lunedì 6 febbraio 2006

Renton

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.




Choose your future.
 
Choose life.



But why would I wanto to do a thing like that?
I choose non to choose life. I choose something else.
And the reasons?
There are no reasons



2 commenti:

cornersoul ha detto...

"Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?"
-Renton-

phoenix_rider ha detto...

Ancora ricordo con orrore una sequenza in particolare... film indimenticabile.

Fenny