Wonderful...
Beautiful...
Profound...
Surprising...
| 1 Year Ago: | Twin town... |
Showing posts with label Camp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Camp. Show all posts
Sunday, 6 January 2013
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
A long weekend...
With both Friday and Monday off work, last weekend was a lovely and relaxing one spent mooching in and around Manchester with Howard. I managed to squeeze in several long runs along the Rochdale Canal and around Milnrow, we camped it up on Canal St, we saw some theatre and enjoyed a lengthy walk on Sunday around the local network of reservoirs.
Following a long run along the Canal and back into Milnrow, Friday was a lazy day spent reading, drinking and eating. I've not read any fiction in a while so how wonderful to get lost in Robert Harris' book, Fatherland. It's totally compelling. The evening dissolved into lots of wine, a lovely risotto and some plums stewed in sherry with cinnamon. Who'd have thought that sitting on my arse all day could be such fun? Heaven.
Saturday was spent in Manchester itself. After a scamper past the Christmas Market tat, a quick lunch and a detour to Harvey Nichols, where we drowned each other in Terre d'Hermès, we made our way to Canal St for a drink or two (well, maybe three or four). The evening was spent watching Dickie Beau's one man show, Blackouts: Twilight of the Idols. We really didn't know what to expect but I'm so pleased we saw it. Time Out described it as, "the drag show at the end of the world". It was funny and moving and absolutely gorgeous; well worth a trip to the end of the world and certainly worth the cock stride to the Contact Theatre down Oxford Road.
After a substantial breakfast on Sunday, we headed East out of Milnrow, under the M62 and toward the string of reservoirs in the hills. The weather was clear, the skies were blue and we weren't the only ones enjoying the unseasonably good weather.
Despite being reasonably fit, after Sunday's walk I had legs like whips. You certainly use different muscles on a 4 hr walk in the hills than you do when running, cycling or swimming. Negotiating stairs on Monday morning was a painful and dangerous activity.
Monday was a mirror to Friday; after an early morning run, I spent most of the day in a chilled state of relaxation; reading, drinking and eating. In the late afternoon we set off into Manchester, for me to get my train home to Welsh Wales. We stopped for a drink or three on Canal St to toast a splendid weekend.
I'll leave you with this performance by Dickie Beau that I found on You Tube. Go see him if you get the chance.
Following a long run along the Canal and back into Milnrow, Friday was a lazy day spent reading, drinking and eating. I've not read any fiction in a while so how wonderful to get lost in Robert Harris' book, Fatherland. It's totally compelling. The evening dissolved into lots of wine, a lovely risotto and some plums stewed in sherry with cinnamon. Who'd have thought that sitting on my arse all day could be such fun? Heaven.
Saturday was spent in Manchester itself. After a scamper past the Christmas Market tat, a quick lunch and a detour to Harvey Nichols, where we drowned each other in Terre d'Hermès, we made our way to Canal St for a drink or two (well, maybe three or four). The evening was spent watching Dickie Beau's one man show, Blackouts: Twilight of the Idols. We really didn't know what to expect but I'm so pleased we saw it. Time Out described it as, "the drag show at the end of the world". It was funny and moving and absolutely gorgeous; well worth a trip to the end of the world and certainly worth the cock stride to the Contact Theatre down Oxford Road.
After a substantial breakfast on Sunday, we headed East out of Milnrow, under the M62 and toward the string of reservoirs in the hills. The weather was clear, the skies were blue and we weren't the only ones enjoying the unseasonably good weather.Despite being reasonably fit, after Sunday's walk I had legs like whips. You certainly use different muscles on a 4 hr walk in the hills than you do when running, cycling or swimming. Negotiating stairs on Monday morning was a painful and dangerous activity.
Monday was a mirror to Friday; after an early morning run, I spent most of the day in a chilled state of relaxation; reading, drinking and eating. In the late afternoon we set off into Manchester, for me to get my train home to Welsh Wales. We stopped for a drink or three on Canal St to toast a splendid weekend.
I'll leave you with this performance by Dickie Beau that I found on You Tube. Go see him if you get the chance.
| 1 Year Ago: | My inner demon... |
Monday, 15 October 2012
A Berlin Diary...
+ Thursday 4th October
I arrive at Schönefeld Airport, southeast of the city, in the late afternoon amid darkening skies. After a 25 minute train journey through Ostbahnhof, Alexanderplatz and Friedrichstraße stations, I eventually arrive at the Hauptbahnhof. This is Berlin's main railway station and is known locally as the glass cathedral. Leaving the station in heavy rain and high winds, I can't help but think that were this the UK, they'd have issued a severe weather warning and cancelled the trains. This being Germany, everything runs smoothly and on time.
I walk the 5 minute journey across the bridge over the canal and down Invalidenstraße to the Adina Hotel. Thanks to an email from Howard pointing out that I turn 50 during my stay, I've been upgraded... Yay! After unpacking, I trace my planned running route for the week. I shelter from the drizzle to enjoy a lovely pasta dish (with much red wine) at Roma, a basic Italian restaurant on Friedrichstraße before retracing my steps to the hotel and retiring to bed.
+ Friday 5th October
My early morning run down through the Tiergarten and back up through the Brandenburg Gate, past the Reichstag and over the Spree is, quite literally, breathtaking. After a wonderful breakfast, the morning consists of a visit to the house in Schöneberg where Christopher Isherwood rented a room and wrote his Berlin novels. This I follow by a skip past Neues Ufer, the gay bar Bowie and Iggy Pop once hung out at.
The afternoon sees me visit every Zara outlet in Berlin in search of a check shirt that I first saw in Cardiff. My quest isn't a complete waste of time: I see Pariser Platz, Potsdamer Platz, Leipziger Platz, Alexanderplatz and everything in between. I think I even pass Marlene Dietrich Platz at one point (but maybe I'm dreaming). I'm thrilled and excited to discover that Alexanderplatz has a branch of C&A (this takes me back...).
That night I eat in Pas´Qua, a tiny basement Italian on Auguststraße. Lovely food and, again, too much red wine. As I totter up the road, I pass an upmarket fancy-dress shop called Maskworld on Oranienburger Straße. I leave 5 minutes later with a ginger afro on which I've just spent €45. The hidden costs of drinking!
+ Saturday 6th October
A very early run, accompanied (part way) by a fox along the Spree embankment, is followed by my first of 3 visits over the coming week to the Reichstag (don't ask). The weather is awful and so views from the dome are non existent, however, you cannot fail to be impressed by the building itself. This, in turn, I follow with a brisk but damp walk to Berliner Dom, taking in Gendarmenmarkt (very neoclassical) and Bebelplatz (very wrapped in scaffolding) along the way. Berliner Dom is a very big church and, other than that, I can't find much else to recommend it.
Next, a visit to the Museum of Photography: If you like huge prints of 70s style glamour shots of nude women, this place is heaven. I don't and it isn't. This is followed by a visit to the Contemporary Art Museum, housed at Hamburger Bahnhof (some impressive Warholes and a couple of Lichtensteins keep me happy). In the evening to the Berliner Philharmonie for a wonderful performance of Wagner and Beethoven by the Berliner Philharmoniker led by Bernard Haitink. I float on air all the way back to my hotel.
+ Sunday 7th October
After an early run and a long lazy breakfast, a morning walk to the house Bertolt Brecht and Helen Weigel shared on Chauseestraße. Today Howard joins me in Berlin. At midday I meet him at the Hauptbahnhof and then to Hackesche Höfe for brunch together. This is followed by a leisurely stroll through the Tiergarten, past the embassies, the Sony Centre, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism, the Führerbunker (site of Hitler's bunker), the Brandenburg Gate and, finally, my 2nd visit to the Reichstag - very atmospheric in the failing light. The evening sees us eat at the basic Italian, Roma, I'd visited on my first night in Berlin.
+ Monday 8th October
A quick run and breakfast is followed by a trip to Alexanderplatz for a visit to the beautiful Fernsehturm. Great views but I'm more impressed with the 1960s GDR decor inside. Next a train to the East Side Gallery then back to Alexanderplatz for the DDR Museum and a chance to sit in a Trabant - very cramped. From here, a train to the Olympiastadion - undoubtedly a beautiful building; epic, simple, strong and impressive but ultimately, I can't help but feel, rather sinister.
In the evening we eat in Kellerrestaurant im Brechthaus; it occupies the cellar of the house Bertolt Brecht and Helene Weigel shared and which I visited the day before. Lots of photos of Brecht and some wonderful food, made all the better by the friendly staff and the fact that they cook vegetarian dishes especially for me because they have little vegetarian choice on the menu.
+ Tuesday 9th October
Today I am 50. I never thought I'd live so long! This thought occupies me as I run around the Reichstag. A shower, a long breakfast and some card opening and gift unwrapping before we head out to the Pergamon Museum. This museum is seriously impressive with its Pergamon Gate, Market Gate of Miletus and Ishtar Gate - all massive in size; they really take your breath away.
We then hot-foot it to the Neues Museum in search of the bust of Nefertiti, followed by a quick visit to the Alte Nationalgalerie. In the afternoon we trek out to the Schwules (Gay) Museum but it's closed - out and proud 7 days a week apart from Tuesdays when it's a bit closeted! Still, a pleasant walk and a welcome relief from the objet d'art. Back at the hotel for a quick dip and sauna before getting a taxi to Alpenstuek, a restaurant on Gartenstraße. A lovely evening thanks to Howard. Happy birthday to me!
+ Wednesday 10th October
After whipping around the Reichstag on my run, we head out to the excellent Bauhaus Archive. This is followed by a marathon trek around the Gemäldegalerie's 900 paintings. Ordered chronologically, the Medieval religious art is wonderful but as we progress into later eras, I have to admit, I become blind to these masterpieces. By the time I get to Rubens I give up. Gluttons for punishment, we press on to the Neue Nationalgalerie, which by this point, quite frankly, we couldn't care less about. In the afternoon we visit the Jewish Museum, which is excellent and, at times, quite moving. It's worth a visit, not only for the contents but also the architecture of the building.
In the evening we make our way to Potsdammerplatz for the opening ceremony of the Festival of Lights. It's lovely to stand in the crowd and enjoy the spectacle. We take in some of the monuments and buildings bathed in various lighting effects as we make our way from Potsdammerplatz to Pariserplatz and onwards to Friedrichstraße and eventually Pas´Qua, the tiny basement Italian on Auguststraße that I'd eaten in on Friday. We are rewarded with good food and some unexpected entertainment, as the kitchen staff argue quite audibly.
+ Thursday 11th October
After my run, we decide to pop into the Bode Museum, as we have some spare time in the morning. The building is more impressive than the art it contains. We then visit the Reichstag (my 3rd and final visit) for a guided tour, which is fascinating. The dome is closed for cleaning but we've already been there (twice!). In the afternoon we visit the Berlinische Galerie, which I've been looking forward to seeing, with its late 19th and 20th Century collection of art. Difficult and sometime bleak pieces covering some troubled times for this city.
After a shower back at the hotel we make our way to Tipi am Kranzleramt in the Tiergarten for a cabaret dinner and a show by the excellent Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. Very funny and entertaining. To bed, happy and a little bit drunk.
+ Friday 12th October
My last run around the Reichstag. The weather is beautiful. After a relaxed breakfast, we pack and check out. We spend the morning strolling through the Tiergarten and then along the Spree in the cold and clear sunshine. By lunchtime we're back at the hotel to pick up our bags before heading off out to Schönefeld Airport.
Our flights are about an hour apart: me to Bristol then Howard to Liverpool. I leave Berlin not just a year older but having somehow slipped past a half century on this earth. It has been a lovely holiday - a time to relax, unwind and ponder what this new chapter of my life will bring. During my daily runs around the Reichstag, I have thought long about concentrating on becoming a more responsible and mature person; a thought, I'm happy to say, I have whole-heartedly rejected.
I arrive at Schönefeld Airport, southeast of the city, in the late afternoon amid darkening skies. After a 25 minute train journey through Ostbahnhof, Alexanderplatz and Friedrichstraße stations, I eventually arrive at the Hauptbahnhof. This is Berlin's main railway station and is known locally as the glass cathedral. Leaving the station in heavy rain and high winds, I can't help but think that were this the UK, they'd have issued a severe weather warning and cancelled the trains. This being Germany, everything runs smoothly and on time.I walk the 5 minute journey across the bridge over the canal and down Invalidenstraße to the Adina Hotel. Thanks to an email from Howard pointing out that I turn 50 during my stay, I've been upgraded... Yay! After unpacking, I trace my planned running route for the week. I shelter from the drizzle to enjoy a lovely pasta dish (with much red wine) at Roma, a basic Italian restaurant on Friedrichstraße before retracing my steps to the hotel and retiring to bed.
+ Friday 5th October
My early morning run down through the Tiergarten and back up through the Brandenburg Gate, past the Reichstag and over the Spree is, quite literally, breathtaking. After a wonderful breakfast, the morning consists of a visit to the house in Schöneberg where Christopher Isherwood rented a room and wrote his Berlin novels. This I follow by a skip past Neues Ufer, the gay bar Bowie and Iggy Pop once hung out at.
The afternoon sees me visit every Zara outlet in Berlin in search of a check shirt that I first saw in Cardiff. My quest isn't a complete waste of time: I see Pariser Platz, Potsdamer Platz, Leipziger Platz, Alexanderplatz and everything in between. I think I even pass Marlene Dietrich Platz at one point (but maybe I'm dreaming). I'm thrilled and excited to discover that Alexanderplatz has a branch of C&A (this takes me back...).That night I eat in Pas´Qua, a tiny basement Italian on Auguststraße. Lovely food and, again, too much red wine. As I totter up the road, I pass an upmarket fancy-dress shop called Maskworld on Oranienburger Straße. I leave 5 minutes later with a ginger afro on which I've just spent €45. The hidden costs of drinking!
+ Saturday 6th October
A very early run, accompanied (part way) by a fox along the Spree embankment, is followed by my first of 3 visits over the coming week to the Reichstag (don't ask). The weather is awful and so views from the dome are non existent, however, you cannot fail to be impressed by the building itself. This, in turn, I follow with a brisk but damp walk to Berliner Dom, taking in Gendarmenmarkt (very neoclassical) and Bebelplatz (very wrapped in scaffolding) along the way. Berliner Dom is a very big church and, other than that, I can't find much else to recommend it.
Next, a visit to the Museum of Photography: If you like huge prints of 70s style glamour shots of nude women, this place is heaven. I don't and it isn't. This is followed by a visit to the Contemporary Art Museum, housed at Hamburger Bahnhof (some impressive Warholes and a couple of Lichtensteins keep me happy). In the evening to the Berliner Philharmonie for a wonderful performance of Wagner and Beethoven by the Berliner Philharmoniker led by Bernard Haitink. I float on air all the way back to my hotel.+ Sunday 7th October
+ Monday 8th October
In the evening we eat in Kellerrestaurant im Brechthaus; it occupies the cellar of the house Bertolt Brecht and Helene Weigel shared and which I visited the day before. Lots of photos of Brecht and some wonderful food, made all the better by the friendly staff and the fact that they cook vegetarian dishes especially for me because they have little vegetarian choice on the menu.
+ Tuesday 9th October
Today I am 50. I never thought I'd live so long! This thought occupies me as I run around the Reichstag. A shower, a long breakfast and some card opening and gift unwrapping before we head out to the Pergamon Museum. This museum is seriously impressive with its Pergamon Gate, Market Gate of Miletus and Ishtar Gate - all massive in size; they really take your breath away.We then hot-foot it to the Neues Museum in search of the bust of Nefertiti, followed by a quick visit to the Alte Nationalgalerie. In the afternoon we trek out to the Schwules (Gay) Museum but it's closed - out and proud 7 days a week apart from Tuesdays when it's a bit closeted! Still, a pleasant walk and a welcome relief from the objet d'art. Back at the hotel for a quick dip and sauna before getting a taxi to Alpenstuek, a restaurant on Gartenstraße. A lovely evening thanks to Howard. Happy birthday to me!
+ Wednesday 10th October
After whipping around the Reichstag on my run, we head out to the excellent Bauhaus Archive. This is followed by a marathon trek around the Gemäldegalerie's 900 paintings. Ordered chronologically, the Medieval religious art is wonderful but as we progress into later eras, I have to admit, I become blind to these masterpieces. By the time I get to Rubens I give up. Gluttons for punishment, we press on to the Neue Nationalgalerie, which by this point, quite frankly, we couldn't care less about. In the afternoon we visit the Jewish Museum, which is excellent and, at times, quite moving. It's worth a visit, not only for the contents but also the architecture of the building.
+ Thursday 11th October
After my run, we decide to pop into the Bode Museum, as we have some spare time in the morning. The building is more impressive than the art it contains. We then visit the Reichstag (my 3rd and final visit) for a guided tour, which is fascinating. The dome is closed for cleaning but we've already been there (twice!). In the afternoon we visit the Berlinische Galerie, which I've been looking forward to seeing, with its late 19th and 20th Century collection of art. Difficult and sometime bleak pieces covering some troubled times for this city.After a shower back at the hotel we make our way to Tipi am Kranzleramt in the Tiergarten for a cabaret dinner and a show by the excellent Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. Very funny and entertaining. To bed, happy and a little bit drunk.
+ Friday 12th October
My last run around the Reichstag. The weather is beautiful. After a relaxed breakfast, we pack and check out. We spend the morning strolling through the Tiergarten and then along the Spree in the cold and clear sunshine. By lunchtime we're back at the hotel to pick up our bags before heading off out to Schönefeld Airport.
Our flights are about an hour apart: me to Bristol then Howard to Liverpool. I leave Berlin not just a year older but having somehow slipped past a half century on this earth. It has been a lovely holiday - a time to relax, unwind and ponder what this new chapter of my life will bring. During my daily runs around the Reichstag, I have thought long about concentrating on becoming a more responsible and mature person; a thought, I'm happy to say, I have whole-heartedly rejected.| 1 Year Ago: | A strange day... |
Saturday, 21 July 2012
Briefs...
Their performance is a remarkable mix of foul mouthed cabaret with an added splash of circus and a generous orgasmic squirt of camp. Muscles are flexed, eyelashes are batted, buttocks are clenched and tongues are firmly placed in cheeks. I guarantee that you've never seen anything like it!
I've been to a number of Blysh Festival performances over the past few years and I've seen a number of cabaret acts. I've never been disappointed but Briefs' performance last night moved things to a new high. They have certainly raised the bar.I, along with everyone else at last night's performance, laughed like a drain from beginning to end; marveling at these boys' athleticism and irreverent wit whilst ogling their beefcake, buffed up bodies.
If you like a bit of camp, if you enjoy cabaret, if you've got a sense of humour or even if, at some basic level, you consider yourself to be alive; beg, steal or borrow to get a ticket to see this life affirming spectacle. They've got one final performance in Cardiff tonight before continuing with their UK tour.
Go and see them; you won't be disappointed. Promise.
| 1 Year Ago: | Elaine Carmody fights for your rights... |
| Run 20/07/2012 17:14 | |||
| Distance | 5:16 km | Time | 29:35 |
| Pace | 5:44 min/km | Cadence | 80 spm |
| Comments: Sunny. | |||
| Run 18/07/2012 17:19 | |||
| Distance | 5.02 km | Time | 27:33 |
| Pace | 5:29 min/km | Cadence | 81 spm |
| Comments: Sunny. | |||
Friday, 22 June 2012
Judy, Judy, Judy...
Forty three years ago today Judy Garland died. It was 1969 and her 5th husband, Mickey Deans (whom she'd only married in March of that year), discovered her body in her rented apartment in Chelsea, London.The cause of death was an overdose of barbituates and debate rages as to whether this overdose was accidental or intentional. Her Wizard of Oz co-star Ray Bolger commented at her funeral, "She just plain wore out."
Garland had always had a large gay following and that increased following her death. It is said that the increased emotion around grieving for her was partly responsible for the Stonewall Riots in Greenwich Village, New York City in the early hours of June 29th (her funeral took place June 28th). The Stonewall Riots are cited as the birth place of the modern gay movement, "when the drag queens and faggots fought back" against the police raids.
Everybody has their favorite Judy film. For many it will be The Wizard of Oz, for others it will be Meet Me in St Louis. For me it has to be A Star is Born. Her performance of The Man that Got Away is perfection.
But not quite as good as mine...
Monday, 9 April 2012
Wow...
And so it was to Wow Bar in Cardiff last night. If you dislike noise, crowds, swearing, drag queens and go-go dancers then this won't be for you. On those occasions when I need to get out of the house and (if I had any) let my hair down, I like Wow.By far the best drag queen they have there is Pixie Perez. Pixie is unlike the other drag queens, in that the routine doesn't seem staged, is anarchic and it feels quite dangerous - like anything could happen (and it sometimes does). I've seen her chase passers by down the road and, although her audience have long lost sight of her, her hilarious obscenities can still be heard over the speakers via her radio mic.
On a Sunday night, the crowd is heaving, the atmosphere's great, the eye candy's pleasant, the air is blue, the jokes are course, the go-go boys are buff, the humour's cruel - and it's all done in the best possible taste! Well worth dropping in on those Sundays when you just need to blow out.
You can find more photos such as the one above on Wow Bar's Facebook page.
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Camp as tits...
A friend of mine from my college days used to use the phrase, camp as tits to describe anything that he thought was really camp. I could never work out why female secondary sexual characteristics should be camp (unless some guy is wearing a false pair perhaps - which, I guess, is what he meant) but I like the phrase anyway.Whilst most of us recognise it when we see it, defining camp is not easy. The Oxford English Dictionary gives it the following definition: ostentatious, exaggerated, affected, theatrical; effeminate or homosexual; pertaining to, characteristic of, homosexuals. In Susan Sontag's essay Notes on 'Camp', she emphasises artifice, frivolity, naïve middle-class pretentiousness and shocking excess as key elements of camp. In his book, Camp, Mark Booth defines it as "to present oneself as being committed to the marginal with a commitment greater than the marginal merits."
All of the following may be considered camp: Judy Garland, Bette Davis, Bette Midler, Carry On films, the films of John Waters, The Munsters, The Addams Family, Dynasty, Dallas, the 1960s TV series of Batman, Absolutely Fabulous, British panto, drag, retro fashion, the 1970s, musical theatre, John Inman, Dale Winton, Russell Harty, Kenneth Williams, The Eurovision Song Contest, Eurotrash, ABBA, Cilla Black, Liberace, Marlene Dietrich and, of course, Kylie Minogue. I'm sure you could come up with as many yourself in just a couple of minutes.
Search on any of the above in YouTube and you'll see enough examples of camp to make you a world wide authority on the subject. Alternatively, you might just want to watch this example I came across recently which does it for me...
| Today's run at 17:17 | |||
| Distance | 4.07 km | Time | 21:32 |
| Pace | 5:18 min/km | Cadence | 83 spm |
Friday, 28 October 2011
How gay does that sound..?
What is it that makes some men sound camp? Delving beyond the stereotypical weak R, lisp or high pitched squeal, what exactly is it that denotes a somewhat less than butch voice?Compare the voices of the following gay men: Kenneth Williams, Frankie Howard, John Inman, Julian Clary, Graham Norton, Dale Winton and Boy George. Although they're all very different voices, there's no mistaking them as anything other than camp sounding. Of course all the above mentioned are performers and their voices are manufactured to a certain degree. Nevertheless, they portray a truth, albeit an amplified and distorted truth, refracted rather than reflected.
What makes a voice sound camp? Is it an over enunciation, an elongation of certain vowel sounds, a pervading sibilance or a languid louchness in pronounciation? Could it be where the voice is produced from? I think that certain voices which originate at the back of the throat as opposed to the gut sound more camp. This is a technique that Julian Clary employs and was also used by (for those of you who remember) Danny La Rue. Could it be a musicality of tone that's the distinguishing factor? Frankie Howard and John Inman displayed this trait; their voices soared and swooped through octaves from one pitch to another. Graham Norton emphasises the musicality of his vocal delivery in a similar fashion.
Accent and dialect play a part. In themselves they are neither camp nor butch but in conjunction with other vocal effects they can accentuate campness. Paul O'Grady used this to great effect in his creation of Lily Savage. Sometimes campness can be found in someone trying to change their accent. In Peter Nichols play, Privates On Parade, he describes Terri's accent as, "Shaftsbury Avenue pasted over Lancashire". Similarly Boy George's voice betrays his aspirations to a more refined image, likewise Dale Winton.
Kenneth Williams was the master of all these techniques; accent manipulation, monumental pitch bending shifts and grotesque vowel elongation to the point of completely distorting everything he said. Yet he kept his homosexuality under wraps. Or so he thought. How could he be anything other than queer with a voice like that?
Of course, not all gay men speak with camp voices. And equally, not all straight men enjoy a furniture rumbling, bass, butch timbre. Listen to Little Britain creators, Matt Lucas and David Walliams in interview and it is heterosexual Walliams who sounds camp and not homosexual Lucas.
Could it be that these subtle vocal clues are some of the elements our subconscience tunes into when we first meet someone? When we talk about gaydar we usually refer to visual clues but surely the aural clues should not be underestimated?
Friday, 7 October 2011
It's the freakiest show...
You know when you get a song stuck in your head and you can't shift it; that's what happened to me tonight on my run. Round and round it went in my head as I quietly hummed/sang my way through it time and again, much to the bemusement of the people I saw on my run around the Bay.Sailors fighting in the dance hallBowie's Life on Mars was one of the first singles I ever bought. Aged eleven, I can remember hearing it for the first time and being totally mesmerised by it and by him. I remember watching him on Top of the Pops and seeing that look of bewilderment on my Dad's face. This only served to heighten my interest in this alien stranded on earth (a role he was to play 3 years later in The Man Who Fell to Earth).
Oh man! Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the Lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?
In the 1970s we'd never seen anything like it; the cross dressing, the make-up, the casual admission of bisexuality, the futuristic sounds and the tantalising lyrics. We were entranced.
As for my humming/singing Life On Mars, which was stuck in my head as I ran tonight - I guess it could have been worse; I could've been singing Shaddup You Face.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Nun's the word...
I noticed this morning that Sister Act was scheduled to be screened (yet again) on Film 4 tonight. I love Sister Act. I've seen it countless times but never from the beginning. I'd intended to watch it from the beginning for the first time tonight, however, I got stuck in work and didn't really think about it until I was home, changed and about 5 minutes into my run.What is it about nuns that I find so funny? The nuns in The Sound of Music are often the butt of jokes. There are other films; serious films that feature nuns which make me smile such as, The Nun's Story, Black Narcissus and The Song of Bernadette. That's without naming the numerous comedy films to feature nuns. In fact, the only nun film that I haven't ended up sniggering at is The Magdalene Sisters; a harrowing experience from beginning to end.
There's an order of nuns called the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. They were founded by gay men in San Fransisco in the 1970s; they use drag and catholic imagery to draw attention to LGBT issues and to raise money for related causes. Often to be seen in an outlandish wimple, complete with full habit and on rollerskates, the order has a structure, including a Mother Inferior, and a number of saints. The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence rollerskate but I wonder if real nuns jog?
By the time I returned from my run, Deloris Van Cartier had transformed into Sister Mary Clarence and I'd missed the beginning of Sister Act, yet again. However, as I sat down to eat my dinner they started to sing Oh Maria and as I continued to eat the film played out before me. I finished eating just in time to sing along to I Will Follow Him.
I'm in rapture now...
Sunday, 14 August 2011
Camp as tits...
Considering I didn't go to bed until nearly 1am, it came as a complete shock to find myself wide awake at 6am this morning. I lay there for a while just blinking with that look of "Where am I?" writ large across my face. I rolled around for a while trying to get comfortable but failed. Losing patience with myself, I eventually got up. In a big stomp-around fairy huff!Bored, I cycled over to the pool for a swim at 8am. The International Pool was open at its full 50m and, as I could've predicted for that time of the morning, it was mega busy. I shared a lane with some guy who looked as if he was training for the Olympics in 2012. He'd brought all his accoutrement with him: water bottle, flippers, kickboard, pullbuoy and stopwatch. I felt intimidated before I got in. I would have perved at his body a little more had he not sped past me each time like a hydrofoil passing a pedalo.
One cycle ride home, two cups of strong coffee and a bowl of porridge made with nutmeg later and I was ready to begin the day. I spent an hour or two looking at Istanbul related content on the Internet, in preparation for my upcoming holiday there. I'm compiling a list of things I want to see and do, so if anyone's been and wants to give me some suggestions of things not to miss, I'd be very grateful. And I'm not sure what to pack because of certain mores around dress codes they have (especially when entering a mosque). I won't be packing the hotpants and rollerblades, then...
I chatted with my friend, Alan, on Skype who was loving the jeans I'd helped him choose yesterday (I'm still not convinced of my part as his style guru). It seems that last night he and a few mates saw the Bette Davis and Joan Crawford classic, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? This is one of my favorite films; both stylish and gauche at the same time. It's great to see that it's still providing enjoyment to new audiences. I'll leave you with this performance from Bette Davis on the Andy Williams show in 1962 promoting Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? She can't sing in time or tune but she's still one of the greatest divas to walk the face of this earth. Camp as tits...!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)