Karishma > Recent Status Updates

Such a beautiful story!

“I never wanted to be a doctor,” Tooms said. His voice was soft,
emanating compassion and care.
“I never wanted to rob a bank,” Patch said. “Actually, that might be
a lie.”

That’s right, kid. You see a body, you find out who and how. The why
don’t mean shit when all is said and done. Not in the eyes of the law

“Who was the dame?”
Marty laughed. “I guess maybe someone all wrong for me in the ways
that counted least. We fell in love and it was like…you know when all of a
sudden there’s meaning. Actual true meaning and purpose.”
“Like color in the dark,” Patch said.
“Yes. Exactly yes. Nothing is so dark with them in the world.”

“I want to be left alone. I don’t want to
talk when people ask me to talk. Or paint. Or share goddamn feelings I
don’t even have. I don’t want my ass grabbed. If I want to rage, I’ll rage.”
Saint stood. “This weekend I’ll show you how to disengage a testicle.”

The prison was the third oldest in the country, and its years could be
counted in the fractures of bare stone walls and intermittent electrics, in
dust that coughed through vents and the run of slave trade blood spilled a
hundred and fifty years before.

Jimmy really needed to die

“How many more?”
At that Himes finally stopped eating. “One is too many.”

“There’s women in town that want to date you,” she said.
“The idea of me, maybe. The real me, well he lost his heart thirty years
ago.”
She smiled. “What happened?”
“What always happens. One of you leaves the other one alone.”

Most of all she wanted to tell him that she was scared. She was a
cop who had done so many brave things. But she was scared.

She wanted to tell him that Jimmy said there wasn’t room for her piano.
That sometimes she fixed his dinner and he forgot to thank her. That he was
not silly in any of the good ways. She wanted to tell Patch that Jimmy did
not like her being a cop. That he wanted to have children right away, and
that when they did he expected her to step out of her life and into a
mother’s.

When the rich have a problem they throw
money at it to make it go away.

His mother had knocked on the door with
oatmeal cookies. He was the kind of boy who would become the kind of
man that needed tending.

Until then it had been a game. A redistribution of wealth to where it was
needed most.

Nothing about them fit. Nothing about them worked.
She loved him entirely and absolutely.

“You want me to do something with this braid?”
“Yes. Leave it the fuck alone.”
“This is why I don’t work with the living.”

I’m guessing you also know she skipped school the other afternoon.
She’s all heart. Makes it easier for her to get it broken,

Only when the dark was total enough did he lie down.
And reach out his hand for her to take.

When you make it out of
here no one will know how you lost everything, how you stared at an
ending they can’t comprehend. It’ll give you power. It’ll make them wish they never fucked with you.

Saint knew there was not
always an exact moment when children turned to adults. For the lucky ones
it was a long, hard-earned acceptance of responsibility and opportunity. But
for her, and for Misty, the divide had been curt and fatal.

She’d fixed eggs, and he wondered just how tough it was to be a parent,
and if at times all poor kids were some kind of well-intentioned regret.

Not quite so shocking......not so rememberable story. I liked WE USED TO LIVE HERE more.

Choice being real and an illusion at the same
time is a horror. It’s all a wonderful, sublime horror.

People can’t help but want their fiction and its players to be real, and they want
their reality to follow the comforting rules and beats of fiction.

It was hard
not to feel a bit like a fraud, given no one ever saw the movie, but at the same time,
the movie existed.

We talked about how the teens do it because they can and because
they’re inexplicably driven to do it and the viewers will be driven to ask why why
why and not have a clear, easy answer. That’s what’s scary, that’s why I want to
make this movie.