Todd on the mind

Everyone has a seminal singer. That one individual that defines your life, or at least a spot in your life that makes us what we are.

For me, it's Todd Rundgren. Yes, it's an off the wall choice, because he wasn't much of a singer, and he had a great face for radio. I think that's the attraction, though. I was never a twink (more on that subject later) so I never identified with that image. My singing was mediocre as well, so someone who could carry a tune, but not well had a special spot in my heart as well.

"Hello, it's Me." That's my song. Go listen to it and get back to me. It was the great hit that he both wrote and sang. Todd wrote a shitload of songs, but like my other great hero, Harry Nilsson, he left the vocals to someone else to do. That's not the song on my mind right now, though.

I'm in a strange mood lately. Mostly for reasons that I don't feel much in the mood to divulge now. Let's just say that life ought to be defined by one of the great quotes from the movie Brazil:

"We're all in this together."

I've said that more than once, and I really believe it to be true. Without each other, we flounder, do the fish out of water thing, etc., and life pretty much reeks of heavy suckage.

But I digress just a little.

Oh, what the fuck, I'll keep digressing. (you don't like it? Get your own blog and bore others) The other great line from Brazil is: "You won't go anywhere in that suit."

Back on tack, however is the reason I'm fussing over Todd today--a Faboooo song he scribbled down--goes something like this:

Pay your price, a ticket to paradise.

I can't stay here anymore,

and I've looked high and low

I've been from show to show to show

If there's a shortcut, I'd have found it

But There's no easy way around it

chorus

Light of the world,

shine on me

Love is the answer

Shine on us all,

set us free

Love is the answer

Who knows why?

Some day we all must die.

We are all homeless

little boys and girls

And we are never heard

It's such a lonely world

People turn their heads

and walk on by

tell me it's worth

another try

chorus

Tell me are we alive

or just a dying planet?

What are the chances?

Ask the man in your heart

for the answer

When you feel the pain

when you've lost your way

when you're all alone

when you're far from home

when you're down and out

when you're hope has run out

when you need a friend

when you're near the end

We have to love each other.

That's it--we have to love each other. We have to be nice to one another, because if we don't do it for ourselves, nobody is going to do it for us. It's like the self-esteem thing--if you don't love yourself, how can you expect someone else to love you in return?

Twink

Falling back with the whole self-love thing, I've been running across a lot of people lately who are really miserable, and it makes me sad. Some are unhappy because they want something that isn't within their grasp, some because they don't feel good about themselves. A small group because they are unwell (either physically or mentally.) It makes me think of a conversation that we had last night in the gay.com chatroooms. {You'll find me there often. Say hi.} The subject was the word twink.

As previously mentioned, I never was a twink. According to Bob's Unabashed Dictionary, a twink is an adjective describing a somewhat shallow, definitely vapid youngman who believes his own PR, no matter how inflamed it might be. Twinks are absorbed in their selves and generally ignore the world about them, unless it involves another twink, and definitely only twinks from the right side of the tracks. They obviously move in cliquish packs and refuse to associate with anyone outside of their age range (which would be 18-23...Maybe 25 if good hair and a better body is involved)

All in all, twink is a derogatory term, I'd say. In the same way that I can use fag as a term because I happen to be homosexual, and some can use nigger because they are of African descent, twink can be used as a pundit. Nothing wrong with that, say I. Nonetheless, we had a nice discussion about the word, with a couple of men who are honestly young enough to be my sons. One of them describes himself as a twink quite proudly, and he probably is. He certainly matches the age criterion, but that's about it. He's polite enough to hold a conversation (in his words: "I don't like most people I meet, but I continue talking to them because it's rude not to.") His ability to compose his thoughts separates him far and beyond people in his age range and it certainly splits him from the land of the twink.

End rant.

My message today is simply love each other, because we're all in it together. Twinks, old fucks such as myself, fat, thin--it really makes no difference. Just be nice, and impeach Dubya.

Condom-sleeza Rice is the Secretary of State? Man, we are so fucked.