Almost at this exact time, fifty-five years ago today, James Dean died. He was only 24 years old and was just getting his career started. If he hadn't been driving on that street in that car on that day then he would have gone on to be even more amazing than he already was.

It's seriously crazy. He was basically famous for less than a year before his death, and that was just from one film. His last two films got him two posthumous Oscar nominations.

Maybe it was the era he came from, maybe it's because culture was so different then, or maybe his fame was a result of his death and his symbolism of youth and living fast and dying young etc, etc, but it amazes me that he could have gotten that big for what seems like so little and still be remembered today.

It's really why I love movies so much. He died so young but he is still alive, y'know? It's hard for me to imagine that he's actually not on the planet. Probably because I never actually knew him.

Anyway, I felt like he deserved a blog post because I love him and he was an amazing actor. It really is too bad that we'll never know what he would have done with the rest of his life. It would have been incredible.

Goodnight, sweet prince.