"In Damon’s quest for quintisentialy English images he came up with the idea of a photo shoot with a herd of cows. Well it worked for me, all I had to do was find a herd of cows within striking distance of Central London! I rang the National Farmers Union who thoughtfully found Duncan Padfield and his herd just outside of the M25. The resulting image is somewhat of a classic of the BritPop era. I once gazed through a neighbous windows to see a giant bootleg poster of it adorning their wall!!" —Steve Double
This month has been all about celebrating the love and babies of my friends, and I’ve explained this before; It’s not that I dread the celebrations themselves, it’s that I’d like some of what they all have for myself, but haven’t gotten my chance yet.
It’s possible to be truly happy for others and also be tired of lifting yourself. The dichotomy between fully trusting it’ll happen when it’s supposed to, but feeling despondent because it hasn’t. Even when I’m having a great time, I still feel that strong undercurrent of longing. I don’t talk too much about any of it to friends because if I hear one more platitude from well-meaning people, I’m going to lose it.
The hardest part about these celebrations for me has always been afterwards, coming home to nobody. This is nothing new, I’ve been coming home to nobody my entire adult life, which I say as fact… Not as a plea for sympathy.
I’m good at it because I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I don’t want it to be like this forever.
On the way back from the reception tonight, I told myself what I always tell myself: that my feelings are valid, and it’s important to work through them (as opposed to stuffing them down or discounting them), but I have to remain hopeful.
The walls in this building are thick enough that I may hear our heavy doors shut as people come and go, but I’ve never actually heard any of my neighbors. I walked into my place just before midnight, brushed my teeth, got undressed in the dark, crawled into bed, and refused to have a pity party. There are much bigger problems in the world.
Just as I was almost asleep, I heard the people upstairs having a whole lot of sex. I thought, “Good for them!”(for real), and then I cried. But only for a few minutes.
Long story long, brains and feelings are stupid. Would not recommend.
If Seth Meyers Died, He Would Like to Come Back as A Bird. King of the Birds, to be Exact.
The former S.N.L. head writer and anchor of “Weekend Update” is celebrating the first anniversary of his solo talk show, Late Night with Seth Meyers. He took Vanity Fair’s iconic Proust Questionnaire:
What is your greatest fear? Running out of ideas.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Impatience.
What is the trait you most deplore in others? Taking fucking forever. Can’t you see I’m waiting?
What is your favorite journey? The Acela from New York to Boston, KLM from New York to Amsterdam.
On what occasion do you lie? When telling the truth gives me a moment of joy but causes someone else a day’s worth of pain.
What do you dislike most about your appearance? My nose.
What is your greatest regret? That I didn’t keep a journal.
What or who is the greatest love of your life? My brilliant wife, Alexi Ashe Meyers.
When and where were you happiest? My wedding day, listening to my brother’s best-man speech.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I’d manage my time better.
If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be? There would be more public spaces named after us.
What do you consider your greatest achievement? Being friends with the people I work with.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be? A bird.
If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be? King of the birds.
What is your most treasured possession? After a youth spent collecting many things, I’m happy to say only people matter.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? When my wife told me there wasn’t room in the apartment for all the things I spent my youth collecting and to stop bitching about it because only people matter.
What is your favorite occupation? Teachers.
What is your most marked characteristic? I talk with my hands.
What is the quality you most like in a man? Sense of humor.
What is the quality you most like in a woman? Sense of humor.
Who are your favorite writers? P. G. Wodehouse, George Saunders, Kurt Vonnegut, Paula Pell, and Mike Schur.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction? George Smiley.
Who are your heroes in real life? My parents.
How would you like to die? Old, but with enough remaining strength to bravely sacrifice myself to stop the alien invasion.
//Wait, what's going on in that cut scene? I'm assuming it's World's End, but I haven't watched any of the PotC films in a couple years. What's happening? I feel like it's really emotional and I would love it to tears. Lol.
I’LL LINK YOU TO THE THING BUT PRETTY MUCH JONES TELLS WEATHERBY AND JAMES THAT ELIZABETH IS DEAD BY BECKETT’S HAND AND WEATHERBY FREAKS OUT AND TRIES TO STAB THE HEART AND NORRINGTON TRIES TO STOP HIM SO LIKE DADDY FEELS EVERYWHERE AND THEN BECKETT COMES IN AND SMOOTHS EVERYTHING OVER ‘CAUSE THAT’S HIS THING AND AFTER EVERYONE LEAVES HE PRETTY MUCH TELLS MERCER TO GO AHEAD AND KILL GOVERNOR SWANN BECAUSE HE’S OF NO MORE USE TO HIM AND JUST. URGH.
Bascially what I’m saying is, it’s wonderful in every way and I can’t for the life of me imagine why they would cut it from the movie.