An almost unbearably tense black comedy of eerily quiet streets, bad decisions, and chance encounters that turn out to be connected in bizarre, unexpected ways.
A little success is a dangerous thing. A lot of success is worse. Few prove this thesis more conclusively than Dennis Hopper’s sophomore directorial excretion.
Before the New York hardcore sound came to be regarded as a permanent piss stain on popular culture, The Mob were among the loudest and fastest of the crew.
A mixture of Kiss, Ru Paul, and Pansy Division. A bunch of guys in drag playing, you know, rock, with obscene lyrics about felching, fist-fucking, and anal sex.
I turned 27. Great people die at 27. I’m expecting to live well past 27, until I’m old, decrepit, and haven’t produced anything meaningful in a very long time.