The Littlest Thing Can Have The Strongest

Life Is Too Short For A Half-rack.

The Littlest Thing Can Have The Strongest Connection When You're Grieving. Your Proustian, Poetic Nerve Is Turned Up To Ten.

As A Son Of A Man Who Pretended To Be One Thing For 33 Years Of My Life And Then Was Another Thing, The Questions Of 'what Is Real' And 'what Is Not Real' Are Very Blurrily Vivid To Me.

To Me It's Like, Every Time I'm A Director, Like Today, You're The Captain Of The Ship, So You Better Dress Like It. You're The Host Of The Party.

Ok, So My Parents Were Married In 1955 And My Mom Knew My Dad Was Gay And My Dad Knew He Was Gay And So I Was, Like, 'why In The Heck Did You Get Married?' Like, What Was Going On? What Was That Time? It's Like This Crazy Paradox That My Whole Life Is Based On, Or My Family's Based On. So I Spent A Lot Of Time Trying To Understand '55.