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Quote by Michael Benzehabe

“The trick is, don’t give in to the grief. Instead, I let myself feel it, embrace it, learn from it. In bed by 9:30, up at 7:00, breakfast, then off to school where I spend five mind-numbing hours living by the dictates of San Diego County’s Board of Education, the Western version of Mao’s Little Red Book.”

Quote by Michael Benzehabe

Book:Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

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Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

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Michael Benzehabe

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Book:Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

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“Not easy having her for a mom. When did her ambitions die? If I had to guess, the day she graduated from Martha Stewart’s School for Stepford Housewives. Never inspirational, she’s more of an embarrassment for an already unpopular kid like me. What can I say? I’ve got plain-and-ordinary running through my veins. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this stench of unremarkable. It goes back generations.”

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Book:Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

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“I've heard about people gulping out loud, but this time it's me. I don’t have enough information to know if this grandfather is dangerous, but suffice to say, I’m on guard—giga-guard.”

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Book:Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

Source: Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

“Civil order mattered. Zoe didn’t know why Farah continued to wear the headscarf, but most Middle-Eastern women wore modest clothing to anchor themselves to a moral order, in an upside-down world. Zoe wore the chador as a protective shell, to erase herself, to avoid thinking, to envelop herself in the complete custody of her adopted Muslim sisters. In their care she would come out healed, able to process the bigotry that caused the murder of her Jewish parents. Then, when she was whole again, she would reclaim her place in the world. Though others couldn’t see it, behind the nameless, shapeless, Middle-Eastern garb, she was healing. The chador cocooned and nurtured her. Dour exteriors meant blossoming interiors . . . to Zoe. Judaism centered her, but Islam shielded her. Both served their purpose . . . for now.”

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“A stained and wrinkled lab coat, no doubt, hid an even worse choice of clothing. Rolled-up sleeves displayed beefy forearms covered in tattoos. Frank grimaced at Mario’s shameless immaturity. Cartoon tats?”

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“I was in the biggest breakdown of my life when I stopped crying long enough to let the words of my epiphany really sink in. That whore, karma, had finally made her way around, and had just bitch-slapped me right across the face. The realization only made me cry harder.”

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“Mario’s high spirits soon took a somber turn. He rolled himself closer to Frank. “I need this job, but you were right. More than a job, I need a way out.” Frank had him. He was about to detour the rest of Mario’s life. Build a team, deploy them, scoop up the data, get the hell out of town. Frank had left an unhappy trail of ruined technicians. Spies do that kind of shit, were his usual parting words.”

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“Some people want you to call them rabbi; some people want you to call them American; some people want you to admire their tats. We’ve all got our facades. At least the dean’s self-qualifier is based on merit. Can you say the same about your tattoos? Come on, he’s a sad man. Leave him alone.”

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“Zoe returned by rail to Claremont Village. After the train pulled away, she stood alone, beneath a security camera affixed to a lamppost. She looked up, and its lifeless eye looked straight back. In some uncontrollable fancy she turned and curtseyed, imagining someone wonderful on the other side of the lens would be captivated by her new American dress.”

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“Kam glanced back at Zoe. “Me and Saul are close.” Zoe smiled. “We are all Americans here. This is how this great nation was built--all for one and one for all.” Kam looked at Saul and rattled her head. “Wasn’t that the Three Musketeers?” –Michael Benzehabe, from the novel Unassimilated”

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