Blood and Guts in High School

The only real thing is that split (second) between life and death.

excitement and danger and blackness I have that feeling and I feel really happy, more than sex and love and wealth, I like danger

continuing unchanging calm danger.

like a marriage that doesn't stop

only the whole world appears and disappears

and adventures pop up little blots

of madness, long stretches of nothing -you don't know where you're at -

I think most writers are crazy 'cause they sit in their rooms all the time and scribble down stuff no one wants to read and they don't fuck.

I was desperate to fuck more and more so I could finally get love.

My friends were just like me. They were desperate - the products of broken families, poverty - and they were trying everything to escape their misery.

Having cancer is like having a baby. If you're a woman and you can't have a baby 'cause you're starving poor or 'cause no man wants anything to do with you or 'cause you're lonely and miserable and frightened and totally insane, you might as well get cancer. You can feel your lump, and you nurse, knowing it will always get bigger. It eats you, and, gradually, you learn, as all good mothers learn, to love yourself.

Your rich parents ain't helping:

cause Love's more powerful than social climbing.

The society in which I'm living is totally fucked-up. I don't know what to do. I'm just one person and I'm not very good at anything. I don't want to live in hell my whole life. If I knew how this society got so fucked-up, if we all knew, maybe we'd have a way of destroying hell.

BEYOND CRIME, DREAMS, AND SEX: DISASTER

My father stopped sending me money. I had to work seven days a week. I had no more feelings. I was no longer a real person. If I stopped work for just a second, I would hate. Burst through the wall and hate. Hatred that comes out like that can be a bomb.

As soon as we stop believing in human beings, rather know we are dogs and trees, we'll start to be happy.

Dear dreams,

You are the only thing that matters. You are my hope and I live for and in you. You are rawness and wildness, the colours, the scents, passion, events appearing. You are the things I live for. Please take me over.

My cunt used to be a men's toilet.

I'm not trying to tell you about the rotgut weird parts of my life. Abortions are the symbol, the outer image, of sexual relations in this world. Describing my abortions is the only real way I can tell you about pain and fear . . . my unstoppable drive for sexual love made me know.

I have to stay alive. I can't do anything about the emotional . . . but I can keep myself alive physically.

... he knew all about jealousy. He had just spent the night on a rooftop with a girl who was telling him that she was madly in love with David Bowie.