“Heeeeere little snippet, snippet, snippet….”
***Past 3 Months***
E.R. Moore is now a distant memory, for The Job With the Ex-Cons has ended. I certainly can’t say it wasn’t memorable, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t touched by their display of emotion on my last day. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me…people who have been incarcerated for years and have had nothing to do but think about their actions would certainly be put in a reflective mood…and they certainly proved that during my final hours with them. Hugs, gifts, and wishes of “I’m sorry you’re leaving, but I don’t blame you,” were in abundance that day. One of my managers actually started tearing up as I said goodbye…perhaps she’d done time as well…
***606***
Thanks to my pal Mike (thanks Mike!) and a few months of talks and negotiations, I’m now writing the film section for 606mag.com. To look at their current film section is to understand WHY they need a helping hand, and as of the August issue I’ll officially be on board. Talking with the editor the other day put me in a fine mood indeed, as the site (barely 6 months old) is already garnering advertisers, and within the next 6 months they plan on making it a real paper magazine, hence me being able to see my stuff in print for the first time since the high school paper.
***Best Movie Going Experiences***
“2001” at the Astor Place cinemas in New York
“Patton” in 70mm at the Music Box
Sing-a-Long “Sound of Music” with Jacob and my mom
Being with a first-day crowd when Yoda fired up that lightsaber in “Episode 2”
Laughing with amazement as the first person started running up the walls in “Crouching Tiger…”
…and, as of 6\27\04, watching “Fahrenheit 9\11” with my mother. Sure, it was biased and a touch misleading in sections, but you can’t ignore the basic facts Moore presented. Not to mention, also pretty damned funny. But, the real reason this belongs up there with the Best Experiences was that after the movie, my mother (who doesn’t really have a political leaning, she just goes along with my Republican father) actually started crying after she left the theater in exasperation, not knowing what to do anymore about the state of the world. During the car ride home she asked questions and actually articulated her thoughts into coherent arguments about everything from how we view the Iraqi civilization to my father’s mid-life crisis. I don’t give my mother enough credit, and she surprised me once again with this conversation…truly one of my best friends.
***The Return of Spite and Great America***
Spite graced us with a brief return from TN, and we celebrated with a trip to Great America. On the way there Jacob and I lamented on what a slap in the face we both hath given the gay community. Not only did we completely ditch all the pride festivities this year, but deliberately reorganized our G.A. outing NOT to coincide with the annual “gay day” that immediately follows the Sunday parade. Thus, proving we did not need a gaudy parade to make us feel proud, we entered the park and celebrated the lauded Deadly Sin of Pride the only way we knew how…stalking hot straight boys in cut-off shirts. We only needed to find one before Spite turned her head toward her sister and said with a sigh, “It’s going to be like this ALL. DAY.” Right you were, Spite!
AND, during the long-line conversations, I’m happy to announce that I was able to talk BOOKS, for after watching the 3rd Harry Potter movie and explaining to him all the things they left out and filling in the blanks, Jacob finally was incensed enough to go out and buy the 3rd and 4th book. Now mid-way through the 4th and eagerly anticipating the 5th, it’s now all about putting spells on people who walk by and annoy. Wands can be made out of any long wand-like object, such as straws and knives. Patronus optional.
***Madge Returns***
My sister returned from Germany last week, and has officially begun staking her claim to her side of the bathroom. She needed to arrive back in the states because her 1-year work visa was up, but the REAL reason was so she could go to the Madonna concert she had acquired tickets for on the 15th. Not very good seats mind you, but enough to say that “We were there.”
Well, a few days ago I was surfing around online and found that they had opened up a new section of seats on the ground floor, a mere 11 rows from the front stage. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was informing my sister of this information, as she immediately pushed me out of the way with a curt “Why the fuck didn’t you buy them already??” and rampaged downstairs to a computer with DSL connection. Within 4 minutes she had pulled up the ticketmaster page and looked me dead in the face. “The tickets are 300 dollars, but you’re my brother. There isn’t even a question as to if we’re going or not. We are. Now what seats do you want: 1 and 2 or 7 and 8?”
I was appalled. The tickets we had were already 150 bucks, and prime seats like these ran 300. That’s Three Hundred dollars, and for that you do not get a lock of her hair, you do not get to shake her hand…you only get to contribute more riches upon a woman who frankly doesn’t need another red CENT, least of all from me. However, my sister owes me three grand from a previous car-sale, and she said, upon my voiced concerns about 300 dollars being absofuckingridiculous, “Don’t worry. I’ll just take it from the three thousand I owe you for the car. You’ll never even see it in your hand, and you’ll never miss it. It’ll be like it wasn’t even there.”
That’s certainly correct…it’ll be like it wasn’t even there, which is the whole POINT.
“Scott, I don’t even HAVE a job, without any prospects for one in the future. Do you see ME whining about a lousy 300 bucks?”
Well, no…I suppose I don’t. I also don’t really give a rats ass about anyone’s whining but my own at this point, and I don’t want to…
But it was too late. She had already clicked to order the tickets, and with a loud laugh of triumph she had printed out “our” confirmation page from ticketmaster. Fighting at this point was useless. I’m out of 300 bucks, and I’m seeing Madonna on the 11th, in the 11th row. I have no idea how to feel about this, other than monetarily raped.
E.R. Moore is now a distant memory, for The Job With the Ex-Cons has ended. I certainly can’t say it wasn’t memorable, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t touched by their display of emotion on my last day. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me…people who have been incarcerated for years and have had nothing to do but think about their actions would certainly be put in a reflective mood…and they certainly proved that during my final hours with them. Hugs, gifts, and wishes of “I’m sorry you’re leaving, but I don’t blame you,” were in abundance that day. One of my managers actually started tearing up as I said goodbye…perhaps she’d done time as well…
***606***
Thanks to my pal Mike (thanks Mike!) and a few months of talks and negotiations, I’m now writing the film section for 606mag.com. To look at their current film section is to understand WHY they need a helping hand, and as of the August issue I’ll officially be on board. Talking with the editor the other day put me in a fine mood indeed, as the site (barely 6 months old) is already garnering advertisers, and within the next 6 months they plan on making it a real paper magazine, hence me being able to see my stuff in print for the first time since the high school paper.
***Best Movie Going Experiences***
“2001” at the Astor Place cinemas in New York
“Patton” in 70mm at the Music Box
Sing-a-Long “Sound of Music” with Jacob and my mom
Being with a first-day crowd when Yoda fired up that lightsaber in “Episode 2”
Laughing with amazement as the first person started running up the walls in “Crouching Tiger…”
…and, as of 6\27\04, watching “Fahrenheit 9\11” with my mother. Sure, it was biased and a touch misleading in sections, but you can’t ignore the basic facts Moore presented. Not to mention, also pretty damned funny. But, the real reason this belongs up there with the Best Experiences was that after the movie, my mother (who doesn’t really have a political leaning, she just goes along with my Republican father) actually started crying after she left the theater in exasperation, not knowing what to do anymore about the state of the world. During the car ride home she asked questions and actually articulated her thoughts into coherent arguments about everything from how we view the Iraqi civilization to my father’s mid-life crisis. I don’t give my mother enough credit, and she surprised me once again with this conversation…truly one of my best friends.
***The Return of Spite and Great America***
Spite graced us with a brief return from TN, and we celebrated with a trip to Great America. On the way there Jacob and I lamented on what a slap in the face we both hath given the gay community. Not only did we completely ditch all the pride festivities this year, but deliberately reorganized our G.A. outing NOT to coincide with the annual “gay day” that immediately follows the Sunday parade. Thus, proving we did not need a gaudy parade to make us feel proud, we entered the park and celebrated the lauded Deadly Sin of Pride the only way we knew how…stalking hot straight boys in cut-off shirts. We only needed to find one before Spite turned her head toward her sister and said with a sigh, “It’s going to be like this ALL. DAY.” Right you were, Spite!
AND, during the long-line conversations, I’m happy to announce that I was able to talk BOOKS, for after watching the 3rd Harry Potter movie and explaining to him all the things they left out and filling in the blanks, Jacob finally was incensed enough to go out and buy the 3rd and 4th book. Now mid-way through the 4th and eagerly anticipating the 5th, it’s now all about putting spells on people who walk by and annoy. Wands can be made out of any long wand-like object, such as straws and knives. Patronus optional.
***Madge Returns***
My sister returned from Germany last week, and has officially begun staking her claim to her side of the bathroom. She needed to arrive back in the states because her 1-year work visa was up, but the REAL reason was so she could go to the Madonna concert she had acquired tickets for on the 15th. Not very good seats mind you, but enough to say that “We were there.”
Well, a few days ago I was surfing around online and found that they had opened up a new section of seats on the ground floor, a mere 11 rows from the front stage. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was informing my sister of this information, as she immediately pushed me out of the way with a curt “Why the fuck didn’t you buy them already??” and rampaged downstairs to a computer with DSL connection. Within 4 minutes she had pulled up the ticketmaster page and looked me dead in the face. “The tickets are 300 dollars, but you’re my brother. There isn’t even a question as to if we’re going or not. We are. Now what seats do you want: 1 and 2 or 7 and 8?”
I was appalled. The tickets we had were already 150 bucks, and prime seats like these ran 300. That’s Three Hundred dollars, and for that you do not get a lock of her hair, you do not get to shake her hand…you only get to contribute more riches upon a woman who frankly doesn’t need another red CENT, least of all from me. However, my sister owes me three grand from a previous car-sale, and she said, upon my voiced concerns about 300 dollars being absofuckingridiculous, “Don’t worry. I’ll just take it from the three thousand I owe you for the car. You’ll never even see it in your hand, and you’ll never miss it. It’ll be like it wasn’t even there.”
That’s certainly correct…it’ll be like it wasn’t even there, which is the whole POINT.
“Scott, I don’t even HAVE a job, without any prospects for one in the future. Do you see ME whining about a lousy 300 bucks?”
Well, no…I suppose I don’t. I also don’t really give a rats ass about anyone’s whining but my own at this point, and I don’t want to…
But it was too late. She had already clicked to order the tickets, and with a loud laugh of triumph she had printed out “our” confirmation page from ticketmaster. Fighting at this point was useless. I’m out of 300 bucks, and I’m seeing Madonna on the 11th, in the 11th row. I have no idea how to feel about this, other than monetarily raped.