This morning, I was running down Riverside Drive when I felt something moving around in my shoe. Something had managed to find its way into the little space next to my achilles heel. Oh great, I thought, picturing a spider. 'What?' it would say when I shook it out. 'I needed a ride downtown and didn't want to take an Uber.' As it turned out though, it was just a little twig, who didn't seem upset when I explained that it couldn't ride in my sock.
Stephen and I watched a large number of gay-themed movies this past week as part of Outfest LA, a film festival featuring (as per the website) '160+ films, 35 world-premieres, 6-nights of drive-ins, concerts and live events featuring LGBTQIA+ storytellers.' As you would expect, we liked some of the films more than others, but regardless of the specific content, it felt good to be immersed in a gay universe, particularly when I juxtaposed this sense of relief/validation with the surreal nightmare of the Republican National Convention (not that I watched any of it, but it was impossible to avoid reading about it, which was bad enough).It's sometimes easy to forget how straight the world is, at least as depicted on mainstream television, movies, and books, and how this fundamental straightness, whether the intent is conscious or not, has a degrading, demoralizing impact on those of us who are not straight, individually and -- I believe -- collectively.
My favorite films were the ones that avoided what I would describe as 'slice-of-life' narratives, which to me often feel like the filmmaker is trying to tell the (straight) world, 'see, we're just like everyone else.' In 'Dry Wind' -- from Brazil -- the film is infused with surreal S&M dream imagery and colors that recall 'Querelle,' Fassbinder's last movie; the sex is explicit and erotic, the framing of the shots always gay. The lead is middle-aged guy, bearish, who is sent to a remote part of Brazil to work on some kind of infrastructure project. He's part of group of workers trying to unionize with mixed results. The gay sex; the class awareness; the surreal filmmaking; the group shower scenes: it's hard to imagine such a movie being made in the United States, at least in 2020. 'Ask Any Buddy' -- which was made in the United States -- is a montage of pornography clips from the 1960's, '70s, and '80s. Sex aside -- and there's a lot of it -- many of the clips are campy and fun. It also captures a sense of seedy (erotic) possibility that defined New York City in the pre-Friends era. As I watched, I couldn't help but wish that more contemporary filmmakers drew their inspiration from vintage gay porn instead of sanitized Hollywood rom-coms and tearjerkers. One new film from the United States I did like was 'The Obituary of Tunde Johnson,' which is about a gay, Black teenager from an upper-class neighborhood in L.A who is terrorized by the police. Thanks to some innovative storytelling techniques that have the narrative jumping back and forth in time and in parallel universes, the film -- though bleak -- transcends reality in ways I associate with queer futurism. A final film I enjoyed -- 'Suk Suk' -- was made in Hong Kong. It's about two older men, both closeted -- one married to a woman, and one a widower -- who meet and fall in love. Though the film has moments of humor and redemption, it has an aura of tragic despair -- as each man confronts the unfulfilled potential of his life, now that he's glimpsed what it could have been like -- that I found very effective and sad. And relevant, particularly while pondering -- as the men in this movie do -- what the final years of their lives will look like, and whether they would have to be spent in nursing homes where they would be alone or forced back into the closet. (One of my big fears.)
Some of the shorts were also great. My favorite -- 'Candis for President' -- stars Candis Cayne, who decides to run for president and hits the streets of L.A. with her campaign manager. It made me wish that Larry David would retire and hand his show over to Candis Cayne (and her manager).
I wanted to make a correction to last week's post, in which I referred to the above plant as a 'native' begonia, when in fact -- as several readers pointed out -- it's a 'hardy begonia' (begonia grandis). Whatever it's called, I can't recommend this plant enough for a shady part of the garden :)
This week I continued to run very early in the morning, which is when I feel most at peace with the outside world. The other twenty-two hours are more taxing and abrasive; it's not just doomscrolling through Twitter, but a sense of doomscrolling through our collective existence.
I find myself increasingly despondent about the political landscape (and, really, what other landscape matters right now?). There appears to be no will in either of the ruling parties (or at least the ruling factions of these parties) to change the fundamental dynamic of how the government rules -- or cares for -- its citizens. I try to reason with myself. Maybe Biden will win and we'll at least put the brakes on this slow-moving car crash; but it's hard to imagine him overseeing the kind of seismic shifts that (I believe) society needs to avoid more of the chaos and punishment we've witnessed, except -- as recent history tells us -- it will be worse.
In the effort to sublimate some of this anxiety into something more calming, I wrote and recorded a new song this week:
Song notes: I wrote this song on an acoustic guitar, using a new picking pattern that definitely stretched my envelope but I hope will be of some use going forward :) I also found a new setting for a delay effect on Cubasis that I used on the electric guitars. Otherwise, just guitars, drums, and bass. Is there a genre called 'bleak core'? If so, this is my current entry.
Also, a few other readers have asked for a complete list of Death Culture @ Sea quarantine songs. You can find a complete playlist here, along with some pre-quarantine efforts.
How does this chapter of our country's history end? At the moment, I have no idea, and I'm not sure I want to find out.