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Thursday 20 November 2008
Two Times Tennis
Twenty!
"Ha Ha! That is a very good pune, or play on words."
No, seriously, second tennis session in five days this evening. This time played an hour and a half of singles, so much more energetic, and at no point was I even remotely out of breath. And no matter how shocked you are about this, your shock is nothing compared to mine.
Hope the weather keeps good for Sundays session.
In other news, I've been a bit rubbish around here again this week. It's largely due to work. On Monday, this week looked like it was going to be pretty straightforward, and suddenly, it got really, really busy. And I'm in no way complaining, because look at the alternative, but it's kept me a bit distracted. In a good way though.
I'll try to be better though.
"Working All The Time....
....to make you mine all mine."
Following on from my recent Erasure retro-fest, I'm having a similar evening in the company of Holly Johnson tonight. He's stoking up the Love Train just at the moment.
I'm also having odd online conversations again. It's a weird thing - considering how long I've been online (I mean in years, not this evening), it's only in the last few months I've really started to engage people I don't know in real life. And I'm making what feel like good friends in people who it's entirely likely I never will know in real life. I wonder if I just hit some odd point of crtitical mass earlier this year where I was just taking part in so many online projects, communities and other activites that enough people were aware of me that I was just absorbed into things. Not a very scientific analysis, but I can't at the moment think of another.
Please Tell Me This Is A Joke
They're bringing back Blake's Seven.
No, seriously.
They're bringing back Blake's Seven.
I thought it was some kind of sick, twisted monster's idea of a joke, but it's not.
They're bringing back Blake's Seven!!!!!
You'd Better Sit Down For This....
I'm going out shortly.
To play tennis.
Yes, I know - I didn't prepare you properly for the shock, did I? I'm sorry - I should have laid the groundwork better, given you more chance to build up to it, not just blurted out something so shocking without having provided a link to some kind of trauma support group.
Anyway - I'm heading off to lunch at Alison's after, and then on for a much-delayed marathon viewing of the last five episodes of The West Wing Season Three and the first of Season Four. So I probably won't be back.
My silence for the rest of the day is not because I'm in A&E.
Well, it might be of course, but it won't automatically be.
Catch you tomorrow.
Okay, So I Lied
Two last things about Pride:
Uniformed officers march in Gay Pride
And
The Reason For Pride
One more for the theme of the weekend, then I'll shut up about it, I promise.
The question of whether we need Pride anymore is one that occasionally comes up both within and without the LGBT communities. Such great strides have been made, the argument goes, that there is little reason for us to need to make our presence felt through special events.
In response to the thoughts I posted last night, the online debate took in many points, but one was this:
"Okay, I'm going to preface this with the statement I don't object in the slightest to gay/bi pride, but I'm going to say I don't understand it. It's my understanding that it's generally accepted in the gay community that homosexuality is not a choice, but something you are and are born with. I can understand that, as I couldn't choose to be gay any more than you could choose to be straight. But that's where my confusion comes from. How is it you're proud of something natural that you have no control over? To me, if it's something you're born with and is natural, saying 'I'm proud to be gay' doesn't seem any different than saying 'I'm proud to have two eyes.' "
I understand this viewpoint completely, but it misses some specifics of the experience that informs Pride.
Discussion followed, some of which I extract here (note 'extract' - I'm missing a fair bit out).
"For me it's about being able to stand up and be who you are. You're right, it's not the same pride you might have in something you've done or achieved, but it's pride in yourself.
You won't have experienced this, but to be told all your life that what you are is wrong, or evil, or unnatural... look, you're attracted to women. That's not something you've chosen. If I told you that it was wrong, that you had to be attracted to men, you couldn't do it. This is the fundamental misunderstanding straight people make when they talk about our 'lifestyle choices'. A townhouse is a lifestyle choice. Homosexuality, Bisexuality, Heterosexuality is part of who you are.
Personally, I've gotten this from both sides. Straights who tell me it's wrong to be attracted to other women (and they offer my appreciation of men as proof that I'm just 'in a phase') and lesbians who tell me I should have the courage to make a choice, or to stop pretending to be straight."
The questioner replied:
" I think I get it now. You're proud because you're doing what you should despite the fact people have been known to go out of their way to make that difficult. That applies to a lot of situations. I personally wouldn't be proud if I were in any of them, because in my head I would just be doing what I should be doing.
But then it falls back to what you believe. I'm not a proud person, so I have a hard time understanding when other people are."
To which the respondent hit the nail so firmly on the head I was embarassed not to have managed this summation myself:
"The word Pride is generally taken to mean some sort of conceit about yourself, or about something you've done. We don't use it that way. Nor would we (most likely) consider ourselves 'proud' people.
I didn't choose the word, but I think we use it not for its Dictionary meaning, but for its Thesaurus meaning: It's the opposite of Shame."
I mean, really, that's it, all of it, in one sentence. I'm awestruck.
On Pride
To pick up the theme of the weekend:
"The ability for people of different sexual determinations to stand up and be counted wherever we can is as important now as ever. Individual hatred and institutional prejudice remain widespread, and in too many countries, expressing that sexuality can still result in persecution, imprisonment and even death. Where we can display our unity, we must, as much on behalf of those who can't as on our own.
So I just thought I'd ... offer a few words on the subject of pride.
To me, pride is about standing up when the world wants you to lie down, and having the confidence to say 'yes' when the world is saying 'no'. Pride in oneself, and the knowledge that who and what you are is valid and good, is a gift of immeasurable value. Pride lets you stand up to the bigoted and the ignorant. I've never been ashamed of my sexuality, but I've occasionally been afraid of what other people might do out of their hatred: It was my pride which got me past that fear. And it's helped me to help others get past their own.
Pride is strength in adversity. Pride is companionship and support. Pride is a wonderful thing to find.
Pride - is no sin."
Have A Little Pride
So it's that time of the year again. Pride Weekend is upon us, and much is being made of the fact that for the first time ever, the post-march event is being held in Hyde Park - yes, they're letting the fags and dykes party right in the middle of town, where the tourists can see, and everything.
Note that I still persist in regarding the event as a march, and not a 'parade', even though the move towards parade is now well-established. At least the event in the park is actually being called Pride again now, rather than (*shudder*) Mardi Gras.
Sadly, the bad weather looks like it's set in. I wonder if that coven of white witches still performs its good weather ceremony the night before the event every year?
Those Missing Days
I've noticed recently that I miss odd days of posting anything here, like yesterday. This isn't actually a problem, because there's no rule, and no one ultimately is going to care about a little less of this crap in their daily mix, but I do find it weird that I only realise I've missed a day afterwards. Which I know sounds blatantly obvious and like I'm being a muppet again, but what I mean is that until I just looked, I was quite certain that I'd posted something yesterday. I couldn't tell you what, but I was sure I had found something to share with the world.
Everything's starting to merge together, that's what it is.
I blame the weather - my brain's overheating.
Or lack of sleep.
Or bad nutrition.
Or my upbringing.
Or Mike. Blaming Mike usually works.
Muppet
Have you ever had one of those occasions where you're so completely certain of something it literally never occurs to you that you could be anything but right?
Because I just have.
Trying to get to the last of Mike/Underhand's Comedy at JoJo's events of the season, I disembarked from the tube, running a little late, and walked directly to Madame JoJo's location. It's on Old Compton Street. It's been on Old Compton Street forever. I know exactly where on Old Compton Street too - it's just opposite where one of those north/south Soho roads comes out. I've been a bunch of times, and I used to work just round the corner. I know exactly where it is.
Hang on though. It's not there. Has it moved? Or am I just slightly misremembering? It must be further down the road. Hmmm, but it's not. On none of the three trips I've made along the length of Old Compton Street have I been past it. It must have moved. Damn! It simply never occured to me to look at the address on Mike's mails - I just saw 'Madame JoJo's and assumed it was still in the same place. Oh well, I'll give a call and ask Mike where it's moved to. Ah - no I won't, my battery's dead. Still, not to worry, someone round here will know.
It is at this point that I discover that more has changed than the location of a drag club. Drawn from years of hanging out there, my mental image of Old Compton Street populates it with old school fags who know the scene like the back of their hands. The reality is that the street is now occupied by 50% tourists (useless in any circumstance - doubly so when seeking directions in one's own city), and 50% pretty but vaccuous young things who seem to know only the bar they're currently outside of like the back of their hands. Actual response to my question:
"Ooh. Er, it's not this place is it? (Indicates sign that says 'Balans') No? Sorry, I can't help then."
So hot and sweaty, and in decidedly non-comedic mood, I came home.
Where I've discovered that JoJo's is not, and never was, on Old Compton Street. It is, and has always been, on Brewer Street.
I hold my hands up. "My name is Jon. And I am a muppet."
1602 II
Further to past postings about Neil Gaiman's upcoming Marvel Comics project 1602, the company have released some character design sketches, available at The Pulse.
I don't think I've ever seen a Gaiman project that's drawn such ambivalent comments from the comic fan collective consciousness. A lot of people seem to want to crap on the basic idea, some people seem to think that Gaiman going to Marvel is some sort of sell-out, and others are looking forward to it more than just about any other project coming out this year, up to and including Avengers/Justice League of America - and we've been waiting twenty years for that one.
You can put me in the latter category, by the way.
Religious Abuse
I noticed when looking at the Sunday site that they're linking to an Observer article regarding the abuse of women by various types of clergymen.
As with all of these things, it's difficult to be certain that the picture painted is an entirely subjective one, but even if only partly true, surely the ongoing abuses which are perpetrated by some people in positions of religious authority increasingly fail to shock.
Isn't it past time that people claiming to be able to offer some kind of institutional comfort and support in times of distress were properly monitored or regulated? Or even trained? Or even, (startling suggestion) screened in the first place for more than their suitability to mumble in a frock?
This blanket assumption that 'men of faith' are somehow purer than the rest of us is irrational at best in the light of increasing evidence to the contrary.
Edit - I note that Gert has also been discussing this subject.
Gender Issues
The draft Gender Recognition Bill was debated on the BBC's Sunday programme yesterday, with Angela Clayton, the Chair of The Gender Trust given all of twenty seconds of pre-recorded input alongside a generally open mike given to the Evangelical Alliance, wittering on about their latest pet 'threat to the sanctity of marriage'.
Anyway, there's a poll on the Sunday homepage:" Should a male to female transsexual be allowed to marry a man? " The vote is currently running at 719 yes and 26 no, but I think every additional vote would be a good thing, especially if it's a 'Yes'.....
And Another Weekend Goes By
Partly lost in the mists of being awake until 5am on Saturday, after a great but ultimately slightly fraught night out on Friday.
(Sidenote, courtesy of a walk late on Friday night in hopes of the fresh air helping me sleep, I discovered that there's what I can only describe as a cruising ground practically on my doorstep. Which is a bit disturbing, actually.)
And today my long term promise to myself that I'd sort out the stuff I've been eyeballing for the charity shop and get it ready for dispatch once again failed miserably to be fulfilled.
Still, at least I saw the two-part season ender of Smallville, and have Daredevil to watch on DVD.
Fame And Glory
For reasons that I won't get in to, we had a TV crew with us in the office for most of yesterday, and I'd forgotten what utter chaos such expeditions bring with them. The kit; the people; the to-ing and fro-ing to get more, or different, kit; the need to do things over and over, and in the most artificial ways (yes, I sat at my desk pretending to take a call). One of the things I used to dislike in my days in old media was the way TV people think that everything revolves around them: That they can just turn up and command your time, and it doesn't matter if you have more important things to do, or the reality of your situation unfortunately clashes with their eternal need to get just the right visual. This lot aren't the worst I've seen by any means, but even in their milder model, I can see elements of all the things that drove me mad in the bad old days.
HULK SMASHED PUNY HUMANS!
Went, saw, liked a lot.
The ending is a bit confused, but otherwise, a lot of the things that I've seen other people criticise the film for, I thought were strengths. It's good that it's a while before we see The Hulk itself, for instance.
Anyway - I have a cunning plan to do quite a bit of catching up around here at the weekend, and that includes adding Hulk and at least two other film reviews and some general tidying.
Bad Language
Talking to Charles earlier this morning helped me to get clear in my head something that's always annoyed me when dealing with certain types of client or prospect. They're the type which descibes a project as having 'a limited budget'. It annoys me on one level because it's meaningless - 'limited' in the context of some of our clients would be seen as 'generous' to some others.
But the thing that Charles noted is that it's also just crap use of language. When, realistically, do projects ever have 'unlimited budgets'? Really, and thanks to Charles for helping me to get it clear in my head, they're talking about budgets that are, at best, 'small', and more likely 'unfeasible' or 'inadequate'.
A little more willingness to recognise the truth of that could lead to a lot less trouble in the long run.
The Gays
I was at an event today - a networking style thing - and I was talking to a woman who might be working on a project with a gay-focused company that's run by "two great chums" of hers. Another woman taking part in the conversation managed to mishear somewhat, and came back with the first of two classic lines:
"Yes, they do make great chums, don't they? The Gays?"
I just stood and stared.
Then first woman corrected her misapprehension, and went on to mention another possible partner, a second gay-focused company with a truly terrible punning name which I won't say because that would be indiscreet. Second woman hooted with laughter (and never has the phrase been used more accurately), and threw classic line two into the mix:
"Oh that's so witty! But they are witty, aren't they? The Gays?"
Sometimes truth is by far stranger than any fiction could possibly manage.
Don't Shoot The Medium
I've been refraining from comment about this ridiculous story of the 12-year-old and the ex-Marine, but am I the only one who's sick to death of her being referred to as 'Net girl', or 'Internet girl', or 'Internet runaway' (all from today's Metro)?
Whichever way you spin the story, it's not the Internet's 'fault' that either she's a convincing liar or he's a knowing child-abducter. And when you read comments from her parents about how long she spent online every day, though they tried to restrict her, but she would connect when they weren't around, I for one start to get some very definite ideas about where things started to go wrong in that house....
Turns Out They're Real
I've been out for a jolly fine evening with some of the UK-based folks from Millarworld, where I've been spending some of my online time over the last six months or so. It's been a long time since I sat round a table with a group of people and talked about comics. But hopefully it won't be as long again. Big fun actually, and no geekier than was absolutely necessary :-)
HULK SMASH PUNY HUMANS!
Anyone else looking forward to seeing The Hulk? Dave, Mike and I are off to see it on Thursday, and I'm anticipating an event and a half.
The Family Weekend
Well, with apologies for the quietness the last couple of days:
On Saturday I had to do a pick-up from Heathrow Airport and then off up to Oxfordshire, where I'd offered to help out at Chris's family get-together. Following the death of their dad, Chris and his sisters had invited their extended family to come and select a memento from the house before it's sold. I'd offered to make cups of tea and generally lend a hand.
It's interesting to see other people's families in that sort of circumstance, and be able to view them with slightly more objectivity than one's own. To say that a wide range of human emotions was displayed is a bit of an understatement.
Still, I'm glad that I was there to help out.
I spent yesterday with my own family - my books, my comics and my computer, mostly sitting by the balcony door, basking in the sun, with the fan up to full and some serious chilling to be done. Which was in some ways a waste of a day, and in others, absolutely wasn't.
Unbelievable
Ten minutes to six the intercom man finally wandered back into the flat and told me that there was a problem with the intercoms specifically on my floor, and that I'd have to take yet another day off 'sometime soon' for them to be fixed. The word 'unimpressed' is inadequate, I can assure you.
Then he got his mate downstairs to give it one more test and it turns out it's fine - it's another floor that has the problem.
So I've spent the day trapped in my flat, pretty much achieving nothing, but at least I have an intercom again.
I feel all reconnected to the world....
The British Concept Of Service
So I'm at home this morning. I'm waiting for the people who are coming to make the intercom system in my block work again. It's been dead for weeks, and for weeks we've been hearing vague promises about when they're coming to do the work. But now, it's apparently really going to happen. I got home on Wednesday evening to find a note through the door announcing that the work will be done today, and that I should make myself available (they have to replace the handsets in each flat as well as the panel by the front door).
Of course, it doesn't say what time today - it just says Friday.
So after weeks of people coming to see me having to phone me when they're standing outside so that I can come down and let them in, at less than 48 hours notice, I have to 'make myself available', possibly all day, in order that they can once again provide a basic service to the building.
Sometimes I hate the attitude to service in this country.
New Who
Richard E Grant, apparently. Animated and online rather than live action and on-air, inevitably.
A Penetrating Conversation
(Lord knows what freakish searches this one's going to bring my way, but....)
I primarily seek input from my straight male readership here, but all opinions, as ever, are welcome.
There's been a bit of a discussion going on in a certain online circle about the joys or otherwise of anal sex. Quite a few straight men involved in this discussion have major problems with the idea of being on the receiving end of this innocuous practice as it might for instance be performed on them by their partners (using fingers, or toys of various types). I think (and have said as much,) that they really need to unclench a bit.
Adding a whole new dimension to this debate however, I was talking about this subject with a married couple I know, and Mrs Married is very keen to experiment on Mr Married with a dildo or vibrator, because she likes it so much when he explores her rear regions.
Mr Married refuses point blank to let her anywhere near said area with even so much as a finger. His objections are nothing to do with it being uncomfortable, nor with there being anything inherently wrong with the idea (he provides the service to Mrs, after all). No, the reason he doesn't want to be penetrated anally is....
....because he's afraid he might like it.
WTF???
So come on people - where do you stand (yes, all right) on this particular subject?
Cometh The Hour, Cometh The Manifesto
"The Tories are dead; IDS is a cooked goose; the prospect of a Gordon Brown succession still affrights many otherwise discontented backbenchers. The long summer break is only a week away: last night's foundation hospital vote shows backbenchers are restive, but it was a mere ripple compared with previous governments' internal strife. Despite everything, this government is rock safe. And that's its problem. Stagnation and stasis are in the summer air."
Polly Toynbee discusses what needs to be in Labour's new General Election Manifesto, given that a third Labour term seems inevitable, in today's Guardian.
A Question Of Queens
Odd incident: On Monday evening I was out for a drink with Dave and while he was at the bar, an American man came up to me from the other end of the place, passing several other drinkers to get to me. "Excuse me", he said. "Could you answer a question for my friend and I?"
"I can try" I replied.
"How does the whole thing with Kings and Queens work here? If Diana had lived, would it one day have been King Charles and Queen Diana? Does the partner of the King automatically become Queen?"
So I explained about how it works, and the horribly sexist thing about the husbands of Queens not being Kings, and he went back to his seat full of gratitude for having had the situation cleared up.
But he bypassed a bunch of other people to come and ask me this question specifically. What did he do, check out the whole pub thinking "Now who here looks like a constitutional expert? Ah - that bald guy in the corner's my man."?
Available - One Shoulder, Slightly Used
You know, sometimes I get really irritable about being the person who gets called in the middle of the night because someone's had a row, or taken aside for a chat while someone's having a crisis and then suddenly finding myself dealing with full-on hysteria. Sometimes I'd rather just not be that person.
It's annoying because I end up missing out on things - sleep, a lot of the time; peace and quiet every now and then; a night out for Mike's birthday yesterday evening.
Don't get me wrong - it's flattering, and obviously I'm happy to be a support, but it's just occasionally a little wearing....
Weekend In Review
Well, considering most of my weekends I struggle to find a single social thing to do, this one's come as a bit of a shock.
Friday night Alison and I went to see Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, which is a real laugh - much recommended for some mindless fun. I heard two very earnest panels of people over-analysing it like mad last week, shich indicates to me taht they've missed the point.
Saturday, I spent some time in town for the first time in a while, and caught up with some people, before heading out for a very nice evening to celebrate my friend Judith's birthday. When I remember the name of the place that we were I'll try to find a link, because I can certainly recommend it - a bar with a dining room attached in Maida Vale - great food and good wine.
And today after a slightly late start occasioned by last night's late finish, I joined the gang who all used to live on Limes Grove for the first get-together since Christmas. Ailsa and John now live in Sheffield, so we don't see them very often, and I also met Cathy and Courtney's baby for the first time. So we lunched long on Alison's deck, and were only mildly plagued at the end of the afternoon by flying ants.
So - it's flying ants day then.... grrr.
This evening I've been mostly working, which wasn't ideal but there you are, but in between times I took a look at the last couple of episodes of The West Wing Season Four, and they're pretty damn' good.
Hey ho. Off to bed.
Overdone? Maybe.
"As long as you have the authorised key with you, a touch of the door handle will be enough to unlock the car. With the key in the interior, the steering column lock will be released. When the start button is pushed the system will do a final check of the ID then start the engine. The key never has to leave your pocket. It is impossible to lock yourself out - it is not possible to lock the doors from the outside while the key is still inside the vehicle."
The website for Volkswagen's new Phaeton is quite the piece of work - a Macromedia Site of the Week in fact, but it's entirely possible that it's completely overshadowed by the car it describes. Oh my word.....
Busy Week
I can't quite work out where this week has gone. I don't seem to have had time to catch up with blogs, barely had time to catch up with the news, caught a bit of Wimbledon, but not a lot, just been occupied with work and that's about it. And yet it's been frustrating work rather than productive. Grrr.
And I've just had one of those 'tube train stops in the tunnel for twenty minutes for no stated reason at all' incidents.. Double Grrr.
Yes I Did
I deleted an entry that I posted last night. It's a thing that according to my own rules I'm not supposed to do, but I suddenly realised that some things that are done in the heat of an emotional moment can have an impact on people who aren't me, and that's not something I'm happy to be the cause of.
I'm just mentioning it in case people had already seen it and were wondering what had happened to it.