Men don't traipse. We. . . Swagger
For some reason, I have a very strange conception of time. I am constantly hovering at some overview, more macro.
I get uncomfortable when people give me presents and watch me open them. I don't have birthday parties, because the idea of a group of people singing and looking at me while I'm blowing out candles gives me hives.
When I go into a pitch room and I'm pitching something with a writing partner, everybody tends to look at the guy, even if I'm doing a lot of the talking.
I think sometimes big budget means explosions! CGI! CGI, the possibilities are so limitless that it begins to be impractical.
For me, fantasy and speculative science fiction are the genres that feel closest to how I feel about being alive. Like, when I feel the most invigorated by just even a walk down the block in twilight, when the street lamps are just coming on and there's mist and some shadowy thing in silhouette in a window, I naturally invest all of those things with deep mythology and mystery and meaning. I think I need to believe in that version of reality because I get very scared when I don't.
I think we're scared of intimacy - all of us, a little bit.
Unfortunately, nature seems unaware of our intellectual need for convenience and unity, and very often takes delight in complication and diversity.
I do think that the fear mentality - of scarcity - comes from within.
A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know almost nothing.
I grew up years ago doing something that unfortunately doesn't hardly exist any more, a medium called Radio.