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this site will mostly be used to document past / current / future projects.

everyday ramblings, go to http://drew-taylor.tumblr.com

xxx

Pre-amble to a funeral

Come from four corners,

Stay in grotty travel lodges,

Trying to traffic jam dodge.

Surely he wouldn’t this for us.

Porous tie fabric doesn’t hide that stain.

Decision of wearing black, draining…

Negotiation from bearing up to an unknown relative;

Relatively civil, against prior disagreement – for him

Stand amongst cement, in car park prior to lament.

Outdated building decor, undertaker taking record.

Pleasantries underneath well groomed “peacegarden” trees.

Hearse arrives and outstepps my Dad

I’d like to hug him, but I had better not. He’s had a hard day.

Try and say something,

but he’s lost his father

but I’m trying to console mine

“It’s fine”, he says, “I’m glad you came”

I wonder if I’ll feel the same, when his coffin comes.

And it does. Grandad arrives.

Shell of a body, withered he became at his late stage

Age hides no face.

And place him in that furnace

Younger brother grimace at my side

Mother hides a tear with a monogrammed handkerchief

But it’s Nanny who needs the support.

Everyone ought to think of, aspire to marriaged to years

All fears now realised

Alone, first time in since 1947

He’d be in heaven if I believed in it.

Missing: a Hamlet cigar smouldering

Next to a 70s styled cream jacket,

Soft slippers and a velour armchair occupant.

Firstly I am coming home, yes some say that the home is where your parent’s house is, and for many people of my age and generation, it may well be, however I am one of a lucky few that is fortunate to live in a free-enough rented accommodation to REALLY invest in the place [kinda decorate] [kinda put my shit everywhere] and a month away has made me realise… I friggin missed it. Home is where you lay your hat, where your heart is, and is always sweet, sweet [home]. I desperately want to unpack, get re-accommodated, mourn my goldfish Jemima [5 years she was, good innings indeed], drink from my coloured glasses, set up my new sewing machine and show off my new Christmas clothes to the homosexual harem that awaits me.

Secondly, having said all that stuff about wanting to be home, being with my folks during Christmas [pre and post] has for the first time in a while felt truly magical. My family is growing [physically and mentally] as we get older and it is really amazing to see what great people me and siblings have turned into as adults, needless to mention the joy felt from hanging out with a 16.5 month old beautiful girl [my niece beau-summer – utterly magic she be].

Thirdly, and most importantly, this last month has heralded a new chapter in my artistic practice:

I have met wonderful people in the last month [on public transport a lot of the time – making me proud to continue my counter-british habit of actually engaging in conversation with strangers in transit] and I continue to enrich my existence with new faces, fully committing to all those I am proud already to consider colleagues and comrades.

Poetry is gonna take over in 2011: look out for my name in magazines, I’m submitting my work to all and sundry, applying to many competitions, and generally writing like a biatch. What’s more, I got funding to do an amazing project with proudExposure’s resident Sound Designer FI JOHNSTON… entitled “Totem of My Love”. This has been developed with the NTS for their Allotment project in May 2010 and will premier at the Arches in Glasgow on Valentine’s Day 2011, running as an exhibition for a month: my first visual art exhibition. Please click these links for more info on that…

http://proudexposure.wordpress.com/current/

http://www.thearches.co.uk/Totem-Of-My-Love.htm

Writing in general is on the agenda, this blog is gonna be kept as up to date as possible and my playwriting is defo gonna be put out there a heck of a lot more

In 2011 I will be developing 2 new scripts, hoping to get someone interested in an oldie but goodie of mine [now fully sexified and  in my view, ready for public consumption] as well as writing a musical on Mr Charlie Chaplin.

But who cares right? No one actually reads this… so maybe if you do, hit me back, and maybe if you do, follow me, let me in, contact me, make me aware of you, pretend we’re opposite on a train, it’s been 3 hours, and it would be simply rude not to have a wee chat…

In the meantime, check out this Etsy site: it’s me, as a craft maker, and boy do I love it.

Much love for 2011 Interweb.

Drewdles

xxx

Tourist day: did applications before leaving the Hotel, hopped to the Hopbahnhof station: huge, utterly gigantic, but thankfully left luggage was easy to locate. Luggage located and left, and then turn, right out of the station to find things to do…

Went to the Gallery of Modern Art, the Art didn’t look that good for 13EURO so skipped that one, trudged back to the U-Bahn [visitors to Berlin – U-Bahn is ace – S-Bahn is shit, I found this out today, the trains are WAY more full, the platforms are in above ground, so in snow, are horrible, and I may be dense but the directions within the station to follow where to go are REALLY confusing, don’t do it] and saw the Brandenburg gate, then hopped on a tour bus for 1h30mins

This, always, is a great way to see a city, especially in horrible weather. The tour guide was a self described political scientist [“don’t ask me about art” he informed, after I did so] with a very British sarcastic wit, no doubt picked up whilst studying in Ireland [he informed us, and indeed, his hybrid accent was glorious]. He had wicked Rayban specs and was kinda huge, and took himself off to McDonalds during our trip, something I feel he does daily… fella, get off the McDs, not good for you, talk to Morgan Spurlock…

Arrived back at the gate, very near, it turns out to the holocaust memorial… the best sight I have seen in Berlin. Truly mesmeric, even in treacherous snow. Then back to my stomping groung, Mehringdamm in Kreuzberg where I finally visited a 2nd hand store to sample the buying by weight method [turns out not that much was good, but I did pick up two awesome tops for very cheap] then to supermarket for haribo [naturally] and amici’s for a final pizza [what?? It’s cheap, I like it] and then the epic journey to the airport

I have decided to fly back because I’m meant to be working in London at the weekend [so alas am still attempting to cancel my train tickets] and this was all arranged last minute. Trip to the airport took an age, mainly because of my inability to navigate the S-Bahn system. Got through check-in fine, spent the last of my Euros on booze and sweets and then my flight got cancelled

Yes, cancelled.

Not delayed, cancelled.

I was kinda pleasant to one of the Easyjet staff when she was handing out cancellation forms, she looked so stressed with so many rowdy brits shouting at her, so she got a few friendly words and a pat from the green eyebrowed drewster [it's not Her fault it's snowing] and then got to a VERY hot hotel where I drank some random german booze i picked up coz the bottle was pretty and watched batman cartoons, slept like a baby…

So, [now on day 6] I’m currently in a hotel, waiting for a new flight in the morning. All my work I am cancelling, I am alas not gonna be in London, I’m crying home to Suffolk until Christmas with Mama’s home cooking. So a bizarre end to the Berlin trip, today is mainly writing in a hotel room, shutting myself off from the world. Hope to be home some time Sunday.

Living in and out of hotels is weird, I don’t know how Britney does it.

Did not want to get up this morning at all… post-dance-class-morning-I-am-an-actor-not-a-dancer- aches. Felt stressed out about applications for everything, technically this is a holiday, a working one, I really wanna concentrate on what I’m doing…and lo-and-behold doing a dance class does just that, focuses the mind [to try and get the steps right – achieved more-or-less on day 2] focuses the body [trying to get the steps right] and weirdly relaxes me.

Then straight in to development in the big space today… did some puke actions, read through some pre-existing mental illness inspired texts by Drew [of which there seems to be a lot] and generally worked very productively for 3 hours. The plan was to go see a Christmas market, do some work and then go to Chris’ for a dinner party, come home, satiated and then, sleep…

This is how the afternoon/evening/morning planned out [I mention morning dear reader, coz that is all you is getting outta me... yeh bouy]…

Did some work, responded to some emails, wrote some Charlie Chaplin musical [yes, another current project] then, alas, fell asleep watching a cartoon – an all too familiar event in the life of me. It’s not a regression thing, I have liked cartoons ever since I can remember, they have been a constant, I’m not trying to re-live my kid-hood… I just love em, I love watching larger than life and colour muscled-bound men and women beating each other up in far flung locations… it’s always superheroes, and I always think if they were live action, they would all totally get banned from prime-time TV, let alone Saturday mornings. I digress…

Woke up in time, power shower, then to Christopher’s for a wondrous chick-pea curry in the company of 2 Germans, an Aussie and two South Africans [one resident of Berlin, since 1983 I was informed and one a previous resident of Portugal]… and me, English via Glasgow, in a city that I wish I had more time to truly explore.

on his couch of wonder

The boys share my penchant for coloured glassware [big plus point] and we topped off the evening first in a gay-bar entitled Drama, where the smoking got too much, and the drama, Dahling, was far too obvious [the server slid our menus too us with an au-fait flick of the wrist and pouted lips, that really, made me feel a little more sick than the cigarette smoke], residing finally in Rausch Gold [gold rush – translation – I believe is a brand of poppers, so, this bar was certainly more subtly named] for the duration of the eve. Rausch Gold is covered in xmas decs, gold stars with many a person’s name [someone called Sally features a heck of a lot, and cindy and lindy and... the dreamgirls: you know you’re in a gay-bar now] and velveteen drapes. Glorious, just how mama intended… glittery, glamourous and covered in drag queens, oh, and a working train set in the window.

And yes, I had company, and, yes we stayed until later, and yes… the rest, is sadly now [as I write this from an uncomfortable changing bench in Tanzfabrik dancer’s changing room]… history.

DAY 4

Slept badly, always is the way…

So managed to avoid getting a fine… travelling with a native german speaker on the one day they check my ticket was very fortunate indeed, it turns out you actually need to stamp your ticket at the station you started at, as well as simply buying the thing, who’d a thunk it??? And wonderfully, because I went unchecked on my other days, I don’t need to pay for any travel for the duration of my trip, and I can be a good samaritan to a starving australian, glorious… incidentally Berlin’s underground is way more stylish than London’s… check out these interiors:

yeah, that is the fabric on the seats... awesome

Dance class today was truly amazing. I actually felt like a dancer a] because on a third day of the same routine, one, even one as mal-coodinated as me, should know the routine and b] our teacher finished the sequence with my signature b-boy breakdance freeze [everyone should have one, mine is standing on my shoulder, legs in the air akimbo - sexy it is]. Honest to god the feeling of achievement, erm, achieved was incredible, i actually had a wee cry in the “warm-down” segment post class – the tears merged with all my sweat, so no one saw…

Found a desk on the street [for Chris' house - man after my own heart] post class, and post a bizarre encounter with a very abrasive woman from Tanzfabrik [i hate to generalise, but I'm gonna - german sensibility is very precise and efficient, to a point, at times, of, well, rudeness - there's certainly not the airs and graces of British converse]. Lunch again at Amici Amici, best pizza ever… and so cheap… then back for rehearsal.

The project is entitled at this stage as “tell me I am beautiful”… it’s an exploration of modern therapy and Chris and I will be working on it over the next year, both performing: me writing, him choreographing… a good show it will eventually be. Finding a kinship in a man I barely know is very very comforting indeed, trash theatre bitches unite…

Tourist I moved on to… waving goodbye to the boys, I hopped on the U-Barn to what I can surmise is the gallery district around Auguststrasse… Went to C/O Gallery [expensive entry]  with a retrospective of Peter Linderbergh, famed fashion photographer: interestingly he is current embroiled in a civil dispute with one of the models whom agreed to have the shots used in Vogue, but never as part of an exhibition… and weirdly at the opening she was totally cool with it all but decided a month later that she was pissed, allegedly because she was informed she could make a buck or two in disputing… my point being that several photos were hanged featuring her, but were simply white covered frames when I saw them, her absence was tangible and people were trying to look over, under, through the sheets to see the photos, nowhere to be seen…

we look more, sometimes, for what is not there, than what is clearly right in front us… a big fat nothing, however much we want it to be…something

Anyhow, it was cool to see some massive shots of supermodels, and the retrospective of another photographic great Fred Herzog. Next, and where I currently reside, was the KW gallery with a huge, exhbition of Absalon, an artist cut short in his prime [only 28] who’s architectural sculptures blew me the hell away. Utterly magic.

interior at the KW institut, tackiest and best staircase ever

I will miss this city. Tomorrow is proper tourist day, after final dance class then Flugzeug to London… wish me luck for the flight

woke up at 6AM coz I went to sleep at 10PM, and really I only need 8 hours, so my usual midnight-8AM sleep was moved back 2 hours… irritatingly.

snowy it was in Berlin this morning and my shitty old yellow/turquoise adidas nearly gave way, a sad day it will be when they finally die [friggin love how attached i get to inanimate objects... or fish... or house plants].

…and so to the dance class. weirdly all dance classes are in English in Berlin, so understanding everything verbally was easy, understanding everything physically. dear reader picture this: the jolly green giant’s skinnier cousin [i still had my green hair, not now though it's all gone, fuck yeah - see picture - and i chose to wear a green top] flayling his legs around like a malcoordinated baby gazelle. that’s how good i am in a contemporary dance class. i have the drive, the enthusiasm, and when i get the move right, the correct “physical intention and dynamic” but oh god, in general, i am shite…

get me on a dancefloor with some prince and that’s a different story

at the end of class we went to a very unpopulated nepalese restaurant for stunning curry lunch, stopped at chris’ and met his beau [south-african musician Portable, recently remixer of the Knife's current tune http://listn.to/PortableakaBodycode - i met an electro celeb today!!!!], printed scripts [served by a hottie and an bonafide englishman - too many in berlin] and then got to work in the studio…

something magic happens in rehearsal spaces. always. and i always forget. today i remembered how to truly devise with someone else. something i had long forgotten, from pre RSAMD in fact… Chris is an opinionated generous man, performer and collaborator, and needless to say, we are on our way to properly exploring something more tomorrow.

vague? well, it’s art baby, and it’s all about interpretation.

he made me dance though, and watch myself on film. stressful that was.

had a drink in a glorious old school gay-bar [when in rome] that had people smoking in it. fucking brilliant. i was all for the ban, and to be honest i still am, but as a novelty, coming home slightly stinking of fags, exhaled by a bunch of fags feels and smells, brilliant.

hair was shaved – thankfully making a fist and draggin it across your scalp making a schzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz sound seems to be a universal signal for “i’d like to have my head shaved” – and now residing in the hotel nursing a small coccyx injury, lounging in my new nightie [beautifully patterned thick 70s shirt bought for 3EURO]

as a final sign off, i came across this poster today:

now, firstly the piece is called “made in dagenham”, now yes, for an international market, having the word “dagenham” as part of an advert is confusing [and not too appealing if you are familiar with the area] and secondly, as far as i’m aware the piece is about women’s working rights, as demonstrated in the top half of this poster

…so call me old fashioned by WHY would anyone then describe call the film”we want sex”, isn’t that entirely inappropriate.

no, sex is not what they want, they want equality, they want money, they want respect…

…don’t we all

n-night.

Over this next week I will be blogging daily about my experiences in the German capital, and so let’s call this entry 1, of 1…

4AM woke [after only 3 hours sleep] and preceded to wash, to be honest a fairly irregular thing for me at that time in the morning, but it did do the trick and help me wake fully, especially in lieu of having to walk for 30 MINUTES to clapham junction as I had no friggin cash left on the oyster.

why is it called an oyster card? it does not taste like the sea, it is not seen as a delicacy in any country [in fact quite the opposite] and it really really should be more convenient to use…

travel was, well, much more event-less than expected, i slept and woke at the right stations when needed. needless to say my Berlin arrival was somewhat groggy.

…it is wondrous when you encounter a kindred spirit. Chris and I have never spent more than a few hours together before. literally about 3 during August [oddly again when i had green hair - this man has never seen me with my natural brown], but from the moment we met up again, it was as if we’d never left, always been friends and my excitement for the week ahead, definitely outweighed the grogg.

Berlin is a very dynamic city, and more people speak english than i expected [a. noticing this fact made me very depressed and sorry and english - i really hate not knowing the language and b. realising i do have to lower my voice when speaking loudly and passionately about the homo-origin of pink associations being from nazi germany... eek]

things to note when immediately arriving:

• have someone meet you, it’s not ok to do everything yourself, depending upon your friends is what they’re there for, if they wanna meet you to help, let them, it’s so much more comforting than map wrestling
• in berlin, stick to the pavements, and that does not mean the cycle lanes, people will get pissed, and will try to run you over
• wait for the green man – j-walking as I am want to do, is not cool and is a frequently punished offence
• if you feel dodgy enough, know the man that buys cheap contraband travel tickets
• if you like pizza, and you want it cheap and fast go to amichi amichi near Mehringdamm U-Barn station – to die for
• berlin is friggin cold.

cultural trip number one was to the Schwules Museum http://www.schwulesmuseum.de/

wonderful wee independently run place… currently featuring a retrospective exhibition on Jean Genet, whom I am embarrassed to say I knew very little about.

and incidentaly… in his hey-day looks the spit of frantic assembly director steven hoggett…

… anyway. I am now downloading his classic Querelle and I was very aroused during the exhibition thank you: politically and sexually.

I witnessed a man nearly killing himself jumping onto the tracks at my station… only to realise he was searching for his brush, whom in brush with death, and returning to platform, brushed his hair, confidently at which I promptly laughed, and wonderfully, so did several other people on my platform, oblivious he was…

the haribo is amazing here

so is the beer

the hotel is ok

and so, I’m away

here’s a bike rack

chez chris scherer, berlin, 2010

i’m outtie till tomorrow, lots of dance and lots of words. orders of the day

xxx

do come along if you’re about…

much love markus

xxx

And then I dream about it, I dream I pull the hair and a parasitic Siamese twin gradually comes out, first the head, looking almost like an African shrunken skull, and then the gnarled face… of course, looking, like yours, only covered in puss and squealing. And then finally the under-developed body of a person spent their entire existence residing in a cheek emerges, perfectly formed, no blemishes, skin almost transparent, preserved perfectly as if in a science museum. And then, I look at it, it’s perfect, like a person with that aging disease, only with the smoothest skin like chamoise leather.

There’s nothing particularly bizarre about it, him, maybe it’s a him.

There’s nothing odd, really, and then I see it, like the hair, like the something you seem to be able to miss on an everyday basis, I see the one blemish… a sharp long nail on the right foot that could well be the cause of the irritation in your mouth. It could be, it’s not the cheek biting you apparently do in your sleep, although you always seem to be so deathly still when we do share our bed. On those rare occasions.

Does it make me a bad person to imagine it’s this little foetal twin, the embodiment of your negligence, slowly scratching away at the inside of your cheek, trying to poke through…

[inspired  by TH]

So I wish this wasn’t made by a company that had anything to do with Disney

So I wish that the larger man saying to me that he would like to come through the screen and hug me wasn’t quite so scary

So I wish that I knew Colin the cube mate

So I wish that I could share this with all the young people I have ever worked with but because of [sensible] internet privacy guidelines I can’t have them as my friends on facebook

So I wish that I was tougher sometimes when it comes to gay issues, and I didn’t just blub every time someone creates something touching about growing up gay and releases it as part of any mass media

So I wish that I worked for Pixar maybe

So I wish to God that the guy who’s just had 6 years with his boyfriend and gets really emotional thinking about the 9 steps he takes to walk up to his front door of his one bedroom apartment… stays… with his guy forever

So I wish typing that didn’t make me cry

So I wish that my sound confidante Fi didn’t know me as well as she does in sending me this

So I wish, that anyone who reads this, takes the 8 minutes, and looks at this beautiful little, video.