Quantcast
Channel: Gender and sexuality – Arnold Zwicky's Blog
Viewing all 1188 articles
Browse latest View live

Out gay male bands

$
0
0

(On way gay, outrageous, and confrontational male musicians, so plenty of sex talk. Use your judgment.)

On the 9th, from a poster in the LGBT district of Facebook:

I was listening to WFUV [in New York City] … at the gym this afternoon when they played a song from a band called PWR BTTM. Anyone heard of them before? Gay male bands are rare – I can only think of two: Pansy Division and Jinx Titanic – although I’m not an authority on the genre. They seem to have a following in larger cities as tickets are already sold out for their upcoming tour. Their site has a few of their songs.

And another poster extolled

Superfruit, which is made up the two gay members of Pentatonix, Scott and Mitch.

Both of these are bands of the minimum size: two members. And both, as well as Pansy Division and Jinx Titanic, tend to the outrageous and confrontational. I’m not an authority on the genre, either (but, yes, there have been other out gay male bands), so I’ll stick to these four: first, the duos, then the larger groups.

PWR BTTM. A wonderful p.r. shot of the duo, Liv Bruce on the left, Ben Hopkins on the right:

(#1)

From Wikipedia:

PWR BTTM is an American queer punk duo composed of Liv Bruce and Ben Hopkins [who met at Bard College in 2011 and started performing together there]

The duo’s name is an alternative to the term “power bottom”, which is described by Fusion writer John Walker in a September 2015 article as “a receptive partner who eschews submission to play a dominant role during sex”, meaning that while someone is “bottoming”, they maintain the dominant power in a sexual interaction. Bruce and Hopkins both felt the name suited the group as a label of empowerment.

(Extensive discussion in my 5/4/11 posting “Power bottoms”.)

From a 2016 NPR piece on the band:

Both Hopkins and Bruce identify as queer and prefer gender-neutral they/them pronouns, and Bruce has a non-binary gender identity. The objects of desire and the breakers of hearts in their lyrics exist across the gender spectrum, and as the glitter and the glam-pop sound and even the band’s tongue-in-check name attest, the world of PWR BTTM is one in which — through some combination of humor, honesty, and pop-punk hooks — queerness is mainstreamed without losing what makes it revolutionary.

…  [They write] lyrics like “My girl gets scared / can’t take him anywhere”

Hopkins presents as male, albeit a guy with lots of glitter and makeup, often performing in a dress, but clearly a guy. Bruce, who started with the group under the name Oliver Bruce, presents as female, and now uses the feminine name Liv and uses feminine pronouns for herself. But she’s not trans, she’s genderqueer, as you can see in another p.r. photo:

(#2)

Yes, outrageous, flat-out queer, and appropriately punk-noisy, but not at all nasty. Celebratory, instead, fun to watch and listen to. Ben Hopkins told SPIN:

Rather than writing about my experiences with other people, ‘Ugly Cherries’ is the first song I’ve ever written about myself. It’s a confrontation: an attempt to unpack my own queerness with humor and self care. I just got so fucking tired of wishing I was different so I decided to scream, ‘She’s all right’ until I actually was.

Themes recur in the way musicians talk about their queer careers: they really love to create music; out queer music provides them with a way to work through their personal experiences of coming out and trying to find a way to live their lives (Jake Shears of Scissor Sisters is poignantly articulate on the topic; see some discussion in my 11/20/10 posting “Bullying and rage”.); and most of them appreciate that they reach out to a large audience of kids who really need the support and validation the music can provide.

Two videos: “Ugly Cherries” here and “Big Beautiful Day” here. YouTube will probably lead you from them to more videos from the band.

Superfruit. PWR BTTM does punk; Superfruit, with its roots in a cappella music, does pop. PWR BTTM is genderqueer; Superfruit is two cute gay guys, usually smiling:

(#3)

Grassi and Hoying

From Wikipedia:

Superfruit (often stylized as SUP3RFRUIT) is a comedy web show on YouTube, hosted by Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi (known professionally as Mitch Grassi) and Scott Richard Hoying (known professionally as Scott Hoying). Grassi and Hoying are both members of the a cappella group Pentatonix [originally formed in Arlington TX], and have been friends since they were 10 years old.

While the show mainly focuses on themselves and comedy, the show occasionally features vocal performances by Grassi and Hoying. They also tend to have a number of collaborations with many YouTube celebrities

The Pentatonix crew are accomplishedl, versatile singers, with a professional sheen that contrasts with the engaging amateurishness of many rock bands.

You can catch the video of the Superfruit guys doing “Bad 4 Us” here.

(Hat tip to Kim Darnell.)

Pansy Division. They’re old favorites of mine. I’ve been re-watching the 2009 documentary Pansy Division: Life in a Gay Rock Band while I write this posting, and I’ve posted about them several times, notably in the 12/16/12 posting “The gay underwear anthem”. One reference in that title is to their song “Anthem”: “We’re the buttfuckers of rock & roll / We wanna sock it to your hole” (the other is to gay underwear). Which sounds aggressive, but is, like almost all their music, cheerful and celebratorily gay. Somewhere between pop rock and punk. Drenched in gay sex, but also engagingly sweet.

Two samples you can listen to: “Smells Like Queer Spirit” here (bow to “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Bunnies” here (as in fuck like bunnies).

Jinx Titanic. One of Chicago’s prides. From Wikipedia:

(#4)

John Patrick Kamys, (born September 21, 1968, Chicago, IL), better known by his stage name Jinx Titanic, is an American composer, singer, songwriter, recording artist, and author, best known for his outrageous stage persona, and image as the beer-swilling, cigar-smoking, sexually candid, lead singer of the eponymous rock band. Occasionally he will appear as a stage actor, movie actor, comedian, television personality, or host, and is also considered a notable member of the Queercore and Homocore movements.

Often aggressive, but it’s so clearly an act that you mostly have to understand it as playful. From YouTube: “Trade” here (as in rough trade) and “Happy Fag” from Stuporstardom!



Chub and chums in the morning

$
0
0

Yesterday’s morning name was chub (the name of a fish), which led me to the rest of the bilabial-final family: chum, chump, and chup. (And that led to the velar-final family chug, Chung, chunk, chuck, but I won’t pursue that one here.) As it is, the bilabials will lead us into many surprising places, including the Hardy Boys books, eyewear retainers, Australian dog food, gay slurs, and hunky underwear models.

chub the fish. From NOAD2:

noun chub: a thick-bodied European river fish with a gray-green back and white underparts, popular with anglers. [Leuciscus cephalus, family Cyprinidae [carps, minnows, and their relatives].] ORIGIN late Middle English: of unknown origin.

Some plump chub netted in the River Trent (from a UK fishing site):

(#1)

The adjective chubby. Yes, the fish leads to the adjective. From NOAD2:

adjective chubby plump and rounded: a pretty child with chubby cheeks. ORIGIN early 17th century (in the sense ‘short and thickset, like a chub [fish]’).

The synthetic compound chubby-chaser. From GDoS:

noun chubby-chaser  a man who prefers (unfashionably) plump or fat women or, if gay, men. [first cite 1980 in the journal Maledicta]

A synthetic compound of the agentive type: ‘man who chases chubby people (for a romantic or sexual relationship)’.

Looking ahead a bit, chubby can be shortened in this compound to chub: the abbreviated chub chaser — as in this Filipino gay porn movie:

(#2)

Slang nouns chubby. From GDoS:

noun chubby

1 a short, squat umbrella [only cite 1927]

2 [play on fatness] an erection [first cite 1998; sometimes used for a semi-erection, partial hardon]

So you can have a morning chubby, just like morning wood.

And this sexual noun chubby, just like the chubby in chubby-chaser, can be shortened to chub.

Slang nouns chub. We are now in the territory of non-piscine nouns chub. From GDoS:

noun chub [Standard English chub, a short, squat fish; thus a pun on ‘thick’ or ‘dense’ or being ‘easily taken’]

1 an unexperenced, naive person, a fool. [first cite 1623; most recent cite 1823

2 a rustic, simpleton; thus chubbish adj.] [only cite 1666]

3 (UK Underground) a sharper [cites 1698-1776]

4 a fat person; the fat on the body [first cite 1838] [AZ: this is surely now seen as a shortening of chubby, as above, rather than as directly derived from the name of the fish]

5 (US campus) a child; a baby [only cite 1896, where a derivation from cherub is suggested; (AZ) but, again, now surely seen as related to chubby rather than to the fish chub]

6 [shortening of chubby ‘an erection’] an erection

Three nouns chum. From NOAD2:

noun chum 1: informal a close friend; a form of address expressing familiarity or friendliness: it’s your own fault, chum.
verb chum: [no object] to be friendly to or form a friendship with someone: they started chumming around in high school. ORIGIN late 17th century (originally Oxford University slang, denoting a roommate): probably short for chamber-fellow.

noun chum 2: chiefly North American chopped fish, fish fluids, and other material thrown overboard as angling bait; refuse from fish, especially that remaining after expressing oil.
[There are some reports of this chum being used to mean ‘menstrual flow’, (unpleasantly) alluding to both fish ‘vagina; a woman’ and to menstrual blood.]
verb chum [no object] use chum as bait when fishing. ORIGIN mid 19th century: of unknown origin.

noun chum 3: (also chum salmon) a large North Pacific salmon that is commercially important as a food fish. [Oncorhyncus keta, family Salmonidae.] ORIGIN early 20th century: from Chinook Jargon tzum (samun), literally ‘spotted (salmon).’

Friendly chum. chum 1 is one of a set of relational Ns of friendship in informal English, in particular:

(R) mate, pal, chum, buddy

These Ns denote ‘friend of s.o.’, where the related friend is canonically expressed as a possessor of N: a definite determiner, in NP’s N (his palFrank’s chum, etc.); or a possessive object of of in an indefinite nominal, in a N of NP’s (a mate of mine, some buddy of Frank’s, etc.). Canonically, the relationships are male-male, but the facts of actual usage are more complex than that.

(#3)

Male friendship: two mates/pals/chums/buddies

The choice of a particular relational N of friendship is sociolinguistically very complex. The friendship N mate is characteristically British or Australian, almost never used by North Americans; the friendship N buddy is characteristically North American, rarely used in the UK or Australia. The friendship Ns pal and chum are more widely distributed.

The relationship N chum originated in BrE and then spread into AmE, where for a time it was quite common. Note this Hardy Boys mystery:

(#4)

The Missing Chums is volume 4 in the original The Hardy Boys Mystery Stories published by Grosset & Dunlap [written in 1928, revised several times]… The plot concerns the disappearance of the Boys’ chums, Chet and Biff, when they take a motorboat trip down the coast. When Frank and Joe finally find them, they are all captured. In the end, they triumph over the bad guys on mysterious Hermit Island. (Wikipedia link)

In AmE, this use of chum has retreated; it now sounds dated to American ears, though it doesn’t sound entirely foreign. Consider the American company Chums, whose original products were eyewear retainers:

(#5)

The all-cotton, easily adjustable Chums Original Cotton retainer is the product that put us on the map. Millions agree: it is ideal for all forms of action, be it on water, land, snow, or in the air. The original cotton eyeglass retainer has it all: quality, comfort, and the ability to fit most standard frames. (company website link)

The company’s name comes from its mascot Chumley, a golden lab. (The company branched out into outdoor accessories, men’s sportswear, wallets and keychains; their principal competitor seems to be the Croakies company,) However, Chums is not above playing on the relational N chum:

(#6)

Relational chum continues to be widely available in BrE Two illustrations.

First, there’s the 1990s BBC comedy show, originally titled Harry Enfield’s Television Programme, but later, when its focus had moved from Enfield to Enfield and two of his friends, it became Harry Enfield and Chums (Wikipedia link).

And then there’s the British underwear company Bum-Chums:

Gay men across the world, it’s time to rejoice!! Bum-chums has arrived and is on a mission to rid the world of dull, dreary, sad and saggy men’s underwear and replace with fun, funky, form fitting fancies to caress your bottom and everything else!

Bum-Chums is a British brand with all of our pants made in Britain… That’s right… We design and make all of our great men’s underwear right here in England and we’re proud to say so too.

Our mission to make the best men’s underwear we can drives us in our every day struggle to get the world into our pants! That’s right; we want you to get in our pants! You heard us right! (link to company website)

Front and rear:

(#7)

(#8)

The rhyming name pairs relational chum with BrE bum ‘buttocks; anus’; it looks like the BrE counterpart of AmE butt buddy, but the BrE compound appears to be used only to refer to the bottom man in anal intercourse, while the AmE compound can (like asshole buddy) have this meaning, but is most often used to refer to an extremely close friend.

Then there’s the Australian dog food Chum, which comes in various flavors (lamb of course, also beef and chicken):

(#9)

(I’ll get to chumpy below.) I haven’t been able to find out where the name comes from, but it’s possible that chum is an allusion to “man’s best friend”.

Back to the relational Ns in (R). They are all usable as address terms as well as referentially, with one twist: though referential chum is no longer generally used in AmE, vocative chum thrives there (Listen, chum, I don’t believe a word of your story). So does the verbing chum, as in chum around with, and the adjective chummy.

The bait noun chum. This is the noun chum 2, referring to ground-up trash fish, used as bait. In a bag:

(#10)

Note terrible pun: Chum and Get’Em.

The salmon chum. This is the noun chum 3, referring to what is also known as the dog salmon or keta salmon.

(#11)

The noun chump. After the complexities of chum, chump is virtually a breeze. From NOAD2:

noun chump: informal a foolish or easily deceived person: how can this chump be a detective? ORIGIN early 18th century (in the sense ‘thick lump of wood’): probably a blend of chunk and lump or stump.

A somewhat better quote, the title of a story in Men’s Fitness:

10 Signs She’s Playing You Like a Chump

More from Down Under. After the ‘thick lump of wood’ and ‘easily deceived person’ senses, the Macquarie Dictionary (1981):

noun chump: 3. the thick blunt end of anything. 4. Colloq. the head. 5. Meat Industry. a section of lamb, hogget or mutton, between the leg and the loin, each chump containing approximately four chops.

From the Mulwarra Export Co., a bone-in lamb leg chump:

(#12)

This meaty chump is presumably the source of the “… so chumpy you can carve it” in #9, with chumpy ‘like a chump’, that is, like a piece of meat.

The word chup. The last of the bilabial-final series. This one has the vowel /U/ (as in put) rather than /ʌ/ (as in putt). From NOAD2:

exclamation chup: Indian be quiet! ORIGIN from Hindi cuprao.

So we end with Indian English. Well, not quite…

A couple extras, words that start with chup-, both pronounced with /u/. Both from GDoS:

noun chupa [orig. Sp.]: (US campus) a sucker, often used affectionately [cite from Eble in 1996]

adj. chupid:  [W.I. variant of stupid] gullible, ignorant [first cite 1869]


Calla, calla, calla, California

$
0
0

An Easter gift from Kim Darnell on Sunday: a handsome purple calla lily, looking dark bluish-purple in yellow interior light, but in fact bright pinkish-purple in sunlight. Purple is the liturgical color for the Lenten season, white for the Easter season, so both white and purple flowers are appropriate for this time of year. I’ll start here with the gift calla, in two photos; move on to callas in general and their sexual symbolism, with a digression on George O’Keeffe.

(Note: the title is a play on the song “Karma Chameleon”. From Wikipedia: “Karma Chameleon” is a song by English band Culture Club, featured on the group’s 1983 album Colour by Numbers. The original has karma x5 chameleon, but I’ve cut it down to x3 to save space.)

The gift calla. Here’s the photo I took, inside on a wet, overcast day, with my iPad; the image has been color-corrected as much as possible, but it’s still way off:

(#1)

On Tuesday, in bright sun outside, another friend took this photo on his iPhone, and that gets it just right:

(#2)

About callas. I’ve posted here once before calla lilies, in the 3/17/12 posting “St. Patrick”, with a section about calla lily as a resembloid, rather than subsective compound (calla lilies aren’t lilies, in the genus Lilium); about Katharine Hepburn on the flowers (“The calla lilies are in bloom again, such a strange flower, suitable to any occasion…”), and about the calla’s connection to weddings). This posting was about the classic calla:

(#3)

From Wikipedia:

Zantedeschia aethiopica (known as calla lily and arum lily) is a species in the family Araceae, native to southern Africa in Lesotho, South Africa, and Swaziland.

Zantedeschia aethiopica is a rhizomatous herbaceous perennial plant, evergreen where rainfall and temperatures are adequate, deciduous where there is a dry season. Its preferred habitat is in streams and ponds or on the banks. It grows to 2.0–3.3 ft tall, with large clumps of broad, arrow shaped dark green leaves up to 18 in long. The inflorescences are large and are produced in spring, summer and autumn, with a pure white spathe up to 9.8 in and a yellow spadix up to 3 1⁄2 in long. The spadix produces a faint, sweet fragrance.

The spathe is the part that looks like a conical petal, but is in fact a bract; think of the petal-like bracts of pointsettia or dogwood flowers. The spadix is the central part that looks like a stamen, but is in fact a spike of very small yellow flowers.

The showy trumpet-like whiteness of Z. aethiopica makes it a suitable Easter flower, an alternative to the standard Easter lily. From Wikipedia:

(#4)

Lilium longiflorum …, often called the Easter lily, is a plant endemic to the Ryukyu Islands (Japan). Lilium formosana, a closely related species from Taiwan, has been treated as a variety of Easter lily in the past. It is a stem rooting lily, growing up to 1 m (3 ft 3 in) high. It bears a number of trumpet shaped, white, fragrant, and outward facing flowers.

I hadn’t been aware of the wide variety of Z. aethiopica sports and hybrids between this species and other Zantedeschia species, yielding an extraordinary range of spathe colors, including bicolors. Assortments from two different seed and plant companies:

(#5)

(#6)

The calla as erotic symbol. The spathe serves as a vaginal symbol, and the spadix as either phallic or clitoral symbol, so callas are pretty much drenched in sexuality.

Which brings us to Georgia O’Keeffe, whose hundreds of flower paintings strike nearly everybody as powerfully sexual (though apparently she always rejected Freudian interpretations of these works). Calla lilies were a recurrent subject, as in White Calla Lily of 1927:

(#7)


rest stop

$
0
0

(A posting on the compound rest stop is inevitably going to take us into the world of mansex, so this posting will, eventually, be way out of bounds for kids and the sexually modest.)

The morning name on the 19th, which led me immediately to other rest compounds: rest area and restroom.

(#1)

(#2)

(#3)

There are the signs. What do we expect at the places the signs direct us to?

On the compounds. From OED3 (Mar. 2010), in the apparent order of their appearance in texts:

restroom: Originally: a room (usually in a public building or workplace) set aside for rest and relaxation (now rare). In later use (U.S.): a lavatory in a public building or workplace. [first cite in original sense a1856; first lavatory cite:]

1890   Ann. Rep. Directors Chesapeake & Ohio Railway Company 39   Each building is equipped with reading rooms provided with wholesome literature; also with bath and rest rooms. [In early instances, the compound was spelled separate rather than solid.]

rest area  n. a place designated for rest; spec. (a) (Mil.) an area away from the front line in which soldiers can recuperate, carry out maintenance, etc.;  (b) (N. Amer.) an area at the side of a road where vehicles may pull off the road and stop. [first cite 1916; first roadside cite, with restrooms presupposed:]

1976   G. V. Higgins Judgem. Deke Hunter ix. 86  The youth..stopped in a rest area..so that the subject could relieve himself. [This strikes me as very late for this compound, though it just might be that other terms were used for such places. For instance, the Pennsylvania Turnpike, which opened in 1940, has service plazas.]

rest stop  n. chiefly N. Amer. a lay-by or roadside stopping place, often provided with facilities for travellers; cf. rest area n. (b). [first cite 1930]

So restroom was originally ‘room for rest(ing)’ and then specialized (in the U.S.) to refer to just one of the activities one might engage in in such a room.

Similarly, rest area was originally semantically transparent, but then specialized in two different contexts, military and (in North America) automotive. Still, area maintains its root sense. But stop in rest stop is itself specialized. NOAD2 on relevant senses of the noun stop (a nouning of the verb), starting with its root sense, 1:

1 a cessation of movement or operation: all business came to a stop | there were constant stops and changes of pace; [1a] a break or halt during a journey: allow an hour or so for driving and as long as you like for stops | the flight landed for a refueling stop; [1b] a place designated for a bus or train to halt and pick up or drop off passengers: the bus was pulling up at her stop.

The sense of stop in rest stop has elements of the senses [1a] and [1b]: like [1b] it refers to a place, an area, but (see [1a]) specifically devoted to breaks during a journey. The full compound rest stop is then further specialized to denote places that provide various services for automotive travelers taking a break in their trips.

From early on, it seems that one of the usually expected services at rest areas and rest stops has been restrooms. Sometimes the signage makes this explicit, as in this Australian sign:

(#4)

which tells travelers that this particular area has truck parking, restrooms, and picnic tables.

Rest areas or rest stops with minimal services are often marked by signs that indicate this. For instance, if the location provides only a lay-by (‘an area at the side of a road where vehicles may pull off the road and stop’ (NOAD2)) plus a picnic area, this sign says so:

(#5)

Wikipedia treats rest area as the most embracing term and attempts to take in customs and terminology from all around the world, including both government-run and private commercial sites, somewhat chaotically:

A rest area, travel plaza, rest stop, or service area is a public facility, located next to a large thoroughfare such as a highway, expressway, or freeway at which drivers and passengers can rest, eat, or refuel without exiting onto secondary roads. Other names include motorway service area, service station, rest and service area (RSA), resto, service plaza, and service centre. Facilities may include park-like areas, fuel stations, restrooms, restaurants, and dump and fill stations for recreational vehicles. A rest area or rest stop with limited or no public facility is a parking area or scenic area. Along some highways and roads are rest stops known as a wayside parks, roadside parks, or picnic areas. Rest areas are common in the United States, Canada, Australia, and parts of Europe, Africa, and Asia. The most basic rest areas have no facilities: they consist solely of an exit from the highway that leads to a roadway with paved shoulders, where drivers can rest, look at their maps, or use cell phones.

Many government-run rest areas tend to be located in remote and rural areas where there are practically no fast food or full-service restaurants, gas stations, motels, and other traveler services nearby. The locations of rest areas are usually marked by signs on the highway; for example, a sign may read, “Next Rest Stop 10 miles” or “Next Rest Area 25 km”.

Driving information is usually available at these locations, such as posted maps and other local information. Some rest areas have visitor information centers or highway patrol or state trooper stations with staff on duty. There might also be drinking fountains, vending machines, pay telephones, restrooms, a gas station, a restaurant, or a convenience store at a rest area. Some states provide Wi-Fi access at their state-owned rest areas or are considering doing so… Many rest areas have picnic areas. Rest areas tend to have traveler information in the form of so-called “exit guides”, which often contain very basic maps and advertisements for motels and tourist attractions.

Privatized commercial rest areas may take a form of a truck stop complete with a filling station, arcade video games, and recreation center, shower facilities, and fast food restaurant, cafeteria, or food court all under one roof immediately adjacent to the freeway. Some even offer business services, such as ATMs, fax machines, office cubicles, and internet access.

In the U.S., at any rate, there is a strong expectation that something labeled a rest stop will have restrooms available, either in free-standing structures or along with a filling station or a restaurant of some sort. The canonical rest stop, in fact, has free-standing restrooms (and sometimes very little else), making their mensrooms prime candidates for roadside t-rooms: places for mansex, either in the mensroom itself or by negotiation (in the mensroom or outside it) for action elsewhere. Any mensroom in a public building is a potential t-room, but rest stop mensrooms are especially well-suited for this purpose.

Rest stop mansex. I’ve posted fairly often on t-room sex — most recently on 1/24/17 in “A day with Danny Vox in the ultimate fantasy t-room”. That was in a bus station mensroom. On to rest stops and Conner Habib’s Salon essay of 3/29/12, “Rest stop confidential: Across America, countless men are meeting up for sex in highway bathrooms. I’m one of them. Here’s why”. Highlights:

If you’ve ever pulled over to a rest area, you’ve been near men having sex. I’m one of those men, I’ve done it a hundred times; we go into the woods or a truck with tinted windows, in a stall under cold light. It never stops, not for season or time. In the winter, men trudge through snow to be with each other, in the summer, men leave the woods with ticks clinging to their legs. Have you ever stopped at a rest area and found it completely empty? There’s always one man there, in his car, waiting to meet someone new.

This has been going on for a long, long time. The new ways that men meet — endlessly staring into phones, searching on hookup apps like Grindr or sites like Manhunt — haven’t changed the fact that we’re still having sex at rest areas, because they offer something different. For the man who is unsure of his sexuality, or unsure of how to tell others about it, for the man who has a family but feels new desires (or old, hidden ones) unfolding inside of him, the website and the phone apps are just too certain of themselves. They’re for gay men who want to have gay sex. Sex at the rest area, instead, abolishes identity; there’s a sort of freedom there to not be anything – instead, men just meet other men there; men who want the same sort of freedom.

… Sometimes men go to rest areas because there’s nowhere else to go. My college town and my hometown were surrounded by thick lines of trees and post-industrial abandoned factories. There was no way to meet anyone, or if there was, it felt forced, somehow. Maybe I could go on dates with a few guys who were out like me, but I didn’t really want to go on dates, so it would’ve been dishonest. The straight students were going to parties and hooking up, making out on the green, having sex in dorms. The gay guys had to do what they could, wherever they could find it. Making out drunkenly with straight also-drunk frat boys, sex in the library with townies, trips to the nearest big city: either do those things or sit with your sexual feelings, like many of us had our entire lives. All that energy and nowhere to put it, no one to share it with.

Someone else would park next to me and look over. There were lots of old men, and younger ones too. There was no signal, just the way we looked at one another. We could tell. I would go into the little bathroom building, like the one in Maine. At the urinals, when the bathroom was mostly empty, we could stand side by side and reach over to each other. Or if not at the urinals, someone would be sitting in the stall next to me, tapping his foot, and I’d get on the cold dirty floor and slide my body halfway underneath the divider or sometimes there’d be a hole in the wall.

After awhile I began to develop a strange feeling at rest areas, like I was giving myself to someone. Not that I gave my full self, but that the part of myself I did give was complete. There was no pretense, no awkward conversation or dancing around whether or not I should be attracted to somebody. There was no wondering if someone was straight or gay; there was no sexual orientation at all. We were just there, together, as ourselves.

Often, there was fence that blocked off the woods, and a break in that fence cut by someone who had been there before. There was a path of mud through the grass, worn down by use. In the woods, we’d find a clearing, and there, many things would happen. So many people and bodies, all looking for the same thing. So many of us past the fence, in the woods, under the sky. It was easy, at times like that, to see that there are far more men in need of other men than anyone knows.

And just as people’s identities blurred up, so did the idea of place itself; that was part of the appeal. Once I saw a bag of condoms nailed to a tree with a sign that read, “Be Safe Guys.” It was a kind gesture, but it somehow felt like an intrusion. Because these places weren’t quite places, they weren’t destinations; not for most people. They were away from hookup websites, away from houses, bars, clubs, lives — removed from the world. And when the world crept in, it made the experience less real, less itself.

… These places give wholly different lives to some people. I don’t know if these men are “gay” or “straight.” Does it matter? At a spot that for most people is on the way to somewhere else, men can meet each other and meet themselves.

I live in San Francisco now, and there’s more acceptance here of sexuality and identity than anywhere I’ve ever been. There’s also very little anonymous sex. “Anonymous” sex here means meeting a man online or on Grindr or at the bar, learning his name, going back to his apartment or mine. It’s not a bad thing, of course, but I miss being a nobody at an in-between place, a no-place. Here, I have to be somebody, everything is so defined around the edges. At the rest area, I could just be a body, be there for some other body that I didn’t know, that was longing for the sort of comfort and love that only no one, nowhere could give.

Conner Habib has appeared on this blog before, most notably in my AZBlogX posting of 4/1/13, “Easter threesomes”, where I quoted from a writer on gay porn:

Conner Habib isn’t just a pretty face – or a horny, hairy fucker – he’s got one degree and has been studying for another in philosophy. A creative writing and literature teacher by profession, he left his job to go to San Francisco and make porn. He first made a big splash in the industry in 2009 and describes his idols as Blake Harper and Zak Spears. He says he got into the porn in part to use some of the sexual energy he generates and some of his best work has been with Raging Stallion. You’ll more often see him bottoming but he has topped too – and in 2010 he was named best newcomer at the GayVN Awards.

Habib has a web site that features both his writing and lecturing about sex and pornography and also his porn career (with photos). And then he won a 2016 Sexual Freedom Award (UK), getting this write-up as Publicist of the Year:

(#6)

Conner Habib is an author, lecturer, activist, and porn performer. His essays and articles have appeared in Stranger, Salon, Vice, Slate, The Advocate, and many other magazines and anthologies.   In over eight years, he has appeared in nearly 200 adult scenes; and from 2014- 2016, served as the Vice President of the Adult Performer Advocacy Committee (APAC); a nonprofit which works to improve quality of life, experiences, wages, and safety of current and future adult performers.  Conner gives lectures at organizations and universities around the world on pornography, sexuality, and culture. In 2013 he was the first gay adult performer to speak at MoMA in New York.  His next course is on Banishing the World: Postmodern Philosophy & The Occult on the intersection of critical theory, occult philosophy and postmodernism.

Read more here: “If You’re Against Sex Work, You’re A Bigot“; “What I Want To Know Is Why You Hate Porn Stars“;  “Why Are We Afraid To Talk About Gay Porn“; The Sex Radicals: blog series on sexually radical thinkers – starts here (then follow through with links).

Along with this encomium came the award statue, a flying golden penis:

(#7)

And now some gay porn set in a park restroom. Not quite a rest stop mensroom, but close. The video, posted about on the NuttyButt site, is a Men.com Str8 to Gay episode, with Dustin Tyler and Owen Michaels. The beginning of the encounter, from NuttyButt:

Dustin Tyler and Owen Michaels are two sexy beefy studs out cruising around the park restrooms looking for some action. Dustin Tyler is a straight man who has never bottomed before.  He’s appeared in straight porn, has a very thick cock and is always horny.  Dustin is out cruising the park, hoping he can find some fag to suck his cock.  He’s just horny and he wants to get off and doesn’t care who does it.  Owen Michaels is also out cruising.  Owen is a gay guy who frequents the park looking for anonymous sex.  When Dustin sees Owen going into the public restroom he follows him in hoping for a quick blowjob.  As the guys stand at the urinal pissing, they sneak a [peek] and check out each other’s cocks.

(#8)

The urinal scope-out: Michaels and Tyler

The action then works its way to a flip-fuck. Michaels gets his on the sink in the mensroom; I include a cropped photo of this event (Michaels on the sink, Tyler visible in the mirror) because it’s an illustration of the unlikely sexual arrangements in gay porn: this would be immensely uncomfortable and tricky to bring off in real life, but in gay porn it has the advantage of making both men’s cocks maximally visible for the viewers of the video.

(#9)

P.r. photos of Michaels and Tyler — rear-view shots, so postable on this blog:

(#10)

(#11)

So we started with a break from driving and ended up with hard-core mansex. Facilis descensus Coito.


Seahorse on a stick, GBF, and the Describe-A-Muffin Task

$
0
0

All in the 4/24/17 New Yorker: Beijing street food on the cover, a William Haefeli cartoon, and a Tom Chitty cartoon.

Seahorse on a stick. The cover, “A Taste for Adventure”:

(#1)

From the magazine’s cover story:

“For me, one of the finest things about travelling is trying new and exotic foods,” Cannaday Chapman says, about the inspiration for his cover for the Food & Travel issue. Chapman recently returned from Argentina, where he ate “a whole lot of steaks and the best pork chops I ever had.” He hasn’t visited China yet. “Everyone says they have the best street food,” he says. “My Chinese friend was trying to get me there, describing the seahorses and also scorpions, lots of bugs. I’m told they taste like crab or lobster, which makes sense. Those are just sea bugs.”

Deep-fried fish or other sea creatures on a stick are well-known Beijing street foods: seahorses (said to taste like spicy pork rinds) and small starfish (also visible on the cover) and scorpions too.

Chapman seems to be new to the New Yorker (and is certainly new to this blog). The brief bio on his own website:

(#2)

Cannaday Chapman was born in Huntington, West Virginia and raised in Upstate New York. He attended the School of Visual Arts in New York City on scholarship where he received his BFA in illustration. Cannaday has since been working professionally as an illustrator and showing his work in galleries around the United States and Italy.

Chapman is a prolific illustrator, especially in fashion, especially with young black women as his subjects, as in #1. Three other drawings:

(#3)

A matryoshka weight-loss illustration: a thin man trying to get out of a fat man

(#4)

A drawing of David Bowie, on the occasion of his death

(#5)

A steamy drawing of Prince in Purple Rain, on the occasion of his death (one year ago today)

GBF. A William Haefeli cartoon:


“Sorry. I have no interest in being your gay best friend. Try human resources.” (#6)

(Haefeli is an old acquaintance on this blog. There’s a Page on postings about him here.)

GBF-hood is a relationship between a straight woman and a gay man in which the two parties have the advantages of cross-sex friendship — in particular, insight into the ways and feelings of the other sex (each is a spy into their own gender world for the other) — without the complexities of a sexual relationship and without the potential competitions of same-sex friendships. In the words of the Decider site’s posting on “The 10 Best Gay Best Friends”, from #10, Sammy Gray (Steve Zahn) in Reality Bites, to #1, Tanner Daniels (Michael J. Willett) in G.B.F.:

Every girl needs a gay best friend — or at least that’s what the movies tell us. These guys are typically the sweet, sensitive boys next door who offer guidance and sass to our female protagonists, and they never want to have sex with them. But that’s OK, because they have plenty of other things to offer: companionship, jokes, sometimes even fathering abilities.

And on the film G.B.F., from Wikipedia:

(#7)

G.B.F. (Gay Best Friend) is a 2013 American teen comedy film directed by Darren Stein and produced by School Pictures, Parting Shots Media, and Logolite Entertainment. The film made its first official screening at the 2013 Tribeca Film Festival in April 2013 and got its theatrical release on January 17, 2014 by Vertical Entertainment. G.B.F. focuses on closeted gay high school students Tanner and Brent. When Tanner is outed, he is picked up by the cool girls and he begins to surpass still-closeted Brent in popularity.

The film stars Michael J. Willett, Paul Iacono, Sasha Pieterse, Andrea Bowen, Xosha Roquemore, Molly Tarlov, Evanna Lynch, Joanna “JoJo” Levesque, and Megan Mullally.

… The film received an R rating from the MPAA for “sexual references”. Director Stein responded to the rating by saying, “I always thought of G.B.F. as a PG-13 movie, but we were given an R ‘For Sexual References’ while not having a single F-bomb, hint of nudity or violence in the film. Perhaps the ratings box should more accurately read ‘For Homosexual References’ or ‘Too Many Scenes of Gay Teens Kissing.’ I look forward to a world where queer teens can express their humor and desire in a sweet, fun teen film that doesn’t get tagged with a cautionary R.”

As I remark every few weeks on this blog, many people see same-sex kisses, especially between males, as tantamount to depictions of X-rated sex acts.

The Describe-A-Muffin Task. The Tom Chitty cartoon:


“No, no, that’s a mushroom. These are bigger and more bready.” (#8)

(There’s a Page on this blog with postings about Chitty’s work.)

Chitty’s Earthman is trying to describe muffins to the Alien via perceptible properties of the things: appearance, size, texture, etc. So far he’s only up to discriminating between muffins and mushrooms (which do, after all, have similar shapes). But there’s hard sledding ahead, because words of everyday language are characterized as much by the functions of their denotata in human life as by their perceptible qualities. In the present case, it’s crucial that the denotata of muffin belong to the FOOD category, comprising stuff that is conventionally eaten for nourishment and pleasure.

More specifically, the denotata of muffin belong to the subcategory of FOOD taking in BREADS and CAKES (NOAD2 on the noun muffin: ‘a small domed cake or quick bread made from batter or dough’). And somewhere in this Earthman is going to have to explain that (in the U.S., at any rate) muffins are typically breakfast fare, which will require him to explain the system of meals in our culture.

This might take a little while.


Is that a Paschal Peep in your pouch?

$
0
0

From Chris Hansen on Facebook, a late entry in this year’s Easter Peepstakes: a model who dreamt he played with yellow Peeps in his Aronik swimwear:

(#1)

About the company, its products, its models, its symbol, and its name

But first, two more samples of Aronik Peepsiana: a hunk in pink, and yellow bro-play:

(#2)

(#3)

The company, its products, and its models. From its website:

We are a swimwear brand based in Salt Lake City aimed at providing quality, vibrant, & fashionable swimsuits for men.

Very restrained language, but the company is well-known for its flashy promotional campaigns, featuring amazingly muscular models in brightly colored skimpy tight swimsuits, many of the models sporting significant moose-knuckles (case in point: Yellow PeepsHunk in #1 and #3). The company’s ads absolutely drip muscular homoeroticism, and they’ve been much appreciated by gay websites passionately devoted to the male body.

For instance, the Homotrophy site (a ‘gay sexy blog”) — the name is intended as a portmanteau of homosexual and photography, but it could also be read as a compound homo + trophy ‘trophy for homos’ — which “features mainly new face models, new fashion designers, and new photographers. Nonetheless Homotrophy also features some well-known people as well, mostly photographers”. The site does enthusiastic spreads on Aronik models every now and again.

Then there’s the Gay Body Blog, where you can find a 5/21/14 posting “The Ridiculous Boys Of Aronik Swimwear”:

There I was thinking we had finally gotten over the massive craze of insanely hot tight muscled abs you could grate cheese on. I was looking around out there today and I found this shoot for Aronik Swimwear with some of the most ridiculously handsome and ripped hunks I think I have ever seen in one shoot.

Don’t hold back, guys.

The symbol and the name. So far we have big splashes of homocarnality. In Salt Lake City, which might give you pause, since everything we’ve seen up to now runs right against LDS teachings and practices. Yellow PeepsHunk is decidedly un-Mormon.

But then there’s the bee, the symbol of the Aronik company — and, in association with the beehive (itself a symbol of Mormonism’s pioneer past, signifying industry, harmony, and cooperation), it’s all over Salt Lake City.

Digression on the busy bee: a poetic interlude. The honeybee as a symbol of industry or cooperation or both has a substantial history before Joseph Smith; in particular, it’s served as a figure in Christian moralizing. Notable in this regard: Isaac Watts’s “Against Idleness and Mischief” (1715), which begins:

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!

The Watts text achieved a certain sort of fame in Lewis Carroll’s parody “How Doth the Little Crocodile”, from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865):

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!

And now I’ve parodied them both, and gayed them way up, in an Aronik version:

How do Aronik musclehunks
Improve their solid tails
And flaunt their massive packages
And stroke their treasure trails!

How like the cheerful honeybee,
Who offers men his assets,
He welcomes his admirers in
And sweetly shares his sweat.

By way of illustration: a solid Aronik tail and an elegant Aronik treasure trail:

(#4)

(#5)

Now to the company name. At first, I tried to see the name as a play on ironic, but then it occurred to me to consider Aaronic; if I were LDS, I’d have gotten this one right away. From Wikipedia (with the most relevant passage boldfaced):

The Aaronic priesthood (… also called the priesthood of Aaron or the Levitical priesthood) is the lesser of the two (or sometimes three) orders of priesthood recognized in the Latter Day Saint movement.

… Latter Day Saints believe that John the Baptist conferred the Aaronic priesthood directly upon Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery on May 15, 1829.

… In the LDS Church today, the Aaronic priesthood has taken on a role as a source of training, leadership, and service for adolescent boys and new converts. It is often called a “preparatory priesthood.” Holders of the Aaronic priesthood whom the church considers worthy are advanced to an office in the Melchizedek priesthood as a matter of course around the age of 18, or in the case of adult converts, after approximately a year of active church membership.

The Aaronic priesthood is open only to men and boys, twelve years old or older, who are considered worthy after a personal interview with their bishop. Requirements for worthiness include abstaining from all extra-marital sexual practices, following the Word of Wisdom (a code requiring abstinence from drinking alcohol, smoking, and consumption of coffee and tea), payment of tithes, and attending church services.

To LDS thinking, all male-male sex is an extra-marital sexual practice (even if you are legally married, since the LDS Church does not recognize same-sex marriage). All masturbation (including that accompanying the viewing of homoerotic imagery, like Aronik ads) is sinful as well. So here Aronik is very much not Aaronic. Presumably the choice of the company’s name was deliberately cheeky, rebellious, transgressive, in fact sacrilegious. Even, possibly, meant as ironic.

In line with this blasphemous attitude, the 2017 Aronik swimsuit collection is named the Temple Square Collection. One very un-LDS item from the collection, plus Wikipedia on Temple Square:

(#6)

Temple Square is a 10-acre complex, owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church), in the center of Salt Lake City, Utah. In recent years, the usage of the name has gradually changed to include several other church facilities that are immediately adjacent to Temple Square. Contained within Temple Square are the Salt Lake Temple, Salt Lake Tabernacle, Salt Lake Assembly Hall, the Seagull Monument, and two visitors’ centers.


Saint Phalle

$
0
0

(There will be references to sexual bodies, both male and female, and to mansex. Admittedly, in the context of  art/sculpture and novels, but still… )

Saint Phalle — St. Phallus (with phalle as an alternative to phallus) — would appear to be a reference to, say, Jean Genet as a celebrant of phallic masculinity (though there are other candidates for sainthood in this department), but it is in fact my morning name today, referring to the artist Niki de Saint Phalle. She has been the subject of one previous posting here — from 2/18/15, “Saint Phalle phallic philately”, at first about her condom paintings, then more generally about her as an artist — but now her name has been called to my mind by two recent postings: from 4/24 “A mini-phal” (on mini-phal ‘miniature Phalaenopsis’) and from 4/25 “You can call me Al” (with a note on mini phal ‘miniature phallus’).

To come: more on Genet (and Sartre’s book Saint Genet); on Niki de Saint Phalle and her name; and on de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely as artists, separately and together.

(Note on pronunciation: de Saint Phalle was both French and American, so the Phalle in it has two different pronunciations: Phalle with [al] in French, [æɫ] in American English. The latter puts the name in the same bag as the two clippings phal in my recent postings.)

Jean Genet as Saint Phalle. Previously on this blog, from 8/29/13, “Kissing the rose”, on Genet’s book The Miracle of the Rose, in which anal intercourse figures prominently (along with the image of the anus as a rose), and also his book Querelle de Brest, a hymn to phallic masculinity (with its notoriously phallic poster for the film version, reproduced in that posting). The first book:

(#1)

Most cover art for the book is quite plain, but this has a background with both symbolic — heart-shaped — buttocks and also circular figures that can serve symbolically as either anuses or testicles, so it hits all the Genet sexual bases.

On Sarte’s Saint Genet, from Wikipedia:

(#2)

Saint Genet, Actor and Martyr (French: Saint Genet, comédien et martyr) is a book by the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre about the writer Jean Genet especially on his The Thief’s Journal. It was first published in 1952. Sartre described it as an attempt “to prove that genius is not a gift but the way out that one invents in desperate cases.” Sartre also based his character Goetz in his play The Devil and the Good Lord (1951) on his analysis of Genet’s psychology and morality. Sartre has been credited by David M. Halperin with providing, “a brilliant, subtle, and thoroughgoing study of the unique subjectivity and gender positioning of gay men”

Niki de Saint Phalle. A refresher on the artist, from Wikipedia:

Marie-Agnès de Saint Phalle was born on October 29, 1930 in Neuilly-sur-Seine, Hauts-de-Seine, near Paris. Her father was Count André-Marie Fal de Saint Phalle (1906–1967), a French banker, and her mother was an American, named Jeanne Jacqueline Harper (1908–1980). Marie-Agnès was the second of five children, and her double first cousin was French novelist Thérèse de Saint Phalle (Baroness Jehan de Drouas).

In 1960 she moved in with Swiss artist Jean Tinguely, who was becoming known for his kinetic sculptures; they collaborated on many projects and were married for a time.

On the family name, from a Telegraph obituary of 7/9/10:

Jaques, Marquis de Saint Phalle, who died on June 15 aged 92, was one of the last surviving French fighter pilots who flew for the small but daring Normandie-Niemen squadron of the Free French Air Force against the Luftwaffe on the Russian front.

De Saint Phalle, whose family has lived for centuries in the Burgundian Chateau de Montgoublin and traces its roots back to the 6th-century priest Saint Fal, had fled occupied France for England in the hope of flying Spitfires with the RAF on the Western front.

On the chateau, from French Wikipedia:

Le château de Montgoublin est un château d’agrément, remplaçant un édifice plus ancien sur la commune de Saint-Benin-d’Azy, dans le département de la Nièvre.

Seigneurs (liste non exhaustive)

1417 – Jean Grivel & Hugues de Grossouvre, chevalier

1658 – Charles Michel de Saint-Phalle , seigneur de Villefranche, Montgoublin, épouse le 21 juillet 1693 Marie-Anne Le Tonnelier de Breteuil

s. d. – Joseph-Louis de Saint-Phalle, chevalier, lieutenant-colonel, célibataire sans postérité, laisse le château à son neveu Charles

1699 – Charles de Saint-Phalle, chevalier, marquis

1880 – Philippe Arthur de Saint-Phalle

This material takes Saint Phalle back to Saint Fal; it looks like that at some point there was a Hellenizing respelling, so the family name has nothing to do with penises.

The artists. de Saint Phalle was largely self-taught; she was also bold and extravagant and fearlessly sexual in her art; some discussion in my earlier posting on her. And then Tinguely, from Wikipedia:

Jean Tinguely (22 May 1925 – 30 August 1991) was a Swiss painter and sculptor. He is best known for his sculptural machines or kinetic art, in the Dada tradition; known officially as metamechanics. Tinguely’s art satirized the mindless overproduction of material goods in advanced industrial society.

Born in Fribourg, Tinguely grew up in Basel, but moved to France in 1952 … to pursue a career in art. He belonged to the Parisian avantgarde in the mid-twentieth century

… His best-known work, a self-destroying sculpture titled Homage to New York (1960), only partially self-destructed at the Museum of Modern Art, New York City, although his later work, Study for an End of the World No. 2 (1962), detonated successfully in front of an audience gathered in the desert outside Las Vegas.

He was sexually as well as mechanically playful, as in this sketch:

(#3)

Jean Tinguely: page (59/100) from the portfolio La Vittoria (publ. by Sergio Tosi), 1970 – 1972

Yes, we’re back to penises.

Then de Saint Phalle and Tinguely together, most notably in creating the extraordinary giant sculpture Hon/Elle (in Swedish/French, ‘She’). The two in Paris in 1966, while the sculpture was being planned (photo by Monique Jacot):

(#4)

de Saint Phalle looking glamorous (she worked as a fashion model in her teens), Tinguely looking French (Swiss)

Fans of the art work, which has various internal amenities (including amusements for kids):

(#5)

From the de Saint Phalle website, on “The Biggest & Best Woman in the World” (June 3rd – September 8th, 1966):

50 years ago, HON, Niki de Saint Phalle’s first accessible sculpture, was inaugurated in Sweden at the Moderna Museet of Stockholm under the watchful eye of Pontus Hulten, director of the museum.

In 1966, Moderna Museet was the most innovative art center in Europe, and very likely in the world. Open from noon to 10 pm, accessible to blue collar workers, with a 27-year old visitor on average, it included a restaurant and a garden where you could drink coffee or beer in between two exhibitions. Back then avant-guard concerts, conference talks or Rauschenberg’s happenings were already part of the programmation like we are used to see today, at high profile cultural institutions. Later the same year, Claes Oldenburg would take over the space for his solo exhibition.

Conception of the HON: In a video interview, Pontus Hulten relates the conception process of HON. With a giggle he says : it was quite an experiment. For almost four years he hoped to organize an exhibition created on-site. Therefore, he spontaneously invited three international artists and friends to create an in-situ installation to be shown over the summer: Niki de Saint Phalle (French), Jean Tinguely (Suisse) and Per Olof Ultvedt (Swedish). In the same interview, Pet Olof Ultvedt reports: In 1966 we wanted to make big things, build castles and animate them! Niki was fascinated by Facteur Cheval’s castle in France and she wrote a long letter describing what we would do to build a castle inside the museum, full of life and animation.

On April 28th of 1966, Saint Phalle and Tinguely arrived in Stockholm. Hulten and Ultvedt went to pick them up at the airport and the discussions about what to do started right away. An Opera? A mechanical theater? A rite of passage made of twelve stations with a religious inspiration? Consensus was nowhere to be found among the crew, and after a day of unproductive discussions, doubt and anxiety crept in. The crew was so discouraged about not finding the right idea, they considered the alternative of giving up and flying to Russia!

On the second day, in the car, Hulten threw up the idea of making a giant “nana” similar in type to Niki de Saint Phalle’s earlier ones. All at once they embraced the idea! At the same moment Ultvedt names her: “HON”, SHE in Swedish.

The sculpture soon drew enthusiastic crowds, including many families.

Three Nanas for comparison:

(#6)


Faces follow-up 1: Master Beckford

$
0
0

Following up on my “Faces” posting earlier today (on the Rose Gangloff Curates Portraiture exhibition at Stanford’s Cantor Arts Center), while I pursue three queries on paintings in the show: a progress report on the painting

Benjamin West, “Pinkie” (Master Beckford), c. 1797-99

A photo of the painting, courtesy of the Cantor staff:

(#1)

I was especially taken by the painting because of its formal composition (the lines of organization established by the boy’s gaze, the alignment of his body, and the placement of the two dogs), the voluptuousness of the fabrics in contrast to the rough background, and the apparent allusion to Thomas Lawrence’s 1794 portrait of Sarah Barrett Moulton, known familiarly as “Pinkie” and now invariably paired with Thomas Gainsborough’s 1779 portrait The Blue Boy (but maybe its customary name just alludes to the pink color of the boy’s clothes).

The puzzle is the historical background of the painting. William T. Beckford was one of West’s main patrons (King George III was the other major one), and he was a fabulous eccentric on several fronts, one being that he was a nut about family. He commissioned several portraits of his ancestors from West, but I’ve found no mention of this one, which might be an imagined portrait of Beckford himself as a boy. (Beckford had two daughters but no sons, so the obvious interpretation is out of the question.)

So: down the West / Beckford / Gainsborough rabbit-hole, which will take us to Swarthmore College, the Huntington Library in San Marino CA, architectural follies, same-sex sexual shenanigans in the late 18th century (anticipating Oscar Wilde and Bosie by a hundred years), early Gothic novels and the fashion for the picturesque and grotesque (anticipating Bram Stoker’s Dracula by a hundred years, but Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by only a bit), modern gay porn magazines, and more.

First, notes on the portrait. The boy is dressed in pink (hence the painting’s nickname), which was at the time a masculine color, and his costume is refined and and elegant — in contrast to the background, which is a wild, untamed scene. But the folds of his costume fall negligently, the boy’s legs are folded at ease, and the dogs add to the sense of domestic informality.

The boy’s gaze is forward and direct, into the viewer’s eyes, but his body and legs are at an angle, and the dog on the left makes a strong diagonal cutting across the line of the boy’s gaze but reinforcing the angle of his body, lending a severe formality to the composition that is softened by the angles of the boy’s legs, and, especially, by the other little dog nestled in his master’s lap (making a little domestic cross-diagonal).

Altogether, a complex and pleasing composition, similar in some ways to Gainsborough’s The Blue Boy, but more formal:

(#2)

From Wikipedia:

The Blue Boy (1779) is a full-length portrait in oil by Thomas Gainsborough, now in the Huntington Library, San Marino, California.

Perhaps Gainsborough’s most famous work, it is thought to be a portrait of Jonathan Buttall (1752–1805), the son of a wealthy hardware merchant, although this has never been proven. It is a historical costume study as well as a portrait: the youth in his 17th-century apparel is regarded as Gainsborough’s homage to Anthony van Dyck, and in particular is very close to Van Dyck’s portrait of Charles II as a boy.

West’s #1 shares the nickname “Pinkie” with Thomas Lawrence’s portrait of Sarah Barrett Moulton:

(#3)

From Wikipedia:

Pinkie is the traditional title for a portrait made in 1794 by Thomas Lawrence in the permanent collection of the Huntington Library at San Marino, California where it hangs opposite The Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough. The title now given it by the museum is Sarah Barrett Moulton: Pinkie. These two works are the centerpieces of the institute’s art collection, which specialises in 18th-century English portraiture. The painting is an elegant depiction of Sarah Barrett Moulton, who was about eleven years old when painted. Her direct gaze and the loose, energetic brushwork give the portrait a lively immediacy.

Now, on West, from Wikipedia:

Benjamin West (October 10, 1738 – March 11, 1820) was an Anglo-American history painter around and after the time of the American War of Independence and the Seven Years’ War. He was the second president of the Royal Academy in London, serving from 1792 to 1805 and 1806 to 1820. … He said that “Art is the representation of human beauty, ideally perfect in design, graceful and noble in attitude.

… West was born in Springfield, Pennsylvania, in a house that is now in the borough of Swarthmore on the campus of Swarthmore College, as the tenth child of an innkeeper and his wife. The family later moved to Newtown Square, Pennsylvania, where his father was the proprietor of the Square Tavern, still standing in that town.

West trained as a painter in Pennsylvania, then went on a long “grand tour” of Italy, and:

… In August 1763, West arrived in England, on what he initially intended as a visit on his way back to America. In fact, he never returned to America.

At this point, West connected with William Thomas Beckford. The beginning of the account in “Benjamin West and William Beckford: Some Projects for Fonthill” by Martha Hamilton-Phillips, Metropolitan Museum Journal (Vol. 15 (1980), pp. 157-174):

When William Beckford became the patron of Benjamin West, he was hiring a national institution. Probably the most influential artist of the English and American schools in the last decade of the eighteenth century, West was Historical Painter to George III and second president of the Royal Academy. He was the leading teacher in London and master of that city’s largest studio, in addition to which he negotiated commercial transactions of commodities as diverse as old master pictures and American real estate. Although Beckford may have sought West as his pensioner in the 1790s because of the artist’s popularity at court,’he had a sincere and progressive concern for the patronage of modern English artists; West for his part valued Beckford’s support second only to the friendship of the king. The bulk of Beckford’s commissions from West were undertaken between 1797 and 1799, the most affluent period in the multidimensional career of a man known as “England’s wealthiest son,” and a gifted author, famous bibliophile, art collector, connoisseur, builder, and genealogist.

The Wikipedia account of Beckford, which leaves all the potential sensationalism in:

(#4)

Beckford as depicted by another portraitist of the time, Geeorge Romney (1781)

(#5)

And by still another, Sir Joshua Reynolds (1782)

William Thomas Beckford (1 October 1760 – 2 May 1844) was an English novelist, a profligate and consummately knowledgeable art collector and patron of works of decorative art, a critic, travel writer and sometime politician, reputed at one stage in his life to be the richest commoner in England. His parents were William Beckford and Maria Hamilton, daughter of the Hon. George Hamilton. He was Member of Parliament for Wells from 1784 to 1790, for Hindon from 1790 to 1795 and 1806 to 1820.

He is remembered as the author of the Gothic novel Vathek, the builder of the remarkable lost Fonthill Abbey and Lansdown Tower (“Beckford’s Tower”), Bath, and especially for his art collection. [Gothic fiction, focusing on the picturesque, the grotesque, and the terrifying. begins roughly with Horace Walpole’s 1764 novel The Castle of Otranto – Beckford and Walpole seem to have detested each other, by the way – and embraced, early in the 19th century, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, then the works of Edgar Allan Poe, and in the the late Victorian era, Bram Stoker’s Dracula.]

… On 5 May 1783 Beckford married Lady Margaret Gordon, a daughter of the fourth Earl of Aboyne. However, he was bisexual and after 1784 chose self-exile from British society when his letters to William Courtenay, later 9th Earl of Devon, were intercepted by the boy’s uncle, who advertised the affair in the newspapers. Courtenay was just ten years old on first meeting Beckford, who was eight years older. [The story is roughly parallel to the story of Oscar Wilde and his younger lover Bosie (Lord Alfred Douglas) and Bosie’s father the Marquess of Queensberry.]

For many years Beckford was believed to have conducted a simultaneous affair with his cousin Peter’s wife Louisa Pitt (c.1755–1791). Beckford was discovered (according to a house guest at the time) to be “whipping Courtenay in some posture or another” after finding a letter penned by Courtenay to another lover. Although Beckford was never punished for child molestation, fornication, or attempted buggery, he subsequently chose self-exile to the continent in the company of his long-suffering wife (who died in childbirth aged 24).

… Beckford’s fame, however, rests as much upon his eccentric extravagances as a builder and collector as upon his literary efforts. In undertaking his buildings he managed to dissipate his fortune, which was estimated by his contemporaries to give him an income of £100,000 a year. The loss of his Jamaican sugar plantation to James Beckford Wildman was particularly costly. Only £80,000 of his capital remained at his death.

A less sensational account from Martha Hamilton-Phillips’s Metropolitan Museum piece:

Young William Beckford was born at Fonthill in Wiltshire in 1759, the only legitimate son among many natural children fathered by the alderman [as the elder William Beckham, sometime Lord Mayor of London, was known]. His childhood was spent in the seclusion of Splendens, the palatial mansion at Fonthill his father had had built between 1756 and 1765. His private education included music lessons from Mozart, literary admonitions from his god-father Lord Chatham, and visits to his cousin Sir William Hamilton, the famous diplomat and antiquarian collector in Naples. As a youth of intense intellectual precocity and imaginative sensibilities, William produced his literary masterpiece Vathek, an Arabian romance, in 1781-82, just after he had come of age. Although he was a member of the Church of England, Church and to the mystical saints whose splendid celebrations he attended during his travels through Portugal, Spain, and Italy in 1782-83. Shortly after his marriage in 1783 to Lady Margaret Gordon, daughter of the fourth earl of Aboyne, the hitherto brilliant course of Beckford’s life abruptly changed: in 1784, charges of pederasty were brought against him in connection with his young friend William (“Kitty”) Courtenay, whom he had frequently visited at Powderham Castle. Beckford’s social status and moral respectability were permanently ruined, although the accusations were never proved. He became a recluse and nonconformist obsessed with restoring himself in society… Not inclined to pursue his father’s parliamentary offices, he focused his ambitions upon the building of Fonthill Abbey, designed by James Wyatt in a magnificent neo-Gothic style, with an enormous but ill-fated 276-foot tower and extravagantly landscaped grounds.

… In 1974, Aubrey Menen published Fonthill: A Comedy, a satirical [and wryly funny] portrait of Beckford.

Even without the pederastic hijinks, Beckford was an extraordinary, excessive character.

But back to #1. There are a large number of Beckfords to choose from as the model for this historical portrait: William Thomas Beckford himself, his father William Beckford, his grand-father Peter Beckford, and more on side branches of the family tree. The Cantor’s staff tells me that their files suggest the paintng depicts either William T. Beckford himself or Beckford’s father as a young boy, and was likely part of a larger series of commissioned family portraits. And that’s all we know.

In any case, #1 leads us to #2 (by subject) and #3 (by color). But West’s Master Beckford is still a boy, while Gainsborough’s Blue Boy is a confident young man (with a plumed hat). (There’s also the difference between West’s more formal style and Gainsborough’s (and Lawrence’s) freer, more romantic style.)

Not long after this artistic activity, the English word blue picked up a new use. From OED3 (March 2013), for the adj. blue 10. colloq.:

a. Coarse, obscene; (esp. of a joke, story, film, etc.) having sexual content, pornographic. Cf. blue movie [first cite 1818]
b. Of language: characterized by obscenities; coarse or offensive. Cf earlier blue streak [first cite 1832]

(I have no good source on the mechanisms of this semantic development. But it then puts the color blue into competition with red as the color of sex. The associations of red with fire and thus with heat — high temperature, spiciness, enthusiasm, lustfulness — makes red a natural symbol of sexual desire and sexual activity, but I don’t at the moment see the route for blue.)

This development adds a possible sexual tinge to Blue Boy.

Then, in a separate development, in the U.S. in the 20th century, it seems primarily through clothing marketers, pastel pink came to be associated with girl babies, pastel blue with boys, and then pink came to be seen generally as a feminine color and blue as masculine, which meant that pink things for men came to connote effeminacy (and therefore homosexuality — as a result, some men are still wary about dressing in anything pink) and blue things assertive masculinity — which in combination with blue connoting sex makes blue available as a color for gay macho.

Put that together with Gainsborough’s Blue Boy as a well-known figure of confident young manhood, and I suppose it was inevitable that in an age of increasing sexual freedom, there would appear a magazine for gay men called Blue Boy (or Blueboy). And so it happened. From Wikipedia:

Blueboy, originally written Blue Boy, was a gay pornographic magazine with pictures of men in various states of undress[, published] from 1974 to 2007.

It was published by Donald N. Embinder, a former advertising representative for After Dark, an arts magazine with a substantial gay readership..

… The magazine shares its name with a famous portrait by 18th-century master Thomas Gainsborough, and its inaugural cover was a parody of that painting.

Blueboy began as a glossy gay male magazine that covered the Washington D.C. area, and by volume 2 in 1975 had moved to Miami, Florida. In Miami a more of a glossy soft-core gay magazine developed that targeted the national scene. The magazine quickly became hugely successful, going from 26,000 subscriptions in 1975 to 160,000 subscriptions in 1976. In 1983 Don moved to California and restarted Blueboy there.

Originally Blueboy featured more “softcore” images (e.g., male models were usually shown without erections), fiction, news features, essays and social commentary, and articles on music and entertainment. The publication was largely regarded in the 1980s and in the early 1990s as a gay version of Playboy or Penthouse. Typical articles concerned social climbing, the latest fashions, picking up strangers, television and film reviews, and the secrets of love. It also touched on more pressing issues such as politics and gay rights. For example in the 1970s and 1980s the magazine did stories on Anita Bryant, Harvey Milk, Ed Koch, AIDS and The Reagan Administration.

Beginning in the 1990s, however, with competition from such gay and political publications as Out, MetroSource and Genre, the magazine focused much more on hardcore gay images, and jettisoned most of its non-porn content.

Two issues, from early in its history and from late:

(#6)

(#7)

From Master Beckford to Most Hung Studs Ever…



Appeal to base instinct

$
0
0

The Daily Jocks ad from the 25th, with an appeal to base, or low, instincts (of taking pleasure in viewing the male body); to the basic, or fundamental, instinct of sexual appetite; and ultimately to an appreciation of the fundamental, or basilar, that is, gluteal:

(#1)

On the lexical items involved — among them, the moral adjective base, the adjective basic, the noun fundament, and the adjective basilar — see my discussion in the earlier posting today “base(ly)”. Here, I’m slipping back and forth between locational understandings of these expressions, moral understandings, and anatomical understandings.

(The title also works in to appeal to the (political) base and the movie Basic Instinct, but in a scattershot way.)

The DJ ad is for the Australian brand Teamm8, which turns up here every so often. If you’re interested in the details: the hunky model — I think of him as Basil — is wearing a Tempo Tank (in Navy) and a Track Short (in Gray Marle).

Then there are matters fundamental (of the fundament) or basilar (of the bottom): Teamm8 gluteal delights. Three samples from the current catalogue:

(#2)

The gray marle short, bottom view

(#3)

A Sprint Brief in green, basilar shot

(#4)

An Animal Instinct Brief in tiger, rear view

Basil the Base, at bottom a good guy.


To Be Young, Gay, and Chinese-American

$
0
0

… also gifted, and a poet. That would be Chen Chen, who I became acquainted with through Matthew Zapruder’s poetry column in the NYT Magazine on March 5th, which featured the first poem (“Self-Portrait as So Much Potential”) in Chen’s debut collection When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities. The poet as a grown-up, in a rose garden (in a photo by his partner, Jeff Gilbert):

(#1)

[On the title of this posting: a play on “To Be Young, Gifted and Black”. From Wikipedia on the song:

“To Be Young, Gifted and Black” is a song by Nina Simone with lyrics by Weldon Irvine. It was written in memory of Simone’s late friend Lorraine Hansberry, author of the play A Raisin in the Sun, who had died in 1965 aged 34. The song was originally recorded and released by Simone in 1969, also featuring on her 1970 album Black Gold, and was a Civil Rights Movement anthem.

And from Wikipedia on the play and book:

To Be Young, Gifted and Black: Lorraine Hansberry in her Own Words was written by Lorraine Hansberry, an American writer best known for her 1957 play A Raisin in the Sun, a play that made Hansberry the first black author of a show on Broadway. After her death in 1965, Hansberry’s ex-husband and friend, songwriter and poet Robert Nemiroff, collated her unpublished writings and adapted them into a stage play that first ran from 1968 to 1969 off Broadway. It was then converted into an equally successful autobiography with the same title.]

But on to Chen’s poem. Zapruder’s intro:

In his debut collection, the poet Chen Chen writes from a position of colliding identities: Chinese, American, gay. He has said his poems are “a way for those different experiences to come together, for them to be in the same room.” Here, the poet uses metaphor to investigate his own hopes and familial disappointments. The poem has the feeling of genuine, uneasy discovery, as if only through writing could he come to know who he is and what he feels.
(#2)
(Illustration by R.O. Blechman)

Self-Portrait as So Much Potential

Dreaming of one day being as fearless as a mango.

As friendly as a tomato. Merciless to chin & shirtfront.

Realizing I hate the word “sip.”

But that’s all I do.

I drink. So slowly.

& say I’m tasting it. When I’m just bad at taking in liquid.

I’m no mango or tomato. I’m a rusty yawn in a rumored year. I’m an arctic attic.

Come amble & ampersand in the slippery polar clutter.

I am not the heterosexual neat freak my mother raised me to be.

I am a gay sipper, & my mother has placed what’s left of her hope on my brothers.

She wants them to gulp up the world, spit out solid degrees, responsible
grandchildren ready to gobble.

They will be better than mangoes, my brothers.

Though I have trouble imagining what that could be.

Flying mangoes, perhaps. Flying mango-tomato hybrids. Beautiful sons.

The book, now in print:

(#3)

I then discovered a 4/4/16 PBS NewsHour interview with Chen by Corinne Segal, “Chinese, American and gay”:

The word “stanza” means one thing when it refers to a poem: a snippet of text, a line or several. In Italian, it means “room.”

Poet Chen Chen combines those definitions when he writes, thinking: what should be in the room of this poem?

In his earlier work, he began to answer that question with pieces that explored his own intersecting identities, parts of himself that other people told him could not exist at once.

“I felt like I couldn’t be Chinese and American and gay all at the same time. I felt like the world I was in was telling me that these had to be very separate things,” he said. “Poems were a way for those different experiences to come together, for them to be in the same room.”

At the same time, he was reading Li-Young Lee, Mark Doty and others whose work drew him with its personal intensity. “There was just this emotional intensity and honesty to their work that I was really drawn to as a teenager, and as someone who was struggling with my sexuality and thinking about identity in all sorts of ways — with immigrant parents, thinking about how to come out,” he said.

In his work, Chen said he considers the spectrum of voices, experiences or types of diction that fit within the space of one poem. Expressing that range is important to his work, he said.

“I think about, what am I allowing into this poem? What belongs here in the space of the poem? In the room of the poem what is being left out or denied?” he said. “It’s this way to have different voices or people or experiences fit together in the poem, sometimes in an uncomfortable way, but in a necessary way.”

His poem “How I Became Sagacious” revisits the night that Chen’s parents confronted him about his sexuality after overhearing a phone call with a friend. The poem juxtaposes a traditional, lyrical voice with conversational elements and abstract images to build a dreamlike retelling of the night.

This combination was unexpected, Chen said. “It surprised me as I was writing it,” he said.

Background information:

[Chen was born in Xiamen, China, and grew up in Massachusetts.] His work has previously appeared in two chapbooks and publications such as Poetry, The Massachusetts Review, Best of the Net, and The Best American Poetry. He holds an MFA from Syracuse University and is currently pursuing a PhD in English and Creative Writing at Texas Tech University. He lives in Lubbock, Texas with his partner, Jeff Gilbert. Visit him at chenchenwrites.com.

The poem:

(#4)


Semiotics of dress: the Age of High Gay

$
0
0

From two different sources, trips back to the ’70s and ’80s and the expression of gay identities through dress. From my correspondent RJP, a link to a Tumblr site celebrating Hal Fischer’s Gay Semiotics: A Photographic Study of Visual Coding Among Homosexual Men, 1977; and from Daniel MacKay on Facebook, a link to an Advocate magazine site on “The Men, Mustaches, and Memories of Jim Wigler (101 Photos)” by Christopher Harrity. Then there’s the Levine/Kimmel book Gay Macho: The Life and Death of the Homosexual Clone, exploring the Age of High Gay in the ’70s and ’80s:

(#1)

Three photos from Fisher’s Gay Semiotics:

(#2)

(#3)

(#4)

That’s Basic Gay, Jock, and Leather. Other Street Fashion photos: Forties Trash, Hippie, Uniform.

Harrity’s Jim Wigler site focuses on the Leather category. Three of Wigler’s photos:

(#5)

Men from the San Francisco leather/bdsm subculture from the ’80s on.

Background from the 1998 Levine book (edited and with a introduction by Kimmel: the back cover text, with some additions by me:

Before gay liberation, gay men were usually perceived [in the larger culture] as failed men – “inverts”, men trapped in women’s bodies [and gay men often offered “swish” presentations of self]. The 1970s saw a radical shift in gay male culture, as a male homosexuality emerged that embraced a more traditional masculine ethos. The gay “clone”, a muscle-bound, sexually free, hard-living Marlboro man, appeared in the gay enclaves of major cities, changing forever the face of gay male culture. Gay Macho presents the ethnography of this homosexual clone. Martin P. Levine, a pioneer of the sociological study of homosexuality, was among the first social scientists to map the emergence of a gay community and this new style of gay masculinity. Levine was a participant in as well as an observer of gay culture in the 1970s, and this perspective allowed him to capture the true flavor of what it was like to be a gay man before AIDS. Later chapters, based on Levine’s pathbreaking empirical research, explore some of the epidemiological and social consequences of the AIDS epidemic on this particular substratum of the gay community. Although Levine explicitly rejects pathologizing the gay men afflicted with HIV, his work develops a scathing, feminist-inspired critique of masculinity, whether practiced by gay men or straight men.

A corrective: though swishy types were long the main way gay men were presented in popular culture, among gay men themselves, there was a tradition of high-masculinity presentations of the objects of gay desire, in beefcake magazines. From Wikipedia:

Beefcake magazines were magazines published in North America in the 1930s to 1960s that featured photographs of attractive, muscular young men in athletic poses. While their primary market was gay men, until the 1960s, they were typically presented as being magazines dedicated to encouraging fitness and health: the models were often shown demonstrating exercises.

Because of the conservative and homophobic social culture of the era, and because of censorship laws, gay pornography could not be sold openly. Gay men turned to beefcake magazines, which could be sold in newspaper stands, book stores and pharmacies.

… In December 1945, gay pornography pioneer Bob Mizer founded Athletic Model Guild, or AMG. Mizer’s AMG produced Physique Pictorial, the first all-nude and all-male magazine, and the film Beefcake documents his work and the growth of the Beefcake magazine industry. H. Lynn Womack published magazines such as Manorama, MANual, Fizeek, and Trim and was involved in the U.S. Supreme Court case MANual Enterprises v. Day (1962). From 1964 to 1967, Clark Polak published DRUM magazine.

In the 1960s, the pretense of being about exercise and fitness was dropped as controls on pornography were reduced. By the end of the decade gay pornography became legal, and the market for beefcake magazines collapsed.

This was the subculture in which Tom of Finland developed. When gay macho went mainline in the 1970s, ToF became one of its icons.

Harrity enthusing about Wigler’s photography, as in #5:

Photographer Jim Wigler is a treasure. He was born in Detroit, and as soon as he was able he headed to New York City to begin his photo career with the Nikon his father had bought him.

His New York adventures included a big early photo shoot with Leonard Cohen and a torrid drug- and liquor-fueled affair with a New York City beat cop, Paul Borter.

When that fell apart, Jim beat a hasty retreat to San Francisco just in time to spin out of control completely in 1979.

Then, happily, recovery happened early in 1980. Along with his newfound sobriety, he rekindled his affair with photography, learning everything from scratch sober. He began shooting for all the gay sex magazines there — Drummer, Bear Magazine (Brush Creek Media), Honcho, and many more. His knowledge of the leather scene in San Francisco from the ’80s on is astounding.

… The collection of images here is from his massive Tumblr archive. The images are both sexy and moving. Many of the men are no longer alive, due to both AIDS and old age. What began as sexy photo shoots has become, over the years, a soulful archve of a time both magical and tragic.

You can watch the slideshow on the Advocate site; and Wigler is still at work, with his own Tumblr site here.


Closets

$
0
0

Two recent items focused on gay men in the closet, though in two quite different ways: Dominic Dunne (1925-2009), the subject of a recent biography (Money, Murder, and Dominick Dunne: A Life in Several Acts by Robert Hofler); and James Beard (1903-1985), the subject of a recent documentary film (America’s First Foodie: The Incredible Life of James Beard). Dunne, who died 40 years after Stonewall, nevertheless spent a lifetime cringing in the closet. Beard, who died only 15 years after Stonewall, was an exuberantly gay man to everyone who knew him, but his acquaintances and employers and the media built a protective closet around him, one that he decided to break out of publicly only at the end of his life — so that the world was robbed of an example of a gay man of great talent, living a rich, full life. (Dunne was, to my mind, no kind of model of how to live a life.)

For what it’s worth, neither man was flagrantly flamboyant, but I pegged them both the first time I saw them talking about their lives and work.

The visuals:

(#1)

(#2)

You can watch Dunne in an interview here. Beard you can watch in two versions of the documentary: the Kickstarter video about the documentary (which had its NYC premiere on 4/23/17) and the trailer for the tv version in the PBS American Masters series.

Dominic Dunne. Background from Wikipedia:

Dominick John Dunne (October 29, 1925 [to a wealthy Irish-Catholic family] – August 26, 2009) was an American producer, writer and investigative journalist.

He began his career as a producer in film and television, noted for involvement with the pioneering gay film The Boys in the Band (1970) and the award winning drug film Panic in Needle Park (1971). He turned to writing in the early 1970s. After the 1982 murder of his daughter Dominique, he came to focus on the ways in which wealth and high society interacts with the judicial system. A frequent contributor to Vanity Fair, Dunne also appeared regularly on television discussing crime from the 1980s to the end of his life.

… Dunne’s adventures in Hollywood were described in the documentary film Dominick Dunne: After the Party (2008), directed by Kirsty de Garis and Timothy Jolley. This film documents his successes and tribulations in the entertainment industry. In the film, Dunne reflects on his past as a World War II veteran, falling in love and raising a family, his climb and fall as a Hollywood producer, and his comeback as a writer. In 2002, Director Barry Avrich released an unauthorized documentary on Dunne called Guilty Pleasure. The film was a more candid look at Dunne’s life including those that had issues with his journalistic style. Avrich’s film was released globally and featured Johnnie Cochrane, Griffin Dunne and producer David Brown.

… He was married to Ellen Beatriz Griffin from 1954 to 1969. He was the father of Alexander Dunne and the actors Griffin Dunne and Dominique Dunne, as well as two daughters who died in infancy.

… After his death, Dominick’s son, Griffin Dunne, confirmed his father’s bisexuality and 20-year celibacy, marveling that his father had kept this central part of his personality to himself almost until he died

Dominick and Ellen Beatriz Griffin (1932 – 1997) were married in 1954 and divorced in 1969, 40 years before Dunne died. I don’t know where the 20 years of celibacy came from. But it appears that throughout his life, his sexual life was mostly with men.

On Dunne’s television career, from Wikipedia:

(#3)

Dominick Dunne’s Power, Privilege, and Justice is an American crime TV series that examined real-life cases of crime, passion, and greed involving privileged or famous people. The episodes were shown on truTV (formerly Court TV) and on Star TV in Canada as well as Zone Reality/CBS Reality in Europe and Bio. in Australia. The host of the show was Dominick Dunne. The series started in 2002 and ended in late 2009 with Dunne’s death.

On to the Hofler book, reviewed in the May-June issue of The Gay & Lesbian Review in the piece “Starstruck” by Andrew Holleran.  A note about Holleran, from Wikipedia:

Andrew Holleran is the pseudonym of Eric Garber (born 1944), a novelist, essayist, and short story writer. He is a prominent novelist of post-Stonewall gay literature. He was a member of The Violet Quill, a gay writer’s group that met briefly from 1980-81. The Violet Quill included other prolific gay writers like Edmund White and Felice Picano. Garber, who has historically been very protective of his privacy, uses “Andrew Holleran” as his pseudonym.

From the review:

It would be hard to imagine a gayer life than the one led by Dominick Dunne. Growing up in Hartford (across the street from Katherine Hepburn), he was not only called a “sissy” by his father but beaten with a riding crop, Dunne said, to get the “incipient fairyism” out of him. It was seeing Now, Voyager at sixteen that convinced him that, like Bette Davis, he could find a better life.

His idea of the latter was not confined to just the movie stars he idolized, however. He was a social climber as well, an admitted snob, and a tremendous gossip who, like Truman Capote, used stories about the rich and famous to be accepted. Although he won a Bronze Star during World War II for going back to retrieve a wounded soldier and, after the War, married and had children, he also hired hustlers, picked guys up off the street, did drugs, and used the services of Scotty Bowers (whose memoir Full Service (2012) [detailed] his years of supplying men to closeted movie stars…). He even produced the movie of his close friend Mart Crowley’s groundbreaking and still unsurpassed play about gay life, The Boys in the Band, fell in love with one of its stars, Frederick Coombs, and had sex with the star of The Boys in the Sand, Cal Culver (“one of the most extraordinary afternoons of my life”) for 65 dollars. He loved antiques, fine furniture, expensive clothes, and grand hotels. Inspired by the Ascot scene in My Fair Lady, he gave a Black and White ball when he was living in L.A. that inspired Capote’s more famous version in New York two years later. He took part in The Advocate Experience, a program run by David Goodstein in the 1970s to help gay men feel more at ease with their identity. He produced the films The Panic In Needle Park, Play It As It Lays, and Ash Wednesday.

His longtime companion was a painter named Norman Mabry who was there for him during his final decline. [AZ: I haven’t been able to find out anything more about Mabry.] One of the honorary pallbearers at his funeral was his classmate at Williams College, Stephen Sondheim. And yet, Dunne was in the closet almost all his life, terrified that he would be outed as a homosexual, until he died of bladder cancer at 83 in 2009.

{Entertainment journalist] Robert Hofler, whose other books include The Man Who Invented Rock Hudson [also Sexplosion: From Andy Warhol to A Clockwork Orange, How a Generation of Pop Rebels Broke All the Taboos and the Allan Carr bio Party Animals], has found in the subject of Dominick Dunne several strands that make up a fascinating portrait of American culture from the 1950s to the present. One of them is the closet. Another is Dunne’s (and our) obsession with celebrity. Another is simply the incredible violence in American life, the string of tabloid murders whose subsequent trials (the Menendez brothers, O. J. Simpson, Phil Spector, Michael Skakel) provided Dunne a second career as a reporter for Vanity Fair — after being told by his agent, following Dunne’s hitting bottom in Hollywood, “I can’t get you a picture. Nobody wants you.”

The latter makes Hofler’s book one of those redemption stories dear to American hearts — the man rejected by L.A. society as a drunken failure returns years later to cover the O. J. trial as Vanity Fair’s star columnist, the guest every A-List hostess who once ignored him must now have at her dinner party. Money, Murder, and Dominick Dunne is a tale of resentment and revenge, of enemies who become friends who become enemies of a man with an extraordinary appetite for life and a character that mixed generosity and pettiness, fair-mindedness and bias, snobbery and sympathy for the underdog. It is a record of the four tumultuous decades stretching from the Manson murders (1969) to the second O. J. Simpson trial (2007), the one that finally put him in jail not for the murder of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman but for threatening a man selling Simpson memorabilia in a Las Vegas hotel room. And last but not least, it is the story of Dunne’s relationship with a couple known in L.A. as “the Didions” — Dominick Dunne’s younger brother, the writer John Gregory Dunne, and his famous wife Joan Didion, whose book Slouching Toward Bethlehem supplies the perfect epigraph to this saga of industrial-scale gossip: “Writers are always selling someone out.”

One never knows quite what it was that led the Didions to keep John Gregory Dunne’s older brother at arm’s length. They were not interviewed on that subject and there is no record of their private opinions. But besides a truly malicious sibling rivalry on John’s part, attested to in numerous incidents in this book, one gets the impression that they viewed Dominick as someone who threatened their own climb to the top…

No doubt the Didions felt that they would suffer from social contagion through any association with Dominick, with his embarrassing, drunken, public displays during his bottoming-out period; his gossipy, vulgar celebrity worship throughout his life; and his ornamental gayness, visible to almost everyone — how could you miss it? — but never publicly voiced, though acquaintances were apparently often savage in private. (From the US Queer as Folk character Brian Kinney: “There’s only two kinds of straight people in this world: The ones that hate you to your face… and the ones that hate you behind your back).” — a harsh judgment that, insofar as it’s on the mark, holds whether you’re out or in the closet.)

For obviously gay people like Dunne, the closet represents a social contract: you, the faggot or dyke, won’t acknowledge your sexuality in public, and we, your acquaintainces and colleagues and the media, won’t mention your stigma, so nobody will mention your disgusting secret in public and it will (almost) be as if it never was. You exchange acknowledging (even celebrating) a significant piece of your identity in public for the reward of a certain amount of social acceptance from those who know your secret– plus full social acceptance from those who don’t and would be offended, possibly aggressively so, on finding it out. (I ask, “How could you miss it?”, but a great many people do, despite the evidence.)

James Beard.  The briefest of backgrounds, from Wikipedia:

James Andrew Beard (May 5, 1903 – January 21, 1985) was an American cookbook author, teacher, and television personality. Beard was a champion of American cuisine who taught and mentored generations of professional chefs and food enthusiasts. His legacy lives on in twenty books, other writings and his foundation’s annual James Beard awards in a number of culinary genres.

Beard was a trailblazer, and a giant in his field. From IMDb:

I Love to Eat tv series (1946–1947): Cookbook author James Beard demonstrated recipes for the home audience in the first network cooking show.

(I was in the first grade then, and we didn’t even have a tv set.)

Beard in his kitchen in 1962:

(#4)

On to Frank Bruni’s passionate NYT piece “Food, Sex and Silence” of 4/23/17. As with Holleran, Bruni’s own background should be made clear. From Wikipedia:

Frank Anthony Bruni (born October 31, 1964) is an American journalist and long-time writer for the New York Times. In June 2011, he was named an op-ed columnist for the newspaper, its first openly gay one. [Charles M. Blow, who joined the op-ed register in 2008, came out publicly as bisexual in 2014.] One of his many previous posts for the newspaper was as its chief restaurant critic, from 2004-2009. He is the author of three bestselling books: Born Round, a memoir about his family’s love of food and his own struggles with overeating; Where You Go Is Not Who You’ll Be, about the college admissions mania; and Ambling Into History, about George W. Bush.

From the Times piece, with some crucial bits boldfaced:

James Beard was large. His obituaries told you so. “Portly” was how The Associated Press put it. The Los Angeles Times said that he was nearly 300 pounds at his apogee, though The New York Times clarified that a diet at one point “divested him of some of his heft.”

Nature divested him of his hair. He was bald, as all of those obituaries prominently noted.

He was also gay. Good luck finding a mention of that.

Oh, there were winks. “A lifelong bachelor.” “An Oregon-bred bachelor.” Oregon-bred? Makes him sound like a dairy cow. Or maybe a mushroom.

But there was nothing in those remembrances about his 30-year relationship — at first romantic, then less so — with Gino Cofacci, who was provided for in Beard’s will. Nothing about Beard’s expulsion from Reed College in the 1920s because of his involvements with other men. This newspaper’s obituary simply called him a “college dropout.”

It was published in 1985. The world has changed. And that progress is reflected in a new documentary, “James Beard: America’s First Foodie,” that PBS will air next month as part of its American Masters series.

Like Beard’s obituaries, it shows how he towered over the country’s culinary landscape, pioneering the kind of food television that Julia Child would later do and doling out advice in newspaper columns much like Craig Claiborne’s. He towers still. One of the great honors that a chef can receive is an invitation to cook at Beard House in Greenwich Village, previously his home and now a shrine. The annual Academy Awards of the restaurant world are called the Beards.

The documentary also goes where the obituaries didn’t, describing him as an exuberantly gay man. Anyone who knew him well knew him that way, but during his lifetime, there was typically a difference between what was privately understood and what was publicly said. A cloud hovered over gay people. And if we’re honest about much of America and about many Americans today, that cloud hasn’t entirely dispersed.

The discrepancy between accounts of Beard up until his death and posthumous assessments like “America’s First Foodie” remind me of how often oppression is an act of omission rather than commission: not letting people give voice and vent to much of what moves them and to all of what defines them; not recognizing and honoring that ourselves.

I’m struck, too, by the nature of lies. They’re not just statements. They’re silences that fail to confront bad as well as beautiful things, often with grievous consequences.

We once turned a blind eye to child sexual abuse and rape, so we believed they rarely happened and weren’t adequately on guard. We once didn’t acknowledge the loving, nurturing relationships between two men or two women, so we deemed them freakish and weren’t sufficiently accepting. Our denial and ignorance kept bigotry in business.

One of the many arguments — no, imperatives — for recognizing same-sex marriage is that it’s the only telling of the full truth. Otherwise we erase whole chunks of people’s existences, and that’s as cruel and mistaken “as it would be to leave out someone’s life work or what country they lived in,” said Nathaniel Frank, the author of “Awakening,” a history of the marriage-equality movement that will be published this month.

… Some obituaries of [food writer Craig] Claiborne in 2000 — though not The Times’s — left out his gayness. Some obituaries of the writer Susan Sontag in 2004 failed to mention her romantic relationships with women, including the photographer Annie Leibovitz. Some obituaries of the trailblazing astronaut Sally Ride in 2012 made scant, ambiguous reference to the fact that she was lesbian.

The list goes on. The reasons vary. Maybe a person’s survivors gave signals to obituary writers not to broach this subject. Maybe those writers were in the dark. Maybe they couldn’t ascertain by deadline what the deceased person would have wanted, and they erred on the side of saying nothing, a decision born of courtesy but steeped in prejudice.

All of this adds up to an incomplete picture of our society and who shaped it. It adds up to a lie.

When Beard died at the age of 81, he was working on a memoir in which he planned to make his sexual orientation abundantly clear to his fans. He tape-recorded reminiscences, used in 1990’s “The James Beard Celebration Cookbook,” that included the statement: “By the time I was 7, I knew that I was gay. I think it’s time to talk about that now.”

Why wasn’t it time when his obituary appeared on our front page? I went in search of its writer, Albin Krebs, and quickly stumbled across his own obituary in The Times in 2002.

I noticed that it said nothing about a marriage or children or any romantic life. I noticed that he died, at the age of 73, in Key West, Fla.

I tracked down a few journalists who remembered him, and then his nephew, a 68-year-old judge in Mississippi. My suspicions were confirmed: Krebs, a Mississippi native who served in the Air Force before his long and distinguished newspaper career, was himself gay.

(#5)

And certainly by the last years of his life, as he bobbed in his pool with a glass of whiskey in his hand, “He didn’t give a damn what anybody thought,” the nephew, Robert Krebs, told me, adding that his uncle left much of his estate to an AIDS charity in Key West.

Bruni effectively quotes Queer Eye‘s food and wine guy Ted Allen on the damages of the closet.

Note: Dominic Dunne, Andrew Holleran, James Beard, Albin Krebs, Frank Bruni, Ted Allen, … and me. Seven gay men. Queers: to paraphrase Madge the Manicurist, “You’re soaking in them!” (Get used to it!)


Four Days in May

$
0
0

(There will, eventually, be some references to mansex for Cinco de Mayo, so use your judgment.)

Four occasions that come around every year on the same date: yesterday, the silly Star Wars Day and the sad Kent State Day; today, the pleasantly celebratory National Cartoonists Day and the wildly celebratory Cinco de Mayo (which I’ll focus on in this posting).

Star Wars Day. May the Fourth be with you — posted on yesterday on this blog.

Kent State Day, which appears on my calendar as 4 Dead in Ohio. The iconic photo:

(#1)

The iconic song, which you can listen to here. From Wikipedia:

“Ohio” is a protest song and counterculture anthem written and composed by Neil Young in reaction to the Kent State shootings of May 4, 1970, and performed by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. It was released as a single, backed with Stephen Stills’s “Find the Cost of Freedom”

On the shootings:

The Kent State shootings (also known as the May 4 massacre or the Kent State massacre) were the shootings of unarmed college students protesting the Vietnam War at Kent State University in Kent, Ohio, by members of the Ohio National Guard on May 4, 1970. Twenty-nine guardsmen fired approximately 67 rounds over a period of 13 seconds, killing four students and wounding nine others, one of whom suffered permanent paralysis.

Some of the students who were shot had been protesting the Cambodian Campaign, which President Richard Nixon announced during a television address on April 30. Other students who were shot had been walking nearby or observing the protest from a distance.

There was a significant national response to the shootings: hundreds of universities, colleges, and high schools closed throughout the United States due to a student strike of 4 million students, and the event further affected public opinion, at an already socially contentious time, over the role of the United States in the Vietnam War

Days of grief, terror, and anger. 46 years ago, and I still rage and weep.

National Cartoonists Day. On this blog, it’s essentially always Cartoonists Day: my cartoon postings average out to about one a day.

Cinco de Mayo. On the holiday; on the Mexican national flag (which I’m inordinately fond of); on food for the holiday (which I sometimes think of as Guacamole Day, though Super Bowl Sunday is stiff competition for that title); and on the Lucas gay porn company’s idea of mansex for Cinco de Mayo.

Refresher on the holiday, from Wikipedia:

Cinco de Mayo (Spanish for “Fifth of May”) is a celebration held on May 5. The date is observed to commemorate the Mexican Army’s unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza.

In the United States, Cinco de Mayo has taken on a significance beyond that in Mexico. In the U.S. the date has become associated with the celebration of Mexican-American culture. In Mexico, the commemoration of the battle continues to be mostly ceremonial, such as through military parades.

In the United States, Cinco de Mayo is sometimes mistaken to be Mexico’s Independence Day — the most important national holiday in Mexico — which is celebrated on September 16, commemorating the Cry of Dolores that initiated the war of Mexican independence from Spain.

Festival posters feature iconically Mexican things. A relatively uncrowded one:

(#2)

A sombrero, maracas, and Mexican colors (here green, yellow, and red; elsewhere, green, white, and red). Other possibilities: a saguaro cactus, nopales, chili peppers, a margarita, guitars, a bandit mustache, Mexican fiesta dresses, serapes, a piñata, a skull (representing the Day of the Dead).

The Mexican colors come from the national flag:

(#3)

Like the Italian flag, but with darker green and red, and with the Mexican coat of arms, or seal, in the center. It’s the seal that I adore:

(#4)

Here were are in the desert — the nopales, the snake, and the eagle — as far from the symbolism of Spain as possible. And in fact the flag overall is about as far from the Spanish flag as you can get:

(#5)

So: vexillary independence. But also an appeal to an indigenous, rather than European, origin story. From the GoMexico site:

The Mexican Coat of Arms is taken from an Aztec legend which recounts the way in which the Aztecs came to choose the site where they built their capital city of Tenochtitlan (where Mexico City stands today). The Aztecs, also known as the Mexica…, were a nomadic tribe traveling from the north of the country.

Their leader Tenoch was informed in a dream by the god of war, Huitzilopochtli, that they were to settle in the place where they would find an eagle on a prickly pear cactus holding a serpent. The place where they saw this sight was quite inhospitable – a swampy area in the center of three lakes, but this is where they settled and built the great city of Tenochtitlan.

Food time. It’s a holiday, so of course there’s food. Just as the Cinco de Mayo festival posters tend to deal in images that are Anglo stereotypes of Mexico, so goes the food. From today’s bon appétit spread for Cinco de Mayo, two sets of dishes (these are not BA’s labels):

snacky things and accompaniments: BA’s best guacamole, The 2 Mexican beers to buy today (Dos Equis for light, Negra Modelo for all-round), Fully loaded black bean nachos with red and green salsasMargarita

main dishes: Double-pork carnitas, Tex-Mex-style beef enchiladas, Chorizo breakfast tacos with potato hash and fried eggs, Contramar’s red and greeen grilled snapper (pork, beef, fish, sausage and eggs — missing only a chicken dish)

Cinco de Mayo porn. From the Lucas studios, this ad today:

(#6)

Sombrero, maracas, and two sexmen: one clearly African American (hereafter, black), the other presented as Mexican or Mexican American (otherwise, what would be the point of him in a Cinco de Mayo sale ad?) — for short, Mex. In fact, a pornstar presented as Mex might be in real life any sort of Latino (including Cuban, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Argentine, etc. men, as well as Mex men), or indeed any man of “Mediterranean” appearance (including Italians, Italian Americans, Greeks, Greek Americans, and many others). What’s important is that the actor appear to be (sufficiently) Mex. My impression is that there are not many Chicano gay pornstars; but there’s a great market, among white American consumers of gay porn, for Chicanos as a “type”, so others are pressed into service to play these roles.

The attraction of Mex men is partly a matter a race/ethnicity — brown and black men (men of color) are seen as hyper-sexual, brutish, even dangerous, therefore as intensely, powerfully masculine — and partly a matter of class — men of color are seen as working-class, engaging in highly physical work, or as off-the-books gangbangers, again as intensely, powerfully, masculine as a result.  There is in fact a thriving business of thugporn, framing men of color as thuggish objects of desire, dominating and using white men sexually.

What I would have expected — hoped for? — in a Lucas CdM ad is two Chicanos, or reasonable simulacra of them. There certainly are such things, but instead what we get is black on brown — literally on. as you might have expected from the way the en are positioned in #6. This becomes entirely clear in the hard-core images that accompany #6, assembled into a 4-panel display you can view in an AZBlogX posting “Cinco fuck”, with the panels labeled:

1 TEQUILA…  2 TEQUILA…  3 TEQUILA…  FUCK!

Panel 1: they kiss, Black holding maracas, Brown a sombrero. Panel 2: Pleasurable smiling at one another, hands on each other’s asses; the sombrero is on Black’s head, Brown has a margarita in his hand. Panel 3: Brown on his knees, about to swallow Black’s enormous cock. Panel 4: Black is fucking Brown, in a position designed to maximize our view of both men’s cocks.

Latino and black is in back a common gay porn pairing, an encounter that ends up, much more often than not, with the black guy fucking the Latino (as here). Both men are high-masculinity, but black trumps brown. The encounter allows viewers who enjoy bottoming to identify with a thoroughly masculine bottom.

Notes on race/ethnicity. The US has plenty of Afro-Latinos, people of mixed black and brown heritage, and like others of mixed heritage, they often have trouble negotiating the shoals of identity. I’m not sure how many Afro-Latino men have worked in gay porn; it seems that they are framed as members of either one category or the other.

Then there are Afro-Mexicans. From Wikipedia:

Afro-Mexicans (Spanish: afromexicanos; negros; afrodescendientes) are Mexicans who have a heritage from Sub-Saharan Africa. Also known as Black Mexicans… The history of blacks in Mexico has been lesser known for a number of reasons: their relatively small numbers, regular intermarriage with other ethnic groups, and Mexico’s tradition of defining itself as a “mestizaje” or mixing culture.

… The creation of a national Mexican identity, especially after the Mexican Revolution [1910-1920], emphasized Mexico’s indigenous and European past; it passively eliminated the African ancestors and contributions. Though Mexico had a significant number of African slaves during colonial times, most of the African-descended population were absorbed into the surrounding Mestizo (mixed European/indigenous) and indigenous populations through unions among the groups

So, for the most part, Afro-Mexicans have disappeared into the mix. This in contrast to Irish Mexicans, who have tended to maintain their dual identities. From Wikipedia:

Irish Mexicans (Spanish: Irlandés-mexicano or Hibernomexicano… ) are inhabitants of Mexico that are immigrants from or descendants of immigrants from Ireland. The majority of Irish immigrants to Mexico were Catholic and arrived during the time when all of Ireland was under British rule.

During the colonial era a few ethnic Irish entered Mexico.

… A few Mexican Irish communities existed in Mexican Texas until the Texas Revolution. Many Irish then sided with Catholic Mexico against Protestant pro-U.S. elements. The Batallón de San Patricio was a largely (ethnically) Irish battalion of U.S. troops who deserted and fought alongside the Mexican Army against the United States in the Mexican–American War of 1846 to 1848. In some cases, Irish immigrants or Americans left from California (the Irish Confederate army of Fort Yuma, Arizona during the American Civil War in 1861) and blended into Mexican society instead.

(I have an Irish Mexican acquaintance — first met, as it happens, on St. Patrick’s Day — who has markedly Irish facial features combined with with a notably dark-brown skin tone. Other Irish Mexicans are relatively light-skinned and have red hair. And so on. They tend to be proud of their mixed heritage and of their association with Ireland. In my friend’s case, his Irish ancestors arrived in Mexico as mercenary soldiers — one of several mechanisms that spread Zwickys through much of Europe and then on to the rest of the world, starting with the Napoleonic wars.)

But all this has taken me far afield of the original puzzle: why the Lucas company chose to advertise its Cinco de Mayo sale by having a (putative) Chicano fucked by a black guy. Ok, with maracas and a sombrero, but still a black guy. Is the Chicano a pushy bottom, demonstrating his independence? (Up the Mexicans!) Or what?


Conferring

$
0
0

A Harry Bliss cartoon in the May 15th New Yorker:

(#1)

“Well, there’s your problem right there—you need to sauté the onions in white wine before adding the ginger.”

First, the usual note about what you have to know to understand this cartoon. You have to recognize that the cartoon is set in a baseball stadium during a game (this is fairly easy, though it involves very culture-specific knowledge), and that we’re looking at the catcher and the pitcher conferring on the pitcher’s mound about pitching strategy, a conference in which privacy is often assured by having the two men cover their mouths with their mitts (this is definitely inside-baseball esoterica).

But wait, there’s more.

What makes the cartoon funny? Well, the men aren’t talking about baseball strategy at all. That’s funny in itself. But in fact they’re trading cooking tips, exploring a topic that’s stereotypically the province of women (and gay men) — and this in the extraordinarily high-macho setting of professional baseball. Childcare, fashion, or favorite musicals might have served equally well.

A real-life example of a pitcher’s-mound conference, chosen essentially at random:

(#2)

Texas Rangers starting pitcher Martin Perez (33) and Texas Rangers catcher Bryan Holaday (8) confer during their game against Pittsburgh Pirates at Globe Life Park in Arlington, Texas May 29, 2016. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

The usual method for achieving privacy in a public setting is to withdraw to a private space. As in legal proceedings. From Wikipedia:

In camera … is a legal term that means in private. The same meaning is sometimes expressed in the English equivalent: in chambers. Generally, in-camera describes court cases, parts of it, or process where the public and press are not allowed to observe the procedure or process. In-camera is the opposite of trial in open court where all parties and witnesses testify in a public courtroom, and attorneys publicly present their arguments to the trier of fact.

But privacy in legal proceedings can be achieved by means short of moving to chambers or clearing the court of spectators: a lawyer can confer with a client, for example, by exchanging whispers, perhaps with their mouths concealed by their hands, right out there in court: an island of privacy in a public place. Just as in a conference on the pitcher’s mound.


Homophilatelic days

$
0
0

News relayed by Chris Ambidge on Facebook, the coming, on June 1, of a Canadian stamp honoring same-sex marriage in that country:

The rainbow maple leaf forever!

Ushering in Pride Month.

(Meanwhile, Le mariage égal would be a fine title for a comic opera. We need a gay Mozart and a gay Lorenzo Da Ponte.)



Months and days

$
0
0

Something I’m moderately sure of is that May is National, maybe International, Masturbation Month. All ny sources seem to agree on that. From the current version of Wikipedia:

The first National Masturbation Day was observed May 14, 1995, after sex-positive retailer Good Vibrations declared the day in honor of Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders, who was fired in 1994 by President Bill Clinton for suggesting masturbation be part of the sex education curriculum for students.

International Masturbation Day has since been expanded to include the entire month of May as International Masturbation Month

(Note both vaginal and phallic symbols.)

Already there’s a question: why May 14th, back in 1995? Then things get quickly complex: an earlier version of the Wikipedia article, which I posted about here in 2013, identified Masturbation Day as May 7th (a date apparently selected by Good Vibrations in 1999) in the US, May 28th in some other countries. (Other US sources say May 28th is Masturbation Day.) Meanwhile, the current Wikipedia article says with great assurance that Masturbation Day is July 21st. The Wikipedia sources are in no way authoritative: they just assert dates. Thanks to the earlier Wikipedia article, I have May 7th on my calendar as National Masturbation Day, but now I’m all at sea. The 7th, the 14th, the 28th, or July 21st? And why? Why, in fact, May for the Month?

I’d hoped that something about Jocelyn Elders would provide a clue, but no cheer on that front. Nothing relevant in May (or July, for that matter), according to her Wikipedia article:

Dr. Minnie Joycelyn Elders (born Minnie Lee Jones; August 13, 1933) is an American pediatrician and public health administrator. She was a vice admiral in the Public Health Service Commissioned Corps and the first African American appointed as Surgeon General of the United States. Elders is best known for her frank discussion of her views on controversial issues such as drug legalization and distributing contraception in schools. She was forced to resign in December 1994 amidst controversy as a result of her views. She is currently a professor emerita of pediatrics at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences.

Born in August, fired in December.

There are other notable months. In particular, Black History Month — February because it’s the month that has both Abraham Lincoln’s and Frederick Douglass’s birthdays in it — and LGBT Pride Month — June because it has Stonewall Day in it. Women’s History Month is March, for no reason that I can discern, except that that’s what the National Women’s History Project asked for. There’s nothing wrong with picking a month out of a hat, of course. Or a day, for that matter. I just wonder who gets to do the choosing.

So, for the moment, I’m sticking with May 7th as the Day and May as the Month, and I’ll just refer you to my 2013 posting and a follow-up in 2016 for encouragement to self-pleasuring. The month is only half over!


Fags Before Flags, and other in-your-face t-shirts

$
0
0

(Plain talk about men’s bodies and sexual practices, so use your judgment.)

Thanks to Greg Parkinson for a link to this John Crisvitello t-shirt:

(#1)

The slogan is a send-up of the odious BROS BEFORE HOS, preserving only the rhyming, the street language, and a message about balancing allegiances. My reading of the slogan is that it calls for gay men to generally value bonds to other gay men — fags stand with fags — over the sorts of allegiances expressed in flags: nationality, regional identity, religion, race and ethnicity, political affiliation, etc.

Earlier on this blog, a 3/27/17 posting about (among other things) Michael Kimmel on the slogan  “Bros Before Hos”:

the basic rules of masculinity … have scarcely changed at all for many decades; the first rule is that “masculinity is the relentless repudiation of the feminine”

“Fags Before Flags” is, in contrast, a call for solidarity and tolerance.

Crisvitello’s studio offers a variety of outrageous t-shirts, including several that aren’t WordPressable because of their high phallicity. Three of these are now viewable in a posting on AZBlogX, “Cocktees”. The studio’s descriptions for them:

#1 What do you get when you cross 70’s uncut Tony Danza goodness with punk troll Danzig / DANZAIG !!!!!!!!

#2 Raising Cock Holster Awareness since May 2017

#3 Wish You Were Here [an invitation to being bukkake’d]

In #1 we see a naked cross between actor Tony Danza and punk rocker Glenn Danzig, featuring the composite Danzaig’s cock. On Danzig, from Wikipedia:

(#2)

Glenn Danzig (born Glenn Allen Anzalone, June 23, 1955) is an American singer, songwriter and musician from Lodi, New Jersey. He is the founder of the bands Misfits, Samhain, and Danzig. He owns the Evilive record label as well as Verotik, an adult-oriented comic book publishing company.

Having begun in the mid-1970s, Danzig’s musical career has encompassed a number of genres through the years, including punk rock, heavy metal, industrial, blues and classical music. He has also written songs for other musicians, most notably Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison.

Danzig has made a career out of acting and talking outrageously, so the idea of a hybrid between his persona and Tony Danza’s genial, playful persona is intrinsically comical.

#2 comes right from the headlines, by way of the May 1st episode of CBS’s Late Show With Stephen Colbert, in which Colbert ripped into POTUS and declared, “The only thing your mouth is good for is being Vladimir Putin’s cock holster” — using the compound cock holster ‘mouth (esp. for the purpose of fellatio)’. You can watch the passage here, but note that the YouTube video bleeps the word cock.

Meanwhile, the t-shirt in #2 shows a sizable (simulacrum of an) erect cock jutting out of a gun holster, rather than ramming into it, so that the fellatial interpretation is obscured. Well, art is hard.

Finally, the tank top in #3 has a line drawing of six erect cocks pointed into the central space, which has “wish you were here” in it: we want to shoot our loads on you, bukkake-boy..


Presentation and perception

$
0
0

Two cartoons — a Bizarro and a One Big Happy — in today’s feed about hiw things are presented and how they are perceived. There’s often a gap:

(#1)

(If you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there are 4 in this strip — see this Page.)

(#2)

Gunslinger pics. #1 plays on a fact of on-line hookup culture: people present themselves as they would like to be, so that others will perceive them to be attractive sexual partners. The present themselves as younger, fitter, and better-looking than they are, and if they’re men, especially men seeking men, they’ll exaggerate the size of their dicks. Or in the slightly metaphorized version above, their guns.

I’m tickled by the idea that gunslingers would arrange for show-down gunfights via a cowboy version of Grindr.

In the eye of the beholder. #2 presents a classic issue in aesthetics: how to balance the intentions of the artist (as the artist understands them) and the interpretations of the audience? James presented his drawing as a naked lady (and Ruthie accepted that description), but it’s a little kid’s schematic drawing, so Ruthie’s grandmother doesn’t perceive any nudity. If it’s a dirty picture, it’s a mental dirty picture.


Marco, Marco, Marco

$
0
0

(Men’s underwear, but nothing hard-core.)

The Daily Jocks ad from the 9th, featuring the Marco Marco brand, with my caption:

(#1)

Maximum Marco in boxer briefs.
Middle Marco in briefs.
Minimal Marco in almost nothing,
Beyond the pecs, the abs, and the thighs,
Nothing like one another, but they’re
Totally tight —
All three for Subcomandante Marcos, the
Subcomandante for all of them.

Four things here: the Marco Marco firm, which is trés gai; the play on All for one and one for all (most famously alluding to the motto of the Three Musketeers)); the play on Marcos the plural of the personal name Marco vs. the surname Marcos; and the reference to the Zapatista leader Subcomandante Marcos. Plus a whiff of an allusion to Goldilocks and the Three Bears (Marco Midi is just right). And of course the differences in the three men’s body types.

Marco Marco. A 3/3/17 posting has a section on the Marco brand and L.A. designer Marco Morante (who designs over-the-top stuff for women, drag queens, hot gay men, whatever), where I noted, cautiously, that “Many of his underwear models read as gay”.

One all, all one. Or the reverse. And, yes, a Swiss connection! (Swissies are everywhere.) From Wikipedia:

Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno is a [chiastic] Latin phrase that means “One for all, all for one” in English.

… Switzerland [which is a federation] has no official motto defined in its constitution or legislative documents. The phrase, in its German (Einer für alle, alle für einen), French (un pour tous, tous pour un), Italian (Uno per tutti, tutti per uno) and Romansh (In per tuts, tuts per in) versions, came into widespread use in the 19th century.

One for all, and all for one (Un pour tous, tous pour un; also inverted to All for one, and one for all) is a motto traditionally associated with the titular heroes of the novel The Three Musketeers written by Alexandre Dumas père, first published in 1844.

The three Marcos probably aren’t Swiss, but they are presented as a trio,

The Zapata connection.Instead of going to Marco Polo, I decided to go for someone a bit rougher (ok, and more obscure, at least to most Americans). From Wikipedia:

(#2)

Subcomandante Marcos was the nom de guerre used by Rafael Sebastián Guillén Vicente (born June 19, 1957) who was the leader and primary spokesman of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) during the Chiapas conflict. Marcos has used several other pseudonyms; he referred to himself as Delegate Zero during the 2006 Mexican Presidential Campaign, and in May 2014 announced that Subcommandante Marcos “no longer exists,” adopting the name Subcomandante Galeano instead.

Born in Tampico, Tamaulipas, Marcos earned a degree in sociology and a master’s degree in philosophy from National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), and taught at the Autonomous Metropolitan University (UAM) for several years during the early 1980s. During these years, he became increasingly involved with a guerrilla group known as the National Liberation Forces (FLN), before leaving the university and moving to Chiapas in 1984.

The EZLN was founded in the Lacandon Jungle in 1983, initially functioning as a self-defense unit that was dedicated to protecting Chiapas’ Mayan people from evictions and encroachment on their land. While not Mayan himself, Marcos emerged as the groups leader, and when the EZLN – often referred to as Zapatistas – began their rebellion in January 1, 1994, Marcos served as the Zapatistas’ spokesman.

Known for his trademark ski mask and pipe, and for his charismatic personality, Marcos led the EZLN during the 1994 revolt and the subsequent peace negotiations, during a counter-offensive by the Mexican Army in 1995, and throughout the decades that followed.

Body types and personas. Using several models in a single ad is a way to appeal to a wide variety of potential customers: each customer wants to be that guy in the ad, and he want to do that guy, and he’s also got his own tastes in men. So the company supplies its own brand of guy in almost all of its models — for Marco Marco, the guys have those pecs, amazing abs, sturdy thighs — but then each model is as distinct from the others as possible. Marco Maxi is compact and lean, “ethnic”, with black hair, a mustache, and a light beard; the others are clean-shaven and have blond to brown hair, with bigger bodies than Maxi.

But Midi and Mini have very different hair styles, and very different torsos, though they’re about the same height: Mini has an extraordinarily long torso (from the shoulders to the hipbones), much longer than Midi’s. And Mini has a bunch of tattoos and wears glasses.

A type for them all, each one a type of his own.


“Farley”, the dog said, “get me a slice”

$
0
0

Three cartoons in today’s feed: a Bizarro with a talking dog; a One Big Happy with a slice that OMG might grow into a pizza; and a Zippy riff on Farley Granger and They Live by Night:

(#1)

(If you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there are 4 in this strip — see this Page.)

(#2)

(#3)

Annals of animal communication. #1 is a goofy variant on Wittgenstein’s “If a lion could speak, we could not understand him” (Philosophical Investigations, p.223). Well, you could teach a dog to talk, but then you’d have to live with the dog’s preoccupations, like smelling things; signing chimpanzees were, after all, largely fixated on bananas,

The dangers of a slice. Two things about #2: Ruthie thinks of pizzas as living things, the fruits of the pizza tree (an idea that she combines with a childish fear of swallowing seeds — a bit of childlore that, in my own experience, centered mostly on watermelon seeds, which you were never ever to swallow); and the lexical item slice (in pepperoni slice).

(#4)

(postcard from Zazzle)

From NOAD2 on the noun slice:

a thin, broad piece of food, such as bread, meat, or cake, cut from a larger portion: four slices of bread | potato slices; a single serving of pizza, typically one eighth of a pie: every payday we’d meet at Vinnie’s for a beer and a couple of slices.

The NP a slice, standing on its own, is then understood either as ‘a slice of (something)’, where the whole that the slice is part of is supplied by context; or specifically as ‘a slice of pizza’, even when there’s no pizza in the context — as in the NOAD2 example above, or in I really could go for a slice right now.

On the lam with Farley Granger. The title of #3, “Grangers on the Brain”, is an elaborate pun on the title of one of Farley Granger’s most famous films, “Strangers on a Train” (1951); on the movie, see my 12/31/15 posting “Zippy’s Eve”. From the Wikipedia article:

The film has … been the inspiration for … film and television projects with similar themes of criss-cross murder, often treated comically. [with a long list]

On Granger, from Wikipedia:

(#5)

FG posing in a swimsuit

Farley Earle Granger Jr. (July 1, 1925 [in San Jose CA] – March 27, 2011) was an American actor, best known for his two collaborations with director Alfred Hitchcock; Rope in 1948 and Strangers on a Train in 1951.

Granger was first noticed in a small stage production in Hollywood by a Goldwyn casting director, and given a significant role in The North Star, a controversial film praising the Soviet Union at the height of World War II, but later condemned for its political bias. Another war film, The Purple Heart, followed, before Granger’s naval service in Honolulu, in a unit that arranged troop entertainment in the Pacific. Here he made useful contacts, including Bob Hope, Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth. It was also where he began exploring his bisexuality, which he said he never felt any need to conceal.

His bisexuality (manifested in a number of affairs with famous people of both sexes), was covered in juicy detail in his autobiography, written with “his longtime romantic partner Robert Calhoun” (from the NYT obituary, discussed in my 3/31/11 posting “partners”):

(#6)

The 1948 film They Live by Night came between The Purple Heart and Rope. From Wikipedia:

(#7)

They Live by Night is a 1948 American film noir, based on Edward Anderson’s Depression era novel Thieves Like Us. The film was directed by Nicholas Ray (his first feature film) and starred Farley Granger as “Bowie” Bowers and Cathy O’Donnell as “Keechie” Mobley.

The movie is the prototype for the “couple on the run” genre, and is generally seen as the forerunner to the movie Bonnie and Clyde. Robert Altman directed a version using the original title of the novel, Thieves Like Us (1974).

 


Viewing all 1188 articles
Browse latest View live