Malina and I, since we are so distinct, so unalike, and this isn’t a question of sex or kind, the stability of his existence and the instability of my own. Of course Malina has never lived as convulsively as I have, he’s never wasted his time on trivialities, by phoning around, letting events take over, he’s never gotten into trouble, much less spent half an hour staring at himself in the mirror only to rush off somewhere, always late, stammering excuses, perplexed by a question or embarrassed by an answer. I guess even today we don’t have much to do with one another, we put up with each
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Me and Quinn
