Laundry list

I never imagined I could be so at home in a completely new place as I was this past weekend with my beloved friend, Charlene. She made me feel welcome, in her home and in her town, and it was the most I've relaxed in a good many years. Thank you, my separated-at-birth other sister, for the vacation I so desperately needed.

Charlene, me, and Powder

From the moment Charlene approached me at the airport, and I burst into tears, I knew the trip was more than worth the effort. It wasn't the last time I wept on her, either, poor woman. Such relief at finally meeting my friend was not something I had expected, but I'm an emotional basket case anyway. Together we laughed, we cried, we squeeed. It was everything I wanted it to be.

Naturally, while I've been escaping from my escapism, events have continued to unfold in Jakedom. He's very inconsiderate sometimes.

Okay, I admit: the foremost development on this front isn't of Jake's doing. Jake Watch have officially announced their impending departure from the blogosphere. And this I had to read while in a hotel lobby, because contrary to what the hotel's online profile stated, there was not, in fact, wireless internet in every room. So there I sat, leaking from the eyes and sucking back snot as I read the kind well-wishings of JW loyalists whose names hadn't been seen around in many months. Jake Watch has been more than a destination; it is an institution, one that Jake and his "people" would have done well to appreciate while they had the chance. But hey, britpopbaby and Prophecy Girl weren't doing it for Jake, they were doing it for themselves and us. Nothing good lasts forever. I salute them.

Someone at San Francisco online alternative zine BeyondChron managed to echo all the frustration that has followed me since the first mainstream Rendition reviews appeared. Marc Norton, a hotel bellman by profession, writes

[T]hat is the point of this movie -- to make you think. That is exactly what all the luke-warm and negative reviewers don't want to do, and don't want you to do.

Yes, I said I felt somewhat unsatisfied by the film myself, but I can now confirm, having seen it a third time, that it does indeed get better with every viewing. It probably should embarrass me to confess this, but I still get a chill every time Isabella El-Ibrahimi shrieks at Corrine Whitman to just tell her that her husband is okay. True, some people get a similar chill when they hear fingernails scraped down a chalkboard, but the moment works for me, and I didn't think it would. Anyway, even if you skip Norton's review, please check out his link to an article from the New York Times about a real-life "war on terror" whistleblower whose efforts prove that perhaps Douglas Freeman's actions were not so far-fetched after all.

Let's see, then we had Jake and Reese attending a Halloween party in the most pathetic non-costumes imaginable. These are people with money. The lack of any effort on their part strongly suggests that either the invitation or the choice to attend came at the last second. That's always the way I want my party guests to be represented to the public at large. Hooray for Hollywood.

What else? Jake's getting down to work on Brothers, and now there's a whisper from Variety linking him to something called Nailed that would also star Jessica Biel. That title connotes such potential, I'm afraid to scoff. It's almost a wet dream unto itself.

Oh, then my internet provider irritated the hell out of me by failing to pick up the new DNS record for IHeartJakeMedia following their domain expiration a few days ago. I'm way behind on downloading Jake images, and that didn't help matters. Things are finally in place as they should be, but it will take me a whole weekend to catch up.

Jake hung out with Robert Downey, Jr. one night. Then he and Reese got video papped on a beach somewhere. Reese appears at one point to be picking something from Jake's teeth. Very romantic. In the past, such intrusive video would have set off my fiercest protective instinct, but the fact that they've probably been together for several months and managed to avoid such paparazzi run-ins for as long as suited their needs leaves me feeling somewhat less sympathetic. And I hate that I feel that way.

I want to continue to love Jake in the way I always have. More than want, I need it; it's something to occupy a dangerously obsessive mind, one that will turn to far less benign thoughts in the absence of this diversion. Most of all, I don't want to come here sounding like a bitter rejected fifteen-year-old, and I'm afraid that's exactly how I sound.


I can't swear off Jake right now. I fear it would literally kill me. Especially when photos like this one make my heart ache.

Photos: Peggy Mitchell, IHJ.

Departing

Remember, I'm going to be away for a few days starting tomorrow. So if I don't come in to post something, it's not proof that I've slit my wrists. Honest.

This is a poem I wrote for my very treasured friend, Charlene, back in April. I can't imagine anything more appropriate to leave you with while she and I meet for the first time and celebrate a friendship that we both owe to none other than Jake Gyllenhaal.




What does love mean?
Who decides when it's love
and when it's something else?

Can you tell me it's not love
just because I've never met him,
never had a conversation,
never stood in his presence?

Because I can't touch him,
can't hold him,
can't comfort him when things overwhelm?

Because I've never watched him walk away
and wondered if he'd ever come back?

Does love have qualifications?

Don't speak these other words to me--
infatuation, idolization, fandom, lust!
--and condescend to tell me that they describe what I feel

My love is as real as any other
A living, hoping, screaming thing

You cannot squeeze my feelings into one of your neatly labeled boxes just to make yourself feel better

So you, who say I do not love:
can you say to me that you do?
And how does it feel?

Do you think about him at the most random moments
(what funny thing would he say about this? or
I wonder if he's happy right now)?

Do you cry, and laugh, and sigh for him?

Do you wish him all the joys, big and small, that life may hold?

Do you marvel at the beauty of the human being he is?

Love and reason are strangers to each other
Rationality and emotion, only passing acquaintances

And all this pain,
and craziness,
and euphoria
that propels me through my waking hours
However irrational, however unreasonable
However misunderstood and derided by you
Is as precious to me as any secret
and as real as any truth

This is my heart
and it loves

Photo: IHJ.

Zen-less

Disclaimer: Anyone who feels they might be offended to read the honest, confused, irrelevant and disturbed reactions of a strange fan, please leave now. You won't like this. And you can't leave me nasty comments because registration is required, so you might as well move along.


Just when I thought my head couldn't get any more fucked up.

I've been battling a migraine for the past five days, and now I know why. It was the harbinger of abysmal, soulcrushing depression to come.

It's not like this is a complete shock. Except it is, in its way, because of all the denials. Except those denials weren't really denials, were they? They were carefully worded dodges, witty retorts and (in her case) intimidating refusals to answer bolstered by publicists crawling around on all fours during interviews. I have actually been telling myself for weeks that I would be relieved if Jake made a relationship public, because then, all the speculation would be over, Jake could go about his business and stop facing the irrelevant questions that reporters and talk show hosts had no right to ask. I thought I wanted this.

So why does it hurt?

Jake Gyllenhaal does not owe us anything, least of all any kind of insight into his private life. But for someone like me, who has staunchly defended his right to privacy and even suggested that some people were a little overeager to believe the tabloids, it's like a dirty trick. Hah! You tell people to stop speculating about me? Here's what you get: proof that those tabloids actually were right. Now I must resign myself to never doubting another bloody word I read attributed to US Weekly, People and OK.

I guess this means we should all be bracing ourselves for Brokeback 2?

Sigh.

What the hell, Jake? Don't you understand? You're far too special to be sharing yourself with another Hollywood type, no matter how respectable she may appear to be. You are supposed to be with me. Only me, forever. I'm the only one who knows how truly unique you are, who appreciates all your little quirks, who noticed the gray spot in your beard before you did, who dreams of you not because you're the most beautiful man in the world, but because you are sweet, and dorky, and funny, and warm, and sometimes a bit of a prick, and frequently can't articulate your way out of a paper bag, and more than anyone real in my life, you feel like a friend. See, I've only ever really loved my friends. I'm not one of those women who has friendships with one type of man but prefers another as a partner. I don't lust after the bad boy or the guy who treats me the worst. I might even be unique myself, because I don't know anyone else who has been alone her entire life, always the friend, never the girlfriend or lover. Never the lover. I can't be with just anyone. It has to be someone I love and trust. There have only been a few men who fit that description, and they were the best friends I ever had, but that's as far as it could go for them: friendship.

I am confused by fans I see online talking about jealousy over this, who clearly have partners in their real lives. If I had someone, I wouldn't fucking be here. Yes, Jake is talented, and I'd still enjoy his movies, but I wouldn't need him. And I do need him. He's my surrogate boyfriend, the lover I don't have, the fantasy man. That he's probably been seeing someone for months while I successfully used him in this fashion might rationally sound like a reason to relax, but I'm here to tell you it hasn't helped me.

I'm not particularly concerned with whether or not you like me. 'Cause I live to like you, and...and I can't like you any more. -- Duckie Dale (Jon Cryer), Pretty in Pink

I'm not an idiot. Just because he wasn't with someone else never meant that I had a chance, and yes, I recognize that fact. Nor do we have any guarantee that this is the last relationship he will ever have. And more than anything I want for him, I want him to be happy. My irrational reaction is my problem, not his. Why this should have any effect on my fantasies, I can't really say. It just does. Not being able to constantly escape into thoughts of being with him is a terrifying prospect to me. On my way home from work tonight, I honestly started to panic; my life is so colorless and flat and I have literally no clue what to do with myself, professionally or otherwise. Having filled every (oh, so many) hollow moment with contemplation of Jake in some form or other for so long, I can't imagine anything else suffusing me with that ebullient passion. Nothing's as easy as loving Jake.

Screaming girls

Here's yet another great interview with Jake from London, this time in the Daily Mail. Today's lighthearted gem of a quote comes in response to the question of who Jake would like to be stuck in an elevator with. He sidesteps this neatly, as we have come to expect, by instead talking about the crazy interview he did with Susan Sarandon for Moonlight Mile, a portion of which took place in the ladies' room of a Manhattan restaurant.

I discovered two things that day: that the floor in a woman's bathroom is colder than the floor in the men's. And, believe me, I've spent a lot of time on the floor of a men's bathroom so I should know!

What, was he standing there barefoot? Positively priceless, darling. Now we'll have lots of blog posts in the next week about Jake Gyllenhaal's intimate knowledge of men's room floors. At least he didn't say they were airport men's rooms.

I'm not going to discuss the other thing he discovered, unless someone really wants me to. Because I could, you know. I'm just trying to be polite to my innocent readers.

Apparently he either has managed to avoid exposure to the redundant and conflicting agendas of the worst offenders, or recognizes that they do not represent all of us, because he has kind words for his fans in general. And in case anyone still doubted it, Jake confirms that he loves that red carpet attention, so I hope our Xenia and Kate screamed their lungs out for him in Rome. I'd love to scream for him, too, but I'd prefer to do it in a more private setting.

All photos: IHJ.

Be nice to me

Yes, I'm going to talk about what I thought of Rendition.

First, go read this interview with Jake from the Telegraph, done while he was in London. On the one hand, it has terrific elements than any good interview should: description of Jake's posture, clothing (guess which well-worn, big-necked ensemble?) and oh god, voice ("gentle with dark undercurrents"--can I cut that phrase out and put it under my pillow?), evidence that the writer has actually done some research, and questions pertinent to the reason they're both there: Rendition. On the other, it's full of extraneous stuff; recycled facts from that research I just mentioned, and a completely unnecessary probing into Jake's sexuality that proves the interviewer is one of those people who...well, he's one of those people. Plus either transatlantic flight made Jake two inches taller, or this guy just guessed it wrong. Everyone does says he seems taller than they imagined.

So, Rendition.

I wish I could rave about it, say that it was unequivocally the best movie I've seen since Zodiac, but this isn't that kind of movie. I attended a Friday night showing and left the theater somewhat unsatisfied. Thinking it was probably due to all the pent up expectation, and the vaguely arctic temperature in the theater that made it hard to focus, I decided to see it again this afternoon. Besides, I really wanted another, undistracted look at Douglas Freeman. Hey, I'm nothing if not honest.

On second viewing, I did feel more involved in the story, but not as much as I thought I should have been. Maybe that's because I wanted it to be something it couldn't: a revelation. Unlike the majority of the intended audience, I have already read enough about the policy of extraordinary rendition and its purported place in the defense of national security. Rendition didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. At least this time, I did feel moved by several scenes, and my overall impression is that this is a movie that will grow on me with each additional viewing, much like Jarhead.

What I can enthusiastically endorse is Jake's performance. My bias notwithstanding, it's a Hollywood irony that while few critics seem to know what the film's motives were, the role of Douglas Freeman struck me as typical Oscar fodder. WDW was right in that this really is Jake's movie, despite its trying to be so much more. His is the character that makes the biggest connection, who reveals multiple dimensions to the audience. All the performances were excellent, but for me no one shone like Jake with his flimsy professional facade after the bombing and barely-contained self-loathing during the events that follow. More than anything else, what I walked out of that theater feeling this afternoon was an intense pride. As with most of his movies, the box office numbers will be irrelevant; Jake Gyllenhaal has proved again that he is a phenomenal actor, and he'll have work in Hollywood for as long as he wants it.

All photos: IHJ.

Release

Another twelve hours before I will finally watch Rendition. That is, if I don't get sent home from work early for doing everything wrong because I am mentally elsewhere. Would that be a good or a bad thing?

Ellen DeGeneres is one of the kindest, sweetest people I've ever seen, so hearing her call Jake Gyllenhaal her friend gave me such a warm mushy feeling I almost cried.* I know that's because of my hormones, but it still made me very happy. Hearing her say what I already knew--that he "might just be the perfect man"--didn't feel bad, either.

Oh, so much to savor in this visit with Ellen, I haven't even absorbed all of it yet. Jake conceding that he'd take off his pants before he took off...what? His shirt? Let the speculation on why begin. Jake dangerously playful with a big knife; Jake like an excited kid in the kitchen, grabbing at the chicken in the refrigerator before the clock started; Jake sounding absolutely sincere when he gushed "I've always wanted to do this!" Jake ordering Ellen around like Gordon Ramsay, only charming; Jake eagerly grabbing the wine and gulping it with both hands on the glass.

Sigh.

There's so much I want to say today, but I'm afraid to keep going on and on...I may never stop.

Ten and a half hours remain now until I see Rendition.

Vanessa Farquharson's interview with Jake finally was published this morning at the National Post. Even if she hadn't declared in so many words her crush on him, she revealed the level of her interest by referring to his "perfectly formed" hand. This is the kind of talk that goes on in the fangirliest of forums, like here, here, and here. I know because I'm one of the fangirls.
(Update: I just noticed that Vanessa has erroneously identified IHJ rather than the brilliant Jake Watch as the originators of the Jake in '08 campaign. Is there no justice for PG and bpb? Should I write to the National Post?)

Following on the heels of these two items in the Washington Post is a similar Q-and-A with Peter Sarsgaard. I'm sure this means there's more with Peter elsewhere in the paper, and I'll go find it later.

What am I avoiding here?

The truth: I am afraid of not liking this movie. This is a rotten side effect of my constant pursuit of news that contains the name Jake Gyllenhaal, because just about every reviewer has indicated their opinion within the title or opening line of their review (as is good practice). No, I don't usually take the word of film critics on any movie, but I have to admit having been affected by the negativity I've exposed myself to over the past week.

More than that, I am irrationally but nonetheless deeply concerned for Jake and his happiness. What shines clear and true through all the interviews we've seen this week is that Jake is very much a genuine, sensitive young man; there is no magical mithril celebrity armor protecting him from the bullshit of Hollywood, he is not slick and polished. He is consistently shy when complimented about his physique and sincerely uninterested in impressing anyone with his own political opinions, preferring to focus on his job as an actor. In short, he appears to be a vulnerable, sweet, uncommon human being. I don't know any men like this personally. None who are available, anyway. Which is why I've been alone all my life.

About nine and a half hours to go.

Perhaps the very thing that I know to be causing all this artificial (yes, I recognize it for what it is) angst will actually help me tonight when I sit down in the theater. I'm so emotionally susceptible right now, it's probably the best time to watch Rendition, because even if it sucks, I'll be swept away.


*In fact I did cry later when Ellen told the car jumper about his Nike deal. I am seriously at the mercy of my endocrine system.


All photos: IHJ.

Piddling influence

I am avoiding all the Jake sites online, starting right now, until I get home and watch Ellen and the ITV interview for myself. True sign of a bent mind: the fear of being spoiled on an interview. I tried to tell my doctor that we need to review my meds, but he said I was fine.

Anyway, I've forgiven Jon Stewart for going on and on about Larry Craig. Because this morning, I had a thought. It's a far-fetched thought, but it is entirely within the realm of probability. Last night, my immediate impression was that the Donnie Darko references were Jon's creative way of both acknowledging the online fandom and telling us that he thinks we're insane. That assessment hasn't changed, but what did occur to me as I read through Prophecy Girl's live-blog account made me glad I hadn't thought of it last night. Because I'd never have gotten to sleep. Because it's just too intriguing to ponder.

Of all the roles, why Donnie Darko? Certainly the Brokeback Mountain community has a bit more presence.

Perhaps because one of the crazy fans who wrote to The Daily Show begging Stewart to mention the online Jake in '08 campaign signed with her screen name, Cherita Chen, and some intern whose job it is to read that email recognized the name as a character from Donnie Darko? Did Jon Stewart just make fun of me on his frequently-rerun (just look at my sidebar) show? Has the legacy of the Toronto cilantro continued?

Or is it the migraine medication I had to take last night? The hormone fluctuation from my feminine cycle? Just plain nuttiness?

I'll be back some time tonight after I've caught up on all the day's treasures. Cheers!

Photos: IHJ.

Conan O'Brien saves the world

Okay, not really. But he did give us the absolute best, most delightfully bizarre moments with Jake so far this week. He's also the first one to even mention Zodiac among Jake's past work. Just about everything that was missing from all the prior interviews was here, starting with a change of clothes for Jake. Whether this was arbitrary or the result of some misfortune befalling the pinstriped suit, we can't say.

Conan cited the Jake Gyllenhaal beard effect, which induced Jake to talk about how he smells. This is very dangerous territory, and once again I wonder if Jake knows what he's doing to some of us when he says these things.

Having (more subtly than on his last visit) trashed his father's judgment on Letterman, it was someone else's turn to be embarrassed by Jake on national television: his friend, the devoted Red Sox fan. Gyllenhaalics can pretty well guess who that is, and being able to picture him as Jake tells the story makes it that much funnier. I always prefer that Jake humiliate himself rather than a loved one when giving interviews, but in this case a little payback for some truly eye-catching behavior was probably in order, so I'm with him here. Plus he's just so damn adorable in telling it; it's Jake's recreation that everyone will see and make fun of, and he knows that.

Conan also managed to ask Jake a somewhat personal question that wasn't invasive. I hope other tv hosts around America were taking notes. Jake said yes, he went a little crazy being between jobs for several months, and then gave us the musical tie-in that we should have had on Letterman with 50 Cent by singing a bit of Gnarls Barkley. Which he parlayed into a Gnarls Barkley duet with Conan. I love this man.

Um, Jake, that is, though Conan has definitely won me over in his own right.

So, will Jon Stewart ask Jake any of the questions sent in by fans? Honestly, it would be more than I hope for. This week's schedule is so full of Jakey goodness it has made the home stretch to Rendition's opening fly by, and the promise of another red carpet appearance (Roma Film Fest) immediately following means my adrenaline--and my pheremones--will be pumping for a while to come.

Rendering truth

Meredith Viera: Brokeback Mountain, did you have any idea when you were making that, what you were sitting on? ...So to speak, I probably shouldn't use that term, actually I apologize...

Jake: Very well put, Meredith.

Well, that was worth waking up for.

So let's recap the promotional tour so far:

Jonathan Ross awkwardly focuses the majority of his interview on Brokeback Mountain and Jake artfully dodges the environmental issue by declaring he swims everywhere. Ross then ratchets the awkwardness up another couple notches by commenting appreciatively about Jake's naked stomach.

Jake tells David Letterman that a shitfaced, belligerent woman in London went from an object of hate to love when she called him Jake Gooberballs. Dave asks the tired old question about growing up in a showbiz family and we are all rewarded with another story demonstrating that Stephen Gyllenhaal is an absent-minded dork. I picture Naomi with her head in her hands listening to this.

The Today interview goes from intense, focused intellectual discussion about Rendition and Jake's (very well articulated, I thought) motivations in choosing roles to embarrassed twitters as Meredith Viera puts her fumbling foot quite neatly in her mouth while yet again bringing up a movie Jake made two years ago. Jake handles it so gracefully I want to kiss him. I'm kidding no one here, I always want to kiss him.

And now, Kelly Ripa thinks the beard is a nice one. Kelly apparently doesn't notice the patchiness that I see, or that gray spot that Jake himself has just acknowledged. Regis Philbin interrogates Jake about his social life like an overprotective mother. Jake struggles to remain polite while avoiding answering questions that are no one's damn business and still comes off charming. Kelly at least manages to ask a decent question about photo shoots, and Jake uses the word fraud regarding those Interview images. I swear I've heard that before.

More on all this later. I'm going back to bed for a few hours.

All photos: IHJ.

Monday morning wake-up call

I discovered something about my obsession this morning: I have not lost all capacity for reason. Here's how I know. There will be a sneak preview of Rendition at University of Miami's Cosford Cinema in Coral Gables tomorrow night at 9 pm. And I'm not planning on going. Coral Gables is about 90 minutes from my home, and it's just too damn far and too much trouble to justify. I can see the movie a few days later as planned if it saves me a trip to south Miami. I'm so proud of myself for being able to say that, it's rather frightening in itself. Let's not focus on it.

In addition to the Supreme Court decision on the ACLU case of Khaled El-Masri, the movie is getting free press courtesy of Amnesty International, who want us to watch Rendition and then go sign up at their Unsubscribe Me campaign site. Will it make any difference? Who knows. But not doing anything will make even less difference.

Also, I found this wonderful discussion with director Gavin Hood about his choices in making the movie and what he hopes to accomplish with it. Bravo, Gavin.

Jake's (mostly) fabulous visit with that wacky Jonathan Ross on Friday is still reverberating through the internet. Posts like this one on the YourLondon Calling blog, entitled "OMG! How cute is he?" are a reminder to me that there are still folks who had not yet succumbed to the Gyllenhaal charm. It's like a revelation to them. Yes, Jake is funny, and adorable, and sexy, and natural, and a cutie, as assorted bloggers have all declared since witnessing this interview. Welcome to my world.

Meanwhile, in case there's anyone else out there who, like the Splash blogger, didn't get it: no, Jake would not want to be a farmer if he weren't an actor. It's called humor. Very dry, deadpanned humor, delivered perfectly as most of his is. Perhaps these folks could benefit from more exposure to Jake's wit. Well, really, who wouldn't?

And we'll all get our next chance tonight when Jake returns to chat with David Letterman. Once again, live blogging is promised over at Jake Watch for those of you who don't receive U.S. broadcast television, though Prophecy Girl warns she may just end up waiting to hit "post" until it's over. Am I the only one who sees phenomenal potential in the scheduling of 50 Cent as the musical guest while Jake's there? I mean, it's not Kanye, but who knows what delicious insanity may transpire. I haven't felt like this since Christmas Eves as a kid. Bring it on, baby, I'm ready.

All photos: IHJ.

Fly-by

That warm breeze you Brits felt a bit ago was Jake Gyllenhaal as he redefined whirlwind with his sudden departure from London after less than a day's stay. Once again, I am kept in a state of mild bewilderment as I try to imagine what on earth it was in those two bags and the oblong container that Jake just had to have with him for his brief visit. Obviously it was not a fresh outfit for today's flight home.

Also, I don't know if it was the stress of his schedule, something he ate in London, or exposure to that Jordan character, but the dear boy has broken out overnight. Even Jake's pimples are more attractive than those of mere mortals. If you haven't already caught up, Wet Dark and Wild has graciously provided video of Jake's ordeal on Jonathan Ross yesterday. She's just added the green room footage, which I haven't seen yet but plan to appreciate when I get home tonight.

***

Okay, as I was saying before I was rushed out the door, I've also managed to get hold of the Entertainmentstudios.com bit that TVGuide promised would show on 10/6. It didn't, of course. Being the tenacious Gyllenhaalic that I am, I wasn't going to give up so easily, and I set a series recording on my DVR. The damn thing finally happened at 4 am Saturday, so it's been uploaded. Not a big interview, but it's Jake talking about Douglas Freeman. Hell, it's Jake, and that's enough. We are so easy. Big thanks to Stephanie from IHJ for letting me know that the first upload somehow got clipped short! All better now.


All photos: IHJ.

Jonny-on-the-spot

Absurd. I've just become giddy with the sight of what appear to be hand wipes in the side pocket of Jake's backpack. More shots of Jake strolling through Heathrow are available at the IHJ Community.

Over and over, I marvel at the strangeness of my obsession. And not just my obsession, but that of the others in my condition, as well. For example, why is it so endearing that Jake Gyllenhaal wears the same casual clothes repeatedly? I do it. You probably do it. Everyone I know does it. But for some reason we assume that a movie star has so much money to burn, and such pressure to be an icon of style or freshness, it's utterly novel that Jake should wear the same goofy shirt with the craterous neckhole that he was snapped in a few weeks ago while valet parking for coffee.

Ah, fandom. I embrace my insanity.

And thanks, Jake, for wearing those boots, too. I love those boots. I want to see those boots propped up on my coffee table. I want them tossed haphazardly under my bed.

I must have finally reached and breached my overload point, because I'm totally back to zen right now, anticipating a live blogging event tonight by JW's britpopbaby. Friday Night with Jonathan Ross begins at 10:35 GMT, which equates to 5:35 EDT, my time. I shall still be in traffic when that happens, more likely than not, but I won't miss more than a few minutes unless there's an accident on the road, and no one would have the effrontery to keep me away from something like this: the vicarious experience of a talk show in another country on another continent by frequent browser refresh. I cannot wait.

Life is weird. Weird is good. I like it.

All photos: IHJ.

Sensory overload

Every single day, I tell myself I'm going to stop spending so much damn time on Jake, and every single day, I fail. Last night while I managed to catch up on House, MD (with that Rendition spot again, yay!) and Dexter, Jake Gyllenhaal was at a premiere for Rendition in Beverly Hills. As you can see, the beard lives. In fact, the beard is once again taking on a life of its own. I love you, you rebellious, furry man. Over 100 new photos up at IHJ.

Steph's also got us some caps from the HBO First Look: Rendition that aired last night. I attempted to transfer the show from my DVR, but the resulting file had audio, no video. Possibly a copy protection issue because it's a pay channel. I was too damn tired to figure out another way last night, and by the time I get around to it, I'm sure someone will have made it available elsewhere. For all I know, they already have. (Update: Silly me, of course they have. IHJ took care of you. Get it here.)

How will I survive Rendition Week if Jake keeps popping up at random in addition to all that's scheduled? As it is, most of my day is spent in contemplation of my goals and needs as inspired by Jake. There are not enough hours in a day, not enough time in the week to get a handle on what it is my brain is trying to tell me. Do I want to take a whack at being a writer? Or am I willing to keep working some job or other and just hope that my interests can be satisfied outside the nine-to-five routine? As it stands, my current job has become nothing more than a nuisance I endure to receive pay. That's pretty bad, and I'm not happy about it. But with Jake scrambling my brain, I'm having a hard time understanding what I do want. All I'm clear on is wanting him.

All photos: IHJ. Nod for post title to BirdGirl.

Fixation

Fixation


Toothpicks, stir straws, bubblegum, fingernails
An endless parade of pacifying proxies
passing between those restless lips

What is it that you crave?

Watching your mouth is like soft-core porn
Your tongue, ever eager to taste the world
taunts me with its frequent flicks and licks
Such a busy, well-exercised muscle
always working something
rolling, gnawing, chewing, sucking

My whole body aches for the attention
of that insatiable, untamed mouth


(previously posted to the JW forums, 5/10/07)

All photos: IHJ.

Satellite of love

News always breaks overnight. It's a conspiracy to keep me from sleeping, and it's working. Variety reports that Jake Gyllenhaal has signed on to star in a DreamWorks project about colonization of the moon. Sigh.

They call it an "actioner." I cringed. Okay, I admit a love-hate relationship with The Day After Tomorrow, which I re-watched many times before realizing Jake was my ultimate goal in life. The effects, minus those awful wolves, were spectacular, and the tornadoes in Los Angeles always got me. But let's face it, the film took lots of liberties with science. Not just the climate stuff, either. I remember laughing the first time I saw a trailer for it, and they showed that big wave crashing into the NYC high-rises...and flowing around them. Huh?? I know water is fluid, but, uh, whatever.

This as-yet untitled moon project may not be the cerebral comedy I still hope Jake will find, but it does have potential. Action flicks have heroes. Sam Hall was a terrific teenage geeky genius lovestruck hero, even if he did start by burning the books instead of the furniture (I never understood that). What kind of role will Jake have in this thing? One of the colonists? He's obviously the lead, as he's the only one cast so far. I can't object to Jake wanting to do another blockbuster, if that's what this will be. He's got to cut loose once in a while and just do something that makes him jump up in the screening room and yell, "This movie rocks!" But we don't know enough yet to say that this is that. What we know is that Jake has gone from nothing (officially) in the works to busiest man in the world again. Obviously that nice summer vacation did the trick.

Incidentally, I love little convergences like this. Mark Bowden is better known as the guy who wrote Black Hawk Down, who exchanged this correspondence with Anthony Swofford.

That brings me back to my other concern, and this is a big one. It stems from the comment that Bowden "did a complete reconception of the story and will pen the screenplay." Stories that have to be completely re-written don't inspire much confidence in me. But of course I must reserve judgment. Jake thought it was good enough to attach his name to it, and that's encouraging. Plus if it ends up as total shit, we know Jake will not hold back in telling them so.

All photos: IHJ.

Fallen

I am still feeling strangely wired, as if I'd had too much caffeine, despite my relative lack of sleep in the past 72 hours. Twice this weekend I discovered well after midnight that I had forgotten to eat anything for dinner, engrossed as I had been in my Jake activities. This is not healthy, and I'm the first to admit it. I am coming apart.

But it's not new, either. I've done it before, will do it again, no doubt. So while it's mortifying and pathetic, I recognize that it is also completely self-indulgent. I wanted to be lost in him, on whatever level, so I let it happen. Now I just have to see if I can make a go of the rest of my waking life while I try to crawl back to the surface for air.

Anyway, the good news in all this is that I did successfully get video out of my DVR, so Rendition Week will be available to those who need it from me. Not that I'm your only source, but a promise is a promise.

I don't feel comfortable talking about what caused my strung-out weekend Jake-bender, but I feel like it would be dishonest to withhold it, too. So much has swirled through my mind, I know it will continue to affect me for quite some time, possibly until the day I forget Jake Gyllenhaal (it will happen, if I live long enough, experience tells me).

Perhaps the most amazing thing is that, as if on cue, Jake has provided a strangely relevant quote to the media as part of his current Rendition promotion. Some Kentucky newspaper quotes him telling Fox News, "I don't hold it against people for wanting to know about our personal lives and reading all those magazines and what not."

Our world is in a very bad place at the moment, so I think it is only appropriate that people look to other things and have an interest in all the drama and happenings of celebrity lives, and I hope that at some point I can help the public sedate and escape what's really happening in the outside world.

Sedate is never a word I associate with my reactions to Jake, but I know he's talking about escapism, and of course that's something I can relate to, as my presence here makes obvious. The quote is probably from this interview, where Jake is asked again about extraordinary rendition, and also about working with actors and others from the varying nations that made up the cast and crew of that film.

His disarmingly benevolent attitude toward the public fascination with celebrity, and celebrity gossip, was neither predictable nor revelatory, though it was characteristic of his philosophical nature. Unfortunately, it also has triggered my protective instincts; I fear that every sleazy creep in the world will consider it an approbation, even an invitation to further probe, invade, stalk. I hope that beefy bald guy Jake tows around has at least one equally intimidating coworker. He's too fucking nice, and I'm so afraid for his safety and his privacy that I'm feeling invasive.

Babble, blather, I tend to run on when I have something on my mind that I don't necessarily feel good revealing. True confession time has come, and while most of the (30 or so) people who will ever read this may shrug or even laugh at the drama of my words, I think one or two will grok this.

I've made no secret of my opinion about fan fiction, and my own ambivalence when against my better judgment I found myself authoring some. Even less appealing than fanfic to me was the morally questionable subset known as RPS. I know in my rational mind that anyone reading these stories is aware it's fantasy, but the use of real people as characters seems abusive somehow.

How then do I explain my random decision last Friday, while bored out of my skull here at work, to seek out and indulge in the one thing I told myself I never would, the most salacious and egregious of fan manifestations? I don't. I can't. I've once again proved myself the queen of irony, my contradictions alive and well. I can tell you that I both regret it, and don't. I read the story that over the past year several friends had recommended to me, despite my protests, as the best. I read it, and I re-read it, and then I went and I found a sequel, and I read that, too. Then, hating myself already, depressed, and completely consumed, instead of moving on to find some distraction, I went and read another.

What the hell happened?

I can tell you it had nothing to do with the plots, which were fantastical, presumptive, and unoriginal--no offense to those authors, I don't mean their writing was bad. It was excellent, or I wouldn't be in this mess. Just that the tale they spun was not one in which I had any emotional investment. So why did I keep reading? And why do I feel raw?

In one word, Jake.

The growing realization that someone else's mental Jake was so completely identical to my own, so vivid, every conversation and action (apart from the plotline) ringing true despite the very fact that this was fiction, knocked all the wind out of me. Not just my Jake, anymore. This was evidence that the myth in my head is a bit more than that. I have spent hours digesting and analyzing this discovery. I can discuss the logical aspects, that we have all formed our image of him from the same sources, all that is publicly available, that I already knew this in large part from my interaction with the fandom. For whatever reason, that has not mitigated the impact of this weekend's reading. Holy shit, I tell myself, is it possible? Can anyone be this...everything that he is? The first author's Jake was funny, a tad immature at times, intelligent, but most of all, direct, and warm. I couldn't get enough. Later, as I tried to recover, I decided to read the comments on her journal by her readers, wanting to see how many other people had been sucker-punched by her Jake. I was perplexed to see only one or two comments that even remotely suggested the impact I had felt. What I did find, though, was her own revelation of her favorite story as a reader, and I'll be goddamned if I didn't go off immediately to find that one, too. Pathetic.

Both the first story and the last one shared a common point of view that certainly contributed to my vulnerability here; namely, that of the other person, the one completely enamored with Jake and feeling hopeless about it. This too was devastatingly authentic; perhaps my reaction is based in insane jealousy, the knowledge that someone else--no, fuck it, almost everyone else--has this longing, here translated into a story where it is embodied in another who would actually have access to Jake. The descriptions of that person's perceptions and responses to him, words I could have written or spoken, given the opportunity.

That's it, but that's enough. It makes no sense, that any of these things should be as an epiphany to me, but making sense is often overrated. I know these were stories, written by someone who no more knows the real Jake than I do. But he was so much my Jake, addictive, I could not stop. What have I done?

Before anyone asks, no, I do not plan to continue reading RPS, or fanfic. I remember having said that there would be no going back, and I do fear its draw, but this has got to stop. I lost an entire weekend, minus a few family hours (in which Jake was with me all the way), to indulgence, and I can't maintain my basic functions this way. It's unhealthy, it's disgusting, it's ridiculous, but most of all, it's too easy.

Fortunately, we shall have more real Jake in the immediate future, which I think will go a long way to bringing me back to health. Watching him be all those things I know he is, witty, charming, thoughtful--it's going to hurt in the way it always does, but it will be real, and if nothing else, I may feel cleansed.


Photo: IHJ.

Affliction

This, I confess
that I have been so afflicted
by a thought of you
I have sat awake these hours
slaving not to exorcise it
but savoring, for all the torture it brings.

Longing like this
impelled not by your face
--an image unparalleled
--but only the surface
of a profound beauty, so deep
it is beyond mere words.

How can anyone be all that you are?
How can I be satisfied by any less?


(Lame, but you should have seen what I wrote before this. No, on second thought, no one should ever see that.)

Photo: IHJ.

Whiskery wonder

Wow, that was quick. When I mentioned the other day that I'd like a transcript of the Los Angeles Rendition press conference, I didn't think I would get it. This seems to be a new trend for me. Perhaps I should causually comment that it would be wonderful if Jake Gyllenhaal showed up on my doorstep and asked me to marry him, but it's unlikely. We'll see if that one pans out.

Here, courtesy of the always helpful Wet Dark and Wild, is a transcript of all the discussion which wasn't spoiler-y in nature. For those who don't mind being spoiled, download and listen to the recording of the entire press conference, via Frosty at Collider.

Want pictures with that? Stephanie at IHJ took care of those, too.

More here. Could he be any more beautiful? Okay, so my random guess about when he would shave totally missed, but I don't care. At least he's keeping it trimmed for public appearances. Maybe he wants to look older. Maybe he wants to look less attractive (judging by the reactions of some people, it's working--but not for me). Maybe he thinks it disguises him a little. Maybe he just damn well doesn't feel like shaving it off yet. I'd have guessed he was keeping it for the purpose of his Iran So Far cameo, but he still had it as of Tuesday, when this picture was snapped.

Still waiting for Steph to get her hot little hands on the set, but I know she will in time. Anyway, Jake's beard does not bother me. I'll take him any way he comes.

All photos: IHJ, except that little pap shot.

Nervous yet?

I think I’m more nervous talking with David Letterman, because I know how smart he is, than I am because of all the people watching it. -- Jake Gyllenhaal in Interview, 10/07

TVGuide.com has listed an appearance by Jake on The Late Show with David Letterman for Monday, October 15. Let's hope that Dave can be bothered this time to learn what role Jake plays in Rendition, and that Paul Shaffer will say something just as silly as last time so Jake can zing him again. It should be the kickoff to a week full of Rendition promotion, not unlike the orgasmic leadup to Zodiac we enjoyed in February.

Jake's interviews are always a treat, though the fun factor depends on the interviewer. That's why it seemed odd to hear this entertaiment blogger call Jake's sense of humor "Hollywood's darkest secret." Huh? Since when is it a secret that Jake is extremely witty, with a natural sense of comedic timing? I'm not complaining, per se; Caroline Kepnes is gushing about how funny--and smart--our boy is, but does one really have to be obsessed to notice the qualities that led Brad Silberling to compare Jake to one-time comic icon Jerry Lewis during his commentary on Moonlight Mile?

She goes on to say that "That's why a brilliant, sophisticated comedy writer—like Woody Allen, Mike White, Julie Delpy or Nicole Holofcener—should pen a script for Jake." It's completely unclear from her statement whether she's aware that Jake already had roles in a White (The Good Girl) and a Holofcener (Lovely & Amazing) film.* I concede, those weren't written for him, but they weren't exactly my idea of lighthearted fare. Did she really think The Good Girl was funny? I thought it was tragic. Jake could definitely run away with a Woody Allen script, though, so I'm with her there.

Meanwhile, my number one thought while reading her post was, when do we get to see this press conference? I suppose it's too much to ask that it was recorded for later use, but I'd settle for just a transcript. When it comes to Jake doing press, I'm very greedy. I want it all.

*Edited to add: I know, she did acknowledge The Good Girl in the prior sentence. But her next statement made it sound like she was suggesting something wholly new. Bah, I'm medicated today.

All captures: IHJ.