This being a leap year made February a little more and less bearable—less in that it meant one more day to suffer through, more in that I didn’t have to limit myself as much on sheer song count here.
This playlist is devoid of love songs (aside from “Lovesong” itself, but that’s meant to be ironic) on purpose, although it does happen to contain one of the most romantic songs known to man, “John My Beloved” by Sufjan Stevens. It also has “Tubthumping” but that’s because of this hysterical video.
Continue reading Playlist — February 2017
New year new me! Except for how this is largely all the same artists I listened to in 2016. There goes that, I guess. There’s a lot of oldies, a lot of instrumental tracks, a couple of more cringe worthy tracks that take me back to very specific memories that I’d already rather have forgotten. January was a bit of a memorable month.
Continue reading Playlist — January 2017
At 2:36 pm, I saw a photo on Tumblr of a pretty gay looking ad for Ken of Mattel fame and his “buddy” Allan. While at first struck by the feeling that I had seen it before (I hadn’t, it just reminded me of a still from Dead Poets Society, which is a whole different thing), I realized that I actually had no idea who this other named Barbie boy was.
Continue reading Drawings of the Short-Lived Barbie Doll “Allan” That Embody My Ideal Gender Presentation
Last December I decided to start making a playlist for every month, like, well, pretty much everyone. Instead of just pushing together a bunch of songs I like every first of the month, though, I thought I’d put it together over the course of the entire month—adding a bunch of tunes in the beginning, listening to something else for eight days straight, adding that, deciding I hate some of them, deleting them, finding new bands, and on and on and on.
And then, because I think I’m pretty clever, I forced myself to limit the number of songs to however many days there are in the month. February is when I really started to hate that particular rule.
Continue reading Playlist — December 2016
I wasn’t sure … I didn’t know what I was until about 1952 or ’53. I knew that I loved very much my roommate at college, where I had had my first lesbian experience. But it wasn’t until I was a camp counselor in West Virginia that I had the experience that gave me some notion of what my life was about to be all about. I was sitting on a hill … and I was reading a letter from my roommate, the lover of my life, the very first lesbian relationship that I’d ever had. Her parents had taken her off to Scandinavia because they had found out the nature of our relationship. She had written me a goodbye letter, and I was sitting there on Vesper Hill, looking out over the beautiful Greenbrier River, crying like a baby, because I didn’t think there was anybody else in the world like me. I had never heard the word ‘lesbian.’ I had never dreamed that there was anybody else who had any kind of orientation like I did or who loved the way that I did … Suddenly a shadow fell across the paper, and I looked up, hiding the letter, into the face of the camp bugler, a rather butch-looking woman that I had had some questions about. She was standing up there and she was toking on her cigarette … and then she sort of squatted down beside me. And here we were, the two of us, sitting there looking out over the beautiful Greenbrier River. And then she puts her hand on my shoulder, she takes another toke off of the cigarette, and she blows it off and she says, “We are growing in numbers every day.”
— Last Call at Maud’s, Sally Miller Gearhart