05-10T22:49:00.000-07:00

I have four days to decide whether to renew my lease for September. Spoke to Doug in Toronto, who recently bought a 3-bedroom condo in Leslieville, and said I could stay with him for a couple of months if ever I moved there, which I am considering. I am wary, though, as I really am not sure I could live with anyone else at this point in time, and the friendship with Doug feels a bit strained at this point, and I suspect it would not survive cohabitation. I feel disconnected from the world, and simultaneously want and fear change. Part of me would like the idea of moving to Toronto, a place my family dislikes, as it would mean they'd visit me less often, which is appealing. But it is more expensive, and I probably couldn't afford to live alone there. Wish I had a bit more social capital, which would make relocation easier, barring more money.

minor celeb sightings

2008-05-07T09:32:00.000-07:00

Forgot to mention a couple of other minor celeb sightings in NYC: in May, 2006, I was sitting in a Starbucks near Port Authority, when I saw Ali MacGraW walk by with a much younger woman, so I immediately bounded out, and began following them up the street. At Port Authority, the two parted ways, but not before Ali told her pal that she used to think she liked the ocean, back when she lived in California. I then continued to follow her, and pretty soon she was on to me. She was taller than I expected, probably at least 5' 7, and her longish hair was tied back into a ponytail, and didn't look entirely real: perhaps an expensive weave? Her face was also quite taut. She pulled out a cellphone, and crossed the street, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. Calling for reinforcements? She then headed down a side street towards the theatre where she was then making her B'way debut in 'Festen', to fairly poor reviews. During that same trip, I saw Jason Preston, former BF of Marc Jacobs, near Columbus Circle.

Against Happiness

2008-05-06T23:00:00.000-07:00

Began reading 'Against Happiness'. by Eric Wilson: good so far, but I'm only on page 38. Walked up Mount Royal today, and have also begun The Forsyte Saga. And now for a total non-sequitur: ... My father sent me the shirts I had left behind in London: there were 3 of them, including a Lacoste polo shirt I had bought second-hand in Toronto in 2005, for about $20, which is still in great shape, and has sentimental value, as it was such a good deal (in Canada, they cost $100 brand new). Dad had sent me an e-mail immediately after I arrived home in Canada after the trip, informing me I had forgotten 3 shirts, and we agreed he could send them when he returned to Halifax at the end of April. So a package arrived at my place yesterday, but it seemed a bit small to contain 3 shirts. i thought nothing of it, though, until I eventually opened it, and saw there were only 2 shirts, and no sign of the polo shirt. So I called Dad today, and he insisted there had only been 2 shirts, and that if there were a third one, it was left behind in Greece. Judy seemed to think she had seen it, but of course I was furious at Dad's obliviousness. And talking to him on the phone is now nearly impossible, thanks to his hearing loss. I speak slowly and loudly, and still he hears maybe a third of what I say. I later retrieved his original e-mail, and sent it to him, thus providing irrefutable evidence that he at least initially knew there were 3 shirts. This is what I'm going to have to do with him from now on, I guess: put everything in writing, so there's always a paper trail. Of course I cling to the idea that this is not merely age-related forgetfulness, although it could be partly that, but also a reflection of his indifference to others and their concerns, his near-total self-absorption. He simply can't be relied upon. I remember our first cat Daphne ran away while Dad was alone at home for a week and my mother, brother and I were on vacation, when I was about 3, and my mother telling me that Dad had forgotten to feed her.

pistachios

2008-05-04T22:24:00.000-07:00

Finished a weekend at work, and ate all the pistachios of a coworker I can't stand. Petty of me, perhaps, but we use the same desk (at different times), and he always leaves it a complete mess: sticky keyboard, half-empty coffee cup and bottles of drinks, a discarded kleenex or two, and is impervious to any requests of mine to clean up a bit after himself, so I figured he has it coming. And besides, the nuts were left out in the open.

breaking up with a friend

2008-05-04T22:18:00.000-07:00

Finally saw the early 'Seinfeld' episode in which Jerry tries unsuccessfully to dump a friend he hates. I'm fairly certain I had never seen it, but had sort of a deja vu nonetheless. Perhaps the topic was explored again in a later episode. I referenced it in an earlier posting, so maybe I had already seen it, but it certainly resonated. Maybe I should just accept the words of wisdom that we might as well accept that we will always have friends with whom we have nothing in common, but are just sort of stuck with. Especially when we are passive-aggressive, confrontation-averse cowards.

Gotham

2008-05-03T23:25:00.000-07:00

Got back from NYC a couple of days ago. Trip was five days, and the thrill is definitely gone. Stayed with Alan in Crown Heights, who has to leave the U.S. soon, having allowed his work visa to expire LAST JULY!? He's just as much the semi-literate, giggly 13-year-old schoolgirl trapped in the body of a 38-year-old Filipino man as ever, working 6 or 7 days a week as an architect, and going out and getting somewhat drunk nearly every night. I simply can't relate to lushes and addicts. Nutbars, I can relate to, though. All Alan's friends are irritating media and advertising-employed corporate types, as well. And now he wants to move to Dubai, which sounds like my idea of Hell.

My love affair with NYC may be over, as well. It's an exhausting place, the subway's a pain in the ass, summers are too hot, and it's ridiculously expensive, and feels more American than in the past. Maybe i just need a few years without a visit. On the plus side, did explore parts of
Crown Heights and Bedford-Stuyvesant I hadn't seen before.

Went to both the East Side and the West Side Clubs. The latter first, on a Saturday, when it was quite hopping. Staff as rude as ever, but had some fun with a well-hung Ben Kingsley look-alike, probably in his fifties, as well as a guy who looked like Frank Langella's younger brother. At the ESC the following Tuesday, the crowd was definitely older, but did someone I had had an encounter with a couple of years before. Staff marginally friendlier. Was hit on by a couple of older Jewish guys and a short Latino, and cruised by a big-dicked twentysomething Negro I found quite hot, but was too intimidated to respond to. A youngish guy in white flipflops kept walking by me and asking 'S'up?', which was kind of amusing.

Also had a very brief visit to the Whitney Biennial, which was pretty good, especially a couple of Video installations, one called 'The Alchemy of Comedy... Stupid' by Edgar Arceneaux, featuring simultaneously-playing footage of David Alan Grier performing the same brilliant comedy routine at 3 different venues, and the other a video by Olaf Breuning, sort of a sendup of cheesy reality shows and adventure travel TV programs. Also liked the paintings of Robert Bechtle. And I saw Michael Cunningham there, too. Every time I go to NYC, I see someone mildly famous: last July it was Bobby Cannavale, last May Anna Wintour.

Birthday

2008-04-23T19:37:00.000-07:00

Entered my middle-late thirties yesterday, also Earth Day, of course, and celebrated with a walk up Mount Royal. at a vigourous pace, my second such excursion in the past week. Went late in the day, as it was quite hot, 25 degrees, possibly a record for April 22. Fretted about NYC, which may be back on, if I play my cards right. Crazy friend M.C. visited from Ottawa today, only for a few hours, as she is too stressed over the prospect of leaving her cat alone at home overnight. I tell her it's not a dog, but she always leaves it at her parents' when she leaves, or else takes her with her. Anyhow, went to la Paryse, a great dyke-run burger joint near my place, and then showed her my apt. Of course, she was bowled over by the mess, kept saying it could be so nice, if only I tidied up, and it would only take a couple of hours, which of course is absolutely true. That's OCD for you though. This is why the depiction of the disorder was so much more accurate in 'The Aviator' than in 'As Good as it Gets'. Finally got a bit of much-needed rain this evening, after nearly a week of unseasonably warm and dry weather.

HABS fever!

2008-04-21T22:39:00.000-07:00

Montreal has gone mad for hockey, as the local team, the Canadiens, seem to be advancing to the playoffs. I feel like the only person in the city who doesn't care. Tonight was pandemonium, as cars blared horns and waved flags, and people took to the streets to express their joy. I just want it to be over soon

NYC in my mind?

2008-04-21T22:29:00.000-07:00

Well, planned trip to New York may not pan out, as the friend I am supposed to stay with (who I don't even like, but use simply because he has a place in NYC, natch) has suddenly, after twice telling me that a visit this week was OK , announced that it is, alas, not, and could I maybe come a week later, instead? Of course I cannot, as I am on vacation now and have to return to work by then. He did the same thing last year, when I met my mother, who was staying in Brooklyn chez a friend, and once there, I had to scramble to make last-minute alternate plans for my first night. Maybe it's karma for using people, although I like to think I do a good job of feigning friendship, and I am a considerate houseguest. Anyway, I wrote back to him suggesting I spend the first couple of nights in a hotel, and then stay at his place. We'll see what happens.

The REAL Rochefort

2008-04-20T22:21:00.001-07:00

Just spent several hours at a local bathhouse, bought this new brand of poppers, called aiR or something, 'from Europe', had a couple of encounters using said poppers, including one with a very priapic septuagenarian, and now have a major headache. I'm going back to the real Rochefort

the VIew

2008-04-19T00:48:00.000-07:00

Watched 'The View' the other day at work, and was pleasantly surprised to see the guest was Jenna Jameson. I was wondering how a show Baba Wawa, the prudish Joy Behar, and 2 right-wing Christians would treat the retired porn queen. The body language spoke volumes, with Barbara looking very uncomfortable, and Hasselback and whatever the the black woman who is not Whoopi's name is remaining pretty silent. Jenna was promoting some lame-looking movie called 'Zombie Strippers', and came across as kind vacuous and a bit desperate to be taken seriously, "I'm a smart girl", mentioning the subtle critique of the Bush administration in her movie, etc., but I wanted to defend her, and the only host who seemed the least bit O.K. and relaxed with her was Whoopi. Wouldn't be surprised if the next View feud is between Ms. Goldberg and Joy. Have noticed Whoopi looks unimpressed with some of Behar's jokes.

2008-04-18T22:56:00.001-07:00

Saw 'Oh, What a Lovely War', Richard Attenborough's mega-budget 1968 anti-war musical, featuring almost every British actor of note (Maggie Smith, Gielgud, John Mills, Susannah York, Vanessa and Corin Redgrave, Ian Holm, etc.) Quite good, and moving. I cried a few times. Also rented 'Topkapi' starring Melina Mercouri, and 'The Best of Everything' with Joan Crawford, Suzy Parker, and the Seagram Building.

2008-04-18T22:42:00.000-07:00

Read an interesting article in the New Yorker about the New
Wave, in particular the complicated relationship between Truffaut and Godard, and while Godard does indeed come across as a bit of a prick, I was forced to confront my own cowardice when reading about how he would cut people off just like that, but always seemingly due to principle, usually political differences. It seems that the friendship with Truffaut was perhaps, at least initially, one in which Godard was the beloved, and Truffaut the lover. The beloved usually has the power. Of course, this reminded me of my utter lack of courage when it comes to friendships. I have for years had friends that I don't like, have little in common with, or am bored by. It is one of the few constants of my adult life. I sometimes think of politely telling someone that it's not working out, but can't. Reminds me of the episode of 'Seinfeld' that posed the question 'Can one break up with a friend?' The general consensus seems to be 'no', that one should drop hints, phase things out, but to me that seems like a copout. Same with love. I've never had a relationship, and wonder if I'm even capable of love, anymore. And if not, is this even necessarily a bad thing, as long as one doesn't harm anyone. Is love necessary, should happiness be everyone's goal?

movies

2008-04-17T15:36:00.000-07:00

Saw a good movie last night: a Hungarian one called 'Men in the Nude', or at least thusly translated. Good, sort of a retelling of 'Death in Venice', about an older, nominally heterosexual married writer who becomes besotted with a younger male hustler. Refreshing to see the older man playing the top. Usually in contemporary movies or books of this genre, the older, more refined intellectual falls for some younger, straight-identified rough trade, a la Bruce Benderson.

mystified by the appeal of Snoop Dogg

2008-04-17T15:30:00.000-07:00

Caught some of his reality show, and to me, he's just a monosyllabic moron who thinks he's a player. OK, he's a bit funny at times, especially when they play up the fish-out of water stuff. But I've never understood his cross-over appeal. Plus he looks just like a white female coworker of mine, and I just can't get past that. And his family is pathetic, although they sure beat the Hogans. But Ozzie, who created this particular reality-show sub-genre, and did it quite well, has a lot to answer for.

recent movies seen

2008-04-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

Saw the remake of Funny Games last week. As expected, a virtual shot-by-shot remake of the original Austrian film, which blew me away. So, ten years later, not sure I liked the remake as much: the element of surprise was gone, and I saw it in a nearly-empty theatre, but the few people in attendance were restless and noisy, which was very distracting, what with an old man who kept noisily zipping up his jacket, leaving for ten minutes or so, only to return and repeat the cycle fifteen minutes later, and also noisily tap his cane. There were also people who arrived 40 minues late, and left about 25 minutes after that, and others who kept leaving to make phone calls. It's moments like these that make me ready to give up on multiplexes altogether, and stick with arthouses or DVD's. On DVD, watched 2 movies last night: 'Bright Young Things', Stephen Fry's adaption of 'Vile Bodies', by Evelyn Waugh: quite good, and 'Interview', Steve Buscemi's remake of a Theo van Gogh movie: pretty good, but I was distracted by Sienna Miller's unconvincing hair extensions: but that could have been character-appropriate, I guess. Also, her American accent was iffy.

Montreal media mediocrity

2008-04-13T23:12:00.000-07:00

Just watched 'Entertainment Spotlight', CTV lifestyle and showbiz program featuring Mose Persico, the smarmy master of malapropism. It is fun to watch him suck up to celebs in media junkets, and try to make Hollywood dreck sound profound and insightful. Today he was in Hawaii interviewing the stars of 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall', but there was a funny moment when 'Bill Hader' (identified on the screen as 'Bill Nader'- good one, Mose) started subtly mocking the obviousness of his questions. And at the end of an interview he often tells the star, as if it was some sort of meangingful tete-a-tete, and his opinion actually mattered within the context of a junket, "And I wish you continued success". But seriously, Mose obviously knows next to nothing about cinema and culture, often mixing up actors and movie titles, or referring to Marie Antoinette as a 'Venetian beauty', or saying 18th century when he means 1800's, etc. etc. And only once did I ever hear him pan a movie. His inane banter with Brit airhead co-host Orla Johannes also stretches the limits of credulity. But watching his show is the highlight of my workday, and he beats local CBC radio host Dave Bronstetter, whose folksiness and weird, Montreal-Irish accent (earlier is pronounced 'eardier') have me swearing out loud at my work desk, much to the chagrin of my coworkers. When Dave interviews the lame, unfunny Canadian comedians he often interviews (Sugar Sammy, perhaps), laughing at their sad excuses for jokes and trying to provide a few of his own, it's time to turn off the radio. But, alas, I cannot, as this is work for me. Dave just seems like the ultimate bland Boomer. I wonder if it's all part of the dumbing-down of our national broadcaster.Maybe Russell Smith, a columnist I quite like, is right. Used to serve him subs when I worked at Subway briefly in 1988, by the way.

'Entertainment Spotlight' also featured a profile of a local fashion label and its Gino-boy founders. $800 t-shirts encrusted with Swarovski crystals: would a rich idiot really pay for something like this? One of the founders had that curious Montreal Anglo habit of saying "Us, we", as in "Us, we wanted to do something different". People also say "Me, I", as in "Me, I prefer Gina Lollobrigida". It's a very French style of syntax, and it seems particular to children of immigrants here, raised in households where neither English nor French was spoken much, if at all, going to school often, but not alway, in French, because of Bill 101, but growing up very attuned to American pop culture, and speaking English with friends. The result is a sort of English pidgin with strange galicisms: 'pass the mop', instead of 'mop up'; 'gallery' for front porch, 'library' for 'bookstore'. Laura Casella, a CJAD radio reporter of obvious Italian extraction, often makes gallicisms, just today referring to demonstrators at a protest "banging drums, and even 'casseroles'"

typing slip-up

2008-04-12T21:28:00.000-07:00

Sorry about those last 3 postings: typing error. It is NHL playoff season, and unfortunately, the Montreal Canadiens are doing well. I hate hockey with a passion, always have. In fact, I hate pretty much all sports, although I agree with the approach of a colleague of mine who watches recorded rugby games while he works, just for the eye candy. That is to me a perfectly valid reason for watching a match. Anyway, people seem unable to grasp the notion of a man who does not like sports. And yet, from a young age I have been indifferent to team sports. I learned very early to hide this, as it did not conform to accepted cultural notions of masculinity. When my maternal American grandparents asked me what my favourite sport was, I picked the first one that came to mind: baseball, and then they began sending me all sorts of baseball-related toys, none of which had any effect upon me. I remember watching TV with my grandfather once during a visit to Massachusetts, and an ad for Mr. Coffee featuring Joe DiMaggio coming on, and him asking me if I knew who he was, and me replying "Of course, he was Marilyn Monroe's husband", and Gramps not being too pleased at all. In later years, I had no interest in team sports, and while the pressure to feign that interest has definitely waned over the years, it is still a sore point, I guess. What bothers me most about sports fans is their absolute confidence that everyone else (especially male) shares their passion. Hence the confidence and absolute lack of doubt with which the question 'what did you think of the game last night' is posed. As someone who has always had weird interests, I'm often wary about discussing them with just anyone, as I know chances are good the person to whom I'm talking does not share the interest.

nos

2008-04-12T21:26:00.002-07:00

nos

2008-04-12T21:26:00.001-07:00

nos

2008-04-12T21:26:00.000-07:00

Thespian height

2008-04-10T14:46:00.000-07:00

It seems that several of my favourite actresses have height issues. While Vanessa Redgrave may have once been about 5 foot 11, she now appears to be not much over 5 foot 8, and Katharine Hepburn was at her peak about 5 foot 6 or slightly over, although she claimed to be at least 5 foot 7, but by 1994, her final film and TV appearances, she looked not much over 5 foot 1, tops, and was quite hunched. Meanwhile, Tilda Swinton claims to be 5 foot 11, but does not appear to be exceptionally tall, and always wears super-high heels (5 or 6 inches, I would estimate). In group photos, she is usually taller than the other women, but often about the same height or slightly more than the men. 5 11 with heels would mean she would be 6' 4 or even 5, which is definitely not the case. I would put her at 5'8 or perhaps 9, max.

Was noch?

2008-04-07T23:10:00.000-07:00

So, entry number 3, I guess. Tomorrow, I hope to see two or three movies: the remake of 'Funny Games', the original of which I loved, 'Up the Yangtze', and possibly 'It's a Free World' the latest Ken Loach. I don't care what Greenaway says, I love Loach, although I guess I've only seen two or three of his films. I also love Greenaway. I want to see Ken's latest, because the female protagonist looks like a compelling villain. Movies need more compelling villains of both genders. I am really sick of my mother's brand of 'Well, if she were a man, I'm not sure people would be nearly so critical' feminism, which she uses to dismiss criticism of everyone from Benazir Bhutto to Hillary Clinton. And it's always used when it comes to women and power, as if women using their power to oppress and exploit others cannot be denounced. At the same time, she has a point, but it's, you know, complicated. Everything is complicated.
Been trying to avoid a friend who, to quote Elaine from 'Seinfeld' "I don't even like", one of many, whose company I just can't take anymore. He moved back here about 7 months ago from Quebec City, and we have so little in common, except both being gay, and having lived in Ottawa. Anyway, he has embraced a naive form of environmental activism, and talks a lot about it, and I'm sorry, but composting is just not a topic of any interest to me, as admirable an activity as it may be. I mean, people make jokes about it being boring, about how Prince Charles was such a bore, always talking about composting and organic farming, and how lucky he is to have found Ms. Parker Bowles, who share those interests. Anyway, conversation between T and me is more 2 competing monologues than a true dialogue, as he has almost zero interest in culture. But, alas, I am a coward, and lack the courage to end the friendship. Anyway, a famous episode of 'Seinfeld' posed the question 'can one break up with a friend'? The consensus seems to be no, that one should phase things out, instead, but that seems like a cop-out to me. And I am so damned confrontation-averse and passive-aggressive, I find these things incredibly difficult. Anyway, I spend most of my time alone, partly by choice, but partly because I am sort of withdrawing from the world.
Enough about my anxieties. I recently returned from a week in London, stayed in Fitzrovia, about a block from the British Telecom tower, very near the area where the Ian McEwan novel 'Saturday', which I loved, was set. I'm kicking myself, because, although I knew it was set near where I was staying, I only found out on my return that McEwan lives in Fitzroy Square, which is literally a small block from the building in which we stayed, and it is widely believed that the protagonist Perowne lives in the square, which isn't named in the book. I think I walked past it, but can't be 100% certain. Ah, well. Anyway, visited a lot of 'hoods while there, all the usual suspects, of course: Trafalgar Square, Soho, Hyde Park, Regent's Park, Covent Garden, PicCadilly Circus, the British Museum, Tate Modern, National Gallery. But also saw Finsbury Park, Brixton, the East End (Brick Lane, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Spitalfields, Fournier Street, Hoston Square and the White Cube Gallery), as well as the Serpentine Gallery, which had a great exhibition on Derek Jarman. Did a hell of a lot of walking, and went to 2 bathhouse: Chariots in Shoreditch, and the Pleasuredrome by Waterloo Station. Bathhouses interesting: like in Berlin and Paris, everyone rents a locker, rather than a room, but the rooms can be had once inside, mostly on a first-come, first-served basis. At Chariots, there were a lot of hot, superhung Brazilians and black dudes, but I noticed that when someone would emerge from the shower, hot tub, or sauna naked, he would often modestly put a hand in front of his cock. Very strange. Also, it took a while before things really took off. But had a couple of interesting experiences, including one with an older 60-something guy at Pleasuredrome who had mild osteoporosis, spoke with a vaguely Eastern European accent, and looked a bit like Patricia Highsmith in her later years crossed with Richard Nixon. Also sucked off an impossibly huge black cock in the darkroom at Chariots.The London saunas seemed a fair bit more expensive than in Canda, but much cleaner. God, I love the hedonism of faggotry, even if back home in Montreal, when I visit the tubs, my libido is for the most part in neutral. Stayed with my father and his galpal of 26 years in a very small space. Was worried about not being able to sleep with Dad's snoring, but it turned out the bedroom was somewhat separate from the main room of the flat, and with earplugs it was not an issue. Of course, got into a couple of fights with Dad, with whom I can barely communicate anymore, as he is deafer than ever, and refuses to ever wear a hearing aid, but not out of pride. Instead, in my opinion, Dad has never been particularly interested in anything his girlfriend J has to say, and with good reason, as the woman is a bit of an idiot, and he a bit of an intellectual, and so this deafness is a godsend for him, as it provides the perfect excuse to tune out and not be fully present. In fact, Dad is just one of these people who is more interested in things and ideas than people, so communication has never been his top priority, but his lack of hearing is uneven, to say the least, and depends greatly on what is being said. The whole situation is just pathetic. My father never wanted to be with a smart woman, so he's chosen this airhead doormat. It's not fair to either one of them, because J sort of represents everything he hates: she is materialistic, obsessed with her grandchildren, and not remotely concerned with current events or ideas. I remember watching the news with her, and anytime anything about the Palestinians, the Lebanese Civil War, or any other crisis was covered, J would look at the TV, shake her head, and say something like "Oh, oh, God, why, why?" and whimper and look defeated. But Dad treats her like shit, and she takes it. Amd she is a genuinely unselfish, giving woman, I guess.

2008-04-06T23:57:00.000-07:00

In Quebec, where I live, I have encountered a bizarre confusion among Francophones about the meaning of Jewishness and Jewish identity. To many, because there is a visible Hassidic community in Montreal, that is the only face of Jewishness. I used to live in Mile-End, a neighbourhood with a large Hassidic community, and when I used the word Hassidic to describe my neighbours, I was often met with a blank stare, followed by "Oh, you mean 'Jewish'", which bothered me to no end. I remember a co-worker actually telling me that Dustin Hoffman refuses to do love scenes, because he's Jewish. Now she was not exactly an intellectual, so I basically ignored her. But I was recently surprised to find that Nathalie Petrowski, a prominent newspaper columnist, in a piece about Woody Allen suing American Apparel over its use of his image in its ads, referred to said image as "Woody dressed as a rabbi" from "Annie Hall". I thought to myself, "I really don't remember that scene, could she be thinking of him as a Hassidim"? Another newspaper columnist, Lysiane Gagnon, describes this Quebecois Jew-confusion in a piece in the Globe and Mail a couple of months ago.

Speaking of idiotic media types, I was shocked to hear CBC radio reporter Catherine Cullen refer to the islands of St-Pierre and Miquelon as 'St-Pierre and Moliquin' yesterday. Not quite as bad as low-rent French-language TV station TQS referring to 'le gouvernement Hindou' not too long ago, but still problematic.

first entry

2008-04-04T16:20:00.000-07:00

OK, so this is my first foray into the blogosphere (second, actually, if you count my single-entry rant about Angie Coss, a local radio personality in Montreal who is borderline illiterate). So many things to say, so little time. I'm a gay thirtysomething Montrealer with a low-ranking job in the media, who is also on the misanthropic side, and obsessive-compulsive, to boot. I have a keen interest in movie trivia, travel (more in theory than practise), newspapers, the arts, weather stats and bathhouses. While I loathe many things, and have much to rant about, I realize the blogosphere is perhaps a bit too populated by frustrated, angry losers, so I will attempt to mix the bile with some positive, constructive analysis, commentary, etc.
And so, on this snowy early April Montreal Friday evening, I prepare to head off and return the Todd Verow DVD 'The Trouble with Perpetual Deja Vu', which I couldn't even finish, it was so dull, to the video store, after which I will finish reading all the copies of 'the Guardian' accumulated during a recent trip to London, and maybe head to the public library to borrow 'The Forsyte Saga", which may be the only novel I read this year.