Quotes from Chris Kraus

When the form's in place, everything within it can be pure feeling.

So don't be too fast to attribute yourself with miraculous sexual powers, The Christ of Love. Emma and I created you out of nothing, or very little, and in all fairness, You owe us everything. While you flounder in your daily life we have built you up as a truly powerful icon of erotic integrity.

What's the matter?" you asked, seizing an idea. "Did I burst your balloon - destroy the fantasy?" I struggled for a way to answer this without my clothes. ... Well his was very cruel, but loving you'd become a full-time job and I wasn't ready to be unemployed.

Richard seemed to like our morning conversations about Brecht and Althusser and Andre Gorz, but later on he turned the group against me for being too cerebral and acting like a boy. And weren't all these passionate interests and convictions just evasions of a greater truth, my cunt? I was an innocent, a de-gendered freak, 'cause unlike Liza Martin, who was such a babe she refused to take her platforms off for Kundalini Yoga, I hadn't learned the trick of throwing sex into the mix.

Every question, once it's formulated," she writes, "contains its own internal truth. We have to stop diverting ourselves with false questions

for the first time it occurred to her that perhaps the only thing she had to offer was her specificity. By writing Dick she was offering her life as Case Study.

Visions of you vision of me Things to do things to see This's my way to cut it up You better wait a minute honey Better add it up

Time's an unsealed envelope and crime's a metaphor for anguish, private symphonies of intensity exploding in the dark.

The message is, IT'S GETTING LATE. Be glad you're in a California art school but don't forget you live by compromise and contradiction cause those who don't just die like dogs.

Qui Servum Magnum - He Who Serves Greatest.

Why should women settle to think and talk about just femaleness when men were constantly transcending gender?

I'd been reading one of her new stories. It was the kind of story everybody likes, about a tough girl who becomes a truer version of herself by uncovering her vulnerability. It was the kind of story people like because its universe is played out in the story of one person. It was the kind of story (dare I say it?) that women're supposed to write because all its truths are grounded in a single lie: denying chaos.

I thought its problem was the same problem many Jews have in wanting to "place" the Holocaust, to find some meaning or redemption. An end to rootless cosmopolitanism.

It returned suddenly about a week ago—the spirit of sex, like one of these little Roman gods, touching every part of my body, arousing them to the sacredness of pleasure. As if the veil was lifted and a new field of human possibility revealed.

Qui parle, et pourquoi, voilà la seule question.

There were some low moments out there on the road tonight—abandonment and what's the point?—but then I pulled in a radio station from Albuquerque playing historical rap and breakdance circa 1982. Kurtis Blow and disco synthesizers made me feel like I could drive all night.