Ill

Here I am again with a seriously dreadful head cold. I hate it. its so debilitating without being so serious that I actually need tot take antibiotics.

Spending a week in the flat is not my idea of a fun time of course, and at times like these I thank god that I have no poor partner to inflict my frustration upon - or maybe that's what they're for?

So forgive me please if I'm not keeping up to speed with writing.

Depeche Mode - Wrong HQ HD (Live at Echo Awards, Berlin)

Oscars

The Oscars have been given out and the media is full of the 8 wins for Slum Dog, and the best actress Oscar for Kate Winslet .... and then .... nothing.

Oh, sometimes in passing then the Oscar for best actor for Sean Penn in Milk is referred to but I have yet to hear his name in a headline.

and oh yes, Dustin Lance Black won best original screenplay for Milk too. His acceptance speech was short but oh so sweet.

"Oh my God. This was not an easy film to make. First off, I have to thank Cleve Jones and Anne Kronenberg and all the real-life people who shared their stories with me. And Gus Van Sant, Sean Penn, and our entire cast, my producers Dan Jinks and Bruce Cohen, everyone at Groundswell and Focus for taking on the challenge of telling this life-saving story.

When I was 13 years old, my beautiful mother and my father moved me from a conservative Mormon home in San Antonio, Texas to California, and I heard the story of Harvey Milk. And it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life. It gave me the hope one day I could live my life openly as who I am and then maybe even I could even fall in love and one day get married.

I wanna thank my mom, who has always loved me for who I am even when there was pressure not to. But most of all, if Harvey had not been taken from us 30 years ago, I think he'd want me to say to all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight who have been told that they are less than by their churches, by the government or by their families, that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value and that no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you and that very soon, I promise you, you will have equal rights federally, across this great nation of ours.

Thank you. Thank you. And thank you, God, for giving us Harvey Milk".

Roxy Music--Mother of Pearl

Ecstasy

www.wordle.net

Funerals, mine

I don't want anyone to panic, but I have been spending some time lately thinking about death, dying, and the practicalities of such.

It would be infinitely easier for all concerned if one gave a last gasp on one's death bed and then disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Or dust even. Glitter would be a nice option too.

No messy fluids, no deathly palor, well no body at all actually.

Because the point is, what on earth (forgive the pun) do I want to happen to my body after I've snuffed it?

Burial? Cremation? Recycling?

Starting with the last, I'm pretty sure that no-one will want bits of my body when I'm gone. Nothing will be of any use, except in a laboratory situation. I shudder at the thought that medical students would get to see even more of me after I'm dead than they do on a regular basis now.

Cremation? Scares the shite out of me to tell the truth. Just the thought of waking up in that shoddy coffin whilst the flames lick around my ankles is enough for me to break out in a cold sweat (no pun intended). Maybe I could just get skewered beforehand, like some huge shish kebab, so that everyone can see that I'm actually, really, well and truly dead before they fry me to a crisp.

Ashes in an Urn? It had better be bloody Faberge if I have to reside like some dehydrated genie in a bottle for the rest of eternity.

Burial? Brrrrrrr. Cold, damp, worm infested earth. Lying under the sod should really only appeal to the more innately morbid amongst us. Like the Scottish. Or the Fries.

So do I care? Not really. Just make sure I'm as dead as a door nail first before disposing of in an adult way and I'll be happy (or not if there's no afterlife).

P.S.

I would quite like a funeral please. Samuel Barber 'Adagio for strings' (and anyone who dares to play the Tiesto version I will personally come back and haunt). Delibes, 'Lakme' all that kind of stuff is good. Its moving and emotional and doesn't drown out the crying (forgive the pun).

There's Always a Woman - Carol Burnett / Ruthie Henshall

Its always the woman
The hand in the till
The five dollar diamond
The three dollar bill
A genius for trickery,
that's second to none
There's nothing as low as a woman
Isn't this fun?

Christina Aguilera - Beautiful

beautiful

Bugger the money

Yes I finally did it, I broke down, breached my own defenses, and, spent money on something I wanted but don't need ......

an iPhone

and I don't regret it one moment. (Almost).

Spending money is one of the things that still doesn't come easy to me after my relationship with Gerard. I was so used to him spending his (and more often my) money on ridiculous over the top 'stuff' that money became something tarnished, something to be frightened of, something to despise; filthy lucre.

Although I didn't know it at the time, I was the only one really paying any of the serious bills. There were several serious bills. A 2 week holiday in Crete that cost me 12.000 guilders, an afternoon in the P.C. Hooftstraat that cost me 6.000 guilders, etc, etc .... 

All the while being egged on by Gerard .... 

"I've paid enough this month, this one's for you"

"Just pay this for me will you, I'll put it back into the joint bank account later"

"I hate credit cards - use yours"

It should be easy for me to see which one of us couldn't handle money. After all, I am still here and relatively debt free, his was the personal bankruptcy.

But it was about power and control of course. The house was the ultimate weapon in his arsenal. The house was in my name with a mortgage so high I had nothing left of my salary after the monthly payments. Literally, nothing. I was financially in his power and in his eyes therefore totally under control. Then he stepped up the game when I started to fight back by mortgaging the house again and letting me sign for that too (he did this in total 4 times but without me finding out until after I'd left him). Financial debt that I would never be able to pay back on my own, therefore financially his prisoner.

What he'd failed to take into account however was my slowly blossoming self-awareness, my deep felt sadness, all leading to desperation.

Add to this his need to keep everything secret from me and it was a bomb that was bound to go off eventually. If he'd told em everything he'd done I might have been too scared to leave. I know that after I left and started to find out everything were some of the darkest in my life.

But I did leave, and I survived, and blossomed in my own way.

Time enough to let go the fears and sorrow of old pain.