Posts Tagged ‘personal

14
Aug
19

The Older Man at the Dating Carnival

****

So, there I was, a middle-aged man at what is essentially a carnival, surrounded by families, couples and a zoological encyclopedia of younger women often traveling in small packs like wild gazelles.

I found myself longing and looking at the young gazelles…and then feeling completely out of sorts and out of place. Had I indulged my youthful thoughts, I’d later admonish myself for acting like some pedophile. I look around, trying to spot the older cheetahs, the cougars and elephants…and I can’t see anything other than mothers, wives and grandmas. I feel completely out of place with attachment to nothing other than the family I accompany, and even that is sketchy attachment, like a loose tooth waiting to pop out of a kid’s mouth. I am adrift in the sea of human connectivity. And, being so lost, I had almost no interest in being among the crowd.

Part of me wanted to blink my eyes and storm right back to the car or even hike all the way home. Part of me was lingering like a child insistant on getting a balloon or toy before he goes home. I came to sample new foods and help my nephews have fun and be safe. I could only manage the babysitting duty. The food (and mingling, if I had that nerve) just couldn’t fit itself into my abilities; the heat and crowding didn’t help.

Some day, you’ll find me in a National Geographic special on human nature and see the lone, hungry outsider who can’t seem to find a mate or make many decisions. He will be tortured by constant references to Taylor Swift (whose name kept popping up at said carnival as if the phone was ringing for me to take some kind of action I did not know).
[What am I to do, Tay? They’re playing your song. They’re naming pigs after you. They have your “swag” for sale. The days of Hannah Montana and the first wave of Spice Girls didn’t generate as much attention. Suddenly, you’re everywhere…and I feel like I am nowhere. I don’t want a Taylor Swift sundae or Cotton Cand-Tay. I want to *savor* the real thing.]

Sorry, readers, for bringing her into yet another blog post. But, it happened for a reason. Of that, I am certain. I’m just not sure why.

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14
Aug
19

Award Shows Are Bogus ver. 081419

***

I’ve been fairly certain for a while. But, now, I am convinced; award shows are complete crap, utter rubbish, excessively expensive lies designed to look glamorous at the expense of souls.

All participants…all of those members of the “foreign press”…are either naïve or devious scum. Now, some of that naïve scum could redeem itself; there’s still hope. But, those who run the machines are surely black as sin or the thickest roots in an underground railroad to decide, like some Hunger Games contest, which celebrities and “little people” (the faceless crew members who outnumber the big names and slave over the projects of those who call themselves producers) get food and care for the year and who gets to fight over the scraps and eat shit. The lucky ones get their names attached to the next box-office big ticket while the bottom of the food chain gets to show of their bodies and talk stupid in the films that come out at the end of summer, when “kids” go back to school and no one gives a flying fook what they watch.

Now, breathe. And, let me shed a little light on the shape of this crap…or, rather, what supports my stomach-turning, fury-stoking feelings.

Every year, there’s that “best picture” film that takes one big award and another…and another…and gets so much buzz from all those cracked camera-toting tabloid freak shows who put every famous and not-so-famous face on the spot with stupid questions, testing them to see if they crack and say anything different from their last interview, anything negative about the people they recently knew as part of the crew. Everybody is “amazing.” Every experience is something good for the resume, even if the person secretly loathed or struggled through it. Every director is uniquely talented. Every interview is to make sure the next job goes smoothly and to collect a check; so don’t expect anyone to answer openly and honestly, even if you’re straight-shooting, expected-to-cuss Samuel L. Jackson.

So, why do we even do interviews?! It’s not for the fans. It’s for promotion…more and more promotion. An interview is a talking movie poster which can’t say anything about what happens in the movie, due to contractual threats that pretty much shackle all who partake in making the expensive torture package that actors refuse to watch because they struggled through it; they didn’t enjoy it. An interview is just a painful showcase of faces who habitually look down when they feel the urge to lie, to hold in the vomit and glaze over what they’d like to say. Hey! Look who’s in the movie! And, they’re talking without reading a script! How amazing…like watching animals behind glass in a zoo.

If you really enjoyed making something, wouldn’t you want to look at it, again? Or, do you go crazy because you find a mistake and realize you can’t correct it? Your hard work is now someone else’s baby, and you have no control. So, all your effort amounts to what someone makes of it. That’s rather cruel punishment in its own way and not respectful to the creative soul.

And, I have sampled a number of these “amazing” films. Not one has earned 5 out of 5 stars with me; they’re all lucky if they get a 3. I saw The English Patient, Schindler’s List, The Hurt Locker and, just recently, The Shape of Water. Oh, there was SO much buzz about The Shape of Water, not too long ago. And, I remember the high praise the rare FEMALE director got for The Hurt Locker. Of all the films I just mentioned, I guess The Hurt Locker was the best…but that’s not saying much. When you put Average Joe in a pageant with four corpses beaten to a bloody pulp, of course Average Joe is going to look good and smell all the sweeter. It’s like that one girl in school who gathers a cluster of less pretty girls around her so she stands out as the pretty one; it’s like some status tactic used by schools of fish.

Now, let me come right out and say I did not see these films in the theater for a good reason; I had my doubts from the start. And, again, it took just one lousy lie of a rental to sully my belief in all the award talk. But, I keep hope alive, and I…I guess maybe I’m a little naïve, too, yet, to give these other “hits” a chance. I want to see what makes them so great.

So, let’s talk about my latest mistake, The Shape of Water. Oh, how the director got lauded with praise and looked so sweet and innocent on stage, giving his grand speech and kudos to all who let him make such a…gruesome, rude and lewd film. If I may be so frank, it’s as if he was extremely horny and hungry while watching the old Creature from the Black Lagoon, late at night, and then had the nerve to think making a remake with more nudity and foul language was a great idea. What a damn creative fool.

Sally Hawkins is the poster woman for the demure, docile, closet freak. Thank goodness she didn’t go on some murderous rampage; that would have really ruined the part. All crap aside, she gave the film an ounce of redemption…well, aside from what she had to do in the first half-hour. Seriously, del Toro, excessive nudity…excessive because it had NOTHING to do with the story. Nada. You didn’t get a close up of her scars until the one guy examined her. No; you just had her get naked, over and over, again, for your personal amusement.

And, what was with the other sex scene? Why didn’t you go one step or two steps further? Why not have the gay artist–with his foul mouth and obsessive dialogue–take advantage of the pie guy? Come on, throw in some finger this and f-that while they indulge in some gay sex. Or, why couldn’t Octavia Spencer get naked with her husband? Why can’t black and gay folks get fair sex play? Booo! No, I’m just kidding. But, really, why include any sex other than what was the focus of the film? There only had to be one sex scene, and you spoiled it before they got in the tub.

I would not be surprised if you ended up in court with all the other poor and stupid men who are getting grilled for indecent actions. I would not be surprised if something popped out of your closet. Why can’t you keep certain lewd thoughts to yourself? And, why did you have to make the film so graphic when it could have been a much nicer and just as exotic love story?

You went down some Stephen King, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino side street and drove through Frank Miller’s neighborhood. You took Splash and turned it into Sin City. Oh, sure the ending is bittersweet and finally happy; but I ate a ton of shit before I could even try to smile; so the whole experience left me queasy. You poured acid on my whipped cream sundae. You’re not the worst film maker out there…but The Shape of Water had better not be your opus. I’d like the water to wash it out of my memory so I can fantasize, again. Your “big hit” is a giant seagull dropping, not something I could comfortably watch more than once. It has little to no replay value; I’d snip off just the final ten minutes and call it a lovely short film that encompasses the best of the story…which pretty much makes the movie another Citizen Kane; just spare us the horrific two-plus hours and tell us it was your childhood sled.

You want my humble rating? Would that do anything for you? I’d give The Shape of Water 1 out of 5 stars, overall. I’d give Sally Hawkins 4 stars for being a beautiful, caring freak who thankfully didn’t do anything too gross or wrong to make me hate her; and I feel sorry for her, for having to expose herself the way she did. I’d give cinematography 3 stars, maybe 4, because the movie did have a decent colored noir quality to it; it suited a Dick Tracy sort of story. But, Octavia Spencer pretty much reprised her roll in The Help; so what can I rave about that? One black woman in an otherwise white world? And, the story? I already said; it’s The Creature from the Black Lagoon in modern 3-DUH, Dolby foul mouth, bloody Sunday whack-a-vision. You get no points for creativity other than visual artistry, period. You are just another big name with all of the latest tools in your kit, and when given the chance to build a sand castle, you played with mud pies. When you had the chance to focus on a Cinderella story, you chose to screw the docile doe in the dark room; you put the horny jerk in the same cage with the last unicorn (and thank goodness *that* didn’t happen). [And, FYI, oddities eating cats went out with Alf…and it wasn’t any funnier then, either…but it was suggested, not on camera.]

But, ya all come back now and watch my masterpiece, again, ya hear? This is a family show…not. It definitely earns its R rating, unlike some films that only get an R because of one lousy little cross of the line. I’d say The Shape of Water even edges an X rating…because there was more flashing of boob and overt sex than most R-rated films I’ve seen.

Here’s a brief lesson in the school of suggestion: Sex, nudity and gore can be veiled and still convey the message.
1) When Sally’s character takes a bath or shower, we could see her silhouette behind a shower curtain, and we’d still know she’s naked. Or, you could have her enter the bathroom and cut to her already covered in soap suds; no need to expose the actress or any body double you may have used…which would only make the whole effort even more stupid and pointless.

When I was in school, my English/writing teachers would draw red circles around portions of stories that didn’t contribute to the plot or characters and took away from the overall enjoyment. What you included (which turned me off and made me ill) was definitely not key to anything; I am sure most viewers would be aware of a person needing to get naked for a bath or having sex with a wife…or were you afraid people might think the creep’s marriage was void of sex?…hey, that might have made that other scene with the cleaning lady better; ya know?

2) A rather pointless sex scene could be conveyed with sounds and/or two flirty people slipping into a room together; ya don’t have to show the woman exposing herself and the cruel, creepy, FBI-ish, White-Collar-Bizarro guy throttling her on the bed!

[How to curb/replace the excessive foul and lewd language is another matter…I’d just omit it. It didn’t make the love story any prettier. It just lumped your enchanting crapper-piece with the likes of Superbad and…I can’t think of any other crappers at the moment…thank goodness they are washed from memory. I’ve seen movies with rape scenes that were just as creepy/unsettling but more suggestive than overt.]

3) When your feature creature wants to eat another animal… Couldn’t you have shown the creature holding the cat and then cut away to an audio clip of someone crunching celery. Then, when the owner returns, have him look down and recoil in horror…and we’d get it! We’d know why he’s horrified. Ya don’t have to show all the bits and blood. Bleh!

Can you imagine some steamy love story where the man makes the woman bleed in the you-know-what area and one or both lovers develop a scarring STD after they have their sweaty fun? [Ya know what; that just gave me a crazy idea for a sexual alien comedy that would still be far cleaner than your mess.] Would you enjoy that movie as much as a more suggestive one without the unfortunate side effects of some realities? There’s a line between realistic and horrifying reality…and you sure cross it, mister, but not for the benefit of the viewers…unless you want to scare people away from love fantasies and support eating disorders…because I could have developed one had I kept my eyes glued on the screen and not used the fast-forward button.

At this rate, I could lose my appetite for film, altogether, before I am old enough to be a cripple stuck in a wheelchair in front of some TV with a bunch of other elder folks losing their minds to medication abuse. Just think…what’s the use in going into movie-making, aspiring to create some soul-satisfying masterpiece when the whole industry is one more mine field of twisted metal, of warping your dreams into nightmares and slave labor? People are dying and committing suicide for some reason. And, it doesn’t surprise me when I try to grasp what all goes into this industry and the infuriating cover-ups that get splashed all over TV screens, even when some creative soul dies tragically.

Losing my appetite for film would be a serious crime against nature, against my creative soul. The water is so polluted, even I am having a hard time writing/creating anything spectacular; but, then again, I work alone, most of the time. I don’t have a clue what it’s like to be surrounded by teammates who can actually work together to make something run like clockwork and make people wonder what the budget must have been to create such a spectacle.

So, I must remind myself not to pay a lick of attention to award shows. Or, at least, I must go to bed before that final fifteen minutes into overtime when we viewers are supposed to be holding our breaths for the big reveal, the final envelope of crap. I must write them off and stick to the trailers that work for me.

Sell me a good trailer, and I’ll give you a chance. And, if you lie to me…..well, let’s just say my response will be…amazing, amazing crying crazy amazing. You’ll certainly find me writing you off my interest list. And, I have ways of swaying the masses. Not that it matters much when the majority seems to be losing all sense of creativity, as if they’ve become so numb from countless abusive images that they no longer have the brain cells to produce anything remotely as good as the stories they refuse to let go, stories from so long ago, they’ve been dragged behind cars for decades, tossing through one remake after another like tin cans on strings.

You know who the real losers are here (aside from creative souls)? The movie theaters and good people who appreciate them. All of the modern technology this world pushes for and all of the crappy, expensive films that get made…bump out all of the wonderful places that one could say feel like a second home. The day when someone decides to shut down the last movie theater in favor of some microscopic internet service station (ding! ding! goes the air tube keeping you couch potatoes alive), I’m sure to cry or have a considerably furious stomach upset because it will be like a nuclear bomb going off and destroying some serene tourist attraction. [Don’t get me started on the horrors of nuclear power pursuits.]

There wouldn’t be any concern for piracy if people didn’t introduce devices that could do such a thing. And, if movie theaters could afford better security without making visitors feel violated like other venues that practically X-ray you when you walk through, if people still cared, maybe thieves wouldn’t get away with what they still do, even after the days of VHS and the most primitive of camcorders. I don’t know why anyone cares about bootlegging, lately…because I am not sure what films are really worth stealing. Or, is that why so many films suck and twist the original story material?…is that why Michael Bay mangled Transformers?…because too many pirates were trying to make a buck off other people’s work? So, since the dawn of film piracy, everyone in the industry just started pumping out their worst, not their best? We settled into dependency upon whatever the latest technology is and putting up poster children as feature stars? Are we selling good stories or the latest model of movie camera you can only get at exclusive electronics stores?…on sale this week until tomorrow…flash sale!

And, breathe. I…don’t know how to wrap this up. The stench is just pouring out of me. So, I leave it as it is, like a broken garbage bag. I had to air it out, though, so I didn’t die from the stink in silence. Now, you know, and knowing is half the battle.

03
Aug
19

In Other T. Swift News… August, 3, 2019

*****

The fires of my feelings for Tay Swift continue to burn and cause me internal upsets as I periodically wonder…and worry…what’s in store for her.  Or, rather, worry what some other prince and big machine…er, corporate nightmare may do.

I am reaching out to the universe to guide and assist me.  And, the universe…and Tay…have a way of speaking.  Or, am I imagining some of these things?

While doing some leisurely shopping with family, I came upon an old CD of Tay’s and *swiftly* purchased it; my first Tay Swift CD (because intense mixed feelings have kept me from investing in the music, feelings I’ve already touched on in other posts and cannot adequately/briefly describe here).  It felt strange.  I felt like some creepy older guy buying a kid…kid’s old music.  The CD was unopened, factory sealed, as if someone had a flash of interest or received it for free and cast it aside.  The cover glistened with gold, screaming SPEAK NOW.

[And, you know what makes that album special?  2010.  Well…it wasn’t the first year I noticed you/Tay.  But, I think, in 2010, I started speaking to people about my infatuation with you/Tay.  My first artworks, of a digital sort, began around 2009, as was a special gift I made for someone, who was trying to secure a relationship with someone she loved, with the words of your Love Story.  I think, as my memory currently fails me (I should have notes on this somewhere), my first glimpse was sometime between 2001 and 2007, before Katy Perry had her debut CD/fans.  But, around 2010, I began admitting my feelings.  When people would ask if I had aspirations to marry her/you, I’d timidly say, “Yeah.  I mean, she’s just…special.”  I’d brace myself for laughter/ridicule and my own feeling of foolishness for carrying such a torch, for essentially being the guy with the poster on his wall and all the other fan swag, though I continue to admit I am not a superfan…more of a personal, sensitive admirer who is vibrating from your aura, not your stardom.]

I felt as if some ghostly hand was tapping me on the shoulder, telling me to say something.  Say what, universal Tay?  What haven’t I said?  What should I say?

Or, have I said something right and am now being heard?  Because I am picking up little signals as if either I am getting through…or someone else is having the same thoughts, and I am just picking up echoes in the airwaves, like seeing a TV show on the west coast a few hours after it already aired on the east coast.

I see a new album on the horizon…titled Lover…and that has me (concerned) something else is on the horizon.  On one hand, I should be happy for her (if it is).  I shouldn’t be casting any doubt or pushing any buttons labeled CANCEL.  But, on the other hand, if I may be so selfish, I hear a lil voice in my head that looks like Tay in nerdy glasses shouting something about sitting on the bleachers.

I just watched a video for a song called The Archer which resonates strongly with me, though the message is a bit cloudy at parts.  Tay, you kinda go in circles with that one.  I presume it’s a meditative tool, a means of looking at yourself in the mirror.  But, it also speaks, as many of your songs do, to some mystery figure either in your life or in your fantasies.  As I listened to the words and music, I felt like I was sitting in some humid room with sun slicing through window blinds and a fan running…and I felt this vibration running through me like I was being probed by an alien spaceship.  I felt half-naked and uneasy, under scrutiny and grasping for understanding.  I felt a ghostly hand reaching out to merge with another.  I saw astrological imagery spanning across a sunrise (or sunset).

I felt like I am/was so close to something real; I can almost smell it.  And, I’m left with an inexplicable ache when the music ends.  I don’t want that to be the feeling I get when I hear her, your voice, Tay.  But, I don’t know how to resolve the feelings I have without you.  Yet, as with many things in my experience/life, no matter what I think, life finds a way.  I just wish and hope the way leads to you and I meeting in the middle.

You see…not a typical fan.  I can’t say I am a fan.  I am an admirer…a fantasy lover…in a little town called WordPress.  [Well, me fantasizing about you as a lover.  I am not sure you’d fantasize about me…but you probably DO fantasize about someone like me.]

Maybe you’re right.  I just need to *calm down.*  [I doubt you’ll forgive me for being a bit gay-phobic, when it comes to gay men, at least.  And, I know I’ve said some hateful things about Ryan Reynolds, but did you have to include him in that video as a painter?…was that a not-so-subtle message to me?]

Stay tuned, Tay fans.  And, send those good vibes and wishes my (our) way.

And, Tay?  YYYou know what to dooo.  [I personally am not sure where else to send my thoughts/words.  The channels are murky at best.]

 

 

15
May
19

There Is Only One Me, Too, Tay

*****

And, I am literally priceless.

I may find others who compete with your beauty and/or talent.  But, there is only one you.  And, there is only one exactly like me, even if I could be placed in some box with people exhibiting similar patterns, behaviors or whatever.  Whether I get to live a dream with you or not, I will go on, hopefully, happy to have this feeling about you in my heart.  If that good feeling sours and/or causes me pain, I will add it to the pile I must let go.  But, if the powers that be say it can be, we will have that moment, that life in the sun, together.

I have yet to adequately listen to your latest “hit,” but what I have heard is a good beat and decent harmony with the male singer.  I know this comes weeks, already, after all the buzz about the new release and all the “views.”  I will likely say more once I do give the song/album more time.

For whatever reason, it sounded like a message to me.  And, I took it that way.  It compelled me to write this, just a quick note for the lovely Taylor Alison Swift if she…you ever sees any of these.

18
Apr
19

Dear, Dear Tay (Taylor Alison Swift)… I have something personal to say, again

*****

Otherwise titled:  Tay Fever Strikes, Again…Digital Art Explosion, April ’19, Stage 5, Critical Mass

Tay?  If you’re out there…  I’ve been thinking about you, again.  You don’t know me, yet.  And, if deja vu means anything, you may miss your chance if I don’t take every chance I can get.  I’m a tragically timid, relatively paranoid, creative soul seeking purpose and partnership.  In some ways, I feel you and I are like two wheels meant to work together in some big clock that will revolutionize the world (in a good way, just to be clear, considering all the madness happening in recent years). 

I suppose I’m better off exposing myself (not THAT way, sheesh) in some video like that kid who wanted you to be his date to Prom.  [The thought would have crossed my mind, too, some years ago.  But, I didn’t even know you back then.  And, thinking of trying such a thing now…I am not so elastic that I could easily rebound from a rejection letter or no letter, at all.  I don’t even know…I’m not looking…did you ever respond to or visit that boy?]  But, while you risk your neck in the spotlight every day, I don’t have an army to put out fires, screen incoming calls, watch my back and counsel me.  So, I am treading cautiously but feeling strongly.  And, if you’ll work with me through this, we’ll both get the answers we need without more than a little heartache as a possible consequence.

I’m clearly not a man of few words.  I would not fair well on Twitter, sadly.  So, get comfortable and prepare to read.

As I wandered through my latest wave of obsessive fantasy thinking, I thought about your upcoming birthday, a small milestone on the road to the legend I am fairly certain you will one day achieve.  [Or, am I supposed to help with that?]  I started having the affectionate, loving thoughts of a horse getting ahead of the race. I haven’t even taken step one, and I’m worrying about step thirty.

I’ve had crushes on other musicians; I still carry tiny torches for a few, even if I am fairly certain those feelings are going nowhere.  Yet, each torch is different.  And, that certainly applies to you.  There’s something extra special about you (or that’s just what my infatuated mind is telling me).  And, every time I imagine myself standing in your presence, I am torn between passing out and turning into some mythical figure, like a mortal obtaining superhuman powers, as if you are some magical battery that would impact my evolution.  [I cannot say the same about most of those other torches.  Some women are just hot flames attracting moths to their doom.] 

If I think about it long enough, or if I look at countless photos and tabloids, I quickly lose steam and shrivel up into a ball without ambition; I feel dwarfed, out of style and out-classed.  I try to remind myself I only see a glimmer of the real you.  [And, you’ve likely seen nothing of me.]  And, I am not sure if that helps me feel better or makes my lofty visions more painful when I “realize” they’re not happening.

I went from seeing no other place to put these than in a “closet” to composing a birthday montage/letter which I could still wait to send.  But, the universe is stirring me to seize the moment.  And, if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s usually my choice to wait that costs me so many opportunities.  Yet, when I leap at chances, I’ve also received my share of burns.  

Presently, I cannot feature my finest work in its video form.  But, I can show the parade of images that completes the “Side A” of the letter/video and enclose a “transcript” of “commentary” and the “Side B remix.”  And, why not, I’ll show a few from the collections that couldn’t fit nicely into the videos.  And, if you haven’t already, be sure to look back at previous posts with images of and messages to you.  [I’ll leave the birthday wish picture out of the lineup, for now.  So, at the end, where it says this was a thirty-page something…it’s currently twenty-nine.  And, you’ll just have to pause to read everything in each frame, as I see no way to adjust the speed of the slideshow.  [The “premium video version” lasts about 4 minutes and 30 seconds with all the bells and whistles.]

===================================

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

If I am posting this during springtime, consider my explosion of creative output a side effect of Tay Fever. And, I’ll likely need a box of tissues.
Dear Taylor “Tay” Alison Swift,

This is a text reproduction of a video compilation I put together with two “sides,” like an audio cassette or vinyl record. If you are unable to see the video, just imagine these words set to the music of Elton John’s “Your Song,” as sung with the artist known as Pavarotti. Why “Your Song?” Because you write and perform songs, and I occasionally aspire to write, compose and perform songs, as well. I have a few guitars and am looking for a good teacher. 🙂 And, I’ve been known to have a good singing voice. Portions set in brackets are artwork captions. Some carry some small clue to/aspect of Tay and/or my identity. Others are meant to be amusing and related to the feature image in some way. ‘Plenty of cartoon, movie and song references to be found.]

——–

If ANYONE reading this–as I am enclosing it in my blog–has a means of contacting Tay, let me know. I can email you the video(s) I have not been able to post here (with my current “account settings”), and then you may either post them in your (YouTube) space or pass them to her, and I will be very grateful to you for your assistance. Mind you, the smallest video is roughly 3 MB in size and just a one-minute smile…while the more glorious ones, set to music and sprinkled with special effects, are 21-45 MB, depending upon upload quality, I guess. If that is too big for any email–as is possible–then, perhaps, I can craft a CD-ROM and “snail mail” my creation(s).

——–

Side A

Tay? Honey? I need a moment of your precious time…to tell you what’s been on my mind and in my heart.

[Table 13! Order up!]
[Tay Swift Soup. It’s Mm-Mm good. {She’s a hot dish.}]

<–I’m not sure why I felt the need to associate you with hot soup (and an old commercial tag line)…but I was in a bit of a silly mood. And, in an odd way, you are a sort of (attractive) comfort (food).–<<<

I don’t want to *serve* you some tripe about being your biggest fan…because I’m not. I like a few of your songs and think you are stunning.

<–Around this point, Elton John sings that resonating line about having a face that cannot hide well, little money and big aspirations. This is a line I imagine us both saying at some point. [Though, in your case, I cannot be sure about the money detail.]

I like to think I do okay with hiding my face. And, even in the small instances I’ve seen of you online, I see you trying your own way (which also plays a part in my selection of this “costume”). Obviously, you’ve been sufficiently caught, considering how these tabloid-photography mosquitoes are. But, the face I have a hard time hiding is my feelings, even if people claim I am hard to read. When I let them out, my feelings can be quite a force of nature. Or, in this instance, they’re like the side effects of a non-alcoholic intoxication, getting carried away with a desire.

And, I could spend countless hours conjuring up fantasies of what I’d like to do with and for you. All I’ve designed so far is just a sampler. But, I guess, I must curb my enthusiasm until some of those fantasies become realities, lest I really get carried away and accomplish nothing.–<<<

[I’m a Sagittarius cat!]

I don’t want to *pussyfoot.* But, I’m a socially timid guy trying to reach a star in this hazardous world. [I am not eager to be just another YouTube spectacle.]

<–I know others have successfully reached you via YouTube presentations (possibly just the lucky few to get turned into tiny broadcast news stories). And, I wouldn’t mind someone with an account featuring one or more of my videos for me, just to reach you. But, I am so sick of hearing about LIKES and VIEWS in the news as if such numbers mean anything. And, if recent news of deaths related to the pursuit of such fame isn’t enough to confirm some of my discontent feelings? For me to risk exposing myself on camera for a chance–not a guarantee–to make the kind genuine connection I seek and not just look like some drooling freak/fan…is it worth it? If I am not regularly using a YouTube account for anything productive…if it’s not part of some business…it’s just costing me money and fueling impulsive audiences like certain stores fuel impulse shopping; and that’s no good. Not everyone posting videos becomes the superstars seen on the news and talent shows; it’s just the latest “panic” spreading like the old “funniest home videos” race-to-fame-and-a-tiny-fortune. And, I am not yet comfortable, as an adult, doing something I might have dared to do as a kid with just a tape recorder to record his silly performances.–<<<

<–Then Elton sings that line about attempting a sculpture of his love interest. While I share his pessimism about the result, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try. When my creative juices get going…and when there is a glimmer of hope they will serve a righteous purpose…there’s no telling what I will all create. This whole presentation is likely just an appetizer.–<<<

Even now, I am a little parched. Don’t leave me low and dry. But, I imagine you being like an oasis.

I think of you as a breath of fresh air…

…refreshing rain…

…or dazzling sunshine…

…day…

…or night…

…you mess with my tides.

When I’m down, one look at your smiling face can pick me up. And, when I’m up, one tabloid about you can bring me down.

<–The Sagittarius truth. Attributed to your “fire,” your face can light up my day. And, one blurb about you with some other guy can derail my schedule.–<<<

Tay, I want to fall into your arms and rustle your branches.

[What happened to my favorite tree?!]
[Dunno. I’m as *stumped* as you.]

I don’t ever want to bring you down…unless we’re being playful…or you threaten my spirit.

<–And, to threaten my spirit harshly enough to earn retaliation worth any concern, you’d have to blatantly do or say something I’ve identified as strongly disliked. I’m generally non-violent, preferring to attack the same way I honor, creatively (similar to your tactic–if it is a tactic–for turning ugly feelings into a song). Well, as I hate repeating myself, you can read more about this in my blog.–<<<

You may not be a cut above the rest. But, you’d be one hot present under the Christmas tree.

<–This is both a bit of a tree joke and a way of saying I may be so infatuated with what I think of you, Tay, that I could be blind to an unpleasant truth I have yet to learn. In the first frame, two hikers find a favored tree missing from the forest; in the second, that tree is standing over a pile of presents. So many lovers spill lavish words and make lofty claims about their partners being the prettiest or best something, only for the relationship to fall apart when someone just as pretty or “better” comes along. I think you’re stunning. I think you are just scratching the surface of your talents and capacity to influence the world. But, can I confirm you are the best of anything in the world? Truthfully, no.–<<<

<–Any guesses about why I make several references to wood/trees?–<<<

[*Gasp* I’m the luckiest (older) boy in the world!]

I may not know where you are or where you’re going.

[Zelda?]

But, I want to travel with you…around this world…and throughout the universe.

When you need to venture on your own, I hope you enjoy yourself.
And, when you’re coming around the mountain, I wanna meet you there.

<–A Sagittarius needs a certain amount of freedom/personal space; and I want to be sure I respect that (and am likewise respected). I also want to be a welcome face when you return from any venture that separates us; welcome back and let’s celebrate. This is a sample of my effort to follow the Golden Rule.–<<<

[It’s up to you, Tay! But, would you please contact Writingbolt? I’m tryin’ to sleep, here!]
[Shut up! He’s confessing these feelings his way!]
[New York! New-ew-ew Yorrrrk!]

I wanna wake up…in a city…that never sleeps…because we kept them up all night with our *shared energy.*

[Uuuh. Miss Swift? There is a charming man at the front gate who appears to have fainted from walking here just to speak with you.]

And, I will walk a thousand miles just to be the man who falls down at your door.

Because, there’s a fire in your eyes. And, when it’s gone, I want s’more.

I want to write songs with and for you. I want to get creative with you for as long as we live.

[I see love in our stars. Ooh! Is that Jupiter?]
[Arrow points to the costume I picked out which you could rock. A costume soon to be identified if you don’t already know it.]

I want us to howl at the moon because we are madly in love.
I want to share a lifetime of slumber and costume parties.

And, I want you to light up my life. [But, a big part of that requires your help to bring us together.]

But, then again, I hardly know you! I could be totally wrong. And, if I am…if I have you completely wrong…..

[Is this the forest of true love?]
[Leaf me alone! You’re barking up the wrong tree!]

<–Again, could I just be overly infatuated, considering I haven’t actually spent any time with you in person? And, could what I’ve learned with astrology be wrong? And, what if my message comes at a bad time? When you are otherwise…well, I am sure you can finish that sentence.

…Then this is one *honey* of a WOOPS! [Now, you see Swifty Honey, a variation of the anime heroine Cutey/Cutie Honey.]

[Now you know; and knowing is half the battle.]

Happy birthday, Sunshine.

Sincerely, your secretive admirer, Writingbolt

[Awoooo! She’s not a complicated monster. She just wants a lifetime of unconventional lovin’ with Writingbolt.]
[Swift!]
[Darn tootin’.]

Don’t be a monster in my closet…
[…Unless you’re engaging me in passionate, freaky sex for the rest of our lives.]

<–Or, if you need a better understanding of that bit…
First, “The Monster in my Closet” is a title given to something you, Tay, and I have both written (though your project surely varies from mine).
Second, if someone is going to haunt my closet, I don’t want them to make me miserable. If your “monster” was someone who violated you, I am speechless. My “monster” is a sexual fantasy linked to a dream (or nightmare) I had as a child. I don’t want some past love to make me linger with regret. I want that secret visitor, monster or otherwise, to be a constant source of pleasure.–<<<

But, if you just want to hug, kiss and hold hands while we explore the universe, I can *eggroll* with that. 🙂

<–Translation: Not everyone has to be a passionate sex fiend. And, romance–though I wish to use a word that is not associated with the Roman Empire–does not need to be an endangered art. Great love can be experienced on a spiritual level, too. And…I am partial to the Far East and eggrolls, just in case we have (American) Chinese food for dinner.–<<<

To learn more about the socially timid bachelor and artist known as Writingbolt, contact him via email, using one or both of the provided methods on his contact page. Once he trusts you with this, he will open the doors to phone calls and other means of contact.

You may also find useful details by reading and/or looking at some of his blog postings here at WordPress, including aspirations for the love of his life and a few personal details that managed to escape his concern for privacy and safety.

The preceding was a thirty-page* love lett–er, birthday card to the lovely Taylor Alison Swift. Her photo and all artwork, aside from editing, were provided by internet search and cartoons painstakingly clipped by Writingbolt, pieced together into this request for a blissful relationship. If the artist is misguided or too late with his request, please inform him on how to reach Miss Swift…

*Can you guess why this was designed to include thirty pages?

Or, he will just do his best to recover and move on with his life.

<–Just to be clear…that means I am looking for a way to accurately reach you, Tay, with this message. If WordPress isn’t sufficient, I am asking for assistance. And, if there is something wrong with the message or its timing (you know what I mean), then I guess I just have to suck it up and get on with my life. I will try my best to hold my head up high and continue to honor you in my creative endeavors (as long as I don’t make myself sick).–<<<

———-

Side B

[In this variation of the previous, new thoughts pop up over the previous captions, and some images are replaced with other artworks and added effects. It’s sort of like a commentary playing over a DVD movie.]

Or, better yet, let me show you how you’ve inspired me and consume a large portion of my creative energy, since 2009.

Actually, I’ve only recently started putting your face into digital art.

[That Face]

<–What I failed to include (or cut so you wouldn’t have to pause the video to read long paragraphs at every frame) was how I’ve dabbled with pencil sketches (portraits) over the years and used your love story song, once, in an effort to play Cupid for someone. I’ve also had you in mind while crafting my own ideas for a modern Jem and the Holograms movie and writing my first books; not novels, mind you, but books. Though, I did sort of have you in mind when designing a particularly holy character in a mini-series I am still struggling to complete. But, I didn’t get the sudden urge to create so much digital art until I found the courage to post a birthday letter/greeting on my blog. These are mostly photo manipulations, something I haven’t done in years due to…–<<<

An old fear, something few, I doubt, would understand, repressed the urge for a long time.

<–I won’t adequately explain this without cracking a dam of emotion. And, I’d prefer to do that only when I feel comfortable in the company of a trusted soul. I have a feeling saying certain things makes them happen. I also have this feeling certain events have already taken place in a way that causes me to experience unpleasant (to say the least) deja vu. In my effort to counter the negative possibilities, I am crafting and voicing pleasant fantasies as one might put on a “vision board.”–<<<

But, your love story (song) lit a torch, nearly a decade ago.

<–As I just said, I started cooking with creative ideas around 2009. And, I continue to have moments when my thoughts turn to you.–<<<

[Tea with Taylor in the Morning]

<–Me imagining a Skype chat with you while sharing cups of tea, somewhat inspired by a brief segment featured on the TV series Community.–<<<

A torch that has been burning…

…through tabloid stunners and short-lived relationships…

…and kept on burning up until this day…

[I Got a Letter, Jem-esque song lyrics by Writingbolt]

…when I finally found a little song in my heart…

…and a video to compose for another.

<–Just to clarify, I was picturing you as Jerrica Benton from the Jem cartoons when the song “I Got a Letter” popped into my mind. And then, as I considered turning my vast collection of portrait/photo-manipulation variations into a video compilation, I was drawn to Elton John’s “Your Song.” It may be that easy for me to write a song. Even if it’s just a small “tease” of a song, you might say, “Why don’t you (take lessons and) write more of your own songs?” But, I have less desire to write for myself than I would, knowing I had someone valued to fill my heart. And, together, who knows what we could create……that seems to be a crutch of mine. I’m both selfish for limiting what I do until I get something in return…and selfless when I find myself desiring someone or happy to be in their company. Put a smile on my face, and you’ll likely get a hundred in return. And, if I find you in need of a smile, I’ll likely make an effort to put one on your face. But, don’t expect me to entertain you or do anything on my own unless I say I will do it. And, even then, can I guarantee I’ll follow through? Like a building that withstands centuries, I need a good foundation of love and trust to build myself up and become a better factory…or fruitful tree.–<<<

If you’re not a fan of seeing your face this way, forgive my creative choice.

<–Not everyone appreciates seeing their face being added to a cartoon (particularly a shapely anime) character. ‘Just checking. Because, as the caption reads: I don’t ever want to bring you down.–<<<

I just had a moment when I pictured you as a heroine.

And, this character came to mind. Not for what she is (technically, an android built by a man who lost his daughter and wanted to preserve her beauty as well as create a heroic female figure to fight the encroaching darkness in his world) but for her beauty and what she does.

You hear the calls of others and rush to help them.

You’re not just a musician. You’re a traveling muse and activist, in your own small way.

So, now I’m calling.

And, I pray you’ll answer.

Will you be my heroine?

[Swifty Honey…with a freshly lit torch and a “dynamite” manga (comic book) page that reflects my feelings.]

I’m not some sick child on his deathbed or charity trying to feed a nation.

I’m just a man, an artist, looking at a beautiful woman, wishing he could get to know her better.

<–That’s not exactly great English for a yet-budding author, but it came out the way it did. And, I’m sticking with that.–<<<

A face and a spirit that can improve the world better than some of the most famous artists. And, I want to honor and work with you.

<–I’ll take a favorable portrait of you over the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo, any day.–<<<

[A one-year subscription to Rattle and Hum magazine, a blend of astrology and music in a fantasy magazine composed by you and I, featuring some columns with witty references to your favorite color and certain songs.]
[A silhouette image for a possible tour poster or just a computer’s “wallpaper,” featuring one of those acoustic guitars with your name on it.]

[Thanks, Elton John. It’s still *your song.* But, it works nicely, here.]

[A possible new (vinyl record) album cover, titled Red-Velvet Lover, a play on the band Velvet Revolver (not a personal favorite, just a name that tickled a funny nerve while thinking of writing music for you), referring to your preference for red and an image I found of you rocking a pair of red velvet boots. Also, a play on RCA Records–whether or not you associate with them–and a touch of astrology.]
[A 1970s-ish talk-show image for commercial breaks, similar to what you’d see on the old Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin shows, featuring three different looks I have seen you sport.]
[A cover for a novel I imagine us writing together. Do you like my “pen name?”]
[A portrait that includes 13 words I associate with you; 13 in regards to the day you were born.]

Nearly a gigabyte of Taylor Swift artworks and videos? Am I sick?

<–I get self-conscious, at times, wondering if I am becoming inappropriately obsessed. I’ve received quite a bit of criticism, over the years, about my personal feelings/interests. I feel all of my creative energy would be better put to use in an existent relationship and/or serving some active purpose. But, at the moment, and too often, it’s spent in a daydream, wishful thinking. I’m terrible at “breaking the ice” (at least, in the public eye). I hate just spinning my tires. But, fears get in my way and slow me down. I am quite alone and lonely with my feelings. If such whims took no time, at all, and could be made in a flash, this might seem easy to pass off as inexpensive as a casually sent greeting card or memo. But, I have really been getting sucked into this. I’m trying to finish writing a book, and this happens. And then there’s that deja vu feeling that haunts me. It would be nice to finally, someday, know someone who can take all I can give and make it feel worthwhile, to satisfy my creative spirit with gratitude and purpose.–<<<

Happy birthday, Sunshine.

Sincerely, your secretive admirer, Writingbolt (AP)

[An image of you as Adora from the 1980s She-Ra cartoon, thinking about (me), another blonde heroine you could fit. Someone off-screen asks who is the mystery man whispering in your woods. That’s a little joke about the forest the heroes (in that cartoon) defended.]
[Swifty Honey with a mob of cartoon cats; just me thinking of your interest in/preference for cats.]
[An image of you as Jerrica Benton from the 1985 Jem cartoon, receiving a letter…the inspiration for “I Got a Letter.” I was rather pleased with my effort to recreate the audio-tape-ribbon portions, as was common on Jem product packaging.]
[An image of you as Princess Zelda from the Legend of Zelda video games; except you are the beauty just starting to form your legend. Note the snake print and “Triforce” of guitar picks.]
[Another possible record album for you, titled “My Tay on the Highway,” a collection of songs to keep people entertained on road trips, featuring Swifty Honey with a *red* Jeep.]
[An image of you a few years into the future, running for President of My Heart.]
[And, lastly, a second image of you as Jerrica Benton…just another wishful thought. :)]

[And, a disclaimer for anyone other than Tay reading/watching (the video): If you are watching this, please pass the message any way you can to reach Taylor Alison Swift. And, thank you.]

As suggested, you may–and I hope you will–reach me via email via one of the methods provided on my Contact Me page (here) at WordPress. If you have any questions about myself, my creative output and/or just about anything on your mind, I am happy to answer them (in private). I may not have all the answers, but I have plenty of thoughts and opinions. 😀

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Lengthy Disclaimer #??:  I know I’m not the only obsessing Taylor Alison Swift fan to use her image this way.  But, I’m also not the average fan…not exactly a super-fan.  Some of you know this, already…well, if you’ve been truly following my emotional tides.  I don’t study her so closely that I know her favorite everything.  I don’t subscribe to the newsletters and follow her like the camera folks that stalk her every move.  [How DOES one live like that?]

I know she likes red, cats, responding to the calls of others (though I am not sure what exactly determines who gets a response), handbags that don’t exactly sit on her long, lean arms right and enough daringly short outfits to attract every mosquito in the world and defy any concern for aging for years to come (with no need to compete with the likes of Jennifer Lopez, as some images give me the impression).  I also know what I like and don’t like, obviously, as much about her; I know what makes me think she is quite awesome and a worthy partner to challenge, complement and inspire me, as I would do the same, I think, for her.  I’ve touched on some of that, previously, and don’t want to repeat much.  I know it’s not healthy to dwell so much on someone you’ve never met, never spoken with and may never get to know as personally as you’d like.  [‘Still crossing my fingers!]  But, truth be told, she keeps getting into my head!  And, the last thing I want to do is make that sound the least bit creepy.  But, in a way, it IS a bit creepy.

For whatever reason, I had another “episode” and found myself obsessively crafting variations on these concepts.  They swallowed up a rather large chunk of time over the past few days.  But, I wasn’t having much luck crafting anything else.  As I already said, writer’s block has been shutting me down (for weeks).  And, I haven’t had much ambition to create any (useless) art for a while.  I’ve lost my practicing spark, again.  But, thinking of famous people who have captured a piece of my heart, namely Tay (as I continue to call her, affectionately), gave me a little drive to create…something.  I’m just not sure how to classify this stuff without putting myself down.

And, thinking about time passing me by, as I am sure she is thinking, too, I got to thinking about weighing these…maybe silly aspirations for the pursuit of any kind of relationship.  How much longer before the next love interest on my lofty list ties the knot?  [I had planned on posting something about one who recently got married, because it really got under my skin…but I have resisted, as I felt it wouldn’t accomplish much.]  It’s a really difficult thing for me to do, separating fantasy from reality.  It’s painful and uncertain.  I mean, if I am going to be true to my Sagittarius (or not so Sagittarius) roots, I have to believe anything is possible.  Yet, doubt, fear and a trail of tabloids have a “funny” way of bringing me down.  So, which way do I go?  All I can do, for now, is put what I have “out there.”  Right?  And, I have the feeling this isn’t the best place.  But, that’s me, too, I guess.  I don’t pick the best picnic spots.

In short–ha–I simply hope these creations serve a valid purpose and don’t just look like obsessive nonsense.  I’m considering them items on a sort of “vision board.”  I’m speaking to the universe which speaks to me.  Hear me, universe?  I’m calling out to someone I value for some reason even though we’ve had no real contact.  And, if you’re kind, you’ll help me make the right contact…if it’s meant to be…if I’m not just under some spell like one who falls in love with a character only to find the actress who played that character is nothing like the latter and thus defeats the interest.  Better to have loved and lost than never to have had the chance to love, at all, right?  Well, have I had the chance to love?  Is this the love I am to lose before I even hold her hand?

 

25
Jan
19

Applaud AFTER the Performance, Talk-Show Morons

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Have I mentioned how stupid talk shows (and a certain “celebrity dancing” show) can be…when they interrupt musical performances with injected “audience participation?”

Particularly “late night” talk shows that terribly interview a dwindling number of guests before featuring some musical performance which rarely gets the respect it deserves. And, that’s saying something when you see a very…unique band perform on a show hosted by a guy in a suit and tie, giving the *impression* that the show is “straight-laced.” [In other words, a screeching rock or rap group makes a white guy turn blinding-ly white in less than two minutes, and that’s not a good thing.]

But, what I am particularly bothered by at this moment is how a singer or band performs…with lousy accoustics…only to be blind-sided by a blast of applause and/or cheering, as if the staff of the show are flashing their APPLAUSE signs during the performances. If that’s what is really going on, I cannot get mad or nauseous enough to express my feelings. That is just insanely stupid. That’s like making-a-naked-dash-into-fire or shouting-in-a-library-while-standing-beside-a-sign-that-requests-silence…stupid.

Have you ever seen a musical and heard people applaud WHILE someone is singing? I could understand if it was a Whitney Houston moment and the performer hit some particular high or long note to show off. But, during some un-exceptional portion of the song?…just out-of-the-blue applause? Ridiculous.

If some holiday carolers came to my front door and started singing Silent Night, I don’t want a mob of spectators suddenly applauding during the chorus. I want to hear the performers sing.

I’m looking at you, Jimmy Corden, with your improvisational pot-baked band and excessively “touchy” interaction with guests. I’ve stopped watching most musical performances because of this problem.  [Hiii, Hagar.  🙂  You’re still okay in my book.]

I first noticed the problem with Dancing with the Stars, the modern replacement for that 1980s fad, Circus of the Stars (and its “battle” cousins), a poor attempt to put lesser-and-lesser known faces in the spotlight (until it’s no longer the stars but everyday people looking to learn how to dance on the show, like a televised dance class, if they got a fair chance to learn instead of boasting a grueling schedule littered with injuries/sickness and “drama” before leaving way too soon to make any decent lesson stick) from the ABC branch of the Disney Empire/Monopoly, a show that deserves an award for its lighting effects more than any other contribution.

Whether its during a 2-minute (or less) dance or some guest singer’s performance, there will be some oddly timed reaction from the audience. AND, IT’S SO ANNOYING!

So, if you are so fortunate to get some “free” tickets to any of these glitzy, Disney spare-no-expense (Jurassic Park reference) shows…and you see some flashing sign or feel a cattle prod under your seat pushing you to applaud or cheer, check yourself. And, if it’s not even you making the noise…if that’s some recording playing over the performance…feel sorry for yourselves.

And, shame on you, networks, for airing that crap, for contributing to the pollution of performers just trying to get some exposure. You are one Impractical Joker away from pooping in public and getting some of that crap on your own faces. You are worse than a flatulant rubber balloon or an electronic fart simulator.

Now, excuse me while I go wash the filth from my mouth. I feel like a disgusting James Brown without my cape. I feel…not good.

25
Jan
19

Perform Yourself! Background Dancers Suck.

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Have I mentioned how background dancers annoy me? I’m quite sure this isn’t the first time I’ve felt the need to spout off about them. Cool as they may try to be, pretty as some may be, what sense do they make? And, when did this become a contageous problem? What ever happened to performers having to stop their show to get extra people off the stage?

If someone I genuinely like to hear sing has background dancers, I am inclined to turn away. I just can’t stand them nor can I understand the point of them.

If I want to watch people dance, I’ll go to a ballroom or buy a ticket to some bigger production with sole focus on dancing to music.

If someone giving a speech had a bunch of people shaking their butts next to the podium, would that make you like the orator more? Would you even hear most of what he or she says? And, what would the dancers be “saying” to enhance the speech?

I can just see a priest giving his Sunday sermon with a “choir” of dancers moving around him. I am so sure people coming to pray and hear “the good word” would appreciate that performance. I am also sure more people would be talking about the dancers than the sermon itself…which is so wrong.

I am not a fan of rap. And, if a rapper–who tries to recite a novel in a matter of minutes–has background dancers, I am not going to grasp an ounce of the “gold” they are supposedly spewing. And, I am certainly not going to buy their albums…because no magic is going to reproduce the dancing balloon butts that stole my focus…unless we’re talking about holograms. But, then, am I buying a hologram projection of pop-o-matic butt action or music I care to hear in the background of my life?

A half-dozen or more Magic-Mike-and-Ike extras are not an improvement to anyone’s performance…with the small exception of being a sports star with his or her own entourage of cheerleaders. And, even that would be distracting.

In fact, if you are dictionary-challenged, the definition of “distraction” includes a stage and a performer outnumbered by people doing something other than what the performer is doing.

[It’s like playing a video game with cheerleaders or spectators choosing to walk in front of the TV screen. How am I supposed to see what I am doing? How am I supposed to concentrate while you think you are boosting my morale? I don’t even like people talking while I am focusing on a video game; it’s very distracting. And, I only get more stressed out and upset when I lose while distracted versus losing from my own lack of skill. I cannot talk and play. So, don’t talk while I am playing…unless we’re both playing and it’s a silly game meant to be fun.

I really miss the old Atari days of two people sitting to play a simple game for points. The games never demanded more than maybe ten minutes apiece, even if you played more than a dozen games and burned through a few hours. No codes or other devices were required. And, the games were nowhere near as violent as too many modern street-crime and warfront simulators are. The concern for warping minds was nothing compared to what it is now. But, I am drifting off the subject.]

**If background dancers need to share the stage, how about having them introduce an act or follow a performance like an intermission? That would actually enhance a performer’s appeal. Make the background a foreground or aftershock to keep the good vibes going. Don’t overlap talents…if that can even be called a talent.**

Back in the day of the sequin-gloved superstar known as Michael Jackson, before things got really sad and weird with him, turning that high-voiced little black boy into a pale, disfigured scapegoat, if he had other dancers with him on stage, they moved like a unit. Or, it was more like a musical with various people doing different things on one stage. But, I cannot recall ever feeling as distracted and annoyed as I am now. I remember watching Lionel Ritchie videos, with so many colorful people moving around him, and not feeling nearly as bothered as I am, today.

[However, I was never a fan of collaborations like Run DMC and Aerosmith. It was fun for lip-synching at talent shows. But, I did not enjoy listening to that noise as much as I favored Billy Joel or Huey Lewis and the News.]

There is just something different about this modern plague of background dancers that makes me want to scream.

If you’re the main attraction on a stage, own it. Don’t share it (unless it’s a duet/group performance). And, let the “sideshow” lead the parade or cover your exit.




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