October | 2011 | Exile on Pain Street

The Great Gay White Way.

I saw a fantastic new play at the Roundabout Theater. Sons of the Profit is still in previews and it’ll be interesting to see what the critics say once it opens. I always like to have my opinion validated by the professionals, although sometimes it works the other way around. I loved Enron but it closed the week after it opened. What do I know?

Sons of the Profit is a well-written and superbly acted comedy/drama. Some of the plot elements regarding an aging family member in declining health hit a little too close to home for comfort, but most of it was very funny with a whip-smart script by Stephan Karam. I’d like to see it again to catch the punchlines I missed.

Here’s what concerns me: There was a gay make-out scene, which typically isn’t a big deal. But I suddenly found myself surprisingly uncomfortable watching two dudes paw at each other. This discomfort came out of nowhere! I’ve seen the original production of Angels in America and many other gay librettos and never gave this sort of thing a second thought. But this time, it pulled me out of the story and made me want to thumb through my Playbill until the scene ended.

Does that mean I have latent homophobic tendencies? Because all of a sudden I don’t want to watch two guys make-out? I hope not! (Two girls making out is a completely different matter.) I reject the notion that it makes me uncomfortable because I might actually BE gay. All those decades in Manhattan afforded me plenty of opportunities to experiment, but it never interested me. I told one of my gay friends what happened and he suggested, in all seriousness, that I watch a bunch of gay porn to “desensitize” myself. What an idiot.

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Speaking of gay theater, Mrs. Wife and I saw Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. I won tickets in a trivia contest. I’ll see pretty much anything for free.

priscilla1 It seems mean spirited to say anything bad about it. It tries so hard to be a happy, crowd-pleasing show, but I’m not the target audience. I’m not big into musicals and the songs played throughout the show are the big disco hits that, when played on the radio, cause me to turn the station. So, IF you like drag queens to the 10th power and IF It’s Raining Men makes you want to wave your hands above your head and IF you like to see what a costume designer’s acid trip looks like, you’ll love this show. The best part of the evening was being out with my lovely bride on her birthday, who seemed to enjoy herself tremendously.

Sitting next to us was a woman who brought her two children. By children, I mean they were so young that in order to see the stage, they needed those plastic booster seats that theaters keep on hand. This is NOT a show for toddlers! What the fuck is wrong with people? I wonder if mommy had to explain why the woman was shooting ping pong balls out of her vagina into the audience or why the man was wearing a silver panties and a bra ensemble?

HOMOPHOBE!

For the past year, I’ve written a monthly column over at the Undie Press on collecting rare books. Specifically, I tried to convey why certain authors got under my skin and how I obtained some of the more rare pieces in my library. The quality of the column was uneven but overall I am pleased with the results. Having a monthly column taught me that a deadline can suck all the joy out of writing.

This month will be my final column. Undie Press is moving towards more traditional long-form publishing (as opposed to monthly bits and bites). Also, I’ve pretty much exhausted the subject of egomaniacally prattling on about my books.

Explicit warning: This last column contains nudity and sexual situations. Hence, it is one of my best. I’m glad to go out on a high note. Bukowski’s Admirers is about how literary fame changed an alcoholic, pock-marked Charles Bukowski into an object of desire.

Many thanks to Tim Hall, Undie Press editor and publisher extraordinaire, for the opportunity.