-I’m pitching my script today.
-Please don’t say pitch.
donald:i loved sarah,charles. it was mine, that love. i owned it. sarah didn’t have the right to take it away. i can love whoever i want.
charlie:but…she thought you were pathetic.
donald:that was her business, not mine. you are what you love, not what loves you. that’s something i figured out a long time ago.
Do I have an orginal thought in my head, my bald head? Maybe if I was happier my hair won’t fall out. Life is short, I need to make the most of it, today is the 1st day of the rest of my life. *sigh Im a walking cliché.
He shot me! Isn’t that fucked up!
I don’t want to cram in sex or guns or car chases or characters learning profound life lessons or growing or coming to like each other or overcome obstacles to succeed in the the end. The book isn’t
like that, and life isn’t like that. It just isn’t.
I’m pathetic, I’m a loser. I have failed, I am panicked. I’ve sold out, I am worthless, I… What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck am I doing here? Fuck! It is my weakness, my ultimate lack of conviction that brings me here. Easy answers used to shortcut yourself to success. And here I am because my jump into the abysmal well – isn’t that just a risk one takes when attempting something new? I should leave here right now. I’ll start over. I need to face this project head on and…
I’m putting in a chase sequence. So the killer flees on horseback with the girl, the cop is after them on a motorcycle, and it’s like a battle between motors and horses, like technology versus horse.
If you really loved something, wouldn’t something of it linger?
its not who you love
John Laroche: Point is, what’s so wonderful is that every one of these flowers has a specific relationship with the insect that pollinates it. There’s a certain orchid look exactly like a certain insect so the insect is drawn to this flower, its double, its soul mate, and wants nothing more than to make love to it. And after the insect flies off, spots another soul-mate flower and makes love to it, thus pollinating it. And neither the flower nor the insect will ever understand the significance of their lovemaking. I mean, how could they know that because of their little dance the world lives? But it does. By simply doing what they’re designed to do, something large and magnificent happens. In this sense they show us how to live — how the only barometer you have is your heart. How, when you spot your flower, you can’t let anything get in your way.
Mom says it’s psychologically taut.
no shit i’m a fun character!
Nothing happens in the world? Are you out of your fucking mind? People are murdered everyday. There’s genocide, war, corruption. Every fucking day, somewhere in the world, someone sacrifices his life to save somebody else. Every fucking day, someone, somewhere, takes a conscious decision to destroy someone else. People find love; people lose it. For Christ’s sake, a child watches a mother beaten to death on the steps of a church. Someone goes hungry. Somebody else betrays his best friend for a woman. If you can’t find that stuff in life, then you, my friend, don’t know crap about life!
ok, you know what? fuck the sun dial! i know how to get out of here. i know this swamp like the back of my god damn hand. youre just like everybody else; you just attach yourself to me and suck me dry. why dont you get your own fucking life? your own fucking interests? spoiled bitch.
orchid love
She’s lying. Everyone says they would want to meet Einstein or Jesus. Someone who answers everything right is lying
Sometimes this kind of story turns out to be something more, some glimpse of life that expands like those Japanese paper balls you drop in water and then after a moment they bloom into flowers, and the flower is so marvelous that you can’t believe there was a time when all you saw in front of you was a paper ball and a glass of water
That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That’s what I decided a long time ago.
The orchid is a very sexual flower. Orchid derives from the latin word Orchis, which means testicle.
To begin… To begin… How to start? I’m hungry. I should get coffee. Coffee would help me think. Maybe I should write something first, then reward myself with coffee. Coffee and a muffin. So I
need to establish the themes. Maybe a banana nut. That’s a good muffin.
We are what we love, not what loves us.
We’re playing Boggle.
Whose gonna play me?…I think I should play me.
Why didn’t I go in? I’m such a chicken, I’m such an idiot. I should have kissed her, I’ve blown it. I should just go and knock on her door right now and kiss her. It would be romantic, something we could some day tell our kids. I’m gonna do that right now.
Why should I feel like I have to apologize for my existance? Maybe it’s a brian chemistry? Maybe thats whats wrong with me. Bad chemistry, all my problems and anxiety can be reduce to a chemical embalance or some kind of mis- firing synapsis. I’d still be ugly, though nothing is going to change that.
Yep, traditional chicky-huts that’s what we used them for.
You’re the shiniest ant.
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