On Sunday afternoon, I went to see yet another movie in the Gay & Lesbian Film Festival. This one was ultra hip, psychedelic, a compilation of three episodes from the British TV Series, "Metrosexuality". Although I recognized its inventiveness, the film was unbearably loud, and cluttered. My poor, addled old brain just couldn't process the barrage of images, sounds, and dialog. It's clearly a generational thing; the X-generation has been brought up on MTV, and Walkmans and they can clearly absorb multimedia better than us old folks. It didn't help that I was very tired, hot and hungry; I'm ashamed to say that I becamse a little snappy and bad-tempered with my friend Jaxon, who'd accompanied me to the movie. Keith apologizes again - I'm making a career out of it recently.

Anyway, to give the movie credit, its heart was in the right place. It was a comedy of errors about a 17 year old straight, black boy (who was, incidentally an absolute, lithe beauty) trying to get his two gay fathers back together again, amidst a diverse circle of bi, gay, straight, multiracial, polywhatever Londoners. Before the movie, one of the board members of Frameline (the organization that runs the festival) gave a little speach about how inclusive the movie was compared to "Queer as Folk". He even made reference to its inclusion of African-Americans. As Jaxon pointed out, black people in London do not actually refer to themselves as African-Americans.

But I can see his point about "Queer as Folk". Still, not every cultural artifact can make every cultural point worth making - each finds its own turf. If white, middle-class men want to make movies about white middle-class men, let them, is what I say. Only don't praise it to high heavens just because it's gay. My problem with "Queer as Folk" is that it's "Friends" masquerading as something truly groundbreaking (such as "Metrosexuality"). It's just another banal drama-cum-sitcom, too scared to let its characters be true to themselves. And it inhabits a ludicrous world that few gay men would recognize, wherein two gay men can go at it in the sheer-curtained, backlit changing room of a posh mens clothing store, and be allowed to continue as the female sales clerk watches (with an indulgent smile on her face) one silhouetted character go down on the other. This scene takes place, mind you, without any apparent awareness or irony, in the same episode where another character is being prosecuted for soliciting a cop for sex.

Meanwhile, back on Planet Earth, I spent the day onsite at one of our customer's sparkling new office buildings in San Bruno. I normally don't like these customer visits - it's long, tiring, hardwork with people you'd usually not choose as friends. You even have to lunch with them. But this group was a friendly bunch - light years different from myself, but young, and high-spirited. The four of them took me out for lunch, knowing I'm something of a health-nut, to a very greasy spoon. I was amazed what young people can eat. The petite, pretty asian girl sitting next to me devoured fish and chips, onion rings, french fries and popcorn shrimp! Meanwhile, I munched demurely on my chicken-caesar salad and fended off their questions about why I didn't have a girlfriend.

Speaking of youth, I just came back from the gym where someone told me I looked like I was 29 years old. I believe he was trying to flatter me, but I will gladly accept such flattery. In fact, I'll lap it up. Not that I believe it mind, you.