Tow truck, pull me through Manhattan
Waved like a king
Woe to whoever not clappin’
Rats scatter in a predictable pattern
The pimp nails like talons
“I don’t know which seems more futile to me right now, writing a novel or writing another book of social criticism. Both of them seem, in the current context, futile. I suppose what I’d most like to do is write for the sake of writing and not even try to publish. But, I’ve been sort of embarrassingly lucky in terms of being paid for my so-called dissent. My punishment, I suppose, is how many student papers I’ve had to grade.”
Curtis White