1
Some people have sex by putting fishhooks in each other. Couple this act with a simple understanding of the basic function of all living creatures to expand and contract. Now, try that with fishhooks.Sarah Schulman
2
It takes two to tango” isn’t even true on the dance floor. One person can do a lot of evil all on his or her own. But the Theory of Mutual Blame arose sometime before Doc was even born. Perhaps it was a takeoff on Freud’s seduction theory or the more generic practice of blaming victims for being alive. Its origins were unclear, but no one had ever had to take full responsibility for their own actions since.Sarah Schulman
3
You tell them one real thing and then the doctor thinks he knows you. He starts getting arrogant and overfamiliar, making insulting suggestions left and right. You have to protest constantly just to set the record straight. Finally he makes offensive assumptions and throws them in your face. A stranger in a bar could do the same…Sarah Schulman
4
Anna liked magazines. They were glossy machines. The only technology that she could fold. She read them on a regular basis because they were absorbing. Each one came out on a specific day of the week and was good for an hour of absorption.Sarah Schulman
5
Bryan, I know you’ve interviewed a lot of caregivers–”“ Too many, ” Bryan shot back. She inched her chin up a notch. “I’m not your typical caregiver. I’m different.” Bryan laughed with no humor. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before–okay, impress me, Delilah Walker. What exactly makes you different?Josephine Harwood
6
She cleared her throat. “Bryan, I know you’ve interviewed a lot of caregivers–”“ Too many, ” Bryan shot back. She inched her chin up a notch. “I’m not your typical caregiver. I’m different.” Bryan laughed with no humor. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before–okay, impress me, Delilah Walker. What exactly makes you different?Josephine Harwood
7
I dreamt that I took William Burrough’s penis and tied it up with piano wire. I hung him like a Chagall painting… In the next part J.G. Ballard swam through streets of female urine. The girls read his book Crash and then mowed him down with their Volkswagen, crushing his chest slowly against a brick wall. As he screamed in agony larger than representation can accommodate, they referred to his text and had orgasms. Later, they jumped up and down yelling, ‘You’re not a hero. You’re not a hero. You’re not. You’re not. You’re not.’ ““How do you analyze that part of the dream, Anna?”…”I guess I’m nervous about my birthday. .Sarah Schulman