something i'm looking forward too

if you can dream it, you can be it

Godfrey Bey Sanchez

My nephew is freakishly cute, and has very interesting taste in music. He can impress you by singing "Lento" by Julieta, "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls, he calls "How To Save A Life" cuidado because it actually fits in the chorus, and it sure does make sense. Maybe it's the easy lyrics, but he adores "Lips of an Angel" by Hinder . . . . that being said, my sister discovered he also likes John Legend. It's pretty much any good song he has to hear my sister play while he rides in the back . . . here's me coaxing a performance out of him . . .

ha ha ha, bless your soul

you CAN NOT beat a cover featuring a THEREMIN. There is no way. Don't try it. Unless you use and ONDES MARTENOT. And I know no one reading this knows what either of these things are without consulting wikipedia. I remember when I lost my mind . . .

ciao!

i refuse to say ciao. I won't do it. I think it's gay. just cause you're from reynosa does NOT make you italian. ciao stinks. ciao is a republican's face looking at cindy sheehan. ciao is mood rings. ciao is how anna nicole smells right now. ciao is ugly. ciao lack couth. ciao is kracken. ciao spooks me out. ciao is gangsta rap. ciao is lil' kim's pasty. ciao is an avocado empanada. ciao shows no mercy. ciao is silk stalkings on USA network. chuck norris hates ciao. ciao is what dogs eat, and dogs eat poop. ciao is curdled breat milk yogurt. ciao is water buffalo b.o. ciao is feline leukemia. if you say ciao to me, i might go off on you bjork-style. ciao hurts. ciao stings. ciao is the opposite of krispy kreme donuts. FRESH krispy kreme donuts. ciao is racist. ciao is sexist. ciao is aushwitz. ciao is shining path. ciao is pol pot. hitler said ciao. un deux ciao. ciao is pg-13. ciao doesn't remember your name. ciao is arrogant. ciao is fallible. ciao is cruel to animals. ciao is fur is murder. ciao is partial birth abortion. ciao is sheperd's pie. ciao doesn't call you back. ciao leaves before you wake up and takes that last twenty from your wallet. ciao is erectile disfunction. ciao is that blue line of poop on the back of a shrimp you half to eat in a shrimp cocktail. ciao cries. ciao made andrea bocelli blind. it's time to say goodbye to ciao.

my thoughts of you are leaving . .

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back in business - part deux

So this in honor of Mel's return to the blog, who might just be the only reader of my blog :) and I do mean that smile in a nice way, not a snarky way . . .
Anyways, she's back and I wanted to post "Back in Business" from the movie Dick Tracy with Madonna and Warren Beatty. It was silly fun, pre-"Chicago", and I was a gay little 4th grader, worshipping my "I'm Breathless" Madonna inspired-by soundtrack. It had a trampy little song about S&M that I thought was so titillating as a youth, as well as all kinda campy tracks, and three gorgeous tracks written by Sondheim, who I wouldn't get to know till Bravo turned me into a big mary sissy fag in high school and I'd watch musicals all during the month of June in honor of gay pride month.
There was one long, hot summer where I watched so many "pink" films and tv shows, that truly shaped the person that I am now. I watched every episode of Twin Peaks on Bravo AND Melrose Place on E!, I sobbed at the hiv tragedy Longtime Companion, loaded up on musicals (Godspell, Pippin, Sunday in the Park with George, Sweeney Todd, Jesus Christ Superstar, all the Rodgers and Hammerstein I could rent, West Side Story, Into the Woods(!), Camelot) Prick Up Your Ears!, My Beautiful Laundrette, The Piano, oh the Merchant-Ivory sumptuousness of Maurice . . . I raided the library for D.H. Lawrence for it's latent homoeroticism, I trolled the Sexuality section of the new Hastings in our mall to peek at "The New Joy of Gay Sex" and discovered my nipples were sensitive, I uncovered Pansy Division, found porn on the Internet (of all places!) I started "getting into" 8os music, especially all that ultra-fem and oh-so-fab New Wave . . . . I wish I woulda just come out back then, instead of delaying it for so long . . . but, it was a different time and a very different place. Anyways, back to Sondheim . . . .
That old grey girl can sure write some tunes that stab you in the heart. Inside the Actors Studio had him on its' inaugural season, before it became such an SNL gag (and really, c'mon, Jennifer Lopez? please, girl can dance and shake her ass, but acting? and teaching anyone anything about acting?) Anyways, they had a couple sing some of his signature songs ('Barcelona' ahhh), but it was only later I'd discover a few that just, *sigh, can't be ignored.

"Being Alive"
The current production of Company, starring Raul Esparza, is particularly "relevant" in that the lead actor /closet case is actually gay in real life, so the fact that he hasn't met the right woman, or "person" cuts to the heart of Sondheim, the composer and lyricist. It's hard not to turn it into a showstopper, it begs and demands and shouts itself into the theater . . . witness, children

Being Alive - Patti LuPone



I always wondered why the mom from Life Goes On was such a great singer on the show . . . woman is famazing, fantestical, but that hair is NOT electrocute. No, m'am!


I just tossed this in cause I remember watching a lot of figure skating back then, and c'mon, the Yamaguchi was a fucking bad-ass!

"I'm Still Here" - Yvonne De Carlo



you gotta love a dame in a tunic . . . and you can't sing this if you're not an old broad with a pack-a-day habit and a story to tell.

"Johanna" - Hugh Panaro (I wanna call him Huge Canary)



i dunno about the package, but what a great voice and some good acting, and fuck, the tune Johanna gets my goat everytime . . . . i feel you . . .. . one day, I'll STEAL you .. .. . mercy

Songs from the Big Chair

as the days pass, longer and longer as the summer stays just out of grasp, i return to the songs of my youth. this song came back into my life a few years ago but I still cannot (or refuse to) shake it from my subconcious. When Orzabal shouts "men of stone!", when Oleta sweetens and covalesces with that harmony that is neither high nor low, just blends in . . . when the faux flutes at the beginning begin the haunting, twisting eighth note ostinato, when the cute bass player with my hair cut frowns at the camera . . . it's all too much, mini-soap opera in 5 minutes that could be taking place next door or in any west european hovel . . . .Oleta, who just seers into 'Get Here' which i tagged under the video, really makes this song, such an evocative power ballad from a group famous for power ballads (Sowing the Seeds of Love (piccolo trumpet!), Shout, Head over Heels, and the 8os song to end all 8os songs, Everybody Wants to Rule the World, all of which I'll probably remark on soon) Sometimes I hear a song that I can't say I know, but when I hear it, I know, I've heard it, it's in my head and I know the words. When I was young I used to leave the radio on at night, and I think I know a lot of music because of that. I know my mind shuts down and my hearing cuts out, but if that actually worked, I think I'm proof.

I adore the line, cross the desert like an Arab man . . .

I'm talking to you, hello?

yeah, uhm, yeah this is like, most of my friends . . . .