I’m buggered. Not literally, just physically. Umm…
First the exhibition opening went over fantastic. As you’ll see from the first entry in the Mardi Gras trilogy I was even successful in selling some of the works – hurrah! I must admit I was even a little surprised; I think I’d became a little too attached and couldn’t see them as anything of great worth, just bits of fabric all stuck together. I felt both humbled and honoured that friends and strangers would think my work was worth owning and displaying. I’ll be very modest when I accept their money (gimme gimme gimme!). But there are still works available so if you are interested, drop me a line.
Actually, the big seller was the t-shirt that I had knocked up for the night. I had made one of my many red tops into a version of “Just Bill”, and I spent the night taking enquiries from people wanting to know where they can get their own. I hadn’t thought about tops, just making the one as a promotional tool, but I’m going to have to think about this now; it’s just that it’s a lot of work.
Tuesday was the Bears Essentials launch, which was an exhausting night. It didn’t help that I got told off for yelling at the bar manager (which I didn’t. I asked her what happened to the bucket that I had fetched from the restaurant for the mailbox and when she told me she’d taken it I asked if I was going to get it back) so frankly I was pretty much over this volunteering gig only a few hours in. At one point, leaning against the traffic guards sipping my umpteenth beer, I couldn’t wait to get back to work.
Wednesday was the Underbear dance (frankly I find all these “bear” names ridiculous – Underbear, Bearmail, Cybear cafe – I feel like I’m trapped in a Saturday morning cartoon) which was a great night, though if I have one more person ask me if I’ve got red pubes it’ll be Glasgow Kiss time. I did start the night by telling the first person to ask me to “go fuck a dog”, I just wasn’t in the mood. It just gets to me; is this the best pick up line they can come up with? It’s all so pathetically obvious. Same sort of thing happened Thursday at the Dinner Dance (nice food, but I think the rest of the planned night was a fizzer), where I was asked does my “colouring” go all over my body, and what’s it like to be a redhead, and told that it must be terrible being a redhead. Of course, I also got the usual “I’ve got a thing for redheads” but I’ve been getting that all my gay life. The thing is – and this is the thing – what am I supposed to say in return? Oh you poor thing, here’s the number of a Support Group you can join? Or: Gosh it must be terrible for you to be only attracted to less than one twentieth of the population? How about: Boy, what a turn on it is for you to say that, let’s go screw in the toilets now? Usually what I settle on is Thank you and a smile and try to change the conversation.
But back to the Underbear party. I did have a great night boogie-ing away (Does anyone still use the verb “to boogie”?), being the last person on the downstairs floor, then heading up and being one of the last upstairs when they turned on the lights at 6. Must admit, was very tired when I got home and was fast asleep by 7, fan on, blinds pulled tight. I finally got up in the very late afternoon to realise the telly was still on and the morning alarm on the laptop was happily buzzing away. But I was still pretty tired, which may be why I didn’t think much of the Dinner Dance. Caught the first bus back to the Flinders Hotel (Harbour City Bears Headquarters) and took off home after half a beer.
Today (Friday) I went back to the Flinders and collected my artworks. While there a couple came up to have a look but I had already wrapped them up. I gave them a card and did my best spruik – they mentioned they were interested in “Chef Bill” who is still available so maybe they’ll call back.
In an hour’s time started the Pool Party, which I’m now in two minds about attending. First, I’m just a bit tired of the whole Bear party thing, but more importantly I woke up on Tuesday with the tingle of a cold sore. After no longer having to concentrate so hard on the canvases my body finally gave in and let the germs invade. Straight on with the Zovirax I bet the disease but it still leaves the lip all chewed up and scabby. So I don’t look all that inviting anyway, but last thing I want is that soggy bloated mangy skin look that you get when a scab gets wet. But it was one of the most fun events of last year, so… perhaps. Afterwards we all gather at Flinders and get horrendously squashed; I think I’ll pass on that.
Tomorrow is the March (it’s not a Parade) and I’m down to help get the float ready (I think this means stringing some coloured lights around a truck), then there’s the picnic followed by the hours of standing around for the parade itself. Last year, as the third last float, the Bear’s didn’t start on the route till sometime around 10.30pm. It was a long day, and hard on the bladder too (eventually decorum gave in and any available doorway became a urinal – call it what you like, when you gotta go, you gotta go). I’m looking forward to doing the March again, it’s an amazing buzz. I’m not attending the party and will probably just head home afterwards. I think the trick is to know when enough is enough and I’m not very good at knowing when is enough.
So only a few more days to go, and why I may occasionally think it, leaning tired against a wall, I don’t think I’m ready to go back to work, not just yet.