One Thing I Really Admire About Fight Club As A Movie Is That, Yes, Tyler Durden Is Bad. But The Movie

One thing I really admire about Fight Club as a movie is that, yes, Tyler Durden is bad. But the movie never takes the easy route and has him do a stupid evil thing to justify him as evil like killing innocent civilians, it outright goes out of his way to show he doesn't intent on killing anyone. He genuinely sticks to his ideals. Meaning that Tyler's status as a villain is a completely ideological one and not just "killing bad".

PLZZ PLZZ plzzz plzzz do fight club

𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 (𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟗)

"The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club."

fight club if it was awesome or something

Odysseus' reintegration into the world bound by mortal limitations foregrounds both his age and the distance he has traveled. The shipwrecked sailor who manages to crawl ashore naked on Scheria, bereft of companions, possessions, any token of identity — of all but the bare ember of vitality (cf. 5.488-90 — a lonely spark in a pile of ashes) — meets the young Nausikaa, whose life (like that of Telemachus) is just opening to the possibilities before her. The scene in which Odysseus, awakened by sounds that evoke in him fears of hostile men, faces instead a group of teenage girls playing ball, is both comic and poignant as it measures the difference between their expectations and stages of experience. Later, as he is challenged to compete in an athletic contest, Odysseus acknowledges the toll that age and journeying inevitably take. This is not, then, the epic of the beautiful death (one way to read the Iliad (e.g., see Vernant 1991: 50-74)) but the epic of timeworn, embraceable life.

John Miles Foley, A Companion to Ancient Epic, 2005.

I really liked Fight Club and from then on I started drawing them, even if in a somewhat crude way, I just want to feed my brain gaah

Angel Face is supposed to be 16, right?

Imagine him in his bedroom strewn with posters and dirty clothes, throwing Project Mayhem supplies into a duffel bag and flinging it over his shoulder, late at night. Imagine him bending over the kitchen table, writing a "goodbye" note to his parents explaining why he has to go away. Imagine him taking a deep breath before slipping out into the night and running as fast as he could toward Paper Street. Imagine the guilt and the pain in his chest as he's passing on the street weeks later and he sees his face stapled to a telephone pole, "Missing 16-year-old boy, blonde hair, blue eyes, call if you find him."

Imagine him showing up on his parent's front porch months after he left, his face beaten and bruised beyond repair. Imagine him moments away from knocking on the door and going back to his family, but the guilt makes him pause, drop his hand, turn around, and he heads off to find a community home he could live in.