Two friends of mine (with two other people I don’t know) edited GASPP: a Gay Anthology of Singapore Poetry and Prose, so I thought I’d pimp it here. Proceeds from its sale go to the Counselling and Care Centre, a non-governmental, non-profit agency offering psychological counselling services and training for mental health and social services professionals, so that’s nice.

Okay, you got me. I’m all for supporting good causes, but actually the real reason I mentioned this here is to show you the best autograph I have got in a book since Neil Gaiman drew me a rat:

Taken with a phonecam, terrible milk shake pun honestly unintended at the time of the photo but totally intended now.


Gay’s The Word, the last gay and lesbian bookstore in the UK, is in financial difficulties (rising rent, losing out to chain booksellers etc.) and trying to raise money. Unlike the people quoted in this article I can’t pretend it had any profound influence on my life. However, when I lived across the road from it, the sight of it cheered me up on gloomy days, and it was a very convenient landmark for directing people to our flat. Also, given that I now live in a country where the main gay equality lobby group gets rejected every time it applies to be registered as a society, gay sex remains a crime on the statute books and bafflingly idiotic articles (well shredded by Jol here) about how gay porn marginalizes gay men can get printed in our national broadsheet, it is nice to be reminded that other parts of the world are not like this. If one of my London friends feels like popping the price of a pint on my behalf into whatever donation box I assume the shop has, I’ll pay you back when I see you in May. :)

Pussy Cat Pussy Cat Where Have You Been?

The London Lesbian & Gay Film Festival starts today, and here’s what you’re missing if you’re somewhere else:

  • The Fall Of Communism As Seen In Gay Pornography
  • How To Make Lesbian Porn: Instruction With Video Clips
  • Annie Sprinkle’s Amazing World Of Orgasm (featuring, among others, “a midwife who experienced orgasms through childbirth”)


Youngest Fag Hag In The World

My two oldest guy friends are Ken and Roy. (Well, I had a good friend called Cavan Wee in kindergarten, but we lost touch once we entered primary school. Email me if you ever read this, Cavan!) We all lived in the same condo. I spent countless hours of my childhood with them.

Last night, the following exchange of text messages took place:
Ken (Think I deleted this message, so I’m paraphrasing): Am at Mox now and you’ll never guess who I’ve just run into. Roy! He’s gay and out!
Me: My childhood just got a lot weirder.
Ken: He says you’ve been a fag hag since five.
Me: When we were kids I was totally more manly than you guys.
Ken: We agree.
Me: Our repeated viewings of Ms Universe are easily understood now. Less easy are our SMALL METAL PLANE MODEL BEAUTY PAGEANTS…ask him to explain.

(You can read Ken’s account here.)

It is somewhat ironic, in hindsight, that at our condo playground neither of them dared to slide down the pole.

They Should Have Achtunged, Baby

Other notable snippets from the weekend include overhearing the Columbian priest staying in my hall discussing terrorism in his country – “Oh, the FARC, it is terrible…” – sorry, childish, I know, and Mark’s (see entry for Monday, 13 May) references to my metaphysical chastity belt when discussing the Channel 4 documentary on Nazi homophobia.

The boy continues to misunderstand. My point, flippantly made, was that surely shagging while you are an NS soldier in Nazi Germany meant to be on duty patrolling the forest, is a dereliction of duty whoever or whatever you’re shagging, especially if you are supposed to be devoting your entire being to serving the Fuhrer rather than servicing Lieutenant Bigschtaff. But enough said on the topic. Mark’s just a slag. :P

The Gayometer Has Spoken

So if Alec is 43% gay and Mark is only 40%, this makes my boyfriend even more of a raging queen than Her Majesty during the annus horribilis. Oh well. At least he cooks and cleans.