In which The Gay Recluse updates his informal but rather telling quantitative analysis of Modern Love, the weekly Style Section (of The Times) column in which openly gay writers almost never appear, and even less frequently describe a romantic relationship.
This week’s piece: A Wedding Invitation for a Mom Long Gone by Julie Buxbaum
Subject: As a woman gets married, she ruminates on her dead mother. Unfortunately we found this column rather long-winded and depressing to the extent that the writer seems to want us to believe she is not conventional — because she orders wedding invitations from Costco and is aware of the “wedding-industrial complex” — even while she rather aggressively embraces a “destination” wedding. Far more interesting and moving to us were the descriptions of her relationship (both past and ongoing) with her dead mother, which we tried to emphasize in our gay and impressionistic alternative to the piece.
Filed under: Straight Woman on “Family”
The updated tally (or why we feel like animals in the zoo): 7 out of 178 columns by openly gay writers; 2 out of 178 on female gay relationships; 0 out of 178 on male gay relationships. In what is arguably the “gayest” section of The Times, more women have written about gay men than gay men have.
Straight Woman on Relationships iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii ii (42)
Straight Woman on Family iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii i (36)
Straight Woman on “Looking for Love” iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii (35)
Straight Woman on Breaking Up iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iii (23)
Straight Man on Relationships iiiii iiiii i (11)
Straight Man on Breakup iiiiii (6)
Straight Woman on Gay Men iiiii i (6)
Straight Man on Family iiiii i(6)
Straight Man on “Looking for Love” iiiii (5)
Gay Man on Family ii (2)
Gay Woman on Relationship ii (2)
Gay Woman on Family i (1)
Gay Man on Self-Hatred i (1)
Gay Man on Prom Date i (1)
Ambiguous/Nurse on Drugs i (1)
Filed under: Gay, Language, Search, Stereotypes, The Gay Recluse, The Times | Leave a Comment
Tags: Animals, Daniel Jones, Gay Modern Love, Julie Buxbaum, Modern Love, The New York Times, Zoos
In which The Gay Recluse presents a gay/impressionistic alternative to this week’s Modern Love offering in The Times. Those looking for our quantitative analysis should click here.
SEVEN months ago, I was married in an ivory lace dress to a woman in a gray suit on an island neither of us had ever been to.
My mother was not there because she has been dead for so long that the scales have recently tipped: I have seen more days without her than with.
I was blindsided by the fact that wedding rituals — the big dress shop, the bridal shower, the planning — seemed designed to highlight her absence.
My girlfriend didn’t even want a wedding.
I didn’t want the typical wedding either. I couldn’t visualize myself in a white dress, walking down a long aisle.
But I knew my mother would have wanted one. “No wedding?” she would have said. “Over my dead body.”
After we decided to have one, there was the dress, the bridal shower and the question of how to honor my mother at the wedding.
For the dress, I forced my brother to come shopping with me. He cooed. No tears, maybe, but I got a “Beautiful!” or two.
I cried at the bridal shower when my mother’s friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in close to 16 years, said: “She would have been so proud of you.”
I was better at the wedding, though. I don’t know why. My friends helped; the moments when I might have pined for her were instead filled with Champagne.
And I know my mother was there, because I didn’t feel deprived, not even for a single moment.
And in the end, I even found a way to integrate my mother into the dress. I salvaged the ivory lace flowers from her decades-old wedding gown and stitched them onto my veil. It was my silent tribute.
For that one single day, I somehow managed to let go of everything I believed about life and death and earth and sky. I forgot about the limitations of mortality, about absence and finality and regret.
Instead, I knew my mother was there with me — in that piece of her dress, or in the wind, or in the crowd squinting up at us — with her own wedding gift of sorts: one more day for my “with her” column, which was one day fewer that I have lived without.
Most miraculous of all, I knew she had forgiven me for never telling her I was gay.
Filed under: Dissonance, Dream, Gay, Longing, Memory, Search, Stereotypes, The Gay Recluse, The Times | Leave a Comment
Tags: Bridal Showers, Death, Dresses, Gay Modern Love, Julie Buxbaum, Lace, The New York Times, Weddings
In which The Gay Recluse asks a reader to think more conceptually.
In response to our recent Franco Harris Hot Gay Statue submission, Reader Queerunity writes:
all football players wear spandex, why is this gay?
We’re posting this comment — and thanks for bringing this up, Queerunity — because we think it raises an interesting point about the literal-minded nature of many people we’ve met (which is not to say Queerunity is part of this group), who tend to restrict their understanding of what is and isn’t gay, often with the underlying purpose of eradicating any reference to the millions of gays who existed (and made art) between the years of say, 500 BC and 1968, when you could pretty much be sent to the gallows for mentioning the words “hot” and “gay” in the same sentence.
So with regard to our Hot Gay Franco Harris Statue submission, we understand it to be gay because a gay reader took a picture of what he considered to be a smokin’ hot male ass (albeit a fake one). So yeah if you want to be really technical (and humorless) about it, the unstated implication here is that of course the statue isn’t “gay” — although we call it gay to be funnee ha ha — much less the person it represents (or those who wear spandex) but the photograph, which is obviously a reflection of the person taking it. As in literature (and many other arts), the gay voice (or here you might say the “gay eye”) doesn’t necessarily have to be represented by say, two dudes (or two ladies) fucking (although it might), but can shine through even when the subject matter — at least on its surface — makes no reference at all to anyone being gay. Try reading “hot bear” Henry James or Virginia Woolf and you’ll see what we mean. Or watch some Pasolini. Or listen to Husker Du. Etc. etc. etc.
Filed under: Athletes, Conspiracy, Gay, Hot Gay Statues, Language, Letters, Literature, Photography, Stereotypes, The Gay Recluse | Leave a Comment
Tags: Football, Franco Harris, Gay, Hot Gay Statues, Spandex
In which The Gay Recluse holds a contest. Sort of.
Today we received an interesting submission from Reader Troy, who writes to us from Pittsburgh:
I have an important question for The Gay Recluse. In the Pittsburgh airport there is a statue of Franco Harris, who I have no reason to believe is gay. Yet the statue seems very gay! And maybe even hot? Is this possible? Am I losing my mind?
Well Reader Troy, that’s a true dilemma, but one that can be rather easily resolved by checking out the pix. Let’s take a look, shall we?
Hmm. So far, this statue doesn’t seem too gay to us, much less hot (much less smokin’). In fact, those upper arms are a little scary, kinda “manorexic”? But before we pass judgment, let’s see what else we have.
Hell-o! We’re starting to see what you mean, Troy. On second glance, this statue of Franco Harris is apparently quite gay, and not afraid to show it!
Ok, we’re convinced: not only is this statue gay, but it’s also quite smokin’.
Thanks for the submission, Troy. We were admittedly skeptical at first, but you have shed some interesting light on one of civilization’s longstanding mysteries. Next time someone asks, we’ll be able to say: “Who cares who the statue’s supposed to represent? The only questions are 1) whether it’s gay and 2) whether it’s smokin’ hot.” In this case, we would answer both questions in the affirmative.
Readers, please send us your hot-gay statue submissions! There are a gazillion statues in the United States, and we want to figure out which ones are gay. (And hot!)
The Hot Gay Statue Contest Roundup:
- Rules and Guidelines
- Dan Savage Endorsement
- Washington Heights (New York City)
- Washington, DC
- The London Eye Clarifies an Important Issue
- Florence (Italy)
- The Park Avenue Amory (Upper East Side/NYC)
- Murray Hill (New York City)
- Madrid (Spain)
- Los Angeles
- Philadelphia
- The London Eye: “In Your Face”
- The J-Man Inspires
- George Washington
- Georgia (Republic of)
- New Orleans
- Columbus Circle (New York City)
- Two Davids (Florence)
Filed under: Architecture, Competitions, Gay, Hot Gay Statues, Infrastructure, Letters, Search | 4 Comments
Tags: Airports, Franco Harris, Hot Gay Statues, Pittsburgh, Steelers
In which The Gay Recluse suggests a link.
The most beautiful ads are always for dead companies.
Like this one we recently took on 35th Street between 5th and 6th Avenue.
Does this company still exist? We hope not, because we don’t want to have to think about buying anything.
New York City is filled with ads for dead companies.
Frank Jump has photographed many of them on his Fading Ad Blog.
We like his mission statement: “[D]ocumenting vintage mural ads on building brickfaces in New York City … has become a metaphor for survival for me since, like myself, many of these ads have long outlived their expected life span. Although this project doesn’t deal directly with HIV/AIDS, it is no accident I’ve chosen to document such a transitory and evanescent subject…”
If you see an ad for a dead company, why not take a picture of it?
Because eventually even Microsoft and Apple and General Electric and even Google will be dead, too.
And it’s always good to remember that.
Filed under: Architecture, Capitalism, Communism, Conspiracy, Decay, Disease, Dissonance, Dream, Gay, Graffiti, Health, History, Infrastructure, Landscape, Longing, Memory, New York City, Obsession, Pessimism, Photography, Quotes, Ruins, Search, Sickness, The Gay Recluse | 2 Comments
Tags: AIDS, Apple, Dead Companies, Gay Blogs, General Electric, Google, HIV, Microsoft
In which The Gay Recluse documents the sunset of a dream.
Today the tide seemed to finally turn against Hillary Clinton.
We felt bad about it, but mostly on behalf of our mother. She’s in her seventies now and really wanted Hillary to win.
She’s spent the better part of four decades fighting for women’s “equality.” As people used to say in the 70s, she’s a women’s libber! (At least that’s one expression that’s gone by the wayside.)
But so were we! As a child, we picketed the White House and marched on Washington to try to drum up support for the Equal Rights Amendment. (We’ve been on the losing side of almost everything, it seems.)
Ronald Reagan once grabbed our mother when she was demonstrating against him in Pittsburgh. This was during his first campaign for president and he was making a visit to Pittsburgh. My mother and her best friend Connie were both dressed up in monkey suits and Reagan — this was at the airport — lost his temper. He grabbed her by the front of her monkey suit and screamed in her face: “What’s wrong with you women?”
It was almost a big scandal. We’ll always remember the exact date because it was Halloween, 1980. It was exciting because our mother was fielding calls from national news wires.
But our mother lost her taste for demonstrations after the Ronald-Reagan incident. She said that she was so angry for so long, it finally wore her out. One thing’s for sure: we’ll never be nostalgic for Reagan.
We could never run for office, either. If we were Hillary Clinton, we’d be so ready to quit.
As any cut flower will tell you, fading aspirations are the most beautiful.
Filed under: Dissonance, Dream, Gay, Government, GWB Project, Landscape, Language, Memory, Nostalgia, Pessimism, The Gay Recluse | 4 Comments
Tags: Hillary Clinton, Mothers, Orchids, Ronald Reagan, Sunsets
On the Opinion Page: May 7, 2008
In which The Gay Recluse scores selected opinions in The Times.
Thomas Friedman/The Democratic Recession
The Short Version: Thanks, oil! You’ve caused democratic government to wane around the world.
In his words: “I’ve long argued that the price of oil and the pace of freedom operate in an inverse correlation — which I call: “The First Law of Petro-Politics.”
Score: D (Depressing)
Though we’re totally on board with Friedman’s calls to end U.S. dependence on oil for both political and environmental reasons, we weren’t too excited to read this column, which is filled with pompous self-referential jargon and depressing, meaningless slogans like “freedom” and “the democratic wave.” Sigh.
Maureen Dowd/Butterflies Aren’t Free
The Short Version: HIllary’s a scorpion and Barack’s a butterfly.
In her words: “What would that young Hillary…think of this shape-shifting, cynical Hillary?”
The Score: A- (Angst)
Although this piece feels dated, given the increasing recognition post-Indiana/NC that Clinton doesn’t have a prayer, we are somewhat intrigued by the more emotional and lyrical passages in which Dowd describes an older version of Clinton that the younger and more idealistic one wouldn’t recognize. What’s most compelling about this is not the story about Clinton, but the idea that Dowd is actually writing about herself, albeit in an unconscious way, which — whatever Dowd’s intention in writing it — makes us want to read more.
Filed under: Drivel, Government, Politicians, The Gay Recluse, The Times | Leave a Comment
Tags: Maureen Dowd, Oil, The New York Times, Thomas Friedman
In which The Gay Recluse takes a trip to the suburbs.
Last weekend we went flower shopping and on the way back stopped into a brand new Home Depot that was recently built somewhere in Westchester, which is this large land mass north of New York City; sometimes desolate and sometimes beautiful, it is criss-crossed with a gazillion highways and filled with shopping malls! There are many suburban towns there, which remind us of the suburbs of Pittsburgh where we grew up, except these suburbs are in New York and not Pennsylvania. (But as we know from visiting our college friends, there are far more similarities than differences between Mt. Lebanon and say, Scarsdale or Ardsley.)
In any case, the point is that we went and were not sorry because Westchester also has some extremely pleasant garden centers, which is where we like to spend hours and hours wandering through the plants, fantasizing about the day after we hit the lottery and can spend a $1 million on our favorite alpine perennials and specimen trees, preferably on an acre or so in the estate section of Riverdale in a giant mansion with river views. (It’s sad funny how our dreams change as we get older, isn’t it?)
But anyway, we arrived at Home Depot to buy some pots for our much smaller garden in Washington Heights — but hey! we love it anyway — and we took a moment to observe the box-store expanse from the parking lot. We won’t describe it except to say that we assume everyone reading this blog has seen a Home Depot before, and the one we stopped at didn’t look so very different from any of the others we’ve seen. Still, to refresh your memories, here’s a pic:
Kidding! That’s Dante and Zephyr, who of course would like to remind you that not every cat is a lolcat!
Seriously, here’s the Home Depot:
We love this guy, who’s like: “Which way to the Home Depot?”
On our way across the barren desert parking lot, as we steeled ourselves to confront — and likely, purchase! — the soulless but strangely exhilarating array of goods inside, we were struck by what we ultimately decided was the one awesome piece of design at the new Home Depot.
Check it out:
What’s wrong with this picture? Oh right: it doesn’t have a logo.
Our new fantasy is for every item in the grocery store (and pretty much everywhere else, too) to be redesigned like this manhole cover, with a simple cross-hatched pattern and a generic description. Any candidate who wants to pledge to make this happen — given that nobody has responded to our demand for Sunday bagpipe maneuvers in the park — will be getting our vote this November.
Filed under: Architecture, Conspiracy, Flatware, Not Every Cat a Lolcat, Retail, Search, Sickness, Technology | 3 Comments
Tags: Ardsley, Bagpipe Manuevers, Design, Drain, Endorsements, Home Depot, Manhole Covers, Scarsdale, Westchester
In which The Gay Recluse contemplates an uncommissioned masterpiece from the walls of an uptown subway station.
Consider the old panels on the subway platform wall, and observe the finely wrought precision with which each strip of peeling paint has by the hands of time been distressed in the subtlest shades of gold and silver, all displayed in a collage with the glue and paper of generations long deceased. We know there will be many who fail to see the beauty of these forgotten panels, and will respond to our assessment with scorn and disbelief. Yet before you judge, we again invite to you to behold the works in person. Here you have the abstract expression of the city itself, resplendent in decay and neglect, and to observe it for even these few seconds fills us with the transcendent bliss of true insignificance.
– The Gay Recluse, September 2007
Filed under: Infrastructure, Obsession, Photography, Ruins, Subway, Technology, The Gay Recluse, Washington Heights | Leave a Comment
Tags: 163rd Street, Abstract Expressionism, MTA
In which The Gay Recluse thinks about taking a seat.
Time/Location: Recently, around 34th Street.
We walk by these benches all the time, but have never had the time or inclination to sit.
Filed under: Architecture, City Pattern Project, New York City, Photography, The Gay Recluse | Leave a Comment
Tags: 34th Street, Manhattan, Park Bench, Sitting Still
In which The Gay Recluse serves brunch.
This was yesterday morning, after our first trip to Zabar’s since the Christmas Eve trifecta. We were almost nostalgic thinking about it, but ultimately relieved that it’s a mountain we will probably never have to climb again.
Filed under: Food, Gay, GWB Project, Memory, New York City, The Gay Recluse, Washington Heights | Leave a Comment
Tags: Bagels, Brunch, Trifecta, Zabar's
In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge.
Time/Date: May 4, around 8pm-ish.
I, too, have an obsession with the George Washington Bridge. However, mine involves a nagging compulsion to complete a football pass from the deck of the bridge to a buddy on the ground below.
Filed under: Architecture, GWB Project, Infrastructure, The Gay Recluse, Washington Heights | Leave a Comment
Tags: Football, May, Sunset, The George Washington Bridge
In which The Gay Recluse watches birds.
The bird flew by just as the fog was lifting. That could be a metaphor for many different things!
Filed under: Animals, GWB Project, Language, Photography, The Gay Recluse | Leave a Comment
Tags: Birds, George Washington Bridge, Metaphors
In which The Gay Recluse is entranced by the lowly marigold.
Time/Location: Sunday afternoon at the Green Valley Nursery in Westchester.
Yellow marigolds.
Red marigolds.
Orange marigolds.
Filed under: City Pattern Project, Dissonance, Photography, Retail, Stereotypes, The Gay Recluse, The Spring Garden | Leave a Comment
Tags: Green Valley, Marigold, Westchester
The Gay Recluse 