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.

In loving memory

A (wo)man without paint is like food without salt

Geisha Diaries