Pfunksfoolosophy

Hey gang!

You’ll never guess what I did recently…no, I didn’t get a pedicure…yikes.

Nope, didn’t win the lottery. (oh, if only)

I had a lovely chat with one of my absolute favorite columnists, Michael Musto.

He’s a columnist for The Village Voice, which is one of the premier underground/independent newspapers in the country. It’s been a particular favorite of mine since high school because I really thought that I would one day live in New York’s Greenwich Village as a starving, but fabulous artist.
Little did I know that I would be a starving artist…not so fabulous and definitely not living in the now very, very tony Greenwich Village. (doggone hipsters and celebrities!)

Back to the real story here– Michael Musto. His column covers the entertainment beat and it’s usually filled with wit and insight with a good dose of some honest to goodness intelligent cattiness. He’s been writing for The Voice for over 20 years and I’ve always enjoyed what he’s written, even if I may disagree with some of his opinions; at least he makes you think while you’re chuckling.

Since I couldn’t transcribe the entire interview due to my lack of even rudimentary typing skills, I will give you the Reader’s Digest version of my conversation with the man who puts the ‘dolce’ in la dolce musto.

Here’s how it all began: I sent him an email requesting an interview, but part of me thought that a busy and in demand/in the know type like Michael Musto would probably brush me off with a ‘thanks but no thanks, sister’.

 I wish you guys could have been in my apartment when I saw the email from him. My mouth hung open (and not just because I am an allergy induced mouth breather) and my eyes widened. Could it BE, dear diary? Yep. And the man is nothing if not pro-active. He sent me his office number and asked if it would be okay to do it over the phone. What a guy!
Of COURSE…then I thought about how unprepared I was. My plan was to send him questions and then have him answer them and return it via email. Nope, he was agreeable to actually speak with me. Whoa, Nellie…getting what I want is something I’m unaccustomed to, but I forged ahead.

I must confess, I may have giggled as I punched the numbers into my mobile phone.

(that finicky contraption that seems to drop calls at the most inconvenient times)

  It rang, I requested his extension and off we went…Michael’s voice is soft and gentle, which was sort of surprising to me since I suppose I pictured a voice like my uncle Chooch’s…you know, sort of whiskey and cigarette smoke tinged. He put me at ease immediately by actually agreeing to be interviewed and was gracious and kind. It’s nice to know that there are still folks out there who have kindness in them, no matter their notoriety.I told him that  I was unprepared and he told me that he would speak slowly. (just like in Auntie Mame)Anyway…first things first:How’d he get his start?

Mr. Musto started out the only Italian kid in a Brooklyn neighborhood. His playmates were onscreen—Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor to name a couple of great actors from back in the day.

It seems young Michael was a film critic even then. He would return from the movie theater and review what he’d seen, writing the reviews on index cards. That’s sweet, isn’t it?
Very organized and journalist-like at such a young age… I felt instant kinship as I used to pretend to guest host the Mike Douglas Show. Our guests usually included Rex Reed and Liza Minnelli.

As Michael grew older, he began writing plays. He expressed to me that he has always known that he wanted to be a writer. His favorite authors range from Stendahl, Dickens and Shakespeare to Wolfe and Rex Reed (you know, you’ve gotta love that guy). This is guy is legit. He knows his stuff. It made me happy to know that he really loved films.

Back to the action: Mr. Musto wrote for the Spectator, started sending his clips around to indie papers; freelancing until he found his home at the Village Voice.

He’s led a sort of charmed life when you think about it, but he’s got the writing talent to cause you to stop yourself before you begin to hate him for his good fortune.

Awards shows are a particular favorite for him-he calls them ‘The Gay Olympics’.

That laughed me. I’m not a fan of awards shows, BUT he made me see the light.

It’s all about the entitled getting jerked around emotionally. I can get down with that for at least a little while.

I asked him about the state of cinema today and he had solid opinions, which I will divulge in my next post.
This one was long enough.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 16th, 2007 at 10:28 am and is filed under Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.