I seem to know all the cliches, but not how to put them together in a believable way. Or else these stories are terrible and grandiose precisely because all the cliches intertwine in an unrealistic way and you can't disentangle them. But when you actually live a cliche, it feels brand new, and you are unashamed.
It's not another treatment of a day in the life of LDS missionaries. This time, it's LDS missionaries who are part of a much larger story. It's more of an ensemble film that has characters from different religions, and no religions, and how their lives intertwine in present-day Santa Monica. . . . It's very much designed not to just be accessible to Mormon Christianity, but hopefully embraced by all Christians.
Tisch has a great film program and a great acting program, but they are segregated; you don't really intertwine. My peers knew I liked acting, so they'd be like, 'Go get that guy Gubler. He'll be in your student film.' I was in the same building. I became their go-to guy. So I left NYU having been in probably one thousand short films.
Matthew Gray Gubler
To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper. The moving about that the city mutliplies and concentrates makes the city itself an immense social experience of lacking a place - an experience that is, to be sure, broken up into countless tiny deportations (displacements and walks), compensated for by the relationships and intersections of these exoduses that intertwine and create an urban fabric, and placed under the sign of what ought to be, ultimately, the place but is only a name, the City... a universe of rented spaces haunted by a nowhere or by dreamed-of places.
Michel de Certeau
Reaching out, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. And I move into his space until we're not even an inch from each other. Laying my forehead on his chest, I take a deep breath and feel his whole body relax, as if tension is rolling off his body in waves. I was always the kid who loved the smell of gasoline. His free hand comes up, and his fingers slip through my hair before his hand settles between my shoulder blades. "Ben, " I say into his shirt. "Janelle, " he whispers back, and I can feel his mouth against my hair. I can feel him smile.