Monday, March 20, 2006
JE N'ADORE PAS!
Thou must not forsake thyself, and rent thus movie. Why doth thou create movies which thine own mind not comprehend? What say you, oh people of New York, when the morn is green, and the sky is blue with light that doth yonder window break... Only to be troubled and confronted thus by words which make no sense to thee.
So, go drag the director hither by the hair. Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege, for this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman! Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make this film great, in hope thyself should govern New York and me.