Architecture

Gang Banged by Sound

Gang Banged by Sound

Sound. As I type to the hum of traffic, the cross-hatch of MTM's pen, the pulse of keys, I sob and wish sound weren't a thing. I know people who are virtually deaf. I don't wish for that fate or mean to diminish their disability. But I am waterboarded by the sound of my own voice. People want to hear me read my memoir. Or they *think* they do. They don't know a theater critic once eviscerated my speaking voice in a review. "Etched in acid," he crowed.

Mommy, You Hurted My Penis!

It happens. When a boy is three.

I’m A Faded Musical Star

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I starred in a play. A musical called "South Pacific." Perhaps you've tried to Wash That Man Right Out Of Your Hair while having Some Enchanted Evening falling In Love With a Wonderful Guy on Bali H'ai? No?