Here's why:
1. Morgan Freeman. BEAT THAT!
2. I'm a selfish being. I get my wisdom teeth pulled the day before HP7.5 comes out. I can't go to any midnight parties/midnight premier. )=<
3. Bane is a badass.
4. Batman Begins and Dark Knight were both spectacular movies. Nolan won't disappoint.
5. Cast of DKR is incredible.
6. Nolan+All Star Cast will blow any HP movie out of the water
7. Most movies made from books have been worse, HP is no exception.
8. HP7 (the book) was relatively crappy compared to the rest of it. (Deathly Hollows felt like BS to me >_>.)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Quotes
From This Side of Paradise, running around in my brain.
" 'Watch my face, gentlemen, for the primitive emotions.'
He tore it open and held the slip up to the light.
'Well?'
'Pink or blue?'...
'Blue as the sky, gentlemen...' "
"If his reaction to his environment could be tabulated, the chart would have appeared like this, beginning with his earliest years:
1. The fundamental Amory
2. Amory plus Beatrice.
3. Amory plus Beatrice plus Minneapolis.
Then St Regis's had pulled him to pieces and started him over again:
4. Amory plus St Regis's
5. Amory plus St Regis's plus Princeton
That had been his nearest approach to success through conformity. The fundamental Amory, idle, imaginative, rebellious, had been nearly snowed under. He had conformed, he had succeeded, but as his imagination was neither satisfied nor grasped by his own success, he had listlessly, half-accidentally chucked the whole thing and become again:
6. The fundamental Amory. "
" ' I'm a romantic; a sentimental person thinks things will last, a romantic person hopes against hope that they won't."
"He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky.
'I know myself,' he cried, 'but that is all.' "
Man that was a good book. Props, Fitzgerald, props.
" 'Watch my face, gentlemen, for the primitive emotions.'
He tore it open and held the slip up to the light.
'Well?'
'Pink or blue?'...
'Blue as the sky, gentlemen...' "
"If his reaction to his environment could be tabulated, the chart would have appeared like this, beginning with his earliest years:
1. The fundamental Amory
2. Amory plus Beatrice.
3. Amory plus Beatrice plus Minneapolis.
Then St Regis's had pulled him to pieces and started him over again:
4. Amory plus St Regis's
5. Amory plus St Regis's plus Princeton
That had been his nearest approach to success through conformity. The fundamental Amory, idle, imaginative, rebellious, had been nearly snowed under. He had conformed, he had succeeded, but as his imagination was neither satisfied nor grasped by his own success, he had listlessly, half-accidentally chucked the whole thing and become again:
6. The fundamental Amory. "
" ' I'm a romantic; a sentimental person thinks things will last, a romantic person hopes against hope that they won't."
"He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky.
'I know myself,' he cried, 'but that is all.' "
Man that was a good book. Props, Fitzgerald, props.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Jungle Book
It came out of the woods. I saw him and opened my arms. I walked forward assuredly.
We were siblings (because I'm not a sexist.)
We go foraging for huckleberries. We might even find a Finn. Their tangy sweetness pervades through our mouth, palpitating our tastebuds. I wince. He laughs.
He beckons me forward (screw political correctness.) I follow on twos. Water glistens below the orange sky. It bends; it curves; it meanders. It drives forward, and clashing against the rock, creates white ripples amidst the flow.
He walks right in. We're carnivores now. A smack! A splash! Out flies a trout.
He teaches. I fail. His patience holds until the technique passes to me. I've learned to fish.
We lie on the ground staring into the starry sky. There's Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. He roars.
One, two, three, four... one thousand, one thousand and one, one thousand...
The sun rises and blinds my eyes. I shake his paw, and we say our goodbyes. I head back into the jungle.
We were siblings (because I'm not a sexist.)
We go foraging for huckleberries. We might even find a Finn. Their tangy sweetness pervades through our mouth, palpitating our tastebuds. I wince. He laughs.
He beckons me forward (screw political correctness.) I follow on twos. Water glistens below the orange sky. It bends; it curves; it meanders. It drives forward, and clashing against the rock, creates white ripples amidst the flow.
He walks right in. We're carnivores now. A smack! A splash! Out flies a trout.
He teaches. I fail. His patience holds until the technique passes to me. I've learned to fish.
We lie on the ground staring into the starry sky. There's Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. He roars.
One, two, three, four... one thousand, one thousand and one, one thousand...
The sun rises and blinds my eyes. I shake his paw, and we say our goodbyes. I head back into the jungle.
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