Tarhearted.

HOME AGAIN.

I'm back from Los Angeles where I spent a long weekend in order to catch a production of my play, The Chalk Boy. I saw some old friends, did some shopping on Rodeo Drive, drank at L.A. hipster dives, and avoided the people in costumes by Mann's Chinese Theater.

The production was really good. It felt like a different play than the production in New York and was somehow more depressing than the show here. It may have to do with the design, which was very spartan and bare. The actresses (Sarah Rosenberg, Amy Golden, Sonora Chase, Claire Bocking) were top notch in the show and really took care of me.

The theater is inside The Alexandria, a spooky old abandoned hotel downtown. I wish I had thought to bring my camera, as it is the coolest place I've ever seen. Full of twisting staircases, bricked up doors, and rotting velvet, The Alexandria only enhanced the creepiness of the show. I want to live there and dress up like a dead British child all the time.

Anyway, some highlights included:

1. The Chalk Boy, duh. Now that it's behind me I can safely say I'm really proud of it. I wrote a fucking good play.

2. Eavesdropping on a table full of flakey L.A. Reiki students, one of whom said this: "It's like, when somebody has a blockage you can just tell them to, like, ask their future self about it because their future self will know what's wrong.

3. Spending lots of time at Intelligentsia in Silver Lake where my old friends Deanna and Kyle are hipster royalty. That coffee is fucking good!

4. Vintage shopping on Rodeo Drive whereupon my L.A. friend, holding feathered earrings, remarked, "I love feathers. Maybe I'll sell my car and just buy some feathers."

5. Not being in New York for a weekend.

6. Returning to New York after a weekend away.

You still have two more weeks to see The Chalk Boy in L.A.! Don't miss out!

LA-LA LAND.

I leave my beloved New York behind to travel to wilds of Los Angeles. I can't wait to see the production of The Chalk Boy there, which is in an abandoned hotel from the early 1900's. Spooky glamor!

I'm also hoping to take a tour of celebrity graves while I'm there. Spooky glamor times two!

Los Angeles, here I come!

As an added bonus, please enjoy Mynx singing my favorite L.A. themed song (except for "Walking in L.A." by Missing Persons). Ladies and gentlefags, I give you "I'm So L.A.":

I SPREAD LOVE ALL OVER THE LAND.

From Craigslist- Los Angeles:

Cutie at The Chalk Boy play downtown on Saturday night - m4m - 29 (Westwood)

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Reply to: pers-851189837@craigslist.org ^[?]
Date: 2008-09-22,  3:26PM PDT

Hello,

You sat next to me at the play on Saturday night and I wanted to talk to you, but it just didn't happen. You were with all the Asian chicks and knew all the actors. I was the guy in the glasses and tie.

Would love to say hi to you.  You were really cute.

*I've always wanted an I Saw You, but I guess is the closest I'll ever come.

AN AMERICAN CAROL.

Oh boy.

I just saw a trailer for An American Carol, a new comedy about a Michael Moore-esque filmmaker who wants to ban Independence Day. He is visited by three ghosts who teach him the true meaning of America via a hilarious (ed: yeah right) journey.

I'm a big enough person to allow my politics to be made fun of. Liberalism is the politics of kindness and generosity, after all. But this is David Zucker, the director who made Airplane!, The Naked Gun, and Scary Movie. This makes him pretty much my least favorite director of all time, politics aside. In fact, I had no idea until watching this trailer that he was a conservative. I simply hate, hate, hate his movies and the entire Leslie Nielson ouevre. Now that I know his politics I like him even less.

It makes sense that the Hee-Haw donkey (Trace Atkins) is in this film, but really... Kelsey Grammer and Dennis Hopper? Seriously? Shame on you.

I also love that they make a joke at the gays' expense in the trailer for the movie. One wonders what gems lie within the actual "film".

I won't be seeing An American Carol. My tar heart has reached its quota of carols:

&

Respectively.

STARBUCKS DOESN'T SELL HOT DOGS.

I have a new lunch spot. I was walking in Greenwich Village and ran across New York Hot Dog and Coffee. I was totally weirded out by the concept, but being that I enjoy both hot dogs and coffee, I ventured in. It turns out I was lucky enough to be one of its first customers and I wandered into the clean and aesthetically pleasing store to be greeted by fifty-six enthusiastic "hellos" from the adorable teenage Koreans working there. Things were off to a good start.

I quickly learned from the very sweet franchise owner, who was wandering around in a smart skirt suit, that this is the first American location of a Korean chain. She was also kind enough to point out that they have a beautiful backyard. They say that gays are early adopters of the new, and in my case it was true!

I was initially weirded out by the menu options too. Bulgogi hotdogs? With a value meal you get a bulgogi hot dog, a scoop of soft serve (?), and a cup of coffee? Am I missing something in the translation? Who thought to put bulgogi on a hot dog? Why ice cream or coffee? Is that a typical Korean combination? Whatever. Bizarre as it may seem, it's really delicious and affordable. (Seriously though... waffles?)

It is at 245 Bleeker Street, for anyone who wants a delicious and hilarious eating experience.

On the coffee tip, I have to seriously cut back. I'm getting a terrible cold and the coffee isn't helping. My sleeping habits are totally messed up now. Between the cold and the caffeine I've been falling asleep right when I get home from work and then I can't sleep until two in the morning. I spend those precious hours tossing and turning with sickness dreams. (By the way, last night I dreamed that I was in Cape Cod with Cher, Winona Ryder and Christina Ricci. A Beaches reunion!)

So here I am drinking tea, which is just not the same.

SQUARE PEGS WEEKEND.

The New York production of The Chalk Boy closed on Saturday and I'm suffering from postpartum depression. The Fictional town of Clear Creek, Washington feels very real to me after two years of working on this play in various incarnations. So too do its denizens: Penny Lauder, Lauren Radley, Breanna Stark and Trisha Sorensen, the coolest fifteen-year-old girls ever.

I'll miss them terribly.

I'm going to Los Angeles this weekend to see the production by Company of Angels. It will interesting to see someone else's take on the play and its characters. I've been in touch with several of the actors who all seem lovely. I can't wait!

After the play I spent all my time with my new boyfriend, Johnn Slash of the 1982 television show Square Pegs.

Holy Cow, I love this show and I especially love Johnny Slash, the soft spoken New Waver. Johnny was played by the gorgeous Merritt Butrick, who passed away from AIDS in 1989. What a waste.

I'm positive that we would have ended up getting married if he were still alive, even if he is twenty years older than me.

R.I.P. Johnny Slash!

WEDDING OF THE FUTURE.

In light of yesterday's post, I think I may actually want to get married to "Automatic Lover" by Dee D. Jackson and go for a whole sixties sci-fi meets Euro disco theme.

Just imagine lots of smoke machines and lazers reflected off hard white plastic. I want it to be super modern, but modern as seen from 1966. I guess you would call that "mod".

Yes! Mod Sci-Fi! I will take inspiration from Barbarella and Fantastic Planet, respectively.

I'm only kidding, of course. I mean, that would be hot, but I want something classier. Overly themed weddings will be among the first things that go when the gays can get married.

I have my entire gay wedding planned out to a tee, much to The Boyfriend's chagrin, and I plan on being a total groomzilla. Stay out of my way or I'll bit your cheek!

I want to get married where the cherry blossoms grow in The Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and the wedding will have a gray and lavender theme, to match.

We'll both wear gray suits like this one by Versace, but with lavender ties. Lavender looks amazing on me. Not so much on The boyfriend, but he'll live.

I'll hire a small string quartet who will play "Pitter Patter Goes My Heart" by Broken Social Scene as we walk, not down an aisle, but on either side of our audience. They won't be separated like in a traditional wedding, and we'll walk up either side of them in unison and meet in the middle. I always imagine that "Tenderness" by General Public will blast on during our kiss, a la Clueless, and that all of our guests will stand and applaud as we're whisked off. But maybe not?

It's so romantic! You're all invited (unless you plan on wearing leggings or gladiator sandals)! I can't wait until the gays are allowed to get married.

Oh, it's coming. Just you wait!

THE FUTURE.

Did I ever tell you that The Boyfriend was once a raver? It's true. He grew up in Orlando where, second only to New York and London, rave culture peaked and peaked until it died in a pool of its own ecstasy vomit. I grew up on the other side of the country near Seattle so i was listening to riot grrl and dabbling in Wicca. Needless to say, our teen lives were different.

I hated house music. I found it repetitive and annoying. Also, the idea of having high people in ugly clothes come up to me with their clammy paws in some warehouse seemed repugnant to me. The best thing I can say about The Boyfriend's raver days is that he's put away the extra baggy pants in favor of skinny jeans and he has a high tolerance to pills. In short, that they are over. Or, that was the best thing I could say. Now I have Dee D Jackson.

Apparently, her #4 euro disco hit, "Automatic Lover", was sampled in some nineties house song. This was the round about way The Boyfriend and another former rave queen introduced me to Dee D Jackson. Look at her:

Beautiful.

I wish there were more songs about robots that fall in love with intergalactic girls in the future. Check out the video:

I want to get gay married to this song.

Like, so hard.

TEEN BEAT.

Did you know that Robert Altman made an 80's teen movie? Neither did I until a few months ago and I just had the, um, pleasure of taking it in last night, compliments of Netflix.

O.C. and Stiggs follows two wacky Ferris Bueller-ish teenage boys in Scottsdale, Arizona as they attempt to destroy a suburban family, the Schwabs, whose patriarch is an evil and racist insurance mogul. Mr. Schwab canceled O.C.'s grandpa's insurance, making it so grandpa has no place to go except a state-run nursing home while O.C., having no parents, will have to go live with a distant relative in Arkansas.

O.C. (Daniel Jenkins) and Stiggs (Neill Barry) both deliver solid performances, so I found it rather surprising that neither of them really took off. We're also treated to cameos by Martin Mull, Dennis Hopper (who will seemingly be in anything), and a hilarious turn by Jane Curtain as the drunk Mrs. Schwab. Also look out for a young Cynthia Nixon, who was adorable, just as she was in one of my favorites, Little Darlings!

The movie started well, but kind of lost its steam half way through. It also contained some ill-advised homophobia, even though the film has homoerotic tension you could cut with a knife. (Naked Swimming! Boys kissing on surfboards!)

Anyway, O.C. and Stiggs, created by National Lampoon's, was the 80's answer to Beavis and Butthead. I wonder why Robert Altman of all people was tapped to make the film version. I can only wish that more arthouse directors made teen movies. Here's some other mash-ups I think would work well:

-David Lynch's Teen Wolf

-Kenneth Anger's Pretty in Pink

-Werner Herzog's Say Anything

-Lars von Trier's Little Darlings

Psst! Speaking of awesome teen movies, guess what's finally out on DVD for the first time ever?

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains!

You should rent it or buy it immediately.

YOU WANNA BE ON TOP?

When I was fifteen I was scouted by Barbizon Modeling. They came to give a speech in my Home Economics class, though I'm not sure why, and the middle-aged rep who clearly smoked too much liked my "look". That was the nineties so, you know, the whole androgynous heroin-chic thing was in. Over the coming year I received countless phone calls and postcards.

Watching this commercial makes me wish I'd reconsidered:

Modeling is "fun". It's "exciting"! Also, it's great for your self-esteem... and everybody knows I could use some help in that department.

I thought of this experience while watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model. I wanted to see Isis, whom I sort of know, but I just couldn't do it. My tolerance for bad media is high. Majorly high, as you can see in other posts. But watching Tyra banks emerge from a giant machine as a result of a "glamor overload" and then doing the robot for three minutes while all the little chickies at the whore factory cheer her on?

That crosses the line.

Good luck to Isis. I hope she fares better with that gaggle of orange skinned retards than I did.