Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

29
November
2010
Tags: Madonna
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #16 ~ ‘Isaac’ – Winter 2006

Staring up into the heavens,
In this hell that binds your hands,
Will you sacrifice your comfort,
Make your way in a foreign land?

It’s fitting that the iPod should select ‘Isaac’ from 2005’s ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor’ album, as it was released almost exactly five years ago. While never a single, ‘Isaac’ was one of the more challenging, and enjoyable, tracks from the record, named after the guy who also sang on it (and joined Madonna on her Confessions Tour). I love how Madonna can do such an adventurous yet danceable track like this and incorporate some rather deep and dark lyrics.

Wrestle with your darkness,
Angels call your name,
Can you hear what they are saying?
Will you ever be the same?

For all the frothy non-stop dance-party fun the Confessions album was supposed to be, this track is a pleasant reminder that even when she’s getting down, Madonna can still get deep.

Open up my heart,
Cause my lips to speak,
Bring the heaven and the stars
Down to earth for me.

As for her performance of the song on the Confessions Tour, well, just show me one other entertainer out there who could do this, and try to tell me you’re not impressed.

Wrestle with your darkness,
Angels call your name,
Can you hear what they are saying?
Will you ever be the same?
Song #16: ‘Isaac’ – Winter 2006
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24
November
2010
Tags: Gay
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A Gay Parade

Watching the Thanksgiving parade (which I usually do not do) I am reminded of the funniest gay stereotype I ever heard. I was working at the Rotterdam Structure for the summer, and a new co-worker who made The Situation from the Jersey Shore look like a classy gentleman had just joined our retail ranks. (I’m just talking about his overly-tanned appearance and penchant for excessive hair gel in his frosted up-do – he was actually quite a nice guy.)

Apparently he only knew one other gay person in his life – his Uncle – so he was curious about me. I never have a problem with that – in fact, it’s admirable when people want to learn more, and I’ve never dismissed or denigrated earnest questions from those who have an open mind and are willing to expand their knowledge.

Anyway, we were talking and out of the blue he asked whether I liked parades. It was a perplexing question, and I told him no, not particularly, then I asked him where that came from. He said his gay uncle always liked to watch parades so he thought that’s what gay people did. I busted out laughing.

As for the parade on television right now, I only hope that the poor flag girl who dropped her baton in front of all of America didn’t just ruin her life forever.

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23
November
2010
Tags: General, Madonna, Music
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #15 ~ ‘Nobody Knows Me’

{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.}

I’ve had so many lives since I was a child,
And I realize how many times I’ve died…

The iPod bops along to Madonna’s incendiary ‘American Life’ album from 2003, shuffling over to ‘Nobody Knows Me’, a blippy, vocally-distorted stop/start stilted jolt of a song with a neat little funk-out. I think this will be perhaps best remembered for Madonna’s performance/lip-syncing of it on her Reinvention Tour (summer of 2004), when she strutted across a conveyor belt, doing some crazy-fun half-moon arm gestures.

After seeing the show in NYC, I remember marching along Broadway to my hotel with this song in my head, feeling solidly empowered and like I could take on the world. That’s the best thing about some of Madonna’s songs – they pump you up to the point that you don’t care who is staring at you as you dance (or trip) your way down Broadway.

This is, in my opinion, the only real ‘dance’ song on American Life (prior to remixes), and one of the few ‘lighter’ selections from that brilliantly dark album – in other words, it’s not indicative or representative of the rest of songs, but it is definitely a stand-out track, perhaps because of that.

The big disappointment in the concert version (as seen below), is that Madonna takes out the best part of the song – the quasi-bridge break-down:

I don’t want no lies!
I don’t watch TV!
I don’t waste my time!
Won’t read a magazine…

I’m not that kind of guy
Sometimes I feel shy…
Song #15: ‘Nobody Knows Me’ – Summer 2004
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17
November
2010
Tags: General, Madonna, Music
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #14 – ‘Frozen’ ~ Winter 1998

{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.}

 
You only see what your eyes want to see,
How can life be what you want it to be?
You’re frozen when your heart’s not open…

I had been hoping that the iPod would not choose this song for a while, as it’s one of the most emotional Madonna songs for me – the kind that perfectly aligns with a momentous time in one’s life, that both illuminates and shades that time, becoming a mini-anthem, dirge-like or not, and I cannot hear the song without being somewhat affected and reminded of that moment in my life.

You’re so consumed with how much you get,
You waste your time with hate and regret,
You’re broken when your heart’s not open…

It was the winter of 1998 – January – and I was living in Boston but searching, as always, for a break from where I was. Upstate, friends awaited me in Rochester, New York – and I headed there for a few days of carefree fun to dispel the wickedness of winter. We headed to a club for drinks and dancing, and in the darkness between the flashing lights, I saw him for the first time. A cute guy in overalls and a baseball cap – and a smile that was somehow, and unfathomably, meant for me.

My friend Gina went up to him and introduced us, much to my embarrassment, but he was nice and we talked. I’m not going to lie – when you’re 22 and single, every first meeting carries with it the possibility of being the first time you meet ‘the one’. (When you’re 35 and married, you realize that’s not how life really works.)

He must have known that then, but I did not. We went our own ways at the club for a while, but found our way back together at the end of the night. He wrote his name and number on a cocktail napkin and told me to call him the next day.

I was staying at Gina’s apartment, and when we got home she told me that he was a chef at a new restaurant. The next day we made reservations for dinner there, and he invited us into the kitchen to say hello. We agreed to meet up after his shift.

If I could melt your heart…
We’d never be apart…
Give yourself to me…
You hold the key.

The intervening time between dinner and meeting him is a blur, as is much of those few days. I remember being incredibly nervous until I saw him, as if I could never quite believe he was real, and whenever he was absent (which was most of the time), I felt panicked and desperate and almost manically hopeful. (Attractive traits all around.) I hid this as best as I could. There would be no crazy letters of self-saving ultimatum (not yet anyway – they would come later), and in those first few days I was free to imagine that this was the start of a great romance. That night it certainly felt so.

We went to the Avenue Pub – a local haunt less keen on style and more concerned with cheap, strong drinks. We sat at the bar and I met a few of his friends. At one point his hand rested on my knee – a sign of affection or camaraderie, I wouldn’t ever know – and though I usually cringed at being touched, with him it was all right, it was endearing, and it made me feel like I might be loved. Such a simple gesture, I don’t know how I could allow myself to believe it was so fraught with import, but there you have it. My state of mind. His casual carelessness. Our mutual desire.

Now there’s no point in placing the blame,
And you should know I suffer the same,
If I lose you, my heart will be broken…

I followed him back to his place, a rather lengthy drive through the cold winter darkness. In the dim light of a night that was suddenly filled with falling snow, we kissed and undressed. Shades of silver and gray swam among wrinkled sheets. It was warm next to him, and it was one of the only times I fell asleep without unease next to a man. What followed would do that to me. Not through any act of deliberate cruelty on his part, but in the absence of returned love – the debilitating draining that inevitably befalls unreturned affection.

In the early morning light, a layer of white snow covered the waking world. He got up to take the dogs out. I asked, jokingly, if he was going to wipe the snow off my car. He grinned before closing the door behind him. I dressed quickly in the dark chill of that morning, my body knowing even then that I needed to leave. When he returned, he asked me to stay, but I couldn’t tell if he meant it. Outside, I made the discovery that he had brushed the snow off my car.

For the rest of my stay I will call him daily, to see if he wants to meet up. He will hedge, say yes, then cancel at the last minute. I will sit, showered and dressed, in Gina’s apartment, for the next two nights – even extending my trip with the hope that he would be able to make it, and then when I absolutely had to return to work I made the solitary drive home.

Love is a bird, she needs to fly,
Let all the hurt inside of you die,
You’re broken when your heart’s not open…

Once back in Boston, I had a few phone conversations with him in which he explained that he would have liked to see me, but he just couldn’t schedule it with his busy work week. I understood, and mentioned I would be back in Rochester in a few weeks, so perhaps we could meet then. He agreed, and like a fool I believed, and returned – by bus to Amsterdam, then with my parents’ car to Rochester.

It’s strange, and a little embarrassing, to look back at my actions then, but whenever a sense of shame sneaks over me, I remind myself that I didn’t know any better. I didn’t understand that there were romantic rules of attraction, and to go against these rules meant certain ruin. If I liked someone, I let them know it. I didn’t wait three days to call, or act unavailable. If I was smitten, I didn’t hide it, and if I wanted to see someone, well, I drove six hours to see them.

Like most of the men in my life, I loved him – or thought I loved him – more than he would ever love me. As I get older, it sounds sillier and sillier for someone to say, but at that moment, in that time of my life, it was anything but silly.

On my second, third… fourth trip there, he didn’t even bother to return my calls. I sat in the car and cried, wrenching tears from a writhing shell of a body. In a rare moment of desperation, I called my Mom and simply told her that things weren’t going well. I didn’t give specifics, I just needed to hear her voice.

It was winter, and Madonna was gearing up to release her ‘Ray of Light’ album, leading off with the single ‘Frozen’. The snow fell around me as I returned to my parents’ home, and I shoveled the driveway to keep from going crazy. Walking off into the backyard forest one night, I laid down on the frozen ground, letting the snowflakes tickle and melt upon my face. On a still winter’s night, you can hear them fall – tiny pings and rustling crystals – and if you wait long enough you can join in their frozen mass. I did not wait that night.

If I could melt your heart…
We’d never be apart…
Give yourself to me…
You hold the key.

There would be more tears, and more pain, and more feelings of doubt and insecurity, and always the wondering as to my own worth. I could gain the attention and enthrallment of any number of people – yet the ones I loved the most couldn’t be bothered to love me back. It would be the conundrum that informs my life to this day.

You only see what your eyes want to see,
How can life be what you want it to be?
You’re frozen when your heart’s not open…

As for the song itself, ‘Frozen’ marked Madonna’s masterful move into electronica, by way of Morocco. With its sweepingly majestic Middle Eastern strings and barren drum programming, it melded an icy chill with desert heat – exemplified by a Goth-like video shot in the desert night. The first time I heard it was on one of those obsessive trips to Rochester. Sitting in Gina’s sad little apartment waiting for him to call, I watched as the video came on MTV – and in the tradition of ‘Like A Prayer’, the first time I heard it I didn’t like it immediately. Soon enough, it was one of my favorites – the crux of yearning and learning, obsession and lonely resignation.

If I could melt your heart…
Song #14: ‘Frozen’ ~ Winter 1998
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17
November
2010
Tags: Shirtless Male Celebrities
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Matthew Morrison – Gleefully Shirtless

Here is Matthew Morrison’s shaved chest in the new issue of Details. You know what? I’m not even going to get into the usual chest-hair diatribe because it’s been said over and over about the likes of Stephen Dorff and Chris Evans, so just add Mr. Morrison to that list. What is it about being on the cover of a magazine that makes men feel like they need to shave their chests? Oh well, Mr. Morrison makes up for it in other ways, with the dulcet tones of his voice for prime example. 

Let this be a holding space until he gets a proper Hunk of the Day honor. That day will come with a nude scene. Hint hint…

“I don’t trust a man with curly hair. I can’t help picturing small birds laying sulfurous eggs in there, and I find it disgusting.” – Sue Sylvester

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16
November
2010
Tags: General
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Declaration of Frightened Independence

Up until the last year or so, I’ve never much minded the fact that Andy and I won’t have any children, adopted or otherwise. It’s not a secret that I’ve never been a big fan of the babies and kids, though with the recent addition of a niece and nephew that stance has certainly softened (and I’m still waiting for my brother to take me up on my earnest offer to babysit). At this point, most of my friends have had kids – and Suzie is already due for another one (in April). And again, none of it really bothers me.

First off, Andy and I are in no financial position to support a child. Second, neither of us has a lifestyle that is particularly suited for raising children – I would not do well being housebound for too long. Third, the adoption process for a gay couple is, from all that I’ve heard, a serious and sometimes difficult commitment that can take years to go through. And finally (and most importantly) I don’t know if I would want to bring a child into this world – or at least be responsible for a child in this world.

As I said before, it’s never bothered me. And if Andy really wanted a baby, I’d be willing to go through all of it, and probably end up being a pretty decent Dad too. (You don’t get to see my sensitive side, so you have a skewed view.) But the reality is, children are likely not in our future.

I haven’t thought about it much until recently. There will come a time when Andy and I will be old, and the only people we would have to take care of us will be each other. It’s hopefully a long way off, but it will happen no matter what. And being that Andy is a number of years older than me, it’s probably going to be me alone for at least a few years. Completely alone.

It’s a prospect that never really scared me until now, and in all honesty I can usually put it from my mind, but when the holidays creep around I am reminded that most people will have someone to look after them as they age. This is just one more thing that Andy and I will have to do on our own. And sometimes… it’s a little daunting.

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13
November
2010
Tags: General
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Xmas Gift List

No, not mine, believe it or not (I haven’t had time to get it laminated just yet). Right now I’m actually thinking of other people, and though I say the exact same thing every year to no different denouement, this time I’m doing my shopping early and mostly online so I can just relax and enjoy the season. I swear.

Being that we’re all in the poor house these days, I’ve decided to make a few gifts, much like I did as a kid, minus the sloppy execution and visible glue. I still remember one of the simplest, and most fun, gifts I ever made my Mom (though I doubt she does). It was one of those classic lined notebooks with the black mottled covers - completely non-descript on the outside (a travesty I would never forgive today, I don’t care how old anyone is) – and I was determined to fill it with little essays.

I started writing in it in November – and each day I wrote a  few sentences on a random topic (three-bean-salad, trees, yarn) like our third grade English teacher was having us do (the three-bean-salad was her topic of the day – I didn’t even know what it was so I faked hating it). Yes, this was the kind of crazy fun kid I was – getting off on a third-grade English assignment and turning it into a gift idea for my Mom.

For some strange reason, I hid the book under her bed so she wouldn’t find it. (?!?!) I figured it would be the last place she would look for a present from me – and I guess there’s a strange sort of logic to that, because to my knowledge she never did find it (or, and this is much more likely, she found it and simply didn’t say anything). I think I managed to fill about a quarter of the book with ramblings-on about coffee, colors, flowers, keys, and anything that drifted into the insane quagmire of my third-grade head, and by Christmas morning it was wrapped and under the tree.

While I don’t clearly recall her reaction to such a gift (I’m sure it was dutifully grateful, and I was probably too excited with my own gifts to notice (is that the stuffed unicorn I’ve been begging for?!) but I distinctly recall making the book for her, and hoping she would like it. This year, I’ll be doing the same thing (but don’t worry Mom, it’s not a book).

The bottom line is that this year the gifts are hand-made, so don’t expect much (even though my gluing skills have advanced markedly since the third grade.)

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12
November
2010
Tags: General, Madonna, Music
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #13 – ‘Forbidden Love’

{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.}

Once upon a time there was a boy and there was a girl…

Am I the only one who remembers that Madonna had a song called ‘Forbidden Love’ on her 1994 album Bedtime Stories that predates this ‘Forbidden Love’ from her Confessions on a Dance Floor album over ten years later? Regardless of the recycling, the iPod has chosen this ‘Forbidden Love’, and though I have no clear-cut memories of this particular bit of passable-filler, it’s always functioned adequately as a segue into ‘Jump’.

The title is probably the most exciting part of the song, though Madonna does no in-depth follow-through for her gay fans, playing it Romeo-and-Juliet straight. As for the music, this is one of the slower songs from the non-stop action of the Confessions album, reminiscent of some Scissor Sisters work of the same time. Madonna performed the tune admirably on Madonna’s Confessions Tour (right after she climbed down from her mirror-ball cross), but I’m guessing we’ll never hear it again.

Just one kiss, just one touch, just one look, just one love…
Song #13: ‘Forbidden Love’ – 2006
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12
November
2010
Tags: Brandeis
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Dorm Room Scene

A dorm room at Brandeis. The month was November, the sky gray, and the air damp – the time of year when it might rain or snow at any moment, but can’t make up its mind. Dusk settles early after the changing of the clocks, and at the dinner hour it is already dark. The radiator by the window hisses, as tiny beads of water condense on the pane. In the room, the only light comes from the outside safety lamp and the sliver of hallway fluorescence beneath the door.

The question is whether to walk all the way across campus to Sherman Hall to eat a quick dinner, or to take a nap and vainly attempt an escape until it’s really night. So much of life is taken up with these in-between moments – the ticking of the clock before or after what you think really matters. The waiting for something to begin. Five and ten-minute chunks of time where the real stuff of life happens. (Like sitting next to my husband in the moments before a movie is about to begin, holding off on the popcorn or not, and reading silly movie trivia over and over.)

On this November night – the night I am remembering from college – there is one of those transitions of time, in which I debate what to do next, while the clock ticks away. My coat is already on, but I hesitate, leaning back against the desk and looking outside. In my head, I go through the evening of coursework that should be done, that needs to be done, that absolutely must be done.

Our days are filled with hundreds of little decisions that must be made, and the thought that any one of them could be the one that changes our lives is a daunting, sometimes crippling idea. I don’t get bogged down in the details, in the endless decision-shifting. Make a choice and make the best of it. We cannot dwell in the past – but sometimes, on certain November nights, the past returns, if for no other reason than to remind us that while waiting for something to happen we might miss what is already happening.

The pockets of time we throw away – alone in a dorm room, commuting to work, waiting for the doctor to see us – have their own dim beauty, while carrying their own little light. I remember that night at Brandeis whenever I feel time might be getting away, when I question whether my life is on auto-pilot, when I need the inspiration to live in the moment. To be fully aware, to be completely cognizant, to notice and take in all of what surrounds us – this is how to be present, how to be a part of something. And after everything, all we really want is to belong.

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09
November
2010
Tags: Ben Cohen, Bulge, Shirtless Male Celebrities, Underwear
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Ben Cohen – In All His Hairy Glory

Ben Cohen is my kind of man. Not too perfect, not too shaved, not too thin. And not too close to anyone’s idea of what they assume I would find attractive.

My taste in men has been largely non-traditional. Aside from the occasional moment of appreciation for the ubiquitous David Beckham bulge or butt, and the brief admiration of a shirtless Chris Evans or naked Jake Gyllenhaal, I just don’t find the usual torch-carriers of male beauty all that impressive.

George Clooney? Gross. Brad Pitt? Yawn. Tom Cruise? Ca-raaaazzzy.

Maybe it’s the way they’ve been built up or put on the cover of Vanity Fair all these years. There’s something about a hugely popular figure that everybody else thinks is gorgeous that makes me subconsciously seek out beauty of a different sort. It’s the same thing that happens when many male models make me yawn more than anything else. Perfection is tedious, it’s boring. And it’s not to be found outside of the photoshopped pages of magazines and fashion blogs.

[See, this is how manscaping should be done: a bit of trimming, then leave well enough alone.]

The guys I find most attractive are those who are more real, those with a bit of baggage around their midsection, or a less-than muscular build – the dorks and nerds. I prefer a real man with a healthy field of chest hair, or someone who’s got an extra pound or two, someone who’s lived life enjoying a couple of beers or carb-loaded pasta dishes. Twinks and muscle-heads need not apply. Take your waifish, your plucked, your oiled masses and leave them outside of my realm of desire. I’ll take a real man like my husband over such nonsense any day.

(And Ben Cohen, only because he’s straight and unavailable.)

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08
November
2010
Tags: General, Madonna, Music
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #12 – ‘Over and Over’

{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 doesn’t matter who you are,
It’s what you do that takes you far…

Funny that the iPod should choose ‘Over and Over’ at this time – one of my favorite bloggers, Amanda Talar, recently posted a FaceBook memory of Kids Incorporated – which I recall mostly for the fact that Martika sang this very song on the show.

My other memory of the song came a few years later, when Madonna released her non-stop dance remix collection, ‘You Can Dance’, in 1987. God, those synth drum machines sound so 80’s…  where are my neon day-glo leg-warmers? I won’t even mention the elaborate dance routines I worked out to this song’s seven-minute-plus dub version. (Have I embarrassed myself enough? Hey, it was the 80’s, and we all made a lot of mistakes back then.)

As an eleven-year-old boy, the lyrics meant less to me than the catchy hook and beats, but a bit of the sentiment must have gotten through, because as fragile and superficial as some would make me out to be, I’m pretty resilient – and I do get up again, over and over. Determination, ambition, hard work, inspiration, blood, sweat, and tears – I love that this song refuses to give up.

And here’s that exercise-inducing dub version – all seven-plus-minutes of it:

I’m not afraid to say I hear a different beat…
Song #12: ‘Over and Over’ – 1985/1987
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04
November
2010
Tags: Bulge, General, Gratuitous Nudity, Madonna, Music, Underwear
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #11 – ‘Justify My Love’

{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.}

I wanna kiss you in Paris,
I wanna hold your hand in Rome,
I wanna make love on a train… cross-country…

 

This came out in December of 1990, and as I was not yet a superfan, I don’t remember much about when the big brouhaha went down. The MTV ban, the Nightline premiere and interview, and video’s commercial release – missed it all. To be honest, I never much liked the song (where exactly is the song?) It seems more of a simple recitation of mildly erotic lyrics set to a mediocre percolating beat, with nary a glimpse of melody. I like songs that have a bit more substance to them.

Of course, ‘Justify’ was all about the video, and it remains a not-that-naughty bit of soft-porn, S&M-tinged pop art that looks rather quaint today. (And features the timelessly hot piece of ass known as Tony Ward, for which the term bubble-butt seems perfectly made.)

(Surely this post deserves a bit of the butt of the man who caught Madonna’s eye – an eye that sometimes favors body over face. It’s nice to see that Mr. Ward still fills out his briefs like nobody’s business.)

I do think the remixes of this song (one of the first times William Orbit worked on her stuff, I believe) are superior to the source material – and the one version I came to enjoy was her performance of the song on The Girlie Show Tour in 1993. (And only the end, when the actual singing began.)

Some have pointed to ‘Justify My Love’ as the seed that resulted in the Sex/Erotica debacle, and that may be true. Personally, I don’t care how sexy you get as long as you have a catchy tune to put it over – for me, ‘Justify’ wasn’t it.

Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another.

Song #11: ‘Justify My Love’ – December 1990

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30
October
2010
Tags: General, Madonna, Music
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #10 – ‘Sky Fits Heaven’

{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.}

Traveling down this road,
Watching the signs as I go,
I think I’ll follow the sun,
Isn’t everyone just traveling down their own road,
Watching the signs as they go,
I think I’ll follow my heart…

Finally! This is the first Madonna song that the iPod has chosen from her Ray of Light album – my favorite, and in many opinions the best, record she’s ever made. ‘Sky Fits Heaven’ is one of its stellar tracks – for the wondrous traveling images, and the metaphysical musings she proffers.

I can’t say that there is a definitive memory I have of listening to this song (though the whole Ray of Light time period was an emotional one) it’s a welcome reminder that we’re all on this journey, and it is the journey that matters.

This is also a great driving song if you have a long way to go – shifting (some might say jarring) changes in tone, time signature, and style keep it always interesting, while the glorious soaring chorus makes you feel like you’re taking flight, that anything is possible, and the road you’re on is the only road you’ll ever need.

Madonna gave a rousing aerial performance of this song on the Drowned World Tour in 2001 (see below) – where she flew around the stage in the kick-ass Geisha portion of the show. Yes, actual flying – because she can.

It’s a very good place to start.
Song #10: ‘Sky Fits Heaven’ – Spring 1998
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26
October
2010
Tags: General, Madonna, Music
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #9 – ‘Promise To Try’

{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.}

Keep your head held high, Ride like the wind,
Never look behind, Life isn’t fair,
That’s what you said, so I try not to care…

Before the specific memories of this song are expounded upon, a brief history of my relationship with Madonna – as fan and admirer – must be written first. The iPod has shuffled to ‘Promise To Try’, from 1989’s ‘Like A Prayer‘ album. It was a non-single, and to be completely honest, I must have skipped quickly past ‘Promise’ when I first heard the album. See, I wasn’t always the superfan I am today. In fact, the cassettes of ‘Like A Virgin‘ and ‘True Blue‘ both originally belonged to my brother. It’s true – I was more of a singles guy back then, and while Madonna is quite possibly the greatest singles artist there was and ever will be, I didn’t bother with her albums much. It’s strange to think of that – and it makes little sense, because hers were the only albums I ever learned inside and out, loving each song, filler or not. So when ‘Like A Prayer’ was released, it was the first full album of hers that I bought myself. And on first listen, I didn’t like it. Not only did I not like it, I was actually offended (scared) when I heard ‘Act of Contrition’. The whispered prayer opening, the blast of electric guitar, and the closing bit of blasphemy – it was all too much for this Catholic altar boy to take, and I thought for sure that God would punish me for even listening to it. Now here’s the bit that makes me sound a little crazy – even for me: so scared was I that God would not be happy with me even having the cassette in my house, I took it outside to the backyard, found a large rock, and was about to smash it to pieces. I lifted the rock over my head, ready to bring it down on the sad little cassette tape, but stopped. I cannot say why, or what prevented me from going through with it.

Maybe it was the memory of innocently dancing around the bedroom to her songs, or maybe I thought there was something holy in that tape itself, but I went back inside and pushed the tape to the very back of my desk drawer, and to the back of my mind.

A couple of hits later (‘Express Yourself’, ‘Vogue’) and I was ready to forgive, so when I heard her Blonde Ambition Tour was being broadcast on HBO, I asked my brother’s friend to record it for me. And it happened all over again – the performance of ‘Like A Prayer’ was just too much, and Catholic guilt and fear rushed to my head. I quickly taped over it.

{Moment of silence}

(Father, forgive me for I have sinned, it has been an eternity since my last confession, and this is my sin: I taped over my recording of Madonna’s only Blonde Ambition broadcast.)

Again, time passed, and a few hits later (I loved ‘I’m Breathless’ cause it was basically a Madonna showtunes album) I was back on board, but I didn’t become a superfan until I heard ‘Promise to Try’ in ‘Truth or Dare‘. To show you that I wasn’t a proper fan just yet, I had no idea what the song was, or where it might be found. (I actually asked for the ‘Truth or Dare‘ soundtrack at one record store.)

And then one night in the Fall of 1991, when insomnia was having its way with me again and adolescent angst was threatening to end my very existence, I thought maybe… just maybe… that song is here somewhere. I found the ‘Like A Prayer’ album and put it into my walkman (yes, walkman – it seems so long ago). I fast-forwarded through ‘Express Yourself’ (okay, I probably listened to some of it) – but I definitely fast-forwarded through ‘Love Song’, and almost all the way to the end of ‘Til Death Do Us Part‘, though I listened to its fade-out, and all of a sudden the piano chords that I knew so well from repeated rentals of ‘Truth or Dare’ rang out, in their entirety and without Madonna’s gravesite voice-over, and I was hearing the plaintive words of a little girl who missed her long-lost mother. In an instant I was a superfan – whose love and passion for all things Madonna would not waver for the next two-plus decades.

Back then, ‘Promise to Try’ became the theme for that lonely Autumn. Suzie had gone away to Denmark, and on every mix tape I made her (and there were many) I included this song at some point. I remember listening to it on my walkman as I raked piles of brown oak leaves in the forest behind our house. The air was bitter, the sky was gray, and I didn’t even want to be – but I listened to Madonna, and there was solace in her longing, hope in her loneliness, and inspiration in her strength.

A somewhat-comical side-note on this song: one of the lines almost made it as my yearbook quote, but wiser heads fortunately prevailed and I did not use one. (Though looking back at the Guns ‘N Roses and Tesla quotes of the time, mine would have held up far better.)

I fought to be so strong,
I guess you knew I was afraid,
You’d go away too…
Song #9: ‘Promise to Try’ – Fall 1991 
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24
October
2010
Tags: Theater, Travel
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A Broadway Ballet (And A Bear or Two)

It was a Russian weekend in New York City, as Andy and I took the train down to see the return of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake at the City Center. Hotel rooms are insanely priced these days, and even with the combined bidding wars of Priceline, Expedia, Hotwire, and Kayak, the best I could do was $275 for a night at the Essex House on Central Park South. It actually worked out for the best though, as the hotel was in close proximity to the theater.

The Essex wasn’t bad, and the flowers in the lobby were certainly nothing to sneeze at (unless you’re allergic to that sort of thing).

I wore the tree-of-life pendant that Andy got for me in Ogunquit this past summer. (I don’t know why this merits mention, other than for the photo below that I snapped in the bathroom, and the bartender at the Oak Room who complimented me on it.)

In keeping with the Russian theme, we had dinner reservations at the Russian Tea Room. I had eaten there many years ago with my parents, and the chicken kiev had been something to behold. They then shut down for a while, but re-opened, so we decided to try it (plus the online cocktail menu looked like heaven).

We probably should have stopped at the cocktails, because while dinner was passable, the prices were a bit on the ridiculous side. Also, after asking the wait-person for their smoothest Russian vodka (she recommended the Jewel Of Russia), I had a martini that was rather rocky going down.

The chicken kiev did still burst with butter, and the decor is as red-gold-and-green as ever, so we’ll leave it at that.

After dinner we walked around the block and looked in the windows of closed shops and galleries while waiting for show-time to approach.

Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake joins the small pantheon of shows that my husband and I have seen together on Broadway. It began with Wicked (and that original, incomparable pairing of Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel), and continued with Grey Gardens (and the uncanny and amazing Christine Ebersole), and now we have the return of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. On their own, these shows were each great – seeing them with someone I love just made them that much more special and memorable.

I still recall the early November night we saw Wicked when it first opened (yes, I wore green that first time, though I’m a pink girl at heart) as well as the bitter cold of January’s Grey Gardens with a dinner at Gallagher’s steakhouse (that included a warming Manhattan and a seat by the gargantuan wood stove).

Swan Lake itself was spectacular. I knew I would like it; I did not know that I would absolutely fall in love with it. Having seen the DVD of the production a number of years ago, I knew the gist and the gimmick – but to see it in person gives it a life that can never be reproduced on screen.

It’s basically a gay fantasy brought to thrilling, and disturbing, life. I can only imagine what my own life might have been like had I seen this production as a young boy. How different would my journey have been, and what would it have meant? I will never know. That it exists today is a blessing, and an unforgettable night of theater. Seeing two men dance together is just as potent and powerful now as when it first opened over a decade ago – mostly because I just don’t get to see that very often – and partly because the world hasn’t changed all that much. As the curtain came down on the crushing final scene, I did not want it to end.

But there will be other curtains, and other shows, and yes, Suzie, even other swan umbrellas, so have faith.

The next morning we headed out for a brief (Andy would say interminable) shopping excursion, and then it was time to depart (without the $100 hotel robe).

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