Illustration by Natalie Vineberg,
Published 14:36, Apr. 5, 2021
In the before times, I rarely went two weeks without a trip to a karaoke bar. My last big night out was last January, halfway around the world, at a Berlin queer bar called Monster Ronson’s Ichiban Karaoke. The host holding court that night was an impossibly hot soft butch with a voice like warm caramel. Soon after the bar opened, she sang “Georgia On My Mind” to set the mood while I stood in the front row, absolutely transfixed. Around 1 a.m., after I’d spent a few hours waiting and anxiously sipping a pilsner, she finally called me onstage. By then, the pit was full of writhing, dancing, shouting, breathing bodies.