Boys become preoccupied with physical appearance, allowing looks to dictate their interests and choices. This focus can lead them to overlook potential dangers or flaws that are not immediately visible. The allure of beauty often blinds them to what lies beneath the surface. Strip away those layers of clothing and he might have the most appalling skin condition. He might grind his teeth while asleep, and the next morning have awful bad breath. Despite being unaware of these hidden dangers, the risk is taken simply because he appears beautiful. By the time these flaws are realised, it is often too late; yet the cycle continues as attention shifts to the next attractive individual. The pursuit of beauty becomes an ongoing search, with lessons seldom learned and the superficial chase never-ending.
Wiry little fucker—blonde hair, tattoos. Apologies to the Arctic Monkeys. The boy’s a slag, the best you’ve ever had. The sex was brutal, violent—and it was wonderful. But it was only a dream. I woke up, realised none of it had happened… and now I can’t look him in the face anymore.
ABOUT LIKING ATTENTION JAKE NEVINS: How does it feel to be thirsted over by left-leaning gay men? HARRY SISSON: Hahahaha well I’m personally straight so it’s not something that interests me, but I don’t hate! Thirst if you wanna thirst, I won’t stop you.
CHARLIE SHEEN ON HAVING SEX WITH MEN “And in whatever chunks of time that I was off the pipe, trying to navigate that, trying to come to terms with it — ‘Where did that come from?… Why did that happen?’ — and then just finally being like, ‘So what?’ So what? Some of it was weird. A lot of it was fucking fun. And life goes on.”
TALKING WITH ETHAN “How are you getting on with Leon? Do you like him?” Ethan asked. “Good, but not really my type.” He seemed exasperated. “You don’t recognise him?” “Nope,” was my honest answer. “Are you pissing with me?” I shook my head and made a face. “I’ve never seen the guy before.” “Does that mean that you talk like normal people?” “It does,” I replied.
LISTENING TO ARTIE “The picture’s painted, I’ve been denied, the artist couldn’t fit me in, there wasn’t room for me inside. What else can I do when someone doesn’t want you?” – Art Garfunkel singing When Someone Doesn’t Want You… brilliant!
ON LYING ABOUT AGE “How old are you? Social media is so frickin’ secretive.” I was careful with my answer. “ I am the age that you imagine me to be.”
The curtains quiver, the window blows open and into the room flies a lovely boy clad only in cobwebs and autumn leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees.
My Own Private Idaho. Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix. Promotional still (1991)
Scott: I only have sex with a guy for money.
Mike: Yeah, I know.
Scott: And two guys can’t love each other.
Mike: Yeah.
Mike: Well, I don’t know. I mean… I mean, for me, I could love someone even if I, you know, wasn’t paid for it… I love you, and… you don’t pay me.
Scott: Mike…
Mike: I really wanna kiss you, man… Well goodnight, man… I love you though… You know that… I do love you.
***
Watched ‘My Own Private Idaho’ for the first time. Charlie asked me if I’d seen Keanu Reeves recently because he looked old. But he was 61-years-old. River Phoenix still looks exactly the same… but that was how he left things. I remembered that I’d mentioned Phoenix before… but in one of my stories, he had appeared as a ghost.
It wasn’t going to be called ‘My Own Private Idaho’… better than ‘Blue Funk’ or ‘Minions of the Moon’… and named after a B-52s song. Inspired by Shakespeare’s Henry IV plays… Prince Hal and Hotspur and Falstaff… but here it was Scott Favor, privileged bisexual, Mike Waters, narcoleptic gay hustler searching for his mother, and Bob Pigeon, coke-dealing chickenhawk. Gus Van Sant: “My films are usually about relationships. I think you make films about things you lack.”
I can’t stop thinking about River Phoenix because, I guess, I’m in love with yet another dead man.
1987… “Run to the rescue with love and peace will follow.” – River Phoenix.
1989… Star burning bright. Beautiful. Lightness. Creative. Camera object.
1991… Indie moment. ‘My Own Private Idaho’. Realism to fantasy. Challenging the norm. Self-destructive attitudes. Dark themes. Cool culture. Downbeat hustlers. Wanderers. A chance to become an adult actor. Gus Van Sant simply being Gus Van Sant.
Keanu Reeves laying in bed playing with his nipple. What River Phoenix needed after making this movie – a bath, a shave, an exfoliating facial scrub.
“How do you see yourself fitting in with younger Hollywood acting?” (A sweet voice). “I don’t see any of them in the perspective or in the limelight of Hollywood. I really don’t ever want to get that objective or self-consciousness of my place in this world of showbusiness.”
1993… LA nightclub. Halloween. Music blasting. Sitting on a couch. Tired. Intoxicated. Skinny. Bad skin. Ticking time bombs. Heroine. Cocaine. Morphine. Marajuana. Valium. Cold remedies. Addiction is an open secret here. And then the star exploded all over the pavement. Never did anyone move from casual drug use to death so quickly. The night that Fellini died – ‘A director’s sweet life. An actor’s brief life.’
Retrospective.
2025… ‘My Own Private Idaho’. Turning point. A troubling effect. Midnight rock sessions. Alcohol. Uncontrollable drug use. Crystal meth. Hooked. No chance of going back now. Progressive and fatal. Like ‘The Little Shop of Horrors’…if you go too near to the plant it will eat you. The best performance… but from now on he didn’t care enough about himself to look after himself. What about those he left behind? Nobody did anything to help him when he was alive… guilt… and lasting sadness.
Have a nice day!
My Own Private Idaho. Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix. Promotional still (1991)
My Own Private Idaho. Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix. Movie poster (1991)
“We speak of the body of the young man at his fullest development, just on the brink of maturity, a young man who has retained some of his original innocence. The model for the classic Greek was the young athlete, from an aristocratic family, who competed in the nude in the original Olympic Games. It is not until later that the natural male form was used as a medium for the expression of godliness, an idea that later became the basis for a popular religious sect. A look back through the twentieth century will demonstrate just how long the Beautiful Boy has been absent from our field of vision. Examine the popular male images of the past 60 years. How many of them have been both young and beautiful?”
The soul of a good time. But something changed. I’m not a social person anymore, but everybody wants me to be. They talk shit all night. I want to say, “Please go away, I prefer my own company now.”
The script didn’t work. We looked at it for hours… days even… until somebody said… “Ditch the Peter Pan shit, because everybody knows the Peter Pan shit already… focus on Michael, and only Michael, a handsome son of a bitch who Peter Pan would have fucked anyway.”
“Shameless. He floats naked in the water, the light rippling over chest and stomach. His lips, as if caught between a breath and a moan, his hand loose at his side like he’s waiting to be grabbed. There’s nothing soft about it – just flesh, need, and the unspoken dare in his stillness. Every line built for touch, for heat, waiting to be claimed. The invitation to take what you want. The sight is blunt, undeniable: he wants to be used.”
Charlie had taken his art in a new direction. He was bored, disillusioned with paintings of landscapes, objects and street scenes. A flirtation with what he called ‘art contemporain’ had ended in frustration. “Circles, squares, solid colours, lines, zig-zags … they mean nothing to me!”
The first that I knew about this new path was when I returned home to find Levi, our former lodger, sprawled on the sofa in just his underwear. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he flushed. ”I’m only doing it as a favour.”
Charlie shouted from the bathroom. “I am ready now. The bathtub is full and my camera is ready.” I was bemused to say the least.
Charlie wandered into the room. “Ah, you are home, mon ami. I need the bathroom for thirty minutes while I photograph Levi.”
The Polish boy with the Yorkshire accent followed him along the corridor and into the brightly lit bathroom. With a certain amount of embarrassment he stepped into the bath. “Lay down, Levi, and put your head underwater. I am going to stand on both sides of the bath and take photos from above.”
I watched from the doorway and listened while Levi was told to take deep breaths and submerge himself. Then he had to raise his right arm, then his left, and then both of them together. All the time, Charlie was precariously balancing, taking shot after shot.
When they had finished, Levi stood up, looking satisfyingly toned, and dripping from head to toe. Charlie looked him up and down. “As I suspected, you have a little dick, but we cannot all be lucky. You can get dry now.”
“I feel stupid,” Levi told him, “and I haven’t brought any dry boxer shorts.” Charlie flicked through the images and appeared not to have heard him, so I went to a bedroom drawer and gave him a pair of mine to change into.
That night Charlie spent hours searching for the right photo. The next morning he visited a local print shop and had it blown up to the size of a small poster. He placed it on an artist’s easel and studied it. “I am going to use this photo to create my next painting,” he announced. “If it is successful then I am going to start painting beautiful men from now onwards.”
I reminded him that there had been a time when he would have considered Levi anything but beautiful. “That was the case,” he replied, “but I needed somebody that I knew who was willing to model for me, and when I have finished, I will make him appear extremely homoerotic which is something he is definitely not.”
“Don’t fail to drop in to tea tomorrow old girl, or you’ll miss the treat of your life. A new beauty, my dear, the latest thing from Harvard. You may have read of him – Harold Halfseas. Has chestnut hair in crisp like waves all round his forehead; oval face, pure Grecian profile, marble and rose complexion and a magnificent figure. You’ll come? Thanks, darling! I thought you would.”
– From the World News – Columbus, Ohio – 2 December 1923
Perfectly Hard and Glamorous 