I felt very lazy today again, but fortunately I'm taking the rest of the holiday week off. I indulged one of my truly rare pleasures--making an early afternoon (as opposed to an early evening) visit to my favorite stripclub, to sit in the comparative emptiness with only a few other customers, and where only one girl dances onstage at a time, and the beers are two-for-one until four p.m.

Continuing heroically in my no-lapdance mode, I managed to spend only twenty eight dollars including my two beers and tips to the waitress and all the dancers.

Although it is frustrating not to get a little physical contact, and my unwillingness to spend money makes me feel a bit uptight in the brief conversations I do have with the girls (knowing that "Do you want a dance?" is inevitable in any such chit-chat), I have managed to turn the tittie bar into my own version of an old-time strip show, insofar as that is possible. I simply watch the dancers do their three-song sets, and now that I am not overly focusing on one girl (despite my weakness for a gal named Veronica), I am appreciating a wider variety of ladies and their charms.

The closest I came to having a dance was when one dancer told me about how she had cooked an elaborate Italian meal over Christmas. The homey image of her in the kitchen when she wasn't dancing in a g-string on the club stage made her seem especially inviting to me, as if taking a dance with her would be making a connection with her warm and nurturing hearth. But I abstained.

Afterward I stopped at the Chinese take-out restaurant where I was so struck by the beauty of one of the cashiers that after I got my receipt, I forgot that she owed me change. When I turned back, she was smiling at me and holding out the coins, and I could see in that particular smile the universal glow of amusement and pride that crosses a woman's face when she realizes she has just befuddled a man with her looks. She still had the smile when I came over five minutes later to get my food, because I was still clearly dazzled by her pretty face.

As I ate my beef with snowpeas I watched one of my favorite sword-and-sandal movies, The Giant of Marathon from 1959. I saw this movie in the theater when I was eight years old, and watching it now I can only marvel at how its many splendid sights must have completely done a number on my impressionable head. Directed by Jacques Tourneur, who made one of the greatest of films noir, Out of the Past, it was also photographed by Mario Bava, whose had the most splendid way with color, light, and shadow. The Giant of Marathon's basic plot revolves around the battle between the Greeks and Persians over two thousand years ago, but what makes the movie really stand out for me are its memorably directed love scenes between hero Steve Reeves and French actress Mylene Demongeot. Miss Demongeot in her youth bore a resemblance to the Britney Spears of today, but with a more exquisite pout to her lips (and far more acting talent; she is still making movies today at age 70). It seemed clear to me as I watched the DVD that director Tourneur and cinematographer Bava had a field day photographing Mylene, as the film is filled with the most sensuous closeups of her face.

There are many other good things in The Giant of Marathon, including an exciting underwater battle scene that I loved as a kid and which stands up pretty well today. Also inspiring is its depiction of physical prowess nobly employed in the service of patriotism: Steve Reeves' character is the winner of the ancient Olympic games, and he later runs a great distance--the first "marathon" so to speak--from Athens to neighboring Sparta to spread the news about the Persian invasion of Greece. But I know I've kept watching this movie in recent years largely because of the hypnotic allure of Mylene Demongeot.

For your interest, I've included a link below to a picture of her in the movie, which I found on a French site devoted to the history of sword-and-sandal movies. You can find The Giant of Marathon either in the 13 disc, 50 movie set Warriors from Mill Creek Entertainment (available on Amazon), or in a single DVD from www.oldies.com.

MyleneDemongeot

It’s been a very pleasant Christmas/Hanukkah holiday for me. I stayed in New York this weekend, just went about things in a leisurely fashion, and after having a couple of good meals and movies with friends and sleeping later than usual, I seem to have come out of the fog of several preceding days of stress and moodiness and gloom. Lots of red wine, hearing a beautiful original Christmas song sung by a friend of mine, spaghetti puttanesca, smoked salmon, artichoke dip, a chocolate frosted Christmas cake. All the elements. A man could get used to this sort of life on a daily basis...

The gifts I sent to my sisters and mother in Chicago and Arizona scored a big hit.

I just feel so lazy tonight, and I don’t relish the effort of putting too many words together, so I’ll just sign off until tomorrow...

I hope you’ve had a nice day too.

When I was at a bookstore a little while ago, getting a couple of more gifts, I saw the most beautiful cashier. She was a tall, slender, light-skinned black girl with a little sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks, about twenty or twenty-one, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was waiting on another customer, but it was hard to take my eyes off her. She had a certain kind of face that I love.

Many years ago when I was dabbling in art and drawing, I studied a book about the proportions of the face. According to this volume, which made a big impression on me, there are faces that really capture our affection because they have specific proportions that have been found pleasing to humans throughout the ages. Often (but not always) when I see a face that really strikes me as overwhelmingly beautiful, it seems to have these proportions, exemplified by a certain balance between the size and shape of the eyes, nose, mouth, chin, and forehead. This is not to say that people whose faces lack these proportions cannot be beautiful; it’s just that these certain proportions strike me, Sir Cranky, as the most beautiful, and I apparently am not alone in feeling this. Although I do wonder now if reading that book did not influence my thinking about what is truly beautiful...I have always been a rather impressionable fellow. On the other hand, perhaps it only confirmed what I already felt?

On yet another hand, I sometimes think my concept of beauty is based on the Playboy Playmates of the 1960s...whose faces, more often that not, had these proportions. On yet one more hand, as a boy I developed crushes on female classmates with faces like this, long before I ever studied Playboy at length...

The Japanese girl I saw on the subway a couple of nights ago had a similar face...

Ah, the sweet unsolvable mysteries of my little life. Why am I the way I am?

Anyway, whether I’ve been inspired by Hugh Hefner or it’s just a personal preference, this type of face is a magical thing to me, whether seen on the street or a bookstore or a classic Hollywood movie or great art or 50s pinups or advertising. It suggests to me that there is a possibility for order and balance in the world. It is a nice kind of face to see on Christmas Eve. And I’m sure you all have your own types of faces that please you, and make you feel at one with the world. Everyone needs to see those faces.

Merry Christmas to everyone.

Another balmy late December day in New York...I would say “strange weather,” except that the weather has been like this a lot in recent years, so it’s not strange at all anymore. The temperature felt about sixty degrees as I walked around the East Village looking for one more gift.

Alas, there is no end to the DVDs a man could buy when he is out looking for a gift for a friend...

I had to mightily restrain myself, and only bought myself a couple of inexpensive items. One was a budget disc of Suddenly, the 1954 film noir starring Frank Sinatra and Nancy Gates, and the other was a double feature disc of Imitation of Life, with the 1934 version starring Claudette Colbert and the 1959 remake starring Lana Turner. I’d been wanting it for awhile, because I’ve never seen the Colbert version. The Turner version is a 50s melodrama par excellence, a real tearjerker which I’ve seen a couple of times. It deals with the issues of ambitious women, self-sacrificing mothers and rebellious daughters, and racial divisiveness. One of the characters is a black girl who attempts to pass for white, ultimately to her overwhelming pain. I’ve heard the Colbert version is even more intense than the Turner. I like seeing the original and the remake of a story, so I can observe the differences in script and directorial approaches.

As far as Suddenly is concerned, I bought it because I want to see Nancy Gates. She’s one of those 50s actresses who combined a voluptuous sexiness with a maternal quality, and I thought it would be fun to check her out again in the movie after many years. Sterling Hayden, another of my favorite tough guy actors, also stars.

As I sit here typing now, sipping a shot of Emmet's Classic Cream, an Irish liqueur (I don't usually drink when I write, but what the hell, it's holidaytime)...the sky is growing darker and less light is coming through my window blinds. It's quiet on the asphalt, too. Although there are areas of the city that are quite crowded with last minute shopping, it does seem a bit quieter in other parts as people settle in for Christmas.

I’m debating whether I should go out to a stripclub tonight for a beer and some ogling. If I run into Lily, my favorite dancer this time last year, I may end up feeling kind of blue. I won’t want to spend a lot of money on her, and it’ll call to mind that feeling of inadequacy I have about this year’s financial squeeze. Maybe I should just stay home instead and watch another sword-and-sandal movie, and ogle the evil queens and seductive dancing girls as they tempt and trap some muscle-bound hero...

Temptresses in the flesh, or on the tube? Decisions, decisions...

Is this the life of a trivial man, or what?

Anyway, I think it's time for another shot of Emmet's Classic Cream...at $18.00 for a large bottle, it sure lasts me longer and a small shot has more of a punch that those $4.00 cafe mochas I was splurging on from Starbucks until I came to my senses.

Another day that just seemed to go by in the blink of an eye...

I didn't even go online earlier today, as I finished up my work yesterday so I could take off for the holidays...

Although I just realized there were a couple of emails I meant to answer...darn! Nothing urgent, though. They can wait...

With email, everybody is his or her own secretary now.

I wonder what it was like to live in the days of, "Take a letter, Miss Andrews."

Like in the world you see in the old Esquire and Playboy cartoons, with the horny bosses and the comely stenographers in seamed stockings...

I suppose it was really just a sexist myth...

Some would say humor like that put a gloss on what is now considered sexual harassment...

Others would say it was just a ribald form of commentary on the eternal battle of the sexes.

Whatever it was, it made for some funny cartoons...

I felt kind of blue this afternoon. I had coffee with a friend around three o'clock, but afterward she called me this evening to make sure I was okay. That was nice of her. I was down in the dumps, all right...but I feel better now.

I think I'm just in need of a few days of leisure.

I had some Chinese food for dinner, watched a sword-and-sandal movie on DVD, and stopped into the stripclub to watch the show. Because I'm refraining from lapdances now, and not focusing on one particular dancer as my favorite (my quaint form of bachelor monogamy), I'm beginning to appreciate more of the girls as they simply work the stage.

They've still been friendly to me, because I tip everybody a buck or two. Without the expense of lapdancing, my visits are affordable even with my recent financial belt-tightening.

That girl I mentioned a few entries ago, Veronica, danced twice this evening. Usually I only get to see her onstage once.

It's true that topless dancing can be just walking back and forth and swaying on a pole, but when it's done gracefully it's a pleasure to watch.

Veronica does it gracefully, and when I came up to the stage to tip her, I noticed her flowery-fruity perfume was pretty nice too. She kissed and hugged me and wished me a Merry Christmas.

With the money I saved from not getting dances, I can stop in again tomorrow if I wish.

This new system seems to be working out okay for me. I do miss the close contact from lapdancing, but my eyes are compensating by being more observant.

The club was certainly busy tonight, busier than I'd seen it in awhile.

Guys getting in their thrills before a weekend with the folks...that's the way it always is a day or two before Christmas!