i wanna make an arthouse film

I wanna make an art-house film for an art-house crowd.

There'll be no emotional climax, and it won't reach a clear conclusion.

It'll be a fractured story about a man and a woman whose ideas clash like two hearts stored in a store-bought cooler battling for the chance to be transplanted into the body of an obscenely wealthy recipient.

Their relationship will endure many months of awkwardness and strong undercurrents of tension, sadness, and anger. Eventually, they will each learn too late the folly of clinging to defensive illusions.

It'll premier at the Sundance Festival, where it will begin to gain popularity.

The New York Times will say my art-house film for an art-house crowd is "intellectually stimulating" and "aesthetically bold," one of my aspiring something or other friends will say it's more poignant and less reliant on tired tricks and predictable posturing than my previous films. I'll nod meaningfully and thank them.

It'll be distributed on a limited basis to a few art-house-friendly venues across the country; however, it will not enjoy a particularly successful theatrical run mainly because of its "cerebral experience," which ultimately means I will not be able to move out of my sparse apartment above my parents' garage into that small bungalow where the trees and shrubs are strategically planted to block the view of my neighbors like I originally planned.