Sylar Trek

Star Trek (2008)  D- J.J. Abrams   w- Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman  DP-Daniel Mindel a.s.c

So I’m writing this mainly to brag that I got to go to the movies last night with not one, but TWO of the bestest, most famousest gay bloggers on the planet. I went to see “Star Trek: The Stedicam Handheld Shaky Motion Picture” at the IMAX in San Francisco. I was met there by Moby and Rob. We got there over an hour early, but the line was still a mile long, and the assembled geekiage was, I’d modestly estimate, about 98.921 % homo.

Specifically, genus  ursinus geekaloidious trekkie.

Naturally, Both of the Miz popularity winners I was with Knew just about all of them.


So the Movie is indeed pretty damn awesome, but it does suffer from the affliction of every other Star Trek theatrical film before it. Namely, the need to go all high concept- razzle dazzzle- blow ’em out o f their seats- make a huge box office killing so the studio suits can’t make a huge film producer killing. They succeeded at this with more panache than, in my opinion, every other Trek film ever made.  By and large, that isn’t saying much, as they all rather suck. Let’s face it, even the much worshipped 1982 cornfest “Star Trek II: The Wrath of KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” which is deified in trekkiedom , is a rather wooden, hamfisted film.

Star Trek has always flourished best in Television series format, or on the page. I would personally reserve that view only for The Original Series, Most of The Next Generation, and bits and pieces of the other series, with the exeption of that mind numbingly dull abortion”Enterprise”

Small, modest, thought provoking pieces are where Gene Roddenberry’s vision was and is best served. I wrote the following on a fan blog a few days ago, but I still atand by it. It encapsulates what I’m trying to say here.

I wrote:

Star Trek was never about eye banging, bone jarring action and optical effects. It was never paced at breakneck , ocd generation bam, bam, BAM speed.The optical effects in the average episode took up about 3 minutes of screen time when put all together. Action sequences took place within the story. Stories were never written solely around them.

Star Trek was about ideas.

Star Trek was about stories. – Not “plot” or “concept” …stories.

Star Trek was about the characters.

This was all achieved by an enormously talented pool of Writers, Producers, Actors, and Directors/Artists/Craftsmen. ESPECIALLY the Writers.

Thank god that the original series was on such a shoestring budget. It forced them to work that much harder crafting the words. It showed.

It forced them to work that much harder, period.

THAT is what Star Trek was ,and is, about.

Arright, so what the fuck DID I actually like about it, then?

Quite a lot, actually.

The cast was uniformly excellent. They have a dynamite chemistry together. There seems to be a wholly new Kirk/Spock/Bones dynamic which is very refreshing. I thought that Chris Pine and Zach Qinto in particular nailed their respective roles. The Enterprise, both inside and out looks fabulous. With the exception of Engineering, which for some reason is actually just a Budweiser brewery in Van Nuys. Who knew? At least in this version of the final frontier, Kirk and Spock will always have a cold one available at all times.

All the Vulcan shit involving Spock’s backstory and parentage was flawless, and VERY faithful to the letter and spirit of  TOS canon. Marvelously acted, too.

Oh yeah…here’s a picture of me taken on Vulcan. Went there for a holiday a few years ago. Wow. I even wore those same cammies to the movie last night.

It’s a bit fuzzy, but if that’s a problem for you, well then you just get your own fuckin spaceship and travel 40 light years to Vulcan and take your own pic, ok?vulcan


2 great things to make your day

Item #1 is this story, heard today on the radio:

pentecostal church in Tennessee– one of those crazyass churches full of snake handling, sister fondling, gibberish spouting inbred lunatics is being sued by a young woman because she was crushed by a fellow churchgoer during one of their revivals. Seems the unfortunate girl was tasked with the job of standing behind these hillbillies and catching them as they fall back in rapture. The minister or whatever they call themselves splays their six fingers from each hand across the forehead and screams gibberish and then the reciever is suppose to get all jiggy and pass out. Well, in this case, the reciever was 450 lbs of skeleton buckling, krispy fried chickin eatin fatass hillbilly. She fell back on the poor dumb girl like a polyester clad Hummer. Upon impact with the floor, the hapless girl recieved the full weight of the gargantuan jellied jaysus lover full on her, thus instantly breaking both her arms, wrists, and back. she is suing for unspecified damages. 

Item # 2 is this magnificent video. Watch this. It’s unspeakably awesome. I almost injured myself when I saw it.  

This, that and the other thing

…Starting with the other thing…..

Remember in my last post how I was describing the rude ass uber bear bore? Did I mention that he was local? And that it would be likely that we’d cross paths again? Well, he is and we did. He came into the Lone Star on Saturday night, with his hot cubby boy-whatever as I was chatting with an old bar aquaintance, Terrence*. He (Terrence*) said “Oh look, here comes the ex-con I dated last year” Of course, he was referring to the asshole. I said “Oh REALLY? HIM? …. Umm…What, EXACTLY did he do to land himself in prison?”I asked. Mistaking my question for an interest in him and his dreary sex life, he began “Well, the date wasn’t much fun, and He wasn’t much interested in me or anything and….”WHAT. . .  WAS . . .  HE. . . CONVICTED . . .  FOR??? I shouted. You see by now, I realised that this asshole may just have become a murderous asshole, and I had to know RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

“Oh, I think it was drugs or something” Terrence* said, before plunging himself and me once more into a blood drying, bone powderingly boring account of his dreary life.

So that’s it. I’ve made enemies with a belligerent, felonious, ex-convict…asshole. Yay.

On a far cooler note, I met up yesterday with the legendary Moby.We met for lunch in the castro, and I have to say it’s quite true, he DOES have a motor mouth and he also is MUCH handsomer in real life. In particular, his photos just don’t give his eyes justice, I have to say. It’s hard to take your eyes off of them, they’re like hallmark store  paperweights or something.  Anyway, he holds conversation as well as he blogs, so you can imagine, it was an interesting time.  Oh and I got to feel the bionic metallic structure in his shoulder from his recent accident. It felt kinda cool. His DNA tatt is awesome in real life, too.

So I have to say that there truly is no place quite like the Castro. I mean, where else are you going to see – on a Saturday morning no less – a guy walking down the street bare ass naked except for a pair of riding chaps and boots? I mean, where is he going? To the dentist? Grocery shopping?

I do miss Sunday mornings with Jay Leno. He can always be found, tooling around Van Nuys, North Hollywood and Burbank in one of his many insanely cool antique cars. Can’t say I miss much else about LA, though.  I do indeed very much miss the Eagle and all of the great guys there, though. That crowd is hard to beat, and they are very much missed.


*not his real name

tail in the city

So I wrote something really (quite unintentionally) misleading in my last post, and I want to correct it now, and tell what really happened.

Here’s the botched line:

Later, I have more to tell, including how I almost got thrown out of the LoneStar on Saturday night for punching a belligerent Bear’s face in.

OK,  it really should have read thusly:

Later, I have more to tell, including how I almost punched a boorish assholes face in at the Lonestar for being a totally unacceptable rude shithead. I’m sure if I had, I certainly would have been thrown out. Film at 11.

So I can’t write. So sue me. Or call me Sue.

What happened was I was at the Lonely stare, or the Loin Scare, or the Lone Star- whatever you call it. It was about 11pm or so, and I was out in the back patio, you know..where the cigar,cigarette AND PIPE SMOKERS GO. ..And I was just smoking my pipe, minding my business, eavesdropping on other’s business, and basically generally trying to get some touch. In other words, just doing the routine I’ve done a million and ten times before, all over the world, including at the lone star itself, back in the day. So I go to stand over near this wall, and there ae 3 bears standing there. One is about my build, bald with a sandy brown beard. typical generic bear. His BF was a cute cub type. The type that usually falls all over himself to cruise me. So I stand there and the bald one says “Hey, get outta here. That fuckin thing stinks. Go somewhere else.”

OK, I have to admit, I was totally gobsmacked. NEVER in all the 20-odd years that I’ve smoked a pipe, in bear bars (hell-in ALL bars) all over the planet has anyone EVER … E V E R reacted like that to pipe smoke. In fact, I’d estimate that the number of times guys have gone out of their way to tell me variations of “that smells reminds me of my Uncle/Father/Brother/Au Pair/pet iguana….because they smoke a pipe, too”-ad nauseum ad infinitum, is somewhere up in the mid jillions. Really. So yeah, I was totally shocked. Not just that, but how loud and abrupt and…mean he was about it. I stared at him wondering for a millisecond if he was kidding. The scowl on their faces told me instantly that they were indeed not joking and that I was as welcome in their presence as a cocksucker in a convent.

So…I said “ok” and left, with my tail between my legs. I mean, I’m usually pretty quick with a clever response, but #1 I was out of my element, in an unfriendly city with my circle of support 400 miles away, and #2 I was, as I said, stunned.

So I went over to Blow Buddies- the nearby sex club- and found the company to be 100 times friendlier. Hotter too, by far. MY tail wasn’t between my legs there. lots of other guys were…but not mine.

San Francisco


Overheard at Starbuck’s in the Castro @1:12 pm, Saturday, 18 April, in the year of our Lord’s grace, 2009:

“Attitude at Lazybear nowadays is so extreme, I swear all the A listers do is just stand and pose and worry that their tits are hard. I mean, I dont CARE if my tits are hard, or soft, or I don’t even know  WHAT they are, but they’re MY tits”

Okay so anyway, yesterday, it was the 103rd anniversary of the great 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire. I went to the Castro to catch a Saturday afternoon matinee of “San Francisco” ( 1935 MGM D- W.S.Van Dyke  W- Anita Loos DP- Oliver T Marsh) and it was for me personally one of the best moments of 2009 (which isn’t really saying much, since 2009 has so far generally been awful) It was amazing because The Castro Theatre, more than anywhere else in my life, has been the most important to me as a film freak. My best memories are of sitting in that theatre on a hundred Saturday afternoons, Learning a love of cinema with Hitchcock, Bogart, Hepburn (Both of them), Spence, Gable, Bette Davis AND that Crawford woman. So being there, as Jeanette MacDonald sang those lyrics which for me, at this time of all times, is especially poignant, moved me to tears.

” San Francisco, open your golden gate

You’ll let nobody wait outside your door

San Francisco, here is your wanderin’ one

Sayin’ he’ll wander no more


Other places only make me make me love you best

Tell me you’re the one in all the golden west

San Francisco, I’m coming home again

Never to roam again”


Later, I have more to tell, including how I almost got thrown out of the LoneStar on Saturday night for punching a belligerent Bear’s face in.

I’m off to Tahoe till Tuesday. till then..

BACK to the future (or, The Beginning of the Longest Thanksgiving Weekend of my life)

Well, I’m back online finally, and the move went successfully.

I took the kitties and my delicate items up the Thursday before last in my car. Then I left the car in San Jose and used a free train pass and took AMTRAK back down to L.A. to fetch the moving van and all of my stuff. Then, I hauled it all back up here to San Jose and left most of it in Public Storage. My DVD’s and computer desk, etc are here.

Here’s a pic of the Bug at a rest stop in beautiful, Buttonwillow. Both of the kitties were extremely well behaved on the trip up. After about an hour, I forgot that they were back there, they were so quiet. Wally’s kennel is right alongside the Bugs, so it’s out of view in this pic.      bug   Here are a few snaps from the window of the train, mostly passing thru the Salinas Valley (Below)tt3This is in the Santa Lucia Mountains, near Point Conception.tt9 



This is the Salinas station. Steinbeck country.tt11

The people on the train, by and large, were absolute morons. Why would you leave your seat in the coach car, drag your ass all the way up to the viewing car, just to block the view with your 25 inch laptop screen and bury your pimply nose in a goddamned video game? The most gorgeous scenery in the west, and these dumb assbite kids just can’t be bothered. They’ll all grow up to be dumbfuck morons with no idea where they are or what planet they’re on.

Probably will all vote republican.


Speaking of republicans, I’m now safely arrived in Stepford. …or as it appears on the map, San Jose, California. The lovely place where I was born and raised.

The other day, in this creepy neighborhood of acre sizes front lawns, where everyone has a squad of illegal alien gardeners landscaping 24/7 and porsches in every driveway, I actually saw a little blond girl and her tow headed brother Bobby Brady riding by on bananna seat schwinn Bicycles. The little Jan Brady girl actually had tassles and a pink basket on hers. No kidding. She said “wheeee Bobby, this is grand fun!” and she rang her handlebar bell “briinggg – jiiing”  Little Bobby replied “Gosh Sis, let’s go have some Ovaltine!” and off they went, leaving me to hiss like a strangling snake in the shadows. I think even the Bug was rolling his eyes.

O urban life, where for art thou?

Here’s a snap I took of the local McDonalds.  The same one where I used to go with my family on Friday nights at 7pm, just before the “Brady Bunch” came on.

Later, we’d hang out here after movies.

It STILL looks the same. Must be the last on that still looks like this in America. And I can tell you folks personally that it’s NOT a retrofit job. It’s the real deal.  


Ronald McDonald, Please pray for me.

Moving Day

Well tomorrow I pack up the kitties and all of my delicate items (models, computer, stereo) that I don’t want on the moving truck and make the journey up north to San Jose. Then I’ll leave the car at my parents house and take the train back down to LA on Sunday. I won a  free Amtrak ticket, and I want to use it up before it expires in April. Monday I’ll get the rental van , load up, close the Apartment up and, after over 8 years of residence, leave this place forever. The kitties will be watched by my Brother Jim, and they’ll have the smoothest transfer that I can possibly give them.

I’ll be out of computer reach for about a week. Until then…


Happy trails to you all.


Friday, March 27, 2009

Van Nuys, California