I'm not particularly focused on the hereafter. But when I do think of heaven, I like to think of it as the character Belize decribed it in Angels in America:
Piles of trash, but lapidary like rubies and obsidian, and diamond-colored cowspit streamers in the wind. And voting booths. And everyone in Balenciaga gowns with red corsages, and big dance palaces full of music and lights and racial impurity and gender confusion. And all the deities are creole, mulatto, brown as the mouths of rivers. Race, taste and history finally overcome.
And today, as I reflect on the passing of Maurice Sendak (who collaborated on Brundibar with Tony Kushner, author of Angels in America), I am hopeful that he has been reunited with his partner of 50 years, Eugene Glynn, and that the two of them are gleefully dancing a wild rumpus together.
