I'll never get my marriage back with the way Smallville episodes are going this season. OK, we all know I'm a life long comic book fan and that Smallville is an incredible telling of the Superman mythos, but! And I mean BUT! Do they have to have his shirt off every single fucking episode???



Look at this shot. A gay teenage boy's wet dream. And my ex-wife's apparently.

My blog can be so personal I sometimes forget that anyone will even read it. Days, sometimes hours, after I post a blog I get phone calls, emails, and IMs asking if I'm doing alright. I'm fine everyone. Even if it doesn't appear so when I write. For me writing holds a particular honesty that the spoken word can't. There is something magical and trapping about the digital articulation of a blog. I tell my blog things that I don't tell my best friends. My soul becomes bared as my blog becomes my mouthpiece. So, anyway. Back to the Alessandro Show.

I went to Lenox Hill summer camp when I was a child. For four consecutive summers (grades 4-6) I was sent away for 3 weeks at a time to Litchfield, Connecticut where Camp Lenox Hill convened. Lenox Hill was quite the experience. Most of the camp's counselors were 18-21 year olds from the barrios of Manhattan. Here is my exchange with the first camp counselor who sat me down as we waited for the bus to take us to Connecticut. Keep in mind that I am 9 years old.

Counselor: What's your name?

Me: Sandro

Counselor: My name is Carlos. Fuck to the east, fuck to the west, fuck with me and your fucking with the best.


So with that tone set camp Lenox Hill had officially begun for me. Now the camp was this strange mixture of street kids, slightly rich kids, and the bohemian kids from Tribeca/Soho/Greenwhich Village. It was incredibly, what they call these days, multi cultural. We learned many songs that were Lenox Hill staples. My favorite being a cadence we would sing on marches or even in the cafeteria during dinner.

My left! My left! My left, right, left!
My back is achin'
My belt's too tight
My booty is shakin' from left to right
Abba Dabba
Soda Craka
Evolution
Revolution
Eat the back of my butt! Uh!
Eat the back of my butt! Uh!
Eat the back of my! Eat the back of my! Eat the back of my butt! Uh!

Very fun song to sing by the way. All you had to do to start it was utter the first sentence out loud and the entire group or cafeteria would join in. My last year there the PC police must have paid a visit because they banned the song during eating ours.

Other favorites included substituted verses for the lyrics to the song Rockin' Robin. These weren't sung at the dinner table but were sung outside waiting to get into the cafeteria.


Rockin' Robin, tweet tweet tweet
Old king kong, old king kong
Old king kong had a rubber ding dong

Rockin' Robin, tweet tweet tweet
Grand ma, Grand Ma sick in bed
Called the doctor and the doctor said
Grand ma Grand Ma you ain't sick
All you need is Grand Pa's dick

Rockin' Robin, tweet tweet tweet
Mama's in the kitchen cookin rice
Papa in the living room shootin dice
Brother's in jail. Going to hell.
Sister's on the corner sayin Pussy for Sale.

Rockin' Robin was usually done with those intricate clapping games that girls are want to make up.

We also had a version of Mocking Bird that we called Hanbone. This wasn't sung at the calm pace of the lullaby. It had the cadence of a step show song.

Hanbone Hanbone have you heard?
Papa's gonna buy me a mocking bird
If the mocking bird don't sing
Papa's gonna buy me a diamond ring
If that diamond ring don't shine
Papa's gonna buy me a bottle of wine
If that bottle of wine turns old
Papa's gonna buy me a nanny goat
If that nanny goat hits me
Papa's gonna beat my B-U-T
If my B-U-T turn sore
Papa's gonna take me to the store
If that store man tells a lie
Papa's gonna punch him in the eye
If that eye turns black and blue
Papa's gonna punch him in the other one too
Hanbone walk!
Hanbone talk!
Hanbone eatin' with a shovel and a fork!
Hanbone!

In stark contrast we also had just as many pre-approved Judeo-Christian songs that we also sang for grace or for the hell of it. I'll save those for my next posting about Lenox Hill Camp.

There are few things like getting your heart handed to you on multiple occasions in a six month period to wake you up to the fact that maybe involvement isn't for you. I posted the goddess Kali below to watch out over my blog during my absence. True to her role she has cleared a path in order for me to write again. Unfortunately with Kali, she'll give you what you want regardless of the circumstances it takes to get there. At this point in my life I've realized that I need divine intervention. Sometimes having things taken away from you is the surest path to enlightenment. I got my heart broken so bad last night they are considering me for the next Dali Lama.

Really. I think I'm done here for awhile.