I'd like to see that schema laid out in an Edward Tufte-style infograph. What would consider to be the sense of humor directly opposite mine?

Oh, it's as aggressive a humble-brag as they come. But I can't think of any other strategy at the moment.

You make a fair point, although I've recently been pondering turning to a fruitful career of stealing, which may obviate all this.

I don't quite know; that's why I have a complete Godard watch-through scheduled. For what it's worth, the label of didacticism doesn't get slapped on Weekend as often as it does his work from the seventies.

The long and short of it: because I expected to reach 10,000 subscribers years ago. At the current rate of growth, I'll die of liver spots before I can make a sustainable career out of this.

Shamefully not. My New Yorker-reading sticks mostly to Alex Ross, Anthony Lane, and James Wood. But I now have my work cut out for me for my afternoon at the day job.

Same thing, right?

Fuck, you missed the clown show? And here I thought you were so culturally savvy.

zomg

Yeah, this is the question that makes my brain fold in on itself. I hold a tentative position, though, of doubting the usefulness/truthfulness of concepts like "who you really are". I've come to suspect that nobody "really" is anything.

You had enough money to buy a FIRST humble dwelling? Oh man...

So don't hold out on us; how'd you get the ridiculous money?

Exactly! That's my whole driving force with this post; I want to appreciate it all. The problems just come when I sit down and actually watch the neglected half of "it all." Blockbusters may indeed wield great technical prowess and its raw cinematic power, but damned if I can get over the stumbling block of why the exist. Not just in an intellectual sense -- "to make money," etc. -- but, y'know, the deeper "why" of their existence.

... and I really, REALLY don't want to work for Google.

Yeah, but I said Bret Easton Ellis, not that specific book.

Reels. 1920s-era sex reels.

So far I've foregone the niceties of a house, a family, a car, or a garbage disposal. Maybe I'm still screwing myself over by eating foods other than rice.

Academic bureaucracy, so it's kind of always casual day. But the waves of nihilism hit with the same force.

Logged five years in one so far. Pretty much dead inside by now.

Don't worry; in addition to my approval of James Franco, I maintain a limitless store of anger about James Franco. Because James Franco is... the kind of issue... you get... angry about?

I found only the printer-friendly version displayed in full, but yeah, thanks for passing that along -- the piece and three follow-ups make for a fascinating exchange. And if we could somehow install a hall of mirrors inside the rabbit hole, maybe we'd approach the metaphor we need?

Your thoughts? (Been a while since I've seen either.)

Oh man, I don't even know what that is. But it sounds cool already.

Luckily, I excised my questionable claim about these racers not being enormous dicks just before posting.

Hey, "mostly accurate" is more than I ever would have hoped for!