August 29th, 2013
July 16th, 2013
As the people who adore you stop adoring you; as they die; as they move on; as you shed them; as you shed your beauty; your youth; as the world forgets you; as you recognize your transience; as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one; as you learn there is no-one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving - not coming from any place; not arriving any place. Just driving, counting off time. What was once before you - an exciting, mysterious future - is now behind you. Lived; understood; disappointing. You realize you are not special. You have struggled into existence, and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone’s experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone’s everyone.
Synecdoche, New York
June 12th, 2013
February 7th, 2013
January 23rd, 2013
Your heart’s desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery.
Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian