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Milk!

dande01

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I just watched the movie "MILK". I thought it was a great movie and Sean Penn did a great job, now I know why Sean Penn won an academy award...he played the role perfectly.

For any gay man or boy...this is a must see movie!!! Let me know your views about this movie, what did you think??
 
I just watched the movie "MILK". I thought it was a great movie and Sean Penn did a great job, now I know why Sean Penn won an academy award...he played the role perfectly.

For any gay man or boy...this is a must see movie!!! Let me know your views about this movie, what did you think??

The acting was passionate..... I loved it. James Franco was looking quite dreamy as well... the 70's suits him.

Moreover, It was great to look back and see how far we've come and how we got here. We ride on the shoulders of men and women like Harvey Milk.

I just wish that it didn't seem like to have a successful mainstream movie about gays that someone (gay) has to die in the end! I realize Milk is a historical piece but I hope you guys get my drift.

Thanks David for the opportunity to speak out.....

Yours,

Jayce
 
I cannot yet bring myself to go see this remarkable film. I know I will cry, again. It was two days short of my 24th birthday and I was living in the City. Harvey Milk was my god; out, confident, proud, caring, he was everything I wanted to be. I had decided to come out to my instructors at the seminary, St. Patrick's, knowing I would be asked to leave, but also knowing I had to be true to myself. Harvey was out, Harvey was brave, and I wanted to be the same. Then Dan White changed all that. Within two hours, I was sitting in the park in front of City Hall, waiting for the candlelight procession that had been hastily put together. I simply could not hold back the tears. No sobbing, just tears from pain, anger, pure hatred welling up in my heart. The total destruction of two men, their hopes, their promise and their futures. I remember Supervisor Feinstein coming out to make the official announcement, her voice cracking, the look of pain in her eyes, begging us to remain calm.

It's been over thirty years now, and I still can't forgive him. I love the City, I always have since I was a young child with family living there. But the scar created that day will never completely fade. And maybe it shouldn't. Maybe by remembering, a lesson of tolerance and compassion can be learned, but what a horrid price to pay.
 
I cannot yet bring myself to go see this remarkable film. I know I will cry, again. It was two days short of my 24th birthday and I was living in the City. Harvey Milk was my god; out, confident, proud, caring, he was everything I wanted to be. I had decided to come out to my instructors at the seminary, St. Patrick's, knowing I would be asked to leave, but also knowing I had to be true to myself. Harvey was out, Harvey was brave, and I wanted to be the same. Then Dan White changed all that. Within two hours, I was sitting in the park in front of City Hall, waiting for the candlelight procession that had been hastily put together. I simply could not hold back the tears. No sobbing, just tears from pain, anger, pure hatred welling up in my heart. The total destruction of two men, their hopes, their promise and their futures. I remember Supervisor Feinstein coming out to make the official announcement, her voice cracking, the look of pain in her eyes, begging us to remain calm.

It's been over thirty years now, and I still can't forgive him. I love the City, I always have since I was a young child with family living there. But the scar created that day will never completely fade. And maybe it shouldn't. Maybe by remembering, a lesson of tolerance and compassion can be learned, but what a horrid price to pay.

I was living in New York and only a young kid at the time, I do remember some of the issue's but as a kid I was more involved with bike riding and playing with my friends. I really didn't know the political issue of the time. When I read your post I am tearing up to the fact you were actually there. Although I was child, the movie was filmed very well and what I understand and seeing many interviews from Cleve, this movie was very realistic. I did cry from watching the moving and I think its more of an educational movie that all gay men should watch...young & old. I'm honored that you were there and you can speak from experience.

What was it like in the Castro back then?? MarkyMark, your insight to this will open the doors of knowledge too all the younger gay men on the forum that take the gay life for granted (as I do at times)...we must know and keep this knowledge fresh in our minds so we can better our lives today.

-David
 
I have not yet had the opportunity to see the film, but from what I have seen in previews on the t.v. for it, I would very much like to see it. From what I have read here, it is a very moving piece and one I think would stick with us.
Gary
 
I just watched the movie "MILK". I thought it was a great movie and Sean Penn did a great job, now I know why Sean Penn won an academy award...he played the role perfectly.

For any gay man or boy...this is a must see movie!!! Let me know your views about this movie, what did you think??

It is on my list of things to do this year. (See a live Broke Straight Boys event at Club Z in April, "Altar Boys" and "Milk". Also Graduate and get to Palma) LOL
 
I was living in New York and only a young kid at the time, I do remember some of the issue's but as a kid I was more involved with bike riding and playing with my friends. I really didn't know the political issue of the time. When I read your post I am tearing up to the fact you were actually there. Although I was child, the movie was filmed very well and what I understand and seeing many interviews from Cleve, this movie was very realistic. I did cry from watching the moving and I think its more of an educational movie that all gay men should watch...young & old. I'm honored that you were there and you can speak from experience.

What was it like in the Castro back then?? MarkyMark, your insight to this will open the doors of knowledge too all the younger gay men on the forum that take the gay life for granted (as I do at times)...we must know and keep this knowledge fresh in our minds so we can better our lives today.

-David

I thank you, David, and others for your interest. As a young man I learned a trite, but true statement. That you have to know where you came from to know where you are going. Please allow me a few hours to compose my thoughts, and I will be honored to share my memeories of Castro, Polk, Haight, and the Sunset districts. And maybe a few happy memeories as well from my early childhood, exploring "Bagdad by the Bay".

God Bless us all!:001_smile:
 
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So, where does one start to tell of a life so full of precious memories, wild parties, wanton sex (yes, even on the beach!) fabulous dinner parties, bath house romance, great shopping, and dodging the ever watchful eyes of Holy Mother Church!

I guess it was 1974/5, I was 20, and noone was worried about the devil, because I was loose on the streets, and he had nothing on me, so I thought. I had been cooped up, recovering from an eye injury, and at last I was free! The Reserves no longer wanted me, (I was damaged goods) and God had not yet had his "Little Talk" with me, so I cut loose, hitting the Castro, and this new area, in the S.O.M.A. (South Of Market Area) called Folsom Street. "I mean, really dude, guys will pay to fuck me? I'll be richer than Rockefeller!" The bars in the Castro were still on the seedy side, lots of older guys, and the young ones looking for a place for the night, a meal, or some other form of affection, be it drugs, alcohol, or just a quickie in the alley, outside or in the back room of the bar. Once in a while we scored some new clothes, or a fancy dinner. And safe sex meant you knew when there were no cops around! To paraphrase a book, it was a wonderful time, it was a horrible time. I guess if we had known what was coming, we might have been more careful; but when you're twenty, careful is not the first word in your lexicon. The only question I ever asked was "How much, and for what?" I learned very quickly who could get me "what". Younger guys, who peopled the bars along Polk street, were great for booze, drugs and a bed. The older fellows of the Castro didn't have the stamina, but their wallets more than made up for the missing passion. And, they had lots of rich friends who were very interested in showing someone like me a good time.

Folsom Street was a whole different story! It took me about a week to learn the "Hanky Code", always the right side, and only one color I didn't like. About the only place I did not wear one, was in the bathhouses, because they would get in the way. The old Club Baths, on 7th and Howard, was a six floor smorgasboard of leather bound pleasure, and I was a hungry boy. There wasn't as much money available, but the sex was incredible. Handcuffs, blindfolds, cock rings, whips, crops, watersports, well, you get the picture ( BTW, Thanks for the new fetish sites, Mark). I'm still not sure how many times I started stuff in the steam room/labyrinth, but, ironically, it was in there one night, that I had my most awkward experience. I was on my knees, taking care of a daddy, and as I looked up, the steam cleared for a second or two, ...GREAT! I was blowing one of the priests from my parish! "Bless me father, for I am sinning!, It's been three weeks since I saw anyone hung like you!" And, no, this was not when God spoke to me, yet) First the priest spoke, and gave me his words of wisdom. He said, "Don't stop". I didn't.

Ok, that's enough for now. More later
 
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So, naturally I made a hasty retreat, and avoided church for about two weeks, I mean, after all, what do you say to a priest after you've gone down on him? Certainly you don't discuss the weather, right? When we finally did bump into each other after Mass one Sunday, we engaged in light banter. I was glad the homily had not been about the 6th commandmaent! LOL! I do remember being very careful to check for his car in the parking lot next to the Club Baths for months after that initial run-in. Years later, in seminary, when he was a teacher, we actually laughed about it, when we were alone, of course!

In all, I would guess I spent a little over a year, maybe a year and a half basically being a full time hustler. I don't think I was proud of it, but I don't remember being ashamed. I guess I really never thought about it, until my friend Bill invited me to spend a weekend with some of his friends at a place called Presentation College, off Highway 17, south of Los Gatos, in the hills above Santa Cruz. It was the perfect place for God to set me up, and so He did.

Bill knew all about me. He had, on occasion had to pick me up from one place or another in the City, usually to dump me off at my aunt's house. Her daughter had been his best friend in high school, so what he knew, she knew. Anyway, one friday in May or late April, he had arranged to pick me up from some bar in the Castro, on the pretext of treating me to dinner. While we were eating, he asked me if I would like to go to the mountains for a few days, "No big thing, but I bet it beats slumming in the Castro for the weekend." So I said sure, and off we went, to what would become my future. I figured I might meet some guys, have a few laughs, and hey who knows, it was worth a shot.

It was getting dark by the time we got there, and Bill suggested hitting the hay early. I wanted to "explore", but I also did not want to argue, so I agreed to the early bed idea, found my room, laid down, and woke up early to sunlight and bird calls floating through the window opposite the bed. I figured this was a good time to check out the place, before Bill got a hold of me. So I found my way outside, and began looking around. I walked up to one end of the building, turned the corner, and there he was, my priest. Trying desparately to act nonchalant, I smiled and said "hey,
what's up?" I will always remember him looking at me, smiling, no, maybe he was smirking a bit, as he said, "the jig!" After we got some coffee, I learned that Bill, my cousin Maryann, and this priest, who all knew each other, had decided I needed to be off the streets. So they connived to get me to a weekend vocation retreat. I remember thinking how badly I wanted a drink, Johnny Walker Black, on the rock's, and no fu**ing bar anywhere. Long story short, I ended up beingchallenged to make a change in my life. They talked me into applying to a college in Mtn. View, starting over as a Freshmen, and so I could only get up to the city on weekends, but after five days of classes, those weekends got really wild. In four years, I missed maybe twelve weekends in the City, hitting every bar in the Castro and /or the Polk "strasse" and slumming with my old buds. I got real good at changing from street clothes to leather or hustler garb in the back of my little Bobcat. But, I noticed, things, even people, in the City seemed to be changing somehow.

But while I was busy doing "my thing", someone else was busy, in the background, slowly changing me too, and at first, I didn't even notice.
 
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For years, actually, since the Stonewall riots, we had been reading about "fags demanding their equal rights", but because we were still afraid, we were still being discriminated against. We were still hiding, deep in the furthest corner of those closets, behind the clothes, beneath the boots and shoes, avoiding discovery. We had very few role models, mostly what were shown in TV movies, and nobody wanted to be them. But things were starting to change, there was a strange feeling rising. Like, maybe, enough was finally enough. Instead of cowering when straights drove by and yelled, or ducking into a doorway, or bar, to avoid a confrontation, gay people were starting to yell back. We were flipping off the hecklers, and even daring them to stop, if they really had the guts! we were walking together in public, defying anyone to say anything. It was a painful time, but we were in labor, giving birth to the concept of militancy. It was time to fight back.

A lot of gay people will tell you that the best way to fight, is to force others to see you, "In your face" was a favorite phrase of the era. Suddenly, all the bars got fresh, glaringly bright coats of paint. Big signs appeared everywhere, and the Gay Flags started popping up all over the place like poppies in a field. New "Gay" boutiques began to spring up on every corner. And the music got louder. And we got what we wanted. They noticed us, and that's about when the beatings started. Things quickly boiled over, and the pink possies were started. I was one of the lucky ones. I had a place to go where I was beyond the reach of the bashers, but that fact alone bothered me terribly, because I had friends who didn't get away. I still think about them, and miss them terribly.

In the background, I was learning to love my fellow man, (yes, even them!) I was taught to forgive, to say NO to hatred and bigotry, to believe in a better world. Oh, I still wanted to play, for sure, but I no longer wanted to waste my energy trying to hurt them for hating me. I just wanted to be left alone, still shut away inside my nice warm closet. About this time there was a knock on the door. It was some guy named Harvey, who had this crazy idea to be the first "Gay" politician who was "out". "Are you serious?" "They'll kill you". He did it anyway, and he got elected to represent the Castro District as a county Supervisor. He was a god, He was brave, he was popular, and he was OUT! The celebrations in the Castro, Polk Street and Folsom were unbelievable. Harvey was even dubbed "Mayor of Castro". Suddenly those comfortable closets were too cramped, and we started jumping out like, well, like Easter Bunnies! Photos of Harvey were hanging in every bar and gay boutique you could find. It was celebration time. Finally, we were on the road to freedom. Then a fucking twinkie brought our whole world crashing down!
 
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Ask any San Franciscan, "what do you do when an earthquake hits?" You duck and run for cover. You try to survive. You wait till the shaking stops. Then carefully, almost timidly, you poke your head out, and try to assess the damage, see what you can do to help.

Harvey was dead! Our world had been shaken down to dust. There seemed to be nowhere to turn. Bars which just days earlier had been full to capacity were now empty mausoleums, memorial shrines to Paradise Lost . Nobody wanted or even had a reason to celebrate much of anything. Once again, those empty closets beckoned, offering comfort, solace, anonimity. For many, it was the only escape. For others, moving out of the City they loved was the only solution. Many have found new life in places like Healdsburg, Santa Rosa, Sonoma, Pacifica, Sacramento, the Russian River, and even Carmichael, where the gay communities have helped us to relieve the pain.
And we have our memories, and we nuture them, in hope of a new Shangri-La, where the leaders among us will not have to demand our rights, just enjoy them! I doubt that we will ever see a Castro or Folsom such as there once was, but we can always hope.

Goodnight, God Bless!
 
Dearest marky
Thank you so much for that I have faced my own demons many times and I KNOW in my heart that as gay men and women we have to stand together until there is not one bit of prejudice. This includes the prejudice we carry against ourselves Keep strong we will win this. Milk lit the way and we must follow
 
Catharsis is a wonderful thing. I think maybe now I am ready to see this film. Thanks, everyone for listening to an old windbag.

With Deep love and admiration,
 
Marky I am sure you will love milk. I remember sitting down for dinner and watching the news reports about the shooting and crying. My mother asked why I was crying and I said it was nothing. I was under the boots in the corner of the closet. I just watched the movie and was moved to tears. Mr. Penn was perfect.
 
Ask any San Franciscan, "what do you do when an earthquake hits?" You duck and run for cover. You try to survive. You wait till the shaking stops. Then carefully, almost timidly, you poke your head out, and try to assess the damage, see what you can do to help.

Harvey was dead! Our world had been shaken down to dust. There seemed to be nowhere to turn. Bars which just days earlier had been full to capacity were now empty mausoleums, memorial shrines to Paradise Lost . Nobody wanted or even had a reason to celebrate much of anything. Once again, those empty closets beckoned, offering comfort, solace, anonimity. For many, it was the only escape. For others, moving out of the City they loved was the only solution. Many have found new life in places like Healdsburg, Santa Rosa, Sonoma, Pacifica, Sacramento, the Russian River, and even Carmichael, where the gay communities have helped us to relieve the pain.
And we have our memories, and we nuture them, in hope of a new Shangri-La, where the leaders among us will not have to demand our rights, just enjoy them! I doubt that we will ever see a Castro or Folsom such as there once was, but we can always hope.

Goodnight, God Bless!

Thanks for telling that story Marky Mark. I have known the Harvy milk story for a long time. I hepled establish a local GLBT organization a few years back called it American Mosaic. I was also an active member of Susquehanna Lambda. Both organizations were awesome at their peak. We helped establish the Northcentra District AIDS Coalition and a local organization call AIDS REsource Alliance. We also took on and started the local Gay and Lesbian Switchboard. I had an active role is all of these organizations for almost 12 years. I am hoping that the movie Milk will inspire the next generation of young GLBT men and wopmen to take an active role in keeping all of these organizations alive. It has been a long and tedious fight and their is more work to do.

Now who wants to sign up to take a congress man or woman to bed for blackmale photos? It sure beats lobying. I wish we could get dave to shoot the photos and ask the hard questions about their first gay sex experience. LOL I only wish it were that easy... :lol:


"When spiders webs unite they can tie up a Lion." We need to stop fighting eachother and start working together for our own common good. "We got the right to choose it, there ain't no way we will loose it." We have free will and rights as humans. I just cannot believe we are still fighting for those basic rights in 2009.

Again Marky Mark thank you. :001_cool:
 
Now who wants to sign up to take a congress man or woman to bed for blackmale photos? It sure beats lobying. I wish we could get dave to shoot the photos and ask the hard questions about their first gay sex experience.

Oh NOOOOOO not that!! Have you seen the Arizona delegation????

John McCain Enough said
Jon Kyle Yuck and he's so far right Rush seems like a liberal
Gabby Giffords Nice lady, I voted for her, but she has a vagina
(She's married to an astronaut hence the brouhaha
with Stephen Colbert about the ISS)
Raul Grijalva Not touching that with anyone's pole no matter
what size
Jeff Flake name says it all

and the other 5 aren't any better!!!!

Jayce
 
Oh NOOOOOO not that!! Have you seen the Arizona delegation????

John McCain Enough said
Jon Kyle Yuck and he's so far right Rush seems like a liberal
Gabby Giffords Nice lady, I voted for her, but she has a vagina
(She's married to an astronaut hence the brouhaha
with Stephen Colbert about the ISS)
Raul Grijalva Not touching that with anyone's pole no matter
what size
Jeff Flake name says it all

and the other 5 aren't any better!!!!

Jayce

Oh, the sacrifices we must make LOL :lol:
 
Oh NOOOOOO not that!! Have you seen the Arizona delegation????

John McCain Enough said
Jon Kyle Yuck and he's so far right Rush seems like a liberal
Gabby Giffords Nice lady, I voted for her, but she has a vagina
(She's married to an astronaut hence the brouhaha
with Stephen Colbert about the ISS)
Raul Grijalva Not touching that with anyone's pole no matter
what size
Jeff Flake name says it all

and the other 5 aren't any better!!!!

Jayce



Have you learnt nothing from listening to DAVID. Close yr eyes man ..
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