Should I have mentioned she’s also dressed like a leather Nazi cat-prostitute? I just assumed it was implied.
Lady GaGa has admitted to using cocaine to fuel her creativity which is pretty much all you need to know going into this open letter for the latest issue of V Magazine titled, “I DON’T SPEAK GERMAN BUT I CAN IF YOU LIKE.” (On that note, if you’re a theater major, now would be a good time to stop reading and make me my latte. Non-fat!)
Art is a lie. And every day I kill to make it true. It is my destiny to exist halfway between reality and fantasy at all times. They call me “theatrical,” but I posit profusely that I am theatre, and that theatre is me. I am a show with no intermission. It is this thing that summons me from the depths of reality and reminds me that the power of transformation is endless. That I (we) possess something magical and transformative inside — a uniqueness and specialness waiting to be exiled from the depths of our identity. I have said before that I am a master of escapism, which many attribute to my wigs, performances, and my natural inclination to be grand, but perhaps that is also a lie. Maybe I am not escaping. Maybe I am just being. Being myself.
The arrival at this revelation revises my previous escapist philosophies, as my entire being, thus far, as wholly artist and wholly human, has been propelled by the idea that I must effortlessly vacillate between two worlds: out of the real and into the surreal. Out of the ordinary, into the extraordinary.
“I DON’T SPEAK GERMAN BUT I CAN IF YOU LIKE.”
And my brain just melted. Except not before replaying my entire life and also reminding me that I’ve read GaGa’s speech somewhere before. Almost word-for-word even:
Look what I’m dealing with, man. I’m dealing with fools and trolls. I’m dealing with soft targets, and it’s just strafing runs in my underwear before my first cup of coffee. … They lay down with their ugly wives and their ugly children and just look at their loser lives and then they look at me and say, ‘I can’t process it.’ Well, no, and you never will! Stop trying! Just sit back and enjoy the show.
The only thing I’m addicted to is winning. This bootleg cult, arrogantly referred to as Alcoholics Anonymous, reports a 5 percent success rate. My success rate is 100 percent. I cured it with my brain, with my mind. I cured it, I’m done … I’m gonna hang out with these two smoking hotties and fly privately around the world.
I got magic and I got poetry in my fingertips, most of the time, and this includes naps. I’m an F-18, bro, and I will destroy you in the air and I WILL DEPLOY MY ORDINANCE INTO THE GROUND.
Christ. Is there anything she won’t steal? Do something original, junkie!
Photos: Splash News