Eddie Burrows

jac and i saw Eddie Burrows in the community garden this afternoon. He was sitting looking the same as usual, with a white ace bandage around one leg and dirty toes poking out. He has a few teeth but not many ... there's usually something hanging around his mouth. He's old. little tufts of white hair sprout from his head and chin. He was wearing a large pearl necklace. When we walked in, he was trying to peel and eat a hard boiled egg. This is what Jac calls "abject" using the film school sense of the word.

Eddie and jac reminisced for a while, and i looked at the giant peonies. Eddie had faced himself toward his sculpture, now 25 years old. He told us about the toy horses on it, and how they're impossible to saw through but oddly vulnerable to wind and sun. He said that when he was pulling down his original tower sculpture (must have been the 1980s) he wanted it to fall on him. It did fall on him and it didn't hurt him.

A few quotables from Eddie today:

No woman is ugly. Besides, when you're kissing a woman you're not looking at her face.

Drinking too much is like walking across a bridge. You walk and walk and then at some point, there's just no bridge. You black out.

Someone climbed up my sculpture once and left a beer bottle up there. I knew who it was, another guy from the garden. He and his wife had a plot. I told him not to do that and he just said 'why', and 'there's no gate.' So i came into the garden at night and ripped up his plot. I turned over all his plants, upside down. I liked that, and it taught him a lesson.


* Jac's glad to be back home in new york.

tapes

As I go to sleep after the DTE party, I have a pile of tapes in the corner of my hotel room that comprise of the entire telecast...how will this effect my dreams I wonder...

backstage in the green room

...it was very surreal, I watched the entire show stage right in the green room for the DTE and got to congratulate Ellen on winning and Rosie on THE VIEW, what an interesting scene that was- a mixture of tv power brass and daytime stars. Judge Judy was actually nice. Kate Welsh of Grey's Anatomy was hanging out waiting to present the drama award, we were all hanging out in thsi room with giant couches and a bar with a huge tv screen. The show went really well!

Meanwhile on the other side of the continent....

In LA, a producer: watches down all packages produced for the Daytime Emmy Awards, talks with soap stars, gets calls from LIVE! WITH REGIS & KELLY (while trying on a $560 black jacket that makes her look like Janet Jackson) about confirming that the Talk Show Host award presenters will accept award for R&K in the event they win-as "no shows."

Our heroine, the same producer is then driven by Robin Dorian and listens to the "Robin Dorian" tour of LA, eats vegan sushi for the 5th time this week, ends up buying only a GIANT ROBOT tee shirt for 21 bucks, has fun then feels guilty about ducking out of the dress rehearsal to play with Robin Dorian; later drinks a beer, takes a nap, and even later that evening will hang out backstage to meet ellen.

e-zpass, no e-zpass

the last two mornings i've gotten up at sunrise and gone to count cars. Each time i click the counter on my left hand, that's a guy with ezpass; the right hand is no ezpass. You stand in one place for 5 consecutive 10 minute counts, one for each vehicle classification. The first day, I stood on York between 59th and 60th. I saw a fancy old woman with too much makeup and a hideous phone thing stuck on her ear. Who the hell talked her in to that thing? She stepped into a cab and I thought, “you asshole. I bet you’re an asshole.” Across from me, near the entrance to the Queensboro Bridge, a bunch of guys were doing construction. Right during rush hour, they’ve got huge vehicles tying up a lane at a time, doing 3 point turns and making a racket. If I turned my head the other way, I saw so many solitary old men with cardigans and dogs, I felt like I was in London. My second observation point that morning was 2nd avenue between 57th and 58th. That’s where all the commercial vans drive, and it put me in a really good mood. Also, it was freezing - - surprisingly cold, and I hadn’t brought gloves. My hands were becoming dysfunctionally cold even in my big coat pockets. But I could see across the street, the whole time I’m doing the counts on 2nd avenue, a diner. As soon as I was done, I walked in, saw a little metal table by the door that was shiny because it was getting direct, sharp sun. I sat at the hot table and ate oatmeal and drank green tea. Fucking awesome. The next day I did the counts on the Brooklyn Bridge. I did two shifts at the same observation point, peak and offpeak hours. There was very little change in the traffic between peak and offpeak, but the people walking across the bridge changed from municipal employees to uncomfortable pairs of tourists. Nice day for it though. Also, I got to go have coffee with beth between shifts and hear the story about the poodle and the corn chip.

this one time in celebration, florida

it's raining, i'll tell an old story.

a few years ago i went to Celebration, Florida, the town built by Disney. It's a new urbanist style town, with front porches on the houses, a pedestrian-friendly main street, functional alleys and legalized accessory dwelling units... everything, seen and unseen, that's supposed to make a place less sprawl-y and more hometown-y. I went there with my sister and 3-year old nephew because we wanted to see it. Gabi wanted to eat in the 50's style diner. Little Alex was happy just to go for a drive in Gabi's giant SUV.

It was a bright and clear 75 degree day. We tooled the mama truck through Celebration, looking at the lamposts and white picket fences. Lovely place. Children were playing on scooters, older people were walking and talking in golf outfits. There were environmentally sound smart cars scattered throughout town, making it look slightly futuristic even though the architecture was so old fashioned.

We located the diner, then parked in the municipal lot just outside the sparkling town. As we were unloading Alex from the truck some boys drove by on Huffy bikes. They had fishing poles and tackle boxes fixed to the backs of their bikes. They were wearing helmets and elbow pads and knee pads, as is the fashion these days (when i rode my pink huffy in florida as a kid, i wore a bathing suit and no shoes at all). They started to ride on by us, then stopped, as a gang. One little boy pulled off his helmet, revealing a sparkling blonde head. The gang focused just past us, a few car spaces away.

Alex noticed it first. "Birdies!" he said.

There were vultures, black and evil and totally unmoved by our presence, devouring some piece of flesh on the ground. It might have been a raccoon or a possum, something large-ish and once furry. The two vultures picked and pulled, and another landed nearby and hopped over in that unsettling way they have. The bicycle boys were fully engaged. Without losing their silent focus on the goryness, they pulled off their helmets, their knee pads, their elbow pads, their wrist guards, and they grabbed their fishing poles. They walked right past us, leaving a trail of protective gear behind them. Gabi held Alex to her; he would have loved to have joined the gang. The boys went right over the vultures and started poking at them.

We walked into town away from the scene. Soft jazz was piped through the sidewalk planters, so that even outside the sensation was calming and mall-like. Old men buzzed by in their smart cars. We found the diner easily, on main street down near the fake lake. Gabi ordered pancakes and Alex proceeded to be the worst behaved child possible. He threw food, he rolled around on the floor, he shrieked, he bothered strangers. We were so proud of him. We walked back in the sun rather quickly, back to the big truck, back to the scene, Alex howling all the way, the loudest thing ever to come to Main Street. The vultures and the boys were gone of course and only tiny fragments of carcass remained.

magical sunday afternoon

we spent the weekend volunteering at the first (ever?) queer media conference. the event was sponsored by Stoli, who doesn't seem to realize that sponsoring these events won't make gay people stop ordering "vodka tonics" just like that, no brand name.

Anyway.

During the morning rush as conference goers were picking up their tickets and VIPs were were poking through their loot bags, i saw an older man standing in the narrowest part of the hallway. He was nearly blocking people from moving between the lounge and the registration area. He had a pet carrying case with birds in it. I asked, all smiles (all smiles all weekend) what was up. He had a very thick accent and seemed confused but poised. He told me he wanted to talk to someone named Dax and that he needed a dressing room. I suggested the coat closet, thinking he could put all this stuff in there. He quietly said no, then "dahling i don't perform like dis" hands swooping over his old man face "i perform like dis." whips out a postcard with a picture of my mother wearing a giant gray wig. I understood, and secured a rarely used bathroom upstairs.

I decided that my job for the day was to be this drag queen's 'body man', like Charlie, the black kid on the West Wing.

I put a Keep Out sign on her door.

I offered her a cocktail:

Me: "all we have is Stoli."
Her, half made up in a big pink robe and turban: "Vat's dis shtoli?"
Me: "it's vodka"
Her, suddenly a completely normal gay man: "I'll have a vodka cranberry."

I checked up on her periodically, at one point zipping up her dress (hairy back). She confided in me that she's 65 years old. "No zo bad for an old lady, eh?" she said, now that she was completely covered in rhinestones and pancake makeup. I told her she looked better than my mother, but similar. she liked that.

I made sure her CD was playing during her grand entrance down the stairs and into the lounge. "get a glass of coke" she whispered to me, then started the show.

It was a magic show. I stood there holding a coke, watching her mangle doves and make things disappear. she was wordless, silent, but the crowd was rapt with attention as she glided about with a dove perched on each breast. Finally she motioned for the coke, which she made disappear into a copy of the village voice. When it reappeared - really amazingly - i assumed it had been spiked with rum.

she finished to strong applause. one of the birds shat right on the floor. i took off.

Podcasting Ken Anger

While attending the Q-con, queer media conference, a smashing success by the way, I noticed that less queers are into making porn. Only one older gentleman gave me his dvd calling card with porn that he has on his video blog. "What's happening to the queer porn scene?" I asked my friend Barbara, venturing into producing porn. What if the next queer channel was queer porn?

Cable TV?-NO!
LOGO censors theatrically relased "R" rated films, it has to be video on demand, podcasting, videoblogs,dvd, it's the boom of "new media", more access and smaller screens. Porn can't ever just be there waiting for you in HD digital cable, waiting for you to channel surf to it, accidentally landing on a porn commercial selling -let's imagine-clit enhancers and chocolate covered dildos...
Porn maybe best left for the individual to program-still.

it's time for the little mexican snoring monster to leave

i send her home with an 8 ball in her pocket, a wiggle in her walk, and a brand new case of gonorrhea.




OK! Just kidding. the dog does not have a sexual disease or a drug habit. geez.

Notes while multiplexing and burning for 10 mins.

Yo, Amanda meet me at the beer garden!!
Did you know that Killian's is made by COORS??
I was a foolish undergrad at the University of FLA- GO GATORS!!
and I never read the label, I peeled 'em, but I never read 'em!

Today I worked through lunch and promised myself that I'd have a "nice" dinner, soon I will work through dinner.
6 minutes left on the burn
6 minutes left to burn
I got a call today, it's PASSOVER, from a co-worker telling me that she "really" appreciates me.
Because she is Jewish, I instantly thought she was telling me this due to some sort of religious obligation, but now I am accepting her appreciation.

DVD burned out to executive producers- they still don't like it, fight with producer to make change in the cut, she refuses, I tell her to hold to speak with the exec prods- new cut will be coming soon, then go down the hall to tell editor about the change in the cut, and he's making out with his girlfriend, so I turn aound and come back to my desk...
This business really makes you appreciate time.

small furry houseguest

I am dogsitting an elderly chihuahua. She is possibly the worst, most troublesome creature alive. Never have i been so stressed by an obligation. I should have never agreed to this. It's just one hassle after another. Some examples of the creature's tedious behavior:

She snores like a wildebeast.

She taunts me, lying on her back and gesturing towards the kitchen with her little paws. She knows i'm not allowed to eat her.

She can't jump up on the bed, but she obviously wants to be there. Instead of asking me to pick her up, she just sits quietly. Passive agressive much?

She hogs the remote. And she likes mysteries.

She wakes up in them middle of the night with a "genius idea", turns on all the lights and insists on writing for half an hour. The next morning, she realizes her genius idea is just bunk.

She leaves Christian pamphlets all over the apartment thinking i'll see one and change my ways. She judges me with her giant eyes.

She's hopelessly morose, and can't bear a good mood. If i dare hum or smile she sniffs loudly and leaves the room. She also marked up my copy of Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

She keeps saying she's quitting, but really she just doesn't buy her own cigarettes any more.




Ok, just kidding, the chihuahua is perfect, easiest houseguest possible. I walk her on the roof with a roll of toilet paper, she eats once per day, and she's generally either content or actively happy.

sarah silverman said something really funny on npr

Sarah Silverman was told a story about Tom Delay. Apprently Tom Delay once caught a fly in his hand. He saw the fly, perked up his ears, narrowed his eyes, reached out and grabbed it right in his hand. He threw it on the floor and stomped on it. he said, that's going to be the democrats next.
Sarah said, the democrats are going to fly?

confessions of a vegan foodie

I brought homemade french fries to work today and EVERYONE was jealous!
People started telling me that they want to be vegan if it means eating french fries for breakfast.
I found this interesting. How are people used to eating french fries? Only with burgers, or cooked in animal fat?
My french fries were mostly baked on a baking sheet with olive oil and sea salt (until my girlfriend got tired of cooking and threw the rest of the cut potatoes into a wok with olive oil. I liked the baked better- they taste like a baked potato.

Anyway, what further upset my co-workers was that I was eating the french fries sans mucho ketchup with chopsticks.
This confused everyone completely. I was even called: "exotic" at one point.

With Passover on the horizon, we ventured into Matzo ball soup conversation. It was suggested to me to make a polenta ball soup- matzo is stuck together with eggs.
I'd probably like polenta ball soup, my girlfriend would hate it, but what do I know, I'm just a goy!?!

ah, conferences

it's conference season. there are conferences in every hotel and auditorium. slick foamboard signs are propped up in lobbies across the city - across the country! - telling people to Think Toward the Future. Hastily printed pieces of white paper are taped up all down the halls, telling people in 40 point font to go to room 9A for session C at 2:15. and the little conferences are so cute! 30 people here to talk about green roofs, 50 people there trying to Reach Your Target Audience. The lenders bagels will be barely defrosted by the time 100 more civic minded tote bag holders will schlep up the stairs at yet another smallish college and politely stick cold butter on them. And - just confirmed - in August i'll speaking at in room MB 253 of the Banff Centre in the Canadian Rockies.

Will we all be mightily punished one day for our lack of work?

Will we be expected to make up our debt to society by actually producing something or helping someone?

Who cares. Nutribreak at 3:20, with bagels.

griping due to lack of creativity

academic papers that try to be cute and informal.

notices with empty promises of reductions in my student loans.

spending half the day deciphering acronyms.

urban planners, especially europeans, who write sentences like this, "city regions as systems within systems of city regions."

flowers on tissue boxes.

random photographs of people on websites (check out the blonde and ask yourself why: http://att.sbc.com/gen/public-affairs?pid=2508)

scatterbrained

i just agreed to co-write an article for new york magazine on transportation infrastructure.

this morning, i set up a meeting for my boss to ask for money for the next gazillion years of me "working on housing". (?)

yesterday, i asked jac to help me break in to sound editing.

but i just want to lie in bed and listen to the radio.

word to the nana

those who are not competent to navigate the world should stay home. example: if you don't know how to find a train schedule and you have to ask someone else to "look it up" for you, then you shouldn't get on the train.

never take the futon cover off. Next time, it's bye bye futon.

if everyone suddenly changes their plans and it makes your life easier, just say thank you. don't negotiate anything.

a study came out recently showing that if heart disease patients know they're being prayed for, they don't fare as well. they get sicker. so don't "let go and let god". take control and fix your shit.

and let's give a shout out to people who don't take things personally. they are the true adults. the rest of us are children who still believe the world owes us something, and spins on our behalf.