Perfected :: Her Body :: Greek Necessity :: Deep Throats :: Scrolls

The time of my life ‘Camp’. A film that lives up to its title in all sorts of ways. It’s ‘Fame’, if ‘Fame’ were a gay children’s musical with pop culture references, drag queens and a Sondheim obsession. And who’s to say it isn’t? But that 120 minute film was two summers of my life. Manchester Youth Theatre. This was the first year in decades they haven’t put a show on. By now, everyone would be settled into the UMIST halls, sneaking out after the curfew we didn’t officially have, turning up late and hungover to rehersals, and paying. in. sweat. I was DSM on both shows, ‘Jane Eyre’ at the Royal Exchange Theatre Studio, and ‘The Caucasian Chalk Circle’ (cast and crew name: ‘Corky Chalky’). Even a few years later, if I meet up with the one girl who came up to Edinburgh to study, we can still crack a grin over missed cues, invented dialogue Brecht never even considered, the re-titled ‘As You Fucking Love It You Slag’ (Apologies to one Mr W. Shakespeare). I drove around town on the back of a motorbike, got hot and heavy with one of the male leads whose pulling technique consisted of lending me Monkees album and telling me I was one of the lucky few to be his intellectual equal. I came out to the entire youth theatre two years in row during the get-in, not realising the show relay was on and that the whole Royal Exchange green room could hear me confessing my crush on the director. My sister became proficient enough in sign language to decipher ‘Is your sister a lesbian? Do you think she likes me?’ At 17 I got invited to my first threesome and came within a hair’s breadth of saying yes. We weren’t gay or straight, we were MYT. We went out clubbing to Canal Street every night, queens, fag hags, straight boys and the odd dyke. We shared joints and played guitar until the early hours, I gave tarot readings at request and no-one spoke to Noddy. He was, and still is, my only homophobic Welsh transvestite stalker. I still see Emma, my 2nd year ASM, and the last time we went out, a few weeks ago, Rik was drooling over photos of his new girlfriend in Princeton. Which would have been more effective if I wasn’t prising his hand off my ass. I stomped around in black and exerted my control freak tendancies, we all got pissed and kissed each other. The closest I may ever get to celebrity (other than the hallowed halls of Diaryland, of course) came when I kissed the far more beautiful brother of member of Take That. We still have injokes and cliques are formed whenever more than two of us are in the same room. I could go on. Instead, I’ll curl up and reminisce while the Cabaret cast party in the theatre across the road gets into full swing. ______________________________ we have come so far :: it is over

Accomplishment :: The Moon :: Toga :: Night Flower