Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Sunday, January 15, 2006

14 January - Britney & Me

Clearly the best thing to do the night before getting up really early to catch a flight to India is to be in a recording studio. Not! A friend needed help with the cheesy lyrics of a song that had to be translated into one of the languages I speak. I did this easily, only no one had explained to me how metrics are important when it comes to songs. I thought we could just chop and change a few words and make them fit in with the line/melody but oh no... it has to be down to the right number of syllables. And no other european language is as concise as English. So it was that with mounting horror, myself and the gorgeous Luca who had been drafted in to sing the guide vocal to the tune I translated, saw our Friday night evaporate.

We valiantly tried till we had practically changed the song completely (it couldn't even be called Open Your Heart any more as the main chorus line was changed to 'Wherever you'll be' to make it fit in the other language). And we had a major laugh for 3 hours searching google for synonims and even trying to crib from song lyrics of other successful latin warblers, but then we had to give up. It needed hours of the same treatment, and then dropping every line into a computer programme that would smooth it all out. Actually the computer does half of this, the rest is Saint Sean the engineer. The only consolation was that I got a master lesson in recording from my friend (producer of top people like Hung Up Madge, B, the mad icelandic woman, and ta-ra'! miss trailer trash herself, Britney. The engineer said she sat on my stool when she was recording here last. Kevin was nowhere in sight but la Brit was preggers. Would be something if in a year's time I had a #1 of some kind (obviously not a record or a sporting achievement - must come up with something else), a profligate hubby I can keep throwing out of the house - but he loves me really - and a beautiful baby called Bradford or something. It's true as I had heard, that Britney does need help with a tune (nobody in her entourage had actually ever told her she can't sing that well) but apparently she does know how to come up with a melody and a song. Bless. Don't hav her albums but many a time have envied the dance routines. And the snakes round her neck.
I'll let you know when the tune reaches Enrique Iglesias' levels of success. Forgot to ask for a sleeve credit.

Friday, January 13, 2006

13 January - Sandals & Sun

It’s that time of the year again, the one where I travel to a place where life is shitty in comparison to London and get reminded of extreme personal luck and freedom of growing up in the West and in possession of passport and cash. Yep, going to India. Yep it’s sunny there, but would you want to be ‘sold’ to your in-laws and have to be a servant to your mother in law FOREVER? Or be prevented by poverty/traditions from learning to read and write? No, didn’t think so. And yes, not wanting to offend the whole subcontinent but am not talking about professional classes in Bombay here.
Feel safe in India... never fancy anyone there for a start which frees up more time to read instead of arranging dates. Ok there are plenty of other tourists but if they appear to wear sandals throughout the year, cleary I avoid them.
Ok am off and have got the following precious lesson imparted by good friend Izzy ‘Do less that you did the day before’. Pretty valid on holiday that is…especially not a long one where the danger is to carry on living life at same pace as normal and traipse around, trying to fit it all in when in fact learning from the Buddha’s stance under a tree would be best. Shall try.

12 January - Gays & same old story

Time to go and see the gay friends as am tired of my life. No murderer has written in yet. Typically my one gay friend in London (at the moment) is very macho looking, lovely short beard, extremely handsome build, and has a normal deep voice. I’m not too fond of falsetto and cutesy fairy looks. I ask him about his work and love life and typically, it’s just full of the same stuff as any hetero, as evidenced by what the broody Spaniard tells me “I met a fan tas tic MAN, sorta Viking style. Should meet him this weekend. Only pity is that I also met the loveliest Enrico, who seems to be very interested but I wasn't sure the chemistry was all there for me... after such a long time waiting for a nice guy I get two! Funny how life goes, Enrico is the one I would guess I would want more, but boy would I be wrong...” It all sounds familiar from my girlfriends. So I still would like a crim to come forward please.
On reflection, I know another 3 gays at work, but I work with them and they’re unlikely to share any major personal info. I just tease them about clothes and accessories. They are of the ‘spend all my money on myself’ variety: cars, clothes, enviable trips abroad. They seem to handle the ‘no kids/no family’ scenario rather well. Actually just thought of another one, older, same team here. Blimey! 4 out of 34 - there’s more gays than women!

10 January - Resolutions & Murderers

NYE resolutions. Can’t think of any…Gosh , don’t have to make any. Don’t even need to lose weight or take up exercising or stop smoking or drink less or get a new job. It’s all boringly perfect. I could ask to make more money but that’s coming, it was organised a while back in ’05. I think I need some stronger resolution, something more life changing… I would like to meet a murderer or killer for example. Male or Female. Someone still at large, I really can’t be having with correspondence and prison visits. Here or on the others side of the world. But would be a change from the routine to talk about the stuff of forensic TV programmes perhaps. Not that I watch any. I kind of know about CSI etc but never seen an episode. My TV life is dull. Got no time for it.
So yes, someone not in the usual circle from which my new friends are fished. I mean, the only new person I met last week casually in a bar, turns out to work for Conde’ Nast Traveller - we’ve already established that am not part of their favourite readership or rather, I read the mag but do not make any of their advertisers happy as do not purchase tailor made holidays or logo-ed luggage. Rick has a Mandarina Duck as a suitcase. I have a knock off LoweAlpine rucksack, stylishly black if you like, but it does embarrass the odd partner & family when instead of carrying it by the handle on short European trips I insist on hoisting up my shoulders. Turns out Rick lives 5 mins from my house. He was surprised I belong to the same neck of the woods as him. He had me down for more upscale neighbourhoods. Which is sweet. I do project well. But in any case it means we can't exchange exotic tales from South or North of the river, we can just talk about dogshit on our respecive strees.
So, to go back to the plan, I require new friends with risky /dangerous/ crim careers who will not be members of Soho clubs and will not talk about the decline of style. And possibly not about Big Brother either. We don’t watch it but still manage to know who’s in it! Something is wrong. But not as wrong as wanting to meet a crim you may think. Well, let’s see if any are reading this and can tell me some new stories. But if that makes me an accomplice then not sure it's a good idea officer.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

7 January - Ropes & Bushes

Btw, a while back I broke the spell of chasing the super sized cock. How refreshing. Will it stay unbroken? And will I survive the possible dearth of kink? Have not delved into whether he is or isn’t that way inclined, but my instincts say no. In fact we went to the Araki exhibition and the bondage aspect of it clearly is not a turn on to him. Not to me either or at least not with those ugly ropes tied in a far too methodical and ritualistic fashion for my liking. Plus am not that patient. I guess it takes a good hour to tie them up and just as long to undo the knots, especially if you should be hanging from a ceiling and by the time your circulation returns perhaps you just want to go for a bowl or ramen. We discuss the lack of western turn-ons in the photos, the stockings and suspenders for example. Japanese man just likes his kimonos parted at strategic places. Not sure if he likes the little plastic Godzilla monsters that Araki dots around the photos, mini would be attackers. Surrounded by so much flesh on display, we end up liking a photo of a girl in a swimming pool. You just see her beautiful face, neck and shoulders above the water.

All Araki’s (younger) models are in possession of nice bushes. They are huge in fact. For a start the hair is straight and still manages to be neat, stark black against the porcelain skins, nothing on the sides. I guess they are soft hair, if not.. that would turn me off. I chose the opportunity to ask if he likes them and with a little more prodding I get an admission that he prefers it that way. Ohnowhattodo? Just when I was considering, just for a change, trying Swarovski crystals dotted on my smooth pubic area in a nice design…or an initial, but that probably only impresses a chav or the kind of guy who fancies Paris Hilton. He’s more sophisticated than that and more earthy at the same time if he likes it untouched by the salon. Will take me months to grow it and won’t be soft or straight or even one shade at this, er. mid-life point. And will he appreciate the effort I go to just for him? Or maybe I’ll surround myself with beautiful flowers instead; Araki’s photos of turgid flowers are incredibly beautiful. He doesn’t sell prints, but if he did, I’d want them all.

4 January - Pimping & Ex lovers

Drink at the Sanderson with a woman a lovely and kooky woman I met at a party before Xmas. Kooky is a compliment in my book in case she’s reading. We were drawn to each other like little moths to a flame. Bonded instantly over mutual ‘You certainly don’t look your age darling’ though to be perfectly honest she’s had some work done and some is in progress and I remain free from additives, though not on principle. So yes, I may check out her fabulous doctor one day.
‘S funny as Dear John has asked me to the party and when I arrived he had already established a quick link with her, BB is how I know her as, on account of the Bardot lips and wide eyed look. He told me she writes a blog about not getting any sex and I said ‘No way! That woman certainly doesn’t go hungry and you’ve got some to give her later right?’ He protested too much and denied any interest which surely was sounded fake as why would you or anyone not be interested in a gorgeous kitten? I told him I’d organise it for him or talk him up to her… and that’s when it hit me. I was pimping for my ex lover which surely had to mean it was over. I left early, but not before giving him a smile and a kiss and calling him a dog. Of course Xmas passed with texts and emails and he never mentioned and I never asked. So I was momentarily startled when BB in proffering a glass of New Year champagne also said ‘I hear you’ve been sleeping with Dear John’ . But I recovered instantly and answered ‘And by now so have you, right?. There followed a short discussion on his attributes (size, did he do this to you? And this? And not enough of this? Yeah, believe me you won’t get that at all, not his thing. Etc.’) before we moved on to getting to know each other and a couple of guys at the next table. She drew the ugly/older one for some reason. Next day Dear John emailed to say he didn’t mind being discussed as a sex object but rather hoped his personality had been mentioned. I had to reply that no, it hadn’t, apart from ‘charming and troubled’. Therein lies one of the olde worlde differences between our sad little genders. He/they don’t mind being cattle meat to us whereas we certainly do. Unless it’s a one off. I don’t actually buy into the con that is the ‘fuck buddy’. More like ‘fuck puppet’ as one of the two is usually in thrall to the other or likely to be more upset when he gets cast aside upon the arrival of a newer, shinier version on the scene.Am sure BB and Dear John will see each other a great deal, though he doesn’t have the cash to keep her in the style she would prefer. Men have to realise that they can get away with not a lot in that department whilst they pick younger women, but BB is 38+ and if it doesn’t help pay her bills, she’s not going there. Unless it’s love of course but she has dogs already, 3 in fact and going out with one is not high on her agenda. We will probably collaborate on a blog a’ deux soon. That will be fun. And would it be a first?

2 January - Terriers & Woods

A rather unique new year. I could get used to the countryside especially if it contains a superb house as featured in Country Life and its own mini lake and forest, caves and follies, with undertones of Lord of the Rings. And a host who provided everything for our comfort including nice friends to talk to.
NYE Day passed well but on our last walk at dusk, we had the not very bright idea to take with our group the two white Maltese terriers belonging to one of the guests. In fact one was hers and the other one the dog’s even tinier friend. Easy nowto see the error of our ways in taking for a walk without a leash two apartment mini dogs. I went ahead with the woman’s partner and left the group behind. When we returned, it was a classic ‘Is Cleo with you?’ ‘Er, no, we thought she was with you.’ Panic.
Two hours later and many utter darkness (but with torches) circuits of the woods and lake had not sighted Cleo. Who had either fallen down a rabbit hole or been spirited away by the foxes. I got over any fear of the dark and weird noises for sure, but felt sorry for our host couple who understandably had been looking forward to a relaxing evening once all the guests had departed.
We had to leave eventually and in the car thanked our lucky stars a) we had no dogs and b) it was a dog not a child that had gone missing. At 10pm a text came through that Cleo had been found cowering by some distant neighbours house. Poor little traumatised mite. She may start barking badly next time she sees the car heading out of Kensington. Am beginning to see the sense in all those stupid dog bags that celebs tote around.

Monday, January 09, 2006

29 December - Somerset &/or NYC?

How nice was it to be asked to go to a country home in deepest Somerset for NYE? I said yes immediately even if there is no guarantee of a four poster bed and chandeliers awaiting me. There are a fireplace and a lake and a mini forest though… However my instant, facetious reply was ‘Yes.. but what if I get a better offer?’ Meaning a more glamorous one? But I embrace the idea. Only, a few years ago Lisa would have been horrified at the thought of a NYE out of town and not in another town, like NYC- a memorable year arriving from Toronto on the train at Grand Central in the afternoon, quick change of clothes and out all night, those were the days -or skiing in Chamonix or bargaining for fake goods in Bangkok where our NYE means zilch or some other exotic place. Lisa needed more urban or off the beaten track pursuits. Not now. Especially because the invite came from a super lovely, intelligent, smart, attractive man she’s spent a fair amount of time with recently. It must mean something if I’ve resorted to talking about myself in the third person and am reluctant to name my NYE date. Removing it all to some sort of fictional plot. Well it is fictionally all good. Now, can it be real too?

27 December - fur coats & panettone

A good friend has married an Italian and now lives in a charming medieval town an hour north of Venice. They’ve invited me over for Xmas so I thought ‘Why not?’ . Which is why I came to be in a Catholic church for mass on Xmas Day. Would have seemed rude to say “I’ll stay in bed, catch up with you later when you’re ready to serve aperitifs”.
Well, I can’t follow what the priest is saying, given my limited knowledge of the language, but he’s talking about poverty and the need to look after our neighbours and so on. Funny how the church is full of women in fur coats – I have time to count dozens – and there are no other ethnicities but white in the congregation. I wonder if any of these people would lay their coat down for Jesus or other fellow humans in need. I guess not. These totally unnecessary in this weather garments (I don’t object to fur in principle, if you live in Siberia or Norway and you farm it humanely, then you’re entitled to minks like you are entitled to eating little lambs) are usually worn by selfish middle class people in my limited research. I further spot lots of short older people and very tall younger ones. I can’t explain this genetic alteration any different than the times in Jamaica when I could see all the young women were slim and all their mothers some humongous assed mamas. And i couldn't see the missing link anywhere. Anyway, the style of the older people’s fur coats is the same: long, wide at the bottom, sort of like a bell shape. Don’t fancy them much, they look like they took many pelts to arrive at these monstrous dimensions. However, the younger style coats are a different story. For a start some of the furs are dyed in lovely colours, the shapes are skinnier, shorter and very enticing. I mean who doesn’t actually like the feel of fur, despite the fact that minks or foxes get killed in horrid ways? Mhm, can’t afford one in any case so I space out a bit by doing a mini standing tree pose. Well, we’re standing (should have got here very early to secure a seat – bet the rest of the year the service is much more sparsely attended) and if I just lift a foot off the ground, tighten my stomach muscles. Voila’ , mini-tree pose. It is after all a spiritual place and yoga is a non denomination spiritual practice non?

Then we are released into a welcoming bar. Lots of people wishing each other merry Xmas. Nice bars, very mixed ages I notice and the usual mixture of people drinking alcohol and people drinking coffee. Nice to have the choice.
Lunch is a different set of foods. Am told in the south they celebrate with supper on the 24, fish based! And amazing cakes selection The north sticks to Xmas lunch at a regular hour ie. Around 1pm. Guess no Queen’s speech to time things around.
They eat a lot of meat and not expensive cuts either. Hearty foods, including lentils and spinach but you get to grate truffles on your lasagne. Yum. No vast choice of puddings, just a Panettone or Pandoro doused in liqueurs. Then they go to other people’s or relatives’ houses to wish them Happy Xmas and compare presents. They are very upfront the Italians. Show us your presents is done pretty openly in the same way they ask ‘And how much do you earn? Is that before or after tax?’ Very forward don’t you think? In all of this they drive to and fro. Nobody appears noticeably blotto. Think they don’t need to do that here. They are not going to be cooped up for days with relatives and so no need for obliteration and don’t witness any rows or simmering ones.

Much later at night we go to a bar/beer place, nothing fancy, to hear some er.. rock music. Yeeks, Italian rock no less. The whole place is singing along to a Vasco Rossi soundalike, who must be the Bruce Springsteen of these parts and a popular one at that. Me? I've only heard the nasal whine of one Eros Ramazzotti so far.
Again the bar contains people of all ages, including a large family group with young kids and teenagers amongst them. How civilized. You don’t have to break up the atmosphere of the day by dividing into the stay at homes and the going outs. There is strict no smoking now in bars here so you are not actually exposing children to it. Am liking this continental Xmas very much. Buon Natale.

24 December - Penguins & Pyjamas

If it’s Xmas you have to put in a visit to your parents. How come that at my family home I go to bed in a pyjama with penguins on it? It saves arguments, believe me. Is it not to piss my mother off who holds up my G-strings as if they were dog poo? And before you ask, no, I don’t encourage her looking into my suitcase but she just does. Think she believes if this is the underwear you wear, no wonder you're not married. Or is it some kind of subconscious trick to remain an adolescent? Life wasn’t too bad then apart from not being allowed out at night…Penguins are in this year though, see Xmas movies. Maybe I can customise it with a few sequins or feathers.

22 December - Dates & Dvd's

One I overlooked last week. A new male acquaintance rings… a possible date after one lunchtime introduction by a friend who knows us both and a follow up quick drink midweek. It’s Sunday and he texts at 5ish to ask ‘Would you like to come around and watch a DVD’. Am stunned by the lack of forethought this high achieving, successful mann(lawyer) has given to this. It’s a week before Xmas, and what you’re offering is what you’d offer an old mate, not a woman you may want to impress. Why not come up with something interesting to do or at least something that costs you some money/time and is not a last minute idea and does not require any shifting of effort on his part. Why, I could even stop for a takeaway on the way over to his house and bring that with my lovely little ass from the other side of London. Yes, you live in Portobello Rd and that’s quite an attractive area, am sure it has restaurants, bars and an excellent local cinema with big, brown armchairs.
I text back not having heard a peep since the midweek drink…am now otherwise engaged. But give me another opportunity and I may give him the wisdom of the Lisa Taylor’s guide to dating. Besides, I stop to consider what’s holding me back. Have I finally learnt some lessons on this front or it that he is attractive etc but he’s another late 30’s guy who’s ditched a great, but unsatisfactory career to start a business which am sure will go fantastically well (can you go wrong launching a new vodka? Don’t think so), but it’s still by no means a reality. But you know, Lisa’s current end of the year advice to self is not to date guys prior to their impossible to avoid mid-life crisis, which will get hold of them at around 39/40/41. You end up mid-wifing a lot of grief, late nights working/worrying and they have to plough all their savings in the new venture and take you to Pizza Express. That’s for me and my girlfriends when we’ve maxed the cards, not for new dates. So, no, keep your DVD’s on a Sunday afternoon. And if that makes me a cynic, so be it.

20 Dec - Oscar & Sebastian

A dazzling literary party before Xmas. A well known Soho artist/writer/roue’ waltzes in, in head to toe cream velvet regalia. He’s very tall and he wears platforms that make him look spaz and the ceilings are low and with his hat he appears to brush them as he works the room. He actually gives me a long up and down stare but swooshes off. Maybe he thought he recognised me? Maybe I didn’t pass some test? At any rate, I’m repelled by his attention seeking outfit. Then I consider that I’d have been repelled by Oscar Wilde then, had he walked in. His sin? Trying too hard, obviously. But not by David Bowie or Peter Gabriel with a flower on his head and surely they looked as much as a prat as Sebastian does now. But they mostly wear the ridiculous outfits on stage and not at their friends’ parties? But how often have I met David Bowie at a party? Never, so I don’t know. And it’s Xmas parties so Sebastian surely is entitled to show off. Or maybe all the world is a stage? After all, he debuts a column in the Observer in the new year. What exactly is totally pissing me off about a guy like him? I have also thought about what to wear here tonight –though not that long and hard - and my sequinned silver cache-epaules is also noticeable. But only if you stoop to my much lower height. And I never go full tilt. No, can’t work out why I dislike him so much. He’s loved by a few of my friends and they can’t be that wrong.

19 December - clubbers & fliers

Shopping at Shhhh. Had to renew some items and it’s always good to keep up to date with new introductions in the field of vibrators perhaps. I realise have been distinctly low-tech for a while. But these new ones are very expensive! Wish could E-bay the old one/s, or is there a market for collectors items? Or should I wait till one gets used on someone famous, (raking my brain but can't rememer any A-listers sadly) guess could photograph person + item to authenticate? And sell for higher price later? Anyway…Picked up a bunch of fliers and free magazines for clubs. Like a kid in a candy store I spread the armful of publications on bedroom floor and start studying them. I register the venues are the same as I know/have know, but the club nights and names of DJ’s are different. I so have not been clubbing in the last year or two and I so want to go!!! that I start planning which ones to visit. The best thing is to buy tickets as a way to committing at least, like paying for a personal trainer who comes around to kick you into doing what you want to, do but are too lazy to. I don’t ever do NYE in clubs, but now there are NY Day clubs. That’s appealing: go out at 11am and feel all full of energy whilst all around you they’re dropping like flies.

Am then distracted as I seem to have picked up a bunch of lesbian clubs and lifestyle magazines too and it’s another world, though again perhaps not that different. All these women mugging up for the camera at various clubs. It’s probably a bit sad that I have not given this area a try yet. Why say no to such a wide world of opportunities? But why get to try to understand women now? It would be boring to also have in bed the same conversations that you already have with platonic girlfriends. There’s only so much relationships stuff you can discuss when you get bored of UN and World Food programmes or the state of Ariel Sharon’s health.

Anyway, NY all-dayers, essentially I could go on my own, I certainly can’t think of friends right now who’d want to go except for friend’s ‘kids’. “Hi, would it be ok if Auntie Lisa comes with you? Please don’t say no!” No, can't bear to see the look of certain pity on their faces. Even if I could bribe them and buy all their drinks. I consider advertising for like minded pals. How to phrase this? Do not let me forget what it feels like to jerk my body about to music? Or prevent me from turning into the old person whose only chance to dance without being very out of place in a room full of younger people is to go to Goa where I once saw the oldest clubbers ever. They were tolerated nicely in the Emerald Forest clearing near Anjuna. However, they had to wear dayglo t-shirts and dance to trance which is not my thing and perhaps there are no elderly house music dancers out there. Trance is hell. Trance is where Goths moved to so they could carry on wearing nasal studs and very stupid clothes. I should have asked those older men and women what it felt like to blend in with younger travellers and if they did go to clubs in cities, and which ones and so on, but that was nearly 6 years ago and these kind of considerations were not part of my pre-40’s world then.

I put the fliers away for the moment. Maybe I can just get by with a furious bout of indoor club dancing if the neighbours don’t object to some old Armand Van Helden deafening them a bit.