Grave Of The Fireflies (1988)

the concept of how sir arthur conan doyle was as a person always sends me into fits. imagine making the most famous literary character of all time but you hate the character so much you try to kill him off. but everyone is so horny for this asshole detective they make you bring him back. even your own mother gets mad when he’s dead because she likes him. raising your prices to ridiculous rates to avoid writing holmes stories backfired and now you’re rich. it’s absolutely a pain because it’s keeping you from your true passion which is spiritualism despite how one of your good friends harry houdini keeps telling you it’s bullshit. you consider your best novels to be historical ones but they’re well over shadowed by the nemesis of your own creation sherlock fucking holmes. some fake photographs from some kids convinced you faeries were real and you wrote a whole book about it. you started writing stories in medical school. and yes, also you are a doctor. after you’re dead, they erect a statue of sherlock holmes across the street from your birthplace, causing you to probably roll over one hundred eighty degrees in your grave and scream into your casket pillow.

wish I was a bird of paradise. simply eating fruits and evolving to be more and more absurd and ostentatious

Thank you, Mr. Dalton, you just illustrated the point.

Wise words

“I am really moved and motivated by things that occur that are unjust. I’ve always hated people trampling on other people. I was in quandary, a philosophical quandary, because I tought, if I’m not my brother’s keeper, who am I? Where does my life end and my sense of responsibility for other lives begin?”  Listen to Me Marlon (2015) dir. Stevan Riley

You are probably going to be a very successful computer person. But you’re going to go through life thinking that girls don’t like you because you’re a nerd. And I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that that won’t be true. It’ll be because you’re an asshole. 

The Social Network (2010) dir. David Fincher

SHE DID THAT!!

“We have a dance in the brothels of Buenos Aires. It tells the story of the prostitute and a man who falls in love with her. First, there is desire. Then, passion. Then, suspicion. Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal. When love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there can be no love. Jealousy, yes, jealousy will drive you mad.”

Beach, sunset and pizzas!

My perfect date 💖