Browsing: Here’s My Story

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Virginia Beach in the 1960’s was a genuinely exotic, if earthbound, destination long before exploding into the garish paved-over Virginia Beach of today. Even with incursions of asphalt and neon it resembled such pleasant gray-shingled venues as Cape Cod or the Hamptons.

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We struggled emotionally after my father’s sudden death and we were destitute financially. A few years later my mother became sexually active with other men.
What I didn’t realize or appreciate at the time was that my struggles at home, and especially around mum’s sexual adventures, were heightened by the confused feelings I had towards men.

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Paul wanted to see crazy layering, pants under skirts, t-shirts over button downs, suit jackets with cargo pants. “Mix it up, mix it up,” Paul would say. He was like an annoying bald parrot.

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At that moment, looking into his sad, ancient eyes filled with vintage mascara, I realized that Quentin Crisp must be the loneliest man I had ever met. His deep melancholy was only exceeded by the abject bitterness he had learned to temper with acerbic wit and self-depreciating humor.

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A cable had come from Washington on October 20, 1995—four months after I had filed for early retirement—informing the Consulate that my application had been approved. I was told that from that moment on I was no longer permitted in the Consulate building, that I should pack up all my personal belongings and leave the building as quickly as possible.

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A SHAFT of light entered through the high school doors. I immediately turned to it, totally enthralled by its brightness. I had never felt those feelings before. Who…More

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I was involved in a sexual relationship with another seminarian. For two years we spent every night and day together. I am not presenting this as an indicator of future abuse but as an example of the environment in the seminaries of this period.

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The thought of swimming naked had never occurred to me. I had never swum naked. I was scared but didn’t complain. Jay and I undressed as Tim complained to his father, who relented, “OK, you can wear your jock strap.

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A few weeks ago I visited the exhibition The Unflinching Eye at Mamdouha Bobst Gallery at NYU and a massive collection of work by David Wojnarowicz. The exhibit contained paintings,…More

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The last year of my military life, I was stationed at Fort Hancock in New Jersey. The base was situated on a peninsula jetting out northward from the surrounding highlands…More

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