38 Days Until I Move to San Diego.
I alternate between feeling totally calm and ready and centered about the whole thing and feeling like I can't breathe. The full weight of things I have to accomplish before I leave -- find a renter for my apartment, pack and ship all the stuff I'm taking, sell all the stuff I'm not, forward my mail, transfer my utilities, have a goodbye dinner with every single person I've ever known, and on and on and on -- is overwhelming to the point of panicked exhaustion.
Then of course there are all the things I have to do after I get there, among them buying a car and finding a way to make money. In short, I feel like a minnow swimming against the current at high tide.
Me. Appropriate, given that I'm a Pisces.
On the other hand, I've undertaken enormous challenges before (insert dirty joke here), and I know I'm completely capable of getting it all done, one task at a time, if I just take a breath. Also, I cannot wait to be out there, living with Boy Wonder, and embarking on a whole new life that I can invent from scratch. It makes me feel like 20-something kid again.
If only I still had those 20-something abs.
I'm definitely starting to realize how weird it will be to have my entire family 3,000 miles away -- instead of 45 minutes away. This past Saturday was my mom's 67th birthday. It was the first time in my adult life that she didn't celebrate it on Gay Pride weekend, which was like a little gift from God. Also, for the first time in 28 years, my parents spent her birthday weekend in Summit instead of Amagansett. A good time (and pink cake) was had by all.
Papa Lew and Mama Phy, pretty in pastels.
Family Affair. Clockwise from top left: Cousin Stacey, Cousin Jodi, Sister Laura, Me and Sister Anna, showing some nice tittage.
Granny, 91, argues the merits of Barack Obama with her bald, Republican grandson-in-law, Guy.
The summer TV season is in full swing, and I must say I'm enjoying the return of several of my favorites, including "Weeds" and "So You Think You Can Dance." I was also fascinated by the Season Two premiere of "The Two Coreys."
If you're a man who can tell which Corey is which, you are gay.
For the uninitiated among you, Corey Feldman and Corey Haim were both huge teen idols in the 80s. (They are both now 37, the same age as me.)
Separately, Feldman is best known for "Goonies" and "Stand By Me" and Haim for "Lucas." Together they starred in one mega-hit -- "The Lost Boys" -- and a bunch of forgettable crapfests.
Then they both became druggies, stopped making movies and faded into obscurity for two decades. (Feldman has popped up now and then, most notably as a perennial guest on "The Howard Stern Show" and on season one of "The Surreal Life.")
Anyway, they reunited last year for the purpose of a reality show, the premise of which was that Haim -- still a class A drug addict and all-around fuck-up -- moved in with the relatively stable Feldman and his comely wife, Susie. Tumult ensued, ending with Haim's calling Susie a bitch (which she is).
Now it's season two. The Coreys have supposedly not spoken to one another in six months, and they must make nice if they want to appear together in the straight-to-video "Lost Boys 2" movie (and continue this insipid reality show).
Ho-hum, who cares, right?
Wrong! This new season is awesome. One the first episode, it was revealed that as a 15-year-old, Haim was molested by Feldman's best friend (!), and that Feldman knew, and did nothing about it (!).
"I was being molested at the same time!" Feldman counters.
My first reaction -- and I don't mean to seem insensitive or crass here -- is this: Isn't 15 a little old to be molested? Especially for a boy? Especially if the alleged molester was also a teenager? I mean, is that really abuse, or is it just plain gay?
(Sidebar, I did a bit about this last night at the "Dykes on Mics" show at RubyFruit and ignited fury among all the lesbians in the audience. Apparently, lesbians don't like jokes about sex abuse. Note to self.)
Then it hit me: Who was Corey Feldman's best friend in the 80's?
I'll give you a hint: He wasn't the father of Billie Jean's kid.
Clearly I wasn't the only one to deduce this. The Internet has been abuzz since the Sunday broadcast with speculation that Jacko was the one diddling both Coreys. Feldman has since denied that, but it all seems a bit too coincidental to me.
In any case, I am so watching more of "The Two Coreys."
That's all for now. I won't be hosting Therapy this Sunday because it's Gay Pride, and I'll be off gallivanting.
But come see me host this show (and yes, I know I'm not on the poster, but trust me -- I'm hosting it):
(Click to enlarge)
Oh, and there's a nice piece on gay comedy that mentions me on a site called New York Edge. Read it here.
Homo out. ♥
Coming soon: New audio, new video.