Average everyday sane psycho

I was watching Psycho II last night and this morning. I had to stop because it was actually creeping me out so I returned to it today. It is really quite a good film, I am impressed. Different from the first but still keeps the story line going enough to make it interesting.
It also got me thinking about Anthony Perkins and his life and the strange patterns that can emerge in a life.
First I have to say that I love Anthony in the original Hitchcock Psycho. He was young, attractive, innocent and did such an amazing job of playing Norman Bates that I think many have forgotten what his real name is. When I first saw that film when I was 15 years old I think I fell in love with him. I did not care that the character that he was portraying was a split personality who killed in the role of his mother. What gay man hasn't fantasized about putting on his mothers clothes and killing the people who symbolize the repression of his sexuality? I was so smitten with him that I would watch the film and just fast forward to the parts where he was there and he was being just adorable Norman.
It was later that I found out that Anthony Perkins was gay and lived a closeted life and died in 1993 of AIDS related causes. The poor man. He became even more heroic in my eyes. He had lived a life that was a lie because he had no other choice, he had married, had kids, and was trapped in a world that would not let him be himself. He was oppressed and not allowed to express himself. I knew exactly how he felt. I also felt a bond because somehow I had known that he was gay, I just felt it in my bones. He was so delicate and so sensitive in his performance that I could not imagine him loving a woman, but only a man.
So I was watching the sequel and I felt my heart being destroyed for Anthony. He had not aged well, his delicate features had hardened with age and he had lost that boyish charm. I could not help but blame society for how my Anthony looked, he was forced to live a lie trapped in it by social pressures. And here he was back in a role that he had only taken in the first place because he wanted to become famous and get noticed. The role of the oppressed Mama's boy haunted Anthony for the rest of his life, it was the only re-ocurring role that he could get and even though he got to direct the last one, I am sure that he was unhappy with it. He always wanted to be remembered for more then just same guy with a split personality. So the patterns in his work reflect the patterns in his life.
Anthony was never able to come out while he was a live, he kept his men private and made his family life very public. So he was never able to be the person that he was - either in film or in real life. The only role he was given that came close to the one he wanted was opposite Audrey Hepburn in "Green Mansions" which was such a mess artistically that it was quickly forgotten. ( I remember watching that film and wondering if Audrey knew what Anthony was getting up to with men, possibly with men on set. I always think that it is so weird when you see something on film but never consider the possibilities of what might be going on behind it). So the role that he wanted never panned into the career that he desired as he chose a bad project.
So now Anthony is dead and will always be remembered as Norman Bates. Poor man. He was trapped in a system that just was not able to accept him for who he was and made it impossible for him to accept him for who he was. It reminds me of Joan Fontaine who got trapped in the role of the sweet young thing and could not escape it after "Rebecca" and how the studio kept her on contract but would not let her act. And it is also like the original Superman who killed himself because he could not get another role since in that era (1950's) people could not bring themselves to accept that what you saw on T.V. or on the big screen was not necessarily who the person was in real life.
I am happy to say that I think that there has been some progress in our world and that things have changed. That there has become an understanding that just because you do something in one area of your life does not mean that it defines you as a whole. I think that this is progress. Ruperett Everett gets to play straight men as well as gay men, I think that is nice for him.
But I must say I still think that there are many people trapped in the roles that they feel that they have to play acting out who they are instead of being themselves. I feel bad for those people, for it may be that like Anthony it will be the death of them, that they will be unable to accept who they are by getting past the barriers that society has set up.


I understand this, I feel this pressure a lot in my life to be someone I am not. I just don't always know what to do about it. But I am trying.

Attagirl

Stuck in a rut and a very tight place
Judge & Jury of your own damn fate
From the cradle to the grave,
You’re looking for something
Snips & a snail & a puppydogtail
Nip & Tuck, but to no avail
You look like Hell,
You’re looking for something?
Oh, it’s plain to see
Oh, it’s you & me & the Devil makes three
Don’t get stuck, somewhere in the middle
You payed all your dues and you’re not on second fiddle
Don’t say luck is something like a riddle
You payed for your place in this world: Attagirl!
Better sit tight, gotta drop that phone
This is a story for the girls back home
Living on their own
Looking for something
Goosebump Babe, gotta cover your tracks
Skid marks running all over your back
Face that fact
You’re looking for something
It’s plain to see
It’s you & me & the Devil makes three
Don’t get stuck, somewhere in the middle
You payed all your dues and you’re not on second fiddle
Don’t say luck is something like a riddle
You payed for your place in this world: Attagirl!
I want it all, I wanted everything
I want it now, I wanted everything
I want it loud, I wanted everything
I want it now, I wanted everything

Uniform Legal Citations

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Apparently God still hates me. Or there is just some strange thing going on in my life where all of the negative energy from my person is affecting all that surrounds me.

I am still vacuuming and I HATE it!

I have not seen a bed bug, but that means nothing.

Now my landline is not working. I pick up my phone and all I hear is static and that is it, no dial tone, just this weird static like someone else is on the line. I hope that aliens are not trying to call me. That would just be creepy. I am not so fond of aliens, they always seem to be so into anal probes and well although that is not out of the realm of possibilities for me I would like it to be concentual and with a human being. Perhaps Margaret Cho could come over and use a dildo on me, that would be fine.

So now I am waiting for the Bell repair person to come over and look at my phone and this means that I am going to have to move my vaseline covered futon. I am not looking forward to that. Plus I need to vacuum but I don't want to do it whilst waiting for them because I may not hear the buzzer to my aparment. I want this fixed I need my phone to work so that I can talk on it and be a boy and have fun.

I am still single (just in case any of you were wondering). I have been chatting withi this guy on gay canada but it does not seem to be going anywhere and I feel an interest in him but not enough to make me actually ask him if he wants to meet. I think perhaps i want to be pursued but this may not happen. In my experience I have almost always been the one to ask people out. There was one guy who tried to ask me out but he was so terrified of me that he kept running away. It was actually really amusing. He would come over and attempt to ask me questions in a crowded bar and then when I would answer and ask him a question he would get tongue tied and run away. So perhaps I should stand in line becuase it is not my turn - but when? I ask you, when will it be my turn?

So while I am waiting for the Bell repair individual I am going to finish my legal librarianship assignment and get to work on my PIPEDA project. Wish me luck.

Let me realize my worth

I hate vacuuming.

I really fucking mean it.

I have had to vaccum this damn apartment everyday since last thursday when I bought a new vacuum. Why? You may ask, well let me tell you. Because GOD HATES ME!!!!!!
THat is why!
ANd the reason god hates me is well probably obvious but I can not see it. But for whatever reason it is, it does hate me and has sent a plague of Bed Bugs upon my home (which I already don't like) and well that is that. So in order to ensure that spraying is as efffective as possible i have to vacuum every day along the baseboards and on my bed frame and my futon frame to make sure that I get all the eggs and any remaining survivors.
I fucking hate this!

All my furniture is several inches out from the wall because I have to do this every day for 2 weeks to a month and well, I don't feel like moving my furniture every day. If this does not work I am going to cry.
And well everyday I vacuum and everyday it seems to take a little less time, which I don't know if that means I am getting better at it or lazier, whatever the reason I wish this would end. I really do.

Oh well. Last weekend during the eating drinking olympics I came to a drunken realization of the worlds most perfect couple. Patsy from AbFab and Spike from Buffy and ANgel. Would they not be the cutest couple ever? Indestructable? Both with bad attitudes and a penchances for drugs and the naughty lifestyle. I think that they would be so cute in a weird revolting kind of way, but what do I know?

I felt the need to go husband hunting (what the hell do I mean - need? Do I need a man? I have no idea, can someone tell me if I do need a man? Cause I don't know how to tell) but I just shrugged it off and stayed home and went to bed early. This is beginning to concern me. I used to want a boyfriend and now I no longer want one, I don't care to talk to men all that much when I am not around them, but put one in my vicinity who is kind of cute and all of a sudden I am lonely and need male companionship, what the fuck is that about? I have become that Tori Amos song "Spark" where she lists of all of the things that someone doesn't want but then the chorus is : "But she don't, she don't really mean it" That is how I feel. I want all of these things but I feel a certain amount of velleity toward all of it and my life. This sucks because I used to feel a lot more passion toward what I wanted in life and now I feel like the song that opened the Buffy episode "Once more . . . with feeling" where she sings "I'm just going through the motions, walking through the part, nothing seems to penetrate my heart" Yup that about sums it up.
So if anyone can tell me how to find the energy I used to have, please let me know because this sucks.

And the winner is . . .

Actually the winner was both of us. We tied for the eating drinking olmpics, so soon in Guelph we will reconvene in order to find out who the master of the universe really is.
I think it can be Sarah I felt terrible all day yesterday and had to ask myself if I really thought that the fame and glory was worth it. I guess I should be a diva about the whole thing and just back out gently and not go down in flames. let someone else burn out, not me. I am too classy for that fucking bullshit!
Other than that not to much is going on. I wrote an essay that I am not particularly fond of and am going to hand in anyways. I am annoyed at the internet as i emailed some important files to myself from a legal database and they have not arrived, they are floating around somewhere in cyber space.
I am hoping that the bed bugs are gone for good. i ahve spent enough money on vaseline to control them so they had better be gone, I think that Meg thinks I went crazy on this one. Maybe I did, but what am I if I am not obsessive compulsive? I am nothing if I am not that.
I had a lovely night to myself last night, and just vegged and watched some film. I love slick films!
And that is that. No play by play of the olympics because to be frank after about the first hour I am sort of blurry, but we did our absolute best.

Lube me up and send me on

All right
As many of you will know from Mainja my apartment has bed bugs. I am so not impressed, at all. In fact I am kind of creeped out and I want to move. I already don't like this apartment and this is not making me love it anymore. In fact I am giving notice at the end of the month, I don't care what happens to me. A cardboard box will be better than this horrible place.
So I had the apartment fumigated and I have been fumigating and spraying like crazy myself. I even put the futon and frame in the bathroom, turned off the heat, opened the window and closed the door to kill them. I have sealed all the floorboard cracks, I have sealed around electrical outlets, I have covered the legs of my bed with vaseline and the the entire underside of my futon with vaseline as well. (it is baby poweder scented because not only does this suck but I am trying to find the humour in it - like lets say I ever meet a guy and take him home and we are making out on the futon and he puts his hand behind it and well there we go, lube for some masturbatory action and it smells pretty so you know that is not a bad thing) It took 2 jars of vaseline to cover the whole thing (I was using carpet tape but it won't still to some parts of the wood).
But I have to ask the question, how much does this suck? Well, a lot. It is much worse for Megan who is reacting badly to the bites. I barely even notice them (I feel like Megan and I are married which is kind of weird) but I feel bad for her.
So I hope that all of my efforts will pay off. I do not want these gross, creepy things in my life. I even saw one yesterday and I could not tell if it was dead or just using its survival skills to lie there like a bored hooker, either way I squished the mother fucker (there I go again - so sorry to all of you who are upset by my swearing. I am so glad my Mom does not read this blog (and that is not only for the swearing, I really don't need her calling me up and saying "What's fisting?" Imagine explaining that to my MOm. It would be even weirder then when I had to explain to her how I knew that eating pot would not make you hungry but smoking it would [this was in the context of my Mom telling me that that wanted to get some pot for my Grandmother who had alzheimers so that she would eat more])
So please let me be free of the bed bugs, I do not like them at all.

If you've got some sugar for me . . .

All right that is it I have had it with bills and money problems, I want me a sugar daddy. I want some older and distinguished gentleman to come along fall madly in love with me and give me most of his money. Is that too much to ask for? I mean honestly, what is wrong with this world. I am totally for someone just giving me money for being a hot piece of ass. ( I have no idea if I even fall into the hot piece of ass realm but for the sake of this entry I do, I am and I always will - so fuck you ! And fuck you too!) (there you go em!).
You know it always seems like the ones who deserve it the least are the ones who get the sugar daddies. You know what I mean, the sort of vapid, trophy boyfriends who really can not talk about anything besides sex and the gym and who has what and what their plans are for taking it away from them. Why has the world not realized that what we really need are sugar daddies who are sort of beneficiaries of the intellectual realm, or the artistic or the social worker. I for once would love to see a sugar daddy take someone under their proverbial wing and bankbook and not have it all be about youth, sex or beauty. Just for once I want to see this money going to help someone write their first novel and get it published (or in my case produce their first play - not first as in the first one I wrote but first as in the first one produced), or to get a young aspiring artist a gallery showing somewhere (or at least buy a fucking painting and not expect one just because the two of you are having sex, sheesh! Some people have no class what so ever does not matter how much money they have), or help that aspiring fashion designer to meet Karl Lagerfeld or Tom Ford (not Tom Jones which is what I wrote originally, what the hell was I thinking about?) so that they can get some tips and make some connections.
Basically I am bitter that I am going to have to work for a living and that no man seems to think that I am attractive enough to give me money to be their companion. I would really like it if some man did, but unfortunatly I have rather high standards of how this man will: look, behave, dress, smell and treat me, so I guess it if fair to say that this is not going to happen for me and I will have to keep living my life of being on nutri-sweet since I can not afford real sugar.
Oh woes me.

What the fuck? And more what the fuck?

In my information policy class we have had to do reviews on recent (I will get back to the whole recent thing) articles in the media having to deal with information in its many facets.
I of course chose to analyze the speech that Ms. Courtney Love gave at the digital hollywood conference courtney love does the math and I was quite proud of my review and my thesis that she was only using her speech to gather sympathy for her trail against universal music who is suing her for four more albums as they were taken over by Geffen.
That is not the point of this story, the point is that one student did a review on an article from Macleans about an older man in Winnipeg who died and no one found his body for 2 years. 2 WHOLE YEARS!!! Why you may be asking? I will tell you, becuase he was ill and his disease did not allow him to be incredibly mobile ( I am assuming that he was able to grocery shop and stuff or someone would have noticed sooner) and he was on disability and all of his bills were automatically paid, so his disability was direct deposit and all of his bills were direct payment. So no one discovered his body for two whole years. This disturbs me a great deal and I have no intention of ever using online banking now for anything because as soon as I fall into that trap it will probably kill me.
The other crazy item I have is this: this could be fiction a boy dies of herpes and they wonder if it has come from the Rabbi's mouth? I mean yuck, yuck and even more yuck. I realise that we could get all Foucault on this and say that the boys will only have psychological scarring if they believe in it, but honestly! If I ever found out that some creepy old Rabbi dude circumsized me with his mouth I would die. I thankfully do not have to worry about this becuase for some reason I am not circumsized (I know all of you wanted to know that, and I have asked my parents repeatedly why they did not and they won't tell me. Seems suspicious to me but they also won't tell me why they chose my name so who knows, could be related).
So for those of you expecting parents, do not get this guy to circumsize your child. Hell don't bother with it, there is no real medical advantage. But it does make the head of your penis that much more sensitive, and that in my opinion is a good thing.

Slowly, Slowly

I feel coarse and strain
Interrupt my mind again
I am being clear
I am sad to say I’m living here

I do it all the time
I do it all the time

It tries to interrupt me
Interrupt my mind
In a quiet room you wait
In another room they fight

They do it all the time
They do it all the time
They do it all the time
They do it all the time

Single fear
Clearly defined I’m wasting time again
Slowly coarse and strain go
Counting fear again no

Staring eye to eye
Then slowly me again
In another room they sit
Listening to other lies

And do it all the time
And do it all the time
And do it all the time

Single fear
Clearly defined I’m wasting time again
Slowly coarse and strain go
Counting fear again no

Staring eye to eye
Then slowly me again

Slowly, slowly

Slowly me again

Texas

We were talking just the other day
A day away from here
And decided to lock you in a room
To let you realize your worth
I want to take you on a trip
So far away from everything
We have in common
Or had in common

We were talking just the other day
A day away from here
And decided to lock you in a room
And let you realize your worth
I want to take you on a trip
So far away from everything
We have in common
Or had in common

Too blind to notice and too numb
To really feel
Consider the virtues and the
Need you really see
When you leave them behind
And watch them unwind
Leave them behind

We were talking just the other day
A day away from here
And decided to lock you in a room
And let you realize your worth
I want to take you on a trip
So far away from everything
We have in common
Or had in common

Too blind to notice and too numb
To really feel
Consider the virtues and the
Need you really see
When you leave them behind
And watch them unwind
Leave them behind

Are you really clear there
Can you really see behind

Run away, run away

Recently I have had the very strange experience of running into people from Guelph who I just don't like. I didn't like them then when I lived in Guelph and to be perfectly frank was happy to see them make the diaspora to Toronto, however now that I am here it only makes sense that I start running into them and I find it creepy, careless and unnecessary in my opinion.
Here is the deal:
There are two main offenders that I have recently run into Jen and Amanda (Just in case this is some holier than thou person reading this who thinks that they know who Jen and Amanda are and feel like telling them - don't - I am not using their real names. (so put that in your back pocket!) ) and it has been both awkward and relieving at the exact same time.
It has been awkward because I don't want to see these people, nor do I want to run into them. It is hell for me to relive the moments that I wasted with these people who are not my friends and never were, but for some reason I just could not shake them and being as fucking nice as I am I was never able to just flat out tell them to get lost. (however, nowadays I probably would do that - Oh if only I could run into Franco again (not real name))So seeing these people puts me on edge.
With Amanda it was on the subway that I saw her. I got on, grabbed hold of the bar and looked down and there she was and she was looking right back up at me. I am sure that a look of sheer terror was across my face, but I then diverted my look and hoped that she would not recognise me. I had lost a lot of weight and well the no hair thing also kind of throws people. She then stood up to get off and was face to face with me, it was definitly her and she said nothing and got off, I was so happy that she did not talk to me and want my number and to hang out, that would have been hell.
The other incident was today. I was walking home after work and I walked past Jen (still not her real name) and she looked right at me and I saw a glimmer of recognition but I flashed her a dirty look that made her stop her half smile and she kept on walking and I kept on walking. I so did not want to talk to her ever again, what an annoying twit nugget. And that night that her Mom hit on me at the underground (not real name of bar) was just pathetic, I mean how much more obvious can a gay guy be about being gay? She should have known better, tsk tsk. Not to mention the fact that she is old enough to be my mother.

80's Fan

You know it really won't surprise me
if you're a wreck by the age of fourteen
the way you look
the way you look is fine

So often colour coordinated
your sister she's an eighties fan
but that's alright
have I told you so is mine

You say your life will be the death of you
tell me, do you wash your hair in honey dew?
and long for all of them to fall in love with you
but they never do

Drinking vodka on the fly
your mother has a watchful eye
so look out kid
she's onto you this time

Run away to a bed and breakfast
console yourself with the Reader's Digest
ringing the Yellow Pages all alone

You say your life will be the death of you
tell me, do you wash your hair in honey dew?
and long for all of them to fall in love with you
but they never do
no they never do

I'm gonna tell you something good about yourself
I'll say it now and I'll never say it about no one else

I'm gonna tell you something good about yourself
I'll say it now and I'll never say it about no one else
about no one else

Helpful Hints

So
I recently have had this wave of nostalgia and have been getting all of these old films (old as in I saw them when I was a lot younger, you know like between the ages of 5-10) out of the public library. And I have noticed a trend with them, that someone has rewound them completely and then fast forwarded them to the beginning of the film. You know, past the previews and past the credits to where the film actually starts.
I find this very amusing because I used to do this when I was younger. I thought that I was being incredibly helpful by fast forwarding the tape to where the film actually began. (everyone knows that the credits are boring and that they are not the actual beginning of the film but some strange way of torturing us individuals by keeping us waiting that much longer. Yes I know that this implies that I had no patience as I child. I didn't and I still don't)
So this has happened with:The Desk Set, Where The Red Fern Grows, French & Saunders, and several others whose names are escaping me. But I think that it is so funny that perhaps out there in this city there is some child (or adult - you never really know) who is trying to be as helpful as I was back then.
Nowadays I still fast forward through the credits because I see them as a form of a foreword, that it is in a sense the director/film maker telling us how to perceive this film. I hate forwords, I hate someone telling me how to read a book, I never read the foreword until I am done reading the book. So I see the opening credits of a film as the same type of thing, that it is an attempt to layout groundwork on how to view the film.
However, I know respect the fact that maybe some other poeple might want to watch the film. And much like me, are now irritated by this hooligan punk who is fast forwarding through the credits. I can do it myself. Sheesh