Tag Archives: lady gaga

Anatomy Of Change


The Slave is in a quest for himself.

His armor is heavy,
His feet are shackled
In boots of war
He didn’t start.

When he rips them off
There is filth.

A black slime which he inherited.

He claws on this skin
Which chokes him from within.

He is black
He is poor
He is white
He is rich
He is not just his parents’ progeny
He is not just a vessel for their filth.

He is the child of his own dreams.

He hates it when they say
He’s trapped in their heresy
Slave of the body
They decided to give him.

He wears the pearls
Which he stole from her mother
Simply because they forbid him to.

But he realizes
Its free to be naked.

And he burns his skin away.

He shall betray his DNA.

And all that remains
Is his bare bones —

The Anatomy Of Change.

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The Lady of The Smoke


She feeds on the smoke of the city,

The daughter of the war,

With a mask of metal destruction

She rises.

 

 

Cursed by the bondage of her birth,

Chained by destiny,

She nurses her undead siblings

And bear their children of the night.

 

 

Her breasts pain,

Her womb bleeds,

She wanders through the city in the search for redemption.

She writhes in agony over her eternal nightmare,

Her heart seeks liberation.

 

 

With claws meant to destroy,

She creates

Sculpting skyscrapers —

Her fortress of fantasy.

 

 

Clad in the armor of leather

And armed with armadillo heels,

She dances in the rooftop of the city,

The prophet of freedom.

 

 

With a sword of glitter,

She slays her brothers

And pierces her children’s hearts.

 

 

Bathed in their blood,

Feeding on smoke,

The lady of the night smiles.

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Iconoclast — The Death Of The Idols


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Growing up always involves the exploration of the world and picking out idols who you think you want to be.

Self-discovery always involves shattering of these idols and discovering who you really want to be.

At that crucial juncture of growing up I had worshiped particularly three idols who are still the main inspirations for me — Lady Gaga, Ayn Rand and OSHO, in that chronological order.

And I am happy to say that the iconoclasm has happened for me some time back.

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Lady Gaga is perhaps the only one in the pop world who is substantial enough to be called an inspiration, at least for me.
I always had a neurotic, bizarre, outrageous artistic streak in me. In her I saw it reach its ultimate point.
Her philosophy of individual liberation was my philosophy even before I heard of her. It was like she was made of the echoes of my screams, which were insubstantial at that moment of time.
She was the rebellion I always wanted to be.
Here was a woman who did what she wanted, and the criticism didn’t touch because she was so fucking amazing in what she did. She was a rebel not just for the sake of being a rebel, she was a rebel who had a solid foundation. No one could point out and say, “Its just empty fireworks, it’ll disappear with the smoke”.
And most of all, she was a woman who was fucking strong.

But now, I guess that strength is waning in her somehow.
Her next ARTPOP album is rumored to have a song, GUY (Girl Under You).

In an interview, she said, “Any kind of feminist has valid views for herself about what it means to be a feminist, but, as a new-age feminist, I would say I quite like the transference of strength I feel by submitting to a man – being under him,”

So wearing make-up, smelling delicious and having suckable, kissable, edible things between your limbs is something I find strengthening because I know that when I pick the right guy, I can let him have it.

The rebellion in her is officially dead, I guess. That’s what happens when you finally get to have your ‘prince charming’ and you fall back into that patriarchal norm.
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When I had discovered Ayn Rand, it was a time when I desperately needed her ideal of selfishness.  For during that period, I had realized that there was nothing greater than the self.
But what irked me since the beginning was her idea of morality. She believed that the ‘ideal man’ should be like a monolithic block of stone, with no contradictions and just blindly following his moral ideal.
What bullcrap.
It left no scope for growth, for growth always means contradictions. And her sense of ideal man or woman is something which is against my current philosophy. Making everyone a prisoner of ideals and pushing them into that impossible path of selfishness ruins the individual. Everyone will then want to be the same, that ‘PERFECT’ man or woman.Moreover, I was not sure about her being a strong feminist rebel. In the fountainhead, the hero rapes the heroine when they first meet. And the heroine wanted it.

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This brings me to OSHO. The one man who still inspires me the most.
His idea of morality was organic, spontaneous and so flexible, so alive.
He believed that when you are truly aware of a situation, then you have the freedom to choose what is right according  to the context rather than some code.
Moreover, I loved his book on politics.
He embraced the body along with the mind, the world along with the soul, the self along with the other, the west along with the east, Science along with Spirituality. He was harmony.
But of course, it was too good to be true.
His quotes on homosexuality made me uncomfortable,
As a homosexual you are not even a human being, what to say about a second-class citizen? You have fallen from dignity. I have great love for you, but that does not mean that I will support your perversion. You love me, but your love is meaningless if you cannot understand what I am saying. Be heterosexual. Homosexuality is just a habit that you have got, an ugly habit. Drop it. It is simply a question of dropping it, because it is not natural. Wild animals in the jungle are never homosexual; but in zoos, where females are not available, they turn into homosexuals. All your monasteries are zoos! Why are you becoming part of a zoo? Gather courage: Why are you afraid of a woman? My love is for you. That’s why I am condemning homosexuality continually — because I want you to become natural again.
That is not to say, he was homophobic. OSHO’s contradictions always made it difficult for him to be labelled.
There is nothing wrong in being homosexual. You need not feel guilty about it. One certainly has to go beyond sex, but that is as much applicable to heterosexuality as it is applicable to homosexuality. Heterosexuality or homosexuality are just styles of the same stupidity! You need not feel guilty. In fact, looking at the population of the world, homosexuality should be supported. At least you will not be increasing the population of the world, you will not be loading the earth more. It is already loaded too much. Homosexuality should be valued, respected — it is pure fun! Heterosexuality is dangerous. And what is wrong? If two persons are enjoying each other’s bodies, nothing is wrong. It should be their concern; nobody else’s business to interfere.
I believe that everyone has the right to choose their identity and be happy in it.
Of course, I don’t agree with OSHO at all when he says that homosexuality is unnatural/wrong.
And, thankfully, that prevents me from idolizing him.
In a way, I guess this was destined. Although I don’t believe in destiny that much.
It prevented me from becoming a slave to the idol, while sucking out enough inspiration and ideas from them.
And now, I guess, is the beginning of the journey to be ME rather than Lady Gaga, Ayn Rand or OSHO.Let’s see what the cocoon reveals.

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In Defense of Shock


What if I take off my clothes, put a wig on and dance with a fire-spouting mechanism latched onto my crotch?

What if I put a dead shark in a tank, fill it with formaldehyde and display it in a gallery?

What if I fill a vessel up with urine, drop a crucifix inside and proclaim it as a work of art?

You will probably be shocked, maybe peeing your pants in the process, and label me as an attention-whore.

Or worse, you may call the police or a mental asylum to drag me away and spare your poor heart from such horror.

There is also a rare possibility of my antics kindling your fascination and pleasing your eyes and Oh-So-Bored-With-This-Routine-World mind.

But will you ever ask WHY you got shocked by seeing my crotch on fire or a crucifix submerged in piss?

Does ANYBODY ever asks why they react the way they do when they see a piece of shock art?

I think they do not.

When Lady GaGa wore the meat dress in the VMAs, my first reaction was of disbelief.

Of course, it was fake meat, right?

Later, when it turned out that it wasn’t, I was utterly disgusted and all I could think to myself was, “This Fucking Rocks!”.

And that’s the magic of shock art — its effect is immediate.

It incites powerful emotional responses; it makes you feel.

But sadly not many people investigate why it makes them feel the way they do.

In my opinion, which was never really humble, shock art shocks us because it dares to probe into our darkest anxieties, fears and desires.

When Lady GaGa wears a meat dress, we are shocked because we are scared of death, and the rotting meat disgusts us.

When Damien Hirst preserves a Tiger Shark in a vitrine and showcases it in a gallery, we are shocked because the shark is dead and yet it seems so alive.

When Andres Serrano takes a picture of a crucifix submerged in his urine, it shocks us because he mixes one of the most sacred symbols of humanity with one of the decidedly profane things of our society.

Shock Art transgresses.

It is disgusting.

It is perverted.

It is the mirror which we never want to see.

And that’s exactly why it is one of the greatest kinds of art in the world.

Shock Art is the slap of truth on the face of the society — it forces us to deal with reality. And maybe even achieve catharsis in the process and get rid of these anxieties and fears.

Thus, Shock Art could very well make our society psychologically healthier.

And in this basic argument lies my defense of the art that shocks.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s too hard writing a blog with fire spouting out of my crotch and a dead Tiger Shark staring back at me.

Adios.

–X–

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I Mean Bullshit


gIBBERISH

Ra Ra a a aa

Roma romum ma

GaGa oo la la

Wantchabadromance

If you own a radio, a TV or a computer with an internet connection, chances are you know from where the above quote comes from.

Lady GaGa’s ‘Bad Romance’ was an international mega-hit and its mere lyrics conjure up images of an angry, near-naked Lady GaGa incinerating her lover on his death-bed.

The highlight of the song is of course the totally non-sense hook, which she screams aloud all through the song. In a strange way, the lyrics convey her anger more efficiently than any meaningful, grammatically-correct sentences could have. The hook touches the most primitive part of our brain.

In her album ‘Born This Way’, Lady GaGa dedicates a whole song to scheisse or bullshit. The song is about female empowerment, and its hook may arguably be the most ‘hooking’ in the pop world. It consists of broken English, German and maybe some French, all mixed up into a non-sense fruit salad.

And, like Bad Romance, Scheisse’s hook is powerful.

The ‘Non-Sense Song Syndrome’ recently reached Indian shores.

A Tamil movie song, ‘Kolaveri Di’, consisting of broken English and some Tamil words went viral all over India.

But this syndrome is not limited to the songs. It’s even found on the back-side of chips packets. In India, one can find a Hippo urging you to share your chips with others to fight hunger in broken English.

 But this phenomenon is not new. The anti-art movement, DaDa, invented sound poetry, consisting of sounds only with no meaningful words.

A classic example—

Karawane

By Hugo Ball

 So my question to you is this –

Is gibberish more adept at conveying emotions than meaningful, grammatically correct sentences?

Or more importantly —

Will gibberish replace grammatically correct sentences as the prime way of communicating with others in this Internet-era where people already talk in SMS-language?

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