Can I just say how much I adore my mother? I was extremely right about her wringing her hands, wondering what my hair colour is this year for the holidays.She sends me the cutest email. Cute, because she starts off with how much fun she is having baking and getting ready for Thanksgiving, and then casually slips in there that she hopes my hair isn't dyed an obnoxious colour because last year it bled all over the pillowcases. Precious...just precious...this is my mother after all!
I emailed her and reassured her that my head has been freshly shaved and I look as "normal" as she will ever hope to see me. Then, just because I knew it would bite her 'just so', I told her about the new tats I got. I haven't gotten an email back from her yet, but I would have loved to have seen her eyes bug out of her head, just knowing that I went under the needle again and got those 2 new tats on my forearms. I warned her that she will see them when I arrive, but I will be wearing a long sleeved shirt on Thanksgiving, so I don't send my already ancient Great Aunt and Grandmother to their marble decorated family crypts, just waiting for a date to be etched in for the death.
Like I said, I get an extreme child-like excitement over getting my mother in a tizzy. This is me after all we're reading about. I think that the so called "negative" attention that those stupid therapists all discuss on Montel and Dr. Phil seem to crow about when little kids do to get attention that it counts as positive because it is attention in any form that they are seeking. Seriously, if that old and neurotic German woman didn't bat an eye or give some sort of reaction to something I have pierced, inked or wore, I'm sure I'd get an erection over a polo shirt. But since we live in an imperfect world, though one where I can gauge a reaction in people...I guess I have no complaints. You know me, life isn't exciting for me unless I fuck with people, much less my family on a daily basis. It makes the days much more entertaining for me and gets time moving much faster.
Nonetheless, I love my mother. Sometimes I think that mothers, just have the most genius comic timing that no one can top. I guess it has to do with age, but I came from my mother's womb and under the same birth sigh: Sagittarius. As uptight as she can sometimes be, I would be a fool to not appreciate her humour. There is something about Sagittarius people (Liz, can I get an "amen" here?) and our emotions, not to mention the wit.
I wonder who I'll be irritating tonight? I don't see anything on my calender, so I'll probably have a few "drop in's" and "spontaneous counter-attacks" happening. Good, at least I'll feel like I accomplished something today, so my therapist would be proud. Though I am sure sending my neighbour's into some sort of panic attack doesn't count, but if it makes me feel better then I would say that my therapist has earned their paycheck.
So tomorrow is going to be busy busy, in that I have to do laundry and pack. I might as well, just do laundry at my mother's house, the laundry rooms have been packed all day today in my building. I'll be wearing Armani for Thanksgiving. I bought an Armani shirt on clearance a couple of years ago at Saks, and it's just a basic button down black but it is tailored awfully nice and like Patsy on Ab-Fab once said "Black is like totally in, so you not need to wear it just the once..." and I am inclined to agree.
The train ride should be entertaining, as I am sure it will be packed like it always is. Last year I got into a tiff with a middle aged twat who was "saving" the seat I was assigned to for someone in her family, and I said that I was told to sit there by the conductor and she said I couldn't. So, me being me, I put on my bitchiest smile, sat down, kicked one leg over the other rather and fluffed my pea coat and looked at her with a "Is that all you got, bitch?" look. I made sure she caught me glaring at her numerous times for the entire 2 hours I sat directly across from her. Childish I know, but times like that give me an almost psychotic happiness.
This time will be different as I will have a "child" (Lily) with me. Who likes being on the train anyways because of all the new people she gets to charm. I'm giving her a bath tomorrow so she'll be all sleek and combed out when she boards.
This weekend was a faggy weekend if I ever had one. Then getting that funny email from my mother tops my whole "Mommie" weekend. How did I accomplish this? I decided to make it a Joan Crawford weekend, and watch 1 movie of hers that have already seen, along with 3 I hadn't. So, I'll give you a rundown and my opinion.
First off, anyone who knows me KNOWS I love la Crawford. Any gay man worth his weight in wire hangers, knows that being a fag involves a lot more than anal sex. In fact, a requirement that I have held onto since my teens, is that if we're going to be an item you MUST love to watch old black and white movies. Seriously, that was a dame with presence I tell ya!
Despite her reputation that I think was tarnished by her daughter, I have always found Crawford fascinating because she was always Joan Crawford. I have never really thought of her as a great actress but she was proof of that saying "The camera loved her." and it is true. This period of films I got to see of her, were all from when she moved to Warner Brothers after leaving MGM and she got to choose her scripts and material, directors, costars, and she invented eyebrows that rivaled her Adrian costumed shoulder pads. There always was a Crawford uniform, whenever she is on screen and she is of any income level: shoulder pads, and ankle strapped shoes. This is a woman who meant business. But also, like Bette Davis she went through a period in the 1940's where she made some brilliant and under rated films.
Let's start with her Oscar winning film "Mildred Pierce", which I have only seen once before. This is also the only Oscar she ever won and the first nomination.
This was considered her comeback, after moving to a new studio and though still signed to Warner's, in 1945 and she had herself taken off payroll until she found a script that she new would win her respect as an actress. It was a role that was wanted for her rival at the studio, Bette Davis was signed to another picture and Joan expressed interest but was refused. Then she offered and did something that was unheard of, for an actress of her popularity: she took a screen test.
The irony cannot be lost of her playing the role to of a mother sacrificing everything and doing everything to make her spoiled daughter (played by a perfect and beautiful Ann Blythe) Veda happy. But does everything include murder? She earned that Oscar.
Well done, if not a bit soapy at times though I like her better than Lana Turner in "Peyton Place".
Then we have a film about obsession and mental illness "Possessed" (which made in 1947, shares the same title with an earlier film she made in the early 1930's, when the title implied that she was a 'kept woman' in a secret romance with a politician) which I have to say I was pretty stunned by her performance of a person in a schizophrenic state and a murder. This rates up there with Joanne Woodward in "Three Faces of Eve" and Elizabeth Taylor in "Suddenly, Last Summer" considering the era and times in which mental illness was being discussed. I was impressed at her performance of a schizophrenic. Again, not something I associate with her usual fare. To say that this also couldn't have been made with an actress like Bette Davis, is true. Joan was brilliant and got another Oscar nomination.
"Humoresque" was fabulous about her obsession with a violin player and her being a wealthy socialite. I was in a dream state during that whole thing, because every time the thuggish and dreamy looking John Garfield came onscreen as her love interest, I got horny. All I can say is that she did a good job in the film, you GOTTA see it, and that I got hard whenever I saw Johnny! Plus she kills herself, by walking into the ocean in a long sequined dress (the way it should be) and drowning. Oh, and did I mention how sexy John Garfield is in scenes of this movie? I wouldn't have kicked him outta bed for eating crackers!
Then, I get to see her as a gangster's moll in "The Damned Don't Cry", which I have to say she also did a wonderful job in, but I think by this point she may have been pushing it a LITTLE but in her age as it was made in 1950. By this point, her fur coats rival the shoulders of a linebacker but hey, it was chinchilla and I hate to say it, but I LOVE chinchilla coats. Mildly a formula picture, and seeing her go from poverty into a "modeling" career and then securing the top job and a big house and then tragedy strikes and she has to run away from "the business"...well, of course I too have dreams and ambitions, so I'm enjoying it all along with her and rooting for her the whole time. Perfect fag film.
I think next week, I'm going to dive into and watch 5 Bette Davis flicks that I have never seen that have only recently been released restored on DVD. This should be fun.
Anywhoo, I'll be blogging a lot while at my Mom's house. I'll be taking pictures. It's going to be a trip! I hope you all have a wonderful and safe Thanksgiving holiday and I wanna hear ALL about the "black Friday" shopping deals that you all braved the day after.
Hugs and kisses ya all!


















