TONIGHT, Walter and I took the train into Boston, to an art house that was playing Pulp Fiction.
The John Travolta character’s guts were scattered in one scene. In the next, he’s back, grinning like a moron. Time and space were fractured in the film; that was the gimmick.
Everybody said this film was so cool, but I could hardly stomach it. Everything teenagers think is cool, sucks: violent movies, reality TV, YouTube, skinny girls, designer clothes, bottled water, iPods, TiVo, Wii, texting. Facebook sucks. Loud, drunken parties suck. Football sucks. All team sports. Dates suck, especially with someone who annoys you. Roger Willis sucks. Big time.
Sage is going out with that moron.
If I hadn’t taken Cassandra to the dance, then Sage would never have gone over to him in the first place.
Time and space. Blood and guts. One false move. That’s what they say in movies. You make one false move... and it’s over.