The Social Media Paradox

 I’m burned-out on social media.

On the one hand, I feel like it’s nothing more than a vehicle for people’s pathetic need for attention, but at the same time I feel obligated to participate in it and am often guilty of the same things I criticize other people for doing. I’ve always maintained that “normal people” (i.e., the majority of people who aren’t in the creative professions and therefore don’t need to promote their work) don’t need to be on Facebook, except maybe to share photos with their family and friends. But in today’s society, where everyone is considered a “brand,” such thinking is probably naïve.

Add to that the fact that, like every other grass roots movement, it’s been taken over by big corporations, and you can probably sympathize with my point of view.

I find that most social media posts fall into one of two categories: bragging/promotion (either for one’s self or one’s political ideas) or the casual cruelty of making fun of other people.

I stopped posting my political beliefs some time ago, because I found that I was either preaching to the choir or preaching to people who didn’t care. Either way, I wasn’t going to change anyone’s opinion, so the only purpose it could have served was to show how noble, caring, or sensitive I was and my expectation to be “liked” accordingly.

Even when I share an article that I think someone might be interested in—without any personal agenda—people don’t click on it. It’s like you literally can’t ask people for a minute of their time anymore, so why bother?

The most famous example of my inability to accomplish anything using social media was my recent unsuccessful campaign to get long-term unemployment benefits extended. (OK, maybe some of that was the fault of our do-nothing Congress, which has passed fewer bills than any Congress in history, but I digress.) Despite posting over 5,000 tweets and making numerous media appearances, absolutely nothing happened. Long-term unemployment benefits weren’t extended, Congress continued to take endless vacations and not pass any bills, and our economy continued to deteriorate.

Nowadays when I look at Facebook or Twitter, it seems to be nothing but paid advertising, interspersed with the usual cute pictures of babies, kittens and/or puppies, vacation photos from people I rarely (or never) see in real life and, in general, things designed to arouse jealousy in the person looking at them.

I have almost 1,000 “friends” on Facebook, and yet for some reason it’s always the same ten people who show up in my news feed.

Some people I know have chosen to “opt out” of social media, either for a designated period of time or permanently. Those who do so permanently are still regarded by our society as “freaks,” but perhaps the tide may be turning.

Especially in light of recent articles about online bullying, is it surprising that Robin Williams’s daughter, to take but one example, chose to cancel her Twitter account?

Ultimately, the Internet is a reflection of us, but it often seems like it only reflects the worst aspects of human nature: our pettiness, our jealousy, and our tendency to reduce things to the lowest common denominator.

I recently spent an entire weekend carefully scripting and shooting a take-off of the Woody Allen movie Interiors. Even though it was barely over a minute long, I spent hours agonizing over the shots and dialogue, and I couldn’t wait to show it to my friends when I visited my boyfriend at the bar where he works. When I got there, one of the other employees was just as excited to show me a video on his cell phone: of someone bouncing off a fat woman’s stomach.

The latest tempest in a teapot has been the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, a well-intentioned idea that has received more attention than the current wars in the Middle East or Ukraine and has deteriorated into the usual controversy. Some people see it as a harmless way to raise money for ALS, others see it as the latest example of people’s seemingly endless need for attention. Just today I read (on Facebook, I’ll admit it) that somebody died allegedly filming his own Ice Bucket Challenge.

Is our need for attention so great that we’re willing to die for it?

Or, to put it another way, if an ice bucket falls in the forest and nobody hears it, did it really fall?

Fire Island: You Can’t Go Home Again (Or Can You?)

The Belvedere

It’s been eight years since I was last on Fire Island and it seems to be experiencing a simultaneous renaissance and decline.

The Belvedere, the wedding cake of a hotel where I usually stay, has a fresh coat of paint and eye-popping new carpeting but, a block away, a showcase house near the beach seems abandoned and in need of serious maintenance.

The Ice Palace has gone upscale with video displays and a new dj booth, and there’s a newly rebuilt Pavilion (which was destroyed in a recent fire) in the Pines. But The Tides (formerly the Bay Leaf) sits empty, as does Sunsets on the Bay.

Promoter Daniel Naridicio has made headlines by bringing big-name entertainers such as Liza Minelli and Carol Channing to the Ice Palace on the weekend but, during the week, crowds empty out of the bar as soon as the show is over.

What is the message to be drawn here?

It’s ironic that the growing acceptance of gay people in society at large has caused the simultaneous decline of once exclusively gay places such as Fire Island and gay neighborhoods such as the West Village and Chelsea. The feeling now is that gay people don’t need those places anymore, but I would argue that they need them now more than ever, especially in a world where everything is increasingly homogenized.

I’ve heard reports during my most recent trip to Fire Island that the local police have been handing out tickets to people caught having sex in the infamous “meat rack” between the Pines and Cherry Grove. What could possibly be the motive for this? Are they attempting to make these communities “family friendly,” much the way the Giuliani administration did with Times Square in New York City? Isn’t it enough that there are already “family friendly” communities on Fire Island, such as Ocean Beach?

Some would argue (especially those older than I) that Fire Island peaked in the ’70s, before AIDS decimated an entire generation of gay men.

Being alive these days is like counting the rings inside a tree. You know how old someone is by how many places they can name that used to be something else. Before the Tides was the Bay Leaf, it was the Monster. (And before that, those older than I will recall, the Sandpiper.)

The restaurant that sits in the center of town in Cherry Grove used to be Michael’s before it burned down.

That other restaurant near the ocean used to be Rachel’s.

The new Pavilion

Who among the twenty-somethings now spending their first summer on Fire Island remembers (or cares) what the old Pavilion looked like?

This kind of change happens all the time in New York City but, for some reason, I find it more jarring on Fire Island.

I was devastated to learn that the first room I stayed in at the Belvedere (the Seasons) was recently cut in half to make room for a fire escape. Or that the pool was moved (and seems smaller).

Walking down the beach, I saw one house in the Pines that had its deck destroyed (probably in a recent hurricane) and another that had all the sand washed out from beneath its foundation.

On the other hand, I’m happy to report that my worst fears have not been realized and the Belvedere has not been turned into a Marriott (and it’s still, thankfully, all-male).

Fire Island will always have its natural beauty (I hope), but there are other things that may be even more fragile and cannot be replaced.

I will always remember my first time staying at the Belvedere. I was returning to the hotel at the end of a sensually overstimulating couple of days and, after climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor, noticed that the door to the room next to mine was slightly ajar and there was a full moon shining through the window.

Let’s just say that the vision shining through that window wasn’t the only full moon I saw that night.

America: A Good Idea Gone Bad

 I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m so apathetic about the Fourth of July fireworks. When the cashier at my local newsstand asked me if I was going to see the fireworks yesterday, I was like, “Nah, you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all.” (The crowds of tourists taking over my city doesn’t help, either.)

While that may be true, it dawned on me this morning that there may be some deeper reason why I don’t feel like taking party in this annual orgy of national celebration and chest-thumping: I’m embarrassed to be American.

Well, not exactly.

The truth is, I’m very proud to be American, if by American you mean the ideals set forth by our founding fathers, namely that this is a land of opportunity where all men (and women) are created equally. But lately it seems as if we’ve become a perversion of who we say we are and more people are coming to the realization that the system is rigged against us.

Once again, I’m looking at the very real possibility of being out of work, right after I spent nine painstaking months to find the job I currently have. Despite this week’s jobs report crowing about the best job numbers in years, the reality is that wages are stagnant and the number of people who have been unemployed for over six months is higher than it’s ever been.

This year, the Fourth of July fell against a backdrop of images of immigrant children showing up at our doorstep in huge numbers and being met by an equally large number of Americans (ironically, children of immigrants themselves) forming a human wall to keep them out. They might as well have been armed with pitchforks and torches, so ugly was this picture.

I admit, I’m at a loss for how to deal with this new wave of children arriving in our country. At the least, it strikes me as very irresponsible of their parents to send them on such a dangerous journey without an adult. (If I was a parent, I wouldn’t send my child unaccompanied to the corner deli for a quart of milk, let alone across several national borders! Remember Etan Patz?) On the other hand, the level of violence and lack of opportunity in their own country must be staggering for any parent to even consider this as a viable option.

But I digress.

On a whole host of issues, from abortion to gun control, it seems like the reality of our country is out of synch with its stated ideals. We pride ourselves on having individual choice and yet it’s become harder than ever for a woman to choose what to do with her own body. (And, even more frustratingly, those decisions are being made, primarily, by men.) We say that we’re a country that places the health and safety of our citizens above all else, and yet many of us don’t have access to healthcare, are affected by gun violence, or have to worry about the safety of our food and drinking water.

So, on this Fourth of July, I would urge every American to remember the country we say we are and work harder to make sure our government not only talks the talk, but walks the walk.

Happy Fourth, everyone!

Hedwig: Every “Inch” a Modern Major Musical

 At this point, there have been at least three incarnations of Hedwig and the Angry Inch: the original off-Broadway production starring Hedwig creator John Cameron Mitchell, the film version (again starring Mr. Mitchell), and now, an honest-to-God, big-budget Broadway production starring TV star, movie star, and ubiquitous host of the Tony Awards, Neil Patrick Harris. What’s remarkable about this show is that it has endured over the past 20 years and its trajectory mirrors that of not only the scrappy protagonist, but of the entire gay rights movement itself. Who could have imagined, 20 years ago, that gays would not only have the right to marry but would become so mainstream that they’re a running joke on both the Tony Awards and the Oscars? Equally astonishing is the fact that a show about a transsexual is now on Broadway, playing alongside not just one but two shows about transvestites (Kinky Boots, Casa Valentina), as well as the usual assortment of gay-themed shows (Mothers and Sons).  Part of the credit may go to the gay rights movement, but the other part belongs to the rock-solid credentials of this show.

In a sea of jukebox musicals (Beautiful, Jersey Girls, Midnight Blue) and original musicals that close overnight (Bridges of Madison County), this is that rarest of creatures: an original Broadway musical with staying power. When was the last time you walked out of an original musical and the songs were truly hummable? I don’t want to take anything away from Mr. Mitchell’s clever book, with its Borscht belt humor (and I mean that as the highest compliment), but I don’t think enough credit has been given to Stephen Trask’s phenomenal, Bowie-inspired score. It now has to rank among the great works of American musical theater, alongside Rodgers and Hammerstein and Stephen Sondheim.

Hedwig, in its stage version, is essentially a one-man/woman show, so it’s critical to find an actor with both the musical chops and the comic timing to pull it off. Needless to say, they’ve found that person in Neil Patrick Harris. Harris has proven his musical theater abilities in the recent concert staging of Company, as well as his recent Tony-hosting duties. He’s so effortlessly self-assured in this performance, it’s breathtaking! The one-hour-and-40-minute, intermissionless show breezes by with the immediacy of a rock concert.

There’s only one minor criticism I can think of: Some of the seats on the side of the orchestra (I had one such seat) have a partially obstructed view of the stage. Other than that, it’s hard to find fault with this production. It now takes its place in the musical theater canon as the very model of a modern major musical.

Why Louie is the Best Drama on TV

 Some people may have been surprised when Louis CK was nominated for multiple Emmy Awards for his television series, Louie, last year. After all, he’s “just a comedian.” What does he know about acting, writing and directing (not to mention editing)?

I wasn’t. My only quibble was that he was nominated in the wrong category. He should have been nominated in the drama category.

Each episode of Louie unfolds like a miniature Woody Allen movie, from its beautifully-photographed New York locations to its jazz score. And it appears that Mr. CK has learned a lot from The Master and may even be his rightful heir, even though he works primarily in television.

Louis CK has been rightly praised for his willingness to take chances, whether it’s because he allows his scenes to go on “too long,” because he frequently places his characters in extremely uncomfortable situations, or because the episodes of his show sometimes seem to end abruptly, without tying up all the loose ends.

For me, one of the most amazing things about his show is the plotting. It’s like watching that improvisational exercise “Yes, but…,” only in this case it should be called “What if?” What if Louie bombed at a benefit in the Hamptons but wound up going home with a beautiful model who was in the audience? What if one of Louie’s neighbors got stuck in an elevator and asked him to get her medication from her apartment but, when he did, he found her niece sleeping on the couch? You truly never know where the plot is going to go when you watch Louie, and that’s what makes it great.

Another thing I love about this show is the way it routinely breaks into the absurd, such as when Louie is awakened by noisy garbage men in one episode and they literally break into his apartment, jumping up and down on his bed while continuing to bang their garbage cans. Or the Time Warner Cable-like message he listens to, which drones on about how awful their service is.

Curiously, Louis CK is the kind of comedian who doesn’t necessarily make me laugh all the time, but I enjoy listening to him because he’s interesting. Oftentimes, I find his stand-up segments to be the weakest part of the show. (I’m sure I’ve just destroyed my comedy career by saying that!) There are more laughs per minute in the more cleverly written Silicon Valley than there are on Louie. But that’s not why I watch it.

I watch it because Louie delves as deeply into the human condition as any episode of Breaking Bad. Like this week’s episode, where an overweight woman talks for an uncomfortably long time about how hard it is for fat women to meet men, while at the same time underscoring how easy it is for a similarly overweight man like Louie to meet women. Or the episode where he breaks up with a girlfriend at a diner: another uncomfortably long conversation. One of the other great things about Louis CK is the way he’s able to put himself in the place of other characters, particularly women.

So the next time the Emmy Awards roll around, I expect Louie to be recognize for what it is: the best drama on TV.

TV Scorecard

Since almost every network has now decided to schedule all its best programs on Sunday night, I’ve had to become ruthless in my choice of what shows I decide to watch. If I don’t like it after two episodes, you’re out! After all, I’d gotten to the point where I was recording so many shows on my DVR, it had steam coming out of it! Plus, I recently signed up for a free month on Netflix. I’m so backed up on my TV viewing, I need a bottle of Kaopectate!

So let’s get to work, shall we?

Weeks of anticipation have been building (for some people) for the premiere of Game of Thrones. I myself had never watched it previously, so I was curious to see what all the fuss was about. I was quickly reminded of why there are entire genres of entertainment I don’t watch.

In short, Game of Thrones has every fantasy cliché imaginable: dragons coexisting with humans, made-up languages and, of course, an English cast. (Americans will buy anything if you say it with an English accent.) Somehow, Peter Dinklage manages to steal every scene he’s in. It’s as if there’s a little twinkle in his eye that says he knows how ridiculous this show is (or maybe it’s just my imagination, having seen his comedic performance in the movie The Baxter). Nevertheless, after two episodes, I still didn’t know what the hell was going on (I guess you have to have watched it from the beginning) and even the promise of male frontal nudity (cf. South Park) was not enough to keep my attention. Game Dethroned.

Similarly, I had heard a lot about Veep and I’ve always loved Julia Louis-Dreyfus on Seinfeld (and even in her recent movie, Enough Said), so I had high hopes for this one, too, even though the commercials made it sound like the characters were just saying things for shock value. (Those characters would never say those things in real life, at least not in public.) Unfortunately, when I watch Veep, I feel like I’m attending a long status meeting at work. The characters are constantly talking at each other but not really relating to each other and, consequently, I don’t feel anything. Furthermore, none of the characters is remotely likeable, and I really don’t want to see Julia Louis-Dreyfus playing a jerk.

At first I thought I didn’t like Veep because Washington and politics are essentially boring. But so is Silicon Valley, so why does Silicon Valley work while Veep doesn’t? The answer is because Silicon Valley is funny. I don’t think I laughed once during either episode of Veep.

Sure, all the characters are socially inept to the point that they seem autistic, but that’s probably how they are in real life, too. They also all speak in that annoying “upspeak” common to millennials but, again, that’s probably true to life as well.

Another early casualty of Sunday night was Mr. Selfridge (no Downton Abbey, that!). I just don’t like Jeremy Piven. Maybe it’s that whole Speed the Plow/sushi scandal. He’s like a black hole in the middle of Mr. Selfridge. Or maybe it’s because I just don’t want to see an American actor in an English show. Unless it’s Peter Dinklage.

One consequence of all the quality programming available Sunday night is that I’ve had to re-examine what I watch on other nights as well. I’m embarrassed to say that I used to watch a lot of shows on Bravo but, lately, it’s been banished from my viewing schedule. One guilty pleasure that might hang on, however, is Million Dollar Listing New York. Like every New Yorker, I’m obsessed with real estate, so this show, while ostensibly a reality show, functions on several levels. Of course what really makes this show (or any reality TV show) work is the casting. Why hasn’t SNL done a parody of this show? Luis, with his towering pompadour that makes him look like an ice cream cone, his obsequious smile and his inappropriate sexual humor; Fredrik, with his cartoon-like exclamation of “Zing!” every time he makes a sale and his Scandinavian aloofness; Ryan, with his smug self-assurance made tolerable only by his occasional self-deprecation. I can easily see Taran Killam playing all of those roles with relish.

Another show (on TV Land) that’s currently on life support (no pun) is Hot in Cleveland. I like a good three-camera sitcom as much as the next guy (OK, maybe more than the next guy) and it can be good when it’s well written but, more often than not, it’s a waste of talent.

Let’s hope that Mad Men (on AMC) picks up the slack.

Desensitized Nation

As I sat down last night to watch the premiere episode of Game of Thrones (a series characterized by casual sex and violence. Hey, I had to see what all the fuss was about), I paused to wonder, Why has TV become the dominant art form of our time, as opposed to say, movies or theater? Is it because we can watch TV in the privacy of our own homes (or on our laptops or cell phones) as opposed to having to go to a theater and having to deal with, you know, people?

Then I realized: We’ve constructed an entire society designed to deal with people at arms’ length.

Think about it: email, cell phones, the Internet, blogging, online dating, online pornography: all designed to keep people at arms’ length, all designed to turn people into things that can be “managed.”

But it goes further than that.

Look at what’s happening in the world today as we happily gorge ourselves on “must see TV,” as we brag about consuming entire series in an evening: Global warming, genocide, gun violence spinning out of control, the Supreme Court usurping our rights as individuals. All this is taking place right under our noses and what do we talk about? What’s on the evening news and in our newspapers and magazines? Kim Kardashian and Honey Boo Boo.

This desensitization has filtered down into our daily lives and we accept it as normal.

I think about my current job search, for example. I recently had an interview where the interviewer promised to call me back “either way” (meaning whether or not I got hired), and I remember being shocked to hear him say that, because nowadays businesses usually don’t bother to call you back at all. (Needless to say, he never called.)

I had another company ask me for a phone interview and never call me back to set up a date and time. Who does that? (Answer: More people than you’d expect.)

And I don’t even want to talk about the hundreds of resumes I’ve sent out or the dozens of requests for job leads or information I’ve made that never get any response whatsoever.

Now I know it might seem silly to compare people being unprofessional to genocide, but the point is, we’ve come to accept both situations as normal.

People crossing the street against traffic yakking away on their cell phones and then looking at the drivers honking their horns at them as if they’re crazy: normal. Dozens of buff, muscular guys working out in a gym together, staring at themselves in the mirror but barely interacting with each other: normal. A subway car full of people, each seemingly mesmerized by his own cell phone/iPad/laptop: normal.

It seems to me that we’ve become experts at “managing” people on screens (TV, computer, cell phone) but a complete failure at dealing with them in real life.