You'd Have To Be Crazy Not To See This Film

Please, dear God, don't let me wet the bed again. Please, dear God, don't let me be soft. Please, dear God, don't let me be gay.

If you think you've seen all the coming-of-age films you need to see, you're wrong -- unless you've already watched "C.R.A.Z.Y.," a twist-your-heart-until-it-bleeds French-language flick that floored critics with its passion and wisdom.

Set in Quebec from 1960-1981, "C.R.A.Z.Y." injects you into the membrane of a tight working-class family whose five sons include a drug addict with a temper, an egghead, a jock and a fattie. But the movie revolves around Zac, who spends his adolescence suppressing his homosexuality out of deference to his conservative father. Played with astonishing skill by the stunning Marc-Andre Grondin, Zac represents every kid who has to endure an assault by his parents on his orientation. In this case, Zac -- with a few detours -- finally accepts and embraces his sexuality.

"C.R.A.Z.Y." -- the title is an acronym of the five sons' first names -- doesn't paint black-and-white pictures. Every major character -- except for perhaps the saintly mother -- is complex. The lunch-pail father, for instance, is a sympathetic figure, a loving parent who simply can't cope with the notion of a gay son until tragedy shakes him out of his bigotry.

While the film's theme is a gay coming-of-age story, "C.R.A.Z.Y." also is a powerful tribute to family and spirituality, subplots that will bring you to tears. At the same time, the humor is razor-sharp and the music -- Patsy's Cline's "Crazy" in a recurring theme -- makes the flick wholly entertaining.

Every straight person with a brain should see this film. How good is it? Rottentomatoes.com's analysis of reviews gave it a 100 percent positive rating.

And, finally, from a gay guy's point of view, Marc-Andre Grondin is as close to perfection as human beings come. Watch him lip-sync to David Bowie's "Space Oddity" (you know, "Ground control to Major Tom...") and you'll fall in love instantly.

SIDENOTE: I downloaded "C.R.A.Z.Y." from netflicks and watched it on my computer. The downloadable movie selection is limited, but the platform was satisfactory. It wasn't high-def, but the netflix media player was large enough and sharp enough to make the experience enjoyable.


The two pictures show Zac's progression from his kid-next-door phase to his Ziggy Stardust phase. The first part of the movie actually deals with his childhood years and is skillfully played by a boy actor.

I Love You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

Some of you might remember what a hard-on I got for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Well, my new musical lust is Vampire Weekend, a bunch of recent Columbia grads who just signed with a label (meaning, it seems, that only two of their songs are available for download now). The music's been described as preppy with a strong dose of Africa. Yeah, these are white kids. But they're good. Call it alt or rock or whatever, but basically it's pop in its purest, best form. Sort of like the Beatles -- in genre, not sound.

http://www.myspace.com/vampireweekend

Snow. Yay.

We had our first few snowflakes yesterday.
Not a fan.
I used to get butterflies in my belly at the first sight of snow.
No more.
Snow before Thanksgiving was a treat; snow before Christmas was mandatory.
Now?
Now, I want warmth and life year-round.
Maybe it's age.
Maybe I don't want to be denied the pleasures of spring and summer and early fall.
Or maybe I just don't want slush in my shoes.

10 Q's For The Gay Sports Editor

So, a friend who has a well-read blog wants to interview me about being a gay sports editor. Not a bad idea, except I've never publicly revealed that I'm gay. A lot of people know, but it's never been a topic of conversation at the paper. That raises a question: Am I a "gay" sports editor if I haven't told my readership or bosses that I'm gay? I see myself as a journalist who happens to be a vegetarian, who happens to be way left politically, who happens to have a German-born mother, who happens to have a West Virginia-born father, who happens to be gay. Nevertheless, I can see how it might intrigue people. Here are some of the questions I'd ask myself if I were blogging on the topic:

1) What's it like going into locker rooms full of naked men? It's gross. Locker rooms are as sexy as used jock straps. Especially in football, they're smelly and full of hairy-assed guys OD-ing on testosterone. Beyond that, when you're writing a story, you're concentrating on journalism -- not on human anatomy. Sadly, many college football and basketball locker rooms are now closed to the media (largely because of the increase in the number of women sports writers). I say "sadly" because you get the best gut reactions in the locker room. Typically, athletes are brought into formal interview rooms, killing almost any chance of a spontaneous -- read: honest -- comment. On the other hand, I don't miss the awkwardness of fully-dressed middle-aged men interviewing naked 20somethings as they dress or pad to the showers. Having said all of that, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I've seen guys in locker rooms whom I found sexy. It's just that you don't get a chubby over them because you're working and it would be highly inappropriate to shift into sex mode.

2) Does being gay influence how you cover sports? I'm not sure it's so much being gay as being metrosexual. If you have a sense of style -- and many gay guys are more into that than straight folks -- it influences the topics you write about, the descriptions you include in stories, the questions you ask during feature interviews. I like to write about guys' tattoos -- they often tell a story that strips away the subject's veneer -- and I often include some description of the guy's body (the "sinewy tailback," "the skinny-as-a-net-cord point guard," the "zero-body fat cornerback") that you might not find in a non-metrosexual (or non-gay) sports writer's stories.

3) As an editor, does being gay influence your story and picture choice? Sometimes. For example, I used a shirtless picture of David Beckham with a story on his appeal as a pitchman in the United States, simply because I found the photo sexy. A straight and non-metrosexual sports editor might not connect the dots like that. Usually, though, the types of stories and pictures I use won't be any different than what you'd find in any other fairly sophisticated sports section.

4) Do you think parents would worry if you revealed you were gay and covered their kids? Some would. I don't cover high school sports, so that would never be a direct issue. But it would be an indirect issue, with less enlightened parents questioning whether a gay man should be involved to any extent with teenagers. Attitudes like that, of course, reflect willful ignorance and rank prejudice. Ask yourself this: Does anyone question it when straight men cover girls' sports? Of course not. But, our neighborhood homophobes might argue, those men don't have access to girls' locker rooms! True, but I don't think many reporters go into boys' locker rooms, either. So it should be a non-issue.

5) Why don't you tell your readership that you're gay? Because I don't see any point in stamping a rainbow tattoo on my forehead. My sexuality, just like my race and gender, should be irrelevant as a journalist.

6) But aren't you doing a disservice to fellow gays? Wouldn't you be a good role model for young gay sports writers? Touche. But you have to be reasonable, and I live in a conservative area that would see any disclosure of my sexuality as in-your-face rather than refreshingly honest. Maybe I'm rationalizing, but I don't think my most private traits should have any bearing on my job as a journalist. On the other hand, if I were in NYC or San Fran or Miami, would I be more vocal about my sexual orientation? Almost certainly. Hmm, I'm not liking this answer.

7) Do you think your staff has a right to know? My writers speculate among themselves endlessly, or so I've been told by guys who come to learn about my sexuality. And if they can't figure out that I am indeed gay, they should find another line of work. But I don't see how announcing to each one that I'm gay would be relevant to my job as their editor/supervisor. On the other hand, I never lie when asked. Plus, if I socialize with a staffer or former staffer, I tell him, simply because at that point he has a right to ditch me if he's not comfortable drinking a glass of wine (how gay is that?) or downing a few brews (trying to be macho) with me.

8) Have you known any gay athletes who would make good stories? Not many, but at least two come to mind. One is a high school basketball player who I think is too young to approach about that. The other was a college soccer player whom I asked for an interview (but was eventually rejected). Ethically, I wouldn't be able to write a column about a gay athlete without disclosing that I too am gay. I don't think that would be necessary in a feature story.

9) If you could date one sexy, mega-star athlete, who would it be? Tony Parker. He's cute and his accent would be a HUGE plus. ;) But T.O. is sexy as shit, as is A.I., Vince Carter, A-Rod, Jeter, Beckham, Dwyane Wade, Gilbert Arenas, Carmelo, Tiki ... and the list would take up the Internet. ;)

10) Which genre of athlete has the best and worst bodies? Shooting guards and small forwards in the NBA are at the top of the pecking order. They're leanly muscular and in peak condition because of all the running. Tennis players and sprinters are tied for No. 2. Obviously, NFL linemen are at the bottom of the list, though -- surprisingly -- NFL quarterbacks aren't much better (too lumpy). Most gays, I suspect, would say swimmers are No. 1, but that's because of my community's fixation on white guys with totally smooth bodies. I find them pretty but not particulary sexy.

Any other questions?

Sex? Good GOD, No!!!

Saturday night -- or, more accurately, in the wee hours of Sunday morning -- I got an IM from Gabe. He had just gotten home from partying and wanted me to come over to his apartment for some "fun."

Intriguing, no? I mean, Gabe is a handsome 20-year-old student at James Madison University. And -- down, boy! -- he's a Latino. From L.A. no less. Well, L.A. via the D.C. suburbs. But still.

Did I mention he's also smart? Gabe's on a full scholarship at JMU to study international relations.

So let's recap: Good-looking. Latino. Smart. Young.

No-brainer, right? You would think so. But for the second or third time this semester, I rebuffed Gabe's attempt to hook up. In fact, we've never met face-to-face. I've asked him probably half-a-dozen times to meet me for dinner, but he keeps putting me off. We know each other through -- what else? -- gay.com. I was in a D.C. area chat room last summer and Gabe popped up to say hi. We had a cool chat, and he appeared eager to meet. "I can't believe you live in Harrisonburg," he said. A friendship was budding. Or so I hoped.

Why, then, hasn't it happened? Two reasons, I think. From Gabe's end (no pun intended), he usually contacts me when he's a little drunk and wants to "hang out" at his apartment at 2 or 3 a.m., which I assume means he wants to have sex. (In fairness, though, he did ask in September whether he could do a brief internship at my office.) From my end, I want to get to know the kid's heart and soul and mind, not his dick or butt. Don't get me wrong. Sex with a 20-year-old Latino would be sweet, but there's a hitch: I'm three decades older than Gabe, and slam-bam-thank-you-ma'ams with college guys violate my behavioral code.

That doesn't mean having sex with Gabe would be immoral. If we got to know each other and the "moment" occurred, sex would be perfectly fine. (I've slept with my share of 20somethings.) And I have no problem with other older guys boinking 20-year-olds just for the carnal pleasure. (Or, if you're Bill Clinton, getting a blow-job, albeit with a chunky woman, rather than a cute guy, but you get my point.)

So here I sit, rebuffing Gabe -- and wondering if I'm a fool for complicating a simple, good act: s-e-x. And don't even ask me about Allen, another JMU student I've rejected. Shoot me, please.

Cool Artist

Check out this young artist from ... well, from all over. He graduated from NYU and now lives in L.A. His name is Ian Kim. I love the pop flavor of his work.



http://www.ikplay.com/

If You Want To Understand Gay Men, Read This

At times while reading John Weir's very funny, very sad "What I Did Wrong," you might find yourself flashing back to Al Pacino in "Angels In America." In this case, the guy dying of AIDS is much younger and much less political, but equally bitchy as life seeps out of him. It's a memorable portrait in a book full of memorable people and moments.

Set in New York, "What I Did Wrong" deals with a 42-year-old Queens College professor's relationship with three people: Zack, his dead sort-of boyfriend; Justin, one of his students; and Richie, his best friend from high school. To simplify, Zack represents reality (AIDS, death), Justin hope (a potential lover half the prof's age)and Richie a combination of innocence, normality and inertia (the straight guy who ends up not far from home, physically or psychologically, in Long Island).

Don't run your fingers across the pages of this book. Weir's writing is so sharp it'll make you bleed.