You can choose compassion

Daddyhunt is a questionable homosexualist “dating” site and “app,” about which the best can be said is “It isn’t as ugly and unreadable as Recon.” I doubt it makes money. Even Grindère had to sell out – incredibly, to the Chinese. (That’s only one step down from ceding control of an application that geolocates gay males down to a few feet to, say, Saudi Arabia, or just Muslims.) I enjoy perusing dating sites, and in fact I wrote a consumer guide to BigMuscle(Bears), but all of them are awful.

Now those scamps at Daddyhunt, still unaware that everyone reads a C for the H in that name, have produced a “Web serial.” It’s not quite as bad as every other such thing (Where the Bears Are is the very lowest point in gay cinema), and in fact the first two minutes are a nice display of deadpan and underacting by Jim Newman. But the cute boy off the assembly line who plays opposite Jim? This B.J. Gruber is a breeder. “Daddycunt,” indeed.

But surely the following comment, by NewYorkRoger (for it is he), sums it up best? (Edited.) [continue with “Daddyhunt’s own goals” →]

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2016.02.08 15:09. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
http://blog.fawny.org/2016/02/08/daddyhuntserial/

The Kidnapping of Michel Houellebecq is a film whose title is easy to misread or misremember as The Killing of Michel Houellebecq. Nobody has a name like his, and I will always associate it and him with my old friend, who once asked me over AOL Instant Messenger if I had read Houellebecq’s then-recent book. My friend later had a depressive break, something he denied to my face, and now is convinced he has a stalker.

That’s halfway to the premise of a(n) Houellebecq novel and is spiritually akin to what passes for the plotline of The Kidnapping of Michel Houellebecq. Self-evidently he gets kidnapped or we wouldn’t have a title, let alone a movie. It is not clear to anyone why the kidnappers bothered. Two of the captors are Ben Maisani–manqué French tough guys, one of whom, not entirely unexpectedly, actually reads but more importantly subjects Houellebecq to hero worship. With a bit of recitation of poésie for the camera to make it all cinematic ’n’ shit.

Doing a double-bicep pose while reciting “And yet, for that action”
Doing delts while reciting “Of what tiger dreamt my mother”

Houellebecq teaches these brutes literary thinking and they teach him boxing and fighting. Seems fair to me. Like Craig Davidson v. Jonathan Ames, but split up and sparring against guys with shaven heads and striated forearms as God intended.

Shirtless tricep pose while Houellebecq looks on

Show this to any eldergay and he’ll have the same reaction I did, namely “I’d be perfect for these guys.” Some men hate and some men adore. I’ve known both and I’ve had both.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2016.01.22 15:36. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
http://blog.fawny.org/2016/01/22/houellebecq/


Straight to Hell is the storied chapbook/zine, active in the 1980s, that reprinted true-life homosexualist experiences. Its editor, Boyd McDonald, was a cautionary tale yet a model for a legitimately alternative way of life. He lived in what was essentially a fleabag boarding house, on a budget of next to nothing, for years if not decades. Yet McDonald was well known and widely read in high places and low places, which indeed was a theme of his, as we shall see.

Oliver Sacks should have read Straight to Hell

While one can find a few mostly legitimate online reproductions of stories submitted, I own not quite enough actual back issues of Straight to Hell. They are perfect bedside reading for any eldergay who thinks bodies are real and so is gay. Though in fact McDonald objected to “gay” as it was commonly expressed, and departed from house style at one point to publish an infamous editorial (Nº 48), complete with cartoon, denouncing the “Wax Fruit.” He and I certainly would have agreed that nothing is worse than a gay intellectual with a big dick.

Now we have Cruising the Movies: A Sexual Guide to Oldies on TV, reprinted by the preposterously named Semiotext(e) from the 1985 original. This thing was half-assedly OCRed, with errors all over the place (“annpits” for armpits, “peekers” for peckers), and contains an actual design credit (Hedi El Khoulti) despite looking like a Word for Windows printout in Adobe Garamond with no ligatures.

Rather in the vein of Mr. CRISP, who spent a lifetime in the “forgetting chamber” and would write about same for Christopher Street, McDonald would watch old movies as reruns on a black-and-white TV and bang something out on a typewriter for that same magazine. Both cinéastes understood that a star’s role is to be larger than life, unattainable, and in no respect a mere actor (or, worse, an “actress”). McDonald further posits that the function of cinema is to depict women. (The role of the actress is to look pretty.) Men, being pieces of meat (“eating stuff”), are strictly optional, and have value to Boyd only insofar as his imagination of their rods and bungholes took him. [continue with “‘Cruising the Movies’” →]

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2016.01.18 16:05. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
http://blog.fawny.org/2016/01/18/cruisingthemovies/


I’m accustomed to my esteemed colleague Jeff labelling himself a transgender ally (immediately repudiated by a tranny), but Bo Hedges takes the fucking cake.

I don’t train to be sexier; I train for greater functionality on the court and in everyday life. I’m also very aware that spinal-cord injury is one of the more heteronormative-looking disabilities you can have, especially since only the lower portions of my body are affected.

So let’s not talk about your cock, I guess, Bo. Or the naked picture you posed for in the article.

It’s very easy to make an athletic white male like me representative of disability and call it diversity.

He’s reaching for the word “supercrip” but is too young and brainwashed to know it.

Frankly, I’d prefer an outright homophobe, not that they exist any longer in sport at his age level.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2016.01.09 12:42. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
http://blog.fawny.org/2016/01/09/bohedges/

Mr. SICHA (q.v.) profiles Mr. TOVEY (q.v.) for the Times.

  • When Mr. SICHA writes that Tovey has “gay indie cred from HBO’s terrific Looking,” he means the opposite of the penultimate word. (He insists otherwise and I don’t believe him. Times style still pretends titles of artworks go in quotes. Good thing I’m here to correct them.)

  • Seated next to Stephen Fry, Tovey bombed epically on Just a Minute. Tovey alongside Fry (on the same panel as Julian Clary) gave the starkest proof Tovey has no relation to gay culture. I guess this is the future.

  • Tovey collects art, for the not uncommon reason that it makes up for something. And as an investment. Just a Minute:

    FRY: Funny thing is, if anyone in this room knows about Damien Hirst’s technique, it’s Russell Tovey. He owns quite a few of them, don’t you? You’re a big collector.

    TOVEY: No, I don’t – Hirst. But I collect art. Yeah, I wish I did have a Damien Hirst…. No, I wish I’d got in on.

    “I wish I’d gotten in on that” as opposed to “I like it.” Where the hell is Jerry Saltz when we need him, I ask without a question mark.

  • Tovey’s French bulldog, like all those lamentable creatures, is an abomi·fucking·nation. Which is worse pandering: Instagram photos of that snoutless hound or Mr. TOVEY shirtless?

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2016.01.09 11:43. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
http://blog.fawny.org/2016/01/09/art-tovey-hound/

Here by Richard McGuire, an update of an old chapter in Raw that I don’t remember, takes its second shot at a new graphic form and hits the bullseye dead centre.

80,000,000 BCE: Tyrannosaurus walks out of frame. Inset, 2005: Man on phone says “So he’ll have to camp out in the living room. He can sleep on the sofa bed”

We are situated at a fixed point on the earth; each spread shows a different year, with inset boxes on each spread showing other years. A simple, powerful concept. And now no one, not even McGuire, will be able to do this again without coming off as derivative.

  • 1993: Living room set up for musical chairs. Inset, 1988: Man with arm on woman’s hand saying “How did we meet” Inset, 1623: Buck leaps away
  • 1943: Living room with wallpaper, rugs, fireplace. Inset, 1986: Woman scrubs floor, muttering “Eventually I’ll know nothing.” Inset, 1430: Wolf trots off with an animal’s leg, stump bloody
  • 1949: Living room with wallpaper, rugs, fireplace. “Drip,” someone says out of frame. Countless insets with other insults from different years: weirdo, dipshit, dirtbag, klutz, dweeb, wacko. Inset, 2111: Water floods in through a broken window

The book’s typography is poor, and the aboriginal language shown (with diacritics) is surely a simulation. But you don’t need to read this book, merely look at it, and its lesson is profound.

  1. We are shown the earth billions of years ago and thousands of years into the future, which by implication means the entire lifespan of the planet. We see the planet when it was barely more than a lake.

  2. One way or another, everyone, and every being, portrayed in Here’s pages will die. Even beings in the future will die.

  3. Observed from this timeless vantage point (perhaps not located on solid ground in the first place, adding to the noncorporeal godlike sense), one comes to understand that, however important life and death are, the only response is one of acceptance, of equanimity bounded only by the creation and destruction of the world.

  4. Even after the earth is destroyed, the same vantage point will still exist. What will we observe then?

The lessons of Here are as grand, cosmic, and profound as I make them appear. Reading it, which can and should be done in one sitting, radically recalibrated my sense of time. “We’ll see how long that lasts” is the obvious cynical reaction, but I get the impression the answer is “forever.”

Runner-up

Second greatest surprise of the year was provided by Norwegian Wood, which really is about chopping down firewood in the Islamic Republic of Norway. The English version is a beautifully designed object and is only slightly overlong.

Two-page spread: Type one one page, pile of logs and axe on snow-covered ground on the other

I now have a bizarre and counterfactual inkling to wield an axe.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2016.01.04 14:20. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
http://blog.fawny.org/2016/01/04/here/

Earlier entries →

Values you enter are stored and may be published.

  

Search for very early blog entries, and for anything else on fawny.org:

  

Information

Other reading

Popular topics

Photographs to look atTypography; graphic design; the death of design criticismLeslievilleTTCCanadian EnglishAccessibility

Archives by date

Just add /year/month/day/ to the end of site’s URL, blog.fawny.org. You can add just /year/month/, or just /year/, if you wish. Years are four-digit, month and day two-digit (with padding zero below 10). For example:

Very old archives are still available.

Archives by category

Copyright © 2004–2016

You enjoy fawny.blog