Read about our origins here.
I was sitting at La Scala in Beverly Hills with my friend Karen and indulging in my chopped salad obsession. Once again, we were consumed with a question that dominates the conversation of many women.Read the rest here.
Why am I still single?
Tom Nassif, President and CEO of the Western Growers Association, is one of six national chairs for Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney’s Farmers and Ranchers for Romney coalition. The Western Growers Association vigorously opposed Butler’s AB 2346, the Farm Worker Safety Act of 2012 to protect farm workers from fatal heat illness, which they called the “sue your employer” bill. The bill would have ensured that water and shade are provided to California’s more than 400,000 farm workers who labor on more than 35,000 California farms and would have more severely punish non-compliance by making the growers liable for heat-related illness. Further, it establishes a private right of action so that farm workers can hold their employers accountable under the law.
But for Butler and the United Farm Workers, this is literally about life and death: 17 farm workers were confirmed to have died between 2004-2011 from heat-related illnesses. And, as I reported last Tuesday, Oct. 9, AP reported on Oct. 3, that an unidentified 51 year old farm supervisor on a Salinas Valley farm died Monday, Oct. 1 of a heart attack while working outside in the “95-plus-degree weather on a Dole Fresh farm near Soledad when he collapsed.” Butler had that death on her mind as she headed up to Nuestra Senora Reina de la Paz in Keene where President Obama designated the home of Cesar Chavez – the place where he led the United Farm Workers movement from the 1970s until the early 1990s – as the Cesar E. Chavez National Monument. Butler said that this man’s death makes five heat-related deaths this year.
This is cheap and dirty stuff. I get so hung up on the national election that I sometimes miss the crazy in local and state politics. What about that Sherman / Berman debate? Did you hear about that?
In my mind we would take a seat on a bench under a tree, carry on our conversation and enjoy a beautiful spring evening while waiting for our respective companions to wrap up inside.Read the rest here.
"Should we get a cab?" Josh asked, just steps outside the door.
I shouldn't have been surprised — at 28, I've done plenty of dating and bar hopping in my native Los Angeles and elsewhere. But I was.
How was it possible for two individuals of the same generation, raised in the same geographic location, with similar levels of education and parallel family backgrounds to so dramatically misinterpret one another's flirtations?
Crossing boundaries is never easy, but I inched us farther west on every date. From cupcake tasting in Hollywood to tango lessons in Westwood, we opened our kimonos just enough to show our scars. Then we broached the topic of marriage and I dropped my kimono to the ground.Read the rest here.
I picked her up on a Saturday and took the 101 Freeway to Malibu Canyon. I could have driven that sunward route with a blindfold, but when I saw PCH peek over the horizon, I felt like Ulysses coming home to Ithaca. April squeezed my hand as if she knew all about my personal Odyssey.
He was a misogynist. That man was physically so unattractive. I think to have a mind that thought of himself as an attractive, romantic man and then to wake up in the morning and look at that face and that body was tough.But the best part of the interview comes in at the end, when Andrew Goldman asks her about making Roar, a film she and her daughter Melanie Griffith made; it had her buying a bunch of big cats who were less gentle than expected.
Read the whole thing here.There’s a photo of you and a teenage Melanie, whose head is six inches away from Neil, your first live-in lion.
He was not a live-in lion. Sometimes I get so annoyed with you writers.The caption from your book reads, “Melanie and I with Neil, our first live-in lion.”
O.K., I missed that one. O.K.
Friends balked when I told them the Older Man had 14 years on me. They asked what we could possibly have in common. I waved away their doubts. Why should the year we were born matter? It's just an arbitrary number, I retorted. Plenty of couples with wider age gaps enjoy successful relationships. But privately I wondered if they were right. It didn't seem far-fetched that a man nearing 40 might be on a different wavelength.
I watched for signs I was too youthful for him — more energy past 11 p.m., more stamina on steep hikes above the Griffith Observatory. Yet to my delight, I turned out to be the one struggling to keep up.
It wasn't his calendar age that was the problem. Our partnership didn't work because he was an emotional teenager.And I love this one from German in the States Andreas von Bubnoff about differences in American and German social norms.
I'm not entirely sure I understand the American rules about socializing with other men. In Germany it doesn't mean anything if two men go to dinner or the movies together. It doesn't mean anything if they are socializing without the crutch of business or sports. In the U.S., that's apparently called a "man date" and is considered inappropriate by some, especially if the dinner takes place in a romantic setting with candles or wine and without a television. Lord help you if you order a mojito instead of a scotch — although White Russians seem to be OK, thanks to the Dude in "The Big Lebowski."
In New York, being gay was not enough. Here, there was a hierarchy that had to do with intelligence or with a certain kind of cultivation. And partially this was caused by the invisibility of homosexuality in the culture. There was just no awareness of it. It just didn't exist, but it also operated kind of like a secret society. And so part of the older men taking younger men to the ballet, part of that was—If you want to call it—mentorship and part of it was just seduction.... There was a lot of hierarchy. Drag queens, for instance, who now are embraced in every living room in America, were generally considered very low on the social scale. There was a lot of contempt for drag queens, not all, but there was a certain amount of contempt, and it was considered to be a kind of a trashy thing to be a drag queen. Or to be a hairdresser—or other professions that were kind of conventionally gay professions at the time, like if you were a choreographer. Gay hairdressers were called "hair benders" and "hair burners," and they were really looked down on because it was a "stupid" profession. By which it was meant a profession where you didn't have to be smart, a lower-level profession. I also cannot stress enough to you how minute this world was. When I talk about it, it makes it sound like some sort of global thing, but it was very tiny. It was tiny here; and in every big city, there were similar scenes.Read the whole thing here.
Why do we do this to ourselves? I can't help but think it has something to do with the trauma of coming out. Most gay men, despite how well-adjusted we are now, have suffered from immense feelings of isolation and abandonment at some point in our lives. Whether we are flamboyant or "straight-acting," most of us have grown up feeling like outsiders, feeling like we don't fit in. So when we come out, we vow to never be outsiders again; we vow to look perfect and be strong, because we're going to show the world that we're not outcasts. We think that through sweat, reps, and endless hours at the gym, we can somehow make up for a world that has hurt us.Am I the only one who immediately goes to Google Images after I read one of these just to see how skinny the guy who wrote it is? Is it a symptom of my chubby gayass self-loathing? Maybe, but then I also find it amusing that I rarely see people with average or overweight figures writing these pieces. Have we given up? Or are we just better at either resigning ourselves to or finding humor in the superficial expectations and stereotypes of contemporary gay life?
Gay men of the world, I think it's time that we stop trying to make the world love us through our bodies and start loving ourselves for the beautiful people we are.
“When you teach, you must be handed many bad plays. Perhaps almost exclusively. Are you sure that they’re bad?”
He makes an abstract sound that means yes and brooks no contradiction.
Incidentally I just noticed his UCLA Live t-shirt in the photo of him. Someone from the Center for Art and Performance should send him a new one.“For five years after Jonathan died,” he says, “I didn’t want to do much of anything. I certainly didn’t think I’d be capable of ever caring much for anybody else or feeling amazing responses to things. But two and a half years ago now, I suddenly, one day, realized that I had fallen hopelessly in love. And really seriously, not just infatuation. Somebody not only beautiful and sexy but enormously talented, genuine, generous. I didn’t think I was going to do that anymore. It was joyous. ‘My God,’ I thought, ‘you’re capable of this still?’
“And at the same time, I realized a couple of problems. I mean, I am 84 now. He’s 24.” He corrects himself. “In a couple of weeks, he will be 24. I knew it was absolutely foolish. He’s too young. He’s too this, he’s too that, he’s all sorts of stuff” — including, apparently, “not that way.” “It wasn’t going to work in that sense. It wasn’t going to be a great, wonderful sexual relationship. But, wow, wasn’t that interesting when I thought it was! Isn’t kidding yourself fun?”