#phoebe waller bridge voice: HAIR IS EVERYTHING!!!

[totally-unshway]

Do you ever think about Kassandra with different hair? Yeah me neither

[wearevillaneve]

What we don't talk about in the KE fandom.

Easily one of the best deconstructions of the repulsive way Killing Eve destroyed the four seasons of goodwill it built up was written by Vulture essayist Angelica Jade-Bastien's "Killing Eve Chose Cruelty". In four words, Jade-Bastien captured why weeks after the last gruesome minutes of the show flickered away from the eyes of horrified viewers it continues to burn and sear into their minds.

The fourth installment to the series, but particularly its last two episodes, demonstrates how far the show has fallen from the dizzying heights of its premiere. Gone is the delicious fashion pivoting on moments of transformation in the manner of fairy tales. Gone is the supremely precise characterization, replaced with a confused internal logic that jockeys the characters according to the needs of its threadbare espionage plotting. Gone is the spry presentation, achieved through blocking, editing, and costume and production design. But most important, gone is the tense cat-and-mouse game between Villanelle (Comer) and Eve (Oh) that acted as the engine. Killing Eve is a study in how jumping from different showrunners each season can leave a series without a profound singular voice — and it is evidence that a shallow understanding of representation and the female gaze isn’t enough to create a memorably good, cohesive story that gives a damn about the women onscreen. It amounted to a finale that gave once perpetually ravenous viewers a paltry version of what they wanted before snatching even that away.

Read the entire essay and it makes you feel better about the nonsensical trash Laura Neal dreamed up one night over too much cheap beer. Jade-Bastien brings up the one problem that predates Neal and the KE fandom hasn't talked about nearly enough.

This is a topic that many in Killing Eve's non-White fandom are well aware of, yet many of their White peers are oblivious to. Racism? In my favorite show? How could that be? Real easy.

The obvious and overt racism of Donald Trump or Kanye West is in your face and it can't be easily ignored. The soft, but pernicious bigotry practiced by the KE writers' room was manifested by keeping Eve an enigma from beginning to end. She was never given a family or life outside of her job, marriage, and the obsession with Villanelle that cost her everything. It's an irritation to know less about Eve than we do about Gemma, Geraldine, or Pam, but that's where we are. Eve was an enigma because she was never written to be anything else. A decision was made by someone to ensure nothing more than the bare minimum would ever be known about Eve. She was given a name and the bare bones of a backstory, and that's all.

For many in the KE fandom the Villanelle solo episode is their absolute favorite. It's one of my least favorites because it made erasing Eve official as Villanelle forgets all about her and so much so in "End of Game" even her name isn't uttered.

KONSTANTIN: I don't think you really want this.

VILLANELLE: I want it!

KONSTANTIN: You know what it means? It means you have to leave everything, the clothes, apartment… and her.

VILLANELLE: I know.

"...and her." "Her" has a name and it is Eve, but to Heathcote that wasn't important. That was a disservice to Sandra Oh, the actress who brought Eve Polastri to life even though she was not allowed to be more than a one-dimensional cut-out of a character. Remember Oh was one of the two stars of the show. This was one of those rare occasions where the titular lead character gets less fleshed out than multiple supporting ones.

That's not accidental. It was deliberate and it robbed Eve of her agency and autonomy. She really was little more than "an Asian woman with amazing hair." Eve was the lone woman of color constantly reacting in a world of Whiteness. Phoebe Waller-Bridge boldly chose to be colorblind in casting Sandra Oh as the very British and very White Eve Polastri and deserves all the credit in the world for it. Unfortunately, when she left she didn't leave any instructions to her successors on what to do with Eve, so they all chose to do nothing. After the show ended some sought to scapegoat Sandra Oh for the lousy last season stating as an executive producer she must have approved the direction the show went when Suzanne Heathcote and Laura Neal became the lead writers. Nobody knows how much input Oh had into the writer's room, but if she did that means she went along with a noticeable drop in screen time and the complete absence of a backstory for Eve. It's hard to believe any actor would deliberately reduce their own role in just the third season of a show, but that's exactly what some KE fans believe Oh did. They're the same ones who say Villanelle needed a stand-alone episode to explore her history, but have no issue with Eve being devoid of a past. This isn't racism in the Killing Eve fandom. Most of the fans don't show up that way. What they do instead is fail to notice how little Eve there frequently is in Killing Eve. It's not necessarily racism, which is bad, but it is erasure, which isn't good.

[thatbritishactor]

Adventures in Success (part 10)

Adventures in Success (part 10)

Paring : Ben Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Ben’s agent is retiring and the firm wants you to represent him. It’s going to be hard for you not to mix work with feelings.

Warning: None, language (cursing).

Words: 3,300

Type :  Fluff

Part 1     Part 2       Part 3       Part 4       Part 5      Part 6    Part 7   Part 8  Part 9

I.

You’ve been officially dating for two months, but it feels like you’ve been together for longer. You’ve met all of Ben’s close friends, and you’ve introduced him to a few of yours. You’ve had to deal with feelings of betrayal on their part: how dare you keep your relationship a secret for so long? You’ve been scolded and met with incomprehension, but as soon as they met him, they were instantly enthralled by him. Ben knows how to win people over: his effortless charm, wits and kindness conquer everyone around him.

You still spend most of your time at his place, finding it unbearable to be away from him. Thankfully, he seeks your company as much as you seek his, and time flies by when you’re together. It’s taken a toll on your work, you’re not as dedicated as before, and your boss is starting to notice. Before, your job came before everything else. You worked an average of fifty hours a week, dividing your time between script reading, meeting your actors, callings producers and casting directors.

Today, Ben comes before your work, even before your friends. You know that some of it isn’t healthy, and that you shouldn’t prioritize your relationship over everything else. But you can’t resist him, and you’re at your happiest when you’re with him. He seems to struggle as well, avoiding castings, not reading as many scripts as he used to. Whenever you start to get anxious about it, you quickly dismiss it, one glance at Ben is enough to dissolve all your fears. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and you intend to hold onto and fight for your relationship with everything you’ve got.

By the end of November, Ben has to leave for London, and the heart ache induced by your imminent separation keeps growing. You’ve spent the better part of a year wanting him so badly it hurt you, and now that you finally have him, you can’t imagine how you’re going to be able to go back to a life without him.

Your feelings for him scare you, for they seem to get stronger every day. You thought that you were already done for when you weren’t even dating him, but it’s getting even worse. Somehow, waking up next to him every day is even better than what you had ever imagined. Although, you know that this is the easy bit: the honeymoon phase. The part where you love everything about the person you’re newly dating and can’t imagine ever picking a fight with them. You know that someday, his flaws will get to you, and that you’ll find him annoying. But today, you just can’t imagine that you’ll ever come to hate anything about him.

Sure, he’s a distracted person. He forgets things, he daydreams a lot, and he’s a people pleaser. Something inside him pushes him to accommodate everyone around him, and you can see that it might trigger your insecurities someday. But for now, you simply adore him, and you want to indulge in those feelings as much as possible. You’re incredibly nervous about the upcoming separation: Ben has to be in London for at least four months, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it. You’ve come up with a plan though, but you haven’t told him, wanting to surprise him.

The night before his departure, you’re lying in bed with him, tightly pressed against his chest. He places soft kisses on your forehead, and you can feel the regular pounding of his heart, lulling you to sleep.

You’re tired and your eyes close by themselves, but you refuse to drift away, because when you’ll wake up, you’ll have to take him to the airport, and you’ll be apart -again- for months. You’ve realized that apart from your anxiety, it’s the separations that pose the biggest threat to your relationship. But this man is so worth it, you think, his fingers slowly caressing your bare back; you’d do anything for him.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” he murmurs, and you sigh, closing your eyes and rubbing your nose on his chest.

“No… I don’t want to sleep” you lie, and Ben chuckles.

“I can see you’re totally falling asleep, love” he says, and your heart misses a bit at the term of endearment. You haven’t told him you love him yet, although the words are demanding to escape your lips. You haven’t loved anyone the way that you love him, and your feelings for him are so obvious, it’s embarrassing. Something’s keeping you from uttering the words though: the fear that it’d scare him away. You’ve been together for two months, it’s too soon. You’re so deathly afraid of losing him, you don’t completely allow yourself to surrender to your feelings yet.

Ben calls you love though, and sweetheart, sometimes dear, and it’s the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, making you melt into a puddle every time. You wonder if he wants to tell you he loves you too, but you dismiss the thought, distracted by Ben moving against you.

“All right, I’m shutting the light” he says, and you lift your head to protest.

“Nooooo” you whine, and he laughs, his arms holding you impossibly closer to him.

“What is it?” he asks, “I can see that you’re incredibly sleepy.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep, because I don’t want to be tomorrow” you reply, and you bury your face against his chest to hide your face. He sighs and rubs his cheek on your hair, and you raise your head to meet his dark eyes.

“I know, me neither” he admits, and you can hear the longing in his voice.

“It sucks” you reply, and he gently pushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“Tell me about it” he replies, pensive.

You let go of him and lean back, and he slowly lets you go, looking curious.

“At least you’re going to meet Phoebe Waller Bridge” you say, trying to change the subject, resting your head on your hand.  “I’m so jealous” you add.

Ben smiles, his eyes soft, and your heart clenches in your chest. He’s eerily beautiful, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to that. He takes your breath away twenty times a day, and you still can’t believe that you’re the lucky woman who gets to be with him.

“Want me to ask her stuff?” he asks, his beautiful black eyes appraising you.

“I’d have to write it down” you joke “I have so many questions for her”.

“Go ahead” he replies, sliding a hand through his hair. “I’ll ask her.” He says with a smirk on his lips.

“You’d do that for me?” you mock in a high voice, putting a hand on your chest and dramatically batting your eyelashes.

Ben lets out a laugh “Anything for the one I love”, he replies, and you instantly stop breathing. Ben doesn’t seem phased at all, getting back to slowly caressing your arm, his eyes following the movements of his fingers, while your voice is stuck somewhere in your throat. When the silence thickens, he glances back at you, frowning.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, seeming worried.

You blink stupidly, a lump in your throat.

“Y… yeah” you reply, lowering your eyes, your heart beating fast in your chest.

“C’mon, I know you by now” he sighs “I know when something’s bothering you” and there is that smile again, the one that could make snow melt.

“You’ve just said you loved me” you mutter, putting a hand over your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. He laughs again, before placing a hand on the side of your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for a year now, don’t tell me this comes as a surprise” he says in an incredulous voice, and you close your eyes, unable to handle the storm of emotions overwhelming you.

When you open them again, he’s still gazing at you, the softest expression on his face, and you lean in to kiss him.

“I love you too” you whisper against his lips, and his hands cup your face before they slide in your hair. You roll on your back, his weight on top of you, your heart seeming to burst in your chest.

II.

It’s become a ritual now: you play the music from Bo Burnham’s Inside in the morning while you’re both getting ready, and the two of you sing along to the soundtrack, knowing each song by heart. You’ve made the coffee and helped him finish packing his suitcase, something he’s told you before he struggles with. Being an organized, neat person, you secretly love packing and tidying things up, so you’re thrilled to help him. Ben has joked about you being perfect for each other, your orderliness completing his messiness, and you’ve laughed, pretending to be chill about it, ignoring your accelerated heartbeat and the warmth spreading in your chest. He could ask you to marry him right then and there, and you’d accept immediately. You’re so done for, you think to yourself, rolling your eyes as you watch him slide his backpack on, wearing his usual cap and sunglasses.

You sing in the car, and he teases you when the song “Sexting” comes on, taking you back to the time you got drunk and sent it to him. You were embarrassed at first, blushing and hiding your face away, before owning it and deciding that it was unintentional sure, but a badass move nevertheless.

The ride to the airport goes fast, and you hold hands while you walk through LAX. You’re less skittish than before about public displays of affection, thinking that if the world must find out about your relationship, so be it. You’ve lost so much time before because of your insecurities, you’ve promised to yourself that you wouldn’t let anything get in the way from now on. Ben registers his bags, and you arrive at the security gates when he turns over and holds you tightly in his arms. You hug him back, feeling like your heart is getting crushed with a hammer, struggling with yourself not to cry.

“It’s four months”, you say against his chest, “We can do this”. He nods and cups your face with both hands, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land?” he asks, looking uncertain.

“Yes, please” you reply, oddly out of breath. You stare into his deep obsidian eyes, your hands resting at his hips, and he leans in to kiss you. You close your eyes, surrendering to the soft feelings of his lips moving against yours, silently wishing for time to stand still.

“All right, I have to go” he whispers against your lips, and you smile, nodding.

“I love you” you breathe, looking back into his eyes, and he grins, making your heart drop in your chest. How is it possible for a person to be that beautiful? This should be illegal, you think to yourself, frowning.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he replies, and he kisses you one more time before he lets go of you, squeezes your hand, and turns over to go through the gates.

You stand there for a few minutes, your heart pounding hard in your chest, the sounds of the airport muffled around you before you find the strength to go home.

III.

“You wanna do what?” Rebecca asks, looking puzzled.

“I’ve been in touch with actresses in London for a few weeks now, and I think that I should go meet them to try and win them over” you explain, straightening your back against your chair.

You’ve asked for a meeting with your boss this morning, eager to submit your plan to her. You’ve been thinking about it for a while, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t accept the fact that Ben’s departure for London had been the incentive.

Although your agency is always looking for new talent, and you’re currently managing some of the hottest British talents in Hollywood, you know that they’d trust your judgement.

“Which actresses?” Rebecca asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Michaela Coel and Daisy Edgar Jones” you reply without breaking eye contact.

Rebecca arches her eyebrows, seeming impressed, before she purses her lips and turns a bit to glance out of the window.

“Honey, you know that you’re one of our most successful agents” she starts, and you brace yourself, knowing that a “but” is imminent.

“But I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed distracted lately” she adds, looking back at you.

You look away, crossing your legs, feeling uneasy. Yes. You can’t deny that.

“I know, I’m sorry” you reply honestly, knowing that lying wouldn’t take you anywhere.

“You know that I try and pay no mind to gossip” Rebecca says, the ghost of a smile dancing on her lips “But I couldn’t help but notice that ever since you dropped the Barnes account, you’ve been a little… elsewhere”, and she looks into your eyes, a kind expression on her face. You try not to blush, a warm feeling spreading over your chest, and you decide not to reply anything.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for you” she says, still smiling “And Andrew was more than happy to take over as his agent.” You nod, not knowing where this is going.

Rebecca takes a breath and straightens her back before she leans against her desk, joining her hands.

“You were working too much before, anyway” she says, “But I’m wondering if taking new actors would be the right fit for you right now”.

“Oh.” You reply, taken aback. “I see.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d never say no to new clients, especially the ones you’ve approached. Promising, promising new talent, these two.” She says pensively, looking away.

“I know that I’ve been distracted lately” you start, wanting to be sincere “But I’m genuinely excited to meet them, and I know that I’d be the right fit for them”.

Rebecca glances back at you: “Are you sure? You already have a lot on your plate” she replies, seeming skeptical.

“Perhaps I just need fresh accounts” you venture, “Something new and exciting”.  

She stares at you for a moment, searching your expression.

“You know what” she starts “Go to London, try and broach them, and if you succeed, we’ll find a way to make this work” she proposes.

“Deal” you say, offering her your hand, and she shakes it.

“You’re going to London” she says gleefully.

“I’m going to London” you reply, smiling widely.

IV.

Ben was more than thrilled when you announced that you’d meet him in a month, impressed by your scheme. He told you that it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him, and you had blushed and put your face in your hands, shaking your head.

“You don’t think that it’s stalky or creepy?” you had asked, watering your plants while you were talking to him on the phone.

“I mean, it totally is” Ben had laughed “But if it means that I get to see you, I don’t care” he added, and you hummed in agreement, distracted by the fact that you’d soon be in his arms, where you seemed to belong now.

December went fast, and you were glad that Ben was his family to celebrate Christmas. You’d fly two days before New Years Eve, and you’d meet Michaela on January second, and Daisy the next day. You’d spend a total of seven days with Ben, and you couldn’t wait.

You arrive Sunday morning in London, feeling tired and jetlagged, but seeing Ben’s face at the arrival gates fills you with more joy than you have ever experienced before. He joins you in quick strides and grips you tight, exhaling loudly and snaking his arms around your waist; raising you in the air like he had done months ago, before you had admitted your feelings to each other. You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately, you heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

“God, I’ve missed you” he says against your lips, putting you back gently on the ground, his hands moving from your hips to your face.

“Tell me about it” you reply, out of breath, staring into his beautiful eyes.

“Ready to explore the city?” he asks, smiling widely.  “Or do you want to go back to my place and get some sleep?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You think for a split second, blushing a bit “I mean… We’ll have time to chill later” you reply, “Let’s do some sightseeing” and you smile widely.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you tenderly.

“I’m up for anything as long as I’m with you” you say, shrugging, and you know that the answer is beyond cheesy, but you’re unable to restrain yourself. He chuckles and gently pokes your nose with his, and you distinctively feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“First, an English breakfast” he says, and you wince, dreading the British food “Then, let’s be tourists” he says, and he kisses you gently. You sigh, melting under his touch. He’s worth enduring British food, for sure.

Ben takes you to the Naval Royal College in Greenwich, wanting to show you the Painted Hall. It’s known as the British Sistine Chapel, and he plays the tourist guide again, like he had done in Venice. You hold hands throughout the whole visit, stealing kisses and being amazed at his extensive knowledge of art history.

“Did you research all this to impress me again?” you ask, teasing him. Ben rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Of course, I did, what’d you expect?” he replies, kissing your cheek, and you giggle, endeared.

He shows you the Millennium Bridge, asking if you want to go inside St Paul’s cathedral, but you’re starting to feel a bit tired from all the walking and the flight.

“All right, one more place I want to show you, and then you’ll take a nap” he suggests, and you nod, reaching for his hand to hold. You walk for fifteen minutes when you reach a pretty street, and you enter what seems to be a park with a church in it. You frown, perplexed, when you finally see why he’d want to take you there. The church is in ruins, vegetation growing everywhere. It looks beautiful and romantic, and you understand why Ben wanted you to see it so badly. You walk among the ruins, gasping at the shady trees and the quietness of the place. It doesn’t seem like you’re in the heart of the busy city, the place looks magical with the sun setting in the distance.

“Oh, this is so pretty” you whisper, and Ben takes you to a bench for you to sit. He throws an arm around your shoulder, and he places a kiss on your temple.

“This place reminds me of you” he says quietly, and you look at him, surprised.

“How so?” you ask. He seems to ponder for a while before he replies.

“It makes me feel safe, quiet, like nothing else exists.” And his voice is soft, making your stomach clench. You blush, feeling overwhelmed. What did you do to deserve him again? This is crazy, you think to yourself, looking away, feeling crushed with too many emotions.

“What is it?” he asks, still gazing at you.

“I’m just tired” you reply, and you put your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply and closing your eyes.

“What’s our plan for New Year’s?” you ask, opening your eyes. Ben has teased you before that he had a plan but wanted to surprise you. You feel him chuckle and look up at him.

“I was thinking… It might be time for you to meet my parents” he says easily, and your heart stops in your chest. You look at him, your breath shallow, and Ben laughs at your expression, seeming satisfied with himself.

“It’ll be alright, Love” he says, caressing your hair. “I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Heyyyy heyyyyy!!!! Look who’s updating after two months ?? It’s meeee.

Hope you like this part, it’s just pure fluff. I want them to be happy and to explore the next step of their relationship.

Tell me your thoughts and feelings about this ? It might inspire me to write part 11 !!

Byeee <3

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[firstfullmoon]

what are some quotes that are so visceral they feel like a gut punch to you?

“A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.”

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”

— Ilya Kaminsky, “A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck”

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat, what to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, and who to love, and how to tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong.”

— Phoebe Waller-Bridge, from Fleabag

“Les femmes de notre famille, nous sommes engluées dans la colère J’ai été en colère contre ma mère Tout comme tu es en colère contre moi Et tout comme ma mère fut en colère contre sa mère Il faut casser le fil.”

(The women in our family are all stuck in anger I have been angry at my mother As you are angry with me And as my mother was angry at her mother The thread must be broken.)

— Wajdi Mouawad, Incendies

“I know what I want: an ugly, clean woman with large breasts, who tells me: what’s all this about making things up? I won’t have any dramas, come here immediately!—And she gives me a warm bath, dresses me in a white linen nightdress, braids my hair and puts me to bed, very cross, saying: well what do you want? you run wild, eating at odd times, you could get sick, stop making up tragedies, you think you’re such a big deal, drink this mug of hot broth. She lifts my head up with her hand, covers me with a big sheet, brushes a few strands of hair off my forehead, already white and fresh, and tells me before I fall asleep warmly: you’ll see how in no time your face is going to fill out, forget those harebrained ideas and be a good girl. Someone who takes me in like a humble dog, who opens the door for me, brushes me, feeds me, loves me severely like a dog, that’s all I want, like a dog, a child.”

“I can feel myself holding a child, thought Joana. Sleep, my child, sleep, I tell you. The child is warm and I am sad. But it is the sadness of happiness, this appeasement and sufficiency that leave the face placid, faraway. And when my child touches me he doesn’t rob me of my thoughts as others do. But later, when I give him milk with these fragile, beautiful breasts, my child will grow from my force and crush me with his life. He will distance himself from me and I will be the useless old mother. I won’t feel cheated. But defeated merely and I will say: I don’t know a thing, I am able to give birth to a child and I don’t know a thing. God will receive my humility and will say: I was able to give birth to the universe and I don’t know a thing.”

— Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

“I know that my phrases are crude, I write them with too much love, and that love makes up for their faults, but too much love is bad for the work.”

“I’m restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me. I just don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my flesh.”

“But when winter comes I give and give and give. The excess of me starts to hurt and when I’m excessive I have to give of myself.”

— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

“And that was what I felt when reading your book: that solitude.” “Imagine the solitude of the person who wrote it.”

— Clarice Lispector, from an interview

“suppose the body did this to us, made us afraid of love—”

— Louise Glück, “Crater Lake”

“When I put my hands on your body, on your flesh, I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake, but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency, leaving a gleaming skeleton, gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight, the way your flesh occupies momentary space, the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures, to reach up around my neck, to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

— David Wojnarowicz, from The Half-Life

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

— Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

“and cain said, There’s an idea I can’t get out of my head, What’s that, said abraham, There must have been innocent people in sodom and in the other cities that were burned, If so, the lord would have kept the promise he made to make to save their lives, What about the children, said cain, surely the children were innocent, Oh my god, murmured abraham and his voice was like a groan, Yes, your god perhaps, but not theirs.”

— José Saramago, Cain

“I’d like to jet-ski / straight out of this life because right now I am / way attached to real things like for instance / people how they are all so tender how they / love to just go walk around and someof them are / wearing pink now and it hurts me and they / bathe their dogs”

— Heather Christle, “This Is Not The Body I Asked For”

“The idea of deserving love. And then watching love being given to people who did nothing to deserve it.”

— Anaïs Nin, from her journal

“And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tendernesses, of fondnesses, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last, of believing a parent’s reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“The veals are the children of cows, are calves. They are locked in boxes the size of themselves. A body-box, like a coffin, but alive, like a home. The children, the veal, they stand very still because tenderness depends of how little the world touches you. To stay tender, the weight of your life cannot lean on your bones.”

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

“I know we’ve just met but I feel like maybe / you’d feed me and tuck me into your big bed / and only touch me as you covered me with the comforter.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Party”

“The body has no thoughts. The body soaks up love like a paper towel

and is still dry.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Body And Soul”

“I don’t know how God can bear / seeing everything at once: the falling bodies, the monuments and burnings, / the lovers pacing the floors of how many locked hearts.”

— Kim Addonizio, “The Numbers”

“I keep wishing for you, keep shutting up my eyes and looking toward the sky, asking with all my might for you, and yet you do not come. I thought of you, until the world grew rounder than it sometimes is, and I broke several dishes.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Minnie Holland

“The unknowness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit

“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”

“As for myself, I am splintered by great waves. I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered. I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED GENOCIDE TO STOP I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED AFFIRMATIVE ACTION AND REACTION I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED MUSIC OUT THE WINDOWS I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED NOBODY THIRST AND NOBODY NOBODY COLD I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED I WANTED JUSTICE UNDER MY NOSE”

— June Jordan, “Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.”

“Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night I should go downstairs dump the refrigerator contents on the floor and stand there in the middle of the spilled milk and the wasted butter spread beneath my dirty feet writing poems writing poems maybe I just need to love myself myself and anyway I’m working on it”

— June Jordan, “Free Flight”

“It’s not that I gave away my keys. / The problem is nobody wants to steal me or my / house.”

— June Jordan, “Onesided Dialog”

“What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”

— John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos

“I wept and wept. I had come to believe that if I really wanted something badly enough, the very act of my wanting it was an assurance that I would not get it.”

— Audre Lorde, from “Zami: A New Spelling of my Name”

“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. / Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

— Shauna Barbosa, “GPS”

“It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way. (...) To make up for it. To make up for the fact that it’s me.”

— Suzanne Rivecca

“I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love. I said no more severity. I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad.”

— Richard Siken, Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper

“We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

— Richard Siken, “Snow And Dirty Rain”

“Love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's / terrifying. No one / will ever want to sleep with you.”

— Richard Siken, “Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”

“The hardest thing still remains. It remains the hardest, to bear all the tenderness and only to gaze on.”

— Ilse Achinger, “Mirrorstory”

“i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.”

— José Olivarez, “Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains”

“Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes the men - they come with keys, and sometimes, the men - they come with hammers.”

— Warsan Shire, “The House”

“I’ll take care of you. / It’s rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— Euripides, Orestes, tr. Anne Carson

“We have this deep sadness between us and it spells so habitual I can’t tell it from love.”

— Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband

“There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is.”

— Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays

“I wish I could peel all my sadness in one long strip off my skin & toss it in a bucket. No one would have to carry it. It would just sit there & be punished. It would just sit there & think about everything it’s done.”

— Chen Chen, “Elegy For My Sadness”

“There is too much or not enough room in my stomach for everything we will do to each other.“

— Adriana Cloud, “Bento Body”

[dynamics-of-an-asteroid]

Dont suppose you have a copy of the interview you could share?

For you, dear anon~

His Dark Materials: Andrew Scott on life after Fleabag and Sherlock

We’ve loved him as both Fleabag’s Hot Priest and Sherlock’s menacing Moriarty. Now, he’s back on our screens in the new series of His Dark Materials. Polly Vernon talks to our TV crush

Andrew Scott is mortified. The actor – formerly Moriarty to Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, then the Hot Priest of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag, imminently Colonel John Parry in the BBC’s adaptation of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials – arrives at the photographic studio, bang on the appointed hour, in a fawn cashmere cardigan with a fine gold chain around his neck, bemoaning “this terrible, terrible eye infection, which is making me so self-conscious. I’m so sorry. It isn’t that you’ve massively upset me before we’ve even started. It’s so annoying. But anyway…”

Scott, 44, is small, vivid, wiry and garrulously Irish, with a face that is not handsome so much as mesmerising, intense, sharply boned, symmetrical, startlingly expressive. Sequences of emotions so subtle and complicated that I can’t begin to identify or keep up with them ruffle his brow from moment to moment. And, yup, the whole thing is rather disrupted by his left eye. This is no light kiss of conjunctivitis. It’s a swollen, red, perma-weeping situation that engulfs the whole socket. Scott turns his face two thirds on to me, so the infection is largely hidden, which would probably help if we weren’t sitting in a brightly lit hair and make-up room with a massive, inescapable mirror fixed to one wall. “Oh God,” Scott says every time he catches sight of his reflection.

Stress?

“Let’s be honest,” he says. “Let’s not skirt around the issue. It’s being overworked and…” Scott’s eye begins weeping. “Oh my goodness. I am so sorry. Really, really very sorry.”

Wanna wear my sunglasses, I ask, holding them out to him.

“That would be a bit more weird, wouldn’t it? I actually did think about that in the taxi, but I thought that would be some sort of weird and screwed Invisible Man-type thing. I mean, it couldn’t be worse. And then we have to go and get our photograph taken. It’ll be one of those pictures where, you know, those creepy pictures… Of people crying?”

That’s what Photoshop’s for, I say.

“Anyway. Let’s just ignore it.”

I wonder if it’s particularly hard to walk around with an eye infection at a point in time where you’re not merely famous, as Scott is – a star of stage, screen and Bond film, winner of multiple awards, including, as of barely two weeks ago, a Best Actor Olivier for Present Laughter at the Old Vic – but specifically famous for being sexy.

In 2019, Andrew Scott became synonymous with, well, sex. While playing a character technically known as the Priest, whom the general public instantly renamed the Hot Priest, the spiritual support turned transgressive love interest of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s supremely popular Fleabag, Scott became a cypher for the nation’s more exotic desires. A deliciously contentious pin-up. Ground zero on an earnest social media debate about whether the Priest’s relationship with Fleabag should be considered abusive, power imbalanced, “problematic”. And that was just for starters.

The Priest’s sexual iconography extended far beyond the limits of the show, becoming the subject of internet memes and real-life merchandise (visit online retailer Etsy for your £12 Hot Priest mug emblazoned with an illustration of Scott in priest’s robes, alongside the word “kneel”, a reference to a pivotal moment between the show’s lead characters, which takes place in a confession box, the climax of which, assuming you haven’t already seen it, you could probably take a stab at). There was an unprecedented upsurge in young worshippers, and women started bombarding social media “influencer” the Rev Chris Lee of west London with nude photographs. There was much foetid fan fiction.

To be publicly defined by so much sex, as Scott still is, a year and a half after Fleabag concluded, and then to be encumbered by something as visibly unsexy as an eye infection, I can see how that might make a chap self-conscious.

Scott isn’t here to rake up all that old Hot Priest stuff, mind. He’s here to talk about the second series of His Dark Materials, a lush, expensive fantasy drama based on the Philip Pullman books, jewel in the crown of the BBC’s autumn schedule. The series was filmed through 2019 and the beginning of 2020 and had all but wrapped before lockdown. Good timing, as it turned out, because the extensive post-production processes, unlike shooting, could be completed in isolation.

Scott’s Colonel John Parry is an explorer, the missing father of the central character, 14-year-old Will Parry. He’s a man who slipped into a parallel universe some years earlier, acquired a “daemon” – an exterior animal-formed expression of his soul, a female osprey called Sayan Kötör, voiced with public-pleasing symmetry by Phoebe Waller-Bridge – and never found a way back to “our” world and his son. I speak as a fan of the books, which you might describe as a darker, existential response to Harry Potter, although honestly? They’re better than that. The show is great, a deft, rewarding interpretation, and Scott is an exciting prospect as Parry.

Did he jump at the part?

“I did, actually. It was definitely something I was into. We were doing a play and it seemed like a fun thing to do.” Scott is one of those who slips into the third person when speaking about himself in a professional capacity.

Had he read the books?

“Yeah,” he says. “I think they’re extraordinary. The truth, but told on a slant. I love the way Pullman tells children about spirituality or religion in such an extraordinary, intelligent way. He doesn’t speak down to them. He talks to children’s souls.”

Given that Pullman effectively kills off God through the course of the books and Scott’s a lapsed Irish Catholic who has suffered his share of shame on account of the church’s grip on his homeland (more on which shortly), I’d imagine Pullman’s books talked to Scott’s adult soul too.

Presumably, he didn’t have to audition. Presumably, he never has to. Too famous for auditions?

“No,” he says. “Although I’ve always thought auditioning is a pretty good thing to do.”

Why?

“Because you’re able to understand, ‘Oh, this is the vibe here.’ You think, when you’re an actor, you don’t have much choice, but I’ve always felt like auditioning is a good opportunity for you to go, ‘Oh well, I don’t much like you either. I think you’re dreadful!’ ”

I don’t care that you didn’t give me that part?

“Yeah.” Scott becomes playfully, theatrically defiant. “I don’t care!” He flicks aside an imaginary rejection with a churlish hand.

Will John Parry and His Dark Materials be enough to eliminate all residual overtones of Hot Priest sexiness from Scott? Maybe. He is a fine actor, no question, entirely transformed from role to role. I saw him play Paul, a narcissistic, fame-addled touring rock star, at the Royal Court in 2014 in Simon Stephens’ Birdland, back when his deeply sinister Moriarty weighed almost as heavily on Scott’s reputation as the Hot Priest does now. I’d watched him become someone else entirely on stage. “Oh, you saw that?” Scott says, pleased.

I quote, “Am I cancer?” at him, his defining line from the play, as evidence.

“Oh Jesus. Oh f***ing hell. Oh my. I’d forgotten that line. ‘Am I cancer?’ ”

The Hot Priest association hasn’t left him yet, which is why I find myself asking what it’s like to be the very definition of sexiness.

“You get invited to more parties.”

Better parties?

“Yeah.”

Better than during his Moriarty phase?

“Definitely.”

It must be fun to find yourself le dernier cri in sexy, according to the whole nation.

“Yeah, that’s fun,” he says. “I didn’t really like being associated with scary. It’s not what I’m interested in being, in life, being intimidating to people. It’s not part of my nature, whereas being sexy to people…”

That is part of his nature?

“Well, they’re very different things.”

They’re both about having power over people.

“I suppose they are, yes.”

So did Scott, bored of scaring people, say to Phoebe Waller-Bridge, writer and star of Fleabag and a long-term friend (they met in 2009 while starring in Roaring Trade at the Soho Theatre), “Write a role for me that will make everyone think I’m just really, really sexy now”?

“That’s such a good belt. Are they two ‘Gs’?”

“Exactly.”

——————————

Andrew Scott is not the easiest interview. He’s utterly charming. Really, just a delight. In between prostrating himself for the offence of his eye and apologising for not turning up the first time we were scheduled to meet (ten days earlier; a delayed Covid test result meant he couldn’t make it), he ensures I have a good time in his company. He is playful. He makes me laugh. His every utterance is delivered as a grand performance. (“Shhhh! Just… Shhhh!” he implores, placing a finger against his lips while expressing frustrations over the mindless jabber of social media, and he does it so powerfully, he compels me to be quiet, breathlessly to await delivery of his next line.) He finds elegant ways to flatter me. He laughs at my jokes and is terribly taken with my belt.

Yeah. For Gucci.

“Oh. Ha ha! I thought it was the Golden Globes. I love the Golden Globes. Ha ha!”

And of course, he’s Irish. Clichédly, melodiously Irish, which makes everything sound softer and jollier than it might otherwise.

As for the actual business of being interviewed, of answering straight questions with straight answers, finishing off sentences, offering more than a slip-slide of vagaries punctuated by vigorous hand gestures, none of which translates into print? He’d rather not.

He tells me, as he’s told other journalists before, this is because he’s interested in navigating the line between “privacy and secrecy”, then says he’s aware he’s sometimes “got away with secrecy under the guise and respectability of privacy”, as if signalling potential incoming slipperiness, which means I prepare to throw every trick in the book at him.

First up: amateur psychology.

Might Andrew Scott’s gayness be at the heart of his reluctance to speak more freely? Perhaps. This is no scoop. He’s been out for almost as long as he’s been famous. “I mean, as a civilian, I was quite young [when I came out], you know? But then, as a celebrity…”

He tails off, allows me to fill in the blanks. This is another of his evasion tactics. I can’t very well quote Scott on the presumptions I make about things he never quite says.

He had to have another coming out?

“Yes. And I have another one coming up.”

He has another coming out coming up?

“Yeah.”

So that will be, what? Tier 3 gayness?

“Tier 3, yeah.”

Scott grew up in Ireland at a time when it wasn’t legal to be gay, which could certainly seed an enduring reluctance towards carefree openness in a person. He invokes the concept of shame more regularly than the average interviewee. He was born in Dublin in 1976 to Nora, an art teacher, and Jim, who worked at an employment agency. He has one older sister, Sarah, and a younger one, Hannah.

He was shy, so started attending a children’s drama course.

Did that help?

“Yeah. Acting to me is not pretending to be someone else. It’s more like, this is who I actually am. The lie that tells the truth,” he says. I am none the wiser. He was clearly talented. He went from adverts to his first starring role in a film aged 17 (Korea, directed by Cathal Black), won a bursary to art school but took a place at Trinity College Dublin to study drama instead, and ditched that six months in to join Dublin’s Abbey Theatre. He’s been gainfully employed in the field ever since.

How Catholic was his upbringing?

“Well, there were Catholic priests in my life,” he says. “None of whom I wanted to have sex with.”

Does it amuse Scott to know he inspired a mass fetishising of priestly ranks? That in 2019, the Hot Priest would make, “Can you have sex with a Catholic priest?” one of the most googled terms of the year?

“Absolutely f***ing mental,” he says.

Homosexuality wasn’t legalised in Ireland until 1993, when Scott was 16.

“I always think, if I’d had a boyfriend then, which I definitely did not…”

No?

“No.”

He knew he was gay, though?

“No. No, no, no, no!”

Was he suppressing it or not thinking about it?

“I would say suppressing. Definitely suppressing. I don’t believe people just don’t think about it.”

An upbeat, cheesy jazz remix of something or other starts playing outside the room.

“Oooh, this is the soundtrack for this bit of the interview,” says Scott. He wiggles his shoulders to the music.

I switch to strict dominatrix interviewer mode. Focus, I say. You were about to tell me something good.

“Oh, shit, was I? OK. I think what’s really insidious is that people don’t ask you about sex or… People wouldn’t say, ‘Are you gay or are you [straight]?’ And the lack of directness is very damaging. They just didn’t go there.”

Does he think his family, friends, the people closest to him knew then that he was gay?

“No,” he says. “I don’t think they did know. Or maybe they have a suspicion, but they think, I want to be respectful, so I’m not going to ask about that. Then [when you do come out], people say, ‘Oh, I’m glad.’ You know? If you do talk about it. So I suppose what I feel now is, talking about sex or sexuality is important. Really important.”

Having said that, “There’s still getting rid of the shame. In a situation like this, 10 or 15 years ago, I would have been…” He fakes shock, horror. “Oh no! Polly’s just asked me about [he switches to a whisper] that.”

Scott will talk about his sex life only notionally. No specifics. For 15 years, between 2001 and 2016, he was in a relationship with the actor turned screenwriter Stephen Beresford (Scott starred in Beresford’s 2014 film Pride). Ever since, he’s refused to answer questions about his romantic life.

And he’s not going to talk about it now, I presume.

“No.”

What if we talk about it opaquely?

“OK.”

Where does he see himself, domestically, in an ideal world? Married with kids whom he’ll, I dunno, adopt or have via surrogacy?

“I like it. It’s bold. Am I going to adopt or…?”

Get a surrogate?

“I definitely think that’s something I would be open to.”

Great, I say, with blatant sarcasm. Thanks. How specific.

“Ha! I’m sorry. OK. Have I got any children at the moment? No. How can I… [explain]? OK. I was with a friend of mine in Dublin…”

His partner?

“No, no, no. Not my partner. Ah ha. I see what you were…”

Teasing. Yes.

“Ha! Yes. So, I was with a friend in Dublin and we were walking around and he was looking at apartments and I was like, ‘What about this place here?’ You know? And he said, ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Why not?’ and he said, ‘I don’t live a heteronormative life, so I don’t want a heteronormative house.’ ”

What’s a heteronormative house?

“Two up, two down thing. He goes, ‘I can live in a loft or a weird space. I don’t need those things.’ He was so proud of it. He really owned it. I think where a lot of one’s pain comes from is when you go, ‘I should want that.’ And so, to answer your question opaquely, I have kids I adore. I love children, genuinely, and I had a very happy childhood. But I also feel, if I don’t have kids, that’s all right. I think I would’ve attached a lot of shame beforehand, with not living a particularly heteronormative life… Even with being gay, there’s a sort of way of being gay that’s acceptable. And I don’t feel that any more.”

He feels you can be unacceptably gay?

“Exactly. Exactly!”

I ask when shame shifted for him and Scott says it was when Ireland voted overwhelmingly in favour of same-sex marriage in the 2015 referendum, which felt, he says, “like acceptance, genuinely. And I remember going out to this gay bar in Dublin and this girl came up to me, this cool Dublin girl, and she said, ‘What are you doing here? You need to go down to, I don’t know, blah, blah, this bar in some park.’ She was saying, ‘This isn’t the right gay bar for you. This is some shit gig,’ when the fact I’m in a gay bar in Ireland [at all] is a miracle to me, and then some person with a half-shaved head is telling me, ‘No, you need to go somewhere cooler.’ ”

His left eye starts weeping again.

“I’m so happy about that,” he says. “Even though I’m crying.”

I ask Scott if he has a game plan when picking roles, if he plots his course from Sherlock villain to Bond quasi-villain (he played Max Denbigh in Spectre) to sex icon, and, if so, what next? “No. Jesus, no,” he says.

We talk about the totalitarianism of social media, which he isn’t on, and share a mutual despair over it. “I thought it was something one would associate with the right, but actually, now it’s [the left] that is very ‘you’re this’ or ‘you’re that’. I find that quite frightening. It actually makes me feel ferocious.”

Is he not worried about being cancelled, of somehow saying the “wrong” thing, according to Twitter sensitivities, then having a thousand voices mobilised against him, demanding his firing, in the style of JK Rowling?

“I’m not,” he says. “I refuse to be. A very intelligent person I was talking to recently was writing a book and he said, ‘I’m going to get a sensitivity expert to have a look. I don’t want to get cancelled.’ I found that frightening.”

Is he rich? “Rich is the absence of worry about money,” he says. He can’t remember the last time he worried about money.

That must be nice.

“Of course it f***ing is. I think it’s a miracle. I really do. I was working in a French theatre in London for nothing – none of us was working for anything – and I remember the artistic director of the theatre talking about the fact we weren’t earning any money as some sort of virtue. I remember feeling really annoyed about that, like this isn’t good.”

This leads to an inevitable conversation about how the arts are suffering with Covid, including a segue down the Fatima route, the much shared government advert that depicted a young ballerina and suggested she retrain in something called cyber. “Her name’s not even Fatima,” Scott rails. “I think she’s called Desire’e. From New York.”

I mean to ask him about his experience of filming The Pursuit of Love with Lily James and Dominic West, stars of their own recent off-screen micro-scandal in Rome, just in case he lets any scurrilous insight slip, but our time’s up and it’s not as if Scott has much form on offering up scurrilous insight anyway.

Still, I feel grateful to him for meeting me halfway on the other stuff. And so I say goodbye to Andrew Scott, the UK’s foremost gay heterosexual lapsed Catholic faux-priest lust icon with a troublesome eye infection.

[itsonlycody]

Cody’s Top 15 TV Shows of 2016

I'm trying to keep introductions short this year. I don't need to go on again about we're in a new golden age of television, there's too many shows, etc. There's a lot of good TV out there and nowhere near enough time to watch all of it. These are the shows from last year I felt were worth making time for.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Mirror, Love, Silicon Valley, Orange is the New Black, Speechless

15. Game of Thrones (HBO)

After a somewhat lackluster fifth season that struggled to adapt the slowest, most aimless books of it's source material, Game of Thrones was back in top form for it's sixth year by finally passing George R.R. Martin in his story. As a result, the show felt fresher and more exciting than it has in a long time. After years of build-up, we finally begin to see signs of the end game for the many characters of Westeros. The show delivers it's usual thrills, with deaths both heartbreaking and satisfying, breathtaking visuals, epic battles, and solid acting across the board. One of the elements that makes this past season stand out is the heavy focus on the female characters of the show. After seeing hours of abuse and terror heaped upon these women, we finally see deep, complex characters like Sansa, Arya, Cersei and Daenerys regain their power and take action. While Game of Thrones initially seemed to be a story portraying the realistic yet poisonous power of men in charge appears to be the story of brave, determined women rising up and overtaking their oppressors.

Best Episodes:

“Home”, “The Door”, “The Winds of Winter”

14. The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story (FX)

Between this and the fantastic documentary, O.J.: Made in America, O.J. Simpson was surprisingly everywhere in 2016, and with good reason; despite the progress we've made over the past few decades, there is still an undeniable race problem in America. Ryan Murphy's miniseries highlights how little has changed in the past 20 years in regards to how black people are treated by the police and the media. I envisioned the worst when I heard Murphy was telling this story, imagining all of his worst campy tendencies being indulged while portraying the media circus that was the O.J.trial. Instead, we got a gripping, in-depth look at the lives of everyone involved in the case and the struggles they faced, most effectively seen with a trio of outstanding performances by Sarah Paulson, Courtney B. Vance and Sterling K. Brown as the attorneys prosecuting and defending the Juice.

Best Episodes:

“From the Ashes of Tragedy”, “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia”, “Manna From Heaven”

13. The Good Place (NBC)

The high concept sitcom has made a bit of a comeback in the past year, with shows like The Last Man On Earth and People of Earth taking ambitious, heavily serialized stories and reformatting them into a half-hour hangout comedy format. The Good Place is set in the afterlife and follows Eleanor Shellstrop (Kristen Bell, in her best role since Veronica Mars), a fairly bad person in life mistakenly sent to the titular "good place" after her untimely death. With the help of her assigned soulmate, Chidi (William Jackson Harper, a true stand-out), she attempts to become a better person and earn her spot in The Good Place. That premise provides a decent amount of material to do a decent "good deed of the week" format. Instead, creator Michael Schur and his team of writers (many from Schur's Parks and Recreation) constantly keep the story moving with twists and revelations arising on a near weekly basis. The Good Place is the rare sitcom that came out of the gate strong, and is still running strong with a hilarious cast (including Ted Danson, still as charming as he was in his Cheers days), smart storytelling, and a lot of heart and mind.

Best Episodes:

“Pilot”, “The Eternal Shriek”, “Most Improved Player”

12. Westworld (HBO)

There's not much more I can say about what is probably the most heavily discussed show of the year. Some complained about the heavy emphasis on mystery, with an abundance of teases about the true nature and motivations of the Hosts and employees that populate Westworld. While it's true the show occasionally got a bit lost in it's puzzle box narrative, it's hard to deny that Westworld is just flat-out entertaining with one of the best ensembles on television. Evan Rachel Wood and Thandie Newton give the show it's heart with performances that are alternately heartbreaking and chilling, often in the same scene. Jeffrey Wright provides a wonderful moral center for the story, giving the character of Bernard a quiet thoughtfulness that makes the occasional bit of necessary exposition compelling. Then there's Anthony freaking Hopkins, who even in his late 70s gives a masterclass in true acting and is riveting every second he's on screen. While the first season of ultimately feels like a bit of a prologue for what's to come, it's a damn good prologue; one that leaves me very excited to see what's next.

Best Episodes:

“The Original”, “The Adversary”, “Trompe L’Oeil”

11. Fleabag (Amazon)

This British import pulls a bit of a bait and switch on viewers; it starts out as a raunchy comedy about a young woman struggling to get her life together, albeit a very funny one with a striking central performance by writer Phoebe Waller- Bridge. However, by the end of the first episode, and with each consecutive episode, Waller-Bridge reveals the dark, sad heart at the core of the series. Fleabag takes the convention of the rude, promiscuous 20-something that we see on so many cable comedies and really digs into the person underneath; what makes this person act the way they do and make the choices they make? Yet, the show never judges Waller-Bridge’s character, even if she judges herself. The show also boasts a solid supporting cast with brilliant character details. The central relationship between Waller-Bridge’s character and her sister is one of the better sibling relationships on TV, and no character goes wasted; a character present in one short scene at the beginning of the series ends up unexpectedly returning, and providing some of the most poignant, revealing moments in the story. There has been no word yet if Waller-Bridge will bring back Fleabag, but we can only benefit from hearing more of her unique voice.

Best Episodes:

“Episode 1″, “Episode 4″, “Episode 6″

10. Full Frontal With Samantha Bee (TBS)

2016 was a rough year. The nightmare circus that was the election, and it’s results, left a lot of people feeling drained, upset, and uncertain of where the country would be heading in the near future. Many comedy shows that deal in political satire seemed unsure of how to tackle the rise of Trump. Late night hosts such as Seth Meyers, John Oliver, and Trevor Noah went for an angle of frustrated disbelief, while Saturday Night Live was unsure what comedic approach to take after providing an unfortunate spotlight for the Donald the year before. Jimmy Fallon took the approach of goofing around with him and tousling his hair. Enter Samantha Bee. The former Daily Show correspondent could not have been given a better time to get her own show. Bee needed no time to settle into her host role, instead giving the sense of anger and outrage that many people felt about everything happening in the political sphere. She took on topics such as the Syrian refugees, gun control, abortion, and both the Republican and Democratic parties with blunt honesty and empathy. The laughs came from pointing out the hypocrisy and absurdness of the election, and from just needing a release of the extreme tension we were experiencing. Just beginning it’s second year, it looks like Full Frontal will be around for a while, and it’s a good thing; as the political landscape looks as if it is going to only get worse before it gets better, we need someone like Samantha Bee to help us through it more than ever.

Best Episodes:

“Cleveland”, “Republican National Convention”, “President Obama”

9. Veep (HBO)

When creator Armando Iannucci left Veep after Season 4, there was concern that the show would lose the hilarious bite that came with Iannucci’s razor sharp dialogue. Thankfully, new showrunner David Mandel maintained the show’s quality in it’s fifth season, bringing what may be the show’s best year yet. Julia Louis-Dreyfus was as perfect as ever as Selina Meyer works to win over congress when her presidential election ends in a tie. As great as Louis-Dreyfus is, the whole ensemble really makes Veep work, with Timothy Simons’ Jonah and Sam Richardson’s Richard being highlights, and Sarah Sutherland getting a much welcome increase in screentime as Selina’s daughter films a documentary and gets in a new relationship. The season built wonderfully to a genuinely surprising conclusion that promises an entirely different show when it returns. In a time when real world politics seem like satire, Veep continues to provide a hilarious alternative.

Best Episodes:

“Mother”, “Kissing Your Sister”, “Inauguration”

8. Better Call Saul (AMC)

A Breaking Bad spin-off was always going to have a lot to live up to. Following one of the most popular shows of the past decade was tough enough, but making the focus of that spin-off a relatively minor supporting character used primarily for comedic relief? It seemed destined to be a mess, but the first season gave a surprising amount of depth to the man who would become Saul Goodman. In it’s second year, Better Call Saul truly finds it’s voice. Less reliant on the action and tension of it’s parent show, Saul instead plays as a slow motion tragedy, as we watch Jimmy (in a wonderfully layered performance by Bob Odenkirk) struggle to do the right thing, all while knowing he is doomed. Michael McKean continues to be as good as ever as Jimmy’s manipulative brother, and Rhea Seehorn gets a much appreciated larger role as Kim, the one person who could possibly pull Jimmy back from the brink of corruption. Those who enjoy the more thrilling, gritty style of Breaking Bad will enjoy the continued presence of Mike Ehrmantraut, who at times seems to be in his own, equally good series as he navigates the Albuquerque crime world and comes across some familiar characters. The journey of Jimmy McGill into Saul Goodman can only grow worse, but it will surely make the journey for those watching all the more captivating.

Best Episodes:

“Rebecca”, “Nailed”, “Klick”

7. BoJack Horseman (Netflix)

The best comedy about depression starring a cartoon horse maintained it’s wonderful mix of hilarious absurdity and dark truth in it’s third season, as BoJack works the award circuit for his leading role in the Secretariat biopic. The show expands it’s experimental streak with an episode set entirely in 2007 (complete with reminders of the time), one with almost no dialogue, and a drug bender episode with chunks of the story missing. Will Arnett as BoJack rivals his work as Gob Bluth for the best performance of his career; he is able to play BoJack’s pain and sadness just as well as his arrogance. Additionally, Aaron Paul and Paul F. Tompkins show new depths to the primarily jokey characters of Todd and Mr. Peanutbutter. Despite all of the adult animated comedies out there, BoJack Horseman feels like something new and original. It uses it’s medium to do things a live-action show could not do, but still is able to find a deep, emotional truth.

Best Episodes:

“Fish Out of Water”, “It’s You”, “That’s Too Much, Man!”

6. Atlanta (FX)

One of the ideal goals of any story being told is to transport you and let you witness a life that you don’t encounter in your everyday life. This could mean going to space or entering a world of magic and fantasy. In some instances, however, it simply means learning more about people you see every day, who are still underrepresented by most modern media. In interviews for Atlanta, show creator/star Donald Glover said he wanted viewers to experience what it felt like to be black. Atlanta itself ends up being a captivating, surreal and empathetic show that is really unlike anything I’ve seen before. Glover plays Earn, a young man in Atlanta who’s essentially homeless; after learning that his cousin, Alfred (Brian Tyree Henry), has a rising rap career, he offers to become his manager in order to support himself and his daughter, as well as proving himself to his daughter’s mother, Van (Zazie Beetz). That set-up provides plenty of opportunities for a weekly grounded series. Instead, Glover makes Atlanta a show that exists in a slightly different world; where Justin Bieber is black and where an entire episode is a talk show from a fictional black entertainment network, complete with fake commercials. Despite the bizarre touches Glover adds, Atlanta is also achingly realistic; Earn’s constant struggle to make money and provide for his family, and all the detours in that journey, from dealing with Alfred’s public reputation to sudden bursts of gun violence, provide a melancholy touch along with several hilarious setpieces. That mix of the sad, strange, and comical is what makes Atlanta so unique and what makes Glover’s voice so essential.

Best Episodes:

“Streets On Lock”, “Value”, “B.A.N.”

5. Halt and Catch Fire (AMC)

In it's first season, Halt and Catch Fire was fine, if flawed; a ­look at the '80s computer industry that occasionally leaned too heavily on the moody antihero trope that had grown so tired. It held just enough interest with it's strong performances and a promising narrative shift towards the end of the season. In Season 2, the show took a huge leap forward as it shifted the central focus to it's female characters, Cameron (Mackenzie Davis) and Donna (Kerry Bishe), while revealing the weak, sad nature if it's male protagonists, Joe (Lee Pace) and Gordon (Scoot McNairy). In it's third year, the quality of Halt and Catch Fire continued to skyrocket, turning itself from a very enjoyable series to one of the best dramas on television. A location change to Silicon Valley give things a renewed sense of energy. All four leads are given roughly equal screentime, but have evolved so much that all of their stories are equally captivating. Joe MacMillan is still devious and cunning, yet Pace reveals more of the wounded, insecure man underneath. As Gordon struggles with both his brain damage and his career aimlessness, McNairy beautifully plays the pain and frustration Gordon is feeling. Davis is as terrific as ever as Cameron stubbornly tries to keep control of her company, and Bishe continues to show new layers to Donna as her opportunities rise and increase. As the season progresses, the characters have to make some tough decisions, and with the writing and performances have grown so strong, it leads to some truly stunning and heartbreaking dramatic sequences that occasionally rise to the level of Mad Men. AMC was kind and smart enough to give Halt and Catch Fire time to find it's identity. The ratings remained low, but they stuck with it, including an opportunity to finish out it's story with a final season this year. When the show started, I didn't think I would care so much to see where these characters end up. After a stellar third year, I'm not quite ready for them to leave yet.

Best Episodes:

“The Threshold”, “NIM”, “NeXT”

4. The Americans (FX)

There's not much more I can say about The Americans in it's fourth season than I did in it's first, second, or third season. The spy family drama gets better and better each year, both in content and as a payoff to everything that came before. Stories that have been building up since the very beginning of the series continue to pay off, showing how expertly The Americans plays the long game. That long game is reflected by it's performances. Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys give Elizabeth and Philip a consistent tired, beaten down in their performances. All of the horrible decisions and actions they have chosen to take over the years are starting to show, turning the excitement and vigor of their early adventures into a struggle just to make it through the day. That weariness extends to the people surrounding them, with Holly Taylor's Paige and Alison Wright's Martha getting significantly increased roles. Paige's story in particular makes quite an impact. On most prestige dramas, from The Sopranos to Breaking Bad to Homeland, the teenage character is usually seen as an annoying distraction from the main action. With The Americans, that character not only becomes essential to the main narrative, but manages to be sympathetic and just as captivating as the main characters we've been following for the series. While The Americans has never been talked about as much as some cable dramas, it's easily on the same level. With each season, the Jennings family grows more and more fascinating as their lives and relationships grow more and more fractured.

Best Episodes:

“Chloramphenicol”, “The Magic of David Copperfield V: The Statue of Liberty Disappears”, “Dinner for Seven”

3. Horace and Pete (LouisCK.net)

Louis C.K. is a comedian and storyteller who is a master of the unexpected. His brilliant stand-up features constant reversals and punchlines that sneak up on you with brutality. When given his own HBO series, C.K. went against expectations and made a Norman Lear inspired sitcom filmed in front of a studio audience.  His second series, Louie, challenged the idea of what a half hour comedy could be, featuring a highly cinematic style, stories that spanned several episodes, and episodes that were primarily dramatic at times. His latest series, Horace and Pete, took everyone by surprise, in many different ways. It arrived completely unannounced; one Saturday morning, those subscribed to C.K.'s mailing list received an email with a link to the first episode on his website. Viewers were treated to what amounted to a 67 minute filmed play (complete with intermission) with a dark, dramatic tone and an impressive cast, including Steve Buscemi, Edie Falco, Jessica Lange, and Alan Alda. As the weeks went by, a new episode would be released, ranging from 30 minutes to a little under an hour, and could be almost anything. Some episodes dealt with current political issues and featured references to news events from recent weeks. One was one long conversation between C.K.'s Horace and a previously unseen character played by Laurie Metcalf, opening with a nine minute monologue solely framed on Metcalf. Horace and Pete features some of the best writing of C.K.'s career, reaching depths of extreme sorrow while still remaining his dark, vulgar wit. It helps that he has such a solid cast performing his words; Alda shows a side of himself that has almost never been seen, and Buscemi plays Pete as wounded live wire, constantly captivating you with his every moment on screen. One of the most impressive things about Horace and Pete is that it's a complete story. The 10th episode provides a definitive ending. It's hard to think of many artists who would create a show in secret, release it without it any notice, and then end it, and move on, but that kind of creativity is what makes Louis C.K. one of a kind.

Best Episodes:

“Episode 1″, “Episode 3″, “Episode 10″

2. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (The CW)

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend seems like a tough sell; a musical comedy with a potentially alienating title and a penchant for awkward moments. As the theme song notes, however, "The situation is a lot more nuanced than that." Co-Creator and star Rachel Bloom (along with co-creator Aline Brosh McKenna) is well aware of the troubling tropes of romantic comedies, and uses her show to deconstruct the elements of these types of stories while still embracing their more engaging elements. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend has honestly been an eye-opening experience for me. There are so many tropes and narrative choices in romantic stories, be it a major plot point or even just a throwaway joke, that have become so commonplace, we often overlook the implications of what it's implying. The writers call out these moments head-on, with Bloom's Rebecca sometimes halting a scene to question an offhand comment. It's honestly made me look at certain types of storytelling in a completely new light. Aside from the more thoughtful aspects, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is also flat-out hilarious and entertaining. The comedy is so sharp, with quality jokes coming at a rapid pace. The songs (written by Bloom, Adam Schlesinger, and Jack Dolgen) are terrific, playing as clever satires of popular music both old and new, while still holding up as smart, catchy original songs. The show has also developed a great stable of supporting characters, running jokes, and callbacks, making the show's setting of West Covina feel like a fully realized place. Nearing the end of it's second season, Bloom & McKenna have pulled no punches, unafraid to completely change the narrative and dynamics of the show at a moment's notice. It's this bold inventiveness that makes Crazy Ex-Girlfriend truly special, and, yes, nuanced.

Best Episodes:

"That Text Was Not Meant For Josh!", "When Will Josh See How Cool I Am?", "When Will Josh and His Friend Leave Me Alone?"

1. Stranger Things (Netflix)

This is a really predictable choice for my #1 show if you know me well. It pretty much hits all of my genre interests. A coming-of-age/sci-fi/horror show set in the early '80s that feels like Stephen King by way of early Steven Spielberg with a bit of John Carpenter and Freaks and Geeks mixed in. It would be very hard for me not to love Stranger Things at least a little bit. My anticipation was through the roof before it debuted, and thankfully, it did not disappoint. I understand the complaints of some. Yes, at times, it leans a bit heavily on it's influences, but to those who say people's enjoyment of the show comes solely out of a warm sense of nostalgia, I have to disagree. Yes, it's kind of cool to be reminded of the movies that The Duffer Brothers pay homage to, but Stranger Things really succeeds with it's characters, particularly it's young leading cast. Visual references can only go so far (and did for some), but the story would hold no weight if not for the talent and charisma of Finn Wolfhard, Gaten Matarazzo, Caleb McLaughlin, Noah Schnapp, and especially Millie Bobby Brown. The kids have an instant rapport, and as the season progresses, you really grow to care for them; you want them to be happy and grow tense when they are in danger of getting hurt, both physically and emotionally. The adult cast holds their own as well; Winona Ryder does some of her best work in years as the emotionally distraught Joyce Byers, and David Harbour embodies the gruff, heroic leading man perfectly. Yet the smaller episode order doesn't restrict the growth of the characters. Even supporting characters like antagonistic Steve (Joe Keery) get a full arc, and minor characters like concerned friend Barb (Shannon Purser) and teacher Scott Clarke (Randall P. Havens) make an impact. The Netflix format suits the show very well, neatly structured and moving along at an exciting pace, yet not overstaying it's welcome at 8 episodes. By the end of the first season, the stories have closure while still leaving much more to be told in the future. I realize Stranger Things isn't the most revolutionary show out there. It doesn't tackle serious issues and embraces it's genre themes and influences wholeheartedly. However, there was no other show in 2016 that I had a better time watching; each episode felt like an event, and left me theorizing and anxious to find out what would happen next. Sometimes that's all you need with a story, and Stranger Things delivers.

Best Episodes:

“Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers”, “Chapter Three: Holly, Jolly”, “Chapter Eight: The Upside Down”

[firstfullmoon]

sorry if this has been asked before, but what are your favorite quotes about (romantic) love?

• “I love you. I want us both to eat well.” 

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shriek”

• “You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

— Shauna Barbosa, from “GPS”

• “August. We were arguing. You want love to be like this every day don’t you? 92 degrees even in the shade.”

“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”

“If love is going to be done differently I will have to do it. I don’t mean as a messiah-thing, I mean as a me-thing. I want to look into your eyes and not get blown up. I want you to see me as I am and not destroy me. I don’t want to retreat into plant life, or have the same bad dream every night. I don’t want to watch a city burn because I was there.”

— Jeanette Winterson

• “I’ll take care of you. / It’s rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— from Anne Carson’s translation of Orestes

• “I think of you all the time and therefore have little to say that would not embarrass you, for instance my first feeling about the rain was that it was like you.”

— John Cage, from a letter to Merce Cunningham

• “I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.”

— Maggie Nelson, Bluets

• “I want to be a village full of sweethearts, / as you are, every second of the day, / cooking me soups & drawing me pictures / & holding me, my inexplicable & elephant sadness, / with your infinite arms. / But isn’t it true, you are not / always why I am happy. & I promise / it is true, you are almost never why, / why I am sad.”

— Chen Chen, from “Elegy for My Sadness”

• “Look here Vita—throw over your man, and we’ll go to Hampton Court and dine on the river together and walk in the garden in the moonlight and come home late and have a bottle of wine and get tipsy, and I’ll tell you all the things I have in my head, millions, myriads — They won’t stir by day, only by dark on the river. Think of that. Throw over your man, I say, and come.”

“I always have such need to merely talk to you. Even when I have nothing to talk about – with you I just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it. I invent it for you. Because I never seem to run out of tenderness for you and because I need to feel you near.”

“I could only think of you as being very distant and beautiful and calm. A lighthouse in clean waters.”

“What can one say — except that I love you and I’ve got to live through this strange quiet evening thinking of you sitting alone. Dearest — let me have a line… You have given me such happiness…”

— Virginia Woolf, from letters to Vita Sackville-West

• “I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone. I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it.” 

“Please, in all this muddle of life, continue to be a bright and constant star. Just a few things remain as beacons: poetry, and you, and solitude.”

— Vita Sackville-West, from letters to Virginia Woolf

• “Love is awful. It’s awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do. It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught if we’re born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.“

— Phoebe Waller-Bridge, in Fleabag

• “i carry your heart with me(i carry it inmy heart)”

— e.e. cummings, from “[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]”

• “There was once a very great American surgeon named Halsted. He was married to a nurse. He loved her-immeasurably. One day Halsted noticed that his wife’s hands were chapped and red when she came back from surgery. And so he invented rubber gloves. For her. It is one of the great love stories in medicine. The difference between inspired medicine and uninspired medicine is love. When I met Ana I knew: I loved her to the point of invention.”

— Sarah Ruhl, The Clean House

• “oh god it’s wonderful / to get out of bed / and drink too much coffee / and smoke too many cigarettes / and love you so much”

— Frank O’Hara, from “Steps”

• “This morning there’s snow everywhere. We remark on it. You tell me you didn’t sleep well. I say I didn’t either. You had a terrible night. “Me too.” We’re extraordinarily calm and tender with each other as if sensing the other’s rickety state of mind. As if we knew what the other was feeling. We don’t, of course. We never do. No matter. It’s the tenderness I care about. That’s the gift this morning that moves and holds me. Same as every morning.”

— Raymond Carver, from “The Gift”

• “Well Marianne, it’s come to this time when we are really so old and our bodies are falling apart and I think I will follow you very soon. Know that I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine.”

— Leonard Cohen, in a letter to Marianna Ihlen

• “I think about love on a scale from 1 to 10. Most of us find a 6 or a 7, and that’s why we have divorce. It’s the truth. We settle for that 6 or 7. But I like to think Kevin is Chiron’s 10. He’s found that and he realizes that there’s no reason to settle for a 6 or a 7 because, “I know this person is my 10. Whether or not this person believes I’m his 10, I’m going to devote my life to this person entirely.” That’s why the line where he says, “You’re the only man that’s ever touched me,” for me, was the most amazing, most beautiful thing I’ve seen in cinema, period. Because that’s what we strive for as people, to find that one person because they’re there. If Kevin doesn’t feel that they should be together, Chiron is just going to die a miserable person because that’s his person and he won’t settle for anything else.“

— Trevante Rhodes about Moonlight

• “I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world”

— Frank O’Hara, from “Having a Coke with You” but the whole poem is !

• “The door slammed and someone came home and low voices could be heard, the single lilt of a question as it rose, “How was it?” or “Are you hungry?” Something plain and necessary, yet extra, with care, a voice like those tiny roofs over the phone booths along the train tracks, the ones made from the same shingles used for houses, except only four rows wide—just enough to keep the phone dry. And maybe that’s all I wanted—to be asked a question and have it cover me, like a roof the width of myself.”

— Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

• “I keep wishing for you, keep shutting up my eyes and looking toward the sky, asking with all my might for you, and yet you do not come. I thought of you, until the world grew rounder than it sometimes is, and I broke several dishes.”

— Emily Dickinson, in a letter to Minnie Holland

• “I don’t want you to be nervous. Maybe thinking of a walrus would help. Have you seen the video of the penguin accidentally stepping on a sleeping walrus? It thought it was a rock. The walrus wakes up like what the fuck and the penguin scurries off like oh shit. Sometimes it’s funny watching a surprise happen, and not just funny but kind of amazing — like, you never really know what’s what when it comes to this planet.

Then again, when it’s you getting surprised, that’s different. Especially for tender ones like us. What are we supposed to do? It’s bad for our hearts, you know. I hope you won’t need pills like I do. I think I get so scared because I’m greedy — I want to hold onto everything, the world wants to take it away. What the fuck. The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.”

— Mikko Harvey, “For M”

• “Willem sleeps on the left side of the bed, and he on the right, and the first night they slept in the same bed, he turned to his right on his side, the way he always did, and Willem pressed up against him, tucking his right arm under his neck and then across his shoulders, and his left arm around his stomach, moving his legs between his legs. He was surprised by this, but once he overcame his initial discomfort, he found he liked it, that it was like being swaddled. One night in June, however, Willem didn’t do it, and he worried he had done something wrong. The next morning–early mornings were the other time they talked about the things that seemed too tender, too difficult, to be said in the daylight–he asked Willem if he was upset with him, and Willem, looking surprised, said no, of course not. “I just wondered,” he began, stammering, “because last night you didn’t–” But he couldn’t finish the sentence; he was too embarrassed. But then he could see Willem’s expression clear, and he rolled into him and wrapped his arms around him. “This?” he asked, and he nodded. “It was just because it was so hot last night, Willem said, and he waited for Willem to laugh at him, but he didn’t. “That’s the only reason, Judy.” Since then, Willem has held him in the same way every night, even through July, when not even the air-conditioning could erase the heaviness from the air, and when they both woke damp with sweat. This, he realizes, is what he wanted from a relationship all along. This is what he meant when he hoped he might someday be touched.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

• “No, I didn’t imagine my being alone with you the way you do. If I want the impossible, I want it in its entirety. Entirely alone, dearest, I wanted us to be entirely alone on this earth, entirely alone under the sky, and to lead my life, my life that is yours, without distraction and with complete concentration, in you.”

— Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer

• “If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would.”

— David Wojnarowicz, The Half-Life

• “I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell, I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

• “If Moses had seen the way my friend’s face blushes when he’s drunk, and his beautiful curls and wonderful hands, he would not have written in his Torah: do not lie with a man”

— Rabbi Yehuda Al-Harizi/Judah Ben Solomon Harizi

• “I’ll rob the bank that gave you the impression that money is more fruitful than words, and I’ll cut holes in the ozone if it means you have one less day of rain. I’ll walk you to the hospital, I’ll wait in a white room that reeks of hand sanitizer and latex for the results from the MRI scan that tries to locate the malady that keeps your mind guessing, and I want to write you a poem every day until my hand breaks and assure you that you’ll find your place, it’s just the world has a funny way of hiding spots fertile enough for bodies like yours to grow roots. I hope our ghosts aren’t eating you alive. If i’m to speak for myself, I’ll tell you that the universe is twice as big as we think it is and you’re the only one that made that idea less devastating.”

— Lucas Regazzi, from “Small”

• “I thought she was sleeping until I heard her call out from across the room, “Will you bring me a glass of water?” I did. Then in her always-sleepy tone and drawl she said, “Do you remember when you were a little girl and you would ask your mama to bring you a glass of water?” Yeah. “You know how half the time you weren’t even thirsty. You just wanted that hand that was attached to that glass that was attached to that person you just wanted to stay there until you fell asleep.” She took the glass of water that I brought her and just sat it down full on the table next to her. Wow, I thought. What am I gonna do with love like this.”

— Dito Montiel, One Night