Ani DiFranco: First of all, please stop screaming, because it will be much better for our conversation, for our dialogue.
Lana Wachowski: I’m not trying to disobey; I’m just trying to fit in.
DiFranco: Well, that’s nothing new.
Wachowski: OK, OK, I get it -- you’re very encouraging, I love you.
DiFranco: I've got a subscription to The Nation. Ms. Magazine.
Wachowski: Let someone else be valedictorian.
DiFranco: There's no fucking way with the amount of power involved.
Wachowski: Just before she opened the door I dove desperately between the shadowed folds between the racked dresses, my heart pounding like a mouse, listening to her call my name over and over, praying that somehow I might remain invisible.
DiFranco: But after days and days of meetings, she called last night and it was so great to talk to her because she was re-inspired at the possibility of one person to make a difference.
Wachowski: We went to dinner.
DiFranco: You know how it is.
Wachowski: She grabs me, she’s yelling at me.
DiFranco: Of course, we're talking about some crazy guys, some crazy violent motherfuckers.
Wachowski: Just as the platform begins to rumble suddenly I notice someone walking down the ramp.
DiFranco: When that first building fell there was a color blindness in that blinding flash of light that I found so beautiful.
Wachowski: After school I go to the nearby Burger King and write a suicide note. I wrote about the way that knowledge had an actual materiality not unlike the materiality of a ladder that could be used to gain access to places and worlds that were previously unimaginable.
DiFranco: Yeah. Whatever, I mean, that's a very, sort of, obvious and basic thing to say, but somehow I feel the need to keep saying it.