I have 106 friends on Facebook.
This is a strange world in which we live. This friend count is more or less accurate. Some of these people I haven't seen in years, perhaps decades, but I do know all of these people.
I guess where I run into problems is that word "Friend." I think that friends are something that are all too often taken for granted. I have a Facebook friend in San Francisco, a Facebook friend in Mexico, and other Facebook friends all over. I really don't think you can cultivate deep friendships with people across these massive expansive distances, even when connected electronically.
I have very few friends I hang out with on a regular basis, and that's kind of the way I prefer it. But at the same time, I lament the distance between many of the other friends who I only ever see on Facebook. I'd love to be in Istanbul with my friend Shay (totally heart you, girl) but I am willing to settle for browsing through her holiday snaps on her Facebook page.
Instead of the classic telephone call, I suppose Facebook really is the new way to Reach Out and Touch Someone.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Charlie's Angels Aware
I loved singing and performing. I always have. I took singing lessons, I was in children's choir at church, performed in school plays and talent shows; I loved being in front of people. I think in some ways I've been very much a drama queen, hell, I've even thought about being a drag queen, but that moment has thankfully passed.
When I was a very young child, I would take the wooden spoon out of the drawer in the kitchen and pretend it was my microphone. The fireplace hearth was my stage. My parents are particularly fond of a song I made up about wanting to get a kiss from a jungle woman. Though I don't remember it myself very well, I guess it's probably a factual account, but I'm just old enough that we didn't have a camcorder yet to verify such an event. I guess in retrospect it would have made a much better story if I actually sang "Fire" by Jimi Hendrix.
In kindergarten, I put together a band called the Hot Buns. I think this was actually a name of a band from an episode of the TV show "Gimmie a Break" so I don't really think I should have been credited for my originality. The punchline was later that year, my buns really were hot after a paddling. The Christian school I went to used a name on the board -> checkmark by name -> aggregation of checkmarks = paddling system of punishment. It was probably not a big deal. I talked a lot. I was very chatty along with my annoying precociousness.
When I grew up a little, my parents put me in Children's Choir at church. It was much better than listening to the pastor's 45 minute prayers or impossibly intellectual sermons, so I was okay with being there. Although I often wanted to stay home so I could watch reruns of Charlie's Angels.
I remember Pat, the lady in charge of the choir was very enthusiastic about teaching us music. But we never learned anything useful. She taught us the words using a gigantic poster sized easel with a mix of words and rebuses. It was all handwritten and must have taken weeks, but at the time, I despised the pictogram learning process, but it helped me learn with both sides of my brain, an incredible gift. For all the benefits of cross-brain learning, we were never taught how to read music. It was all learned by ear. Later I took piano lessons and learned music, but until I was 9 I didn't know middle c from my middle finger.
But the absolute best aspects of Children's Choir were putting on costumes and doing choreography. Once, our church did Angels Aware, a cornball musical about how God was going to come and save the earth. I will forever remember all of the Ten Commandments in order, as long as someone gives me enough time to sing them out in my head. With the sparkly gold Christmas garland halos, the dry ice cloud effects, and the choreography, I was quite literally in a form of prepubescent gay heaven. Too bad my brother and one of my sisters were also there.
It was around the time I was growing out of my family's K-Tel Dumb Ditties album and transitioning to popular music and 60s tunes my sister was into. I was also into Christian pop for a while, but I got over that when I turned 15 or 16.
As I grew up more and more, my taste in music evolved into what can only be described
as the quintessential gay boy trying to fit into the world around him. My favorite song until I was 15 was "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship. It came on the radio once in fifth grade. I was typically staying in from recess and helping the teacher clean the chalkboards with another student named Gabe. I started to dance and lip sync and Gabe just started laughing. I was unapologetic about my enthusiasm. The teacher was out of the room, and I probably wasn't supposed to be listening to a secular radio station anyway, so I just didn't care. Now I've realized that what I really loved was that the sexes of the singing voices were so indeterminate. Grace Slick's voice to an eleven year old may as well have been that of another man. Can you imagine the enthralling power this had on my sexually confused brain?
In high school, I got bolder. I was an avid fan of the B-52s, the notoriously gay party band from the Athens, Georgia music underground that billed itself as the "World's Greatest Party Band." To me, they were. I bought every CD I could get my hands on. Almost every Taco Bell paycheck went to a B-52s CD in one of those clunky, anachronistic CD long boxes.
The B-52s made me lose my young queer mind. I would dance and groove and sing along anywhere I heard their music. At the time I was puzzled why more of their songs didn't make it on the radio, but going back through their albums today, I realize, that they aren't that great. Fred Schneider, the lead singer can't carry a tune. He's got a kind of gravelly voice that makes me think of Suzanne Pleshette or Bea Arthur. Plus, their music was kind of subversive. It was positively dripping with lots of sexual innuendo. They have a song titled "Dirty Back Road." Incidentally, I didn't put that together with gay sex until a few weeks ago when I saw the CD case in my rack. I like to think I was progressive, but I was more naive than even I had imagined.
Sometime when I was about 15, I saw the movie Heathers for the first of what would prove to be an innumerable number of times. The movie was vividly absurdist and surreal, but funny as all hell. At the end, Sly and the Family Stone covered Que Sera Sera, and did an amazing job. It became my all-time favorite song. To this day it retains that title, in spite of 17 years of music inundating me from all conceivable media. The song was so utterly perfect because it sounded like an utter mess. In the slick world of the late 80s and early 90s music, the blues, funk and rhythm fused in my brain to turn me into a musical adult.
About the time I discovered Sly and the Family Stone, I stopped listening to Christian pop. I loathed the concept of it, for one thing. Even now, perhaps especially now I don't think it is in any way beneficial to anyone to package the message of gospel in mass-market crap music.
I went away to college and started listening to college type music. I got into Ben Folds Five, the Indigo Girls, Cake, Guster and Jimmy Buffett, just about everything. I got into dance music a little bit also, being that I did start going to gay bars and getting my dance groove on for real.
Now I feel sometimes that I have lost that musical feeling. In a world dominated by personalized access to music, I feel that we need more people willing to go out there and perform music, rather than just consume it. I think I would like to learn how to play an instrument. I only ever learned how to play the snare drum. The piano didn't really stick for some reason. I think playing music, as well as singing and dancing connect us to something larger than ourselves. I think this larger art is something the world needs more of.
Maybe I can gather up the Kindergarten gang and reform the Hot Buns. The band name carries a lot more irony now than it did in 1983. I imagine that our first number one hit will be a cover of the B-52s classic "Dirty Back Road."
When I was a very young child, I would take the wooden spoon out of the drawer in the kitchen and pretend it was my microphone. The fireplace hearth was my stage. My parents are particularly fond of a song I made up about wanting to get a kiss from a jungle woman. Though I don't remember it myself very well, I guess it's probably a factual account, but I'm just old enough that we didn't have a camcorder yet to verify such an event. I guess in retrospect it would have made a much better story if I actually sang "Fire" by Jimi Hendrix.
In kindergarten, I put together a band called the Hot Buns. I think this was actually a name of a band from an episode of the TV show "Gimmie a Break" so I don't really think I should have been credited for my originality. The punchline was later that year, my buns really were hot after a paddling. The Christian school I went to used a name on the board -> checkmark by name -> aggregation of checkmarks = paddling system of punishment. It was probably not a big deal. I talked a lot. I was very chatty along with my annoying precociousness.
When I grew up a little, my parents put me in Children's Choir at church. It was much better than listening to the pastor's 45 minute prayers or impossibly intellectual sermons, so I was okay with being there. Although I often wanted to stay home so I could watch reruns of Charlie's Angels.
I remember Pat, the lady in charge of the choir was very enthusiastic about teaching us music. But we never learned anything useful. She taught us the words using a gigantic poster sized easel with a mix of words and rebuses. It was all handwritten and must have taken weeks, but at the time, I despised the pictogram learning process, but it helped me learn with both sides of my brain, an incredible gift. For all the benefits of cross-brain learning, we were never taught how to read music. It was all learned by ear. Later I took piano lessons and learned music, but until I was 9 I didn't know middle c from my middle finger.
But the absolute best aspects of Children's Choir were putting on costumes and doing choreography. Once, our church did Angels Aware, a cornball musical about how God was going to come and save the earth. I will forever remember all of the Ten Commandments in order, as long as someone gives me enough time to sing them out in my head. With the sparkly gold Christmas garland halos, the dry ice cloud effects, and the choreography, I was quite literally in a form of prepubescent gay heaven. Too bad my brother and one of my sisters were also there.
It was around the time I was growing out of my family's K-Tel Dumb Ditties album and transitioning to popular music and 60s tunes my sister was into. I was also into Christian pop for a while, but I got over that when I turned 15 or 16.
As I grew up more and more, my taste in music evolved into what can only be described
as the quintessential gay boy trying to fit into the world around him. My favorite song until I was 15 was "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship. It came on the radio once in fifth grade. I was typically staying in from recess and helping the teacher clean the chalkboards with another student named Gabe. I started to dance and lip sync and Gabe just started laughing. I was unapologetic about my enthusiasm. The teacher was out of the room, and I probably wasn't supposed to be listening to a secular radio station anyway, so I just didn't care. Now I've realized that what I really loved was that the sexes of the singing voices were so indeterminate. Grace Slick's voice to an eleven year old may as well have been that of another man. Can you imagine the enthralling power this had on my sexually confused brain?
In high school, I got bolder. I was an avid fan of the B-52s, the notoriously gay party band from the Athens, Georgia music underground that billed itself as the "World's Greatest Party Band." To me, they were. I bought every CD I could get my hands on. Almost every Taco Bell paycheck went to a B-52s CD in one of those clunky, anachronistic CD long boxes.
The B-52s made me lose my young queer mind. I would dance and groove and sing along anywhere I heard their music. At the time I was puzzled why more of their songs didn't make it on the radio, but going back through their albums today, I realize, that they aren't that great. Fred Schneider, the lead singer can't carry a tune. He's got a kind of gravelly voice that makes me think of Suzanne Pleshette or Bea Arthur. Plus, their music was kind of subversive. It was positively dripping with lots of sexual innuendo. They have a song titled "Dirty Back Road." Incidentally, I didn't put that together with gay sex until a few weeks ago when I saw the CD case in my rack. I like to think I was progressive, but I was more naive than even I had imagined.
Sometime when I was about 15, I saw the movie Heathers for the first of what would prove to be an innumerable number of times. The movie was vividly absurdist and surreal, but funny as all hell. At the end, Sly and the Family Stone covered Que Sera Sera, and did an amazing job. It became my all-time favorite song. To this day it retains that title, in spite of 17 years of music inundating me from all conceivable media. The song was so utterly perfect because it sounded like an utter mess. In the slick world of the late 80s and early 90s music, the blues, funk and rhythm fused in my brain to turn me into a musical adult.
About the time I discovered Sly and the Family Stone, I stopped listening to Christian pop. I loathed the concept of it, for one thing. Even now, perhaps especially now I don't think it is in any way beneficial to anyone to package the message of gospel in mass-market crap music.
I went away to college and started listening to college type music. I got into Ben Folds Five, the Indigo Girls, Cake, Guster and Jimmy Buffett, just about everything. I got into dance music a little bit also, being that I did start going to gay bars and getting my dance groove on for real.
Now I feel sometimes that I have lost that musical feeling. In a world dominated by personalized access to music, I feel that we need more people willing to go out there and perform music, rather than just consume it. I think I would like to learn how to play an instrument. I only ever learned how to play the snare drum. The piano didn't really stick for some reason. I think playing music, as well as singing and dancing connect us to something larger than ourselves. I think this larger art is something the world needs more of.
Maybe I can gather up the Kindergarten gang and reform the Hot Buns. The band name carries a lot more irony now than it did in 1983. I imagine that our first number one hit will be a cover of the B-52s classic "Dirty Back Road."
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