So it was good that he met Jack and moved into a sparkling white Upper East Side penthouse in the sky. Late of a typical Midwestern upbringing, Kilmer-Purcell was new to the city but couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else, no matter how awful his East Village living situation. Actually, the few hundred bucks in an envelope under the bar helped more than the attention did. S/he emceed at club after club, striving to be relentlessly shocking and to create a glittery, glorious, train-wreck persona that forced people to pay attention. Being the fabulous creature named Aqua was actually work, the author reveals. An art director by day (at an unnamed downtown Manhattan advertising firm that any New Yorker with a grain of sense can identify from geographical clues), by night he was a performer in drag with a distinctive specialty: water-filled fake breasts containing live goldfish. Real-life stories from the fringe seem to be the latest trend in memoirs, and Kilmer-Purcell makes a stellar debut in this genre. The true adventures of a drag queen named Aqua: her loves, her trials, her goldfish.
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