The Power Of Words

Sorry for the short absence, amongst other things I lost my internet connection for 5 days. I can do a bit of web surfing at work, but whenever I'm home I normally have the laptop fired up while I'm watching the tv. Without it, oh em gee. Cut off! Is this what being on Survivor feels like? Without the poor hygiene, rice rations and scheming. I'd like an immunity necklace though. Tribal accessories, so hot right now. Sorry, where was I?

I spent some time over the past couple of days thinking about the power of words. Words can hurt and heal. Inspire and disempower.

Peter and I already have a whole list of cute names for each other. Yes, we are those people. A harsh word at work can make for a bad day. Recently Peter and I were walking down the street holding hands (as we usually do) when an older lady came up to us and told us we were a sweet couple, making our day with just a couple of kind words. (Mind you we've also had at least 3 occasions when Mumblers, as we've come to label them, walk past and mumble chicken shit insults at us as they pass. Here's a heads up Mumblers, enunciate.)

At this point, lets have some musical relief before passing on:

What are words worth? Indeed.

I'm also currently reading (and enjoying) Embassytown by China Miéville, a novel that places language and communication at the very centre of the story. I find Miéville one of the most incredibly creative writers working in science fiction today, and this book about Language uses language in a creative way to examine the dramatic and unexpected effects that communication can have. There is a fantastic review in The Guardian by science fiction heavy hitter Ursula K. Le Guin

(And if you have a moment, check out Miéville's tumblr too, where he posts all sorts of interesting stuff. Then spend a moment contemplating the fact that he's also the humpiest piece of sex on legs working in science fiction today.)

Every week I download podcasts and vodcasts (speaking of words, because language is an organic creature we sometimes make them up!) by the guys at Monocle Magazine. This week there was a fantastic vodcast called Class Acts about some interesting goings on in Bogotá, Columbia.

The second story on the vodcast really affected me, and it was about an organisation whose name means The Power of Words. Don José Alberto Gutierrez is a rubbish truck driver, who lives with his wife in a disadvantaged suburb of Bogotá. Over the years he would rescue books that he found in the rubbish, until he amassed a collection of over 10,000 volumes. Along the way he used rescued books to educate himself, and now the ground floor of his house has become a community library

Watch the vodcast and have a look for the website of La Fuerza de la Palabras because they explain the amazing feat this man has achieved, and his noble aims to bring literacy, culture and advancement to his (and other) communities. [Note: click the little language flag widgets on the right hand side of their web page for an English Translation.] Watch it and let your cold dead heart melt a little/lot.

Then read a good book, or say a kind word to someone.

Dr Evadne Hinge & Dame Hilda Bracket

One of the curiousities of the English is the esteemed role that drag, or female impersonators, has had in mainstream entertainment. Danny LaRue was a huge favourite of my parents'. Paul O'Grady in the guise of Lily Savage was a more frequent guest on Michael Parkinson's chat show than almost everyone else. All part of a tradition that owes it's popularity to Music Hall, all male 'gang shows' and the English love of saucy (but never crass) ribaldry and double entendre, I guess.

My all time favourites though were those elegant Victorian ladies Dr Evadne Hinge and Dame Hilda Bracket, as played by George Logan and Patrick Fyffe. Many people probably haven't heard of them, but they were big stars in their day. They had their own tv show "Dear Ladies" (now on DVD!) that ran for a number of seasons in the 80s, were regulars on popular variety shows such as "Good Old Days", performed a number of times on Royal Command Performances, and even had a star turn in a British production of "Die Fledermaus".

Not to mention their own Gala Evening With Hinge & Bracket show:

A clip from Season 1 of "Dear Ladies":

The older of the 2, Fyffe sadly passed away from cancer in 2002 at the age of 60 and as one friend of theirs' once commented, as they got older Logan and Fyffe began to resemble their characters more and more. Good naturedly snipping at each other and constantly trying to upstage one another. Just as it should be! Now I really need to find those DVDs...

Hear My Dulcit Tones! Listen To Those Sibilant Esssssssses!

I totally forgot to post a link to my little interview on David Reidy's podcast "Sticks & String" a couple of weekends ago!

David came along to the knitting in public event at the Opera House on the 14th, and interviewed me for a couple of minutes. If you're not a knitter you'll have to listen to lots of knitting talk before my dulcit tones chime in, or (shhhhhh, don't tell David) if you want to fast forward I'm a little bit before the halfway point. Ish. After me David interviews a fellow male knitter, Courthouse Hotel pub knitting regular and my good friend, Kerry.

If you are a knitter (or are knitcurious, or questioning) then check out the rest of David's podcasts. The episode I'm in is Episode 87: S.K.I.P.

CENSORED

Yesterday I wrote about looking forward to seeing a gallery show of new photographic works by Bill Henson with my friend James. Last night we rang the gallery for directions, as we were close by but couldn't find the exact location, and the woman James spoke to at the gallery informed us that they had 'taken advice' not to open the show, so the opening night was cancelled.

I'm familiar with Henson's previous works, but didn't really know what to expect from this new show, and I was really surprised that the gallery had taken this step of a last minute cancellation of a well respected artist's show. Since watching the late news last night, and then seeing the morning news and the papers, the issue was that Henson had a series of nudes in the exhibition of pre-pubescent children and teenagers. (Interestingly, 90% of the coverage I have seen has focussed on the young girls in the exhibition, of the footage I've seen only a psychologist being interviewed on the Channel 7 morning news show mentioned that there were pictures of boys in the exhibition as well.)

They showed a couple of the images on the tv this morning, with blurring or opaque bars across the children's breasts, and I really had mixed emotions about them. They were certainly disturbingly frank, but they were also incredibly beautiful and vulnerable, with the children looking somewhat introspective and thoughtful and not in the least lascivious to my eye. My own concerns come from the vulnerability aspect, tasteful or not depending on your point of view.

What has been shocking to me is the media handling of it. One of the morning papers had a full page CHILD PORN 'ART' RAID headline splashed across the front page. Editorialising with two carefuly placed inverted commas and the inflammatory word "porn". A journalist being interviewed on the Today Show this morning on Channel 9 muddied the ethical waters with suggestion and innuendo, under the journalistic guise of 'these questions need to be asked', by suggesting that we don't even know if the children were left alone with the photographer etc. The children and their parents are to be interviewed by police, but there has been no allegations that Henson was ever inappropriate.

Oh, and the hypocrisy of the tv shows! While stating that because the images in the exhibition had been made available on the internet (a dubious decision in hindsight) it was exposing the children to the attention of pedophiles, they broadcast the exact same images. Yes they covered the genitalia, but the identities of the children were not obscured, and they publicised the fact that the images were available on the net.

Henson reportedly wanted to create images that spoke about vulnerability, about that difficult time between childhood and adolescence. I haven't really seen enough of the images to draw any conclusions about how successful he was with that aim. It certainly seems that his methods have been inflammatory to many people and have kicked off a feeding frenzy of accusation and moralisation. I didn't find the images that I (admittedly) only saw doctored versions of at all sexual, and it's kind of sad that there is no room left for innocent admiration of youthful beauty. Nudity = Sex. Nudity = Porn. I feel like I've suddenly been dragged down to the lowest common denominator.

Congratulations iOTA!

From today's Sydney Morning Herald:

"As predicted, the powerhouse performer iOTA won best male actor in a musical for Hedwig and the Angry Inch. He beat Hugh Jackman in The Boy from Oz, Tony Sheldon in Priscilla Queen of the Desert and David Harris in Miss Saigon."

If you've been hanging around this 'hood for a while, you might recall that I saw iOTA perform as Hedwig once, twice, three times (a lady). To say he was brilliant would be selling it short. He provided me with three of the best nights I've had in a theatre.

So I'm very happy to hear that he received the Helpman Award for best male performance. I haven't seen any of the other performances, but I can't imagine anyone else holding a show on their own with that level of energy and connection with the audience. (Hedwig on stage is almost a fabulous form of hard rock monologue.) The Helpmann Award is quite prestigious in Oz, and seeks to "recognise distinguished artistic achievement and excellence in the many disciplines of Australia's vibrant live performance sectors, including musical theatre, contemporary music, comedy, opera, classical music, dance and physical theatre".

Excellence recognised, indeed!

Form Follows Fabulousness

I'm a design nerd. I will freely admit to that. All my life I have bought expensive magazines, full of even more expensive things, just to sit and look at all the pretty. I've trimmed my magazine addiction over the years, because frankly if you are spending more on Wallpaper* / Surface / World Of Interiors than food, then you've got a problem. A toss up between pot noodles or Elle Decor is a tough call, people.

Anyhoo. I also love vintage design. Put 'vintage design' and 'magazine' together and, well, hello priapism. So I was very excited to discover that German design magazine Form have put their entire 50 year archive online. 1957 to 2007.

::schwing::

Here are 3 pages from issue #77, from the year 1977. You want to know what was hot in 1977?:

Nanna hats. Matching vests and underpants. Cheese.



Big gold caftans. Bilateral amputation. Poirot Poiret Pierrot style.



Chic 'Daughters of Bilitis' lesbians. Naughty nuns.



In 1971 modernists Interlubke had a 'moment' with patterns which they'd possibly now wish to forget:



Meanwhile, Letraset was getting its groovy on:




OMG, Letraset! (I fully expect half of my readership are currently going Letra-what? It's what we old folks used in the days before desktop publishing. After desks, but before computers.)

Do you even know how much of my inner font nerd began with these little rub down letters? Hey, those Star Trek fanzines didn't write themselves you know...

I PR Things, Sweetie!

I had the pleasure of being Mr James Charles O'Brien's Plus One to a CD launch last night at the very swish Hugos [sic] Bar Pizza in King's Cross. (Yes, James, as you mentioned I still hold my ground on the apostrophe issue. It even burns me to write it.) This was the pink drinks function I wrote about a few days ago. The pink drinks were thematic you see, as the CD being launched was Hey Eugene! by latin lounge 'genre bending' 12 piece outfit Pink Martini.

Cameraphone Photo by Mr James Charles O'Brien, Esq

What a fun night!

As James mentioned in his blog entry, we were probably the oldest people in the room by at least 10 years. Having both come straight from work, we probably also looked like the only people in the room with serious jobs. Industry execs style.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it was kind of a fabulous but strange event for a launch. Maybe this is the way things are PR'd in this day and age? Hire a swish and expensive venue. Put a 'door bitch' glamazon on the door who takes her job very seriously. Spend a fortune on free nummy nums cocktails, stacks of free CDs on every table (I took a few, natch), free gourmet pizza, dim the lights, strew rose petals all over the venue (and even in the drinks) fer Chrissakes... and then invite a bunch of (almost) teenagers who look like they could hardly afford a CD, let alone work in the industry. That's sort of it. Have some free drinks, and some free pizza, and help yourself to as many free CDs as you want.

I guess it works though, I had a great night and I have been playing the CD all morning... and I love it.

A Weekend Of Contrasts

If Saturday was labelled 'chalk' or 'black' or even 'Laurel', then that would make Sunday 'cheese' or 'white' or 'Hardy'. You couldn't get two days more dissimilar. Like matter and anti-matter.

Saturday I did absolutely nothing. Zip. Nada. Sure I showered, did a bit of laundry, did some knitting, and at one point took a walk down the street, but that's it. I didn't do anything social. Didn't really go anywhere. It was cool and windy, and I just kind of stayed in and futzed around, and the time passed.

Sunday on the other hand I was out the door at 8.30 am and didn't get home until 10.30 pm. My friend Judy and I hit the giant Craft & Quilting Fair (shut up) at Darling Harbour first thing. I bought some knitting yarn, we found things both hideous and fabulous to look at, we wandered and wondered.

[Updated: Oh, I should add that one of the highlights of the craft fair was being mistaken for a woman. Judy and I were perusing some yarns, and even though I was sort of turned half towards her, the stall owner said "Can I help you girls?" And you know what, she wasn't being ironic. I would have thought the short crew cut and beard would have tipped her off, but apparently men don't buy yarn. It's a question od context maybe?]

Afterward I hauled ass over to the 75th birthday celebrations for the ABC (the nation's public broadcaster) to have a look around and meet my friend James for lunch. I'm pretty good with crowds, but after a couple of hours of the crush of humanity and playing Dodgem Cars with my shins Vs a few too many strollers I was just about ready to leave (or kill).

Some of the assembled hordes. Note the hundreds of shin destroying strollers.

It was at this exact breaking point when James rescued me by taking me to lunch. As it turns out a Yum Cha lunch in Chinatown + a beer was the perfect antidote. Who knew?

The set of one of my favourite shows "At The Movies", unfortunately sans Margaret & David

James works for the ABC and was being a 'talent' wrangler for the day, so he headed back to face the hordes and I headed off to my third social engagement of the day.

The set of "The Chaser's War On Everything". Kind of like every university share house I have ever visited, only with a model Trojan Horse and stronger lighting.

I met Mikey (the lovely ex) for a few beers at The Green Park hotel in Darlinghurst, or as it turns out the home of the Beautiful People. Man, it's winter here which traditionally means a degree of hibernation, but that memo didn't get around because not only was the pub packed but the handsome quotient was even higher than normal. It was both fabulous and daunting, in roughly equal measures. After a couple of hours we were joined by some more friends, and then headed back to Steve & Bec's house for dinner. A few hours of good food, wine and conversation later and I was headed home in a cab.

Phew.

So that's my weekend accounted for. How was yours?

Computer Says "No"

I've just spent a futile 15 minutes trying to find pictures or information about Joel Salem, a cutie patootie (and very skilled) juggler who appeared on the most recent episode of anarchic comedy/burlesque show The Sideshow on ABC tv*. He did this amazing act with electronic gauntlets that were hooked up to some sort of loop machine and mixing desk. During the act he juggled balls, which when bounced off the gauntlets triggered drum beats and sound loops to make a music track and a laser light show.

So, I consulted The Oracle and got no hits. None. Ok, a couple of peripheral mentions of him in reviews but that's it. No photos. (Which is a shame, because he was hella cute.) Not even a MySpace page! WTF?

What I thought was interesting was what it says about my expectations. I'm so used to being able to find info or pics of almost anything on the Interweb. You want Christian clowns? Pages of them. It's so weird to find someone, especially someone in the arts and entertainment industry, who is off the radar. I had to double check just to be sure. I even tried variant spellings, adding the word "juggler" etc (btw - there are a lot of jugglers in Salem, just so you know) but still zip. Joel is off the grid.

I guess it says a lot about how things have changed in just a few short years. With online encyclopedias, wikis and the world of blogs, it's so unusual to not find info about somebody out there. Perhaps Joel might get at least one Google entry after this post...

* That's the Aussie tv channel ABC, for those of you playing along in the Northern Hemisphere.

I'm Getting A Semi

So, the Eurovision semi finals were a mixed bag. There was Chinese take-away, cupcakes (I made them and they kicked ass, pics to come sometime soon), cocktails and good cheer, and some snappy numbers - on the upside. I always thought I was the target demographic though, you know? As the snerky British co-host of the telecast said (about an email he received) ""We are 4 gay men getting together in Basingstoke to watch the show", like that's never happened before!" (Maybe he was referring to the Basingstoke bit?)

Anyhoo, I digress. My predictions/favourites were way off. Two of my top three got through, and a whole bunch of my lowest scoring acts did too. Oh, did I forget to mention we had score sheets? (The official Eurovision Semi-Finals Score Sheets actually. Yep, I am that person.)

So, tonight is the Finals and then we can all go back to regular programming. Don't you find my excitement just a little intoxicating though? No? I'm on a self imposed media blackout until tonight when we get the delayed telecast. So please, if you've read who wins already somewhere on Das Internetz don't spoiler, m'kay? Just because.

So, this evening I'm off to the lovely James O'Brien's house for the Finals. Judging by how poorly I went with the Semis I think my chances of taking home the prize James has on offer somewhat slim. Eh, a boy can try though, right?

I'm Sorry, But I'm Still Banging On About Eurovision

UK Eurovision entrants SCOOCH are in a spot of hot water about the video of their song, released to cash in coincide with their Eurovision appearance. The very same video which was summarised by reliable pop judges Popjustice as "It's brilliant because it's so shit!! It's what pop is all about!!!".

Anyhoo, that aside. Apparently, if you are going to release a song entitled Flying The Flag (For You) it's best to make sure that you fly the flag the right way 'round. Oops. The whole SCOOCH thing may have bigger repercussions though, I mean it seems that even associating with them can have negative consequences. As I'm sure this fan can attest:



I haven't listened to the song yet, because as I said to Mikey (the lovely ex) in an email earlier today I'm avoiding previewing any of the songs because "I want all the deliciousness to be served fresh!" I have already seen it described as "laboured" and "workmanlike". My special love is for the reviews "I got to 48 seconds before my ears started to bleed and I had to turn it off." and "It's like The Vengaboys never happened." Snerk.

I hope I don't hear it and fall in love with it, because I'm enjoying these reviews way too much.

The Eurovision Checklist

1. Boybands


The Spanish boys of D'NASH have all promised to be my boyfriends.
OMG! LOL.


2. Drag


"DQ" from Denmark. Any guesses on what the initials stand for?


3. Pyrotechnics


Ooooh, sparkly!


Ooooh, lame!


4. Divas


Work. That. Windmachine, Finland!


5. Strange Themes


Malta reprises a touring company production of "Miss Saigon".


Oh, how embarassment! As does Portugal...


While the UK present a 3 minute hommage to budget air travel.


6. Big Hair


One of the lost tribes of Switzerland, rediscovered!


7. 'Hard Rock' Acts That Aren't


Iceland gets all 'cock rock'.


8. National Costumes


Greece wearing the traditional mini-toga.


9. 'Emo' Ballads In Fractured English


Lithuania, represent!


10. Persons Of Indeterminate Gender


The Serbian singer person.

It looks like we're all set!

This Can Only Mean One Thing

Either it's Christmas and trees are in short supply in the Ukraine...



Or, Dame Edna and Divine had a secret love child...



Or, it's Verka Serduchka, the Ukrainian entrant in The Eurovision Song Contest!



Ah, Eurovision! My love for you knows no bounds.

Countdown To Eurovision.

It's just around the corner now. My toes are already curling in anticipation. My ears are already tingling at the thought of all those three minute (max), key change probable (but optional), pop gems. Some will be polished gems, some will be diamonds in the rough and some will prove the old adage You can't polish a turd. Many will make no sense at all. Drinking games will be devised, such as Scull Your Drink When You See A Jumpsuit or Everyone Downs A Shot Each Time The Hosts Fill An Awkward Moment By Saying "Great!".

The real source of my excitement though, the real thing that gets my junk tingling, is that my favourite Swedish crypto-homo glam rockers "The Ark" are singing their little hearts out for Sweden.



I can't wait.

Showing Restraint

It's been days, days and I haven't posted any pics of a certain boy wizard's naked ass. Even though it has gone around the Internetz like wildfire.

Of course, that doesn't mean I can't link to it.

Growing Up Nicely

At risk of seeming to be an old perv, I just spotted this picture compilation of Daniel Radcliffe on the Sydney Morning Herald online edition (photographer not credited, except 'Reuters') and I have to say, considering he's only 17 it would seem that he is growing up to be a handsome young man.



[Update: Oh, I see the above pic on the right is actually a crop.

::clears throat::

Um, the original (below) has, um, some artistic merit, doesn't it? Boy wizard, indeed.]



Anyone got a Valium?

The Question Deserves Asking:

R&B music video clip, or a 4 minute infomercial for mobile phones?

Seriously. I was up early this morning and turned on Rage on the ABC, right in the middle of a block of female R&B video clips. Each and every one of them had the most blatant product placement for mobile phones.

I know I'm busy singin' but I just gotta call my man/call my girl/snap a picture of my girl posse/snap a picture of my bitches. Look, see how this flips open just like this? Can you see that name, that's right N-O-K-I-A. Urgh, tacky.

Don't Call Me A Faggot, Unless You Are A Friend

I wish we had the current season of Ellen DeGeneres's talkshow "Ellen" here, because I would love to have seen this interview with "Grey's Anatomy" star T.R. Knight. I've mentioned this story before, about how co-star Isaiah Washington called Knight a "faggot" before getting into a physical fight with Patrick Dempsey over the incident. The altercation prompted Knight to come out and be open about being gay, and as he tells it the catalyst was considering the option of standing up and being honest in a similar way that others like Ellen had before him. What I didn't realise until I caught up on my blog reading this morning is that the story made news again when Washington denied ever saying it during a press conference at the Golden Globes. (Oh, and I so want Katherine Heigl in my corner during a fight! She's aces).

It amazes me that some people don't see "faggot" as being a harmful slur. It's a word that is meant to harm. It doesn't just mean 'gay' or 'homosexual', these are fairly neutral words that label same sex attraction. "Hey, homosexual!" doesn't quite have the same sting. "Faggot" (like the Aussie "poofter") is loaded with associations of being less than, of not being acceptable, of lacking. In Australia you often hear school kids these days saying "that's so gay!" meaning that something is lame. It saddens me to hear the word "gay" being used like this, but it still doesn't have the same degree of sting.

Not that I think Knight or anybody else would, but it makes me wonder how Washington would have reacted if one of his fellow cast members had used a racial slur. Then passed it off as being no biggie, and even denying having ever said it. Words can hurt.