What Accounts For Things, I Wonder!!!!!!!

Some of you who just read my previous post may wonder how on earth I ever got this way. At this point in my middle age it is certainly unfashionable to blame things on one's parents--hell by the time we reach our forties we have hopefully moved beyond that, as, parents or not, we see through others of our own generation, what our parents had to go through and that it was not so easy. And while my parents did so many right things--guiding me to "The Wizard Of Oz", darlings (an act they came later to regret), keeping me out of Catholic school, and instilling in me the manners of a Miss Porter's graduate, there was just one tiny thing involving my education on which they went amiss.

Now, you have to understand, in the suburbia--WHITE suburubia, honey--of another era, there were three elementary schools in the town I grew up. The one that was actually in our district was considered the best by far, and all the socially prominent families sent their children there. So for kindegarten, I was rightly enrolled there. BUT, being the brillilant, unconventional child I already was, showing evidence of the adult I was later to become, kindegarten and I did not take kindly to each other, resulting in my being held back a year. At the age of 6, this meant nothing to me, and for reasons I was then too young to understand, my parents took it pretty hard. Me, I just blithely went about my summer, playing, not really thinking about school, but knowing full well that come Fall I would be back in the same school in the same classroom, with a new set of classmates. Big deal.

About three weeks before school started, I was informed that I would NOT be returning to the school I had been to the year before, with which I was already familiar. I was being sent to what turned out to be the worst of the three schools in the community, a fact I discovered on the very first day, when the teacher clearly demonstrated that she was a witch who should not be dealing with children, still bears the distinction of being the ONLY teacher who ever made me cry, and clearly HATED what she was doing!!!! How much did I learn? Nothing!!!! How much did I know? A lot more than my classmates, who even at this early age my snob instincts could recognize as being intellectually and socio-economically inferior to me. For this, I disovered was where the dumb children from the Wrong Side of the Tracks were sent, like Linda Johnson, whose mother was a waitress, for God's sake, and who to this day thinks (Linda, I mean, that food from New Jersey is the greatest! I mean, what the hell is wrong with these people). But what could you expect of people who lived in the section of town known as Goat Alley, where blue collar workers and waitresses lived, and whose daughters were gulping pencillin by the time they reached puberty. THIS is what my parents saw fit to expose me to???? Just because kindegarten did not work out the first time? Who were they punishing--me or themselves????

It turned out it felt more like me being punished, because in First Grade my teacher hated the fact that I could read better than anyone in the class, wanted homework, and berated me when I attempted my version of cursive writing, thinking she would understand and then correctly try to teach me. The rest of my years were this way--teachers who wanted to keep me at a certain level, wanting me to read juvenalia, when I was ready for Dickens and Melville!!!
Yes, darlings!!!!!

And the result of all this!!!! Social stigmatization! Because of where I was sent, by the time all the school convened in Junior High, I was placed below where I should have been, denied Algebra in the 8th Grade even though I had the grades, with the same thing happening in high school with Honor Society, though I was a whirlwind on the paper, in the choir and onstage!!!!!
Not even encouraged to take AP English, where I showed them up in college by being omitted from Freshman English after only 3 weeks. And not having needed to take it at all!!!!! So fuck you to the first twelve years!!!!!!!

The end result of course was low self-esteem which permeated into career marginality simply because my parents made the mistake of sending me to the wrong school. But chickens come home to roost, bitches, and boy this bitch is getting back at things now!!!! How do you like THEM apples--Mrs. Compton, Mrs, Cohen, Mrs. Beinhower, Mrs. Brodsky, Mrs. Behmer, Goat Alley, and Linda Johnson?????

Now, don't we feel better, girls! You bet!

Back to being decent and fine and PURE like Amy Adams!!!!!!

Girls, I SAW IT, And Let Me Tell You.....

....it was FABULOUS! I am, of course, talking about the film "Julie and Julia", which, in spite of my culinary failings of late, and despite it being a Friday workday afternoon, was PACKED for the 4PM screening, I manged to get to looking my most Amy Adamish!!!!

I mean, my mind nearly EXPLODED!!!!! Those gorgeous art direction shots of Paris, the dresses, the SO RIGHT lighting and atmosphere of shabby Queens. And then there is MERYL and AMY and close-ups not only of THEM but all this DELICIOUS FOOD!!!!!! Sweeties, it is almost TOO MUCH!!!!!

But I will see it again and Again and AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, MERYL goes beyond even MERYL!!!!! She surprised even ME with a performance that is so touching and engaging, and remarkably NEVER veers over into parody. Darling, I am tellling you, you will not mess with MERYL at the kitchen range!!!!!!

Nor with AMY, who is so radiant and CAPTIVATING, just like we all want to be, girls!
I swear, I just wanted to cuddle her, and hell, honey, I"m not even straight! I LOVED her black panties, though, of course, I would have liked to have seen them on Chris Messina, who plays her husband that AMY comes home to, which is something I sure as hell do not come home to!!!!
But, darlings, those scenes of AMY in her cubicle, arguing on the phone with idiots, trudiging home on the #7 train in the dark to Queens, where no one has even heard of Meryl Streep, Julia Child, or Amy Adams, and crashing on the couch--DARLINGS, THIS IS MY LIFE!!!!!!! Yes, girls, as fabulous as I may be this is what it is really like!

And to think Nora Ephron, whose junk I cannot stomach, directed this! Honey, I think MERYL and AMY just said, "Step aside, Norm, and WE will take over!" and took it from there.
It certainly seems that way.

Girls, MERYL and AMY have done more for me about getting into the kitchen than anyone. This could be my last chance to find a husband. Hell, I have tried everything else, I might as well cook!

So, thank you, "Julie and Julia". You and MERYL and AMY and Julie Powell have been a source of inspiration!!!!!!!

Girls. Hope I Surprise Myself!!!!!

The reason I need a MAN, darlings, is not just for rough, masculine sex. I need a man who is more adept mechanically than moi, which would include just about everyone out there. My idea of being Butch is to fix a door knob. So I was quite surprised when I rerecorded my phone message, called, and it worked. Let us hope that continues, it could be an omen to my future dream of being Amy Adams/Julie Powell.

Let's talk about issues, darling, which I was with someone elsewhere. The other night at my twelve step meeting this gay qualifier went on about how fortunate he was to be able to pass for straight. I mean, PUH-LEEEEEEEEEEEEZE!!!!!!!!!!! What about those of us who were not so fortuante? How do you think we feel? Why do you think we camp it up with "girls," and "darling" and the like; it is our way of saying fuck you to the straight world and these closeted Bozos. Honey, if you can't stand the heat, stay in the closet! I didn't see what passing for straight did for this guy, but honey, I can tell you NOT passing has made me the brilliant, creative, FABULOUS person that I AM, girls! At least I would know what to say to Amy Adams--if I met her--we could talk about hair and movies and designers! These Bozos have NO
CLUE! So go back to the Hardy Boys, guys! Or better yet, read The Hardly Boys!!!!!!!

Girls, Today We Are A Domestic Goddess!!!!!

Today is "Julie and Julia" day, darlings, and I awoke feeling as perfectly fresh and perky as Amy Adams. Especially after my morning beauty regimen. Then came the reality of domestic goddessness--it is not easy. I find that to make food you have to spend money. First, girls, would you believe I did not have a potato peeler? I mean, I come from the school of Cooking For One, where those of us lacking life partners either eat out a lot in order to keep up with our social life which compensates for not having someone for ourselves, or we crawl home to our hovels emotionally depleted from the neuroses of the NYC work scene, and cannot get any more creative than a pot of pasta or throwing some Stouffer's in the oven. Then along came Meryl and Amy, and this movie, which I expect would change all that.

It still may, but there is more challenge than I expected. In addition I need a cutting board, and a blender with a puree setting. That done, I have to shop for the ingredients--hell, for a simple soup I am going to out $100 by the time I am through. Did Amy Adams have to cope with this? How about Julie Powell? Help me, Amy and Julie!!!!!

Why am I so hell bent on doing this? Is it just Meryl and Amy?? Honey, it goes even further; to quote Cher as Loretta Castorini in "Moonstruck"-- I am looking where I have to in order to become a bride!" Meanwhile, here I am in a shabby apartment in Woodside that needs to be bleached and fumigated, while there are tons of brides all around me who never heard of any of the things I am describing, simply because they are not literate enough. It all fits a pattern!!!

That pattern, darlings, was wanting it both ways--raised in affluence while wanting a non-conforomist lifestyle, not realizing there are prices to be paid. And, honey, I have paid those prices--single, a marginal job that enables me to get buy but does not bring the fame to which I feel entitled, and unable to do anything else because it was made so clear to me by THE WORLD early on that if one cannot pass for being straight--which I certainly can't, darlings; I mean, have you been reading this blog?---then forget domestic bliss or the condo on Long Beach. Long Island, that is!

Well, you know what? As gay men, there is only so much of this crap we ought to take, and then we oughtn't to take it anymore!!!! So my kitchen foray is not just about Amy Adams/Julie Powell, it is about claiming my mantle--perhaps in mastering a few simple recipies I can cook for a man and then my life will take off. It can't hurt trying; I have tried everything else!!!! At very least I will develop some minimal culinary mastery, so that when I visit my father or sister I can cook for them!

But all this equipment, amidst being brilliant in a literary fashion on my day off, and hoping to catch the 4PM afternoon screening of "Julie and Julia." You see how challenging my life is , girls??? And every time I branch out there are more challenges. Thank God I am not taking up needlepoint!

So let us enjoy this "Julie and Julia" day and bask in our illlusions of being domestic goddesses. Wonder how skillful Amy really IS in the kitchen--aah, what am I saying, she and Meryl can do it ALL!!!!

Have a lovely day, girls!

Darlings, It Is So Much More Than Definition!!!!!

Whatever one may think about being gay, let me tell you, darlings, it is not easy. Not just the usual reasons--social persecution and exclusion, career marginality due to sexual orientation--yes, dears, we are talking about my life--but because there are so many definitions of gay from theater queens to vicious opera queens (the worst!) to Chelsea boys, to nellies, butches....the list goes on and on. Sweeties I am not sure what I am, what with my feminizing Diana Vreeland prose style and my panting lust for REAL men like Eric Evans who in my dreams pound my love passage while whispering "Fuck, yeah!" into my ear!

It takes a sense of fabulousnesss about oneself to be gay, and let me tell you I have it. Wait till men taste my Potage Partmentier, then I will have my house in Great Neck or Long Beach and can fly from the land of carbon paper to the land of flowered chintz, which my husband will buy for me! Darlings, how much more can one stand! Stay tuned when I reveal how and what made me this way. You will never believe it!

Tomorrow, We Are Defined!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, I am declaring tomorrow is officially Julie and Julia Day, and you can bet, what with having just started the book, I am marching into my kitchen tomorrow to make Potage Parmentier, and then off to the movie to see the Divine Meryl Streep and the Enchanting Amy Adams. And all from the grubby, grittiness of MY New York based kitchen, in Queens!!!!!

A word, girls, about yesterday's remark regarding enabling, ethnic mothers. Now, some may see that as being a racist; honey, I am just stating facts. Woodside is overrun will all sorts of ethnic diversity, with my gayness, darling, being one of the most diverse of that diverse. And those of us who were raised in affluent white suburban neighborhoods never forget where we came from, so when we get to those urban settings we long to escape to in order to live our lives the way we want instead of proscibed, let me tell you there are things you have to adjust to. Baby, we are a long way from Miss Porter's. And that is not my existent snobbism talking; that is simply facts! If I were a true snob or racist, I would only have these people in my home as cleaning people or yard workers, assuming I had a yard! But to water just one crappy plant? And cook myself a meal? Honey, I can do that myself!

So appologies to Woodside if you feel offended. True, I do want to fly from the land of carbon paper to the land of flowered chintz, but right now Woodside does just fine, what with housing my books and other assorted gay memorabilia, which we will get to in time, girls!!!!

Looking forward to seeing all my girls tomorrow at our repsective kitchen ranges, and at the movies with Meryl and Amy. May all of you have a happy Julie and Juilia Day, darlings!!!!!!!!!

Get To Your Kitchen Ranges, Girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!

......And get them heated, cleaned and fired up! Because in two days, with the release of "Julie and Julia," we are all going to be in oour kitchens trying to cook up a storm like Meryl Streep while looking as scrumptious as Amy Adams!!!! Darling, I can only hope my hair holds out as well as Amy! And to wear that white dress that she serves the rooftop dinner in! Darlings, if I served a rooftop dinner on my building, people would fry, while planes flew overhead, because I live in Woodside,Queens, where I am probably the only one there who has heard of Meryl Streep, Amy Adams or non-procreative sex. There may be sex in Woodside, but it comes with the price tag of children, judging by all the overaged obese tykes in baby carriages being driven by their enabliing ethnic mothers, who are just too dumb for words! So march into the kitchen girls and clean, because soon our reps will be on the line!