New York may be the best city in which to live, but it’s also the hardest. Sometimes, you have to remind yourself why you moved here—like when it’s 15 degrees and you’re walking to work, or when you step onto a subway car during rush hour and you’re slammed up against a smelly stranger, or… Read more »
It was hard to know how much we were supposed to work. We were freelance writers; we had no office and no boss and no dependable means of support. ⁓Claire Dederer, author of Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses Before Harry, the freelance lifestyle was pretty great. Ross and I traveled the world—Australia,… Read more »
Over the past few months, running has become a major theme in my life. No, I’m not running away from my problems (I have dealt with the fact that I am going to die alone head on), and I’m not suffering from a case of the runs (although if you are, I hear Imodium works wonders). I’ve been… Read more »
I took a week off from ‘Almost Carrie’ to enjoy the holidays, but don’t think for a second that I stopped contemplating Sex and the City‘s profound effects on society. In fact, Christmas vacation proved a catalyst for a complicated meditation on one of Sex and the City’s most enduring controversies—the ubiquitous presence of SATC stuff…. Read more »
I decided to start writing Big City Siren after a homeless man peed on me…
Poet, novelist, and gay activist, Perry Brass has published 15 books including the erotic classics Mirage, Angel Lust, and The Substance of God. Born in Savanah, Georgia, Perry has called New York his home since 1966. In 1969, Perry joined the Gay Liberation Front and became an editor of Come Out!, the world’s first gay liberation newspaper. Each month,… Read more »
Last night, walking through Rockefeller Center a memory struck me like a brick. In 1970 the best bang for the buck in New York City was Radio City Music Hall. My sixteenth year was a very good one. After my last class at LaSalle Academy around 2pm, I’d take the # 6 subway at Bleecker… Read more »
My first coffin was metal. It measured six feet long, three feet wide, and three feet deep. It rested on a wood base that lifted its height up by one foot. It sat in near darkness at the rear of the parlor. Everyone paid their respects. Upon close examination, you saw it bled sweat and… Read more »
Last Thursday night, my husband and I went to a party that Esquire Magazine* hosted at a 23.5 million dollar apartment. The apartment, known as the ClockTower Penthouse, is a triplex in DUMBO, Brooklyn, and is the most expensive piece of real estate in the borough. The main floor features four enormous working glass clock… Read more »
There are some plays that, no matter how many different versions I’ve seen over the years, I will continue to seek out simply because the writing is so extraordinary. A Streetcar Named Desire comes to mind. Then there are plays that, although they are very good—masterpieces even—I feel no pressing need to ever see again. … Read more »
