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It feels quite fitting that this was the last question I ever received on formspring. (And I'm sorry, Mr Bui, that it's taken me so long to get to it.)
There are lots of questions I'd like to ask many people, outside of formspring. One of my favourite things is asking people questions, and being asked questions. Despite being rather shy and awkward socially, when I manage to get past that, I love getting to know people.
But I don't think formspring a great way to do it. I feel like this site was never really about getting to know people. This site is less about communication, and more about striving to get the maximum possible number of people looking at you, seeing how fascinating you are. And I'm a bit over that kind of competition.
So, yes. There are many questions I'd like to ask people. People who are on formspring, and people who aren't. But I actually don't think this site is the place for that kind of sharing.
And with that... Adios, formspring! -
The gay cliché I like the most is the sensible-shoed, androgynous lesbian. I grew up with a sensible-shoed, androgynous lesbian couple as very close family friends, and have always found this type of person extremely appealing. Yes it's a cliché, yes this is all horrible generalisation, but I usually find them intelligent, level-headed, with a dry wit and a guileless smile that appears suddenly and at unexpected times. And they usually seem to like me too.
My least favourite gay cliché would have to be the body-obsessed, overly-skin-cared, sex-crazed, drug-fuelled club-hopper. Ugh. Get them away from me.
But each to their own, of course. -
In regards to dress, there would definitely be some kind of expansive robes involved, as well as a large collection of elegantly fitted, decorative brocade frock-coats. And a top hat. Possibly a monocle. As for the manner in which I'd rule, firstly I'd put everything important in the hands of a carefully-chosen team of experts. The thought of me trying to manage a global economy, or organise complex infrastructure, is frankly terrifying. Apart from that, there'd pretty much be one all-encompassing law: "For fuck's sake, try your best to be nice to each other."
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Oh, the pressure!
Artwork: Michelangelo's Pietà. I feel a bit reluctant to select something so specifically based in a certain religious faith. But taken simply as an image of a mother mourning her dead child, it captures something so beautiful about humans, and the way they care about each other.
Album: Since music is such a huge part of my life, this is a really tough one. (Am I allowed to cheat and take a mix tape?) I should probably take something by one of the great masters. But who to choose? Mozart? Rachmaninoff? Beethoven? Or do I go with something more modern? I'd be tempted to consider The Beatles' White Album, so my new alien overlords can experience some of the very best music ever recorded, along with the some of the very worst (i.e. Ringo's 'Don't Pass Me By'). Perhaps instead, I'll choose to demonstrate the pure happiness that human music can evoke, and take some of Louis Armstrong's joyously revolutionary early work.
Book: Most people would baulk at this, but I'm going to choose 'The Lord Of The Rings'. Or, if possible, some kind of Tolkien compendium that also includes 'The Silmarillion', etc. There are other books that I love just as much, if not more, and many of those are almost certainly more 'worthy'. But if humankind is going to cease to exist, I think it's important to keep an example of the sheer scope of human beings' astonishing ability to imagine, and their capacity to explore very real human experiences through the window of fantasy. -
I didn't have one in particular that lasted my whole childhood. There were a few different ones over the years.
The earliest, I think, was a cute golden-brown monkey with shining eyes, whose ear I eventually chewed off, but I still loved him. After that, for a long time I had a cuddly demon - a Melbourne Football Club mascot. In retrospect, this may have been my Dad's attempt to turn me into a proper boy who liked sports and suchlike. I guess I let him down on that one.
I must have got used to cuddling things. Now that I'm sleeping alone again, I still wake up every morning hugging one of my pillows. I wonder if I'll ever grow out of that. -
I would definitely choose the ability to control time.
I wouldn't want to change past events, or influence the future. I'd always be worried about making things even worse. And I don't necessarily mean time travel, either. I wouldn't mind being able to go backwards in time I suppose, to witness marvellous things. But I wouldn't want to see the future - too much of a philosophical head-fuck.
Mostly, I'd want to be able to stop or speed-up time itself. The ability to pause the world and take a breather, or speed things up so I can fast-forward through the crappy bits. That would be fantastic. -
I can't imagine any circumstances under which I'd consider doing such a thing.
I suppose it would involve lots of planning, and even then – in this day and age of surveillance and forensics – I don't actually think it would be possible. At any rate it seems like far too much bother. -
Oh, you know. Beige, taupe, something like that. It's a bit of a nonentity of a day, really.
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I'm going to assume "all the boring basic stuff" includes some kind of coconut-powered generator, so I have electricity. I'm also assuming that asking for anything that allows me to call home for help is cheating, and that simply listing five people I'd like to take with me is lame. So...
- Music. An iPod (or some equivalent) with a bunch of my favourite music on it.
- My guitar/a piano. Since I've neglected my own music for so long, a year trapped alone seems a good chance to get in some practice.
- A big fat book. Something pithy like 'Ulysses' or 'Infinite Jest' or 'In Search of Lost Time', that'll keep me occupied.
- Something to write with. Paper and pens, a laptop, it doesn't really matter.
- Actually, I will make that last choice a laptop, because I'd also take a case full of DVDs, and I'd need some way to watch them. The case would mostly be filled with 'Six Feet Under'. -
I'm going to go with:
- cookies & cream
- plain vanilla (necessary for accompanying desserts, etc)
- lemon gelato (does that count?)
- chocolate chip cookie dough -
Donatello. He was always my favourite. He was by far the most intelligent – always thinking about the problem at hand and coming up with an ingenious solution or wacky invention to save the day. And if his mind ever failed him, he had a massive fuck-off stick to hit things with. Plus, he wore purple.
Runner up here is Raphael. He had a great sardonic sense of humour; you could have a good time hanging out with him. The other two suck: Leonardo was wet and boring, and Michelangelo's tired pseudo-surfy lingo and try-hard "party-dude" persona were just plain irritating. -
I must be honest – the reason I was so vague about this in my original answer is because I had no idea what I'd be filled with. Damn you, fauxhemian, for calling me on my evasiveness!
Fortunately, a dear friend has come through in the nick of time. She just happened to email this afternoon, saying she thinks I'd be filled with pomegranate or spiced peaches. Both of which sound like good options to me. -
I found this question incredibly hard. But here's what I came up with, in no particular order:
The gorgeous Art Deco mosaic high on a building above Collins Street that reads, "I'll put a girdle round about the earth."
The alleyways completely covered in street art, like this: http://z.about.com/d/studenttravel/1/0/F/H/melbourne-graffiti.jpg
The fascinating collection of people who congregate at the Forum bar during MIFF (the Melbourne International Film Festival).
The sculpture garden at Heide gallery.
The various stores selling second-hand books and other randomness, along High Street in Northcote and Thornbury.
The nostalgia you feel when you hear the old-fashioned bell of one of the few remaining W-class trams.
The eels in the lake at the Botanic Gardens.
The uniquely absurd cultural institution that is 'Carols by Candlelight' at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl.
The particular way Melburnians like their coffee, and the passionate way they complain about how it's made everywhere else.
The smell in the air as a cool change sweeps through after a string of oppressively hot days. -
Firstly, the whole deal is off unless I can stipulate that some of the menagerie money can also be used to pay someone to take care of the animals. As I can barely keep a pot-plant alive, putting me in charge of an entire zoo is a very bad idea.
As for the animals, predictably enough, I'd start with a few monkeys and apes: white-cheeked gibbons, colobus monkeys, lemurs, tamarins, and Japanese macaques (if I was able to provide an enclosure cold and icy enough to keep them comfortable).
After that, I'd definitely want some pygmy hippos, a couple of red pandas, and perhaps a few otters.
And, of course, I'd keep a lamprey in a tank, specifically to upset you. -
No, I haven't.
There was one particularly drunken Christmas party, during which I pashed many of my close friends, most of whom happen to be women. But that is the most lady-love I've ever experienced. -
I must admit I've never got into Home and Away. That's not brand loyalty, or team barracking, I've honestly just never got round to watching much of it.
As for Neighbours, there are a few storylines I wish I'd had a hand in. But there's one that stands out. Picture it with me, if you will...
It's the 2004 season finale. Lou's pub is engulfed in flames. The fire spreads to the coffee shop; the whole complex is burning to the ground! Gus is killed, Max is knocked for a six by an explosion, Harold is distraught at losing his beloved Madge's recipe book. The neighbours gather, tears in their eyes, watching as the heart of their community is utterly destroyed.
Then, from behind the crowd, out of the smoky darkness steps Paul Robinson. PAUL MOTHERFUCKEN ROBINSON! Ramsay Street's former resident dastardly scoundrel, who hasn't been seen in a decade. He slowly joins the crowd and surveys the destruction.
And he smiles.
BEST. FINALE. EVER. -
If fish is a strict category, then I choose chicken. But if fish were broadened to include all kinds of seafood, then I'd choose seafood.
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I think I'd at least give myself a second look – I'd probably even consider approaching and starting up a conversation. And I'd probably quite enjoy that conversation.
Unfortunately it's quite likely I'd misread the other me's shyness as aloofness, or even arrogance, and assume he (I?) wasn't interested.
I need to stop thinking about this now; it's kind of a head fuck. Imagining myself trying to pick myself up makes me feel like a character in a Borges story. Or a very, VERY low budget sequel to 'Being John Malkovich'.
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