about me
In a seedy apartment in New York City: a writer reblogs, appropriates, quotes, collages, gifz, ganders, reads and rants.
Rebels. Villains. Loud-mouths. Whores. Harlots. Infamous and Indignant. In Fiction.
Books. Television. Film. Music. Rebels in Fiction.
following
Daria Morgendorffer taught a generation to roll its eyes at the banality of high school. We believed your gospel, Daria, but did you?
There is a great duality to rebellion—that of pain and conviction. Some may follow a righteous path toward good, while some are tempted toward the retribution of evil.
The young always have the same problem - how to rebel and conform at the same time. They have now solved this by defying their parents and copying one another.—Quentin Crisp
Some rebels are just docile little boys in disguise, huh Mrs. C?
Some renegades are just cowards in disguise. Trainspotting or train wreck? Which is more fun to watch?
David Foster Wallace on The Next Real Literary Rebels
“The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels, born oglers who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles. Who treat of plain old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Dead on the page. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point. Maybe that’s why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. Today’s risks are different. The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘Oh how banal.’ To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of overcredulity. Of softness. Of willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows.
Some rebels burn bright and burn out—no matter how bright and pretty the flames may appear they always scorch the skin and hurt.
John Rambo just wanted a ride to the nearest pastrami sandwich, but the Washington State Patrol wanted his dignity. John Rambo didn’t want to go back to ‘Nam, he wanted to do the right thing, but Murdock wanted corruption!
Sometimes rebels aren’t born, they’re chosen.
Bart Simpson: an icon to a generation of nihilists who chose barista-hood at Starbucks over careers as corporate-coffee-drinking-yuppie assholes.
Rebels without revolution are just a part of the system.
