Monday, December 28, 2009

some graffiti i saw in a brisbane toilet

come over to myspace and twitter my yahoo until i google all over your facebook

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Winkwink, nudgenudge

Now that I am a mortgagee, I have some grown up decisions like: "Do I need life insurance"? Given that I have no descendants (I always use protection so I have never been pregnant), the only reason to get it would be to pay my mortgage in the event I became too disabled to work. There is almost surely an exemption for mental illness, so I really can't see the point. I mean, even if I end up like the "Diving Bell and the Butterfly" dude and all I can physically do is wink, I am sure I can still write papers and give lectures, with the assistance of a spunky male nurse at my side who will patiently interpret my winks.

The world is a crazy place

Pilates involves putting you body in all sorts of strange positions. (Little wonder that it has transformed my sex life.) One such position yesterday resulted in sand tipping out of my pants and onto the "reformer" (a Pilates machine). The instructors laughed at me, then told me that this has never happened at their studio before - ever. Which begs the question - what sort of strange world do we live in where people don't do the absent-minded things that I do? Could it be that the set of brain cells which tell me never to divide by zero tell others to always empty their pockets of sand after going to the beach and before they do a Pilates class? The world is a crazy place.

Monday, October 26, 2009

The aggressive bottom

I'm an occasiANAL bottom (get it, boom tish!)- but almost never a top these days - it is just so boring now I have discovered the pleasure in my back end.

Had some trade in Brisbane who promised to top me after I topped him (little did I know there was just one packet of lube yet many condoms). He told me he was an "inexperienced" bottom and that I had to go very "slowly" and "carefully".

A good hour later....

I am not sure I have ever fucked a more aggressive bottom. In several positions he impaled himself on me with great vigour and resilience. At one point he was on his hands and knees, I was on my knees inside him from the rear, and I wasn't moving at all - he was slamming himself onto me at quite a speed.

I was so bored I almost fell asleep.

Grapey S commented, "you might as well have been a dildo attached to the wall with a suction pad".

It is such a shame I didn't meet him three years ago when my preference was "starfish top".

He left me with a typewritten note with his contact details, including my name. R said it would have been comic if there had been a blank space and my name scrawled in.

Spelt pasta = "P", "A", "S", "T", O" "R"

Okay could someone humour me and let me know how to spell privelidged.

S is really cool - read all about it

Just had a lovely visit to my office from S - the only local (that I know of) privelidged (fcuk spelling) enough to know about my blog. S is proof I do know some cool people in Hamilton. Go S!


Yes, I am still buying that unit.... I have to say the whole process of going from "having not bought the unit" to "having bought the unit" is a grey one indeed, with many stages - even after the settlement date has passed (prob Nov 13), the bank really owns it anyway.

Just to show M and J I'm not going completely "normal" I plan to make the guest room a contemporary interactive art space (my euphemism for "mess") - guests will be free to create works of art on the walls, floors and furnishings (of the guest room only) except those involving egg or excessive food for dust mite allergens (so that rules out a dust replica of the Eiffel tower, sorry folks).

Monday, October 12, 2009

Casual Sex in a Small Town

I have to confess the whole affair with A has really put me off casual sex in the short term. Indeed my whole attitude to sex seems to have shifted slightly. My affair with A was based almost completely on physical attraction - we both thought each other hot stuff indeed. I think part of me has always told myself that if I get a better body I would have more chance at love. But having an affair with my ideal physical type but without any emotional commitment was such a meaningless experience, apart from the in-the-moment thrill of the sex. A offered almost nothing except his body, and even then only on my request rather than his own initiative.

At some stage my sex drive will probably win over and I will return to my slutty ways (maybe once the temperature in Hamilton gets above 20 degrees; my libido has always been affected by the seasons) - for now I just want some real connections with people, whether or not sex is involved isn't so important at the moment.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

On sexual racism

I was, somewhat pompously in hindsight, trying to show off about my lack of sexual racism to a Japanese gay guy on the weekend.

"I simply don't believe there is a country on earth with no hot guys," was my profound remark.

"Actually, I find that black skin turns me off because I think it is dirty," was his reply.

He acknowledged that his view was prejudiced and not based on rational evidence.

He also said that overly hairy men were unclean in his mind.

That's comforting because I like to think of myself as dirty.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The crazy citizens of H-town

Well my pal A is upset this week because her 7-year old grand daughter pulled out of a planned week long stay at the last moment. "I was so upset I stayed in bed all day" said A. Hmmmmm she's seven hmmmm she's seven, I thought and said then thought again. I think relief would be the main emotion I would experience in the shoes of A.

Meanwhile I am in the process of making an offer on a flat - if you look in the ceiling there is a tiny speck of light. Given the average New Zealand roof, this is pretty good. I am planning to rip the carpets up because there is native timber underneath (and I am allergic to carpets) but J told me today I would freeze to death. Little does she know my ability to turn heaters on full blast without guilt or remorse.

One week of teaching to go, one week of teaching to go....

Saturday, September 26, 2009

funny things

well, I am officially BORED with H-town. I have tried to like it but given up for the time being. I just cant cope with all the gay Christians.

Nevertheless, I am making an offer to buy a flat. It was the first flat I looked at and I loved it, looked at lots of others, hated all of them, so will make an offer on this one. This doesnt mean I will be in H-town forever, but another year at least.

Had a mildly amusing convo with A on the phone today. An excerpt follows.

Me: So do you need a licence to go race car driving?
A: No, just a lot of stupidity. What are you up to today?
Me: Knitting
A: Do you need a licence to knit?

Meanwhile J said something genuinely funny on Skype: "I must be anaemic because my mum always said I lacked irony".

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

My therapy homework

Saw a counsellor (free via work) on Monday - she was my favourite kind of counsellor, one that tells you everyone else is crazy and that you are normal. In particularly (I mistyped that but kind of like it now), she told me J and Ps love of grocery shopping and their habit of filling up the shopping trolley and "culling" half of it is definitely not normal.

Anyway, she encouraged me to process the G thing and go through the process of affirming why I really wouldnt want him. Although I feel I have done this on a conscious level my subconscious I think is doing otherwise.

I thought I might as well do this on my blog.


*he is good-looking
*he laughs at most of my jokes
*he can be bouncy and bubbly and full of light
*he is good at many practical things (cars, etc) and thus useful



*he is thick as a plank
*his addiction to flirting would annoy me
*he likes home and away in a literal rather than an ironic way, which is disturbing
*he over-simplifies his own analysis of his emotional state to the point of denial
*when we are not joking things are pretty awkward between us
*he hasnt travelled much
*he likes funniest home videos
*he doesnt read books and cant spell
*he doesnt love me
*he tends to jump to conclusions about what others are thinking or feeling
*he lacks intellectual curiousity
*he has a really short attention span, whereas I can become really absorbed in something
*he says "im not a slut" all the time
*he is a complete slut
*he likes horseriding and mountain biking, which I cant see myself doing very often
*he likes late nights and partying and drinking - i dont drink and like most of my nights early
*he doesnt mellow out in the same way i do
*he is a strong S on Myer Briggs
*he uses aclohol to socialise
*he hasnt been as honest with his feelings as me
*he doesnt make me laugh as much as i make him laugh
*he doesnt take full responsibility for his behaviour while drinking

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Sleep Deprivation

Didn't sleep well tonight - whether this was due to cold toes or other causes is unclear... however I still managed to do my tax return this morning. I think the sleep deprivation may be inducing a numb state which is ideal for the filling in of a tax return form. Every cloud has a silver lining.

return of the chart nerd

On a whim, here are my favourite top 5 pop singles at the moment

1 Bulletproof LA ROUX
2 Heavy Cross GOSSIP
3 She-Wolf SHAKIRA
5 Celebration MADONNA

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Corny drag idea #563

I want to dress up as Wonder Woman and mime "Bulletproof" by La Roux. Get it.... bulletproof....

i did well... handling my entire sex and romantic life (G and A) for 2009 in one room last night.

Actually A is not so hard to handle. (Well, the thought of handling him makes me hard.... oooh errr....).

"Dont do anyone I wouldnt do" he said to me as I left.

"Well, Ill do myself then" was my parting shot.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Recently dull Hamilton made headlines when the Springboks declared it "too boring" for them to stay and train in. If only the Springboks new of events like the University of Waikato staff review (see pasted blurb below). Surely they will visit Hamilton for that one.

Staff Revue 09
Robyn Hood: Deans in Tightspots
Friday 30th October – WEL Energy Trust Academy of Performing Arts – 8.00pm

Yes, it’s that time of year again. Another extravaganza by staff for staff. This year we
feature Professor Robyn Hood, renowned biochemist and philanthropist.

As usual it will be a high energy show with audience participation, featuring a cast of
thousands (well, about a dozen – including Mooloo).

Tickets will go on sale on Monday 28 September from Ticket Direct ($19 or $17 for
groups of 8 or more). Booking and service fees will also apply.

We are looking for performers for the show (either acting in the Robyn Hood
segment, or showcasing your hidden talents) and people to help out behind the
scenes. Please contact me if you are interested. It is always heaps of fun and
an opportunity to learn valuable new skills.

I'm not a slut, I just "live in the moment"

As you might guess from a sudden spate of blog entries after nothing for a month, I am no longer getting regular sex.

The car mechanic (and race car driver) A was (is, he is still alive) one hunk of spunk and on our last meeting he figuratively fucked my brains out. It was a moment in which I felt as though I finally graduated from bottom school. I wish to write more about anal sex later (I know you can't wait) but this blog post is devoted to my feelings (I know you've stopped reading now).

Our few hook-ups were mainly instigated by me and were never much more than hook-ups, although there were a few conversations. A treated me in general with honesty and respect but I just can't do sex without feelings on a repeated basis with the same person, no matter how hot they are.

Before having my brains fucked out (hey, it was "one for the road") I asked A if he thought this was anything more than sex and he said no. Since then (this was three weeks ago) there has been no texts from either of us. I am somewhat relieved as it is not easy for me to say no to a hot guy even though I know that's what is best for me. I never had a crush on A and didn't think much of the prospect of us dating seriously due to our very different interests and backgrounds!

With this fling over I am not filled with great regret, although I really will think carefully before next engaging in casual sex with someone from Hamilton - it is such a small community. I don't want to have a long list of people in town that I'd rather avoid!

I am left contemplating how I tend to use sex to avoid and escape (as a "substitute for love" I suppose) and whether this is always a great thing for me to do. In this instance the fling was useful in the short term in escaping/avoiding my crush on G but in the long term it provided me with little, except maybe for some confidence and the self-awareness that I want more to life than just sex with a hot guy! (As fantastic as that can be in the moment!) With it finished I find there are still some residual feelings for G, though not as intense as they once were.

Do we really ever "get over" or "move on" from someone - not really, I think, rather we distract ourselves and the feelings and memories gradually fade.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Contemporary Art

Currently Waikato museum is hosting an exhibition of the finalists of the Trust Waikato National Contemporary Art Award 2009. The winning piece was literally a pile of rubbish - the artist left instructions to collect the rubbish from all the other entrants and make it into a pile.

While I didn't think that piece really deserved to win the prize, the negative media response to the winning entry raises interesting questions about art. (I am convinced this response is part of the aim of the artist.)

Many of the arguments against the work reflect a rigid and narrow-minded definition of what art is. "Anyone could do that" - in other words art must involve a specialized skill or craft; otherwise it is not art. "The artist didn't even do the work" - in other words the amount of time and effort invested in a work of art increases its value.

I think it is unfair to say that the winning work wasn't art - it is the nature of art to cross and challenge boundaries, including the definition of art itself. This is why such things as a blank canvas with nothing on it is in a way an inevitable part of art history.

Whether the winning entry was good or not is a different question. Art is so subjective that even having a prize for the best work is somewhat questionable. Certainly originality should be some kind of criterion - and the idea of using the rubbish from all the other artists was certainly original, and moreover quite bitchy. As described above, the winning work also challenges the "work ethic" of our culture.

However I think the winner may have been chosen in order to induce a knee-jerk reaction and thus publicity. In this sense the pro and anti- contemporary art movements take part in a predictable battle. Some of the other entries challenged me in a less predictable and more complex way. I would have preferred to see one of them win a prize.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

posttraumatic guest disorder

Just had some guests J and P stay for a week. Although they were fun and are good friends I didnt cope with having guests in my house particularly well.

"I know what you mean... all the looking after, cooking n planning" C texted in consolation.

I actually did none of the above (well, just a little looking after) but still managed to feel drained.

Today all I did was play scrabble with myself which was somewhat nerve-wracking as I am an intimidating player.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Nursing my broken gaydar

There's a new guy S at work; I first encountered him earlier in the year when I went to his presentation for his job interview. "Definitely gay" was my conclusion. "Definitely gay" was still my conclusion when he started work here a month ago. He is quite friendly so I have been trying to make him welcome, at the same time very curious to find out his sexual identity. (Gawd it sounds so sinister when I write it like that).

I went to lunch with him and his identical twin from Auckland. The twin seemed kind of straight I thought. When S and I were in the queue alone for coffee and cake I finally decided to pop the question:

Me: "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

S: "No, go ahead."

Me: "Are you gay?"

S: "No, I am straight actually. But people have asked me if I am gay before."

Me: "Oh... I just thought if you were gay I could introduce you to some of the local gays. Not that I don't plan to introduce you to people anyway. Um.... Anyway, you should take it as a compliment!"

S: "I do, I do!"

I am particuarly proud of the "Take it is a compliment!" line - attack is the best form of defence, don't you think.

Thinking about the scenario later, I think that S could well be a straight version of me - we seem to have very similar personalities (S even picked up a mild pretentious Irish lilt in his accent after being there a year) and interests, which is probably what made me think he was gay.

If this is true, I have to say that a straight version of me is still pretty damn gay.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

More strange Shakira lyrics

Shakira has a new song with weirder lyrics than ever (see below). It makes me wonder if "lycanthropy" (definition: the delusion that one has become a wolf) translates to a common Spanish word? The couplet: "Nocturnal creatures are not so prudent; The moon's my teacher and I'm her student" is inspired. Incidentally I absolutely love the song.

SOS shes in disguise
SOS shes in disguise
There's a she wolf in disguise
Coming out coming out coming out

A domesticated girl thats all you ask of me
Darling it is no joke this is lycanthropy
The moon's awake now with eyes wide open
My body's craving so feed the hungry

Ive been devoting myself to you Monday to Monday and Friday to Friday
Not getting enough retribution or decent incentives to keep me at it
Im starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in an office
So Im gonna go to my closet and get me a lover and tell you all about it

Theres a she wolf in the closet
Open up and set it free
Theres a she wolf in the closet
Let it out so it can breathe

Sitting across a bar staring right at her prey
Its going well so far shes gonna get her way
Nocturnal creatures are not so prudent
The moon's my teacher and Im her student

To locate the single men I got on me a special radar
And the fire department hotline in case I get in trouble later
Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys I just want to enjoy
By having a very good time and behave very bad in the arms of a boy

Theres a she wolf in the closet
Open up and set it free
Theres a she wolf in the closet
Let it out so it can breathe

Intelligent conversation

A couple of quotes.

Paris Hilton: "I have so many friends I don't even know some of their names."

Recent dinner party.

K: "India is very strong in statistics."
Me: "Well it's no surprise - their population is so large they can always assume everything is normally distributed."

Sunday, August 2, 2009


Went to G´s birthday last night. I hadn´t seem him in two months, the last month of which has been a rather blissful avoidance. Avoidance seems to me an underrated behavioural coping mechanism in certain circumstances. Contemporary psycho-babble encourages us to "confront", "talk through" and "deal with" things - but the best way for me to cope with a broken heart or its relatives seems to be to go cold trukey and not see the person at all for a while. Only after then can I begin to think of them in a different way.

Seeing people in a slightly different way seems to be a recurring theme for me this year - more about that later.

G now has a boyfriend W, who I was relieved to find was (a) nothing like me in terms of personality, (b) kind of boring and (c) not my type. All petty and biased opinions I know, but I´ll happily take any private consolations I can that don´t harm anyone else.

My revenge - not that I think it bothered anyone, least of all G - was to make out with one of G´s friends at the party. It was one of those rare moments when I had more than one guy to choose from for my revengeful dalliance - when it doesnt rain it pours I guess.

This guy A is a hunky car mechanic (at least hunky in my eyes). Someone told me recently "Youll never meet anyone if you never drink". However what this person doesnt realise is that being sober doesnt mean you cant hang around drunk people and take advantage of their lack of inhibitions.

There were a couple of moments of great irony. Firstly, when A arrived, I thought he looked so much like G in the face that they were related. Secondly, G himself helped the whole thing along by insisting that we "get a room" and dragging us there.

The whole thing got a bit trashy and shameless. The room in question had no lock and the friends of A kept busting in and teasing us. They even went outside and tried to get in through the window and there was a flash when someone took a photo from outside though at that stage I think I was hiding under the sheets like Yoko Ono.

Well, if last night was anything to go by, shameless people have more fun. I am so glad I am one of them.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

They teased me first, I swear.

I said to someone today:

"It was nice to see you, except for the bits that weren't nice. Actually, that was most of it, come to think of it."

Sunday, July 26, 2009

I always love a compliment

Got an amusing anonymous appraisal from a student:

"List up to three aspects of teaching that this teacher should maintain":

Low cut tops

"List up to three aspects of teaching that this teacher should change:"

Needs to show more cleavage.

I will have to get a seventies-style glow-weave shirt, half buttoned up, with some bling for my lectures.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Rita Angus

There is an exhibition of Rita Angus at the Auckland art gallery at the moment. I am fascinated by some of her paintings, see below.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Socializing in Hamilton

I have a new friend - it's a virus living in the back of my throat. (Okay, so it could be a bacteria, but I don't feel we are closely enough acquainted yet for me to ask that question appropriately.) It has decided it is having a fun time back there so it wants to hang around for a while. It entertains me by sending mucus down my throat into my lungs to cough back up again. We have been inseparable for a over a week now, which is great but I am engaging in classic passive-aggressive behaviour such as gargling mouthwash, which may put a strain on the relationship. I feel though that while some of my actions are destructive I am too set in my ways to change. Que sera sera, I say, if I lose this virus, I am sure there are others in Hamilton I can catch before the winter is out.

Sunday, July 19, 2009


I saw "Bruno" on Friday night. I must say I wasn't offended by it at all and had a good hearty laugh. Bruno is ridiculously uber-gay, and is in many senses a homophobe's worst nightmare. By confronting homophobes with this character, the film is much more a parody of homophobia than of homosexuality. (In a similar sense drag as done by the gay community is not typically a parody of women but something more complex.)

I did feel slightly uncomfortable after the film ended though - the straight men in the audience looked particularly shell-shocked and horrified. I felt that during the film women in the audience laughed more loudly than men did. How beautifully ironic that Bruno is drawing in so many straight people who would never otherwise see any kind of gay film.

Well then

A friend read my previous post and said it reminded him of Judy Dench's character from "Notes on a Scandal". I am somewhat heartened by this as I am hoping Judy Dench will play me in the biopic based on my life story. She will be 130 but look very sprightly for her age.

Nonetheless writing that post seems to have been therapeutic for me. The questions posed are rhetorical, or at the very least ones that only I can answer.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

On gay love

Gay love, by its very definition of sameness, and from the bi-modal gendered society we live in, often manifests itself in different ways to straight love. Straight love is often constructed around ideas of difference which reflect the stereotypes and differences of male and female. For the gay person, a lover might not only be an object of desire but a competitor, a role model, a reflection of ourselves or a validation. Such aspects may play a role in straight relationships, but only in gay love are the acts of wanting someone and wanting to be someone so cryptically intertwined. Sometimes the two desires are difficult or impossible to separate.

A strange twist on this happened to me in high school. I had a desperate crush on a friend M. I don't think I ever wanted to be M; however I was extremely jealous of his sister. I didn't know her well because she was in a higher grade. However whenever her name was mentioned I felt this huge flush of jealousy - I wanted to be M's sister. It's all very weird and even now I can't explain it fully. She was particularly smart and also a dancer, and at the time I wanted to be a girl because I believed it would be impossible to express my true self fully as male (at uni I learnt otherwise). This goes some way to explaining my jealousy; however some aspect of it was related to her being my crush's sister - that bit I can't explain.

Crushes I have had since then have reflected all sorts of things - but I have often loved people who have aspects that I don't and I am jealous of. My boyfriend R in London was strong-willed and spontaneous - if he wanted something he just went for it, without a second thought. The consequences were sometimes exciting or entertaining. Although I did learn a lot from him, ultimately the behaviour was destructive for me.

Recent crushes have been on people who laugh at my jokes - there seems to be no greater aphrodisiac for me (although I don't fall for everyone who laughs at my jokes). I suppose this is a natural part of being an extrovert. However I feel like I have these "buttons" in me that can be pushed, which can easily make me completely infatuated with someone who isn't suited to me as a partner in other aspects. My heart can take over my head in a really inconvenient way.

What part of me needs validation to the point that it becomes unhealthy for me, and why? How do I separate my natural extrovertedness and joy at being a clown with a dependency for attention that can cloud my judgment? Why am I so attracted to impulsive, spontaneous and unpredictable people yet frustrated by the same character traits in a practical way?

I know what turns me on and pushes my buttons, but what I truly want in love and a relationship is less clear.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

On me

I think I might be slightly depressed, though hey it could be my hypochondria playing up again.

Though I have some empirical evidence to back me up this time - a handy thing called "The Beck Depression Inventory". This is basically a multiple choice quiz that gives you a magic number, which allows you to diagnose yourself from "These ups and downs are considered normal" all the way to "Extreme depression"; although I think if you are in the final category you probably wouldnt have enough motivation to do the quiz in the first place, yet alone get out of bed in the morning and bruch your teeth.

Anyway a sample question is:
0: I enjoy reading books at the moment
1: The only book I read lately is "Less than Zero" by Brett Easton Ellis
2: I would read a book but I am crying so much the pages get soggy
3: I have put all my books on a dodgy self-assemble bookshelf next to my bed in the hope it will collapse and kill me during my sleep

As you might gather, the more points you get, the more depressed you are.

Oooh how comforting empiricism is.

Luckily I havent been in any of the severe categories since about 10 years ago when I lived in London, although occasionally I slip down into the "Mild mood disturbance" category.

As the title suggests, "Mild mood disturbance" is a state of being in a disturbingly mild mood. I hope it doesnt last long and my familiar dramatic mood swings return.

Monday, July 13, 2009

The curse continues.....

Well I found last week I am an expectant uncle - my brother´s wife is pregnant. My initial joy gave way to anxiety and angst however - I mean I just dont think I am emotionally mature enough to be an uncle. In fact I am really quite annoyed, they should have consulted with me first before they FUCKED without a condom!!! Not to worry, I plan to (tactfully) suggest she get rid of it. I mean, they can always try again next year. Who knows - I may have grown up by then.

Saturday, July 11, 2009


Watching Home and Away, I am a bit concerned about the intellectual capacity, or at least common sense, of some of the characters. A shocking relevation, I know. But when Roman got talked into committing an armed robbery so easily I began to suspect there is a reasoning deficiency in Summer Bay. When I told my gentle but sharply wise-cracking lesbian cousin J about how the characters on Home and Awy so often have mental health issues, she said "Hmm maybe its a cluster".

Its me again yes how did you guess

Returned last night from an overseas sojourn. Croatia was all very Croat, England was so English and Scotland was, yeah, like, totally Scottish. Thats my very poetic summary of my trip.

In more important news, I finally got that "10 types of people who understand binary" joke. I originally thought they were making fun of people who can only understand base 10 arithmetic. I didnt get the subtle twist that 10 is actually the number 2 written in binary until just the other week.

One day I also hope to understand what happened in Star Trek V.

Meanwhile I saw a doctor in Scotland who deftly diagnosed some hypochondria. It turns out I sometimes convince myself that my asthma is worse than it actually is by a breathing affectation involving my throat. While I am proud of any affectation I have and even somewhat proud of my hypochondria - hey its a very democratic disease, what i like about hypochondria is that anyone can be a hypochondriac, just use your imagination!

I wonder, though, now that I know I am a hypochondriac, does that disqualify me from hypchondria? Because doesnt hypochondria by definition involve some kind of denial?

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Travel list - your help is needed

When travelling, I invariably forget to pack something important. Last time it was my glasses! This time (I am off to Scotland, London and Croatia next week) I have decided to be uncharacteristically organized and make a packing list. If you think I have forgotten anything, please comment!!

Things for cabin luggage:

passport (in jeans pocket in waterproof bag).
Copies of all travel tickets, accommodation details, travel insurance, photocopy of passport in waterproof pouch
All medication
Glasses with glass case
Glasses cleaner
Small hand towel
USB stick with conference talk
Mobile phone including Kat's number
Empty water bottle

(Buy small nasal spray, small toothpaste and small deodorant at airport)

Things for main luggage:

Contact Lenses
Razor and spare razor blades
Shaving cream
Misc. toiletries
AJC promotion material for conference
Printed out copy of talk and paper
Nasal spray
Shampoo and conditioner
Mobile phone recharger
Coversion plug (can buy in UK if I cant find it).

Togs and goggles
Waterproof jacket
Shorts (maybe buy new shorts in UK)
Clothes (socks, underwear, tshirts)
Plastic bags
1 Small satchel of laundry powder

To do before I go:

Photocopy passport and travel documents and leave with friend.
Attach talk pdf to yahoo email.
Book airport shuttle to auckland

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Review of The Fame

I am really into Lady Ga Ga at the moment. It's been a while since I have been so excited by a pop star. (Okay, so there was that obsession with Britney a few months ago; I am always into one diva or another.) But I really think it has been a while since someone as exciting and provoking as Ga Ga has been on the charts.

What strikes me most about Ga Ga is her self-identity as an artist and the extremes to which she is prepared to push this identity. There's nothing more that irks me than celebrities who try too hard to be "down-to-earth" in interviews. Not so Ga Ga - on Rove she appeared with a one-foot cone of fake hair on her head, and answered his questions in a highly abstract and somewhat detached manner. Rove was actually watchable for a change.

Indeed, Ga Ga's whole life is a performance. She travels around in a bus called "Haus of Ga Ga" with a small army of creatives. Every interview contains an extreme or unexpected opinion. Is she joking or is she for real when she says "I would die without fame"? As with all the best camp irony, the answer is unclear.

One the surface "The Fame" seems lyrically out of date. It seems all so very Paris Hilton who is so a couple of years ago now. However I think there is a very sophisticated irony at play - as complex perhaps as Andy Warhol's exploration of fame. Indeed Ga Ga openly models herself on Warhol, with her self-penned nickname "Candy Warhol". The film clip for "Paparazzi" is possibly her most amazing yet - it manages to be provoking - how long has it been since a video clip was provoking?
Madonna 20 years ago?

Ga Ga has a voice that is similar sometimes to Christina Aguilera - but she can use it a more clever way. The contrast in Poker Face between a robotic rap and Aguilera-style warbling helps make it one of the most original pop-anthems in recent years. Ga Ga has a high-fashion edginess that makes Gwen Stefani look staid and conservative. Her lyrics have the catchiness of some of Madonna's best, but are wittier and slicker than anything Madonna was written in years. One of the most impressive efforts of The Fame is that Ga Ga has managed to do something Madonna has failed to do for quite a while - sell dance music to the U.S. public.

Like Madonna, Ga Ga creates as much noise off her albums as on them. Like Madonna, the music is what is best about Lady Ga Ga.

Monday, June 8, 2009

On intellect

Had a much needed talk with G on the weekend. The most important sentences we exchanged were:

Me: "I can't really imagine us as a couple. Can you?"
G: "No, not really."

We discussed reasons why, and one that G gave was that he felt intimidated by my intellect.

Sigh - it can indeed be lonely sometimes at my end of the bell curve.

I like to think though that intellect is as much an attitude as a question of brute mental capabilities. Intellect is a certain curiosity about the world, a pondering of why rather than just what, an ability to ask a question when you don't know something rather than being afraid of your own ignorance.

Perhaps intellect is a personality type as well - I think so, and I think that's mostly why it would probably never work with G.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Wonder Woman

I have to say of all the fictional role models I had growing up, wonder woman would have to be the most influential. She taught me to run like a girl, to respond to criticism with a sweet smile, that I could be strong without sacrificing my femininity, and that my day job wearing glasses could be a convenient disguise for my super powers.

The theme tune lyrics are below.

Wonder Woman by Norman Gimbel and Charles Fox - Wonder Woman Lyrics

Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman.
All the world's waiting for you,
and the power you possess.

In your satin tights,
Fighting for your rights
And the old Red, White and Blue.

Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman.
Now the world is ready for you,
and the wonders you can do.

Make a hawk a dove,
Stop a war with love,
Make a liar tell the truth.

Wonder Woman,
Get us out from under, Wonder Woman.
All our hopes are pinned on you.
And the magic that you do.

Stop a bullet cold,
Make the Axis fall,
Change their minds, and change the world.

Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman.
You're a wonder, Wonder Woman.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

I gotta new friend

to quote Degrassi Junior High.

My new friend A is about 60, had a stroke a few years ago and still gets regular Brazilian waxes.
A is kind of what I imagine Busty to be like 30 years from now.

It is superfluous to add that she is very entertaining.

We met at my Scrabble club and she delights in saying inappropriate things, at which I am the only person who usually laughs, which makes me laugh even more.

I was telling everyone at Scrabble about a dream I had in which a cat came onto my bed and tried to strangle me.

"Well, I sleep with three pussies every night," A replied.

A's flatmate is a pothead drifter D who she bosses about no end.

A and I rented an apartment together down in Chch (that is gay for Christchurch) last weekend for the scrabble nationals, at which I mistakenly thought "bea", "ows", "zeff" and "gnomed" were all legitimate words.

I have started to join A and D and S (who is amongst many things a tranny) at weekly quiz nights at Club Cossie, which is like an RSL in Australia. Like most things in Hamilton, the quiz night is kind of a pissweak version of a what you would get in a city. (Other examples include pissweak Karaoke - yep if you thought all Karaoke was pissweak, wait til you see Hamilton karaoke, pissweak restaurants, a pissweak gaybar and some occasional very pissweak orchestras playing the StarWars theme.) There is only one round, and the quiz is printed out a bit of paper which you hand in, while seniors harrang you to buy raffle tickets for a meat tray.

With a few more pals like A, though, I may eventually become quite attached to the pissweakedness of Hamiltron.

Let's have some fun this beat is sick

I think I will be quoting Lady Ga Ga lyrics for some time on my blog.

I was espousing her to J in Sydney on Skype last night when he said with not altogether mock acridity:

"Yeah, I get it, I get it. She's your diva at the moment."

J then quoted some incoherent whispered Mariah lyrics back at me.

The tension that arises from our different choices of diva is the basis of my friendship with J.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Leave Susan Boyle the fuck alone!!!!!!

Hmm I am noticing more exclamation marks in my posts and less apostrophes.

I saw this really fucked quiz show on cable from the UK called "Eggheads". There is basically a team of eggheads who get challenged in quizzes each week by another team who is extremely unlikely to ever beat them, such as a womens rugby team.

The eggheads openly smirk and chortle at the incorrect answers of their opposition.

Yer up ya selves, eggheads!!!!

groove slam work it back

I am once again reminded why I am single - dating makes me psycho!!!!

(Cue the screeching violins.)

Not that I am dating anyone, but just the thought sends me on the edge of a deep ravine with padded walls.

In a brief moment of sanity, I realized when I said to myself, "I feel like I am going crazy" I was engaging in emotive reasoning.

God bless that cognitive behavioural therapy I had ten years ago.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Its official - I have integrity!!

I am excited to announce that I have integrity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At least, that was what a counsellor told me today.

The context was me discussing the whole G disaster, which has deprived me of some sleep in the last week or two.

And yes, recounting the whole story to an autonomous stranger, I have to agree to with their evaluation - I did indeed act with integrity through the whole situation.

No matter what they take from me, they cant take away my integrity....

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Skeptic or krank? The climate change denial phenomenon.

My Dad is a "Climate change skeptic". I was shocked by this (although he did vote for John Howard on occasion) but he is not the only person to shock me with such an opinion.

To me, not believing in human-caused climate change is a bit like denying the theory of relativity or claiming the earth is 6000 years old - it is just not science. The word "skeptic" (as opposed to "denier" which we know from phrases like "Holocaust denier") creates a false impression of intellectualism. If you dont believe in human-induced global warming then you are, frankly, a crank.

One has to ask: why do people, sometimes quite educated people, turn their back on science with this particular issue?

I have some theories on this.

My Dad is an optimist. "Things always balance out" is one of his catchphrases, which is very soothing and mostly true if you are white male and middleclass. I have to admit, if we look at the history of humanity, people who claimed the end was nigh tended to be nutbags. In a way, those were the nutbags who cried wolf and have now ruined it for the proper scientists who are now correct in saying the end or at least major catastrophe is nigh.

Shame and you, nutbags!

I think at the end of the day accepting that global warming is happening is just too confronting for many people - too inconveient a truth, to quote Al Gore. A much more comforting option is to hope it is a conspiracy of some highly organized global group of scientists. Anyone who knows a scientist, though, also knows that the phrases "highly organised" and "scientist" dont belong in the same sentence.

Scientific knowledge is created and checked and attacked and defended by a process of anonymous peer review. This fact convinces me more than any argument or graph watered down for the layperson. It takes just a quick google search on skeptics such as Bob Carter to find out that none of their theories have been published in scientific journals. Hmmmm, why?

The media, on the other hand, works on infotainment, i.e. feeding the readers the panacea of climate change conspiracy, without bothering to do simple checks for scientific validity of its sources.

My father is an intelligent man who is lapping up this panacea; unfortunately he is not alone.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

The art of the insult

I like a good insult as much as the next bitch. The following was from "Flava of Love" (I just saw the ad, okay):

"You look like a klingon because you have a big-ass head and you´re ugly".

Monday, May 18, 2009

I had a dream it was clouds in my coffee...

Saw G kiss someone last night and the image that came to my mind the next day was a cold stone sitting on a bed of wet charcoal.

I think the metaphorical significance of my imagination is fairly clear in this instance.

I almost did not turn up to a Eurovision party but Stefan talked me into it. He made the poignant argument that Eurovision happens but once a year. Lets face it, it is Eurovision so it was never going to be that hard to convince me. But he was very sweet to do so.

My foolish heart has got me into trouble again, but I have to say I am proud of how I am letting my feelings go with the flow. I seem to have a little weep now and again and a good dash of "well if he liked it then he should have put a ring on it" solidarity with my German pals (most of my friends here are German, this is not such a surprise as I am a foreigner too), but in general I am okay.

The group sex I had on Sunday certainly helped a little. I was expecting a couple, it turned out to be a threesome. I.e. they were three, they actually cohabit as a triple and I was number four.

They were a little older (the upper age limit of what I will shag seems to creeping at a rapider rate than my own age) and each by themselves werent exactly fuckable but strangely enough components of each of them added up to what might be the perfect man. Exactly one of the three had a nice face, exactly one of the three was a good kisser, exactly one of the three had a nice cock - you get the picture.

It is an interesting strategy - if I try it in the future I should find someone who looks good in a hat and someone else who is good at head because god knows I am crap at it.

Eurovision 2009

The fragmented alliance of nation-states that calls itself Europe united once again in tacky splendour at Moscow for Eurovision 2009. I wont go too much into the controversies, although this year there oodles, from the homophobic Moscovian mayor to subtle protests by the presenters of certain countries. Instead I will focus on the entertainment.

The most apparent trend in this years contest is that Western Europe is actually trying hard to win Eurovision, for the first time in about a decade. Eastern Europe has been winning it for most of this decade, but only this year has Western Europe finally shaken off its deep sense of being above it all and actually made an effort, elthough quite a try-hard one in many cases.

The UK somehow managed to get Andrew Lloyd Webber on stage to really emphasize the point that their mediocre ballad was written by Andrew Lloyd Webber. It got them a respectable top 10 place, mostly I think because there are many fans of Andrew Lloyd Webber across Europe.

Germanys effort was even more desperate with a meaningless cameo by Dita von Tease. I wonder how much they paid her for that 30 seconds, and whether she wasnt on stage any longer because her corset is too painful. Unfortunately for them the effort did not pay when the votes came in and it was Deutschland under alles.

France tried hard too, rolling out an established star in the form of Patricia Kaas and her husky Piafesque voice. As Julia Zemiro commented for the Age, this would have worked quite well 30 years ago. Indeed, although Western Europe is finally trying, they dont seem to realize that Eurovision has changed in the last 20 years.

Most recent winners realize you need to try something different to win, not to be afraid to experiment, often combining the old with the new. Acts which completely take the piss never win - there are too many serious fans out there. And there are so many countries now you need to stick out somehow, not just with costumes but the style of music as well.

The efforts to stick out ranged from ridiculous to bizarre, but I have to say it was musically eclectic. Sweden had a go at pop opera, Russia tried a dark and brooding ballad with a film showing the singer artificially ageing in the background. Germany had a man with blindingly shiny pants, Albania had what looked like a dancing toothpaste and Iceland had the perennial toilet roll doily dress that turns up every year for some country.

My favourite was Armenia, their velvet blue gypsy costumes were truly spectacular and I thought they did something special. The winning act from Norway was classic Eurovision - very catchy on the first listen but annoying thereafter.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Îgnorant Aussie Quiz

How much do you know about your little neighbour New Zealand ? Did you know any more than I did when I moved here? If you get any of the following correct you know more than I did. I will post the answers in a week.

1. What is the New Zealand National Anthem (hint - it is not Slice of Heaven nor is it the haka).
2. What is the name of the band that sung “Slice of Heaven”?
3. For an extra point, what was the name of the lead singer of “Slice of Heaven” (you know, the one with the blond mullet)?
4. Musician Bic Runga has had chart success in Australia . What is the name of her sister, the lead singer of the group Stellar?
5. Is Nelson on the South or North Island ?
6. Is Gisborne on the South or North Island ?
7. True or False: Auckland is named after the extinct NZ native Auk bird.
8. True or False: There are native NZ lizards.
9. True or False: There are no ticks in the New Zealand wild.
10. True or False: A Maori tribe invaded the Chatham Islands during the Nineteenth century.
11. True or False: NZ invaded Samoa during the Twentieth Century.
12. How many distinct languages did the Maori speak before colonization?
13. John Key is the current prime minister of NZ – what is the name of his political party?
14. How does NZ produce most of its electric power?
15. What is a bach (pronounced batch)?
16. Name the one NZ bank not owned by an Australian bank.
17. What is the name given to the government economic philosophy in the eighties, during which all NZ banks were bought by Australia almost overnight?
18. What do the letters in the acronym J.A.F.A. stand for?
19. Do native NZ trees lose their leaves during Winter?
20. The national rugby team is known as the “all blacks”. What is the nickname of the national womens netball team?

I dream of G. eee.

In my dream Gs blond hair glowed with light.

Thats all I remember.

Saturday, May 9, 2009


... I encountered some fake and pretentious people in New Zealand. They were working at the Body Shop. It was a great relief as I was getting worn down by all the sincerity and genuineness.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Life Swap

You are emotionally constipated. Think of me as a laxative.

- a female shock jock who swaps lives with a Texan pet sematarian on "Life Swap".

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Some song lyrics

But lately I´ve been feeling strong
And you´ve been falling behind

from "I´m on your side", Steinberg and Kelly, covered by, amongst others, the Divinyls.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Flat Earth Society

Okay it is rare for me to post pictures on mz blog - I am too lazy - but I think I have to make an exception for the NZ Flat Earth Society. Read below.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

I heart Lady Ga Ga

I heart Lady Ga Ga, for bringing a much-needed Warholian touch back into pop music. With her fashionista style, kooky lyrics, catchy hooks and crooked nose, what's not to love? Her clip to Poker Face is especially impressive - any good diva knows how to make an entrance, and Lady Ga Ga rising out of the water in some futuristic black outfit with eyepatch betwixt a pair of dalmations is certainly an entrance.

Beyonce is certainly trying to be a diva too (she even has a song called diva) and is often succeeding. The clip for Put a Ring On It revives the classic white background video clip format from the eighties, which perfectly suits the iconic choreography.

And who else but Britney can complete this trio of contemporary divadom. The tiny amount of self-journey in her lyrics is mostly manufactured, indeed with her father making her grits each morning there is something very automated about her artistic process. Not all of the musical criticism is fair and indeed some of it is sexist - at the end of the day Britney has a star quality. And all the personal drama in Britney's life is turning her into a contemporary Judy Garland. Circus and If You Seek Amy are both instant camp classics.

A bad joke

I preface this joke by saying I made it up myself.

Q: What sound do German turkeys make?
A: Goebbels, Goebbels, Goebbels.

What is funnier than the actual joke is the fact that I told someone who found it hysterically funny, although it was later revealed he had never heard of Goebbels.

Some suggestions to avoid swine flu

1. At all times, keep seven degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon and his swine-like upturned nose.
2. Avoid overeating (pigouts), high-maintenance fashion divas (in particular, miss piggy) and oinking.
3. Avoid the police.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Was God´s finger a laser beam?

This was something mentioned to me in a letter from Royce and Annette Allen, PO Box 5498, Frankton, Hamilton, 3242, New Zealand.

"The letters were definitely burned into rock", says Professor Ludwig Sales from Berlin University. "I´m not ready to say it was a laser beam, but some sort of cutting ray was used - something far beyond the skills of the ancient Hebrews."

The letter also included "A true photo of the lord jesus christ" - standing on the wing of a plane, no less. The phot was taken by a lady "who was a born again Christian".

the bubble burst

ooh maybe it was just a soap sud after all

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Hamilton: the musical!

I am working on my third unfinished musical. This one is imaginatively titled "Hamilton! The musical." In the opening scene a tumbleweed rolls across the town centre, devoid of people. The plot, entirely fictional, is about a cosmopolitan gay who finds himself stranded in a new zealand country town.

I have already penned the first song, entiled "There´s nothing to do in a small town". (It owes a little to mellencamp.)

I baked a cake,
I live in a small town.
I played "Risk",
I live in a small town.
I hung out with friends,
I live in a small town.
I put air in my tyres,
I live in a small town.
There´s nothing to do in a small town.

(More verses to follow as something actually happens to me in Hamilton.)

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Macabre Hamilton

I was at my local scrabble club, when the dictionary was consulted. You might think this is a commonplace enough event in a scrabble club, but think again - the scrabble scene involves learning many rare English words but only few of their meanings. At the end of the day, who cares what ekpwele means when it can score you a fuckload of points on the board. A wordlist, containg every word and all its possible derivatives, suffices to check validity of play.

Anyway, as I recall someone wanted to know whether a zek is an animal (it is not). The dictionary was revealed to be the property of a former member of the scrabble club.

"He was murdered," someone told me. "And we all know who did it, though there wasn´t enough evidence to convict him."

Sunday, April 19, 2009


I visited my 96-year old Grandma this weekend. She is sprightly for her age; her abilities including fetching me apples, picking up things from the floor and catching enough key words to maintain a conversation. I am hoping to become this able by the time I am 96.

She showed me a photo of her parents: her mother was Irish and her father German (both Catholic) - it is through her that I get my 1/16 German blood, which explains why I am on time 1 out of every 16 occasions.

I'd like to hear more about her parents and the past - instead Grandma has given me, as long as I have known her, endless verbal diarrhoea which is mainly contemporary gossip about people I have never met.

Bless her.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009


I was thinking last night, whilst in a sex-on-premises venue, how having sex with a stranger is a bit like watching a stranger make a sandwich at a make-your-own-sandwich-on-premises venue. In that no two people make a sandwich that is exactly the same.

There was the guy who didn't want to kiss but instead made repeated tiny but innocuous bites. Or the guy who, when I asked if he wanted to kiss, said to me "How's this for a kiss" before giving me a kiss that was full of energy but no passion. Or the guy who wanted to kiss and kissed rather well but tasted too strongly of an ashtray. (I don't mind a bit of smoked tongue, but not too freshly smoked.)

I felt this strange inclination last night to flee, flee, flee from the sex-on-premises venue. I persisted, however, for my own good. Until I find my husband (I am now emotionally ready to exchange random anonymous sex for security, bickering and subtle mind-games) - I need to be regularly reminded that sex is essentially a behavioural rather than a visual pastime.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

My talk with G

I finally spilt the beans with G last night. Our joint conclusion after three hours of discussion was: "Maybe".

I will express my eloquent thoughts on this using some lyrics from "The Veronicas":

"La la la la. La la la la. La la la la la la la la...."

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Life is a journey of self-discovery

For the straight readers of this blog, have you ever wondered what kind of meaningful and intellectual "secret men´s business" gets discussed when gay men gather in private?

The other day in such environs S revealed that he "dresses to the left". This whole dressing to the left or right business is news to me. Apparently a proper tailor will ask you though when he measures you for trousers.

I told my peers I had no idea whether I dressed to the left or the right.

However, the next day in Pilates class during the cat stretch it became increasingly apparent as I increased the stretch that I dress quite markedly to the left.

I feel so self-aware now.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Another enjoyable chick flick

I snuck in with some gay pals to see "Confessions of a Shopaholic" last night. As with "He's Just Not That Into You", it was a good deal more enjoyable than I expected. Isla Fisher has the challenge of making a potentially quite dislikable character ultimately very endearing, no easy feat. Not everything works but there's enough that does to make it good. The director PJ Hogan, who made stars of Toni Collette and Rachel Griffiths in "Muriel's Wedding", seems to be a modern day George Cukor。

Monday, March 16, 2009

Another great idea I won't follow through on

Idea for a play: "The anal monologues".
Subtitle: "If these cheeks could talk".

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The minutae of sex and romance

I spent last weekend in Auckland.

It was a refreshing change from Hamilton which although friendly and fun and welcoming can also feel stagnant; everyone seems to have an unrequited crush on one of their friends that has dragged on for many years. In Auckland I met up with a guy B. B was "cute as" and, armed with a thin layer of self-awarness gleaned from seeing "He's Just Not That Into You", I enjoyed sepnding time with him despite the fact that he ultimately didn't want a piece of me.

Indeed, I had planned for this consequence - after a day in B's company I indulged in Centurion, Auckland's premiere gay sauna. The Kiwis are a friendly bunch and will start up a conversation with you just about anwyhere - the sauna was testament to that. On learning I was Australian someone in the dry sauna belted out a resounding chorus of the Road to Gundagai in a very entertaining fake Aussie accent. Someone in the spa told me how they were on a round-the-world cruise trip, stranded for a while in Auckland while the engine of the ship was being prepared. They seemed to be making the most of their strandedness. Someone in the shower compained to me about the water pressure.

And then there was Mohammed. Apparently Mohammed is the most common first name in the world, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got fucked up the arse by someone called Mohammed and I could crack jokes about converting to Islam for 4 minutes and 35 seconds. What with Madonna dating Jesus, it does make one wonder though if there is something cosmic going on in the universe.

Mohammed had a small penis - it may or may not be comforting to the men of the world with small peni that their size corresponds to my ability to compromise.

Meanwhile in Hamilton I feel like Daffyd from Little Britain - not only am I not the only gay in the village, gays are everywhere, especially at work. Some of them are even attractive and single, although I worry about their ability to spell.

A particular case could spell neither "globe" nor "foxes" in a friendly game of scrabble.
My crush G can spell those words (I sensibly quizzed him) but can't spell "awe", orr, and that was how he spelt it, or maybe he was too lazy to text it properly.

He also cried when Jack died last week on Home and Away. I am disturbed by this but a little hypocritically so - I have cried watching episodes of Prisoner, although I sensibly take a nightly pill now that cures that sort of thing. At least we both like Home and Away, which has come up lately with some surprisingly well-crafted dramatic scenarios, many cute men and lots of bad acting.

G likes to tease and flirt, which may or may not come to anything beyond the drunken pash we had in a nightclub.

An excerpt of text messages between me and G:

me: OMG Jack is dead!

G: Oh i no poor jack, i shed a tear or 2, actually it was a lake but whos countin :) At least Geoff and Aidin survived.

me: Did you really cry? I was laughing!

G: Yes, I have a soft heart, lovely really not like yr heart of stone, lol :)

me: My heart has a hard outside with a soft and gooey centre. A bit like a roasted marshmallow.

G: Mmmm that sounds yummy edible even lol :)

me: Please refrain from eating my heart. If you are very hungry you can have one of my kidneys.

G: Thanks but I might stick to my eggs :)

At this point I thought I had achieved a minor victory by making Gavin send the very last text of the evening. Unfortunately he followed the text with some inquiries into my teaching, which culminated in me promising to give him a "private lesson" in "long division" and promising to be "gentle".

There was no response to this gambit. I hate sending the last sms!!

Whether G and I are going anywhere largely depends on whether G is a left or right brain thinker. If he is a right-brain thinker, our texts and conversations are imbued with metaphor and sexual suggestion. If he is a left-brain thinker, he is completely oblivious to all the double meanings. It is probably safer to assume the latter.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

The clever, oblivious optimist

Below is the summary of my Myer-Briggs type. While it certainly fits me in many respects, and it fits me much better than other types, I thought I would point out a few places where I differ:

- Although I can enjoy a debate, I don't enjoy playing the devil's advocate - in fact I tend to argue with my heart on my sleeve.
- While I do love an audience, I am not _completely_ oblivious to people outside of them being an audience.

Just mostly oblivious with an occasional flash of thoughtfulness and consideration to others (wink).

Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
by Marina Margaret Heiss

Profile: ENTP
Revision: 3.0
Date of Revision: 26 Feb 2005

"Clever" is the word that perhaps describes ENTPs best. The professor who juggles half a dozen ideas for research papers and grant proposals in his mind while giving a highly entertaining lecture on an abstruse subject is a classic example of the type. So is the stand-up comedian whose lampoons are not only funny, but incisively accurate.

ENTPs are usually verbally as well as cerebrally quick, and generally love to argue--both for its own sake, and to show off their often-impressive skills. They tend to have a perverse sense of humor as well, and enjoy playing devil's advocate. They sometimes confuse, even inadvertently hurt, those who don't understand or accept the concept of argument as a sport.

ENTPs are as innovative and ingenious at problem-solving as they are at verbal gymnastics; on occasion, however, they manage to outsmart themselves. This can take the form of getting found out at "sharp practice"--ENTPs have been known to cut corners without regard to the rules if it's expedient -- or simply in the collapse of an over-ambitious juggling act. Both at work and at home, ENTPs are very fond of "toys"--physical or intellectual, the more sophisticated the better. They tend to tire of these quickly, however, and move on to new ones.

ENTPs are basically optimists, but in spite of this (perhaps because of it?), they tend to become extremely petulant about small setbacks and inconveniences. (Major setbacks they tend to regard as challenges, and tackle with determin- ation.) ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent, and show little restraint in demonstrating this. However, they do tend to be extremely genial, if not charming, when not being harassed by life in general.

In terms of their relationships with others, ENTPs are capable of bonding very closely and, initially, suddenly, with their loved ones. Some appear to be deceptively offhand with their nearest and dearest; others are so demonstrative that they succeed in shocking co-workers who've only seen their professional side. ENTPs are also good at acquiring friends who are as clever and entertaining as they are. (How flattering to readers of this blog! -Ed.) Aside from those two areas, ENTPs tend to be oblivious of the rest of humanity, except as an audience -- good, bad, or potential.

Some Famous ENTPs:

Alexander the Great
Confederate General J. E. B. Stuart
Sir Walter Raleigh


Mercutio, from Romeo and Juliet
Horace Rumpole, from John Mortimer's Rumpole of the Bailey series
Dorothy L. Sayers's detective Lord Peter Wimsey

Mohammed fucked me up the arse...

..and he has a small penis. I should add that my sphincta was very grateful his penis was small.

Meanwhile, G sent me a text which misspelt "awe" as "orr". This could be a crush breaker.

ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent, and show little restraint in demonstrating this.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Gasp! The doctor told me my Hypochondria has become exaggerated!!

I´ve had some bowel issues since Sunday and I thought I would share some of the explanations my warped (I prefer "imaginative") mind has come up with:

1. I have been "over-scooping" (drawing my traverse abdmonial muscles in too far) in Pilates, causing undue pressure on parts of my digestive system.

2. There is toxic mould in my apartment (evidenced by three flies which strangely prefer to hover in my bedroom rather than my kitchen - explain that!!)

3. Cancer.

4. I am subconsciously nervous about starting teaching next week.

5. The curry I made for myself and G on Saturday has given me gastro. I am too shy to text G to ask if he has gastro too, because I fancy him and texting means I will agonise waiting for his reply, just like the central character in "Hes just not that into you" a movie which was scarily autobiographical.

6. I have suddenly developed irritable bowel syndrome which will of course afflict me for the rest of my life.
It had to happen eventually...

I asked the secretary for some pins today and she went to get some pens.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

A Freudian Slip

I was in a lift with a gay friend yesterday when I asked him - "Do we get off on the Ground or the Bottom floor?" He replied - "Nick I think that B stands for Basement, not Bottom".

He's Just Not That Into You

My kveeny German friend S and I snuck into a screening of "He's Just Not That Into You". Hey - we weren't the only men in the cinema - although the one other man didn't look like he was there voluntarily. The movie was a little too long but a good deal more entertaining than I expected. Drew Barrymore had a small role but managed to steal the film - she's just so cute (see previous post).

It is indeed exciting that there's such a renaissance of women- (and thus, to some extent, gay-) oriented films of late. (Interestingly, gay men are highly involved in writing these chickflick scripts.) Indeed I don't think there has been anything like it since the thirties and forties.

The "chickflick" genre in the 80s/90s was restricted to romcoms and weighty "friendship" dramas (eg: "Fried Green Tomatoes", "Beaches"). Such films were sometimes great but often had predictable outcomes - girl gets the guy we knew she would get all along, friends fall out (over a man) but eventually patch up their friendship because friendship is what counts.

"He's Just Not That Into You" is not without silly and simplistic moments, and is hardly intellectually challenging. However, it is part of a complex and new genre of chickflick, which blends friendship and romance in a fresh and fun way.

Probably the most remarkable thing about this film is that there is no central character - no heroine and hero! Think for a moment how radical a departure this is for a mainstream romantic film! Instead, we get a peek into the lives of a vaguely connected network of friends and lovers. In this sense the film is somewhat in the style of Robert Altman, except that the approach is much more light-hearted and thoroughly frothy. Perhaps, though, television drama, in which there is frequently no central character, is the chief influence.

The scenes in this film are almost _entirely_ in close-up. This makes the film unashamedly women-oriented. The way this film indulges in intimate conversation is analagous to how some action films indulge in car chases and explosions. Hollywood has suddenly figured out What Women Want and realising it sells.

Having an ensemble cast allows for more unpredictable romantic outcomes without breaking totally from traditional mainstream movie narratives. Who will end up happily ever after with whom? Who will end up "single, for the time being, having a relationship with themselves?" The message of the film isn't so much "He's Just Not That Into You", but more that human interactions are complex and unpredictable and that in the twentieth century there are satisfying outcomes which include, but are not limited to, "happily ever after".

Drew and I

I have no huge desire to meet famous people, when I see someone famous in public I usually discreetly ignore them. (Of course its all academic now I live in Hamilton where no-one famous ever goes.) However I _would_ like to meet Drew Barrymore. She's just so cute!

Monday, February 2, 2009

25 random things about me

This was a thread on facebook. My ego could not resist....

Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged (optional!)

(To do this, go to "notes" under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)

1. I am allergic to carpet, mould, pet hair (actually the dust mites that feed on these), I am intolerant of cream and milk, and I am allergic to egg but not as much as I used to be - I can now eat cake!!
2. I think intelligence is an attitude and I dream that noone is afraid of knowledge.
3. I have deep fantasies of voyeuristic sadism, which go back to an illustrated Bible I had as a child that showed graphic violence.
4. I am intensely romantic - this and my loathing of domesticity is my biggest barrier to being seriously involved with someone.
5. My biggest emotional frustration is not being able to save someone in my life who is self-destructive.
6. My biggest political dream is that Australia stops digging up coal.
7. I loathe the ethos of Christianity - I strongly believe that we should do nice things because it feels good to do them, not to make ourselves "better people".
8. I have very hairy feet - in fact they are just as hairy as my legs, which are really quite hairy.
9. I have found my dream job and at least for the time being it is making me very happy.
10. I hate the Australian flag, particularly on Australia day.
11. One way I deal with neuroticism is to exaggerate it to the point of comic absurdity.
12. If I ever tease you it means I like you very much.
13. If I could get soy cappucino in a drip, I would probably not get out of bed in the morning.
14. I am biased: women are the superior gender.
15. My favourite contemporary actresses are Annette Benning, Meryl Streep and Kirsten Dunst.
16. The song "Vogue" changed my life.
17. I really can't do a Kiwi accent.
18. I don't need everything to be neatly resolved at the end of a book or film - in fact I often prefer when it isn't.
19. My only grievance against my upbringing is that my parents didn't force me to do ballet!
20. Kate Bush is a genius and The Dreaming is her masterpiece.
21. I believe in free love and safe sex.
22. I once won a breakstroke race at a school swimming carnival when I was 12. Unfortunately puberty was not generous to my muscular development.
23. German gay men are cool - especially the kveeny ones.
24. If I insult you I may be expressing deep affection. Then again I could just be insulting you.
25. I adore my friends! Unfortunately you aren´t one of them....

But I'm a lady! I do lady-like things.

I just finished reading Henry James' "Protrait of a Lady". There's something soothing to the ego about finishing a 600-page 19th century classic novel. It was a good read too. Below is my synopsis from "goodreads":

Those who disliked the film version of this novel should not be put off reading it - the novel is far superior. However those without the disposition to tolerate loose ends may be displeased.

Like many great classics, reading this book is a journey in itself. Henry James was clearly fascinated by people - how they appear to others, what motivates their behaviour and what consequences their actions have. Few nuances are left unexplored in James' analytical style of writing - for someone like me who is hungry for rich characterization, this novel is a feast. One of the themes the book explores is the meaning of freedom and independence. Isabel Archer is dsecribed as literature's first feminist - unlike some heroines she doesn't always win, but in the end she takes responsibility for all her actions - is this perhaps the essence of liberation?

Some further comments: I thought Ralph was gay and perhaps the closest to Henry James' real persona. Certainly he seemed to admire more than desire Isabel. In a sense though he was trying to manipulate her like just about every other characters in the book - but at least in a very generous way. I grew rather fond of Ralph, and his mother.

It is possible to read the story as a "punishment" for Isabel's liberation and quest for freedom, but only if you ignore all the subtleties. For me the morals of the book are more that money can't make you happy and can even cause you some grief, and that marriage isn't usually all its cracked up to be.

But the sheer joy of Henry James' writing style gave me more satisfaction than any of the moral messages. I'd like to see an adaptation of this book into a TV serial, with enough time to do it justice, rather than a movie.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Some knutting from Nuck

I knitted the ladies of my family some washcloths for Christmas. Here are some of them.

Baby Loch Ness Monsters spotted

I spotted some baby loch ness monsters in lake waikaremoana. Ian thought they were black swans. Phwah! What would he know?

A Hamiltonian conversation

Him: "So you are from Brisbane?"

Me: "Yes but I lived in Sydney for a few years."

Him: "I've heard the gay scene is really bitchy there."

Me: "Indeed - I fit right in."

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Lake Waikaremoana 3

Lake Waikaremoana 2

Lake Waikaremoana 2

Lake Waikaremoana 1

Just b4 xmas I went on a three day hike around the picturesque lake wiakaremoana with my former colleague Ian. Here are some piccies.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Some more venom on contemporary films

Another recent film that didn't impress me much (and yes, I am saying "didn't impress me much") with a Shania Twain-like twang, was "Slumdog Millionaire". It started off well, as a colourful and imaginative adventure, but descended into cliche and predictability by the end.

Today I saw an interview with the author of the novel on which the movie is based. He said the message of the story was "Sometimes you learn more about life by being street-smart". I thought this was strange and I didn't feel the story said that in a very credible way at all. While the main character's survival of his life to date certainly depended on his ingenuity and resilience, his success in the quiz show (aside from withstanding the torture between the days of the TV filming) was totally due to luck, or, if you like, fate.

So while there are heroic aspects of the character's life, there is also an element of passivity in him wining "Who wants to be a millionaire". He knows the answer to almost every question by improbable fortune rather than any formal education. Indeed, he even guesses the last answer.
There's some kind of anti-intellectualism going on here - a message, of comfort for some, that formal education is not of value - that its better to rely on luck than on your brain.

In some "moral narrative" sense the character "earns" the luck in the quiz show by surviving so much hardship in his life. It is a moral equation though that excuses the audience from being overly confronted by the reality of slum life in India - we get a voyeuristic taste of the extremes of Indian poverty, but with a nice sugar-coated ending so we can forget it as soon as the film is over.

The love story I thought was particularly prosaic - a damsel who is allowed distress (but not character devlopment) is rescued by a (rather emotionally one-tracked) knight in shining armour.

There are much worse films showing in the cinema than "Slumdog millionaire". But it is pretty lite stuff and, IMHO, not deserving of all the awards and praise it is receiving.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Good reasons not to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"

I was going to entitle this entry: "Why you shouldn't see 'the curious case of benjamin button'"; however I thought this might have the effect of reverse psychology and actually prompt some people to waste their money on this oscar-self-conscious flick.

Perhaps the most concise and convincing reason not to see the film is that it has the same screen writer as Forrest Gump. Indeed, the film falls into the same formula of "extraordinary things happening to an ordinary person".

Benjamin Button himself remains a rather unformed character throughout the film. Brad Pitt tries to give an Oscar-worthy performance simply by saying all his lines slowly and quietly, hoping that special effects and make-up will do the rest. Apart from his prediliction of ageing in reverse, there is indeed little of note or interest or development of Benjamin Button.

We see this in so many Oscar-nominated films: an aspect of a character's life such as their "genius", their good luck, their supernatural power or the famous historical events that happen to them usurp any development or personality of the character. The character becomes a passive "blank slate" on which to paint hyperbolous, cliched, ultimately empty situations and events.

Everything about this film seems cycnically geared to the Oscar season. The actors either try too hard, or, in the case of Pitt, try too hard not to try too hard. The special effect budget was obviously huge, but the effects are used in such an underlined way that they distance the viewer emotionally instead of engaging them.

It is possible to use a supernatural gimmick to explore a complex theme with some profundity - you can even (or especially) do it in a comedy, as "Groundhog Day" demonstrated. Off course, the Oscar season avoids comedies like the plague and instead goes for the self-consciously serious - just the sort of film "Button" is.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Some three-word reviews of films I have seen recently.

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button": Oscar self conscious

"Slumdog Millionaire": Indian Forrest Gump

"Another gay sequel: Gays gone wild": niche market exploitation

"Alexander's Ragtime Band": brassy ethel merman