The Principessa's Interview

1. Do you have a lifelong aspiration? What is it? Be very very detailed.

If there is one thing I've dreamed of doing, it has been to write my mother's story. She has always avoided talking about her childhood, the war, coming to this country, except in tantalizing bits of stories. Everything I know has been gleaned from stories told to my sister by my mother's family in Okinawa, or in passing references made by my mother herself. I mean, how many people's mothers have made casual reference over a cup of coffee to how beautiful the P-38's looked flying overhead in formation, or how you knew to take cover when the bombs were falling? (If the sound of the planes and falling bombs was coming from behind you, duck.)

There's that, and then I also secretly wish to be a cabaret star and gay icon, sitting in smoky lounges and singing of lost, unrequited and undiscovered love.

2. Of the things you've done in the last five years, what is the most memorable and rewarding??

Oh gosh. There are three things, and I believe each is a direct result of the others. The first was undertaking the Alaska AIDS Vaccine Ride in 2000. 500 miles in 6 days. The combination of the event itself and the sheer immensity of Alaska surrounding tiny little me and my tiny little bike -- well, they changed my life. When I returned to New York City, I was different. New York was different. And all signs pointed West for me. So the second thing I did was give up everything I knew that was comfortable, safe and secure in New York City -- my job, my friends, my rent-stabilized four-bedroom duplex with a terrace -- and moved to Breckenridge, Colorado, where I knew ONE person. I loved living in the mountains, I made new friends, I got a new job in a different industry, and I bought a home there. I was committed. I mean, it felt like deciding to get married. Two weeks after I closed on my mountain hideaway, crazy people flew planes into buildings and within six months I had decided to return to New York. That's the third momentous thing. I didn't come back with my tail between my legs, either. I sailed across the GWB triumphantly with a huge, joyful smile and tears streaming down my face.

I also decided to teach myself how to play the guitar, started writing again, and started paying attention.


3. If you could orb yourself anywhere with your bicycle right now, and you only had one chance to do it, where would you go, what would you do there, and how long do you think you'd spend there?

The foot of Boreas Pass Road and Highway 9. Since I never got to conquer that 4 mile climb up to 10,500 feet, I would ride every mile until I got to the end of Baldy Road (where I lived), not putting one foot on the pavement until I hit gravel at the top. After spending an hour or so vomiting, I would get back on my bike and FLY back down that twisty, turny road, turn north on Highway 9 and head toward the next mountain to conquer -- the bike path over the Vail Pass. Then I would call the Summit Ambulance Service to take me home.

4. If New York City is "home," what's Colorado?

Home. (who says you have to define only one?)

5. You've spend a lot of time lately thinking about ways to live your life. Do you have a motto yet?

Karma is merciless.
Life is one moment long.
Your nearest exit may be behind you.
And
If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with.

And a bonus question: What is your most treasured object? by this i mean a physical thing.

This is a hard one, because things are just things. If you lose a thing, so what? It seems an awful waste of time.

There's a lovely story about a monk who had a magnificent collection of Buddhist antiquities, who, due to space limitations, had to give away a lot of these things that she treasured. One night, there was a fire at the monestary where she lived, and she lost everything she owned, including her Buddhist art collection. The only things that survived were the ones she had given away.

There are objects that I own that I love, but if I lost them I don't think I would be that upset.

Okay. Maybe my bike. And my guitar. My carnelian ring.