A friend of mine has called me boring, claiming all I ever post or Tweet about is being in bed, reading. Well, I do spend a lot of time in bed. Reading. But, once upon a time . . . I spent a lot of time in bed (and on the floor, and the back AND front seats of cars, and dorm rooms, and the bathrooms of bars and …) NOT reading. There was a time when I, like Liza, did things other than sport bad haircuts, outfits, and CRAZY WITH A Z; we lived a debauched life.
My first adventures in real debauchery were fueled by connections I made because I arrived at a theatre camp versed not just in Barbra and Liza and Judy – oh my – but also worshipping Patti Smith
and Lou Reed
… and I learned the word androgyny and I escaped the small-town home-town isolated-queer-boy misunderstanding about categories being concrete and immutable and started my pose of good time Charlie who started fucking and falling ridiculously, mythically, Wuthering Heights-like in love with – CUE MUSIC FOR ELEVEN O’CLOCK BALLAD – STRAIGHT BOYS …
… especially the tortured ones prone to addictions (or, just PRONE) to being musicians (good luck helping them kick THAT shit) or shooting heroin or drinking or hiding behind various masks and hates and fears – I did them all, hell, I have always been – as my people say – VERSATILE … anyway, pretty sure Sweet Jane and Gloria were the soundtrack to my first … uhm … let’s leave it at real debauchery. I’m not the least bit ashamed of any of it … except, well, that time I lied, pretending I knew something about football and gave myself away by saying that yes, yes I did know that “gangbang” was another word for “huddle” . . . after which I was taught a lesson quite painful, but delightful, to learn which came in handy for years (and years) … Wish I could remember the names of those football players I was sharing that quad with or find that notebook I kept then . . .
In any event, Dear Friend, (and MORE musical theatre reference sneaking in)I may spend a lot of time in bed – alone – just reading – NOW, but once upon a time I walked on the wild side, high on rebellion dancing barefoot (sorry musical theatre folk, that’s some Reed/Smith referencing there) to the original cast recording of my life; the music of debauchery.