June 24, 2009

I received some really lovely gifts, messages, and calls for my birthday. And then I got one more, a few days after I turned 33, from Thomas Goldberg. Tommy, as I call him, and I have known each other for a good decade. He too is from Maryland. He too wore make-up and feathers and was a club kid. He too escaped to NYC. He too went to Parsons. And he's about to start working for DWR. He has a great role model methinks.

In 2000, or was it 1999, he met another friend of mine, Jason Goldberg, I think at Twilo. I had known each separately, but did not make the introduction. This is a common occurrence in my life. They moved to Seattle and they were married. It was the first gay marriage I attended! I went with Chris Miers, my boyfriend of the time. Wait, Miers, did we officially go there with that title? I don't remember much.

Anyway. Jason and Tommy. Love them to death. They broke up this year too and though their relationship was significantly longer than Ben and mine, they too are experiencing similar issues. So it was quite lovely that Tommy asked me to accompany him to see Beyonce in concert at Madison Square Garden.

For the record let me say this about Beyonce. I have a love/hate thing with her. I loved Destiny's Child and I hate the way she dismissed others in the group (I adore LeToya Luckett, btw). I loved her first album but rolled my eyes at her lip synching in live shows. I adored her acting. She was funny in Austin Powers and was the best performance in Dreamgirls. In here role as Diana Ross, yes that is Diana Ross, she nailed it. Hudson may have had the more emotional role. The more gut-wrenching role. But it was Beyonce's coy, convincing, callous turn in that film that won me over. She was understated. She was dazzling in her simplicity.

And her music got better. Ring the Alarm is pulsating and angry. Irreplaceable is infectious. And Halo was written for me this year. I tell myself that. I have not connected lyrically to a pure pop song in some time. Timeliness, I suppose. Her voice cracks and is under produced. This is a good thing. The song is about not only finding love at the wrong time but also of embracing that love. It's the risk that I'm taking.

So Tommy and I sat there and talked about our relationships, new and old, and the destruction of a life built together. Safety in numbers. My pain is not just mine. Many share this same hurt. And the lights went low and the crowd went nuts and we were in a sea of black girls and flamboyant queens and we danced and sang and let go. It was a lovely gesture and a fitting goodbye. Tommy moves to LA in a few weeks.

Beyonce is warmer on stage than you'd think. Much more than Madonna. But she still does not let go all the way. This was evidenced by her lack of sweat. She is robotic, which I found fascinating. She moves like a robot. Juts and struts.

The Thierry Mugler costumes were part George Michael's Too Funky and part Vegas showgirl. The hair was all Ms. Ross. Beyonce dances like a motherfucker. She sang a good amount, not all though, but it did not distract. She had fun. She adlibbed. She shared the stage with Jay Z. Covered Ave Maria, Sarah McLoughlin. Alanis Morrissette. She edited the Destiny's Child catalog into a sampling then into a full rendition and then back into a sampled dance number. It was an homage that was just enough. We never forgot it was the Beyonce show. The costumes were sexy, revealing, and high-fashion. The band was all women. This, I thought, was such a genuine statement. Girl power. The band played Michael Jackson and the White Stripes. Her musical and fashion statements and references were far more diverse than I'd expected. She'd done her homework.

And the references to Paris is Burning were obvious. I am not exaggerating. She threw a ball. Runway. Gowns. Wigs. The whole shebang.

Upstate, two summers ago, I berated Theron Long for his love of Beyonce. Her lack of self-deprecation bugged me. She seemed too serious. But this last album, and the SNL skit, and her public face have changed my mind. She's a big talent with a unique, shaky, and sometimes pitchy voice. But it's getting better. But, like Madonna, who I think she emulates more than Diana Ross, it's not about her voice in purely technical terms. It is about her ability to convey emotions: anger, independence, and like on Halo, simple, pure love.

As I walked back from lunch on the Highline today, where I giggled with Robbie Hammond, who was adorable taking his shoes off during lunch, I was reminded that it is Pride here in NYC by all the rainbow flags suddenly tackily tacked on restaurant windows.

So Beyonce kicked off my Pride week. I have a friend's birthday dinner, Fuerza Bruta, a weekend in the Pines, and then back to NYC, next Sunday, where among the crowds of gays I intend to dance and sing out loud. I just may have picked up a few moves from Ms. Knowles one week before.