Hello! Hola! Bonjour! As you probably already know if you are one of the 14.8k people/bots who follow me on Instagram (and let’s face it…if you’re reading this newsletter you probably follow me on Instagram*), you’ll know that I recently returned from yet another luxury cruise, this time through Spain and France. I’ll be getting into all of that next week, which is fitting because we’re a little over a year since I first launched this newsletter with a recap of my trip to Spain.

As the 1900s rolled around, circuses started to explode on the American entertainment scene. Forget radio, TV, or movies - they weren't a thing yet. Instead, it was all about the thrill of insane acrobatics, wild animals, and exciting performances that took over people's imaginations. These spectacles were a major event and an eagerly anticipated break, particularly in remote and rural areas where life could be repetitive and dull. For many people at this time, their knowledge of different cultures or unusual creatures existed primarily within stories told around fireplaces or articles read under candlelight.

One of the techniques I used to write Late Admissions was to set up “interviews” with myself. I would talk about my life with my editor, Mark Sussman, and we would record the conversations. The transcripts became the basis for the book, but we also have over 60 hours of recordings. We’re going to release some of them—curated, edited, and produced by my creative director, Nikita Petrov—and this is the first batch.

In 1974, two years before his adaptation of Stephen King’s novel Carrie would push him into mainstream success, trailblazer of pervy freak cinema Brian De Palma wrote and directed an indulgent, hedonistic rock opera movie musical called Phantom of the Paradise. Though a commercial and critical flop at the time (except, uncannily, in Winnipeg, Manitoba and Paris), the low budget, independently-produced passion project has developed an increasingly avid cult following in the nearly 50 years since it was released.

Harold Angel Giuliani, the father of Rudy, once served 18 months at Sing Sing for robbing a milkman at gunpoint for $128.82. Harold gave a fake name to the police when he was pinched. Rudy has said proudly his dad was the “muscle” for a loan-sharking outfit, where he “broke legs, smashed kneecaps [and] crunched noses” in the 1950s.  Rudy further credits his father as the “finest man” he’s ever known, and “compulsive about being honest.