Harsh realities

So I've realized a harsh reality: Gay cinema sucks. I mean really bad. Its always about someone with AIDS, or someone wh0 gets gay bashed, or someone who becomes a circuit boy in Miami or L.A. and is fond of the nickname "K hole". Where have all the cowboys gone?

I think I should write a gay movie. Not to sound full of myself but I certainly wouldnt want people to think that we all have AIDS, Bruises, and Tara Reid's phone number.

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I have been to almost every bookstore in Manhattan looking for this fucking book. I'm going nuts. It's "The Page Turner" by David Leavitt. I first heard of it when I was watching previews on a dvd from a terrible gay movie called "200 American". (In its defense it was a no budget film.) There was a film adaptation called "Food of Love" and the movie looks really good. Compelling and well done. Plus the acting seems amazing. So I heard it was adapted from Leavitt's book and took off on a journey across Manhattan. To no avail (insert french qoute from Angel's in America).

So I've basically been on a literary witch hunt(not as fun as the real thing) and I'm almost completely burned out. Almost, I still have enough energy to order it off the internet along with the movie. Merry Christmas to me!