Eric Scott Matthews

Wet Streets

In the movies, streets are almost always wet even if it never rains.  On film, black shining asphalt shows more contrast, is more dramatic.  Is more than just a street.
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But in the real world, it can’t rain all the time.  Surfaces are cracked and dry and grey.  There are potholes in the real world.  What you don’t see in the movies are the hoses streaming, washing the streets before a scene is filmed.
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And so, of course, many people still expect the fairy tale, the drama, and everything to shine.  I do it too.  But writers do not create the stories of our lives.  If we want that glimmer of a wet street we have to deal with rain.
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New Year’s Eve is coming up.  And it is one of those times of high expectation.  The stories never really leave us.  For me, it’s that midnight kiss.  I admit it, I think all cynics are secretly romantics with a hard candy shell.  I’m like that.  No matter what the barriers, I kinda hope I will be standing there at midnight kissing that guy I’m in love with.  Maybe we walk out of the club, or the party, or wherever he surprised me at and we step out into a sparkling street, ok maybe it’s softly lit and fluffy with white snow instead.
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It’s a fantasy, and let's face it, even if we get a little bit of that fantasy we’re not satisfied.
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Eventually we have to look outside and see the world for what it really is.  You can’t always live a movie life, or rather, you can’t ever live a movie life. We can’t delete the scenes we don’t like.   We have to accept reality for what it is.  It’s not always easy when we’re always looking at a fantasy and comparing.  But this is what we have.  And if we can’t learn to accept it, then we end up with nothing but regret.

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Letters

I don’t write many personal letters.  But, it seems, no one really does anymore.  Obligatory holiday and birthday cards seems to be all most of us can manage.  Despite the number of words I type out pretty much every day, I’ve only written two letters in the last 5 years
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I have to admit though, when I receive one, which is almost as rare as I write one, it’s a big deal.  And this last week I received two.
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One from my sister and another from my Mom last week!  It’s funny how much more important letters always seem to be than an E-mail or a phone call.  I think it’s the extra effort.  The fact that someone actually spent some change on getting it to me.  The fact that someone made a decision at some point to actually write a letter, seal it up, address it, take it to a post office or a mailbox.   Writing a letter has a kind of ritual feel to me.  Letters have become a kind of archaic act.  I can never write one in a single draft.  The letter I wrote last year around this time took me a entire sheaf of paper to get right, and even then... 
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Even the delay in receiving a letter makes it special.  What else is so important these days, that someone actually has to wait for it?  The physical feel of the paper.  The sight of someone’s real words, maybe even hand written.
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It’s really different than any other kind of communication medium.  Not efficient.  But somehow that’s part of the charm.
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If you have never actually written a letter to someone you love, maybe you should consider it.  Something to do for the new year.  Even if you can’t or won't mail it.  There’s something special about a letter.

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brb

Obviously. I’ve taken an unannounced blog-cation.  And I almost feel guilty about it.  I was going through some stuff I needed to go through.  Various problems with Precious, my computer. And let’s face it, it’s been a busy week for most of you anyway. 
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You didn’t really miss anything.  Well except maybe my indignant drama at Avalon on Christmas night while, after dealing with a slavering drunken coat check line, I had to steal a friend's car keys and then solicit someone else to drive him home.  Yeah, I could have probably managed to drive a stick, but fo those of you who don’t know, I don’t actually drive.  Don’t ask.  It’s a long story and pretty much a couple of blog entries in of itself.  It'll happen.  I'll write about it sometime
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The point is… I’m back.  Miss me?
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Winter Solstice

Technically the Winter Solstice is not the shortest day.  Technically here in the North East yesterday was the shortest day of the year.
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Maybe that's why I'm not terribly inspired lately.  It happens.  I have actually been writing a bit, but talking about that—writing about writing—can really kill the creativity.  And everything else I want to say falls in that category of things I don’t write about on here.
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This past weekend of party after party didn’t really help my motivation.  Brunch on Sunday somehow went 8 hours, though it was a kind of holiday party too.  When I left at 7:30 it had dwindled but was still burning.  And so I wrote Monday up to recovery.
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And this week. .  I’m feeling very confessional lately, but sometimes the catharsis isn’t worth it.  So of course I am avoiding human contact unless you count the on-line variety.
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This one on the other hand.  Umbrana is getting out a lot more lately.  Tonight The Spreading Taint is having a Winter Solstice Party on the Proudmoore server in teh game World of Warcraft.  Unlike me she actually gets invited to things instead of showing up as a perpetual plus one.  Is it a bad thing when I would rather go to a virtual party than a real one?

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What I told Alex today at Home Depot

My uncle gave me a toolbox for Christmas one year.
I used it for my make-up.

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Brokeback Mountain: A review, I mean it this time

So I finally saw Brokeback Mountain last night and while I promised not to review it, I simply can't help but talk a little about it.
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Mo's around the country may be disappointed today when they flock to see it.  Between all the talk-up of awards, the unending plugs by gay bloggers, and the inevitable criticism by gay-haters both religious and secular who have clearly not even seen the movie nor read the short story, you might expect a different kind of movie.   It is kinda hard to find a review that just talks about the movie on its own merits.
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Let me assure you first of all that this is not a "gay movie".  There is no club scene at the end.  No transsexual best friend, lip-sinking fag hag, drug haze, or even a Pet Shop Boys soundtrack.  And no, Frank, there is no piss scene.  The movie is slow and not as one might exepct melodramatic.  While I watched it, I kept thinking about the sheep flowing up the mountain "like dirty water".  That's what the this movie looks like.  We see more chopping wood than naked boys getting it on.
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And about that.  We are used to seeing heterosexual sex scenes in R rated movies that are almost soft-core porn.  Don't expect some homo version of the same.  Ang lee is infamously cautious when it comes to what he shows.  It's a talent really, to tell a story as much by what is not shown as by what is.
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Even more surprising especially for those Mo's out there who ran out to see Jarhead mostly because of a gymmed out Jake Gyllenhaal, Heath and Jake clearly did not go to the gym during the making of this film.  For some reason Ang Lee seemed to want the movie believable.  Go figure,  No LA Sports Club on a mountian in Wyoming in 1963.  I think I even heard a groan of disappointment in the theatre when a pale shirtless Heath Ledger came on screen looking less a Hollywood actor and more a real cowboy.  The guys in this story are not supposed to be that pretty.  They both still are, but the movie doesn't play on is.  Sorry guys.
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What will be most disappointing, oddly for both a lot of gays and the Christian Right who are just looking for that glorification of sin to talk about, is that this movie is not some inspiring romance where the two cowboys find happiness as both parties seem to imply in their dueling reviews.  This is not the tale of gay cowboys who abandon their straight wives and children for the sins and joys of gay identity.  In fact, this movie is really about the tragedy of what happens, a tragedy for all really, when they can't. This movie is bound to dissapoint a lot of people.  I imagine a lot of people will even call it "boring".
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And by the way this is one of the best movies I have ever seen.  I never say that.

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Ray's Hot Cocoa Martini Birthday

Music:  Found a Cure—Ultra Nate

Ray’s finally back from a birthday trip to LA, so last night Randy, Phil (you may remember him from such blog entries as: Not a Good Look Tour  and Game Night), and I took Princess Raymond out for drinks, dinner… and then more drinks.
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We ate at 224 mostly because it is the traditional gay hang out in Dotty and because Princess Ray couldn’t make a decision on his own to where she would like to eat.  I love 224 and hope to god their lamb sandwiches come back this spring. I think I still have an ancient T-shirt advertising 224 as the “home of the chocolate martini” that some trick left at my place in like 1997.  224 was old even then.  It was gay-friendly in Dotty back in the days when the first Boson gay pioneers ventured forth from the relative safety of the quickly gentrifying South End to deep into the ghetto.  Ok, Boston Street isn’t exactly deep in Dotty, but no one can take it all the way the first time, right?  I prefer 224 in the summer and the fall.  While the place is comfortable and neighborhoody, in the winter it's freezing.  Old-fashioned single-pane windows give it that ramshackle feel as if it used to be some guy's fishing shed.  Homey, but in need of some freaking insulation.
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So after our very tasty meal Ray wanted to “go out for drinks” as if we didn’t just have several rounds of various holiday-themed martinis.  And of course we went to dbar, where Brian treated Ray and I to Hot Cocoa Martinis.  You gotta laugh when you see two guys holding martini stems with teacups grafted on to them  as if Dr. Moreau had taken over behind the bar.  Confusion and high camp are two of my favorite ingredients for a good night.  And as always, I ran into someone surprising at dbar.  This time it was Mike on a date with this kid Ryan that I have chatted with a few times on-line but had never actually met before.  HI Ryan— yeah that was me!  I was pleasantly buzzed by that time and couldn’t remember his name, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t recognize me.  Mike prolly thought I was just trying to throw a wrench in his date plans.  He and I have this weird love/hate competition thing going on ever since I inadvertently kinda sorta stole a guy from him at his birthday party.  We’ve made up since then.  Though if he doesn’t send me pics of last Friday soon, the gloves are coming off.  Hehe.
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Fun times.  And on a Wednesday.  This does not bode well for this weekend, which is chock full of parties of the birthday and holiday variety.  Someone remind me to take my camera.  And tonight… Brokeback.

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apparently, I can’t even afford to get laid anymore

After reading a another nugget from Steven Leavitt (Freakonomics) along with Steven Dubner in the NYT, it turns out that I think like an economist.  And this new article in The Times Magazine about the price of sex makes total sense to me.
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When I buy something I think in terms of time rather than actual dollars.  How many hours will I have to work to get this?  I also consider the PIA (pain in the ass) factor of almost anything I do.  Is seeing that movie worth waiting in line, is the extra couple-a bucks on Fandango really worth saving me the time.  Is going to dinner with so and so really worth me battling the now bitter temperatures, when I can save money and time, and eat healthier (yes my health is another factor) by cooking for myself. 
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For me, one of the biggest costs of a thing is the stress it causes me.  I’ve never been a fan of certain kinds of stress.  I learned to meditate when I was a kid after my temper got a bit out of control, and I have been a fan ever since.
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Everything has a cost, and that isn’t always money.  People should always remember that when you get something for “free”.

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HIV Rapid Test May Have More False Positives

So yeah that "rapid test"  for HIV we have all been taking to avoid the stress of that week long wait, not so much.

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Bareback Mountain

So on the good news side I scored “preview” tickets to see Brokeback Mountain on Thursday,which every gay blogger besides me has already apparently seen and raved about ad nauseum.

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So I won’t blog an actual review of this one, though you all should go see it simply because Annie Proulx (pronounced PrOO, in case you were wondering) is such an amazing writer.  I read Brokeback Mountain about 5 years ago and loved it, and not just because it fed my little cowboy fantasy.

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I hate to agree with some whispers of criticism of Ang Lee for his “big risk”, but they’re right, the story really isn’t as risky or daring as everyone is raving about.  Boy’s in the Band came out in 1970 and there was Cabaret in 1972.  It’s almost 2006 people.  A mainstream gay love story is way way way overdue.  And the box office numbers will prove that out.

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By now we have even had gay love stories, ones that actually have happy endings.  And some of those movies have even made a little money.  This movie did not cost near what King Kong did, but has nearly as much marketing as the big gorilla.  So to call a movie with:  two of the hottest actors in Hollywood,  a “controversial” theme which Oscar always loves, a story written by a Pulitzer Prize winner, almost as much preview and commercial exposure as King Kong, and probably twice the interviews in magazines and morning shows over the last two months, not to mention killer word of mouth from the gay community, a "risk".  It's total bullshit. 

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So Ang Lee taking a big risk?  Give me a break.  This movie has had more marketing attention than The Blair Witch Project. 

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And well the story:  Sure it’s a gay love story, but it’s not like the Jack and Ennis end up together and happy.  I wouldn’t wish their lives on Rick Santorum let alone any actual gay people.  A story about gay people that ends in loneliness— yeah that’s what Hollywood calls risky these days.

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The movie is about one gay man and one maybe bi guy who fall in love before “gay” even exists.  It’s 1963.  And it is a tragedy.  What happens feels inevitable, and that is depressing.  But it is also an important story, and a beautiful one in all its yearning loneliness.

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So definitely go see it.  But let’s not give Ang Lee a pink star for amazing valor just yet.  This movie was bound to make money, not just from us homos, but our liberal Jake and Heath loving female friends (and women spend more money on non-action movies then men do).  It’s already averaged more than $100,000 PER THEATER in its first weekend in limited release.  That's amazing box office.

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Ok, I’m really just bitter that I don’t have a date to take to the biggest gay film ever.

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