A relationship’s complacency can only end atop the stripped sinew of an erect Doogie Howser. We’re not gonna hide at being perfect.
People want their maniacs explained. But there is no autopsy deft enough to expose how sensually disfigured a mind can get.
When you love someone who won’t love you back, that is your full time job.
Please go read the reviews for this movie on The Onion, the pissant caboodle that now passes for Roger Ebert.com, and Ain’t It Cool News, yeah, them too, for some reason.
You can’t ban my books for saying this shit because no one bought them anyway. Some guys have all the luck.
How they say something doesn’t wink at an audience, this caws its eyelids off. What we got? Mad Men? True Detective? Those shows are about acting. (Sometimes about writing in service of plot. Oh, True Detective, almost, so close until the final explanation cribs us all.)
Where the fuck are the collected plays of Ron Allen? The police have won, that’s where.
I never knew a woman who wasn’t capable of killing me with a sentence. Until now?
If one person can take from this that it is not about privilege, it is not fiction versus poet, it is none of the internet fashions of complaint and it is not anonymous (even though I am any-goddamn-pleasing-way anonymous with or without my fucking name) ...
My fault for side-stepping the usual male pretense at sensitivity or smug confidence of manipulation. I’ve saved it all for this fucking Lish frottage of a sentence.
Sean Kilpatrick: If you and I could be said to exist outside ye old literary camps, and I think our flags remain hygienic because I don’t leave the house and you’re too good at what you do, also
You know shit’s over when they flunk a nihilist out of the suckass pedagogy for bringing too much optimism.
inhabited a square-foot ghetto in Austin, cute by standards of being raised south of 8 mile, upside Detroit’s unfair putty
I won’t front about Jarmusch. He’s cooler than my ability to describe shit. He’s our genuinely cool filmmaker, anachronistic above ideal, an atavist with perfect hair. He’s the reason people should
I enjoy when a formal beauty proves they have art. Gosling did. Even Shia. Franco tries. We all mean well. There’s lots of ways to feel pain besides being ugly
Enemy is the only title a film about relationships should have.
Why is Von Trier my man? He’s my man whose bruises I refuse to conceal. I have no debate or defense, he’s atop me. I must strangle myself in his defense.
The twee hustle a brand of nostalgia excluding most. The characters involved are living out the party you missed through the entirety of your twenties. This longing accrues until you place yourself
