Boy meets girl.

This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Tom Hansen of Margate, New Jersey, grew up believing that he'd never truly be happy until the day he met the one. This belief stemmed from early exposure to sad British pop music and a total mis-reading of the movie 'The Graduate'. The girl, Summer Finn of Shinnecock, Michigan, did not share this belief. Since the disintegration of her parent's marriage she'd only love two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and not feel a thing. Tom meets Summer on January 8th. He knows almost immediately she is who he has been searching for. This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story.

(500) Days of Summer (2009), Mark Webb.

Toast.

Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the 'good life,' whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.

Hunter S. Thompson.

The end of missing.

I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.

Jonathan Safran Foer.

 

What the hell happened to all of them.

In a way, it was sort of depressing, too, because you kept wondering what the hell would happen to all of them. When they got out of school and college, I mean. You figured most of them would probably marry dopey guys. Guys that always talk about how many miles they get to a gallon in their goddamn cars. Guys that get sore and childish as hell if you beat them at golf, or even just some stupid game like ping-pong. Guys that are very mean. Guys that never read books. Guys that are very boring.

Catcher in the Rye, J. D. Salinger.

The day the world declared in one voice.

In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. "Mankind." That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom... Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!

Independence day (1996), Roland Emmerich.

I'll talk.

OK! I'll talk! In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog... When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out... But the worst thing I ever done - I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.

The Goonies (1985), Richard Donner.

Our time.

Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket.

The Goonies (1985), Richard Donner.

Tranquility.

I'm waiting for the night to fall, when everything is bearable, and there in the still all that you feel is tranquillity. There is a star in the sky guiding my way with its light. And in the glow of the moon, know my deliverance will come soon.

Waiting for the night, Martin Gore, Depeche Mode.

At your will.

In your room, where time stands still, or moves at your will.
Will you let the morning come soon or will you leave me lying here, in your favourite darkness.

In your room, Martin Gore, Depeche Mode.


























Sencillo. Martin Gore es junto a Robert Smith, el mejor songwriter del mundo.

Juventud.

Toda mi vida es el ayer que me detiene en el pasado, eterna y vieja juventud que me ha dejado acobardado como un pájaro sin luz.

Naranjo en flor, Homero Expósito.

Lived.

With every awkward strum, despite his approaching demise, Harold felt a little more at peace. Harold no longer ate alone. He no longer counted brushstrokes. He no longer worried about the time it took to put on his tie. He no longer counted his steps to the bus stop. Instead, Harold did that which had terrified him before. That which had eluded him from Monday to Friday for so many years. That which the unrelenting lyrics of those numerous punk rock songs told him to do. Harold Crick lived his life.

Stranger than Fiction (2006), Marc Foster.

Donny.

Actually, Werner, we're all tickled to here you say that. Frankly, watchin' Donny beat Nazis to death is is the closest we ever get to goin' to the movies.

Inglourious Basterds (2009), Quentin Tarantino.

Debit.

When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps. And all y'all will git me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Nazis. Or you will die tryin'.

Inglourious Basterds (2009), Quentin Tarantino.

La pregunta sin respuesta.

Nena de la lluvia, siempre quedará en mi corazón la pregunta sin respuesta de qué sucedió, si vos azul y yo bordó.

Nena de la Lluvia, La Portuaria.

www.growse.com.ar

Some men.

Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.

The Dark Knight (2008), Christopher Nolan.

Still alive.

What's the matter with you guys? This was never about the money, this was about us against the system. That system that kills the human spirit. We stand for something. We are here to show those guys that are inching their way on the freeways in their metal coffins that the human sprit is still alive.

Point Break (1991), Kathryn Bigelow.

Plastic Toy.

Listen to the girl as she takes on half the world,
moving up and so alive in her honey dripping beehive.

I'll be your plastic toy.

Just Like Honey, The Jesus & Mary Chain.

Kids.

The most terrifying day of your life is the day the first one is born. Your life, as you know it ... is gone. Never to return. But they learn how to walk, and they learn how to talk ... and you want to be with them. And they turn out to be the most delightful people you will ever meet in your life.

Lost in Translation (2003), Sofia Coppola.

Five seconds.

What's incredible to me is that you can keep out of trouble pretty much every minute of your life apart from maybe five seconds, and that five seconds can get you into the worst trouble of all, just about.

Slam, Nick Hornby.

I'll kill ya.

If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything, I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now, do you understand everything I've said? 'Cause if you don't, I'll kill ya.

Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998), Guy Ritchie.

Job.

My job consists of basically masking my contempt for the assholes in charge, and, at least once a day, retiring to the men's room so I can jerk off while I fantasize about a life that doesn't so closely resemble Hell.

American Beauty (1999), Sam Mendes.

Nightmare.

I was having this awful nightmare that I was 32. And then I woke up and I was 23. So relieved. And then I woke up for real, and I was 32.

Before Sunset (2007), Richard Linklater.

Absurd.

The concept is absurd. The idea that we can only be complete with another person is evil! Right?

Before Sunset (2007), Richard Linklater.

Is it?

Against our will.

We tend to fall in love the same way we get sick; without wanting to, without believing it, against our will & unable to defend ourselves. And then we loose love exactly the same way.

Older.

Young boys should never be sent to bed. They always wake up a day older.

Finding Neverland (2004), Marc Foster.

Sentido.

Pasamos nuestra vida intentando encontrarle algún sentido al mundo. Pero el mundo no tiene sentido. Somos nosotros los encargados de dárselo.

High School Girls.

That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age.

Dazed and Confused (1993), Richard Linklater.

Cool.

For well you know that is a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.

Paul McCartney, Hey Jude, The Beatles.

Words so sweet.

It’s like forgetting the words to your favorite song.
You can’t believe it, you were always singing along.
It was so easy and the words so sweet,
you can’t remember, you try to feel the beat.

Regina Spektor, Eet.


Un tema así, para escuchar en un lugar así, en un día así.

Thank you.

And I thank you for bringing me here.
For showing me home.
For singing these tears.
Finally I've found that I belong here.

Martin Gore, Home, Depeche Mode.

Stade de France, Paris, 27.06.06.

In the words of.

Chances like this do not come around every day. You've played hard in here, and I am proud of every last stinking one of you. Let's just give this everything we got.

We may fall on our faces,
but if we do, we will fall with dignity!
With a guitar in our hands and rock in our hearts!
And in the words of AC/DC:
"We roll tonight to the guitar bite,
and for those about to rock...
I salute you."

School of Rock (2003), Richard Linklater.

Even better.

And when I squinted the world seemed rose-tinted, and angels appeared to descend. To my surprise, with half-closed eyes, things looked even better than when they were open.

Martin Gore, Waiting for the night, Depeche Mode.



Stade de France, Paris, 27.06.09.

A real RocknRolla.

People ask the question... what's a RocknRolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, other the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a RocknRolla, oh, he's different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the fucking lot.

RocknRolla (2008), Guy Ritchie.

London.

Fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins... LONDON!

Snatch (2000), Guy Ritchie.

Next to me.

Come and open up your folding chair next to me.
My feet are buried in the sand and there's a breeze.
There’s a shadow, you can't see my eyes,
and the sea is just a wetter version of the skies.

Folding Chair, Far, Regina Spektor.

Stanley Kubrick.

So Steven Spielberg dies and goes to heaven and when he get to the gates he meets Gabriel who says, "It's great to meet you. God really loves your work, if there's anything you need come to meet me I'm your man". And Steven says, "Well, you know, I always wanted to meet Stanley Kubrick, do you think you could arrange that? And Gabriel looks at him and he says, "You know Steven, of all the things you could for why would you asked for that? You know Stanley doesn't take meetings. "Well, you said it it was anything I wanted." And Gabriel says, "I'm sorry, I can't do that". Later that day Gabriel is giving a guided tour around heaven when Steven sees this bearded guy wearing an army jacket, riding a bicycle and Steven says to Gabriel, "Oh my God, look over there, that's Stanley Kubrick, couldn't we just stop and say hello?" and Gabriel pulls Steven to the side and says, "That's not Stanley Kubrick, that's God, he just thinks he is Stanley Kubrick."

WhiteChapel Art Gallery Cafe.

Cry.

You got to cry without weeping. Talk without speaking. Scream without raising your voice.

Running to Stand Still, The Joshua Tree, U2.

 











Hoy, 16 horas, saliendo del Old Spitalfields Market camino a St. Paul.

Sin molestar a nadie.

Cuando comprendió el carácter definitivo de aquel abandono, el poeta reparó en unas tristezas nuevas, que no había experimentado nunca, ni siquiera ante la ausencia de sus novias más clásicas. Por un instante, sintió la tentación de escribirle o de llamarla por teléfono para revelarle un amor que nunca se había verbalizado. Pero no lo hizo. Largos años de sabiduría amorosa le decían que las personas que abandonan no desean oír declaraciones del abandonado. Se dispuso entonces a sufrir el silencio sin molestar a nadie con sus esperanzas.

Alejandro Dolina, Bar del Infierno, La Conversión de los Descreídos.

Salgamos.

Salgamos de una vez. Salgamos a buscar camorra, a defender causas nobles, a recobrar tiempos olvidados, a despilfarrar lo que hemos ahorrado, a luchar por amores imposibles. A que nos peguen, a que nos derroten, a que nos traicionen. Cualquier cosa es preferible a esa mediocridad eficiente, a esa miserable resignación que algunos llaman madurez.

Alejandro Dolina, El Fantasma, Instrucciones para buscar aventuras.

Para los hombres de verdad.

Dejo para el final el obvio resultado de haber bebido en las fuentes vulgares de la verdad: nunca seremos más jóvenes que hoy; jamás volveremos a ver a nuestros muertos; el tiempo no retrocede; el amor perfecto no existe; hay un verso que está siempre a punto de revelársenos y que no escribiremos nunca. Para los hombres de verdad, este no es el final de sus sueños, sino más bien el principio.

Alejandro Dolina, El Fantasma, Fuentes de la Juventud.

La injusticia.

Envejecer es, antes que nada, injusto. Y el hombre noble no se resigna jamás ante la injusticia. Varones eminentísimos han luchado contra el tiempo. El carácter inevitable de la derrota sólo desalienta a los cobardes.

Alejandro Dolina, El Fantasma, Fuentes de la Juventud.

Castigo.

Hay demonios que gobiernan el azar y que tienden terribles trampas a los jugadores, de modo que a veces ganar es perder y perder es ganar. Una noche de 1970, Ricardo Ventura, un petiso de Caseros, empezó a recibir poker de reyes mano tras mano. El hombre amontonaba fichas. Los otros jugadores empezaron a sospechar. Ventura recibió un cuarto, un quinto y un séptimo póquer. Lo mataron en el décimo y nunca se supo si guardaba reyes en su manga o si tenía esa noche una suerte desmesurada. En ambos casos su castigo es merecido. Hacer trampas no es más canallesco que ligar demasiado.

Alejandro Dolina, El Fantasma, Juego.

It would kill us.

Sometimes we love people so much that we have to be numb to it. Because if we actually felt how much we love them, it would kill us. That doesn't make you a bad person. It just means your heart's too big.

Riding in Cars with Boys (2001).

Sea-foam-green Fender.

And then Harold saw it. A damaged and terribly mistreated, sea-foam-green Fender, staring back at him. Despite its obvious maladies, the guitar spoke with conviction and swagger. In fact, it looked Harold directly in the eye and very plainly stated: I rock.

Stranger than Fiction (2006), Marc Foster.

Wishes.

So? Everyone wants stuff, we wake up every day with list of wishes and we spend our lives trying to make those wishes come true, but just because we want them doesn’t mean we need them to be happy.

Before you die.

The expression “Pie in the Sky” entered popular culture in 1911: it refers to a dessert so sweet that it can only be found in Heaven. If you’re craving something before you die, I recommend where The Pie Maker makes his pies. But if you’re like Chuck, you may enjoy the pie even after you die. Her sixty seconds came and went, she stayed alive; and instead, someone else had to die. He kept Chuck blissfully unaware of this fact: she was alive again – that was that.

Pushing Daisies. Season 1, Episode 2, Fun in the Funeral.

Holding hers, holding his.

As he stared at her, he reached around his back and held his own hand, pretending he was holding hers. And at that very moment, she was pretending to be holding his.

Pushing Daisies. Season 1, Episode 1, Pie-lette.

Young Ned.

At this very moment in the town of Couer d'Couers, young Ned was nine years, twenty-seven weeks, six days and three minutes old. His dog, Digby was three years, two weeks, six days, five hours, and nine minutes old... and not a minute older. This was the moment that young Ned discovered that he wasn’t like the other children: nor was he like anyone else, for that matter. Young Ned could touch dead things and bring them back to life. This gift was a gift given to him, but not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no instructions, no manufacturer’s warranty: it just was. The terms of use weren’t immediately clear, nor were they of immediate concern: young Ned was in love. Her name was Chuck. At this very moment, she was 8 years, 42 weeks, 3 hours and 2 minutes old. Young Ned’s random gift that was, came with a caveat or two. After one minute, the timer goes off. Ned looks out the window and sees Chuck’s father fall flat on his back, dead; his mother follows his line of sight and drops the pie in shock. It was a gift that not only gave – it took. Young Ned discovered that he could only bring the dead back to life for one minute without consequence; any longer, and someone else had to die. But there was one more thing about touching dead things that young Ned didn’t know … and he learned it in the most unfortunate way … as Ned settles into bed, his mother kisses his forehead, she drops to the ground, dead; Ned touches her to no avail. First touch: life. Second touch: dead again, forever.

Pushing Daisies. Season 1, Episode 1, Pie-lette.

The world is not enough for the both of us.

007; Britain's finest secret agent, licensed to kill. Mixing business with girls and thrills. I've seen you walk the screen, it's you that I adore. Since I was a boy I've wanted to be like Roger Moore. A girl in every port, and gadgets up my sleeve. The world is not enough for the both of us it seems. So I wish I was James Bond, just for the day.

I Wish I Was James Bond, Scouting for Girls.

The trick to life.

The trick to life is...

not to get too attached to it.


The Trick To Life, The Hoosiers, The Trick To Life.

Felicidad ordenada.

Como todas las personas que viven mimadas por los dioses sin ninguna razón, también sentía una especie de angustia en el fondo de tanta felicidad. Todo era demasiado hermoso, demasiado redondo, demasiado perfecto. Uno siempre teme tanta felicidad ordenada.
Porque los dioses son, como se sabe, envidiosos, y cuando dan un año de felicidad a un simple mortal, lo apuntan como una deuda, y al final de su vida se la reclaman, con intereses de usurero.

El último encuentro, Sándor Márai.

That's what I keep asking myself.

What have I got? Really? Some money in my pocket, some nice threads, fancy car at my disposal, and I'm single. Yeah... unattached, free as a bird... I don't depend on nobody and nobody depends on me... My life's my own. But I don't have peace of mind. And if you don't have that, you've got nothing. So... what's the answer? That's what I keep asking myself. What's it all about? You know what I mean?

Alfie (2004).

Compilation tape.

A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to hold the attention. Then you have to take it up a notch, but not blow your wad, so maybe cool it off a notch, and you can't put the same artist twice on the tape, except if some subtle point or lesson or theme involved, and even then not the two of them in a row, and you can't woo somebody with Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi" and then bash their head off with something like GBH's "City Baby Attacked by Rats," and... oh, there are a lot of rules.

High Fidelity, Nick Hornby.

Así.

En el fondo, no creo que haga falta ningún talento especial para que una persona se eleve del suelo y permanezca suspendida en el aire. Todos lo llevamos dentro -hombres, mujeres y niños-, y con suficientes esfuerzo y concentración, todo ser humano es capaz de duplicar las hazañas que yo realicé cuando era Walt el Niño Prodigio. Tienes que aprender a dejar de ser tu mismo. Ahí es donde empieza, y todo lo demás viene de ahí. Debes dejarte evaporar. Dejar que tus músculos se relajen, respirar hasta que sientes que tu alma sale de ti, y luego cerrar los ojos. Así es como se hace. El vacío dentro de tu cuerpo se vuelve más ligero que el aire que te rodea. Poco a poco, empiezas a pesar menos que nada. Cierras los ojos; extiendes los brazos; te dejas evaporar. Y luego, poco a poco, te elevas del suelo.
Así.

Mr. Vértigo, Paul Auster.

La necesidad.

Eso es lo que ocurre con la necesidad. Mientras te falta algo, lo ansías sin cesar. Si pudiera tener esto, te dices a ti mismo, todos mis problemas se resolverían. Pero una vez que lo consigues, una vez que te ponen en las manos el objeto de tus deseos, empieza a perder su encanto. Otras necesidades se afirman, otros deseos se hacen sentir, y poco a poco descubres que estás de nuevo en el punto de partida.

Mr. Vértigo, Paul Auster.