You're In A Lesbian Pulp Novel From 1958! Wh…

(Yes, I’ve been reading Beebo Brinker again.) That bar we went to last night, the one Bill just seemed to know about as if by intuition — that bar didn’t have any windows in it… The innately feminine curves of your roommate’s hairbrush Subway full of people on it — the deadening press of bodies — the insolent yet knowing stares of strange men — the queer feeling of being buried alive and yet somehow still in a hurry to get somewhere —

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