Details are always vulgar.

The only man I will ever love (faithfully) is Oscar Wilde.

[antonwilde-blog]

Top 5 Lists For People Who Love Listing Lists About Lists

Are listicles really important? Should we continue to encourage this kind of online reading? For the most part, I'll say yes.

Of course I want to know the Top 15 Sandwiches I Should Be Making This Winter.

Obviously we all need to be intimately familiar with the Best Awkward Cats of 2013.

And don't get me started on lists with facts about famous films or books or celebrities that I didn't know. I need to know and I need to know yesterday.

In all of these sweet treasures of trivia and culinary adventure, there's a big pile of shitty listicles. Shitsticles, if you will. Lists that tell me what I "know to be true" as a white man/gay man/New Englander/Canadian/Soccer Player/Drag Queen/whatever the fuck. But it ain't goin' down like that.

Here's what I know to be true: every list is created by some bored jerk who wants to make it on BuzzFeed. Now, I love a little BF in my daily routine, but I have to lay some blame on them for inspiring so many shitty lists in the world.

Like, "The Top 10 Gays You Meet At A Club" that I just found on some queer blog? Thanks BuzzFeed, for compelling me to read every fucking list I set my eyes upon. Reading that list took away 6 minutes of my life I could have devoted to getting more cookies from my kitchen.

My problem with the lists isn't the subject matter. I get that most lists are meant to be funny and parody these things  certain cultures and subcultures understand. It's better than those awful "What My Friends Think I Do" photos. Any time you posted one of those, your friends thought you were bored. End of story.

No, my problem with the lists is that there's no barrier to entry. No standard of content. You write a "humorous" list, post it online and I guarantee someone will repost it or tweet it. Someone lazy and about 18-months behind trends, but someone nonetheless.

That awful list about gays I mentioned earlier? It relied on every lazy trope you can think of for gays. Club hounds, fag hags, self-hating queers, old men scamming on young guys. Yeah it's funny 'cause we get it but it's less than funny because it's not some clandestine secret. Even my brother who prefers to sit at home with drinks and watch documentaries about space could identify those gay tropes. 

You want to write a list? Give me something either useful or original or educational. You want to bitch and moan about some facet of your social life or culture that you feel NO ONE UNDERSTANDZZZZZZ? Post a .GIF and make a drink.

[antonwilde-blog]

"Meet Me In St. Louis".

It gave Judy "The Trolley Song" and "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas".

Happy Holigays.

[antonwilde-blog]

what i saw this week: "The Daisy Theatre" by Ronnie Burkett

When I first moved to Vancouver, I heard a lot of people say that Vancouver's art scene was in a sad state of affairs. Not having any sort of context, I pretty much believed them. However, that lasted for all of a month until I discovered the endless amount of art, music, theatre and performance events that happen every weekend in the city.

Personally, I think the people who "couldn't find" a good show to go to were lazy. 

Last Tuesday, my friends invited me to see "The Daisy Theatre" by Ronnie Burkett at The Cultch. I had heard of his work for some time, but never had the opportunity to see a show, so I damn near leapt through my phone to answer their invite.

Quick Background: Ronnie's speciality is puppetry and not only does he write and perform the shows himself, but he creates the puppets as well. He's basically a mad scientist of the theatre.

"The Daisy Theatre" is a show where no two performances are the same. Burkett's written a show which he performs (and improvises throughout) based on how the show flows for him that evening. A lot of the characters felt manic at first, but I realized that he's, for lack of a better phrase, making his stream of consciousness physical. Yeah, he's got a script, but whether it's performed in or out of order, he's organizing the story's flow, characters, voices, movements, and songs in the moment. It's stunning.

Personal favourite characters were Esme Masengill, the decrepit vampire glamour girl; Edna Rural, the housewife from the Prairies whose story was beautiful and heartbreaking; and Mrs. Madeline Porterhouse, a cow who owns The Daisy Theatre. Though, to be honest, Madeline didn't have much stage time and I think I just fell in love with her character's voice.

Esme, Edna and Madeline – early versions from Ronnie's Facebook page

I left the show with friends, we shared a cab ride home, and halfway there I felt this exhaustion come over me. I thought maybe it was because I had went to the show straight from the office, but when all I could think about was the show it became clear that was reason I was worn out. "The Daisy Theatre" was an emotional roller coaster – philosophical, funny, heartwarming, heartbreaking, provocative, inspiring – and I was exhausted from each emotion.

And if that's how I felt after one show, I can't imagine how Ronnie does it night after night. There are dozens of characters in that production and he has a voice for all of them. Words for all of them. It's hard to understand how he holds it all in his head.

Thinking on that, I remembered a line that Schnitzel – the fairy boy puppet Ronnie used to share his life philosophies – said during an impressively long monologue. It had started with talking about The Creator and how he pulls the strings of each puppet, and somewhere along the way Schnitzel gets meta saying that maybe The Creator uses The Daisy Theatre to say things he's too scared to say himself on a stage*.

*disclosure: Right, like I remember verbatim what he said. It was on Tuesday.

I think any performer can relate to that idea on some level. Being a drag queen, I use Shanda's character every time I paint my face to bring out something I keep locked away most days. Actors, writers, musicians – hell, even Beyoncé has Sasha Fierce – they all feel that in some way. I suppose this time it struck me because I could see the man behind those words. The puppet may have been on stage, but Ronnie doesn't disappear. He's towering over them and it was a strange moment to see the character say the words but to hear the man speak the truth.

When I was younger, I used to hold back quite a bit and was a relatively quiet kid because I was afraid my opinions or point of view would either hurt someone's feelings or make me unpopular. We've all been there. Lately, I noticed that old habit creeping back and it's been weighing on me so, not to say that Ronnie's puppets have inspired me to be a warrior princess, but I think they've confirmed my worries and given me the kick in the ass I needed.

Shanda Leer's still going to be your favourite tipsy aunt at a wedding, but Anthony's going to put some of that sway into his walk.

Check out "The Daisy Theatre" at The Cultch until December 15. Y'all won't be sorry.

[antonwilde-blog]

what i watched this week: Star Trek: TNG "The Chase"

It's been a long week and after guzzling down most of the vodka in my kitchen, at The Cobalt, and whatever I could scrounge up on Davie Street, I needed some down time with old friends. Friends who get me. Friends who don't need me to engage but simply watch. Friends who are serving aboard the USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D.

I came to Star Trek late in life, but it feels like it's always been there – and the only other show to give me those feelings is "The Golden Girls". I don't know if it's the reasonably handsome men for the 90s in uniform, or the woefully underused but still captivating women who served in high-powered roles of authority, but I've never really gotten tired of watching them unfurl mysteries of space. Also, it's encouraging to know that smoky eyes and blown out hair will be de rigueur in the next 500 or so years.

Today, as I surrounded myself with hummus, pita chips, Diet Coke and a half eaten Big Mac from the night before, I switched on one of my favourite episodes of TNG – season six's "The Chase". Call me a sucker, but I love an episode that features a goal only attainable by teamwork with sworn enemies. Much like the classic He-Man and the Masters of the Universe romp, "Evil Seed". Sidenote: Skeletor really did have a heart after all. It's just that he really loves revenge and being consumed with an undying lust for power.

Klingons, Humans, Cardassians and Romulans? Gurl.

To sum up the episode, Picard's old archaeology professor hints at a millennia old puzzle which he's close to solving and asks Picard to leave the Enterprise. Naturally, Picard's all, "Not a chance, motherfucker", so the old guy leaves bitter and shady. His ship gets space mugged by some Yridians, he dies, and Picard decides to relieve his grief by abandoning an important political engagement to basically search for numbers.

The plot of this episode might be one of the best in the series and I wish it was at least a two-parter. The climax (and spoiler alert for anyone who hasn't seen this 20-year old episode of syndicated television), is that an ancient, yet advanced, civilization scattered their DNA across the galaxy to seed their genetic makeup into many civilizations. It's an interesting piece of Star Trek history and a great way to explain why so many of the main character species are humanoid.

At this discovery, the recording of the mother alien gives an impassioned speech about their differences and similarities, and the spirit of togetherness hopefully shared when discovering the answer to this puzzle. It's some pretty profound business for a program that never shied away from bringing philosophy and spirituality into its story lines. It also touches (albeit hamfistedly) on issues of cultural divides, learned prejudice and how the pursuit of power can blind people to the true treasures of the world, or however you want to phrase that. But what's also stood out to me is the scene where Picard and his professor/mentor share knowledge of the Kurlan naiskos.

'Tis a fine lookin' naiskos, to be sure.

Basically, this is the thing that starts off the whole puzzle solving expedition, and Picard and his mentor reveal the history behind the artifact. It reminds me of a Russian nesting doll, only the smaller figures inside represent "the many voices within one". Kurlan philosophy believed that every individual was made up of a community of individual voices, each with their own desires and needs. I may not be a Kurlan potter or philosopher, but as I've gotten older, I've started to truly believe in this notion. Look back into your past and you'll recall instances or memories where you seem completely different from the person you are now. Most of us would say that's just normal growth and that we discover our sense of self through experimentation, but I see it as an expression of the different facets of ourselves.

Sure, I may be a little wiser than I was at age 20, but in the right situation, I'm not much different than that kid. His voice was loud, opinionated, sassy, curious, determined – all normal things for someone that age. At 28, I'm still fairly loud though I know how to better pick my spots; I'm still opinionated but I've learned when to play it to my advantage; I am definitely still sassy but I've refined my delivery; if you ever stop being curious, you might as well be dead in my opinion; and I don't think I'll ever lose my determined streak. To say that I'm not different at 28 than at 20 would be glossing over a lot of lessons learned over the years, but 20-year old Anthony still lives in me. As does 8-year old Anthony who still thinks moths are one of the most frightening creations on this earth, and 13-year old Anthony who was shocked that RuPaul was actually a man.

When someone is a busy individual, we say they "wear many hats". In my daily life, I can switch from marketing professional to introverted stress eater, to reasonably competent athlete to over-the-top drag queen. I don't consider any of these to be a hat worn for a few hours a week. I don't consider them to roles I happen to occasionally fill. These aspects of my person are a natural part of me – some of which have only awakened in the past few years. Each of these people has different desires and needs, but ultimately they're desires and needs that a part of the whole individual and I don't think I should diminish any of them by reducing their voices to a mere accessory I present to the world.

I feel you can learn a lot from television in the ways you react to it. Even something as benign as "New Girl" can spur thoughts of how you approach relationships or help you appreciate the little quirks many of us hide. The point of "The Chase" is to illustrate the sameness in our differences, but my takeaway will always validate the wonderful strangeness in our internal differences.

[antonwilde-blog]

FINALLY. YouTube understands me. :'3

[antonwilde-blog]

The Time There Was A Box Of Double Stuf Oreos In My Apartment.

There was a box of Double Stuf Oreos in my apartment for almost 2 days. They were crammed full with some much life-changing Oreo smear, I didn't need the extra "f" on "Stuf".

At 9:28 p.m. on Tuesday, October 1, I ate 3. Slowly dunking them into a porcelain mug Skim Milk, watching seductively drip from the bottom of each cookie while gently seeping into the biscuit and making them dark, soggy discs of flavour.

At 8:22 a.m. the next day – Wednesday, October 2 – I quickly ate 1. It was a bit of a martyr to my hunger because I took that lil' fella in just one mouthful. Chomp.

At 5:14 p.m. the same day, I tumbled into my apartment after work to freshen up before dinner at La Taqueria. I grabbed two tasty treats from the cupboard, skipped the milk because I couldn't locate my lactose digestion pills, and pulled out the two-bite surprise for each cookie.

Around 9:30 p.m. that evening, with dinner over and a brisk walk home from the Canada Line behind me, against my better judgement, I ate 3 lovely Double Stuf Oreos. Actually, I made two cookies into the monolithic Quad Stuf Oreo. It was heavenly.

I had passed out around 10:44 p.m. from an obvious food coma, but stirred at 1:21 a.m. because I was (naturally) gassy. Since I was up, I figured I'd snack on an Oreo.

Today, after dinner close to 7:13 p.m., I took the entire box out to my living room so my cousin and I could snack while watching Season 2 of "The Real Housewives of Vancouver".

It's all a bit of a blur, but what I'm left with is an unwarranted sense of indignation against women I've never met who clearly should have had each other's backs so they wouldn't have to keep burying hatchets; black teeth thanks in part to my sugary babies; an empty box of Double Stuf Oreos and good excuse to buy more.

[antonwilde-blog]

These bear repeating.

[im-my-own-saviour1]

Cup song in Gaelic from Ireland.

Just listen..

[neveratyourfeet]

pins and needles.

I did that thing where you make one hand

fall asleep

and then masturbate.

It was more intimate than your mouth.

[sexologist]

Dear Society,

If you think a woman in a tan vinyl bra and underwear, grabbing her crotch and grinding up on a dance partner is raunchy, trashy, and offensive but you don’t think her dance partner is raunchy, trashy, or offensive as he sings a song about “blurred” lines of consent and...

[antonwilde-blog]

Dr. Jill, you're reading my mind. And making it much more concise.

[antonwilde-blog]

Let's Never Say "twerktastic" Again.

Alright, so we've all had a little time to process Miley's "twerktastic" performance. Forgiving the banality of using "twerktastic" to describe what was witnessed, most of the reviews and coverage I've read about the VMAs has focused on the "ratchet appropriation" and "minstrelsy" of Miley's new look, which is definitely an issue that can be discussed. But that's not what's bothering me.

There are few things in this world I can't tolerate, which include and aren't limited to:

People who throw me side-eye for appreciating the Oxford Comma.

Lactose.

Slut shaming.

After watching some videos online, reading some comments and tweets – which I know is inviting blind rage – I'm pretty disgusted at the rampant use of "whore", "slut", "skank", and other comments that boil down to a "we all saw this coming" sentiment.

she's living her life - who are you? the police?

Oh, did you? Did you happen to have the tremendous foresight to predict that a 20-year old might delve into overtly sexual themes as they grow in an industry that's built on image making? A 20-year old who just happens to be on a global stage with throngs of fans hanging on her every movement? Looking to her for their own inspiration and identity?

Yeah, you're a real fucking prophet.

What's gotten under my skin about this wave of shame drowning Miley is that we're hating on something we've encouraged, even rewarded to happen. There's no fault to be laid anywhere because, at the end of the day, she's a 20-year old realizing that's she's a sexual being. Sure, she went a little over the top what with the chest licking, ass licking, foam finger air-dickings and what have you, but look me in the eye and say you didn't get a lil' Christina-style dirrrty when you were in the club at 20-years old.

Look at what was touted as sexy and provocative when Miley was in her early teens:

Pussycat Dolls, Fergie, Paris Hilton, plus let's not forget Akon's string of ass-smacking "hits".

Miley's serving back to us what we elevated to pop culture gold status just a few short years ago. And it happens.

Being a long time fan of drag queens, and more recently a queen myself, I've watched gurls, old and new, rely on the booty drop, the pussy pop, the sexy tongue, and the bend without snap. It's a bit of phenomenon that's another conversation altogether, but when a queen wants to actualize sexual prowess and experience on stage, you best believe a booty drop is coming at you. Even I've caught myself throwing a pose or three.

she said she couldn't be tamed. she damn well told you years ago.

There were a lot of things wrong with Miley's VMA spectacle. I thought the teddy bears were overdone, and they reminded me of Kanye back in the "College Dropout" days. The foam finger air-dickings could have been scaled back; that's solid advice for anyone, frankly. And if you're gonna be "twerktastic", it'd be awesome if you could actually do the move justice. But at the end of the day, Miley compiled everything that's dominating young adult pop culture and served it to you in a flesh toned bikini. 

Some of my favourite comments were from parents who instantly turned into haughty dowagers informing everyone that "[their] children will certainly not be watching Disney Channel anymore". Let me lay something out for you – Miley's not on the Disney Channel anymore. There's are dozens of former Disney kids turning out work that's much darker and provocative than her, and to be honest, "That's So Raven" hasn't been on for years so there's no justifiable reason your kids should be watching the Disney Channel anyway. Jesus.

Whether it's genuine or not, there's no need to vilify her sexual persona. If you don't like it, that's your problem. If you want to criticize something, go deeper and find something substantial because we've been through this with Madonna, Britney, Christina, Nelly, Katy, Gaga, and a host of others. You're not saying anything new, you're just sounding like an asshole.

[antonwilde-blog]

Do y'all have friends that move around often? Like, from city to city?

Vancouver, I find, is a transitional city for many people. Unless you've grown up here or have laid down some roots, it's a fairly sexy place to live for a few years before you settle where you really feel "at home".

I'm all for moving about. I've been doing that since I was a kid. What I'm not so down for is pissing on your city, or other cities. Y'all know what I mean. That one Facebook or Twitter friend who constantly updates everyone on their current mood with whatever city, town, village, hamlet, et. al. they happen to find themselves.

For example, when the sun sets during the summer in Vancouver, it's pretty damn glorious. We're talking pinks, purples, oranges – basically my favourite colour palette. Just before that thing dips past the horizon, I swear Instagram and Facebook are bursting at the seams with Vancouver Porn.

"Yeah, I'll take it." "Not a bad way to end the weekend." "Vancouver, I love you."

You know, the usual stuff. For the most part, I agree with these folks, even if their praise is a little ham-fisted. 

However, you'll quickly find these same people griping and whinging about Vancouver incessantly once they find a flaw. Immediately the choruses of "No Fun City" ring through the land and should these friends travel to other cities they enjoy, you best prepare yourself for an onslaught of comparisons, parallels and stark differences between them.

Look, I get that Vancouver has its problems. And I also get that people get so incensed over these issues because they love Vancouver and want it to be better. But honestly, if you're well travelled, you know that every single city, town, village, hamlet, et. al. has their problems. Some worse, some easily repaired, but stricken with problems nonetheless. 

By all means, voice your opinions – I genuinely love reading them. But temper that angst because if you really love something, you shouldn't turn your back on it so quickly.

[antonwilde-blog]

This is definitely in my Top 5 for best Van Pride moments this year.

[antonwilde-blog]

Me in drag, every time a camera lens comes within 8 feet during Vancouver Pride.

[antonwilde-blog]

If you're in Vancouver for Pride this year and want to see some fierce drag queen action, check out this event. I'm planning something a little out of the box for Shanda!

[rimatakesphotos]

Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.

Oscar Wilde (via rimatakesphotos)

I would have shamelessly thrown myself at Oscar. You know, if I lived in his era and was the sassy, confident gay man I am today.

[antonwilde-blog]

It's been driving me crazy all weekend, but I finally realized how I know Yoga Jones...

Patti Mayonnaise really went off the rails.