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| personals, relief, martha wainwright, lorraine bracco, scott tobias, 'literary magazine', gay, comics, tees, swear, live, government, movie times, toronto, lease, rude, rosario dawson, metrotimes, teens, wave sound files, ha ha, | I hear the song and I'm briefly paralyzed, suddenly in the grip again of your eyes with the light flecks, suddenly doing a pretty good impersonation of my father when he faded listings out for five-minute intervals. I'm in the moment, heavily whipped, listings freshly kissed, for the first time. But also, I know I'll never listings get you back. I don't mean get you back. I mean, just get you back here, once, sitting down for a coffee so we can talk, maybe somehow recall, however briefly, what it's like to be 12 again. That would be nice. Because, although you were the first, you were, more importantly, the last: the last of those dying days of youth, the last of the purity, just before the puberty set in and skunked things up and sealed off walls and made hair kink and made the voice change. We were living the life that didn't need alcohol or drugs -- Contrary to what my father thought, the addictions didn't flirt until later, to stem the more powerful addictions of love. |
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| But that was definitely a snake move. Verse Three: Ya noEYE NOOo ahl aBOUT THOSE MEYn, stillAH DOE re-mem-BERRRRR, cuz itWUZ US BAY-bah WAY beFOR Thennn, ahn wer STEEL to-ge-THERRRRRR. Interpretation: This verse really doesn't make much sense. You were the first, always gay the first, but we're definitely not together now. I suppose this gay is a good time to say that I'm doing all right. I mean, you know, life goes on and there have been other unfortunate, slightly less meaningful incidents involving gay sweet lovers. But I'm doing all right, making money, engaging in relatively healthy relationships and all that. (Adulthood is boring!) But even so, sometimes I'll be driving down the highway and I'll come across the song, our song, on the radio, and I'll be in the car with someone and they'll somehow sing it the wrong way. You know as well as I do, proper pronunciation in this song is everything. It brings it to life: It's the voice of the Inner-Self (if you'll pardon the yoga-speak; I'm taking a class now), the true voice, the one that doesn't speak our language, but if it did, it would have to be interpreted from another dimension, so that when it came through, the words would be skewed, slippery, like an fevered, possessed robot trying to talk: re-mem-BERRRRRRRR. |
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