Friday mumblings

It's a busy line-up this weekend:

There's a smashing 3rd place play off against a bunch of Spaniards. I believe Wimbledon is on the go, which is also smashing I'm told...

I have a dinner this evening with one of CV's old school buddies and his partner of ten years... I'm really looking forward to that - ;0)!


Then there's my future-sister-in-law's engagement party (ring in with strains of Zorba the Greek, whilst dodging breaking crockery and back light with Uzo). Whoop-whoop! or is that Opah!! Anywayy, what would mumbling on this Friday be without mentioning Michael Jackson, the thrilling moon walker who re-shaped pop, by crossing over between black and white (musically and otherwise) in the late seventies and early eighties...


I was browsing the worlds news channels gauging 'the wires' on the passing of MJ. I could lay on a homage - but there are plenty of obituaries already doing the rounds. What can I say other than: Sheesh - he was ONLY 50!!! His music is definitely a part of the soundtrack to my life. And, me thinks in many ways he really was a tortured soul. RIP-MJ.


And whilst bumbling through those sites I found this sight about a guy who does art (at £1000 a pop mind you) on egg cartons..... It really is amazing. If anyone knows this artist personally, please let him know I have a room that still needs an egg carton treatment. I'll supply the cartons...

And on that wacky note. I bid thee a happy (and gay if you're that way inclined) weekend!


Ciao4Now

PS - my goodness, blogging's much easier when you're playing a hyperlinking continuity writer... lol!

a cause to pause

My friends mother passed away yesterday. It was sudden and somewhat unexpected and their grief is palpable.

One of their Facebook status updates was: 'never again is such a long time'. It's an eloquent expression of the vacuum her mothers passing will leave. I've never felt that kind of vacuum before - and as I read her status update for the first time I felt deeply for her in her time of loss. I've been given cause to pause.

Today, I'm saddened for those who have just lost someone near and dear. Although I never met her, I'm deeply aware that she must have been a remarkable mother. I know this, because my friends all seem to express themselves in a way that is so genuine; from the heart. And when they smile, you can see something in their eyes - a 'goodness' in their souls.

It seems to me, that it is only through the deep love of a parent, that these qualities can emerge so consistently in so many people all at once. And even though she is gone today - her legacy of love will be felt through them and passed onto their children and their children's children.

I woke up this morning and was distracted from the small things I'm sweating. When my own mortality rises like a spectre of the future before me, I'm mindful of how brief our time here is in the grand scheme of things. I can't help but wonder where I will be and what I will have achieved when I go? Will I have found my dream and lived it?

And then I must ask, does any of that matter? What good is it to have lived the dream or scaled seemingly insurmountable heights to achieve 'greatness'?

Surely it is that the lives of those we've touched are the better for it? Surely we have not lived unless we have truly loved and been loved. It's those connections of love that have the most meaning for those who are left behind.

If that is the mark of a life well lived, then it seems hers was: A life well lived.

"There's a big difference between being gay and being a fag"

With roughly a week remaining before a 40th anniversary I didn't know too much about until a few weeks ago, I thought it fitting to write on something that I've been mulling over. This post was first conceived on 29 May, 2009 after an acquaintance posted a status update that was 'a last straw' of sorts....

I've never really felt truly exposed to rampant homophobia before. You know the kind that might make the news because a violent assault and/or a gang rape left the victim, at the very least, severely traumatised but often comatose or dead. I've heard of these things but tend; shall we say; to 'shelve' them with all the other bad stuff that goes on around us.

I live in a country ridden by some extremely violent and senseless crimes and so, for me, acts of pure hatred tend to get lumped together. Make no mistake though, gay bashing, when it is reported results in the same gut wrenching reaction as when I hear about babies being raped and murdered. To date though, they remain in some sort of disconnected otherworld - because I have never been directly affected by such violence.

There are many levels of homophobia, in the same way there are many levels of sexism, racism and other forms of bigoted thinking.

I've recently been becoming more aware of my gay self within a 'straight' society. And whilst I do prefer to think of myself first as human rather than gay, I am never the less in a state of heightened awareness of my differentness within it. Which gets me to the kernel incident that got me into this post:

When Manchester United recently lost the UEFA Champions League. The aforementioned acquaintance posted a Facebook status update: "...Barcelona is a bunch of fags and we probably lost because of the distraction of them touching our boys' ........"

I saw this and was compelled to comment: "hmmm.... I prefer to call 'em Dirty Spaniards?"

Her reply was a quick apology including: "there's a big difference between being gay and being a fag", which has now become the title of this post.

I don't mean to pick on her directly. This is not the first time I've heard this kind of argument.

I was recently floored when straight counterpart used the word faggot to describe a florist we know.

As with this or many other offensive words for all manner of people, most would just apologise and retract the statement - knowing they've crossed that line of political correctness. Fortunately, I was able to gain some insight because of our relationship and that I was able to turn my battle brain off. I had to question his thinking.

His response was astounding: "I've got no problem with you and gays like you, but I've got a problem with faggots!"

"WTF!!", I thought - not quite aloud. I was angered by what he said. But reining in my emotions, I retorted, "But I am a 'faggot'. I may not be the most effeminate gay guys around, but - I'm still very much a gay man." My emotions now momentarily shelved, I requested more insight.

He responded along the lines: "You're still like, a man. Fags are those queeny limp wristed types... It's like they're putting on a show or something. They weren't all faggoty before they came out - but now they running around like men who wanna be women?" His logic was there is a difference between being gay and being a faggot!

Even though I was still offended, I had to stand down as I contemplated his response.

We call carry prejudices. I know I do - even though I fight them. Just how pervasive is this type of thinking? In this scenario, is what was said 'homophobia' at all? Is it bare faced bigotry? Or is it an essentially 'harmless' expression about a stereotype.

For those who have met me, I think you'll know that I generally did not relate well to particularly effeminate men. That's changed somewhat since I've met some truly fabulous but genuine individuals. I won't lie though, in my core I just can't reconcile extreme femininity and transgerderism within myself.

I discussed this with CV the other day, because I didn't know how to express the multitude of emotions I was feeling about this. As the discussion evolved, it became clear to me. To be uncomfortable with people we don't fully understand is a totally human reaction and it should be embraced. It's how we respond to that discomfort and carry it into our words and actions that draws the fine lines between bigotry and tolerance.

My 'battle' as a gay men, is for people to relate to my humanity - and hopefully in some small change the way people see us. To see past the stereo types. I enjoy many human rights that people like me in more 'advanced' democracies do not enjoy. But although we're have many legal equalities does not mean we are accepted as equals.

My experiences and conversations clearly show me we have a long way to go to rid our world of homophobia and other forms of bigotry. Sadly, I think the gods honest truth is we'll never get rid of all of it. But each of us must own up to our prejudices. In some way we must stand up and account for them. I know I need work towards to a better understanding of everyone I feel different from, not through evasion or pretence, but through staring those differences in the face and making a conscious decision to break free of the misconceptions that feed our bigotry.

And so, as I celebrate and commemorate the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots and the birth of the modern PRIDE movement, I have found my rally cry:

"I am human. I am man. I am gay and I am proud of all of me. Know me as a person, before you put your labels on me! And I shall do the same for you."

Ciao4Now

A scholar and a gentleman..

In a follow up to yesterdays musings on fame and celebrity, I must just say that either Mr Van Der Ruit is a very good actor or he is a genuinely funny and very down to earth guy.

He is of course an actor, but our interaction with him last night was totally enjoyable. H's funny, and tweaked our interest with some very 'saucy' tidbits of plans for Spud 4 and the forthcoming movie.

In a few respects it felt like a 'school reunion' or sort, 'cause almost every guy there was seemingly a high powered professional from one or other prestigious boys school.

Speaking of reunions - have a look over at Ramblers latest posting on reunions. Have a great weekend everybody!!! I've got a hectic one lined up - lots of birthday's all around..

Ciao4Now

It's joyful, learning to fly! Or is slumming with the stars really for the birds?

In retrospect, joyful would be too strong a verb - but it does make for a title that titillates... or am I deluding myself? Hehehe.


Tonight's a big night for me and CV. We're off to have dinner with that most wonderful of local wordsmiths, John Van Der Ruit - He of SPUD fame. I've read both instalments and am now in a queue to read the forthcoming release - 'Learning to fly'




This excitement is rather inexplicable though. You see, I'm not prone to staring at stars, the celebrity type, not the astrological ones - of course. I appreciate that the artistes have worked very hard to perfect their craft. This is after all why we pay money to see them on our big screens or small screens or on stages or pop their recordings into our CD players and i-pods or loose ourselves in their captivating prose.


Once upon a time, I lunched with the former 'Kyle' of Isigingo and found it absolutely fascinating how random people would stop and stare or ask for autographs or the latest plot twists in store. It turns out he had more personal problems than anyone could hope for in one lifetime and his star was about to flicker out and die.


And then I vividly recall visiting a friend who was working at a salon in Melrose Arch one day and I ended up making small talk with a certain, if I recall correctly, Vanessa. As small talk goes, I don't fare all that well, but trying valiantly I innocently asked her, 'What is it that you do?'


She looked momentarily perplexed, amazed even as she primly drew herself aback and raised her palm softly to her chest: 'I'm Miss South Africa.'


Determined to remain un-phased, I said, "Oh that's nice. I'm an events promoter. How's being Miss S.A been for you?"


In any event, my point is - at the end of the day, they also have to sleep and (to be far more polite than I normally would be) use the bathroom. I don't get giving them the inflated adoration. It just doesn't make much sense.


I know they've worked incredibly hard to achieve perfection in their craft. I applaud their achievements. But then again - so do many of us work hard. Sometimes, I think even harder. All we get at best though, is the adoration of our little ones and the cheers and support of our spouses, family and friends.


I will never fully get why people swoon over stars. Hmm - come to think of it, I don't think I get celebrity culture at all.


I'm sure Mr Van Der Ruit is a thoroughly nice fellow. CV and I may just pick up a thing or two about successful writing - or maybe we'll pick up absolutely nothing. Either way - I think I'll be pleased if he carries himself across as just a human being like me and you and not a pompous ass - like some stars apparently can be. Truthfully though, never having been to this restaurant before, most of all, I hope the food and wine and other company are good.


CIAO4Now

knowing me... a-ha?

Someone near and very dear asked me why I've not been blogging...

The truth is, I can't really be sure. I'm in a funny place in my head at the moment and feeling kind of um... restless, like I'm not fulfilling something I'm meant to be doing. It may pass and writing about it may add some clarity to the matter... for me as much as you. And before anyone sees some sort of drama on the cards, let me move swiftly to put everything into its place.

I have been in with CV for just over a year now and the whole experience has been illuminating in so many ways, I can't even begin to describe. I could so easily get gushy right now, but I shant - because there's been other sides to knowing him and that's what today's post is all about.

Let's tentatively call the side I'm now referring to as 'the activist'. 'The activist' has changed my understanding of being a gay man. His experiences with the ex-gay ministry as laid bare in many a personal conversation, quite a bit of writing in his blog, as well as some of his personal diaries has moved me to try to understand myself better. This is not to say I previously didn't have a fair grasp of who I am. But, in my openly gay but somewhat 'closeted' recent past, I was all about work. Blooms and beats dominated just about everything I did... so much so there was not much time for anything in between.

This past year has seen me blossom in a way that was totally unexpected. Argh! I hate to use flowery terms - but that's what come off the fingertips, so I'll stick with it. My exposure to the 'activist' has partly driven my own recent explorations.

So I've been reading quite a bit. You may or may not have read my recent post on gay superheroes. That required tons of reading.

And then of course there's CV's award winning blog and other blogs on the gay experience.

I've reading 'The Velvet Rage' by Alan Downs. It's made me emotional and sometimes angry. It's revealing without being particularly instructive or helpful (so far). But it has rapidly changed the way I perceive myself and most other gay men. I won't recommend it yet - the jury is still out for me.

Knowing 'the activist' got me reading up even more on the story of Harvey MILK, slamming PRIDE - and then thinking about it a little bit more. Undertaking researching and ultimately deepening my understanding of the history of the gay rights movements (and the importance of Drag queens) and where gay rights are going now.

It's also lead to debating in sometimes very lively discussions gay marriage, being publicly gay and changing societal norms.

And I've been... consuming ('cause watching would be far too soft a verb) the 1st season of the US version of Queer as Folk. Although it was launched in 2000 and has become somewhat of a cult classic among gay men the world over, I couldn't watch it on my Zone 2 DVD system. The problem's been solved recently thanks to the suggestion of one of my many 'techno whizz' friends. It's fascinating. I totally relate to some aspects and can't believe others. It's a gritty candid drama about gay men and I think it's brilliant. There's four seasons to go after this. At least I'll have all of them on hand when I want to tuck into the next batch.

And finally - linking my recently awoken passion for reading, writing, the drama of the comic book hero and QAF (there's a comic book link developing), I just bought a few pencils and eraser to take up something I've not done seriously since high school... drawing.

I wanted to become a designer once upon a time. And a musician. And an author. And an entrepreneur. And a radio presenter using my influence to make positive changes (but not a politician - because I'm a lousy liar). And a priest (yes - even a priest).

Which brings me right back to the beginning again. I'm in a funny place in my head at the moment still restless. I can't shake the feeling that I'm not fulfilling something "greater", that I'm meant to be doing.

Ok, so it hasn't passed by writing about and I can't claim any further clarity on the matter... Maybe I should blog more frequently to express the things I feel I need to. Maybe, that's the way we change the world - one post, drawing and song at a time.

Ciao4Now