I never thought a drag queen and myself would have much more in common than breathing air and living on the same planet.

Reading "I Am Not Myself These Days: A Memoir" changed all that.

The book is a memoir by Josh Kilmer-Purcell, an MSU alumnus who pulled double duty as a drag queen and advertising director in New York City, averaging about two hours of sleep a night.

Kilmer-Purcell writes of his relationship with Jack, a male escort and crack addict, which at times seemed completely alien to me, but at other times, easy to relate to.

That's what makes this story so powerful — underneath the glitter and leather corsets is a universal story about love and self and the one unforgettable relationship that changes you.

I finished the book in about three days — it's hard to put down, and the dialogue and description move you through it quickly. I've always favored dialogue over description in reading, but I really enjoyed the descriptive portions of this book.

His description of the process of going from Josh to Aqua, his now-retired drag persona, was one of the most interesting parts of the book. Not only does he physically transform himself, but there's also a moment when his entire personality changes. He becomes Aqua, the flamboyant and promiscuous drag queen, to meet the expectations of the crowd at whatever club he's attending.

Now is that really so strange? How many times have you taken up a different persona for an occasion?

Readers might at first see the world Kilmer-Purcell occupies as strange, what with its coke-snorting queens and an S&M escort's clients lying naked on the floor. But once you look past that, it's easy to identify with Kilmer-Purcell. He always tries to be the person everyone around him expects him to be. He scans his memories of TV shows to find appropriate responses for situations. He watches TV in bed with his boyfriend and feels the anxiety anyone in a relationship feels when introducing your significant other to a parent.

Of course, it's a little more difficult when that significant other is constantly being beeped by clients who are in need of an arousing beating.

You know from the beginning of the book not to get too invested in their relationship. I appreciated that because it saved me from getting upset by the ending, but also made me judge every part of the relationship harshly, trying to find clues as to why it just wouldn't work. You know, besides the obvious problem of a crack addiction.

The book is not for the faint of heart. While not explicit, there are a few graphic parts of the story readers might not enjoy. To me, those selections reinforce the fact that this is real and true. Kilmer-Purcell doesn't sugarcoat aspects of his life to cater to mainstream tastes.

What everyone will be able to enjoy is Kilmer-Purcell's sense of humor. Each page is chock full of witty one-liners and hilarious conversations or stories. One of my favorite parts is when Kilmer-Purcell dresses up as Aqua while working for the advertising agency to do a spoof on ABC's anti-drug campaign, ending with the line, "ABC TV. Trying Really Hard to Care."

This memoir is not just for the gay community. Don't be put off by the premise because even though it comes in an unconventional package, Kilmer-Purcell's story is one almost anybody can relate to.