О гомосексуализме

Из "Literature+Illness=Illness" Боланьо. Мне вообще этот отрывок нравится, но мне также интересна выделенная фраза. Действительно, эти люди -- не гомосексуалы (и не бисексуалы)?

Fucking when you don't have the strength to fuck can be beautiful, even epic. Then it turns into a nightmare. But what can you do? That's how it is. Consider, for instance, a Mexican jail. A new prisoner arrives. Not what you'd call handsome: squat, greasy, pot-bellied, cross-eyed, malevolent and smelly into the bargain. Before long, this guy, whose shadow creeps over the prison walls or the walls of the corridors at an exasperating, slug-like pace, becomes the lover of another guy, who is just as ugly, but stronger. It's not a long, drawn-out romance, proceeding by tentative steps and hesitations. It's not a case of elective affinity, as Goethe understood it. It's love at first sight; primitive, if you like, but their objective is not so different from that of many normal couples or couples we consider to be normal. They are sweethearts. Their flirting and their swooning are like X-ray images. They fuck every night. Sometimes they hit each other. Sometimes they tell the stories of their lives, as if they were friends, but they're not really friends, they’re lovers. And on Sundays, their respective wives, who are every bit as ugly as they are, come to visit. Obviously, neither of these men is what we would normally call a homosexual. If someone called them homosexuals to their faces, they'd probably get so angry and be so offended, they'd brutally rape the offender, then kill him. That's how it is. Victor Hugo, who, according to Daudet, was capable of eating a whole orange in one mouthful -- a supreme test of good health, according to Daudet, and a sign of pig-like manners, according to my wife -- set down the following reflection in Les Miserables: sinister people, malicious people know a sinister and malicious happiness. Or that's what I seem to remember, because Les Miserables is a book I read in Mexico many years ago and left behind in Mexico when I left Mexico for good, and I'm not planning to buy it or reread it, because there's no point reading, much less rereading, books that have been made into movies, and I think Les Miserables has even been turned into a musical.

Об "офисном планктоне"

Давно ничего из Боланьо не цитировал. Сейчас читаю "By night in Chile". Вот про этот самый "офисный планктон", как его некоторые в ЖЖ называют, отрывок. Мне этот отрывок, в отличии от других, которые я цитировал, не так, чтоб уж очень нравится. Но мне кажется примечательным пафос героя, очень он на ЖЖ-шный похож, мне показалось. По-моему, в ЖЖ примерно такую запись можно было бы увидеть.

For coffee he insisted we go to the Haiti, a repulsive place that collects the scum of the city offices, the middle management, vice-this, assistant-that and deputy-the-other-thing, who consider it good form to drink standing up at the bar or in bunches scattered about the establishment's barn-like space, fronted, as I remember it, by two large glass windows, from the ceiling almost down to the floor, so that the clients standing inside, with a coffee cup in one hand and a battered ring-binder or briefcase in the other, provide a spectacle for the passers-by, who simply cannot resist looking in, albeit from the corner of an eye, at the mass of bodies crowded there in legendary discomfort.

Только, думаю, ЖЖ-писатель использовал бы предложения покороче.