Ricky Whitcomb
Bio
Ricky Whitcomb is a writer based in Astoria, NY. His play 'What's On Your Mind?' debuted at the Kraine Theater in New York City in January, 2017 with subsequent performances at the Manhattan Repertory Theater and the Aurora Gallery.
Stories (3/0)
“Don’t say the quiet part out loud”
My heart breaks for the children and adolescents in Florida right now. Today the state of Florida walked backwards through history and put at risk the lives of their own children. They have set in motion a catastrophic series of events that the repercussions of will be seen for decades and for some a lifetime. Growing up in a Catholic school I always knew I was a little different, something about Zack Morris was just more appealing than Kelly Kapowski, and while I knew what these feelings meant I figured at the time that this was just a test from God. We were taught to expect those tests, to overcome them, to prove our faith. No, there was no way I was gay, I was just another follower in a long list of followers who had persevered before me.
By Ricky Whitcomb2 years ago in Pride
Sincerely, Thank You
Dear Donald, Sincerely, thank you for these past four years. Thank you for your attacks on the LGBTQ community. Thank you for your blatant racism. Thank you for your blatant classism. Thank you for radicalizing my own mother to the point that I now no longer recognize her when we speak. Thank you for exposing almost half of this country for the xenophobic homosexual racist garbage fire that it is.
By Ricky Whitcomb3 years ago in The Swamp
- Top Story - September 2017
What Happens When the Opioid Epidemic Hits Home... LiterallyTop Story - September 2017
He was only 32 years old. It was a Sunday morning. I was working my second job, bartending at a local spot. If I hadn’t been working I’d have probably been there drinking regardless, enjoying a casual Sunday brunch with my friends. It was a slow day, most of the regulars probably out in the Hamptons or taking advantage of the perfect beach weather. I felt the buzz of my phone in my pocket, the all too familiar sensation. Just a couple short bursts, only a text message. I saw one of my roommate’s names pop up, Annie. A short, but athletic dancer in her late twenties. We had spent the last several days trying to solve a peculiar case of an odor that had infiltrated our cozy four-bedroom apartment. Our third roommate was in Spain with his boyfriend, and our fourth in Long Island with his family for the holiday weekend. Therefore it was up to us to discover the source of the invasive smell.
By Ricky Whitcomb7 years ago in Psyche
