Category Archives: Fiction Quoted

Already Dead, pages 17-18

…..He recognized her now. The Iron Curtain chick–immigrant from the tortured lands. Skinny, devoutly New Tribe–ethereal, yes. She had a beautiful face. She wore a white turban on her head.
…..Once or twice, but not lately, he’d dealt with her. The van she’d driven up in would be the Sheep Queen’s.
…..She looked a little wrecked, her mascara descending in streaks. Maybe she’d come from a party, left suddenly after a disastrous scene. Mussed and tearful. She was appealing like that. He wanted to participate in her fugitive chemistry.

–From Already Dead
by Denis Johnson

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Zeroville, Chapter 134

There’s a contradiction between the way things happen like a movie yet don’t feel like a movie. The things in life that are like movies have profiles as well, the profile of how they happen and the profile of how they feel. When the stranger emerges from the shadows of the 405 with the gun, Zazi lets out a small scream; out of fear for the girl, Vikar resists the inclination to reach over and gouge the stranger’s eyes behind the stocking over his head. It’s not clear at first whether this is a burglary or an act of random violence.

–from Zeroville
by Steve Erickson

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End Zone

Page 111 (Penguin CAF edition)

(The spectator, at this point, is certain to wonder whether he must now endure a football game in print–the author’s way of adding his own neat quarter-notch to the scarred bluesteel of combat writing. The game, after all, is known for its assault-technology motif, and numerous commentators have been willing to risk death by analogy in their public discussions of the resemblance between football and war. But this sort of thing is of little interest to the exemplary spectator.

End Zone
Don DeLillo

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The Orange Eats Creeps

Page 78

I see a gas station and a smokestack off in the distance. Smoke has to go somewhere. There’s no use pretending it doesn’t go into the sky… As I walk there’s a piece, a part that’s dangerous, getting more and more loose on my body and it rattles when I walk. Got to get that replaced… We may be aliens who just landed here, but having taken a real good look around it seems like the signs all point to our ancestors having lived in this same exact spot. In fact, just the other day I went up to the graveyard and found a grave with my name on it. It was full though, and had been for 140 years. If all the people who came before us — way before any of this shit was even here — didnt have such a thing about speaking of the dead, of their relatives, and if all of their props and creations werent so biodegradable then maybe wed know their names too. But they’re gone and this place will never be the same.

The Orange Eats Creeps
Grace Krilanovich

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