I learned that you really don’t have any control as a writer. Waah, waah, waah. Big deal. Unless you’re the director on the movie, or putting up the money for the movie, you really don’t have a lot of control.
BRET EASTON ELLISOpen the hood of a car and it will tell you something about the people who designed it, is just one of many phrases I’m tortured by.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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Look how black the sky is, the writer said. I made it that way.
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I totally relate to Tom Cruise. He’s not crazy, it’s just the litany of the mid-life crisis.
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What else is there to do in college except drink beer or slit one’s wrists?
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Everyone I know who is successful has issues with their father, regardless of whether it was sports or business or entertainment.
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I tried to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task and instead I spend the afternoon smearing her meat all over the walls, chewing on strips of skin I ripped from her body
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So what do I do? Toss a handful of change into the tank when none of the zookeepers are watching. It’s not the seals I hate——it’s the audience’s enjoyment of them that bothers me.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
Yes. Yes I am. I am a completely demented misogynist.
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I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.
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She sits before me, sullen but hopeful, characterless, about to dissolve into tears. I squeeze her hand back, moved, no, touched by her ignorance of evil. She has one more test to pass. Do you own a briefcase?” I ask her, swallowing.
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But this road doesn’t go anywhere,” I told him. “That doesn’t matter.” “What does?” I asked, after a little while. “Just that we’re on it, dude,” he said.
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But this was what happened when you didn’t want to visit and confront the past: the past starts visiting and confronting you.
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My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.
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And it struck me then, that I liked Sean because he looked, well, slutty. A boy who had been around. A boy who couldn’t remember if he was Catholic or not.
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That’s how I became the damaged party boy who wandered through the wreckage, blood streaming from his nose, asking questions that never required answers.
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I don’t want to care. If I care about things, it’ll just be worse, it’ll just be another thing to worry about. It’s less painful if I don’t care.
BRET EASTON ELLIS