The Nativity, The Passion, The Pascha Pop Soul of Lady Gaga’s “The Cure”

Anthropopogy // Culture, Deconstruction, Prophile, Soundtrek, TK:LA

Live from the Calvary that is Coachella, welcome to this Pop Communion that is The Cure …


Feels, on, reals.

So it is and, again, here we are… and #againagain I don’t really know where to begin or end with this one as again again again there is no beginning or end to the perpetual Pascha that is “The Cure.” I still haven’t figured it out yet, but I enjoy musing in the meantime… #fortherecord #noneofthisisbinding #itsalljustmakebelieve #dontciteme

On the seventh day, Gaga had finished this work of creation, so she put to rest this Famous curse…

The Pretense

So, “The Cure.” I guess, broadly, briefly, it feels like… surrendering into the unknown abyss after a forty-day desert trek, only to find… that the hard-fought rock bottom was but a bridge, all along, before that luminous cloud rocket number nine.

The Past Tense Rewind

So, in this going-on seventh (eighth?) annual progressive cycle in literary association with a one said aforementioned Lady, I’ve learned something (just one something, no need for greed), “This” in all its “Thisness” has always, is always, and will always be happening in increasing measure well into the foreseeable future. While I have yet to identify the source of this odd compulsion to narrate creative works which are, by definition, already complete narratives; I exist with the knowledge that said compulsion will kick-in upon each and every Gaga release –– so why fight it? #hookahsnotbazookas I don’t always have the time, energy, or resources to make proper sense of existing narratives which, again, were published with enough existing sensibility to render any further commentary moot, unnecessary, and quite frankly, distracting; but again, the music marketplace didn’t ask Gallop to poll me on my feelings, and the internet doesn’t recognize expression or human existence unless translated into code and content; so, that said: *gestures toward face* this is me caring, and *sets fingers back on keys* this is me continuing.

#imaginaryreadersayswhat “Oh, wow:” #translation ▼


Now then, where were we supposed to be… right, so, “The Cure” within the historical literary context of Lady Gaga’s existing zeitgeist anthology / pop biography. So, Catholics and Pop acolytes have much in common #shockofallshocks, not the least of which being a fervent allegiance to the magnanimity of ritual, the experiential translation of alchemical mystery; and that fundamentally –– beyond mere Genesis, Nativity and Passion –– we (yes, I am a part and parcel of all both within said “we”) are natural-born Easter People. And “This” in all its “Thisness,” that is The Cure, is nothing more and never anything less than the Paschal Gospel’s Contemporary Record



#gottaremembertoreadthememos #literallytheonlyfeaturedreference

In a nutshell, The Cure’s world release reads like whatever Easter means to a displaced group of Millennial anybodies who happened to follow a certain frequency to the California desert by way of caravan scene or computer screen.

Letters to a Pop Poet: “Million Reasons”

Pop Culture, Soundtrek, TK:LA, Vinyl Mind Flow

Welcome, welcome back… #howdypartner

So it is, and here we are … again, again. Another release, another write to go left… I still can’t help it, it just happens; I still love my life, I still love this record, and yet, I still don’t like pretense, that said —


So, since Joanne “is like, you know, Lady Gaga if you erase all the fame,” which is all well and good and full-stop brilliant, and since we know for sure the album is an entirely autobiographical work from the lady behind the fame, you might ask:

“What’s the point in delving into a work which said lady has already placed meaning and quite fully explained?”

(Likely in not so many syllables, but you’re not me elaborating on what you, an imaginary reader, might or might not say or do, so, alas, I digress, proceeding…)

I like conversations and dialogues #shockofallshocks There’s always an alternate perspective, an element which has not been brought to light, that other manner in which something can be read, regardless of if at the genesis it was “right.”

So, here, I didn’t go into “Million Reasons” with any rhyme or reason to wax or wane poetic, and it would be disgraceful to critique or analyze an autobiographical work as such (I mean, how, can you possibly judge someone else’s expression of their perspective on their own life). I didn’t intend to write about it, it just… happened. I was making breakfast, pouring over coffee, and a verse into the tune, it hit me: Rilke.


What if this was just a letter to a Pop poet… Stef’s response to Gaga or vice versa (it’s not, for the record)… just a dialogue that could mean anything… just a conversation between a fan and her flame… it’s never just about Gaga, it’s about the Gagas in us all… and if this was for that girl in the back of the crowd with the Grigio in one hand, and the baby cradled in the arm of the other… how is this not, within some capacity, about that fameless face aiming to connect in that fameless space with us all?

(Less pretense, more standard illustrative intro #likewealwaysdoatthistime #egregriousamounts #improperlyplacedrhyme #egrigiogirlslife)

The De Jure, The De Facto, The Glory of Britney Spears’ Tribal Gospel

Anthropopogy // Culture, Soundtrek, TK:LA

Second things next: Sort it out, education is the motivation #Literacy #ImaginationPassport #GetToWork
Here's a motion picture, focus and find your chill #letsread

Here’s a motion picture, focus and find your chill #letsread

*And now: our regularly scheduled programming*

So… in the two years and miscellany of months since Britney Jean… many dramatic learning scenarios have unfolded… for the shown world, and both a one Miss Britney Jean Spears, and mutually exclusively, myself #swiperitsnotaboutyou #iknow #itsalwaysbeenaboutdora #yesiknow #everypopstarisdora #igetit #keepitmoving #peoplearetryingtoreadhere #wellnotherehere #noonereadsthis #probablybecausetherestoomanyinsecurehashtags #anyway

Much like Britney Jean, said Spears nor myself have anything to prove in this latest iteration… except the reality that we live our lives as tales to be told, we record said lives to manifest alchemical gold, and beyond any and all else, we eclipse the great with the good, and actively oppose the established fallacy that human lives are nothing more than fails to be sold… which, effectually, is the everything; because Glory finds and founds itself in the amplified actualization of De Facto over De Jure Millennial Pop music culture identity, it breeds: I applaud and advocate for Glory; because I, along with a camaraderie of unbeknownst-to-us-then-undeniable-to-the-world-now Army officials, find and found the self in this relentlessly resilient tribe of born-and-bred Millennial Pop music culture creatives, I proceed.


So, without further ado (“without further ado…” it’s all melodramatic – get what the kids want and have fun with it! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) the de jure, the de facto, the one-off story riffing about the Glory that is this marvelous ninth record album from millennial cult pop tribe leader Britney Spears…

De Jure

Britney Jean Spears (born December 2, 1981) is an American singer, dancer and actress. Born in McComb, Mississippi, and raised in Kentwood, Louisiana.

glory (noun) glo·ry \ˈglȯr-ē\

1. something that is a source of honor, fame, or admiration; a distinguished ornament or an object of pride

2. a state of absolute happiness, gratification, contentment, etc.

3. a ring or spot of light: as

a: aureole

b:  a halo appearing around the shadow of an object

De Facto

Britney Spears exists as the living pop canon of the TRL Generation: period, unequivocally; Glory exists as said Generation’s anthem battle hymn and opus tribal frequency. #OurBattlefieldIsSpectacularPrivatizedPublicity #YourVibeAttractsYourTribe

For the record:

Mood Ring: We Are Mortals

Pop Culture, Popisodics, Soundtrek, TK:LA, TrapperKeeper

WE ARE MORTALS® is an evolutionary gender-free urban streetwear brand.

We call ourselves MORTALS because we are the ones who understand the brevity of human life and the need to live it fully and limitlessly. We also believe that as MORTALS, we’re all equal. That is why we created our brand around this idea of a future in which we wear our personalities, not our gender identities or other stereotypical labels. Coining the phrase The Future Has No Gender, WE ARE MORTALS® seeks to challenge the conventional and outdated his/hers formula of clothing design and retail. In the future, there will be room to exist in a ‘gray area’ in which our identities don’t rely on gender, sexual, or racial classification. Ultimately, we hope that by removing the traditional gender designations from our clothing, we can facilitate a cultural shift in the way we view gender, sexuality, and each other.


WeAreMortals living soundtrack, sonic couture for the post-structural human culture, in founder Anji Becker’s own words…


“(W)orld Town” – M.I.A

She’s an artist that speaks up for causes, represents underprivileged people in the world. she’s fearless, a powerful woman who doesn’t accept traditional gender stereotypes.

Lyrically Speaking: “Tom’s Diner,” Giorgio Moroder + Britney Spears

Anthropopogy // Culture, Deconstruction, re:brand – America, Soundtrek, TK:LA

Good music speaks volumes… rather than impose analysis, step back and expose linguistic artistry… listen, look, and linger in fantastic rhythmic reality: lyrically speaking

“Tom’s Diner”Deja Vu (2015)




I am sitting
In the morning
At the diner
On the corner
I am waiting
At the counter
For the man
To pour the coffee
And he fills it
Only halfway

And before
I even argue
He is looking
Out the window
At somebody
Coming in



Street Brilliance: Tupac Lagerfeld Dali x Alec Monopoly

Anthropopogy // Culture, Media, Pop Culture, re:brand – America, TK:LA

Slates and palettes, vision and vices as brick and mortar of Angeles the spectacular urban palace…

Media makes for a most marvelous canvas…


when the world muses as such…



Words, lines, scribes, eyes, Sunset below the artisan’s guise…



Le Trap Haus Presents: Vinyl Mind Flow, Ep. 2

Anthropopogy // Culture, Deconstruction, Media, Pop Culture, re:brand – America, TK:LA, TrapperKeeper, Vinyl Cut Prose

The soul is a Geppetto.

The soul is a character, crafted at the hands of a Disney – to portray and display navigation. Precise design, guidance, vision, supposed to nurture and cultivate. Educate, inform, to build the context, the mental escape of this world for the inanimate – it has the power; and channel energy and light by way of inspired design, craftsmanship, workmanship, inspiration, execution, perspective, that creative spark

– and yet: it’s quiet, it’s sure. stoic. astute. precise and so articulate, in so few words, not that it doesn’t know them, but rather that it chooses to explore… the endless possibility in the world of language, in all its beautiful forms, and manifestations. it reaches beyond convention, and creates entirely new points of articulation. highlights them… paths, new roads to explore and ways to get from point a to point b and back again…

Britney Tweets 2007, Ep. 3

Anthropopogy // Culture, Media, Pop Culture, Popisodics, re:brand – America, TK:LA, TrapperKeeper, Vinyl Cut Prose

because if ifs and ands were pots and pans there’d be no betta work for tinker’s hands, because pink wigs birthed millennial whiplash, because it’s the rhyme behind seasonal reason, because you’re not B and will never see it her way… because Britney didn’t have Twitter in 2007, because the traphaus was birthed in the wake of Kevin, because Miss Spears will remain the bad bxxch you’ll never know, because they shouldn’t have let her blackout the ‘net #work: nouveau decided to put on a show #luckystarswipgolden


because education was the motivation, because she blogged before it was cool, because she was an independent publisher in the midst of corporate media, because stellar evolution involves apparent collapse, because she may not have spoken the King’s English but still scribed the siren’s hymn, because well-before she dropped the scheiße en route to new Britney’s mission she bathed in capital H.I.M., because we voted her to be nouveau royalty in the midst of gop patriarchy, because she faced the fire for her fans while the Administration placed firearms and debt in their electorate’s hands…

because she wants you people to know she’s not perfect, she’s divine #godspeed

Screen Shot 2014-08-05 at 4.37.39 PM Screen Shot 2014-08-05 at 4.37.54 PM Screen Shot 2014-08-05 at 4.38.19 PM Screen Shot 2014-08-05 at 4.38.41 PM

The Hills are Alive… with the sound of muses

Anthropopogy // Culture, Deconstruction, Soundtrek, TK:LA, TrapperKeeper, Vinyl Mind Flow

I riffed on The Sound of Music tribute at The 87th Annual Academy Awards Ceremony for ten minutes and twenty-eight seconds: this is the verbatim transcription…

So it would seem the hills are alive with the sound of music… the Hollywood Hills to be exact, this night, this beautiful night, Oscar Sunday… and amidst all of the flashing lights, Mother Monster, the pop mistress, the matriarch of music on behalf of a flailing industry – thought to be dead thought to be gone, thought to be sold out – rose to the occasion only to prove that all the charlatans were dead wrong.

Music is that which cements the experience of any moment, that auditory moment where those aural architects, as I said before, are able to manipulate the invisible… to be able to tap into those currents and those frequencies that you cannot see, but that you can feel stronger than any other sensory experience you’ve ever felt before… when you close your eyes, and you can feel your heart beat. When you close your eyes, and you can feel the goosebumps rising; when you can feel that ugly duckling becoming that beautiful swan, rising above it all because it found the rhythm, and it could never fall – it would falter – but never off that cliff never to never be seen again…

In Defense of… Music

Pop Culture, Vinyl Cut Prose

It’s dead, right? That’s the tone. “Music is dead wrong right now.” No. Never. Not, ever. Somewhere in the midst, art lingers, latent but everlasting. Immortality rests in the rhythm. No matter how broke, bullied, abandoned, starved, outcast, paralyzed, apparently descended… you can always muse. The language of the gods from the stars exudes. Those lyrics and harmonies will sustain the seemingly los culture. From the mouths of babes, from the medley of blues, from the birth of tragedy, sagas continue.


twenty-seven with an infinite lineage manifest through song… every note, every melody an immaculate conception with composers i’ve never known. but that is the value, and that is the threat: that in this world made manufacture, in this culture industry, rogue rhythmic pregnancies prevail.