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6:00 - 6:45 PM

with Cal, at dinner, with Cal at the beach

paris, barcelona, buenos aires, berlin, new york city…


I’m wearing my late Uncle Cal’s leather jacket.

I’m wearing three bracelets of his.

I’m wearing his heart, his memories.


Cal was my gay uncle, who introduced me to the possibilities of living my life outloud.

He wore black, everywhere we went…to dinner, to the opera, to parties, to the beach.

I wear his jacket as a cloak, as a heavy reminder of where I’ve come from, his life taken too soon.

I’m wearing a black swim thong, to show my ass, because I want to. Also, because the first time I ever wore something so small in public, was at West Street Beach in Laguna with Cal. My gay uncle Cal, who allowed and encouraged me to be whoever I wanted, to be free from whomever I needed, I miss you.


this new solo approaches the score through my memory of being with Cal, the never-fading stories we shared being loud and gay together. 

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