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Remember, he's your labubu

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Una oportunidad para conocerme a mí

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This feels nothing like my music

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He could not be evil and still hurt me

So do i stay? Should i go?

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I feel like I’m playing a part with him

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Shorten the bridge between thoughts and actions. Be honest with yourself.

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Romy Schneider and Anthony Perkins

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hand, shell, and leg , paul outerbridge jr, 1938

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Coming back to myself

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You know what I want? Enough friends to need a cardboard tray when getting coffee

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Goodbye Again, 1961

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Non prudes scare me

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On Anthony Perkins:

I first met him in 1967 in my dressing room at Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theatre when I was playing William Shakespare in William Gibson’s play A Cry of Players. I was twenty-nine years old. He was thirty-four and on the make. In the acting company of the play was an eccentric guy who had a small role and lived in a teepee he had set up in the Beaumont’s vast backstage area. From it came the distinct odor of cannabis and in and out of it went a phalanx of young men.

One night there was a knock on my dressing room door after the performance. When I opened it, there stood the lovely Mr. Perkins, hands stuffed in his pants pockets, hair sweetly messy.

“Hi. I’m Tony. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

After the usual backstage chat, I said:

“You know, people keep telling me I’m a young you, but I don’t think we look alike. Do you?”

We both stood in front of my makeup mirror shoulder to shoulder and stared at each other.

“I don’t see it,” he said. “How big is your cock?”

“I didn’t bring it with me tonight,” I joked.

We turned and faced each other in silence. There is a way one man stares at another when a sexual encounter may be in the offing

that is completely unlike the uncomplicated gaze exchanged with no hint of its possibility. Tony’s gaze was profoundly of the former. “I’m going back to visit Tom in his tent. If you feel like it, stop in.”

Tom’s teepee could not hold a candle to the swank New York apartments in which the gay community of the 1960s often gathered. Famous older men in the closet had secret evenings to which all the young meat in New York was invited. The entrance fee meant stripping at the door, donning only a towel, and spending the rest of the evening so attired. An upscale elegant steamless bathhouse at which Tony was reputedly a frequent visitor. He held a unique position, certainly, being both a celebrity and youngish meat.

I always felt in his company that he wanted to be fathered. Even though I was the younger, he related to me like a teenage boy in constant need of approval. His first impulsive question in my dressing room that night in 1967, “How big is your cock?” may have been more than a come-on. In a little boy’s mind, Daddy’s is always bigger.

Skittish, compulsively flirtatious, and often sexually charged, he seemed always to be flinching from an expected whack to the back of his head.

…As the years passed and his beauty faded, he appeared in awful films, a few plays, and ultimately gave in to his signature role of Norman Bates and lived on the sequels. Anger and bitterness then seemed to be the dominant element in his personality.

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I think you’ve got something there Paula. If you’ll go in to do the young master’s bedroom, why not do the young master? Makes the work so much more interesting.

GOODBYE AGAIN (1961)

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Phillip’s drunken hyena giggles • Tony Perkins, Ingrid Bergman, Yves Montand • Goodbye Again (1961)