I don't want to think about Paulie. I don't want to think about Paulie. I don't want to think about Paulie.
Money Breton is on a rant. In this fierce and wired diary, she chronicles the forces massing against her. Three husbands have left. IRS agents are whamming on her door. Her grown children are in trouble and even her cat is missing. Back and forth between a small southern town and the pumped-up insanity of Filmland, U.S.A., Money's convinced her career as a script doctor is being ripped from her hands. She's been fired by most of the studios, and she's beginning to think that her dealings with Hollywood have fractured her personality and rendered her a "multiple." She talks to herself nonstop. She tells her mirrored reflection, "That face needs cheekbones," says to her hands, "Quit shaking - people can see."
She glues and hammers and paints every item in her house. She calls her ex-husbands: "You did what kind of work?" She forges loving inscriptions to herself from the authors of books in her library. She drives her car in great circles, all over the South. Throughout it all there is Mev, her darling and puzzling daughter, living close by but seeming always just out of touch, and Paulie, her son, the damaged victim of a violent crime now living under police protection in New York City. While both her children appear to be losing all of their battles, Money fights even harder to win a few of her own.