Fight Club Commentary

Ari: I was thinking of a white tiger actually.

It seems like people spend forever on the least important things. Like relationships that are never going to last, how to live a "happy" life, whether we're sick or dying, whether we're going to die a virgin. But I don't really think that. I like spending time on everything, with everyone.

With a voice like that, how can anyone go to their cave, or find their power animal.

It always seems the things I've wanted the most in life, I have never gotten. More importantly the things i have gotten I don't want anymore. "You're

They're fighting over which support groups to attend. Lovely. Ari: It's so sick and yet, sooo right.

just an attention whore. When you don't get the attention

the music is fitting, it contrasts the whole concept of the movie or at least this scene. and yet it's fitting.

you want, you throw a fit." It's not the attention, it's the possibility of having another soul to add to the collection. That's all relationships are. You keep going till there's nothing more to be found. When you have to stop and wonder what's left, it's time to go. Or it's time to start asking the questions that no longer apply to "normal" people.

That man is Ari's husband. Something has happened. I hardly understand. He called her. But what's the point of a phone call with nothing to say? There's actually a lot. (This is not what you were expecting.) A phone call is probably the next best thing to being in person with someone.

Ari: I can't stand someone eating that loud.
Me: It's Brad Pitt, he can't help it.
Ari: *nods*
Me: It's not even on purpose.

Why do I lie? Or why did I? I don't lie to Ari, or the three other people I let in. It seems like, I lie to myself because I don't think I'm interesting enough. Am I afraid of the moment I find myself interesting, something bad happening? But that's the thing that makes other people interesting. Hmm...

It's like his own support group.

So is this mine? Like my own invisible audience, the kind of things kids do when preparing to speak in front of a class. They arrange their stuffed animals in rows and perform. The next day it all works out, and those kids grow up to be popular and cool. I am not one of those people. I look awkward, but confident. I think. I could be wrong. I shouldn't care if this gets too long that no one reads it.

"You could swallow a pint of blood before you get sick."
Ari: interesting fact.

This person is me. The person who has attempted to separate herself into two different people, because it makes things harder than easier. But why?

She's hot. She's so hot. Marla, the girl in the blue dress, she's fierce. But she's messed up. I wish I handle dating a girl so messed up. She's me, or so Ari says. Huh...

Because in the most stressed moments or entire situations, you can see what you're really made off. If the world is painted pretty and made out of glass

That can't be healthy.

you learn never to break it. You learn that it's better to tread lightly. But eventually you wonder what if I break it? Do I live? Or do I crumble like the glass? (or at least this is why I broke my palace of hope and dreams, what are you like? Why don't you break. the. glass.) I haven't crumbled. I haven't lived. I have merely walked out of the house. And now I'm watching the people inside the house (These people were previously fish) and I want to mingle with them. but we get a little too close, we will smile, we brush and then we disappear. Or they from me. Because of all the people i've met, I remember what, 97% of them. I never forget faces. Or details. Just names. That's pretty much the only thing I forget.

Ari: Why wouldn't you get them removed?

i want to cut my hair. But it would never look right. It would never me, with a curtain of hair to hide behind. "but that's what you need...the curtain to be cut." Or maybe I need a longer curtain, so you'll actually pay attention.

I hate people who say "Fuck" as if it's supposed to explain something. But I've only ever used it as an adjective.

Yes he is. Does he die?

The man is terrified.

Excellence is found in the strangest places. So which do we admire the most? The man who wrote the story or the person who gave him the idea?

What's the point of a life that we're not convinced is worth living? The option isn't suicide. It's to throw everything else, everything you've ever known and run on pure intuition. Do it. Try it and you know what's sad? You'll probably like it a lot more than sitting every day as if you're bored out of your mind. There's really no excuse for being bored. The longer the intervals between you saying you're bored the more interesting of a person you are. i think. or there's that other thing that I said.