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The slick seductive surface of James Dean wrapping his vehicle around another thrown through glass, rolling across the pavement, the shiny waste of his wreckage, the waste of something beautiful. David Fincher. It’s cool to watch violence. Wet things across pavement. Entropic angst, saying no to dad and smoking indoors. It feels anti-authoritarian to buy a leather jacket. It doesn’t matter that the jacket is pleather, it's that smoking indoors feels [fucking (ed.)] good.
