I actually wrote my first zombie book way before I got the job on 'Saturday Night Live.
I don't like zombie movies, they're just plain silly.
I quickly decided my zombies weren't really zombies. It was instead something you called people who were on this club drug, who then exhibited aggressive behaviors. And then like everyone who writes about zombies, I found it was so much fun.
I wrapped a movie called 'Zombieland,' in which I was constantly under assault by zombies, then flew to New York, still very much in character. With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie.
I think zombies have always been an easy metaphor for hard times. Because they're this big, faceless, brainless group of evil things that will work tirelessly to destroy you and think of nothing else.
If there had been zombies on the iceberg when the Titanic hit it, that would have made a much better movie.
My main influences are pop and folk music - Bob Lind, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, the Motown collection, The Zombies, Elliott Smith, and a ton of 70's AM radio hits. I love powerpop too.
I think that period dramas just need zombies.
On Eye of the Zombie, I had so-called studio musicians.
People called 28 Days and 28 Weeks zombie movies, and they're not! It's some sort of virus; they're not dead.
Zombies are the liberal nightmare. Here you have the masses, whom you would love to love, appearing at your front door with their faces falling off; and you're trying to be as humane as you possibly can, but they are, after all, eating the cat. And the fear of mass activity, of mindlessness on a national scale, underlies my fear of zombies.
These novels [Zombie, My Sister, My Love] are so special to me. [I don't expect that they will have nearly the same significance to anyone else.] They represent a kind of fiction I would love to pursue more or less constantly, but dare not.
I want to go to someone's world. I'll buy it if the world is full of zombies - I'll live there if you give me a strong enough vision of what that world looks like.
I'm a tomboy. I really love sports. I'm really looking forward to being the sniper gal, running around and shooting zombies. I find that really exhilarating.
Let the historic dissection begin. Man-made global warming is a dying market and a zombie science.
Generosity could be as contagious as the zombie plague as long as enough people were willing to be carriers.
Humanity is mind-controlled and only slightly more conscious than your average zombie.
We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds. For one breath everything feels better. Then it melts. The bus drivers rev their engines and the ice cloud shatters. Everyone shuffles forward. They don't know what just happened. They can't remember.
I love zombies. If any monster could Riverdance, it would be zombies.
First you have nothing, and then, astonishingly, after ripping out your brain and your heart and betraying your friends and ex-lovers and dreaming like a zombie over the page till you can't see or hear or smell or taste, you have something.
Tori joined us for dinner --in body, at least. She spent the meal practicing for a role in the next zombie movie, expressionless, methodically moving fork to mouth, sometimes even with food on it.
Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.
Nothing is impossible to kill. It's just that sometimes after you kill something you have to keep shooting it until it stops moving
Oh, hey, Claire,” she said, and blinked. “Where are you going?” “Funeral,” Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely. “Yeah? Cool! Whose?” “Hers.” Shane said.
Happily for me, ninety-nine percent of all human life is spent simply repeating the same old actions, speaking the same tired clichés, moving like a zombie through the same steps of the dance we plodded through yesterday and the day before and the day before. It seems horribly dull and pointless-but it really makes a great deal of sense. After all, if you only have to follow the same path every day, you don't need to think at all. Considering how good humans are at any mental process more complicated than chewing, isn't that the best for everybody?
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