The Julian Schnabel film 'Before Night Falls' based on the life of gay Cuban novelist Reinaldo Arenas is beautiful and lovingly made. Thought provoking, powerful, shocking and visionary, I am now scrambling to revisit Arenas' works. The film is a sweeping account of his poverty stricken childhood in Castro's Cuba, suppression and imprisonment as an artist/homosexual, flight to New York and his sad death in New York City. Deeply engrossed in, 'Singing From The Well' the first novel which is part of a quintet he called the 'Pentagonia'. Masterful handling of a narrative style that walks a haunting tightrope between heaven and hell. Also recommended, a book of short stories titled 'My Deep Dark Pain Is Love, A Collection Of Latin American Gay Fiction'.
4:16 PM :
Friday, January 12, 2001
An unusual January fog has settled into the city, the landscape changes.
10:02 PM :
Thursday, January 11, 2001
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay, my head just feels in pain, I missed the bus an they'll be hell today, I'm late for work again, and even if I'm there, they'll all imply, that I might not last the day, and then you call me and its not so bad... its not so bad...and I ...
3:39 PM :
Wednesday, January 10, 2001
Missing dailiness from you of course you and how can I forget you. Looking forward to futuristic and freshly regular entries, recaps, pictures, adventures, stories both anecdotal and x-rated and why yes, that was me clutching my Jonathan Adler 'aorta' vase and running through SoHo, sporting a rather new wave fresh face gen art inspired combo of Wynn Smith (Wink), Orfi and trusty Carhartt.
2:22 PM :
Tuesday, January 09, 2001
The Brilliant Images of England Project is a three year super collaboration of some 700 plus photographers who are engaged in a mission to photograph every historically and architecturally important building in Great Britain to create an online database. This high-tech preservation project will record how each of the country's 360,000 protected, structures looked at the outset of the 21st century. An ambitious and exciting project that will create an amazing online storehouse of images and visual reference for artist and architect alike. Shutter bugs are snapping like crazy with the aid of The English Heritage National Monuments Record
6:42 PM :
Monday, January 08, 2001
I decide to run further today, push on past the three mile marker. Sweaty and slightly overheated I am somewhat spent. My heart counts beats, my breathing keeps my pace, a machine working and turning to propel me forward. My gray sweats are soaked, top heavy with layers of warmth, running in the cold winter air is beautiful and foolish. I am spitty and glowing, my cropped hair is mussed, I am ruddy and boyish. I can almost bring down a handful of cerulean sky, block the right uppercut of wind chasing the cumulus clouds as I race to the shoreline. The sun sparks and glistens, flickering glow of a late lazy northern winter afternoon. I press on, past the handsome couple with the happy black dogs, I jump the wooden fence running round the pavilion where we used to have snowball fights. I heard the lake is frozen this year, heading toward the open area past the paper birch trees, in anticipation. Abruptly, I hit the jagged cliff charging down the black cast iron stairs that lead to the beach head. The expanse is an achromatic dream state where the arctic sky falls rich and sweet, a midnight blue stain that bleeds from fractures racing, fissures halted by the gray green cement. Quiet solemn winter, peaceful and unapologetic coolness. I can see the fisherman out near the breakers and head through the deep snow taking flight on the ice. Half mile to grasp the crown of massive break wall, to shake hands with the northern most horizon line that pays in beautiful visions. I breathe Boreas, god of the north wind, swallow his silver pill that will test my sanity and endurance. I make the wall and walk the path to claim the glory of this winter day. The earth stands like iron where my lake has turned to stone.
4:58 PM :
