Cover

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pp. 1-1

Title Page, Copyright

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pp. 2-5

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Foreword

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pp. 5-8

Introducing the reprint of a classic book should be a fairly cut and dried affair. Normally there are rusty reference points to polish and now unfashionable stylistic choices to repackage for readers with more evolved tastes. The writer of such an introduction can suggest the importance of the book in question by noting recent and more familiar books that owe their existence to the classic...

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July 3, 1986

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pp. 9-18

KK says all horror novels begin with the locale and a description of the weather, "The Reader likes to feel situated." It's a cool clear San Francisco night, streetlights diffuse the vast panoply of the heavens but if you drive an hour north the stars are astonishing, the sky speckled like the black-suited shoulders of a guy with really bad dandruff, so many holes in...

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July 30, 1986

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pp. 19-26

Stuck together in our bed the purpose is pagan ... as far as that's possible for two people with college degrees ... KK picks a long brown hair from my mouth and tickles my cheek with it I am rubber you are glue I wrap myself around his thigh and come mascara smeared in charcoal arcs, hair gnarled, I must look like an Alice Cooper revival gasping and making those bulgy...

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August 26, 1986

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pp. 27-28

You are my best friend my confidante a staple of every Hollywood biopic, you listen to Mina you give advice, you're so good at it you should win an award Best Sup)porting Actress positioned beneath me like a cunt wet and ready to receive MY narrative drive. The rest of your life scatters on the cutting room floor...

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March 16, 1987

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pp. 29-38

Why's my skin so porous? I cut the tarot deck and Madame Artemis deals out my future in the shape of a cross. Her large graying head leans over the table then shoots up and into my face, "Your cards say 'baby.'" I lean back in my chair, "Baby?" She ponders a bit recharging her psychic intensity and smiles serenely, "Yes, a child a human child." Whenever I hold a squirming little tidbit...

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December 29, 1988

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pp. 39-48

I hear you've been under the weather. Let me tell you a bedtime story. There is a wolf named Leander who's chained in the backyard of a young poet named Dion. The first time Dodie met him Leander, always happy to make a new friend, jumped on her his close-set icy stare his sawblade jaw Dodie freaked and ran up the back steps, her tongue flapping like Little Red Riding...

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October 10, 1989

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pp. 49-64

Dion confides how bored he is with his girlfriend, then casually asks, "How long have yOll and KK been married? ... That long, huh?" Suddenly his voice goes husky: "You and I should get together and have a little snack on the side." Like the subatomic meson a flurry of desire passes through..

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January 6, 1990

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pp. 65-68

Submission being a form of ecstasy ... I am doing exactly what I can do: lying on my back flanneled in apricot gingham ... feverish ... beaded flesh so hot the word "furnace" emerges but there is no furnace a bundle of chemical reactions no need for fantasy with the physical world itself so bright and gauzy, blue radio on dresser olive Boy Scout shirt in closet, the foam...

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November 5, 1990

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pp. 69-72

I like your face ... relentlessly pleasant and smiling a face devoid of dark corners. The first time ever I saw your face was in Norma's kitchen-I was feeling awkward and you were standing near the guacamole- whenever I looked in your direction you'd catch my eye and wouldn't let go a...

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February 7, 1991

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pp. 73-82

Quincey is absent, absent as you. He's been in Barcelona for twelve days with his wife. Hieroglyphs litter my computer screen, I look back over my shoulder: a messy bed, a bed devoid of Quincey, of me, of both our bodies. I swivel in my office chair to better study these vanished others those two naked forms on the bed rolling about from pillow to pillow, silent...

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October 22, 1991

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pp. 83-92

At Stephen's housewarming Quincey and I pushed our secret affair to the limit by having a fight in the window seat, two "virtual strangers" making faces at one another and whispering angrily. The effect was definitely Dada-we were a flurry of angles that kept shifting planes, me a woman wailing (under her breath) that her heart had been decimated, him using that god-awful word "ambivalent," whenever his wife would peek around the corner...

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February 14, 1992

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pp. 93-114

When I met Quincey he seemed so helpless, a blind nOUIl fumbling about for a seeing-eye verb. For six months he carried my photograph and letters in his pocket a frayed lump over his breast that he switched from jacket to jacket to hide them his fingers were long and thin, pale as axolotls, with squat filed nails-immaculately clean-if I were Brian De Palma I'd cast...

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October 31, 1992

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pp. 115-122

Last summer in Vancouver I walked into an art opening and there he was, sitting on the window ledge. His chic glasses convinced me he was an intellectual, though he was glamorous enough to be a movie star, his shirt black, his hair wild and gray. Beside him perched a petite woman dressed in dark arty clothes, with a shoulder-length perm and a perky nose. I whispere...

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November 17, 1992

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pp. 123-134

It was Matt Dillon's fault ... his cocky smile his raven hair, those eyes ... I hadn't spoken to Dion in months, not since the night he stood me up-I sat fuming in the Cafe Picaro an hour and a half of weak bitter coffee and my boring wrist watch finally Dion rushed to my table, sweating, his cheeks full of corpuscles. "Well, it's about time!" He said he'd been busy beating....

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January 8, 1993

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pp. 135-136

You tell me about the show at Cinematheque, "An Evening of Films Dealilg with Women's Sexuality," you expected it to be a bust distressed found footage, oceanic Anais Nin banalities, yet another contrasty SM scenario, "Pierced nipples, big yawn. " But then a woman spread her legs pushing her skirt down between them Mina she was so hot the camera so lovingly trained on her,...

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June 3, 1993

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pp. 137-146

You asked Dodie how it feels to live in a woman's body, asked Dodie to mail you a list 5-10 observations of aspects. Point number one: as she walks down Market Street her pubic bone itches a sharp jabbing itch a pinching it's maddening but unlike the men I've seen absently clawing their crotches she...

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August 22, 1993

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pp. 147-164

Up to now Dodie's been signing the letters you've received, I've been guiding her hand by remote via a transmitter embedded in the base of my skull-or I've tried to. ''Direct input, " Harvey Keitel intones in Saturn 8. "Brain to brain." ~F'arrah Fawcett gasps. Robots are such a struggle, developing wills of their own, sucking up the dregs of their creator's subconscious, smashing the...

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January 28, 1994

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pp. 165-196

You know Mina doesn't like to be kept waiting. I've been writing and writing all these letters but not knowing where to mail them. I was sitting around my apartment when suddenly I remembered the time we dropped acid how could I have forgotten whenever we went to touch an object, a ball a toaster a piece of paper the toast, our hands reached through a wide colorful...

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October 17, 1994

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pp. 197-222

So here I am, working on my ending, going crazy with endings bye-bye book, so-long lover Dodie's handing me one eviction notice after another, my lease on her body she says is OVER this letter is "the land's end: the last fingers, knuckled and rheumatic,/ Cramped on nothing. " I try not to be pessimistic as Plath but, Sing ... we were at my kitchen table eating ratatouille when suddenly I was...

About the Author, Other Works in the Series, Back Cover

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pp. 223-226