Bear, Damn It, it's a dirty word at least to me!

Exhibit A: these guys look more like two men whom are more happy at a beer bust at XXL or The Eagle, The Cuckoo's Nest where ever, than they would at say New York Fashion Week in Bryant Park. Looking at these two you would never guess that they love Crepe De Chine just as they love them ugly ass flannel shirts bears like to wear as uniform. Some one called me a bear once and I flipped my shit. I am not a bear nor do I growl or rub hairy men in cottages, both public or residential. To me Bear Is a dirty word. Kind like saying your a power bottom just cause your just fucking lazy. The bear craze has become the clone for the new millennium, and it's kinda depressing. You have bears, muscle bears, cubs, silver foxes, otters, chubs and chasers. Since when did a gay bar turn into a fucking zoo? It seems if you place your flannel on with a hoodie and some buck skin Timberland boots, viola, you're a bear. Don't get me wrong a dog will always choose a bone with some fat and meat on it over a plain old bone. But bear craze is a little out of hand.

I remember when every guy wanted to look like a leather man or 70's clone, a look that I think always looks good. Clean, rough, masculine and a bit working class. The Bear looks like he hibernates in a cabin in Ottawa Canada, and we all know how I feel about Canada. NIggah Pah-lease! You ain't ever seen a cabin and from the size of that waist, looks like your ass never hiked much either. More like ate a cabin. If you want to look like the active outdoors type, try taking your ass out doors. I am not fat-o-phobic, but this bear fetish sometimes borders on just plain silly. I was on a bear retreat once with a former friend. Let me explain. My friend at the time was up for The Final Mr Bear Uk and offered and asked me to come along for moral support. Well I did. Out of the 300+ there I was only attracted to a guy from Ireland whom had a boyfriend. His Husbear cock blocked me every time his partner approached me. So short of pulling a Tonya Harding and taking a fucking crow bar to the dudes knees, the Guy from Ireland found me alone and we made a hasty exit for a few hours alone in a graveyard, in front of a church in the hills of Derby at around midnight. So for this I will probably burn in hell, oh well. My friend was furious with me cause I left and missed the contest and the his husbear made a scene upon our return for huge entertainment to those whom witnessed his shit storm. I was single and homie knocked on my door, what should I say no for. I liked him and he liked me. It wasn't like we went to pick out china patterns.


This happened on the 2nd day of the event, after watching countless men lie around rubbing each others bellies and growl. Not fun, and definitely not hot. I did it cause I was bored and the guy was hot. As lame as the excuse was, that was my part. He wasn't really a bear but he had natural dark red hair, and green eyes, a killer sleeve and at 6'4 he marked all my boxes physically. We caught each others attention at the event mixer, but for some reason I was not allowed to go near the guy and vice versa. Every other dude was fair game to him but me. So I don't go to "bear" dances, our even want to wear their uniform. I would never want to join a club that would have me for a partner. My partner isn't even a bear. He is Irish though. But these dudes whom were once thought to be out casts by the beauty obsessed gay community have become some what their own worst enemy. Bear flags, bear clothes, bear books, bear nights, coffee mugs and iconography to associate them with, oh yes the bear. Jesus, it sounds like Scientology. At first you think, yeah there cool then they drop the word "Scientologist Bear", and your all I out. I just don't understand why some men need to label something like maculinity with the word bear, as if it makes it much more masculine? Straight guys don't say I am mechanically straight or surfer straight. If you hve an answer I would like to hear it.

Pretty Like A Drug!

At the church of Katie Jane Garside, she is a mixture many elements that clash and compliment the female psyche.
Lost angel, mythical creature, sexual siren and damaged doll, poet, are key elements to her allure and mystery. She is what she
is and there is no denying her talent. With the release of Queenadreena's latestDjin I have been a fan since her first band of Daisy Chainsaw.
Much like Bjork or Tori Amos, Katie Jane garners a cult like following and she is hands on with her fans offering art, comics, clothes, and music that is tailor made by her for you. Out of todays manufactured female pop stars Ms. Garside is something of extraordinary talent and originality. I am often mesmerized by her voice and the music she delivers, flipping the bird to the music industry by make her work a more personal platform, she is a true artist. If you get the chance to see the brite force of a Queenadreena show, or the soft beauty of Ruby Throat, it is a delight to see her preform. By any means go.

Por Vida Y-Que!

Growing up I can say I lived in a barrio, that was downtown Santa Ana. I wasn't allowed to wear Wino shoes and go the path that my father did. You see my dad grew up with a gang mentality and spent a good amount of his formative years in Juvenile Hall. So my dad made sure that both me and my brother would grow up safe from harms way. Away from the hands of cholos and trouble, both him and my mother worked hard to do the best they could and raise us right. Still I had two uncles whom had tattoos early on and they were related to the barrio that they were raised in as well. My uncle Chino is dead now and my Uncle Gilbert is in prison for life on his third strike. So I can understand the association with the raza and the movumente, that my dad and his brothers once followed to some degree. I can see it forming an adoptive family and an ingredient often missing in these mens lives. Belonging, to something that accepts them no matter how flawed.

I was made aware that Honduras and Central America, which suffers from some of the harshest and highest crime rate in the world. Put into action a plan to curb gang related crime and activity. Gang tattoos are easily identified, and are considered a hinderance to those whom where them. Making gang members search for more subtle ways to pledge association. Some find it hard to find work and realise that they are now moving targets, and some are preferring to rebuke the activity and allegiance all together. Putting into place harsher punishment for those caught violating laws and signalling out the gang tattooed members. This hardline has made some gang related members rethink their path in life and the government tries and helps them remove their tattoos, to assist them in a new life. This has been most effective on the youngest members of gangs.



Although Pena (pronounced Pen-Yah) art is popular with the masses, and tattoo artists like Mister Cartoon who is it's most visible vanguard help place it in another forum altogether. Out of the barrio and into Gallery Spaces. When I look at these type of tattoos, I always think it's a shame they just didn't pick something more personal. But The gang claims the body with the tattoo work. There is a site that displays tattoo work by those associated with gangs, and after looking at a few tattoos, I came to the conclusion that most were done by a hommie or house artist. Most gang members never want to pay what a professional would charge. Perhaps cause they don't have the money or you need to be affiliated with one particular artist, like the Yakuza. At least the Yakuza have some impressive work and artists. When I was working at Funny Farm Tattoo, there was a guy from Japan called Anarchy Man, whom cut off his patch of tattoo that he was working on, when he met a girl whom would have nothing to do with him and his acquaintance. So he went to his boss and was instructed he could leave but the tattoo stayed with them. That was fucking bad ass, cuase he took a razor to his arm and now a scar that looks much like a burn remains, and a small portion of a peony.

Silent & Beautiful

They say pictures are worth a thousand words and these are speaking millions. Soft silent and sexual, they pull you in to another world. I love the Woman with the curves and the guys are stunning. Exterface is a french photographer from Paris whose keen eye is something quite extraordinary.

Dorks With Tattoos!

It was bound to happen with tattoos. The uniform of black t-shirt, drain pipes, (hysterictamy pants I call them) and the stupid grin begging for street cred. At 41 I have seen alot of stuff and now I feel like one of those old grouchy men whom turn the sprinklers on at kids and scream at them, ordering them off my lawn. Been there done that. To the point where my doctor has said my liver is in massive need of TLC and a major detox. Sure sex, drug and rock n' roll can be fun. But it seems that kids today must have the sleeves and the whole shebang to fit in. MOre like a uniform than rather an expresion of individuality. Pretty soon you look like every fucking one else nothing cool about that. Not so individual, or free from expression. Sure a tattoo is a tattoo, but it's a time line to me and my understanding. I am confused when I see kids younger than me whom are covered with shit on them, and yet are no where near being comfortable in their own skins to think for themselves. Like girls with Sacred Heart Refrigoraters. WTF! It's a shame.


When I went to party's people would think I was an asshole cause I didn't want to talk about tattoo's with them. Like I was some elitist. Not so. I just spent eight hours talking shop at work, the last thing I want to do is talk about it on my time off. Nuff said. Sure I get some kids whom like my work and think what I do is cool, and I am honored they want something from me. Be it a small butterfly to a rotting heart sleeve complete with bat wings(S'up Daniel). I try and make the piece a visual illustration. But dudes like that moron from BMTH are just plonks that need to wipe their asses and buy a fucking vowel. Sure they have hordes of fans and threaten anyone whom crosses their beloved band, but it's nothing new. No new ground covered. News flash, any asshole in tattoos and drainpipes can scream or gruttle his ass off in front of kids. It doesn't take a rocket science to make impressionable kids think your interesting just casue you happen to be on stage. I am not a fan of Metalcore, Shitmetal, Dorkmetal, death dork, whatever. To me it sucked then and it still sucks now. I could understand loving Joy division as a kid, but he was a epiliptic suicidal manic depressive, he wasn't posing as some poncy tattooed dork from the burbs,



So with Oliver Sykes allegedly urinating on girls whom diss his sexual advances, he might want to rethink his fucking game plan with his band. Or how he approaches girls to suck his dick. It wont be long before kids start offing themselves declaring it Suicide Season inthe name of their beloved band. This too will be nothing new and disgruntled parents will start pointing the finger at the band rather than at themselves.
There is a documentary coming out that I am excited to see about the Noweigan Black Metal Scene and the people whom build their lives around this sub culture. The directors did so by living with them and building relationships for a more intimate look into the music and get a deeper understanding of whatthe appeal os to some. Grindcore and all has it's place, sure. Yet when I am listening to music I want a fucking good riif and a dirty bass line over the drivel those dorks from Bring Me The Horizon do anyday of the week. I think it's reat to be young and angry at a world that doesn't understand you, sure. But if your going to express yourself through a tattoo make fucking sure you speak loud and clear and make your exact point. That is something that some young people have difficulty doing in the first place isn't it?

Screaming Mad Bitch!

As Fuck Yeah Horror is on hiatus, as my good buddy takes a sabbatical. I have made Screaming Mad Bitch, to fuel my horror geek in me. Screaming mad bitch will place it foot in the lakes that is the b-movie, the video nasty and of course horror, and mayber the odd whore here and there. Cause you gotta have titty. I named this blog as such because all horror films have some screaming mad bitch, and was also an homage to Screaming Mad George as well. I don't plan to do anything specific with the blog, as just to vent my bon vivant for the much loved horror genre.

It will be brash and bawdy, like my self and my drunk alter ego, you might even find funny. So much to the chagrin of my partner he must think I am obsessed or a part time serial killer. Ahh, bless him. So I hope you like it. Let me know. Being that Bloody Disgusting is bullshit, they should just call that site fucking bloody shit! Those guys don't know their asses from their elbows, let alone fuck all about horror. You would think that those guys on the site, suck dick for kick backs and passes to films. But truth be told. I miss speaking with Jimbo and hope he's ok while he's taking care of himself. Much love man.

Infante Terrible De Danse.

My self and my partner are huge fans of David Bowie, I have my aunt Jane to thanks for that. Because of her, the seed was planted. I was fortunate enough to get two tickets to the sold out show at the Barbican to watch The Michael Clark Company preform " Come Been Gone" an homage of Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and David Bowie. Bren had never seen them preform so I made sure he go to see this show. I was more than excited to see the person whom put dance to Mark E. Smith's music. He didn't disappoint. Clark has always been on the fringes of contemporary dance with his rock and roll swagger and his bad boy reputation. So, this performance certainly did sweeten the pot to a hall full of people, wanting to see his return to form.


Broken in three performances, the sound track included his love for The Fall, Velvet Underground, Iggy Pop, and the show stopping Bowie. The first time I heard of Michael Clark was through the performance art of Leigh Bowery, whom collaborated together often and were close friends. This was, B.H. Before Henry Hate came to London. I can say that with this sow travelling around, it is worth a look to anyone into the music. Spiked with humour and excellent precision, Michael Clarks company delivered the goods, with a homage to a time gone past, and a selection of Bowies, Berlin era and the epic "Heroes," it virtually moves you. I thought this was a valentine to his youth and the music of that time. Even the programme was issued in a mock glossy 45' record sleeve, complete with the three rock heroes on the cover. The show ends with a favourite of mine "Jean Jeanie, that took me back to my childhood and my first arrival here in London in 98, dancing in the basement of club of Madame Jo Jo's night Kitsch Bitch 11 years ago. It did inspire me visually as the dancers were somewhat Asexual rather than asserting roles of man and woman. If you get the chance go, even if you're not a fan of contemporary dance, you'll be glad you did. Even if you just want to look at nice asses in titght costumes designed Body Map.



So let's here this opus to a youth and Berlin. Enjoy..
For Bren. Not that I want to move to Berlin and get strung out on smack while turning tricks in a subway terminal. But still a great Film.