Lately I’ve mostly been watching old sword-and-sandal movies, which I got from Amazon.com in a boxed collection of thirteen DVDs. Put out by Mill Creek Entertainment, the set is called Warriors and it’s got fifty movies--just about all the historical potboilers I’ll need from now on. Almost. There are still several titles I’d like to get my hands on in DVD form, though.

The pleasures of watching Hercules Unchained, Hercules and the Captive Women, Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon, Romulus and the Sabines, Damon and Pythias, Atlas in the Land of the Cyclops, The Giant of Marathon, Thor and the Amazon Women, Son of Samson, and Last of the Vikings are simple ones. I think these movies became so popular in the late 50s because the world was going through a lot of anxiety about everything from space travel to political witch hunts to nuclear war. People must have found even a temporary return to the more direct ways of lust, revenge, muscles, vixens, tunics, and hand-to-hand combat to be reassuring on some basic human level.

As an aficionado of cinema, I find many of these flicks so crudely written, acted, directed, and dubbed--with notable exceptions, of course--that they function mostly as surreal erotic fantasies. Their bad qualities are actually what make them good to me, because these qualities present in bolder relief impossibly sexy actresses such as Mylene Demongeot, Chelo Alonso, Sylvia Lopez, Sylva Koscina, and Helga Line. If these ladies didn’t parade through these epics, the movies would be almost unendurable. Just as I watch old Ray Harryhausen movies and plow through the dialogue scenes waiting to get to the fantastically photographed monster sequences, I sit through the meandering plotlines of the sword-and-sandal shows to get to the ladies performing their duties as cruel empresses, tantalizing slavegirls, and innocent virgins. I know it’s all make-believe, but it’s comforting and fun.

I know that a large part of my fascination with strippers stems from my early exposure to the flirtatious dancing girls of these sword-and-sandal epics. Seeing these movies at the formative age of ten and eleven profoundly affected me. I came to believe these were the archetypes of women who awaited me in adulthood...and when I found out otherwise in college (where, for example, I first heard the term “male chauvinist pig”), well, the disappointment I felt was not unlike feeling barbarian armies pillaging my psyche. I have never forgiven the metaphorically axe-wielding feminist Attilas and their bloodthirsty hordes for relegating the widespread belief in vixens, queens, and slavegirls to the intellectual garbage heap, as if it were equivalent to a belief in a flat earth. The accommodating beauties of the cinema past have been replaced by the sword-wielding, ass-kicking likes of the cinema present, like Kiera Knightley and Jennifer Garner. I know they’re admired by the feminine empowerment crew, but those actresses bore me to tears. I’d say it’s just one man’s opinion, but I’m sure it’s shared by others.

So what’s one reason why the tittie bars (or “gentlemen’s clubs”) are so successful? Because men want their vixens, queens, and slavegirls!!

As Galileo whispered under his breath when the censorious church forced him to recant his belief in the earth moving around the sun: “It still moves!”

And so do the vixens, queens, and slavegirls still move through the corridors of the modern male mind!!!

Or at least through the mind of a man called Sir Cranky...

Feeling a little under the weather today...so I'm guzzling orange juice, my old home remedy for budding colds...and on top of that, I popped 500 mg of Vitamin C...

The weather here has been so strange, overcast and cold and windy in the morning, and then the sun comes out and the mercury climbs in the afternoon...hasn't caused women to dress skimpily, though...still, I certainly don't mind the sexy boots they've been wearing everywhere...

I recall a drawing or etching I saw many years ago that was made by the painter John Sloan...he was famous for depicting the New York scene of the first half of the 20th century...in the picture, which was made in the early 1900s, a shoeshine boy is buffing the high-button shoes of an elegant young lady. I don't remember if it was a caption to the actual drawing, or a commentary on it, but I recall Sloan saying something to the effect that he envied that shoeshine boy, and was ready to trade places with him...

I knew exactly what he meant.

Sometimes I think the feeling of submissiveness I have towards women is shared by lots of men, but they just don't admit it...

There's something about beauty that brings out the awe in men. In defensive reaction, however, they sometimes act the opposite of submissive...

Women can have a terrible power over us guys. So, ladies, to paraphrase the line in liquor ads: "Dominate us responsibly!"

Anyway, that's enough for today on my sexual personality...

I have to go out in a little while and do an interview with someone for a freelance project I'm working on...I always find interviewing people to be somewhat nerve-wracking, no matter how many times I've done it...I'm not a natural interviewer but I am quite good at it...I think of it as an acting job: I'm acting as if I'm gregarious and chatty, when in reality I often feel I'd rather just stick in my nose in a book (or between a stripper's bazooms)...but in the end, we're not what we think, but what we do. Maybe I am more gregarious than I think. Certainly, I seem to be able to draw people out and get the information I need for a project at hand...

It's strange, but sometimes I get the feeling I don't even know who I really am.

Perhaps I'd be satisfied with a job shining ladies' boots, if it paid decently enough to cover all my expenses? That wouldn't surprise me at all.

I spent a lot of time on the computer today, doing my freelance work. When I was done my eyes were really tired and I felt nervous and in need of a walk and the sight of other people. I drank a half shot of Jameson and walked over to the stripclub. I had a couple of beers and said hello to all the girls while they were onstage and gave them all a buck or two. My favorite of them all, Veronica, danced only briefly and then disappeared into the dressing room. As far as I'm concerned, she's the sexiest girl in the place on the day shift, but she's the least likely to be seen in the main area. She's either in the dressing room or the champagne room. If I'm lucky she does one set onstage when I drop in.

So I said hello when she was briefly dancing. In her pretty accent, she told me how she had a quiet New Year's Eve with her family. She is the kind of dancer I would have spent hundreds of dollars on in the past, when I was somewhat in the chips. Still, she seems to understand my situation and doesn't embarrass me by coming over repeatedly and asking me for dances. Ironically, though, she's the only one in the club right now whom I would be tempted to break my vow of thriftiness for. But maybe it's better I don't get a dance from her. She seems especially vivid in my mind because of the frustration level I'm enduring.

Isn't this what adolescence was like in the 1960s? At least, mine was...hunger with not much satisfaction--at least until senior year (1968-69) and the discovery of dry-humping. Ah, I almost forgot those halcyon days! I must miss that era to want to relive it!

Yes, I think that on some level, I enjoy being teased and frustrated. Yep, I'm one for the casebooks...

On the other hand, isn't this media-saturated world designed to make us all frustrated in some way? Why else do people enjoy reading about the exploits of the rich and famous? Isn't there an element of envy in all that, and isn't envy the cousin of frustration?

The world shows us what's out there, and then says, "No, you can't have it. It's not yours. You don't have enough money...you're not attractive enough...you're not smart enough...you're not just enough! Stew in your juices, buddy boys and girls."

There. Having written those last two paragraphs, I feel normal again.

It was slow at first getting back to work today, but I managed to get stuff done.

I had to do a little writing as part of one of my freelance projects, but as soon as I sat down at my home computer, my eyelids grew heavy.

I fought to stay awake. I told myself, just write a couple of lines, Cranky...no, just write one single line. One line is all you have to write. Fortunately the line that came out was okay, and I felt motivated to do another, and then another.

Does this ever happen to you? Getting sleepy when you are resistant to doing something?

Anyway, I'm glad I was able to snap out of the sleepiness today. I think I recognized it for what it was--sadness transformed into sleepiness.

I was sad that the holiday break was over, among other things. Sad that money has been so tight...sad that my life wasn't transformed magically into perfection with the first stroke of 2007.

So the sadness became sleepiness, but I managed to will my way out of it by putting a few decent words down.

After I finished working, I took a shower. Then I got a few nice phone calls, one from my nephew in Chicago, and another from my good friend Sid who recently moved to Cleveland. We talked about all sorts of good stuff.

It's my mother's birthday today so I called her. She lives in Chicago. I sent her a gift that she really liked, so that was good.

Then I went out to the Chinese take-out to get a combo plate, and I enjoyed seeing one of the beautiful girls who work behind the counter. Yes, one in particular is really sweet on the eyes...the last time I saw her I was so dazzled I almost forgot to get my change. I was hoping she was going to take my order tonight, but one of the other girls did instead, someone not quite so dazzling. Oh well. But I did have to wait for my food for five minutes, so I was able to glance occasionally at the really beautiful one.

I'm so shallow. Maybe the beautiful one is a dangerous vixen, and the less-than-dazzling one is a selfless angel. Or maybe the beautiful one is the selfless angel, and I'm really missing out...because when it comes to beautiful twenty-year old Chinese girls, they're just nice scenery and I'm a 55 year old tourist passing through. As far as they're concerned, I might as well be wearing Bermuda shorts, a straw hat, and carrying a box camera.

Well, now that I'm done with dinner, I have some more work to do. Some research on the Web. But it's the fun kind of work, so I don't mind.

Ah, my neighbor just started frying his twice-weekly steak. I can smell it through the vent in my kitchen.

Back to work, Cranky. Concentrate.

See ya tomorrow.

After this weekend of "two Saturdays"--because that's what it felt like here in New York having New Year's Eve on a Sunday--2007 has arrived. Ironically, it almost seems like a "double Monday"--people on the streets and subways look especially depleted, let down by the end of the holiday frenzy. Then again, their weary looks could be because we have such nasty weather today.

I ended up staying home last night on New Year's Eve. I could hear the revelers hooting and hollering outside on the street, and decided it wouldn't be a crime to stay in. Being absorbed in watching a sword-and-sandal movie called Son of Samson, I didn’t even notice the stroke of midnight. In fact, the machinations of the evil queen played in the flick by the gorgeous Chelo Alonso blocked out for me even the roar of the Times Square crowds, which I can hear from my windows.

As beautiful a day as it was here yesterday, it is rainy and overcast today. I took a subway downtown to return a video and the store wasn't open the usual time, so I walked around for awhile in the misty drizzle. I found a coffee shop that was open (most places were closed) and had coffee and chocolate chip pancakes, to try to get the year off to a symbolically "sweet" start in spite of the dreary weather.

I sense this is going to be a pivotal year. I must find ways to generate more money, and I must go in positive new directions in my work. Oh, I hope I can find the wherewithal to get this accomplished! I'm not making resolutions, but just hoping to be able to feel and work my way to solid and gratifying results.

I wish everybody a healthy and successful 2007.