It’s Sunday and
my day has already been made by the production of an egg. After all the weeks
of death and carnage surrounding the coop it was a sight as welcome as February
daffodils. Patti has been crouching submissively recently which I've observed is usually the sign
of transition from girl to woman in chicken circles so I suspect it to be her work. I transported
the oval treasure to the kitchen, still warm, and poached it immediately. Little
things make all the difference it seems.
'Lightning
Strikes’ has just shuffled and seems apt in light of the exchange with ‘M’ last
night. 
I suspect nothing will come of it as he’s already gone to ground. A few months will now pass and then I’ll randomly receive a picture he’s taken in the toilet during his lunch break. This is the pattern but last night’s dialogue had an altogether different character so what does that mean? Only time will tell but ‘M’ is one of those souls who found his way in and cushioned my heart for a few weeks at least. Once you’ve loved someone, it never goes away. However hard you try.
Listen to me, baby, you got to
understand
You're old enough to learn the makings
of a man.Listen to me, baby, it's time to settle down.
Am I asking too much for you to stick around?
Lightning's striking again! Lightning's striking again!
Lightning's striking again! Lightning's striking again!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gma5IUNMTn0
Klaus Nomi was
one of those wonderfully eccentric performers who grace the world periodically.
Of Bavarian descent he landed in the NYC underground in the 1970s where he
crossed paths with David Bowie. Lightnin’
Strikes was a US # 1 for Lou Christie in 1965 so one can only speculate on
how Klaus came to record it but I love his version. Sadly Klaus never achieved
the same giddy heights of fame and succumbed to AIDS in August 1983. So many
mavericks were lost in those dark days and one can only speculate on the
landscape that would now exist if they’d stayed with us.
I love this clip of
Bowie performing ‘TVC15’ flanked by Klaus and NYC performance artist Joey Arias
on Saturday Night Live. It’s one of the many TV performances Bowie has given
over the years which I’m sure have bemused and inspired in equal measure. Lord
knows what America’s viewing public thought J
And here’s the
wonderful Joey Arias looking a million dollars and talking about that
performance at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London on the 28
October 2011.
'M’ and I met
online and as he was coming to Pride we swapped numbers. He had travelled from
Watford and we agreed to meet by the Wild Fruit tent. It was like getting three
pears on a slot machine and I was immediately drawn to his lithe, olive
skinned, brown eyed swagger. However, he seemed pretty uninterested and after
ten minutes of awkward conversation we said our goodbyes. A text revealed that
he was in fact very interested and we arranged to reconvene outside the
Ranelagh on St James’s Street where the agenda switched to frisky flirtation.
It wasn’t long before we were being driven east by my angel Amanda who had
chaperoned me that day. I won’t go into sordid details but the 24 hours that
followed was punctuated by laughter, music and lots of sex. My strongest
recollection is of lying entwined with my hand on his firm belly as I drifted
in and out of blissful sleep.
35 years ago today Marc Bolan died when the mini his wife Gloria Jones was driving hit a Sycamore tree. He died instantly two weeks before his 30th birthday. All the great and good of the day attended his funeral including his biggest rival David Bowie. The two had met early in their respective careers and became lifelong friends. They once shared the same manager and Bowie recollects that the pair would scour the dustbins of Carnaby Street for discarded clothes before fame struck. I was a fan of Bolan before I discovered Bowie and in many respects he set the scene for the thin white duke to sweep all before him. My love of Bolan peaked with the single Metal Guru which if memory serves entered the chart at #1 during the summer of 1972. That year my mother had saved the princely sum of £50 to allow me to go on a two week school cruise of the Mediterranean and the song transports me back to a stormy night sailing through the Bay of Biscay. I remember dancing to the song with my first ‘girlfriend’ Karen Tansley whilst the ship pitched up and down like a bucking horse. We were in our moment and oblivious to the piles of vomit and discarded sick bags that littered the scene. Later that night we crept out and found a quiet spot behind a winch on the deck so that we could be alone. I remember like it was yesterday feeling her tiny budding breasts and trying to kiss her before being interrupted by the probing torch of gym teacher Mr Henderson. No probing for me that night J
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfjAEWHrFvo
Metal
guru, is it you?
Metal
guru, is it you?
Sitting
there in your armour plated chair
Metal
guru, is it true?
Metal
guru, is it true?All alone without a telephone
Metal guru could it be
You're
gonna bring my baby to me
She'll
be wild you know
A
rock 'n' roll child
Just like a silver-studded sabre-tooth dream
I'll
be clean you know
Pollution
machine
I was in a London
pub the night Marc died and I remember being very dismissive at the time. Of
course as the years have passed I’ve learnt the errors of my ways and realised
what an amazing performer and writer he was. This clip is from
the TV show Marc which was recorded just weeks before he died. Bowie had
appeared on the programme to sing Heroes and they played out the show together.
RIP Marc Bolan.
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