Donny Osmond Touched Me

 

Growing up both Mormon and as a performing monkey, I was predisposed, if not pre-destined, to love Donny & Marie.  Now, they were before my time, somewhat, so that when I see clips of footage of the Donny & Marie show it harkens back to a time when my eyeballs were just learning to adjust to light and the like. Thus, why seeing Donny and Marie perform live at the Pantages reduced me to a sense of coming back into my subconscious so deep that I couldn’t tell what to attribute to collective Jungian unconscious and what was just my pre-personal youth.  Yin/Yang; Jung/young.   Right.

Anyway, there was Marie who is so sassy (even without her OG features because she has had her skin knifed and pulled up) wearing a kimono and standing on-top of some lit pyramid with a fog-machine fog all about her as she sings an aria from Madame Butterfly.  I was weeping because it felt like a dream I have had (I can hear myself telling someone about it “… and then there’s this woman singing this aria from Madame Butterfly and it’s Marie Osmond in a kimono… I know, right?) or that I had died and gone to my own personal David Lynchian heaven.

Donny and Marie both hugged and touched hands with so many people in the audience they were like some strange mixture between Amma and a politician. (Marie put on bright red lipstick and would kiss bald men’s heads.  For real).

And when the audience of 50% + septuagenarians reacted with the silence that would let the sounds of crickets be heard not tweeting when Donny asked “you all follow me on twitter, right?” I knew that at last my twitter account had a DESTINY.  (#Donny Osmond touched me!)  But I did lean over a very nice couple and look deep into Donny’s eyes even as they moved very quickly over mine to the throngs of people who needed his touch more than I did… and touched his hand.  And that touch totally touched me back in time, circa age 5 (but in the total opposite of creepy- because there is just nothing creepy about Donny Osmond) and reminded me why my first favorite color was purple.

And thus, with all the irony intended, I begin my quest- to make the perfect purple cocktail called “The Donny Osmond.”  I already know I should use grape juice.  But I really don’t like vodka or gin, so will whiskey go with Grape Juice?  Or is whiskey too much for someone who is just “a little bit” rock and roll?

You will soon find out.

 

 

Totally pressed flesh with me

Totally pressed flesh with me