Playing Grown Ups

OBF (Other Best Friend) and I went for a fancy lunch yesterday, just the two of us. It was super nice. I think because we have known each other for so long though, it also felt a little weird.

OBF and I met when we were in our late teens. We were both pretty 'new' to the gay scene in Perth and went out together for about 3 weeks before deciding that we were better off as friends. Our whole friendship since has been central to my existence - he is extremely important to me.

Both of us have a tendency to mania. This has proven interesting on many and varied occasions when we've been out - one particularly memorable occasion (including copious amounts of alcohol) culminated in us throwing hot wax from table candles over one another and then me ripping his shirt off in the middle of the bar (at which point we were thrown out).

So sitting opposite one another in this lovely, subdued and extremely 'grown up' restaurant together made us feel, well, a bit grown up. And it was really, really nice. We sat and ate and talked for nearly 3 hours.

I love OBF.

*I just thought the David Shrigley photo would make him laugh.

Confused Geisha

F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) and I went to see 'Memoirs of a Geisha' on Saturday.

We both loved the book, and perhaps this was partly the reason the film flopped a bit for us. To be honest, I was really quite disappointed. The best I can say about it is that it looked pretty.

Reasons why I thought it wasn't very good:

1. Although the book was written in English, the film spoken in English felt wrong.
2. Most of the leading actors in the film were Chinese, playing Japanese characters... probably because the actors were 'famous' with Western audiences (via films like 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon').
3. It was waaaaaaaayy to long.

I should have known I wasn't going to like it. It was directed by Rob Marshall (of 'Chicago' fame... which I thought was shit) and produced by Steven Spielberg. (nuff said).

Boyfriend of Forever.

I am *so* excited about the new Warhol exhibition at Hauser & Wirth: Warhol's World. Photography & Television.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of his art work - but I think his photos and films say equally as much about the man and his world.


And even more excitingly.... apparently there is a photo of my Boyfriend of Forever: Jean-Michel Basquiat.

Not a Very Good Gay

I think people have probably already established that I'm not the most typical of gays. Just the fact that I'm prepared to use the word as a noun says it all really.

But working with TWG (The Welsh Gay) has really highlighted even more just how much of an atypical gay I am. I've chatted to Nick Stephenson about this who describes himself as a homophobic homosexualist. I'm happy to identify similarly.

An example, yesterday:

TWG (The Welsh Gay): CF (Control Freak, his partner) and I have been invited to a party.

Ziggy (in his infinite naivete): Oh cool, that will be fun.

TWG: It's that type of party.

Ziggy: What type of party?

TWG: A sex party. 8 guys have been invited.

Ziggy: Is it at someone's house?

TWG: Yes.

Ziggy: Will they serve hor'dourves?

TWG looks at Ziggy incredulously.

The thing is, I hardly understand the protocol of gay sex let alone the protocol of a group of guys having a sex party. I mean, what is the process? Do people sit around sipping drinks and nibbling on blinis and chat about Celebrity Big Brother while waiting for someone to bend over or take their cock out?

I don't get it. And to be entirely honest, when gay men say shit like this to me... I feel ashamed to be gay.

Tom Vek: What the Heck?

Don't you just love how the music press feel the need to tell you exactly who a new artist sounds like?

Everything I've read about Tom Vek seems to include the line 'The British Beck?' or 'Tom Vek: The new Beck?'

If I was Tom Vek I would personally feel a bit pissed off. Don't get me wrong, Beck is a superb artist in my opinion; but Tom Vek's 'We Have Sound' is a fantastic CD and should be able to be just what it is, without being constantly compared to someone else's music.

Anyway... whatever the comparisons, I am playing it on constant repeat. Best track: Nothing But Green Lights.

I don't like Mondays

In fact, I fucking hate them.

However, today feels particularly bad. Actually, I am officially in the vilest mood I have been in for a while.

And as CSL (Crazy Spanish Lady) told me it is the worst day of the year for SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder); I choose to believe that this fact is the root of all my problems. (So what if I'm avoiding the real issues).

Ziggy Published

Oh... my friend living in Tokyo recently sent me a scanned image of the offending photo in 'Gentry' - the fashion magazine for Japanese men over the age of 40. See here for my previous post about this.

Here I am in all my glory:


Yes, yes. Fashion inspiration for Japanese men over the age of 40.

Art in a Shed

Last night I was lucky enough to be taken to the "London Art Fair" by Nick Stephenson from Shangri-La. (Thank you Mr Stephenson!)

It was the preview evening, and held in the Islington Business Design Centre; which almost upstaged the actual art, given how fantastic a venue it is. An old, yet beautifully preserved, Victorian 'shed' - Nick was telling me that apparently it had been left for a considerable amount of time to literally rot. It was so decrepit during that time that trees were growing up through the building.

Not now though. It is a stunning space, with big high ceilings and Victorian ironwork throughout. It was previously the Royal Agricultural Hall, and has been restored in a way which combines the amazing architecture with a contemporary twist.

The art itself was great - although almost overwhelming in its volume. Nick was telling me that it is very much a 'commercial' fair - so the galleries who are exhibiting pay a high premium for the space; therefore they have to recoup whatever they can.

As a result, the galleries seemed to have pulled out their 'big guns'. Walking around, there were Warhols sitting next to work by Julian Opie and Catherine Yass; work by Gavin Turk, Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin; and even some original Picassos, a few Lucian Freuds and some Henry Moores!

Ziggy did not buy anything. Primarily due to the fact that he couldn't afford anything.

oops

Ziggy has been very, very naughty...

Fit to Burst

I've kept a secret for nearly 3 weeks now... but cannot any longer.

My sister is pregnant. I'm very excited.

Although it may mean some quite major changes in my living circumstances...

The Black Hole

My weekend was a complete and utter blow out.

It started with drinks after work on Friday. After approximately 9 dry gin martinis, a couple of G&Ts and a few glasses of red wine for good luck; combined with no food; Ziggy ended up at house 'party' (after the three bars he was in) and left (not long after he arrived) in a whirl of confusion.

Problem being... once I sobered up a bit, I realised I didn't have my bag - which meant I had no wallet, no keys, and my mobile's battery (which was in my pocket) was about to die.

After calling OBF (Other Best Friend) in hysterics at about 1 in the morning, Ziggy ended up at home (after many and varied interesting adventures en route) at 4am - by feet. This is fairly impressive, as at one point (between the blackouts) I realised I was at Shepherd's Bush, which is probably a 7-8 mile walk from my house. Once I finally arrived home, I had to buzz the neighbour to let me in who put me in her spare bedroom as I didn't have the keys to my flat and FBF (Flatmate/Best Friend) had stayed at the party.

I felt sick with anxiety the next morning: What the hell happened between 1am and 4am (I only have sketchy memories (which scare me) and awful descriptions from OBF whom I called before my mobile died), where the hell was my bag?!, amongst others.

To be honest, the whole event really frightened me. Let's face it, London is a big city with all sorts of people in it, and who knows who I came across in the 3 hours I lost. It's a wonder I'm still in one piece at all.

It made me think very seriously about my drinking.

Bullies R' Us

I want Jodie "Feel sorry for me, I'm a victim of bullying, I just want to be seen for who I am, OH my boobs are so big, a TV show paid for my teeth to be done, let's pretend to be lesbians for Dennis Rodman's enjoyment, I'm a spokesperson for PETA but don't really know how to argue against the fur trade, I've had as much plastic surgery as Pete Burns but I'll bitch about his face because he looks like a freak" Marsh to be evicted from the Celebrity Big Brother house.

I don't give a shit that she feels she's been bullied. She's an idiot.




Pete Burns to win!

Bless the Tranny!

Boyfriend of the Week

I watched "Girl with a Pearl Necklace, oops I mean, Earring" last night on DVD and it made me dump Adrien prematurely. He didn't last as long as I thought he might.

Cillian Murphy is my new boyfriend. Yes, yes, he is.

I can't wait to see "Breakfast on Pluto" although it may put me off him because I don't find men dressed in women's clothing attractive.

But then again, maybe it won't, due to the fact that he's bloody gorgeous.

Rize Up

A very rare occasion: Ziggy speechless.

But that is what I was after I watched David LaChapelle's "Rize" tonight with OBF (Other Best Friend). It was such a treat after having been so disappointed with Matthew Bourne's sorry ass attempt at Scissorhands.

To see these young, dynamic (yet untrained!) dancers just doing something so completely fresh, new and instinctive was completely and utterly compelling. Like "Paris is Burning" for a new generation, "Rize" should get all the attention it can possibly garner.

LaChapelle has risen in my estimation from a fantastic but glossy photographer to a tender documentary film-maker with real social comment. The movie wasn't just a glossy observation - there was a real opportunity for the people in it to speak.

But enough of my praise.... CRUMP CRUMP CRUMP CRUMP.

Edward Scissorhands

I finally saw Matthew Bourne's "Edward Scissorhands" at Sadler's Wells on Wednesday night. I loved his version of "Swan Lake" so much that I've seen it on 4 separate occasions.

His new show, however, was a complete and utter disappointment for me. Matthew Bourne seems to have lost his ability to choreograph anything worth watching (or anything actually, as the first half had very little actual dance in it!) and in my opinion, the dancing was sloppy.

It wasn't all bad, the sets were amazing and costumes impressive - so visually it worked. But all I kept thinking was: Christmas Pantomime.

It felt like dance that had been dumbed down to make it more accessible for the masses. And after Bourne's most glorious vision for "Swan Lake", "Scissorhands" just felt sad.

Talking of Wankers...

Yesterday, my boss didn't come in due to a migraine. My new colleague (the one who suggested I should get myself a gaydar profile to find a boyfriend - from now on he shall be known as TWG - The Welsh Gay; because he is Welsh and Gay) asked if it was due to stress. Conversation follows:

TWG: Is she stressed?
Ziggy: Perhaps a little.
TWG: Do you get stressed?
Ziggy: Sometimes, but generally I cope OK.
TWG: Do you know what the best thing for stress is? I mean, if you can't go for a run or a swim or whatever?
Ziggy: No, what?
TWG: Masturbating. What you should do when you get stressed is go to the loo and masturbate. It really helps. I have a friend who wanks every single day, as he is in a very high powered position. Seriously. It really helps with stress.
Ziggy: Oh.

Um, I think I might have entered a parallel universe.

*photo courtesy of Nick Stephenson, all the way from Shangri-La...

Locals, Spitroasts and Bwankers (with a silent b)

I haven't actually had the energy to post since New Year's Eve... primarily because I didn't want/can't fully remember much of it.

A few bullet points:

• 4 very good, old friends go to my 'local' for New Year's Eve. The Fantastic Four are Ziggy, FBF (Flatmate/Best Friend), OBF (Other Best Friend) and MFP (Marito From Perth).
  
  
• Much champagne is consumed and the Fantastic Four decide to speak to random strangers to find new playmates.
  
  
• More champagne is consumed (as well as beer, whisky, gin and... never mind) and two new friends (both female) of the Fantastic Four invite us to some Wanker Banker's place up the road which turns out to be an incredibly glamorous bachelor pad.
  
  
• Wanker Banker (number 1) manages to completely despair Ziggy by owning a room full of original contemporary art, knowing pretty much NOTHING about any of it.
  
  
• More champagne (of Wanker Banker Number 1's) is consumed and the Fantastic Four have to save one of our new female friends from a possible scenario with the three Wanker Bankers. Fortunately we manage to get her out before the spit roast.
  
  
  
• Fantastic Four walk two new female friends home before heading back to our place at 4.30am, during which walk FBF falls and lands on her knee.
  
  
• Home at last, yet another bottle of champagne is opened which is drunk with cheese and tomatoes on toast until sometime nearing 6am. Ziggy begins to get random text messages from about 6 different people, none of whom he can remember.
  
  
• 12 noon New Year's Day. Ziggy's parents call to wish him a Happy New Year and Ziggy has to cut the call short (from Australia) to go puke.
  
  
• Ziggy pukes again. And again. And again. And again.

The Penultimate Day (was yesterday)

Yesterday, on the penultimate day of 2005, OBF (Other Best Friend) and I decided to brave the elements (icy winds, rain that felt like shards of glass hitting your face, etc) and go to the Tate Britain to see the Turner Prize. Both of us were quite disappointed in last year's prize (I really don't care for war in my art) but this year, it was a pretty good show.

My firm favourite was not, however, the winner. Simon Starling's work is a little too process oriented and 'high brow' for me - I appreciate what he is doing, but next to Gillian Carnegie's brilliant paintings, his shed/boat/shed just faded in to nothingness.

Gillian Carnegie's 'Black Square' paintings were especially enthralling. I couldn't help but think that looking in to them was like taking a glimpse back over an especially bad year (not that my 2005 has been especially bad, but I have had bad years before). A mass of subtle layers of thorns, trees, and distant foliage.

Another artist I 'discovered' in 2005 whom I would like to give a special mention to is Hope Atherton. In fact, I first came across her work in 2004, when I read an article about her dark paintings and especially her taxidermy work.

I forgot (in my excitement about Adrien my new boyfriend) to mention her amazing costumes she designed for the White Witch in Narnia - I think she may be one to watch out for in 2006.