Monday, March 24, 2008
It Was Fun While it Lasted
| Hey, folks -- thanks for checking in on East End Boys & West End Girls. FYI, we're on the move. This was a grand experiment, and even tho' it didn't work out, it was great fun. From here on out, you can continue to read More Cowbell at I Need More Cowbell, and you can check up on Maine Gay and Red Seven over at their new blog, Jungle Red. We'll see you there! Labels: Maine Gay, More Cowbell, Red Seven  |
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Sunday Morning Coffee - March 23, 2008
 Happy Easter everyone!When I think about Easter, I actually find myself thinking about Spring. That used to mean the occasional warm breeze and the flowers coming to life. When I lived in Washington, it meant the beauty of cherry blossom season. Then I moved to Maine. Spring now means daytime tempuratures above freezing and patches of snow melted enough that I can see parts of the back yard if I look really close. Ah, perception is a beautiful thing. Let's take a look at how some other bloggers are perceiving the world this week. Lately I've found that little things are triggering memories - it may be a word, a picture, a sound, something on the street or even a taste or smell. Suddenly a long-forgotten event or person springs to mind... Read the full post "Supper With Friends" at: Willy Or Won't He. ...Babs and I both take him for an asshole, but I can deal with assholes...hell, I married 3 of them... Read the full post "Full Moon" at: Yellowdog Granny. ...I spent about 20 minutes online trying to understand how Bakersfield, Rohnert Park and Sacramento were zero miles from my apartment whereas Signal Hill was at least two miles... Read the full post "A Pain In The Neck" at: A Life In The Day. ...Even the women in the gift shop at the Milles Collines (our hotel) told me she was HIV positive and needed help as she was going to be soon evicted from her home. It really does become overwhelming... Read the full post "Personal Income NGO - Not Something I Want To Become" at: Acid Reflux. ...Cell phone dies, I leave it dead until the next time I need to make a call. Cell phone gets left overnight in car, I don't even know it's missing until next day. Cell phone gets deliberately turned off for hours at a time and when it gets turned back on there's too many messages to deal with... Read the full post "Call Me, Call Me Anytime. Except I Probably Won't Answer" at: All Things Bitter. ...My father found his activist mission in the black church. Many a Civil Rights era person went to church for courage, strength and spiritual fuel. The Movement was often organized in the black church, Mamie Till confronted a nation with its injustice in a black church and one of the greatest tragedies of it took place at a church... Read the full post "By Request, My Thoughts" at: Angry Black Bitch. ...in moments of stress, where people seem on the verge of panic, I'll be naturally trying to under-react and calm the whole situation down. But my reason for doing so is not as heroic as it sounds: it's because I think I really still can't deal with openly expressed emotion... Read the full post "Stiff Upper Lip, You Know, Old Chap" at: Broken Whole. ...It's amazing what sort of child entertainment value that eighty-year-old kid can squeeze out of a blank piece of paper and a pair of scissors... Read the full post "A Week With The In-Laws" at: Euro Like Me. ...Please, someone with a grown daughter tell me this phase ends at fifteen & a half, because I’m not sure I can make it to her 18th birthday without wanting to wring her angsty little neck... Read the full post "Hamburg Bound" at: Euro Trippen. ...This would elicit shrieks of “Do it again Dad!” from us kids and the low tones of Doris muttering “If you do that again Johnny, I’m going to kill you.” All the while the old man laughing like an idiot... Read the full post "Driving Lessons" at: Evilganome. Labels: Maine Gay, Sunday Morning Coffee |
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
On Obama's "Race" Speech
| Yesterday, Democratic Presidential Candidate Barack Obama delivered one of the most important speeches of his career, possibly just behind the speech he delivered at the 2004 Democratic National Convention that caused a nation of cynics to sit up and say, “Who’s that guy?” And in many ways, this speech, delivered at the Constitution Center in Philadelphia, helped to answer that question. You see, Barack Obama, in case you hadn’t noticed, is black. It’s an obvious statement, and yet it’s a significant part of his identity that he had never truly addressed as part of his campaign, before that Philadelphia speech. Many Americans (most of them white, it should be added) were probably just fine with that. They didn’t believe that it was important for Sen. Obama to speak at length about the color of his skin, secure in their sincere belief that a black person is just like a white person, only with a little more pigment.  But Barack Obama did an admirable job of challenging those beliefs yesterday, effectively tying the opportunity gap between blacks and whites in America to our history of legalized discrimination and using his own life story as “the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas” to connect the color of a person’s skin to life experiences that ultimately shape a person’s beliefs, values, and outlook, disproving the notion that underneath, we’re all the same.It was an outstanding speech and, to my mind, Obama’s finest moment in what has become the longest Presidential primary season in America’s history. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a speech that Sen. Obama gave willingly; rather, he was forced to address the issues of race and racism after his former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, became a hot topic of discussion when excerpts from several of his sermons were uploaded to YouTube and became instant fixtures during the 24-hour news cycle that preceded Obama’s eloquent and thoughtful response. And so, while speaking to America about the reality of our current racial divide, Sen. Obama took the time to “condemn” selected comments of his former pastor, calling them “appalling.” Whether or not Barack Obama was truly appalled or simply in disagreement with Rev. Wright, I do not know; what is clear to me is that Obama had no other choice but to denounce these passages with the strongest possible language if his campaign were to continue. Forgive me if I sound a tad cynical, but I’ve lived through a few political seasons and I’ve picked up a few things along the way. But what I didn’t expect, and what surprised me, was that Obama maintained that while some of Wright’s comments might be offensive to himself and others, the anger that fueled the sermons was both real, and – given the history of the black experience in America – somewhat justified. The truth is, we white people tend to dislike black people who express anger. We prefer black people like Sen. Obama, who talk endlessly about “hope” and “unity” and “change,” never once letting it slip that throughout the history of this “land of the free,” black people have been enslaved, discriminated against, and segregated into inferior schools and neighborhoods without adequate resources or police protection. Even those who don’t believe that the history of one generation will dramatically affect the lives of the next, the more recent events in New Orleans and Jena, Louisiana are articles of evidence to show us that a true meritocracy in America is still a goal, not yet a reality. The way I see it, black people in America have every right to be angry. Their ancestors were brought to this country against their will and ever since they have been discriminated against, often violently, and denied equal access. Any societal gains they have been afforded were achieved through civil disobedience which was initially met with billy clubs and prison sentences. And despite the protestations of well-meaning white people, the fight is not yet over. If I were black in this country, I’d be angry. I know this because a) I’m gay in this country, and b) I’m angry. I live in a heterosexist society that rewards straight people with unearned privileges at my expense. The history of the GLBT community is filled with blatant injustice, outright hatred, and too many violent deaths to count or comprehend. Today, laws exist that separate straight people from gay people, forcing the latter into the role of second-class citizen. I have faith that these laws will soon be repealed (“soon” being a relative term, but I hope for it within my lifetime) through the hard work and dedication of activists and courageous allies – but I know from looking at other civil rights movements in America that changing the laws do not change all hearts and minds, and I know that gay people will face similar obstacles for the next hundred years or more, just for being born the way they are. And it pisses me off. One can only imagine how angry I’d be if I had the institutions of slavery and Jim Crow to reflect on. So, for what it’s worth: kudos to Sen. Barack Obama, for holding up a mirror to our idealistic but flawed society and inviting us to take a look at ourselves, in all our shame and all our glory. While his speech has received almost universal praise from the pundits and prognosticators in the national media, the reaction of the electorate was predictably mixed. It would seem that some of us didn’t like what we saw in the mirror. But sadly, the truth isn’t always pretty. Labels: Diversity and Social Justice, Politics, Red Seven |
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Sunday Morning Coffee - March 16, 2008
| Good morning boys & girls. Things have been crazy for me here in Maine. The election is less than three months away, which has put everyone into work-crazy-hours mode. So I apologize for the lack of posts this week. Lucky for Sunday Morning Coffee, others have been more diligent about keeping up. Let's see what wonderful articles we found this week... ...He'd lost a lot of weight from the illness and then the surgery, and I remember watching him - as frighteningly thin as a WWII concentration camp survivor - sitting on our living room recliner with a legal pad in his lap, scribbling away as if his life depended on it. And in a way, it did... Read the full post "Still Waiting" at: Love, Elizabeth. As valid as my occasional complaints of apathy, lack of engagement etc. are when I discuss some of the young people I teach, it's days like today that make me realize that the vast majority of young adults completely rock!... Read the full post "On Being An Ally" at: Blue Alto. ...At the time, we were both in rather bad relationships. I was with the psycho bitch from hell and she was with her twin sister – psycho bitch from Florida…equally as hot as hell, but add the humidity and it’s frickin’ unbearable... Read the full post "Happy Anniversary" at: Random Thoughts and Acts of Stupidity. ...It’s like a pre-emptive strike, one that is based on the worst possible accusation that a white person can imagine. The intent is to shut down the conversation while sympathetic white people gasp and nod along... Read the full post "He Called Me A Racist!" at: Resist Racism. ...As if the mere fact that a grown man in a non-intoxicated state chose to go bowling isn’t embarrassing enough, I have the added glory of having injured myself playing a non-contact sport... Read the full post "Bowling Injury" at: Rodger Dodger. ...If they are hit on by a member of the same sex, it provides them with a valuable story that they can use to prove to their other friends that they are more progressive and tolerant. “This guy/girl hit on me, I said I was ’straight but not narrow,’ and it was totally chill... Read the full post "Having Gay Friends" at: Stuff White People Like. ...I saw placards with our names emblazoned on them being held aloft by teeny boppers, middle aged housewives, Gay couples holding hands, and even a biker and celebrity chef or two. We fumbled the bed sheets about us and stood to signal our conclusion, eyes and mouths open wide in our surprise, as we looked out at the sea of people clapping and whistling... Read the full post "Performance Anxiety" at: Tater. ...The thing about new friends is that it's hard to say no to them. You always want to hang out with them. They haven't become old friends yet. You don't want them to go away. It's always gonna be more fun to do what they're doing... Read the full post "Death Does Not...Repeat Not Become Me" at: Ramblings of a Crazy. ...I recall those days in 2002, when 3 out of 4 cars had American flags fluttering from their windows; when to question the reasoning put forth by Cheney/Bush resulted in one being called a traitor or worse. I recall the night of "Shock and Awe," flipping back and forth from the coverage of the NCAA basketball tournament to the coverage of the air assault of Iraq, and not seeing much of a distinction between how the two stories were presented... Read the full post "Pingree: Plan To End The War In Iraq" at: Turn Maine Blue. ...The use of the courtesy flush during a particularly hellish personal event (my friends and I call this "having an issue") is completely appropriate. Whether it's to cover up the sound of your event, or a quick way to keep the oxygen masks from dropping from the ceiling for the rest of your stall mates, the extra flush is a courtesy to your fellow humans that share this big blue marble... Read the full post "While We're On The Subject Of Bathroom Etiquette" at: Why Oh Why. Labels: Maine Gay, Sunday Morning Coffee |
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Life is a Cabaret
| Sorry I've been neglecting our shared blogspace for a few days now. It's ironic that you blog less when you have the most material most of the time. Intrigued? Don't worry, I'll be sure to post about the frantic goings-on of this week before long; it's too good to pass up. But in the meantime, my very favorite uber-fan of the Pet Shop Boys (who, lest we forget, gave our blog our name) had a birthday this week. Yes, Liza Minnelli turned 62 yesterday, and in honor of her, here's one from the vaults ... In 1986, when I was fifteen, I saw the film Cabaret for the first time. Before the year was over, I had probably watched that one movie at least forty times, and I’ve probably seen it forty times since. As one might expect, I can quote entire scenes from memory. Additionally, I seem to have memorized every note of the score, every dance step, every camera angle, every raised eyebrow. I didn’t know why I loved Cabaret so much. One might blame Brian, the character played by Michael York, the leading man in the film’s seemingly heterosexual love story. He’s gay. The first time I saw the film, the discovery of Brian’s true sexuality hit me like a ton of bricks; I sat in my living room, mouth agape, literally unable to move. Even today, I’m taken aback when I hear Brian speaking his truth for the very first time. So yes, although I’d remain in the closet for another ten years, there was likely some sort of unconscious recognition of myself there. But years later, I now know what truly drew me to insert this particular cassette into the VCR over, and over, and over … and her name was Liza.  Every gay man seems to have a diva of choice, and mine is and forever will be Liza Minnelli. In college, I wore out my copies of “Live at Carnegie Hall” and “Liza with a ‘Z’”; in the early 90s, I saw her live in concert three times. I realize that she is now perceived by many as a parody of her former self, but I don’t care. Fat, thin, out of rehab or on the way back in, single or married to yet another gay husband, I just love her.Logic would dictate that as a homosexual man, I would have chosen a different sort of person to worship. And by different I mean … I don’t know, another man? Mel Gibson had chiseled features, a sculpted physique, and some semblance of sanity in the mid-1980s … why not Mel? Why not any number of handsome (male) matinee idols? I know that I’m not alone among gay men when it comes to the diva thing. Few adore Liza Minnelli to the extent that I do, but whether you’ve chosen Barbra Streisand, Judy Garland, Cher, Joan Crawford, Bette Midler, Lucille Ball, Bette Davis, Madonna, Tallulah Bankhead, or Christina Aguilera (or some combination of the above); many (if not most) gay men of all generations have pledged their devotion to one or more icons who speak to our collective soul. Why do we love them so much? There are likely as many answers as there are divas to choose from, but they do share several things in common. First of all, they love us as much as we love them. A true diva knows that she has struck gold when she wins the hearts, minds, and wallets of gay men everywhere. Compare us to other groups of fans, and we rank up there with Deadheads as the most loyal followers in America. Also, they’re really good at what they do. Whether it’s singing, acting, dancing, looking fabulous, or reinventing their public persona every three years, there’s a standard of quality that cannot be undermined. Taken as a group, the gay guys have always exuded exceptional taste. But I have a theory about our beloved icons. I believe that gay men love these tough-as-nails, glamorous, gutsy broads because they validate our existence every time they teach us that you don’t have to be masculine in order to be strong. I’m fully aware that the stereotype of the mincing, effeminate gay man is just that: a stereotype. There are some gay men that fit that description, and there are also others, who are jocks, bookworms, bikers, preppies, cowboys, etc. But almost all of us have felt the sting of discrimination at some point in our lives; we’ve all been called names. Faggot. Homo. Plus a few others that are unprintable here. But it’s not uncommon for gay men to be called simply: Girl. Pansy. Fairy. You can be as butch as you want to be, but there’s no escaping that for many homophobes, you’re as low as a man can get because you’ve made yourself a woman, and there can’t be anything worse than that. Enter the diva. She’s undeniably female, and stronger than any man in her path. She’s probably been criticized at some point for being somehow less than ladylike. Ball-breaker. Man-eater. If nothing else, she’s a survivor, proving her strength not through attitude, but simply by standing back up every time life knocks her down. We don’t simply enjoy these women; we need them. We need them to be tough, we need them to be fabulous, we need them to be unafraid. And when the world is cold, we need them to belt it to the rafters, “What good is sitting all alone in your room? Come, hear the music play. Life is a cabaret, old chum. Come to the cabaret.” (And psst ... just for The Hat -- here's Liza at her most Minnelli, singing a Tennant & Lowe original ...) Labels: Red Seven, Stage and Screen |
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Sunday Morning Coffee - March 9, 2008
| Welcome to another edition of Sunday Morning Coffee. Here in Maine, we're enjoying a very rainy, windy weekend. Perfect for curling up with a hot cup of coffee and some good stories. I'm using a different setup today that hopefully will give you a better idea of the stories a picked and pique your interest just enough to get you to click the link and read the whole thing. That's the whole point, after all. So let's get right to it, shall we? This morning, Joy asked me over her bowl of oatmeal, "how do people work?" I assumed she was talking about jobs, like our careers... Read the whole post at Single Supermama: How Do People Work? ...If you cannot properly gauge the type of music a white person liked in high school, you should always say that you were really into The Cure. All white people know that liking The Cure in high school is an invitation to be tortured by the cool kids... Read the whole post at Stuff White People Like: Bad Memories of High School. ...I told my therapist at the time that if I dropped dead it would be a while before anyone even noticed. I wasn’t kidding. I had let all my friends drift away. I had no one but myself. A part of me wanted it that way... Read the whole post at The Babblings of Whimsicalnbrainpan: I Walk Alone. ...Remember the last half hour where Henry Hill has to contend with too many balls in the air like guns with silencers that won't fit, all-day spaghetti sauce, a whiny Jewish American Princess who won't run the drugs without her lucky hat and helicopter that keeps following him, putting him on edge? I can relate. I've had some pretty a busy days lately too... Read the whole post at The Past Imperfect: Groundhog's Day Meets Goodfellas. ...My boss, and owner of the company, told me I didn't deserve a raise because I was the accountant and, "didn't generate any revenue." The computer guy, who also didn't generate revenue and had been there less years with less experience and education, did get a raise to a salary greater than mine because, 1) he was a guy; and 2) he had a family to support... Read the whole post at Worms Puppies Barbecue: Valuing the Little Guy. ...I never even saw this show until 3 weeks ago. I don't know a damn thing about women's clothing. I don't even know much about men's clothing. I'm not going to pretend to try and write a critique of the final 3's fashion-week collections. A bunch of models put on a bunch of dresses that I'll probably never see anybody wearing in the real world and they walked down a runway with pouty lips. The end... Read the whole post at All Things Bitter: Project Anti-climactic. ...I'd suddenly arrived, courtesy of my allergies, at the situation every compulsive reader dreads most: I'd run out of books to read... Read the whole post at Broken Whole: (Re) Calling All Lifeboats. ...I’m the six-years-older, divorced charlatan who not only stole their poor boy’s soul, but is currently paving his way to hell with my deviant sexual juices and pagan insolence... Read the whole post at EuroTrippen: My In-Laws Are Like Flesh Eating Bacteria. ...Yes, John McCain is a giant raccoon hole... Read the whole post at johniwanski.com: Predictions Gone Bad & Raccoons Everywhere. ...There were months we ate nothing but potatoes and eggs and toast-- cause that lousy son of a bitch jockey didn't have his head screwed on right. Or because it rained and that horse ain't no mudder. He would be drunk and swearer and we would stay out of his way the whole weekend. He would then call every person he knew to get a few bucks to go back to the track again-- to see if he could win it back... Read the whole post at Life and Times of a Citymouse in a Small Town: I Don't Like Fried Shrimp Anymore. Labels: Maine Gay, Sunday Morning Coffee |
Friday, March 7, 2008
Friday Jukebox: All Bothered and Hot
 There are music people and there are lyrics people. Ideally, of course, a song you enjoy is both melodic and says something, anything, that you appreciate. But I think for most people, there's a slight preference one way or the other. "Music people" hear a pleasing tune or a good beat and don't much care that the words that are being sung either make no sense, are riddled with cliche, or are even borderline offensive. "Lyrics people," like myself, can and will listen to songs that seem tuneless to some, but we don't care, because we're listening to the words, and the melody is just a vehicle for that.All this is to say that I can be easily seduced by a good lyric, and I know this about myself. But, for my first Friday Jukebox here at the new digs, I wanted to play something that works on every level -- melody, lyrics, even the visual elements of the video. Okay, so the lyrics of Christina Aguilera's "Candyman" aren't exactly heavy with profundity. But you have to admit, it's clever as hell. I love the way she takes the lyrical style of WWII-era music and infuses it with a sexuality that would have dared not speak its name back in the 1940's. "He's a one-stop shop/Makes my panties drop" might be the best example of that; but give it a listen or two, you'll hear some more. Musically and visually, the song and video are nothin' but fun, but even serious "lyric people" like me have nothing against a good time every once in a while. I actually thought that it was quite gutsy of Christina to cut an entire album that recalls jazz and the forties and fifties. And even though the album wasn't quite as successful as her "Dirrrrty" period, I think the move was kind of shrewd. Fact is, no one else in Christina's Mickey Mouse Club (Britney, Jessica Simpson, Mandy Moore, that means you) had the musical chops to pull this off, and recording this stuff set Christina apart in a class by herself. She is this generation's Judy, Marilyn, Liza, and Madonna (and even goes for the lesbian vote as Rosie the Riveter about halfway through this clip). Labels: Friday Jukebox, Red Seven |
