You don't know what you're asking me. Trust me, you can't possibly guess. You may think you want all of the truth, but it's going to be too much. Look... I have school tomorrow. I'm out early on Friday for career day. All I'm asking is that you really think hard about it, okay? I'll be at the statue by the duck pond at 4:30 Friday afternoon. If you still want to know, I'll tell you then. If you decide not to come, so be it. This is big, Aunt May -- as big as anything you ever heard and then some. I'll be as honest as you need me to be, I promise.... but you've got to be one hundred percent sure you want to know.
- Paul Jenkins (though if it'd been Joe Kelly, that would have been perfect), "And Here, My Troubles Begin..."
"Gunslingers and the Women Who Shoot Them"
I swear to God, I've felt like a washed up wild west hero for the last day or two. It's like I hung up my guns when desperadoes killed my family, taking with them all my hopes and dreams and now I'm just living in a little farmhouse in New Mexico with my trusty Navajo sidekick Brento, trying to put my bloody, sordid past behind me, but I've got old rivals and every punk kid out to make a name for himself stepping up to call me out. Cut this old broke down cowpoke a break. I'm a man of peace. I'm through killing.
"Daisy"
My first car was a powder blue 1988 Nissan Sentra just like the one Joey Lauren Adams hits in the parking lot after the hockey arena scene in Chasing Amy. I named it "Stupid Jap Bitch," because it was a reference to my second favorite scene in David Gusterson's Snow Falling on Cedars and because I'm the type of geek who just has to name his car.
One marvelous spring afternoon in the twilight of my junior year at good ol' O'Hara High, I went out to the parking lot and found that someone had left a daisy on my windshield. To this day, I consider this the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, and this is what I think about when I think about Danielle Schwartz.
I've never really told the story of how I found her, and I'm not certain I ever will. What's really important anyway is the story of how I lost her, but I don't really feel like telling that one either. It's a story that includes my first trip to Columbia, the first of my great fake marriages, WPA, the words I wrote and the tears she shed because of them, the rise and fall of prommunism, and a crushed crispito Brent still laments. It's all really better left unsaid...
I guess all I do want to say is that there are some people who always reflect upon The One That Got Away, using them as the basis of comparison for every other love that comes along. I can't do that with Danielle, because I realize both that I didn't really treat her very well, and that in the long run, we really just weren't meant for each other. So, I don't consider what I had with her the Great Love I Want to Recapture, but the Great Sin for Which I Must Redeem Myself.
I don't think I'm doing so hot so far.
I hate every single day.
- Paul Jenkins (though if it'd been Joe Kelly, that would have been perfect), "And Here, My Troubles Begin..."
"Gunslingers and the Women Who Shoot Them"
I swear to God, I've felt like a washed up wild west hero for the last day or two. It's like I hung up my guns when desperadoes killed my family, taking with them all my hopes and dreams and now I'm just living in a little farmhouse in New Mexico with my trusty Navajo sidekick Brento, trying to put my bloody, sordid past behind me, but I've got old rivals and every punk kid out to make a name for himself stepping up to call me out. Cut this old broke down cowpoke a break. I'm a man of peace. I'm through killing.
"Daisy"
My first car was a powder blue 1988 Nissan Sentra just like the one Joey Lauren Adams hits in the parking lot after the hockey arena scene in Chasing Amy. I named it "Stupid Jap Bitch," because it was a reference to my second favorite scene in David Gusterson's Snow Falling on Cedars and because I'm the type of geek who just has to name his car.
One marvelous spring afternoon in the twilight of my junior year at good ol' O'Hara High, I went out to the parking lot and found that someone had left a daisy on my windshield. To this day, I consider this the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, and this is what I think about when I think about Danielle Schwartz.
I've never really told the story of how I found her, and I'm not certain I ever will. What's really important anyway is the story of how I lost her, but I don't really feel like telling that one either. It's a story that includes my first trip to Columbia, the first of my great fake marriages, WPA, the words I wrote and the tears she shed because of them, the rise and fall of prommunism, and a crushed crispito Brent still laments. It's all really better left unsaid...
I guess all I do want to say is that there are some people who always reflect upon The One That Got Away, using them as the basis of comparison for every other love that comes along. I can't do that with Danielle, because I realize both that I didn't really treat her very well, and that in the long run, we really just weren't meant for each other. So, I don't consider what I had with her the Great Love I Want to Recapture, but the Great Sin for Which I Must Redeem Myself.
I don't think I'm doing so hot so far.
I hate every single day.
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