I searched my memory and recalled I had written Fred a coming-out letter in the early seventies. Periodically I got annoyed, testy, mad at the world, and would write bombastic letters to people I wasn't particularly close to, detailing quite explicitly my homosexual identity, not caring whether they would accept or reject me. I couldn't recall what set me off to write Fred. I might have failed a physics exam. Maybe someone called me a faggot on the street. It could have been Watergate.
David B. FeinbergHow can there possibly be a God, with leukemia and AIDS?
David B. FeinbergThere's a part of me that knows that I'll never die. There's a part of me that knows better.
David B. FeinbergHas anyone ever in recorded history kept a box of Pepperidge Farm cookies for longer than three days?
David B. FeinbergPage 1 of 1.
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