Actual notes from my journal while vacationing in Silver Beach, MI, September 6-15

The seagulls on the beach - I'm on the beach! - seem grumpy. They'll walk right up to you and not care. They're so over humans. They're like the pigeons in Chicago that way. That and I saw one seagull shoot another seagull and then dump its body in the lake.



Conversation with myself while laying on the beach:
Me: "Hell would be having to count every grain of sand on every beach in the world."
Myself: "But then you'd get to be on beaches all over the world!"
Me: "No. It's Hell. They'd bring the sand to you."
Myself: "But that would take forever."
Me: "Exactly."



The sand is hard and bumpy when laying on it. If this was my bed, I'd be pissed. But it's sand! On a beach! So it's great!!!



It's always the wrong guys who keep their shirts on at the beach.



How does a seagull's skinny, spindly legs support its whole, plump body? And why do they balance on one leg when they could use both? It's like they're a...one-legged...seagull. Or something.



With the light behind them, the cresting waves are darker than the rest of the water and look like night. But then sometimes, with their blue streaks, they look like clouds rolling against a moon-lit sky. Just for a second.



Note to self: St. Joseph basically shuts down at 9p. Plan on eating before then. A take-out container of honey garlic chicken from Chan's Garden (not one single veggie!) does not a dinner make.



I'm going to try to write a story this morning but first I have to point out that so far, within five minutes of walking on the beach, I saw a good-looking, apparently straight guy suntanning in powder blue Speedos next to his girlfriend in a matching bikini AND a woman sweeping the beach with a metal detector. Where am I? An '80s comedy? Where's Andrew McCarthy? Also seen: lots of monarch butterflies.



The thin, white, rippling crests on the waves look like gloved fingers playing piano.



Note: this is the third time I've heard Michael Buble's "Feelin' Good" in 2 days.



I just realized I don't know the difference between corn kernels and popcorn kernels? WTF? Is there a difference? I can't believe I don't know.



Eating a pumpkin doughnut on a sunny beach. Thank you, September.



I wonder if that's the same monarch butterfly I keep seeing hovering over the water. Is it trying to go somewhere? Is it trying to leave Silver Beach to make a better life for itself somewhere else? I've never seen a butterfly flutter around water so much. It almost looks like it's scavenging for food. I'd love to see a dainty little monarch butterfly dip into the water and emerge clutching a fish 10 times its size. But it's like it's trying to get somewhere and then gets tired and comes back. "Next time," it tells itself. "Next time I'll really show Mom and Dad that I'm serious about flying away."

Or maybe it thinks it's a seagull, or at least wants to be one. It does seem to fly over them a lot as they sit on the beach in groups (or balance on one leg. Seriously, why?). Maybe it's confused or unhappy with its lot in life. I picture it flying around, trying to ingratiate itself to the indifference birds. "Hey guys! What's up? What's new? Catch any good fish today? Yeah, me neither."

I've Lost Half the Year and Half of My Mind (Duh Duh Duuuuuh...)

Whoa. Remember way back in January when I said I was taking time off from blogging but I'd still check in every once in a while with updates, thoughts, etc. Yeah, now it's...August. How did that happen? Where did this year go? All these questions are making me feel stoned.

Anyway, I caught a commercial the other day for Bonnie Hunt's upcoming talk show, shockingly titled "The Bonnie Hunt Show." How much do I love her? This is a perfect idea as Hunt is as funny, sarcastic and down-to-earth as when she's talking to David Letterman or little kids. Who knows how long this show will last but just seeing this commercial made me start compiling a list of other things I'm excited about right now. Other things such as:

- The new music video for "Warcwick Ave." by Duffy, a beautiful song sung by a new, up and coming singer with a great voice. The video is so simple and so touching in its lack of polish. It's light years above the generic singing-to-a-crowd video for her first single, the great "Mercy," so hopefully her record company realizes Duffy deserves a little something more.

- Out magazine's article, "Has Manhunt Destroyed Gay Culture?" In exploring not only why Manhunt.com, the most popular gay male website for, uh, "connecting," has gotten so popular, but what it has taken away from gay culture, writer Michael Joseph Gross has written a surprisingly compelling argument for logging off instead of getting off. Even more, the news that one of Manhunt's founders, Jonathan Crutchley, has donated thousands of dollars to anti-gay Republican presidential nominee John McCain has ignited such fury from Manhunt's subscribers that he's been forced to resign as Chairman. Granted, he'll still be raking in millions and probably still donate it to McCain, but in this age of Web 2.0, it's an inspiring reminder for writers like myself of the power of print journalism.

- The fact that "Project Runway" has finally gotten better. Season 5 has seriously been lacking with the challenges (recycling the grocery store challenge was fine, but then recycling the take-a-photo-in-NY-and-use-as-inspiration challenge? That wasn't even very exciting the first time!) and with talent (no one has really stepped out as a consistent bad-ass designer the way Kara Saun or Michael Knight did in their respective seasons). But when they had to design a day-and-night business outfit for Brooke Shields to wear on her nighttime drama "Lipstick Jungle," the results were exactly as they should be. The top 2 contenders were surprisingly great and the bottom two were heinous and laughable. The best of both worlds!

- Pineapple salsa. It's sitting in my fridge, right now, waiting to be piled on top of grilled jerk chicken for dinner tonight. Just sitting there, with its cucumber and mint and lime, calling my name, whispering, "Donny...Donny, you know you want to eat me...come on...there's plenty extra...I'm so sweet and crunchy...Just scoop me up in a spoon and eat me. Spoon me, Donny, spooooon meeeee." Ok, that just got weird. But whatevs. Between that and the quarter of a watermelon that I ate by myself a few weeks ago and the margarita that I had with ravioli - yes, ravioli! - when the in-laws visited, I'm loving summertime food. I just need some grilled corn and I'll be all set. I wonder if pineapple salsa tastes good on ravioli?

- Jamie Lidell. Love him. If you haven't heard of him, watch this. Or this. Or just go buy his albums Multiply and Jim because his brand of neo-soul pop is infectious.

- St. Joseph, MI. I'm heading there for 10 days in September. Not only is the train ride under two hours and a fraction of the cost of a plane ticket to anywhere, I found a great deal at a nice hotel that's downtown and right by the beach. It's close, it's cheap, it's beautiful, and my sweetie will be joining me for the second weekend for our first and only vacation this whole year. Thank you, staycation!



I'm sure there's more but that's what's occupying my time right now. Summer's almost done so I'm just hoping to make the most of it. And hopefully it won't be summer 2009 before I blog again, but knowing me, that's not out of the question.

So, yeah...

I obviously haven't been blogging in a while. Over a month, in fact. Something clicked when I started thinking about what I want to do in 2008. I realized I want to write more, but not just for my blog. I want to write bigger and better, dedicating more of my energy to submitting to magazines. Maybe even working on a larger project that's both quieter and more demanding than blogging and magazines, writing a book. So I realized something had to give and that something, for now, is this blog.

After two and some years of always thinking/worrying about what my next post is going to be about, after dedicating entire weeknights or even weekends to put together a post that, quite frankly, not a lot of people read, I decided that I've done it and I'm done with it. I've tried it, I've had my ups and downs with it, I've written posts that I'm really proud of and posts that I'd go back and delete if I was that kind of blogger. Some posts even helped lead to a freelancing gig which has lead to a permanent staff position with a magazine I really like and respect and really, what more can you ask than that?

And you know what? So far it feels great. After sitting in front of a computer all day at my regular job, I can come home and not sit in front of a computer all night if I don't want to. I can cook! I can bake! I can watch TV! I can have dinner with friends! I can work out! So many not-really-exciting-but-
exciting-for-me-because-let's-face-it-I've-been-blogging
-for-over-two-years-and-I-have-low-standards-for-what-
I-consider-exciting activities!!!

Notice what wasn't on that list of activities I can indulge in now that I'm not blogging? Writing. The funny thing is with all this new time on my hands I haven't exactly gotten around to doing the things I gave up blogging for in the first place. But we're now, what, 3 weeks into the new year? I can enjoy myself for a while, right? Plus, have you seen the new American Gladiators? It's pretty awesome.

Some people started blogging a long time before I did and are still going. I think that's great. Some people didn't blog nearly as long as I did before giving it up. I laugh in their faces. And I'm not saying I'm giving it up for a good, anyway. Just for now. Who knows? Maybe after three months or six months or a year I'll be clamoring to bust out a bunch of new posts on the latest pop culture shenanigans. I still haven't finished blogging about making all 125 (127?) recipes in Giada De Laurentiis' Everyday Italian even though it's been, um, quite some time since I started that project. So maybe when that happens I'll have to blog about it for closure and, you know, evidence. (If a virtual text few people read actually counts as evidence that I finished a project.)

The point is: I may pick this back up again, I may not. Who knows what the future holds besides God and Kanye West? In the meantime, here are a few of the things that I'll be doing/reading/consuming/eating whilst not blogging:

Reading Project Rungay - The best way to keep up with Bravo's addictive reality competition and enjoy the witticisms, snark and dead-on fashion critiques of Tom & Lorenzo. Project Runway's 4th season may not be its best (Oh my dear Lord, Ricky has to leave), but this blog makes it a lot more enjoyable.

Reading Janet Xone - With Miss Jackson's latest album, Discipline, hitting shelves on February 26th, this is really the best way to know about all the news, performances, reviews and stories concerning Janet. And if you haven't checked out her latest video for "Feedback," click here. Watch it more than once - it grows on you, especially once the killer choreography kicks in.

Eating Aromatic Noodles with Lime-Peanut Sauce - Part of the reason I've put Giada's Italian cookbook aside is because I picked up fellow Food Network host Ellie Krieger's latest book, The Food You Crave. So far the Pumpkin Muffins, Energy Bars, Baked Onion Rings with Ranch Dip, Vanilla Hot Chocolate and Whole Wheat Pancakes with Strawberry Sauce have all been great and healthy (another New Year's resolution). I loooove me some Asian peanut sauces because I basically love anything with peanut butter, so I'm thinking this recipe from Ellie will make me silly happy.

Using my new Netflix account - I just started my subscription and finally watched 2005's An Inconvenient Truth. Next up is the new, Oscar-nominated documentary No End in Sight. I'm going to be so smrt, s-m-r-t!

Reading Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach - After reading Roach's Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, I've been dying (no pun intended, especially because it's not a very good pun) to read her follow-up. If she explores the soul with as much humor, eye-opening research and intelligence as she did corpses, then the wait will have been worth it.

Rooting for Atonement at the Oscars - I just saw it and am hoping it wins something big, even though I haven't seen There Will Be Blood yet. Seriously, this adaptation of the Ian McEwan novel (which I really liked) is gorgeous, well-acted and, to employ a cliché, heartbreaking. Knowing the general rule that the movie is never as good as the book, I was surprised to fall in love with this movie so much. Even though it drags in the middle (just like the book), I couldn't help but completely buy into the whole production. And it has James McAvoy looking adorable and delivering a fantastic performance? Done and done. Dear Striking Writers, The Oscars better take place so I can see Mr. McAvoy in a tux. Sincerely, Me.

Well, that's it for now. Enjoy.

Take care.

Goodbye?

Let It Snow, Man

When I was in the third grade, my class huddled into our classroom on a frosty December night. We were waiting to march single-file to the auditorium where we'd sing in our school's annual holiday concert. (Although I think back then they were still actually called Christmas Concerts.) To placate the rowdy group while we killed time, our teacher, Mrs. Handiwerk (I swear to Santa that was her real name) popped in a video.

I was expecting "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" or "Frosty the Snowman" - you know, something with bright animation, maybe some songs, maybe some characters rendered out of clay, the usual Christmas kids movie stuff. What came on was The Snowman, a 1982 animated movie based on the popular children's book by British author/illustrator Raymond Briggs. Instead of bright, sparkling colors, I saw muted, gorgeous animation renderd out of colored pencil. Instead of "gee whiz!"-style Important Lessons, here was a children's movie entirely dialogue-free, accompanied only by beautifully haunted music by Howard Blake. And the only musical number was the ethereal "Walking In the Air," sung by a young man (Peter Auty, a St. Paul's Cathedral choirboy) with such a clear, high voice, I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl.

For the next twenty-seven minutes, I, along with a few of my classmates, was hypnotized. The more hyper members of our group couldn't be bothered by such a subdued movie, but the budding, brooding little drama queen in me was instantly attracted to the story of a snowman who comes to life and takes the boy who made him flying around the world. It's cute and whimsical and somewhat melancholy, all of which, to me, perfectly sums up Christmas.

I'm not sure how I feel about someone uploading the entire movie to YouTube. I'm not saying you need a flat-screen plasma TV to appreciate it - obviously that wasn't the technology we were dealing with in 1989. But even a small, quiet movie like this doesn't work so well when viewed in the little YouTube box. But the movie is so good and, unlike other obscure Christmas movies that grew a cult-like fanbase into mainstream popularity (A Christmas Story), still without a sizable American audience (even though it was nominated for the Best Animated Short Oscar in 1983), that I'll share it however I can. Whether it's on a computer monitor or in your living room (or both), you should ideally be wrapped in a blanket with a mug of hot cocoa. (Not hot chocolate. Hot cocoa.) If you're watching this at work, counting down the minutes until you can get away for the upcoming holidays, that's okay, too. (In fact, the movie might help.)

This might very well be my last post of the year, so I thought I'd wrap up my second year of blogging with one of my favorite movies...



Also check out: A Scrubbed-Up Charlie Brown Christmas (and a Christmassy Update!)
And: Sexy and Seasonal.

Top Five Art Moments of 2007

Yes, I'm doing my own Best Of lists. Future posts might include such classic gems as "Best Music of 2007," "Best Books of 2007" and "Best Amy Sedaris Quotes of 2007." Yes, you're going to enjoy them, and that's that. Don't give me that attitude or we'll turn this blog right around and go home.

That's better. On to the not-at-all-comprehensive recollections of a totally amateur yet enthusiastic art seer/goer/observer/taker-in-er!

My year in art started at the Museum of Modern Art's Richard Serra exhibit, Sculpture: Forty Years in June. (I know, my "year in art" didn't start until halfway through - see "amateur" comment in previous paragraph.) As the title implies, this was a comprehensive survey of the artist. Serra's smaller sculptures seem to flout gravity and physics, making heavy metals seem as light as a penny and fragile as glass. But the real story is Serra's work with sheet metal. Huge, sprawling slabs are erected in swirling, angled mazes that, again, seemingly defy the laws of nature. As you walk through the twisting halls, your own sense of balance becomes compromised. This isn't art that forces the audience to question or engage with their relationship to it - this is art that will literally get inside your head, flicking your equilibrium like a light switch, as if reminding the materialistic modern world to appreciate and be awed by its powerful industrial roots.

I missed MoMa's Jeff Wall exhibit by about three weeks, so I was glad to catch it when it showed up at the Art Institute of Chicago. Wall's large, back-lit, incredibly detailed photographs often look candid but many are in fact staged, employing casts, crews and special effects. While some seem genuinely spontaneous, like Mimic, and some stretch the suspension of disbelief while still looking downright cool (for lack of a better word [and why shouldn't "cool" be good enough a word to describe art, anyway?]), like Milk, pictured above, in some the artist insinuates himself to the forefront. Sure, The Flooded Grave, pictured left, looks great, with its open grave filled with sealife, but you can't help noticing the falsity of the moment. Is that the point? Even more distracting is the inconsistent seams that appear through the exhibit in Wall's larger, panoramic works. Some had clearly visible seams, some didn't. Were they unintentional? Or just more of Wall making us question not just the art itself, but the process of how he created it? (As opposed to say, Barry Frydlender, exhibited at MoMa at the same time as Serra. Frydlender's large, digitally composited photographs were perfectly seamless.) Worthwhile questions, to be sure - I still haven't figured out how I feel about it all. Like filling, stick-to-your-ribs food, this is stick-to-your-mind art, provocative not just for the (often beautiful) end product, but the means Wall used to get there.

In a stroke of a good luck, another photographer, Richard Misrach, was showing at the AIC at the same time as Wall. The AIC was the first museum to collect 20 of Misrach's beach-themed photographs into an exhibit that began a two-year tour. On the Beach showcased large, color photographs of seaside portraits, with the photographer somehow magically floating above the scenes at incredible heights like a voyeuristic angel. The photos often have no horizon and just one or two people either on the sand or floating in the water, presenting a beautiful, strangely peaceful post-apocalyptic (post-9/11?) world. Walking through the narrow halls of the AIC's basement, surrounded by Misrach's expansive shots of endless waves of water, it was serene, melancholy and creepy all at the same time.

On a cold November evening, my friend Laura and I hopped over to the River East Arts Center for Red Bull's The Art of Can exhibit. Yes, you read that right. Red Bull, the liquid crack of energy drinks, hosted a touring art exhibit with sculptures primarily featuring - what else? - Red Bull cans. This appealed on numerous levels: using the Official Sponsor of Underagers, All-Night Ravers and Wannabe Playas to make pop art; the contrast of a cheesy, nasty-smelling, chemical-laden beverage and the occasionally beautiful art made out of its cans; and the potential awfulness of it all. High on a mixture of invigorating winter chills and numerous vodka and Red Bulls (smells like feet!) provided by the gallery, Laura and I toured the many attempts of making treasure out of trash. Some succeeded, like the hovering, fluid, mythic dragon, and some failed, like the uncreative flower-blooming-out-of-a-Red-Bull-can. (Seriously? That's all you could come up with?) These mostly small, shiny objects were like DIY toys - not all art has to take itself seriously, right? But we were the real winners, as where else could you get drunk enough to both enjoy product placement art and blatantly mock said art under the alibi of said drunkeness?

My year in art closed recently with a quick bus ride over to Western Exhibitions, a small studio space in an isolated Chicago warehouse. John Parot's Biological Exuberance, influenced by and named after Bruce Bagemhi's book documenting gay behavior in animals, explores the mating rituals of modern gay men. Multimedia wall art featured cookie-cutter, mask-like faces (using the eyes and mouths from pictures of real-life models and porn stars cut out of magazines) playing out predator and prey roles. Floor installations group Diet Coke cans, whiskey and wine bottles and porn tapes, memorializing clichés that become even more interesting when tied to pink ropes attached to the wall, as if they're bait used to lure the unsuspecting. Most disturbing is Parot's use of color and 80's reference points: black paint drips down over Dead Can Dance and Velvet Underground paraphernalia and very 80's colors like hot pinks and electric blues, like how the death scare of AIDS began to overwhelm gay nightlife in the 80's. An interesting, if not entirely original, concept (human mating rituals mimic those found in nature) is served with a twist, if you will.

Okay, we made it! That wasn't too bad, was it? Everyone get out and take a bathroom break because we have a few more Best Of lists to go, coming up soon.

Also check out: Black and White and....
And: Blood, Boys and Bambinas.

Sexy and Seasonal

I realized that, not only is Britney's "Gimme More" a perfect dance-floor anthem, it might also have to be my Thanksgiving anthem. When I'm sitting in front of my empty plate, waiting for seconds, I might just have to start chanting "Gimme gimme more! Gimme more! Gimme gimme more!" What can I say? I'm a brat for sweet potatoes.

And just for the fun of it, some pics that popped up when I Google Image-d "Thanksgiving." I thought the title of this post would apply only to Britney's song, but I think the last pic nicely fits the theme, too.







Food porn is real, y'all.

(Thanks to Elephantitis of the Mind, Natalie Dee and GetSheila for the pics.)

Also check out: Kiwi, Tab and Turkey.
And: Multimedia Love.

Blood, Boys and Bambinas

After breaking 2007's record for Most Posts in a Single Month (October. 9. Sad.), I have been largely absent from blogging due to crazy work hours and other writerly side projects. So, before I get to pop culture goodies that have been rattling around in my brain like so many Jawbreakers, here's a three-point update:

1) Spent any good time in an ER lately? Yeah, I have. On a Saturday night. Because I apparently swallowed glass or a thumbtack or a chainsaw or something. So my experience at the Illinois Masonic's ER is featured for a week at GapersBlock, a Chicago-themed website. Click here to read about blood-spattered equipment! Crazy patients! Communicating without cell phones! If you're still suffering from a post-Halloween hangover, consider this your literary hair of the dog.

2) November is also time for Reeling Film Festival, Chicago's 26th annual gay and lesbian film festival. I wrote about it for UR Chicago Magazine here and, after enjoying the opening night's film, Shelter, reviewed it here. Click on the links to read about sexy surfer boys! International gay scandals! And did I mention sexy surfer boys?!

3) In news that has nothing to do with me, Chicago, writing, or really anything already covered in this post, I recently found out that our Italian Culinary Princess, Miss Giada de Laurentiis, is pregnant! Food Network Musings has the scoop. Can you imagine Giada pregnant? Remember how, um, top-heavy Salma Hayek became during her pregnancy? Giada will be like the Italian equivalent. I hope she doesn't tip over. But it's very exciting news for her and her husband...as long as she's not lying. (Just kidding!) (Or am I?)

Enjoy these stories while I mentally upchuck the Jawbreaker ideas in my head onto paper. (Lovely image, eh? I think that time in the ER has kind of stayed with me.)

(And, P.S., I said "upchuck." I just thought I'd point that out.)

Also check out: UR Out. Seriously, You Are.
And: LOL @ NPR.

Terrible Twos

OK, so do you see this little blog post? And these two posts? The first is my 200th post, the others frame my 2-year blogging anniversary.

Yea.

I kind of let both milestones slip by for opposite reasons. The 2-year mark because I was super busy with other writing projects outside of blogging, the 200th post because I had a surge of inspiration for posts and didn't want to slow down just to toot my own horn.

But now, I guess I'm tooting.

This past year of blogging has felt so much more...inconsistent? haphazard?...than the first year. I don't know if I expanded my purpose for blogging or if I just lost focus. I think something happened around this post in December when I changed my blog's template for the 2nd time, which really wiped out a lot of its design (links, content, etc.) that I had to recreate. It became a Catch-22: I felt more disconnected from my readers and commenting slowed down, so I felt more disconnected from my readers. One's the chicken, one's the egg.

But for my first year, I really took the blog's title to heart. Focusing on pop culture, food, Chicago and myself, I really tried to find a balance and cover each subject equally. Then, I added "media" to the list and, separately, broadened my idea of what could be included.

Maybe I was getting bored as a writer. Maybe I realized there were more materials to use for writing than Showgirls and Paris Hilton. Maybe my new writing assignments on the side, while amazing and a direct result of this blog, were sapping my creative energies. I don't know.

But whatever - this is supposed to be a happy post! 2 years! 200 posts! Hooray! So, just because this post about tooting my own horn has come out as a pretty flat, atonal toot, I'm going to indulge myself a bit and list some of my favorite blogging moments from the past year (in no particular order):

Oysters and Mussels and Squid - Oh My! - In which I list the ways sea creatures required for cooking might attack me for trying to kill them. Also: British accents!

Kiwi, Tab and Turkey - In which I commemorate my favorite holiday - Thanksgiving - with two totally unrelated videos. Since Thanksgiving is yet again on the horizon, now might be a good time to revisit them: one's a hilarious vintage commercial for Tab, the other a beautiful, haunting, short animated movie. Also: "mind-stickers"!

Top Chef Check-In - In which I give Bravo some tips on how to spice up Season 3, which naturally include such ideas as making sure the judges make sense and showing off cute guys in tank tops. Also: brothy broths!

Of Booze and Political Statements - Besides my new writing gig, another new benefit of this blog is receiving promotional materials from PR companies to consider for review. One of the highlights was the documentary Small Town Gay Bar. So including this is more about the subject, not the writing itself. Also: homosexual hamburgers!

In Defense of Amy Winehouse - In which I take the local media to task for criticizing the idiosyncratic singer's bewitching flaws instead of appreciating them as quirks that make her stage presence that much more interesting. Also: singing vaginas!

So, that's it for now. Here's to another year!

(End tooting.)

Also check out: 1 Y.O. (Or, 26 is the New 1).

UR Out. Seriously, You Are.

So you may have noticed that little pic/caption on the side of my blog about how I now write for UR Chicago, a local, monthly entertainment and culture magazine. I had done some freelance work for them in the past, interviewing Margaret Cho and Paddy Boom, among other articles. But now I am a full-fledged member of their writing staff. Hooray for jobs/side projects that actually relate to my college major whether directly or indirectly!

Let's back up. This past March, UR found new owners in the form of En Prise Entertainment, an event promotion and artist management company, and with them came a new editor-in-chief. Since then, in my humble opinion, UR has really popped. The covers alone are unique and fantastic. I mean, look at this cover for the current issue about food. Who does magazine covers like that? I don't see magazines looking like that anywhere else in the city...or, country even?

Plus, their food and wine coverage is always informative, they interview the most interesting personalities whether local or national, and they cover everything from sex toys to local do-gooders to Chicago's crazy nightlife. Most impressively, their awesomely expansive music section showcases the latest and greatest and have introduced me to some of my favorite new bands (hi, The Attorneys!). They even revamped the website and added a kickass podcast where you can listen to all the music that's featured in each issue. And just when you thought they might have been too cool for school, they even add a Dogs & Babies section. Hey, babies can be trendy, right? Word.

But just to completely round out the Chicago experience, they have also added an LGBT section. To my surprise and delight, they asked me to create the content every month. Wait, how did they know I was even gay to begin with? Oh, yeah. And, yeah. And...yeah. So anyway, each month is a new article and event listings written by yours truly.

Anyway, the section is called UR Out (I love the accusatory/informative statement behind the name; see title of this post) and it debuts in this month's issue. You know, Chicago's LGBT population (I prefer that to "community") may have the Windy City Times and a section in Time Out Chicago, among other publications, but with a city this big there's always room for more coverage, right? I just hope I do my fellow 'mos proud through fun, informative articles. I'm also expecting to learn a lot in the process, about Chicago's LGBT scene, about writing on deadlines and about how the local/national LGBT stories evolve over time, especially in these heightened, we've-come-so-far-but-have-so-far-to-go times.

P.S. If you have something going on you'd like to see listed in our event listings, or know about something I should check out, please email the details to urout@urchicago.com.

Also check out: UR Here.
And: U {Heart} Pierogis.

Where Am I?

What is this strange and magical land with its green borders, witty textual phrases and crisp aroma of impending Pulitzers?

Oh, right, it's my blog. I haven't been here in a while so I kind of forgot what it looks like.

So obviously I've been kind of MIA lately. I just had to take a break. A few pop culture/food/media/Chicago things had flashed into my radar, pulsating every so lightly with mild interest. I have been trying recipes (107 down!), listening to new music and reading great books , but I just couldn't commit any of it to the page/monitor.

Blame the bazillion degree weather or the Food Network. Both would be slightly accurate. Really, I just didn't feel like it. Sometimes you just have to take a break from writing; you have to get off cruise control, pull over and just be a tourist in your own strange little life. Luckily, batteries have recharged and I will getting back on the road soon. Stay tuned.

Black and White and...

Ah, New York, the city of dualities. Gritty and sophisticated, hipsters and hippies, WASPs and wiggers (yeah, I'm bringing back "wigger"), cupcakes, Cosmos and crack. How can you not love it? At least, you know, in small doses. My sweetie and I were there for three days and three nights eating, drinking and figuring out the streets from the avenues. Luckily, we stayed with my lovely friend/hostess Stacey who knows all the hot spots.

Some surprises? Black and white cookies and Egg Creams (which has neither eggs nor cream - discuss) both deserve their legendary reputations, TKTS doesn't just offer decent Broadway ticket prices but great seats, too, and the Metra is so much better than the CTA. Of course, riding a blind, amputated warthog would be better and faster than the CTA, but I digress. I would digress even more if I expounded on my crush for Raúl Esparza, so all I'll say is, if you can see Company before it closes July 1st, do it. Go. That's all I'm saying.

Even better was the lack of taxes on clothing and the unpredictably decent prices. Sure, Dean and Deluca might charge an arm and leg for some products, but they also have Meyer Lemon Olive Oil for $22 which is the same as in Chicago. And did I mention there's no taxes on clothes?!?!

Also surprising? Magnolia Bakery. Meh. Their cupcakes were dry and the buttercream frosting was so sweet I could taste the sugar granules. I actually prefer Chicago's own Cupcakes for their flavor combinations and Swirlz for their superior, moist cakes and restrained use of smooth frosting.

Two other highlights included the Museum of Modern Art and a Greenwich Village food tour. We went for MoMa's Richard Serra exhibit but stayed for Israeli photographer Barry Frydlender's huge portraits composed of dozens (or even hundreds) of seamlessly collaged digital pictures. The 3-hour food tour stuffed us with pizza, freshly-filled cannoli and deep-fried rice balls. That, my friends? Is called heaven.

While I wasn't pleased with the way most of my photos turned out, I'm wrapping this post up with pics offering a glimpse of Serra's towering steel slab sculptures in MoMa's garden and some Greenwich Village gems.









Also check out: Wisconsin, Suckas.
And: Happy Birthday to Me.

Fuggedaboutit, Suckas

Don't be offended, the title is sort of a tradition at this point. And yes, I am traveling to NYC for a long weekend vacation with the sweetie. Woo-hoo! Bring on the black and white cookies, the egg creams and the entitled superiority.

Unfortunately, I also have a cold. Yeah. Who has a cold in June? Me, right before my first vacation in a long time. So I hope the cast of "Spring Awakening" doesn't mind that there will be some guy in the mezzanine blowing his nose while they sing about their hormonal urges and teenage oppression.

So anyway, I'll hopefully be back to blogging by early next week, unless all that New York attitude really rubs off on me and I decide blogging is so 2006 or something.

You better wash your hands before coming into my city, bitch.

Also check out: Seattle, Suckas.
And: Aloha, Suckas.

The Same Thing We All Do With Our Feet

Many bloggers have talked about the funny phrases people look up that somehow lead them to their blogs. At this point, it's almost a cliché post. But I can't keep one in particular to myself. (Trust me, I could have done a whole post about how someone looked up the phrase "Who decided that Elizabeth Berkeley is attractive" and found my site...but I didn't.) When looking up what leads people to my blog, I came across this phrase:

What did the most flexible japense [sic] women do with her feet?

Um, WHAT?!?! Is there some Japanese (sorry, "Japense") woman who's somehow been proven to be more flexible than every other Japanese woman alive? And does she do something strange with her feet? It almost sounds like a riddle...and I came up with an answer that's just too dirrrty to mention. So I'll go with title here as the answer.

Not only did it lead this flexible Japanese fetishist to my site, I was the #1 result on Google for this particular phrase. I couldn't tell from the other results what they were looking for in the first place. The reason my blog was pulled at all was because of this post featuring my description of Margaret Cho's burlesque show, which I can assure you had nothing to do with her doing anything special with her feet.

In other not-really-news about people lumping together things that are only barely related, CBS Chicago's website features a completely random slideshow on their site where they basically try to list every single celebrity who's gay and out. The only explanation given is:

Here's a look at some stars who are living openly gay lives, and realizing that it is "in to be out."

I love how "in to be out" is in quotes as if that's a phrase that people actually use. I've never heard anyone say this, probably because it's not really true. To be sure, they feature Rupert Everett, who actually reveals in his autobiography that he lost roles in movies like About A Boy specifically because he is gay. I don't mean to belittle the progress that has been made when people like Neil Patrick Harris and T.R. Knight have come out and still maintained solid careers, but I just wish that CBS Chicago had maybe put this feature in some context and really explained why it was there.

And, oh yeah..."some stars"? They list every single gay person who's ever had even the most passing brush with fame, not to mention the most obviously gay celebrities that even the most clueless straight people would already know. News flash: The stars of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy are...wait for it...queer!

But what they can do with their feet remains to be seen.

Also check out: This Post is AWESUM.
And: Who Wants to See That?

U {Heart} Pierogis

Or you should, anyway. If you've had them, then you know what I'm talking about. It's basically Polish comfort food: flaky pastry dough filled with meats, cheeses and/or veggies and then fried. If you haven't had them, you can come to Chicago to go to The Pierogi Factory. If you can't do that, you can just read my review of the new restaurant in the latest issue of UR Chicago. No, that's not me on the cover, but I'm almost as sexy.

UPDATE: Due to new owners with a new website, my older work for UR Chicago will no longer be available online. Hopefully I'll scan them in soon with the appropriate links.

Also check out: UR Here.

Maybe It's Time for The Change

I just spent my whole night writing about Project Runway versus Top Chef versus Top Design and then the new Beta Blogger made my internet connection unexpectedly quit YET AGAIN. By now you'd think I'd remember to save my posts as drafts before digging around my archives for links to previous posts, but no, that would be too smart and logical.

It's not like I'm the only person to use Safari so why, oh why, must Blogger always be so incompatible with it? Maybe I should switch to Typepad. Do any Safari-users out there have any opinions or experience to share about Typepad?

In the meantime, I'm going to go write a big, long, angry letter to Blogger and then not send it. Because that's so productive.

UR Here

So part of the reason I've been largely absent from the blogging scene recently is due to the unexpected rush of assignments for Chicago magazine UR Chicago. In their February issue out now, I have a mini-review of my local coffeeshop/restaurant Cafénéo, a q&a-style interview with one of my favorite comediennes, Margaret Cho, and the cover featre on the Scissor Sisters. So it's all very exciting as I've been published before but never in a cool, glossy magazine like this one. And I got paid!

For some reason the Margaret Cho interview isn't online, but it's about her new career path into bellydancing and burlesque. She was in Chicago last month to perform in Gurlesque Burlesque, a fundraiser for the Sissy Butch Brothers' documentary about the history of burlesque and Exotic World, the burlesque museum of Las Vegas and the only archive in the world of bulesque-esque materials.

I went to the show so I could, you know, know what I was talking about when writing the article. I've never seen any burlesque before so this was quite the plunge into feminist, political debauchery. How could I not love it? "George and Dick" performed an act in which they dressed up as, well, our good friends and national leaders George and Dick, complete with plastic masks and and business suits. They stripped each other, ending up as George and Dick's creepy, smiling faces on top of two topless, bikini-clad women's bodies. They stepped into a kiddie pool and poured oil over each other and wrestled, finishing by draping an American flag over themselves.

Sassbox was a trio of women singing an a capella bluegrass lullaby while being washed down by an admiring fan. The Boyz, a group of drag kings, dressed as sperm trying to impregnate an egg to Eminem's "Lose Yourself" ("You've only got one shot/Do not miss your chance to blow!"). And Julie Atlas Muz, a well-known dancer and one of Cho's inspirations, performed two fantastic acts, one of which included a life-sized balloon that, by the end, she had completely crawled into and danced with a spotlight behind her, illuminating her sillouette as she writhed around inside.

Cho was equally awesome. For her first act, she emerged dressed completely in Aztec warrior garb, complete with helmet with a huge, sprouting mohawk, breastplate, shield and spear. She stripped and strutted around the stage, slowly losing each piece of her costume. Then, when it looks like she's about to rip off her black warrior skirt, she instead rips it in half. The waistband was actually two flexible batons with transparent black flags attached, draping all the way down to her feet and back up behind her, attaching at the back of her neck. She whipped those suckers around like some kind of warrior butterfly. She finished on the floor, topless. Oh, yeah, all this was done to Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun."

For her second act, she slowly stripped off a nightgown while also flinging around two giant, pink-feathered fans that would throw Karl Lagerfeld into a jealous hissy-fit. She finally used them to reveal a twist ending worthy of David Lynch. I'll use a condensed excerpt from my interview to explain:

Me: Some of your burlesque is described as involving "gender swapping" and "gender play." What does that mean?

Cho: I have a very, very realistic false penis that will sometimes appear during dance routines. It's very shocking. It's very big.

Me: How big?

Cho: I don't know, but he's very big. Well, that's what people tell me - that he's very shockingly big.

So there you have it. I was paid to see Margaret Cho almost naked with a very shockingly big (and very dark) dick - with equally big, dark balls - dangling between her legs. Yeah. Awesome.

Well, That's Better Than Oops! I Crapped My Spandex Shorts

Man, it's been over a month since I've posted, missing Christmas, New Year's and my birthday, the most important of all the holidays. But I swear I'm getting my internet situation cleaned up this weekend so I can get back to it.

In the mean time, feast your eyes on the latest in publishing glory:



OK, I don't want to be rude, since I have nothing but respect for the people they feature in their magazine (I say this because they show an elderly female weight lifter who could crack my head between her shoulder blades), but, come on, Geezer Jock? Couldn't they think of something less...um...self-parodic for the title? Like Elderly Athlete or Oldies Squattin' or something?

I shouldn't mock. Like I said, I just celebrated yet another birthday and twisted my ankle drunkenly falling down a stair. Yes, I twisted my ankle falling down one singular stair. Next stop: dialysis. So I can only hope that I'll be half as fit as the subscribers of Geezer Jock when I'm their age. Or hell, even by my next birthday.

Also check out: Happy Birthday to Me.
And: Party Like it's 2001, or 2001: A Space Cadet's Odyssey.

Sick and Busy...

...But I will hopefully be back in full swing soon. Let's just say December 2006 is already a strange, hectic, overwhelming, stressfull learning experience. Ugh.

So...Much...Green...

Obviously, I'm re-working a few things here. I like to give my blog a new look every once in a while, and when Blogger introduced their new Beta mode, I made a few drastic changes. Unfortunately, unlike many of my blogging friends who seemed to have made the transition smoothly, I seemed to have lost a few things along the way.

So bear with me, enjoy the fresh, crisp, herbacious new look, play around with the labels I'm slowly adding to all my posts and hopefully I'll get the kinks worked out soon!

(Update: Things are looking better as of 12/4, but I had to completely re-enter my links list. Please don't take it personally if I missed your link because I had no time to remember every single link I used to have. So, if you were a link on my roll, or would like to be, please email me - donb80@gmail.com - and remind me. Thanks!)

1 Y.O. (Or, 26 Is The New 1)

The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another. -James Matthew Barrie, Sr.

It was one year ago that I first hit "publish," as if getting published were somehow as simple as clicking a button. But, here I am, one year later, one year older and one year smarter (well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad). I always set out to blog for at least one year - little did I know exactly how this blog would affect my life. My blog and I have had ups and downs, fights and reconciliations, cocktails and a little nookie (hey, iBooks are sexy), and it's helped me meet some new friends from around the city and the country. My blog has seen me through two different jobs and was the cause of losing one (but we won't go into that here).

So what was I doing one year ago? Well, I was unemployed (unconnected to blog-related job loss) and many potential writing jobs needed blogging experience. This caught me by surprise as I didn't think blogging skills were really taken that seriously in the job market (I'm still not convinced they really are, but knowing HTML code can look good on a résumé, I guess). So I started what I thought would be a website comprising only my most polished, future-employer-impressing writing samples.

The first three posts from exactly one year ago reflect this cautiously optimistic attitude, but unfortunately the first two aren't worth your time. The only one I care to link to is my review of Martha Stewart's talk show, which had just debuted at that time. I still consider it one my finest pieces (oh, Slate, why, oh why, must you reject me?).

But now? Would I show this to a potential employer? Hmmm...maybe. I'd be a little hesitant with recent titles like this, but overall there's really nothing here to be ashamed by. However, that just not the point anymore. Now I do this for myself, not to impress some stranger (and I have a very fine job now anyway, thank you very much).

So, I really can't say where this is going in the future. I know I haven't been posting very much lately, but I'm trying to install an RSS feed so people know when to check in...or maybe I already have installed it. I can't quite tell. If any computer-savvy readers want to help me out with that, shoot me an email. I have a Feedburner link and everything, I just don't know what to do with it.

Anyway, expect some upgrades in the future (really, what do those yellow flowers up by the title have to do with anything other than looking pretty?) as this blog moves into it's own 2.0 version. Or is that 2 Y.O. version? (That's the last Janet reference, I promise.)

But no matter what happens, thanks to everyone who reads me with any regularity, or who has dropped by even once, who has left a positive a comment, or any comment at all. The point is...

Thanks!