"Fifty years ago, there would have been queer blood on this street, instead of queer love. Barney’s Beanery used to have a sign that said “Fagots: Stay Out”
"You can’t blame us for dancing. You can’t blame us for drinking and holding our bodies close. It’s harder to beat us and kill us, but it still happens. You raised us to hate ourselves, and only now are we barely human to you.
"I used to drink because I hated myself. I drank because I was never going to take Debbie to the Senior Prom: I wanted to be Debbie, in long white gloves and a backless dress, smoking on the patio with the other girls in shoes that were too tight.
"The THOOOOMP around us drives home the escape, the flight, the sensual overload we need to remember that we still may be strangers here; we drink, we tweak, we fuck, we snort, we rave. I used to try for that zone, that precious zone where the cocaine and tequila took me for a brief walk on a night with a cool breeze like this one, with a rain of jacaranda blossoms, in my dreams because in truth I was never going to be a girl; I was sentenced to life as a false front; I had the rage that only a prisoner feels, and if I’m honest with myself, I still do and always will."