The quickly deliquescing and sadly aging and losing it Mr. Smith reverts to his Catholic youth — he’s confessing. He’ll do anything to get in a dark, curtained booth with an older, well-dressed man.
#Confession: I haven’t seen Frozen. I’m probably never going to see Frozen. I just don’t go to movies that much. Too many people. Too much money. I don’t like popcorn that much. And though I sometimes miss doing theatre, teaching theatre, directing theatre, the ubiquity of Idina Menzel’s rendition of Frozen‘s power ballad has given me not a few moments of gratitude that I am no longer sitting at a casting table where I would – I am 5000000000% certain – I would hear every other semi-talented to untalented teen girl and gay boy offering up their distorted and caterwauled sixteen bars of Let It Go. Even one of my pretend married boyfriends, Jeremy Jordan, has had at it. Click here to visit the EW site for his version. Or, just look at him half-naked in this picture — which is way more fun than hearing this song again — and wait for the film version of Jason Robert Brown’s The Last 5 Years, in which Mr. Jordan stars alongside Anna Kendrick, to come out sometime this year. He’s hot, right? And he sings. And he is, alas, too straight and no doubt too young for me – or, rather, I would be too old for him, which leads me to . . .
#Confession: This is my birthday month and I am going to be a little bit older than I usually admit. Or, a few decades younger than I used to tell people I was when they asked, my theory back then, in those olden (but much younger days) being that age was just a meaningless number, especially to the pre-teens and teens asking me my age, and if I told them I was in my seventies when I clearly was not, maybe it would shake up their assumptions about the world and make them question the beliefs they’d been fed by the culture — which was sort of my job. Now, however, I would NEVER tell someone I was 73, for fear they would not be abashed and disbelieving when I said it. In my never-ending quest to make myself feel better about how I look (and don’t look) and the cultural notions of what it is to be a certain age, I give you Christopher Meloni, who, yesterday, turned 53. Not that I am turning 53, but hey little gayboys with your “no one over 30” mindset; HERE IS 53. Put that in your Twinkie-pipe and suck it. Or, smoke it. Or, whatever. I’m 73 – give me a break. My brain is just worn to shards which leads to . . .
#Confession: I’m too overwhelmed by actual news to comment on any of it, which is why I am trolling around finding ways to post pictures of half-naked celebrity men. The shooting at Fort Hood and the signing into law in Mississippi a “right to hate and discriminate and cite god as reason” law is all just too un-fucking-believable for me to bear. I have — as I’ve said — too much on my mind, which has shrunken, that organ shrinkage happens with age you see — things change and morph in unexpected and frightening ways, which leads me to . . .
#Confession: I’m freaked out about my birthday. I haven’t the psychological nor medical terminology to explain this, but, in my mind, since somewhere about ten years ago when people I loved started dying, time has turned into one long day. When someone brings up an event I think happened recently and they tell me it was six years ago, I can’t place it, I can’t comprehend it, I can’t quite stay located in time. Which, I’m okay with, but, the thing is, if I live much longer, well, the keeping track has become an issue. And, also, I don’t remember my latest address, let alone your name, so please, don’t be insulted – my brain is just overloaded. I am REALLY ready to go, as in, the BIG go. Birthdays . . . ugh . . . but speaking of them, besides sharing a birthday month with Mr. Meloni, I share the actual day with Helene Hanff which leads me to . . .
#Confession: I write in my books. I went to bed last night with four of them, and I’ve written in two of them so far. I’ve done this for decades, ever since Helene Hanff [CLICK HERE FOR HER BIO/BACKLIST – NO REALLY – CLICK HERE GODDAMMIT – AND READ ALL HER BOOKS NOW!] in one of her books made the same confession. P.S. If you consider yourself a reader and you have NOT read Helen Hanff’s books — her ENTIRE list — you are NOT yet in the club. And I include Q’s Legacy in that list and I insist that you — as did I — spend ages looking for used and thrift copies of all the books therein she mentions, including Q’s. When I die — which, as mentioned in the previous paragraph is going to be not too long from now — some book-junkie can have a FIELD day in my collection. Did I mention that Helene and I have the same birthday? She died six days before she would have been 81. On April 9, 1997. I’m ready . . . I’m close enough to 81 and it’s almost April 9th and I have read Helene’s books and Q’s as well.
As Jeremy Jordan sang earlier in this post . . . LET IT GO. Which leads me to . . .
#Confession: I wanted to believe that my April 1 almost HALVING of hits and views had to do with people staying away from computers/on-line shit on April 1 because of all the bogus postings. Alas, my hits were also abysmal on April 2 – and I even included almost naked men and big dick hashtagging. I guess the all too brief popularity of Charlie has come to an end – again. And, like I said, okay, I AM READY TO GO.