Oh yeah… New Year’s Eve.
Here are some (sober) New Year’s celebration photographs:
New Year’s toast: midnight champagne at Georgetown’s Mie n’ Yu
The Pair di Dolce: random glory of Jameson and Shedaun… um, paleness.
“Stop right now” - Evening’s end in Dupont… you know how we do.
Happy Year of the Shancy! (08.08.0 
“Happiness is every human being’s birthright.”
- the Yogi Tea bag label in my mug right now
(After seeing a variety of YouTube videos and responses on my laptop)
Papa Freeman: “Intelligent people seem to be supporting Ron Paul…people who think… people on the internet, college students, educated, smart people…”
(takes a sip of bourbon)
“It’s the unwashed masses that support the faces they know.”
(moments later)
“Ya know, it’s just too bad he looks like an elf and sounds like a cartoon character.”
I am Jameson. I promote a revolution of freedom. I am trying to realize myself as an individual.
It seems a lot of people agree - or are realizing - there are many ways in which self-realization is oppressed. Some have been drowned by the political, capitalist, and religious means of misleading people.
Whether accidental or intentional, it is important - if not inevitable - for us to slow the ability of society to shape the person, and hasten the ability of the person to shape society. Given that this problem is perceived by many, and from many perspectives, a common agenda is needed: an organized demand for individual freedom and all it entails.
I believe that as more and more people search for truth in themselves, and can find happiness in their own lives, the need for organized authority - in all its forms (social, political, religious) - will diminish. I do not try to advocate an organized, systematic approach to finding the individual within every person - only the freedom and means to do so.
I believe in God, Happiness, Fun, Truth, and Power.
I like chocolate chip cookies with coconut in them, vulgarities, and being irresponsible with my friends.
When a person resigns to apathy, they are so void of self that they allow circumstance to govern them. Apathy treats power structures and opportunity as though they are static things, counterfeit byproducts of fate. To pretend non-action is action is to treat circumstance like God.
Hinting on aspects of modern healthcare and individual freedom, this is a stream of thought adapted from Plato’s The Republic and Socrates’ metaphor of the just city and the ship…
Very few sailors make a good captain and
Not every captain is a good sailor
A sailor who wants to be captain
Because of ambition alone
is not, whatsoever a captain
A captain should never beg his sailors to obey him
Nor sailors beg a man to be their captain
Just as a doctor should never approach a patient
To give them surgery
So should the ailing ask for diagnosis and treatment
It is up to, and the duty of the individual to know he is sick
Not the doctor’s to tell him that he is
Why be a sailor when you can captain your own ship?
Went to NY this weekend for my friend Canaan’s birthday. For Canaan, the city was more of a layover between Tokyo and LA. It was dolce…
Today, it’s back to being a student, Monday class, and trying to have my nature be consistent with that identity.
above: Dolce group - Friday evening, post-dinner, pre-party
above: Rosè on the patio - No Standing! Outside the hotel patio gates was the oldest cemetary in Manhattan… good place for an afternoon after 
above: Being obscene outside The Bowery - Canaan doesn’t dig the papshot
above: Dolce - trendsetting (notice the tie inside the shirt… it’s copyrighted).
Before the modern era, there was no tangible, mainstream conception of sexuality as an identity applicable to any person. Rather, a sexual act was viewed as a behavior, and not indicative of any greater meaning for the individual. A behavior could be condemned by a religion, or discouraged by a community, but it was the act that was perceived as immoral or deviant, and not the one committing it. “Sodomites” were perhaps a singled-out group of people, with references both in religious history, Western and Islamic law. Indeed, James I of England declared that sodomy, along with witchcraft, willful murder, incest and counterfeiting was one of the “horrible crimes that yee are bound in conscience never to forgive” (Bredbeck, 5).
However, such people were still targeted for a behavior, and identified as wrongdoers in general and not people of any certain “sexuality”. Furthermore, they were targeted as ones who willfully engaged in such “sinful” behavior or acted against God, but such acts were never described as disorders of the mind – nor were their practitioners ascribed a sexual identity – only immoral in choice and perhaps an identity of ‘wrongdoer’ or sinner. Throughout the Renaissance, acts of sodomy were considered to be against the divinity of the Catholic Church and deemed “unnatural”, but they were still considered behaviors that individuals could freely choose to engage or not engage in.
The question of identity in all its facets has plagued communities and individuals for centuries. Arguably, defining someone by what they do is very logically sound, as there are few things besides physical attributes that can be more easily used to “group” people into categories. The question becomes, however: why are categories necessary? And furthermore, what value do they have? Identity is a fascinating thing, but it would arguably not exist unless it benefited someone. To this end, when it comes to sexual behavior, how society came to perceive peoples’ choice of action as being determined by one of several “identities” is an important thing to consider. Additionally, why it is that labels of morality continue to apply to choices of non-harmful behavior is relevant to understanding the parallels between commonly perceived notions of individual identity and the power structures of religious, political and industrial society.
‘Betterness’ and ‘worseness’ are, of course, subjective and defined by a community to apply against and within itself. These identities stay in place because they have some value. Where do these communal notions of morality – and good vs. bad behavior – come from? Having a person assigned to a group fulfills a role in society for people to judge; in particular, to judge in comparison to themselves and their peers. If, for instance, homosexuality is considered “bad” by those in your community, and you, as an observer and member of the community, abstain from engaging in it, then you are able to identify yourself as someone on the opposing side of an immoral symbol – a “gay person”. Thus, you may consider yourself “good” by default. Likewise, if “alcoholism” is a “disease of the weak”, and you are not an alcoholic, then you can place yourself in a category of the stronger. Hierarchies of groups provide status. Status feeds the ego of individuals, which sedates them into oppression but more importantly encourages community among people. Those who commit “bad” acts or engage in “bad” behavior can be classified by their specific wrong – and thus, homosexuals, heterosexuals, and ‘sexuals’ of all kinds become relevant and identified groups.
It is difficult for many people not to classify people by actions; indeed, many would argue it is a reasonable way of judging and uses the least amount of prejudice. Additionally, if a person does something that hurts another, or commits an act that is considered illegal, then it is likely in the best interest of the community to take action against him or her. But, if such a method of judgment is valid, then there must certainly be parameters to its application. If not, every action committed would result in a coinciding identity.
Should one be drinking wine – is one not a wine-drinker? Should one be having intercourse, is one not an intercourse-haver? People, especially within American society, often identify with their profession (i.e. – “so, you are an accountant” – as opposed to “you do accounting”). This self-identification of Americans in particular is pretty widely known and often discussed, though most individuals, American or not, would stop short of actually describing their existence by what they do. In this sense, it seems it is only logical to identify someone as what they do while they are doing it. While one might drink martinis, one is not a martini-drinker while they are sleeping. While one might craft using wood, they are not a carpenter while playing with their children.
Identities relating to actions, be they professions or mundane practices, do not seem to be logically sound or relevant outside of immediate “doing”. This is because any attempt to define a person wholly on a single action or pattern of actions will undoubtedly collapse amongst competition from other actions, either past, present or future. This is to say, while someone may be a teacher, they are also a parent when raising their children, or a writer while at home. Since what someone is doing, long-term or short-term, is still always a temporary aspect of their schedule, current ambition or life, it is not meaningful to attempt to identify them by it.
Best regards,
Jameson Freeman
Bredbeck, Gregory. Sodomy and Interpretation: From Marlowe to Milton. Cornell University Press, Ithaca: 1991.
Pic by Jonathan Zuck Photography, © 2007
Socrates never wrote anything. What we know of his life, teachings and impact on Athenian society is from others, like Plato and Xenophon, who were students and associates and who published various dialogues about the man. His reasoning for never publishing any material of his own was basically to prevent the misuse or perversion of knowledge. He asserted that once something was written, it could be read by any one, and that not just any person was deserved of knowledge (or at least his knowledge, I suppose).
Socrates image from http://www.philosophypages.com/ph/socr.htm
This attempt to make wisdom exclusive was grounded in Socrates’ belief that with knowledge came responsibility – that knowledge cannot simply be possessed, but must also be managed. His method of teaching was oration. The old sophist would hold lectures and speak to people whom he deemed worthy… or responsible enough for him to pass his knowledge and his questions on to. In this sense, Socrates made sure always to have students, and never simply readers, of his philosophies.
A professor named Alan Levine, who I currently have for a course called Ancient Political Thought, gave the following example of how knowledge does indeed come with responsibility: suppose scientists know how to configure a powerful nuclear device decide to publish their works, and make them available to anyone. Rogue governments, and any one with the proper resources – who just needed instructions – could now build the most deadly bomb. Very likely, the scientists would defend themselves by saying something like, ‘I just published my work, it’s not my problem who reads it… I have the freedom to write whatever I choose, and they are responsible for what they do with that information.’ Professor Levine described this as being Socrates’ worst nightmare. According to the ancient Athenian, both parties would be responsible for the creation of a nuclear weapon, and equally so.
Jameson Freeman, image by Mark Furner Photography © 2007
The black and white shot of me being included in the same post as a bust of Socrates is meant to be slightly offensive and very, very arrogant. It is my blog that you’re reading, isn’t it? While I risk their misuse in sharing them, I hope my imitation pearls of wisdom encourage you to consider past philosophies - and create your own - in light of our current political atmosphere.
“He blamed it on the light wind… I agreed with him. But, I knew it wasn’t the light wind,” my father recounted as he described the last time he went sailing with his neighbor. He was explaining how the fellow sailor was getting older, and his mind was slowing down. Apparently he wasn’t coordinated with how he was navigating while at the helm of the boat. He finally offered my father the wheel, an offer that was eagerly accepted, and gave the excuse about the wind. I want to go sailing again soon. I miss it.
My father was speaking from the shotgun seat. My brother was driving his new, bright, gold Volvo with big rims, and I was sitting in the backseat next to the cat we just adopted from the Anne Arundel County shelter. We were returning home after picking out Cabernet, the newest addition to my Dad’s house in Annapolis. My away message for the afternoon read “Out trying to find some pussy with my father and bro… we’re getting a cat”.
My brother is back from spending nearly a month in Bavaria, Germany – good beer there. He is learning German. By the time he starts college, he’ll almost certainly be fluent. He wants to be an F1 auto racer, and knowing German would definitely not hurt.
My brother and I are spending a few days on the Bay with our father. I haven’t been down in way too long.
The fact that beauty exists, even as something only within an individual perception or idea, is inherently profound. Existence itself seems likely to be something that is simply inevitable. A problem, I think, that so many atheists have, is associating inevitability with meaninglessness. Simply because there is something - means there could never have been nothing. Non-existence cannot be. As a result, beauty may be fleeting, subjective, unstable, and without logical assessment of any kind; but it may very well be the meaning of life.
Christian fundamentalism is the greatest threat to the free world because it exists, festers and is perpetuated within the most powerful nation in the free world.
(In other news: I had a shoot last weekend. It was dolce.)
Jameson modeling a shirt for Stella Bonds, a new boutique clothing line - Washington, D.C. / Photographer: David Wolff / Copyright 2007 DigitalDPhotography
“We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that, among these, are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; that, to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the government; and, whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it.These words from the Declaration of Independence are instructive at this moment. Because not only whenever any form of government, but whenever any government official becomes destructive of the founding purposes, that official or those officials must be held accountable.
Because I believe the vice president’s conduct of office has been destructive to the founding purposes of our nation. Today, I have introduced House Resolution 333, Articles of Impeachment Relating to Vice President Richard B. Cheney. I do so in defense of the rights of the American people to have a government that is honest and peaceful.”
These words are from a press conference held by Dennis Kucinich introducing articles of impeachment against the vice president. We have evolved to a society that currently allows for leadership positions to be occupied by career CEOs and amateur politicians. The idea of legitimacy does not come from, and is not reinforced by elections… especially “popular” ones. If we are to treat public office holders like business professionals, then we must be consistent. If he is not going to be arrested and jailed (or shot in the face), Dick Cheney should, at the very least, be fired.
I went to high school in Maryland. Members of my graduating class as well as friends I have since met are currently attending VA Tech. I was going to post a politically relative commentary this afternoon, but in light of what happened about 4 hours Southwest of here (DC), I thought the date inappropriate. The idea of being chained in a dorm building or a classroom for the purpose of being gunned down is terrifying and grotesque. It is a devastating look into what must be an inherent human evil; and, worst of all - it has happened before. Trying to imagine how a family might feel losing their son or daughter weeks before the end of the Spring semester, or how a friend, professor or classmate would be affected after being faced with such a robbery of life, is impossible and unnecessary. We should all consider what could exist within us that enables a person to kill people in a way so void of mercy and humanity. As a non-involved, I hope the affected families, friends - and indeed all people - can look for peace in their lives and this interconnected world. Amidst this day of pain, I am sending positive energy and love outwards and thanking God that I have, however little, an abundance of both.
The piece of paper on the end of my Yogi green tea bag this morning read:
“Wisdom, character and consciousness conquer everything.”
I thought it was a dolce quote.
MAKE 2007 MARVELOUS
First we had to find the dolce location for our calendarical turnover.
It’s dolce friend Henian from the Marie Claire shoot!
At least I’m not alone in my dehydration.
I get followed into the bathroom too? The life of a socialite is never easy.
Ladies and the tramp: Katie, Jameson and Shancy
Have a Dolce New Year
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon shopping in Annapolis with my father and brother. After Christmas - we are good Protestants, of course - is a time conducive to spending money. As the day progressed, and the early evening of December began, my father decided to just wait in the car outside stores while my brother and I finished wasting holiday cash.
When we got back in the car, my father was on his car phone (he, to this day, refuses to buy, use or believe in cell phones) with a local radio station. He was on air with the Ron Smith show - talking with the host about celebrity New Year’s resolutions. They were mostly jokes and political commentary. My father’s suggestion was for Phil Mickelson (a famous golfer - obvi).
For inquiring minds, the joke went as follows:
“Phil Mickelson’s resolution should be to watch basketball.
That way, he’ll know the layup is always a possibility.”
(The punchline references the fact that Mickelson lost a tournament by trying to hit the ball too far - when he could have hit it purposely short of the hole, then moved in and hit it again. Trying to go all the way - too soon - is sometimes not worth… losing.)
The conversation between Ron Smith and my father then moved to the newly elected Comptroller of Maryland. As my brother and I tried to load our bags in the car quietly, this is the subject matter I heard discussed.
Peter Franchot, who is to be the new Comptroller of the state of Maryland, ran a surprisingly successful campaign against incumbent Comptroller and political legend, William Donald Schaefer. Promising to fight for - among other things - health care for all Maryland residents, he won the Democratic nomination in the primary. This upset is remarkable, especially given his challenger. What is also remarkable is the apparent delusion that a Comptroller, as a financial officer, has any power beyond monetary moderating power and tax oversight. (Health care?) Unless Franchot has ambitions beyond his new office, he will certainly not be directly involved in such policy-related decisions.
“But Jameson”, I hear you cry, “what has this to do with me, my life and reality - which exist outside the state of Maryland?” Well, my dolce disciple, I think it illustrates two things - which show something rather common among politicians and voters of any state and country. Politicians promise things far outside their ability or office - making their “campaigning” uninformative and misleading. Likewise, people are generally unaware of what, exactly, the powers are for the different offices they elect officials to. This imbalance in voter understanding and political pledging leads to problems - I hope no one would argue with that. However, it is a problem that, on a basic level, is addressable. If people learn the actual roles of government positions, or demand a politician match their ambitions with the actual roles of their potential offices, government would arguably function more efficiently; and, that is something that would benefit everybody.
Also, I wanted to provide another personal update on this blog and write one last posting before New Years - so there you have it. I hope every person reading this has a marvelous annual turnover. Mine, of course, will be dolce.
I am home at my parents’ place in Maryland for the Christmas break, and was using my bathroom when I found the January, 2007 issue of Popular Science magazine on the floor – where my brother had left it. While that may be personal information to share, it explains 1: where I am at the moment and 2: why in the world I would read Popular Science. On the cover was an image of a small, spaceship/airplane looking craft and the words “MARINES IN SPACE” above it. I brought the magazine out of the bathroom (I do not spend enough time in there to read, but I did wash my hands before leaving – let’s move on) and found the article inside which turned out to be called “Semper Fly” by David Axe. It explored the possibilities of future military technology, in addition to “exposing” what is currently in the making. Apparently, a Small Unit Space Transport and Insertion vehicle, called Sustain, is indeed being developed. Why? Well, that’s why this blog entry is interesting.
Image by Peter Bollinger / © Popular Science magazine January, 2007
It would seem that when the United States military wants to insert itself somewhere in the world, it needs permission from surrounding nations – usually allies. We aren’t able, believe it or not, to trample across sovereign territory to get to a place where we have decided to invade/attack/or keep the peace. As such, allies have been important in any military campaign America has had, unless it takes place on domestic soil, which, let’s be honest, ain’t gon’ happen anymo’.
So, this “problem” led Roosevelt Lafontant, a former Marine lieutenant colonel who works for Schafer Corporation (military tech company), to pose the question, “What if we don’t have to have anybody’s permission? What if we just go above and drop in?” Well, holy son of Sam that is certainly a brilliant idea, and here’s why:
(Interesting to note – the waiting period where 500 marines were sitting on a warship in the Indian Ocean until they had the go-ahead to be deployed is what is blamed for Osama bin Laden escaping before he could be captured – sentence too long? Too bad, reread.)
We see that there is certainly an incentive for such an ability to move troops around the world, and the idea of using space to assist military efforts is, at least, brilliant in its conception. The article explains that the goal of the pentagon in creating such a program would be to move troops anywhere on earth in less than two hours. Not bad. Now, here is the problem:
Even if this system of space deployment is used for retrieving hostages, it is probably more productive to invest in ways to avoid such situations in the first place. I am not sure that the United States, who already possesses unrivaled military technology and power, is not better off putting its money into diplomatic efforts and international agreements. The focus here would be to avoid such disasters before they arise. Furthermore, having partners and alliances is not only helpful; it is necessary for the future power and stability of America. The idea that we should invest in ways to “go it alone” more easily is frightening and very, very stupid. Also, this argument does not even consider other spending that is necessary for the preservation of our way of life. Global warming research and domestic spending on things like education are in dire need of funds.
Defense and technology corporations are receiving contracts so large they could never have been obtained through any means but a government. No mainstream product could sell enough, at a high enough price, that it could rack up the billions in revenue that companies like Halliburton have been. In this sense, they are marvelous business entities – more successful than any merchant venture or capitalist ambition in history. I would like to say, however, that I do not think it is the “evil corporations” that want to take over the world – as this is the job of the American military – rather, they just want to make money. The military wants to maintain the power of its country, and thus comes up with new ideas that require technological advances and equipment to support a nation as widely spread as the United States. The defense companies are simply more than willing to accept lucrative contracts to build and develop such things. The end result are two powerful actors with different ambitions and yet, a unified path of action. The military industrial combo is not a conspiratorial body of dark forces, rather it is duality that can ask itself for what it wants, and then deliver results. While one can attach a morality to such a thing, it is – at the very least – very powerful and self-contained.
But, that aside, I am not arguing that a response-ready force should not always be maintained by America. It should be. It is a dangerous – even unstable – world and the United States has threats to be prepared for. I am also not saying our military might shouldn’t be the most powerful in the world – I certainly would rather ours be than someone else’s. I’m going to end this entry with an excerpt straight from Popular Science. It is the last paragraph of the entire article and was what got me thinking in the first place. I think it is a most provocative bit of writing:
“Whether or not Sustain ever makes it past the concept stage, it’s clear that military planners are looking to increase the mobility of American forces. A Marine space transport – one that could reduce politically charged bureaucratic delays and the potential for mission snafus – might sound impossible, but to Lafontant and others entrusted with the future of war, it is simply the next logical step” (Axe, 70).
The future of war – Consider that by itself. Perhaps, the future of defense sounds better, and maybe only a little. One might have thought the focus of a great and generous nation would be to envision a future of… something else. I suppose the pentagon thinks it knows what it is doing.
In any event, I’m hoping my next bathroom-floor discovery is the Dead Sea Scrolls.
As I am writing this, it is 12:20 a.m. on 12/20 - and I am now twenty-two years old, something I am only currently aware of because my Shedaun called just after the clock struck away my first year of legal drinking under US law. “Happy mother-f*cking birthdaaaayyyyy!” was the first thing heard upon answering the phone.
The following is a photograph from this evening. Myself, my family, and our dog, Winchester, were (pausing to consider whether to actually share this information)… photographed with Santa… at the mall:
This is a message I received from my friend Jackie on the marvelous MySpace.com. She won a contest and ultimately a free trip to Paris.
Given that her letter ended with the question, “whats going on in your life”, I felt a tremendous need to give an adequate answer. As I put together the most complete update to the dolce goings-on of the last few months, here is the message from Jackie. I felt that posting it in its entirety was the best way to show off the perfection it embodied.
| Nate: | Nov 29 2006 1:36 AM |
|---|---|
| Subject: | french indulgence… |
this email maybe long. read it in shifts  and respond at you liesure. no rush. my trip: basically at the last moment i talk with the people funding the trip. i tell them. i am not interested in there reality show and i refuse to be filmed. i point out i am not contractually bound to partisipate and i find it explotive. after many phone calls back and forth with producers and the company they relize they have to give me the trip and they cant tape me agaist my will. it is a victory in my favor. The Hotel is INCREDIBLE. Statues, Gold Leaf and chandeliers line every hall. I’m pretty sure everyone there must have thought I was some stray prostitute left over from the night before. Ha.The first 2 days. Its freezing and non stop rain, I face tiny sidewalks and Huge umbrellas, I fear decapitation, and practically catch “the consumption”. I learn that bubble baths and Marble floors is a reckless combination. I rape the mini bar. I decide french waiters are scum of the earth, roomservice becomes my new best friend. To avoid the cold and rain I stay in the room. I read, sleep, eat, relax and spend an insane amount of time in the bath tub.On the third day its beautiful. In the park I meet a mexican solider. (Who knew Mexico even had a military?) We spend the day seeing the monuments the Eiffel tower and end at the Louvre, by the end of the night we’re making out in this long hall engulfed by statues of the saints.Day 4, I spend the whole day wondering, taking everything in. I listen to trance and down-tempo as I pass trough museums, shops and streets, and feel kind of sedated. It’s a strange feeling to be in totally different country all by yourself. You feel like you don’t exist. At some point that night I end up at some random kids bah mitzvah in a slip and boots, totally weird, totally random.My last full day in Paris I meet and Egyptian living in Paris, He drags me all over the city to a few interesting spots off the beat and path. He wore a lot of gold chains, loved American rap, and told me he had friends living the “American Dream” in New Jersey, which makes me laugh. Because I’m pretty sure if there is an american dream it lives no where near new jersey. We end up at my hotel. I let him kill off all the beer and liquor in the mini bar. He smokes joints and speaks in a hybrid of 3 languages all at once.and I only understand about half of what he says. But I like that every thing makes him laugh. He fingers me while trying to debate current political events. Sexual pleasure typically renders me mute and retarded. The next morning I catch a flight home and its not till I’m in the car home from the air port that my dad asks whats on my neck. I have no clue what hes talking about till I check a mirror when I get home and realize I have the most insane hickey I have ever seen in my life, my neck resembles a crime scene photo of a strangulation victim. To conclude my final thoughts on france… Paris is nice yes. But not the Religious experience people make it out to be. People who say they hate the french are usually ignorant red necks that have yet to meet an actual french person and will never visit. The french are thinner yes. Better dress by far, but better looking, not really. Paris is cool but if your gonna spend the money the french riviera is better, hands down. And for romance hit Italy, and if your truly in love you could be in a closet and it would seem life changing as long as your with the one you love. and thats pretty much that. and you? What about you? whats going on in your life. |
Like the Fiona Apple concert I went to on Monday night, life has been interesting. I went to the concert with my dear friend Alix (marvelous tickets and company) and it was a dolce evening. The Wolftrap/Filene Center in Virginia is such a cool place for a concert because it is enclosed by an enormous park and surrounded by woods. Perfect atmosphere for… the kind of people who would go to a Fiona Apple concert. I’ve also been eating an apple every day this week, and I would recommend it to anybody. I like Golden Delicious and the green ones – I guess they’re Granny Smith.
In other news, ladies and gentlemen – my mother has discovered the How To Be Dolce blog. I don’t know if a staffer informed her about it, my brother told her, or she Googled my name for some reason, but the fact remains that she has, indeed, read the “Marie Claire” post from late June. Her reaction can be summed up with a quote, “I think there was a focus on the frustration rather than the helping” – which was of course not my intention, and you all should know that if it were not for my Mom, I would be stranded (and not just on the side of I-95 in 100` heat). Still, I will have to be careful about who I mention things to in the future.
My Mom’s birthday was August 2nd, and although my siblings are away at school in Connecticut and camp in Eastern Maryland, we celebrated the day quietly and will celebrate the woman in a couple weekends, when everyone is together. Happy Birthday, Mom!
[Subtitle: Who refunded his ticket and fled the theatre quickly]
As I work on what will be my latest opinion article to post, “Why Right-Wingers Are Gay”, I thought I’d give a brief look into all that is relevant and worth knowing, namely – my weekend. Friday night I had a small photo shoot scheduled with a photographer who was doing some art pieces for a gallery in Santa Monica, California. The exhibit featured a person sitting in the darkness. For more things dark-sided, please click here. Anyways, the photographer decided to conduct the shoot at a movie theatre in downtown DC. The movie-watching-model was to sit in the theatre, in the darkness, and be photographed. I was to be that model. I asked my friend Brendan to come with me because I didn’t know what to expect with taking pictures in a movie theatre and because I wanted to go out afterwards.
In any event, we arrived at the meeting place at 9:00pm and looked around for our photographer… let’s call him Huckleberry. He had been described to me as “6′4″ with long hair – looks like an artist”. After spotting a tall, slender man standing alone with a carrying bag who fit that description, Brendan and I approached him and introduced ourselves. He smiled big, gave a greeting and asked which film we’d like to see. Part of the deal, besides compensation and mild exposure at the California gallery, was being treated to a movie I wanted to see at the time I wanted to see it… call it a perk. I chose The Devil Wears Prada at 9:00pm.
Huckleberry bought Brendan and me a ticket and we went upstairs to the theatre floor. What followed within the next twenty minutes resulted in my departure from the theatre by 9:30 that evening. Despite the fact that both my friend and I were given tickets to the movie we requested, our dear photographer had bought himself a ticket for Miami Vice. For those unfamiliar with either film, they’re not easily mistaken for the other. The problem with this was that Vice had an enormous line because it was its opening night. When checked at the ticket-holder desk, Huckleberry was told to get in a line that even Polish people wouldn’t tolerate to get their bread for the week. At this point, I began looking around agitatedly, not expecting to be in the middle of the Friday night movie-going crowd for as long as I had been. When I looked at Brendan, he just mouthed the words, “what the f**************ck?” Instead of having us wait for him while he stood in line with the herding cattle, Huck had an idea.
“Hey – I’m going to *inaudible*. Ok? Jameson?”
“… What?”
“I’m going to just go to the bathroom. That way I’ll be in the theatre. You guys just come right in and I’ll meet you in the hall.”
After looking at Brendan and straightening my shirt, “OK, marvelous.”
We proceeded to be told that the theatre wasn’t ready for us, and we waited in the hallway while Huckleberry went around looking for one that was empty or at least between films. He tried one that was screening a strange looking French film. Finally he found the winner – a theatre playing The Ant Bully. We walked in, still holding our Devil Wears Prada tickets, and I received instructions from him to be photographed. Afterwards, he took photos of Brendan as well. It only took around fifteen minutes. We both signed releases and walked back into the hallway, where Huck started saying his thanks and telling us to enjoy our film. “I have to pee,” I said and disappeared into the men’s room. I realized I was no longer in a movie mood. Upon Brendan’s recommendation, we decided to go out. There were people we had to meet up with and places we had to be seen. We waited for about five minutes until we thought the photographer was gone, then carefully made our way towards the exits downstairs, looking around to make sure Huck wasn’t watching.
I do not often see films in the theatre, but I wanted to go out and Brendan had already seen The Devil Wears Prada. So, instead of staying and watching The Ant Bully, some bazaar-looking French film, or the one I had originally chosen – we cashed in our credit-card-bought tickets with Guest Services and left having an extra twenty bucks. Dolce, we decided. The entire walk back to the car we were vigilant of being watched, thinking that Huckleberry might be offended if he thought we just wasted the tickets he had purchased. Speaking of things French, I’d like to take this opportunity to shout out to a certain Frenchie and say how marvelous it is that he is back in my life. Puanteur Bout Fromage.
Monday night I attended the DC premier of M. Night Shyamalan’s Lady in the Water. I know, life is dolce… but really, what else is Jameson supposed to do on a weekday evening?
Besides an immediate ‘good’ or ‘bad’ judgment, I do not enjoy talking about well-done movies immediately after seeing them, because reflection usually leads to a better analysis. However, my date, who works for Warner Bros. Studios and was the reason for my attendance, was a good candidate to share an evening car ride review of the film.
First of all, it is incredibly different than advertised. Not particularly a horror film, it is much more a psychological thriller showing a symbolic conflict between good and evil. This is common with Shyamalan’s work, however there was no little girl in the movie at all, and the words “Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf…” - as heard in the TV previews, is never spoken. The creatures are also not wolves - but I won’t give any more away. The actor Paul Giamatti was marvelous, and I hated even the idea of seeing Sideways… so that surprised me because I did not expect to like him in this… at all. Overall, Lady in the Water is an ambitious film that tries to incorporate a fantastical fairytale with depressed, suburban life in an apartment complex. In so doing, it forces the audience to examine their subconscious perceptions of good and evil, while giving them visuals of mystical creatures. If you are not expecting a horror film, it is worth seeing – and my recommendations are worth taking.
After seeing the film, I began thinking about the trend in Hollywood lately to make films that seem to show a battle between
good and bad or light and darkness. The “good’ is always a relatable, human character or group and the “bad” is always a powerful force, person, or group that is not easy to understand. It seems to reflect an inherent belief in America lately that there is a good and evil in the world, something that has greatly pronounced the United States as a somewhat fundamental, overzealous nation amongst much of the international community. The belief in an evil force that is fantastical, biblical or mythical in nature – and then translating it to the “unseen” threat of terrorism – has enabled the world’s most powerful government to begin a crusade against unstable regions, who they see as places that can be reshaped for America’s (and capitalism’s) advantage. Just a thought – now go out to the movies. Lady in the Water hits theatres July 21.
Having just returned from a long ride out on my jetski – as j’adore PWCs (personal watercrafts for the boating illiterate) – I had some time to think, get some sun and recharge. All are important to do once and a while. It is always cool to spend time in Annapolis with my Dad. He lives on the South River of the area that until recently has just been the surroundings of “seeing Dad”, as well as the capital city of Maryland.
There usually aren’t a lot of waves on weekdays because fewer people are out on the Bay. Today, on a particularly rough-surf Monday, I began to appreciate the city and place off whose shore I was speeding. Annapolis is an old city, with mostly red brick buildings overlooking a famous waterfront. It has a marvelous mix of people, from white trash to upper class, and all races that fill such categories up. It has a great number of art galleries and interesting shopping centers. Sailors, boaters and politicians patronize the restaurants in the Harbor, and as I slowed down at the site of a police boat, I appreciated my father’s choice in location more than I ever have. Annapolis is also home to the US Naval Academy, where my grandfather went for a time and great-grandfather graduated from.
I turned into a deep cove and had to slow my speed from the usual 50 mph (we got a fast little sucker) to a HORRIFIC 6 mph. I really don’t know why kids playing on a little man-made beach with jellyfish nets around it requires ME to watch the amount of waves I create – but so be it. As a good conservative Republican, I just find it ridiculous. Especially since the apocalypse is coming soon, and then it won’t matter how much wake our boats produced from speeding through coves – right? If you understood the reference just made, you are marvelous. So, in this cove that I motored through like a limping rabbit, I came across a marshy area filled with blue herons and ducks. If I were a CBS Sunday Morning producer, I would have orgasmed. Past the beautiful scene of tall grasses, fallen trees, and sky-reflecting water, I saw – no joke – a shipwreck. A big, old, wooden fishing boat probably from the 1930s had been washed down the cove until the water was so shallow it hit bottom. I would have jumped on and looked around, but I had nothing to tie my jetski up with, and also had to think about snakes. Next time I’m going back with rope and blue jeans. Call me Crocodile Dundee Jr.
When I got back to my father’s dock, I found about half a dozen 14-15 year old boys with hammers, nails and other tools moving around everywhere. There were what looked like crab traps and a pile of chicken bones in one corner. “Right… hi, guys,” I said as they saw me motor in and helped me tie up. Not even wanting to ask, I stepped over the preteen dockworkers on my way up to the house and told them all to have a great day. “You too – see ya later!” was the creepy reply. When I walked into the house, I saw my father getting dressed to go lecture at the local community college:
“Hey guy, how’s the jetski running?” (My father calls me ‘guy’)
“Good Dad, um… why are there kids all over your dock?”
“They’re fixing it for me.”
“What? … OK. They’re not Mexicans, Dad.”
“I know guy, but they live in the neighborhood and don’t have a dock of their own to use, so I told them they could replace some boards on mine.”
“What are you paying them?”
“I’m supplying the wood… and they can go crabbing from our dock whenever they want.”
I don’t know if my father is violating numerous labor laws, but I suppose it’s pretty economical of him. In any event, it was nice to take a break from auditions, people and parties (basically everyone and everything) to appreciate things that all the responsibilities of being dolce usually prevent. One more night of man food, wine and movies with Dad before returning to the district for a while.
This is a late recount of my Independence Day for my loyal audience (and by audience I mean Brendan, Sonali, Shedaun, Chris and Brad - but enjoy nonetheless):
For the last two weeks, from June 23 to July 5, I worked as a production assistant for Capitol Concerts Inc. as they put on their annual Independence Day celebration, “A Capitol Fourth”. The show airs on PBS and is, for the most part a concert performed on the West lawn of the capitol building. Jason Alexander (“George” from Seinfeld) was the host of the event, and is actually a marvelous singer… who knew. The other performers were Jojo – who performed the national anthem, Jo Dee Messina, Vanessa Williams and Elmo, Michael Bolton, Cuba Gooding Jr., and Stevie Wonder – who ended the show after receiving an American Achievement Award and played Superstition. Dolce, I know.
My father thought it would be good for me to take a job where I would actually be forced to “work like a man”. I agree and, in fact, think that the experience will be an asset to me for future acting roles. However, I’m sure to my parents’ collective disappointment, after the first two days, where I had been literally assisting the construction crew, putting up tents, moving crates, etc. – the production supervisor decided to keep me assigned to other chores. I am assuming it was a result of yelled remarks, jeers and one or two confrontations with the ex-convicts that mixed with the talented building crew. I will recite the least vulgar and unpleasant of them:
Three days before the show, I had been tanning at the steps of the Capitol in my bathing suit in a beach chair (it was a slow afternoon), when my walkie-talkie alerted me to the fact that the stage plants (used to hide wires, etc.) needed to be watered. It was 95` outside. I walked back down to the construction site, onto the stage and looked around for the watering cans that were supposed to have been left there. When I didn’t see them, I yelled out impatiently:
“WHERE are the watering cans?”
To which a charming tattooed man with a ponytail replied:
“I gotsa waterin’ can ferr you.”
To which I, stupidly oblivious, said:
“Cool – where is it?”
To which I was promptly informed as he grabbed his genitals:
“In my pants.”
Now, I know it might sound bazaar to pass up such a romantic proposal, but I suppose I just wasn’t in the mood. I stood there in silence with my mouth hanging open until Brian, my supervisor, who had been running across the lawn since my conversation with Bubba began, yelled out, “Jameson – I asked you to stay in or near the trailers, didn’t I? Go back to them, please – now. Thank you!”
A tired Jameson in the control bus outside the Capitol stage
I’m assuming the plants got watered somehow. In any event, the majority of my time not doing manual labor was spent tanning, using the rest rooms in the National Botanical Gardens across the street (Porta Potties are not dolce) and assisting the control bus during rehearsals, as well as the actual show. Hanging out backstage I did indeed meet Michael, Jason, Vanessa, Jo Dee and Stevie. JoJo, although our eyes met as we passed each other in the “VIP Food Tent” was simply in my way to meet Ms. Williams. It was dolce, and I am now recovering in Annapolis, eating steak and drinking wine with Papa Freeman.
