Gettin figgy wid it

Greetings from once-cool, now just chilly Portishead, where I'm determined to cling on to the last of my Christmas spirit at least until Boxing Day teatime: an exercise which at present feels like that thing you do with an apparently empty jar of Marmite that you know will always, unfailingly, if you scrape around long enough, yield just enough of the brown stuff to cover a slice of toast.

Little to report except having had a seriously lovely gig at the Klinker last Thursday -- I can't remember doing a reading that felt more enjoyable (or more warmly received). The new Klinker venue at the Cross Kings is a strikingly perfect room for the club, and it was a great line-up: I loved Plakka's party-electro reconfiguring of (what I eventually figured out was) the Pointer Sisters' 'Automatic', they're a really neat band (as all groups with xylophones are, de facto); and the closing set from Fuck Off Batman was like being immobilized with a taser by Tourettes Santa. A great night; and a wretched world, that all but four of the people I love missed out on such fun.

Two Christmas messages:

The important one first. Please, whatever else you do, I really do urge you, whoever and wherever you are, to sign the petition in opposition to the threatened destruction of Queerupnorth. The line-up for '08 is seriously exciting -- a new solo from Neil Bartlett, a collaboration between Taylor Mac and Justin Bond, a new Stephen Petronio piece made with Antony and the Johnsons, Gisele Vienne and Dennis Cooper's Jerk and Kindertotenlieder...; and '09 will include my next solo, The Adventures of Wound Man and Shirley. None of this will happen if the Arts Council recommendation for the withdrawal of funding is not successfully opposed -- and Queerupnorth's incredibly valuable work in reaching queer teens and countering homophobic bullying will also be halted. Please do whatever you can to lend your voice in support: as Jed Bartlet says, decisions are made by those who show up. (Though admittedly he says that shortly before being shot by a neo-fascist sniper, which proves the point in a more mordant way than one might wish.)

The marginally less important one: Why let relatives and To the Manor Born spoil your Christmas when you can ruin your own so completely by allowing yourself to become obsessive about the Thompson's Christmas Quiz? Not to give too much away, but the prize is still very much up for grabs.

Finally, here's a little video I made in response to a call at Dennis's, which I'm now sharing here because, frankly, I didn't get you anything else. It doesn't look that great scaled down to streaming-friendly size and bitrate so if you want a DVD quality copy, email me and I'll send you one in the post. (Note: The content is a little bit saucy and possibly not work-safe. Though what are you doing at work on Christmas Eve? Damn The Man!)

Right, well, that's it then. Merry Christmas and, as Kermit's nephew Robin says, God bless us every one. I'll be back with the promised furtivities before the year is out.