Saturday Night Sondheim

Honest to MaryMartin, sometimes, the only thing standing between me and suicide, is the fact that Stephen Sondheim songs sung by brilliant divas exist. I am feeling really really really not so great, and so, turn to Sondheim songs – maybe not the best choice, but, you see, at least I am sobbing FOR A REASON.

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… sunday rant 4 … somebody PLEASE help me … oh, Audra’s here …

Again, rescued from my feeling alone by musical theatre and its practitioners. I have been hearing this song in my head for days and was thinking how pissed I am that all of my old VHS tapes are in storage waiting for that day when I have my own house again which – of course will never happen – and that resulted in a new fit of fury about all the things I left behind and gave up when I had to run away to save myself and then that turned into another sad story about the people in my family and list of loved ones who treated me like a pariah and piece of “you were never really important to me” shit and so I went to play “A Little Night Music” today and realized I didn’t want the original cast recording, I wanted Audra McDonald.

I love this version. I also cry every time I sing it, into which I will neither delve nor try to explain. It happens at this lyric: “And sometime this summer, she’ll come galloping over the green/ Sometime this summer, to my rescue, my Mother, the queen.” Oh god.

And then, there is this. Which I first learned and loved from Ms Streisand – and now, tonight, Audra caresses me with it. DOWN WITH LOVE.

Down with love in-fucking-deed. You know who I thought might love me lately? Never mind. Take it away – away. Take it away. Give it back to the birds and the bees and the Viennese. Stuff that fucking dove indeed, sister.

I’m just bitter because I’m looking everywhere and haven’t found him yet. Ever. And when I have found him, he’s been a hooker, or a liar, or married, or a thief, or someone who happily throws me under buses; what he is NOT is someone who’d watch over me.

And then, there is this – which is, sadly, sort of, oh fuck I am tired, the story of my life.

Somebody, please, help me?