A Star Is Born

Last night I read from my play, LOOKING FOR MR. AMERICA to about 200 young men and women at the LGBT CENTER here in San Francisco. Kirk Read, the curator of the event that featured sex workers(formerly known as hustlers) and ex-sex workers like me, helped me up the two steps to the stage. It seems that the older I get the better actor I become because I loved the audience and they loved me. Near the end of my dynamic reading—laughing–crying–fiercely angry–my legs began to wobble. When I finished Kirk helped me offstage to thunderous applause. During intermission I met Jerry the Fairy, who was a friend of my idol, Harry Hay. A glorious evening, full of love.

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Last Updated on Tuesday, 22 June 2010 10:16 Written by George Tuesday, 22 June 2010 10:16

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Arthritis

Last Updated on Tuesday, 22 June 2010 10:16 Written by George Tuesday, 22 June 2010 10:16

Yesterday the arthritis was so bad in my hands I could hardly write away on my memoir. It seemed that everything was buggig me at once–my aching back–my gimpy right leg and I had trouble focusing my eyes. I was feeling dreadfully lonely but then I hooked up for coffee with Martin and the loneliness left. When I got home I put the heating pad on my hands and watched Bill Maher on TV. Cornell West, the Princeton professor was on his show. He seems l

Pamela

Last Updated on Tuesday, 22 June 2010 10:16 Written by George Tuesday, 22 June 2010 10:16

I was nervous as I climbed the steep stairs. I had mixed feelings about Pamela. After all, she had palmed off Nancy on Ed and I had been left in the cold—I spent a miserable couple of months hustling Main Street. At first I didn’t recognize the woman who was sitting cross legged on a mattress on the floor. Her blue slip was above her hips and I could see her almost hairless vagina. Next to her was a wooden Celtic harp. But what really shocked me was…..

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Copyright © 2010 by George Birimisa. All Rights Reserved.