Last week I met Mason Wyler for the first time. I work as a photo assistant to the still photographer for our movies. It’s amusing because I’m the photo editor, which means I’m the guy that decides what coverage we need from a shoot and then I play the role of the photographer’s “boy” on set. It’s a nice change of pace from a typical day at the office.

Mason was the first model scheduled for stills so it was early in the morning and we had yet to decide exactly how we would light/dress the set. Naturally I was stunned by Mason’s good looks, but in my business delicious guys you want to lick lunch off of are about as rare as Mukluks in Nome. No, it wasn’t until well into the shoot that I realized this guy was more than just another alarmingly hot slab of meat.

Permit me to digress for a moment. I have probably mentioned on several occasions on this site that I detest the term “porn star” because it is so overly and incorrectly used. Johnny is a porn star and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind about that. If you whip out your naughty on video that does not qualify you as a “star” in my opinion. And, frankly, my opinion matters. I see beautiful models, built models, models with incredible sexual energy and/or chemistry and any combination thereof. Johnny looks like a movie star, fucks like it’s the eve of the apocalypse and strategically cares for his body, which houses a golden heart and a thoughtful mind. That’s a star, baby! Now back to the story at hand.

As a porn consumer it isn’t easy to spot the guys that are packing attractive attributes off the scope of what’s visually appealing. After Mason dazzled me with his humor, dorky demeanor and surprisingly good repertoire of UK accents on the set I found my interest piqued. And let me tell you, sister – that doesn’t happen all that much these days.

In the afternoon we went out for coffee. I wasn’t interested in a warm beverage, I just wanted to spend some time with him. There, I said it! On the drive he explained to me that he wasn’t really into “the hip” and preferred older music and classic movies. I suppose this was somewhat inspired by the CD I was playing at the time. He said he really wanted to explore more great films from the not-so-distant past as well as sure-fire classics and it was all I could do to keep from pulling the car over and saying, “Move in with me. You’ll never have another dull moment!” If restraint was an Olympic event, I would be a gold medalist. He must have thought it odd that I drove his ass five miles for coffee and didn’t even order anything for myself…

You may be wondering why I’ve bothered to bring all of this up and you’ll be happy to know I’m about to explain. In a period of my life when my priorities are sadly out of whack and I feel particularly bad about myself, having a very fictional crush on someone out of reach does a great deal to realign my focus. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but in the week that has passed since that shoot I’ve found myself thinking about “me” more and how I’ve been in an abusive relationship with myself for months. There isn’t a whole lot I can do about my current situation, though acknowledging my toxic “lifestyle” is certainly a step above trying to make my hamster wheel turn faster. (Didn’t think I could work that in didja, Johnny?)

If you were a fan of Mason Wyler before, I’m here to tell you that your fantasies are more than justified. If you have no idea who the hell he is then read his Wikipedia page. You’ll be impressed. He brought a pleasant ray of sunshine into an otherwise dismal May for me and I’m certain he can do the same for you – even from a distance.

Last January, through a strange chain of events not important to this story, I found myself on somebody’s MySpace page *gasp* that featured Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap. I was already a HUGE fan of Frou Frou at the time and even before I knew who the artist was I was completely taken by the sweet longing and thoroughly unconventional sound of the track.

The boyfriend I broke up with the month prior was also a huge Frou Frou fan and even though I had no desire to grease the lines of communication with him I sent him the song in an e-mail with the subject “In Case You Don’t Already Have This”. He replied to let me know he really liked the song and went on with a very nice speech about wishing me well in all that I do, etc. It was extremely difficult for me to let it end there, but these things happen and that isn’t what this is about anyway.

Several months earlier, America was exposed to this song at the climax of the season two finale of The OC – a show I never watch and pretend doesn’t exist.

In the 24 hours that followed that episode Hide and Seek was purchased from the iTunes store 20,000 times.

In the months that followed I could not get enough of this song or many of the other amazing tracks from the Speak For Yourself album. Then I was blown away when Mia Michaels choreographed the group dance to Hide and Seek for the eighth episode of So You Think You Can Dance last summer; the only episode I was unable to watch live.

Two weeks ago during a disorienting period of inactivity at the office I came across a blog entry about a remix of Hide and Seek with an audio sample. It was actually good, which surprised me because the nature of the track seemed to defy adherence to a dance beat (something that was clearly illustrated in the numerous other attempts I have heard). I found the site of the DJ responsible for the remix and found it was available for download. Result!

Here is a sample of the original version taken over by the outstanding remix by Randy Boyer.

Last summer I discovered a real gem in my music library. I have no idea how it came to be there, but boy was I ever pleased with its discovery. Naturally I sent it to Johnny immediately thinking he would be just as thrilled as I was. Listening to this mix made me want to dance so I borrowed a camera from work and made a little dance video. My intention was to have Johnny do the same in Boston so I could combine them for a “duelling dance” clip.

When I pestered him for his contribution he admitted that he wasn’t very enthused by the track. Are you kidding me? Anyway I was totally bummed because I had already edited my bit with spaces for him to be included. I wasn’t about to post of video of just me, I mean, who cares? Well screw that because I happen to like the video no matter how horrific it may be to watch myself dance. Besides, I’m planning a major remodel of my hideous apartment and this makes for an excellent “before” example.

So take a moment and watch what happens when music and copious amounts of liquor inspire me during the hottest week of the year – much to my roommate’s dismay.

People may scoff at my love of dance music, but there is more to dance remixing than many might think. Making a good pop song into a dance anthem is an art; making a crap song into something divine is, well, pure artistry. When I first heard the remix of the theme from Titanic I very nearly wept. Granted, that song was a VERY guilty pleasure of mine at the time, but to take a sweet song of desperate longing and make it work on the dance floor without sacrificing the soul is pure brilliance to me. Such is the case with the song featured here today.

I have been fascinated with Björk since the Sugar Cubes days. Her music doesn’t always make sense to me and it may often be over my head, but she is a visionary blazing a trail that few dare to follow. This particular song was miraculously remixed into a trance fantasy from a very simple ditty. Listen to the original melt into the remix.

Björk – The Anchor Song

And for good measure….

Celine Dion – My Heart Will Go On

Sometimes I marvel at the elaborate lengths I will go to in order to avoid an unpleasant task. Why just this morning I was about to start working on something when suddenly I found myself reading up on my home town of Kodiak. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the native people of that island had male concubines!

The Koniagas had been studied by European explorers, who marveled at their practice of male concubinage: “A Kodiak mother will select her handsomest and most promising boy, and dress and rear him as a girl, teaching him only domestic duties, keeping him at women’s work, associating him with women and girls, in order to render his effeminacy complete. Arriving at the age of ten or fifteen years, he is married to some wealthy man who regards such a companion as a great acquisition. These male concubines are called Achnutschik or Schopans.

This discovery led me to further research about people between the sexes (and killed a good hour of time to boot). The result of my findings? Our civilization is one of the few that has persecuted gays. I knew native Americans thought of homosexuals as people with two spirits, but it turns out that many primitive cultures revered those between the sexes.

I often find myself frustrated by the snail pace at which our race seems to develop. It didn’t occur to me that we might be going backwards! To think that thousands of years ago multiple genders were perfectly acceptable and these days a man can’t even wear a taffeta ball gown without getting looks at the bus stop!