Page 319 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 289

“Except when they feel like Camille.”
“How times change.”
“Blame Harvey Milk. He died.”
“Blame Harvey? My God, he was murdered.”
“Aren’t most homosexuals murdered? One way or another? Harvey
made dying fashionable. At least in San Francisco. No faggot has yet
written a book or a play about Mayor Moscone. How soon we forget. We
only dramatize the kind of Death that interests us. Death is so romantic.
Byron, Shelley, Keats. All the rock stars who die at an early age. Faggots
only want one thing in life....”
“Stop it.”
“They want to die before their faces fall. Do you know what comes
after Oil of Olay? Surgery of Olay. Then Embalming of Olay.”
“Maybe Kick’s right about you.”
“That would be a point in his favor.”
“He says you care too much about gay politics.”
“Me? Not me. He means you. He talks that way. I’ve noticed. By
indirection. That’s how he controls you.”
“Stop sniping at him.”
“He means you care too much about gay politics. I don’t even recog-
nize gay politics. Whatever that is. I moved to San Francisco long before
gay liberation. Whatever that is. I’ve watched what’s happened to the City.”
“Guys are dying. That’s what’s happening.”
“Remind me to update my mailing list.”
“Go ahead play tough guy. You’d feel different if you ever left this
penthouse.”
“I refuse to go out. It’s one of my more wonderful affectations. It’s no
surprise to me that Kick hates me. I don’t trek out daily to a gym.”
“Kick doesn’t hate anyone.”
“Sorry, I forgot. Saint Kick doesn’t hate anyone. He only preens
himself shirtless on Castro for the passing faggots’—excuse me, homo-
masculinists’—edification.” Solly laughed. “Lighten up, Ry,” he said. “I
know you’re his high priest.” Solly insinuated himself. “By the way, I
was wondering, where’s the other altar boy? The tall, dark, handsome,
muscular one?”
“Logan’s in San Diego. Kick’s been staying up at the ranch, helping
get the place back together. He’s been up there three weeks.”
“You mean he’s been missing his personal appearances on Castro?”
Solly said.
“God, you’re a bitch.”

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK