Fat Girls, Amnesia: The James Brighton Enigma, and George’s welcome back…

At around noon, Robert dropped me off at Helios, where I worked on Friday’s and Saturday’s blog entries while he went to the Y.


We left for the Carolina Theater, where we had tickets for two NCGLFF movies today — Fat Girls and Amnesia: The James Brighton Enigma.

Fat Girls

Movie Synopsis: Fat Girls is an off-beat coming of age dark comedy that focuses on the relationship between a high school senior, theater-loving Rodney Miller and his best friend Sabrina who are both considered ‘outcasts’ at their small-town Texas high school, he for his sexuality and she for her weight. Both eventually find outlets for their insecurities. Sabrina makes a love connection with Rudy Jackson, a Cuban refugee who was adopted by an African-American family. Rodney’s dreams are realized with the encouragement of his theater teacher Mr. Cox. The story explores the difficulties of growing up in small town America, with humor and humility.

This movie was good, but not great, and not near as “hilarious” as a few people had reported. I wanted it to be better. The thing that kept me “in it” was that I found the main character likable.

There were a few too many “holes” in the plot for me — the mother not reporting the conversation she overheard between her son and a teacher to the school, for one; “Joey” (was this his name?) just “leaving” Rodney at the club he took him to, for another; and the consequences of the closet door opening into the room full of, presumably, Sunday School kids, for a third).

The ending went right over my head, as I didn’t even recognize who it was in the bed with Rodney. I had some confusion between the character in the Sunday School classroom closet, Rodney’s cousin, and Mr. Seymour Cox. I also thought that his name being Seymour Cox was quite trite.


Amnesia: The James Brighton Enigma

Movie Synopsis: Inspired by real events, Amnesia – The James Brighton Enigma tells the story of an American found naked and amnesiac in a vacant parking lot in Montreal in 1998. He says his name is James Brighton, but the only thing he’s sure of is that he’s gay. Volunteers from S.O.S Gay organize a media campaign to help him recover his forgotten past. But after three months, no one has claimed him, and James starts to despair. Until the Montreal Police arrest him after his brother, a Pentecostal minister in Tennessee recognized him on TV. What happened to this young American in search of freedom? That’s what Sylvie, a criminology student, tries to find out a year later, as her fascination with the case brings her to question her own identity.

I found this movie both intriguing and compelling. It really made me think about what makes up one’s identity, and what it would be like to have to “start over” if you did get amnesia.

I also thought it did a good job of making the viewer question James’/Matthew’s credibility, as the characters playing the people in his life, and working on his case, did.


After the movie, I stopped by Flex to “George’s Welcome Back Party.” I’m not exactly sure what criteria makes a party “official,” but I’m thinking it’s more than a platter full of cupcakes. I’m just saying.

The “party” aside, it was great to see George, and he looked good. He mentioned that three months in NYC is really not enough, which made me think that it’s only a matter of time before he heads back.

At a little after 11:00, Kevin (av8rdude), Eric (innoman), and Eric’s friend James arrived. I’d met James last year some time when he visited Eric up here then. He’s a nice guy.

It was pretty much “twink night” though, with the exception of me and Kevin, as later this really, quite pubescent looking guy who I’ve seen at karaoke on several occasions and have always wondered if he’s even 18, much less 21, migrated into the group (mostly because James was interested in him), and even later, I believe it was Brant (one of Kevin’s exes), joined us. It’s hard for me to keep these guys apart, because they all look the same to me — 18-22, blond, thin as rails, and with hairless bodies.

That is just Kevin’s type, so it was no problem for him. I found myself looking around for some men. And feeling just a little cranky. The fact that I was drinking only ginger ale probably didn’t help things.

Against my better judgment, I walked with the crowd over to Legends. I walked a little ahead of the group, and in their drunken revelry, someone said, “Why are you way up there, and walking so fast?”

I retorted, “I’m just walking soberly. This is what it looks like.” Bitter party of one; your table is ready.

After receiving change for a five instead of the ten I’d given him, and setting the doorman straight (as it were), I left The View and went into Legends to see the show, which was already in progress.

I was standing in the back, alone, against a bar, and these two guys who had been at Flex earlier, who Brian (brianrdu) knew, came and stood to the left of me.

After about two minutes, one of them accidentally knocked a half-full beer bottle off the bar, which landed on the floor facing me and proceeded to spray my left leg, sock, and shoe.

No, “Oh, excuse us,” or “I’m sorry,” nothing. The one did manage to bend his fat ass over and pick up the bottle at least.


I left before the show ended, and with my car reeking of beer, I thought, “How ironic if I were to get pulled over tonight, when I’ve had absolutely no alcohol at all. The cop would say, ‘Mr. Martin, you smell of beer; please get out of the car.’ And I’d have to say, ‘Officer, I’ve had absolutely no alcohol at all tonight, but perhaps you’d like to test my sock.'”

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