Monthly Archives: April 2003
I am on the horns of a dilemma.
If I take the straight guy who has been flirting mercilessly with me for a month out tonight for a drink, I will have to spend a significant portion of the evening in a bar, which activity is only slightly more appealing to me than spending an evening, say, playing poker with the board of directors of the NRA. If he is tipsy, however, he might be more inclined to succumb to my advances.
If I take him out for ice cream, on the other hand, he might be less inclined to succumb to my advances, but I will get ice cream out of the deal.
Talk about being on the horns of a dilemma.
Maybe I should ask his wife what she thinks I should do.
1. Whenever anybody does me the honor of linking to my blog, I try to return the compliment. However, lately I’ve been a little bit scatterbrained (by “lately” I mean “for the last 24 years”) and, though I’ve tried to keep up, I may have missed somebody. So if your blog links to mine and I haven’t added a link to yours yet, please let me know and I’ll rectify the situation posthaste.
2. If you live in or around New York City, you should come to my show tomorrow night (Tuesday, April 22) at 8:00. This is, for the moment at least, the last performance, so if you miss it you’ll kick yourself later.
Where: Upstairs@Red, 356 West 44th Street between 8th and 9th
How Much: $15 cover + 2 drink minimum or $35 prix fixe dinner and show
Tickets: Call SmartTix at 212.868.4444 or go here.
3. After we close, I intend to begin implementing my plans for world domination. If you’re not with me, you’re against me.
In the late fourteenth century, the mystic Saint Julian of Norwich, twenty years after receiving sixteen visions during a severe illness, wrote them down as The Revelations of Divine Love.
This weekend, I am spending most of my time literally singing the praises of someone (Jesus) in whose name millions of my people (the Jews) have been murdered. At the same time, I am celebrating a holiday during which, for centuries, we have been accused of butchering Christian babies and using their blood to make matzah.
Though my mind doesn’t usually dwell on things religious, this conjunction has put me in mind of a passage from Dame Julian’s work:
As truly as God is our Father, so just as truly is he our Mother. In our Father, God Almighty, we have our being. In our merciful Mother, we are remade and restored. Our fragmented lives are knit together, and by giving and yielding ourselves through grace to the Holy Spirit, we are made whole. “It is I, the strength and goodness of fatherhood. It is I, the wisdom of motherhood. It is I, the light and grace of holy love. It is I, the Trinity. It is I, the unity. I am the sovereign goodness in all things. It is I who teach you to love. It is I who teach you to desire. It is I who am the reward of all true desiring. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”
Of course, if I were a girl named Julian I might write some weird shit too.
Today I spent seven hours in church. Tomorrow I will spend five hours in church. Sunday I will spend another seven hours in church. This week (Holy Week) is the only time during the year that I feel uncomfortable, as a Jew, singing in a church choir. When the congregation pretends to be the Jews and sings “Crucify him!” en masse it’s hard not to feel a little, well, on edge.
And everybody gets so upset when I stand up in the middle of the service and shriek, “Your god is a lie!”
I mean, I’m just saying.
I first discovered gay pornography at the age of 13, on a trip to New York, where I bought a copy of Inches from a newsstand vendor who somehow managed to remain ignorant of the fact that I hadn’t hit puberty yet. Inches was a revelation to me, as I had theretofore been limited pretty much to the strip club scene in Bachelor Party. There was a story about these two guys who had an affair with a guy who could suck himself off, and then at the end of the story the surprise twist was that the guy had a twin. I can’t tell you how exciting I found this.
In any event, I returned home to South Carolina and started trying to figure out how I could get more of this stuff. I realized pretty quickly that the local purveyors of such material probably wouldn’t be as accomodatingly blind as the newsstand vendor in New York. So I went to B. Dalton’s, where they sold Inches and a few similar publications, picked up a copy surreptitiously, and stuffed it in my jacket when nobody was looking.
Before I left, however, I dropped a five dollar bill on the floor, because I knew that stealing was wrong.
I just wish I could have gotten change.
Everyone must visit the web site of the First Viennese Vegetable Orchestra at once.
I just ordered their CD and will be unable to concentrate on anything until it arrives.
N.B.: This is today’s second post of two, sort of. For the full explanation, see the previous post. Oy.
Today, I had the following exchange with my friend L.N.:
Me: “Have you always doubted yourself as much as you do now?”
L.N.: “I don’t know.”
It was the funniest thing I experienced all day, even funnier than the moment in the reading of the musical I went to in which someone read the newspaper headline, “Entomologist of the Year Names Killer Bug After Best Friend.”
N.B.: This is today’s first post of two, sort of. But not really. Because I accidentally deleted yesterday’s post, and so I’m posting it again today. But I’m also about to make a real post, a new and exciting one rather than one I’ve had to recycle because of my own incompetence.
But that was before I discovered this.
As with Spider Man, you have to have the sound on to get the full effect; and, as with Spider Man, though this isn’t exactly work-unsafe, your coworkers will definitely think something strange is going on.
And they’ll be right.
Today I participated in a cult ritual.
Twice a year, the church at which I sing for money has a procession through Times Square. Today, Palm Sunday, was one of those times. This meant that for about twenty minutes, I walked through Times Square dressed in a cassock and surplice, carrying palm fronds, and trying not to choke on the incense from the two thurifers at the head of the procession, all while singing “all glory, laud, and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King” over and over and over again as hordes of tourists stared at me. I was supposed to be giving the palm fronds to passersby, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it.
Am I wrong to think that this isn’t too far removed from Heaven’s Gate?