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Had a really dope breakfast conversation today about writing, music and… well, writing and music, at the Starbucks at Howard with a loud derelict chortling in the background at a book he was reading. It was extremely fucking loud, and we were afraid he was dying because it was a hacking cough that sounded like he was being strangled from the inside. This detail isn’t important to this post at all but I wanted to include it.

What struck me the most about this conversation was that we discussed Pop divas. The concept of Pop divas is something that I’m largely at odds with, since I tend to believe Pop stars are frivolous yet always end up somehow becoming cultural ambassadors. Moreso, the conversation I had was with another gay man of color, and in most of my experience, in real life or online, those discussions usually devolve into heated emotional warfare. I mean, we hit all the usual targets–Whitney, Beyoncé, Mariah, Mary J., and a bit of Madonna and Janet–and never once did it become “OMG OMG OMG SHE’S SUCH A SAINT AND EVERYONE HATES HER BECAUSE OF HER BEAUTY AND SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING ABOUT HER IS SO FLAWLESS AND FIERCE!!” or “HOW DARE YOU SAY _______ IS INCONSISTENT? YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU. I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN. BITCH.”

It was a very pleasant and fun conversation where we allowed each other to be critical and comparative without fear of stepping into landmines. I can’t say that I’m particularly surprised, since the person with whom I had this breakfast discussion engages with me in a way where I never have to worry about that. But within the larger context of my gay brethren, socially, this was a glass of homemade lemonade on a quiet beach in the middle of 80 degree weather (What is… refreshing? </jeopardy>).

So basically I’m marking this day on my calendar and celebrating its anniversary next year. With gifts.