“Literature is a vast forest and the masterpieces are the lakes, the towering trees or strange trees, the lovely eloquent flowers, the hidden caves, but a forest is also made up of ordinary trees, patches of grass, puddles, clinging vines, mushrooms and little wildflowers.”—Roberto Bolano (via darjeelingandcoke)
“Ending every sentence feels like a breakup to me, because the words have become so involved with each other and have tried out so many different positions on each other and have then eventually settled down into something so permanent and independent that I can feel the sentence physically breaking away from me, breaking off from me—dumping me altogether. My reaction is equal parts sadness, grief, and, I guess, a lust for revenge on behalf of the narrator. And it’s in this rocky state that I try to get another sentence started, maybe just a ‘fuck off’ lunge of a sentence, which I guess accounts for the lack of pillowy transitions in my fiction. There’s no cradling anywhere.”—Gary Lutz
“The King In Yellow is in there because it’s a story about a story, one that drives people to madness. Everything in True Detective is composed of questionable narratives, inner and outer, from Cohle’s view that identity is just a story we tell ourselves, to the stories about manhood that Hart tells about himself, to the not always truthful story they tell the detectives investigating them. So it made sense – to me, at least — to allude to an external narrative that that is supposed to create insanity, or as I prefer, deranged enlightenment. When I did that, a kind of secondary language began to form in the scripts, where the notion of cosmic horror became a very real part of the environment, at least for those who know Chambers’ work.”—Nic Pizzolatto talking about The King in Yellow and True Detective. (via wildlinging)
“Those who love life do not read. Nor do they go to the movies, actually. No matter what might be said, access to the artistic universe is more or less entirely the preserve of those who are a little fed up with the world.”—Michel Houellebecq (via mapandtheterritory)
In a very recent dream, I watched the final episode of ‘True Detective.’ It was beautiful and symbolic. It was sad. It was all the darkness promised. When the episode ended in my dream, I turned to my friend and revealed the meaning:
"It is meant to be symbolic. They all die. We all die. There are no real answers other than death."
“Alone, with a tremendous empty longing and dread. The whole room for my thoughts. Nothing but myself and what I think, what I fear. Could think the most fantastic thoughts, could dance, spit, grimace, curse, wail - nobody would ever know, nobody would ever hear. The thought of such absolute privacy is enough to drive me mad. It’s like a clean birth. Everything cut away. Separate, naked, alone. Bliss and agony simultaneously. Time on your hands. Each second weighing on you like a mountain. You drown in it. Deserts, seas, lakes, oceans. Nothingness. The world.”—Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer (via whenihavewingsto-fly)
“But where a lot of critics are missing the point is that this wasn’t revenge sex — not entirely. This wasn’t just to make her husband angry or even the score. Maggie’s motivations were entirely more complex and heartbreaking, and they seemed rather obvious, but perhaps because we’ve been conditioned to identify with male characters so strongly, it wasn’t as simple to understand as I thought. Maybe we’re so used to bad guys like Walter White and Don Draper that it’s just been easy to dismiss Maggie as another nagging wife, standing in the way of the flawed protagonist. But like White and Draper, Marty isn’t a protagonist — he’s an antagonist. He may be the hero of his own story, but he’s the villain to his wife and family, and just because the show is about Marty and Rust doesn’t mean that we aren’t allowed to empathize or identify with any other characters. Maggie had sex with Rust out of desperation — after 17 years of marriage to Marty Hart, she didn’t know if she had the strength to kick him out for good, not the father to her daughters, not the man who had been such a constant in her life. It’s hard to let go of something that’s been such a consistent presence for so long, even if it’s hurting you; sometimes especially if it’s hurting you. Maggie isn’t sure she knows how to live her life at this point without Marty in it, and she isn’t sure she has the courage to remove him from it on her own. She has to do something so unforgivable that he’ll have no choice but to leave her. And it’s horrific and painful to watch because Maggie has been painted into this corner by her own husband, a man who views women as little more than objects and possessions, as awards he’s entitled to for a job well done. It’s because of the way Marty treats her that she feels the only way to take agency for herself and her children is through her sexuality — the very sexuality that gave her husband that perfect family he works so hard to to keep in line. This isn’t a horrible portrayal of a woman. This isn’t bad writing — far from it. It’s just depressingly human.”—‘True Detective’ and Women: Does the Hit HBO Show Have a Problem With Female Characters? (via bidonica)