Someone has to be a pig covered in maggots, right?

Keith 2022-04-21 09:02:51

Charlie Kaufman's new book, "I Want to End It All," by my favorite screenwriter, tells the story of a couple's journey back to their man's house as a guest. The swing in front of the dilapidated house, the frozen lamb, the rotten pig, the strangely old and suddenly young jake parents, the phone call that the girlfriend doesn't want to answer, the inexplicable ice cream shop, the inexplicable dance and awards, all this can't help but make I wondered if they were being swept away by the vortex of fast and slow time, or were they jumping on different timelines. However, after reading it, I found that was not the case at all. This time, Charlie Kaufman and the original author did not add any fantasy elements to the story, which was not a small deviation from my expectations. After all, the idea of ​​"Being Johannovich" really sucks. If everyone is the chief director of their own life, just like the sentence in Han Han's film: After listening to a lot of great truths, I still can't live my life well. Even if it is so good, there will always be some people who will make this movie a bad movie for various reasons. ,Is not it? Watching bad movies is definitely torture. Such a shity life is also a kind of torture. So you come up with different plots and false hopes, but you can't choose the perfect time to bring your girlfriend home in your fantasy, which is very tragic. So you think about ending it all. Someone has to be a pig covered in maggots, right?

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Extended Reading
  • Angela 2022-01-05 08:01:59

    Maybe pretty people suffer too, I don't know

  • Kayley 2022-03-25 09:01:14

    Reciting the poem "Bone Dog" and returning home in despair, the rabies virus damages nerve endings only for its own reproduction, just as a bad movie needs to take root in the audience's brain, so the name of Jimmy, who keeps throwing hair, is engraved on the ashes of the bookshelf ;Follow the Queen of Ice Cream Town to dream of singing and dancing life in a soap opera-like teaching building, and finally live as a pig with maggots in the cruel farm; You are the reason for my existence, but you do not exist, just like there is no objective color in the universe, It's just a physiological response to the human brain triggered by electromagnetic waves... Extremely sad, lonely to death, Charlie Kaufman did it again

I'm Thinking of Ending Things quotes

  • Young Woman: [about his onset dementia] I'm sorry that y-you're...

    Father: That's okay. Truth is, I'm looking forward to when it gets very bad and I don't have to remember that I can't remember!

  • Young Woman: Coming home is terrible whether the dogs lick your face or not; whether you have a wife or just a wife-shaped loneliness waiting for you. Coming home is terribly lonely, so that you think of the oppressive barometric pressure back where you have just come from with fondness, because everything's worse once you're home. You think of the vermin clinging to the grass stalks, long hours on the road, roadside assistance and ice creams, and the peculiar shapes of certain clouds and silences with longing because you did not want to return. Coming home is just awful. And the home-style silences and clouds contribute to nothing but the general malaise. Clouds, such as they are, are in fact suspect, and made from a different material than those you left behind. You yourself were cut from a different cloudy cloth, returned, remaindered, ill-met by moonlight, unhappy to be back, slack in all the wrong spots, seamy suit of clothes dishrag-ratty, worn. You return home moon-landed, foreign; the Earth's gravitational pull an effort now redoubled, dragging your shoelaces loose and your shoulders etching deeper the stanza of worry on your forehead. You return home deepened, a parched well linked to tomorrow by a frail strand of... Anyway... You sigh into the onslaught of identical days. One might as well, at a time... Well... Anyway... You're back. The sun goes up and down like a tired whore, the weather immobile like a broken limb while you just keep getting older. Nothing moves but the shifting tides of salt in your body. Your vision blears. You carry your weather with you, the big blue whale, a skeletal darkness. You come back with X-ray vision. Your eyes have become a hunger. You come home with your mutant gifts to a house of bone. Everything you see now, all of it: bone.