Old Women...hmph...Ageism against Bigots? Is it wrong?

On wednesday night the play opened! It went exceptionally well! The audience loved it, the actors loved it, the director was almost crying with relief. It was almost the perfect night except for 3 old women in the front row.

3 old women who found any use of profanity hilarious, even when it was used in a context as far from funny as you could find.

As for the references to homosexuality within the play, I thought they were going to be brought to coronary care. They giggled their way through what is one of the most heartbreaking scenes, just because it was 2 men struggling with their feelings for one another.

It got to a point where I almost had to stop on stage, it was rude and interfering. It felt like a pantomime.

I understand that people are from different generations, and might be made to feel uncomfortable by seeing this story on stage but to guffaw (and I use the term in true sincerity) as they did was both upsetting as an actor but also as a person.

My mother, who herself struggled in coming to terms with my sexuality, had to sit through people who had not one shred of culture laughing at me in what was a clearly defined, poignant and heart breaking scene listening to biggoted old women who thought the idea of 2 men, possibly having feelings for each other hilarious.

The same people who cry at the ridiculous storylines on Coronation Street, adore the campness of Paul O'Grady and have no idea of the reality behind these peoples public personas.

Never before have I felt more uncomfortable in a performance, not just in being the character but in being myself.

Welcome....

After so long considering what to do about my grievances, musings, thoughts and bitchings; so long having them wrapped up in my sweet little mind, I've decided to unleash them on the world. No man, woman, child, Political Party, NGO, pub, club, venue or publication will be spared if they cross my path.

The life of a gay twenty something in this fair country is something I think has been neglected in Irish Media outlets. Sure we have bars, clubs, youth groups but do people really know what the "scene" (shudder) is or even more intriguing the non-scene? What really goes on inside the rainbow flagged doors of this country? And aside from that most visual of places, do people know what being Gay means in the context of 21st century Ireland?

This isn't a blog about being gay, worry not dear readers. That was just to set the background of where my life presently sits along this mortal coil. My life isnt dictated by sexuality, but I am fascinated by those lives which are. But my current mood means that I need a rant.... thats out of the way for the moment though.

Today I took a holiday...I needed one....badly. I work in an outbound call centre for god's sake. With the possible exception of the Fire Service, its about as close as you can get to hell. Add to that, that I am in the final week of rehearsal for a play that has taken so much out of me in the last 5 weeks, I can't wait for it to finish. Dolly West's Kitchen, by Frank McGuinness. Frank who is now the resident writer in UCD, is a bit of an odd creature. We're never quite sure what he's trying to say, which is a bit of a balls really, espeacially for me.

But alas it does deal with a lot of "deep shit" as some might say. Very deep...so deep I'm afraid to explain it to my mother as it mirrors an all to familiar situation in my own reality.

We're close now though, and its taken on a life of its own......Donegal never sounded so risquee...