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Rules of life
Fantasies of this genius of horror can only envy. 64-year-old Stephen King creates such exciting literary works that are not only the offset but in some ways more and stare, because the creation of the King removed a huge number of films. "The Shining," "The Shawshank Redemption," "The Green Mile," "It," "Carrie," "Misery", "1408", "The Mist" ... the list is endless, but at the same time we partially grasp the puzzle of what lurks in the mind of this truly extraordinary man. In his interview with «Esquire», he lifted the veil of secrecy and told about himself, his life and attitude to what is happening around him. He whose thoughts over several decades from excess boil strange and inexplicable information that turned out to be a really curious person.
I am a literary equivalent of french fries with big poppy.
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The roots of all that I write, are drawn to one story. In high school, I met a girl. Then we parted. "I need to look at other people," - she said. "Go ahead," - I said. Some time later, I met her again. Under the eye she had a bruise. "I do not want to talk about it," - she said. Then we sat and drank coffee. She was silent, and then it burst. It turned out that she had met with another dude, dude, and once asked her to do one thing, but she refused him. And he hit her. I remember I said, "Perhaps you feel in advance that something will happen and you were scared?" "No, - she said, and I remembered her words to life. - We never feel the danger, which is really close ».
One day I went to a therapist. She said: "You have to imagine that all your fears - is a ball that you can just cover the palm." I said, "Girl, dear, yes I live with fear. In order to cover my fear is not enough even Chernobyl sarcophagus ».
Inspiration can be drawn from anywhere. In my book "Night Shift" is the story of "Mangler" - about an ironing machine that somewhat angry with the world. The idea was born to me that, when I worked in the laundry. With me working guy who lost his hand in this work - from his forearms sticking two metal hooks. You know, there are some things that employers forget to tell you when you arrive at a new job. This guy forgot to tell that to someone who works on the roll ironing machine, do not wear a tie. Over all I was shocked that after the change when everyone went to wash his hands, he asked someone to tell him the water and calmly washed his hooks under the tap.
I'm getting ready to write books. Do not sit in libraries, do not make statements, nothing nowhere stress. I just sit down and write c * banye word. Call me a butcher. Yes, I fucking sausage writer. What I write - a sausage. He sat down and ate. I admit it and do not accept any claims: because I never gave his sausage for beluga caviar.
I respect fear. It organizes people. For example, if you could imagine the possibility of such a choice, I would have never flown in an airplane, the crew is not afraid to fly.
I always fly business class. In the event of a disaster, I want to be to it as closely as possible.
Good ideas - like a yo-yo. You can push her away, but she would still be at the far end of gum. It does not die there, she just sleeps. And then, when you forget about it, it will come back and slap you in the head.
Literature - it's true, wrapped in a lie.
Talent is not static. He either grows or dies.
Adopted think I'm very strange or scary people. This is not true. My heart is still a little boy. It is gathering dust in a glass carafe on my desk.
Only your enemies will tell you the truth. Friends and lovers lie endlessly will be entangled in a web of obligations assumed.
The most important things are the most difficult to put into words. Sometimes it turns out that we are ashamed of their own feelings, because words make our feelings flawed.
Writing about his life - a difficult task. It's like sex: better to experience it than to write about it.
I write only about what scares me. For example, I never wrote about snakes - I spit on them. I love to write about the rats - those gray bastards scare me much stronger.
Scaring people with books in our time is becoming increasingly difficult. They have intimidated a TV, so I've been impotent.
Cocaine - a gift. It has always been my key to "on." I started to use it in 1979, and went on, probably eight years. Not too long to really get hooked, but certainly longer than the Second World War.
I think marijuana is not only completely legalization, but also make it a growing home-based work for thousands of people living alone. For my home state of Maine that would be a gift from God. There and so you can take home a good grass landing, but she will be much better, if people are open to grow it in greenhouses and fertilizer use.
I started to get drunk from the moment when the law allowed me to do it. I always drank only for a drink. I have never understood the booze in the company.
I will never take part in a seance. Even if my wife would die tomorrow, and come to me and say a medium that his wife had just left the relationship and is going to tell me something very important.
Monsters and ghosts exist. They always live and fight within each of us, and sometimes win.
Movie does not win the book. All these guys, like Kingsley Amis constantly repeat: Book of the Dead, society slides into a quagmire, culture is destroyed, circle idiots, imbeciles, television, pop music, decay, degeneration, and so on. And then suddenly there is a bloody Harry Potter - t * banaya crap on page 734, which diverges five million copies in twelve hours. For myself, I say nothing.
I am a literary equivalent of french fries with big poppy.
The roots of all that I write, are drawn to one story. In high school, I met a girl. Then we parted. "I need to look at other people," - she said. "Go ahead," - I said. Some time later, I met her again. Under the eye she had a bruise. "I do not want to talk about it," - she said. Then we sat and drank coffee. She was silent, and then it burst. It turned out that she had met with another dude, dude, and once asked her to do one thing, but she refused him. And he hit her. I remember I said, "Perhaps you feel in advance that something will happen and you were scared?" "No, - she said, and I remembered her words to life. - We never feel the danger, which is really close ».
One day I went to a therapist. She said: "You have to imagine that all your fears - is a ball that you can just cover the palm." I said, "Girl, dear, yes I live with fear. In order to cover my fear is not enough even Chernobyl sarcophagus ».
Inspiration can be drawn from anywhere. In my book "Night Shift" is the story of "Mangler" - about an ironing machine that somewhat angry with the world. The idea was born to me that, when I worked in the laundry. With me working guy who lost his hand in this work - from his forearms sticking two metal hooks. You know, there are some things that employers forget to tell you when you arrive at a new job. This guy forgot to tell that to someone who works on the roll ironing machine, do not wear a tie. Over all I was shocked that after the change when everyone went to wash his hands, he asked someone to tell him the water and calmly washed his hooks under the tap.
I'm getting ready to write books. Do not sit in libraries, do not make statements, nothing nowhere stress. I just sit down and write c * banye word. Call me a butcher. Yes, I fucking sausage writer. What I write - a sausage. He sat down and ate. I admit it and do not accept any claims: because I never gave his sausage for beluga caviar.
I respect fear. It organizes people. For example, if you could imagine the possibility of such a choice, I would have never flown in an airplane, the crew is not afraid to fly.
I always fly business class. In the event of a disaster, I want to be to it as closely as possible.
Good ideas - like a yo-yo. You can push her away, but she would still be at the far end of gum. It does not die there, she just sleeps. And then, when you forget about it, it will come back and slap you in the head.
Literature - it's true, wrapped in a lie.
Talent is not static. He either grows or dies.
Adopted think I'm very strange or scary people. This is not true. My heart is still a little boy. It is gathering dust in a glass carafe on my desk.
Only your enemies will tell you the truth. Friends and lovers lie endlessly will be entangled in a web of obligations assumed.
The most important things are the most difficult to put into words. Sometimes it turns out that we are ashamed of their own feelings, because words make our feelings flawed.
Writing about his life - a difficult task. It's like sex: better to experience it than to write about it.
I write only about what scares me. For example, I never wrote about snakes - I spit on them. I love to write about the rats - those gray bastards scare me much stronger.
Scaring people with books in our time is becoming increasingly difficult. They have intimidated a TV, so I've been impotent.
Cocaine - a gift. It has always been my key to "on." I started to use it in 1979, and went on, probably eight years. Not too long to really get hooked, but certainly longer than the Second World War.
I think marijuana is not only completely legalization, but also make it a growing home-based work for thousands of people living alone. For my home state of Maine that would be a gift from God. There and so you can take home a good grass landing, but she will be much better, if people are open to grow it in greenhouses and fertilizer use.
I started to get drunk from the moment when the law allowed me to do it. I always drank only for a drink. I have never understood the booze in the company.
I will never take part in a seance. Even if my wife would die tomorrow, and come to me and say a medium that his wife had just left the relationship and is going to tell me something very important.
Monsters and ghosts exist. They always live and fight within each of us, and sometimes win.
Movie does not win the book. All these guys, like Kingsley Amis constantly repeat: Book of the Dead, society slides into a quagmire, culture is destroyed, circle idiots, imbeciles, television, pop music, decay, degeneration, and so on. And then suddenly there is a bloody Harry Potter - t * banaya crap on page 734, which diverges five million copies in twelve hours. For myself, I say nothing.
