“‘But what I want to know is why lesbians dress so fuckin’ bad? I mean, they dress like they going to a cookout to roast frankfurters and eat discount potato chips. What do they carry in their purses? Paper plates and plastic forks? Tan shorts, hiking boots, purple socks, and a fucked up haircut. Look like they ready to pitch a tent and have a potato-sack race at a moment’s notice. How come these bitches ain’t got no style? I mean, I know all these bitches ain’t working construction?’” (154-5)
“One Thursday, Rabbi Eisenstadt asked Spencer how he, as a Jew, would spend Christmas Day. Spencer said he’d go to the movies like everyone else, and Rabbi Eisenstadt pronounced him fit to be an American Jew.” (83)
“‘Hip-hop community. Where the hell is the opera community? The heavy-metal community? How the hell do you define people by the kind of music they listen to? And man, to be honest with you, I don’t even like rap music too tough. Inner city. Don’t get me started….And how come you never hear about the outer city? Tell me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t there only be one inner city per city? In New York City there’s upteen thousand ‘inner-cities,’ none of them nowhere near each other. Where the fuck is is the outer city?’” (215)
“The gun altered the general mood of the gathering. Charles and Nadine reacted to the pistol in much the same way a childless couple reacts to another person’s baby. ‘My boy, where’d you get that? That shit is nice. Yo, son, let me borrow it.’” (56)
“Listening to Yolanda denigrate him was like going to church Easter morning. He didn’t want to do it, but he sat still out of obligation, hands folded in his lap, hoping his headache would prevent the sermon from seeping into his brain.” (38-39)
“The mentally ill were the only ones who mingled.” (180)
whooo. once again, this perfect writer comes through with this perfect pondering about the constraints of identity and how and why we gather. his wit, his references, his gift of character shaping-and the ultimate-how it all comes together, makes him one of my favourites to binge-read, as i tend to do. it’s kind of the best book to reminisce on as i listen to luke mispronounce everything in my ears (“weird al yanokitch” etc.) on the combat jack podcast. that book is kind of a big deal right now, but i’ll just get mister to pack it in his suitcase for xmas in atlanta so i can read it by a pool, as it should be.
as i invite folks to celebrate my bday this year, i gotta send a special shout out to masimba-gone too suddenly and too soon, gentle one. i guess whitney was looking to hire a dj. i know that the toronto that has adopted me has been made just a bit special-er in part by you, and i’m blessed to have met you, hugged you, and eaten food with you. the tributes are flowing from all over this city and texas, montrill. until we meet again, check for my boy dags-you’ll recognize each other by the smiles.
all the love.