What with increasing urgency in the Corona virus calamity, it has become clear to me that I’m going to have to change my mode of operation in writing my memoirs. Before, I always waited until a volume was complete before publishing (posting) it on my website—in order to have the luxury of skipping back to earlier sections to add, delete, or tweak the material.
Now that I really can’t predict hanging around on this planet long enough to finish the current (or any future) volumes, I’m going to post chapters serially as they’re completed, adding them to the Table of Contents for individual access. Too bad for second-thought revisions, but that’s how this wretched Covid cookie is crumbling.
Recently writing on Chapter 6 of the current volume, I’ve only just now found the title for this memoir. It’s the registered name for a spectacular variety of iris I used to sell at the Farmers Market a long time back when I was the famous Iris Man:
As I told a dear friend, these two words are the most cogent description I can imagine of who and what I was in the 1970s in Washington DC. My third real memoir (actually the sixth volume in the story of my unique life), GAY GEISHA covers 1972-80, a time of glorious gay liberation, when I lived and graciously entertained gentlemen in a grand Victorian mansion at historic Logan Circle.
GAY GEISHA provides the dramatic and often lurid details behind that old summary of my fifth persona which I prophetically entitled “Courtesan.” With this posting, I’ll provide now the first five chapters covering my arrival in DC, finding a job and places to live, encounters with old and new paramours, moving into the mansion, our historic neighborhood, sudden social whirl, and a remarkable affair with a friendly neighbor. Shortly, I’ll add the next chapter and forge on from there.
To start reading, just click on GAY GEISHA.