So this, I'm going to read from a new book
that I've been working on, what is-- whatever.
I've been working on it forever.
God knows, when it's going to happen.
But this is Bloodletters: An Amateur Mayanist's Field Journal.
And it's a book, in progress, about a narrator obsessed
with the ancient Maya, of what is now Central America.
They were the creators of the first writing system
in the Western hemisphere.
Only four of their books still exist.
The narrator has roots in New York,
and Honduras, homes of deteriorating empires,
new and old.
So the first one, I'll read without pictures.
"Fruit Survivor."
I've known all the survivors of the depths,
was raised by them,
put in my place by them.
Happyland survivor.
Hurricane Fifi survivor.
Hurricane Mitch survivor.
Hurricane Eta, Iota survivor.
Double hurricane survivor.
First coup in the 21st century in Latin America survivor.
First coup in 20 years in Latin America survivor.
Iran-contra survivor.
'80s counterinsurgency-based survivor.
Secret Vietnam survivor.
Caravan survivor.
Soccer war survivor.
100 hours war survivor.
Banana plantation survivor.
United Fruit, Standard Fruit, Cuyamel Fruit survivor.
Every American president in the 20th century survivor.
Every Honduran president in the 20th century survivor.
Northern Triangle survivors.
Murder capital of the world survivors.
Border caged child survivors.
Backward, invisible, forgotten, erased survivor.
Always spoken of but never spoken to survivor.
Wouldn't speak to you anyway survivor.
Trauma is a joke survivor.
Slur survivor, slurvivor,
Serve survivor.
Not from here or there survivor.
Never enough survivor.
No one knows who you are.
And when you tell them,
They don't believe you because it's not
their idea of who you are survivor.
No one really cares survivor.
A survivor of surviving.
A survivor of survivors.