hunted by the american dream

2004-08-04T14:14:00.000-05:00

Jon isn't all that busy. Sure, he's not sitting at home watching Dr. 90210 or something, but still, he need not ignore us so. From a email he sent early today:

I woke up at 1 PM (awesome).
I went down the street to get coffee (awesome).
I read outside for a couple of hours (again, awesome).
I read from Miami and Salvador by Joan Didion (awesome).
I cleaned (not quite awesome, but left feeling v. accomplished).
I went down to Old Town to see a movie (awesome).
I went by myself because Joe and Christopher never called me back (slightly less than awesome).
I saw A Home at the End of the World (awesome, not as good as the book, slightly depressing).
I got on the train to head to Hyde Park for dinner (awesome).
I got a message from Christopher saying there is no dinner because they are fighting (rapidly descending into depression, given my fragile emotional state post-movie and resulting need to be around people I love).
I got a message from Chris saying we're having dinner at his house (awesome, coming back up).
I thought how smart I was just to get on the train (awesome).
I called Chris to tell him I was on my way, left message (awesome).
I receive call from Chris while already in the Loop and he says no dinner (rapid spiral back into depression).
I ride the train back around the circle of the Loop and up to my stop (depression continues).
I go sit at the lake and read and have a drink (awesome, sort of...)
I call my Mom (not helping the depression).
I try, unsuccessfully, to convince my Mom to vote for Kerry because the president hates her son's people (rage/depression).
I go to bar, drink with straight male friends (much, much better).

2004-08-02T11:42:00.000-05:00

So Jon has disappeared on us.

The other day he and I were emailing when I jokingly requested he give to me his username and password. He has apparently forgotten this blog's existence; I've decided to rectify this most disappointing neglect.

So here I am. Ironic, really, since I rarely update my own blog.

Anyway, an update that most of Mr. Quinn's readers probably need not: Jon's moved. Jon's gainfully employed. Jon's still fabulous, and he's still playing some form of Russian Roulette with his liver.

And since it's something of a leit-motif here at HBTAD: Holy Shit!

Just for good measure, you know.

2004-05-26T21:34:00.000-05:00

Things are crazy.

I move on Saturday.

I haven't slept much.

Work is good. Intense and a little confusing, but good.

If you want my new contact information, email me.

Sorry I can't write more. Might not be able to write for awhile.

2004-05-21T00:17:00.000-05:00

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Jesus H. Christ.

I got it. I got the job.

I start Monday.

Fuck.

2004-05-19T22:08:00.000-05:00

Holy shit, I'm posting again.

I don't know that I have much to say, though. What I went up to the museum for turned out to be a second round interview, which wasn't entirely clear to me until it was practically over. The first question out of Peter's mouth: "Why is art important to you?" Gar. I kind of felt a little ambushed. But hey, at least I made it to the second round, right? The last guy who had this job had an MFA. Right? Right? Eh.

Suffice it to say, this has put me in a sufficiently shitty/pissy mood that my normal ability to function has been severely compromised. This morning I was planning on waking up at 8:30 and going to Admissions and talking to Ted about possibilities for me in Admissions (here, at NU, at DePaul), but I couldn't wake up until 11. As I was walking into the Reynolds Club, someone that I know was sitting at the Senior Class Gift table and said, "Hey, Jon..." in a sing-song like, "come over here and give us some money" kind of way. I said, very abruptly, and I didn't know if it was possible for me to be this mean, "No. Don't talk to me. Don't even ask. I'm NOT giving you money. Not now. Don't bother me," walked past her, and went upstairs. I saw her later and apologized for being so mean to her and told her that I was simply in a bad mood this morning. She asked if I had something against her or against the Senior Class Gift and I said no and then backtracked and said, "Yes, actually, I have A LOT against the senior class gift, but that's neither here nor there."

Anyway.

Had a cry last night before I fell asleep. It only took me an hour and a half to fall asleep last night, which is good. My average is about two.

Fuck. I shouldn't be this down, but I can't quite help it.

I applied for two jobs today. One at Steppenwolf working as an assistant to the Publicity Director, and one as a middle school Humanities teacher at a private school in Spanish Harlem in NYC.

Oh, fuck.

2004-05-17T21:13:00.000-05:00

Whoa. It's been awhile since I've updated.

Apologies.

And further apologies: this may be a tear-stained entry. I've been looking at pictures of gay weddings in Massachusetts that have been happening all day. George is out there interviewing people for his upcoming book on gay marriage. He may actually get to go to the Goodridge's wedding. Big boss vented a considerable amount of frustration today, asking why we would want to participate in an institution that's so obviously broken (about which I KIND of agree with her). But you can't deny that people want to. And it's so beautiful that they can.

But fuck it! No crying! We can GET MARRIED! HOLY SHIT WHO WOULD HAVE EVER THOUGHT THIS POSSIBLE?

So, as to why I didn't update: there was the trip to Florida, where I found out that my dog died and my mother continued to drill into my head that my grandmother is going to. Then there was my exam (cf previous ranting, delusional posts that make no sense). I've been really busy since then trying to catch up on work, getting an apartment, and panicking about job stuff. Seriously. The waiting has gotten so bad that I can't focus and that I'm having trouble falling asleep.

The good news is that I found a place to live. It's on Wellington and Sheridan, for those of you who know Chicago. A little further south and east than I wanted, but it's not in Hyde Park and it's a HUGE studio.

The other sort of good news is that I may have a job as of tomorrow. I received a call from Peter at the MCA and he asked me to come in and speak with him and the Director of Administration (sort of like the Chief Operating Office of the place) tomorrow at 3. So I may have good news.

Links:
No need for an article link. Check out The Globe for details about gay marriage.

Danielle Allen on Brown v. Board. 50 Years today!

Check out the newest from the folks at Gothamist: Chicagoist, edited by my friend Margaret.

2004-05-10T03:20:00.000-05:00

Marauding band of drag queens steals luxury cars.

2004-05-10T02:59:00.000-05:00

Fo shizzle. It's 3 AM, I have approximately 13.75 hours until my exam is due, and I've complete drafts of both questions. I've edited the first draft, but haven't yet applied those edits. I think I'm going to edit the other one tomorrow morning, apply both sets of edits, and call it quitzzz, Aimee Mann-style.

Apologies to sane readers out there: this is about the time of night/caffeination when things get a little crazy.

As if we needed more proof that people at this school were a little funked-up: during the middle of the light drizzle that accompanied a really fucking cool lightning storm, three or four kids were outside doing a rain dance. Yes, that's right. They were in Bartlett Quad (Bartyard for short), flailing their arms about and yelling rain at each other and passers-by.

Fo shizzle, indeed.

2004-05-09T15:42:00.000-05:00

At the Reg. Working on my exam. Am on page 3 of 7-10 of my second paper. Must edit afterwards. Gar.

2004-05-02T19:59:00.000-05:00

Greetings from Florida. Today I walked on the beach, barefoot. And watched the cruiseliners leave Port Canaveral. And, when two helicopters flew by overhead on their way to Patrick Air Force Base, heard a man say, "Hear that sound? That's the sound of freedom."

Fuck. As long as I stay protected by my parents, no one will kill me for being a big fag. But if I go out alone, who knows what might happen?

2004-04-24T16:41:00.000-05:00

Hey bitches. If y'alls in Hyde Park tonight, stop by my place for my birthday party. A hot Spanish man will be present.

In the meanwhile, John Kerry is a douche bag, but I'm voting for him anyway. Thanks, Wonkette.

2004-04-21T17:51:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I'm totally in love with Kill Bill. Fucking Daryl Hannah! She alone is really enough for me to fall completely in love with the movies.

Sara and I made burgers at her place on Sunday night, after which the boys and I watched Volume 1. When the movie ended, and 2 AM rolled around, I wanted to see Volume 2 IMMEDIATELY. I went yesterday afternoon to watch it. No one was free, so I went by myself, which was actually kind of fun. Then I met Eric and we headed further north to see Air at the Riviera. They played a good show - it was short (about an hour), but they played the good stuff from the new album and some of the big "hits" from their previous three albums. When the show ended I was almost shocked - they didn't spend three hours playing like my husband did. The shorter one is cute, and has a really nice ass, actually. SO MUCH BACKLIGHT, too. They must have enjoyed looking at us while they played.

So I walked around campus for part of the day whistling like Daryl Hannah does, just to see the looks I'll get from people.

Oh my...the Astralwerks site has a track by track VIDEO interview with the Air boys.

Claire said that I look like I'm in kind of a bad mood. Aside from being sick, I'm just worried about getting a job and an apartment. And my CD player broke. But seriously. I have now called and emailed Peter about setting up an interview, especially because I'll be going out of town next week, but I haven't heard a thing. Anyway,

She's so totally wrong.

Downstate twisters.

2004-04-14T19:43:00.000-05:00

Oh, I guess I should post, but I don't have that much I care to write about. Tonight is my feature film debut, which Fire Escape produced, and they're calling it "It's not Elimidate: so don't sue us."

Monday and Tuesday were really big prospie days. I was very, very exhausted.

On Saturday night my shower decided to start vomiting up dirt from the drain. It still has not been fixed.

The last minute or so of Sondre Lerche's "Maybe You're Gone" are absolutely beautiful.

I looked at a great studio apartment yesterday.

When Christopher, Chris, Joe, Austin and I write our play Sweatshop!: The Musical it has to feature a scene where one of the characters jumps from a CTA walkover onto a train that's passing by underneath.

And I'm fascinated by Michael Andrews' cover of Tears for Fears' "Mad World."

Miu showed me the way of Frederic Michalak.

2004-04-11T16:55:00.000-05:00

Happy Easter, everyone! I thought about going to Mass today, actually.

I don't have that much to report...earlier today the boys and I had French toast with berries and Marscapone. So, sooooo good. Last night my roommates and I had dinner with them and then we showed them some of a Bel Ami Personal Trainers video which featured a double penetration, which was really hot.

I've been reading Queer Street somewhat obsessively since I got back from New York City, and it's really, really good. I definitely recommend it. The first part was especially entertaining - thinking about his adolescence, he looks at gay life through the eyes of various movies, like Magnificent Obsession and All About Eve. Something else I found interesting: the extensive exploration of the gay subculture of the 1950s, which was, as I knew, very active. All of the voices he "records" bemoan their closeted, depressed, homosexual state, but still continue to participate actively in that culture, and to adopt it into their lives.

Choose your own savior.
Memo, August 6, 2001
1, 2, 3, 4, Anne Applebaum declares culture war!

2004-04-09T17:56:00.000-05:00

Still no further news on the job front. In the meantime, though, I have made an appointment to look at an apartment up in Boystown for Tuesday. Christopher's going to come with me, I think. Creepily, though, the building where I'm looking is on the same block where a man was found murdered a few weeks ago.

Yesterday I woke up at two. As in two in the afternoon. It was pretty awesome, actually. My roommates have been calling me a lazy ass and giving me all kinds of shit for being so lazy lately, but I feel kind of like it's okay. I worked really hard in college, and I worked really hard in high school. It is, I think, about time for my arrival. I should be able to sit at home all day and let the highlights of my day be reading Queer Street and then watching The Simpsons and Will & Grace, cheeseball that I am.

So, what do we think: Is she? Or isn't she? (a lesbian, that is)

I just looked to see if Lynne Cheney's lesbian novel was in the stacks at our library, but it turns out that it isn't. Sad. But, along the same lines, Where is Mary Cheney?

It kind of bothers me that the whole situation in Massachusetts got so much attention and then quickly fizzled out. I mean, the compromise amendment passed, people! Hello!

Tomorrow night I'm going to take my South African roommate to her first gay bar. Because, as she said to me, "gay people don't exist where I'm from."

I'm running out of things to say, so I'm going to go back to reading.

Eurabia?
Dan Savage gets married.

I should also study for my exam that's coming up in a month. Woops.

2004-04-06T17:26:00.000-05:00

Sorry it's been so long. Not being a student is, frankly, awesome. I went out last night with my roommates and, since I didn't feel like waking up this morning, didn't. Until noon. And so far today I have applied for two jobs and am about to apply for a third. I'm at work, too. So yeah, I'm a tres productive member of society.

My pictures from New York are in. They're pretty good, and I'll try to post some of them soon.

Hos!
I AM MY OWN WIFE wins the 2004 Pulitzer for Drama.

2004-04-01T19:34:00.000-06:00

Okay, oh my God, you totally need to stop yelling at me. I've been busy. I woke up on Monday morning, after getting drunk and watching porn with the boys to celebrate our return, and thought, "what DO I want to do today?" And then I realized that I actually have a lot to do. My quarter of fun is going to be a little less slackerish than I thought.

Last night I participated in "Eliminate your Date," a sort-of rip off of Elimidate (all right reserved, of course) for the University's Global AIDS Campaign. Fire Escape, the film group on campus, filmed it, and it will be screened two weeks from yesterday - so if you're interested in seeing my feature film debut, come on down to Hyde Park. My old roommate Claire did it and wanted to do a whole mix of them, and mine was the gay group. I got Joe, Christopher, and Austin to do it, and Claire asked Laura to be in the group as well - the caveat being that I had to pick Laura. So Christopher became Stephan (pronounced "Schteffen" with an accompanying foot stamp), Joe became raver DJ Sparkle Prince, Austin became Dallas from Dallas, and Laura became Laquanda DiMaggio Smith-Wesson (like the gun and the oil). It was quite a riot, we were all a little tipsy from the drinks we had beforehand, Joe went down on an eggroll, Christopher kept talking about fisting, Laura and I made out twice, and I am apparently pregnant with her child, who we're choosing to call Tacquese.

The trip was pretty amazing for the rest of the time I was there. Over two beers on an empty stomach at a Chinese restaurant called Pig Heaven on the Upper East Side last Tuesday, I actually thought about not coming back. BTW, I'm totally becoming an Upper East Side princess when I move to the city. On Sunday night I went out to my crazy aunt's and uncle's place on Long Island with all the boys for dinner. We left late and we got lost, so we arrived there really late. But, despite their craziness, they were very hospitable. Note to self: only ever take train when leaving Manhattan. Further note to self: do not leave Manhattan. That night we stayed in Montclair, New Jersey at Christopher's aunt's place. We woke up late on Monday and then made breakfast while listening to WNYC. Well, actually, Princess Chris slept while Joe and Christopher made French toast and I continually refilled coffee mugs. Then we split up - Chris and I went into the city, dropped our stuff off with Deborah and met Sophie for dinner in Chelsea and drinks at this lovely bar called the Cubby Hole on the border of the Village and Chelsea. On Tuesday I did some reading in Central Park, saw the Chuck Close at the Met, and we tried to take in a show - but TKTS tickets to see Bernadette in Gypsy were a little expensive for being half-price. Since it was Chris's last night in town, after the awesome Chinese dinner and Queer Eye at Deborah's, we took him out dancing at Splash Bar, where we saw LIVE RIMMING! Yes, that's right, one of the go-go boys went right down and started licking it up on one of the other go-go boys. Afterwards we went to the Donut Pub (the Donut Pub! How cool is that?) so that Christopher and I could sober up. Wednesday we ate at H&H and then I took Chris to the airport and then roamed the Upper West Side. I met back up with Joe and Christopher and we went up to Washington Heights and had Indian dinner with Sophie and David (yes, THAT David from the last time I was in NYC). Thursday morning, after a fight and a makeup, Joe and Christopher and I went down to Herald Square to meet his Aunt Ann Marie for lunch. She walked us around her office and introduced us to everyone, but called us all Christopher's "friends." Even though she knows and is fine and supportive about Joe and Christopher. Then we went to lunch at a French place called La Belle Vie in Chelsea and the first thing she asks us is, "So, of all the men that I work with, that I introduced you to, who's gay?" And we just said, at the same time, "All of them except the guy who was on Queer Eye and the one who's having a baby!" After lunch we got coffee from the Big Cup (of COURSE we have to see all the gay sites), Joe and Christopher shopped while I watched, we friend-broke up with Mark in Times Square, had a great time at teany, and ate dinner at the Three of Cups, a Sicilian restaurant on the Lower East Side. Then we went back up to Washington Heights, where I stayed while the boys went out to Jersey. On Friday morning I returned a book, bought coffee from Fairway (two pounds for $11!), dropped David's keys off to him at Christie's, and took the PATH into Jersey City, where I was to meet the boys for lunch with Christopher's French grandmother. I said good-bye to Manhattan while looking on the downtown skyline from the PATH station, smoking a cigarette, and reading James Baldwin.

Then we drove to Buffalo and spent a couple of nights there with Joe's family. Then we came home.

One speeding ticket + one burgled apartment + two jobs lost - one friend + extensive liver damage + no money = We're in for a karmic turnaround.

He owes me one. But he knows.

R.I.P, Karl Weintraub.

2004-03-21T23:37:00.000-06:00

Holy shit, again. I fucking love NYC. Last night he and I hit the East Village and went to Phoenix and The Cock, where we could smoke inside, saw two men jacking each other off, and watched the dancer stroke his very own cock while people touched it. Did we pay him to do the same? Maybe. Just maybe.

2004-03-18T19:06:00.000-06:00

Holy shit! Thanks, Wonkette.

2004-03-18T18:40:00.000-06:00

Holy shit. In 24 hours I'll be on the road, probably somewhere in Ohio. We'll go to the gym at the hotel as soon as we get into Pittsburgh.

I turned my exam for Hell in today. I keep trying to tell myself that it is NOT OKAY if I try to work on my div school paper when I get back, even though JBE said it wouldn't be a huge deal as long as we didn't mind a blank spot next to our grade.

On Saturday I'll be meeting Ryan in NYC, who's coming down from Boston. We're going to tear up the town (and probably our livers, too, given our track record).

I am very excited to take a shower that counts.

Okay, this will probably be the last time that I post before I don't know when. I'll try to post in NYC to give some kind of update, but I'll be bouncing around a lot, so I can't be sure.

2004-03-17T18:09:00.000-06:00

Are you as excited as I am to see the new Mandy Moore movie, Saved? Well, you should be. The trailer includes a scene where Ms. Moore hurls a Bible at one of her fellow actors (which connects with the girl's neck) and screams, "I am FILLED with the love of Christ!"

2004-03-17T17:49:00.000-06:00

Go Barack!

But, along those same lines, how is it that Illinois ended up with a Senatorial contest between two political hotties?

SEEN LAST NIGHT: On the 5600 block of Blackstone Avenue in Chicago, Illinois, an overturned vehicle. Yes, that's right. It did not look as if it had been in an accident, it was just upside down, running west-east across the street, on its roof with its nose pointing to the ground. It was a black SUV, I think, and it looked kind of like it was spinning like a top.

The Chauncey exam is done. Off to the Enlightenment take-home exam and then my div-school paper, which I will hopefully finish before we leave on Friday. Speaking of which: on Friday, I will officially be a registered student in good standing at The University of Chicago. Friday is also technically my last day of school, since I'm taking a leave of absence next quarter. I have my "leave of absence appointment" then. Way to be on the ball with that shit.

And then Friday afternoon we leave for the trip. We're stopping over in Pittsburgh to stay at the Omni William Penn and then we'll be in NYC on Saturday night. I got a haircut done by some friends to prepare. Oh, yes. But definitely. I am so fucking ready to be there.

2004-03-16T15:03:00.000-06:00

What I'm doing right now:

Although the spread of prosperity, home ownership, and stable employment in the postwar period was supposed to have erased class stratification and to have produced a homogenous middle-class society, class differences continued to be manifest in - and accentuated through - differences in and debates over taste, housing, attitudes toward white-collar work, and the war in Vietnam. Taking two of these debates, discuss the ways in which people talked about class through talking about those issues and, in general, analyze how, why, and to what extent class was linked to cultural differences and political debates. Be sure to explore change over time. You should refer to at least three readings and at least one film.

2004-03-15T17:39:00.000-06:00

Haha! I said I was going on blogging silence, but I LIED. FOOLED YOU, motherfuckers.

Anyway, it was mostly because I'm at work, a little bored, want to procrastinate, and had to share the following news stories with everyone:
Britney to start her own cosmetics line. This girl is like, oh my God, so talented!
From Variety (you have to pay) Oh my God! Gay people are involved in Broadway shows!

I love being a Democrat in Chicago. They want you to vote so very very bad that there's a website that told me today where I'm supposed to go vote tomorrow and that I'm eligible to do so. Go Barack!

I finished writing my paper for Lilla, and mailed it today. There is no longer any reason for me to speak to him for the rest of my (and his) life. Woohoo! Only three more things to go and I am DONE with classes and will be off to NYC on Friday!

2004-03-13T17:28:00.000-06:00

Actually, we're planning on keeping the place when I move in.

Heehee.

I'm going on blogging silence until finals are over. And who knows if I'll be able to post once I'm in NYC? Again, if you're reading this and want to be my museum date, email me!

2004-03-11T20:57:00.000-06:00

On the "Senior Night at the Pub" mugs...
The University of Chicago: where pretension and debauchery are not mutually exclusive

Sign of my celebrity (get over yourself! --ed.):
Upon leaving Bar Night last night at one of our fine fraternities, I heard someone say, "Jon Ryan Quinn!?!? At Bar Night?!?!?"

Finals week looms.

2004-03-10T18:10:00.000-06:00

Whew! Trying to get a job is really hard and confusing.

I actually called my parents and asked them for advice, something that I have not done in - well, that I have not done. At least not since I moved to college. It was actually really nice. I had to talk to someone about it, and I can't really talk to people here about it because it's kind of a sensitive issue, so I thought, "well, I go call my parents." And I talked to my dad and he gave me some good advice.

And I am trying not to freak out.

But the advice he gave me is really good and will help me in the non-freaking out side of things.

One of his pieces of advice led me to decide that I'm (probably) going to take a leave of absence next quarter.

Links:
Just as an FYI: Chi Chi La Rue's website is so totally not safe for work. Be advised.

Did you know that Chi Chi has directed 98 movies since 1989?

Academics are SO overworked!

2004-03-09T17:54:00.000-06:00

The last of the wit and wisdom of Jean Bethke Elshtain:
"Hitler was a vegetarian so you were supposed to get people to eat crunchy granola all the time."
"I think dehumanization is, finally, kind of dull."
On humans in the Rousseauian state of nature: "If they're hungry, they go munch on some berries."

Hi all. It's tenth week at the U of C, also known as the penultimate level of Hell. Finals week being THE ultimate level of Hell. Today was my last day of classes for the quarter - and quite possibly my last day of classes ever. And it was a slightly anticlimactic day. I ran into one of my bosses from the summer at the Performance Studies conference that I helped David with over the weekend. I told her that I was applying for the job at the MCA and she was so excited. She promised to talk to Greg on Monday (yesterday) and she said that I would be perfect for the job. And one of my spies in the Administration department told me that they just finished sorting through all the apps and would be contacting people soon. If I get the job, I would take a leave of absence from classes for next quarter, quit all of my jobs, and go to work full time. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it's a little too late.

Today was "Senior Apprecation Day" at the Einstein Brothers' Bagels on campus. Which, of course, was sponsored by the people who are running the Senior Class Gift Fund. It was a fundraiser under the guise of a free bagel and coffee. Anyway, I go up to the desk to get my ticket for my free stuff, and am asked if I've given to the fund. I say no, and the girl behind the table asks if I will. "I guess," I say, and then my friend Anju (who's on the committee) walks up behind me to pick up her ticket and says, "Hey, Jon, don't forget to give to the Senior Class Gift." I say, "Hey, Anju. I'm thinking about it. But I've got to be honest with you. This school has seriously dicked me over for the past four years about money, and I'm really not in the mood right now."

And the girl behind the table just says, "Oh, yeah, that happens to all of us!" with this blank smile on her face. It takes all the energy I can gather to pick up my ticket and walk away instead of saying, "Listen. No, you don't REALIZE the way in which this school has seriously fucked me over financially. Don't try to empathize with me by pulling that culture of complaint shit."

So: thank you, U of C, for this absolutely wonderful education. Seriously. It's been amazing and I've become a much deeper-thinking person because of it (contrary to what some professors might think). But please. Don't ask me for money right now. Wait ten years. I won't forget you. We're hitched for life.

Here is the website for the Senior Class Gift Fund.

The show went pretty well. We made a lot of money, the staff seemed, in the end, to have learned a lot and had a productive time (with a few exceptions). The actors really seemed to have gotten a lot out of it. It's hard, though, to reorient my focus back to school and away from the show. I spent the entire day on Sunday off-campus: at home, at power breakfast, at home again watching ONE TREE HILL, at the boys' to watch SIX FEET UNDER until 4 AM. I've got a paper due on Friday, another due on Monday, a take-home exam due Tuesday, and another take-home due on Thursday. And then on Friday I LEAVE FOR NYC! I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED. I've already warned Joe and Christopher and Chris that I'm going to need an afternoon to spend quality time with my discman and Manhattan. And I'm going to pick up my museum pass tomorrow, so I'll be able to get in to any of the museums for free (plus a guest for free. If you'll be in NYC and want to be that guest, email me at jrquinnATuchicagoDOTedu).

That's all for now. Blargh, I guess. Here are some links:

Slate calls the former head of my department a "silly ass!"

Danielle Allen, a former professor of mine who is both a great teacher and an amazing thinker, to become U of C's Dean of the Humanities.

A rather poorly-written Trib article about the "flourishing" of gay studies mentions Chauncey. Apparently I was in the picture from the photo shoot, but I haven't seen the print version.

Chris is quoted in this local gay paper's article about Chauncey.

Gay and Republican, but not necessarily disloyal to the President.

2004-03-04T21:27:00.000-06:00

Grrr. Email is down. For the entire university. And for someone who doesn't have a phone, this is a big problem. Oh, well.

Right now they're at "The Meek Shall Inherit" in the show; I'm sitting in the Green Room/Lounge waiting for it to be over. I want to do some reading, but it's hard for me to pay attention to anything else when the show's going on - my focus has been so primarily on it for the past few days. Although Chauncey came to see it last night with his partner and a friend, and gave a five minute semi-joking soliloquy about why we should go see it because it relates so well to the themes of the postwar class.

I may be in the Chicago Tribune on Sunday! Stay tuned for details.

Oh, and since I have nothing to do after June, I'm filling out an application to be on season 2 of THE APPRENTICE. Yes, that's right. I've got nothing else to do.

Only two more weeks until NYC.

2004-03-04T12:30:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday, Chicago!

WBEZ's "essential" Chicago book list

The "W the President" line: for the trendy, urban Republican. (this is for real)

2004-03-02T20:31:00.000-06:00

Check out this new HRC commercial supporting marriage.

It's not very well-made and the point is a little belabored, but it's true.

2004-03-02T18:00:00.000-06:00

I was crossing the street like my own Rubicon

Mental health days are really, really good. Work on the show has been pretty stressful since last week, especially considering I spent all weekend (and a beautiful, beautiful weekend it was) inside the Reynolds Club running back and forth. We've had a couple of stressful production meetings, and they're especially stressful for me because it's my job to tie everyone and everything together and push things forward. So my stomach sends most of the meeting churning up and down. But it's almost done. After tonight, no more production meetings. The show opens tomorrow and ends on Saturday.

Back to mental health days, though. After the production meeting ended at around 11 last night, most of the production staff headed over to Jimmy's for a much-needed post-meeting drink. I wasn't there for very long, and only had two drinks, but on the walk over there I realized that there wasn't much of a point to going to class this morning because I hadn't had a chance to do the reading because of the show. We had to read half a book for today. When I woke up this morning at 11 I decided that there wasn't much point to going to my 1:30 class either. So I did laundry, made breakfast, listened to some Tavis, read some Horkheimer/Adorno, and some of the book I need to finish for class. Now I'm on campus, working in the basement, and then I have to go upstairs to finish the run. So I'll still put in about seven hours today.

I realize that I haven't posted about two Saturday nights ago, and it seems really silly, so I'll summarize the rest of the gay weekend. Saturday I helped Tom pick out stuff to wear for the party, took a nap, went to see SubUrbia at UT, and then went to the gayboy party. I'd had three cosmopolitans and applied eye makeup with Joe, Christopher, Chris, and Austin before anyone got there. It was pretty crazy. I accosted the boy who bought me at the date raffle, saw some lesbian sex (and some lesbian ass cleavage/thong), sat next to some gay male frottage, drunk-bonded with some of the boys who I find slightly less than stellar. At the end of the night I grabbed the last remaining hard liquor at the party (it was Dimitri Vodka, no less) and announced to the kitchen, "Hey! This is mine. I'm in charge of it. If you want some, I'll give it to you. But you have to ask. But I'll give it to you," and then proceeded to pour shots into people's open mouths. Meanwhile, Joe was pouring himself shots of Seagram's 7 whiskey, only to have Christopher dump them out in the sink before he could down them. We had a big gay slumber party at my place and woke up my roommate. The next day, unshowered with my makeup still on, I loaded in my show and then went straight up to help Mark move out of his place. He gave Joe and Christopher two chairs but then left without offering us a ride home, so we had to tote the chairs through Boystown, on the bus, and back to Hyde Park. Still unshowered, chairs in hand, exhausted, we went back to Chris's to watch the finale of SATC. I cried when: Mary had her stroke (throughout that sequence), Big picked up Carrie at the hotel, Smith came back to Samantha in the middle of the night, and Charlotte found out they were going to get the baby. And then everyone made fun of me for crying.

Yeah, the straight world sucks.

Oh, and about Horkheimer/Adorno: One of their biggest arguments against the Enlightenment is that it replaced mythology with its own, cleverly-disguised system that was, effectively, still a mythology. And that it's dangerous because it's design is a total system for explaining the universe. But then they go back to argue that such-and-such process reflects the labor-power relationships that have, from what I can tell, they think have operated throughout history. Which, in and of itself, seems to be the same kind of all-explaining system they criticize the Enlightenment for proposing.

...end nerdity...

Woohoo!!!! Only three more weeks until I go to NYC!

Oh my God. It's a picture of Carl Kasell.

Mayor faces CRIMINAL charges for marrying gays.

Frank Rich on the joy of gay marriage.

2004-02-29T01:06:00.000-06:00

Ow. Oh. So. Tired. I've been on campus since 9 AM today. Cue to cue for shows sucks. Only one more hour of work.

Also, I was at a party last night and decided that I really need to avoid the straight world as much as possible. When I announced to a friend that we were hunting boys, I got several suspicious looks from several suspicious straight boys. I was shocked! Shocked, I tell you.

2004-02-26T18:59:00.000-06:00

I won't have time to continue to Saturday right now - I have to watch the run of the show that I'm working on. But in the meantime, enjoy Wonkette on the Federal No Ass-Fucking Amendment.

Also, the wit and wisdom of Jean Bethke Elshtain.
On Anti-Semitism: "It's kind of like a Wizard of Oz-style philsophy."
On Lutheran confirmation: "They used to have a confirmation. They probably got rid of it, since they're very touchy-feely, like everything else is nowadays."

2004-02-25T21:16:00.000-06:00

I have been back in the straight world for almost three days now, and I'm not sure that I like it. My gay enclave weekend was pretty fabulous and I want to retreat back into it. Maybe that makes me a separatist, but you know what? My idea of a good time at the gym does not involve sweaty U of C football players yelling encouragingly at each other from across the gym. No sireeeeeee...I want to do my benching in peace (perhaps while singing selections from Gypsy so as to distract Christopher) and I want to do my elliptical work while thoroughly engrossed in the magic that is Britney's new album.

Anyway, I shall recap the weekend for all of my loyal readers.

FRIDAY
What happened during the day is unimportant. The evening started off with a drunken viewing of Man vs. Beast 2, which had to have been one of the most important moments in television, especially when the chimp pissed himself. I moved on to campus to catch as much of Scott's show before I had to head up north for my rendez-vous with Rufus.

Here's how the meeting came about - he has a relative that goes to school here. Joe was in a class with her last year, and they're in the same academic program. She's dating someone who I lived in the dorms with my first year. Anyway, I saw them at the last concert in December, but they didn't see me. Joe and Christopher bought tickets to the concert this time, and Joe called her to see if she was going, and she offered them VIP seats, backstage passes, and invited them to go out afterward with Rufus himself (cut to: me kicking myself for not having bought tickets, me beating up Christopher at the gym when he told me). So Joe and Christopher tell me that I might as well meet them up north afterward, as long as I can "play it cool" or something like that (cut to me, in the privacy of my apartment, saying to myself in the mirror, "Nothing can stop me from meeting the man of my dreams!" and then laughing maniacally). I call the boys before they head out to the concert and they tell me that Rufus is going to Berlin afterward. After Scott's show I hop on the bus and head up north. I meet Mark and his friend Bill, who'd been at the concert, and we compare notes about the different concerts as the club starts to get more and more crowded. Mark tries to call the boys, but no answer. Now, Berlin is open until 5 AM, so it doesn't usually get crowded until pretty late. But around 12:30 or 1 AM, people start to dance, so Mark and Bill and I head out. After dancing to a couple of songs, and a few jack and cokes later, I decide to check my sweater and my scarf and head over to the coat check. While there, I sense someone approach to stand behind me in line, give a quick glance over my shoulder, and then think, "No...no, of course not." And I walk back to Mark and Bill and Mark says, "Rufus Wainwright is here."

And then I realize that the man behind me in the coat check was the man himself.

He was GORGEOUS. He has the long hair back, and he was wearing a tweed jacket and was kind of stubbly.

People generally gave him a really wide berth throughout the night, and he mostly stood at the bar with his keyboardist and looked out at the crowd while he smoked. Every once in a while people would sheepishly ask him a question or ask for a photograph or an autograph. The three of us positioned ourselves so that we could see him wherever we were in the club. At one point Mark walked up and asked him what had happened to Joe and Christopher and found out that Joe's fake hadn't worked. Bill thanked him for "Beautiful Child." I was perfectly content to be in his presence.

At one point, and maybe it was the haze of the club or the drinks, but I don't think so, he made eyes at me. And then at another point, while dancing to a remix of Bjork's "Pagan Poetry," I turned around and saw him dancing four feet away from me. I froze until I realized how obvious it was that I was standing completely still on the dance floor.

After awhile I thought that I would kick myself if I didn't say something to him. But rather than ask him where his relative and her boyfriend were, I asked him if he knew someone else that I go to school with, who claims that he corresponds with Rufus via email. Lame, lame, lame-ass. But I wanted to see if I could catch this kid in a lie and, ultimately, it really doesn't matter one fucking bit except that I actually spoke to my future husband.

At about 3 AM I decide that it's time to start my solo, one hour trip back home. Rufus had left a little after 2 anyway. So I say good-bye to Mark and Bill and walked out of the club, across the street to the train station. I called Joe and Christopher.

"Hey, did I wake you? Rufus touched my elbow. Okay, you know what, I don't really care whether or not I woke you up. I met fucking Rufus Wainwright tonight. Oh my God. I was dancing like so close to him..." and so on and so on and so on.

While on the train with all the other drunkards I got a few looks because of my very obvious, pretty smeared-by-sweat-from-dancing eye makeup. At one point I gave directions to these drunk out-of-towners who were on their way back to O'Hare, which prompted a gentleman to strike up a conversation with me (just after Jackson, which is six stops away from mine). At Cermak (three stops away) he comes and sits next to me. In between Cermak and the next stop he says something about the lack of a gay scene on the South Side and my drunk brain starts to realize what's going on. He's a nice guy. Older, maybe mid-40s, black man, lives on 79th and Maine, missing a few teeth, very articulate. In between 47th and my stop he asks me to come home with him. When I tell him I can't because I have to be on campus at 9:30 AM the next morning, he says that he can come with me and tells me that he just gets awfully tired of sleeping alone in the bed at night. I agree with him, even though I don't really agree with him (because nobody gets in the way of my good night's sleep and my ONE TREE HILL). Tell him it's nice to meet him, shake his hand, get off the train. Wait in the blisteringly cold breeze above the highway, shoulders hunched, puffing a cigarette, alone, staring at the hazy winter night's skyline ahead of me, cursing the bus that won't come and trying to process what has happened to me that night, marveling at how I never thought anything like this would ever have happened to me.

The bus comes and I get home at 4 AM and promptly pass out in bed, only to have to wake up 4.5 hours later.

This is going to have to be continued - it's already a long post. Coming up: Jon sexually harasses young gay men while witnessing lesbian sex. He drinks too much! He takes full possession of the remaining alcohol at a party! Totes ratty old chairs around Boystown for an afternoon! Cries four times at the end of Sex and the City!

Stay tuned.

Oh, and go visit Randy's site. Aside from linking to me, he also talked about taking the #146, which is a good, good bus.

2004-02-21T12:19:00.000-06:00

I did it. I met him. He was actually right behind me at the coat check.

I finally worked up the courage to talk to him. He said, "It was nice to meet you, too," touched my elbow.

I'm going to DIE.

2004-02-19T12:50:00.000-06:00

I love our mayor.

2004-02-18T17:23:00.000-06:00

Holy fucking Christ. If I play my cards right, and the stars align properly, I will get to meet my husband on Friday night.

2004-02-17T20:22:00.000-06:00

You know, I was thinking today of how warm it was (somewhere in the mid-30s) and then I got an email from Molly in which she wrote, "it is 84 degrees here today! and so nice," and that put something of a damper on the whole situation. I went to the gym today for the first time in awhile (the trip, last week's malaise) and while it was good, I'm exhausted. Oh, speaking of the gym: I've been going to Crown for awhile because that's where Christopher goes, and we've been benching together. It's also a little less crowded. But today I went to the Rat and now they play music and I heard, in succession, Blink-182, Liz Phair, and then "We are Family." Very, very odd. It's as if the Rat mixmaster aims to appeal to any and every demographic that might use a U of C gym. Anyway.

So we're reading a book called Working-Class War: American Combat Soldiers and Vietnam by Christian Appy, and it's really fascinating, compelling, and, certainly, horrifying reading. And I feel like a bad person (but not too bad, I guess) because I think that the following passage is pretty hot:

After the initial hazing, according to Ron Kovic's account, the recruits are herded into a large building and lined up in front of long rows of empty boxes. "I want you to take your clothes off," the sergeant shouted. "I want you to take off everything that ever reminded you of being a civilian and put it in the box...I want everything!" Naked now, the men are marched to a group of barbers. With fast, rough strokes, the barbers run electric razors over each man's head, shearing the hair down to the scalp in less than a minute. After the haircut the men are sent down long metal hallways, shoved along by drill instructors. The men get jammed up, the "young bodies tense and twisted together, grasping each other, holding on like children." They are run into a large shower room. A sergeant screams: "Wash all that scum off! I want you maggots to wash all that civilian scum off your bodies forever!"

Dripping and still naked, the men are moved to another room and are lined up in front of a row of boxes containing military uniforms...

I think it's the tense and twisted together part that gets me, and my locker-room fantasies.

2500 couples!

An interesting WaPo article about James Baldwin (sadly, they are requiring registration now).

I Tell You What I'd Do if I Were Gay! (thanks to Sara for the link)

2004-02-16T20:05:00.000-06:00

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I was writing a really, really long post and it just got COMPLETELY FUCKING ERASED. DAMMIT.

Okay, en brefe, as the French might say, here is my weekend update:
- Gay marriage in SF = YAY!
- Ran into old high school friend who is now grad student here at the U of C = weird, but YAY!
- Valentine's Day = Fuck you.
- LATTER DAYS = no good. But Steve Sandvoss is sexy. And, apparently, straight.
- Went to the opening of PARAGON SPRINGS at TIMELINE on Saturday = Good.
- Sex and the City = "Go get our girl" = I will be in such tears next Sunday.
- Adolf Eichmann = subject of class today = difficult class.
- Home movies of me and my roommates = so much fun and I will try to learn how to post them.
- Barbie and Ken, splitsville = Aw! But we SO knew Ken was gay. It was, like, totally obvious.
- Matt Drudge = Has he gone too far?
- Massachusetts = so much drama!

Certain New York people have pointed me in the direction of Adam's site, where he recently confessed to a crush on Mr. John Mayer. I confess that I share this crush. And it made me like Adam all even more.

Ooooh! Naughty.

Excerpts from a new book about Camus and Sartre.

Who's chic and who's not? I am. Yeah.

2004-02-11T22:47:00.000-06:00

SF Mayor Newsom wants the county to grant marriage licenses to gay couples.

From the article: "Less than a month ago I took the oath of office here at City Hall and swore to uphold California's Constitution, which clearly outlaws all forms of discrimination," Newsom said in a statement. "Denying basic rights to members of our community will not be tolerated."

In other gay marriage news, Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney can suck it. But actually, what I'm puzzled about by this decision is this: if the Supreme Judicial Court last week informed the legislature that nothing less than marriage is sufficient under the guidelines of the state constitution, how is it possible that they can include civil unions in the amendment? Is it precisely because they would be altering the Constitution? That would seem to make sense, even though it might tie up Margaret Marshall's panties and fly in the face of the spirit of that ruling.

Oh, Boston.com says that the Legislature rejected that amendment tonight in this story that I just checked.

On Sunday night, after a day-long recovery process that involved watching a lot of the Travel Channel and the Style Channel, I made dinner for Ryan and J. and we watched Sex and the City. We decided to go and check out Teeny Tiny Tina Turner at Jacque's and eventually ended up at Dedo, which had posted, very prominently, the first paragraph of the GOODRIDGE decision from last November:
Marriage is a vital social institution. The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support; it brings stability to our society. For those who choose to marry, and for their children, marriage provides an abundance of legal, financial, and social benefits. In return it imposes weighty legal, financial, and social obligations. The question before us is whether, consistent with the Massachusetts Constitution, the Commonwealth may deny the protections, benefits, and obligations conferred by civil marriage to two individuals of the same sex who wish to marry. We conclude that it may not. The Massachusetts Constitution affirms the dignity and equality of all individuals. It forbids the creation of second-class citizens. In reaching our conclusion we have given full deference to the arguments made by the Commonwealth. But it has failed to identify any constitutionally adequate reason for denying civil marriage to same-sex couples.
Ryan and J. and I spent a considerable amount of time talking, over a couple (maybe just one?) Cosmos about this passage, but I nearly lost it as soon as we walked inside. That is was there. I nearly cried.

Every time Joe and Christopher and I have dinner (which is usually two or three times a week) we end up talking about it.

After the Goodridge decision was handed down last quarter, Chauncey told us how excited one of his lawyer friends was (she had been working on the case) about it and reminded us that the push for marriage wasn't over and CERTAINLY wasn't secure in its trajectory. He told us that we need to be passionate about our causes.

My boss yesterday told me that she thinks gay rights (not specifically marriage, but it may be the cornerstone issue) will be the defining social justice issue of our time.

And I think she may be right.

2004-02-10T19:04:00.000-06:00

I'm back from visiting Ryan and J. in Boston. My liver will, thankfully, make a complete recovery.

I'll post more about it in a couple of days, but here are a few snapshots.

So, Jon, do you have a boyfriend back in Chicago?
No.
Oh. Well, do you have someone who fucks you?
Oh, no.
Oh, that is sad. Everyone should have someone who fucks them.

From what you've said, U of C isn't a school but a way of life.

2004-02-03T20:09:00.000-06:00

Ohio approves the most sweeping ban on same-sex marriage in the country.

Florida, the only state that has a law prohibiting homosexuals from adopting, upholds that ban.

Rhode Island legislator introduces a gay marriage ban.

Kansas court sentences Matthew Limon to 17 years in jail for consensual sex he had with a 14-year old (when he was 18).

It's not over.

2004-01-31T09:22:00.000-06:00

I got home at around 2 AM last night, and fell asleep at around 2:30 AM. I woke up at 7 so that I could be here at work by 8. In between the time that I fell asleep and woke up (appx. 4.5 hrs.), A HUGE FUCKING FIRE TORCHED THE BUILDING TWO DOORS DOWN FROM MINE. And I didn't even wake up. As I was brushing my teeth this morning, the good people at Chicago Public Radio told me: "A blaze on the South Side of Chicago left several people homeless last night. [my ears perk up: What neighborhood now? Hopefully it wasn't near the school where I work!] The fire, on the 5300 block of Woodlawn Ave., has left Woodlawn blocked."

Jigga fuck what? WHAT? Not an easy thing to wake up to on appx. 4.5 hrs. of sleep.

Okay, so I'm not back. I'm still on a break. In four days I am going to Boston to visit him and take a break from school and, apparently, go to all the "bad gay places" he goes. Let's only hope they're that naughty.

I've been in a bit of a funk lately, partially because of money issues, partially because of winter quarter, partially because of school, partially because I'm not quite sure why.

It IS SO FUCKING FREEZING HERE IN BARTLETT AND THERE'S EVEN A GODDAMNED SPACE HEATER AT MY FEET.

2004-01-15T00:01:00.000-06:00

Okay, one last thing before I break.

The video for Britney's "Toxic." Watch it at Britney.com.

OH MY GOD I JUST WATCHED THE VIDEO AND IT WAS AWESOME.

And, I might add - they stole from me. Not just the airplane, but the dance on the airplane, the motorcycle ride, the motorcycle crash, and the cornering of a guy at the end (except it was on a bed).

I'm totally suing.

2004-01-14T21:45:00.000-06:00

I'm going to take a bit of a break. It will probably last until the beginning of February. I'm just super busy right now.

But, before I go, a couple of UOFCSTALKER highlights. From, no less, the Ratner Center.
1. Slightly disgraced professor Julius Kirshner wearing a really big yellow checkered scarf, walking out.
2. William Schweiker, theologian, towel wrapped around his waist, on the way to the shower.

Happy January!

2004-01-10T13:56:00.000-06:00

I found links because I'm love with Slate

How big a wanker is Quentin Tarantino?

General Clark buys a sweater.

Art, Science to Wed.

2004-01-10T09:46:00.000-06:00

Good morning, everyone.

Remind me that I said this in about three months. I LOVE WINTER. It's true. I do. I mean, I love seasons generally, and certainly fall and spring are the best ones, and summer is the worst (well, it has its benefits, but being "warm" is overrated). But winter. Not so bad. Not so bad at all. Last night, downtown, with the big snowflakes falling, the boys and I kept jumping up and down to try and catch them in our mouths. And then the walk to campus this morning, where everything is a kind of blue-gray sheet along the ground. I guess, even after three years, I'm still a little shocked to see how rapidly and significantly the world can change. I mean, just two weeks ago it was 61 degrees out.

Which may be one reason why I'm sick. Yes, it's true. I noticed the sore throat coming on around Wednesday night, and it's just gotten worse. Yesterday, at work, I was trying to read a play for which we might host a high school student matinee (reading there is a little difficult anyway), and I just couldn't concentrate. So I had a few cigarettes with Heidi, we vented our frustration about young people (especially those who can't read or understand Kant), I bothered Ben, and I teased my boss about her picture in THE READER.

Last night was a boys' night out, with Joe, Christopher, and Chris. Mark was supposed to come but got called into work. I almost didn't make it because I wasn't feeling well, but I managed to pull it together. It's weird - I wasn't really even in a mood to drink, which is quite a shock to me. Chris has been telling me, repeatedly, that I'm running myself into the ground, and Juliana told me that I need to slow down. I would be more than happy to oblige if it weren't for the fact that I got paid $72 yesterday to get me through the next two weeks, after which I will get another paycheck, most of which I will have to give up to my landlord for February rent. I am still entirely unsure how I am going to buy any of my books for classes this quarter. I guess, though, that I am proof that one can survive in the third-largest city in the country on $6,000 a year. Barely. But you can do it.

Anyway, I'm rambling because I'm not feeling well, I think. I don't have any links for today.

2004-01-08T23:40:00.000-06:00

Hi all. Sorry for not having posted in awhile - this week has been really busy and, much to my dismay, it will probably not ever be less busy. Running auditions for shows, scheduling meetings for work, writing the quarterly report for Admissions, trying to solve financial aid issues, and dealing with KIDS who obviously haven't ever read, or ever understood, Kant.

In the meantime, read this old LINGUA FRANCA article.

2004-01-06T16:37:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday to me!

2004-01-04T10:59:00.000-06:00

Oh, and I just realized that in two days my blog will be one year old.

2004-01-04T09:40:00.000-06:00

Greetings from The Murder Capital of America.

Links first:
Britney Spears got married! Haha!

Google 2003: A Year of Searches

Carrie Bradshaw's Final Reckoning (it's tonight! Or rather, it starts tonight!)

I'm at work, in the basement of the Reynolds Club, where I'll be until 4. It's supposed to snow something fierce today, which may interfere with my plans to do laundry, but will not, under any circumstances, interfere with my viewing of SATC.

I have something to tell someone, but I don't know how to do it, and I'm a little afraid to do it.

I have a paper to write from last quarter, but I'm enjoying reading for fun and not worrying about school (until tomorrow, I guess).

I'm not usually one for New Year's resolutions. I never have been, mostly because I find the idea a little silly and because those things about myself that I would like to improve are those things over which I exercise so little self-control. But at least 2003 ended with me starting up at the gym. If I got nothing accomplished that year, at least I did that.

My concept of years, though, is a little skewed, because I tend to view everything that happened before late September 2003 as "last year" or, at the very least, much more distant than I view what happened, say, in November. But as I was walking to campus I started thinking about where I was about a year ago this time. Getting ready to start my paper-writing quarter, starting the best-run production I've worked on so far, hiring new tour guides. It's also funny, I guess, how much people who've moved away from home harp on the fact that they Live (with a capital "L") where they've moved, but how, eventually, that becomes where they live. In a way that only a few people who I go to school with, those who are around my age and who actually spend time in Hyde Park, this neighborhood really feels like home. And how much place really influences your development. I'm a much different person today than I would be if I had gone to school in DC or New York, not just if I'd stayed in Florida.

In addition to all the other things I have to do this year (finish school, graduate, find a job, move), I've decided to try to get in control of my money situation. I sort of say this every year, but I think I'm really going to try and step up to the plate about this one, this time.

Best of luck to all of you for the year, and best of luck to all my U of C readers on the upcoming quarter.

(Oh, and by the way, have you noticed that seniors in college watch more tv than most people?)

2004-01-01T18:22:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year everybody!

Sorry it's been so long since I've written. I'm back in Chicago, thank goodness, relatively unscathed and now in possession of a mini food processor.

More to come.

2003-12-27T01:49:00.000-06:00

I'm downstate, on a 44k modem, so I don't have long to post...here goes:

What kind of American family does not safely lubricate the holidays by imbibing copious amounts of alcoholic beverages?

Mine.

I have not had a drink since Monday, December 22, 2003, and I have smoked only one cigarette since 4:45 Tuesday, December 23, 2003. The not drinking I didn't mind until today, when I had to spend two hours in the basement of a Baptist Church while my aunts and uncles decorated for my grandparents' anniversary celebration, which is tomorrow.

There is no coffee aside from instant in the house, no tea aside from Lipton. There is only one place in the city that is not a gas station or a McDonald's where I might purchase coffee. This is also not good. I have been drinking a lot of Diet Coke. This dehydrates me. And the water smells bad.

Still, I have been pretty well-behaved. My mother even said so. But there are the moments when my chest physically aches in protest, and to keep myself from screaming, "fuck you, this whole shit is shit!" and running outside and chain smoking, I have to keep telling myself, only two more days.

I am very thankful that my stepdad, my mom, and my sister is here, but I think that if I have to hear another PG-rated joke about straight sex I will tell whoever said it to fuck off.

2003-12-22T12:58:00.000-06:00

I am happy just to know that I'm His child.

Wow! It's been so long since I've last posted. I almost forgot.

On Thursday I go to do laundry. At this point, even the hangers-on have left - even my friends who really do LIVE in Hyde Park are gone. All the other students in my building are gone. As far as I know, it's just me and the boys and Heidi. I throw my stuff into the washing machines, add detergent, and then set off to walk. It's cold, it's snowing lightly, and I'm on a mission. But I run into Andy and Evelyn, who invite me over to have cookies with them. I say yes, we part, and I continue on my mission. I walk to the Borders here in Hyde Park and start looking. But I can't find it - so I get help, and after rifling through most of the CDs, we finally reach it: the soundtrack to Angels in America. So good. So, so good. Anyway, we had cookies and watched MTV's Homecoming specials and then some of Down to You, a fine film if there ever was one.

Friday: suburbs. I went to Naperville for Rob's family's Christmas Party. It would take too long to describe, but I do have to say that it's interesting to see how insensitive people can be, and how that insensitivity can translate to a kind of unconscious, entrenched racism and homophobia.

Saturday: Back home, walking through downtown early on a weekend morning. It's cold, windy, empty, and I am rockin' the Angels soundtrack. Brunch with the boys, visit to the Seminary Cooperative. Later: Hedwig and the Angry Inch at bartender's apartment.

Yesterday I shopped and bought a cute outfit for Christmas Eve dinner.

Middlesex was good. I've moved on to In Cold Blood.

And I just said goodbye to Christopher.

The NYTimes simplifies the complicated relationship between reason and faith.

People might fly planes into buildings again, but please, America, don't worry.

Yay for gay marriage!

2003-12-16T17:42:00.000-06:00

Tell them how I've defied gravity!

Sorry I didn't post yesterday. I've been busy reading Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides, which is very good; being fabulous; being lazy while being fabulous; and sending waves of love to him as he battles the flu.

So, some supersad drama: I was out late on Saturday night and had to work six hours Sunday morning to afternoon. I came home, chatted with Scott a bit, and took a nap. Since no one was home, I left the door to my bedroom open, sleeping on top of my blankets and such. Only to wake up with a gasp and a start at 9 PM, two hours into Angels, right (I might add) as Roy Cohn was dying. I threw on some clothes and practically ran/slid on the ice to the boys' place. Afterwards we had a sauce that the boys had been cooking for about four hours and a nice, long chat, in which we also talked about how we are SO an urban family.

Speaking of which, my nights this week are almost determined by the gay family: Angels on Sunday (oh and I am so so in love with Justin Kirk, btw), Showtunes last night, GAYTV tonight, the Sidetrack Christmas party and a benefit with Mark tomorrow, and something that I can't remember on Thursday.

Showtunes was good last night. There were tons of people there, but the weirdest things happened in that A) I did not get drunk and B) I was there also to meet Diana's new girlfriend. So we met, she's super cute and super fun. In walks Mark and they RUN at each other and hug and scream and so on. We had NO idea that they'd known each other.

In about a week I'll be boarding a train that will take me to my Christmas destination: Quincy, Illinois. Here is the city's website. I am trying to prepare myself, mentally at least, for my trip there, since I have to do so everytime I go. Turn down the burner a bit, less talk about God, no talk about sex, no swearing. But at least I'll get to see my mom and stepdad (who I haven't seen in a year) and my sister (who I haven't seen in six months). A few of my cousins know about the "g" word, and they're pretty cool with it. My aunts and uncles and I have danced a quite complicated dance for the past couple of years about it - they refuse to say the "g" word, but hint around it a lot, and I pretend like I have no idea what they're talking about, partially because I want to hear them say the "g" word and partially to spare them the knowledge that they both want to know and would kill them to know. I think that, for my grandparents, the idea of "gay" doesn't really exist. Anyway, it'll be an interesting trip nonetheless.

I went to this site to help out the cause, but now it says that I "missed my chance."

Haha! Madonna's giving a fundraiser concert for Wes Clark in her home in LA. I guess I know who I'll vote for now. If Madge says so...

The full text of Howard Dean's foreign policy address given yesterday in Los Angeles.

2003-12-14T10:17:00.000-06:00

To me, you are perfect.

Snow yesterday! And it accumulated! Not much, just a few inches, but enough to blanket the streets and the sidewalks and the parks. The world looked truly BLUE this morning on my walk to work. I love snow! I love winter!

I saw LOVE, ACTUALLY last night with Joe and Christopher. I wanted to like it a lot, at the very least because my buddies Hugh, Colin, and Alan are in it. And because it was made by those clever romantic comedy masters from Great Britain. But its tone was really inconsistent, because it tried to bounce back and forth between "zany, irreverent, self-mocking romantic comedy" and "serious romantic comedy about important stuff that's still funny." But it was almost worth seeing because Andrew Lincoln was a cutie and dressed really well and held up a card to Keira Knightley and said "to me, you are perfect." And I almost think it was worth seeing because Rodrigo Santoro was in it, and with very few clothes on.

Anyway, tonight is Part II of Angels.

Wow! We captured Saddam Hussein.

James McCourt on the Queer Street and "Homosexuality" and History.

That's all for now! Tomorrow: did I cry at Perestroika or not? I'll tell all!

2003-12-13T14:52:00.000-06:00

Support a good cause: Spread Santorum!

2003-12-13T12:41:00.000-06:00

As much as he wants to, Dale Pack can't help but dislike Mike Nichols' screen version of ANGELS IN AMERICA.

2003-12-13T10:42:00.000-06:00

And the neighborhood breathes a huge sigh of relief.

Good morning, there. I'm at work, sitting in the basement, and walking to campus saw SO many people with suitcases trolling around the neighborhood. One of the weird things about living in a college neighborhood is the feeling of itinerancy the place has sometimes - I don't feel like an itinerant (I'll be here until December 23), but so many people practically beat each other up in a rush to get to the airport AS SOON AS FINALS WEEK IS OVER that the neighborhood feels almost ravaged. But then it settles down, it gets quiet again, I stop by Jimmy's for a drink, I go to the Med Bakery for coffee and they say hi to me, the homeless guy who's "in the life, too" bums a cigarette off me, I run into some kids that I taught a few years back, and people recognize me because I live here. And that's a nice feeling.

It's also a little weird to sit here and not have to do school reading, but still sort of have to do school reading. I've borrowed all these books from Heidi that I'm planning on reading: Middlesex, Life of Pi. And I'm also going to try and read Crime and Punishment. Or I'll just sit on my ass and watch tv. Oh, speaking of which:
Martha Stewart, who used to scare me and still does, but now in a good way, is on TV here in Chicago at 1 AM weeknights. It's a very good procrastination tool, and you learn something, too.

The show was pretty good last night. Alex Billings was by far the best part. She did this recurring piece called "Christmas and Lana Turner," in which she played her mom. It was really funny and really moving. And she looks great for someone who's post-op, had a big drug problem, and is positive.

My story was pretty good. I was really nervous at first, and that nervous energy translated into trying to house manage - I couldn't really help it, since it was at the MCA, where I already house manage, so it was like switching into default mode. I was also really nervous because my story was the first part of the show. I had about fifteen people there with me to see the show, which made it a bit better, but I almost bit my right index finger raw during the story because I was so nervous. The caricature of me was a little exaggerated, and there were some factual inaccuracies (for example, when I came out to my Mom I had NO IDEA that I'd be at the U of C). But it was moving in a way that I can't quite characterize right now.

I'm going to try and talk to Megan and to Connor about jobs for next year in the coming week. I've already talked to Connor about going out and grabbing a drink and I'm going to email Megan on Monday and ask her for a print copy of my story and see if I can pick her brain sometime soon.

For some reason this morning, I started thinking somewhat seriously about who I'll vote for in the Illinois primary. I don't remember, but I think it's one of the ones that still matters (last time, when I was still a registered Republican, I waited to switch my registration JUST so I could cast a meaningless vote for John McCain, after the nomination had already been decided). Indeed, some people call me a "homocon." But, as a happy homosexual who fought with his parents, I am a registered Democrat, so I get to choose between everything from crazy Kucinich to hot-in-a-bathing-suit Clark. I guess the biggest question for me is: should I vote for someone who I think can beat President Bush (who I don't think is the most evil thing ever to walk the earth - but I'm not exactly happy with his presidency, either) or someone whose "mission" I believe in (because these two are not exactly the same thing)? I.e., it looks like the race is shaping up to be Dean v. Clark, or maybe Dean v. Clark v. Gephardt. But whatever. Dean's got something of a compelling message, he supports continuing the Iraqi occupation despite his opposition of the war, he's not as liberal as people think (the GOP is going to make him into the next McGovern, and that will probably work, even though I think they're wrong). But Clark's got foreign policy experience like nobody's business and might actually provide a viable Democratic alternative to Bush. I just don't know...part of me thinks that, hell, it's the primaries, I should vote for someone in whom I believe before I have to cast a ballot for the "lesser of two evils" in the general election. But, so we can all remain informed (by spin), here are the candidates' websites. Don't forget to read between the lines, kids!
- Howard Dean for America
- General Wesley K. Clark

More links:
Another article on the college hook-up culture (this one courtesy of Sara).

Queere Eye for the Medieval Guye (via Faustus)

The Smoking Gun is hip!

2003-12-11T19:47:00.000-06:00

Will I divorce Rufus to marry Justin Kirk? Stay tuned to find out.

2003-12-11T17:28:00.000-06:00

Here comes the long post I promised.

This Friday and Saturday, About Face Theatre presents The Gift, a collection of holiday-themed stories. The show is at 8 PM in the theater at the Museum of Contemporary Art, 220 E. Chicago Ave. Megan Carney, the Artistic Director of their Youth Theatre, during her annual training workshop for my teaching program here at UT, had us generate holiday-themed stories. I told the story about when I came out to my mom The Day After Thanksgiving, 1999. That story is going to be in the show, so I'll be there, posse in hand, to relive the memories. Also - everyone's favorite transsexual lesbian, Alex Billings, will be there to sing Christmas Carols. Join us! Tickets are only $10 for "students" and "industry" folks. If you live in Hyde Park, we're leaving on the 6 PM #173 bus from the Reynolds Club. Others - we'll see you there.

The Rufus Wainwright Concert.
Rufus's and my legal team, so as not to compromise the burgeoning status of our relationship, have largely prohibited me from discussing what went on most of that night, but I can say that the concert was fantastic. My husband wore a long-sleeved, white poly-rayon shirt and women's pants that had long-dinged rainbow stripes of suede on them. He sang ever single song from Want One (opening with "I Don't Know What it Is"), three songs from his first album ("Foolish Love," "April Fools," and "Beauty Mark"), four from Poses ("Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" as an encore, "Grey Gardens," "Poses," and "One Man Guy"), and a few songs from the upcoming Want Two. He encouraged us all to write our congressmen and women to urge them to release the album. My letter to good old Bobby Rush is on its way. Darling R also continually mentioned his love for Ann Sather's - apparently he was staying in the City Suites Hotel next door. And, finally, I cried during the song about his father - because my father did the same thing to us when I was a kid, except that it wasn't snowing outside because it happened in Florida.

Angels in America.
So much has been said about the movie, most of it positive, and I'll line up to provide a ringing endorsement of it. Mark, Christopher, Deborah, Joe (who's back!), and I all watched it at the boys' place on Sunday night. I'd read the play before but am a little too young to have seen any of the productions of it. Needless to say, all the stylization on the page that makes little sense, as well as the arch language that reads a little pretentious, translated very well to the (sort of) big screen. I cried three times. Once during the scene where Prior is crawling through the hallway and Lewis wants to call the ambulance and Prior tells him not to because he'll never leave the hospital if he does. Then again during the big confrontation between Prior/Lewis and Joe/Harper at the end of Chapter 2. Then, finally, just before the angel arrives, when Prior hallucinates that he is dancing with Lewis and then, as the ground shakes, he chants to himself about not being afraid. By the time the credits rolled I couldn't even see the tv screen. I definitely can't wait for the second part. You can watch a preview at HBO's website for the show here.

Sara's response to the news about my crying to Rufus and then to AinA: "jon, so much crying recently! i think you need an emotional vacation. ormaybe just a break from movies about AIDS."

But I still think it's important.

The Rest.
Since then I've been in a whirl of writing and frenzy a/k/a Finals Week at the U of C. Someone should really do an ethnography of finals week here. Anyway, my Augustine paper turned out to be okay, fourteen pages that I wrote in one night that actually makes some sense (ooh, look, there, Jonnyboy, you've made an ARGUMENT!). My interview transcript for Chauncey's class turned out to be 49 pages long and wouldn't print from the disk I'd saved it to. But it's okay now. And I wrote the seven page paper accompanying the transcript on Wednesday morning, from 3 AM - 6 AM. My paper for my independent study doesn't really need to be turned in until January 7, so I'm going to try and start it next week and finish it when I'm in Assland, IL for Christmas. I actually met with Lilla yesterday to finish up our conversation about the book. I had written a new question statement for him that he said was "excellent," which was a bit shocking. I'm starting to get my thoughts about my study in order, which is surprising and good.

Tickets are still only about $200 to go visit you in Boston, and I'm planning on buying one tomorrow when I get paid.

It is SO FUCKING COLD IN THIS OFFICE RIGHT NOW.

I'd heard about her from Bradford. She got rave reviews from the Sprite. And I gotta tell you, they're right. Kia is badass. She writes on her page, "Fuck you and I hope you die.
Nicholas, don't come to my fucking site anymore. You are garbage. You are full of shit and a liar. You don't give a fuck about anyone else and you are so quick to assume that everyone is out to get you. I put myself out there for you and you shit on me. So fuck you and if you really don't want any contact with me, stay the fuck away from my website." And she's got "Toxic" by Ms. B in her playlist.

Two things about this story: Who would EVER want to go out on a date with Dennis Kucinich? Ever? And, furthermore, in my day we had a name for people who were bachelors for that long. GAY!

Orlando Bloom makes friends. (thanks to the girls at Let Me Get This Straight for the tip).

2003-12-10T23:50:00.000-06:00

Technically, I am done. But now I have to lock up the building, so I can't write a long post. I'll do one tomorrow. But, if you haven't, WATCH ANGELS IN AMERICA.

Coetzee's Nobel Lecture.

2003-12-07T15:52:00.000-06:00

From the ashes of my life rose the phoenix of, um, my life, or something like that. Whatever:

Oh, how I feel like a beautiful child.

Blogger was acting weird all morning, so I didn't get to write a big post about how the concert was. But I'll do it, sometime, maybe after all my finals week work is done.

When Political Art Mattered: artists, their art, and the AIDS movement.

2003-12-04T17:16:00.000-06:00

Sketch of a Video for "Toxic," a Song on Ms. Britney Spears' New Album In the Zone

A song that I like to call "Secret Agent Britney."

Opening shot. A dimly lit warehouse. Britney stands in front of a young man who sits on a chair. Her dancers gaze on, behind her, breathing heavily from some truly intense dance moves. She leans in toward's the guy's face and the camera turns for a profile view of this action. He MAY look like Justin. But we never see his face. Ever.

Cut. Music starts.

Ms. B. and her dancers are flying on a plane. Everything is all luxury, much like an old-fashioned high class plane flight one might see in movies from the 1960s. The plane is full of people who are all very posh and bling-bling. Camera moves in to focus on Ms. B, who is sitting and laughing with her dance troupe. Her face suddenly clouds over and the camera follows her gaze to see the back of a man who has taken off running through the plane. Ms. B and her dancers give chase. When the man, who we see from the back, reaches the front of the plane, he grabs a parachute, busts open the door, and jumps out.

Dance break.

Britney and her posse pursue, each in parachutes. They land on the deck of a cruise ship.

Dance break.

Britney and co. run frantically through the cruise ship in search of their man. She finally catches up to him and the chase continues with renewed frenzy. The camera follows them back to the deck, where mystery man jumps into a life-ski-doo (much like a lifeboat, but a ski-doo instead) and plunges into the harbor. Britney follows.

As Britney chases her guy through the harbor, we cut back and forth between the chase and a dance break on the deck of the cruise ship. Eventually her guy reaches a dock and takes off on foot. He jacks a car from an unsuspecting, yuppie-like older person and zooms away. Britney pursues him, helmetless, on a motorcyle.

Cut to dance break in the poorly-lit warehouse.

Mystery man crashes his car in the middle of a busy intersection. Britney dismounts her bike to find her dance troupe waiting, and they all set off in pursuit of him. Camera, at shaky angles, focuses on their feet as they run. Eventually, they trap him in the same warehouse we see at the beginning of the video. Then, as guy watches, camera behind him records...

A dance break.

At the end of the dance break, we watch Britney, from behind, tie the man down onto a waiting chair. Her dancers shake their booties furiously as she leans over him (much like the beginning of the video) and sensually kisses him.

Fade out.

2003-12-02T18:00:00.000-06:00

I received an email from Molly earlier today, chiding me for not having updated since last week. And I must apologize - but at least I'm not as bad as Aaron, who didn't update for a month. And I'm going to claim the same excuse that he does, which is that it's about the end of the quarter and I'll be really busy. Now, granted, I'm procrastinating like crazy. Last night I reached a new low when I watched about 15 minutes of 7th Heaven before heading up to Showtunes.

I've got a three-hour interview to transcribe, a 5-8 page paper about that interview to write, a paper for my Augustine class, and a paper on The Stranger to write. Good thing about the last one, though: I can pretty much turn it in to Lilla whenever. So yeah.

I had a most relaxing and unproductive (schoolwise) weekend. Wednesday I went shopping for my Thanksgiving contribution - my mom's stuffing. Her stuffing requires that you stale two loaves of bread, so I put the bread on plates and cutting boards around the kitchen and dining room in the apartment and proceeded to smell up the place. Thursday morning I showered and did my hair and everything and then started to assemble the stuffing. I cut my right index finger on the BACK (yes, the back) of the knife as I was chopping the onion and celery. I cubed the bread, scrambled up the eggs, and then realized that I didn't have a mixing bowl or pot large enough to hold all the bread to mix it with the spices and the eggs. Instead of freaking out, I started to sautee the onion and celery in butter. Then I went back to face the stale bread and proceeded to freak out again (same problem). The only solution, then, was to light a cigarette - which is what I did. Blondie played in the background and I, standing there, in my pajamas with my hair styled, proceeded to smoke while sauteeing. The stuffing, needless to say, turned out really great, and the dinner was fun. I got to meet Mark's boyfriend, Michael, and he had a whole bunch of friends in from out of town. They were all friends from Syracuse, so it was a little weird for Christopher and I to talk with all of them. But they were pretty fun, and also seemed to be completely shocked by Christopher's, Mark's, and my over-the-top-ness. It was almost as if they'd never met gay people before.

On Friday I drove my roommate Aaron to the airport to say good-bye to him. He's going to do field research for his dissertation in the poorest town of the poorest region of Brazil (thank God for urban life!). I cried when I pulled away from the airport! Then, because I was lonely, I went over to Chris's apartment and we drank champagne mimosas with strawberry ice cream in them and watched Queer as Folk. Too much. Then, after I sobered up, Christopher and I went to see Elizabeth's show at the Cultural Center, which was pretty bad, but Elizabeth was good in it. Strangely enough: Michael's roommate was the stage manager, so we saw everyone we'd had Thanksgiving dinner with for the second night in a row. Then we got pizza, then Christopher and I went and got a drink.

Saturday I had my interview with my alum for Chauncey's class. Andrew Patner, bless you. We talked for three hours. My favorite story, I think, was an anecdote he told about a former classmate of his from Mississippi who used to walk around campus, no matter what season, no matter what the weather was like, with a large umbrella tucked in the crook of his arm. That level of fabulousness=my goal. Sadly, this man later died of AIDS during the 1980s. Then I tried to do some reading at home, which actually meant I watched TV. Chris and Christopher and I decided to go up to Logan Square to get Argentinian food.

Sunday I stayed in the apartment all day long, cleaned, talked to my mother for two hours, cleaned, read a little, and watched TV. It was kind of great to be so lazy.

Yesterday it was back in the saddle. I found out that I didn't get the job at the MCA, which is sort of good and sort of bad. Sort of bad because it would be a great job and would provide me with a stable income and would solve a lot of my financial issues of the moment (the largest being, 'dude, you have no money'). Good because it means that I'll actually have a real senior year of college. And what would college be like if I didn't have to scrimp and save ('dove exfoliating liquid soap or bananas for breakfast? Both!') or if life weren't kind of like a Russian novel? I woke up early, did some shopping, put gas in Heidi's car, cranked up the Britney and drove to the parking structure to put the car away at least until winter break. Then I went to UT for work, then I went to the gym (intense, good workout. I'm still sore). Then to Admissions, then home, then to Showtunes. Christopher and I swore that we were going to leave early. Some cute guy commented on my hair and then said nothing else. I had four drinks. We didn't leave early. Then, figuring we were going to miss the southbound #6, we decided to get pizza. And, of course, Silence of the Lambs was on TV at the Pie Hole, so we had to watch it until the end (As Mark walked away from us he tottered, screaming into the night, "Dr. Lecter? Dr. Lecter?!?!?!"). So Christopher and I took the Red Line to downtown, I said "fuck it" to rent, we went to the Bank One building (my favorite in all of Chicago, I think) and got money for a cab.

I arrived home at 2:45 AM.

Today was my last day of classes for the quarter. The last Fall Quarter. Hmmm.

Kinkylinkytime, then to read Camus, then to gaytv:
Coetzee hates to give interviews.

World AIDS Day was yesterday. Five people die of AIDS every minute of every day.

Ew! Now that Hyde Parkers - read, U of Cers - are starting to post to craigslist, it's, like, SO over.

2003-11-25T20:08:00.000-06:00

Haha! Let it be known, I saw it first. Well, maybe not, but I'm claiming that I did regardless. Most of you at the U of C might know that Margaret Cho is coming to campus. The posters for the show are already up, but might I note that they list the date of her gig as January 10, 2003.

2003-11-25T18:33:00.000-06:00

Crescatier and former housemate of mine Amanda Butler posted last week about the issue of allowing gay men - or any man who has slept with another man - give blood, or, in her specific case, donate marrow. (scroll down) Today there was a blood drive in the RC and my friend Dave came up to UT and expressed shock that such a regulation existed. I told him it's been around for a very, very long time as a way to prevent AIDS transmission through blood transfusions. I have, in fact, given blood before, but not since I've been sexually active, and people continue to amaze me when they're shocked by that regulation exists, especially since we have a better understanding of HIV and better testing and screening to prevent transmission via transfusion occuring. I sort of shrug and say, "well, that's the way the world is." Another moment of institutionalized homophobia, perhaps? Or just concerned medical science (usually an enemy of the gay)? Or both?

2003-11-25T17:58:00.000-06:00

Scott told me that I'm no longer his favorite blog. Sad. I told him that I was planning on writing a big post today and he said, "Sometimes it's not quality, it's quantity. Not that the quality is really ever great, but whatever." It seems that I have at least ONE loyal reader, so I must press on. But seriously, as I told Scott, I've been pretty busy lately. I've also been doing a little bit of personal inventory lately, thinking about how things have changed and/or are changing. So sometimes the blog becomes a little less of a priority.

Heidi changed the name of her blog! Sadly, she didn't take my idea of "Time to Bitch."

A brief report on what happened since I've posted, then, is in order. I totally had an awesome time with Ms. Molly Proue, even though I never got to say goodbye to her (tear!). That was due largely to my state of intense busy-ness over the weekend. I watched a really amazing but sad movie about AIDS for Chauncey's class on Thursday night. And it was good to see it because, as I wrote to him in an email, my generation lives with AIDS as an objective reality, but not, necessarily, a lived experience. It's important for us to understand the impact that it had on individual lives and communities. Anyway. Afterwards I needed a drink like nobody's business, so Sara accompanied me so I wouldn't be alone and we discussed gay marriage. Friday night was spent at Japonais with my MCA crew. The drinks were very good, but the crowd was a little weird, and the bar was not THAT cool. Anyway, it was so fun to see them all again, especially because the five of us haven't had a chance to hang out together, alone, for an extended period of time since the summer. Saturday and Sunday were mostly spent obsessing over Gay Thanksgiving. And planning. And calming Christopher down. And him calming me down.

But Gay Thanksgiving went off very well, despite the fact that the whole apartment got really smoky when some of the hen's juices burned. We had feta/grape/herb fougasse bruschetta, a pear/blue cheese/candied almond salad, butternut squash risotto, cornish game hens, and a LOT of wine. And pernod. Hot French TA was there and I think he had a good time and he made us all go "awww" when he said, "Yes, my boyfriend is back in Paris. We talk every once in awhile using the webcam." And the lebsians were a riot, and Mark was there, and it was fantastic. Suffice it to say that aside from the joy of entertaining and camping it up, THAT we do Gay Thanksgiving and THAT people come and enjoy it is really, really important for me, and I think Christopher and Joe feel similarly.

Oooh! Ohh! I got my tickets to my husband's show in the mail on Monday! And hey, you! Write me back! I stay at home all day bawling my eyes out over our lack of daily contact.

David Brooks makes a conservative case for gay marriage.

Thank you letter to the guy who left me stranded in NYC.

New rules for Thanksgiving.

Hey Scott, read this.

2003-11-24T15:21:00.000-06:00

So I'll need to write a post about how fabulously AWESOME Gay Thanksgiving was, but I'm a little too hungover to do that right now. It will have to wait until tomorrow.

2003-11-19T17:50:00.000-06:00

I don't have time for a really long post here, since I have to run to the Reg and do a lot of reading and write a response for my Camus independent study before I watch Henry V (Scott directed it) tonight with MOLLY, WHO IS GOING TO BE HERE FROM ARIZONA. I'm so excited to see her.

Everybody is hailing the Goodridge decision, and many are saying that a court ruling that would effectively legalize gay marriage is not far down the road. And while I certainly support the ruling, I must give a nod to people who hold true to the argument that marriage serves a procreative function. I don't necessarily agree with this argument, but it's articulated well by many people, and it's been around for a really, really long time. So I'm hesitant to dismiss it out of hand as an outdated or outmoded argument. At the same time, I certainly feel that gay people, just like straight people, should have the right to marry if they so desire. But I don't know if I ever want to get married - partially because I respect the importance of the institution, and also because, like some of the radical gays, I don't know if it would work for me. I don't know if it works anymore. Now what might be required to fix it is for those who are planning on marrying to come to a greater understanding of the seriousness of the bond, but I don't know if I want to be a part of that system. It's not like it's a serious option for me right now, anyway, so there's no rush.

I also question the belief in the inevitability of such a ruling - a belief based on a progressivist notion of gay history, something that Chauncey's really started to get me to question. If there's an idea that gay people in America have gone from oppressed to less oppressed, then gay marriage would appear to be the next logical step. But I don't think it's that determined a history - it's almost like a sine wave of oppression. To go from relative openness in the WWII years to a swift crackdown in the McCarthy era to the growth of a complicated subculture in NYC to huge crackdowns in the mid-60s to Stonewall to intense political activism to all these challenges to gay rights ordinances in cities around the country in the late 70s, and so on. There's reason to hope, certainly, that the ruling brings good news with it, and the possibility of greater hope, but there's also a warning sign attached - that we must not sit back and let what we think is inevitable disappear because of yet another backward step.

Links:
"Friends of Humanity?

An article examining the burgeoning interest in J-P Sartre amongst American scholars.

Russian Dies After Winning Vodka-Drinking Contest (he drank 1.5 liters in a half hour)

Oh, and the resurrection of the UOFCSTALKER for one quick sighting:
Slightly disgraced professor Julius Kirshner, changing out of his gym clothes in the men's locker room at the Ratner Center. Boo-ya!

2003-11-18T13:08:00.000-06:00

Happy It's okay to be gay in Massachusetts and get married (sort of) day!

2003-11-18T12:15:00.000-06:00

This morning in class:
As you know, where there are sailors, there are gay men.
-George Chauncey

2003-11-16T15:20:00.000-06:00

Yet another thing: Last night Sara and I watched the video for "With You," the newest single, on Launch. I hadn't intended to watch it - it was apparently the next video in the bizarre randomization that they have on the site. It goes without saying that the song is absolute ass, but the video for the song is perhaps the most amazing video since, oh, Benny Benassi's "Satisfaction." Because of the following:
1. During the first segment, Ms. Simpson cleans house in the kitchen and struggles to operate the cleaning equipment at her disposal. She wears a white t-shirt that says "*plata*ma*pus*" on it.
2. During the second segment of the video, Ms. Simpsons sits on a couch and eats from a can of tuna.
3. During the third segment, she crouches on the floor of a hallway and proceeds to devour an entire HUGE FUCKING TRAY of buffalo wings.
4. During the final segment, she struggles to drive golf balls on her back porch.

2003-11-16T12:28:00.000-06:00

One more link: The most well-written story in the Maroon that I've ever read is about a student's difficulty returning to classes after a suicide attempt.

It's a fascinating article, and I'm really glad the paper is writing a series about this issue - something that the university tends to try and hush up. Sometimes, of course, this is done for very good reasons: respect for the dead, respect for the privacy of his/her family, issues of confidentiality, worries about copycat suicides. But the LACK of an engaged campus dialogue on the issue is something that further stigmatizes mental health issues, and further isolates students who feel so troubled as to consider suicide. The article demonizes, perhaps a little unfairly, Dean Susan Art and Director of Student Counseling and Resource Services Tom Kramer. But in doing so, because it is so specific, it opens up the administration to charges that they handle the issue of suicide, or attempted suicide, in a messy way - a change that I think is reasonable, based on the number of suicides that have taken place here since I was a first-year.

2003-11-16T12:06:00.000-06:00

I am three. Hours. Late. To work. Shit. If anything I need to get this job at the MCA so I won't have to worry about closing a building at 2 AM and then opening it up at 8 the next morning.

Speaking of which, I emailed Michael, the man who supervises this position (who I know from working there), on Thursday evening at around 5:30 to ask about the job. He emailed me back an hour and a half later to let me know that Natasha, the woman who has the position now, would be working her last day on Friday - yes, that's right, TWO days ago. So he wanted to finish up interviews early next week and would be more than happy to consider me an applicant and interview me if I could work full time BEFORE June 2004. So I was like, "oh, well, I guess I'll just miss out on this one. Then I went to my advisor's appointment on Friday to fill out my degree application (easy to do, scary to think about) and told her about the whole situation. She said, "Oh wow! Do it! Go ahead and apply." I pointed out that I thought I still had two more classes to take before I could be considered "done," and she said, "No, as long as you pass all your classes this quarter, you will have more than completed the number of courses needed for graduation. So you should really apply for this job and, if you get it, take a leave of absence for winter and spring quarters and then graduate with your class in the spring."

So that's what I'm going to do. Wow.

On Friday night I went to see A 60-Minute History of Humankind at the Neo-Futurarium. I really, really wanted to like it, because I'm a fan of every show I've seen there but one, and I think they do really interesting and well-thought work. And while there were a few good moments, and the staging was really interesting, it addled my History of Western Civilization (I, II, and III, bitch) educated brain. Aside from getting the Greeks TOTALLY wrong, simplifying Marxism by saying that it was simply about "the abolition of ALL private property," implying that the United States brought violence to Japan, and demonizing Christianity by equating Christ's command to "seek and ye shall find" with imperialism (that Christianity-hating is SO hip right now I can't deal), it was ultimately a relatively unoriginal, naive leftist take on history. Wow! Anyway, whatever.

Yesterday, of course, I worked. But I woke up, thinking it was around 11 AM, to a cloudy gray sky that made me feel like fall's full weight had finally fallen upon the city, only to realize that it was actually 1 PM. So I made myself breakfast and read and showered and, armed with my recently cashed paycheck, walked to Hyde Park's Borders. I planned to buy myself a present, a reward for getting through seven full weeks of fall quarter, and I was going to buy stellastarr*'s album after all the exhortations/threats to do so that Ryan has hurled my way. I realized how much I really LOVE 53rd St. on the walk there, though, because one guy offered to sell me socks, two people asked me to buy Streetwise, and another man asked me if I'd accepted Jesus Christ as my "personal Lord and savior." (No, but I've accepted him as my IMpersonal Lord and savior) I got to Borders unscathed and unconverted, looked up the album on their "Title Sleuth," found that it was in the store, and started searching for it. I couldn't find it. I got some help from one of the employees and, despite our best efforts, we couldn't find it. Saddened but determined to purchase something, dammit, I bought Josh Ritter's latest album, Hello, Starling, which I've been meaning to buy for awhile. It's very good! He's playing at the Old Town School of Folk Music on November 29, the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

Anyway, I think that's it for now. I'm going to drop the links now and bounce.
The Reader this week has a profile of my friend Pam's birthday party, a short take on her friend Jason's non-profit, Split Pillow, and the release of their big project, "The Cliffhanger," as well as a profile of Book Slut.

LA elects its first female governor.

Norman Mailer's son (who's looking pretty sexy) is the editor of HIGH TIMES.

2003-11-15T19:13:00.000-06:00

Fuck it dammit shit. I had a HUGE post ready to drop, and INETEXPLORER just quit on me. I'll write more tomorrow morning. Fuck.

2003-11-11T17:45:00.000-06:00

I don't feel like writing up a full post, even though I missed yesterday. I'm not in the best of moods right now (email me for details, if you like...jrquinn at uchicago dot edu).

Needless to say, Mr. Chauncey continues to amaze me with his great teaching, as well as his approachability (is that a word?). I went by his office hours and we talked about a billion different things - or, at least, as much as we can fit in 35 minutes.

There's a job opening up at The MCA. The Special Events Coordinator is a development position and is responsible for planning and executing all of the museum's annual events, member's openings, galas, and acting as a liaison to the Women's Board. It would be the perfect unification of my socialite and organizational skills. Even though I don't graduate for another seven months, I'm going to apply, especially after several conversations with some helpful people at my various jobs.

That's all for now, so I'm going to drop the links and run.

Queer Lit for Gay Teens (via Queer Day)

Queer Day also has a link to a story about Moises Kaufman's new play, I Am My Own Wife, which workshopped here in Chicago as part of About Face's 03-04 season. It's a great show. I recommend it to my NY readers - if any people in NY read this.

D'Emilio's new book is reviewed in this BOSTON GLOBE article (again, via Queer Day).

The right won the culture wars?

2003-11-09T15:17:00.000-06:00

The Internet is fun:

Do you go to Harvard?

Slate on J.M. Coetzee, my former teacher.

Slate takes on The Matrix in these two fantastic articles.

2003-11-09T10:19:00.000-06:00

Here are some photos of the "gay" towel ads that I talked about in my post from Friday. These ads ran in very popular, mainstream magazines (like Life).

From The Commercial Closet, which, given my obsession with consumerism, might be my new favorite website.

2003-11-09T09:26:00.000-06:00

Yesterday featured the first snow of Fall 2003 in Chicago. (So, it has begun) I worked until 2:30 on Friday night here at the Reynolds Club and woke up at 9:30 yesterday morning, where I worked from 12-5 to house manage Resfest, which is making its stop in Chicago at the MCA this weekend as part of its world tour. The city's been sweating this gray, cloudy, gloomy, "hey bitches, it's fall" sky lately. There were some breaks in the clouds here on the South Side, directing light towards downtown from a perilously "hey, JRQ, you're up north now" low level in the sky. As I stood on the station platform at the Garfield stop on the Red Line, listening to my husband sing "Movies of Myself," noon felt like 8 or 9 AM, and the downtown skyline looked like a painting on a dark grey background. I ran through most of the rest of the CD (as I suspected, a great CD for traveling) and tried to read John D'Emilio's Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities, but I continued to get distracted (or to distract myself?) by watching the city pass by and relishing the bizarre beauty of a rather gloomy mid-fall day. Listening to "Beautiful Child" while walking from State and Chicago to work (only about three blocks, but perfect for the length of the song), as flurries fell in the shadow of the Hancock Tower, as tourists muddle-headedly meandered about me, as I hung my head towards my chest to protect against the cold (every once in awhile gazing up to glance at the flurries make thread their way through the airways of downtown).

And someone last night asked me, "Why the hell would you want to stay in Chicago when you graduate? Move to New York."

I told him, "I feel like I'm more of a Chicagoan than a Floridian."

Last night was yet another birthday function at Funky Buddha (where the picture on my About Me page was taken, actually). This time it was for my dear friend Laura's 21st. As far as I know my birthday celebrating season is drawing to a close - everyone I know seems to have been born in October/early November OR April/early May. Anyway, Christopher and I made dinner beforehand and rushed up there so as not to have to pay the $24 (!) cover. We may well have been the first from the group there. Anyway, Laura had booked a few tables in the VIP room for us, so we sat down, smoked a few cigarettes, had a drink, chatted. The bar continued to get more and more crowded. At one point my next-door neighbor (straight) was dancing with a couple of people in the group as I was making my way to one of the couches. He said, "Jon, get the fuck out of here, you're not dancing." I took that as the challenge it was, asked him, "Do you want to see me dance?" grabbed him by the waist, turned him around, put my hands on his hips, and started "grinding" (as the kids call it) on him from behind (in spite of his protests), slowly reaching my hands towards his crotch. When I was THIS close he had finally had enough and pushed my hands away and said, "get the fuck off me." I just said, "well, you wanted me to dance," sat down, smoked another cigarette, and leered. Just before we left, Christopher and I ran to the pub across the street to buy cigarettes (there were a lot of "I only smoke when I'm drinking" people there, which meant that I was out of cigarettes in a flash). The dance floor was a solid mass of undulating bodies. People were yelling at each other and at the bouncers outside.

I realized, after we finally got out of there (we bought cigarettes and had to fight our way inside to give them to Laura), that I did not have that much fun. I mean, it was good to see my friends and I was happy to be there for Laura's birthday, but that bar was not my scene. I tried to figure out why, and Ryan hit it when he said, "I guess that's the place to go if you're a straight-o." Exactly. Exactly. Not that I didn't like it BECAUSE it was straight or BECAUSE there were no gay people there aside from him, me, and Christopher (although that was part of it), but that I simply could NOT understand the appeal of the place because I do NOT have access to the kind of perspective that the straights have. One might find, say, my next-door neighbor say the same thing if I dragged him to Roscoe's on the weekend.

Anyway, this post is longer than I thought it would be. Here are the links and I'll wrap it up:
CNN attempts an ethnography of the word "queer." They fail, but it's a relatively interesting article.

Once, a philosopher; twice, a sodomite. Ooops. I guess it's too late for me. (via ALDaily)

Are you as dumb as Jessica Simpson? Play this game and find out. (via Miu, THE socialite)

2003-11-07T22:55:00.000-06:00

I added a new link to my page, WITH A PICTURE!!!

About me!

(Thanks to Sara for the help).

2003-11-07T18:28:00.000-06:00

One more thing: in response to my status as "The Brown Line" on my "Which Chicago el line are you?" quiz (see below), someone has called me "labrador-walking, latte-sipping, NPR-listening."

Pretty much. As I've noted before to my friends, "I like gentrification. It brings nice grocery stores, upscale bars, great clothing stores, and pretty people to my neighborhood."

2003-11-07T17:58:00.000-06:00

Hello all. As Montel Jordan once said, "It's Friday night/and I'm feeling right/the party's here on the [South] Side/So I reach for my 40s and I turn it up/designated driver takes the keys to my truck."

And by that I mean, I'm working.

Not much doin' lately. As noted earlier this week, my life is slightly boring once I settle into my routine. The highlights have mostly come from my class about gay. To set the stage: Tuesday night, at gaytv dinner, Chris, Christopher, and I had an argument about what counted as sex (I was on the side of, at least for the gay, anything that reaches orgasm; Christopher believed it only counted if ejaculation occurred inside another person). Chauncey brought up the Kinsey Report and someone asked what Kinsey counted as "sex." He reached the same conclusion as I did. To mark my triumph I poked Chris, who was sitting right next to me. Without realizing it, he said, "Awww!" Everyone got quiet, stared at us, and I said, sheepishly, "We had a conversation about it on Tuesday night." Chauncey just shook his head and said, "I DON'T wanna hear about it." THEN, later in class, he was telling us about some homoerotic bath towel ads that appeared during WWII and interrupted himself to say, "You know, some of you probably have grandmothers who were alive during WWII. Next time you talk to them, ask them if they remember those ads." I raised my hand and replied, "What are we supposed to say, Mr. Chauncey? 'Hey, super-religious Grandma who lives in downstate Illinois. I'm taking a class about, well, um, stuff. Ahem. And I wanted to know if you remember those towel ads from WWII that were, you know, a little, um, funny.'" Class broke down, everyone laughed, Chauncey turned beet red and couldn't continue, trying to hid his blushing by holding up the article we were discussing and covering his face, which only led to more laughing.

On Thursday night we watched Advise and Consent, which was kind of creepy. But I have SO much fun sitting there with everyone from class and watching movies. Betty White was in it! She played a senator from Kansas! Before the main event we watched a couple of clips of Judy Garland performing. Chauncey, after they were over, said, "You see, she's obviously ridiculously drunk or on drugs during both those peformances, yet she still gets up there and gives it her all [I'm paraphrasing]. That bouncing back is one of the things gay men identified with." My friend Marcelle, who was sitting behind me, said, "kinda like Mariah Carey," to which I responded with a horrified shriek and, "Oh, NO you didn't." Chauncey looked up and asked what had happened, I told him, and he turned to Marcelle, glared, and said, "Get OUT of this room." Laughs all around.

I just received an email from my friend VA (like the state), and in honor of the Paris Hilton sex tape scandal, I thought I would share some of its content, as a way that we can memorialize her memory through our actions - much like Dan Savage has memorialized the distinguished junior Senator from Pennsylvania by using his last name to describe the "frothy mixture of semen and fecal matter that is a some-time byproduct of anal sex." Anyway, on with the show:
* there are 3 accepted definitions for "to do a Paris Hilton Shot:"
a) verb to do shots of a liquid normally used for automobile repair, ie wiper fluid, antifreeze.
b) verb to shoot alcohol directly into one's veins, preferably veins located in a "bathing suit area."
c) verb to receive a golden shower, while simultaneously shitting oneself from over-intoxication.

And, finally ladies and homos, here are the links:
Hot hot hot VANITY FAIR photos from the December profile of "gay per-view" television. (via Gawker)

This rather DUMB essay on the "pussification" of American men has been receiving a lot of attention lately. (Note to Mr. du Toit: I like my men slightly "pussified." And, dude, your name is Toit, which sounds like "twat," which is a gross way of saying "pussy.")

Yet ANOTHER NYTimes article on the rise of the man-skirt. I want one.

2003-11-05T22:31:00.000-06:00

Really quickly: I don't have time for a long post - I've got to finish Part I of The Stranger and write a response by midnight. But, in brief: Chauncey lecture on Lawrence v. Texas: fantastic. I love love love him. We (his students) got a shoutout, too. Conversation with boy: good. I sort of opened up to him. The gym: fantastic place.

And, finally, watch out, queers: The Southern Baptist Church has declared war on our agenda!

2003-11-04T18:44:00.000-06:00

This is going to be a pretty short post: I've got a fair amount of Camus to read before I head off to gaytv at 8:30. As in about 100 pages. I won't finish, but I should at least TRY to do some of it.

Six and a half weeks into a ten week quarter, I am finally starting to feel like I've established a routine. I'm making lists and managing my time well enough to manage to get to each item on the list.

Today was pretty uneventful: woke up at 8, ate breakfast, read for gay class while listening to Judy Garland, went to gay class, had lunch, read for Augustine, went to Augustine (good class today), met with boss about production managing for Little Shop of Horrors (I'm really gonna do it), came to work. That's pretty much it. See: my days are BORING when they're routine.

Instead, in the spirit of Mr. Buscher, I'm going to tell a story about my Spring Break 2001. I went with a few friends on what could only be called a Ghetto Lake Michigan Circle Tour: Chicago to Flint, MI, to Detroit, and then to the Upper Peninsula towns of Marquette and Houghton. When we were in Marquette, home to someone we knew at Northern Michigan University, we drove away from the town of 40,000 people to hang out in the woods and watch the stars and drink rum. I guess we drove three, maybe four miles outside of town, and then drove the car another mile or so into the woods. While it was Spring Break, it's still in the northern part of this country, and it's still the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We managed to miss a lot of the snow, and the temperature was in the low 40s, but only a week before a huge snowstorm had dumped many feet of the white stuff on the town and woods around Marquette - much of which had melted away. A thick layer remained, though, for us to drive over into the woods in our Chevy Beretta (remember that car?). We spent a couple hours or so sitting in this snow-covered clearing in the woods, staring at the expansive night sky, feeling a little cold, and musing about the creepiness of woods in general.

When we decided to leave, the car wouldn't move. It had gotten stuck in the snow. We tried pushing it while accelerating. We tried picking it up and pushing it. We dug at the snow around the tires. We tried all of these things many times. Meanwhile, my friends and I began to realize a few things: 1) none of us had a cell phone; 2) we were miles away, as far as we knew, from the nearest place of habitation; 3) we're in the middle of the fucking woods; 4) the Upper Peninsula is where all of Michigan's prisons are. It was a very Blair Witch moment. Everyone became so nerve-wracked that we stopped talking to each other - every sentence that came out of anyone's mouth was an angry accusation. We kept digging at the car's wheels. We used our hands and we used a piece of metal pipe that Sam had started to weld into a sword. Held from the bottom, it also looked like a cross.

After digging and digging and digging and not talking and not talking and not talking, we saw two lights round the corner on the path we had driven into the woods. We all immediately stopped digging and waited, amazed at the possibility of rescue but at the same time worried that these might, indeed, be the serial killers dispatched to do us in. The lights stopped moving toward us. Two of the guys started walking toward the now-stationary car. The lights began to recede and my two friends tried their best to run after it, but the car was too fast for them.

After awhile we began to realize that a group of people digging at a car with a cross, dressed in dark clothing, in the middle of a clearing in the middle of nowhere at about 2 AM on a Saturday night, might have been just as intimidating to the people in the approaching car as they were to us.

We eventually gave up and set off walking in the general direction of the highway with only the light of the moon and its reflection off the snow to guide us. We figured that we would start walking back on the two-lane highway towards Marquette, knock on the door of the first house we passed, and pray they would let us in and use the phone. I hadn't even realized we had hit the highway until I felt the asphalt underneath my feet. We started walking towards Marquette and eventually decided to hedge our bets with Upers and hitchhike back to town, if the opportunity presented itself. The first car that drove by stopped: a two door Buick coupe driven by a man who, while more than willing to drive us back to town, was obviously drunk. While I sat talking to him, trying to stall, my friends got a flatbed truck to stop. I thanked the drunk dude, told him the truck would be best because there was room for all of us in the bed.

At about 3:30 AM, we made it back to Marquette, sore, exhausted, dirty. I congratulated my newly found masculinity and ability to face incredibly creepy situations ("I can't WAIT to tell my dad!" was all I could think while falling asleep) and also promised my psyche that I would never, ever leave the city again.

The next morning Sam and Hallie drove back out to the woods in Hallie's car to wait for a tow truck to get Sam's car pulled from the woods. While they were parked on the side of the road, waiting for the truck to get there, a state police officer pulled up, asked them if they were having any trouble, and, upon hearing that they were only waiting for a tow truck, pulled a picture of a boy out of his pocket and asked, "Have you seen this kid? He's been missing for a few days and we're looking for him."

I'm never going to the woods again.

Three announcements:
1. You: I watched the video for stellastarr*'s "In the Walls."
2. You: lied to me. I know now that President Clinton was never at the BF show.
3. My friend Naomi just told me that she and her friends decided that I reminded them of Mr. Chauncey. I told her that's the best thing anyone's ever said to me. I can now die a happy man.

Links:
Coming out is still not easy! (via Queer Day)

Mimi's back and she's got baby pictures.

The gay world's all a-twitter because Tom Ford is leaving Gucci. (Don't tell anyone it's because he's moving to Chicago to be with me)

2003-11-03T22:32:00.000-06:00

An addition to today's post:
At present I'm reading "Judy Garland and Gay Men" by Richard Dyer for Chauncey's class. I'm also listening to my husband's commentary to "14th Street." I finish up the first page of the article right as he says, "And here comes another Judy Garland reference."

Again, far too gay.

2003-11-03T20:43:00.000-06:00

I just got to work - earlier tonight I had dinner with George Chauncey and a few other people from class. It was so fun! A pretty good mix of people, too - a lesbian couple, a straight boy, a first-year gay boy, a gay Republican, and me - the dowager empress. Great conversation, mostly about the gay and the changes in the gay for ourselves and on a broader cultural context. I wish I could do it every Monday.

In that class on Thursday, we discussed the butch/femme dichotomy. My friend Chris (a junior member of the gay mafia) leaned over to me at a certain point in the discussion and whispered, "Oh my God. This is SO like the opening voiceover in Madonna's 'What it feels like for a girl.'" We tittered/giggled in agreement and I realized that I am too gay even for my class about gay.

As per Mr. Buscher's request, I am hereby linking to Upside-Down Hippo. You'll find a new link to the left.

You need to realize that he is MY husband. And I will fight you for him.

So, Sarah McLachlan is releasing a new album tomorrow. I've been watching the video for "Fallen" almost nonstop here in the basement, as much as I am slightly ashamed to admit it. And then I realized - like Aimee Mann, she is a central part of my gay high school angst music.

Wow, this post is overflowing with gay. I guess it's kind of been on my mind lately ("It's always on your mind," you might say, and I would react with a screech of horror and offense). Gene Robinson, boys, the class, the approach of Gay Thanksgiving, new episodes of Queer Eye starting November 18.

So I guess I'll hit you with the links and bounce:

A fantastic article from Zadie Smith about the ethical place of the novel. She pays particular attention to EM Forster, whose Maurice was one of the best gay books I've read.

This rather fluffy piece of travel writing about Chicago includes some stuff about The MCA.

I'm a big fan of the girls over at Madpony

2003-11-02T20:22:00.000-06:00

AP Photos from the consecration of Gene Robinson.

One of the photos in the 30s is of a supporter holding up a sign that says, "God is love."

Indeed.

2003-11-02T18:23:00.000-06:00

I just purchased a ticket to see my husband perform at The Vic on December 6. Yum, yum.

2003-11-01T09:07:00.000-06:00

It's another Saturday morning, another shift at the Reynold's Club. I'm finally feeling a little bit better - to the point where I drank, and drank a considerable amount last night. Dinner for Dave's birthday at Deleece (Irving Park and Southport, for all you Chicagoans, and GO, because it's AMAZING). I had butternut sqash soup ("thank GOD it was pureed!"), boneless breast of chicken over lemon pepper large cous-cous in a red pepper pesto, and pumpkin cake with cinnamon ice cream. And a lot of wine. And some Stoli. Then we went to the Ginger Man afterward and I had chartreuse and a peach stoli and sprite. Heidi, for once the sober one, drove back to Hyde Park and I lolled about in the backseat looking at the skyline, making Dave change CDs to fit my mood and musing about boys. Or at least one boy in particular.

When I got home I was planning on going to bed, but I called Christopher before I went to sleep and he talked me into going out again. I was going to go to a party towards which most of the world seemed to be streaming, and then suddenly streaming away from, with mutters about the cops. So we CROSSED THE MIDWAY (yikes!) and went to a party at my old roommate's new place in Woodlawn.

I did not get dressed up - aside from looking dashing as all hell in my newly-distressed-by-cheese-grater jeans, my blazer, and my pink shirt. I wanted to get a blonde bob wig and tool about with my cigarette holder, but no luck.

I guess I should quit now and accept my yuppie future:

You are the brown line. Inevitably, you are in a
hurry to get somewhere, because you are so gosh
darn important. Wouldn't want to be late for
Tae Bo, would we? Aw, don't feel insulted. It's
not worth crying over spilt venti mocha latte.

Which Chicago 'El' line are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

What have I been up to since we last talked, blogosphere? Well, like I said last time, I've been sick. I'm feeling pretty okay this morning, but last Saturday I woke up feeling pretty icky and, at project day at UT I ran up and down the hallways, screaming that I had contracted meningitis from the 40-year old who grabbed my ass at Showtunes two Mondays ago. I didn't die, so it was just a pretty bad cold - I was only AWAKE for six hours on Sunday, didn't go to the gym Monday OR Wednesday, and was disoriented as all hell by all the people and cars that I saw while I was making my way to campus all day this week. But I actually, seriously, took care of myself - limited myself to one, maybe two cigarettes a day, no drinking, more fluids than Lake Michigan, and lots of sleep. And you ALL REALLY CARE ABOUT MY health regime.

I finished reading Michael Cunningham's A Home at the End of the World on Thursday night. Reading the book made me think of you. It was good company for my sickness. Very, very good. Almost made me cry several times, but me crying is nothing new.

One of the best few phrases in an email I've ever gotten, from my friend Molly in Arizona: "how are you? are you feeling better? did you have a cold? colds are the worst. i would bring you soup if i didn't live approx v. far away."

Permit me to indulge in some senior-in-college dramatics. I was standing at the sink in my apartment, doing dishes, when I started to realize that soon, I will no longer live in that apartment. And then I thought: I don't know in what apartment I'll be living in next year. And then: I don't know even where I'll be living next year. And then: I don't even know what I'll be doing next year. And then, instead of "Shitohmyfuckingchrist I have no future:" Wow. I could live ANYWHERE. And do ANYTHING. Because I'm effectively dropping all the responsibility come June 04. (One hopes I will pick up more in the form of a job, but eh)

And I am working on a boy. That's all I'm going to say.

Megan from About Face came and lead a workshop for my training weekend a few weeks back. It was her third year. The theater's mission is something along the lines of using theater to investigate and explore questions of gender and sexuality - it's not the only, but it's the best, queer theater in Chicago. They have an amazing youth initiative. Anyway, they're doing a show at my old work, the MCA, in December. It's going to be holiday themed. So when Megan came, she used their story-telling method to have us tell stories about the holidays. I told the story of when I came out to my mother the day after Thanksgiving of my senior year in high school (almost four years, wow). Anyway, Megan wants to use it for the show, which is pretty exciting. We had a thirty-minute long phone conversation about it over the phone yesterday. It was a bit jarring - it's not like it's that big a deal anymore, and precisely BECAUSE of that I don't really talk about it. But I did.

I'm watching the video for "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight" by The Postal Service right now.

Skirts for boys! (yay!)

Today is a beautiful day: Gene Robinson will be consecrated as an Episcopalian bishop.

Ben Folds is coming to campus and I have a comp!

2003-10-27T12:31:00.000-06:00

I know, I know - it's been a long time. But NOW I'm sick. So I'm at work, but I'm going to go home soon and curl up on the couch, remote in hand, for self-pity, the Simpsons, and GAYNY.

2003-10-19T17:46:00.000-05:00

Everyone: go read this article, written by a mother about her son's coming out, NOW!

2003-10-18T09:32:00.000-05:00

My long-awaited return to the blogosophere, or whatever the hell the kids are calling it these days, has arrived. I was going to wait until tomorrow, since Marriage Protection Week will officially be over then, but it's just after 9 AM on a Saturday morning, I've slept for three and a half hours, and I'm at work. And will be here until 5, at which point I have to go to the MCA to house manage. And I have been, I should add, invited to no less than four (4) parties tonight. And Lincoln and Brandy are bartending at Jimmy's, so I have to stop by. Especially because on Thursday night I let Brandy borrow my husband's album.

It's tough, dears, being a socialite.

And...I just had a startling realization that there are certain things I should never discuss, under any circumstances, with some people, and possibly everyone. I am not, I should say, an unusually private person. At the same time, though, I also avoid creating and/or getting involved in my own drama. Of course I LOVE other peoples' drama. But at a certain point I become incredibly private (hey there, personal space issues) and I can't deal with other peoples' drama AT ALL. My boss and I have discussed this - how certain things are not everybody's bid-ness. So, lately (as in the past year or two), I've been more careful about who I really, truly open up to. But sometimes I forget.

So, my week? Well, it feels like forever ago. I would tell the story about my Saturday night last week, but most everyone has heard it about a million times. Suffice it to say I felt all second-year again, and was accosted by two guys asking for a cigarette, one of whom called me "a very influential U of C student" and then told me about his affinity for anal sex with women. Then I witnessed a guy run across the street and slide across the hood of a car.

Tuesday, N/A LCS (whichever one the Cubs are in?)
My apartment, appx. 11 PM
ROOMMATE: Oh my God, Jon, did you watch the game?
ME: Uh, oh. No, I didn't.
ROOMMATE: OH MY GOD, how could you not? It was, like, an amazing game!
ME: Dude, it's Tuesday night. GayTV, you know?
ROOMMATE: Wait, so you didn't watch the Cubs game, you watched Queer Eye instead?
ME: GayTV stops for nothing.
ROOMMATE: Well, you missed a great game. Was it a good episode at least?
ME: Well, it was a repeat, but it was a good one, definitely.
ROOMMATE gives a puzzled and judgmental look
ME: What? I told you, GAYTV STOPS FOR NOTHING!

My workouts at the Rat have been going incredibly well lately, but my shower experience there on Monday left me slightly traumatized. I can't quite comfortably straddle that "two steps from an orgy, two steps from a hate crime" feeling I get whenever I walk into the locker room.

Christopher and I had a very grandma/grandpa night last night. We determined, once and for all, that we are old souls/spirits, and really we just need to spend the rest of our days drinking pernod and watching the drag queens sing away at Gentry. We met up at around 8, ostensibly to go up to Landmark, watch Mambo Italiano at Landmark, eat, and then go out dancing. We didn't make it to the movie, went to La Creperie, where some cute kid told Christopher he was a "great smoker," and then slowly made our way to Roscoe's, which was hot, gross, and full of not-very-attractive boys.

We even have names for each other. He's Harold, I'm Agnes.

PS- I'm totally crushing on Sebastian, the French graduate fellow who's sitting in on my class about gay.

2003-10-10T13:44:00.000-05:00

In honor of Marriage Protection Week 2003, National Coming Out Day, the fifth anniversary of the murder of Matthew Shepard, the beginning of Domestic Partnership Registration in Cook County, IL, and Gay History Month, I will not be blogging next week. I'll see you in mid-October.

2003-10-09T13:07:00.000-05:00

TWO THINGS:

1. If you have nothing to do tonight, play the Democratic Presidential Debate Drinking game!

2. An open letter to all U of C students and faculty:
Please, for the love of God, stop using the verb "to strike" in any of its conjugations: struck, striking, and so on. That is all.

Sincerely,
Jon Ryan Quinn
Total Bitch

2003-10-08T23:42:00.000-05:00

Marriage Protection Week is not just a White House initiative. I haven't had a chance to look through this website completely, but it's a bit shocking.

Everyone who reads this: PLEASE post something about this on your site. Get the word out. I want to see this shit on Gawker or The Kicker.

2003-10-08T21:32:00.000-05:00

76. The number of trombones in THE MUSIC MAN and the number of U of C Nobels. Rockin.

My left hand is a little injured right now, so this might be a short post. Yesterday while quartering tomatoes for GAYTVdinner I sliced into my hand. And today, while rushing out of admissions to sneak food from the Dean's secret stash, I slammed my index finger into a door. Baby's hurt!

Evelyn seems to think she's the only person who hasn't seen a famous person since Proof started filming on campus. I haven't either. Although I haven't been looking. But really, Jakey, Gwynny, and Tony should be coming to me. I'm actually way so over the filming. At first it was cool, then it was a little intense, and now they're just in the way. On Monday they actually shut off an entire quadrangle to traffic, and it caused massive clusterfucks during class changes. Did anyone let those folks know that this is a school and not a movie location? I was just annoyed until they got in MY way when I went into Swift Hall, the divinity school, to get lunch from the coffee shop there and had to WAIT to leave the shop until they finished filming a scene. Although I did walk past the benches that the famous people got to use. Oh, and readers: when you go see the movie, every scene that's supposed to be in Eckhart, the math building, was actually shot in Swift Hall, the div school.

Today there's an AIDS Awareness study break in Hutch Commons and The Organization of Latin American Students is sponsoring a spoken-word open mic in the C-Shop. It's apparently Latin American Heritage Month. Rawr. There is some cute Latin culture up there. Some very, very nice asses.

Ahem. Excuse me. I mean...

The Beyonce CD has definitely brightened my workout experience.

U OF C STALKER (WOOHOO):
- From Sara: Saw Anthony Hopkins standing outside my div school class on Tuesday. He was talking to one of the other students in the class and said that it sounded like an "interesting" class.
- Parker saw Gwyneth and Chris Martin of Coldplay.
- Someone else told me he saw Gwyneth's body doubles hanging about.
- "I saw an unsuspecting first year arguing with the Korean bible study guy that hangs out on the quad."
- And finally, Nobel Laureate J. M. Coetzee walking across the quadrangle the day he received his award, looking slightly pleased with himself (this is from me).

2003-10-07T17:33:00.000-05:00

Five years ago today, two young men beat and tied Matthew Shepard, a gay college student in Laramie, Wyoming, to a fence. He later died.

October is Gay History Month.

Next week, during Marriage Protection Week, is National Coming-Out Day.

Thank you, President Bush, for caring.

2003-10-06T17:54:00.000-05:00

Thank God SOMEONE'S watching out for marriage.

(Toby's response is particularly illuminating)