Geek Love

by Katherine Dunn

We need that warm adult stupidity. Even knowing the illusion, we cry and hide in their laps, speaking only of defiled lollipops or lost bears, and getting a lollipop or a toy bear’s worth of comfort. We make do with it rather than face alone the cavernous reaches of our skulls for which there is no remedy, no safety, no comfort at all. We survive until, by sheer stamina, we escape into the dim innocence of our own adulthood and its forgetfulness.

He used to say, ‘If you don’t mess with the monkey, the monkey won’t mess with you.’

“Peace,” says Arty, and the speakers above the tank lift his voice to the canvas peak of the tent roof. The bottoms of my feet say “Peace,” and the padded bones of my pelvis whisper “Peace” to my bowels. A shiver passes upward into my stomach, and my spine feels “Peace” like fear curling upward to my skull with my shoulder blades flinching around it. “As

“The truth is always an insult or a joke. Lies are generally tastier. We love them. The nature of lies is to please. Truth has no concern for anyone’s comfort.” —Arturo Binewski to N.S.

But when the look in his eye changed, I realized, if there’s one thing a healthy, beautiful, utterly normal boy does not do, it’s fall in love with half of a pair of Siamese twins.

“If that’s your idea of pleasure, it’s no wonder you need religion.”

pride leaves the lights on and power can do it in the dark.”

It was none of Arty’s business that I loved him. It was my secret ace, like a bluebird tattooed under pubic hair or a ruby tucked up my ass.