"So … do you wanna make out?"
"Make out. Fake out. Take out. Stakeout. OHMYGOD we should get Chinese take out and watch Another Stakeout! It's so good it's bad. And so bad it's good. It's both. You'll love it. I love it. So you should love it. What kind of noodles do you want? I don't like egg rolls that much, but you can get them if you want, and I can make fun of you for eating them and call you Emilio. Or do you want to be Richard Dreyfuss? Because I'm not —"
"…"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing, it looks like something. Definitely has that 'something' vibe."
"It's just …"
"What?"
"Shut up, you know?"
"What do you mean? You trailed off, so I just wondered —"
"No, not then. Well, then, too, but I mean in general: Just shut up sometimes, okay?"
"Are you saying I talk too much?"
"I lack the vocabulary and energy to describe just how much you talk. It's a non-stop thing."
"But don't you think it's cute and fun and quirky? I thought you liked my quirky. Quirky's a very big thing with me, and it seems that guys like the quirky —"
"I will punch you in the mouth so hard your teeth break if you do not stop talking. Right now."
"…"
"Thanks. Wow. … Silence. So this is what everyone's been talking about."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying the constant chattering is slowly killing me. And don't you ever want to do anything different? Like go out? Or, you know, if we stayed in, maybe not watch a crappy old movie or something. I mean, don't you have, you know …"
"What?"
"A bad side? Or at least a normal one? I don't know. Would it help if I wore a Santa hat or something? Would you like that?"
"Why would I like that?"
"I don't know, saw it in a movie or something. Anyway, look: The point is, you have to shut up. Or I will kill you. Your incessant blathering is driving me right up the brink of murder, and it's almost like you want to push me over the edge. So if you want to make out or something, great. But if you just want to sit around and ramble on about every damn worthless thing you saw on the drive home, then I will kill you. Or just leave you. I really don't know which anymore. I really care about you, you know, but every single thing that happens to you does not require some clumsy attempt at arcane wit. Just … shut up, you know? Shut up. That's all I'm asking."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
"…"
"So, do you have the Santa hat with you?"
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Los Angeles, California I'm a twentysomething white male with ambitions to be a professional film critic and generally spend my days getting paid to watch movies and write about it. I try not to think too hard about how I want to build my life around talking about other people's creations and not mine. A compulsive reader and stubborn cineaste, I take an often contrary stance to my more fundamentalist peers and upbringing by celebrating the pursuit of the good, and the Good, in life, love, art and film. If you watched enough episodes of a few TV shows ("The Hungry and the Hunted," "The Cut Man Cometh," "The Body," "Waiting in the Wings," "Out of Gas," "April is the Cruelest Month," "20 Hours in America," "Colonial Day" for starters), you would understand me completely, and you'd also realize that much of my worldview and philosophical insights are heavily influenced by fictional works/programs, and many of the good things I've said in my life are just a regurgitation of someone else's imaginings. I guess I was made to be a film critic. This Month
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Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again. — Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives. — John Stuart Mill We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget. — G.K. Chesterton We were, for the briefest of moments, something greater than the sum of our uncertain parts; we were youth itself, in all its painful glory and sharp joy. — August Van Zorn There is a time in the lives of most writers when they are vulnerable, when the vivid dreams and ambitions of childhood seem to pale in the harsh sunlight of what we call the real world. In short, there's a time when things can go either way. — Stephen King Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town. — Ask the Dust, John Fante |
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