Look, can I tell you something that is actually, I think, legitimately a secret no one knows? Sure I can! And I will!
Whenever I do something I’m really proud of I play High Flying, Adored from the smash musical spectacular Evita. Here it is:
I realize this is amazingly hubristic, which is why I don’t usually tell people. My event has to be something I’m extraordinarily proud of. It can’t be like “I’m proud that I successfully got my cable service changed.” Oh. Well, it could totally be that, I mean, doing that’s a nightmare, but, you know, generally this Andrew Lloyd Webber composition is a song I play to go along with promotions, or getting pieces published somewhere I admire or . . . those are the only things I use it for, ever. I always figured if I ever have a book published, I would not play it at the party, because, again, super self-congratulatory song, but I would certainly play it with the volume all the way up on the car ride over.
I love it so much I try to dole it out sparingly is what I’m getting at.
Evita is, hands down, my favorite musical. This is not a secret. That’s because it is a well known fact that, no matter how much Sex Pistols and Velvet Underground you program into your iPhone, when it accidentally goes off in public, it’s going to play whatever Andrew Lloyd Webber you have stored in there.
When it’s not accidentally going off, I’ve mentioned to people that I tend to listen to all of Evita right after break-ups because “I draw courage from her incredible true life story.” People think that I’m being droll, so I have to explain that I am not. And then people look at me like I’m a psychopath, because, I guess I know some people who don’t love fascism.
I’ve actually always wondered how much of a fascist Eva Peron was really. Was she the scrappy yet immaculately Dior clad fighter who could not be kept down by anyone, that I’ve come to admire? I do love plucky women. Or was she, you know, Mussolini in a dress? Maybe both!