They told you your music
Could reach millions
The choice was up to you
And you told me
They always pay for lunch
They believe in what I do
And I wonder
Will you miss your old friends
Once you've proven what you're worth
And I wonder
When you're a big star
Will you miss the earth?
And I knew you'd always want more
I knew you'd never be done
Because everyone
Is a fucking Napoleon
Everyone
Is a fucking Napoleon
And the next time
That I saw you
You were larger than life
Yeah you came
And you conquered
You were doing all right
You've got an army
Of suits behind you
You'd rather he was willing
And I said I used to
Make a pretty good living
But you must make a killing
A killing
And I hope that you are happy
I hope at least you are having fun
'Cuz everyone
Is a fucking Napoleon
Everyone
Is a fucking Napoleon
Now you think that is
That's the way it's gonna be
So that's what this is all about
And I think that's
The way it always was
You chose not to notice
Until now
Well you know that
There's a problem
You called me up to confide
And you go on for over an hour
About each one that took you
For a ride
And I guess that
You dialed my number
Because you thought for sure that
I'd agree
I said that baby
You know I still love you
But how dare you
Complain to me?
'Cuz everone
Is a fucking Napoleon
Because everyone
Is a fucking Napoleon
Napoleon
-Ani
The wind is ruthless
The trees shake angry fingers
At the sky
And the people
Hunch their shoulders
Hold their collars over their ears
And run by
It's a cold rain
It's a hard rain
Like the kind that you find
In songs
I guess that makes me
The jerk with the heartache
Here to sing you
About how I've been
Done wrong
I am sitting
Watching
Out the window of the coffee shop
And I am waiting
Waiting
Waiting for it to let up
And I am rocking
Like a cradle
Warming my hands
With a cup in between
And I am leaning
Over the table
Holding my face over the steam
And before it gets so cold
That the rain turns to snow
There's just a couple things
I'd like to know
How could you do nothing
And say I'm doing my best?
How could you take almost everything
And then come back for the rest?
How could you beg me to stay
Reach out your hands and plead?
And then pack up your eyes
And run away
As soon as I agree?
It just all slips
Away so slowly
You don't even notice
Until you've lost a lot
You've been like one of those zombies
In Vegas
Pouring quarters into a slot
And now I'm tired
And I'm broke
And I feel stupid
And I feel used
And I'm at the end
Of my little rope
And I am swinging
Back and forth before you
Before it gets so cold
That the rain turns to snow
There's just a couple things
I'd like to know
How could you do nothing
And say I'm doing my best?
How could you take almost everything
And then come back for the rest?
How could you beg me to stay
Reach out your hands and plead?
And then pack up your eyes
And run away
As soon as I agree?
The wind is ruthless
The trees shake angry fingers
At the sky
And the people
Hunch their shoulders
Hold their collars over their ears
And run by
And it's a cold rain
It's a hard rain
Like the kind that you find
In songs
I guess that makes me
The jerk with the heartache
Here to sing you
About how I've been
Done wrong
Done Wrong
-Ani
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Thought I had a witness to this crime.
Last Christmas Eve in Topeka, Kansas, I patiently explained to my aunt that walking the sidewalks of New York City is just like driving the highways of Kansas. You are aware of the other people on the road only to the extent necessary to make sure they aren't about to wreck into you. The comparison is perhaps inadequate to describe how pointedly you must work to ignore the others on the sidewalks in the city as you walk them alone.
When walking the streets in a group, however, people gain certain advantages. Invisible bonds of gait, stride, and purpose join together two or more people walking as a group. The solo dancer on the pavement may choose to work with or go around the bonds between walkers, but only those who have created the ties may truly break them.
When I shared the metaphor with my aunt, she looked very sad. At the time I thought she really didn't understand what I was saying, that in fact it was as okay to ignore other walkers as it is to ignore other drivers, but now I'm not so sure. Walking alone lately, I have wondered whether I don't envy the Midwestern drivers their thick skins of metal and glass, which prevent the traveler from forming those idle, inconvenient bonds which hurt so much when they are inevitably broken. Maybe it is a little sad.
When walking the streets in a group, however, people gain certain advantages. Invisible bonds of gait, stride, and purpose join together two or more people walking as a group. The solo dancer on the pavement may choose to work with or go around the bonds between walkers, but only those who have created the ties may truly break them.
When I shared the metaphor with my aunt, she looked very sad. At the time I thought she really didn't understand what I was saying, that in fact it was as okay to ignore other walkers as it is to ignore other drivers, but now I'm not so sure. Walking alone lately, I have wondered whether I don't envy the Midwestern drivers their thick skins of metal and glass, which prevent the traveler from forming those idle, inconvenient bonds which hurt so much when they are inevitably broken. Maybe it is a little sad.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Gayer than thou.
Often times I don't feel that I'm very gay.
I'm a princess, yes. But that doesn't necessarily equate with the mainstream notion of "gay." Nearly every pair of jeans I own cost less than $50. I don't wear loafers. I'm much more comfortable in "working class" environments (with the understanding that in NYC the working class is, for the most part, commercial rather than industrial--who does manual labor in the new millennium?).
The foregoing are all subjective and debatable, but perhaps most importantly, my social life is confined largely to the leather community and contacts I've made therefrom. Whatever else it is, that social circle is undeniably a bit outside of the "norm" of gay culture.
Anyhow, this weekend I'm in DC visiting Scooter. He and I go way back, which is another blog post, maybe tomorrow. Once upon a time we tore up the Kansas City leather scene. Scooter, however, has the ability to move outside the leather social scenes and into the mainstream. It's a thing I envy and admire, and on occasions when I visit, enjoy moving around in his wake.
So we went shopping yesterday and tore up Pentagon Row. We took over the Denim Bar, which is staffed by faux hipsters who didn't know how to deal with a couple queens who like to lounge while discussing the relative ass benefits of each pair of jeans. I left with a very cute pair of painted-on jeans...no, I don't need another, but I didn't have this particular blue wash yet. Then we hit the maul and camped it up with the over-gymed queen in Guess and found some startling deals at FCUK. I bought the most adorable blue corduroy jacket for like 70% of its original price...holla for not paying retail! We shopped so much that we were nearly late getting home to get ready for our evening's festivities.
We arrived at the DC Gay Mens' Chorus looking very dashing. Scooter was in some new slim cut jeans, a blue and white shirt layer from Guess, and a green military shirt-cut jacket. I was in jeans, a grey Salvage print thermal, a light yellow Banana button down, and the blue FCUK cord jacket. We both looked hot and terribly, terribly gay. We heard the Fauré Requiem and the Rutter Gloria, as well as some old gay mens chorus standards. The audience insisted on applauding between movements, which was odd, but overall it was a lovely evening. I even ran into an old acquaintance from Kansas who works on pipe organs, so we were able to dish about the National Cathedral for a little. Fun!
The afterparty is where things really got gay, if you can believe it. Someone told Scott that I looked like I was from Manhattan! It was an oddly triumphant moment to realize that I could be so convincingly mainstream NYC gay that I might fool someone into believing it. Of course the façade would never hold up in the city, but that's hardly the point--for a moment, several states away, it worked.
Later, at The Eagle, a bear from Philadelphia told me I'd be really hot if I'd just lose the angry, bitter attitude. I wondered, then, whether it might not have been the clothes that fooled them. Ouch. I staggered back to Scooter's place and thoroughly passed out on the couch.
Perhaps I'm meant for NYC more than I care to admit. What a terrifying thought. I don't want to be that gay.
P.S. Shout out to my Heeb-boo! Love you, Big Papa.
I'm a princess, yes. But that doesn't necessarily equate with the mainstream notion of "gay." Nearly every pair of jeans I own cost less than $50. I don't wear loafers. I'm much more comfortable in "working class" environments (with the understanding that in NYC the working class is, for the most part, commercial rather than industrial--who does manual labor in the new millennium?).
The foregoing are all subjective and debatable, but perhaps most importantly, my social life is confined largely to the leather community and contacts I've made therefrom. Whatever else it is, that social circle is undeniably a bit outside of the "norm" of gay culture.
Anyhow, this weekend I'm in DC visiting Scooter. He and I go way back, which is another blog post, maybe tomorrow. Once upon a time we tore up the Kansas City leather scene. Scooter, however, has the ability to move outside the leather social scenes and into the mainstream. It's a thing I envy and admire, and on occasions when I visit, enjoy moving around in his wake.
So we went shopping yesterday and tore up Pentagon Row. We took over the Denim Bar, which is staffed by faux hipsters who didn't know how to deal with a couple queens who like to lounge while discussing the relative ass benefits of each pair of jeans. I left with a very cute pair of painted-on jeans...no, I don't need another, but I didn't have this particular blue wash yet. Then we hit the maul and camped it up with the over-gymed queen in Guess and found some startling deals at FCUK. I bought the most adorable blue corduroy jacket for like 70% of its original price...holla for not paying retail! We shopped so much that we were nearly late getting home to get ready for our evening's festivities.
We arrived at the DC Gay Mens' Chorus looking very dashing. Scooter was in some new slim cut jeans, a blue and white shirt layer from Guess, and a green military shirt-cut jacket. I was in jeans, a grey Salvage print thermal, a light yellow Banana button down, and the blue FCUK cord jacket. We both looked hot and terribly, terribly gay. We heard the Fauré Requiem and the Rutter Gloria, as well as some old gay mens chorus standards. The audience insisted on applauding between movements, which was odd, but overall it was a lovely evening. I even ran into an old acquaintance from Kansas who works on pipe organs, so we were able to dish about the National Cathedral for a little. Fun!
The afterparty is where things really got gay, if you can believe it. Someone told Scott that I looked like I was from Manhattan! It was an oddly triumphant moment to realize that I could be so convincingly mainstream NYC gay that I might fool someone into believing it. Of course the façade would never hold up in the city, but that's hardly the point--for a moment, several states away, it worked.
Later, at The Eagle, a bear from Philadelphia told me I'd be really hot if I'd just lose the angry, bitter attitude. I wondered, then, whether it might not have been the clothes that fooled them. Ouch. I staggered back to Scooter's place and thoroughly passed out on the couch.
Perhaps I'm meant for NYC more than I care to admit. What a terrifying thought. I don't want to be that gay.
P.S. Shout out to my Heeb-boo! Love you, Big Papa.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Appropriate Death Music
well hey do you do judo when they surround you
a little mental yoga will they disappear
it's grim but never dubious as motives go
no matter what it takes she promises a show
thunder wishes it could be the snow
wishes it could be as loved as she can be
these gifts are here for her, for you, for me
i watch me be this other thing, i never know
if i'm marooned or where the purple people go
then lily white matricide from vicious words
it doesn't leave a scratch so therefore no one's hurt
thunder wishes it could be the show
wishes it could be as loved as she can be
these gifts are here for her, for you, for me
and on and on the nurses make it clear
just when you escape you have yourself to fear
a restaurant that never has to close
breakfast every hour it could save the world
so hey do you do judo in your finery
an angel's face is tricky to wear constantly
thunder wishes it could be the snow
wishes it could be as loved as she can be
these gifts are here for her, for you for me
purple people (christmas in space)
tori
a little mental yoga will they disappear
it's grim but never dubious as motives go
no matter what it takes she promises a show
thunder wishes it could be the snow
wishes it could be as loved as she can be
these gifts are here for her, for you, for me
i watch me be this other thing, i never know
if i'm marooned or where the purple people go
then lily white matricide from vicious words
it doesn't leave a scratch so therefore no one's hurt
thunder wishes it could be the show
wishes it could be as loved as she can be
these gifts are here for her, for you, for me
and on and on the nurses make it clear
just when you escape you have yourself to fear
a restaurant that never has to close
breakfast every hour it could save the world
so hey do you do judo in your finery
an angel's face is tricky to wear constantly
thunder wishes it could be the snow
wishes it could be as loved as she can be
these gifts are here for her, for you for me
purple people (christmas in space)
tori
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