“Lord Byron gets up at two. I get up, quite contrary to my usual custom … at 12. After breakfast we sit talking till six. From six to eight we gallop through the pine forest which divide Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning. I don’t suppose this will kill me in a week or fortnight, but I shall not try it longer. Lord B.’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… . [P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective … . I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes.”
— Percy Bysshe Shelley on the lifestyle of Lord Byron (via timemarauder)
SammiSilber: I present, the taste test for the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos chicken sandwich. Edited on CapCut, and stick taps to my trusty cameraman, Brandon Altar. Keeping up the #ALLCAPS beat reporter tradition of trying a special sandwich ahead of the Stanley Cup Playoffs in D.C.
I've thought more since yesterday, and now what I would also accept (in lieu of, or in addition to any steel chair hijinks) is for Nicklas Backstrom to suddenly appear at the game on Friday, unhinge his jaw, and swallow Panarin whole.
Looking at that post you just reblogged with the pelicans and now I think Nicklas Backstrom exudes the same energy as that Pelican trying to eat a giraffe. Like when he’s sitting on the bench, chewing on his mouthguard and watching the other team; that’s what it reminds me of. I hope he tries to eat a Bruin next season.
This has been sitting in my inbox for a couple days because I keep reading it and re-reading it and every time the sentence at the end absolutely kills me. Whoever you are, I love you, you speaker of absolute truth.
If we start turning artists' names into verbs, how many of them would you assume would have an immediate and obvious meaning? While there were so many better things he should be known for, if someone "Van Gogh'd themselves" you're going to assume that a non-medically-necessary ear removal was involved. But what does one do if they plan to "Hemingway their way out" of something? Like is their plan to Just Start Saying Shit, and if they can't win people over with overconfidence, it is time for violence, and just start fucking punching people out?
What does one do when they Dalí something? What kind of a skillset does a person have if their talents include being able to Edith Piaf through anything?