When the Sick Rule the World
(Semiotext(e), 2015)

Whistle, whistle, you ain't getting to me, bitch. The whistle is the piercing blade of rationality.
(Whistle While You Dixie, p. 18)

When the sick rule the world, perfume will be outlawed.
(When the Sick Rule the World, p. 29)

"Everyday Barf" says so much. It says too much. Meaning is so surplus it decimates form -- or is it the other way around, its form is so vicious it beats the fucking pony of content to bits. The pony explores and chunks of content bob about, collide with one another in the great toilet bowl of memoir.
(Barf Manifesto, p. 48)

The Barf is feminist, unruly, cheerfully monstrous [...] Barf is an upheaval, born of our hangover from imbibing too much Western Civ.
(p. 63)

I want to display my body with her ease, want to ram it down my readers' throats, rather than always hunching over, hiding, hiding.
(The Feminist Writers' Guild, p. 89)

Need the success of a political group be measured on its impact on a larger social order? What about the ways it transforms the lives and psyches of its members - these tiny revolts - are they not profound?
(p. 89)

I'm planning to fan my grieving to a frenzy and write about it.
(Phone Home, p. 104)

I doubt that human perception is capable of nonfiction.
(In the Shadow of Twitter Towers, p. 217)