Burning Down the House

ROSE: Like the statues of a fallen civilization, we struggle to piece together what their lives may have been.

ROSE: This one, this one was full of weird gay people.

ROSE: Their classical object of worship was a dyke horse.

DIRK: Sounds like a kick-ass society to me.

DIRK: You know what I mean, though.

DIRK: Does it only matter if I say outright, "I am a homosexual."?

ROSE: I don't think so.

ROSE: You know how readers feel about gay subtext.

ROSE: They adore that shit.

ROSE: I can count on one hand the number of things a nice, hearty gay subtext didn't improve.

DIRK: Also, it's not even subtext, then.

DIRK: It's not a dream sequence, filled with loaded, though oblique imagery.

DIRK: It's not a web of symbols and meaning so fuckin' intricately woven that no literal read of an event could possibly be satisfying.

DIRK: It's not a goddamn spider's web of narrative.

DIRK: I'm just kissing a dude.

DIRK: It's text.

DIRK: Or it would be, if I were a fictional character.

ROSE: Maybe that wouldn't be enough to have someone understand you're gay.

ROSE: Identifying with lesbianism as a concept does come easier to me than an applicable label, whatever that may be, does to you, though maybe that's a weird confluence of familial impressions.

ROSE: After all, there's no shortage of pride merch lining Roxy's iteration of our shared domicile.

ROSE: Not to spend time dwelling on the minutia of identity, I'd like to get back to the topic at hand...

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