Someone filmed Aaron Tveit in “Next to Normal”

Nice.   If I was craftier I’d make a flip book out of this:

New York Moment

(ISAAC and MICAH are substitute co-teaching a Theater History class at Fordham, their alma mater. They’re discussing Molière and misanthropy in modern times with the students, who barely know what to make of ISAAC and MICAH.)

MICAH: The bitchery in the play obviously resonated for us, since we are both in theater, and homosexuals.
ISAAC: Did you just out me?
MICAH: Yes, I did.
ISAAC: Maybe I wanted there to be a little mystique.
MICAH: Please.  There’s no mystique with that outfit.

FIN.

Dear Eric Schneiderman, I love you

Just got this:

Dear Isaac,

Thank you for contacting me on this fundamental civil rights issue. As you may know, I am 100% committed to passing legislation to enact marriage equality in New York, and a co-sponsor of the bill in the Senate. Our state should no longer be in the business of denying people’s rights on the basis of sexual orientation.

I am hopeful that marriage equality will come to the floor of the Senate today. If not, I will keep fighting to make sure we get a vote as soon as possible. Equal protection under the law deserves no less.

Sincerely,
Sen. Eric Schneiderman

I’m obsessed with Sting’s new album

I woke up on Saturday morning to him singing this song on NPR.  My room was freezing but my bed was warm and it was perfect:

I got out of bed, downloaded the album, made a pot of coffee and wrote for three hours while listening to it on repeat.  I’ve hit a wall again with the play, but Sting’s got me so mellow that my approaching deadline hardly scares me.

I’m avoiding writing by looking at pictures of Scott Speedman, who should be illegal

New York Moment

(ISAAC and IAN M. are sitting on the L train, which is stalled at Union Square, waiting for it to continue westward. They sip at cups of lentil soup. A DRUNK YUPPIE GUY stumbles onto the train.)

DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: Ew. What is that?
ISAAC: Lentil soup.
DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: I’ve never heard of such a thing. What’s in lentil soup?
ISAAC: Lentils.
DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: Where’d you get that?
ISAAC: In Williamsburg.
DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: When these train doors close I’m gonna fall through them backwards.

(Beat.)

DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: I think lentil soup is — it sounds like some government project — something you eat that brainwashes you into voting for Democrats.  Yeah.  Like, a Republican wouldn’t eat lentil soup.  They wouldn’t.  Lentil soup — it’s part of the Obama administration.  It’s propaganda.  Like this guy over here.  Hey, would you eat lentil soup?
OTHER DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: No, no.  Split pea, man.
DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: Yeah, split pea.  What color is it?
OTHER DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: It reveals itself to be green.
DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: Green is where it’s at. We gotta get, no clean coal.  You gotta leave lights on.  You gotta flush your toilet like eight thousand times a day.  Even when you’re just peeing, you gotta flush it.  I just turn my car on and let it run for weeks.  Until the gas runs out.
CONDUCTOR (V.O.): Stand clear of the closing doors, please.
DRUNK YUPPIE GUY: Oh.

(He falls backwards out through the closing doors.)

FIN.

It’s Friday, and I want Robert Pattinson’s hair

And his sweater:

Where do you think he got that?

Teabaggers on Capitol Hill

Good god.  Rachel Maddow is the only person who could make this palatable:

The cast of “The Addams Family” in Vanity Fair

Looks awesome:

This is heartening

Thank you, Chris, for passing this along:

Wake up

Hi, Mom and Dad.  You should skip this one.  I’m doing well, though.  Love you and am looking forward to being with you at  Thanksgiving.

« »

A few nights ago in a horny haze I rejoined Manhunt, and within two hours a gentleman caller was rapping at my door.  What a thrill, what a lark, to experience that old rush of anticipation again — humming the songs of Bock and Harnick (will he like me when we meet?) while giving your nether regions a courtesy-wash in the shower, gargling with mouthwash, giving him directions on the phone while gauging his masculinity through his voice, and peeking through the peephole at the sound of his footsteps in the hallway like a child on Christmas morning.  A child on Christmas morning whose present is an actor on the down-low.

Seriously handsome, he was, with a glorious mane of blond hair, piercing green eyes, and the pinkest lips and nipples you ever did see.  We went at it from 1:45 to 5:30.  It was terrific sex — unhurried, assured.  It was slow jazz, Paris Sunday, old poet sex.  We looked in each other’s eyes, we laughed, we cooed, we bit pillows and pulled hair and grabbed my bookcase for leverage.  This is amazing, I thought to myself, I am connecting with this man on such a deep, physical level — there’s no way he’s not feeling this as well, he seems nice, I might even let him sleep here, and that’s when he climbed up and, without asking first, came all over my face.

Oh, right.  I met this guy on Manhunt.  That’s where this began and that’s where this ends and that’s why I stopped doing this.

It was like in movies when a character is stirred from a dream by a bucket of water to the head, and, after three and a half hours of steady provocation, a bucket of water is an apt visual.  He fucking Old Faithfulled my face.  There was no post-coital cuddling, since I had to run immediately to the bathroom to rinse my face, eyes and hair.  As he dressed he asked me about my plays and how long I’d lived in the neighborhood and told some story about his super not fixing his sink correctly.  He left soon after, with the sun rising.

Assessing Barack Obama

An interesting feature from the Times.  Thank you Chris.

New York Moment

(ISAAC and IAN J. are in Whole Foods, standing in front of a big display of Seaside Cheddar Cheese.)

IAN J.: I’m getting a block of this.
ISAAC: I don’t know — I think I’m good with the Seriously Sharp.
IAN J.: But this will taste so much better.
ISAAC: I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I don’t ask much of cheese.

(ISAAC picks up a block of the Seaside Cheddar, examines it. A handsome SILVER FOX approaches the display.)

ISAAC: “Aged 18 months,” only to be eaten in one sitting.
IAN J.: Huh.
ISAAC: You know that’s what’s going to happen.
IAN J.: I do.
SILVER FOX: It’s really good.
ISAAC: Is it?
SILVER FOX: Yes. I recommend it. It’s got a nice bite to it.

(SILVER FOX walks off.)

ISAAC: (putting a block in his basket) Well, I am getting this cheese.
IAN J.: What? You’ll listen to some hot guy before you listen to your dear friend?
ISAAC: I’d like to give him a nice bite.

FIN.

Afternoon Swoon: Ryan Kwanten

Love Story

(ISAAC is walking up 42nd Street.)

STARBUCKS: Boo!
ISAAC: I see you.
STARBUCKS: Did I scare you?
ISAAC: No.
STARBUCKS: You ain’t dressed up.
ISAAC: Should I be?
STARBUCKS: It’s Halloween, baby!
ISAAC: Who are you supposed to be?
STARBUCKS: I’m the boy in the balloon.
ISAAC: There was no boy in the balloon.  They found him hiding in the attic.
STARBUCKS: Why you gotta be like that?
ISAAC: I’m just saying.
STARBUCKS: You no fun.  You wanna hear a scary story, at least?
ISAAC: No.
STARBUCKS: There once was a boy who didn’t drink enough coffee every day.  As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, he turned away from the world.  He didn’t do nothing, didn’t see friends, didn’t update his blog, didn’t go out on dates, didn’t slut it up on the Internet — he just stayed at home eatin’ dried cranberries and watchin’ old episodes of “Frasier.”  His urinary tract was healthy but his dance card was not.
ISAAC: Very funny.
STARBUCKS: What?
ISAAC: I’m the boy.  That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it.
STARBUCKS: Let me finish!
ISAAC: I will have you know that I have been working on a play and that is why I haven’t been around.  I don’t know what my coffee intake has to do with my social life or my blog, but as per usual your fables are driven not by message but by market.  And I will also have you know that I try to write a guy every other day on OK Cupid and not one of them ever writes me back.  Same on Manhunt.  I can’t even give it away these days.
STARBUCKS: (flashlight under chin) There once was a boy who didn’t drink enough coffee every day …
ISAAC: Oh, shut up and fuck you, I’m coming in for coffee anyway.  I spent all morning fussing with a scene in my play that I’ve fussed with so much already that I no longer have any instincts about it.  It’s just mush.
STARBUCKS: A little caffeine’ll turn that mush to gold.
ISAAC: That’s what I’m hoping.
STARBUCKS: (inhales) Smell that?
ISAAC: What?
STARBUCKS: It’s fall.  Almost time for me to bust out my red cups.

FIN.

Afternoon Swoon: Eric Mabius

The Full Johnston

We have confirmation that on November 16th Levi Johnston will pose fully nude for Playgirl — just in time for my birthday:

I want a copy.

The Proposal

RYAN REYNOLDS: Um.
SANDRA BULLOCK: Yeah.
RYAN REYNOLDS: This movie’s kind of a shitefest, isn’t it.
SANDRA BULLOCK: Yeah.  Not even worth a Netflix rental.
RYAN REYNOLDS: I knew it.  I’m legitimately funny.  That must be why I look so sad in every scene.
SANDRA BULLOCK: I’m also relatively funny.  Or at least I was until I got some bad work done on my face that’s so distracting it’s all you can pay attention to when I’m on screen.
RYAN REYNOLDS: It is bizarre facial work.  You’re supposed to be this fearsome corporate powerhouse but your face is stuck looking like you’re trying to sneak out a poot.
SANDRA BULLOCK: I know, I know.  The days of “Speed” are behind me.
RYAN REYNOLDS: Did you know that you were Isaac’s cover-up crush before he came out of the closet?
SANDRA BULLOCK: There was a period of time in which Isaac pretended to like women?
RYAN REYNOLDS: For about two and a half days, yeah.
SANDRA BULLOCK: That was brief.
RYAN REYNOLDS: Well, I couldn’t hide from him for long.  I had a career to begin.

New York Moment

(ISAAC and ELIZABETH are riding the subway home together. It’s crowded and they’re standing. A MAN HOLDING FLOWERS and a YOUNG WOMAN sitting next to each other begin bickering.)

YOUNG WOMAN: Um, excuse me, can you please stop bumping my arm?
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: Oh, what, am I bumping your arm?
YOUNG WOMAN: Yes.  Yes you are.
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: Well, maybe if your bag wasn’t bumping my arm the entire ride, then …
YOUNG WOMAN: So you’ve been doing this on purpose?
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: Yes.
YOUNG WOMAN: So which is better?  Doing it by accident or doing it on purpose?
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: Your bag is cutting into my space.
YOUNG WOMAN: My bag is perfectly in my space.
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: No, it’s not.  Look.  It’s halfway into my seat area, it’s pressed against me.  How would you like it if I sat like this?

(He takes his bag and shoves it up against her side.)

YOUNG WOMAN: Oh.  Oh.  Great.
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: Yeah.  How do you like that?  Not very fun, is it?
YOUNG WOMAN: (overly sarcastic) You must be having a terrific day.  You’re having a great day, aren’t you?
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: I was having a great day until this.

(He goes back to reading. She puts her iPod headphones back in, but takes them back out after a moment.)

YOUNG WOMAN: I’m just wondering: have you been on a subway before?
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: Yes.
YOUNG WOMAN: Really.  I was wondering, because you seem to be surprised by how little space there is.
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: It’s not an issue when people are considerate and aware of their belongings.
ELIZABETH: (to ISAAC) This is fascinating.  I’ve seen two of these kinds of fights now this week.
ISAAC: They’re like children.  My god.
ELIZABETH: I just love that he’s holding flowers.
ISAAC: Right — who are they for?
ELIZABETH: Oh my god. Look.
YOUNG WOMAN: (pushing him) It wasn’t like this.
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: (pushing her back) Yes, it was.
YOUNG WOMAN: (pushing him again) Oh yeah?
MAN HOLDING FLOWERS: (pushing her back again) Yeah!

(The train pulls into the 168th Street station. The YOUNG WOMAN stands to get off the train, turns back to him on her way out.)

YOUNG WOMAN: I seriously hope your day gets better.  You seem so sad.

FIN.

Sorry, it’s been a week

Here’s Matthew Morrison working for tips, to assuage:

Shouts & Murmurs Live

I went to The New Yorker Festival’s Humor Revue on Sunday to hear Woody Allen, Paul Rudnick, Noah Baumbach, Ian Frazier and others read.  The revue itself was a delight, but I won’t pretend I wasn’t also on the make for a smarty.

The seat next to me was unoccupied until the very last minute when they let in people from the waiting list.  As each person filed in I thought, Maybe he’ll be next.  Maybe he’ll have a quick brain and a kind heart and a peacoat that smells like a fireplace.

No dice: I got a grizzled elderly gentleman with a rubber-banded bundle of newspapers who picked his teeth during everyone’s pieces except Woody Allen’s.  Ah well.  Maybe next year.

Someone is even hornier than I am, and it’s Meredith Vieira

Thank you, Morgan:

Well hello, Ashton Kutcher

It’s Simple, Darling

Zsa Zsa Gabor works out — “I wasn’t born to be an athlete; I was born to be a lover!”

Thank you, Stacey:

Sunday

Dave and I were riding a crowded 1 train downtown when a homeless man at one end of the car jumped to his feet, jammed his finger in the face of a young woman who was leaning up against the train door, and began to scream.  He called her a bitch, a prick, a cunt, a piece of shit.  She remained largely unfazed, even responding at one point, “I’m a piece of shit?”

The train went quiet.  He stormed up and down the car, encouraging several men on the car to attack her while daring her to go to the police.  He said he would laugh when a man dragged her by her hair off of the subway.  He said he had AIDS and he was dying and he didn’t care. 

“Look what you made me do,” he shouted at her when he noticed a small child in a father’s arms. “There’s kids on this train.  Look what you made me do.”  He turned to the father: “I’m sorry.  So sorry.”  Then it was immediately back to bitch, prick, cunt, piece of shit.

The train pulled into the 116th Street station — her destination.  She moved towards a door.  He stormed over to her, announcing that he was going to follow her off the train and beat her up himself, he didn’t care.  She turned to him and said without missing a beat, “Well, this is our stop,” which just made my jaw drop.

People rushed out to see if the man was indeed following her, but he just boarded the next car while she continued on out of the station.  Jesus.