Music:'Angry White Boy Polka', 'Weird Al' Yankovic.
I'm sad that I wasn't able to go to Pride. (Too ill.) Much sadder that I wasn't able to work up the enthusiasm to even watch Live 8. Apart from occasionally flicking over to check whether anyone interesting was on (mostly, not) and listen to Midge Ure because I love him. And he was asked a question and in his answer he didn't know how many concerts were going on around the world. Oh, Midge. It's all right. Nobody else knows, either, because the only coverage of Live 8 in the press has been about how useless it is and who's making money from it and Bob Geldof frothing at the mouth and then proving he makes a better woman than Cherie Blair. It's all just a bit too distressing.
Still, my corset fits again and so if I do make it out to Gay Shame tonight I might go the whole Victorian death mask way. Then again, I may just stay in and cross stitch. For Africa! Only not.