Scavengers!!!

It was a pretty full weekend, of sorts. So full in fact that I haven't been bothered to write about it.

And I still can't be.

I'll show you the photos instead. They were pretty much all collected during "Pursuit 2006", a Melbourne-wide scavenger hunt organised by Andrews' housemate, Shaun.



There were also bouts of skinny dipping and nipple clamping photographed but some things should to be left to the imagination.

Tags: Melbourne, photos, friends

Bush Shafted!

Okay, this seems to have happened a while ago but it is still immensely amusing.

Stephen Colbert was asked to speak at the Whitehouse Correspondents' Association Dinner and, with President Bush in attendance, he let loose what can only be described as a tirade of abuse at the current administration, their wives and the press at large.

The funniest thing is to watch the stunned audience as they realise that behind all of the jokes Colbert is being quite openly vicious. The I-don't-believe-he-just-said-that expressions are priceless.



You can see the second part of the address here.

Tags: humour, politics, Bush

Dated Diary: May Burst

More shennanigans from the past.

If you haven't been following, I'm back in the desert, cherry free, left to obsess about getting some more sexxx (and this entry proves how little there was to obsess about). At the same time, my friend and co-worker was spending her time obsessing about getting some sexxx with me.

One of the biggest regrets in my life was how I went about telling Tuesdee I was gay. At the time I had become reasonably sure that she had fallen for me and so I thought it best for her to reveal that to me before I came out to her, rather than having it left unspoken and festering under the carpet.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

And I have looked back many times and tried to figure out what I was thinking.

If only I could invent a time machine.

12 May (very early...)
I don’t know if I have said anything about Tuesdee and her growing affection for me, well maybe hinted a little, and how it was all turning into a bit of dé ja vu, a la Jo Reilly (who I never heard from again). Well tonight I forced her (you know, in my nagging persistence) to tell me her feelings purely so I could put an end to all her frettings. It was surprisingly easy and so far he hasn’t done anything drastic. We talked for an hour or two afterwards and discussed some stuff, nothing too in-depth and then (just then actually) she went home. Talk about a weight off the chest but I am sure it hasn’t ended yet. Anyway someone in Jigalong knows now...

Oh and I saw The Object of My Affection the other night when I was in Perth and I just fell in love with it purely because the two guys in it had the kind of relationship that I am looking for (so really it was fairy tale stuff). The guys on the Movie Show bagged it pretty much saying that the characters were unrealistic and the plot unbelievable but it just spoke to me and I am just dying to see it again.

And then on Saturday night I saw the Whitlams and they were fucking awesome and I want to see them again as soon as possible. It was such a great night out, even if the club had a shooter called a Poofter’s Stool (real class in a glass).

13 May 1998
So May is turning out to be a bit of a corker for entries so far, I wonder how long I can keep this up for. Just two things today, the first down to earth and the other just a little bizarre in terms of life experiences.

Well down on earth Tuesdee doesn’t seem to have taken the news as well as she looked to have the other nights, so far she has burst into tears in front of Justin for “no reason” and all today she has been a bit of a bitch, well as much of a bitch as she can be- she is trying really hard. The way she is coping is really strange, plus she says that I don’t know where she is coming from and if you get down to it I really don’t... She took ages to tell me that she liked me and then as soon as she did I told her that I was gay. So what has she lost? Nothing, we weren’t together before and we aren’t together now so she hasn’t lost anything on that score.

Sure she says she is upset (because she didn’t gain what she had hoped for) but she also says that she is angry and that she hates me a little bit! Why? I didn’t do anything wrong and the situation was hardly under my control ...we will have to come back to this some other time because I am really tired and I still have to write about the dentist (no I will do that tomorrow too!!!)

14 May 1998
The dentist... well he is not gorgeous but there is something about him which is just stunning and for the first time in my life when I first saw him I felt instantly attracted to him in some strangely irrational way. That was all very well and I let it go because he was just out here for a day like all the visitors to this place and I think I only saw him once that day and in the end I didn’t think of him again (well not that much anyway).

And then the whole deal became stranger because when I got to school early the next day he was sitting on the back step of house having a cup of tea (in hindsight it probably wasn’t him) and I was just amazed that he was still in Jigalong and I was pissed off that I didn’t talk to him more the day before and then the kids said that he was over at the hospital and I just wanted him to walk in the door. It was too strange, just wishing someone to walk back into my life and just feeling some strange sense of loss that he wasn’t there, just staring out of the door, waiting. And then he walked in and my heart missed a beat, I don’t even know his name for fuck’s sake. I find myself thinking about the clothes I was wearing and the things I was saying and the way I was looking, all very exciting and scary if you know what I mean and of course you do because I am writing to myself.

Previous diary entries:
I Wanna Play
Confessions of an Amateur Melodramatist
Before I Sleep a.k.a. Diary Drowsiness
Goodbye 1996!!!
Back To The Bush
How Time Flies
End Of An Era
Kissy Kissy
Diary Tonic
Diary: Losing My Religion Virginity

Tags: diary, coming out, gay

"I had a dream..."

Did I just give away my age?

Tags: nostalgia, television, Australia

Six Word Sci-Fi

Sarsaparilla graciously points us in the direction of Wired's challenge to 33 sci-fi, horror and fantasy writers to fill the briefest of briefs: a 6 word short story á la Hemmingway's "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Some are inspired. A few favourites:

"Gown removed carelessly. Head, less so." - Joss Whedon

"It cost too much, staying human." - Bruce Sterling

"Computer, did we bring batteries? Computer?" - Eileen Gunn

"I’m your future, child. Don’t cry." - Stephen Baxter

Of course there is then the inevitable challenge to whip one up yourself. Here's mine, a condensation of a short longer story I have floating around in my brrrain.

"Am I being written, question mark." - Me

Come on, ante up!

Tags: writing, fiction, sci-fi

Suzuki: "John Howard is an asshole!"

While I was eating my lunch today, I managed to catch the the sting in the tail of Dr. David Suzuki's appearance at the National Press Club.

I am happy to misreport him as saying, "John Howard is an asshole!"

Of course, when he said it, it was in the following (heavily paraphrased) context:

Press Club Member: The press has recently reported blah, blah, blah... what do you think of that, Dr. Suzuki?

Dr. Suzuki: The only place I have heard about this is in the press and I do not trust you guys.

Press Club Member: *knowing, yet uncomfortable smile*

Dr Suzuki: No really, you guys have just listened to thirty minutes of my insightful and considered speech and you are going to reduce it into 6 inches of copy. If I said, and I am not actually saying it, but if I said, for example, "John Howard is an asshole!" I may get 10 inches. That is why I don't trust you.

Of course, it was clear from his eyes that he really was saying it. Bless!

Tags: media, Australia, environmental activism

Please Help!!!

I received this email the other day from this poor young girl whose father had died in a plane crash. She's got a shitload of money she wants to share with someone. I'm washing my hair so I can't help but I thought I would ask all of you just in case you wanted to.

If you do, perhaps you could donate some of the money back to her and suggest she invest in some grammar lessons.

Assalamualaikum

My name is Amina Hannah Hatleberg from America. I am the surviving Daughter of Dr. and Mrs Hatleberg who died as a result of plane crash of Alaska Airlines Flight 261 which crashed on January 31 2000. My family converted to Islam in 1998. When my late Parent were alive, my father deposited the sum of$8.5 Million (eight million five hundred thousand U.S. Dollars) with International Diplomatic service firm in south east Asia with purpose to invest the fund in Islamic foundation in Asia before death took him, The fund is still under safe keeping with the International Diplomatic firm in south east Asia, hence am contacting you to help me to achieve this project in your country.

Two years ago I fell sick and my doctor told me I had cancer, I had tried all my best to treat myself with every medical expert but there is no improvement. Currently my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next six months due to my cancer problems. Having known my condition, I decided to donate this fund to mosque, Islamic school authority or better Muslim individual that will utilize this money the way I instruct. I want this fund to be disburse to, orphanages, widows promoting the work of Almighty Allah, needies and to promote work of almighty Allah in your country. The Koran made us to understand that blessed is the hand that grivets. I took this decision because I don't have anybody left except Almighty Allah and my Father relatives are Christians and unbelievers. I don't want my Father hard earned money to be misused by unbelievers because I know he will be rejoicing in the bosom of Allah if this fund is spent to promote the work of almighty Allah. I don't want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly manner. That's the reason for taking this bold
decision. I am not afraid of death since I know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the heaven. I don't need any telephone communication in this regard because my health. With Allah all things are possible. As soon as I receive your reply I will instruct the DIPLOMATIC operation manager and my Father lawyer in London to furnish you with more details on how to receive this fund.

I will also instruct him to issue you a letter of authority that will empower you as the original-beneficiary of this fund. I want you and the Moslem to always pray for me because in almighty Allah I put my hope. My happiness is that I lived a life of a worthy Moslem. Whosoever that wants to serve Allah must serve him in spirit and truth. Please always be prayerful all through your life. And reply me through my e- mail address as delay in your reply will give me room in sourcing for another faith member for this same purpose. Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I stated here. As I am disabled and can not be able to move around and do much due to am presently very ill, I will really appreciate your urgent respond through my Email address as the internet is my only mean of communicating. Or through the help of a nurse here who is so kind to assist me in the hospital and taking care of me

Life's a bitch, no?

Tags: email, scam, funny

More Videogame Loving

Okay, this has been breaking pretty much everywhere (I sourced it at GayGamer via Towelroad so you've probably already seen it, I just thought it fitted nicely with the previous post).

Bullies and repressed homosexuality rings true. I've seen it in schools and I've seen it in the news. It is nice to see it pixelated in a videogame directed at an audience who could actually learn from it.

Kudos to the game's creators, Rockstar.

Tags: gay, videogame, bully

Bizarre Honours

The other day Fleshbot pointed me in the direction of a Japanese gay dating game entitled Absolute Obedience.

Gay dating game? Apparently, yes. According to the site, this is a man on man version of "bishouju games".

Huh?

Let the site explain:

In Japan, fully 25% of computer software published belong to a unique genre of game called "bishoujo games" ("pretty girl games"), which are usually a kind of love simulation game in which you try to become romantically involved with beautiful anime characters as the object of the game. As a rule, you have different girls you interact with as the story develops, with many different endings, one or several with each girl. They're very challenging and very interactive, with everything from lovable, goofy anime characters to romantic love and heartbreak to very erotic sex.

Hmmm, interesting. Or at least it would be if all of the boys didn't look like girls.

I am sure some of you are mildly amused by the very existence of these games but this is not the purpose of this post. On scrolling down the game's information page, I noticed that one of the characters is named after the German New Wave director, Werner Herzog (whom you may know from his recent documentary, Grizzly Man).



With a name like Herzog this most certainly is not a coincidence. Is this a case of some crazy writer picking out a pretty name or is it some kind of homage? Someone is going to have to purchase the game and investigate.

Takers?

Tags: queer, Japan, film

Hmmm, Cryptic

Tags: friends, photos

Head On (or, Loaded)

Christos Tsiolkas' first novel, Loaded was incredibly important to me when I was coming out. That might seem a little strange; I'm not greek, I didn't live in Melbourne and I wasn't into hedonistic drug taking. But it spoke to me on a masculine level. Ari was confused about the world like I was confused about the world. Back before I came out, I shared his nihilism.

Ana Kokkinos' film, based on Loaded was equally important to me because it starred my first gay love affair, Alex Dimitriades.

Looking back on the film now, I still see why I loved it but I also see its glaring flaws. I love the immigrant philosophy Kokkinos weaved into the film though now it seems quite heavy-handed. I found so much meaning in Ari's attachment to Shaun, but now that seems so superficial and underdeveloped. Worst of all though is the ending. Seeing Kokkinos' recent release The Book of Revelation it is easy to see that she favours the intellectual symbol over the depiction of the real and it is more than evident in final act of the film.

While it fits perfectly with the downtrodden, alley-sex, underground tone of the film it seems ridiculous now that Kokkinos didn't counterbalance all that bleakness with a more realistic view of the "out" gay world instead of strapping up everyone in 3 Faces with leather and adding a dark room, especially when the film was already about to step into "romantic" territory with Shaun's ridiculous protestation, "I think I'm falling in love with you, Ari."

In the end it is easy to walk away from Head On thinking Ari was quite right to be such a miserable cunt. Thankfully I managed to outgrow all that self-hating bullshit. It is a pity that some of us never do. And, I guess, it is comforting to know that Ari is always there, looking hot and reminding us never to go back.

Tags: gay, queer film, movie review

Lola Rennt (or, Three times a lady)

The poor bastards who meet me always get hit with a slew of my favourite films. Andrew is caught up in that at the moment. Feel sorry for him.

Run Lola Run. Me, I love it!

Andrew, he gave it 5 out of 10, but he said that was generous and that he did like it.

Boy has taste but he scrimps with stars.

Diary: Losing My Religion Virginity

Well, I suppose this is why I included my diary here on the blog. In know a few of my fellow bloggers are going through similar shit right now. So here is the payoff. Just joking.

When it came down to actually posting the gritty details I chickened out (don't worry, you're not missing much!) but the important stuff is there.

Interestingly, some of the most monumentous events of my life are foreshadowed in this diary entry. It is strange that the events that really shape you aren't always those you are concerned about at the time.

18 April 1998
It is bizarre how the passage of time seems to be disjointed in this diary, if I were motivated enough to write in it every day then the whole text would flow much smoother. Let’s just say that the opportunity arose last night and we did and there’s an end to it all, and a beginning.

It all started the same way, well not really... It all started similarly to before, toey, desperate, shy, self conscious guy comes down from up north looking for some r and r (and that little something more). Unfortunately this time he has one of his work mates tagging along for the ride, worse still the work mate doesn’t know this guy is gay, is female, is just as shy and self conscious and has a crush (bad word) on the guy (speculation sure but from reliable sources).

So here I am down in Perth and I still have to look after someone who enjoys as much as I do a good video and we drift into that horrible world of culture shock, preferring to sit on our arses rather than going out and doing things. Then comes Margaret River, a short stay in the beautiful south with Jo, Jana, Kate, Fleur and Tuesdee- it was all very chicky so you can imagine how I felt.

Side step if you don’t mind...

I don’t think I have committed into the microchip world the problems that have been rising in the staff at Jigalong. Don’t look at me I have very few gripes so it has nothing to do with me except that I end up being the one person that gets stuck in the middle because I am the only person who gets told nearly everything by nearly everyone, great situation- someone poisoned the altar wine. As it stands at the moment most of the staff have taken issue with Jo on some point or another, her attitude, her socialising habits, her communication skills whatever and there has been this swelling of discontent. On the other side, Jo thinks (or I thought she thought) that everything is peachy keen and sunny side up except she wants to start a relationship with George, Fleur’s recent ex, which I could see causing huge problems for her with just about everyone in her professional life.

Yeah so I asked permission from Tuesdee to let slip with some general comments to Jo and as it turned out it was in Margaret River when we were walking down to pick up some take-aways that we had the conversation... Jo asked me whether if I were her would I buy into the George Fleur situation (Haaah, George isn’t bad but no) and then I had my bit to say and pretty much shattered her evening, thank God that she had Jana, another principal there to talk to. But it is all out in the open now.

Two other major conversations came up that night, firstly I had a chat to my sister who hinted at Tuesdee’s thoughts and then admonished me about my virginity, well I suppose that that is all under the bridge now, but she did have some strange ideas, not new just strange. I love the way that straight people don’t think the whole attraction thing through when it come to same sex partnerships, it is always that one’s gay why aren’t you sleeping with him? Then it is like you say look there is a straight guy go and sleep with him and they are like, why should I, he’s not my type? Anyway the other conversation I had with Fleur about George and Jo and why they are in this mess at the moment. Eventually it turns out that they have gone a bit stale at the moment and she fancied someone else up in the Pilbara (someone in the remotes who is still here this year) which got her thinking, and I hope to God that it is not me, that would make three.

But enough of divulgences...

So we are back from Margaret River and instead of going to stay with Justin, Tuesdee has decided to take up my mother’s offer and to stay with us for the rest of the holiday, which is fine because she is really nice but she really won’t want to come out to the places that I want to go to. I sit in depression trying to figure out how I can get out and have some fun without hurting her feelings because she is so much like how I used to be. In the end I just say that I am going out to somewhere where she won’t like the music and be done with it.

First time ever I have been out without anyone to meet, except for Shane who said that he might pop his head in, so I was a little bit apprehensive. Just before I leave I get a call from Fleur, who I was supposed to meet up with but had pulled the pin, who wants to know where I am going and who with so she can meet up with me, and she is spun out that I am going out all alone.

I get a cab into Northbridge with spooky, weird looking guy and then prop myself up at the Divebar with a drink, hoping to God that someone will come up and talk to me so I don’t look like a complete fool, luckily someone did.

“Do you have any Aboriginal in you?” or at least that is what I thought he said, then he did sound incredibly amazed when I said no, so maybe I got it wrong.

So I met J.P. Steve, Paul and some other guy all from the U.K. and over here for some reason, the problem was they were all pissed as and straight but it passed the time. Then I saw Brad walk in, he didn’t seem to recognised me and went over to talk with some guy and some girl. Eventually he ended up standing next to me and must have noticed my staring at him and it finally dawned on him who I was and he ended up explaining about the phone call and how he thought that I was going out with Shane, who ended up standing on the other side of me at that very moment which I found immeasurably amusing.

We talked and talked and I slowly talked him around to thinking of spending the night which wasn’t hard the main thing was convincing him that he would get his apples at the end of the night (after the obligatory dance at Connies which I bargained up to one hour but I didn’t last that long because I just wanted to hit the sack). We ended up in the hotel Ibis on Murray Street and he just started up as I lay on the bed kissing me and rubbing my chest. He unbuttoned my fly and started feeling my cock which was already hard. It was such a weird sensation to have it actually happen and not to just imagine it. He was more understanding than I thought he would be given that it was my first time and he just went slowly and kept praising the hair on my body and the shape of my cock.

Edited for propriety's sake

Well that is all I am going to write for now, I guess I still have to write all the important stuff but that can wait for a while.

19 April 1998
So, the important stuff then. How did I feel? How did it feel? Did I like it? It is so weird and in a way I wish I had written of all this when I first came home from that night because what I feel about it now is so different to what I felt then.

I remember feeling like, Is that it!!! and Wow I wasn’t missing all that much!!! But then there is also this huge voice in my head saying, “I’ve had sex!!!”. Now I am thinking that I just want to go and do it all over again, but now with someone I find truly attractive and while I am a little more sober. I didn’t think that I was too pissed at the time but as I think back I must have been because a lot of the sensations had that drunken dullness to them and the whole event seems to have been sliced through with those blank feelings and time distortions. To do it all sober and with someone like say... Matt Damon (yeah I know, in my dreams) would be just divine.

Being penetrated was the least of my worries and actually I quite enjoyed it and penetrating was less threatening than I thought it would be but also a little less enjoyable but I am sure that was mostly due to the amount of alcohol in my system. See it always comes back to the alcohol, I am really going to have to pick up when I am straight so that I can truly test those waters.

22 April 1998
Ha, sometimes you have to laugh don’t you! I was with my father and my sister in the car driving out of the Police and Nurses building the other day and I actually saw Brad standing on the side of the road ready to cross. At first I thought that it can’t be but then I remembered the poor guy worked at the place. He was a suit. It was so strange seeing him in the daylight and out in the “real world”. At the time, as I was laughing quietly to myself, I thought I can’t believe I actually slept with that guy... He really is far less attractive when you’re sober.


Previous diary entries:
I Wanna Play
Confessions of an Amateur Melodramatist
Before I Sleep a.k.a. Diary Drowsiness
Goodbye 1996!!!
Back To The Bush
How Time Flies
End Of An Era
Kissy Kissy
Diary Tonic

Tags: diary, coming out, gay

Sunday In The Park...

"Thus goes everyone to the world but I, and I am sunburnt"
(Much Ado About Nothing II. i. 293-4)

We spent the most relaxing day in Edinburgh Gardens yesterday. A little too relaxing, a little too long.

And now we are paying for it in the strangest of places. Along with my chest and face, the right sides of my knees smart.

I also learnt that scar reducing silicone strips block harmful U.V. rays. Go figure!

I do tend to catch the sun early in the season. It probably has something to do with not remembering, even after all these years, that the sun burns when you sit in it unprotected, and by the time you notice it is too late.

Still, it was worth it. Very relaxing.

Tags: Melbourne, summer

Children Of Men (or, Things to do in Carlton when you're drunk)

It is refreshing to post on a movie release here in Australia when it hasn't as yet been released in the States. It is downright satisfying to post on an important and much anticipated film release here in Australia when the film is still two months from release in the States.

Good times.

I'm sure you've seen the trailer. All I can say is that the film delivers on everything it promised to deliver on. It delivers well. But there isn't anything mind-blowing going to jump out at you that you haven't been anticipating.

Clive Owen pouts and mumbles his way through the lead role, just as you expect him to; Julianne Moore is alluringly stern, just like you expect her to be; Michael Caine is brilliant as Michael Caine, just as you expect him to be; and Cuarón has crafted a solid, considered film with water-tight internal logic, just as you would have expected him to.

All that probably sounds like I'm down on the film. I'm not. It really does deliver. It is a solid film. It just isn't a blockbuster or a film of transcendental meaning. It is an interesting story, expertly told. Old skool film making.

Consider if you will the opening moments of A.I. (I know, I'm sorry to dredge up bad memories, but it'll be quick). Remember the four hours of exposition that William Hurt spewed at you so you could understand what was going to be going on in the film? There is none of that here. Cuarón does what Spielberg seems to have forgotten how to do; he chucks us into the middle of a world and lets us swim for ourselves. Nobody explains why women have stopped having children. Then, nobody would after 25 years. Nobody documents the globe's decline into anarchy. They don't have to. We can see it.

And nobody listens to new music. That is the beauty of the future, it is steeped in the past (though I doubt that anyone will be listening to Kula Shaker in the future). The world of Children Of Men feels real. It has the texture of a real future, which I suppose makes the vision all that much more harrowing. Of course, I would be surprised if in the future one drives to the Tate Modern/Battersea Power Station via The Mall.

Consider it recommended but with this caveat, I was drunk and fell asleep for around twenty minutes, only to awaken three minutes before the end of the film.

In other news, in checking if Michael Caine spells his name with an e, I found out this:

When Caine first became an actor, he adopted the stage name "Michael Scott". His agent soon informed him, however, that another actor was already using the same name, and that he had to come up with a new name immediately. Speaking to his agent from a telephone box in Leicester Square in London, Caine looked around for inspiration, noted that The Caine Mutiny was being shown at the Odeon Cinema, and decided to change his name to "Michael Caine". He once joked to an interviewer that had he looked the other way, he would have ended up as "Michael One Hundred and One Dalmatians".

There you go.

Tags: movie review, film

Soft Fruit (or, Lest We Forget)

Some of my favourite Australian films are the ones that slip into obscurity as soon as they finish their theatrical run. Soft Fruit is one of those films, in fact, even though it was selected for Sundance, Cannes and San Sebastian, Christina Andreef's feature only received a dvd release last year. It only took seven years. I have been wanting to see it again all that time.

To be honest, there is not all that much to the film. It is a simple tale of a mother who draws her family back home so she can spend her final days with them. It would be nothing without Jeanie Drynan (who you'll remember as the mother from Murial's Wedding). She is sublime. She brings such joy to her tragic trajectory into the next world. She defiantly thrusts her happiness on her children and forces them to live out her final fantasies. It is such an endearing portrayal and it worthwhile tracking down the film just for her performance.

The family dynamics, especially the duelling father and son, are both funny and deeply moving. Sacha Horler's rendition of Wuthering Heights is hilARious so make sure you catch up on the original before you stuff this film into your dvd player.

The comedy in the film is quite black owing to its realism and I think it touched home with my mother, who not so long ago went through a similar process with her father. One scene, where the mother and her son pop in to buy her burial casket prompted my mother to share a story about when she went with my uncle to pick out a coffin for Papa.

They pretty much both picked out the same coffin independently, an unadorned pine box. It was the second cheapest in the display room. When they asked each other why they'd chosen that particular casket they both answered simultaneously that Papa would have looked at it and said, "I can make something from that!"

Yeah, he was a bit of a character. If he ever saw someone reading the obituaries in the paper, he'd always ask, "Am I there yet?" He even asked it on his death bed.

It is nice to know his sense of humour lives on.

Tags: film, Australian cinema

Colour Like One Other

I find it strange that Sony went to all the trouble to promote the RSS feed to the news section on their Bravia site to let anyone who cared know as soon as electronically possible that their new advertisement had been released but then didn't bother to post an an article in the news section. Curiouser and curiouser.

No matter, the advert is here and it is pretty. It lacks the shallow focus and a decent soundtrack to make it a classic like its forebear but it is colourful.

70,000 litres of paint
358 single bottle bombs
33 sextuple air cluster bombs
22 Triple hung cluster bombs
268 mortars
33 Triple Mortars
22 Double mortars
358 meters of weld
330 meters of steel pipe
57 km of copper wire
1 generic classical overture

Click on the pic above to be whisked away to the colourful urbania of Bravia.

I'm Sony's bitch.

Tags: Bravia, Sony, advertising

Sweeny Todd Cast Is Burtony (plus bonus gay talkback)

I may be cured of my interest in Martin Scorsese but I still misguidedly hold out hope for every new Tim Burton film. This time around I am even more piqued (and terrified) because his next gruesome opus is going to be a film version of one of my favourite musicals, Sweeny Todd.

I was going to comment on the casting (as it stands, the film is populated by Burton regulars Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter in the leads and newbies Sacha Baron-Cohen and Cindi Lauper Jim Broadbent in the not so leads) but in reading this news over at Ain't It Cool I was drawn into the talkback forums.

Now, we all know that talkbackers are generally made up of that section of the population who generally don't leave their bedrooms and who, despite spewing endless vitriol against gaiety, care a little too much about it to not be just a little bi-curious, which is understandable because they are all spotty teenagers coming to terms with themselves.

Aaaanyway, the Sweeny Todd talkback inevitably turned to the topic of homo-gaiety. This time a challenge was thrown down when Mr Stiffy posted this:

it's deliciously dark and funny

Which zabbadoo claimed was:

gayest thing ever said in a talkback

Now this, of course, posed a challenge to prepubescent boys the world over.

DOGSOUP took up the gauntlet with:

So Sir Ian McKellen was fisting John Malkovich's brown eye when a thought occured to him. "Wouldn't it be dandy John, if Alan Cumming were here to see this?" To which Malkovich replied," That little bitch isn't even gay, he's a PANSEXUAL. Now please twiddle my prostate again I like that..." -Gayest thing ever said in a Talkback.

Talkbacker with no name quickly countered with:

In Brokeback Mountain as the cum went up Heath Ledgers bum bum, all the hairs on my plonk stood to attention!

DOGSOUP came back with the rather underwhelming:

"Say what you want about Uwe Boll, but he is a hunka hunka burning man meat. You know, he should cast that dreamy Jonathan Taylor Thomas in his next video game movie...we never see that luscious muffin anymore..."

To which Talkbacker with no name replied:

Stop it DOGSOUP, you are gonna make my willy burp - Gayest thing said in a talkback"

In the middle of all this, and probably oblivious to it all Baron Karza posted:

What about sticking Brian Cox in there somewhere? That guy needs work.

which I think qualifies as reasonably gay.

As of 10 minutes ago, the state of affairs was up to this pearler by DOGSOUP:

Ok Ok Ok I'll stop...when Screetch gives Guy Pearce a Dirty Sanchez! Time for that Bird to eat the One Eyed Wiggle Worm! - Gayest.

So, they are probably all in bed now, whacking off to all the images they have conjured up. God bless the youth of America!

Tags: gay, film, musical

"I am on cocaine!"

Yesterday, after my hand therapy (which went well but they are still looking to operate again) as I was approaching Richard's house from Gertrude street, a man, short haired and stocky, exited a milk bar and turned towards me, his face transfixed with a look of what could best be described as abject delight.

The scene was made all the more eerie due to the excellent noise cancelling capabilities of my Sennheiser headphones and my iPod happily pumping out a track by Band Of Horses.

He stood there screaming in gleeful silence. Wild-eyed.

Then he ran at me. His arms were tensed in a hulking pose. He bounded up to me, his face still contorted in happiness.

I slid off my headphones.

"Take a hit of cocaine and get your life back on track!"

We locked hands in a manly above shoulder clasp.

And then he hulked off down the street.

I love Fitzroy!

Tags: Melbourne, Fitzroy, cocaine

The Departed (or, Fuck you Scorsese, you gay homo-queer fuck!)

Many things conspired to get me to pay the $15 ($15!!!) to see Scorsese's latest: it is based on one of my favourite films, Infernal Affairs; it is directed by Scorsese (yes I was, until today, caught up in the mystique of his cinematic greatness); it has been mentioned on Towelroad for its gratuitously homophobic language (yes, I'm a controversy chaser); and it was recommended by Rick, who is generally a good judge of films I'd like.

Hmmm.

I don't know how he managed it but Scorsese has managed to take a taut, gripping thriller and turned it into, well, a Scorsese film, populated by half arsed OTT characterisation and unnecessary violence. The problem here is that we've seen it all before, on two counts. Firstly, anyone who is remotely interested in cinema has seen Goodfellas and I would suspect many have seen Infernal Affairs and this film is pretty much a mash up of the two. Unfortunately, in the mix it was the good, not the bad, that was flushed. The Departed is slow, undramatic and talky where the original cracked along so dramatically that cinemas could have packed in extra seats for the screening because audiences only needed to use the edges. Scorsese's version meanders. It mills about wasting time and squandering tension on masculine posturing.

I'm not saying the original was perfect, but for all it's cartoonishness the characters were endearing, alive and, in many cases, more believable. Andy Lau and Alan Mak succeeded in drawing those characters in a film that was was squarely driven by plot and this is where The Departed falters most (un)dramatically. The tightness of the original's set pieces was slackened and spread so thinly that the central conflict of the plot, that the opposing sides had infiltrated each other's forces, was essentially neutered. Half the film was spent on watching the characters ponder if that was even the case.

Oh, well. Another remake another waste of money. When will Americans learn to read in films? I know I have learnt my lesson now. Stay away from Scorsese.

Tags: movie review, film, remake

The Gentlest Critique

Found these posters for the DaKino Film Festival over at So Slowly.

Apart from their gentle wit, I like their ability to comment on the preoccupations of Hollywood without openly attacking them.

Tags: design, cinema, festival

Diary Tonic

It seems that Diary Sunday has become Diary Monday... I'm just not around my computer much recently. I actually read through most of my diary this morning and I realised that quite a lot has happened in the past few years. I suppose you just have to hope that I keep blogging long enough for you to hear it all.

As for this entry, I apologise to Hilli for calling her a mole. She knows how much I know I was wrong I was on that score. Hilli, I don't know where you are at the moment but as always, whenever I think of you I thank this world that I had the privilege to know you while you were here with us.

7 March 1998
So another year has passed and now I am twenty three. It seems that my life is still a little possessed by my sexuality since as a read the last few entries and I realise that since I have been up here that I have not written of the new teachers that are now working in Jigalong or of all the fun that we have been having the last few weeks which would have made this year so much better than last year but for the intense desire to get my end away.

I don’t suppose that I could really do the moment justice by trying to describe how I felt about the others when I first met them so I will try and find one of the letters I wrote at the time...

Anyway I'll give you the goss' on the other teachers because I am sure that you are just dripping with anticipation. Well, the first is an Aboriginal woman who is about twenty eight and she is ok even though she is pretty much... well... she will get on better with Justin than she will with me I think, but you never know. The next newbie is a Dutch mole named Hilli and she is built like a brick shithouse and has no sense of humour. The other day I made a joke and she turned around and said, "How would you like my best Dutch fist in your face?" Hmmmmm, I don't think that we will be getting along any time soon. And the final catastrophe is a fifty plus TEACHER!!! I am sorry but that is the only way to describe her. She was asked the other day what her hobbies were and she answered, "I teach everything!" She just hasn't got a clue. She is so fucking superior in all areas of teaching that she won't take advice from anyone, but by all accounts she will be falling flat on her arse pretty soon.

...well, that about sums up my feelings about two weeks into this term I think. After four more weeks the whole face of the school has changed, I certainly do get on with Hilli, she is fantastic and although she is not exactly a party animal she is incredibly honest and has a great sense of humour (how wrong we can be) and she is a sobering voice in amidst all the blustering of Jo and Marita, even myself (all in our different ways). Tuesdee is good too, she is hardly the life of the party but she is good value when it comes to an afternoon chat and fight on the Playstation. Marita is Marita and my esteem of her only changes from dislike to pity the longer I know her, she is trying hard to be part of the crowd but she only makes herself look really self serving.

Well it seems that everything didn’t turn out too badly after all in the staff department, especially the principal who is really cool, a little brash but fun loving at the same time. It is working out so well that for the first time I find myself thinking strange, wild, ludicrous thoughts like, maybe I will do another year here. I wish I had some drugs right now. And then I think that I will just let everyone know that I am gay and be done with it. Wild crazy talk!!! Life is strange.

Strange, strange, strange. I ran into Shane while I was in Perth, at Connections. I do believe that I shocked the pants off him. Another night in Perth threw up all the surprises that it could muster. Brad turned up, apparently I made quite an impression and he rang Donald to see if I were going to be in town. He brought his boyfriend down to the club and even then tried the moves, right in front of his man’s face. It is all a bit unbelievable, he still spent the whole night asking Donald if I were seeing Shane and if he had a chance. I have decided that I am going to sleep with him, Brad that is, if the opportunity arises but I am pretty sure that that is all that it will amount to. See I am still hung up!!!


Previous diary entries:
I Wanna Play
Confessions of an Amateur Melodramatist
Before I Sleep a.k.a. Diary Drowsiness
Goodbye 1996!!!
Back To The Bush
How Time Flies
End Of An Era
Kissy Kissy

Tags: diary, coming out, gay

Melbourne Victory Defeat

So it finally happened. Victory were defeated last night for the first time this season by a frisky Adelaide United. First loss in eight games and it had to be the one that I attended.

What a load of bollocks.

Tags: football, soccer, Melbourne Victory

Picnic At Hanging Rock (or, Picnic at Phallus Rock sans socks, you naughty things...)

After a had day's cycling, eating breakfast at Studley Park boathouse, visiting family and cooking a meal for six, I can thoroughly recommend Peter Weir's classic of Australian cinema, Picnic At Hanging Rock as the perfect tool for slipping you into a restful listlessness culminating in deep, deep sleep.

Someone in the audience of two (by which I mean not me) was heading out to the rock the next morning so we thought it best to heighten the experience by dampening the evening with flowing white dresses, pan pipes and the dulcet tones of "Miraaaandaaaa.... Miraaaaandaaaa..."

Okay, so it wasn't all wank. There were some interesting comments about Victorian repression and I'm always partial to some faux lesbianism.

Finally, I loved (as I am sure Donald does) that the Australian landscape is almost a character in the film.

Tags: Australian Cinema, Peter Weir, movie

1984 @ Melbourne International Arts Festival

Okay, let's make this quick because I am not in the mood for writing at the moment (hence the dramatic drop in posting recently).

Saw Tim Robbins' (yes, that Tim Robbins) production of Orwell's 1984 the other night with Andrews.

First act was fantastic. The whole story was staged in the interrogation room with Winston and five interrogators. It made for an interesting take on the novel, as the interrogators, as they were acting out Winston's diary, would get caught up in the emotions and the "crimes" that he had committed. The device brought a neatly human edge to the production.

At half-time Richard came by and complained to us about the sound. Apparently, he was finding it difficult to hear what was going on even though he was closer to the stage. One of Andrew's friends was doing something officially Arts Festivalish and told us that an "influential member of the arts community" had complained and that they were trying to fix the sound. I hope that was our Man About Town.

Anyways, the second act wasn't quite as successful. Unfortunately, when it came time for the visit to Room 101, they actually visited Room 101. Personally, I would have thought that it would have made more sense to the internal logic of the show to have been noting that the interrogation was already taking place there. It is silly that something as small as this can ruin a show but it did, mainly because it made the second act less tight and more artistically sloppy.

I'd recommend it to you anyway, or at least I would have if it hadn't already closed.

Oh, and I was disappointed that nobody was evicted throughout the evening. I was hoping for some audience participation, an sms number or the like. Honestly, these theatre types are too highbrow.

Tags: theatre, theater, Orwell

Forget Paris, Hobart Is Burning!

This photo was dropped into my inbox by a Stuboo Baloo, via his mother, who lives in the wilds of Tasmania.

It is devastatingly beautiful.


It is going to be a long, hot summer.

Tags: bushfires, Hobart, photo

Gig: Mountains In The Sky + Robin Fox @ Northcote Social Club 12/10/06

Well, I finally saw a band, the first since arriving in Melbourne. First time at the Northcote Social Club, too.

It wasn't very busy. Mountains In The Sky were (was?) releasing their (his?) single Accipio and I don't think the word of mouth has gotten out yet. Great sound and all but a little spoilt by the support act.

Where do I begin? Robin Fox's laser show promised to be a thrilling mix of smoke, laser and electronic music. What it turned out to be was pretty smoke, pretty lasers and a cacophony of noise ranging from the really annoying sound your television used to make when they played the test pattern and the sound an electric drill makes when it is being forced into your ear by a kabuki artist. Horrid.

Pretty lights, nasty nasty sounds. The whole scene ended up resembling something similar to a mind washing seminar from a seventies b-film.

Now, I'm not adverse to experimental electronica but there has to be at least a modicum of structure to the work. Robin Fox's efforts sounded like Stravinsky with ADD. I wouldn't be terribly surprised if there were no planning whatsoever put into last night's work. A four year old with fleeting hands and a panel full of knobs could have done exactly the same. Hell, train a monkey or a parakeet up, at least then it would be avant garde.

I fear now that this whole post is going to be taken up with bitching about the support act so I'll move on.

And the audience clapped... there must have been some good drugs being passed around. All I can say is it scared two of our party off home before MitS even hit the stage.

Okay, here we go.

MitS were the complete opposite (except for the knob twisting part). There was a real feeling of flow in their music and live it sounds just as good as their produced work. Then again, there wasn't all that much going on outside of the laptop and the mixing panel. The drums were extra and one of them pulled out an electric guitar at one stage.

Actually, fuck this. It was good but it lacked the punch of an acoustic set.

Then again I was tired.

And I'd just seen a really shithouse laser show.

Tags: music, gig, Melbourne

Shortbus (or, I can see your arse, and everything else!)

One lucky thing about getting to see John Cameron Mitchell's new sextastic opus before it opens in Australia is that you actually get to see it. Chances are the film will be banned well before it gets a general release. At least I'm sure they'll try. Let's face it, it has gays in it, and lessssbians, and sexxxxx. Not just sex but really real sex. In the first five minutes a guy cums into his own mouth, if that is any indication of how explicit it is.

That said, it isn't porn. And it doesn't feel like porn. It doesn't even feel that arousing, probably because the film is dealing with real relationships and the sex in between and as anyone who has been in a relationship knows, the sex in between is fun, funny, playful, messy, laughable, confused, fumbley and hilarious; it is certainly never "sexy" in the porno sense (or maybe that is just my relationships). Right from the outset the film is assuredly frank and funny when it deals with the sex, and the sex is a major part of the film, all of the plot lines revolve around it. Not just frank, but refreshingly frank.

The plot follows three interweaving relationships that tend to gravitate towards a New York club named Shortbus. It is the same old story, two guys are hunting for a threesome, while a sex therapist is trying to have here first orgasm, while a dominatrix is trying to connect with the world... sex ensues.

There is a quaint fairy tale feel to the proceedings, thanks in no small part to the excellent animations of NYC, but there are also some very poignant links to the reality of the real world. The ex-mayor of New York has a wonderfully heartwrenching scene, which still manages to be strangely uplifting, and there are many passing comments about the aftermath of 9/11. It is not all successful (which is to be expected in any workshop driven production) but it is most definitely always engaging. Everything ends up mixing together in an intoxicating melange and in the end, when the whole mess plays out at the final shindig, you will be left quite, quite sated.

Recommended.

Tags: movie review, cinema, film

City Smackdown: Melbourne vs. Paris

Madame Sousou on Brunswick Street is taking it to, well, the streets.

Paris chic in every way except that an unfortunate geographical confusion leaves the Parisian wannabes of Fitzroy looking up from their café au laits to find, not the Pompidou Centre but a warehouse wall.

Winner? You figure it out.

Tags: Paris, Melbourne, café

"No wire hAAAngERSSSS!!!"

I may have mentioned a few weeks back that Stu found me a cheap-as-chips copy of Mommie Dearest down on Smith Street a few weeks back. Well we finally got around to watching it.

Faye Dunaway is fantastic as Joan Crawford. Indeed, I believe she used the film as her end of term submission in her final year of study at the Piper Laurie School For Overacting, from which she graduated with a perfect GPA.

Her expertise in the field of overacting has never been more clearly evident than these masterful seven minutes of celluloid.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, La Dunaway.



Tags: film, video, overacting

Past Poetic Angst

In hunting down the last angsty poem that I posted, I reread this one. Of the poems that I wrote back then, and there weren't many, this one is my favourite. It still transports me back to that place and into those nerves. Nothing much has really changed on the nerves score, so it is not to hard to slip back into that mindset, I suppose.

The Guy at the Picadilly

A glance, he is looking into me.
The look, just a second,
I pull away, he is looking into me.
He throws me a rope,
Does he?
I don’t know, is he looking at me?
Yes.
Too long I can’t take it, what does he look like?
He is looking at me, I can’t see him,
The blue black tracksuit, the hockey cap,
He is looking at me, I can’t see him,
I burn inside.
Passion? Fear? Nerves? Longing?
Can he see my soul? Does he share my desires?
He is looking into me.
My Uncle; the real world speaks to me,
Pragmatisim, this is not the time.
But he is looking at me and my soul shakes.
We are walking, the real world and I,
I can look at him, he is beautiful and we step towards him.
If we were alone...
I look into him, I touch the rope- How I want to grasp it,
I see him, he sees me, does he know me?
Does he want to?
We move towards him,
The rope, I haven’t let go, would he stop me from drowning?
We are passing, it is finishing- a brush in a crowded cinema.
I burn inside.
We are passing, the moment lingers,
I look away, does he still look up?
I want to feel his breath on me, skin.
Have I stopped? Take me please,
Touch me, be real for me, I need you.
The cold night air, rain,
I smolder as the scene replays in my mind.
I shiver, adrenaline.
I glance back is he still looking?
He is gone. Questions.
Could you see my soul? Do you feel this?
I smolder inside, I need a fire.
Be real to me.

Tags: poetry, coming out, gay

Tuesday's Child Is A Ranter!

I'm sorry, but this is disgraceful!



I've a good mind to put a blue rinse through my hair and write into the local paper.

Caught this scene walking back from North Fitzroy early in the morning. It is the barbecue area next to Fitzroy Pool.

Who in their right mind could think that they are justified in leaving a public area in this state?

Hell, y'all know that I'm not the tidiest of people but when it comes to community areas I'd like to think that people have some sense of civic duty.

That's the problem with the youth nowadays, no respect.

But seriously, I would like to see a more community feel come back. Fuck terrorism, fuck locks and alarms, fuck dirty barbecues. I want to go back to a time when you could leave your door open and not be worried. Where people could organise street parties because they actually knew their neighbours and when you could speak in a foreign language on an aeroplane.

Oh well...

Tags: rant, community, Fitzroy

The Wind That Shakes The Barley (or, One Fucked Up Situation)

Who chose this film? I wonder.

Pretty sobering stuff.

Even bringing up the subject of Loach's Palme d'Or winning film with Wikipedia's biggest fan a very knowledgeable friend spurred on some interesting antagonism of discussion with Andrew (who I think until now has been remained unnamed, you figure it out), which sparked my interest in (and highlighted the gaping holes in my knowledge of) the Irish Republican movement and the Irish Civil War.

What Loach's film does quite expertly is it grounds the broader conflict in a terribly realistic (sometimes too much so) and down to earth setting. This is not a rehash of Michael Collins, the Irishmen here are not the political heavyweights and historical big names. The Wind That Shakes The Barley is the story of two brothers who are fighting the good fight only to find the good fight leads them in opposing directions.

There is a real "thow them in the middle of it" feel to the film, which I loved. Relationships are not really introduced and story doesn't arc as you would generally expect of a film. This of course makes it a little less accessible but far more successful, and ultimately more chilling.

Anyway, the walk home was just as enlightening as the film itself as Andrew went through the state of the Irish situation at the moment. It is sobering to realise that now, almost a hundred years on, the ramifications are still being felt and that on top of that the spirit of colonialism is still alive and well.

What about the children?

Tags: movie review, cinema, Ireland

Thoroughly Modern Millie @ The Arts Centre

Weekend catch up post 2:

Sunday afternoon, fresh from sleeping in, I rushed off to catch up with Neale for his birthday dalliance with Thoroughly Modern Millie, a musical based on the Julie Andrews film that I'd never heard of.

I can't really comment on the first act because I didn't see all that much of it. From the more lucid patches between my mini-sleeps I know it was quite tappy. Tap-dancing has a lulling effect, don't you think? I didn't really follow the story that well either because it bungeed maliciously from hammy Chinese abduction/love story to thoroughly twenties modernity of Millie's hunt for a husband. At one stage it was all in Cantonese. I thought I was dreaming. Everyone was laughing. I thought it more likely that I was dreaming than that the entire audience spoke fluent Cantonese. Then I realised there were surtitles.

I am being harsh. It was actually a lot of fun (especially the second act, for which I was awake).

The program states quite proudly: For anyone who says they don't make musicals like they used to, point them in the direction of Thoroughly Modern Millie.

True enough, it certainly has that, classic musical feel but I have reason to believe that that air of authenticity is drawn from the fact that the show sounds like a pastiche of the twenties. Actually, to be fairer to the musical theatre of the twenties, most of the songs were ripped almost note for note from the period.

But it was fun.

Even funner was dinner and drinks at Taxi and Transit.

Tags: theatre, musical, review

Bushwacking!

Weekend catchup post number 1.

Saturday afternoon, fresh from some factory outlet shopping on Smith Street, we caught up with Neale, Arlene and Andrew for a frolic in the country. Destination: Heathcoate.

It was the first road trip I had done since being back in Melbourne (for some reason I don't count Daylesford) and it was a blast. The reason for the jaunt was a food and wine festival so it was hella worth it. Plus a certain Irish tourist got to see his first kangaroos, granted they were masquerading as roadkill but beggars can't be choosers.

The festival was fun but not particularly engaging. A good deal of wine tasting, some trying on of hats, some eating of pudding and sampling of olives. Fun, yes but also busy so there was a little too much hustle and bustle.

Thankfully, as the day wore on, the crowd the thinned and we were more able to intoxicate the viticulturists with our wit and personality just as they were intoxicating us with their wares. Devilish fun. We met some lesbians cleverly disguised as "friends", a man who was convinced his chilli sauce had the same properties as LSD and a classics scholar from Dublin University who had almost read Proust's A la recherche du temps perdue.

Even more funner than that, possibly the funnest part of the day, was the Alcolizer breath testers as you exited the showgrounds. All the drunkards who had patronised the festival queued up to share in the fun and to cheer on the biggest scores. Andrew, despite his height, managed to exceed the machine's limit, much to the delight of the onlookers. Somehow, Arlene, who seemed to have been knocking them back all day, blew a zero, which was reassuring seeing she already drives like a drunk and to actually be drunk would have seemed like a cliché.

The rest of the night went like this...



...and ended with someone picking up, someone else picking up twice, someone having a bad "e"xperience and a very cute someone falling asleep on top of me after being asked by the bouncers to wake up. Fun but tiring.

Tags: tourism, wine, victoria

Kissy Kissy

Okay, I admit it, I have been neglecting you. It was just such a busy weekend that I couldn't find the time to sticky-tape the time machine back together. It's all fixed now though so here, documented at the source, is the first recorded record of me getting any action.

Thaton, Thailand, 1998
13 December 2007
Well, still in Perth and it is such a wild time. Kate and I and some others went to Rosie O’Gradys and DCs the last night and it was pretty cool but there was far less talent than I expected at the nightclub, maybe it was the wrong night to go. At least the music was decent, unlike the crap they played at Connections. It was good to go out though and liven up the stay in Perth a little. For some reason I am thinking that Thailand is going to have a lot of action in it, I don’t know why this idea comes into my mind when I compare Perth and Thailand, maybe because in Perth there is no real drive to meet people and to get out and about whereas in Thailand there will be a great deal of time doing only that, hopefully.

Spoke to the guy Kate is moving to Melbourne with, I hate to say it but I can’t help but think that we won’t ever really get along. He seems nice enough but he is just a little patronising and full of himself for my liking and that always pisses me off, but it is too late at night to be bitching so I am going to bed.

21 January 1998
Well it is the new year and I am back from Thailand. I cannot be fucked recounting the details of the entire trip here because I have been doing that for everyone I have talked to since I have come back and it gets a bit repetitive after a while. Needless to say there wasn’t any of the action that I was expecting over there purely because if there was any chance of action in any given place then we shipped out for some national park the next day. Actually it wasn’t that bad but the girls that I was travelling with certainly wanted a different holiday to what I was after and although there were some tense moments in the end it all worked out pretty well in the end, still I wouldn’t rush out to backpack around the country with any of them ever again that’s for sure.

The trip has got me worried about travelling at the end of this year by myself purely because it is so dull doing things by yourself especially eating for some reason. Maybe because it is always such a social affair, but eating seems to be so uncomfortable when you are sitting alone at a table. Matthew Dunn has a fantastic body. Ironically though it is when you are sitting alone that you meet people which in a way is some sort of light at the end of the tunnel since it shows that maybe if you are travelling alone that you do meet people. But that is all a few years off so I will wax lyrical about that at some later stage no doubt.

River Raft, Thailand, 1998
25 January 1998
I have never been an expert card player and so I never actively seek out a game to introduce myself to. So I suppose it was inevitable that I should have played all my cards wrong on Friday night. What a mess.

Where to begin? Well, after Thailand I was sort of hanging to go out and get smashed and to just plain shake my booty so I called Donald in the hope that he would want to get together somewhere. Luckily he did and we ended up in the Dive Bar with a few others and went about the serious business of getting deliciously intoxicated. On that front things were going perfectly well then Donald returned after a conversation with one of his most recent ex’s mates. So over this guy comes and introduces himself or Donald introduces him- his name is Brad and he is a most unassuming guy with his understated good looks and unprissy attitude (perhaps the vodka glasses were working well) and everyone gets to talking while we finish our drinks in anticipation of going over to the club. And finally each of us in our own private drunken stupor stumble our way over to the club to continue our revelries. Then all the ‘trouble’ starts, I say trouble and yet it was the best trouble that I have ever had to do with before. We had only been in the club for about half and hour and I was just getting through the second of my four requisite drinks before I went out and danced with Jay when Donald comes over and shouts in my ear that Brad has quite a thing for me.

I keep getting interrupted while I am writing this by the tennis on the television because the guy who is taking on Sampras is Hisham Arazi from Morocco who is absolutely stunning and is taking the game right up to Sampras. This guy keeps on wiping his brow on his shirt revealing the most amazing stomach, not too built but with just a hint of definition, I am watching in awe at his game but I think what I really want to see is Arazi taking his shirt off. He is so alluringly exotic...

Anyway eventually Brad and I get to talking and within no time I am having to explain that I am staying with my parents and that I won’t be staying with him. Why? It was just instinct I guess. I hadn’t gone out seeking a place to stay and so I didn’t feel I was losing anything by telling this guy to wait. Then it was time to dance, which is a story in itself. I now know how totally simple it will be to find meaningless sex if I ever want it for there are some incredibly desperate guys out there, within minutes of getting on the dance floor I was asked if I was at the Court the other night, and let’s face it there aren’t too many guys who wouldn’t have been.

So I leave the dance floor after about five songs and grab a water and sit down to have a little rest. Well over comes Brad to continue with his “Won’t you come and stay with me tonight” routine and here I am having just drunk four vodkas in about forty minutes and then danced all the alcohol into my system and literally before I realise what is happening we are kissing and my tongue is halfway down his throat. Reality seemed to cease and my whole existence consisted of two mouths, sets of teeth, tongues and bristles. And dear Brad is whispering in my ear that he loves me, hardly truthful but most endearing of him and he has his hand nestled in my crutch rubbing. And although I am constantly pulling his ear close to my mouth and shouting “I’m sorry but it is not going to happen, not tonight, you’ll have to wait.” I am still rubbing him and not stopping him from sending his hand up under my shirt to massage my nipple of fingering the hair below my naval. Soon he is kissing my neck and I glance over and see Donald looking upset and reality smashes me in the jaw and I pull away.

Another attempt to pull Brad onto the dance floor fails and I move over to impotently reassure Donald that it wasn’t going to happen and to pull him onto the dance floor instead. In the ensuing mess which is the conversation between us the music ate most of the details and my ears were too drunk to understand the rest. I think I recall that Donald assured me that it was ok to go for it and that he didn’t care and that the only reason that Brad was interested was probably that I was leaving so soon and the stunned amazement or disbelief or amusement when I stated that if he wanted me that he could wait. And yet when I left the dance floor he was gone and all I was left with was a note he had given Donald to pass on to me with his number on it.

I left the club soon after and jerked off when I got home. All that night and the next day I though of what would happen that night when I rang him up and invited him out to the movies and all the rest. For some reason I bet that he would jump at the chance and yet when I showed my hand he was most non committal. I suppose I hadn’t factored in the power of alcohol. I was upset and pissed off both with him and myself, mostly myself. Yet I don’t regret not doing it on Friday night since I can hardly remember what I did do.

Previous diary entries:
I Wanna Play
Confessions of an Amateur Melodramatist
Before I Sleep a.k.a. Diary Drowsiness
Goodbye 1996!!!
Back To The Bush
How Time Flies
End Of An Era

Tags: diary, coming out, gay

Someone Had To Say It!

Tags: Melbourne, photos, religion

As Ubiquitous As Samuel L. Jackson - The Chicken Parmigiana

Abbotsford's Park Hotel's Chicken Parmigiana
Originally uploaded by Trapped In A Suit.

While I was in London, land of pubs, I was shocked and appalled at the conspicuous absence of a certain dish.

Sure, they had their fish and chips, their toad in the hole and their roast but where was the mainstay of modern pub food, the chicken Parmigiana?

It turns out that the parma has not yet breached our shores and hit the big time in public bars worldwide. It is a social travesty!

What brought this on? Well, I wanted one last night and as my dinner date was feeling less than sociable and the friends I am staying with were under the weather, we decided to stay in and cook them up ourselves.

JP was convinced that the culinary perfection that we created beat the parma at the Marquis of Lorne, our preferred parma kitchen (rated 11th in Victoria at the newly revamped Search For A Superparma website).

It was a gross exaggeration of course, but I must say that the addition of crushed chilli to the crumb made for a delightful break from tradition. As you are all rushing out to try this at your home, I would also politely suggest a handful of freshly grated parmesan be added to the crumb because that is divine too. Don't forget the ham and make sure the cheese is suitably browned.

Someone else I know hasn't ever had one so that is going to be one of the next outings. Ah, to relive that first ever bite.

Tags: food, melbourne, chicken parmigiana

Early Evening Gush: The Crane Wife

Another reason this day has been so blissful is that I have had The Decemberists' new album The Crane Wife on über high rotation. At least three of the songs bring an instant smile to my face and two make my feel a deep sense of inner elation. It is a superb album from the outset. Pitchfork has an extensive review for you.

By the time I reached the end not only did a grin split my face from ear to ear but I had a real feeling that the band had hit its stride strongly and assuredly. They know exactly what to do, how to do it and when to do it and they manage to pull it all together without it sounding like flat, cookie-cutter-indie-folk.

It is probably possible to hunt through the blogs of music lovers worldwide and piece together the whole album but I'll give you a heads up for my favourite tracks to save you the trouble.

The beautiful opener, The Crane Wife 3, is over at A Spacious Hole In The Ground.
Herohill.com has the rolling drums of O Valencia.
Bon Ton has Sons and Daughters, the album closer.
Finally, Pimps of Gore has the album's masterwork, The Crane Wife 1 and 2.

Tags: music, mp3, indie

Familiar Feeling

I walked from Fitzroy to Ascot Vale to pick up my bike today. Half way there the wind blustered and the skies opened up.

I love times like that, especially when there is nowhere to run; when you have to experience it and there is nothing to do but smile. For some reason, I feel akin to that kind of weather. I love the feeling that your skin is being bitten by the rain and ripped off by the wind and it turns pink and begins to itch in the chill.

Once, around the time when I came out, I was visiting some beach near Adelaide with my uncle ands my cousin. As the storm approached I was taken by a mood and ran off. They all thought I was rushing off to kill myself (cheery) but I was just enthralled by the enormity of it all. It was a powerful moment in my life and I felt much the same today.

This is what I wrote back then in 1996.

The Walk
This place is strange, it throbs with indifferent power.
Underfoot the rounded pebbles raised by the storm,
Passive in the brooding world.
The waters snatch and seethe to pull the pebbles home.
The sky now inked with ever deeper greys.

And into this I come, into cold, into rain, into power.
Forces pulling towards freedom, to think, to feel, to belong.
The rain comes in marble sheets across the wind and feeds to sea,
I feel the bite against my naked arms and the pulling of my soul.
I can be a part of this now.

I can feel now the hope of a future,
I dare to dream of happiness.
I feel truth in the wind that rushes through me, the pounding in my mind.
Everywhere the roar of existence, the destiny that beckons me.

I run, everything around me demands it,
The pebbles grind underfoot just as they have before,
Thunder erupts as the waves retreat across their silence.
The wind bellows whispers in my ears,
I am no longer defined by the skin that the rain has peeled away.

I run into life as it has been granted me.

It is nice to feel that optimism and opportunity again.

Tags: poetry, recovery, coming out

Hide Those Johnsons

What is our country coming to?

I am honestly astounded that the NRL felt any compulsion to distance itself from the latest Naked Rubgy League Calendar because it was "too revealing".

Please! Have a look. There is hardly even an inch of trouser snake showing.


The French, it seems, have bigger balls.

I just cannot imagine anybody in their right minds taking offence, so why the NRL felt the need to comment is beyond me. Personally, I'd prefer publicity for some tasteful nude pics over allegations of gang rape any day. Maybe that's just me.

And it's for breast cancer for fuck's sake.

Tags: rugby, men, naked