I used to steal setlists. One musician’s trash is another geeky fangirl’s coveted item. It’s not as if these were pieces of paper passed through the hands of Springsteen or Bono to the lowly sweat-soaked roadie to me. And let us pause for a moment over the absurdity of Bruce Springsteen bent over a sheet… Read More Letter’n


That was the spring the master escape artist came to Boston. Everyone knew about Houdini—the man who slipped through chains as if they were ribbons, the man who spirited his way out of locked coffins, the man who burst from straightjackets the way other people glide through rooms. In April of 1908 Houdini was booked… Read More Unchained

Not So Tiny Dancer

My friend Kerry and I were inarguably the biggest in the dance class. I’m not talking about a touch of extra thigh jiggle or actual hips. I mean that we were Brontosauruses in a group of lithe, beautiful, graceful gazelles; we were the lumbering harpies in a flock of stick-legged birds all symmetrical limbs and… Read More Not So Tiny Dancer