Suddenly it's summer again, which means eavesdropping and reporting back from Fire Island Pines to learn how the gays function. All dialogue based on real conversation.
ACT 1 SCENE 1
INT. PENN STATION, LONG ISLAND RAILROAD TERMINAL
In the Friday afternoon hustle-bustle of Penn Station, three figures stand out in the crowd. Named after their jackets HOODIEGAY, LOGOGAY, and CANVASGAY, the shortest of whom is six feet tall, each have two large pieces of luggage, and cell phones posted at their ears. One carries a bag from McDonald’s.
LOGOGAY points toward Track 21 and the other two follow down the stairs and, after some hand-gestured deliberation, choose seats. HOODIEGAY and CANVASGAY end their conversations, pocketing their respective iPhone and Samsung Glyde phones.
CANVASGAY: "He yelled at me."
HOODIEGAY: "He's a yeller. All architects are. They can't handle pressure and then they start yelling. Which is why I don't date architects. Ever."
CANVASGAY: "But there was no reason to yell."
HOODIEGAY: “He missed the train. He’s carrying those bags, and he’s got the dog.”
CANVASGAY: “My poor blind doggie.”
HOODIEGAY: “But it’s not like he’s alone, right? He left work with Barry?”
CANVASGAY: “He was yelling at him too.”
[LOGOGAY puts down a Blackberry 7100 and picks up a Blackberry Curve and begins typing. CANVASGAY’s phone rings.]
HOODIEGAY: “What’s that gay noise? [Turning to LOGOGAY] And why do you have two phones?”
LOGOGAY: “One’s for work, and one’s for play. I don’t combine the two. Are they still fighting?”
HOODIEGAY: “It’s not a fight. Rigo is just, uh, expressing himself. You know how the Latinos are. Everything is passionate. [Looks down at a vintage Rolex.] He’s going to be really passionate in about a minute. Make that now. The door’s are closing. [Turning to CANVASGAY] Vinny. [Waving hand in front of CANVASGAY’s face] You can tell him he missed the train.
CANVASGAY: No. I can’t. He hung up on me.
HOODIEGAY: What’s done is done. He’ll catch the next train and catch up when we transfer.
LOGOGAY: No. He won’t. This is an express to Babylon.
HOODIEGAY: It will all work out. [Reaching into McDonald’s bag] Here. Eat your sammich. What are these anyway?
CANVASGAY: I just feel bad because he’s bringing the dog and Carlo is a lot of work.
LOGOGAY: Carlo the blind dog we’ve heard so much about?
CANVASGAY: My baby Carlito. He can’t help …
HOODIEGAY: It’s bad enough I’m eating McDonald’s, but it’s worse I’m eating alone. Eat, Vinny. You want a bite, Tad? What are these? They’re delicious.
CANVASGAY: Southern style chicken sandwich. Fried chicken on a simple buttered bun and pickles. It’s like a picnic.
HOODIEGAY: Ugh. I’m having my fattest summer ever, for sure. Whatever they’re using for butter flavor really sticks with you. Wonderful.
CANVASGAY: I’m just dreading my phone ringing again.
HOODIEGAY: Me too. You have a gay ringtone.
CANVASGAY: It’s not gay; it’s pretty.
END ACT 1; SCENE 1
TO BE CONTINUED ...
Last summer saw me eavesdropping on and reporting back from Fire
Island Pines. Gawker isn't running "And the Brand Played On" again this
summer, but with "the season" rapidly coming up, it's time to re-visit
the concept. The following originally appeared June 20, 2007. All dialogue 100% verbatim.
EXT. THE BOARDWALK OUTSIDE THE BLUE WHALE, FIRE ISLAND PINES
The boardwalk along the harbor is a throng of gay men. The entrance
into the afternoon event known as "Low Tea" is not dissimilar to a
fallopian tube: Freshly washed and coiffed gays travel up the narrow
stairwell like thoughtless sperm. The crowd-flow directs us to the
stiff angular movements of FLAGHAG. A bubblegum pink shirtdress and an
organized mop of caustic blonde hair move in opposition to her tiny,
sunburned frame. She is surrounded by men more than a half-foot taller.
In her hands are napkins.
BRIAN (Looking down to FLAGHAG.)
You want another Pink Panties? (Arches right eyebrow.)
FLAGHAG
Omigod. I love the Pink Panties. Ella-ella-eh-eh-eh.
The flow moves us in a new direction, at first following an unspeaking, pouty BRIAN and a singing FLAGHAG toward the front bar, but then shifting us through sliding glass doors to the interior dance floor. JAGHAG dances to Loleatta Holloway's Relight My Fire with a male friend. They both make jazz hands that occasionally touch the other's waist.
ANOTHER BRIAN
You should. You've got the short hair. The butch attitude. Girls would love you.
JAGHAG
I don't care. I love penises. Love. Love. Love.
ANOTHER BRIAN
There was a picture of you and a lesbian at your apartment. Who was she?
JAGHAG (Punches ANOTHER BRIAN.)
Shut. Up! What are you talking about?
ANOTHER BRIAN
In that front hallway. You and a lesbian.
JAGHAG (Pauses, mouth agape.)
That's not a lesbian! That's my brother!
As the music changes, the crowd pushes back toward the middle entrance of a full back hallway, which leads at one end toward bathrooms and at the other toward the service bar. The area around the back bar is less crowded and FASHIONHAG stands near the bar smoking a cigarette. An Hermes scarf holds back shiny-healthy shoulder length hair. Perfectly applied blush and lipstick adorn her Asian-American features and her white strapless jumper minidress. FASHIONHAG approaches the bar and puts the cigarette out. ALEX runs toward her.
FASHIONHAG
Omigod. It looks like an ashtray. A simple perfect ashtray. I...
Omigod. I was wondering why they had such nice ashtrays. It's so
Philippe Starck. I... Laughs.)
ALEX (Laughs too.)
Omigod. I love you. I'm Alex.
FASHIONHAG
Jennifer.
ALEX
I'm so drunk. I need a bump. Do you have a bump?
FASHIONHAG
Of cocaine? I can't do cocaine. I'm on Oxycontin.
ALEX
Can I have one?
FASHIONHAG
All mine, sahhhh-ree.
ALEX (Points at a SOUTHEAST ASIAN TWINK.)
Do you know Sanjaya?
FASHIONHAG
Who? (She looks.) Oh, you're bad. But that's not Sanjaya. That's Sanjaya. (She
points at a TALL PUERTO RICAN that looks even less like Sanjaya than
SOUTHEAST ASIAN TWINK, and who wears a skin-tight plaid shirt and
calf-length pants.) Omigod. Sanjaya's feeling the music. I don't want to go to rehab. I said no, no, no.
RANDOM PASSING GAY (Loudly, over the music and crowd.)
I don't wanna go to Meatrack. I said no, no, no.
JENNIFER
Omigod. Sanjaya is trying for Thom Brown but just giving clam-digger. (Seeing a camera, holds metallic purse to face, yells.) Gerard! I'm giving you the Meisel!
The crowd is now flowing toward the front entrance again. As the entrance is approached, napkins can be seen fluttering wildly from the hands of FLAGHAG.
Last summer saw me eavesdropping in and reporting back from Fire Island. Gawker isn't running "And the Brand Played On" again this summer, but with "the season" rapidly coming up, it's time to re-visit the concept. The following originally appeared June 12, 2007. All dialogue 100% verbatim.
INT. A LONG ISLAND RAILROAD CAR, EAST-BOUND
The afternoon train is crowded, with a mix of those leaving Manhattan after a long day of work and those that are beach-bound. The commuters read papers and magazines, sleep, and talk quietly amongst themselves, but one voice rises above them. GREENTWINK talks on a cell phone and sits on the window side of a pair of seats with YELLOWTWINK. Both are wearing what appear to be freshly pressed Izod shirts in the colors of their names. Both wear over-sized sunglasses with lenses that coyly reveal the movements of the eyes concealed within.
YELLOWTWINK (Knits his sculpted eyebrows.)
How old is that phone?
GREENTWINK
Oh god, I know. I'm holding out for the iPhone.
YELLOWTWINK
Right? ...But have you seen the Prada phone? I saw it online today.
GREENTWINK
I don't know. The iPhone will have that screen that
turns both ways and can play movies. Is the Prada phone just a phone or
does it at least have a mp3 player?
YELLOWTWINK
Mm. I didn't read the article, just saw the picture.
YELLOWTWINK looks up as SALMONTWINK passes in the aisle. He wears a salmon-color deep-vee American Apparel tee shirt. After SALMONTWINK passes, YELLOWTWINK wrinkles his nose, making a "what's that smell" face.
GREENTWINK
That color is off though. I'd like it in pink. Do they sell a pink?
YELLOWTWINK
I think so. But everybody is starting to wear them.
GREENTWINK
That sucks.... So I think I'm going to get the iPhone.
YELLOWTWINK
But it's first generation. Mac's not good for first generation things.
GREENTWINK
But this pho-one! I ha-ate it! So-o much!
TRAIN ANNOUNCEMENT
This station is Bayshore. The next station [Garbled].
GREENTWINK
Did he say Sayville? We're next right? I think we're next. (He squeals.)
You're almost there! I want to jump in a cab so I can go to Stop &
Shop and grab some things. We won't miss the ferry. Promise.
YELLOWTWINK
My bag is so-o heavy.
GREENTWINK
I hate my bag. I need a new bag.
BOTH leave their seats to stand near the door as the train pulls into a station.
From a distance, GREENTWINK can be heard speaking over the announcement.
YELLOWTWINK
My bag is so-o heavy.
What happens when you squeeze the "world's first bear band" in a room with a publicist, manager (Cyndi Lauper's ex-husband), another publicist, a videographer and, well, me? Find out in this video interview with Bear Force One, done last night for Gawker.
A more long-form piece on this tomorrow, but I caught some bits of the Jackson Heights Pride parade yesterday on video. My intention, capture the archetypes of the gay pride parade so as to have them on video and never have to attend a parade again. Gawker picked up the video (with their Video Editor Richard much improving the quality) and you can catch it here.
One of the victims of my recent ailments has been the apartment. My little abode is a little mess, so I did the logical thing: placed a craigslist ad for a helper.
Unfortunately, all the responses sort of missed the mark, from the overly chummy ("Meeting more people in the neighborhood is always great.") to the overly scary ("I am a straight guy, and I do not play games.") Left to my own devices, a concise plan was made to hit the kitchen. Surfaces, floors, windows (inside and out), nooks, crannies, refrigerator.
With this completed, a self-treat was in order. Feeling people-deprived, the plan was to walk down the piers, then up Christopher, have one beer, go to the Eagle, eat one burger, have one beer and return home. Among the three locales, there were bound to be known quantities. This theory held as true:The following were seen (in order of appearance):
Starting at the Dugout: Dustin, Bryce, Neil, Nello, Tom, Dan, Scott, Ed, Paul, Joe, Peter
Then after a ride to the Eagle with three of the above: The majority of the above plus Paul, Vasco, Eric, Alex, Tony, Chris.
Yes, an incredibly dull listing of generic male names and not my usual style.
The point of this scattershot post being that after a too-long hibernation, the city is back. Or, as the most common greeting was "I haven't seen you in forever," maybe I am. Or maybe it is a bit of both.
