“shame” … world aids day 2014

it beats me why there’s not a stronger affinity between the blacks and the gays…both have undergone comparable injustice…..if you’re sensitive,it can do real damage to your sense of self worth, and while there’s a fatal disease that finds inroads through the easy door of desire,you need all the self worth in the world in order to duck and dive it.

the gays and blacks often played the same assimilationist trick on themselves.many blacks straightened their hair,while many a gay wanted to be perceived as just like them…think of whitney housten and michael jackson all whitened up for the 1980’s,and then think of george michael having staged photos with a topless girl on a beach,or elton married to renata for one minute 25 seconds.those must have been strange times for the gay and famous..i feel for them,and totally sympathise with how they ended up acting out that whole thing….but then i think of jimi somerville who had the courage of his own convictions right from the start…absolutely no shame whatsoever…he seems so grounded and happy to me … and i look at prince now,who’s thrown that bottle of chemical hair straightener away,in favour of a big furry afro…it just looks and feels right.

y’know so many times when i come in contact with straight friends,they’ll still make some snide jibe that does nothing for my self esteem…only yesterday i spoke to a chap i’ve known since childhood,who said he saw me on the internet with dick emery glasses on.… DICK EMERY?!…in the desert a couple of months ago i was talking to a retired cop from the north of england,who in the full knowledge of my sexuality,blithly told me how it was often his job to hang around public toilets in england to entrap gaylords in the 1970’s…he told me about the time he entrapped a big cheese from the oil industry who cried begging to not be reported..and all the while i’m listening to this,and i’m supposed to take this story like a good sport since hey,times are different now…dear reader i was livid…the next day he and his wife saw me out taking photographs of the bikers on their harleys.. he slithered up to me saying”ooh i can see you taking pictures of the boys”…THE BOYS?!…these are grizzly MEN… i just told him to fuck off…

recently thomas had old friends of his from farming days staying over in the house…we’d cleaned a spare room for them..lovely fresh bedsheets…thomas is in the kitchen making them a nice supper…it’s the very picture of domestic bliss,and this chap tells us that he feels in his soul that marriage shouldn’t be allowed for the gays…dear reader…he is saying this in our very home,where he’s having his dinner cooked by my sweetheart,and the irony and arrogance was totally lost on him…he thought he was being a completely reasonable sociable person..what really hurts is these are good people..they’re not cunts…if they were simply cunts,i could just put it down to people who are cunts…but they’re not cunts…so it hurts. i could give you a million examples of this sort of bollox,that date right back to my days as a young fey teenager,but i’m running out of your time.

thankfully me and thomas are content with our civil partnership ,cause that protects us legally…we have a lot of fun living like complete g-lords and don’t crave the empty promise of assimilation,so marriage isn’t important to us,even if it is for others,and that is surely their right.

what is important though is the shame…and if i had one thing to say to any young gaylord at the front of his or her life on world aids day, it is never let them shame you…just like the blacks,being a pansy has proven to be full of rich potential…from leonardo da vinci to david geffen… so guard the self worth that guards your health..don’t let shame take you down the road of self destruction.that’s why folk loose themselves in extreme drugs .they need to transcend the unhappy skin they’re in … any addict straight or gay will tell you.

here’s me in my dick emery glasses…  dear reader…aren’t they good?!..and what about that video at the top of the page..i love the shy dignity of those two fellas.20141024_152335 - Version 5

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Chris Stein’s photography exhibition

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somerset house up the strand in central london is one gem of a place to hang out .. right now they’ve got an ice rink in the central courtyard with giddy folk falling on their arses,while others, even in wheelchairs, get taken by their carers for a spin over the freeze. there’s a huge tree laden with massive balls that truly stinks of christmas if you go up close enuff to sniff…that smell comes by way of fortnum & masons, but y’know..whatever.

the best thing though is chris stein’s photography exhibition in one of the many galleries off the main courtyard. entry is free,and the pictures are even more free.by that i mean,they’re loose… direct from the eye of a man who was boyfriend, guitar player,co-songwriter,and friend to anyone in the frame of every photograph. you’ll get a strong sense of all that if you read chris’s fantastic little anecdotes that reside by nearly every blow-up in the gallery…the affection for his extended rock and roll family, which includes everyone from iggy,joan jett,the ramones, is instantly obvious.there’s real sadness too, like the time joey ramone called chris from his death bed to say goodbye.i particularly loved this shot of debbie and clem the drummer…clem looks so sharp it’s almost funny…see how people on the street just have to stop and stare.19ae7e26-7631-4567-bd17-311fa193c925

one of the lovely things about chris stein is how all the way through the blondie years,he never bragged about his genuine study of the arts.with camera in hand from early on,he and debbie rode highs that were followed by the worst lows from falling dangerously sick..he only refers to it once as“that long assed illness”, yet nearly died,while debbie sacrificed stardom to bring him back from the brink by devoting herself as a 24/7 nurse…and after the multi million albums sales, they found themselves completely fleeced and penniless, with no safety net to catch them…

however,time is kind to their legacy..the music they made hasn’t dated at all…they’re also one of the few bands who emanated a style that doesn’t look silly 35 years after the fact.one other thing i picked up on from this exhibition was how blondie were serious anglophiles.it was a big deal for them when they flew over here during the punk era for the first time…especially for their good looking drummer clem burke…it’s funny y’know…the coolest people i know in america are all anglophiles….but can you blame them?, and can you blame us for loving the great american songbook?….if there really is a ‘special relationship’ between the states and europe,it’s surely there in our mutual world of music…both have been selling each others music back and forth to each other for decades… after all…what would the beatles be without little richard or the everly brothers..chris stein will tell you himself how blondie’s ‘heart of glass’ was born out of a love for the bee gees ‘stayin alive’ and the european sound of kraftwerk.22bengal-hartman-slide-9GLB-jumbo

i’ll leave you with a freely downloadable song of my own that was born of my love for chrissie hynde and blondie…so dear reader.. if you’ve got a little time on your hands,you could do worse things than spend a couple of hours in somerset house…rudolph the red nosed reindeer is ringing out down the decorated corridors and around the ice rink,but in one gallery,it’s pure ramones,iggy and blondie…. afterwards you could dander for a while by the river thames, which is easily accessed in through the out door of this charming house….lots of love, pop pickers…mary fairy liquid.  

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letting the guard down for the lens

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there are folk who can finger their way around a camera like it’s second nature to them,but i’m an absolute disaster when it comes to technology, so the plan is always to try make these very limitations work for me as best as possible.

brian eno and david bowie had an interesting strategy for keeping things spunky in a professional recording studio..they’d get their top banana world class musicians to swap instruments in the hope that it would revive a raw urgent feeling if things got a little bit too slick. a perfect example of that is the bowie song ‘boys keep swinging’..the drummer swaps places with the guitarist and so forth. the results sound like high school kids playing at an end of term celebration.

i sometimes think about that when i get round to making videos…it gives me hope that i might get interesting results if i just thrust the camera into the hands of a friend who isn’t familiar with the toy. in the case of this clip i was lucky enough to be hanging out with a very intrepid seventy year old …one day we got high on marijuana fruit juice,then headed towards a wind storm in a quarry…it was hot and dusty…my video camera was foreign to him…his eye sight wasn’t great, but he ripped his way through the dust clouds like a thirty five year old…we were both a mess afterwards…the dust gave us sort throats and eyes for days. that evening we viewed the footage laughing …to a slick pro it may have looked unusable..but in my eyes it felt loose and freeform..and i love that.

the footage then just sat around until the right song got written that might lend a strange sense to the drama … y’know there’s a lovely moment when you slide the right piece of music underneath some video footage for the first time, where it all suddenly comes alive .. it’s a wonder of nature how music can drive an emotional charge into moving pictures.

there’s also something wild about letting the guard down and giving yourself up to a camera lens. you’re never sure what it will reveal about you.in the case of this video all i can see is damage and wilful isolation, in search of resolve.

always…mary of the wilderness .

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as malcolm mclaren once said “paris is jazz…jazz is paris”.

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it still blows me away how there’s a train out of london that goes under the sea,and ends up in the centre of paris a couple of hours later.you leave paris after lunch to be back home in the kitchen by dinner time…..y’know not all of modern life is rubbish…so much is good.

we’re both drawn to the jazz. we’re not buffs by any stretch,so it’s mostly a bit of a guessing game,but in paris, jazz is everywhere,and we took a chance on a young american called james brandon lewis.we missioned towards a tiny little club called ‘le duc des lombards’ where they did punchy cocktails…thomas drank his usual lovely smelling ‘old fashioned’,and i had my heady tequila,then this good-looking fellow hits the stage armed with his saxophone,drummer and double bassist….right then and there i worried…no piano..no guitar…no sweetener…it was a racket of a noise…like ornette coleman or something..the drummer didn’t nail down a groove once…it was wild,and i felt anxious that thomas would be bored,but he was the one getting into it.the lesson i learn there was never under rate your partner… when you worry about others tastes or limitations,maybe it’s time to just check your own. the james brandon lewis set was mercifully short,and was followed by a more traditional jazz band with all the sweetener i could wish for,yet it’s that mad james brandon lewis sound that lingers…he’s a good memory…the drummer came down afterwards and talked to me….. a sweet sweet boy from maryland[?!] now living in new york…quizzing him on how he survives there, he tells me playing in conventional cover bands doing weddings and bar mitzvahs helps pay the rent … i asked him if tonights music was influenced by ornette coleman,and i can’t remember if it is or not,but he did say he’d been round to his loft…..to play pool with him!@£$%

the next day we went to a huge exhibition of art brut…do you know what art brut is?…it’s a term coined for work by extremely creative folk who’ve had a life in mental institutions,or have been pushed to the very edges of society…so there’s very detailed work by souls with aspergers syndrome…schitzophrenia..that sort of thing….a lot of it was a true cry for love,safety and understanding…heartbreaking..it went on and on and on forever,and just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore,you turn a corner and something else was there ready to blow you away again..we loved it…it knackered us.we were there for a good three hours.

no trip is complete without a roll around the gutter,so a final hoot was a paris gay leather bar. it was quite late, and wasn’t busy except for three hardcore hairy bears who were very into each other…one of them was getting a right flogging by the other two…thomas got bored and left me to watch..he’s seen it all before, and outgrown all that malarky..so he left for bed…and then everybody left till the only folk there were myself and these three handsome bears going hell for leather….just when i thought it couldn’t get anymore interesting,one pulled a police truncheon out of a bag,and attached a big rubber dildo on to the end of the weapon…he then slathered the customised truncheon in axelgrease before feeding the hungry angel with what he wanted…the cries of ecstasy from him were fantastic..one of the chaps then pulled a condom over his own fanny hammer and attempted to ride his colleague, but he couldn’t get a strong enough erection..it didn’t seem to matter,so he went back to his truncheon for a while,and then the passive one made a supreme howl of ecstasy which punctuated the end of the evening …they spent the last half hour winding down, then they left together like one happy little family .IMG_1138 - Version 4

midway back to london on the eurostar a woman appeared to ask if i’d answer some marketing survey questions..she asked why we’d upgraded to economy plus or whatever it’s called, and i said “lower middle class snobbery”..the young chap opposite giggled at my answers to her questions,and he,it turns out works for that fresh fruit juice company called ‘innocent’..i told him i drink that muck everyday and like it a lot.i warmed to that brand of juice five years ago cause it was a small cottage business making a very pure product,but he tells me it’s just now been bought over by…..wait for it…….COCA COLA!@£$%^&

on the very last part of the ride home on the train at finsbury park station,a mother, grandmother, with young kids get on and sit right by us…and i’m like oh no…but hopefully they didn’t pick up on that..still it was real selfish of me….i sat watching this young mother and grandmother deal with these well behaved,yet active children..it gradually dawned on me how tired these ladies looked,yet there was a real joyful bond between them…they were so selfless and kind to these constantly curious kids….the grandmother got off at the same station as us,and it was apparent to anyone within earshot that i didn’t recognise where we were, cause the platform had undergone a refurb,and she chimed in to reassure me i was indeed at the right station…she even selflessly directed us to the new lifts, cause she could see we had heavy suitcases…this was all from a grandmother who was exhausted from taking kids round the zoo and buckingham palace all day……….i will never groan ever again when mothers with young active infants board a train…i live and learn not to be such a tight arse.

paris is becoming familiar now…i do like the parisians.. the woman have a natural poise and elegance..they’re maybe more forthright than the english..they get straight to the point…many who know more may laugh,but i can’t say the food is wonderful…london has seriously upped it’s own game over the last ten years….i had the worst moules mariniere on this trip…but then i also had the worst pasta ever in italy… in rome…right there in vatican city.

more than anything, there’s thomas … his kindness and patience..i wasn’t always the greatest of company…i was having the head staggers before we even left,but he was a pure doll to me and i love him….and hats off to you dear reader..i hope you found this little missive a worthwhile read…mary fairy liquid.

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hey there beautiful…shine for marys camera.

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dressing up

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how much does therapy costs these days? it’s been a long time. thomas bought me a couple of sessions as a birthday gift around eighteen years ago,and it was surely money well spent.the doctor who was very old and wise, got the gist of my ongoing fear of nearly everything,while pressing home three important words..calm…control..confidence. i can’t say i successfully employ those virtues all of the time,but i do strive to,cause i’m prone to blowing my top…if someone experiments with my buttons,i’ll give wiggle room for a while,but if the bollox persists, it’s only a matter of yards before i vomit up lime green bile.i don’t always regret it,but often i do,knowing full well there was a better way to have handled things….calm control confidence.

as a fourteen year old teenager in northern ireland, i had therapy for roughly a year on wednesday afternoons after school….a while before the therapy,i was taken up to a hospital where they checked about my brain. it was a chilling yet painless experience..they laid me on a stretcher, greased and wired little attachments to my head,told me to relax,and when i closed my eyes i saw pretty little patterns,and that was that…my brain was fine i guess,but therapy was afoot.

the trouble started when i’d been caught missing school..i’d manage to hide from it for several months,until the school finally called my mother to ask if all was alright,but no one asked me…they just rattled up the drama into a worse state.

the reason i avoided school was because of the physical education classes. this completely private hell was born from the idea of having to take my clothes off in the smelly changing rooms for hockey or whatever else.the thought of stripping off naked in front of all those awful stinky boys, struck to the very soul of me …this nightmare escalated till it was all i thought about for roughly two miserable years….in the end they got the truth out of me. a permanent pass out of physical education classes was issued,and that was that…..funny how now you’d be hard pressed to find a keener exhibitionist…i’m forever ripping my kit off for anyone who’s standards are low enough to watch. maybe i’ve fetishised my own worst nightmare in order to cope with it.

do you ever watch that absolutely brilliant cartoon on the telly called american dad? me and thomas love it…you know during the theme tune where he jumps out of bed in his y-fronts and sings ‘good morning usa’?…well i jump out of my armchair,pull my trousers down,revealing myself in the exact same white y-fronts as american dad,while singing along with the telly..thomas loves this…it’s a million miles away from the kid who skived off school cause he was afraid of taking his clothes off in front of other cunts for hockey.

those first therapy sessions as a teenager were such a joke…the therapist would just stare at me for ages..i’d say nothing..but i wasn’t being passive aggressive,i just didn’t know how to articulate anything….she’d ask about the bowler hat and cape i often wore,but i didn’t really know why i was wearing these things…i just loved to…she’d see me flouncing around the tiny farming town in my cape and bowler while she was doing her errands…at fourteen this was my chosen attire,and i must have looked a proper fruitcake,yet somehow it kept me sane…

i’m still dressing up..but the plot thickens now i’ve discovered all these other nelly poofs who do it too.i’d really like to go for therapy again,just to find out what it all means,though these days i tend to lap up the funny side of all this…one time out here in the desert i went to a fetish party where everyone was dressed up as leathermen…skinheads and cops…the club had been greedy and packed too many into the venue, so the real police arrived to shut the party down…it was hilariously embarrassing for both sides to watch fake ravishing cops being turned over by reluctantly real cops.it really did piss on everyones fish n chips badly………hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

i’ll finish off now..a load of dentists,lawyers,and doctors are riding into the desert tonight posing as hells angels on expensive harleys among real hells angels on harleys…happy weekend to any dear soul who reads this revery .. mary fairy liquid xxxxxxx

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the naturist resort

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watching very old human beings parade around naked in the sunshine is like some sort of cruel primer regarding ones own fate…the thin ones like me,will end up with skin flapping and hanging off where a backside used to be,while fat backsides look much better…more firm and plump,but sometimes with a fat fucker,as my good friend jef observes, their todger looks like its been sucked up into the big enormous belly,so all you can see is the nut sack and a little button of a bell-end……hahahahahahahahahaha.

forgive me

mary fairy liquid

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