The Secret Garden

As much as the adjustment to Uptown life can sometimes seem impossible...

What with the El Barrio Music Center's streetside stereo jams, the sudden bursts of anger directed inexplicably from one local to another and the random chicken bones we'll find discarded on the pavement, Up-Uptown life can on occasion feel just downright hopeless.

Or rather, at least, at times Matthew and I will just feel hopelessly out of place.

It goes without saying then, that feelings of euphoria nearly indescribable erupted at our discovery that some of the most gorgeous sculpture gardens and landscaped vistas exist at the edges of Central Park- and just a short ten minute stroll from our front door.

Beauty beyond Beauty.

These photos were taken at dusk and barely even begin to illustrate the grandeur of this magical place in the Summer sun. Alongside the adjoining ponds and enormous public swimming pool, this buried treasure ascends to the top of our list of favorite New York places. Frankly, I couldn't be more in love.

They don't make 'em like this in SoHo. We consider it our own private Central Perk. And yes, we're happy in our new home.

quoi the FUCK?

WTF!!!???
Why on Earth did I have to choose the week that Star Jones quit "The View" to be the SAME week I give up on my celebrity blog-reading?

WHY, GOD? WHYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!??????????

So, come Thursday I felt more behind than a photoshoot involving Jennifer "Escuelita" Lopez.

But, Thank God for THIS.

And I'm sorry, you can call me a crazy Rosie Hatin' flip-flopper, but I'm kinda on Team Star with this one.

YEAH, death to Barbara and her Roy Cohn lovin' ways... (ok, i prob shouldn't refer to "death" when talking about an eighty year old) (but you kinda get the drift, right?)

Whatever, I'm still buyin' the DVR just so's I can catch the drama on "The View" EACH AND EVERY DAY and whenever my cotton-pickin' little heart asks for it, with or without Mrs. Star Jones-Reynolds!

We'll definitely miss the crazy bitch tho.

wednesday, i guess

well when it rains, i guess it pours
a new job
a new commercial
with two more commercial shoots booked for next week

my "vacation" is over
it's business is as business does from here on out
and frankly i couldn't be more relieved

i need it
i need work, as do we all

the unpacking is officially finished
we now have a home
as opposed to a hovel

i'm still not sure why i write like this
abbreviated...
without capitalization...
or punctuation...
and often including the dot dot dot...

is it me
or is it her?
"hmmmm"
as she would say

at any rate it's easy
writing this way
and quick too

yes
yes it is

a'ight
i've gotta go
i'm behind on this whole blogging thing
again
but with houseguests everything changes
and this week i've not been myself
if myself is even any one identifiable characteristic
anymore

all is new
as is life
for me
and for her
at the exact same time

The Art Spirit

Buy The Art Spirit by Robert Henri.

I recently rediscovered my copy in our move Uptown. And I can certainly guarantee that be you painter, actor, blogger or just all-around free-thinker, this book will speak to you.

One of the best teachers that I had while at NYU, Tony Award nominee Mr. Michael Krass, recommends that you shuffle through the pages nightly, not taking in the chapters one by one but rather experiencing the work viscerally and completely at random.

Trust me, you will not be disappointed.

And with that, some of my favorite pearls from Robert Henri's The Art Spirit. All, interestingly enough, in reference to classical painting. But also all, as far as I can tell, as much in reference to life...



Cherish your own emotions and never undervalue them.

For an artist to be interesting to us he must have been interesting to himself. He must have been capable of intense feeling, and capable of profound contemplation.

The hunter is learning to see and to understand--to enjoy.

Don't worry about the rejections. Everybody that's good has gone through it. Don't let it matter if your works are not "accepted" at once. The better or more personal you are the less likely they are of acceptance.

You pass people on the street, some are for you, some are not.

The eye must be alert; must see the influence of one thing on another and bring all things into relation.

ORIGINALITY; Don't worry about your originality. You could not get rid of it even if you wanted to. It will stick to you and show you up for better or worse in spite of all you or anyone else can do.

Icy, cold , hard, brittle, timid, fearsome, apologetic, pale, negative, vulgar, lazy, common, puritanical, smart, evasive, glib, to add to the list and repeat a few. Strokes of the brush may be divided into many families...

The living model is never the same... He is always changing.

Tradition! Tradition!

Some things never go out of style.
Amongst these pleasantries are:
Seersucker.
The Summer Months.
Central Park.
And Broadway Under the Stars.

That quintessential Summer tradition followed me Uptown this year for its celebrated tribute to Hal Prince.

All of Broadway's most glittering and talented performers sang to the breezy, sun-hazed picnickers on the Great Lawn.

And the whole extravaganza wrapped up with both Liza Minelli and Fireworks.
It doesn't get much more Manhattan than that.

I Love You New York.
You are so good to us all.

Off to Never, Neverland!

My sixth Pride.
My first year to March.
The Theme of our Float: Peter Pan and the Lost Boys of Crobar.
Amazing, Amazing Fun.
Nicky, Xander, Matthew, the crew.
Thank you so much to all.
Some say the Gays are nothing more than lost boys.
Others feel we rarely grow up.
I say we're just livin' life.
All year long.
But especially on the Last Sunday in June.
When Pride springs eternal.
For everyone.

nurture / nature

a boy plays on the street
he is maybe six years old

it seems too late for him to be out
in my humble opinion
unsupervised
dancing with his young sisters
to a cell phone ringtone
as i walk my dog before bed

he is spanish
small
and has a megawatt grin
that lights up to the thrill of his music

i think to myself that this boy
even more than his sisters
holds such an innocence about him
that his spirit is nearly indescribable

whether its the smallness of his frame
or the freedom with which he moves through his surroundings
this child has been cared for
loved
made to feel he has a place in the world

and then he starts his dancing
a rap song comes on
that he proudly yet nervously plays for me
while his sisters scream and coo over my pomeranian

i don't know the song
i don't know the rapper
it's nothing that i've heard before
but this kid knows all the words
and he starts his dance
immediately

popping
locking
i don't know what it was called

but the boy's pants are suddenly huge and sagging
his earned childhood has somehow taken on an aggressively adult undertone
instantly and bizarrely he seems dangerous
as his new exterior-front is revealed

this kid's mother and relatives arrive soon after
perhaps from the laundromat two doors down
and i'm certain that they will set him straight
but
along with these women walks a group of grown men
in similarly oversized baggy pants and XXXL t-shirts
and with these new men
the boy is all gang signs and symbols
kiddie slang and attitude

he is no longer the child listening to his music
he is no longer the megawatt grin
he is the boy-man attempting to prove his worth
through both anger and quasi-lewd gestures

the family eggs him on
and his smile returns at the pleasure of their approval

i move home towards the apartment
i turn back only briefly

not my place to judge
their family
their culture

not my place to decide what's right
for their son
or his sisters

dance is an expression
rap is often an art form
family is what life is all about

it's only the violence that angers me
or rather the connotation of violence
but it's
not my place to judge
their family
their culture
their lives



photo taken on the last Sunday in June
Gay Pride, 2005
this photo sums up "pride" to me
what our love is all about
for others it may only conjure anger and disgust
but it's
not their place to judge
our family
our culture
or
our lives
either

Pride Weekend Begins!

And it doesn't get any gayer than this assortment of color-organized shirts hanging in my closet!

From what I hear it's gonna be a rainy one, so I hope the boys are bringing protection... (And yes, I do mean BOTH kinds)

Mother Nature (as opposed to God) may have a 100% chance of raining on our parade come Sunday, but regardless of her poor spirits I'd like to extend a Happy Pride to each and every one of us!

Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Sons. I believe we ALL have reason to be proud of where we stand today. But our voices arguably need to be heard now more than ever.

May everyone have a safe, amazing weekend! Drama will undoubtedly be lurking behind most corners (as is the very nature of pride) but if things get too heated with you and your girlfriends remember that you can always just dance it out!

I'm Proud of You.

murdering time

ok
the celebrity blogs are going away
for one week of detox
paralyzing is what they have become
to me
soul-sucking
all-consuming
other-dash-involving
obsessions
empty, mindless, guilty, guilty pleasures
with no nutritional value
only tummy-aches and head-hurts
at the end of my gorging on their gooey, fluffy centers
and for god sakes
attempting to write here daily
strips away enough of my time on its own
so, alright
we'll see if i can do this
no pink
no perez
no nothin'
for one whole week
starting now...

wait!
rosie doesn't count does she?

lost boy

not agoraphobic
but trapped
somehow
useless
sad

each day begins with possibility
every night ends with regret

breaking the cycle
seems an impossible possibility
when tied to every surface
each bubbling countertop
and pulsing stove

sweating the wastefulness of it all
sweating the lost hours
as they jump from one to two
on and on forward

it would all be quite tragic
if life weren't so fundamentally alterable
legs to walk
mouth to speak
mind to reason
heart to know

timing is everything
but timing has to be fucked with
from time to time
in order for progress, life, change
to come

walk
speak
reason
know
now

how did it all come to this?
not agoraphobic
but trapped
somehow
useless
sad

And The Band Played On by Randy Shilts

"It was the end of 1982, a year in which a movie about a lovable space alien, E.T., had topped all box office records, and two movies about people dressing in drag, Tootsie and Victor/Victoria, had been surprise smashes. The class movie of the year was a film about Mahatma Gandhi, exploring issues of prejudice and brotherhood, the power of love and the allure of hatred. Paul McCartney had topped the record charts with a perky duet with Stevie Wonder, "Ebony and Ivory," a song about racial bias. Despite the cultural obsession with androgyny, homosexuality, and prejudice, 1982 marked the beginning of a time, commentators would later note, when America started feeling good about itself again. Old-fashioned red-white-and-blue patriotism was coming back into vogue. Certainly, nobody was paying much attention to an epidemic among people like homosexuals and Haitians, even though by the end of the year, the Centers for Disease Control reported that the number of documented AIDS cases in the United States had risen to nearly 900."

"The truth was that, at the end of 1982, there were 1,000 or 2,000 people, at most, in the United States who truly understood the dimensions of the crisis that was unfolding. For these people, it would be a restless New Year's."

1982
the year life began for me
the year life ended for the world

my boyfriend the future doctor
the HIV lab tech
the genius
inspires me daily to start thinking about this disease in a different way

books
pamphlets
stories
films
he really had his work cut out for him
trying to get me to understand
to not be terrifying
by the l.e.t.t.e.r.s. alone

all i knew for years was fear
nothing worse than AIDS
in my mind
no more horrific end

but
knowledge
love
this is what is needed for those living with disease
this is all it takes

40 million infected
and counting
minority women and adolescents now showing the highest growing numbers
this is not something that can be whispered about
and fear is not the cure

being healthy is a possibility
it can happen with knowledge, with information, with truth
medicine has come so far
AIDS is not HIV
and vice versa
love is god

break the stigma
if i can
then you can't be far behind

One Year

(first photograph taken together)
and since that time...

12 months
11 immediate family members met
10 new shared friends
9 nights at the theatre
8 vacation destinations
7 holidays
6 dozen times we've eaten at Osaka
5 states
4 jobs
3 moves
2 trips to Disneyworld
1 graduation
1 year
1 love

Happy Anniversary, Matthew

I love you completely.

Dear Dad : Love Chris

Not to just straight-up steal from another (MUCH more popular) blog but in Trent's own words, I thought that this celebrity baby-daddy photo montage was "Brills" and I definitely "Luvs it!"

A Huge Happy Father's Day to my own dad. I can't even begin to express how much you've done for us over the years. All of your hard work, your support and your understanding have helped to shape me into the strong-willed, ethical person I am today.

You always told us to believe in ourselves, that it's the Trying, not the Winning that's important in life and that no matter where our paths may take us, our Happiness is really all that matters to you.

I hope to someday be half the father that you've been to me, to Will and to Susan. Much love to you on your special, special day! And Thank You for everything. For life.

Preview to Pride

Saturday Night June 17, 2006

EASTERN BLOC- East Village, N.Y.

FUN- Williamsburg, Brooklyn

MR. BLACK- NoHo, N.Y.



Drinks, Dancing and Debauchery Galore!

The Downtown Kid is Back!

I'M A STAR! (just look for the blur in the background)

on my way to a VMA commercial shoot in queens
Call Time: 9 pm
End Time: 7 am

oh, the glamorous life!

hey, what will i be doing? you half-heartedly ask
apparently endorsing the corporate links between MTV & JCPenney
i enthusiastically reply

exciting, i know
really, try to contain yourselves

but whatever, it could be fun
wish me luck around 5 am though, if you happen to still be awake
cause it'll be just about two more hours til closing time
and lawd knows ima' be cranky!

alright, see you in the morning i'm sure

and p.s.
sorry for all the missed days
cable and internet is now officially up and running at Chez cgc

so here's to a whole summer's worth of blogging fun!

POSTruth

GO HERE

and now that you've gone there
go back every week

"your truth shall set you free"

RUFUS RUFUS RUFUS

some dream
others do
rufus dreamed
then did
and then some
from his mother's heels
to
carnegie hall
magic
on a stage
imperfect perfection
his jokes
his mistakes
his voice
his voice
his voice
"the single greatest night in showbusiness"
revisited
with honor and love
amazing, amazing man
tearing down the house
to riotous applause
two nights only

RUFUS RUFUS RUFUS
not over the rainbow
over the moon

BEWARE!

this blog was once described to me as
"poem, poem, poem, i rode the subway, poem, poem, poem, i rode it again"
i laughed when i heard this because the person describing my writing had really hit the nail on the head with that one

it's true, i've encountered a lot underground in the six years that I've lived in New York
and as much as i detest everything about the subway system from time to time, this city's mta is literally teeming with inevitable situations and encounters tailor-made for a journalistic blog-like exploration

on this afternoon, as i entered the subway yet again, i noticed a black purse had been left in a corner near the exit
the purse looked exactly like the posters warning commuters to alert a station attendant if they see any suspicious or unwatched packaging and i was immediately concerned

the signs, like the announcements made in airport terminals, are a bomb precaution and in my opinion a great step towards getting people to look out for one another
but i'd certainly never seen an unattended bag or item aside from stray trash in all my years, so the signs were both unavoidable and invisible at the same time

but today, here one was
open, large, leathery and near a corner but in plain sight
they could have been photographing the next line of warning posters for all i knew
it looked that menacing

well, no sooner had i seen this lone bag than i noticed at least a half dozen people walking towards the mta employee's glass partition alerting her of it's presence

and "wow" i thought
the signs really work
people are responsible
if given the opportunity they will do the right thing

not to kill what little climax i may have unintentionally managed to elicit, but it turned out that a few moments later a woman claimed the bag as her own
(i'm not sure why she'd left it there)
and, like clockwork, business immediately moved on as usual

the whole encounter was fleeting, irrelevant really to most of you
but i appreciated seeing so many strangers, without hesitation, move towards helping each other out
not one person turned a blind eye
action was taken
and the day was saved

"In Her Words"

I found this quote today from an old magazine interview with Sarah Jessica Parker on the cover. Upon reading her words for a second time I was immediately struck by how deeply they still resonated within me.

This is why I love that show. This is why I love that character.

Couch Mashed Potatoes

tonight we attended a small party for the Tony Awards
a get-together/ a viewing/ a gathering of friends
our presence was mandatory for the sole reason that our new apartment's cable/internet has still yet to be installed
so basically we needed a place to crash

my friend Connor and his roommate Schneider hosted the impromptu shindig and it was really a lot of fun
we talked throughout the entire ceremony
(probably no one more than I)
and as the dreadful three-hour telecast stumbled along i couldn't help but notice how many friends of conny and schneidy's seemed to stumble in as well
not a ton of people by any means, it wasn't that kind of evening
but a girlfriend
followed by a couple
and then another group of two

it felt like sitcom life
comfy couches
a television set
grey goose flowing liberally
jokes and a unified experience
the lightness of youth

this has never been my experience outside the homes of others
friends of mine have never just dropped by
(well, that's not entirely true)
some
but rarely

my apartment never looked much like that revolving door of characters and circumstance that grace/plague national TV
solace, quiet and a certain sense of peace i often seem to find
but the buzz and whir that comes only through the excitement of others i'm afraid i've found less often

i try to control things too much
things that i shouldn't
towel racks and conversations
the opinions of others
i'm not always easy to be around

but tonight i made a lot of jokes
and often people laughed
it really can be very easy to entertain when you try / drink

and it felt quite nice that somewhere in this city the real phoebes and jacks of the world are getting together
on their comfy couches
in front of their television sets
with the grey goose flowing liberally
sharing jokes and a unified experience
basking in the lightness of youth

sitcom life

once a week
for thirty minutes at a time
four commercial breaks
and then it's back to life

disparate housewives

PAINTING
PAINTING
the color "vesper" is all I seem to see

PAINTING
PAINTING
this is what i did today

PAINTING
PAINTING
every afternoon can't be artwork on canvases

PAINTING
PAINTING
some days have to just be the walls

welcome home

Everything is Here
packed in boxes, impossible to locate
But Here

Everything, that is
except for what remains of my former kitchen

We have no dishes
no utensils
no dining supplies of any kind

they're all still inexplicably downtown
waiting to be picked up from the apt. formerly known as mine
but downtown just the same

This means that in the past three days
all in-house meals have been consumed via paper plates
or pretty much whatever we can get our hands on

i cut cheese with a recently purchased can opener
i ate yogurt off a brand new steak knife turned upside down
kleenex brand tissue are my new napkins
and we both scoop cereal from our ikea tupperware containers gorilla-like, shoveling the puffed wheat down clumsily, finger-full by finger-full

completely aware of the disgust with how far we've fallen

"This'll pass" I'm told
"This'll pass" I keep hearing

"But when?" I respond, diving for that one last scoop of Rotel from it's makeshift jagged dixie cup location

"But when?"

"On Broadway"

See "The Drowsy Chaperone."

Live, don't Leave.

long road...homo

I took a shit in my new bathroom.

the hall stretched out before me and I felt the sensation of space
(forward moving, physical, you-can-step-there-if-you-want-to space)
where it hadn't been before

this apartment is much larger than the last
and as I looked into this largeness a remembrance of the spatial relationship to my former bathroom breathed into the back my consciousness

ghost lingering
phantom pain
sadness for what is no longer mine

I've been reminding myself as much as possible lately that life is what matters
people, dogs, co-habitation

possessions are lifeless, dead, irrelevant and unloving

seeing all the crap I've accumulated over the years and fearing for its safe passage to my new address has done this to me

crap, all of it

buttons and cheap clothing
bar stools and furniture
posters and old magazines

some of it is important crap
like photographs and letters, diaries and art
but crap just the same

I've worried a great deal these past few weeks, concerned with how upset and out-of-order my home has become
"There's a direct correlation" I said to M.S. "between the order of my surroundings and the order in my head"

as far away from my Downtown life as I could have ever imagined
away from all that is safe and sacred and mine

The concept of Home has seemed a distant memory with all the worry of moving from it.

My own life feels not my own.

But I wonder what defines a Home for you? Is it concepts? Zip codes? The familiar? What you own? Or is it the people? The changes? Where love is? Where you land?

Superman

Bravo, Mayor Bloomberg. Bravo.

We may not always agree on everything but your expression in this photo speaks volumes to the nature of your character.

Continue to use your power for good. I thank you very deeply for this proposal.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Sensible Gun Legislation. Sensible Gun Legislation. Shout it from the rooftops people!


MAYOR FINDS NEW TARGETS IN GUN FIGHT
by Bryan Virasami
Special to amNewYork

Three weeks after he sued out-of-town gun shops over unlawful sales, Mayor Bloomberg ramped up his war on illegal guns yesterday with a package of legislation aimed at local gun dealers and criminals--and at paint used on weapons.
One bill would force those convicted of third-degree gun possession to register their present addresses with police for four years. The mayor noted that about 800 people are convicted on gun charges every year, and many commit other crimes.
The new strategy to fight illegal guns also includes bills that would ban the possession and use of coloration kits used to change the colors of real guns to look like fluorescent-hued toy guns.
He warned that refinishing can be a problem for cops in a tense situation and for innocent people who, for example, may think a real gun is fake and refuse to comply with a criminal's demands.
The bill, drafted with the City Council, would ban the use and sale of gun coloration kits available for sale on the Internet or from gun dealers.

BATH

i enter as the water runs
bubbles escape from separate parts of me
and i slip & slide slug-like atop the suds

the first time i'm not bathing standing up
since Thanksgiving
i feel large & sexual
alone in the largeness of this new space that is home

every corner & crevice of me feels beautiful & right where it belongs

i have two choices
which i consider more than you get most of the time
Hot or Cold
i choose a mixture

tonight, lying here in this wet abyss, i long for a cigarette
some candles would be lovely too

i used to not feel clean
having just laid in what came off of me
but i love that old familiar childhood burn of water rushing up your nose

and my body never really prunes

MOVING DAY

Aaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

where to even fucking begin?

From There...

...To Here