It’s a bit like being in a sensory deprivation tank with Oscar Wilde, really.
I mean, let’s really get this unicorn horn on the table.
How about this: a new genre, right? Swords and Suburbia.
You’ve got so many ideas going on it’s like you’re playing a solo on the idea guitar!
“Eight-Tenths of the world’s population? Reduce your fractions, boy!”
“I think my main problem is I’m really bad at writing notes.”
“I totally felt it when the eagle ripped out of her and stuff but I think it could have been a little more visceral.”
“Let’s get away from questions like ‘what is Stephen holding in his hand.'”
“I found the ending of the world too hopeful.”
“With 28 seconds left I could talk about what I had for breakfast, but I’ll just pass.”
“Now we will be friends forever- in hell!”
“You can’t stay a man-child or you’ll end up like Russell…”
“Normally I’m like ‘eee’ but this time I was like ‘woo.'”
“I didn’t really connect with the story until blood was spilled.”
“I was really rooting for the climax, which was odd because I don’t usually support raising the dead.”
“The climax in the bedroom came too fast, and it wasn’t really satisfying. *pause* Oh, that wasn’t supposed to be a sex joke.”
“Is she into bath houses?”
‘There’s no plot here- so I’ll give it jazz hands!”
“I really thought you were going to look at me like a dog looking at a card trick.”
“I was running across the field there, and I saw this lump, and I thought ‘whatever that is, I bet I can jump it,’ and then this tail went right up in the air and I thought ‘skunk!'”
“Hello, my name’s ditto.”