The Republic of T.

Black. Gay. Father. Vegetarian. Buddhist. Liberal.

Star-F*cked

This is interesting. Living in D.C. I’ve had minor brushes with celebrity — crossing the street and passing by this guy, sitting in Starbucks when this guy walks in, going to a party and meeting this guy, exchanging nods in a hotel lobby with this woman, passing by this guy in yet another hotel lobby, sharing a subway car with this guy — and yet I’ve always kept my distance. I’d never assume any kind of familiarity. After all, I may know they names and faces, but I don’t know them. I don’t even know who they are, really.

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