January 2010
Sarah Howard: Can I open my eyes?
Us: They already are.
December 2009
Since I entered this state I’ve been searching for a validation for its...
– Humanity through me
DEVIN'S TOP FIFTEEN OF 2009 →
Chud has hands down the best writing about film news on the internet. Hands down. Nobody better combines humor, knowledge and criticism than their writers. Enjoy.
God doesn’t care nearly as much about where you have been as He does about...
– Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, “Remember Lot’s Wife,” 13 January 2009
Gasp! I love Splendid Table!!!
– Embarrassingly enough - me upon getting in my car and turning on NPR.
Film School Reject's 30 Best Films of the Decade →
This list is interesting because it seems to be just slightly off kilter and off of center from what other decade lists are consistently shaping up to be.
J.D. Salinger: Holden Caulfield is unactable
filmosophy2:
From Letters of Note:
Ever since its release in 1951, a steady stream of eager producers, directors, screenwriters and actors have unsuccessfully attempted to bring J. D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye to the big screen, all falling at the first hurdle when confronted with Salinger’s resolute refusal to sell the rights to his novel. The letter below, written in 1957 in response to an...
Back to the Future
Marty McFly: Calvin? Why do you keep calling me Calvin?
Lorraine Baines: Well, that is your name, isn't it? Calvin Klein? It's written all over your underwear.
Marty McFly: Where are my pants?
Lorraine Baines: Over there, on my hope chest.
6 tags
In England we have a saying for a situation such as this, which is that...
– Simon Foster
Oddities
There is something odd about memories. Especially looking backward upon impulses followed that seem out of place in your own self-perception of behavior. It’s not even full memory that seems as if it were plucked out of someone else’s story, but rather brief moments within the memory. A hand slapping a thigh. The rough feel of a couch. Your best friend laughing in the other room at the...
La preuve du pire, c’est la foule.
– Senaque