Vikram <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
I was going to apologise for another long compilation post today and
for going into overdrive on Johnny Weir, the American figure skater.
But actually, no apology, a queen in bloom is very hard to resist
(and he's skating very well too).
Read the stories below carefully - the joy is in the details. The
glove called Camille. The almost purchased mink lined umbrella. 'What
a Girl Wants, What a Girl Needs'. "Tinkerbelle". Nick Nolte's mug
shot. But what makes this whole diva performance more than just
entertainment is these two quotes from articles on him:
1) "When he was asked whether he worried about setting a good example
for children, he gave an answer that transcended spin doctoring: "I
don't think there should be one role model for all kids. I want to be
a role model for kids who feel different and stifled, kids that I was
like, kids who feel like they can't say what they want.'' "
2) "Let me address this head-on: This isn't about whether he's gay
because we don't know that, and it's none of our business anyway.
"But he is so openly flamboyant, so effeminate in a flaunting sort of
way, that he's a test of the homophobic, not-that-there's-anything-
wrong-with-that crowd anyway."
from outsports.com:
Why Johnny Weir rocks: Cyd and I agree that American figure skater
Johnny Weir is our favorite Olympic athlete. We love his
outspokenness and the fact that he is comfortable with who he is.
While there are no publicly out skaters in Torino, Weir isn't even
trying to fool anyone ("His being obviously gay -- without actually
coming out -- doesn't bother me," one Outsports poster wrote) and in
his interview last night on NBC he took great delight in tweaking the
establishment. As he walked out of the arena Tuesday night, he looked
at the camera seductively, then shimmied his shoulders while throwing
his head back. If Weir, 21, is not gay, then neither are we. Here is
Weir unplugged on NBC:
"I know that a lot of people, especially the more Republican-style
people, are very afraid of what I mean to the sport and what I'm
going to say, what kind of revolutionary, crazy things are going to
come out of my mouth. Good for them, they should be scared.
"I'm not a good, little figure skater that goes to bed at 8:30 every
night and gets up at 6:30, eats my three meals and goes to bed again.
[in the background, playing on his car radio, as he's driving in the
piece, swear to God, is 'What a Girl Wants, What a Girl Needs']. I'm
a real person. I do real things.
"I'm not going to be the shiny, sparkly, flower-holding figure skater
that sits here and says I'm going to do my best today and if I don't,
then I'll go home and train really hard next time. That's not me. I'm
going to be really angry if I skate bad and I'll probably say crazy
things. That's how I rock it.
"I'm not for everybody. There are going to be people that like you
and people that hate you. There's nothing I can do. I don't think I'm
a diva or pompous enough to be in the position of acting like a diva,
but I like things the way I like them to be. It's really my own game
and my own agenda and to live my life as happy as I can be.
"I'm not out there to be a puppet for anyone. For now, my critics
can eat it. I want people to remember me as someone that pushed the
envelope, pushed the boundaries of the [he makes an air quotes move
with his hands] 'United States figure skating establishment.' I'm
happy with who Johnny Weir is."
All we can say is: You go, girl! (Jim Buzinski)
------------------------------------
Comrade in arms
Skater Weir is American in fact, a Russian in heart
Gwen Knapp
Turin, Italy -- Johnny Weir's costume shimmers with sequins and
envelops one arm in fishnet. His hands sweep and swirl through the
air, and he finishes his short program with a red-gloved palm resting
dramatically against his face. Weir skates for the United States, but
he isn't hot dogs and apple pie. He is Bolshoi and caviar and,
whenever he talks, a stiff shot of vodka.
The 21-year-old has taught himself the Russian language, studied
czarist history and publicly worn a red sweatsuit jacket from the old
Soviet team uniform as a good-luck charm. Tatiana Totmianina, a pairs
skater who won the Olympic gold medal Monday night, gave the jacket
to Weir as a birthday gift. He had become an honorary Russian, which
in figure skating translates to: He could be a contender.
Over the last four Winter Olympics, the men's figure-skating gold has
gone to a Russian. Evgeni Plushenko, the leader after Tuesday's short
program, should extend the streak to five Thursday night. Meanwhile,
Americans have won only a silver and a bronze in all those years.
Too often, the U.S. men skate as if trapped behind an electrical
fence, certain that if they wear an outrageous costume or show the
wrong kind of emotion, they will be zapped like naughty puppies. Not
Weir. He moves with extraordinary artistic flair, as if he grew up in
a place that produced men such as Rudolf Nuryev and Mikhail
Baryshnikov.
"The fact that skating is a sport and an art form isn't really
appreciated (in the United States)," Weir told the Denver Post. "In
Russia, they appreciate it because they have a history of ballet and
music and culture and beauty. Here, people are more interested in
seeing a bunch of spandex-covered men in helmets running around
hugging each other for three hours.''
He probably shouldn't discount football's real selling point. In this
country, the definition of masculinity is narrower than the blades on
Weir's skates. Violence fits, and not much else. In Russia, skating
and ballet express passion, a manly virtue.
Weir doesn't even pretend to fit the American mold. He deliberately
shatters it. For example:
-- During his first group interview in Turin, he used the
word "princessy'' to describe himself as a traveler and instantly
became an Olympic legend.
-- He tells people he earned the nickname "Tinkerbelle'' from former
Olympian Nicole Bobek, who bestowed it on him because of his tendency
to flit about.
-- After he finished second in the short program Tuesday night, he
explained his itinerary for the day and concluded with "Then I did my
hair and my fake face.''
-- He wears a chain with the letter "D" around his neck, in tribute
to the Christina Aguilera song "Dirty.''
In theory, Weir should feel more at home in the States, where
individuality is ostensibly prized, than he ever could in Russia. But
he was fascinated by Russia's history of political repression and
tumult at an early age, even before he started skating. The skating-
mad country has come to love Weir back.
He has a jersey with his name in Cyrillic spelled out in sequins on
the sleeve. The Soviet jacket with the once-dreaded "CCCP" on the
chest bothered officials from the U.S. Figure Skating Association,
who didn't know what to think the first time they saw Weir wearing a
Cold War artifact.
"They've talked to us about it,'' Weir's coach, Priscilla Hill,
said, "and they understand where it's coming from.''
It wasn't the first time he had unnerved American skating officials.
His wisecracking drug and alcohol metaphors (an old costume was "a
Care Bear on acid'') prompted attempts to polish him for public
consumption.
For the most part, though, he is a natural with the media -- smart,
witty, insightful. When he was asked whether he worried about setting
a good example for children, he gave an answer that transcended spin
doctoring: "I don't think there should be one role model for all
kids. I want to be a role model for kids who feel different and
stifled, kids that I was like, kids who feel like they can't say what
they want.''
Elite figure skaters have very constricted lives.
Weir has tried to teach himself French as well as Russian. He has
established a rapport with Plushenko, whose skating style looks less
classically Russian than the American champion's. Or as Weir put
it: "I think Plushenko is a very modern Russia, as it is now. I'm
more from the Baryshnikov era.''
As if to prove his point, he danced beautifully around the question
of his national loyalty. "Being American and being accepted into
another culture,'' he said, "I suppose that's what being an Olympian
is all about.''
------------------------------------
Weir makes statement on international stage
Flamboyant U.S. skater shows he's not all talk with strong short
program
Robert Laberge / Getty Images
TURIN, Italy - Johnny Weir stood out among all the clumsy
bullfighters, pirates and princes, and not just because of the Swan-
Boy costume, which, let me tell you, was quite the rig. "It weighs
more than I do," he said. "It's the rhinestones." You never know what
to expect out of Weir's mouth, but you can always expect it to be
frank. After his performance in the Olympic men's figure skating
short program, it's frankly not out of the question to expect a medal
from him, either.
Weir is here. He's arrived. The three-time U.S. champion has
entertained us for some time with his reflexive wit, but in his
Olympic debut Weir finally showed he's a skater of international
substance, too, ready to become the premier American male in this
sport. Weir's swan routine, for which he received the second-highest
marks of the evening, a personal best 80 points, was muscular,
cleanly skated and expressive, and the outfit didn't hurt a bit. It
was complete with plunging white satin streaks representing feathers,
and a single red glove on his hand, for the beak, which he refers to
as "Camille."
"I'm taking Camille off," Weir announced in the hallway outside of
the Palavela ice rink.
Maybe there is a more appealing American athlete at the Winter Games
than Weir, but it's doubtful. This is a 21-year-old who mopped his
own floor in the athletes' village because he thought it was dirty.
He looks like a sprite, a handsome elf. But he talks like he's in the
grip of truth serum.
For instance, he prepared for his Olympic debut by eating a couple of
oranges and sleeping for most of the day. "Then I got up and did my
hair, and put on my fake face," he said.
It was great that the judges liked his enchantment of a program, he
said, but he didn't really think he skated so well. He
felt "lethargic," and in the footwork, "I was tripping all over
myself."
For his long program, Weir hasn't decided whether to attempt a
quadruple jump. It depends entirely on his mood, how he feels when he
gets out of bed that day. "I could very likely wake up and feel
horrible, like Nick Nolte's mug shot," he said.
As far as the gold medal, that's over. The favorite, Russia's Evgeni
Plushenko, will win the medal unless, as Weir points out, "he falls
three times. And then maybe somebody could squeeze by by a point or
so."
This is all typical Weir talk, and personally, I could listen to it
forever. Usually, athletes can be divided into two types of talkers,
those who fall back on cliches or canned sentences, and those who say
provocative things for the attention. Weir is neither. He'sjust a kid
who hasn't yet learned any artifice.
For instance, Weir just doesn't have it in him to pretend that
Plushenko is anything but utterly great, and virtually impossible to
beat here. Weir probably hasn't risen to the level of challenging him
yet. It will be difficult for any skater to wrest gold from
Plushenko, whose performance and score of 90.66 simply overwhelmed
every other competitor.
Heir to the great Russian skating tradition, Plushenko seems sure to
win the country's fourth consecutive gold in the men's event, a
string of successes that dates from 1994, and he might be as imposing
a skater as they have produced. With his stature, blond mane and ice-
blue eyes, he is positively kingly on the ice. His short program,
to "Tosca" by Puccini, was a piece of operatic theater that seemed to
fill the entire ice. No other skater was even close to him in the
height and athleticism of his jumps, or the clean edges of his
landings. His spins were so perfect, his skates looked like drill
bits. And he is the only skater in the world who can make footwork
interesting; the speed of his reversals and switches provoked intakes
of breath from the audience.
But Weir's marks were a sure sign that the judges regard him as this
country's comer. They were the best he's received in an international
competition and represented a significant step up, as they placed him
ahead of Switzerland's Stephane Lambiel, the reigning world champion,
behind whom Weir had placed fourth last March.
Weir was one of the few skaters all night to finish cleanly, and his
program withstood the harsh exposure of the Palavela rink, where
every slip of the foot seemed magnified. The arena is a large, cold,
industrial venue, with huge banks of white lights overhead, almost
phosphorous in their intensity, and bright aluminum benches and box
seats. And then there were the cool stares of the judges at rink-side.
"For the judges to give me that kind of love and support is
encouraging for the long program," eir said. "I think they're
starting to understand who I am and what I'm all about and starting
to reward me."
Part of Weir's charm is his openness in a sport that is all about
contrivance and bad acting. Skating is all brocade, tulle, velveteen,
leatherette and mesh, flying bits of ribbon and little gloves. Among
the performances in the short programs was a cringe-making James Bond
routine, and a guy imitating a typewriter.
Amid all these devices, Weir doesn't seem to have a genuinely self-
conscious bone in his body. He talks, and skates, from his heart. The
great thing about the Olympics is that sometimes, the competition
actually breaks through the commercialism. The Games are fully
underway, and the really fresh and captivating American athletes are
beginning to declare themselves, not just the personalities
prepackaged by their sponsors, or in TV commercials. Bode Miller and
Michelle Kwan preoccupied us before we arrived in Turin. But it's
athletes like Weir who engage us without warning.
"It's something I'm very proud of, something I wasn't expecting," he
said of his performance. Nobody else really was, either. And that was
the charm of it.
© 2006 The Washington Post Company
------------------------------------
Weir wears self-portrait of an artist
February 15, 2006
BY GREG COUCH SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST Advertisement
TURIN, Italy -- You should have seen what figure skater Johnny Weir
wore Tuesday night. It was some sort of multi-pastel knit scarf, with
a fur-looking wrap around his waist.
How did he skate in that? He didn't. That's what he wore hours later,
after taking second place in the Olympic men's short program, on the
way back to his room. He trails Russian Evgeni Plushenko, who is a
near-lock to become the fifth consecutive Russian or Soviet man to
win figure-skating gold Thursday.
What we can say about Weir for sure, comfortably, is that he is a
character. His skating performance is no act; it's him. During the
competition, he dressed like a swan, wearing a red glove on his right
hand to represent the swan's beak. He named the glove Camille.
Seriously. And he isn't wild about living in these athlete dorm rooms
in Turin.
"I'm very princessy as far as travel is concerned,'' he said. "I hate
carrying my own luggage. The beds aren't very soft. I'm roughing it.
For me, it's the same as going out in the woods.''
You don't find many guys saying they like to be princessy, but that's
Weir. Some of you won't care about that, and some will roll your eyes
at figure skating.
But give Weir a minute here. It is his ability and willingness to
express himself, through clothes, music, athleticism, that is making
him America's best figure skater.
This is about honesty and artistry. Weir is a character, yes. But he
might be the most honest person you will meet. He is honest with
himself, honest about himself, about his feelings, his surroundings.
And he is so well in touch, and so athletic, too, that it works to
put him in contention to win a medal.
Let me address this head-on: This isn't about whether he's gay
because we don't know that, and it's none of our business anyway.
But he is so openly flamboyant, so effeminate in a flaunting sort of
way, that he's a test of the homophobic, not-that-there's-anything-
wrong-with-that crowd anyway.
"It's over, it's done,'' he said after his routine. "It's Valentine's
Day. I can go buy myself a rose and some chocolate now.''
He was still in the swan thing. Then he suddenly seemed unable to
move his arm the way he wanted.
"Sorry,'' he said. "This material gets stuck in the rhinestones.''
See, skating is part athleticism, part artistry. So many times, you
see skaters who can do these big jumps, spinning four times around,
that you think that's all the sport is about. It's not. It's supposed
to be about a feel, a dance on ice. It's not all so left-brained.
It's not throwing a ball in a basket, and that counts as two points.
You can't score art objectively. And that's what bugs me about the
new scoring system, which is half tallying for tricks done and half
report card on the details of transitions and things like that.
I visited the Sistine Chapel before the Olympics and can imagine
judges giving Michelangelo two points for that brilliant red on the
ceiling, three for the blend to the next image.
Real art is about being honest. And sometimes that honesty is missing
in figure skating.
"This costume weighs as much as I do, by the way,'' Weir said. "There
are three layers.''
He went on to describe the flesh layer, the Lycra layer, something
about the beads and feathers.
At the national championships, he was asked to contrast his program
with a competitor's.
"With mine, [spectators] wanted to sit back with a cognac and a
cigarette and go, 'Ahhhhhh,''' Weir said. "His was more of a shot of
vodka and a line of cocaine.''
The skating upper-ups were uppity about that and asked him to be
careful about what he says.
The thing is, he can't. When he starts blabbing, funny things come
out. Honest things. And they aren't an attempt to make a show of his
honesty. He just has no filter on his words.
He talked about the Chinese pairs skaters from Monday night. The
woman suffered a serious and painful fall and, after six minutes,
continued to skate anyway.
"That girl, I would buy her diamonds if I could afford it,'' he
said. "It seemed like a fall that could render someone unable to have
children.''
He was asked if he would have the nerve to try a quadruple jump in
the free skate Thursday. It would depend, he said, on whether he
feels perfect enough to go for it.
"I could wake up and feel horrible, like Nick Nolte's mug shot,'' he
said.
He complained, too, that he had swept his dorm room three times, and
it was still dusty. And he talked about his performance Tuesday as a
little flat.
He feels all of these things. He wears the makeup and strange get-up
that all the skaters wear. Many of them are wearing it all to create
something.
Weir doesn't have to invent it. That's what he really is.
What are the most popular cars? Find out at Yahoo! Autos
Group Site:
http://www.gaybombay.info
==========================
This message was posted to the gay_bombay Yahoo! Group. Responses to messages (by clicking "Reply") will also be posted on the eGroup and sent to all members. If you'd like to respond privately to the author of any message then please compose and send a new email message to the author's email address.
Post:- gay_bombay@yahoogroups.com
Subscribe:- [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Digest Mode:- [EMAIL PROTECTED]
No Mail Mode:- [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Individual Mail Mode:- [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Contact Us:- [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Archives are at http://www.mail-archive.com/gay_bombay%40yahoogroups.com/maillist.html
Classifieds for personal advertisements are back on www.gaybombay.info
site. Please exercise restraint in the language of your personal
advertisement.
SPONSORED LINKS
| Love and romance | Romance relationship | Gay men |
YAHOO! GROUPS LINKS
- Visit your group "gay_bombay" on the web.
- To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
- Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service.
