“The chick came into my room to catalog my footage. I told her I’d send my stuff out for coding. She told me that was her job ’cause she knew how he liked things numbered. I told her any asshole could number the shit. She said maybe so, but she thought she should do it. I told her what the fuck was so complicated about sending the shit out for coding. She said there was nothing complicated about it, she just had to assign the right numbers to the rolls. I told her any asshole could do that. She said maybe so, but she’d still better do it herself. I said shit, woman, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, and she said she knew who she was talking to and she was just trying to get stuff out for coding. I said get the fuck out of my room. She said she would if I’d give her the footage and she would catalog it in her room. I said get the fuck out of my room. She said she would if I would please give her the footage and she would catalog it in her room. I said get the fuck out now. She said she would if I would please give her the … I gave her my foot karate chopped right in her fucking fat stomach and told her who the fuck did she think she was fucking with ’cause I was the best fucking goddamn black cameraman in this country and I’d walk all over her before I’d give her my footage to code.”
—Kathleen Collins, “Documentary Style”