More than just Prestige

What is it more to the Prestige?

The more I think about it, the less important it is that which Angier clone is killed. Then again maybe not.

Since they share the same memories, I like the idea of Angier being uncertain of which of him is going to die. I think it doesn't really matter to him that much because of a couple of things.

1. Angier wants the Prestige applause for himself. Does it really matter who dies since there is no way to distinguish the two anyway? He didn't have to keep on killing his clones. He could have simply just made one clone or two or three. He's rich; he can pay for their lives. Heck, legally, they all could be Lord Codwald or whatever his name is.

Killing I suppose can be or as been attributed to two things. One being the stronger argument or could simply be a combination of both.

A. Angier keeps killing himself, waiting for Borden (Freddy) to come backstage to be framed for his murder. Cutter wouldn't have gone down anyway if Freddy hadn't gone backstage. The problem with this is that how did "prestige" Angier know that that was the show that he was supposed to die? Is there any hint in the film that suggests that "prestige" Angier was watching Borden (Freddy)rush into backstage?

B. Angier just simply wanted the applause all to himself. Rather Angier has become so consumed by revenge and the "art" that he would kill himself every night. I don't think this was Angier doing penance for his wife's death. I think his wife's death isn't the primary conflict, but just a catalyst. He is more obsessed with Borden by the climax of the film.



Hence, more meat for the twin argument. Does it matter which Angier dies? Not really, since they're all the same person. They only become different because one dies and the other lives. This again is a strong point for the Bordens are twins argument. That fact that we (and Sarah as well) can distinguish between the two. This is why the cloned Angiers are such important contrasts to the twins. Angier is unwilling to share the Prestige with the other Angier. It's not about the trick or the applause anymore. It's about Borden.

Apparently a Borden he did not expect, because like us, Angier believed the pledge, that Borden is just one ordinary person. They shared the Prestige, a critical difference between the twins and the clones.

What bothers me is the apparent willingness of each Angier to perform the trick, knowing full well that he will fall into the trapdoor. The whole scheme's in his head as he delivers his patter. He knows one will die. How could he do that knowing what he knew? Especially if he knows it will be him. I suppose that's where the mourning reading comes from, but again it's much more (albeit less noble) than that. I suppose that's the risk that Angier talks about in the end.



So for the last time, does it matter which Angier is which? I think not. I feel that since they are exact genetic, emotional duplicates of each other, there is no way to tell them apart. On the other hand, the X-factor of the Borden twins is that they're just that, twins. Genetic duplicates, but clearly not the same emotional person.

A further, more disturbing implication, is the consciousness of Angier is unaware of who he is. It simply boggles that mind to try to draw the line somewhere between, original and copied (maybe this is really a statement on the state of piracy in the context of a developing society!). RnnBys on the imdb The Prestige boards, makes an excellent point:

When Angier is waiting for his machine to be built by Tesla, he is treated to a demonstration. First with his hat, then with the cat. In the original construction of the machine, there was no trap door. The original stayed inside the machine, and the clone was outside (which needed to be "calibrated" by Tesla later so he could place those clones where he wanted). So, to be clear, the original stays inside the machine, clone reappears somewhere else.

Now you must think of the mindset of that clone. Suppose it is you or I that is being cloned. Also assume that all of the memories and idiosyncrasies are copied and given to that clone. That would mean when the clone reappears at some other location, he would believe he was the original and he was merely transported. The real one inside the machine would [correctly] believe he is the real version. So now you have 2 seperate entity's believing they are the original.

This is why the clone who falls into the water struggles and doesn't appear to want to commit suicide. He doesn't at all. The night before, he was the one who appeared off stage on the balcony. And as we already established, he believed he was the original. So when he steps into the machine tonight, he believes he will be the one who is transported, since he was convinced the night prior that he gets transported. He doesn't. The original falls through the trap door he set up for the clone, but it does not turn out that way. Every night one gets to experience the prestige, and the next night unwittingly dies to allow his clone to repeat. Proof: Angier says that he does not know whether he will be the man in the box or the man who recieves the applause for the prestige.

If I am correct, then the particularly tragic part is the original, unadulterated Angier (the one we see most of the movie until Angier starts performing the trick) is the only one of all of his versions to have never seen the Prestige, because he was never actually teleported.

We, as an audience, are meant to deceipher which Borden twin is which, possibly not meant to tell the two Angiers apart. Each and every Angier had the same expeirence and the exact same motivation. Freddy and Fallon, on the other hand, clearly have different goals on one level as shown by Olivia and Sarah. However all three (or four or five or dozen) men share the same goal of delivering the definitive performance of the Transported Man. Their methods were different, but ultimately only one gets transported to the end to take part in the prestige and that man is Fallon.

The Prestige: the Magic of Filmmaking in Three Acts

If you haven't seen "The Prestige", which is Christopher Nolan's new film, stop reading this spoiler-filled entry and WATCH IT NOW.

Of course a great reason to watch this is to fawn over Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale, but the real meat to this is the masterful storytelling that Nolan achieves.

If you've seen it, proceed and let the melting pot of ideas brew.



Many people have discussed the merits of the film, but the most baffling aspect of it is the nature of the character/s of Borden.

I don't believe in a "good" or "bad" twin, simply because it's too simple, for a person to be black and white.




I see this movie as having three inherent themes:

1. MAGIC: The movie itself as a magic act, wherein Nolan is the illusionist- many reviews have already said this, but what takes it further is that, the movie itself has it's own Pledge, Turn and Prestige.

It's easy to talk about the Turn and Prestige.

The Prestige for each character is when Angier appears as Lord, "coming back from the dead" and when Fallon appears to shoot Angier. From a narrative point of view, it's when the two "come home" or apparently reveal their true selves.


The Turn is when the "ordinary" object, in this case the film (or the journals, as these are the ones that tell the bulk of the story) do something extraordinary. I think this is shown for both characters when each character discovers the end of the "self-aware" journals. It is when the audience is left baffled after being led to believe that film was going down this one road.

The Pledge is this one road, we are led to believe, initially that Alfred Borden is guilty of murdering Angrier. Most of us probably never questioned that idea, because all that is revealed to us initially is how Angier perceives the events.

However, remember that as a magic act, the audience believes what we want to believe.

Nolan's genius is that scene where the young boy cries at the disappearance of the bird in the cage. "He killed it!" the boy cried. I don't know about you, but the majority of the audience in the theater, myself included, chuckled at that ridiculous thought. After all, it's only magic right?

Cut to the reveal of the bird carcass being thrown to the rubbish bin.

We are instantly revealed of being guilty of believing what we want to believe. It is the innocent, "ignorant", young boy who was right all along. This is because he values the bird inside the cage, or the man inside the box.

In our desire to want to see magic, we believe many things. I think Nolan pulled this off throughout the entire film, not just in the plot itself, but in the characters.

2. OBSESSION/PASSION: It depends on how you want to look at it, if it's healthy it's a passion, but the moment it becomes scary, it is an obsession. This idea is also pretty obvious as the idea is thrown around a lot. How far would you go to achieve your goal?

The movie clearly presents Angier's answer. He would kill himself, or rather sacrfice other people. I don't think he really cared that much about those other Angiers. I have entertained the thoughts of the original Angier being killed off initially or when he presents himself to the producer, but for the strength of this point does not depend on what really happens, but rather why they happen.

He was willing to get his hands dirty. Ultimately, I think Angier is more selfish than Borden. He willingly kills people. Now I'm not saying Borden's a saint, but the respect that was unwilling to give his double. Borden's in it for the applause. He's a showman after all. Borden's in it for the illusion itself.


3. IDENTITY: This hasn't been discussed yet, but is an important point when you consider the nature of all the discussions on the twin/clone agruments.

What is the nature of Identity? This is especially important in the parting words of the condemned Borden to Fallon. Live for the both of us.

What kind of a brother would do that? What kind of a clone would do that? In both cases, the answer is still unclear. Either way, the answers will be unclear, unless you consider one possiblity.

There is no such person as ALFRED.

Let's re-examine the Pledge of the film. Most of us entered the cinema knowing that the plot involved two rival magicians. Of course in the end, we realize that there are actually three. It is the nature of the third one that is in question.

We are definitely sure that there is a Rupert Angier/Lord Codlow. I don't think there will be many arguments on this point. However what about Borden?

Most people look at it this way, there is Borden and Fallon. Two distinct people, but both of them have been played by both individuals.

What then would drive a person, or rather two persons to carry on this burden? The answer of course is Obsession/Passion. To live your art.

I believe that many of those vaudeville Chinaman/Oriental (forgive me Edward Said) performers ham up their acts. They capitalize on their "exotic" features and force themselves to live heavily altered existences. Their lives have become an act.

The great act is not so much the Transported Man, but the character of Alfred Borden. He is the shared work of two magical geniuses, who share an obsession with their art. The only thing that they don't share is their love.

I personally believe that the distinct difference between Borden and Angier is that Borden has always been a "natural magician" and Angier a "nurtured magician." In addition to this, I think clones, seeing that they share memories, will also share the same tastes. So right now in my head, the clone theory (which was the one I leaned towards initially) doesn't hold water.

For their magic act to work, and for them to share the glory as well (as shown by them switching disguises), they must create a new character. Angier does this as well, hence the adopting the name the Great Danton or something like that. The twins, must create a new person whom they can both play and live out. Assuming that Freddy is the one that loves Olivia and Fallon is the one that loves Sarah, one can take the first syllables of their name and they can be combined to form one name. FAL-FRED. Cut the F, and you get their alter ego, Alfred. Someone they can both control, unlike the stand-in that Rupert Angier had.

What's important to look for in a second viewing of the movies is who is who? Who is Freddy (the dominant one) and who is Fallon (the subdued one)? I don't think this overanalyzing (if this is overanalyzing, then we'd all have been long guilty of it) because there have been many texts, films, books, studies that have dealt with twins assuming one personality and with twins having dominant and subdued personalities. Much like Chung Ling Soo, their magic will only work if the public believes what they want them to believe.

Why then did Freddy ask for Fallon's forgiveness? How could Fallon let Freddy die? This is because at this point, they've become individuals. The magic act is over. Freddy is apoligizing because his death is the death of their act, or rather their final act of "The Transported Man" - from gallows to theater. It's "all right" for Freddy to die because it was his "fault" for nibbling on the bait that Angier dangled. It doesn't make it just, but if the trick requires one brother to die, then so be it. The difference between the Bordens and Angier is the consent (or at least acceptance of his fate) that Freddy has as opposed to the Angier clones who were esentially trapped into the water tanks.

The limitation to this theory is that since they both played Alfred and Fallon, then Fallon himself must be a character as well. I think that the series of events, particularly the suicide of Sarah and the execution of Freddy, lends credence to the idea that Fallon could have been based on the personality of one of the twins.

The questions of identity is this, what is one's the real identity? The one we show to other people? Or the one we are inside?

In magic, it doesn't really matter. It's the trick that entertains and enthralls us, not the secret.

Oh yeah, and what would you do in bed with two Christan Bales?

And so we continue to discuss.

Me Likey...

I like sexually explicit indie movies. Maybe that speaks volumes of my repressed state or secretly liberated state of mind, but a crappy film cannot hide behind oodles and oodles of sex. The sex might make the unwatchable servicable, but it will bring about more than a passing fancy.

I've seen so many "gay" movies that try to mean more but just end up piling on one cliche after another. One film that transcends this is "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" by John Cameron Mitchell. It is quite difficult to swallow (or follow) at times because of its very surreal...everything, but a worthy watch nonetheless.

John Cameron Mitchell's new film, Shortbus, takes on a similar challenge of exploring sexuality but this time it's heralded by the hype of it's real sex scenes. As with anything that is similarly promoted, there will always be two kinds of viewers, those who just want to see the sex and those who think they're above the sex aspect.

The truth is that it is difficult, if not impossible, to dissociate the two. Given that the topic, wait not the topic but rather the treatment, is so taboo the curiousity of one person is what will usually entice a viewer, no matter what his or her values are, to give this film a try. What remains to be seen is if the film itself will take the viewer away from the erections and cumshots to find the very real and very ordinary struggles with sexuality.

If you anyone hears of this movie playing locally, give me a ring.



If you somehow felt shortchanged by that, another trailer exists, but it's not good for public consumption. However, if you're brave enough and are in a safe place, click here for the uncensored trailer.

OGTs

"Well, here's to your first OGT. Obviously Gay Trait. Mine are: love of The Carpenters, culinary interests, and intense fear of blood sports."

For those who saw this old movie about this group of gay friends, "The Broken Hearts Club" or something like that, one of the terms they used was the OGT or "Obviously Gay Trait." I don't know if this term has been widely used before it, but undoubtedly it has been used more ever since.

OGTs are deceiving. Taken individually, they're not a guarantee to produce a homosexual man. Together though, it's like magic. Goes to show that men who are gay are truly more than the sum of their parts.

Some of mine are
1. Love for theatre
2. Love for cats
3. Appreciation for Shakespeare

So with that I present to you a surprisingly pleasant mix of my three OGTs. I love the one who plays Rosencrantz, cute eyes, full of personality. Although I think he also played Guildenstern, so yeah, whatever. Come to think of it, I have that cardboard cutout Elizabethan theatre used in this clip. I bought on an impulse at this tiny, tiny museum of music in Oxford.

Who is this guy?

This is one of the hottest guys I've seen online as of the late.



From the looks of it, he's Asian-American, possible of mixed races (as demonstrated by his, er, assets) and wears glasses. Extra points for guys with glasses, which I find particularly cute. He's been featured in Queer Click before, but they never got around to revealing him until now, which is over a year later. The only thing we knew last week is that his name's Jason Chen and that he's possibly cute. Now we know that he's got, er, blessings, which certainly got my attention. I don't usually go for guys whose faces are hidden, but this guy is just - WOW.

For the more -ahem- detailed pictures, go on over to Queer Click. A word of warning though, these pictures are highly graphic in nature and are NOT SAFE for viewing IN PUBLIC PLACES or AT WORK. If you have no qualms about it, click here.

Pseudo Date Number Wha?

Crap, just when I thought it was time to move on.

Yesterday as I was typing in my blog entry, I received a message on Friendster. Actually, it was a reply to a message I sent this guy I sorta liked before. The thing was we never really got to meet. I tried sending him a couple of messages last June and he didn't reply. So I thought, all right, time to move on. Call in the next guy!

Turns out he lost his phone. Or so he says in his message. I'm inclined to believe him, so yeah, he wants to reestablish communication. That made my day. However one cannot look too eager or too excited.

So as with anything that is bound to fuck up your head, the unexpected happens.

I was getting ready to go out for the day. Maybe go to work for some extra overtime paperwork (I do this for fun) or hit the mall with some friends. I also had plans to have dinner with a friend, the one who introduced me to Kakkoii.

Then Kakkoii texts. Crap.

He's sort of asking me out in a very non-committal sort of way.

Didjaget that? No? Lemme rephrase.

He said something like this.

Are you in the area?

Not yet, but I'm on my way. What did you have in mind?

Nothing. I just might want company for dinner.

Ladies and gentlemen, I haved just presented to you the non-committal dinner invite.

To rearrange my schedule or not? That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageously ambigious pseudo-dates or by taking arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them?

So I did.

After a series of misunderstandings, we finally met. He was with two guys whom he introduced to me as the friends of our other common friend, James. The two immediately left and after a week and a half, I was with Kakkoii again.

No we weren't on a date. He pretty much made that clear when he told me that those two asked if he was on one. His reply? Yeah, not really.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

Gee, that made me feel reeeeeaaal special.

He then added that the two guys said, "Aaah, yeah we know you two are going out. James told us."

Gah.

So pseudo-date number who knows what proceeds well enough. We always enjoy our time together. It's the time away that brings about problems.

However I did encounter one critical flaw in his definition of a date. When he found out that I was with James that afternoon, he remarked,

You should have told me that you were with James, that way I wouldn't have interrupted your date.

Where the fuck did that come from? He knows very well that James and I are friends and just that. And if James and I are "dating" then I'm frickin' engaged to Kakkoii already by that definition of his. Of course, using his other definition of dating (which he applied to the time we're together), relatively James and I are merely aquaintances.

Mixed signals as usual.

When I told him I went to work in the afternoon. He asked me why I had to report to work since it was a Saturday.

I said it was because I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to work. It's what I always do.

He then opened his mouth to say something, only to take it back. He said it was because it sounded like he was fishing for a compliment.

I twisted his arm for him to say it and after a bit of hesitation, he said:

I meant to say, you'd rather to go work than hang out with me.

Uh, he doesn't text me for days and he expects me to hang out with him? Like I always say, I'm a straightforward guy. Reject me, I'll go away.

So I throw back to him this statement:

You didn't ask me out.

He didn't look at me.

Satisfied with my answer?, I smiled.

No, not really.

I leave this story at this point. What did he mean by that? Discuss the answer amongst yourselves children.

Losing Count of Dates and Not Losing One

It seems that it's a good sign if you lose count of how many dates you've been on...

Date Two was followed by Date Three at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant, incidentally, we were the only non-Japanese in that small nook. Pretty nice. Date four was at a Vietnamese restaurant because we thought that we ate too much Japanese food. He wasn't in a particularly good mood that day so I tracked down this graphic novel that he was looking for. I gave to him with a note that said "Because you had a bad day and since a dozen roses wouldn't suit you." He was happy as a clam and was grinning from ear to ear.

Date five was a big one. We had lunch at a Wendy's at the mall, with me spilling my Coke on the table (gah) which exposed my klutzy side. He seemed irritated, but was gentlemanly enough to help me clean up the cola swamp on our table. We left the mall for a book expo which was crowded as hell, but fun nonetheless. After that we went to this huge new mall which almost felt a like theme park in its scope and design. We caught a movie, a romantic comedy, and about more than an hour into it, as the music turned mellow over a scene in Paris, he grabbed my hand and held onto it. -swoon- For dinner, we went back to the sushi bar we went the week before. No all-you-can-eat for us at that time, but more Japanese curry though (we both just love that stuff). I drove him home once again and I held his hand for a good length of time as we crawled through the freeway.

The next day, Sunday, was spent flirting and missing each other through phone calls and text messages and when Monday came, I was hot and bothered for him. I picked him up from the gym and had dinner at the Japanese restaurant where we had our first date. We went back to his place and I watched TV while he went to the bathroom. There I was, plopped on his beanbag, when he suddenly lunged for me. I couldn't really breathe, but I happily reciprocated his kiss. This guy was beautiful. I went home that night with a shit-eating grin on my face.

At this point let me interrupt my narrative. Chances are one would expect some sort of happy ending or least a period of contentment, but sadly that was not to be.

The following day, Kakkoii suddenly became quite grumpy. I called him up after I got home from work and he said he was busy and that he'd call me back. When he finally did the conversation went rather well but as we were saying our good nights and good byes, he suddenly said something to the effect that he really didn't want to call since calling me up would mean that he'd up until eleven.

-ouch-

That was cold.

Being the nice guy that I am, I calmly told him that it was all right and that he shouldn't have called if he felt that way.

I woke up the following day - annoyed like hell. He sent me a message apologizing for his behavior the previous night. I told him that I wasn't mad, but I didn't appreciate him making me feel like I'm some sort of intrusion into his life. He barely responded to my texts later that day. I wanted to meet up with him, but reading that he didn't want to, I made other plans.

Later that night, he sends this message to me: Funny, I was kinda expecting to see you outside the gym.

Crap. What was I supposed to say to that?

I wanted to, but the thought that you were mad at me or that you didn't want to see me stopped me.

That was all right. The following day however I waited for his call. He said that he was depressed and wanted to crawl back into his shell.

Surprise, surprise. He called his ex and needed a shoulder to cry on. Shit.

Facts I learned that night:

1. He broke up with his ex last July (we started going out August)

I could deal with this, technically they broke up already.

2. He then said they really didn't break up, they were just "cooling off."

Why doesn't he just fuck with my brain some more? Still, I could deal with this.

3. He said that he thought of me as someone who could possibly help him forget his ex.

Do I have the word martyr tattooed on my forehead? Ouch, but since I dated him with the premise that I was also trying to get over someone else, I could deal with this.

4. He said that he never really considered us dating.

THIS, I cannot deal with. There's a world of a difference between just hanging out and dating in my book. Going out, holding hands, kissing and sleeping with each other does not add up to not dating. It may not add up to a relationship just yet, but definitely not friendly.


We went out a few more times. I felt like he pushed me back to square one. Go back to GO, do not collect $200. Screwed me up like nothing else in recent memory. Little by little, things went back a little bit. There was the slight nod to us still meeting regularly and that I was still slowly becoming a part of his schedule. That was good. Not great but good.


However, dark clouds loomed over the horizon. He suddenly stopped texting warmly. He suddenly became cold and distant. When I asked him out, he simply replied: No thanks.

If that's not rejection, I don't know what it is.

I proceeded to ignore him but after a couple of days, he sent me a message. I replied, hoping that he'd be opening up. It turns out it was a set-up for more mindgames.

And then it just stopped. A month of frequent whatevers just stopped and I don't know why.

So how do I feel?

Not great, but good.

I didn't lose. And I didn't lose him either.

After all, you can't lose what you never had in the first place.

The Dating Fool

Major update for myself, not that anyone's actually reading this shit.

The day after my first date, I was in a daze. That's putting it mildly. I think I was sort of on a natural high.

Most of the dates I go on are absurdly awkward. I remember one wherein I liked the guy, a college brat, but he didn't like me back, so it was just a numbingly tense experience. I didn't help that our date movie was "Ringu." Bad, bad idea. The other one I recall, was with this widowed hippie and the guy was all over me. While I really didn't do anything to encourage him, he kept grabbing my hand in the cinema and being all fresh and stuff. The movie was "Scary Movie 3." I don't know which was scarier, my date, the horrible movie or that fact that after the movie he insisted on treating me to a hot oil treatment at the salon. WHAT THE FRICKIN' FUCK? Oh yeah, another was with this Joe Schmoe guy who was new to the city and could barely sustain a conversation with me, but boy was the sex good.

Crap, so my dating record hasn't been very good. That's why I'm extremely nervous about this guy. I haven't dated in two years! Okay, maybe a year, but that one was just vague. This guy, whom I shall refer to as Kakkoii, is on so many levels just like me and at the same time, so different from me as well. So maybe he's has some baggage, I can live with that. Who doesn't have baggage anyway?

So where was I? Ah yes, that post-great-date-high....

I texted him the following day (this was last, last Monday) with the usual "how are yous" and "I really enjoyed last night" messages. Then I felt impulsive and asked him if he wanted to have dinner that night.

I became very nervous. Was I being too aggressive? A great date doesn't always mean it gets a follow up.

I'd love to, but I don't have enough money to eat somewhere nice and I left my ATM at home

Great, he doesn't want me. I decided I'd try one more time.

Don't worry, my treat.

A beat.

That might be too embarassing.

Crap. I couldn't really think of anything else to say. Nothing was clearer at that moment than I wanting to go out with him again. One last shot.

Hey, don't worry, it's pretty simple actually. Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? If no, then fine, no questions asked. If yes, then we'll have dinner. My treat. Won't be a problem.

Fuck, the cyncical closeted guy actually becoming agressive? I had butterflies in my stomach and I felt like I had to leave my desk to go to the toilet to throw up. My friend, amused, looked at me pace around the office like an idiot.

My phone rumbles and rings. A message from Kakkoii.


Sure, I wanna have dinner wija.

w00t!!!

I flew as soon as the clock struck five and an hour later I was in front of his gym, picking him up. We went a Japanese coffee shop (didn't we just eat Japanese food the day before?) and has some really good spicy Japanese pasta and Japanese seafood curry.

We both acknowledged the idea that this might go somewhere, but agreed that we won't tell our common friend who introduced us...yet. Who knows where this will lead? I'll be a prude for now.


I drove him to his house and we hung out in his room. I helped him solve some PC-to-mobile phone issue that he's having and played some Playstation 2.

No kiss that night...


but happy nonetheless.

First Date

So it started off as one of those flirty messages on the cellphone.

---------------------------

I'm lonely. I guess there's no sex for me tonight.

Haha, I thought for a moment there that you were going suck off someone.

Me? Nah, I could only hope.

Need a volunteer? Haha.

---------------------------

At this point the conversation had turned a little bit...you know, raunchy and I wasn't sure what to make of it. I really, really like this guy and the prospect of bedding him was all too tempting, but I ultimately decided that what I really wanted is if I could be friends with the guy. So I go:

---------------------------
Tempting, but I'd really rather ask you out for dinner or a movie.

Prude! Haha.

Hey, what can I do? I'm just an innocent boy, unfamiliar with the ways of the flesh. Fine, sex first and then dinner after.

Boy? Now I'm having second thoughts. How old are you anyway?

Haha, just teasing! I'm in my mid-twenties. Hardly what you'd call a boy.

Whew. Still lonely? Want to come over?

What do you have in mind?

Nothing much, dinner or a stroll.

Sounds good.

---------------------------
The date itself was delayed by an hour because of the heavy traffic I had to endure (on a Sunday afternoon of all days). When we finally met up at the mall, it was all a blur. I babbled non-stop, not sure if this was a good thing. He did however babble on as well. It didn't feel mighty awkward, not at all even. Of course there was this slight tension as this was only the second time we met each other, but the lingering thought in my head was that I couldn't believe I was just flirting with this guy over the phone a couple of hours ago. It seemed hardly imaginable that the hot, goofy guy I was with was capable of being well...raunchy.

Dinner itself was forgettable. The food was a bit bland; he ordered the better stuff. I hated what I ordered. Good thing that the conversation kept flowing and flowing. It was good to be able to talk freely about nearly everything about my life.

When he steered the conversation into the territory of the ideal mate, as we traversed through the mall, I nearly choked on the hard candy I had in my mouth.

I stammered for an answer.

"Uh, brains?"

You see my ex hadn't been particularly smart. So that was something I sorely missed. I'd love a guy who'd be physically and sexually stimulating, but I need my spiritual and intellectual stimulation as well.


"Great," he said, "I can introduce you to my friend, Krang."

Gah, Ninja Turtle reference. God, I think I can really like this guy. In fact, I think I already do. Thumpty-thump. It didn't help that the bookstore we were in at the moment was playing "Mine" from Pocahontas. Gah, so fruity and it climaxed with a play of "Out There" from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

As I drove him home, I threw the question back at him. I wanted to know what he was looking for and if I fit the bill.

Same interests. Check. So far, so good.

Non-smoker. -crap-

Gym buff. -shit-

He mentioned a couple of other things, but the last two just sort of stuck with me and really left me defeated. Although I did hear him say something like the one he's really looking for is similar interests. He then proceeded to enumerate things about his ex that wasn't like him. Ouch, it seems that his ex and I share a couple of traits as well. Maybe this guy might want to jump ship from me. Maybe he doesn't like me that much.

All this of course while I was driving him home. I couldn't really concentrate on the road. Would there be a second date? Should I ask about a second date? Maybe that would be a bit too desperate or maybe a little too forward. Crap, I don't know.

Before I knew it, I had brought him home. No way I was going to be invited in at this point. He doesn't drink coffee, so that's not an option. He had to work. I had a party on the other side of the city to get to. Sex wasn't an option after all things he wanted that wasn't me.

And then he kissed me. Not on the lips, but to the side. Not quite cheeks, but close enough for his stubbles to graze my lips as I returned the favor right there beside his lips. How I wanted to draw him in for more, but the moment was over in a flash. We smiled and I was on my way - giddy.

Goodbye, until tomorrow then.

And on the 11th hour...

God said, "Let there be Emo."

And the Emo crawled over the earth with their slightly goth forlorn eyes and their eyes welled up and with a collective sigh, they made music. Sweet, sad music.


Now, I don't know what to think about this one, since I don't really know this anime, but I like Avenue Q. Goes to show what happens to a person when he thinks too much; he starts blogging about anime characters moving to a song sung by a puppet.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where we find relevance nowadays.

Staples of Gay Fantasy

Almost every person who's gay has had at least one of the following fantasies.

1. My Best Friend

Having a best friend is almost synonymous with growing up. If growing up includes with wrestling with one's own sexuality, then most likely nearly everyone has had a best friend they've fallen for. To make matters even more complicated, the best friend is most likely straight (or supposedly straight) and with a girlfriend.

This is falling for the familiar. Who else is more qualified to understand you than that one you grew up with? Sex is supposedly better with the familiar and the personal.


2. My Roommate

Continuing the theme of growing up, many go on to a college or university and they're forced to live with someone. This someone is usually a stranger and the promise of an encounter (or a relationship) with a person who doesn't really know you that well is definitely exciting. However the ultimate clincher for this is the intrusion of the unknown into your private life. Having to share your personal space with someone you barely know is so much easier with hot eyecandy.


3. My Hot Co-Worker

Once a guy's out of college and he's faced with the trials of life, the carefree days of experimenting are usually relegated to fond memories (or unspeakable horrors) of the past. The hot co-worker (or boss or subordinate) brings in the dynamic of ruffling up the feathers of monotony at work or finding someone who shares your slot in the rat race. This usually comes in the form of a new hire who shakes up the world of everyone in the office.


Fantasies in my case are synonyms with frustration. Many of us have that great love whom we cannot have. Mine falls in the first and third categories.


Which one is yours?

Smokin' in the Storm

There's a storm in town - a typhoon and a relatively big one.


So work gets called off in my company and I wake up not knowing what to do. Having a free day off from work means that I need to work twice as hard when we get back in. Joy.

I get out of bed and then I stretch a little. Feeling the itch in my lungs, I fish for my pack of cigs in my jacket and I step out into the veranda, where the torrent of the rains and winds just won't stop.

I, careful not to use up my wishstick, take one stick and light it with my blue flame torch lighter.

After drinking in the chaos that surrounds me, I take one deep puff and settle in the garden chair.


Sane?

Maybe not.


Sexy?


Oh yeah.

Pirate's Booty!

This post is long overdue, by a week at least. I saw "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest" twice the other week. What can I say? I'm a huge Jack Sparrow fan. Johnny Depp really deserved that Oscar nomination for the first flick.

However, this won't be me fawning over the artistic (or commercial) merits of the movie. I can do that in my real life. I'm here for fawn over the men. Actually, at the risk of sounding like a teenage girl, I'm just talking about one guy here.

I *Heart* Norrington!

In "Curse of the Black Pearl", I was too busy being enthralled by the brilliance of Depp's Jack Sparrow and the tantalizing promise of a glimpse of Legolas-excuse me- Orlando's pectorals to pay poor Jack Davenport any attention.

I suppose when you look all prissy and proper, one does look a bit too sanitized and a tad boring. Heck, I didn't even realize he was Jack Davenport (who was the real reason I loved The Talented Mr. Ripley).

Fast forward to "Dead Man's Chest" (which thankfully was not literally that literal as like most people, I'm not really into necrophilia) and Jack Davenport swaggers into the scene as the rugged, unshaven and drunk James Norrington.

Hubba! Hubba! Now that's what I call a man! Sort of like something out of Lost or something, isn't it? Jack Davenport looks like he's a mix of a bit Ralph Finnes and Christian Bale (a fantasy pair up I'd love to see), but to be fair to him all thoroughly Jack Davenport.

He's dastardly and still oh so sexy. I've never really been into Johnny Depp (probably because I was still too young during the height of 21 Jumpstreet), so I've never really been attracted physically to Jack Sparrow. He is however still a force to be reckoned with and this movie really moves around him.

Poor Orlando Bloom's Will Turner is the only honest man in the entire adventure. He's become so boring that unless he does something underhanded, I'd be cheering on Keira Knightley's Elizabeth Swann to end up with Norrington or Sparrow. Will's a eunuch. Although I must say the whipping scene was bit hot - if not a bit too contrived to turn the cranks of those Orlando Bloom fans. True, he's romantic, but in a film littered with fleshed-out, double-crossing characters, he's as flat as paper Ken doll - the token boytoy.

Here's hoping that in the third movie, Will Turner will become "curious" and do something dastardly. And that Norrington will take his shirt off.

Then again, most likely he'll go back to the distinguished lemon turd that he was. Shame.

The Queer Debate

When I told one of my closest friends that I'd be starting a blog called Closet Queer, he had to stifle a giggle.

"Why," he asked, "did you ever choose such a name?"

This guy wasn't gay, but he did have a point. The LGBT community is split on the use of this word.

Its history shows that it was used as a slur against homosexuals of both genders. The denotative meaning of "strange", connotes a movement that is against the norm or worse: abnormal. Thus some activists would denounce the use of such a word and regard it as a step backward for gay rights.

Other activists would however claim that the genderless term "queer" is an appropriate word to unite all homosexuals of varying degrees under a single banner.

I am not an activitst. I am a gay man in the closet. I do not fancy myself a queen, not that I doubt that maybe I could be one, but at the moment, I'm just a guy who likes guys.

I do not really belong to the mainstream of society. While I function, day in and day out, as a regular guy I still constantly find myself struggling with my sexuality. Struggling because I can't seem to meet the right guy.

It should be as simple as going out to a bar, but the situation is far more complicated than that. With my job, I can't be caught visiting a gay bar or something like that.

On the other hand, I do not belong to gay subculturem, not really at least. Let me clarify my statement, I do not belong to the popular gay subculture.

I'm a true anomaly. A true queer in that sense.

Hence, I'm Closet Queer.

Life Inside the Closet

Welcome to the inside of my closet.

It's tough being a gay man even in today's world- even tougher to be closeted gay man. So much uncertainty abounds, but somehow I have a feeling we'll get through.