…and man, the unrelenting sexual tension between this this guy
and this guy
I mean, damn! And I don’t ship, man. I. DO. NOT. SHIP.
But like, when they’re nice to each other it’s great–but when they fight? SO REPRESSED. MUCH TENSION. JUST KISS ALREADY. WOW.
Not to mention all the flirtatious language/behavior:
Danno to McGarrett: What are you wearing?
McGarret to Danno: I’ll think about you the whole time I’m gone, Boo-boo (that’s a conglomeration of two lines, but YES he called Danno “BOO-BOO”)
McGarrett to Danno: *removes shirt and/or pants at any opportunity*
Danno to McGarrett: *complains about naked partner, stares admiringly*
McGarrett to Danno: *does impressive, manly things like towing Danno back to shore in their stranded dinghy…which requires him to take his shirt off*
Danno to McGarrett: *refuses to admit that manly, impressive McGarrett is, in fact, manly and impressive* Why do you have to be such a Navy Seal? What is it with Navy Seals? You’re such a Navy Seal, Steven. Such a Navy Seal. *stares admiringly*
Danno to McGarrett: You look good when you clean up, babe. Nice suit/Dress blues/tux. Here, lemme fix your tie.
McGarrett to Danno: You’re not wearing a tie! Just like I asked! *fond smile*
Danno AND McGarrett, multiple times: *Interrupt each other’s attempts to sleep with other people*
Danno AND McGarrett, multiple times: Our marriage. Let’s talk about our marriage. This is my partner, Daniel/Steven. We are married.
Everyone Else: So how long have you two been married? / Hey, are you talking to your wife? (When McGarrett’s on the phone w/Danno)
I am not kidding. This is LITERALLY them. At couple’s counseling. Arguing about who gets to drive.
And Danny is just so SMOL AND ANGRY. (ง'̀-‘́)ง
And McGarrett is just so TOL AND COMPETENT, and loves his smol angry blond boy. (✿◠‿◠)
Ship sails its goddamn self, man. Sails its goddamn self.
I’ve blogged before about Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s Hunters in the Snow. It’s a famous painting; according to the website of the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna where it lives it is “perhaps the most famous depiction of winter in European art.” Bruegel painted it on a 5-foot-wide wooden panel in 1565.
I’m only a sporadic appreciator of art, but I’ve known about this painting for a while because a poster of it hangs on the wall of a ski condo I’ve been visiting since I was a teen. It was only a few years ago, though, that I noticed something cool about it in a Tumblr post that showed a detail of the painting’s ice-skating scene:
I thought it was funny, and cool, that in the midst of painting that amazing scene Bruegel included that little bit of physical comedy, that pratfall, the guy face-down on the ice.
I’d always assumed that the version you see above, which was cropped from a moderately high-res online scan, accurately shows how he looks in the painting. I mean, he’s tiny; in the condo poster he’s just a fraction of an inch across. I figured he was just a crude stick figure in the painting, with that big round head and all.
Fast forward to today, when my partner and I were doing some last-minute Christmas shopping at Chaucer’s in Santa Barbara. It’s one of the better brick-and-mortar bookstores still around, and as sometimes happens I got sidetracked in the art section. When I spotted a big coffee-table book on Bruegel I grabbed it and flipped to the part about Hunters in the Snow.
There was a big detail of the ice-skating scene. And oh my god:
He’s not a crude stick-figure at all. He’s a rounded, anatomically correct human caught in the moment before impact, his hat flying off as he tries to break his fall.
I can’t help but see it as a metaphor. I think I see so clearly. I think I can reach through the screen and grab anything I want, pull it close and examine it, make it mine, have my private in-joke with the universe.
But it’s an illusion. I’m not interacting with the actual thing. I’m interacting with my idea of the thing. And it’s a crude, distorted idea, more about my own limitations, my capacity for self-deception, than about the rich, mysterious world I drift through unaware until it smacks me in the face.