Ohmygoodness. David Bowie, Lou Reed, and Gail Ann Dorsey do “Queen Bitch.”
This is delightful for a lot of reasons, but what I really love about it is how everyone is smiling & giggling in this kind of dorky, goofball way. They are so obviously just having an awesome time.
When I feel good, I’m so free.
The summer you left, I went from being an adult with a bedtime and an alarm clock, an adult who ate three square meals a day, to falling asleep well after the sun rose, if I managed to fall asleep at all. I lost ten pounds in 6 weeks because I lost all interest in food unless I was stoned, and when I was stoned I mostly ate the chocolate cake, bourbon, & tiny wedges of exquisitely fancy cheese that friends set out in front of me. I subletted my apartment in San Francisco and I took a plane to Portland and I house-sat for kind strangers and I stayed on generous friends’ couches. It was ostensibly to work on my novel, but really it was because I couldn’t bear to be in the city where we’d fallen in love during the season in which we’d fallen in love when we weren’t together any more. Summer in San Francisco felt like The Greatest Hits Record of our failed relationship, an entire catalogue of This Time Last Year, oh, god, get me out, get me out, get me out!
I was so broke that summer, but I threw caution to the wind when I could. I couldn’t afford Lush or Sephora, so I went to the Fred Meyer by my Portland house-sit and bought a $6 sample assortment of bubble baths marketed to tween girls, bubble baths that were supposed to smell like vanilla cupcakes and Fudgecicles and raspberry truffles but that just smelled like soap and vague pink sugar. It didn’t so much matter. The packaging was pretty and they bubbled up like bubble bath should, big and frothy and shimmering. I listened to Lou Reed’s entire discography while soaking in the hottest water I could stand and shaping the white clouds of foam into piques and valleys. I placed Craigslist ads I had no real intention of following through on, just to try to remember, dimly, abstractly, what it felt like to have someone actually want to fuck me. I read Tales of the City and I cried. I watched Golden Girls and I cried. I masturbated and I cried. I read over emails you’d sent me, g-chat conversations we’d had when you were swoony about me, and I cried. I could hardly believe my body was capable of producing that much salt.
”
!!!
I’m guessing this is where the band got their name. How could I not know this?!
(via odofemi)
Folks, this is truly one of the coolest things I have ever seen. It’s an hour-long tribute to/mash-up of a bunch of (mostly early) David Bowie, set to a lovely queer trippy gender-bent romantical film of Bowies Chasing Bowies & Bowie on Bowie Action, with guest appearances by Iggy Pop & Lou Reed & tons more. I am admittedly biased because I am a nerd/slut for all things Bowie, but still. There is a plot arc that involves Freddie Mercury & “Under Pressure” and then it morphed into “Heroes” & the lovers by the Berlin Wall and, I am not kidding, I actually started crying. I don’t think a music video has ever *moved me to tears* before. So that is saying something.
Antony & Lou Reed (although this version seems to be like 99% Antony?), “Perfect Day.”
My EMOTIONS! MY EMOTIONS!
Also, I really want them to do a version of “Satellite of Love” together.
Does anybody else know & love Lou Reed’s album Ecstasy? It is one of his later ones, released in 2000 or so. I’ve been rediscovering it lately & really liking it.
It is funny. 80% of the songs are basically like “Yo, I’m Lou Reed, so I’m kind of a dick. But at least I’m an older & wiser dick now!”
Pix of the Symbolic Post-Break-Up Haircut. This was definitely necessary.
It was sort of The Best Haircut Experience Ever. My hairdresser was UH-MAY-ZING. I got him as a walk in off the street, so I feel especially blessed. I was walking around Cap Hill with Ivy, and we walked by Zero Zero, where I got a haircut last time I was in Seattle. I got a fine & affordable haircut the last time I was there, but nothing spectacular. And I was like “Dammit, I need a haircut ‘cause I’m getting shaggy, but I really especially need a post-break-up haircut.”
I ended up seeing a guy named Craig. Who was extraordinarily gay, extraordinarily garrulous, and, perhaps most importantly, an old queer punk with a rural Washington farm boy past. He had a collage up over his work station proclaiming “LOU REED SAVED MY LIFE.” When I saw that, I was like “Okay. The Break-Up Hair Gods have put me in good hands.”
He asked me what I wanted, and I said “I wanna go short but keep some of the length in the front. I just had a break-up, and this is the Symbolic Haircut — so feel free to be creative.” And of course he lit up.
He told me like 17 times that I have “The PERFECT neckline!” I don’t even know what that means? But it was nice to hear it. The whole time he kept repeating “I love how you’re not scared to go short! I love how you’re not scared of the razor! You have the RIGHT IDEA, you just cut that break-up right outta your hair!” He repeated the phrase “Cut it right outta yr hair!” so much that I half-way expected him to start singing the “Wash That Man Right Outta Your Hair” song, you know?
And then, he gave me $10 off the quoted price, turning a very reasonable salon haircut into a hella cheap salon haircut. I don’t know if I got the Break-Up Discount or the You Are Queer Discount or the I Got To Be Creative Discount. But it was a total delight.
Also? Points to him for clearly reading me as queer and bonding with me over queer punk things, but NOT assuming gender or pronouns regarding my ex. I’d said “break-up,” but I hadn’t mentioned a name or gender. And he kept saying “he or she” or “she or he” or “they.” Like, when the fuck does THAT ever happen, right?!
The very last minute & 18 seconds of “Satellite of Love.” The bit that is the piano & the hand-claps & the finger-snaps & the horns & then like 7 (or more?) different iterations of David Bowie’s voice ranging from falsetto to I-don’t-even-know-what-it’s-called layered over Lou Reed’s gravelly growl? Sometimes, I would just like to live in that 1 minute & 18 seconds of song. It is so perfect.
In which Vajra helps me pack. And I import pretty much all the music I loved in high school onto my computer for the purposes of having easy reference material for The Record. And re-listen to Songs for Drella for the first time since I was, what, 15? And am like “Whoa, DAYUM, y’all.”
See you tomorrow, Portland.
Oh, sing it, Lou.
Both the employee review and catamite sum up my feels about LULU better than I could.
Also, I will probs get LULU out from the library, because I am
a) still very much a Lou Reed fan, even after all this time. His music touched something in me when I was 14 and it still touches me every time I listen to it, you know?
b) writing a lot lately about LR’s influence on me as a raggamuffin queer punk teenager, and
c) a completist.
But Real Talk, I would not actually pay $23 for that shit. I do have SOME standards.
See also, I am still waiting for him & Laurie Anderson to do a whole album together, as opposed to just a song here or there over the years. I love Laurie Anderson even more than I love Lou Reed, and their collaborations thus far have all been really cool!
oh dear lord, why, Lou? why?
I don’t care. If you are Lou Reed you are basically allowed to do terrible shit sometimes because you are Lou Reed and you already won forever.
1. Today is a day for listening to “Transformer,” drinkin’ Philz, & whittling down my To-Do list.
2. Speaking of “Transformer,” I think this line from “Andy’s Chest” is just the sweetest line about love ever & it always makes me coo when I hear it (I like it even more than “Perfect Day,” and I like “Perfect Day” a lot): “If I could be anything in the world that flew, I would be a bat & come swooping after you.” Like, AWWW! Scruffy, angry, leather-wearing, raccoon-eyeliner-rocking, miscellaneous-drugs-doing, by-all-reports-a-TOTAL-DICK, 70s Lou Reed, who knew you were SO ROMANTICAL?