I think part of the reason ideas haven't come in is that the world of cinema is changing so drastically, and in a weird way, feature films I think have become cheap. Everything is kind of throwaway. It's experienced and then forgotten.
I was an angst-y journal writing kid.
You worry too much. Eat some bacon. . . what? No, I got no idea if it'll make you feel better, I just made too much bacon.
If it's not bourbon or sweatpants, it's going in the garbage. . . . No, don't get creative. Now is not a creative time. Now is a bourbon and sweatpants time.
When it's asshole-tightening time, that's when you see what people are made of. Or at least what their asshole is made of.
Oh spare me, being stuck in your bedroom is not like prison. You don't have to worry about being gang-raped in your bedroom.
On My First Driving Lesson “First things first: A car has five gears. What is that smell?…Okay, first thing before that first thing: Farting in a car that’s not moving makes you an asshole.
I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.
There are only three requirements for success. First, decide exactly what it is you want in life. Second, determine the price that you are going to have to pay to get the things you want. And third, and this is most important, resolve to pay that price.
Between the two men, somewhere, a truth is lying, and that is what I try to find.
The poem, the song, the picture, is only water drawn from the well of the people, and it should be given back to them in a cup of beauty so that they may drink - and in drinking understand themselves.