In the sun-drenched coastal haze of Daytona Beach, Florida — where the Atlantic whispers ancient secrets to the shore and the night sky pulses with electric possibility — a singular force of raw creative energy was born. His name is Jimmy Chilla. A man who does not merely exist in the modern world but gently reshapes it with every throbbing bass drop, every stroke of his...
I wrote a musical. It's called Push Me, Pull Me. It has twelve songs. I wrote every word and every note.
It's done. Finished. Ready.
What it's not ready for is easy answers.
The musical asks one question: Is Jimmy Chilla a deceiver, or is he perfecting himself? I don't answer it. I can't. I wrote the whole thing, and I still don't know. That's the point.
The audience decides. Every...
This essay is not about you. It is not about what anyone should do, like, or become. It concerns one man only — my life, my choices, my body, my spirit, my beliefs, and my definitions.
Free will stands above almost everything else. Born with certain raw materials — a male body, heterosexual orientation, ancestry tracing east of Spain — the story did not end at birth. Every...
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