If this is a Top Secret Naval Camp, then I’m Lord Nelson.

I’ve just come back from my new studio. I’ve been decorating. The landlady said “Just do whatever you like, honey”. She doesn’t know me very well yet.

It’s going to look like Tim Burton and David Lynch have spit-roasted each member of Gwar up against the walls. When I’m painting, my mind wanders and tonight I found myself thinking about when I was a kid. It’s no exaggeration to say that if somebody had come up to me when I was ten and said “One day, you will be a lanky faggot and you will have your own studio, be making costumes and art and creating all sorts of wonderful stuff”, I believe I would have laughed in their face. Of course, that never happened, though the old man across the road once asked me if I could keep a secret*.

When I was a kid, I was told I was wrong about a lot of things. I used to swap my bike with my neighbour’s daughter’s pram. I used to spend hours drawing pictures of fucked-up animals and writing stories about the Devil taking over the world (when my teacher told me “and Foxy, when we do creative writing today, yours is to contain not one single drop of blood” – so I wrote about an army of living plants who strangled their victims with their roots). I then went onto discovering how make-up and high heels and big hair made me feel. Then I discovered men. Then I discovered various other things and I was told “Noooo, men don’t do THAT.” And “Nooo, NORMAL people don’t [insert current insanity here].”

I went through a brief period of trying to ‘correct’ myself, but, it lasted about as long as an AnalCunt song. My true nature would always burst through. People ask when I ‘came out’ and my reply is often that I was never in. People ask how I manage to look so ‘outrageous’ and my reply is always that it really could be no other way. There is no managing, there is no coming out. I’ve not always been true to my nature in the past: it takes a lot of courage to be yourself in this world, even though it shouldn’t. But now I could live no other way.

(Above. Still from my short film Tesseract, which you can watch here: Part One, Part Two. The person in the still is the gorgeous Kat Marsh, who is firstly a very good friend of mine and secondly a very good musician – listen to her here)

So to suddenly be surrounded by things I have made, while decorating my own space, answering the phone to pick up emails about commissioned work… it feels quite surreal. But I’m likening it to a cool metaphor I heard once about the Roadrunner cartoons. When Wile E. Coyote is chasing the Roadrunner, he invariably runs off a cliff, while Roadrunner stands to the side, looking like a smug feathery fucker. And Roadrunner always falls down the canyon to his doom… but he never falls until, in true Loonie Tunes style, he looks down.

So I came to the conclusion that the trick is to never look down. Or, in this case, never look back. I was a wrong child, a fucked-up teenager and I was bloody good at it all. And now I’ve run off the edge of my cliff, I think I’ll carry on running until I get to the other side, flag down a car, drag the driver out and go find that smug little Roadrunner and run the fucker over.

Which is all code for: I am very happy for once in my life and you are all invited to the party. 😀


*I couldn’t. He’s in jail now.

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