brilliance

...I think, on principle, I like anyone over 40 still doing their artistic thing. Of course, I'm biased, but I think Art begins at 40. Americans are so terrified of being old that they don't wanna claim that reality. The young, exciting upstart with no scars reminds us of a time when we never had to think about our donut intake or death. She reminds us of a time when we didn't have to think about consequences. As a country, we crave Art which infantilizes us because we've never been equipped psychologically to deal with the darkness....

--Stew, 45

This evening my sweetie and I went to see Passing Strange, the new play by Stew at the Berkeley Rep. I first heard Stew when Kate gave me a Negro Problem CD years ago, and he immediately became one of the many beautiful things in my life because of my beautiful friend. How could I not love a straight man who writes this song:


Ken, from Joys and Concerns (1999)

My name's Ken
And I like men
But the people at Mattel
The home that I call hell
are somewhat bothered by my queer proclivities
It's safe to say that they are really pissed at me

They always stick me
with Barbie
But I want them to know
I prefer GI Joe
But any able bodied man-doll will surely do
Just someone to love, since I am not set up to screw

Black Barbie
You know she used to talk to me
But now she'd rather be
in plastic therapy
sitting on a plastic couch speaking freely
The only problem is she has no history

Some day soon
I'll be in your child's room
And I'll be forced to kiss
Barbie's plastic tits
And I will hate myself, but what's more I'll hate you
For not allowing me to love as I wish to

See, I'm your corporate toy
Cursed to bring you joy
And through divorce or death
I'll just hold my breath
And play along, your daugter's not to blame at all
For bringing these burdens to bear upon a doll

So, fa-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

(Thanks to John who transcribed the lyrics)

I used to see him now and again around Silverlake when I lived there, and I was always quite starstruck but this ungainly, unlikely black man from the Valley who made the sweetest, smartest music, and I've continued to follow his music over the years. But I've very deliberately stopped listening much to music in the past few years, for reasons too complicated and unknown even to myself, except that I think my experience of music is too nakedly emotional for me right now, so when I listen to it now it's a very overwhelming experience, especially when it is music that moves me so particularly both for its power and for my private associations with it.

Passing Strange is an incredible theater/concert piece about a young black artist searching for and finding meaning and identity in the world, which makes it sound rather pretentious but it's hilarious and smart and moving and I would urge anyone in or near the Bay Area to go see this play during its premiere (tonight was the first show) here through December 3 (it goes to New York after this). I'ma call my friend Kymberly to go back and see it with me.