The Laughing Buddha Looks On

F**k it's August already...

2011-08-06T07:30:00.000+10:00

My creativity bottomed to absolute zero. Quite frustrating and I also seemed to have inherited a distinct feeling of apathy usually reserved for a Liberal Democrat voter. My British counterparts encourage it, along with cynicism, general moaning and prime time TV cop dramas. It's been almost a year since I returned to the UK and I've done no writing whatsoever apart from my New Year summary. Nadda. Not one ounce. Zip. It's disgraceful, I know. This blog has probably filed a missing persons report on me. Despite my apathy, I have been craving to be creative but not found the inspiration to sit myself down in front of the many 'Steve Jobs designed' items and just 'write'.

So this is me starting again. It might as well be the beginning as I think my previous blog entries were getting on the little self reflective side, so much so, the writers of 'Dawson's Creek' were probably chasing commission on them.

Watch this space.

This Year I...

2011-01-03T06:17:00.000+11:00

watched two teenagers simulate sex by my feet ... worked for Cate Blanchett ... organised my first and last hen's do ... had a famous hobbit kick a bottle of my urine ... saw my sister so happy she cried ... gained a new brother ... got a third world disease ... said goodbye to Justin/said hello to Justin ... saw JFK's house and golf course ... cycled on the wrong side of the road ... finally saw Kristin Chenoweth and Angela Lansbury sing ... made some fab new New York friends ... trod the boards of a Broadway theatre ... went to the Tonys ... met Mr Schuster ... cried at a puppet horse ... flew with Jack Bauer ... revisited old friends ... took a 36 hour flight ... left Australia and returned home ... became a lady of leisure ... welcomed my singing teacher to London ... had the best year ever!

It's Taken Me Until November...

2010-11-03T09:17:00.006+11:00

It seems breaking your hands and deciding to move one’s life 10,000 miles back to the UK has resulted in my blog being severely neglected over these past few months. Four entries this year and that is frankly unacceptable. To those of you who have logged on looking for the next gripping installment of ‘The Laughing Buddha’ only to find the same old entry loading up in your browser, I apologise profusely. It must be like flicking through the TV channels only to find the only thing worth watching is a rerun of ‘Friends’ on E4. Personally, it’s quite frustrating as I try and pride myself on being disciplined enough to keep this diary of musings going. I can only blame distraction, apathy and most of all lack of inspiration due to my head being full of half baked plans that I have been urging into realisation. Kicking my life into, well, something that resembles ‘a life’ I suppose.

I find myself in a state of flux (hardly anything new I hear you cry) which is not just a mental state for me but it seems to be materialising in several other aspects of my life like my career, my home and even some of my friendships. Being back in London is unfathomably easy and way too familiar for my liking. It is the mental equivalent of slipping on an old pair of slippers, yet this time I also have my eye on a shiny pair of new shoes (the shoes in question happen to be in a swanky New York department store, on sale and put on hold behind the counter with my name on them, making them especially alluring even though I am stuck on a different continent). My life has moved on so dramatically now, that certain parts of it that once fit in quite easily with my daily routine now seem to be totally defunct or inappropriate. You’d think living out of a suitcase since April and not working properly since July would throw me into further disarray but to be perfectly honest I have never been more happy in my life than right now. Attempting to carve out a new life back in London, not knowing if this next step is the right step forward, is the thing that fills me with the most unease and doubt.

The idea of sitting behind a desk and working for someone else fills me with so much dread I’d rather vomit onto a porcupine then lick it up. I have to be creative. I cannot and will not settle for anything less. Sounds dramatic and I suppose it is. For the first time in my life the thought of permanence and routine bores me - this used to be the safety net I would seek out and hold onto desperately to in order to give my life structure. I don’t know what the antidote is but I know I need to step out and embrace my creative side again. I need to be embrace the unknown and allow creativity to flow back into my bones. It scares me as I really don’t really know how to achieve this. I feel like a priest who’s been asked to become an atheist or a dog being ordered to meow. I know what’s involved, I’ve seen other people do it, I just don’t have the tools available to make it the transition. I read the fantastic book ‘The Creative Habit’ by the choreographer Twyla Tharp which has been a great starting block for me as it’s practical and full of sound advice. No airy fairy crap most self-help books insist on preaching. I realise it’s just inexperience and fear that holds me back mostly. Practicality is also an issue, I simply don’t have the funds to suddenly be a full time writer or performer. I went to a talk given by Stephen Sondheim, a musical theatre hero mine and to many other theatre fans. He spoke about his mentor Oscar Hammerstein II and it made me think how envious I was the had someone in his life who saw enough potential in him to be something greater than he was. I’d quite like a mentor. A guiding and enthusing force of good in my life. I can lend my talents towards many things but my concentration and impatience tends to let me down. I am reminded of this constantly with the random notebooks full of ideas stuffed in various bags and boxes of mine, the half finished documents and scripts on my computer or the songs yet to be memorised and technically mastered. I do wonder if it’s cynicism, perhaps indecisiveness or even age that stops me from committing or just a life long habit I have failed to keep in check. To be great at one thing when I have the urge to do a hundred million things all at once. ‘Focus’ is the big word I need to remind myself of over the next few months.

Sorry, what was that?

A Couple of Screws...

2010-08-10T11:26:00.009+10:00

Those who know me know that last year I had an accident. Quite a big one. I broke my hands. Yes, that's right - in the plural sense. In fact, I broke eight bones in total - both wrists that now have what are affectionately known as 'Herbert Screws', some other small bones in my left hand and most significantly my left arm, which needed a 'Wolverine' style plate bolted into place. I only realised today, I never wrote in detail about how this happened but to cut a long story short: I was on a date.

You'd think this would have been quite an ordeal for me, well it was and quite hideously painful too (strange how I curiously never imagined broken bones to be that painful until then) This aside, the episode wasn't that surprising given my track record with dating; just ask my friends. So much so, when news of my injury reached my best friend back home in London, it didn't illicit a sympathetic and frantically worried call, no quite the opposite really. As I lay in the hospital bed with my arms bound in plaster and bandages, with my iPhone on speaker mode balanced precariously on my chest, I could hear the faint unimpressed voice of my friend Dan say "Richard, it's time to write that book now."

I've toyed with the idea of writing about my dating escapades every now and then, I've even posted a few of them on here - but a whole book? Too self indulgent and self deprecating perhaps? It sounded like a crazy idea before and too 'Bridget Jones' for my liking but now I'm thinking it might not be such an idiotic idea after all. Gay fiction in general makes me want to hurl into a cheap plastic carrier bag in front a room full of strangers and the only gay biographical authors I do admire are David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs. I'd have to have some message beyond "Hey look at the crazy dating antics of this guy, ain't he hysterical?!" Writing something bigger than a few paragraphs is what this blog has been leading up to I suppose; the trick is for me is to stop thinking and actually do more and just sit down and write goddamn it. Am I capable of doing it? I just have to let go of being such a perfectionist and allowing myself to be distracted by, let's face it, everything.

Where to start?

Here's the wonderful David Sedaris reading and extract from his last book "When You Are Engulfed In Flames":

Move On...

2010-07-24T10:40:00.017+10:00

"Stop worrying where you're going - move on. If you can know where you're going, you've gone. Just keep moving on." Dot professes to the confused artist George in the Sondheim musical, 'Sunday in the Park with George'.

Over two years ago I moved to Australia. Two years of radical change. Two years of self-discovery. Two years of rest and recuperation. Two years of growth. Two years that needed to happen. If my life was a movie, this would be the penultimate scene right before the end, where phrases like "Well, it's certainly been an adventure!" would be uttered and people would starting hugging each other goodbye as they march off into the sunset. This isn't the kind of adventure I've had at all really. I've still not seen Uluru or been to Western Australia, I've done a few touristy things but certainly not conquered the country or anything - I doubt I ever will either. I'm quite happy for the multitudes of backpackers to continue sampling Australia's sights and sounds I've missed. My adventure here was about prioritising my life, which I admit sounds as thrilling as a tax return party organised by Accountants of Dagenham, but honestly it's probably the best thing I've done with my life.

Not many people get to dissect their life and personality under the cold light of day but "snow globing my life" as I like to call it, has allowed me to do just that. Routine, fear of insecurity and delusion cloud most people from ever having to face this head on and is usually only reserved for for teenagers or 40 year olds going through a midlife crisis. For example, I realise I will always be more comfortable knowing I am doing the exact opposite to everyone else. I loathe it when something I love becomes popular with the masses so I prefer to move on - do something different. I also know I am my most happiest when I'm performing, working within the theatre, understanding 'an audience' and this is something I intend to rectify when I get back to city life.

I get annoyed when people assume I hate Sydney because I want to leave. Why would I want to abandon such a great lifestyle to return to noisy, expensive, economically unstable city they ask? I still think Sydney is a great place to live and fulfills a purpose with it's sun-drenched, hedonistic, carefree lifestyle which the city's inhabitants relish daily. This city has given me a tremendous amount and shown me I'm capable of achieving anything, that spontaneity has it's own unique rewards. You can get drunk on culture in London and thrive off the buzz of New York and a few years ago too much of this 'city life' became overwhelming but I now sorely miss this, I really do.

So, next steps? Well, they're partly out of my control. The one thing I'm sure of is that I have to move on.

Going Home...

2010-06-20T17:10:00.008+10:00

At the end of "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" the Pevensie children grow up to be great Kings and Queens after their adventures with Aslan, only to find themselves back in the real world after stumbling across the old lamp post that once brought them to the magical land of Narnia. Even though they have lived a lifetime, nothing has changed since Lucy first stepped through the wardrobe. Australia it seems is my Narnia. I've done a million and one things, grown personally and then some but back in London things haven't changed. I almost felt as though I was bragging unnecessarily when I told friends what I was doing with my life now, as if I was Edmund describing to a row of confused faces, how I slayed a White Witch and befriended a talking Lion.

It's only been two days and I can't quite process how I feel to be back yet, it's been ridiculously familiar but strangely divorced at the same time. Certain elements of my life here have either changed or feel redundant, whether it be my old bedroom or favourite cafe, banter between particular friends and so forth. There's certainly a small amount of personal grieving that comes with the fact nostalgia is the only thing that has kept certain experiences alive.

Thankfully, certain friends have never waivered, their faces beam like giant lighthouses guiding me back safely to what was so great about my life here. These are the people I have longed to spend even just five meager minutes with while I was in Australia. Their news - comforting, their friendship - easy.

So here I am, back in London after two and half years. Right now, and without sounding too new age, I feel as though 'my journey' isn't complete yet. I'm not ready to come home, if I can help it. New York is the definitely the next destination, I just need to secure that opportunity and it will happen. I'm ready for it. If I did have to return to the UK, it wouldn't be so terrible, it would just be harder as I'd have to make a conscious effort to move myself on and not slip back into routine. I've achieved so much since breaking away from my old life, so it would frustrating if I let it take over once more.

Like Edmund and Lucy, I'd like to ensure I have a few more trips back before I have to grow up and settle back home once more.

This Year I...

2009-12-31T15:43:00.004+11:00

... became permanent ... created a laughing buddha ... began looking after Glinda and Elphaba ... moved to the most famous beach in the world ... broke both my hands on a date ... got osteoporosis ... had my mum fly 10,000 miles to nurse me ... caught up with some old friends of Jerry ... hit a top C ... watched John Bucchino tinkle the ivories ... got a lawyer ... had physio ... made friends with Brazil and Adelaide ... saw Patti coming up roses ... chipped a tooth on a creme brulee ... was moved to tears by a singing bipolar grieving mother ... saw old friends in the Big Apple ... celebrated my first Thanksgiving ... experienced 30 mins of New York ice hockey ... hung out at Hollywood star's home in LA ... flew with Jack Bauer ... met a boy.

Stephen Fry's Best Bits...

2009-11-08T23:00:00.005+11:00

ON HIS COMEDY PARTNER HUGH LAURIE IN "HOUSE"
One of the hardest things to do is act smart. But you actually believe that he is intelligent (2006)

ASKED BY HIS SCHOOL CAREERS OFFICER WHAT JOB HE ENVISAGED FOR HIMSELF
School Careers Officer (1973)

ON TECHNOLOGY
I have never had fewer than 10 working Macs on the go since the late 80s (2007)

TO AN INTERVIEWER ON TV-AM
Not wishing – in any way – to correct you, but it is pronounced Worcester, not Wooster… in the same way that it's Woodhouse not Wodehouse (1992)

ON LIVING IN SWAFFHAM IN NORFOLK
You see it all. You see your hoody pikey chavvies, you see your happy-slapping. But it's leavened by a bit of fluffy Englishness and damp tweed. It's just what it should be (2007)

ON CONVERSATION AT CRICKET MATCHES
You don't get people going round saying: "Did it work for you?" and "It seems to me there's a sense in which…", like those awful scum on late-night BBC2 shows (1999)

ON TECHNICAL PROBLEMS
My life is a shattered bowl of arse (2009)

HOSTING A CHARITY EVENT
As the Archbishop of Canterbury likes to say: "That's enough tedious wank. Let's party!" (1991)

ON PHYSICAL CONGRESS
Sex does not enrich or deepen a relationship – it permanently cheapens and destabilises it (1985)

15 YEARS BEFORE "STEPHEN FRY ON AMERICA"
I get terribly depressed with the English obsession with America. These wasted little people with their baseball hats, who usually live in Newport Pagnell, who say: "Did you watch the Bears game yesterday?" Oh go away, go and live there, for God's sake (1992)

ON HIS DEMEANOUR
I have a smug air that I've done everything short of cutting my face open to try and get rid of (2009)

ON WEIGHT GAIN
I am currently developing myself for digital widescreen (1999)

AFTER BEING TOLD, BY ONE OF ALMOST ONE MILLION FOLLOWERS, THAT HIS TWEETS WERE "A BIT BORING"
You've convinced me. I'm obviously not good enough. I retire from Twitter. Bye everyone (2009)

HOSTING "QI"
Welcome to QI, the show that rhymes with Stephen Fry (2006)

Taken from The Observer article by John Hind, 8 November 2009

Nobel Gestures...

2009-10-11T11:23:00.011+11:00

Lest we forget, 10 months ago one man gave America and the rest of the world included, the hope it needed to convince themselves that 'hope' was possible in times of a global crisis. A global crisis we are still enduring and fighting to overcome. For a period of time, we acknowledged this significant moment in history for what it was and gave it the attention it rightly deserved, attention usually reserved for Angelina Jolie's children or Lindsay Lohan's rehab exploits. America recognised to move on. The nation needed to change its future, its attitude and President Elect Obama was to be this symbol of inspiration. In a frank and anticipated moment before Election Day, people were worried this time in their bruised and battered history would never happen, that another inept, uncharismatic Republican would be elected again and all hopes would be dashed in finally electing someone of true revolutionary value. But the totally unthinkable actually came true. Obama was finally voted into office. A "Goddam black man" as a bemused Texan plantation owner would say, became the most powerful man in the western world.

America needed this to happen. Hell, the whole world needed Obama. So we looked up too. That's right, we took noticed of American politics in a way we never had before and he engaged us with his eloquence and promised with staid humility he would do his best to make his country great again and give his nation the respect from the rest of the world once more. For the first time, cynics were subdued for a little while as we allowed ourselves to be carried by the swell.

But only for a little while.

What is interesting about this week's announcement that President Obama is to be this year's recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, is the fact he himself has been first up to the block to express his complete surprise of being nominated and recognise he has yet to fulfill such a legacy worthy of such a distinguished prize. Despite Obama's seemingly lack of credentials, I congratulate him on receiving the Nobel Peace Prize. No, he has not created schools in desolate areas of a third world country or championed civil rights in a part of the world with an oppressive regime. He has yet to fulfill his legacy and like the rest of the world, I hope he lives up to his promise. Obama has done what anyone in his position would do, he has taken the accolade with humility and vowed to do his best to live up to it. Yes, we should be questioning the decisions of Nobel jury, bestowing a prize of this nature puts enormous pressure on him to succeed and is somewhat preemptive. I imagine Republicans are smacking their hands together in glee and anticipation to see "the Great Obama" being set up once again for an even greater fall from grace. It gives the opposition the opportunity to attack and pour criticism over Obama's lack of achievements since he entered the White House. To me, this makes as much sense as attacking Sean Pean for winning Best Actor last year and not the Academy who voted for him.

I worry about the danger of, dare I use the word 'mankind's pessimism'. For us to be united and overcome issues like the global recession or nuclear weapons development, we have to change our mindset and we have to work together. I realise this is an idealistic notion to demand from the cynical selfish world we live in, but past history shows us we are capable of achieving great things in times of crisis if forces work in unison. Is it necessary we have to endure another 9/11 or plunge into further economic crisis for us to be able to do this? Do we really have to perpetuate politician's skepticism so they can prove a point and live up to the reputation of being all rhetoric and no substance or do we allow ourselves to give into something greater? Unfortunately, I have no grand answers to this but I do feel it's important to at least, in some small way, stand up and say "I'm with you, I support what you're doing". I am grateful and have huge admiration for the one man who has managed to get me more politicised and more interested in government than any other politician I've known in my lifetime. I'm probably not the only one who has been influenced by President Obama in this small but important way either. We live in an apathetic world. Where more people vote for the X Factor than in their local elections. We have either been jaded by far too much rhetoric in the past or have grown up simply not caring anymore. But now we have a potential new generation who are inspired again by politics. Now to be able to do that especially for Gen Y, well, that does needs rewarding.

Who Are These People Bill?...

2009-09-28T23:58:00.006+10:00

Watch this video for the launch of Windows 7. Actually, you won't watch all of it as you will be left dumbstruck within the first minute.

Who are these people? Are they actually suggesting I host a party to launch a Windows programme? Are they that desperate for people to use this new system they have to hire actors to pretend this is normal behaviour? I'd like to remind Microsoft of the Apple advertising campaigns. Did they honestly think these ads would surpass them somehow? As you can see by the number of question marks used in my first paragraph alone, it has baffled me completely how an ad campaign like this could ever be approved. Actually, scrub that thought, having worked in the industry for far too long, I should know better. There is probably more to write about this hilarious travesty but I will leave you to absorb its great banality for now.

Consumer Advice...

2009-08-09T23:38:00.005+10:00

Fantastic. Charlie Brooker has just described Transformers 2 as:

"being pinned to the ground while an angry dishwasher shat in your face for two hours."

I never tire of this man's adept use of words. Genius in a pent up ball of journalistic frustration. More from the "miserable writerist" can be found here.

Funny Guy...

2009-07-26T11:32:00.030+10:00

This man goes on my BFM list. A list I've not talked about in a while actually, in fact I think I skipped a whole year as I compiled my list back in 2007. Probably because my enthusiasm for the male variety of the species has waned over the years. Someone really has to 'knock my socks off' you know, they really do.

Sorry, I digress. This is Seth MacFarlane.

You'd probably recognise his voice more than his face. As he is the creator of Family Guy. Also the writer, producer and the voice of Peter, Stewie, Brian and Quagmire . He is also the creator of American Dad, The Cleveland Show and is the highest paid producer in television. He's at that level of ridiculously, talented, rich, smart and funny that makes your arsehole quiver with jealousy.

So Seth qualifies. And if I lived in LA, I'd be trying to casually brush past him in Starbucks or something. I can hear the school girl mutterings and the suppressed laughter of those who are thinking "Fancying a multi-millionaire now that's an original one". Work with me here people. It's my online fantasy list who else am I meant to be putting on here?

So what does my 2009 BFM LIST look like now?

DANIEL BOYS - ACTOR.
Musical Theatre performer and current star of Avenue Q in the West End. An incredibly successful career since losing 'Any Dream Will Do' and has even done a duet with John Barrowman singing 'I Know Him So Well'. He's also the only one on my list I've actually met. Three times. All occasions slightly awkward. And of which all portrayed me as slightly weird.

STEPHEN OREMUS - MUSICAL ARRANGER / DIRECTOR.
Another Theatre Type. A highly respected man who has worked on Wicked, Avenue Q and most recently 9 to 5: The Musical. Has also worked with the likes of Rufus Wainwright on his Judy Garland tribute at the London Palladium. Looks great from behind holding a baton too.

STEVE GROVE - HEAD OF NEWS & POLITICS FOR YOUTUBE.
Came to my attention during the 2008/2009 Election Campaign in America with his insights and commentary on Citizentube. Even took the time to reply to my Facebook message. Also has eyes you could drown in and gives me hope brains and beauty is actually possible in a man. I have an odd feeling though he probably has a girlfriend called something irritatingly cliched like 'Mandy' or 'Cassie'.

MARK RUFFALO - ACTOR.
First noticed him in 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' then really fell for the bearded one in 'We Don't Live Here Anymore'. Tends to be cast as the long suffering boyfriend type in his more mainstream movies when he's not doing the more interesting stuff like 'In the Cut' and 'Zodiac'. Which is more than fine by me.

AARON SORKIN - SCREENWRITER.
The man behind 'The West Wing'. Need I say more. He is a genius amongst men. I would have his babies if I could learn how to write just a fraction of what he's capable of. Plus he once dated Kristen Chenoweth, so he obviously likes short people who sing loudly.

SETH MACFARLANE - TV PRODUCER/WRITER/ACTOR.
Creator of 'Family Guy' and all round creative genius with the same twisted warped, controversial sense of humour as myself. A man who can make me laugh goes a long way. Well enough about Seth. I've dedicated this entry to him which is far too much fawning for one day.

If I think of anymore I'll just update this entry. Still musing if Hugh Jackman should go on there or not again. Right, back to the real world and the plethora of men who wait at my door. Why do I suddenly feel like Mr Banks about to interview nannies in Mary Poppins just then?

Temporary...

2009-06-20T23:55:00.009+10:00

I watched John Bucchino tonight. Yes, you know John Bucchino? John? Okay I admit, I didn't know who he was either until about a month ago. I was first introduced to his music when Jeremy picked one of his songs for me to sing. I did a bit of digging and downloading and discovered a whole wealth of staggeringly beautiful songs. Many of which have been sung by Broadway greats such as Liza Minnelli, Kristen Chenoweth, Patti Lupone etc. He's also penned a lesser known musical called 'A Catered Affair'. I've fallen in love with his music a bit as it's the right combination of wry humour and the bittersweet that I love to sing about. He's friends with Stephen Sondheim and Stephen Schwartz apparently. I don't know if they've had any direct influence with his writing but I wouldn't be surprised if they have. He performed a amazing little number tonight about simply chatting up a good-looking bar man and fantasizing about taking him home. It was both awkward, candid and hilariously real. I'm currently learning his song 'Not A Cloud In The Sky' about an obsessive, control freak who is trying not to flip out about the fact his lover is actually dying of AIDS. I know it doesn't sound like a bundle of laughs but check his songs out, I dare you not to be moved by them.

Here is a video of a very talent lady called Patti Loach singing 'Temporary', a song of he wrote involving how a mother explains to her young son why his father who is off fighting in some war, might not come home. I love this song, it's so tender and loving and heartbreaking at the same time. The camera work is dodgy at the start but the sound quality is pretty good for a self recorded video.

Politics and Love...

2009-05-30T11:59:00.013+10:00

It still mystifies me how allowing two people to 'marry' regardless of who they are, somehow denigrates another person's ideology regarding the definition of marriage. I see a couple recognising their partnership being based on love, commitment, being able to express this to each other and with family and loved ones. This is only thing that matters when it comes down to the proverbial brass tacks. The framework to how this 'partnership' or 'marriage' is founded upon varies throughout so many different countries, cultures, religions and beliefs. Marriage by definition cannot be defined by one sect.

I must mention now, I am not talking about the legal definition of marriage, as this has a different agenda and meaning when it comes to law and politics. Government, taxes and your bank manager don't care who you are unless there's an economic advantage to it. Political equality is never seemingly about social equality these days unless for an election rally. Hence politicians and their reluctance to lobby for it and frequently clouding the issue when there is no due cause fight for it. It is usually up those personally driven to lead the way and stir up social discussion. Matt Alber, a LA based gay singer songwriter wrote in his blog about moving away from the traditional campaigning for gay rights and focusing on taking a different approach and building it up from a grassroots level: in the home, at school, in the workplace. Only then will people realise we lead quite average, everyday lives just like our straight counterparts.

The definition of the word 'marriage' has been the key issue that has got Americans in California to uphold Proposition 8 this week. It is the only reason why many people voted against it. Many who upheld Prop 8, saw it as an infringement against their own belief system or 'way of life'. How Greg and Alex's marriage plans in San Francisco affects Helen the devout Catholic and her family in San Diego is beyond me. But this is how it has been fed to the masses and I feel for people like Matt who have had to suffer directly because of this awful politically driven, ill-informed decision making.

How does one protect 'marriage' in a world where there are increasing divorce rates amongst hetrosexual couples who are allowed to marry in the first place? Statistics show in countries where gay marriage is legalised, the divorce rate is significantly lower with gay couples than their straight counterparts. This belief system of protecting marriage is only ever weakened by those whose abuse the meaning and by those whose use a doctrine of faith to irrationally argue against the issue in question, having to resort to quoting scripture and using blanket condemnation. It's hard enough to say 'I love you' and really mean it, so it's awful to be denied the chance to say it when opportunity does come along. Stirring more intolerance and division in a world that is becoming increasingly smaller and more homogenized, saddens my heart a great deal. I have no answers to this issue, as we are all different. We should learn to just let the other side live but that will never realistically happen. There is much unhappiness in the world, if two people find love whether gay, Nazis or a pair of Fresian cows, it seems an awful waste of misguided energy and bitterness to fight against it. We should be celebrating the one part of human nature that makes us wonderful and unique after all.

As corny as it sounds we should be letting love hold hands with whoever it likes.

Poor Susan...

2009-05-26T19:58:00.009+10:00

Oh dear. Ms Boyle fucked up on live television.

Yet the public continue to clap wildly as if the Emperor truly was wearing garments made from the finest silks in all the land.

She sang off key and for a moment became the incredibly average spinster who is a tad mental but who could carry the odd tune, the woman she always has been basically. Not the 'National Treasure' we've been told to clutch to our cynical bosom.

Oh how hearts must have sunk yesterday. Yet the media has already sold us the idea of 'Susan Boyle' so we can't go back on our word now surely? She's still an inspiration to us all. A "beacon of light in our dark tunnels" as Princess Diana herself once admitted in her own televised meltdown. Of course back then, the phrase the media embraced was the 'Queen of People's Hearts' and not the previous more revealing line that, well, made her also sound a tad mental.

I posted on my Facebook status that I had more talent in my left ball sack than Susan Boyle and have been immediately harangued and accused of being jealous and incredibly unsupportive.

How amusing. Of what exactly?

So, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do, Re....

2009-05-01T17:04:00.007+10:00

Just watching this makes me feel so happy I could cry. Which I realise is quite possibly the soppiest thing ever for me to do. Must be the inner 'Julie Andrews' trilling inside me. If only the world was this spontaneous and well choreographed.

Pure Genuis! Great ad campaign for the Belgiums too.

Politics Did Get Sexier...

2009-04-20T15:36:00.008+10:00

I forgot to tell you I actually got a message from Steve Grove, Head of News & Politics for YouTube after the U.S. Elections. It's short but made me giddy like a school girl for a mere life enhancing five minutes. You have to love Facebook for just being able to let this communication even happen!

How A Dream Is Seen...

2009-04-19T11:37:00.013+10:00

As much as I am overjoyed for Susan Boyle from Blackburn being propelled into the limelight for singing 'I Dreamed A Dream' on the reality TV Show 'Britain's Got Talent', I can't help getting angry once again at the media's thrust and moral lecturing they've inflicted on the general public because she is old, frumpy but exceptionally talented and has now captured the nation's hearts so to speak. As if we weren't aware that these people existed until now. Like these individuals such as Ms Boyle and Paul Potts are kept in a box marked 'Average Overly Talented People: Do Not Open - In Case of Media Shut Down Emergencies Only'. There are articles everywhere now, I believe the Daily Mail in it's usual derivative style described her as a 'hairy angel', Entertainment Weekly in the States is prime example of a publication assuming we are as fickle and uneducated as they are. Lisa Schwarzbaum enlightens us by saying:

"She pierced my defenses. She reordered the measure of beauty. And I had no idea until tears sprang how desperately I need that corrective from time to time."

The Times says she offers "redemption for the sin of superficiality"

My instant reaction to these epiphanies and serious introspection to what is essentially, lest we all forget, a talented 47 year old singing a showtune on ITV who are desperate for any publicity to increase their ratings, was to exclaimed the words "Oh For Fuck Sake" very loudly.

Hopefully, I am making up for my lack of eloquence now. Again, I feel saddened that the general public do not speak up and demand a more educated insight from its media. Maybe I should be more accepting of the fact most of the general public are plain simple and demand very little to be swayed in a certain direction by such expert manipulators. How I sometimes wish working in the media hadn't also turned me into such a cynical bastard, just so I could just 'enjoy the ride' like the rest of the hoi polloi. But I can't help thinking most of the time, our relationship with the media is as if we're in the passenger seat of a Ferrari being driven by a 17 year old whose just got his licence - we're loving the journey and feel of it all but forgetting the experience of the person behind the wheel. Perhaps I have an affinity towards an abused underdog and will always be maddened at people's miraculous discovery that none of us should be judged on our appearance. Still the PR treadmill churns full steam ahead without my opinion or grimace. I'm even writing about it on my blog when I should be telling you all about my broken limbs. So the programmers publicity team will be pleased.

Whatever happens to Susan Boyle, I hope she manages to work on her lower register, As if I was being completely honest here, it was a little shaky and Elaine Paige will no doubt notice it if they do a duet together. More importantly, I hope she manages to find someone to look after her cat Pebbles while she is whisked off to another world called Fame.

And onto Sydney to seek a gentlemen of worth and value...

2009-04-13T15:28:00.012+10:00

Dearest Elinor,

It has been many months since my last correspondence with you and I must immediately apologise for my tardiness and the long and overdue period of silence that has left you bereft of information regarding my new situation here in Sydney.

Ever since my ship has set sail to the Colonies in the Pacific, my journey has been one of ardor and enlightenment. Certainly, the degree of which I have embraced my new life has been dictated by the necessary arrangements to feel at home in my new surroundings, but I am pleased to inform you I feel very settled indeed in my new home.

Now, I hear you inquire, about these men of the New World? I believe you must be quite eager to hear my stories of social and coital engagements with the surly gentlemen of this fine coutry, whom may I add, know no nothing of high tea or of grand balls in Meryton. Be patient no more dearest Elinor and I shall reveal all.

The search for love and a suitable single man in command of good fortune continues still, I am afraid to report. There have been two or three significant encounters during my travels of the 'Wilderness' they call Sydney. Traversing through the lanes of the Eastern Suburbs I have met a number of significant gentlemen who were fair of face and of good breeding. I use the word 'significant' to emphasise the fact there were others who caught my eye. But alas, unfortunately this is all they did. For certainty, I might as well have caught a head cold and experienced greater joy and pleasure from the experience of meeting them.

The men of this country are a predictable breed I have deduced. Many of the maturer gentlemen pride themselves in their appearance and groom themselves quite intensely and 'work out' a great deal. This gives many the illusion of youth and vigor but does nothing to improve their seemingly apparent lack of personality and individualism. The more younger of the men who parade down Sydney's Oxford St are also bereft of any individuality, due to the fact they are hypnotised by the latest fashions from the city and seem to have the desire to leave their hair unkempt, as if dragged through a thoroughfare. They also have no skills in punctuation, spelling or grammar when it comes to correspondence through telephonic or 'on the line' devices. The ghastly over use of 'LOL', 'dat', 'wud' and 'kewl' are abundant and quite frankly leaves conversation incomprehensible.

Everything is not at a complete lost however, for I have also encountered some genuine and rather chivalrous men indeed in my travels. One who has redeemed a fair amount of faith I had previously lost in the process of courtship by behaving as an utmost gentlemen towards me, even though our own courtship together tragically was not to last. Others have been spontaneous and dare I say it wild and would cause any fine lady to blush if spoken openly even in a letter. I am wicked woman for allowing my petticoat to slip even an inch below the knee, let alone shoot past the ankle and onto the parlor floor. I do hope you do not judge me so dear Elinor, for you should know I am not a woman who sits comfortably with the label of 'easy virtue'. Truly I am. But in confidence my dear friend, I have to admit, it has been quite pleasurable indeed.

All experiences for the soul to grow my friend, I have decided. I find myself happily embracing the 'single life', a phrase much more preferential than the term 'spinster' I can tell you. I move on, clutching the hem of my dress and marching towards the Australian sunset and the rest of my future in a new world full of potential.

Until pen meets parchment once more, my love as always.

Yours, Emily.

Things you notice when you're arms are in casts...

2009-03-31T18:24:00.022+11:00

• You hear "Got yourself into a bit of trouble I see" and "Been in the wars?" a lot.

• You can justify wearing all your loose baggy, shapeless clothes.

• There is no dignified way of wiping your own arse unless you do the more undignified act of letting someone else do it for you.

• Mere buttons and pistachios become Zen like puzzles to overcome.

• There are amazing uses for other body parts, for example your heel can be used to clean the buttocks.

• You get hit on.

• Strangers give you the sympathetic head tilt.

• Some strangers will still walk straight into you on purpose.

• Shoelaces aren't worth thinking about.

• Googling similar bone surgery operations to your own is not a good idea.

• Door handles and keys inside locks are the enemy.

• Sleep deprivation is something you have to get used to.

• Pink puss is not good.

• TV Box Sets save you from insanity.

• You tire of having to explain your injury to yet another shop assistant.

• You begin concocting new stories of how you got your injury - 'a Ferris Wheel accident' is one and 'saving Brazilian orphans from a house fire' is another.

• 'Bath Time' is an experience as thrilling as a five hour German opera.

• You can't go shopping. A packet of crisps becomes a three course evening meal.

• Your social life diminishes to the level of a 5 year old's.

• You are continually amazed who offers you their seat on the bus and more surprisingly at those who don't.

• The whole thing becomes incredibly tedious. So very, very tedious.

On the go...

2009-02-24T08:49:00.001+11:00

Apparently, now I succumbed to the world of new technology and bought myself an iPhone, I can now post entries to my blog whilst I'm on the go! This is quite a thrilling concept as I'm hoping it will encourage me write more.
-- Post From My iPhone

At work today I...

2009-02-15T21:41:00.006+11:00

I happened to be in a client meeting today, where halfway through as I sat on my synthetic county council chair, my sinuses were triggered by the distinctive smell of talcum powder and hard boiled sweets. I realised then, I was the only one under 45 years old. To thwart the manacles of advertising and be free I'm probably going to have to put up with these flaccid moments of realisation for a little while longer. Dear God.

365 days in Oz...

2009-01-29T18:15:00.006+11:00

"Fine, if you don't ask for details" was Katharine Hepburn's response to anyone who asked her how she was. I have been exerting a similar response to any enquiries about how my visa application was progressing. I seem to have applied for it in the most traumatic way possible; my application being delivered at the eleventh hour, my boss handling the employer side of the application resigning from our company and checking himself into a clinic for bipolar disorder and suicide watch, down to minor irritating issues, such as my passport photo in the envelope of my police check submission in the UK having an ink smudge all over it thus rendering it unusuable. It has been a 'barrel of laughs' and I have been lucky to get through it and not have the nightmarish concept of having to return home to the blistering cold weather of England. I must have spent over $3,000 (£1600) on this entire process. Yet through all the complications I am here. I am staying or should I say, I have the choice to stay.

It will be exactly a year since I arrived on these fair shores next Thursday (5th Feb). Australia Day being the day I unwittingly had my leaving do in my local pub in Herne Hill. I have the opportunity and the flexibilty to do whatever I desire now without a ticking clock buzzing inside my cranium.

Freedom of choice, no matter how inconsequential it is, is worth going out on a limb for.

Every Little Step...

2009-01-03T09:43:00.004+11:00

Oh. My. God. (Richard flaps his arms and screams like a little girl)

EVERY LITTLE STEP: Movie Trailer - For more funny movies, click here

This Year I...

2008-12-31T11:57:00.004+11:00

... said goodbye to the best friends anyone could ever have ... moved over 10,000 from home and set up my new life ... listened to ABBA non-stop for 6 months ... made some new friends Down Under ... learned to love mushrooms ... saw 'Wicked' for the 4th time ... almost worked for Cate Blanchett ... laughed so much in Melbourne I cried ... cried so much in Sydney I laughed ... found a few old friends ... learned how to read music ... discovered one of my best friends is pregnant ... freaked out at Australia's capital city ... reached a high C ... swam in the ocean on Christmas Day ... had a private pool party on NYE ...

Happy New Year! And so on we go into 2009.

Hope 2009...

2008-12-26T20:02:00.008+11:00

Whatever the next 12 months may bring and how it will affect myself, my friends, loved ones and people all over the world, it goes without saying the underlying theme we all seem to have for our future is an urgency for hope.

Not since the following months after September 11th, has the whole world come together, through a mutual plight against economic struggle, fear of terrorism and personal traumas, to hold their breath in unison and pray for a resolution to come that will make everyone's life a little bit less of a struggle. I know am lucky compared to others round the world who are still facing violence and atrocities I cannot even comprehend, but I have experienced on an intimate level the fact there are few friends I know right now, who have not had to struggle, all of them have a sense of desperate uncertainty in their voice when they talk about the next year may bring. Along with this though, there is a undeniable sense of determination that the year head will not and cannot be as bleak as the media, economists and politicians have predicted. I am not talking about blinkered naivety, more the sheer will to remain mentally intact during the adversity yet to come.

It has been fascinating to me to see how the world has reacted to this. A media-driven, often shallow and certainly at times seemingly heartless world has continued it's bleak and foreboding forecast of the future, misunderstanding the minds and hearts of us all by perpetuating the far too familiar tones to which over the last decade we have become accustomed to. Although this is not what the world wants or needs right now and voices have broken free and people have stood up to offer us a new line of thinking. The new President-Elect Barack Obama has come to epitomise this. I am not suggesting through my obsession with American politics, he is the most important figurehead of all those who have demanded more from the world we co-exist in, there are many 'unsung' voices, but he certainly is one of the most relevant right now. What Obama does represent is how a world has taken a simple message to their heart, a message long overdue and pure and straight talking. Obama's succinct, self-assured, humble message speaks for us all. For it is the American's people's voice, their will to begin with, that he has shaped his message from. He has been ingenious with his election campaign, asking for the American public to speak out, campaign for him, make his voice their own and vice-versa. It has also been beyond the typical campaigning fare and biased clout we are familiar with. He has risen above the usual slander, remained true to his message and candid in his approach. And the world in return has stood up and taken notice of this former Governor of Illinois. We have embraced him as a true revolutionary and I can think of only John F Kennedy who has managed to capture the nation's spirit during their period of history so perfectly. In turn, Obama has promised to deliver a transparent government accessible to all. He has used the internet to make this possible, much as he did during his campaign, each policy and discussion available online, for anyone to comment, contribute and question. The cynic in all of us can try to laugh it off as a cunning and clever campaign strategy, but so what if it is, it's what the world needs right now and to question the motives behind this new hope, is to somehow be pessimistic and wanting the world to fall flat on its face.

I am particularly enraptured by how the world has taken to the incumbent President of the United States. Literally embracing him to a point as, not necessarily their surrogate leader, but someone who represents the values they need in their own country, their own neighbour, their own state of mind. I look at the politics back home in the UK and no one even comes close to having the same spirit-level of leadership Obama has. I know having spoken to my sister in New York, election day was an incredibly momentous 24 hours and also especially poignant and personal event for many Americans in the process. We need to be listened to right now, now more than ever, we no longer want to be spoon-fed by a closed government and a petty and unforgiving media intent of breaking any ounce of hope we have, we need to have someone who is unashamedly truthful, smart, who demands us to be intelligent and accountable for our own actions and who most importantly inspires greatness in all of us during this current climate. I am surprised this voice has come from America, a place perceived as the source of what is 'wrong with the modern world'. Arrogant and crass and ignorant of others. But here we are, looking towards the USA for a reason to be hopeful.

So what does 2009 hold for us? Well for certain, we have to begin looking ahead with sense of purpose and renewed hope, not on the world scale I've just talked about, but within our own immediate lives. It will be the only thing I feel that will keep us grounded and positive.

Keith Olbermann Comment on Proposition 8...

2008-12-22T23:38:00.003+11:00

Very rare for a person's words to move me so much, but this did. What with Obama's Presidential Nomination speech being incredibly inspiring, I am truly thrilled at the long overdue eloquence that seems to be coming from America.

70/30...

2008-12-15T00:19:00.001+11:00

Well, I maybe here a little longer. The company I'm temping at have decided to nominate my permanent visa application.

Another step towards my future.

Obamanation!...

2008-12-04T22:13:00.005+11:00

One thing fell foul during the nomination of Barack Obama becoming President. Proposition 8. At least they're campaigning to set things right again. Here's hoping they see sense and get back on track. Meanwhile something that made me laugh concerning said situation, which also features amongst other famous faces, the fantastic Neil "Doogie Howser M.D. and now Broadway Star and Gay' Patrick Harris and my all time favourite actress Allison Janney:

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

50/50...

2008-12-01T00:00:00.008+11:00

So my time is nearly up. The Clock is ticking. The 'Countdown' theme tune is gradually being turned up to remind me I've not long to go find myself a sponsor so I can stay in this country. Two months to be exact. I've been aware the last few entries on this thing haven't been exactly positive, well, it's been a hard couple of months for everyone it seems, and many factors out of my control have made it a hard slog for me while I settle into my new life. Being able to settle down so to speak hasn't been easy with the looming 'credit crunch' (or 'lunch' or 'munch' as my friend Becky describes it) which the UK have so fondly decided to rename the recession. Over here we can say the 'R' word without financial analysts slapping us down, pressing their bony fingers to their pursed lips or having the media leap up, relishing being able to put the fear of God up our 'budget conscious' arses.

Moving to Australia has most definitely been a positive move for me - it has! There's no need to jab a finger into my side to remind me I've not exactly been happy these past few months. Truth be told, it's been expected and not at all surprising I've experienced the recent hardships, what with everything going around me in the big wide world and the decision to uproot my life and plonk it somewhere alien and distant. I can see now how my life would have continued it's endless cycle without the much needed 'kick up the arse' I so desperately needed. I am not alone. I only need to talk to my new found friend of mine to discover this. I have witnessed the best of times and the worst of times. Within myself and within my new life I have created. I need to remind myself what I have done is an incredible achievement and many people would never dare dream of taking the risk, opting for the comfort of familiarity rather then the vast potential of the unknown. I can tell you now the yearning for familiarity has been an intoxicating pull at times, especially when things haven't been going to plan. A naive part of me didn't expect it to be such a draw after leading quite a transient life up until the age of 18. Being in this country is far more than going to a place where it's sunnier. A cliche response I hear from many who remind me that life back home is 'the same and the weather is miserable' and I have to remind them the meteorological differences were never the catalyst for my my decision to come here.

So come January, I either begin my visa application and employer nomination application or I start packing my bags and heading home. How do I feel about this? Well, right now. 50/50 either way. Straight down the middle. There are pros and cons on either side and I teeter on a see-saw, wobblying in a fragile fashion, as every minor comment I hear or recent experience makes me lean one way or the other. I do have to remind myself if I went home now, what would I be going home to. 'To what?' exactly is the big behemoth of a question I have to write in big fat marker pen and place right in front of my face. This is the main reason to keep on going here. If I am true to myself, there is no 'going back' option for me right now. For it means I'd be going backwards. If I return it has to be because I have learned as much as I can from being here as possible and be excited to return home, to family and friends so I could start another chapter in my life and not because I have no other option. I know practically and financially it may not be possible to stay but I have to keep pursuing and ensuring I can create a life out here.

The next few weeks will undoubtedly give me the answers I'm looking for, with or without my help.

And another thing about Australia...

2008-11-11T12:37:00.004+11:00

More observations about the country I currently live in.

• Having basically only two newspapers (The Australian and The Sydney Morning Herald) to chose from in this city is bliss.

• Australian women loathe Nicole Kidman as much as we loathe Keira 'The Chin' Knightley.

• People traveling on their own instinctively get into the front seat of taxi cabs.

• Sausages (Snags) are long, smooth in taste and generally disappointing.

• The weather in this country is not designed for umbrellas and nobody believes in raincoats apart from tourists.

• Tuna in cans is actually pink.

• Wholemeal bread is just white bread with brown specks.

• Chocolate does melt in this country despite all the rank additives and sugar they put in it.

• They sell Christmas cards with snow over here. Why?

• Smoothies are very popular but surprisingly unhealthy for you.

• It is 'Cash Out' and not 'Cash Back' at the tills.

A Positive After Thought...

2008-10-26T16:51:00.004+11:00

It started with a friend of mine saying he was ‘over gay men’, his search to reclaim an identity over his life had even thrown up the possibility of having sex with a woman as a result. Whatever reason behind this; out of curiosity, partly confusion, a desire for change or to gain control over his life, I felt perhaps my friend had considered his gay life had now become tiresome and perhaps irrelevant to him. It would be a natural assumption to question his sexuality or motives, which I did initially, but I found it stirred more intimate questions about my own life and needs.

I have spent my life trying to a fit into a group of people who never seem to give me what I really want - love and happiness. Gay life is perceived as a very competitive, materialistic and superficial world that is very unforgiving to many and for some like myself, we have come out of it bruised and disillusioned by what it promises to offer. I know I am not alone when I say my sexuality is only relevant to me and to nobody else, therefore the supposed way of life I must commit to is in fact no longer relevant to me. I ask only for a loving committed relationship with a man. No more, no less. I do not ask for conformity, expectations and the rules that come with my sexual preference. I am happy to be me and I ask for nothing more. If finding one person who could love and support me in equal measure, came with the condition I had to retreat from gay culture and all the trappings that came with it, I would happily say goodbye to it all right now. Without doubt or any regret. It’s never been a part of me. On occasion I perhaps fall into particular stereotypical behaviour but this is unintentional and most likely unavoidable. Those characteristics have never defined me. I don’t want to fight against them anymore either just so I can feel validated by either the straight or the gay world. What do those terms even mean? It is one world and we are all so very unique. I have no reason to fight to be accepted by my gay peers anymore, it is thankless task which makes no one, especially me, happy. I become the only one with an internal struggle. They have a life I do not want. I do not want to struggle with demons anymore. I am proud and happy to be who I am. Would my life be easier and happier if I was born straight, who knows? What matters is my identity is my own and I don’t have to justify it to anyone. If others disapprove or disagree, I no longer care what they think. I've done too much worrying about what others think. I love my individuality and it’s time to embrace it properly and claim it as my own.

Poof, Breeder or Confused?

2008-10-22T21:16:00.006+11:00

As a gay man, people tend to ask you questions about sexuality. What's that all about I here you say? I know, peculiar isn't it?

I had a conversation with my new friend Annie and her husband Mike on Sunday. It always fascinates me what people ask, what they understand and how they perceive the subject. Most of the time, probably due to the company I keep, it's insightful, grounded and thought provoking. Occasionally you find someone who can't see beyond the 'Mr Humphries' stereotype, but they're quite rare to find nowadays under the age of 45.

I am envious of the younger generation (Jesus, I felt old typing that just now) who are able to come out and be surrounded by culture that embraces and celebrates their sexuality. Of course, it doesn't necessarily make it easier for the individual to come to terms with it but it certainly helps. I do wish I had the support network and the confidence when I decided to open my mouth and say those awfully difficult two words "I'm Gay". My friends were fantastic but there was no one else in my situation I knew well enough to confide in and grow up with, asking those pertinent intimate questions that only we'd have the nerve to ask each other and which perhaps I still want to ask now.

There is a set of presumptions many make about gay men. Beyond the obvious that is. One of which is many assume gay men are sexually confident as we are open to what we prefer in the bedroom, that gay men are the most open minded of people after experiencing first-hand prejudice, and that we happy to go against the grain and not be like the rest of straight society.

The wiser of you know those characteristics can be quite ridiculous, gay people are as different as the minutes in the day (actually scrub that analogy as my life is quite monotonous at the moment but you get my meaning). You'd think this goes without saying but time and time again, I am asked the same questions, people assume certain preconceptions and I am forever having to say 'Well I'm different. I'm me" and the debate or discussion commences. It always fascinates me.

Our discussion on Sunday raised a far more important issue, one of Identity and Conformity. Human nature requires labels to categorize and create a sense of order, so society can feel comfortable. If we do not fit a certain box, we try another, then another, until they fit. If one cannot be found, these unique few are considered an outsider or worse still, a freak.

I've "fought against the system" myself. (like Michelle Pfeiffer would do in Dangerous Minds but without the irritating mainstream rap music). I try not to define myself with certain characteristics and beliefs. It gives you freedom and independence but there is a price to pay. You don't fit in. Anywhere it seems. Fine for a natural hermit but for a socially dependent person like myself it doesn't make life easy. I like to play with the preconceptions about me, sometimes live up to them, other times do quite the opposite. I am exactly what you think I am maybe on face value but if you dig deeper, know me a little better, that mould slips away to reveal something quite different for those lucky few I call my close friends.

Or am I in fact yet another stereotype in the making, who knows?

Even Cliche Can Force You To Do Something Real...

2008-10-19T21:54:00.004+11:00

I've spent the last 48 hours speaking to a variety of people. Family. Old friends. New friends. People who have known me all my life, some for years, some only for a few months. I've listened to many voices, all of which have been such huge source of comfort and wisdom to me. It's woken me up a bit. Like I've been shaken like a flimsy Victorian Doll and now I have some perspective back into my life. The 'tough love' as those annoying therapists call it, has forced me to face up to the reality of my situation.

It's taken me to be emotionally stripped down and to be on my own in a strange country to realise what is important to me. Despite my current hardships, I am learning what is missing in my life and that this is bigger than the usual daily grind and the obstacles life throws at us. It's bigger than not having a job, or having someone to share my life with, or not having friends in a new country. It's not even about moving to a new place. It's about what makes me happy and to perhaps as the cliche goes, "Learn to love myself" and "find a new direction". It's a good thing that this is happening to me, despite the fact I feel as though I'm going through a human grinder. It will take time. It certainly won't happen over night but I need to keep faith and remain true to myself so I can "be that change".

A part of me winces hugely like a five year old taking some hideous cough medicine as I consider using these prosaic self-help lines to justify my life decisions, but there is no other way to describe it and I have to admit, there maybe a lot of common sense in them. I can see Paul Coehlo or Deepak Chopra now (see picture above), arms folded, smarmy smile directed right at me, jabbing his stubby looking finger at me, whilst saying "See I told you. And you dared to mock my book".

I don't mean to be grandiose or cringe worthy. I just want things to go in positive and different direction. And don't worry, I'm aware this blog needs more anecdotal entries again to ensure it's more entertaining rather than deep and analytical. I promise to update it with some fun entries as soon as possible!

At the bottom of the U...

2008-10-12T22:18:00.009+11:00

I don't want to alarm you all with another seemingly negative and quite possibly depressing blog entry but I am having to write about the last month of my life, which can only be described as one of the hardest periods of my life in a very long time. Hence the lack of entries on my blog.

The dangerous concoction of unemployment, limited cash flow, no immediate friends, love life frustrations and a career and life dilemma has resulted in a very dark period for me. Yes, folks I'm going through a swell time at the moment. The initial "I'm going to live in Australia" decision is now very real. The life changing action of moving one's life abroad has reared it's real and very ugly head. Warts and all. Incredibly unforgiving and unglamorous too. The positive to this, is that the only way is up hopefully, plus the stress has made me loose quite a bit of weight and with the combination of a tan I look great! Although, if it gets any worse I may have knock on door of that omnipresent deity that claims to run my life and ask for my money back.

'Stir crazy' are the words to describe the time I have to myself whilst looking for a new job and I have way too much time to think. Not good for someone like me who has an internal 'Woody Allen' inside of him. I am hoping this week will change everything and that I will secure the job I've set my sights on for the last month. I'm sending those positive vibes out into the universe and claiming it as my own. I know I would do a good job in that role and I could really grow into the role. Watch this space as they say.

My new found friendships have also been affected by this lull and my relationships with those I care about deeply have also unfortunately been victims to this. As well as this being thoroughly distressing, I find myself regressing and unable to grasp the bigger picture and losing my confidence completely in situations that would have never bothered me years ago.

So as I brush the crap off myself now and face the world straight on, I can only have faith that the next step goes up! Watch this space...

The Man who taught me how to sing

2008-08-30T01:08:00.008+10:00

This is Jeremy.

I've been talking about him a lot. And for once not in a 'Oh God, another boy Richard has fallen for which will all end in tears' sense. Jeremy is in fact my singing teacher or 'Vocal Coach' as many prefer to be called. I've been seeing Jeremy for the last five months or so, he's been a blessing in disguise, not only has he taught me a huge amount about my voice and capabilities but the regularity of his lessons and the banter that comes with it has helped me settle into at least one form of routine out here in Sydney. He's a performer himself and very funny indeed too.

I go every Tuesday at 6.45pm. We do vocal warm ups. This involves varying degrees of 'meowing', 'sirens', 'sipping', 'yeahs' and surprisingly actual singing of some scales. I've gone from thinking I was a baritone back in the UK to actually being told I have the potential to be a high tenor. All "very exciting" as an trained performer would say.

I would have only got to this level, had it not been for Jeremy's ruthless training, and strict guidance. Constant beating with his ruler. I'm kidding, but he gets close. Seriously, I've learned so much and even surprised myself. Many would laugh but my most common instruction is to 'sing less, listen more and close your mouth'.

I'm now struggling with Italian arias (singing opera and trying to say the words if in my own mother tongue and not on an 18-30 holiday tour operator is hard work) and have several musical numbers under my belt now which is great. I'm apparently very loud. No surprise there you all shout. I must be channeling an inner Ethel or something.

Jeremy was in Spamalot recently in Melbourne and I have all my fingers and toes crossed for him as I know he'll be auditioning for Mary Poppins soon!

100% Nice....

2008-08-30T00:11:00.008+10:00

I was on a bus to Bondi tonight and it drove past a Chocolate shop with a sign outside the front that read '100% NICE'. Not the catchiest of phrases but it gave me a shudder down my spine as it was a kindly and apt reminder of my personality once more. After the last few weeks, I do actually have to learn how to get angry more and not let people just walk all over me. Not sure if it's pride or failure to recognise when someone is taking liberties with me. I try to be generous, giving and empathic constantly and when certain people take advantage of it, I still remain shocked that they won't give anything back. I don't want my naivety to become the undoing of me. Answers to how I can be more of a complete bastard on a postcard please!

Making That Next Step...

2008-08-04T15:23:00.008+10:00

Over the last few months I have been a little frustrated with the fact that even though I have made the huge plunge transferring my life to another part of the world to essentially sort my life out, I have in fact, made myself quite directionless for the time being. I find myself with no drive to continue pursuing the career I have built up these past few years and yet have a huge degree of caution considering the somewhat possible professional suicide nature of giving it all up to pursue a totally different career. Depending on who I talk to, advice is varied and full of opinion as one would expect. Full of the familiar phrases you hear when mulling over these big life decisions. It's not really a case of me taking control of my own life to solve this. It's about whether or not I want to spend the time fixing something I may not want to be fixed in the first place.

Luck. Life Choices. Destiny and Gut Instinct are phrases we use to justify what life hands us. It never really explains why that son of a bitch has got that promotion you wanted or why your lovely friend who has cancer has also lost her job. (By the way, I don't actually know these people they exist purely for my moral conundrum).

I am negotiating with my internal compass at the moment. Wondering if decisions regarding my career would be as hard as it is now, had I made a different choice all those years ago. I will of course never know. Only dreams and doubt offer any form of resolution there and I refuse to harp back to a better time or regret the choices I've made. Well, maybe a one or two. I'm just questioning why my choices have meant going against the grain a little too often, ascending that steep hill when I could have gone up the footpath just over there. Is something greater telling me I'm not meant to be doing what I'm doing? I feel it's time to challenge this before it's too late or otherwise I may resign myself to accepting my circumstances.

"Well, what can I say to that Richard?" I hear you cry. Well, nothing. I just wanted to get that out in the open. Clear my head space as always before those thoughts bounce round my cranium any further. I agree what most are probably thinking - the grass is greener, we make the best choices to suit the situation we're in, all our lives are a random path and so on.

I have realised my old life back in London was chockablock. I was ultra, mega, stupendously busy. Even my hobbies were time consuming.

I went to work.
I went to screenings after work
I rehearsed for 10 months of the year.
I did a show twice a year.
I did the marketing for the shows.
I did tap classes.
I did singing classes.
I 'tried' to write.
I wrote a blog.
I tried to date.
I socialised.
I saw my friends.
I hosted dinner parties & events.
I went to the gym.
And so on...

I did many other things and it's taken my sister to suggest perhaps my body and mind have decided to shut down for a bit and have a rest since arriving here in Australia. It makes sense why I feel so 'spent'. So I find myself only handling a few tasks and wondering why I don't have the drive or imagination to push myself again. I'm no longer content repeating my life in the same way and its forced me into a limbo period. Much like my friend Charlie, I constantly want to push myself further and never take the time to take stock and reflect on what I've achieved most of the time but here I am looking at my life at last. Apologies if most of what I am writing is drivel.

How many of really have control over our 'life choices'? Deepak Chopra's tells us to send our dreams out there and they will come back to you, Paul McKenna tells us to hypnotise ourselves into positive thinking, others just say work hard and you will be rewarded. Whatever we use to justify and focus our minds to the job in hand, the cynic inside of me wonders whether in fact it's a choice between the lesser of two evils or perhaps not having worthwhile obvious choice laid out before us. I am reading a biography of Stephen Sondheim at the moment. I wanted to discover how the greatest musical theatre composer of our time came to be where he is now by battling against the odds and facing permanent rejection, but in fact it's quite the opposite. Sondheim was, dare I say it, in a privileged situation to be able to achieve. I'm not saying it wasn't easy for him but many factors of his upbringing and the people he either knew or was introduced to, sure helped to forge the person he is now today. For example, being partially raised by the Hammersteins as young boy and Sondheim was also Manhattan upper class thanks to his parents social status. Yes, I thought 'Lucky bugger' too. Although, he had a mother who declared his birth was the worse thing that happened to her life, so it's not all 'coming up roses' as Sondheim would write.

Luck I've decided, is dependent on someone giving you the dice to throw in the first place.

Perhaps I'm not meant to be living this particular life. Perhaps it's time I should listen to my gut instincts despite the world furrowing it's responsible brow at me. Give myself a little faith I usually reserve for others. Go get that dream and really do have no regrets.

"They're Villians, Clare..."

2008-07-18T21:24:00.002+10:00

Pardon me but I think a small trickle of wee just came out watching this.

Fresh New Look...

2008-07-13T15:04:00.002+10:00

Well, I've been playing round with the new templates in Blogger and given my blog a new look.

Yes, I'm still learning Photoshop so the new title treatment is a tad ropey still. I'm working on it and I may tinker with it a bit longer.

More importantly, you can now subscribe to my blog and add my RSS feed. You can do this in most mail applications, I know you can definitely do this with Mail on the Mac. So add me and you'll never be hungry for information about me again.

I imagine you'll all do this being such ardent fans and dedicated followers of mine.

I Thank You.

A few things I have observed about Australian culture...

2008-06-29T20:21:00.009+10:00

• The restaurants are full of amazing cuisine. However the supermarkets fail miserably at doing the same.

• The height of Winter is currently 22 degrees.

• Racism, homophobia and sexism is still fashionable amongst many hetrosexual men.

• There are more chicken schnitzels per square metre in Sydney than in the entire country of Germany.

• Thongs are worn on your feet and not up yer bum.

• It is easier to purchase a child from Somalia than rental accommodation in Australia.

• Women's fashion is basically a cross between what fashion was two seasons ago and one of those parasols you get decorating your cocktail.

• Men's fashion is still under debate - even in the state of New South Wales.

• Melbourne and the internet are the only places to buy clothes.

• Post Offices don't open on a Saturday.

• Cockroaches are more disgusting and than any of the potential venomous creatures that live in Australia.

• Most Aborigines don't play digeridoos, they play with drugs, alcohol and fight against a government who has let them down severely.

• Class A drugs are as common as smoking.

• It is totally acceptable for straight men to manscape and talk openly about it.

• Oxford St in Sydney is long and disappointing.

• People expect you go home on time and have a life.

• You can buy Marmite here.

• Only tourists go to Bondi Beach.

• Australians actually watch Neighbours despite those in the UK who protest vehemently against this.

• I am continually surprised at the number of Australians who have never been to New Zealand.

So where the bloody hell am I?....

2008-05-26T21:16:00.010+10:00

So it's been a while since I talked about myself. Ironic for a blog.

My random observations are probably not going to assure the casual reader that I'm fine and doing well. I fear my writing might meander once more into more profound thoughts and people will start turning off in their droves like when when Harry Secombe used to start singing on his religious programme Highway.

The allure of 'starting anew' is now bringing new hardened realities to the forefront and I'm realising now what it really takes to start again and the feeling of being out of place when I could be at home with all things familiar is a conundrum indeed for a brain like mine which loves to churn things through unnecessarily.

My life here at the moment is a bit like being at a sophisticated dinner party and having to wear someone else's clothes after perhaps being caught in the rain or after accidentally spilling spaghetti down my front. I'm sitting there, smiling away, feeling slightly aware of myself, thinking I really should sort myself out and get myself into something more 'Me' or vaguely familiar at least. While I sit there thinking this, all the other guests at the dinner table are giving me weak smiles as they go about their own conversations and I have no choice but to look down at the XL large sweater I've been given to wear, only realising it has the words "30 Years Old. Experiencing Quarter Life Crisis. Out Of Place But Willing" emblazoned on it.

It's a personal mental holiday. I am on leave. On sabbatical if you must. And being without goals at the moment disturbs me somewhat.

There is excitement to be had regarding my vocal tuition or in layman's terms my 'Singing Lessons' though.

As Kirstie Walk would say "More on this later..."

Agreeing to Disagree...

2008-05-10T14:41:00.007+10:00

"After thousands of years and with over 6.6 billion people in world, mankind continues to be surprised why we all can't think and be alike."

Who says politics isn't sexy?

2008-04-20T22:21:00.009+10:00

With the upcoming D-Day looming for Senator Obama and Clinton this week, I thought I would show you Steve Grove. A slightly shallow reason to get into U.S. politics perhaps but the Creator of Citizentube on Youtube, reports on the daily news coverage of the American election process, giving insight and opinions to the internet generation. A fantastic opportunity I think, to get young people politicised. The added bonus as you can see is he's quite easy on the eye too. As a big fan of The West Wing you can understand why not it's not just his good looks that excites me so. He's smart and passionate. We like this in a man. Needless to say Steve goes onto my BFM list.

Anyway compared to my last entry this is a nice fluffy entry with a political edge to it. Apparently my last blog diatribe totally confounded some people. I apologise for going off on a complete tangent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0k0ri5trM8&feature=user

The Jamie Oliver Syndrome...

2008-03-30T12:16:00.015+11:00

Strike up the band. Send telegrams to your loved ones. Sing it from your rooftops.

I officially have a Life.

So why do I find it slightly disconcerting that a small part of me craves to be an unemployed bum again? (possibly because I thought about it while I was sat at my new desk battling with formulas in Excel) I admit right now and off-the-bat, the month off however desperately needed and thoroughly enjoyed it was, did get a bit boring and frustrating near the end. It did raise an interesting question however - if money was no object and if society didn't pressure us into doing it, would we be happy not working?

I have visions of aliens looking down at us from outer space. Witnessing probably what we see on those Wildlife on One specials about ants or wasps. Watching us mindless going about our day like drones systematically performing repetitive daily tasks without question. Our little honeycomb lives. I admit, it's a tad profound for my quirky blog but it's high time I go a bit Alain De Botton on you, just so you realise I'm more than a pretty face.

Scaling it up a bit and being a tad more BBC FOUR than BBC TWO about this subject - money is good to have. Of course it is. If that was no exception and we were all 'Ladies who Lunch' would we be happier? For me personally I like to have goals. A few years ago, the social aspect of a work environment was huge part of why I enjoyed 'going to work'. As time moves on and priorities change, I'd now like control my own life schedule and not so adamant about social intercourse at work as I once was. I admit this is probably an age thing rather than a philosophical question but there is something a tad deeper to consider. There is a crisis many find ourselves in today, due to an onslaught of technology that has allowed mass communication to permeate into our lives on a scale which has never been experienced before. The internet, mobiles, blackberries and our modern, ultra-efficient lifestyles means we have access to anything and everyone, wherever and whenever we want. It also means however, we can be accessed by our work 24/7. This in itself is a terrifying thought to comprehend for many like myself who try to adhere, and quite rightly so, the need to draw a line between 'work' and 'play'. This new era of the never-ending work ethic and the constant pressure to perform and deliver is an investment which I and others feel reaps very little in return and which also never ever seems to be enough for those who demand it. This can also partly come from our own expectations. As a result we feel as though have failed in some way. I mean this in terms of quality of life rather than financial, although current economic climates have even made this even more poignant to how much we have 'failed'. Anyone who lives in a big city like London will have heard of the common complaint many of my friends have regarding their quality of life. It was one of the reasons I had to leave London myself. Not as I was tired of hearing the same familiar conversation but because I too wanted to address the imbalance in my own life. It is disparaging to work hard and receive little recognition for it and it has made us more envious of those who can seemingly 'not work for a living' or work less but have better lives than we do.

Is this the modern generation being lazy and not appreciating what the modern age allows us to achieve? Have we forgotten how to live while we obsessed over integrating unachievable work ethics and new technology into our lives or is there a genuine concern we should be addressing and seeking a cure for the 'Modern Work Malaise'.

There are great books on this by the way if you're interested that touch on these subjects. Status Anxiety and Affluenza are fascinating reads (which is a more in depth examination to what every thirtysomething asks what it means to be successful and why we are still unhappy yet 30 years ago we had less but were more happier, or as I describe it as "Why am I not Jamie Oliver yet?" referring to his seemingly perfect life, career and family - recent Sainsbury wranglings to one side)

Perhaps the Modern Work Malaise should be called 'The Jamie Oliver Syndrome'. I have my suspicions however even he might doubt his level of personal success sometimes.

I suppose what I'm trying to say, insights and world ruminations aside, is that there are questions regarding what I want to do with the rest of my life. Work seems endless wherever I am but is necessarily to survive and stimulate the old grey matter. Do I go on with what I'm doing now? I'm sure this question rears it head throughout anyone's life. I'd like to write more. Perhaps do some freelance writing again, like the film reviews I once did but perhaps this time with some social commentary. If only I could convince Charlie Brooker to let me cover him when he next takes a holiday from his Guardian article.

Am I carving out a whole new career in the making or is this trappings of a lifestyle that has even more pros and cons to the one I have now? Who knows what intellectual trepidations that might bring.

Beyond Useless...

2008-03-07T15:59:00.027+11:00

"Hi there, how's Australia treating you?"

"Umm, er, it's treating me fine I suppose. Thank you for seeing me."

"So, you've come to Australia to look for work? How exciting. Now, just to let you know the job advertisement you responded to isn't available now."

"The entertainment marketing job?"

"Yes, that's the one. Don't worry, after that ruse I'm sure we can find you something."

"Oh."

"I know. You're qualifications were perfect for that job, weren't they? We don't have anything at the moment, but it's great that we finally get the chance to meet so I get to waste more of your time."

"Right, so I filled in this application form for nothing? Why does it ask for bank details by the way and what's with the question 'If you were a brand what would you be?' is this you trying to be hip and relevant or something?"

"Oh you don't need to worry about that. So, tell me a little bit about yourself while I think about what I'm going to have for lunch today."

"Well, I've had a varied career as Art Director, Marketing Manager and Account Manager. I've had extensive experience in the field of creative, marketing and advertising and now specialise in entertainment design but not exclusively... excuse me, are you just nodding at me politely?"

"Yes... a low fat salad is what I'll have. Now, I will be phoning my 'contacts' to see if I can drum up some interest in you. I'm also going to say a lot of big, exciting company names to you now and make it sound as I know every one of them personally, when in fact, I only know the HR manager who only reluctantly takes my calls as I constantly hound them. Does that sound like something convincing?"

"Well, a job working for a successful company sounds great, but..."

"Fantastic! Now, do you see yourself as more a creative than a strategic person, would you consider working agency side perhaps? I only ask this just to make me sound as though I know something about your job. I just don't want you to know I'm actually listening for several unrelated keywords from which I will feebly attempt to match you against a highly inappropriate job spec."

Umm, well I'm a trained creative person but have had strategic..."

"That's great, that's all I needed to hear. I see you also have a working holiday visa?"

"Yes, I... Why did you just pull that face?"

"Have you seen any other recruitment agencies or gone for any interviews so far? Be careful now, I know I look anodyne and false but I will shaft your potential career prospects if I find out you're not just using me. And if there's any chance I can put another candidate against you for a job, I will do it."

"Umm...NO? You're the first person I've seen actually."

"Great. I'll be as useless as the next agency you see anyway."

"Fine. I'm just slowly getting disillusioned about job hunting, you might as well kill the last ounce of hope I have left. If you continue to annoy me I'll just remind you that your only other career options were probably lawyer or estate agent. Is there anything else you need to know? Do you need to scribble any more doodles of flowers and swirly patterns on my CV or is that it?"

"No, I have everything. Just to let you know, I won't be calling you for a few weeks, if that's okay with you? Do keep in touch though and let me know how the job hunting is going your end. Just so I can field your calls and say 'Nothing has come in yet'. I'll eventually return one of your calls and suggest some crappy job spec we've had lying round the office for some time, hoping it may distract from how unhelpful I've been. By then, you'll get an idea of how we operate."

"Well, thanks for speaking at me. It's been pure joy. Perhaps I should have spent it more productively figuring how many of your business cards I could fit in your mouth?"

"It's been great to finally meet you too. Hopefully we can get you the job that fits you perfectly Robert."

"It's Richard."

Kate The Great...

2008-02-29T13:21:00.008+11:00

I'm reading yet another biography about my favourite actress, who most of my friends know I endless quote and refer to a lot. The videos below are an abridged version of the intense 600 page book I am reading now. It's also a test to see if videos are something I want to add to my blog.

Her lust for life and decent common sense always enthralled and inspired me. Her quote below is what I try to do with my life daily and I thought I would share these simple words with you:

The thing about life is that you must survive. Life is going to be difficult, and dreadful things will happen. What you must do is move along, get on with it, and be tough. Not in the sense of being mean to others, but tough with yourself and making a deadly effort not to be defeated.

- Katharine Hepburn

OK?...

2008-02-28T10:26:00.019+11:00

Sometimes I wonder if words I spell are correct, words I have continued to spell for years sometimes. I hate to be incorrect. I make every effort to ensure words are written properly and my grammar is also in tip top working order, even though I do admit failing occasionally with syntax (the result I feel of thinking too quickly and typing too slowly). I realise the English language evolves continuously, but the wonderful rules we have created enabling us communicate effectively with each other is also in danger of dying out if we're not too careful. I think it's important to keep it good working order so to speak. So it terrifies me that the latest generation horrifically uses 'TXT SPK' in everyday conversation now or should I say 'CONVO'. I put my case forward with this aberration below:

ooow god c i dnt no hu u r babe im gessing u go 2 beal 6form but atleeast u no wat im talkin about....! this is frm head to toe "storkage" the guyz probably gona fink were a bunch of pedoz LOOL.....x

To be quite frank. What the fuck is that?

A grown 16 year old woman wrote this on a Facebook page. I know it's a "Social Networking Site" but there is no excuse. Emmeline Pankhurst is probably turning in her grave at the thought this girl now has the right to vote but not actually given herself the right to spell and form complete sentences. I felt quite sick reading it and wanted to violently stick the Oxford English Dictionary into one of her orifices. If you actually 'translate' it, she also thinks 15 years olds can be classified as pedophiles because they fancy their teacher (who is a friend of mine). Yes - after three, we can sigh simultaneously together. Do I sound like a Daily Mail journalist yet?

Anyway, I return to the point in hand. One of the simplest words Okay or OK used in my last entry, was one such word that made me think twice about it. I wanted to know where this phrase came from. Well, I wanted to know, as I have a keen obsession over the English language and also love to consume useless facts. According to Dictionary.com (I know it's American but I will find out what dependable old Oxford say too) it is derived from the following:

OK is a quintessentially American term that has spread from English to many other languages. Its origin was the subject of scholarly debate for many years until Allen Walker Read showed that OK is based on a joke of sorts. OK is first recorded in 1839 but was probably in circulation before that date. During the 1830s there was a humoristic fashion in Boston newspapers to reduce a phrase to initials and supply an explanation in parentheses. Sometimes the abbreviations were misspelled to add to the humour. OK was used in March 1839 as an abbreviation for all correct, the joke being that neither the O nor the K was correct. Originally spelled with periods, this term outlived most similar abbreviations owing to its use in President Martin Van Buren's 1840 campaign for reelection. Because he was born in Kinderhook, New York, Van Buren was nicknamed Old Kinderhook, and the abbreviation proved eminently suitable for political slogans. That same year, an editorial referring to the receipt of a pin with the slogan O.K. had this comment: "frightful letters ... significant of the birth-place of Martin Van Buren, old Kinderhook, as also the rallying word of the Democracy of the late election,'all correct' .... Those who wear them should bear in mind that it will require their most strenuous exertions ... to make all things O.K."

"How fascinating!" and yes, I'm aware only myself said that just now.

Wandering and wondering....

2008-02-25T10:47:00.019+11:00

I started writing this to a friend and realised it was probably eloquent enough to put on here too with a few editorial tweaks.

It's my fourth week in Sydney now and as I sit here typing away at my laptop, thinking about how my life has changed, watching the unannounced clouds roll into the bay where I live (It's going to heave it down tonight with fantastic thunderstorm later - see, even the weather here is more interesting) I realised I'm just unemployed and wearing less clothes. However, it's not that bad really. It is hotter here and although I'm not cold at all, because I'm British I can't help thinking I may need an extra layer when I go out - just in case. It's a habit I have to break out of as I end up carrying a lot of useless crap around with me.

Life here is still in a state of limbo. It's not the worse state to be in but I'm desperately needing my own job and space now so I start my 'new life' in full. I went on the ferry to Circular Quays last week for an interview one morning. It was a spectacular Australian morning. A solid blue sky, as if someone had neatly selected the fill button on Human Nature's Photoshop and given the sky one hue of 'Blue'. I stood on the top deck of the ferry, allowing the breeze to dance through my hair and flutter against my face. I wore my aviator sunglasses, a crisp white cotton shirt, jeans and gracefully sat back to listen to Carly Simon's Let The River Run from the movie Working Girl. For a moment, I was Melanie Griffiths as Tess MgGill starting her first day of work, although for me it was my new life. Only then, for the first time since I arrived here did I think, "Richard. Everything is going to be okay."

It is nice to have open friendly public around you though when you make a significant move like this. Not have people who refuse to give you eye contact or glare into your soul if you invade their personal space on a train, bus or pavement, which pretty much sums up London's attitude to anyone and, I am ashamed to say, I was one of those people. (It's not quirky and eccentrically British - it's plain rude.) My initial spontaneity has been replaced with partial restlessness now and I fear for when order gets reintroduced into my life again, as I keep being told to enjoy the free time I currently have. I can't help knowing the organised part of me would like a 'Start Date' so it can schedule in events into my .Mac account calendar and buy trainers without guilt. I'm sure it will all fall into place come once the job arrives. I must learn to curb my impatience in the meantime.

I am enjoying the weather as it's not it's usual unbearably hot and more like a good British summer. I like seeing the water. It's everywhere and it's very calming. Even if you're in the middle of the city and your standing next to a man-made fountain it still has the same effect on you.

I went out on Oxford St, the gay district of Sydney last night and realised I loathe the scene wherever it may be. No new revelation there. Over here they're more vain and are usually 'off their tits' on something quite early on in the evening. This tends to stop when they reach 35 apparently, looking at the rental ads I saw last week. As then, they tend buy small dogs and apartments with great views of the harbour. I say this only as all the ads I've read are by gay men in their mid/late 30s who own amazing flats and a hairy collared animal who they describe as 'My Baby' or 'Chico' and always end their ad with the line "I do not tolerate drug users."

A spark of originality is all I ask for in a gay man. Please! My quest may continue a little longer perhaps.

There's A Life At The End Of This Tunnel...

2008-02-16T20:10:00.011+11:00

A cockatoo landed on the veranda yesterday and my instant reaction was someone's pet had escaped. I realised then I was in another country. This is my new life now and big fat birds with yellow crests bounding up to a window pane is a perfectly common anomaly. Things are going to be different. I watched it with much bemusement and with a sense of pure novelty usually reserved for petting zoos and stupid people, realising my reaction to this exotic bird is probably how I've spent most of my time here since I arrived two weeks ago. It's not like I'm here on holiday or moved here permanently with both feet firmly on the ground, knowing which direction I'm heading. I'm in a limbo period and I'm not sure how to approach anything. I don't have my usual habits to fall back on or friends to immediately reassure me or places to go for comfort. I've spent some of it trying to recreate situations I had during my life back in London and unsurprisingly they just don't work over here. And that's good I suppose. I'm making hesitant choices over trivial things - what type of travel card to buy - Red? Blue? Travel Ten or Travel Pass? What meat do I choose from the alien supermarket freezer - why do the sausages look anemic and the lamb badly cut? Why do I think twice at meeting up with old friends who have offered to show me the way but prefer to meet complete strangers instead? I should be diving into everything head first, embracing it as it comes, but if I do, it means I'm actually 'living' here now.

A Time to Say Goodbye...

2008-01-28T07:26:00.002+11:00

It is a wonderfully surreal experience knowing that the next month ahead of you will be full of choice, freedom and self inflicted fear. I got to steal a moment at my leaving do last night in order to see all my friends together under one roof. Laughing, smiling at me, sharing stories, so many different personalities sandwiched between wine glasses and beer bottles, all sharing one thing in common - my friendship.

I am a lucky, lucky man.

It was utterly heartbreaking but yet immensely life affirming to leave my friends. I hope they know how much happiness they've given me over the years. Old and new friends alike. Farewells and excitable exclamations from jealous friends were touching but I felt almost strangely unworthy, as I never felt I was doing anything special or come to think of it, anything they couldn't do themselves. I did feel like I was abandoning so many people who had given me so much. To relish in my future endeavor too much in front of them would have felt self-absorbed in way.

The 'Parentals' were there to also witness this potpourri of people who claimed to know me. The fact they got the chance to meet them all and see the side of my life they only hear in passing during the odd phone conversation was incredibly important to me and I know through friends who spoke to them they enjoyed themselves, despite the minimal reaction I got when I asked them. Modest to the end, my folks.

So, on to the next entry. This one will take a little longer to digress into literary prose. I'm stepping up to the bench, lets hope I can be brave and grab opportunity with both hands and not freak out and regress to the familiar.

Watch this space. And this time that space is awfully big.

This Year I...

2008-01-02T10:38:00.001+11:00

In 2007, I...

...finally hit 30 ...met Lord Lloyd Webber ...tapped along side Darcy Bussell ...saw Carrie Bradshaw and friends ...watched Rufus do Judy ...lost a beloved friend and Godmother ...learned how to reach an A# ...finally saw the Baker, his wife , Cinderella and Jack go into the woods ...had a boat party ...got a crush on a reality TV star ...met him and met him too many times ...said goodbye to my other sister ...drank Manhattans on top of a NY skyscraper ... met my new brother in-law to be ...went to A&E with sliced finger ...booked a flight that will hopefully change my life.

Happy New Year! Lets see what 2008 brings shall we?

A time for change...

2007-12-31T07:11:00.003+11:00

Tomorrow is the end of 2007 and like most cliched endings, is a dawn of a new era for many people, mostly significantly for me as I prepare to uplift my life and move to a different country on the other side of the world. It's been a long time since I wrote my last entry and I am angry at myself for not keeping my writing going over the last five months. Life has been eventful. It's been full of events I could have written about, but life took over, as it usually does in these situations and I foolishly put this blog to one side. I'm also considering opening up this blog to all my friends and family soon, so they can keep track of my life when I get to Sydney. I'm in two minds as I enjoy the anonymity and regular purging exercise I get from releasing all my thoughts and rants into the cyberworld. We shall see.

I have a musical to write and other writing to start and my new shiny white beacon of an iMac seems to be inviting me to use it solely for Facebook and porn. There are far too many diatribes on the passive nature on owning a computer to be included in this entry, so I will leave those for another time.

Moving to Australia is a thrilling and terrifying prospect. I'm currently facing a big chalkboard which has lots of intricate scribblings all over it which I've accumulated over the years and now stand poised with one of those eraser blocks in my hand, waiting to wipe it all off in one smooth swipe. I want to start a fresh new scribble and I'm hesitating, as hover over my life in London just one more time admiring everything I've achieved, I know deep down I'm not really losing anything it's just the action that terrifies me. I suppose this feeling is natural to someone starting a new chapter and many of my friends are envious of the freedom I have before me. I will however truly miss this moment in my life as it is rich and I have a lot of good things going on in my life right now. It's so predictable how making this decision has made me appreciate what and who I have in my life right now. Clichés that rear their ugly heads in fiction and in other people's lives are now making a long overdue appearance in mine. A comforting thought perhaps?

Thoughts on the boy Potter...

2007-08-08T03:00:00.004+10:00

Okay, what I'm going to say will be considered controversial. Well, not if you're a literary critic, although they have all been quite praising about it I've noticed, but I've just finished the final installment of the Harry Potter septilogy and, well, I have my opinions I'd like to air after being sucked into reading the entire saga these past few years. I suppose I should prewarn those of a fragile idiotic nature who don't want to know what happens to perhaps 'look away now' or maybe the title of this entry should also read *SPOILER ALERT* But lets be frank here, if you didn't think I was going to talk about plot points when talking about the last book and are shocked to learn crucial elements to the story by reading this, then you're a bit of an twat really. Yes, that term was quite eloquent of me, I'm glad you noticed.

I'd like to say now, the only modern children's books I have read are Rowling's Harry Potter, Pullman's Dark Materials Trilogy and The Hungry City Chronicles by Philip Reeves. I have only got into reading these as working in the film industry as it's always good to have a bit of foreknowledge of potential movie campaigns you could end up working on. Although Reeve's Mortal Engines was a pure coincidence and a chance to read a signed first edition for free. Harry Potter has been 'fantasy-lite' entertainment, I realise it's kid's literature and perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh on the material but I think the elevated status deserves some critic, as no doubt the books will be compared to existing classics like the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy or Roald Dahl's various deliciously horrid and captivating children's stories.

Maybe I'm impatient with these books, but I found myself skimming the pages at a hundred miles an hour, perhaps it is merely the style of writing that didn't captivate me instantly and maybe I yearn for more meandering, fantastical passages and clever word play that I remember lapping up as a child. I personally itched a bit when scenarios got repetitive, like the 'camping whilst on the run' parts. The deaths were dealt with in a very real unglamorous way, which I congratulate her for, although I think I did suffer from total memory loss reading parts of it, as I didn't even realise Lupin was dead until he appeared as a ghost with Harry's folks and Sirius at the end. Calling Voldemort 'Riddle' made the final stand-off all the more striking, subtle changes in character dialogue were a clever touch. She should have made the importance of wands more apparent in the other books though, as I felt it certain plot pieces/devices like that were all too convenient and materialised out of nowhere. Bit like in Star Trek when they go "Oh my God we're slipping into a Worm Hole, how about we press this button that will release intermittent tachyon beams that will create a static warp shell." which to me, makes as much sense as me saying "Oh my God I don't have a boyfriend, how about I switch on my toaster."

It's not my favourite book from the series. Azkaban and Goblet of Fire still remain firm favourites. Had the first third been structured in a more entertaining way and punctuated more with other plot lines to build up the tension it would have been the reached the top of my list. My favourite parts were Snape's back story and Mrs Weasley calling Bellatrix Lestrange a "B*tch". How many parents will be self-sensoring that part when they read it aloud to their children I wonder. Still, I'll pay good money to see Julie Walters and Helena Bonham-Carter fight like cats in a bag.

On another note, I apologise for the lack of entries on my blog. It has been a ridiculously long time and have faltered badly on the maintenance front. I have now got a lovely spanking new Powerbook that purrs nicely and allows me to go wireless and even has Final Draft so I can write 'professionally'. I have news on Centre Stage, writing a musical and the usual pointless banter about men and life and will endeavor to write this all up soon into those lovely, little, eloquently written passages I do love to toil over.

"What's your story?..."

2007-07-01T06:03:00.008+10:00

Peculiar that I traverse the steep steps of Waterstones on Piccadilly and look across to the giant photos above the bannisters that showcase the great literary luminaries of our age and who do I see? David Beckham, Jane Fonda, Paul McCartney and Bill Clinton. There is one shot of a real author - you know one of those people who actually have touched a keypad or typewriter and known how to use syntax and grammar, rather than speak to a ghost writer - this was of Margret Atwood whose expression in the photo was of shere awkwardness, even though she was in fact surrounded by books. This observation was further compounded by the fact I was rudely ushered to one side by an assistant to make way for their next author who was signing. My glimmer of internal hope died however, when I noticed it was not the Pulitzer Prize-winning Michael Chabon or even 'Chick-Lit Queen' Sophie Kinsella. No, it was Kanye West and his mother.

This is future of publishing people. I do hope people like my friend Ben get their literary efforts recognised, I pray to God they do.

N.B. Please note. Since writing this entry, Kanye's mother (his biographer) tragically died from cosmetic surgery complications. This bizarre soap-opera like event has somehow, to me anyway, strangely reinforced my arguement there should be more emphasis on real literary talent. Or perhaps I've got a sick sense of humour.

A few shots from the show...

2007-06-25T02:41:00.002+10:00

Oh dear...

2007-05-15T09:17:00.002+10:00

I've been looking back at my blog in recent months and I seem to have done it again. Well, the opposite this time. There I am writing flippant, jocular entries to satisfy those who worried my blog was getting morbid and now it's just silly, of little substance and frankly has no thought whatsoever. I need to verbalise my thought processes more carefully, however mundane. My writing suffers badly and it becomes dry and something the editor of Heat may think was an 'interesting Carrie Bradshaw approach' to observing life. I'm shuddering in my cheap IKEA chair now. Dear Lord. Strike me down now. I'm meant to encourage great writing. Actually, don't strike me down just yet, I have a show to do in four weeks time and have no understudy. Anyway, I digress. I've decided and I'm sorry now in advance, if future musings seem depressive. I'm not. Please don't call social services or suggest seeing a psychiatrist. This is what writing is about - exploring every aspect and the negative parts are so much fun to write about. Exorcising those demons and woes in tiny, thought provoking words, syllables, sentences and paragraphs, it helps put everything into joyful, toe-tapping, 'Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder' perspective in a weird way. I miss it and I will now write whatever the buggery-hell I want to write. Self-editing in order to please the masses is for people who go round saying things like "I do love The Vicar of Dibley but I just don't get BBC2". (I wonder if John Craven worried as much, putting together his child-friendly news stories for Newsround.) I hope this will eventually kick start something within me to get my novel and script ideas into shape. After the show, I must start breaking the concepts down and figure out what will work and what is shockingly bad, I might as well cast it aside and lock it up in a small safe marked "Step away now. Dull beyond words".

How could I forget...

2007-05-13T08:59:00.002+10:00

There I was thinking about who would be on my BFM list and I forget this man. How will Mr Ruffalo forgive me? Well, he is married so I'm sure he'll cope.

I'm mulling over who he should replace. Hugh or Elijah? Answers on a postcard please.

For Grandjie...

2007-05-09T07:06:00.001+10:00

You were not my guide.

You were my feet upon which I walked ahead with into my future.

You were not my comforter.

You were the hands that covered my heart when I was cold.

You were not my teacher.

For you were my smile when I found knowledge and achievement.

You were not just my friend.

You were my world. My energy. My joy.

Blatant additon to BFM List...

2007-05-08T08:43:00.003+10:00

It's unimaginative, a huge and blatant teenage crush of an addition, but over the last week I have been watching, what Americans call 're-runs' of the first season of 'Heroes' on the Scifi Channel (yes, Sky finally got their act together) and have fallen for the lovely Milo Ventimiglia, who plays Peter Petrelli. Heroes is a kinda regular Joe X-Men style science fiction show that has more twists and turns than 'Lost' and is more confusing than an epileptic inside a duvet cover. I desperately need to be more selective with my exclusive list, I know but I have a small, yet hopeful sense of hope that evidence of their personality and intelligence will shine through with many of my candidates. I have faith Milo might have something going for him apart from good hair. Heroes is totally addictive and I've been willing the creator and director, Tim Kring to include a scene where Milo has to take his shirt off. (Currently it stands as one shot of him getting out of bed with his back to the camera - not good enough NBC. Shame on you. Don't you know gays flock to sci-fi? it's as natural and predictable as cows eating grass, dogs catching frisbees and imbeciles reading the Daily Mail).

Still, he goes on my list, as does Jonathan Kelly who is the executive assistant to the Editor of Vanity Fair. He's like the male version of Ugly Betty and Andy Sachs from The Devil Wears Prada. (PAs are obviously the 'in-thing' over in America it seems and they now get they're own cover stories) I can't find a photo of him on Google, so you'll have to do your own undercover investigation online or just buy this month's edition. He's preppy, well-groomed and seemly successful, as he is contributing to this month's edition of Vanity Fair for starters. I imagine he's a very savvy and smart journalist too; likes to stop every morning for a frappaccino before heading into the office, working the hours God Graydon Carter sends him and then heads home to make seafood risotto for him and his boyfriend in the evening. Okay, I'm assuming a lot here. Total flights of fancy, of course. He may hate risotto.

Apologies for not writing in my blog sooner but I've had an awful lot go on in the past month and will fill everyone in soon I promise.

It's official...

2007-04-11T18:31:00.001+10:00

Damn you SKY, damn you to Hell!...

2007-03-23T23:44:00.001+11:00

The global communications company SKY has invaded the comfort of my abode and wreaked havoc with everything it touched. After naively thinking their £26 a month deal for TV, Broadband and Phone offer would be a good idea and signing my life into their hands, I am now currently residing in a flat that is bereft of terrestrial TV, no broadband and have been billed £20 for the experience. Ironically, no one at SKY thinks this is bad for a new customer or can communicate within their customer services departments. Apparently, it takes 3 working days to log a complaint which is most likely to be filed under 'IGNORE AND TRANSLATE INTO FARSI' so only limited individuals who fluent in a dead language are able to respond and help you. I am now 'sans' internet access at home after SKY decided to disconnect us two weeks ago, without warning or sending the correct 'technical team' to install a dish to our roof, connect the relevant cables and routers and, you know, basically do their job as stated. According to Rupert's people, second floor flats require a 'specialist team' team of installers, who are few and far between, obviously trained along side Japanese Samurai, the Gurkhas and elite SAS soldiers. This does mean I'm unable to regularly update this blog until it's all been sorted, which probably at this rate, will be around the same time the London Olympics opens in 2012.

Charlie reminds me....

2007-03-06T01:01:00.001+11:00

I've decided. I must procrastinate more when I write. About random things. More the things that annoy or confound me, like men or those dire chewing gum ads that supposedly declare it's "mastication for the nation".

Certain entries about my life and hobbies are certainly quite dull, well not dull exactly, I'm just not in the slightest inventive when it comes to prose. My fault is that I don't write enough. Midnight blog entries are never going to win the masses for the prize of hilarity. And that's why my book and script ideas are still, well, just ideas.

Thank you Mr Charlie Brooker.

Don't talk like a slut Shelley...

2007-03-05T10:18:00.001+11:00

Those of you may know, I am currently taking extra lessons in tap every Sunday and Monday now. Sunday class is specifically Broadway Tap (more jazz hands and I tend to sweat a lot more essentially). I love these classes, even though tapping is not my strong point, I want get better at it. As Mary Poppins would say, practice makes perfect. Ironically one of my fellow tap dancers in this class is none other than Emma Williams who played the part of Shelley in the West End production of Bat Boy. Emma, for those not familiar with her recent media coverage, was going to 'support' Connie Francis and also play Maria in 'The Sound of Music' when it opened at The Palladium last year. She decided to pull out and lots of media hoopla proceeded, with suggestions Emma not wanting to be seen as an 'understudy' (fair enough to me, if that's the case). Certain papers accusing the show of 'fixing' the reality TV competition. Emma was also the youngest ever female to play a lead in the West End for her part as Truly Scrumptuous in 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'. I hope she forgives me if I got any of the information wrong just now (and for the fact I've actually put up a link to a Daily Mail article -shudder down spine- something I try not to promote as a rule) Emma obviously knows 'Bat Boy' inside and out and was really enthusiastic to find out we're doing the show. Hopefully, she can come and see the show come June.

More reason to put on great show. No pressure.

On another musical note, I purchased the new Broadway version of 'Company', my favourite Sondheim musical. About a single guy called Robert who refuses to settle down and is surrounded by various couples, all wondering why such a great guy like him is, well, single. Lots of observation about dating, relationships and the ultimate realisation of what it truly means to find someone you can love. (Any similarities to my situation are purely coincidental of course. I can't emphasise with one bit - stop scoffing. Yes, you at the back. Yes, I'm pointing at you. I heard that, take that back right now). This new recording has revamped the original 1970s score whilst still retaining what was true and poignant. Go buy it now. It's a musical for adults who have real problems. Not a single jazz hand in sight but some of the best lyrics ever written.

Desiderata...

2007-02-26T02:02:00.001+11:00

I believe I stumbled across this on my friend's website, I can't remember now, it was a long time ago. I saved it on my computer and found it again today. I think its a elegant and thought-provoking passage that focuses the mind and gives one the perspective we all sometimes desperately need in this chaotic world in which we live in:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

- Max Ehrmann, Desiderata (Copyright 1952).

BFM...

2007-02-26T01:41:00.001+11:00

Just to let you know, I'm not satisfied with my list. Not enough rumination and scrutinization has gone into it. There must be other men out there that deserve to be on the list, who I've failed to recognise, but most certainly deserve to be up there. Saying this, Stephen Oremus is still deserves his spot in the Top Five.

Such a frivolous list I know, but I want to take it seriously. For now anyway.

Come On, Get Happy...

2007-02-20T01:21:00.001+11:00

I've just had my first 'holiday' since departing these fair shores to go to Australia last January. So, where did I go this time, I hear you ask? Well, sunny SE24 unfortunately. The never-ending debt relief project I am submitting myself to over the last couple of years, that has been so monotonous it would make a Blue Peter take it up as their next appeal, has meant my holiday plans have been confined to my flat. None the less, I have entertained myself sufficiently by pre-booking various events including seeing Porgy & Bess with the Centre Sage crew, various cinema trips to see 'Hot Fuzz' and 'The Queen', in order to update myself before the pre-Oscar onslaught and finally ending my week going to see Rufus Wainwright reenact Judy Garland's famous Carnegie Hall concert at the London Palladium. Yes, quite the gayest event I've probably attended but I've been a big Rufus fan in ages and my flat mate was very keen in going too. A few well placed emails and a phone call meant I managed to secure house seats for the already sold out show, even though I had to take out a small mortgage to get them, they were worth every penny. Not only were we treated to a song-for-song tribute by Mr Wainwright, his sister Martha did a rendition of 'Stormy Weather' and 'Someone To Watch Over Me' and to seal the heavily frosted pink icing on the well mixed gay cake, Lorna Luft made an appearance and sang 'Hello Bluebird' from Garland's last film shot at the Palladium, 'I Could Go On Singing'. Just to notch up the campometer a few more notches we sat next to Richard E. Grant, Tom Chaplin from Keane, who had obviously skipped rehab, David 'Elton John and his partner' Furnish and Mark Gatiss from The League of Gentlemen. I have, however, developed another 'theatre going crush' on the Musical Arranger/Conductor of the show, Stephen Oremus (see photo left of him with Rufus). Not only has he directed these shows for Rufus but he is also behind the orchestrations for 'Wicked' and 'Avenue Q' he is also irritatingly handsome and has the sexiest mane of brown hair ever to poke out the top of a dinner jacket, ever. (that's the view I got of him for most of the night, bar moments at the grand piano when he played solo for Rufus), Yes, I've become a showbiz whore. Mock me now. Obviously, a totally shallow observation but I've decided his on my Top Five List of BFM (Boyfriend Material) anyway, as I spotted his biography in the Avenue Q programme a week ago and was hooked then. Qualities for being BFM, are not based on looks may I add, but several qualities in order to to sustain a long term relationship with yours truly:

• Intelligence (biggest turn on for me surprisingly).
• Individual talent & passion of some kind.
• Personal drive and financially independent.
• Mutual compatibility both physically and mentally with myself.
• Sexy enough to make me want to jump into bed with them.

If it was based solely on looks, then of course more people would appear on the list, like the Abecrombie & Fitch model Joseph Sayers who, as yet, I know nothing about personality wise. He is short and blonde, a huge plus in my books and of course, if he turns out to love Sondheim, loves baking, good food, has wicked ironic sense of humour and watches an unhealthy amount of movies, he can certainly graduate onto the list below. Another example of someone who doesn't cut the grade but find incredibly sexy is Colin Farrell, a person whose face has probably been declared as 'an area of outstanding natural beauty' by the Irish Tourist Board, he would not qualify as BFM, as his bad boy persona would most definitely clash with the BFM characteristics needed to secure themselves on my arm. There are of course, people I actually know who spring to mind immediately but are unfortunately straight or already have boyfriends and I wouldn't dare to share their names in case they found out.

The BFM List for 2007* as follows:

6) Aaron Sorkin - Solely cerebral this one, as this man is a genius with words and I want to be around someone like him. The West Wing is his finest piece of work.

5) Hugh Jackman - nicest man in Hollywood apparently with a chest to sleep on for hours on end. Plus, his version of 'Sunset Boulevard' makes the hair on the back of my neck go funny. I do admit he might be too tall for me though.

4) Elijah Wood - short, as we know and the eyes do it for me. He also has his own record label and apparently is very close to his siblings, which I empathise with. I was told he even 'played for Arsenal' like myself by a reliable source, until it was proved wrong by another recently. Bugger. Or not, should I say.

3) Hugh Dancy - Another Hugh, who acts, models, speaks French and seems a bit posh (a vice of mine) and was darn good in 'Shooting Dogs' He also helped my friend who was on crutches up some stairs at the King Arthur Premiere party. A fine gentleman indeed.

2) Stephen Oremus - An American musical genius whose bum I stared at for 3 hours on Sunday while he conducted Rufus Wainwright, anyone who can deliver music arrangement of that quality is incredibly talented and I'd love to sing by him in an empty theatre as he plays the piano to my words.

1) Jake Gyllenhaal - Everyone's current favourite but I was a fan way before he was 'Top Totty' to all and sundry. Tall, always Donnie Darko for me despite the Brokeback acclaim, eyes you could disappear into and, well, I could go on. I would convert to Judaism for this man. And that would be a commitment. Every mum would fall in love with him if you took him home surely? (They'd probably secretly want them for themselves.)

Okay, I know you're thinking they're all really good looking but, hey, this is my list and my rules and I can do what I want.

NB: If one of you from the list is actually reading this, please do get in touch by all means. This simple course of action takes you immediately to the privileged Number One spot, along with a date one evening, filled with charm, wit and banter with my fine self.

* This list is subject to change. Well, of course it is.

Bad Idea Bears...

2007-02-12T11:59:00.001+11:00

I watched Avenue Q on Thursday. South Park meets Sesame St. I've enjoyed puppets and being rude - ask my little sister. So this was right up my street, or should I say avenue. Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx's score is a perfect antidote to the humdrum of daily life, especially if you're one of the many disillusioned 20/30 somethings like myself, who are wondering why we feel a little empty inside. According to the show - it's okay, we all feel that way! It also celebrates the fact we're all a little bit racist, the internet is for porn and there is a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend. Apart from developing a small 'foam with ping-pong ball eyed' like crush on the actor Simon Lipkin, the very talented puppeteer who plays Nicky and Trekkie Monster (see photos - Nicky is the green 'Ernie' like puppet and Simon is the bushy browed, well toned man with his hand up Nicky's arse), I also found myself becoming a big fan of the idea we have 'Bad Idea Bears' in our lives. In the show, they're cute 'Care Bear' like creatures who appear at the most inappropriate moments in the character's lives, dispensing bad advice and luring them into trouble in order to experience short-lived enjoyment. They represent the voice in your head that encourages you to do that wrong thing, like; have another round when you really need to go home, spend money you don't have, saying or doing the most inappropriate things on a date. I've been listening to my 'Bears' far too much recently. They're almost having a summer vaction in my head. I've been having lots of 'Me' time recently, spending time and money on myself and not been in touch with so many of my friends. I don't feel guity about it, as I've needed to concentrate on myself and not chase after the rest of the world for a bit, as it was beginning to wear me out. I do think it's a good idea to imagine 'bad ideas' as dumb soft toys though. At the end of the show, the Bad Idea Bears become Scientologists. I do think it's important to listen to them every now and then, otherwise we'd just go plain mental and end up being Vegan Conservative Methodists or something.

Bud...

2007-01-28T23:56:00.001+11:00

Well, the cast list was finally announced at 1am on Friday, much like the General Elections, the flurry of excitement throughout the day between fellow Centre Stagers, slowly petered out as and when people got tired of waiting. Friday morning arrived and I checked my email to see if I had managed to bag the title role of 'Bat Boy' himself and... no, I didn't get it. I'm a tad gutted as you can imagine.

If this was an Oscar press release, I'd probably be saying something like, "It was just an honour to be nominated, I pass on my warm hearted congratulations to the lucky winner" or something as equally anodyne. Thankfully, I'm not. This is my blog and I can rant if I want to. I suppose the experience of taking part in one show and spending hours of preparation for this audition allows me some justified resentment. I'm not ungrateful for the part I have been given, the role of Bud the West Virginian farmer and I'm also over the moon to be part of another show. It's just that there aren't many leading roles in musicals I could realistically go for, what with my stature and looks. Plus, the role of Bat Boy required someone to be odd and quirky, funny yet have a vunerable and angry side and on also on a technical level, have a wide vocal range, which I have. So for me, this was a role I thought I had a decent chance in getting. I, along with others are taken aback it's gone to a tall good looking person, not my first vision of what the character should be. I admit, I'm not the strongest dancer in the eyes of the choregrapher (and I'm working on that with my weekly tap classes) and I'm sure my audition wasn't perfect. I am pleased I tried my best though and I hoped I made them see what I'm capable of. One day I'll get to belt out some heart-felt songs in front of an audience of family and friends. Something I was really keen in doing, especially before I escape this country later in the year.

I'm sure in the next couple of weeks when the show gets going, I along with others, who are more disappointed than I am, will get over it and start mucking in and concentrate on making it another great show.

Perhaps I'll do a Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls and do such a knock out supporting performance, they'll have to despense tremendous amounts of praise on me.

Okay, overly warped acting ego finished. Over and Out.

ALW...

2007-01-24T20:41:00.001+11:00

I got to meet Andrew Lloyd Webber last night or ALW as his friends call him, at his showcase of Andrea Ross, his new 15 year old protege who is immensely talented and annoyingly fresh faced and American. It is true what they say about ALW though, he is like a giant bug. All limbs and eyes. I was aware that Natalie and I were probably in a long line of 'hangers on' and kept it light and left him be after a few minutes, only for him to be accosted by some guy who was terribly keen to show him his musical theatre magazine. I saw ALW's eyes roll, he heaved an inaudible sigh, giving the nervous man a well rehearsed smile and began fawning interest. I suppose to be that successful and have this kind of attention thrusted your way continuously must be quite excruciating at times.

Perhaps I should have belted out a show tune at him. Just for fun. And before security had the chance to escort me off the premises.

Quote of the Week...

2007-01-20T01:35:00.001+11:00

I don't give a diddly squat about Channel 4's Celebrity Big Brother and the escalated racism row going on with former BB contestant Jade Goody and the Bollywood actress Shilpa Shetty who are currently incarcerated together. It has spawned opinions in everyone from own our own homes and offices, to our Chancellor Gordon Brown to (most likely) the entire country of India by this time tomorrow. Another ratings war won by Channel 4 and essentially, a sad reflection on how we seem to idolise celebrity more than the real issues and also how we perceive each other in this post 9/11, sensitive interracial climate we live in today.

What did make me laugh out loud was Frankie Boyle's comment on the TV show 'Mock The Week' last night. He spoke about the fact we - the general public and the media, despite the fact we are all fully aware she is, how the Dictionary would describe as - 'a moron', have willingly elevated Ms Goody to her current status of 'celebrity', to only now be shocked by the fact she has said some highly offensive and stupid remarks. A naive reaction, and I quote Frankie:

"The equivalent of training a chimpanzee to be a butler, but then to be horrified later on, when it decides to throw it's own shit at the dinner guests".

A boy with fangs in his mouth...

2007-01-10T11:10:00.002+11:00

The read through for 'Bat Boy' was essentially, a miniature reunion for Centre Stage members. As we congregated together to hear the plans for the new show, it was as if someone had flicked a 'rewind' button, that had taken us back four months, yet this time faces were familiar with banter and gossip in full flow and without trepidation. We perched once more on the hard plastic moulded school chairs that are only found in school assembly halls and Women Institute meetings, listening to the director's take on the show he had in mind for us. It sounded bigger and more exciting than I imagined. The chance to be with the gang again is enough to lift everyone's spirits, despite what reservations anyone has about the actual show.

Auditions for the show are being held next Sunday. Time to practice. Especially as I got into the last show solely on the fact I was 'A Boy'. Time to prove I can actually sing, dance and act. Well, sing, dance and act better than last time I stood in front of them and auditioned.

Oww...

2007-01-09T21:23:00.001+11:00

Yesterday I stabbed myself in the palm of my hand with a bread knife, not a cry for help, just an idiotic relapse. I then did the washing up and cut two of my fingers on another knife. I followed this by trying to remove some plastic snowflake decorations welded to my living room window with sticky tape, proceeding to gash another finger and leaving a streak of my own blood across the glass. As you can imagine, my hands needed some medical attention by this point, you know, a bit of anticeptic and some sticky plasters. It was only then, when I ripped the plaster packaging open and gave myself a paper cut, I completely lost it.

I'm finding it difficult to type this.

My year to come according to Shelley...

2007-01-04T01:37:00.001+11:00

GEMINI
Being one of the friendliest and most inquisitive signs, your life has always been influenced by those around you – friends, family and colleagues - and by events. But during 2007, it may seem as if decisions are in the hands of others. This is no bad thing, as they’re able to do wonders for you. The problem is, you’re restless. You’ll make changes, settling on new plans, but not until early September, when the practical Saturn shifts to accent your domestic and working life. After that a combination of powerful insights and changes in circumstance shape your thinking and your activities.

Love and Relationships: Either somebody you know is in a position to spoil you or there’s big time love on the horizon. Even work relationships are blessed with brilliant stars. You need only say yes and the rest is magical.

Finances and work: Explore your options during the year’s first half, ensuring you both know your facts and what you want to achieve. That ensures you’re ready for dazzling ideas or opportunities soon after mid-year.

Health and Well Being: The fast pace could take its toll, with too much to do in too little time. Since you shouldn’t say no to any of this, take frequent, if short breaks and practice stress reduction techniques.

...Apparently.

This Year I...

2006-12-31T22:36:00.002+11:00

... said goodbye to my flat mate ... and hello to her again in Melbourne two weeks later ... saw Madam Butterfly at the Sydney Opera House ... jumped out of a plane at 14,000 feet ... swam the Great Barrier Reef ... trekked a rainforest ... accidently convinced a new friend I belonged to a cult ... wasted money on an upmarket dating agency ... made friends with my neighbours ... finally got to go to the Ivy, and found it overrated ... fullfilled an old resolution by finally joining an Am Dram group ... bought tap shoes ... got to see Idina Menzel soar on Opening Night ... read at my best friend's wedding ... mistook Beverley Knight for Beverley Knight ... partied all night for the first time in years ... hugged a 6ft 2" sailor ... sang at the Royal Albert Hall ...

... started a blog.

Happy New Year everyone. May 2007 bring many exciting new changes to your life!

Recently...

2006-12-21T09:37:00.001+11:00

I've noticed over the last three months I've done some hardcore reflection on my life. I have to start writing some more flippant entries. You know, the ones that remind people how loud, mad and silly I am.

I need more observations about daily life. Those 'you never know what happened to me today' stories. You know, the ones people actually listen to, rather than the ones people nod to politely, as they try remember if they flushed the toilet before they left the house that morning.

The Boys...

2006-12-19T09:17:00.003+11:00

For all intents and purposes, I have never belonged to a group, a 'posse', a 'collective', a 'gang'. As far as I can remember, being the new boy at school sort of hindered that achievement in social climbing. But here I am, being referred to as one of 'The Boys' this week - namely Matt, Charlie, Murray and myself, the three dudes from Centre Stage who are always seen together apparently. Strange, as I never noticed it forming but obviously observers have picked up on it and decided to label us.

I've always whinged repeatedly I'm too straight for the gay world and too gay for the straight world, hence me never finding an intimate group of people to call my own. I've always had many one-to-one friendships, occasionally they know each other through random coincidences like work or university, but most of are definitely individual friendships I have cultivated over the years. It has been an intense few months, and perhaps my observations of new friends maybe short-lived and superficial, I sincerely hope not, but these past few weeks have been a strange learning curve when it has come to people and what makes a connection happen when it comes to 'making friends'. I've likened it to driving lessons. You can either learn to drive gradually over a period of months or years or go on a two week crash course and get your licence by the end of it. Joining Centre Stage put me through a similar assault course when it came to making new acquaintances. You learn very quickly who you like and even who you despise and can't stand the sight of. Those you do get on with, you get on with incredibly well and some have become as close as my existing long-term friendships. It all sounds terribly gushy and overly analytical to be making this point, but I have made great friends in Charlie, Murray and Matt and I hope it grows to become something I value greatly. Like most things, time will tell and this will probably be the only time I put it under the microscope.

It is a odd pleasure to be totally aware that you are 'bonding' with someone and they in turn, are also noticing it take place. That two or even three in this instance, disparate souls, who through a twist of fate and coincidence find themselves inhabiting the same living space and simply click into place. Perhaps this is quite a deep observation of three guys making friends with each other but as we said to each other week in a completely shit-faced, emotional state we're 'so glad we've met each other'. As you can imagine more hugs proceeded this 3am slurred conversation. Yes, I am effectively writing about getting pissed with your mates and telling them how much you love them, but if I went into further detail to why it meant so much, I'd probably lose the friends I have just gained.

I could have said becoming mates with Murray, Matt and Charlie has given me a warm glow inside but that would have made me sound like a Care Bear and requires less prose.

If I am on my tod again a few months time, sans 'The Boys' please of course skirt round the subject and never mention this entry to me again. On the otherhand things could be changing for the better and I do have a good track record of keeping friends, so I shouldn't be embarrassed by celebrating it.

Thank You...

2006-12-09T01:58:00.001+11:00

I sat next to R&B pop sensation 'Thank you for the Bruises' Jamelia last night at the 'DEJA VU' Premiere. She talked all the way through it and when I offered her my unwanted complimentary popcorn, she gave me a look that suggested I might as well smother lard over her legs and call her Fatty McFat Fat.

Nice lady. Ironic for someone who named her Top 10 hit after a term for being polite.

Behind the curtain...

2006-11-30T00:42:00.002+11:00

It's been a long time since I've written in this thing and for good reason. As you may know, this month was going to be pretty intense what with 'Anything Goes' rehearsals and it culminating with 'Show Time' last week. I could write all sorts about the experience, it has conjured up a lot of mixed emotions, mostly positive I must add, and it has shown me what sort of new things I am capable of. I have made some unexpected new friends, rediscovered my 'chest' and 'head' voice and have learnt that tap shoes are cheaper if you 'bulk buy' from a catalogue. It was incredibly important for me to do something for myself at this stage in my life, to find focus and to get away from the elements in my life that were grinding me down. Talking to the friends I have made in the cast now, I wasn't the only one feeling the same way about my life when I considered joining. Whether this makes me a cliche or not, or just plain normal, who cares. Truth be told, it worked, and I discovered a side to me that I had forgotten about a long time ago. As much as I like to perform to friends, I have certainly mellowed over the years, pruning that side of my flamboyant personality into something vaguely acceptable for 'day-to-day' society. Actors usually tend to let this side of themselves overgrow and flourish into every part of their lives, leaving themselves a tad self-centred and overtly dramatic most of the time but also acquiring a 'steamrolller' sense of total confidence and magnetic appeal I find admirable in some respects, especially as I think far too much about how I am perceived and worry over the actions I take. This show, has bought a lot of confidence and warmth of enthusiasm I seem to have lost years ago. The experience did however make me slightly bitchy again, luckily other cast members remarked they felt the same way. So I didn't feel too bad about this unwanted and new personality trait and I've made a conscious effort to suppress it.

The variety of new people who are now a part of my life is also quite remarkable. They really are from a different mould all together. I've been so lucky to have shared this part of my life with them. As I nursed my 'aftershow party' hangovers with a fellow co-cast member, he remarked how much the show had changed his life, given him a new found passion, something to think about outside work, that he no longer felt 'lost'. You can't help feeling totally beholden and in awe of that. Something so simple as an after work hobby could mean so much to someone. On reflection, it has undoubtably breathed new life into my stale routine too. The emotional and intense path has thrust some issues to the forefront of my subconsciousness, many of which I have failed to address for years. There is nothing like doing something that scares you, in order to beat your fears and build a sense of internal growth. Along with the eccentric personalities who have crossed my path, and without sounding cringeworthy, I hope I've made some true long term friends out of the show. Diva personalities and weirdos aside, there are definitely a select few, that over time, I can see, not only belting out a show tune with, but also laughing in a crowded bar at 3am or having a heart-to-heart with over a piece of badly made toast. The ever popular Charles is definitely one of them. He's surprised me in so many ways and he's probably not aware that over these past few months, he's taught me a lot of life lessons and shown me how to be focused and believe in yourself. I need to thank him for that.

So, onwards. Questions about 2007 and my future plans have drifted into my thoughts. I want to do 'Bat Boy', the next Centre Stage show. Again, it will take up a huge chunk of my life. I do have to think about seriously confirming my Australia plans in the new year. Life has thrown me an interesting curve ball, I just have to use it to its advantage now.

Some Shots of the Show...

2006-11-28T11:08:00.005+11:00

Yes, we finally did it!

To see all the photos from our 'Anything Goes' production click here.

For Siobhan & Chris...

2006-11-14T22:31:00.001+11:00

WHAT IS LOVE?

Sooner or later we begin to understand that love is more
than verses on valentines and romance in the movies.
We begin to know that love is here and now,
real and true, the most important thing in our lives.

For love is the creator of our favourite memories
and the foundation of our fondest dreams.
Love is a promise that is always kept,
a fortune that can never be spent,
a seed that can flourish in even the most unlikely of places.

And this radiance that never fades,
this mysterious and magical joy, is the greatest treasure of all
- one known only by those who love.

ANON

It was a real honour for me to read this for you both on your special day.

Rich x

24/7 Tap

2006-11-04T04:23:00.002+11:00

We've sold out the entire run for Anything Goes! I am humming the tenor tunes for the main numbers whilst on the train platform every morning. I am tapping my trainers to the beat of the music under my desk at work. My mind wanders whilst talking to clients, as I begin to ponder what is my line after Moonface says "I'm a Missionary". Yes, the show is now fully engrained into my day-to-day life and I feel as though I can't escape the immaculately tailored clutches of Mr Cole Porter.

It's Showtime!

2006-10-27T00:33:00.001+10:00

Charlie says....

2006-10-22T07:47:00.001+10:00

You may remember me mentioning Charlie, the new boy in our Am Dram group for Anything Goes. I briefly mentioned him a while back. Well, I thought I'd mention him again, as I quite like mentioning him now to friends. Actually, everyone in the company keeps mentioning him. In fact, most of us know our markers for certain dance routines, simply based on knowing where we're standing in relation to where Charlie is. Yes, the ladies giggle and swoon as if they truly were 1920s flapper girls, all in awe of an incredibly charming environmental lawyer with boyish good looks who is apparently single, and well, actually straight! The gays amongst us, flirt, try and catch glances of his arms when the moment allows and resist trying to manhandle him in the wings.

I'm in the terrible, terrible, terrible position where most of the dance numbers have me holding his hand, or holding his waist, or having our arms linked, or in one scene, picked up and carried off by him. The director and choreographer obviously see the comic potential between the two of us with our extreme differences in height. Despite all this overblown cooing from all directions, I have to say, Charlie is a phenomenally nice guy. Cast the mop of thick jet black hair, cheeky eyebrows, chest like a bow of a ship and arms of Roman statuesque proportions aside - he's genuinely very sweet, very sincere and makes a conscious effort with everyone around him. I admire that, as I try and do the same. And we've now bonded. Well, I'd like to think we have.

He insists on being my partner at every opportunity, as if I am some font of knowledge concerning all things am dram and has even asked to meet up outside of rehearsals to practise even more. What is a boy to do? I suppose I must yield to his demands. What a cross to bear indeed, I hear you cry. It's terribly flattering as a performer to have such new found adoration from a colleague. I answered my phone late on Thursday night to discover it was Charlie on the other end, belting all the different song lyrics to 'Anything Goes'. This went on for about ten minutes. He was very chuffed with himself and wanted to tell me apparently and I just wanted to hug him for all his efforts.

Anyway, this was a very long note to really say "Here's a photo of Charlie, the good-lookin' one from my Am Dram group."

Stephen...

2006-10-19T00:16:00.003+10:00

A colleague of mine who works at See Tickets died last week of liver cancer after being diagnosed on the 22nd of September. He was 30 years old and about to marry his girlfriend. Cliched as it sounds, it does makes you think.

What are my priorities? Am I living to them? Here's to you Mr Downie and to drunkenly singing 'Popular' on the Number 3 Night Bus at 3am. My thoughts are with you and your family.

To respond to my sister's concerns that some of my entries on here have been solemn, (didn't you read my Beverley Knight story below - it's hilarious!) I hope that I have kept these entries as honest and as varied as possible. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball and you have to dive to catch it. Sometimes you're just all 'butter fingers' and drop the damn thing. And you curse yourself. I'm allowed to have those days. Just don't worry too much. I am a yo-yo of emotion. I do untangle myself in my own time. I just don't write about the untangling as much as I should. Yes, my love life can hang from a perilous thread sometimes. But show me a person whose romantic entanglements don't these days!

That's not a call to submit names of happy couples by the way, like Sting and Trudie Styler or Bert and Ernie.

Shudda said something else...

2006-10-17T02:58:00.002+10:00

I went to my friend Shura's birthday party on Friday night with my friend Becky. We sat in Shepherds Bar. I, munching a packet of Walkers Sensations whilst Becky nibbled on a Cadbury's Boost. We were both starving and couldn't be arsed to buy the overpriced bar food. The bar itself, was owned by and in the same building as the company Endemol, the makers of Big Brother. It was full of 'medja' types and while we waited for Shura to turn up, we churned out our usual conversation, overlapping each other's tales, as we normally did, twitching in nervous anticipation, much like a pair of nervous lap dogs waiting to be petted by Barbara Cartland.

Two hours later, the party was in full swing and we found ourselves sat with Shura, who had embraced my gift of a vintage Swarovski bracelet with such abundant joy and passion that only she could give. Pleased I had become 'Present Giver Of The Year' once again, I sat back, relaxed and started talking to the collective of friends around me. Becky was being praised by a young black girl who exclaimed how beautiful Becky was, which to be fair, she is. She is quite the bohemian, tousled hair of feminine beauty and beads indeed - no matter what she thinks. An hour later, I found myself chatting to the same envious lady and felt compelled to tell her unequivocally, that despite thinking my friend was incredibly pretty, she herself was quite stunning too. "Oh no. I look rough as houses tonight." she protested. "Nonsense," I replied, "You look like fucking Beverley Knight for fuck sake!"

To which she replied "I am Beverley Knight."

Familiar Territory...

2006-10-06T17:28:00.001+10:00

Once again, I find myself heading off into the sunset alone. Another layer of hope within has curled up and died after another 'interested' man decides he's not that interested after all. Yet the signals were there and I'm made to feel a bit of an idiot believing that they were somehow genuine. More than just a knock back, it is a sad repetitive pattern of how my dating process seems to never get past 'first base'. I'm not sure how much of my confidence, that I have spent the last few years building up, can take now. I realise I mustn't give up hope and I'm very proud of myself that I've come along way from the nervous, inept and totally inexperienced person I was several years ago, I do worry all that self-esteem building seems to be crumbling away, back to its original insecure form. I have to be careful, be strong and keep focused. It's been a while since I mentioned the guy I met at the party, and for good reasons too, I was keeping it to myself, trying to enjoy the moment without analysing every minute of it, like I always do. Close friends were obviously kept in the loop, those poor people had to listen to every cautionary tale of communication, every moment of self doubt and every whirl of excitement every time I heard from him. I was determined to 'play it cool' and be casual about it, as one is supposed to be in these situations. Fat lot of good that did me.

I realise people have their own agendas. I am dismayed how many people use email and and text to avoid face to face communication. Call me old fashioned but that is kind of cowardly and I appreciate even a phone call if meeting someone to discuss issues is too confrontational for some.

Bitch over. Back to single life and being a bit more selfish. Men. If they want me, they can come and claim me.

Getting Away...

2006-10-04T18:27:00.002+10:00

I have returned from the family holiday relatively unscathed and surprisingly tired. My desire to sleep in over my 4 day break was thwarted by several sheep outside the farm cottage we were staying in and my parents habit of waking at the crack of dawn to potter round the open plan holiday home, which was a cross between a Von Trapp Family chalet and something young offenders use on 'day release'. To be fair, it was a refreshing change to be somewhere different and the fact the folks had gone to the effort to bring us together, what with my sister's dilemmas and our family unit being thrown across the world over the past year, it was comforting to see us all in the same room, eating together, all laughing about the same things, walking along the same bit of countryside or coastline. It's also a reminder how things never change even though many elements of your own life move on dramatically and change significantly. We get caught up with 'stuff' that a reminder of stability is quite unnerving in a way. I'm not sure if that's comforting or not to be honest.

Start typing...

2006-09-24T08:49:00.003+10:00

"Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes, by Stephen King"Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes, by Stephen King

Honest. Clever. Simple.

Off to Brighton...

2006-09-22T09:06:00.001+10:00

Will be heading off to Brighton next week to begin our family holiday in Rye. So I thought I'd add my favourite photo from my last trip to Brighton Pier.

Junctions...

2006-09-21T19:19:00.001+10:00

I have a huge desire to write something tonight but for the life of me have no idea as what to talk about. If I was to be brutally honest, life is in a bit of a stalemate at the moment and has been for quite some time now. Urges to change parts of my life since returning from Australia, setting new goals in motion have been met with irritating and unnecessary hurdles. I might as well be made of rubber and relentlessly throw myself against a big brick wall. I am terribly impatient, not one of my more redeeming qualities, I admit. If I looked back over the past seven months, there are things I should be proud of like taking part in Anything Goes, other things have more than niggled though, like securing a higher paid job in order to save towards Australia. This has been like forcing an elephant up a staircase. With just your index finger. I've been beaten down at every available moment by the industry I 'love', I find myself having advanced forward the length of a gnat's cock which is pitifully frustrating and a little draining to say the least. I know I'm not alone in thinking this about my job and it's far from being a original insight in this day and age, I'm just not convinced it should be this hard that's all. I wish I was more gutsy (and richer) to just go 'Fuck it. Why not.' and just go and face whatever consequences are out there. Alas, I am far too responsible and I'm sure my bank would have something to say about it too (although they would probably ask me for my postcode and third and last digits of my password before giving me their opinion).

On a change of subject, you may have remembered me talking about a party I went to in Clapham two weeks ago. I met a man. As you do. He was a very charming man. A very sexy man. I took a shine to him. I tried my hardest to remain cool and in control. I managed to escape, unscathed, with number of said man inside phone. A small victory for a small man with big confidence issues. You maybe wondering what's happened since then. Well, that was two weeks ago and very little has happened since. Okay, we have conversed on email and text briefly, (my two most loathed forms of communications when it comes to getting know someone new) things are progressing very slowly and time has cast its shadow of doubt over how 'into' me he really is. I must march forward with a smile though, be determined not to freak out and say something inappropriate or off-putting in his presence as I might as well start reaching through prison bars of my padded 'single' cell, gurning the words 'Please Love Me!' at anyone who happens to walk past. It's wonderfully attractive image and becoming of a young man my age, I know, although I sometimes think we should embrace these images of honesty that flash inside our heads. They make me laugh and tend to slap a bit of sense into my overly romanticised head.

I trundle on.

Ta Dah, it's wicked!

2006-09-19T17:56:00.001+10:00

On my way home on Saturday night, and saw this poster site with the two favourite things I am looking forward to spending my hard-earned cash on next week. So much for saving money this month.

An Open or Closed Book...

2006-09-16T22:03:00.001+10:00

I have been criticised by some, that I have been quite open and candid on this blog. Have I? I'm not sure. It does make you ask questions, I suppose. I'm aware there is an element of risk, but on the otherhand, if you're not personal and intimate enough in a journal, it becomes dry and unreadable. There is the 'exposure' factor, that anyone could read your daily thoughts and use them against you, to judge you perhaps, but I'm finding it therapeutic in a way. Almost exhilarating, like pressing your foot down on the accelerator, when you know you're past the speed limit. It forces you to analyse your actions, your attitude, observe lifes bumps and grinds or jiggles of fun from another angle. I want people to know they're not alone in their neuroses and expectation of what life brings. We all desire a decent amount of happiness and luck once in a while as we go through daily dilemmas, it's what keeps life compelling and thought-provoking. I don't want to join the ranks of those bloggers who put up photographs of their cats, their collection of plastic buttons or men they they'd like to shag, but don't have the time to as they spend 24 hours a day scanning the internet for porn. I love the undiluted pleasure of writing. Those dormant creative muscles, being forced to warm up and stretch their literary legs a bit. Remembering that there are numerous words to be found and used to describe one's life, more so, than the proverbial terms of 'nice', 'boring' and 'okay'. One of my close friends, who is a far greater writer than myself, exclaimed that she couldn't write about her life as it would be a bit dull, I don't believe her. We all have stories to tell and within them, we find allegories, lessons to be shared and jokes to pass on.

Through this reflection, we find our potential, our boundaries, our lust that drives us forward and sometimes mad. The disgraced author James Frey said in this weeks Guardian interview, that we live in a fast world, we think fast and everything has to happen now. Not a new observation I know, but not enough of us do take the time out to reflect, to stop, sit back and breathe in what has just happened to us. The paranoia of the 'now' grasps many of us by the throat and usually its our own hands which are strangling us. Will we be the generation that had everything available to them, but never took the time to stop and truly embrace it? We constantly look for future happiness and never think about whether it's in the palm of hand already or literally round the corner from us all along. I will stop this diatribe now, in fear I will come across as bleak or morbid, which I'm not - just having a very profound moment that's all. I do think it is important to take stock and cherish what we have though. I whinged about being nice and so dependable a few weeks ago, as it never seems to get me anywhere. Only to receive a letter the next day from my dearest godmother in hospital, who wrote me a simple line of praise saying, 'I love you for many things - one very special one being your constancy'.

Life is hard; especially when you go through it resisting the 'norm', in order to keep the faith, to retain a sense of identity and worth. It's so easy to take the simple, hassle-free route in life. Follow the herd. Get swept away by the current trend. I've always believed if doing the right thing was the easiest thing to do, then we'd all be wearing halos. Sometimes, you do lose the fight and it occasionally makes you want to give up your cause. Yet this obstinant determination does have its rewards. Especially, when the braver friends and strangers around you, notice what you do and what you believe in. I thank those and admire them for their resolve, especially my godmother Jean for recognising those qualities within me at a time I wanted to simply give up, while she faces much more unimaginable challenges.

Suppressing my Woody...

2006-09-13T07:46:00.001+10:00

I don't blame this man personally. It's just the collection of analytical neuroses he represents. I have many Woody Allen instances, a characteristic that has almost become less of a trait of mine and more an hourly buzzing inside my head. So much so, my friends describe it as having one of my 'Woody Allen Moments'. This is me, to those who know me well. The apprehension of success in anything - whether it be work, love or whatever, comes under the gaze of this Jewish auteur sitting inside my head. As if he's mentally typing out another one of his 'not so good as Annie Hall but better than Match Point' scripts on a miniature typewriter inside my cranium. He comes into his own when it comes to men though, especially men who give me any form of attention which has the possibility of it going somewhere. This is when I analyse the communication between myself and the guy so much, it sucks all the joy and fun out of meeting them and it becomes a slowly collapsing souffle of a date or potential relationship. Sometimes, it doesn't even get that far. It goes almost like this:

"Hello, I'm Richard."
"Hi there, nice to meet you."

Cut to internal Allen voice:

"What does he mean by that? He must hate me, I'm fool, why couldn't I have been nonchalant and aloof like everybody else and just say 'Hi'! Whats the point of carrying on? It'll end in tears!"

Okay, that was an extreme - but you get my point. Back to the situation in hand. I should be enjoying the fact I have actually heard back from the guy I met on Saturday night - a reply to a text I promised to send him on Monday. It was a brief response, I admit and not as long as I would have liked, especially after the witty prose I put together in order to say, "Hi it's me. Remember me." Unfortunately, this has woken Mr Allen from the depths of my thoughts and I really don't want his input on this one. Despite Woody's presence, I have reminded myself that on the whole - it is good news. I should allow myself to relish this for a moment and bask in the glory of the minor achievement of 'first contact'. Woody is tapping my shoulder though. Woody is asking me to reread the text a hundred times and my initial text to him and ask "Why hasn't he agreed to seeing you again yet, why was it so short and vague?" I hate Woody at the moment as you can imagine, as I vowed to play it cool with this one. A guy I've met through coincidence, in person and without having to type a username and password first. Woody is the number one reason I am probably single and why men tend to run away from me, like children being invited into Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch. So I have filed a mental restraining order on him. Not Michael Jackson. Woody. This is really hard, as Woody keeps pressing his haggard old face and thick spectacles against the glass wall of my conscience, mouthing words of defence and giving me sad, apologetic looks that the real Woody Allen probably makes for writing Melinda & Melinda. I keep wanting to take pity on him and let him back into my mind, I know full well if I do, he will damage this one chance of fun and adventure I'm having with a guy who made me laugh on Saturday night in a room full of drunk strangers. A man, who believe it or not, was funnier than me, who made me truly laugh and made me want to spend time getting to know him a bit more.

Woody must not win. Gut feelings must prevail.

"You're a 'Glass Half Full Man' aren't you?"

2006-09-11T05:30:00.001+10:00

You find yourself in the most uncomfortable of circumstances sometimes, in which there is no one to blame but yourself for being in that situation; as you have put these factors into motion, you have made the decision, you have forced yourself to go through with it. No one to berate and no one to curse. You verses a potential armada of affliction to wade through. I found myself on Saturday night, reliving this predicament as I walked to Colonel Henge's House Warming Party. I knew no one there, I didn't even really know him, having spoken only on the phone and online. It was to be our first introduction after a series of cancelled meetings. No longer a date, just friends, who happened to help each other out. I was keen to go, just to say thank you for putting me in touch with the Amateur Dramatics company I've just joined and to meet his friend, Dan whose also a member of Centre Stage. I walked down the street towards his house in trepidation, clutching my bottle of M&S Rose like a stress relieving device and tried to supress the anxious thoughts whirring round in my head. After arriving at the door and finding myself giving silent nods of recognition at two girls who had also rocked up for the party, I took deep stifled breaths and wondered if it was wasn't too late to just run down the stairs and escape into the ether of Clapham High St and head back home. I think Henge was surprised to see me, he was charming, funny, polite as he seemed on the phone and online but also far better looking than I imagined. A tad annoying, knowing it would probably make things even more strained for me. He welcomed me warmly and I may have been paranoid, swore he threw a shocked glance at his fellow housemate, as if they had assumed I wouldn't turn up at all. Still, I smiled and continued to put on the charm offensive and made my usual introductory jokes. A few sank faster than a tanker full of lead elephants, I continued however not to let this get to me. I then met his new boyfriend, Richard and wondered again, what the hell I was doing here with a bunch of happy, intimate strangers. These new forays are either a great choice to make or just 'hell on earth on a Saturday night' and I was beginning to think I had make a mistake coming but a few more people rocked up and and the flurry of 'hellos' eased the situation. Then I started chatting to a guy who like me, knew nobody except one of the hosts. I don't want to write too much more now, as what happened next was unexpected and essentially made my night, but to cut a potentially long and over analytical story short, (in case the fates are watching and want to continue their cruel torture) I met an incredibly, lovely guy. Really lovely. A naff description perhaps, but apart from not being willing to divulge anymore in case it doesn't go any further, he was simply lovely. We talked to each other all night and 'got on'. Was it anything more than just friendly banter? Who knows. I'm hoping it might be. We did swap numbers. So, we shall see if any comes of it or not.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, as cliched as it sounds, is that you just never know. I hope Buddha is smiling affectionately now. I feel as though I deserve it.

Virginia...

2006-09-08T21:01:00.001+10:00

This is a truck, in the woods behind my Aunt, Alex's house in West Virginia. I took this picture ages ago, it now hangs up above my television, reminding me of how much I loved spending time with Alex. An incredibly inspirational woman and I learnt a lot of life lessons, while I was with her. I will always be indebted to her for that.

Nice...

2006-09-03T22:33:00.001+10:00

It's official. I am too nice. I join the ranks of Mother Theresa, Jesus and Dame Joan Plowright. Not normally seen as fault a few hundred years ago, it was probably even seen as a quality to be sought after, but now in this cynical, hard-edged, reality TV sludge of an age, it's not so cool. It's wrong. People don't want 'nice' anymore. Perhaps I am just slow on the mark. It's not sexy, or cute and apparently it won't help you get what you want. Over the last few years people have been telling me to not be so 'nice'. I ignored them. Actually, I find it incapable of being 'not nice'. Now people who hardly know me are telling me to not be so nice. Not their fault, they pick up on it. Alarm bells kick in, my conscience huddles into the air raid shelter of my thoughts. I find myself being nice to arseholes who let me down. Yes, what is that all about, indeed? Much like a hamster in a wheel, I can't seem to stop myself from being courteous and understanding, I just keep doing it instinctively. I have to get angry. Annoyed. Vexed. Pissed off a lot more. (And yes, I've been using my new Thesaurus.) If I can achieve the status of being called a 'Right C*nt', perhaps only then will things start going my way. Shame really, as nice is pretty well, 'nice' most of the time.

She'll never find it...

2006-09-01T09:11:00.001+10:00

See, I'm having a cynical day today. I think the dog has run away as it's embarrassed by the fact their owner is called Babette. Or it's just a very, clever fly-poster for a new indie band.

Two Left Feet

2006-09-01T08:47:00.001+10:00

I think too much. This is a well known fact amongst people who know me. My friend Becky describes it as when I have one of my 'Woody Allen' moments. It's just the way I am, I can't relax or enjoy myself half the time, as I'm ruminating over what could happen next, with a leaning towards the 'glass half empty' most of time. To most, I project a persona of enthusiasm and 'glass half full' but my close friends know I fret and fidget. Much like a graceful swan paddling furiously with his big webbed feet, so he doesn't get dragged into the current of the river.

I can't think for the life of me what to write about tonight. A cancelled date has thrown me into a bit of a melancholy this evening, well it wasn't a date, I was just looking forward to meeting someone new who I have a bit in common with thats all. I'd rather not project all woes onto my blog tonight though. I did have a great time yesterday at Centre Stage, doing the first dance rehearsal for the show. Bugger, there's a lot to learn. We had a new boy start called Charlie, but more about him later when there's something to tell. Needless to say, half of us melted like a tub of margarine left on window sill when he walked in. At 6ft 4", I think I'll just admire him from a distance for now. The photo is of my view from my bed. It's like having a live picture frame to think right through into infinity.

Or it could just be a Velux window.

MyInjuredDate.com

2006-08-30T18:29:00.001+10:00

I had a date last night, with lovely young guy through MySingleFriend.com. It almost never happened, as five minutes before he was meant to leave to meet me, he accidently stabbed himself with a kitchen knife. I started wondering if there's a distinct possibility I'm meant to be worshipping some Polynesian Tikki God of 'Dating' somewhere or perhaps I'd wronged a someone, somewhere, at some point in a former life maybe. Would a guy resort to stabbing themselves in order to get out of a date with me? Guys have made weaker excuses before, I thought.

Luckily, he turned up; bandaged and apologetic. We joked about it and told him my last date had slit his throat. I forgave him, mostly as he was really cute and incredibly funny in a northern 'Wai Yup' sort of way. Turned out, I was his first ever date with a guy, having only come out three months ago. Poor guy found it all a bit overwhelming I think. Told him, I'd been in his shoes before and not to be so hard on himself and he semed to enjoy our night out. He has a friend in me if he wants it at least.