Someone in a Tree

Gossip Boy

2009-07-10T11:57:00.003-04:00

I'm friends with several of the trainers and staff at my gym. Well, I guess in a way they HAVE to be friendly to me since I'm a client and I'm there all the freaking time, but I prefer to see it as they have all been won over by my charming personality.

And as a side note, the idea that all these muscle-head straight-boy trainers enjoy chatting and joking with me blows my mind just a teensy bit.

But that is not the point of this little post. No the point is that a few weeks ago I was walking to the office from the subway, and one of the front desk guys spotted me and walked with me. We often take the same train in from Brooklyn and so we chat on the train, or if we aren't in the same car, we see each other exiting the station and chat as we walk to the office (the gym is in the same building in which I work).

As we were chatting he asked if I watched the TV show Gossip Girl. I said that I did not but asked why he brought it up. He said that apparently one of the guys from the show has started going to our humble little gym. Oh! That piqued my interest a wee bit. Which guy? He didn't know as he didn't watch the show either, but he'd seen the guy and the buzz at the gym was that this guy was from the TV show.

Now I don't watch the show, but reading the blogs it has been pretty near impossible to escape the occasional chatter about the show and the pretty people who are on it. I knew, for example that Chase Crawford had been cast in the re-make of the Footloose movie, and that he and Ed Westwick, also from the show, had been rooming together, causing desperate gays nation-wide to insist that these two young men must surely be fucking each other non-stop as a result of the co-habitation.

Whatever.

So on Monday I was at the gym in the early evening doing my thing and I saw one of the trainers leading an unconscionably handsome young man around for a training session. The fellow was nicely built, had thick black hair, absolutely perfect skin and was wearing a tight black tank top. For some reason, I just knew this had to be the guy. He didn't look familiar to me, but there was just something that made me think: this is the TV boy.

So yesterday I was, again, at the gym in the early evening (usually I'm there in the morning or sneak out for my lunch break) and there was pretty boy and his trainer. I also saw a friend of mine who was more tapped into pop culture, so I sidled up to him and asked if he watched Gossip Girl. He grinned at me and said no he didn't but yes, that was the fellow. Another friend of his was excitedly taking a picture with his iPhone and texting it to everyone he knew on the planet. I asked what the actor's name was, and my friend didn't know his real name but knew that he played Dan something-or-other from Brooklyn on the show.

I went home and did a Google search and figured out that, yes, Penn Badgley does indeed now go to my gym.

I think he probably lives in one of the fancy condos attached to the building, because I've never seen him in the locker room or checking in at the front desk. Residents can use a separate entrance.

I will say that he looks damn fine in a black tank top.

Tales of the Wretched Little City

2009-07-09T22:41:00.005-04:00

With a hat tip to Father Tony, who coined the phrase, I took a train up to the Wretched Little City on Wednesday to meet up with a friend and then head to Waterford to attend a workshop performance of the musical Tales of the City, based on the Armistead Maupin novels. The libretto is by Jeff Whitty (Avenue Q) and the music and lyrics are by Jake Shears (of The Scissor Sisters).

I left work a little early and met up with my friend, also named David who will be referred to as AND moving forward. We then drove out to Waterford (city of the famous crystal), grabbed a bite and settled into two of the bridge chairs set up in the converted barn at the Eugene O'Neil Theatre Center.

The cast was quite a delightful collection of both familiar (Candy Buckly, Mary Birdsong, Christopher Hanke, Steve Kazee, Kristine Zbornick, Jeffrey Carlson, Jose Llana, Matt McGrath) and unfamiliar (Betsy Wolfe, Diane Davis, John Jellison, Josh Breckenridge) names.

The reading started at 8PM and we figured that assumming a two-hour running time, we would be out of there in plenty of time to get me back on the 11:38PM train - the last train back to NYC.

Overall the show looks very promising. There was no real staging or costumes, an additional actor sat at a music stand and read stage directions as the actors read the lines and sang the songs. Many of the songs were catchy and/or moving and entertaining. Highlights included Michael Tolliver's touching song/letter coming out to his mother, Mother Mucca's raunchy cri de couer about life in the brothel, and Mary Ann Singleton's rousing I'm-gonna-make-it-here-in-San Francisco number. Of course it is still a work in progress and we were witnessing only the third formal read-thru of the work. Still it is always amazing to see what talented actors can do with new material in a relatively short period of time. Characters seemed well-fleshed out and line readings and songs were wonderfully nuanced.

However, when we broke for the intermission, it was nearly 9:40PM. Another problem with works in progress is that they are invariably over-stuffed with material that eventually gets winnowed down. I should have remembered that. But AND and I decided to keep our eyes on the clock and if we had to leave early in order for me to make the train, so be it. I did get to see Jake Shears hanging out during intermission, though. He is very cute. AND swears he saw Mr. Maupin, but could not locate him again later to point him out to me.

Periodically through Act II, as Mona headed to Nevada and Mary Ann was courted by Norman, I would check my watch and see the time creep towards 10:45PM, which was our drop-dead have-to-leave time.

Then AND nudged me and pointed grimly at his watch to show that it was 10:47PM.

We bolted.

Well, we tip-toed out, with sinking hearts, as we really were enjoying the work and things were heading towards the climax. But from reading the books, I knew we had at least 4-5 plot points to resolve before the finale and there was no way I could stay.

We dashed out to the car and AND began racing me back to the Wretched Little City. His GPS monitor not only showed the route, but gave us an ETA, and as we headed out, it showed us getting there at 11:42pm. Not good.

Barreling down the highway, AND valiantly got us down to an 11:36 arrival time, and as we pulled within blocks of the station I began to relax.

And then we hit a red light. And then a cop car pulled up into the intersection. And so we sat. And sat. And sat.

7 years later, the light changed and AND tore into the railway station lot, I barrelled out of the car and ran through the station, up the stairs to the platform and stood watching as the 11:38 pulled out of the station.

Fuck.

I trudged back to AND, who had promised to wait until I either re-appeared or called him to let him know I'd made it. With no other alternative, I drove with him back to his home, in Springfield MA. Ironically, we observed that we could have stayed for the whole show after all, as the result would have been the same. Oh well, live and learn.

The next morning AND drove me to the Springfield Amtrak station and I bought a ticket to New Haven. Luckily, the train connected there, so I could use the return trip ticket to NYC I had purchased the day before. The fiasco only cost me an extra $26.

Needless to say, I did not make it into work on time this morning. In fact I got in around 3PM, but I had notifed them about my mis-hap and no one really had a problem with it.

Despite all the travel drama, it was a great treat to see the workshop, and I hope that work progresses on the piece and that it gets a proper staging, hopefully eventually in NYC, in the not too distant future.

Wednesday Tent Pitch

2009-07-08T12:37:00.005-04:00

I am very excited to announce that, just as when Mohammad could not go to the mountain the mountain came to Mohammad, I will be making a small road-trip to meet the world-famous Bossy, since she snubbed me...er, um...was otherwise occupied and did not take the much-promised-and-totally-vowed-she-would-do-it second leg of her road trip last year.

I will be joined in this confabulation by the confabulous VUBOQ (who did get to meet Bossy on the first leg of the road trip, but I don't hold that against him). The Bossy household will not have seen so much gay in one place since half past never. Hide the husbands and livestock. The mayhem begins Saturday and continues through Sunday, which also happens to be a 12 of 12 day, so expect a full photo essay by the end of the weekend.

In honor of this event I offer you the same shit I give you every Wednesday. I mean, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Here are the menz.

MJ

2009-07-07T14:09:00.007-04:00

Here is a listing of things that came up on a Google search of the initials MJ that DID NOT pertain to, you know, the three-ring circus going on in LA right now (as opposed to the ongoing three-ring circus in Albany). It took me three pages to cull these out.

The MJ Morning Show! which I guess is syndicated because it is linked to six different FM radio stations across the country.

MJ's, a gay bar in Silverlake, CA. Nice Flickr photo set in their gallery link, kids.

The Wikipedia entry on the unit of energy called a joule, which features this equation:
1 kilowatt hour = 3.6×10⁶ J (or 3.6 MJ)

M&J Trimming, The World's Premier Trimming Resource Since 1936. For all your cord, ribbon and fringe needs.

MJ Guitar Engineering - the home of the world renowned MJ MIRAGE line of guitars.

Some site with the address www.mj.com that does not allow access but notes that it has no connection with either Mr. Jackson or Mr. Jordan.

The website of M.J. Rose, author of such works as The Reincarnationist and The Delilah Complex. She lives in Connecticut with Doug Scofield, a composer, and their very spoiled dog, Winka.

The MJ Murdock Charitable Trust, which seeks to enrich the quality of life in the Pacific Northwest by providing grants and enrichment programs to non-profit organizations that seek to strengthen the region's educational, spiritual, and cultural base in creative and sustainable ways.

An article at the Talking Points Memo blog authored by M.J. Rosenberg.

MJ Industries, Top Shelf Solutions for Today's Libraries.

You're welcome.

Our Town

2009-07-06T14:54:00.004-04:00

As the last gay theater queen in New York City to see it, I finally attended the production of Our Town playing at the Barrow Street Theater.

I've always like this play since I first read it in high school. Something about the simplicity of the work, its 'everyman' nature and its complete lack of any artifice, makes it just so honest and resonant.

I had heard lots of good things about the current production, and on occasion discounted tickets had come up on the TDF website, but the dates were never copacetic. But once I knew I would be around town for the 4th of July weekend and not planning any beach trips, I snapped up a ticket to see it on Sunday.

The Barrow Street Theater is tiny to begin with, but the way they have set up the space makes it even cozier. The small mezzanine became part of the playing area and what is usually the stage was made into bleacher seating. Same with the sides. In the center of the space, in about the space of two roomy elevators, were two tables with four chairs each. If you know the show you can probably guess how they were used. The audience was barely a foot away from the actors, and the aisle behind the first row of seats on either side was also part of the playing area. You were immersed in the play.

The actors all wore street clothes and many of the props were pantomimed. I had been tipped off by reviews and friends who had seen the play, but if you didn't know better, when the character of the Stage Manager begins speaking you would have no idea that the play had actually started.

How was it? Shattering. Brilliant. Crystal clear. The performances are so nuanced and well thought out that the spaces between the spoken lines often provide as much impact as the words. I had heard that the production packed an emotional punch, but I was already getting misty in the second act, long before the third act where things really get teary.

And here is the odd thing. I have read this play numerous times and seen it performed, so it's not like I didn't know what was going to happen. Still, as the events unfolded I was completely swept up, carried along and slammed, every so gently, into an emotional wall by the story.

Our Town is a quiet piece, and because of that, the sniffling that pervaded the theater was quite audible. Young and old alike were moved. I was pleased to see a young pre-teen boy in the audience wiping tears away in the final scene.

You may have read hints about it elsewhere, and I won't reveal it here, but the final scene contains what is called a coup de théâtre that, while not technically complex, is so well set up and presented that you gasp when it happens.

I don't know how much longer the production will be running, but if you can check it out, I highly recommend it.

Milestone

2009-07-05T23:45:00.003-04:00

This past Friday was the 50th birthday of one of my oldest friends.

No pun intended.

I met Stu doing a community theater production of Into the Woods back in 1989. I played Jack in the Beanstalk and he was Cinderella's Prince. Along with the actresses playing Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood, we were a solid four musketeers for almost the entire rehearsal and performance run. The four of continued as friends in various iterations in other productions over the next few years. Then time and the years took their toll and Cinderella and Little Red drifted away. But Stu and I remained in touch as our friendship, while waxing and waning at times, never faded.

We've helped each other through various break-ups, losses, job changes, moves and, most importantly, hair loss.

So when I received the Evite from his partner that there was going to be a surprise party for him at one of their favorite restaurants in New Jersey, Segovia, I initially despaired, as getting to NJ for someone without a car can be a real trial. But I contacted the restaurant and inquired as to how someone in my situation might get there and was elated to learn that a but stopped right across from the restaurant, and was only a 20 minute ride from Port Authority. I was in like Flynn.

Since I had the day off, I was able to do various chores during the day, grab a quick workout and head over to Port Authority in plenty of time. In fact things went so smoothly that I arrived a good 40 minutes early. Thankfully I'd brought a book, and they had a bar. One vodka and grapefruit juice later some familiar faces started showing up. I hadn't seen most of them in ages so that was a treat in itself. Slowly we filled up the party room (there was about 25 of us total not counting the birthday boy and his man). Periodic updates came over the blackberry discretely keeping up informed on where they were and their ETA.

A little after the appointed time of 7PM, one of the staff turned off the lights, we hushed as best we could (some people simply can't shut up) and then in they walked, we shouted "surprise!" and while he didn't look totally startled he was indeed surprised and quite amazed to see all of us there.

The rest of the evening was spent eating, drinking, laughing, eating, drinking, chatting, and eating. Did I mention eating? Lord help us the portions were huge, and I'm just talking about the appetizers, served family style. While I didn't avail myself of the first course of fried calamari, shrimp scampi and stuffed clams, I did have healthy servings of rigatoni (perfectly al dente and with a fantastic pink sauce) and salad.

Entrees were a choice of veal, chicken, steak or salmon. I had the salmon and when it arrived it was the size - I am not making this up - of my head. I ate all I could that night. I ate the other half for dinner tonight. Seriously. Dessert was birthday cake AND your choice of ice cream or flan. The cake was a magnificent chocolate cake with vanilla frosting (thankfully not a hint of raspberry or other fruit filling in sight to spoil things) but I had to also try the flan because good flan is hard to find and since everything else there had been excellent I had to give it a try. It was very good but I couldn't finish it, I was just too full.

Oh! I forgot to mention the pitchers of sangria on the tables. There were pitchers of sangria on the tables. Three of them at each table. Somehow or other they were empty by the end of the evening. I have no idea how that happened.

The last bus back to NYC left at 11:29PM so at 11PM I began to say my farewells, which fortunately coincided with most of the other guests making their way home. I received a few offers to drive me to a PATH station but I'd already purchased my return ticket and it was such an easy ride, and the stop was so convenient I graciously declined and headed out to the bus stop at 11:10PM.

At 11:40PM I began to re-think the wisdom of that decision.

Just as I began to work through possible alternate scenarios to get home, the bus pulled into sight and I began to breathe again. An uneventful ride back, a fairly easy connection to the subway and I was home and in bed by 1:30AM.

Happy Birthday, Stu. Here's to another 50.

Post-Pride Ponderings

2009-07-02T15:43:00.008-04:00

While I had a great time marching with the bloggers this year, and if we do it again next year I'm totally on board, I have to say I have little mini-pangs of regret that I didn't get to actually SEE the parade.

Over the last few days I've seen posts on other folk's blogs with photos of some of the other marchers and I've thought "ooh I wish I'd seen that!" Like all the hot boy floats and the creative drag queens and the marching bands and the occasional porn star and the swag that gets thrown at the crowds and did I mention the hot boys?

The flip side in watching instead of marching is the scramble to secure prime viewing space, standing for hours on end (as opposed to standing for hours on end and THEN marching), deciding when you've seen enough and need to go sit down somewhere, people pushing and shoving to get by, and the impossibility of getting anywhere with all the barricades up.

But marching does give you a different perspective, particularly on the places you walk by all the time. Some interesting moments from the march:
* The stretches of chi-chi 5th Avenue with those shop windows that could be viewed from the middle of the street;
* The realization that people live in some of the buildings you walk by without a thought, evidenced by the small parties of folks hanging out the windows watching;
* The ghost town that was St. Patrick's Cathedral - fenced off and not a soul standing in front;
* The block of store fronts that all had "for rent" signs in them. Creepy;
* Turning onto narrow Christopher Street, packed solid with people all clacking their complimentary Pleasure Chest wooden sticks together like they were part of a giant gay tribe holding some bizarre ritual. Oh, wait...

Some other interesting Pride Parade factoids:
* Over 320 groups/organization participated, including 65 floats and 170 vehicles;
* The Pride Parade is the longest March/Parade in the city (not that size matters, of course) with over 100,000 estimated to have marched this year;
* In addition to the other three grand marshals (Dustin Lance Black, Cleve Jones, Anne Kronenberg), Governor Paterson made history as the first sitting US Governor to ever accept and walk down a Pride March as a Grand Marshal;
* The young Turk who directed this year's parade, Maurice Michaane is one of the youngest ever (28!).
Here he is getting some gay-straight love from the guv:

Photo courtesy of Chase Wink

Planning Ahead

2009-07-02T11:01:00.003-04:00

While it is still a long way off, my birthday will be coming up on October 2. If you're stumped on what to get me (What do you get for the man who has everything? Where "everything" = "bitterness"), this site will be auctioning off some unique items on that very date including this:

See? I've already done your work for you. No need to thank me.

Wednesday Tent Pitch

2009-07-01T12:13:00.003-04:00

Since I took Monday off, this is a super short week for me, since we also have Friday off for the July 4th weekend. That makes this Wednesday a super-hump day for me.

Nothing super special planned for the weekend. I have a dinner to attend on Friday night out in NJ, then going to a friend's BBQ on Saturday in Brooklyn, then teaching yoga Sunday evening. I like that I only have one thing each day, so the rest of it can be free-form. I probably won't get to the beach this weekend but I might pop over to the pier near Christopher Street and get some sun on the grass lawns with all the boyz and menz. Since it is a few blocks from my gym I can shower off afterwards, which is convenient. We'll see.

What are you up to this weekend?

Speaking of boyz and menz, here are a few that hopefully will set off some fireworks for you.

Spa Castle

2009-06-30T17:31:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I took the day off, slept in, did some errands and met up with my friends Deko and Darren to celebrate Deko's birthday. Deko wanted to go to a place called Spa Castle. It's basically a gigantic...well...spa located on the outskirts of Queens. The place is enormous, like four full floors of saunas, whirlpools, massage and other such ammenities. Yet it's super-affordable, even for a cheapskate like me: $35 for the whole day!

When you arrive you check in at the front desk and they give you what looks like a plastic wrist watch that has a four-digit number on the clock face. That is the number for your account and also for your lockers. You use it to electronically lock and unlock the lockers, and it also serves as an electronic credit card to log any additional purchases you make during your time there.

After checking in, you head to the changing area, men to the left, women to the right. In the first little foyer you take off your shoes and stow them in a small locker. Then you move into the main area and stow the rest of your clothes in the main locker. And I mean all of your clothes. The men's locker room also opens onto the men's whirlpool, steam room and sauna area. No clothes allowed. This is an old-school Korean style spa and in the areas that are sex-segregated, you walk around naked. I'm told the staff will chase you down if you dare to keep a swimsuit on.

Needless to say this was my kind of place. Not that it was crawling with hot guys or anything. On the contrary, most of the guys were pretty average. Some old, some young, some middle aged. Kids blew in and out as well. There was a young father and his little boy would couldn't have been over a year old soaking together. Totes cute. There was also fairly diverse mix of nationalities. Since this is Queens there were all types in attendance: Asians, Eastern Europeans, Latinos, African-Americans and a few run of the mill whiteys like me.

It was interesting to see how the different ethnic types navigated this nakedness. Most Asians seemed utterly unselfconscious about it, as did the Eastern Europeans. Some of the American-born white guys (there with their girlfriends but giving the gals some alone time) looked a bit awkward or initially tried to cover up with a hand or one of the tiny towels provided. I did not see a single African-American guy outside the immediate changing area. They moved from their street clothes immediately into the spa-provided shirts and shorts that you wore in the co-ed areas.

What did surprise me was a group of ultra-orthodox Jews who arrived a few hours after we did. They seemed just as unselfconscious about being naked as did the Asians. And it was very odd to see these guys, with their beards and peyes, traipsing about bare-ass naked. No, they did not wear their yamulkes in the hot tub. Don't be silly. Most looked like you'd expect, but one was very cute. Young, with a smooth body, some nice light musculature and a bubble butt to die for. Amen. There was also a guy, not Jewish, that we dubbed The Silver Fox. 'Nuff said.

The second floor, a co-ed floor, featured a series of dry-heat saunas with various themes: infra-red light, mineral salts, jade, colored light therapy, even gold! All featured the same dry heat, but touted different benefits because of their distinct properties. In the mineral salt sauna I could swear I smelled the minerals leaching out of the blocks of salt rocks that made up the walls. The I smelled the same thing in the gold sauna (real gold on the walls) and realized it was just everyone's dried sweat. We all agreed that sweating while wearing the sauna clothing was kind of gross. But unless you stayed in the men's area, you had no choice, and these saunas were more fun and interesting than the sauna in the men's area, which was also ungodly hot (190 degrees!).

Another amsuing cultural moment: In one of the saunas there was an African-American young man with his Asian girlfriend. When he stood up to leave I noticed that his elastic waistpant spa shorts were deliberately tugged down to show off his underwear, "ghetto" style. I could not believe it. Even at a spa he could not bring himself to actually wear pants around his waist.

Other features at the spa were an outdoor complex of pools with various water jets that would stimulate your back or legs or feet or what-have-you. There were rooms for massages, shiatsu, acupuncture and aroma-therapy (these were all extra). There were massage recliners lining the walls of some open areas, snack bars, and a (very empty) weight room. There was also a room full of recliners that each had their own TV screen. It reminded me and Darren of the movie Wall-E. There were also sleeping areas roped off specifically for people to nap.

A restaurant on the top floor offered pri-fixe Korean meals for $11 and $12. The food was quite good and very filling. For those not so into kimchi, there was a snack bar that offered hot dogs and chips and another one that had bubble teas, smoothies and other drinks. Plus there were water coolers throughout the place to make sure you stayed hydrated. They came with paper cups, but these cups were really paper. I mean, seriously, they were two sheets of paper attached at three edges that opened up like a small paper pocket, which you then filled with water. There was a bit of a learning curve using them.

Another interesting feature of the men's area was that within the pools and hot tubs there were a series of shower stations with low stools and mirrors where guys would sit and soap and rinse themselves and shave. Many used the option of the stools and angles of the mirrors to manscape themsleves 'down there'. The spa supplied bins of disposable raisers as well as toothbrushes. It was handy but also quite wasteful. I shuddered at the piles of one-use toothbrushes that were headed for the landfill.

We ended up staying for a total of five hours! And despite being in water most of the time, I did not get all that "pruney." I also didn't get bored, which was a nice suprise. I find I rarely have the patience to sit in a sauna or steam room at a gym, but here there were so many options and different kinds of pools with different temperatures or herbal additives that you could wander in and out of that I never had to sit too long in one place, yet I still remained relaxed and felt quite blissed-out by the time we left. Grand total including dinner and a bubble tea: $52.

I will definitely be back.

A Very Bloggy Pride

2009-06-29T23:30:00.009-04:00

Pride 2009 has come and gone. But the memories linger on. As do the blisters.

Ye Gods, kids, Someone in a Tree was Someone on His Feet for 7 straight (perhaps not the best word choice) hours on Sunday.

We all met up at the gathering place (West 54th between 6th and 5th) at 11:30AM. Well, most of us did. SOME of us apparently did not get the email that said we didn't need to be there at 11AM as originally noted and wandered around like a lost soul for 3o minutes.

But I quibble. The usual faces gathered and then a whole bunch of not-so-usual faces joined us, in the personages of a whole gaggle of lesbian bloggers from Autostraddle. They basically doubled our numbers and added some much needed diversity to our constituency. While initially the two groups self-segregated, by the time we were fully into the march we had blended nicely.

However, it took three hours of standing around waiting before that marching started. The parade is so massive that it took that long for the groups ahead of us to get going before we could finally begin moving. But move we did. And once the Club Atlantic float merged in front of us and the Peruvian float pulled in behind us, we were on our way.

Both the floats had booming sound systems and at times it felt like we were the blogging filling to a sonic sandwich. A rather cacophanous one at that. Still, the weather was splendid and the crowds welcoming. Even though some folks didn't know what to make of us, they still cheered and waved and smiled.

I'll let my pictures do the talking and you can see the full set here.

At one point we were stopped around 14th Street and some pedestrians crossed in front of us. A sweet young guy in a purple shirt dashed up to me and told me he really enjoyed reading my blog. As he walked away I grinned ear to ear, turned to the guy next to me and said "OK, that just made the entire day for me." Turns out, sweet purple shirt guy was frequent commenter Davis McDavis, so thanks, guy, you totally made the parade for me.

After the parade some of us headed off to the Pier Dance and others went in search of food. I was among the food foragers. We ended up at The Diner on 14th and 9th where I rewarded my starving and blistered self with a massive plate of disco fries (french fries smothered in melted cheese with gravy AND cheese sauce on the side). I don't know why I didn't think to take a picture of them. Probably because my blood sugar was hovering around .00003. I snarfed them all down in addition to a large Caesar salad (to ease my conscience).

I then fell into a coma.

No, actually I then helped a friend that I met up with shop for shorts to wear to Allegria, the after-Pier-Dance dance party. After I saw him off to his disco nap, I stopped by my office to check email and saw on facebook that my friend Jay was out and about and looking for partners in crime.

Since my gym had unfortunately already closed for the day, I took a (much needed) sink bath at the office and headed back out to meet him. He had two other friends with him, visiting from London. We did a mini-bar hop (only two places) but I got a nice little Pride buzz going for a bit. Then the Londoners headed home as they were flying back to the UK the next day. Jay and I wandered a bit more, then I finally punched my ticket and went back to Brooklyn.

All in all, a really terrific Pride weekend.

I took Monday off but you'll have to wait until later on Tuesday to hear about my spa day.

Here are some select images from the full photo set:

The whole kit and kaboodle including him, him, him, him, him, her, him, them, him, him, him and him, among many others.

See, you CAN have you cake and wear it too!

The crowd outside of the New York Public Library

The crowd at....um.........sorry, were you saying something?

The crowd at "holy shit, are they fucking crazy?!"

Some parade pageantry

Fire escape party

The Club Atlantis float

The Peruvian group float

Just your garden variety Radical Faeries

Pacing Myself

2009-06-26T11:59:00.002-04:00

I mentioned obliquely in a previous post that one of the "take-homes" from the yoga retreat I attended over Memorial Day Weekend was an envelope that each of us filled with 30 little scraps of paper. Each scrap had a "mini-goal" that we wrote down. Each day for 30 days we were to take out a mini-goal and work on that as our focus for that day.

Yesterday my goal read "I will walk slowly."

Easy-peasy, right?

I could NOT do it.

All day yesterday, every time I was out on the street, I would be racing along and then remember the goal, and yet I could still not bring myself to slow down. I think it's a New York thing. Not comprehensive, because Lord knows there are enough people on the street who lope along like they have lead weights tied to their ankles and not all of them are tourists. But a large percentage of New Yorkers move quickly. It's not because where we are going is all that important or even that we are running late, though that is often a factor for me since I keep my schedule tightly packed, but mostly because we know that one false move can spiral into a huge delay.

Let's say you are leaving work at 7PM to make an 8PM curtain for a Broadway show. Your office is, at best, a 30 minute trip from downtown to midtown. But you need to stop at the ATM and then grab a bite to eat before you get to the theater, and you want to get there with some time to sit and relax and browse the playbill before the show starts. You leave the office at 7:05 because there are always one or two last minute things you forgot to do before you walk out the door. Then you walk out the door for the 7-10 minute walk to the station. On the street you begin your usual brisk pace, but because there is scaffolding on several blocks (There is always scaffolding somewhere. I think 60% of City sidewalks are covered in scaffolding at any given time) you are stuck behind a young couple dreamily making their way down the block. If you don't blow around them, then you lose a good 2-3 minutes of travel time.

You arrive at your subway station with that 2-3 minute delay to discover that there is a train just pulling out of the station as you enter. You have just missed the train that you would have been on if you hadn't been behind dreamy couple. So you have to wait between 5-10 minutes for the next one to arrive. When it does you get on and then it sits in the station because of "train traffic ahead" or "signal problems" or "police activity." You lose another 3-5 minutes with this.

Because of this delay you miss the express connection at the next stop that could have gotten you to midtown in 2 stops. You don't want to get off and wait for the next express train because it's anyone's guess how long it will take for the next express to arrive so there wouldn't be any benefit to getting off the local. You stay on the local and over the next four stops people variously: hold the doors open for their group of screaming teen friends to get on the train; realize last minute they need to get off the train and jam the door so it won't close so that it has to re-open and they can get off; continuously hold the door open as they ask passengers if this train goes to some obscure stop up in The Bronx.

This adds another cumulative 5 minutes in delays for you. It is now nearly 7:45PM and you still haven't gotten to your stop. You have 15 minutes to get off the train, go to the ATM, get food, eat it and get to the show.

So much for a relaxed start to your evening of theater.

Whereas if you'd blown around the two fucktards in love, you could have potentially caught the earlier train, connected to the express train and arrived in midtown before 7:30PM with a full half hour to get some cash, pick something nice to eat, eat it like a human and not a ravenous weasel and not have to arrive at your theater seat damp with sweat.

"I will walk slowly."

Yeah, good luck with that.

Wednesday Tent Pitch

2009-06-24T11:40:00.003-04:00

Happy Pride Week! I can't say I've done all that much for Pride this week other than be my regular gay self. I went out to dinner in the West Village on Monday and took a Broadway Bodies dance class on Tuesday. That's pretty gay. Also, a reminder for the locals to keep an eye out for the NYC Blogger contingent in the parade on Sunday. We will be fabulous! We will be fierce! We will be furry! And if you catch us near the end of the parade we will probably be cranky and dehydrated!

But as a warm-up to Sunday's big event, here is a parade (see how I did that?) of handsome men from all walks (another one!) of life. Enjoy.

Broadway Bares

2009-06-24T08:00:00.000-04:00

Freaking hysterical. I didn't make it this year, but I will surely buy the calendar.

Marching Orders

2009-06-23T13:02:00.003-04:00

The Annual NYC Pride Parade is this Sunday, commemorating the 40th Anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. Thanks to the initiative of Father Tony, a gaggle of gay bloggers will be marching in the parade, including yours truly. And we have t-shirts! And a banner!

Our contingent is in Section 8 (coincidence? You decide) and we are the tenth group in that section, right behind the Club Atlantis float. That will be a tough act to follow. Also preceding us in Section 8 (so those of you in attendance will know in advance to get those cameras and/or rotted produce ready) will be the Human Rights Campaign Fund, Mastercard Worldwide, and PFLAG of Southwestern Connecticut. Quite the mixed bag. The lead-off marchers for our section will be NEXT Magazine, which is sure to have a float packed with nearly-naked boys. Try not to be too let down when we arrive.

As you can see, the organizers decided to mix things up this year, so all the political action committees or PFLAG chapters aren't marching one after the other. I think this is a good idea. As a past parade watcher, seeing the 14th consecutive gay-friendly church slog by can get stultifiying.

It will be interesting to see what kind of response we will get from the onlookers. Well, I know what response Eric will get, but I wonder if the group as a whole will be ignored, tolerated or cheered. I doubt we'll get the enthusiastic reception that the Gay Officers Action League gets, but hopefully it won't be the derision generated by the Log Cabin Republicans either.

The weather promises to be hot and humid, a perfect recipe for lots of shirtless boys, but there is also a threat of scattered showers, so we may be a soggy bloggy group by the end of the march. Regardless I'm looking forward to it. Hope everyone in the area comes out for the parade. See you Sunday!

Weighty Issues

2009-06-22T15:27:00.005-04:00

Top Ten behaviors that make me cranky at the gym:

10. People who don't put weights away, forcing those of us who are mildly obsessive-compulsive to expend pressure energy and take time away from our workout in order to re-organize the dumbbell weight rack. Fortunately only three guys in the whole gym actually lift the 70-100 lb dumbbells so I haven't suffered a hernia trying to get those back where they belong.

9. When the gym runs out of the one palatable protein drink they carry, forcing me to decide which nasty-ass drink I'm going to have to suffer through in its place.

8. When someone has used the drinking fountain and pushed the activation bar too hard so that the water doesn't shut off. Dude, save it for the bench press.

7. Creepy guys who linger in the locker room, puttering around endlessly so they can watch you change for the shower or towel off afterward.

6. Hot guys that take too freaking long to change for the shower.

5. Multiple machine or bench hogs. Seriously, you need to use the racked bench press AND the only pair of 35lb dumbbells AND a mat? And you need to rest approximately 5 minutes between each 20 second half-assed set you do, although not resting your jaw as you yap with your friend, or worse, the trainer who should know better?

4. Similarly, people who put their water bottle or towel or magazine on a bench or piece of equipment and then vanish so you don't know if you can use it or not so you putter around for a few minutes trying to decide what to do and then the minute you start to move their stuff off the bench they immediately re-materialize and act all huffy, when they'd just spent the last five minutes hitting on the cute guy who took too long to change for the shower.

3. Cute guys that don't use the locker room. Come on! Throw me a bone here!

2. Cute guys that actually smile and respond when you say hello and with whom you slowly build a rapport with whenever you see them, and respond favorably when you drop gay hints, and laugh at your jokes, and have really sexy eyes, and just when you finally work up the nerve to see if they want to get a cup of coffee tell you what they were up to last weekend with their boyfriend.

1. Cute guys that don't smile or respond when you say hello and really aren't that hot when you get down to it and goodness but these grapes are sour.

I Got Nuthin'

2009-06-19T15:15:00.002-04:00

I felt I needed to post something today, having not posted anything yesterday, but I really have nothing interesting to report.

You may notice that I have a new feature on my sidebar: A link to my Selfari account so you can see the (mostly) crap I'm reading. I do like the program because in the event that my home burns down or I am forced to move into a cardboard box under a bypass and have to get rid of all my books, I'll still have a record of all the novels I've read and owned over the years. It makes me happy.

I've been meaning to do a kitten post for a while but I'm just not home enough and when I am, taking pictures or videos of the kids isn't high on the list. Maybe before the month is out.

Minor upcoming performance news updates:
I've been cast as Harry Beaton in the Blue Hill Troupe production of Brigadoon. All you out-of-towners who missed The Sorcerer (and some who didn't) can start making your travel plans for the weekends of October 30th and November 6th (although this is a smaller role than I had in the other production).

I've been currently working backstage on the St. Bart's Players production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. It runs through this weekend. A lot of my friends are in the show and they are having a great time, but I must confess I'm glad I didn't audition. It looks exhausting.

I will also be performing in a staged reading of You're Good Man, Charlie Brown, to benefit the St. Bart's Players, the weekend of September 11 (yeah, maybe not the best date pick, but maybe you'll want a distraction that day).

That's all I got. Hopefully there will be all kinds of adventures and insights and epiphanies over the weekend that I can report on next week. We'll see.

Wednesday Tent Pitch

2009-06-17T12:40:00.006-04:00

During the Memorial Day Weekend yoga retreat I attended, one of the tasks we were given was to write down 30 little mini-goals on slips of paper and put them in an envelope. Every day after the retreat we were to pull out one goal and implement it during that day.

Today's mini-goal reads: "avoid sarcasm." Yeah, right.

Dammit!

Clearly I have my work cut out for me today.

Speaking of cut (see how I did that?), here are some photos of ripped and rippling guys who are truly a cut above the rest (see how I did that a second time?). Hope you enjoy them.

Hitting the Heights

2009-06-16T12:00:00.004-04:00

There is something special about watching a show when people you know are in it. Even more special when when the person you know is stepping out of the ensemble to cover a major role. And even more special-ish when the show is a hit musical on Broadway.

I've talked about the years that I was a regular at Eighty-Eights - a fabulous piano bar that used to be on West 10th Street. During that time I met many people and made many friends. Tony was one. He was this sweet guy that would show up pretty regularly and sometimes he would sing solos. He did a very cute, Spanish/English version of "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" that was always a crowd-pleaser. He made a good living in advertising or something like that, but always wanted to be a performer. So shortly after I met him, he decided to chuck it all and started trying to make it in the business.

It took a while and he had a few minor successes that he would keep us informed about: small shows in hole in the wall theaters, scattered voice-over gigs and the like. Then he got the part of Hula Mouse on Mr. Roger's Neighborhood and I thought that was pretty great.

And then he got cast in a Broadway show! A Broadway show written by Paul Simon, directed and choreographed by modern dance genius Mark Morris and starring pop-star Mark Anthony. How could it miss?

The show was called Capeman, opened to uniformly disastrous reviews and closed two months after opening. Just as a frame of reference for those of you with no, well, frame of reference, a modestly successful show usually runs for at least for six months.

That was 1998.

Fast forward ten years and Tony finally made it back to Broadway. And not just any old Broadway show, the 2008 Tony Award-winning Best Musical In the Heights. He has been in the ensemble for most of this time, occasionally covering the small role of the ice cream vendor. But this weekend, he began a one-week stint covering the role of the father, Kevin, which is a major part. He sent out an email about it and I grabbed some cheap tickets so I could see his debut this past Sunday night.

He was so good.

I could not stop smiling every time he was on stage. That is, when I wasn't crying because while the show is upbeat overall, it is very moving. I'd seen it in its Off-Broadway incarnation a few years ago, before Tony joined the company, and the show has gotten even better. It packs a wallop.

Tony knew I was coming and put my name on the visitors list at the stage door so I got to come on the stage after the show and meet up with him. Of course, I forgot to bring a camera and a friend's iPhone couldn't get a decent picture so I got no pictures of me on a Broadway stage. Oh well.

Afterwards, Tony invited me to join him and a gang of friends from the show for drinks, since Monday is their day off and conveniently, I was taking the day off as well. We went to a little place on West 46th and I had TWO whole cocktails. That is a lot for me. I also had a baked brie and some breaded green beans - really good! We talked and joked and it was great to catch up with Tony, as we've not had much chance to get together in a while. Everyone there was involved in the theater in some way, either in the show, or they had worked on shows with someone or backstage, etc. Even - imagine! - the waitress and bartender at the restaurant, who had just come off a tour of Sweeney Todd.

Around midnight we ran out of steam and said our good nights.

After this week covering the major role, Tony has to step back into the chorus. But hopefully he can get some casting agents to see him while he is covering and this may lead to better roles in the future. I hope so because he really is good. It was a real treat to see him up there and I hope to have many more such opportunities.

12 of 12

2009-06-13T00:16:00.010-04:00

Welcome to another monthly addition of 12 of 12.

This time it coincided with an event that I was co-chairing at my synagogue - a dinner for young adults in their 20's and 30's. The featured event was a showing of artwork by a young artist. I realized that while I've mentioned my synagogue a lot, I've never really shown you what it looks like.

This is my synagogue.

This is my rabbi.

This is the Aaron Kodesh, or the ark where we keep the Torahs.

These are our Torahs.
The silver one in the center is sephardic, meaning from the Spanish and Mediterranean tradition.
The others are in the Eastern European tradition, which is ashkenazi.
The golden images framing the ark are the symbols for the 12 tribes of Israel.

Stained glass windows depicting the first four days of creation.

The other three days and a final window of general Judaic themes.

A "tree of life" plaque to honor and memorialize members.

The rec hall where the dinner was held.

The featured art work. It is 10 feet by 7 feet, paper and colored pencil.
The artist is Fred "Kasha" Simon.

Featured framed elements from the work.

More framed elements.

The artist up close and personal.

Shabbat Shalom!

Keeping It Bottled Up

2009-06-12T12:31:00.007-04:00

I understand the whole "plastic in the oceans" thing, but why do people come down so hard on bottled water drinkers? Like it's the craziest thing they've ever heard of:

"But water is free, why pay for it! That's so stupid!"

Because when I am walking down the street and suddenly realize I am thirsty, I can't reach into my shoulder bag and pull out my kitchen sink or a Brita pitcher, smartass.

And since I don't own a car, spewing out pollutants and fouling the atmosphere, I can't keep a re-usable bottle in my glove compartment or cup holder.

I need a portable bottle for that water. And, what, does soda come in water-proof hemp bags or something? Is anyone giving dirty looks to all those folks chugging their 16 oz plastic Coke bottles? Meanwhile instead of healthfully re-hydrating themselves with water, these folks are drinking a fluid that mechanics use to clean out airplane engines. Now who's the crazy one?

I try and re-use the few bottles I do purchase, but I don't always remember to pack one and sometimes bringing along a shoulder bag is inconvenient or impractical. And considering that, for proper health, one should be drinking at least 2 liters of water (or four crazy bottles) a day, that's a lot to lug around if - like me - you leave home around 7 or 8 in the morning and don't get home again until 10 or 11 at night.

And by the way, that's 2 liters of water, not coffee or fruit juice or soda. Those beverages can dehydrate you while you think you're rehydrating yourself because of the sodium or other chemicals they contain. Plus all kinds of chemicals, high fructose corn syrup or other additives are fouling your body. Meanwhile, your beverage containers will be ending up in the same landfill as my water bottle.

So please, let's stop the pontificating about the evils of bottled water consumption. Let's save the contempt for something that is truly destroying our world: American Idol.

Wednesday Tent Pitch

2009-06-10T11:46:00.004-04:00

Energy is mighty low today. Any thoughts that life would get slower after The Sorcerer closed have been ground into powder under the heels of my racing feet as I dash from one thing to the next. Mind you, these are all things I'm enjoying doing, but the pace is breakneck. I really need to start saying "no."

However, I don't think I'd say "no" to any of the following fellows, unless the question was "do you want me to stop?"

How say you?

Tony Recap

2009-06-09T12:42:00.003-04:00

OK, you asked for it, so here it is.

In a nutshell: The most enjoyable clusterfuck I've ever watched.

Sound issues abounded, screwing things up all evening long. Mics not working, the wrong people miked, horrible sound imbalances. Eesh. Plus there was some astoundingly bad camera work. During the "In Memorium" section the camera kept panning around - away from the screen showing the names and faces of those industry people that had died this year. WTF?

On the brighter side, Neil Patrick Harris was a phenomenal, if under-utilized, host. I will get to the reason's behind his under-utilization in a moment. But he was funny and engaging and looked super-cute in his suit. Yummy.

Oh, yeah, and Billy Elliot won, like, everything that wasn't nailed down. I haven't seen the show so I can't speak to whether I think it was well-deserved or a travesty.

Highlights included Angela Lansbury winning for Best Featured Actress in a Play (Blithe Spirit). She still is so freaking classy and delightful. Love her. Another great moment was Carrie Fischer introducing the musical number from Next to Normal - a musical about mental illness. Really? Also, the point when Brett Michels (of Poison fame) walked face-first into a descending backdrop. A moment of wonder.

Hair won Best Revival as well as Best Cast That Looks Good Naked, and Most Fun Live Performance, although they were rivaled by Rock of Ages and Mitchell Jarvis' flirting with Liza - a total "pee in your pants" moment.

Other big winners: God of Carnage for Best Play, Geoffrey Rush for Best Actor in a Play (Exit the King), and Marcia Gay Harden for Best Actress in a Play (God of Carnage). The full list is here.

Acceptance speech hightlights: Alice Ripley losing her shit and getting a bit too method, screaming a quote from JFK, after winning Best Actress in a Musical (Next to Normal); the three Billy Elliot boys acting cuter than a basket of puppies when they got all overwhelmed sharing the Best Actor in Musical award; Gregory Jbara (surprise! Billy Elliot!) bringing his wife up onstage with him - sweet and classy.

And finally, the most important category: Men Who Were Featured During the Tonys That I Would Like to Sleep With (in no particular order): Gavin Creel, Will Swenson, Neil Patrick Harris, James Carpinello, Wesley Taylor, Aaron Tveit, J. Robert Spencer, Stephen Pasquale, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Marc Kudisch, Matthew Warchus, Raul Esparza, Matt Cavanaugh, Cody Green and that guy sitting next to Jennifer Damiano (I think it was Jonathan Wright).

So, the reason NPH didn't get nearly enough screen time or why more time was not given to highlight the nominated plays, or other plays and musicals currently playing on Broadway, or even people who won actual awards(!) like lighting or costume design (snippets of the acceptance speeches were played from an earlier taping), was that the producers chose to spotlight a bunch of touring companies. Yes, I get that those perfomers are unsung laborers in the theater world, but this was not the time and place for it, especially when each nominated musical had a solo number plus a ten minute opening number medley featuring all the musicals (see: clusterfuck).

Worse, one touring company musical number featured all the guys playing the Frankie Valle role in Jersey Boys, from the Las Vegas, Chicago, and other companies. Then they brought out the guy currently doing it on Broadway. And it suddenly became very clear why this guy was on Broadway and the rest were on tour. Ouch.

Still, NPH managed to hit a home run with this closing number, sung over the final credits. Genius.

Love Child

2009-06-09T12:27:00.002-04:00

Behold: Captain Spirk

from Towleroad, (via he who laughs)

I may need to change my pants.

Things That Made Me Happy This Weekend

2009-06-08T13:28:00.003-04:00

- I finally saw Star Trek. I believe I may have ovulated when Spock and Uhura made out.

- I taught four yoga classes. (Exhausting but much needed cash was earned)

- I got to hang out with my buddies from The St. Bart's Players that I haven't seen in months. I'm doing backstage running crew for their production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and this was their tech weekend.

- Roger Federer FINALLY won the French Open. w00t!

- A few of my Brooklyn homies came over to watch the Tony Awards on Sunday night. Technically the first actual party/gathering in my apartment since I moved in fourteen months ago.

- The previous item forced me to properly clean the apartment, which I hadn't done since Passover.

- I ordered my t-shirt that I will be wearing to march with the gay bloggers at the NYC Pride Parade on 6/28.

- Something else that may or may not be discussed in the future. Only time will tell.