longlivecanapés

When a faggots wit meets the fork in road towards cruel honesty...

Mon, 10 Sep 2012 23:35:48 +1000

Benjamin: Oh as if Julie Bishop isn't a fucking ROARING fag hag. Just look at the bitch.
Me: She does have the square jawline of a female competitive swimmer so scared of her own femininity she spends her entire adolescence hovering around men naturally drawn to her broad shoulders and lack of menstrual cycle...
Benjamin: NICHOLAS OH MY GOD. I am shocked. Okay, shocked and delighted.
Me: Now I can only picture an awkward teenage J'Bish in a Todd Solondz film. (It doesn't end well).
Benjamin: Oh god, poor adolescent Julie Bishop in glasses, forced into a toilet cubicle and being told to shit on cue ...
Me: I'm glad you went there and not Palindromes.

“Just interviewed @Beyonce. She could not be any nicer. -...

Thu, 16 Aug 2012 01:42:40 +1000

“Just interviewed @Beyonce. She could not be any nicer. - @andersoncooper- #webstagram”

ACK

and then you came as I came, and I would never tell where yours ended and mine began. and it was...

Fri, 03 Aug 2012 16:19:07 +1000

and then you came

as I came, and I would

never tell where yours ended

and mine began. and

it was just so easy

to lie down with you

even though we didn’t

know each other

bonfireephemera: yoshiontherun: DAT BEARD. I’ll now being...

Fri, 03 Aug 2012 14:44:13 +1000

bonfireephemera:

yoshiontherun:

DAT BEARD.

I’ll now being playing “the mirror game” with each of these boxes. #twobecomeone

MULTI-FASS-ITED

terrysdiary: Frank Ocean at my studio #51

Fri, 03 Aug 2012 14:33:40 +1000

terrysdiary:

Frank Ocean at my studio #51

alecshao: Bertil Nilsson - Dancer, 2012

Wed, 01 Aug 2012 08:30:02 +1000

alecshao:

Bertil Nilsson - Dancer, 2012

thedeerhouse: a dear friend is celebrating his thirtieth this...

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 03:32:49 +1000

thedeerhouse:

a dear friend is celebrating his thirtieth this week. it’s hard to put into words how much his friendship has meant and what a special person he is.

See y’all when I get back from NYC.

Mon, 18 Jun 2012 17:38:18 +1000

See y’all when I get back from NYC.

gluefingers: I’m back in the town I grew up in for a little while, and, like every...

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 20:19:39 +1000

gluefingers: I’m back in the town I grew up in for a little while, and, like every...:

gluefingers:

I’m back in the town I grew up in for a little while, and, like every time before this one, ‘this is the last time’. I’ve become so used to complaining about it, having hated it for so long before I left, that the tiniest things will set me off. ”Of COURSE it’s an hour between buses - BRISBANE.”…

I LOVE MY DEAD GAY SON(-BRO-FRIEND-EX).

This is an original-era ALF doll, a gift I was given one...

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 16:57:08 +1000

This is an original-era ALF doll, a gift I was given one Christmas in the 80’s. He’s been with me everywhere I go, but the last few years he’s been in a suitcase in the closet. Now he’s going into storage. This is some Ozu’s Tokyo Story shit right here :(

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Sun, 10 Jun 2012 17:53:33 +1000

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Sun, 10 Jun 2012 17:45:10 +1000

"She had, with her lover, contracted a pact of suicide. She took an overdose of sleeping pills,..."

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 17:05:20 +1000

“

She had, with her lover, contracted a pact of suicide. She took an overdose of sleeping pills, perhaps washed down with a mouthful or two of alcohol, while he — whose need to die must have been very great — took an overdose with booze also and, to make assurance doubly sure, slashed himself in a hot bath. I shall never be sure what depth of misery had made this outcome seem to her the sole recourse: on the hotel’s switchboard record were several attempted calls to my number in London which the operator had failed to connect.

Who knows what might have changed if Yvonne could have heard my voice even in her extremity? I might have said something to cheer or even tease her: something to set against her despair and perhaps give her a momentary purchase against the death wish…

At all events, this is how it ends. I am eventually escorted to the hotel suite where it had all happened. The two bodies had had to be removed, and their coffins sealed, before I could get there. This was for the dismally sordid reason that the dead couple had taken a while to be discovered. The pain of this is so piercing and exquisite, and the scenery of the two rooms so nasty and so tawdry, that I hide my tears and my nausea by pretending to seek some air at the window. And there, for the first time, I receive a shattering, full-on view of the Acropolis. For a moment, and like the Berlin Wall and other celebrated vistas when glimpsed for the first time, it almost resembles some remembered postcard of itself. But then it becomes utterly authentic and unique. That temple really must be the Parthenon, and almost near enough to stretch out and touch. The room behind me is full of death and darkness and depression, but suddenly here again and fully present is the flash and dazzle and brilliance of the green, blue, and white of the life-giving Mediterranean air and light that lent me my first hope and confidence. I only wish I could have been clutching my mother’s hand for this, too.

Yvonne, then, was the exotic and the sunlit when I could easily have had a boyhood of stern and dutiful English gray. She was the cream in the coffee, the gin in the Campari, the offer of wine or champagne instead of beer, the laugh in the face of bores and purse-mouths and skinflints, the insurance against bigots and prudes. Her defeat and despair were also mine for a long time, but I have reason to know that she wanted me to withstand the woe, and when I once heard myself telling someone that she had allowed me a second identity, I quickly checked myself and thought, no, perhaps with luck she had represented my first and truest one.

”

- Christopher Hitchens, speaking of his mother’s suicide.

Packing up my room to move on out of my place at St...

Fri, 08 Jun 2012 15:30:00 +1000

Packing up my room to move on out of my place at St Philly’s. This is the second-longest I’ve lived somewhere my entire life, coming in at a whopping 2.5 years.

Every time I move I find this scrap of mylar, silver and (fading) electric blue. I stole it off the stage at the Malthouse in 2005, after I saw Forced Entertainment’s “Bloody Mess”. It was a work that shifted my understanding of performance, maybe for the better maybe for the worse. Moving to Melbourne a few years ago was informed by a need to forget my creativity. Getting it back, affected and informed by knowing where it comes from*, has been great. Now it’s time to move on again.

The next time I find somewhere new to live will be in 6 months time. I’ll have trekked through KL, Spain, Portugal, France, New York, Melbourne, Darwin, Sydney, Hong Kong, and mainland China. In that time I’ll whip my dick out, tour manage a circus, re-unite with my estranged wife, run a spiegeltent, turn 30, get paid to throw a weekly champagne performance party looking out across Sydney Harbour, and celebrate NYE in Hong Kong.

Sometimes life can work out just when you need it to.

*SPOILER ALERT: it’s my big hard dick, y’all.

natalyahughes: Installation shots of The After Party, 2011-12....

Tue, 05 Jun 2012 18:23:07 +1000

natalyahughes:

Installation shots of The After Party, 2011-12. Currently on exhibition at QGOMA’s ‘Contemporary Australia: Women’ exhibition, Brisbane. Photo courtesy of QGOMA. Photographer: Natasha Harth.

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Tue, 05 Jun 2012 10:57:21 +1000

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Tue, 05 Jun 2012 08:08:55 +1000

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Tue, 05 Jun 2012 08:06:43 +1000

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Sat, 02 Jun 2012 16:24:13 +1000

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Thu, 31 May 2012 12:43:43 +1000