I’m not really into guys, but there’s something about actor, sweater-model, comedian, musician, and vocal-looper Reggie Watts that warms my cockles. It’s not a romantic thing—the moist-eyed mirthfulness he arouses springs more from a sense of being witness to a plushie messiah.
Life and time have trained me to stop wanting, to stop expecting, others to share my inclinations, but back when I was more of an evangelist of all that I was into I would as good as compel friends and loved ones to open themselves like morning flowers to a wobbly old YouTube of Watts in the Bowery singing Appalachian music.
Singing both is and isn’t the
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