éist

A dream. Intense and fun. I was at a theatrical production...a new musical that no one had yet seen. The theatre was somewhat like Portland Center Stage at The Armory - but as dreams will be dreams...not exactly.

The show was audience participatory. Typically, I hate that. I mean...I REALLY hate that. But in this dream, the audience and performers became one unit...a blend of energies contributing to a ritual of levity. And I surrendered.

I was seated in the second row...and this worried me, because I always choose an aisle seat. I can't stand feeling trapped. And I wondered how the box office had made such a mistake in putting me in such an uncomfortable spot. But I surrendered.

And then suddenly, it was my turn to participate in the show. An actor came up to me with a large microphone and cued me and a few others to start singing the four notes in a descending minor scale...a classic bass jazz line. We were to sing it as two half notes, then a dotted quarter, with the last note as an eighth note - with two quarter rests completing the second measure...a classic jazz rhythm.

The words to our song were letters. We were to sing: E....I....S...T. Over and over.

I sang loud and everyone around me got into it. The man to my left put his arm around me in camaraderie, and I added an ascending harmony. This made the actor holding the mic giggle. He liked our improvised duet.

The performers were all in bright costumes from various time periods, stretching centuries. And it became obvious that anything could happen at any time and that the show could end immediately or go on infinitely and none of that mattered, for all we wanted to do was keep singing: E....I....S...T.

And then the alarm went off. 5:30am. Time to rise.

As I went about my morning ritual today, I have yet to erase the musical pattern from my head. E....I....S...T has been on a loop. I decided to contemplate the letters. Why those? I mean, it made sense from a singing perspective: two vowels as the long notes and a sharp T as the stinging eighth note. Often a pragmatist, I figured my subconscious simply applied a logical singing pattern. But it bugged me, and I started looking up the letters.

Nope, nope, scroll, scroll, google, google...

And then I came upon something most curious. A Gaelic word: éist. It means: to listen. On its own it can also be used as a command. In spelling it over and over, we were basically singing in Gaelic: Listen, Listen, Listen...over and over.

I also considered an anagram - and I immediately went to the word: ties. There has been much family turmoil over the past year, and I wondered if it might be in reference to the need to "rebuild" or perhaps "cut".

And now, I think maybe my jazzy bass line chant could mean both. In essence: Listen and consider your ties.

And now I have to decide what to do with that.

OR...it could just be...you know...a dream.

Oh, Luna...

I know this may create many an eye roll. But something about the NASA bombing of the moon on Friday makes me sad... And I realized it's because I feel like we are injuring an actual being.

I know that the moon is the big, dead rock. And perhaps studying a giant cloud of dust for ice particles is somehow relevant to our scientific progress. But on some primal level, I sense that we're slapping our heavenly beauty in the face...stabbing her...scarring her further. And as silly as it is...as irrational and dare I say even "sappy" as it is - it is genuinely bothering me. It fills me with a dense melancholy, but not a personal one. It's the type of grayness that infects my state when a global tragedy occurs...when the connective tissue of humanity is violated.

On Friday, I will light a candle for Luna, and I will apologize to her...

Mindstorm

There is a storm in my head this fall - more than usual. I have not blogged in weeks, because I cannot seem to find my focus (that, and I have been recovering from piggy flu) - there is so much on my mind.

This morning, I awoke once again to my body tensed up with virtually all my muscles contracted and my jaw clenched. Every move I made for the first two hours of being awake was filled with pain, and the headache will likely linger for the remainder of the day.

Why? I cannot seem to apply the filters I once could. When I was younger, I was able to use a sort of tunnel vision to operate through my days...I had clear goals and I raced straight ahead -rarely wavering - to reach them. Of course, in this process, I was often failing as a friend, lover, family member - and I was certainly not bettering myself intellectually or spiritually. But I tell ya - life felt better than it does now. As I get older and my awareness expands with regard to the world around me - and the world within me - I wonder: will I go bat-shit mad one day from this?

In just the past half hour I have found myself preoccupied with the following:

my family isn't talking and that breaks my heart, Obama needs to pull us out of Afghanistan but he won't, I want to write musicals again but how will I ever find the time, I have insurance now but how will I find a doctor I can trust and who will accept my holistic beliefs on health, should we force people out of the homosexual closet, why am I addicted to carbs, why am I tired all the time, is my partner going to burn out from working so hard, why did my crippling stage fright take hold just as my singing voice is reaching its peak, I really want to adapt this novel into a play but will the author give me the time of day, taxes are too high for self employed people and I see no way out of this hole, gay couples should all stand up and not pay any taxes until they have equal marriage rights, I love the movie There Will Be Blood, why do I love wearing cologne, my hair gets grayer all the time, Ozzy Osbourne had an HIV+ result blamed not on HIV but on his drug use which defies all current testing paradigms and validates dissident theories, I want a kitten so badly but we aren't allowed to have them and even if we were we'd not have the money to properly care for it, sometimes I really do want to be a dad, this bathroom will never get clean until the landlord replaces the fixtures, why did no one tell me we were out of buttery spread, my car is falling apart and without it I can't work, why has my best friend stopped reaching out to me, Portland is #9 on the smartest cities list and Austin is #12, my birth father never contacts me unless I contact him first, high school memories never haunted me until now, is there a ghost in this house, I'd give anything to hug my grandma again and hear her laugh at The Golden Girls, hands and feet are so unique and I get fixated on their stories...

And now I write this...if only to fulfill the obligation of attempting to keep this blog on life support, and it is making my jaw tense again and I want to go outside and run until I fall somewhere in a pile of autumn leaves and can sleep, sleep, sleep...real sleep...and stop my mind...stop it...stop...

Dumb Sheep

The leaders of the Republican party need to completely denounce the ignorant morons who perpetuate lies - but they aren't doing that. Why? Because the lies work. We live in a highly uneducated, media illiterate country. And so the smart and powerful can prey easily on the dumb and weak. For some reason, Republicans have claimed this corner of the market. And oddly, much of it is "Christian" - and I'm sure Jesus would have just HATED to give up material goods in order to heal the sick. Please. The level of absurdity is unbelievable.

Check out this terrific article from The Independent.

Singing Pig's Blood

In 1991, a fellow student at the Meadows School of the Arts told me he had mailed away for a bootleg copy of the most notorious musical in Broadway history: Carrie.

As many already know, the film Carrie had a huge impact on my artistic sensibilities. Brian de Palma is very much a "hit or miss" director. He takes huge risks and is never one to shy away from the edge. "Over the top" does not frighten him, and there is no better example of this than Carrie. Watching Piper Laurie and Sissy Spacek do battle in that film is wickedly delightful. It manages to be terrifying, hilarious, and moving all at the same time. And the highly choreographed prom - from it's Cinderella-inspired beginning to it's pig-blood soaked ending - is a masterpiece "film within a film".

My entrance into theatre was through musicals. And I remembered in 1988 seeing Stephen King's novel in stores with a new cover - an unusual, minimalist rendering of what appeared to be a girl - and under it: "Now a major Broadway musical." I asked around the next year about why there was no cast recording. To combine one of my favorite films with my new-found love of musical theater was a dream come true! But I was ignorant to just how "major" the musical was: the biggest flop in history. Five shows. Closed.

But what I came to learn is that the critics, though they panned it to shreds - and rightfully so, acknowledged that a couple of duets from the show were some of the best in the history of all musicals. Ken Mandelbaum, in his book Not Since Carrie, writes about this. He asserts that one of the big tragedies is that Betty Buckley and Linzi Hateley were so good as Margaret White and Carrie, this should have been a star-making show. Instead, the immense talent on display and the raw power of their duets was buried in a heap of incoherence and lethal missteps; RSC Director Terry Hands should never have worked again.

My college friend gave me a copy of the bootleg recording - a scratchy cassette that had been created by someone sneaking into the closing show with a tape recorder in his pocket. Uh...not high quality. BUT...it was good enough to capture the power Buckley and Hateley and from my first listen, the song "And Eve Was Weak" has remained one of my favorite duets of all time.

I came upon this YouTube video - a clip that starts half way through the number...a bootleg video from 1988 at the closing performance at the Virginia Theatre. Again - scratchy...but the power is there. And it makes me wonder...if in the right hands and a competent creative team...could this have been "ground breaking" instead of "bank breaking"?

Songs to Light Me Up

In the spirit of endless Facebook lists, I offer some songs that have always stuck with me.

Why not?

Funky Sexy
-Son of a Preacher Man, Dusty Springfield
I always liked this infectious tune, but when I fell desperately in love with a bisexual preacher's son in 1996, the song was burned into my brain forever. I soon had a note to self, however: Don't fall in love with bisexual preacher's kids. :)

-Closer, Nine Inch Nails
So yeah, this is not exactly a subtle number from Trent Reznor, but I dare anyone who is in a randy mood to hear this and not get caught up in its hypnotic, debauchery-inducing spell. This became the theme of what came to be known as the Dionysus parties in my college years. No explanation needed.

-Criminal, Fiona Apple
The opening lyric sets the tone. "I've been a bad, bad, girl. I've been careless with a delicate man." Brilliant. Fiona may be a bit nuts - but this debut album was truly amazing...her talent and soul cannot be denied.

Darling Nikki, Prince
I was pretty young when the Purple Rain album came out, but my parents loved it and so it played on an endless loop in our house. And as a pubescent boy, this particular track was not lost on me - even if it didn't reflect my eventual persuasion. And Prince?...genius. Truly.

Funkier Than a Mosquito's Tweeter, Ike and Tina Turner
I am not sure, but I think this was the flip side of the 45 we had of Proud Mary. I know that it got played a lot before I was five. And I know that I used to shake my butt to it in my diaper. Later, I came to find it completely humorous for its sexy-silly euphemisms. Nikka Costa did a GREAT cover of the song on her album: Can'tneverdidnothin'

Smiles and Movin' Feet
-Chains of Love, Erasure
Bubble gum dance music at its best - and with a message. In an era plagued by overt homophobia along with AIDS deaths and thousands of deaths now known to be attributed to AZT poisoning, this gay anthem was a perfect antidote to a difficult reality. Together we'll break these chains indeed!

-Love Shack, B52s
Sadly, this song has almost worn out its welcome. Overplayed at weddings and the like. But I heard it again the other day and was able to travel back to high school when it came out... everyone running to the dance floor to celebrate youth and friendship. Some say the Cosmic Thing album was their "sell out" - I think it's great they crossed over and kept their unique brand of harmonies and humor.

-You Spin Me Round, Dead or Alive
This may be one of the best dance songs ever recorded. But to enjoy it, one must abandon all sense of good taste and dive into high club kid drama. It's in that sugar coated drug induced neon state that the operatic vocals and psycho-synth arpeggios can be fully appreciated. And what other song has a veritable Tarzan call as its signature?

-Express Yourself, Madonna
I must clarify that though I can still groove to the more electric version of this song as heard on the Immaculate Collection, it is the more acoustic, big band version on Like a Prayer that really stands out. Until this point, I had no interest in the material girl - but this call for independent thinking rang true to a gay kid just discovering theatre in 1989. And those backing vocals! Love it. And let's remember that now famous director David Fincher shot the video along with Vogue.

9 to 5, Dolly Parton
-How can anyone hear the opening vamp of this song and not smile? It's one of the catchiest tunes...EVER. And makes me want to dance like a silly cartoon character (I don't understand this myself, so don't try.) But I also associate it with the film, which is one of the few movies I can see from any point and it never fails to put me in a good mood. And Dolly...so plastic and genuine at the same time.

Tears and Melancholy
-Hurt, Johnny Cash
In his final moments, Cash recorded this song by Trent Reznor and delivered a masterpiece. Whenever I hear, "What have I become, my sweetest friend?" I choke up. There is something so quietly desperate in both the lyric and melody. There are times when it's almost too much to listen to...

-Here Comes the Rain Again, Eurythmics
The combination of soaring strings and fast-moving synth beats offered a unique fusion for radio in 1983. Pop songs do not sound like this anymore. And there is no voice like Annie Lennox at the climax - a siren's cry for answers. In 2005, I got to see her perform it as a quiet ballad on solo piano. It still packed a punch. Not a dry eye. That is the sign of a lasting song.

-Kissing You, Des'Ree
Chosen as the love theme to Baz Luhrman's R&J, rarely has a song felt more appropriate for star-crossed or unrequited love. It is, I think, the saddest love song ever recorded. Des'Ree's smoky voice leaves not a single syllable untouched with longing. And I admit, during more than one break up, this has been my tool for cathartic weeping...both as a listener and singer. Though on the R&J soundtrack, I highly recommend the album Supernatural where it also appears.

-Ordinary World, Duran Duran
This song manages to say it's time to move on without discarding the pain altogether. In this way, I find it to be one of the most mature songs from Duran Duran. The soaring vocals accompanied by a terrific guitar line both massage the ear and hit the gut. There's a good reason this single marked a comeback for the 1980s pop band.

-Angels, Robbie Williams
I cannot help myself. This song is so very cheesy. I know that. But the melody manipulates me into falling for it every time. So what that the simple lyrics feel written by a moody high school girl...when Robbie belts out the chorus and the full orchestra takes over, it's worthy of a thousand lit lighters in a stadium. And dude, it makes for awesome karaoke! :)

Wish/ Expect

A dear friend and colleague of mine got married recently, and I had the pleasure of attending his wedding. Such a handsome groom and stunning bride; I wish them much happiness. But something happened to me in the middle of the ceremony...something that has taken over a week to process. I got red-faced and angry. As the Anglican Priest talked about Genesis, first man, first woman, and the sanctity of marriage, I sat there with my male partner and had to simply eat the fact that we were outsiders at this party. We are not allowed to marry. And for many, we are an abomination.

This is not new. And I am not naive. But you see, this was the first wedding I have attended since Prop 8 and gay marriage heated up the news and pushed the issue further into the public consciousness. And it made my experience quite different. At previous weddings, not only did I accept the "way things are" - it never really occurred to me that they could be different. But now that's not the case. And I realized, sitting there, that I was not okay. In fact, I felt a bit betrayed. And I have to wonder if I will attend another wedding so long as my civil rights are denied me.

Brad Pitt famously said this past spring that he and Angelina Jolie might get married once it is legal for everyone to do so. It was a bold statement. And it is precisely what the gay marriage movement needs: straights to stand in solidarity with us. And really, if a heterosexual couple truly supports full marriage rights, then to maintain absolute integrity, that couple has no business getting married. They can have a spiritual commitment ceremony the way so many a gay couple has done...but to be legally married? No.

Back to my friend. This is someone I care about very much. And in no way do I want to strip him of his happiness or the legal benefits of marriage. But I have to admit - had he and his now wife made a declaration and postponed their wedding until my partner and I also had the right...that would have been cause for great celebration. Do I have less respect for them because they got married? No. But would I have had more respect had they waited? I gulp as I type this...but yes. Absolutely.

In trying to articulate my feelings on this, another friend - this one gay - said to me: "There's a big difference between what we wish for and what we expect. We don't expect our straight loved ones to sacrifice their happiness for our cause...but boy, we wish they would." Exactly.

And I dread the next wedding invitation that comes in the mail. Because I'm really not sure I can do it again.