Sunday, August 31, 2003
PERFORMANCE AND RESPONSIBILITY #1.
These two words have been cropping up quite a lot lately - and particularly this week. I wielded Performance and Responsibility both at class to impress upon my new students (who arrived in London this week) an appropriate framework for study. I tried as hard as I could to sound authoritative and crack the disciplinary whip,- but authoritative can be a role I find hard pressed to play. I'm the mouse that can roar when pushed, but I usually prefer to squeak loudly.....I don't think I impressed....
Performance and Responsibility have also been on my mind over the past few weeks since the last meeting with my 'shrink'. I happened to remember that I used the term "performance" a lot when I had a little bit of councilling at university some years ago - I was having a little trouble getting my assignments completed and in on time and my personal tutor thought that a few councilling and relaxation sessions might do the trick. The phrase also cropped up again about 9 months ago when I went to see a sex councillor in the hope that my doctor would put me on the list for prescribed Viagra. (In order to qualify for NHS Viagra your doctor has to make sure than any erectile dysfunction if you have it is a physical rather than mental problem). I went to the Sex Therapist thinking it would be a walk-over: I was wrong...A one-hour cuch trip later I was told "go out, dont worry about performance, Have -fun..". So I did....
Sex and essay writing: quite different themes I know, but here they were joined at the hip and parented by that couple Performance and Responsibility.....
It was in exploring the above links that I realised how much of my pleasure and perception of myself, good or bad, is born in relation to others and is 'enacted'. At college, I wrote essays mainly for my lecturers and as they were my main audience who judged my work - I worried about my performance. My failure to take better responsibility for my actions - writing the essays for myself and taking pleasure in that- had led to the issues of procrastination and non-completion. Any potential failings could thus be self-fulfilled via the back door - after all how can I be judged for something I havent done!... A similar situation could be said of activities in the bedroom. In the past I have often had sex more for the pleasure of my partners than necessarily my own needs - and similarly worried about my performance. And there have been times where a sheer failure to confront - take responsibility for - to enjoy -my own sexual needs have led me once again to procrastinate, put off having sex at all! In the midst of my current and continuing bout of self confidence and resultant sexual spree, I had forgotten that for a two year period about 10 years ago - I was almost celibate - too frightened to go out and see to my sexual needs....how sad and unfortunate is that!?
I dont know where all this thinking about Performance and Responsibility has gotten me and where its yet to go. I'm certainly grateful, however, of the reminders of how I once was, sexually and essay-writingly..and how much in certain areas I've changed for the better. I realise too, though, that these terms seem to cut to the heart of who I am - and underpin my general prediliction for procrastination and putting things off. Further thought on this, together with more grabbing of bulls by the horns, can only lead to me knowing myself better.
Hmmmm. Performance and Responsibility.....
These two words have been cropping up quite a lot lately - and particularly this week. I wielded Performance and Responsibility both at class to impress upon my new students (who arrived in London this week) an appropriate framework for study. I tried as hard as I could to sound authoritative and crack the disciplinary whip,- but authoritative can be a role I find hard pressed to play. I'm the mouse that can roar when pushed, but I usually prefer to squeak loudly.....I don't think I impressed....
Performance and Responsibility have also been on my mind over the past few weeks since the last meeting with my 'shrink'. I happened to remember that I used the term "performance" a lot when I had a little bit of councilling at university some years ago - I was having a little trouble getting my assignments completed and in on time and my personal tutor thought that a few councilling and relaxation sessions might do the trick. The phrase also cropped up again about 9 months ago when I went to see a sex councillor in the hope that my doctor would put me on the list for prescribed Viagra. (In order to qualify for NHS Viagra your doctor has to make sure than any erectile dysfunction if you have it is a physical rather than mental problem). I went to the Sex Therapist thinking it would be a walk-over: I was wrong...A one-hour cuch trip later I was told "go out, dont worry about performance, Have -fun..". So I did....
Sex and essay writing: quite different themes I know, but here they were joined at the hip and parented by that couple Performance and Responsibility.....
It was in exploring the above links that I realised how much of my pleasure and perception of myself, good or bad, is born in relation to others and is 'enacted'. At college, I wrote essays mainly for my lecturers and as they were my main audience who judged my work - I worried about my performance. My failure to take better responsibility for my actions - writing the essays for myself and taking pleasure in that- had led to the issues of procrastination and non-completion. Any potential failings could thus be self-fulfilled via the back door - after all how can I be judged for something I havent done!... A similar situation could be said of activities in the bedroom. In the past I have often had sex more for the pleasure of my partners than necessarily my own needs - and similarly worried about my performance. And there have been times where a sheer failure to confront - take responsibility for - to enjoy -my own sexual needs have led me once again to procrastinate, put off having sex at all! In the midst of my current and continuing bout of self confidence and resultant sexual spree, I had forgotten that for a two year period about 10 years ago - I was almost celibate - too frightened to go out and see to my sexual needs....how sad and unfortunate is that!?
I dont know where all this thinking about Performance and Responsibility has gotten me and where its yet to go. I'm certainly grateful, however, of the reminders of how I once was, sexually and essay-writingly..and how much in certain areas I've changed for the better. I realise too, though, that these terms seem to cut to the heart of who I am - and underpin my general prediliction for procrastination and putting things off. Further thought on this, together with more grabbing of bulls by the horns, can only lead to me knowing myself better.
Hmmmm. Performance and Responsibility.....
Sunday, August 24, 2003
SEX DWARFED
24 hours of sex, music and clubbing this Friday has been just the job for keeping earlier sad autumnal ruminations at bay,hehe. In the process, I seem to have (re-)discovered why the late seventies and early eighties appeal to - god I sound like my dad when I say this next phrase - "the younger generation".....
I spent friday night at a night called 'The Cock' in the Ghetto Club, Soho. I was happy to try out an alternative Friday nighter, especially given that my usual haunt in south London was becoming so commercial, so full of morons. And what a fantastic night the Cock turned out to be; harder beats and dirty lyrics; certainly a seedier venue; and a good mixed crowd of mixed ages, from mullet boys to punkier hair-hoppers.. And the nicest thing? - a much happer drug scene,- if it was happening at all - None of that murky K snorting and introspection which you often get in the clonier clubs. (or maybe I just didnt see any?) Just a good crowd of up for it clubbers happy to have fun, enjoy the company and music. For a while there, dancing to those electronic beats and riffs from early eighties Indie, I was 19 again, back at the Rum -Runner club, Brimingham, hair crimped eyeliner and jodphurs on, feeling untouchable and dancing the night away....... Well, til 2AM anyway..
24 hours of sex, music and clubbing this Friday has been just the job for keeping earlier sad autumnal ruminations at bay,hehe. In the process, I seem to have (re-)discovered why the late seventies and early eighties appeal to - god I sound like my dad when I say this next phrase - "the younger generation".....
I spent friday night at a night called 'The Cock' in the Ghetto Club, Soho. I was happy to try out an alternative Friday nighter, especially given that my usual haunt in south London was becoming so commercial, so full of morons. And what a fantastic night the Cock turned out to be; harder beats and dirty lyrics; certainly a seedier venue; and a good mixed crowd of mixed ages, from mullet boys to punkier hair-hoppers.. And the nicest thing? - a much happer drug scene,- if it was happening at all - None of that murky K snorting and introspection which you often get in the clonier clubs. (or maybe I just didnt see any?) Just a good crowd of up for it clubbers happy to have fun, enjoy the company and music. For a while there, dancing to those electronic beats and riffs from early eighties Indie, I was 19 again, back at the Rum -Runner club, Brimingham, hair crimped eyeliner and jodphurs on, feeling untouchable and dancing the night away....... Well, til 2AM anyway..
Friday, August 22, 2003
Its slightly overcast here in London today as I type in my usual morning halfnakedness. Silvery rays are reflecting off the miriad windscreens of cars parked outside and into my lounge windows, glittered by last nights rain. The first cold breeze in a long while is wafting through the flat now and then. Its just enough to lift apart the half closing curtains, gesture the air with more harsh brilliance and work a path to touch my unshirted spine like a welcome-unwanted reveller. Scattered leaves on the bleached-dried grass outside, like the debris noticed on an emptying dancefloor, offer a final telling reminder that Autumn is just around the corner and is aiming to turn up the harsher lights on this golden summer's party........
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
SPOT CHECK
.... And to top it off this past week I've not been too well. A very bad case of stomach pains and the runs, bought on I think as a bacterial consequence of M being ill with Shingles. I think I've got through a months supply of Norimode in just one week......
It all seemed to start a couple of days after Brighton pride. M complaining of a rash to his new boyfirend, the rash over the next 24 hours turning into horrible little white boils. Nasty, - especialy when M has a knack of skipping round the appartment in just a pair of knickers! Its around this time that I start getting a dodgy stomach. M's spotty rash turns out following a trip to the doctors to be Shingles, worsened by a bacterial infection of the skin. Just lovely! Its more than likely, the doctor says, that my dickie stomach is just a response to that extra bit of pestilence running around the flat!!
Some lessons can be learned here: First the doctor confirms that Shingles is bought on by a severe weakening of the immune system. Its very likely to recur in people who severely cane it with drugs on Brighton Pride weekends, especially if their immune and nerve system is already depleted by the use of Steroids!... M is not too happy that the doctor can read him like a book, and I steel my resolve to keep away from the recreational stimulants! Thankfully, as part of my HIV medications I take a prophylactic dose of Acyclovir each day which I think can keep herpes strain illnesses, such as Shingles, at bay. I must make sure I confirm that vis-a-vis shingles when I next see doctor.... I also realise that an extra bit of effort, bleach and disinfectant around the appartment would work wonders. (hmmm I really will look forward to employiong a cleaner!...)
The whole event reminds me, though, of my own severe case of Chicken Pox nearly ten years ago - so serious that it also gave rise to some moon sized craters and a mild case of bloodpoisoning. Clearly my own immune system was at a low then, and I wonder if that illness marked the moment of my HIV seroconversion. Suddenly images of HIV coffee mornings spring to mind, - "tell me, Pozblog.." I hear someone say as a bunch of butch leather queens politely peck at rich tea biscuits and labour hard to make sure no coffee is spilt on their chaps "...what serious illness bought your HIV on...."
.... And to top it off this past week I've not been too well. A very bad case of stomach pains and the runs, bought on I think as a bacterial consequence of M being ill with Shingles. I think I've got through a months supply of Norimode in just one week......
It all seemed to start a couple of days after Brighton pride. M complaining of a rash to his new boyfirend, the rash over the next 24 hours turning into horrible little white boils. Nasty, - especialy when M has a knack of skipping round the appartment in just a pair of knickers! Its around this time that I start getting a dodgy stomach. M's spotty rash turns out following a trip to the doctors to be Shingles, worsened by a bacterial infection of the skin. Just lovely! Its more than likely, the doctor says, that my dickie stomach is just a response to that extra bit of pestilence running around the flat!!
Some lessons can be learned here: First the doctor confirms that Shingles is bought on by a severe weakening of the immune system. Its very likely to recur in people who severely cane it with drugs on Brighton Pride weekends, especially if their immune and nerve system is already depleted by the use of Steroids!... M is not too happy that the doctor can read him like a book, and I steel my resolve to keep away from the recreational stimulants! Thankfully, as part of my HIV medications I take a prophylactic dose of Acyclovir each day which I think can keep herpes strain illnesses, such as Shingles, at bay. I must make sure I confirm that vis-a-vis shingles when I next see doctor.... I also realise that an extra bit of effort, bleach and disinfectant around the appartment would work wonders. (hmmm I really will look forward to employiong a cleaner!...)
The whole event reminds me, though, of my own severe case of Chicken Pox nearly ten years ago - so serious that it also gave rise to some moon sized craters and a mild case of bloodpoisoning. Clearly my own immune system was at a low then, and I wonder if that illness marked the moment of my HIV seroconversion. Suddenly images of HIV coffee mornings spring to mind, - "tell me, Pozblog.." I hear someone say as a bunch of butch leather queens politely peck at rich tea biscuits and labour hard to make sure no coffee is spilt on their chaps "...what serious illness bought your HIV on...."
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
DUMPING GROUNDS
I havent blogged for a while. It's not that nothing has been going on. More of a case of a fair bit going on, just me having a little trouble sorting things out and writing about them....
First I've been finding it a bit hard without A around. - I didnt realise how much I value his company and the withdrawal has been kinda harsh. I've spent a fair bit of time this week ruminating over the rightness of my decision. He accepted me for who I am, warts and all; I could thoroughly relax in his company; and we made each other laugh and feel wanted.... I've found it hard, I suppose, because I question whether or not I will find someone to do similar and more....
In the absence of A, I guess I sought solace in the company of another nice guy, K. I'd seen him a couple of times on a casual, sexual, basis - and last week agreed to go on a date with him... Although he was nice too and I saw him again... I've been increasinly feeling that I'm certainly not ready to jump into another form of relationship, especially just after having finished with A. So it turned out to be another 'dear John' dumping situation - the second in a month! He took it rather badly - suggesting to me that I'd probably done the right thing given that I'd only just met him, but also evidence that I am capable of generating strong feelings in people....
All this has brought me to a 'Sex and the City' kinda questioning these days: How can I expect someone to love me full-on 100% when I dont love myself full-on 100%...? That question is of course rhetorical, the bigger realisation and underlying 'answer' I suppose means more work coming to terms with who I am and what I want before I can consider giving it up and fully relaxing to love someone else....
Such ruminations have led me to question what I have to go on... and so I've asked myself If I ever was in the past truly in love with anyone or if not - what relationship in my mind best approximated it. Yep its been a real 'Carrie' kinda week of things - with none of the alternative 'Samantha' -type encounters to make ease of the situation!!! Did I ever fully love myself and who I am, or did someone or something related to Love happen along and cause me to question it all? Some heavy contemplation, I can tell you, but regardless of the past I think I do love myself. Its more a case of having little faith and trust in sharing it with others. Something seems to have left me with a little lack of faith and trust..... and I need to do something about that -....!
So more on this to follow......
I havent blogged for a while. It's not that nothing has been going on. More of a case of a fair bit going on, just me having a little trouble sorting things out and writing about them....
First I've been finding it a bit hard without A around. - I didnt realise how much I value his company and the withdrawal has been kinda harsh. I've spent a fair bit of time this week ruminating over the rightness of my decision. He accepted me for who I am, warts and all; I could thoroughly relax in his company; and we made each other laugh and feel wanted.... I've found it hard, I suppose, because I question whether or not I will find someone to do similar and more....
In the absence of A, I guess I sought solace in the company of another nice guy, K. I'd seen him a couple of times on a casual, sexual, basis - and last week agreed to go on a date with him... Although he was nice too and I saw him again... I've been increasinly feeling that I'm certainly not ready to jump into another form of relationship, especially just after having finished with A. So it turned out to be another 'dear John' dumping situation - the second in a month! He took it rather badly - suggesting to me that I'd probably done the right thing given that I'd only just met him, but also evidence that I am capable of generating strong feelings in people....
All this has brought me to a 'Sex and the City' kinda questioning these days: How can I expect someone to love me full-on 100% when I dont love myself full-on 100%...? That question is of course rhetorical, the bigger realisation and underlying 'answer' I suppose means more work coming to terms with who I am and what I want before I can consider giving it up and fully relaxing to love someone else....
Such ruminations have led me to question what I have to go on... and so I've asked myself If I ever was in the past truly in love with anyone or if not - what relationship in my mind best approximated it. Yep its been a real 'Carrie' kinda week of things - with none of the alternative 'Samantha' -type encounters to make ease of the situation!!! Did I ever fully love myself and who I am, or did someone or something related to Love happen along and cause me to question it all? Some heavy contemplation, I can tell you, but regardless of the past I think I do love myself. Its more a case of having little faith and trust in sharing it with others. Something seems to have left me with a little lack of faith and trust..... and I need to do something about that -....!
So more on this to follow......
Monday, August 11, 2003
More of that reality dawning today. Its hot and sticky, I have little money and I have to make some decisions about work... (I'm also feeling a little podgy and so a little more effort down at the gym wouldnt go amiss either!)
As much as I seem to have gotten myself relatively together at a personal level (and am very proud of that), I've lately been feeling a little 'flimsy' and 'disconnected' in the more materialist areas of work and play. As if lately, I'm feeling not quite all there...living a half life on the peripharies of thirty-something stability.
I find when I meet some people and they ask those questions about 'what do you do? etc' I get a little edgy, knowing that the information I give them is not as complete and truthful as it might be. I guess I am starting to feel a little ashamed at being dependent on those government handouts such as DLA. I clearly I dont inform many people that I am claiming them, choosing instead to emphasise the work I now do part time or not at all. Its kind of hard admitting that economically Im part of 'the underclass'... Harder, it seems, than admitting that I am HIV! Now theres a heavy thought for a monday morning .....
As much as I seem to have gotten myself relatively together at a personal level (and am very proud of that), I've lately been feeling a little 'flimsy' and 'disconnected' in the more materialist areas of work and play. As if lately, I'm feeling not quite all there...living a half life on the peripharies of thirty-something stability.
I find when I meet some people and they ask those questions about 'what do you do? etc' I get a little edgy, knowing that the information I give them is not as complete and truthful as it might be. I guess I am starting to feel a little ashamed at being dependent on those government handouts such as DLA. I clearly I dont inform many people that I am claiming them, choosing instead to emphasise the work I now do part time or not at all. Its kind of hard admitting that economically Im part of 'the underclass'... Harder, it seems, than admitting that I am HIV! Now theres a heavy thought for a monday morning .....
Sunday, August 10, 2003
MORE PRIDE
I spent another dreamy day on the coast yesterday, this time in Brighton for their Pride celebrations. An early jaunt on the train with my mate C , a big breakfast, then off to a pre-pride party and to the Park... And what a glorious and fun day it was, putting London to Shame in its organisation and spirit. - bought back memories of the old pride festivals in Brockwell park and Clapham Common.... Sun pouring down, squeals from the funfair, backbeats from the dance tents and huddles of guys and girls tightly lazing in the shadows of the parktrees...
..And who should I bump into there but my lovely mate from the coast on wednesday with a few of his friends. It figures we spent a little more time with each other than we should have done given that we both had friends in tow, - but what the heck - It was great to be doing that full on snogging in the middle of the park with absolutely no-one batting an eyelid..... Ended up spending the rest of the day together .....
And so back home on the 9pm train, packed to the hilts with dazed revellers and other sorts of brighton trippers.
I spent another dreamy day on the coast yesterday, this time in Brighton for their Pride celebrations. An early jaunt on the train with my mate C , a big breakfast, then off to a pre-pride party and to the Park... And what a glorious and fun day it was, putting London to Shame in its organisation and spirit. - bought back memories of the old pride festivals in Brockwell park and Clapham Common.... Sun pouring down, squeals from the funfair, backbeats from the dance tents and huddles of guys and girls tightly lazing in the shadows of the parktrees...
..And who should I bump into there but my lovely mate from the coast on wednesday with a few of his friends. It figures we spent a little more time with each other than we should have done given that we both had friends in tow, - but what the heck - It was great to be doing that full on snogging in the middle of the park with absolutely no-one batting an eyelid..... Ended up spending the rest of the day together .....
And so back home on the 9pm train, packed to the hilts with dazed revellers and other sorts of brighton trippers.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
2 GO MAD IN DORSET
Just back from a couple of wonderful days on the coast! Great nude sunbathing, great company, great weather.....and great everything else!!...
With a swish of my beach sarong I veil any other details of my fantastic adventure by the sea.. other than to say that I will sure remember what I was up to on the hottest day in Britain since 1977......
Just back from a couple of wonderful days on the coast! Great nude sunbathing, great company, great weather.....and great everything else!!...
With a swish of my beach sarong I veil any other details of my fantastic adventure by the sea.. other than to say that I will sure remember what I was up to on the hottest day in Britain since 1977......
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
A FEW THINGS TO SMILE ABOUT
"We're having a heatwave...."
Early sixties feminism sprang to mind this morning as I grabbed a mirror, opened up and took a bloody good look and poke around! But I'm talking my mouth of course and my recent dental work. ..and, well, apart from the gap and a sore cheek, everything feels fine and dandy in there. Dentist even fixed a chip on one of my front teeth so I have an even more fabulously pearly white smile....
"...a tropical heatwave.."
A texted me as well. - I had seen him out and about over the weekend but the reception was cool, - so it was nice to have him invite me out for dinner and a chat on friday night, which I accepted. I have missed his chirpy texts a lot and its been difficult trying not to call him..so I look forward to the possibility that a good frienship will evolve out of this....
"the tempratures rising, it isn't surprising...."
And guess what!? That man from the coast that I'd chatted with last friday (see blog Aug 01). Phwoooar!! Well Ive been chatting with him every day since then and we get along. So Im heading down to the coast for a couple of days tomorrow to meet him. I'm sure we'll hit it off, but even if we don't a couple of days by the sea in this heat is gonna be very welcome!...
"we suddenly can, Can can.....!"
"We're having a heatwave...."
Early sixties feminism sprang to mind this morning as I grabbed a mirror, opened up and took a bloody good look and poke around! But I'm talking my mouth of course and my recent dental work. ..and, well, apart from the gap and a sore cheek, everything feels fine and dandy in there. Dentist even fixed a chip on one of my front teeth so I have an even more fabulously pearly white smile....
"...a tropical heatwave.."
A texted me as well. - I had seen him out and about over the weekend but the reception was cool, - so it was nice to have him invite me out for dinner and a chat on friday night, which I accepted. I have missed his chirpy texts a lot and its been difficult trying not to call him..so I look forward to the possibility that a good frienship will evolve out of this....
"the tempratures rising, it isn't surprising...."
And guess what!? That man from the coast that I'd chatted with last friday (see blog Aug 01). Phwoooar!! Well Ive been chatting with him every day since then and we get along. So Im heading down to the coast for a couple of days tomorrow to meet him. I'm sure we'll hit it off, but even if we don't a couple of days by the sea in this heat is gonna be very welcome!...
"we suddenly can, Can can.....!"
Monday, August 04, 2003
LIDOCAINE LIP
Outh!... I cant thpeak withou' 'ribbling......
I'm just back from the Dental Hospital.
Being HIV and Squeaminsh means I qualify for free special care dentistry and sedation. No Sadie, my usual lovely dentist tho' this week. Oh no!... Today it was David - and a set of stronger hands needed to yank out that miserable tooth!... Ok, It wasnt too bad... - Lulled into a false sense of security through encouragement to think back to my holiday (hmm The Lovely Frenchman... ) it was a bit of a tense tug, a metalic flavoured crunch and a flailing arm for a second or too ..and well that was about it.. Then quickly on to Joy, the hygeinist and a 30 minute session of the hardest scraping and sandblasting before the gas wore off. Lastly another rant on appropriate brushing and meticulous oral care and the job was over. And there you go, -this season of dental drama done with no cliffhangers leading to another series in the imminent future.....
Give it another couple of hours and the anaesthetic will be wearing off! - and that is when the dull ache will start and the tongue will be feeling for the gap where the tooth was. - It will feel, no doubt, like there's a Khyber pass in my mouth - hopefully not with appropriate smells of afghan camel dung, given the state of my gums ......
As much as I'm trying to give myself that proverbial pat on the back for actually going - (Ive had cancellation and procrastination dreams all night..) It is slowly dawning on me that, Unlike in childhood, the tooth will not grow back. That gaping chasm soon to be felt is a knowing sign of the disparity between my late feeling s of youthfulness and a bodily reality of continuing age with odd bits of decrepitude - and I think its that, rather than the actual process of extraction which will be giving me a dull ache today.
Outh!... I cant thpeak withou' 'ribbling......
I'm just back from the Dental Hospital.
Being HIV and Squeaminsh means I qualify for free special care dentistry and sedation. No Sadie, my usual lovely dentist tho' this week. Oh no!... Today it was David - and a set of stronger hands needed to yank out that miserable tooth!... Ok, It wasnt too bad... - Lulled into a false sense of security through encouragement to think back to my holiday (hmm The Lovely Frenchman... ) it was a bit of a tense tug, a metalic flavoured crunch and a flailing arm for a second or too ..and well that was about it.. Then quickly on to Joy, the hygeinist and a 30 minute session of the hardest scraping and sandblasting before the gas wore off. Lastly another rant on appropriate brushing and meticulous oral care and the job was over. And there you go, -this season of dental drama done with no cliffhangers leading to another series in the imminent future.....
Give it another couple of hours and the anaesthetic will be wearing off! - and that is when the dull ache will start and the tongue will be feeling for the gap where the tooth was. - It will feel, no doubt, like there's a Khyber pass in my mouth - hopefully not with appropriate smells of afghan camel dung, given the state of my gums ......
As much as I'm trying to give myself that proverbial pat on the back for actually going - (Ive had cancellation and procrastination dreams all night..) It is slowly dawning on me that, Unlike in childhood, the tooth will not grow back. That gaping chasm soon to be felt is a knowing sign of the disparity between my late feeling s of youthfulness and a bodily reality of continuing age with odd bits of decrepitude - and I think its that, rather than the actual process of extraction which will be giving me a dull ache today.
Saturday, August 02, 2003
CLUBBING TYPES...OR TYPES THAT NEED CLUBBING!
Sitting here, a glorious sunny day outside; Lamb blasting out on my media player; me wondering and hoping that such a glorious summer feeling would be more constant, never end.... I'll be heading out into the sun in a bit...
A much more balanced sentiment, I think, compared to those I had last night whilst out clubbing. And I think I've finally now realised the south London Friday clubbing equation that leads people to drugtaking. First, as the night progresses, the music keeps getting better -but unfortunately the clubbers keep getting skankier. People presumably snort the K to anaesthetise their eyes from seeing who is actually dancing around them, touching them up....! Sorry if that sounds bitter and twisted, but in a state of absolute sobriety last night I couldn't help but notice the crowd around me and it wasn't its usually appealing coterie. Here are some of the clubber dance types I could'nt help but notice as I tried to groove my night away:
The Flailer: That guy who seems to have lost all sense of personal space as he invades that of others with his combine harvester limbs, ploughing up the more serene clubbers on the dancefloor and reducing them to chaff. a bit like one of those wind up swimmer toys you let loose in the bath, unable to pre-empt where its gonna end up..... Ever more deadly and destructive if the said flailer is wielding a lit cigarette!!
The Wannabe Eighties Grease Dance Extra (WEDGE for short).: Those ultramodish guys who insists on dancing move for move and gesture for gesture like they're a seventies or eighties throwback. Sorry guys, but some of those retro dance 'quotes' from the Birdie Song and Grease are more funny than aesthetically groovy, especially if you dont get them exactly right. (Remember I was their at the time of the original!..) Thankfully these types seem to run out of steam after the first hour of clubbing and disappear never to be seen again, presumably in a re-appropriated PoMo club version of 'Bermuda Triangle'. Well... they disappear til next friday anyway......
The Tiggy Leg Berk: (royalists will see the joke..) That guy who seems to be experiencing the core of his E-reverie through the muscles of his upper legs and arse hole. Hes the one dancing in those crouching positions, an arse as pert and as wide as the grin on his face. The movement of the legs and butt resemble a guy blindly seeking a toilet seat in the absence of a light bulb. And the face has that kind of look you can imagine someone having as they crouch and crap behind a bush after having held it in for an hour and thirty minutes....
Le Chic K Freak ("...lets Bump"): That smooth operator who seems to glide effortlessly accross the dance floor, hips bagatelling the others out of the way as he smooches from corner to corner in search of his next free bump of K. There he goes, quick as a flash at the glint of glass from a clubbers pocket. False alarm though- only a bottle of poppers this time...but hes ever alert for that flick and twist of the wrist that denotes an imminent dispense and snort....
Sitting here, a glorious sunny day outside; Lamb blasting out on my media player; me wondering and hoping that such a glorious summer feeling would be more constant, never end.... I'll be heading out into the sun in a bit...
A much more balanced sentiment, I think, compared to those I had last night whilst out clubbing. And I think I've finally now realised the south London Friday clubbing equation that leads people to drugtaking. First, as the night progresses, the music keeps getting better -but unfortunately the clubbers keep getting skankier. People presumably snort the K to anaesthetise their eyes from seeing who is actually dancing around them, touching them up....! Sorry if that sounds bitter and twisted, but in a state of absolute sobriety last night I couldn't help but notice the crowd around me and it wasn't its usually appealing coterie. Here are some of the clubber dance types I could'nt help but notice as I tried to groove my night away:
The Flailer: That guy who seems to have lost all sense of personal space as he invades that of others with his combine harvester limbs, ploughing up the more serene clubbers on the dancefloor and reducing them to chaff. a bit like one of those wind up swimmer toys you let loose in the bath, unable to pre-empt where its gonna end up..... Ever more deadly and destructive if the said flailer is wielding a lit cigarette!!
The Wannabe Eighties Grease Dance Extra (WEDGE for short).: Those ultramodish guys who insists on dancing move for move and gesture for gesture like they're a seventies or eighties throwback. Sorry guys, but some of those retro dance 'quotes' from the Birdie Song and Grease are more funny than aesthetically groovy, especially if you dont get them exactly right. (Remember I was their at the time of the original!..) Thankfully these types seem to run out of steam after the first hour of clubbing and disappear never to be seen again, presumably in a re-appropriated PoMo club version of 'Bermuda Triangle'. Well... they disappear til next friday anyway......
The Tiggy Leg Berk: (royalists will see the joke..) That guy who seems to be experiencing the core of his E-reverie through the muscles of his upper legs and arse hole. Hes the one dancing in those crouching positions, an arse as pert and as wide as the grin on his face. The movement of the legs and butt resemble a guy blindly seeking a toilet seat in the absence of a light bulb. And the face has that kind of look you can imagine someone having as they crouch and crap behind a bush after having held it in for an hour and thirty minutes....
Le Chic K Freak ("...lets Bump"): That smooth operator who seems to glide effortlessly accross the dance floor, hips bagatelling the others out of the way as he smooches from corner to corner in search of his next free bump of K. There he goes, quick as a flash at the glint of glass from a clubbers pocket. False alarm though- only a bottle of poppers this time...but hes ever alert for that flick and twist of the wrist that denotes an imminent dispense and snort....
Friday, August 01, 2003
WOW. Ive just spent the last hour and a half chatting on the phone with this gorgeous and interesting guy from the coast! I happened across his Gaydar profile earlier today, sent him a couple of messages over the afternoon and whaddaya know - pouring out life stories, long-distance over cups of coffee and tea in the wee small hours of the morning.
Its actually amazing how intimate a phonecall can get these days without knowing it! What with my free handset and love of caffeine, this stranger was effectively chatting to me in my kitchen while I microwaved some hot milk for a cappucino, hunted my fridge for a midnight snack and probably bit my nails or picked my nose in the absence of finding one. And at his end?... Well, apparently I was chatting to him whilst he was undressing and getting ready for bed - purely innocently of course - although he too has a roamers handset and what he was doing with his free hand remains a mystery! The majority of our conversation, we inform each other at the end, was undertaken with me curled up on my sofa and him tucked snuggly away under his duvet... All so natural and unassuming that somehow images of Jim-Bob chatting warmly through the wall to John-boy before wishing goodnight to the rest of the Blue-Ridge household spring readily and stangely to mind. .... Except we're both better looking than the Waltons boys, of course. We wouldnt be seen dead in a pair of dungarees and our storylines are a heck of a lot more racy - Hell, Ike and Corabeth Godsey would have had a field day whisperin' down at their store....!
And so to the didactic end of this episode... How I continue to be blown away by how people including myself want and love to give freely of themselves and share their lives to relative strangers based on the trusts presented by few words and images.
Brings a near tear to the eye....
G'night Elizabeth. G'night Sue-Ellen, G'night Ben.....
Its actually amazing how intimate a phonecall can get these days without knowing it! What with my free handset and love of caffeine, this stranger was effectively chatting to me in my kitchen while I microwaved some hot milk for a cappucino, hunted my fridge for a midnight snack and probably bit my nails or picked my nose in the absence of finding one. And at his end?... Well, apparently I was chatting to him whilst he was undressing and getting ready for bed - purely innocently of course - although he too has a roamers handset and what he was doing with his free hand remains a mystery! The majority of our conversation, we inform each other at the end, was undertaken with me curled up on my sofa and him tucked snuggly away under his duvet... All so natural and unassuming that somehow images of Jim-Bob chatting warmly through the wall to John-boy before wishing goodnight to the rest of the Blue-Ridge household spring readily and stangely to mind. .... Except we're both better looking than the Waltons boys, of course. We wouldnt be seen dead in a pair of dungarees and our storylines are a heck of a lot more racy - Hell, Ike and Corabeth Godsey would have had a field day whisperin' down at their store....!
And so to the didactic end of this episode... How I continue to be blown away by how people including myself want and love to give freely of themselves and share their lives to relative strangers based on the trusts presented by few words and images.
Brings a near tear to the eye....
G'night Elizabeth. G'night Sue-Ellen, G'night Ben.....
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