My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, Vol. 1

It was like Françoise was calling herself 'crazy' for loving a world that would hurt her so bad, but she can't stop loving it. Yeah. She told me it was 'an artist thing'. As artists we want to give the world the gifts we were sent here to give, but we know the worlds won't always respect the gift... And sometimes even hurt us... It's kind of crazy.

Courage isn't about not being scared... It's about carrying your fear into battle.

All my life I have seen pictures that show women as being what you call 'sexy' when they are being hurt. That sends send me a message and I think that the message is, women are at their best when they are being hurt [...] What I'm trying to say is, if I don't notice the lie about sexy = hurt, if I don't talk about it, maybe I'll believe it.

No, I do not want any kind of censorship. Anka always said, "The minute they tell you that you should not see something, that is the minute you should make it your business to see or read it or whatever".

Perhaps 'a good monster' is a person who makes the most thoughtful choice possible, even when there are no good options...

Never let anyone's darkness provoke you into your own midnight.

Like I said, basements usually smell like surrealism. But kitchens and gardens almost always smell like impressionism. Because our kitchen is part of a basement apartment, it smells like the early impressionism of Vincent Van Gogh - all big strokes of umber and ochre - a peppery greasy I-love-you smell.

Sometimes a thing happens that's so bad that it feels like things should be made to look on the outside, the way they feel on the inside.

I guess that's the difference... a good monster sometimes gives somebody a fright because they're weird-looking and fangy... a fact that is beyond their control... But bad monsters are all about CONTROL... They want the whole world to be scared so that BAD MONSTERS can call the shots.

Deeze says that most things in life aren't right or wrong. He says there's not too much black or white. To his eyes most stuff is like pencil shading. Lots of shades of gray. Mama says it's different. She believes it's either right or wrong. Me? I think they're both wrong. For me it's like a photograph. You have to look close. It looks like shades of gray, but it's really lots and lots of tiny dots of inky black on a perfect page of white,

Nazi, Nazi, Nazi. A Nazi is a person who chooses to NOT SEE anything that would keep them from being cruel...even if what they will NOT SEE is how their cruelty will destroy them!

...who'd walk to school on Monday and who'd have to pass the smoking heap of what used to be their neighborhoods because when adults are haunted, it's the kids who get the worst frights...The word "aftermath" came to mind. I guess it means the time after something terrible happens when you do the math to figure out what has been added and what's been subtracted.

I've come to believe that love is actually the weirdest monster out there. And if you think love doesn't rip people to bloody shreds - you're dead wrong!

Sometimes you don’t let yourself know what you know.

Jeffrey loves to talk about politics and science fiction books and I can never tell which one he's talking about.

This is just another reason why being a human girl stinks compared to being a monster. When I’m a monster I won’t have to keep my mouth shut. No, I’ll open my mouth and use my rows of long sharp teeth to rip up guys like Jerry.

... this is the tender BUD, the SOUL of the tulip... this is the TUNIC... the stiff skin that protects the bulb from the envy of the other flowers... the SCALES hold the tulip's memories... if the bulb feels that we love her and if she can forget Holland she will grow roots from here...

Sure seems like there's one sure way to get dead in the U. S. of A. and that is to do the right thing.

Of course when the history books tell of the groups murdered by the Nazis, they never list the prostitutes, because I'm sure the mention of their deaths is considered a stain on the other victims. The attitude is that the lives of prostitutes are worthless. I think it is self-hate. Our world hates anyone who would accept us and our bodies, and our secret desires without reservation. But that is what the ladies taught me... to welcome disdained things.

Sometimes I think if you were to put one of those X-Ray machines up to me, you would see the old Missy, the Missy from when we loved monsters together and I have to take care of that part of her... Because inside of Missy that part is in a coffin, in a crypt, staked, hungry, and all alone.

People who have been loved by their mothers won't understand what I'm about to say — There are secret unspoken words that flow from a mother to her child. It starts when the child is inside her. Because of the secret words, either the child will feel that the door of the world is closed to them or that they are welcomed. For the child who isn't welcomed there is always the impulse to oblige the mother... and leave. This temptation whispers to them all their lives. It tips their better judgment off balance. It causes them to ignore their intuition, to dance at the edge of the chasm...

Two weeks ago we learned about the "cephalophore" saints like St. Denis here who carry their own heads... if you love the kind of stuff I do, being Catholic is the way to go... that is... if you can overlook the nuns.