If songs are truly written to memorialize events in our lives, I can only wonder what a tangle might have been? Looking back now I can only wonder how I ever managed to make it to this age.
Id's worked for the government for 32 some odd years. I had to scrape and threaten, scream, and sleep my way to the top.
That sort of thing wasn't anything new in government. Not ever my being gay or a male escort had much to do with my rise in government service but did make me available to more daring things than and straight boy might had attempted.
So are there tunnels under the White House, yes...are they still used today, yes...and are there really secret hallways and doors in the White House? Again Yes.
Here the music of my life might begin, for me the best might have been "angels gathering".
And here, on August 30th, 1957, I am born. I had read the same sort of opening to another book and thought the statement profound. I know one day I'd use it but not in a simple diary as mine ten years after the fact.
Anyway, August 30, 1967, found me in France. My father an American Naval officer, my mother a British Social lite, lived in nice sort of house in Paris. I say sort of place, because it wasn't like any American home