Finger OnThe Pulse

I am guilty. Guilty of not checking up on the Pink Singers' website regularly. But I met up with Nathalina, our super new webmaster, last night and was compelled to have a look. What a great job she's doing! She has most recently posted the official event report for Helsinki and our performance with Out 'n Loud (i.e. not the Pink Insider's view). This one comes courtesy of Mikki, and is particularly significant, because it was her first trip overseas with the Pinkies. Head on over for her experience of our visit to Finland, and while you're there take a peek at the official photos too.

World AIDS Day

As you are no doubt aware, World AIDS Day this year is on the 1st of December. As is now traditional for us, we will be helping to support Positive Rainbow and the good work they do in North London by giving a little performance at their annual party tomorrow. If you are interested in coming along, the good news is that it is free, and we will be singing two or three numbers from this season's repertoire, at the moment they are ABBA Pink and You'll Never Walk Alone, although if pressed we can pull Come What May out of the bag. The even better news is that the "small" group is much larger than in previous years, and we actually have basses this time, so Johnathon won't have to do double duty. Anyway, here are the details:

7.30 pm
28 November 2007
Positive Rainbow
White Hart pub
51 The Hale
Tottenham Hale
London, N17 9JZ

See you there!

So They Say

This Sunday's rehearsal was in the wonderfully lit hall at the top of the Space. The venue is cavernous, and the late autumn light gave the room a real grandeur, even if you ignore the sprung floors. The recurring issue appears to be with the chairs, or lack thereof, but it sure beats the old system where we had to lug the fold-ups from the basement ourselves. It does mean a bit of a delay, and the poor basses and altos spent a quarter of the rehearsal squatting (see picture, especially of Nath's glamorous silver boots).

As for the rehearsal proper, we ran through most of the repertoire for Paris and some for the winter concert too, performing most of the pieces twice. The first run-through always sounds a little ropey as we settle into the song, but Mladen has taken to making us sing the second one without the sheet music, which brings problems of its own, especially when it comes to the lyrics. Humming Dies Irae to myself several times a day has actually helped to overcome my aversion to it, and I have to say the choir performs it really well now, with a real feeling of aggression with a steady build up to that wonderful orgasm at the end. Under two weeks to go till Paris, so just in time too!

After the rehearsal we went to the pub as usual and a bunch of us then joined Philip G for his birthday celebration at Savoir Faire near the British Museum. Conversation flowed freely and the company was, as always, exceptional. It was great to see "resting" Pinkies there like Ritchie and Iain, and even better to see that some newbies came along too. I sat diagonally opposite Amy, one of the new altos who was summarily pulled away from me by Susan when they went off to karaoke somewhere on Frith Street at the end of the evening. Must speak to her more, she seems totally lovely.

All Hail The Hypnotoad!

Good news everyone! Futurama is back! This has got to be one of my all time favourite TV series, very clever, very funny and with just the right touch of pathos and unrequited love. Awww... Instead of the normal series, however, the show is to be released in four two-hour-long straight to DVD movies. The first is called Bender's Big Score (you have got to love a show with a cigar smoking robot called Bender) and I hear that if you know where to look for it, you can already get it on-line... Of course being a true fan, you would download the torrent and then buy the DVD when it comes out, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you!?!

Bearfaced Cheek!

On Tuesday Liang and I went down to the Terracotta Army exhibition currently showing at the British Museum. Really impressive stuff and well worth seeing. However, my rather frivolous take home message was that most of the warriors from over 2,000 years ago have exactly the same facial hair pattern as me: try as I might I simply cannot grow a beard.

My current beard-jealousy stems from being surrounded by such lovely growths on the faces of my friends John and Celso. Hell, last week Simon showed up at my flat with a week of hair growth and looked damn fine. I can see how such hirstutism can become a bit of a fetish, and even Vogue says that beards are back.

Unfortunately I am blessed/cursed with an almost pathological alopecia so whatever the vagaries of fashion I have just one look. Sigh...

Rainbow Springfield, Grim Up North

I don't really watch all that much television, preferring to spend my time probing the nether regions of the worldwide web, but this week has been a bit of an exception. For one, I've taken to recording the Simpsons on Channel 4, because, after what feels like a decade, they are finally broadcasting episodes I have not seen a million times before. Wednesday's episode began with the Springfield gay parade, with a float from the Steelworkers of America, and one called Keepin' In The Closet featuring none other than Smithers and Patty (Marge's sister).

The Simpsons always makes me laugh, but continuing on the gay theme, and attacking the same themes of being gay, in the closet, and a blue collar worker in a much grittier style, was the third episode of the second season of The Street on BBC One last night. This one was about a Mancunian construction worker Charlie (a very grizzly and double-eye-bagged Vincent Regan) falling for his colleague Tom (a buff and tattooed Will Mellor). The story itself wasn't about their relationship, but the how Charlie loses control as he tells lie upon lie to cover his secret. There isn't really a happy ending as the fallout is pretty awful from both his family (yes, he is married with two children) and the community at large, but at least when he does come out, the honesty is far less wretched than the hiding. Charlie does eventually stay with Roz, his wife, but the closing image is of her watching him go off to a job from their living room window, with this incredible look of regret.

I have two very good gay friends who are/were married. The first is someone I have known for a very long time, and while we came out together as teenagers, he elected to settle down as an adult with a very lovely woman. This is perhaps a more modern relationship, in that she is fully aware of his past, and I can see that the two of them are very happy together and great friends. In the end, gender is perhaps not the issue, but companionship.

My other friend did in the end leave his wife, but maintains a very close and healthy relationship with her and his children. He has since gone on to remarry (another guy in a similar position) and their super extended family is a source of incredible warmth and love. It takes a huge amount of courage to make this kind of leap, but I have seen that it does not necessarily lead to tragedy.

Hairless Bitches

Johnathon emailed a link yesterday to a page in the London Paper called the Columnist. It is a guest article with writers who change from week to week, and it just so happens that this week it was written by a gay “39-year old banker”. Hmmm. You can almost see where this is heading.

The gist of his argument, inelegantly presented in a rant, is that he hates it when people live up to stereotypes, in particular the prancing, shaven, luvvy image conveyed by certain sections of the gay community. It is interesting how he prefaces his verbal stream of consciousness with a statement that he is all for diversity, before single-handedly dismantling any claim to reasonable thought.

Yet, stripping off the offensive words, is there a kernel of truth? I worry that some of what he is trying to say resonates somewhat even with liberal ol' me. What I have often discovered, however, is that in the wise old words of Yoda "fear leads to hate". That is, if I dislike something it is because, for some reason, I fear it.

So let's break it down. I remember feeling uncomfortable around a similarly outrageous friend of mine. We were at university and he invited me down to his flat in London for a night out to celebrate his birthday. He was always a live wire, but the time away from home meant that he could really experiment. That night all sorts of chemicals were inhaled, before my friend changed into his sequinned g-string worn under a tartan miniskirt, before heading out to the clubs. I have always been more of a Gap dresser, so in my button-down Oxford and chinos we certainly made an odd couple on the tube. He of course had no problems with the way he looked, but I felt more than a little self-conscious sitting by him. I really didn't understand why he needed to buy into that whole "camp gay" persona.

The reality is that I was not comfortable enough in my own sexuality to cope with being in close proximity to him; that (oh noes!) other people might think that all gay men behave like that, or worse that other people might think that I behave like that!

So the problem was not with my friend, but with me.

London has one of the most diverse gay scenes in the universe. On a night out in Soho it is easy to be misled that the gay community only consists of twinks, bears, muscle marys and whatever group current terminology has a description for. But there are many, and arguably larger, groups for which no label exists and that includes those gay men who are not image-driven and therefore meld seamlessly into the background of humanity which is this great city. I'm thinking of the majority of the members of the Front Runners for example.

The really good news is that whether you subscribe to a label or not, none of these groups is exclusive. Even better, when you are in a social group like the Pink Singers, you'll find that everyone mingles with everyone else without any preconceptions. My experience of gay men in London does not jibe at all with the columnist's.

If, in the end if this 39-year old banker hates "faggy duchesses" then he really needs to ask himself why he feels insecure about them, and then he really needs to get out more!

P.S. The picture of the hairless bitch accompanying this post is in fact a Chinese crested dog, the most famous of which is Halston, Amanda's dog in Ugly Betty. Hey, I too can be a faggy duchess!

A Few Changes And An Invitation

If you have been visiting my little blog over the last few days you will notice that I have made a few changes. Apart from the banner which is now animated, I have syndicated the RSS feed through Feedburner. It is now even easier to subscribe to - just have a look at the Subscribe To Me! section in the column to your right. If you find the whole RSS business a little too confusing, then you can even get an email whenever the blog is updated. You will get no more than one email a day, so don't worry! While you're in that right hand column you can also get a sneak listen to one of my favourite tracks from our CD Hand In Hand, and perhaps even buy a copy?

I also wanted to say that although it appears that there is just one Pink Insider, there are in fact three at present who are contributing their thoughts of being in the Pink Singers to In The Pink(ies). If you are a Pinkie and want to share your (unofficial but positive) experiences with our readers, then please feel free to let me know and I will add you to the contributors.