This weekend, I went to the Lyceum and saw “The Pianist of Willesden Lane.” It’s the kind of play that slowly draws you in, exquisitely conjuring up the elegance and artistry of Vienna on the brink of World War II, as well as the heartache and loss of war. I soon found myself riveted by world-renown pianist Mona Golabek and her one-woman show. Continue reading →
Amidst all the uproar in the news about ex-Baltimore Raven Ray Rice and what he did to his then-fiancé in an elevator, I heard a startling fact: According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, one in three women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime.
That’s one in three, not one in a thousand or even a hundred. It’s one in three.
Consider me one of them. And while I’m confessing to being someone’s punching bag, I might as well admit that I was also the victim of date rape… (Read more…) Continue reading →
I was laying in a bed, a real bed, not the standard-issued cot we had in our cabins. I had just awoken, a miserable, snotty wretch. What I’d give to be anywhere else. Back at school even. Away from all this crap. Yet here I was, still at Camp Prison-Shit. How long had I been out, I did not know.