Gay Cowboys Eating Pudding

When Christian Tennis Guy finally showed up at my house in the South Central, we had to immediately race out again to get to the completely sold-out showing of Brokeback Mountain. The 5mph slog up La Brea to the Grove and the 15 minutes trying to make a left turn onto 3rd St reminded me why I ride my bike. The self-park lot a the Grove was completely full with cars swirling around like flies to poo. We had to valet park, which made us even later. The only two seats together were in the first row. I had trouble cocking my head back far enough to see the top of the screen.

Thankfully, Brokeback has very still cinematography, so I didn't get carsick and hurl in a popcorn bucket.

It was touching and tragic. There's so much chatter in our society, in our therapy-minded culture, that there was comfort in a movie that deals with the emotions of those that don't talk about emotions. America has lost something now that it seems to value talk over deeds.

I used to be so silent and observant, but, now I've learned to fill the silence with meaningless jokey chatter. Would teenage Spike respect the modern day Spike? Or would he think of me as a buffoon?

Christian Tennis Guy is something of an LA newbie, so we followed the movie up with some cliche spots: Mel's Drive in for food, Red Rocks for a beer, then back down the hill to north-western South Central.

He and I talked a lot about the business of dating, the process of it. Strategy and tactics. Funny how sometimes I sounded wise and sometimes I sounded so stupid.