Big Chrissy and I are watching the Olympics on the big screen. D is safely locked up for the night–I’ve left messages with his doctors and will talk with them tomorrow about new med strategies and phasing out the shock treatments. BC and I are watching beach volleyball, which had to be dreamed up by some straight dude. Did you catch Misty and Kerri rolling on top of each other after their win tonight? Did the ancient Greeks play beach volleyball naked? Thank the gods for Greco-Roman wrestling–and that hot Polish dude. Isn’t there dude beach volleyball? Why isn’t that aired during prime time? My and BC’s comments are pretty much restricted to basket sizes, butts, and back hair. Did you know that one group in the ancient Olympics used to award crowns of celery to winners of their particular event? When I went to Greece a few years ago, Chris loaned me his cell phone for emergency use–“Chris I’m calling you from the Parthenon!” “Chris, that’s the sound of goats in Arcadia!” He tells me he’s still paying off the bill for all of my emergencies.
This weekend we picked up little Geoffy and swept him to SFMoMA for the William Eggleston show. Man, what color. I’m so through with black and white. For a while, anyway. Geoff’s really such a fun guy, like a big kid. He gave us some candy that he brought home from the Mother country, and I ate a whole bag of the colorful shiny chocolate thingies today. I know, I should be injecting botox into my face before my high school reunion, not 500 grams of saturated fat. I got to see him again on Sunday when Dean Smith called from the Lone Star and told me to get off my butt and get on over to the bar. I had been hiking with D earlier and recovering from massive quantities of dim sum from Ton Kiang. I want to die in Ton Kiang—a steamed barbequed pork bun stuffed in my mouth and a smile on my face. So I rushed on over and joined Dean and his lover Doug, BC, Davide, looking frighteningly stressed out–aren’t they taking care of you in your new home? You need to come back home to 20th Street and chill, dude!–and lots of bloggers glimpsed and waved or winked at. Is it always that crowded on a Sunday afternoon? What fun! Denny, the namesake of Bob’s recent book, was there, and we commiserated on our Bob-lessness, and another Bob, former media curator at SFMoMA and perhaps interested in bears too late to take an interest in what I’m doing, but it was nice to see him in a different context.
Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party is coming out on dvd, and if you haven’t seen it, you should. Alison Steadman’s performance is one of the great comic performances of the last century–just brilliant. She was Mike Leigh’s Dietrich.