A man alone is suspicious. A man with friends is excusable.

I take a deep breath to steady myself. I hate teaching. But it makes me money for whores. And I love whores.

Yes, Beethoven was brilliant. But he chose to write songs. He should have chosen something more interesting. Like murder. Music only reveals yourself. Murder reveals others.

You’ll leave hundreds of discarded women in your wake, dozens of gutter babies with no one to love and nowhere to live. Dozens of me. Ra knows this world can’t handle that.

Fate has a fearsome humor.

I cornered one of the Patrol and threatened his eldest son’s life. Still not satisfied with the threat. Wasn’t creative enough. I just said I would kill him. I didn’t specify how.

I’m naked. I have only the skin on my back, and even that isn’t all there. I’m soaked in blood, streaked with sweat. Every inch of me is red.

Darling, if you care about me, then there’s something wrong with you. Loving me is like loving a chainsaw.

You’re not alone. We’re all broken. And we’re all there for each other. That’s what the Roofers are. A family for those who have none.