By Jeff Walsh
With his acoustic album "Motorcycle Childhood," Tyson Meade uses spare arrangement and raw vocals to share details of his life. It's very different from his other role as the openly gay lead singer of the Chainsaw Kittens, where he used to take to the stage in lipstick, tights and mini-skirts.
By Janis Ian
In a small town somewhere at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains, teachers prepare for the coming semester. Professors grimly consult lesson plans, breaking in new Dockers ("I still wear the same size I wore when I graduated," they brag, bellies hanging over their straining waistlines like blubber off Ahab's whaler). Dormitories are surrounded by troops of exterminators bent on eradicating last year's mess before the health department shows up for a final check. The grounds are infested with newly arrived victims, ready to give the university their all and terrified that anything beyond the boundaries of the parents' homes will eat them alive. If they only knew.
By Janis Ian
I am standing with my tit caught in a wringer while a mall-haired technician tells me to relax. I am thinking that if men had to put their testicles in a vise as part of a yearly physical, we would have a cure for the common cold by now. I am very frightened.
The pink slip came as we were leaving on vacation: "We have found what appears to be a routine abnormality..." What's routine about an abnormality? I decide to put on a brave front and joke that in all my life no one has ever called me routine; then I burst into tears. Later on I do the grown-up thing and panic, furtively examining my breasts in the mirror for changes. I'm afraid that if I touch them to check for lumps, I will set something off. I wish they were smaller. I wish they were removable. I wish they were on anyone but me.
How can I express my love to you?
I love you in a way few can even fathom.
I had the weirdest dream ever while napping! But that shall come later. I had an unusual day! First of all, it is the most Februaryish day that ever Februaryed in the long prominent history of Februarying. In other words, it looked like a cold London day, with a constant misty rain falling, and no light at all. It was slippery, and I almost died several times going to school. Then a friend was angry at me, but it was something that wasn't my fault, so no drama ensued, unfortunatly. I was also in the newspaper for some article my friend wrote, which was neat! But I hadn't read it until just now. It was really good!
First it was him
And then it was me
And now its you
It spread like a disease
and now it effects us all
We all were looking for a way out
Or maybe we were jealous of the attention he got
He was the weirdest of us all
His pain was noticed and we still blended in with the rest
Then we each had cuts to match
A cut for each ounce of self-hatred
A cut to numb
A cut to show the world what we experienced
Too many people stuck between rocks and hard places lately. And jumping from frying pans to fires. God, I wish I knew you people in real life. Then I could help you out and make out with the girls and have lots of zany, queer fun. But I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Homophobic, no-gay-zone environment vs. lots of hot, hot girls with which to make out. Most of the kids seem okay with gays, but I'm worried about the Albertans and other gay bashers.
Fearing the 14th. Procuring some pride.
Let me vomit in peace
A rant of who I hate and why, and why I am crazy. I don't know why?....................................................................(will the dots ends?)...................(perhaps)................................(then perhaps)..................(not)..