The Uncut Hair Of Graves: Surrealist Gardening

In suburbia, the only good lawn is a dead lawn, a lawn where nothing moves, where every unloved bug and unsightly “weed” (in smirking quotes because only culture makes a weed) has been wiped out with a little help from our friends at Monsanto.

A 27-Year-Old’s Diary Entries From Mid-April, 1979

The girl at the Brook Theater charged me student prices; I gave her $3 for one ticket and she handed me back change after glancing at me. it’s been years since I’ve gotten in as under 18. This, following the University of Pennsylvania reception when I got mistaken for a high school senior, makes me wonder about my identity.

A 28-Year-Old’s Diary Entries From Mid-January, 1980

The supermarket cart boy in front of the store smiled in a way he knew to be flirting. There were all these beautiful boys in Florida, and they kept smiling at him! Most of them were blond, tall, thin and tanned; they wore cowboy boots or just gym shorts and seemed to move with an effortless grace.

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early April, 1987

Josh says the AIDS test experience has changed his life. He no longer thinks about chasing women but wants to settle down with just one woman. And he wants to have kids; when he thought he tested positive and was told he couldn’t have children, it drove him crazy.

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