You know...
I have one of those really hard to believe faces.
It's sensual, it's sexual.
At times it's just downright hard to believe.
I wish you could kiss me right now. Just the side of my nose.
A silly little peck, so to speak...
as it were.
But I'm so glad you can see how truly beautiful I am...
right now.
When Sandra was in New York with her smash hit one-woman show...
she became too grand.
Way out of hand.
I said, "Lady, you've got to get a grip on yourself!"
We had to pull in the reins on her.
So, we came back to LA where she began, her roots...
to upscale supper clubs like the Parisian Room.
One, two.
One, two, three, four.
My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is woolly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
Inflicted again and again
What do they call me?
They call me Aunt Sarah
Yes, Aunt Sarah
Second woman.
My skin is tan
My hair is fine
Whichever way I fix it
My hips invite you, Daddy
My mouth like wine
Whose little girl am I?
Anyone who has money to buy
What do they call me?
At Sunset and Western
They call me sweet thing
My skin is brown
My manner is tough
I'll kill the first mother I see
My life has been rough
I'm awfully bitter these days
My parents were slaves
What do they call me?
My name is
Peaches
Sarah Bernhardt, ladies and gentlemen.
Lady traveled all the way here from New York City.
So let's give her our support.
And speaking of ladies, oh, Lord.
I'm not gonna waste another minute.
Here she is.
Our very own lucky star.
The original...
Shoshanna.
All right, we're gonna start off with some Israeli folk songs.
Join in.
Normally I live in New York, the Big Apple.
But I'm back in LA, the Lady, and I'm making the best of it.
I spent a lot of time back East as a child on family vacations.
We went to the 1965 New York World's Fair in 1964.
I never understood that.
I remember the day that my mother and I...
were supposed to meet my father and my brother at the Indonesian Pavilion.
Who could remember Indonesian, let alone Pavilion?
It was all such a new concept.
No one speaks of pavilions anymore...
and that saddens me.
Funny Girl was hot that year, and I begged my father to take us to see it...
but he couldn't get a single ticket.
Instead he took us to see a matinee of Any Wednesday, with Sandy Dennis.
He said, "Let's go see a woman who'll be doing the same thing for the next 20 years. "
But she did it best in Any Wednesday, you have to admit.
When I go back East to New York to visit friends I made...
during the run of my smash hit one-woman show...
and I drive in from JFK...
and pass what remains of the '65 World's Fair...
the Unisphere tarnished, the rocket ships burned out and crumbling...
I look back over my shoulder and break down and weep...
over what could have been, but what was never meant to be.
Streisand was the best she'll ever be that year.
She was "Simply Barbra"...
with the Egyptian eyeliner eye, the pageboy, the long red fingernails...
singing songs like, "Free again.
"Lucky, lucky me, free again. "
And then she moved out to Hollywood, and she crimped her hair...
and she went down the stony end.
She never wanted to go down the stony end.
But somebody forced her down the stony end.
We miss you, Barbra.
Come back to the five-and-dime...
Barbra Streisand.
In the town where I grew up, Flint, Michigan...
there used to be this woman...
the wife of a really successful businessman...
and mother of three pretty little girls...
who used to have middle-of-the-night nervous breakdowns.
My father would run out in his silk boxer shorts to see what was going on.
He did the same thing in tornadoes.
I remember hearing sirens.
They woke me up in a neighborhood where nothing strange ever happened.
They came to take my neighbor away, and I wanted to know why.
I can recall to this day the thrill of knowing...
someone in an all-American family who was losing her grip.
The thought of the family hovering together, terrified, really turned me on.
It was as if I could go over and reassure them...
and tell them I would take care of everything.
Sometimes in the winter, on the ice, two ambulances would collide.
Then they'd have to send two or three more...
depending on whether the drivers got hurt or not.
And it made for a memorable winter sight...
back when you could see through ambulance windows...
when they were Cadillac station wagons.
Some old person wrapped in a red blanket was on their way home from the hospital.
The daughter sitting forlornly in the front seat thinking to herself:
"Well, I'm really glad she's okay.
"But now this means I have to cook special meals...
"and overcook the vegetables and help feed her...
"and I'm already so exhausted. "
It was a portrait Norman Rockwell forgot to paint.
Someone's Mother Home Again, in oils.
When I was a little girl, I used to go home for lunch every day.
And I'd pretend that my mother was a waitress in a roadside cafe.
"I'll have a side order, ma'am. "
A side order consisted of a chunk of white meat tuna...
a dollop of mayonnaise, some carrot strips and potato chips.
And then I'd sit at the counter and ignore her.
My parents got divorced five years ago, after 38 years of marriage.
I thought, "Oh, what perfect timing. "
My father turned right around and married this Gentile woman...
with a little blonde bubble hairdo and no lips, named Brenda.
The first time I met her...
Dad came for me and my brother at my mom's house, in a Thunderbird.
I got in the back seat, said, "Dad, why didn't you bring a bigger car?"
And she said, "Don't bitch, we could have brought the Trans-Am.
"Don't wear your seat belt. Where I come from, people die...
"they burn up when they wear their seat belt. "
Charmed.
We were taken to the house they were renting together...
on Shea Boulevard in Scottsdale, Arizona.
They had these cluster globe lamps from Levitz Furniture.
I met her three teenage heavy metalloid kids, who were back from a Judas Priest concert.
The kind of kids who sit in their bedroom going:
"Fuck that Jew, man. We don't have to take this shit!"
The last time I went anywhere with my parents before the divorce...
we'd gone to Vegas, because I was doing the telethon with Jerry Lewis.
And we'd just had dinner at the Stardust Hotel...
one of the eight international restaurants.
I believe it was Aku Aku, the Polynesian.
My mother grabbed a handful of after-dinner mints...
and she started choking on them.
So me and my brother walked really far ahead in the casino.
Dad finally got her a glass of water, she washed it all down, and she went:
"Oh, my God, there must have been dust on those mints. "
My father's a proctologist, my mother's an abstract artist.
That's how I view the world.
There was something really great about growing up...
in a liberal intellectual Jewish household, with three sensitive older brothers.
But there were times, that I really got caught up...
in the romance of being Gentile, especially around Christmas time.
I would fantasize that I had an older brother named Chip...
and a little sister named Sally...
and my name would either be Happy or Buffy or Babe...
one of those big, sexy blondes who plays a lot of volleyball.
"Yes, spike it, Babe. All right! Yes!"
And every Christmas Eve, my mom would make a glazed ham...
with cloves sticking out of it...
and a hot, canned fruit compote.
Mom.
And then we'd sit around the piano.
My mother in a beautiful burgundy velveteen dress...
my father with his sleeves rolled up, smoking a pipe...
his Golden Lab at his side...
and we'd sing Christmas carols.
Oh, Tannenbaum, oh, Tannenbaum
Chip would harmonize.
Tannenbaum, oh, Tannenbaum
And then we'd get ready for midnight church services.
We'd sit together, our arms around each other in the pew.
My father would donate 10% of his income as they passed the basket by.
So proud to be a part of Christian society.
Back home I remove what little makeup I need to wear with Clinique products...
and slip into a flannel Lanz nightgown.
Laying in bed, wrapping the comforter around myself...
staring out at the snowfall, dreaming of all the Christmases past...
and all the Christmases to come when I'd have a family of my own.
And like every Christmas Eve, Chip would come in.
"Oh, God, Chip, you are so cute.
"I wish you weren't my brother so I could fuck you.
"Honey, I brought you the coolest Christmas present.
"You're gonna die, this is so neat.
"Chip, what's wrong? You seem sad. It's Christmas. "
"I don't know, Babe, it's my last year of high school.
"I want to do really good on the SAT...
"so I can get into a great college and play football.
"I'm kind of worried Mom and Dad might break up. "
"Oh, honey, that's not gonna happen. You're too sensitive.
"Sally, is that you outside that door, you little butthole?
"If it is you, you won't get your Christmas present.
"Oh, God, Chip, I hate her. "
"She's all right, Babe. She's just a little girl. "
Mom comes in in a robe and furry slippers.
"What are you two kids up to?
"I'm so darn proud of the two of you.
"Babe, tonight in church, in that Laura Ashley dress...
"you were magnificent.
"And thanks for helping me in the kitchen.
"Don't know what I'd do without you, kitten.
"Chip, you've turned into such a fine young man.
"But what is with that hung-dog look on your face tonight, mister?"
"I don't know, Mom, I'm just worried you and Dad might get divorced. "
"Oh, no. Not us. Not the Jensens.
"We're not going anywhere.
"Sure, your father may be going through a little bit of a mid-life crisis.
"But I worship that man and I adore you kids.
"You've both been under so much pressure lately...
"what with the cotillion coming up, Babe.
"Get some sleep.
"Grandma's coming over real early.
"We have some terrific presents to open.
"Sweet dreams. Love you.
"And may all your Christmases be white. "
Joy to the world
The Lord has come
I was responsible for creating the Bernhard edge.
I groomed her for success.
I handpicked her gowns, I did her makeup and her hair.
And on the road, I did her sound and her lights...
Oh, so many lights.
You know, I had to sit...
my big, fat, tired, lazy ass down.
What a relief. I'm exhausted.
We've been all over the country...
me and my Jewish piano player.
You know how we people get along so well.
I think it's time to mellow things out a little bit right now.
I know you're in the mood because I certainly am.
Let's get to know the crowd just a little bit better.
What do you say? Do we have any Scorpios in the house?
Oh, yes, I feel your sexual energy knocking me off my chair.
Virgos, will you please stop cleaning and pay attention to the show?
Leos, can we talk about me for a change?
Geminis, there's so many of you.
Pisces, Cancers, don't bother to show your faces.
I can't deal with you tonight.
You know, the show is being brought to you tonight by the wonderful Mustang Motel...
where you get your closed-circuit TV and everything else that's so wonderful...
including the stereo jazz sounds...
of KKGO.
And we've been breaking this song in at a club that no longer exists...
but did exist when we broke this song in The Parisian Room.
With my very dear friend, Miss Cardelia D'Milo.
If you who remember Cardelia, she did things her way.
And we did things our way all the time, darling.
And I would love to dedicate the show tonight...
to all of those who enjoy Remy Martin.
Because I love to sit around my motel room after my show in my bra and panties...
and I'll say to somebody:
"Get me a Remy Martin with a water back, God damn it! Thank you. "
I know they like it, and I do, too.
And this show also goes out tonight...
to all of you who enjoy relating to a pretty lady...
like myself.
Me and Mrs. Jones
Thank you.
We've got a thing going on
We both know that it's so wrong
But it's much too strong
to let it cool now
We meet every day at that same cafe
6:30, you know, I know, all right
I know she'll be there
Holding hands Making all kinds of plans
While the jukebox plays our favorite song
Me and Mrs.
Mrs. Jones. Oh, Mrs. Jones...
who knew when we first met over a Remy Martin...
her being an Aquarius, myself being a Gemini...
that we would become so involved so quickly, so intensely?
We were both seeing other people when we first met.
Before we knew it, we'd gotten ourselves in much too deep, child.
Way over our heads.
I'll tell you something else, ladies and gentlemen...
and you've got to believe me when I say it, because...
no, I have never lied.
Oh, when it's time for us to be leaving
It hurts so much inside
Well, she'll go her way and I'll go mine
But tomorrow We'll meet at the same place
At the same time
Me and
Mrs. Jones
We've got a thing
A fundamentally funky thing
Going on and on
Get the funk out of my face, Mrs. Jones
We keep going on
Me
and Mrs.
Jones
Me and Mrs. Jones.
The sisters are doing it for themselves.
Once again, ladies and gentlemen...
Sarah Bernhardt. Let's give the lady our support.
And now, the one you've been waiting for.
The one you're desperately seeking.
Our very own, the original...
Shoshanna.
You know what I'm in the mood for right now?
A little bit of Burt.
Delicious.
But a chair is not a house
And a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
You know, recently, Newsweek did a cover story...
about the chances of a woman over 35 getting married.
And apparently, they aren't too damn good.
Statistics say you have a better chance of going to Europe...
and getting killed by a terrorist.
Needless to say, I wasn't too damn happy to get this news.
All right, marriage has never been a priority to me.
But you know what? I'd like my options left open.
What girl doesn't?
I was trying to figure out...
who was making us women feel shitty about ourselves again.
I tried remembering what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I found myself reminiscing about the woman I could have been.
Originally, it was my plan to move to San Francisco...
and become an executive secretary.
The day I arrive, my furniture is already there.
My chintz foldout couch looks like a million bucks in my studio apartment...
as do my split bamboo curtains from Pier 1 Imports.
I get up early my first day on the job...
and choose something by Courreges to wear.
I fix a light breakfast, a slice of whole-wheat toast...
cottage cheese with pineapple pieces, a cup of decaf with cinnamon.
I arrive at work, steno pad in hand, three sharpened pencils.
My boss is rattling off dictation.
My shorthand? Perfection.
He looks up and says, "Are you finished yet?"
I say, "I was finished before I began. "
I notice his left hand. No wedding ring.
I'm beginning to like this man.
As I walk down the hallway to get him his coffee, black.
"Hold the cream!" "I'd love to. "
I stay late to impress him.
But on the way home it's like I'm flying through the streets of San Francisco...
through my door, removing my boots...
giving my lower back a full range of motion...
as recommended by Cosmopolitan magazine.
I feel confident as I step into my bath...
remembering I've already applied my Rubbermaid Daisies.
I soak for hours in Calgon Bouquet...
with cool cucumber slices on my eyes.
I shampoo my hair with Herbal Essence Shampoo.
I smell like a garden of earthly delights.
I step out carefully, grabbing my Fieldcrest 100% cotton...
oversized towel rubbing myself down vigorously...
bringing much-needed blood to the surface of the skin.
I glow as I splash on Love's Fresh Lemon.
I chose to put my hair up. I put in some baby's breath.
I look really pretty.
There's a knock on the door.
It's the first day on the job and the first date with the boss...
and he takes me on a tour of San Francisco I never dreamed possible.
We begin on Lombard Street, the crookedest street in the world.
And I never felt straighter.
Down to Ghirardelli Square.
He buys me a giant chocolate kiss. Why not?
Over at Fisherman's Wharf, we share a Shrimp Louie.
And to top the evening off...
the most incredible drag show I've ever seen...
at Finocchio's.
We walk home together, shyly, hand in hand.
Cutting two imposing figures through the fog.
I hesitate briefly before inviting him in for a nightcap.
Your love
We stare, looking out over the view of the Bay.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, caressing my huge breasts.
We fall dramatically backwards into my couch bed which is remarkably open.
And as I lean over to turn off the lamp...
and the modular furniture fades into the mist...
I realize one thing:
I'll never be a statistic, not me.
I'm under 35 and I'm going to be married!
So many nights like this
This house became a home, yeah
This house is now our home, wow
This house became a home, yeah
This house is now our home, wow
This house is a home
Joe Baumgarten and Sandra were lovers for about three years.
I've known Joe since we were kids.
You know, we grew up together in the San Fernando Valley.
I mean, Joe completely changed Sandra.
You know, he told her what to wear, he gave her a new hairdo, of course.
He told her how to wear her makeup. She was pretty geeky when they first met.
But I remember the day Joe called me and said:
"Steve, Sandra Bernhard is totally pursuing me. "
And he was completely not into it.
But she was very persistent...
and, you know, eventually, he got really into her.
But, see, she wasn't his type.
But then even at one point, he believed that she was his type.
But it was kind of funny.
I mean, the irony is that Joe was always very ashamed...
of being from the San Fernando Valley.
And he always emphasized that he was from the Hills...
as opposed to being, you know, from the Valley.
So...
he finally got out of the Valley, moved to Hollywood...
met Sandra Bernhard...
and wound up back in the Valley where Sandra bought a Spanish bungalow.
And they ended up living together.
Okay, pretend it's 1978...
and you're straight.
Your best buddy calls you up one night and says:
"I haven't seen you in a long time. Let's get together tonight.
"Let's go to a party, to a disco. "
"That sounds like a great idea.
"I just broke up with this Playboy Bunny. I busted open her lip.
"She split town.
"Yeah, I'll come by 10:00, we'll shoot the shit...
"and have some brewskies. Sounds cool. "
So he comes, you're catching up on old times, having some laughs...
getting ready to go out. Put on a pair of khaki pants...
Topsiders, Brooks Brothers shirt. Go down to get in his car.
"Hey, man, you got a Camaro? You're doing great. "
Then he starts driving around town...
he gets real quiet, kind of introverted, doesn't say too much.
Keeps looking at himself in the rear view mirror, fixing his hair.
Then he starts driving down some dark alleys you've never been down before.
He pulls up to the bumper, jumps out of the car, slams the door, runs up.
You've never seen a guy run up stairs like this before.
You walk up behind him, standing around looking inside, it's kind of smoky.
You don't see any girls.
Wait a minute, maybe you do.
Couple dancing together, short hair, flannel shirts, big fat asses.
Not your kind of girls.
You go over to the bar and you're leaning there, having a beer.
Suddenly this guy starts walking towards you...
in a real tight pair of five-button Levi's.
Yellowing tank top, handlebar mustache, red bandanna hanging out of his left pocket.
He says, "Hey, I'd like to buy you a beer.
"Yeah, well, I've got one already. "
At this point, your best buddy has disappeared.
Thanks a lot, man.
This guy pulls out a little bottle and shoves it up underneath your nose.
They're poppers, you've never smelled them and they stink.
You're starting to feel kind of sexy, hot, sweaty and fucked up and into the rhythm.
He leads you to the dance floor, but in your head, it keeps echoing:
"But I'm straight, man, I'm straight. "
Somebody hands you a tambourine.
Suddenly, in the corner of the disco...
you see a big black man with a gold lamé caftan looming above the crowd.
He has a blond afro and red lipstick smeared across his face.
He's a black angel, there to take you higher!
You feel like Columbus crossing the Atlantic.
You've discovered the New World. You feel free.
Thank God Almighty, free at last!
Do it, Sylvester! Do it, girl!
Do I have a witness?
When he touches you in the night, does it feel all right?
Or does it feel real?
I say it feels real, mighty real.
When he runs his fingers up and down your spine, does it feel fine?
Divine.
Put your legs up in the air...
do it in a chair.
I feel real
I said I feel, I feel real
I feel so real
Remember, it's 1989.
Yes, it is.
And you can pretend that you're straight.
Good bye, Calvin.
I had a blast tonight, Bianca.
Oh, Liza, you are so sweet.
What does become a legend most?
You, lady, you.
Truman, if you're having any problem finishing your book...
call me, I'm listed, I will help you.
Goodnight, Andy.
Amen
So it was opening night of Sandra's show in New York.
Joe and I had flown in for it.
So I told Joe, "You better get it together...
"you better get on the phone and get her flowers.
"Send them backstage to the theater. "
But Joe was too busy getting his look together...
because it was opening night...
Richard Gere, all the big stars were gonna be there, Jodie Foster.
You know, we had just done The Accused together.
She was my new best friend for five minutes...
but since then, she's shined me on since she won the Academy Award.
So I had to get on the phone...
and try to get somebody to deliver flowers to the theater...
but it was 6:00 already and all the places were closed.
So Joe says to me:
"Listen, she doesn't need flowers from me.
"Everybody'll send her flowers. What's the difference, man?"
But really, you know, he was too busy getting his look together.
As usual.
While I was in New York during the run of my smash hit one-woman show one day...
I was shopping for some bric-a-brac...
to be placed very carefully on my adorable Saarinen tulip end tables.
I believe it was somewhere on the Upper East Side...
around 79th and York.
I walked past this one building and I ran into all these people I knew.
I saw Bianca, and Calvin and Kelly Klein.
I said, "Hey, you guys, what's going on?"
They said, "Oh, it's the big Warhol Estate auction today at Sotheby's.
"You know, Andy's auction. "
I said, "Oh, my God, I forgot all about it. "
So I went in with them, and it was amazing.
It was like this incredible collage of Americana throughout the eras.
There was Joan Quinn bidding on Fiestaware...
and there were those marvelous, great cookie jars with black mammies.
This kitsch wasn't shit.
This was good quality kitsch, the kind of kitsch you want in your house.
And there was the Jean-Michel Basquiat paintings...
which I could kick myself for not buying.
Who knew he was going to die except somebody like Andy...
and Andy died first, and, my God, those paintings are worth a fortune now.
I mean, there was just everything, every facet of American culture:
The Arts and Crafts Movement, WPA, Art Deco, on and on...
a wonderful array of everything.
And I went into one room and there was amazing stacks and stacks...
of Navajo blankets, rugs, baskets and weavings.
And I thought to myself:
"Leave it to Andy to have the insight and sensitivity...
"into the hours of toil and labor that went into the Indian product...
"that they've been so lucky to cash in on this whole Santa Fe thing happening. "
Andy really understood the concept of potlatch.
And I started bidding on this one marvelous, beautiful Indian rug...
against Ralph Lauren, aka Lipschitz.
And I thought, "Oh, God, I'm going to lose it 'cause he's such a freak for this stuff. "
But all of a sudden, he just stopped bidding and I got the blanket.
It was so poetic.
I walked outside and it was really chilly, so I wrapped it around myself...
and I got kind of nostalgic and really sad, and I started crying.
And my tears hit the blanket...
and the smell of the desert rose up into my nostrils.
The smell of the ocotillo, the prickly pear...
the crucifixion thorn, the stately saguaro...
the red clay of the Painted Desert.
And suddenly the East Village became the Painted Desert.
And I felt like fucking Georgia O'Keeffe...
walking through the Grand Canyon of Fifth Avenue.
I started thinking, "Here I am, this young girl from Arizona...
"and all my dreams are coming true in New York. "
And then I looked around and I realized that no matter how far I'd come...
that New York was just as barren...
desolate, and arid...
as the Arizona Desert itself.
Hear that lonesome
whippoorwill
He sounds too blue
to fly
The midnight train
is whining low
And I'm so lonesome
I could cry
Have you ever seen
a robin weep?
As leaves begin
to die
It means he's lost
the will to live
And I'm so lonesome
I could cry
Then I walked into my fabulous Soho loft...
and tossed the blanket over the back of the couch...
and I just sat there thinking for a minute about Andy...
and how disappointed I was for him that he couldn't be there to share in my success...
my summer of success, my superstar summer.
And I hoped and prayed that my success would last longer than 15 minutes.
Then I began to realize, out of all the women Andy had immortalized...
Nico, Edie Sedgwick, Candy Darling, Marilyn...
they were all gone.
But ironically enough, the one thing Andy left behind that still had resonance...
was sitting right before me...
a conglomerate, my lunch, a bowl of Campbell's Soup.
And I felt Andy with me...
and suddenly, I didn't feel so alone...
anymore.
The silence of
a falling star
Lights up
a purple sky
And as I wonder
where you are
I'm so lonesome
I could cry
I'm digging
my own fuckin' scene
Right before Sandra left for New York to do the show...
a lot of shit was coming down.
I mean, Sandra was major stressing out...
and Joe was unsupportive and self-involved as usual.
You know, he was getting really loaded all the time...
and staying out all night with Tatiana and Ashley, those two really big models.
So one night he's doing this shoot with Tatiana...
and he's supposed to be home at, like, midnight...
and he comes in at, like, 6:00 in the morning, hair's all wet.
His dog, Niko, the German shepherd, doesn't even recognize him.
Starts barking, growling, and freaking out. And Sandra totally lost it.
It was insane. They had this huge fight and oh, God...
It was funny.
Yeah, you're so incredible.
Oh, yeah. Don't stop, try harder please.
Yeah, yes.
It's finally over.
I broke up with this guy about a month ago.
Really amazing guy.
Beautiful guy.
So butch. Really cool.
He had really long hair, and sometimes he just wore it back.
Sometimes he wore it in a ponytail. He worked it, like, a 100 different ways.
Sometimes he wore dreadlocks that were so hip.
Okay, he's the hottest hair stylist in LA.
He does all the big stars, including me.
His name is Joe, just so you get a visual feel for him.
He went out on the road for about five days with Jodie Foster...
who was doing a big promotional campaign for The Accused...
which she was so great in, so convincing.
I'm so happy for her.
I mean, it was like a fucking documentary. She was so real in it.
So, anyway...
he came home a day early to surprise me...
and I was in bed with this guy and...
It was a fucking nightmare, you know.
Before I met Joe, I was into this whole S & M thing.
Sometimes I would just go out and pick up this guy and say:
"Smack me around a little bit. You know how to do it. "
And I got hurt a couple of times, but Joe wasn't into it.
It was too much of a commitment.
So he walked in and busted us and left.
I crashed really bad for about three days.
And that's the main reason that...
I wanted to come back to LA.
I felt so guilty, facing the responsibility, knowing what I had done.
So I just sat down one day, and I started to write him this big long letter...
just to get it all out.
And I said things to him that I'd never said before.
Like...
Jesus Christ, Joe, I feel so bad.
You're such a terrific guy.
But you know I've been in and out of these fucked-up relationships for 10 years...
and maybe it's time that I stood on my own two feet...
looked myself in the eye and said:
"Hey, get it together, lady. "
I'm sorry you had to walk in on that ugly scene.
It should have never had to end that way.
I should have been an adult...
and tell you I need to strike out on my own...
but I love you.
I mean, it's come to the point where I can't describe how bad I feel...
where I can't apologize in words.
But I hope you're having a beautiful birthday...
and know that I'm thinking of you...
always.
I never meant
to hurt you
I'm not that way at all
Please believe
the words of a heart
A heart that seems
so small
And I swear
I never meant to hurt you
I guess I lost my place
Please believe
the words of a heart
A heart
that hides its face
Why do I do
the things
I never mean to do?
Why did I speak
so carelessly
when all that I felt
was love
for you?
And, Joe, while I'm really expressing myself here...
you know, there were times you weren't so fucking great yourself, man, you know?
If you asked me one more time:
"Honey, should I wash my hair before I go to bed...
"or when I get up in the morning before I go to work?"...
I was gonna kill you.
On top of that, if I didn't give you an answer...
you'd call four or five friends and ask them the exact same thing...
while I was laying in bed next to you trying to sleep.
And then you wanted a dog. Fine.
You wanted a German shepherd. I said, "Okay, honey, I'll get you a dog.
"You're living with me. " But six weeks would go by...
before you'd walk outside and notice that the shit hadn't been cleaned up.
It was petrified!
No, darling, the dog doesn't walk to the grocery store to feed itself.
You have to feed the goddamn dog.
I mean it was starved four or five times.
I love the dog, I don't mind feeding it, but can I get it off my chest?
And if you spent one more hour in that bathroom fixing your hair...
when I needed to get out on an audition, I was going to strangle you.
I felt like I was with a woman.
By the size of your dick, I should've been with one.
And I'll tell you something else.
I've erased the word "supportive" from my vocabulary.
It's hard enough for me to get behind organized religion...
let alone a course in miracles.
And if you want to go the ashram and chant, fine, but I'm not going with you.
And while we're being really honest here...
now that we're not together, here's her number!
Call Madonna and fuck the bitch!
And while you're at it, fuck Martika!
I swear
I never
meant to hurt you
I've got to make you know
Please believe
the words of a heart
A heart
that didn't show
I never meant to hurt you
I only meant to love you
It's true
And when I saw you
Crying
I
cried
too
What can I say about Sandra's artistry?
After all, she is an artist first, last, and always.
And let's be frank.
She doesn't have any influences. She doesn't need any.
And if you want my opinion...
they've all stolen from her: Donna Summer, Tina Turner...
Whoopi Goldberg, Nina Simone.
And I have even seen traces of Sandra in Diana Ross.
You know, when I was in New York recently...
I was talking to a friend of mine on the other coast.
And I sensed an urgency in his voice that I'd never heard before.
I said, "Baby, you sound down. What's going on?"
He said, "It just seems these days when I need anybody, they're not around. "
I said, "You know what, hang in there. I'm gonna get right back to you. "
I hung up and I made myself a late night reservation...
on MGM Grand Airways.
A late night flight into LA.
And I got in and I rented myself a Mercedes convertible.
And I was driving up Mulholland and I popped into Trader Joe's...
and picked up a chilled bottle of Cristal...
and I got to his door and I knocked hard several times...
and he didn't answer right away. There was a moment that I panicked.
That I thought he'd done something rash.
When he finally came to the door, I'd never seen him look worse.
I said, "Mister, you look like hell. "
He grabbed me, he was so happy to see me.
I said, "I just want you to know something.
"If you should ever need me, I'll be here in a hurry.
"On that you can depend.
"And, baby, please...
"don't ever worry. "
No wind
no rain
or winter storm
can stop me, babe
Oh, babe
Baby
If you should call
And then we sat around on high barstools...
around his butcher-block kitchen table...
eating cold chicken and Mrs. Field's chocolate chip cookies.
And I was quiet for a while, but then I finally turned to him, I said:
"Look, nobody promised you it was going to be easy being celebrity communists.
"And I know Gary Hart let you down.
"Who the hell didn't he disappoint over and over?
"But, mister, if this is about Ishtar, I'm getting up right now...
"and walking out of your life forever...
"because that's too self-indulgent for even me. "
And he grabbed me by the wrist and hurt me and said, "No. "
I said, "Listen, if you should ever need me, I'll be here in a hurry.
"On that you can depend and never worry. "
No wind
no rain
or winter storm
can stop me, babe
Oh, babe
Baby
If you should call
And then we went for that long walk down the hallway to his bedroom.
Where we sat on crisp, white linen Pratesi sheets.
We smoked grass and talked.
We did some ecstasy and talked a lot more.
We talked about the state of mankind...
the decline of Western civilization and what the hell we were going to do to stop it.
And just when I got so depressed...
I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown...
he rolled me over and started kissing me...
like he hadn't kissed me in years, and I wanted that man.
I wanted him inside of me.
But all of a sudden, I said:
"Stop. Do you have any rubbers?"
"Would you mind putting one on? While you're at it, make it two.
"And I would feel just a little bit better if you'd apply...
"some spermicidal jams and jellies to the area. "
"Oh, baby, it's no reflection on how much I care about you.
"We all know you've been around. "
I stopped in the name of love.
"But I just want you to know...
"that no matter where, no matter how far...
"I want you to be able to look up in the sky...
"and wish on your lucky star.
"Because if you should ever need me, I'll be here in a hurry.
"On that you can depend and never worry!"
Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from you
Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river
wide enough
to keep me
from getting to you
Here she is, ladies and gentlemen, our very own...
new lucky star...
Sarah Bernhardt.
Out of all the decades we've exploited...
and we've exploited all of them...
the '70s remain the least understood...
and, yet, to me, the most intriguing and pivotal...
to my aesthetic and philosophy.
When I try to think of the one person who capsulized it...
to me it was Patti Smith.
She was a prophetess.
She saw so far into the future she could afford to take 10 years off...
and not say another word.
The one thing that she said that rings true to me today...
and has become my anthem and goal in life is:
"I may not have fucked much with the past...
"but I have fucked plenty with the future. "
I'd like to believe in that quote...
and all the other wonderful sayings of the past.
But it's hard to be that optimistic these days.
Perhaps Cher said it best when she said:
"Miniskirts were once the rage...
"and history has turned a page. "
Drums keep pounding rhythm...
to the brain.
And the beat goes on.
It starts with the beat of the heart...
the beat of the drum...
thundering from the jungles of Africa to Harlem.
The tomtom in the Arizona desert, the Navajo.
The marching snare in the streets of Skokie, Illinois.
The beat of the Beat Poets, Jack and Ginsburg.
The black poets, Amiri Baraka and Nikki Giovanni.
Of rock 'n' roll, heavy metal, R & B, gospel...
the offbeat of Coltrane and Charlie Mingus.
I've got the blues so bad
I lay down in bed
I've got the blues for my baby
And those goddamn drums keep pounding
in my head
The beat that is heard in our factories, our industries...
the unheard beat, the never-heard footfall of the homeless...
on our city streets.
It is heard in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East...
from Iran to Nicaragua.
The hammer and the sickle and the irrepressible beat of the dissident.
The gong of the Chinese student massacred in Tiananmen Square.
The beat that is heard in our inner cities, in crack houses and tenements.
Our bored suburban youths flick at their cigarette.
Like Woody Guthrie...
my beat spans across America.
Its voracious appetite chews up our rain forests.
The heartbeat never heard again of our lost species.
Gandhi had the beat, silent as it was.
Lech Walesa has the beat, the polka beat.
Martin Luther King had the beat and a dream.
Marilyn had the beat on Bobby and Jack. The beat is heard through Nelson Mandela.
Jane Fonda apologized but not Barbarella.
Even Mother Teresa has a lowdown funky beat.
Arafat has a beat, keeping it completely discreet.
The beat is something that is beyond our comprehension...
yet guides, propels, forces us into the future.
The future is the beat of a faded song never heard.
Some may call it God, Allah, the life force, libido.
The beat thundered through Sister Rosa in the first integrated bus.
The first integrated concert in Mobile, Alabama...
with Shelley Winters and Nina Simone. Through Malcolm X...
our Black Panther brothers, the Chicago Seven...
Tania and the SLA.
The revolution will not be televised.
From Christopher Street to Castro...
from the night at Stonewall to the week Judy Garland died...
from Little Richard to Liberace, there is an undeniable beat.
We are living in very suppressive times.
We try to turn our back on that beat and the rhythm.
But eventually it rises up in us and we cannot turn our backs.
There is something I want to ask you
There is something that I want to know
To this question you have the answer
So tell me what I want to know
Do you want to funk?
Won't you tell me now?
If you want to funk I can show you how
Do you want to funk with me?
If I tell you
that you're really something, baby
Will you kiss my ass?
Or will you go away?
Don't go away
If I lay my good lovin' on you
What will it cost me, baby?
What will I have to pay?
You always make me pay
Do you want to funk?
Won't you tell me now?
If you want to funk I can show you how
Do you want to funk with me?
Now everybody tries to fight the funk in the late '80s.
Jerry Falwell tries to fight the funk, and he tells us to fight the funk.
Jerry Falwell will give in to the funk.
Jimmy Swaggart tried to fight the funk. He got funky on us. He funked up.
Jimmy Bakker got caught with his finger in the funk.
Even Jesus Christ was tempted by the funk in the desert.
Now you may look at this woman sitting next to you and think, "I want to funk her. "
Or you may look across the room and think, "I want to funk her or funk him. "
Maybe you'll all funk together. Eventually, everyone will funk!
You cannot fight the funk.
The funk fights fascism, racism, sexism, homophobia!
You have to work the funk, bring the funk back into our lives...
because the funk is the beat, and the beat is the rhythm, and rhythm is life.
We cannot fight the funk!
You are gonna funk
You are gonna funk, you ingrate motherfuckers
You must funk with me
I was just leaving the club...
and I was doing some thinking.
I just came back out here to tell you that everything I said to you tonight...
was a complete lie.
I'm a total phony and a fraud.
And the critics are right, I am a petty, bilious girl.
And I will cut the fame shit out for just this moment.
If I could, I would return your cover on your two-drink minimum...
and every penny you people have spent here tonight.
I'm sorry, I can't do that.
Because without me... Without you, I'm nothing.
You know, I always wanted to be the kind of person who really took chances in life.
Someone who got off of the main highways...
and took those little back roads and byways...
and experienced the kind of an America that few of us get to see.
A bittersweet, nostalgic...
brave America.
I wanted to walk through the Midwest early in the morning...
and watch all the farmers on their way to work...
in the amber fields of grain in Nebraska...
to pick strawberries next to my Chicano brothers and sisters...
underneath the hot California sun...
to watch the morning light shining off the Lady Of The Harbor...
onto all the Korean grocers as they stock their salad bars.
These were the sounds, sights, and smells...
that I wanted to incorporate in my worldview...
to learn to change my own damn tires...
and get dirt under my nails and jack up my car...
and live life to the fullest.
I never wanted to depend on AAA.
I don't know if I've become that kind of a person.
But I would like to dedicate this last song tonight to all those who came before me...
and forged those emotional and aesthetic highways...
that I've traveled down so effortlessly.
To those who have the guts to live life right on the edge.
I dedicate this song to Apollonia...
to Sheila E, to Vanity...
to Lisa and Wendy on their own...
to all that the glamorous life implies.
But above all, I want to dedicate this song to the purple paisley God himself...
to the little man who chooses to sit all alone, naked...
under a cherry moon.
Lovesexy. It's the sign of the times.
I guess I should have known
by the way you parked your car sideways
That it wouldn't last
'Cause you're the kind of person
who believes in making out once
Love 'em and leave 'em fast
I guess I must be dumb
You had a pocketful of horses
Trojans, and some of them used
But it was Saturday night
I guess that makes it all right, and you said
"What have I got to lose?"
And, honey, I said
"Little red Corvette
"Baby, you're much too fast
"Little red Corvette
"You need a love
"A love that's gonna last"
I guess I should have closed my eyes
when you took me to the place
where your horses run free
'Cause I felt a little ill
when you showed me the pictures
of the jockeys that were there before me
Believe it or not
I started to worry
wondering if I had enough class
But it was Saturday night
I guess that makes it all right
And you said, "Hey, baby, do you have enough gas?"
Little red Corvette
Baby, you're much too fast
Little red Corvette
You need a love
A love that's gonna last
And the ride I said the ride that's going to last
I said the ride that's got to last
I said the ride
When you leave here tonight, wherever you go in your lives...
whoever you become...
if you should wake up one long, lonely night...
and feel that you're all alone, remember, you are.
And that wherever I've gone in my life...
whoever I've become, whether I'm alone...
whether I'm with somebody and very much in love.
I wish you could be there to see how happy I've become and share in my joy.
But until the time we meet again, and I know we will...
remember, I'll be out there holding a kind thought for each and every one of you...
kindling the tiniest of flames...
until it burns down so low that it almost flickers and powders and dies.
And when it does, that's when we'll meet again.
But until that time, remember and never forget...
that I will always...
love you.
I guess I should have known by the way you parked your car sideways
That it wouldn't last
'Cause you're the kind of person who believes in making out once
Love 'em and leave 'em fast
I guess I must be dumb 'cause you had a pocketful of horses
Trojans, some of them used
But it was Saturday night I guess that makes it all right
And you said, "What have I got to lose?"
And, honey, I said
"Little red Corvette
"Baby, you're much too fast
"Little red Corvette
"You need a love that's gonna last"
I guess I should have closed my eyes
When you drove me to the place where your horses run free
'Cause I felt a little ill when I saw all the pictures
of the jockeys that were there before me
Believe it or not, I started to worry
Wondering if I had enough class
But it was Saturday night I guess that makes it all right
And you said, "Baby, have you got enough gas?"
Oh, yeah, little red Corvette
Baby, you're much too fast
Yes, you are Little red Corvette
You need to find a love that's gonna last
A body like yours ought to be in jail
'Cause it's on the verge of being obscene
Move over, baby, give me the keys
I'm gonna try to tame your little red love machine
Little red Corvette
You've got to slow down Got to slow down
Little red Corvette
'Cause if you don't
You're gonna run your body right to the ground
Little red Corvette
Ripped by: SkyFury