Sin is never less quiet than when it seems to be most quiet.
And now I was seeing that there was something really cool about that family. All of them. They were just...real. And who were we? There was something spinning wickedly out of control inside this house. It was like seeing inside the Baker's world had opened up windows into our own, and the view was not a pretty one. Where had all this stuff come from? And why hadn't I ever seen it before.
There is chaos behind the civility, of course.
But Mike was like a Bjork song-all happy and giddy and fun on the surface, but bubbling with turmoil and pain underneath.
"Dollhouse" was definitely inspired by the whole Edward Scissorhands vibe where all of the houses are perfect, but inside each home there are very messed up families.
Beneath a mask of selfish tranquility nothing exists except bitterness and boredom.
Men scanning the surface count the wicked happy; they see not the frightful dreams that crowd a bad man's pillow.
People see me on TV and I'm this calm, level headed guy. Honestly, that's the furthest thing from who I am. For a long time I struggled with anger and stress. It was killing me, figuratively and literally.
There are seasons of our lives when nothing seems to be happening, when no smoke betrays a burned town or homestead and few tears are shed for the newly dead. I have learned not to trust those times, because if the world is at peace then it means someone is planning war.
I think 1960s small-town America was very Lynchian. Everything was there, but underneath, everything was rumbling.
Smooth and ordered on the outside; roiling and chaotic and desperately secretive underneath, but not noticeably so, never noticeably so.
