h1

have i mentioned that i love sherman alexie?

October 16, 2009

because i do. from his august piece in the new yorker:

“You know, before you go in the MRI tube they ask you what kind of music you want to listen to—jazz, classical, rock, or country—and I remembered how my dad spent a lot of time in MRI tubes near the end of his life. So I was wondering what kind of music he chose. I mean, he couldn’t hear shit anyway by that time, but he still must have chosen something. And I wanted to choose the same thing he chose. So I picked country.”

“Was it good country?”

“It was fucking Shania Twain and Faith Hill shit. I was hoping for George Jones or Loretta Lynn, or even some George Strait. Hell, I would’ve cried if they’d played Charley Pride or Freddy Fender.”

“You wanted to hear the Alcoholic Indian Father Jukebox.”

“Hey, that’s my line. You can’t quote me to me.”

“Why not? You’re always quoting you to you.”

“Kiss my ass. So, hey, I’m O.K., I think. And I’m going to the store. I’ll see you in a bit. You want anything?”

“Ah, man, I love Trader Joe’s. But you know what’s bad about them? You fall in love with something they have—they stock it for a year—and then it just disappears. They had those wontons I loved, and now they don’t. I was willing to shop for you and the boys, but I don’t want anything for me. I’m on a one-man hunger strike against them.”

first, i would like to find a way to work “alcoholic indian father jukebox” into my daily conversation, preferably as a way to describe my favorite kind of country music.

second, my particular TJ’s items that are NEVER AGAIN TO BE FOUND are chicken pirogies, which are so much better than the potato ones (which are still pretty good).

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