I’ve been writing this over the past week because it’s the last time that it makes sense to write it. At the time this review is published, I’ll be a few hours away from leaving for college, meaning it’s the last time I’ll be watching Clueless before I leave. I certainly hope I’ll be able to keep up these watches(and the one-movie-a-day I’ve been keeping up since 7/12/20), but I don’t know what the future holds, and radical change constitutes,…
The story of my life has always been a story of movies. As far back as I can remember I’ve been watching them, to the degree that many of my earliest memories involve movies. My first obsession came from even before that, though — when I was just 2 and a half years old, I begged my family to take me to Cars at least once a week. I’ve been told I saw Cars over a dozen times during its…
TW//self-harm, attempted suicide
There's a group of four scars on my right leg. I've cut myself all over my body, but those four are the deepest, and those are the ones that aren't leaving.
I think it was in seventh grade I realized something was wrong. There was a feeling that everything was falling apart even though nothing was. It was always lurking in the back of my mind, but that year it lept out at me and suddenly everything…
A chimpanzee, covered in blood, stands over a body as the last few breaths pass through its lips. There’s another body(or two or three) off to the side but they don’t matter; what matters is a shoe a few feet away, defying gravity and standing on its toe without support. The bodies are soon dragged away and forgotten—they don’t matter and they never did—but the shoe sticks. The shoe is an image: something impossible in the midst of brutality, so it becomes a story to tell. The specifics don’t matter, the suffering doesn’t matter, and the lives don’t matter. Everything fades, but the image remains.