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| I remember, not too long ago, I saw this HORRIBLE open mic show at a coffee shop on Santa Monica off of Seward. There was this one comedienne, however, who was.. o.k. Black chick. Large frizzy hair. Big pair of overalls. Colorful kaleidoscope print shirt. Black Converse all-stars. Big moon earrings. Outrageously large coiffe of honey colored curls. And this voice… sorta Minnie Mouse, sorta Michelle, Sorta Macy Gray, but mostly helium. She said something to the effect of, “I don’t date much. The majority of men who are attracted to me are gay and they just want to get me to bed to see what type of bed sheets I have.” I thought it was the funniest fucking thing in the world! Mainly because I thought she was madly attractive, unbelievably amiable and sexy in that muscular clown sort of way. She, by the way, was NOT Cree Summer, but the whole ordeal started a train of thought as to why gay men are attracted to left of center women, or in the very least, why am I attracted to them. Enter Cree. It’s been a slow steady burn. When I first saw her on a different world with that untamed mane of red hair and her anti-capitalistic vibe my teenage heart beat, “Cree! Cree!” I hear she was on some television show a little later and played a lesbian and I gotta tell ya, the thought of her feigning eating hair pie makes be want to vomit. “No Cree! No Cree!” But then there’s all those cartoons like Inspector Gadget and Rugrats and the big movie Atlantis. “Yes Cree! Yes Cree!” THEN she came out with her debut album “Street Faerie” which unfortunately only sold about twelve copies worldwide. (I alone bought seven of them.) She just seems so funny and smart and weird and uncompromising and most of all… fun. She could change my mind. When I think of a woman’s genitalia I think of it in carnivorous terms. Poultry, fish, cold cuts squeezed together. I think of Cree as a mango or a peach and sometimes… a pineapple. I imagine bumping into her at a drag bar. It’s karaoke night. I don’t know she’s there. But I notice “Smooth My Heart” on the karaoke list so I sing it. Afterwards she approaches me and I am awestruck. I spill my drink and stumble over my words. She’s grateful I appreciate her song. I’m astounded she even acknowledged me. We talk for awhile. Laugh a lot. After shots of Cuervo, she pulls her hair back into a loose ponytail, looks me in the eye and asks, “Breeze, are you gay?” I reply, “You know, you fix one pipe they don’t call you a plumber, but you suck one dick…” Much to my surprise we stay in contact far past that night. She’s not offended by my naively misogynic sense of humor. I’m not threatened by her intentionally feministic leanings. We never have sex. But we share Jell-O at the LaBrea Tar Pits and she becomes impregnated with my child. The baby doesn’t kick more that it… slides in her belly. We name her Latisha Bashir Bluebeard Summer-Vincinz. Cree marries some tall dude with clear skin, dreadlocks, a pretty decent penis and an accent from some third world country with a name like Aeo or Ile or Usi. I date somebody named… Frank. But we remain best of friends. Give each other secret winks like two women who have shared a lesbian experience long ago then wink at each other when accompanying their respective husbands at a company party. Latisha grows up to be a senator. She has a tattoo “EXIT ONLY” encased in roses above the crack of her ass. Now, I know the boundaries of being a “fan”. And I know how fans can be… well… fanatical. My God… I almost started World War III with MeShell NdegeOcello’s supposed “favorite” fan. So… you know… I “get it”. While me and insane MeShell fan were bickering, she was probably off someplace with a blunt not really giving a shit about either of us. So in reality, Cree is off someplace smoking some fags, writing some songs, charting the motions of the sea with her body, dancing dirty pirate dances with slaves, skeletons and Lilakoi, not really giving a shit about me… and that’s cool, you know. Because we as fans need to let our stars be the people in all reality they are. Give them there privacy dammit! What they do alone is why we love them in public. And with all that said I still have to say, I’M IN LOVE WITH CREE SUMMER! A guy can dream. She could change my mind! |
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