MAN ABOUT TOWN

This is my belated post for the Vampire blog-a-thon , created and reanimated by him we call "The Master", but who is known to most as Nathaniel, and whose place of unhallowed rest is The Film Experience . Vampires have long been a symbol of unrestrained and rampant sexuality, both in literature and cinema. Scenes such as those where Dracula's brides accost Jonathan Harker in Transylvania, as described by Bram Stoker in his 1897 novel Dracula , perfectly encapsulate both a Victorian sensibility and a sense of dangerously unrestrained sexuality: "They whispered together, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of waterglasses when played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her on... I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly und...

Quite how it's eventuated I don't know (actually that's a lie, its because the Breakfasters' weren't able to work around her schedule, as far as I know) I'm interviewing none other than the Housewife Superstar herself, Dame Edna Everage tomorrow morning at 3RRR. To say I'm flabbergasted would be an understatement - I'm also awed, jubilant, and rather bloody nervous. Wish me luck, people! As always, suggestions as to pertinent interview questions are always welcome...

Fancy dress. Humphrey Bogart. Empathy and literary friends. A remarkably quick recovery from a charmingly messy evening. Sunshine. Andrew Denton's God On My Side . Remarkable hair. Lucid lunatics. Scripture-spouting puppets. The Rapture Index . End times. A walk through the park. Teenage girls dancing on the lawn beneath the elm trees before collapsing in a giggling heap. The distant drone of an aeroplane. A lazy Sunday afternoon. What's not to like about weekends?

My sister just sent me this. I have no idea if it's real or rigged, but it's kinda cute either way.

I'm pre-recording an interview with the director of SHORTBUS and HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH tomorrow night. Any of you lot got any bright questions you'd like me to ask him?

How would you like to be initimated and harrassed by airport security, just for wearing a t-shirt? That's what happened to Raed Jarrar, a US architect of Iraqi descent back in August. I've only just found out about this incident courtesy of gay blog Debriefing the Boys . Matt's now planning to buy one of these t-shirts in reaction to the incident: I AM NOT A TERRORIST The same company make a couple of other cool designs, such as one that declares the wearer to be an 'Enemy Combatant'. I think it might be time to do a spot of on-line shopping, don't you?

...with Captain Jack Harkness (gay actor John Barrowman), the bisexual, time-travelling rogue who first appeared in the new series of Dr Who written by Queer As Folk creator Russel T Davies. Last night the first episode of the new Dr Who spin-off Torchwood , about the secret organisation led by Captain Jack in modern-day Cardiff, Wales, made its debut in the UK to a record audience of 2.4 million viewers. Isn't he dreamy? ;-)

This video from a Dutch kids' TV show has been doing the rounds for a while, but I finally just found the time to watch it, and found myself crying happily as I did. Yes, it's a touch sacharine, but it's also heartfelt, lovely and beautiful.

Last month I blogged about the brutal bashing and sexual assault of a 60 year old man at Victoria Park, a Ballarat beat. Well, there's been another two attacks with exactly the same modus operandi, with a group of four men attacking another man at Victoria Park, and another only an hour later at Black Hill Lookout last Thursday. This time though, there's some good news. I've just spoken to the Ballarat police, who tell me they've arrested two men aged 18 and 19, and two minors over the assaults. One other offender is still at large. I'll update once I know any more about the outcomes of this story.

Not content with asking you to help me decypher my dreams, now I'd like your help with my weekly club Q + A please, dear Blogsphere. As some of you may know, almost 11 years ago a couple of mates and I set up a club called Queer + Alternative as a reaction to the mainstream gay scene, which never played any of the sorts of bands that we were into. Over a decade later Q + A is still going strong, and this year we've been nominated as one of Melbourne's best weekly clubs in the 'one nighter' category of the annual R a i n b o w Awards. Want to help me stack the voting in the best branch-stacking tradition of any political party you care to name? You do? Hurrah! All you have to do is go here , register, and vote away - I'd also recommend voting for Troy Gurr from MCV in the Media category, and Claire Jackson from the Queer Film Festival in Woman of the Year, but that's entirely up to you. It should only take you a couple of minutes to complete. Remember, a...

Earlier this morning, enjoying a sleep-in on my first day off for a while, I dreamt about these nasty little buggers, the South American fish candiru ( Vandellia cirrhosa ). If you haven't heard of them before, they're a species of fish reputed to be capable of detecting urine in the water, and following to its source. Should that be you, foolishly skinny-dipping in the Amazon and having a piss at the same time, the frolicking candiru them swims up your urethra , imbeds itself in your body courtesy of spines in its gills, and begins to drink your blood. Charming, hey? Sounds rather like a member of the National Party... The point of this post, though folks, is to ask for your assistance in interpreting this dream! What, pray tell, does it all mean? Please make your suggestions below, via the usual comments function. Over to you!

The last two nights have seen me take the phone off the hook, refuse to respond to work-related e-mails, open a couple of bottles of red, and generally relax. Fuck it's been good. I've also launched into my own mini queer film festival, catching up on a couple of DVD's I recently ordered through Amazon, as well as Hedwig and the Angry Inch , which I picked up on DVD on the weekend as a consequence of having seen the stage play recently. It was Donald who urged me to watch the DVD of Hedwig , specifically because of the feature-length 'history of Hedwig' doco that's one of the extras on the disc. Whoooooooo! Talk about excellent - it adds so much more to the film, and having already loved the show, learning more about it was an utter delight. Thanks for the tip, mate. So last night, having watched the doco, I watched the film again too, this time with a new eye for details such as the Titanic mural that's in the background in one scene, and the Riverview Hot...

Thanks to Twitch , I just discovered my new Number One most eagerly anticipated film of summer: the French comedy Poltergay . " It is, no doubt, every young couple's worst nightmare. You move into your new home, a magnificent old mansion, only to discover that - horror of horrors - it is haunted. But not just any old haunting. No, your new home is haunted by the spirits of disco dancing homosexuals from the 1970s." How could this not be excellent? Those of you who are fluent in French will probably want to go to the official site in order to learn more. Why, oh why did I not study harder in Year Eight Language Studies in 1980? Merde!

Woke this morning hangover free after being ridiculously well-behaved at last night's Fringe artists' party, dished the dirt in my Beat column, then headed off to work at MCV , revelling in the fact that I'm back to being the News Editor after a stressful two weeks as Acting Editor. Dappled sunlight shone down through the vivid leaves of the elms in the Fitzroy Gardens. The sky was a deep, clear blue. A handsome shirtless lad driving a ute grinned back at me when I smiled at him at the Hoddle Street traffic lights. I have no committments for the next two nights, and plan to relax, unwind, and start enjoying life again. Ladies and gentlemen, it's officially good to be alive!

At least so says the badge I picked up tonight at the Is Not party - and what a splendid party it was. There were bloggers, poets, designers, radio folks, publishers, editors, madcap dancers, musos, involved discussions about the political subtext of zombie films, newly engaged friends, and a total absence of mysterious, witty and seductive gentlemen making eyes at me. Ah well, you can't have everything I suppose. Probably a good thing too - otherwise I should become jaded.** ** This message brought to you by a 100% totally not jaded Man About Town , who is about to saunter down to a nearby bar and position himself attractively in a corner. Wish me luck - or at least no hangover tomorrow!

I can't recall when I first heard about John Cameron Mitchell's new film, Shortbus . I picked up on vague mutterings about it a year or two ago , but nothing really registered until earlier this year, when the finished film screened at Cannes. That's when the buzz - not to mention the vague sense of moral outrage among some pundits - about this new film from the writer and director of Hedwig and the Angry Inch really caught my attention. Shortbus is the most sexually explicit drama to come out of the USA, and features real sex instead of carefully choreographed simulations. Having advertised for people prepared to have get their gear off - and get off - in front of the camera, Mitchell slowly assembled a cast, and with them, workshoped their characters. Such characters include former child star Jamie (P J DeBoy) and his depressed boyfriend James (Paul Dawson), who are considering opening up their five year relationship to new partners; sex therapist Sofia (Sook-Yin Lee) w...

As in, "a picture says...." Welcome to the state of my head. Please close the door - quietly - on your way out.

Just as we suspect ladies and gentlemen - it's too terrible for words - oh won't someone think of the children?!

Two more shows last night - although I almost didn't go to either of them because soon after I got home from work I burst into tears for no readily apparent reason (general tiredness and stress I think). After sobbing on the couch for half an hour, I roused myself, and started walking to North Melbourne, and was lucky enough to score a lift with Sol, my favourite vet in the world, and Keating! producer extraordinaire Catherine Woodfield from Rathdowne Street onwards. Thanks guys. I then saw some much needed comedy, which cheered me up no end: Stephen K. Amos The Lithuanian Club until Saturday 14 Effortlessly engaging with the audience, the smoothly talented Stephen K Amos seemed to spent most of his time improvising in this show, although I'm suere there was a lot of scripted material in there as well; it was just difficult to tell where it started and stopped, and where the improv took over. I was sitting in the front row, but was very clearly not picked on, as I'd chatte...

Mr Monkey Jedi (no relation to Mr Monkey Punch Dinosaur ) has tagged me. So, in case you don't yet know me well enough... My earliest memory is… My mum hunging out wet sheets on the clothesline when I was about 3 years old, the sheets flapping and billowing against the blue sky. At high school I… hid in the library in order to avoid being bashed up (it didn't work). My first relationship was… not until I was 25. I wish I’d never worn… drag. My mother told me… that Mother's Day was a capitalist plot. I wish I had... the ability to budget and save/a good memory for names/a boyfriend. My most humiliating moment was... my so-called best friend humiliating me in front of a bunch of mates in Year 9 by pouring a bucket of cow shit over me. At home I cook… Cook? I'm sorry, I don't understand this concept. Please explain. My last meal would be… Mum's homemade roast lamb with all the trimmings. I’m very bad at… saying no to new projects. When I was a child… I w...

Several weeks ago fellow blogger D.U.P. suggested I change the name of my blog to 'Man about Town." Given that I didn't really have a name for it at all to begin with (I'd named it after myself, which is pretty lame, really, although in my defense this blog was originally only ever intended as a repository for my journalism, in order to prolong its shelf-life) I can't quite remember why I changed it to 'Watts with Words' a couple of months ago, but that's besides the point. D.U.P.'s suggestion has stuck with me. It's resonated. So much so that a couple of minutes ago I changed the name of my blog. I like the new name. It already feels comfortable, it reflects who I am and what I get up to - not just my work but my infatuation with pleasure and entertainment. Yes, I'm a hedonist, a decadent sybarite, a hopeless homosexualist who's addicted to cultural pursuits. Guilty as charged!

There's something especially annoying about having a cold - or a minor dose of the flu, or whatever virus I have at the moment - when it's such a glorious day outside. I can't help but feel it should be grey, overcast and raining, instead of having all this bright sunshine streaming down. My sinuses are blocked, I have a serious case of the sniffles, and my chest is constricted, making me want to cough all the time. Bleurgh. For the record, can I just say that it's actually quite difficult editing, and paying close attention to detail, when I feel this crap? Why couldn't I get sick next week, after the Fringe Festival is over, and when my boss is back from his holiday? IT'S NOT FAIR! *sulks in corner*

Two more shows seen over the weekend. Rubeville At Northcote's Black Lung Theatre until Sunday October 15 Genius. Sheer bloody genius. That's the best way to describe this insane, hilarious, unsettling and chaotic show, which walks the knife-edge between self-indulgence and deliciously subversive theatre with absolute perfection. Imagine George Clooney as a feverish con-artist, instructing his bumbling-yet-disturbing sidekick on the best way to run a scam, and both of them infatuated (for radically different reasons) with the junkie prostitute who will shortly OD in their living room. Now imagine dirt-smeared performers baring their buttocks at the audience; actors breaking out of character to complain about their limited and cliched roles; loud arguments with the band who also appear on stage; and a television set that pours wine into proffered cups. That's the world of Rubeville - the single most subversive and enjoyable show I've seen in this year's Fringe Festi...

It's been a difficult week. Not just emotionally , although obviously that's part of it. Work has been stressful, as I'm filling in for my boss, and I've also slightly over-committed to Fringe this year, being a dramaturge-mentor for the Outside Eye program as well as a Judge in the performance category. Then there's all the other crap that's been going on. Like the comments made by this woman, for instance: "Hello, I'm a rabid ideologue. Do you like my conservative attire? And aren't my 1950's-esque pearls simply to die for? Actually, a third world labourer probably did , while diving for them. Ahah-ha-ha!" In case you don't recognise her, that's Federal Education Minister Julie Bishop , who tried to justify the Federal government taking over the state-based curricula currently being taught in Australian schools on the basis that some of what was being taught in our class rooms was coming "straight from Chairman Mao" ...

After crawling out of bed at 8.30am, feeling fluey, I spent three hours this morning finishing my notes for a two hour performance writing workshop I was due to run this afternoon at Gasworks . Then I negotiated public transport, disruptions caused by the Melbourne Marathon (it's all your fault, DUP !) and my general sense of bleurgh-ness, only to arrive at Gasworks to discover that only one of the three people who'd actually booked for my workshop had shown up - and she was also sick, and was thinking about going home! Not surprisingly, the workshop was cancelled. I was mildy peeved, as you might imagine, given the work I'd put into planning it. Oh well - at least I got out into the spring sunshine for a few hours, and on my grumpy way home I found time to drop into ACCA to check out Gillian Wearing's retrospective exhibition. It's superb; a revelatory examination of human nature through the media of video and photography. Looking at her work, I was reminded of thi...

This week on my show, I spoke with: Kevin Brennan , from the Arts Industry Council of Victoria , about a campaign to encourage the reptilian Attorney General Phillip Ruddock to accept the Australian Law reform Commission's recommendations regarding Australia's badly conceived Sedition Act 2005. Nick Jumura , a New Yorker, about his Fringe production Atriptick for Ghosts . Simmone Howell , author of the new Young Adult novel Notes from the Teenage Underground . Di Fleming , director of lab.3000 , about State of Design , on now until October 14. We found out all about Contention or Consensus , a national symposium about public art hosted by Gasworks Arts Park . Next up was Turner Prize -winning artist Gillian Wearing , the subject of a major survey by the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art , called Living Proof . Pictured above is an image from her 1992-93 series Signs that Say What You Want Them To Say, and Not Signs that Say What Someone Else Wants You To Say. Jo Case, de...

Due to work being so hectic this week, I've been unable to see much at the festival since Sunday, but made up for that last night by catching three shows in a row. For two of them, I had the esteemed and always enjoyable company of my dear friend Lisa Greenaway, a writer and sometime- performance partner (and also the editor of The Program , an Australia Council-sponsored arts portal for da yoof). We enjoyed a couple of drinks, some superb calamari, and our usual sparkling conversation. Afterwards, I retired to my couch with a glass of red and a book - Notes from the Teenage Underground , the debut Young Adult novel by Melbourne author, screenplay writer and excellent human being, Simmone Howell . Now, on with the reviews! The Nightmare Heap At Bar Open, Fitzroy until Saturday 7th October Staging a play above a bar is no easy matter, and congratulations to Wit of the Stairs, the company who mounted this independent theatrical production, for inventively using the limited space the...

Reasons not to blog when drunk #276. Clearly I was in a crap mood last night. Now I'm just hungover. Owwwwwwww.

Thanks to Mike , I'm currently listening to several new tracks by a band I adore: The Decemberists . Even though it's 4.20am, and I'm drunk and tired after DJ'ing at Q + A tonight, I'm loving the tracks I'm listening too. I wonder how long it will be before the album's released locally? If you check out Mike's blog, he not only talks about The Crane Wife , The Decemberist's new album, but provides links so that you can listen to several of the key tracks from it yourself. So, thanks Mike. But simultaneously, I have to say, upfront, that I'm incredibly jealous of you. I've been single since May 2000, following the spectacular disintegration of my last major relationship. Since then there's been a succession of one night/hour stands, a few briefs flings, and a handful of awkward and unconsumated crushes, but nothing lasting, enriching, or significant. Last week Mike met a new bloke at Q + A, and the two of them have been spending almost ...

Although I had grand intentions of seeing at least four more Fringe shows this week, life keeps throwing obstacles in my way; some welcome, others definitely not. It's been a busier week than usual work-wise, as my editor Troy Gurr is having his first holiday in several years. That means I'm acting editor of MCV this week and next week, which while a fantastic opportunity to learn more about the paper's production, could not have come at a worse possible time. It's the middle of Fringe for god's sake; all I want to be doing is seeing shows and viewing exhibitions , not editing real estate features and proof-reading PDF's before they go to the printers! Still, the extra money will definitely come in handly, and as I say, it's a great learning opportunity. Monday night, after leaving the office, I went off to meet up with a spoken word choir who I'm acting as a dramaturge for, through the Fringe's new Outside Eye program. In previous years Fringe has...

The City of Melbourne announced yesterday afternoon that the Big Day Out has finally secured a site for its Melbourne leg. The lack of an available venue had put the touring musical juggernaut in danger of having to miss Melbourne altogether. Last night the City of Melbourne's planning committee approved Princess Park as the BDO venue - which is great news from my point of view; I thought it was a fantastic venue for the event this year. Due to redevelopments, the showgrounds are not available. Lord Mayor John So said that Council had tried to accommodate everyone affected by this proposal. “The Big Day Out is a terrific youth culture event that attracts up to 40,000 people with the majority in the 16 to 26 age group,” the Lord Mayor said. “If organisers cannot find a venue, Melbourne might lose this youth event. Princes Park is the only possible venue for 2007. The event will be staged at Flemington Racecourse from 2008. Woo-hoo!

Three more shows yesterday: Me Time North Melbourne Town Hall until Saturday 14 October Two naked German tourists in a Bangkok spa bath have a circular discussion about love, death, fantasy and genocide. This almost perfectly realised production by 'Angus Bart' and 'Lucian Cuthbertson' is definitely one of the most accomplished shows I've seen at the Fringe so far. A dry, discordant and unsettling play that goes nowhere, but which is fascinating in its trivial minutiea. A strange, ridiculousmus comedy. Mule North Melbourne Town Hall until October 6 Comedians Chris Kennett (RRR's The Pinch) and Tim Harris have done something new for Fringe this year: instead of writing a comedy show, they've written a play. There's a strong vein of humour running through the piece, but it's a very mordant humour. There's also an exploration of some dark contemporary themes. A simple two hander with a set consisting of two chairs, Mule is set in an Indonesian pris...

After crawling out of bed late on Saturday afternoon, thereby unfortunately missing DavetheScots's housewarming party, I slowly put my brain back together, retraced my movements after leaving the festival club, and vowed never again to allow myself to be waylaid by the thought of 'just one quick nightcap' at a bar close to home... Then I threw myself back into the thick of things. Autogeddon by Heathcote Williams Northcote Town Hall until Thursday October 12 Somewhere inside this ambitious, sprawling, 90-minute production about the impact of car culture on our planet, there's a sharp, incisive 30- 45 minute play waiting to come out. An excellent series of vignettes presenting such characters as an animated pair of crash-test dummies (excellent physical comedy by Corey Corbet and Simon Kearney) and the beautifully realised and very menacing Oil-Ogarchy pigs, with their swaying, petrol-bowser penises, could not save this laboured piece of theatre. The flat singing and un...

Part one of a series of briefs comments about the shows I've seen at this year's Fringe Festival... Thursday 28th September Fringe Furniture : the SM bed and chair were definitely highlights. Overall though I can't help but feel the event has lost some of its magic since moving from the Fitzroy Town Hall to the more sterile confines of the Melbourne Museum. This year's theme of 'Go for Baroque' would, I'd hoped, inspire some truly creative entries, but the sensible and slick still dominates... Friday 29th September Festival Club Opening Night, North Melbourne Town Hall : a superb night's entertainment at the Festival Hub : I had my photo taken in a booth with a complete stranger, courtesy of the Melbourne Photobooth Project , an awkwardly intimate and unique experience; Admired some excellent artworks created by students from NMIT in Picturesque , including the coolest bowling pins you will ever see, and a series of works reinterpreting Russian dolls;...