person: like a glove

George Harrison, Record Mirror, 15 January 1972

“George [Harrison] has made my difficult life more bearable in material as well as in spiritual ways. With our three young children, my wife and I were living in a cockroach-infested Manhattan tenement at the start of her five-year battle against cancer. But George enabled her to live out her life in rented suburban comfort by giving me a loan of $50,000 that he knew I could never possibly repay. Was that a sort of tribute to his own mother’s losing struggle against cancer? George’s mother, Louise, died of cancer in 1970. To me, George’s $50,000 ‘loan’ was an exhibition of saintliness unequalled by any rock superstar I knew.” - Al Aronowitz, The Blacklisted Journalist, Column Sixty-Two, 1 August 2001 [x]

* * *

“George had been a great friend and bene­fac­tor to my father, repeat­edly res­cu­ing our fam­ily with kind­ness over many years. He even extended his gen­eros­ity to me, on a tough birth­day, when I least expected it.

[…] ‘I have to make a stop before we can go home,’ he [Al Aronowitz] said. His com­ment wor­ried me. My dad would often dou­ble park and leave us in the car, so it wouldn’t get towed away. Some­times we waited for hours. I was instantly relieved when he added, 'We have to stop in and see George.’ We meant he wasn’t going to leave us in the car.

George Harrison’s Hotel on Cen­tral Park South was far less osten­ta­tious than I ‘d expected for a Bea­tle. A door­man guarded the entrance from the icy winds. Dark, wood mold­ing which accen­tu­ated the toasty, warm lobby ran around the floor, ceil­ing, and doors as well as around the two elevators.

The details of his hotel suite, how­ever ele­gant, were insignif­i­cant com­pared to George’s pres­ence. He was so kind that his warmth radi­ated out­ward like the sun. No other celebrity ever took the time to make me feel so spe­cial, as if he felt the same honor being with me, as I felt shar­ing his com­pany. It was my four­teenth birth­day, and I was spend­ing part of my day with the one and only, George Har­ri­son, and it changed every­thing. Just by sit­ting on the lit­tle sofa in his suite, I had for­got­ten how painful it was to see my mother in the hos­pi­tal, or how cold I was from the ugly blue birth­day shirt I’d insisted on wear­ing. In that moment, I didn’t need any­thing else.

That’s when George lifted a brown par­cel tied with hemp twine, onto the glass cof­fee table in front of me. He’d lifted it by a han­dle, made from a wooden cylin­der with thick cop­per wire threaded through the core. The wire looped at each end of the cylin­der, to form hooks, which attached to the twine.

'I heard it’s your birth­day,’ he said.

The words, 'To Brett, Happy Birth­day. Love, George,’ had been writ­ten on the han­dle with a black, felt tip pen.

I was shocked. The detail of that note, writ­ten by his own hand, was enough. The con­tents of this mys­te­ri­ous box didn’t mat­ter as much as the sim­ple fact, that George Har­ri­son cared enough to per­form the pre­med­i­tated act of pur­chas­ing a birth­day gift for me, a fourteen-year-old. His gift meant I mattered.

Care­fully, I opened the pack­age in a state of dis­be­lief, and was aston­ished to find a brand new Bolex 280 Super 8 mm movie cam­era with a macro zoom. To this day, the over­whelm­ing love I felt from him lingers in my cells. George Har­ri­son had become an angel, my angel, and think­ing of him would always make me feel better.” - Brett Aronowitz, “Facing Death,” [xx]

anonymous asked:

Beverly would be ashamed of you.

Will’s throat works.

Beverly … is dead.”   It’s a cold thing to say but it’s a cold truth, and it isn’t said without guilt gripping at his insides. He’s not responsible for Beverly’s death – Hannibal is. But Will is responsible for Hannibal’s current freedom. He tries to ignore the shame that’s become familiar whenever he thinks of Hannibal.

“I’d suggest keeping her name out of your mouth. You didn’t know her.”   And she shouldn’t be reduced to a reason to point fingers, like just another statistic on the board. She was more than just a victim.   “She deserves better.”   He’s just not sure if he’s talking about her name in their mouth, or what he’s doing to bring her death to justice.

Because what he’s doing … sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.


when will i stop hurting over this

George Harrison, photo © unknown.

“George once said to me, ‘I’m in the wrong job. I should have been a gardener really. It took me five years to become famous and 45 years trying to become a nobody.’” - Joe Brown on George Harrison [x]

“I’m not really a career person. I’m a gardener, basically.” - George Harrison, USA Today, 26 January 2001 [x]

Watch on

Update: this is how I draw. (+bonus bloodshot eyes)

Let me send a HUUUGE thank you again for all those who have commissioned me + bought merch + donated and shared my stuff! Getting this tablet is a dream come true and it was your help that made it possible.
And of course the same amount of appreciation goes to my awesome husband, Cam for giving me a financial break and supporting me in achieving my goal. I love you, babe! <3

This is my absolute first time drawing on a Cintiq so I’m still getting used to it. I set up all my hotkeys for PS and I’m trying to memorize them atm. I cannot live without my hotkeys. :’) It’s really weird, really new but it’s also fucking cool!
I really don’t have an excuse for crappy art from now on. :P

“I am not George. I am not really George. I am this living thing that goes on, always has been, always will be, but at this time, I happen to be in this body.” - George Harrison in a Time Out feature by Brian Chase, 19 October 1988 [x]

bartonstrickarrows  asked:

'Like it?' (Clint is giving me the most hateful look right now)

Mara grins at the box and looks up at the archer biting her lip. “You know… if I had to guess I’d say you’d actually taken a liking to me Clint Barton—” she grins as she glides past him into the free room of the cabin. 

She’s not blushing, but her eyes are blown wide. “Fits like a glove—” she says quietly, crooking her finger and gesturing him closer.


Everytime I pull into parking space I say…