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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
One Nice Bug Per Day
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Love Begins
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Peter Solarz
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@bluerosepdx
Holla to my city 😩✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾🙌🏿
Why is there a Confederate monument in Seattle,Washington?
^^^ That was my next question. Did Washington state even exist during the Civil War??????
EXACTLY!!!
It DID exist as a territory. And people from WA fought in the Civil War… but none served on the Confederate side…
diy ribbon ornament tutorial:
buy some felt
ask a parent’s permission before using scissors
try really really hard
you did it!
Homemade Pictorial History of Where the Heart Is (2000)
So after 9 straight days of work I finally got a random Monday off. Too tired to accomplish any of my myriad personal goals, but I did have time to watch Where the Heart Is and then spend several hours writing this confusing, poorly constructed, but possibly entertaining post. I strongly recommend re-watching this classic about Wal-mart, no-good men, and corny late-90's country music prior to reading.
NOW THAT YOU HAVE RE-WATCHED, LET US COMMENCE
First things first: I love Natalie Portman.
OK that mullet is its own character. I hope to see it in the credits.This frame of Willie and Mullet takes place shortly before (or possibly right after, it's late) Novalee asks him to feel the beating heart and he says he can't feel it for literally no reason at all except he's the first in a long line of disappointing men this movie will dish up for us.
Is it weird that this is one of the most heartbreaking film moments for me?
Poor Natalie Portman.
BUT I love Stockard Channing. Sister Husband makes her entrance.
Next up: meet Moses Whitecotton. Seriously?! It’s bad enough they have a one-dimensional Wise Old Black Man Character. They have to name him MOSES WHITECOTTON?!?!? I would also like to point out that after Moses tells her she must name her baby something meaningful, she names her Americus, which literally means nothing.
Novalee makes the truly ingenious and respectable decision to live at Wal-Mart, an idea I have tucked away in my personal survival manual for 14 years. Also: I love Natalie Portman.
Meanwhile Jerkface Willie picks up the wrong sexy child on the side of the road. BUSTED. But seriously, movie, that is not a 14-year-old. 17 at least.
Back to Wal-Mart at 5am…. are there no security cameras in 2000??
During a day jaunt out of Wall-Mart Novalee visits the local library where she is roundly verbally abused by the stuck-up librarian. Well fuck your classism, Forney.
Wait what kind of name is Forney? Like Ali Forney? Forney is a last name.
Later in preggerstown.... What how is Forney prowling around the Wal-Mart at the exact right time? He just has a hunch that she’s living there? What a creeper.
NOOOOOO
I NEED DRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGS
This week on Sesame Street....
Seriously tho girl, five is way too common a number to be afraid of. Maybe try 496 instead.
FORNEY-MAN TO THE RESCUEEEEEE
Sorry, my Paint fucked up while I was copy/pasting this picture but you get the idea.
Oh, according to the subsequent hospital scene she lived there six weeks. So he probably saw her several times and noted a pattern. Wait, six weeks?! Seriously, how is Wal-Mart security fucking up this badly?
I love Ashley Judd.
Also do hospitals actually serve bacon? Maybe in Oklahoma.
Sally Field is my favorite person. I rewound her Disappointing Mom scene and watched it again (and by that I mean moved the little bar on the video I illegally downloaded). She’s only in the movie five minutes and I swear she steals the whole show.
Best two lines in the whole goddamn movie: Artificial spermination. Prickifornia.
The president of Wal-Mart gave Novalee $500 in cash? So basically he dug around in his couch cushions for two minutes. What a cheapass.
After making loads of promises Mama Lil must have run to California with that money because she is such a prick.
Sister Husband to the rescue.
These pictures should be switched. Again. Late.
I think this is where the real love story begins.
Meanwhile in jail, I just love this annoyed cellmate face. Also how is Willie still in prison? Fourteen/seventeen year-old didn’t get a chance to dig the money out of his pants before the cops came. What exactly was he charged with?
Best head shot ever.
Back in Novalee's universe: Mr. Sprock is hot. I want him as my late-life partner.
Seriously, if I was Sister Husband I would ask God’s forgiveness for fornicating with Mr. Sprock at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Every day.
I MEAN, THE MAN MADE LINKS.
OMG it’s Wanda from Wishbone as a dowdy evangelist. <3 you, Wanda.
Aaaaand next scene: I would’ve boned him too, Novalee.
#USsexeducation
Novalee's period comes to wash away the hot mechanic. Next we see the crazy woman Forney is hiding above the library. Turns out to be his low-functioning alcoholic sister. Poor noble Forney. Also, he explains to Novalee that Mary was put in a sanitorium “back East” when he was ten. Um, they still had sanitoriums in 1980?
KIDNAPPED BABY
Turns out it was that bitch Wanda.
Forney to the Panicked Mother rescue. Well at least he’s white. #blacklivesmatter
OK scratch that about Sally, Joan Cusack is my favorite person. “You didn’t even have to make that up, did you?”
My name’s Ruth Meyers. Call me Ruth Meyers.
LITERAL* STACK OF QUARTERS OMG.
*No I’m not using literally incorrectly. You were supposed to watch the movie first!
Also one of my favorite scenes.
OMINOUS WINDS
Um WTF is this horror movie called Oklahoma. I could never live there. The main reason would be tornadoes.
NOOOO Sister Husband! I will miss Stockard Channing the rest of the movie.
Immediately thereafter we recover from this heartbreaking loss and prepare to find work in Poto. (?!) Dat Big Gulp doe
Natalie Portman is HOT.
Similarly I would like to take a moment to give a shout out to Ashley Judd’s boobs in this movie. Well done.
THOSE EARS
I think the point of his story is that your ears grow a little every time you drink until they just can't grow anymore and you get to become a probate attorney again.
I’m sorry was $41,000 that much money in 2000? Can you actually build a house with $41,000?
Now that Novalee has a $41,000 house with an umbrella and chocolate milk, we are back in Willie (sorry, Billy Shadow) World. Allow me to restate: Joan Cusack is the Best Person Alive.
Case closed.
Oh God, I forgot about the whole next storyline involving the latest Unforgivable Asshole to enter the movie. This part is not funny. Ashley Judd acts the crap out of it though. Love you, Ashley Judd.
Now alchy sister is dead. Brown roses make you miss a funeral= lifetime of enabling makes you a control freak. www.al-anon.org, Forney.
OK this whole inevitable 15-second sex scene is absurdly sweet and tender. But what is this weird country elevator music playing?
This of course is the penultimate scene in which Forney drops the L-bomb after FIVE YEARS and Novalee SAYS NOTHING. How are you not in love with Forney, Novalee? I am in love with Forney. Give him to me. Of course he is leaving now and taking his broken heart straight back to Bowdoin because evidently you just tell them you want back in ten years later and they say ‘kay.
One of the many fairly pointless scenes that nonetheless make the movie. And MAKES the movie.
Flash-forward Ashley Judd wastes no time making another male decision in Ernie the Exterminator. She explains she knew he was The One because he traded his car for his ex’s daughter. Because that won’t fuck anyone up.
Adorable.
Meanwhile this happens.
Later in the hospital, Legless Willie admits he was able to feel the baby's heartbeat in the eponymous first scene but, apparently, lied out of pure shittiness. "Why does anyone lie? Cause they're scared, or crazy, or just mean. There's a million reasons to lie, Novalee. Sometimes you tell a lie so big it changes your whole life. A lie so big it makes you think, I'd do anything to have one chance to set it straight. Just one chance to change it. You don't know what I mean."
"Yeah. I do."
I will say though I think she would have forgiven you for lying about the heartbeat if you hadn't left her in a parking lot.
BUT no matter because this happens. Well praise Jesus.
I am watching the pics at the end like they’re real people.
ONE LAST CHANCE TO FORNICATE, MR. SPROCK.
WILMINGTON, DE—Over the course of their dinner Tuesday evening at a local bar and grill, area woman Melissa Kowalski, 27, reportedly faced a constant stream of her date’s personal flaws so swift and intense that she could not possibly rational...
This is so accurate it's painful.
Girl Meets Disney
File this under "things as predictable as the crumbling of Iraq:" I just can't watch Girl Meets World. It's so awful. I downloaded the first episode like a champ and only made it six minutes in before I just admitted that it sucked too much to stay up for.
It's the Disneyfication. Boy Meets World was not a perfect show. It had, like, two people of color (the awesome media teacher and Angela, Shawn's girlfriend in the later seasons, who was thankfully a central character). But unlike any other kids show I know of, Boy Meets World actually did interesting stuff with class. Shawn was never a true bad boy (the occasional mailbox bombing and motorcycle stealing antics notwithstanding), but he lived in a trailer park, had these dysfunctional parents, and was bullied for being poor. His background informed the way he saw himself, the world, and other people for the entire show. In the later college-oriented seasons he meets his long lost half-brother Jack who was raised middle-class in the suburbs; Shawn resents his privileged upbringing and it's a major source of conflict between them. (I'm remembering one special moment where Jack is forced to fall asleep to a cassette tape of "The Sounds of the Trailer Park").
Comparatively, Corey had this very sheltered life with nice parents, but their class was examined too. The parents didn't go to college, they married very young, dad had a blue-collar job (well, he was a grocer, does that count?), and there were multiple episodes about upward mobility and class shame as it related to their family. One in particular jumps at me wherein Cory bitches and moans in his usual way about being "average." Dad Mathews very dramatically takes him to an old store in a dodgy part of town and lectures him about how Corey's grandfather swept that floor for thirty years so they could have the privilege of being average. Do you feel shitty about your aspirations yet, spoiled brat???
And finally, as pointed out by some dopey Millennials on NPR, everybody on that show looked like a normal person, with normal clothes and hair. Girl Meets World can never be that because everyone on a Disney show has to have model hair and designer clothes and basically look 1000x better than my absolute best goddamn picture day in middle school. Put simply, Disney is marketing to the coddled rich kid set, and thus everyone on the show must conform to the Teenagers in Tiaras model, where the biggest problem is that you aren't as cool as the other girl with impossibly stiff curled white girl hair (how does hair do that??? i don't understand) who is, like, three notches sassier.
Oh and yeah, NO ONE CAN ACT. Being in the presence of these impossibly beautiful mini-Shatners has even sucked the acting out of Corey and Topanga, which is really just the most unforgivable thing, I mean forget blaspheming the Holy Ghost or Avada Kedavering your mom.
But let's be real, I really hate it because it's missing one special guy.
i hop yr okay gentlewhisp
Scott Bradlee is back with another great vintage cover. This time taking Beyonce’s hit single ‘Drunk In Love’ back in time to the 1940′s with singer Cristina Gatti. Cristina’s great voice and the big band definitely makes this unique cover totally different from the original. Right in the middle, it feels like something is missing then…
Very cool.
We asked twenty strangers to kiss for the first time....
Try to watch without smiling... This shows how very intimate and individualized kissing is, in some ways more so than sex. Sweet awkward people. I vote beanie guy/blonde girl for best, actress/nerdy guy for worst, and may/december for most interesting.
(x,x,x)
you should all see what’s happening in kiev right now
Incredibly haunting. This is a rare opportunity to watch history unfold in another nation.
I'm goin' to Graceland.
True story this review just increased my knowledge of Mark Cohn 300% which is not even something I knew I wanted.
Truer story I saw Marc Cohn several years ago with my mom (because who else) and this is the only song I remember. He is good live, played with the audience, changed up the chords. My mom explained that he used to be a bar singer and now I'm wondering if she was confusing him with Billy Joel.
Sports broadcasts are typically known for their punchy lists of best plays, epic goal countdowns and testosterone-fueled commentary. Which makes Dale Hansen's address Monday night all the more remarkable. The Dallas sports anchor for ABC local aff...
I don't care about football in the slightest but this big white straight good old boy just quoted Audre Lorde. And it's real.
Janet Mock returns to Piers Morgan Live. (x)
My people are everything. Thank you for supporting me tonight. I exist among giants. I love you all.
Janet Mock is incredible and deserves so much better than Piers Morgan.
Watch newcomer Sasheer Zamata celebrate the beginning of Black History Month in the most hilarious way possible.
we say slavery, you say sorry
by Mia McKenzie I’ve often said that it’s not enough to acknowledge your privilege. And, in fact, that acknowledging it is often little more than a chance to pat yourself on the back for being so “aware.” What I find is that most of the time when people acknowledge their privilege, they feel really special about it, really important, really glad that something so significant just happened, and then they just go ahead and do whatever they wanted to do anyway, privilege firmly in place. The truth is that acknowledging your privilege means a whole lot of nothing much if...
Trigger warning: sexual abuse of a child What’s your favorite Woody Allen movie? Before you answer, you should know: when I was seven years old, Woody Allen took me by the hand and led me into a dim, closet-like attic on the second floor of our house. He told me to lay on my stomach and play with my brother’s electric train set. Then he sexually assaulted me. He talked to me while he did it, whispering that I was a good girl, that this was our secret, promising that we’d go to Paris and I’d be a star in his movies. I remember staring at that toy train, focusing on it as it traveled in its circle around the attic. To this day, I find it difficult to look at toy trains. For as long as I could remember, my father had been doing things to me that I didn’t like. I didn’t like how often he would take me away from my mom, siblings and friends to be alone with him. I didn’t like it when he would stick his thumb in my mouth. I didn’t like it when I had to get in bed with him under the sheets when he was in his underwear. I didn’t like it when he would place his head in my naked lap and breathe in and breathe out. I would hide under beds or lock myself in the bathroom to avoid these encounters, but he always found me. These things happened so often, so routinely, so skillfully hidden from a mother that would have protected me had she known, that I thought it was normal. I thought this was how fathers doted on their daughters. But what he did to me in the attic felt different. I couldn’t keep the secret anymore. When I asked my mother if her dad did to her what Woody Allen did to me, I honestly did not know the answer. I also didn’t know the firestorm it would trigger. I didn’t know that my father would use his sexual relationship with my sister to cover up the abuse he inflicted on me. I didn’t know that he would accuse my mother of planting the abuse in my head and call her a liar for defending me. I didn’t know that I would be made to recount my story over and over again, to doctor after doctor, pushed to see if I’d admit I was lying as part of a legal battle I couldn’t possibly understand. At one point, my mother sat me down and told me that I wouldn’t be in trouble if I was lying – that I could take it all back. I couldn’t. It was all true. But sexual abuse claims against the powerful stall more easily. There were experts willing attack my credibility. There were doctors willing to gaslight an abused child. After a custody hearing denied my father visitation rights, my mother declined to pursue criminal charges, despite findings of probable cause by the State of Connecticut – due to, in the words of the prosecutor, the fragility of the “child victim.” Woody Allen was never convicted of any crime. That he got away with what he did to me haunted me as I grew up. I was stricken with guilt that I had allowed him to be near other little girls. I was terrified of being touched by men. I developed an eating disorder. I began cutting myself. That torment was made worse by Hollywood. All but a precious few (my heroes) turned a blind eye. Most found it easier to accept the ambiguity, to say, “who can say what happened,” to pretend that nothing was wrong. Actors praised him at awards shows. Networks put him on TV. Critics put him in magazines. Each time I saw my abuser’s face – on a poster, on a t-shirt, on television – I could only hide my panic until I found a place to be alone and fall apart. Last week, Woody Allen was nominated for his latest Oscar. But this time, I refuse to fall apart. For so long, Woody Allen’s acceptance silenced me. It felt like a personal rebuke, like the awards and accolades were a way to tell me to shut up and go away. But the survivors of sexual abuse who have reached out to me – to support me and to share their fears of coming forward, of being called a liar, of being told their memories aren’t their memories – have given me a reason to not be silent, if only so others know that they don’t have to be silent either. Today, I consider myself lucky. I am happily married. I have the support of my amazing brothers and sisters. I have a mother who found within herself a well of fortitude that saved us from the chaos a predator brought into our home. But others are still scared, vulnerable, and struggling for the courage to tell the truth. The message that Hollywood sends matters for them. What if it had been your child, Cate Blanchett? Louis CK? Alec Baldwin? What if it had been you, Emma Stone? Or you, Scarlett Johansson? You knew me when I was a little girl, Diane Keaton. Have you forgotten me? Woody Allen is a living testament to the way our society fails the survivors of sexual assault and abuse. So imagine your seven-year-old daughter being led into an attic by Woody Allen. Imagine she spends a lifetime stricken with nausea at the mention of his name. Imagine a world that celebrates her tormenter. Are you imagining that? Now, what’s your favorite Woody Allen movie?
An Open Letter From Dylan Farrow, The New York Times (via rubenrobinsons)
We can't get past this. Mustn't.
