Boyfriend of the Week

Well Christmas can't come soon enough... and not because I find the holiday truly inspirational or anything like that, but purely because I need a rest!

In short:

* Work is HELL.

* I want to move to Melbourne NOW rather than in a year's time.

* I hate the fact that London is about to descend in to WINTER.

* I need SLEEP.

However, in order to avoid seeming absolulely negative.... here is my new BOYFRIEND of the WEEK:



Yes, I've been watching repeats of Secret Life of Us late at night to remind me of where I will be living in a year's time. And I've fallen in love all over again.

Break in Transmission

For now, I'm too busy to blog... so until next time:

Concuss-Head

I managed somehow to give myself concussion on Friday night (I wasn't *that* drunk, honest), but a few highlights of my last few days include:

The Birthday Party of a pair of Dandy Gay Twins;

Dinner at the Criterion with Angela Bishop who was absolutely charming in quite a right wing way;

and finally...

Bill Henson at the V&As' Twilight Exhibition.

Sick Note.

One of the consultants who works for me is a complete and utter nightmare. I think I've referred to him previously as TWG (The Welsh Gay). I don't actually have time to outline the extent of his nightmarish-ness, however, need to rant about one particular area of behaviour.

TWG is always (and I mean ALWAYS) afflicted with some type of illness or another. If not the flu, a diabetes-related condition (the diabetes itself is questionable), a kidney infection or a verruca (yep, waaaayyy too much information) - he is CONSTANTLY sick.

This year he has had something like 24 days off work for illness (more days than his holidays) and approximately 14 of those days have been on Mondays (chel surprise).

Last night I went out with the Handsome Lawyer for a catch up and he is working in employment law at the moment, he offered me some advice as to how I can sack him without fear of an employment tribunal - perhaps I'll take him up on that....

Master of Mystery

Whilst on the tube homeward yesterday I snuck a peek at the tall, dark, handsome man's reading material sitting next to me and saw that he was reading something called The Mystery Method.

I did a quick scan and was surprised to see that it was actually a document to do with how to pick up women. And in my opinion, the advice wasn't that great.

Firstly, I didn't think it was that great that the 'target' was being referred to as a 'victim'. Since when did females who are being hit upon become 'victims'?!?

One line I glanced at said something like:

"Take the victim down from their friends, family and home. Once isolated they have no outside support and in their confusion are easily led astray."

Yep, I think the Mystery Method is definitely the way forward. It was developed by someone who is named Mystery. I bet he's a laugh a minute.

I wonder if The Mystery Method works with the gays?

Turning

F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend), OBF (Other Best Friend) and I went to see Anthony & the Johnsons with Charles Atlas at the Barbican in a show called 'Turning'.

A show which celebrates gender metamorphosis; the women on stage were truly celebrated in their beauty - each and every one had their moment to 'turn'.

F/BF started crying in the first song and didn't stop for over four songs. Antony's voice was as fragile yet powerful as ever and his songs took on even more resonance with the beauties' images being projected behind him.

I said to F/BF and OBF afterwards that I felt like we were watching an historic event; I have a feeling that the performance will inform and inspire artists for years to come. Truly incredible.

I've just bought an...

Apartment! (... in Melbourne)

I now have no money! But I'm very excited!

This is my new living room!

Michael Clark

So I finally have seen a Michael Clark dance performance.

I've been wanting to see one since I heard about him back in the early 90s and he worked with Leigh Bowery.

It exceeded any expectations I had - absolutely incredible. Mmm... runs until the 4th November at the Barbican.

The dance was thrilling, fresh and provocative.

3 words: GO SEE IT.

Boyfriend of the Week

I haven't had a new boyfriend for ages; primarily because I haven't had time. However, F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) and I went to see Marie Antoinette on the weekend (not bad, beautifully filmed but soooo languid that I got a bit bored) and I decided on my new Boyfriend of the Week.

Jamie Dornan - welcome. And the way you look, I think you might last a while. I won't mess you around like Keira did. Honest.

Adventures of the Jacketini

So I went out with my ex-boyfriend's brother (also a gay) on Friday night; I have always been very fond of him and he really makes me laugh - for a while he attempted to become fat enough to be labelled a bear; but only made it as far as cub status. We'll call him Cub for the purpose of this post.

I hadn't seen him for some time and have been working so hard that I knew I was well up for a few (aka many) drinks. We met at a very smart wine bar Grape Street in Bloomsbury and were surrounded by a mixture of very polite punters.

I'd decided to kill some time before I met him by shopping. For baby clothes. I've been going a bit mad since I found out my sister is pregnant, and now I've found out it's a girl I've been even worse. One of the items I purchased was an incredible double-breasted winter coat - in faux cream astrakan fur. It cost me more than I've spent on a single item of clothing for myself in some time - Cub and I decided to christen it "The Jacketini". A silence fell all around us and people nearby gasped when I pulled it out to show him.

Anyway, after 3 bottles of wine we foolishly decided to stumble to Trash Palace (why, oh why?!) where we carried on drinking until 3am.

I awoke the next morning with a vague recollection of knocking so loudly on the front door of my mews house to wake up F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) to open the door for me. I had forgotten that my house keys were in my pocket and not only woke up F/BF but half of the neighbourhood in the process. I quickly glanced around my room to see that I had my phone, wallet and shoulder bag - they were all present and accounted for. Then a horrible thought slowly dawned on me: Where is the Jacketini and other baby clothes?

I scrambled out of bed and did a search of the entire house - surely they were dumped in the hallway or on the stairs? No, no Jacketini to be found.

Obviously I went in to complete and utter meltdown. I was sure that having left them in the Palace of Trash that some lesbian couple had taken them for their soon to be born baby - why wouldn't they? Who wouldn't?

On speaking to Cub he informed me that he'd left his bag there as well and was going to check with the bar (once it reopened) to see if the Jacketini there. I was unhopeful.

Later that day Cub called me and gleefully screamed down the phone that the Jacketini was safe! I was so happy I could have kissed him. Somehow it managed to escape the clutches of the soon-to-be-lesbian-mothers and my soon-to-be-born-neice will be the most glamorous of all Perth babies.

I only hope that tonight is not a repeat performance...

Humour Me.

Was this when he was at his most beautiful? Yes, yes, it was.

Shoulder Pads

Moan of the day.

As I mentioned, we've had a new trainee - we'll call her Cheeky Mare (CM) for the purposes of this post (she's lovely and cheeky in a good way) - start at my company about a month ago who I'm responsible for managing. We have set her targets together; I believe that people are best motivated when self driven - we are all unique creatures and different people are motivated by different things.

Ginger Boss (GB) decided today that she was obviously not involved enough in this process - perhaps she doesn't think I'm doing my job as manager properly (!?) - so decided to pitch our two consultants against each other in a 'competition' which will culminate in a prize for the person with the best sales figures.

It's really pissed me off. I mean, firstly; obviously she thinks it is entirely reasonable to undermine me as a manager. Secondly, how bloody eighties-power management-padded shoulders does she want to be?!!

Can you tell I'm completely over my job?

Over and Out

I could write about my brilliant weekend. I could write about how full on my job is right now. I could write about my attempt to buy an apartment in Melbourne. But I'm not going to. I've got something I have to get off my chest.

I am SO VERY BORED with Kate Moss. Yes, she of the slightly dirty looking face/hair; the drug-addled boyfriend whose band has just cancelled the rest of their tour because he's doing 'so well' at rehabilitating; the 3 year old child that has to live with the fact her mother is a drug dependent loser.

Why is it that this stupid, irresponsible woman still manages to stay on top?

How long ago was it that she was caught with her noseful of the white powder? Yet somehow she manages to be splashed all over our TV screens and magazines in what seems to be new contracts? What does this say about us, the general public?

Kate Moss - I think you should crawl under a rock somewhere. Frankly, you look dirty and you bore me.

Three Things

1. I feel ambushed by work. Right now it is overtaking my life. I don't live to work, I work to live - but right now, it feels the other way round.

2. I have the autumnal blues. All I can think about is the impending winter. At least it is going to be the last one in London I have to deal with for a while.

3. I miss having time to read all my fellow bloggers' thoughts. It sounds slightly ridiculous, but I've come to enjoy hearing about your lives and wonder what I am missing out on when I don't have the time to read you!

Hungover-Head.

This is about all I can manage today, after last night's little number. It's all Dale's fault. He made me drunken blog. Honest, he did.

Blog of the Drunk.

right.

we're talking about party lines. It was a late 80s/early 90s thing. You called a phone line and there was a group of people chatting all together. And we used to pretend that we were other people. That was the party line.

3 bottles of wine down - first time for drunken blogging.

OBF (Other Best Friend) and F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) are talking about pretending to be people they are not. And paranoia. Something I'm quite familiar with.

oh I like alcohol.

Back to M.I.A.

Wedding of the Year

I'm such a busy bee at the moment with work that I don't have a moment to scratch myself let alone blog...

I feel the need to quickly list the highlights of the Wedding of the Year between Marito and Mad Girl. OBF (Other Best Friend) took the Wedding photos, I'll post one when I have one but in the meantime, here's the invitation.

Edited highlights...

* Marito (in his fabulous Ozwald Boateng suit) and I drinking champagne together before the ceremony to calm his nerves;

* The group of hilarious "A-list Gays" (NOT) including Big Brother's Josh Rafter looking pumped full of steroids and leaving the wedding early to go to Revenge;

* Mad Girl's fantastic fifties inspired, powder pink dress - and how much weight she'd lost! (laxatives, surely!?);

* The photo shoot on Brighton Beach with champagne;

* Wedding Speeches by Mad Girl's 2 sons - both made me cry;

* The Crispy Pork Belly I ate for my lunch;

* Ziggy slumped on a seat at the end of the evening asking random people to remind him what his name was.

Smooth Moves

I'm still here.

Just recovering from moving in to our new mews house.

And the Wedding of the Year.

Exhaust-Head.

Awakening

A little while ago, I ended up in bed with somebody who is a very good friend. We have been friends for some time - I really value his friendship. I have never done something like that before but it felt entirely right - there has always been a certain sexual tension in our friendship.

Bizarrely though, it awoke something within me. I've been by myself for a while now, and I think I had neglected to remember what intimacy at that level is like. Because him and I are good friends, the whole thing felt entirely natural and comfortable - tickling... laughing; he burped... I laughed; he held me in bed... I sighed.

I had thought for a while that I was better off being single - I know that this has to do with trust issues and resultant barriers I've placed around myself subsequent to The Wanker.

But this little interlude suddenly re-reminded me what is so good about being in a relationship - those pure moments of connection which might not seem that significant but feel really, really special.

Just a moment...

F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) and I started our move over the weekend. GB (Ginger Boss) had been kind enough to loan me her car so that we could start moving over things like books, glassware, crockery, etc. It wasn’t too bad, although by Saturday afternoon when I was driving the car across London back to GB’s place I was pretty exhausted.

By the time I reached GB’s I was desperate for a drink of the alcoholic variety and thankfully, so was GB. We ended up in Balham Kitchen & Bar, and one drink turned in to five. (Ziggy the devil strikes again).

Anyway, I had to take the tube home and feeling slightly intoxicated, put my iPod on. At Elephant & Castle station I changed on to the Bakerloo line, and on the way down the platform walked past a very attractive looking guy (Blonde Adonis) walking in the opposite direction. He glanced at me but I was almost certain he was straight. And even if he was gay, he was completely out of my league.

I got on the Bakerloo line tube in the last carriage and awaited the train to depart. Three minutes wait is a long time on the London Underground! Just before the train departed, I was slightly bewildered to see Blonde Adonis jump on to my carriage – why? Just a few minutes ago I had seen him walking in the opposite direction.

I soon realised that Blonde Adonis was rather drunk. He almost fell in to the woman sitting next to him when he sat down, and smirked to himself in a goofy stylee. I smirked back because I knew the feeling (and his smile made me feel warm and fuzzy). The tube is quite a surreal place when you’re drunk – you realise that everyone around you potentially thinks you are an idiot, but what do you care?

All of a sudden I realised that Blonde Adonis was staring intently at me. Of course, I refused to look anywhere near his direction. I am crap at situations like this, particularly when I find someone physically attractive.

A few stations on and Blonde Adonis stood up (almost falling on top of me in the process). He stood right in front of me and stared at me, before walking to the nearest door (stumbling in the process but pretending to stretch whilst glancing over at me).

As the doors opened, he looked at me and mouthed ‘get off here with me’. I obviously looked confused so he repeated the command ‘get off here with me’.

I shook my head (probably not that convincingly as I really wanted to get off with him – in every sense of the expression) and as the door pulled shut, he stood with his arms held wide apart and a sad puppy dog look on his face as the train pulled away.

A girl sitting opposite me then indicated for me to take my earphones out, which I did:

Tube Girl: “um…. Why the hell didn’t you get off with him??”

I so didn’t have a good answer to that question.

My first ever gig

I read Marni's post today, and it reminded me of a very special life moment for me.

When I was a very little boy, we used to live next to a family who had two teenage children - whom I thought were supercool. At the age of 6, the girl in the house used to babysit me (she would have been around 14 I guess) and play me her vinyl records. She was a bit of a bogan, but at the age of 6 I could not imagine anything cooler than black ugg boots, skinny tight black jeans and a flannelette shirt.

About this time I started to acquire an taste in rock music; the band who really captured my imagination were KISS. Here were these 4 really mysterious men wearing make up and lycra suits, one whose tongue was so long that there were rumours he'd had it lengthened. They played tunes that made this little 6 year old think he was somewhere a million miles away from Perth suburbia. (yes, the suffocation of suburban life was getting to me even at 6 years of age...)

So when my mother heard that KISS were playing a live rock concert at the Perth Entertainment Centre the following year, she decided to do the most amazing thing. She camped overnight in front of the centre with my best friend's mother to secure tickets for us all.

And so it came about that my first ever gig was KISS, at 7 years of age. Mum bought me some skinny black jeans and a Paul Stanley t-shirt, we turned up at the gig, the only slight dampener being when Mum made me put cotton wool in my ears.

I love my Mum. She rocks, much more than KISS .

playmeyours

Remember I told you about the most fabulous Random Girl and the mp3-jack-swapping-incident which restored my faith in humanity? Well I received this little treat in my inbox today:

Hello Zig,

It's Random Girl. Colour me happy - I'm grinning from ear to ear. You have no idea how much YOU'VE made MY day just from reading your blog! If I have achieved anything in life, it was asking you to playmeyours - which was my own personal challenge - to ask someone who was listening AND reading at the same time. Most of the time that screams 'DO NOT DISTURB' but you engaged and I was so grateful.

I'm working with a couple of friends on ideas for my site. Now, I've just had a big push to get this sorted!!

Thanks again for that great recap of our 'moment'. Really special.

Until the next time...

RG x

I *so* hope that Random Girl gets this site up and running before some big corporation like Apple do it before her... GO Random Girl, GO!!

Reading Material

Huge weekend, completely trashed, my brain is numb - so best I can do is this tag given to me by the most glorious Dabich:

1. One book that changed your life: Sarah by J.T. Leroy.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island: The Complete David Bowie by Nicholas Pegg.

4. One book that made you laugh: Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs.

5. One book that made you cry [or feel really sad]: Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.

6. One book that you wish had been written: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides.

7. One book that you wish had never been written: How the Dead Live by Will Self.

8. One book you’re currently reading: The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier.

10. Now tag some other people: I tag Good Girl, Erik and CuteCTGuy!

I've just noticed that I've been tagged by Good Girl, bear with me GG - I promise I'll do it when my brain is back in gear!

Mix Tape

Desperately Seeking Translator

I've been listed on some French blog called Le R*ck est m*rt (Rock is Dead?!) bizarrely but given I can't understand French, am not entirely sure why.

I attempted to work out this mystery with the use of an online translating tool. I started with the phrase: être tombé sur un blog décadent and it threw me two possibilities:

1. to have fallen on a decadent blog; or

2. to have fallen on a declining blog.

um, I'm *really* hoping it is the first option. Does anyone speak French? If so, please go to the site and let me know whether I'm marvellous or simply merde...

Porny Art and Random Girls

I went to see the premiere of Destricted at the Tate Modern tonight. OBF (Other Best Friend) was supposed to be accompanying me but unfortunately couldn't make it from the airport in time (he was arriving back from Amsterdam where he had been to see Madonna).

Given the material, he was literally about the only person I would have felt comfortable sitting next to. The 7 short films explore the lines between art and pornography, and the producers have commissioned some really interesting (and controversial in their own right) artists; Matthew Barney, Marina Abramovic, Larry Clarke, Marco Brambilla, Richard Prince, Sam Taylor-Wood and Gaspar Noé.

Sam Taylor-Wood's piece felt quite obvious, to the point that one member in the audience proclaimed a large sympathetic 'oh' when the man masturbating in Death Valley reached his denoument, with a rather disappointing amount of jizz (if any?). Similarly obvious was We Fuck Alone by Noé, although rather more disturbing.

Matthew Barney's piece, Hoist was typically visceral and really rather beautiful, albeit tense to watch (especially for a man wondering what might happen to the bloke who was being filmed if his tackle got caught in the machinery...)

Marian Abramovic's ode to Balkan folklore had the entire audience chortling with delight, but the highlight of the films for me was Larry Clarke's superb deconstruction of how people born after 1980 have been shaped by their heightened access to pornography - Impaled. As usual, Clarke's focussed (and slightly perverted) vision seems to manage to strike exactly the right balance between making his audience feel amused and simply dirty.

I caught the tube home with my head full of tits, cocks, butts and money shots listening to my ipod, when a Random Girl got on and gestured to my ipod...

Random Girl: What are you listening to?

Ziggy: David Bowie.

Random Girl: Right, I do this thing where I ask someone on the tube to play me a track of theirs that they've been listening to loads and I play them one of mine. Are you up for it?

Ziggy: Yeah, sounds cool.

We then proceed to play one another our chosen tracks (I chose to play her Joan As Policewoman's 'Save Me', while she played me 'Do Not As I Do' by Hanne Hukkelberg). I loved that moment. One girl bored of the benign attitude of London tube travellers decides to engage people through music.

This little interlude couldn't have come at a better time to be honest. It shifted my rather dark mood and I got to listen to some fantastic new music in the process. Thanks Random Girl.

'cause you can never really tell

My weekend: started writing my business plan for Australia, laughed and cried with OBF (Other Best Friend), caught up with FLiH (Friend Living in Houston) who was visiting for the weekend for dinner and drinks and then sat on my sofa today and had some time by myself - the first time it seemed in ages. My bipolarity was in full force, of course.

Stay - that's what I meant to say or do something
But what I never say is stay this time
I really meant to so bad this time
'Cause you can never really tell when somebody
Wants something you want too

Homo-Tag

CuteCTGuy has tagged me (oo-er, missus) - but as usual it's taken me a few days to do it.... !

1... Things that scare me
dishonesty
fear
insincerity

2...People who make me laugh

Gina Riley aka Kim
Catherine Tate
My B.I.L. (Brother In Law)

3...Things I hate the most

Ignorance
Coldplay
Unclaimed farts

4...Things I don't understand

Life
My Brain
The Middle East crisis

5...Things I'm doing right now

Typing this
Pretending to work
Drinking coffee

6...Things I want to do before I die

Meet David Bowie
Have sex with David Bowie
Marry David Bowie

7... Things I can do

Laugh
Cry
Dance

8... Ways to describe my personality

Honest
Stubborn
Contradictory

9... Things I can't do

Lie to people I love
A backflip (which really bothers me)
Curl my tongue

10...Things I think you should listen to

David Bowie
Kate Bush
Radiohead

11...Things you should never listen to

Listen to anything you like, why should I tell you what not to listen to?!?

12...Things I'd like to learn

To play the piano
To speak Japanese
More about human psychology

13...Favorite foods

Barbequed Seafood
Any Japanese food
Confit de Canard

14...Beverages I drink regularly

Water
Coffee
Gin

15...Shows I watched as a kid

Fraggle Rock
The Muppet Show
Monkey aka Monkey Magic!





I now tag Good Girl, the very bovvered Dale AND Bluez ;-)

Happy Weekends!

Decisions, Decisions

I've made a rather major life decision.

I've decided that I am going to move back to Australia in a year's time.

It has been bubbling away in my mind for a while but finally I've decided it is what I want (and need) to do.




Which means I have a year left here in London, and I need to do lots of things before I leave.

So on my jam-packed weekend, my good friend (and fellow Book Club member) DJ Slippers and I went to Claridge's for afternoon tea. It was lovely sitting in the Art Deco foyer and drinking tea out of the Claridge's bone china.

DJ Slippers looked like a modern day Bettie Page (albeit fully dressed), with her Louise Brooks black bob, a leopard print chiffon blouse, pencil skirt and tailored black jacket.

I was wearing a fitted white shirt, pin stripe trousers, some *very* pointy black shoes and a thin grey tie...


...we looked like something out of a fifties fashion shoot.

On walking through the revolving doors, the numerous groups of grannies and the ultra wealthy sipping tea seemed to all stare at us in unison - I don't think we were the type of clientele the place was used to.

Who cares... we felt fabulous and the smoked salmon finger sandwiches were delicious.

Book Club Session 2

Saturday night we had our second book club meeting - this time the book was DJ Slippers' choice: Wise Children by Angela Carter.

The night was hosted by DJ Slippers and Mrs Vanderbilt and was a complete success - the wine never stopped flowing and the food was delicious.

Wise Children seemed to inspire some rather passionate debate which was great - I, myself, didn't feel that I accessed the novel as well as I could have done; and posed the question as to whether this may have been because I am male. This notion was not supported by Kevin Aucoin, however, who absolutely adored the novel (as did DJ Slippers; Mrs Vanderbilt was more in my camp) and by the end of the book felt a tingle of appreciation from head to toe.

The carnivalesque themes of the book appealed to most of us to varying degrees, and the Shakespearean references irritated some more than others (me the most, it has to be said...!).

The book club ended with a random choice of our next novel (from a choice of four books) by Coco Chanel (DJ Slippers and Mrs Vanderbilt's kitty) who was so definite in her decision that no-one could possibly argue. Her choice? The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri (as suggested by Kevin Aucoin).

Hoorah!

Boyfriend of the Week

Normally my boyfriends are not *quite* this beautiful, but I simply couldn't help myself.









Gael García Bernal - congratulations. Even though you are so beautiful, you can be my boyfriend.

Of the week.

In other news, I'm literally ecstatic that people are starting to realise how truly disgusting Mel Gibson is. He truly revolts me.

Beer, Anyone?

I was out of London for the weekend; it was great to have a break from the city and the pressures here. My fug lifted slightly which was great.

However, the weekend was also about catching up with some friends of mine who live out of London - friends I've had for a long time and who are incredibly dear to me.

Although the weekend was nice (good to see friends, get out of London, etc), there was a couple of moments that really confused me. One of my dear friends there (we'll call her Dear Friend - DF for the purpose of this post) seemed to be acting out of character quite a lot; she was quite aggressive (normally she is the most easy going, gentle woman around) and then withdrawn and quiet at other times.

Monday I was back at work (with a vengeance - we are working on a huge tender which is quite overwhelming) and I received a call from my friend (MofBAY) whose place we were all staying at for the weekend. It transpires that DF had broken down just after I left and told MofBAY (in between the sobs that lasted for over 3 hours) that she felt a 'useless mother' and that her children hated her; that she was on the verge of leaving it all and that she simply couldn't cope.

The call upset me greatly - mostly because this has obviously been going on for DF for some time but because of the 'taboo' surrounding mental health, DF simply didn't feel able to talk about it. Why is that?

It is fine for us to discuss with friends how we feel physically - but to talk about our psychological/emotional state is not as simple. Society feels nowhere near as comfortable with mental health as it does with physical health - and I believe we all suffer because of it.

In other news, I recently watched a film which was possibly the most bizarre (and beautiful) film I've ever seen - Guy Maddin's The Saddest Music in the World. Guy Maddin is a genius; I wonder how his mental health is?

Heavy Fog

My head is in a complete fug at the moment. I don’t really understand what that’s about; I just feel dazed and confused. And not necessarily in a good way.

I puked a few times (not alcohol induced) yesterday and the day before also so decided to have the day off work yesterday. In amongst all of this: Wednesday night I had gone on my fourth (and final) date with HL (Handsome Lawyer).

The soundtrack to the fog surrounding me has been a mix of:

1. Joan of Police Women*:

I don't want to live for tomorrow
save me
I don't want to live for tomorrow
save me
I don't want to live for tomorrow
I don't want to live for the dying chance
if you're already good as gone
if you're already good as gone

2. CSS:

Come and erase me, take me with you.
Kiss me I’m drunk, don’t worry it’s true
I want you to show me how mad is your love
Come and attack me, it’s not gonna hurt

Fight me, deny me if I fear when you’re close
Let’s make love and listen to death from above…

3. The Grates**:

Some mother fuckers think they're born to dance,
Some mother fuckers think they're born to, dance,
Shakin' like you don't know what you're waiting for,
Shake like bacon ice cold it's floored,
But you're stuck,

Inside inside inside inside inside, outside,
Outside outside outside outside outside, inside,
Now, twirl for me,
Twirl like a little girl…

And I wonder my head is in a fog…

* thanks to F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) for discovering the beauty of Joan…

** and thanks to B.I.L (Brother In Law) for alerting me to the energy of The Grates...

Exhaust-Head.

That's it, kids. I have officially had too much to do. My liver has begun to bark again. Organic had a serious word about this with me recently and I know it's not good.

My weekend was too full to talk about in detail, but my Saturday sort of sums it up:

I caught the train down to Brighton to see Marito and his soon-to-be-wife, Mad Girl at their wedding venue for lunch - I've been asked to be Best Man so we needed to talk through how it was all going to happen. He is my straight husband and she is a bitch for stealing him from me. Sigh.

I arrived at the venue at 1.30pm and as I had somehow arrived before them (even though my journey was an hour and a half and they live literally around the corner from the place) I decided to start with a glass of champagne (well it was the middle of the day, it's only right). Marito flew in to the place in a highly strung flap and Mad Girl followed shortly after - and the drinking commenced. My goodness, do those two know how to drink. A long, leisurely and frankly lovely lunch ensued, followed by literally hours of drinking (champagne, I decided that if I stuck to champagne my hangover wouldn't be as bad as if I mixed.... the logic seemed right at the time.)

I ended up falling out of the place at 10pm and somehow getting a taxi to take me back to Brighton station in an attempt to catch the last train back to London. Which I somehow managed. Problem being the last train was a 'stop' train, which takes nearly twice as long as the express. Great.

A very drunken Ziggy on board the last train with a bunch of other drunken random strangers singing along with my music (compliments of my ipod turned up very loud so we could all hear it through the earphones - the music was actually not that important anyway, our voices were doing the job fine).

I got home at around 1am and was pleasantly surprised to find F/BF drinking (you guessed it...) champagne.

So of course I carried on drinking with the lovely lady (such a gentleman) and we ended the night with our furniture pushed out of the way in our living room and some crazy laydee dancing.

Fabulous.

You Muppet!

Things seem to have turned a corner a bit for me, I'm feeling a bit better. A couple of good things that have happened include:

1. Had date # 3 with Handsome Lawyer (HL). He took me to Rules which, although supposedly a bit of a tourist trap, is amazing. Really good, comforting English food cooked very well. I'm not saying anything more about the evening yet...

2. Spoke to my beautiful friend The Doctor and resolved our issues - we spoke on the phone last night for one and a half hours and I, for one, feel much better for having had the conversation.

But what I'm much more interested in talking about today is the DVD I watched last night - Muppet's Wizard of Oz.

I love the Muppets, but recent films like this one just don't cut it in my opinion. Dorothy was played by a lacklustre Ashanti, Aunt Em by Queen Latifah (puh-lease. she can't act for shit) and some of the muppets just didn't seem to sparkle like they used to.

There were still a couple of choice moments, I particularly liked Toto being played by Pepe the Prawn, Okay?

But now for my question of the day (and what an important question it is...):

Who is your favourite Muppets character and why?

I'll get the ball rolling - mine is Beaker for the following 5 star performance:

Crying Cats and Happy Endings

BAY (Beautiful and Young) and her family whom I love (one and all) bought me a ticket to see The Cat Empire for my birthday back in May; the actual gig was Friday night. It was the first time BAY and her younger sister had been to a gig and to be honest, this very fact excited me even more than the gig itself. I think The Cat Empire are OK musically, not enough to buy their CD though.

The gig itself was fantastic. The band were really energetic and everyone was dancing which was great - the girls and I even did some moshing (I haven't moshed in years so this was rather amusing...); I actually got quite drunk with MofBAY (Mum of BAY), my very dear friend (it was the first time we had been 'out' in ages - she's recently been given the all clear after extensive breast cancer treatment) and ended up telling some of their friends from their posh village who were also at the gig that they were homophobic and should go back to the 'nowhere village they come from'. Oops.

MofBAY loved it of course. She and DofBAY (Dad of BAY) are Londoners who moved out so that their children could grow up away from the pressures of city life - sensible in theory, but finding like-minded people to mix with is the hard bit. Anyway, all in all it was fantastic and great to see the girls loving their first gig.

I retreated to my bedroom for most of Saturday - I've had a bit of a tough week emotionally to be honest and felt I needed some time away from people in general. (as an aside: I spoke to my sister who has felt her baby move for the first time - so exciting!)

Sunday I had plans to see other friends but cancelled those as well and watched a fantastic DVD called Happy Endings.

It probably wasn't that fantastic a film, but given my mood it was perfect. F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) had been crying Sunday morning in an uncontrollable stylee at hearing some news that a good friend of F/BF's mother has three months left to live, due to cancer in just about every internal organ imaginable. Bizarrely it made me think of my Nan who died at just 57 (I was 7 years old) and how I used to lie in bed with her in the last few weeks of her life (she died at home, my mother nursed her) and she still would tell jokes and try and make me laugh. Right up to the very end.

Anyway, Happy Endings made me cry again and then I sobbed uncontrollably for about 3 hours. Which was great. I feel so much better today for it. And my eyes look amazing.

**managed to somehow upload the photos! yay me! oh, and maggie gyllenhaal is beautiful... **

have a nice weekend...

You've never been to Niagara Falls?
I have seen water, its water, that's all...
The Eiffel Tower, the Empire State?
My pulse was as high on my very first date!
Your grandson's hand as he plays with your hair?
To be honest, I really don't care...

I've seen it all, I've seen the dark
I've seen the brightness in one little spark.
I've seen what I chose and I've seen what I need,
And that is enough, to want more would be greed.
I've seen what I was and I know what I'll be
I've seen it all - there is no more to see!

.... I've been listening to bjork again

Tag-Head by my beeiiiaatch Dabich

I haven't been tagged for ages so was a bit excited to see this one via my favourite beeiiiaatch:








Rapper Name - Homo (Z)apian. (well this is a ridiculous answer to a ridiculous question... sorry, Scribe...)

Alternative Rock Band Name - Stardusters.

Name your pain - The pain of existence.

1 True Word That Symbolizes God - Reality.

1 True Love or 1 Million Dollars? - True love every time.

Live Free or Die Stupid? - I'm already stupid so I'll choose the Live Free.

Purist, happiest moment ever (8 words or less) - My first ever orgasm.

Most Influential Life Lesson - Trust is something that has to be earned.

Most Succesful Person You Least Admire - George Bush.

Where we go when we die (1 word) - Somewhere.

Worst TV Show of the Past Decade - Big Brother (especially in its current incarnation).

Best TV Show of the Past Decade - Doctor Who.... NO, Kath & Kim, NO... Catherine Tate... OH I CAN'T CHOOSE!!!

Still with me, yes or no? - Struggling through it somehow....

Burning Building - baby or dog? - I'm with Dabich on this one, one under each arm.

Who runs the world? (2 words or less) - Bigoted losers.

Worst Idea You Ever Had - To stay in the relationship with my ex-partner (the Wanker).

Shittiest Job You Ever Had - Hotel receptionist - although the stories I could tell are good ;-)

Best Job You've Ever Had - The one still to come (or at least that's what I'm telling myself).

I believe I have to now tag 3 others to keep in the spirit of the game... so I tag Ryan, Constant (seeing as Scribe chose not to) and the Twinkling Monkey...

Boyfriend of the Week

My weekend was way too full of things for me to talk about, the thought of writing it down is slightly overwhelming (and as I'm feeling a little emotionally fragile I just can't do it);

so instead, here is my Boyfriend of the Week.

Mike Patton, formerly of Faith No More and Epic fame.

I want him to look like he did then though. Yeah.

Smug Gays and Marriage

Although I doubt I will personally ever get married, I don't have a problem with other gay people choosing to do so. In fact, I support whatever decision someone makes for themselves with regards to commitment - after all, it is their relationship, not mine.

That said, I am finding it quite difficult at the moment with various people around me.

TWG (The Welsh Gay) is currently planning his marriage to the man he has been in a relationship with for 7 years. Great. Apart from the fact that they have both had 'extra-marital' affairs and search for 'extra-marital' trysts together constantly.

Um, sorry - but how does that fit in to the 'sanctity' of marriage? For example:

"I, John take thee Barry to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till in death we part, and with this ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor, and pledge my unfaithfulness."

Actually Barry - it's all about the threesomes. Why bother marry, TWG? And what exact reason do you have to be so smug about it?