Brain thoughts on life outside my head

August 4, 2008

There are things I want to write about at length but I don’t think this is the time. I’m still gathering my thoughts and it’s better not to be rushed. Something that has annoyed me this weekend is how hard it is to find a play showing that isn’t a cheesy musical. Musicals are like Heinz Beanz – the finest of beans, beloved by millions, and yet still just beans and not much good without toast.

I am planning to write more about gender disparity as I keep reading things that bring me back to similar ideas. As I was writing this I wondered if that also contributed to the view of musicals. The stereotypical view is that musicals are for women and gay men – feminine with bright colours and emotions. Real Theatre(TM) is serious, involves real acting and possibly ‘shakespearean actors’ – in short the highest form of the art. Musicals are on everywhere and run for decades, but are rarely regarded as high-art. They are more likely to be the lowest common denominator, the¬†trashy beach novel¬†of the stage. They may make the money but they are not respected in the same way. How did this lead to the less respectable musicals becoming the arena of women and queers and high art theatre being seen as more masculine?

I don’t know but I am annoyed, both because I want to watch a serious play and because I enjoy musicals. I’m sure I can even name more musicals that plays – is that wrong? Or just a reflection of our popular culture?

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Self-loathing

June 11, 2008

It’s easy and a very dirty habit. I have not had the courage to tell Housefolk Epsilon that I don’t want to live with him any more. I hate creating tension. In fact I hate interacting with HE in any way, which is kind of why I don’t want to live with him. Last night, when Relocation Revisitation was on he mentioned that he’s seen a great house in this out of town suburb he is desperate to move to. I don’t believe the house is for real because it sounds way too cheap for the area. I also refuse to move to that suburb because it is really far away from the city centre (sort of its own town) and all I know about it is that it’s extremely middle class so probably has terrible transport links and everything will be over-priced. It also sickens me because HE once described it as a ‘bastion of whiteness’ whereas I would prefer to pay a little less and not give a crap about the colour of my neighbours.

I hate myself for not calling him on his racism. It is awful, and I do all I can to avoid being anywhere near him in public places but I’m too much of a pussy to call him on it. I’m a strange one in that I tend to only bring smackdowns on my friends, such as when one of the guys said something about not needing ‘gay hypnotism tactics’ and I told him about my vision of the gay tactics lab team working away on their latest hypnotism techniques. In my experience of gay people there aren’t many secret groups like this. The word just jars in my head when people use it in the wrong context like that so I often tell them in the hope that they’ll think about the words they use (or just annoy them into not doing it anymore).

Still, that’s not a very good comparison because the guy who says ‘gay’ is not a homophobe he just has slack language use. Housefolk Epsilon is a deliberate racist. I don’t know why either. I could be he grew up in an incredibly white area. Or that he had prejudiced parents. Or that a person of an ethnic minority did something that hurt him once. Or that he has an inferiority complex so feels the need to class vast sections of society beneath himself, including women, people of colour and queers. Or he’s a massive dumbfuck. Or all of the above.

I used to go out with a guy who gradually revealed himself to be racist. He was also a pig to me and cheated on me several times, so let’s call him an all round bad person. One thing that really gets to me still is that when I phoned him after being mugged in the street and physically attacked the first thing he asked me was ‘was he black?’ Not was I ok or had I called the police yet or anything like that – he was just that keen to get another little anecdote for his arsenal of hate. I wish I had put the phone down on him then and called it quits, I could have saved myself a year of degredation and humiliation, not to mention all the self-loathing afterwards when I realised what a shit he was and what an idiot I must have looked for so long.

Why are so many young people in the UK racist? I don’t understand what excuse they have…