Geisha Diaries

Let’s clear this up immediately: I am not, nor have I ever been, a Geisha. I don’t pour tea in elaborate silk robes, nor do I master the art of conversation while playing a shamisen. The confusion arose because people, in their infinite wisdom, began referring to me as “Gay ‘sya” — which, depending on who’s slurring after five shots of Red Horse, either means I possess a certain flamboyant charm or that my existence raises questions your conservative uncle isn’t ready to answer. I’ve stopped correcting them. It’s funnier this way.

Twiglig, in theaters near you

Your “Genius Tax” Isn’t a Luxury. It’s the Price of Your Soul.

Geisha Diaries