Tag: Ode to Billy Joe

Morning Good Morning

Sunday morning and I slept late, which is fine, really. I keep forgetting that sleeping in on my days off isn’t a criminal act of any kind. After so many years of keeping myself overly busy and so I was always behind on deadlines and so forth, I’ve kind of gotten into the insane mindset that sleeping late is a waste of time that could be better utilized, writing or cleaning or reading. I do have some things I need to get done today–mostly running to the store to get the things i need to make a carrot cheesecake for a co-worker’s birthday tomorrow–but if i manage my day properly, I should be able to get things done.

I spent yesterday running errands, and trying to get things cleaned up around the house while dipping into two books–The Berlin Stories by Christopher Isherwood and Ode to Billy Joe by Herman Raucher. I ordered the latter from ebay after I started doing my research into Robby Benson for the post I made about the crush I had on him as a teenager; realizing the movie script and novel were written by Herman Raucher made me interested in reading the book, as well as wondering about Summer of ’42, and so I ordered copies of each. Billy Joe arrived yesterday, and I was curious about it. Usually novelizations were work-for-hire arrangements and the author used a pseudonym; some are better than others, of course, but just reading the first chapter of Billy Joe I can tell it’s head-and-shoulders above most novelizations, and it’s probably more thorough in telling the story than the movie was, which has me interested. I’ve also been thinking about The Berlin Stories lately, after watching the film Christopher and His Kind, and may revisit it again, too, for Pride Month; Isherwood is one of the literary gods of the gay canon, and the opening sentences of Goodbye to Berlin are perfect for parodying in the prologue to the next Scotty. I still have to finish my reread of Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes, and I think I’m going to bump the new John Copenhaver up on my TBR list. It is Pride Month, and I should immerse myself in queer lit for the month, don’t you think, Constant Reader?

I also want to write about Summer of ’42 at some point. Like The Other, it was an early read that was very influential on me, and one I often don’t think about when I do think about influential works I’ve read or make a list. I really do need to sit down and identify the books that really impacted me and the way I write; The Other, Summer of ’42, and so many, many others. I also want to write today; I didn’t really yesterday, but I did spend some time yesterday doing research; i.e. watching Youtube videos on the Oklahoma true crime story that fascinates me still, as well as ones that review the 1970’s and pop culture and what was going on those early years of the decade, which is when the book will be set. I think I am moving in a more historical direction rather than writing about the current day; Never Kiss a Stranger is set in the 1990s (1994, to be exact) and of course The Summer of Lost Boys is going to be set in either 1972 or 1973; I can’t decide which, although I suspect 1973 is going to end up being the winner when I finally have to decide.

We finished Under the Bridge last night, and it’s most excellent; I highly recommend it. Based on a true crime novel about the Reena Virk murder in Victoria, British Columbia back in the 1990’s, Reena was beaten badly by a group of girls–some she thought were friends–and then after the others left her broken and injured and bleeding along the river bank, a boy and a girl came back and basically, finished her off. The show reminded me a lot of Megan Abbott’s work; Abbott always writes about the mysterious world of female relationships, female rage and jealousy, and that’s what Under the Bridge does so beautifully. The acting is extraordinary; a real standout is Javon Walton as Warren, the young boy who kills Reena. Walton is very handsome in that young way, and I looked him up because the performance was so extraordinary, and turns out he also played Ashtray on Euphoria, who was one of my favorite characters on that show. Do watch it when you get a chance. I’m going to get a copy of the book now, too. Yay, more things to read! Just what I need!

We also started The Acolyte, but I was sleepy by the time it started and kept dozing off. No judgment on the show, I was just tired.

And on that note, I think I’ll head into the spice mines. I’ll probably finish the dishes this morning while making a grocery list, and then I’ll dash to the store and get gas. I may even finish one of these other Pride blog drafts, so have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

Ode to Billy Joe

Robby Benson. Swoon. I mean, LOOK at him.

Eat your heart out, David Cassidy!

I don’t know when I first became aware of one Mr. Robby Benson, but I do know he was a major crush of mine when I was a teenager–he and Jan-Michael Vincent–and I also think he’s another one of those who definitely helped create a type for me; dark hair and bright blue eyes, and that smile! Jesus Mary and Joseph!

ODE TO BILLY JOE, Robby Benson, 1976

I wasn’t alone in my teen years crushing on Robby; I think most teenaged girls of my generation all had a bit of a crush on him. For one, he was ridiculously beautiful; it kind of should be against the law to look that good. He was also photogenic and telegenic, and I loved his speaking voice. I know my teen years are also when I developed my love of jeans cut Daisy Duke short; and as you can see from the pictures above, Robby’s were cut so short they were basically speedo-sized. Years later, Daisy Dukes were my favorite shorts to wear, because all modesty aside, I’ve always had muscular legs; assets best displayed in shorts cut immodestly short.

But in looking up information on Robby Benson for this post, I realized I had never seen the movie Ode to Billy Joe, which was one of his best-known films. I knew about the movie, of course, but never saw it. It was released the summer we moved to Kansas and it never played in Emporia, and I never saw it on television, either. So, yesterday, I remedied that by watching it on Youtube, which has the entire movie uploaded for free.

The movie itself is simple. Based on the story song by Bobbie Gentry that is probably one of the biggest and best-known hits of all time, it’s ethereal and mysterious and unclear; and the lyrics themselves create an indelible image of a rural Southern lunch and the casual, unknown to anyone speaking, cruelty of the conversation. The narrator had a strong connection to Billy Joe, and his suicide affects her deeply, but nobody really notices. It’s genius in exposing that Southern mentality of “the girls don’t matter”–no one’s noticed that she is connected to him in some way, no one notices that she’s upset, and the way Gentry sings the lyrics is so matter-of-fact yet horrible as she recounts an emotionally troubling experience for herself, and paints such a powerful image of the invisible daughter, left to grieve on her own for the boy she loved, and does she know the reason he jumped? I’ve always liked the song, even if it doesn’t work for me musically (the lyrics don’t match the melody), because it tells so many truths about rural Southern girls that what actually happened isn’t the point–the point is the isolation and loneliness she feels, and the alienation from her own family.

The movie, screenplay and novelization by Herman Raucher of Summer of ’42 fame, fleshed out all those mysteries. It was from the movie and book that turned Ode to Billy Joe into a queer story and a tragedy; it’s also interesting that it wasn’t more of a scandal when the movie was released in 1976; maybe him having had a sexual encounter with another man and committing suicide took the sting and shock of the gay twist; after all, misery and suicide were the only possible outcomes for most queers in movies at the time. Watching the movie, but taking away my own quibbles about its depiction of southern rural life to talk about it as it stands as a queer film, it was really quite revolutionary. First of all, Robby Benson was a full-fledged teen heart throb with photo shoots in every magazine like 16 and Tiger Beat, and having someone who didn’t telegraph gay (or the societal images of what gay looked like then) who was also a heart throb playing the part was putting an acceptable face on a (at the very least) bisexual character. What was also interesting to me about the film was that it was produced by Max Baer (aka Jethro from The Beverly Hillbillies), and the man Bobby Joe had the encounter with was played by James Best, who would go on to greater celebrity and fame as Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane on The Dukes of Hazzard later on in the decade. Glynis O’Connor is fine as Billie Lee (seriously, Bobby Joe and Billie Lee? I have an army of relatives from the rural south, and out of all of them there is exactly ONE who has that stereotyped Southern two first names thing), but Benson’s appeal is clearly on display here–and I understand why girls loved him so much: he always played sensitive and vulnerable young men, which girls love.

And he is just stunningly beautiful in this movie.

Benson’s most successful role of all time was, ironically, from voice work: he voiced the Beast in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.

I also found it interesting the Bobby Joe committed suicide in the Tallahatchee River, which was also where the white supremacists dumped Emmett Till’s body…so that river is kind of hexed, wouldn’t you think?

He also aged incredibly well–Benson is still quite beautiful.

American Pie

Saturday! Woo-hoo!

Yesterday was an odd work-at-home Friday. Our power went in and out a few times during the day, and that threw everything off–laundry, work, plans for the day. But it did gradually and eventually all get finished in the end so Paul and I could spend the evening riveted by Under the Bridge. We only have two episodes left and it’s soooo good, and so delightfully queer-which was a delightful and unexpected surprise. Lily Gladstone continues to own the screen, and I can’t wait to see the final two tonight when Paul gets home from tabling at Pride for Saints and Sinners.

I slept really well last night, which was marvelous. I woke a bit later than I originally had intended, but that’s okay. I want to get some more cleaning done around the house this morning before I take books to the library sale, pick up the mail, and make groceries; then I intend to get some more writing done today. I did some more thinking about it last night before Paul got home, and I think I almost have the voice right. I also did some more research while he was at the gym–nothing like reexamining pop culture and the news during a distant time period (note to self: TV Guide archives must be checked as well), because it brings back memories, which also helps put me in the right mental place to write and create the story. I also kind of know how the story is going to go, and I also came up with another idea for the beginning, which I also really like. (I just had one of those imposter syndrome moments, where my brain suddenly panics and thinks, that isn’t going to work. Sometimes I really hate my brain…

During one of the power outages yesterday I decided to use the time productively and walked to the gym to do rehab exercises. It made sense when I thought about it–I mean, without power or Internet I can’t work, so utilize the time, right?–but after getting damp with sweat walking over there on a “feels like 105” afternoon, sweating more during the rehab exercise, and getting soaked with sweat walking home to a house without power that was getting hotter wasn’t perhaps the wisest choice? The power was still out for about an half hour or so at that time, so I took a very quick shower while the apartment began cooling down again and felt ever so much better. I also don’t feel exhausted or tired this morning, so maybe physically I am beginning to get back my stamina and getting back to normal, which is terrific. I was starting to worry that I was never going to do so, and I am nothing if not incredibly impatient.

I also watched Ode to Billy Joe yesterday (the film is on Youtube for those inclined to watch it again) because I’d been looking into Robby Benson for a Pride post, as he helped me understand that I liked men instead of women–so, so beautiful–and I realized I’d never watched this movie….and the movie, it turns out, is what fleshed the song out to give us a reason why Billy Joe jumped off the bridge; he’d been with a man, and the shame drove him to it because it was such an ugly thing to be that suicide made the most sense as an option. I’d heard the theory that he killed himself for being gay before, but didn’t realize it came from the movie…and the novelization of the script was written by Herman Raucher, who’d also written Summer of ’42, a coming of age novel and movie that were also kind of formative for me. Looking into it, it was released in the summer of 1976. We moved to Kansas that summer and the movie didn’t play locally, and I’d never watched any of its television airings. Anyway, the movie was interesting but there were lots of parts to it that didn’t play well for me today–I am always prickly about the way films have rural Southern people talk–but keep an eye out for my Robby Benson post if you’re interested in him.

I do feel good this morning, which is nice. I’ll go get cleaned up in a bit, but am going to work on either entries or the prologue this morning. I also plan on doing some rereading of my own work today–I am definitely moving Never Kiss a Stranger to the top of the to-write pile, because I am not entirely sure about the y/a I want to turn from novella into novel; I’m not entirely sold on the plot, to be honest. I also want to work on the kitchen this morning, too; I did buy the wrong vacuum cleaner (mine is a rug cleaner; so I can put water and shampoo in it to clean the carpets too, but it does work as a very powerful vacuum, so I’ll go ahead and use it–and maybe next weekend, I’ll clean the Oriental rugs with it.

Yesterday the right, through The Federalist, decided to come for Dolly Parton and basically call her a false prophet and a “danger” to Christianity. The recovering alcoholic who wrote the hit piece, Ericka Andersen, is about what you’d expect: a self-righteous born-again Christian who thinks she knows the faith better than anyone who ever lived or ever will live, which of course is apostasy, but she’s a soulless troll who got the attention she wanted. Andersen’s social media is now completely shut down as she is in the find-out phase of coming for Dolly. Dolly has not only given the world decades of amazing music and entertainment, she is also one of the most generous people alive, using her money and her fame to do good works in the world and is always kind and understanding and sympathetic; the woman literally loves everyone even her harshest critics. If ever there was an example of what it is like to truly follow the Christian path, it’s Dolly Parton–but you know, giving kids free books, donating millions of dollars to charity every year, and her incredible generosity to her employees at Dollywood? Sorry she won’t condemn people you don’t like, cosplay Christian piece of shit. And for the record, Megan McCain is married to the head of the Federalist Society–which is all anyone needs to know about what utter and complete garbage they are.

Seriously, they’ve come for Taylor Swift and now Dolly. Next thing you know they’ll come for Cher–which is something I would love to see them try.

And on THAT note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, and I’ll be back later, okay?