A lot of what artists do seems to involve watching and waiting to see what will happen. When I’m desperate enough just to do anything, even if it seems completely stupid, it’s such a relief.
Seems like an odd quote to start my Christmas blog but without doubt much of this years nonsense would have been resolved sooner if I had thrown myself all the more harder into some sort of work..paid or un paid.
Firstly, I want to thank you all for so loyally following my blog. I bumped into my friend Josh last night at the Pearson’s and he told me how much he loved reading it. Such a surprise!
Christmas in Whitstable has been a great deal of fun. The pubs packed with revelling youths. All the chavs are dressed in padded country jackets. Caps and Barbour type padded jackets. They look great. Consequently I can no longer wear mine.
Met my mother for lunch. I gave her a lovely etching by Wendy Croft that I found in the Caxton Gallery that my friend Tom’s cousin owns and where I am negotiating to live next summer.
Alma and I are off to Church this morning to sing Hymns.
St Alphage is a blunt, crenellated, Anglican church on Whitstable High Street where, as a child, I sang in the choir.
I took Alma for communion and we sang hymns very heartily. There was one very good choir boy..too good. Amongst the ancient old ladies this tall, mop headed youth..like David Beckham playing on a local 5 a side team.
After the service we hung out in the vestry with the choristers, some of whom were in the choir when I was a little boy. I showed Alma the picture of me back then dressed in my cassock and surplus. I will see if I can scan it for you.
Alma teared up during the ‘peace be with you’ segment of the Anglican Christmas Service. We all shook hands and hugged. Everybody seemed very genuine.
I had a blog comment about my continuing, yet more occasional (indeed diminishing), mentions of Jake. I now only mention him when I want to share how obsession/addiction/compulsion ruins my life. I don’t really care what he, or if he knows about it. As for how long we were together..that really doesn’t matter. If your heart has been revealed and riven…well, I’m just telling you…it takes time.
I could write about the big dog being killed every single day. The two incidents are sort of similar: the death of something special. I think about both of them every single day. I don’t care if that inflates his ego. In some way, whenever I am inactive or having a quiet moment I will either remember the moment she was killed or the moment I understood that he would never be my boy friend.
The death of love.
When the Big Dog was killed I couldn’t stop crying. It might have been the realest thing I ever experienced. As a result it brought up every painful moment I ever felt but refused to cry over. The death of my Grand Mother, my real father’s death…oh the list goes on and on.
It is TIME TO FEEL. I am happy that I am coming out of it but it was essential to experience.
Before I left NYC I met a young man who has been emailing me and with whom I am building a connection. He is a really special man. An artist and an intellectual. I am not keeping any of his emails. They are immediately burned after reading.
Yes we did fuck the first night we met which is not ideal…and maybe that will impact on our future liaison but I am seeing where this one is heading. Let’s hope that this next year will be productive, considerate and filled with love.
Christmas Day was okay. I found a blond wig and clowned around for the kids. We opened a million presents and May bought The Little Dog a reflective coat for the miserable New York nights ahead of us.
Alma, May, Me, George Christmas 2010
I forgot to mention that I met my brother’s beautiful little son who had his first birthday on the 1st December. His name is Oscar and had a ready smile and a charming disposition. He LOVED the Little Dog. Perhaps I should leave everything to him when I die?
I have to leave my money to someone…maybe him. I really liked him. That’s an odd thought isn’t it? I have to think about it sooner or later.
Ended up helping with the cooking of Christmas lunch. The turkey was great..really moist and cooked through. Cooked for 11 people. I felt a little distant. I wonder when I am going to sink back into my own skin? They asked me why I was so ‘subdued’ I felt that the correct word might be contemplative.
We devoured the St John’s Christmas Pudding with lashings of clotted cream.
After lunch hung out at my friend Sasha’s cottage. Her dog Pip and her friend’s dog played with the little dog who tried fucking them both. He was very funny. Saw some very good British TV…however my once friend David Walliams (Clancy’s Kitchen) has a new show that isn’t at all funny. A mocumentary about airports…terrible.
A few more days in Whitstable.
Need the results of further tests from last Wednesdays hospital visit.
I am going to Florence next week for NYE then I am in NYC apartment hunting. So, lots to do.
Have a very happy Christmas everyone…unless you are jewish…or a muslim..or don’t give a fuck.