When I was a kid, my dad used to cut out newspaper articles of topics he thought pertained to my interests (neuroscience and China mostly) and then he would mail them to me with no note. Every once in a while I would receive an envelope with an assortment of newspaper clippings from the five newspapers he reads a day.
And as I sit here sending star trek memes and mourning dove pics to friend 1, and knitting memes and terrible puns to friend 2, and sexy radishes to friend 3, never with any explanation or even an expectation of acknowledgement of receipt, I have to reckon with some hard truths about the person I have grown into and how it relates to my parenting.
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I’m like Actually really talking into the void here, but I can’t get over this letter from Wilfred Owen to his mom… he finally works up the nerve to talk to Siegfried Sassoon at Craiglockhart, and they’re VIBING and Wilfred is legit in love.
They’re working on their poetry, so Wilfred obvs wants his old writing back from his childhood home. But to do that, he has to write his mom asking her to literally BREAK OPEN his desk to get his notebooks, while also pleading with her to 🚫 NOT OPEN OR READ ANYTHING 🚫
These notebooks are 100% long gone (considering the fact that he also asked his mom to destroy “sackfuls” of his papers/letters if he died during wwi) but I would love to see what they said tbh 👀
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In retrospect I cannot believe I wrote this entire post without having seen these article scans wherein Tom Hanks so perfectly explicates my whole point that it's a little breathtaking. That he so specifically frames his experience of filming Saving Private Ryan and creating Band of Brothers as a process of historical revisionism and reaction against his father's firsthand account of the war as he experienced it really brings home I think the extent to which Band of Brothers is both intensely narrativized (in opposition to lived experience) and yet equally as intensely wants to be true. Hanks is framing both Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers here as representations of a sort of surrogate truth, which is better (and perhaps somehow truer--see the PhD comment) than his father's memories, which he finds lacking.
Like--we know all this already! We watched the series! But to have the impetus behind it so directly and forthrightly laid out like that is sort of incredible. Like, oh, Mr. Hanks, is a story true? Is a story untrue? As time extends does it matter less and less? Are the stories we want to believe the ones that survive? Jesus christ.
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Doin some design for my character for a recording this weekend.
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Here's the last (as far as I know) of Redfield's letters that made it into The New York Times. I hadn't counted this one before because it's not about theatre, but, might as well post it. It was published on February 25, 1973, and is a tribute to Redfield's friend Wally Cox, who had died on February 15.
WALLY COX
1924-1973
TO THE EDITOR:
He was a country boy with a city mind. Pure quicksilver and sweeter than Michigan snow. Twenty‐five years ago, he motorcycled a backstage friend to Rockland County and taught him to distinguish yarrow from Queen Anne's lace. He also trained him in bird‐calling. Though I never persuaded a phoebe to light on my shoulder (Wally got them to cluster by dozens), I eventually heard a chirruped reply from about 50 yards off. Victory courtesy Cox.
He was an ace with chickadees, too. When he owned his Connecticut farm, they fluttered into his hands every morning. It wasn't just for food. It was also conversation. Some sort of matutinal ceremony with Wally as dominie. One human visitor wanted so badly to receive a chickadee in her palm she practiced the pitches for weeks. No go. They chirped but wouldn't approach. Then she got smart. She put Wally's fedora on her head and wrapped herself in his mackinaw. Seconds later, she was festooned with birds. Wally's clothes could be trusted and all God's creatures knew it. He could read a cat's mind. He could make a dog laugh. Nothing mystic about it. Like St. Francis, he knew the signals.
But unlike some animal lovers, Wally was a people lover. All things were permissible save cruelty. And even that he understood. His friends felt encouraged to think and feel and speak. Censorship was superfluous. He was the only true‐blue anti‐Fascist I have ever known. Scratch too many liberals and you'll find too many hard hearts. Cox's humanity went deeper than political whim or party affiliation.
Everyone knows he was funny but his private humor was something else. It was delicious. A guy could chew on it and taste it forever and use it to cure bad dreams. Brando said: “He is a delicately brocaded Chinese robe with a few spots of Three-in‐One oil on the lapels.”
One magic morning I found him gazing out the window at an extraordinary sunrise. “What a beautiful day!” I said.
“Thank you,” he said. Thank you, Wally. But it should have lasted longer.
WILLIAM REDFIELD
New York City
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🗓️ 3.3.2024
📍(1) Lalaport, (2,3,4) Perdana Botanical Gardens and (5) Kampung Baru LRT, Kuala Lumpur
📸 Yashica D with Fomapan 100
I got my very first film scans back a few days ago! These are from a mall, park and train station in the city.
For a very first roll of film on this camera, I'm really happy with how it turned out!
[Prev Update]
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why did we ever get rid of faxes, what good technology are we leaving behind
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Hi, why does Supercuts want me to make an account with them? You're a hairdresser's, why on earth would I need an account with you?
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okay. important question.
if there is a google doc with the access setting to "anyone with the link," will people be able to find out the creator of the doc?
i tried it out myself and i wasn't able to see who the creator was, and i was also looking around on here for an answer, but i'm still not entirely sure...
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Completely unrelated, but I have caramel popcorn and it is delicious.
I'll happily share with you guys if you'd like some
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got yelled at work for being unprofessional cus i was [checks notes] crocheting at the desk. so instead now im sitting on my phone
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I've been dealing with someone at work recently who refuses to use the 'reply' button on my emails and instead writes a brand new email each time, adding my previous email as an attachment
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Man this darkiplier showdown is gonna blow UP its awesome
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Talking softly and sweetly to the printer at work like it's a nervous horse...
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the way we handle medical leave in the states even for people with good benefits is cruel
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