#i liked it more than priory tho i think that might just be. new things in the same world feelings? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nightgoodomens · 2 months

Note

How did you predict that ??! It is awesome but omg . Like honestly he is trying so hard to get her out there I do feel it is abit late tho.

More asks and answers below:

Because they went very basic obvious PR. If something feels forced, on purpose, not organic, not usual; if it stinks, it stinks for a reason.

It started with him making a point to mention her during his BAFTAs interviews to ensure they write her name down.

Constant mentions from a man who always avoided talking about her are always suspicious.

But hey maybe I’m too cynical?

Then with every article underlining she’s an ACTOR. Which was a stretch anyway and frankly no media would care to mention her if he didn’t tell them to.

But hey maybe I’m too cynical?

Then bang we wake up in the morning of BAFTAs with every trash magazine writing articles about her suddenly about some old stuff so they were told to do so because they had zero reason to do that themselves. They had zero reason to care about her when she hasn’t done anything new so they had to bring up really old stories and focus purely on her even though it was David’s day. So they were paid to do so.

But hey maybe I’m too cynical?

But then bang again we are suddenly getting a whole over-acted show. Oh my godddd you look amaaaazing he made such an amazed face right in front of the main camera where they decided to meet. What a coincidence! Click📸. Ohhh time for a huge PDA kiss in front of all these cameras! Click📸. Oh now you give me a long loved look and now I do that in return! Click📸. My goodness like in a perfect movie with actors… oh.

And then ok we are done, where’s Michael?

David has worked his ass off to give her everything he could, even getting Michael to give her a role, now it’s up to her to do something with it. He will probably try to push her wherever possible, but we will need to see if suddenly after all these years she became an actress that people want because of her skills not famous surnames. Surnames only get you so far.

If she’s still the same, he can dance on his head and it won’t work. Sure Neil is his buddy was loves a nepo show, and Michael loves David, so he did it for him (he did make her watch an intimate moment between men though lmao), but how many more people will take her on just because David is pretty?

Oh I wonder what suddenly made him so desperate and motivated to find her a job after years of failures… so he’d be more free… I wonder if it starts with M and ends with L.

Honestly I was laughing when people were all “this is true love!” no babes this is business. The most blatant of businesses.

I doubt she suddenly became a good actress so I wonder if they will try something else with her. I just wish DT got a break and in result us.

I think things are a little different now and so might be his priories. I hope the agent won’t keep on using him to promote her. Even more than already.

Yeah I cross my fingers for GO to be nepo free but…

No wonder he’s so tiny, dude is exhausted from everyone hanging on him. He tried so many freaking times with GT, I just hope that agent finds her something that isn’t just hanging on him.

He is a shover 😂

If she actually wanted a job then she’d have found something she’s actually good at years ago. But she wants the “cool” job and doesn’t want to admit she just isn’t that good. When you are privileged, you can spend 15 years having your man try to make you an actress. Normal people go “damn I’m shit at this and I need to pay bills so let’s find something else”.

Aw thank you for writing in and don’t worry!

I’m not 100% sure yet.

I could see AL/MS break up but not GT/DT but now I have a slight itching (after seeing that the PR show was indeed to get GT a job) whether… well…

We have such an extreme push to make GT and AL independent or at least slightly less dependent on the dudes and it’s clearly a whole plan that they have put into motion. Why such sudden need? Especially since soft launching MS/DT at the same time?

I definitely won’t say oh yeah sure there is a separation coming. But I’m also not saying “no way!!!” anymore.

If a separation will come then on beautiful (££) terms though.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR #NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

41 notes · View notes

awhilesince · 4 years

Text

Friday, 24 December 1830

7 40/60

12 10/60

Incurred a cross just before getting up thinking of Pi (Mariana) Fahrenheit 33° and snowy morning at 8 1/2 – out at 8 3/4 – took Mac Donald – the 1st time and even said and probably the last time I ever shall try such experiment – went with her to Michel’s – but too early to get what I wanted – at least none but a woman in the shop who knew nothing about serving me – then en passant bought a couple of mince-pies at Tavernier’s – then unluckily thinking it would better suit Mac D– (Donald) to do what she had to do in the Marché St. Honoré, let her go out of my sight to buy a fowl while I stood bargaining for ten eperlans (smelts, asked 4 sols a piece at no. 56 – got them for 1/40) and never could find her again – wandered about the marché making inquiries – then walked along the rue neuve des petite champs as far as rue Chabannais then back to the marché – then away a little – then back again all in vain, so gave the thing up and returned by the rue de la paix and sauntered along the boulevard des Italiens – asked in vain at 2 shops for chinoises au sirop that I meant to have got with Mac D– (Donald) – at Corcelet’s, palais royal –

home at 10 1/4 – dressed – wrote the above of this morning – somehow I feel out of humour now with Mac D (Donald) no great fault of hers shall say nothing to her but it vexed me that I need be pothered so about dinners that there is nobody to whom one could say let us have dinner for so so and and there would be an end of it my poor aunt is really nobody well I am resolved on her going to Shibden where I hope not to be living with her again till I have somebody to keep house Cameron is not the person for me she is not a sufficiently good confidential thoughtful servant and George is a drunkard I shall merely remind him this morning that I observed the state he was in yesterday I shall just keep him to get us back to Shibden and as much longer as ssuits my convenience and that is all and I shall be delighted to get rid of him I will either have more gentlemanly people about me or none If the latter I shall save my money at any rate – writing all this has done me good as writing my journal I have none to speak to writing must do and does do instead –

‘tis now 11 1/4 when I have written so far and Fahrenheit 33° and fine morning – It ceased snowing almost as soon as I got out, and has been fair and fine ever since – there is a little attempt just now at the sun’s getting out – wrote the latter 3rd page my letter to M– (Mariana) then came the man from Giroux’s with albums – had Madame de H– (Hagemann) and long, very long doubting whether to take the soufflet writing box thing I chose last night or not – at last, yes! – then breakfast from 12 1/2 to 1 1/2 – then wrote the ends and under the seal and finished my letter to M– (Mariana) speaking of her ‘professed cook’,

‘you are pothered with one, and I without – I sigh every day for somebody to arrange these matters – nous verrons ce qu’il faut faire – ‘Shall you come over next year?’ – I have a great deal to say to you, on this subject, by and by – you know I told you long ago, if you could not come to me, I should go to you – I really must see you before another year is over – However short the time we might be able to pass comfortably together, a few days would be better than nothing – the state of politics is so completely changed within these 6 months, it is difficult to know what to do for the best – I am not sanguine as to the very long preservation intact of the peace of Europe – things are too much embrouilliés for me to see the way very clearly far before me – not that I have any fear for ourselves at present’ …

then the whole of the 2nd page of Paris news the republican has joined the Buonaparte party – stronger united than might have been imagined, but do not think they can overthrow the état actuel des choses – this morning say

‘so I see the Eastnors will not be near you – tell me what you determine to do about calling – Circumstance may probably occur to decide you are way or other – you are right not to be too anxious about the acquaintance I know everybody takes fright at the squire, more or less’ –

ask her to write by bit and bit, and say afterwards that ‘if it was not for shame, I should beg to make up for lost time, and hear from you once a week’ – Fear Miss Hobart is not quite well – she has a complaint – begin to be uneasy about the possibility of her having in some measure caught it from her anxious attention upon our dear Sibbella – ‘You well know how and where to find comfort’ Yes! Mary, I only wish that comfort was nearer – Do not hint to anyone my hope of seeing you next summer’ – will be 2 years next March since I saw her last – quite long enough –

‘the lease of our house will be out the 1st of July, and I must stay to make some arrangement about – ‘I often wish you were once more safe in England’ – I cannot imagine how you would contrive for us – now do let me have your ideas on this subject – my aunt was not all alarmed last summer into wishing to return to England – nor has she cared a halfpenny for the Trial of the ministers, or anything else – I am much the most thoughtful of the two, tho’ you know, I am anything but an alarmist – I really do long to see you – however, I have all along dwelt on the promise of your coming to me, or my going to you –’ ….. where are you likely to be about the middle of July?’ –

conclude with ‘I should be glad of your writing me ‘a good comfortable letter – adieu – again, my dearest Mary, ever very especially and entirely yours AL Anne Lister’ –

at 2 3/4 had just written the above and sent off my letter to ‘Mrs Lawton The Priory, Leamington Warwickshire, Angleterre’ from 2 3/4 to 6 (Mr Henry Edwards called at 3 1/2 for 1/2 hour to say how sorry he was he could not dine with us tomorrow but Mrs de Boyve had made them all promise 3 weeks ago to be at home on Xmas day) from 2 3/4 to 6 except this interruption, writing out posting account in Travelling Daybook – about 5 1/2 letter a full 1/2 sheet dated December 21st from Miss Hobart Whitehall to ask me to get 2 little almanacs according to an enclosed for Lady Gordon who has been very ill – the 20th the the 1st day she had been out of her room for many days –

‘she had been cupped at the back of her neck, bled, blistered calomelled, bathed, bedevilled, and done every sort of horror to, as she herself describes it, and is consequently now bettering a little’ – excellent accounts from and of Cosmo from Sir Charles Gordon who saw him the other day at Cadiz – ….’ we have Wimpole thoughts rising – January will prove them – adieu – ever yours Vere Hobart’

sat musing near 1/2 hour over the fire in my sitting room which I have had read there this last day or two to warm my fingers by occasionally having sat writing in my bedroom without fire, fancying the fire did not suit me – have observed myself always having indigestion pain come on in the course of the afternoon with a fire and not without – was it on account of the smell of the wood and smoke? Dinner at 6 25/60 – read the paper

Monsieur de Quatrefages came at 7 – and hearing I was at dinner said he would come again in an hour – came at 8 1/4 – I kept him waiting 5 minutes while I swalled a glass of Medoc, and then tho’ very civil did not absolutely keep by dint of talking and he went away at 9 – unusually and fortunately soon – he said Mrs Opie said I was a person of great talent – took many notes at Cuvier’s letcures – I said it was difficult to judge of one’s talent in an hour or 2 under such cercumstance – and afterwards somehow, on hearing Mrs O– (Opie) was absent from the last lecture from attending a pious meeting of the dames de la rochejaquelin, de St. Aularie, etc, wondered how Mrs O–‘s (Opie’s) sentiments could argue with those of these ultra catholic pious ladies, and how the death of the husband could turn her quaker thought the singularity and of tutoying saved less of real simplicity than pride – I would not give one of Cuvier’s lectures for all the meeting of the de la rochejacelins and de St. A–‘s (Aularie) of Paris – It seems Mrs O– (Opie) travaille – is writing, and will give Monsieur de Quatrefages a little niche in her work – he asked if I was not writing – no! I thought there were books enough without my adding to the no. (number) – I had no thought of turning another in any genre, but certainly should not write des romans (novels) – coffee at 9 25/60 then from 10 to 10 1/2 wrote the last 2 lines the last page and so far of this – Fine winter’s day – the man from Giroux’s brought the score-paper (with soufflet and drawer) tonight, and a geographic decoupér of Denmark Norway and Sweden for little de Hagemann on new year’s day – came to my room at 11 1/2 at which hour Fahrenheit 38°.

(SH:7/ML/E/13/0128) (SH:7/ML/E/13/0129)

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #paris december 1830

1 note · View note

castlehead · 6 years

Text

:a Not which one is right but which one is more like you Let's start now // this is a few makeshifts on the deity,

dint realize y i was gettin poor marks in college till i realized comic sans wasnt mla format for essays, but i kept on with it bc im anti establishment and my dope ass literary insights should speak for themselves.

my 'experimentation' as one nonplussed professor put it, with the font, progressively got crazier, and in the end i was doin all caps zapf wingdings mized wih herculanum

needless to say, i got my degree.. IN BEIN A BOSS.

na but yeah i got kicked out of that school. still bummin on campus actually, and probably psychotic from this ecstasy i keep taking. this guy in f comp makes his own, has a pill press nd everything.

the shoes i original got as a college present from my parents got stolen, or in any case i woke up in a snow drift next to the commons dumpster without them on, so i just wear slippers. my toes are purple. ther always feels like there is something in my teeth or throat i cannot dislodge. i am the campus transient, avoiding th. RAs and ignoring the eviction notices. like raping the willing, one cannot be evicted if one is homeless. with the help of a few friends i sold drugs to when my rents still gave me money and i was still enrolled, i alternate between various dormitory hovels, hiding out from the campus police like some ghastly dysfunctional version of anne frank.

i havent taken my pills and smell. i emaciate my already rejected body, rejected by the establishment goons, with cocaine, and remind myself of the leftover chicken carcass and neatly lined bones whose tomb was a disgusting box of dominos buffalo wings i ordred and consumed my first semester here and that remained in the same place until i abandoned that radioactive dormroom to die slowly and painfully, and metaphorically, since living quarters do not possess life. i am starting tho to wonder if i myself possess that as well or if i did once and now am but a structure, a part of the collegiate landscape, sniffed at by diligent students and attempted to get thru to by intellectual slackers, decadent addicts themselves on their way to where i am, and wooks who need someone to smoke with on a sunday 4 am and know i always keep track of what festis are goin on on campus; i receive the next round of empathy from a new stranger who maybe heard of me or has seen me around and wondered what i was still doing here.

empathy, empathy, curiosity as to the quirky insane dude fried by mdma and a shitload of adderall for no purpose bc i have no practical skills. a monotony of empathy ripping off and using for the metaphorical shit on my metaphorical ass, like swquares of toilet paper who fancy me a hobo poet in need of on top of text books i never opened, on a desk i used as a trash receptacle. and speaking of wings, i think i might be literally going into a dissociative state because all the leaves on the trees look like zapf wingdings. my clavicle is not only visible but sticks out of my body further than my chest does.

watch out for hell day today, for something godlier than god. i deliver it.

The effect I wish to give, as it always has been, is that of a truth clearly viewed, in utter horror. Gods factotum, shuffling thru abandoned files that sometime held a secret forgotten, tho no less true now, and the horror perhaps, that we forgot something so crucially, fundamentally true, and so long ago.

this work is twisted, sad, manic, strange, fluid, stilted, inappropriate, foolish, magnificent.

if god doesnt exist, neither does the version of myself with dreadlocks

. . . . . . .

one has no choice in the end but to resign oneself, and drop their head. and yet, where do they look, if one in shrinking away for the purpose of humbling hisself afore the god of anxiety, and receiving his respite, knows nothing more than but to resign? where is the clarity here? there is no clarity 'here'. it is there, and come upon in moments of fear and trembling at the dread chaos, the doubt in a heart and split in a mind.

it is there, for one is staring at the ground, awaiting an end to the necessary aversion from the sight of a higher morsel of GOD.

. . . . . . .

atheism should not be an opinion it is not the result of not believing in god it is simply living life without a thought as to a religious god. we are not reacting to religion we are IN reality just as the catholic is IN reality. saying "I don't believe in god" is like equating nothingness to a lack of everything. there is no reactive state to atheism at its purest. it is not an acknowledgment, in other words, of no god, but an acknowledgment of what is before one's eyes, this vast neutral space I defy you to say is different from the religious folks' apprehension of objects and desires, all before them, swimming in ghostly revelry or not, only figurations anyway. o this insanely divided world.

i have a secular conception of god based on my teleological hypotheses re the nature of a causa prima, causa sui. it's the definitions that need defining, not the thing with a name on it that needs explaining. physics already does that.

remove intent for the case of nihilism, and you will have what i am saying here. no case at all. no 'response' so to speak. atheism can be evangelical

im not an evangelical atheist because what i believe changes based on the day but is always just as real haha. belief is tenuous. i go by that

it's the definitions that need defining, not the thing that needs explaining.

my conception of god is that it is the only thing that does not exist. so in a way, yes, i am an atheist.

'God' as defined in its easiest terms, is an ultimate uniquity. like, an outstanding substance. anyway, idk. at the end of the day idk haha

Kant's own a priori notional form of perception comes to mind. in front of our eyes is what is real. the observer initiates the ocular nerve, and the thing or situation burns into the receiving blankness of the mind.

like, have we reaped all the possible benefits of fire by now? surely the wails of prometheus fall not on deaf ears!

. . . . . . .

twisted, sad, manic, strange, fluid, stilted, inappropriate, foolish, magnificent.

. . . . . . .

green tortilla chips my ass. he said with no attempt at disguising incredulity, wiping the tears from his brow.

. . . . . . .

whereas god is all, i am only myself, knowledgeable of only myself; therefore, unless god is simultaneously aware of being myself alone along with being everything, and of that everything knowledgeable of each and every thing as if god were only that thing, i am then let in on an experience of individuality that god is unaware of.

this is a question of how to be the most purely omniscient, omnipotent, etc. that is the question that our conception of god is asking.

corollary: if in the case of being simultaneously the experience i have of myself, and being all, then it is quite logical to say that our experience in life is in fact a godly experience, since i, too, would be unaware of being all, as goes the route of any human perception of things.

when i say i am only aware of myself i mean it in ontological terms, fyi -and also in, i will admit, somewhat absolutist terms. of course as people, psychologically, we can put ourselves in another's shoes, step outside of our comfort zone, change an opinion [or five] and every person is an environmental sponge -we can adopt varying personality traits from the culture we is born into etc. -this argument presupposes an absolute view, kinda,- in that, IF this were how it went, it wld go such nd such -this statement of mine does not examine a phenomenological or spiritual connection between people but examines the relativity and possible logical gaps in -the idea, or notion if you prefer- of omniscience.- there is only theory haha <#

we create our gods but they exist as much as we do

. . . . . . .

turn your back, find yourself faceless, at least, to someone.

. . . . . . .

wondering if I got a problm w. th prostate bc sometimes when I feel a shit coming I piss n it goes away. Don't change much re bathroom routine tho since I already sit down wen I pee in the first place, and according to my second ex wife this means I am a lazy fat whore

interested in the concept of the devout as being the truest sceptics.

. . . . . . .

Thought has the coherence of being but is not being, i.e. beginning and ending in our living heads as something not itself alive, but a mere transfer of connection willed consciously to create that inert unbreathing grand called the magnificent bullshit, the idea.

the quiet horror of the mundane dailyness.

. . . . . . .

i think something elitist and say within, Well that was elitist wasnt it, dan. then pat myself on the back at my ability to check my arrogance, specifically when i see the thought thru the lens of something a cousin of mine with generally liberal views and empathy who fishes in alaska for money and lives off the grid would remark to himself. then, i get slightly nauseated after mentally leafing thru all the times i have been proud of mentally criticizing myself for something in the first place outwardly bad. and there goes on the circular drudge of ugliness, not evaded outright, but felt the pangs of guilt in the says within, that say me again and again in my inertial brood, of void i would hope, of searching for clarity i wish, but that is probably more like a moralizing, limited gauge, like feeling better about something ugly that is yr fault by feeling bad about it for a little so you can get that part over with without the possibility of another harder wave of guilt for not feeling bad at all about the ugly thing, and therewith reacting with doubts to doubtful reactions, until yr whole value system is a wilderness of mirrors.

. . . . . . .

im a perfectionist when it comes to sensation. the beautiful feeling must be experienced in the proper setting that would maximize its potential. i think this is y i used to do lots of drugs, which by nature are the commodification of sensations. probably also y i was super miserable doing them and kept doing them despite that. there is a certain ring of the hoarder or magpie in this perfectionism that wants to connect physicality with ego that i see as well in the idea of paying money to literally feel specific sensations; equally, the result of this on the psyche is as tenuous here as with the futile idea of thinking the perfect setting for doing drugs is always at hand, which it rarely is, or at the least there is something to mar the perfect dream, that dragon, that pursuit of happiness, life, and liberty via thinking on how best situate the chains to, in essence, 'maximize' your mobility, but nathless remaining held in doom. the drug world, uh, is itself volatile; perfectionism and volatility dont jive so well, usually. and so on. hm. hegh.

heh.

. . . . . . .

I only like Eminem rap and that one NWA song like hell naw the rest is garbage now let me go back to my trailer in the woods where I live in harmony with the Elves who have seemed to appear more frequently now that I have that bathtub meth dungeon set up in my basement where skynerd plays ceaselessly from an unlocatable place. My hero is Ed Gein. But I don't do the lampshade thing. I do however have a human skull I bought from my buddy who owns a war relics and parephernalia shop, he had to go in the back to get it and lock the store so nobodys would come snoop. Turns out some folks comed snoop to see if he figured any more available and he got mad at me for blabbing, an I said, Giles, ya know I ain't blabbing, but he dint believe it, an now we just kinder avoid each other at the local NA meetin. People tryn cop there and some do and theys go behind the water tower tagitit, I int do that part tho, a tad fucked up I mean, these people try n getting clean an all, why make it harder n it eyis? But if y'all wanit I get it tiya, come by and share a chaw almighty God. Gib ye a gude price too. *PATOOEY* I. Uh am sober myself. 20 yrs. but damn ye ye make a buck more n working garbage detail selling home cooked meth I reckon ye. Don't touch the stuff I don't anymore after I heard this queer fella from out a town got his arm chopped off when he mainlined eyit. Tryn I guess do some sex stuff and a days travel from the city. City folk don't know it's diffeRent strength down here's doe. I reckon. *MEDITATIVE PATOOEY* yes sirn. Huhm.

. . . . . . .

The thing abt the Sex Pistols is, tho they engineered the punk genre immeasurably, they seem to no longer be in the cultural conversation, except within factions of grey haired aficionados. Even the more radio friendly The Clash seems notably absent in this regard. Has punk developed beyond its early stages, or is punk, being the genre that it is, dependent on whatever the moments youth zeitgeist is? punk is visceral because it is held in time this way. first gen punk, cbgbs headliners of ago and ago, do not exert these days the same walbreaking feel, bc I think there's so much virtuosic music being made today that the path of what will develop is harder to determine. Musicians in throes break down walls without batting an eye. Any musical iconoclasm expressed in the music of the past, then, especially to the contemporary ear, is bound to seem bathetic. Like microaggressions as expressions of racism, our society's opening of mind leads to a closed mind, as one can justify not being racist by simply saying they do not think they are better than marginalized peoples, have never done anything racist, think we are all equal, are not clansmen lol. what ruffles feathers is less obvious, in turn, bc expressions of the ersatz new and the real new are harder and harder to determine. The surplus of media, ideas, and opinions, I think, will lead us to a place where "cultural norm" becomes an oxymoron, hopefully. But then, what else will be left to invigorate, if so much is already so much done out, already? Does there exist a perspective, artistic or no, that is not liable to become passé? Or even some thought never thought before? I know there is, I for one know there is, because as a poet I see much to fix, and much that I work to do bc I see it nowhere else; and this most crucially is not an impression of mine based on today's lit but every days lit there has ever been, throughout history. Just I can literally not even yo, yo

. . . . . . .

Mathsmatics can transcend thru the grandeur of its implications but not thru the means towards said implications; philo can do the same, but it's better penchant is for transcending thru means to electrify a mundane conclusion or give a system of reason to a general thought-trope such as, "reality is an illusion" or whichever flat idea u prefer to follow. Since it is pure logos, philo differs from math in being more readily universal; tho the applications of math are more readilly useful than the positives that come with mental clarity at the understanding an achieved unified system. Poetry is all means, so then must dazzle, and needs no evidence, conclusion, or even subject, but need only sway with beauty. Therein is the problem with the existential issue of selfhood. Reductive analysis of self becomes psych, and the only pure philo to be had in selfhoods exegesis is not to be found in anything like a system of proofs or syllogisms, etc. selfhood, as Kierkegaard recognized, is poetic bc it exacerbates reality, exhausts all of it. it is individual, and so copious a thing has no one forged path to what it is, or even any path at all, to what it is, since like Pascals God the self is a circle whose point is everywhere and circumference nowhere. Figuring out a reality via a teleology or thru logic is nicer to attempts at systems. But individual self is too mucky for any proof to say it exists; the murkiness shines, as it always does, when the means are prevalent, since the means, being held moment to moment, rely on nothing but expose a variety of paths to more variety. Philo then is better at least than Math for finding out something obfuscated, but nothing but poetry can so deeply probe the self, as its humility is lain in the respect for a complete dissembling of systems.

. . . . . . .

the iconic ny jewish deli sandwich is in essence a robust mountain of roast beef held feebly between two unnecessary pieces of sad, chickenshit marble rye

the roast beef, of course, wld be kosher.

I create; I waste. Yet nothing is perfect, nothing, nothing. Not even dignity.

#prose #collage #frammenti #zibaldone #makeshift #god #god n stuff #prowse #writing

1 note · View note