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#fuck – @little-brisk-archive on Tumblr
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the continual discovery of fresh types of nonsense

@little-brisk-archive / little-brisk-archive.tumblr.com

PLEASE READ THE RULES call me soph (she/her) ἰσδάνω δ᾽αὐτᾶς ἄγαν ἄγχι: τερπνά φαίνεταί μοι πάντα λέγει γένεσθαι -- sappho, probably (x)
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I think with women - at a certain time, we really make our peace. We have to. With who we are, the way we look. It’s hard when you’re a young actress and you want to have perfect angles and you don’t. I also had this deep voice. I was never an ingénue. I’ve grown into my body and my voice and my face and things work better now this way.”

- Patricia Clarkson

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lovingsylvia
I am restless. Eager. Yet unproductive. […] But I biked to town today to shop […]. Loaded my black patent leather bag with sherry, cream cheese (for grammy’s apricot tarts), thyme, basil, bay leaves (for Wendy’s" exotic stews - - - a facsimile of which now simmers on the stove), golden wafers (such an elegant name for Ritz crackers), apples and green pears. I was getting worried about becoming too happily stodgily practical: instead of studying Locke, for instance, or writing - - - I go make an apple pie, or study the Joy of Cooking, reading it like a rare novel. Whoa, I said to myself. You will escape into domesticity & stifle yourself by falling headfirst into a bowl of cookie batter. And just now I pick up the blessed diary of Virginia Woolf which I bought with a battery of her novels saturday with Ted. And she works off her depression over rejections from Harper’s (no less! - - - and I hardly can believe that the Big Ones get rejected, too!) by cleaning out the kitchen. And cooks haddock & sausage. Bless her. I feel my life linked to her, somehow. I love her […].

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, Cambridge Diary, 25 February 1957 (via days-of-reading)

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also one of my problems is that in my sophomore year of high school i was traumatized by the musical carousel* and it has become my ur-musical and as a result my Musical Theatre Tropes programming is a little effed, like, i was trying to think of what ‘here comes the general’ reminds me of but in my way of figuring that out is a sonorous voice intoning ‘THEN AT LAST COME THE CLAMS.’ and it’s not, like, the biggest problem someone could have, but it’s, you know, a problem.

*i am not being casual with my use of the term trauma here, the guy who played billy barker, who was exactly the kind of guy you typecast to play billy barker, seduced me that fall/winter and not long after the show closed, raped me. so. ** also i had the overture stuck in my head for i am not kidding you nine years straight which may itself have been a trauma effect but in any case so help me if i hear anything like a theme park waltz i am not responsible for my reaction

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River is No 10 in our end-of-year roundup. Here, the star of River and Unforgotten talks about being friends with Sue Perkins, stalking Stellan Skarsgård, and learning to lie in interviews.

- The Guardian

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I DO NOT HAVE TIME TO SOB MY GUTS OUT ABOUT SCOTT AND BAILEY I HAVE TO WAKE UP IN FIVE HOURS CAN WE RESCHEDULE

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