Monday, November 25, 2013

As of yesterday

I am 38.

Sometimes I read other people's blogs and I wish I could blog like that. Simple, diaristic, nice pictures, basic storytelling. Then I think I could never keep that up. And anyway I always forget to take pictures.

I made Suzanne Goin's short rib recipe for myself and JW and some friends last night. It turned out really well. I forgot to take pictures of it.

Friday, November 08, 2013


Saw him acoustic at the Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever on Tuesday. Been on a Youtube binge since then. This one is choice; the band freak-out towards the end is wild.

Thursday, November 07, 2013

That last post

was a lot of navel-gazing crap, wasn't it? Here's something much fresher and more casual from the mini writing journal I've started carrying in my back pocket--
Watching Return of the Jedi at work (nice, right?). Yoda just said, "a rest I need," but at first I thought he said "arrest thy need." Which I like much better and want to use in a period drama one of these days.
And here's a picture of my new mini writing journal.

You may be pleased to know

that I deleted my Tumblr account. It was a nice experiment for a while, but I don't think the site is for me. Or maybe it's too much for me. I found myself logging onto my dashboard (for those who don't use Tumblr, your dashboard is an endless feed of all the other Tumblr pages you follow) and scrolling in a trance through picture after picture, at times looking for things to post here, at times just looking and looking and looking and looking and....

I followed tons of pages, a lot of which were devoted to images of the male physique; sometimes my eyes would get tired with all the compulsive scanning of these things. Luckily they were broken up with some pics I enjoyed sharing here. That one-two punch of Grace Kelly and Eartha Kitt I still particularly like, and it was nice to be reminded of that Fairfield Porter painting of Larry Rivers with bandaged wrists after his suicide attempt (see my previous post). 

In the midst of all that scrolling, I was able to get a more thorough understanding of how exhibitionistic people are becoming with social media. It makes me think of Bret Easton Ellis' silly but prescient Empire/Post-Empire dialectic he's been so intent on shoving down our throats. It really is a different world out there. There are levels of autobiography in some people's Tumblr feeds that are so casual and immediate they make Larry Rivers allowing Fairfield Porter to paint him with his bandaged wrists look almost quaint. 

I'm envious of those who are comfortable enough with themselves to share so easily. I recently saw one average-looking, handsome guy post a G-rated picture of himself reading in the bathtub. I read in the bathtub all the time and thought the picture was so charming; as much as I was attracted to it, I also imagined what it would be like to take and share a similar picture of myself.

I guess that exposes me a little, doesn't it? The interest in sharing myself in a private moment, letting it be enjoyed, then shared exponentially by strangers who've taken an interest, letting it spread out until the image becomes almost meaningless, completely unattached to whatever sense of disclosure or risk that I ever felt when I shared it. Just one guy in a world full of average looking guys who like to read in the tub sometimes.

The pages that most impressed me were the ones that distilled their users' lives into series of images that reflect their own personalities. There's this one young gay bearcubby couple with separate pages that I followed on Tumblr; I both adored them and wanted to strangle them a bit; they're so in love (and so insistent on expressing it) that it became nauseating. 

But it was also fascinating. Their Tumblr personas formed a dialogue -- or better yet, alternating monologues occasionally crossing into dialogue -- weaving bits of their own personalities, emotions, and stories into the stream of random sentimental or smutty posts from all the hundreds of other feeds I followed. Without even bothering with much text, they distinguished and defined themselves. Their posts certainly weren't meaningless.

This blog has always felt like about the ballsiest thing I could do on the internet (at least for public consumption). And hey, I do put myself out there on these pages. I expose myself to criticism from others (just this summer I was accused of being "academic-buzzword-heavy," or something). Even heavier is the criticism I level against myself. I mean, have you looked at some of the posts on this blog? What the hell have I been thinking all these years?

Who am I kidding? All this pondering is just me getting around to copping to the fact that Tumblr was making me lazy. I didn't exactly set out to replace my writing with a bunch of cool pictures other people took, but it did make it a little easier to avoid coming up with new posts. As you may have noticed, I've gotten into the habit of writing rather lengthy explorations on here. It takes a lot to write this stuff. And it's been a challenge for me to write much at all lately. 

The good news is it's been getting better. More recently I've been doing a lot of journaling. Some of it has been an attempt to jump-start writing on my unfinished new play, Hope House (or so it's called at the moment), but some of it has just been to work out my shit. To keep writing. This post feels a little like an extension of that.

Maybe I'm rambling. Maybe rambling on this page is my version of posting countless pictures of myself doing quotidian things on Tumblr. 

Regardless, since I'm feeling a little bold, I thought I'd share that I bought a new hat today.