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Me With Nothing Left To Lose, Plotting My Big Revenge In The Spotlight. Give Me Violent Revenge Fantasies As A Coping Mechanism.

-Chuck Palahniuk

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Me With Nothing Left

Chuck Palahniuk

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Me With Nothing Left To Lose, Plotting My Big Revenge In The Spotlight. Give Me Violent Revenge Fantasies As A Coping Mechanism.

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Coping Mechanisms

More From Chuck Palahniuk

Ever Since College, I Make Friends. They Get Married. I Lose Friends.

A Good Story Should Change The Way You See The World.

There's An Old Saying: 'no Piece Of Writing Is Ever Finished, It's Just Abandoned.' But My Own Rule Is: No Piece Of Work Is Done Until You Want To Kill Everyone Involved In The Publishing Process, Especially Yourself.

Most Times, It's Just A Lot Easier Not To Let The World Know What's Wrong.

You’ve Thrown Down The Gauntlet. You’ve Brought My Wrath Down Upon Your House. Now, To Prove That I Exist I Must Kill You. As The Child Outlives The Father, So Must The Character Bury The Author. If You Are, In Fact, My Continuing Author, Then Killing You Will End My Existence As Well. Small Loss. Such A Life, As Your Puppet, Is Not Worth Living. But… If I Destroy You And Your Dreck Script, And I Still Exist… Then My Existence Will Be Glorious, For I Will Become My Own Master.

You Can Make Mean Anything.

Even If You Tell Yourself "today I'm Going To Drink Coffee The Wrong Way ... From A Dirty Boot." Even That Would Be Right, Because You Chose To Drink Coffee From That Boot. Because You Can Do Nothing Wrong. You Are Always Right. Even When You Say, "i'm Such An Idiot, I'm So Wrong..." You're Right. You're Right About Being Wrong. You're Right Even When You're An Idiot. No Matter How Stupid Your Idea, You're Doomed To Be Right Because It's Yours.

In A World Where Vows Are Worthless.where Making A Pledge Means Nothing. Where Promises Are Made To Be Broken, It Would Be Nice To See Words Come Back Into Power.

You Could Go Church And You Could Describe Your Worst Behavior, Your Worst Self, And Despite Your Worst Behavior You Would Be Forgiven And Then Redeemed And Then Accepted Back Into The Community Through Communion. So You Didn't Have To Carry This Burden Your Entire Life. Once A Week You Went Someplace You Went Someplace Where You Could Really Look Terrible And Be Loved Despite How Terrible You Were.

I'm Always Identifying Some Fallacy In My Own Life. I'm Sort Of Making Fun Of Myself By Exploring And Unpacking Just Why I'm Sort Of Automatically Thrown To Be A Certain Way.

For Thousands Of Years, Human Beings Had Screwed Up And Trashed And Crapped On This Planet, And Now History Expected Me To Clean Up After Everyone. I Have To Wash Out And Flatten My Soup Cans. And Account For Every Drop Of Used Motor Oil. And I Have To Foot The Bill For Nuclear Waste And Buried Gasoline Tanks And Landfilled Toxic Sludge Dumped A Generation Before I Was Born.

Schools Of Science And Physics Replacing Each Other At A Faster And Faster Rate. Just The Nature Of Our World Is Constant Revision, Constant...negation Of Previous Beliefs, And So...the Whole World Is A Twist Ending. Every Week Is A Twist Ending.

How Everything You Ever Love Will Reject You Or Die. Everything You Ever Create Will Be Thrown Away. Everything You're Proud Of Will End Up As Trash.

I Will Never Write A Sequel To Anything That I Will Ever Write.

Sometimes The Very Best Way To Deal With Unpleasant Things Is To Depict Them In Ways That Allow People To Laugh At Them And Destroy The Power Of Unsayable Things, Rather Than Refusing To Acknowledge Them.

That If You Could Acquire Enough, Accomplish Enough, You’d Never Want To Own Or Do Another Thing. That If You Could Eat Or Sleep Enough, You’d Never Need More. That If Enough People Loved You, You’d Stop Needing Love.

People Have To Really Suffer Before They Can Risk Doing What They Love.

Some Mythological Fat Asswipe Drives Our National Economy.

National Economy

Tell The World What Scares You Most. Save The World With Some Advice From The Future.

Which Is Worse, Hell Or Nothing?

More And More We Are Taught Something Throughout Our Growing Up, Our Education, And Continuously, No Matter How Much We Believe In This Thing, Something Comes Up That Forces Us To Revise Our Entire Belief System. No Matter Whom You Idolize, It Turns Out That Louis Armstrong Collected Vast Amounts Of Pornography.

This Deluded Little Rube Who Really Thought The Future Would Be Any Better. If You Just Worked Hard Enough. If You Just Learned Enough. Ran Fast Enough. Everything Would Turn Out Right, And Your Life Would Amount To Something.

Let Me Be The Ring Leader In Your Guilt Gang-bang.

A Child Who Is Disillusioned Abruptly, By His Peers Or Siblings, Being Ridiculed For His Faith And Imagination, May Choose Never To Believe In Anything- Tangible Or Intangible- Again. To Never Trust Or Wonder.

Real Writers Write Because They Love To Write. They Don't Write For Public Acclaim.

I Would Pay Snakes To Bite Her.

And The More She Could Imagine This Island, The Less She Liked The Real World. The More She Could Imagine The People, The Less She Liked Any Real People.

Maybe It's Just A Daughter's Job To Piss Off Her Mother.

I Don't Remember The Hotel Rooms Or The Airports But I Always Remember The Events.

No Matter How Bad Things Get, You Can Still Walk Away.

I Think It's Just A Matter Of Time Before Everybody Realizes That I'm Kind Of A Romance Novelist ... That These Are All Stories About People Kind Of Falling Back In Love Or Struggling With Relationships. Even Fight Club Was Just A Big Romantic Ending.

No Fear. No Distractions. The Ability To Let That Which Does Not Matter Truly Slide.

Our Real Discoveries Come From Chaos.

Invisible Monsters

Since We Do Operate In A Binary World, If There's Something That Cannot Be This Or That, It Drives Us Crazy.

There Are Worse Things You Can Do To The People You Love Than Kill Them. The Regular Way Is Just To Watch The World Do It. Just Read The Newspaper.

You Have To Keep Recycling Yourself.

Deliver Me, Tyler, From Being Perfect And Complete.

Without True Chaos, We Can Never Have True Peace.

In All Probability The Human Genome Project Will, Someday, Find That I Carry Some Recessive Gene For Optimism, Because Despite All My Best Efforts I Still Can't Scrape Together Even A Couple Days Of Hopelessness. Future Scientists Will Call It The Pollyanna Syndrome, And If Forced To Guess, I'd Say That Mine Has Been A Way-long Case History Of Chasing Rainbows.

Chasing Rainbows

When A Regular Person Gets Sick, They Take An Aspirin. When A Writer Gets Sick, They Take Notes.

Give Me Lust, Baby. Flash. Give Me Malice. Flash. Give Me Detached Existentialist Ennui. Flash. Give Me Rampant Intellectualism As A Coping Mechanism. Flash.

Coping Mechanisms

For Six Months I Couldn't Sleep. With Insomnia, Nothing's Real. Everything Is Far Away. Everything Is A Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy.

People Didn't Know Who I Was Or Why I Was There, So They Started Inventing Stories About Me. I Was A Registered Sex Offender And I'd Just Been Released From Prison And Was Being Forced To Do Community-service Work. I Was A Murderer, An Arsonist - All These Horrific Things Had Been Projected On Me Because No One Knew What To Make Of This White Guy Who Showed Up And Made Toast At 5 O'clock Every Morning.

For Official Record, Announce Instructor, The State Requires No Epic Hero. No Strive Achieve Personal Celebrity Of Spotlight And Applause. Lectures Instructor, The State Desires Best Ideal Perform As Mediocre. No Gain Attention Showboat. No Buffoon. Best Effort So Occur Average. Suppress Climbing Ego. Become Ordinary. Invisible.

What I Want Is To Be Needed. What I Need Is To Be Indispensable To Somebody. Who I Need Is Somebody That Will Eat Up All My Free Time, My Ego, My Attention. Somebody Addicted To Me. A Mutual Addiction.

I'm Fascinated By The Whole Issue Of Arousal Addiction, Which Seems To Be Mostly A Problem For Young Men.

The Things You Used To Own, Now They Own You.

Fight Club Book

My Writing Process Isn't A Very Organized Thing. The Actual Writing Part Is A Tiny Part Of My Life. I Often Write In Public. I Bring My Laptop Or Write Freehand In Notebooks. Then, I'll Read Through Them While I Exercise Or Walk The Dog. The Very Last Thing I Do Is The Sitting Alone At The Computer Part.

Telling Some Stories, Miss Leroy Says, Is Committing Suicide.

When We Don't Know Who To Hate, We Hate Ourselves.

I Can Become Someone Else, Not Out Of Pressure And Desperation, But Merely Because A New Life Sounds Fun Or Interesting Or Joyful.

Part Of Her Doing Suicide Intervention Is My Caseworker Has To Mix Me Another Gin And Tonic.

You Must Realize That One Day You Will Die. Until Then You Are Worthless.

That’s The American Dream: To Make Your Life Into Something You Can Sell.

At The Last Minute, I Couldn't Wear The Hitler Mustache Because Tiger Stripe Ate It; And Then I Didn't Want To Take My Kitty And Risk His Coughing Up Some Big Nazi Hairball On Someone's Front Stoop.

I Say Let Me Never Be Complete, I Say May I Never Be Content,i Say Deliver Me From Swedish Furniture, I Say Deliver Me From Clever Arts, I Say Deliver Me From Clear Skin And Perfect Teeth,i Say You Have To Give Up! I Say Evolve, And Let The Chips Fall Where They May!

We've All Been Raised On Television To Believe That One Day We'd All Be Millionaires, And Movie Gods, And Rock Stars. But We Won't. And We're Slowly Learning That Fact. And We're Very, Very Pissed Off.

If You Flee From The Things You Fear, There's No Resolution.

Intellectual Culture Seems To Separate High Art From Low Art. Low Art Is Horror Or Pornography Or Anything That Has A Physical Component To It And Engages The Reader On A Visceral Level And Evokes A Strong Sympathetic Reaction. High Art Is People Driving In Volvos And Talking A Lot. I Just Don't Want To Keep Those Things Separate. I Think You Can Use Visceral Physical Experiences To Illustrate Larger Ideas, Whether They're Emotional Or Spiritual. I'm Trying To Not Exclude High And Low Art Or Separate Them.

And I Can't Stand The Idea Of Being Alone. I Can't Bear The Thought Of Being Free.

Rant Would Tell People: 'you're A Different Human Being To Everybody You Meet.

There's Always The Chance You Could Die Right In The Middle Of Your Life Story.

The Joke Is, We All Have The Same Punchline.

You Are Not Special. You Are Not A Beautiful Or Unique Snowflake. You're The Same Decaying Organic Matter As Everything Else.

We Are A Nation Of Physical Animals Who Have Forgotten How Much We Enjoy Being That. We Are Cushioned By This Kind Of Make-believe, Unreal World And Have No Idea What We Can Survive Because We Are Never Challenged Or Tested.

Most People Would Never Admit It, But They'd Been Bitching Since They Were Born. As Soon As Their Head Popped Out Into That Bright Delivery-room Light, Nothing Had Been Right. Nothing Had Been As Comfortable Or Felt So Good. Just The Effort It Took To Keep Your Stupid Physical Body Alive, Just Finding Food And Cooking It And Dishwashing, The Keeping Warm And Bathing And Sleeping, The Walking And Bowel Movements And Ingrown Hairs, It Was All Getting To Be Too Much Work.

If You Knew That Your Life Was Merely A Phase Or Short, Short Segment Of Your Entire Existence, How Would You Live? Knowing Nothing 'real' Was At Risk, What Would You Do? You'd Live A Gigantic, Bold, Fun, Dazzling Life. You Know You Would. That's What The Ghosts Want Us To Do - All The Exciting Things They No Longer Can.

Knowing Nothing

If There’s Any Trick To Doing A Job You Hate . . . Mrs. Clark Says It’s To Find A Job You Hate Even More.

The Truth Is You Can Be Orphaned Again And Again And Again. The Truth Is, You Will Be. And The Secret Is, This Will Hurt Less And Less Each Time Until You Can't Feel A Thing. Trust Me On This.

A Short Story Is Something That You Can Hold In Your Mind. You Can Really Analyze How The Entire Thing Works, Like A Machine

I'm Giving You My Life To Prove To Myself I Can, I Really Can Love Somebody. Even When I'm Not Getting Paid, I Can Give Love And Happiness And Charm. You See, I Can Handle The Baby Food And The Not Talking And Being Homeless And Invisible, But I Have To Know That I Can Love Somebody. Completely And Totally, Permanently And Without Hope Of Reward, Just As An Act Of Will, I Will Love Somebody.

It's Nice To See Something More Pathetic Than I Feel Right Now.

The Liberator Who Destroys My Property Is Fighting To Save My Spirit. The Teacher Who Clears All Possessions From My Path Will Set Me Free.

No Matter How Much You Think You Love Somebody, You'll Step Back When The Pool Of Their Blood Edges Up Too Close.

I Don't Want To Die Without Any Scars.

Think Of A Rock Polisher, One Of Those Drums, Goes Round And Round, Rolls Twenty-four/seven, Full Of Water And Rocks And Gravel. Grinding It All Up. Round And Round. Polishing Those Ugly Rocks Into Gemstones. That’s The Earth. Why It Goes Around. We’re The Rocks. And What Happens To Us—the Drama And Pain And Joy And War And Sickness And Victory And Abuse—why, That’s Just The Water And Sand To Erode Us. Grind Us Down. To Polish Us Up, Nice And Bright.

So Here I Am. This Is As Good As It Gets. Take It Or Leave It.

Good As It Gets

The Only Reason Why We Ask Other People How Their Weekend Was Is So We Can Tell Them About Our Own Weekend.

In A City This Size, Every Year, Hundreds Of Husbands Walk Away. Kids Leave Home. Wives Escape. People Disappear.

It Only Takes One Mistake,' The Dan Banyan Guy Says, 'and Nothing Else You Ever Do Will Matter.' With His Empty Hand, He Takes One Of My Hands. His Fingers Feel Hot, Fever-hot, And Pounding With His Heartbeats. He Turns My Hand Palm-up Saying, 'no Matter How Hard You Work Or How Smart You Become, You'll Always Be Known For That One Poor Choice.' He Sets The Blue Pill On My Palm, Saying, 'do That One Wrong Thing- And You'll Be Dead For The Rest Of Your Life.

Mylife Might Be Little And Boring, But At Least It’s Mine - Not Some Assembly-line, Secondhand, Hand-me-down Life.

That’s How A Scary Story Works. It Echoes Some Ancient Fear. It Re-creates Some Forgotten Terror. Something We’d Like To Think We’ve Grown Beyond. But It Can Still Scare Us To Tears. It’s Something You’d Hoped Was Healed.

I Wanted To Destroy Everything Beautiful I'd Never Have. Burn The Amazon Rain Forests. Pump Chlorofluorocarbons Straight Up To Gobble The Ozone. Open The Dump Valves On Supertankers And Uncap Offshore Oil Wells. I Wanted To Kill All The Fish I Couldn't Afford To Eat, And Smother The French Beaches I'd Never See. I Wanted The Whole World To Hit Bottom.

You Ever Wonder If Adam And Eve Were Just The Puppies God Dumped Because They Wouldn't House-train?

There Is A Social Contract In "fight Club" And In "choke" Where The Protagonist Has Deceived A Whole Bunch Of People. In "choke" It's All Of These People Who Think That They've Saved His Life, And Really Care About Him Because They've Embraced Him And They've Been His Saviors. In "fight Club" It's All Of These People Who Are Dying Of Various Diseases, And They Thought That Edward Norton Was Also Dying So They Allowed Him Really Strong Pent-up Emotions.

There Was No Real Sense Of Life Because She Had Nothing To Contrast It With.

Fight Club Book

Fight Club Novel

Picture The Moment When Your Mom And Dad First Saw You As Something Other Than A Pretty, Tiny Version Of Them. You As Them, But Improved. Better Educated. Innocent. Then Picture When You Stopped Being Their Dream.

You Have No Idea What It Is Like To Constantly Disappoint People. You See It The Moment You Meet Them. You See In Their Eyes That They Expected Something So Entirely Different, And Here They Are Meeting You.

If You Don’t Claim Your Humanity, You Will Become A Statistic.

Quitting Your Job

That Quest For Something Pretty. A Cheat. A Cliche. Flowers And Christmas Lights, It's What We're Programmed To Love.

There's No Way You Can Get The Past Right. You Can Pretend. You Can Delude Yourself, But You Can't Re-create What's Over.

Maybe Self-improvement Isn't The Answer, Maybe Self-destruction Is The Answer.

Our Purest Form Of Joy Comes When People We Envy Get Hurt. That Most Genuine Form Of Joy.

Griping Isn't The Same As Creating Something. Rebelling Isn't Rebuilding. Ridiculing Isn't Replacing. We've Taken The World Apart But We Have No Idea What To Do With The Pieces.

Or Maybe...just Maybe This Whole Process Is Our Training Wheels Towards Something Bigger. If We Can Reflect And Know Our Lives, We Might Stay Awake And Shape Our Futures.

My Inventory Of People Who Can Save Me Is Down To Just Me.

Of All The Priceless Objects Left Behind, This Is What We Rescue. These Artifacts. Memory Cues. Useless Souvenirs. Nothing You Could Auction. The Scars Left From Happiness.

You Are Permanent, But This Life Is Not.

A Baby Is Such A Blank Slate, Like Training The Understudy For A Role You're Planning To Leave. You Truly Hope Your Replacement Will Do The Play Justice, But In Secret You Want Future Critics To Say You Played The Character Better.

There's Still A Thousand Places I Haven't Gone To Die.

This Is How It Is With Insomnia. Everything Is So Far Away, A Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy. The Insomnia Distance Of Everything, You Can't Touch Anything And Nothing Can Touch You.

Cults Make People Sing So Hard For So Long - Because It Over-oxygenates The Blood And Sets Them Up To Faint.

Shotgunning Anybody In This Room Would Be The Moral Equivalent Of Killing A Car, A Barbie Doll, A Vacuum Cleaner. We're All Such Products.

Where I'm Is One Of Those Stair Climbing Machines The Agent Has Installed. You Climb And Climb Forever And Never Get Off The Ground. You're Trapped In Your Hotel Room. It's The Mystical Sweat Love Lodge Experience Of Our Time, The Only Sort Of Indian Vision Quest We Can Schedule Into Our Daily Planner.our Stair Master To Heaven.

That's What I Love About Fire, How It Would Kill Me As Quick As Anybody Else. How It Can't Know I'm Its Mother. It's So Beautiful And Powerful And Beyond Feeling Anything For Anybody, That's What I Love About Fire.

We'll Never Be As Young As We Are Tonight.

It's Easy To Attack And Destroy An Act Of Creation. It's A Lot More Difficult To Perform One.

These Stories Are Ghosts, Bringing People Back From The Dead. Just For A Moment. For A Visit. Every Story Is A Ghost.

The Best Fights Don't Occur Between Strangers. They Occur Between Friends Who Trust Each Other.

Torture Is Torture And Humiliation Is Humiliation Only When You Choose To Suffer.

Everybody's Still Miserable In The Same Way They've Always Been Miserable, And More And More Of My Friends - Especially My Male Friends - Find Themselves Taking Anti-anxiety, Psychotropic Drugs. It Seems Like Everybody I Know Is Wondering If They're Really Who They Are, Or Once The Prescription Runs Out, Will They Become Someone Different?

Trust Me, The Being-dead Part Is Much Easier Than The Dying Part. If You Can Watch Much Television, Then Being Dead Will Be A Cinch. Actually, Watching Television And Surfing The Internet Are Really Excellent Practice For Being Dead.

Cassie Wright Knows, The Moment You Make Yourself Available To Any Man, He Starts To Take You For Granted

Here Are The Shadows Left Behind By A Thousand Moments, A Thousand Moods, Of Needs Traced Here On The Wall By Men Who Are Gone. Here Is The Record Of Their Being Here.

There Are A Lot Of Things We Don't Want To Know About The People We Love.

I Always Really Curious To See How People Interpret Things. I Know My Version, And I'm Kind Of Bored With My Version So I Want To See Their Version.

You Can Only Hold A Smile For So Long, After That It's Just Teeth.

Think Of Spoiled Cat Food And Ulcerated Cankers And Expired Donor Organs. That's How Beautiful She Looks.

Big Brother Isn't Watching. He's Singing And Dancing. He's Pulling Rabbits Out Of A Hat. Big Brother's Busy Holding Your Attention Every Moment You're Awake. He's Making Sure You're Always Distracted. He's Making Sure You're Fully Absorbed. He's Making Sure Your Imagination Withers. Until It's As Useful As Your Appendix. He's Making Sure Your Attention Is Always Filled. And This Being Fed, It's Worse Than Being Watched. With The World Always Filling You, No One Has To Worry About What's In Your Mind. With Everyone's Imagination Atrophied, No One Will Ever Be A Threat To The World.

Even If I Overcompensate, Nobody Will Ever Want Me. Not Seth. Not My Folks. You Can’t Kiss Someone Who Has No Lips. Oh, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Love Me. I’ll Be Anybody You Want Me To Be

You Can Say Anything If Enough People Will Listen.

Invisible Monsters

Suicide Is Very Contagious.

You Hear The Best Stories From Ordinary People. That Sense Of Immediacy Is More Real To Me Than A Lot Of Writerly, Literary-type Crafted Stories. I Want That Immediacy When I Read A Novel.

Every Woman Is Just A Different Kind Of Problem.

Imagine A Plague You Catch Through Your Ears.

What We Think Of As Halloween Is Really The Product Of Media Barons, City Mayors, And Candy-makers. You Know, Before The 1920s, Halloween Was Really A Terrible, Terrible Night.

You Can't Base Your Life On The Past Or The Present. You Have To Tell Me About Your Future.

Help Me Give Up My Addiction To Hope.

It's All Mirror, Mirror On The Wall Because Beauty Is Power The Same Way Money Is Power The Same Way A Gun Is Power.

You Don't Have Ideas When You're Sitting In That Sort Of Sterile Little Place, And You're Not Around People. The Most Boring Scenes Are The Scenes Where A Character Is Alone. I Just Need That Dynamic Of Other People Around Me To Get My Work Done.

I'm Working Harder Than I Have Ever Worked In My Entire Life, But What The Hell, My Life Is My Job Now, And My Job Is My Life And That's The Way It Should Be.

I Am The Cause Of All My Upsets. I Am My Worst Enemy.

We Went Sailing One Time, And He Wore A Speedo, And Any Smart Woman Should Know That Means Bisexual At Least.

How I Feel Is Cheap And Used, Dirty And Humiliated. Dirty And Tricked And Thrown Away.

Regret, Daisy Knew, Was The Only Confirmation Of A Well-lived Life. If You Didn't Occasionally Go Too Far, You Weren't Going Anywhere.

Make Me Into Anything, But Just Love Me.

Invisible Monsters

No, None Of Us Seem So Very Real. We're Only Supporting Characters In The Lives Of Each Other. Any Real Truth, Any Precious Fact Will Always Be Lost In A Mountain Of Shattered Make-believe.

You Spend Your Entire Life Becoming God And Then You Die.

Invisible Monsters

The Girl Traced The Outline Of Her Lover's Shadow So She Would Always Have A Record Of How He Looked.

Skin, Bones, Blood And Organs Transplant From Person To Person. Even What’s Inside You Already, The Colonies Of Microbes And Bugs That Eat Your Food For You, Without Them You’d Die. Nothing Of You Is All-the-way Yours. All Of You Is Inherited. Whatever You’re Thinking, A Million Other Folks Are Thinking. Whatever You Do, They’re Doing, And None Of You Is Responsible. All Of You Is A Cooperative Effort.

Anytime My Work Can Coax Bodily Fluids Out Of Someone, I'm Happy.

What They Don't Teach You In Art School Is How Your Whole Life Is About Discovering Who You Already Were.

I Used To Work In A Funeral Home To Feel Good About Myself, Just The Fact That I Was Breathing.

Most Of The Laugh Tracks On Television Were Recorded In The Early 1950’s. These Days, Most Of The People You Hear Laughing Are Dead.

You Have Endless Ways You Can Commit Suicide Without Dying Dying.

History Is Nothing Except Monsters Or Victims. Or Witnesses.

Just Keep Asking Yourself: What Would Jesus Not Do?

Your Folks Are God, You Love Them And You Want To Make Them Happy But You Still Want To Make Up Your Own Rules.

When You're Thinking About The Rest Of Your Life, You're Never Really Thinking More Than A Couple Years Down The Road.

It’s A Fun Playtime. Please, Don’t Kill It With Big Words.

Yes, These Are Bruises From Fighting And I'm Okay With That.

What Would Tyler Durden Do?

Seek Midday Nourishment. Visit Memorial Acclaimed War Hero Colonel Sanders.

What You Have To Understand, Is Your Father Was Your Model For God.

If Emotion Can Create A Physical Action, Then Duplicating The Physical Action Can Re-create The Emotion.

The Only Way To Find True Happiness Is To Risk Being Completely Cut Open.

The World Of American Politics Is More Contentious Than It Has Ever Been In My Lifetime.

If You Worry About Disaster All The Time, That's What You're Going To Get.

These Days, Most Of The People You Hear Laughing Are Dead.

Taste Is Such A Changing Thing. Every Age Our Tastes Change. But The Things That Really Last Aren't Necessarily The Best Or The Worst Or The Most Loved Things, But They're The Things That Make The Biggest Impression.

If Your Body Is A Temple, You Can Pile Up Too Much Deferred Maintenance. If Your Body Is A Temple, Mine Was A Real Fixer-upper.

Do You Remember When You Were 10 Or 11 Years Old And You Really Thought Your Folks Were The Best? They Were Completely Omniscient And You Took Their Word For Everything. And Then You Got Older And You Went Through This Hideous Age When Suddenly They Were The Devil, They Were Bullies, And They Didn't Know Anything.

Public Taste Changes And The Aesthetic Of A Culture Changes Over Time, So The Idea Isn't To Appeal To The Aesthetic Of The Moment And What People Will Like Right Now; The Idea Is To Somehow Keep Yourself In The Public Memory So That As Taste Evolves It Will Eventually Come To Embrace Your Thing. So, It's About Writing To Be Remembered Rather Than Writing To Be Liked.

If You Ask Me, Reincarnation Is Just Another Way To Procrastinate.

Procrastination

I Want To Find Something Else, Unknowable, Some Place That's Not On The Map. A Real Adventure.

Honest Is How I Want To Look. The Truth Doesn't Glitter And Shine.

Nothing Happened, And Nothing Kept Happening.

Nothing Is Static. Even The Mona Lisa Is Falling Apart. Since Fight Club, I Can Wiggle Half The Teeth In My Jaw. Maybe Self-improvement Isn't The Answer. Maybe Self-destruction Is The Answer.

This Is The Greatest Momemt Of Your Life And Your Out Missing It

I Hate How On Tv They Have To Fill So Many Minutes. It Means They Have To Put In Anything, And By Doing So They Sort Of Trivialize News; News Becomes This Commodity That They Need To Fill Dead Time Between Commercials With.

Put A Gun To My Head And Paint The Wall With My Brains.

Tyler Gets Me A Job As A Waiter, After That Tyler's Pushing A Gun In My Mouth And Saying, The First Step To Eternal Life Is You Have To Die.

You Cannot Be The Person They Know And The Great, Glorious Person You Want To Become. Not At The Same Time.

If You Could Be Either God’s Worst Enemy Or Nothing, Which Would You Choose?

Fight Club Novel

Every Day: Wear Sunblock. Cover Your Gray. Do Not Go Insane. Eat Less Fats And Sugars. Do More Sit-ups. Don’t Start Forgetting Stuff. Trim The Hair In Your Ears. Take Calcium. Moisturize. Every Day. Freeze In Time To Stay In One Place Forever. Do Not Get Frigging Old.

Do We Have Free Will, Or Do The Mass Media And Our Culture Control Us, Our Desires And Actions, From The Moment We’re Born?

The Lower You Fall, The Higher You'll Fly.

Our Culture Has Made Us All The Same. No One Is Truly White Or Black Or Rich, Anymore. We All Want The Same. Individually, We Are Nothing.

I Have To Have Everything In My Life Completely Fixed And Perfect And Cleaned Up And I Have To Be Complete With Everyone In My Life And I Have Seven Days In Which To Do That. So I Might Make It To Day Three Or Four, But I've Never Made It All The Way To Day Seven.

We Opened Our Hearts. Hear Me, Heal Me, Save Me, Believe Me.

You Buy Furniture. You Tell Yourself, This Is The Last Sofa I Will Ever Need In My Life. Buy The Sofa, Then For A Couple Years You're Satisfied That No Matter What Goes Wrong, At Least You've Got Your Sofa Issue Handled. Then The Right Set Of Dishes. Then The Perfect Bed. The Drapes. The Rug. Then You're Trapped In Your Lovely Nest, And The Things You Used To Own, Now They Own You.

The Weather Today Is An Increasing Trend Towards Denial.

Maybe Humans Are Just The Pet Alligators That God Flushed Down The Toilet.

That Guy Behind Me On The Airplane? He's Been Kicking My Seat Because He Hates Me. He's Kicking My Seat Because He Hates Me And I'm Gonna Kill Him. When We Get Off This Plane, I'm Gonna Make Eye Contact. I'm Gonna Kill That Guy. And All Of That Is Just Stuff In My Head, But It's Good To Get Rid Of That Stuff.

It Takes A Lot To Get People Talking In Airplanes. But Once They Start Talking, You Just Can't Shut Them Up.

We Want You, Not Your Money. As Long As You're At Fight Club, You're Not How Much Money You've Got In The Bank. You're Not Your Job. You're Not Your Family, And You're Not Who You Tell Yourself. You're Not Your Name. You're Not Your Problems. You're Not Your Age. You Are Not Your Hopes. You Will Not Be Saved. We Are All Going To Die, Someday.

I Wanted To Destroy Everything Beautiful I'd Never Have.

There Is Nothing Special In The World. Nothing Magic. Just Physics.

Find Value In What We've Been Taught Is Worthless.

What If Reality Is Nothing But Some Disease?

Some Of Us Are Lucky Enough To Fall In Love Once Or Twice But The Luckiest Of Us Are Those Who Find That Someone They Simply Can't Live Without And Have The Pleasure Of Falling In Love With Them Day In And Day Out For The Rest Of Their Lives. Relationships Aren't About Simply Falling In Love Once And Being Done With It, They're About Loving Someone Until The End Of Your Days And Growing That Love Endlessly.

Falling In Love

There Are Bodies Buried Everywhere You Just Have To Know Where To Look.

There's A Big Difference Between "not Caring" Or Being "nihilistic" About A Topic And Simply Not Being Enrolled By The Drama Presented By Other People. Just Because My Characters Choose Not To React In Standard, Socially-appropriate Ways - That Does Not Mean They Don't Care. They Just Reject Ordinary Dramas.

Kids, She Says. When They’re Little, They Believe Everything You Tell Them About The World. As A Mother, You’re The World Almanac And The Encyclopedia And The Dictionary And The Bible, All Rolled Up Together. But After They Hit Some Magic Age, It’s Just The Opposite. After That, You’re Either A Liar Or A Fool Or A Villain.

Until You Find Something To Fight For, You Settle For Something To Fight Against.

There Are Worse Things Than Finding Your Wife And Child Dead. You Can Watch The World Do It. You Can Watch Your Wife Get Old And Bored. You Can Watch Your Kids Discover Everything In The World You've Tried To Save Them From. Drugs, Divorce, Conformity, Disease. All The Nice Clean Books, Music, Television. Distraction.

Just Each Of Us Being Me, Me, Me First. The Murderer, The Victim, The Witness Each Of Us Thinks Our Role Is The Lead. Probably That Goes For Anybody In The World.

To Hell With Housework, Our Top Priority Has Always Been Between Our Legs.

We're Consumers. We Are By-products Of A Lifestyle Obsession. Murder, Crime, Poverty, These Things Don't Concern Me. What Concerns Me Are Celebrity Magazines, Television With 500 Channels, Some Guy's Name On My Underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra...

Now This Is The First Rule Of Fight Club: There Is Nothing A Blue Collar Nobody In Oregon With A Public School Education Can Imagine That A Million-billion People Haven't Already Done.

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Paul Tudor Jones

Roy Blount, Jr.

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