Monthly archive: July 2002

According to Which PowerPuff Girl is your blog?, Bitful is Blossom. Fun questions, lame result though. I want to be Buttercup. Everybody wants to be Buttercup.

First excellent laugh of the day: having Bitful translated by Google into Italian! Here are some extracts, conveniently (and manually) translated back into English:

• Sound bits => Healthy spikes
• Note to self => Note to the car
• Oh well => The water well of "oh"
• Just wear some poppers => The right poppers to deterioration
• Link => Observations (???)
• And I guess this post answers Jonathan's question => And I foresee s' question of the small tree Jonathan of answers.

I used to worry about people in Italy somehow finding me on the web, putting this page through Google's website translator and finding out so much more about me than I'm willing to disclose to them. Now I worry that if they do that, they'll think I've lost my marbles completely.

Why do people bareback? While bearing no judgement whatsoever, I cannot subscribe to it but I keep trying to understand the reasons behind all the unprotected sex I witnessed on Saturday night.

Why is it that my supposedly Italian complexion got slightly burned after one and a half hours in Brocknell park? And that my Italian mother can't cook to save her life? So much for national stereotypes.

Why is it that I cannot get round to getting in touch with a good friend of mine in the US who's just discovered she might have cancer? I need to look her in the eye and tell her that everything is going to be OK, and hug her so hard that she'll feel I'm there with her, I can't just send an email or call her – and yet I know that's all I can do for now.

Why didn't drinks affect me yesterday at the RVT, and I kept dancing and dancing and smiling and sweating as if I was on E (no, even more so than if I were on E), and then went for a meal and got home and felt absolutely OK and went to bed – only to wake up at 3am felling completely and utterly drunk and sick? One of these days I'm going to donate my body to science.

And why is it that every time I'm winning a bid on Ebay someone (who had not taken part in the auction all along) comes in at the very last minute and outbids me? Even when I check the auction during the closing minutes, I could never manage to bid again so quickly with my pre-historical modem connection.

Note to self #4412: do not drink and blog.

I'm getting ready to go to Fist (if you're not familiar with the London scene, I meant "go to Fist" as in "go to the monthly club named Fist, not "go and Fist, although, now that I think of it… oh well) and, being as usual a very diligent pupil, I've been doing some research on the interhighweb. Well, according to this page, I've been wearing my leather wristband on the wrong side all along – it's a small wonder that I had so many priceless embarassing moments in bed ("Turn around baby" – "No, you turn around" – "No, you do" – "No, you do, and get your finger out my butt NOW!")
I am such a leather rookie.
And I guess this post answers Jonathan's question.

Everybody's talking about it, so I won't say anything more than "go see Minority Report". You'll hate it, you'll love it, I don't think you'll be bored though. I usually shuffle in my seat (and take off my shoes, and play with my chewing-gum and eventually even fall asleep) with most movies lasting more than 90 minutes, due to an extremely short attention span, but yesterday I was glued to the screen for the best part of two and a half hours, leaning forward, completely fascinated by the story, ideas and images. Plus, thanks to Francis (even though he has different views on the film), I could even get the subtle reference of the Swedish nurse singing "Små grodorna" and appropriately substituting the word "eyes" to "ears". The only unconvincing note in it was Tom Cruise, I was never a great fan and I have not been converted last night at the movie theatre. Still, it was better to have him in it than Keanu Reeves. Now, Harrison Ford would have been great in it, but then again the title would have to be changed to Blade Runner II.

I can't understand why I feel so tired and sleepy today, there's no reason really. I think it all started when I was bitten by something at the museum this morning. So I took a nap in the afternoon, and when I woke up I looked like this.

I've been wondering for a couple of days about what to wear to Fist tomorrow night; fortunately G. has just come up with the perfect idea: "just wear poppers and a smile" (and you get 3 quid off too!).

This is starting to sound a bit like "Bitful's Arts Week", for I seem to concentrate on catching up with everything I've missed recently.
So, Spider-Man – the movie yesterday. Not impressed. At all. I expected it to be much, much more spectacular, with an convoluted storyline and a proper evil villain. None of that for me unfortunately. Tobey Maguire OK, lovely blue eyes with a tendency to gush out copious tears a bit too unconvincingly for my tastes. And Kirsten Dunst, well she's going to have a hard time with me trying to get out of her role as bloodsucking toddler Claudia in Interview With A Vampire. I'm afraid that image has spoiled what I've heard is the sexiest scene in the movie, namely the upside-down kiss with her half-unmasked hero, as I was secretly hoping Kirsten would unexpectedly grow those fangs back.

The Gilbert and George exhibition yesterday was brilliant, a true delight for anyone who is fascinated by London and its contrasts and contradictions. It made me want to find out more about the artists (I only knew that one of them is originally from Italy, and something about some of their artistic views being labelled as right-wing). You may find out more here or read their interview with The Guardian. Go see. It's free. No excuses.

After the exhibition we stopped to have a look at the recently cleaned-up Albert Memorial. From a distance (and seeing it from the side) the statue struck me because of Albert's hunching and looking down in his lap (apparently queen Victoria always had the curtains drawn when she passed the memorial in her carriage, for she could not bear looking at it), then when close to it I was amazed at the pompousness and lavish intricate decorations, which I can't remember seeing before (I think it had been surrounded by scaffolding all the time while I was living in London).

I was winning the auction but during the last 30 seconds the next best bidder came in and bought the cellphone at the "buy now" price. Bastard.
Having loads of fun – nevertheless, I hope my tendency to addiction will not hit online auctions now – I don't think I could afford the habit.

I'm getting a new mobile phone, and this time I'm afraid it won't be a Nokia. The display on my old 8210 started getting scrambled, then I could only see anything on it if I pressed hard on the top part of the handset, and now it's just died. I have a 6150 that the company I used to work with just left me when it went bust (along with a few months' worth of salary as severance pay), and now it's on its "I'll work if you punch my top" phase. Apparently it's a very common fault in certain models by Nokia, and the company itself has aknowledged it but tried to play the problem down.
I started looking around eBay and I might get a cheap second hand Ericsson t28s – I've always liked the design, and I usually go for small handsets. Quite excited about the bidding, surprisingly it's the first time I buy something there (in the past I was always put off by the extremely unreliable Italian post system, where a letter can take anything from one day to over a week to make its journey across the country).

Failed to feel proud at Pride, failed to get drunk in Soho, failed to crash at crAsh – but an entirely satisfactory (long) Mardi Gras anyway.

Looking very much forward to going and see the Gilbert and George exhibition with Y. tomorrow.

Just back from the Mardi Gras Pride Parade. There is a limit to how many times you can possibly listen to Kylie's Can't Get You Out Of My Mind within the space of two hours. Not many people, they were probably still at the gym or at the hairdresser's to look their best at the Hackney Marshes festivities and in the clubs tonight.

Last year I had bought a new pair of Diesel's sunglasses especially to go to the Gay Pride in Milan. This year I haven't even bothered to shave. It's good to be back here.

More "girlie" activities yesterday, as my friend G needed my help on the purchase of a new pair of jeans and trainers (completely unrelated to Mardi Gras, he says, but I bet he'll be wearing them today) and I took him to about 20-odd shops. G hates shopping, I don't mind it, and I give out honest and direct (but tactful) advice. Perhaps I should just try and choose alternative, more manly ways of saying "ooh, these really compliment you in the crotch and bum department" when in communal changing rooms.
We did the whole "girls hit town" routine, complete with nice break at Starbuck$ for a smoothie, a visit at the tanning salon (he did, you ain't gonna see me in one of those turbo 15-minutes things) and a stop at Clone Zone to get advance tickets to tonight's Combat Party at Crash.

My landlady's father just gave a new fresh summer look to the backyard. I'm seriously thinking of wrapping the tree in a leather harness and piercing some leaves to match the lawn's #1 crop – really, I'd do anything to stop thinking of tonight's date with teenage anticipation.

Me heart Trabby's new design.

Last night I realized that my ex-boyfriend's birthday is in 5 days. Now, considering that I have not been in touch with him for 5 years (after a rough split-up) and that we had been together for 5 years, I thought it's about time I drop him a line. Then this morning I came across Francis S.' post about Swedish intakes of breath, and the first night I spent with him (the Icelandic ex, not Francis) came back to me in all its splendor – and embarassment. As Francis points out, Scandinavian, or rather Nordic languages (for Iceland is not geographically in Scandinavia) characteristically use a strong intake of breath as an affirmation. The word for "yes" in Icelandic is "já" (pronounced "hyao" while sucking your breath in loudly as if gasping for air during a a stroke); he uttered that sound a lot during our first night together and – excuse me if I'm thick – I could not possibly imagine it meant "yes". The following morning I sneaked a look at his Icelandic-English dictionary for anything resembling that adorable manly grunt, and the closest thing I could find was "hjá" (the breath-sucking was so strong that I was convinced the word started with an "h") – which actually means "near" or "beside" something or someone. Near? I was quite puzzled and started wondering if I had not precisely hit his sensitive spots, although his reactions were showing quite the opposite. Perhaps it's now time I told him this and hopefully we'll have a good laugh at it for old times' sake.

Has anyone heard about I Should Be So Lucky, supposedly some sort of a Mamma Mia-like musical extravaganza built around the hits of La Minogue? I remember using this poster from the production for a short while as my desktop wallpaper late last year, but all I could find about it now was this page with broken links. I bet it was a huge success when it opened in Melbourne, as announced, as part of the gay Midsumma Festival in January (hey wait: Midsumma? January? Aw right, thats down under).

There seems to be an ongoing discussion involving a few of the blogs I regularly read about the significance of Gay Pride / Mardi Gras festivities. During this current build-up to Mardi Gras I am overwhelmed with images from the first time I attended (London, 1991) and what it meant to me, namely the guts to be out there in the street as I am and the consequent relief in seeing hundreds of people like me but at the same time completely different in tastes, attitude and beliefs. I experienced for the very first time the true meaning of the phrase It's OK to be yourself, and it was much more powerful of the equally appealing It's OK to be gay. This is why I have moved back to London. This is why I will be definitely attending the Mardi Gras Pride Parade (assembly at Hyde Park Corner at 11am on the morning of Saturday 6th July, with the parade kicking off at midday), and I wish for it to be as varied and crowded as it can possibly be.
I have made tentative plans with friends to join them after the parade to spend the late afternoon/early evening in Soho, rather than going to the park, but I suppose I'll improvise on the spur of the moment. Normally I am not too keen to be commercially exploited, but then again I often fall for it.

Just spoke to charming telephone operator with deep voice and sexy Scottish accent (I am quite partial to just a hint of a warm intonation from up north). I was completing my application for online banking and this man (Mark? Carl? of course I can't remember his name) was asking me personal questions just to prove my identity, and it all felt quite intimate. I was expecting (hoping?) the conversation to slide along the lines of "One more question sir, in order for me to process your application successfully I will need to know if you are a top or a bottom please", but then I remembered this and kept it all very professional. I suppose I'll call my bank frequently from now on – it's toll-free anyway.

Some thoughts after spending last night watching a bit of telly.

Up: Morten Harket at V Graham Norton.

I never liked him much back in the 80's, but he seems to have aged well. A bit too well for someone who's going on 43.

Down: Peter Krause's new look in Six Feet Under (first season being shown here in the UK at the moment).

Grow the beard back, please. And ditch the suit while you're at it, hon.

Scatterbrain. I am an absolute scatterbrain (and a scatterheart too, judging from the past couple of weeks' series of events). I was meant to continue jobhunting today, but then I remembered that David last night told me the comment box on this site is much too narrow when looked at on a Mac, so I started tackling that, but then I dropped it to upload some queer quotes I'd just been sent by a friend; I then took a break from that to check out not.so.soft where I found the link to the BlogAmp plugin to display on your blog what you're currently listening (on second thoughts, now the world will see I have a cheesy taste in music – and that I listen to my files alphabetically, ah well, I take responsibility for that). So I uploaded all of that (check right hand side column, scroll down if necessary) and apologies to all Mac users, but the comment box will still be under 20 pixels wide to you.

To think that it all started when I switched on my computer just to send some CV's…