"Well, I played a lot of interesting people. I was Siegfried Sassoon in ‘Mad Jack’, and played Beethoven and Rochester in Jane Eyre amongst others. When I did Equus in 1976, a critic described my work on television as ‘odd bits of TV’, but these are no small parts for an actor."
post-canon every single member of kimcom likes to spoon kim dokja. nonsexually. it's just nice to know he's alive and there and feel his chest rise and fall within the circle of your arms. try to do something stupid now asshole. oh you can't? because of my octopus impression? that's right. take THAT. however i will make one exception for yoo joonghyuk. yoo joonghyuk may want to spoon kim dokja, but he never gets the opportunity because kim dokja wants to spoon him more. so the sleeping arrangement is yjh>kdj>all other kimcom members on rotation. actually i take it back there's one other household member who doesn't want to spoon kim dokja and it's yoo mia, but that's fine because she's one of the only people (besides kim dokja) who yoo joonghyuk would be comfortable spooning. so there's probably times when it's yma>yjh>kdj>today's lucky winner.
incidentally this is also the order for the doing-each-other's-hair train because while yoo mia WILL allow other people to do her hair, no one wants to because she always compares their skills unfavorably to her brother's. and she's really articulate about it. just utterly scathing. one time her criticism was so devastatingly, accurately incisive that she made lee hyunsung cry. yoo joonghyuk spooned him that night to cheer him up and yoo mia was so mad about it that lee hyunsung had to leave the country for a couple weeks. the household learned a valuable lesson that day. it's best not to disturb the delicate spooning/hair-train balance.
It's so insane and funny to me that film directors of biopics feel the need to add fiction to make the film appear more interesting.
Like. why.
You don't need to come up with anything to make history more compelling.
WHY make anything up, when Friedrich Nietzsche had to buy fucking silk underwears for Richard Wagner once, Abraham Lincoln did wrestling, Victor Hugo lived in a street of his own name when he was alive, Alexandre Dumas fucking shut down a racist with an epic comeback, Edward VII had a sex chair, Tsar Nicholas II has nudes, Igor Stravinsky and Pablo Picasso were arrested for pissing in public together, Oskar Kokoschka commissioned an Alma Mahler fetish doll which he likely had sex with, Roald Dahl wrote some weird and questionable fetish-fanfic books, Salvador Dalí sold a blade of grass to Yoko Ono for $10 000 because he thought she could do witchcraft with a real strand of his hair, etc etc...
Do we REALLY need to make shit up when we have all these batshit stories. DO WE REALLY??????
it's not really a job, but i CAN see your anthro!firestar as a reporter, especially since he's serving that clark kent realness. maybe he started as a lil journalism major or a kid who was into mystery novels when he rolled into Thunderclan-town and got caught up the murder mystery surrounding tigerstar. also im assuming ravenpaw was just sent off to barley's barn/ranch and not put into witness protection??
this is super interesting and i will consider it but i have to say the implication that being a reporter is not a real job is really funny
On one level the book is about the life of a woman who is hardly more than a token in a great epic poem, on another it’s about how history and context shape how we are seen, and the brief moment there is to act between the inescapable past and the unknowable future.
Perhaps to write Lavinia Le Guin had to live long enough to see her own early books read in a different context from the one where they were written, and to think about what that means.
the besties are working late shifts the last few days so cannot read my utter breakdown over the glasgow willy wonka experience and i don’t know how to sun it up other than everytime i think about it i just start crying with laughter like
THE UNKNOWN
AN OOMPA LOOMPA RESIGNED TO GIVING KIDS A SINGLE JELLY BEAN EACH
THE ENTRANCE
THE ADVERTISEMENT
All for the low low price of THIRTY FIVE GREAT BRITISH FUCKING POUNDS STERLING A HEAD
it’s giving £85 grinch it’s giving storybook Glen pls pls if you haven’t heard abt it look it up right now cause im not physically capable of thinking abt anything else
Patrick Troughton guests as ruthless racketeer George, out to silence the man who can identify his brother as a murderer, in Dial 999: Key Witness (1.26, ABC, 1959)