scribbled secret notebooks//wild typewritten pages
~ Saturday, December 5 ~
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
The Postal Service // This Place is a Prison
What does it take to get a drink in this place?
What does it take, how long must I wait?
“ I think that when you’re in this business there are many different ways to navigate through it and one of the opportunities would be to sit down and say I’m not working until someone casts me in the next Will & Grace. I could do that. Or I could take what I’m good at and turn it into something and recognise that there is a shortage of strong women in this business. Angelina Jolie can’t do every strong woman role. Let’s spread the love a little bit and see what happens. It’s choice but I’m not worried about it. I’ve given myself longevity. When my face falls and my tits sag I’ll still have a career.
1 note
~ Tuesday, December 1 ~
~ Monday, November 23 ~
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Frou Frou // Psychobabble
Don’t come any closer
Cause I don’t know how long I can hold my heart in two
2 notes
Cuban blogger claims she was roughed up by state agents
The 34-year-old author’s wry and sometimes caustic observations about life under Castro rule attract about 1m hits a month, mostly from abroad, and have garnered several international awards.Sánchez plays cat and mouse with the authorities to dodge internet restrictions and post the blog, which is often blocked in Cuba.
She said she and Pardo were walking to a “march against violence”, organised by fellow dissidents, when she was dragged into the black, Chinese-made car. Blows rained down.
~ Sunday, November 22 ~
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
-T.S. Eliot
3 notes
~ Monday, November 16 ~
~ Sunday, November 15 ~
Quitting Meat: A Process Of Change by Jonathan Safran Foer
But perhaps there’s more to it. Perhaps it took all of that previous inconsistency, all of that pendulum swinging, to bring me to this place. Perhaps “failing” was not failing but approaching, one awkward step at a time, what I always wanted.
2 notes
~ Saturday, November 14 ~
~ Thursday, November 12 ~
~ Monday, November 9 ~
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