Your blogger has been feeling somewhat icky and blah for a few days, so I decided to look at cheesy clips on You Tube in an effort to live my spirits. I'm not sure if they lifted my spirits or arose my gorge. I seem to have gravitated towards the gayest film clips ever today, and I didn't even go anywhere near The Village People. I had a bit of a look at the Bowie/Jagger collaboration 'Dancing In The Street'. I recall it's maiden airing at the 1985 Live Aid concert, and the 'big thing' about this clip, technically speaking, was the clever editing and splicing: Bowie and Jagger were never 'together' during the filming. What stands out - aside from Jagger's hideous mullet - is the campiness. It's not as campy as that beach volley ball scene in 'Top Gun', which has a palpable air of homoeroticism in it. I think the producers wanted to appeal to the ladies by promoting the beefcake factor with all the oiled pecs and biceps, but the plan kind of went awry. By the way, who's the twerp with the awful porn moustache who keeps whining, 'One more game'?
From this, having decided in for a penny/in for a pound, I decided to check out a very naff guilty pleasure of mine - 'Life At The Outpost' by Skatt Bros. It was out when I was 14 and I don't think I really 'got it' back then. Now, at 50, I kind of do. I laughed watching the buff oiled specimens in jeans and cowboy hats strutting and chanting that a cowboy man's 'gonna love ya hard as he can!' I'm starting to see possibilities for 'Brokeback Mountain: The Musical'. Maybe I will invest if anybody wants to stage this; it might earn me a nest egg.
Anyway, it's my day off and I'm deciding what to do. I might go to the gym. I might crawl back to bed. Tomorrow, I am planning to take my children to my home town for its annual 'Festival of the Fleeces'. The highlight will be a parade with the running of the sheep down the main street. Never mind Pamplona's Running of the Bulls - Merriwa's Running of the Sheep shits all over it. Also, there is less chance of someone being gored by a frightened animal. The first parade was held in 1991, and it was actually led by my father. He donned his Akubra and an oilskin raincoat, and rode a horse down the main street. Soon after it was time for the running of the sheep. Everybody was agog and atwitter with anticipation. In due course, the woolly ones came sprinting down the road, to much amusement from the crowd. Some of you probably know sheep are not reknowned for being free spirits. Where one goes, the others follow. The sheep at the front decided to not follow the planned route to the showground. Instead, it turned and ran back up the road. The others followed suit, leaving organisers stunned. They stopped at the Anzac Cenotaph, and just ran laps in a circle. From a distance, it was just blobs of wool spinning like a lanolin soaked whirlpool, or a fleecy Coriolis cyclone. It was incredibly funny.Anyway, as daggy (ahem!) as it is, I'm looking forward to it.
Last night at writer's group I read from my upcoming novel. It's in the edit queue at the publishing house, but if you're interested in my other works, click the links on this blog. Please.
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