audentes fortuna iuvat

Thumbing through some site or other I came across this picture and it reminded me of one of my favourite superheros as a child – The Green Arrow. This is clearly not your usual depiction of said hero, but is much more in keeping with my adult aesthetics. Lets face it, I have a recognised weakness for big blonds, and furry is seen as a plus.

The Green Arrow really didn't have super powers per say, but could do incredible things with arrows, and had arrows with amazing properties (shoot around corners, light, glue). The Arrow was also something of a social crusader, and that got my attention. As a member of the Justice League, he was an argumentative figure who often acted as the team's political conscience. He didn't have super foes, rather he usually fought corporate greed and injustice.

Interestingly the Arrow was teamed for a number of years with the Green Lantern – another of my favourites. There have been a number of people to hold the title of "Green Lantern" with each possessing a "power ring" that gives the user great control over the physical world as long as the wielder has sufficient willpower. While I don't have a power ring†, I get the feeling sometimes that my capacity to get things done is only limited by my will to do it.

The homoerotic implications of the Arrow / Lantern pairing was not lost on me, even as a child. I recall thinking how good they looked together and wondering whether they lived together. I really have never been anything other than a gay man, my brain is just wired to seeing guys together.

I am still trying to figure out which superhero I am, and Sue Storm isn't a good answer. Unfortunately the Lantern was a bit of a right wing republican and I find that all too hard to relate to, so he is no good. But whatever one I turn out to be, I think I would be hard pressed to find a better partner than the Green Arrow. Particularly if he looks like this.

† No comments from the peanut gallery please

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Tonight I was packing boxes.

Packing for a move to another city, another place, another job. Its time for something new, and I am excited about it. I have been throwing things out for the last few weeks in preparation of this possibility, or another possibility that has been on the horizon. And because I can be a bit of a pack rat.

Clothes, papers, books, bits and pieces of tech crap thats broken or outdated. Lots of junk has gone, mostly to charity – or recycling of some kind. Nice to put things back if I can.

So far I have packed my DVD's, CD's and tonight I was packing books. Amongst them are some that I am not sure what to do with.

It was 2001 James and I were trying to make a move to San Francisco happen. James' move was certain but mine was sill in the air. Plan A was looking shaky and so I was working a Plan B, namely to take an assignment with my then employer in London. How this was going to get me closer to San Francisco is a long story, just trust me that it seemed like a good idea.

I was really excited about going, but really not looking forward to being separated from James. As a way to cheer me up and help me focus on the posative, he bought me a book – Fodors Guide to London.

This is the book I found tonight.

I sat up in bed at night reading it, and reading the best bits out loud to James. I was so excited about going, there were so many things I wanted to see there. The book still has my notes in it and the red tabs on pages of interest. I am always so excited about travel, about the things I will see, the people I will meet, how the air will smell, how the food will taste. James was always much more cautious about travel. Will he be able to get breakfast cereal, will he be able to find away around, what if he gets lots, how do the phones work.

Very different approaches, and it tells you a lot about who we both are as people. One impulsive and daring, a dreamer; the other careful and sensible, a planner. Neither is right, neither is wrong. In truth the approaches are complimentary – if you can make the balance work, trust each other.

This book started something of a tradition for us. Whenever we were going somewhere, I would buy a book for James. A book to help him see, the excitement, the possibilities. They worked, a little. He became more adventurous for a while. For a while tonight I sat on the floor flipping through these travel books, remembering the excitement on his face when we talked about going places together – London, San Francisco, the Caribbean, Vancouver, Orlando. Very happy memories.

Flipping through the London book tonight, something fell out. A twenty dollar bill that had been pressed between the pages.

Another gift from James.

He worried about me, that something might go wrong or I might be in trouble – and so he put $20 into the book as emergency money. He is a very sweet man and he always watched out for me. He couldn't take care of me in London so he did little things like this to try and make sure I would be OK.

I am not a child, I been to more places, walked in more timezones than he has, and I can take care of myself. Rather than be insulted by his gesture, I was flattered. Here was this big, handsome, robust man telling me in his typically non verbal way that I was important to him, that he cared about me.

I am not sure if I should keep the books, or give them back to him. of who they really belong to. I guess thats because they are shared, belong to us. I have carefully packed them away for now, along with a number of other treasured memories, and someday I hope he and I can sit down and share the memories of what they mean.

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Searching, and looking for love this month are:

1. Jinn The Otter

The most famous antipodean animal has been flown to Christchurch's Willowbank Wildlife Reserve to meet five year-old male Jala. The celebrity wants to settle down and  raise otter cub, but she might not be keen on her chosen mate, as zoo-keepers say Jala "has been at the bottom of the pecking order" in his all-male group of otters so far.

2. Dutch Orangutans Zookeepers

Zookeepers in Holland are starting to match up their orangutans with ones in Indonesia over the internet. The animals can see each other online and, by pressing a button, can choose to show they like each other by giving each other food.

Ok there is a name for this, and its Gaydar. I think one of these Orangutangs have send me an "I like". 

3. Indian Businessman 

An unnamed Indian 24 year-old is having an operation to remove one of his two penises so he can try and have a normal sex life. Diphallus is a rare condition that means two separate functioning penises grow, and there are only 100 reported cases in the world (although its known to among one in 5.5 million men so a lot of men are keeping quiet about their spare dick.

I can sympathise. I have been in a situation where there was a spare dick hangining around, and it took some pretty drastic measures to get rid of it. 

Thanks to the Popbitch for the pointers. 

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Not my usually flamingly usless word this week, but one thats been on my mind.

devotion n
1.    profound dedication; consecration.
2.    earnest attachment to a cause, person, etc.
3.    an assignment or appropriation to any purpose, cause, etc.: the devotion of one's wealth and time to scientific advancement.
4.    Often, devotions. Ecclesiastical. religious observance or worship; a form of prayer or worship for special use.

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I saw my ex a day or so ago. We had coffee.

A little while ago I wrote that finally I could say that I didn't want him back, but seeing him made me doubt the truth of that statement. He is still the most beautiful man I have ever seen – I can say that knowing full well that its not objectively true, its a reflection of my feelings for him, and my understanding of who he is. Still he takes my breath away.

When I mentally stand back from the conversation with him, when I look at how I behave, how I interact, there is no question, I still love him.  It doesn't feel any less powerful today than it did 6 years ago when love was at the height of newness and passion. But there is no outlet for it, no way I can share that with him because he doesn't want to let me in.

So I pick up my bags, emotionally speaking, and put those feelings for him safely away in a corner. I keep on moving knowing full well that things are getting easier day by day, but that really healing from ever thing thats happened isn't going to happen suddenly.

Last night a friend asked me out to dinner with him and a number of other of his friends. We had dinner on Victoria St and then went to the Laird, which is the busy bar on a Friday night here in Melbourne. I chatted and socialise, It was pleasant, but unfulfilling. The bar was a little sad, with people standing around clearly trying to make some sort of connection but not having any success in doing so.

Dinner was nice, but I don't think the whole bar this is me – problem is, I am not completely sure who "me" is any more. Its not the bars. Certainly its not "Gaydar" or the other "dating" services. I am also not part of the extreme-sex-with-no-intimacy set – and let me tell you when you discount those three areas the dating opportunities here in Australia are very thin.

I guess the biggest challenge over the next year or so is to figure out who the me is I want to be. I am getting some ideas, but I was honestly left so shaken by the breakup its taking a while to establish it. At I am just trying to do the things I enjoy and letting the people who are naturally along side me be there. 

Meantime, should I be pretending that I am not missing him? Should I play the tough independent, or should I allow myself licence to admit  how I feel. Maybe Stacey Orrico has some advice. 

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I was up in Sydney a little while back. I was having breakfast at the Tropicanna when a handsome guy came in to by himself a coffee, presumably on the way to work. Tall, blond, thirtyish with wide shoulders and a solid back end on him, the kind of butt that implies great legs no matter what pants someone is wearing. He went out of his way to catch my eye and gave me the cheekiest smile. All in all, you couldn't ask for more to get my attention.

Once he had his coffee, he came over to my table and struck up a conversation – I think the line was "you're not from around here", but whatever he said in a few seconds he proved himself to be not only handsome but smart and funny. He was off to work and I was off to some meetings so he didn't stay long, but he did give me his number and asked for mine. He asked me if I would like to meet him for a coffee or a bite to eat before I went back to Melbourne.

I managed to restrain myself from saying HELL YES and mumbled something that skirted complete uncool.

The next couple of days were busy and not particularly conducive to socialising so, we didn't meet up. To be honest, while he was a stunner, a number of things that happened on the trip put him out of my mind. As a result on my last morning, when I got an SMS from him at 7 am (WTF!!), I grumpily ignored it. I figured I would see him another time.

As I was on the train on my way to the airport I got another message from him. This time it included the text – "what are you up to for the next two hours" along with a picture of his handsome, smiling face and quite a bit of naked torso.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!!! 

I messaged him that I was on my way to Mascot to catch my flight and that unless he felt like coming out there we were out of luck this time. There was a bit of a delay and then he messaged me "that aside – are you interested?". My response – "VERY". The next message got me a lump in my throat, not to mention my pants – "If you're on QF Blah Blah, your flights been delayed. On my way to the airport to meet you, see you in 20".

As I finished checking my bags in, I turned to see the sexy bugger sauntering through the crowds of grey and black clad business travellers in a low slung pair of chocolate puma trackies, and a bright t shirt. And either he wasn't wearing underwear or he was blessed in more areas that I had previously realised†.

My flight was indeed delayed and that on top of me being early anyhow meant we had nearly 2 hours. Over the last few years the Qantas terminal at Mascot has become a fully fledged and pretty up market shopping mall with some good food outlets and great shopping. We had a bite to eat and talked. Turns out he is as interesting and funny as he is sexy and I laughed and laughed with him. With him all the while rubbing against me discretely to keep me always at least slightly aroused.

OK, pretty much fully aroused the whole time.

We teased each other constantly. I really enjoy being sexy in public is ways the other people don't notice. Its dangerous and exciting, and he was not only up for it, he was REALLY good at it. After about 40 minutes of this he said "Come on, I have a girlfriend who works out here, lets go visit her". He could have talked me into almost anything at that point, so adjusting the lump in my pants I followed him.

We went into one of the fashion outlets in the terminal and chatted to his friend for a while. A nice girl who clearly knew him well and was happy to support our ongoing flirting. He had been looking at some clothes when he tuned to me and said – "what do you think of these pants on me?"

"They're not on you, so I cant tell" was my reply. "Thats easy fixed" he says, grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the back of the shop and the change rooms. His friends comment of "take your time" only just registered as I was completely focused on the fact that I might be about to get to kiss this amazing sexy man, a possibility I had ruled out given where we were‡.

He pulls me into the surprisingly large back change room, calmly closes the door, carefully hangs up the pants and turns to look at me – wicked smile splitting him from ear to ear – "I have been dying to do this" he says, and then with no rush, he kissed me.

I say with no rush, because to all intents and purposes my sense of time was completely suspended. He kisses beautifully and his strong body pressed up against me was completely intoxicating. I am not sure how long we were in there, and I am not divulging ALL Of the details, but there is not much we didn't do given the limitations of space and a pretty hard floor. The change room mirror certainly came in very handy.

We finally extracted ourselves when I heard my flight. His friend had actually closed the shop and was doing some sort of stocktaking with her iPod on, which was fortunate because there were some points where I think we were making a lot of noise.

He walked me to my gate, holding my hand the entire way. When we got there he said – "I really like you, are you interested in seeing me again?" This time I didn't hold back, I said 'HELL YES" and in full view of two (bitter, evil) stewards I am acquainted with kissed him.

Since then he has been down to Melbourne once and I have been up to Sydney once. I am not sure were its going, and it doesn't matter. I am having fun with it, and thats all that counts.

 † The latter – he was wearing a swimming jockstrap, which I now posses and am in fact wearing as I write this

‡ I am all for PDA's (public displays of affection) but snogging someone I have really only just met, and desperately want to shag, does seem a mite tacky.

---

For the record, this is more or less a complete fiction. What is more and what is less, you can figure out for yourself.

 Oh and thanks to http://www.britdoodz.com for the artwork,

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OK, so I am 37 and while I recognise I am not of the skater dude crowd anymore, I think I remain reasonably with it. Certainly I am immersed in pop culture and had still dance like an escapee from Solid Gold with a serious caffeine addiction, but I got a nasty shock the other day when trying to relate to a bunch of 14 year old girls.

Now any number of people would tell you that this should have been very much a case of equals talking, and to them I say – screw you, but I did stumble into the generation gap thats for sure. And as they say in Hong Kong – Tsing siu-sam jyt-toi hung-gwek.

We were auditioning girls for the lead in my next short film and as part of the process we were discussing pop idols. I figured that Justin Timberlake was a good conversational starter, but to my huge surprise it seems that not only is he no longer the gleam in the tween sets eyes, a number of them had not even heard of him.

Poor Justin – first that whole Superbowl thing and now he is being systematically rejected by the under 15 set.

This got me wondering -  have been completely deluding myself, am I in-fact now an old person and should be shuffled off to the twilight home for old disco faggots. I thought I would use Justin as my test case and ask what the blogosphere thinks of him. Are he and I still with it or are we now has beens?

[poll=10]

This is also a shameless excuse for another poll, since its been a while 

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So whats going on in the scientific community over in Ireland?

The news today is lightly abuzz with reports that an Irish Company, Steorn, is claiming to have found a way to create free, clean and constant energy with no impact on the environment around it – there by breaking the law of physics that states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only change form.

Here is a quote from the Steorn website. 

In 2003 Steorn undertook a project to develop more efficient micro generators. Early into this project the company developed certain generator configurations that appeared to be over 100% efficient. Further investigation and development has led to the company's current technology, a technology that produces free energy. 

 Interestingly they have issued a challenge in Economist for scientists to come forward and test their discovery in three specific ways:

1. Confirm that the Steorn technology has a coefficient of performance greater than 100%
2. Confirm that the operation of the Steorn technology does not affect the component parts of the technology
3. Carry out a full thermodynamic analysis of the technology

 On top of the challenge Steorn has offered to cover all direct costs relating to the validation process.

This discovery would completely change the dynamics of the planet and I suspect end the majority of conflict in the Middle East because a/ the region would suddenly become incredibly cash poor and b/ no one would care to get involved so they would be left to sort out their mess largely on their own. 

Very interesting if its true, but at this point I am skeptical. And the thing that has my skepticism most active is that I cant believe that the oil companies wouldn't have found out about this before now and crushed it.

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Trichotillomania  n

Trichotillomania (TTM) or "trich" is an impulse control disorder characterised by the repeated urge to pull out scalp hair, eyelashes, beard hair, nose hair, pubic hair, eyebrows or other body hair. It may be distantly related to obsessive-compulsive disorder, with which it shares both similarities and differences.

Trichotillomania has been mentioned as a disorder in very early historical records. Onset generally occurs at puberty. There is a strong stress-related component, that is, in low-stress environments some stop pulling altogether. Pulling resumes when one leaves this environment. 80% of those afflicted are female. Evidence is now starting to accumulate pointing to TTM as being genetic in origin. Stimulant abuse has also been known to cause, or at least trigger episodes of, trichotillomania

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At 5.30 in the morning on September 11th 2001, I climbed down the hill from my place in San Francisco and caught the bus to go to the gym. As we went through the Castro, some old guy got on the bus – dishevelled, unwashed and wild eyed. He was talking about someone flying a plane into a building in New York. I settled back into my public transport nap until we got to 16th St where I got off and walked to the gym.

When I arrived everyone was clustered around the  TV's near the cardio equipment. A plane, probably an Air American flight, had crashed into one of the World Trade Centre towers, I was just getting my head around what I was seeing when the second plane came in.

I watched it live.

Just about everyone has a story about where they were on September 11th. Its a seminal moment in our history and while certainly not the biggest disaster in this new century, its received the most media attention. Now a new movie will give it some more attention and this one will, I think, bring with it a certain amount of catharsis.

The film is shown in nearly real time and chronicles a hypothetical reconstruction of what happened on September 11, 2001. Four planes were hijacked on the day and while three of them reached their targets in New York and Washington, one did not. "United 93" is the story of the fourth which crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania when passengers foiled the terrorist plot.

The film is unsettling from the beginning. You know that everyone on the plane is going to die, and I will admit that there were a few moments in the first 15 minutes when I questioned if I was going to sit through it. I stayed and I am glad I did.

Shot with grainy stock using a handheld, Cinéma vérité /documentary style the film is intimate, gripping and realistic. The actors are normal looking people and behave in normal ways, there are no heroics and no hero's. It took me a while to spot an actor I recognised and more than once I wondered if they had used non actors for the piece – the story itself takes center stage and is the star of the film.

 I found the style of the film to be very non standard. There was no single view point, with story parts being told by all of the players on and off the flight. Sitting there I felt the best way to describe it was as a "tapestry", the international poster really does give an excellent feel for what I mean. The story rest solely in the cabin of United 93, it covers evens in FAA control centres and the NORAD military command to give a very well rounded view of events.

There is some predictable All American RaRa, but surprisingly not as much as I expected. The passengers are hysterical, frightened and very human. The strongest theme of American Heroism is provided as a counterpoint with the German passenger, Christian Adams, being portrayed as weak and trying to appease the hijackers. A not very subtle dig at the "weak" Europeans and their stance on Iraq and the 'War on Terror". Understandably Christian Adams widow, Silke, apparently refused to be involved in the film.

In contrast I am personally very pleased to see that the gay man on the flight, Mark Bingham†, is not only at the centre of the action, but is also played by the totally hot Cheyenne Jackson . While it is a pity they do not make a it known he is gay, he at no point cries like a bitch or offers fashion advice – I am going to call this a marginal win.

Unexpectedly I walked away with a surprising amount of sympathy for the hijacker pilot, Ziad Jarrah. A message that I think was important for the film, making it stronger and more human. It is easy to fall back on demonising the terrorists, to deal with them simply as an evil other, but I suspect that approach is not going to give us a resolution to the escalating conflict that doesn't involve genocide. While not condoning their action, the film does show, particularly Ziad, to have a great deal of humanity.

All up I think this film is a must see. It will bring up things you had put aside, but film making is also about helping us deal with our pain. I think this movie does exactly that. 

†Mark Bingham is my only one degree of seperation with 911. I didn't know him well, just chatting pals at the gym, but I knew him and his presence was missed in San Francisco. That he was gay is almost a non issue – almost. His bravery has been documented from the phone calls from United 93 and verified by the people who knew him. He did what he had to for the people on the plane with him and the people on the ground, even knowing that he was unlikely to survive. And all this for a country who does not recognise his orientation enough to allow brave men like him to be public about their sexuality and serve the military.

Another example of a gay man turning the other cheek and just getting on with life in a way that the moral scolds simply cannot match.

Mark was a good man, and the world is a lesser place with out him in it. 

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