Don’t Be Weird, It’s Platonic
I’m reading on Sunday at the Sunday Night Sex Show, a monthly nonfiction reading series focused on, duh, sex. Which is of course one of the great topics of literature, the others being death, bureaucracy, adventure, pirates, magical creatures, small objects that you do not expect to explode, and organic gardening. There may be others. Anyhow, I tried to get special dispensation from Robyn Pennacchia, one of the SNSS hosts, to read fiction, but it was a no-go. So I’m going to be reading, for the first and maybe only time, a work of nonfiction. Mostly nonfiction. Pretty much entirely nonfiction, more-or-less. I just finished writing the piece, like, yesterday. The working title is “James Tadd Adcox Once Had Sex with Death, Bureaucracy, Adventure, Pirates, et al, but It Didn’t Go So Well, and Now When They Ask Him about Another Go-Round, He Says He Has a Headache.” Take that, Great Literature.
Oh, also the proceeds from this Sunday’s reading go to Doctors without Borders.
