Word-whore. I write 'em. I talk 'em. Information, politics, media, and the cybers. I drink. I use bad words. All publication is a political act. All communication is propaganda. All art is pornography. All business is personal. All hail Eris! Vive les poissons rouges sauvages!
’Pong has started Songlines, an intensive workshop with film school Metro Screen which will result in “your personal audio/visual Sydney Songline.” ’Pong sent them his Anywhere Chairs series as part of his application. Somehow that went down well in Cloverland. But they’re starting the creative process back at the beginning…
I was very pleased to receive a framed print of this image from ’Pong for my birthday yesterday. There was also a lengthy dinner at Fifi’s Lebanese restaurant and then The Duke Hotel — and that’s why there’s very little to say today.
Yesterday, 6 May 2007, ’Pong and I celebrated our 6th anniversary — though this is a family publication so I can’t explain how we celebrated, exactly. Just congratulate us, people, and leave the details be!
Six years makes it our Iron Anniversary — but no, Snarky Platypus, I did not buy ’Pong an iron!
As an aside, check out this list of wedding anniversaries. [Update 7 March 2015: This link seems to have been broken for years, so you’ll have to take my word for it.]
Sure, the traditional ones are there, like paper for the first anniversary, cotton for 2 years, through iron for 6 to the familiar silver for 25 and gold for 50 and so on. But whoever wrote the “modern” gift suggestions is clearly on weirder drugs than I am…
“Desk sets” for the 7th anniversary? “Musical instruments” for 24th? “Conveyances (e.g. automobiles)” for 32nd? “Original poetry tribute” for 46th? And the one which takes the biscuit for me: can you actually imagine someone celebrating 42 years of wedded bliss with their “Improved Real Estate Anniversary”?
How embarrassing. The image we posted yesterday wasn’t actually the photo which won ’Pong the prize. This one is.
’Pong has also updated his blog entry to include links to the other winners — though he’s too modest to mention that he also scored an honourable mention in the “Most collectible” category, which was won by that Billy Law bloke I’ve written about before and before that.
What a night! ’Pong wins a prize with implications far beyond its monetary value, we experience a fantastic seafood restaurant we’d previously ignored, and… well… I’ll tell you about The Rowdy Boys Incident in another post.
’Pong and I are standing on the balcony at Sydney nightclub Arq, looking down at the continuing awards ceremony. Nearby someone asks whether the women currently on stage are “the lesbian singers” he’s seen before.
“What’s a lesbian singer?” I ponder aloud in a stage whisper. “Is that like a horse whisperer?”
’Pong glares, unimpressed. His energy levels are low, he’s not in the mood. My friend Nate, not exactly what you’d call the shy retiring type, has encouraged my heckling of the drag queens hosting the event, and ’Pong and Nate’s boyfriend Chris have both been uncomfortable.
Then another loud stage whisper emerges from a leather-clad bear standing on the other side. “No,” he says, “That would be a fish whisperer.”
The bear’s boyfriend’s eyes catch ’Pong and Chris, “Oh no, here we go again,” they seem to say. Strangers bond, wishing they could disown their partners.
Later, ’Pong takes me aside to explain that he’s exhausted, that he’s having trouble focussing on what he needs to do tonight. He’s trying to make a good impression on important people, and my rowdy mood isn’t appreciated.
And just as he finishes that speech, Nate bounces up my side, eyes wide with child-like excitement, proudly brandishing a bunch of green tickets. “Look! More free drink vouchers!”