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August, 2011

  1. Teenage Dream

    August 1, 2011 by Nathan

    There are some artists who blow through town that you may hear about and think “Well, that’d be nice if I won tickets” or “Maybe a friend will invite me”, or “Who gives a crap? I only know one song, and it kind of blows anyway.” Katy Perry is not one of those artists.

    She doesn’t know it of course, but Katy Perry’s musical repertoire–that runs the gamut from the fun, flirty pop of “California Gurls” to the more longing “Thinking of You”–has become an integral part of the soundtrack to my life for the last couple years or so. I can’t begin to tell you how cheesy I think that the words “soundtrack to my life” really are, but I can’t think of a better way to put it at the moment, so deal with it. With this being the case, when I found out she was coming to Austin on the California Dreams tour, it was the same question as Lady Gaga: Not “if”, but “where would we sit?”

    I bought the tickets on pre-sale in February using my dad’s Amex again (they *must* know he has a daughter or gay son by now, based on concert ticket purchases alone), and the first person who responded to my invite was Brian. Come to think of it, Brian was the perfect friend to take, seeing as on our many rides to retrieve my car from downtown, he’s endured my singing of “Teenage Dream” for almost a year now. He’s also someone I could see gaying out more than me during the concert, which does wonders for distracting from my own silly concert behavior.

    I won’t lie: for the next 6 months, it was nice driving by the Erwin Center on the way downtown and seeing the sign flash up Katy Perry; it reminded me the whole time that even after the high of seeing Gaga wore off, good times were yet to come.

    We arrived at the concert to the typical Erwin Center clusterf**k, except this time more pedestrians were wearing blue wigs. After parking, we entered in exactly where our section was located, so that was convenient. $7 beers were also convenient, but still the usual rip off. We walked inside and attempted to find our seats. Based on the ticket price, I fully expected to be directed to the nosebleed section, but Brian and I had already determined we were OK with that; we just wanted to see Katy, even it meant sitting on top of Mt. Everest. Imagine our surprise when the ticket lady said we needed to go CLOSER to the stage. Our seats were even past the second usher; you know, the one holding the chain. Holy shit–we were crazy close. How the hell did that happen?

    The next 10 minutes were spent geeking out over how awesome the seats were, and I got my first look at my fellow concert goers. In addition to both some clever and horribly tragic costumes, the audience could be broken down into 4 categories: 1.) Straight girls, and lots of them; 2.) Their hot boyfriends who clearly did not want to be there; 3.) Moms and daughters (Really?); and 4.) Gays. And somehow, we ended up sitting next to a slightly embarrassed dad who had brought his son. A son I suspect may be part of group #4 in about 8-10 years.

    Robyn was the opening act. She’s one of those artists I was hoping would open for Katy, but whose music in all actuality I had very little familiarity with. Apparently she’s huge with the gay dance scene, and has had a hit in the 90′s. In fact, according to my Facebook feed, some gay guys’ only motivation for the concert was seeing Robyn. Her music was OK, and at some point she deep-throated a banana. After that, I kinda wished I knew more about her.

    One more round of beer, and I wanted to see Katy. And then it began. And just like at Gaga, I went into a trance. The stage was reminiscent of the “California Gurls” video, adorned with candy cane ramps and lollipops. She had integrated a video of herself running around chasing a kitty or something, but none of that mattered when I heard the first notes of “Teenage Dream”.

    This was by far the most important song to me, for several reasons, most of which make my friends’ eyes roll back in their heads. I’m also pretty sure that projecting my own boy-related shit onto this tune has probably ruined the song for at least three people, but I don’t really care. It’s also the song I listened to when I was starting my rapid weight loss regimen on the treadmill. When I heard “Teenage Dream”, the incline went up, the speed got faster, and I was power walking my way to being svelte so he really could put his hands on me in my skintight (well, Dior) jeans. And eventually, he did. So in a way, thanks to Katy Perry’s inspiration, I got skinny and got the guy who previously blew me off. The 10,000 things wrong with everything I just said has been noted, and is not up for debate or explanation. Just know I’m self-aware enough to realize it, and I’ll deal with it later. Of course hearing it live, I flipped out like I knew I would, and you can hear me belting it off-key in both video clips Brian and I have from the moment. It was beautiful.

    Brief reactions:
    “Waking Up In Vegas”: Waking up hungover, broke, losing a motel key and needing an ATM is just as easily done in Austin as Vegas. Just saying.

    “Ur So Gay”: A confusing song that I can only see being about some old boyfriend who combines all the worst traits of indie, emo, and metrosexual guys in one person. It’s like describing a trendy Frankenstein-like monster. One you’ve never heard of, I’m sure.

    “I Kissed A Girl”: Ah, the one that started it all. I guess it’s more catchy than my version “I Kissed A Girl And Was Completely Ambivalent About It, But It Wasn’t As Gross As I Thought It Would Be.”

    “Peacock”: “I wanna see your peacock, -cock, -cock; your peacock, -cock, -cock”…while she lightly jerks off a microphone. This is the kind of stuff that made me question the wisdom of bringing the kids, but maybe they’re not jaded enough to understand it. Yet.

    “Hummingbird Heartbeat”: Not a single, and I only heard it in Brian’s car that afternoon. I fell in love with it, just in time to hear it live. It stirs what passes as emotions inside of me, even though I’m pretty sure she’s alluding to semen through half of it.

    “E.T.”: What, no Kanye?

    “Whip My Hair” (Willow Smith’s Cover): Katy, please put an end to this now. I beg of you.

    “Thinking Of You”: She sang this standing on a pink cloud that went up to the audience. How cute! I want one.

    “Hot N Cold”: Describes every gay guy I know.

    “Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)”: Perfect song for our Fridays, because it pretty much sums up what a typical Friday night is for me (Remember, soundtrack to my life…). And nothing like an entire arena screaming “TGIF”.

    I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Whitney Houston’s Cover): It’s safe to say I lost my mind when Katy Perry unexpectedly covered Whitney Houston. That’s like, a whole lotta gay in one sitting. And also, another one of my exercise songs. The audience members (especially the young girls) who were lucky enough to be invited up on stage must have had the time of their lives. Those bitches.

    “Firework”: There were real fireworks. And we cried. Of course we cried.

    “California Gurls” (Encore): I thought of my best friend Jen who lives in San Francisco, since this was our Palm Desert vacation song. And a fabulous, upbeat note to end on.

    Another mind-blowing concert in the bag. The only way any of this could have been better is if Katy Perry took me up on my invite to come to Charlie’s and party with us the rest of the night. That would’ve been my real teenage, er…adult dream.

    5 Stars *surrounded by fireworks* for Katy Perry’s California Dreams Tour. We love you.

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  2. Quick Trip To NYC

    August 1, 2011 by Nathan

    Recently, I was lucky enough to have been invited on a trip to New York City along with a small group of about a dozen people from my church, St. David’s Episcopal, and a few hand-selected friends we were allowed to bring. As soon as we had checked into our opulent Midtown hotel, we wasted no time hitting the streets and seeing the sights.

    I had been to NYC once before with my parents on an anniversary trip that they so generously invited my brother and me to join. It was easily one of the most memorable experiences of domestic travel, and this new trip was no exception.

    First stop: St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Our friend Kris was one of the few staunch Roman Catholics on the trip, and she was to be married to her fiancé, Greg. Kris was from Austin, but Greg was Norwegian (in fact, after the terrible tragedy recently, we were all hoping this trip would help to take his mind off things). Fortunately, Greg was in high spirits as he and Kris were slated to meet with the bishop to discuss St. Patrick’s as a venue for their upcoming wedding. Greg had converted with hardly any fuss from his nominal Lutheranism to Catholicism as soon as he and Kris were engaged.

    We had split into small groups at this point, so it was only Kirk and I accompanying them to the cathedral. The bishop was a nice man, cordial and extremely fond of the young couple. I sauntered around the massive church for a bit, before the bishop emerged with our friends. Giddy with excitement, Greg and Kris ran around the cathedral, already planning the big day in their minds. The bishop said he was excited for them, and said Greg was a good example of how one day, everyone would be making the Sign of the Cross in the name of Roman Catholicism. Kirk was not nearly as put off as I was after this rather arrogant and somewhat ominous declaration. I was also not too happy with the way the Church conducted itself during the gay marriage debate in New York, which thankfully already passed; a gay couple we knew were slated to marry before we flew back to Austin. As the bishop began to swing his incense below the crucifix, I quite boldly declared “Sorry, Rome, but you’ll NEVER get me.” Kirk agreed with me of course, but he didn’t want any trouble, so he ushered me out of the church. That ALWAYS happens; friends are always trying to get me out of places before I can verbally take someone down. Greg and Kris were out of earshot, so they weren’t mad in the slightest. They were still glowing about the wedding.

    Mere blocks from the cathedral, we found a frozen yogurt shop and as our other group members rejoined us from their mini adventures, we got in line and ordered our treats. I had a cup of chocolate yogurt, and topped it with colored sprinkles. As soon as I took a bite, the sprinkles and yogurt reminded of me of my childhood…especially those Friday afternoons after school in South Carolina when Mom would pick me up from school and take me out for a frozen yogurt at the TCBY near my private school. I’d get chocolate with sprinkles. Those were some of my favorite days. I’d have to include that in the Yelp review.

    Outside, a group of people I assumed were Jamaicans were playing dice on the sidewalk. We watched them for a bit, before they cleared out all at the same time to make room for a rather large woman who hooked up a microphone to a 90’s era boom box and began belting out show tunes. She was in very high heels, and so was her backup singer. As I finished my yogurt, I looked closer.

    These weren’t women, were they? Nope—they were drag queens, and not too passable at that. The backup dancer sort of smirked when she saw the spark of recognition. No one walking past, not even the Jamaican men from before, seemed to mind any of this was occurring. We listened to her sing a song by ADELE before we headed back towards the hotel.

    On the way, I begged Greg and Kris to re-think their church venue and use Trinity Church down on Wall Street. Irritated, they asked why they would want to, since neither of them was Episcopalian. I knew I was pushing it, so I dropped the subject. To get back into their good graces, I stopped in front of a jewelry store and the three of us ooh’d and ahh’d over the vast, sparkling array of watches in the window, including a featured Fendi display. I inquired if they wanted to try a few on for fun, but it was dusk and we had dinner plans.

    I entered the lobby, and there was my on again off again friend JB who had been part of the group walking home, but had somehow beaten us to the hotel. He was sitting in a chair next to a large glass window. Exhausted, I plopped down next to him. Greg, Kris, and Kirk had disappeared. And then I started to feel odd. I was hungry, yes, but that wasn’t it. Tired, of course, but I would manage once I had a cocktail. My stomach started to turn and the world started to not feel right. I looked over at JB, who seemed completely unaware of what was happening. But it was starting to wash over me. He asked me what my selections were for a prix fixe dinner, and if I really meant what he heard I had said back at the church.

    “J, we aren’t having dinner tonight. You know where we are,” I said.

    He looked at me, and as if by telepathy, he knew what that meant. Disappointed, he dropped the backpack he was holding, put his head back on the chair, and let out a deep sigh. He knew now.
    The lobby had grown darker as I could see less and less people. The buildings started to disappear and like a freight train, the recognition of the moment became louder and louder, until New York City had vanished in a flash…

    …and I woke up, with drool on my pillow and that horrible sense of disappointment you feel when you realize all those ridiculously vivid thoughts, events, and emotions were just specters. For those first few moments, that feeling sits in the pit of your stomach like a stone. And then the alarm goes off, and you desperately need to pee.

    The small comfort I took from my second “trip” to New York City was not the quality time spent with friends, my standing up to the bishop for religious freedom, the tasty frozen yogurt sprinkles, the unavoidable yearning for the shiny baubles in the window displaying all the materialistic treasures of this earth.

    No, it was none of those. My comfort was that even in my dream…I was still me.

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