Category: memoir

Sexwork & Stripping. On & off stage, under the lights or in the dark; back in the day, until today. For me, it would never as good as the first time.

I sniffed my mother’s armpit. Last March, after the fall that fractured her L1 vertebrae…

Fifteen years ago I was on the phone when he said, “Hold on, I think the boiler just exploded,” and put the phone down. After a few moments, “I gotta go. There’s body parts and plane parts all over. I gotta go.” He worked at the Marriott Hotel opposite the World Trade Center and it was early and the story hadn’t hit the news yet.

Previously published: BUST Magazine Spring/Summer 1996 (as Scarlett Fever) He pushes me inside a yellow…

Previously published: Johns, Marks, Tricks & Chickenhawks (Soft Skull Press, 2013); Best American Erotica, 1995 (Touchstone Book…

Originally published as “Lele” in Hos, Hookers, Callgirls and Rentboys: Professionals Writing on Life, Love,…

The thing about moods is they’re so mercurial, at least mine are.  The other day I was…

I walked through the new Washington Square Park, expecting to be disappointed, or at least…

Daddy was a con man. Not a thief, not a Catch Me if You Can…

How is it so easy to write about my mother, and so hard to write…

I don’t know about little boys, hell, it becomes more and more apparent each day…

I open my eyes to a greasy tin ceiling & the smell of oil and gasoline.I’m…