It's a burglary!

When you get back home and your things are gone... it's a burglary!
(Apologies to the BeeGees and whoever it was covered it late last decade or early this one).
May a pox fall upon the crack den of which ever fucked-up junkie decided last night he had more right to our belongings than we do. Thank you for not hurting the dog. I hope you enjoy my iPod... it's filled with Russian lessons which might confuse you a bit as I suspect you barely speak English on a good day. That was a present from my boyfriend you cnut. I don't mind you taking the work's phone but as to why you took the dead five-year-old Motorola off the counter I hadn't got around to recycling yet I am mystified. Not sure what you think you're going to sell that for. Very well done taking the charger for my phone, that was quite clever. You fucked up though because I bought it in Singapore so when you pulled it out the wall, you managed not to take the adapter with it. That should confuse the fuck out of your tiny little Ice-fucked brain.
But what really pisses me off is you took my brand spanking new Panam bag (purchased in Brisbane with great excitement) to carry all our stuff away with you. You fucking wanker! I bloody loved that bag!

But thank you for inexplicably not taking my laptop, DVD player, DVDs, CDs, camera, etc. We note you took our spare set of keys in case you feel like coming back for the items you've left behind. I shouldn't bother... I'm spending an entire day of my holidays at home now waiting for the locksmith to come.
Very best wishes for your impending overdose,
Bolton Gray.

Census for June... it has been a while since I did one of these

Reading: Just finished Holding The Man... about to start Dandy In The Underworld. I'm doing a gay lit thing at the moment.
Watching: Skins. See post below re this new obsession.
Listening: It has been Kylie X for a month or two but following a fantastic drive up the Pacific Highway with Daniel listening to Mika... I'm now listening to "Relax" on repeat for a few minutes.
Downloading: Not so much downloading as YouTubing - entire episodes of TV shows... and Mika, to be honest.
Website du jour: Skyscrapercity has been on my daily list for a while.
Café: Last time I wrote a census I said Milkd in Maylands was fab. Six months later my boyfriend has been working there for the last four months or so. Loyalty and honesty both compel me to admit that this is still my cafe of choice.
Pub: Not doing much pubbing in Perth lately. I thoroughly enjoyed my grotty night at The Beat in Brisbane. It's like a combination of the Court and Connies but with this bizarre Rise-style straight raver place downstairs in the same complex. It's been going for nearly three decades so I guess the mix works. LOL
Club: Well I'll have to say the Beat again. I haven't been anywhere else. Oh no wait... Daniel and I went to Arq on Sunday night. I don't remember much of that. God bless the Power of the Gods of Long Island Ice Tea.
Eating: Pasta I cooked up yesterday. So good.
Drinking: Long Island Ice Teas. Vodka Redbull. Gin and soda. Vodka Lime and Soda. I've been going nuts while I've been on holiday.
Wearing: Clothes that have been freshly laundered... unlike during the past week.
Last show: I went to the ballet just before my holiday and I have to say it was the most magnificent night out in forever. See post below.
Next show: I don't think I have any tickets to anything or know of anything good coming up, actually.
Can’t wait ‘til: Well all the things I was really looking forward to have come and gone. Although Thom and I have a thing tonight which should be awesome fun. And there is a gathering for Bea on I think Friday.
Most recent scoop: Well my most recent scoop was partially plucked out from under me. Less said the better. I hate the ABC.
Most recent purchase: Enough petrol to get me 1780km. A great jacket from Satch (on staff discount thank you very much). Heaps of presents, especially stubby holders.
Want but can’t afford: To be on holiday forever. Seriously considering paying off my flat ASAP and living in it... and just working enough to cover some travel and ongoing expenses. I'd like to be one of those work-six-months-travel-six-months kind of people. If I can pay the flat off in say five years, then I'll be ready to do it.
Need but can’t afford: Almost everything. It has been an expensive week or two.
Last nice act: I bought presents for people.
Last bad act: I pretended I didn't know my ex has a new boyfriend when I met him in Sydney. He just seemed to have gone out of his way not to mention it so I waited for him to 'unexpectedly' show up... which he did. Adam, I can still read you like a book. LOL. I'm pretty sure he doesn't read this any more... so let's just move on.
Bad news: Between the renovation and the holiday I am completely skint. Tell you what though, it's been a really fucking fun year from that perspective. Not every day you write a cheque for $8000.
Good news: I am only half way through my holidays.
Goal: Liz kept asking me, like repeatedly, what my goals are - where I see myself in five years. I can't pass the five year test. I don't know where I see myself. I've never really been without ambition before. I know I want to travel more. I know I want to pay off the flat so I'm debt free. But my goals have always been career related and at the moment I don't have any. I need to do a bit of soul searching on that. I'm genuinely happy now though... which is a start.
Yesterday I: Watched Skins all day.
Right now I should be:Getting ready to dash round to Thom's... he finishes work at 2pm and I have stuff I need to do first.
Later today I’m: Catching up with Thom and a friend or two for some good times.

Skins

A bit like Kato's admission on Penn Badgley, I have a bit of a thing for both coming-of-age story telling and boys in uniform. And to clarify... I'm not a paedo either. My own coming of age was perhaps a bit traumatic and I think a part of me is stuck inside 17-year-old me... which is probably more incest than paedophilia.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you all about Skins.
You might have seen it on SBS. I watched an episode of series one and liked it, but I never remember to tune into programs on TV and despite liking it, never saw it again. Then Andrew and I watched an episode of series two when I stopped with him in BrisVegas last weekend... and I became immediately hooked.
Monday I bought Series One. I had to really go looking for it as it had sold out at JB. Seems everyone is into it now. Series Two is now showing on SBS but I've watched as much as I can on YouTube already.
It is incredibly clever, original, funny, divergent, exciting story telling. I urge you all to watch it.
It's not a happy place. it's very angsty. It will fuck you up for a day or two.
But then... that's what the good stuff is supposed to do.

I always fall in love with gay teen characters. The ones who are proudly out and just being themselves. I wish that had been me. In the case of Skins, Maxxie holds a particular attraction because he also dances. Beautifully. I wish that were me.
Here he is.

It just makes me wonder... when did I stop grabbing life? Why didn't I do this shit when I was young enough to do this shit?
Anyway. Watch this series. It is fucking spectacular.

I'm back... from outer space...

You just walked in to find me here with that same look upon my face...

Hello darlings, I'm home. I had a truly fantastic week away with Daniel visiting the Allcorns, the Tourles and the marvellous Andrew. It was great just to get out of the city and the State for a week. To not have to read the paper. Not go to council meetings or think about stuff at home. I didn't even really see the news for most of a week. We listened to CDs instead of the radio and I completely chilled out.
We covered 1780km from Sydney to Brisbane via the back of Dubbo and saw some tremendous things, including the BIG guitar, banana and prawn. Photos are on Facebook if you want to take a look.
So now I'm back home and I have two weeks off. I've trusted myself to do one job a day and today it was take my drycleaning in, which I've already done and I'm bored so I'm also doing tomorrow's job which was finish my laundry. I'm going to be completely rebellious and dry them in front of the gas heater. I didn't know about the gas shortage/explosion thing until I got back from holidays so it doesn't seem real to me and I don't feel it counts therefore if I go on using gas as I always have.
I met plenty of new people while I was away but got no numbers so God knows who any of them were. Going out in Sydney was the same as always. Spastically drunk on Long Island Ice Teas and Vodka Redbull. Daniel and I felt we'd earned it.
We picked up our Wicked Van, which was rather tamely painted thank God... although it did have "Honk if you married the wrong sister" painted on the back. We got surprisingly few honks in the outback (perhaps people there don't admit such things?) but in Queensland it was out of control. Either that or Daniel and I are bad drivers and we've assumed perhaps wrongly they were honking at the tasteful screed.
Going back to Oxley Downs, or Naroo as it is actually called, just south of Dubbo, was a strange experience. It was wonderful to see Scott, Liz and Kennedy and I was so pleased to spend some real time with them - though sad the boys were at school and I didn't get to see them. Such a generous family and such a good time was had. Getting out to the Outback House homestead was a surreal experience though. It's the only way to describe it.
I guess it's a bit like a mummy of ancient Egypt. It looks about the same and it is surrounded by golden trinkets... but the life is missing. That's not the fault of Scott and Liz, who have done a truly wonderful job in preserving the place. There is nothing that could be done to make it seem less like a museum because that's what it is. It no longer has Brigid, Paul, Juli, Pierette, Persephone, Portia, Russell, Adam, Mal, Fiona, Dannielle, Claire... do you see my point?
It was like a scene from a movie for me. The kind of scene where you see the rusted old dinner bell swinging lifelessly in the wind, then you hear someone ring it and they flash back to some footage of the cook banging away at it and the children running to the kitchen for their lunch. Then it cuts back to the bell swinging lifelessly in the breeze.
It was a little sad. But I didn't cry. It was wonderful to be able to revisit it and I'm glad it is there. Very great love to Scott and Liz for keeping it.
Daniel and I went out in Brisbane too, this time with Andrew. Funnily enough I kind of know Andrew through Outback House too because at the height of it all I googled my name sliiiiiighly obsessively. That's how I came across Phil's blog. And that led to Andrews. Perhaps it was because he was cute, or perhaps because he was funny, I don't know, but I started reading it regularly. That was three years ago. I feel like we've been great mates all that time but I can't believe it has taken me so long to meet him. I was slightly nervous, but I needn't have been. He's a prince. A real find. Gorgeous and I adore him. Ever such a generous host, he showed us around and took us out on the town. Gay Brisbane is very much like gay Perth. Insular. Pretentious. Bitchy. I think I handled myself well in that I ignored almost everyone. Except for Andrew's way too heterosexual but hot and genuinely lovely flatmate Mitch.
Flying home I got to share a plane with the Fremantle Dockers, which was a slightly titilating. Who wouldn't be titilated? I mean they take the lead for three quarters, then roll over and come last. Divine.
Anyway... that's my shithouse summary of what was a truly marvellous week's holiday through the outback and two eastern seaboard capitals with my beautiful Daniel... who I love intensely and never get to spend any time with these days.
And now for another two weeks of reading, watching DVDs and trying to forget that I'm due back at work soon.

Daniel's traveling tonight on a plane...

But I'm not heading for Spain. I'm heading for Sydney, Dubbo, Coffs and BrisVegas. So excited. I get to see Daniel, Enda, the Tourles, Outback House (where I haven't been for four years), the Allcorns and dear Andrew up in Brissie.
So so excited. Hopefully will post from on the road... pictures bound to be on Facebook in about 10 days time.
Big licky love
D xxx

Ratting good read

Well I know it is not literature but that was a ratting good read. I don't spend nearly enough time reading any more but interestingly, since Thom has spent the week grinding out uni assignments, I've managed to chew through a great volume of gay chick-lit. Julian Clary, you continue to be one of my idols. A wonderfully funny book with a gorgeous level of gruesome and a delightful cast of characters. Perhaps a little too neatly wrapped up, but then a part of me finds that deeply satisfying. And great lashings of camp humour and that kind of gay love neurosis we tend to suffer from. Murder Most Fab. Fab indeed. It'll take most of my mates no more than an sitting to read it, but such a delight.

Murder Most Fab

"She insisted we drink white wine, favouring the oaky, rich Chardonnay that rolls down the throat like Spanish semen but gets you drunk and tired at the same time."
From Julian Clary's first novel, Murder Most Fab.
Which, too, is fabulous. Reading it right now.

Crabbed age and youth

The tragedy about youth is, you only get one shot at it. And if you were like me and wide-eyed to the world around you but oblivious to what lay beyond its (in my case, barbed-wired) borders, then chances are you have regrets.
For me, that regret is brought home every time I go to the ballet. As it was last night during and after the truly exquisite performance of The Taming of The Shrew.
When I was a little boy mum took me to art classes in the nearby village. I was seven and I think it was on a Saturday morning at the Parkerville Hall. My friend Melissa and her little sister went to ballet class in Mundaring. My Aunts had also done ballet in Mundaring in their time and I kind of grew up hearing a lot about it. I was fascinated with it. All I really knew was, boys didn't do ballet. And I spent most of my childhood drawing little pictures and sketches and so I was content to go to my art classes.
But there was always this nagging feeling that ballet was something for me.
I think I mentioned it to my Mum when I was about 12 or so that I would like to try ballet. She informed me I had left my run too late. I should have started when I was 5. Or 8 at the latest.
She was right, for the most part. Most dancers do start that early. God how I wish I'd pushed the point though. But then I was one of those kids how never stuck at much so it was probably, reasonably legitimately, dismissed as a flight of fancy,
I'm 28. I didn't truly discover ballet until I was in my early 20s.
I made the wrong decision. I should have pressed the point. I should have danced.
It is so beautiful. So graceful, so strong, so exquisite. Darlings, I love it. And I love dancers. And, frankly, who wouldn't dance 14 hours a day for 14 years to get an arse and legs like these...

But I left my run a little too late.
So I guess there are a few lessons to take away from this. Firstly, let your children experience everything you can - you might just let them catch their passion in time to do something about. Secondly, life is full of missed opportunities, so make the most of the ones you take.
And thirdly, I would totally be one of those pushy stage mums you see in films like Centre Stage. You know the one who's daughter drops out of ballet school before the big final performance because she never really wanted to dance, it was her mum's dream all along... not hers?
Yeah. That's me.

Omigod omigod omigod!

I belong to a generation for whom even the first few notes of the theme music chill and excite. They transport us back to a time when only two agents knew the truth and battled those who didn't believe, and those who chose to hide it. A generation of boys for whom Gillian Anderson is still something of an unfinished wet dream.
A generation of 20-somethings for whom THIS TRAILER is either a chance to revisit something great, or to have a our teen memories destroyed.
Fuckin BRING IT ON.
I Want To Believe the new X Files movie will rock.

An encounter with the Minister who needs only one name

Alannah: Now can I talk to you about the Northbridge Link, which you seem to be obsessed with. Honestly you're like (West Chief Reporter) Mark Drummond, scoop dooby doo.
Me: Well thank you Alannah, I'll take that as a great compliment.
Alannah: Oh... um... well it wasn't meant as one.

She gets more hilarious with each encounter. The other day she asked where "that nice Giovanni" was. I said he was covering Police. She asked if that was "more ethnic stereotyping" from the editor.

Usually I'm very proper on the phone to her but today I thought, fuck it. I'm going to fight back. So when she accused me of not "writing the right kinds of stories" I said "I didn't know you went to the same school as Jim McGinty".

She laughed.

It was a good day.

DO NOT watch this at work.

I don't just mean on mute. Seriously. Watch it at home. Leave the kids outside. Prepare to piss yourself.

Use Of 'N-Word' May End Porn Star's Career
That was a fair warning. Did you listen?
Have you been sacked?

Rock-it Man!

Disappointed this doesn't have the actual animation.

Hold me closer, Tiny Mincer

I'm not as eloquent as Johnsy when it comes to reviewing gigs I've been to, but I'm going to try.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
(Told you).
Last night I joined a few thousand people in the rain to watch a man sit at a piano and sing a shitload of songs from the soundtrack to my life.
Elton.

I'm so glad I did. I took Michael, one of my oldest mates, and we made a night of it. I loved every minute.
He opened, after an intro piece, with The Bitch is Back, which has never really been one of my favourites. The first song to really give me that "OhmyfuckingGodI'mwatchingEltonJohn" feeling was Tiny Dancer (Hold me closer, Tony Danza). Great track. The crowd went spastic.
Then after a couple of new tracks no one got excited about, he rolled through Daniel, Honky Cat, Rocket Man, Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting, Candle In The Wind, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Bennie and the Jets, Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me, Philadelphia Freedom, Someone Saved My Life Tonight, I'm Still Standing, I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues, Sacrifice, Crocodile Rock and his second and farewell encore, Your Song.
Well Daniel has, for obvious reasons, always been a song close to my heart. When I was a kid I asked my Mum if there were any songs with my name in it... from memory after hearing The Beatles' Hey Jude. We were in the car park at Midland Gate in her old bright green Gemini. She mentioned Elton John's Daniel. About 20 minutes later it must have come on the radio and I've loved the big homo ever since. When he sang it last night I was like six years old again and back in that car park in Midland.
Rocket Man fills me with visions flitting between Apollo 13 and Stewie from Family Guy's hilarious spoken-word rendition of the song. It's probably on YouTube if you haven't seen it.
Candle In The Wind was a very special moment... cigarette lighters up and waving everywhere. A crowd of thousands singing long is a remarkable thing to hear.
And finally, Your Song, what a brilliant encore. Michael and I had been waiting for hours for that moment. It was a spectacular ending to a concert which was right up there as one of my top concerts of all time. Right up there with Tori Amos last year for sheer spectacular musical experiences. Honestly, I could have died last night and died happy.
Michael and I have for nearly a decade had an agreement that when I hit 40 we're flying to New York, hiring a car, and driving across the USA and pitching ourselves into the Grand Canyon. I turned to him after Your Song last night and said, "shall we just go now?".
LOL.
Truly, truly fantastic.
Thank you Sir Elton, you did not let me down. I still feel warm inside.

I'm gay, I know, I'm really gay, but it does not alter the fact...

...that this is the best album I have heard come out from anyone anywhere in years. Kylie, you're a freakin princess. I love you.

Whereas...

...this is utter gutter shite.
I can't believe it. I had just finished telling Thom Madonna had NEVER let me down in a career as long as my life. I used to dance around the living room to Holiday for crying out loud (with the girls from the neighbouring town, mind you... how did they not know?) when we popped this in the player. Oh. My. God.
I cried. Not just because she's got her vagina on the cover again (you're 49 now love, even the Confessions cover was pushing it) but because the tracks are truly, incredibly, disappointingly, ordinary.
Beyond ordinary.
Utter. Gutter. Shite.
I will still, however, pay absolutely anything and trample mincey faggots underfoot to get a ticket to one of her (four only) Australian concerts later this year.

I heart Alannah

Anyone reading this blog who knows anything about WA politics would know there is one politician above all who has a reputation for getting things done - the Train Tsarina who much like Madonna or Cher, only needs one name: Alannah.
Now because this is public and I deal with her on an almost daily basis, I obviously won't comment on anything to do with Alannah the person, the Minister, the State Builder.
But I would like to crow a little. You see, I have written more about the Perth Waterfront Project than any other reporter. It's my pet issue. I'm very close to it. I'm very deliberately and in a very calculated way, attempting to lead the charge on Waterfront reportage. I've kept the issue alive for three months. I'm slightly obsessed with it.
It is, of course, despite the Premier being the one who made the original announcement, Alannah's baby.
What has thrilled me to the back teeth has been the last two press conferences. One a couple of weeks ago and one yesterday. You see, the way it works is the Minister fronts up to the cameras and makes her statement on the latest developments, then the journos begin asking questions. Firstly, for the last decade I have always been crippled with nerves at press conferences, but not these last two. I know the issue too well. I know what to ask. I'm confident and it feels great.
Secondly, while other journos are there and while of course they ask questions (I'm not an egomaniac... well not to that degree at least), I easily ask the most questions, I like to think I ask the best questions, and... the second the Minister has finished answering a question she looks to me for the next one. Directly at me. It's great. I love it.
I guess the point of this post is that, despite what I've said below about being depressed and hating the workload and the hours and so on, I'm beginning to feel for the first time like I might actually be able to do a good job here. I'm getting across my issues and I'm getting comfortable. And I love it.
But just for the record, I don't pretend the Minister and I have any kind of special relationship. I should point out she'll still rib me or rip into me if she feels like it.
Which, as any reporter in WA will tell you, is almost even more rewarding.