A Very Gay Weekend Indeed

Every week in Sydney seems to bring something new and no rest at all, and this last weekend was most mental. On Friday night we went out to a bar on the rocks where we were given ridiculous cocktails by our wicked friend Robyn so were pretty hungover when we decided to take up Robyn's offer of being in the Mardi Gras parade rather than watching it. We ran around stringing outfits together in a circus theme and ended up with a slutty ringmaster, a clown and a bearded lady, all of whom met up with strangers dressed in similar attire that very afternoon. 

It was all a bit of a haze and I didn't realise how many people turn up for this thing until darkness fell and we faced hundreds of thousands of people along the hour-long march through the city, with media and tourists and everyone wanting to take your photo and hug and kiss you as you parade by, playing up the crowd. People were being very touchy feely and kissy, and I still don't know whether this is just the general theme of the event or whether the fact that we were on the polyamorous / bi float made them think we were all totally up for it. 

It's pretty amazing when you consider that thousands of people were in the parade itself - the only parade I've ever actually been interested in, seeing as how I'm not American. It's so wicked to see straight / bi / gay / poly / trans / queer people celebrating the myriad of sexualities in a euphoric manner. It was without a doubt one of the best things I've ever done...

...until it was royally one-upped on Monday morning, when I defied sleep and rationality to turn up at the opera house at 4am to join Spencer Tunick's first Sydney installation. After waiting for almost 3 hours for the sun to come up, over 5000 of us shed our clothing and stood in front of one of the world's most famous landmarks for near on an hour, letting an American dude take photos of us front on, facing back, lying down and hugging. 2 news helicopters circled constantly with us waving to them, photographers were too close for comfort, and every gust of wind brought a surprised cry from the men. After everyone's sensitive areas had had enough of the chilly breeze, half of us went inside to drape ourselves over the expensive seats in the name of art. I actually had my head about 2 centimetres away from a dude's genitals when the artist told everyone to "face the organ" - a dude that I then realised was Jesus in the parade on our very float! 

Sacreligious? Perhaps.

Anyway, I am so, so proud to have been a part of such a beautiful, inclusive, supportive and most of all fun situation. I learned that once you're naked, you're naked, and no one really cares. It seems to have made the news all over the world. And we get a print of the photo for free, woop! 

I also learned that 20 minutes sleep is just barely enough for 2 days when you're past 17. On Monday at work I was a wreck and I realised I'm a teenager no more. Before the parade on Saturday we met a gay couple of 13 and 15 (yeah, that's ten years younger than me) who were bummed that they couldn't go to the parade because they had to be home by 6pm. Cool kids. I felt massively old when they pulled a bottle of whiskey out of their backpack and gave me some. I am sure when I was 13 I was just fat and unfashionable.

Despite trying to have a quiet (and cheap) week last night I went to see the Prodigy, which I'd almost totally forgotten about as the tickets were an xmas present (thanks Lou!). I fucking love going to shows with people who are as blindly excited as you are, and the Prodigy seem to stir that up in people. Maybe this is because they've been going for nearly 20 years and their last album was as good as their first, or perhaps because they're ridiculous and with sustained ridiculousness comes reverence (case in point: Dave Benson Phillips). It's amazing that the guys are all reaching 40 and hardly show it. They also had a drummer and guitarist with them this time, which they may or may not have had last time I saw them (I'm often too small to see the stage when tall bastards are everywhere - I didn't realise that Pendulum weren't DJs for a while, despite having seen them) and mixed tunes way more than they did before too. The dubstep breaks in Thunder were particularly well received by my knees and feet. 

It's still pretty clear that they have to make an effort to get Keith away from the mic, as he's really just been a glorified dancer for the last 15 years having accidentally been vocalist for their most successful song, but when he did this time he made me feel right at home by doing a massive "WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO ABAAART IT, EYYY?!", just as if I was about to get punched in the face in a pub in Essex by a guy wearing trackies tucked into his socks, a fake Burberry hat and a shit chain from Argos that gives him a blue mark on his neck every night.

Lately I've very much become interested in this idea of collective effervescence, introduced to me by Tom and Lou last year. According to Emile Durkheim it's an energy perceived by a crowd of people that might make them act differently to normal*. I've liked this idea ever since I heard of it, and I definitely think its true when you think about clubs and festivals and any kind of positive atmosphere, but there's the flip side of it too, the mob mentality and unthinking obedience of, say, just picking something at random here...religion. I honestly think I felt the epitome of it this weekend, when I stepped out of my comfort zone to 'perform' to 100,000 Australians and then stripped off all my neuroses to appear naked for all the world to see. As an Sartrean existentialist I don't believe in human nature, so its very interesting to me that such a collective consciousness can even exist. Maybe I'll add 'read Durkheim' to the neverending list of things that will never get done because I'm too busy doing things like being in ridiculous parades and getting my kit off.

*See also - Mikhail Bahktin's theory of the carnivalesque.