Wrestling in the Park
This year marks the fourth anniversary since my social world expanded with Queeruptions, an international queer anarchist gathering I helped organise, and the Quueruptions Sex Party, where I met my best friend Sam, and we should just encourage speculation by leaving it at that.
Outside of work and political colleagues, I'd been pretty much a loner before Sam initiated our friendship, and he has proved to me that angels are sent from heaven. We are both irreverent, intellectually curious, adventurous, hedonist, and committed to a broader communal wellbeing. And he does pull a gaggle of very easy on the eye guys with him ; )
It gave me great pleasure to give him my comp to the show I was in at Carriageworks for the Mardi Gras festival, Quick and Dirty. The show was all very avant garde, and I felt a bit pedestrian just singing a song and swanning about a bit when others were doing spectacular costume changes while juggling, gargling tomato sauce, fellating a blow up doll, and critiquing Proust. But the dress rehearsal went so well I was asked to do an additional two nights (I had initially only been booked for one), and massively enjoyed performing a localised version of Walk on the Wild Side as a love song to all of us freaks.
My neighbour Craig was also in the show, as the central aerialist of CircXs, and my old drinking mate Cindy Pastel wrestled the last tear from Ruby Red Dress in a foyer show, and several other friends from the anarchist/freak/arty scene were in the show, and I realised that I have run away and joined the circus, and I am overjoyed to be accepted by carnies, despite my nerdish background.
Icing on the cake was getting the scoop on some Mardi Gras Parade concerns re corporate interference, which made for a timely cartoon in the South Sydney Herald on one of my favourite topics, individual freedom versus obvious or subtle corporate control.
Although I guess one of the highlights of my Gay Mardi Gras season was going out after doing my show to the Carnival of Electric Illusions held in the Spanish quarter, where some of the venue regulars joined the partying queers, but the regulars weren't all straight, and this luscious lad who fancied me as a drag queen but who was happy to adapt to what his groping discovered, took me for a hot roll in Hyde Park, and finally came back to my boudoir so I could stop worrying about the police arresting us for public bonking. He looked just like Dev Patel.
I do alright for an old duck ; )