1. Your eyes are not a camera and neither is your language. Quit plunging something so shallow into something so deep.
2. Brad Pitt’s sex muscles have been visible in film for over 20 years. The camera is as much of a dark tunnel as it is a phallus. Find your inner cunt, instead of sticking your dick into every orifice, especially the orifice called a “book”. If you ever tell me to put a camera in my imagination again, I’ll kill myself. (pg. 10)
3. You’ve probably never been to the South and it shows. I recommend a long hot bath, a Cormac McCarthy novel, enough lube to prevent paper cuts, and stop it with the romanticism. (you know Steinbeck is from California right?) (no, no you don’t, nevermind…) (pg. 39)
4. You’ve never been poor and it shows. It’s not all dirty bathrooms in truck stops or rusted out cars in the back yard. It’s bills, and payday loans, and your only collateral/hope/chance lies in being healthy enough for the next 60 hour week. To you it’s kitsch, quaint, something that happens in an apocalypse, and fodder for your shitty words (which we’re supposed to choke on? how very porn-ish), but guess what mother fucker? It’s real life.
5. You should buy a handgun. It’s pretty sad you don’t own one, because it’s such a good phallus. A much better stand-in for a dick than a camera. But I can tell the only cock in your life is your imaginary camera and the thing betwixt your thighs. (pg. 53)
6. Watch less porn. Watch less film. Watch less. Do more. Fuck more. Be the speaker. Create an ‘i’ worth listening to. (an ‘i’ worth listening to is probably capitalized anyway)
6.9 You’re such a voyeur, that even your subject is an object (but you don’t like us to see you, do you?). (pg. 47)