b r a v e c r e a t u r e s

Sometimes when you travel, particularly when you have stood still for a long while, the places you visit get inside you. today I feel positively aglow, willingly invaded by the basking golden glow of Iberian sunshine.

I am in the stunning new airport in Madrid awaiting my flight back to my new home in London and I can feel the warmth and contentment radiating from me.

The parties over the weekend were wild and exciting, the people unbelievably open, helped no doubt by old friends from San Francisco - now Londoners,  Andreas and Massimo, who seem to both know everyone and be welcomed by them.  A better introduction I could not have had.

Not enough sleep, not enough food but there was hardly time to stop . There were too many things to see and do, to many people to meet to let me feet touch the ground for long - little own my head hit the pillow.

Something in me feels like it has come alive again, a contentment and connection to the world that I have not felt since San Francisco. I still have no idea how this latest adventure, this chapter in my life, will play out. But I am sure this was the right decision.

London is apparently a little grey today, and wrapped in a blanket of tension from the latest terrorist threats, but I am heading back there a glow with the warmth of Spain and the excitement of unknown possibilities.

More pictures from Madrid over at Flickr . 

Here in Australia the weather is well and truly freaking out. A week before Christmas here in Melbourne the temperature was around 32°  every day for a week, and in Melbourne that means dry heat. A week later and it was 18° and snowing in the Victorian High Country.

At Christmas!

Now for your northern centric bores, remember thats like saying it was snowing in San Francisco or London on June 25th.

Freakish!

Of course it did help contain the once in a century bush fires that were at the time ravaging an area the size of Belgium in the states north east. But apart from that small dump of snow, the country appears to have been unbelievably dry. Farmers in the Murray Darling Basin*, one of Australia's bread baskets, conveniently placed in one of the most naturally arid regions in the country, are entering their seventh year of drought. Meanwhile  most capitals are  employing quite sever water restrictions and Melbourne's reservoirs are expected to drop to 20% by May '07.

Its disturbing, in an Al Gore kind of way.

I went to a party up in Lismore for New Years Eve, Tropical Fruits, and the landscape in New South Wales could not be more different to Victoria. Its green and lush still, while down here it is frighteningly dry and brown. The party was fairly good, but it got fairly cold over night and because I was re-hydrating responsibly I found that I was heading to the bathroom every 20 minutes or so. I say "bathrooms" but in fact there was not much in the way of facilities on offer and because boys will be guys† were going where ever they liked.

It feel like we had become nothing more than a clandestine mechanism for moving water from one place to another while warming it slightly. Its as if the Lismore Shire Council was secretively flouting the water restrictions by using 2000 gay men as a watering system for their lawns.

Aside from anything else it resulted in an evening of "no don't sit there…or there..no not there either".

But I digress.

In actuality its been a higher than average rainfall year for Australia. No really, it has. Its just that its not raining on the places we live and farm - which used to be where it rained all the time. Thats why we lived and farmed here.

But it seems that has changed. According to the Australian Bureau of Meteorology, 2006 has not only been one of the hottest years on record, its been one of the strangest and the Australian farming districts heading for a decade of drought its pretty clear that Australia is going to need to lead the world in addressing climate change. I know I am banging a well gonged drum at the moment, but this needs reinforcement at every level because the reality of the situation STILL Doesnt seem to be sinking in with most people.

Its going to take more than a few peeing faggots to solve the problem. Its going to take a concerted effort, changes in habits (do you really need to flush), government and public programs and a willingness on the part of businesses to look to get ahead of the climate change curve and advantage from the differences rather than suffer. But before they will do that, there needs to be government pressure to push them in that direction.

As my friend Sharon says - Carrot AND Prickly Stick.

The question I have for you dear reader is - what the hell are you doing? What have you changed in the last 12 months to reduce power usage (power leads to carbon remember), reduce emissions and reduce water usage.

At the very least, have you written to your local member, or the Minister for the Environment and Heritage letting them know that you are concerned with the issue and you want them to address it more directly? If you dont say anything, they don't know - and an email takes literally 10 minutes. 

Think about it - ok? 

* Actually its name, I am not just being camp 

† And some girls actually

The weekend brought a number of surprises, last weekend was planned to be chock full of goodness and both of those on top of my new job mean that I have been a BAD BLOGGER. I really haven't had anything much that interesting to say for a while.

Trust me, stuffs going on, and not just personally.I

am completely bent out of shape over the new cross media ownership laws, I am just about to slip into insulin shock from being inundated with images of this seasons moppet - Bindy Irwin, I am hawkishly watching the medias feeding frenzy of Jonestown and I am completely enraptured by my new ipod and phone - the last ones having died in a freak accident that did not, in any way, involve a racing car or a sting ray.

But tonight as a quicky I am going to tell you about a gift I was given over the weekend.

My weekends surprise visitor saw my sadly broken snow globe the last time he was here. I have not thrown it out because it still means a great deal to me, both for the memories it carries and because it represent a city I adore, full of people I love.

It's a symbol, and while I dont believe that the universe is planning anything, I do recognise that symbols are important. They give focus to our dreams and aspirations.

So this someone arrived out of the blue on Saturday, completely making my weekend - and in-spite of the fact their presence was absolutely enough, they brought me a gift. Nothing expensive mind, but something very precious none the less.

A San Francisco snow globe from their own collection†, and ts actually even better than the original that broke.

So how do I interpret that. Certainly its a very kind and thoughtful gift, but it feels like it carries a message, that there are good things around the corner. I am going to say thins cautiously, but I feel that I am on the rise.

Meanwhile the writhing black goddess of pop music has sent me some cheering Euro-pop to match my mood and lift my spirits even further.

Anna Sahlene with "This Woman". I have been Evangelisting all day.

250lbs of bearded man in a suit and tie walking like a supermodel, dancing like a 12 year old girl and grinning like an idiot - something to see, let me tell you.

Check it out at the iTunes Music Store if you like the sound of it.

† Yes, he collects snow globes too, which seems an unlikely coincidence.

One of the ways I used to describe myself was that my friends were very eclectic - gay and straight, young and older, male and female, gym toned and not. Since living in San Francisco I have not been so lucky, or perhaps I should say sensible. San Fran is a very gay male dominated society and it was easy to slip into a demographic groove. I have to thank Gina, Erica, Joel and Sam for providing me with some diversity and sanity.

Since getting back to Australia I have been living very quietly and so my social circle has been pretty limited - something I am currently working on changing although to be fair in 2005 my best friend was a 60 something year old woman. In meeting folks and socializing I am being pretty actively aware of keep my demographics a bit broader than San Fran. God knows I don't want to end up like someone I know* who only associates with muscular gay men over 220lbs.

I conducted a small mental audit this morning, regarding what I am reading and what I am exposing myself to. This was inspired by a couple of articles I read in the newspaper that I really didn't agree with. I found that I enjoyed the experience of disagreeing; it opened my mind and got me out of myself. It broadened my horizons.

I have never really felt the need to agree with everyone around me - not in a disagreeable bastard kind of way, rather because I enjoy the interplay that conversation. I think I get this from my father, Alan, who would argue about two flies crawling up the wall if there was some entertainment to be had from it. And he was a funny man, so there was usually some entertainment to be had.

Disagreement to me is not a sign of lack of respect, or a reason to avoid association. It doesn't mean that you are at odds with the other person, or that there needs to be animosity. And even though I am quite able to get heated about issues, that heat doesn't affect my respect or care for the other person. In fact I am more respecting of someone who has opinions, say what they mean and make a case for it.

I like having my preconceptions challenged and my expectations of the world shaken about a little. And I like having people around me who are up to that challenge.

This morning's experience started me thinking about my blog reading - and embarrassingly they are largely left leaning, technosavy white gay boys, which really means I am kind of eating in my own intellectual dog food.

Tasty as that can be, I really feel I need some diversity of diet, so I put this challenge to the 70 or so (and climbing) daily visitors to Brave Creatures - comment on this post and give me some ideologically disparate blogs to read, expand my horizons.

Lets see what we come up with.

* that's know, not like - definitely not a friend

It's been a week of strange dreams. Some of them have been real doozies, and not the fantasy, dancing jalapeños with strawberry cricket bats or the super Mario flying kind. They have been dreams of things that I would like to happen, day dreams coming to me as I have slept with all the technicolour and full sense-o-round that asleep dreams have.

There has been no need to translate; I get what these dreams mean - both directly and indirectly. They are me dealing with the loss of a(nother) very substantial dream, the second most significant dream of my life. My capacity for hope in the face of adversity and defeat keeps trying to assert itself, when there is pretty much no hope to be had. I am clinging to the things that have made me happy in the past, even when they are no longer on offer

I recognize that the solution for me is the find new dreams, to find new things to fill my nights and my fantasies but the two things I dream about are so strong for me - my love of San Francisco, my life and my friends there; and my still abiding love for my ex.

One of these two I can do something about - San Francisco. The place keeps calling to me. I want to share an email that I got from a friend when he found out I wasn't making it over a couple of weeks back. I have paraphrased a little to protect his identity.

Sweetheart

I will call you as soon as I get to work tomorrow….or actually in the afternoon because you are ahead…..the BF and I were REALLY bummed. I looked for you everywhere. I kept my phone by my bed each night…..

We are hiring…..
I know you did not work in my area BUT, you are a seasoned PM and have incredible leadership qualities…..if you want, send me your resume and I can see what my boss says.

It is a thought. I will see what I can do on my end; if you want….I may know someone to help….you never know.

Love

T&T

And this is only one of a number of messages from people I haven't seen since April 2004. Is it any wonder that I feel like it's my home?

People ask me all the time why I want to leave Australia. The best answer I can give is that while this is a wonderful place, I would always want to come back here, and if things were different I would ABSOLUTELY have made a happy home here, right now it's not the place for me.

Here in Australia, and in Melbourne in particular, I am too big, too loud, too brash and to over the top. I startle and surprise far more than I delight. So do I change me, or my location? The truth is that the man the last 3 years have forged needs other horizons, other types of people.

So once I have regained some composure, I will see what the real outcome is in relation to the US. And failing that, things look quiet hopeful for London in the spring.

The question all of this leaves me with is - do you hold on to your dreams; high, fiery noble dreams; regardless of cost, work and fight for them for all you are worth, or do you surrender to the whims of chance and accept the dreams that fit into your circumstances and make the best of them?

Or does being true to yourself and also true to the world require some middle ground, and area I have long been bad at exploring.

In the meantime, I sit here with a milky hot chocolate and a tasty Cote D'Or Bouchee and hope that the sleep that's been avoiding me tonight will come soon. And that it will bring with it happy dreams complete with Marios Flying Cap.

On my window ledge at my desk I have a snow globe from San Francisco. It's a really nice one, glass with a ceramic base rather than plastic, given to me by a friend when James and I were to first leave at the end of 2002. I keep it there as a reminder of where I want to be. It's a talisman of hope.

Its had a crack in it for a while, but I have kept it there because cracked dreams are not broken - right? Where there is life, there is hope - right?

This morning I got up and found that it had broken completely. The water had run out and evaporated, the opalescent glitter it held had spilled onto the window ledge.

I am not a big one for believing in signs, but sometimes its hard to not believe that the universe is telling me something.

Time to find some new dreams I guess - as Barbie says "Another Suitcase in Another Hall ". 

I was coming home from the gym today when I found a message on my phone. A message that when I first heard it actually made tears appear. Tears of happiness.

My US Green Card application has failed, for reasons that I am not going into here and I have been left a little directionless by this piece of bad news. I can't tell you how much I want to move back to San Fran, and how much I miss my friends there. Its not a perfect place by any stretch of the imagination, but its the place I have felt most at home.

So suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, this message comes in from my friends there and rather than making me feel sad about the failed green card, it galvanises me to figuring out how to get back where I feel I belong.

I am not sure how I am going to manage it, but I am feeling Mary Tyler Moore† about it. I'm going to make it after all.

The irony of this arriving on the day I used "Hope" as my word of the week is not lost on me.

Thank you Jerry, hearing from all of you is exactly what I needed. 

†Not the Minneapolis part. No offence to the fine people of Minnesota

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.