There’s no point to any of this. It’s all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know… a Quarter-Pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle…
Reality Bites (1994)
Troy Dyer: every dirty, hot, guitar-playing, philosophizing, completely unreliable but entirely lovable asshole rolled into one.