He was constantly mailing stuff, writing stuff, acting in stuff, auditioning for films and TV, on top of taking care that the House of Aging Homosexuals continued to house its eponymous inhabitants, that bills were paid and paperwork done. He had clients and neighbors for whom he did home care, and clients for whom he did cross-dressing housework. I often pictured him flying around someone’s decaying New Orleans Victorian in a negligée, wielding a feather duster.