I woke up sometime this weekend, actually a few minutes after BC called, and said to myself, well, actually repeating RRR’s thoughts that BC had just passed on to me, and said to myself, “Chris, what the BLEEP is wrong with you? You’re going to show in NEW YORK CITY! Who the BLEEP cares if the gallery is a little dinky place, just make a great show!” Whew, crisis diverted. I will be bringing my silly furry grids to… to–I can’t yet bring myself to actually tell you the name of the gallery so that you have all that time to find out the type of art that they show, and who knows, maybe by then they’ll be the hot place, but–to Chelsea in March, 2006, so if you know anyone there, more specifically if you know anyone with money, send them to my show and tell them that how cheap and easy I am…
Okay, so today I go into work, very excited after reading about the new book by Sean Wilsey, Dede’s stepson, because I know that my boss has read the same review and as the former “walker” to Madame S, has tons of dirt to share with me. Well, no sooner than I run up the stairs and blurt out “Did you read THE review this morning?” his cellphone rings and it’s his Most Recent Boy-Toy (MRB-T), whom he moved to Seattle a few months ago, calling from Seattle to say that he’d sero-converted and was going to sue the BLEEPITY BLEEPER who gave him HIV, The Virus That Causes AIDS™, and wanted his advice. Boss gave him the number of Previous Boy-Toy, whom the Boss moved to Pasadena last year after being milked to the tune of 20 grand and the promise of leaving the profession, after he too had sero-converted. It turns out that MRB-T was filming a scene in a porn film at the time of the alleged assault, and unable to appear as excited as he most assuredly was, was offered a fast-acting booster shot by his co-star. It was the needle that pierced his pubis, MRB-T claims, that passed the virus into his bloodstream, and this guy should be stopped before he infects any others this same way! Meanwhile Infector-Boy has started his own porn house, a bare-back porn production facility, and continues to not only shoot people with shared needles, is also bare-backing while not disclosing his HIV+ status. Well, it was all too much for this AIDS widow. I just said “Uh huh, tell me about Harry de Wildt” and mentally chiseled tombstones for them all. If only they were just killing each other…
And speaking of protecting each other, stay far away from the travesty that is Sin City. What a ridiculous piece of immaculately stylized trash. Although Mickey Rourke rocked. I’ve thought about it all weekend, since seeing it–why doesn’t this film work for me and I still ♥ Quentin Tarantino? Tarantino’s distillation and appropriation of film is accompanied by such a deep love and encyclopedic knowledge of the material.. Sin City is a graphic novel moved to the screen and nothing else. It’s like that big red strawberry that genetic engineers have spent generations making bigger and juicier looking, but it still tastes like cardboard. See it on a big screen. I also saw Nicholas Ray’s Bigger Than Life tonight, in Cinemascope at the Castro. James Mason is a school teacher who is saved from near death by the then-new miracle drug Cortisone, but then abuses the drug and gets progressively more and more psychotic while his family refuses to call the doctor until he decides that his son should die because he’s slow at math and Walter Matthau walks in just as he’s about to cut up the whole family with a pair of scissors… It made me so anxious, like a nightmare where you’re trying to run from the guy with the ax and your legs are moving in slow motion. The wife ignores every meager suggestion or indication that something is wrong, and every single offer of help. I almost stood up and screamed “Call the Doctor!!!!”
BC is in arrivo. See ya’ll later!