At risk of coming off completely crass and uncaring, the gentleman in Torrington Connecticut with the 13 year old son who allowed a 14 year old friend to set him on fire has really misdirected his anger in blaming the MTV show Jackass. At 13 years old, I think most normal kids realize setting themselves on fire after dousing their clothes with gasoline is not a good idea. Hey, I loved the Superman movies at that age, but I didn't go jumping off buildings. Ya know? MTV airs a warning, and even the guy apparently told his son not do try doing anything like it. The kid was old enough to know better.

Wow. Been a whole two weeks since I've added new material here. It's not that I've been lazy, it's that we have temporarily lost our internet connection at home and so the only place I can write from is work, and that's not always so easy. Looks likely that I'l be back up and running at home the early part of next week. Then I can blog my brains out again.

The sun-like star HD 168443, 123 light years away in the constellation Serpens, has two monster planets orbiting it . . . both of these planets are big, but one is so huge that it makes the whole system "truly bizarre" . . . One thing most people don't know about me is that I'm a big space geek. The first thing I ever dreamed of being as a child was an astronaut. That's probably a pretty common childhood dream, but the interest in astronomy and space exploration has stayed with me (unlike some of my follow-up interests such as becoming a magician or a teacher). To this day I search out news articles like the one above and get all excited by them. When I was in college, and the space shuttle Challenger exploded, I cried all day. I was very shaken up by it. I was taking a documentary film production class at the time and I made a film that very day about the tragedy and how it affected me. I talked about how my generation didn't really have any true hero's - we didn't remember JFK being killed - and this was the first loss of real hero's for us. I remember it was just my voice on the soundtrack and I was sobbing. I was embarrassed and hesitant to show it at the weekly screening for the class, but everyone stayed absolutely silent and my professor declared it "shattering and daringly honest". Others in my class came up to me afterwards and told me that they felt the same way I did about the incident. I still say a little prayer each time I watch a live shuttle launch. I'll guess I'll probably never stop being a closet space geek.

I've never purchased a Ricky Martin CD, although I've been a fan of some of his songs (and I've most certainly enjoyed looking at him since way before he ever became a "sensation"). However, I now think it unlikely that I will ever be able to buy one of his albums due to his unfortunate choice to perform at George Dubya's inauguration. Why Ricky, why?

"The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight, but has no vision." - Helen Adams Keller, American memoirist, lecturer

Tomorrow night, MTV will air "Anatomy of a Hate Crime", about the Matthew Shepard murder. The film will be followed by a half-hour discussion about the effects of discrimination on today's youth. MTV will then do something rather astounding - they will discontinue all programming from 10 p.m. Wednesday until 3:30 p.m. Thursday, and instead will air a continuous scroll of several hundred names (which will repeat six times in total) of people who have lost their lives since the early 1990's due to hate crimes. During those hours, MTV will lose about $2 million in ad revenue. Seems that this is all in response to some sort of guilt MTV is feeling. The network is in large part responsible for the mainstream success of rapper Eminem, who's lyrics espouse homophobia and misogyny. In the last year, MTV has provided him with tons of video airplay, and in addition have given him numerous other opportunities to promote his album, including a performance on its 2000 Video Music Awards show (during which the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Discrimination (GLAAD) waged anti-Eminem protests outside). A spokesman for MTV has stated that they have recently backed away from inviting the rapper to participate in its events since he was no longer "an artist we wanted to get behind," although they will continue to air Eminem video's which meet their standards. Does somebody at the network have a conscience? Are they suddenly feeling a twinge of social responsibility? Are they to be commended or are they hypocrites? Personally, I don't get the whole Eminem thing. The only explanation for his huge success is that MTV pushed him. Before MTV he was a novelty, but hardly an artist worth any sort of critical acclaim (Grammy nominations?!?) or massive exposure. Although I'm pleased to see MTV take the issue of hate crimes so seriously, I have to wonder if it's a little too late. They created a monster and now seem to trying, to some extent, to patch up their mistake. Maybe someone at the network should have listened to Eminem's lyrics before they decided to back him so fully. The damage might already be done. You can go here to read GLAAD's official standing on Eminem.

"The Carnival season officially begins on January 6th, which is Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany. Twelfth Night is the date that marks the end of the Christmas season and the beginning of the countdown to Lent. There are two official celebrations that mark the beginning of Carnival: The bal masque of the Twelfth Night Revelers, and the ride of the Phunny Phorty Phellows along St. Charles Avenue. From January 6th on up to three weeks before Mardi Gras, Carnival organizations hold parties, dances and balls, mostly on weekends. About three weekends before Mardi Gras, the parades begin. From the second weekend before Mardi Gras up to Fat Tuesday, there is at least one parade each night in the city, Metairie, or on the West Bank. The entire celebration culminates on Fat Tuesday, with the entire city taking the day off to eat, drink, parade and party. Carnival officially comes to a close promptly at midnight on Fat Tuesday, when the police begin clearing the streets of the French Quarter. On a more civilized level, Carnival officially closes with the meeting of the courts of Rex and Comus at the ball of the Mystick Krewe of Comus." It's time to start thinking about Mardi Gras, folks. You don't have to live in New Orleans to get into the spirit. Read all about it over at Chuck Taggarts Gumbo Pages site which includes a great FAQ sheet about Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday and all things Carnival at the Carnival FAQ.

It's not a frickin cupcake recipe. These guys were doing liquor, ecstasy, cocaine, percodan AND "K" all in one night? Umm, HELLO!!!??? Pick a drug, use it, and don't mix and match!

Seeing Puppetry of the Penis, a show which just closed in London's West End, would have (all by itself) been worth the price of a quick weekend trip. I can't imagine what the hell they do to fill up an entire show, but I'd love to find out. Perhaps I'm under-estimating the entertainment potential of my own penis. Seems like if they can come up with a whole show, I should at least be able to think up a few party tricks.

When my mother passed away in October 1997, it was devastating to me. It was therefore a bit shocking when, about a year later, my Dad started dating another woman. I'm ashamed to say that I was angry with him about it at first. I didn't want anyone to take my mother's place in his life. I did some hard thinking about it, and fairly quickly I realized that he needed to move on with his life and I was being selfish. He couldn't mourn my mother forever. He is still an active and healthy man in his 70's. I assume he still has a healthy sex drive, and I know that it must have been very difficult to suddenly not have a partner to just spend time with, to travel with, to talk to. It was clear the first time I met her that this new woman in his life was sweet, caring, and a perfect companion for him. She was a widow, and my father reassured us kids that neither of them had any interest in it being anything more than a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. Neither wanted another spouse. So, as time has passed, I've become quite comfortable with her. She is a positive part of my father's life, she makes him happy, and I want him to be happy more than anything. However (you knew there had to be a however), last night as we were leaving the restaurant I had a very uncomfortable and embarrassing moment when I called her "Mom". I wanted Curt to take our picture, and as I was looking for a nice spot overlooking Boston Harbor, I meant to say, "Curt, could you take a picture of Mary Jane, Dad and me?" but instead the "M" in her name turned into "Mom." I stopped in mid-sentence, totally befuddled by my goof. It took me a few seconds before I got my thought clear and started my question again. No one mentioned anything about it, although Curt noticed, so I can only assume she and my Dad did too. It startled me. I was distracted by the though of what had happened for the rest of the night. I kept hearing it over and over again in my mind. It hit me hard for several reasons I think. First of all, it connoted a sense of comfort about their relationship, and her place in my life, that I'm not sure I consciously am truly that comfortable with. Second, I felt bad that I had invoked the term "Mom" and applied it to someone other than my real mother. I felt a little like I had abandoned her (although I know that is ridiculous). Third, I felt sadness about not being able to truly say "Take a picture of Mom, Dad and me" ever again. It made me realize how much I miss her and still feel her loss. I know I'm over analyzing what happened. I know it was just a stupid brain fart which probably doesn't mean anything at all. Still, the flub was followed up just a moment later with yet another cosmic whack over the head when a premonition I'd had came true. There is a picture, taken in 1991, of myself with my mother and father here in Boston. It used to sit in a frame in my office. I am between them, with my father on my left and my mother on my right. My arms are around both of them. I'd been thinking about that picture all week and kept thinking it was inevitable that I was going to have an identical picture taken with my father and his girlfriend. Sure enough, as we got into position for the picture Curt was taking of us last night, I had tried to put her in the middle, but she moved away at the last moment and insisted that I take the spot next to my Dad. Before I could protest, there I was having my picture taken with my Dad on my left and his girlfriend on my right. Looking at the two pictures today, even our arm placements are the same. It is just a little too strange.

At 35 years old, I still "straightened up" the house for my father and his girlfriend before they came to visit. He lives almost 6 hours away, so visits are rare and welcome, but I couldn't help but be amused at myself as I put away the porn DVD's and hid a few of the magazines we had in the bathroom. They weren't even hardcore, just Unzipped and Instinct. Upon reflection, I was doing it more for his girlfriend than my father. I really don't know her all that well and I care enough about building a relationship with her that I don't want to do anything (or have anything laying around) that might shock or offend her. I'm not as concerned about my dad, who used to leave his own porn magazines laying around the house when I was a kid. He'd be totally cool with it. In fact, he'd probably be amused.

Okay, now I'm not one to place labels on anyone, or jump to any conclusions, but Jeff Varner must be the gay guy on Survivor II. Just read his bio.

Here we are, looking waaaay too gay, on Thursday night. Usually we're very butch . . . really we are!

David, at graceless.org has quite an amusing site. He seems to have a lot of the same interests as I do. He's also quite adept at capturing screen shots of cute men, including the men of the new Survivor II series. Check them out at the link right here. Looks like I'm going to have to watch.

I love to travel, although I haven't had much opportunity to in recent years (a situation I hope to rectify in the near future). At one point I sat down and wrote out some of my most vivid recollections of those trips. Recently I found those notes, and here's what I said:

• Arriving in Venice, Italy, in the evening exhausted from traveling and being lost in the maze of small streets searching for our hotel. It seemed surreal and dream-like, as if I'd stepped onto a movie set.
• Waking up in Innsbruck, Austria, to find it had snowed in the night. It was magical.
• Seeing wild parrots for the first time in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico, and searching everywhere in the oppressive August heat for bottled water.
• Being bitten by a monkey in Florida.
• Spending an evening watching films at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah.
• Having pit-roasted Salmon at the lodge where the shot the pilot for the tv show "Twin Peaks" in Washington.
• Being bored and broke with Mario in Munich, Germany. Wandering the streets in freezing weather and eating at McDonald's each night because we couldn't afford anything else.
• Being taken on a road trip to Belgium by friends while staying in Amsterdam.
• Having a last, crazy night in the French Quarter in New Orleans with good friends.
• Getting lost in Hyde Park in London, and getting lost in Harrods.
• Discovering Sante Fe, New Mexico, to be one of the most spiritual places I've ever been. Staring out at the New Mexico desert and thinking, "God is here".

"While it is true that 1.5% of home accidents are caused by large penis related incidents, only a small number have ever been known to be fatal. A large penis is a friend as well as a foe. Treat it as such." Thank God. Help has finally arrived.

Sometimes it really is all about Eve. Last night a group of us met out for drinks after work, and afterwards Curt, Eve and I decided to head to Ginza in chinatown for some sushi. Unknown to us, the demure (perhaps that should be divine) Ms. E knows her way around a sushi menu and is pretty good at kickin' back the sake, too. After a few appetizers, soup, a sushi and sashimi boat and (of course) generous libations, we were all feeling pretty damn good and weren't quite ready to call it a night yet. Naturally, Eve surprises Curt and I (as she often does) by suggesting we head over to the infamous Hollywood KTV. Now, KTV is this place on the border of Chinatown and what was once known as the Combat Zone. It is an establishment that appears closed, perhaps even vacant, almost every time you walk by it. It has generated no small amount of curiosity in me, my friends, and co-workers. No one I've known has ever been able to say for sure what kind of bar it is. Being in a "seedy" neighborhood, it is generally assumed by most people to be a hooker and drug bar. It has certainly intimidated both myself and everyone I know adequately to keep us from exploring it further, and that's saying something. Everyone, that is, except Eve. Seems that Eve has patronized Hollywood KTV several times and it is, in fact, an asian karaoke bar. Walking in, we initially try to go upstairs - inticed by the scent of pot being smoked in the staircase (we're all thinking that this might turn out to be REALLY fun), but are stopped by a cute asian guy who indicates that we should proceed instead to the downstairs bar. We walk in and take seats at a table. We have a great view of the rest of the bar, where tables full of half-drunk young asians are drinking and passing the karaoke microphone around. We weren't entirely welcomed with open arms. At first the waitress tries to get us to pay a cover charge of $10 each, but then offers to let it slide and to let us sing if we all agree to buying several drinks each. Gesh, twist our arms, will ya? As the night passes on we are pretty much ignored, both by the other patrons and the waitress (despite tipping generously in an effort to make an ally), but regardless we are all intrigued sufficiently enough so that we don't much care. At least they didn't make us feel unwelcomed, so that was good enough to keep us there. Eve is in heaven because she loves to sing (and she surprised us with her vocal talents. Who knew?), Curt is in heaven because he loves smooth, skinny boys, and the place is packed with them, and I'm totally loving the fact that we are literally the ONLY caucasians in the whole place. I feel like I've just landed in another country. People are singing in Vietnamese and Chinese. Low budget video's with all-asian casts accompanied the Karaoke. There is no stage, the way it is done at the Hollywood is that you just sit at your table and pass the microphone around. No one claps for you, no one really pays much attention. It's just something that you do, like smoking a cigarette or telling a joke. It's much more laid back than most American karaoke bars which put you on display. Here, it didn't matter if you were good or not. In fact, it was hard to tell exactly who was singing most of the time. It was actually pretty fun, and I felt comfortable enough (and got drunk enough) so that I even joined Eve for a few numbers. I was awful, Eve was great. After several drinks and a few musical selections (from the very small list of songs in English, most of which were incorrectly titled, so you're never 100% sure if you're going to get the song you think), we proceeded across the street to Bernie's Bar, yet another establishment that is scary enough from the outside to keep most people out of it. Naturally, Eve had been there before too. Turns out, THAT's the hooker bar. Made friends with Jimmy the bartender and I watched helplessly as my Curt and Eve lost their battle with inebriation. Somehow I didn't quite fare as badly as they did. Can't wait to see where Eve will take us next.

I may have discovered my life's calling. I'm weak in the knees just thinking about it. A co-worker (a straight, rough, rugged, outdoors type) was telling a few of us about one of his first jobs working on a horse farm near New Hope, Pennsylvania. They would artificially inseminate the female horses and it was his job to put on long, elbow-length rubber gloves and jack off the male horses to collect the sperm. Man, some guys have all the frickin luck!

Just had lunch with the girls, Walter, Dana, Lowell and Tim, at Hibernia. We dished about prostitutes, DVD's, strippers and kitty's that die on Christmas eve. Walter was shocked to learn that I'd never been arrested. Why does that seem so hard to believe, I want to know? But then again, he can't even remember which movies he's rented before ("Yes, Walter, you've already rented Shaving Ryan's Privates") It was all great fun and I hope we can make it a semi-regular event.

Oh goody! According to the "Kill Your Weblog" test I can keep my Blog and even have a shot of someone noticing it eventually. How lovely for me.

Yesterday at the brunch table: Cory to Wendy: "Do you want to trade places with me so you don't have to look at all the butts standing at the bar?" Wendy to Cory:"No thanks, but do you want to trade places with me so that you can look at all the butts at the bar?"

"Imagine the people who believe such things and who are not ashamed to ignore, totally, all the patient findings of thinking minds through all the centuries since the Bible was written. And it is these ignorant people, the most uneducated, the most unimaginative, the most unthinking among us, who would make themselves the guides and leaders of us all; who would force their feeble and childish beliefs on us; who would invade our schools and libraries and homes. I personally resent it bitterly..." -- Isaac Asimov, Canadian Atheists Newsletter, 1994

If you peruse a variety of web journals, one thing you'll probably notice when you get to mine is that I'm a wee bit older than most people doing this. It's with a mixture of amusement and envy that I read the web logs of the younger queer boys - still in (or just recently graduated from) school, still angst ridden and trying to figure out their futures, wondering if and when they'll ever meet the man of their dreams. They frequently will remind me of myself at that age. I was wondering what my Blog's would have been about if I'd had been able to do this in my early twenties. I was such a different person then. I would have been writing about ACT-UP and the wonderful, maddening, impossible relationships I was building there, and all the anger and frustration I felt about the AIDS crisis (now, many of those people are dead, and most of the rest I have lost touch with). I'd be talking about this new group called Queer Nation which was going to make a real difference. I would talk dismissively about my work (little did I know that 10 years later I'd still be there and a director of my own department no less). I'd be talking about my relationship - how I stilled loved and lived with the boy I'd met freshman year in college, but how our paths seemed to be diverging (probably doing a lot of rationalizing about that). I'd be talking about the screenplay I was writing, or the photography I was doing, or the video I wanted to make. I'd go on and on about working out, clubbing, and hot guys (gee, I guess some things never change). I'd be commenting on the latest idea's I had about spirituality, God, and my own evolving beliefs. I wouldn't be talking about cooking or writing music. I wouldn't even know the people who would become my best friends, or the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I'd know nothing about how wonderful my family would grow to be. I'd feel much more entitled and angry and lost. I read some Blogs and think back on myself at a younger age, and I smile a lot. Life changes and evolves. The person you are now won't be the person you will be in 10 years. All those things that seem so important now will probably be hard to remember. Maybe sometimes I still sound a little entitled and angry and lost, but I think for the most part I'm a happy person. I hope that comes through. Perhaps it's true that you mellow with age. Certainly, my 30's have (so far) been far better than my 20's were. These days, more often than not, I feel happy and lucky and blessed. My life hasn't given me everything I wanted, but it has given me most of what I really need, and a few things I never expected that have turned out to be incredible gifts. So this is the Blog of one guy, a little older than the rest, happy to report that, for the most part, the trip is worth it. Hang in there boys!

Seems that I'm not the only one these days with the James Marsden thang. I don't know you, Brant, but you have excellent taste in men.

Is it just me, or does this picture that I took today of Rob, Curt and Wendy look like a Guess Jeans ad? All that's lacking is a gay couple kissing in the background.

It is 01 01 01. Feeling the need to do something to ring in the new year (other than sitting in front of the TV with popcorn and beers), we headed out last night to Vapor (Chaps/Vapor, whatever) because two years ago we had a great time there with a group of friends. We were to be joined for a little boozin and cruizin (okay, maybe just boozin and dancing) by that dashing newlywed couple, Rob and Wendy, as soon as they finished their dinner. So we walk into Vapor/Chaps, whatever it's called now, and they were asking $25 per-person to get in. We just couldn't justify paying $50 for the two of us to go into a club we're at all the time (yeah, we're cheap-o's), much less $100 for the four of us, so we turned around and quickly decided on plan B, which was to spend $5 each to get into the Eagle. Turns out the kids (that's Rob and Wendy) were eating right down the street at Aquitaine (having, I might add, a not so great experience there thanks to their oh-so-full of attitude waiter). So they were just two blocks away when we called them on their cell phone, and they were standing next to us in the Eagle with drinks in their hands 15 minutes later. The Eagle turned out to be perfect, since we were all in a pretty mellow mood. Not too crowded, but festive and filled with happy people. Celebrated at midnight with a fruity shot (Midori, Malibu Rum and pineapple juice - known to us as an "Alien Secretion" thanks to cute bartender John at Paradise), then went back to Rob and Wendy's for a little bubbly. It was not the craziest out of control New Years I've ever had, but it was nice anyway. Seemed strange to be ringing in the year 2001. That's a movie, not a year. At noon we joined the Kids again for brunch at Fritz, then did a little shopping. Back to work tomorrow. Blech.