twenty-something

Because, clearly, I would rather see any kind of cinematic trash than watch anything on any critic's "Best Of" list this awards season, I saw Jennifer Gardner's new rom-com, Catch and Release last night. 'Twas a cute movie and a fun little date night with a certain hot blonde. I'm discovering that I really like movies without any kind of pretention -- and this movie certainly wasn't putting on any airs. It was what it was, and I thought it was fun.

Worth the price of admission alone is Sam Jaeger (above, and right), perhaps the most perfect man I've ever seen. He's a decent actor and the epitome of my archetypical type. His performance isn't anything that extraordinary, but he does a good job as an unrequited everyman. Plus, he's so damn handsome it hurts. Add to the fact that his character a rugged, sensitive outdoorsy man in Boulder, and I'm hooked.

(Insert fisherman joke here.)

Sam Jaeger (how hot is that name?) -- will you marry me?

And since I'm clearly delusional, we can totally have a threeway ceremony with George and Callie and Burke and Christina.

Fox has cancelled their once-white-hot hit, The OC.

This comes as no surprise to anyone paying attention. The network only ordered 16 episodes for the show's fourth season, and it was getting killed in the ratings by Grey's Anatomy and CSI, despite a critical renaissance. Fox, the network itself, even launched its own "Save The OC" campaign (to save the show from... themselves?). But nothing helped. The Series Finale will be shown on February 22.

For those not paying attention (like me), you are probably asking, "The OC is still on TV?"

Greg's review of Dreamgirls:

You should try to take your fam, but maybe not, b/c your brother will definitely turn gay after watching this movie. This movie is like hypnosis telling you you need to suck cock. By that, I mean it's the best movie ever made.

I loved it. Really well done and engrossing. Natalie Portman, despite her bad accent, is great. Hugo Weaving does a superb job as V, making a somewhat ridiculous character (on celluloid, anyway) into something that works. And the message is there, heavy-handed but white-hot. Overall, it's just a solid film that delivered beyond my high expectations. Not an Oscar contender, but a really stunning ride.

Go see it this weekend. This movie deserves to be huge!

My favorite monkey, to be exact. Curious George.

Caught a showing last night with my housemate. While largely imperfect, the new animated film version of literature's most mischievous primate (and my favorite) was a lot of fun. I found myself smiling -- widely -- for much of the movie, quite amused by the titular character and his shenanigans. George is completely adorable and irresistible in this version, pitch perfect. I could watch the opening sequence -- which features Jack Johnson's "Upside Down" -- and then closing credits -- an extremely well-done collection of Classic George images -- over and over again. The stuff in the middle? Eh.

It's a kids movie, and that's a good thing. There isn't a lot of "over the kids' heads" humor, a la Shrek, and thus the film doesn't feel as forced as other, more recent animated fare. It's not a Pixar classic by any means, but George never feels like it's try too hard like most of the sludge that Dreamworks et al. are spewing out. It reminded me a lot of the movies I watched growing up -- and the stuff I saw my brother and sister watching when they were growing up ten years later -- a sort of classic cartoon innocence in the plots and characters. There appears to be no moral to the story, though -- and if there is, it's to be curious and adventurous, to gain experience. That's a great message for children (and adults), but there's a lot the movie doesn't say about responsibility and consequences. But I digress...

Was I bored at times? Yeah. Was the plot silly and predictable? Yeah. But it's a kid's movie. There's no Mike Myers doing that horrible Scottish thing, making thinly veiled sexual jokes, and that's a check in my book.

Speaking of overrated comedians I once loved -- I'm over Will Farrell. Totally. He's not horrible here as the Man in the Yellow Hat (now known as Ted), as his "Farrell-ness" is mostly kept in check, but there are times you just want him to shut up. Many times. Ditto for Eugene Levy. Both his character and his voice work are too much, even for a kid's film. Damn it, man, get your career back on track! Drew Barrymore is cute, even if she negates the Man in the Yellow Hat's iconic bachelor status. And Jack Johnson's music -- even though they only use three or four songs from the album -- is spot on.

Overall, George -- both the monkey and the movie -- is charming. To smile throughout? I think that's the highlight of my week.

Eddie is back in the background. The Applewhites are doing stuff. Susan is slightly less annoying (and her new boyfriend is a hunk). Gabrielle is fabulous. And Bree is Republican, homophobic, drunk, tragic, and the center of the show.

But Lynette? She fucking rocks my world. Her storylines are grounded. Her husband is hot. And Felicity Huffman is, of course, amazing. She has a Golden Globe, fer Christ's sake. Also? She's vengeful and crazy jealous. Kinda like me.

It's a shame that we won't get to see this hilarious episode again because Cruise is "said not to like the episode and Paramount just didn't dare risk showing it again." Good thing I already have a copy on my iPod. Take that, Tom.

[Via Towleroad.]

I saw a lot of movies in '05. Here are the ones I can remember as my favorites.

• Crash | An excellent piece of work. After my first viewing, I was left reeling and needing to see it again. It's an stunning statement on race and racism in America, and a masterfully crafted interlocking story even independent of its powerful message.
  
• Batman Begins | Christian Bale and Christopher Nolan reboot the Dark Knight, and it's good! And kinda scary -- and not just because Katie Holmes is in it! I like Batman, but don't like bats. Or scarecrows for that matter. The film succeeds, despite its Creek refugee and the franchise's sordid screen past. Good stuff!
  
• Mad Hot Ballroom | Cute kids. Dancing. It is what it is. Saw it by accident in New York, before I heard any hype -- hell, before I'd even heard of it. Edit a bit from the end performances, and it's perfect.
  
• Brokeback Mountain | Yeah.
  
• Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit | Great to see these two on the big screen at last. The translation isn't perfect, but it's still much, much better than anything else this side of Pixar.

Honorable mentions go to The 40 Year Old Virgin (Very funny, full of heart... and Catherine Keener), War of the Worlds (Despite Tom Cruise and a very flawed ending, I was engrossed, and very, very scared) and The Interpreter (A highly decent thriller... plus I adore Catherine Keener) -- all flawed but enjoyable popcorn fair, which is what movies are all about, eh? Admittedly, I haven't seen most of the critic's top pics yet (Good Night & Good Luck, King Kong, Capote), but then again, you don't come to 20sum for class.

Speaking of a lack of class -- My picks for worst? Ugh. Bewitched takes the top no-prize, with Eating Out, Fantastic Four, and Rumor Has It being other top disappointers.

[From Premiere, via AICN. Lots more pics here.]

Or at least I will be in about six hours.

I head down today for a whopping eight day stretch with my friend Greg. I'll going to be in New York until January 3rd. That's a long time...

Christmas was pretty good. Lots of food and family in Rutland. Nothing very note-worthy -- just Christmas. I did see Rumor Has It last night. I thought about writing up a review, but I decided not to waste any more time on the film. Needless to say, it wasn't very good -- almost Bewitched bad -- and you should not waste any money on it, no matter how much you love Jenn Aniston and her big, alien eyes.

So I'm both excited and nervous about this jaunt to the Big Apple. This is my first trip down since my ill-fated visit back in May. Last time there, I ended up doing very little because I fell ill. I am no fun when I am feverish. Here's to good health.

This is the first time I've taken the five-hour train ride to the city since I got trapped in one for nearly twenty-four hours, during Hurricane Phillip back in 1999. Today it's raining. Fingers are crossed.

And this is the first time I've been to New York since Duncan and I broke up during his five-week summer stay there. Not that I'm bitter. It's just that the city does have something else associated with now, for it this trip and probably all others from here on out.

Regardless of bad memories, I'm looking forward to this trip. Not sure what blogging will be like while I'm away. But New Yorkers out there, feel free to say hello. Perhaps I'll see you around.

I'm back in Vermont. The house is quiet, lonely. Even the dog is mellow, not demanding any attention tonight. I thought I'd dig having the place to myself, but after a social long weekend in Boston, I'm not eager to sleep alone -- be it alone in my bed, or alone under this roof.

It was a fine trip to Beantown, full of holiday-flavored Starbucks drinks, futher shopping procrastination, and even more beer that usual. Thursday I spent as I planned -- in a self-imposed exile. I spent it alone, in town, without my usual support or defenses. I strolled the streets solo, ate by myself, and ended up in my comfy hotel bed before midnight.

Friday was spent out and about, some of it in frigid rain, much of it with my ex-boyfriend. Ended up in Fanieul Hall that night for dinner and drinks with a few quality folks, including said ex and his older brother. A slightly awkward night saved by a decent cover band at Paddy O's. Straight people are so weird.

So I did see Brokeback Mountain on Saturday with Yelli, Natalie, and Matt. We chased that with dinner at Fire + Ice (yum), sipping caramel apple martinis and sitting next to a plump, odd British woman whom we dubbed "Nanny 9/11" (That one's for you, Nat.). With full bellies, we ended up an odd house party in Somerville (where I got to see a few familiar faces, ones I don't see very often these days). Got back to my hotel at 4AM. Ugh.

I'm a tired boy this evening, but it was worth it. Good times.

So here are five quick thoughts on the much-hyped cinematic event of 2005:

1.) Harvard Square is a cool place to see a movie, but the seats suck. My butt was numb before any on-screen buttsex -- and that's no good.

2.) I need to get this out of the way next: seeing The Princess Diaries' boobs was disturbing. Very, very disturbing. In fact, anytime Anne Hathaway (Lureen) was on screen, was I was fighting hard to suppress giggles, even in her final, powerful scene. Giggles. I think it was all of the ridiculous hairstyles. And that Disney thing, too. (See also: 2005 Guide to Modern American History As Told Through Anne Hathaway's Hair in Brokeback Mountain - via towleroad.)

3.) Everybody else can go on about Jakey (so over him, the actor) and Ledger (so powerful, the actor as Ennis). They rocked. The film was breath-taking with the two leads together on screen. But how about the supporting cast? I thought everybody put in stellar performances -- despite the fact that the female casting in general was distracting for me. Besides Princess Diaries (as I mentioned above), you have powerful parts played by actresses best know for very silly parts -- on Dawson's Creek (Michelle Williams), and in Scooby Doo (Linda Cardellini) and Scary Movie (Anna Farris). They all did great -- especially Williams (ex-Jenn) and Farris (in a brief-but-delightful surprise cameo) -- but the giggle factor, which not as high as it was for Hathaway, was always in the background for me.

4.) I'm shocked that I haven't seen more blog-ink spilled over David Harbour, who plays Randall Malone (Anna Farris' husband). Granted, he only shows up in one scene, but he's a fairly important character -- and really, really cute. Considering the gay blogs that I read (check the blogroll), I'm really surprised that I can't recall a single mention of this hunky, bearded man (on the right, clean shaven). He was much hunkier than Jake and Heath (but maybe that's just me). He looks kind of like a lost Fisher brother from Six Feet Under. I hate when people say "woof" about hot scruffy guys -- really, really hate it -- but Harbour kinda makes me want to say it. Is that a good thing? (Anybody have any other pics of him?)

4.) The hype -- and expectations that come with it -- will ruin this movie for many folks. It didn't ruin it for me, but it might have.

5.) The two straight women in our party were the ones crying. Heartless Matt was dry as a bone. My eyes were misty and I shed a single tear. I wanted to be sobbing. I wanted the film to take hold of me, bend me over and make me it's bitch, but it didn't. It was emotional, powerful, really good -- but it just didn't hit me the way I wanted -- expected -- it too. Ultimately, I found Annie Proulx's tale in its original, print form to be much more affecting. Is it because I'm a reader? A writer? Because of The Princess Diaries' tits? I don't know. But I read the story three times in the past week. I cried the first time. The film is effective and well-done, remarkably faithful to the original material -- but the prose, man. You gotta read the prose.

Alright. It's time to sleep.

Stuck in Vermont with one tiny, crappy, greedy "art house" theater (Merrill's very sad Roxy), with no clear sign of when it'll come to town (but apparently it will come, according to the poster in the Roxy's lobby), I don't really have a choice. I'm obviously not surprised, but still disappointed.

This week, I've read the orginal short story, watched the Logo special, and scanned the reviews. I've tried to resist the hype, but I'm totally jealous. I really want to see this flick.

Apparently a gay kid in Bethel, Vermont gets made into a jock. (Well, if playing soccer makes you a jock, then I was a gay jock in high school too.) And, supposedly, this ep is inspirational.

The kid's big brother was Dunc's floormate in college. And it's a small world afterall.

MTV, always good at reruns, is playing the show again tonight at 8PM, tomorrow at 4PM, and Wednesday at 6PM. I think I may have to watch it.

Dane, that softy, gets all mushy about what this means to him over at his official site:

The dream that I had in 7th grade is about to become a reality. I've been asked to host Saturday Night Live! December 3rd! I did this with my stand up comedy. Not a tv career or a film career. I did it because I was a good guy with great intentions. I never got caught up in anything beyond the simple idea of bettering myself at this craft that I love and respect. More than anything I am doing it because my fans are some of the sharpest, coolest comedy fans on this planet and you got behind me and never left... The things you dream can become the things you have. The things you have should always be shared. I share this with you guys because, well, you've become part of this ride. We can all enjoy this together.

I met Dane once, after having had the pleasure of booking him for a very sold-out show last year in Vermont. He was a really, really nice guy -- totally amazing on and off stage. He immediately showered praise on the poster that I'd designed for the show, so I instantly fell in love with him. The whole thing was my coolest career moment so far.

Added bonus: James Blunt, who's single "You're Beautiful" has been in iPod heavy rotation this fall, is the musical guest. (Sorry, Rick, but I louve that song.)

Tonight, Oprah Winfrey will finally appear on The Late Show with David Letterman.

It's been (apparently) sixteen years that the Queen of Daytime and the, err, Prince of Late Night have been feuding. I don't know how real the bad blood is, but I've enjoyed Dave's many, many, many hilarious jabs at the talk-maven and I'm excited to see where this goes tonight. The build-up to this "event" has been brillant, with Dave promising it'll be the "Super Bowl of Love." Last night, Paul Schaffer said he couldn't wait to watch the episode on his Video iPod, and I giggled. Paul Schaffer actually made me (kinda) laugh.

The Fort Worth Star-Telegram has a really excellent piece on the feud (via AICN). I highly recommend checking it out.

And most definitely check out Letterman tonight, not just for Oprah, but for Bonnie Raitt too!

Vermont's own Stowe Mountain got a mention on tonight's episode of Lost -- sandwiched right between a gruesome shot of a broken leg and a gruesome shot of said leg being set by a clinical psychologist. That'll do wonders for tourism, eh?

Yesterday, when I got home from work, I was gripped with the sudden and immediate desire to finally watch Before Sunset, which I picked up on DVD used a month or two ago at Blockbuster. So I did. Now I'm not a big Ethan Hawke fan, but 1995's Before Sunrise -- which spawned this 2004 sequel -- is one of my favorite films. Top Five, perhaps. A few years back, I was excited to hear that auteur Richard Linklater was making a follow-up to such a great flick, but for some reason I avoided it when it was in theaters. I avoided it when it came out on DVD, too. I avoided it even after owning the damn thing for over a month. Despite hearing overwhelmingly good buzz about Sunset, I couldn't bring myself to watch it. I was afraid that revisiting the whole affair might just ruin it.

Was I right? Fifteen or so hours after the end credits began to roll, I'm still haunted by the film. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Overall, it affected me, perhaps more than the first one. I found myself both enthralled and disgusted, pleased and disappointed, by the whole thing, and afterwards, I spiralled into a small sort of funk that I now teeter back on the edge of, even as I type. I loved this film. I hated this film. I was shaken by this film.

I am a romantic. Try as I might not to be, I am. That's why the original is one of my favorite films. I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it... And the follow-up was just as sweet and passionate as the first. Seeing Before Sunrise in high school, back in 1996, was important. It was one of those rare formative films, one that actually, truly shaped the kind of lover I would become, the kind of love I longed for. So much so that everytime I am on a bus or train, I fantasize about what might be. Every single time.

There are moments I love, and there are moments when I love the whole damn movie. The chemistry between Hawke (Jesse) and Julie Delpy (Celine) is still there. It's palpaple. When they are sitting on the bench at the film's midpoint, gazing at each other, my heart ached for them to touch, to kiss, to be together. In the car, as Celine reaches out to Jesse, and they almost connect... it's electric. It's maddening. When Delpy dances at the end, I want so badly to be heterosexual, to be Jesse, to have her. But, ultimately, watching two thirty-somethings carry on this way, after nine years apart, fills me with a great sadness. Why, when the film ends on such an ambigious, but hopeful, note? Because I don't want that to be my sad, silly, romantic future. Will I, in my thirties, still be chasing the same romantic ideals as I do now? Will I be past all the dramatics yet, happy, settled, in love? Or will I be unfullfilled, chasing after one foolish notion or another? There lies the film's flaw -- nine years later, I don't want to relate to these two. And yet I still did. This, ultimately, is why Before Sunset shook me.

The episode was overall solid, especially after somewhat lackluster bows by both Lost and Housewives. The little-medical-show-that-could delivers where the blockbusters couldn't. Even if the Meredith/Dr. McDreamy/Mrs. McDreamy storyline was a little eh, Sandra Oh rocked my ass out of the park and George was, well, my George.

So, no, the show is far from over for me. Still loves it!

(And don't forget -- the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack dropped today. Featuring great tracks by Tegan & Sara, Mike Doughty, Ben Lee, and Medeski Martin & Wood -- the album looks like it kind of, sort of rocks.)

Me? I kind of agree with Gabrielle up there. I was kind of embarrassed sitting there watching it, embarrassed by such a foolish spectacle and embarrassed to be a party to it, encouraging such behavior.

The over-the-top camp of these girls behaving badly was still fun, but many of last night's cringe-worthy moments weren't as painful-but-in-a-good-way to watch as they were in the first year -- last night, many just felt painful. The wrap-up from the finale felt rushed and the aftermath of all of it, after a year's worth of story, felt hollow. And the rest? Eh. The Mike and Susan drama... Photoshoped paternaty tests... Jesse Metcalfe's man-boobs and eyebrows... Zach's mistaken corpse, played by Clay Aiken... the funeral. It all felt... tired.

It was, of course, more of the same from season one, but this time around, after months away from Susan, Bree, Lynette, and Gabby, it was the first time that more of the same felt like a bad thing. It felt like somebody -- the creator, the writers, the stars, maybe everybody -- wasn't trying hard enough. After summer break, the spell has been broken. Win me back, girls!

Will I continue to watch the Wives? Please. Of course I will. But are my fears, which came up after last year's lackluster finale, that the show may fall victim to its own hype and quirkiness, a la Ally McBeal, slain by this episode? Nope. They were strengthened. In fact, were it not for the wonderful Alfre Woodard, the show probably already would've "jumped the shark" with last night's foolish final scene. I'm disinterested in this new mystery, but I'm hopeful it will give Alfre and her hot, baritone son lots more screen time.

Perhaps I expect too much from a show called Desperate Housewives...

I am flashing back to being 12 and desperately missing Bea Arthur...

It was beautiful. And facinating. And cute.

But I dozed off during it two or three times, one of which I convinced myself I started storing and nearly left the theatre. I think it was all the brightness from the snow and the repetition of the action. I mean, it had kinky sex, but where were the explosions? (I keed.)

It certainly was a stunning film, even if all the best and most artistic shots of the 110min film were already shown in the trailer. I also could have done without Morgan Freeman's voiceover, both his voice (which, frankily, I'm growing very tired of) and the cheesy script. But, hey, it was probably better than The Island. Did I like March? I will say that I appreciated it.

Overall, March of the Penguins is what it is. And what it is it is a movie about penguins. Only penguins. And a scary seal. Just be aware of the before you plunk down your cash-money (I was) -- and be sure to bring something to keep you awake and warm.

I was nervous about the show, but, as it turns out, it's my new favorite. It's sublimely funny, mainly due to Alley's self-parody, the show's warped sense of reality, the spot-on guest stars, and, especially, the brillant Ms. Rachel Harris.

Yelli and I watched the episode "Crack for Good" -- or rather, the parts of "Crack for Good" in which Harris' Kevyn is cracked out -- nearly a dozen times. That ep and the wacky "The Koi Effect" ("Would you buy a Mini Cooper for me and my peeps, Leah Remini?") are the highlights of the seven shows produced and included on the DVD, but all of them have their moments.

Fat Actress is hereby 20sum Approved!

"Where were you when I was smoking crack, Eddie?!"

In case you feel inclinded to see it -- for the love of God -- skip Bewitched. It is truly terrible!

I wanted to like it. I did. I love love love Will Ferrell and I generally adore Nicole Kidman. I love the TV show. But this -- this just falls flat, horribly horribly flat. There's so much potential wasted here -- the chemistry of Ferrell and Kidman, that cast (featuring all sorts of Daily Show, Strangers With Candy, and even Wonderfalls alumni), the legacy of the show, for God's sake. This film just doesn't work. It's concept is too high and it's standards are too low. Ultimately, the experience of seeing it is worse than last year's Stepford Wives, which I, for one, actually enjoyed parts of.

Here, Ferrell is doing what he does best to the worst degree, and the whole time, you're sitting there thinking, "Stop! This is Bewitched, and that's Nicole Kidman. Just stop!" The only time it works is when he's on screen with Kidman, and that's because she's looking amused and you can't help but feel the same way. And Nic? She's great. She's more human in this film than she's been since Moulin Rouge, and I loved her as Isabel/Samantha/What-The-Fuck-Is-This-Movie. She does her best to rise above the material but, ultimately, like everything else, she's wasted. And she's the star.

It's sad that perhaps my favorite parts of this film were the RENT trailer that was shown before and the Amy Sedaris cameo that popped up at the end.

The excellent Batman Begins bested Bewitched at the box office and rightfully so. Don't go see it and give this trainwreck any more money. Kidman and Ferrell will rebound, but maybe this will stop director Norah Ephron from making shitty movies that I can't help but go see.

(Anyone else happy that Herbie: Fully Loaded appears to have tanked? Maybe now Lohan will gain some weight and make The Parent Trap 2...)

Now that was a finale.

After disappointing season-enders from Desperate Housewives (if you're going to walk into the house, at least tell Zack you're his real dad and let us hear a gunshot!) and Lost (if you're going to open a fucking hatch, at least have a skeleton or a monkey -- or a skeleton-monkey -- climb out!) -- it was Alias, bouncing back from a stale fourth season, that took my breath away.

Good stuff throughout (and overall better effects than tonight's Lost) -- but that ending...! Man -- that's good television. I was gripping Duncan's leg and shouting at the tv as Michael Vartan talked, and I gasped loudly at that moment, truly surprised and scared, nearly jumping off the couch and having a heart attack (just like the one that didn't really kill Rex Van De Camp)!

Long live Irina. Amen.

I'm still reeling from tonight's two hour Alias event. It actually was an event! Two great episodes, highlighted by the return of the amazing Lena Olin. How hot was that bitch? So much good stuff! Glad this show got back on track in time for the finale.

I'm terrified for Year Five, however. The show's moving to Thursdays and Jennifer Garner is pregant with Affleck-Spawn. Is it headed for a horrible death?

Here's some suggestions to keep things fresh: Keep Irina and focus on family. Kill Vaughn (the only deadweight in tonight's episode) and ditch romance for a while. Keep Sloane evil. Bring back Will Tippin full-time (right, Euge?). Make Syd pregnant with Rambaldi's baby, and on the run from the CIA and cultists to keep it.

Next week's finale looks kick-ass. You ready?

George + cute baby = puddle of drool.

Yes, I have odd taste in men - but I am not the only one.

And, by god, download that Tegan & Sara song now! It's addictive -- even Duncan thinks so!

(cute baby + danger = sad)

I love this show.

The trailer for Serenity, Joss Whedon's big-screen directorial debut (based on his TV show which I have yet to see an episode of), debuted on Apple today.

I gotta say, it looks kinda good, if only because it features Anna Espinosa/Jasmine herself, Gina Torres, and Hottie McHott, Adam Baldwin (in addition to Buffy-Daddy, of course).

Adam is apparently not one of those Baldwins. He is, however, beautiful. And given the chance -- and the proper biology -- I would totally have, like, a million of his babies.

I am also into the total girl-power ass-kicking the girl does in this trailer. Pray Wonder Woman is this good!

Check out Serenity now! [Via AICN.]

How much did you love tonight's Desperate Housewives?

I loved it very, very, very much.

So much good stuff in there -- the little girl on the bike from earlier in the season, Mrs. Huber's creepy-ass sister, the fact that Zack is really a transvestite Dana... (Thanks, Yelli, for the earlier comment that I recieved while writing this post and stealing my thunder.)

And, of course, the Andrew-is-gay stuff (although, where is Ryan Carnes?) was fun. And, especially, the Gabrielle stuff -- so compelling! John's back! Who's the daddy? And how about those scenes from next week?

We are blessed by the television gods. Thank them for the small pleasures...

(PS - Did y'all catch the spot-on DH/Vanity Fair spoof over at towleroad? Hilarious!)

Serious questions here -- Did anybody notice if, in the first scene, the inexplicably-sexy George was wearing a UVM shirt? Anybody have it Tivo'ed? Please help!

I finally saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night, after wanting to see it for the better part of a year. I knew I would like it -- I love Charlie Kaufman's work, with Being John Malkovich ranking in my Top Ten movies, and I loved the concept of the movie and it's trailers -- but I didn't know I'd like it this much. It's been haunting me since I saw it -- concepts, themes, moments, lines, scenes -- they keep popping up. I cannot wait to see it again. And again.

Now that's a movie.

I'm deciding the reason I loved it so much is because it's so real. Yes, it's a quirky movie that revolves around a science-fictional brainwashing procedure and has lots of special effects -- but it gets love, real, true love. In this film, love is romantic and all-powerful, dark and dirty, dramatic and mundane, good and bad. Love is wonderful. And love is shit. Love is soulmates on ice. And love is chinese food on the couch.

Having all but erased my big ex, Joe, from my life, and sometimes thinking it would be easier just to dump and forget my current Duncan, the movie hit something. And I'm still digesting it to figure out exactly what.

Kaufman and co. deserved their Oscar, and Winslet deserved her nom. This is an excellent, beautiful film about how wonderfully flawed love is.

Nothing about Spanglish -- not the film itself, not the experience of seeing it -- sucked outright. But still...

Things with Duncan simmered down about half-way through our dinner at Quizno's, but until then, we hardly spoke to each other. Just enough for him to say, "The road's are bad," and me to reply, "We don't have to go then." But we still went and, as is part of the joy of living in Vermont, we nearly risked our lives on the snowy highway to drive to the theater. We were civil but short with each other until I discreetly pointed out a hot guy at another table. He was part of a foursome of sexy skiers, all college-aged, all still in some kind of ski gear -- but mine was the best. He had a nice, bright blue sweatshirt on. Lots of facial scruff. Some nice blue eyes. He was the shortest of the bunch, too. After I pointed him out to Dunc, the lines of communication seemed to be reopened, and we were back to normal.

So, yes, did I like the movie? I didn't dislike it, but I didn't love it. I hadn't read many glowing reviews, but one of my students told me it was the best film he'd seen all year. I'd assumed he meant 2004 but, in hindsight, maybe he meant '05. It would be my favorite film of the year, then, by default, as it's the only one I've seen thus far this year.

The acting is great. The story is good. There's some good, important (albeit very white-washed) stuff in there about culture, class, and race. It makes you laugh (rather, the trailers make you laugh, as practically all of the funny parts are spoiled in the ads) and, maybe, it makes you a little misty. But it lacks something. Oofmph. Za za zu. Nothing in Spanglish hit me, nothing that said, "Love me!" And so I remain lukewarm.

But there is a good message, somewhere in there, about communication. And about space. That was especially timely with my relationship that day.

So after the movie, we're in the car, waiting for it to warm up. He's just scrapped the windows. I turn to him.

I tell him, finally: "Don't ever walk out on me again."

"OK," he says. He's not giving me much. No eye-roll. No regret. He just complies.

"It's OK to walk away. To need a little space. To get away from me sometimes. But just say that. Don't ever just leave."

"OK." He's looking at me, and I can't read him. "Are we good?"

"We're good."

He puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking spot. As he goes to put it into first, I turn back to him.

"Kiss me."

He hesitates for one moment, and then he does. A tiny peck.

"Now drive away. I think some rednecks in that car saw us."

Saw Closer last night with Dunc. I fucking loved it. Beautiful people saying dirty things! Yes! But beyond all that "shocking" stuff, there is the Damien Rice song, and there is also something very true in this film, something about men, and sex, and jealousy, and love. I think Clive Owen's character, Larry, is simply brillant (and Clive Owen, himself, is just edible and amazing). In fact, I think I related very much to his monster of a man on screen. He is a caveman who can love, hate, fuck, be tender, be cruel, be a sex maniac, demand details, sob, and manipulate his way back into a relationship and then fuck with the guy who messed everything up.

Yeah, I saw a bit of myself in that.

Perhaps I am a man after all.

For my gift, I get to spend New Year's with him, in a hotel, in Boston. I'm surprised by this, and happy, too. Here's hoping it doesn't turn into a huge disaster. Fingers crossed, ok?

VH1 rocks. I thought I Love The 80s was amazing, but the new rounds of programming this channel is pumping out... my god, sheer brillance.

Screw music videos. Their original programming is just nutso pure pop culture pleasure. Best Week Ever... Motormouth... John Mayer Has a TV Show... Most Awesome Bad Songs...

Today I caught the new Mayer show, and also an ep of their "I Loved My High School" talking-head-fest -- which happend to be "The Gay Episode." Hysterical, honest, sometimes stereotypical and often universal, My Coolest Years: In The Closet was just suberb. It featured various "celebrities" like Survivor's Richard Hatch, Jonny McGoven (aka Gay Pimp), and Jill Sobule (ya know, the 90s song "I Kissed a Girl"?) talking very frankly about porn, first times, gym class, and various other teenage experiences. I'm sitting there watching, just sort of mouth gaping, shocked my the imagery and dirty talk, by the honesty, but the lack of censorship.

This isn't Queer Eye gay. This isn't five guys running around, mugging it up, playing it up for the straights without really pushing any buttons. This isn't just Carson making harmless, "witty" little comments about fashion and body odor. This is actually brave and, as much as a single episode of some little basic cable show can be, ground-breaking.

This is the oddly sexy Gay Pimp talking about being "faggoty," "jerking off" (with no bleeps!), and his first time "knocking on the gay door."

This is uber-annoying Ant (from "Last Comic Standing") talking about feeling up stoned straight guys at the movies.

This is beautiful Tammy Lynn Michaels (aka Mrs. Melissa Etheridge) talking about her first time in a gay bar and saying "Muff Diver" (with, sadly, a bleep).

This is real and true. I think it was the most honest gay thing I've ever seen on TV. Bravo, VH1!

People have be asking what I'm watching this fall. The answer: not a lot. But a couple new and returning shows have gained my fancy, and I'm sure I'd Tivo them if I had the technology. For now, I try to catch them weekly, but with the exception of the first two, none of them are desperate "appointment television."

I can't believe I am writing about any of this, let alone posting it on the internet.

Here's my current Top Five:

DEAD LIKE ME
I would pay $50 more a month for Shotime just to watch the goodness that is this show. The funniest thing on TV right now. Sad face that the season ends on Halloween. Boo.

DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES
Sure, it's only had one episode, but I'm quite frankly hooked. I'm just so happy that Teri Hatcher has work. I feel bad for Radio Shack, though.

LOST
New show from the "Alias" guy. Of course I'm watching. I like the show, but I'm waiting for it to really grip me. It's good, yeah, but draw me in. Make me care. I think the most engaged I've been with the show is when Matthew Fox was shirtless. I mean, GOD - he is so beautiful.

ONE TREE HILL
I love this show simply because it has no basis in reality. The storylines are so ridiculous and soapy, and yet they present them in the "real" way of such classics as "Dawson's Creek." It's a guilty pleasure - but it is nothing but pleasure. Plus, Gavin DeGraw does the theme.

LATE NIGHT WITH CONAN O'BRIEN
I've been staying up way late very regularly lately (I love that I don't start work until 10AM), so I've been tuning into NBC late night (after Adult Swim) pretty much daily. Conan pretty much rocks my world on a nightly basis, and I can't say that anybody, in TV land or the real world, can claim to do that. Kudos to Mr. O'Brien and his "Walker Texas Ranger" lever.

That's all I got. And, of course, Adult Swim.

There's too much sky, not enough blue
There's too many questions to why I love you
There's too many clouds, not enough sun
The rain must fall on everyone

Last night, Home Movies, one of my favorite TV shows and certainly one of the highlights of my week, aired its final new episode. I didn't know this until after the episode finished, and I felt overwhelmingly and pathetically sad. Sure, it's a cartoon. Sure, it's silly. But it's been a clever, amazingly smart silly, squiggly cartoon that has had an extremely excellent season. I think what upset me that most was its sudden, unexpectedness. I didn't have time to prepare.

The quiet passing of Home Movies just adds another loss to quality TV and, even sadder, to my life. My new love, Wonderfalls, was axed after just 4 quality episodes. Angel bows next month after five seasons, just one year after its sire, perhaps my favorite show ever, Buffy, went off the air. Friends, a show that premiered when I was a freshman in high school, and has been an odd constant in an often unstable life. I watched the first episode with my grandmother when I was 14. I watched many more episodes in college gathered with various friends. And I'm not sure where I'll be for the grand finale next month.

And, of course, my beloved Sex and the City. *snif* That loss still cuts deep.

I think Will & Grace just did an episode on this, where Jack and Karen mourn the loss of their favorite shows -- but I didn't really pay attention because that show will be back next year.

So I watch a lot of TV. And I feel loss for TV shows. Pathetic? Maybe. Have I become so superficially and shallow that these comedy and dramas have become my art, my friends, my life? Maybe a little. But I still am a senstive, sentimental schmuck, so there's some depth there.

See, I think that these feelings aren't about the TV shows. No, not really. They are something deeper. I do still have a soul. I attach sentimentality to each of these shows, and thus that's why I'm sad. Friends was once a weekly ritual for me and my best friends, a tradition that sadly passed away a few years ago. Sex and the City came to me in a time of need -- not only the post-9/11 world, but my early 20s coming of age with life and, more importantly, love. The characters became friends and helped me bond even better with my real life friends.

Home Movies, like most of Cartoon Network's late nightAdult Swim, has become a nightly ritual with me and Duncan. We watch Futurama and Family Guy at 11, almost every night we're together. And Home Movies had become the crown jewel of that routine, a highlight of quality Sunday Night Television. We could crack up and cuddle, and quote the show all week. It had been better than ever. And now it's over.

Here's where I go deep. I'm upset about Home Movies' end because I worry that my relationship might be headed towards the same fate, soon. And that scares me.

Things have always been tough for us. A closeted relationship is near, if not completely, impossible. And from the beginning, there have been ups and downs. But its always been worth it. There's always been a pay off. I've always, without a doubt, wanted to be with my man, and no one else. Since I feel in love with him, I've often doubted the relationship, but never, really, my love, never my desire, never my commitment to being with him.

But lately -- I don't know. Stuff has happened, and I hurt. Bad. And I don't know how to deal with some of that stuff. It's like not going away. I can usually talk through my feelings, solve my problems, but I just can't right now. I'm stressed at work, all my shows are over, and my relationship isn't working -- and I don't know how to fix it.

My resolution to recommit, to trust, to believe in him, its being tested big time. There's a point when belief becomes foolishness, when faith becomes blindness, when love can become unbearable heartache. There's a point when living in the moment becomes a rut, a defense, because you're too afraid to look ahead, to change, to be realistic. Am I at that point? I've been wondering that lately, and I'm not sure of the answer. I'm not sure if I'm being supportive or being used. I'm not sure if we're in a rough patch, or if we're over.

There's too much doubt and not enough dare
There's too much decision everywhere
There's too much talk and not enough time
Let's close our eyes and not our minds

But last night -- last night was nice. We had a nice homemade dinner. Watched TV and hung out together. And everything was good. Everything was just as I wanted. I could ignore the future and have a good time. Be with him and be happy -- something I hadn't truly felt in a couple weeks. I felt better, I felt like everything was back to normal, healed. I was myself again -- not so hurt, not so confused -- and he was too -- nice, respectful -- and we were us, same as ever -- in our little relationship, in our little love.

But, by the harsh light of day, everything seems to creep back to the surface. All the bad stuff could be ignored in the dark, but in the day, I have to take it as part of the whole, mix it in with the good. And with that mix, I have to decide what to do -- try and salvage it, sweeten it, or chuck it out? I get the feeling he doesn't want out, so it's up to me. FUCK.

So, yeah, we're back to "You're The Ocean." Teitur. Good shit. Fitting.

You look for leads, I follow clues
You love to win, I dare to lose
Mostly you're a mind game in my head
You are earth, I am water
I can give you what you're after
You can be the word...I can be the rhyme...

He needs me, and that's always been enough. But what about my needs, my wants? And what does he really want? Words -- questions -- that's what this relationship's been about from day one. But he was the one who saved me from myself, from my darkness, over a year ago - but who's gonna to save me, and us, now?

Are we just in an angsty rough patch, or are we nearing the end? One thing's for sure - we're gearing up for one hell of a season - if not series - finale. Is it better to go out on top, like Seinfeld, to leave everybody wanting more? Do you change up the formula, spin-off into something new and different, like Fraiser? Or should you stick it out for a couple more seasons to see if it can work? That sometimes works (The Practice) and sometimes its heartbreaking (X-Files).

I'm talking in TV terms. I'm a geek, yes. But I'm no TV exec. I'm not one to make these kind of decisions. I don't want to live with the consequences. I'm too afraid to making the wrong choice. Where's the story going to lead me?

To paraphrase my TV alter-ego, Sammy: He has meant more to me than any man I've ever known.

I love him. I just don't know what to do.

There's really nothing you can do
You're going where I'm going too
Stay beside me, stay beside me
I want you

I did laundry today, for the first time since February 1st. Isn't that cool? I officially have enough underwear to last me a month and a half. I am a god amongst men.

So today officially ends Spring Break for all the Groovy UV kids. Which means tomorrow is back to life, back to reality. I enjoyed this week of laid-back work and home, having extra time to goof off at work and to spend QT with Dunc at home. I look forward to seeing those students that are a regular part of my life and whom I actually like -- but I am not looking forward to the status quo.

I've really enjoyed having the past two Friday nights off. Not that I've done anything eventful. It was just nice not to be doing events til after midnight. Plus, I've gotten into Wonderfalls, which is just an amazing new show, and anyone who is home at 9PM on a Friday night should tune to Fox because, goddamn it, its sweet. I think that even if you aren't home then, you should go home or at least get to a TV and turn it on. It's that good!

Spring Break was a nice break for me, even if I didn't really do much of anything. My big plans to go to both Boston and Montreal were sadly scrapped last minute. But it was nice to rest and catch up, because lord knows the next six weeks will be hell. Events every Friday night until May and TONS AND TONS of design work to do. I look forward to the peace and quiet that I'm promised come with summer.

Goddamn it, I'm a geek. Want to know how I know? The song today is Andy Partridge's "I Wonder Why the Wonder Falls" which, you guessed it, is the extended theme song of my new favorite show.

Tomorrow - back to the grind. Until then - Home Movies!

Sex and the City is over.

And I am pathetic. But I didn't cry.

To know me is to love SATC -- or at least know that I love it. The show for me, like many gay men 'round the world, has been the bestest of the bestest over the past six years (or since 2001, when I started buying the DVDs and obsessively watching the show). A phenomenon that has touched us, tickled us, and truly entertained. Almost every one of the 94 episodes, a classic. Blah-dity-blah. You get the idea. I love the show. And I could go on and on about its fabulous-ness for days and days.

But ya know what? I didn't shed a tear for the end of Sex -- neither the actual final episode nor the end of this era. But it all sure did affect me.

So it made sense for me to go to Boston to watch the Grand Finale. I needed to be around friends for this milestone. I had to share it with someone I loved and who loved the show as much as I. So, of course, obviously, I picked Yelli.

It was good to be back in Boston, and for the most part, I had an awesome weekend. I made the mistake of spending Friday night in what I call "Boys' Town" -- a.k.a. the closest thing Boston has to a gay ghetto, which has become my once-best-bud, Tommy. It's sad to see how far he's sunk -- everything in his life revolves around his homosexuality, and not in a positive way. Gay sex, gay drugs, and gay rock n roll -- scratch that, that's actually techno, dance clubs, and "fashion" instead of RnR. Even sadder, perhaps, is that I was having a good time for some of the night. The bar/club we went to was OK in places and I ran into my infamous Mr. Big-Mistake, Adam, a man whom I had shared a brief but intense connection with last summer.

It was amazing to see Adam again, and I felt an instant reconnection. And an instant confusion, which was characteristic of our "involvement" last year, when me and Duncan were briefly not together. See, Mr. Big-Mistake is everything that Duncan isn't -- confident, comfortable, stable, successful, out, etc etc. And he's, apparently, wicked into me. And so, that Friday night at Machine, I was back in full-torn mode, torn between the man I love and the man I think maybe I could love. But it's more complicated now. Duncan and I are now over a year into it, and getting potentially more serious. And Adam has his own boyfriend these days, who he seems truly happy with. So we drank and talked, and he confessed how much I hurt him last summer, and I felt truly horrible, and it became an odd, odd situation.

And he kissed me.

Oh fuck, he kissed me. And it was good. Electric. And for a second, everything made sense. And then suddenly, it didn't. I was more confused than ever. But one sobering thought came into my mind. I love Duncan. I could love Adam, but I do love my guy now. And I'm with him. And Adam's with his guy. And it's too complicated and too many people would get hurt. And this can't happen. Because...

I think I became suddenly drunker then, as the rest of the evening is a blur. Tommy was off scoring drugs in bathrooms or something. Adam and I talked and argued, and tried not to kiss. And then the club closed, and I was literally stuck between a cab with Tom, headed back to his place, and a super-cute looking Adam, offering not sex, but friendship.

And I picked the cab.

And in the cab, I foolishly took an Aspirin from Tom because I had a headache. And I don't remember much else.

I'm still processing my night in Boys' Town. I'm not entirely sure what happened, and I'm not sure I want to know. But, hey, it was like a very special episode of my own TV show, Gay Sex in the Mountains. I learned a lesson. Boys' Town is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Or go back anytime too soon.

So... back to Sex and the City. The show, not the sketchiness of Friday night.

The rest of my weekend of so much fun with Yelli. We went to Ned Divine's for dinner and drinking on Saturday night. And there was an fantastic (and semi-cute) little Irish guy that was singing covers. AND HE SANG DAMIEN RICE! And Yelli and I were singing along, the only fools who knew the song. It still rocked.

Sunday came and went. As did the finale. I won't say much except it was some kind of amazing. We watched it at Page's beautiful new house with Lauren, and it was an alright venue for it all to go down. Yelli and I clutched each other, and us four girls"squealed and screamed through the final 45 minutes of the best show on TV.

I left Malden and headed home on a Vermont Transit. And I already miss it desperately.

On another random subject: I thought a lot about my estranged friend Dan, with all the hype surrounding Carrie's swan song. I think more than any of my friends, the show was a central part of our friendship. Right after 9/11, Dandy and I bonded over the DVD boxed sets and had a pretty great friendship -- before I flaked out and ruined everything.

I miss him.

Song? Let's go with Gary Jules' cover of "Mad World." Why? Because it's very apropos right now. I'm not entirely clear what apropos means in English or in this context, but I feel like it's the word I want to use, just as this is the song I want to go with.

I knew "Mad World" from Tears for Fears, but in the past few weeks, this cover has popped up in various places in my life. At the Ohio conference. On my iTunes. And on popular radio in Boston, which was perhaps the most surprising of all. I was happy to hear it in Yelli's car, and to hear that both her and Sean enjoyed it (I'm sure by the time this is read, they'll already be sick of it due to overplaying). It made me miss being in Malden with them, being in the "know" with all the good music before it's ruined.

Fuck. How the hell doth one wrap up such a long and spanning journal entry? I'm gonna be gay and go for the obvious.

Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

With goose-bumps. That's how.