In this case, my iPod shuffled to Quicksand by La Roux, which is a really awesome song to begin with. As far as I can tell, the lyrics refer to Elly consoling another woman—who has just broken up with her boyfriend—and the sexual tension between them while she is (or alternately and more likely, upon listening to it a couple more times, a woman who is cheating on her boyfriend with Elly). But, before and after, here are some of the lyrics:Read more
r0yalewithcheese asked: so your awesome posts about the songs being sung by men were really cool, and as I was driving in traffic to work, I started to think of one of my own.
So Jesse's Girl by Rick Springfield could be sung by a girl, who falls in love with her friend Jesse's girlfriend.
Jessie is a friend,
Yeah, I know he's been
A good friend of mine
But lately something's changed
That ain't hard to define
Jessie's got himself a girl
And I want to make her mine
And she's watching him with those eyes
And she's lovin' him with that body,
I just know it
Yeah 'n' he's holding her in his arms late,
Late at night
You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl,
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
Where can I find a woman like that
Oh my gosh, yes, it’s perfect! Awesome!
Original: Robyn is the other woman, and is trying to convince her boyfriend to break up with his first girlfriend, but in a weirdly inspirational manner.
Adapted: A guy convinces his boyfriend, who has recently come to terms with his sexuality, to break up with his girlfriend.
Call your girlfriend. It’s time you had the talk.
Give your reasons. Say it’s not her fault.
But you just met somebody new.
Tell her not to get upset,
Second-guessing everything you’ve said and done.
And then when she gets upset,
Tell her how you never meant to hurt no one.
And you tell her that the only way her heart will mend
Is when she learns to love again.
And it won’t make sense right now, but you’re still her friend.
And the you let her go easy.
Don’t you tell her how I give you something you never even knew you missed.
Don’t you even explain how it’s so different when we kiss.
Original: Taylor Swift sings about having a crush on her best guy friend, who incidentally has a really crappy girlfriend. He belongs with quirky and fun and *unique* Taylor, obviously, not the aforementioned girlfriend.
Adapted: A guy sings about having a crush on his best guy friend, who incidentally has a crappy girlfriend. His friend would be so much better off with him, obviously, not the aforementioned girlfriend.
Disclaimer: While I’m not a huge Taylor Swift fan, this one actually makes my toes curl up just thinking about how cute it would be. Watch the video to get a
cuter clearer idea of it.
You’re on the phone with your girlfriend. She’s upset.
She’s goin’ off about something that you said.
She doesn’t get your humor like I do.
She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts.
She’s cheer captain, and I’m on the bleachers,
Dreaming ‘bout the day that you wake up and find that
What you’re looking for has been here the whole time.
Walkin’ the streets, with you in your worn-out jeans,
I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be.
She wear high heels, I wear sneakers.
She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers.
If you could see that I’m the one who understands you
Been here all along, so why can’t you see that
You belong with me
Try not to judge me too hard rn.
Original: Victoria Justice sings about having a crush on her best friend’s brother. She doesn’t want her friend to know, but we don’t really know why. Also creepy line about incest.
‘Cause he’s such a dream,
And you know what I mean:
If you weren’t related…
Adapted: Perhaps titled “Girlfriend’s Brother,” a guy (who has recently come to terms with his sexuality—are you sensing a theme?— or is just in a heterosexual relationship out of convenience) sings about having a crush on his girlfriend’s brother.
Idk how to adapt this one. I think it could go a few directions, including one that’s more faithful to the original, but my thought process is this: If the guy is close friends with a girl (the song hinges on the best friend being female), then he’s most likely gay anyway, so why does he care if she knows, other than the boring usual awkwardness? So I guess it’s more interesting if it’s because he’s in a relationship with the girl and blah blah I’m over-thinking this.
I call you up when I know he’s at home.
I jump out of my skin when he picks up the phone.
Why can’t I tell if he’s looking at me?
Should I give him a smile? Should I get up and leave?
I really hope I can get him alone.
I just don’t, don’t want her to know.
Yeah, yeah, yeah! My girlfriend’s brother is the one for me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah! A punk rock drummer, and he’s six-foot-three.
I don’t want to, but I want to, ‘cause I just can’t get him out of my mind.
I kinda think that I might be his type,
‘Cause when you’re not around, he’s not acting too shy.
Sometimes I feel like he might make a move.
Is this all in my head? I don’t know what to do.
As an additional disclaimer, I think this is actually a well-written song, even if the lyrics are pretty sappy and lame.
Anyway, this concludes my train of thought.
Original: Robyn sings about seeing her ex-boyfriend with a new girl in the club.
Adapted: Guy sings about seeing his ex-boyfriend with a new girl in the club.
Admittedly, these don’t become ground-breakingly original works, but I think they make the situations in the song more complex and interesting. Also, as a disclaimer, Robyn said that she wrote a lot of the songs on the Body Talk album with gay anthems from the ’80s in mind, and given the few changes that would have to be made to the lyrics, it’s possible she had this interpretation floating around in her head anyway. Here’s a lyrical sample, pronouns changed where appropriate:
Somebody said you got a new friend.
Does she love you better than I can?
I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her.
I’m right over here. Why can’t you see me?
I’ve giving it my all, but I’m not the one you’re taking home.
So I keep dancing on my own.
Blah blah anticlimactic blah. But wait, there’s more!
What I don’t really get is why there is any backlash whatsoever to Lady Gaga from LGBTQ people as a community. On a personal level, it’s completely okay not to like her music or think she’s the most wonderful person to ever walk the Earth, but as a community, we could really use more people like her.
In the past, we’ve chosen people like Judy Garland, Audrey Hepburn, and Elizabeth Taylor, but why? Is it wrong to have an icon who actually gives a fuck about our community and has shown that she’s willing to be politically active and vocal about what she believes in?
She cares. She really does. I’m not sure why she would possibly go so far out of her way just to sell more records. She’s not simply pandering to an audience.
I have a wonderful, accepting family, but it makes me a little bit sad when my mom only expresses interest in learning more about the LGBT(QIA) community once it directly relates to her job, not simply because she thought it would be worthwhile to be educated for her son.
Anonymous asked: Does your family know your sexuality? And have you ever been in a sexual relationship with a man? Or a woman for that matter? How do you really know what you think you like?
And not that I owe you an answer, you coward, but yes, my family does know.
And how do I really know? I suppose I won’t ever really know until I try, but I have a pretty damn good idea of I think I like. And quite frankly, if you’d even bothered to read anything on my blog, you’d have seen this:
In terms of sexuality, I guess I would say that I’m a bisexual who has no interest in ladyparts. I find the female body in the abstract quite appealing, but any further than that weirds me out.
Like, really? How do you know what you like? How did you know you were straight? It sounds like a dumb question with an obvious answer because it is. You just knew. Just like I do.
Anonymous asked: I hope someone enters your room at night and slashes your throat, then guts you like a pig while you squeal in terror. It might even be me. Sweet dreams.
I am so perplexed right now. Who trolls Tumblr hating on gays? Especially relatively innocuous ones like me?
Hi! My name is Spencer. This is my life story, by popular demand.
(My mother and I, approx. 1995)
I had my humble beginnings in the upper-Midewest of the United States of America, born to a certain Stephen and Sandra in the first half of the ’90s. My father is of English and Welsh heritage, and my mother’s family hails from Sicily, Norway, Ireland, and Germany.Read more
Why is this so funny? Seriously, I laugh every time.
I continued writing this, because I needed to submit something at least five pages long for a class, and then it was put through a tremendous editing process before I submitted it, so it’s quite a bit more polished than it was before. I’m feeling kind of happy with it right now; I’m just enjoying letting the characters do what they want right now. This is my first piece of character-driven prose, so I’m just enjoying the freedom of not worrying about where the story arc is going.
Ten drinks too many.
Matthew lurched outside into the street. His headache was agonizing, from both the hammering music and the alcohol. Every light left a residual trail across his vision as he stumbled around to the alley, knocking over a trashcan in the process. The alleyway was narrow, and he almost missed it in the darkness.
He turned the corner and almost collided with a pair of men snogging. One of them hiccupped, and then Matthew watched as he turned away to vomit by the alley wall. The other man held his friend’s shoulders and whispered softly. After a moment, the first man straightened back up, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and they resumed sucking face. Matthew staggered down the alley in disgust.
Matthew tried to concentrate on his feet. Left, right, left, right, left…. The edges of the asphalt beneath his shoes bended up like putty, and the brick walls squeezed in claustrophobically. Technicolor lights danced in front of his eyes nauseatingly. He felt out a clear spot amongst the trash bags and grime, and then collapsed on the ground. He could still hear the music in his head. No, not in his head. It was still there, a dull bass throb emanating from the walls of the club.
Everything—inside and outside of him—was revolving. He drew his knees up to his chest to steady himself. How could he have been so stupid? Here he was, underage, alone, thinking he could just walk into a gay club by himself and handle his own. That was all the thought he could muster at the moment, though, so he relented and let his head spin into the darkness.
All too soon and not soon enough, he was jostled awake. Someone was tugging on his arm. How long had it been? Matthew wiped his eyes and tried to remember if he knew the face that was staring back at him from the murk.
His rescuer sighed in relief, and then moved to lift him up off of the ground. Matthew grunted in objection. The world distorted in front of his eyes, so he closed them again. No more of that, please. But he felt arms hook under his armpits, and then he was suddenly upright.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of this alley,” said the arms. They steered him forward, out of the other side of the alley. Or was it the way he entered? He was so disoriented….
Matthew chanced a peek through his lids. They were out on a main street again, but not one he recognized; he wasn’t familiar with this part of town. Streetlights flickered anxiously. Arms maneuvered him safely to a nearby bench on the sidewalk.
Arms asked if he was doing okay. Matthew confirmed, weakly.
“Okay, I need you to stand up now. My place is just a few blocks away, but I can’t carry you that far,” he said. “Do you think you can you make it?”
Matthew mumbled a confirmation. After a moment, Arms coaxed him to his feet, and they began to trudge slowly down the sidewalk again.
But the sidewalk had other plans. Matthew watched as it twisted up to meet him. He blacked out again.
When he woke up, he was in a vehicle. By the smell of it, a taxi. The seats were saturated in tobacco smoke, and a sour smell emanated from an unknown source. He became aware of loud foreign music coming from the front seat.
Arms was speaking. “Boulevard and 4th. Make it quick.”
Matthew surveyed what he could see of the taxi. His neck felt off, maybe a sprain, so he didn’t dare move his head. Arms sat next to him in the backseat. As the taxi accelerated, Matthew could see the dirty buildings begin to slide by out the window.
Matthew ventured a question. “How… How long was I… out for?”
Arms turned. “The first time, or the second time?” he smiled.
“Well, I followed you right out of the club. I’ve actually been watching you for most of the night,” he admitted, guiltily. “So, thirty seconds tops, the first time. And another sixty just now, probably.”
That’s all? This guy flagged down a taxi in this part of town in less than a minute?
Matthew muttered an acknowledgement.
“By the way, my name’s Dane,” he said. “Dane Roux.”
“Um… Nice to, uh, meet you.”
The street whizzed by outside the taxi. Dane waited expectantly.
“Oh, uh. Matthew. I’m Matthew. Matt. You can call me anything, really.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew. I’m gonna give you this tip that I’ve learned from experience,” Dane said. “Always, always keep an eye on your drink.”
Matthew stared blankly at him.
“You’ve gotta watch out for roofies, dude. Not everyone out here is as nice as I am. Now we’ve gotta get some ice on your head. You took a pretty hard fall back there in the street.”
The taxi had stopped in front of an upscale apartment building. Dane indicated that this was their stop.
Back in the alley, Ken did another line of coke. Jake waited patiently, and then they resumed making out. Euphoria.
Everything sharpened, became more acute. It was all elevated. Disjointed.
Jake pushed him up against the wall.
They kept kissing. He ran his fingers through Jake’s blonde hair.
He really had beautiful hair.
His fingers felt sort of funny.
Jake was a really good kisser.
Someone was shaking a little bit.
It might’ve been Jake.
But probably not.
Jake hadn’t been doing any coke tonight. He usually didn’t.
He said he just liked to watch Ken to do it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ken saw a man approaching.
Jake turned his head to look.
“’Ey, Jake. You seen a kid come through here?”
“Yeah. Took off with some twink a couple minutes ago.”
“Shit, man. Really? I spiked his drink. It was a good one too.”
“Man, fuck off. I’m busy here.”
The other guy walked back from where he came, muttering.
Ken nuzzled Jake’s chin. “Friend of yours?”
“Shh. Don’t speak.”
He loved it when Jake talked to him like that.
The ice water dripping down Matthew’s cheek woke him up.
He was in an apartment. An unfamiliar apartment.
He tried to jog his memory.
Suddenly, it flashed back to him, like Polaroids flipping past his eyelids. Snippets of the previous night, blurred and poorly exposed.
Dane…. Dane. Dane’s apartment. Where was Dane? He reached up to his forehead to find the source of the water. His hand returned with a plastic baggie, filled with the sad remains of a few ice cubes. He dropped it onto the blanket that was draped over his body, and then struggled for a minute to sit up. This was going to be one heck of a hangover.
end of chapter
Let me know what you think. Also, does anyone have any suggestions as to a title for it?
I am fed and fed and fed
Any number of things.
How successful should I be?
How should I be successful?
But I think I’m allergic to that one.
Please stop feeding me;
I don’t want any more.
How attractive should I be?
How should I be attractive?
I eat that one up.
I have mastered my disguise:
I am not quite the wholesome ideal,
Not quite the American dream,
But I have found the image that suits me.
I’m not sure I should be eating it, though.
Please stop feeding me;
I don’t want any more.
How straight should I be?
How should I be straight?
Some people are very concerned about this one.
There are institutions that spread the word,
“This is the food for everyone!”
Those who don’t consume this food
Aren’t right. Wrong. Evil.
I never really did like that dish,
So please stop feeding me;
I don’t want any more.
I am overwhelmed by the food.
I am fed and fed and fed
Any number of things.
But I’m not sure they all do good for my body.
How much more should I want?
How should I live?
Please stop feeding me;
Because not only do I not want any more,
But I don’t want, anymore.