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There was nothing in this world that was not a con, suddenly I understood this. Nothing really mattered, and nothing could be lost.

Miranda July

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Miranda July
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: February 15
Actor
Artist
Film Actor
Film Director
Musician
Screenwriter
Writer
Barre
Vermont
Miranda J. Grossinger
Mattered
Suddenly
Understood
Lost
Nothing
Really
World

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When she saw my messy desk, she said she was the same way, and there was no dust on the TV, and I was easy to love. People just need a little help because they are so used to not loving. It's like scoring the clay to make another piece of clay stick to it.
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People tend to hold on to their first impressions - that's why those first descriptions can be so important. You don't even necessarily look at people that carefully after a while you just hold on to that early impression.
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In the weeks that followed, we amazed ourselves. Our habits slid apart easily...And our very few intimacies were simply discontinued. Where did they go, those things we did? Were they recycled? Did some new couple in China do them? Were a Swedish man and woman foot to foot at this very moment?
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When you can see the beauty of a tree, then you will know what love is.
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There's always the sense that you should strike while the iron's hot and while there are all these opportunities, but that's not the way I get ideas. It has to be more organic, building up through living and through experiencing things.
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I knew the beginning and the end – I just had to dream up a convincing middle.
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I steeled myself against laughter I would rather die than laugh. I didn’t laugh, I did not laugh. But I died, I did die.
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I think because I write so many short stories, it's not that hard to come up with characters that are not me.
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She bludgeoned me with a look of such limitless compassion that I immediately began to cry.
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Maybe that's why people take pictures of themselves, to avoid being described.
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I can guarantee you nothing I do is a conscious attempt to inject something in.
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Would she understand that time had stopped while she was gone.
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I don't think I'm more of a screenwriter than I am a fiction writer. I'm more of a reader than a film-watcher, so I imagine that I'm not approaching fiction or films in a particularly cinematic way.
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If there were a map of the solar system, but instead of stars it showed people and their degrees of separation, my star would be the one you had to travel the most light-years from to get to his. You would die getting to him.
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… it wasn’t pretend, I wasn’t in a fairytale or a fable. I shut my eyes and absorbed the silent whoomp that always accompanies this revelation. It’s the sound of the real world, gigantic and impossible, replacing the smaller version of reality that I wear like a bonnet, clutched tightly under my chin.
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I'm not a cinephile. My films don't reference films. I'm more interested in rhythm and feeling.
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I looked out the window for other passengers in love with their drivers, but we were well disguised, we pretended boredom and prayed for traffic.
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I nodded, pretending I was relaxed. I watched the sunlight sparkling on the water and practiced mind-body integration for a few seconds by quietly hyperventilating.
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The things keeping you back-these embarrassing, boring, stupid obstacles-are the heart of what it is to be human. They’re the whole reason for making and needing art. So you might as well go ahead and begin in whatever way you can right now.
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Don't wait to be sure. Move, move, move.
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