James Franco’s Rejected UCLA Commencement Speech

Click to watch.

L’a(ss)quila

Hot damn, was this gang ever randy:

Christ — when did the G8 Summit become “Porky’s”?  Ten bucks says Sarkozy dropped those papers for her to pick up.

This picture’s making the rounds.  Hilarious.  Nick has branded it “AssGate.” 

(Nick, I love your blog, or your “Tumblr,” or whatever the hell it is.  It won’t let me comment, but just know that if you were picking up papers in front of me I would totally check out your ass.)

Something’s gotta give

In a fitting way to celebrate the Fourth, I spent our Day of Independence entirely surrounded by couples — couples whom I love and admire, so I’m not complaining, but a roomful of duos to my uno nonetheless.

I kept busy, quipping whenever I could and eating my weight in salt and vinegar chips. During the very brief breaks I took to, you know, wipe the grease from my fingers and chin, I would look around the room and notice a pair here and there holding hands, or whispering something to one another. Don’t get me wrong; I knew that had I a mate present he would only distract me from valuable chip-eating time.

But the question still reared its ugly head: most of my friends are in relationships, and what am I in? A kneeling position in front of a long line of psychotics.

Darren Aronofsky on what to do when the writing isn’t going well

I think you just have to understand that it’s like manic-depression.  There are crests and troughs and you have to be able to cope.  And just have to know that when you’re feeling it’s going well that at some point in the near future it’s going to be a struggle and that’s just the reality of it.  When you’re down, just be kind to yourself; go buy a CD, go see a movie, wait until the inspiration comes back.

Um, Jude, we can definitely see your nips

Not that I’m complaining.

It’s 4:05 AM

And I’m still up, having just put “finishing touches” on a play I currently hate but am attending a roundtable readthrough of tonight.  The readthrough is certainly a bone thrown my way by the universe so I’ll gnaw on it and cherish it, but this play and I feel like strangers.

I need to work on something new.  Something new: reveal yourself.

It’s been far too long

Box Office Scene

(ISAAC and ERICA are handing out will call tickets to a long line of patrons at the awful Wednesday matinee. An OLD CRONE is walking up and down the line, waving a ticket at the patrons.)

OLD CRONE: I have an extra ticket. I’ll sell it to you for cheaper than they will!
ISAAC: Ma’am! You cannot do that here; you have to go outside!

(The OLD CRONE sticks her tongue out at ISAAC and walks off.)

ERICA: Oh my god. Did you just see that woman stick her tongue out at you?
ISAAC: No! Did she really?
ERICA: Yup.
ISAAC: I am so sorry I missed that.

FIN.

Box Office Scene

(The last Wednesday matinee of the season. It’s a doozy. The oldies are out for tickets — and blood. ISAAC and ERICA are working in the box office. Patrons are lined up at ERICA’S window, signing up for the waiting list.)

MAN #1: Hi, my last name is Moore, and I’m looking for one ticket.
ERICA: OK, you’re all set on the list. Just make sure you’re back at that end of the hallway at 1:45.
MAN #1: OK, thanks.

(MAN #1 walks off. The next patron in line steps up.)

WOMAN #1: My last name is Cohen, and I need three tickets.
ERICA: Ma’am, we only allow people to sign up for two tickets.
WOMAN #1: Only two? OK.

(She turns to the patron behind her.)

WOMAN #1: How many are you signing up for?
MAN #2: One.
WOMAN #1: Great. Can you sign up for two, one for my friend? Thanks.

(She walks off.)

MAN #2: Um. I guess I’m signing up for two.

FIN.

Jack in a Box

My fellow playwright/box office slave Michael has started a web series about life selling tickets.  It’s hilarious:

I’m already campaigning for a recurring guest appearance.  Like Bebe Neuwirth on “Cheers.”

Let It Burn

I was waiting for the A train at 42nd Street at one in the morning and heard a group of people at the other end of the platform cheering.  Usually that means a ritual subway sacrifice is under way, but I was just bored and buzzed and exhausted enough to let curiosity take over.  Turns out it was a fantastic singer-keyboardist who I wound up giving two dollars to — he was that good.

I was moved by how diverse the crowd was that had gathered to enjoy his performance.  The energy was so positive; people were singing along, clapping, and smiling at each other.  I tried to capture some of it on my cell phone, and it doesn’t quite translate, but you can get a feeling:

Codependence

Well, I had a lovely Fourth of July.  Lots of food eaten, lots of good conversation had, and surprisingly lots of fireworks seen from Bear and Addison’s Brooklyn rooftop.

On the long subway ride home I sat across from a couple that made out and passed grapes back and forth to and from each other’s mouths.

To that, I respond with this:

Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded

I spent $65 on cab fare alone

I’ve just returned from Toys in Babeland, where Tallulah and I threw together an awesome wedding gift for our friends Theresa and Tim who are getting married this Sunday.

We giggled our way through the store, sticking our fingers in Fleshlights and slapping each other with $150 whips. The employees, I’m sure, were thrilled. We filled a gift box with lubes, a pocket rocket, edible massage oils, a reusable vibrating cock ring, a blindfold, a tickling feather, and a book of sex positions.

I also found a dildo version of the web programmer’s penis:

For $65, you get the majesty and the might without the crazy asshole attached.

I tried to take another picture with my hand on it, for scale, but my phone died, apparently unable to handle more than one shot.  I wrapped my hand around it and felt a pang of nostalgia in my throat.

Angel Falls

Slow Loris Loves Getting Tickled

Box Office Scene

(ISAAC arrives at the box office at the beginning of a two-show day. There is already a line of crabby old women waiting for the box office to open. He unlocks the door, steps into the box office, sets his things down. He senses their crabby old eyes boring into him, trying to reach his soul’s last vestiges of innocence, and turns his back to them, trying to look “busy” while he gets ready to open the box office. The old ladies step closer and closer to the window. They move in a pack, like velociraptors, but old velociraptors with Chanel sunglasses and blood-red lipstick. ISAAC can hear them breathing at his window, but he has fifteen minutes before he’s open for business, and he treasures those fifteen minutes. Finally, he hears acryllic nails tapping on his window, and slowly turns, trying to keep his soul hidden.)

ISAAC: Hi.
CRABBY OLD WOMAN #1: Hello?
ISAAC: The box office opens at noon, so I just need you to wait fifteen minutes while I get everything set up.
CRABBY OLD WOMAN #1: I just have a quick question.
ISAAC: Is it really a quick question?
CRABBY OLD WOMAN #1: Yes.
ISAAC: OK. If it’s a quick question, I can answer it now, but if it’s a ticketing question, I’m going to have to ask you to wait fifteen minutes until I officially open for business.
CRABBY OLD WOMAN #1: It’s a quick question.
ISAAC: OK, what’s your question?

(Beat.)

CRABBY OLD WOMAN #1: Anything for the matinee?
ISAAC: Ma’am, that’s a ticketing question.
CRABBY OLD WOMAN #1: I only need one seat!

FIN.

Over to you, Nancy

From the Courage Campaign:

On Tuesday, a military board told Lt. Dan Choi — an Iraq War veteran and Arabic linguist — that it was recommending his discharge from the Army for “moral and professional dereliction” under the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy.

Despite this setback, Lt. Choi is not giving up. Dan is taking his fight to repeal the discriminatory “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy  to Congress and he needs your help as soon as possible.

Lt. Choi is going to personally deliver a letter to Nancy Pelosi, urging her to speak out publicly in favor of current legislation in Congress that would repeal the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy.

Click here to sign.

The name is apt

On the subway ride home last night the Aloof Actor and I sat diagonally across from each other and said nary a word, waved nary a hello.

Funny, that: to be ten feet away from someone with whom you’ve been naked on numerous occasions and pretend not to see them.  Just one of those New York agreements, I suppose; I held my end of the bargain by closing my eyes and listening to my iPod like it was my job while he read audition sides — the fucking actor.

It became clear when our stop was next that we’d have to acknowledge one another, what with getting up and walking to the same door to exit the train and all.  I decided I’d say hello then, maybe even remove one of my earbuds for extended pleasantries.  Yeah, cool like that, I thought, so what if he shot semen straight into my eye, I’ll still say hello to him and ask him how he is.

You know what he did?  He got up, his nose “buried” in his sides, and bolted to the end of the train car to exit.

Figures.

New York Moment

(ISAAC, TARA and ERICA are sitting in the box office, watching a clip of Gavin Creel performing “I’ve Got Life” on “Good Morning America.”)

ISAAC: He is so dreamy.
TARA: (touching her stomach) Oh! The baby is kicking. She must like him, too.
ISAAC: (to TARA’S womb) Back off, bitch!

FIN.

New York Moment

(ISAAC and MICAH are walking along Greenwich on the way to the train after eating slices of pizza.)

MICAH: Why are you not supportive of my going to seminary?
ISAAC: Because! I don’t know! I feel like you and I had very similar upbringings with our dads being ministers. I went to church every Sunday, sometimes twice every Sunday.
MICAH: When I was younger I wanted to go to seminary.
ISAAC: Right, but then you found God in musical theater and men!
MICAH: Yes, I did.
ISAAC: I don’t know why, maybe I’m not at an evolved enough place about this, but I still feel betrayed by organized religion. I grew up in it, but was sheltered from how hateful so many churches are towards us. It’s very painful.
MICAH: So what better reason than to work in it, to change that?
ISAAC: You’re right. I suppose it’s the equivalent of not moving to Canada.
MICAH: I want to go back to a safe haven of art and creativity. I’ve been going to church now, and it’s really –
ISAAC: So go to church and read some theological books. Don’t go to seminary. Will you have to be celibate? Where are you going to go to seminary?
MICAH: Up at Columbia!
ISAAC: Do they let gays in?
MICAH: Yes! It’s UCC. Wasn’t your dad UCC?
ISAAC: Yes.
MICAH: It’s “Open & Affirming”!
ISAAC: Do you know what a process it was for my dad’s church to become “Open & Affirming”? People had to be convinced. Can you imagine? There are regular churchgoers out there who need to be convinced to be open and affirming.
MICAH: I know.
ISAAC: That’s what’s painful. So does this mean I can’t talk to you about Manhunt anymore? Or will that be considered confession?

FIN.

Our Town

Tonight Micah and I went to see David Cromer’s magical production of “Our Town” at the Barrow Street Theater.  If you haven’t seen it already, you really should.

Frank Rich was there, and I could see him crying through my own steady tears.  I wanted to go up to him and thank him for all the awesome op-eds he’s been writing about gay issues, but it didn’t seem to be the right moment.  Oh well.

Please sign this

Click the image, or here, to sign the statement.

For your consideration

Tonight at Kim’s birthday shindig Melanie and I were playing with a Dirty Shakespeare magnetic word set and came up with some other options for my colloquial analingus replacement:

Thoughts?

The Full Monty

Yesterday, on the day of New York City Gay Pride, I went to New Jersey.  “Sacrilege!” you shout.  Hear me out: it was my gayest Pride Day yet; I went with Melanie, Rob, Jen, Anika, Eric and Marc to see Elaine Stritch in “The Full Monty” at the Papermill Playhouse.  I hear you conceding that, yes, that’s pretty gay.

As you can see, it was a packed house full of vibrant young theatergoers:

I love “The Full Monty.”  It’s got a great book and a clever score, and you root for the characters.  Elaine Stritch was very funny.  She worked the matinee crowd into as much of a tizzy as their medication would allow.

In related news, I now have a huge crush on Wayne Wilcox.  He played Jerry.  His eyes were striking even from the nosebleed seats and he sang a lovely “Breeze Off the River.”  He wore a pink triangle at curtain call that he kept pointing to while bowing, and shouted out, “Happy Pride!” at the end.  He was also in “Coram Boy,” which earns him extra points.

After the show we got martinis in bustling downtown Millburn:

And another round of martinis:

Which were followed by a few more back in Manhattan:

Sweet Jesus.  I suppose I can allow myself one day of Pride, but now I’m back to Shame.