“Sell your expertise and you have a limited repertoire. Sell your ignorance and you have an unlimited repertoire. He was selling his ignorance and his desire to learn about a subject. The journey of not knowing to knowing was his work.”—
Yes! Chills, it gives me chills. I never managed to get my own copy, so I’m soooo excited that all four songs are going to be on the Libertine re-release. It’s killing me that the ship date keeps slipping.
“It’s like a mumblecore movie about a bunch of Sarah Lawrence philosophy majors, made by coked-up rich people for 100 bajillion dollars.”—Andrew O’Hehir, in an absolutely blistering must-read review of The Counselor. Kudos, sir. Kudos.
First, the date’s face begins to warp, becoming lumpily misshapen. Next, you sit, hyperventilating, watching him watch his outstretched hands as his fingernails elongate into claws. At this stage the date may convulse. Finally, the buttons of his shirt pop off as his spine and ribcage blossom upwards and outwards. Bones crunch, hair sprouts, letterman jacket splits. Maybe, between uncontrollable snarls, he gets a chance to croak, “Run!” You probably shouldn’t bother. You’ve hung around far too long already and anyway, you’re in a 1980s werewolf movie: this is a dinner date and only one of you is eating.