grrgoyl: (Default)
This is what I have so far:

Cabaret Compilation (just Alan's bits from the London show, appearance on Rosie O'Donnell, the Tony Awards show bits including Alan's win) (I could do the whole London show if anyone is interested, but it has to go on two discs due to length)

Alan's short films (Bathtime, That Sunday, Burn Your Phone)

Design for Living (again just Alan's bits. The whole show has to go on two discs)

The Chemistry Lesson (this also has Alan's bits in Micky Love at the end)

TV Spots Vol I (Wayne Brady (X-Men 2) interview, Eavesdropping (Halle Berry), Caroline Rhea interview, 3rd Rock From the Sun (complete episode))

TV Spots Vol II (Painting with Light commercial, SNL (shorter rerun version), Eavesdropping (Gwyneth Paltrow), Frasier (only Alan's part), VH1 Big in 2003 (only Alan), Eavesdropping (Liv Tyler), Behind the Music: Spice Girls (only Alan))

TV Spots Vol III (Eavesdropping (Meghan Mullaly), Out on the Edge (Alan's parts), So Graham Norton (penis cleaner ep), Airzone Solution (only Alan's parts), Video Diary)

TV Spots Vol IV (Eavesdropping (Julianne Moore), Graham Norton Effect July 2004, Conan O'Brien July 2004, Dinner for Five)

Movie Clips Vol I (All just Alan's parts...because who cares about the rest of the movie? No more fastforwarding through: Spy Kids 2, Plunkett and McLeane, Flintstones Viva Rock Vegas, Annie, Goldeneye, Urbania)

Cabaret Compilation II (More interviews and TV spots promoting Cabaret, including Conan, Charlie Rose, Alan's Studio 54 tour, his Broadway Bares appearance, hosting Biography's 15 Sexiest People of All Time, presenting at the 1999 Tony's, and more)

Interviews I (A collection of television interviews spanning Alan's career, The High Life, Plunkett and McLeane, Annie and hosting SNL)

Interviews II (Same as above, Titus, Flintstones and Spy Kids)

X-Men 2 Interviews (Television appearances for X-Men including E! News live, X-Men UK, MTV TRL and Movie Talk (Japanese press conference))

Prague



I am also experimenting with an "a la carte" method where I could put together a custom disc of bits (space permitting) instead of having to get an entire compilation for only one segment. I am asking $10 a title, which covers shipping, the blank disc, jewel case, etc. I think this is very reasonable considering how rare this material is. The discs are made from VHS copies so quality varies, but I don't use anything that is unwatchable. I will be happy to provide screencaps on request. I will replace defective discs at no extra charge or take returns for refunds, no questions asked. Email me at grrgoyl@comcast.net if you are interested.
grrgoyl: (Default)
Yesterday I consented to go with Tabby to a bar to watch the Big Game (Broncos v. Chiefs). A whole day off and I got to spend it doing my least two favorite activities in the entire world, with the possible exception of having my fingernails torn off with tweezers. She practically dragged me kicking and screaming, but she started whinging so stridently on the phone that I buckled under her persistence.

In case it isn't obvious, I don't like sports. Any sports. I would say I hate them, but it is closer to the truth that I don't even care enough about them to expend energy on hating them. Watching grown men chasing around a ball is secondary only to the Iron Chef cooking competition in the boredom category to me. The only thing more incomprehensible to me than the sports themselves are the fans. People hemorrhaging over whether or not #15 catches the ball or runs far enough with it. I know this because I have witnessed it firsthand; Tery has actually lost sleep over worrying about her team's performance the following day. Needless to say it is very difficult to summon any kind of sympathy for this. I had a damn lump in my breast and never lost a minute of sleep over it, even at my most anxious.

Tabby wanted to go out to lunch before going to the bar, but I protested that I needed SOMETHING to occupy me there; since I don't drink, food is about the only motivation I would have. It helped that we went to Tery's bar, because she knows how uncomfortable I am and takes extra-special care of me. The game hadn't even started and Tabby was already enraged by the preponderance of red in the place. Tery tried to explain to her that it was a "Chiefs bar" but Tabby refused to believe she was a "minority in DEN-VER," she emphasized loudly to no one in particular. Elaine couldn't care less about the topic either way and contentedly munched her mushroom burger.

The game started, and it was everything I hate about sports events or crowds in general. The screaming, the whooping, the hollering, the asinine chants between rival fans. Ugh. I felt like a biologist observing a completely different and decidedly less intelligent species. Tery was amused that I was the only one in the whole place who sat with my back to the big screen TV. At one point a Broncos fan yelled out, "Good hustle, guys," presumably at the players, as the only "hustle" going on in the bar was the rush to consume as much beer as possible and then get to the bathroom. I know I'm being a little harsh, but was I the ONLY one who realized that the team can't hear the fans unless they are in the stadium?

Tabby's hostility grew exponentially throughout the game, aimed at another customer. Apparently some guy at another table first won her enmity by clapping loudly for the Chiefs (although later I noticed him cheering the Broncos just as exuberantly. This somehow pissed Tabby off even more). He also kept looking over his shoulder at the rest of the bar while doing so. All I saw was Tabby shooting icy daggers of death over my shoulder at him. I thought the guy was oblivious to her utter hatred of him, but when he went to the bathroom and walked by her on the way back, I saw him shoot some kind of look at the back of her head. I evilly couldn't resist telling her about it, and suddenly little 115-pound Tabby was chomping at the bit to kick this guy's ass (he was kind of scrawny so the odds weren't too bad, but that was hardly the point). I told her if she started a brawl, I WOULD leave her ass there.

To distract her, we started playing pool. She beat me in two agonizingly long games, hindered considerably by the unfortunate proximity of customer's tables placed too close to the game table, resulting in trying to complete half the shots without poking someone's liver out (as dearly as I felt like doing so). I love pool but it normally takes me at least 3 games to get warmed up, and a less volatile environment doesn't hurt either. So we returned to our table and the one-sided battle with the unknown but utterly despised customer.

Thank god the Broncos won decisively (Tabby directing all her cheering and clapping spitefully at her arch-nemesis' back). I was afraid to ask her sarcastically if this were her idea of fun, so implacable was the venom in her eyes. I obviously couldn't wait to get out of there; by halftime my eyes were so full of smoke I couldn't even focus enough to see the score on the screen (if I cared). Even as I write this a day later I swear my nostrils are coated with tar, because I can still smell smoke. Disgusting.

Who could ask for a better friend?

In completely unrelated news, I finally managed to tape "Get Carter" off TNT. Thank GOD I didn't waste any money on this for Alan's sake. I think it doesn't say good things for a movie when from watching only the first 6 minutes, Alan's 11 minutes of screen time, and fast forwarding through the rest, I feel like I got enough to know what happened. What crap. Sylvester Stallone is a Neanderthal, and he made sweet Alan cry. But that doesn't change the fact that I must have it for my collection, right next to Alan's 11 minutes in "Plunkett and McLeane."

-=Lainey=-
grrgoyl: (desire)
My good friend Deb just happened to be taping a Katherine Hepburn marathon on TCM when Alan's "Painting with Light" commercial came on. He is describing a scene from "North by Northwest" while scribbling with some sort of laser pointer. He said that if we spend all our time watching newly released movies, we have no time to watch any of the old classics. One of his favorite sayings is "if you eat mints all the time, you won't recognize steak when you see it." This from the man who played not one but TWO roles in "Flintstones: Viva Rock Vegas."

LOL
grrgoyl: (Default)
I definitely need to read Tommy's Tale more often before falling asleep. I dreamed I was at a hoity-toity party and I was very uncomfortable because I didn't know anyone. Alan found me standing in a corner and started talking to me, then before I knew it we were slow-dancing. His arms were wrapped tightly around me and I buried my face in his shoulder as he whispered in my ear, and the rest of the world disappeared. It felt heavenly to be so close to him.

Then in the next part he was yelling at all the other guests for some reason, cutting them to the quick with sarcastic, clever witticisms, and no one could even look him in the eye. I didn't mind, though, because I knew he wouldn't talk to me that way.

*sigh*
grrgoyl: (Default)
So the useless computer software that I ranted about below is finally redeeming itself, it seems. After I don't even know how many attempts I finally succeeded in creating my first DVD from a VHS tape. The DVD I put together was a collection of some short films from early in Alan's career. The resultant video still looked like second (or even third) generation VHS, but I was satisfied in that it would at least maintain this quality significantly longer than it would on VHS format.

Although it was never my original intention, I thought there would be no harm in making a copy to put up for sale on eBay, to try to recoup some of the cost of the software and certainly the countless hours of my personal time wasted struggling with said software. I did so, and the bidding took off like wildfire (which was quite satisfying after I recently had to let a brand new leather jacket go for a song because I couldn't get the original price I wanted for it). I was a little skittish about copyright laws and whatnot, but as the films were taped off TV I really didn't see the difference in me selling them as opposed to how I bought the original copy of them.

The bidding closed at $51 (holy shit! said I), and then I felt generous (greedy) and offered a second copy to the runner-up bidder, whose top bid was $50 (because I am personally familiar with the heartbreak of losing by only $1). I got an email back from the runner-up thanking me for the opportunity and asking about shipping to the U.K. Which was all well and good until I noticed the fancy signature line at the bottom of the note, declaring the author a "BBC Researcher." ::::gulp:::: The BBC? The very people my little disc was copied from. I cursed my lot in life and raised my fists to the Heavens.....Why God, why? Of all people, WHY did the runner-up have to be a BBC employee????

With slightly shaky hands, I typed a response, deciding to take the blunt approach and asking, "I am a little nervous about your affiliation with the BBC. Are you planning to sue me?" Thank God she wrote back about 10 minutes later, because the suspense was absolutely killing any chance of concentrating on my work. She reassured me about the "s" word (as she put it) and explained that she was working on a film tribute to Julie Walters (who happens to be in one of the shorts with Alan, "Bathtime," very briefly) for BAFTA. For those who don't know, BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television Arts) I believe is the British equivalent of the Academy Awards people. She said she had to look at material and pick out suitable clips for the tribute, but it was very hard to find older material without paying "extortionate reproduction fees" (I just love how the English talk!) She signed off "God bless the collectors!" and I was put much more at ease. I was confused as to why the BBC needed to find private collectors when the material was originally owned by them, and my British friend Jeff explained that the BBC foolishly taped over their archives when they ran out of tape, thinking no one would ever want to see that stuff again, so now all the old episodes of shows like "Doctor Who" and "Top of the Pops" are lost forever except for what exists in personal collections. Silly, silly BBC!

Because I am so damned scrupulous I offered her the disc at a lower price, since the quality was horrid and Julie Walters was only on it for about 3 minutes, but she wasn't too concerned since the BBC was covering her expenses. I put in a good word for Alan by suggesting that maybe someday BAFTA could make a tribute to him and then she would need the rest of the material (don't worry, Alan baby....gotcha covered :::wink, wink:::) She responded that anything is possible and finished with the comment that now she knew where to come for any additional Alan Cumming footage. You heard it here first....I am now the BBC's official Alan Cumming supplier. I hope this means that an arranged meeting with him is imminent.

So we completed the transaction and I went across the street to my neighborhood Mailbox Stop to ship it off to Merry Olde. The problem with this idea was the place is being taken over by a young Asian man who has absolutely no idea what he is doing. He took one look at the address on the package and said, "Uh-oh....I don't know how to ship internationally." Okay, probably NOT the best thing to say if you want to inspire confidence in your customers. He tried to call the previous owner for instructions but she didn't answer the phone. To my dismay, he decided he would try to muddle through anyway on his own. After spending an intolerable amount of time entering all my personal information in the computer (which, a.) I have been going in there for over a year now and have never been asked for this, and b.) demonstrates the very arrogant assumption that my information needed to be stored for future visits, which, as you will see from this visit's outcome, was not at all a safe assumption to make) he finally turned his attention to the destination of the package. He recognized that the United Kingdom was the country, recognized the zip code and that London was the city, then asked me with a perfectly straight face, "Do they have states in England?" Ummmmm.....perhaps a career in the packaging and shipping industry wasn't the wisest choice, what do you think?

After an endless period of typing that would have made a travel agent proud, he finally got the address in the computer correctly (I hoped....I say this because he actually said to me, "I hope I did this right!" Again, NOT the best thing to say in front of, let alone TO, a customer) He then tried to tell me that the cheapest delivery rate he had was $25 for US Postal Air Mail. $25? Is that AMERICAN dollars? For a tiny less than 1 pound CD-sized package? When he saw the alarm on my face he tried once again to ring up the previous owner. After again having no luck, he suggested he hold my package until he could ask her about it, then he would call me back and I could return to finish the transaction. I made it clear that there was no way on God's green earth I was paying $25 to mail this tiny little package, and he said, "Well, she might know something I don't." I thought to myself, Son, I know more about this place than you do. I told him I had a better idea. I would take my package with me (and with that I swiped it out of his hands) in case they COULDN'T do better than $25 and I had to go elsewhere. As I left he promised repeatedly to definitely call me and let me know.

Well, I drove straight to the post office (where I should have gone originally, obviously, but it is a little farther out of my way than across the street) where the whole transaction took less than 5 minutes and I was charged exactly $4 for shipping. And it is a damn good thing I didn't wait on him, because it is now 32 hours later and he still hasn't called me. I have to wonder if that is because he still can't get his question answered or he realized he completely, totally, in such a major way, blew the sale.

He has no idea who he is dealing with.

>:)

-=Lainey=-
grrgoyl: (Default)
Tery is just the sweetest girlfriend I could ever ask for. She is obviously making an effort to accept my unavoidable obsession (even though I do try to tone it down for her and not gush too much about every little Alan thing I think about) because yesterday she went to Blockbuster and actually rented the "Sex and the City" disc with the Alan episode on it. This is because everything in my life is a saga, I don't know why that is, but hardly anything is ever as simple and straightforward for me as it should be (I suspect I am being punished for my misanthropic attitude, though by who is the question, since I am also an agnostic). I saw "The Real Me" on the program guide weeks in advance, was suitably excited, but alas we don't get HBO, having jumped ship over to Showtime soon after "Oz" ended. I considered such extreme tactics as switching back just for the weekend, wondering if DirecTV would notice or even care.

I thought Tery had saved the day when she suggested that her co-worker Christy at the bar could tape it for me. She spent the next week impressing on Christy how very crucial this favor was for me, but I still had my reservations. I am sure Christy is a very nice person and everything, but had no idea if she were forgetful or alcoholic or both and really was not comfortable putting the fate of my Alan viewing solely in her hands. So I devised a backup plan, asking one of my co-workers to tape it also, even going so far as to meet him in the middle of the day with my Alan compilation tape so all he had to do was push record at the appropriate time (that's it....just one little button....doesn't sound hard, does it? No, I didn't think so either.)

I then spent a week playing tag with him as he continually forgot to bring the tape into work. One day I was absolutely mortified when he grinned at me and said I could at least have given him a tape with something else on it he would enjoy watching.....yeah, well, I don't imagine he found "Plunkett and McLeane" in 3-minute segments, all of them featuring a particularly attractive black-haired actor, terribly entertaining. I think I turned four shades of red.

Anyway, I FINALLY got my tape back and settled down Saturday night to watch it, my heart all aflutter. I excitedly pushed play....and realized with a sinking feeling that my friend had taped 30 minutes of snow. Static. Nada. When I suggested to him later he brush up on the use of his VCR he was very surprised and apologetic, but that wasn't going to bring Alan to my screen.

No matter, I had Christy's tape, right? Wrong. Tery said she didn't tape it because she had the whole series on DVD and was going to loan me the disc. I pointed out despairingly that I couldn't copy a DVD, which Tery hadn't realized. But since then I bought a new computer because my old one was complete crap and that is a very long story, anyway I now have a DVD burner. But then Christy went into the hospital with a tumor on her ovaries.

So YOU tell ME the fates aren't aligned against me for whatever reason. Go on, I'm listening.....

So the lovely Tery brought me the Blockbuster copy of "The Real Me" on DVD and I thought, great, I will just burn me a copy of it and I can die a happy girl. But having had the computer for only a week and with no experience copying DVDs (only CDs), the program proved much more obstinate than I thought it would be and my initial diagnosis is that there might be a write-protect on the Blockbuster disc preventing my success. Either that or I am just doing something wrong because I am too busy to bother with such things as instructions. Does anyone know anything about this who can help me? Tery saved the day again by suggesting we rent the VHS version, which I CAN copy with my fancy VHS-to-DVD converter, the primary reason I bought this machine.

But hey, I at least had the episode at last and could watch it to tide me over until I solved this particular conundrum, right? So I popped it in last night while Tery was in the shower, and I laughed my ass off. Not just because it is a hilarious episode, but because I recognized it instantly as one I had seen very recently (however pre-Alan obsession); how could I forget the line "Oh my God, she's fashion roadkill!" as Heidi Klum steps over poor Carrie who has just fallen on her face on the runway? Of course my heart stopped anew when Alan came on the screen, but I just couldn't get over that I had just watched this episode probably in the middle of April, probably shortly before seeing "X-Men 2" and a certain "cute mute" changed my life, and Alan had made not the slightest impression on me. To be fair, he was only in the episode for a total of 5 minutes, not enough time to showcase his vast talent.

But the funny thing is when Tabby came over later I showed it to her, and she enthusiastically pronounced she liked him much better in this than in "Josie," and when I showed her his adorable runway pic (see right) she got a little smile on her face and agreed that he WAS quite attractive. (but I suspect her newfound openness might have something to do with the fact that she has recently tried sleeping with a guy and realizes they aren't as horrible as Tery would have her think. She still thinks girls are better in bed (generally I agree) but has a little broader horizon now.) Mind you, I don't expect her to go as head-over-heels as I have, but I will be content to not be thought of as completely loony.

Okay, back to work for me. Peace
grrgoyl: (Default)
Okay, after repeated exposure to the yummylicious Emcee pic seen below (twice) I decided to print the damn thing out and stick it on my wall right in front of my work desk. Tery is none too pleased, but as she spends about a fourth of the time at the computer as I do, I can deal with this (and so can she). I keep telling her she is free to put up pictures of Annika Sorenstam (as much as she would clash side-by-side with Alan, I am sure) but if she waits much longer there won't be any space.

But now I am thinking it might be a bad idea to put him there. You see, I am a medical transcriptionist by day (and an inventory auditor by night). Whereas the job is very challenging and intellectually rewarding, on these intolerably hot days when the sweat is just sliding down my back and into my eyes, a girl's mind seems to wander so much more easily....and having Alan staring directly at me does nothing to help my body temperature issues in the slightest. Look at him, with that enticing, come-fuck-me look, his arms sassily resting on his hips, his crotch thrust forward. When I look at it I can't stop thinking about licking those nips. Oy. Vey. I really don't think ANYONE should be expected to work in the face of this kind of scrumptiousness. Still, he is easy on the eyes after staring at a hideous DOS-blue computer screen for a few hours. Okay, he can stay.....
grrgoyl: (Default)

You are the Emcee from Cabaret


Which mainstream Alan Cumming character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Okay, I clearly have some kind of psychic/personality bond with the Emcee, this is kind of bizarre......though not necessarily a bad thing >;)

I would like to give special thanks at this time to my new friend Roxie (Metatronis) for saving me from my journal modification quagmire. Why can't the LJ FAQ writers just come out and speak English instead of assuming we all studied C++?? Such a simple solution. And now look at my beautiful Alan picture :)

Speaking of Alan, after launching this journal and threatening to talk about mostly him, I realize I haven't mentioned him since. Well, we should remedy that situation. I realize I am not alone in feeling this, but he is the first celebrity EVER that I feel if I never get to meet him or at least see him in person once before I die, my heart very well might break with longing. I have had celebrity crushes before (the last one was Nicolas Cage, but this was put to rest after his last three movies) but no one has made me literally swoon like Alan...I mean I actually feel lightheaded sometimes when I look at pictures of him or watch his movies, and I am not known for getting giddy like that. For this reason I usually have to watch his movies alone, because it is quite embarrassing reacting this way with someone (like Tery) who absolutely cannot understand what the big deal is. On July 4th Tabby came over to hang out before seeing some fireworks, and as we were bored I suggested watching "Josie and the Pussycats," in which I think he reaches soaring heights of irresistability with his sophisticated, exquisitely tailored suits and purple sunglasses, not to mention the many funny lines he has in the movie. Plus it has three hot chicks, so I figured there was something for all of us. Now I have always prided myself on not giving a damn what other people thought about me, but I found myself blushing when neither of them so much as chuckled at scenes and lines that I thought were hilarious. When it was over they looked at me like I had gone stark raving mad, and as for me, I found it completely incomprehensible that they didn't feel even a twinge of attraction for him.

Which makes me twice as grateful for finding the [livejournal.com profile] alan_cumming community. Back when I was obsessed with "Xena: Warrior Princess," my friend Beth and I were among the founders of an AOL chatroom called "Fearsome Females." We actually didn't even talk that much about Xena, that was just what we had in common. There were about six core members and for the most part we role-played as Amazons and warriors (I was a 7-foot tall female gargoyle, very fun). Apart from fending off the occasional idiot who wandered in mistaking the title for "Fearful Females" and giving us shit, we all played together (with more than a few private chatrooms being set up after the main festivities had ended). As we all lived in different timezones, it was not uncommon for most people to hang around until 2 or even 3 a.m. This chatroom was my entire life for about nine months. I spent more hours than I care to guess in there, even on the nights I had to work I would fly home to try to catch the tail end of the party. Because I don't drink, Tery said this was my equivalent of hanging out at a bar all night. Then suddenly, seemingly in the space of a few days, the group just dissolved, everyone just disappeared. It was terribly sad and I really missed those chats, but I realize now that I missed most of all belonging to a group. I am very much a loner and generally dislike most people (in fact I attribute my longevity with Tery above all to the simple fact that she is the only lover I have had who went for more than a month without getting on my nerves), so it is very strange to hear myself say this. But there it is. It is wonderful for me to go to the Community Board and read things from people who adore Alan as much as I do, even the silliest little things.

I've been in this computer chair for almost 12 hours. I think it is time to step away from the desk.....

-=Elaine=-
grrgoyl: (Default)
Alan as the Emcee!
Alan as the Emcee!

Dark, decadent, and highly sensual, he'll certainly
be the master of your ceremonies. Since
it's only a one-night-stand, you're both in it
solely for the kicks and the licks. Besides, he
doesn't care much.


What is Your Alan Cumming Erotic Fantasy?
brought to you by Quizilla


Okay, here it is, my first LJ entry. I am usually a very private person and have to get used to the idea of writing things that others can read. On the other hand, I have been told repeatedly by my doting mother that I am a fantastic writer and have missed my true calling in life.

To start with, this will mostly be about Alan Cumming, the most recent and most engulfing passion of my life (as celebrity fixations go, that is). I am a little ashamed to admit that I never gave him a second thought until I saw him as Nightcrawler in X-Men 2. Even as I watched the movie I didn't think much about him, but after leaving the theater and composing my review for my friends (I have an obligation to my moviegoing public, you see) I discovered that his performance left the strongest impression on me, the depth and sensitivity he brought to the character even under layers of makeup and special effects. Looking through my DVD collection, I dug out a couple of movies I knew he was in, and somewhere between "Titus" and "Romy and Michele's High School Reunion," I had fallen. No, not just love. My problem is I am 100% an Aries, and as such tend to throw myself into things rather headlong, some might even say to the extreme. And when something (or someone) catches my interest, it sometimes is a few very short steps to all-consuming obsession.

Another drawback to being an Aries is I can't hide my feelings or lie very well, so after a few days my new love had become painfully obvious to Tery, my girlfriend and partner of 10 years. When I first met her I identified as bisexual, having had mostly boyfriends and in fact only one girlfriend before her, but over the years I thought my attraction to boys was mostly dead, so started calling myself a lesbian. I have had a smattering of crushes on some male co-workers since then, one of them fairly serious, but never enough for anything to come of it. She has made it clear the only transgression I could commit that would make her leave me would be to sleep with a man again. She feels she can't compete with men inasmuch as they have body parts she doesn't. But after so many years of me being very female-oriented, she couldn't understand this new flame I was burning for a man. It didn't matter that the man in question was a movie star, or that he lived in New York/London (we live in Denver), she was utterly confused and dismayed by my newly rediscovered bisexuality. The jokes began, with her enlisting the support of her lesbian coworker. This is the plight of the bisexual: we get contempt and misunderstanding from both sides, from people insisting we choose a team. It has been said by others before me, I am sure, I am not attracted to body parts, I am attracted to the person.

It didn't take much research on the internet to learn that Alan was bi as well (I at first thought he was gay based solely on a pic of him on the cover of Out magazine, and my heart sank....as if I ever actually stood a chance with him either way.....see the irrational thinking that accompanies my strongest obsessions......) and this realization cemented my feelings for him. We were the same, with the same misunderstood desires. I became ravenous, I wanted to see everything he was ever in, read every interview he has ever done, look at every picture ever taken of him. As I pored over fan sites and photo galleries, it struck me that physically he was very similar to every boy I ever wanted, with an ineffable blend of the masculine and the feminine. Perhaps this is a result of my identity, I am drawn to women with a vaguely masculine quality, and vice versa for men. I'm not talking about overt traits that make people caricatures and stereotypes, but rather something more subtle. In women it is a confidence, strength and physical presence that "femmy" women are afraid to express. In men, it is a grace and sensitivity that "manly" men would rather die than reveal. I believe a person is more complete if they can incorporate the yin and the yang.

::::sigh:::::: That is enough for now, I think. I have to work tomorrow as usual. Maybe I will pick this up later, maybe these are just meaningless ramblings that aren't going anywhere. Which I suppose is the purpose for a journal.

Peace

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December 2011

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