Wednesday, 30 April 2008

Beatrice 'Bea' Miles (1902-1973) - Wealthy Sydney Eccentric Individualist, Bohemian and Free Thinker

Bea Miles (at 29) after a Swim at Coogee, a Sydney Ocean Suburb

'I am an atheist, a true thinker and speaker. I cannot stand or endure the priggery, caddery, snobbery, smuggery, hypocricy, lies, flattery, compliments, praise, jealousy, envy, pretense, conventional speech and behaviour upon which society is based.'
To a Sydney Morning Herald journalist, 2nd June 1965

It has been claimed that, in pre-World War One Sydney, Bea Miles was more famous than the prime minister. Her fame was as an eccentric individualist, bohemian and iconoclast.

She has always appealed to me - super big time. And yesterday I began wondering whether it was cos she was out of the mainstream, as gay guys can be. Or whether my interest was a more personal thing - cos I am or have been at times just the tiniest bit eccentric. I have the creeping feeling that this is going to be one of those posts where I reveal more about myself than I am in fact intending at this very moment!

So first let me tell you some stuff about Bea Miles. And make some parallels with my own life.

Bea held views and moved in social circles that were generally not considered those of the wealthy conservative middle class to which she belonged.

For example, she took her father's pro-aboriginal and anti-British stance.

And the pacifist position, considering 'religion was the cause of so many wars and so much misery'. At 12, she wore a non-conscription badge at a rally during the Conscription Referendum of World War One. And described the Gallipoli Campaign as a 'strategic blunder' long before this interpretation was widely adopted.


Now my family is also a pretty conservative bunch - my father was a surgeon and later Head of Medical Services for a large maternity hospital in Melbourne, nine of his uncles were doctors and all my mother's brothers and sisters were. The dreaded matriarch was an economist. All were aligned to the conservative side of politics and their platforms. The matriarch once famously complained about a trade union protest march for higher wages down one of the main streets of the city, wondering why the marchers couldn't do it in the botanical gardens where they wouldn't get in anyone's way! Kinda missed the point!

Not me! When I first went to uni, I took philosophy, English, French and Fine Art - very bad indeed. And got involved in radical sexual politics - broadcasting on 'Gaywaves' radio, writing crabby articles in dissenting faggoty journals and strenuously protest marching - much much worse!!!

Bea was the friend of artists, writers and intellectuals, at the time not necessarily thought of a suitable milieu for someone of her social standing.


As I was too. My first boyfriend/lover/whatever (what IS the right word?) was a Sicilian sculptor - I was 14. Best friends were all artists, musicians and ... drag queens and transsexuals. I remember the first drag queen's dressing room table I ever saw - strewn with more bottles of nail polish, wigs, sequins, false finger nails, bangles, rings, feathers, fishnet stockings, perfume bottles ... than you could ever imagine could possibly fit onto a 4 by 2 surface.

Bea Miles's personal eccentricity was legendary.

Though well-off and independent through an inheritance from her paternal grandmother, she lived like a bum for many years in a drain in the inner Sydney Rushcutters Bay, not far from me.

And loved riding on the bumper bars, running boards and bonnets of cabs/taxis ...


... often refusing to pay the fare. Though not from need - she did pay a taxi driver 600 pounds to take her to Perth to study wildflowers, a journey of 2500 miles. A great wad of one pound notes stuck through with a safety pin fastened to the inside of her jacket.

She was very well-known as a soapbox orator with often controversial views, such as the advocacy of free sex. And as a public reciter of 'great' literature - in a green tennis shade, tennis shoes and a scruffy greatcoat, she would walk around the streets, with a sign around her neck advertising her 'wares' and their rates ...


Bea Miles was a great patriot - enrolled in arts at the University of Sydney, but stopped after a year 'because they did not teach enough Australian stuff'. But reading was essential for her - consuming three books a day in the State Public Library ... before being banned, as you would expect.

Ok, now to a potpourri of my eccentricities.

At school I would breed white mice in my book locker - and sell the off-spring to eager classmates ... only to be discovered when large parts of my geometry book were destroyed by my furry friends in maternal nest making frenzy. I thought this exhibited the approved capitalist tendencies the school was trying to instill - the masters thought otherwise!

I filled my notebooks with drawings of naked men - mainly sucking and fucking stuff, as I recall. There was more than mild consternation when one of these explosive little volumes got into the hands of a group of school super butches.

As a teenager at the height of summer, I used to go to our yacht club dances wearing a thick white polo neck jumper, bright red jeans and white patent leather shoes - and reveled in the obvious discomfort of the startled members.

When I was 18, I inherited from my grandfather - and spent much of my twenties traveling round the world - through Asia, Russia and the Eastern Block countries, and Europe and the Middle East. The best investment I ever made in my life, and certainly the best prerequisite for university. But not the conventional route.

Later in life, Bea Miles abandoned her atheism and was received into the Roman Catholic Church.


I wonder what I'll do later on in this respect - Buddhism is more likely!

Bea Miles died in 1973. Her coffin was strewn with the Australian wildflowers she loved and, at her request, her coffin inscribed with the following quotation from Shakespeare's 'Measure for Measure' ...

Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing that none but fools would keep

I have not tried to compete in any way - it's just that Bea and I seem to be in a very similar space. Or so it seems to me. And her life is one with which I strongly empathy!
James Pica or Chet Wozniak - Variegated Fur

Variegated (Two Tone) Leaves

Remember James Pica aka Chet Wozniak?


Well, I was taking a closer look at him, as you do ...



... and realized he has the most beautifully variegated fur!

Graded from real dark in his bush round the base of his dick and up his trail. To nearly blond on the front of his thighs.

And that (for me) is what makes his crotch so fucking hot! Well, one of the things.
Celebrating the Approach of the Two Millionth Visitor?

With the 2,000,000 visitor mile stone approaching, it seems to me there should be some sort of 'prize', like those for the millionth car crossing a bridge or the ten millionth person climbing the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower.

Perhaps all the photos of the blog compiled onto a DVD?

Or a date and rabid unending sex with a Blog Icon of your choice? And the video of the whole thing.

What do you think? Any other suggestions?
Nelo Gonclaves - A Reprise

I did a post of Nelo Conclaves a while back. He looked quite picture perfect there, in a 'Stately Homes and Gardens' kinda way. You just intuitively know he is about to say 'Jeeves will shortly serve the thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches'.


But in this new set. Nelo seems a tad more in a 'Tug and Jerk Magazine' mode. Which is a good thing! And he's learned some crowd-pleasing porn star moves for this more low brow psychic reconstruction!






And he jerks and cums now! Cos there's only so much sexual excitement you can whip up lying regally on a 'chaise longue'.





And he's picked up the approved 'rub it all over my tummy and look pleased with myself' final move.

A nice juicy little load, eh! I'm half way down onto my knees. No, three quarters!

Monday, 28 April 2008

James Marsden and Scott Speedman - The Kiss

You know that heart jolt when you see an actor you find supremely erotically beautiful having a gay screen kiss. And the wild synergy of TWO of your supreme actor hotties pashing.

So for me, it was James Marsden ...


... and Scott Speedman ...


... about to 'do' it in 'The 24th Day'.


In an interview, James Marsden said

'Before we had this kiss scene, the other actor and I had a talk and said "The worst thing we could do is to do it 50%, so let's just fucking do it and be in the moment and be these guys." Did I get off on it? No, but you know what? If I kiss a girl in a movie, I don't really get off on that either, because you've got 10,000 people and a camera pointing at you and you're worried about what your next line is.'

James has played a gay guy in three or four movies ... but he has a wife and two kids so don't go any where with all this guys!

Thursday, 24 April 2008

Great Urban Cakes and Madame La Guillotine

'Marie Antoinette' (2006) directed by Sofia Coppola and Starring Kirsten Dunst

I've been lying in bed, unable to sleep. And for reasons I'm sure I'd never be able to fathom, I began thinking of Marie Antoinette's famous (or rather infamous) response to hearing that the poor in C18 France had no bread to eat - 'Let them eat cake' ('Qu'ils mangent de la brioche'). Ignoring the obvious disparity between 'cake' and 'brioche', the comment was supposed to reveal her complete ignorance of the desperate conditions of the time.

Marie Antoinette by Vigee Le Brun (1783)

I had the momentary thought that the queen might have been trying to say something in English which, with her strong Austrian accent, was taken for more of her ungrammatical French - 'Le temps est que'. If read slowly with different breaks it becomes 'Let them eat cake'. Haw haw!

However, the phrase was probably a re-working of something said 100 years earlier by Marie Therese d'Autriche (1638-83), wife of Louis XIV. As Jean-Jacques Rousseau says in his autobiographical 'Confessions' (1770) 'At length I recollected the thoughtless saying of a great princess, who, on being informed that the country people had no bread, replied, "Then let them eat pastry!". The remark would then have been appropriated by detractors to discredit the later queen.

In this context, Sofia Coppola's 2006 film about Marie Antoinette is an attempt at a sympathetic reconstruction of the life of the C18 aristocrat. The opening scene shows Kirsten Dunst, as Marie Antoinette, in very serious cake mode. And must raise more than an ironic laugh.

And makes me realize I how much more I prefer the great urban culinary myth, which gives a greater justification for Marie Antoinette's grisly encounter with 'Madame La Guillotine' in 1793.


Now if this post has touched and you need a constant reminder of it, the Archie McPhee 'Marie Antoinette Action Figure' is a must.



Complete with 'ejector head' it's the perfect way to end parties when your guests seem a bit too lingering!

But seriously, sometimes we (tho maybe it's just me) like to live with our long-held illusions and are quite resistant to their re-examination. Like a comfortable pair of old gym shoes or sneakers. Or that favorite old faded tee-shirt in which you've picked up the hottest guys you've ever slept with.

I haven't seen the Sofia Coppola film yet but will and am hoping to approach it with an open mind. Having listened to my own advice in this post.

And thinking about it, perhaps the real difficulty is letting go of a story that is soooooooooo memorable! Cos it conjures up such wicked images. Like the opening one of this post!
Breck Fucks Logan (PS This is NOT Breck Orshal's Online Fanclub!)

What really gets me in is Breck Orshal's big soft fleshy muscularity.


And his beautiful wide hands.



And the way he directs his dick into Logan's mouth. And has his relaxed fleshy thigh wrapped up in Logan's arm.


And his leg up with his foot on Logan's back - as he gets his hole gently eaten out. As his massive dick lolls about on his stomach. And his hand gently rests on his own inner thigh.



And how he presses down on Logan's buns as he fucks. And the way he crunches his foot and curls it round Logan's calf.





And so carefully holds his dick as he blows.


And lets it rest on Logan's stomach while he contemplates his 'good work'.


And and and ... it goes on and on!

Maybe the mole someone was not so sure of in the 'Comments' of an earlier post can be seen as a Cindy Crawford beauty mark thing.
Traveling Round Japan

As with everyone, I've long been digital, camera and every other wise. But have a few photos from when I first traveled overseas - after I left school and before I went to uni for the first time. And been scanning them into my puter.

And I've been very struck by those I took in Japan. I still have such vivid memories of my often unexpected and unpredicted experiences. Like running from a shoe shop where I was overwhelmed by the 10,000 styles to choose from. Squeezing into tiny and crowded 20-customer bars in Shinjuku in Tokyo. And spending the night in the vast mattressed sleeping room of a gay sauna ('Senja'), to be woken in the morning by a guy standing on his head wanting me to give him a blow job - no gymnastics at all were required of me. Do you fully get the idea?! A pretty great way to start the day - I recommend it!

So with all that, I'll try not to post any of the usual 'classic' travel shots I took - but some more off-beat things.

When I arrived, I stayed in a suburb of Tokyo with a great friend in what must be one of the very last traditional wooden houses in the capital. Beyond the sliding entrance screens was a stone anti-chamber platform centred by a well - living spaces to the left and right.


Then I was off to another good friend ... in Nagoya. To find this enormous symbolic straw horse, sheltered in its bamboo stable ...


... and some Sumo wrestlers, somewhat paradoxically contexted emerging from cars parked at the base of Nagoya Castle ...


... and, less surprisingly, a traditional raked 'stone' garden.


Kyoto was next.

I loved the electric orange accents everywhere in a temple complex ...




... and the more than accent of colour at the Golden Temple.


And finally Nara, the first permanent capital of the nation, which was founded in 710 and originally known as Heijo.

I was on my own here which may explain why I took one of the prayer spoons home rather than sacrificially burn it in the temple cauldron.


Nara is small and hilly. And one morning just after dawn I went walking. And came across a temple in a valley. Where in the first courtyard was a group of around 20 seated observers listening to an orchestra accompanying a woman dancing. The photo is lousy cos I didn't want to be the ugly tourist intrusively angling to get a better one.


This photo of Koi Carp inspired me ...


... to a similar set when I was in the Philippines last year, and which I posted at the time ...

Makati, Manila, The Philippines

... and again to further shots in Sydney, recently.

Billyard House, Rushcutters Bay, Sydney

Strange, the far-reaching influences of travel!!!