The night John Grant gave me a hug

Sunday 23rd December 2014. I waited in the freezing cold for an hour and a half. But it was worth every second!

We'll start with the concert...

John Grant and the Royal Northern Sinfonia were stunning. I knew before I went that at some point during the night I would be crying. I hadn't counted on it being during nearly every song. The emotion John imbues in his performances is on another level. His barefaced and unashamed honesty hits you like a brick wall, but the poetry of his complex yet straightforward lyrics and music washes over you like a wave. The songs possess a somewhat grandiose quality, greatly enhanced by the orchestra. Evocative and original metaphors give the songs such life. Yet at the same time they are simple, and to the point.

Your silence is a weapon / it's like a nuclear bomb / it's like the Agent Orange they used to use in Vietnam

This pain / It is a glacier moving through you / It's carving out deep valleys / It's creating spectacular landscapes

My love is the rarest jewel and he crowns me with his love / My love, he is rich like caramel and he moves me from above

The entire performance was breathtaking, John's voice is in excellent shape. I know he's a good singer, but his warm tenor was on top form for some heart-stopping high moments and gorgeous melismas. I was on the edge of my seat the whole night. Luckily the lady sat next to me was kind enough to hand me tissues, seeing the emotional wreck next to her wiping his eyes in between songs must have been somewhat strange.

Highlights included some new songs and I was immediately hooked. "Geraldine" transfixed me. Nobody but John could make the word "shit" sound so beautiful. "No More Tangles" also seemed to utterly overcome and transfix everybody in the auditorium with its intensity. The orchestra's rendition of Rachmaninov's Prélude in C sharp minor was just stunning; a fantastic dramatic introduction to "Pale Green Ghosts", which featured otherworldly, almost terrifying, yet dazzling instrumental interplay between the loops and the synths and the orchestra

He played all the songs I was hoping for, it couldn't have been any more perfect. The rawness of "Drug", the pleading of "Vietnam", the rage of "Queen of Denmark", the spectacular climax of "Glacier" (I was made up to see Chris Pemberton play that on piano). He saved my favourite of all until last, I was becoming nervous and almost upset that I might not get to hear it. Then he sat at the piano and began to play "Caramel". I totally lost it, I was sobbing. The song is so beautiful, such a joy and privilege to listen to, but it causes me pain because of what it reminds me of. Although after all is said and done I was overjoyed he played it; it was marvellous, moving and over much too quickly. I sat for a little while as everybody filtered out of the hall to (somewhat unsuccessfully) try and compose myself.

And then meeting John...

It's funny, because I've been saying since I bought the tickets "Wouldn't it be great to meet John? I bet he'd give good hugs!" And then all of a sudden, some time after 11 (my legs could hardly move properly I'd been stood so long) there he was! Only three of us had waited for him, the other two people got some things signed and then he looked at me: I must have still looked a wreck from the concert, he looked right into my eyes, his expression said "are you okay??" I had so much I wanted to say but all I could manage was to thank him for "everything", for "tonight", for his "honesty" and for playing Caramel and how much it meant to me. He thanked me, put his hand out, told me to give him a hug and pulled me into a hug. I'm still on a high now, and I cannot wait for the next record and tour.

There are no men out there who we can relate to like John. I and many others most often have to turn to women to relate to and draw inspiration from. There are so many shallow "role-models" out there. I cannot think of another intelligent, talented, honest and inspirational male public figure among us like John. I can say he is the only artist who I really feel I can relate to and who inspires me to be better, to live and to create. I'm so grateful for his honesty, and for him sharing so much of himself with us. I hope he knows how important what he's doing is

Body Image Issues (Guess what I don't "need to eat something" & I don't care about the red patches of skin)

Haven't blogged for nearly two years, but here we are again!

Body image is something I've been thinking about for a while. And I started thinking about my own body image, mainly in relation to the visible signs of eczema, the angry red patches of skin on my body, but also my weight, which I've discussed before.

Body image seems to have become a very common obsession with men these days. More common than it ever seemed to be before. I think before it was seen to only be an issue women dealt with. But now men who never bothered before are now doing things like "going to the gym" and discussing "getting ripped" with colleagues at work. However, it still seems that discussion of body image issues primarily revolves around women. It seems men are too ashamed to admit that they too have issues with their bodies, because it's a "feminine" issue. Men pls.

Men's inability to admit that they have issues aside (that's for another post), let's talk about me. I, like most, was very conscious of my body growing up as a teenager and never liked it much. I was way too white, too thin, too bony, my neck was too long, my fingers too spidery, my shoulders never seemed to get any broader like they told us they would in school classes about puberty, and I didn't seem to be growing hair in all the places I was supposed to. Nobody ever told us that some boys' shoulders don't really grow broad, and not everyone grows a whole bunch of hair all over their body. I know now of course, everyone is different and there is huge variation in people's bodies, but at the time I felt inadequate. And I'm sure that's something we're all familiar with.

It took me some time to come to terms with my body. At 17 I was probably at my lowest point (I disliked pretty much everything about myself at that point, but that's another story.) At 18 I began the process of coming to like my body shape, but I still had deep-set issues, which I allowed to be reinforced by a steady stream of comments from acquaintances, friends and strangers regarding the "fact" that I was "too skinny", "needed to eat something" or "anorexic". At this point in my life I still allowed negative things people said to me affect what I thought of myself. And especially where friends were concerned, any negative comments about my weight hurt more and intensified my struggle to come to terms with the fact that my body is perfectly likeable.

Aged 20 I moved to Spain and became more independent than ever before. Having independence helped me a great deal with coming to terms with liking myself. I had to rely on myself more than I ever had before as the support network I'd had all my life was on an island hundreds of miles away. Relying on myself made me realise I could do all kinds of things I never thought I could do, and that I was a person who was worth something, who was worth liking. After being in a situation with a person who by all accounts should have complimented me on my body, but did quite the opposite, I didn't feel good about myself and I ended up spending a lot of time alone.

We had a large mirror in the bathroom of the apartment I was living in, so I could see myself as I showered and as I got out the shower. I was confronted by my own body. I stopped and looked at myself and it began. It began to sink in that my body wasn't so bad. I turned to the side, acknowledged the depth of my body. I turned back, and looked at the deep groove down the middle of my back, looked at how my shoulder blades protruded, how my back curved inwards and then out again towards the bottom. I faced myself. Looked at my flat stomach, my visible rib cage, the way my elbow joints look huge on my spindly little arms. As time went by I began to come to terms with the body I saw in the mirror. I got more and more used to the idea that my body was fine the way it was. Its shape was unique and it was mine and it made me me.

Liking the colour of my skin took a while longer. I have a very light complexion, I have the red hair gene from the Irish side of my family tree. My heritage is also English, and possibly Scottish... so all in all, very white. I practically glow in the sunshine, as the light reflects off of me. I always hated seeing photos of myself in the sun on holiday. I couldn't stand the sight of my bright white skin. I always envied the olive-skinned people I would see on the Mediterranean beaches and as I've gotten older I admire dark-skinned men more and more. Their skin: a beautiful, rich colour, smooth and stunning in the sunlight. My skin: better off covered up and hidden away. As I've gotten more used to liking the shape of my body though, that brought with it the ability to like my skin. My body shape makes me me and my skin makes me me, my skin isn't dark brown, it is bright white, it's mine and I own it. It's my own unique skin.

Further challenges to liking my skin are brought by living with chronic eczema. After a period of relative remission last summer the eczema has required constant looking after, with regular corticosteroid use for nearly a year. This is the longest I've ever had to consistently use topical steroids without a break. What I'm saying is, things aren't great. I'm left with patches of red skin all over my body. For a while I was afraid of them being seen, because of what other people might think. But then I realised life is too short to care about what other people might think of my red patches of skin, and that anybody who makes any negative comment about it isn't worth having around anyway. I may not be physically comfortable in my skin, but I can be emotionally comfortable. I can take ownership of what I have. I can look at myself in the mirror, red patches and all and say "That's me, I'm unique and I'm gorgeous."

And this is what I have learned. I am gorgeous. We are gorgeous in our uniqueness. I learned it through really LOOKING at my own body, and choosing not to see flaws, but uniqueness. I choose to not pay mind to the rude comments of others because I DECIDED that I am worth more than that. I don't need to eat more. I'm not too skinny. I'm not anorexic. I'm Joshua. I accept and love myself, so anybody who can't accept me doesn't really matter.

And that's the difference between me at 23 and me at 18.