Today is Pride in Philadelphia. & it's not raining. It's happening at nearby Washington Square West, park. a block away from my house. And I'm in my apartment.
Alone. I'm horribly afraid of people since my assault. I tried to go with my friend Bill, but he's writing, and I remember too well how THAT is. His husband, Kevin, is out of town 'til tonight. Ciaran's in Chicago.
Arguing for my independence with my trust lords has gotten really old, really fast. See, I’m like a poor man’s Brittany Spears: all my money is in a special needs trust, dispensed as need be by my Trustees: Gil Roth and Peter Johnson. Gil, I’ve been friends with since St. John’s. Peter does this for a living, & cuts me a world of always legal and ethical slack. More tomorrow. Nighty-night.
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