It was still around seventy-two degrees, though humid, far below the hundred-degree-plus heat of midday. ![]() Everyone was streaked from ashes and dust accumulated by sleeping and sitting on the ground near the fire. The babies' bottoms were calloused from scooting across the ground, a mode of locomotion that for some reason they prefer to crawling. Prepubescent children were naked, their skin leathery from exposure to the elements. None of the men were carrying their bows and arrows. The women wore the same sleeveless, collarless, midlength dresses they worked and slept in, stained a dark brown from dirt and smoke. ![]() I could see mothers running down the path, their infants trying to hold breasts in their mouths. The Pirahas were loosely bunched on the riverbank just to the right of my house. Pulling them on, I slipped into my flip-flops and headed out the door. I picked my gym shorts off the floor and checked to make sure that there were no tarantulas, scorpions, centipedes, or other undesirables in them. I got out of bed to get a better look - and because there was no way to sleep through the noise. Everyone was focused on the beach just across the river from my house. A crowd was gathering about twenty feet from my bed on the high bank of the Maici, and all were energetically gesticulating and yelling. I was now completely conscious, awakened by the noise and shouts of Pirahas. Often when I first opened my eyes, groggily coming out of a dream, a Piraha child or sometimes even an adult would be staring at me from between the paxiuba palm slats that served as siding for my large hut. Children were usually laughing, chasing one another, or noisily crying to nurse, the sounds reverberating through the village. Mornings among the Pirahas, so many mornings, I picked up the faint smell of smoke drifting from their cook fires, and the warmth of the Brazilian sun on my face, its rays softened by my mosquito net. My dwelling was flanked by two smaller Piraha huts of similar construction, where lived Xahoabisi, Kohoibiiihiai, and their families. I opened my eyes and saw the palm thatch above me, its original yellow graying from years of dust and soot. A breeze was blowing up from the Maici River in front of my modest hut in a clearing on the bank. The sun was shining, but not yet too hot. It was 6:30 on a Saturday morning in August, the dry season of 1980. I roused from my deep sleep, not sure if I was dreaming or hearing this conversation. "Look! There he is, Xigagai, the spirit." They are this gay fighting f***ing force, all right? And they're beating the Russians, the gays are beating the Russians.Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle Now, she just got divorced, right? All right, but the REAL ending of the movie is when they fight the MIGs at the end, all right? Because he has passed over into the gay way. I met this girl Amy here, she's like floating around here and everything. ![]() Okay, now let me just ask you - I'm gonna digress for two seconds here. All right? That is how she approaches it. She is, okay, this is how I gotta get this guy, this guy's going towards the gay way, I gotta bring him back, I gotta bring him back from the gay way, so I'll do that through subterfuge, I'm gonna dress like a man. ![]() She's got the cap on, she's got the aviator glasses, she's wearing the same jacket that the Iceman wears. She's like, "What the f***, what the f*** is going on here?" Next scene, next scene you see her, she's in the elevator, she is dressed like a guy. He goes to her house, all right? It looks like they're going to have sex, you know, they're just kind of sitting back, he's takin' a shower and everything. They're saying no, go the gay way, be the gay way, go for the gay way, all right? That is what's going on throughout that whole movie. She's saying: no, no, no, no, no, no, go the normal way, play by the rules, go the normal way. They're gay, they represent the gay man, all right? And they're saying, go, go the gay way, go the gay way. He's right on the f***ing line, all right? And you've got Iceman, and all his crew. You've got Maverick, all right? He's on the edge, man. It is! That is what Top Gun is about, man. It is a story about a man's struggle with his own homosexuality. It's about a bunch of guys waving their d*cks around. What is Top Gun? You think it's a story about a bunch of fighter pilots. You know what one of the greatest f***ing scripts ever written in the history of Hollywood is? Top Gun.
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