Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Your Candle Burned Out Long Before Your Legend Never Did…

One of my favorite films of all time, Portrait of Jason, is now available on DVD, though I believe it is published in the UK and therefore will not play on my American DVD player. I have the video, but the DVD includes extras that I really, really want. The most important of those extras, to me at least, is the obituary of Jason Holliday himself, born Aaron Paine, who died in 1998. I know it sounds stupid when people say things like this, but Portrait of Jason really did change my life. At least momentarily.

I had thought that maybe someday I would find Jason—of whom I was repeatedly told “nobody knows whatever happened to him.” I wanted to find him, in his old age, recluse, hug him, tell him that I know as best as someone could possibly know what it means to be him, to be on The Butch Stroll. But he was dead before I even knew of him. All I have is his own autobiography which was included in the 1967 NY Film Festival press materials. Rest In Peace, Jason Holliday.

Last night it's like 3:00 in the morning and I can't sleep,

so I start watching this documentary on the National Geographic Channel about Osama bin Laden. About half-way through, the narrator uses the expression "begs the question" incorrectly, which drives me crazy.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Crazy Wierdo Pedophile Cleared in Jonbenet Murder

Initial speculation was apparantly correct: he didn't do it.

The Eagle Theater, Jackson Heights, Queens

Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
Like the aforementioned Polk and Fair Theaters in Queens, the Eagle (formerly the Earl) has an interesting history as a movie theater turned porn theater turned gay cruise spot. However, in an interesting twist, the Eagle now shows Bollywood features mostly in Hindi with English subtitles, to service the increasingly Pak-Indo population in the area. I understand it's become pretty run down over the years like many of its sisters.

You can read more about it at the Cinema Treasures site.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

The Polk Theater, Jackson Heights, Queens

Like the Fair Theater on Astoria Boulevard, the Polk Theater [pictured] has seen many changes and transitions over the years, most recently incarnated as a venue for "adult hits" and more covertly as a gay cruise spot. It has been closed, as chronicled in a Village Voice article. Upon my visit for photographs for my cousin's magazine, I found the place to be a symbol of the bygone glory of independent theaters and the current state of urban decay. I wonder if they'll tear it down...?

"Modern Walking Doll"

Scary Dolls
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
They are like, four feet tall, and really, really creepy.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Madonna's Nuclear Waste Removal Plans

Murky Thoughts brought to my attention Madonna’s interests in eradicating nuclear waste through the powers of Kaballah, and of course I was already aware of this because through the mystical Kabalistic connections I am in tune with her innermost thoughts as they develop. “The consciousness of sharing”, you may call it, but of course Madge and I need not use “words”.

(My favorite comment on the above linked post, by the way, is the suggestion that all the scientists she’s worked with appear in the H&M ads with her. lol)

Did you know that Madge is also saving the children of Africa? There’s really nothing bad to be said about feeding hungry children, wherever they may be, or helping villages become sustainable, but the supporters and founders list is very Kabala. It worries me that the “tools for empowerment” and “education scholarships” mentioned on the website might have a little too much to do with “spirituality for kids” rather than “how-to-survive-as-a-hungry-orphan-in-Africa for kids”.

Still love ya Madge!

Madonna's Nuclear Waste Removal Plans

Murky Thoughts brought to my attention Madonna’s interests in eradicating nuclear waste through the powers of Kabala, and of course I was already aware of this because through the mystical Kabalistic connections I am in tune with her innermost thoughts as they develop. “The consciousness of sharing”, you may call it, but of course Madge and I need not use “words”.

(My favorite comment on the above linked post, by the way, is the suggestion that all the scientists she’s worked with appear in the H&M ads with her. lol)

Did you know that Madge is also saving the children of Africa? There’s really nothing bad to be said about feeding hungry children, wherever they may be, or helping villages become sustainable, but the supporters and founders list is very Kabala. It worries me that the “tools for empowerment” and “education scholarships” mentioned on the website might have a little too much to do with “spirituality for kids” rather than “how-to-survive-as-a-hungry-orphan-in-Africa for kids”.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Alright, I'm starting to come around to the idea that John Mark Karr is the real killer of Jonbenet Ramsey, and not some freaky false confessor seeking a little press.

Regardless, homeboy is creepy as all hell.

I wonder if the comparisons are yet affecting the life of this guy?

Project Runway, Etc.

Hi! It’s been a little while.

So last night on Project Runway I wasn’t blown away by Robert’s dress for Vincent’s sister, but seriously…what can you really do for a woman that obese who literally wobbles when she walks, other than wrap a sheet around her and make a moo-moo-cardigan hybrid for the top? The judges said they would have liked to have seen some prints on her rather than solid colors – yeah, that would be so slimming on Lardy McLard. Why not just put her in cow print? Jeez. The challenge itself—involving other contestants’ mothers and sisters—was itself hateful. I couldn’t decide who was more irritating—Angela’s mother who whined about her outfit as if she were paying for it and planning on wearing the thing out of the studio, or Jeffrey, who was really kind of mean to her. Anyway, it was an interesting episode and of course all of my friends and I discussed how we would dress each other’s mothers which escalated into, frankly, vulgarities unbefitting of such upstanding women of the community.

Speaking of Project Runway, the other day I saw the recently cut Allison in the subway station at Union Square. She looks just like she does on television, maybe a little taller. I have a thing with seeing Project Runway contestants on the subway. Well, twice I’ve seen them, Daniel V. and now Allison.

More later on the goings-on.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

In this Institution....

This is for those of us who grew up with Masters of the Universe:

For me it explains so much...

Also, I have to admit I was always kind of hot for Destro.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

The Ghost of Jonbenet Ramsey

A decade long mystery has seemingly been brought closer to a close with the bust of in Thailand of a probable sex tourist with child pornography charges in his past. John Ramsey and his late wife Patricia now have some sort of vindication for the years of accusing eyes and media trials regarding their guilt in the murder of their daughter, beauty queen Jonbenet. The most recent news as of this posting is that the accused, John Mark Karr has confessed to the murder, including things “not known to the general public”.

This open letter to John Ramsey captures the spirit of what many people feel, I think, in light of the fact that the Ramseys were so scrutinized for reasons not the least of which were they had their daughter participating in the fascinatingly creepy world of children’s beauty pageants.

However, I know I don’t know John Ramsey, and I know I really have not right to judge him or his late wife, but much like this guy I’m not yet convinced, even with the confession from the Thai-kid-sex-cruiser’s own mouth.

Some things don’t add up, like, for example, the supposed killer’s ex-wife’s claim that he was in Alabama at the time. He wasn’t on original list of suspects that the Ramseys created to aid police. Also, the supposed killer claims he drugged her, had sex with her, and killed her accidentally—when there is no evidence that she was drugged and her head was bashed in, which hardly seems accidental. Sure, a killer might lie about whether the killing was really a murder, that makes sense, but why lie about drugging her? It has been reported that he was wildly obsessed with this case and maybe, as far as child-porn psychos go, he’s into being the accused for a little bit of that crazy person fame, even if it’s not the worshipful sort that Jonbenet herself enjoyed on the circuit and after her death? Also, as the supposed killer’s father suggested, if he were going into a Thai prison for child-sex-trafficking related charges, maybe he would say anything—including that he killed Jonbenet—to at least get to an American prison instead? What’s with the ransom note from a “small foreign faction”? No forced entry?

Furthermore, I want the details on how they figured out it was this guy after all these years.

In fairness to the Ramseys there’s not been any evidence to indict them and they did pass a polygraph test. Still…could there be more to the story? We’ll know as it unfolds…

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Happy Birthday Madonna!

Madge Ritchie turns 48 today. Picture from Madonnalicious visitor Josep, posted Aug. 8.

I'll Tumble For Ya

Nobody loves a celebrity who has hit rock bottom more than former “Columnist of the Year” Andrea Peyser, and she apparently likes getting in their paparazzi photos as well. Look at her in the articles’ picture – and note how she is facing the photographers rather than Boy George himself as he sweeps up who-knows-what kind of filth from this big rotten apple. Smoking the whole time.

I love how Boy George swept her feet, and then stated, “I’ve swept your feet.” I also love Boy George himself. Say what you will about him, but I think he’s brilliant from the eighties into the future. Even if he is sweeping city streets.

He only approached the gate during a break to bum a smoke - he took the whole pack - from a video cameraman.
Then he skipped away, calling back with a laugh, "I'm going to have sex with the guards!"

As Joanne Joseph from the article said, “I love him forever.”

Monday, August 14, 2006

Kitty Rescue/Highway To Heaven Moment

I was walking down the street when I noticed some kids pointing up at something. I looked across the street and noticed there was a group of gawkers on the sidewalk. Above the Duane Reade, right on top of the small “d” was a little kitty. Stuck. Some of the guys from the store next door were trying to coax it into jumping down to the awning so they could rescue it. It had apparently gotten up there through its apartment window which was left open and unscreened.

I of course had to stop to join the crowd of onlookers and wait it out to see what would happen. Eventually a man rolled up with his motorcycle helmet under his arm, and said he owned the restaurant around the corner and would come back with a ladder – a taller ladder than the one already in use. When he returned, he climbed all the way to the top step, reached out for the kitty, and eventually the scared cat crawled into the grasp of a single hand. He pulled it into his chest and descended the ladder.

People cheered. Some girl was taking pictures with her camera phone and I wish I had them. It was a magical NY moment but you probably had to be there.

Anyway, a lot happened to me this weekend, which was your garden variety butch stroll, but what I want to document is that today, when I went to the post office to mail an Ebay package, I saw the freaky blue eyed Asian kid that stares at me again! In the Post Office! I turned around for one moment when I was at the front of the line, being careful not to move forward before Blurty Thompson rang the bell lest I be yelled at, and there he was. It took me a minute to recognize him but I knew he looked familiar. When I turned back around, he was gone.

So I went out to catch the bus back to work and when I get on the bus, there he is standing against a building staring at me on the bus! I stared back and as the bus pulled off I waved. He smiled. It’s fucking weird. I feel like this child is some kind of mysterious spirit, like he’s going to eventually come forward with some Highway to Heaven motive.

Sunday, August 13, 2006


But what's with his ADIDAS tracksuit?

Friday, August 11, 2006


Michael Kors returned to Project Runway in the latest episode, and I thought I could not be happier!

But what's truly JOYOUS is that my heart, Michael Knight, won the challenge with hot pink hot pants!

Here's lookin' at you baby boy.

Poor Bradley, who is also my heart, was let go. Michael Kors was NOT having it. (I wonder if MK is a fan of Cher, the fashion icon for whom Bradley was supposed to update a look?) How could you come up with that shimmery silvery mess of a garment with this woman as your inspiration?

In fairness to Bradley though, the judges thought this creation of his was genius. (Of course Michael Kors wasn't there to shut that shit down immediately, so...)

I'll admit it's grown on me. "Interesting things with volume" as Nina Garcia said.

That's What They Say When We're Together...

Yesterday morning on the bus, I found my seat near the front and was reading my paper and sipping my iced coffee, when I noticed that an enormous black man with a mean look on his face in construction-wear was humming. As the bus moved along the humming eventually erupted into full out belting song:

Children be-haaave
That's what they say when we're together...
and watch how you pla-aaaay...

Bizzare, to say the least. I shit you not.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Let's Get Into Physical

From Unfogged, I was reminded of Olivia Newton John and the video for her hit, "Physical".

My gym is exactly like that.

P.S. Is that Artie Lang in the green half-shirt?

Monday, August 07, 2006

Things I Don't Understand

Add pleated-front pants to the growing list of Things I Do Not Understand.

Incidentally, I'm wearing pleated-front pants today due to the Borrowed Pants and Work Logo Polo Shirt Incident of 2006...that shall not be discussed here. ;)

Saturday, August 05, 2006


For employees on the Time Clock level of the totem pole, The World Church of Assimilation has a strict no overtime policy. Come five o'clock, you should be clocked out and making your way to the elevators. No starting early, no leaving late. Get it all done during your regular work hours because people just aren't giving to the Lord Your God like they used to so we ain't paying your ass a penny more than 9 to 5 costs.

But the Big Boss made an exception for me today because, as my co-worker and homegirl Ti Ti put it to her, Stroll is doing everything. I went in for a few hours and feel good about having caught up on some of the loose ends and details. Photocopying, account balancing, emails, subtle cuppings. That kind of thing.

The thing about being the one person who knows how to do everything is that you become the one person that has to do everything. And as for delegating work, well, I've gone that route but just like in little college "group" projects where one person ends up doing the work to make sure his or her own grade is good, at work you can't delegate too much because the old adage is true: If you want something done right you have to do it yourself.

Note to the professors who happen to read this: Group work have advantages for the learning process, but there are definate downfualls as well.

I left and headed to the East Side to eat an entire pizza with Kevondrala who has been in the process of Going Through It as well. On my way back I noticed in those secret ads have proliferated, but I havn't seen the dog poop one since the first time. Maybe they've recieved other complaints from Concerned Urban Citizens and done away with it.

Last night Scatty and I went to hang out with his friends and play this multi-dimensional, highly complex board game entitled Arkham Manor, when I realized that my dear Anne Arkham of must have taken the inspiration for her pseudonym from the H.P. Lovecraft universe. I hear the Call of Cthulu now when I think of her. Which, what happened to Anne? I know she was also Going Through It for a while so maybe she has just been handling the trials and tribulations that life is currently throwing her way.

After that, I went to Ye Olde Albatross and lo and behold I ran into Aarondrala and Robinowitz, who had left me a message to come join them, though I had not gotten the message due to dead cell phone. "Serendipity?" Robino asked. Indeed.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006


Project Runway: First, I'd like to say that I would have liked for them to show the designers enter the design room as it was left from last week's dog challenge: covered in shit and piss. CAUSE YOU KNOW IT WAS. They cleaned that up for TV.

And what about Cheater McCheatypants?!

P.S. Michael Kors back next week so lets all appreciate him lest he leave us again!

Driven To Drink

These people are driving me to drink, I'm telling ya.

So Monday I had a wild-hair moment (though at my most recent haircut, as illustrated in previous pictures, I instructed the man to cut it as short as possible without being strait up shaved bald). I hollered at Scatty Arbuckle and we had a spontaneous meet-up at ye olde SPLICKITY SPLASH. Two for one baby. On a Monday. Drunk by like, 8. We didn't realize it was Broadway Tuesday but, I personally had no problem watching drunk queens dancing around like fools to showtunes. Lord knows I've had similar moments.

The drag-queen providing table service kept winking at me and rubbing my back as she passed by. It has been so damn hot, and I was sweating so profusely, I kept worrying she was going to leave her handprint in my sweat as she pressed my pink dress shirt against my back.

Last night, still driven to drink by The World Church of Assimilation, I went to Stonewall (dead) and the Hanger (kind of lively). Had some drinks, got drunker than the night before, wandered around the pier and the dirty bookstore near the highway, and gave my number out--as I often do--to too many people, one of whom has called me twice...since last night. Why can't the one's I want to call blow my phone the hell up?

More later. La Isla Bonita Part 3 forthcoming.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

La Isla Bonita Part 2

At the beach the weather was perfect and the water was the coldest water I've ever felt in my life. The huge, icey waves knocked the wind out of you. It felt good to be thrown around by the water a little, though there was a frightening moment where the undertow got me and I almost drowned. (I of course had to tell everyone how they'd wish they'd loved me more while I was alive.) When I came out of the water, I felt like I had been full-immersion baptised, rinsed clean and freed.

We had the bottle opener crisis of 2006 in which we had non-twist-off bottles with no bottle opener. It was resolved with a journey back to town. Those little key chain bottle openers, by the way, don't do any good if you don't have you're keyes with you.

A little volley ball, a little jog on the beach. Yes, I jogged at Aarondrala's request, a-cups flapping in the wind. I also raced Aarondrala (lost) and drank and did drugs on said beach.

On the Beach

I have to say that of all the possible places in the world, I am perhaps most happy at the beach.

Any beach.

Well, maybe not any beach.


After the fabulous day on the beach Saturday, Kevondrala and Aarondrala made their way to the Pines party and Jo Jo Kaps and I returned to the Grove. Remember how the water taxis only run 'till 1:30 AM? Well used our wonderful judgement and decided that we would just stay out and wait up for the next one...that came a NINE. So we had hours to kill.

I managed to get lost on the beach and strait up tackled by two little would-be rapist 20 year old queens, and then in my struggle to find my way back devoured by mosquitos, and beach flies that bite. I still feel like they're eating me.

So much happened in those hours, and one little anorexic bitch called me FAT. To be precise, he asked me, "Are you fat?" To which I replied, "No, you're just too skinny honey." The new love of my life, Ceaser, told Jo Jo that they had been clowning him for being too skinny, so it was in response to that somehow, not the real belief that I'm actually fat. But still that was the wrong button to push. Especially since I'd been drinking.

Finally at 9:45, covered in sand and bites, still drunk and aching from the miles of walking and thirty minutes of sleeping on a bench (that I had previously fallen off of, a proud moment of showcasing my grace and poise), we had a moment of breakfast at some little shack that was opening up. My new love Ceaser was there to see me looking like I'd been put through the ringer. "Walk of shame" doesn't even describe it. Then we went down to the dock.

The ferry was coming.

To be continued.

La Isla Bonita

La Isla Bonita

I made my first trip to Fire Island this weekend, lived it and loved it. The purpose of the trip was to celebrate Kevondrala’s birthday, but as he had complications from having his wisdom teeth removed recently, he didn’t arrive until Saturday. So on Friday night after the long journey via LIRR and ferry (I won’t be absolutely original and make a ferry/fairy joke), Jo Jo Kaps, Aarondrala and I decided to get on board the water taxi (also known as “The Boat of Death” or as Jo Jo put it “Butch Stroll By Sea”) from our little home in Ocean Bay Park and check out the very gay Cherry Grove. (But first I insisted we do an inspection for bed bugs.) We ventured to the Ice Palace where it happened to be karaoke night and a woman named Gina performed an interpretive dance to “Flashdance”.

Gina at the Ice Palace

What a feeling indeed. We pronounced Gina with a long i. You can’t tell from the picture but her ass cheeks were hanging out of them daisy dukes and she was loving every minute of it.

So the thing about staying in Ocean Bay Park is that you have to take the Water Taxis to Cherry Grove and the Pines, and they only run so late (the last one was usually at 1:30, and really, who’s done partying at 1:30?). We made Friday an early night for that reason and because we had all worked all day then took the journey through the center of the earth required to reach the island.

From Friday night, this is perhaps my favorite picture of myself ever.
Fire Island

We fell out hard and woke up early, and went to have breakfast and wait for Kevondrala’s eminent arrival. We collected him from the ferry dock and then we went to the beach at the Pines, which was gorgeous. The weather was perfect, the queens were sunning, and there was full nudity.

Not me of course. Though my beached-whale looking ass did rock the box-cut shorts that I have served me so well this summer. Pictures forthcoming. Right now I am so buried underwork and in the midst of writing this I had a line of people at my cubicle all wanting a piece of me, which reminds me of the mosquito epidemic that I'm going through right now. I was practically eaten alive and somehow feel that they're still eating me.

To be continued.