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The End of the Festival, and What Else?

Today was the last of the Film Noir festival at the Castro. Actually there are two films playing tomorrow, but I’ve seen them already, and too recently. I saw many films this week that I haven’t even read about, and usually this means one of two things–they’re either not worth knowing about to begin with, or they’ve been sitting in some vault for 60 years. I was the geek standing at the front of the line an hour before each movie started, to assure my 7-11th row center seat, in the hope of discovering some forgotten gem, but, unfortunately, most of the films fell into the category of not worth remembering, but I, as a completist and student of film, had to see The Woman on Pier 13 aka I Married a Communist, just to witness the comic depiction of waterfront communists in the mid-40’s. (As really mean Chicago-style gangsters.) I didn’t revisit the films that I’ve seen a gazillion times (Out of the Past, Dark Passage, Lady from Shaghai, etc…), but focused on the rarer treats. Today’s movie featured a very young and very tasty Tony Curtis in leather police drag (!) and Gilbert Roland’s big face and hairy forearms–widescreen and luscious. The programmer of the festival really pushed the boundaries of film noir, and included many features that were more like film gris, including femmes fatale who actually loved the men they destroyed, really meant well, and didn’t even die in the end.

So what will happen in the next exciting episode of Big Chris/Little Chris? Last night I was told that “It was over,” but tomorrow we’re supposed to entertain a gaggle of international bear celebutantes. A yo-yo, on Big Chris’ string, that’s me, and who knows how long I’ll spin and flip for my beloved big dude.

Stay tuned, gentle reader.

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They’re Heeeeeeeere!

The Daves have arrived. Last night after dinner out with Peter and Luis, I popped over and caught them all lounging around Big Chris’ in their scivies, watching The Graduate. I couldn’t rouse them for a more formal shot, so here they are, sprawled in front of Chris’ 10-foot screen. It’s not the most flattering shot of three of my favorite fellows. Chris is quite fond of his leather pillow. A close inspection reveals a partial peek at Big Dave’s special place, for those interested in such areas. The Daves also brought with them from Sydney a special product, which I am itching to try.

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Instant Intimacy

I’ve been exchanging e-mails with a guy that I recently met after viewing his racy pix on Bear-licious. It turns out that he’s from Gadsden, Alabama, the town that knew me when. My family moved from Gadsden to Birmingham when I was in 7th grade, so luckily I was spared the trauma of coming out there, or what I thought would have been a traumatic coming out. Coming out in Birmingham wasn’t a very big deal–everyone in my high school was gay, even the principal. I was very curious about Mr. Bear-Licious’ experience growing up gay in Gadsden, and it turns out that it wasn’t a big deal either–he had a great childhood with lots of support in his family (his brother and uncles were gay, too), and two gay bars in downtown Gadsden.

I’ve developed a real fondness for him, perhaps because he represents an alternate version of my own life, or because I’ve been exposed to his intimate thoughts and special places. The internet is amazing. He’s just a few words and pictures on my laptop, yet he occupies some place in my psychic life already. Safe intimacy?

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An Afternoon With Ann Sheridan and Armistead

The Ann Sheridan movie was astounding. It hasn’t been screened theatrically for about 40 years, and the Castro presented a beautiful print from the Universal archive. The film, Woman on the Run, opens as a man walking his dog witnesses a murder, and then goes into hiding when he discovers that the killer is a big mobster who will most likely bump him off before he can testify against him. The police race to find him before the killer does, and his wife, whom we find out has been fairly indifferent to him up to now, also tries to find him and in the process discovers her love for him. She is aided in her search by a supposed newspaper man looking for an exclusive, but he’s actually the killer himself! The searchers converge on Playland at the Beach in the final minutes of the film, where Ann Sheridan finally figures out that the newspaper guy is the killer, but as she’s riding the roller coaster and he’s down below meeting her husband for the promised exclusive and a shot in the head! The perspective in this scene is all from the roller coaster as we catch dizzing and quickly caught brief glimpses of her husband below. Great San Francisco location shooting, snappy witty dialogue, Ann Sheridan’s beautiful face, and excellent tension and photography in those last few minutes.

On the way home from the movie Armistead Maupin walked by and said “Hey.” !! To me! He’s so cuddly looking. I said, “Hi.” Should I have said more? Did he think I was someone else? Does he remember meeting me a few years ago when he sat behind me at the Castro? Didn’t he come to the party that I and Bob threw for Ed White? Was he cruising me? Did I blow my chance to create a thrilling new chapter for his tales of the city? Or my cameo walk on in the next series?

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Conflict

The big anti-war demonstration today coincides with the screening of a rare noir film this afternoon at the Castro, Woman on the Run, with Ann Sheridan.

There’s no question about where I’ll be.

My political beliefs and practice often conflict inconveniently with Ann Sheridan.

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Internet, Dinner at 5 for 6

The top keywords used this week in search engines to gain access to my website…

“butt of a famous male sculpture” (a?)
“photographs of female erogenous zones” (This person must have been very disappointed)
“hirsute female form” (is there a She-bear community?)
“photos of the human buttocks” (No sales, alas)
“symplegades” (! Yay! )
“furry male gallery bear” (my kind of dude!)

This week my site was visited by 12 surfers from the United Arab Emirates and 15 from Saudi Arabia, and 1 using the old Arpanet. An overwhelming majority of visitors enjoyed my website and art work for 0 to 10 seconds.

Other internet news…. I’ve completely, well, somewhat, updated the Marjorie Wood Gallery pages. I’ve discovered the animated gif, and am now freed from the constraints of static content!

The Daves of Sydney arrive in San Francisco this week. Big Chrissy and I are having the Chris Pratts up to celebrate the Daves’ temporary return to the fold, to grieve Chris and Dan’s impending departure to the Great Pacific Northwest, and to enjoy a dinner for 6 people and 3 names–Chris, Dan, and Dave. What to make! I’m thinking of braised duck legs with onions and cabbage, fennel and mushroom salad (with white truffles), and poached pears with burnt caramel and ice cream for dessert. Or hotodogs for Superbowl Sunday?

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Michelle, Our Belle

Last night I attended a performance by Michelle Rollman, David Johnston, and Philip Horvitz, at New Langton Arts. The piece was presented in conjunction with Michelle’s stunning exhibition, Dark Horse. Michelle is a very dear old buddy of mine who, along with everyone else except me, moved to New York about five years ago. About a year after she moved there, she came back to SF for a visit and came to my house for dinner, and casually showed me pictures of her new life in New York–a dude in a dress (“That’s Dana, my boyfriend”), and herself with a saddle on her back, hooves, and a bit in her mouth. It was all too much, “What has New York done to my little Michelley belly?!?!” I finally blurted out, tears welling in my eyes. Evidentally, she’s into “pony play.” Her performance last night was an autobiographical song and dance extravaganza called Velvet, which delved into the nature of her relation to the horse, the death of her own horse when a child, and Elizabeth Taylor’s National Velvet. The piece culminated in Philip mounting Michelle in her full horsey regalia and riding her across the stage. The sounds of her clomping and whinnying sent shivers through the entire audience.

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iSpQ

I’ve discovered iSpQ. Perhaps you all know about this already, and haven’t told me, but if you don’t, iSpQ is a program that allows one to communicate with others over the internet via quickmessaging conversations or live video. Most people are scantily clad, or will drop whatever items of clothing are visible with the slightest suggestion. The other night while chatting with a guy from Canada about the nature of public art and the challenge of engaging the public, I was flashed by a very talented furry Italian with abstract closeups of all of his special places, discussed my artwork with Mr. South Bay Bear 2002, received numerous QMs from guys that said simply “hey,” and was berated by a guy from Lodi about the cyan tint of my image, which contrasted with the beautifully lighted crisp images of seemingly everyone else. Yet another guy asked if I were the artist Chris Komater (my user name is “chriskomater” so it wasn’t that much of a stretch), and then tore his shirt off and asked to pose for me. He seemed shocked when I asked him to put his shirt back on. I do try to keep business separate. Really. Okay, I don’t, but I want to.