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SASHA(Y)S FORWARD, 2 STEPS BACK? brüno.
OK,
I just couldn't go any lower with that picture of him—nor
could I do it to you. (You can send thanks
here.) So, anyway, brüno comes out on Friday. Much like
the poor saps he dupes into being on-camera with him, I too am not
sure what to expect. I suspect I will feel pretty much what I felt
during Borat: shock, amazement, bellyaching laughter, and
then right back to horror, with a small sprinkling of sympathy for
the unwitting folks pulled onscreen. Of course, this new film has
the potential to hit much closer to home, doesn't it? No longer will
he be misrepresenting Outer Slobovia, now he might end up
misrepresenting us. But, then again, if he helps to expose
others as prejudiced, then maybe that is good? Maybe? I don't know
anymore. This is all too Northampton a discussion, really. Sometimes
I miss the good ol' days when everything wasn't dissected and
labeled and politicized, when I could just watch something purely
for the sheer entertainment of it, laughing loud and free at
whatever I found funny because, well, it was. (local
theaters)
— your humble monoho webmaster
JULY 9, 2009
THIS
JUST INN:
some new cafes to check out.
OK, I know we're talking about cafes, not inns, but c'mon: a
little slack, please. Anyway, out and about in my travels
recently I have discovered a few new cafes. This only confirms for
me—once again—the
completely underrated benefits of global warming. You simply do not
go out and explore your world when it is cryogenically cold out: you
cash in your stash of Big Y coins for a large cheese pizza, curl up
with your Sony flatscreen, and watch Dancing with the Stars.
(When you consider that the New World was discovered by Columbus
staring icily at the Pole, saying "fuck that," and aiming his fleet
for the tropics you will see the irrefutability of my point.)
Anyway, the places I have recently stumbled upon:
Mosaic Cafe, Masonic Street, Northampton, MA.
On my way to Woodstar one day, after happily surviving
haircut-roulette at Bucci's, I walked by that run of small houses
and businesses on Masonic and thought that something looked
different: namely that there was one more cafe on the street than
there was a week ago. Sometimes I can be uncannily observant.
Anyway, I stopped in to grab a menu, learned it was their first day
in existence (that explains it), and was pleasantly surprised by
what I saw: though small from the outside, there are a good number
of tables within, and—much more
important, at least as far as Northampton is concerned—there
was a good handful of tables outside. Not on the sidewalk,
mind you. On an actual terrace. No longer will you have to
sip your coffee while one eye scans the immediate horizon for that
guy with the one sandal and the three strings on his guitar. Mosaic
Cafe handily inserts a wooden rail between you and the rest of the
world ... well, at least as long as you still have coffee in your
cup, that is.
The Dam Cafe, Northampton Street, Holyoke, MA
So
new that it doesn't even show up on Google's "street view" yet, The
Dam Cafe came into view the other day as I missed the entrance
for I-91 South, said screw it, and decided to off-road it to the
Holyoke Mall. I had to actually turn around in a Dollar Store
parking lot half a mile down the road and go back to see what I
thought I saw but couldn't possibly believe: a totally gay-aesthetic
coffee shop in the heart of nowhere Holyoke. (Across the street is
an aging public school and next door is a an old-timey barber shop,
just to
give you an idea.) Anyway, I pulled up and got out of my car. It was
not a mirage: there it still was, a totally gay-aesthetic coffee shop. I went in and it
was all there, the funky chairs and dark wood tables, the coffee bar
with hand-made baked goods, the soft warm light that hides all hair
loss. The only thing missing was the gays. Of course, I caught the
place on the first night they had ever stayed open past 5 pm.
(They've been open a month, I learned, by peppering the barista with
lots of
questions.) In the corner sat one hip girl with a laptop, writing
her dissertation, or tweeting—who can tell
anymore. So I ordered my obligatory coffee and wandered
around the open space, as agog as a Serbian refugee in a Lexus
dealership. The barista, perhaps sensing my mini-wanderlust, told me
there was a patio out back as well, which I then felt compelled to
confirm. Like a hologram sent by beneficent beings from the future,
I could suddenly see this place in all of its potential glory: a warm summer
night, lit by pastel paper lanterns, packed with gays sipping their
cinnamon-tinis and tossing scathing remarks around like little pink
hand-grenades. I asked the counterperson if they had a website yet:
nope. An email list? Still nope. A schedule of coming
events, of live music? Working on it. As a parting note, the
barista offered that she thought—maybe—that
they might have a facebook page, but she couldn't quite confirm
with actual certainty. I get it, you don't know. But anyway, I sure
do hope they get it together, because this place could be the start
of something great. It could be the birth of Sonoho—South
of Noho, or Hoyo, or some other crazy business.
— your humble monoho webmaster
JUNE 17, 2009
A Room with a View:
The Connecticut Gay & Lesbian Film Festival
I always know another year has come around somehow when I see (once
again) that it is the week of the
Connecticut Gay
& Lesbian Film Festival, held at
Trinity College in Hartford, CT. Like many
other things in life, this event inspires in me both a sense of
possibility and of guilt. I know you can buy a weeklong pass, and
this always sounds like such a great idea—feet up, watching gay
movies all week, getting sick on Junior Mints—but somehow it just
never quite works out. I make it to one film ... maybe two and a
half. (They show shorts as well.) I usually make my appearance on
either the opening weekend or the closing one, when there is the
enticing likelihood of the biggest bestest crowds. I don't know why,
but I am excited almost as much by spotting that new special someone
in the wide sea of gays as I am by the films themselves.
But anyway, I have always really liked the
CT G&L
Film Fest. Most films I've seen there have been quite good—although
last year I guess it was me against every film critic on Earth,
because I really really didn't like Were the World Mine
(the fest's 2008 feature film), and apparent everyone else thought
it was brought down from Pink Heaven by Gay Jesus.
But, anyway, I have a movie bias regardless, and I have always
enjoyed going: not knowing what you are gonna see, watching
interesting/ artistic/emotional/poorly-shot/highly-visual/disturbing/engrossing short films before the feature, and then
settling in for whatever the feature turns out to be ... again,
usually a good one. During the intermission they always have a
silent auction out in the lobby, benefiting something or other. But
most times I do not trouble myself with such matters. I just make
sure I high-tail it to the crowded restroom as quickly as possible
and then spend my remaining ten minutes scanning the crowd for new
and interesting faces. Anyway, that's just me. You are perfectly
free, every year, to show up and make the event all your own.
— your humble monoho webmaster
MAY 21, 2009
Pride, In the Name of _____?
I don't think I am entirely alone in this when I say: Pride was
great, but what was it, really?
Now, before you go get all riled up and email me about the good
works all these community groups are doing (which I know they are),
just give a listen,
read
on ...
— your humble monoho webmaster
MAY 7, 2009
On TV: Kenneth Branagh (look, but don't touch)
Kenneth Branagh is my secret backpocket husband, the one I will dial
up one day, when all of us are old and gray and that endless string
of May-December romances are just a fading—but
well-documented—Facebook nightmare.
Though I never been much of an expert, he is like a fine wine to me:
better with ... no one else around to share with.
Anyway, apparently he has chosen to be highly productive while
awaiting the day that we spend the rest of our lives together,
tending to our beachfront property in Antigua. (Cleverly, we will
have separate huts, just to throw off the press.) So I guess what I
am here to tell you is that my FH is in a new show on PBS: a
three-part miniseries about a rumpled but gorgeous inspector hunting
down a serial killer in Sweden ... which is hell on your sleep
cycle, by the way, and would make anyone looked rumpled.
See how you would hold up, Brad Pitt. So that's that. I am just
very proud of all his hard work and I really want people to see it.
You can send all plaudits, congratulations, and cash awards to
askmonoho@gmail.com. I will
pass them on to my Kenny-Ken.
Watch Wallander this Sunday on PBS, the latest offering from
Masterpiece Mystery. Check local listings.
Click here for more info.
— your humble monoho webmaster
MAY 7, 2009
Make Lust, Not War
Opening
this Friday is the new movie,
Fighting. All I know is I saw the
commercial and had the closest thing to a psychic vision I will ever
have: I suddenly knew with Nostradamus-like certainty where every
single gay guy will be this weekend. My good friend the internet
tells me that this movie's young star, Channing Tatum, is a former
Abercrombie & Fitch model. Well, that explains it. Anyway, it opens
Friday. I have no personal interest in this movie (it's not like the
movie is called Bear Fighting or anything) but I know the
rest of you will all be staring slack-jawed in the dark. Wait, how
is that different from any other weekend?
— your humble monoho webmaster
APRIL 22, 2009
The New Face of Fierce
Is
it just me, or are the History and Discovery Channels the new Bravo? Dunno about you, but I
am so beyond the breathlessly tuning in to Bravo every week, either
to see Runway, or Top Chef, or—god—remember Kathy Griffin, who was
always really great, but, like, what happened?
Anyway, I'm not terribly interested
in analyzing the death-spiral of a once-great cable channel (which
sadly assumed that the gays can be pandered to). I have instead
decided to embrace life, albeit a much hunkier version of it. Move over
Christian Siriano, here's something meatier ...
Exhibit A: Don Wildman, History of the Underworld, History
Channel
Yes,
Don, I know you have your career to think of, but haven't we all
agreed by now that love is the most important thing in life? Marry
me first and work out the career snags later. Gays, if
you haven't met my future ex-husband, then tune in to watch him
force his hunky self through lots of dark passages. "Rough and tumble" is a
handy phrase here because it describes not only his amazing look but
also what I hope he will do to me in the first 5 minutes we meet ...
Exhibit B: Terry Schappert, Warriors, History Channel
OK, guys, while Don
Wildman and I are paragliding over
the ruins of Cuzco, saying our vows, the rest of you can fight over this one: Terry Schappert of a new show called Warriors. There's less of an
endorsement here because I personally haven't seen the show, only the
commercial, but who cares. His image was reason enough to include
him here. (Please refer to the picture
above—I rest
my case.) Anyway, he is an ex-military guy who explores warriors
through the ages, blah, blah, blah,
whatever—just
watch.
Exhibit C: Bear Grylls, Man vs. Wild, Discovery Channel
Sure,
he's English, and a black belt, and a survival expert, but let's just overlook all that for the sake of simply looking at him. He seems
like a nice enough guy, very charming and affable, but he makes up
for this otherwise tragic boringness by
slipping out of his clothes
enthusiastically and often ... though he only ever does this
when his absolute survival is at stake. (Sure.) But, come now, let's not worry so much
about the 'why?' —let's just focus
instead on the 'when will he do it again?'
Exhibit D: Mike Rowe, Dirty Jobs, Discovery Channel
Yeah,
I know he's not a new discovery, his show's been on a few years now.
But that's OK, he still belongs on the list. He's charming, he's
funny, he's hunky, and he's got that deep radio voice. Basically, he
is that big brother you always wanted but never had, which is just
as well, 'cause now you can think all those thoughts you are having,
guilt-free.
Exhibit E: Les Stroud, Survivorman, Discovery Channel
He
is one of my slow-burn faves. Like a backwoods Kenneth Branagh—but
without any of that annoying Shakespearean posturing, or the tights. Although,
truth be told, Les
can become a wee bit completely unbearable when he
whips out his harmonica and starts sawing away. But that's OK, I just turn down the volume
and, well ... (insert 'whip out' joke here). You might also need to take
a spare moment to look away during his occasional random bouts of survivalistic bug-eating. Definitely a turn-off.
Exhibit F: Dave Salmoni, (somewhere out there!)
Umm...
last
but not friggin' least! Why in the hell has no one told me
about him? Who is he? Where did he come from? Why haven't we erected
a big Saddam Hussein-like statue to him out on the tip of
Provincetown? These are questions I need answers to. But still, I
can't blame you, he
is a bit of a mystery on the web: it
seems
he has been on a number of outdoorsy shows, most of which—inexplicably—are
no longer running. So, technically, I have never seen this guy
"live" on television. But that's OK, because there is video of
him. (Thank you, Internet.) Just
click here to watch what might be
the closest thing to lovingly-shot porn I have ever seen on a nature
show. OK, people, let's all work on this one together. We need to
find out right now what show he is currently on, create a
Jonestown-like cult—without the
suicides—and then dedicate the rest of our lives to watching TiVo
shots of him, over and over again.
— your humble monoho webmaster
APRIL 8, 2009
Yay!
Slumdog could have taken all the awards it wanted, I don't care (see
Lord of the Rings, like, 5 years ago), but if Sean Penn didn't win I
think I'd be sitting in a folding chair staring at a blank wall
right now. But thanks to the whims of the Oscar gods (plus a few
million dollars in advertising), David managed to beat Goliath—and by Goliath I of course mean Mickey Rourke. Also, the young gay
Mormon-raised Dustin Lance Black won for best original screenplay,
and both he and Sean made some beautiful speeches, and by beautiful
I of course mean speaking out for the gays to an audience of billions. Anyway, we got best story and best (male) performance. The
rest is just window dressing if you ask me.
— your humble monoho webmaster
FEBRUARY 23, 2009
This one goes out ... to the one we love.
That's
right: Oscar. He's bald, brooding, broad-shouldered ... and he can make
or break a career. Talk about a
power-daddy.
Anyway, on February 22 the
Academy Awards are a' comin'!
I know, I
know, critics are saying you better hit the snooze bar this year
because this is not the best competition ever, but still, it's the
Academy Awards. If nothing else, watch the E! pre-show so you can
laugh appreciatively later when the girls from
Go Fug Yourself
julienne and deep-fry all the red carpet Oscar-dress choices.
But, side-dishing aside, let's get to the meat of it: I
really really want Penn to Milk Oscar for all he's worth. (Yes, I
know the photo above is Javier Bardem, not Sean Penn, but,
seriously, have you seen Vicki Christina Barcelona? Rent it now.
Javier should win an Oscar just for Heart-stopping Handsomeness. Is
that even a category? 'Cause it should be.)
But anyway we all know that Mickey Rourke is the favored
comeback kid, blah blah blah, but he better not win. I mean, just
because his big mess of a life has been put up on an even bigger
screen we're gonna reward
him for it?!
Anyway, get out the popcorn and put the pugs to bed
early. It's gonna be a long night!
— your humble monoho webmaster
FEBRUARY 14, 2009
Grammys, schmammys.
OK,
I know the Grammys are on tonight and we are all supposed to be very
impressed and excited (what gay doesn't love a good awards show?)
but as I was putzing around today—cleaning the house, working on the website, and making turkey
meatloaf—I happened upon a marathon
of a show on the Travel Channel: Mark & Olly, two gorgeous aussies
(or brits or whatever), trekking around in the jungle and living
with whatever native villagers they encounter.
Let me tell you, I
was trying to get things done today, but my intentions were pretty
much held at gunpoint as they led up to the episode where the guys had to go
through a male rite of passage, wearing only their penis sheaths.
(And, since we're giving out awards tonight, I would like to give
one the Travel Channel for not pixelating anything!)
Now, I am sure we could have a healthy debate
about which guy is cuter, but it's really kinda moot because Olly is
mine. Oh, so anyway, I guess they are starting a new season tonight,
opposite the Grammys—good luck, fellas! (But with
episodes like the ones I saw today, you will not need it.)
Mark & Olly on the Travel Channel.
— your humble monoho webmaster
FEBRUARY 8, 2009
What you have done for me, Lately.
I
am an idiot.
For about a year now, channel surfing late at night, I would flip by
Chelsea's show and go, "what the hell is this?" She always seemed to
be interviewing someone in front of this horizontally-scrolling
cityscape, like you were touring L.A. at night by helicopter. I
found it dizzying and annoying and simply moved on. Plus (sorry Chelsea) but—first
impression—you looked tired and
haggard, like a partying-past-her-prime RMV worker who can't figure out where all here better days have gone.
But, something magical happened, Chelsea. I started watching you.
I get it now, you're brilliant. OK, you're horrifically crass, but
still. And it seems you have been
through a wringer or two in your day ... but instead of grinding you
down, it seems to have honed your wit into a very fine
point. You sit there, interviewing the worst of them—all the
trotted-out dregs of reality TV—and, even though it appears you
are helping promote their shows, instead you are roasting them live on national television. And the best part is
they don't even know it.
Plus, I get to keep up with all the latest gawking gossip about
Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson and Madonna, as you sit with your
nightly panel of comics (sometimes topless, which I have to admit I
still don't get). Anyhow, a breath a fresh arrived on the scene two
years ago, and I'm only glad that I finally caught on.
Check it out: Chelsea Lately is on E! just about every night of the
week at 11:30 pm.
— your humble monoho webmaster
JANUARY 14, 2009
