“Love is pretty much a decision anyway. Just like happiness. You can decide to either love someone or not, be happy or not. The rest is just commitment to the idea.”
“Yesterday I had a woman ask me what kind of salad dressings we have. I told her we have sesame soy dressing, spicy lime vinaigrette, and blue cheese. She made a face and asked, 'Is that all?' 'Yes,' I told her, 'those are all of our dressings.' 'Don't you have any other dressings?' he says. I mean, what the hell? What does she think? That I'm holding out? I was tempted to say, "No, we actually have an entirely different assortment of dressings that I don't tell people about the first time they ask, because they don't deserve these great secret dressings. But now that you have proven your worth, I will show you to the VIP room, where the array of salad dressings will dazzle and delight you.”
“All of my most significant moments somehow involved music. It's like my life was a John Hughes film and somebody had to put together the perfect soundtrack.”
“People make changes in their life, and they blend and assimilate. They find a way to make it work. That's where I've always taken the wrong turn. By not taking a turn at all.”
“Wendy warmed my heart, earned my trust, touched my soul, and then touched me in a lot of other places. And right after we'd slept together for the very first time she looked up at me with her chocolate-brown, trustworthy doe eyes and said, "I've got herpes. I thought you should know.”
“you can have one of mine," he says. "i'll yank one out right now."
no, that won't count. It has to be the lash that naturally falls out. "
He gets on his knees and starts looking for my lash.”
“Check her out. She‟s fuckin‟ hot.”
“Wedding band,” I say.
“She sings in one?"
“No, jackass. She's wearing one.”
“And it's not that Pearl Jam was any more amazing than anyone else. I think we just liked who we were when they were who they were.”
“it's 4:21 am. He's gotta be done having mind-blowing-knock-your-dick-into-your-watch-pocket sex with her, and she's probably spooning with him right now. Ugh, it makes me sick. I'll bet he's in front, too, the dick. Anyone would know that Heaven is supposed to be the little spoon, but he's probably making her be the big spoon.”
“Someone once said, People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. They forgot one other option: Some people come only to give us their contact information, let us know that we really need to get together sometime, and why don’t we give them a call?”
“My dad says it’s because I haven’t met the right girl yet, but sometimes I think maybe I’ve met her five times already but ended up staring at her friend all night and asking her out, the one who would eventually steal eighty dollars out of my wallet to pay for a bikini wax, which I never got to see.”
“That red spot!” she says with alarm.
“That’s a freckle!”
“It wasn’t there before...” she says as she inspects her entire arm.
“It’s cute.”
“It’s not cute.”
“Then it’s mine,” I say. “If you don’t like it, it’s mine. I’ll call it Brady.”
“My freckle?”
“Yes.”
“You’re naming my freckle after yourself?” she says. “And you think I have issues?”
“It’s like a star. People buy stars in the constellation and name them after people al the time. As gifts.”
“So then are you buying my freckle? Because I don’t know if you can afford my freckle. My freckles don’t come cheap, you know.”
“I’ve already claimed it,” I declare. “It’s not up for discussion anymore. Just eat your ice cream. And don’t spill any on Brady.”
“When Nirvana came onto the scene, they pretty much saved music.”
“Thank you,” she says and yanks the pull-tab off the soda can. She takes a big sip and aaahs. Then she takes the pull-tab and puts it on her ring finger like a wedding band. She holds her hand out and looks at it.
“Someday,” she says wistfully.
“Wow, a soda pop pull-tab ring. You’re easy. Most girls want their ring from Tiffany’s.”
“Well, I’m not most girls.”
She’s telling me?”
“I don’t know where she comes up with this stuff. Her mind... it’s like I’ve come upon this secret vault that science will someday discover — or probably never discover. Which is fine by me. Kind of like when there’s a band I really like but nobody knows about them. I want people I like to hear them, but when the whole world jumps on the bandwagon I get pissed. Because I found them first.
Unless, of course, it’s one of my bands... in which case the world is more than welcome to jump. But Heaven... I’d prefer it if nobody else jumps on her.”
“Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman's womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child rearing and man bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to be. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment man rests inside of her.”
“Other works in English by Naimy are: Memoirs of a Vagrant Soul, or Pitted Face, Till We Meet and his biography of Kahlil Gibran, who was for sixteen years his intimate friend and companion in New York.”
“the children supposed that he was a pilgrim.”
“I'm dying of AIDS, but I'm dying by accident. I didn't choose, it was a mistake. I thought it was a white's or homosexual's or monkey's or druggie's sickness. I was born a Tutsi, it's written on my identity card, but I'm a Tutsi by accident. I didn't choose, that was a mistake too. My great-grandfather learned from the whites that the Tutsis were superior to the Hutus. He was Hutu. He did everything possible so his children and grandchildren would become Tutsis. So here I am, a Hutu-Tutsi and victim of AIDS, possessor of all the sicknesses that are going to destroy us. Look at me, I'm your mirror, your double who's rotting from the inside. I'm dying a bit earlier than you, that's all.”
“It was the excitement, the richness of the whole experience, the mixture of pleasure and danger and freedom and the sun. You know, when we came back here, for a long while I still went on living in Euphoria inside my head. Outwardly I returned to my old routine. I got up in the morning, put on a tweed suit, read the Guardian over breakfast, walked into the University, gave the same old tutorials on the same old texts... and all the while I was leading a completely different life inside my head. Inside my head, I had decided not to come back to England, so I was waking up in Plotinus, sitting in the sun in my happi-coat, looking out over the Bay, putting on Levis and a sports shirt, reading the Euphoric Times over breakfast, and wondering what would happen today, would there be a protest, a demonstration, would my class have to fight their way through teargas and picket lines or should we meet off-campus in somebody's apartment, sitting on the floor surrounded by posters and leaflets and paperbacks about encounter groups and avant garde theatre and Viet Nam.”
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