I am currently reading “Migraine” and it’s a little heavy but fascinating. Having had Migraines off and on it really hits home. There are levels and symptoms to it I never knew but have experienced and am having many A-Ha! moments as I read. It’s a very interesting and slippery condition.
I think this man is amazing, brilliant and original. I want to read An Anthropologist on Mars next, then his book on hallucinations.
Ohhh myyy. Complete eargasm night. I think I just ovulated.
The way Ben’s voice just rumbles… Dear Sweet Baby Jesus…
A word to the wise: Do not (Or do… oh yes, do.) listen to this (glorious…) recording of Benedict’s (sexy…) voice with noise canceling headphones. It is potentially hazardous. To your health… (and your ovaries…)
Sweet Juicy Lord! This is one of my most favorite poems. Read by Mr. Hiddleston it becomes a lyrical seduction. Not gonna lie, got a little hot and bothered.
"As I Walked Out One Evening," W. H. Auden read by Tom HiddlestonAs I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing Under an arch of the railway: 'Love has no ending. 'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you Till China and Africa meet, And the river jumps over the mountain And the salmon sing in the street, 'I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky. 'The years shall run like rabbits, For in my arms I hold The Flower of the Ages, And the first love of the world.' But all the clocks in the city Began to whirr and chime: 'O let not Time deceive you, You cannot conquer Time. 'In the burrows of the Nightmare Where Justice naked is, Time watches from the shadow And coughs when you would kiss. 'In headaches and in worry Vaguely life leaks away, And Time will have his fancy To-morrow or to-day. 'Into many a green valley Drifts the appalling snow; Time breaks the threaded dances And the diver's brilliant bow. 'O plunge your hands in water, Plunge them in up to the wrist; Stare, stare in the basin And wonder what you've missed. 'The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the tea-cup opens A lane to the land of the dead. 'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes And the Giant is enchanting to Jack, And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer, And Jill goes down on her back. 'O look, look in the mirror, O look in your distress: Life remains a blessing Although you cannot bless. 'O stand, stand at the window As the tears scald and start; You shall love your crooked neighbour With your crooked heart.' It was late, late in the evening, The lovers they were gone; The clocks had ceased their chiming, And the deep river ran on.
Well apparently my third house is totally barren in my birth chart. Not a single planet. This house represents logical and conscious thought.
Fuck. Wouldn’t you just know?
Apparently there really is nothing filtering through this bonnet o’ mine.
In this other life I am a creation and creator. I am a comedian. I react and charm and for fucking all that is good and righteous I am fulfilled. There is so much interest in this other life it is impossible for me not be interesting.
Juxtapose to THE life. I am my day job. I make enough money to spend and survive. No more, sometimes less. I am not sure of the path I took, the one I’m on, or ever will be. Moments of interest are my gems. The driving force, and enough to make me roll back the covers one more time.
Nobody told me fucking Rory dies?!? Not cool. Expect more on this later.
Sometimes I want to tell people I love to plain ol’ fuck off. It stops me that they might actually get hurt, when I wouldn’t mean it in any long term or serious manner. I just mean, at this moment you are a giant douche bag.
For roughly a century and a half, the Brontes have been the subject of biographies that, much like poor Branwell’s painting, cover up more than they reveal. When Barker’s monumental family biography of the Brontes was published in 1994, it was as though a skilled restorer had come along to…
This looks super interesting!
I’d like to think I’m the sexiest Virgo born on August 23rd, but I’m afraid Mr. Kelly wins by a landslide.