I’ve spent many
years obsessing over opposites. Again and again, I’ve tried to belong
and to leave. The pleasure of being accepted while moving on has
thrilled me—and still does. During the last two decades, I’ve crossed
borders not only between countries, cities, and neighborhoods, but also
between corporate and art settings, luxury and practical homelessness,
friends and enemies, men and women, even between bullying and getting
bashed. Do these contradictions make me unique? Hardly. Does writing
about them make me more honest? Yes. And it is this sharing of my
personal experiences that gives me hope for something more prized and
lasting in my life.
After I left Greece to go to grad school in the U.S., I worked for smart
firms and lived in hotels—small, addictive properties. I had liquor and
sex in West Hollywood suites and took hits of poppers in back alleys. I
reached seven digits in my bank account, and got in line for my last
ten bucks as ATMs only dispensed twenties.
