The musings of a schizo twenty something year old who thinks himself a writer/poet/comedian/social commentator. Mixing Vanity with Philosophy, The High Brow with the Kitsch, and the Vintage with the Vogue.
My thoughts and prayers go out to all those families affected
This hits so close to home. I was really disappointed in myself this year for letting my knee injury keep me from training for another marathon. I really wanted to make Boston. But I chose to save my money for Coachella instead of paying for marathons. Man, life can be cruel. But we must have hope.
Look at Marilyn Monroe, about twenty seconds into the clip, when a journalist “asks,” without a question mark at the end of the sentence, “You’re a happy girl now.” The infinitesimal silence that goes with her dubious glance—a tightly controlled eye-roll—away from the interviewer, followed by her ironic verbal shrug (a melodic “uh-h” with a subtly derisive smile), suggests the equivalent of, “You have no idea.” It’s in that sudden abyss of true and horrific emotion in the midst of the most conventionally candied context that encapsulates Monroe’s art—and art it is…