A deceased family member's computer sits quietly in the clutter of our bedroom closet. Its plastic casing holds an unpublished memoir that details taboo sexual experiences, military rebellion, musical enterprise, and the key to winning in show business. The man who's words remain folded
tightly beneath wires and binary code was an exceptionally giving and talented man, and all I know of him are a few short encounters with him and the anecdotes of his close family members. Those little nuggets of acquaintance play with my nerves. I'm shaking and salivating for the chance to unfold those words of both wisdom and controversy. I would chance a moment to sew together the chapters of his manuscript, but I would fear anger and rebellion from those who frown on the saucy existence of a gay church pianist. Read more...
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