coffee-induced panic attacks

I just finished watching this kind-of-docu film about Rock Hudson. It is called Rock Hudson's Home Movies and it is a great film. Sad. Rock Hudson, if you don't already know, was the biggest shit on the Hollywood block in the 1950s and 60s, big, masculine, more than 2 meters tall, dark, handsome. Oh, and also gay as a unicorn. Getting pounded by another unicorn. 

Afternoon Delight

Rock was in the closet all his life, obviously, because no one could ever be out in the 50s, because he was famous... he was motherfucking Rock Hudson. Because fate is a bitch and has a twisted sense of irony, Rock died of AIDS-related complication in 1985, he was a little over 60 years old when he died. (Later, I can write a little rant about how much I HATE THE MOTHERFUCKING AIDS BITCH CUNT)

The movie in question (which is on Netflix Instant Play) treats his life with humor but also decency. The movie understands that the clips they are showing are funny, but the fact that Rock was made to say these lines (lines dripping with implicit homoerotic content) is fucking indecent and mean. Directors and writers casted him in movies in which the recit would question Rock's character's sexuality. Several times, he played a straight man playing a gay man to get the girl. But he was gay to begin with. Ironic? Fucking mean? In the industry, everyone knew he was gay and still gave him these "innocent" lines to perform. They still made him get married and do a different kind of performance. Being a 'bachelor' turns suspicious after you turn 32, Rock

Knowing little grin.

And then, and then and now I think about all the actors that we know and love now, and how many of them are still made to be in the closet. I refuse to admit that in Hollywood, there is not ONE A List actor who is gay. Bulllllshit. But they are married, or otherwise don't say anything about their sexuality. Kevin Spacey is one of those, if you consider him A List. It makes me so fucking upset! Really, guys? Do you think you couldn't land a straight role if people knew for certain that you're gay. I mean, probably, yes, but that's fucked up. I bet there's Rock Hudsons out there, suffering. It blows. 

Got that right, Gervais. (also, fun fact, when google image searching "fuck hollywood", I saw a lot of dongs and vajayjays)

I mean there's rumors about John Travolta and Tom Cruise and, while I believe them, and I am frustrated that they won't come out, I understand. I'm really sad about living in a world where this happens. 

who are you kidding, my man?

In other news, this week was weird: I had two panic attacks, probably caused by drinking too much coffee, but it freaked me out. I hadn't had full on panic attacks for many years, and now they start up again. It obviously has to do with me leaving the country and my friends and everyone I know. And it's not like I'm going somewhere horrible, Jesus. Why do I feel this way then? My problem is that I get too attached to people and then I have to leave. I guess it's good, makes me a good friend, but it hurts so much. No one else seems to be getting this upset about leaving or... well, actually, leaving me. Behind. That is what I feel. Irrational? Probsies! 

But at least I watched awesome movies and TV (Born in Flames, The Hunger, Working Girls, Angel, A Bit of Fry and Laurie) and read awesome books (American Vampire, Interview with a Vampire) and articles (some Pessoa bits [of which I will write more in depth laterz], Laura Mulvey's various essays, and much on queer film theory, which was HILARIOUS because the scholar writing these [mostly gay themselves] would describe themselves as midle-class white queens with ridiculous tastes in movies). 

Thank god Stephen is out and proud. 

Oh and we also watched The Mummy and painted our nails Friday night instead of going out. 

They fucking SPARKLE!


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