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"Josefina started rolling around in Iris’s bra. She pawed it, sniffing it, got tangled up in it. It must have been very sweaty, a special kind of sweat because she was going ecstatic just as I was. It was funny except for a moment I imagined this cat having a heart attack too. Saw her rolling wildly around in the cup of Iris’s bra, eyes wide, like when Stuart died. It made me nervous. Afraid for what Josefina was seeing now: that somehow she’d give me away. Afraid I’d have to run screaming, naked, hysterical down to call the vet and out onto the street with a dead cat in my cat box, looking for an angry cab on a Saturday afternoon on Soho when the traffic was barely moving, to see if the vet could jump start her heart. And while she was at it, mine. If she died on me now, I’d really be fucked."

—

Ann Rower, Lee & Elaine

This paragraph is amazing and hilarious.  I love the way she weaves in the super-over-exposed beginning of Howl, and makes it seem both completely natural and completely preposterous.