Alejandro: an Homage to The Monster

I've been listening to a lot of Lady Gaga lately. Why? Because it doesn't require too much thought and is generally pleasant to listen to, not to mention awesome to car dance to (try to resist, I dare you). Today I decided to watch the video for “Alejandro” for the first time because I was trapped in a house with moody animals and had nothing better to do. If you haven't seen it, here is the link—but be warned: it is sexually explicit and generally weird. If you are offended by it, please don't come crying to me about it.

I think what some of this video may be portraying is the violence and serenity of sex. Or it may just be a shocking bit of performance art. Whichever it is, those are some sublime dancing Nazis. The pure weirdness of this video inspired me to write this brief little homage to Lady Gaga. And before someone gets all upset at me for using religious imagery here, I will say this: get over. It's just a story. Enjoy!

"Alejandro" inspired story

He dances like a whirling dervish; we all pull the marionette strings, yank him to and fro. We cheer for his fashionable epilepsy, our voices a prayer to god Eros, a din so loud it stirs the soul like a pentecostal gospel. This our religion now; the painted whore our preacher. We rise to our feet and put the gilded chalice to our lips and drink in the holy wine, filling our bodies with blessed delirium. The bliss of blind faith, of a destiny free of deviation, washes over us and we are saved—born again into this world of sweat, gyrations and passionate sighs. Let us never leave this moment for we rival Saint Teresa in our burning ecstasy. Let the stars in your innocent eyes guide us to the holy land so that we may worship at your feet, servants until the day we die. Be the temple in which we can place our hope and light our little candles, praying to one day be heard, to join your kingdom. Do say you'll let us pierce you with our silver daggers and bathe in your blood.

Until then, let me pull your strings to the breaking point and move you with the cruelty of divinity. The tension is too much; your tethers snap and lay limp in my hands, an empty thing that holds rapture no more. Spent and vacant, I leave you until you become a real boy.