I am the passenger
And I ride and I ride
I ride through the city’s backside
I see the stars come out of the sky
Yeah, they’re bright in a hollow sky
You know it looks so good tonight
I am the passenger
I stay under glass
I look through my window so bright
I see the stars come out tonight
I see the bright and hollow sky
Over the city’s a rip in the sky
And everything looks good tonight...
Tuesday, 8 July 2008
The Passenger
Weekend
I’ve been off work ill today. I survived by not eating anything, and managed to lose 5 pounds in the process – so it’s not all bad.
Anyway, I was planning an outfit (in my head) of what to wear on Friday, and I suddenly thought: I can’t WAIT until Friday. Oh my goodness, I’m totally living for the weekend again. I’ve not been this excited to go out all the time since I was a teenager. It’s great. I’ve got a cool bunch of friends who are happy to go out and get wasted every weekend, and who I love spending time with. They all give good copy too (step forward James and Nina)!
After being temporarily heartbroken last weekend (I’ve mended since then), my plan for this weekend is to pull a 19 year old to see if I can, heh heh.
Suggested listening:
Anyway, I was planning an outfit (in my head) of what to wear on Friday, and I suddenly thought: I can’t WAIT until Friday. Oh my goodness, I’m totally living for the weekend again. I’ve not been this excited to go out all the time since I was a teenager. It’s great. I’ve got a cool bunch of friends who are happy to go out and get wasted every weekend, and who I love spending time with. They all give good copy too (step forward James and Nina)!
After being temporarily heartbroken last weekend (I’ve mended since then), my plan for this weekend is to pull a 19 year old to see if I can, heh heh.
Suggested listening:
Monday, 7 July 2008
Gingerbread
As part of my fierce advertising campaign (advertising Andrew Craig Williams as a writer), I will be releasing a novella this autumn (or as soon as I've finished writing it anyway, I'm having terrible trouble with the ending - I'm not sure whether to make a happy ending or a horrible ending like real fairytales have). Releasing for free like you’d release an EP, with a launch party and everything. It’s called The Gingerbread Man, and it’s a gay re-imagining of the familiar fairytale. I was inspired not only by my love of fairytales, but by a short story written by Poppy Z. Brite in her collection of short stories Self-Made Man. Her story King of Cats (written with David Ferguson) is a gay version of a favourite fairytale of theirs – The Miller’s Son.
With this in mind, I rewrote The Gingerbread Man. Here is an extract:
Christian hardly noticed the dressing boys running after him like headless chickens, trying to get him to wear clothes they had chosen, each one vying for the Prince’s attention. For the first time, he actually stopped and looked at them; they were no different from him at that age, when he first started noticing Carl. For the first time Christian allowed himself the pleasure of having five young men at hand to do his bidding, he was sure they would do anything he wanted of them. He asked one of the boys to go to the kitchen to fetch him some tea, while he lay back on his day bed considering the possibilities. His mind wandered more than his eyes, as he gazed over at one particularly handsome boy named William. William glanced up and caught the Prince looking at him; he flushed red and dropped the tunics he was carrying. Christian sprang to his feet to help the young boy, who immediately dropped the tunics he had already gathered.
“Let me help you, William.” said Christian kindly.
“No need, sir,” he stammered in reply, “’t was my own fault.” Christian’s hand brushed William’s forearm as they both bent to pick up the remaining tunics. The dressing boy shuddered at the Prince’s touch, and looked fearfully into his dark eyes. Christian felt a sudden sickness at how he was behaving; he was no better than Carl - treating another person as a plaything for his own amusement. He took a deep breath and smiled warmly at William, who seemed to relax, and smiled back shyly at him.
“Thank you.” said the Prince sincerely - sure that William did not really know what he was thanking him for, and swept away a stray lock of curly blonde hair that had fallen into the boys’ eye, curling his fingers behind Williams’ ear. The boy Christian had sent to fetch tea returned laden with a tray of tea and hot water, and a delicate porcelain teacup and saucer.
“Right then!” he shouted, “Let’s get ready to go to the ball. You will all be my guests.” Christian smiled openly at the hubbub that broke out with his statement, and William dropped his tunics all over again.
“William,” he began, smiling again at how embarrassed the boy became when he spoke directly to him, “what is the time, my good man?”
“Um, nearly two of the clock, sir.” managed William quietly.
“Excellent!” exclaimed the Prince, “that means we have time for some tea, and I would like to talk to you.” The boys looked around at each other at a loss for words, each one staring at his companions as if for inspiration. Christian went to a cupboard set against the far wall, and drew out a green and gold tea set. “Come, I will serve tea myself,” said Christian, ignoring the protests of his servants, “Jack, Owen,” began the Prince, “I am in a wicked mood, lock the doors for me.”
“But, sir…” began Owen fearfully, “what if they come looking for us?”
“Then they shall have me to answer to. I ask that the doors be locked, and locked they shall be.” he laughed. Owen and Jack moved to the doors but stopped short when they heard a messenger stride purposefully up the corridor. Christian bounded over and turned the large, ornate key with a flourish - then held his finger to his lips and whispered,
“A silver piece to he who can keep the most silent.” the boys giggled at his request, but the Prince’s wicked mood was strangely infectious.
The door handles turned once, twice, then a stately knocking burst forth. William was bent double with silent laughter, and all the occupants of the lavish room had large grins on their faces. A voice called,
“Prince Christian?” then more urgently, “Prince Christian, are you there? Your father desires to speak with you.” a few seconds of silence, then they heard the footsteps fall away out of hearing. The room fairly exploded with giggles, and Christian was delighted. He let out a great huff of air, and sat down to make the tea.
Christian had always been told never to speak to the servants unless he needed assistance, or had a message to be sent to another part of the castle. Speaking with these boys was refreshing and interesting, a pastime he wished he had discovered a long time ago. He learned of Owen’s fear of swimming, and how his mother had tried to teach him to swim in the lake away to the North of the castle; how Jack had kissed Miriam the milkmaid twice in the orchard, and was hoping to make it a third tonight. He was told how Caleb loved nothing more than a handful of coloured chalk, and an empty wall as a canvas; how Dan could sing like a bird and held concerts every Friday in the servant’s quarters. He was thrilled to hear all of this, but saddened that William did not join in.
“William,” asked the Prince, turning towards the reddening boy, “you have not told us a tale yet.”
“I don’t think I’d like to, sir.” he stuttered, furrowing his eyebrows at the jeers from his friends.
“But William, if you are to be a dinner guest of mine, I should at least know something about you. How old are you?”
“Sixteen, sir.” he said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Wil, that’s a lie,” hissed Jack; William’s face glowed even harder. “He’s my cousin, sir, and he’s fourteen.”
“Please don’t be angry, sir. I has to work, I has to.” began William pleadingly.
“William, your secret is safe with me,” said the Prince, to Williams’ obvious relief. He leaned into Williams’ ear and said, “all of them.” The boy’s face fell, but Christian winked hugely at him, and he smiled limply.
Barely an hour had passed before the boys got agitated and worried that they would receive tellings off, so Christian allowed them to finish their work before they got ready to come to the ball with him.
“It will be a sport, I shall introduce you as a troop of artistes.”
“But sir, what will we wear? These clothes are not fit for a ball, sir.” began Caleb.
“Caleb, my dear boy, I have a wardrobe full to bursting with fine clothes. You are not that much smaller then me. Let’s go and try them on.” the Prince looped his arm into Caleb’s and dragged him to the wardrobe. He flung the doors wide and heard the boys gasp at the variety of colours and fabrics inside, “Help yourselves, lads, and you may keep whatever you choose, Mother always buys too many garments.” at a look of shock on their faces, he continued, “As a thank you, for this afternoon, I have enjoyed your company and wish you all well. Come, let’s make haste so we may enjoy the ball tonight.”
The boys fairly attacked the pretty silks and velvets, each new tunic or shirt made them coo in awe. After much frantic scrabbling, the boys all had their outfits ready. Jack in a pale green suit, Caleb in a wine coloured robe and breeches, Dan in the most royal blue garb they could find, Owen had chosen plush orange attire with a red cape and boots, William stood quietly with his black suit over his shoulder. Christian smiled at them and hurried them out of the rooms back to get ready for the coming festivities.
With this in mind, I rewrote The Gingerbread Man. Here is an extract:
Christian hardly noticed the dressing boys running after him like headless chickens, trying to get him to wear clothes they had chosen, each one vying for the Prince’s attention. For the first time, he actually stopped and looked at them; they were no different from him at that age, when he first started noticing Carl. For the first time Christian allowed himself the pleasure of having five young men at hand to do his bidding, he was sure they would do anything he wanted of them. He asked one of the boys to go to the kitchen to fetch him some tea, while he lay back on his day bed considering the possibilities. His mind wandered more than his eyes, as he gazed over at one particularly handsome boy named William. William glanced up and caught the Prince looking at him; he flushed red and dropped the tunics he was carrying. Christian sprang to his feet to help the young boy, who immediately dropped the tunics he had already gathered.
“Let me help you, William.” said Christian kindly.
“No need, sir,” he stammered in reply, “’t was my own fault.” Christian’s hand brushed William’s forearm as they both bent to pick up the remaining tunics. The dressing boy shuddered at the Prince’s touch, and looked fearfully into his dark eyes. Christian felt a sudden sickness at how he was behaving; he was no better than Carl - treating another person as a plaything for his own amusement. He took a deep breath and smiled warmly at William, who seemed to relax, and smiled back shyly at him.
“Thank you.” said the Prince sincerely - sure that William did not really know what he was thanking him for, and swept away a stray lock of curly blonde hair that had fallen into the boys’ eye, curling his fingers behind Williams’ ear. The boy Christian had sent to fetch tea returned laden with a tray of tea and hot water, and a delicate porcelain teacup and saucer.
“Right then!” he shouted, “Let’s get ready to go to the ball. You will all be my guests.” Christian smiled openly at the hubbub that broke out with his statement, and William dropped his tunics all over again.
“William,” he began, smiling again at how embarrassed the boy became when he spoke directly to him, “what is the time, my good man?”
“Um, nearly two of the clock, sir.” managed William quietly.
“Excellent!” exclaimed the Prince, “that means we have time for some tea, and I would like to talk to you.” The boys looked around at each other at a loss for words, each one staring at his companions as if for inspiration. Christian went to a cupboard set against the far wall, and drew out a green and gold tea set. “Come, I will serve tea myself,” said Christian, ignoring the protests of his servants, “Jack, Owen,” began the Prince, “I am in a wicked mood, lock the doors for me.”
“But, sir…” began Owen fearfully, “what if they come looking for us?”
“Then they shall have me to answer to. I ask that the doors be locked, and locked they shall be.” he laughed. Owen and Jack moved to the doors but stopped short when they heard a messenger stride purposefully up the corridor. Christian bounded over and turned the large, ornate key with a flourish - then held his finger to his lips and whispered,
“A silver piece to he who can keep the most silent.” the boys giggled at his request, but the Prince’s wicked mood was strangely infectious.
The door handles turned once, twice, then a stately knocking burst forth. William was bent double with silent laughter, and all the occupants of the lavish room had large grins on their faces. A voice called,
“Prince Christian?” then more urgently, “Prince Christian, are you there? Your father desires to speak with you.” a few seconds of silence, then they heard the footsteps fall away out of hearing. The room fairly exploded with giggles, and Christian was delighted. He let out a great huff of air, and sat down to make the tea.
Christian had always been told never to speak to the servants unless he needed assistance, or had a message to be sent to another part of the castle. Speaking with these boys was refreshing and interesting, a pastime he wished he had discovered a long time ago. He learned of Owen’s fear of swimming, and how his mother had tried to teach him to swim in the lake away to the North of the castle; how Jack had kissed Miriam the milkmaid twice in the orchard, and was hoping to make it a third tonight. He was told how Caleb loved nothing more than a handful of coloured chalk, and an empty wall as a canvas; how Dan could sing like a bird and held concerts every Friday in the servant’s quarters. He was thrilled to hear all of this, but saddened that William did not join in.
“William,” asked the Prince, turning towards the reddening boy, “you have not told us a tale yet.”
“I don’t think I’d like to, sir.” he stuttered, furrowing his eyebrows at the jeers from his friends.
“But William, if you are to be a dinner guest of mine, I should at least know something about you. How old are you?”
“Sixteen, sir.” he said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Wil, that’s a lie,” hissed Jack; William’s face glowed even harder. “He’s my cousin, sir, and he’s fourteen.”
“Please don’t be angry, sir. I has to work, I has to.” began William pleadingly.
“William, your secret is safe with me,” said the Prince, to Williams’ obvious relief. He leaned into Williams’ ear and said, “all of them.” The boy’s face fell, but Christian winked hugely at him, and he smiled limply.
Barely an hour had passed before the boys got agitated and worried that they would receive tellings off, so Christian allowed them to finish their work before they got ready to come to the ball with him.
“It will be a sport, I shall introduce you as a troop of artistes.”
“But sir, what will we wear? These clothes are not fit for a ball, sir.” began Caleb.
“Caleb, my dear boy, I have a wardrobe full to bursting with fine clothes. You are not that much smaller then me. Let’s go and try them on.” the Prince looped his arm into Caleb’s and dragged him to the wardrobe. He flung the doors wide and heard the boys gasp at the variety of colours and fabrics inside, “Help yourselves, lads, and you may keep whatever you choose, Mother always buys too many garments.” at a look of shock on their faces, he continued, “As a thank you, for this afternoon, I have enjoyed your company and wish you all well. Come, let’s make haste so we may enjoy the ball tonight.”
The boys fairly attacked the pretty silks and velvets, each new tunic or shirt made them coo in awe. After much frantic scrabbling, the boys all had their outfits ready. Jack in a pale green suit, Caleb in a wine coloured robe and breeches, Dan in the most royal blue garb they could find, Owen had chosen plush orange attire with a red cape and boots, William stood quietly with his black suit over his shoulder. Christian smiled at them and hurried them out of the rooms back to get ready for the coming festivities.
Wig in a Box
I can't get this song out of my head; and it makes me feel better to boot. Win-win situation!
"I put on some make-up
turn up the eight-track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm this punk rock star
of stage and screen
and I ain't never
I'm never turning back"
"I put on some make-up
turn up the eight-track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm this punk rock star
of stage and screen
and I ain't never
I'm never turning back"
Sunday, 6 July 2008
Hysterical anagram site
I just asked this site a question, and the answer was:
"Boyishly maimed weekly idiot."
I laughed so hard I think a bit of wee came out!
The question was to do with pulling boys (blush).
sternestmeanings.com
"Boyishly maimed weekly idiot."
I laughed so hard I think a bit of wee came out!
The question was to do with pulling boys (blush).
sternestmeanings.com
Hobart Paving
And baby, (don't forget to catch me.)
Don't forget to catch me, (don't forget to catch me)
Don't forget to catch me, (don't forget to catch me)
Don't forget to catch me. (don't forget to catch me)
Oh no, no sugar tonight, (don't forget to catch me)
Oh no, no sugar tonight, (don't forget to catch me)
No no, no sugar tonight, (don't forget to catch me)
Don't forget to catch me...
Lonnie (cut up)
Eyes staring not caring
smoking in it's time to smile again. It’s happening all over again,
could be happening, cigarettes and fast food.
Taxi not from the other.
It's happening all over again.
Blue the rain, paid for again.
Thanks, I'm listening.
You said, believe me,
but leave me over again,
but it's home from home.
smoking in it's time to smile again. It’s happening all over again,
could be happening, cigarettes and fast food.
Taxi not from the other.
It's happening all over again.
Blue the rain, paid for again.
Thanks, I'm listening.
You said, believe me,
but leave me over again,
but it's home from home.
Window
I’m watching the clouds moving;
reflected in the open windows of the house across the road,
TV screens showing white noise.
A window opens and scatters the cotton wool
revealing blue like the colour of his eyes.
reflected in the open windows of the house across the road,
TV screens showing white noise.
A window opens and scatters the cotton wool
revealing blue like the colour of his eyes.
Thursday, 3 July 2008
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
Dacw Mam yn dwad
My Mamgu used to sing this to me when I was a dwt, and because we have always called her 'Mam', I thought the song was about her coming over the stile on Garnswllt mountain where her and my Datcu used to live on a farm called Graig Fawr. Even my nephews (aged 12 and 14) call her 'Mam Graig Fawr' - the other one is called 'Mam Llanelli' for obvious reasons, or 'Bonkers Mam'. Also obvious.
Dacw Mam yn dwad ar ben y gamfa wen
Rhywbeth yn ei ffedog a phiser ar ei phen
Y fuwch yn y beudy yn brefu am y llo
A’r llo’r ochr arall yn chwarae jim cro
Jim cro crystyn one two four
A’r mochyn bach yn eistedd mor ddel ar y stôl
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
Ethan Hawke makes me tingle
I used to have a huge crush on skinny little Ethan, and on the husband list he's defo in the top ten. I flicked through the tv channels earlier tonight and watched ten minutes of Gattaca, and I remembered someone I'd not thought about for a long time.
When I was in sixth form, there was a boy a year or two younger than me who bore a striking resemblance to Ethan Hawke, and I had a bit of a crush on him. My friend Nerys pulled him one night, and I was gutted (blush).
So anyway, I remembered his name earlier when Gattaca was on, so I facebooked him... Man Alive! He's still really beautiful, and now married and has two kids. But not with Nerys.
When I was in sixth form, there was a boy a year or two younger than me who bore a striking resemblance to Ethan Hawke, and I had a bit of a crush on him. My friend Nerys pulled him one night, and I was gutted (blush).
So anyway, I remembered his name earlier when Gattaca was on, so I facebooked him... Man Alive! He's still really beautiful, and now married and has two kids. But not with Nerys.
Hello world
My optimism has come back, all thanks to a haircut and a clean shave. I've even started playing my ukulele every day again. There's something about playing old Leadbelly songs on uke that can't help but plaster a big smile across my chops.
All together now... tell me where did you sleep last night?
All together now... tell me where did you sleep last night?
Character questionnaire
I found this questionnaire online, to help you get to know the characters you write about. I’ve answered this one for my favourite character Geraint.
• What is your character’s name? Does the character have a nickname?
His name is Geraint Hopkins. Lots of people just call him ‘Hopkins’, or ‘Hoppers’.
• What is your character’s hair colour? Eye colour?
Brown hair and brown eyes.
• What kind of distinguishing facial features does your character have?
His nose is quite big.
• Does your character have a birthmark? Where is it? What about scars? How did he get them?
Her has a hernia scar, and has cut scars on his wrist.
• Who are your character’s friends and family? Who does he surround himself with? Who are the people your character is closest to? Who does he wish he were closest to?
His two best friends are Nathalie and Rosie, but Rosie has moved to Australia. He doesn’t really get on with his parents, who are separated. But he is quite close to his older brother who lives away with his wife and kids.
• Where was your character born? Where has he lived since then? Where does he call home?
He is from Llanelli originally, but now lives in Cardiff.
• Where does your character go when he’s angry?
Shouts. He is very loud.
• What is his biggest fear? Who has he told this to? Who would he never tell this to? Why?
Dying alone. His best friends know this but that’s all. He should never tell this to his boyfriends as when he does they always leave him.
• Does he have a secret?
He fancies a straight boy named Emyr that he went to school with!
• What makes your character laugh out loud?
Talking rubbish with his mates, they are like his family and he needs them to survive. Possible the relationship he has with them is too cloying. His friend Nathalie moved to Cardiff to be with him.
• When has your character been in love? Had a broken heart?
He has been in love only once, but had his heart broken many times.
• What is your character’s name? Does the character have a nickname?
His name is Geraint Hopkins. Lots of people just call him ‘Hopkins’, or ‘Hoppers’.
• What is your character’s hair colour? Eye colour?
Brown hair and brown eyes.
• What kind of distinguishing facial features does your character have?
His nose is quite big.
• Does your character have a birthmark? Where is it? What about scars? How did he get them?
Her has a hernia scar, and has cut scars on his wrist.
• Who are your character’s friends and family? Who does he surround himself with? Who are the people your character is closest to? Who does he wish he were closest to?
His two best friends are Nathalie and Rosie, but Rosie has moved to Australia. He doesn’t really get on with his parents, who are separated. But he is quite close to his older brother who lives away with his wife and kids.
• Where was your character born? Where has he lived since then? Where does he call home?
He is from Llanelli originally, but now lives in Cardiff.
• Where does your character go when he’s angry?
Shouts. He is very loud.
• What is his biggest fear? Who has he told this to? Who would he never tell this to? Why?
Dying alone. His best friends know this but that’s all. He should never tell this to his boyfriends as when he does they always leave him.
• Does he have a secret?
He fancies a straight boy named Emyr that he went to school with!
• What makes your character laugh out loud?
Talking rubbish with his mates, they are like his family and he needs them to survive. Possible the relationship he has with them is too cloying. His friend Nathalie moved to Cardiff to be with him.
• When has your character been in love? Had a broken heart?
He has been in love only once, but had his heart broken many times.
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