NY Mirror

In the Fringe Festival, I hear, your generosity was generally rewarded with too many songs, too many verses, too many subplots, and not enough air conditioning (though, as always, there were gems in the sandbox). I kept my attendance down to one subpar comedy and The Last Days of Cleopatra, a musical about the Liz-and-Dick epic du adultery, which was surprisingly retro and earnest, but had nice touches like Burton telling Liz, "With or without my pants, I love you." And the air conditioning was great.

With or without a "fat cock," I have some titillating tidbits for your tongue-wagging delectation: 21 Tom of Finland works are being installed into the permanent collection of MOMA. I always knew they were art. . . . While clubbing one night, I heard rumors that Genre magazine might buy the indispensable gay bar mag HX and make it more upscale. (There already seem to be some changes of that ilk in the mag, perhaps by way of preparation.) By the way, SEAN KENNEDY just wrote a gorgeously flattering profile of moi for HX. Who needs changes? . . . You may have heard that Big Cup, the legendary Chelsea haven for young gays who eat Rice Krispie treats, use wireless Internet, and fend off old tweak addicts, was scheduled to close this past Sunday due to raised rents. A big shame! But workers there tell me they got the rights to the name and are lobbying to reopen the joint. . . . I sashayed by the still-there Christopher Street dive Boots & Saddle (a/k/a Bras & Girdles) for the first time in ages and was stunned to find a nice awning adorning the place and polished woodwork and glitzy neon inside. Fortunately, the crowd still looked skank. . . . Insiders say MADONNA's horse is anti-Semitic.

In other UK diva news: MARC ALMOND (Soft Cell) is working on some songs with ANTONY AND THE JOHNSONS, who revere him, and he'll also be doing an album of cover versions. . . . Meanwhile, blue-eyed Irish actor CILLIAN MURPHY has gone from playing heels to wearing them. He made your flesh crawl in Batman Begins and your tonsils itch in Red Eye, but wait till you see him as a sympathetic real-life drag queen who consistently sashays past tragedy in NEIL JORDAN's upcoming Breakfast on Pluto. You'll pop your bras and girdles! (And yes, I'm well aware that he sports a fetching red scarf in parts of Red Eye, but this time I'm talking full-on drag, honey. He's quite symmetrical looking.)


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Litter Box
My life on the OCD list

I've always wanted to write a musical about lupus called I Love You But I'm Allergic to Myself. While the world waits breathlessly for that one, other health issues will sing out in In My Life, the very real, imminent Broadway tuner in which a musician with Tourette's syndrome falls in love with a journalist (for the Voice, no less) with OCD. I shit you not! I've even exclusively gotten ahold of some sample dialogue from the show, which I'll generously share with you now.

Musician: "You're beautiful, you . . . motherfuckin' cunt hag slut piece of caca jism." Journalist: "Oh, darling! Hold that thought while I check to see if I locked my car, then go home to reorganize my Playbills, then wash my hands a few more times. I'll bring back the soap to rinse out your mouth with, OK?" Musician: "Yes, my angel snatchface twat dickweed piece of doggie fecal matter. Fuck off, whore!" Journalist: "Oh, honey, I love you too—three, four, five . . . " Kidding: I made all that up. It's satire! But the show is truly a-comin'. Take your meds.


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