Had this conversation with a guy. We were in the concessions line on the second floor of the United Artists Court Street Stadium 12 in Brooklyn. He wore a pink jumpsuit and had a face that looked like a thin roll of toilet paper, his hair raining off him when he’d scratch his head.
He said, You like popcorn?
I said, If it’s good popcorn, yeah. But I also like it if it’s bad.
He said, Is that a Devin Booker jersey?
I said, You can see it is.
He said, What is it about him?
I said, I’m interested in fluidity that expresses itself in new profanities. —— is boring. Booker is gan. Seen him at the mall dancing to “Venus In Furs.” He has no hate in his heart and a terrific smile. His eyebrows tranquilize elephants. Once, he made the sky go from black to mango to black again. This was at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday in July. I had bought me a nice sign that day to hang on the door of my bedroom. It said in Geeza Pro: Seems like it’d be kind of exhausting to talk about the state of television with Steve Nash. He probably loves saying that he loves great storytelling.
He said, You put butter on your popcorn?
I said, I think that ruins it.
Booker will make your mother place pictures of him in the corner of her bathroom mirror. She’ll perform monologues to them. One will be short: Have you seen Dodgeball? She will look on him and imagine a world without pain. The best way to tell if you’re getting the most out of life is to watch him pull off the bounce and, in that moment, try to think if you’ve ever done anything wrong. A dove watched Booker work out, reconsidered his whole life, and shortly thereafter intentionally flew into an eighteenth story window at the Sheraton Grand in Phoenix. The one across the street from the Massage Works. Just before impact the dove asked aloud in a distinctly Lower Arkansan dialect What I’m post to do?