Three pullquotes on a banner ad for Drive–all of them from Peter Travers. That must mean it’s a good movie, because Peter Travers is in no way a ridiculous joke of a man. But I guess we knew it was a good movie already, right? The title has like, double meanings and stuff.
My favorite thing about this pathetic ad: Travers’ star rating is in quotation marks. He literally uttered the sound of stars. Peter, thou art Lord.
What is the proper course of action when it comes to dreams? Not even dreams, really, but self-realization? If you want to be a given thing, should you work toward that end tirelessly and always assume that tireless devotion will get you there? Or should you “man up” and take a job scooping dirt out of holes, telling yourself it’s only temporary, and try in your few, dejected, quasi-dirt-stain-free hours to better yourself?
As painful as the starvation and misery which come with the former scenario will be–as hard as it will be to look people who ask you “why don’t you just go scoop dirt and make an admittedly meager living, and eat ramen instead of nothing?”–the only course of action, if you’re who you say you are, is to starve and to strive. Maybe a few people have fought upward from dirt-scooping, but operating a dirt-scooping company is no one’s dream.
There are two possible outcomes in any given life: living a dream, and living a nightmare. Don’t mistake living a comfortable nightmare for being a better outcome than living a painful nightmare. Nightmares have no qualitative gradients. Nightmares are nightmares.
Fighting for a dream will probably lead you to a nightmare, but there’s no way to get to a dream without fighting for every little scrap of dream-like experience.
This is something Ginger Carden and I talked about in our podcast, but it’s a thought that keeps on nagging me: we are all about to get massive, burstingly purple goiters. How? This fascination with sea salt. Look, I’m as into fancy gourmand salt as the next foodie, but do you really want a balloon for a throat? Morton Salt Company began iodizing their salt in 1924, and practically no one has had a goiter since. But no, screw that, we’d rather look like we’ve swallowed a tire (warning: not a particularly fun photograph).
Sometimes processed foods are OK, dammit.