Me? There’s nothing very strange about me. I was married twice before—once at sixteen, once at twenty-one. One was a crybaby and the other was a caveman. Between the two of them, I said goodbye to girlhood.
JOAN CRAWFORD as Helen Wright in
HUMORESQUE (1946) dir. Jean Negulesco
the default way for things to taste is good. we know this because "tasty" means something tastes good. conversely, from the words "smelly" and "noisy" we can conclude that the default way for things to smell and sound is bad. interestingly there are no corresponding adjectives for the senses of sight and touch. the inescapable conclusion is that the most ordinary object possible is invisible and intangible, produces a hideous cacophony, smells terrible, but tastes delicious. and yet this description matches no object or phenomenon known to science or human experience. so what the fuck
This is a comment someone appended to a photo of two men apparently having sex in a very fancy room, but it’s also kind of an amazing two-line poem? “His Wife has filled his house with chintz” is a really elegant and beautiful counterbalancing of h, f, and s sounds, and “chintz” is a perfect word choice here—sonically pleasing and good at evoking nouveau riche tackiness. And then “to keep it real I fuck him on the floor” collapses that whole mood with short percussive sounds—but it’s still a perfect iambic pentameter line, robust and a lovely obscene contrast with the chintz in the first line. Well done, tumblr user jjbang8
had a dream that I met a wizard and we fell in love and became unhealthily attached to each other so we decided to meld into one single creature together but the process was horrifically slow and painful and most of the dream was us lying in bed holding hands while lesions opened up in our skin and seeped out blue and green fluid and the wizard said "this is going to take a very very long time" and I said "that's ok"