Men In Tights

I've been in the mood for a little escapist fiction of late. I'm not much of a beach goer (hello, have you seen my flourescent lily white legs?) but it is sort of a premature Summer here, and any kind of Summer means Beach Reading to me. Light. Engaging but not taxing.

My very own gay superhero Michael recently read, and subsequently kind of harshed on, "Hero" by Perry Moore. I was intrigued. I hadn't heard anything about this book, but the teen gay superhero plot piqued my interest. Much like the movie "Mystery Men", the film is set in an alternate modern day where "heroes", people with superpowers of varying degress of effectiveness and eccentricity, are the norm (even if only a small percentage of the population).



I enjoyed it. It's not great, but it filled the bill for something entertaining and diverting. It definately falls into 'young adult fiction' territory, and it is true that the author does kind of broadcast the big reveal a bit (and very early). However, I like what Moore (who has previously been best known as executive producer of "Narnia: The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe" and the upcoming "Prince Caspian" movies) has tried to do with creating a teen gay superhero.

According to an interview on his website, he was reacting in part to the poor treatment of gay and lesbian characters in comics, especially the murder of gay superhero Northstar by one of Marvel's other hero characters, Wolverine. As he says:

"In the very popular superhero team The X-Men, the first and most prominent gay hero in the Marvel Comics universe, Northstar, was viciously killed by Wolverine—the star of the team, the star of the film. You see Wolverine's image on kids' lunch boxes; you see children dress up as him for Halloween. And he slaughtered the X-Men's token gay hero. I found this to be disturbing, to say the least. In all my years of reading X-Men, I have never known Wolverine to kill another hero. And yet, there he was, skewering Marvel Comic's most prominent gay hero through the heart with his adamantium claws. I thought this revealed a very ugly side of the people and publishers who make comic books, and not necessarily what the fans want."

Moore also has chronicled, and given his opinions on, the history of poor treatment of gay and lesbian characters in comics here.

So, bravo for attempting to create an alternative. The novel is a bit campy in tone, similar in a way to "Mystery Men". The villians are certainy campy. Moore gets huge snaps from me for calling one of the female villians with laser beam eyesight Transvision Vamp! I do so love a good pop culture shout-out. The main character's coming out story is handled fairly well, with some sensitivity and more seriousness. I think it works fairly well, quibbles about the author broadcasting main plot points aside.

According to Moore's website a sequel to "Hero" is already in the works, and discussions are underway about a possible movie adaptation. He's also working on a young adult novel about werewolves, and has just written and a directed a feature film "Lake City". Busy boy.

Oh, and kind of cute too!

At Ease

I'm kind of obsessed with this photo at the moment. Some things need no explanation, right?

Don't tell, show.



*Le sigh*

DietWatch

Oh, and yeah, this weekend was a total blowout. Drinky dinks, canapes, sweet nibbles, fried food, even pizza for dinner last night. I am consumed with shame, the shame of consuming that is.

We'll just put this behind us and move on, shall we? Let's never speak of it again, and just focus on doing better.

Of High Tea, Friends And A Bright Pink Parasol

As I mentioned on Friday, I was heading to The Victoria Room on Saturday afternoon for High Tea. Oh my dears, it was Most Excellent. Along with Mikey (the lovely ex), his boyfriend Evan, Linda, Natalie, Tony and his lovely wife Kristin we headed in to The Victoria Room around noon for the first sitting of High Tea (the rest of the afternoon was fully booked, and by the time we left it was packed).

I hadn't been there before and was a little surprised at the scale of the place. Huge. A large loft style space, divided into more intimate areas with seating arrangements, beaded curtains and open iron screens. Full of an assortment of antique couches, chairs and little side tables with lamps, it was dark and elegant in a slightly shabby chic sort of way, and surprisingly intimate.

Oh, and 'glamour' dark, which meant we all looked gorgeous (natch) but it did make getting snaps of anything that wasn't a light source a bit difficult. When I was scrolling through the pics I took, it was something like 90% lamps. I know I'm a bit of a Homewares Queen, but that's ridiculous.

Chiffon wrapped chandeliers (left) and vintage style elegance (right) at The Victoria Room.

The nibbly bits were lovely, a few savoury sandwiches and lots of sweet things. We had the complimentary bubbles (too sweet for my taste) and a couple of top class bottles courtesy of Mikey and Evan. There was some live jazz to add to the atmosphere, and a solo soprano who sang a selection of arias with piano accompaniment. Fabulous.

Potted palms (left) and Mikey (right)

Best of all was the company. We chatted, we supped our tea and champers, laughed and had a great time. Once we rolled out of there a few hours later, we decided to keep the afternoon going with drinkies in the beer garden of The Green Park Hotel nearby. The stark modernity of the beer garden was a total change from the cool dark of The Victoria Room.

Linda cracks up (left) and stark geometries at The Green Park (right)

It was a really hot afternoon, but we staved off the heat with whatever shade we could find, Linda's parasol and some crisp, cold bottles of Sauvignon Blanc.

Nat strikes the pose (left) and cranes overhead, speaking their lost language (right)

It was a fantastic way to spend an afternoon.

[Click the pics to see them full sized, and there are more pics from the day in the full set on Flickr.]

Champers, Tea & Gorgeous Nibbly Bits

This is where I post a second post about food in one day and you start to wonder if I'm not, well, obsessing.

Tomorrow I'm off to The Victoria Room for a spot of High Tea amongst the faux British Raj-style splendour. (See pic below, from their website. Nice, huh?) I figure I can scarf down a few nibbly bits and champers, and then live on celery for the rest of the weekend. It's all about balance.

The outing was organised by some female friends of Mikey (the lovely ex) and mine, and while I was checking out the website to see if it was link-worthy, I spotted the following write-up about tomorrow's High Tea event. You see, The Victoria Room do High Tea every weekend but it turns out that tomorrow's is a special event to coincide with the Sydney Morning Herald's "Good Food Month".

"The Victoria Room Brown Brothers Sparkling High Tea"

Ladies of all ages can enjoy a revived British tradition and one of the finer girly things in life - a sparkling High Tea at The Victoria Room.

Sip Brown Brothers' recently released sparkling wine, Zibbibo Rosa, whilst experiencing High Tea at its best complete with Opera Australia and jazz performers.

$45pp including sandwiches, scones, sweets, loose leaf tea, glass of Zibbibo Rosa sparkling wine and delightful goodie bag

Okay. It's a good thing that I'm a man who enjoys the finer girly things in life, right? It has that kind of 'girls only' edge, don't you think? Not that I'm bothered by that. I mean, might there be an all male revue? I don't care if there is or isn't, but if the 'goodie bag' has a quality eye cream in it (cross your fingers for me), that would be a total score.

Temptation

I was just reading Christopher's blog post Feeling Flabulous. Seems Mr Chris has put on a few pounds this week, partly due to his work rolling out the goodies.

Well, I have pretty much stayed on the path of righteousness and rectitude this week, and I'm hanging off from weighing myself until the week is out, but I feel like I've dropped some. (Sorry Christopher) I've cut out pasta and 90% of the bread I would normally eat, which are two of my biggest weaknesses. Been eating a lot more fruit and having things like grilled fish and salad for dinner. (I choose not to reflect on the fried food and beer fest of Wednesday night, but one blowout per week ain't too bad.)

Like Christopher though, my work is evil. (I've blogged about this before, the sneaking suspicion that The Christians I work for are secretly trying to fatten me up for sacrifice or something.) So far this week, my manager and workmates have sought to tempt me with the following:

• Chocolate mousse
  
• A farewell buffet of Pear & Ricotta Tart and Coconut & Caramel Tart
  
• A lunchtime MacDonalds run
  
• A lunchtime Red Rooster run
  
• 'Family' sized blocks of chocolate

Oy.

Balanced

I'm still training today so haven't been around on The Internetz much, just a few minutes here and there. Precious moments of 'us' time snatched like clandestine kisses. Oh and I'm kinda tired, and while not exactly hungover (because Graeme will call me a whimp if I say I am), I am certainly in the next suburb over. Wednesday night out with the boys, and all that.

For my sins I had to spend the morning balancing the petty cash accounts. Pause and reflect on that for a moment, and then look at your own lives and feel a rush of joy about yourselves. About the lack of the need to balance petty cash accounts in your lives. With an (almost) hangover.

Run Dry

Ack. I'm training a new staff member today, and all I've done all day is talk, talk, talk. All you do to me is talk, talk, indeed. She's a quick study and very nice, which is helping a lot, but the big surprise is that I'm almost sick of the sound of my own voice. Imagine! It's a world gone mad.

By now she quite possibly feels the same.

So, I'm parched and all talked out and sucking down the water like it's about to be discontinued. I'm also aware of not overloading her with information, and frankly we're both starting to look like we're feeling the strain. I've just given her some time out, and now I'm taking one myself.

And yes, the irony that I'm relaxing by talking about myself, only this time in print, is not completely lost on me. Viva la ego!

17 October, 1985

RIP mum. It's been so many years, some days it feels like forever ago and sometimes it feels like only yesterday. I miss you.

Offensive Amazon

Sorry for the lack of posting today, I've been busy as a busy thing at work and this is the first chance I've had to stop and take a moment today. Hate that. I normally love to fill my day with more taking a moment and less work.

Anyhoo. I was consulting The Google a moment ago to see if I could find out some more info about some of the gay actors mentioned in the book I have been reading "The Man Who Invented Rock Hudson: The Pretty Boys and Dirty Deals of Henry Willson". (I posted briefly about reading this book in this entry on Friday.) Specifically I was interested in Tom Hatcher, a young man who was a moderately successful client of Henry Willson, but who then broke the mold of Willson's other closetted gay clients by romancing and then living with another man, Broadway and Hollywood writer/director/producer Arthur Laurents. In fact they celebrated 50 years together, before Hatcher died at the age of 77. There isn't a lot of material on Hatcher to be found easily on Google, but in the process I did find a link to a biography by Arthur Laurents, Original Story: A Memoir of Broadway and Hollywood on Amazon.

Here's where it gets very strange though, take a look at this snippet from the Amazon page:



So I'm reading it, and then I thought WTF? No, I must be seeing things! when I spotted the 'key phrases' for this book:



Oh. My. God.

So I clicked the 'more' link underneath the keywords and discovered that the two first keyword entries in this case are SIPs - Statistically Improbable Phrases. Amazon explains them thusly:

"Amazon.com Statistically Improbable Phrases

Amazon.com's Statistically Improbable Phrases, or "SIPs", are the most distinctive phrases in the text of books in the Search Inside!™ program. To identify SIPs, our computers scan the text of all books in the Search Inside! program. If they find a phrase that occurs a large number of times in a particular book relative to all Search Inside! books, that phrase is a SIP in that book.

SIPs are not necessarily improbable within a particular book, but they are improbable relative to all books in Search Inside!. For example, most SIPs for a book on taxes are tax related. But because we display SIPs in order of their improbability score, the first SIPs will be on tax topics that this book mentions more often than other tax books. For works of fiction, SIPs tend to be distinctive word combinations that often hint at important plot elements.

Click on a SIP to view a list of books in which the phrase occurs. You can also view a list of references to the phrase in each book. Learn more about the phrase by clicking on the A9.com search link.

Have some ideas for improving this feature? Please send your feedback to sitb-feedback@amazon.com"

Wow, those phrases are distinctive alright.

Surry Hills Festival

Here are some photos from the Surry Hills Festival this past weekend. It was the first time I had been to the festival, and wasn't even aware it was on until earlier in the day. Verdict: it was kind of like the Newtown Festival (lots of young people, gay men & lesbians aplenty, small dogs underfoot, plenty of inner-urban tribal types, and the ubiquitous Gozleme/vege burger/Thai food stands), only a bit more feral.







Like the Newtown Festival, in a curious symbiotic relationship sort of way, the longest queues were for the beer stands and the loos.

Adventures In Pelvic Adjustment

I had my first physiotherapy appointment late on Friday afternoon, at a physiotherapy practice not far from home. Hey, sometimes the fates, Baby Jesus, the universe, whatever you want to call it, smiles upon you. Colour me shallow, but as it turns out I have the world's cutest physiotherapist.

Holy. Crap. You should see this guy. A bit taller than me, but still what could be defined as falling within 'pocket rocket' paramaters, well muscled without being bulky, handsome and with shortish blonde curly hair cut just so. And nice. And called Andrew.

Sadly I had to strip to shorts so it was strictly a one-way beautyfest. I don't know if he's a 'mo, but I assume he's probably not turned on by a bit of 43 year old paunch and some man-boobs. But who can presume, right? (That was optimism speaking.)

Anyhoo. He was very sweet and pleasant, and got right down there with his strong hands and adjusted my pelvis (which as it turns out was tilted slightly forwards and upwards on the right side, possibly from decades of sashaying and carrying my books on my hip). I have to go back for more appointments (score!) and have exercises to do. They also have proper Pilates machines and do classes of just 4 people plus the physiotherapist instructor, which I'll start once the worst of this sciatica flare up has subsided.

I figure I might just string this sciatica thing out for as long as possible.

Snippets

• I desperately needed some new clothes for work, so I went on a brief shopping spree on Sunday. Only to find out that I have gone up a size in pants. If you had been with me in the fitting room (and why weren't you?) you would have seen what amounted to a silent Primal Scream.
  
• Consequently, and maybe to take revenge on the universe for being dealt such a cruel hand (or maybe just because I can't commit to staying this size) I bought the cheapest pants I could find. Hey, your loss is Target's gain. Or my gain is Target's gain, or whatever.
  
• There seems to be a particular form of shuffling/dancing The Young People do at outdoor festivals. I know this because I was watching the crowd in front of the doof-doof tent at The Surry Hills Festival. It's a curious thing, and seems very popular with bright pink English tourists in particular. Partly designed to avoid spilling the plastic cup full of beer I'm guessing.
  
• FYI, redheads are hot. Just so you know.
  
• I did some major pruning of the ficus trees in my back yard on the weekend. The job isn't fully done, I still have to buy/borrow a ladder to get to the very top bits. (Hobbit height has its drawbacks.) It was remarkably therapeutic. Kind of like hairdressing on a grand scale, but butcher.

Who's Who

Nathaniel, the super cute force behind the fantastic Film Experience Blog, has celebrated the US "National Coming Out Day" with a post profiling the out directors, producers, writers, actors and actresses of Hollywood.

It's interesting timing, because I'm reading a rather scurrilous (and I have to say, not terribly well written) biography at the moment about the Hollywood agent and talent scout Henry Willson, "The Man Who Invented Rock Hudson: The Pretty Boys & Dirty Deals of Henry Willson". (I'll blog about this book once I'm finished reading it.)

Willson had a coterie of gay actors, men who were signed up for their looks, renamed Rock/Tab/Troy/Guy and then taught how to act, walk, talk, cross their legs and even light a cigarette. All to create the beefcake idols of the 40s and 50s. Willson arranged female dates, engagements and even marriages for these guys, all designed to keep them (sometimes without success) out of the scandal rags. Just for being gay.

It's a different world, thankfully.

D-I-E-T

FYI - Never trust a word that is basically DIE with an extra letter.

After brunch with Mikey (the lovely ex) and his beau Evan on Saturday I am totally going to start a die-t. No really. Porkiness must be held at bay. Unless I have a really bad day at work of course, when medicinal pizza might be administered.

Ok, ok. NO PIZZA. Jebus.

Changing My Ways

I'm determined to change my ways. No, correction, I've started changing my ways.

I can be a bit of a horder, especially with books and magazines. I often re-read them, and I don't know maybe it's that I relish all the ideas, the inspiration that they provide, that makes me want to hang onto them. Who can say? So, first the 5 bags of books were sold/given away. Then last night, while "So You Think You Can Dance" was on (Pasha, Cameron, call me m'kay? I'm listed.) I started tackling the magazines. Stacks of home decorating magazines from several years ago all bit the dust, after I had flicked through them and had torn out anything I thought was particularly striking or memorable, and the odd recipe here and there.

One line was drawn in the sand. Martha stays.

Some Days

Maybe it's just me, but some days you wake up feeling (how do I put this delicately?) horny. And the only thing worth considering is a few rounds of hot and dirty monkey sex with Will Arnett.



Maybe it is just me.

Big Loves

Two of my unpursued career ambitions as a teen were a) architect and b) archeologist. (I won't mention the other career ambitions, but they mostly involve variations on making pretty/shiny things or taking Broadway by storm. Consequently my parents were somewhat happier about the idea of making buildings or scrabbling in the dirt, than oh, say, being a couturier.)

Anyhoo, enough about my childhood pain! That's what therapy is for, right?

Consequently, as an adult I am obsessed with a couple of UK tv shows. Grand Designs and Time Team. The episodes we have on our tv here are years old, but does that tarnish my love for them? Hell no.

I love the way "Grand Designs" follows a building project from first breaking of the soil to the finished building. Some of the homes they have covered are amazing. And Kevin. I love Kevin. I dream of Kevin whispering sweet nothings to me like "mullions" or "flashing" in that clipped, sometimes slightly judgemental, British accent. And when he looks into camera and let's it be known in that subtle way he has that he thinks the owners are mad, the architect a bit of a no-hoper bastard and (say it isn't so) the building might never be finished, well he just makes me love him that bit more.

Being all "Mr Butch In A Hardhat" (left)


All smart in a dinner suit, but Kev what's that expression? Somewhat of a Gay Face, don't you think? (FYI, he has a wife and kids apparently.)

And "Time Team". Oh how you make me want to claw at myself in pleasure you whacky British archeologists, with your regional accents and your demi-ugly knitwear. You only have 3 days! to complete each dig, and the tension just about kills me! (Oddly, nobody seems to have ever asked or answered the question "Why only 3 days?" I mean, they're all archeologists, it's their day job, right? It's not like they have to be back at work on Monday.)

The tension is palpable. Will geo-phys gets the results in on time? Iron Age or Bronze Age? Does Mick own any other style of knitwear?

Struggle

I don't know if it's the stars, fate, my on and off again insomnia, or my imagination, but this week so far has been like one long slog uphill. Work is kicking my ass at the moment, money is tight until payday tomorrow and my sciatica is still making me feel 100 years old. I kind of think this blog has reflected that mood to some degree, but then I am my own harshest critic after all.

Actually, Anonymous who left me some lovely homophobic comments on some old posts recently is probably my harshest critic, but then Anonymous never was known for their kindness.

Oh my God, do you hear that? Whinge, whinge, whinge right? Gah. Next thing you know I'll be turning into one of those teen bloggers that describes their blogs as "random thoughts and ravings". (Pet hate, the descriptor "random" about things that clearly aren't. FYI. Ditto "awesome".)

Anyhoo. There is light at the end of the tunnel, the good kind of light not the 'train approaching' kind of light. On Monday a new staff member starts, which means I can go back to doing just one job instead of two, and I can take up my promotion once that person is trained. Tomorrow is pay day (HUZZAH!). Friday I start physiotherapy to hopefully improve the sciatica situation. Tomorrow night is "So You Think You Can Dance Night".

As the young people say, "It's all good". OMG, that's so random.

[Updated: 11:55am. Actually, today has gotten a bit better already, or at least my attitude to it has. I credit you in part, I mean you're such a good listener. We're talking catharsis here. You should get paid for doing this, really. OK, you're a little taciturn right now but at least you don't interrupt. Wanna make out a little?]

The Top 25 (Maybe With A Couple Of Bottoms)

I just caught this story in the paper this morning. At a ceremony at the Art Gallery of NSW last night social networking site SameSame announced their list of Australia's 25 most influencial gays and lesbians. Results were apparently tallied from thousands of votes from both outside and within the gay community.

A pdf of all the winners is here. It's a varied list, with the famous and the not so well known. Adam Sutton, the gay cowboy biographer I met at a book signing, and the fabulous musician, "Hedwig & The Angry Inch Star" (and soon to be starring in "The Rocky Horror Show") iOta make the list. As does Justice Kirby who I met at a group dinner at an AIDS conference many years ago, local drag queen Mitzi Macintosh who I have met through a friend and one person who's sister I'm friends with. (Gee, guess I'm better connected than I gave myself credit for!)

I don't know how usefull these sorts of awards are, but I guess I would argue that visibility is a good thing, from my point of view. Some of the award recipients were being awarded for that, being open about their sexuality in their very public lives, and others for working directly with the gay community. These sorts of lists always start discussions, and to be honest I think it would be nice if we didn't have to award people purely for being visible in the public eye.

However, in the world we currently live in there is still value in being open and noticed. To let people know that we are everywhere!

(Thank goodness.)

Autumn

Spring seems to have barely just begun here in Sydney, yet for some reason my mind keeps wandering to the chilly days of Autumn. Frosty mornings. Leaves underfoot...

Say, any of you boys called Russell?


In Russia, tiny fig leaf wear YOU!


Now everybody! "It's fun to stay at the..."

Lost & Found

On the short walks this morning from home to the train station, from the train station to my office, and then to the local shopping centre and back at lunchtime, I saw the following items either on the footpath or in the gutter:

• 1 x pair men's underpants, black
  
• 1 x pair ladies' panties, grey with black lace trim
  
• 1 x man's sock, black and grey argyle (size extra large by the look of it)
  
• 1 x pink elastic hair band
  
• 1 x black woolen glove (left)

Props for colour co-ordination, right? There's a whole sombre grey/black story happening here, which while not exactly to my taste at least has the kicky note of pink to liven things up a bit.

Put logic aside for the moment, and the fact that these items were streets and even suburbs apart. What do we think is happening here? Modern day Hansel & Gretel? A couple with a poorly functioning suitcase? Or maybe they are driving around so completely overcome with sexual abandon that they have to pull over and shag like bunnies (discarding garments without gay abandon) as they go?

Fantasy aside, how do you lose a pair of underpants? Really? The glove and the hairband, sure. The sock, maybe a little harder to understand.

But underpants?

You Know There Is A Generation Gap When...

...you have to try and explain who Joan Collins is.

I mean, for crying out loud. It's not like I work with a bunch of off-shore oilmen or something, men who you might expect not to know their Joan Collins from their Sally Kirlkand. For whom Liza requires a surname. Those sorts of men. Manly men. But this was one of the women I work with.

In the process of trying to explain, you then have to explain what Dynasty was.

Weekend Recap, Now With Pictures!

Compared to the social whirligig and hullabalu of last weekend, this weekend was a more relaxed and sedate affair. As befits a man of my advancing years.

Saturday morning (early, early morning) saw myself, Judy and her handsome son John tackle the monthly Pyrmont Growers' Market. I don't know whether it was the unseasonably warm weather, the early sunrise or some memo was passed around, but it was packed. Maybe it was the mountains of cheap new season asparagus?



This gear makes your pee smell, just so you know. Forewarned and all that. I didn't buy any asparagus (q.v. Asparagus: smelly pee) but I did buy a gorgeous bunch of really dark purple Sweet Peas, which really looked the business in one of my pale green 'Depression Glass' vases that used to belong to my mother.

(I collect this glassware, although it has started to get really expensive now. Which is more than ironic because it was super cheap glassware in its day, and was at the height of its popularity during The Depression. I have about a dozen pieces now.)



Saturday I decided to have a quiet night in (this is becoming a pattern), but as it turns out not such an enjoyable one. I've had really disturbed sleep of late, which is usual for me at the first blast of warm weather as it always takes me a while to adjust to the warmer nights. I turned in about midnight, but was woken up around 12.30am by a) a pizza delivery guy banging on the front door, b) my flatmate tromping up the hallway and c) said flatmate standing right outside my bedroom door calling out "Sweetie, hurry up! The pizza is here!". I have a problematic relationship with sleep at the best of times, and being woken up like this is officialy Not Good. You know Mr Furious from "Mystery Men"? We share a super power. After I got out of bed, stomped through the house, yelled at my flatmate and his boyfriend, and slammed a few doors. I didn't really feel any better, but I might have made my point. Maybe. If you wake me up by accident, fine, I can live with that. Wake me up through a lack of consideration or rudeness, then look out.

Anyhoo. Yesterday I hung out with Mikey (the lovely ex), who was dog/house/tropical fish sitting for our friends Bec & Steve. Mikey's new boyfriend Evan was away in Melbourne for the weekend, for a friend's birthday, so Mikey and I just hung out, had lunch, a beer at The Green Park Hotel, a bottle of yummy Veuve Clicquot pink champagne and then an early Thai dinner.

Part of the fun of hanging out at Steve & Bec's place is Rex the Papillion. Aka the Leaf Thief:



The aftermath:



It's a massacre!

Tipso-Dipsomania

I do so like a tasty beverage of the alcoholic variety.

At certain times in my life, in fact even for much of the life of this blog, I have been a tee-totaller. For years at a time. Even now I'll sometimes go weeks without a drink, unless a social situation involving alcohol rears its head. I normally don't ever have any alcohol at home, primarily for that reason, that I only drink socially. I'm a 'take it or leave it' kind of guy.

Having said that, I have a new blog love. Jay Hepburn is a twenty something mixologist living in London, who writes a very informative and entertaining blog about cocktails, Oh Gosh!.

I found Jay's blog through the LGBT blog listings at Globe Of Blogs, so I assume he is of the homosexualist persuasion. I mean, he set out to mix the cocktails featured in "Sex & The City" so, like, you tell me right? Anyhoo, the topic is very much cocktails (the drinkable kind) and Jay provides lots of good advice, anecdotes, reviews, recipes and some snappy writing.

Check it out and get mixing like responsible adults who drink in moderation.

Tightly Wound

I used to work in a watch and clock boutique many years ago. It was the latter half of the '80s and we sold only European watches and clocks. Primarily Swiss, naturally. Right up to beautiful gold things with diamonds and other precious gems, which were primarily bought by people living the Greed Is Good new money lifestyle of the '80s. Frequently with more money than taste. I would see these pieces of precision workmanship walk out the door, knowing that I could have just as easily hung the brandname and some diamonds around their wrist and they'd have been just as happy.

Come the crash of the early '90s I'll bet there was some fabulous secondhand bargains to be had.

Anyhoo. Lesson number 1 with beautiful manual watches and clocks, don't wind too tightly. Ease off when things start to get too firm. Stop before everything gets torn out of its delicate moorings. Before the carefully calibrated springs and sprockets get torn asunder, or stretched to where they'll never be the same.

Metaphor, anyone? Ay dios mio. It's month end here at work today, the person I'm supposedly job sharing with at the moment (who has been made redundant and leaves next week) didn't show for work at all this week and so I'm doing her work and mine. I slept badly last night because it was such a warm night.

I have a ton of work to do by the 5pm deadline, but I'm taking 15 minutes to write this, do a tiny bit or web surfing and hopefully stop a few turns short of being over wound.

Pretty Pictures

It feels like it's time for a bit of eye candy.



I find this picture of an American footballer from somewhere around 1910 absolutely captivating. The picture itself is lovely, spare but with a beautiful quality from the shallow focal length. I find the guy in the picture so striking looking, so still and composed yet somehow brimming with energy. Plus, hello, handsome! Not everyone can pull off horizontal stripes.



Talk about rougish charm. This guy in the boat manages to look sexy, goofy, sweet and tough all at the same time. Anything but wimpy.



This photo makes me think of a young faun, or satyr maybe, bathing in the river. Almost as if it was a study for a character in a painting by J.W Waterhouse, or one of the other Pre-Raphaelite painters.

Happy Birthday

Happy birthday Freakgirl! The confusing international dateline thingy means that it's her birthday here today, and her birthday there yesterday. Which is still today! Go figure, right?

Thanks for all the laughs FG, may there be many more.

In Russia, Bill Posters YOU!

Check out the striking (if not sometimes brutal) graphics of Soviet posters at the blog A Soviet Poster A Day.

Alexander Zakharov posts a different one (almost) daily, covering a wide variety of topics and visual styles, with a translation and background information. Fantastic!

Sometimes I Get An Irrational Lust For Things

....and right now, it's for a pair of these.




Spectator shoes.

And no, I don't know why.

Do You Think They Can?

I was all excited to read that the auditions for the Australian version of "So You Think You Can Dance" kick off this weekend in Adelaide. Then I read:

Dress to impress. There's a $500 cash prize for the weirdest, wildest, most wonderfully presented dancer at EVERY audition centre.

Oh crap. It's not bad enough that we have to watch that malarky on shows like Australian Idol, home of the singing chicken suited audition, but now they are going to taint my beloved SYTYCD with the same bs. One of the things I like about the original is that despite the fact that they always show a fair percentage of delusional people who really do Think They Can Dance (but can't), the idiot Spiderman/gorilla suited auditionee factor is absent.

Don't mess with my beloved Channel Ten.

::shakes fist::

Hump-Diddly-Ump Day

I couldn't seem to stay asleep last night. We're having an unusually warm start to Spring at the moment (ie: today is going to be 34C, which is what around 90F or more?! - for those of you non-metric-y types), and I kept waking up either too hot with the quilt on or too cold with just a sheet. Time to dig out the light blanket tonight I think.

Little Nemo In Slumberland by Winsor McKay [comprehsensive bio here].
Thanks for the links John!

Plus I managed to scrape a chunk of skin off my right elbow (sadly, not in any entertaining way I might add, before you ask) and every time I rolled over on my side it would hurt and wake me up. Bastard elbow.

Consequently I'm dragging my ass a bit today. I did just have a very encouraging and consoling slice of homemade Bread & Butter Pudding (Nigella Lawson recipe) that my boss brought in for morning tea. (Remember how I said I thought The Christians were trying to fatten me up? Seem less like a mad conspiracy theory now, doesn't it?)

Speaking of work, the applications for my promotion close today, a formality that saw them have to do the right thing and open the applications up to other employees. As far as I know I'm still the only applicant. This should mean a nice pay increase when the position kicks in. Oh, and my flatmate went to a job interview yesterday and starts his new job today! I'm happy for him, because he's been out of work for quite a while and it'll be good for him to have some income and normalcy back in his life.

I have the office to myself today, as The Loudest Person In The Building has a day off. I wonder if I could curl up under the desk for a wee kip?...

[Updated: It has just hit 36C - 97F! Hey Spring, you're supposed to be Spring not Summer. Gah, doofus.]

Now Stop!

I had to smile when I was scanning through this entry on Apartment Therapy and saw this picture of Aja's cute kitchen:



That EAT! graphic is super cute, but I think I would need to have other graphics on the other walls that read NOW STOP EATING!, STEP AWAY FROM THE PIZZA BOX! and ICE CREAM, AGAIN!? Oh man, I've packed on an unconscionable amout of weight this Winter just passed, and I really need to drop this now that we seem to have bypassed Spring altogether and moved straight into Summer.

Maybe I need to factor in some super-sized graphics for my home reno? GET MOVING LARDASS! maybe, for starters...

Old Friends & New

I've been thinking lately about how easy it is to become lazy in maintaining friendships. Particularly with friends that you have had for a long time, and that dependency, or constancy, can sort of fall into taking them for granted, you know? Also as many of my friends have started having their own families, or their own relationships, it's natural that their time and attention becomes focussed on those aspects of their lives.

I was feeling like I hadn't really been doing much lately to put active attention into some of these long term friendships of mine. I'd become sort of passive about catching up with people, enjoying seeing them when things were organised but not being active about it. It's easy to let time drift by without seeing each other.

So I thought it would be nice to have a large pinic on the holiday Monday yesterday, something that could accommodate friends with kids, friends without, friends with dogs, good food and drink, and a serious amount of lying around. Yesterday was a beautiful summery day in Sydney, although the only downside was the warm blustery wind that was whipping up a bit of a hay fever storm.

As it turns out it was also a great opportunity for Mikey (the lovely ex) to introduce his new boyfriend Evan to our circle of friends, and for us to meet a bunch of Evan's friends. It was a great afternoon with around 20 or so of us in total and all of my plans for eating, drinking and laying around were achieved. Yay! Yay for lying around with a full belly! In the late afternoon around 10 of us retired to the pub, both old friends and new, and then had a lovely Thai dinner under the stars while the heat of the afternoon mellowed into a mild evening.

By the time I got home around 8.30pm I was so knackered that I went to bed around 9 o'clock, having had a really great day.

Life Is A [Insert Word Here]

Cabaret. Of course, old chums.

I love theatre, I love music, and I love a good show tune. So it's no surprise that I love cabaret. A few days ago James O'Brien asked me if I wanted to come along to an evening of cabaret at The Stables Theatre, and I jumped at the chance.

I have a soft spot for The Stables Theatre. It actually is a converted horse stables. Once you climb the stairs from the small downstairs bar and ticket office, you find yourself in a space roughly the size of a large living room, with a small triangular stage and about 6 rows of tiered bench seating on two sides of the triangle. It's a small space, but there's a magic that can happen in that place. You are close enough to almost reach out and touch the performers, and because of the limitations of the space most of the productions are spare in terms of sets and trickery, so what you get is an intimate performance and not a lot of fakery. I've seen some wonderful shows there, the touching gay love story "Holding The Man" and a rollicking and very moving musical called "Only Heaven Knows" just to name two.

Anyhoo. The night was a fundraiser for another production to be staged later in the year. The Stables runs on a shoestring, good will, benefactors, fundraisers and an enthusiastic audience that appreciates this sort of up close and personal, sometimes raw and experimental, sort of theatre. It's so important I think to have a theatre that can stage new local works, which is what The Stables is able to do.

Last night's line up of 22 cabaret artistes performed around 25-26 songs. Some artists like Hayden Tee, Phil Scott and Chloe Dallimore are well known and others like the stunning 17 year old Elanoa Rokabaro are just starting to dazzle new audiences. It was wonderful (yes I can tell I'm gushing). The performers chose songs on the theme of Crime & Passion, so there were standards, original songs and even a hilarious intense version of "Guilty" by Banarama and an operatic "Janey's Got A Gun". A couple of the performances were ok, but most of them were fantastic. One of the theatre events where the dialogue between the performer and the audience creates something really special.

It was the first time I had met James's friend Colin, a retired head of drama from one of the large regional university campuses, and he was an absolute hoot. Hanging out in the laneway outside the theatre with a glass of wine at intermission (traditional at The Stables) I was introduced to a couple of actors and performers from the show. Afterwards we went for a late dinner nearby, and had some more laughs.

It was a great night, and a great reminder how much I love the theatre, darlings.

Out With The Old

I finally got around to purging the books I don't want and getting rid of them yesterday. After sitting around in 5 large bags for the past couple of weeks, I managed to offload about a third of them at a local secondhand bookstore and the rest went to Goodwill. Purged. Gone from my life. And now in their place I have $35 worth of store credit to get myself a couple of books at the store. (It's a good secondhand bookstore, always full of interesting stuff.)

Next, the great wardrobe purge.

The 3 Day Weekend Cometh

It's almost home time. I have some beers in the company of mens who like other mens lined up for this evening. It's hot outside. Tonight may even be the first cargo shorts evening of the new season (assuming I can get my fat ass into them). If there is a sudden flurry of scorched retinas, then you'll know I've bared my legs.

I have some knitting get togethers planned for the weekend, some shopping, some things to do around the house, and a big picnic afternoon on Monday.



And hopefully is it comes to a battle of Lust Versus Sanity, lust will prevail.

[Updated: If Friday night is any indicator, so far I'm happy to report that lust has prevailed.]

Things To Come, That Never Came

If you were a teenage sci-fi nerd like me, and share my interest in architecture, then you might understand why an impressively long and detailed article about architectural representation in science fiction cinema is enough to give me wood. Really.



It's especially interesting to me when the architecture, usually the city, becomes almost like a character in the film. Think of the dystopian cityscape of "Blade Runner", the future sterile utopia of "Logan's Run", the hypercities of films like "Things To Come" (above) or the nightly changing streets of "Dark City". These cityscapes become both symptoms and causes of the state of mind of the characters, as well as being sign posts that tell the audience this is not what you're used to.

[Link via things magazine]

Friday Five

• I am riding a massive sugar high from a slice of a workmate's birthday Pear & Ricotta Tart (with a brulee crust), and a second helping of French Pudding (a bread & butter pudding made with chocolate brioche). I can say one thing about The Christians, they sure can cater.
  
• I'm anticipating a teary sugar crash in a few hours. (Unless I top up and stave off with a serve of the Coconut & Caramel Tart I passed up earlier of course.)
  
• I've had a really craptastic week at work this week, and walking to work this morning I actually tried smiling on for size. Just to make sure I kept in practice.
  
• I saw a teabag lying in the middle of the street this morning. Which struck me as being a curious thing, I mean it wasn't like there was any garbage lying in the street or anything, just this one used teabag. Maybe someone was jogging with their morning cuppa?
  
• Three day weekend this weekend! Yay! So far the plans involve a couple of social get togethers, and a big picnic on Monday. I don't think I'll have to practice my smiling then.

Tinkering

After more than 3 years of the old dotty template I felt like it was time for a change. Viva la change! I'm not in love with look of things yet, but I'll be stuffing around, tapping things under the hood and sucking air through my teeth like I know what I'm doing over the next day or two, tweaking.

Peckish

Why am I feeling hungry all of a sudden?







[Inspired by the master.]

Home Inspiration

Tyson suggested I post a few pics of the sort things I was thinking about for my house, to give you guys an idea. Here's a few things to whet your appetites. Some I own, a couple I'd like to buy, and a few others are just to give you an idea of the sort of things I like.

1. Eileen Gray height adjustable side table.
(I'm the lucky owner of one of these. Gray was a member of the Bauhaus movement and this table designed in 1927 is one of her most famous pieces.)



2. Art Deco smoker's table.
(I found this pic on eBay, and it is exactly the same design as the table top of my table. Someone has removed this top off of its pedestal base at some point and converted it into just a mirror. Mine is still in the original condition, including the swing arm ashtray on one side.)



3. Scandi sofa from Freedom Furniture
(Sorry about the tiny, crappy pic but I had to cut this from their online catalogue. The 2.5 seater has a solid 5 button back, and two seat cushions. I've seen it in the store and it has a nice subtle retro look, without being twee or too bulky. Plus at around $900 it's a pretty good price. I'm not sure what colour I'd go for, maybe a sort of neutral natural linen colour that I can put more colourful throw pillows on.)



4. Isamu Noguchi coffee table
(I love this table, however, I have a bit of a hang up/phobia about glass coffee tables - I always picture myself falling through them for some reason. Irrational I know. Having said that, I'd probably deal with it just to have something this lovely in my house.)



5. Colour!
I quite like neutral tones with accents of strong colour; fresh leaf greens, darker reds, warm orange. My living room is painted a neutral colour called 'Leek', which is basically an off-white with a light tint of green, and one end wall is a deep venetian red called 'Seductress' (don't you love it?). I'm thinking of repainting my currently yellowy cream coloured bedroom (yucky) a similiar colour to the 'Leek'. I have an open fireplace in my bedroom that has a beautiful warm timber coloured mantle above it, and I think this smaller wall is just screaming out to be painted a lovely fresh green. The alternative would be a warmer neutral main colour, and maybe a sort of kumquat orange above the fireplace.

6. Bedroom desk chair
(I quite like this new Jakob chair from IKEA, and at $180 it's very reasonable. I know it looks like I like a lot of chrome furntiure so far, but I'd mix it up with warm timbers to make it all look less clinical.)



7. Inspirational homes.
There are lots of these!

I don't want to copy it, but I like the general style of Nicole & Brandon's house from Apartment Therapy Chicago. Clean lines, warm timbers, colour, a mix of modern and traditional, cool artwork. They even have the same IKEA 'Jakob' chair in their home office. Here's a whole bunch of thumbnails and Nicole has blogged about their home renovation on her blog Making It Lovely.

I hope this gives you a general idea Tyson!

Shocked By The Power

Amongst all of the other things I like to think about myself, I like to think I'm hard to shock. If not unflappable, well then at least hard to flap. However I was being a total comment whore checking the comments on some of my previous posts, and the following comment from my friend Graeme about our night out on Friday stopped me dead in my tracks...

I was a bit worried about Andrew though - he's so mopey without a boyfriend. He *really, really* needs a boyfriend at the moment.

Which *really, really* surprised me. (BTW - this isn't a criticism of Graeme, just hang in there until I get to the point in my eccentric fashion.)

If you've ever been in a situation where you think you are giving off one sort of vibe, only to find out that people are getting something completely different, you'll know where I'm going with this. I felt pretty good on Friday, tired and a bit back-sore, but having fun being out with the boys. Enjoying myself. So I was kind of surprised and perturbed that Graeme thought I was mopey.

What's interesting to me is if there was a disconnect between how I think I'm acting, and how other people perceive me, you know? That's my point here. I generally feel like I'm a self aware person. Obviously nobody can control how other people perceive them, and everyone filters what they see through their own set of beliefs, assumptions and opinions. But a big disconnect like that is startling.

Or maybe I just think too much. :)

Gimme Shelter

Maybe it's the sap rising quality of Spring, maybe it's a feeling that I need some change on the homefront, but I've become obsessed with the idea of re-doing my house. I've taken to stalking my favourite interior design related websites (Apartment Therapy, Desire To Inspire and Design*Sponge just for starters) flicking through furniture catalogues and dreaming about paint chips.

I'm in a small rental, which puts the brakes on a bit, but I rent from friends and have some leeway to do minor works to the place. For starters I'm thinking of repainting my bedroom. I'm also on a tight budget, partly because I committed myself to the concept of updating my home electronics over the next 3 or 4 months.

For starters it's time to buy a new sofa. My poor old sofa is looking like a disaster these days, the upholstery starting to wear through. I thought about recovering it, but I'm not even that keen on the shape of it anymore. My taste has moved towards more of a streamlined midcentury modern look, and my sofa is more of an oversized roll armed country style.

(The thought of getting the sofa out of my house is daunting, I remember the struggle the removalists had getting that sucker in...)

What I don't want to do is make my house look like an IKEA room set, or too self consciously retro. I already have some nice pieces, a small circular Art Deco smoker's table (with a groovy etched deer design in the mirror top) and an Eileen Gray side table that I love.

Anyhoo, I'm not sure where this ramble is going but if anyone has some suggestions for other inspirational design blogs hit me up in the comments. Too many ideas are never enough!

Visual Noise Or Layers Of Meaning?

I suspect the answer is "both".







I took these pics last weekend, while wandering the back lanes of Newtown. I think tagging is a particularly noxious form of visual noise, especially in the disrespectful way that taggers delight in defacing otherwise pristine objects. A ruined sculpture in a park near me is a perfect example.

However, tags and other forms of grafitti obviously have a language of their own. Meanings, varying from "I was here" to "Fuck you" probably. Layered like this they become almost runic, archane, indeciferable almost but still with meaning to those in the know.

Ugly to my eyes, but I guess I'm only one beholder.

A Weekend Most Excellent

I know the title of this post kind of says it all really. It kind of shows my hand before the cards have even been fully dealt. Don't tell, show right?

The weekend kicked off with a Friday night out with James and Graeme, trawling (trolling?) the hots spots of Oxford Street - The Midnight Shift downstairs, The Oxford, Palms. I hadn't been out on Oxford Street for ages, and it was fun for a change. Palms was the most fun, and I even managed to get my dance on. I've still got moves.

Saturday morning involved a haircut and a bijou hangover. We love Haircut Day! This Haircut Day involved blonde streaks, and while I quite like the end result it's not as good as I have had in the past. A bit too subtle, just a general lightening rather than the sunkissed surfer boy I was hoping for. Whatevs. I don't hate it, and I've had a few compliments this morning so it can't be all bad. The EGO must have it's way.

Post haircut I met up with Mikey (the lovely ex), his new boyfriend Evan (who is absolutely adorable) and a friend of Evan's (the handsome Paul) for brunch. Afterwards, in the early afternoon, Mikey, Evan and I headed over to The Bank Hotel to laze around on their luxe banquettes, sip a few wines and watch Fashion TV on the big screen.

You have to try real hard to get that much gay in one sentence.

Sunday I had a sleep in, futzed around at home doing laundry and such, and then headed to pub knitting at The Courthouse Hotel. The weather was glorious, once you were out of the cool wind, and I even got a little sunburnt. (Still not quite sunkissed surfer boy, but you can try right?) Then home in the late afternoon to finish getting the weekend's chores out of the way, and watch the trainwreck that is this year's Australian Idol. (No link, they're not deserving.)

So, as I stated a weekend Most Excellent. You?

Just Buy Me A Beige Cardigan

Some slippers. A hot water bottle.

Because apparently I'm an old person. I have sciatica, according to my doctor. That's like an old person thing, right? Like listening to talkback radio and eating caramels. Like greeting cards with pastel roses on them and "where did I put my glasses?".