Dear Diary

Warning: This post is not camp. Is not happy or entertaining. So if that's why you read, then read no further, 'cos this is the warts and all shit. You have been warned. (The post about DIVAS under this one is very funny, so take the time to read that and ignore this depressing crap. I just need to get it out.)

The Deep Down Unhappy of Me

So it's been some time in coming, but I am writing this now cos it's taking over me. I have been unhappy in one part of me for a while. I have been growing into a different shape. Not a totally new person, but just changing with the path of my life. Since I started at Manacle my life has changed so much. I have become aware of and connected to a broader gay community that I am growing to love and feel at home in. Much more than I do in student politics, the left, etc. I feel that I bloom in the more positive areas of this scene. I feel alive and free and inspired in a way I never felt previously in my life. I have all these new hopes and desires about my life to do with work and the future and stuff. I imagine myself working in the gay community, in the entertainment industry, or something else, and I hope to make some life-long friends and connections in these areas. So why unhappy?

I feel that my household and my lifestyle might be incompatible with this. But I am also unsure... I must start by saying how much I love my flatmates and my house in general, but there's a clash that won't settle. There's a feeling that I am an outsider. That I don't fit in. And, perhaps more importantly, that I am living a double life. There are also ways in which the house opperates that are opposed to what I would really like to have. It's not any particular rules or factors, just a general feeling that we want different things. Have different priorities, etc.

Tonight I got home and sat on the stairs and just cried. Everyone was out for Liz's dinner before she went to Alice. No one had mentioned this to me, or reminded me that she was leaving tomorrow. (Sure it's probably my responsibility to check these things, but an sms earlier would have made things easier and likely changed my actions today (monday)). Anyway, I cried. Dramatically, and coming down, I felt that I must have been the lonliest person in the world just at that moment. Sure it's probably the "rugs" talking, but I felt so isolated.

Yes, I'd love to live with people also go out, and also take drugs, and are weak sometimes and not so dedicated to the "proper things" they do. (That is not meant to be opposed to current housemates, just to explain a feeling.)

But this is just a minor issue. Most important is my relationship. It's been a long time since I have even written anything bad about mine and Jorja's relationship. I mostly only write the good things to avoid making her uncomforatble, or "airing my dirty laundry" as they say. So it may seem that things are all ok to the outside. But they are not. Since I have started regular nights out, the fights have not stopped. I feel like a constant disappointment and strain to Jorja. Like there is no real understanding of the fact that I have changed and moved into this life of gaybos, and that it's not likely to be a phase, but a life-long love affair. Not neccessarily with "rugs", but with the camp and gayness of it. I may only be attending stuff at the moment, but I do hope to be more involved in organising, etc in the social scene in future.

Mean time, this is my life. And I like it. I like my life the way it is. My little habbits and routines. Working, going out, drinking with friends after work or at Deckbar, or whatever. And I like sponteneity. I like going out not knowing when I will come home, ending up at people's houses and getting to know new poeple. Drinking in bars in the late afternoon...

Is this incompatible to having a partner at all? Or just a partner that you live with?

I feel so torn about my relationship. I love Jorja, but I also feel hopelessly different and apart from her. There's a gap between us that I feel that the love cannot bridge that is always there for me. I feel terrible because when we got together, I did enjoy that really close thing. That everyday kind of relationship. But now I just feel like I am breaking her heart all the time and I feel that it's unsustainable.

I don't want to live in guilt. I want to be free to make decisions in this part of my life that are for me, and not have to take someone else's needs and desires so much into account when deciding what to do each day/night/hour. But it's more than that. I feel like I can no longer fulfil those needs and, more importantly, I worry that I have lost the compulsion to do so.

I know there is no quick-fix answer. I am not sure what to do about this. I just wanted to get my feelings out there and would appreciate any advice. I don't really believe that it would be healthy for me to keep that all private at the moment. I am going to stay at my mumma's house tomorrow and chat to her. She's very wise and believes in the same kinds of things as me, and might be able to help.

e

Concentration Camp!

(Disclaimer: I know this is a racially insensitive pun, but I am going to leave it for two reasons. 1. It was said to me at the time by a gay Aboriginal man who was fully aware of the racist connotations, and, in fact, (this is point 2) the concept is sadly and ironically suitable. By which I refer to the association of gay nightclubs with prisons or concentration camps. You take the queers, shunt them into a small dark room, and drug them into submission... that kind of thing. I do not really agree with this perspective, but I understand why many people feel it. I know this doesn't erase the culturally specific connotations of the pun, and if there is anyone who is personally offended by it, plead your case in a comment and I'll probably be happy to remove it. Persoanlly I still think it's quite a deep and interesting pun.)

Don’t cry for me Argentina!
The truth is I never left you.
All through my wild days,
My mad existence,
I kept my promise.
Don’t keep your distance…

Diva Drag Industry Awards, 2005

Floor K – sparkling, hot! J says: You get more from the floor.

A stunned mullet in a strapless diamonte dress, I stumbled out of the house to meet Daniel on Monday night to crash the Diva after-party at Arq. Had been offered a ticket to Divas and stupidly turned it down (no one to sit with, etc, too scared, couldn’t be bothered…. Grow up!) Anyway, there’s always next year… (Vote Dan.) Had a nice time swanning around waiting for the glammed-up staff from the Shift to come back from Divas. (They were all so handsome in their black-tie formals! Dan Murphy so quaint in shirt and vest and well-tailored pants…very 50’s - camp) And they all smelled so good, not at all like Tequila and Manacle smell. (All together now to the tune of “Daddy Cool”: Mani-Manacle, Mani-Manacle. I’m crazy like a fool, Mani-Manacle!)

But let’s back-track a second…

SUNDAY - I had been at work all day, home for Luke’s civilised birthday wine and cheese fiasco. (Mostly civilised: “Luke! Lil Rach! Daniel and I need you upstairs for a … um, tour of the house…yeah, a tour of the house you live in…that’s it.”) After the lovely work-mates left it was time to pretty-up. Boys in the downstairs bathroom, girls up top – eye liner, mascara, hats…) Aren’t we hot, etc, blah blah, weren’t we well behaved for the straights. Lines and shots time! Lines and shots! Mmm, vodka! Is this inane? Anyway, moving on.

We did Arq, we did Dayclub – happy and stupid – “Someone left my cake out in the rain” - and then went to Oxford. Later, met Jamie for pool and I won! That was the only game of pool I won all weekend. The rest lost largely due to my bad habit of sinking the white on the black. Drinks, chats, then into a cab to get ready for the Divas after party – Bitch and Boast. McCosker and I started the evening off with a few comfy bumps and a nice drink. Nancy Boy was extremely excited to be out of the house again and even acquired a bow tie for him on the balcony at Arq. Hot!

The boys rollicked into A’s apartment – nice – and we noticed that R was a little tipsy. It wasn’t until I’d handed him the two that I realised he was completely maggotted. Oh, Oh. Needless to say, he was late to the party at Arq after having his head in a bucket. But better late than never and looking for fun!

ARQ – BITCH and BOAST – campo-rama!

I thought I had seen camp – camp people, camp spaces, I thought Deckbar was camp, but Bitch and Boast was breaking my camp-o-meter. I stood in the corner of the extremely over-crowed night club, sardined, as skinny drag queens sashayed past in their angular fashion, boys in suits and fake moustaches got heavy in the corners, big fat funny drag queens squealed and bitched, Divas in flowing sequined dresses flew past with superior glares, screaming queens and g-freaks with no pants tumbled through the crowd – oh my god. My campo-meter exploded and all I could do was stare, dumb-founded as I got jostled, saw two people falling on g through the crowd and did nothing…said to myself – this is a circus, and we are all animals. John bought me a drink and various people asked me if I was ok – all I could manage in the loudness with my strained voice was “The spectacle! I am in awe…” That seemed to suffice for explanation.



Then I found it. On the floor. Sparkling up at me. Hello… Yoink! A big, fresh, full, clean bag o joy. And joy it turned out to be. The joyest!

The rest was a fabulous whirling, sparkling, screaming, tumbling ride to campsville. We were all bound for moo moo land, and the campfire had started to build. When upstairs closed, I liked it better. Everyone I knew was close together now, and Dan had the flock he deserved. And what an effort! It seemed he played for hours, bringing joy and building the campfire till it was raging. He even had the balls to play the Spice Girls – and get away with it. Me and K (in flouncy blue dress, pretty as a picture) were partners in crime, sampling the floor merchandise to check it for safety and quality. Jack pot! It was by far the best I had had, and K agreed that it was top shelf.

K-Robics ahoy! K and I swanned around with stupid grins and excited “heaving bosoms”, step-clap, step-clap, one-two, three-four. J finally made it and got happy. Arq had its soul and was going off. There must have been a butcher in the house. Everybody was far more off chops than usual, and far be it from me to swim against the tide… (And I certainly was swimming.) Wow, I am mixing my metaphors and it’s getting quite confusing… I can’t keep up with me. Here's a gratuitous superfluous picture of someone dancing:



Renee was funny and David was back and looking hot with big hair. So hot! J and I sat on the couch on the stage and giggled at their shenanigans for a while. Then J whirled-off to cha cha on the corner of the stage again – he’s not a bad dancer at all – quite camp with the cha cha moves and only occasional lawn-mower tendencies. Daniel had to leave at four precisely. I feel for him. His workplace doesn’t have a Divas time-off policy and he had to brave it on little-to-none. What an effort! Well, we’re all hard-working party animals. I think some people don’t appreciate how much energy and determination it takes to be this dedicated. To keep the dream alive.

But the dream was well and truly alive at Arq on Tuesday morning. Dan Murphy signing in his way to “don’t cry for me Argentina” in the box. Happy happy stupid stupid. I was the Fairy-k-Mother to a fair few and still have not seen the bottom!

BUT! (And yes, I know you’re exhausted just reading this, have a line. You gotta be on something to even read about this marathon weekend!) IT GOT CAMPER!

If Arq was a Campfire, then Stonewall was a Concentration Camp. The community had been distilled, fortified, into a single room with the windows covered in red paper. A horrible red light lit the upstairs, but the music was yellow and hot pink campness, as people filed in and filled the space, sitting on window sills, each other and the floor. And dancing and posing. Queens in ripped dresses and limp wigs, g-freaks lurching – one in pyjama pants and a Vote Tanya Plibersek tshirt! (I wanted to got up to him and say – you are bringing shame upon The Party!)

Two boys in tuxedo jackets and undies, one of whom kept “pointing” at Dan Murphy – how rude! And one boy tying up a g-freak next to us with electrical tape around feet and hands and over the mouth to sit in happy stupidity until Dan Murphy wanders up and politely suggests “Free the Refugees?” Classic.

Arq staff were interrupted to clean up some Arq mess in the toilets, but Renee was back and camp as soon as the problem was dealt with – well done. It was lovely to have her off duty, and to have J in fine form.

I took G (the person, not the drug) for his medicine and a fussing queen in the toilets yells out “This dress is the bain marie of my life!” The after-after-party continued in campness till midday and ended with an impromptu drag show from someone whose name I forgot who got up on a table in a full-length gown and fluffy slippers (heels discarded some time ago) and mimed, off-tits, to some extremely camp song that I don’t know but I’m sure I will by next year’s Divas. She nearly got knocked-off by various over-enthusiastic g-freaks – someone should put those ones on a leash, tie them to a rope-run or a hook in the wall… At the dramatic conclusion of the song she actually fell off. Cluttering to the floor onto a pile of fans.

And with that the Divas were over for me. (I chose not to go to the after-after-after-party, drinking at the Shift and getting aquainted with the assistant licencee instead, who was very interesting…) I had crashed the party rather successfully and next year I fully intend on attending the awards in a floor-length gown of my own.

Divas weekend made me realise one thing for sure. This is not a phase. I am camp and I must be with my own kind.

Vol-au-vents and My PhD Thesis

Hello readers. This is a post to acknowledge the other side of my life, the currently neglected side - my academic work. This week I have actually got some done and so I want to post my chapter plan for my thesis. Any feedback or clarifications are totally welcome.

Other things on my mind at the moment are: what will I wear out on sunday night? And what hors d'oeuvres to make for Luke's wine and cheese evening... I'm thinking it's been a while since mini vol-au-vents... and pizza pinwheels might be nice... and of course dips and chesses... fruit platter? maybe that's just going too far...

anyway

Thesis Chapter Plan

The Beautiful Dregs: Chemical Palace and Sydney's Queer Dance Party Culture

The thesis as a whole will be about recording thebeginningss of the queer dance party culture we now have. Using Fiona McGregor's 2002 novel, Chemical Palace, I will consider various aspects of this culture as it was in the 1980s and 90s, finally coming to the questions: is this culture dying? and how has it changed?

1. Place - Chemical Palace as Queer Urban Geography

This chapter will be about Sydney, specifically Oxford St, Surry Hills, etc, and will look at the novel in relation to interviews and other info collected about the queer dance party scene in the 1980s and 90s. Painting a picture of thbeginningng of dance party culture as we know it now. It will consider the importance of geography in the novel, and talk about all the places where the novel is set - how have they changed? etc.

2. Music, Dance, Art and Costume-Making - Individual and Collective Joy

This chapter will be specifically about dance music, which is described in great detail in Chemical Palace, and about the "need" to dance that the novel talks about. This will be related to the novel's discussion of how important it is to create - costumes, dance parties, art and props, etc. It will record the DIY dance parties, raves and warehouse parties, etc.

3. Performance in Chemical Palace - Camp and 'Decadent Fetishism'

This chapter will look at camp culture, particularly the HIV-related performances and drag that feature in the novel. I will consider the kind of camp culture represented in the novewhetherhather it still exists today.

4. Intimacy, violence, comfort and disease - 'as if life was worth living only at the extreme'

This chapter will look at the sex, the BDSM, the disease and death in the novel, and the way in which the characters take care of each other like a family. A big queer family, when many of their biological families have forsaken them.

5. Drugs in the Novel - The Chemicals of Chemical Palace

Yay! Drugs had to come into it somewhere! This chapter will look at drug culture in the 1980s and 90s through to addiction addcition and drug use in the novel and ask questions about the role of drugs in queer dance party culture - then and now.

6. Nostalgia and Change - Is The Chemical Palace a Ruin?

This chapter will look at the book's nostalgia for the scene, for the time, for Sydney and consider how things have changed. It will consider the book as a piece of historical fiction, a record of the culture at that time.

CONCLUSION-------- what will I conclude? Who knows?!

Anyway,

So that's what I do when I'm not at Manacle or out getting trashed and shaking my butt. I hope this thesfinishedbe finsihed half way through 2007, and should be between 70, 000 and 100, 000 words long - that's a full book length. This is just a chapter plan at the moment and probably will change. These will not end up being the titles of most of the chapters. Also, I am supposed to have at least two chapters written before the semester ends... arrggghhh!

e

It's my birthday and I'll k if I want to...

Hi all youse out there in blogland. How are you? No, I mean it, how are you all? I'm always talking about me, what about you?

If you are reading this blog, I'd love to hear from you. Please comment and just tell me how you are, what you been up to, how's your mother, how's your health, who the hell you are, etc.

That said, now let's talk about me. Well, not just me. Me and all of you wonderful people, all of you wonderful, crazy, delirious people. What a wild weekend! What a happy weekend. Actually, what an inspiring, sane and centering weekend. Can it be both? 'Cos it was - crazy and happy and grounding at the same time.

"Bent" (Manacle Day Club) turned two on sunday - I worked - hard. I wore my red and black Cyndi Lauper party dress - it is strapless, with a heart-shaped, low neak-line. I felt like I was going to a party, and I was! Our party.



Woops, I have no arms!

I have been at Manacle for about nine months and I was present for Manacle's 3rd birthday - see my post about that wonderful day. This was Day Club's birthday party, which also happend to correspond with Arq's 6th birthday party on sunday night. Pheww... will they ever let us rest?!



Luke, Daniel, Karin, Dave and other friends of mine mostly slept sat night and started on sunday morning at our party, going on to Arq's with a break in between to refresh. Manacle was at capacity and had some "fun" with licensing police but all worked out. Luke and Dave and Aaron and Daniel all hung out near the Club Bar where I was working for a lot of the time. Coat check got so full and crazy and I lost my first coat, but then I let the boy go in and he found it on the floor. It had fallen off. Anyway, because they were sitting near, even though I was working, I still could see them and hear their laughter and watch their silly flirting and stuff. L, D and A were all hussy, p-king, hugging happy boys - always good to see.



By the end of work, I was exhausted but really wanted to have drinks and stay for a while with the lasters. So I had drinks with Rowan, Logan, Brian, Luke (for a bit), Abo Winfrey, Jen and others. Jorja came down and joined in and that was really nice. I've got photos, including Rowan in drag



and Brian and Abo in my red wig that I loaned Rowan for the Birthday.



KOOKY - ARQ

Went home, fell asleep for about twenty mins in front of the heater then get dressed for Arq. Before Arq, we went to Kooky to see Khan DJ - he was very good and we danced. The crowd was a bit straight, so me and Luke high-tailed it to Arq after Khan's set. Khan and Rachel met us later at Arq. Even though Luke and I had been very organised, paying our entry to Arq and getting stamps before going to Kooky to avoid the queue, we still had to queue when we got there. Thankfully, not for long. Wait?! This is inane. Point is - Arq busy, big party, got in, crazy packed, had half pill, smiled like an idiot, music not so good after Murphy had finished - too much tribal and trance - much talking in Trash Alley, bitching about music, then chastising ourselves for being negative, praise for friends and discussion about how nice it is to have found quality* people to be surrounded by...

*Quality: I use the word "quality" not to denote that they are good looking, rich or popular or something, rather that they are caring, supportive of each other, interesting, honest and open - genuine people who bring happiness and good will to the space, generous people who's company makes others happy. You know who you are!

MONDAY DAY CLUB

So, as is often the case, just before seven you could see a congregation of Manacle regulars (parishioners waiting for their church to open) wandering around, looking eagerly at watches and each other. Out of the wild and into our lounge room. A slow start, relaxed and pleasant, thinking that I was winding down, but no. The second wind brought a lusty gust of camp into my good self, and friends were generous with our new friend Kitty - not that I need more than about four grains to be happy and stupid. Ah, happy and stupid...

Had some great talks with Daniel and John, Karen and Tris about themselves, their lives, friends, opinions on love, (gay) marriage, the scene, etc. Enlightening and interesting.

There were two happy k holes and some unexpected snogging (not me, although two naughty people tried to get me trasheder than I like). It was funny and sweet.

Afternoon was relaxed and chilled, spent time at A's apartment - lovely! Hospitable man. So much nicer than the Columbian!

DECKBAR

The stand-out performances at Deckbar were from DJ Chip, who played a really interesting set that took me and Rowan on a little journey. The music, particularly the first two thirds of the set had such a flow, the way it started in one place and took you into another, then another... and Abo Winfrey - air guitar, gospel preacher dance moves, Whitney eat your heart out!

Maz - pulled up a box to the DJ booth to be near Dan, stamping and clapping and singing his praises. I've never seen an arse move quite like hers! Kylie - hilarious! Luxuriating on the couch - being fun and dirty - she goes "I'm so hot right now, I'm a hamburger with the lot!" Talk about your hot beef injection! Thank God I don't indulge...

So, as is the want, Dan Murphy's set relied us all into a frenzy by the end. J and K and M and A W and the others laughing, playing and running around like maniacs. Abo yells out "pretend you're on drugs, everyone!" Hmmm. Josh fell off his chair laughing with his legs up in the air, everybody clapped. So many people in the toilets! Trikky scowling affectionately at the trashed ones and laughing at me after my two mini-bumps - stupid and happy!

Went to Stonewall for a couple, then went home - still slightly off chops, and fell asleep exhausted and feeling dreamy.

So much better this week due to these factors: 1. Good friends with good attitudes and kindness to share. 2. Less tina - a very cautious 1/2 point so as not to be awake longer than I like. 3. Grounding conversations with wise people - thanks John and Daniel.

Karin! Congratulations on the new job!!!!! It's so perfect and you are so perfect for it. I hope it all works out perfectly.

Daniel! Disappointment is just a bump in the yellow brick road of your life. Not to worry, soon there will be fire-works, soon lightning strikes and you'll be electrified! (Bumps aren't that bad anyway, eh?!)

Tris! You're hot! Keep up the good work. (I always depend on the campness of strangers...)

Luke! You have made leaps and bounds. Your increasing happiness makes us all happy. Looking forward to the birthday this weekend.

Dave! You trash! Happy birthday to you and all your minions. Hope you are well.

Dan! Thank you for what you have created. Not many people can shepherd such a wayward flock...!

Rachel! It was really good to hang with you for an extended time again. Hope you had fun. You and Khan are so trashy!

Rowan! Thanks for being solid and wonderful, and that little glimpse into your softer side. You are a true gem, Chip was right. A diamond in the rough.

Happy birthday all, and thanks for sharing.

PS: Abo: "I am bisexual - buy me a drink and I'll get sexual."

PPS: Kylie: "Somebody get the butcher 'cos I'm off my chops!"

PPS: Did anybody see that ad for the new "Total Girl" compilation - Kylie, Jamelia, Pink, Ashlee, Hilary, etc? It should be called "Total Gaybo" or "Totally Camp"! It even comes with a free lip gloss. How gay!

Whatever Happended To Baby Jane?

Joan (Crawford) on Bette (Davis): "Poor Bette, it appears she's never had a happy day, or night, in her life!".
Joan: "Maybe they should put us in cages when they promote the picture".
Bette on Joan: "That bitch could cry on demand".
Bette on the making of Baby Jane: "That bitch hated working with me on Jane; and vice versa. She was a pain in the ass before, during and after the picture was made."

I finally got around to watching "Whatever Happended to Baby Jane" when Dave brought it over the other day. As you can see from the above interview excepts, Crawford and Davis hated each other the whole time. Which works well in the film.

The movie is quite disturbing as the two aging sisters battle with their loss of fame, their lonlienss and isolation, their resentments of each other. But the most disturbing thing is that I can identify with certain aspects of Jane's psychosis. Not the tying people up or serving rats for lunch, but her holding onto the past, her childlike optimism and delight, her obsessive attention to the props of her past happiness...

Her kind of blind belief that everything would be fixed if only Daddy were there, and her joy in dresses, dolls, bows, dancesteps and pretty lights.

If I go crazy one day, I have no doubt that I'll be an old baglady in high heel shoes and a diamonte tiara sitting in Central Tunnel drinking vodka, with a boombox playing "On a Night Like This". Annoying passers by about how "in my day" we used to dance for days on end, the music was happy, the drugs were better and I was beautiful God Damn It!

I was beautiful...

Whatever happended to that Emma, anyway?

Liz did it. So did I. What about you?

Part Playful Kisser

Kissing is a huge game for you, a way to flirt and play You're the first one to suggest playing spin the bottle at a party Or you'll go for the wild kiss during a game of truth or dare And you're up for kissing any sexy stranger if the mood is right!

Part Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

It's not all good.

Too much tina is uuurgly!

I don't want to give the indication that my sun-mon was not fabulous (because it was, thanks mostly to Rowan, Nancy Boy*, Dan, Daniel, and Luke), but it's time I dealt with some serious issues here.

*Nancy Boy is the Arq merchandise beanie bear that I bought on monday morning before work. Rowan and I took him out for his first trashy day-night on the strip and he excelled even our high expectations of him, drinking shots and bumping k like a pro by the time Deckbar was through. (All subsequent Nancy Boy references are to this bear.)

Now I like drugs as much as the next Crucader of Camp, but really! Enough is enough! I mean sometimes you just gotta say "No", you know, cool it, can it, take a hike, hit the sack, let it go. I mean really.

Last night I watched the line between fun and pathos collapse in a messy drug-fucked heap with a couple of friends. We're talking bodies slowly falling apart, minds scattered after weeks of solid over-use. Finger-nails weakened, welts on the skin, weight-loss, mild psychosis.

Wake up to yourself! Go to bed.

Good intentions, ideas and plans, all fall apart as the last of the money goes into your tina pipe. You sell yourself short. You are pimping yourself for what? For shaking hands and stomach cramps, for hours of bordom and irritation, for exhaustion and emotional obliteration. You can't eat, you can't sleep any more. You only love tina, you only hate tina. The bitch, the slut, she has you on a leash. And I hate watching you hate yourself.

Some of you are just trash, rubbish, refuse - you are fucked up and selfish - you'll never change and I wash my hands of you. But most of you are lovely, misguided, weak maybe, but lovely, spirited and loyal. Shiney happy people when the night is at its peak - camp and funny, filling the world with wit and style, love and good-will - generousity. Most of you are just like me, and I could be you (I know that. I have no illusions about myself).

But it's not tina's fault, you know. She's acid, she's nasty, she's lovely, she's hot, but she's not evil.

Lonliness, desparation, bordom, disillusionment, depression. Tina just comes along and you fit her into the gaps. Then you forget why you liked her in the first place, how she made you smile, made you dance and shine... The bitch is pissing you off, but you just can't get rid of her. She's saying the same shit over and over again - B.A.N.A.N.A.S, B.A.N.A.N.A.S - you could go mad. But you're so used to the annoying bitch now, you can't imagine life without her. More tina will even you out.

(Yes, I listen to you, and I watch you, and I can see what you are going through.)

I am unsure how much I should/can care about the addicts. Nancy Boy has already learned to stop having tina at least 6 hours before he is going to want to go home. He has learned that eating her is safer and saner than smoking. That half a point is enough for two days out, and any longer out than that is special occasions only. (Such as Manacle and Arq's birthdays this weekend!) Sure, these might not be your limits... The important thing is to have limits. Ask yourself what will I be doing in the five-ten hours that she will be "inspiring" me? Is that what I want to be doing? Have a talk with yourself. You need to be able to get along.

Alright, now to the selfish, bitching side of things (sorry Ethan, who said that he likes me because I don't bitch about people):

You mess up MY night. You make messes in my space and in my way, you ask me for drugs when it's inappropriate, crass, and - yes - I am a snob, I don't like to see you acting that pathetic. I share everything, but only to bring happiness and fun. Why would I give you my drugs in the morning, when you are nearly falling asleep, trashed-out, used-up and dull? Why should I put another straw on your camel's back? I'd rather save those last two bumps of k for a fresh sunday night, with Dan Murphy on the decks at Arq, a new dress on, and fresh smiles at one in the morning - high-tide.

Drugs are a luxury, food and sleep are neccessities. Live a luxurious life - not hedonistic, not oblivious, destructive.

And stop giving the rest of us a bad rep. I like tina, and I'm not going to give her up just because you've made her look ugly, but sometimes I am a little embarrassed to be seen with her in public, because you've made her look like a monster.

Anyway, the upshot? The conclusion?

This Camp Crucader says, keep it simple, elegant, sophisticated, and a little bit fun. Wear a short skirt, but not too short. Wear comfortable shoes that also look gorgeous. Love yourself, and laugh at yourself. Love your friends, but don't let them take you for a ride. Be strong and canny, but not hard and cyncial. Find a balance, be proud of yourself, fall off the wagon every now and then but get back on. Believe in love, and see it in everything.

Dance like a maniac.

Black will always be the new black.

Bitter-sweet Pills and K-robics!

What a strange weekend. Saturday started it off with a nice day at work followed by Khan's leaving drinks :-( I had never intended getting trashed but Lil R was at dayclub and when I finished we went for a visit to a friend (a visit involving a tutorial in the standard way of hanging with our good friend, T). So then we all got a little happy and went to Green Park hotel. I felt really good.

Rachel and I played pool and it was really nice to hang with her again. I was sad that Khan was leaving Manacle and I got a little teary. He was always the person who was nice to me and gave me advice on how to get along in the industry - on the strip. And lots more.

It can be a tough world, actually... but enough of that, anyway! On with the story:

I got trashed - too trashed. And found myself in a misunderstanding. I know it's probably my own fault, but it is still a bitch to have had to go through it. Sunday at work I felt like I was going to die (terrible hangover) and I thought about quitting. But Khan was right, it all looked a bit better by the end of the day, and by the time I was changed into a pretty dress and dancing at Kooky, I was feeling entirely wonderful - beyond any hope or expectations I'd had for this sunday.

I just couldn't stop moving. I felt so at home in my own body and I didn't care who was looking at me. I was shaking my ass 'cause it felt good. I probably looked like a total bimbo, but I honestly don't care. I needed to feel fabulous again. To wash that horrible day right outa my hair.

Rachel, Dave and I went to Arq which was ok. Nothing special, just a bit of a boogy and some typical Arq wandering and chatting to people. I really enjoyed the balcony - watching people and the crowd bouncing around. And dancing downstairs to the funkier music... For some reason (probably that my body remembered sunday's hang-over!), I just didn't feel like drinking and so I didn't get my usual Smirnoff black or two at Arq - just had red water and a kinda chilled-out time. Pleasant.

BUT DAYCLUB ROCKED MY KASBAH!

Because of ToyBox being on sunday, various true believers had taken monday off work and were to be found still ripping up the floor at Manacle - or at least standing around, smoking and chatting and laughing downstairs. Crowd was bigger, prettier and had more stamina.

Dayclub continued to build and get a very good crowd for a monday. D was there with friends, including K, and I chatted to him and stuff. Then I decided to try some of the little baggie that I had been holding onto - waiting for the right time. The baggie contained a few bumps and had been given to me as a "losing my k virginity" gift. I decided that, as I was sober, safe and among friends, it would be a perfect opportunity to have my first bump. I was very careful and only had a small one - two friends indulged in support (separate cubicles, of course) and then we hit the floor.

Welcome onboard the mothership k, we hope you enjoy your ride with us this evening...

After just little while, I began to feel warm and kinda flushed, and kinda short of breath, but in a good way. Like being excited. Then I started to smile and the world went a little fuzzy but, once again, in a good way. It's hard to explain the effects aside from that, and it made everything seem humourous and very pleasant. Songs I wouldn't normally get excited about had me throwing my arms in the air, and I was struck with the desire to jump around and do aerobic-style dance moves. (I later found out that this was the phenomenon referred to as K-robics, and is a common and ridiculously fun side effect...)

The best thing, though, was that I was among good, camp company. Not only did my friends provide sound advice on effective and safe usage (I didn't know very much), they also made it a wonderful place to be - A place where smiles flow freely and silly dancing is rewarded with many rounds of applause. The day's sport was in finding, naming and demonstrating common dance-moves that people do. From the "doing up a seat belt" to K's hilarious "riding a horse at high speed", we covered lazy dancing - "the rag doll", and over-the-top dancing - "drying your butt with a towel" (I am guilty of having done that for most of the time this sun/mon, even at Stonewall - Retro Night - to things like Madonna's "Cherish" and Blondie's "Atomic"). I musn't forget the various skipping rope dance moves and, of course, "swinging the towel around above your head after you've dried your butt with it". The three of us doing Beyonce's chest thrust must have looked hilarious to any onlookers. (I quickly abandoned that after deciding there was entirely too much reverberation in the chest area - where's my sports bra?!)

I must take the time to mention Chip's dj-ing, which was wonderful and took me on various journeys. Being able to smile at him in the dj booth and watch his dance-moves is always entertaining and felt especially fun on k. I am sure I had a stupid grin on my face for much of his set. (Oops, no need for paranoia! ;-)

C was charming at Stonewall, reminiscing about clubbing in 80's and extreme make-ups they used to wear. I absolutely HATE reggae, but found myself enjoying it at that time due to the conditions. Shame on me. Never again. My inner twinkky gayboy is slapping me in the face...

I went home at about 4am after I had danced to "Total Eclipse of The Heart" and had an "Up and Go". Slept for 11 hours and then woke up feeling good.

It's important to know when it's time to go to sleep. I am happier when I have not spent too much time with Tina. The fun will still be there, the music doesn't go away.

Monday's Dayclub lasted for 2 hours longer than usual and was rocking 'till the end. Arq staff and trashbags making the move upstairs to dance to the last few songs and "Filthy Gorgeous" ending with a round of applause (Alsop was also excellent) and shouts of "encore". He played a couple more songs and then they kicked us out into the street to stumble down to the Columbian.

The Columbian was funny. I am surprised they let us in any more considering how rude we are about everything. "The music sux", "let's go to Deckbar", "This place sux", "Deckbar, deckbar, deckbar", R knocked over her beer and blamed it on her jacket, M left after deciding she was too drunk. I think she's quite friendly when she's drunk.

Deckbar had a really nice group of people but when we expected the music to go up, it didn't. Shame on the council/police/residents/whoever it was. Dan Murphy must be heard! I like to hear Dan's grooves spilling out onto the street and into the night. Warming everything, making it electric. Hope we can come to a compromise with whoever the powers that be are. We wait and see.

Anyway, prognosis is - k is very nice. Like pills, you wouldn't want to take heaps and heaps of it - too draining maybe. Best used alongside other stuff for a part of your night/day. For a tranquiliser it sure brings on a lot of merriment and frivolity, and hyperactivity - yay!

Prognosis two (I already knew this but was reminded) - special Monday Dayclubs rock! Dayclubs on a long weekend, Monday Dayclubs after Mardi Gras, Sleaze, etc. The next one is my birthday - Sleaze weekend. I should start thinking about what to wear now. I plan to skip Sleaze (maybe) and party in the morning and all through the day recoveries. Hmmm. Ideas. Ideas.

Anyway, this is Camp crusader number two, signing off after touchdown from mothership k.

PS: I love my life!

Uneducated?

Here I am in my graduation gown - 2004. The "hood" for BA graduates is rabbit fur. My vegetarian girlfriend was, of course, horrified, and I did consider the fake fur alternative... but you couldn't even call it an alternative! The fake fur hoods were so horribly and cheaply made that they looked like some kind of supermarket santa clause beard. Anyway, aren't rabbits an introduced species and a pest? I'd like to say that's why I allowed the nice ladies in graduation gown hire store to put that real fur on me, but to tell you the truth, I just didn't want to look cheap and nasty (for once;-).

This blog was recently referred to as "uneducated". A comment I find somewhat bemusing and certainly problematic. In Australia, if a person cannot speak English but can speak three Asian languages and play the violin, we will still call them uneducated and talk to them like they are an idiot. If a street kid who is 18 writes at a 10 year old level, but knows how to survive the winter in Sydney, where to find food, money, how to be pretected, we still call them uneducated. That's ignorance, which is a particularly insidious "uneducation". Couple it with arrogance, and you have an asshole (and not in the good Las Vegas way).

I'll let youse in on something a bit personal - I go clubbing for two reasons - to dance and to get an education.

Dancing is the most wonderful thing you can do with your body, just like sex can be. You can learn so much about yourself, you can move in ways that make you feel inexplicably good. Dancing is deviant, joyous and good for your body and mind. Dancing is empowering and self-expressive.

When I am not dancing (and sometimes also when I am), I am learning - mostly about people. I talk to people, listen to people, watch people live their lives and interact with each other. I love the jokes and the stories, the different languages different people use to talk to each other. I love to step outside my own shoes and see how other people move through the world. I love to see other people's passions, their pain and their survial techniques.

I find drugs really interesting - from a scientific, social and medical perspective, as well as physically. I have learned a lot about drugs - what they can do to body and mind, what they can do for groups of people, for social spaces.

I find music really interesting - in terms of how different types of music make groups of people interact differently. We are so affected by music - more on this at another time.

I have just written a draft of an abstract for submission to a Australian Literary journal called New Talents. It is basically about Sydney from the perspective of queers and drug takers. The article will explore geography - the urban landscape, Oxford St, the Cross, the inner-city.

If you are interested in this, or the article I am working on which is about tattoos, you may visit my other blog - linked as PhD blog in links list to see my ideas and workings.

This blog, however, will remain "superficial", gay, drug and dance obsessed. Faaaabulous!

e

PS: Some of the most educated people I know are the ones that need an education. Lesson number one - respect difference. Your culture, your religion, your ideals, your life - your world view is just one among millions.

PPS: k rocks! My next post will explain.