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Wednesday, July 31
That was then and this is now.
In my local CD emporium at lunchtime today I couldn’t help but notice the outrageous amount of Ibiza compilations on sale. The Ibiza bubble was supposed to ‘burst’ a few years ago but apparently still hasn’t, in fact the whole thing seems to be bigger than ever. Is it now a phenomenon?
In 1989 I was a regular at Dave Dorrels ‘Love’ at the Wag Club. Acid house was over and a purer version of the sound we call ‘house’ was beginning to emerge (by purer I mean a more European version of that crispy sound invented in a big black gay disco in Chicago). Anyway, the Wag and Charlie Chester decided to take a planeload of clubbers to the island of Ibiza for two weeks of parties. Though Ibiza already had the huge clubs it didn’t yet have the reputation it was to gain a few years later. For £299 you got a flight, an apartment and a club pass into the various one nighters that they were arranging. Not bad. The clubs were either in San Antonio or Ibiza Town or on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere so the organisers helpfully put us all into apartments nowhere near any of these places in a family orientated resort called Santa Eulalia. We had to hire scooters to get around, which, on unlit Ibizan roads, proved to be like ‘Death Race 2000’ every night. Needless to say the clubs were fantastic. Huge hangers where all drinks cost £10 (whisky, beer, water, whatever), where dance floors turned into swimming pools, where the sun rose over terraces far too early and where Sean Ryder could be seen most nights collapsed in a corner covered in piss and vomit. 808 State, The Farm and A Man Called Adam all played live that week (The Beloved were there begging to be let near a stage but thankfully were always refused: professional Ibizans, who needs ‘em). Channel Four followed us around and made a documentary that they only (appropriately) showed at 4am on Sunday mornings. I’ve never been back to Ibiza since and I won’t forget the utter exhaustion I felt when I got home. It wasn't a holiday if you need a holiday when you get back from holiday.
Tuesday, July 30
I never go out on a school night.
Last night was great. I walked from Victoria to Chinatown via Whitehall to meet Darren at 6pm. We had a delicious meal at Won Kei (non air-conditioned but we got to sit under a wall fan). Then we stood outside Comptons enjoying their ‘all drinks £1.50’ promotion while taking the piss out of all the queens (I’m sure they took the piss out of us too so it all balances out). We met up with some friends and toddled over to the theatre at 9.30pm. Kiki and Herb were ace. Very funny banter in between the songs about how they’ve been together since the 40’s and are responsible for the careers of most of the great recording artists of the 20th century. Their versions of songs by Kate Bush, Radiohead, Wu Tang Clan and Bonnie Tyler were very poignant and gaudy and bloody funny. And yes, the theatre was air-conditioned, twas bliss. We got home at midnight and realised we hadn’t set the video for ‘Six Feet Under’. Doh! Good job it’s repeated on Wednesday.
Arriving for breakfast naked not recommended.
A friend wrote to me today about his weekend trip to Moscow to see an ‘ex’. This ‘ex’ is now a psycho Russian rent boy/man (lets call him Igor). It all makes a picnic in an East London Park sound a bit boring.
“I arrived late on Thursday night but didn't tell him I was arriving till Friday. We met on Friday for lunch. He started drinking vodka straight away. We were in quite a nice café so I decided not to drink because I had a feeling it was gonna get messy. Igor started an argument with another diner so we basically had to leave. Next we met an American friend of his, which was a huge relief for me. We went to another café where Igor abused the waiters, casting aspersions about their sexual orientation and even asked one of them for a date. Needless to say we were asked to leave. Dinner that night was at a smart Chinese restaurant. The American was still with us and Igor was really getting on my tits by this time, I thought if he ate some food he would settle down a bit. But he didn’t. The restaurant was lovely, very expensive. Igor started abusing the staff once again - I thought ‘here we go again' so halfway through the meal I left, walked out, and left them to it.
At 5.30 the next morning Igor turns up at my hotel with another dodgy Russian and a bottle of whisky. They start drinking so I get dressed and head out to do some early morning sightseeing. I return about 11am hoping he would be sleeping it off. I get to my room and the door is open and the police are there. Igor has gone crazy in the hotel. He’s drunk and out of his mind and doesn't even know where he is. The hotel security guard takes me aside and explains that at 9am Igor had walked into the hotel restaurant stark naked. This was of course, after he had shit himself in the lift on the way down. He had ‘it’ all over his feet, the carpet was covered, absolutely disgusting. I got rid of the police with a bit of money and made him take a shower and put him to bed. I collected my stuff whilst he was asleep and went straight to the airport and bought a one way ticket home. So all in all I had a great weekend, very interesting. What did you do?”
Last night was great. I walked from Victoria to Chinatown via Whitehall to meet Darren at 6pm. We had a delicious meal at Won Kei (non air-conditioned but we got to sit under a wall fan). Then we stood outside Comptons enjoying their ‘all drinks £1.50’ promotion while taking the piss out of all the queens (I’m sure they took the piss out of us too so it all balances out). We met up with some friends and toddled over to the theatre at 9.30pm. Kiki and Herb were ace. Very funny banter in between the songs about how they’ve been together since the 40’s and are responsible for the careers of most of the great recording artists of the 20th century. Their versions of songs by Kate Bush, Radiohead, Wu Tang Clan and Bonnie Tyler were very poignant and gaudy and bloody funny. And yes, the theatre was air-conditioned, twas bliss. We got home at midnight and realised we hadn’t set the video for ‘Six Feet Under’. Doh! Good job it’s repeated on Wednesday.
Arriving for breakfast naked not recommended.
A friend wrote to me today about his weekend trip to Moscow to see an ‘ex’. This ‘ex’ is now a psycho Russian rent boy/man (lets call him Igor). It all makes a picnic in an East London Park sound a bit boring.
“I arrived late on Thursday night but didn't tell him I was arriving till Friday. We met on Friday for lunch. He started drinking vodka straight away. We were in quite a nice café so I decided not to drink because I had a feeling it was gonna get messy. Igor started an argument with another diner so we basically had to leave. Next we met an American friend of his, which was a huge relief for me. We went to another café where Igor abused the waiters, casting aspersions about their sexual orientation and even asked one of them for a date. Needless to say we were asked to leave. Dinner that night was at a smart Chinese restaurant. The American was still with us and Igor was really getting on my tits by this time, I thought if he ate some food he would settle down a bit. But he didn’t. The restaurant was lovely, very expensive. Igor started abusing the staff once again - I thought ‘here we go again' so halfway through the meal I left, walked out, and left them to it.
At 5.30 the next morning Igor turns up at my hotel with another dodgy Russian and a bottle of whisky. They start drinking so I get dressed and head out to do some early morning sightseeing. I return about 11am hoping he would be sleeping it off. I get to my room and the door is open and the police are there. Igor has gone crazy in the hotel. He’s drunk and out of his mind and doesn't even know where he is. The hotel security guard takes me aside and explains that at 9am Igor had walked into the hotel restaurant stark naked. This was of course, after he had shit himself in the lift on the way down. He had ‘it’ all over his feet, the carpet was covered, absolutely disgusting. I got rid of the police with a bit of money and made him take a shower and put him to bed. I collected my stuff whilst he was asleep and went straight to the airport and bought a one way ticket home. So all in all I had a great weekend, very interesting. What did you do?”
Monday, July 29
Sunday, July 28
Last night we watched two French films 'The Closet' and 'Savage Nights'. 'The Closet' was a light comedy with lovely performances but not much soul and 'Savage Nights' is a beautiful tale of love and the horrors it can cause.
Speaking of our Gallic cousins, we'll be in Paris for a long weekend in two weeks. Darrens birthday present from me. Staying here and travelling first class on the Eurostar. As most Parisians escape the city in August there will just be me and Darren and a couple of million other tourists in town that weekend. Anyone wanna join us for dinner at Chartier?
Off to Walthamstow Mela this afternoon for some nice Asian grub.
Speaking of our Gallic cousins, we'll be in Paris for a long weekend in two weeks. Darrens birthday present from me. Staying here and travelling first class on the Eurostar. As most Parisians escape the city in August there will just be me and Darren and a couple of million other tourists in town that weekend. Anyone wanna join us for dinner at Chartier?
Off to Walthamstow Mela this afternoon for some nice Asian grub.
Saturday, July 27
Reflecting upon yesterdays post about life in London, I realised I hadn't included enough 'cool' stuff that I do. The last thing I want is for someone to read this and decide that London is a dump where opportunities for fun abound but no one can be arsed to actually do any of it (which, 90% of the time, I can't).
I should tell you about the number of groovy clubs for poofs that now play punk rock tunes, our favourite being Duckie. About the great markets in Camden, Brick Lane and Greenwich where you can buy stuff from past decades. And the fantastic restaurants like Won Kei in Chinatown, the vegetarian curry place in Chapel Market Islington, the pie and mash shops of the East End and the 24 hour jewish bagel joint on Brick Lane, where, for less than a fiver, you can pig-out big time (quantity, not quality, is our mantra). I should also tell you about the shops that only exist in our fair city like Magma books, Bond, the Algerian Coffee Stores in Soho, Forbidden Planet (I know they have other branches in the UK but ours is the best), Liberty and the really big Woolworths in Walthamstow.
There are the parks where we wander (Londons lungs) like Greenwich, St James and Soho Square and the streets that make us think of olde London towne. I go to these places infrequently but I do go.
Then there's the people. 10 million gorgeous people. All using the same train as me when I travel by underground.
And I can buy the NME on tuesday evening (instead of waiting till Thursday morning as I used to in Northumberland).
When I speak to my parents on the telephone on Monday mornings and they ask me what I got up to at the weekend and I reply "not much" they always say the same thing: "I don't know why you bother living in London". I do.
I should tell you about the number of groovy clubs for poofs that now play punk rock tunes, our favourite being Duckie. About the great markets in Camden, Brick Lane and Greenwich where you can buy stuff from past decades. And the fantastic restaurants like Won Kei in Chinatown, the vegetarian curry place in Chapel Market Islington, the pie and mash shops of the East End and the 24 hour jewish bagel joint on Brick Lane, where, for less than a fiver, you can pig-out big time (quantity, not quality, is our mantra). I should also tell you about the shops that only exist in our fair city like Magma books, Bond, the Algerian Coffee Stores in Soho, Forbidden Planet (I know they have other branches in the UK but ours is the best), Liberty and the really big Woolworths in Walthamstow.
There are the parks where we wander (Londons lungs) like Greenwich, St James and Soho Square and the streets that make us think of olde London towne. I go to these places infrequently but I do go.
Then there's the people. 10 million gorgeous people. All using the same train as me when I travel by underground.
And I can buy the NME on tuesday evening (instead of waiting till Thursday morning as I used to in Northumberland).
When I speak to my parents on the telephone on Monday mornings and they ask me what I got up to at the weekend and I reply "not much" they always say the same thing: "I don't know why you bother living in London". I do.
Friday, July 26
London Calling
Apart from the obvious reason (work), why do I live in London? My reasons for staying in the city that infuriates me (yet I remain devoted to) are many and varied.
1. It’s Englands Capital and I fell in love with it when my junior school brought us here for a week in 1975.
I saw Jesus Christ Superstar at the theatre that week. We were up in the gods (cheap seats) which I thought must be the most expensive as we got free mini-binoculars to use.
2. Though I never do, I know I can go the movies at midnight, buy a kebab at 5am, shop for cd’s and books till at least 11pm, get a bus to the end of my street at ALL hours, see Hollywood A-list stars on stage in world class theatres, buy yellow peppers and mangoes at most corner shops, swim naked at numerous swimming pools, have condoms delivered to my door…… The fact that I CAN do these things is what makes all the difference to me.
3. Heathrow, Gatwick, Stansted and Luton. Cheap flights from these airports have enabled me to have a lot of fun abroad.
4. When it all goes wrong (the summer heat, tube strikes, muggings, filth and hatred) the one thing I gain is that potent feeling that I’m alive and living in one big, motherfucking hell-hole of a city. Which for a simple country boy like myself is quite an achievement.
Apart from the obvious reason (work), why do I live in London? My reasons for staying in the city that infuriates me (yet I remain devoted to) are many and varied.
1. It’s Englands Capital and I fell in love with it when my junior school brought us here for a week in 1975.
I saw Jesus Christ Superstar at the theatre that week. We were up in the gods (cheap seats) which I thought must be the most expensive as we got free mini-binoculars to use.
2. Though I never do, I know I can go the movies at midnight, buy a kebab at 5am, shop for cd’s and books till at least 11pm, get a bus to the end of my street at ALL hours, see Hollywood A-list stars on stage in world class theatres, buy yellow peppers and mangoes at most corner shops, swim naked at numerous swimming pools, have condoms delivered to my door…… The fact that I CAN do these things is what makes all the difference to me.
3. Heathrow, Gatwick, Stansted and Luton. Cheap flights from these airports have enabled me to have a lot of fun abroad.
4. When it all goes wrong (the summer heat, tube strikes, muggings, filth and hatred) the one thing I gain is that potent feeling that I’m alive and living in one big, motherfucking hell-hole of a city. Which for a simple country boy like myself is quite an achievement.
Thursday, July 25
Go Billy!
With a face like that, Billy the mongrel just had to be famous one day. He's just been named Britain's Ugliest Dog because of his dumb expression, vampire-like fangs and dog-rough coat. The 10-year-old whippet cross only has two teeth left and six-inch long hairs growing out of his ears. His owner, Marilyn, got him as a stray eight years ago and loves Billy to bits but even she says he "looks like an extra from a Dracula film". So it was no surprise when his appearance drew gasps from the audience at a dog "beauty" contest in London. Billy's got the last laugh though - he's been signed by an animal modelling agency. Hurrah! It's so British to cheer for the under-dog.
With a face like that, Billy the mongrel just had to be famous one day. He's just been named Britain's Ugliest Dog because of his dumb expression, vampire-like fangs and dog-rough coat. The 10-year-old whippet cross only has two teeth left and six-inch long hairs growing out of his ears. His owner, Marilyn, got him as a stray eight years ago and loves Billy to bits but even she says he "looks like an extra from a Dracula film". So it was no surprise when his appearance drew gasps from the audience at a dog "beauty" contest in London. Billy's got the last laugh though - he's been signed by an animal modelling agency. Hurrah! It's so British to cheer for the under-dog.
Wednesday, July 24
I come from a mining town in Northumberland called Ashington. I left school at 16 and went down the pit just like my Dad. I worked there for three years until the start of the 1984 miners strike. I resigned at the start of the strike and moved to London. Never looked back. However, I am extremely proud of my roots and my home town and want to tell you about something special.
The Ashington Art Group began in 1934 and was an entirely new concept for the miners of the town who were asked to join (this was a community with no history of art appreciation). It started as an evening class held once a week by the Workers Education Association. They were sent an art tutor from King’s College, Newcastle upon Tyne, who was faced with the problem of introducing the subject of art to men who had no knowledge of painting at all, who had never even seen an original work of art, and who spent their entire working life underground. The tutor encouraged the men to paint from their own experiences, and once a week he would set them a subject to work on at home and then bring to class for criticism. This proved to be very difficult at first as the men had to learn to lay open feelings and memories normally held strictly in check. The idea of painting gradually became an obsession with the men, and they painted on any materials they could find - canvas, wood, cardboard and paper. The paintings were not intended for exhibition or sale, they were simply regarded as a venture in self-expression. Gradually their work began to arouse interest and was exhibited in public as an art educational model.
The idea that art need not be the exclusive pass-time of the privileged shone through the work of the Ashington Group, and it became the model for similar ventures in other parts of the country. The Ashington Group, however, has remained unique among amateur art groups. The desire to illustrate their hard life (below and above ground) brought an intensity to their art rarely found in other amateur work. The Ashington paintings record an important chapter in social and industrial history. Their views on work, home and community make their art a lasting testament to self-help and a permanent example both to artists and to society at large.
See their work here.
Monday, July 22
I've seen that face before (libertango)
On sunday morning we sat down to watch Paul Bartels masterpiece 'Eating Raoul' (1982) on dvd. Tis a black comedy about sexual desire, canibalism and the morally stagnant LA of the 80's. Anyway, throughout the movie I was really bugged about the guy who played the sexy Chicano burgler/meat dealer, Robert Beltran. I knew his face but from where I knew not. A quick search on IMDB revealed that he was Chokotay in Voyager! Mystery solved. Then it happened again. A woman dressed in fur at a swingers party near the end of the movie triggered my memory but again I couldn't place her. Turned out to be Edie McClurg. Edie played the school secretary in 'Ferris Buellers Day Off' (a movie I watched at least once a month in the 80's). She also did a great turn as a car rental agent in 'Trains, Planes and Automobiles'.
Also watched Mike Leigh's 'Career Girls'. Cringingly excellent.
Sunday, July 21
A very pleasant surprise.
Saturday was nice. Got up early, read some blogs, cut the grass, watched 'Amelie' (very twee and sweet), went to the Sea Breeze Fish Bar in Walthamstow market for a greasy lunch with Darren and Lucio, had a nap, cut my hair, had a bath and then drove to Duckie in South London with Darren, Lucio and Lucios latest boy toy.
As I've mentioned before Duckie is our favourite club. The only place to hear the theme from 'Batman' and 'My Perfect Cousin' by the Undertones and 'Stop In The Name Of Love' by the Supremes and countless other kitsch oddities. The dj's, The Readers Wifes, now have their own website, here it is. Anyway, Amy Lame, came on stage at midnight to announce tonights performers, Kiki and Herb! After a sharp intake of breath from me and Darren (we have tickets to see Kiki and Herbs full length theatre show next week) we thanked our lucky stars that we had forced ourselves to go out tonight instead of just festering in front of the telly or computer. The performers at Duckie can be hit and miss (mostly miss) so we never check out who's on before we leave the house. What a very pleasant surprise.
Kiki and Herb did four numbers in their own drunken, bad lounge act style. Space Oddity by Bowie, Fox in the Snow by Belle and Sebastian, Hardcore by Pulp and Running up that Hill by Kate Bush. Most folk at the club seemed to know who they were and gave them a fantastic reception but there were a few 'new faces' around looking a bit bemused thinking 'what is this shit?'. Can't wait for the full theatrical event now. They're on here.
I drove the drunks home at 3am but not before we stocked up on salmon and cream cheese bagels at the 24 hour jewish bakery on Brick Lane. The sun was coming up when we went to bed.
Saturday was nice. Got up early, read some blogs, cut the grass, watched 'Amelie' (very twee and sweet), went to the Sea Breeze Fish Bar in Walthamstow market for a greasy lunch with Darren and Lucio, had a nap, cut my hair, had a bath and then drove to Duckie in South London with Darren, Lucio and Lucios latest boy toy.
As I've mentioned before Duckie is our favourite club. The only place to hear the theme from 'Batman' and 'My Perfect Cousin' by the Undertones and 'Stop In The Name Of Love' by the Supremes and countless other kitsch oddities. The dj's, The Readers Wifes, now have their own website, here it is. Anyway, Amy Lame, came on stage at midnight to announce tonights performers, Kiki and Herb! After a sharp intake of breath from me and Darren (we have tickets to see Kiki and Herbs full length theatre show next week) we thanked our lucky stars that we had forced ourselves to go out tonight instead of just festering in front of the telly or computer. The performers at Duckie can be hit and miss (mostly miss) so we never check out who's on before we leave the house. What a very pleasant surprise.
Kiki and Herb did four numbers in their own drunken, bad lounge act style. Space Oddity by Bowie, Fox in the Snow by Belle and Sebastian, Hardcore by Pulp and Running up that Hill by Kate Bush. Most folk at the club seemed to know who they were and gave them a fantastic reception but there were a few 'new faces' around looking a bit bemused thinking 'what is this shit?'. Can't wait for the full theatrical event now. They're on here.
I drove the drunks home at 3am but not before we stocked up on salmon and cream cheese bagels at the 24 hour jewish bakery on Brick Lane. The sun was coming up when we went to bed.
Saturday, July 20
Friday, July 19
My current top ten coasters for the 2002 riding season:
(all photo's taken by me)
1. GE Force - Holiday World, Germany.
Went straight to number 1 a few months ago. Incredible airtime and comfort for a steel coaster.
2. Gwazi - Busch Gardens. Tampa, Florida.
A wooden twister that brings tears to the eyes.
3. Grand National - Blackpool.
50 years old and still packing a punch. One of the best racers I've ever been on.
4. Oblivion - Alton Towers.
Terrifying.
5. Hulk - Islands of Adventure, Florida.
HUGE green monster of a ride with immense speed AND an incredible launched lift hill.
6. Manum XL200 - Cedar Point, Ohio.
My old number 1. Still awesome fun.
7. Millenium Force - Cedar Point, Ohio.
Over 300 ft tall and nearly 100mph. Blackouts not un-heard of.
8. Raging Bull - Six Flags Great America, Illinois.
Smooth operator. Like sitting in an armchair doing 80 mph.
9. Shivering Timbers - Michigans Adventure, Michigan.
The best out and back in the world. You will spend more time out of your seat than in it.
10.The Beast - Paramount Kings Island, Ohio.
A long and fast trip through the woods. We couldn't get enough and kept going round and round and.............
(all photo's taken by me)
1. GE Force - Holiday World, Germany.
Went straight to number 1 a few months ago. Incredible airtime and comfort for a steel coaster.
2. Gwazi - Busch Gardens. Tampa, Florida.
A wooden twister that brings tears to the eyes.
3. Grand National - Blackpool.
50 years old and still packing a punch. One of the best racers I've ever been on.
4. Oblivion - Alton Towers.
Terrifying.
5. Hulk - Islands of Adventure, Florida.
HUGE green monster of a ride with immense speed AND an incredible launched lift hill.
6. Manum XL200 - Cedar Point, Ohio.
My old number 1. Still awesome fun.
7. Millenium Force - Cedar Point, Ohio.
Over 300 ft tall and nearly 100mph. Blackouts not un-heard of.
8. Raging Bull - Six Flags Great America, Illinois.
Smooth operator. Like sitting in an armchair doing 80 mph.
9. Shivering Timbers - Michigans Adventure, Michigan.
The best out and back in the world. You will spend more time out of your seat than in it.
10.The Beast - Paramount Kings Island, Ohio.
A long and fast trip through the woods. We couldn't get enough and kept going round and round and.............
Thursday, July 18
Today the new Kazakh Ambassador to London presented his credentials to the Queen. I, being quite important in these sort of circles, got to attend. Queeny didn't show up so Prince Charles presided instead. Prince Edward poked his nose in for a few minutes too. The kazakhs arrived in horse drawn carriages with a full police escort. The Queen doesn't usually say much at these events but Prince Charles wouldn't shut up. And he laughed like a drain at his own jokes. Afterwards we retired to a local hotel (luckily the Royals remained at the Palace) for a buffet lunch where I was forced to make small talk with boring businessmen. Chit chat has never been my forte. Top tucker though.
Tomorrow I'm meeting with Madonna to discuss schools for her kids. Not really.
Wednesday, July 17
When I was 15 and in my final year year at school (yeah, I left at 16!) I bunked off with a mate and we took the bus into Newcastle. We lived in Ashington which is a mining town about 20 miles north of Newcastle. It's a dump. Anyway, the reason we played hooky that day was because Bow Wow Wow were playing the University that night and we were going to try and buy a ticket and get someone to sign us into the students union to see the gig. In those days you had to be 18 years old and a student to gain entry to concerts and we did not look 18 so it was all a huge gamble. We hung around the doors of the venue looking for kind faced students (oxymoron) to sign us in so we could buy the tickets. Needless to say none of the duffel coat wearing bastards would do it so we hung around sulking and debating whether to go home or not.
Then our luck changed. The roadies and equipment for Bow Wow Wow arrived in a big lorry and we got to watch as they started to unload (it's amazing the things you find fascinating at 15). They saw us watching and started to give us stuff to carry in, BINGO! we were inside. We stayed and watched the band sound check and then just sat with the roadies till the gig started. We got to see Bow Wow Wow without paying or begging/bribing any students to sign us in. And the band tore the place apart in their Viv Westwood pirate outfits. Oh it was magical.
The next day at school was soooooooooo annoying. No one believed our story. This great day out, hob-nobbing with the punk glitterati, couldn't be shared with anyone because they DIDN'T WANT to believe that it had happened to us. We were two spotty, unpopular weirdo's and cool stuff just doesn't happen to losers like that. The moral of this story is: the camera never lies so don't leave home without one. Oh, and students are twats.
Monday, July 15
We got to the theatre early last night so we were standing around outside people watching. A big black limo with blacked out windows pulls up to the curb and a leggy beauty teeters out onto the pavement in very high heels. She walks towards us smiling. I say “ hi doll!” and Darren says “good luck tonight”, she says “thanks” and pulls her huge mouth into a gorgeous grin and disappears through the stage door. We swooned (as anyone would in the presence of an icon).
Sandra walked on stage to enormous cheers. Her monologues were very political and the events last September in NYC seemed to be the springboard for a lot of her rants. No one escaped her vitriol; Bush, the firemen and cops, Al Queda and the ‘new’ New Yorkers and their post 9/11 consciousness. But it was all done in that wonderful Bernhard fashion where she almost persuades you that her view of the world is the only view worth having. She did the whole show in jeans and a t-shirt (except for a couple of numbers she sang in her bra with her jeans loosened revealing her skimpy panties). No costume changes this time. Her talent for conjuring up a certain time and place is still outstanding as shown in a great song about driving across America to San Francisco in 1968. Highlight of the night? Without a doubt, her version of ‘Little Red Corvette’ which sent the crowd wild. Come back soon Sandra, we miss you.
Sunday, July 14
Bet your bottom dollar, come what may!
Fucking hell, 2 sunny days in a row! Sorry to be so coarse but this summer so far has been such a non-event (weather wise) that the sight of the sun 2 days in a row has shocked me.
Yesterday me and Darren drove to Greenwich for the day. We parked the car on Blackheath and walked through Greenwich Park down to the High Street. We never knew how beautiful that park is. The good weather was responsible for lots of top looking totty playing footy with their tops off and for this we were grateful. If you are into retro stuff (especially 50's, 60's and 70's ephemera) then Greenwich is the place to go. The markets there are excellent, and so much cheaper than Camden or Brick Lane. We didn't buy anything but so easily could have. I'm mad for 70's furniture so it was pretty heartbreaking to walk around ooooooohing and aaaaaaaahing at various pieces knowing that there was no room at the inn for them. This shop was fantastic.
We had a traditional cockney lunch at Goddards Pie and Mash shop before we strolled over to see the Cutty Sark. Which is a big old ship.
We topped the day off by going to see 'Minority Report' at Greenwich Cinema. Darren loved it but I thought it was just OK. I was bored in the middle but liked the way the movie looked. All blue hues and very bright white light. I was pleased to see that GAP and Ben and Jerrys will still be around in 60 years time.
Sandra Bernhard tonight at Shepherds Bush Empire. Hurrah!
Fucking hell, 2 sunny days in a row! Sorry to be so coarse but this summer so far has been such a non-event (weather wise) that the sight of the sun 2 days in a row has shocked me.
Yesterday me and Darren drove to Greenwich for the day. We parked the car on Blackheath and walked through Greenwich Park down to the High Street. We never knew how beautiful that park is. The good weather was responsible for lots of top looking totty playing footy with their tops off and for this we were grateful. If you are into retro stuff (especially 50's, 60's and 70's ephemera) then Greenwich is the place to go. The markets there are excellent, and so much cheaper than Camden or Brick Lane. We didn't buy anything but so easily could have. I'm mad for 70's furniture so it was pretty heartbreaking to walk around ooooooohing and aaaaaaaahing at various pieces knowing that there was no room at the inn for them. This shop was fantastic.
We had a traditional cockney lunch at Goddards Pie and Mash shop before we strolled over to see the Cutty Sark. Which is a big old ship.
We topped the day off by going to see 'Minority Report' at Greenwich Cinema. Darren loved it but I thought it was just OK. I was bored in the middle but liked the way the movie looked. All blue hues and very bright white light. I was pleased to see that GAP and Ben and Jerrys will still be around in 60 years time.
Sandra Bernhard tonight at Shepherds Bush Empire. Hurrah!
Friday, July 12
the Beatles were number one when I was born
And so Friday arrives. I've been very tired this week, not sleeping at all well. I got out of the bath last night after a quick soak and Darren kindly pointed out that "you look like death". Nice.
'Scrubs' started last night on channel 4 and was good. We saw a few episodes while we were in Florida earlier this year and they were better than last nights edition so it must improve as it rolls on. 'Six Feet Under' remains the TV highlight of the week but 'Big Brother' is proving to be very addictive. Tim must die.
I've been busy making some new crispy electronica sounds this week and they should be broadcastable quite soon. In the meantime don't forget about my earlier masterpieces which are still pulling in the punters here.
Happiness arrives in many forms but is fleeting and must be squeezed dry when it's in your hands. We all slip in and out of periods of gloom/ joy/ depression/ anxiety/ jealousy/ bliss/ ecstasy/ sorrow........all feelings associated with the living. Grateful to be breathing in 2002, thank you Mum!
And so Friday arrives. I've been very tired this week, not sleeping at all well. I got out of the bath last night after a quick soak and Darren kindly pointed out that "you look like death". Nice.
'Scrubs' started last night on channel 4 and was good. We saw a few episodes while we were in Florida earlier this year and they were better than last nights edition so it must improve as it rolls on. 'Six Feet Under' remains the TV highlight of the week but 'Big Brother' is proving to be very addictive. Tim must die.
I've been busy making some new crispy electronica sounds this week and they should be broadcastable quite soon. In the meantime don't forget about my earlier masterpieces which are still pulling in the punters here.
Happiness arrives in many forms but is fleeting and must be squeezed dry when it's in your hands. We all slip in and out of periods of gloom/ joy/ depression/ anxiety/ jealousy/ bliss/ ecstasy/ sorrow........all feelings associated with the living. Grateful to be breathing in 2002, thank you Mum!
Wednesday, July 10
NewsAlert!
Panic gripped the streets of London this morning when patches of sky took on an unusual blue colour and a ball of fire appeared above the city. The phenomenon, known as 'The Sun' and commonly found in Mediterranean countries, unleashed a terrifying heat and brightness upon the capital, causing many pedestrians to take off their hats and scarves, while motorists were able to turn both their headlights and wipers off. Tony Blair urged people to be calm and return to work as normal stating: "We've seen this sort of thing before but it never lasts." There are forecasts that 'The Sun' could be seen throughout the weekend but a spokesman for No.10 said, "I wouldn't hold my breath".
(Reuters, London)
Panic gripped the streets of London this morning when patches of sky took on an unusual blue colour and a ball of fire appeared above the city. The phenomenon, known as 'The Sun' and commonly found in Mediterranean countries, unleashed a terrifying heat and brightness upon the capital, causing many pedestrians to take off their hats and scarves, while motorists were able to turn both their headlights and wipers off. Tony Blair urged people to be calm and return to work as normal stating: "We've seen this sort of thing before but it never lasts." There are forecasts that 'The Sun' could be seen throughout the weekend but a spokesman for No.10 said, "I wouldn't hold my breath".
(Reuters, London)
Tuesday, July 9
my daddy, my daddy!
despite a taste for sick foreign horror films and vintage 70's porn 'the railway children' remains one of my favourite movies. when i was a wee lad in newcastle i would watch it whenever it was on tv (which seemed to be every few months back then). remember the scary landslide? or the russian writer 'mummy' takes care of? what about the bit where they collect birthday gifts for perks (bernard cribbens) and he then refuses them? and what about that bit where they save the life of a cross country runner (who surely must have been a poof). or the bit where they are watching the train go past their house one morning and everyone on board is waving newspapers at them? oh, i'm filling up just thinking about it. watch the trailer here and tell me i'm not the only 30 something who wanted to be jenny agutter when he was 12 years old.
despite a taste for sick foreign horror films and vintage 70's porn 'the railway children' remains one of my favourite movies. when i was a wee lad in newcastle i would watch it whenever it was on tv (which seemed to be every few months back then). remember the scary landslide? or the russian writer 'mummy' takes care of? what about the bit where they collect birthday gifts for perks (bernard cribbens) and he then refuses them? and what about that bit where they save the life of a cross country runner (who surely must have been a poof). or the bit where they are watching the train go past their house one morning and everyone on board is waving newspapers at them? oh, i'm filling up just thinking about it. watch the trailer here and tell me i'm not the only 30 something who wanted to be jenny agutter when he was 12 years old.
Sunday, July 7
this afternoon i rode my bike along the river lea. it was a gorgeous afternoon, the river was high, swans were swanning about looking very graceful, grown men were flying kites and remote control airplanes, david bowie was singing tracks from 'heathen' to me. all was right with the little piece of my world for an hour or two. i was suffering from cabin fever following yesterdays festivities and needed to get out and breathe in that lovely london air. this morning i downloaded the kruder and dorfmeister sessions which i think will probably be my cd of the week. gonna watch 'amelie' tonight.
150,000 motherfucking fags in a field.
yesterday was mardi gras. me and darren spent the day with rob. we all got pissed, had a laugh, spent a fortune, walked for miles, watched some great bands (and some shit ones), ogled some 'lookers' and tut tutted at some mingers. top day out.
the day didn't start well as the local council refused to let the proceedings start at 1pm as the site was too muddy. they were worried about access for emergency vehicles (understandably). finally, at 3pm (2 hours late) we were granted entrance. our friend lucio had given up by this time and gone home as he was only going to spend a few hours at mardi gras because his 'special friend' was arriving from leeds at 5pm. at least he got a tenner back for his ticket from a tout as he left.
the site was enormous this year, much bigger than the previous years in finsbury park. it was still filled with all the usual stuff though, just more spaced out (but not as spaced out as most of the crazy fags in the dance tents). the bars were only serving three types of alcohol; a lager, a sweet vodka alcopop concoction or a glass of wine. all drinks were three quid, same price as last year (no inflation!). the fun fair was huge and had some very up-to-date spin 'n' spews and this year there was even a rollercoaster! it was a smaller version of the spinning wild mouse on brighton pier. needless to say we didn't ride any of them. i'm nearly 40 you know.
the market place had all the usual stalls selling rubber and leather stuff and, needless to say, we didn't buy anything. it was nice to see all the 'do-gooder' community groups represented (the gay and lesbian crack cocaine group caught my attention) but, needless to say, we didn't join any of them.
the best looking fellas of the day were around the XXL tent and the teddy bears picnic bar. though there were some stunnas playing volleyball and 5 a side soccer. the yeah yeah yeahs and the cooper temple clause played the popstars stage in the afternoon and were great. westlife and A1 and a host of other kiddy-pop stars played the main stage and were shite (though a huge crowd of G.A.Y. poofs thought otherwise). there was ballroom and line dancing (always good for a laugh), a blessing tent (nice to walk past and shout "they won't last six weeks!"), numerous vendors selling identikit food and lots of other 'gay' stuff that i can't remember now.
i always enjoy mardi gras and yesterday was no different. the time went so quick and before we knew it we were in the mosh pit for the finale of the day, SUEDE! they did a fantastic greatest hits show that had thousands singing along to 'trash' and 'she's in fashion'. most excellent. twas all over at 10pm (very civilised). we walked most of the way home, bought some hagen dazs ice cream and collapsed onto our sofa happy and all gayed up.
yesterday was mardi gras. me and darren spent the day with rob. we all got pissed, had a laugh, spent a fortune, walked for miles, watched some great bands (and some shit ones), ogled some 'lookers' and tut tutted at some mingers. top day out.
the day didn't start well as the local council refused to let the proceedings start at 1pm as the site was too muddy. they were worried about access for emergency vehicles (understandably). finally, at 3pm (2 hours late) we were granted entrance. our friend lucio had given up by this time and gone home as he was only going to spend a few hours at mardi gras because his 'special friend' was arriving from leeds at 5pm. at least he got a tenner back for his ticket from a tout as he left.
the site was enormous this year, much bigger than the previous years in finsbury park. it was still filled with all the usual stuff though, just more spaced out (but not as spaced out as most of the crazy fags in the dance tents). the bars were only serving three types of alcohol; a lager, a sweet vodka alcopop concoction or a glass of wine. all drinks were three quid, same price as last year (no inflation!). the fun fair was huge and had some very up-to-date spin 'n' spews and this year there was even a rollercoaster! it was a smaller version of the spinning wild mouse on brighton pier. needless to say we didn't ride any of them. i'm nearly 40 you know.
the market place had all the usual stalls selling rubber and leather stuff and, needless to say, we didn't buy anything. it was nice to see all the 'do-gooder' community groups represented (the gay and lesbian crack cocaine group caught my attention) but, needless to say, we didn't join any of them.
the best looking fellas of the day were around the XXL tent and the teddy bears picnic bar. though there were some stunnas playing volleyball and 5 a side soccer. the yeah yeah yeahs and the cooper temple clause played the popstars stage in the afternoon and were great. westlife and A1 and a host of other kiddy-pop stars played the main stage and were shite (though a huge crowd of G.A.Y. poofs thought otherwise). there was ballroom and line dancing (always good for a laugh), a blessing tent (nice to walk past and shout "they won't last six weeks!"), numerous vendors selling identikit food and lots of other 'gay' stuff that i can't remember now.
i always enjoy mardi gras and yesterday was no different. the time went so quick and before we knew it we were in the mosh pit for the finale of the day, SUEDE! they did a fantastic greatest hits show that had thousands singing along to 'trash' and 'she's in fashion'. most excellent. twas all over at 10pm (very civilised). we walked most of the way home, bought some hagen dazs ice cream and collapsed onto our sofa happy and all gayed up.
Thursday, July 4
a friend of dorothy is a friend indeed
i just had a meeting at work with a dwarf. he's quite important in the business circles of west yorkshire and was a jolly nice fellow. for years dwarves have scared me and certain scenes in the wizard of oz were always unwatchable for me. we chatted about the GDP of kazakhstan and other boring stuff and then went our separate ways. i wasn't at all scared of him and enjoyed his company. i feel very grown up now and have decided to buy some cheddar on the way home as i have been terrified of cheese since i was a nipper at school when mrs evans, the evil dinner lady, forced me to eat cheese pie which made me throw up. i should be jumping out of planes by next week.
i just had a meeting at work with a dwarf. he's quite important in the business circles of west yorkshire and was a jolly nice fellow. for years dwarves have scared me and certain scenes in the wizard of oz were always unwatchable for me. we chatted about the GDP of kazakhstan and other boring stuff and then went our separate ways. i wasn't at all scared of him and enjoyed his company. i feel very grown up now and have decided to buy some cheddar on the way home as i have been terrified of cheese since i was a nipper at school when mrs evans, the evil dinner lady, forced me to eat cheese pie which made me throw up. i should be jumping out of planes by next week.
i wish i'd written this. a classic, and my sentiments exactly. like they say in blogland USA "neohomo, you rock!"
"The morning was spent between violent laughter and violent shuddering as John and I scanned the personals at gaymuscle.org. Trite, banal, deluded, stereotypical... Words fail me as I try to describe this site. Here are the majority of gay men's ideal gay men, young and old, pecs pumping, and idiots one and all.
My favorites aren't the 'cute' gay men who look like bright-eyed elves fresh from making magic cookies in a hollow oak tree. Rather, my favorites are the 'masculine' gay men whose pictures show them looking tough, humorless, emotionless, just as they know a real man should. Some don't even have on the passé cowboy hats and Levis, those uniforms of a previous generation's masculine gays. Instead they're shown looking oily and sober, hair wet presumably from gym sweat, which is this generation's cowboy hat. All of this is supposed to make them appear masculine, but instead they look frightened, terrified that one might realize that, for all the macho pseudo-heterosexual bullshit, they are in actuality gay, fags who like having sex with men. Just like women and magic elves."
"The morning was spent between violent laughter and violent shuddering as John and I scanned the personals at gaymuscle.org. Trite, banal, deluded, stereotypical... Words fail me as I try to describe this site. Here are the majority of gay men's ideal gay men, young and old, pecs pumping, and idiots one and all.
My favorites aren't the 'cute' gay men who look like bright-eyed elves fresh from making magic cookies in a hollow oak tree. Rather, my favorites are the 'masculine' gay men whose pictures show them looking tough, humorless, emotionless, just as they know a real man should. Some don't even have on the passé cowboy hats and Levis, those uniforms of a previous generation's masculine gays. Instead they're shown looking oily and sober, hair wet presumably from gym sweat, which is this generation's cowboy hat. All of this is supposed to make them appear masculine, but instead they look frightened, terrified that one might realize that, for all the macho pseudo-heterosexual bullshit, they are in actuality gay, fags who like having sex with men. Just like women and magic elves."
Wednesday, July 3
there’s a lot of bitching going on out there in blog land (worldwide) about the various gay pride festivities taking place this summer. it seems that a lot of young men are a bit disillusioned about what the event should signify and even whether they should be ‘proud’ at all. i, for one, have never recovered from that immense feeling of deliverance (or freedom or liberation, call it what you like) upon wandering into my first gay pride festival and witnessing hundreds of thousands of people ‘like me’. for the first 20 years of my life I thought I was the only one with this ‘affliction’ so to see so many other ‘sick’ people in one place did my heart good. a lot of peoples complaints recently have been about how they are embarrassed about being perceived as a bit freaky because of all the freaky people doing freaky things on floats while marching. some people would rather the floats were filled with gay jocks in abercrombie and fitch clothes doing ‘straight’ things such as………… (insert your own example here, I can’t actually think of any). can someone tell me why we would want straight onlookers to see this and think “ why, look at that, they’re just like us”. and why would we want to be like them anyway? weird. it seems to me that our strength is in our difference. surely on this one day of the year we can celebrate this. last year at london mardi gras i peered into the ‘trade’ club marquee and was amazed to see 2000 men off their tits on animal tranquillisers dancing to ear bleeding techno music. most of them were topless, the heat was oppressive, the air smelled of poppers, the strobes were blinding and it looked fantastic (i must add that though I have been to trade twice in it’s ten year history, it really is not my cup of tea). this was a vision that would fulfil middle englands idea of what a sick bunch of individuals we all are. hurrah! so, if you are off to any pride celebrations soon have fun and if you are feeling a bit ‘gay ashamed’ at the moment then at least get out there and celebrate your shame.
Tuesday, July 2
they really are too good to ignore. and all mine! do you hear? ALL MINE!
shall i be lee 'scratch' perry or the dub professor? this little beauty is awesome. turn the bass up and pretend you are at the rainbow in 1976 to see the clash.
shall i be lee 'scratch' perry or the dub professor? this little beauty is awesome. turn the bass up and pretend you are at the rainbow in 1976 to see the clash.
Monday, July 1
bought tickets to see kiki and herb at the soho theatre in a couple of weeks. if you haven't got yours yet you really need to get your skates on.
since i got up this morning i seem to have been on auto pilot. got up, got dressed, drove my motorbike to work, sat at my desk, ate some bagels, stared at my computer, drove my motorbike home and now currently staring at another computer. i've made it through the day without actually thinking. spooky.
since i got up this morning i seem to have been on auto pilot. got up, got dressed, drove my motorbike to work, sat at my desk, ate some bagels, stared at my computer, drove my motorbike home and now currently staring at another computer. i've made it through the day without actually thinking. spooky.
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