“If many of the people I knew in New York in the seventies were twisted or paranoid or even evil, we all agreed one was a saint: Joe Brainard.  Joe was a writer and visual artist from Oklahoma who stuttered and spelled erratically and was so timid that he danced in place, looking down, if he thought anyone was paying attention to him.  Someone had once complimented him on his chest so he always wore his shirt open to the waist, even in subarctic winter weather.” - City Boy by Edmund White via jonno