October 2015
The strange thing about hotel rooms is that they look familiar and seem familiar and have many of the accoutrements that seem domestic and familiar, but they are really weird, alien and anonymous places. ~ Moby
I need something truly beautiful to look at in hotel rooms. ~ Vivien Leigh
Power has got to be the most intoxicating thing in the world… and of all forms of power the most intoxicating is fame. ~ Diana Vreeland
Even now… after we’ve learned about how bad it really and truly gets, there is the glamour of self-destruction, imperishable, gem-hard, like some cursed talisman that cannot be destroyed by any known means. Still, still, the ones who go down can seem as if they’re more complicatedly, more dangerously, attuned to sadness and yes, the impossible grandeur. They’re romantic, goddamn them; we just can’t get it up in quite the same way for the sober and sensible, the dogged achievers, for all the good they do. We don’t adore them with the exquisite disdain we can bring to the addicts and miscreants. ~ Michael Cunningham
The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star continues with a stop in Ogunquit, Maine. The next stage of the Tour Book is the ‘On the Road/Hotel’ section, which is really just an excuse to bump and grind the booty, banned or not. There’s something deeper at work too, if you read between the crack(s). Most of us don’t want to go that deep, however, content to make a fuss over what’s going on at the surface. This iceberg runs far beneath that. Sometimes I think it runs on forever. Surely further than a shallow breath would allow…
For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life. ~ Albert Camus
A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness. ~ Jean Genet
A tour, no matter how delusional or make-believe, often includes some sort of life-on-the-road, and that means a stay at a hotel. Suzie and I were recently discussing whether we could live in a hotel for an extended period, and I initially said I absolutely could – it’s been a fantasy of mine. She claimed she’d get tired of it, and if I seriously contemplate the logistics involved, I suppose I would too. Still, it’s a nice fantasy to have.
Coming back to a clean room with freshly-folded towels, a bed that’s been immaculately made-up, and a bathroom that’s been re-stocked with cute little soaps and shampoos is certainly a lifestyle to which I could grow accustomed. {Insert your requisite ‘Andy-already-does-that’ comment here.}
There’s just something about a hotel room that sets me at ease. It goes along the same lines of traveling to new places. Some people have such an albatross of history and reputation that being outside of their customary space offers instant freedom. The tethers of image are not easily shorn, but finding oneself in a different city or place temporarily frees us from being known.
Many people find it reassuring to be among those who know them – friends and family and acquaintances who make them feel safe. I know that ease, and the heartening familiarity of seeing a face you know in a room filled with strangers, but being in a new environment and expecting to not know anyone has never bothered or scared me.
The limbo of travel status, and the state of staying in a hotel, is reinvigorating. It enlivens and sparks exercises in creativity. Forced to step outside our habits, into a strange room with strange sheets and a strange layout, we become something strange to ourselves.
THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR
The entry is traditionally peaceful. After the bustle of the lobby, and whatever check-in surprises occur, along with a crowded or uncrowded elevator ride, the walk down the hallway is the first level of hushed tranquility that a hotel usually affords. Bags in hand, and key in (or on) door, I take a deep breath as I enter the realm of the Hotel Room.
With its quiet stillness and luxury of alone time, there has always been something meditative about those first few moments in such a temporary home. The ordered neatness of it, the perceived cleanliness (even if it’s just a façade) contribute to the notion that there is safety there. The Virgo nature is such that order and sterility, even if merely false, is ever a comfort. Happiness is a perfectly flat bedspread, accented by a border of pillows and crisply turned-down sheets.
After setting down bags, and quickly perusing the bathroom, I look out the window to ascertain the view. Even the worst views allow some sort of light, even if it’s muted or shaded by surrounding buildings. Light is life, and most hotels wisely have large windows to allow for as much of it as possible.
Then, in hushed privacy and anonymous tranquility, the delicate dance with solitude.
With the bombardment of sounds and sights and relentless stimulation, the sudden quietude of a hotel room is blissfully shocking.
The light shifts as the hours pass, but nothing disturbs the quiet.
At the dimming of the day, or sometimes sooner, I feel an itch to get out – as necessary and vital as it feels to remain, and I’ll change into something new and explore wherever I happen to be.
Knowing that the room will be there when I return is enough.
Knowing that its silence will remain intact is a solace.
Knowing that no one else knows me here is a relief.
Continuing with our exploration of the whimsical and strange posts that have appeared on this site, here are a few more out-of-the-ordinary posts. That means entries without Gratuitous Nudity, Naked Male Celebrities, Male Models, Male Nudity or Tom Daley. But there’s still worth looking at, I swear! In fact, I find them much more entertaining than my ass, or anyone else’s ass, and that’s saying something.
A favorite bathroom floor experience.
Adventures in Babysitting.
Kitchen mayhem (not of my doing!)
Speaking of the midnight hour…
McFly, my pretties.
Every now and then I like to veer away from Madonna and Ben Cohen and even David Beckham to post something strange and, in my opinion, wonderful to share with you. (I’ll never have enough Tom Ford.) I consider these one-off posts the spices that go into making this blog a little more flavorful and unexpected. There’s nothing better than a third act surprise. Sometimes whimsical, sometimes funny, and sometimes touching, these entries are just different enough to keep people guessing. Here are a few of my favorites:
The first girl I almost married.
Correspondence with my niece and nephew.
6th Grade S&M. (I started early.)
It separates us from the animals.
Every once in a while you need a little smudge.
Confessions of a Former Twink.
The moon in spring (and I don’t mean my naked ass).
Going commando, semi-inadvertently.
More to come… so come back.
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
Woke up this morning feeling good that you were gone
Hurt for a while, but I’m finally moving on
Said it, did it, hit it, quit it
Then you let it go
See you tryin’ to call me, but I blocked you on my phone
It took a minute, but now I’m feeling strong
It almost killed me, but I’m better off alone
Now you’re saying that you’re sorry, I don’t wanna know
Better face the fact you had to go
Saucy, sassy, brash, and brilliant, this is Madonna giving a grand fuck-off to those paramours who have done her wrong. With a reggae-inspired beat, it’s a departure from almost every other song she’s done. (Though a bit of the feel did make it into the ‘Erotica’ save-the-world anomaly ‘Why’s It So Hard’.)
This wasn’t a particular highlight of the ‘Rebel Heart‘ album for me, but to each their own. It has since grown on me after enjoying Madonna’s rendition of it on her current tour. As the penultimate song, it carries the weight of a finale, even if it falls a bit flat in the end.
I know you’d like it if I sat at home and cried
But that ain’t gonna happen, here’s the reason why
When we did it, I’ll admit it, wasn’t satisfied
When the gun was loaded you were never on the side
I’m popping bottles that you can’t even afford
I’m throwing parties and you won’t get in the door
Said it, get it, love it, hate it
I don’t care no more
Tell me how it feels to be ignored
For that performance, Madonna has been bringing up a special co-dancer for the last portion of it. She spanks them, kicks them in the ass, and presents them with a surprise gift (usually a banana). Guests so far have included Amy Schumer, Anderson Cooper, and, when I saw her in Boston, her ten-year-old son David who was celebrating a birthday that night. Some raised eyebrows at a kid being named the ‘Unapologetic Bitch’ but when Madonna’s your mother, well, it works.
The song itself carries a classic Madonna mantra: she’s not sorry, and she never will be. In this instance, such a stance seems justified, and the seething anger of the lyrics is tempered only by the ability of Madonna to move forward without giving her wrong-doer a second thought. Cold, brutal, and the best method of survival, it masks hidden hurt and regret, something much of Madonna’s work manages to convey. A complex notion from a complex woman, and all the more compelling because of it.
It might sound like I’m an unapologetic bitch
But sometimes you know I gotta call it like it is
It might sound like I’m an unapologetic bitch
But sometimes you know I gotta call it like it is
You know you never really knew how much you loved me, till you lost me
Did you?
You know you never knew how much your selfish bullshit cost me
Well, fuck you
SONG #115: ‘Unapologetic Bitch’ – Late Summer 2015
October in Boston can be both beautiful and brutal. If a hurricane manages to make land, it’s a nightmare. To this day, I can remember a storm that hit on a Sunday I was scheduled to do inventory at Structure. (Ahh, the days of retail.) It was so bad I had to take a cab to Faneuil Hall, effectively using up any time-and-a-half pay I would earn that day, but it was so worth it. Looking at the wet bedraggled messes of people that came in the store, I didn’t envy anyone who had to be outside for however short a period. I stayed until the work, and the day, was done, and the storm had subsided.
These past few weeks in Boston have been pretty glorious. The turn of the screw into fall has been a crisp and gorgeous affair, but such beauty will eventually be balanced with the bad, and that’s all part of the wonder of the weather. I’m a bit behind on posting the fun stuff of my latest Madonna adventure at the former Boston Garden, but it will be here eventually. For now, a brief glimpse into the descent of evening in the city I love so much. Sometimes a photo makes the heart soar higher than any multitude of words ever could.
Fly, my pretty, fly.
This was the week in which the tide turned. Temperatures plummeted and fall was indisputably at hand. A Super Blood Moon kept things interesting, and I laid low to avoid the insanity and moodiness that sometimes accompanies such a lunar event. (End result: little to no sparring.) I’m embracing the shift, getting back into the kitchen for some roasted spaghetti squash, and perhaps frying up some sage leaves for a butternut pasta dish later. For now, our weekly look-back.
It began by the wrap-up of my Seattle Tour Stop. Shopping played an integral role in that visit (duh) but so did Snowqualmie Falls. It was Laura Palmer and Dale Cooper country, and it did not disappoint. Neither did Seattle.
It was Ally Week, and I gave a few shout-outs to some of my favorites.
It was a week in which I went true blue, literally, going back to my Manic Panic roots, but with a professional (and permanent) twist.
Speaking of favorites, there were a few new Hunks of the Day to enter internet immortality, as ephemeral and fleeting as that may be. Say hello to the shirtless shots of Nico Tortorella, Jack Mason and Jacek Jelonek.
Nick Jonas took his shirt off as well, and flexed his muscles, but he’s already been a Hunk of the Day, so until he does something more he only gets a minor post. Justin Bieber did NOT get naked, and has never been a Hunk of the Day.
This butt-shot got banned from FaceBook, but I reaped the benefits of the ban as always.
The Madonna Timeline returned with ‘Ghosttown.’
A major clean-up of my social media pages, and a new way of utilizing those sites, was put into effect. I feel more joyous already. (Don’t take any of it personally.)
The latest clean-up craze sweeping the world is based on Marie Kondo’s ‘The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.’ From what I’ve gathered, the general idea is to whittle your possessions down to those objects that truly make you happy – or those that “spark joy.” Strangely enough, or expectedly for one as seemingly frivolous as me, I’ve only ever owned things that give me joy. (You won’t find a vacuum on my wish-list.) So utilizing that clean-up method won’t really change my living situation. Besides, I’m pretty good at discarding things that have passed their usefulness or joy dates.
The one area where I’ve let things get out of control is social media. Up until now, I’ve allowed all sorts of nonsense to go on my FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram pages. While I can control what goes up here, those pages are open to all sorts of public interaction and comment, and my page is also filled with the views and photos and links of anyone whom I’ve friended or followed.
For some reason, I’ve always erred on the side of allowing just about everyone’s comments to stay up. When they criticize my clothes or hair or body, I let it stand because, hey, this is America, and part of me felt it was more cowardly to delete them or take them down. (The only times I’ve removed comments were when they were about others.) I also remained friends/followers with those people whose posts regularly pissed me off. Whether it was their political stance (there are no reasonable Republicans left, and certainly not any in this Presidential race) or their racist/homophobic tendencies, or their ridicule of Madonna. I let it go because, well, I felt it was only fair to give them their say.
I’ve since changed my mind. While everyone is certainly entitled to their opinions and beliefs, I no longer have to have it on my page. I’m not a celebrity, I’m not a politician, I don’t need to give equal face-time to opposing viewpoints. – FaceBook, Twitter or otherwise. So from this point forward, if I don’t like something on social media, I’m probably going to unfriend, unfollow, or block. This is my way of keeping only those things that spark joy in my life. Of late, much of what I’ve been seeing online is depressing and upsetting, and I want to have fun when I’m delving into social media fluff. It’s escapism for me.
I don’t want to see or hear about political battles from anyone who seriously considers Donald Trump one of its top contenders. I don’t want to see videos about aborted fetuses. I don’t want to hear someone like Kim Davis say sanctimonious bullshit. I don’t want to read ageist or hateful comments about Madonna. Newsflash: I love Madonna. In what way does your joking about her being in a wheelchair or looking like a granny seem like it would be enjoyable or funny to me? So from this point forward, nasty comments about anything I post (especially Madonna) will get deleted, and repeated offenders will be dropped without notice or fanfare. (I also don’t want to see any more horoscope posts. I don’t give a fuck what the day has in store for an Aquarius – I’m not a fucking Aquarius.)
This is less a warning or threat, and more of a simple explanation, without spite or anger (ok, maybe a little horoscope anger). In the new tradition of sparking joy, my social media pages are going to be about what I like and love, and anything that goes against that will be deleted or blocked. (And you are free to do the same to my naked ass as well.)
In the words of a wise woman, “I’m sorry, but this is not a democracy.”
Welcome, Joy. Bring your Happiness.
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
It’s only fitting that the Madonna Timeline is shifting to songs from the current ‘Rebel Heart’ era, as Madonna is out and about on her ‘Rebel Heart’ tour. A thorough review of the show I saw in Boston is forthcoming, but for now a Madonna Timeline to whet the appetite.
Originally released at the tail end of 2014 in the midst of the disastrous leak that saw most of the ‘Rebel Heart’ album exposed well before its time, ‘Ghosttown’ received universal praise, a magnificently haunting video, but little promotion. In the tumultuous scramble for how best to salvage Madonna’s greatest album since ‘Ray of Light’ it seems the powers-that-be jetted from one song (‘Living For Love‘) to another (‘Ghosttown’) to another (‘Bitch I’m Madonna‘) hoping one would instantly ignite. Of course, without any sort of singular sustained or focused promo push on a single one, each made little impact. That’s a damn shame, as ‘Ghosttown’ is easily one of the most moving songs of her last three albums.
MAYBE IT WAS ALL TOO MUCH
TOO MUCH FOR A MAN TO TAKE
EVERYTHING’S BOUND TO BREAK
SOONER OR LATER, SOONER OR LATER
YOU’RE ALL THAT I CAN TRUST
FACING THE DARKEST DAYS
EVERYONE RAN AWAY
WE’RE GONNA STAY HERE, WE’RE GONNA STAY HERE
I KNOW YOU’RE SCARED TONIGHT
I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
I’LL BE YOUR FIRE WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT
WHEN THERE’S NO ONE, NO ONE ELSE AROUND
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
WHEN THE WORLD GETS COLD, I’LL BE YOUR COVER
LET’S JUST HOLD ONTO EACH OTHER
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
A post-apocalyptic love song, it touched on a timely theme that the entire ‘˜Rebel Heart’ album expounded upon: the survival of the soul through the act of love. Having just made it through the god-awful winter of 2015, where snow covered and ravaged the Northeast for a good four months straight, many of us could relate to what it was like having to hold onto each other to get us through the dark times.
I would sit in the dim gray rooms of early morning, typing away on my lap-top, its glowing screen the only portal to light, and I remember feeling like that winter would never stop. Storm after snow-storm left us shut in, my regular trips to Boston canceled over and over again. It was the longest I’d been away from that favorite city in over a decade. I felt isolated, removed.
I listened to this song like a mantra. When tears threatened, it quelled them. When anger arose, it calmed me. Some songs were made for helping us get through things.
TELL ME HOW WE GOT THIS FAR
EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF
EVERYTHING’S GONE TO HELL
WE GOTTA STAY STRONG, WE’RE GONNA HOLD ON
THIS WORLD HAS TURNED TO DUST
ALL WE’VE GOT LEFT IS LOVE
MIGHT AS WELL START WITH US
SINGING A NEW SONG, SOMETHING TO BUILD ON
I KNOW YOU’RE SCARED TONIGHT
I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
I’LL BE YOUR FIRE WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT
WHEN THERE’S NO ONE, NO ONE ELSE AROUND
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
WHEN THE WORLD GETS COLD, I’LL BE YOUR COVER
LET’S JUST HOLD ONTO EACH OTHER
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
How did we get through it? Andy was here. And JoAnn made a visit. And even in the midst of snow, my work pal Ginny and I would brave the road to Starbucks for a mid-day escape of laughter and fun and vital escape. Pumping gas or shopping for groceries, I’d look into the eyes of strangers and feel a sympathetic understanding, some sense of ‘we’re-all-in-this-together’ that made things better. I’m not usually so attuned to others, so willing to let down my guard and shared in an experience, but sometimes it gets you through the day – and a terrible winter.
Madonna was reaching out too, in her music was a new warmth and vulnerability not quite there on her otherwise-scorching ‘MDNA’ album and its predecessor ‘Hard Candy’. The ‘Rebel Heart’ era was ushering in a red-hot yet heartfelt woman who seemed to feel rather keenly the need to connect again. We were all ready for it.
I KNOW WE’RE ALRIGHT
‘CAUSE WE’LL NEVER BE ALONE IN THIS MAD MAD, IN THIS MAD MAD WORLD
EVEN WITH NO LIGHT
WE’RE GONNA SHINE LIKE GOLD IN THIS MAD MAD, IN THIS MAD MAD WORLD
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
I’LL BE YOUR FIRE WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT
WHEN THERE’S NO ONE, NO ONE ELSE AROUND
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
I’LL BE YOUR FIRE WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT
WHEN THERE’S NO ONE, NO ONE ELSE AROUND
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
WHEN THE WORLD GETS COLD, I’LL BE YOUR COVER
LET’S JUST HOLD ONTO EACH OTHER
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWN
WHEN IT ALL FALLS, WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN
WE’LL BE TWO SOULS IN A GHOSTTOWNÂ
Though the song made the aforementioned lack of impact, it came with one of the most beautiful videos of Madonna’s career, featuring Terrence Howard and telling a hopeful story of being the last few people left standing, and coming together in the midst of a ruined world.
Madonna has made a life of rising from the ashes of any burnt-out shell of destruction – whether said doom was of her own making or someone else’s. She’s rebounded from all sorts of calamitous scandals, from caustic relationships, from failed marriages, and from personal and professional failures. That resiliency is at the core of ‘Ghosttown’ – it’s raw, it’s romantic, and it’s the only road to salvation she’s ever known.
SONG #114 – ‘Ghosttown’ ~ Late Winter/Early Spring 2015
Every time a photo of mine gets banned from FaceBook (and it’s only happened on two or three occasions) I see a surge in traffic on this website, so while on some level it’s annoying that an anonymous nobody can report a photo (doesn’t the basic tenet of being accused of something require that you know your accuser?) on every other level it’s a win.
Here is the offending photograph, a cheeky shout-out to show my excitement regarding the release of Matthew Rettenmund’s fantastic ‘Encyclopedia Madonnica 20’ (which will get a proper write-up in a bit). It’s hard to see this as anything more than a risqué bit of artful nudity, but in the world we live in I guess people would rather see pictures of bloody fetuses or murdered students than any artistic depiction of the unadorned human body. No matter.
Given the quick turn-around of this post, one might think it was just a ploy for precisely this reason, and that I was just waiting/baiting for someone to report it. I can assure you from my ever-loving heart that nothing could be further from the truth. [Wink-wink.] What do you think this is, ‘Justify My Love‘? I’m not making any money off of this.
But I do welcome any and all reports of nudity, because it makes this site what it is. Now kiss my ass!
… this post is probably not for you. It’s merely a moving vehicle to showcase the video of a segway dance that’s steamrolling the internet right now, set to Justin Bieber’s new song. Personally, I’m not a fan of Mr. Bieber, even when he gets nude, nor am I a huge fan of this video. It’s being posted here to see if anyone can change my mind. I just don’t get what the fuss is about. Yes, it’s kind of neat, and no, I could never be half as facile with a segway (I’ve always found them stupid), but what is the big deal? It’s another instance of being let down by the incredible amount of hype and “you-MUST-see-this” hyperbole of the online world. And once again, I fell prey and wasted three minutes of my life watching it, and another four typing about it and copying the link and embedding the bullshit. In other words, I’m just as much a part of the problem. But this remains my blog, and until it changes to FillInYourNameHere.com, you’ll have to deal with it, or leave.
Wow, I guess I’m ornery on weekends too. [Shrugs.] I blame the Bieber.
After several weekends of non-stop traveling for The Delusional Grandeur Tour, I’m taking a break this weekend to gear up for the next stop. Before that, however, there are some posts that need to go up – namely a few Boston stops – including my latest run-in with Madonna. There may be a new Madonna Timeline entry to honor the occasion too (though that has yet to be written). Â In other words, I’m just buying some time with this post.
The featured photo here is a scary nod to the bunny that gets exorcized in the new tour book… but that is also to come. For now, the waiting, the anticipating, and the celebrating. Fall is here. My attention turns to the kitchen. My focus shifts slightly inward. My gaze is on the distant horizon of the holiday season. Still, I won’t turn down a few more sunny and warm days if October would be so kind.
