Price. You're Priceless.

What Do You Do?' She Asks, Holding Out The Vest. 'what Do You Do?' 'what Do You Do?' She Asks, Her Voice Shaking. 'don't Ask Me, Please. Okay, Clay?' 'why Not?' She Sits On The Mattress After I Get Up. Muriel Screams. 'because... I Don't Know,' She Sighs. I Look At Her And Don't Feel Anything And Walk Out With My Vest.

'do You Know What Ed Gein Said About Women?' [...] '"when I See A Pretty Girl Walking Down The Street I Think Two Things. One Part Of Me Wants To Take Her Out And Talk To Her And Be Real Nice And Sweet And Treat Her Right."' I Stop Finish My J&b In One Swallow. 'what Does The Other Part Of Him Think?' Hamlin Asks Tentatively. 'what Her Head Would Look Like On A Stick...'

I Wasn't Acting On Passion. I Was Simply Acting.

At Columbus Circle, A Juggler Wearing A Trench Cloak And Top Hat, Who Is Usually At This Location Afternoons And Who Calls Himself Stretch Man, Performs In Front Of A Small, Uninterested Crowd; Though I Smell Prey, And He Seems Worthy Of My Wrath, I Move On In Search Of A Less Dorky Target. Though If He'd Been A Mime, Odds Are He'd Already Be Dead.

Regardless Of The Business Aspect Of Things, Is There A Reason That There Isn't A Female Hitchcock Or A Female Scorsese Or A Female Spielberg? I Don't Know. I Think It's A Medium That Really Is Built For The Male Gaze And For A Male Sensibility.