The truth of anything doesn't matter anymore. What's right doesn't matter. What makes economic common sense doesn't matter. I'm blue in the face over it.
Let's face facts, this is visual medium, there's a very high premium put on people who are good-looking. But the minute you rely on that you get yourself in trouble. You certainly don't make a career out of that anymore as an actor.
There cannot exist in the future an economy which is still mercantile but which isn't capitalist anymore. Before capitalism there were economies which were partially mercantile, but capitalism is the last of this genre.
The 'rock world' is a lot smaller than it used to be. It's doing a lot less things than it used to be. From Woodstock back in the day and Rage Against the Machine, no one sells millions of records anymore.
I want to go and see things as a fan again. I am a fan, but I can't remember what it feels like to be a fan anymore. Because I've become an artist. I've become the artist.
When, at the end of the 1960s, I became interested in the Nazi era, it was a taboo subject in Germany. No one spoke about it anymore, no more in my house than anywhere else.
During my 40s, I thought I couldn't wear red lipstick. I thought it was just too much and I couldn't do it anymore. I don't know why. But now, I'm going to wear red lipstick for as long as I want.
I use Kerastase Oleo-Relax when I get out of the shower. It saves my hair. Actually, I've been doing this Brazilian treatment to my hair. It's a lifesaver; I don't even use a straightener anymore.
Plus the public's attention span is so short right now, if a skater doesn't strike while the iron is hot... well it's not like people will forget you, but they just won't care anymore.
I started thinking that if post modernism is about people opening up all their skeletons, I'm going the other way. I don't want anyone knowing anything about me anymore.
As for goals, I don't set myself those anymore. I'm not one of these 'I must have achieved this and that by next year' kind of writers. I take things as they come and find that patience and persistence tend to win out in the end.
Submit your story the same way you submit your heart. Let it break. Bruise it up. Let it get pummeled and sore and when you can’t take it anymore, throw it out there again.
If you don't understand how the world works, then everything is a mystery to you. If everything is magical and mysterious, then you really don't work on logic anymore. Then, everything is all about belief.
Fear, anger, jealousy, hatred of self and others are the outcomes of the lack of connectivity with your inner self. Connecting with your inner self and awakening your inner sensuality is not a luxury anymore, but it has become the necessity.
I think of hip hop as a mass media, radio, MTV thing. It’s been extremely relevant over the last 10 years and rock music is just not anymore—-a tear rolls down my cheek as I say that.
Writer's block? I've heard of this. This is when a writer cannot write, yes? Then that person isn't a writer anymore. I'm sorry, but the job is getting up in the fucking morning and writing for a living.
I don't play fantasy baseball anymore now because it's too much work, and I feel like I have to hold myself up to such a high standard. I'm pretty serious about my fantasy football, though.
Motherhood definitely took the focus off of my work. And I didn't mind. I had a few panics when I thought that if I wanted to work I couldn't get a job anymore and then I would get one once in a while and it would make me feel better.
After the baby, I got bigger, and I like it. I like me better now than when I was young and skinny. I don't understand this extreme fashion for being anorexic-skinny. We forgot about women with curves - real women. We're not embracing that anymore.
As far as I can figure, the way that it works is this: everyone has something that happened to them. The thing that we each carry. And you can see it in people, if you look. See it in the way someone walks, in the way someone takes a compliment, some...
Dean: [long silence before Dean speaks] You know, it's not just us, we got a little girl we gotta think about. [breaks into tears] Cindy: I know... I... I can't do this anymore. Dean: You're just thinking about yourself. What about Frankie? You want ...
