Lady Sings The Truth - movie review

Sidney J. Furie's adaptation of Billie Holiday's memoir Lady Sings The Blues is, to use the kindest
word, a mediocre film. When it is not mediocre, it verges on the idiotic. But when Diana Ross, who plays Miss Holiday ( and does her own singing), is performing in character, LSTB is suddenly transformed into a better-than-respectable work of art. Diana Ross looks as much like Billie Holiday as I look like Morrissey. As a Motown artist, she was always my least favorite. But she has the wit to sing in the manner of Billie Holiday rather than do an impression of Lady Day's singing. If that was all they wanted, they should have cast David Sedaris. ( He does a really swell Lady impression on the audio version of, you guessed it, Holidays on Ice.)
When LSTB - book and film were newly released, there was a resounding chorus of "hey, that's not how I remember it" from friends, admirers, critics and ass scratchers. Holiday's Daily News
pal William Dufty cut, pasted and "collaged" material from decades of interviews, thus generating her best selling autobiography. For the researcher, the book is about as useful as Tennessee Williams' Memoirs, another popular work of fictional nonfiction. Regarding veracity,the movie is
even worse. I love to see Richard Pryor in almost any movie context but why was it necessary to
create Piano Man when Holiday had many accompanists in her all-too-short career. Why couldn't he have played Lester Young, the brilliant sax player who was also lady's closest friend?
Well, we sighed when we heard Diana Ross was being cast as Billie Holiday. Although Furie's movie requires tolerance and generosity ( and maybe half a joint) from its viewer, it's worth seeing for Diana Ross's musical performances and, to a lesser degree, her movie acting. After doing a couple hours of compare / contrast Ross vs. Holiday, Holiday wins. But I have to say Miss Diana Ross could have been a more than adequate jazz singer. Honest.

a personal note - SPOILER ALERT!

Rainer Werner Fassbinder made forty films - or more, depending on whose list you're citing - in a seventeen year period. I recently watched Fox and his Friends, an indictment of the German gay bourgeoisie. It's not as compelling as the epic Year of 13 Moons, but it comes close. I was surprised
to see Karl Boehm, ( Peeping Tom ,1960, Michael Powell) in the role of a posh antique dealer and possible smuggler. Fox wins 500,ooo marks on the national lottery. In 1975, this was enough money to buy an apartment, save a financially strapped business and enjoy the usual lifestyle crap. Fox's woes begin when he signs over the flat to his false lover so that it can be used as
collateral. We see him lying dead of a valium overdose in the Berlin subway. Peeping Tom and Fox's
old lover examine the body and leave. There's nothing they can do now.

as long as he lies perfectly still

In the spring I think of sex and means to end
summertime I like to sit upon the grass
autumn nights I go to parties with my friends
winter time I like to think about the past.
- The Soft Machine ( Volume 2)


- In summer 1979, the year Skylab fell, the queers of Rehoboth Beach speculated exactly where Skylab, as if it would survive its fall intact, would impact.
" It's headed straight for the Pentagon, honey."
" Oh, little Miss Amerika, when will you get your act together, girl?"
" The back yard of Paradise, on a Saturday afternoon, when they're all swigging vodka tonics and wrapping cucumbers in wet briefs."
" Right on Carter's goddamn head."
" Off the pier in Key West at the height of sunset, just as Henry's called a cop 'girlfriend' for the last time."
" Baby, this is some crazy grass. Hmm. It's gonna fall on that club in New York where Warhol and True Man Capott and them hang out. BLAM BABY BLAM! There goes some sorry ass excuses for ... well, hello sailor ..."
" Right on top of your roller skates, Herbert."

If I had an opinion, time and alcohol have worn it away. Memory's wall gets thinner.

A Night on the Town ( concluded)

Entering the Fantasy Room involved passing through something that resembled the transporter
deck from Star Trek. A rush, a push and you stood in a dark smelly bar whose main light source
was a jukebox. Some unkempt pool tables made it practically impossible to navigate the room without rubbing against someone " whether ya fuckinwannernut."
Todd's Grand and other refreshments were agreeing with him splendidly until the Chrysler Gallery intern he'd fucked a month ago walked by and cut him dead. In his own special form of retaliation, Todd had a confederate at the bar pour him a neat triple that he tossed off like a rent boy. Evan noticed this as he usually noticed Todd's pathetic attempts at subterfuge but decided to wait it out. At this rate, he and Marcus would have to carry him into the house after last call. He
might do his dog imitation and crawl up the front steps on all fours.
It was all very George and Martha.

"Havig fun?" slurred Todd.
"Yeah sure. Is there something about tie dye that gets y'all hot, like the matador dude's cape?"
"Naw it's, um, just that, you being a stranger to this scene and young and ginger and all, um, makes you exciting new meat." Marcus had turned down fifteen propositions in the last two and a half hours. Todd leaned against the wall, about to slide to the floor.
He slid to the floor. The bartender whistled loudly.

"Where we goin' now?"
"We're going home, Todd."
" I want a nice greasy breakfast."
"Maybe Marcus will whip something up for you."
" I'd like that. Can I have you for brekkers, Marco?"
" Aw man, shut the fuck up."
Todd fell asleep, awakened by the transcabbie.
"Time to wake up, honey."
" Ummuh, yeah, 'mkay."
Marcus and Evan steered him to the front door steps. He looked around like he couldn't believe his luck. Evan knew what usually the this-is-all-mine? look .
"Marco? Ev?"
They nodded.
" I love you guys. I don't deserve your friendship ..."
" Come on Marcus, let's carry him in while he's on this crying jag ..."
" Okay .."
" On three. One two three."
They carried their burden into the house like pallbearers in a hurry.

A Night on the Town

Marcus can't believe how long Todd and Evan spend in the bathroom, getting ready to go stand around in some dark smelly bar for six hours, only to go home disappointed or whoop it up with friends in a greasy spam and eggs joint. He's spent fifteen minutes with a bar of Tom's soap and felt like a new man who smelled slightly of mint. After being offered a succession of gay garments, he donned his tie dyed outfit. No one else at Club FracAss would be dressed like him.

When the boys finally descended the front stairs, they were as casually dressed as they'd been for yesterday's little afternoon party. True, the stench of cologne could paralyze an attacker at twenty feet but that's the desired effect. Evan's perfect blond hair stood up in unbreakable spikes. You could impale answered correspondence on those spikes. Although he was nearly thirty, Todd still believed that the hair-in-the-eyes moppet look worked for him. Actually, after a few lines and some pernod, it rarely failed.
They both knew rough Marcus would be a cynosure, especially sans underwear.

"How about a little drinkie for the road?"
"Who's driving?"
"I don't know. Some person from Transtaxi."
"Goody, that means I can have a Grand Marnier."
"Just watch yourself, Todd. I'll get you cut off if you start in with the ..."
" Okay. Okay. Okay. I only want a gigantic line of coke and some Grand."
"Marcus, what's your pleasure?"
" You don't have any paper, huh?"
" Usually, no." Evan reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny vial. He unscrewed it and knocked an almost invisible yellow barrel into Marcus' hand. " He said it was clean as a whistle and good for eight hours .... and you only need one."
" Thanks, man. We'll see about the dosage."
A burst of loud dance music in the street. "Your carriage awaits" announced a voice over a bad p.a. system.
" We'll have to do it in the cab. Todd, get the security module, let's go!"

When Freddie Argo was a farmer's son in Suffolk, Va. he never had the slightest longing to deck
himself in Frederick's of Hollywood and prance in front of the mirror. Sure, he was a typical queer farm boy who'd inherit his dad's acreage, find a likeminded companion and live a gentleman farmer's existence, far from the shrieking parrots of Homo Heights.
Freddie had no business sense and lost almost everything except the family manse. He sold it for a ridiculously high price, moved into town and took work as a dispatcher for Transtaxi. Freddie was a slip of a boy who could wear women's clothing convincingly. The talent spotter at Trans made him an offer - wig or welfare. He took the wig.
" I don't think I've ever met a tran who could discuss pork futures", Evan remarked after they'd arrived in darkest downtown.

FracAss was a huge building with poorly lit entrances. Once inside, you were briefly doubled over by the bass in the dance music and unnerved by the near illegal bpm. A boy wearing a frilly apron
emerged from the crowd.
"Hi, I'm Eric. Do you want a table or banquette?"
"Do we look like a table?"
"Banquette. I always know. Please follow me." His apron did a poor or excellent job of barely concealing his heartshaped thong - bisected ass. He seated them and took an elaborate drink order.
"I hate this fucking place", Todd said, staring at a passing basketball player, or someone in a basketball uniform, it didn't matter. " I only come here for the Fantasy Room."
" It's like an acid trip for scaredy cats, Marcus. They recreated one of the putrid old downtown sailor bars, complete with real sailors working off the books as, er, taxi dancers. You can play pool and have a conversation without screaming."

to be continued

THE SEX SCENE Part 2

for ns and all the real sex scene writers

TODD i've got him i've Got Him! in my mind i'm jumping up and down like a little boy who's burst the pinata, smiling while its garish guts flutter down. he leans back pouts as i roll his cock between my slicked-up palms, squirting drops of juice between my fingers. His shaggy balls jumped. I must get down to business

marcus aw fuck how am i going to explain this? the other times i was so fucked up dude or i just deny it completely or once or twice i needed the money how many times before you become quear?

it feels good of course i mean the faggots are right, a guy knows best how a guy wants his thing sucked and ow migod

TODD I want him to sodomize me, fuck me, whatever. i have a blackmarket vial of oxymyl inhalant, that ER drug that was banned the same week it hit the streets.
Wriggle my ass closer, rub against his hard bony hip and scrawny thighs. The upper part of marcus is porn quality definition for the shaved twinko muscular type, smooth naturally smooth chest, a dusting of belly hair, a twisting trail that covers a scar...
he's on his back looking up at me and i offer him the sniffer he takes it i descend my ass all slicked up OH he slides up into me like an alien probe but warm and pulsing
it can't be but i swear my ass feels the vein in his dick throbbing his eyes are closed i do all the work he clenches his fists and then grabs my legs he comes

marcus sleep i need sleep

The Deadhead - SEX SCENE part one

SEX SCENE

Marcus opens his eyes and winces. We learn that he's in bed with Todd, who's still asleep. A look at the clock - 412 am.
/was i that wasted?/

Todd's bedroom, four hours ago. T and Marcus are sitting on the edge of the bed doing long sloppy
lines. The boys take turns furtively peeping at each other.
- well Marcus what do you say?
- yeah uh sure ummKAY wow todd hold up a second.
The clang of that ridiculous hippie belt as Marcus' jeans hit the floor and get kicked out of the way.
In the intervals of Todd's ministrations, Marcus wonders how he can breathe with such a large object in his throat.
- whew Marcus i need some air. Yeah, smile for your humble servant and official cocksucker.
- official huh
- yeah i know this subdom ...
- sub - dum??
- submit or dominate
- m and s okay
- the bottom boy is slave to the top at least that's the facade he has to submit to
- aw man shut up and suck my goddamn COCK NOW..
- yeah you get the idea
- no i fuckin mean it
Marcus grabs a handful of Todd's hair and pulls him back into oral sex posture. They are both naked now that Todd's wriggled out of the ridiculous striped underwear he wore for the occasion.
He picks up where he left off, feeling happier than usual.