Fairytale of New York Day 4; Papaya Sperm and the Wet Met

I had made a big deal to Serge about going to the Metropolitan Art Museum while I was there. So much so that in the end I neglected the thought of going to the Museum of Natural History, which is atop my list to go visit when I return. I wanted to visit the Met not only to see all of the great art and partake in the mass amount of paint and plaque that stretched beyond acres of ancient to modern expressionism, but also so that I could sit on the steps of the Met and have my picture taken in honor of the characters Serena and Blair from the show, Gossip Girl. A show I had the quite guilty pleasure for before the show's character graduated high school and went to college.

That morning Serge and I walked to the Subway Station in the rain, stopping at Starbucks along the way for my usual iced coffee, for it was still humid as hell outside in spite of the downpour. By the time we got underground to the subway my hair was all the worse for wear, and I was thankful my type of guy found the disheveled look to be sexy on the off chance I happened to run into any along the way. I was fascinated by the metro cards used to get around the New York subways. As most of us Portlander's know, different max/buss passes have different prices for hourly/day/week/month time zones. And sometime, we'll just hop on the Blue/Red/Green/Yellow max lines without even buying a damn ticket and if were lucky don't get harassed by fare inspectors. Well the way the NYC subway system works is you put money onto a card, and then slide it through this machine that grants you entry to the revolving doors that lead to the subway. After Serge explained all of this to me, I put $10 dollars onto a metro-card and grinned widely when I slid it through for the first time. It wasn't long before our subway train arrived and after boarded Serge and I talked about Twin Peaks and Fire Walk With Me as we rode. Once we got off the rain had stopped, and it was a small walk before we finally arrived.

I was more than pleased to find that pricing for admission to the Met was pay what you will. Not to be bastardy cheap, I payed a dollar. Though I think it was Brendan who later said I should have given them a cent. I was taken in by how beautiful the Met was almost instantly. I wasn't prepared for the immaculate architectural designs of city squares and imperial bedrooms. The pillars of Rome straight out of a foreign Criterion DVD. I had almost forgotten what I had wanted to see most, which were the modern expressionists and photography. I took a picture of every Warhol piece that was displayed, all the while thinking about how much Serge said he detested Warhol. I also took pictures of a Pollack painting, couple of naked man statues, and Serge took a fantastic picture of me in front of a Kenneth Noland target painting. Art Museums and art in general, while I might not always be interested in a specific piece or am unable to devote hours dissecting each and ever fiber of canvas, always manage to consume me within their jaws of passion and poetic imagery. I find myself drowning in all of the magnificent splendor and depth art gives to my soul, my breathing kept steady by the inspirational light that is its gift. Yes, I fell in love with The Met.

When we left The Met, I got Serge to take my long awaited photo of me sitting on the steps of the Met ala Gossip Girl for me. Then we walked around a bit. Serge needed food so we stopped at Burger King, and afterward I stopped at a corner hot dog joint that sold fruit blended smoothies. I was in need of a drink that was enriched with actual vitamins so I chose this place. Along the back walls were posters of fruit, and the one for Papaya stated that Papaya was known to increase male fertility. And suddenly I was overcome(so to speak) with the image of papaya increasing my own male fertility thus resulting in my sperm shooting out fifteen feet into the air when I masturbated(as I was in no position to get a woman pregnant) So of course, I bought a papaya smoothie.

Serge and I walked along the Upper East Side as we headed towards Central Park. There were two things within Central Park I had any real interest in, aside from walking along one if its MANY paths for a short while. I wanted to see the Lewis Carroll statue and Strawberry Fields. Serge granted one of my requests and took me to the Carroll statue, since the Fields were all the way on the other side of the park. Once we found the statue there was a swarm of kids crawling all around it. I turned to Serge and jokingly asked where my tear gas was. But by the time we were at the statue taking pictures I no longer minded. It was such a beautiful piece and I felt so full of wonder as I climbed up that mushroom having started to reread Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and developing a new kind of special attachment to the story.

We made our way back to the subway walking through the last stretches of park. The clouds were beginning to reform, and by the time we got back to Union Square it was pouring worse than it had that morning. Serge and I weren't even in it for longer than five seconds before we ducked into a nearby Best Buy to hide out for awhile. By the time we decided to come out of hiding the rain might have dropped a centimeter, but it was still end of the world type downpour. I wanted/needed food and decided to partake in my McDonald's gift card at the nearby McDonald's that wasn't far from the apartment. Serge wanted to get back so he made sure I knew how to get back to the apartment and then told me to have an adventure. My adventure was getting my food, keeping my head down enough to use my head as an umbrella from my face and food, and asking the doorman to ring me up and grant me access to the elevator once I got back to the apartment building.

The rest of the night was spent in the apartment, save for the three of us going out for Mexican food which I didn't get any of because I was still full from McDonald's. It was at this time that a couple of things happened. The first being my hypochondriac paranoia in that I might have been getting sick in that moment, which later I chalked up to travel fatigue and heat exhaustion. The second was a sudden sense of homesickness that led to mass texting later that night as I lay on the leather couch fighting for sleep. And the third was on the way back, when Jason ran into an upstairs neighbor who was getting married. Jason told me that these neighbors of his paid nearly two grand for their studio. This became part of my NYC storytelling line up back home, after telling everyone how cigarettes are twelve to fourteen dollars a pack with tax.

That night I read late into the night, helping to settle my fatigue. I started listening to my NYC soundtrack and  finished The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer. I then dipped into Alice's Adventures in Wonderland before finally falling asleep around five A.M. New York time. In three more hours I would be waking up to meet Brendan. Which also helped settle my fatigue in that I would get to see one of my long lost best friends in just a matter of hours. At point point through all this Jason made popcorn and gave me a bowl of it which made me happy.

Fairytale of New York: Day 3; Carrie Bradshaw towers and Peppermint Vacation film shoot

I woke up an hour or so before Serge ended up doing so, so I took a shower and wore my red Cavi sailor shirt with blue jean shorts. Jason decided to stay home and sleep more, so Serge and I left the apartment and  stopped at Starbucks where I bought a venti iced coffee and three mini vanilla bean scones. New York was quite the inferno, so I knew I was in for iced coffee mornings during my stay. I was very grateful to my grandmother who before I left for my trip, sent me a Starbucks gift card, ad well as gift cards for McDonald's and Subway.

Serge had remembered me telling him that I wanted to see the Carrie Bradshaw apartment from Sex and the City. The exterior of it anyway, because the interiors were either in a different apartment, or a set. Along the way we walked through different parts of Greenwich village and through Washington Square Park. I can't remember what all we talked about except I know we discussed exercise and My Own Private Idaho being a film that I wish I liked more.

We also caught a faraway glimpse of the Freedom Towers that are being built near Ground Zero. I decided I did not want to visit Ground Zero while I was there, for the horror of 911 was not something I wanted to experience and relive on location. But at the very least I decided to take a picture of the new towers under construction. One might even look at them as a symbol of hope. But in economic terms, the property value is just too high.

When we reached the apartment, I almost walked past it until Serge pointed out to me that we were there. Though the gaggle of bubbly looking O.C. gals taking pictures should have been enough to tip me off. Even though it was just a simple brownstone, I was thrilled none the less. Film and television landmarks are some of the most important locations to visit on my travelling adventures; the Carrie Bradshaw apartment was no exception to this, having been an avid fan of S&TC since I was in high school. I took a couple of pictures and took note of the No Trespassing sign hanging across the steps and the donation box along the railing.

On our way back we stopped at Trader Joe's for food that would eventually become burgers and guacamole dip that would be consumed by me as well as others. When we got back to the apartment we watched a 911 terrorist documentary that was also about the thievery of different organized regions and ate chips until Serge's friend Kate got off work. At one point Serge made me a burger and I told him thank you for making this burger and letting me eat it.

Months before my New York City adventure even began, Serge was making plans with me to have me be in one of his films. The film was to be called, "Peppermint Vacation," and was essentially a story about prostitutes in New York City. I was to play the role of Cookie. A character who in the script was originally two people, a man and a woman who were brother and sister, eventually was written as a drag performer. I was to have a few scenes with Kate, who I had yet to meet. As well as a couple of solo scenes, one of which involved me lip syncing to Rita Hayworth's "Put the Blame on Mame," one of my most favorite performance pieces of all time.

Kate came to the apartment later that night and I was instantly smitten with her. She had a loving nature, and was quite kind and laughed at all my jokes and stories. We went to the park near the apartment to film before we lost anymore light. Serge filmed Kate saying her lines while I held the script up for her to read, and she did the same with me. We went back to the apartment, had a margarita, and filmed Kate and I's other scene in the bathroom. Later we filmed the big Hayworth number,  and Kate's suicide on the stairwell of the apartment building. We were having so much fun I didn't want her to leave, but little did I know she'd be back before I left for Portland. Because later that night, Serge's camera wouldn't transfer the footage to the computer. After Serge took the camera completely apart, it was clear we would have to re-film.

I can't remember what happened for the rest of the night before I finally went to sleep around 3:00 AM New York time, but I know it involved some kind of t.v. show or another. That night and the night after Serge and Jason's t.v. was showing The Kathy Griffin show, E!'s Fashion Police, The Comedy Central Roast of Joan Rivers, and Bogan Pride. I just cant remember which night had which.

The making of a Super-villain Duo: Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn

A few months after I joined the Clinton Street Cabaret's Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast here in Portland, I became friends with a young girl known as Mar Mar. She was playing Frank-N-Furter at the time, and had had a reputation for being a die hard Harley Quinn fan. As our friendship grew, she suggested that I be the Poison Ivy to her Harley Quinn. Well my first thought was not, "I can't I'm a boy," for one of the few things I did gain from my experiences in the Cabaret was the freedom to be any character you wanted to be regardless of gender. But instead my initial response was, "I'm not a redhead." But as she was quick to point out in her response, "Well I'm not a blonde." It wasn't long after this that I began to suddenly develop a liking to Poison Ivy; watching with rapt attention every Animated Series episode she was in, searching for her in all the different comic book origins, even bringing myself to re-watch Batman & Robin, though I only watched the scenes with Uma Thurman's Poison Ivy and skipped everything else. A true love connection with a Batman character was born, thanks to Mar Mar, my Harely in crime. Since then we've enjoyed many different oppurtunites to paint the town red and green with our Harley and Ivy personas, but our biggest and most crowning acheivement to date still remain the preshow we performed for one of the Clinton Street Cabaret's Rocky Horror show nights. Together we created a preshow that involved me as Ivy and Mar Mar as Harely, dancing and lip syncing to the song, "Are You Ready to Die," by Cary Ann Hearst, while our boyfriends, Two Face and the Joker, sat tied up listening to us harp about how they were soon to die.
And with that, I leave you with our performance:

Jay Brannan at the Doug Fir Lounge; Portland, 08-03-2012

On Friday August 3rd, 2012, Jay Brannan came to perform at the Doug Fir Lounge in Portland.

I had never been to the Doug Fir Lounge. Though the establishment has played hose to many of favorite musical performers I would have loved to have seen. But much like Jay Brannan who has performed there one more than one occasion, I was always either underage or unemployed in some way shape or form to go see any of these shows. In March of 2012 while preparing for my future New York City trip I discovered that Jay would be returning to Portland in August, and nothing was going to stop me from seeing him this time.

The Doug Fir Lounge is the closest I've come to experiencing a Pink Martini IKEA style bar/venue that are often frequented by white middle aged couples and gay men. The decor consists of wooden log walls, and a tree pattern back drop onstage, ablaze in purple. The corners and sides of the ceiling are lit with red, and the bar behind the main stage lounge area is gold. The bathrooms are quite literally wedged into a corner, and it was by that corner that I first caught a glimpse of Jay Brannan standing over a table with his Cd's for sale.

Too nervous to make the first move to say hi to him I scampered back to my seat. I had started the night sitting at one of the wood log tables and ended up talking to a middle aged blonde woman and her well built, younger gay man friend who kind of resembled Zachary Quinto. I'm not sure exactly what their relationship was but whatever they had going on I liked it. Her name was Leslie, and his name was Sergio. I talked with them a but, mostly with Leslie, about my love for Jay Brannan and how long I've waited to see him perform live. Leslie offered to let me sit closer back to their table so I could see better, since the lounge was starting to crowd with people. But I decided to move closer to the stage, for I was not about to watch Jay Brannan perform through a pair of binoculars(I didn't actually have a pair of binoculars on me) I managed to steal a spot directly in front of the right side of the stage, with a perfect view of the seat that would soon be occupied by Jay Brannan. The people I was standing next to was led by a loud young woman named Phoenix. She claimed to be a professional stalker of Brannan as well as other queer male singers. We talked a little about Jay's music and I told her how the song, "Housewife," perfectly illustrated why when I get married I want to be the stay at home spouse, and she said that song almost always made her cry. Her and her friends had brought things for him to sign, so I made a plan to follow her back after the show so I could get my picture with him, nervousness be damned. Furthermore, I was grateful that I managed to pick such a fantastic spot with such convenient people.

The show started a little bit after nine, and the opening act actually wasn't that bad. It was a woman named, Chris Pureka. She had a really nice voice and sang really well, though her music was below sub par on the heavy handed Ani Difranco level. She told us a funny story about how for the rest of Jay's tour on the West Coast, she was driving to California for those California shows, but Jay got to fly(which he later mentioned during his set that he was flying 1st class to boot). Everyone to sympathy for her by awwwww-ing. After she was done, everyone applauded her and they wouldn't stop applauding. So much to the point that Jay himself dragged her back out onstage for an encore song. It was a really sweet moment, and I was happy for her.

Finally it was time for Jay Brannan. The reason I came to this show by myself and braved the eccentric crowd without an available wingman. He took to the stage and naturally I, "Whoo'd," and "Whoop'd." For every song, Jay was lit with a different spotlight. Sometimes red, sometimes a natural light blue, the whole set a kaleidoscope of multicolored spotlights to light his every pitch perfect note. He sang all of my favorite songs; Housewife, At First Sight, Half Boyfriend, and of course Soda Shop from the movie through which I first discovered him through, "John Cameron Mitchell's "Shortbus." Aside from those, two of the shows other highlights included Jay doing a cartwheel onstage after sharing with us that he used to be a gymnast  then saying that he may have thrown out his back doing the cartwheel he just did. He followed this up with a story of how he met Jason Priestly and him making the connection that it was Jay's ass the Star Spangled Banner was being sung into by Pj Deboy in Shortbus. The second, or second and third highlights if you will, were the two covers he sang. The first was a cover of, "Your House," by Alanis Morissette. A song that called to be sung in A-Capella. The whole lounge was silent as he sang. Not even a drink being made at the bar was heard. It was incredible. And for the second cover he sang, "Superbass," by Nicki Minaj. Superbass. Jay Brannan's voice. One guitar. The whole time I'm thinking I need to be filming this...but I can't look away. Quite simply, the cover kicked ass. Jay Brannan NEEDS to release an album of covers by R&B singers. And anyone else who has seen the video of Jay Brannan singing, "Straight Outta Compton," will attest to that. He also made a couple of jokes about Portland. Saying how he loves that there's so much meat to eat in Portland because no one is eating it(vegans), and after commenting on our nation of flannel remarked on how rather than wearing flannel like he did at the last Portland show, he opted for wearing a shirt with a man wearing flannel on it.

When the show was finally over I booked it with Phoenix to the back area where Jay Brannan said he would be so he could say hi to everyone. I was right in the front of one of two lines that formed, and stood right next to him Jay for a few minutes before a couple of audience members managed to get in front of me to meet him first. In the other line across from me was Leslie and Sergio, as well as Sergio's friend they were waiting for that finally showed up. I was happy to see them again, and Sergio's friend was nice enough to let me go first before him which I thought was very nice, especially given the crowd. But with all the wonderful people I had met that night, Leslie, Sergio, Sergio's friend, Phoenix, Phoenix's friends, I was grateful to have gone to a show with such nice and friendly people. Like Phoenix said, "Jay Brannan shows make people act nice!" She may have been right.

Finally it was my turn. I took one big step forward and Jay Brannan and I looked right at each other and exchanged hi's. I told him that I had been waiting five years to see him perform ever since I first saw him in, "Shortbus." And that now I finally got to, and that he not only was incredible during the show, but IS in an incredible and important music artist. He seemed touched and said thank you, similar to how I respond to audience members at Rocky shows(so I knew it was genuine). We took two pictures together, and I decided to hug him goodbye then really quickly said thank you and bolted up the stairs grabbing a show poster on my way out.

Jay Brannan's music has always meant something to me. Sometimes just as a beautiful voice to listen to, and other times that same voice manages to tap into my feelings about wanting love and the disappointment it so often brings. His music can be sad. But much like Elliott Smith and Morrissey there's a comfort to be had in that sadness. When I first saw Shortbus I saw him as this beautiful model artsy indie actor. But soon after I discovered his music and suddenly he was no longer just the guy from Shortbus. He was Jay Brannan the musician. Sometimes we can't always explain why something is so beautiful us. It just is. And for me, the night of the show at the Doug Fir was as beautiful as listening to his songs at eighteen; a depressed senior in high school who would sneak on YouTube in the computer lab to listen to all of his songs.