The Truth About Belafonte Garcia
'In fact, to many people in the know, Belafonte was already Bob Dylan, Che Guevara and a Guess? model rolled into one. He had run from tear gas in Seattle; he had walked nude down the streets of Cancun; he had helped AIDS victims in Africa. With these experiences and a Manhattan private-school education, he was the face of young, insurgent American politics, of a rebel in blossom, of cool.
'You get on your horse two steps ahead of Shark. It's a slow horse, but as the ball nears you feel as though you're somehow connected to it, that the lines of destiny -- ball, glove -- have already been drawn and it is your duty to fulfill your part, to put your glove where it is supposed to be, or else everything collapses. You stretch out parallel to the ground. There is a moment where it looks as though you'll never reach it, and this, for some reason, causes panic to fill your lungs, as if you’re a dying swimmer, as if your last breath is located inside the ball.'
'I want boring nights. I want early bedtimes. I want planned trips to European capitals. I want an annual trek to New York. I want to sit on a couch in Pottery Barn and talk about whether or not we should make this purchase. I actually saw a couple doing this. Who does this? I know what this sounds like. I know how awful it sounds.'
An Interpretation of, and Pronunciation Guide For, REO Speedwagon's 1980 Hit, 'Keep On Lovin' You'
'You know as well as I do, proper pronunciation in this song is everything. It brings it to life: It's the voice of the Inner-Self (if you'll pardon the yoga-speak; I'm taking a class now), the true voice, the one that doesn't speak our language, but if it did, it would have to be interpreted from another dimension, so that when it came through, the words would be skewed, slippery, like an fevered, possessed robot trying to talk: re-mem-BERRRRRRRR.'
Karaoke Daydream, in Three Parts
'I ignore them, that is, until I reach my favorite part of the song. It follows the break, and it starts, 'Now my fears they come to me in threes.' I sing this and the verses that follow directly to Gwyneth, walking slowly to her, the hand that's not holding the mic open and inviting to let her know I mean no harm, that I mean every word that comes out of my mouth.
'When he was learning to talk, he said this. He meant to say this. When he was eight, he learned how to say this. He was told never to say it again.'
'We’ve been doing this for months now. Ever since the layoffs. Layoffs are not something you want to go through. They don’t tell you. They don’t treat you like a human. You just walk in one day and your friend is crying in her cubicle, and another friend, whose wife just had a kid, is making several trips to the bathroom. One by one, you all get called into the Boss’s office, closed doors, HR person sitting by Boss’s side. And he fucking reads from a piece of paper, like he’s on television or something.'
My Hair Is So Crazy
'In the morning meeting, my boss -- 40, with sane hair -- is rambling on about something or other. I’m drawing pictures of cavemen and cavewomen on my pad of paper. My hair is talking about moving to Alaska.
“I hear it’s nice there,” my hair says. “It’s wild and free.”
“Hair,” I say privately, teasing, “you are so crazy. Get a grip. You can’t move to Alaska.”
“No,” my hair says, “I can move to Alaska. You’re the one that’s holding me up. You’re so not crazy."'
'"You're burning your own book because you're a writer, and burning your own book is just a way of taking the power away from the book burners and anyone else who tries to limit what you do," she said. She had a light smile on her lips, which were still red and wet with whiskey.'
OTHER SELECTED WORKS CAN BE FOUND IN PRINT PUBLICATIONS