unrequited love for siblings is the saddest thing you could ever portray on its own but over the garden wall said what if the kid is like the sweetest most kindhearted five year old you could imagine and he loves his brooding wistful bitch of an older brother sooo so much and enough to offer up his life in exchange for his brothers when his older brother saw him this whole time as just an annoying step sibling at best and a nuisance at worst and you cant be too mad cause hes also a kid and then when he finally figures it all out it saves them both, the decision to leave lethargy and the rot of melancholy behind and take the love he already has as proof the world is worth it after all and aaa a a. aaaaaa. aaaaaaa. aaa. what a sweet story. what a lovely thing.
Image description: An undecorated block of text in a serif font. The text reads:
“I did things in my 30s that were ignored by the world, that could have been quickly labeled a failure. Here’s a classic example; in 1974 I did a movie called Phantom of the Paradise. Phantom of the Paradise, which was a huge flop in this country. There were only two cities in the world where it had any real success: Winnipeg, in Canada, and Paris, France. So, okay, let’s write it off as a failure. Maybe you could do that. But all of the sudden, I’m in Mexico, and a 16-year-old boy comes up to me at a concert with an album - a Phantom of the Paradise soundtrack- and asks me to sign it. I sign it. Evidently I was nice to him and we had a nice little conversation. I don’t remember the moment, I remember signing the album (I don’t know if I think I remember or if I actually remember). But this little 14 or 16, whatever old this guy was … Well I know who the guy is now because I’m writing a musical based on Pan’s Labyrinth; it’s Guillermo del Toro. The work that I’ve done with Daft Punk it’s totally re.lated to them seeing Phantom of the Paradise 20 times and deciding they’re going to reach out to this 70-year-old songwriter to get involved in an album called Random Access Memories. So, what is the lesson in that? The lesson for me is being very careful about what you label a failure in your life. Be careful about throwing something in the round file as garbage because you may find that it’s the headwaters of a relationship that you can’t even imagine it’s corning in your future.”
if parks and rec was still being made they’d do a bit where ron swanson has to wear a pronouns name tag and it’d just be “???/???” And it’d cut to a talking head of him going
“I’ve been a fool all this time. It’s bad enough the government knows my name, but now they want to know my gender? So I’m not letting them know my preferred pronouns. As far as I’m concerned, no one in this building should refer to me at all.”
I am once again pondering the fact that Marty McFly is just such a fantastic character. Like, especially when you look at other male protagonists in the 80s, they all follow a similar trend. A lot are uber cool and suave, with the added side effect of also being a jerk. Many are popular jocks or whatever. Big flirts. Edgy and troubled or sleazy, etc.
And Marty is sort of in his own category entirely. He’s cool, but he’s not? He skateboards and kills it on guitar but has 2 whole friends–his girlfriend and a disgraced scientist–and crippling self-doubt and can’t go a day without falling down or tripping over his own feet or nearly being killed by a car.
He’s polite. He’s respectful. Won’t let anyone mess with the people he loves and doesn’t let a moment pass by where he can thank somebody or apologize for a wrongdoing. (seriously, Marty has beautiful manners. Like, it is quite noticeable how often he says, “please,” “thank you,” “excuse me,” or “sorry”.)
His emotions are all SO BIG and he doesn’t hold back on them. He gets all animated when he’s excited and yells when he’s scared and cries when he’s sad and pulls his friend into big ol’ hugs.
He literally never knows what is going on. Marty exists in the constant state of confusion. Between asking Doc to “wait a minute” every other sentence and his ever-changing, scattered thoughts, Marty is just out there trying to survive. Just slow it down, alright? He’s a smart guy, but he’s also got elevator music playing in his head. Really really fast elevator music.
Time means nothing to him. His watch is broken. He’s racking up tardies like it’s nobody’s business. Stopping by the garage to look for Doc and play some guitar when he should be at school. He’s got to get out of that stupid suit RIGHT THIS INSTANT even though he’s got one shot at the lightning strike at the clock tower.
Marty just. Does things. There is zero impulse control. A synapse fires and Marty’s brain goes “!!!” and that’s that. Punch the bully who’s twice your size, buy that sports almanac, just Walk Away while Doc is talking to you. Buy that sweet leather jacket. Ignore ALL instructions you’re given! Marty, you need constant supervision and I love you for that.
He’s just. Marty is the most character. Look at him.
They really knocked it out of the park with this guy.
I haven't an idea as to proceed. Lyrical rhymes help compose my feed. I long to create, but fear it not my fate. Still learning to be a Psychosassic Frood. Brilliance depending of my mood.
ALT
