i dont care how many times i watch, i blubber like Zuzu every time Harry Bailey comes storming through the door—the fool flew all the way up there in a blizzard!
i seem to date only women half my age (+n) which means i text much more than i would prefer and bristle over tone much more than is expected. to which i say im an editor, if no longer by trade then certainly by temperament.
Hemingway purportedly wrote the shortest novel on record. six words. For sale: baby shoes, never worn. now imagine if he attached an exclamation point to the end of that motherfucker. For sale: baby shoes, never worn!
— the rooster, jack gilbert
— the sound of things falling, juan gabriel vasquez
never did make it to Juniors
Finally, R.L. came out. “Well, well, well,” he baritoned into the microphone, picked up his guitar, and sat down. He drank from a glass of whiskey thatsat beside his chair. “This glass has a hole in it,” he said. “A big hole, right here on the top.” In the next moment the wallboards were thumping and the bass was so loud I could feel it throbbing in my breastbone.
i once looked up long enough from where Jennifer Connelly was s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g to see Lou Reed in a terrycloth robe holding a samurai sword
the painfully ponderous start is real fucking hard to explain in a movie that ends with such spectacular humanism