Good day, good night, and whatever.

Marcelina 2022-11-13 08:00:50

It's like at the end of Serious Men, where Michael Stuhlbarg looks at a tornado that suddenly hits his eyes on the day of his son's rabbinical rite of passage. He was about to usher in the rebellion of adolescence, and what he saw was the irreversible anxiety of menopause. The absurd blood is warm in "Frozen", with black humor, in an era that is not dark at all (perhaps because we are deep in the dark), it is eloquently spoken. Like a neurotic storyteller who does not admit that he is a drunkard, he is carrying a bottle of mojito with "brandy" sticking on it, the spectacle lens hanging on his chest is broken, and his index finger comes out of the hole in the glove. Reaching out and scratching his red-frozen nose, he hummed some sort of Scottish ballad, of course, with a strong Göttingen accent. He scolded the ridiculous and useless of this era (with a pity that it has nothing to do with him), in an era where even prostitutes are sitting on the ground and raising prices, do you still expect adolescent children to develop well? (to Natasha) I said, who said no? The guy sitting next to me eating sandwiches that day politely said goodbye to me, went out and shot Archduke Ferdinand with a gun. "gott! oh gott!" He took a sip of wine excitedly and squeezed my shoulder with his right hand missing four fingers. "Dude, this round is mine! Serbia will never give in!" Then he spoke righteously. He asked Natasha for two cigarettes and lit them for himself. I watched the God-sent snowflakes stop at the muzzle of the gun and turned into a cloud of gray smoke, and there was something warm, like the night we warmed around Uncle Helf's fireplace, listening to him read "White Nights" , or any book by Dostoevsky. Why do people need festivals? In addition to commemorating the coming of Jesus, perhaps, to prevent life from becoming an endless plague that kills time. It is said that we have surrounded Moscow, and if it goes well, let's go to Uncle Helf's for Christmas together! Call Manuel, Pierrot, and Aunt Liz's cat. Thinking of you, I masturbate again, thinking of you, Merry Christmas (just in case).

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Extended Reading

The Law of Vacant Places quotes

  • Ray Stussy: Hey! Dickhead!

    Maurice LeFay: Huh?

    Ray Stussy: I gotta place, turns out a place that needs some robbing. A little robbing, not wholesale burglary, just a specific... Just looking for a certain item. And if you do it... well let's just say... your little problem goes up in smoke.

    Maurice LeFay: What are we talking about?

    Ray Stussy: A stamp.

    Maurice LeFay: A stamp?... Like a... postage stamp?

    Ray Stussy: Yeah.

    Maurice LeFay: Cool... Cool... So I mean, I know I'm the moron but...

    Ray Stussy: It's not that kind of stamp numb nuts... It's a vintage stamp, it's got you know... sentimental value for me... It's my stamp.

    Maurice LeFay: Your stamp.

    Ray Stussy: But it's, you know, at someone else's house temporarily.

    Maurice LeFay: Cool, cool... So why not just ask for it back?

    Ray Stussy: Well it's, you know, complicated... Just get the damn stamp.

  • Maurice LeFay: You ever think about how they never put the morgue on the top floor of a hospital?... I notice stuff like that... It's always in the basement. It's like its own elevator.

    Therapist: And... how does that make you feel?

    Maurice LeFay: Huh? No... You asked me how I define the person called me... And I'm saying, I'm always having thoughts of... What do ya?... Insightful. For example, where does the President of United States buy his clothes? Do they shut down like a whole JC Penney? Just so he can try on a suit.

    Therapist: There's a tailor, he comes to the White House.

    Maurice LeFay: Now see, I didn't know that.

    Therapist: Let's focus... So when you say your parole officer was mean to you before, how did that make you feel?

    Maurice LeFay: You know, just not good, you know... I mean here I am, I'm trying, you know. Not hurting anybody, anymore. So...

    [coughs]

    Therapist: Are you getting high?

    Maurice LeFay: [coughing] No...

    [the paper with address flows off the car]

    Maurice LeFay: Oh shit.