fj: (phkl)
What always bothered me about "Mommie Dearest" was just how bad the movie was at portraying its subject, completely undermining its credibility. Joan Crawford was terrible actress, but she knew what the fuck she was doing in front of a camera, and she wasn't nearly as decrepit in the early years as the movie tries to make us think.

So of course, I fired up bit torrent to finally make my point. I have a Mac after all, this shit is easy now, and actually was loads and loads and loads of fun to do, snipping here, titling there... my first YouTube video is the Old School Gayest thing ever done, even more than the PHKL considering 10 year old gorls won't like this:

I am really crossing off the items off my To Do list on Hiveminder: TST.com, this, financial stuff, portfolio, getting a proper chair (only 4 more weeks, yay!). At the bottom, still, that entry: Get Job. It stares at me.

Recognition

Oct. 9th, 2008 11:43 pm
fj: (bqw)
I would like to thank[livejournal.com profile] bobaloo for all his tireless work on the "No on Proposition 8" campaign in California.

I am angry and heartsick at the prospects of yet another set of my friends' marriages being invalidated. I know some went in thinking it was "Mostly just a piece of paper", but having attended my number of weddings and having thought a lot about marriage, I know that actually standing up there is transformative, that getting that paperwork done and the changes that follow from it actually do make you think of your relationship in a new way, that it is, still, a hit to the brain of "wow, I never though in my closeted kid days we would get there. That this would happen. That we'd be just as real."

I can't stand the thought of that being taken away. Not there, not in the place I was so happy. I can't contemplate that so many people living among my friends would want to take it away from them.

I am not allowed to donate as a foreign national, as I found out, so I haven't. Oddly, it turns out that [livejournal.com profile] pinkfish is donating more, and at the same time my share of the current bills for The Loft has gone up by the same amount; it is very strange how that works. Yeah, I am still unemployed, but I know I will work again and this money is necessary now. Donate.



If you too want to donate some time in the LA area, get in touch with Bob. He is overworked, and needs volunteers. You don't even need to call people, I believe.

Restore

Sep. 6th, 2008 01:41 pm
fj: (bqw)
Well, I have to face facts that for some reason the one superhero comic I owned and kept has not made it through the move. It was the issue of Alphaflight in which the first major Marvel hero comes out (see icon). I always wanted it since I had read of the event. When I first came to the US I asked a friend if she could ask the guy she was dating, who worked at a comic book store, to buy me one and I'd pay him back. Next time I saw her she gave me the issue and told me it was a gift. I always wanted to frame it or display it somehow but I never had the right place. I simply just liked knowing it was there.

Any recommendations on a mail-order place?

Sunday

Aug. 18th, 2008 03:15 pm
fj: (UK)
So Friday [livejournal.com profile] iejw tells me that I need to go to Soho Pride on Sunday.
--"So is that just another so desperately needed excuse for gay British men to stand around and drink," I said thinking about what Soho was like after London pride, "but now by day, required because they can only do that 7 nights a week?" Why yes it was.

So I took 45 minutes to choose which tanktop to wear -- I know what my assets are: furry shoulders -- and hopped on the bus that takes me to the center of town in 20 minutes. I did walk around in between all the London gays standing in tight clusters of friends with plastic family-sized cups of beer and checked out the scene. Met up with [livejournal.com profile] iejw in his kelly green cardigan and golden shoes and big ass camera around his neck, whose first words after hi was the subtle question, while pointing at my face, of "Is that a cold sore?", complete with making motions of going to touch it. (No, it was an ingrown hair near my lip gone horribly awry that was now healing) He was with his rugby friends who seemed as interested as always in talking to me, so when after some chat Ian left to greet other friends, I walked away to look at the festivities over a number of blocks. Soho Square itself, a street or so away from where I had started, is a small park surrounded by a big iron fence, and of the three stages on in the streets, the best music was in there. So was the line snaking around two sides of the square, which looked like it would take an hour to get in, just like it did a few weeks ago in the festivities after London Pride. I do not get street festivals, supposedly democratic shared celebrations, where the actual party part is made exclusive and regulated. Ok, so because of the iron fence that square has limited capacity, but you know, maybe that is a hint that it is not the best area for the dance stage then.

So I went back to Comptons and got myself a family-sized cup of diet coke, and stood in the street taking in all the people clumped in groups knowing each-other, not seeing the one guy I know who would be at this kind of thing and is always fun, and letting my mind wander about what kind of volunteering opportunities I want to join in the next few months. Obviously helplines, my forte, is out, with my US accent in this country where they kind of look down on that. Maybe something with animals. Doggies. And then I see this guy, red tanktop, some fur underneath, cup of Guinness, bright blue eyes, really kinda hot, who is just standing there like me, not speaking or knowing anyone. He looks at the gray sky and I'm tried of nothing happening and I step up to him and go "You think it's gonna rain?" Obviously the only way something would happen is if I did something.

And I then have the most fascinating conversation for the next 4 hours. He's South African. Jo'burgs gay life is socially about the size of a postage stamp. He is part of the bear scene there but wonders why he gets called 'otter' in other countries. --"I guess the rampant global obesity crisis has not hit South Africa yet? It's kinda skewed the norms of who is what animal" is my answer. He grew up in a nature reserve in Zimbabwe. He throws off Kinsey 6 musclebear visual and movement cues, but he's actually a Kinsey 3 who had a phone call last night the plus sign on the stick means he is going to be a daddy -- just as he is planning to sell his farm to live with his male partner in Australia. We actually have a lot of work overlap (usability vs industrial cultural consultant). His best mate got killed by a crocodile. It just went on and on, and it seemed that I was as interesting tot alk to to him as he was to me, and that only as the men around us progressively got drunker we made new connections. Then his mate, Brian, a former pro tennis player and now costume jewelry designer who lives outside London, joined us, and I started a running gag about eating pie which ended up with us exchanging numbers. Richard is off to Madrid and then back to South Africa, but I may have a pie-eating date with Brian when he has to be in London again for work.

This was kinda good.
fj: (Default)

The Only Significant Police Presence
"The Only Significant Police Presence", Nokia N73, London, 2008



I totally shot this for [livejournal.com profile] bullneck, but when I cropped it I suddenly realized this is not a bad pic in itself.

And yes, there was a contingent of Pride protesters, corralled together and kept a street-width away by the only large contingent of these men and women in fluorescent yellow. I blew kisses at the thumpers as I walked by.

My god I am pandering to my readers! )
fj: (Default)

Someone Is Writing A Letter Of Complaint As We Speak
"Someone Is Writing A Letter Of Complaint As We Speak", Nokia N73, London, 2008

fj: (bqw)
We're all so over Pride. Can't commit to going, we have been going so often. We're all busy, we don't know which party we will go to, and if you have seen one parade you have seen them all really. I mean, again, year after year. We'll see. You going? Oh maybe, well, I don't think so.

Not me. I love Pride. I love the parades. I think marching is even better than just watching them, but if I have no-one to march with I love to just watch. I'll remember what it was like to march through a single row of people just gawking, or a dead stretch, and I'll instead clap and do my best to make it fun to be a marcher. "Yay Unitarians!" "Yay Lowell High GSA!" "Yay Methodists!" "Yay random drag queen!" "Honey I love the shoes!" "Yay GLBT bankers!"

And of course in a new city I had to watch the parade. So I parked myself right accoss from Selfridges, in London's busiest shopping street, now cordoned off, and got ready. And got peckish because I was early. Turns out I was in front of a Starbucks (which had the biggest contingent of barristas than I have ever seen working in a Sbucks, slamming through orders like an assembly line) and found myself for the first time ever watching a Pride parade, not in oppressive humidity, not being baked away in desert sun, but on a clear cool summer day with sanwiches and a light frappe in my hand, passing time sitting on a bus stop bench waiting for it to start. And a lovely parade it was.

Not as high in church groups as say a Boston parade, and of course no floats repeating key scenes of Mommy Dearest like in LA, but large contingents of "Yay massive amounts of glbt policemen! Yay gay rugby players! Yay glbt fire-department volunteers hey is that 'Dirty Dan'? Yay glbt British Airways in their smart uniforms I love you but could you please make the flight to Düsseldorf be on time more?" And only three bar floats or so. And very few people in leather, which sucks, because that is so the whole point. And everyone liked being clapped and cheered on.

It all ended in Trafalgar square, where I also went to, and realized I'd be wandering around knowing no-one, without a designated spot where, after years of habits, all my friends would converge on because I neither have the large group of friends yet or the history of habits, until I noticed two heavily facially-pierced leatherdudes entranced by my furry shoulders (Yes, you can see the burntan-lines of my tanktop today). So I went up to meet them because I am always down with hanging with the freaks.This was fun for a couple of hours and then I decided to move on to Soho where, I was told, everyone would be out in the street drinking all day and partying around. The novel, specific-to-Pride, part of that sentence in the UK is that they would be out in the street.

Where of course, you know, I also wouldn't know anyone and would just wander to get a feeling for my first year of Pride in London, except that I ran into Cristopher, someone I actually had met from online, and we met some new friends, and everyone was petting my back and then asking each-other if they were going to Megawoof that night -- the party for the Big, the Roided, and especially the Furry -- and of course everyone else was all "Oh I don't know, I am so tired, I have been before..." and I just said I was going. Which, after I had gone home and ate and lounged, I did. And then left early at 2AM after having seen Christopher and danced very suggestively with him, as with one random hot stranger who was into it, with some stares in the beginning from these stuck-up British musclebear homos who weren't getting into the spirit of things because their drugs obviously hadn't kicked in yet. And even then; I have never seen a room with so much wall-to-wall dancing flesh and so little actual contact. Maybe I left too early after having danced near non-stop for three hours. Maybe that was because I was tired, or maybe because on some level those frigid (non-)fuckers were annoying me.

Today I dragged myself out of bed to make it to Kensington in time to meet up for brunch with Reeta, a former Disney Mobile colleague who is visiting, who after brunch (Eggs! Pancakes!) met up with two other friends back in Soho in a notorious pastry shop (More eggs! Salmon! Hot chocolate so rich I had to slurp it spoon by spoon! Cake! Other people's cake they weren't finishing!) and then went to a pub near Picadilly to watch Wimbledon (Water! My god, please, water, nothing else!) Reeta has only seen me eat the lunches i brought into work, all steamed veggies and chicken, so she had no idea I actually could Eat, and was a little stunned. I decided not to tell her any food stories; in between processing the last months of DM, mothers dying, subsequent dead-mother jokes, and gossiping about dating experiences in the UK, we already went through enough details so intimate we can never have a normal professional relationship again anyway.



Last week in Ddorf tomorrow. I have promised myself I will write an entry on how it all actually was. I know [livejournal.com profile] susandennis wants details, and these random twitter snippets just will not do.
fj: (Default)
Standing across Sir McKellan. Every float stops to say hi to him.

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fj: (Default)
Standing across from Selfridges. Bring on the parade.

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fj: (phkl)
You know, I actually do have developed musical tastes in pop. And I have never watched a single episode of The Laguna Hills of County. But after reading about Heidi Montag's stupid, and stupidly successful, exploits of self-promotion on Dlisted, I kinda excitedly grab my headphones every time the editor posts another link to one of her songs.

Because they are such Awesomely Well Made Awesomely Bad Pop. The central part of a pop song, the voice, is so useless in Montag's case that every trick is pulled out to make it, well, we can't call it 'work', so let's call it 'lounge around successfully'. Doubling, tripling, pitch correction so blatant it goes into pure robo-voice territory, quadrupling that robo-voice as backing vocals again, rip-off Timbaland productions, and lyrics so awesomely bad the whole thing is trying to pass off being a dumb falling-over drunk ready to go get banged by some frat douche as a sexy almost-mystically sensual mature experience.

I listen to it on repaeat three times, my mouth hanging open some production team would try to sell something that is the music equivalent of an overproduced SNL skit about Britney for reals. Yet they do.

I'm in love. Someone please tell me Fashion is being remixed for a Homo Shirtless Streetfair Dance Party.
fj: (Default)
Decades of Gay Advancement to get us over Our Damage pays off: no adoring throngs of Homos for Amy Winehouse like for Judy, Edith, Maria C.

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fj: (Default)
is in Terminal 5. Flight canceled. Rebook flight delayed. So browsing profile on gay.com while chatting.

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fj: (Default)
Watching Eurovision. In Europe! With a roomful of homos!

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fj: (bqw)
At 18, I entered a committed relationship that lasted 3.5 years.

At 23, I entered a committed relationship that lasted 13 years. When our 8-year anniversary rolled around, [livejournal.com profile] pinkfish's mother put an announcement in the family Christmas newsletter because we had outlasted the average straight marriage. Yeah, we had our own rules, but we made it work for a damn long time.

20-something gays marrying in Boston these days, coming to California? I ain't gonna write stuff like "stupid kids are gonna regret that". I'd rather share my experiences about how everyone has to create their own relationship that works. Transform the legal structure of marriage into what you need it.
fj: (bqw)
I decided to take the 10.50 AM to London tomorrow. I think converting today´s and Monday´s trips into vouchers to use on later dates would be too much trouble.

Meanwhile, I am wondering if I am ready for wedding cake, and everything that comes with it, every month again for a year. Eh, I am too far this time. (But I am sure two people in Santa Monica are pulling corsets out of a closet right now. Again.)

I still beleive same-sex couples getting married is an inherently subversive act. I fully agree with conservative people´s fears it will change the insitution, and I rejoice because I so hope it does. And every one of you who steps forward together to declare your love in public, before and inside the fabric of the law, I wish you a long string of the most beautiful days of your lives.

And for gawds sakes, invest in some Damn Good Cake.
fj: (Default)
I have moved too much to have a functioning gaydar.

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fj: (bqw)
While we can all debate about presidential candidates, the platform we are doing it on, LJ, is getting disturbingly unstable. With seemingly added fun facts of of LJ management not communicating with LJ almost at all.

That paid advertisements for 'curing' homosexuality or autism are now sometimes appearing next to the writings of glbt or aspergers bloggers who opted for a free journal is bad enough, but the censoring of non-wholesome popular LJ interests is disturbing -- and it was no mistake. No comment even made on it either.

Best info collected in [livejournal.com profile] hrafn.





LiveJournal Content Strike, Friday, March 21, midnight to midnight GMT.

No posts. No comments. No content.
fj: (Hector The Protector)
Morning funny: following a link (still don't know why [livejournal.com profile] jpeace sent it) to what turns out to be the blog of a porn actor with the complaint that when he goes out, not to friends' places but out into the nightlife, he gets seen as a piece of meat. 1) Lucky you, shut up 2) Unintended consequences much?

Also, it turns out I can post a link to RMS dancingget my links to the ACLU supporting public sex wrong and get no comments on it.

And everyone is travelling this weekend: Fiesta, MAL, Arisia, Atlantis Cruise. (Edit: ) Sundance
fj: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: The suit doesn't fit, the pants don't fit, the t-shirt is frayed, the hair is limp, he has neckbeard, he looks hung over, and he's sunburnt.  That queen had a hard weekend. HOT.
 
  http://community.livejournal.com/ohnotheydidnt/17641841.html
[livejournal.com profile] fj: like he's dressed by H&M
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: hush. i'm dressed by H&M.
[livejournal.com profile] fj: you have an H&M body
[livejournal.com profile] fj: and are not on a red carpet
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: What, doesn't everyone have a 28 inch waist?  *squints, swirls martini*
[livejournal.com profile] fj : hate
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: *flips drink in your face*
[livejournal.com profile] fj: well, you are entitled to that having a 28" waist
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: My mirror fell off my door last night. I think it's trying to tell me I'm too hot for it and need to get a bigger one.
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: It's a consolation prize for looking like I have chronic wasting.
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: Then again I think most of that is simply from sitting at a chair 29 hours a day.
[livejournal.com profile] fj: most people I know who sit on a chair 29 hours a day do not have 28" waists. They have double
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: Well that's them. Go see if COBRA covers Adderol.
[livejournal.com profile] fj: only if I find a medical (i.e. non-cosmetic) reason
[livejournal.com profile] fj: I'd rather get sustenon prescribed, but that would be even less liekly
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: You're incapable of being loved while you're fat. If that's not a medical disability, what is?
[livejournal.com profile] fj: oh god you are so right
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: Talking with you is making me a worse person.
[livejournal.com profile] fj: Biggest. Compliment. Ever. Usually I get the opposite
fj: (bqw)
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: Hugely entertaining bit of brain candy. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q32_G215bb0
[livejournal.com profile] fj: I am reognizing a disturbing amount of video
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: I like it because it has lots of colors.
[livejournal.com profile] fj: I like it because I am gay
[livejournal.com profile] fj: as fuck
[livejournal.com profile] jpeace: You are!

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