Last night I finished reading The Contortionist's Handbook. What a great book. I think this will have to be added to my top ten list along with Invisible Monsters and October Country.
Instead of talking about the book, I wanted to share what was my favorite paragraph in the entire book.
When you're in love, your brain secretes endorphines into your blood. Organic morphine leaks out of a gland in your skull, feels like a low-grade opium rush. Some people confuse the two, the head rush and the love. You think you're in love with a person, but you're in love with a syringe. Skin like liquid silk, hair, eyes, laugh, smile, impulses, trust, confidence, curves, perfume, sweat, affection, but still a syringe. You're high and hooked, and soon comes the more, more more: marriage, career, mortgage, children, school, it's harder and harder to feel that rush.
Happens all the time, men and women. Body clocks twenty years out of sync between genders, the rush dries up. You look for new hooks, new fixes, anything for that more, more, more. Some people burn their lives to the groud doing so, fodder for talk radio and daytime television. These same people assail the evils of drugs and urine test their children.
Read this book.