You can reproduce your past, you can rewrite your present, you can dictate your future… beneath the metronomic hum of the running film reel GaGa brings the monster from the hub of the city to the heart and soul of her own fatally fame-laden tale…

If you knight it then you should’ve put a ring on it…

BlinkkIt: #bam Manhattan’s Pop monarch came back after three betrayals to bring Brooklyn’s Finest’s line to fruition… closing out Born This Way with a single that slays the sanctimony of matrimony and raises a glass to the twice-kissed sinners… “Birthdays was the worst days, now we sip champagne when we thirstay;” here’s to all of your future pain being champagne. #cheerstotearsontap

To marry the night means, among other things, to wed your dreams; here we consummate with the subconscious, conceive a reality, and bring fantasy to fruition.

When I look back on my life it’s not that I don’t want to see things exactly as they happened, its just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way; and truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest because I invented it. It’s sort of like my past is an unfinished painting, and as the artist of that painting, I must now fill in all the ugly holes and make it beautiful again.

For instance, those nurses, they’re wearing next season’s Calvin Klein – and so am I; and the shoes: custom Giuseppe Zanotti. I tipped their gauze caps to the side like Parisian berets because I think it’s romantic and I also believe mint will be very big in fashion next spring.

And that girl on the left, she ordered gummy bears and a knife a couple of hours ago -they only gave her the gummy bears; I wish they’d only given me the gummy bears…

This video brings us back to the beginning. Classic GaGa, tailor-made indie-style instant cult classics. So many memes, so many beautiful nuances… so much noir – so much polyamorous monogamy. Forget about The Fame, or its Monster… leave the dial tone for Alejandro… this is the beginning, and yet simultaneously the future. Again, GaGa is her own gauge… constantly creating a time and space void of twain. Enter vintage Bellevue, allude to the Poor Little Rich Morphine Princess – the sullen Sedgwick – all while donning next season Calvin Klein, while wearing inevitably 2012 du jour mint hair net berets, reminiscing and reproducing past lies into future truths…

The phonograph is the heart monitor, fueling the IV, bedside maintaining technicolour lived dreams, drowning monotony… the crazed clinic mates are dazed dancers, thought to be insane only by those who could not hear the music… the sinner’s birth comes from the sainted mother… and this is just the first three minutes… nothing to your name means nothing to lose, and all that’s to gain is The Fame…

The vignette, the interspersed dialogue underscored by classically crafted soundtracking, like Miles Davis of the modern video, making the most of the negative space… golden silence on the quicksilver screen… more than a video, this continues to be a challenge to modern Pop – you. will. never. be. low. brow.

Naturally, there’s the heartbreaks and dance breaks… #butimanartist … this video… is why… L.A. Reid… nor Def Jam will find their way off the island of misfit boys any time soon… Hell hath no fury like a dropped woman’s scorn: Honey Nut Cheerios can vouch for that.

Her hair, her crown, her coif is her conscious… back to black, on to true blue, and eventually golden locks of bombshelled blonde… everything is so everything in this video – as always with signature GaGa… it seems as if she lost herself somewhere, not dead and gone lost… but distanced from that which created this… she was on the edge of glory with you and I… but, it wasn’t real… it was just practice… and now… now we have the premiere…

You walk into Fame a nobody… until Debbie Allen tells you you’re a somebody #ohwait #wrongmovie #butnotreally Ballerinas on balconies stonefacing and hyperextending legs – and egos #becauseminesbiggerthanyours – nothing but bedazzlers and Rivington Rebelled patches to keep you going…

then, you channel Aunt Viv in the face of young, fresh, nouveau, put in work and put on a show #upandout… here, conceptually we have GaGa’s backup dancers #irl as her peers and assumed superiors – see what she did there. Slowly but surely, with the help of love and art, she – forever the Aronofskian Black Swan – ascends above the rest, from the ground up, because real girls get down on the floor… #gottagetuptogetdown

The heart, the soul, the running theme and meme of GaGa was, is, and forever will be: “I am a lie and everyday I kill to make it true.” From The Fame as a starting point, to the death and rebirth of said Monster and Mistress, there is no hyperbole with GaGa – only materialized mythology…

We are nothing without our image, without our projection, without the spiritual hologram of who we perceive ourselves to be, or rather to become, in the future.

 

The final fifteen are the first fifteen: cut after cut after cut leaving nothing but stars’ scars… one second she’s hauling a piano down the stairs like 80s Manhattan Madonna… the next she’s got her nose to the porcelain like Paris, Lindsay, Britney, Mary Kate, and Whitney, in the finest couture on the cold tiled floor – because Pop stars don’t eat… then, she’s making her way under the bridge, raising hell in the streets with a buncha bad kids… finally beneath the brim of all black everything, mourning the death of futility, she rests on leather in the wake of self-fulfilled prophecy… oh, how merry the night.

Watch This Space: At the end of the day… destiny lies in the palm of your hand…