ID theft

My favorite living author, Sherman Alexie, pops up again. An excerpt from a LA Weekly piece well worth reading in full, available here:

And then I turn the corner and see him, the Indian guy onstage. He’s taller than me. His skin is much darker. His black hair is twisted into perfect braids. I’m jealous. I mean, yes, I’m a handsome guy, but the man onstage is gorgeous. He looks far more Indian than I do. Everything about him screams Indian. I feel inadequate in his presence. How am I going to read my poems after he has already read my poems so well? But then he sees me. He stops performing.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks me. “You’re not supposed to be here.”