I stood at Columbus Circle yesterday afternoon, taking a break from the computer to enjoy the unseasonably balmy weather. But with so much on my mind lately of a stressful nature--finances in particular--when I was leaning against a stanchion in front of the Time-Warner Center, I simply zoned out and stared into space, feeling every bit of my fifty-five years. Suddenly I raised up my head and saw a young Japanese-looking gal with long blond hair walking by within a few inches, looking at me--probably because I must have had a rather existential, melancholy expression on my face. Funny; I wonder how many girls look at me when I'm not busy looking at them, and daydreaming this or that? Maybe this was the only one? She moved by too quickly for me to gather my senses and return her half-smile, but as she saucily sauntered into the distance I saw that she wore a colorful sweater tied across her hips, a sweater which plastered the logo "Juicy" across her trim blue-jean butt. I wondered what her story was...and what she looked like under those clothes.

Great news for sword-and-sandal fans! Last night I discovered to my delight that the incomparable Chelo Alonso is now on DVD in the previously hard to find GOLIATH AND THE BARBARIANS! Available on a disc from Wild East Productions, it's a fun movie and Chelo looks great in her short costumes and barbarian headgear, brandishing torches and swords and bows and arrows!

Nobody could smolder like Chelo Alonso, a fiery Cuban-Mexican dancer who settled in Italy in the 1960s. In this movie she haughtily plays a barbarian chieftain's daughter who's "tamed" (just barely) by the noble Steve Reeves, who essays the role of the woodcutter who avenges the death of his father at the hands of the barbarians, and becomes known as Goliath for his feats of great strength. The scene where Chelo first sees Steve is a classic! She's been thrown by her horse, and she's laying on the grass next to a single rose, by which symbolism director Carlo Campogalliani lets us know that Chelo's character is still a virgin! She's obviously been waiting for Mr. Right to come along, because she takes one look at Steve and his ultra-muscleman build and says, very slowly--"Who is...he?" It's sexy and hilarious at the same time, making it doubly sexy all around! But the very best aspect of the movie is that Chelo does two dances in this film, which show why she was a superstar of the Folies Bergere in Paris at the end of the 1950s. And her costumes wonderfully showcase her magnificent thighs!

The print of Goliath and the Barbarians is beautifully crisp, with the original Italian credits but dubbed into English, and letterboxed in the original Totalscope format.

Here's a peek at the box for the DVD, which comes as a double feature with another epic, the Gordon "Tarzan" Scott vehicle Goliath and the Vampires, which I haven't seen yet but look forward to. I don't work for Wild East Productions, I'm just happy to spread the news that Chelo's flick is finally out on their beautifully produced disc complete with the original trailer and a great gallery of European and American poster art as extras.

WildEastProductions

I had a busy week, and I spent today working on my skill at loafing. Just chilling out and not feeling guilty about it.

I took a walk over to my storage space, on the far West Side, since I decided last night that I really have to start bringing stuff over there again. I can't think of it as a storage space, but as an extension of my apartment. That way I'll bring over things without feeling that I'll never see them again. If I make a list, I'll be able to locate and retrieve books or magazines when I need them. It's just that I don't have the space to keep everything in my studio apartment anymore without feeling like I'm living in...well, like in a storage space, which is what my apartment is like (or rather, a combination storage space and office).

It was a beautiful day here in New York, perfect weather, warm but with a nice breeze, and it was pleasant to walk around. I realized I hadn't been to my storage space for over a year, because in the place of a gas station that used to be on one corner, there was an almost-completed new apartment building.

Everywhere in the Times Square/Hell's Kitchen neighborhood, businesses are closing up and new ones are replacing them. The rents must be astronomical now with all the development going on.

Anyway, as I said, I had a busy week. I heard from the editor acquaintance to whom I sent my recently completed novel manuscript. He didn't offer me a contract, but he liked the writing and gave me encouraging words and valuable feedback. He also gave me a contact to another person who might be interested in seeing it, so things are progressing.

The situation with my freelance work is getting shakier, though, with my chief client making more cutbacks to the schedule, meaning a loss of income to me. So I have to find additional venues for my skills to supplement my earnings from this main client. The hustle never ends, although I had the illusion of a certain placid status quo for quite awhile, and I guess that lulled me into passivity. But all I have to do is see familiar restaurants and business disappearing left and right in my neighborhood to know that life in these parts is getting more expensive and more of a struggle than ever before.

Naturally, to forget my problems, I bury myself in books and DVDs. I would bury myself in the bosoms of strippers, but money is just too damn tight right now. Instead I rely on my vivid, almost tactile memories of strippers I've known to get me over the rough patches of solitude...as I contemplate with fond zeal those enduring moments I spent with them drinking and talking, and having them writhe on my lap...

The stripper I knew who has the best "legs" (to use the Hollywood term for a movie that has financial longevity at the box office) is Angela, who quit the business three years ago. I still think back with satisfying arousal to the time we spent together. She really gave value for the lapdance dollar, and although she never pretended she was going to be my friend, she was nice enough to chat with about movies, our usual harmless topic of choice.

I can still feel the way she would sway her large natural breasts against my face, and let her long black hair fall around my head like a curtain...

Sigh! You know...

So now I browse around the Internet to see pictures of that beauty who plays Supergirl on the tv show Smallville, Laura Vandervoort, or Christina Hendricks or January Jones from AMC's Mad Men. Cheap thrills, but I do get a sense of shared horny community reading other fans' comments on the Web about these babes.

I go to Columbus Circle and hang out and girl-watch, but lately that's gotten kind of feeble. I don't know why...maybe the hottest dames are taking cabs more, rather than hoofing it.

There was a pigeon on the head of the Columbus statue this afternoon, sitting there for a very long time. I stared up at the bird because I wanted to see if and when he/she was going to fly away. No, fuck political correctness. I thought it was a he-bird all along. It was funny how just by perching on ole Chris's stone head that the pigeon really stood out to me, became an individual, almost a celebrity among pigeons. I wanted to know more about him, who he was, what his view was like from the top of the statue about sixty feet above the ground, if not more. I wondered what the spread of Central Park and the streets and the plaza in front of the Time-Warner Center looked like to my feathered friend. But he outlasted me. He just didn't fly away, and who could blame him? The vista must have been royal. So I finished the cup of coffee I was nursing, and finally gave up and went into Borders, where I saw several new books of interest, like a biography of the great Hollywood director Otto Preminger. I spent some time reading about the brothels in ancient Rome in another book, too. And I noticed that the store set up new racks in their video section, which are not quite as user-friendly in that you practically have to sit on the floor to look at the lower shelves. And they put the television DVD boxed sets behind locked glass doors. Maybe they were having a shoplifting problem? But I think people are going to buy less of those boxed sets if they can't easily hold them in their hands.

On other fronts, I see that the actress Deborah Kerr died the other day. I always liked her, and not just when she played the frustrated army wife with the hots for Burt Lancaster in 1953's From Here to Eternity. There was something about that red hair, that ladylike bearing, and that cultivated accent...those English actresses were so fine in their heyday. Not just Kerr, but Jean Simmons and Greer Garson too.

Here's something for trivia buffs to consider. In From Here to Eternity, before getting involved with Burt's character, Kerr's character was supposed to have had an affair with the character played by George Reeves, who became famous as tv's Superman that same year. Too bad they didn't shoot a scene between Reeves and Kerr! That would have been interesting as hell to us baby boomer fans of the immortal Mr. Reeves.

Well, I guess I'm rambling...but I told you I've been perfecting my skill at loafing. So maybe as I wander from topic to topic here in this post, I'm loafing still? But what the hell. It's Saturday night, right? Hope you're having a nice one.

I've been watching episodes of the AMC show Mad Men, which a friend kindly recorded for me since I am one of those throwbacks who still doesn't have cable tv. And in the penultimate episode, which I watched last night, there was an intense revelation about the lead character, advertising executive Don Draper (superbly played by Jon Hamm). It was a twist worthy of a film noir, like something from the filmography of 40s and 50s tough guy actor John Payne, perhaps; a grim, fateful twist of stolen identity. But it wasn't so much what happened, which was a little far-fetched if you stopped to think about it--just like some of the crazy twists in those old crime films--but rather the manner in which it was portrayed, with an almost surreal offhand edginess that gave it the quality of nightmare. This twist takes place in bright sunlight on a battlefield in Korea in the early 1950s. I don't want to spoil it for anyone; I just urge people to watch this great show! It's been renewed for a second season, but I want it renewed for a third too.

The program focuses on the business and personal lives of people who work at a Madison Avenue advertising agency in 1960. It has the nuances of a novel, and take it from this film buff: some of the direction is worthy of the craftsmen of Golden Age Hollywood. The angles, the gestures, not to mention the meticulous set design. And the actresses...oh me oh my! They make Cranky quake! Christina Hendricks as Joann Holloway and January Jones as Betty Draper have more charisma and sex appeal than ten Angelina Jolies. In fact, Angelina better hope that Brad doesn't tune in to AMC!

I took a trip down to JR Music World down near City Hall today, to check out their DVD selection. I just told my "insula" to stop nagging me about my budget--see my previous post, "Strippers versus INSULA!" and you'll understand what I'm referring to.

A friend told me JR was worth checking out now that the fantastic DVD section at the recently-shuttered Tower Records is long gone, and I must say JR had some good bargains. I found a five dollar copy of Sam Peckinpah's first western, 1961's The Deadly Companions, which I have been interested to see because it co-stars Steve Cochran, one of my favorite tough-guy actors.

It was nice to go far downtown for a change, too. The park next to City Hall is quite pretty, with a large fountain and lots of benches. I always like looking up at the Woolworth Building across the street too, which at the beginning of the 1900s was the tallest structure in Manhattan.

There was an exhibit of Alexander Calder's abstract metal sculptures in the park, quite a contrast to the more traditionally designed statue of Revolutionary War patriot Nathan Hale, which faces City Hall.

I took a walk around the neighborhood and found the new location for The Mysterious Bookshop too, which used to be in midtown but moved to Warren St. If you like mysteries and thrillers, this is a great place to browse. It's a much bigger store than the previous location on West 56th Street.

Still, my "insula" kicked in, and although I thumbed through a few new volumes, I didn't buy anything. I was a good boy today. Just dropped that fiver at JR on the Peckinpah.