Thoughts: Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy the pics.

I'm still not sure what this holiday is supposed to celebrate especially after just finishing US History for Dummies, but whatever. Have a good one, anyway. Hope you enjoyed the pics.

PS I'm not a big fan of Turkey but I do love Ambrosia. Ambrosia is food of the white-trash-Gods! Delish!

Air Travel Lust

I finally got frisked at the airport in a way I enjoyed. A very macho guy was conducting my frisk and he reached with both hands toward my belt buckle as if he was going to undo my belt buckle. His hands sort of lingered, and I found it momentarily exciting. Then he reached around to pat my backside, but when he did he was in front of me, so he reached around like he was hugging me. It was all strangely erotic.

I've been frisked numerous times, but this was the first time I actually enjoyed it. I wasn't, however, thrilled with the way he handled my laptop, but oh well, you can't have everything.

Now I'm on the plane in business class and I'm so fat it feels like coach, and the guy sitting next to me is so hot, so my type. He's on a cell phone discussing a construction job he's doing in Detroit tomorrow. He keeps calling the guy on the other line "buddy." "Hey, buddy." "Okay, buddy." I don't believe I've ever called anyone buddy, not even the "buddies" I use to meet at Blow Buddies, a sex club in San Francisco.

Anyway, this construction man next to me has enormous fingers. I'm falling in love with his fingers. I fear this is going to be a very long flight as I try to sneak peaks at his very manly, very sexy, enormous fingers.

He watches me type before takeoff. I type with one finger. As I close my laptop he says, "Wow, that's amazing how fast you can go with one finger." I think to myself, "You have no idea. And how ironic that you were contemplating my fingers at the same time I was contemplating
yours."

Flash forward two hours, I now know everything about his life. Everything. The man never shuts up. I know about his affairs, his three children, his crazy wife, his visits to strip clubs, the death of his father, his legal problem, his wife's C-section, his pool, his John Deere lawnmower he bought from a friend for $300. I could pass a test on this man. I feel like his girlfriend. He tells me about the one time he hit his kid at a barbecue because the boy crashed the family three-wheeler into a tree.

I have a gift. Well, I'm not sure if it's a gift or as curse, but people will tell me anything. Anything and everything.

I would have turned away and ignored him if he wasn't so fucking sexy. I couldn't stop staring at his fingers. He goes to the gym every morning at 6 am, and it shows. It's amazing what we tolerate from people we want to have sex with. Had he been ugly, I would have cut the conversation off after 10 minutes, but for two "straight" hours I listened and fantasized and listened and fantasized.

He's gone now. I miss his manliness. I feel sad knowing I will never see his dick and relieved knowing I will never have to act interested in his words again.

I know where he is though, the name of his company, where he lives, where he works, his last name, his first name. Maybe I will look him up someday. He made a few homophobic comments followed by the phrase, "I got nothing against anybody; people can do what they want but..."

I believe he can be had.

Hedwig and the Angry...who cares.

Seriously I do not get it. I guess I'm not hip.

There's no denying that John Cameron Mitchell is a very talented actor/performer but this Hewdig thing is one of the most overrated pieces of entertainment in the last 10 years.

Am I supposed to care about this Hedwig character, because I don't.

A friend dragged me to the play in NYC while Mitchell was still in it and I was sooooo bored. I left stupefied.

Then the Hedwig movie comes out and the fast-paced trailer looked promising and the reviews were great so I held out hope.

It's lonely not liking material that everyone else seems to love.

So the movie is on tv tonight and I watch it and I have the exact same feeling I had all those years ago at the theater: total fucking boredom.

I just simply do not care. There was one moment in the first hour that I really liked, a character with stringy hair is looking at a flyer announcing auditions for a European tour of Rent and his/her expression is one of utter confusion.

Great moment! I related because I don't get Hedwig and I don't get Rent, either. But more about that later. Maybe I'm just not interested in East Village-grungy-undergroud-type-people-who-sing.

It's odd, I admire John Cameron Mitchell and I admire Jonathan Larson but the phenomenons they both created just don't speak to me on any level.

Oh well.

Halloween H20 DVD

Just caught Halloween H20 on DVD. Again.

God, I love this movie. It's so lean, so focused and Jamie Lee Curtis is perfect.

It's so fun watching her go after Michael Myers.

I'll never forget seeing it in a packed theatre in Times Squre opening weekend. I saw it twice the first weekend.

The scene where Jamie Lee Curtis grabs an axe and goes after her brother is one of my single favorite film moments of the last 10 years.

If you like action-horror-suspense-movies go rent this or put it on your Netflix account or tivo it.

And Josh Hartnett is in it too and he's fucking cute.

Jesus is Magic starring Sarah Silverman

I can't recomend this movie enough. I can't stop thinking about it. I was howling. HOWLING! I was laughing louder than anyone else around me and I'm not a loud laugher (usually) but this movie kicked my ass.

I really don't have much to say about it other than that while watching it I felt alive. I felt that I was watching someone very important with something to say and not afraid to say it.

Freedom of speech is alive and well. I wanted more! I wanted her to keep talking. I wanted to run out and drag everyone I know into the theatre.

Go! Go! Go!

It's funny, it's timely, and most of all, it's dangerous!

I think I might be in love with Sarah Silverman.

Derailed

Derailed is a very good thriller and that's all it is. Yes, it's predictable and yes, we've seen these plot twists over and over but never-the-less as I watched I had a feeling of dread and I was genuinely concerned about what would happen to Clive Owen's character. I was involved. I was "thrilled." So, yes, I'm reccommending this movie even though as I write this, the next day, I feel like I'm writing about a movie I saw 10 years ago.

Ringo Starr

I'm at the Grove tonight in LA seeing a movie and I'm standing in line to buy popcorn and I look over and right next to me is Ringo Starr looking exactly like he does in the above picture with two women who look exactly like the two women standing next to him in the above pic.

I got the pic off his website. Don't sue me Ringo, I'm a fan.

He's talking fairly loudly, not being obnoxious, but not trying to hide either, he was just being Ringo. His strong British accent came through loud and clear.

I immediately thought of the Beatles on Ed Sullivan and how they came to America and changed the world. I thought of all those teenage girls chasing him down the street. How odd now all these years later to see him standing in line buying popcorn and no one noticing.

I kept looking around to see if others were noticing and no one was. I felt, in that moment, like I was the only person at the Grove who knew who Ringo Starr was.

So I quietly say to the young girl running the cash register, "look, there's Ringo Starr." Her face stays blank. She is unimpressed. "Ringo Starr", I repeat. It's clear she has no idea who he is.

"You don't know Ringo Starr?"

"No", she says.

Again I say, "You don't know Ringo Starr???"

I can not comprehend that she does not know Ringo Starr. So I say, "you know, the Beatles???"

She continues to stare at me blankly.

"The Beatles!" My voice gets louder.

Finally she gives in, "I think, I've heard of them."

I'm speechless. I say, "You don't know The Beatles? Oh my God."

She gives me my popcorn and my cup and I go to the soda fountain to fill it up. I stand next to one of Ringos friends and I'm dying to say to her, "Can you believe that girl running the cash register doesn't know who the Beatles are???" But instead I say nothing as we both stand there filling up our sodas.

I was curious what movie Ringo was seeing but my movie was already in previews so I hurried ahead glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone would stop him for an autograph.

No one did, at least not while I watched.

I wanted to scream out,"One of the members of the single most important band in the history of music is in our midst here tonight." Am I overreacting. No I'm not. The Beatles are...THE BEATLES!

I'm not sure what impacted me more, seeing Ringo, or talking to the young girl at the counter who had no idea who he was.

I slip into my theatre to see Derailed with Jennifer Aniston knowing full well the movie will not match the thrill of my brief brush with a musical legend in the popcorn line at The Grove on November, 19, 2005.

I am a HIPPO

I saw a Discovery Channel show on hippos last night, and I have decided that I am a hippo. Hippos are very fat. They love the water. They are very social but guarded. When people see hippos, they are intrigued and charmed and want to get closer. But be warned: Hippos will turn on you and eat you for lunch.

I am a hippo. I am not proud of my hippo-ness, but Arthur Miller said it best when he wrote, "Part of knowing who we are is knowing we are not someone else." And part of the aging process for me has been about figuring out who I am and who I am not. Finding out who I am has been exciting and painful and freeing, and I struggle every day with wanting to be a different animal. Dogs are nice, man’s best friend. Goldfish are sweet and harmless. Giraffes are tall and probably see things in a unique and elevated way. But I am not a dog or a goldfish or a giraffe. I am hippo.

To enjoy the rest of my life in peace, I must learn to accept being a hippo and live in places where hippos belong and surround myself with people who love, admire and understand hippos. If you get close to a hippo and then find yourself disappointed that your hippo is not a puppy, who is to blame? You or the hippo? And if a tough independent hippo lives his life pretending to be a sweet charming goldfish, then that is one delusional hippo, don't you think? An honest hippo is the best hippo. I'm looking forward to living the rest of my life as an honest and happy hippo.

Besides, hippos live much longer than goldfish.

Has Mel Gibson lost his mind?

The trailer is out for the new Mel Gibson movie, Apocalypto. I promise you this movie is going to bomb soooo big at the box office. You heard it hear first, kids. Anway, he has inserted a quick shot of himself into the trailer smoking a cigarette. It's very funny. It goes by so fast you have to watch the trailer frame by frame. Do I have too much time on my hands or what?

PS The above pic is taken from the trailer.

Click here to view the trailer http://www.apple.com/trailers/touchstone/apocalypto/

I forgive you, Tom Cruise.

I know you've had a rough year. The press have beaten up on you. Hell, everyone has beaten up on you.

But I just downloaded the new Mission Impossible 3 trailer so all is forgiven.

Dude, that trailer kicks ass! I watched it 5 times.

No matter how much you infuriate us you keep giving the world consistently entertaining movies.

Your mission if you choose to take it, is to keep making fun movies and don't hire your sister to be your fucking publicist again.

Cheers

See ya, next summer.

To view the trailer go here: http://movies.yahoo.com/feature/missionimpossible3.html

Speak up, Harriett!

Harriet Miers got screwed. I'm not sure who screwed her, maybe she even screwed herself but she got screwed none the less. She was nominated to the highest court in the land by a man who was elected by a majority of Americans and yet she was disposed of without ever having her voice heard. Why didn't she speak? I heard Bill Frist read her statement, I heard everyone else speak for her and against her but I never heard her. She will always remain a mystery.

Maybe she is unqualified. Anyone who worships at the alter of George W. Bush is of questionable mind but still, Harriett, step up to a fucking microphone! Paris Hilton speaks louder than you. Within days Miss Miers became a punchline for Democrats and a punching bag for Republicans. Where were her friends?

Any enemy of George Will and Trent Lott is a friend of mine. It doesn't bother me when people beat up on the bullshit-artist formerly known as Condalezza Rice, but Harriett reminded me of sweet Mormon women I knew growing up. The type of women who knew I was gay but still accepted me because I was a cute kid. The type of tireless women who were the first to arrive at a potluck and the last ones to leave.

And what do we get instead of Miers? Another middle-aged white guy! My heart sank when I saw his round, fat, white, Republican face on the Drudge Report.

Goodbye Harriet Miers.

I will always remember you for the trial you endured and I hope you weren't too damaged by the beating you suffered. You did agree to the adventure but did you ever suspect, in a million years, you'd be treated like a third-class citizen with no judicial knowledge?

Trent Lott, the racist-asshole-gentleman-from-Missisipi said, "In a few weeks no one will remember the name of Harriet Miers."

Fuck you, Trent, I'll remember it and I will always wonder about the sound of her voice and what, if anything, was inside her head.

Jarhead

I learned a powerful lesson tonight at Jarhead.

No matter how talented the director is, how good the actors are, how much money you have to spend on production, a movie needs, above all, a script and story.

A topic, a subject, interesting characters, scenery, images; none of these are story, they are simply elements and a movie without a story will never soar.

Jarhead is full of awesome elements: great actors, honest performances, confident directing, wonderful lighting, interesting music but guess what it doesn't have, there is simply no script, no story. There are wonderfully written scenes but scenes do not a script make.

Story is everything and there is no story. I can hear the filmmakers arguing that the lack of story IS the story but I say bullshit.

As a writer who has written plays with no plot I assure you that it is not a good idea and audiences are most often compelled when a real and urgent story is being told.

When an audience is fed only interesting characters, cool scenes, nice dialogue they eventually lose interest and that is what happened tonight at Jarhead in New York City in a packed Imax theatre.

We got bored, restless and eventually disconnected. We kept waiting for the plot to begin and it never did. We kept thinking it was starting but then it would trail off and the move would start again and eventuallly this repititive cycle grew tiring.

War is boring, repetitive, tiring, slow and tedious but great movies are not. I reccomend it for sure for all the wonderful and compelling scenes, a scene with a lost horse covered in oil is one of the saddest images I've seen all year but as a whole it will ultimately dissapoint you.

On a side note: Peter Sarsgard is once again woefully miscast. It makes me fucking angry. He is a talented and intelligent actor and I would never deny that but it's cruel to cast him in roles that he is simply wrong for. He is not a US Marshal (Flight Plan) and he is NOT a US Marine (Jarhead). Seriously, he looks fucking ridiculous in these macho parts. Cast him properly, I'm begging!

Also the trailer for the new Spielberg movie, Munich, was riveting. I hope the movie is, too.

And speaking of trailers, King Kong kicks ass. I love you Peter Jackson. I'll be there opening day!

Doom

People who eat dog shit have no right to complain about the taste.

I love shitty movies so telling you Doom sucked doesn't really feel right. I read the reviews, they were horrible. I saw the trailers, they were horrible. Most video game movies are horrible. I knew all this going in but still I bought a ticket? Why? Cause I must enjoy the taste of dog shit.

I'm not gonna critique this movie except to tell you I left after 30 minutes. Basically, I left after I was done with my popcorn and there was nothing left to distract me.

At times my focus wandered over to the red exit sign, I would stare blankly at it, thinking, and then suddenly realize I'm supposed to be watching the movie. That's how uninvolved I was.

I will however use this time to show you how smart I am. In the movie is an actress who plays an American scentist. She has a brother who is an American Marine. I knew right away that this actress was British because her America accent was so bad. SO BAD!

A Brit doing a bad American accent is so distracting. They tend to try and flatten everything out and it ends up sounding part southern, part New York, part California and part British. Sort of the way Madonna sounds when she forgets she's from Michigan (but in reverse).

So I came home and checked the Internet Movie Database for Doom and sho-enough she was in Die Another Day and I'm certain she kept her accent in that movie.

I'm so fucking smart. (I wish)

For another Brit doing a distracting American accent see Sean Bean in North Country.