Source: EVB
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I sent out a first draft of my personal statement to various friends of various qualifications. I regret not editing it more before sending out the mass email, although they all know me. Some quite intimately. For those of you who read this blog and also sent me back suggested edits, thank you.
I've been listening to an odd combination of music as I am trying to wrap up applications and stuff.
Grace Jones - That's The Trouble
MGMT - Of Moons, Birds & Monsters
Whitney Houston - Million Doller Bill
Lady Gaga - Paparazzi (Moto Blanco Mix) the only Lady Gaga song I can stomach.
I've been listening to an odd combination of music as I am trying to wrap up applications and stuff.
Grace Jones - That's The Trouble
MGMT - Of Moons, Birds & Monsters
Whitney Houston - Million Doller Bill
Lady Gaga - Paparazzi (Moto Blanco Mix) the only Lady Gaga song I can stomach.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Sunday, November 01, 2009
On ghosts, enter november
"I shot Samuel early on a rainy morning, after hanging out the whole night in a local Polish gay bar, still sleepdrunk and with a hangover kicking in. The schizophrenic expressions and sort of neurotic feeling blend in perfectly with the desolate surroundings of the bedroom."
-Yves de Brabander, photographer
Photos compliment my friend's haunting entry.
Let them eat treats
Last night B and I attended a performance at a small performance art venue in Uptown. The performance was called “Let Them Eat Cake” and was written by lesbian performance artist Holly Hughes who is a friend of my professor friend David Halperin. David kindly offered us his tickets after he inadvertently purchased them for the wrong date. The performance included cupcakes.
The space was made to look like a wedding venue, appropriately in a neighborhood in serious need of gentrifying. One of the few north neighborhoods in Chicago I have not felt safe in. Enter gay marriage to facilitate the gentrification of Uptown home of the Green Mill, a gay sports bar, and government housing.
When we were seated in the “wedding hall” we were both already tipsy, B from a beer and overpriced cocktail at a sushi lounge across the street, and me from a house party thrown by a coworker. There was a woman nursing her baby out in the open, my emotional discomfort betraying my liberal views. I was surprised at the number of gay men in attendance, since Holly is a renowned in lesbian circles, although it was supposed to be a wedding for two men.
The two men didn’t show up and it turned out that two other audience members would get married instead. One’s reason seemed to be more for the greater political good and the other’s was because getting gay married on the spot wouldn’t mean anything anyway.
I am interested in the ways that gay marriage allows us to take ourselves seriously, and all of the ways it serves as a parody for our personal struggle. I want all of the rights associated with marriage, and to not have it called anything else but marriage. I have a problem with a separate-but-equal definition for us, even if what we do with the definition will take on a whole other meaning. Marriage seems like one of the few state-sponsored areas that reeks of religion, and I am more for gay marriage as the promotion of secularism than I am for equality reasons. After all, many of us mistake our abject status for being better than them.
Holly was in attendance as a senile cat lady. She had cat stuffed animals strung to her bathrobe. There was a Greek Orthodox woman who seemed to have recently drank the gay marriage Kool aid. She ended up marrying the two women after an ordeal coming up with the vows. How do we define ourselves now? Are we marrying as two people or for the greater good? Why is our relationship in itself such a political issue?
To be married is to be grown up, or to not be seen as a child, and that is one of the things the performance made me think of. The eulogy was given by a “history professor” who went through the history of gay marriage, which certainly did not start out as a goal of gay liberation. Heteronormative marriage would have seemed like the antithesis to gay liberation, it still is to some including myself at times. However, with AIDS in the 80s and many gay people witnessing the death of their partners whose wishes were deferred to their homophobic family (straight people, imagine being at the mercy of your mother and father in law when your husband or wife is seriously ill, only that they don’t approve of your relationship). Not being married was to have your parents still call the shots, only in a time when these relationships were especially strained. The 80s were not a shining time for parents of gay children.
Back to the wedding, as I tried not to be distracted by my thoughts. I did not take off my coat which had a flower strung through one of the buttonholes, a tissue paper prop given to us when we walked in.
I recognized one of the cast members (in drag) as a Northwestern theater student I had been on a terrible date with. This also added to the bit of wedding drama that night.
I thought about my boyfriend in attendance with me that night, how he compliments me nicely. How he goes along with most of the things I suggest. It’s odd the words we use to describe the people in our lives, how they can have such a charge to them. Partner, boyfriend, spouse, best friend, friend, acquaintance, coworker.
The married same-sex couple expressed that they still wanted to be considered outlaws. I just want to be able to post tacky wedding pics up on Facebook.
The space was made to look like a wedding venue, appropriately in a neighborhood in serious need of gentrifying. One of the few north neighborhoods in Chicago I have not felt safe in. Enter gay marriage to facilitate the gentrification of Uptown home of the Green Mill, a gay sports bar, and government housing.
When we were seated in the “wedding hall” we were both already tipsy, B from a beer and overpriced cocktail at a sushi lounge across the street, and me from a house party thrown by a coworker. There was a woman nursing her baby out in the open, my emotional discomfort betraying my liberal views. I was surprised at the number of gay men in attendance, since Holly is a renowned in lesbian circles, although it was supposed to be a wedding for two men.
The two men didn’t show up and it turned out that two other audience members would get married instead. One’s reason seemed to be more for the greater political good and the other’s was because getting gay married on the spot wouldn’t mean anything anyway.
I am interested in the ways that gay marriage allows us to take ourselves seriously, and all of the ways it serves as a parody for our personal struggle. I want all of the rights associated with marriage, and to not have it called anything else but marriage. I have a problem with a separate-but-equal definition for us, even if what we do with the definition will take on a whole other meaning. Marriage seems like one of the few state-sponsored areas that reeks of religion, and I am more for gay marriage as the promotion of secularism than I am for equality reasons. After all, many of us mistake our abject status for being better than them.
Holly was in attendance as a senile cat lady. She had cat stuffed animals strung to her bathrobe. There was a Greek Orthodox woman who seemed to have recently drank the gay marriage Kool aid. She ended up marrying the two women after an ordeal coming up with the vows. How do we define ourselves now? Are we marrying as two people or for the greater good? Why is our relationship in itself such a political issue?
To be married is to be grown up, or to not be seen as a child, and that is one of the things the performance made me think of. The eulogy was given by a “history professor” who went through the history of gay marriage, which certainly did not start out as a goal of gay liberation. Heteronormative marriage would have seemed like the antithesis to gay liberation, it still is to some including myself at times. However, with AIDS in the 80s and many gay people witnessing the death of their partners whose wishes were deferred to their homophobic family (straight people, imagine being at the mercy of your mother and father in law when your husband or wife is seriously ill, only that they don’t approve of your relationship). Not being married was to have your parents still call the shots, only in a time when these relationships were especially strained. The 80s were not a shining time for parents of gay children.
Back to the wedding, as I tried not to be distracted by my thoughts. I did not take off my coat which had a flower strung through one of the buttonholes, a tissue paper prop given to us when we walked in.
I recognized one of the cast members (in drag) as a Northwestern theater student I had been on a terrible date with. This also added to the bit of wedding drama that night.
I thought about my boyfriend in attendance with me that night, how he compliments me nicely. How he goes along with most of the things I suggest. It’s odd the words we use to describe the people in our lives, how they can have such a charge to them. Partner, boyfriend, spouse, best friend, friend, acquaintance, coworker.
The married same-sex couple expressed that they still wanted to be considered outlaws. I just want to be able to post tacky wedding pics up on Facebook.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The hangover lifts
Life post seeing Kylie in concert has had its ups and downs. More recently the ups have outweighed the downs, which is why I am finally able to work on my little hobby here. Seeing Kylie perform was a number of things ranging from surreal to overwhelming. I suppose these past weeks of non-blogging have been the hangover from that event. I was less than 20 feet from Miss Minogue but miles away in terms of all the gays blocking her. I do not fare well in crowds, let alone crowds of bitchy flamboyant gays who will stop nothing short of fighting dirty to see a glamorous woman on stage.
Being at that concert was a confrontation with my gay identity, a lot of it was pretty but some of it ugly. Kylie Minogue put on one hell of a show in what might as well have been a high school gym. It was like she had arrived in my high school gym in the year 2000. Talk about a pep rally. The show was fast-paced, and my memories of each set are meshed with the scenes of her performances on DVD. I hope they have a DVD of her American Tour, although I doubt that there will be a market for such a thing. I am guessing Kylie didn’t think too much of Chicago, on her tour blog her crew said they were looking forward to Toronto – on the day they arrived here. There was the whole thing with the last minute move of her performance from a smaller venue, which some say sold out, and others say that the size of her production couldn’t fit. Nevertheless, I was happy that she was able to pack in her LCD screens which is by far the best touch she could add to her electronic music infused performances. Most of the projections could be found on the X Tour DVD which I thoroughly enjoy, including Kylie in all white with a masquerade mask mouthing the words to Boombox followed by Can’t Get You Out of My Head. That is one of the best remixes.
Zach, Ashley’s fiance and one of the few straight men in attendance, really seemed to have enjoyed himself. I know he’s more a fan of the darker electronic stuff but I think there is something about Minogue that appealed to him, besides his fiance’s and mine obsession. Ashley and I about died when Kylie first came down on the giant skull, the lasers right before that were pretty awesome, and then down comes Kylie looking like exactly as she does on the DVDs. I screamed out loud. The best Ashley and I could see Kylie was when she came down on that skull. It was ironic that my tallest friends of mine who came with us were probably her lesser fans, but they had much better views. My calves hurt the next day from standing on my tiptoes. I could see her well at many points throughout the concert though, and when I couldn’t I stared at the projection screens.
I have never seen men lined up to use a bathroom. The girls’ restroom you could walk right in. I would say gay men out numbered women by 3 to 1 at least. Straight men, well I think there might have been 4 total. Which I don’t quite understand because Minogue put on sort of a burlesque show. I think she is pretty hot but do straight men? Perhaps its the music they can't get into. However, I thought how my dad would have enjoyed seeing her regardless of the frou frou music. She even did have a band that would chime in at breaks in the DJ setlist. It was an odd infusion but it worked, including her hot trumpet saxophone and trombone players who played a marching band intro to Wow. This description sounds terrible but it really worked. Maybe I’m a sucker for hipster marching band dance music.
The ugly part of my gay identity. I found myself hating the flamboyant gays who pushed in front of me, who had their camera phones out at every moment (minus my friend Robin, who took the great pics below). I found myself envious of Kylie, wanting her money and her sex appeal. There were times when I wondered how such a dumb bitch could have that much fame and money (but not in this country). She is a performer, her singing not that great, but certainly improved. She does what she does well, but even I do not understand what it is about her that is so appealing. The feelings of misogyny – toward Kylie and toward gay femininity, were countered with admiration for the way she markets herself. She is not the best performer in the world but she does pretty well for herself. She exudes energy of something she isn’t, a real performer, and by faking this enough she certainly has made herself one. I both admire and resent this quality. To be able to become what you want before you possess the essence. Is anyone really born a performer though? Is anyone really born anything? You become what you are, not by going to school, but by being thrust into the role. We thrust.
Kylie Minogue in Chicago (photos taken by my friend Robin)
Being at that concert was a confrontation with my gay identity, a lot of it was pretty but some of it ugly. Kylie Minogue put on one hell of a show in what might as well have been a high school gym. It was like she had arrived in my high school gym in the year 2000. Talk about a pep rally. The show was fast-paced, and my memories of each set are meshed with the scenes of her performances on DVD. I hope they have a DVD of her American Tour, although I doubt that there will be a market for such a thing. I am guessing Kylie didn’t think too much of Chicago, on her tour blog her crew said they were looking forward to Toronto – on the day they arrived here. There was the whole thing with the last minute move of her performance from a smaller venue, which some say sold out, and others say that the size of her production couldn’t fit. Nevertheless, I was happy that she was able to pack in her LCD screens which is by far the best touch she could add to her electronic music infused performances. Most of the projections could be found on the X Tour DVD which I thoroughly enjoy, including Kylie in all white with a masquerade mask mouthing the words to Boombox followed by Can’t Get You Out of My Head. That is one of the best remixes.
Zach, Ashley’s fiance and one of the few straight men in attendance, really seemed to have enjoyed himself. I know he’s more a fan of the darker electronic stuff but I think there is something about Minogue that appealed to him, besides his fiance’s and mine obsession. Ashley and I about died when Kylie first came down on the giant skull, the lasers right before that were pretty awesome, and then down comes Kylie looking like exactly as she does on the DVDs. I screamed out loud. The best Ashley and I could see Kylie was when she came down on that skull. It was ironic that my tallest friends of mine who came with us were probably her lesser fans, but they had much better views. My calves hurt the next day from standing on my tiptoes. I could see her well at many points throughout the concert though, and when I couldn’t I stared at the projection screens.
I have never seen men lined up to use a bathroom. The girls’ restroom you could walk right in. I would say gay men out numbered women by 3 to 1 at least. Straight men, well I think there might have been 4 total. Which I don’t quite understand because Minogue put on sort of a burlesque show. I think she is pretty hot but do straight men? Perhaps its the music they can't get into. However, I thought how my dad would have enjoyed seeing her regardless of the frou frou music. She even did have a band that would chime in at breaks in the DJ setlist. It was an odd infusion but it worked, including her hot trumpet saxophone and trombone players who played a marching band intro to Wow. This description sounds terrible but it really worked. Maybe I’m a sucker for hipster marching band dance music.
The ugly part of my gay identity. I found myself hating the flamboyant gays who pushed in front of me, who had their camera phones out at every moment (minus my friend Robin, who took the great pics below). I found myself envious of Kylie, wanting her money and her sex appeal. There were times when I wondered how such a dumb bitch could have that much fame and money (but not in this country). She is a performer, her singing not that great, but certainly improved. She does what she does well, but even I do not understand what it is about her that is so appealing. The feelings of misogyny – toward Kylie and toward gay femininity, were countered with admiration for the way she markets herself. She is not the best performer in the world but she does pretty well for herself. She exudes energy of something she isn’t, a real performer, and by faking this enough she certainly has made herself one. I both admire and resent this quality. To be able to become what you want before you possess the essence. Is anyone really born a performer though? Is anyone really born anything? You become what you are, not by going to school, but by being thrust into the role. We thrust.
Kylie Minogue in Chicago (photos taken by my friend Robin)
Monday, October 19, 2009
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Fasten your seat belts
Today feels like Christmas Eve, or Xmas because I prefer to leave out the Christ (X was the title of Her last album, anyway). I have felt as if I was in a non-drug induced high all day. With few worries today, or stress, I don't know what exactly I will talk about with my analyst today. It may be a time to reflect on my gay identity. The moment when I realized I was gay. It was my Kylie moment when I was chatting in gay Australian chat rooms to avoid being "discovered." The false sense of security of being in the closet when you over-exert control and meticulousness in some areas to avoid detection, while completely ignoring others (an unrefreshed browser history, the mysterious calls on the family landline -- cell phones weren't as prosaic only 11 years ago). Like many closeted gays I had the door open whether I liked it or not, and Kylie was blaring from that miserable space. 11 years of Kylie Minogue. Her outer worldly music 11 years ago sounded so fresh and familiar to me. And although it didn't matter whether or not she had any "real" vocal abilities (whatever that means), she had something. A sexual aesthetic. Robots.
I think we all have a drive to worship something, whether it be the gods as dictated to us by religious authority or by the gods we create ourselves. One religions god is another's idol -- we're all worshipers of idols. Diva worship among gay men is a very curious phenomenon. I do not know what it is that makes some of us drawn to certain female singers. I don't see it as much of an abject identification with a woman who transcended her inferior role in society. I see it as my affinity toward the aesthetic. I do not want to be her. There is a certain energy that she represents that I find particularly holy to me, that no other singer with a large gay following seems to have.
Zach and Ashley arrive tomorrow. The venue has been moved from the Congress to the UIC Pavilion to accommodate her set. I want to be there by 4 PM, although the event starts at 8 PM. If I can wait that long to see Obama I can wait to see Kylie. Chicago may not have gotten the Olympics but it got Kylie Minogue this year.
This is what we have to look forward to:
I think we all have a drive to worship something, whether it be the gods as dictated to us by religious authority or by the gods we create ourselves. One religions god is another's idol -- we're all worshipers of idols. Diva worship among gay men is a very curious phenomenon. I do not know what it is that makes some of us drawn to certain female singers. I don't see it as much of an abject identification with a woman who transcended her inferior role in society. I see it as my affinity toward the aesthetic. I do not want to be her. There is a certain energy that she represents that I find particularly holy to me, that no other singer with a large gay following seems to have.
Zach and Ashley arrive tomorrow. The venue has been moved from the Congress to the UIC Pavilion to accommodate her set. I want to be there by 4 PM, although the event starts at 8 PM. If I can wait that long to see Obama I can wait to see Kylie. Chicago may not have gotten the Olympics but it got Kylie Minogue this year.
This is what we have to look forward to:
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