Either he’s been kidnapped or he doesn’t have the nerve to start that Final Conversation, because there hasn’t been any response to my messages. I have a pretty good idea which of the two it is. I’m sad, because I thought we may have been on to something. He was scared for the same reason. Or maybe it was the both-of-us-having-the-same-name thing. Who knows? Yeesh! Kids these days!
Author: Dan Rhatigan
Interior Decorating Triumphs
In happier news, I finally have pictures to show what the Rumpus Room looks like furnished. Loyal readers have probably seen the unfurnished version, but you can now see what I’ve done with the place during the last year. (Just so you know, I only made a very half-assed attempt to color-correct these photos. You’ll have to come visit to get the full effect.)


Cubealicious
I wanna have sex with the new Apple G4 cube. It’s THAT unbelievably droolworthy. Not a single analog part in the whole damn thing. No fan. Only 8 inches high and wide. Did Wallpaper* finance the design of this or something?
The Ugly Truth
Despite what you may think, things are not very glamorous here in the Rumpus Room. After reading Tim’s theory that we designers work in incredibly pristine areas, and then going to look at the impossibly sexy Apple G4 Cube, I took a look at myself and my desk. This is the sad truth about why I don’t want a webcam recording me (not for the squeamish):
- I sit here in boxer shorts, black socks, and a Hanes t-shirt, because I never bothered to put other clothes back on after stripping off my office wear today. My eyes were hurting, so I’m wearing my glasses which are held together with a dab of hot glue in one of the hinges. sexy!
- I am slaving away at my old and dusty PowerMac 6500, which rises out of a heap of junk on my desk. I have just enough room to place a glass of Coke and a plate of cheese and crackers to have for dinner while I work. The pile of junk includes a stack of bills I am ignoring, marked-up proofs of a few jobs I’m doing, bunches of Polaroids, all the mail I’ve gotten in the last two months, and nail clippers to use during long downloads. sleek!
- I have a stool made from a bicycle seat next to my desk chair. The stool prevents me from walking over the weak spot in the floor that is about to collapse, because I don’t want to step in the dirt floor below the rotting plywood. Glamorous!
- I look over the top of the laptop I use for all of my porno…er, journal-writing, and I see a pile of previously worn pants and shorts growing on top of my dresser. This is next to the pile of dirty laundry on the floor, which sits there because I haven’t removed last week’s clean laundry from the laundry bag yet. That is sitting in the middle of the TV-watching area, by the Chinese take-out menus. sophisticated!
- I can hear the whispers of the dust bunnies as they grow in size, strength, and number. Send help if you I ever disappear altogether. Swanky!
- And I don’t even want to get started on the biological disaster area that is my kitchen.
This, That, Other Things
Oh god, it’s happening again. I’ll warn you all right now — you won’t be hearing much from me for a while. This is not a vacation from dealing with the website, this is just a hunch that I’m going to be sitting in my uncomfortable deskchair sweating bullets for a few days while I try to crank out a few projects before deadline. Here’s a few topics for you to mull over and e-mail me about in the meanwhile:
- I suspected that X-Men wasn’t really that good a movie, but I was so pleased that didn’t fuck it up as much as they could that I wound up really enjoying it. Plus, they got Wolverine right, which was the most important thing in the movie. How much, though, did you have to choke back YOUR nerdy instincts because of the ways they played fast and loose with the continuity of the comic book? (For example, why were Iceman and Jubilee students at the same time in the movie? Why, the very idea…!)
- New York may not be the best city in the world in everyone’s eyes, but it has its perks. I was riding the Metro in Washington, D.C., yesterday morning, and everyone just looked so boring. Hardly anyone cute or funky or insane in sight. What fun is that?
- Is it the jinx effect that’s making my life so aggravating right now?
- I caught about ten minutes of Sex in the City this weekend, a sequence in which Miranda and her impossibly sexy (because of the dork factor that I love so much) boyfriend and she were talking about the number of sexual partners they had. that’s always a thorny issue to bring up with people you date, isn’t it? I always worry that if I tell I may come across as a total trashcan, or some prude who’s passed up even more opportunities than I took. Not that I worry so much about what people think on this issue, but I have my own conflicted notions about whether or not I’ve been too free-wheeling over the last few years. Sometimes I think I have, but more often than that I just regret all the chances I’ve passed up over the years because I was feeling too prudish or too unattractive or too shy.
The Midsummer Round-Up
Woo Hoo! 11 days into July and I finally post! Yes, it’s true. I’m not dead. Hell, I haven’t even been assuming that anyone would notice. If I were really desperate for attention, I might pull a stunt like this, but thankfully I’m not.
I’ve had friends in town for the last couple of weeks, keeping me entertained as I finished up a huge project or two, so there’s been plenty of fun. And plenty of media consumption. some highlights:
- Chicken Run saw it, liked it an awful lot, have sworn once again that Jane Horrocks will always make me happy and that Imelda staunton will never get all the respect that she deserves in this country.
- Eddie agreed with me that Tony Shalhoub is one of the most underrated actors in Hollywood today. I can’t think of a single performance of his I haven’t loved.
- Decline of Western Civilization, Part III saw it, thought it was great, realized once again that I was never angry enough to make a good punk. Of course, the kids interviewed in it seem more lost and apathetic than angry, but that made for a lot of interesting moments, believe it or not. The bands seemed angry, but the kids seemed like they were too beaten down to be that angry anymore. It was a nice take on the scene, focusing on the kids more than the music this time around. Very sad, and also very funny. It remended me, though, of how sexy I find those punk rock guys, even the crusty ones.
- P.S. 1 is my new favorite place on earth. seriously. Great artwork, incredible building, no crowds. I want to live there. If you come to visit New York, let me know and I will drag you out to Long Island City so you can see it for yourself. If you come before september we can even try out the outdoor sauna.
- I read the new issue of Paul Baker’s Handbag! Completely hilarious and brilliant, as ever. Paul, I still want to spend the rest of my life with you. Being best friends is fine, if that’s all I can get.
Oh yeah, I also managed to knock out a complete and total redesign of UltraSparky in a few moments of spare time.
Apathy
Screw it, I’m just too busy to sit down and write anything long and funny or deep or whatever. I’ll get around to it. But I’ll show y’all a whole stack of mini-Polaroids once I’m back up and running.
Always Be Prepared
As if I didn’t have enough to do already, I decided to throw together a wee little something about the whole Boy Scouts brouhaha, with a few reference materials pulled from my vast archive of fun stuff.
First, an excerpt from a Boys Scouts of America guide to physical fitness, ©1968:
Another subject about which there is much misinformation is homosexuality. This term is generally used to describe a fixed adult pattern of behavior in which an individual is sexually attracted only to members of his own sex. Many boys before they become interested in girls develop strong friendships with other boys. This is perfectly normal and will lead to many strong friendships for the rest of their lives. It does not mean they are homosexuals or are not manly or will not develop an interest on girls. As they grow and widen their circle of friends and activities, they will become attracted to the opposite sex. If a young man has any questions about this area of friendship, he should certainly consult his parents and spiritual adviser for guidance.
There’s been a lot of hullaballoo about the Supreme Court’s ruling that supports the right of the Boys scouts of America to exclude gays from the organization. Despite my inherent belief that gays should be able to do whatever the hell anyone else can do, I must admit that I’m with the Supreme Court on this one. If the Boy Scouts are willing to stand by the idea that the right to exclude homosexuals from membership is a central part of their mission and their ideological foundation, then they should have the right to do so. The flip side to this is that they have to take a situation that they would probably prefer to ignore and make it a central part of their ideological foundation.
I hope the scouts do make this a big issue, but I really hope that people have the good sense to take them to task for making exclusion — rather than acceptance — a central part of their mission. I hope this is something that forces to the scouts to reevaluate what it is they’re doing. scout literature talks a lot about upholding ethical and community standards, but the organization is acting as if those standards are static, and not subject to evolution or variation from place to place. That’s crap. I wonder if something like this happened to Jewish scouts at some point. I wonder if the scouts will change this as homophobia continues to erode in this country. I wonder if this will cause a splintering of the organization as people involved at the local level who believe in the more humanistic ideals of the organization decide to stand by the gay people they know. I wonder.
I don’t really have anything against the Boy Scouts, except for their reactionary stance on this particular issue. I was a Cub Scout for two years, and I thought it was pretty lame. But I know other guys — gay and straight alike — who had a number of good experiences with the scouts, and think they are better for having joined them. (As a matter of fact, I know guys who had a number of good sexual experiences in the Boy Scouts. Will they have to institute a “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy? I wonder.) But I think that now’s the time to ask if the scouts are really doing such good work if their idea of preparing young men to be good citizens is to just out those who don’t agree with them. Or who might — heaven forbid — help them live up to part of their own Oath: “A scout is a friend to all. He is a brother to other scouts. He seeks to understand others. He respects those with ideas and customs other than his own.”
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Chelsea’s Future
In the future, according to Titan A.E., all that will remain of Earth’s culture will be cargo pants, muscle shirts, and homo archetypes. I know this movie was manufactured specifically for 12-year-olds, so I wasn’t expecting quality, but I was genuinely surprised to see how well they managed to make the hero into a Chelsea muscle twink and make the villain character into his pseudo-butch Chelsea-daddy type. There wasn’t much romantic subtext, thankfully, but I swear that the characters were drawn from pictures taken from circuit-party snapshots. I couldn’t stop giggling.
Gay Shame
It’s Homo Overload…whoops, I mean Gay Pride Week here in New York, so I guess it’s only fitting that I chime in on the subject. But before I do, I just want y’all to think about this question posed by the Paris ACT UP chapter: “Proud of what?”
Gay Pride doesn’t inspire any particular pride in me. In fact, it makes me cringe with embarrassment and loathing. Not the idea of it, but the actual event in all its glitzy, our-way-or-the-highway madness. I don’t even know where to begin. (Paul Baker’s Burn Your Jockstrap site articulates my frustrations with gay culture much better than I ever could, anyway, so go look at that.) The homos are pretty homogenous — at least within each of their cliques — and it irritates me that there’s a parade to prove it.
The thing to keep in mind is that I love being gay. I mean, there’s no question about it. I’m really, really gay. And yes, I’m proud of it. I don’t mean that I’m a prancing nancy, or a pumped-up pretty boy, or straight-acting bear (all of which are terms that could be used to describe people I love). I’m Sparky. I am, among other things, an enthusiatic lover of other fellas. And goddamn I’m proud of that! It’s a part of me, and a pretty significant part, one which influences a lot of the other parts.
Coming out wasn’t a huge dilemma for me, even though I did it at the ripe old age of 21. I did it when the time was right for me, when I had the insight and energy to deal with that aspect of life. No trauma, just a couple of awkward conversations. But to get to that point, I had to figure out some stuff about my life and the world around me, and that’s good. If I weren’t gay, I may not have thought as much about what makes me the person I am. I’m proud that I had to ask myself difficult questions, and proud that I sorted out some sort of direction in a sea of conflicting opinions. I’m proud that I chose for myself what I want, and didn’t hold myself to what my folks or my school or my friends naturally assumed would be the way things worked.
I didn’t shut off that way of thinking when I confronted gay culture, which is why I get so incensed by this feeling that the so-called gay counter-culture would, if it could, impose the same kind of rigorous expectations on me as the so-called mainstream. screw it. I’m not any more likely to go to the gym to beef up my tits than I am to marry the girl next door and settle down in a house in Nutley, New Jersey, or shoot heroin in a crack den. I said “no” to all that. And I don‘t wish to be told I’m a loser for not making any one of those things a priority.
For me, gay pride is an everyday fact of life. An excuse to say, “That’s me, dig it or ditch it,” just like any other aspect of myself. I don’t want to be like every other gay person in the world, especially not if they’re trying to be just like everyone else (except, of course, for more inherently fabulous because they’re gay). If I were to let that happen, I’d be a whole let less Sparky, wouldn’t I?