The Creepy Cull of the Female Protagonist.
I’m starting to really really like this guy’s videos.
i love how men mock women for being overemotional and then lose their shit over a team losing an over-glorified game of fetch
Because all men like watching sports, obviously, right? You just did what you hate men doing, putting generalizations on a whole gender.
i know i did
irritating, isn’t it?
Adam Hills destroys Joan Rivers for her Adele comments.
do you know when you read a book that’s just so well written that when you finish it you can’t help but just sit there in silence for a few minutes just thinking about it, and then you reread the last couple pages, and just close the book and kind of stroke the cover in a weird sort of way and just keep thinking because it leaves such a strong impression on you that it just kinda haunts you in the back of your mind for the next few days
Story will always be with us. But story in a physical book, in a sentence what the West means by “a novel” - what of that? Certainly, if the form fails let it go. We have enough complications in life, in art, in literature without preserving dead forms fossilised, without cluttering ourselves with Byzantine sterilities. Yes, in that case, let the novel go. But what goes with it? Surely something of profound importance to the human spirit! A novel ensures that we can look before and after, take action at whatever pace we choose, read again and again, skip and go back. The story in a book is humble and serviceable, available, friendly, is not switched on and off but taken up and put down, lasts a lifetime. Put simply the novel stands between us and the hardening concept of statistical man. There is no other medium in which we can live for so long and so intimately with a character. That is the service a novel renders. It performs no less an act than the rescue and the preservation of the individuality and dignity of the single being, be it man, woman or child. No other art, I claim, can so thread in and out of a single mind and body, so live another life. It does ensure that at the very least a human being shall be seen to be more than just one billionth of one billion.
William Golding, 1983 Nobel Laureate for Literature
Commissioned painting. One of my favorite recent works, I think. :)
I’ll be doing a very limited edition print run of this piece to start off my personal print shop. They’ll be gallery quality inkjet prints, signed, numbered, 13”x19” size and run about $80 USD. E-mail me if you’d like to reserve one in advance. Otherwise, there will be an announcement in the future when they’re available!
The Doctor, and his joy and his wonder