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I pictured myself walking to work while rainbows beamed out of me like rays to the sun. People would stop in their tracks and ask themselves who that fabulous vision walking down the street was. Word of my amazing shoes would travel wide and far across th
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When Elvis died, I felt so empty that I headed straight for Jimmy Choo's, but quietly, with the half-veil of my pillbox hat draped low over my face. I didn't want to draw attention to my vintage Dior mourning outfit, since I normally wear pants, even here. The voices…
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I was desperate for a social life but I couldn’t go out because I was too embarrassed to smile.
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... and photos of friends from former lives: the Wolfman; Drac; the Mummy; my ungrateful Son; even my gold-digging, coat-tailer ex-wife.
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...I told Uncle Lou I thought it (trans-gendering) looked like a thoughtful way of occupying the world. It was a personal triumph, for some individuals, over the destructive affects of denial. Besides, it hurt no one, and it didn’t destroy property. I alw
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Born, he stood up. He wore nothing as often as possible
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The closet was an overflowing cornucopia of clashing patterns, cheesy fabrics and tragic accessories. There was a dizzying array of skin tight body shirts with long pointy collars, Nehru jackets, striped bell bottoms, flairs, plaid sansabelt slacks, bolo
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20110
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I was explaining whatwe did that day howshe played dress up withlingerie, lipstick, laceI took pictures andwe pretended we wereglamorous. I said"it was a bodega shoot."Later I thoughtI think I meant boudoir.
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I don't know when it was I first stumbled across your blog. I know I definitely must've followed the link on your twitter profile, but how I found you in the first place, I have no idea. But fate works in mysterious ways, I suppose. I remember I then visited your blog every…
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I. Shopping List VodkaFancy Feast for Megan. …
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They entered the house stealthily, gliding over deep pile shag carpet, carefully stepping around a bean bag chair. A silver disco ball projected slivers of light on the popcorn textured ceiling. A lava lamp cast an unearthly pink glow. Barry Manilow's voice oozed from an…
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Every morning when she arrived at work, Jackie filled her bright red cup with coffee, sat down at her desk and riffled through Women's Wear Daily to see if there were any candid photos taken of her walking down Fifth Avenue where…
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Her fever spreads through lines of a plaid mini, over burnt milk, darkened to yellow. Fingers explore fabric folds up and into the lost dimensions of logic.
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