Maybe I can understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea ~ it's insane. Pure fuckin crazy. But god, it was one of the greatest cinematic surprises of my life & I drank it UP.
All tagged Non-Fiction
Maybe I can understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea ~ it's insane. Pure fuckin crazy. But god, it was one of the greatest cinematic surprises of my life & I drank it UP.
When I told people I used the same treadmill as John Mayer, my celebrity experience received mixed reviews. Some folks were wowed, wanting to know everything. Who used the machine first? Did we exchange words? Fluids? Was his exercise program set at an incline? Did he have BO, and if so, how was it?
But while a label may not always be necessary, they are SO VALUABLE. Besides Quinni (Heartbreak High), Billy Cranston is the only character I've seen actually acknowledge his own autism & it feel real, & authentic, & relatable (unlike *hacking cough* The Good Doctor et al).
And one night, every star in the universe aligned and there she was: Veronica Mars. Angry. Curious. Funny. Underestimated. I wanted to be her.
Bell's journey serves as a reminder that behind the public personas and controversies lie individuals with their own stories of pain, resilience, and growth. It calls us to cultivate a culture of compassion and understanding, acknowledging that healing and redemption are complex processes that require patience and support.
While having Mal and Inara act antagonistically towards each other helps keep viewers invested, it loses much of its merit when one realizes the writers didn’t properly utilize everything about their own characterizations.
For months, I painstakingly watched whole episodes of House, M.D. on TikTok, posted by an innocuous user who surely pirated it from somewhere.
Because one morning the troubled woman seemed calmer, and I thought I might have a chance to get some information, build some rapport.
Because she asked me if I had any children and I responded an immediate “yes”.
Because then she suddenly shook her arms at me, and yelled “your children will die, die, die.”
For the 104 episodes before “Mindy Lahiri Is a White Man”, Mindy is established as a strong independent doctor who just happens to be a single mom. “…White Man” comes late in Season 5, just after some other mind-bending episodes. With only a dozen episodes after it, many shows would have been jumping the shark. As the episode starts loading, I realize that we are nearing the end of the run. And I’m already thinking about what show I will stream-binge next in the background.
Three months after my 19th birthday, I was sent home from my freshman year of college for 2 weeks for some kind of virus going around. I spent those two weeks in blissful ignorance with my friends, waiting on an email with a return date from our colleges that would never come.
In Chicago again, but years after, from the airport with my bags all packed, clutching a small quilted pillow and a backpack, my passport and a ticket for Rome in my hand. Blow a kiss. Wave wildly. Say farewell. My grandmother with her butterscotch breath. With her Filipino kisses: her nose pressed to my cheek, one long sniff.
It's the portrayals of thinkers and writers like O’Brien, Nadine Gordimer, James Wood, and Edward Said, that further explain the purpose behind such a book, more so than Professor Boyers’ reflections on the title figures. Much of this memoir is set at various dinners, conferences, and symposiums where arguments are volleyed and feelings are hurt. The atmosphere is taut with argument.
On three, the boy next to us threw a Frisbee that wasn’t there. A second later, we let loose the real thing. Time slowed as we waited for a reaction. The man in charge of our European well-being cursed into the evening. Contact!
During our time dating, Matt told me he had an ex-lover named Geoff. For whatever reasons and coincidences, more than a couple of my boyfriends over the years have had exes named Geoff. I apologize for this stupid and ridiculous response, but I developed a negative, visceral reaction when I hear that name mentioned by someone I’m seeing, no matter how it’s spelled.
She played the video and I spent the remainder of my time burning a hole into the screen with my eyes. I watched the instructor move the yarn one way, then another and focused on all the moving parts. I swore those written instructions were in Latin or something, I thought. This is much easier.
Babylon Berlin is set in Berlin when it was the center of the world for brassy jazz, exquisite drinking, all night dancing, artistic expression, and breathtaking sex. All of it happening as the worst imaginable nightmares are waiting for them right around the corner.
The only thing I knew about MS-related blindness was a condition called Optic Neuritis—a painful condition that hurt like a migraine, or worse. Now, in the waiting room, blind as a bat, I couldn’t recall being in any pain the night before when the issue started. New panic set in—was the issue my retina? Could it be falling off without me even feeling it? I’d been so used to blaming things on my MS, any alternatives fell by the wayside. I hoped for the best.
One evening, she went to Grandpa’s restaurant, walked to the back, and beckoned for him to follow. There, she looked him straight in the eyes, said she was done waiting, and if he didn’t marry her within the next month, she would leave him.
He pours me a white. Usually a buttery Chardonnay. He doesn’t pour enough. Nothing is enough. I take a small sip. I mistakenly swallow way too soon without tasting it and await the blood alcohol brain depressive effect to cool my mood. Not quick enough.
Not a trace of shame in her voice. It was as if she were sharing an unexpected revelation with this fresh-faced kid, a former coworker, still stocking shelves at Frys. Like she’d been to the mountain, at the foot of the guru, and had returned with a higher wisdom.