The camp humor of Little Richard and Esquerita, while critically contextualized against the mainstream white heterosexual adult culture, must also be mapped within the framework of the black R&B musical subculture of the ‘40s and ‘50s. While Little Richard and Esquerita certainly ushered in an effeminate twist and turn to outrageous performance styles, they were hardly the sole originators of such developments. Swing-setters Cab Calloway and Louis Jordan and blues-jumpers Big Joe Turner and Wynonie Harris had long been recognized for their peacock-strutting looks and gestures, their smiles as wide as their ties and lapels, their gesticulations as “colorful” as their baggy suits.
These forerunning hipsters of young black urbanity wore their colors with similarly coded humor, though theirs was more class-conducted and race-related than sexuality-serving. Their gratuitous displays of success and upward mobility—as with many rappers a few decades later—mocked their real lower-class status while laughing in the face of racist whites perplexed as to why these poor players were refusing to perform their socially-scripted roles as “subservient negroes”. Whereas these trailblazers’ camp displays of kitsch gratuitously proclaimed the riches of the poor, Little Richard and Esquerita adopted and adapted their trickster codes into the more perilous minefield of homosexual identity. For that, camp was as much a means of survival and a marker of self than it was a comic stagecraft medium for showing off.
!! i love revisiting things! i find that what i believe to be new thoughts turn out to be a rehash of things that i absorbed a while ago
(a warped recording of the shondels “wonderful one”)
but pretend i didn’t tell you that! ok so this is the tape that i managed to capture when spirits visited me last night and sang me a ghost song
the effects of uric acid
^^ mood music (buddy & ella johnson)
stop hitting on me, i don’t like it
it is very evident when you are approaching someone as a friend or as an object. sensitive guys will protest, “oh no, i don’t objectify women at all!”
maybe not in a physical way (even tho you really are, subconsciously, itemizing each feature — it’s ok, i do it too), but in a mental/emotional way, which is nearly as dangerous (to me)
smash your trophy cases + your altars! try not to construct fantasy/movie images around people. that is not what they are.
approach every person as a friend. this is hard. this is what i am trying to do. (and funny thing — now that i realize i am not really attracted to men, i’m more comfortable around them, which seems to have increased the amount that guys are interested in me.) but—
when you try to hit on me*, it is like you are a person and i am a cat, and you think it is really cute/funny to pick me up and take me around, but i am actually very uncomfortable. and all i can do is meekly meow because you are bigger than me and can hurt me
*note that when i say “hitting on me” i mean aggressive flirting. i think there is a small degree of flirting within any friendship, and that is ok. just don’t make me look at you sideways then blink slowly like a cornered animal
art laboe with his head through the everly brothers’ drum head
lately i’ve been bugged by stupid stuff (ie “the meaning of life” and all that). i’m not sure what our/my purpose is; i’m bothered by the narrow perspective of my consciousness. i’ve no idea what’s going on
i think the guy that yells “YEAHYEAH YEAHYEAH” in “shout pt. 2” has got it
he’s so lazy lazy lazy it makes me crazy crazy crazy
best coast learned all her songwriting from this song
(there’s some sweet lazy dancing here. watch watch watch)