Back in 1989, it was more of a wish to go back in time just a couple of months, to the start of the summer – the summer before high school, when everything would change.
If I could turn back time If I could find a way I’d take back those words that have hurt you And you’d stay
I don’t know why I did the things I did I don’t know why I said the things I said Pride’s like a knife, it can cut deep inside Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes
I didn’t really mean to hurt you I didn’t wanna see you go I know I made you cry, but baby
If I could turn back time If I could find a way I’d take back those words that have hurt you and you’d stay If I could reach the stars, I’d give ’em all to you Then you’d love me, love me like you used to do (If I could turn back time)
Cher’s video for this single caused an uproar worthy of Madonna’s typical fare at the time. (See ‘Like A Prayer‘ or ‘Express Yourself’.) I happened to love it – the outfit, the big-ass boat canons, and the sailors – all those excited sailors… I’d lose my gay virginity to a sailor many years later on the Mississippi River, but that’s a story that doesn’t need to be retold right now.
My world was shattered, I was torn apart Like someone took a knife and drove it deep in my heart When you walked out that door, I swore that I didn’t care But I lost every thing, darlin’, then and there
Too strong to tell you I was sorry Too proud to tell you I was wrong I know that I was blind, and darlin’
If I could turn back time If I could find a way I’d take back those words that have hurt you and you’d stay If I could reach the stars, I’d give ’em all to you Then you’d love me, love me like you used to do, ohh
If I could turn back time (if I could turn back time) If I could turn back time (if I could turn back time) If I could turn back time, oh, baby
Glamour, grit, genius, and grace are sometimes not enough to stop the tragedy that an artist will occasionally bring upon themselves. We court extremes – love and hate, happiness and sorrow, life and death – and there is little room for calm when there is no peaceful midpoint.
Easy living? The stuff of dreams…
Living for you is easy living It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love There’s nothing in life but you
I never regret the years I’m giving They’re easy to give when you’re in love I’m happy to do whatever I do for you
For you, maybe I’m a fool But it’s fun People say you rule me with one Wave of your hand Darling, it’s grand They just don’t understand
Living for you is easy living It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love There’s nothing in life but you
Careening toward the darker final section of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, this entry finds a brief respite of glamour and sparkle, courtesy of bugle beads and sequins, and a backing track from the musical ‘Applause!’ Hit it…
I’m not at all mad about the fact that the release of a new Taylor Swift album has become the world-shaking event that a new Madonna album used to be. Considering that Taylor has released about four albums – one a full-on double – in the time since Madonna’s last album, along with several re-recorded Taylor’s Version reprises, she earns the accolades. On October 3, the next era of Ms. Swift begins, with the release of ‘The Life of a Showgirl’. I’m already hooked, thanks to its fertile visual possibilities, the orange and turquoise aesthetic, and the glitzy promise of some Max Martin bangers.
While we eagerly await the first single and whatever musical breadcrumbs she will be dropping for us to follow, here’s a list of some previous notable blog posts featuring Ms. Swift:
One of the great summer songs that has dominated many a sunny season for me is ‘No Woman, No Cry’. Aside from its unheralded and likely-unintended reading as a gay male anthem (no woman, no cry – get it?) it carries the great message that “everything’s gonna be all right” like a meditative mantra – the ideal attitude for such troubling times. My friend Chris introduced me to this one in the summer of 1997, when neither of us had a woman or a real reason to cry, but it didn’t stop us from feeling all the things a 22-year-old could feel.
Looking back, I realize how lucky we were, and what a quaint time it was – not only in our specific lives, but in the world as a whole. We had only just begun exploring and living on our own – everything felt so much more profound and powerful than it would ever feel again. Thankfully, part of me knew that, and I understood on some level that those days would become the best days as life advanced and responsibilities shifted.
Our island summer is quickly dwindling – the first week of August has already come and gone – and the days are only growing shorter. (We recently passed the last day that the sun will set after 8 PM – that won’t happen again until next May – a depressingly long time from now.) I don’t want to use the ‘F’ word, but fall is indeed right around the corner. For now, let’s slow things down as much as we can. The weather looks to be hot and sunny in the days ahead – I will take that as my cue to continue the idea and attitude of island living, and remain remote and distant from all the real cares of the world. There will be time enough to address them when the wind changes…
Expanding upon the musical renaissance that began with ‘Take My Bow’, Jim Verraros releases an EP of new music that fans have been salivating for since ‘Take My Bow’ and ‘Pyramid‘ brought him so spectacularly back to the musical scene. ‘Explicit’ looks to skyrocket on that cheeky dance-floor trajectory, with a few sizzling remixes, as well as several brand new songs. As Verraros continues to edge us with these glorious drip-release burners, the hope for a full-length album still burns brightly – for now, ‘Explicit’ gives us fans something substantial to swallow until that dream comes to fruition.
The most hilarious entry of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale is at hand – at least the most hilarious in my estimation – and it comes just when we need to laugh. You may have found humor in other entries, but this one speaks hilarity and social commentary on a multitude of levels. It was my tribute to the frazzled homemaker trope, a role I’d semi-jokingly taken on with a previous boyfriend, and one that I tried to imbue with comical accents. So much of what I did back then was lugubriously earnest – this was a silly breath of fresh air, and a totally different type of diva.
I feel pretty, Oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright, And I pity Any girl who isn’t me tonight.
Take note of the ironing accoutrements on hand: the standard bottle of Niagara spray starch for authenticity. The can of Coors Light in the starch cap cozy. The bottle of Alize for class. And the crock of Cool Whip and bag of potato chips for the munchies.
I feel charming, Oh, so charming, It’s alarming how charming I feel, And so pretty That I hardly can believe I’m real.
Then there’s the intentionally-awful underwear in need of ironing.
See the pretty girl in that mirror there, Who can that attractive girl be? Such a pretty face, Such a pretty dress, Such a pretty smile, Such a pretty me!
Let’s not get into the hair, the shower cap, and the outfit…
I feel stunning And entrancing, Feel like running and dancing For joy, For I’m loved by a pretty wonderful boy!
And let’s definitely leave that make-up alone… for good and forever.
This is divinity of a different order: the divinity of laughter and ridiculousness.
A preamble to the next section of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, this may be a wild and wandering post that reeks of vanity and self-indulgence, making it perfectly apt for this particular project. Twenty years ago, that was certainly one of the stages I was at, and thirty years ago I was even further back on that stage, preening and posing for an audience that was both never really there, and somehow watching from afar.
There was a time When I was so broken-hearted Luck wasn’t much of a friend of mine The tables have turned, yeah ‘Cause me and them ways have parted That kind of love was the killin’ kind
Way back in the summer of 1993, Aerosmith released the song and video for ‘Crying’, which is probably my favorite Aerosmith tune (making me decidedly not one of their truer fans) and definitely my favorite Aerosmith video. In it, a pre-Cher-Clueless Alicia Silverstone and pre-stardom Stephen Dorff acted out the torturous tale of young love gone wrong.
While I was still involved in an innocent dating situation with a female friend (ahh, those 90’s) and had never had quite the dramatic rollercoaster those characters were on, there was something sillier and much smaller in the video that called to me from a deeper and more profound plane. At about the 2:25 mark, after her car breaks down, our heroine doffs the very 90’s floral dress she had on and changes into jeans and a white tank. It’s a quick and minor point, but it had a powerful effect on me.
So listen All I want is someone I can’t resist I know all I need to know by the way that I got kissed
That was what I wanted to achieve in my life: transformation. I wanted to shift images like a chameleon, changing into one creature from another, and always keeping the watchers guessing. Refusing to be pigeonholed into one definitive image or style, I would strive to shed my various selves with fashion, clothing, cologne, and creation – ever-evolving and never-stagnant. If I was unrecognizable from one look to the other, all the better. Mercurial and slippery – like its quicksilver namesake – I found it safer to hide behind a multitude of masks and poses, keeping the element of surprise as my chosen weapon. It would be impossible to pin me down – and if you can’t stop someone long enough to get a good shot in, you’re never quite able to capture – or kill – them. If Alicia Silverstone could get her heart stomped on at the start of her Hollywood reign, how the hell would I stand a chance?
I was cryin’ when I met you Now I’m tryin’ to forget you Love is sweet misery I was cryin’ just to get you Now I’m dyin’ ’cause I let you Do what you do down on me, yeah! Now there’s not even breathing room Between pleasure and pain Yeah, you cry when we’re making love Must be one and the same
I started simply enough, in mimicking fashion, bringing a change of clothes on every car ride I made in the event that I had cause to slip from some stuffy school outfit into something more casual. In the summer, it was a change of necessity, as I unbuttoned a stiff dress shirt and opened the windows to let the breeze surround me in an undershirt. In later years, I’d bring a change of clothes to work when I was going out to dinner, switching into something fanciful and extravagant from the dull trappings of J. Crew office attire.
It’s down on me Yeah, I got to tell you one thing That’s been on my mind, girl, I gotta say We’re partners in crime You got that certain somethin’ What you give to me takes my breath away
I would craft images to match whatever project I was releasing: a Ralph Lauren ‘Safari’-scented romantic look with black vests and frilly white poet sleeves for a ‘Love’ project ~ a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and bulky booted trade ensemble for the ‘diSenchAntMent’ work ~ or a frilly, feathery, boudoir-appropriate robe for the Divine Diva project you may reference below. All of it was in service to shedding my various selves and finding out what was underneath all the layers. I hid and obscured as much as I aimed to reveal, digging deeper in an insane attempt to get out of the hole I was making. I wish I’d seen and understood that earlier, but such was the journey I had to take.
Now the word out on the street Is the devil’s in your kiss If our love goes up in flames It’s a fire I can’t resist
These days, I don’t dive so deeply into my creative pursuits. I’ve learned to create a healthy distance from whatever project I’m exploring to the person I am in real life, easily separating whatever artistic flights I might fancy from my family and friends and husband. There is a definitive delineation that allows me to explore different themes here, in writing and photos, without danger of slipping into a persona that isn’t aligned with who I intrinsically am – even if facets do overlap and dovetail. Whenever something makes me uncomfortable, that’s a sign it’s something I need to explore.
‘Cause what you got inside Ain’t where your love should stay Yeah, our love, sweet love, ain’t love ‘Til you give your heart away
Which brings us to the present moment, and this look-back at The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale. It was at that time when I remember just starting to see and sense that separation between artist and artistic output, just beginning to feel the safety of that demarcation and distance. The ensuing two decades have shown that I still have much to learn, and that the work is something that never ends – not that I would ever want it to reach some sort of conclusion: the lovely and infuriating conundrum of learning that there will only ever be more to learn keeps me keen and eager for what’s next and what’s new.
The following step of 2005’s Divine Diva journey arrives with the next installment of this project, which ricochets from the feminine stylings of the previous entry to the more masculine stylings of our next entry… stay tuned.
I was cryin’ when I met you Now I’m tryin’ to forget you Your love is sweet misery I was cryin’ just to get you Now I’m dyin’ to let you Do what you do, what you do down to No, no, baby, baby, baby
While it was Mom who brought me to my first concert (Peter, Paul & Mary) it was my friend Ann who took me to my first rock concert – and it was an initiation by brilliant fire: Guns ‘N Roses at Saratoga Performing Arts Center right between their ‘Appetite For Destruction’ and ‘Use Your Illusion’ albums. In other words, it was lightning in a bottle (and in the liner notes for one of the ‘Illusion’ albums the band thanked the SPAC audience which was part of one of the cuts). It was an epic show, one that I heard perfectly fine even through the cotton I’d shoved in my ears (just in case). In reality, the volume was easy managed by the scrappy teenager I was; I’d been throttling Madonna at the same decibels for years. While I enjoyed the performance, it was the time with friends that mattered the most, and I still remember the carefree fun and abandon I felt as we roamed the grassy realm of SPAC without parents.
Woke up to the sound of pouring rain The wind would whisper and I’d think of you And all the tears you cried, that called my name And when you needed me I came through
I paint a picture of the days gone by When love went blind and you would make me see I’d stare a lifetime into your eyes So that I knew that you were there for me Time after time you there for me
For that show, the opening band was Skid Row – they were just becoming big too, and a few years later we would see them headline their own tour. Ann was with me for that one as well – she adored Sebastian Bach. That particular show was memorable for the full-frontal flashing he did (right while I was in the bathroom, thank you Sebastian), and I remember Autumn’s parents driving us there on some crazy summer night.
Remember yesterday, walking hand in hand Love letters in the sand, I remember you Through the sleepless nights through every endless day I’d want to hear you say, I remember you
Ann has been of my mind lately, as have a few of my friends that go way back – perhaps it’s the slow-roll to fifty that we are all on right now. She is visiting next weekend with Missy, and the three of us always have a fun time reminiscing and picking up right where we left off – as if no time had passed and we were still in high school, laughing life off. Things are different now, and life has worn all of us down, so I think we are looking for relief and rejuvenation in our friendship. There is something incredibly soothing for the soul when you surround yourself with safe people who have known you at your worst and still can’t help but love you.
We spent the summer with the top rolled down Wished ever after would be like this You said I love you babe, without a sound I said I’d give my life for just one kiss I’d live for your smile and die for your kiss
We spent our summers more carelessly back when we were young, free from all responsibility and worry, back when kids – even teenagers – could just be kids and not work or do something constructive at all hours of the day. It was a time to simply be, and I’m forever grateful that we had that. It made us aware that such peace existed, that living could be slowing down to sleep in, stay out late, and turn the music up so loud it shook the house. We were luckier than we realized then, and I’m glad to realize it again now.
I’m looking forward to seeing my friends again.
Remember yesterday, walking hand in hand Love letters in the sand, I remember you Through the sleepless nights through every endless day I’d want to hear you say, I remember you
We’ve had our share of hard times But that’s the price we paid And through it all we kept the promise that we made I swear you’ll never be lonely
Last night’s song selection reminded me that we are still at the height of summer, and it’s time to return to our island getaway – which is a state of mind, attitude, and sense of ease. This post goes a little deeper, making use of a mix of metaphors. It’s easy to isolate, to become an island unto oneself, especially in the current state of the world. Andy and I have largely retreated to our own little homestead island the past few years, which started with the isolation of COVID and never quite returned to the social insanity of what we did prior. It feels far away, and I’m not sorry it should be so. We have come to embrace the smaller gatherings and dinners, the meaningful moments with a few well-chosen friends. We strive to be the bastion of hope and warmth in a battle-ravaged world of cruelty and cold. We aim to be the lighthouse.
Hey sister, the emotions have gone cold And a part of me is missing Where the rivers used to flow Hey mother, I know you must be sad To see the things are happening I’ll fix it if I can
The lighthouse of this post is the beacon we can all be when we remember to act as neighbor and friend to each other. It’s missing more and more, and I’m as guilty as anyone for not extending my hand to help. I will endeavor to do better, to do what I can without overextending.
I’m holding up the fire Lighting up the sky Like a lighthouse on the ocean Bring you home alright I’m holding up the fire (Holding up the fire) Lighting up the sky (Lighting up the sky) Like a lighthouse on the ocean Bring you home alright
You have so many relationships in this life Only one or two will last You go through all the pain and strife Then you turn your back and they’re gone so fast Oh, so hold on the ones who really care In the end, they’ll be the only ones there When you get old, start losing your hair Can you tell me who will still care?
The weekend almost didn’t come together at first, my suddenly-poor planning skills failing as the weekend coincided almost precisely with when Mercury entered retrograde motion. It struck Anu and Kristen first, as they ran out of gas shortly after entering the state of New York. How a car runs out of gas in this day and age proved the fuel for an entire weekend of questions and commentary, when talk wasn’t on Costco.
Suzie was the next one almost-felled, as she found her own car in the mechanic’s hands, where the power-steering needed some tinkering. The boys made it in without trauma or set-back – Tommy drove up from NY and Chris flew in from Detroit – and by Friday at midnight we were six once more.
With the happy, lifelong exception of Suzie, I didn’t meet these wonderful people until 1995, but it was as if the universe had saved them for when I needed them the most. The ensuing three decades would bring us through weddings, break-ups, funerals, births, holidays, vacations, and the undulating wear-and-tear of life. I understood what Anu meant – even in our heartache and hurt, we were there for each other, and we’ve always been charmed and lucky in that way.
There is always going to be trauma and drama to overcome in every life – finding the tribe of people who are going to help you through it – and to see you through the humor and happiness in every trying moment – is the simple secret to getting through the wilderness.
Our home glows differently when it is filled with adored guests, and this particular group of people – magical by all accounts – make wherever we may find ourselves at any given moment a home.
Plant a seed, plant a flower, plant a rose You can plant any one of those Keep planting to find out which one grows It’s a secret no one knows It’s a secret no one knows Oh, no one knows
Our talk topics are a little different these days, but the laughter and the love are the same – and there’s no one else with whom I’d rather navigate this second half of life.
Summer sometimes seems deceptively sweet, carelessly benign as its sun beats down and lends a false aspect of cheer to whatever might be crumbling in the world around us. Strange really, as heartache knows no seasonal bounds, and occasionally summer’s relentless sweetness is a slap in the face when you’re faced with sadness. That sort of contradiction is rife throughout the memories of this song – ‘Toy Soldiers’ by Martika, of ‘Kids Incorporated’ fame.
It wasn’t my intention to mislead you It never should have been this way What can I say? It’s true, I did extend the invitation I never knew how long you’d stay
When you hear temptation call It’s your heart that takes Takes the fall (Won’t you come out and play with me?)
Step by step, heart to heart (heart to heart) Left, right, left, we all fall down (all fall down) Like toy soldiers Bit by bit (bit by bit), torn apart (torn apart) We never win, but the battle wages on For toy soldiers
In July of 1989, the song went to number one, which is when I remember it – and in many ways this was the section of life when music started mattering, when a song melded itself to a moment. I was thirteen years old, about to turn fourteen, and it feels far away. There are elements that are unrecognizable to me, and elements that are still very much the same. That’s the age the soul is said to solidify into what it will be for life. A powerful age, a tender age, an impossible age. How much we load onto ourselves without realizing it…
It’s getting hard to wake up in the morning My head is spinning constantly How can it be? How could I be so blind to this addiction? If I don’t stop, the next one’s gonna be me
The specifics of that summer escape me, but if I think back hard enough and reinhabit that section of youth, I remember feeling the dangers of growing up, while wanting nothing more than to be older and out in the world – the first stirrings of a restless heart. Throughout that summer Martika sang this plaintive song (reportedly about a friend enthralled in drug addiction) and though I had no idea what it was about, it called to me with all its 80’s glory. To this day, it reminds me of summer – the darker underside of summer – always there in the shade, in the shadows, in the night…
Only emptiness remains It replaces all All the pain (Won’t you come out and play with me?)
Step by step, heart to heart (heart to heart) Left, right, left, we all fall down (all fall down) Like toy soldiers Bit by bit (bit by bit), torn apart (torn apart) We never win, but the battle wages on For toy soldiers
Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere Looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun They rain and they snow on everyone So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way
When the words are taken away, when the voice is silenced, we still have the music, we still have the melody. Once, several years ago, I wrote a blog post using this Joni Mitchell song, but I cannot find it anymore. Like the rest of this site, one day it will all be lost – bits and pieces and fragments of whatever technological remnants might remain won’t ever come together like you see them here. Nothing lasts forever.
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down and still somehow It’s cloud illusions I recall I really don’t know clouds at all
Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels The dizzy dancing way that you feel As every fairy tale comes real I’ve looked at love that way
But now it’s just another show And you leave ’em laughing when you go And if you care, don’t let them know Don’t give yourself away
The sky was troubled on the night these photos were taken, on the night these words are being written. This moment will be over and done by the time anyone reads this post, and this precious capsule of time will have passed. But I can play it over again in my mind, like the way this song remains in memory, as long as I can remember, as long as I might pass it on.
Tears and fears and feeling proud To say, “I love you, ” right out loud Dreams and schemes and circus crowds I’ve looked at life that way
Oh, but now old friends, they’re acting strange And they shake their heads and they tell me that I’ve changed Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained In living every day
As I write this, the friends I met thirty years ago are scheduled to arrive tomorrow for a weekend of catching up and reminiscing, and maybe that’s why I’m feeling slightly nostalgic and contemplative – my ‘pensive pony’ pose as a former paramour once described this mood. Maybe it’s just Mercury in retrograde. As I perused a shirt in a store earlier tonight, it reminded me of my favorite Uncle – it was something he would have worn, likely selected by his wife and of no great concern to him, clothes not mattering as much as other things, and I almost started crying for the tender innocence of some men, and the tender guilt of all of us.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now From win and lose and still somehow It’s life’s illusions I recall I really don’t know life at all
Music and summer go hand in hand with making memories, second only perhaps to scent and fragrance in melding a sensory experience to a memory. This old-school summer playlist contains most of the classics that informed my youthful summers, and last year there was this trio of playlists that informed our Coquette Era:
This year, our summer theme is ‘ISLAND’, and I present to you a playlist that is more eclectic than usual, which directly mirrors the scattered nature of my brain these hot, hazy days… (click on the title for a link to hear the song)
While the Madonna Timeline has yet to hit ‘Has To Be’ – the B-side to Madonna’s ‘Ray of Light’ single – I’m including the instrumental version of this underrated track in this post for its tranquil properties. In my opinion, it could have easily slipped onto the ‘Ray of Light’ album, perhaps elongating the last section’s slowed-down meditative vibe. (It’s certainly superior to the currently-hyped ‘Gone, Gone, Gone’ demo that is part of the messy ‘Veronica Electronica’ release – that one feels decidedly unfinished, even if it’s exceptionally intriguing as a product of this artistically-fertile point in Madonna’s career.)
I’ve written about its pull previously in this post, and there will be a more comprehensive meditation on it for when the Madonna timeline makes its way there. For now, breathe in, breathe out, and say a little prayer.
