Academi-wha?

Did I tell you I started University this year? I didn't?

That is because I am contemplative (see also: secretive; squirrely).

I did start uni-versity in 2014. I have stories -- and how-tos, and much hearty grog.

Stay tuned...

On the elusive 'Her'

As I have grown older, I have

Changed my opinions on love, and I suppose

That is not uncommon.

We do what we do --

As adults, humans - we

Change our minds about things;

We learn more about… Being…

 In Love.

We become better at…

Being -- in love

And I never quite

Understand why, or can quite

Keep up,

To all of the Being –

Or all of the ‘in love’

That we are.

*****

I shouldn’t have been surprised because we have always shared moments. We have always shared moments but at different times -- we are so close in everything, yet so close behind sometimes that I forget, that She not only catches up to me - She surpasses me in so many ways.

***

Skin Enough

If I had skin enough
I would tattoo you on my body.
You make me think in poetry....
But I am not vast
And you are not permanent.

Word Of The Day: Accident.

It's NOT a bad thing. I know 'Accident' makes most people automatically think 'It's a Bad Thing'.

It is not.

Some people pre-emptively call it a 'Happy Accident'.  I say screw that.It's not precise.The truth is that this thing that happened to me was an accident; an accident that made me happy.

I am SO happy about it.

And now the word 'happy' has lost all meaning for me, so I will henceforth use others. Choices include 'giddy', 'ecstatic', 'enthralled'; and terms such as 'over the moon', 'unable to comprehend' and 'giggldi-sassifras' - which is nonsense, yes - but borne of sheer excitement.

Oh that I could tell you why.

I include this entry in my blog because I know this time next year, it will be greatly valued - maybe not by you, but definitely me. Especially when I'm 135.

Wow, that seems so indulgent and affected. But it's true.

Today something happened to me that marked the completion of an accident; an accident that began 7 months ago. It was a 'pure' accident, one without intent or pre-concieved notions. Accidents can be like that.

Accidents are not things that happen; they are things you cause without meaning to. 

I did this thing and then something happened and now here we are. Maybe not specifically, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Accidents are not always bad. They can cause Great and/or 'great' things.

Either way, someone's getting a story to tell the grandkids.

SNIPPETS: I

It surprises me to say this, but you can forgive most things as a child.

Things happen to you, but at least you are innocent of causality. You are malleable, still forming; your bones, your psyche - you can be shaped to fit; bend without breaking. You might look back and wish things hadn’t happened but at the time they seem only different - not abnormal, because the baseline for normal has not yet been set. It is not until you are fully formed that events become T-intersections in your life.

Taking The Piss For Mental Acuity: A Sustainability Assignment

I snark at you because you can take it.

So, I started a 'Tertiary Preparation Course' (aka: i can haz university degreez plz) at TAFE two-and-a-half weeks ago. For those of you needing an international analogy, please substitute 'TAFE' for local-college-but-non-university-institution of your choice.

Having already completed the 'top level' of high school academic certification requirements, I am undertaking this course in order to brush up on science and mathematics skills seldom used during the last decade of my (illustrious?) English-based journalistic / PR career.

That being said, I am perhaps taking the piss out of other parts of the syllabus. But I'll leave you to judge.

A crazy examination of the paradoxical nature of love.

I have been in relationships where the only thing I was in love with was love.

I used to think that made me a romantic. And I am, you know – a romantic. It may seem antithetical to my daily behaviour, but I believe in love. I have faith in it.

As I get older; as I meet more people living traditionally ‘unconventional’ lives, my certainty that love contains an element of forever has wavered, but my hope that it does has not.

Old-fashioned love is my blind faith; my invisible sky lizard with magical powers of magicalness.

We all have our strange religions.

But I’ve realised as I’ve gotten older, that being in love with being in love is not a romantic gesture. As an idea, it has a certain sweet naivete, but there is nothing romantic about putting it into practice. Because I have stayed in relationships where the only thing I was in love with, was love.

An adventure through the space between my ears - Part I: Relatively Special

Image: The Crab Nebula, the result of a supernova noted by Earth-bound chroniclers in 1054AD At its centre, a neutron star. NASA Image of the Day.

A note to begin:
I’ve been thinking about time, as a relative concept. I want to talk about that, but first you’ll need to know a little of Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity. Like all things I do, I’ll try to make this extremely pleasurable.

Life On Twitter: 6 Months of Random Inanity III (April-May)

And so we near the end of our journey. (Which we started here, and then we went here.)

Journey? Is that word appropriate? Maybe in the loosest sense. I sort of feel like I set out on a journey with a specific destination, and then two miles down the track I wondered off to pick flowers, and hug kittens, and then was viciously beaten to death by Nazi robots.

Maybe, 'Free-travellin'"?

You are welcome to suggest your own word.

Looking at the clock, I've been working at this for almost 16 hours now - mostly for the pretty - but despite all that fiddling, I'm still not sure what the hell I've been doing for the last 6 months. If you've figured it out, please let me know in the comments.

Winner will become the revered god of my new religion, Snarktastigasmism. Mostly, I'll make up the rules as I go along, but you can be sure it'll involve plenty of requisite nudity. And probably pie.

Life On Twitter: 6 Months of Random Inanity II (February-March)

And we're back. In case you missed the first part of this little foray into WTFery, it all began here: WTFery.

Basically, in trying to figure out what I've been doing for the last six months, I've trawled through my 2350-odd tweets for any hints I could find. I've chosen some high-and-low lights for your possible amusement, and while I still don't have a frakking clue what I've been doing, I've realised I sure do have plenty to say about it.

FEBRUARY:

The other night, I lit candles to eat my microwave dinner for one. Not as special as I'd hoped. 2:24 AM Feb 1st via web

Life On Twitter: 6 Months of Random Inanity I (December-January)

So I couldn't figure out what I've been doing for the last six months. The time seems to have sort of... slipped behind the couch or something.

Then it occurred to me that I actually had a resource to help me find out what I've been doing day to day - something I haven't had since I was 8 and diligently kept a diary of every trudging, mind-numbing thing I did because it all seemed so AWESOME at the time.

I took me about 7 hours to get through all 2,350 of my Tweets, and I've distilled some of the more interesting/informative/funny ones for posterity, and hopefully enjoyment.

And hey, if anyone can figure out what the hell I've actually been doing, could you let me know?

DECEMBER:

Jeebus help us all - I'm Twittering. 140 characters of mindlessness, here I come. 8:59 PM Dec 19th, 2009 via web

Watching Bitch Slap; realising just how comfortable I am with boob-sploitation. Thank god I have a vagina or I'd be a total pervert 12:54 PM Dec 20th, 2009 via web

Like queers, there are no carbon-copy Christians. Unlike queers, Christians generally have shit hair. 1:26 PM Dec 20th, 2009 via web

The Dirty Deed Of Australia's "Clean Feed" mandatory internet filter

There’s a great deal of debate going on right now over mandatory internet filtering, or the “Clean Feed” proposed recently by our PM, Mr Illustrious KRudd.

I’ve been happily coughing curse words at my TV over this issue for the last few months, but there’s only so many times you can hear a “Think Of The Children” argument before you lose the plot and just want all the children to fucking die.

Having reached that point, I made myself a cup of tea and upon reflection, less-homicidal me had a few things to say.

Relationship Politics and the Pina Colada Song

I hate the Pina Colada song (aka Escape by Rupert Holmes). I really, really do.

"If you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape;
I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me and escape."

That I hate this song hasn't always been true - I loved it once. It has a damned catchy tune and who doesn't enjoy singing about cocktails and sex on the beach (which, fittingly, is also a cocktail)? But a couple of years ago, I was listening and something irked me, so I checked out the lyrics.

This song fucking sucks.

The whole premise of this song is twelve kinds of wrong. First, a guy is in bed with his "old lady" (that term - gag me with a spoon) and he decides to check out the personals section in the newspaper. Right there. In bed. Beside her.

Seriously? Ever heard of discretion?

Even the douchiest of douchebags will set up a

Quit dancing: The big gay battle is NOT OVER.

We dance. We dance around freedom; we dance around rights and justice - one step forward, one step back - and it is not a merry jaunt. We smile, but we are not joyful.

We dance with justice, with freedom because it is more respectable than fighting, and now we are a respectable people.

We have become a community.

We raise children and pets and picket fences; we wear suits and ties and hold positions of power - we are just like anyone. Those of us who live in prostration do it with Pride, because we are a respectable people.

So we do not fight anymore. We do not fight.

Why? Will we waltz into a new era? Piouette into equality; two-step for a brave new world? Does taking the hand of an oppressor, twirling around the issues get us closer to where we want to be? To where we need to be?

It does not.


Dance is style and flair; it requires retreat, someone to relinquish ground and yet, we dance. We start on the back foot and ruffle our skirts around issues because now we are a respectable people. Our dance card is always full.

We do not riot anymore.

We are a respectable people, a

Webisodes Killed the Gay-For-Pay Star: An Interlude

How web-based shows will change your view of mainstream media.

An Interlude: Telling Stories

Humans have been telling stories since we crawled out of the primordial goo and developed opposable thumbs on our little flatworm bodies*. From simple hunting tactics to fantastical myths of our creation (and, of course, porn), humans have communicated tales of who we are, what we do and where we come from and it is a habit, a skill, a need unique to our breed of animal.

The way we tell stories and the media we use has changed a lot since our days of finger painting on cave walls. No longer confined to rudimentary symbols or text; traditional, Mainstream and New Media has allowed us to tell our stories vividly; in full technicolour and high definition.

But despite all this evolution, our reason for telling stories has stayed the same: We seek, we yearn, and we crave that transcendental moment of connection with our fellow human.

For Queers, so often marginalised, alienated and maligned, telling stories can be one of the few ways we are able to touch, not only each other, but the people who consider us to be Untouchables. Through book and stage, small screens and large, we tell our stories so we can be seen; to share that which makes us the same and remove the fear that comes from misunderstanding that which makes us different.

In the first instalment of this webseries, I talked about the importance of groping supporting quality homo products. In the second, I vented my frustration at Mainstream Media’s gay-pandering tactics and the infuriating trend of the TV clit-tease.

Before we get to Otalia and Venice: The Series, I want to take a moment to talk about Queer Visibility and Positive Queer Representation, and what they mean to me.

Also, Hot Chicks and Boobs.

So here we go.

Visibility Matters.

Word Of The Day: Change

Change.

Change is inevitable. Like growing older, the passage of time - whether you like it or not, change will come.

Sometimes change sneaks up on you; sometimes you sense its impending doom like a storm cloud heavy overhead, or a wolf snarling and nipping at your heels. However it arrives, and no matter how well you think you have prepared yourself for it, change will always, without exception, find a way to turn your world upside down.

Even the smallest of changes, such as your favourite cafe running out of soy when you go in for your morning latte, can throw out your entire day. Now you have to order tea, or grab some water, or even move on to the next cafe a block down the street. It is simple, and yet we resist. A pebble on the track, change can derail the train of your day and send you sprawling across the gravel, dirty and bloodied and wondering what the hell just happened.

Change is seldom comfortable.

I am quick to admit I do not like change, but rarely as forthcoming with why I don’t like change.

When good bloggers go bad: An Update and NYE whatsits

Dear people who read this blog, thereby giving my life a sad sceric of meaning - I have been bad. Not in a nude, are-you-sure-it's-okay-if-you-touch-me-there, I-don't-think-you're-really-a-doctor way, more in a it's been a few weeks since I blogged kind of way.

The beautiful luddites that are my grandparents, and whom I visited to fulfill my Christmas family requirements, did not have internet access, thereby ensuring I spent the festive season chain-smoking, chewing my nails to the elbows and convulsing like a recovering crack addict.

Apparently, iCrave modem.

This is just a quick note to say thank you for your comments, notes, emails, tweets etc and I will reach out and cybertouch you in dirty places ASAP.

In the mean time, I pledged my body and some very explicit pictures of my girl parts to Rosemary Rowe (writer of Seeking Simone) and in exchange, she blogged about how great I am in bed. (Disclaimer: The fact that Rosemary blogged about me, and the fact that I have exceptional prowess in bed, are both facts, but may not necessarily be related to each other. At all.)

Check out the blog here: Seeking Simone and Naked Girl - Together At Last http://www.seekingsimone.com/2009/12/seeking-simone-and-naked-girl-together-at-last.html And remember to watch this fan-tasmic series.

Venice: The Series will be up very shortly, as well as a suprise fourth part on Anyone But Me, by popular demand.

Happy New Year, all - and remember: If you're going to do something, make sure it's dirty enough to get you blacklisted, but awesome enough that you'll keep the Presidency.

Naked Girl x

Webisodes Killed the Gay-For-Pay Star: Part 2

How web-based shows will change your view of mainstream media.

Part 2: Desperately Seeking Simone

Welcome back. If you’re not sure why I’m saying welcome back, that’s okay – we’re confused around here a lot of the time. This is the second in a three-part series I’m writing on web shows; shows that can take the gay-pandering mainstream media out into a back alley and beat them to a rainbowed pulp, with their top-shelf content and pure, independent, homo pizzazz.

So yes, welcome back. Please take off your pants.

< This is a segue >

Law and Order: Special Victim’s Unit is a big-bucks, primetime TV show about a bunch of detectives and prosecutors who investigate sex crimes, and I shouldn’t have to explain that to most of you, because it stars Mariska Hargitay as Detective Olivia Benson and Stephanie March as ADA Alex Cabot. Together, they form Cabenson – a femslash-tastic duo of hotness, in ass-kicking proportions. Why am I bringing this up? Well, partly so I can use these pictures:

And partly because... Sorry, need more time with those pictures? I’ll wait...

Word Of The Day: Introspective

Do you know who you are?

What makes you tick?

What kick-starts your heart; makes your soul rise from your chest and expand to fill every corner of a room, until no air is left but the sweet scent of At Last! and Is this what it means to feel whole??

Do you know who you are?

Would you recognise yourself without a mirror? Do your deeds and actions reflect your beliefs and values?

Are you constantly at war with yourself, saying one thing but doing another; compromising yourself until so little of you is left that it could slip through your fingers like water?

Are you unsure what “taking a stand” even means?

Take a moment.


Sit with yourself, in darkness or in light, or on a boat on the sea away from everyone, away from expectations and ask yourself: Who am I?

What do I want from this life?

Do not ask what you have to do, do not ask what does it want from me?, because in life, there will always be conflict. There will always be someone, or something you feel you must defer to.

Do not defer life. Do not defer who you are.

Know who you are.

Introspection is never wasting time. A life without knowledge of who you are is not living.

Know who you are.

Be who you are.

Everything else will change.

Stalk me, stalk my blog: http://socialsmores.blogspot.com

Webisodes Killed the Gay-For-Pay Star: Part 1

How web-based shows will change your view of mainstream media.

PART 1: Do We Really Have To Stop Now?

A little while ago, I wrote a column called Raining On The Gay Parade, in which I implied (see also: flat-out stated) the gay community has a lemming*-esque reaction to anything pitched as gay – movies, TV, books, music and community representatives, regardless of their actual worth. Then I ranted that we should be a more discerning, demanding audience, and finished by complaining about The L Word. You know - the usual.

What I didn't do, was suggest alternatives to the crap we're dealt, which makes me about as useful as a penis in a dyke bar. And I never, ever, ever, want to be compared to a penis. Never.

Never.

So today I'm posting the first in a three-part series on kick-ass alternatives. (This one's mostly for the ladies, but if you want to send me a link for the boys, please do so.) Since I'm such an up-to-date, tech-savvy child of the social-networking revolution, I'll be talking to you about New Media. In this case, the Wonderful World of Webisodes.

Never heard of a webisode? You'll be hearing the word a lot, so if you're not down already with netspeak, you'd best get acquainted. Web-based "TV" shows are the way of the future. Episodic series' pumped straight to the interwebz, without the need for mainstream ratings, TV executives or advertising dollars, means these shows can match and eclipse the content of anything "gay" you've seen on your TV for a very long time.

I'm not going to give you a history of Webries, or a definitive list of what's out there, but I do want to talk about three particular shows: Two that are so unmissable, so awesomesauce that I cream myself, and one that is most notable for its ground-breaking creation. So here we go.