Wednesday, April 1, 2020


I've had a crush on Teresa Wright since I was a boy. Having graduated from the high school behind the house I grew up in, only four years before I was born, she was our local movie star. She is one of the best and most popular stars of "Hollywood's Golden Era" and thanks to TCM you can still watch her greatest films and see why.

She is also one of the few movie actors to be nominated for two Oscars in the same year (Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress) and the only actor to be nominated for their roles in the first three movies they made. If you don't know her work, I highly recommend the four best movies she made: THE LITTLE FOXES, MRS. MINIVER, SHADOW OF A DOUBT (one of Hitchcock's best), and my alltime favorite film THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES.

[the photo is from the latter film and shows that even when crying her Irish eyes sparled]

Thursday, March 26, 2020


Joe Brainard was an artist and writer and poet and one of the loves of my life. When I scanned his letters and notes to me for a biographer of his (yet to publish the biography) decades ago, I was stunned to discover he pursued me more than the reverse, though I first met him in person the night I pulled a groupie routine to go home with him after a reading he did in Manhattan around 1972.

That was a period of extensive sexual exploration for me and the most open I'd been since childhood to every sensual experience with others, including a relationship with Joe that was periodic but extended from 1972 until I left NYC in 1982. He passed away in 1994 from the last plague, AIDS, on my birthday, May 25th. We were born in the same year (1942) and were the same height and weight, which always seemed part of our connection to me, though it didn't seem to mean much to him.

On March 11th, he would have been 78, as I will be on the anniversary of his death. And on March 21st, it was the forty-sixth anniversary of the actress and "transgender icon" Candy Darling's death in 1974, someone I assume Joe knew better than I did. I met Candy a few times and probably blurted out that I had a crush on her. Which I did, but was intimidated by her quick retorts. She was only twenty-nine when she passed from lymphoma, and Joe was only fifty-two when he died. I've missed them both all these years, and with the events of this time I thought of them today, remembering it was the recent anniversary of Candy's death and the anniversary of Joe's was coming up and thought of Joe's mini-essay "HISTORY":

"What with history piling up so fast,  almost every day is the anniversary of something awful."

Here's my favorite shot of Candy (part of my screensaver rotation—I don't know the photographer):