“Yet lost were I not won;
For beauty hath created been
T’ undo, or be undone.”
– from Ulysses and the Siren by Samuel Daniel
Don’t let that lying creep, my first manager that we fired, suggest it was him. Odysseus was my first.
My Odysseus walked up the beach with his friends and a surfboard under his arm, an olive-skinned man with hair curled and dark. Muscular, and famous, I knew him on sight. I was posing with a book I didn’t read for the camera men along the edge of the sand. I was alone, against the rules my parents had set for me. There I was. I believed I could sing, but it was a voice that came from deep inside of me, passed through microphones and soundboards and sound men. I had never heard my voice alone in an empty room. I never sang unless I had to, for joy. It was my job, and I was told to rest my voice outside the studio.