What's he on about now?

In case the articles, essays and opinions throughtout this site just weren't enough for you, here's my online diary (a.k.a. 'blog'). It's as close as you'll come to the inside of my head, so don't say I didn't warn you
(and remember, you can always e-mail me if you love or loathe anything you're about to read)...


   Wednesday, November 14, 2007

   IS IT ANY WONDER?

I thought my 15 minutes were up after my slew of media appearances (okay, three) concerning Harry Potter's gay wizard but hooray for Jiri Tlusty, the horny hockey player. Some gossip blog got a hold of nude photos the 19-year-old Maple Leaf had sent to a girl on the Internet and the ever-classy Toronto Sun gleefully made a spectacle of them today.

The news station AM 640 called up fab for a comment but editor Paul hates doing these things and suggested that host John Downs talk to me, "the resident pontificator." Ouch! Truth hurts. Soon, the AM640 website read:

Wednesday, November 14 2007
Scott Dagostino - FAB Magazine Managing Editor
Leafs winger Jiri Tlusty is the center of a whirlwind of controversy after being spotted online both nude, and mock-making out with a boy [though not at the same time]. John detects an undercurrent of homophobia running through the coverage of the story, and who better than Scott to comment on that?

Who indeed. Sweet of them to write that.
But my latest radio stint was difficult because the host and I were in total agreement. As with the "gay Dumbledore" saga, there's little to this story and we both thought the media's treatment of Tlusty today was ridiculous at best, cruel at worst. Chumminess doesn't make for gripping radio debate and I find that, when I'm out of my element like this (I prefer asking the questions), I basically fall into two modes: earnest or wisecracking. At my best, I do both but today I didn't get as many quips in as I would have liked. I was just too annoyed that this kid was forced to apologize. As the host said, 'apologize for what?' He has every right to kiss any buddy he wants, send any photo to any girl he wants.

His only crime, I said (if you can even call it that) is indiscretion. Tlusty didn't understand that, as an NHL hockey player, he's now a celebrity. He's now, like Bowie said, there where things are hollow. How could a 19-year-old from the Czech Republic understand North America's deep sexual hypocrisy, its double standard of both hyping and condemning sex, and its bizarre demand that anyone famous should be a role model to children? The poor guy was just partying and trying to get laid like any other 19-year-old.

As for the "gay" angle, bitch please! Trying to out this guy is the silliest thing I've seen in a while. I've made out with women -- that doesn't make me straight. I maintained on air, as I have in the past, that the gay rights movement has never been just for gay people. Sure, we want to be free to live our lives as we want without being attacked for it, but it's also about freeing straight guys from the homophobia that shackles them too. Two friends can't be physically affectionate with each other or (god forbid) say anything with real feeling for fear of seeming gay. It's a trap that European guys like Tlusty have mostly avoided. Hell, have you ever seen Czech Republic porn? These guys have cheerful sex with other beautiful guys, then take the money home to their girlfriends. Tlusty's drunken tongue play with his buddy is as hetero as it gets over there.

Thanks to the moral guardians of the Sun, Tlusty now says, "I have learned a valuable lesson." He did learn a lesson, but not one with any value in it.

Labels: fab, insanity, media, sports, Trawna

Tschye -- "Boyz Gone Wild."

-- Reply posted by  Whisky Prajer at November 15, 2007

 

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I`ve been strolling the streets of Montreal, new and Old, this morning and it`s felt like slipping on an old favourite pair of shoes. Last time I was here was twice in 2000 -- a free weekend jaunt in November, courtesy of my friend Gord`s frequent flier miles (Tintin isn`t his favourite character for nothing) and just before that in the summer, when Bryce and I came here for Pride right before we broke up.

It was strange to walk through Old Montreal with hazy memories of that happier yet sadder time. I felt very wistful, especially since I was by myself. It was around noon and the rest of my gang had either eaten already or were still sleeping. Wild weekends like these play havoc with everyone`s schedules and I`ve already been told off for my lack of a mobile phone. This trip has been the first time in my life when I wished I`d had one.

Yesterday was a day of crazy culture shock, one extreme to another.
We woke up in a forest.
We biked down twisty forest paths and along the mighty St. Lawrence River.
We ate lunch in the bleachers of a park baseball diamond.
We arrived with great fanfare as we biked down the streets of downtown Montreal.
We danced and drunk beer at a drag bar as Montreal Pride revved into gear.
We met up with friends and stayed out as late as our exhausted bodies would let us.
It was a long, wild day.

The only downside was arriving at the UQAM residence that's hosting us. Imagine rooms like the driest of musty libraries, made hot enough to do bikram yoga in. The ceiling fans spin uselessly and there's no breeze through the window. The girl in the room next to me slept with her door propped wide open with a chair all night, the florescent light burning into her room. I wasn't prepared to try that but a rocky night of lying on top of the blankets in a puddle of my own sweat might make me a convert tonight! I'm not sure I'll survive another night of that.

But who knows? Maybe I won't have to go back. I've got friends from Toronto in town (I'm running off to meet Robert, for one, right now) and there's a club crawl planned as a stag party for Rob and Greg, getting married in three weeks. Can I muster the energy for all this? How could I not?

Labels: Canada, friends, health, holidays, introspective, sports, travel

Or is it the Queen's University campus library? I can't tell -- it all looks the same.

It's Day 3 of the Bike Rally and clearly the best one yet. We only did 52km this morning, a light day after the last two fairly grueling ones. After breakfast, the whole lot of us careened down a twisty road along the lake, with some utterly gorgeous scenery, and I'm pleased to say that I arrived at the Queen's campus in Kingston before 11am, just shy of two hours.

I've been thrilled with my progress on this thing. The first day was 117km and very hilly, especially right at the end when I had so little energy left. We arrived at the campground exhausted and setting up the tent became the most tiring part of the day! I'm concerned about my left knee -- it's been really hurting, a kind of dull arthritic ache. On Day 2, I eased up on my speed a bit and it seemed to help. I keep asking myself which it's going to be, boy: going faster or walking with a cane for the rest of my life? Then I go faster.

But there's great support here. A chiropractor named Michelle looked over my knee last night and says I'm merely straining the inner ligament on the inside of the kneecap. I should ice it in the evening and ease up on the speed on the hills. And tomorrow I plan to have a massage. It's weird to work so hard yet feel so pampered. They've been feeding us well -- the food is amazing considering that it's being mass-produced for over 300 people and the prep volunteers are working harder than the bike riders. It's like a massive film set, so much coordination.

Camping has been tricky. I am so not used to sleeping outside. Even with the gift of James A's spacious tent and firm air mattress, sleep has been rocky. Now that we've a bed for a night here at the university, I just had an afternoon nap and it's helped enormously! Also, the bugs. Taking down the tent this morning, it was covered in spiders. Daddy long legs, stuff like that. These days are doing wonders for my arachnophobia; now I just scoop them up with my hand and toss them to one side.

I do like the comraderie of the campground though: there are so many tents, it looks like a small frontier town, as if early Canada was settled by gays. "We claim this land for England...snap!" One guy said it looked like a refugee camp. I then called it the Gayza Strip and was roundly, rightfully booed. There's been some attempts at nighttime activities, like games of Twister and Bingo, but it seems that most of us are too tired by that point to take part.

At least at first. Some people get their second wind later at night and there was a little impromptu beach party last night 'round midnight. I'm feeling a bit sad about it, since last week's grueling two-day trip to Cannington left my body exhausted and my lips sunburned. The bottom one blistered and, while I'm healing up nice and quick, my scabby lip makes me feel like the Phantom of the Campground. All these lovely new people I'm meeting and I'm at my least attractive. Grrr. Oh well, looks like I'm saving it up for Montreal!

And I didn't bike hundreds of miles and plead for thousands of dollars so I could get laid in the woods (that would've been simply a perk) -- no, I did this for the cause and the biking. Yesterday was the longest day, 126km, and while I'd never try to pretend it was effortless (oh lord, it wasn't), I was thrilled with how steadily I clipped along. I'm not as fast as the 'Bike Nazis' but nowhere near slow either. I found a lovely fellow redhead named Brad who bikes at my Goldilocks pace so he and I and another couple of friends formed a little pack yesterday. We rode and talked all afternoon as the countryside whizzed by us. That was a much better day.

But now I've got to run -- we're going for dinner at Chez Piggy, which I'm told is wonderful and hey, it's my birthday! Being in Kingston far from my friends is not exactly how I'd prefer to spend it but we seem set to have some parties in the dorms tonight and I've been flooded with wonderful birthday greetings from friends using Facebook. Thanks to everyone! I haven't felt this alive in quite some time but I'm already missing my loved ones and yes, even that nutty little dog. More chatter to come on Friday, I imagine -- till then, Chez Piggy's got a margarita with my name on it...

Labels: friends, health, holidays, introspective, sports, travel

I finally put my profile on John Amaechi to bed yesterday, by the way. I'm disappointed to see that the Advocate beat me to him by a week but Amaechi's PR person told me that they'd set up a deal with ESPN in advance. I'll have to settle for landing the first Canadian gay Toronto bi-weekly newsprint magazine interview.

I spent half an hour on the phone with him last Thursday and he was every bit as kind, intelligent and elegant as he'd come across in his book. And it's been really delightful to see the sports world support him, especially after Tim "I hate gay people" Hardaway sprayed venom everywhere.

Now we'll just have to see if a pro sports player can come out during his career. It's like that morbid joke that floated around the premiere of Philadelphia and Tom Hanks' Oscar win: everyone cries for the dying AIDS patient, but it's the ones who live they can't stand.

Which makes for an unplanned-yet-effortless segue into mentioning the piece I did in the current issue on a new plastic surgery treatment for people with HIV-related facial wasting. The foundation director I interviewed read it and said she was thrilled with how "kind and complimentary" the piece was. I was pleased but surprised, since I thought the tone was just matter-of-fact. I guess I'm just a big softy!

Labels: Canada, fab, health, homo-a-go-go, sports, Trawna, writing

Germany's Christian Hein won the silver medal in Mens' 5km at the 28th European Swimming Championships in Budapest yesterday. Do I follow European Swimming Championships? No, but I'll follow Christian Hein! I saw this photo over at Towleroad and somehow, I just felt like cheering too!

Labels: homo-a-go-go, sports