Velvet Goldmine

"I said 'Do it again, do it again'"

I saw Velvet Goldmine for the first time this weekend. It met and went far, far beyond my expectations and wildest dreams. Christian Bale, Johnathan Rhys-Meyers, and Ewan McGregor all shine (the copious nutidy, sexuality, desire, glam, and pretty boys doesn't hurt either). I don't know if I can describe it well enough to do it justice - all the passion and dreams and sexual energy overflowing the characters and dazzling your senses. "I move like a rat, talk like a cat, sting like a bee / Babe i'm gonna be your man /.../ Twentieth century boy / I wanna be your toy"

Velvet Goldmine has some amazing lines:

It's only now, looking back, that I see how you patched through my walls, and entered my life in waves.

For once there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes, a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream, a land where all things are perfect and poisonous.

I should think that if people were to get the wrong impression of me, the one to which you so eloquently refer, it wouldn't be the wrong impression in the slightest.

Nothing makes one so vain as being told one is a sinner.

The world has changed because you are made of ivory and gold, the curves of your lips rewrite history.

I am a woman (if I can be called that) of many loves (if they can be called that). I love ripe peaches, rolling their downy curves over and over in my small hands before I sink my teeth into their soft tangysweetsour flesh, slowly and carefully sucking the excess juice so not one drop is spilled. I love ripe avacados and how their soft flesh gives way, greases my fingers, and makes love to my mouth in that laviscious and smooth way over and over. Enough about food though; it can only sate so many of my appetites. I love power and beauty over almost everything else. The only exception that comes to mind is a very lucky little stuffed dog named Bentley, but I digress.

I like my men pretty, my women handsome, and have an appreciation, bordering a fetish, for masculinity and feminity in all the places I was told they weren't supposed to be. I get hot below the belt for the dandies with their glitter and strut and smouldering looks screaming, "Catch me if you can." I burn up for the porcelain girls who think they despertely long for love, but never let anyone through the walls and walls they've built around themselves. Each one crying out for love and attention, and each one as tragically doomed as the next to fall short of those goals because of faulty methods. People don't love icons; people love what icons stand for. As long as you're tarted up or locked in your tower, chances are you're keeping people at a distance. And maybe you like it that way - keeps them coming back for more. And maybe they like it that way - it's easier to love something on a pedastool for what you want it to be. You have the beauty and the power and why share it with anyone else?