Author Archives: Joel Derfner

I’m sorry to have been silent for so long.

And I’m sorry to tell you that I’m going to be silent for another week and a half, because tomorrow evening E.S. and I are going to Egypt for ten days.

I am visiting the land of my Ur-oppressors.

Or, if you prefer, I am returning to the land where my people were slaves in the house of bondage.

I leave the BDSM joke up to you.

Any comment on my part would be superfluous.

(Click on the image to read the article.)

I feel almost certain that everybody has seen these by now, but just in case, here are three spots created for Equal Marriage.

They’re kind of brilliant.

(Thanks to him for the link.)

For those of us delighted by the publicity stills of Daniel Radcliffe in Equus, here is another one that, inexplicably, hasn’t received as much play. It is most definitely not safe for work. I am no computer maven, so I cannot swear it has not been altered, but it seems genuine enough to me.

I would like to point out, by the way, that in real life I am so not interested in younger men. When it comes to anything but the vaguest and most fleeting of fantasies, I’m like, ew, if you didn’t see The Dark Crystal in the theater, get away from me.

It occurs to me that, during one of the exercises I have my students perform from time to time, I do end up saying “Bring your knees closer to your chest.”

Unfortunately, given my proclivities, this doesn’t help me at all.

Okay, I need some help here.

There is a guy who has started coming to the body-sculpting class I teach on Monday afternoons who is my soul mate. I’ve never actually spoken to him, but it’s clear to me that we are destined to be together (sorry, E.S.). All I need to do is let him know that the yearning he undoubtedly feels for me is reciprocated, and he will sweep me up in his arms and carry me away to eternal bliss.

The problem is that, since it’s a body-sculpting class, I am limited as far as appropriate language to sentences like “During this exercise, don’t let your hands fall below shoulder level” and “Check yourself in the mirror to make sure your back is flat” and “Make sure you’re supporting yourself above the knee rather than on it.”

So how do I tell him I love him speaking only in terms of his musculoskeletal system?

Remember that this will be in a large room filled with twenty other people, mostly women, doing the same exercises.

It is a complete mystery to me that the blogosphere has not been flooded with the publicity photos of Daniel Radcliffe (aka Harry Potter) in the upcoming London production of Equus.

Since it has not, however, I feel it is my duty to share.

Harry, if you meet me just before midnight tonight at platform 9 3/4 I’ll teach you some magic infinitely more entertaining than anything you’ve learned in Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class.

Oh.

My.

God.

Sometimes I really just love the world.

(Thanks to him for sharing.)

When I was five, I went to summer camp at the Jewish Community Center. On the first day all the campers were divided into groups, each led by a counselor; our first task was to choose an animal name for our group. I was thrilled that the other campers in the group saw the genius of my suggestion that we call ourselves the Golden Eagles (I really wanted to use the appropriate scientific name, Aquilae chrysaetoi, but even I knew better than to try to foist that on the other campers). The rest of the first day of camp was delightful in all respects, and I went home fully satisfied.

Then, that night, I had an epiphany.

Before the Golden Eagles’ counselor could convene the morning meeting, I explained that I had something very important to say. I had realized the night before, I explained, that although the Golden Eagles was a fine name for our group, the perfect name had been staring us in the face the whole time, and we really needed to be called the South American Giant Anacondas.

Our counselor squelched this idea even before I could insist that it be put to a vote.

The summer went downhill from there.

If you haven’t seen the scale model of the Battle of Helms Deep from Lord of the Rings, you must go here at once. I should warn you, however, that possible reactions include wanting to take out a contract on your significant other’s life and the life of this man’s girlfriend so you can have him to yourself.

I mean, I’m just assuming.