Kindle Highlights...

Back in bed she folded the sheet tightly across her chest to give herself a feeling of being held…

I highlighted that quote in a favorite book because I thought I was the only one who did that on particularly challenging nights and the words soothed my heart. I'd read the novel before, but that particular night I remember pressing a button on my Kindle that showed me several other people had highlighted that passage as well...which made me feel less lonely, less freakish.

Sometimes I mark passages that are the exact opposite of my personal experience, but still deeply affect me...this is what I would think of as a fantastical dream speech that I always wished my mom had given when I tried to come out twenty three years ago. In this part of Touchwood (by Karin Kallmaker), the main character's mother is apologizing for not embracing her more in the beginning:

“I’m glad. It was hard…hard to go inside, but once I was there and I looked around at all the gay people I found myself thinking of them as different. And then it came to me that while I was there I was the one who was different. I knew then, how you—all of you must feel. Made to feel different everywhere you go. And I felt so terrible."

She pauses, then looks at her daughter with tears in her eyes (both of them are crying, actually):
 

"I don’t care about who you spend your life with as long as the person’s good to you."

My parents, especially my mom, did not react well when I tried to tell them about me decades ago. They were so upset, so full of harsh words and non-acceptance, that I grew scared and, after a week of their continuing to tell me I'd end up out of the family and go to Hell when I died, I gave in and told me I had been "mistaken."

I've tried again over the years to explain to them that I am gay, that I'm not going through a "phrase" (a twenty three year long one?) but they still believe it's a sin and say if I bring up this "nonsense" one more time they don't want to see me anymore.

When I read the scene above I started wondering if parental acceptance of adult gay children is the norm or the wonderful exception. I hear all the time about other gays and lesbians who find warm reception when they come out to their families, but I also still hear the horror stories...those whose parents tell them such horrific things as "I'd rather you were dead."

I thought all my recent misery was coming from the feelings I have for someone I shouldn't. But I realize that, even though it still hurts sometimes, it is going to get better with time and I can certainly understand and accept she cannot ever like me.

But knowing my parents are never going to change their minds and that I feel honor-bound to not be who I truly am so that I can be part of their lives..well that both saddens and weighs me down, not like my cozy comforter I sometimes pretend is one big hug, but like the anvil Wild E. Coyote was always trying to drop on Road Runner.

In the meantime I clutch to those Kindle highlights, not the ones I make as much as the ones I see underlined when I'm pausing at the same passage. Another marked section perfectly sums up the frustration and pain of unrequited love: 

Why can't I be happy just knowing her? Why do I have to want more?

Knowing there others are out there who feel the same is better than nothing...and is almost sometimes something.

It's important for us to reach out to people...we just need a little bit more kindness and empathy for each other.-Shaun Robinson, CNN


As Pat O'Brien and CNN anchor Shaun Robinson discussed suicide in relation to Robin Williams last night, each made remarks hard to forget. O'Brien called depression something "that wants to get you alone in a dark room." A few minutes later Robinson talked about how the world needs more kindness and empathy.

Both statements hit hard. I can't help but think of how many people on this earth need more kindness in their lives...and more empathy. I hear thoughtless comments about suicide (even now in 2014 when we should be more enlightened about its causes and less vocal with our judgments) and get so frustrated. 

You can't "snap out of it" when you're truly depressed and it's not "selfish" when someone truly suffering sees suicide as his or her only out. They need help, not hurtful attitudes.



 

odds and ends and more odds...

I have my 8tracks app on and am listening to the saddest songs possible. It's like having a really good cry or leeching your soul of all the bad things inside you. It's another voice saying, 'I've been where you are and I've survived. So will you." It's not quite as nice as having someone to just hold you so you feel better, but it's almost as nice...almost.



I recently discovered this website:

http://howmanyofme.com

and found it somehow fitting that there is only one person with the name of my crush...as in "there's only one wonderful you in this crazy world."

Okay, that sounds just a tad creepy (more than a tad creepy)...I really need to move on to other things...


Like this cool website that lets you know how far you can go on E when you've been holding out as long as possible on going to the gas station:

http://tankonempty.com

and this is both interesting and helpful, from today's New York Times:

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/09/your-money/how-to-thwart-hackers-from-financial-accounts.html?_r=0

And then "Come On Eileen" somehow ends up on someone's sad song playlist on 8tracks and I'm smiling...I don't think of this as sad, it's always made me feel good for some reason. What a good jolt to the system. Sometimes you really need to be thrown outside of yourself:

"I listen to Karen, and I feel less alone."

Of all the music I turn to when I need to find peace, I think the Carpenters help the most. Karen Carpenter's voice, besides being so beautiful and angelic, has a sincerity and calmness to it that really centers me. I love that, over the past 30 years, fans and critics alike continue to remember her...

This ran on the New York Times website earlier this year:

Karen Carpenter: Voice of a Lifetime

By ROB HOERBURGER

 

As a sidebar to the Riff column I wrote for this past weekend’s issue, which drew from the book I’m writing about my appreciation of the Carpenters’ music and the life events of mine it surrounded, here are six takes on Karen Carpenter’s voice. They include early reviews of Carpenters albums and posthumous nods from the likes of the film director Todd Haynes and the novelist Mary Gaitskill. Their range is a testament to hers.

‘‘I would have liked to hear Karen sing ‘Do You Know the Way to San Jose’ all the way through. The bit she does here is mighty tasty.’’ Jon Landau, Rolling Stone review of the album ‘‘Carpenters,’’ June 1971.

‘‘She manages to sound almost used in Leon Russell’s ‘This Masquerade.’ ’’ Lester Bangs, review of the album ‘‘Now and Then,’’ November 1973.

Billboard Top 5 Albums of Jan. 5, 1974:
1. Carpenters, ‘‘The Singles, 1969-1973’’
2. Elton John, ‘‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’’
3. Jim Croce, ‘‘You Don’t Mess Around With Jim’’
4. Steve Miller Band, ‘‘The Joker’’
5. Neil Diamond, ‘‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull’’

‘‘I used to oversing’’ on the earlier albums. Karen Carpenter, interview in Billboard, September 1977.

‘‘Here was this corny teenage girl . . . singing these songs with that deep, sophisticated voice.’’ From “Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story,” written and directed by Todd Haynes (1987).

‘‘Starvation was in her voice all along. That was the poignancy of it.’’ Mary Gaitskill, ‘‘Veronica’’ (2005).

And here’s one of my favorite tracks from the first Carpenters album I ever owned, “Close to You.” It highlights both Karen’s aching alto and Richard’s deft piano playing and elegant Satie-like arrangement.

 see video here:

http://6thfloor.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/01/07/karen-carpenter-voice-of-a-lifetime/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0Karen Carpenter

One of my favorite articles in recent years is this one:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/justin-sayre/karen-carpenter-in-the-ag_b_2870762.htmlKaren Carpenter in the Age of Irony

Karen Carpenter in the Age of Irony
by Justin Sayre

...And then I chose Karen Carpenter for March, and my inbox was full. Full.

Emails upon emails. Requests, memories, and stories; people wanting me to know how much they love Karen Carpenter. And I don't blame them. I adore Karen Carpenter myself. There is no sound in the world like the harmonica solo that opens "Rainy Days and Mondays," it's totally unique, yet reminiscent of so many other things, and then you hear the voice of Karen. There's nothing like it. All the rest is just an invitation to listen to the sound of that beautiful and singular voice.

Karen Carpenter's voice isn't big, or loud, or gymnastic. I don't know if she would make it on American Idol today. It's simple, real, but painfully alive. It's filled with hope and promise, yet totally aware of the dark. It's that mixture that grabs you, holds you and forces you to connect, to engage. She is speaking just to you, taking you to places only you and she have known. She sings like she's your friend, in a private conversation, confessing her fears and hopes just to you. She's instantly familiar, as if you've known her all your life. You can hear her smile on some lines; her slow building grin shading the notes that somehow communicate no matter how bad it has been, it can always get a little better. Very few people have this sort of talent. It's a rare and precious thing, and as history has taught us time and time again, it's usually gone entirely too soon. It's what makes them Icons. 

 I expected a lot of emails, but what I didn't expect was so many from really young people. I got more emails from people who were born well after Karen was dead than anyone else. Karen Carpenter died 30 years ago last month, and yet there is a whole host of young people who adore her music and still fall in love with that voice. She speaks to them in a way that so much of the world around them doesn't: She is totally unironic. I know this may shock you, but, I don't like Irony.

Or perhaps I should clarify, I don't like staged irony, the sort that is lived and from what I gather, quite intentional. A friend of mine refers to this as "Hipster Irony." It's that sly wink and smile that smug 20-somethings wear when they decide to don a truly hideous cat sweater from a thrift store, or offer you some Kombucha from their Jem and the Holograms thermus. It's the grin that says,"Yes, I know this is awful, but through my very condescension, I am making it tragically beautiful, don't you think? Aren't you jealous of my powers?"

Well, no. No, I'm not.

It reeks to me of apathy, a strange disapproval/adoration that allows the "ironic," a cold distance from everything that surrounds them. Nothing is real or good or even bad, it just is and they can make fun of it, or love it, or hate it. Who cares. It doesn't involve them. They're laughing at it all.

On the other hand, I want to be involved. I want to like things, because I genuinely like them; because I'm invested in them. I want them to get me excited, to make me smile or think or cry. I want to be engaged. It's that connection that I look for in art, or in music, or in movies, or in clothes, or even in people, truthfully. How do we connect. I want to be a part of something, to feel something. And I guess I'm not the only one. I have emails to prove it.

You could be "ironic" about Karen Carpenter. The music can sound hokey, all those strings, the French horns, and the '70s swirl that lives in so much of the sound. And it's overly optimistic, and "wholesome" in a world that is increasingly less so. But as one 19-year-old put to me in her email, "I listen to Karen, and I feel less alone."

That's what great art is all about. It's hard to see the irony in that.

It seemed like every time I ever sat in the orthodontist's chair in the early 80s (not exactly the place a middle schooler wants to be as her braces get tightened to the max) Foreigner always played on the radio piped in over the office stereo speakers.

Despite all that, I love them. Foreigner's greatest hits offer lots: the irresistibly kinetic onslaught of "Urgent," the better than it should be "Cold As Ice" (it's kind of dispassionate for a song about someone accused of being dispassionate), the hazy longing found in "Waiting for a Girl Like You" (aren't we all?) and the truly glorious and moving sounds of "I Want to Know What Love is" (I won't even joke about this one, it's too sacred.)

 

According to Wikipedia:

 

The song has received positive retrospective reviews from critics, with Bret Adams of AllMusic writing: "It's not hard to see why it became Foreigner's first #1 single. Its dreamy, hypnotic feel is due in part to Lou Gramm's soulful lead vocals and the New Jersey Mass Choir's background vocals."^[1]

 

 The vulnerability of the lyrics (just as moving to me now as they were when I was in high school in 1984) and the beauty of the choir just really, really (really) get to me...every time. Plus, of course, there's Lou Gramm's voice.

 

The New Jersey Mass Choir has recorded their own version, which isn't quite as no-holds-barred as Foreigner's but is still quite lovely with that chorus:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLztU3tMNJY