memories of the pleasuredome

this little light of mine
Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top

There goes a supernova
What a pushover-yeah
There goes a supernova
What a pushover

We're a long way from home
Welcome to the Pleasure dome
On our way home
Going home where lovers roam
Long way from home
Welcome to the Pleasure dome

Moving on keep moving on
I will give you diamonds by the shower
Love your body even when it's old
Do it just as only I can do it

a long ago friend re-posted an album today  that i hadn’t heard in over 30 years. i played it in my car as i ran errands after work today and i was seriously and effortlessly transported to a different time. there is no doubt that holly johnson was sailing on the winds of inspiration at that time. he heralded the then new alternative voice of urban gay culture. it was dark, lyrical, spiritual, and insisted on saying “yes” to pleasure. his “two tribes” lyrics ad sentiment echoed from in halls of dance clubs around the world and revelers soaked in the decadence and the declarative nature of their anthems.

i know i regurgitate often the diatribe of “the glory days”, but my needle is often redirected to that groove. as my millennial counterparts will no doubt experience some day, when my adult soul was growing out into the world, the sensory influences made indelible impressions. frankie goes to hollywood (and holly johnson) were in the top ten of that list.

favorite frankie goes to hollywood memory will always be the night i saw them perform in an old chicago theatre on a typical weekend night. it was naturally a packed house and the show got started when suddenly the music stopped, the lights came up, and dialogue came from holly (i believe) talking to the crowd asking for their cooperation to listen and move back quietly and in an orderly fashion because part of the floor had given way and the only thing between a gaggle of music lovers dropping to the floor below was the gaudy old carpeting which was holding the weight of who knows how many audience members. it was a dance of two wills, the beseechers onstage and the wildlings on the main floor. after what seemed forever, the crowd slowly moved back and the danger contained with no real casualties to speak of, other than a pair of designer pumps which may or may not have fallen to the depths below.

i remember being intoxicated by the witnessing of an impromptu sociology class. watching and listening to an artist on stage trying to communicate in a calm and clear manner with a festival-minded crowd who just wanted to enjoy the moment was a remarkable and guilty pleasure. i don’t remember the music that night, but i do remember the drama just like so many other nights and yet not like them at all. when two tribes go to war….

i have to give a nod to will northerner who reposted the holly johnson vid. will continues to post inspired and breathtaking visuals that provide me with inspiration and raison d’etre when i didn’t realize there was a need.

will, holly, and so many others help make up an amazing and living list of renaissance brainiacs such as will and holly that became part of the cross stitching of the tapestry that represents that part of my life. fearlessly inspired artisans and expressionists who invited me (and everyone) to say “yes”.  it was some of the best instruction i ever received.

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