\u201cThe rabbi, my lover, is back from Warsaw, so my concentration and self-esteem are destroyed. I wrote mythological poems in ninth grade, and the myth my lover resembles is Orpheus\u2014not that I revere Orpheus, I think Orpheus was a failure and a turncoat, I prefer Abraham for being a semi-literalist about God\u2019s commands. The real heartthrob is Isaac, who, if he were alive now and living in Hoboken or in this tiny town near Hoboken, a town I am devastated to admit is my permanent address, would wear studious gold-framed glasses and would have an unfashionable halo of disordered and frizzy curls; he would play the oboe and be constantly licking and biting and polishing his reeds; and he would treat me disrespectfully.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By Wayne Koestenbaum<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7263,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[737,100,736],"class_list":["post-7262","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book","tag-fiction","tag-lgbtqia","tag-wayne-koestenbaum"],"yoast_head":"\n