Saw a guy walking his turtle in Central Park yesterday.
That was a new one.
Rise of the Daddies: A New (and Sexy) Gay Niche →
To that end, there is such a thing as a femme daddy. Look at Elton John. Nathan Lane in The Nance. Or watch Michael Douglas as Liberace (somewhere in gay heaven, that glorious gay icon is giddy that he got to have sex with Matt Damon). These are men who own their queeny side but are, somehow, unquestionably daddy. Sure, they are all rich, but they are also confident and powerful. Daddy Warbucks in a caftan.
Loving this cultural discussion of the “daddy” label.
Yeah, respect my trendsetting abilities. Once that happens, everyone wins. The world wins; fresh kids win; creatives win; the company wins. I think what Kanye West is going to mean is something similar to what Steve Jobs means. I am undoubtedly, you know, Steve of Internet, downtown, fashion, culture. Period. I’ve been connected to the most culturally important albums of the past four years, the most influential artists of the past ten years. You have like, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Henry Ford, Howard Hughes, Nicolas Ghesquière, Anna Wintour, David Stern. I understand culture. I am the nucleus.
Highs and lows of the work day
High: Leaving a message for Jimmy Buffett’s publicist in the hopes I could interview him for the magazine. Imagining us connecting over hilarious stories from my childhood involving his music and impressing him with my knowledge of his books/music/life and him finding me witty and fun and inviting me to the VIP section of his Jones Beach concert and wearing a parrothead costume and going backstage and us becoming best friends and flying to Jamaica together to party and sing “Songs You Know By Heart” for weeks on end on sailboats.
Low: Publicist calls back and says he doesn’t do interviews and hasn’t for years.
Some British boys threw a bucket at me tonight.
I left work at 7:40 and walked from 51st and 5th over to 11th Ave, all the way down to 14th, past people partying on boats and couples kissing on the grass and a piano set up in the middle of the harbor with people singing along to “An Ordinary Sunday Morning,” past a glorious sunset on the water, then back to 6th Ave and the L train till I was finally back in Williamsburg.
Suddenly I was on my way to The Gutter, a Greenpoint bar where Shadi had lined up to celebrate Sailor Jerry’s 102nd birthday by getting a free tattoo by throwing a dart at a board that had various sailor-esque artwork like stars, cherries and anchors. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which he got.
We drank Brooklyn Summer Ales and the people-watching got better and better. A guy with pink and leopard print glasses asked me which tattoo I was getting. I said I didn’t plan on it. I was judged.
I bid adieu to Shadi before he got his tattoo, trying to be a responsible adult and go home at a reasonable hour on a Wednesday night. I started the ten minute walk, but not far along three very drunk boys ahead of me had found a large bucket and were unceremoniously launching it at each other.
I listened to them yell and slur at each other in their British accents. I watched quietly. I did not switch to the other side of the street. Finally one of them saw me approaching. “Let the lady pass, boys,” he stammered. I held my hands out defensively. “Please don’t throw a bucket at me,” I said. “Very nice bum!” they yelled as I walked by.
No more than 20 seconds had passed when I heard the bucket clanging loudly a few feet behind me. They had indeed thrown it at me. I turned back, gave a disapproving stare, and walked on. As a New Yorker of sorts, this is all the energy I can muster up for these incidents now.
One of them caught up with me. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “You threw a bucket at me,” I said. “I didn’t!” he said. “I would never.” “Okay… goodnight.”
It’s too bad they threw a bucket at me. All three of them were quite fit, as the Brits would say, and I would have invited them down to the pub to drink to the Queen if they hadn’t been such bloody wankers, but I had to tell them to bugger off.
Edward Snowden was my nerdy high school dream. I hope he considered that these photos would surface before the big leak.
