Modern life well it’s rubbish

Of course all of this perrenial lolling in baths of breastmilk drinking Long island iced teas, self-gazing and self reflection in deco mirrors (I’ve had to keep wiping the steam off to see my glorious reflection through the frosted palm trees) has its downside. Naturally one cannot look past the genetic physiology, that is, inferences of a less than aristocratic ancestry, hints of peasant blood, big hands and a broad flat back for logging barefoot donkeys 60 miles to the lumbermill in St Petersburg (or where have you), child bearing hips for the production of cheap labour, etc. This I suppose accounts for a secret and perverse fascination with working class louts. I once had the unfortunate experience of meeting my distant cousins at the funeral of a dear old Loved One. Third cousin John was wearing that shade of blue denim so particular to people who run up massive lay-buys at Target, and would tell me again and again how he had “worked at the railway” for thirty years; fourth cousin S- J- B- (same initials as myself) who shall take the non de plume of Jack The Ripper, had, I knew quite well, been in juvy (the Loved One told me: before he died of course: I do not mean to suggest any definite link between his death and Jack the Ripper). In any case Jack the Ripper was more than willing to show me some very affectionate and sexual miscreant-like condolences as I wept by the graveside, this despite our acquaintance going back less than 20 minutes.  There was one particular moment when I actually considered pushing him off me and into the grave, but then I didn’t want to risk the coffin cracking open and me having to regret the awful suit I had picked out for the Loved One (the same one he wore at my parent’s wedding, apparently.)

THE POINT BEING, all of this idling in stunning art deco decadence like a cocaine queen in Miami has its downside, and as it is now raining outisde after three days of suffocating tropical climate, and me truly suffering in my Gatsby pool for all of that time, it has suddenly occurred to me I belong in more Arctic climes, 5 foot deep in black black mud, morbid Irish-Catholic conscience telling you that you can’t contemplate anything other than said black black mud as the point of all life is to suffer, and the oddly consoling death-like baas of sheep as they warn me away from their spawn, and a gauntlet glove so that I can pursue my one abiding passion, that is, falconry.

You can always judge people by their shoes.

Oh, I forgot I was telling you about the awful people I know. I suppose I should avoid generalities but that is hard for me since if get specific I run a real risk of NAMING PEOPLE (should I…? Let’s have a vote.) For the moment let’s just make sweeping statements.

If you expose yourself to the horrors of society long enough, eventually you will realise that people are all the same. No matter what scene or circle or sphere or sub culture (or what have you) you are in you will start to meet the same people over and over again. This is because, despite what Sesame Street and your mum or your high school self esteem workshop will tell you, YOU ARE NOT AN INDIVIDUAL. YOU ARE NOT UNIQUE. YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL. And – best of all – YOU ARE NOT IRREPLACEABLE.

In fact if you go along long enough eventually you will meet someone who is exactly like you. Most people are too dumb to realise. Or too wrapped up in their misguided sense of self-worth. In this case they will automatically hate on sight their double. In the other case you can have a wonderfully passionate relationship that is basically akin to masturbation (the mutual self appreciation society) since really you’re getting turned on by yourself. These relationships will always end in tears since you will both be self-obsessed and have no consideration for the other person, and be annoyed because they show you no consideration. Too bad.  Otherwise it will just get really boring.

But if you go on a bit longer you’ll meet someone who is not like you at all. This is better. In the main because the person who is not like you will think everything you do is incredibly wonderful and marvellous and amazing (or is this just me?) precisely because it would never enter their head to do what you do. Anyway this is the best kind of relationship for a sweet and charming girl such as I because you get to bully this person as much as you like and they will thank you for it. You can get them super drunk and send them back to their girlfriend the next day with a massive hand print on their arse. But it is not at all a one-way relationship. In this case you can fall in love with the reflection of yourself in their eyes and go to some effort to be caring in order to keep the reflection there.  This is the general case when they say (whoever “they”are) opposites attract. People forget that your mirror image looks identical but actually it is opposite. When it doesn’t work don’t despair. Remember that nobody is unique. You’ll meet the same person again. It is a weird fact that all of the boys I’ve ever loved (allllllllllllthreeeeeeeeeeeofthemmmm) have looked the same and ended by hating me in the same way, except that the last one would rather fake his own death than go out with me, so he gets a few more points for invention.

Other than that. It is safe to say that you can always judge a person by their shoes. Shoes never lie. Write this down.


I have so many friends, none of whom actually like me.

From experience you can sit at home and not meet anyone; or you can go out and meet people, and provided you apply yourself to this form of masochism over a period of time you will meet more and more people, and in time you will have met so many people you may find yourself wishing that you had stuck at home alone by yourself afterall. If of course you have a glorious home filled with riches such as I do this last won’t be such a stretch for you. I have six bathrooms, one is tarted up like the red bathroom in Graceland, one is original (with Palm trees on the walls) and one has a puzzle of black-and-white tiles so I can pose topless in front of the full floor-to-ceiling vanity mirror like a Beardsley character.

I know so many people; they are so unfailingly awful

I have of late been conducting a social experiment; I will draw the line and not call it an ‘interesting’ social experiment because it has not been terribly interesting but rather had the effect of confirming all of my worst suspicions re: the human race. It would be too too easy for me to lock myself up (like Mother) in my gorgeous house (pictures will be in next post) and slumber in the old baths of breastmilk waiting for the day I return to the dust from whence I came while my peacock (Sebastian) walks around making pointed and cynical remarks (he is good at that). But instead I have followed some rather naff advice and that is “to be open to more people” only to discover that “people” are predominantly boring and annoying, if not stupid or – worse – stupid AND arseholes. (Often the arseholism is compounded by the stupidity, or a direct result of it.) But it is not enough to simply tell you that, I should explain.

Well of course you know already I lead a very glamourous life & work in the theatre (for laughs) I have been told many times that hard work gives you a sense of purpose, though perhaps I don’t work quite hard enough to have achieved the purpose yet, but I digress.  I have encountered a lot of acting giants (they are always short).

In any case I finish up late at night and this I find helps me to avoid the general populace, and nighttime has a nice way of reducing things to much clearer elementals, so: black, black (or blue-black) and lights (and colours) contained within a sort of limited sphere that makes the colours fall back on themselves and look brighter than they would in the day, so you see: pink-light, white-light, yellow-light, greenish-light that brings out the warmth in whatever colour is nearby, and everything else is just blue-black because it doesn’t count unless there’s a light on it. I suppose this might be what the world looks like to dogs all of the time.

Anyway you can distil it further, like Beardsley: he worked in blocks of black & white which has the effect of making everything ordered and clear; flat, no dimensions, and infact the people always look transparent, but very clean, and then you can see they always have cruel expressions on their faces. Aubrey Beardsley as any fool knows had a very dirty mind; he never missed a trick (in his pictures that is; he probably died a virgin). It’s incredible what got past his publishers: they wanted Salome’s attendant covered up but never noticed the candlesticks or the fact Salome’s servant with the fetus head can’t get it under control. Meantime Oscar Wilde sits in the corner pointing right at it, and the naked boy servant isn’t interested in Salome at all (his mask is looking at Oscar).

That is all very well but incase you were thinking I was about introduce you to a kind of inverted world of decadent nighttime revelry let me reiterate; people are predominantly  boring and annoying, and also stupid.  The problem is that most people are too stupid to realise that they are boring & annoying so instead of a nighttime full of glorious inverts and strange creatures you just get the boring & annoying people, drunk, which makes them even more boring & annoying, though of course they think they are really hilarious and having oh such a marvellous time, when in fact the alcohol just brings out the sublimated toddler (rolling around and pissing everywhere) / humping terrier instincts / warlords punching on in Hungry Jacks and getting blood on their gross neon t-shirts. I can’t tell you how sick this makes me (the neon t-shirts, that is; I hope they kill each other). Also bogans and “normal” people will invariably have very rosy clean shaved faces that extend up onto their heads just to make sure they look as much like Beardsley’s fetus-people as possible (you’ll see it). And of course nothing is more gross and disgusting than a fetus when you look at it, especially since certain people are adamant that they are perfectly human, or at least have the potential to be.