And not in the fabuloso way that I prefer either.
So I give you a poem by one my absolute favorite authors, the brilliant and funny Sherman Alexie.
If you haven't already, read The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. Check out Indian Killer and check out his website for interesting bits, short pieces and what he's into now. ALWAYS interesting.
So I give you a poem by one my absolute favorite authors, the brilliant and funny Sherman Alexie.
If you haven't already, read The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. Check out Indian Killer and check out his website for interesting bits, short pieces and what he's into now. ALWAYS interesting.
How to Write the Great American Indian Novel
All of the Indians must have tragic features: tragic noses, eyes, and arms.
Their hands and fingers must be tragic when they reach for tragic food.
The hero must be a half-breed, half white and half Indian, preferably
from a horse culture. He should often weep alone. That is mandatory.
If the hero is an Indian woman, she is beautiful. She must be slender
and in love with a white man. But if she loves an Indian man
then he must be a half-breed, preferably from a horse culture.
If the Indian woman loves a white man, then he has to be so white
that we can see the blue veins running through his skin like rivers.
When the Indian woman steps out of her dress, the white man gasps
at the endless beauty of her brown skin. She should be compared to nature:
brown hills, mountains, fertile valleys, dewy grass, wind, and clear water.
You can read the rest of this fab poem here.
Cheers!
Their hands and fingers must be tragic when they reach for tragic food.
The hero must be a half-breed, half white and half Indian, preferably
from a horse culture. He should often weep alone. That is mandatory.
If the hero is an Indian woman, she is beautiful. She must be slender
and in love with a white man. But if she loves an Indian man
then he must be a half-breed, preferably from a horse culture.
If the Indian woman loves a white man, then he has to be so white
that we can see the blue veins running through his skin like rivers.
When the Indian woman steps out of her dress, the white man gasps
at the endless beauty of her brown skin. She should be compared to nature:
brown hills, mountains, fertile valleys, dewy grass, wind, and clear water.
You can read the rest of this fab poem here.
Cheers!
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