If living is without you

Up until yesterday I didn't really like Gordon Brown. Now I love him and I want him back. I have felt this way before ...........

Degrees of separation

Excellent news! Yesterday over tea and scones at Yauatcha Soho I discovered that there is only four tiny degrees of separation between Eric Northman and I. Having worked wonders with far worse odds I am obviously thrilled. It turns out that the man I was having tea with is a very good friend of the actor Stephen Moyer who plays Bill in the True Blood series. My friend kindly offered to get me a signed photo – it was one of those moments when I thought ‘do you know me at all?’

Our lady of the lost causes

I ran into one of my more intense friends yesterday day; 'What are you up to then?' I said feigning interest. 'I am a starving artist' he replied importantly. Hardly concealing a sneer I retorted, 'Really - did Jean Genet claim housing benefit then?'

Better late than never

I just saw A Street Car Named Desire for the first time – I don’t know why but I found watching the disintegration of an aging fantasist quite disturbing. Brando was great though – again not some one I ever took much notice of previously – I watched the butter scene in Last Tango In Paris – but he was past prime in that movie so I kind of missed the point - till tonight.

Falling in love again

I have a new love and he is Mcnulty of the The Wire - I just watched 12 episodes in one day and my only thought is how to get my sticky mitts on more! The only sex scene was really lame though - he just huff and puffed on top of a rather plain red head - hopefully he will get his kit off and his freak on in series 2.

The Oracle

Its Guru Muru’s birthday today – I have my sacrificial Orchid and I am ready to feast with the sage of Bickenshall Mansions. Muru is a font of observational wisdom, if you consult him regarding your troubles he will enlighten you with ‘Darling it is life ....everywhere you go there is always one asshole!’

Just remember that death is not the end

Lux Interior of The Cramps died last night – which is really sad because every time an interesting man dies another ten bores from hell are sent to replace him. He was married to style icon Poison Ivy for an amazing 37 years and while I disapprove of all institutions I am touched when two perverts find a lifetime of entertainment together.

Over it already

I don't like him. I didn't like the last guy but I don't like the new one either.

My hands are tied

I saw this guy who used to go out with a woman I knew – he was a jerk (creepily tall) and she (creepily short) deserved him. He bought her over the elbow Prada leather gloves. He liked to tie her up with black ribbon when they had sex and get this – he couldn’t come unless she had stilettos on! So there he was in the Liberty Christmas sale this evening trawling around ladies’s wear with this woman who had identical straw coloured hair to my acquaintance. I thought it was her for a minute but actually she was even more worn out looking when she turned around. I had this urge though to run over to her and tell her that she was one of many, that his routines were transferable and that she might consider kicking him to the kerb while she still had a little dignity left in tacked. That he is hung up with his mother and can’t get over his x-wife and that her ‘dear jane’ letter was in the post. Two things this world does not lack though – complete wanker’s and women that will go out with them.

Take me back to Kansas : Part 1

Argg the grossest thing happened on the tube today – this creepy guy opposite was sitting pretty much on top of the woman next to him. All the length of his stubby leg was pressed all the way down hers in an other wise empty carriage. He was staring at me so I gave him a Paddington hard stare back and he screwed up his eyes and grabbed his crotch – Yuk. Then, when I got off the tube he followed me. Meaning he wasn’t with the woman that he had been pressing against and that dope had put up with it! He followed me to the ticket barrier and imagine his surprise when I yelled at the attendant ‘Hey that guy just grabbed his crotch on the tube’ he bolted of course. So long creep! I gave the attendant a sharp lecture on how since the Victorian Era was like so over , women must no longer be seen as targets for such impropriety and should be able to travel alone undisturbed.

S/he's lost control again

On Tuesday evening I went with my friend Pippa to see the new Joy Division documentary directed by Grant Lee. Although I enjoyed the film I have to say that I preferred Control – last years Joy Division movie way more, it was just so much more creative and invocative of the depressing North West. The documentary was made up of archive footage of Joy Division intercut with interviews with the members of the band and their associates who rather than kill themselves tragically young had opted to grow old, fat and boring. What stood out for me though were sections of interviews with Genesis Breyer P-orridge who had been a friend of lead singer Ian Curtis. He was just mesmerizing and so intelligent and coherent – most people would seem so cut in next to Pete Hook but Genesis is such an interesting artist. I found a series of interviews with him on the internet so click on the link (I can’t believe I have made hyper links !!) and check him out. I like a man who goes just that little bit further.

Thin on the ground

I noticed this picture of Keanu Reeves and it reminded me that there are some amazingly beautiful men in the world. I just don't see them about though , thousands of extremley attractive women but very few attractive men. Is it a London thing?