Don’t You Remember? You Told Me You Loved Me, Baby.
Two hours at the studio. Niara drilled our Tech N9ne and Traxamillion pieces. At the company I dance for, I’m on two separate troups: Senior Hip-Hop, and Promotions. We’ve been hammering out our promotions piece for weeks, preparing for tomorrow’s promo at Boulder High School. I’m not nervous, even though I was put in the piece last minute, disregarding the fact that I didn’t know much of the choreography. I learned it of course, however I believe a failure to plan is a plan for failure. I’ll just have to throw it down, and work it out.
My insurance company gave me a rental car while Rhoda, was in the shop. It’s a 2008 Nissan Sentra. Beautiful car, but it doesn’t have an iPod hook up like my trusty Jeep does. I was forced into the depths of my bedroom to dig out old mix CD’s, so I wasn’t forced to listen to the… *cough* …radio.
After dusting off an old CD case, I managed to find some semi-decent mixes from the past. My first (and favorite) roommate Bri and I, used to always make mixes for each other, and the ones that we cared about. When I was dating Brady, I would make them for him every month, on our “anniversary”.
At the first stop light home from leaving the studio, I opened my CD case to find something new to listen to. In the very back, there was a slip of folded paper reading “A Mixed Tape For You”. As I flipped that last page, I felt that there was a CD inside. Curious, I pulled it out, and slipped it in the stereo.
It was the first mix anyone had ever made for me. I remember Brady giving it to me at school, on our “second anniversary”. (I use quotes, because you can’t really call it an anniversary. Young love likes to mark the periods of their relationship. We’ve all been through it.) It was a mix of alternative rock songs, that he felt applied to us. Well, that’s what I gathered, by listening to the lyrics of each song.
As I sped up Arapahoe, one of the lyrics to the song said,” How can you sleep, knowing that I love you so? How can you sleep without me next to you?” I felt a hint of tears well in my eyes, for a reason otherwise expected. Instead of crying over “lost” love, I felt the most overwhelming sensation of joy, just remembering how it felt to have someone love you so deeply. It was almost as if I was lying in my bed, having my hair stroked as I fell asleep, after a terrible night at my junior prom.
As the songs continued, Sonic Youth sang,” Don’t you remember you told me you loved me, baby-” “…Loneliness is such a sad affair, I can’t wait to see you again.” All I could do is smile to myself because it felt so refreshing to be reminded, if only for a brief few moments, what it felt like to have someone care for you so whole heartedly. Feeling a connection with another human being like that, having such a genuine love for someone other than yourself, is beautiful. No matter how short lived it may be.
Don’t read into it, like I’m all upset about an ex boyfriend. It's not like that one bit. I’m not going to be some depressed gay guy, crying about why he’s single. I was just taken aback for a moment, and had to appreciate the emotional flashback. If you’ve never felt that way about someone, than you won’t be able to relate to this at all. However, for the few who do, you know it’s moments like those, that make the world that much more beautiful, and life that much more worth it.
It was a great way to end my evening.
Matty B.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
"Freakshow [Freak] Freakshow, We Can Give 'Em A-"
Why anyone would put on the façade that they were straight, is beyond me. Being straight is boring. Straight men are all the same. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to have sex with them. You have a long-term relationship with 100 men, who all think and look the same. It’s the perfect relationship. Who would want to pretend that they were boring, anyways? Gay men have something naturally, that the rest of the world has to earn: a ferocity.
Lets be honest here. A woman has to act, look, dress, and be the part. Gay men watch “To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything,” throw on an otherwise tacky boa, and suddenly Tyra Banks screams about how fierce they are. I personally think that it takes a certain finesse to be fierce. You have to dedicate yourself to exuding ferocity. It’s no part-time job. The minute you put yourself out there, people are going to rag on you, talk shit, and basically try to tear you down the best they can: your friends, your foes, and everyone in between. Prepare for the storm, because it can get cold. However, it also can result in a shower of compliments, and rainstorm of men. It’s a love/hate situation.
I was at Club Vinyl recently with my favorite gay Jeff, and when I got home, this sorry excuse of a homosexual named “Bailey Dolce” posted a bulletin on myspace, explaining how he saw me at the club, trash talked me, and said that I should go home and wash my face. In reality, I had never even met this child, nor did he come up to me. My friends think he was jealous of my flawless complexion, and felt he needed to distract from his poor use of Cover Girl foundation, by dissing on my flawless M.A.C. face.
On the other hand, Denver Underground took my photo (more than a few times), I became friends with the door girl Kellie (who upon meeting Jeff and I, immediately put us on the VIP List), met a really cool group of guys and girls, and danced the night away to a killer DJ, with my favorite boy.
You have to learn to take the good with the bad. As Samantha (Kim Cattrall) says on ‘Sex and the City’, “ They way to measure the quality of your life, is at the end of the day when you look in the mirror, are you smiling or frowning?”
After I washed my face, pulled my hair back, and settled into bed, I whispered to Jeff goodnight. He whispered goodnight back, I hugged him, and turned away.
I was smiling.
It takes a certain kind of person to be able to block out the bad, and focus on the good. Frankly, my world can come crashing down, but if I can manage an honest smile at the end of the day, I know everything will be okay. However, if I can’t manage that smile, I can at least have a flawless face to camouflage it.
Matty B.
Why anyone would put on the façade that they were straight, is beyond me. Being straight is boring. Straight men are all the same. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to have sex with them. You have a long-term relationship with 100 men, who all think and look the same. It’s the perfect relationship. Who would want to pretend that they were boring, anyways? Gay men have something naturally, that the rest of the world has to earn: a ferocity.
Lets be honest here. A woman has to act, look, dress, and be the part. Gay men watch “To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything,” throw on an otherwise tacky boa, and suddenly Tyra Banks screams about how fierce they are. I personally think that it takes a certain finesse to be fierce. You have to dedicate yourself to exuding ferocity. It’s no part-time job. The minute you put yourself out there, people are going to rag on you, talk shit, and basically try to tear you down the best they can: your friends, your foes, and everyone in between. Prepare for the storm, because it can get cold. However, it also can result in a shower of compliments, and rainstorm of men. It’s a love/hate situation.
I was at Club Vinyl recently with my favorite gay Jeff, and when I got home, this sorry excuse of a homosexual named “Bailey Dolce” posted a bulletin on myspace, explaining how he saw me at the club, trash talked me, and said that I should go home and wash my face. In reality, I had never even met this child, nor did he come up to me. My friends think he was jealous of my flawless complexion, and felt he needed to distract from his poor use of Cover Girl foundation, by dissing on my flawless M.A.C. face.
On the other hand, Denver Underground took my photo (more than a few times), I became friends with the door girl Kellie (who upon meeting Jeff and I, immediately put us on the VIP List), met a really cool group of guys and girls, and danced the night away to a killer DJ, with my favorite boy.
You have to learn to take the good with the bad. As Samantha (Kim Cattrall) says on ‘Sex and the City’, “ They way to measure the quality of your life, is at the end of the day when you look in the mirror, are you smiling or frowning?”
After I washed my face, pulled my hair back, and settled into bed, I whispered to Jeff goodnight. He whispered goodnight back, I hugged him, and turned away.
I was smiling.
It takes a certain kind of person to be able to block out the bad, and focus on the good. Frankly, my world can come crashing down, but if I can manage an honest smile at the end of the day, I know everything will be okay. However, if I can’t manage that smile, I can at least have a flawless face to camouflage it.
Matty B.
Chapter Two: Love. Learn. Laugh.
It has been a very long, cold, and dreary winter. The sky was clouded with gray misery, that reflected on the faces of the citizens, living below. I spent the long cold months watching independent films, listening to Kimya Dawson, and searching for something new.
My entire life, I have always had some sort of goal. When I was a child, it was to get away from my delusional mother. At fifteen, I packed a duffle bag, and left with no regret. When I was in high school, it was to get into a college, and move to Denver. At seventeen, I started attending the Art Institute of Colorado, and moved downtown. A few months after I turned 18, my college started fucking with me, making me jump through hoops to stay a student there. My roommate and I had a very rocky relationship. I woke up one morning, quit my job, moved out, and dropped out of college.
Five months later, I’m living with my best and oldest friend Vyckee, (who I call mom, even though she isn’t) am unemployed, and spending three hours a day, four days a week, dancing for an Independent Dance Company in Boulder. I’ve completely left my manic life behind, and went back to my roots: the studio.
I spent my childhood escaping my life by dancing for various companies around the Denver Metro area. From the age of 4, I was taking ballet classes from Frau Schmitt three days a week. I don’t know what it is, but it brings takes me home. The long hours, the dieting, the muscles so sore, you wake up unable to walk; it frees my mind.
I’ve spent the past few months trying to focus on what I want out of my life. Do I want to pursue a college degree? If so, where do I want to go? I’ve already found that an alternative institution wasn’t the right fit for me. Would I even be able to get into a public university such as CU? Would I live in the dorms? Would I have the ability to work, and go to school? What would I do about my friends? Would I get to see them? Who would I live with? How would I pay for it? What the fuck am I doing with my life?!
Suddenly my world is spinning so fast, I don’t know which way is up. I’m completely overwhelmed, and I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. I slip on a pair of converse, grab my duffle bag, get in my Jeep, and fly down Arapahoe, parking illegally in front of the studio. I get out, fly through the front door, drop my bag, plug my iPod into the sound system, and let go.
Three hours later, I get back into my Jeep, turn on some Freezepop, and drive home, re-centered.
I’m not quite sure exactly what my life’s plans are. However, I feel that that adds to my charm. Not quite sure what I’m doing, but there is a few things in life that bring me back down.
I figure as long as I don’t take anything (or anyone) too seriously, continue to surround myself with people that I enjoy being with, as I walk my path, it will begin to form, and show it’s self.
Well, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
Matty B.
It has been a very long, cold, and dreary winter. The sky was clouded with gray misery, that reflected on the faces of the citizens, living below. I spent the long cold months watching independent films, listening to Kimya Dawson, and searching for something new.
My entire life, I have always had some sort of goal. When I was a child, it was to get away from my delusional mother. At fifteen, I packed a duffle bag, and left with no regret. When I was in high school, it was to get into a college, and move to Denver. At seventeen, I started attending the Art Institute of Colorado, and moved downtown. A few months after I turned 18, my college started fucking with me, making me jump through hoops to stay a student there. My roommate and I had a very rocky relationship. I woke up one morning, quit my job, moved out, and dropped out of college.
Five months later, I’m living with my best and oldest friend Vyckee, (who I call mom, even though she isn’t) am unemployed, and spending three hours a day, four days a week, dancing for an Independent Dance Company in Boulder. I’ve completely left my manic life behind, and went back to my roots: the studio.
I spent my childhood escaping my life by dancing for various companies around the Denver Metro area. From the age of 4, I was taking ballet classes from Frau Schmitt three days a week. I don’t know what it is, but it brings takes me home. The long hours, the dieting, the muscles so sore, you wake up unable to walk; it frees my mind.
I’ve spent the past few months trying to focus on what I want out of my life. Do I want to pursue a college degree? If so, where do I want to go? I’ve already found that an alternative institution wasn’t the right fit for me. Would I even be able to get into a public university such as CU? Would I live in the dorms? Would I have the ability to work, and go to school? What would I do about my friends? Would I get to see them? Who would I live with? How would I pay for it? What the fuck am I doing with my life?!
Suddenly my world is spinning so fast, I don’t know which way is up. I’m completely overwhelmed, and I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. I slip on a pair of converse, grab my duffle bag, get in my Jeep, and fly down Arapahoe, parking illegally in front of the studio. I get out, fly through the front door, drop my bag, plug my iPod into the sound system, and let go.
Three hours later, I get back into my Jeep, turn on some Freezepop, and drive home, re-centered.
I’m not quite sure exactly what my life’s plans are. However, I feel that that adds to my charm. Not quite sure what I’m doing, but there is a few things in life that bring me back down.
I figure as long as I don’t take anything (or anyone) too seriously, continue to surround myself with people that I enjoy being with, as I walk my path, it will begin to form, and show it’s self.
Well, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
Matty B.
Shed Some Light, Shed Some Light On Me
It has been quite sometime since the last time I’ve posted something I’ve written. Between the animosity shown towards the way I write my blog, and the way I approach my life, I lost interest in sharing my intimate experiences with the very blunt public. Although I’ve found other sources of self expression, I haven’t ceased to write. I just haven’t posted anything.
However, the events of the past few weeks have been (as I quote my friends),” totally blog worthy.”
It seems I am back from my hiatus. Tune in, and feel free to comment.
XO
Matty B.
It has been quite sometime since the last time I’ve posted something I’ve written. Between the animosity shown towards the way I write my blog, and the way I approach my life, I lost interest in sharing my intimate experiences with the very blunt public. Although I’ve found other sources of self expression, I haven’t ceased to write. I just haven’t posted anything.
However, the events of the past few weeks have been (as I quote my friends),” totally blog worthy.”
It seems I am back from my hiatus. Tune in, and feel free to comment.
XO
Matty B.
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