Hey may not be saving Italy from financial apocalypse, but Berlusconi is at least looking good as heads to a Brussels EU summit. This monetary mess must be taking away precious bunga bunga time for Mr B.
In Tokyo, there are constant reminders, to the male population, that we could be working much harder to look good. Why are your natural eyebrows still visible, are you wearing enough eye-liner and shade, has your face been covered in pancake make-up and contoured? I often feel overwhelmingly inadequate as I move through public space and am reminded of all that I could be.
This photo from New York’s East Village cheers me up. When will that gay rebel Bradley Manning, the one who downloaded terrabytes of government secrets while pretending to be listening to Lady Gaga, be freed and feted as a hero turned scapegoat? I am glad not everyone has forgotten that he’s being held in harsh detention conditions.
I was feeling a little down with the inevitable discovery of Moammar Gadhafi in the drainage pipe, with the surprise extra of an online snuff film. I have a certain hankering for anti-US despots with long careers and flamboyant outfits. No one, absolutely no one, better embodied the mix of African, Arab and Easy Rider fashion. Moammar, you’ll be missed. RIP!
Recently, a young gay guy asks me if I live alone. “No, I live with my husband,” I replied. His English seems fluent, and certainly better than my Japanese.
“So you’re bisexual,” was his response. There was some confusion, as if he wanted me to confirm this deduction. I was confused, and he kept asking the same strange question about being bisexual and whether “she” knows. What is it about having a husband that makes me bisexual? I finally corrected him in Japanese by re-affirming the husband’s male gender.
Maybe “husband” is not widely used here in Japan? I’m not even using the term as a claim about traditional legal rights. After so many years together and being middle-aged, “boyfriend” seems inappropriate and “partner” insufficient.
This story will provide laughs for weeks. So, you’ve been bisexual ever since you married your husband? Think of all the (biological) ladies I could be romancing. Ah, Japan, use your imagination!
“I Will Reveal That I Wear Skinny Jeans Off-Duty,” say the suspiciously well-dressed police office seen frequently at Occupy Wall Street.
According to NPR, “He stands out from the uniformed crowd because he wears skinny ties and skinny trousers and he hangs with Tom Morello and wears ironically retro grandpa sweaters.”
More info also at Gothamist. (via the husband).
What is more impressive about this champion: body, pose, hair, eyebrows? I *love* gymnastics, and am super-fan girl excited that I am going to the championship this afternoon. Rain be damned, bring on the spandex, big hair, muscles, pain, and “art.”
New movie from Pedro Almodovar. Antonio Banderas returns, looking suave and a bit scary!
Fashion, fetish, sport, or what? I love how world hot dog eating champ Kobayashi Takeru so gamely shows off his oral talents, his middrif, and his perversely cheerful spirit with the thumb up. As Matt says, this is a guy who makes very public his lack of gag reflex.
Is Japan sufficiently proud of this gamine ambassador of carnality?!
The sumo match itself rarely lasts more than a minute, and the rules seem simple. You win by pushing the other guy out of the circle. But there’s so much ritual before the shoving and grunting even begin. I like how they all come out together in special fancy aprons and raise their arms together. I am unclear whether it’s a spiritual or sexual act, but it’s hard not to stare.
The champion Hakuho also does some extra balancing and arm-raising, while wearing a special rope decoration. I like how the sumo champion is dressed up almost like a Shinto sacred tree. Even without knowing the specifics, it’s clear that he is invoking vast forces and unseen spirits.
The opponents face off several times and then go to their corners before starting the match. I like when they toss salt up into the air, which seems to purify and make the fighting space more exalted.
And finally, I love the intensity of their faces and bodies before the match begins. These big boys sure can squat low, and it’s exciting to anticipate the fearsome power they create out of their own body weight.