New York, One Gay Date At A Time

Cute Kid Buys Paper

Okay, I don't usually blog about Gawker, yet I can't resist. How often does New York nuttiness simply blow me away.

So this cute kid just bought the New York Observer, what? Is he going to use the paper as a NYU class project. He did send out a heartfelt email to staff members, yet it sounded more like a guy that just got his first Off Broadway bit part. Not that of an owner introducing himself to his new minions.

I can only imagine the decision making process, on the other hand this beats having to search for a job when finally graduating. Mind you, having 10 million in disposable income blows me away, that's what this is after all a new toy for a rich kid. I wonder if I'm being harsh, yet I do hope he succeeds because I'll always have a place in my heart for the Observer the paper that gave us the joys of Sex and the City.

I mean, I know wealthy people happen, yet this is even nutty by my unshockable standards.

For all you wondering, Gawker is trying to find out his girlfriends name, so yes, he does bat for the other team, yet if you manage to find him on craigslist (blush) you know what to do.

The Play’s the Thing

I’ve been neglecting the blog only because I’ve been busy doing the final play edits.

I want to invite you wonderful readers to the Three Tables Staged Reading.

When
Tuesday August 8th at 7:30

Where
Midtown Manhattan

Get an invite
Send me an email or leave a comment for an invite.

I have three to four invites, for some lucky readers. It’s on a first come first serve basis; you must be in New York to receive your invitation. It’s going to be fun and you get to witness the birth of a new performance, you can even heckle a bit. But the initial feedback has been very good and I’m ready to open it up to a live audience.

Meeting Nixon

That is, Cynthia Nixon, I sort of made a fool out of myself. I didn’t know what to do, but say hi. Mind you celebrities bore me (until I become one, of course). They bore me because I never have anything in common with them, they are people, I know their image (Celeb recognition), I’ve gotten better with that, but beyond the character they play, I can never truly know them. In any case.

Back in the day; when I was an hotelier. I’ve escorted a very inflated Pamela Anderson to her room and was trapped in an elevator with Ed Harris; I witnessed the multiple personality of Rosanne and managed to survive. Celebs mostly, quite often do nothing to my libido. I’ve seen them as weary travelers checking in.

I’m no good at small talk, let alone starting a conversation with most people, yes this is me being self deprecating, so actually meeting celebs ... not my shinning moment.

Finally, after a few drinks, I summed up the courage. You see I like Cynthia Nixon, I loved her character in Sex in the City and also love Warm Springs on HBO, here versatility as an actress rocks. In any case, I’d actually like to talk to her; in my mind having a real conversation with her would be great. Yet that was the fantasy land of Alex.

What really happened, after I got the courage to part the lesbians that surrounded here, apparently they travel in packs just like gay boys. I went up to her, said “I love your work” she said “thank you” with a smile that made me feel like a puppy dog that just dragged in a bluebird. I sulked away and had another cocktail.

She was gracious, besides what was I going to expect? I always think it’s odd to think that someone knows someone else from a flickering image on a fiber optic screen.

Then I had my party epiphany, maybe therapy is actually working for me. To some degree or another, I will be the fabulous one at the party, or not. Mostly not. There are different degrees of mingling and worlds within New York. Everyone at the party, they exist like a Mondrian painting, more like a skeleton then a real person. They’re chilling, sucking on cocktails, trying to make the most out of their world.

The party was at Home to benefit Hourglass, a theater production company, I noticed that the Greenwell Foundation, a foundation who I've been in contact with gave them a grant to support the production of Trouble in Paradise, I've talked to them and they said they don't sponsor individual artists, yet they will consider a grant to produce my work from a production company that they liked. I don't know weather to be bitter or hopeful. In any case....

Once again I have to thank Chip for inviting me to a party I actually wanted to go to. Thanks Chip.

Madame the Puppet at the Cutting Room

I got an email a while back from Chip at Spin Cycle, he offered up a show, Madame's return. I blogged about the puppet in the bar a while ago, after seeing her for the first time at the Townhouse. Honestly, the life of this puppet and her popularity in small circles has quite astounded me.

Chip said "Madame was not buried with Wayland, and the puppet you saw is the original Madame.  The Estate of Wayland Flowers had been auditioning puppeteers for a long while to bring Madame back (as well as other Wayland characters like Crazy Mary), and finally decided on Joe Kovacs.  He was told to take her out occasionally to clubs and bars, never announced, to get used to being Madame's partner more fully, which lasted about two years.  Two months ago Madame & Joe did an invitation-only show for friends & family to hone the act, and they're coming to the Cutting Room for public-invited workshops this month --- Madame's first public performances in 18 years."

In any case. I was hoping for at least one joke about how she clawed her way out of Wayland's coffin, unfortunately that didn't happen. Most of the jests did seem rehearsed, yet I understand the nature of a workshop.

I really enjoyed the bawdy puppet, it's going to be a great act. After all a puppet can say lots of things that real people can't, like an honest confession and meditation about a good vibrator and true cunnilingus.

The costumes, especially in the third act were really great, I've never seen a puppet in such an elaborate ruby red ball gown before. To sum up the evening, I recommend you go see it, for all you devoted to Madame and those soon to be enamored by the puppets charm.

I look forward to hearing more about Madame and other Spin Cycle shows, events etc. Chip might even get me to come the East Village more often, something I've been meaning to do for a while.

They also had bingo after, unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to go afterward but it seemed like lots of fun.

The Devil Wears Prada

I finally saw the movie, it was divine. The performances of Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway blew me away; Streep gave new life to one of the mistresses of New York. I didn’t care much for the script or the plot twists, yet found myself strangely identifying with life in New York, as someone trying to “make it” along with the loneliness of being at the top, the loneliness of cocktail party wrangling.

I’ve felt the inane dislike of powerful rivals. The attention to reality actually struck me. Back when I worked at Conde Naste, dined in they’re uber prestigious cafeteria with million dollar panes of curved glass sculpted by the ever marvelous Frank Gehry. The sleek loneliness of the modern cafeteria with the pitter patter of D&G hailing the arrival of the Vogue people, everyone dresses differently actually, according to the magazine they work for.

In passing someone mentioned, there goes Anna Wintour and I turn around to say. Who?

The girls at Vogue never ate; actually they had no money to eat when I was there, because they spent everything on the latest handbag. We had put out sample cups so people could try the food before taking a scoop. Those cups needed to be removed, because very quickly these Vogue girls were having their lunch from those sample cups.

When I worked for a temp agency later, I overheard one of the recruiter’s tell a job applicant to get a hold of a Louis Vuitton handbag for the interview.

I’ve started myself, to feel the inherent cocktail party loneliness, as I’ve been mingling around Hells Kitchen, going out to drink. Sometimes it’s fun and amazing. Sometimes, I feel like people simply want a trophy.

This feeling will never go away, for as long as I’m in the city, which'll no doubt be for a while.

Yet unlike Anne Hathaway in the movie, I wish I had a boyfriend to go home to, that would be nice some day.

Malan Breton Speaks

Malan has reached out to this lowly blogger, I wonder how he found the post actually. This is what he had to say.

"Alex, I am saddened that you feel it ok to paint this terrible portrait of me, I never said that to you, and I was quite succesful as a model, I have the tears to prove it, as well I adored you as a friend and have asked about you since , I remember going to events with you and thinking how amazing you were as a person, and so hot. I do sew and have produced every piece of my own work, I am so sorry you feel it ok to say these things, but I wish you all the best.
best wishes,
Malan
ps wow, I never thought someone I care about would ever do that, the last time I saw you was not at show , it was at the party in chinatown, and we laughed and had a great time, and I remember laughing with you and we talked about everything, thanks a lot for saying that about me, wow, well I wish you the best, I always have."

Notice the post script to the email. In any case. My reply.

"you did say that and despite your recollection of events, you never treated me nicely, hardly ever talked to me. I remember that event distinctly. Yet what can I say. You're more then welcome to leave this coment on my blog, it is not something I would delete."

Yes, I will admit that party in chinatown comes to memory, yet I remeber he didn't talk to me. I also find it odd that somene who cares about me would go years without giving me a call. In any case, I have been moved to share this email with the world. I hope Malan has learned from his past and finds fewer tears in his time as a fashion designer then his time as a model.

Project Runway – Malan Breton ... UGH

So, very much, against my better efforts, I have not been able to hold back from Blogging about Project Runway. It’s just impossible for me.

Malan is vapid, pointless and downright mean, I don’t like him at all. I don’t say this because I’ve seen the show or the series. I know this from personal experience and I am using this very public forum to say, YOU SUCK.

First of all. He never really did well as a model. This was when I knew him, ages ago, I went to a party at Show, invited by a mutual friend, I tried talking to Mr. Malan (Ms. Thang). He actually told me, straight to my face. “You’re boring, I’m walking over there.”

He’s the gay man, I hope never to meet. Yet I have, to my chagrin. First I doubt his ability to sew, I know he can’t, if he can, it’s because he’s hired out his sewing. I just know he doesn’t like to work, he never has, instead he’s hoped to rest on his high-fluting ability to make high level friendships.

He has no creative bone in his body. But as far as reality TV goes, he’s the next Santino. I wouldn't be suprised if he's the one Tim Gunn boots off the show.

I don’t like him at all. It has been a long time since I’ve had such an adverse reaction to seeing someone I know on TV. Never with this much passion.

I need vodka. I hope he gets booted off quickly.

Marc Bouwer - the party

I went to Marc Bouwer’s B-Day party this past weekend. It was very good to see him and I’m glad he’s doing so well. I drank a lot and was in a room full of hot men, I always feel a bit intimidated and want to hit the gym after. I never feel like my breast are big enough.

In any case. Candis Cayne performed in a glittering Marc Bouwer dress and put on a show, not only for the bar but for the street at large, a few times she rushed into 12th Avenue and stopped traffic, another she ran after a BMW, hoping to catch it, probably startling the owner, a Trany running after a car, oh my.

She also did some really amazing numbers and a Botox bit, where she owned up to having it done in the super grand Peninsula hotel. Just like any New Yorker should.

This week New York Magazine highlights the search for happiness, I would say, combining the two, Marc Bouwer’s birthday party, drinking, bar hoping and just being in this city, I have to lighten up a bit.

I think my own happiness and search for happiness has much to do, as Gawker pointed out. Trying to meet the cost of living in New York, while actually loosening up a bit, there I said it, that’s going to be my new week resolution. Chilling out and taking it one step at a time, accepting that some days, I’ll have a damn good time; some will be out right bad. Taking everything in stride, obviously, this is easier said then done. And making enough to meet the cost of living in New York, now that will come another day, maybe when I get my play produced or a literary agent, maybe that's what I should blog about. "Will sleep with literary agent." Okay, maybe not, then again, are they cute, once again, probably, not. We'll ponder this in a few days.

Court Says No to Gay Marriage

Today, the high court of New York ruled that gay people do not have the right to marry.

"New York's top court still hates those fags: sadly, in a 4 to 2 ruling, they've decided that same-sex couples have no constitutional right to marry. The court also ruled unanimously that the state legislature is constitutionally permitted to continue operating under the delusion that they are living in fifties-era Texas.

But? At least ass-fucking is still legal. You're just not going to get a tax break for it. "
[via Gawker]

A friend emailed me that the Empire State Pride Agenda is scheduling a rally.

New York City
Start time: 6:00pm
Location: Sheridan Square (West 4th Street and 7th Ave., Manhattan)
Rain Location: LGBT Community Center, 208 West 13th Street
[via Pride Agenda]

I'm going to try and make it. Everyone that reads my blog knows how I feel about this.

The Surly Bartender

I’m over mean bartenders. Really, clubs, dance clubs that is, have them because those bartenders put up with abuse and overly drunk, overly groping drunk well tossed, well inebriated, let’s just say plastered people.

I was at Libation a few nights ago, at a party upstairs and for some inexplicable reason the bartender didn’t want to serve me. It was odd. I tipped her two dollars for my first drink. I waited patiently; I know she was busy, yet on the second and third round of ordering. She acknowledged me then went away, acknowledges me, then goes away; it got to the point where I went away.

Yet at a neighborhood bar, there’s no real need for surliness. I like being a regular, I like it when a bartender knows my drink and I tip appropriately. I like being greeted by a smiling face and not someone who just wants to take my money and run, I think its part of the vibe. So when this happens at one of my local hang outs I get a tad bit annoyed, I also know that bartender isn’t being rude to only, little old me. Yet my friends as well. There are some days of the week; we won’t go to a certain bar, because we know a certain bartender is on.

I also don’t know why bartenders leave my tip money on the bar, I’d much rather they take it, instead of having it face me, the money simply mounting as I keep track of my drinks. In any case, such is barhopping and drinking in New York.

Okay, I’m done with this mindless rant.