...Stephen Fry. He's such a sweetheart:
I finally know now, as I easily knew then, that the most important thing is love. It doesn't matter in the slightest whether that love is for someone of your own sex or not. Gay issues are important and I shall come to them in a moment, but they shrivel like a salted snail when compared to the towering question of love. Gay people sometimes believe (to this very day, would you credit it, young Stephen?) that the preponderance of obstacles and terrors they encounter in their lives and relationships is intimately connected with the fact of their being gay. As it happens at least 90% of their problems are to do with love and love alone: the lack of it, the denial of it, the inequality of it, the missed reciprocity in it, the horrors and heartaches of it. Love cold, love hot, love fresh, love stale, love scorned, love missed, love denied, love betrayed ... the great joke of sexuality is that these problems bedevil straight people just as much as gay. The 10% of extra suffering and complexity that uniquely confronts the gay person is certainly not incidental or trifling, but it must be understood that love comes first. This is tough for straight people to work out.
This is the whole article. I wish he were my friend. Apart from just on Twitter, I mean.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Epic fail
"If you're going to fail, you may as well do so in epic proportions."
I had been doing so well. Sort of.
Actually, that's a lie; I hadn't been doing that well really, seeing as how I'm the type of person who, rather than avoid temptation, will run towards it with a manic look in my eye and hump it, before giving in to it. Mr B had been doing ok though. We stayed at each other's places twice before the inevitable happened. Mostly thanks to him being good, not me. I just don't really understand the concept of denying myself things. Chocolate, alcohol, sex... if I want it, I usually just go and have it if I can. I'm rubbish at looking at the bigger picture, you see.
It had all been getting a bit bogged down Mr B wise again anyway - spending too much time together than was healthy. It started with deciding to write something together and we put aside a couple of Sundays to have a roast dinner and a brainstorm. Then, as you do, the more you see someone the more plans you tend to make for other days. Started seeing plays in the midweek, going out with mutual friends on Saturdays, and before you know it you're putting yourself in a situation where it seems rude NOT to say "Well, you could stay at mine of course." And that way madness lies. Either lying next to each other straight as rulers, very aware of any bit of skin that might be touching or cuddled up because lets face it; we have been spending nights in each others beds for over a year now and most of those nights were spent wound round each other.
But I have a fresh resolution! It's a good 'un too. As of this Saturday I'll have a great excuse for a new start - moving into the new flat with two of my lovely friends, both of whom I've lived with before - Bulgarian girl previously of my current abode, and Tee who I bonded with in the big old house about British comedy (Green Wing especially), illegally downloaded American series and fury at the scabby other housemates. So new place, new me!
I decided I need a project to remove myself from the current repetitive spiral of entanglement and extraction from Mr B so I may well crack on with the writing and not really get him involved unless he actually does something (like putting pen to paper) and also am thinking about joining a gym as the new flat is going to be a million times closer to work so I can walk to work and do some additional work in the gym!
So yes - I have had a bit of a history repeating type FAIL, but I now have a plan in place to stop it from happening again. Which is completely foolproof, obviously.
(This week I'm reading a brill new book - Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke is all about magicians in the 1800s. I recommend!)
I had been doing so well. Sort of.
Actually, that's a lie; I hadn't been doing that well really, seeing as how I'm the type of person who, rather than avoid temptation, will run towards it with a manic look in my eye and hump it, before giving in to it. Mr B had been doing ok though. We stayed at each other's places twice before the inevitable happened. Mostly thanks to him being good, not me. I just don't really understand the concept of denying myself things. Chocolate, alcohol, sex... if I want it, I usually just go and have it if I can. I'm rubbish at looking at the bigger picture, you see.
It had all been getting a bit bogged down Mr B wise again anyway - spending too much time together than was healthy. It started with deciding to write something together and we put aside a couple of Sundays to have a roast dinner and a brainstorm. Then, as you do, the more you see someone the more plans you tend to make for other days. Started seeing plays in the midweek, going out with mutual friends on Saturdays, and before you know it you're putting yourself in a situation where it seems rude NOT to say "Well, you could stay at mine of course." And that way madness lies. Either lying next to each other straight as rulers, very aware of any bit of skin that might be touching or cuddled up because lets face it; we have been spending nights in each others beds for over a year now and most of those nights were spent wound round each other.
But I have a fresh resolution! It's a good 'un too. As of this Saturday I'll have a great excuse for a new start - moving into the new flat with two of my lovely friends, both of whom I've lived with before - Bulgarian girl previously of my current abode, and Tee who I bonded with in the big old house about British comedy (Green Wing especially), illegally downloaded American series and fury at the scabby other housemates. So new place, new me!
I decided I need a project to remove myself from the current repetitive spiral of entanglement and extraction from Mr B so I may well crack on with the writing and not really get him involved unless he actually does something (like putting pen to paper) and also am thinking about joining a gym as the new flat is going to be a million times closer to work so I can walk to work and do some additional work in the gym!
So yes - I have had a bit of a history repeating type FAIL, but I now have a plan in place to stop it from happening again. Which is completely foolproof, obviously.
(This week I'm reading a brill new book - Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke is all about magicians in the 1800s. I recommend!)
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Absconding to Twitter...
The title of this post is my half arsed excuse as to why posts have been quite so thin on the ground lately. About a week and a half ago I joined Twitter and wondered what the point was. Then yesterday it clunked into place and suddenly I realised it was just micro-blogging... and you can do it on the move!
Another reason for the lack of posts is the fact that everything has gone crazy mad in the last couple weeks. In no particular order:
- Of the two housemates I live with now, one owns the flat (the landlord who is a guy) and the other (the Bulgarian girl) who is a lodger like me, the landlord gave the Bulgarian her notice last Saturday. In two minutes. Then ran out the door.
- I spent a fantastic afternoon and evening with the gorgeous Jen Star, joined by some other lovely people including the until recently banished Mr B. Having not seen him for about six weeks, we have a lot to catch up on and ended up speaking on the phone for two hours after leaving the evening's festivities.
- I told the landlord I live with that I'd be moving out with the Bulgarian he'd just kicked out at the end of her notice period in the most cordial way possible. He took it ok.
- Had a huge row with the Kiwi in a drunken and ridiculous manner on the phone whilst walking home in the dawn light.
- Found that the landlord had locked me and the Bulgarian out of our flat all night by bolting the door from the inside, I responded by collapsing in a snotty crying panicking heap on my doorstep after ringing the bell and banging on the door. My poor neighbor (this was about half 7 on a sunday morning) came to my rescue, inviting me in and offering me tea and calming me down enough for me to figure out that I should call the Kiwi (who I'd been shouting at until about half hour beforehand) and head to his place in Brixton. Half way there, the landlord calls me. I get off the bus and walk the half an hour all the way back to my flat. He says his key broke in the lock. He thought we girls were in. He didn't think to text us. He would have felt weird looking in our rooms. He was really drunk.
I shouted at him (a lot) about how scary it is to be a girl walking around London at night and how stupid he was before collapsing in my bed at 10am.
- I gave my notice to my idiot landlord.
- I had lunch with Mr B after which he sent me a text saying "I'm so happy we're hanging out. You're awesome! :) (!End of the world!). This refers to the fact he used a smiley face in a text - he is completely allergic. I just thought he meant the text was for someone else...
- Me, my girl flatmate and my old house mate from the last place found a new flat with three bedrooms to move into in Kennington. We move in on 25th April.
- The Bulgarian and the landlord have a massive fight when I'm out at work and she leaves after four days notice instead of two weeks as planned. We still move in together after she returns from a visit home on May 5th. I miss her snoozing on the sofa and our married couple behaviour and can't wait to be in a friendly girly flat.
That's about the size of it. If you're on Twitter, let me know!
Another reason for the lack of posts is the fact that everything has gone crazy mad in the last couple weeks. In no particular order:
- Of the two housemates I live with now, one owns the flat (the landlord who is a guy) and the other (the Bulgarian girl) who is a lodger like me, the landlord gave the Bulgarian her notice last Saturday. In two minutes. Then ran out the door.
- I spent a fantastic afternoon and evening with the gorgeous Jen Star, joined by some other lovely people including the until recently banished Mr B. Having not seen him for about six weeks, we have a lot to catch up on and ended up speaking on the phone for two hours after leaving the evening's festivities.
- I told the landlord I live with that I'd be moving out with the Bulgarian he'd just kicked out at the end of her notice period in the most cordial way possible. He took it ok.
- Had a huge row with the Kiwi in a drunken and ridiculous manner on the phone whilst walking home in the dawn light.
- Found that the landlord had locked me and the Bulgarian out of our flat all night by bolting the door from the inside, I responded by collapsing in a snotty crying panicking heap on my doorstep after ringing the bell and banging on the door. My poor neighbor (this was about half 7 on a sunday morning) came to my rescue, inviting me in and offering me tea and calming me down enough for me to figure out that I should call the Kiwi (who I'd been shouting at until about half hour beforehand) and head to his place in Brixton. Half way there, the landlord calls me. I get off the bus and walk the half an hour all the way back to my flat. He says his key broke in the lock. He thought we girls were in. He didn't think to text us. He would have felt weird looking in our rooms. He was really drunk.
I shouted at him (a lot) about how scary it is to be a girl walking around London at night and how stupid he was before collapsing in my bed at 10am.
- I gave my notice to my idiot landlord.
- I had lunch with Mr B after which he sent me a text saying "I'm so happy we're hanging out. You're awesome! :) (!End of the world!). This refers to the fact he used a smiley face in a text - he is completely allergic. I just thought he meant the text was for someone else...
- Me, my girl flatmate and my old house mate from the last place found a new flat with three bedrooms to move into in Kennington. We move in on 25th April.
- The Bulgarian and the landlord have a massive fight when I'm out at work and she leaves after four days notice instead of two weeks as planned. We still move in together after she returns from a visit home on May 5th. I miss her snoozing on the sofa and our married couple behaviour and can't wait to be in a friendly girly flat.
That's about the size of it. If you're on Twitter, let me know!
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