This is an open-ended blog ranging from news about my latest gigs and publications
to ruminations about politics, world affairs, culture and whatever piques my interest—or ire.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013


My old buddy David Paquette, inspired by my previous post about the shirtless tourist at Versailles, reports that he saw "an Aussie in speedos" walking around Copenhagen yesterday. Our esteemed musical colleague, violinist George Washingmachine, who happens to be an Aussi, informs us that these skimpy men's swimming trunks are called "budgie smugglers" where he comes from. This prompts me to share with you all a passage from my forthcoming novel that deals with this unfortunate item of male apparel. Herewith a sample:

"Walter wore one of those miniscule male bikinis that barely covered his genitalia, a style that was considered fashionable by European men but would probably lead to an arrest on any public beach in Connecticut. Men who wore such things apparently considered them sexy, Céleste thought, but they didn’t seem to realize that the molded outline of their floppy scrota was rather repulsive. Especially when, as was the case with Walter, their bulging bellies hung down like watermelons over the tight waistbands and made them look like pregnant women."
If you want to read the rest of the story, you'll have to buy the book when it comes out. 

1 comment:

  1. Wow! You're writing a novel! I will really look forward to reading it. I loved your memoir, the title of which escapes me at the moment, but you wrote about how you played with "the mens" at Preservation Hall. - Karen