This shot by the illustrious Tina Paul was taken at a birthday party for me at the Times Square club kid haven Club USA in 1993.
My celebrity guest host was sitcom star and future political candidate Gary Coleman, whose little eyes popped all night at all the drag queens, celebrities, paparazzi, and, especially, birthday cake.
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Yes, I'm planning to go to the sprawling bookstore in the Lincoln Center area to peruse the shelves for discount recipe books and sexual board games. And while I'm there, I might as well take part in the "Fresh Fruit Festival" event--you heard me--in which different LGBT writers will read from their own work and the work of those who inspired them. In my case, that would involve reading TWO of my own works, but just to be generous, I'll throw in one by late wit Quentin Crisp (though naturally it's an essay he wrote about me). Should I do the accent? Wear a flloppy hat and an ascot? Or just stay home?
In any case, here's the info:
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Quentin Crisp was the frilly British poufter who ceaselessly spouted aphorisms, his wit hiding the fact that he had come of age through oppression and abuse in puritanical England. In the '70s, he came to New York to do a live show and stayed, showering us with his wisdoms, hats, and weird viewpoints.
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