The Things I've Bought From Strangers In

Besides, If I Wanted To Hear People Speaking Wall-to-wall French, All I Had To Do Was Remove My Headphones And Participate In What Is Known As ‘real Life,’ A Concept As Uninviting As A Shampoo Cocktail.

Watching Him Was Like Opening The Door To A Siniging Telegram; You Know It's Supposed To Be Entertaining, But You Can't Get Beyond The Sad Fact That This Person Actually Thinks He Bringing Some Joy Into Your Life. Somewhere He Had A Mother Who Sifted Through A Shoe Box Of Mimeographed Playbills, Pouring Herself Another Drink And Wondering When Her Son Would Come To His Senses And Swallow Some Drain Cleaner.

The Good Thing About Being Gay, Though, I Always Believed, Is That You Didn't Make Anyone Go To A Wedding. Nobody Wants To Go To A Wedding. Nobody. It Kind Of Bothers Me Now That You Have To Go To Gay Weddings, Too. I Don't Care. It's Still A Wedding. And I Would Give Anybody Double Gifts If They Would Elope.

I Would Be Writing And Trying To Write Like Joan Didion. Or If I Was Reading Raymond Carver. You Know, Strong Stylists. But That's How You Find Your Voice, Is Imitating Other People. So Things Like That Didn't Embarrass Me, Because I Thought, Well, That's How It Goes. That's How Everyone Learns.

Paul Rudnick Is A Champion Of Truth (and Love And Great Wicked Humor) Whom We Ignore At Our Peril.