hillbilly at heart

archiveofourown.org
Daryl's voice for your listening pleasure!

Guys seriously- if you want to hear Daryl’s voice up close and personal as he pines for Rick, listen to this podfic, ASAP. @hillbilly-with-a-heart-of-gold sounds flawless in his impression!

I can’t say enough about this awesome project from @hillbilly-with-a-heart-of-gold and @dustandirt so I won’t say anything more that - YOU ALL SHOULD CHECK THIS OUT!

I mean… I’m not trying to tell you what to do… But if you want to hear Rick and Daryl…in Rick and Daryl’s voice… Talking each other off as they masterbate… Then you should take some time, grab your headphones and check this out. The whole story is adorable and hilarious and all the work with the sound effects and music make this a one-of-a-kind Rickyl creation!

Norman Reedus Interview for So It Goes by James Wright

It has been a long time coming, but Norman Reedus is at peace. In 1991, the actor was earning seven dollars and fifty cents an hour working in a busted Harley repair shop in Venice Beach, California. He’d followed a girl from Japan over to LA, but it didn’t work out. Neither did the job. One night he found himself angry and drunk at a party in the Hills and - Hollywood being Hollywood - his abusive tirade won him a part in a play. Fast-forward twenty years and a career’s worth of roles in dark, violent and barely seen independent films, Reedus was a man in he shadows, flirting with photography, art and the idea of giving up acting for good. And then it all changed. AMC’s The Walking Dead - the critically acclaimed show about survival in post-apocalyptic, zombie-ridden Georgia - has transformed Reedus, at forty-six into one of the most recognisable faces on American television. His poncho-wearing, crossbow-toting hillbilly with a heart, Daryl Dixon, looks like it could be just the start.

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Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested… Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
—  Hunter S. Thompson

Lynn Goldsmith     The Good Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, the Gramercy Park Hotel, New York City      1977


“There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It’s a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die. Who knows? If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viscously overcrowded version of Phoenix- a clean well lighted place full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars where almost everybody seems vaguely happy, except those who know in their hearts what is missing…. And being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally understanding that the one thing you want is not there. Missing. Back-ordered. No tengo. Vaya con dios. Grow up! Small is better. Take what you can get…. Maybe there is no heaven. Or maybe this is pure gibberish- a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found out a way to live out there where the real winds blow- to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested…. Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.” Hunter S. Thompson, ”Generation of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the ’80s”  1988