Anna asked:
If you could write yourself into any novel and affect its outcome, which would that be?
I would dive into the middle of one of the early volumes of Armistead Maupin’s Tales Of The City series – maybe the scene where Michael “Mouse” Tolliver wins the “Hot Buns” dance contest at the Endup – and would introduce myself as Someone From The Future.
“Look! I can prove it! Here’s a magazine from The Future! Look at these photos of Cher on her Farewell Tour! OK, OK, bad example. Well, let’s see what’s in the news section. Look, here’s your state governor, Arnold Schwarzen…”
“No, I have NOT been at the Angel Dust. Actually, I need to have a word with you about that shit as well, but… oh, I know, look what I’ve got in my pocket! It’s a tiny portable phone! Isn’t that amazing? And you can type little messages onto it, and it will even guess what word you’re typing! And it can take pictures as well! Neat, huh? You believe me now, right?”
“What? Yes, of course it’s got a built-in pocket calculator. Why do you ask? What’s the big deal about… oh, right; pocket calculators are still the Big Thing round here, aren’t… look, can I just get to the point? There’s this huge epidemic just around the corner, and you guys all need to start wearing condoms every time you f**k – immediately, do you hear – or else many thousands of you will be dead within the next fifteen years. Including your new lover, Michael. Yes, I’m serious. Serious as a heart attack, baby. Now, what exactly are quaaludes? Are they fun? Do you have any?”
(Yes, I’m assembling one of those questionnaire thingies. More info below.)
troubled diva 