Posts Tagged ‘RIP’

« Older Entries

Susan Tyrrell RIP

Monday, June 25th, 2012

It was a tremendous honor for me to meet Susan Tyrrell. She pumped my shaky nervous hand up and down, hazy in my memory as this was now many years ago, at a very late night party thrown at her eccentrically decorated home, a glassy and brassy 60s affair filled with keane paintings and pixie figurines fashioned into lamps, burning bright into the small hours of Echo Park after dark.



She surprised me by gushing at the sight of me and telling me, in her tinkly, crackling voice over and over again how much of a fan she was of my work. No matter how many times she may have said it to me, I was exponentially more a fan of hers, and I had the sweaty shakes to prove it.



My VHS copy of Fat City got played so much that I actually lost the box and just used the vcr to store the tape.



Susan was nominated for an academy award for her devastating and brilliant performance in the bleak landscape of Fat City. She should have won, and in a way, she did, as the film immortalized her, crystallized the true genius and breadth and depth of her talent and captured a moment in time when movies were great and movie stars were greater forever in amber. Sometimes when you are exceptional, it’s far more dignified to lose. Why flaunt your superiority in everyone’s face? Why rub the world’s nose in your profound gifts? Better to be the beautiful loser than a forgotten winner. Losers are far more interesting. Always. Losers are anything but losers.



Quentin Tarantino and I watched Fat City once and then rewound the tape to watch it again. We loved the movie and we loved her. We couldn’t believe how goddamned good it was and we had to prove it to ourselves not only again but right away. So the tape stayed in the player for possibly years.



Susan was older than me but not by much really. I marveled at how young she seemed when we were introduced, by the late Eddie Kurdziel – who was then playing with Redd Kross, the band I followed with religious zeal and fanatical fervor, thumping my autographed cds and limited edition vinyl as if it were the bible itself. I had always hoped to go on a date with Eddie, but he died before I ever got a chance. I know many beautiful rock stars no longer bound to the earth. It makes me glad that there will be friends on the other side to see, when the time comes. In heaven, there’s a hell of a show going on. Perhaps eddie will escort me there. And I hope susan comes along too.



I remember Susan wrapping her tiny thin arms around me. her embrace was cold from the heavy metal studs on her leather vest, little leather riding cap jaunty on her platinum blonde ponytail. She looked every inch the ultimate motorcycle mama, and as the night bled into morning, she straddled her much younger live-in lover as if he were a harley and passed joints in between the other illustrious and famous guests, of which I didn’t partake in then, as it was my sober phase. I looked at her and I felt proud and electric and independent and new, freshly grown up and howling at the moon with these artists I idolized and now shared this precious moment with, and I thought, “I will remember this forever.” And I have. And I will.



RIP Susan xo



Tags:
Posted in BLOG | 2 Comments »

Everest

Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012

All my love to the families and friends of the Mount Everest hikers who lost their lives. The tragedy is made more heartbreaking because all we are trying to do is go up, rise up, get up, see how far we can – just see.



I think about the Himalayas and my mouth gets immediately dry and my lips crack. My body holds the memory of Nepal and Tibet, the airless moonscape of the fearsome mountains. In my cells, tiny DNA chains form and reform and remind me not to go back, not to climb up, not to risk it. My lungs start to collapse from the inside. I breathe and nothing comes into me, and this is what it feels like for me at altitude. I am not conditioned like a climber should be. I care for myself well enough, but only at sea level. Even Denver makes me dizzy.



At the very least, I read about adventurers and mountaineers and explorers and their sherpas and I feel their struggle and their bravery. I met Jon Krakauer by rudely pushing others out of the way so that I could shake his famous and storied hand. There’s a majesty to those who seek the highest peaks, whether these are literal or figurative. I will always aim high but my asthma and altitude sickness will likely stop me before my fear will, at least on these particular treks.



May those who have climbed and will climb still have the wind carry them up. May they be helped along by god or spirit or nature or whoever is responsible for those things. May their bravery be rewarded with the spectacular view and may their iphones still be charged so they can take pictures for all of us down here on earth.



Tags:
Posted in BLOG | 2 Comments »

Donna Summer

Thursday, May 17th, 2012

It’s devastating I know, and I can say nothing to help, yet, I am always going to try. Even though nothing can be done, I will always try to do something. That is the kind I am.



I never met Donna Summer, but my good friend Prince Poppycock sang with her, and I was always jealous of him for that. Her voice was the sound of the 70s, her high pitch perfect disco soprano kept the dance floor filled with stomping feet, shirtless men and some shirted men among them, bodies close enough to be touching and some actually touching, tightly packed yet boundlessly free, together, maybe feeling good for the first time. This was the sum and solace of Donna Summer, and her name was fitting, as she brought on the summer of our lives, many of us, more than she will ever know, more than we will even ourselves understand.



Donna Summer’s name conjoured hot sweaty midnights, disco balls, being gay and being proud, feather boas and poppers, cocaine and freedom, neon signs and leather vests, that kind of bad girl that every gay man wants to be – not bad really – more like the kind of bad that Olivia Newton John gets into at the end of Grease. Still, Donna Summer wore those tight Frederick’s of Hollywood thick spandex pants first, like jeans but with a long zipper, stringy camisole thing on top, and in this uniform of the true disco diva, I imagine her working over the mikes at Casablanca like no one else before her or since.



We took the loss of Whitney Houston hard, and I for one have not yet recovered. It seemed like we had lost enough so far. Etta james and Whitney Houston – enough is enough – I had thought – and also ironically, it’s one of my favorite Donna Summer songs. Enough is enough – I only think of it as a Donna Summer song – is that terrible? Of course her duet partner is the formidable Barbra Streisand, but unfortunately for Babs, Donna steals the show, even though I can tell the mix of the song is tipped heavily in Barbra’s favor. No matter. Donna’s voice shines decibels above even the greatest and most revered of all singers.



Donna Summer got played a lot at funerals in the 80s, Last Dance becoming a sort of requiem march. The untimely deaths of gay men from AIDS – when I hear that song, that is what I remember. I still love the song though, tragedy and bliss go hand in hand sometimes. I look back at my long life and blink unbelieving at how many I have survived. All I have left are these memories of songs, love for these singers. That is all. As i get older, I have less and less, or maybe that means, I have more. But enough is enough.



Donna Summer R.I.P



Tags: ,
Posted in BLOG | 19 Comments »

Whitney Houston

Monday, April 23rd, 2012

I love this. It’s Whitney Houston’s first tv appearance.





Whitney’s nervous, I think, but that doesn’t affect her performance in the least. She looks perfect, her nerves just adding to her innocence and vulnerability.



I remember my first television appearance. It was MTV’s half hour comedy hour. The makeup artists had to mix a new foundation because they didn’t have one that readily matched my skin tone. There were comics in the audience, actively wishing me ill on stage, their jealousy overcoming their good will and friendship.



Also, there was a weird guy who date-raped me when I was 14 in attendance but I didn’t see him until the show was over, although I doubt it would have affected my performance to know he was there or not there. I didn’t care about that. Comedy was way more important and doing a good set was all that mattered. When I saw him later, drunk and stumbling down the steps, I thought ‘how do I know that guy?’ and then later I shouted “Oh! He raped me!” to no one in particular.



I was nervous, but it only added to my innocence and vulnerability. I was much fatter than Whitney is here, I might have been at least 2 and ½ times her size! But that doesn’t mean much. I was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful and funny and bright as a brand new star. People called me comedy’s answer to Madonna, which was then the absolute highest compliment.



Madonna has done far more for the gay community than any singular artist. And so I learned from her example and I keep going for it just like she did.



And whitney was far more talented than anyone. She leaves us all, even the exceptional ones, in the wake of her, coughing up her dust. She was the best, and nothing will ever change that.



Tags: ,
Posted in BLOG | 3 Comments »

Dick Clark – New Year’s Rockin’ Eve

Thursday, April 19th, 2012

this is a repost – to say RIP my old friend



In 1994, I co-hosted Dick Clark New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, and we filmed that shit nowhere near New Years. It was like in July or something really early like that. The show was shot in different locations and put together in post like a quilt, but I remember my patch was done at a big megastudio in Orlando, florida, probably MGM or Disneyworld. I am not sure which theme park it was, but I remember at the airport I had to take a tram so it must have been Orlando.



They paid a lot for me at the time, and since I was technically an employee of Disney, whenever I was at Disneyland or Disneyworld, I never had to wait in line for rides or pay one thin dime for food or souvenirs, which basically ruined the theme park game for me. Now when I go to any kind of amusement park, I expect that kind of treatment. I get in through the gates and I feel like a deposed king, no longer in power yet unable to blend back into ordinary life, the memory of riches and entitlements now just a bitter taste in my mouth.



But in the early 90s, I could ride the Matterhorn as many times in a row as I pleased. If I wanted to I could just stay on the ride and go again and again and again and again and I did it so much I didn’t enjoy it at all anymore. It just rattled my brain and racked my nerves. I preferred the weirdly retro science rides at Disneyworld, the ones hardly ridden by anyone and set to close down forever, which now would be categorized as ‘steampunk’ and be kept running by hipsters high on mushrooms.



Whenever you went to Disneyworld you would get a young person who would be your fixer, and they would usually be a good looking, somewhat androgynous and extremely ambitious type. Their jobs had a specific name but I can’t remember what it is, or what their individual names were. They would do anything for you, and I even think once I asked them for drugs and they just laughed. They wore plaid vests and were uniformly beautiful and resourceful and trained to please you in all ways that were legal and possible. I guess it is like hiring a geisha, as these vested and happy helpers made a point to flatter you and make good conversation, so they were geisha without kimono. Like Doctors Without Borders. Nice kids.



They drove me to the set in golf carts and complimented my fancy gown, a Gregory Parkinson original, fitted to my body in the workroom of his old store on Beverly Blvd. Gregory slit the back open and pinned the silver sequin masterpiece so it hung perfectly, and after the special was filmed he hand dyed it so I could wear it again without anyone suspecting it wasn’t new. It was my first real designer dress and I wish I still had the thing. I can’t remember where it is at all anymore.



Dick Clark was there and he looked supernaturally young, which has been the joke with him forever, and he has always been fond of me and relied on me and gave me jobs way before other people did. Once he brought me in specially to shoot an episode of the Donny and Marie talk show. The famous siblings fought throughout my segment, and Dick apologized for their constant conflict. I was merely honored to be there, and probably as starstruck as I have ever been. I remember the Barbie style dolls of Donny and Marie I had as a child, in their purple ice skating outfits, the shredded amethyst and lavender chiffon cut into tiny triangles to give the illusion of movement. I don’t know why they don’t have tv shows filmed on ice anymore. This was a smashingly good idea.



Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve wasn’t filmed on ice, and I shared co-hosting duties with Steve Harvey, who I saw often in those days, as we both had big deals with Disney. He was always hilarious and made fun of the executives and whenever he was there it was a relief because I didn’t have to do all the joking. Salt-n-Pepa performed and they wore knee pads and danced impressively and sang their hit ‘What a Man’ and it was thrilling even though they had to repeat the song a number of times so that the cameras could move and shoot them from different angles. Every time they did the song I still got just as excited as the first time. I love Salt-n-Pepa. Spinderella was there too.



We all stood together at the end and cheered in the new year – I think Hootie and the Blowfish were in attendance as well but my memory doesn’t include them and I am not sure why. I saw Darius Rucker multiple times during that period. For some reason we were always in the same hotels. I was always coming when he was going.  Different cities, different days, but we always passed each other in the same direction. He’s nice too. He’ll hold an elevator for you even when its awkward and inconvenient.



When the old year was counted out and the new year was ushered in I got scared because it wasn’t New Years. It wasn’t even close to New Years. I had been watching this show since I was a child and I had always assumed it was live and now to be a part of it, a big part of it and know what a lie it was felt strangely shattering and sickening. I think it was the very beginning of my nervous breakdown of the mid-90s and one of the reasons I never celebrate New Year’s Eve.



Tags: ,
Posted in BLOG | 7 Comments »

Whitney

Sunday, February 12th, 2012

I am broken up by Whitney Houston’s death. I just watched her sing the star spangled banner, the video passed around in the last few weeks, mostly as a reaction to Steven Tyler’s recent rendition, which I didn’t think was so bad. It’s a hard song to sing. Why don’t you try it? I can’t even get to any of the high parts, no matter what key it’s in, no matter how much I warm up beforehand, and I am a better singer than most.



I am glad that lots of people watched that video, as YouTube and links and the idea of viral wasn’t around in 1991. Either you saw it on TV or you didn’t. You should watch it now. It’s easily the very best time anyone’s sung the national anthem, it being one of the most arduous songs ever written, an egregiously undemocratic collection of notes, available only to the exceptional. Whitney Houston was exceptional.



She emerged, fresh faced and innocent, her chaste being one of her leading virtues. There was a purity to Whitney Houston, proper and forthright, talented and honest. Her sensibility was sensibility. There was an earthly majesty every time she opened her mouth to sing. The simplicity of her was the magic of her. She didn’t show off so much, there were none of the vocal gymnastics that are popular nowadays to advertise the worth and measure of a singer. We didn’t need that from her. She was undisputedly the queen, and yet also, every woman.



“anything, you want done baby, I’ll do it naturally……..”



I don’t want to hear that no one is surprised that she is dead. I, for one, am actually surprised. She seemed as if she could have come back. She seemed already on her way back. It was like she had called and said she was on her way and we were just waiting for her to pull up. I felt like she was close, and I don’t want to let go of that feeling.



I am sick of the superiority people have about drug addiction and problems and how it’s funny and like a ‘trainwreck’ when someone is caught on camera stumbling and mumbling outside of a club and then they die and no one is surprised. I want to be shocked by death when it arrives to collect us. I want it to come out of the blue always. I never want to expect it for someone. We should never expect it, or we should always expect it, because in truth, it will come for all of us in time. It’s just a matter of time.



Drugs take a toll too great to calculate. We have no way of knowing what the cost is. Today, I don’t want to think about lessons I need to learn or cautionary tales or fame as it comes and goes.  No rants for now. Let it be quiet and let it be bleak. Let what has been lost be mourned in earnest.



I want to think about the gentle genius of Whitney Houston’s voice.



I remember a cute guy we all knew named Tops – who we all agreed was too adorable to be one – who would introduce himself like “Hi. I’m Tops…..don’t let the name fool you!” Tops would stand in the kitchen, his head visible above the swinging doors, and sing at the tops of his lungs “I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat – with somebody!”



The affinity and reach of Whitney Houston was felt most intimately within the gay community. Many men I am close with won’t even answer my texts or calls today. Her death is hurting them more than they imagined, the silencing of her a terrifying reminder of mortality itself and rendering them silent. Iphones are off to cry and watch youtube videos in peace.



I don’t know what else to do but this. I feel like I can’t say anything to make it better. I am going to shut everything off and cry for a time.






Tags: ,
Posted in BLOG | 38 Comments »

Don Cornelius

Thursday, February 2nd, 2012

I’m grieving over Don Cornelius. I loved soul train, and although it went toe to toe in the same late Saturday morning time slot as American Bandstand, Soul Train always won out. I’d watch the show and try to keep up with the gorgeous kids on the dance floor, wishing I could be one of them instead of myself, desperately wanting out of my body into one of theirs, cursing my awkwardness and humbled by their grace.



Don was ever handsome and velvet voiced. He stood still as everyone moved. He was tall and stately, which seemed to anchor the music and secure the beat, lending calm and gentility to the rhythm that is felt so deeply in your heart, that shakes your body up from the bottom to the top. Don was cool about it. Don was the best.



I guess I took the political importance of Soul Train for granted when I was a kid. I didn’t know or understand what it took for a program like that to be on the air. It was a big deal in terms of race and visibility for people of color. It was by itself its own civil rights movement and one I danced to religiously, yet then it was all down to the music and not about any idealistic vision. For that we have Don Cornelius to thank. He was a true visionary. He was a pioneer. He gave us to ourselves, us who love R&B and soul and pop and slow jams and funk and hip hop. I even cry when I think about watching The Commodores or Marvin Gaye or The Jackson Five or JANET JACKSON (MY FAVORITE) and the feeling I had that this was for me or about me and by me. I don’t know why I felt that, I just did.



Everyone I know is broken up about this loss, about what happened. It’s unexpected and too terrible to comprehend. My friend asked, “Don, I wish you had told us what you needed.” I wish people would tell us what they need, before it’s too late. I promise to tell you what I need if you promise me the same. Let’s be here for each other so that we won’t have to feel this again, this helplessness. The blankness of death. It’s bitter. It’s bleak. I don’t want to feel this. The emptiness overwhelms me and consumes me and swallows me whole.



What I want to remember is the tremendous achievements of Don Cornelius, what he brought to me, what he will forever be remembered for, all he did. The soul train camera would split and weave through the crowd and they moved with it and you could feel the exhilaration when the lens would rest on one then another. It was the power of the collective gaze finally brought to those so used to being invisible that being suddenly visible made us high. How much is visibility worth? It’s everything. It is proof of your existence. When you see me, I am here. When you see me dancing, I invade the moment and surround the moment and transcend the moment. When I dance, I am this fine moment and the world is my witness and there is nothing better.



Soul Train wasn’t just a kids music show, it was a grand entrance, an essential, empowering, addictive and ever important mirror and a proud and courageous wish for our future that we would grow out of this, become more from this, and because of this, we have.



Don_Cornelius



Tags: ,
Posted in BLOG | 11 Comments »

« Older Entries