#moveable feasts

[emeralddss]

studying at the library and new books <3

[hacknyc]

but paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong, nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.

-- Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

[contremineur]

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

Ernest Hemingway, from A moveable feast (Jonathan Cape 1964)

[kittyp333]

a moveable feast

[cyclogenesis]

✨ per @some-stars request, the F. Scott Fitzgerald part of my review of Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast:

After chapter upon chapter of events ranging from "I went to the cafe to write and an annoying guy talked to me" to "I was hanging out with this famous writer and he was such a dweeb lol, believe me I'm a normal guy myself and very qualified to judge everyone I meet" to "I went to the cafe to write but then got drunk. Crazy that I'm so broke" we eventually got to my favorite part, where Hemingway meets F. Scott Fitzgerald and gets so mad at himself for having the gayest possible feelings a man can have that he just has to be a passive-aggressive bitch about it for several thousand words.

TO BE FAIR: F. Scott Fitzgerald is a manic pixie nightmare girl. He's Kylie Jenner writing the Great American Novel. He's my personal series of exciting-but-horrible Aries situationships/girlfriends that I chased throughout my teens and twenties. He and Zelda saw you from across the speakeasy and they like your vibe. Do you want to have the most bad idea threesome imaginable? It involves a magnum of champagne and screaming at each other until you pass out. That's how they fuck. Yes he just asked if you had sex with your wife before marriage. That was his pick-up line. He is a lunatic. He is Zelda's disagreeable wife. You wish that Scott was your OWN disagreeable wife. He has undiagnosed ADHD and a drinking problem (related?). You are never bored with him. God, you wish sometimes you could just be bored with him. He's asking you to rate his dick. You, Ernest Hemingway, take a look at his dick and give him a fair rating (7.5?). You take him to the Louvre to look at statues of naked Greek and Roman twinks and you're literally like, "maybe you're a grower, not a show-er." You tell him his wife sucks. Ernest you old queen. You butch little TEASE.

F! Scott! Fitzgerald! Sorry, this is all because I'm jealous that Hemingway got to hate himself while flirting with My Most Horrible Boy. And it's here that the book comes most ALIVE, that it becomes ABOUT something other than a broke guy in Paris trying to write a book. Finally, instead of just being about ol' Hem secretly disdaining every person that tries to have a conversation with him, we get Hemingway wanting somebody, wanting their attention and regard and time, and it's a delicious disaster. Scott's a wreck, a disappointment, a drunk; Scott's gorgeous, dazzling, and so full of talent Ernest is SEETHING ABOUT IT. They chase each other like carousel horses. It's a clown show. Scott lovebombs him when he's not too drunk to forget to, and whines about missing Zelda when Ernest won't take the hint and kiss him already.

Something very funny about all this is that at the time Ernest was about 25 years old, and Scott - who Ernest thought of, at the time, as "an older writer" - was all of 28. So it makes sense to me that much of this section reads like an @ Zola-esque Twitter thread combined with a Tana Mongeau YouTube storytime video: Romantic Road Trip with F. SCOTT FITZGERALD?! (The Beautiful and DRUNK! not clickbait!) "Hi guys, welcome to my memoir or welcome BACK to my memoir. Before we get into it, don't forget to like and subscribe, and comment down below to let me know if you'd like more storytimes about me being a deeply repressed bisexual, OR if you want me to vlog the next time I go on a bender with Scott and we DON'T hook up, at least not as far as I can remember. So anyway, I was heterosexually at work on my next adjective-less short story..."

Sorry, I'll stop. Five stars for that entire section of the book, minus one star for the rest of it. Now can someone make a deeply homoerotic film about their relationship, PLEASE.

[uncleweed]

https://nationalpost.com/entertainment/books/ernest-hemingway-depression-anger-plagued-him-until-it-was-time-for-him-to-die

An unmovable beast: How depression and anger plagued Ernest Hemingway until the moment 'it was time for him to die'

'He loved everything up to a certain point, and then nothing was good anymore'

Author of the article:

Robert Fulford

Published Aug 02, 2016  •  4 minute read

Article content

The most famous writer of the 20th century, Ernest Hemingway, had such an eventful life that he created enough myths to keep his story alive well into this century and possibly beyond.

For instance, his renown as a two-fisted drinker led 36 years ago to the creation of an annual Hemingway look-alike competition at Sloppy Joe’s Bar in Key West, FL. This year Sloppy Joe’s showed up on the news because a man actually named Hemingway won, over 119 other shaggy-bearded entrants. Dave Hemingway said he’s unrelated to the author, but shares the same interests: fishing, drinking, women and having a good time.

He and most patrons of Sloppy Joe’s probably take a light-hearted view of Ernest Hemingway’s drinking. According to legend, he was a happy drinker who had a good time with liquor. But in the same week Dave Hemingway was declared best-in-show, Mariel Hemingway was in Miami to give a speech on depression.

She’s the actress who played Woody Allen’s teenage girlfriend in Manhattan, but has become better known in mental health circles as a woman dealing with seven suicides in her family, including her grandfather Ernest, her great-grandfather Ed and her sister Margaux. At age 54, Mariel spends much of her time as a mental health advocate. Last year she wrote her memoirs, Out Came the Sun: Overcoming the Legacy of Mental Illness, Addiction, and Suicide in My Family.

She too has suffered from depression. “I grew up watching a family that was completely amazing and creative but also destructive and self-medicating. All of them, they were addicts.” She was anxious not to emulate her depressed and alcoholic parents. “I’ve chanted,” she said recently. “I’ve done primal scream. I’ve tried to find all the different avenues to create balance.”

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

from A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway 

[litandlifequotes]

We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

[thatwhichdoesnotsuffer]

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

Ernest Hemingway

[dailyquotes6563]

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

[wassupwassuppartypeople]

I think reading about someone’s mundane life and the people in it feels profound and enjoyable when your own life feels devoid of meaning—much like people severed from themselves, reading a cheesy self-help, guru-coded book like The You You Are.

[andrecanales]

where do you want to travel?

[gay-xylophone]

why can’t i fucking think without it hurting

it’s like my brain is being ripped in two every time i try to talk

in other news: i fucking love hemingway right now

[rabbitm00n]

“By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.” - EH, A Moveable Feast

[littleemptyattik]

This week I finished reading “A Moveable Feast” by Hemingway.

My first introduction to Hemingway was when I lived in the town of Pensacola, Florida. On the boardwalk over the bridge, one of the popular restaurants that overlooked the bay was called Hemingway’s Island Grill. Before eating here, I had heard of Hemingway but never had ready anything by him. The atmosphere of the restaurant—and its menu “inspired by Hemingway's thirst for adventure and great food”—made me curious about the man in the photographs on the walls. Then around the same time, I watched the movie “Midnight in Paris,” and I have to say—Corey Stoll did a fantastic job with the characterization; I can see that now that I’ve read this book.

As I read this book, I could understand why the Hemingway’s restaurant chose its theme, and why Stoll portrayed him with the voice and mannerisms he did. This man was a tough one, no question. And as a woman in a different era, I can’t say I admired his treatment of his wife and son in every chapter. His tone is consistently brash and stern and I could sense some pride and self-centeredness in the mix of qualities he expressed. But at the same time, I admired him for other reasons. He was honest, direct, open, straightforward, and nothing he said or did was a mystery or purposeless. When he reminisced, he could acknowledge his failures and weaknesses in the past. And when he spoke about others, he represented them fairly and sincerely according to his own perspective—the good ones he called good, and the bad ones he called bad, and he always seemed to know which was which from the start. He was positive and as untroubled as he could be, speaking of his times of poverty and struggle with casual candor, not expressing fear of the future.

More than that, he wasn’t an unkind man. He was blunt and proud and a cheater, but he supported his friends and emphasized their best features and was patient with them always. (Looking at you, Scott.) My purpose in reading this was to learn about Paris in the 1920s from the perspective of a man who was there. Hemingway wasn’t just there, he was there. He understood the city and the people and the world in a way that was unique to his own mind. And reading this book was like reading his personal journal. It wasn’t a story; it was a decade in a life. And I really enjoyed getting to know this man’s life. Cheers, Ernest. 

[afinickyguide]

episode ninety-four: remarkably moveable rods 🥓🍽️💖