Catching up with the past (or vice-versa)

The 80s!

Oh my god, it’s the last thing you want to happen when you’re out and about, not showered and looking like a car accident!

Of course my reaction was much worse than the actual situation but…what else is new?

What are we talking about? Well, running into one of your ex-boyfs unexpectedly. Now it isn’t that serious since today’s incident relates to a boyf from 25 years ago but anyway…you don’t wanna look like absolute shit when you run into someone from your past. Even if that person treated you like garbage for a year or so and permanently wrecked your mind. Oh look, there I go…over dramatising yet again! 😉 But we did break up 10 times and get back together 9. It was a very eventful, if horrible and embarrassing period of my life.

But still, it does make you think….it kind of hits you in the nuts a bit. I flashed back to then and suddenly started questioning my life and my bucketload (small bucket admittedly) of crap romances over the years. And you kind of think about the good times you shared with the ex and air-brush the bad times. Now given the bad times were about 90% of the time, that’s some amazing airbrushing! Photoshop would struggle! 😉

Yoda (my best friend forever) and I were out of the house on a sunny Sunday doing the usual haunts…Leichhardt…JBHiFi….and the fish & chip shop in Annandale (which I have been going to since 1989 when I lived in Annandale!). Now it takes 2 buses and a lot of determination to get there but still I do it. But anyway, who should I run into (well sorta) as we go through the door to get some lunch…yes that’s right – the “ex”. Probably the most important one (and that’s what shits me – having to admit that).

Anyway, it was all very “pretended I didn’t see him” and vice-versa. I sat in the shop making polite conversation with Yoda whilst thinking “arghhh…get me out of here!” I was surprised Yoda hadn’t noticed but, in fact, he had but thought the “ex” didn’t look enough like he did back then so dismissed it. “Wasn’t he really short?,” said Yoda, “He seems taller now.” I don’t fucking know…maybe he’s wearing heels! Yoda also remembered punching him back then too. Ah, crazy times..

Part of me was thinking “Oi vey! This was quarter of a century ago, so much has happened since and you’re not the same person…” and the other part of my brain was going “oh shit, I look terrible, he looks older and grizzled but still basically in shape.” And all that kind of rubbish. Seriously, this was all NUTSO thinking. I don’t really understand how things from such a long time ago can still cause such a reaction. Perhaps we’re all just a collection of our past insecurities and mistakes.

It was quite funny now that I think about it….I had assumed he would have left the shop before us. But our order was ready super-quick and we had to pass right in front of him as we left. Arghhh! But yeah, think of what you don’t want to happen and it always happens! I’m giggling a bit now as I type this.

As we caught the first bus back to whence we came, Yoda said “you’re not really upset about it are you?” and I replied “No, of course not, it was just unexpected and it just makes you re-live and re-think things, that’s all.” Then it became a bit of a joke “You’re not gonna go home and want to watch ‘Of Human Bondage’ are you?” The ex was very much like the lead character in that movie and so had been nicknamed as such many years ago. But no, I didn’t need to do that…I just needed to do a bit of a flashback for a while and verbalise it. And yeah, just had to think about what I’ve done in the last 25 years and the people I’ve touched and the mega-travelling I’ve done and the friends I’ve made. In a way, it was good because occasionally you need to remember how many fantastic things have happened in your life and how many opportunities you’ve had…it is very easy to forget the breaks you’ve had and only concentrate on the bad times. A bit of a mental and verbal gratitude journal happened.

Eventually the conversation moved on to other things and we continued on our merry way. I thought “I really want to write a blog entry about this but all I seem to write about is Swedish pop thesedays!” But screw it, it deserves a blog entry.

The past, past, well now let me tell you about the past
The past is filled with silent joys and broken toys,
laughing girls and teasing boys,
Was I ever in love? I called it love – I mean, it felt like love,
There were moments when, well, there were moments when….


They say time heals everything but I’m still waiting

With a story about (yet another) “possible” reunion of a certain Swedish band hitting the mainstream Aussie press yesterday, Grant and I were contacted by friends (again) about it.

It’s been 4 years now since the ugly incident with those Swedish c**** and their record company and yet people think we’re still “fans” and that we would still be excited about a possible concert tour.

You can’t be rude to friends who, after all, are just showing a genuine interest in you. But it does make us shake our heads sometimes and wonder “don’t they get it? how could they not get it after all this time?”

Always a lover of the shock one-liner, I texted back a friend last night, “the only reunion of those people I’m interested in is six feet under!” 

Anyway, as this reunion rumour brought everything up again, I was reminded of a song I played a lot during that whole ugly legal situation…it seemed to sum up my feelings and situation pretty well. The lyrics don’t exactly match of course but, overall, the sentiment is spot-on for how I feel. Who knew the Dixie Chicks would end up giving my so much solace over the last few years!

You may have to click through to watch this video on Youtube [thanks to yet another s***house record company 😉 ]

A day off

Ahhhh…..the luxury of a day off from work. A legit day off too!

With flatmate Yoda off in Stockholm for a while, I decided I needed a day all to myself to luxuriate in the ecstasy of doing absolutely nothing. Nada. Nil.

It started off with a “sleep in”. Well, kind of. I woke up about 5am and the birds were tweeting (although they don’t have computers or twitter accounts) and the sun was about to come up…and I wasn’t having any of this. So I had a slash and went back to bed, made sure the window was shut, curtains were closed and the heater was turned on. It wasn’t cold but the heater acts like a sleeping pill for me sometimes. The warmth and the repetitive, hypnotic noise must have something to do with it.

Next thing I knew, I’d woken again and it was just after 9am. This was way too early for me on a day like this so I tried to go back to sleep. No such luck. I gave up and got up and did one productive thing – made an appointment for the optometrist that I’d been fart-arsing around about for a year.

Turned on the tele, had something for breakfast, took vitamins….went on Twitter via TweetDeck and had some fun with the right-wing conservatives. Surfed the web…mainly shopping sites…still hot for a Nokia E5 and a Panasonic FH20. No money to buy but that doesn’t stop me looking!

All of a sudden it was 11am and I felt tired again. Went back to bed and set the alarm for 1pm. That lasted about 10 minutes until I realised I wasn’t able to get back to sleep again…eye mask or not…free day or not. Blast and damnation!

A rough plan for the rest of the day formed in my mind….bus to JB HiFi at Leichhardt, bus to my favourite chip shop, bus to city to do some window shopping, walk to optometrist then try and hook up with the lovely James O’Brien for late afternoon drinkies. James has just returned from China and I knew he’d be busting to talk about the holiday.

Well, I got part of the day’s plan right.

After a lovely hot shower, I got ready and caught the bus to Leichhardt. It was immediately apparent that this was one of those perfect-weather days in Sydney. The ones I remembered from the 80s – where the temperature is in the early/mid twenties with a slight breeze blowing and no humidity. In short, simply divine.

JB HiFi didn’t have the Nokia E5 on display but they did have a hot guy working in the I.T. department. Very unusual. 98% of  JB HiFi staff in Sydney are filthy – male or female it doesn’t matter – they look filthy, dirty and unkempt. It really is quite off-putting. However today at JB HiFi Leichhardt, there was a hot dude who looked A1. He made the journey worthwhile.

I couldn’t find anything I wanted so I popped over to the chemist and got some nose drugs. The naughty pseudoephedrine ones that the Government makes you jump through a hoop of fire to buy. Unfortunately they are the only things that work on my clapped out nasal passages!

Then I went and checked out a secondhand book sale at the Town Hall. It was pretty boring but there was another hot guy there so I just walked around checking him out for a while 😉 Shameless, I know!

Back outside, I sat at the bus stop and thought “this is a f***ing amazing Sydney day – a great day to be alive!” And I took a photo of what I was seeing just to record the sunny sky and my sunny mood.

Sunny downtown Leichhardt, Sydney

Pretty soon the bus came and whisked me away to Annandale and my favourite chip shop. I sat outside in a little public table/chairs area that Annandale “village” is famous for. Sunny, warm, twisting branches overhead shading me…I sat there with my food and Diet Coke and really enjoyed the moment.

Another bus journey followed…this time into the city. I saw that Westfield Pitt Street Mall is almost ready to open…well, part of it anyway. Pitt Street Mall is a hive of construction and “finishing off” activity at the moment. With the Mid-City Centre already re-opened, it will be interesting to see if the CBD shopping area can reclaim its former glory as the shopping capital of Sydney.

On the way to the optometrist I popped into Strand JB HiFi. A long queue with one person serving. This is Sydney city and there were people there in suits who obviously didn’t have a lot of time on their hands. The service at JB HiFi generally has been getting worse. I have wondered for a while if they are about to “jump the shark.” They are heading more to a Harvey Norman style of doing business and may end up losing what made them huge in the first place. Anyway…..

The optometrist was a bit of a drawn out affair and I wasn’t that interested in engaging with the guy that much. I just wanted to get it done. He wanted me to spend $32 to take those bloody close up pictures of your eyeballs that they love. Uncomfortable. I thought I better do it so I agreed.

Anyway, more discomfort. The pictures revealed a serious problem with one of the eyes. I’ve been “referred” as they say. And told “I wouldn’t wait too long if I were you.” Dr. Eyes didn’t have much of a bedside manner. Or should that be an eye-ball manner?

I popped next door to choose some new glasses. They obviously want you to have designer specs and kept showing me these bloody awful brown coloured frames that are probably all the rage. I loathed them. I like the frames I have now and want something similar. Something that will be fully paid for by the health fund…you know what I mean? Eventually he gave up and let me order what I wanted. Some cheapies that look pretty much like what I currently wear.

That ordeal over, I wandered around a book shop feeling quite shell shocked. The news about my eye had really blown me away. My natural inclination is to catastrophise any negative news like this. I got straight to – and beyond – worse case scenario in about 5 seconds. I was just a bit zombied-out at the bookshop and was going to buy a Mary Jane Staples book I already own…just because I could buy it here in Sydney and not 17,000km away in London. I’m like that! 😉 Anyway, commonsense prevailed.

Time Conquers All

Puts everything in perspective really

Time to text James and see if he was awake. “Are you awake?” I sms’d. No response. I tried another of his mobile phones. “Are you awake?” No response again. I kept shopping…I was quite enjoying wandering around town without a time limit. Caught a bus (yes, another one!) down to Chinatown and had a look at all the computer and phone shops in the Capital Centre. I love that place! Just window shopping of course 😉

I still hadn’t heard from James…no doubt he was crashed out after the long flight back from China. So I caught a bus to central and miracle of miracles, my express bus home showed up on time. What a great end to a day off.

90% of the way home and who should call? James of course. He’d just woken up and hadn’t received the texts because his phones were charging. We had a good chat but it was too late to turn around and go all the way back into the city. Bad timing, bad luck 😦

After a quick visit to the world’s worst supermarket, I was home and feeling very low key and relaxed. More web surfing, lazing around and such. Now its 8.30pm and, despite daylight saving, the night is well and truly here. If I had some beer in the place, I’d be having one right now. But since I don’t, I won’t 😉

Just realised it has taken most of Kylie’s “Aphrodite” album to write this post 😉 “Looking for an Angel” is playing…freudian? 😉

Tomorrow it’s the weekend and that’s fab too….but you just can’t beat the decadence of a lazy day off from work.

I’ve gone completely Boy Krazy!

Although some may say it all started when I was four…but that’s another issue completely!

Recently, the postman delivered a nice little parcel to my PO Box…the all re-done, re-vamped, bonus-tracked re-release of Boy Krazy’s Stock/Aitken/Waterman album from 1993.

There are some amazing SAW albums being re-released with B-Sides, 12″ versions, unreleased tracks and more. I want just about all of them but finances dictate that I have to be selective at the moment. Yoda already has the Jason Donovan albums while Sonia’s will be next for me. But up first it was Boy Krazy for me.


Boy Krazy


Ironically, I already have this album on CD. I bought the orginal version during a trip to Brisbane some 17 years ago. I already had the single for “That’s What Love Can Do” but nothing else. There was no internet back then – I couldn’t find anything much about them except the song had the classic SAW sound.

At Central Station Records in Brisbane, I came across the CD and had a “What the Fuck!” moment. I immediately stumped up the $30 or $35 or whatever it was. It was the dying days of SAW, in fact it was just SW at that point…and I was desperate for anything they put out.

But there was no chance of me being able to track down 12″ singles or any further releases from Boy Krazy back then. I was in little old Australia and their stuff was coming out around the other side of the world.

I fell in love with three of the tracks very quickly, “That”s What Love Can Do”…

On A Wing and A Prayer…

And finally….how could I NOT fall in love with a title like this…Good Times With Bad Boys!

I loaded up the new CD the other day and, again quite unexpectedly, the album has taken over my brain completely!

There’s a couple of tracks I’d never heard of before and some 12″ mixes that I also did not know existed.  Plus a gorgeous colour booklet is included. It’s like hog heaven for me!

I wondered why I was so completely taken over by this album in the last few days…and it isn’t just about the music. It’s the past darlings…my past… I can’t listen to these songs as just “music” to enjoy. From the first spin on my computer this week, my head was awash with images of 1993. What I was doing in 1993, who I was in 1993 and the whole decline of the SAW empire around that time.

Stock Aitken Waterman had been such a huge influence on me during the late 80s/early 90s it was quite overwhelming. I bought as much of the material they produced as I possibly could (as someone living on the other side of the world in a time when there was no internet and no So much of their work was not released in Australia, it was very frustrating at the time.

It was also frustrating being on the other side of the world and watching the whole SAW thing fall apart. The fights, Mike Stock leaving, then Matt Aitken…the fact that they were being derided and written-off completely by the music press and the industry generally. I took it all personally (as is my way) and it really was sad for me.

So my Boy Krazy Special Edition CD has linked me emotionally right back to 1993, to the time I bought it. 1993 was also the year I did my first overseas trip. I visited London for the first time and fell in love with the city. Yoda and I spent hours walking along Cheapside into the city stopping at every 2nd hand record shop along the way. I bought so much SAW stuff during the two weeks I was in the UK. Much of it from 2nd hand shops and markets. Trying to catch up on the CD singles and videos I never had the chance to buy in Australia. I came back weighed down with this stuff.

A year later, when I visited the UK again, it was all gone. Cheapside had been demolished and none of the shops had any SAW stuff at all. It was as if that whole era in British pop had never existed. So had I not gone in 1993…well, I’m just glad I did.

1993 was the year that Yoda and I, on Day 1 of our overseas trip, walked around the corner from where we were staying and saw PWL Studios. There was a man standing outside – an engineer called Dean – he invited us in and took us for a tour of the studio. He let me touch the Calrec Soundfield microphone (you’d have to be a tragic SAW fan to understand this) and I just about jumped out of my skin. Dean also took us to a basement vault room where the master tapes for every SAW record ever produced were stored. I just about passed out. Had I died right then, it would have been okay.

1993 was also the year we stopped doing ABBA nights at the Flinders Hotel after 6 years. And that turned out to be a very good thing. 1993 was also a time when an ex-boyfriend came over to borrow money and I said no. I didn’t, in fact, have it at that exact point (it was $1,500). But that was a good thing too – the wash up from that incident really clarified to me what a destructive and disastrous relationship I’d had with this person and what a user he was. We’d broken up years earlier but I still felt as if he had a hold on me and I’d never really been able to move on. The result of that visit gave me a bit of closure in a way.

1993 was also the year I won my first manager’s job – for a computer system helpdesk at the organisation I was working for. It involved travelling around Australia for meetings every couple of months. And it was the year I joined the Ansett Golden Wing Club (anyone remember that?) and the Qantas Club (I dumped that membership years ago – it became a waste of money.)

The end of 1993 was when I was diagonised with having sarcoidosis, a bizarre lung disease that can kill. I was put on massive doses of steroids and my weight blew up enormously, it changed my whole body shape and it has never really recovered. Sarcoidosis hasn’t killed me yet but I haven’t had it checked out in years and years…very slack!

And yes, 1993 was the year I came across the Boy Krazy album in an import record shop in Brisbane, Queensland.

So it is pretty clear why listening to the Special Edition re-release of the CD has blown me away this week: 1993 was a pretty monumental year for me and Boy Krazy is bringing it all back.

In the words of Boy Krazy themselves…”Who could ask for anything more?

Lost Saturday

Saturday came and went with a complete pointlessness.

What a waste of a day. 50% of the weekend shot to hell.

I woke up feeling a little out of sorts and looked out the window…it was grey and looked like it might rain. The weather report confirmed the same. My moods and motivations (or lack thereof) seem to be increasingly tied to the weather…and more specifically, the amount of light outside.

Daylight saving finally arrived last weekend and I immediately felt a boost – my productivity in the evening hours increased as the available daylight time increased. This will be very important over the next few months as I prepare and execute a move from this flat to the new one.

So maybe yesterday the grey clouds made the inside of my head grey…I certainly didn’t have any focus or idea of how I should spend the day. So, in fact, I wasted it. Completely.

A shower after 12noon, a 20 minute wait for a bus to Officeworks for a pointless bout of window-type shopping, another bus to the Annandale fish & chip shop followed by another bus to the Broadway Centre. Where I wandered mindlessly around Hardly Normal (Harvey Norman) and Dick Smiths. Didn’t buy anything, just meandered around.

I did manage to touch the new Nokia E5 and compare it – size and looks wise – to my current phone – the Nokia E63. But that was about the only highlight of the expedition.

Suddenly it was 5pm and it occurred to me that I could go to the Midnight Shift for a few late afternoon/early evening bevvies. So further waiting on two buses, a bit of a walk and I was there.

I saw Gen-y radio DJ Tom Ballard, spurned ex-lover of the loathful “comedian” Josh Thomas, walking across Oxford Street eating chips and carrying a handbag. I did a double-take. He looked shorter in real life. Anyway….

I foundy mself at the Midnight Shift at about 5.50pm on a Saturday afternoon. In what can only be described as a sparsely populated God’s Waiting Room. Boy, was it depressing. Yet I didn’t have the motivation or spark to move on to somewhere else. I just kind of sat there in a stupor for a few bevvies and then decided to pull up stumps.

More waiting for 2 buses home…glancing through the Gay press: SX and Sydney Star Observer. An hour or so later I ended up back here surfing the net looking at cameras and netbooks.

Yoda came home from his Peculiar Tart (Petula Clark) concert, we chatted a bit, he went onto the internet in his room and I zoned out in bed in my room. And that was it. 50% of the weekend gone.

Not one of my finest Saturdays.

Not even in the Top 500.

A post from the plane…24 July

Maybe 1/10th of my stuff. (Possibly only 1/20th actually!)

I started out with the intention to send in regular posts from my overseas trip in July/August of this year. I always start out with good intentions. I only got as a far as a writing a post on the Sydney – Seoul part of my journey about the horrible period leading up to going o/s. Having to move after a decade and sorting out the result of being a serial hoarder almost broke me.

Writing on the plane was supposed to be a bit cathartic. It wasn’t. I decided to shutdown the netbook and grab a vodka & tonic and veg out. Pretty much what I do every time I have to do longhaul flights. Anyway, here is a post I wrote on 24 July this year up in the air…

“It’s about an hour and twenty minutes into the flight and I’m just starting to relax a bit. The last couple of months have been amongst the most stressful of my life. All precipitated by the owner of the flat I rent(ed) and his need to sell the place.

One simple phone call from the real estate agent started a crazy roller coaster ride which continues to this day. Never has the phrase “I need a holiday!” been more apt. The idea to go to Stockholm for Pride week originated months ago but the holiday now seems like a last-minute circuit breaker than anything else.

Moving house is supposed to be one of the top life-stressing events but the stress is magnified when you’re a massive hoarder like I am. And when your solution to cleaning up is to throw miscellaneous crap into plastic crates, you end up with a massive amount of crates after a decade. And a massive amount of crap that needs to be sorted and culled.

Add to that a storage centre unit full of stuff that was quite relevant 14 years ago but is now outdated, outmoded and mostly falls into the category of “Why the hell did I keep that? What the hell was I thinking?”

Into this mix you can throw the fact that rents around my area have risen massively since I moved in a decade ago. And they continue to rise. Paying almost half my salary to rent a bog standard 1 or 2 bedroom flat – with the distinct possibility of a further increase in rent every six months – did not seem a realistic option. The Sydney rental market is completely insane.

Which is how I ended up sleeping on an inflatable “camp bed” in Yoda’s second bedroom (formerly his office until I showed up). The room I am sleeping in is packed full of crates of my stuff – a Stonehenge of storage crates if you like. There’s another storage centre with a unit that contains about 60 moving boxes and plastic crates of my stuff. And a separate unit that has bookcases, filing cabinets and so on.

I need to point out that this is what remains after weeks of severely sorting and culling my stuff. James and Yoda have been helping me sort the wheat from the chaff. Although at times it felt like sorting deckchairs on the Titanic as it was sinking. Without their help I would be well and truly sunk by now – and that isn’t a joke.

Over the last month we have organised 3 council clean ups, Salvation Army and Smith Family collections and even a last minute “Cheapest Load of Rubbish” visit to get rid of 25 bags of rubbish that wouldn’t fit into the – already overflowing with my refuse – bins at the back of my former block of flats.

It took two separate removalist moves over the space of a week as well as Grant driving a rented ute with a cage two facilitate the exit of JudgeG from his HQ of a decade. Not to mention a number of walking trips from the flat to Grant’s place using a hand trolley packed with…well, more of my stuff.

The whole thing seemed a bridge too far for me at times. I held it together mostly but did break down and have a good cry a few times during the final days. The crying should have been cathartic but it wasn’t. It didn’t make the move go away – it just delayed the torture for a few minutes each time. I’ve heard there are worse hoarders than me but, after the last month and a half, I doubt James & Yoda would believe that 😉

While all this was happening, Yoda and I went to an open inspection of a flat that we both really liked and could imagine living in. We just went for a sticky beak because we were around when the building went up years ago and wanted to see inside. Who came up with the idea “why don’t we see if we could get a loan and buy it?” Me? Yoda? Both?

The idea would have stopped right there – at the pie-in-the-sky stage – if someone had told us what a nightmare we were letting ourselves in for. Yoda had done this once before – almost two decades ago – and it seemed a very linear, sensible – if somewhat cumbersome – process back then.

Our experience over the last 6 weeks has been nothing like that. It has been one drama after another, one setback after another. That old bank advert where the customer is expected to jump through a hoop of fire – think that and double it. Even right down to the real estate agent quitting his job and not telling us right at the point we were to make an offer on the place. He just disappeared without trace – no messages or emails acknowledged or returned.

I’d like to tell you about the specific structural problems in the building we’re trying to buy into but it would cause me to cry – or to jump out of this very lovely plane. The building reports just remind me of that horrible 80s movie “The Money Pit” which I only saw on the insistence of one of my ex-boyfs. He ended up hating it too.

In beginning this process I realised we’d be caught in the middle of mortgage brokers, inspection companies, lawyers, real estate agents and banks. I just assumed it might all be a bit more sensible and streamlined. After all, people do it all the time, don’t they?

As at 2pm yesterday, Yoda and I were still at the lawyers trying to clean up shit. I was supposed to be on a “day off” getting ready for my trip. No such luck – that had to wait until last night. I finished some time around 1 or 2am. I had to be up at 4.45am. And I didn’t sleep well for those few hours – too much on my mind. So, with effectively 90 minutes sleep, I was up again to get ready for this plane trip.

Which brings me right back to the beginning of this post. Hoping to begin a mental detox program so that I can face a resumption of the ongoing saga of where to live. And yet another possible move.


There’s soooo much more to tell – and I remember every last detail. But right now I need to do something else…attract the hostess’ attention…

“Excuse me, another vodka & tonic please!”

The Dugites….Waiting

Sometimes I just have to face up to it…I don’t agree with a lot of people a lot of the time. Rather than wimp out and change my opinion to something more “acceptable”, I’d rather just be true to myself.

And such is the case with this song. The Dugites “Waiting” (seen below from 1981). When it came out it just blew my mind. It should have sold a gazillion, bazillion copies. But did it? No. It wasn’t even a particularly big local hit. So very sad.

Maybe I’m just turning into a “Quentin Crisp” type person? Without the makeup, of course.

Last night I saw “An Englishman In New York” at the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardis Gras Film Festival closing night. It was the follow up to the mega-acclaimed “Naked Civil Servant” from the 70s.

I absolutely loved “An Englishman In New York.” I loved the fact that it didn’t try to be arty-farty and simply told Quentin Crisp’s story as it was. I loved the fact that John Hurt reprised the role he first did over three decades ago – and was even better at it this time around!

I loved the fact that, as someone who was a bit of a Quentin Crisp fan, it gave me knowledge and understanding of what happened in the post-Naked Civil Servant part of his life. I loved the fact that it gave me an insight into why he was what he was, why he thought the way he thought. It gave me some closure on Quentin Crisp and for that I’m very grateful.

The acting all around was superb. I loved the movie for it’s simplicity and linear nature. But those very things seem to be a big part of the reason why it has been dissed or dismissed by some critics and movie fans. From the research I did last night, there seems to be a feeling that “An Englishman In New York” is pretty average. I couldn’t disagree more.

And if I’m in a discussion about it with people, I won’t nod my head, look down, go “mmm, mmm” and back away from stating my opinion. Nor would I expect the people I am talking to do the same. A bit of social lubrication is always nice to help smooth relations and situations between people. But perhaps, like Quentin Crisp, I want to be authentic and true to myself in conversations and dealings with friends, family and people I meet.

It does tend to make me the odd man out a lot of the time. It does tend to cause friction from time to time. But I wonder what the alternative is for me? Taking it up the arse and agreeing with everything I disagree with just to smooth things along? I’d rather a robust discussion between parties that might have to end with “agreeing to disagree” or “totally disagreeing with your opinion but respecting your right to express it.” I prefer a truer, open and honest communication between people. I think loving a good argument is a good thing. I love to have a big slagfest with friends and then have a laugh about it with them later.

See, “An Englishman In New York”, has got me thinking about all this stuff overnight. Quentin was a true original and I think he was a particularly ballsy guy – even if he, himself didn’t think that.

The movie also makes some very important points about discrimination within the Gay community. In some ways, the Gay community has become it’s own worst oppressor.

I am going to order the movie on DVD. I do want to have it in my collection. And if you disagree, well, screw you buddy! 😉