Peter dohan

“It won’t last forever,” said Wednesday. “Nothing does.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“Then since we mortal lovers are, Ask not how long our love will last; But while it does, let us take care Each minute be with pleasure past: Were it not madness to deny To live because we’re sure to die?”
― Paul Negri, Great Short Poems

“You will be turning thirty soon, Mr. Kawana, which means that, from now on, you will gradually enter that twilight portion of life—you will be getting older.”
― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

“Serious” film strikes me as absurd. It’s bowdlerized life. Filmic drama asks me to care about loves, losses, supposed triumphs—things that together amount to the chiseled dash connecting my birth to my death on my tombstone. To me, the modern horror film has more to do with first-world existence as it is lived today. In the modern horror film, we no longer come together to defeat an existential threat, gaining knowledge of and confidence in ourselves along the way. Altruism is not rewarded. Even the most self-sacrificing character will be killed off, often for laughs. One protagonist, if any, makes it out alive by becoming more brutal than the monster. He trades debasement for survival, which is short-lived—because of course the monster comes back, for the lucrative sequels. In horror, characters are stripped of everything they think they know and believe they are. Education and privilege mean nothing. Security is a delusion; today is the last day of the rest of your life. You, what makes you you, your blemishes and singular characteristics, will disappear in an instant. Stalking everything you do is death, and all that matters is how furiously you go out.”
― Kent Russell, I Am Sorry to Think I Have Raised a Timid Son