This one is a little different, a little special. There’s no YouTube video for this song, because it’s never been released. Not never been released as a single, either. I mean that it’s never been released for public consumption, beyond being excerpted briefly on a TV show and maybe existing on a streaming site somewhere or other for a short while.
I first found Schatzi back when people used P2P networks to find music. I was looking for music to make a mixtape featuring the names of my friends. I already had my own song; pretty much everyone I’ve ever met has sung it to me at one point or another.
Thanks, Rick Springfield. You fucking jerk.
This idea is difficult for me, possibly the most difficult post of this entire project.
So, it’s my turn on sfgirlbybay‘s Blog It Forward wheel. Following in the footsteps of Rhonna DESIGNS, I get to tell you today about what inspires me.
I turned 27 a couple of weeks ago, my early late 20s. I have an office job, I live with my domestic partner. I am, by any estimation, an adult. But I’m no “grownup”.
On Tuesday, September 15, 2009, Johanna was forced to work late due to forces beyond her control, like idiot coworkers.
Johanna is the one who usually makes dinner, and she didn’t know when she would be home, only that she would be hungry.
I, uh, don’t really cook all that much. This was a problem.
The thing about pleated pants is that they are disastrously unattractive. I don’t know what it is about certain people that makes them think that this phenomenon does not apply to them — a lack of style? a failed understanding of the very concept of aesthetic beauty? — but they exist.
For a while, I assisted my friend Danny in the running of his karaoke show. He is an inspiration in the field, setting up a bunch of technology to make his setup cooler for no reason other than the fact that he could. He also helped me with this post, since I’m walking ground upon which his feet are much more firmly planted.
But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.
Last week, I was interviewed by Margaret Durfy for her dissertation. Her subject is city living, urban subcultures, and hipsters. For whatever reason, she was put into contact with me by my friend Katie, who long ago fucked off out of NYC to go grad school in Boulder and, you know, be all successful and stuff.
Anyway. I met Margaret at Joe on East 13th Street. Despite my oft-professed misanthropy, I found her very affable, not least because she wanted to ask me all about my favorite subject: me!
In the days following the close of polls in November 2008, it slowly came clear that gay rights had not moved as far forward as it appeared to many people. The people of California, that liberal bastion, home of San Francisco, gave their mandate that gays should not be allowed to marry.
Well, shit. If it wasn’t going to happen in California, then what chance did the nation have? Could it really be possible that so many Americans legitimately believe that gays are somehow inferior and don’t deserve the right to join with the person they love?