He wasn't, I realized when I read those scenes concerning Blair and myself, close to any of us-- except of course to Blair, and really not even to her. He was simply someone who floated through our lives and didn't seem to care how flatly he perceived everyone or that he'd shared our secret failures with the world, showcasing the youthful indifference, the gleaming nihilism, glamorizing the horror of it all. But there was no point in being angry with him.
Bret Easton EllisTags: writing jealousy fiction resentment
The real Julian Wells didn't die in a cherry-red convertible, overdosing on a highway in Joshua Tree while a choir soared over the sound track.
Bret Easton EllisTags: reality writing fiction consequences
The audience-- the book's actual cast-- quickly realized what had happened. The reason the movie dropped everything that made the novel real was because there was no way the parents who ran the studio would ever expose their children in the same black light the book did. The movie was begging for our sympathy whereas the book didn't give a shit. And attitudes about drugs and sex had shifted quickly from 1985 to 1987 (and a regime change at the studio didn't help) so the source material-- surprisingly conservative despite its surface immorality-- had to be reshaped.
Bret Easton EllisThe book was blunt and had an honesty about it, whereas the movie was just a beautiful lie.
Bret Easton EllisTags: writing fiction adaptations
The days I’d passed with my mom before she died were still there, it seemed, seared into the corners of my heart.
The atmosphere of the station brought it all back. I could see myself running to the hospital, glad to be seeing my mother again. You never know you’re happy until later. Because physical sensations like smells and exhaustion don’t figure into our memories, I guess. Only the good bits bob up into view.
I was always startled by the snatches of memory that I saw as happy, how they came.
This time, it was the feeling I got when I stepped out onto the platform. The sense of what it had been like to be on my way to see my mom, for her still to be alive, if only for the time being, if only for that day. The happiness of that knowledge had come back to life inside me.
And the loneliness of that moment. The helplessness.
Tags: relationships fiction
all we see today in name of love it not that lust is sold in name of love
RohitTags: fiction
All the real secrets are buried, and only ghosts speak the truth.
Anthony HydeTags: romance fiction mystery-suspense
No,” I said. “I can’t remember doing this.”
“Oh,” Rena made and gestured dramatically. “You don’t remember it. And that automatically means you didn’t do it?
Tags: family fantasy fiction mystery paranormal young-adult frindship
When reading dies, the imagination soon follows.
Ronnie Ray JenkinsTags: romance fiction mystery suspense women-s-fiction
I never look at a painting and ask, "Is this painting fictional or non-fictional?" It's just a painting.
Scott McClanahanTags: art fiction paintings nonfiction fictional
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