I think it's fair to say that up until last week I have been completely embarrassed about my existence. Restraint has been my raison d'être. While most people make "to do" lists, I make "don't" lists. You name it, at some stage in my life, I have avoided it. I guess you could say I've lived an active passivity. The most obvious display of this has been with my attitude to the opposite sex. My doctor says that I am "living a life on hold" due to the fact that my existence seems to revolve solely around waiting. When I was around 14 or so I decided that it would be quite nice to have a girlfriend. Unfortunately, attending an all boys' school coupled with being a complete social retard ensured that implementing that decision wasn't going to be so easy. Since that time I've seen having a girlfriend as the primer to my existence. I couldn't possibly even contemplate trying to accomplish anything else until this was achieved. Of course, due to other ideological concerns I felt to actively pursue this goal was both morally and ethically suspect. And so I've waited. Perched on some convoluted principled high ground. Like a fucking idiot.
But this is set to change. This week past there has been a significant shift. A re-birth, if you will. I'm feeling good. Constantly restricting myself hasn't proved fruitful. It's just made me miserable. There's been a review; restraint, restriction and fear of regret have been cast aside. It's time to become a freedom lover. I'm feeling content and ready to present the whole man I am to the world at large.
The thing is I'm a great guy. I've got some positive attributes. I shouldn't be hiding my light under a bushel, I should be waking up strong in the morning, being more assertive with accomplishing my goals. Or start actually setting goals...
I'm not talking about anything sexy here, I'm being quite general, don't get the wrong idea. The whole "When I was around 14" stuff was just to illustrate an embedded mindset and indicate what a significant metamorphosis this is. This is about becoming pro-active across the entire life spectrum. No more descending into shame spirals, just implementing positive action rainbows. There's a multitude of colours for me to embrace. I'm blue no more.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
I Keep Losing Heart
Back around mid-2002 Lisa and I jumped a train down to Brighton for the launch of the second issue of the hip music publication Careless Talk Costs Lives. The magazine was the baby of former Melody Maker renegade Everett True. True's idea was to publish 12 issues, counting down from 12 to 1, by which time the quality of the journalism expressed within the magazine will have destroyed, through shame, the rest of the (deplorable) British Music press. A noble idea, but unfortunately one that didn't quite work (True's subsequent magazine is titled Plan B).
DJing at the launch of this issue was Mia Clarke of Brighton's very own Electrelane. Electrelane were a band whom I felt a reasonably strong affinity with, regardless of the fact that I didn't enjoy their music so much. What I did enjoy so much though was Mia Clarke's cute looks and sexy physique. Not to mention the great selection of tunes she played. I was smitten. On the train back to London I harangued Lisa endlessly with questions about whether a Brick Lane Indian was an appropriate place to take Mia on a first date, where would be the best destination for Mia and I to spend our honeymoon and whether Mia would want me coming on the road with the band or not? I spent a restless night pining for my new love and wishing she was by my side.
The next morning I pulled out the old acoustic guitar and composed Love Song For Mia Clarke No.1, a sweet, toe-tapping ditty that wouldn't have been out of place on an early Belle & Sebastian record. The idea was that I would compose a concept album that followed the progress of our relationship. The album would culminate in a funked up cover of Bryan Adams' Everything I Do, I Do It For You; a rendition of which I would perform on our wedding day as part of my vows.
Several weeks later whilst in a Liverpool Street Station WH Smith flicking through the latest issue of the lesbian lifestyle magazine Diva, I discovered that trying to attract Mia Clarke might be a little more difficult than first expected. According to the magazine Mia Clarke was a lesbian. This was a problem, although I had always wanted to be a lesbian, at the time the dream was far from becoming a reality, and so it seemed that once again I had been thwarted in my search for happiness. I resigned myself to having lost her and scrapped any further plans for the album.
Years passed, Electrelane records were released, some of which I found mildly enjoyable. I even managed to summon the strength to go see the band in Melbourne one time. I had consoled myself with the idea that if I couldn't be with Mia at least there wasn't going to be some other arsehole putting his grubby hands all over her. I had thought the pain was over until just over a week ago Mia Clarke was interviewed for Pitchfork Media's Guest List section. In the interview Mia states that the best time she has had this year was when "My boyfriend and I took a boat out onto Lake Michigan". YOUR WHAT? It seems that Mia Clarke was in fact totally hetero and Diva magazine had played a cruel joke on me. Careless talk cost lives, as they say, however, this new information has rekindled my hope. I think it's time to implement Plan B.
DJing at the launch of this issue was Mia Clarke of Brighton's very own Electrelane. Electrelane were a band whom I felt a reasonably strong affinity with, regardless of the fact that I didn't enjoy their music so much. What I did enjoy so much though was Mia Clarke's cute looks and sexy physique. Not to mention the great selection of tunes she played. I was smitten. On the train back to London I harangued Lisa endlessly with questions about whether a Brick Lane Indian was an appropriate place to take Mia on a first date, where would be the best destination for Mia and I to spend our honeymoon and whether Mia would want me coming on the road with the band or not? I spent a restless night pining for my new love and wishing she was by my side.
The next morning I pulled out the old acoustic guitar and composed Love Song For Mia Clarke No.1, a sweet, toe-tapping ditty that wouldn't have been out of place on an early Belle & Sebastian record. The idea was that I would compose a concept album that followed the progress of our relationship. The album would culminate in a funked up cover of Bryan Adams' Everything I Do, I Do It For You; a rendition of which I would perform on our wedding day as part of my vows.
Several weeks later whilst in a Liverpool Street Station WH Smith flicking through the latest issue of the lesbian lifestyle magazine Diva, I discovered that trying to attract Mia Clarke might be a little more difficult than first expected. According to the magazine Mia Clarke was a lesbian. This was a problem, although I had always wanted to be a lesbian, at the time the dream was far from becoming a reality, and so it seemed that once again I had been thwarted in my search for happiness. I resigned myself to having lost her and scrapped any further plans for the album.
Years passed, Electrelane records were released, some of which I found mildly enjoyable. I even managed to summon the strength to go see the band in Melbourne one time. I had consoled myself with the idea that if I couldn't be with Mia at least there wasn't going to be some other arsehole putting his grubby hands all over her. I had thought the pain was over until just over a week ago Mia Clarke was interviewed for Pitchfork Media's Guest List section. In the interview Mia states that the best time she has had this year was when "My boyfriend and I took a boat out onto Lake Michigan". YOUR WHAT? It seems that Mia Clarke was in fact totally hetero and Diva magazine had played a cruel joke on me. Careless talk cost lives, as they say, however, this new information has rekindled my hope. I think it's time to implement Plan B.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Solitude: The Eleventh Commandment
Yesterday I saw the film Into Great Silence - a documentary on a French Carthusian monastery. In my younger years, I had what could best be described as monastic fantasies. This doesn't mean that I was into monk sex, rather that I was seduced by many aspects of monasticism, particularly the Medieval eremitic variety. Whilst my contemporaries were boozing up and whoring around, I was dreaming of living on a rocky outcrop off Newfoundland in the 1600s, wearing a hairshirt and whipping myself with a poorly constructed (yet brutally effective) cat o' nine tails. At the time this seemed like an option I was forced to contemplate, albeit it one that I found significantly intriguing. The idea soon proved unsustainable though. When you've decided that masculinity is your sin there really isn't enough penance in the piggy bank to cover it. The other problem was that I didn't actually believe in God, I was just into it for the lifestyle. Something which the church frowns upon.
It is this lifestyle, however, that still fascinates me to this day. Hence the reason for seeing Into Great Silence. Cathusian Monks aren't hermits in the strictest sense of the term, although sounding oxymoronic, they're appropriately described as a community of hermits. This is due to their monasteries being situated in secluded areas, their strict adherence to the Rule of St. Benedict and emphasis on contemplation in solitude. Contrary to common perception they do not take a vow of silence, yet only talk when it is strictly necessary. As someone who periodically views indulging in anything heavier than oxygen and water as decadence, the idea of necessity has some serious resonance. Each monk acquires a task for the upkeep of the monastery whether it be chopping firewood, stitching robes, cleaning, maintenance or food preparation. With little purpose and worth in life, and little clue on how to obtain it, I find the idea of being assigned a routine of benevolent tasks has a definite appeal. I may not have the physique of a natural wood-chopper, but what I lack in butch and I can more than make up for in unwavering commitment.
The film certainly brought back some memories. The glories of my youth may not be conventional, but have a certain non-conformist sheen in retrospect. Romanticism is nothing to be ashamed of, and with Into Great Silence my heroes have finally been given the celluloid treatment they deserve. However, alluring as this existence may be, the fact that I view its appeal through a lens of defeat rather than enthusiastically embracing its central ideological principle indicates that it may not have been an appropriate path to choose.
It is this lifestyle, however, that still fascinates me to this day. Hence the reason for seeing Into Great Silence. Cathusian Monks aren't hermits in the strictest sense of the term, although sounding oxymoronic, they're appropriately described as a community of hermits. This is due to their monasteries being situated in secluded areas, their strict adherence to the Rule of St. Benedict and emphasis on contemplation in solitude. Contrary to common perception they do not take a vow of silence, yet only talk when it is strictly necessary. As someone who periodically views indulging in anything heavier than oxygen and water as decadence, the idea of necessity has some serious resonance. Each monk acquires a task for the upkeep of the monastery whether it be chopping firewood, stitching robes, cleaning, maintenance or food preparation. With little purpose and worth in life, and little clue on how to obtain it, I find the idea of being assigned a routine of benevolent tasks has a definite appeal. I may not have the physique of a natural wood-chopper, but what I lack in butch and I can more than make up for in unwavering commitment.
The film certainly brought back some memories. The glories of my youth may not be conventional, but have a certain non-conformist sheen in retrospect. Romanticism is nothing to be ashamed of, and with Into Great Silence my heroes have finally been given the celluloid treatment they deserve. However, alluring as this existence may be, the fact that I view its appeal through a lens of defeat rather than enthusiastically embracing its central ideological principle indicates that it may not have been an appropriate path to choose.
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