OK, so I presume everyone here has seen the 12 gays of Christmas (if you haven't, GO SEE IT NOW!!!), but this one is another crazy-ass-hilarious must-watch clip !
OK, so that's what I want for Christmas now. Right under the tree in a bright red box with a pink bow. :)
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Ring-mistress
So Britney's back in the ring, and HOW! Circus has pretty much shattered all the records, following closely on the heels of her other hit single Womanizer. This is the part where I blush, shuffle my feet and admit that I'm one of the old-time Spears fans. I liked the masochistic school-girl with pigtails who liked being hit... one more time, and I loved her in Crazy, and I even liked her in that ridiculous poor-little-rich-girl Lucky song... And then I watched horrified as she spiraled down a horrible rollercoaster, amply helped in her smouldering descent by the media.
Let's not blame the paparazzi alone here. As someone pointed out on her Wikipedia page, Britney's a great example of how people become simultaneously valued/devalued as commodities rather than human beings. Suddenly, every little thing Britney did was news, every tantrum, every angry outburst was screaming at you from the front page - and yes, you were lapping it up! As Britney croons, all eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus...!
Was she partly responsible for all that attention? Perhaps - but definitely not to the gruesome extent that it turned out to be. The Spears Phenomenon pretty much became a case study in media ethics on reporting privacy in my classroom - in fact, I encouraged my students to think about the media attention and whether it was merited even in the case of the most publicity-greedy celebs.
But this post is not about debating the pros and cons of media commoditification (yea, you probably won't find that word in Webster!). It's about how she actually came back from over the hill where she'd practically been hurled over and buried six feet under. It took more than one lunge from her, and several attempts to come back, fight for custody of her kids (an ongoing battle), fight to get back into shape, fight to get the right songs, and struggle to grow as a person. And I like to think she has. Circus is definitely a newer Britney: I see shades of her journey as a person through the awesome challenges thrown at her. And I like how she uses humor to channel her anger into some great ditties in the new album. Case in point: Womanizer.
K-Fed, duck for cover - she's opened the closet now, bitch! :-)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Just another angsty post!
Sometime back, I had a theory that I was (despite my sparkling wit and brilliance) after all just another white mouse running on an ever-whirling wheel. Nothing really has changed so far in my life to dispute that theory. I've lived through writing the proposal of my thesis, the horrendous terrorist attacks in Bombay (thankfully, everyone I know is safe!), the gorgeous weather in San Diego, the hideous weather in my Midwestern hamlet, and a crazed mailing of PhD applications.
*squeak*
The 'busy' motive doesn't completely cut it, of course. Somewhere along the way, the Closet lost its penchant for honesty: honest fear, honest excitement, honest trepidation, honest lust. Instead, I fell into the trap so many bloggers who get too conscious of their readership do, and tried to project the 'happy' face: devoid of fear, trepidation, excessive excitement, and (it must be said) lust. In an online conversation, Satori sighed and said, "No offense, but it's usually you under-30 somethings who go around starry-eyed with simplistic views of love and sex and matrimony." That's not to say that he's not a believer in all of the above himself - but perhaps he would define a more nuanced role for himself. And I've been doing the same for myself, I suppose. In the shadows. Away from the Closet, because somehow even that isn't very closed these days - and of course, that's all my doing, so no, I'm not really complaining or anything. I suppose I've been trying to deal with the fact that I'm all happy and domesticated, but still check-mark all of the above: fear, trepidation, excessive excitement and (again, it must be said) lust.
I'm a sucker for that Lust. *grin*
Lust for that cute gay academic with who I went dancing in San Diego one night after the conference, yakked 19 to the dozen about Obama, gay politics, doctoral programs and other scandalous tidbits that would make any self-respecting gay boy blush - and you could tell by the progressive ying around the two of us as the night went on and the conversation grew more... intense. A couple of drinks, some pretty sexy dancing, and a lovely lingering kiss before I said goodnight and disappeared a la Cinderella - only much later than midnight! *sigh*
Lust for that other cute young man I flirt with online, a senior at the university who grins o-so coquetishly at the camera with his shirt rolled up to his armpits to show off his fabulous abs! Surprise, surprise, he's actually intelligent, well-read, funny, and gets my craziness.
OK, and yes, I'll admit it: lust for that huge hunk of a Latino who doesn't get any jokes what-so-ever, probably doesn't even care (but then he doesn't have to, with a sculpted body like his!), and is simply in the mood for a fcuk. I'm not sure how long I can keep stringing him along with sleazy online sex-chats, instead of actually delivering the goods... but, I figure, as long as I can, that's good enough for me! *grin*
It feels terribly invigorating to admit to my lust here. I don't do guilt very well, I'm afraid. To tell the truth, I don't do guilt very often, either. :) But when I do, it's usually those quiet-and-alone moments lying in bed, followed by anxious soul-searching that lasts for a few minutes till a friend pours a bucket of cold reason on me. I'm not perfect. And I'm not asexual. (SO not asexual!) And just because I'm not a singleton anymore doesn't mean that I should stop feeling whatever I feel - fear, trepidation, lust, and all of the rest. I used to think that "growing up" meant you stop being naughty and become boring. I tried that for awhile. It made me cringe at the thought of coming here and admitting who/what I was and did. Instead, I realized that growing up means to reconcile both your stable relationship status and your naughty streak. There's a reason my guy is with me - he admits he loves me being crazy. And not being honest means stifling the craziness.
So where does that leave me, and the Closet? To put it fancily: in an enlightened state of being. *grin* I"m going to try to "grow up" from an under-30 something dimbulb to an under-30 something adult. Did I like my kiss in San Diego? Loved it. Do I enjoy flirting with the cute frat boy? Most definitely. Will I fantasize about hunky Latino Lover in bed? Umm...! Am I still in love with Irish Coffee? More than ever. :)
Does that make everything very complicated? As the song goes, I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose-garden! :)
*squeak*
The 'busy' motive doesn't completely cut it, of course. Somewhere along the way, the Closet lost its penchant for honesty: honest fear, honest excitement, honest trepidation, honest lust. Instead, I fell into the trap so many bloggers who get too conscious of their readership do, and tried to project the 'happy' face: devoid of fear, trepidation, excessive excitement, and (it must be said) lust. In an online conversation, Satori sighed and said, "No offense, but it's usually you under-30 somethings who go around starry-eyed with simplistic views of love and sex and matrimony." That's not to say that he's not a believer in all of the above himself - but perhaps he would define a more nuanced role for himself. And I've been doing the same for myself, I suppose. In the shadows. Away from the Closet, because somehow even that isn't very closed these days - and of course, that's all my doing, so no, I'm not really complaining or anything. I suppose I've been trying to deal with the fact that I'm all happy and domesticated, but still check-mark all of the above: fear, trepidation, excessive excitement and (again, it must be said) lust.
I'm a sucker for that Lust. *grin*
Lust for that cute gay academic with who I went dancing in San Diego one night after the conference, yakked 19 to the dozen about Obama, gay politics, doctoral programs and other scandalous tidbits that would make any self-respecting gay boy blush - and you could tell by the progressive ying around the two of us as the night went on and the conversation grew more... intense. A couple of drinks, some pretty sexy dancing, and a lovely lingering kiss before I said goodnight and disappeared a la Cinderella - only much later than midnight! *sigh*
Lust for that other cute young man I flirt with online, a senior at the university who grins o-so coquetishly at the camera with his shirt rolled up to his armpits to show off his fabulous abs! Surprise, surprise, he's actually intelligent, well-read, funny, and gets my craziness.
OK, and yes, I'll admit it: lust for that huge hunk of a Latino who doesn't get any jokes what-so-ever, probably doesn't even care (but then he doesn't have to, with a sculpted body like his!), and is simply in the mood for a fcuk. I'm not sure how long I can keep stringing him along with sleazy online sex-chats, instead of actually delivering the goods... but, I figure, as long as I can, that's good enough for me! *grin*
It feels terribly invigorating to admit to my lust here. I don't do guilt very well, I'm afraid. To tell the truth, I don't do guilt very often, either. :) But when I do, it's usually those quiet-and-alone moments lying in bed, followed by anxious soul-searching that lasts for a few minutes till a friend pours a bucket of cold reason on me. I'm not perfect. And I'm not asexual. (SO not asexual!) And just because I'm not a singleton anymore doesn't mean that I should stop feeling whatever I feel - fear, trepidation, lust, and all of the rest. I used to think that "growing up" meant you stop being naughty and become boring. I tried that for awhile. It made me cringe at the thought of coming here and admitting who/what I was and did. Instead, I realized that growing up means to reconcile both your stable relationship status and your naughty streak. There's a reason my guy is with me - he admits he loves me being crazy. And not being honest means stifling the craziness.
So where does that leave me, and the Closet? To put it fancily: in an enlightened state of being. *grin* I"m going to try to "grow up" from an under-30 something dimbulb to an under-30 something adult. Did I like my kiss in San Diego? Loved it. Do I enjoy flirting with the cute frat boy? Most definitely. Will I fantasize about hunky Latino Lover in bed? Umm...! Am I still in love with Irish Coffee? More than ever. :)
Does that make everything very complicated? As the song goes, I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose-garden! :)
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
"Divine Decadence..."
So I rented possibly the camp-est and most fabulous movie in ages (forgive me, Carrie Bradshaw), popped open two bottles of sauvignon blanc, and settled in to watch Liza Minelli in Cabaret (1972)...
What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.
For the unlucky few who haven't seen it, I'd advise you to rush out and rent! Welcome to 1931 Berlin, when a beautiful world of glitter and glamor is about to erupt into Nazi ugliness. But till that time, there's the ever-eccentric cabaret diva Sally Bowles at the Kit Kat Club, her British bisexual lover Brian, playboy Baron Max, and star-crossed lovers Fritz and Natalia...
I started out thinking how fabulously similar to Holly Golightly Sally Bowle's character was, albeit smuttier, given that Holly played the Manhattan society girl and Sally the Berlin bar dancer... But there's a special flavour to Sally's risque "divine decadence...!", her penchant for fur and money, and her irrepressible ways with men, that Breakfast at Tiffany's simply did not have. Seriously... this gives Gloria Gaynor a run for her money - the song every gay man needs to listen to after a break-up, mein herr! :)
O, and as expected, my ever-so-straight boyfriend Irish Coffee detested the movie. :) (Though he did appreciate my "divine decadence" in the sheets after the movie was done, owing to both Liza's fag-ulousness and copious amounts of sauvignon blanc. *grin*)
What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.
For the unlucky few who haven't seen it, I'd advise you to rush out and rent! Welcome to 1931 Berlin, when a beautiful world of glitter and glamor is about to erupt into Nazi ugliness. But till that time, there's the ever-eccentric cabaret diva Sally Bowles at the Kit Kat Club, her British bisexual lover Brian, playboy Baron Max, and star-crossed lovers Fritz and Natalia...
I started out thinking how fabulously similar to Holly Golightly Sally Bowle's character was, albeit smuttier, given that Holly played the Manhattan society girl and Sally the Berlin bar dancer... But there's a special flavour to Sally's risque "divine decadence...!", her penchant for fur and money, and her irrepressible ways with men, that Breakfast at Tiffany's simply did not have. Seriously... this gives Gloria Gaynor a run for her money - the song every gay man needs to listen to after a break-up, mein herr! :)
O, and as expected, my ever-so-straight boyfriend Irish Coffee detested the movie. :) (Though he did appreciate my "divine decadence" in the sheets after the movie was done, owing to both Liza's fag-ulousness and copious amounts of sauvignon blanc. *grin*)
Monday, June 02, 2008
Sex in Another City
Alright, so it wasn't exactly New York, New York, but it was the SATC movie nevertheless, right here in my Midwest town. (At least there's the pic of the NYC bus stop poster I clicked in the big city, so that's a littel something...!) Had an early shower, dragged Irish Coffee, and there the two of us were at the Director's Hall section of the theater. Was a tad disappointed to notice the poor turn-out in the hall (six fags and twelve-or-so-gals), but I can't say I hadn't expected that really, where I am. And besides, once the absolutely kooky-crazy-sexy brand new theme song by Fergie started, I frankly couldn't care less - I wanted MORE!!!
Too bad, the official video of the new theme song isn't out yet, but let me list out Top 10 Takeaways from the movie... and I'll try to not disclose any spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen the movie yet:
- LOOOVE Carrie's Vivienne Westwood wedding dress - it is to DIE for!
- Would have loved to see a bit more (if you get my drift) of Smith Jared.
- Steve's fabulous ass is still in fagulous shape - but again, a la Smith, some more exposure would have been much appreciated.
- Carrie's corsage dress is simply stunning!
- Mr. Big aka John James Preston is looking a bit... ummm.... tubby. But is still the Mr. Big! The one we love to hate!
- Monogamy doesn't suit Samantha. *sigh* And no, this doesn't mean I'm making a statement about myself here, even though I have said on previous occasions that she's my favorite lady (but of course!).
- I'm glad they showed as little of Harry's naked body as they did.
- Sam's sexy next-door-neighbor in LA is to DIE for - comes only marginally behind the Vivienne Westwood dress in terms of dying criteria. And yes, it's a full frontal frame.
- Charlotte is adorably prudish. About everything. Thank gawd they kept her the same. :)
- Carrie actually looks fabulous as a brunette.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
That kind of a mood...
In that kind of a mood...
Baby look at me...
And tell me what you see.
You ain't seen the best of me yet
Give me time, I'll make you forget the rest.
I got a story, and you can set it free
I can catch the moon in my hand
Don't you know who I am?
Remember my name... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever,
I'm gonna learn how to fly... High!
I feel it coming together,
People will see me and die... Fame!
I'm gonna make it to heaven,
Light up the sky like a flame... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever...
Baby, remember my name...
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember,
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember.
Baby hold me tight,
'Cause you can make it right.
You can shoot me straight to the top,
Give me love and take all I got to give.
Baby I'm in love...
Too much is not enough.
I surround your heart to embrace,
Learn I got what it takes...
Remember my name... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever,
I'm gonna learn how to fly... High!
I feel it coming together,
People will see me and die... Fame!
I'm gonna make it to heaven,
Light up the sky like a flame... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever...
Baby, remember my name...
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember,
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember.
- Fame, Irene Cara (1980)
I was going to make this song my goodbye post, last year when I was thinking of shutting the blog down. Yes, I'm an egoistic prick. Always said I was. :)
Baby look at me...
And tell me what you see.
You ain't seen the best of me yet
Give me time, I'll make you forget the rest.
I got a story, and you can set it free
I can catch the moon in my hand
Don't you know who I am?
Remember my name... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever,
I'm gonna learn how to fly... High!
I feel it coming together,
People will see me and die... Fame!
I'm gonna make it to heaven,
Light up the sky like a flame... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever...
Baby, remember my name...
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember,
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember.
Baby hold me tight,
'Cause you can make it right.
You can shoot me straight to the top,
Give me love and take all I got to give.
Baby I'm in love...
Too much is not enough.
I surround your heart to embrace,
Learn I got what it takes...
Remember my name... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever,
I'm gonna learn how to fly... High!
I feel it coming together,
People will see me and die... Fame!
I'm gonna make it to heaven,
Light up the sky like a flame... Fame!
I'm gonna live forever...
Baby, remember my name...
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember,
Remember, Remember, Remember, Remember.
- Fame, Irene Cara (1980)
I was going to make this song my goodbye post, last year when I was thinking of shutting the blog down. Yes, I'm an egoistic prick. Always said I was. :)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Affirmation
Affirmation
I believe the sun should never set upon an argument...
I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands...
I believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for you...
I believe your parents did the best job they knew how to do...
I believe that beauty magazines promote low self esteem...
I believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone...
I believe in Karma; what you give is what you get returned...
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned...
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side...
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye...
I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality...
I believe that trust is more important than monogamy...
I believe you're most attractive features are your heart and soul...
I believe that family is worth more than money or gold...
I believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfair,
I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires...
I believe forgiveness is the key to your own happiness...
I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed...
I believe that God does not endorse TV evangelists...
I believe in love surviving death into eternity...
- Savage Garden (1999)
I believe the sun should never set upon an argument...
I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands...
I believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for you...
I believe your parents did the best job they knew how to do...
I believe that beauty magazines promote low self esteem...
I believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone...
I believe in Karma; what you give is what you get returned...
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned...
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side...
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye...
I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality...
I believe that trust is more important than monogamy...
I believe you're most attractive features are your heart and soul...
I believe that family is worth more than money or gold...
I believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfair,
I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires...
I believe forgiveness is the key to your own happiness...
I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed...
I believe that God does not endorse TV evangelists...
I believe in love surviving death into eternity...
- Savage Garden (1999)
Thursday, January 17, 2008
I feel pretty
I feel pretty...
Oh so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and gay,
And I pity... Any girl who isn't me today.
Not very sure I liked the movie - o, much too over the top in the melodrama department, though I did like the Puerto Rican dance number - but that little ditty was amazing! If you haven't already, then take a look...
Oh so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and gay,
And I pity... Any girl who isn't me today.
I feel charming, Oh so charming,
It's alarming how charming I feel,
And so pretty... That I hardly can believe I'm real.
See the pretty girl in that mirror there:
Who can that attractive girl be?
Such a pretty face,
Such a pretty dress,
Such a pretty smile,
Such a pretty me!
Not very sure I liked the movie - o, much too over the top in the melodrama department, though I did like the Puerto Rican dance number - but that little ditty was amazing! If you haven't already, then take a look...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Past Addictions
Past Addictions
I used to love this song a long time back when I was in college, and then I heard it again this morning after ages - and then, I realized, this was exactly the way I felt during November-December, when things were breaking down with the ex...
(Try to ignore the 'she' part! *grin*)
She says she hates to sleep alone, but she'll do it tonight.
She wants to grab her telephone, but she knows it ain't right.
So if he won't call, she'll survive, and if he don't care, she'll get by.
Climb into bed, bury her head, and cry.
From the beginning he was all anyone could have been.
They were delirious with love; they were certain to win.
Now he's breaking plans more and more, and he's leaving notes on her door.
Took a trip out of town, couldn't turn this one down; He said, "I guess I
should have told you before."
She says she feels like she's addicted to a real bad thing,
Always sitting, waiting, wondering if the phone will ring,
She knows she bounces like a yo-yo when he pulls her string,
It hurts to feel like such a fool.
She wants to tell him not to call or come around again,
He doesn't need her now at all the way that she needs him.
She's on the edge about to fall from leaning out and in,
And she don't know which way to move.
She wants to be fair; she couldn't say he was ever unkind,
But if she could bear to walk away, she thinks he wouldn't mind
'Cause he just keeps himself so apart and there's no one else in her heart,
So she's taking a dive from an emotional high and coming down hard.
She's determined to try, but she'll still give in when he gives her a call.
She'll ask herself why, but in the end it won't matter at all.
Sure, she could sit at home, stay inside and sleep alone with her pride
And as she walks out that door, she feels as weak as before with nothing to hide.
She says she feels like she's addicted to a real bad thing,
Always sitting, waiting, wondering if the phone will ring,
She knows she bounces like a yo-yo when he pulls her string,
It hurts to feel like such a fool.
Man, it feels GREAT to have those days behind me now! :)
I used to love this song a long time back when I was in college, and then I heard it again this morning after ages - and then, I realized, this was exactly the way I felt during November-December, when things were breaking down with the ex...
(Try to ignore the 'she' part! *grin*)
She says she hates to sleep alone, but she'll do it tonight.
She wants to grab her telephone, but she knows it ain't right.
So if he won't call, she'll survive, and if he don't care, she'll get by.
Climb into bed, bury her head, and cry.
From the beginning he was all anyone could have been.
They were delirious with love; they were certain to win.
Now he's breaking plans more and more, and he's leaving notes on her door.
Took a trip out of town, couldn't turn this one down; He said, "I guess I
should have told you before."
She says she feels like she's addicted to a real bad thing,
Always sitting, waiting, wondering if the phone will ring,
She knows she bounces like a yo-yo when he pulls her string,
It hurts to feel like such a fool.
She wants to tell him not to call or come around again,
He doesn't need her now at all the way that she needs him.
She's on the edge about to fall from leaning out and in,
And she don't know which way to move.
She wants to be fair; she couldn't say he was ever unkind,
But if she could bear to walk away, she thinks he wouldn't mind
'Cause he just keeps himself so apart and there's no one else in her heart,
So she's taking a dive from an emotional high and coming down hard.
She's determined to try, but she'll still give in when he gives her a call.
She'll ask herself why, but in the end it won't matter at all.
Sure, she could sit at home, stay inside and sleep alone with her pride
And as she walks out that door, she feels as weak as before with nothing to hide.
She says she feels like she's addicted to a real bad thing,
Always sitting, waiting, wondering if the phone will ring,
She knows she bounces like a yo-yo when he pulls her string,
It hurts to feel like such a fool.
Man, it feels GREAT to have those days behind me now! :)
Friday, July 20, 2007
Enough!
Enough!
Clearin' this house out of joy
that I borrowed
from back in the day...
Threw away my old clothes,
Got myself a better wardrobe...
I got something to say!
I'm through with the past,
Ain't no point in looking back...
The future will be...
And did I forget to mention that
I found a new direction,
And it leads back to me!
I'm spinning around,
Move out of my way...
I know you're feelin' me 'cuz you like it like this!
I'm breakin' it down...
I'm not the same...
I know you're feelin' me 'cuz you like it like this!
Clearin' this house out of joy
that I borrowed
from back in the day...
Threw away my old clothes,
Got myself a better wardrobe...
I got something to say!
I'm through with the past,
Ain't no point in looking back...
The future will be...
And did I forget to mention that
I found a new direction,
And it leads back to me!
I'm spinning around,
Move out of my way...
I know you're feelin' me 'cuz you like it like this!
I'm breakin' it down...
I'm not the same...
I know you're feelin' me 'cuz you like it like this!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Post-Sunday Song: We Have All The Time In The World...
Post-Sunday Song: We Have All The Time In The World...
How strange that I should be listening to this song, a day after I think about falling in love with someone special. :)
Vintage Louis Armstrong, performed as a James Bond theme, surprise surprise.
We have all the time in the world,
Time enough for life
To unfold
All the precious things
Love has in store.
We have all the love in the world...
If that's all we have,
You will find
We need nothing more.
Every step of the way
Will find us
With the cares of the world
Far behind us...
We have all the time in the world
Just for love,
Nothing more,
Nothing less,
Only love...
Only love...
- Louis Armstrong (1969)
How strange that I should be listening to this song, a day after I think about falling in love with someone special. :)
Vintage Louis Armstrong, performed as a James Bond theme, surprise surprise.
We have all the time in the world,
Time enough for life
To unfold
All the precious things
Love has in store.
We have all the love in the world...
If that's all we have,
You will find
We need nothing more.
Every step of the way
Will find us
With the cares of the world
Far behind us...
We have all the time in the world
Just for love,
Nothing more,
Nothing less,
Only love...
Only love...
- Louis Armstrong (1969)
Friday, May 18, 2007
Pre-Sunday Song: Surprisingly Good For You
Pre-Sunday Song: Surprisingly Good For You
Was watching Evita the other night, and the music refuses to leave me since then. Madonna is... ethereal.
And, somehow, this song speaks to me. So much of what I'd like to say to the right person, when he comes along. :)
It seems crazy, but you must believe
There's nothing calculated, nothing planned...
Please forgive me if I seem naive,
I would never want to force your hand...
But please understand, I'd be good for you...
I don't always rush in like this,
Twenty seconds after saying hello...
Telling strangers I'm too good to miss...
If I'm wrong I hope you'll tell me so.
But you really should know, I'd be good for you,
I'd be surprisingly good for you
I won't go on if I'm boring you,
But do you understand my point of view?
Do you like what you hear, what you see,
And would you be, good for me too?
I'm not talking of a hurried night,
A frantic tumble then a shy goodbye,
Creeping home before it gets too light...
That's not the reason that I caught your eye,
Which has to imply, I'd be good for you...
I'd be surprisingly good for you...
Was watching Evita the other night, and the music refuses to leave me since then. Madonna is... ethereal.
And, somehow, this song speaks to me. So much of what I'd like to say to the right person, when he comes along. :)
It seems crazy, but you must believe
There's nothing calculated, nothing planned...
Please forgive me if I seem naive,
I would never want to force your hand...
But please understand, I'd be good for you...
I don't always rush in like this,
Twenty seconds after saying hello...
Telling strangers I'm too good to miss...
If I'm wrong I hope you'll tell me so.
But you really should know, I'd be good for you,
I'd be surprisingly good for you
I won't go on if I'm boring you,
But do you understand my point of view?
Do you like what you hear, what you see,
And would you be, good for me too?
I'm not talking of a hurried night,
A frantic tumble then a shy goodbye,
Creeping home before it gets too light...
That's not the reason that I caught your eye,
Which has to imply, I'd be good for you...
I'd be surprisingly good for you...
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Sunday Song: Stupid Girls
Sunday Song: Stupid Girls
This is going to be a regular feature in the blog from now on. Since I have a tag called 'song' here, I may as well use it properly! :) But weekly or fortnightly, is going to have to wait for a decision.
In the meantime, there's this fun number by Pink of the (big surprise) pink hair: Completely love the way she lambastes the Britney brigade, even though (sigh) I used to looove Oops I did it again... :)
Stupid girls, stupid girls, stupid girls
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Go to Fred Segal, you'll find them there
Laughing loud so all the little people stare
Looking for a daddy to pay for the champagne
(Drop a name)
What happened to the dreams of a girl president
She's dancing in the video next to 50 Cent
They travel in packs of two or three
With their itsy bitsy doggies and their teeny-weeny tees
Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?
Oh where, oh where could they be?
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
(Break it down now)
Disease's growing, it's epidemic
I'm scared that there ain't a cure
The world believes it and I'm going crazy
I cannot take any more
I'm so glad that I'll never fit in
That will never be me
Outcasts and girls with ambition
That's what I wanna see
Disasters all around
World despaired
Their only concern
Will they fuck up my hair
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
[Interlude]
Oh my god you guys, I totally had more than 300 calories
That was so not sexy, no
Good one, can I borrow that?
[Vomits]
I WILL BE SKINNY
(Do ya thing, do ya thing, do ya thing)
(I like this, like this, like this)
Pretty will you fuck me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!
Pretty would you fuck me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, stupid girl!
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
O gosh, am I a (gulp) stupid girl? :)
This is going to be a regular feature in the blog from now on. Since I have a tag called 'song' here, I may as well use it properly! :) But weekly or fortnightly, is going to have to wait for a decision.
In the meantime, there's this fun number by Pink of the (big surprise) pink hair: Completely love the way she lambastes the Britney brigade, even though (sigh) I used to looove Oops I did it again... :)
Stupid girls, stupid girls, stupid girls
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Go to Fred Segal, you'll find them there
Laughing loud so all the little people stare
Looking for a daddy to pay for the champagne
(Drop a name)
What happened to the dreams of a girl president
She's dancing in the video next to 50 Cent
They travel in packs of two or three
With their itsy bitsy doggies and their teeny-weeny tees
Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?
Oh where, oh where could they be?
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
(Break it down now)
Disease's growing, it's epidemic
I'm scared that there ain't a cure
The world believes it and I'm going crazy
I cannot take any more
I'm so glad that I'll never fit in
That will never be me
Outcasts and girls with ambition
That's what I wanna see
Disasters all around
World despaired
Their only concern
Will they fuck up my hair
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
[Interlude]
Oh my god you guys, I totally had more than 300 calories
That was so not sexy, no
Good one, can I borrow that?
[Vomits]
I WILL BE SKINNY
(Do ya thing, do ya thing, do ya thing)
(I like this, like this, like this)
Pretty will you fuck me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!
Pretty would you fuck me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, stupid girl!
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
O gosh, am I a (gulp) stupid girl? :)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
The Fox and the Material Girl
The Fox and the Material Girl
Hopped over to the Sports Bar this evening on a date with a cute guy whom I shall call NextDoorBoy, and they were playing amazing songs from the Retro Age. :) And that's when I thought about Samantha Fox.
NextDoorBoy: "I am so completely blown away by the fact that you remember Samantha Fox! I mean, my brother had a huge poster of her in his bedroom!"
Closetalk, grinning happily (this is beer no.2 and I get drunk fast, rememember?): "What's so strange about that now? I loooooooooooooved her Touch me song!"
NextDoorBoy patting CT's legs (was he hitting on me?): "Just that I haven't even met too many straight men who remember her - even though they may find her name familiar!"
Whereupon, I got up and proceeded to do a very ditsy Samantha Fox version in his ear, while he couldn't stop chuckling -
Somewhere in the city, and the night is young,
I was hungry for love, I was hungry for you...
... take my body like you wanted to....
This is tonight - touch me - touch me
I wanna feel your body - your body on me toniiiiiiggght!
But while NextDoorBoy thinks it's all pretty amazing that I remember Sam Fox, she was pretty much a life-sized idol for me, during my pre-teen years - kinda like Madonna. I remember that video of Sam's, where she wore this tight black swimming costume kinda thing, with black stockings and a jewelled belt and a black jacket, and did all these outrageous pelvic thrusts! Not even the fact that she did that gross Chicken Fry song with Bappi Lahiri for Bollywood could dim the awe in which I held her in. She was just - ethereally hot in those big, 36 D (ugh) boobs. :)
CT, in beer-induced academic frame of mind: "Sam was soooooooo much hotter than Madonna from the very beginning. I mean, don't get me wrong - I loooooove Madge. But whereas Sam pushed her sexy image from the very start with those nude photos and all, Madge came off as the rebellious gal in her early years!"
NextDoorBoy: "The Papa Don't Preach Gal, you mean."
CT nods, triumphant: "Exactly! And even later, when she got all glamorous and sexy, it was always like this good ole romantic sexy - not the trashy slutty thing that made Sam such a rage among all the straight guys!"
And, actually, that's why I think why soooo many women and gay men love Madge even now - perhaps more than straight men do. Madge appealed to the romantic or the breakaway, and only rarely did she try to be outright sexy. When she did, in Erotica and all, she always came a controversial cropper, not a runaway success. It was always Material Girl and Like a Virgin and Frozen and Hung Up where she hit paydirt. And she's not really a slut in those - just the hot gal in yards and yards of fabric loosely wound around her, which threatens to unravel. :) Madonna is the gal in the Venetian gondola dancing with the guy in the lion-mask - something which all fags and hags sigh over. Madonna is the gorgeous gal in red, choosing among chocolates and diamonds, a la Marylin - and no, straight men aren't likely to find the prospect of a lighter wallet very sexual.
Hopped over to the Sports Bar this evening on a date with a cute guy whom I shall call NextDoorBoy, and they were playing amazing songs from the Retro Age. :) And that's when I thought about Samantha Fox.
NextDoorBoy: "I am so completely blown away by the fact that you remember Samantha Fox! I mean, my brother had a huge poster of her in his bedroom!"
Closetalk, grinning happily (this is beer no.2 and I get drunk fast, rememember?): "What's so strange about that now? I loooooooooooooved her Touch me song!"
NextDoorBoy patting CT's legs (was he hitting on me?): "Just that I haven't even met too many straight men who remember her - even though they may find her name familiar!"
Whereupon, I got up and proceeded to do a very ditsy Samantha Fox version in his ear, while he couldn't stop chuckling -
Somewhere in the city, and the night is young,
I was hungry for love, I was hungry for you...
... take my body like you wanted to....
This is tonight - touch me - touch me
I wanna feel your body - your body on me toniiiiiiggght!
But while NextDoorBoy thinks it's all pretty amazing that I remember Sam Fox, she was pretty much a life-sized idol for me, during my pre-teen years - kinda like Madonna. I remember that video of Sam's, where she wore this tight black swimming costume kinda thing, with black stockings and a jewelled belt and a black jacket, and did all these outrageous pelvic thrusts! Not even the fact that she did that gross Chicken Fry song with Bappi Lahiri for Bollywood could dim the awe in which I held her in. She was just - ethereally hot in those big, 36 D (ugh) boobs. :)
CT, in beer-induced academic frame of mind: "Sam was soooooooo much hotter than Madonna from the very beginning. I mean, don't get me wrong - I loooooove Madge. But whereas Sam pushed her sexy image from the very start with those nude photos and all, Madge came off as the rebellious gal in her early years!"
NextDoorBoy: "The Papa Don't Preach Gal, you mean."
CT nods, triumphant: "Exactly! And even later, when she got all glamorous and sexy, it was always like this good ole romantic sexy - not the trashy slutty thing that made Sam such a rage among all the straight guys!"
And, actually, that's why I think why soooo many women and gay men love Madge even now - perhaps more than straight men do. Madge appealed to the romantic or the breakaway, and only rarely did she try to be outright sexy. When she did, in Erotica and all, she always came a controversial cropper, not a runaway success. It was always Material Girl and Like a Virgin and Frozen and Hung Up where she hit paydirt. And she's not really a slut in those - just the hot gal in yards and yards of fabric loosely wound around her, which threatens to unravel. :) Madonna is the gal in the Venetian gondola dancing with the guy in the lion-mask - something which all fags and hags sigh over. Madonna is the gorgeous gal in red, choosing among chocolates and diamonds, a la Marylin - and no, straight men aren't likely to find the prospect of a lighter wallet very sexual.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
A little bit of Tiffany's in the closet
A little bit of Tiffany's in the closet
So the other night was spent alone, owing to a freakish asexual mood, and the romantic 'mean reds' took hold of me. After a conversation with Sin, in I popped the VCD of Breakfast At Tiffany's, and immersed myself in Audrey's amazing Holly rendition.
And even though the movie-ending deviates from the book's, to embrace a totally soppy a la Bollywood happy ending, I'm so glad it does. I couldn't bear to see that yummy George Peppard losing out on the love of his life, and I couldn't bear to not see Audrey finally save herself. All said and done, the movie is terribly sweet, in a way that the book is perhaps sore, so I took the liberty of jotting down my favourite lines from the script.These are the funny lines, the gruesome lines, the quirky lines, the Holly lines. And some of them, are even the Closetalk lines.
:)
Sid Arbuck: Come on baby, you like me.
Holly: I worship you, Mr. Arbuck. Goodnight, Mr. Arbuck.
Holly: Listen. You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul: The 'mean reds'? You mean, like the blues?
Holly: The blues are because you're getting fat. Or it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Don't you ever get that feeling?
Paul: Sure.
Holly: When I get it, what does any good is to jump into a car and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness. The proud look. Nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then... I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name.
Holly: A girl can't go to Sing Sing with a green face.
Paul: Sing Sing?
Holly: I always thought it was a ridiculous name for a prison, Sing Sing, I mean. Sounds more like an opera house!
Holly: You could always tell what kind of a person a man thinks you are by the earrings he gives you... (tries them on and looks in the mirrr, and the blanches)... I must say, the mind reels!
Holly: I told him, "Look darling, you've got the wrong Holly Golightly." I do as well on trips to the powder room. Any gentleman will give a girl $ 50 for the powder room. And cab fare - that's another $ 50.
Holly: 300. She's very generous. Is that by the week, the hour, or what?
Paul: The Party's over. Out.
Holly: O red, darling Fred, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I was just letting you know I understand. I understand completely.
Holly: I suppose you think I'm very brazen. Or tres fou or something.
Paul: You're no fou-er than anybody else.
Holly: Yes, you do. Everybody does. And I don't mind. It's useful being Top Banana in the shock department.
Paul: Too dirty? Yea, I... suppose they're dirty, too. But only incidentally. Mainly, they're angry, sensitive... intensely felt, and that dirtiest of all dirty words - promising!
Holly: Do you mind if I just get in with you for a minute? It's all right, really, it is. We're friends, that's all.
O J Berman: Come in! It's a party - lot of characters come who aren't expected.
Holly: O J's a great agent. He knows a lot of phone numbers.
O J Berman: Answer the question - is she or isn't she?
Paul: What?
O J Berman: A phony.
Paul: I don't know. I don't think so.
O J Berman: You don't, huh? Well, you're wrong. She is. But on the other hand, you're right, because she's a real phony. She honestly believes all this phony junk.
O J Berman: Know how long it took me to smooth that accent? One year. Know how? We gave her French lessons. Figured, once she could imitate French, she could imitate English.
Paul: He's all right - if you like dark, handsome, rich-looking men with passionate natures and too many teeth.
Holly: Rusty Trawler! He happens to be the ninth richest man in America under 50.
Paul: Now, that, indeed, is a remarkable piece of information to have at your fingertips.
Holly: I keep track of these things.
Holly: It's a mistake you always made, trying to love a wild thing. You were always lugging home wild things - a hawk with a broken wing, a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg, remember? There's something - you mustn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to fly into a tree, then to higher trees, then to the sky.
Holly: You know the terrible thing, Fred, darling? I am still Lula Mae - 14 years old, stealing turkey eggs and running through a briar patch. except now I call it having the mean reds.
Holly: Do you think she's talented? Deeply and importantly talented?
Paul: No. Amusing and superficially talented, yes.
Holly: Anyway, every Tom, Dick and Sid sinks-thinks, if he takes a girl out to dinner, she'll just curl up in a litle furry ball at his feet, right? I have, by actual count, been taken to dinner by 26 different rats in the last 2 months. 27, if you count Benny Shacklett, who's in many ways, a Super Rat.
Holly: It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I'll give you two.
Holly: Just a minute. Do I have my nightgown on? No, I don't. Would you turn around for a second? Never mind. That's corny anyway. I'll turn around myself.
Holly: It turns out, he owes $ 700,000. Can you imagine anyone owing $ 700,000? Anyway, that's why he decided to marry the queen of the pig people.
Holly: Well, I've got a wonderful idea. We'll spend the day doing things we've never done before.
Holly: Personally, I think it would be tacky to wear diamonds before I'm 40.
Tiffany's Server: Do they still really have prizes in cracker jack boxes?
Paul: O, yes.
Tiffany's Server: That's nice to know. It gives one a feeling of solidarity, almost of continuity, with the past. That sort of thing.
Paul: Tooley, you're a very stylish girl. can't we end this stylishly?
Paul: Is that what you really think? That I'm no different from all your other rats and super rats? Wait a minute. If that's it... If that's what you really think... there's something I want to give you -
Holly: What's that?
Paul: $ 50 for the powder room.
Holly (out of jail at 10 am): Quel night!
Holly: Hand me my purse, will you, darling? A girl can't read that sort of thing without her lipstick.
Holly: I'm not hotfooting it after Jose, if that's what you think. O no, as far as I'm concerned, he;s the future president of nowhere. Only, why should I waste a good plane ticket?
Paul: You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken. You got no guts. You're afraid to say, "OK, life's a fact." People do fall in love. People do belong to each other. Because that's the only chance any body's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing. You're terrified somebody's going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded by Tulip, Texas, or Somaliland. It's wherever you go because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
Moon River, wider than a mile,
I'm crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
wherever you're going I'm going your way.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.
- music by Henry Mancini, lyrics by Johnny Mercer
So the other night was spent alone, owing to a freakish asexual mood, and the romantic 'mean reds' took hold of me. After a conversation with Sin, in I popped the VCD of Breakfast At Tiffany's, and immersed myself in Audrey's amazing Holly rendition.
And even though the movie-ending deviates from the book's, to embrace a totally soppy a la Bollywood happy ending, I'm so glad it does. I couldn't bear to see that yummy George Peppard losing out on the love of his life, and I couldn't bear to not see Audrey finally save herself. All said and done, the movie is terribly sweet, in a way that the book is perhaps sore, so I took the liberty of jotting down my favourite lines from the script.These are the funny lines, the gruesome lines, the quirky lines, the Holly lines. And some of them, are even the Closetalk lines.
:)
Sid Arbuck: Come on baby, you like me.
Holly: I worship you, Mr. Arbuck. Goodnight, Mr. Arbuck.
Holly: Listen. You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul: The 'mean reds'? You mean, like the blues?
Holly: The blues are because you're getting fat. Or it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Don't you ever get that feeling?
Paul: Sure.
Holly: When I get it, what does any good is to jump into a car and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness. The proud look. Nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then... I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name.
Holly: A girl can't go to Sing Sing with a green face.
Paul: Sing Sing?
Holly: I always thought it was a ridiculous name for a prison, Sing Sing, I mean. Sounds more like an opera house!
Holly: You could always tell what kind of a person a man thinks you are by the earrings he gives you... (tries them on and looks in the mirrr, and the blanches)... I must say, the mind reels!
Holly: I told him, "Look darling, you've got the wrong Holly Golightly." I do as well on trips to the powder room. Any gentleman will give a girl $ 50 for the powder room. And cab fare - that's another $ 50.
Holly: 300. She's very generous. Is that by the week, the hour, or what?
Paul: The Party's over. Out.
Holly: O red, darling Fred, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I was just letting you know I understand. I understand completely.
Holly: I suppose you think I'm very brazen. Or tres fou or something.
Paul: You're no fou-er than anybody else.
Holly: Yes, you do. Everybody does. And I don't mind. It's useful being Top Banana in the shock department.
Paul: Too dirty? Yea, I... suppose they're dirty, too. But only incidentally. Mainly, they're angry, sensitive... intensely felt, and that dirtiest of all dirty words - promising!
Holly: Do you mind if I just get in with you for a minute? It's all right, really, it is. We're friends, that's all.
O J Berman: Come in! It's a party - lot of characters come who aren't expected.
Holly: O J's a great agent. He knows a lot of phone numbers.
O J Berman: Answer the question - is she or isn't she?
Paul: What?
O J Berman: A phony.
Paul: I don't know. I don't think so.
O J Berman: You don't, huh? Well, you're wrong. She is. But on the other hand, you're right, because she's a real phony. She honestly believes all this phony junk.
O J Berman: Know how long it took me to smooth that accent? One year. Know how? We gave her French lessons. Figured, once she could imitate French, she could imitate English.
Paul: He's all right - if you like dark, handsome, rich-looking men with passionate natures and too many teeth.
Holly: Rusty Trawler! He happens to be the ninth richest man in America under 50.
Paul: Now, that, indeed, is a remarkable piece of information to have at your fingertips.
Holly: I keep track of these things.
Holly: It's a mistake you always made, trying to love a wild thing. You were always lugging home wild things - a hawk with a broken wing, a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg, remember? There's something - you mustn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to fly into a tree, then to higher trees, then to the sky.
Holly: You know the terrible thing, Fred, darling? I am still Lula Mae - 14 years old, stealing turkey eggs and running through a briar patch. except now I call it having the mean reds.
Holly: Do you think she's talented? Deeply and importantly talented?
Paul: No. Amusing and superficially talented, yes.
Holly: Anyway, every Tom, Dick and Sid sinks-thinks, if he takes a girl out to dinner, she'll just curl up in a litle furry ball at his feet, right? I have, by actual count, been taken to dinner by 26 different rats in the last 2 months. 27, if you count Benny Shacklett, who's in many ways, a Super Rat.
Holly: It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I'll give you two.
Holly: Just a minute. Do I have my nightgown on? No, I don't. Would you turn around for a second? Never mind. That's corny anyway. I'll turn around myself.
Holly: It turns out, he owes $ 700,000. Can you imagine anyone owing $ 700,000? Anyway, that's why he decided to marry the queen of the pig people.
Holly: Well, I've got a wonderful idea. We'll spend the day doing things we've never done before.
Holly: Personally, I think it would be tacky to wear diamonds before I'm 40.
Tiffany's Server: Do they still really have prizes in cracker jack boxes?
Paul: O, yes.
Tiffany's Server: That's nice to know. It gives one a feeling of solidarity, almost of continuity, with the past. That sort of thing.
Paul: Tooley, you're a very stylish girl. can't we end this stylishly?
Paul: Is that what you really think? That I'm no different from all your other rats and super rats? Wait a minute. If that's it... If that's what you really think... there's something I want to give you -
Holly: What's that?
Paul: $ 50 for the powder room.
Holly (out of jail at 10 am): Quel night!
Holly: Hand me my purse, will you, darling? A girl can't read that sort of thing without her lipstick.
Holly: I'm not hotfooting it after Jose, if that's what you think. O no, as far as I'm concerned, he;s the future president of nowhere. Only, why should I waste a good plane ticket?
Paul: You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken. You got no guts. You're afraid to say, "OK, life's a fact." People do fall in love. People do belong to each other. Because that's the only chance any body's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing. You're terrified somebody's going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded by Tulip, Texas, or Somaliland. It's wherever you go because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
Moon River, wider than a mile,
I'm crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
wherever you're going I'm going your way.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.
- music by Henry Mancini, lyrics by Johnny Mercer
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Seems like I'm in a Musical Mood lately...
Seems like I'm in a Musical Mood lately...
Have highlighted in bold my favourite lines...
You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are...
You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do...
But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does...
When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs...
And when the snow falls you're found in Saint Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don't...
But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
Your name, it is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, a-ha-ha-ha...
They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn...
Where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try...
So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do...
I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head...
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
- Where Do You Go To My Lovely, Peter Sarstedt (1969)
One of the songs I love the most - simply adore the tune, and after listening to it over and over again, the lyrics as well. Apparently, some say it's based on Sophia Loren, and that just adds to the overall colour of the song. Marie-Claire can by anyone, really. Maybe it's because I've just finished reading Breakfast At Tiffany's, and I'm still in the Holly Golightly mode, that the entire idea of this song is so... appealing. I would love to drink wine and not get my lips wet; to keep a racehorse just for laughs, and do millions of other mad, extravagant things that don't seem so mad or extravagant at all, really. :)
Have highlighted in bold my favourite lines...
You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are...
You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do...
But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does...
When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs...
And when the snow falls you're found in Saint Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don't...
But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
Your name, it is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, a-ha-ha-ha...
They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn...
Where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try...
So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do...
I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head...
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
- Where Do You Go To My Lovely, Peter Sarstedt (1969)
One of the songs I love the most - simply adore the tune, and after listening to it over and over again, the lyrics as well. Apparently, some say it's based on Sophia Loren, and that just adds to the overall colour of the song. Marie-Claire can by anyone, really. Maybe it's because I've just finished reading Breakfast At Tiffany's, and I'm still in the Holly Golightly mode, that the entire idea of this song is so... appealing. I would love to drink wine and not get my lips wet; to keep a racehorse just for laughs, and do millions of other mad, extravagant things that don't seem so mad or extravagant at all, really. :)
Monday, January 29, 2007
One Night In..
One Night In..
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster...
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free.
You'll find a God in every golden cloister...
A little flesh, a little history...
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble...
Not much between despair and ecstasy.
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble...
Can't be too careful with your company!
I can feel the devil walking next to me...
- Head Murray, 1984
Now just put Bombay in there, instead of Bangkok.
:)
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster...
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free.
You'll find a God in every golden cloister...
A little flesh, a little history...
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble...
Not much between despair and ecstasy.
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble...
Can't be too careful with your company!
I can feel the devil walking next to me...
- Head Murray, 1984
Now just put Bombay in there, instead of Bangkok.
:)
Friday, December 29, 2006
Anniversary
Anniversary
Twenty four hours earlier, I sat here at my computer and watched time tick away slowly, till the day arrived that would have marked one whole year with Boy. And now, I sat here again, waiting and watching till the clock announced the day was finally over. A part of me was dreading if he called or messaged, wondering what my reaction would have been - I know, though: anger and irritation, coupled with a lot of relief. But he didn't call. Or message. Maybe he was waiting for me. Maybe I'm just pathetic.
It's been two weeks now, or something like that. And today, of all days, they played Strangers In The Night so many times in the world - once at the five star hotel lobby where I waited for my client to arrive, and then at dinner, when the family and I went out. And despite myself, despite my resolve to not let myself delve on him or the past or my version of the possible future, I allowed myself to get melancholic. For the record, both the dates I mentioned in the previous post went rather well - I thought I struck a great connection with the Party Guy, and even Cute Doc was terribly sweet on our date last night. And while I'm looking forward to meeting both of them again... especially Party Guy... I also know that none of them are... Boy.
*sigh*
None of them are that cute Gujarati guy with the long nose and the stupid American accent who came over to my house for afternoon sex, and then stopped in the middle, asking if he could come back later in the evening to take me out for a 'real' date because he wanted to 'know' me... I remember, I made him wait that first time - he was waiting patiently, while I was hurrying up in the shower, throwing on a shirt, a pair of jeans, and then when we finally stepped out, he got into the elevator with me, and whispered, eyes gleaming, 'You look stunning...!'
That first date, we went to Bombay Blues and he wanted me to order. He looked cockily at me, and said, 'You can tell a lot about a person from the way and things that he orders for dinner,' and I grinned back at him. That was when I learnt he doesn't eat sea food or prawns or mutton, and only has boneless chicken. Your typical Non vegetarian Gujju.
On December 30, we went to this Punjabi restaurant in Dadar, which had the full ethnic look, complete with shamiana and sitar-strumming musicians, and the NRI in him loved that stuff. And then he surprised me by saying he knew a Bengali song, cuz he'd performed to it once, and then he proceeded to sing it. I still have that recording of him singing 'Aay re aay' on my phone.
On December 31, we went to Bandra, shopping for the New Year's Eve GB party. We went to this shop on Hill Road, where he tried on these outrageously shiny shirts, and I dissolved into laughter and took snaps of him on my cell phone. He protested his innocence, saying that he needed shiny shirts for when he performed with his dance troupe on stage, but I refused to buy it. Then, later on, when we came back to my place to dress, I tried one of them one, and he had his moment of 'I told you so!'.
I remember the party - Karma, the lower level. I was waiting for Chimneypot to arrive, and was heading out to check for her repeatedly. Then coming back and dancing with my date for the night, who was looking so amazing. There was a stupid Hindi song playing, and he liked my dance moves so much, he hugged me and called it my 'dhishum dhishum' dance steps... and then, that one time when I went out again to check for Chimneypot, I received an sms on my phone from inside: I think I'm fallin in luv... I went right in and kissed him long and hard, without a word. I was stupid. My flatmate said I looked terribly happy that night, and we made a wonderful pair. We did. I was stupid.
When I kept him waiting for four hours at Bandra some weeks later, I knew he'd be livid, so I bought a bunch of daisies for him and thrust them at him as soon as I saw him, before he could say a word. His face changed... completely...!
Why am I writing all of this down? Because I know, if I don't, I'm going to reach for my phone, punch in the US numbers that I know by heart now, and type something stupid I will hate myself for, tomorrow. The blog helps. The blog helps in giving me the space to write what I really wish I could say, but know would be disastrous to. When I have to sit through two sessions of Strangers In The Night, there is not much even Gloria Gaynor can do to get rid of the butterflies in my stomach. And I thought she was foolproof.
Strangers in the night, exchanging glances,
Wondering in the night
What were the chances we'd be sharing love
Before the night was through.
Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in your smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart
Told me I must have you.
The verdict: Frank Sinatra wins, hands down.
The verdict: I hate you, Boy. I hate you because despite everything I've tried to do, I realize in my saddest moments that I feel terribly alone without you. I love you still, damnit.
And I'm glad you never came by to read this blog.
Twenty four hours earlier, I sat here at my computer and watched time tick away slowly, till the day arrived that would have marked one whole year with Boy. And now, I sat here again, waiting and watching till the clock announced the day was finally over. A part of me was dreading if he called or messaged, wondering what my reaction would have been - I know, though: anger and irritation, coupled with a lot of relief. But he didn't call. Or message. Maybe he was waiting for me. Maybe I'm just pathetic.
It's been two weeks now, or something like that. And today, of all days, they played Strangers In The Night so many times in the world - once at the five star hotel lobby where I waited for my client to arrive, and then at dinner, when the family and I went out. And despite myself, despite my resolve to not let myself delve on him or the past or my version of the possible future, I allowed myself to get melancholic. For the record, both the dates I mentioned in the previous post went rather well - I thought I struck a great connection with the Party Guy, and even Cute Doc was terribly sweet on our date last night. And while I'm looking forward to meeting both of them again... especially Party Guy... I also know that none of them are... Boy.
*sigh*
None of them are that cute Gujarati guy with the long nose and the stupid American accent who came over to my house for afternoon sex, and then stopped in the middle, asking if he could come back later in the evening to take me out for a 'real' date because he wanted to 'know' me... I remember, I made him wait that first time - he was waiting patiently, while I was hurrying up in the shower, throwing on a shirt, a pair of jeans, and then when we finally stepped out, he got into the elevator with me, and whispered, eyes gleaming, 'You look stunning...!'
That first date, we went to Bombay Blues and he wanted me to order. He looked cockily at me, and said, 'You can tell a lot about a person from the way and things that he orders for dinner,' and I grinned back at him. That was when I learnt he doesn't eat sea food or prawns or mutton, and only has boneless chicken. Your typical Non vegetarian Gujju.
On December 30, we went to this Punjabi restaurant in Dadar, which had the full ethnic look, complete with shamiana and sitar-strumming musicians, and the NRI in him loved that stuff. And then he surprised me by saying he knew a Bengali song, cuz he'd performed to it once, and then he proceeded to sing it. I still have that recording of him singing 'Aay re aay' on my phone.
On December 31, we went to Bandra, shopping for the New Year's Eve GB party. We went to this shop on Hill Road, where he tried on these outrageously shiny shirts, and I dissolved into laughter and took snaps of him on my cell phone. He protested his innocence, saying that he needed shiny shirts for when he performed with his dance troupe on stage, but I refused to buy it. Then, later on, when we came back to my place to dress, I tried one of them one, and he had his moment of 'I told you so!'.
I remember the party - Karma, the lower level. I was waiting for Chimneypot to arrive, and was heading out to check for her repeatedly. Then coming back and dancing with my date for the night, who was looking so amazing. There was a stupid Hindi song playing, and he liked my dance moves so much, he hugged me and called it my 'dhishum dhishum' dance steps... and then, that one time when I went out again to check for Chimneypot, I received an sms on my phone from inside: I think I'm fallin in luv... I went right in and kissed him long and hard, without a word. I was stupid. My flatmate said I looked terribly happy that night, and we made a wonderful pair. We did. I was stupid.
When I kept him waiting for four hours at Bandra some weeks later, I knew he'd be livid, so I bought a bunch of daisies for him and thrust them at him as soon as I saw him, before he could say a word. His face changed... completely...!
Why am I writing all of this down? Because I know, if I don't, I'm going to reach for my phone, punch in the US numbers that I know by heart now, and type something stupid I will hate myself for, tomorrow. The blog helps. The blog helps in giving me the space to write what I really wish I could say, but know would be disastrous to. When I have to sit through two sessions of Strangers In The Night, there is not much even Gloria Gaynor can do to get rid of the butterflies in my stomach. And I thought she was foolproof.
Strangers in the night, exchanging glances,
Wondering in the night
What were the chances we'd be sharing love
Before the night was through.
Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in your smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart
Told me I must have you.
The verdict: Frank Sinatra wins, hands down.
The verdict: I hate you, Boy. I hate you because despite everything I've tried to do, I realize in my saddest moments that I feel terribly alone without you. I love you still, damnit.
And I'm glad you never came by to read this blog.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Cooling My Heels
Cooling My Heels
The days since my break-up, I've gone down the predictable path of being a Break-up Boy Slut. In the past four days, I've had sex five times. Mindless, brainless fun with loads of chemistry and smiles and deliberate attempts to get the guy out of my place asap after orgasm. I've gone on a couple of dates with some cute guys with some cute smiles and I've been talking to those migratory foreign birds who arrive in Mumbai every December.
And I've been chatting with this other migratory bird who seems so perfect. All smiles and all chemistry and all sex appeal. I'm a bit overwhelmed, or at least I was, before I gave myself my early morning pep talk. It goes like this, a cute li'l ditty sung in a Busta Rhymes beat, complete with finger noddin' Black Gu-url Style:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
I'm not going to get stuck in another relationship. Not till I'm more clear about my life. The Study plans are still on, despite the break-up, and my career needs to get in shape. And no more migratory birds for me, no way. I can deal with the penguins here in Mumbai, but not those stupid squawking birds who promise heaven and sky and then fly, fly away.
***
I've wondered what went wrong with us, and frankly I still don't know. He says, he doesn't either. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe we just burnt up too bright, too fast, and it just wasn't to be. I felt that he never prioritised us enough in his life, even though it was replete with his familial and work problems... and now he says I'm right. Last night, I met him online and he told me he's received my Christmas-cum-Anniversary parcel (I'd mailed it before the break-up) and he cried on reading the cards, and told me how Karma loves the doggy treats I bought for him, and how he misses us... I tried to be all cold and said that it's a pity he didn't miss us enough when we were still together.
What I don't get is: why the f*&k is he saying all this now?! Sin says he's just a prick, and SnowWhite's Stepmother says he was never good for me. The good part, though, is that all that incessant listening to Gloria Gaynor has at least lifted my spirits: if you thought I'm moping around, thinking of my lost love, you'd be sorely mistaken. I'm loving working, joking and chatting with my friends, making Christmas and New Year plans, dating cute guys, and going out with the family (who's in town for the holidays).
Now I hold my head up high...
And you see me, somebody new...
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you...
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free
Now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me...!
But of course... much, much later. Back to the ditty:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
The days since my break-up, I've gone down the predictable path of being a Break-up Boy Slut. In the past four days, I've had sex five times. Mindless, brainless fun with loads of chemistry and smiles and deliberate attempts to get the guy out of my place asap after orgasm. I've gone on a couple of dates with some cute guys with some cute smiles and I've been talking to those migratory foreign birds who arrive in Mumbai every December.
And I've been chatting with this other migratory bird who seems so perfect. All smiles and all chemistry and all sex appeal. I'm a bit overwhelmed, or at least I was, before I gave myself my early morning pep talk. It goes like this, a cute li'l ditty sung in a Busta Rhymes beat, complete with finger noddin' Black Gu-url Style:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
I'm not going to get stuck in another relationship. Not till I'm more clear about my life. The Study plans are still on, despite the break-up, and my career needs to get in shape. And no more migratory birds for me, no way. I can deal with the penguins here in Mumbai, but not those stupid squawking birds who promise heaven and sky and then fly, fly away.
***
I've wondered what went wrong with us, and frankly I still don't know. He says, he doesn't either. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe we just burnt up too bright, too fast, and it just wasn't to be. I felt that he never prioritised us enough in his life, even though it was replete with his familial and work problems... and now he says I'm right. Last night, I met him online and he told me he's received my Christmas-cum-Anniversary parcel (I'd mailed it before the break-up) and he cried on reading the cards, and told me how Karma loves the doggy treats I bought for him, and how he misses us... I tried to be all cold and said that it's a pity he didn't miss us enough when we were still together.
What I don't get is: why the f*&k is he saying all this now?! Sin says he's just a prick, and SnowWhite's Stepmother says he was never good for me. The good part, though, is that all that incessant listening to Gloria Gaynor has at least lifted my spirits: if you thought I'm moping around, thinking of my lost love, you'd be sorely mistaken. I'm loving working, joking and chatting with my friends, making Christmas and New Year plans, dating cute guys, and going out with the family (who's in town for the holidays).
Now I hold my head up high...
And you see me, somebody new...
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you...
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free
Now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me...!
But of course... much, much later. Back to the ditty:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
Monday, August 28, 2006
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
Each time we have a quarrel
It almost breaks my heart.
Cuz I'm so afraid,
That we will have to part.
Each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
One day I feel so happy,
Next day I feel so sad.
I guess I'll learn to take,
The good with the bad.
Cuz each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
I cried a tear,
For nobody but you.
I'll be a lonely one if you,
Should say we're through.
Well if you want to make me cry,
That won't be so hard to do.
If you should say goodbye,
I'll still go on lovin' you.
Each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
I cried a tear,
For nobody but you.
I'll be a lonely one if you,
Should say we're through.
Well if you want to make me cry,
It won't be so hard to do.
If you should say goodbye,
I'll still go on lovin' you.
Each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
- Paul Anka
Each time we have a quarrel
It almost breaks my heart.
Cuz I'm so afraid,
That we will have to part.
Each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
One day I feel so happy,
Next day I feel so sad.
I guess I'll learn to take,
The good with the bad.
Cuz each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
I cried a tear,
For nobody but you.
I'll be a lonely one if you,
Should say we're through.
Well if you want to make me cry,
That won't be so hard to do.
If you should say goodbye,
I'll still go on lovin' you.
Each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
I cried a tear,
For nobody but you.
I'll be a lonely one if you,
Should say we're through.
Well if you want to make me cry,
It won't be so hard to do.
If you should say goodbye,
I'll still go on lovin' you.
Each night I ask the stars up above,
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
Why must I be a teenager in love?!
- Paul Anka
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