Golden Globes so black: #Time’sUp

We all heard the rumours; danced beside the whispers, caught glimpses of the secret handshakes and felt more than witnessed the subtext behind every ‘what will you be wearing this Sunday’ question.

We all wondered what form Hollywood would take in the face of such tumultuous times; it’s no secret that this is an industry, an institution and beast that has a history of staring the little man in the face and barrelling through newly attempted paths toward inclusivity, sensitivity and equality, like a beautified-silicone-kale-eating-mammoth-ghoul from a Brian Singer flick… (shady boots I am…) while farting furiously into the winds of change.

We stared daggers at that red carpet, waiting, pitchforks and torches at the ready, breaths bated and eyes watering… and what a carpet it became. Like beauty spots on the face of a young ingénue, or rather, dark freckles on an exotic model, the world’s most beautiful people occupied the iconic Beverly Hilton with the bravado of a well trained army and the finesse of a flock of flamingos in Kevin Spacey’s backyard…(oooh shade).

There was something rightfully dramatic about the entire thing; how everyone marched across that carpet looking like something out of a Woody Allen funeral scene…(light shade)

It was beautiful, not so much the dresses, but the solidarity; to witness, in my time, the world’s elite using their bodies, not just their publicists, wallets or whimsical words, to stand in protest against the ugly face of sexual harassment, on a stage and platform where the world has no choice but to watch and listen.

The sentiment was as resonant as the cries of women and men brave enough to take a stand and shout out into the faces of their accusers and those that protect them; Time’s up.

The time for silence is up, the time for being a spectator and not speaking or acting against such crude behaviour, is up and the time for complacency is up.

The fat cat’s time’s up.

Hollywood used the 75th Golden Globes to stand on the shoulders of the many women that have tried to speak up before them, and they used that opportunity to lift the voices of the many who could not speak, who will not speak and who want to speak, but have either been shut down, violently silenced, further victimised or disregarded.

I mean the actual show wasn’t as exciting as I would have liked it to be; save for Amy Poehler being the absolute best, and Ms Oprah Winfrey doing what Oprah Winfrey does best as the future president of the world, the event lacked the kind of forward feeling diversity this industry has made a vow to honour. However, this is a discussion for another day.

Today, however, I take my hat off to an industry famed for its aloof and tone deaf stances in the face of a rapidly awakening social audience that demands more than pretty faces and perfect teeth. Maybe it has something to do with the fact this didn’t come from the top, more from the men and women who we’re slowly realising aren’t above the world, but are a part of it too.

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What in the American Gods is going on here?

Okay so I’m a fan of dark, interesting and generally cool series that feature supernatural and paranormal themes, amongst many others.

So when I caught wind of something new coming to our screens, I was practically ‘foaming at the mouth’ excited. I didn’t know what it was all about to be honest, but the name and the little I did hear made it a thing to get into.

So there I was, ready to dive headfirst into a world I was desperate to obsess over and when it finally aired, I was both thrilled and confused as hell.

I mean, I love it; American Gods definitely gives me the creepy, cult-y vibe that I was hoping to get, but it also has a very French-y vibe to it in that the silences are just as important as the parts that have all of the screaming, talking, making out and sex. But, what I also mean is that as with some of those French-y films, I tend to get lost along the way a little bit, before something happens and I’m suddenly back on track; or at least I convince myself that it’ll eventually make sense so I stick with it and smile through the parts that go over my head and enjoy the cool looking bits.

Anyway, five episodes in and I’m still a fan, but also still very confused, but most importantly, I’m sitting there thinking “what in the meth smoking mess am I watching right here right now?”, because let’s be honest, there are moments that completely mind-f@#& you.

1) Did you guys clock that seductress that ate that man with her hoo-hoo? I mean what in the BDSM hell was that? I had to re-watch that a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining it, because I’ve never witnessed anything remotely close to that. She’s doing sex the feminism way; it’s definitely different. And she did it to a number of men too. I don’t know what her deal is, and part of me really wants to google her and find out, but I want to roll with it and see how things turn out because that was some other level messed-up-ness right there.

2) Then we have the fact that Shadow Moon’s (we have to discuss that name, by the way) wife was having an affair with his friend and she died giving him a… she was bagpiping him in the car…you know; gumming the green bean, honkin’ bobo, giving brain, huffing bone, giving a French abortion, fluting, charming the snake, that kind of thing. I felt for the dude, especially since he found out at her funeral, the day after he was released from jail.


3) The lynching: I mean seriously. I was all kinds of shook when the weird faceless men came for Shadow Moon and then had the nerve to die, in the weirdest ways too. Then we find out it was his dead wife- who came back to life – thanks to a leprechaun’s lucky coin – who saved Shadow’s life from the faceless men and i guess she loses an arm because of it, but she sews it back again?…yeah, things go tits up in the believability scale, but I LOVE IT!!!

4) The sex scene with the Jinn taxi driving dude and the salesman. That was by far the sexiest thing in the entire series so far, and I say that quite comfortably with my sexuality intact. I mean it was grungy, it was real-ish, we saw peen and a climax that looked like fire but it was okay, and then the salesman became the cab driver himself…like, if you’re confused, trust me so am I, but ride it with me (that was an unfortunately placed pun, but I’m not mad about it).

5) Media (who is one of the new gods) looks like Marilyn Monroe and bitchslaps the tech boy who has the faceless goons who lynched Shadow Moon, because she wanted tech boy to apologise to shadow for doing that, but her version of a bitchslap is blowing a kiss that knocks two of your teeth out…try eating bread after that.

I could go on and on about all the things that confused the hell out of me but also drew me in closer, but I’d rather you watch it for yourself and enjoy it with me.

I’m a fan, I want more, I need more because if I stop now, I’m never going to understand a damn thing about this world.

 

The – modern – Man Cave

Gone are the days where man caves were a hole in the wall, in a distant corner, where the air smells of testosterone and beer and the walls were as dark the inside of a crack den (not that I have any experience with crack dens).

We live in a time that not only welcomes racial diversity, but is eagerly embracing sexual and gender diversity as well. So it should only make sense that previously established institutions, founded on the archaic standards from an era passed, should just as openly welcome this swiftly changing social landscape.

What am I babbling on about? I’m talking about man caves; what was once an institution (yes, a hard fought for institution) that served as a means for men to gather with their comrades and share with them the spoils of being the apex predator, to have a safe-haven of their own and to hang their feet up, can now be an inclusive forum that does all that, but also delves into topics previously thought of as too feminine or ‘soft’.

The modern man cave isn’t just a space for men to gather, have a cold one and shoot ‘the shit’ with one another; it’s also a space where men are able to feel comfortable in exploring the many shades within their community. To be a man today is to be a caregiver, to be a lover, a protector, a friend, a spokesperson for injustice and inequality, a lover of all things sci-fi, a gentle pacifist, an aggressive lobbyist, a wine connoisseur, a make-up and skincare enthusiast, a petrol head and so much more.

To be a modern man is to understand that masculinity can be fragile and to work towards being men or our word and not only our works. The modern man cave includes a caucus as diverse as the many experiences the modern man is exposed to.

That’s what TribalMushrooms strives to bring to light and navigate.

This is a forum for the colourful expression of the many shades of man this beautifully complicated world has to offer. The many interests, the many allies and social wrongs that men today fight for, with and against.

Be it the cis-gendered man, transgendered, gay, straight, bi-sexual, metrosexual, spornosexual, pan-sexual, non-binary, queer, asexual or many more, this is a voice for all. Come one, come all; the perspective may be from a male’s point of view, but the content can interest and inspire any gender and sexual orientation.

Mushrooms – Sylvia Plath

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Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot’s in the door