“Suppose you listen to me for a change?… I said listen to me! I’m tired of being pushed around. Tired of being told what to do. Tired of writing your god-darned articles. Tired of dancing to everybody else’s tune. Tired of being told whom to marry. In short… I’m tired!” That Barbara Stanwyck tirade from […]
But It’s Not Like Christmas at All Read More »
My mom and her sister took turns having kids in the 1980s: I was born in ’83, my brother in ’84, and cousins followed in ’85 and ’86. Together we spent our childhoods running around our grandparents’ house, with the exception of a cousin we’ll call Brandon, who rolled. Born without use of his legs
You Can Have It All Read More »
I found an old Modern Library edition of Sigmund Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams at a book fair when I was 11 or 12, its dust jacket tattered but mostly intact, and purchased it with great excitement, convinced it would unlock insight into my unconscious that might allow me, perhaps, to finally understand myself. That
All I Have to Do is Dream Read More »
No film has ever touched me more deeply than Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers, which portrays the reunion of three sisters, one of whom (Harriet Andersson) is dying of cancer. She is nursed through her agony by a servant (Kari Sylwan) who shows her more humanity than her unhappy siblings. Sylwan cradling Andersson to her
Gratitude and Ambivalence Read More »
Our earliest friendships are often rooted in little more than physical proximity and mine were no exception. My first best friend was naturally my brother, the second the girl next door, but there was scant more to our bond than that. When we were four or five years old, her family moved to a nicer
“Merry Christmas, I’m Gay” Read More »
Last night I logged only four hours of fitful sleep, which is to say I was already suffering enough without Boy Meets Girl’s “Waiting for a Star to Fall” unexpectedly joining the rotation of my overnight unconscious jukebox. A couple weeks ago I heard it at the pharmacy while awaiting my flu shot and COVID
Waiting for a Star to Fall Read More »
Watching Right of Way recently, with Bette Davis and James Stewart as elderly spouses conspiring to end their lives together, I couldn’t help but think of other films with suicidal characters. Two were mentioned unfavorably in my review: Hal Ashby’s Harold and Maude and Tom Moore’s g’night, Mother, adapted by Marsha Norman from her play.
Another anniversary’s in the books. To commemorate the occasion, Crankenstein and I attended a couple of museum exhibits and enjoyed overpriced carryout under the watchful eye of Muriel, who wedged herself between us on the couch afterward during The Exorcist. We discussed the underwhelming state of our marriage (which does not yet require the services
Is a marriage really a marriage if you never think about divorce? This month marks nine years since Crankenstein and I started dating, eight since our engagement, and six since we were married. Some of those years were happy, others a mixed bag. More than once we’ve discussed ending things altogether. We persist partly because we’re
You Decide What’s Good Read More »
My former partner bought our tickets to Cher’s Dressed to Kill Tour as soon as the sale went live in the fall of 2013. The show was scheduled for months later, which gave her adequate time to acquire the tank top she wanted that questionably depicted the iconic performer as Che Guevara. Together we had
If I Could Turn Back Time Read More »