tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86787573217767686462012-02-16T20:32:32.564-08:00Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.comBlogger151100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-85090652714041585842010-07-20T09:06:00.000-07:002010-07-27T05:43:16.840-07:00

Male Drag/Female Drag: A DifferenceIt is important to establish the difference between a gay man dragging up as a female on the mainstream gay scene and gay men exhibiting what may be termed ‘male drag’ on the bear scene. Female drag, whether it forms part of a staged performance or is simply an outfit for a night on the town, is primarily about being noticed, about standing out. There may be, as

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-238256399442158082009-12-22T06:08:00.000-08:002009-12-22T06:12:49.731-08:00

Draco Malfoy would totes get it. I don't care what insults and accusations that assertion earns me, I'm not ashamed to admit it. He's hot. And whilst his sneering and pouting in his school uniform is enough to fuel the masturbatory fantasies of slashers the world over, for many it's even more appealing to imagine Draco getting hot and heavy with his heroic archenemy, Harry Potter. Some might

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-85544030897558973742009-12-21T13:27:00.000-08:002010-01-12T02:50:22.854-08:00

“The rich diversity of the bear community has become telescoped into a narrow range of images, which nowadays is defining us. But it is misleading to mistake the beautiful icons for the rich diversity of our reality. As gay youth encounter an increasingly stratified and commercialized gay social hierarchy, more nowadays are coming out as bear. They still seek a home community where they can be

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-50358366276004167352009-06-08T14:33:00.000-07:002009-06-08T14:38:46.979-07:00

Playground ShockThe newspaper rustled as I struggled to stop my hands shaking. It was late 1962, I was 13. I had opened it in the boys’ playground, expecting to turn to the cartoons. Instead, the headline screamed out at me “How to Spot a Homo”. My God, now everybody will know. If they read the article it’ll be total public humiliation and prison for the rest of my life. I was torn between

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-349727965142973482009-05-08T11:12:00.000-07:002009-05-08T11:14:23.838-07:00

In all good places.

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-56726915650173380692009-05-08T11:10:00.000-07:002009-05-08T11:12:23.720-07:00

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-56256058913280043822009-05-07T00:32:00.000-07:002009-12-22T06:21:02.534-08:00

Brighton is in a bubble. LIVING IN BRIGHTON IS LIKE LIVING IN A BUBBLE. A lovely morphine bliss, candy floss coated bubble. It is a place where LGBT, “alternative” people and environmentalists can live in an location where there are other like-minded people, where they are not going to get deeply questioned in a negative way about their life “choices” – an environment where they are positively

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-82994332030069034152009-04-27T07:20:00.000-07:002009-12-22T06:21:39.348-08:00

"Would I Ever Get Out?"My whole body stiffened as she pressed herself against me. “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “Just pretend I’m your fag hag… pretend I’m a transsexual.” But I was worried. There was no mistaking what we were: a heterosexual couple. If I wasn’t careful people would notice. They’d put two and two together – I was already getting funny looks. Soon everyone would know my

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-66720263139426311742009-04-27T07:06:00.000-07:002009-04-27T07:07:29.145-07:00

I recently moved back to Leeds after a year spent in scummy Sheffield, and I actually can’t describe how good it feels. I try to, but each time I do I start tripping out that I’m at the end of a ridiculously feel-good 80s movie. ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’ by Simple Minds starts playing in my mind. My hands, previously poised over the keyboard, ball into the fists and I involuntarily punch the

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-51386962653629544582009-04-27T07:05:00.000-07:002009-04-27T07:06:14.728-07:00

Kirk and Spock. Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed. Starsky and Hutch. The entire male cast of Top Gun. It’s no secret that close male/male friendship has formed the cornerstone of Western film and television narrative. These were guys who would bond and stay bonded through thick and thin, frequently casting off the cloying attentions of female suitors to stick by each other (as Starsky and/or Hutch

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-12964426778985444842009-04-27T07:03:00.001-07:002009-04-27T07:04:25.850-07:00

When I was younger, I was like. I am sooo gay. I wasn’t a person. I was A gay. I made jokes with my friends about how their tops looked good because they showed their cleavage. We flirted, I made it so everyone knew. I got attention from it and that made me feel special. I was their token. I felt accepted. And I felt so happy that I could finally let that part of myself out. I love them still,

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-45234651439810867882009-04-27T04:22:00.000-07:002009-04-27T04:23:31.618-07:00

Never has anyone come closer to articulating the true experience of psychotropica-induced confusion as poor old Syd Barret. While his peers in mid-60s London and San Francisco attempted to capture their mind-bending drug experiences by inventing dull-as-pig-muck prog rock, Syd wrote simple, daft songs about bikes and gnomes, transvestite thieves, aunts on the game, and cats in league with Satan.

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-91297055649920963232009-04-27T04:15:00.000-07:002009-04-27T04:22:21.281-07:00

As Glam Rock emerged in a gush of tinselly amniotic fluid at the start of the 70s, Bowie was widely regarded to be the mercurial intellectual of the scene, in contrast to Marc Bolan’s amiable court jester. Thus, Bowie sung songs about aliens, madness, murky sexual practices and having sex. In Space. With an alien. He also wrote songs about other outsider artistic figures, such as Rimbaud and

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-11353148594413925632009-04-27T04:14:00.001-07:002009-04-27T08:06:09.371-07:00

In 2008 Word magazine coined the term ‘landfill indie’ to describe the depressing state of affairs in UK guitar music. Bands like Scouting for Girls and the Wombats, charm-deficient, gormless oiks to a Cro-Magnon man, have been lining record company coffers with an endless stream of indie so bland, characterless and turgid it’s not so much meat-and-potatoes as sicked up Pot Noodle.Now that the

Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09632209321096947775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8678757321776768646.post-30857041916424248832009-04-27T03:49:00.000-07:002009-04-27T03:54:49.613-07:00

Following on from the success of the BBC show ‘The Speaker’ it was inevitable that imitations would soon find their way into our TV schedules. Sure enough, just weeks later Sky1 were to land themselves their very own version and the search for ‘The Squeaker’ was to begin.Whereas ‘The Speaker’ was an attempt to find the UK’s most eloquent and persuasive orator, this new show was an attempt to find

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