Wonderful New York

It's not that people in New York City are assholes.

It's simply that they have forgotten how to be polite.

Case(s) in point --

Yesterday the following took place during a normal day in the city:

• I held the door open for an elderly woman at a bakery so she could enter before me. A young man rushed passed both of us and said 'thank you', despite the fact he clearly saw I was holding the door for the older woman.

• Two children were standing at the top of a subway platform in Queens - one was 2 and one was 3 - and both were crying and shaking terribly. Throngs of people passed and no one said anything to the kids or asked if they were okay. I stopped, asked where their Mommy or Daddy were. The older boy pointed to his elderly Mother at the base of the stairs. She was struggling to lift her stroller. Throngs of people passed her and didn't stop. I ran downstairs, helped her with the stroller and made sure she was set and on her way.

• At my job, someone forgot to confirm an appointment because their daughter broke their leg. A person who shall go unnamed at my office demanded I force them to come to the meeting despite what happened to their daughter. I told this unnamed executive I didn't want to be a jerk to this person whose daughter broke their leg. The executive replied, "You're losing your edge. I thought you were a New Yorker."

• Three times I entered stores and all three times no one held the door open after them, but instead, rushed ahead, never once looking behind them.

And as I was about to publish this, this just happened to me:

I was standing on the E train, staring at a fantastic painting on the train wall. It was of silhouette figures in NYC inside of buildings. You had to look closely to figure out where they were, but if you did look, it was fascinating, because you could see a gym, a school, a restaurant, a massage parlor...it was a visual detective game. How fun! I was engrossed in the painting when I heard someone gasp behind me.

I turned around and this young girl had fainted!

Now, in other cities, I think the way most people would react to someone fainting ten feet away from them is to help them. Not in NYC. Everyone actually moved AWAY from the woman, except for one large older gal. She helped the girl up and asked her if she was okay. Clearly, the woman who fainted wasn't. She was a little thing, maybe 21, and her face was as white as the driven snow.

The woman gave her a piece of candy (I guess thinking she fainted because she was a diabetic). It was a lovely gesture, but please, you don't FAINT on a subway in NYC because you forgot to eat your Reese's before you left the house. The older woman then walked away from the girl and said she'd be fine.

Clearly, the young girl wasn't going to be fine. She was white as a ghost, her eyes kept lowering and she was nodding forward. We were coming to my stop in the city. Now, what went through my head was this: my boss is going to be annoyed if I'm not at my desk when he wants me to be at my desk. I should go to the office and let the girl do her own thing. But here is the rub: I knew that wasn't the right thing to do. I knew this was Life saying, Okay - what you gonna do, Son? You gonna step clear of her like everyone else is? Or you gonna step up?

I looked down at this little thing and knew what I had to do. I bent down and told her on the next stop I was going to get off with her and take her to the doctor. She mumbled something to me in Russian. I said I wasn't taking no for an answer. I looked behind me and asked if anyone would help me get her off the train and to a doctor.

Everyone said they had to go to work.

No one helped.

Matter of fact, they looked away. The women around me stared at me with wide, open and compassionate eyes but were unwilling to help.

I helped her off the train, rubbing her back the entire time. Poor thing. I got her to sit down and told her to sit still until I got back. She mumbled "Okay. Thank you..." and off I toddled and met an MTA employee, Dan Waldroff.

Dan came over and got her medical attention. I gave her my number and left. Before we parted I asked her name. "Tatiana" she replied, a smile on her face. Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you very much. I must get my family members now," she said. I patted her on the back and left.

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I'm no nun.

I don't write this to illustrated how loving and caring I am.

I write this to illustrated how people who live in New York City are conditioned to be tough, abrasive and self-absorbed.

If you were to stop any of the people in any of these situations and explain to them how they were being unaware, you would get one of two reactions:

A) Confusion - they would have no idea there were other people there besides themselves, or...

B) Defensiveness - they would say they were being nice enough but they have a job to keep and things to do and have to leave. NOW.

This is the great flaw of daily life in New York. It is a tough town and people lose their center and become tough to survive. It's very ego-driven at the cost of basic kindness.

To do the right thing means to be in touch with your mores, aka, what sociologists would define as the conventions that embody the fundamental values of a group.

Everyone on that train knew the socially correct thing to do was to help the girl. The values we embody support kindness and helping others. But for some reason we don't always act on those.

I feel we all have an obligation to ourselves but to others as well. That is the reason I write this blog. The cooking show idea is now non-existent, so this forum is simply my way of supporting and advocating the display of social mores, albeit with cooking or with art.

It's like RuPaul always -- "I like to be sassy, not bitchy." Couldn't agree more.

Sassy is fun. Bitchy is tired and annoying!

Can I get an amen?

AMEN!

Which is why yesterday I had to make a warm, comforting meal at home. It was so good, I had to blog about it.

Try this and you will be amazed. It's a long one - about 3 hours from start to finish - but the prep and cooking time are only about 45 minutes.

May I present...

Mikey's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Pork Chile Verde!

Sometimes I make a meal that is so good Andy and I just stare at each other in amazement. This was one of those meals.

Come with me darlings as we COOK UP A STORM!

Prep time: 45 minutes to 1 hour

Cooking time: 2 - 3 hours (very little supervision required; it cooks in the oven in a covered pot)

Serving size: 6

WHAT Y'ALL ARE GONNA NEED:

• 3 pounds pork shoulder*, cut into golf ball size chunks
• 2 teaspoons Kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon pepper
• 1/2 cup unbleached flour
• 1-2 tablespoons of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
  
• 2 large white onions, diced fine
• 2 red peppers, diced fine
• 2 fresh poblano peppers, diced fine
• 3 jalapeno peppers, diced fine
• 3 serrano peppers, diced fine
• 4 garlic cloves, sliced thin
• 1 pound roasted tomatillos, roughly chopped
• 2 teaspoons cumin
• 2 teaspoons Mexican oregano
• 2 teaspoons coriander
• 3 bay leaves
• 1 cup packaged Verde salsa
• 2 cups no-salt chicken broth
• 2 pounds Russian golden fingerling potatoes
• Toasted flour tortillas
• Sour cream
• Freshly chopped tomatoes

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For the pork - it's very important what kind of cut you get. I go to an amazing butcher in Manhattan -- "L. Simchick" -- they are at 988 First Avenue in NYC (tel: 212-888-2299). Always try to get either the 'shoulder' cut of pork or a 'Boston Butt' cut.

They are both a bit more fatty and break down beautifully in a long roast. They taste like butter when they are cooked for long periods of time. The loin, a much more popular cut, is easier to find but very dry. It's worth the hunt to do this right and get the shoulder cut, or Boston Butt. Trust me.
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HOW Y'ALL ARE GONNA COOK IT UP:

• Preheat your oven to a nice, even 300 degrees. Make sure the oven rack is in the center of the oven. You want slow, even cooking. You are kinda making your own Crockpot in the oven.

• Put your tomatillos in the oven to roast while you prep everything. Line a jelly roll baking sheet with aluminum foil. Remove the paper outside from your tomatillos (which are simply green tomatoes - the ones I buy are already shucked from their paper skins) and cut them lengthwise. Spray the aluminum foil with Pam Organic Olive Oil and then lay the tomatillos, cut side down, on the foil. Give a healthy spray over the tops and salt and pepper. Place in the oven and let roast as you prep the stew. Keep an eye on them. You want them to have a nice brown exterior. A lot of their moisture will leak out as they roast.

• Have your bottle of liquid olive oil nearby. You may need it for the pork.

• Cut up your pork, trimming off any excess fatback and saving a 2-inch piece to the side. Make sure your pieces are healthy looking 'golf-ball' size. Put aside in a bowl.

• In a separate bowl, pour in your flow with 1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Mix it up.

• Cut up your onions and all three varieties of peppers. Put aside in a large, separate bowl. I do not seed my peppers and I don't think you need to for this recipe. I find it to be a pleasant shade of 'hot'.

• Measure out your cumin, oregano and coriander in a small bowl and set aside. Slice up your garlic and put it in the same little bowl with the spices.

• If you have enough measuring cups, I recommend measuring out your canned Salsa Verde and your Chicken Broth. It's easier to enjoy cooking if you have them nearby.

• There is no need to prep the potatoes in advance. You simply can wash them and have them nearby. Most Fingerling Potatoes cook very rapidly and don't need to be diced. I dice the large ones for easier and more enjoyable eating...entirely up to you.

• Now - salt and pepper the pork pieces you cut and then roll in the flour. Shake off any excess but make sure all sides of the pieces are coated.

You work that Pork Verde!

• Heat up a large Dutch oven. Make sure you have a tight fitting lid you can use later in the process.

• Put in 1/2 of the 2 inch piece of fat back from the pork and render it (meaning, melt it until it's liquid). Add enough pork pieces to fill the bottom of the pan but DO NOT CROWD THEM. If you do, they will NOT brown. Better to go slow on the process. This is key to tasty pork.

• Brown the pork on all sides, small batches at a time. Use a bit of your olive oil if it's too dry or if it's too smoky. There is no science to this part. You just gotta get a hankering for it.

• Transfer the batches of browned pork to a large bowl.

• Once the pork is done, if there is no fat in the Dutch oven, pour in 1 tablespoon of olive oil, heat it up for 2 minutes, then add your onions and peppers, with a dash of salt and cook for 5-6 minutes.

• By now you should take your tomatillos out of the oven and let them cook a bit on the stove. When they are cool, you want to cut them up a bit, if they are not too hot too the touch. They will be very moist and mushy. Try to save the juice that comes out of them. I like to take them off of the aluminum foil and cut them on a cutting board with a little side 'alley' that catches the juice, or else you have warm tomato juice all OVER the place.

• After the onions and peppers are nice and tender, add in your garlic and spices and cook for 2 minutes. Then add the roasted and diced tomatillos. Mix all of that up now. You want the veggies coated with those yummy spices.

• Throw in the browned pork, your bay leaves, the salsa and the chicken broth and gently stir until it's all nice and covered. You want to make sure the meat/veggie mixture is covered by at least 1 inch of the chicken broth/packaged salsa Verde liquid.

• Put on the lid and pop in the oven for AT LEAST 60 minutes. 90 minutes is best. Mix every 30 minutes or so.

BE CAREFUL AS THE POT IS HOT.
Andy always forgets and burns himself, silly man!

• After 60-90 minutes, throw in your potatoes, mix it up and then put it back in the oven for 30 minutes.

• You are now at the 2 hour mark. Take it out of the oven (USE OVEN MITTS) and put it on the stove top over medium heat and let it cook for 30 minutes with the top off. You want it at a healthy simmer.

• When the mixture has reduced down and is thick, give it a taste for salt and pepper.

Serve with either toasted pita chips or tortilla's. Add some sour cream and/or fresh red tomatoes on the side and you are set.

Enjoy this amazing meal my little darlings!!!!

xoxo

Mikey Bryan
Your Sex, Food, Love Therapist...

Fantastic CHOPPED SALAD, how we're all Wonder Woman and a deep truth revealed...

For those who love it, cooking is at once child's play and adult joy.

Craig Claiborne

I had an epiphany the other night.

It was while I was cooking a rather elaborate Mexican feast for myself and my husband. The TV was off. No music, no Internet, no nothing. Peace and quiet. I live in a very quiet part of Queens and in a very quiet building, which suits myself and my husband. We like a quiet home.

It was me in the kitchen. Andy was still teaching and I had the night to myself. I could feel a rather vile head cold coming on, but I refused to let it drag me under. I wanted to cook.

Since late November of last year I've had very little interest in this blog or this project. I felt I had been through the ringer.

4 years, countless producers, investors, TV executives and endless reams of writing had produced not one viable bite on this project DESPITE the fact everyone told me it was a good idea DESPITE the fact I was told COUNTLESS TIMES I'm meant to be on TV DESPITE the fact I know tons of people IN cable TV who could have made it happened IF they were a bit nicer or kinder or giving.

It never happened. I got sick in late November. I hardly got out of bed in December. My husband wanted me to take anti-depressants. I said, Fuck that - give me a Broadway show and I'll be fine.

Add onto that the endless discussions I've had with people about the cooking show and non-stop litany of people telling me why cooking at home is a foolish idea.

Here are the top ten reasons people tell me they don't cook at home:

"It's messy. Like you."

"Too expensive. I'd rather save my money for things that matter, like a new round of Botox or a hot hooker."

"So time consuming. Wouldn't you rather be shopping for clothes? Or watching TV? Or anything else besides cooking? Shopping and planning and reading the recipes...please. What kind of a gay man are you anyway?"

"I can't be bothered. All of that chopping and mixing? And carrying groceries? No thank YOU."

"Who has the friggin' time? I sure as hell don't. You try to balance a career, husband and two needy teenagers. I'm a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Put a knife in my hand and violent things are bound to happen."

"Food? Please. I eat pills. I don't eat food."

"I eat to live, not live to eat. There is a difference. Which is why I only eat bagged lettuce and pre-cooked chicken with low-fat dressing and NO CARBS. Ever. Ruin this waistline? Get a grip."

"Lean Cuisine. Mix two of those up, zap them and dinner is on the table in 8 minutes and only 500 calories. Throw it away...no mess, no fuss and you're done."

"It takes patience and skill to learn to cook, neither of which I am interested in."

"I'm too busy. No one cooks at home anymore. Only bored housewives in South Dakota have the time. There is a reason God created take-out. Hello?!"

I have no interest anymore in trying to convince people who don't like to cook why cooking at home is such a fun, enjoyable and loving thing to do.

I'm done.

Let them have the same thing every day, let them eat take-out every night, let them be either too skinny or too fat - I am no longer carrying the flag to increase awareness for those who find endless reasons not to cook.

It feels good to write that!

I realized there was a problem in December when I became resentful of people approaching me and suddenly, without any provocation, talking to me about food.

It happens all the time.

I'll be in the supermarket and women will come up to me and ask me to help them pick produce or how to cook a meal...soon we'll get to talking and I'll have a whole bevvy or cooking broads chatting up food and recipes. It's a gas!

I became angry in December because I was hurt at being dismissed so often about The Food Therapist cooking show. I felt bad it never became a reality so I divorced myself from cooking. I found myself listening and actually agreeing with the people who said those classic I Hate Cooking lines above.

Agreeing.

Yikes.

So a new, much more realistic day is dawning with my cooking. I am a good cook. I gravitate to food, I know how to cook and I am meant to eat. It is a strong part of who I am.

THUS...this blog and all of my food-related stuff will be directed only to those who love to cook. While I respect all of those who uttered and continue to utter those lines above, suffice to say on food and cooking we will never bond unless they come to their sense because I, for one, LIVE for my senses.

For the REST of you lovely home cooks out there...

LET'S COOK!!

Chopped Salads

I've resisted making chopped salads at home for years. I am not a salad fan. My husband loves salads because they are so healthy, but for me, they never, ever taste very GOOD or are very interesting.

I'm not sure if this is big in other parts of the country, but in New York City people are really, really, REALLY into chopped salads. I never understood the thing with chopped salads.

Well! I've certainly changed my mind.

For years now I've made salad by tearing up lettuce, chopping some chicken breast, serving with a healthy dressing and a bit of bread on the side and each time I come away - YUCK.

I watched a recent chef make a chopped salad and realized that he did exactly as the name implies - chopped all of the ingredients to DEATH and then mixed them all together. Now, to be fair, he did have a giant commercial chopping device that looked like this:

You don't need this at home. What this does in a commercial setting is chop the hell out of anything laid in front of it. And I realized that is what lies at the heart of why chopped salads are so good. There is a seamless mix of textures and tastes here that make these very tasty salads.

BUT...and this is a big but (which could result you getting a big 'butt') you still need to watch what you put into these salads. It's very easy to hide fat and calories in this dish. So watch your intake.

I made one the other night and this is what I did.

I got 4 large bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts. If you have an aversion to bone-in, skin-on, get over it. Roasting these breasts results in extremely tender chicken that chops beautifully and tastes great in a salad.

Heat your oven to 450 degrees. Line a jelly-roll pain with heavy duty aluminum foil. Wash and pat dry your breasts. Ha...'it rubs the lotion on it's skin or it gets the hose again!'. Sorry...I digressed.

Rub a tiny bit of olive oil on the breasts and salt and pepper them.

I think now is a great time for a little Martha giggle:



Back to the food...

Bake the breasts until the juices run clear and the skin is lightly browned, 35 to 40 minutes. Take out of oven, let cool. Carefully shred the meat from the skin and bones (checking thoroughly for bones or skin).

You can make this up to 2-3 days in advance of assembling the salad.

Cut the chicken into tiny dice, set aside.

For the lettuce, I like Romaine for a chopped salad, but Boston lettuce is a nice change of pace (a rather meaty lettuce) or Iceberg (which I find reliable but a tad dull).

Chop the the lettuce very fine and put in a large bowl. Lightly salt and pepper.

Put in the chopped chicken and toss.

I like the chop very fine and add the following:

• Bunch of fresh radishes
• 2 bunches of scallion, washed thoroughly; chop green and white portions
• 2 large carrots, skins removed, cut length wise and into small matchsticks
• 1 large red bell pepper
• 1 large yellow pepper
• 1 large hothouse cucumber (seedless), sliced lengthwise and dice small

I also like to add parboiled asparagus or broccoli or hard boiled egg to this...the possibilities are endless!

For cheese, I like to add maximum flavor with minimum calories. For me, I like to add either Authentic Stilton Crumbly Blue Cheese or Aged Parmesan Reggiano cheese. Both require very little but impart a very strong flavor. 1/4 cup of Blue Cheese or 4 tablespoons of the Parmesan Reggiano.

For dressings, I forgo the usual bottled dressings. They are filled with sodium and making your own at home is ridiculously simple. All you need do is mix 1/4 cup olive oil with a teaspoon or two of lemon juice and perhaps a teaspoon of creamy or grainy Dijon mustard and 2 cloves minced garlic. You can also add fresh herbs, such as basil or thyme or sage. Mix up and put on a bowl on the side so guests can pour over at their leisure.

I always serve this with a French baguette. To not do so would be a crime. Stop by any local boulangerie or, if you must, get one at the supermarket.

The trick is to enjoy making the salad and make sure it tastes good to you. As those who cook now, the joy you can have in the kitchen is endless...not matter what the food haters or the world say. Celebrate the Wonder Woman in all of you!

Bon appetit!

I'm Mad As Hell! I'm Not Taking It Anymore!

I've been hearing a word tossed around a lot lately.

"Gaystream."

According to the often insulting but vaguely interesting website Urban Dictionary, this is the definition of the word Gaystream: "...popular culture marketed to queers. Vaguely liberal and often conciliatory to white hetero standards."

There are two words in this sentence which should bother you, gay and straight: "Vaguely" and "Conciliatory." Why?

Because on it's own, conciliatory means, of course, to make concessions. However, when it comes to publishing literature, or making movies or developing TV shows that are created with this dogma in place, what will be done is the work will be 'vaguely' liberal and muddled and perhaps a bit open minded, but in the end, 'conciliatory' to heterosexual standards (read: conservative heterosexual standards of those living in states like Texas and South Dakota) because publishers and executives and those in power want to have their queer cake and eat it to, they want money, gads and gads of money, and in the end, we all know this will result in very sour cake indeed.

We have taken a giant step back in the progression of a society as a whole. Gone is the celebration of individuality, gay or straight, and in it's place is a homogenized sensibility lacking any viewpoint and passive aggressively intent on squashing anything which causes us to feel any sense of unease or challenges us.

We are tired, we are broke, we want to do nothing but sit in our chair and watch TV and be left alone. We want to make our salaries and make our car payments and mortgage payments, and go out to dinner on Friday night and be left alone.

Now is the time where the rally cry of Howard Beale of Network needs to be heard. "I'm not going to leave you alone," he feverishly said into America's television sets in 1976. "I want you to get mad!" he bellowed. "I want you to say, I'm a human being, goddammit! My life has value!"

We need to get mad. We need to feel something more than this complacent ambivalence everyone is so fucking proud of. As a gay man, I feel a certain fury knowing movies, TV and popular 'gay' fiction will not challenge mass culture with showing new ideas and open sexuality, but will, instead, give me the same old package but in a new ribbon.

But the part which is the most offensive is they will tell us this is a NEW way of thinking and this is PROGRESSIVE and we are now seeing other people for who they really are...when we are not seeing them at all.

Queer culture, alternative culture, any culture truly outside of a white heterosexual nuclear conservative family unit will never be fully revealed in mass media and this is 2010. It feels like it's 1955 and it's 2010 and the most disturbing part of this is people think this is what they want and it is the exact opposite of what they need.


Of course, Bush is to blame for having set this agenda in place and hammering it home. Of course, the Conservative agenda is strong and in place. It is taking over parts of the black community and the Spanish communities. God plays a huge role in certain parts of society and God does not like man to bed with man or woman or bed with women and He CERTAINLY does not like transgender to bed with anyone.

I am worried and disturbed more people are not worried and disturbed that we have regressed to a time of invisibility for the true individual. I blame gays for sitting back and not taking any action and they should be ashamed.

I loathe gay men who tell me they are looking for 'straight acting' men to have sex with. Why on EARTH would they want to have sex with a 'straight acting' man? That is a man who is perpetuating the worst parts of being straight! And what IS a 'straight acting' man? Why don't you want to be with a gay man? Leave the straight men to their wives or girlfriends. Why do you chase after what you can't have?

I know countless straight men who would find that term absurd, yet gay men use it constantly to denote their desire to be with the dark man, the real man, the all powerful 'masculine' man who will deliver them from their own disgust with their own homosexuality.

The reason gays are still unaccepted in this society and the reason we will never be accepted in this society and the reason people of all shapes and colors and sizes will say God does not love us or God had decided we are not due the same legal rights as heterosexuals is because gay men (and, to a lesser degree, gay women) don't feel they deserve these basic human rights and feel they have the right to fight for them.

Gay men hate the fact they are gay.

They hate their sexuality and queer spirit.

Being gay is not all I am or all anyone who is gay is, but it's a very large part, just as being straight it.

Until this ends, the hate for us will never, ever end. And as a result, racism will continue to silently grow as it does and no one will ever realize we are all one giant 'thing' and not these separate pockets of futile lives. It will never change.

Of course, most of this thinking is by people over the age of 40. This sort of talk about internal homophobia and sexuality and racism confuses the hell out of younger people. They don't get what it's all about. They may not agree everyone has the same rights as everyone (it's the old God thing, they were raised to think God love selectively) but they wouldn't consider taking action to stop others from living the lives they want to live...not so the case with the Old Guard.

Now go eat a donut with someone who doesn't have the same color skin as you or doesn't sleep with the same gender as you.

It's time we all evolved.

The New Homosexual

Nothing shortens a journey so pleasantly
as an account of misfortunes
at which the hearer is permitted to laugh.
Quentin Crisp

In the summer of 1990, I went to The Angelica movie theater in downtown Manhattan and saw a movie about the personality/author/all around fabulous queer Quentin Crisp. It was called Resident Alien.

The Angelica is a horrid little theater, with tiny spaces crammed full of mostly pretentious Manhattan moviegoers who have nothing but black clothes and snobbery in their closets. Most of the films which play their are alternative and rarely shown outside of the four biggest cities in the country. While I always will applaud alternative independent movie theaters, I don't applaud the fact most of the movies there are depressing, dull and lack any enthusiasm for life.

It was a hot summer and I hated life in NYC. I was working for a banking firm in midtown Manhattan. Most of the men I worked for were married and all were cheating on their wives. They would have me call their mistresses and arrange for car services and plane tickets for their inclandestine meetings.

It was all very sordid and vile.

During the day they fired people left and right and 'invested' the funds from the firings into other companies to make their portfolio of rich clients even richer. All of them wore designer suits, complained if their coffee was cold and never, ever considered for one second how fortunate they were to be making the kind of money they did. The entitled rarely realize the price they are paying to be entitled.

The surprise will come to them on their death bed when they will see, in stark relief, the error of their ways. But by then it will be too late, won't it?

I went to Resident Alien because it was about the life and times of Quentin Crisp. Quentin, for those too young to remember (or those too self involved to care) was a startling breath of fresh, gay air in a city filled with gym-obsessed men who wore dark leather and prowled the late night streets of Manhattan looking for their next dark man to take their minds away from how meaningless their lives were.

Of course, like drugs, it never worked.

The high of instant sex with a 'real man' faded as fast as it had begun and they were left, the next day, with the truth of their lives - a truth Quentin spent his life discussing.

I adored what Quentin was about. I was one of those gay men in his 20's in Manhattan who read all the time, smoked cigarettes constantly and was always on the outside of gay New York looking in. I wasn't obsessed with the gym, I didn't have any interest in cocaine or K or heroine and I wasn't obsessed with finding a masculine man to fulfill my sexual and emotional fantasies. I was effeminate, openly gay and seeing shows with drag queens on most weekends. Despite the ravages of AIDS gay men were, at the time, obsessed with their bodily image. They needed to feel and look 'healthy' to stave off the fact they were aging and dying.

It's even worse today.

Gay men are divided into two camps: the Bears and the Others.

The Bears are the men who are not interested in going to the gym to look like the Perfect Man and are, instead, either rebellious to the point of being fat or ridiculously muscular. The Bears believe in the cliche idea of the masculine male. They are the ones who write on their Internet sex profiles "masculine seeking masculine" or the favorite "no fat, no fems". They intensely dislike and openly loathe sissy men.

Bears only accept feminine men if they are in full dress and on a stage lyp-syncing to a song by the newest one-name dance queen wonder. If you were to ask a gay man who identities as a Bear why he only wants to be with other similar masculine men who dress in leather, show off their various hairy body parts and refuse to wear cologne or deodorant, he will tell you (in a defensive tone) "I dunno. It's just what I want. I'm a man so I'm attracted to other men. Real men".

Or, he may even say, "I'm attracted to men, not faggots".

The Others are the main majority. They are the most visible portion of gay society. They are the twinks, the muscle jocks, the preppies and the other various subcategories I'm not interesting in naming or dissecting. They are obsessed with bodily image. They are shoppers, integrators but not innovators or thinkers.

They are dissatisfied with how fractured gay men are with one another but will never do anything to challenge or change this issue. They are akin to the senseless, floating majority of heterosexual America...they want cultural junk food and don't want to press the envelope.

The Others and The Bears openly dislike gay stereotypes. They dislike gay sexuality which is not expressed in hyper masculine terms. They support effeminate gay men only if they are part of a parody or on a stage in a costume. They don't understand and are disgusted by transgender people. You either have a dick or you don't. There is no in between.

The fluid sexuality of the mass of gay culture and it's effect on creating a more open and receptive gay man which began in the 60's, exploded in the 70's and shrank back in terror in the 80's when the Plague descended has become a tiny blip of a fading star against the black canvas of all gay culture.

Quentin, weather he intended too or not, set out to bring this fading star out of obscurity and bring it to light. It was his insight into the act of being a fully open and aware and receptive GAY MAN with a GAY STYLE and FLUIDITY which attracted me in the late 80's like a gay, fluttering moth to a mother shining ship and why I went to see Resident Alien when it opened in 1990.

Mr. Crisp was to be at the screening. I desperately wanted to meet him. I had bought a flimsy poster of the movie the day before and was hoping he'd humor me and sign it. I carried it with me to the film and afterwards, approached him at a tiny table set out next to the screening.

Mr. Crisp wore a striking blue velvet blazer with a bright red scarf about his neck. He had on blush and a thin line of pink lipstick. Blue eyeshadow graced his eyelids and his hands were covered in various rings of deep green and purple. His infamous grey hair was swept up into a giant cone on his head and was streaked on one side with purple dye.

I was in love.

He smiled at me as I came up to him. I had worn my favorite crushed red jacket and tight black pants. I had my green sneakers on and had applied a thin line of mascara to my eyes. I handed him the movie poster. He took it and looked it over.

This is what it was:

"I look hideous", he said to me as he raised a black marker in his hand. I smiled at him and touched his hand as I said, "Not to me you don't."

He shook his head but didn't move his hand away from mine. "I'm constantly amazed by people, I truly am."

With his free hand he signed the poster To a clearly divine and inspired man, Quentin Crisp.

He rolled up the poster and handed it to me. I thanked him and held his eyes as I left. He stared at me as I walked away and in his eyes I saw such life and beauty it took my breath away. I will never forget that moment.

My friend Kim Jackson has asked me to write a show which I am to perform at The Duplex on Christopher Street in the West Village section of Manhattan. I'm not sure what Kim will get out of this since it will be so gay in content. I think she's doing this because she loves me and is desperately hoping this will shine some light on my withered creative life. I am a tad concerned for our friendship in the collaboration, so I must be frank with her on my concerns.

The Duplex is a hop, skip and a jump from the infamous Stonewall Tavern where many believe the gay movement in America truly began. It's not where it began, but it is where the gay movement became visible to people who lived in South Dakota and Florida.

I have agreed to do the show. I am going to draw on the inspiration of Quentin Crisp. Of Harvey Fierstein and his early plays. I am going to press my hand to my heart and my ear to the ground and listen to the words of Larry Kramer. I am going to ask for those gay men of the past to inspire me to write a show about the truth of my life as a gay man who has spent over half of his life living on the fringes of gay life and has watched his brethren fall apart and fractured.

The gay heart of our day is gone. It needs to be revived and I, for one, am going to create a show with this in mind.

As a small boy, I dreamed of living in New York City and creating theater that would be about being a gay man in the dirtiest and most amazing city on the planet. I have to live out that dream.

The cooking show was an excuse to perform and I see that now. I love to cook, don't get me wrong, but the thing I'm truly meant to do is perform. And since for now TV does not want me and the writing world doesn't know I exist, I shall perform in the theater. Lords knows this will a labor of love. But I know not what else to do, so here we go.

Maybe this time the Gods will shine down on me.

For all those fighting for their place in this life...never, ever give up...

Hot-Ass KY Jelly, Mexican Food Sex, Lovin' You and only You...

The shit I've had to deal with trying to get this idea off of the ground is unreal.

I've realized something -- cooking shows are DULL.

So I'm mixing it up.

It's true what Tina Howe, the great American playwright once told me -- she said you have to look people in the eye and see if you can really trust them before you work with them.

I've had two producers over 5 years for one aborted TV show idea. And I thought selling screenplays was hard!

Endless emails. Years in editing rooms working on two promos which fell short. The world needs my talent!

The first promo had energy but was sloppy, stilted and weird. The second promo made by former Fucker Producer was sweet but boring as hell. It was like pulling teeth to get it made.

Now I am (hopefully) working with a new director and a new crew and writing a new script for the show - the working title is "Sex, Food, Love".

I feel like a spastic salmon determined to swim upstream when all of the other fish around me are yelling, "Give it up, Sally Salmon. It ain't gonna happen!".

The part that kills me is I talk to successful people and talented people and I can tell I'm smarter and more insightful than them. Sure, most of their work is vapid and of little significance, but still - they are getting shit made.

The show is now a variety style show. It's about the relationship between Sex, Food and Love.

Speaking of SEX...I got the most interesting email from US Magazine (and what a shining example of journalist it is).

It was for a new product.


Intensive K-Y. INTENSIVE K-Y.

From the website. Oh my:

"K-Y® Brand INTENSE™ is formulated with a proprietary combination of niacin and sensory ingredients. Massaging K-Y® INTENSE™ directly onto the clitoris, as directed, stimulates sensitivity and creates a gentle warming sensation increasing female pleasure during intimacy."

So essentially, it's Ben Gay for your clit. Okay...

And then there is this:

"Have you (or your partner) gently massage a drop (2-4 pumps) of K-Y® Brand INTENSE™ onto your clitoris."

Okay, that turns me on.

But here are the tastiest bits:

"The #1 doctor-recommended K-Y® Brand has more than 80 years of experience speaking with consumers around the world to better understand their needs and desires."

I can see the booth now at the local Piggy Wiggly. "Free Clit Stimulus Testing with purchase of two boxes of Low-Fat Trisket Crackers!"

"A recent K-Y® Brand study of unmet consumer desires with regard to intimacy identified a need and an opportunity to create a high-quality product targeted specifically toward female satisfaction."

No comment.

"The K-Y® Brand's market research team understood the link between a woman's physical pleasure from intimacy and her overall intimate satisfaction. This insight led K-Y® scientists to explore ways to increase clitoral sensitivity."

The research team...hm...I wonder how many of them were women? And how many identified as gay or bisexual?

And did they include shrinks in this study? Because all of the bullshit aside, we all know the reason women are not satisfied in bed is because their husbands or lovers are emotionally in la-la land during the act.

I'd love to see KY gear their brand to the gay market. Do they have ANY idea how POPULAR they'd be?

The science and market research teams needed a method to increase sensitivity in a way that both made the feeling last and resulted in a good consumer experience."

Good consumer experience - gosh, do I go for five drops of K-Y on my clit or the new Bisol?!

"To test their formulations, K-Y® researchers utilized Doppler imaging technology to measure the effect their prototype had on human skin. The result, as hoped for, was localized and lasting. Subsequent testing with couples confirmed that the K-Y® team had developed the consumer delighting experience they had been striving for."

We know why consumers found it a 'delighting experience'. It took the responsibility of off the women's partner to fulfill his/her/their emotional obligation to bring the woman to climax. Don't get me wrong, but I'm all for sex toys to ENHANCE sex and the resulting deeper emotional bond between partners, but not as a way to REPLACE emotional connection.

Sex is great for sex's sake. I'm a guy. I get it. Guys are all about doing it and going to sleep.

Women are wired differently. They like more emotion with their sex. Funny, huh?

Us gay guys are in the middle of that - we like a lot more emotion than our heterosexual buds but not as much as many women.

But there are tremendous gray areas here.

Gay guys are going through a huge shift right now. Gays hate gays for being gay, hence, the whole hype-masculinity crap. It's called 'internalized homophobia'. I used to laugh when my Ph.D. social work husband said that about gays, BUT HE'S RIGHT.

Straight guys feel much more than they let on, but they don't show it because it's not socially acceptable and they are taught, from an early age, to be stoic and withheld -- women don't help this much either by always saying 'oh, you know Charlie, still waters run deep', thus wanting their cake and eating it too by justifying that Charlie won't say how he feels, but loving the fact Charlie is such a 'man'. They want him sensitive when they want him sensitive and a Cowboy to make them feel save and protected -- can you say Daddy Complex?

Gay guys feel a lot more than they let on. But they don't show it. Why? Because gays are uncomfortable being gay.

Lesbians - sorry, but you got me there.

Straight women are, to me, the most highly evolved of the different categories. They do show how they feel and they are often right. They have an awareness most men simply will not fathom.

'nuff said. Let's cook up some Mexican, shall we?

I made this one up last night. As always, it was brilliant. I should change my name of Michael Rodriguez, I swear.

SPICY CHICKEN, POTATO AND POBLANO ENCHILADAS with HOMEMADE LOW-FAT SPICY TOMATO AND POBLANO CREAM SAUCE

This one rocked my world. I made it rather spicy, so if you are a wimp with hot Mexican food cut down a few peppers. Or man up and eat it with sour cream. Just kidding (on the man up part; not on the sour cream).

Here is what you'll need:

Enchiladas:

• 3 skinless, boneless chicken breasts, diced into cubes
• 4 medium sized Yukon gold potatoes, partially boiled and diced into cubes
• 5 tablespoon medium-hot chili powder (NOT made with cocoa...read the label...cocoa is not good in Mexican and I don't care what anyone says)
• 3 large white onions, chopped
• 8 cloves garlic, chopped/sliced fine
• 2 fresh jalapenos, chopped with seeds
• 4 dried arbol chili's, soaked in hot water for 15 minutes and chopped fine
• 2 teaspoons Mexican oregano
• 5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup Manchego cheese, shredded

• 6 medium-sized tortillas

Poblano sauce:

• 2 large fresh Poblano chilies, chopped medium
• 3 large fresh ripe tomatoes, chopped medium
• 1 large white onion, chopped medium
• 2 jalapenos, chopped medium seeds and all
• 3 cloves of garlic, chopped medium
• 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar

Sour cream for serving on the side

Here is what you do...

Arbol chilies are tiny red chili's normally sold in the ethnic section of the supermarket. You normally get a big ass bag for, like, $2 dollars. All you do is soak the dry chilies in boiling hot water for 15 minutes and chop them up and put them in the meal. Very simple. BUT...these are hot, so be careful with them.

Put the chilies in a bowl, cover with water and soak as you prepare the rest of the meal.

Put on a pot of water on the stove that can easily accommodate the lovely 4 Yukon Gold potatoes. Heat up the water until boiling and then throw in the potatoes, unpeeled.

As the potatoes cook, cut up the chicken. Pour a few glugs of olive oil in a 12 inch non-stick pan and heat up for a minute or so. Throw the chicken and 2 tablespoons chili powder along with some salt and pepper in the pan. Cook until chicken is just done, about 8 minutes. Transfer to a plate.

The potatoes are still probably cooking, so make up the spicy base. Heat up another tablespoon of olive oil in the clean skillet. Add 2 chopped onions, 6 cloves of garlic and the jalapenos as well as 2 tablespoon chili powder. Cook for about 6 minutes. Add the chopped arbol chilies, cook 4 minutes and then set aside.

Do not wipe out the pan UNLESS it's a tad burnt. Otherwise, leave all the good tasting spices in there for the potatoes.

The potatoes are probably done now. Poke them with a fork. If they offer a bit of resistance but are still a bit firm, that is what you want. You are going to cook them a bit more. Take them out of the water, and slice them into quarter-sized slices.

Heat up the last of the oil. Throw in the potatoes and the last chopped onion as well as the last of the chili powder and salt and pepper. Cook about ten minutes on medium heat, or until the potatoes are cooked but have a tiny bit of resistance to them.

Put them aside.

Heat up your oven to 375 degrees.

Get out a casserole dish big enough to hold 6 large enchiladas. Spray with Pam (olive oil).

Wipe out the skillet you've been using and heat up over medium heat for a minute or two. Add in all of the Poblano sauce ingredients and cook for 10 minutes. Transfer to a blender and blend until mixed and thick, about a minute on medium setting. Taste and adjust with salt and pepper.

Set up a little Enchilada Station.

You should have four bowls: Chicken, Potatoes, Onion Mixture, Poblano Sauce.

Lay a tortilla in the casserole dish and sprinkle a bit of each Onion Mixture then Chicken then Potatoes and top with 2 tablespoon of the sauce and roll up so the are tight.

Once all six are rolled, pour a thick line of Poblano sauce down the middle of the Enchiladas and then sprinkle with the cheese. Bake for 25 minutes (or until a bit crispy) and here you go:


Kick ass food and kick ass advice...

Now...let's party!!!!

Sex...Food...and Rock and Roll...

Let go of my producer a week ago.

Met a new producer Friday. And another producer today. And another producer tomorrow.

Talking with Logo, A&E, Food Network, MTV, PBS (they won't like me; too R-rated), Bravo.

Downing lots of wine at night before bed.

Meeting a show director tonight. Same guy from last week; we'll see what he's made of. Meeting another director tomorrow; another after National Turkey Day.

Obsessed to find out if there is anything on record, ever, of Martha Stewart talking about The Anus or Anal Beads. Must be in show.

Drinking lots of wine at night before bed.

Happy the show is becoming a variety show about food and love and living and sex and relationships and music, music, music.

Am I to only do a gay promo? A straight-friendly promo?

Working on getting a star to be in the promo. A big star. Sex may be involved. Forgive me, Andy.

Sick and tired of waiting for everyone to get their shit together and just shooting a new promo myself.

Wishing (with my dead mother's cross in hand) I'll get a break. A big break with this. Or else...

NEW POSSIBLE TITLES:

Food, Sex and Rock and Roll

OR

Sex, Food and Rock and Roll

OR

Shopping, Fucking, Rock and Roll and Food...

OR

Food and Sex and Love and Rock and Roll...

Tone of show is irony, satire, indirect sarcasm...

DEFINITION: Irony, sarcasm, satire indicate mockery of something or someone. One thing is said and its opposite implied, as in the comment, “Beautiful weather, isn't it?” made when it is raining or nasty.

Irony differs from sarcasm in greater subtlety and wit. In sarcasm ridicule or mockery is used harshly, often crudely and contemptuously, for destructive purposes. It may be used in an indirect manner, and have the form of irony, as in “What a fine musician you turned out to be!” or it may be used in the form of a direct statement, “You couldn't play one piece correctly if you had two assistants.”

The distinctive quality of sarcasm is present in the spoken word and manifested chiefly by vocal inflection, whereas satire and irony, arising originally as literary and rhetorical forms, are exhibited in the organization or structuring of either language or literary material. Satire usually implies the use of irony or sarcasm for censorious or critical purposes and is often directed at public figures or institutions, conventional behavior, political situations, etc.

Soon, all will be revealed...soon...

Mikey Bryan
Your 'New' Food and Sex and Love and Rock and Roll Therapist...