Joe Brainard(1942-1994).  I love the humor and humanity in his work.  He seemed like a person I could have a nice afternoon tea with.


Once when grandmother was sick in bed, and I was all alone with her, she had to go to the bathroom. So I picked up her 80 pound body and started to carry her. But when I got into the hall, I dropped her. I just stood there and laughed and laughed. And grandmother cried and cried. There was always something very special between us.

Short Story

—-Ten years ago I left home to go to the city and strike it big. But the only thing that was striking was the clock as it quickly ticked away my life.


—-I was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1942.
—-No, I wasn’t. I was born in Salem, Arkansas in 1942. I always say I was born in Tulsa tho. Because we moved there when I was only a few months old. So that’s where I grew up. In Tulsa, Oklahoma.
—-A lot has happened between then and now, but somehow, today, I just don’t feel like writing about it. It doesn’t seem all that interesting. And it’s just too complicated.
—-What’s important is that I’m a painter and a writer. Queer. Insecure about my looks. And I need to please people too much. I work very hard. I’d give my right arm to be madly in love. (Well, my left.) And I’m optimistic about tomorrow. (Optimistic about myself, not about the world.) I’m crazy about people. Not very intelligent. But smart. I want too much. What I want most is to open up. I keep trying.

(via Dennis Cooper)

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