Last night I had dinner at John’s house, a beautiful turn-of-the-century mansion on Gough Street, and a beautiful silver-haired man. John and I had a brief affair many years ago. His sister is the Catwoman. Every full moon, John hosts a dinner party for 10 men culled from various intellectual, artistic, and political circles for conversation, drink, and good food. I represented the artistic circle. He calls us the Lunar Society, after a similar group in the late 1700’s England which also convened on the night of the full moon, when the roads were lit for night-time travelers. So anyway, this was the 225th dinner. I’ve been going since, I think, 1989? The evening is highly structured, with cocktails at 7:30, dinner at 8. The theme of the evening was politics. Great. My suggestion that we forget about bombing Iraq and invade Israel and turn it into a secular state instead did not go over very well. Kevin McC was there. He’s currently adjudicating over the Barry Bonds 76th homerun baseball battle. Unfortunately, he couldn’t share. Jim H was also there, a lawyer closely associated with the Civic Center rehabilitation, and didn’t he run for something a few years ago? His mom died recently and so he was very excited about coming into a few bucks to do some remodeling around the house. Everyone else seemed very connected politically, even the cute little dudes, one of whom (didn’t have the chance to talk to him, though) seemed to be running for something. John typically starts off the dinner with a toast to the moon, and last night he focused on the feminine aspects of the moon, what a loyal companion she is to the earth, having never strayed from her orbit, and the romantic and secretive activities that happen under the light of the moon. The conversation that followed included discussion about the various ballot initiatives, Iraq, and a lot of trashy queen talk about local politics.
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Two Saints, Godard, Work and a New Haircut
Überbearpornstar Jack Radcliffe gave me a big sweaty hug at the Castro Street Street fair on Sunday last. The crowd parted and the sun revealed his dazzling smile and outstretched arms. He’ll always be a Bellini saint to me. I spent the following Thursday evening with a less-hairy and more-than-likely less-hung saint, Messaien’s Saint Francois d’Assise at the SF Opera, which aside from being melodically challenging and brilliantly staged, Neue Sachlichkeit meets the Franciscans, and five hours long, introduced me to the ondes martenot, an electronic instrument dating from 1928 similar to the theremin, but with fixed notes and a keyboard, which Stravinsky described as “the musical equivalent of a colonoscopy.” I’m not sure that I would agree with Stravinsky, unless he thought colonoscopies were stimulating fabulous experiences. Seeing the opera in San Francisco is so much more comfortable than what I imagine the experience to be like in other big cities. First of all, you could wear a t-shirt, or khakis after Labor Day, or a pink tuxedo and nobody notices, not even the society people, who all wore black, as they don’t deviate from what’s expected of them seasonally, and would anything they say about me get back to me anyway? Their little world is very closed and their behavior very apelike–all posturing and preening and feral. I was very hot, as in sweating like a pig, in my Dolce & Gabbana chartreuse velvet suit. (80% off at Wilkes Bashford.) I am definitely dressing like the little dude in line at the bar downstairs next time and going for the t-shirt and gap khakis look. I’m sure that all of us non-society people who saw him thought the same thing–forget this velvet designer crap, I’m wearing my underwear next time! The opera was pretty stunning, with a rotating stage consisting mainly of an S-shaped ramp with a detachable snow-covering which hovered a few feet over it in the winter scene. On either side of the stage was a 3-level open tower, out of the second floor of one a blue angel with one wing appeared cantilevered over the stage below.
Last night I saw Godard’s new film, In Praise of Love, which I can’t honestly say I liked or not. I and the audience (all 5 of us) slept through half of it. I think I’d like to see it again, for what I did see seemed intriguing–a film about a director making a film about the four stages of love, and the obstacles that frustrate creativity. The first half was black and white, and looked exactly like a new wave film from the early 60’s, but not self-consciously. The second half was filmed in digital video, but that’s where I got lost in slumberland, so not much else to say about it. There did seem to be no joy, and a lot of anti-American sentiment which, while a necessary plot device, left me feeling slightly battered.
His Contempt is still one of my favorite films.
Today at work I set up an e-mail account for my boss’ friend, who is traveling to Bali next week for a month. She runs a travel service offering scuba tours of Indonesia. She’s currently her only client. She and the boss have property in Panama and are planning on building a house together. Their joint ventures remind me of Bob’s parents’ 2 big investments; Israeli oil and California City. After his parents’ Israeli oil stock became worthless, it was discovered that their property in California City couldn’t be developed because of the desert tortoise.
Yesterday I got my hair cut by the same barber who sexually harassed me a few haircuts ago. (Little Dave calls him “Big Red.”) He’s purchased the shop down the street from me and is going to make it into the haircutting equivalent of the Starbucks on 18th Street. A bear barbershop. His demeanor was disappointingly subdued, but he did shave my neck with a straight razor. Hot!
Update Website, A Sale
Okay, cats and kittens, I’ve uploaded my new Thundercrack! series to my website.
I just made a big sale–including one of my larger pieces, and over the internet! I’m hoping the collector read correctly that one of them is 10 feet tall–and have been busy getting those pieces printed and framed, as well as getting everything printed and framed for the Portland and NYC shows. I don’t like being this busy. But I’ve only one more piece to make for the Thundercrack! series, and then I’m taking the rest of the year off to watch the leaves fall off my plum tree.
A Lively Discussion
On “Guystats” a few days ago…
CITYBOY
City: Canada
Age: 24
Height: 6’1″
Weight: 180
Hair: brown
Eyes: blue
Dick Size: 11″
Ethnicity: English
FAKE
Um, yeah, too bad this is fake. Loser.
-fake
10/03/02 01:03 PM
???
Why is it that when guys see a nice big dick that they almost always think it is fake? They are the true losers…they’re just upset that they have tiny 4″ dicks.
-jay
10/03/02 01:39 PM
JAY
Jay – I hate to burst your bubble but this is fake – if you can’t tell that, then I’m glad I burst your bubble as someone needed to –
-JayMan
10/03/02 02:17 PM
NOT A FAKE BUT NOT THE USER EITHER
Hey guys….. Actually this pic isn’t a fake…matter o’ fact I have it in a magazine and the dick is real….unfortunately the guy that posted this ad is not the same person in the pic….he’s a porn model which like I said I have in one of my magazines….I think is stupid when people post pics of people other than thereselves….usually it’s an attempt to have unsuspecting men send their real pics to the user….ITS PATHETIC
-ME
10/03/02 02:31 PM
HEY ME
I’ve got a magazine at home that says Jackie had JFK killed – so that kinda shoots your theroy – who better to doctor a photo than a magazine looking for sales?
-Sure
10/03/02 03:51 PM
JUST PROVES THERE IS A SUCKER BORN EVERY MINUTE
Jay, the guy posting the pic is not the guy in the pic….get it??
-anonymous
10/03/02 05:02 PM
ILLITERATE, TOO
When did Canada become a city?
-Buckaroo
10/03/02 05:21 PM
LISTEN UP!!
u stupid trolls!! this isn’t a fake. this guy is one of my friends & i’ve seen it & it is all real. no wonder gays can’t get anywhere in the world. we as a whole r 2 bz trying to put & keep each other down. give it a rest u bitter queens.
-johnna
10/03/02 06:45 PM
AD
Well, I concure that this is a fake, I have the mag. also and it is no where that big. So, don’t chastise those trying to further the truth.
-nakedguy
10/03/02 06:56 PM
You guys have WAY too much time on your hands….
-anonymous
10/03/02 09:44 PM
JAY AGAIN…
well…maybe the guy that posted this ad is not the guy in the pic, however i believe the pic is real…thanks to the last poster who said “we have too much time on our hands”..so true…i hate the gay life …so many “bi’s” in denial…so many superficial assholes….just wish i liked women and could marry and have kids…this lifestyle is full of immoral perverts and “wanna-be” straight guys in denial…..HOW PATHETIC (i put myself in this category too..so much want to change, but at 35 yrs old…i don’t think so)
-jay
10/03/02 11:05 PM
A REAL FAKE
Hey guys this is a real fake. However if it is not send him right over.
-bob
10/03/02 11:25 PM
THE PICTURE
has been in many magazines and on many web sites. Don’t think the guy in the picture needs to post here for a date, so “Cityboy” probably posted it for laughs.
-boyeur
10/03/02 11:38 PM
WHO CARES?
fake or not, this is a *nice* picture!
-Patrick
10/04/02 12:49 AM
WHINY LITTLE TATTLETALES
SO FUCKING WHAT IF THIS PIC IS FAKE OR NOT, AND WHO GIVES A FUCKING SHIT WHO POSTED IT, I SHOT MY LOAD AND REALLY BITCHES, THAT ALL THAT MATTERS. As if any of you whiny, bitchy tattletelling bitches would have a chance in hell with this guy if you ever met him. Got nothing better to do than to whine like silly little girls, just like you did when you where children. Well know one thing loosers, that while you were crying to your mommy trattle telling, I was shoving my prick up somebody’s ass, or getting it sucked. OOH!!! what did I say??? Go ahead bitches tell my mommy too! -LOL
-The Truth!
10/04/02 03:07 AM
JOHNNA – GET A GRIP
If this guy was a friend of yours then you would know that he did not post this crap. You are full of it – in your dreams.
-anonymous
10/04/02 03:09 AM
JUST ONCE….
Just once I’d love the opportunity to deepthroat, swallow and anally receive an over 9″ dick. Biggest so far ( to the balls) was 8.5″. Toronto area 100% bottom here. Any volunteers?
-DeMouth
10/04/02 03:38 AM
FAKE OR NOT
fake or not, it’s quite nice to imagine having a go of it :))
-asian4bigmen
10/04/02 10:06 AM
I’LL SAY….
my my! i am a photoshop user, and edit a lot of digital stuff, and this is a really bad job!
-dangke
10/04/02 01:03 PM
ITS A PHOTOSHOP JOB
The last reply before this one is correct. If you all are detailed oriented and you’ve had as many cocks as i’ve had im my 15years in the life, you will notice that at the tip of this “FAKE JOB”, there is a hailo around the top that looks almost like a shadow and given the lights direction, cannot be psossibly produced in real life eccept in Photoshop.
-Sergio
10/04/02 01:53 PM
COCK EXPERT
….and berore you chastise the last critique, here some words to the wise. In this day an age, if you wanna get a date. AT LEAST BE FOR REAL!!!….Honesty will get you very far in life. Dishonesty would only give you and others a headache and maybe even worst.
-Sergio
10/04/02 02:01 PM
GOOD LORD!!
Wow! is that for real? It’s just wonderful, you’ve got a fan in Mexico City, whenever you want to come, you’re more than welcome!!!!!! Congratulations.
-Bruno
10/04/02 06:39 PM
YES – IT IS FAKE…..
.and not so sure I’d want to play with something like it! Looks like a whole lot of injected fat cells!……..but, the real fakes here are all these guys who post messages and are afraid to list thier names-emails-sites etc etc for fear of reprisals by other senders?.the guy you are attacking? what?…….post your site,a pic,whatever and be happy PEOPLE even LOOK at it……leave the insecurity at the door………….my ad is real,my pic is real, my profile is real, as are my name and addy here….the beauty of guystats is that we GET to post stuff for DISPLAY…………….accept whatever comes along and let it go at that………for fun or for serious intents…….whatever the reason behind it. Just remember that if you post fakes and eventually you DO hook up with someone,you only let yourself down because of it. Enjoyed all the commentary though…..this has to be the most messages I have seen in a while about a single posting. dova
-dova
10/05/02 08:04 PM
Calling All Bears
Okay, so the BEAR BODY show is going to happen. (We definitely need a catchier title–but no slashes, dis’s, con’s, or ism’s–any ideas?) 20055, February, at the LAB, San Francisco. Here’s the list so far:
Su-Chen Hung
Chris Komater
Dean Smith
Chris Vandemore
Conspicuously missing from this list are visual artists (real ones, BC) of a more hefty furry nature, making visual art about their own bodies. We need about 4 more artists. I have a short list of artists who interest me, but since we envision this show as representing a balance between lesser-known and seasoned artistic sensibilities, please pass on any names of artists you know who might be appropriate. We’re not looking for the soft-core bear porn schtick, but work that addresses the eroticization and aestheticization of body hair and weight subtly, even abstractly. Okay, we’d show the bear porn stuff, but it’s got to be really good.
The LAB is a cavernous space, with 20 foot high walls, and I’m thinking of making something really big. Big and hairy. Or something really really small, since smallness will be amplified by the space and the subject matter and given a certain grandeur by juxtaposition.
Mty Favorite Day of the Year, and the Day After
Today is my favorite day of the year. All at once the shadows are really long, there’s a little nip in the air, my garden is suddenly shaded. The colors seem more saturated, the scents more intense. It feels like everything’s going to sleep. I want to just stare out into my garden or at the shadows moving across my bedroom wall like a cat.
Speaking of looking, the Folsom Street Fair did not disappoint yesterday. In addition to the usual number of shaved weenies flopping about in the sun, we witnessed several seemingly illegal and audacious displays of exhibitionism. One guy, shaved muff–what is with the shaved muff? It seems like the desire to reveal is taken to the extreme, but it’s so not enticing visually or texturally–anyway, there was this guy with the shaved oiled body stroking his flopper right there in the noon-day sun! A crowd gathered around him and he eventually squirted, or rather dribbled, with a little squeak, a trembling of the body, and a “Happy Folsom, Everybody!” The crowd clapped politely and moved on to the next dude…
This guy had a body the color of a greased doughnut, shaved muff again, and one of those downward-hooked honkers that seem like they couldn’t actually be inserted into anything without a great deal of acrobatics and extreme flexibility. He led around a woman on a little leash, and she photographed him as he oiled and stroked his very tightly circumcised downward-hooked thingy. No money shot for this guy, but lots of sincerity and good posture.
It was thrilling to see and smell all that hair and flesh and cowhide, but penises just look silly in broad daylight, and especially those god awful shaved things. Does anyone like having sandpaper banged against his butt? Thank god for BC’s glorious uncoiffed muff pie.
Work News Flash
My boss informed me at work today that his botox treatment was fading, lines already re-appearing after only a few weeks, and that the reason his face was peeling, cracked, and red was because he’s initiated an emergency 6-week chemical peel. For the next month and a half I will be working with the picture of Dorian Gray, and then Dorian himself, hopefully.
My Little Brother’s Big Wedding
My little brother Markie and his girlfriend, Keith, finally tied the knot yesterday. I was a groomsman. Warren was there, my old buddy from high school–well actually Mark’s old buddy and one of my greatest high school crushes. When I was applying for art schools I made up a story that I needed some nudes for my portfolio and convinced him to pose for me. I’ve since made a career of this ploy… So, my first close ups. God I wish I still had them–one of his testicles is now gone. Forever. I’ll tell you about Warren later… The wedding took place in a small garden in the Valley of the Moon in Sonoma County. The service was lovely, with a heavy emphasis on community. My family was all blubbery. The dinner was yummy and the wine not bad for 2.99 a bottle. We threw rosemary and lavender at the couple. The wedding party smelled of potpourri all evening. Keith’s mother, Jo (“Jo Momma”), had a little party in her suite at the Flamingo Hotel later. We drank, ate cake, and popped in and out of the hottub and pool ’til the wee hours. Mark and Keith have a nice gaggle of gay friends, including Frida B, a seven foot tall gender illusionist, and the ever-bouncy Andrew, one of Keith’s more full-figured bridesmaids and my vote for Miss Congeniality.
A Wedding, Silent Japanese Films, Peter, Lee, Emily and I Want My Beard Back
My family is in town for my little brother Mark’s wedding, all of them, and they’re all staying with me, on the floor, in my bed, my studio… Carol and Sue are putting the finishing touches on Keith’s (the bride’s) dress, 80 buttons, Carol’s design–a low-back silk/satin sheath with a bateau neckline, lace appliqué and pearls, fish-tail hem, detachable silk organza sweep train. It’s stunning. Carol’s designs remind me of Adrian’s–typically cut on the bias and form fitting. She has a line of clothes called “Retreads” using vintage designs and made from vintage table cloths, wool blankets and such.
I saw three really interesting silent films at the PFA on Sunday. The films were presented with the live accompaniment of a Japanese benshi, one of the few remaining practitioners in Japan. Benshi provided simultaneous spoken interpretations of the dialogue and plot of silent films during screenings in the silent film era, which lasted in Japan well through the 1930’s. It was an art form that was integrated into the experience of silent film, similar to the narrator in Kabuki. The benshi, Midori Sawato, has been performing for 30 years, and although I didn’t understand much of what she said, her tonal inflections and mimicry of the dialogue really brought the images to life. My friend Earl Jackson, who speaks fluent Japanese, told me that she not only related interpretations of the dialog and scenario, but also offered her own interpretations of and speculations about manners, language and style.
One of the films was a very early film by Ozu, I Was Born, But…, made before he developed his signature visual style of single long shots, compositions with no closeups, panning, or tracking shots. The film is about how two young boys learn about the hierarchy of the Japanese social structure, coming to terms with who has power in the adult world and why, while realizing also that it doesn’t apply to them yet, and working it while they still can. There was also a short about a man who is killed by his lover’s father and then comes back as a ghost to successfully woo her. He returns to the world of the living only after trying and failing quite comically to get comfortable in his teeny little grave. The final film was Cecile B. DeMille’s The Cheat, and featured an evil high society Japanese character, who BRANDS his white socialite would-be-lover when she fails to surrender the pink after borrowing $10,000 to cover for her failed stock market investment–and remember this was all shown with the benshi’s near-hysterical renderings of all male and female dialog, in Japanese.
I’ve reconnected with my very dear friend, Peter, my oldest and bestest friefnd in town, with whom, for some inexplicable reason, I’d lost contact. His boyfriend of 13 years is leaving him, or until last night, was, anyway, but now it seems that they’re willing to call time out until the boyfriend works through his confusing and conflicting desires. Peter came over for dinner Friday and I wouldn’t let him go. Have you ever enjoyed someone’s presence so intensely that you fear the silence that will follow their departure? In Wuthering Heights, Cathy describes her love for Heathcliff and their kindred souls in increasingly histrionic terms, culminating in the realization “I AM HEATHCLIFF!” I AM PETER!
Speaking of Peter’s once and maybe future boyfriend–he has opened a Chinese antique shop south of market–I went to the opening tonight. It was like Auntie Mame’s place after the trip to the Orient. Oh my God. If you need a Tang Dynasty horse, get on down to “Artique.”
Speaking of antiquities, I picked up my latest piece of California Faience today–a matte blue vase, tapered severely at the base (making it top-heavy and thus scarce), with an elegant flanged top and inwardly tapered lip.
Tonight over dinner with the fabulous and talented artist Emily, we talked a lot about consumption, and love. As I was signing the bill, I realized that I had lost the ability to write cursive in sixth grade due to an intense crush that I had on Lee Little. Lee… I didn’t quite understand and couldn’t articulate the attraction that I felt for him back then, but instead adopted his printed upper case R’s and E’s as a way of having him in some way. Every time I wrote my full name, which has three R’s and two E’s, I was making love to Lee Little. Being him was the next best thing to loving him–or the only thing I could think of.
Okay, so after my brother’s wedding, I’m growing my beard back. I keep stroking my phantom fur, and there’s face, only face…