What Up, Holmes?

So I actually had a phone conversation with "Papa" yesterday afternoon. Yes, that Papa. The dashing German gentleman that I've been corresponding with for over a year via email, and whose cinéma vérité I both rent and purchase on a regular basis for his highly dexterous, immensely talented presence alone (and ooohh whatta talent). Other than myself being an utter basket case and my voice as a result of my cold sounding not unlike Lauren Bacall after swallowing Quentin Crisp we had a very nice conversation together, and Mr. Holmes proved to be just as delightfully charming, funny, courteous, and perverted as I had always pictured him to be on and off camera. We talked a bit about his career, his family, his philosophy on sexuality and body image, and uh, how talking to me over the phone was making him horny. Heh, incorrigible libertine to the end. And you know, as long as I've been in the business of music and any number of the various arts, there are people whose work you admire so much that when you finally meet them you just hope that they are as cool and swell and gracious and wonderful as their creations inspire, no matter where that inspiration comes from or in whatever physical form it takes. Thank you again, Mr. Holmes, for your kindness and indulgence with me, and for always being such a pleasure to correspond with. And um... I'll try and get some more cheesecake pictures for you as soon as I'm able. Heavy on the cheese, that is. ;-)