Givin Props

1:25 AM Friday, December 3, 1999

old man drinkin love   22547 bytes

As I've said before, my favorite writer is a sub-10-dolllar restaurant reviewer for a San Francisco weekly paper: Dan Leone. One can argue the technical merits of his writing all one wants but I say it is so because he is a member, in delicious standing, of my community. I believe, for the most part, in the Humanist credo, partially espoused by my second favorite writer, Kurt Vonnegut thusly: "We serve as well as we can the highest abstraction of which we have some understanding, which is our community." Kurt, the functionless figurehead of the American Humanist Association, may be an even greater writer than Dan Leone but he is an old East Coast type guy who delights from afar, and by his own prescription, must take a backseat to that bratty Cheap Eater. Mr. V has pointed out to me that the previous head was none other than the late author and biochemist Dr. Isaac Asimov. It just so happens that the dead science fiction writer is next, and just ahead in line of Neil Peart, lyricist of the progressive rock group Rush, both being ever-important adolescent inspirations. I'm sure Neil is not complaining. The art fag in me is sticking his finger down his throat because James Joyce has not been mentioned thus far. Let the puke "spew out of him like a fire hose of molasses", as Mr. William S. Burroughs would say. But Joyce is waiting patiently for inclusion and I'll put him in here. AFTER A DRUMMER. It's doesn't matter who comes after Joyce, as the hope for understanding is strained way beyond it's limits, but let's put Vyasa, the supposed author of the Bhagavad-Gita out on the outskirts of town. If you come across him in your travels you may learn you're not so far from home.