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A walk up Emerson St.

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… in Palo Alto, this morning, for breakfast with Elizabeth Daingerfield Zwicky. Which took me past a fitness club that closed down a while back, but is now in the process of being replaced by an even trendier sort of fitness club, Rumble Boxing; to the Palo Alto Creamery for breakfast, where I picked up the weekend edition of the Peninsula Daily Post; which had a front-page story on the fate of the artwork Digital DNA, originally installed just a bit further up Emerson St.

Rumble Boxing. This will lead us to extraordinarily muscled shirtless young men, as objectified by young women on the on-line publication PopSugar.

Rumble Boxing, which advertises itself as providing “boxing-inspired group fitness classes”, started in NYC a few years ago, and has now spread to (at least) Philadelphia, San Francisco, and Los Angeles — and, coming soon, Palo Alto. The SF location (180 Sansome St Suite 100):

(#1)

Then, from PopSugar site, the 3/16/17 piece “These Sweat-Covered Boxing Trainers Will Motivate You to Work Out Today” by Victoria Messina:


(#2) Noah Douglas Neiman, a cofounder of Rumble Boxing, with a Rumble punching bag and I Can’t Believe They’re Real abs,  in NYC

We’ve decided to present you with the Sexy Men of Rumble Boxing — a handful of sweat-covered trainers, along with the gym’s co-owner — to prove just how lovely an establishment it truly is. If these ripped hunks don’t motivate you to get your butt to the gym (or to book a flight to NYC just to visit Rumble), then you may want to consider visiting an eye doctor.

The PA location — with big picture windows on the street, as in #2 — is more or less across the street from what is now the Nobu Hotel Epiphany Palo Alto (formerly just the Epiphany), with rooms at $750 a night and up, and with the stratospherically expensive Restaurant Nobu in it.

Now, about PopSugar, from Wikipedia:

PopSugar Inc. is an American media and technology company that is the parent to the media property PopSugar (stylized POPSUGAR), the shopping platform ShopStyle, and a monthly subscription business PopSugar Must Have. The company was founded in 2006 by married couple Brian and Lisa Sugar as a pop culture blog. …  PopSugar features lifestyle content targeted towards women 18-34, across topics such as beauty, entertainment, fashion, fitness, food, and parenting, on mobile, video, and social media.

Digital DNA. Across Hamilton Ave. from the Nobuverse on Emerson St. is the Palo Alto Creamery, a bit of unreconstructed Old Palo Alto I’ve written about a number of times here. A smoked salmon Benedict for Elizabeth, a 3-egg scramble with ham, spinach, and cheddar cheese for me. With the Peninsula Daily Post (“serving Palo Alto and the mid-Peninsula”) for 2/23-24/19 to study.

With this story:

(#3)

The statue (7ft x 5ft, 300 lbs of digital delight) in happier days, at University Ave. and Emerson St., in Lytton Plaza:

(#4)

Artist Adriana Varella’s 2000 description (slightly edited, but largely preserving its eccentric charm) of the work, from her site:

Digital DNA … mixes languages (Arabic, Russian, French, Italian, Portuguese, Japanese, etc). It goes deeper into branching, but above all into the origins of what comes to be the adventure of computers. Therefore, through phrases like: “Circuits of power”, “ideological circuits”, “warfare circuits”, “borderless circuits”, “sexual circuits”, “colonizing circuits”, “genetic circuits, etc, trying to simplistically verify, even if it is a glimpse of consciousness, one of the main tools-objects of our contemporary world.

Digital DNA’s sole intention is a momentary reflection about what we have been building, researching and planning for our software and hardware thinkers…. They are the ones who determine what users will be extracting form their computers (except for the hackers maybe). We hope the art piece could bring some reflection.

And close-ups of some of the egg’s contents:

(#5)

Further up Emerson St. is the Aquarius Theatre, which often appears on these pages.

Down Emerson St., in the other direction, we come to (among other things) Dan Gordon’s restaurant (“beer bbq whiskey”), the Whole Foods Market, and the Taverna restaurant (recent replacement for the Mexican family restaurant La Morenita), all of which have been featured on this blog before. Plus lots of plants I’ve written about. (Oh yes, and the office of my representative in the US Congress, Anna Eshoo).

I can’t walk far, but there’s a lot to look at along the way. And it’s always changing: there are dozens of little tech offices, which mostly get replaced every 6 to 18 months. Churning, always churning.


Control your johnson

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(Lexicographic news for penises, but nothing more alarming than that.)

From a friend in the lgbt precinct of Facebook on the 4th:

Passed a Johnson Controls van on the way home from work. I’ve always said if you have to hire a company to control your johnson you’re in real trouble.

Remarkably, the slang johnson ‘penis’ seems not to have appeared on this blog. But first, the Johnson Controls company (which does not concern itself with penises) and the movie Bad Johnson (which is all about them).

Johnson Controls. From Wikipedia:


(#1) Power Solutions headquarters in Glendale WI

Johnson Controls International plc is a multinational conglomerate headquartered in Cork, Ireland, that produces automotive parts such as batteries, and electronics and HVAC equipment for buildings. It employs 170,000 people in more than 1,300 locations across six continents.

… In 1883, Warren S. Johnson, a professor at the State Normal School in Whitewater, Wisconsin, received a patent for the first electric room thermostat. His invention helped launch the building control industry and was the impetus for a new company.

Phonological note. On the accent pattern of Johnson Controls — vs. johnson control ‘control of one’s johnson’. Both are N + N compounds, but only the second has the characteristic “compound stress” prosody, with front stress (or forestress), as in climate control ‘control of (indoor) climate’ and johnson pain ‘pain in one’s johnson’ — the default pattern for compounds with common-N first element. The default pattern for compounds with proper-N first element is the characteristic “adjective stress” prosody, with back stress (or afterstress), as in nominals like climatic control, but also generally in compounds with trade names as the first element, like:

Velveeta cheese, Kleenex tissues, Listerine mouthwash, Crest toothpaste, Ivory soap

— including those where the trade name is derived from a surname, like:

Zwicky muesli, Kraft cheese, Armour ham, Mellon bank, Ford car

And Johnson Controls.

Bad Johnson. From Wikipedia:


(#2) A poster for the movie

Bad Johnson is a 2014 American sex comedy film directed by Huck Botko.

Rich is a sex addict who ruins every relationship through infidelity. He wishes that his penis would leave him alone. He wakes up one day to find his penis has taken on human form.

With Cam Gigandet as Rich Johnson and Nick Thune as Rich’s penis. Currently rated 29% on Rotten Tomatoes.

[Digression on Gigandet. From Wikipedia:


(#3) An album of Gigandet displaying his lean and muscular body

Cameron Joslin “Cam” Gigandet (born August 16, 1982) is an American actor whose credits include a recurring role on The O.C. and appearances in feature films Twilight, Pandorum, Never Back Down, Burlesque, Easy A, The Roommate and Priest. He also starred in the short-lived CBS legal drama series Reckless. From 2016 to 2018, Gigandet starred in the Audience Network drama series Ice.]

The John family of penis slang. Assembled from GDoS, starting with johnson / Johnson:

noun johnson (also Johnson) (analogous with jock-1 (1) or jack-3 (1) … ) 1 the penis (later usage esp. US black) [1st cite 1863] … 2 a pimp; a man living off a prostitute’s earnings [1st cite 1954] … 3 (US) a dildo [1975 cite] …

noun johnny: … 9 the penis (abbr. John Thomas) [1st cite 1833]

noun jones-2: (US black) 1 the penis [1st cite 1969]

noun jong-2 : (?  john-2 (3) + schlong (1)) 1 (US) the penis [1st cite 1934]

Plus proper names used for phallic reference:

John Thomas [1st cite 1653], John Willie [1st cite 1980]

Curb your enthusiasm, and control your johnson!

A coincidence of days

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(Several shirtless people, in case that annoys or distresses you, but otherwise mostly about music.)

According to my calendar, today is both World Naked Gardening Day and World Accordion Day, which naturally led me to imagine a naked gardener playing the accordion. But my calendar turns out to be half wrong: World Accordion Day is fixed on May 6th; World Naked Gardening Day, on the other hand, is a movable feast, the first Saturday in May, which this year was the 4th.

However, the two occasions did coincide exactly in 2017, and at least one accordion-playing gardener squeezed nude for that occasion.

Naked gardening. Covered, so to speak, on this blog in a 5/4/15 posting “More naked calendars”. The event is sponsored by earnest naturists, so is at most a bit naughty, not actually racy. But of course people are entirely willing to take the day into blue waters. Here’s a “Palm Boy” illustration from John Grimshaw’s Garden Diary for 5/5/12 on World Gardening Day:


(#1) [Grimshaw’s caption] “A particpant in World Naked Gardening Day?”

Squeeze me on the 6th. On today’s musical holiday, from the CIA:

The Confédération Internationale des Accordéonistes (CIA) is pleased to welcome you to World Accordion Day. Since 2009, each May 6th, the CIA has been promoting World Accordion Day.

Our first World Accordion Day was held on 6th May 2009, marking the 180th birthday of the accordion – May 6th 1829, the date the accordion was first patented, in Vienna, Austria, by Cyrillius Demien.

From the (rather poorly organized) Wikipedia entry:

Accordions (from 19th-century German Akkordeon, from Akkord—”musical chord, concord of sounds”) are a family of box-shaped musical instruments of the bellows-driven free-reed aerophone type … The concertina and bandoneón are related; the harmonium and American reed organ are in the same [still larger] family.

The instrument is played by compressing or expanding the bellows while pressing buttons or keys, causing pallets to open, which allow air to flow across strips of brass or steel, called reeds. These vibrate to produce sound inside the body …The performer normally plays the melody on buttons or keys on the right-hand manual, and the accompaniment, consisting of bass and pre-set chord buttons, on the left-hand manual.

The accordion is widely spread across the world. In some countries (for example Brazil, Colombia, Dominican Republic, Mexico and Panama) it is used in popular music (for example Gaucho, Forró and Sertanejo in Brazil, Vallenato in Colombia, and norteño in Mexico), whereas in other regions (such as Europe, North America and other countries in South America) it tends to be more used for dance-pop and folk music [in particular, in American polka music] … Additionally, the accordion is used in cajun, zydeco, jazz music and in both solo and orchestral performances of classical music.

[A note on conceptual categories and labels. As the Wikipedia entry says, the accordion, concertina, and the type of concertina known as a bandoneon are closely related (much like the keyboard instruments the clavichord, harpsichord, fortepiano, and (modern) piano), and music created for one can generally be played on the others, though requiring somewhat different techniques and producing distinctive auditory results.

That is, the accordion and concertina together belong to a higher-level conceptual category, one that does in fact have a label in English, but it’s a decidedly slangy one. From NOAD on the noun squeezebox (also squeeze box): informal ‘an accordion or concertina’.]

I’ll soon move on to the accordion as a fabled Parisian street instrument, and the music of Édith Piaf; and to the bandoneon as an instrument of tango, and the music of Astor Piazzolla. But first, more shirtlessness.

From imgur, “just a naked girl in a dryer with an accordion…” by mephistophelesjanx on 12/22/12:


(#2) The young woman is, however, playing a concertina, not an accordion, so, maybe, just a naked girl in a dryer with a squeezebox; no gardening appears to be involved

From Wikipedia on the instrument in #2:

A concertina is a free-reed musical instrument, like the various accordions and the harmonica. It consists of expanding and contracting bellows, with buttons (or keys) usually on both ends, unlike accordion buttons, which are on the front.

The concertina was developed in England and Germany. The English version was invented in 1829 by Sir Charles Wheatstone,  while Carl Friedrich Uhlig announced the German version five years later, in 1834. Various forms of concertina are used for classical music, for the traditional musics of Ireland, England, and South Africa, and for tango and polka music.

Edith Piaf. Accordions are associated with an extraordinary range of musical traditions, among them the romantic fantasy of accordion-playing musicians strolling the streets of Paris, playing sweetly sad songs of love. If the Paris movie in your mind has a singer in it, that’s probably Édith Piaf’s soaring voice you hear, with its throaty vibrato and fabulously rolled r’s.

The beginning of the Wikipedia entry:

Édith Piaf (born Édith Giovanna Gassion; 19 December 1915 – 10 October 1963) was a French vocalist, songwriter, cabaret performer and film actress noted as France’s national chanteuse and one of the country’s most widely known international stars.

Piaf’s music was often autobiographical and she specialized in chanson and torch ballads about love, loss and sorrow. Her most widely known songs include “La Vie en rose” (1946), “Non, je ne regrette rien” (1960), “Hymne à l’amour” (1949), “Milord” (1959), “La Foule” (1957), “L’Accordéoniste” (1940), and “Padam, padam…” (1951).

Since her death in 1963, several biographies and films have studied her life, including 2007’s Academy Award-winning La Vie en rose — and Piaf has become one of the most celebrated performers of the 20th century.

On “La Vie en rose”, from Wikipedia:

“La Vie en rose” (French: Life in pink) is the signature song of popular French singer Édith Piaf, written in 1945, popularized in 1946, and released as a single in 1947. The song became very popular in the US in 1950 with no fewer than seven different versions reaching the Billboard charts.

… The song’s title can be translated as “Life in happy hues,” “Life seen through happy lenses,” “Life in rosy hues”; its literal meaning is “Life in Pink.”

(#3) Piaf performing the song in the 1948 movie Neuf garçons, un cœur [complete with typo in the title]

For serious accordion involvement, however, we need to turn to “L’Accordéoniste”. From Wikipedia:

“L’Accordéoniste” is a song made famous by Édith Piaf. It was written in 1940 by Michel Emer, who then offered it to her.

… The song tells a story of a prostitute who loves an accordion player (and the music he plays, namely a dance called java). Then he has to leave for the war. She finds refuge in music, dreaming about how they will live together when he comes back

(#4) La fille de joie est belle / Au coin de la rue là-bas …

It’s hard for me to leave Piaf without playing at least “Non, je ne regrette rien” and “Milord”, but I must sacrifice them to go on to the bandoneon.

Astor Pizzolla. His instrument, from Wikipedia:

The bandoneon (or bandonion, Spanish: bandoneón) is a type of concertina particularly popular in Argentina and Uruguay. It is an essential instrument in most tango ensembles from the traditional orquesta típica of the 1910s onwards.


(#5) Astor Piazzolla performing in France in July 1986

The bandoneon, so named by the German instrument dealer, Heinrich Band (1821–1860), was originally intended as an instrument for religious and popular music of the day, in contrast to its predecessor, German concertina (or Konzertina), which had predominantly used in folk music. Around 1870, German and Italian emigrants and sailors brought the instrument to Argentina, where it was adopted into the nascent genre of tango music, a descendant of the earlier milonga.

And on Piazzolla:

Astor Pantaleón Piazzolla (March 11, 1921 – July 4, 1992) was an Argentine tango composer, bandoneon player, and arranger. His oeuvre revolutionized the traditional tango into a new style termed nuevo tango, incorporating elements from jazz and classical music. A virtuoso bandoneonist, he regularly performed his own compositions with a variety of ensembles.

And on his most famous composition, a remarkable piece of chamber music:

Libertango is a composition by tango composer Astor Piazzolla, recorded and published in 1974 in Milan. The title is a portmanteau merging “Libertad” (Spanish for liberty) and “Tango”, symbolizing Piazzolla’s break from Classical Tango to Tango Nuevo.

(#6) The first video of Libertango

Piazzolla was an immensely prolific composer, writing solo pieces, a huge number of chamber works, also concertos and symphonies, and works harder to classify.

An accordion-playing gardener squeezed nude for World Accordion Day / World Naked Gardening Day in 2017, from Twitter:

(#7)

It’s come around again

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(Consider the topic before reading on.)

That would be National Masturbation Day, May 7th, today — launching National Masturbation Month, lusty May:


(#1) From my 5/4/18 posting “Then, if ever, come lusty days”


(#2) “Black Solo” (from the Porn for Women TV site), cropped

Specifically, self-lust, self-pleasure.  A regular topic on this blog — write about what you know, they say, and I’ve been practicing this one for about 67 years — also an occasional hook for movie comedy.

The back files for the chirosexual holidays (cf. chiropodist, lit. ‘hand-foot-ist’):

from 6/2/13 “A holiday I missed”: National Masturbation Month (May) and Day (May 7th); attitudes about masturbation

from 5/13/16 “stroke”: masturbation and its vocabulary; masturbation sleeves

from 3/24/17 “Hand jobs”

from 3/24/17 “The invention of the X job”, taking off from the idea that the hand job was an invention

from 5/13/17 “Months and days”: why May for National Masturbation Month?

Masturbation at the movies. Four picks. Masturbating oneself, rather than another. Male masturbation, specifically. And comedies, though the Comedy category embraces a wide range of approaches.

1 Spanking the Monkey (1994). From Wikipedia:

(#3)

Spanking the Monkey is a 1994 American black comedy film written and directed by David O. Russell. The title is a slang phrase for masturbation and is used in the film by one of the teenage characters.

Frustrated masturbation; prostitutes; incest; suicide attempts. But somehow funny.

There’s Something About Mary (1998). From Wikipedia:

(#4)

There’s Something About Mary is a 1998 comedy film, directed by the Farrelly brothers, Bobby and Peter. It stars Cameron Diaz, Ben Stiller and Matt Dillon and it is a combination of romantic comedy, slapstick, and gross-out film.

In 1985, high school student Ted Stroehmann (Ben Stiller) lands a prom date with his dream girl Mary Jensen (Cameron Diaz), which is cancelled after a painful and embarrassing zipper accident.

Ted gets his dick caught in his zipper. And then there’s the hair gel clip:

 (#5) With cum on Ted’s ear

3 American Pie (1999). From my 10/22/15 posting “From shirtless Monday: Seann William Scott”, on the actor as Stifler in 1999’s American Pie:

(#6)

[Wikipedia: The title is borrowed from the pop song of the same name and refers to a scene in the film, in which the lead character is caught masturbating with a pie after being told that third base feels like “warm apple pie”.]

… Even from the poster — with its slogan “There’s something about your first piece” — you can see it revels tastelessly in teen sex. And so it does, hilariously. But with many very sweet touches.

4 Don Jon (2013). From Wikipedia:

(#7)

Don Jon is a 2013 American romantic comedy-drama film written and directed by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Produced by Ram Bergman and Nicolas Chartier, the film stars Gordon-Levitt, Scarlett Johansson, and Julianne Moore, with Rob Brown, Glenne Headly, Brie Larson, and Tony Danza in supporting roles. The film premiered under its original title Don Jon’s Addiction at the Sundance Film Festival on January 18, 2013, and had its wide release in the United States on September 27, 2013.

Plot: Jon Martello is a young Italian American and modern-day Don Juan living in New Jersey, with a short list of things he cares about: “my body, my pad, my ride, my family, my church, my boys, my girls, my porn.” Though he has a very active sex life, he is more sexually satisfied by viewing pornography and masturbating, which he claims allows him to “lose himself.”

Another theme from the masturbation literature: that it’s so satisying, and so easy, that it can supplant desire for sex with a partner.

Annals of fruity goodness: the strawberry file

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(Warning: It ends with indirect allusion to mansex and with two shirtless actors, arms around each other’s shoulders, showing their stuff in their underwear.)

A recent posting in the My Home is California group on Facebook:

(a) I dreamed of photographing a sliced strawberry …, thinking it was a fruit. It is actually more closely related to a rose.

To which I now respond, first:

(b) I dreamed of photographing a sliced potato, thinking it was a vegetable. It is actually more closely related to a petunia.

And, second:

(c) I dreamed of photographing James Franco, thinking he was a fruit. He is actually more closely related to a piece of meat.

Strawberries. A photo — not the one on FB, but one from the Stark Bros. nursery, because it shows strawberry flowers (and a connection to roses):


(#1) Ad for the Strawberry Shortcake Collection: 100 plants of 4 varieties (for $40)

An expanded version of my response to (a):

This fruit stuff has gotten entirely out of hand (typically, it comes up in connection with tomatoes). In botanical writing, fruit is the name of a plant part (rose hips are fruits; so are acorns, the winged samaras of maple trees. and the pods of locust trees; so are zucchini, peppers, avocados, and string beans; and, yes, so are berries, including strawberries); in culinary writing, fruit is the name of a type of food (NOAD: ‘the sweet and fleshy product of a tree or other plant that contains seed and can be eaten as food’; specifically, they’re eaten as sweet food). They’re different words, with different meanings, like bank referring to a financial institution or the side of a river.

Also, even botanists don’t say that strawberries are roses; they say that Fragaria is a genus of plants in the Rosaceae family. The common name for plants in the genus Fragaria is “strawberry” (also for their fruits); the informal name for the Rosaceae is “the rose family” (which includes roses, all the stonefruit trees, almond trees, raspberries, cotoneaster shrubs, the garden flower and wildflower cinqefoil / potentilla, and more). But strawberries aren’t roses, any more than apples, peaches, almonds, or blackberries are.

You can see a bit of the relationship between strawberry plants, rose plants, and almond trees by looking at their flowers. Compare (a) with these flowers:


(#2) A (single) rose blossom


(#3) An almond blossom

Potatoes. The potato as a culinary object is the tuber of the plant, and its culinary function is as a vegetable, in one of several culinary roles.

Botanically, the plant is in the Solanaceae, or nightshade family, along with Jimson weed, tomato, tomatillo, chili pepper and bell pepper, eggplant, Cape gooseberry, Atropa belladonna (deadly nightshade), Chinese lantern, tobacco, garden nicotiana, petunia, Chilean potato tree, and more. Some discussion in my 10/17/17 posting “gypsum weed etc.”

Again, the flowers are similar.

Fruity goodness and James Franco. The nominal fruity goodness is now used fairly widely in food writing on the net and in ads for fruit-scented products, but it seems to be quite recent; Google Ngram pulls up no instances at all in the books in its current sample. But then there’s:


(#4) A self-improvement book: “Written by a health enthusiast from the viewpoint of Traditional Chinese Medicine, this book provides a friendly approach to health and vitality for the busy individual”

Astoundingly, I found no uses of fruity goodness (exploiting the gay slur fruit) in porn writing, whether intended dramatically or comically. I was hoping for something like, “I savored his fruity goodness flooding my mouth and looked up thankfully into his piercing eyes”. But no.

But I still have James Franco, who repeatedly presents himself as some kind of fruit — queer in spirit, gay as a character — but not as a fruit-fruit — not drawn to sex with other men. So: not a (sexual) fruit, but certainly a piece of (sexual) meat in his presentation of himself, as in this photo of Keegan Allen (left) with Franco (right) in their Nasty Pig underwear (designed for guys to flaunt their meat), on the occasion of their appearing together in the movie King Cobra:


(#5) From my 6/14/17 posting “Pride Time #4: gay porn and gay bioflicks”

Fruity goodness, but in very modest helpings.

Follow-up: John Rechy

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Yesterday’s posting “High 5 from a bison”, all about number(s), ended with some exposition of John Rechy’s 1967 novel Numbers, about a male hustler collecting lots of tricks — numbers of numbers — on the streets and in the parks of Los Angeles. Now two follow-ups: Soft Cell’s (“Tainted Love”) musical tribute to the novel, and notes on Rechy’s life and career, still going at 88.

Soft Cell. From Wikipedia:

(#1)

The Art of Falling Apart is the second full-length album by the English synthpop duo Soft Cell [Marc Almond and David Ball], released in 1983. [“Numbers” was the 3rd track of 8 on the original album]

(#2)… And you never know their names

Because names make a person real
And there’s no real people in these games

… Until you wake up one day
And find that you’re a number

Rechy and his cohort. To place him in his times: Rechy’s immediate cohort, of gay male writers born close to 1930 (living people’s names in boldface):

†Edward Albee 3/12/28; †Thom Gunn 8/29/29; John Rechy 3/10/31 [note: Rechy doesn’t like the label gay]

Some other men (of gay interest, but not all gay) in this cohort:

†Maurice Sendak 6/10/28; Stephen Sondheim 3/22/30; †Steve McQueen 3/24/30; †Harvey Milk 5/22/30; †James Dean 2/8/31; †Tab Hunter 7/11/31; †Anthony Perkins 4/4/32; Joel Grey 4/11/32

In the preceding cohort, gay male writers born close to 1925 (the list is heavy on poets; hey, that’s one of my things):

†James Baldwin 8/2/24; †Truman Capote 9/30/24; †Yukio Mishima 1/14/25; †Jack Spicer 1/30/25; †James Merrill 3/3/26; †Frank O’Hara 3/27/26; †Allen Ginsberg 6/3/26; †John Ashbery 7/28/27

Some other gay men in this cohort:

†Rock Hudson 11/17/25; †Roy Cohn 2/20/27 [Cohn famously denied being gay]

The cohort following Rechy’s (men born close to 1935) is very sparse indeed, presumably an effect of the Great Depression; for gay male writers, I find only:

Larry Kramer 6/25/35

(My own cohort, of men born close to 1940, is much bigger.)

Webs of association, friendship, and sexual connection are complex and often dense. Thom Gunn taught at Stanford on occasion, but we never met. I never met Ginsberg, but we’re just two steps apart sexually. Otherwise, given our sexual and life histories, it would be remarkable if I were not connected by sexual chains to Rechy, Gunn, O’Hara, and Kramer, but of course the links would just have been nameless numbers (and the chains possibly quite long).

Rechy in old age. After a very long slog of being both reviled and celebrated, and patching together a life from gigs teaching writing at various institutions (at which, I am told by friends, he was very good) and erratic income from his books, with frequent work breaks for hustling and simple tricking as well (activities he is not in the slightest apologetic about — think of them as passionate hobbies), Rechy has reached some sort of apex of his career, with the publication of two books in the past two years, awards and honors, and interviews. He’s now famous in L.A., in gay/queer studies, and in Chicano/Hispanic studies (he’s Mexican-American).

At 88, he is still intensely body-proud, extremely guarded about his emotions, and invested in projecting a strongly masculine identity — and entirely self-aware about all of this.

Two L.A. interviews in 2018, the first focused on his 2017 novel After the Blue Hour, the second on his novel Pablo!, published in 2018.

From the LA Times on 10/19/18, in “John Rechy, a prophet of liberation” by Alex Espinosa:


(#2) “John Rechy, at home in Los Angeles, is the charismatic 87-year-old writer whose “City of Night,” published in 1963, is a landmark of gay literature. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)” [Yes, he dyes his hair. Carefully.]

… He lives at the end of a cul-de-sac in a quiet section of Encino.

… Rechy and his mate Michael (he bristles at the term “partner” or “husband”) meet me at the door. Rechy’s handshake — like his writing, like his very life — is exact, tough, but tender at the same time. His stare is focused, nothing gets past him, and when he gives you that look, you want to linger there with him. At 87, he is still producing work.


(#3) “John Rechy in the 1970s (Collection of John Rechy)”

“After the Blue Hour” was published last February by Grove Press. “The novel is unflinching in its candor even as its events have a tantalizing aura of mystery,” wrote Publisher’s Weekly; Kirkus Review called it “[b]eautifully written.” The novel won the 2018 Lambda Literary award for best gay fiction.

Then from the Los Angeles Review of Books on 9/2/18, in “Technicolor Saints and Celebrated Outlaws: An Interview with John Rechy” by Eric Newman:

[EN:]John Rechy’s latest novel, Pablo! [published in 2018], first written in 1948 when the author was 18–19 years old, reads like a myth. While that quality is owed in part to the Mayan myths that structure the story of a fraught love between “The Woman” and the eponymous Pablo — at least one of these being the myth in which the sun and the moon are lovers ever seeking union with one another and ever failing to achieve it — it is also a quality present in much of Rechy’s writing. What Rechy writes, I suppose I should say, isn’t realist fiction per se (though I’d argue that he captures certain pitches and tones of human desire with a rare honesty), but rather prose that follows haunted wanderers navigating the dreamlike space of society’s fringes.

… [JR:] I hate the word “queer” and all its new iterations. “Gay” was awful enough. “‘Gays’ makes us sound like bliss ninnies,” Christopher Isherwood said once. “Queer” will always be for men of my generation a word of violence and hatred, and it separates generations. And while I’m digressing, let me commit blasphemy: the over-emphasis on the Stonewall riots depletes and distorts our history of resistance and the art produced, which is determinedly referred to as “pre-Stonewall.” Resistance occurred years before Stonewall (but there were lots of writers in New York at the time to write about those riots), in San Francisco, Los Angeles, other cities, powerful confrontations with the police, powerful demonstrations. “Pre-Stonewall” writers include William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, strong radical voices confronting the grave dangers of the time, violence, prison.

Amen on the “pre-Stonewall” rant.

 

The Magnificent WaterSports

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(Men’s bodies and mansex, not suitable for kids or the sexually modest.)

In the Daily Jocks mailing yesterday, this heavily sexualized ad for WaterShorts swimwear (in black, aqua, lime, and coral), the first swimwear from the premium homowear company PUMP! (an old acquaintance on this blog) — with a caption of mine in run-on free verse:


(#1) The Magnficent WaterSports

cruising hard in a pack
the four ride acrest waves of desire
intimidating contemptuous seductive
assuming the burden of
creating enlivening animating
celebrity characters

muscle-hunk Yuri Bruno
menacing in black
leader of the four
crafts an actor “Yul Brynner” aka
Cajun gunslinger Chris Adams
in a famous Western movie, with
guns instead of water pistols so
ominous

haughty faggy Stevie Molleen
wanton in aqua
creates a hyper-macho
“Steve McQueen” all
fast race cars and motorcycles
doing drifter Vin Tanner in the movie
“McQueen’s” fiercely competitive love for
“Paul Newman” was notorious darling
we love them both for it

crotch-grabbing Horn Blucher
incontinent in lime the boy just
cannot keep his hands off his dick
admittedly it is beautiful a monument of
masculinity but still, he animates a
“Horst Bucholz” in the movie a young and
hot-blooded shootist called Chico all
ethnicities melt together in the
watery lands of celluloid desire

impassive Jocko Burnish
indifferent in coral, fresh
aquatic feminine coral, doesn’t
give a shit creates the super-flinty-cool
“James Coburn” whose gun rarely
stays in its holster but movie-morphs into a
knife that Britt wields in the movie one
mortal metal cock is much like any other

Yuri might be the leader, but Stevie (with his white-blond hair, stud earrings, and  hyper-ripped body, plus that haughty stare) is the focus of the group portrait. Here he is displaying his (completely smooth-shaven) body for us, alongside a crudely symbolic lion’s-mouth fountain:


(#2)

Background note: The Magnificent Seven. From Wikipedia:

The Magnificent Seven is a 1960 American Western film directed by John Sturges and starring Yul Brynner, Eli Wallach, Steve McQueen, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter, James Coburn and Horst Buchholz. The film is an Old West–style remake of Akira Kurosawa’s 1954 Japanese film Seven Samurai. Brynner, McQueen, Bronson, Vaughn, Dexter, Coburn and Buchholz portray the title characters, a group of seven gunfighters hired to protect a small village in Mexico from a group of marauding bandits (whose leader is played by Wallach)

Background note: Steve McQueen. Something of a maximal contrast in persona to Stevie Molleen, so that having Stevie be the creator of the “Steve McQueen” character is especially delicious. From Wikipedia about the celebrity that Stevie constructed:

Terrence Stephen McQueen (March 24, 1930 – November 7, 1980) was an American actor. McQueen was nicknamed “The King of Cool”, and his antihero persona developed at the height of the counterculture of the 1960s made him a top box-office draw during the 1960s and 1970s. McQueen received an Academy Award nomination for his role in The Sand Pebbles. His other popular films include The Cincinnati Kid, Love With the Proper Stranger, The Thomas Crown Affair, Bullitt, The Getaway, and Papillon, as well as the all-star ensemble films The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, and The Towering Inferno.

The early-life script that Stevie wrote for this character is gripping: a turbulent, violent childhood history, years in reform school, a series of rough jobs, the Marines, and a breakthrough in the role of bounty hunter Josh Randall on tv’s Wanted Dead or Alive (1958-61), a paragon of great masculine strength and great decency as well. A p.r. shot for the show:

(#3)

Stevie deveoped his “Steve McQueen” character off-screen, in a series of high-macho exploits (race cars and motorcycles, palling around with other high-masculinity celebrities). Shirtess on a motorcycle:

(#4)

(Note: McQueen had a lean body type, and kept in shape, but he looked naturally fit and not gym-ripped.)

More PUMP! news. Catching up on PUMP! WaterShorts led me to another remarkable line of homowear from the company: the Creamsicle line, in burnt orange and several styles:


(#4) Left to right: brief, jock, access trunk (backless), boxer

Archly queer ad copy for these items, for example:

Fatally masculine, the Creamsicle Brief is the kind of treat you simply can’t help but crave.

A creamy style with a tangy twist, the Creamsicle Access Trunk is everyone’s favorite flavor. …  retro styling that adds a bold and playful touch for when you’re (un)dressed to impress.

The Access Trunk up close, seen from the rear, as it was meant to be:

(#5)

Earlier on this blog: my posting of 10/17/18, “PUMP!ing it up”, on the Creamsicle access trunk, and on the Creamsicle — popsicle-ice frozen exterior, vanilla ice cream interior — originally in orange flavored ice (hence the color of PUMP!’s underwear line), though now in a variety of flavors:


(#6) Old original (orange) Creamsicles

Popsicles are, of course, classic phallic symbols (especially powerful symbolically because you put them in your mouth and suck on them and eat them), and when you add cream (slang for ‘semen’) to the name, you have Gay Delight. (If you like orange ice, as I do, even better.)

And, yes, there’s a National Creamsicle Day: August 14th.

Oh Canada baby, ripple my maple leaves!

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Today is Canada Day, Canada’s national day, celebrated in many ways, perhaps most remarkably in this display of national pride — “hot shirtless muscle jocks in Canadian themed pants”, according to one of the many Pinterest sites on which it’s reproduced — which came to me from Tim Evanson, who thought that they might be a Canadian sports team of some kind (they certainly are fit):


(#1) The Canadian Thunder team: Bobby Ryan, Carlo Spina, Michael Scratch, Daniel Bennato, Vince Johansson and Malcolm Foster

Yes, a team, and yes, certified Canadians (I’d feared they’d turn out to be American male models hired for the photo, but, gratifyingly, not), and the men are no doubt accomplished athletes, but they aren’t a sports team.

They are, or were, Canada’s national team of male strippers, from the 2003-04 season of the reality tv series Strip Search.

So, to the figure of the RCMP Mountie, we can add the Canadian Thunder as human symbols of the Empire of the Maple Leaf, along with two sports (ice hockey and lacrosse), various animals (the beaver, the Canada goose, the loon), some articles of clothing (the parka, the tuque, mittens, and ear muffs), and a variety of food and drink (nanaimo bars, poutine, maple syrup, and Canadian beer).

Here’s the team in motion:


(#2) Up the Leaf!

About the show, from Wikipedia:


(#3) The Strip Search logo, alluding to the national anthem, “Oh, Canada!” and probably also to “Oh, Calcutta!”; from Wikipedia:

Oh! Calcutta! is an avant-garde theatrical revue, created by British drama critic Kenneth Tynan. The show, consisting of sketches on sex-related topics, debuted Off-Broadway in 1969 and then in the West End in 1970. … The show sparked considerable controversy at the time, because it featured extended scenes of total nudity, both male and female. The title is taken from a painting by Clovis Trouille, itself a pun on “O quel cul t’as!” French for “What an arse you have!”.

Strip Search is a reality television series, first broadcast in 2001.

The series follows the search for a new troupe of male strippers from audition to the final live show. First broadcast in New Zealand in 2001, versions have been made in Australia, the United Kingdom, Germany, Canada and the United States.

The format is virtually identical in each series: men are invited to audition for the show, and during a number of tasks, including a boot camp, the numbers are whittled down until the final troupe perform for a live audience.

The original New Zealand troupe was called “Kiwi Fire”. In the same vein, the Australian troupe was called “Aussie Storm”, the UK troupe was named “UK Storm”, the Canadian group was dubbed “Canadian Thunder” and the American troupe was named “American Storm”. The series was masterminded by Billy Cross, an Australian entrepreneur who had success on the Las Vegas Strip with an Australian troupe entitled “Manpower”.

And about the Canadian season of the Strip Search show, from the Suddenly SeeMore Productions site:

STRIP SEARCH transformed a group of ordinary young men into an extraordinary professional male revue. Hosts Bruce Turner and Misty Lowrey went on a cross-Canada search for anyone who had the secret — or not so secret — dream, to dance and well…strip.

From 20 semi-finalists at boot camp to 12 finalists in training and eventually a troupe of six men who became Canadian Thunder, STRIP SEARCH documents what it takes to turn average Canadian guys into a male revue troupe — from choreography to costume fittings, workouts, waxing and calendar shoots.

The series finale performance in front of a live audience is just the warm-up act for their tour across Canada.

STRIP SEARCH is about fun, warmth, and decent Canadian guys taking it [almost] all off — physically and emotionally — for a chance at a new life and a career that includes fun, travel and glamour.

The site has steamy shots (most of them cock-teases) of each of the men. Here’s Michael Scratch using the Canadian flag as a stipper prop:

(#4)

Male revues.The more refined term of art for the performances of male strippers, referring to male striptease shows — for audiences of women or of gay men. The performances range from no-contact shows emphasizing professional choreography and playfulness — as in the Chippendales’ shtick for women — down to raunchy foreplay to actual sex, as in what was available for gay men until last December at the Nob Hill Theatre in San Francisco (posting to come on this blog).

Some notes on the more elevated end of this range.

— From Wikipedia:

(#5)

Magic Mike is a 2012 American comedy-drama film directed by Steven Soderbergh and starring Channing Tatum, Alex Pettyfer, Matt Bomer, Joe Manganiello, and Matthew McConaughey. The plot revolves around Adam, a 19-year-old who enters the world of male stripping, guided by Mike Lane, who has been in the business for six years.

— in my 7/2/15 posting “Pecs, abs, and dancing”, on the movie Magic Mike XXL, sequel to the 2012 male stripper movie Magic Mike

— in my 7/26/15 posting “Shirtless shark-fighting teens”, a section on the touring dance troupe Chippendales

— in my 12/14/15 posting “Professional muscle hunks”:

The economy of professional body-workers. Professional body-workers are those who exploit their bodies to earn a living. The category covers the professional muscle hunks I’ve been talking about, men who use their bodies to earn model fees for work for photographers, but it includes much more: male models in general, especially underwear models; male strip-tease performers, like the Chippendales dancers and Channing Tatum and other actors in the Magic Mike movies, all of whom do “male erotic dance shows”, and men performing solo at parties; other men paid to dance for audiences (doing pole-dancing for tips, for example); men who do solo porn; and men who are straightforwardly sexworkers of one sort or another — doing hard-core porn, doing live sex shows, and men working as rentboys, escorts providing sex, and sexual masseurs.


The hollow

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In a comment on my 9/14/19 posting “Clavicular knobs” (aka Ricardo’s acromia), Robert Coren writes about “the hollow space above the inner end of the collar-bone”, and I confess to not knowing a name for it. Roger Phillips (in England) fills in:

It’s not in Merriam-Webster, but all my British dictionaries have “saltcellar” for the collarbone pit. The first OED citation is:

[1870 O. Logan Before Footlights 26] I was a child of the most uninteresting age..a tall scraggy girl, with red elbows, and salt cellars at my collar-bones, which were always exposed, for fashion at that time made girls of this age uncover neck and arms.

The item has a complex social and cultural distribution, but knowing this much eventually led me to the technical term from anatomy: the suprasternal, or jugular, notch. Sometimes referred to in ordinary language as the hollow of the neck or the neck hollow.

The OED2 entry for the relevant noun saltcellar / salt-cellar / salt cellar

colloquial. Each of the pronounced hollows at the base of a thin neck. (Usually with reference to young women.)

All the cites refer to young women, all are uncomplimentary in tone, and all are British or Australian (the one Australian cite being from novelist Patrick White, who was educated in England). That’s remarkably specific socioculturally.

The variants neck hollow and hollow of the neck have no OED entries, though they’re certainly attested — presumably because the editors thought they were entirely transparent semantically (involving only a contextual specialization of hollow).

Meanwhile, a Mental Floss column, “30 Old (and Useful) Slang Names for Parts of the Body” by Paul Anthony Jones on 1/9/19 introduces yet another variable, age (vs. currency) of the item (the OED’s most recent cite is the Patrick White, from 1964; the one right before that is from a Clemence Dane novel of 1917):

In 19th century slang, the small round hollow between the collarbones at the base of the neck — and in particular a young woman’s neck — was nicknamed the salt-cellar, a [metaphorical] reference to the small bowls or basins of salt used in kitchens. (That hollow’s proper anatomical name, incidentally, is the suprasternal notch.)

The basis for the metaphor:


(#1) Early Victorian sterling silver salt cellars (from an auction site)

The actual bodypart:


(#2) Illustration from the Science Direct site (note labeled clavicle and, yes, an acromion — remember Ricardo’s acromia?)

The suprasternal notch, also known as the fossa jugularis sternalis, or jugular notch, is a large, visible dip in between the neck and the two collarbones of the human anatomy. The jugular notch is found at the superior [that is, the top] border of the manubrium [the handle-shaped upper part] of the sternum [the breastbone], between the clavicular notches. (Wikipedia link)

Unlike saltcellar, names like suprasternal notch and neck hollow are free of associations with young women, disapproving attitudes, etc. They do seem to be the object of a modestly common (and entirely harmless) paraphilia. And in any case, some people might reasonbly be judged to possess especially attractive neck hollows. Actor Jared Padalecki as the character Sam Winchester in the tv series Supernatural, for instance:


(#3) Shirtless and well-hollowed (also an object of admiration for fans of inguinal ligaments)

Musclemen from Mars

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(There will be rampant male shirtlessness. Just a friendly warning, or an invitation, depending on your tastes.)

It’s a Zippy strip (today’s!). It’s another gender note (about masculinity). It’s yet another shirtless posting (shirtlessness as a prime masculinity display, in fact.) It’s about umliterature (physique magazines, in particular). And about camp (Flash Gordon). And of course, since the arousing shirtless campy musclemen are from Mars (or possibly Mongo), about SF. And finally, tucked in there inconspicuously in the last panel is an antique Griffithian self-referential surprise (from 1973):

(#1)

Male superheroes are extravagant embodiments of masculinity: they are, to start with, embodiments of great human power (conventionally associated with men), and then they have superhuman powers beyond that; their cosumes are designed to encase their bodies, but tightly, so as to suggest, reveal, or exaggerate every bit of gendered anatomy (the broad shoulders, the musculature of the arms, torso, and thighs, and the genital package). (Beyond the powers and the costumes, there are the conventionally hyper-masculine faces.)

The strip begins with superheroes on this planet, but it ends, in the lower right corner, with (hunky) superheroes in space — “Musclemen from Mars” is what the Dingburgers are reading — and it turns out that space-traveling superheroes (as exemplified by Flash Gordon) are given to frequent bouts of shirtlessness (mostly while performing their feats of manly derring-do, but sometimes during the virtually obligatory shirtless torture scenes).

“Musclemen from/of Mars”. A search on these expressions took me in several directions, some of them unexpected.

First, presumably through musclemen, I was led to sites for male revues (for female audiences) in several cities, all using this figure of Pecsy McAbs against various urban backgrounds:


(#2) Shirtless masculinity on display to the max (on the gender significance of shirtlessness, see my 9/28 posting “Gender notes: transgender fashion models”)

The item revue, from NOAD:

noun revue: a light theatrical entertainment consisting of a series of short sketches, songs, and dances, typically dealing satirically with topical issues. ORIGIN French, literally ‘review’ [but distinct in spelling].

So there are Broadway revues. But also male revues, which are only minimally structured. From my 7/1/19 posting “Oh Canada, baby, ripple my maple leaves!”

Male revues.The more refined term of art for the performances of male strippers, referring to male striptease shows — for audiences of women or of gay men. The performances range from no-contact shows emphasizing professional choreography and playfulness — as in the Chippendales’ shtick for women — down to raunchy foreplay to actual sex, as in what was available for gay men until last December at the Nob Hill Theatre in San Francisco

Second, presumably through the combination of musclemen and Mars, I was led to the pocket-size men’s physique magazine Mars (which exploited the symbol ♂ representing the Roman god Mars, the planet Mars, and the element iron, and — as the spear of Mars — serving as the biological symbol for the male sex). From the Pinterest site:


(#3) Issue #1 (5/63); just a posing strap, buddy


(#4) Issue #27 (9/67); sniff the leather and sweat

The physique studio Kris of Chicago operated from 1953 until 1976 and was responsible for documenting a huge array of athletic models throughout the period. Co-founded by Chuck Renslow (founder and current president of the International Mr. Leather Contest and The Leather Archives & Museum).

Physique / beefcake magazines were soft gay porn for an earlier, more censorious era. From Wikipedia:

Beefcake magazines were magazines published in North America in the 1930s to 1960s that featured photographs of attractive, muscular young men in athletic poses. While their primary market was gay men, until the 1960s, they were typically presented as being magazines dedicated to encouraging fitness and health: the models were often shown demonstrating exercises.

Because of the puritan culture of the era, and because of censorship laws, gay pornography could not be sold openly. Gay men turned to beefcake magazines, which could be sold in newspaper stands, book stores and pharmacies.

Mars was a small player in the beefcake market. For a major figure, see my 7/17/16 posting “A remarkable website”, with its section on the physique photography of Bob Mizer.

The space-traveling superhero Flash Gordon. More to the point of the Zippy cartoon is the celebrated muscleman Flash Gordon, the first science-fiction superhero of tv and the movies, with a decided predilection for gender-display shirtlessness, though on the (distant) planet Mongo rather than Mars. From a listing in my 11/14/10 posting “Flash Gordon over the years”, three movie highlights:

the 1936 movie serial starring Buster Crabbe as Flash (and its sequels in 1938 and 1940)

Flesh Gordon, a 1974 erotic spoof of the serials films

Flash Gordon, a [knowingly] campy 1980 film starring Sam J. Jones as Flash (with music by Queen)

I am a great fan of the movie serials and the 1980 movie, each enjoyably campy in its own way. And both containing monuments to shirtless masculinity. Notable moments:


(#5) Buster Crabbe in 1936; his arousing performances transferred to tv attended my very early onset of puberty (age 10) and consequently drove an intense but shame-filled fantasy sex life (so I’m not rational on the subject; there is no desire like young desire, especially when recalled in old age)


(#6) Sam J. Jones in 1980, in a shirtless torture scene

On the Flash of the serials, this thoughtful, funny piece from the tor.com site (“Science Fiction. Fantasy. The universe. And related subjects.”), “The Flash Gordon Serials of the 1930s Changed the Face of Sci-Fi”  by Hector DeJean on  8/21/19:

Thanks to the growth of streaming services, a vast archive of antique entertainment is now easily accessible to the public, though whether it should be or not is a matter of personal opinion. In the case of the Flash Gordon serials that Universal created from 1936 to 1940, the debate over such material’s worth is a significant matter to science fiction fans. The serials, starring Larry “Buster” Crabbe as Flash (a character who had first appeared in newspaper comic strips a few years prior) made a powerful impression which is evident in much of the sci-fi films and shows that followed. You can see a clear impact on EC comics like Weird Science, on the original Star Trek, and of course the 1980 Flash Gordon film. George Lucas acknowledged the influence of the serials on Star Wars — a film he made when he was unable to acquire the Flash Gordon film rights.

So the pre-WWII serials are significant, but are they actually worth watching? With their stock characters, recycled sets, cobbled-together special effects, and disjointed stories, you could argue that they qualify only as pure camp. It’s easy to laugh at Crabbe’s earnest heroics, and even easier to mock the tin-cans-plus-sparklers rockets and hair-dryer laser guns.  …  And yet there is no such thing as perfect entertainment, and if films like Guardians of the Galaxy and The Incredibles can offer important life lessons, one of those lessons is that over-the-top silliness and action-packed derring-do can function together in harmony. … When certain expectations are managed, the early Flash Gordon serials are not just enlightening peeks into the formative years of science fiction movies — they’re also enjoyable films on their own, with enough solid adventure and spectacle to make for a fun ride. And, oddly, the longer they run, the better the ride.

Let’s start with the star, Olympic swimmer Larry “Buster” Crabbe. Crabbe will never ascend to the pantheon of Hollywood greats alongside Paul Newman, Ingrid Bergman, Kirk Douglas, and the rest; he’ll never even make it to the level of Michael J. Fox or Jane Seymour. Yet with his Greek-ideal looks and his athletic build, he may have been, visually, one of the greatest action stars who ever lived. Crabbe’s beefcakeiness is such a part of his Hollywood legacy that even his IMDB profile photo shows him shirtless. [Please stop and admire beefcakeiness in bloom.]

… The campiness of the Flash Gordon serials is thick and the effects are laughable, but this is a rocket ship that we boarded a long, long time ago — and it still flies.

The cartoonist’s Easter egg. Finally, my googling on “Musclemen from Mars” turned up a surprise. From the ComixJoint site, about Real Pulp Comics #2 (March 1973), which had strips by Art Spiegelman, Roger Brand, S. Clay Wilson, Charles Dallas — and, yes, Bill Griffith:

Bill Griffith also reprises his appearance in the first issue, but this time not with a Zippy story, but with a hilarious spoof of the comic artist who had taken the underground comics world by storm by 1972: Richard V. Corben. Corben, who had exploded on the scene in Skull, Slow Death, Rowlf, Fantagor and Fever Dreams, was disparaged (or surreptitiously condemned) by many rebellious cartoonists as a slick, shallow and overtly commercial artist who tried to cash in on the underground culture.

Griffith lampoons the style and substance of Corben’s comic art in “Musclemen of Mars,” which features nude, hypermuscular men and women in conflict over matters of little consequence and minor social relevance. Some might presume that Griffith would retract some of his excoriating satire in light of Corben’s subsequent accomplishments, but I tend to believe he would stand his ground even more today than he did in 1973.

Real Pulp Comics survived for only two issues and the second one only enjoyed one printing of 20,000 copies.

So it’s not just by chance that the Dingburgers in the final panel of #1 are discussing the comic book Musclemen from Mars.

A man, his hands, his pants

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(That’s AmE pants, roughly equivalent to BrE trousers. This posting is about men’s clothing and men’s bodies and gets fairly racy — it starts with a guy with his hands in his pants and sex on his mind — so some readers might want to exercise caution.)

So you’re a straight white guy, from North America or some place culturally similar. A photographer wants to take your picture. How do you pose your body? In particular, what do you do with your hands? More generally, what do you do with your hands when they’re not actually involved in your current activity? Then, what role do your lower garments — trousers, shorts, maybe underpants — play in the placement of your hands? And what, if anything, does your choice of placement signify?

So: adventures in hand-pants (or manual-bracal) kinesics.

Sexy hands. Let’s dive right into the image from yesterday’s Daily Jocks ad:


(#1) From the DJX Trough line [troughs are for pigs, in particular sexpigs]: harness and shorts in white, model with his hand in those shorts, inspecting his equipment

The extremely hunky model has recently appeared on this blog with his hand once again in his shorts — decidedly revealing black mesh shorts, and he’s visibly holding his penis (fuzzed out in the reproduction below) between thumb and forefinger — while flashing an intense cruise-face:


(#2) An underwear ad framed as a sexual advertisement (or vice versa), from my 10/1 posting “Up to the line, and sometimes over”

Before these two pants-hand ads, the same model, also in mesh harness and trunks (but in white this time), with his fists framing the pouch, and with that intense facial expression (now in a sidelong glare), which I read here as a challenge: fight or fuck:


(#3) Once again a significant conjunction of hands and pants, and a sexually freighted one, but now with the hands outside the pants

So far two sexual scenarios for hand-pant hanky-panky (handy-panty?): trolling for a partner or going solo (in either self-admiration or self-satisfaction). And, independently, with the manual gesture either outside the pants or in them, but in either case engaging with the pants via metonymy: the pants figure in it through their association with the man’s genitals.

Three more hands-in-pants shots, one playful, two intensely sexual:


(#4) A Valentine’s Day one-hand twink image, skirting “the line between covering the genitals and revealing them and also, independently, the line between protecting the genitals and fondling them” (text from my “Up to the line” posting); an image that offers a face and a (shirtless) torso as well as a crotch, for a three-faceted display of masculinity


(#5) A very steamy two-hand hunk image (whose ultimate source I haven’t traced), another three-faceted display, with a different body type from #4, and with the crotch figuring in the composition only by suggestion


(#6) A carefully composed photograph (a Getty image by Fuse): entirely crotch-focused, with one hand in the man’s jeans, apparently fist-stroking his (not visible) penis while the other hand holds his fly open

Negligent hands. Men put their hands in their pants with sexual intent, as above; but also, of course, to urinate, or to scratch an itchy crotch, or to adjust the position of their genitals or their underwear. And also without conscious purpose, negligently, usually for reasons they can’t clearly formulate. The gestures are often associated with particular social groups,  particular presentations of self, and particular contexts, in complex ways; to some degree, men (tacitly) pick up these gestures within their (sub)cultures, in much the same way they pick up phonetic gestures associated with dialects and personas.

There’s a certain amount of popular writing that aims to explain why men engage in displays like these two (from well-known actors):


(#7) Luke Perry in Teen Beat magazine some years ago: both hands


(#8) Zac Efron (photo by Gonzalo): one hand (with some bare torso)

And not just in such very public contexts: a fair number of men, relaxing at home in jeans or underwear, rest one hand (or sometimes both) in their pants, and some put their hands in their pants without thought on more public occasions. The popular-media explanations offered for this behavior — for instance, in a Men’s Health article of 9/4/15 — are that the men are protecting their genitals; that they are warming their hands; that they find the gesture comforting (but not sexual), soothing in much the same way as a light massage (grabbing their junk is an anxiety-relieving gesture for some men); or that they are performing a display of dominance over other men.

Hands in pockets. Searching on “hands in pants” pulls up a fair number of sources about hands in pockets, a state intermediate between being outside the pants and being fully inside. As here:


(#9) Scott Disick, actor and ex-boyfriend of Kourtney Kardashian, with his hands fully in his pockets

Very often, though, the hands in pockets have their thumbs out, so they’re only partway in the pockets, and also frame the crotch:


(#10) Actor Daniel Craig, hands in pockets, thumbs out


(11) Tennis player Novak Djkovic, hands in pockets, thumbs out (also shirtless)

Hooked hands. One step further, preserving the C-shaped framing of the crotch by the hands, but with no more than a thumb in a pocket. A progression of photos of gay pornstar Dirk Caber (all shirtless):


(12) Thumbs hooked on both pockets (of trousers)


(13) One thumb hooked on a pocket, one on a waistband (of jeans)


(14) Both thumbs hooked on a waistband (of a jock strap)

And, finally, actor Victor Webster, shirtless:


(15) Both thumbs hooked on a waistband (of briefs)

None of the hooked-hands poses actually have a hand inside pants, but they do mirror hands-in-pants action from the outside of the pants — displaced gestures related to crotch grabs. As in Calvin Klein’s celebrated underwear ads featuring Marky Mark / Mark Wahlberg:


(16) Crotch grab on the left; on the right, Marky’s package framed merely by his hands at his sides

Hands in pockets are sometimes said to indicate shyness, on what evidence I do not know. Certainly, the thumbs-out variants don’t look insecure or inhibited to me. And then the hooked-hands gestures look assertive or even aggressive to me.

Revisiting 38: More male beauty

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A return to the subject of my 3/10/16 posting “Male beauty”, on cultural categorizations of attractiveness and masculinity, primarily as evidenced in facial characteristics. Adding to the mix (a) yesterday’s posting on my man Jacques Transue as a young “dreamboat” (“Him, 55 years ago”); and (b) repeated passing references here to the Clint Eastwood of the tv series Rawhide (1959-66) as “young and beautiful, but ruggedly handsome”.

A side by side comparison, understanding that both photographs are posed (though in very different ways) and that J’s photo was adjusted in processing to make it a serious and smoothly generic portrait, while Eastwood’s shows him in cowboy character from an episode of the tv show. J is in an earnest student costume, with accompanying facial expression; Eastwood is in cowboy costume as the young drover Rowdy Yates and (in this photo) is half-smiling, companionably.


(#1) “the guy in the photo has gorgeous eyes, and a long lean face of masculine beauty. A dreamboat, as Virginia [Transue] says.”


(#2) Eastwood (born in 1930) inhabiting his character: also an elegant lean face (though not as long as J’s), with beautiful crinkly eyes

They’re both adorable, but in different ways, in part because they are presented as projecting different personas. And also both strongly masculine.

Also: both tall and lanky, leanly muscular, and with a strong physical presence.

More on JHT. (There will be a good bit more on CE below.) A more candid head shot of J at about the same age as Eastwood in #2:

(#3)

When I confided in a mutual (gay) friend about this time that J and I had become lovers, the friend (who knew about my sexuality but not J’s) was astounded: “You’re telling me that Jean-Paul Belmondo is gay?!”  A reference to the French actor, especially noted for his role in Breathless (1960). The young Belmondo (born in 1933), another exemplar of male beauty:

(#4)

Notes on male beauty. Relevant postings before my 3/10/16 one include:

a 8/6/13 posting “Seven Supermen and Brad Pitt”

a 2/29/16 posting “Four mythic hunks”

Among the actors depicted and discussed in these three postings as examples of facial male beauty are Brad Pitt, Robert Redford, Jensen Ackles, and Johnny Depp. I solicited opinions, in a totally unscientific fashion, from a number of women (including two teenagers) and gay men . There was broad agreement over which actors were good-looking, and broad agreement that there were several distinct subcategories of GOODLOOKING-MAN, which they referred to via the labels handsome, cute, beautiful, and hot (with an implicit acknowledgment  that the boundaries were not always clear; with some suggestion that the hot group cross-cuts the other three; and with some inclination to distinguish bad-boy dark beauties like Johnny Depp from sweeter blond beauties like Robert Redford).

It’s clear to me that there’s a rough system of categories here, but one that’s hard to get at through labels in English (and of course exhibits considerable social variability).

There is, in particular, a clearly recognizable subcategory of GOODLOOKING-MAN that has no widely known label in English — unlabeled taxa are in fact fairly common in systems of cultural categories — and it’s relevant to this posting, because it’s the category that Clint Eastwood mostly falls into after his early BEAUTIFUL-MAN period: strikingly tough, even hypermasculine, goodlooking men. Macho hunks, more or less.

You can see the Eastwood Man With No Name character developing in his early years. Here’s the beautiful Eastwood, but shirtless and apparently sexed-up, at 26 (before his success in Rawhide), in a p.r. photo (from the Getty archives):

(#5)

Then comes Rawhide, in which he smiles a lot, usually with his beautiful eyes  wide open, as in #2. But sometimes the smile comes with narrowed eyes (because he is, after all, frequently squinting into the sun, out on the Texas plains), as here:

(#6)

And sometimes, as when he’s confronting some problem or nastiness, unsmiling with those narrowed eyes, as here (still from Rawhide):

(#7)

The beauty has hardened into machismo, and this becomes Eastwood’s default presentation (though the full range of his roles is considerable). From my 5/26/18 posting “Porn for the holidays, with narrowed eyes”:

Narrowed eyes are a regular feature of Clint Eastwood’s characters. Conveying anger, ferocity, intense attention, or dominance, or some combination of these:


(#8) Clint Eastwood Eyes in “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”

We are now a very long way from beautiful. This is one scary dude. Damn good-looking, but whoa!

 

Two actor POP days

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It’s Eva Marie Saint Lucy’s Day and, in today’s Wayno/Piraro Bizarro combo, a Kurt Russell terrier bounds in:


(#1) (If you’re puzzled by the odd symbol in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there’s just one in this strip — see this Page.)

First, Kurt Russell and the Russell terrier. Then Eva Marie Saint and St. Lucy’s Day. In both cases, a member of what I’ve called the Acting Corps (see the Page on this blog), with a name in a POP (a phrasal overlap portmanteau; see the Page on this blog).

To come in another posting, the morning name for yesterday:  the actor name-chain POP Stephen Boyd Gaines, plus a longer name chain that gets from actor Raul Julia to actor Boyd Gaines in 9 steps, with actors Penelope Keith and Keith David in the middle.

Kurt Russell terrier. The actor, from Wikipedia:

Kurt Vogel Russell (born March 17, 1951) is an American actor. He began acting on television at the age of 12 in the western series The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters (1963–1964). In the late 1960s, he signed a ten-year contract with The Walt Disney Company where, according to Robert Osborne, he became the studio’s top star of the 1970s.


(#2) A shirtless young Russell as Jungle Boy in the Gilligan’s Island tv episode “Gilligan Meets Jungle Boy” (2/6/65)

Russell was nominated for a Golden Globe Award for Best Supporting Actor – Motion Picture for his performance in Silkwood (1983).


(#3) Russell, also shirtless but considerably more mature, in Silkwood (1983)

In the 1980s, he starred in several films directed by John Carpenter, including anti-hero roles such as army hero-turned-robber Snake Plissken in the futuristic action film Escape from New York (1981),


(#4) Russell as Snake Plissken in Escape from L.A. (1996) — the image you need to understand the cartoon in #1

and its sequel Escape from L.A. (1996), helicopter pilot R.J. MacReady in the remake of the horror film The Thing (1982), and truck driver Jack Burton in the dark kung-fu comedy action film Big Trouble in Little China (1986), all of which have since become cult films. He was nominated for an Emmy Award for the television film Elvis (1979), also directed by Carpenter.

And the dog. From Wikipedia:


(#5) A Russell terrier, as in #1; photo from the AKC site on the breed

The Russell Terrier is a predominantly white working terrier with an instinct to hunt prey underground. The breed was derived from Jack Russell’s working terrier strains that were used in the 19th century for fox hunting. Russell’s fox working strains were much smaller than the Show Fox Terrier and remained working terriers. The size of the Russell Terrier (10″ to 12″) combined with a small flexible, spannable chest makes it an ideal size to work efficiently underground. Their unique rectangular body shape with the body being of slightly longer length than the leg makes them distinctly different from the Parson Russell Terrier and the Jack Russell Terrier of the Jack Russell Terrier Club of America (JRTCA).

The Russell Terrier originated in England, but the country of development was Australia.

(There appears to be some variant usage in labeling the breeds, but this information will do for understanding #1.)

Eva Marie Saint Lucy’s Day. The actor, from Wikipedia:


(#6) Saint in 1990

Eva Marie Saint (born July 4, 1924) is an American actress. In a career spanning 70 years, she is known for starring in Elia Kazan’s On the Waterfront (1954), for which she won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, and Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959). She received Golden Globe and BAFTA Award nominations for A Hatful of Rain (1957) and won a Primetime Emmy Award for the television miniseries People Like Us (1990). Her film career also includes roles in Raintree County (1957), Exodus (1960), The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming (1965), Grand Prix (1966), Nothing in Common (1986), Because of Winn-Dixie (2005), Superman Returns (2006), and Winter’s Tale (2014).

Then, on my 12/13/12 posting “Lucy”, information about “Santa Lucia” (the song), St. Lucia of Syracuse, and St. Lucy’s Day (December 13th, a specifically Swedish holiday but more widely celebrated), and its seasonal candles and food. From the Munduslingua site article on St. Nicholas’ Day and St. Lucy’s Day:


(#6) A Swedish girl wearing a crown of candles in memory of St. Lucia of Syracuse; light in mid-winter

From my “Lucy” posting:

And in my little urban garden, along with St. Lucy comes the blooming season of the cymbidium orchids (a stand of patio plants that were gifts from me to Jacques over the years). This year the first appearance was of greenish-yellow flowers

Two greenish-yellow cymbidiums are blooming right now, and some clear yellow buds are opening. The first flower stalks to appear — three brownish-red cymbidiums that are clones of the original gift to Jacques in 1987 — were noticeable on October 1st, with buds that have been hovering on opening ever since but have still not actually flowered. The ways of plants are inscrutable.

In any case, they have until January 22nd, Jacques’s birthday, to burst into bloom. I watch and wait.

The year in spam

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The most recent posting on this topic: on 3/5/19, “Another 100k spams”, where I noted that the number of spam comments here (since the blog started in December 2008) passed 5,600,000 on 3/3. Some were automatically deleted by WordPress software, a great many more were made available for bulk deletion (or individual inspection) by me, and some were submitted to me individually for moderation. In periodic spam attacks, comments spam arrives at the rate of more than one per second (until the software wrestles it to the ground again).

That was 3/3. On 7/23, the count passed 5,700,000. And then, yesterday (12/30), 5,800,000. 6 million beckons! (Probably not next year, but soon.)

Along with the current count of spam comments, WordPress supplies daily reports on views of my blog, and a weekly summary. These statistics are stunningly unhelpful, as I’ve explained in earlier postings. They overestimate some views (from spammers collecting links for their spam) and underestimate others.  If they are to be believed, my readership has been steadily declining for some time, and is now about half what it was a few years ago. If I look at the postings that get comments, likes, or links in other sites, it would appear that most postings attract only 10 to 20 readers, but I know that can’t be right (though I am gratified by the attention I get from an appreciative core readership). So my readership is largely a mystery to me.

Here’s the weekly summary from yesterday (12/30):

(#1)

Notes on the searches: see my 6/17/16 posting on New Yorker cartoonist Anatol Kovarsky; I can’t see that I’ve posted on Brian Dietzen, whether fully clothed or shirtless, but it’s definitely something I might have done (see below); and the symbol with a circle and an arrow is the (phallic) male sign ♂.

Brian Dietzen (born 11/14/77) plays medical examiner’s assistant Jimmy Palmer on the original NCIS tv show. His acting niche is Adorable Young Man, but it turns out that he’s not only cute, he’s muscular and hot:


(#2) From Watch! Magazine for June 2016 “He works hard for the muscle” (photography by Cliff Larson)

Top Posts. An amalgam of three contributions, beyond views of the home page / archives by people searching for things:

— first, a list of postings that WordPress recommends to people because they’re the most viewed postings of mine (thereby pretty much ensuring that they go on being the most viewed postings): “The body and its parts” has been on this list forever, and “Sexting with emoji” is also venerable; “Displaying your nipples” and “Crude japery” have more recently floated to the top. It’s all about the sex.

— second, a few very recent postings that attract readers for a short time after they appear: on the list above, “Hung with care” (sex and recency), “Revisiting 40: Bird X” (no sex), and “Holimanteaus and restaumanteaus” (some sex, in the breastaurant department).

— finally, items that pop up from the past because someone linked to them on the net and that attracted a momentary flurry of attention: above, “#BadStockPhotosOfMyJob for linguists”.

Golden jubilee

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For gay men of Gen X now achieving their Golden Year: Surfing for Ulysses:



Thing 1, at the top: from the Hawaii Five-0 logo.

Thing 2, the centerpiece: Scott Caan (as Danno) and Alex O’Loughlin (as Steve), shirtless for surfing, packages at the ready, in the tv police drama. From my 3/14/15 posting “Hawaii Five-0 hunks”:

it’s a buddy drama, a bro show — with significant interludes of muscular shirtlessness

Thing 3, at the bottom, a monetary tribute to Grant in his golden years, before he went wandering in a daze through the Land o’ Dublins, watching the Memorial Golf Tournament on the banks of the Liffey, under the giant Ross Dress for Success banner.

 


Catalectic trochaic tetrameter in the political news

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An exchange this morning on Facebook:

Gadi Niram: I don’t know what the deeper meaning might be here, but “Klobuchar and Buttigieg” has the same stress pattern as “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern”.

Arnold Zwicky: A line of catalectic trochaic tetrameter – SW SW SW S — incredibly common in folk verse of all kinds, and elsewhere. Including: “Lord what fools these mortals be”. Not to mention one reading of: “Captain of our fairy band”. And, from a recent posting of mine: Lincoln Darwin Valentine.


(#1) Captain of our fairy band, for Lincoln Darwin Valentine’s


(#2) Drummer of our fairy band, Luis Illadres of Pansy Division, away from his drum kit to do a shirtless cock-tease (Myspace photo)

The two postings just alluded to:

from 2/13/19, “Captain of our fairy band”, about:

Catalectic trochaic tetrameter: … 4 SW feet, except that the last foot is short.

from 2/13/20, “Lincoln Darwin Valentine Day”

Two relevant postings on Pansy Division:

from 12/16/12, “The gay underwear anthem”, about PD and their half-rhymes in “Groovy Underwear”

from 4/16/17,  “Out gay male bands”, with a section on PD and

their song “Anthem”: “We’re the buttfuckers of rock & roll / We wanna sock it to your hole” … Which sounds aggressive, but is, like almost all their music, cheerful and celebratorily gay.

And then from among earlier postings on the meter:

from 3/20/14, “The lure of trochaic tetrameter”:

Trochees are everywhere in English, and tetrameter is the predominant meter for folk verse of all kinds.

from 2/11/18,  “Briefly: edible trochaic tetrameter”:

Thrée Meat Cróck Pot Cówboy Béans

from 8/11/18, “P-alliterative and tetrametric lines”:

purple rainbow puppy pen (SW SW SW S)

Follow-up: John Rechy

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Yesterday’s posting “High 5 from a bison”, all about number(s), ended with some exposition of John Rechy’s 1967 novel Numbers, about a male hustler collecting lots of tricks — numbers of numbers — on the streets and in the parks of Los Angeles. Now two follow-ups: Soft Cell’s (“Tainted Love”) musical tribute to the novel, and notes on Rechy’s life and career, still going at 88.

Soft Cell. From Wikipedia:

(#1)

The Art of Falling Apart is the second full-length album by the English synthpop duo Soft Cell [Marc Almond and David Ball], released in 1983. [“Numbers” was the 3rd track of 8 on the original album]

(#2)… And you never know their names

Because names make a person real
And there’s no real people in these games

… Until you wake up one day
And find that you’re a number

Rechy and his cohort. To place him in his times: Rechy’s immediate cohort, of gay male writers born close to 1930 (living people’s names in boldface):

†Edward Albee 3/12/28; †Thom Gunn 8/29/29; John Rechy 3/10/31 [note: Rechy doesn’t like the label gay]

Some other men (of gay interest, but not all gay) in this cohort:

†Maurice Sendak 6/10/28; Stephen Sondheim 3/22/30; †Steve McQueen 3/24/30; †Harvey Milk 5/22/30; †James Dean 2/8/31; †Tab Hunter 7/11/31; †Anthony Perkins 4/4/32; Joel Grey 4/11/32

In the preceding cohort, gay male writers born close to 1925 (the list is heavy on poets; hey, that’s one of my things):

†James Baldwin 8/2/24; †Truman Capote 9/30/24; †Yukio Mishima 1/14/25; †Jack Spicer 1/30/25; †James Merrill 3/3/26; †Frank O’Hara 3/27/26; †Allen Ginsberg 6/3/26; †John Ashbery 7/28/27

Some other gay men in this cohort:

†Rock Hudson 11/17/25; †Roy Cohn 2/20/27 [Cohn famously denied being gay]

The cohort following Rechy’s (men born close to 1935) is very sparse indeed, presumably an effect of the Great Depression; for gay male writers, I find only:

Larry Kramer 6/25/35

(My own cohort, of men born close to 1940, is much bigger.)

Webs of association, friendship, and sexual connection are complex and often dense. Thom Gunn taught at Stanford on occasion, but we never met. I never met Ginsberg, but we’re just two steps apart sexually. Otherwise, given our sexual and life histories, it would be remarkable if I were not connected by sexual chains to Rechy, Gunn, O’Hara, and Kramer, but of course the links would just have been nameless numbers (and the chains possibly quite long).

Rechy in old age. After a very long slog of being both reviled and celebrated, and patching together a life from gigs teaching writing at various institutions (at which, I am told by friends, he was very good) and erratic income from his books, with frequent work breaks for hustling and simple tricking as well (activities he is not in the slightest apologetic about — think of them as passionate hobbies), Rechy has reached some sort of apex of his career, with the publication of two books in the past two years, awards and honors, and interviews. He’s now famous in L.A., in gay/queer studies, and in Chicano/Hispanic studies (he’s Mexican-American).

At 88, he is still intensely body-proud, extremely guarded about his emotions, and invested in projecting a strongly masculine identity — and entirely self-aware about all of this.

Two L.A. interviews in 2018, the first focused on his 2017 novel After the Blue Hour, the second on his novel Pablo!, published in 2018.

From the LA Times on 10/19/18, in “John Rechy, a prophet of liberation” by Alex Espinosa:


(#2) “John Rechy, at home in Los Angeles, is the charismatic 87-year-old writer whose “City of Night,” published in 1963, is a landmark of gay literature. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)” [Yes, he dyes his hair. Carefully.]

… He lives at the end of a cul-de-sac in a quiet section of Encino.

… Rechy and his mate Michael (he bristles at the term “partner” or “husband”) meet me at the door. Rechy’s handshake — like his writing, like his very life — is exact, tough, but tender at the same time. His stare is focused, nothing gets past him, and when he gives you that look, you want to linger there with him. At 87, he is still producing work.


(#3) “John Rechy in the 1970s (Collection of John Rechy)”

“After the Blue Hour” was published last February by Grove Press. “The novel is unflinching in its candor even as its events have a tantalizing aura of mystery,” wrote Publisher’s Weekly; Kirkus Review called it “[b]eautifully written.” The novel won the 2018 Lambda Literary award for best gay fiction.

Then from the Los Angeles Review of Books on 9/2/18, in “Technicolor Saints and Celebrated Outlaws: An Interview with John Rechy” by Eric Newman:

[EN:]John Rechy’s latest novel, Pablo! [published in 2018], first written in 1948 when the author was 18–19 years old, reads like a myth. While that quality is owed in part to the Mayan myths that structure the story of a fraught love between “The Woman” and the eponymous Pablo — at least one of these being the myth in which the sun and the moon are lovers ever seeking union with one another and ever failing to achieve it — it is also a quality present in much of Rechy’s writing. What Rechy writes, I suppose I should say, isn’t realist fiction per se (though I’d argue that he captures certain pitches and tones of human desire with a rare honesty), but rather prose that follows haunted wanderers navigating the dreamlike space of society’s fringes.

… [JR:] I hate the word “queer” and all its new iterations. “Gay” was awful enough. “‘Gays’ makes us sound like bliss ninnies,” Christopher Isherwood said once. “Queer” will always be for men of my generation a word of violence and hatred, and it separates generations. And while I’m digressing, let me commit blasphemy: the over-emphasis on the Stonewall riots depletes and distorts our history of resistance and the art produced, which is determinedly referred to as “pre-Stonewall.” Resistance occurred years before Stonewall (but there were lots of writers in New York at the time to write about those riots), in San Francisco, Los Angeles, other cities, powerful confrontations with the police, powerful demonstrations. “Pre-Stonewall” writers include William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, strong radical voices confronting the grave dangers of the time, violence, prison.

Amen on the “pre-Stonewall” rant.

 

In the political news: catalectic trochaic tetrameter

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(This is a new posting, intended as a reconstruction of and replacement for a “Catalectic trochaic tetrameter” posting of 3/1 that was somehow destroyed by WordPress, in such a way that if you try to access the posting under that name you are now automatically re-directed to my 3/1 “Guy gear” posting, which is intriguing but not the same thing at all. This “In the political news” posting quotes some sexual street talk but isn’t about men’s bodyparts or mansex, so I’m not warning anyone off. But it’s not all sunshine and roses.)

A Facebook dialogue from 2/29:

Gadi Niram: I don’t know what the deeper meaning might be here, but “Klobuchar and Buttigieg” has the same stress pattern as “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern”.

Arnold Zwicky: A line of catalectic trochaic tetrameter – SW SW SW S — incredibly common in folk verse of all kinds, and elsewhere. Including: “Lord what fools these mortals be”. Not to mention one reading of: “Captain of our fairy band”. And, from a recent posting of mine: “Lincoln Darwin Valentine”.

From my 2/13/19 posting “Captain of our fairy band”:


(#1) Captain of our fairy band: Lincoln Darwin Valentine (a double dose of CTT; note that double dose of CTT is itself CTT)

Even better, our drummer, Luis Illades of Pansy Division:


(#1) Drummer of our fairy band: Illades, away from his drum kit to perform a shirtless cock tease

About Pansy Division, on this blog:

from 12/16/12, in “The gay underwear anthem”: about PD and their song “Groovy Underwear”

from 4/16/17, in “Out gay male bands”, from a section on PD:

One reference in [the posting title “The gay underwear anthem”] is to [PD’s] song “Anthem”: “We’re the buttfuckers of rock & roll / We wanna sock it to your hole” (the other is to gay underwear). Which sounds aggressive, but is, like almost all their music, cheerful and celebratorily gay.

Trochaic tetrameter, and especially CTT. A few postings on this blog. First, on TT generally:

from 3/20/14, in “The lure of trochaic tetrameter”:

Trochees are everywhere in English, and tetrameter is the predominant meter for folk verse of all kinds.

And then some CTT postings, leading to the double dose of CTT in #1:

from 10/13/17, in “Ascending and parting”: the cartoonist’s name

Jason Adam Katzenstein

from 12/11/17, in “Exercises in high macho style”:

Teddy bears and hand jobs is a nicely parallel coordination, of two N + N compounds, the whole thing making a trochaic tetrameter line with a superstrong [douby catalectic] second half:
S W | S W | S | S

from 12/27/17, in ” Morning tetrameter naming”:

Xénophón Bellérophón

from 2/11/18, in “Briefly: edible trochaic tetrameter”:

Thrée Meat Cróck Pot Cówboy Béans

from 8/11/18, “P-alliterative and tetrametric lines”:

purple rainbow puppy pen (SW SW SW S)

 

Portrait of a man: the head and bare torso image

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On HT (head + torso) images of men.

In a painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a photograph: the face projecting a persona, an identity, a character; the naked torso presenting this character as a carnal being: an embodiment of gender, a sexual object, and an assertion of vitality.

The briefest of introductions to my first response on seeing this photograph of two men on a beach (with surfboards in the background), so that their shirtlessness is natural in the context:


(#1)  Alex Schulze (left) and Andrew Cooper (right)

— which was, basically, “Ooh, how adorable! And hot!” (I am capable of being as superficial as anybody around; though context is everything.) Good-looking faces, though far from movie-star quality, and wonderful crinkly-eyed smiles. Naturally fit swimmers’ bodies — well, they’re surfer dudes — which please me greatly.

Then I realized the photo was just the intro shot for a commercial for the 4Ocean company, founded by these guys, and that if they hadn’t looked like this, they would no doubt have hired two surfer dudes who did, whose faces and bodies would sell stuff for the company. (You can watch the 2018 commercial “Join the Clean Ocean Moment”  in this iSpot.tv piece on the company.)

From the company site:

The story begins when Alex and Andrew take a surf trip…

to Bali Indonesia that would inevitably change their lives and the fate of the ocean. Devastated by the amount of plastic in the ocean, they set out to find out why no one was doing anything about it. One afternoon they came across an old fishing village where fishermen were literally pushing their boat through piles of plastic that had washed up on shore. The two surfers realized that the proliferation of plastic threatened both the ocean environment and the fishermen’s livelihood. Could the fishermen use their nets, they wondered, to pull the plastic from the ocean? This idea stuck with the 2 surfers and they knew it was time to hit the drawing board. After realizing that the demand for seafood was driving the fishermen to focus on fish instead of plastic, they knew they had to create something that could fund the desired cleanup efforts. This is how the 4ocean Bracelet was born.

Made with recycled materials, every bracelet purchased funds the removal of 1 pound of trash from the ocean and coastlines. In less than 2 years, 4ocean has removed 4,977,880 pounds of trash from the ocean and coastlines.

4ocean currently operates out of multiple countries and employs over 150 people worldwide.

Alex and Andrew: buddies together:

(#2)

Brief digression: I occasionally remark on the importance of close and supportive same-sex friendships (for both women and men). And I note that such relationships are usually without any sexual component; it is certainly possible for your best buddy / your best girl friend to be your lover, as I can personally attest, but straight folks generally gain a lot from a trusted friend of the same sex. We all live in many social worlds at once, and get different benefits from each of them.

I also note that the arms-around-each-other’s-shoulders presentation is a guy guy thing. (I am not a guy guy and have never been acceptable to guy guys, but as an alien in their world I have studied their ways, some of them to my mind admirable, others appalling and dangerous.)

But a bit more about 4Ocean, from a CNBC story of 9/7/19 by Tom Huddleston Jr.: “These 20-something surfers started a company that’s pulled 1 million pounds of garbage out of the ocean”:

In 2015, Florida surfers Andrew Cooper and Alex Schulze embarked on a post-college trip to Bali in search of big waves. What they found were beaches buried in garbage.

But the friends also came home with a big idea for a multimillion-dollar business to help clean the world’s oceans.

Cooper, 28, and Schulze, 27, first met as college students at Florida Atlantic University, where they both studied business and graduated in 2014. The following year, the two friends set off for a three-week surfing trip to Bali, Indonesia — an island in the Indian Ocean that’s a mecca for the sport.

In addition to being popular with tourists, Indonesia is also second only to China among the world’s biggest polluters. When Cooper and Schulze arrived, they were immediately struck by the massive pollution that chokes Bali’s beaches with trash that washes up from the ocean.

“Pretty much right when we got [to the beach] the first thing we saw was an overwhelming amount of plastic,” Cooper tells CNBC Make It. It was a vista strewn with everything from plastic bottles and bags to used food containers and other refuse.

Cooper and Schulze saw so much plastic that they approached a lifeguard: “I said, ‘Hey, man, how come there’s all this plastic on the beach and no one’s doing anything about it?’” Cooper recalls. The lifeguard responded that the government cleaned the beaches every morning, only to watch more and more trash wash up with the tide throughout the day.

“That was a real eye-opener for us,” Cooper says.

It was on that trip that Cooper and Schulze first had the idea that led them to found 4Ocean, a for-profit business that pulls plastic and glass waste from oceans around the world in order to repurpose it by making bracelets out of those recycled materials. 4Ocean sells each bracelet for $20 with the promise that the money from each purchase will fund one pound of trash removal.

In July, Boca Raton, Florida-based 4Ocean announced that it had pulled more than 1 million pounds of plastic, glass and other trash from the ocean since the company launched in January 2017. Cooper and Schulze say 4Ocean has sold just more than $30 million worth of recycled bracelets to fund their ongoing cleanup efforts.


(#3) The 4Ocean signature blue bracelet; there are many other variants, featuring dophins, sharks, coral reefs, polar bears, jellyfish, seahorses, sea turtles, etc.

They still have a long way to go.

Another side issue: physiognomy. A widely held folk belief is that character and other personal characteristics like intelligence can be “read off” enduring features of the face. In the context of HT (head + torso) images of men, like #1 ( with “the face projecting a persona, an identity, a character”, as I put it above), the folk theory abstracts away from momentary facial expressions, details of grooming (like hairstyles), stance, and other less enduring features, to posit an underlying character type.

For Alex and Andrew, it takes a little work to find a photo of them not flashing their characteristic smiles: Alex’s spread-lipped open-mouthed grin and Andrew’s somewhat narrower smile, both smiling openly with their eyes as well as their mouths. But here they are in a more reflective moment:

(#4)

Andrew’s long thin face would be taken to indicate a cautious, judicious temperament, while Alex’s more rectangular face and very regular features convey masculine power, solidity, and trustworthiness. Or so some would think.

The noun physiognomy in its several senses (from NOAD), senses a and b being the relevant ones here:

noun physiognomy: [a] a person’s facial features or expression, especially when regarded as indicative of character or ethnic origin. [b] the supposed art of judging character from facial characteristics. [c] the general form or appearance of something: the physiognomy of the landscape.

Some extracts from the Wikipedia entry:

Physiognomy (from the Greek φύσις physis meaning “nature” and gnomon meaning “judge” or “interpreter”) is a practice of assessing a person’s character or personality from their outer appearance — especially the face

… The practice was well accepted by the ancient Greek philosophers, but fell into disrepute in the Middle Ages when practised by vagabonds and mountebanks. It was then revived and popularised by Johann Kaspar Lavater before falling from favour again in the late 19th century. Physiognomy as understood in the past meets the contemporary definition of a pseudoscience.

… Physiognomy also became of use in the field of Criminology through efforts made by Italian army doctor and scientist, Cesare Lombroso. Lombroso, during the mid 19th century, championed the notion that “criminality was inherited and that criminals could be identified by physical attributes such as hawk-like noses and bloodshot eyes”

(Physiognomically, I have a weak, “feminine” face: large eyes well spaced, heart-shaped face with a classic “weak chin” (which I have concealed behind facial hair since 1969)  — plus no Adam’s apple. All this marks me out as a queer, which in this case is entirely accurate. But of course millions of straight guys look like this too.)

Shirtless days. HT images come in two parts, and it’s their combination that provides them with their interest. Not just faces on their own, or torsos on their own, but the compound of the two, each amplifying the message of the other.

Meanwhile, shirtlessness has been a regular theme on this blog, almost always always with faces (I find headless torsos kind of creepy), so I’ve accumulated tons of HT images, many of them linked to on my Page on shirtlessness postings. Note the exclusions:

excluded, for the most part: photos of men who are shirtless by virtue of their occupations — pornstars, underwear models, models for male photographers, swimmers and divers, dancers

As it turns out, most shirtless displays include not only faces, but also at least some portion of a crotch (clothed, but often prominent); including a pointer to the male genitals, even teasingly, tends to tip the scales of the image in favor of male sexuality. HTC (head, torso, and crotch) images are then something of a different species from HT ones.

In addition, in some shirtless displays, the men are also doing a sexualized side display, usually pitsntits, but sometimes biceps flexing or another beefcake pose.

Even so, my collection has lots of satisfying uncomplicated HT images. Two here, chosen because they are of actors whose work I’ve admired.

Bobby Cannavale. From my 1/11/15 posting “Bobby Cannavale”, about the versatile, hard-working actor:


(#5) Posing, in a serious mood, gazing intently at his viewers, for Out magazine (Cannavale is straight but excellently gay-friendly)

Cannavale is a very physical actor, employing his face and body for both large effects and subtle ones. Always a pleasure to watch. … You will see that he’s a lean man, not a muscleguy.

Eddie Cahill. From my 3/4/15 posting “Hunks of CSI: NY”


(#6) The amiable and enjoyable actor in his working-class NYC guise, also in a serious mood (given to broad smiles otherwise); admirable pecs (just right, like Alex’s and Andrew’s in #1)

A high-masculinity, Greek-athlete pose. Waiting for the sculptor to craft him in stone.

 

 

The measure of a man: HTC

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(Scantily clad men flaunting their bodies, so not to everyone’s taste.)

Two representations of the male body, head to thigh, celebrating masculine faces, masculine bare torsos, and the male genitals. HTC — head, torso, crotch — images.

Previously, in yesterday’s posting on this blog, “Portrait of man: the head and bare torso image”, about HT images:

the head and bare torso image: In a painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a photograph: the face projecting a persona, an identity, a character; the naked torso presenting this character as a carnal being: an embodiment of gender, a sexual object, and an assertion of vitality.

Now add to this the crotch, at least minimally clothed, but containing and hinting at the male genitals within — so substantially magnifying the sexual messages of the torso.

The Tomato birthday card. A birthday card — a Tomato® card (from RedtreeStudios.com) from Jeanne Dusseault, dated 9/19/19 (a bit late for my birthday on 9/6), with two entertaining HTC guys (displaying their pecs and abs, looking casual in the crotch):


(#1) The front of the card


(#2) The greeting inside

(Playing on a systematic ambiguity in agentive –er derivatives from verbs: between instrument (a device for toasting, for dishwashing) and human actor (someone who toasts things, who washes dishes).)

Modus Vivendi swim briefs. The Daily Jocks ad from 8/26/19 (marking the 30th anniversary of the Modus Vivendi line):


(#3) An absurdly exaggerated display of homomasculinity: strongly masculine face, butch haircut, and a Dominant Top glare; a comic-book bodybuilder torso; and the briefest of briefs, in fag-neon pink — altogether quite remarkable

Also offered at the time:


(#4) ad copy: “The new Modus Vivendi Bodybuilding Low Cut Brief is the ultimate minimalistic swim brief. It features a full coverage back and front part lining.”

The stylized models (headless, alas) have fantasy swimmer’s torsos — a body type that is, however, fairly often realized in real men. And then there are the well-filled pouches, now the focus of the display.

From the MV webpage:

About Us: The story of Modus Vivendi is the culmination of a Dream. A Dream to go beyond limited choices.

Based in Thessaloniki, Greece, Modus Vivendi launched in December 1989 by the Greek Designer Christos Bimpitsos as a more tailored approach to exclusive men’s underwear, swimwear & sportswear.

All of our garments are designed and manufactured in Greece. From the high quality fabrics, to the exclusive hand-design and luxurious packaging, expect nothing but the best.

The Modus Vivendi team works closely with specially selected partners to ensure that our quality is the best in the men’s underwear world. Throughout the decades we have developed our collections to offer a style to suit every preference, always using the finest fabrics for unparalleled softness and comfort.

Our Vision: The MV World draws inspiration from our Vision: to deliver a new experience in men’s underwear fashion with the Male Way of Life. We want you to set new standards and express yourself and your diversity starting with your underwear. We teetherbreak norms in fashion and bring fun in the design of men’s underwear, leaving behind the traditional and plain boring underwear.

Our Moto [sic] was and always be: `We do what we do because we love it`.

The Male Way of Life: Respecting diversity Modus Vivendi creates Unique Collections of underwear, swimwear, sportswear, loungewear, streetwear and accessories each with its own distinctive character, all designed in spectacular patterns and colors of outstanding beauty.

‘Modus Vivendi Male Way of Life’ redefines men’s underwear with elegance, authenticity and edgy designs, and underpins this with personal care and seamless service.

Highlights from earlier postings on this blog:

on 5/8/18 in “My skivvies are my lifestyle”, with the ad copy:

Their name, Modus Vivendi, is their philosophy. From Latin, Modus Vivendi translates to lifestyle or way of life. Their name reflects their design and manufacturing approach to everything they make; it is not just a product or just a brand, it reflects a lifestyle.

on 4/16/20 in “The Grim Mouser”, with the ad copy:

Sleek, stylish and renowned for its powerful designs, Modus Vivendi underwear is a Thessaloniki based brand with a God-like aesthetic.

Yes, they are that earnest and visionary. But they are also really, really queer. Which brings us to (in my estimation) their current high point of outrageous homowear display:

on 7/20/20 in “Gay couple in Pouchland”, on the MV Peace line of underwear, with two sex-drenched HTC displays, presented not as from two separate men, but as from two men in an intense sexual relationship, moreover one framed as dominant with subordinate. Not your father’s underwear ad, not even close.

 

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