“Over our lives preside the great twin leitmotifs of the 20th century – sex and paranoia. In a sense, pornography is the most political form of fiction, dealing with how we use and exploit each other, in the most urgent and ruthless way.”—
My lover Picasso is going through her Blue Period. In the past her periods have always been red. Radish red, bull red, red like rose hips bursting seed. Lava red when she was called Pompeii and in her Destructive Period. The stench of her, the brack of her, the rolling splitting cunt of her. Squat like a Sumo, ham thighs, loins of pork, beefy upper cuts and breasts of lamb. I can steal her heart like a bird’s egg.
She rushes for me bull-subtle, butching at the gate as if she’s come to stud. She bellows at the window, bloods the pavement with desire. She says, ‘You don’t need to be Rapunzel to let down your hair.’ I know the game. I know enough to flick my hind-quarters and skip away. I’m not a flirt. She can smell the dirt on me and that makes her swell. That’s what makes my lithe lover bulrush-thin fat me. How she fats me. She plumps me, pats me, squeezes and feeds me. Feeds me up with lust till I’m as fat as she is. We’re fat for each other we sapling girls. We neat clean branching girls get thick with sex. You are wide enough for my hips like roses, I will cover you with my petals, cover you with the scent of me. Cover girl wide for the weight of my cargo. My bull-lover makes a matador out of me. She circles me and in her rough-made ring I am complete. I like the dressing up, the little jackets, the silk tights, I like her shiny hide, the deep tanned leather of her. It is she who gives me the power of the sword. I used it once but when I cut at her it was my close fit flesh that frilled into a hem of blood. She lay beside me slender as a horn. Her little jacket and silk tights impeccable. I sweated muck and couldn’t speak in my broken ring. We are quick change artists we girls.
Bernard Herrmann - Main Titles (via Sisters: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
“I launched into an eager ten minute explanation of why I didn’t want any title music…After I finished, Herrmann exploded.
‘No title music? Nothing horrible happens in your picture for the first half hour. You need something to scare them right away. The way you do it, they’ll walk out.’
‘But, in Psycho the murder doesn’t happen until 40…’
‘You are not Hitchcock! He can make his movies as slow as he wants in the beginning! And do you know why?’
I shook my head.
‘Because he is Hitchcock and they will wait! They know something terrible is going to happen and they’ll wait until it does. They’ll watch your movie for ten minutes and then they’ll go home to their television.’
Herrmann was brutal, and, of course, right.”
-Brian De Palma, quoted in A Heart at Fire’s Center: The Life and Music of Bernard Herrmann