“I remember walking across Sixty-second Street one twilight that first spring, or the second spring, they were all alike for a while. I was late to meet someone but I stopped at Lexington Avenue and bought a peach and stood on the corner eating it and knew that I had come out out of the West and reached the mirage. I could taste the peach and feel the soft air blowing from a subway grating on my legs and I could smell lilac and garbage and expensive perfume and I knew that it would cost something sooner or later — because I did not belong there, did not come from there — but when you are twenty-two or twenty-three, you figure that later you will have a high emotional balance, and be able to pay whatever it costs. I still believed in possibilities then, still had the sense, so peculiar to New York, that something extraordinary would happen any minute, any day, any month.
-Joan Didion
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“Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”Frida Kahlo (via boogeywoman)
(Source: allmymetaphors, via oldfilmsflicker)
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How legendary editor Ursula Nordstrom cultivated the genius of Maurice Sendak (June 10, 1928 — May 8, 2012) – an infinitely heartening letter to young Sendak, 1961.
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Happy Birthday, Maurice Sendak.
Dave Eggers profiles the beloved Where the Wild Things author, who would have been 85 today.
Photograph by Annie Leibovitz.
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“This is not a trailer for a real film. Bill Murray was kind enough to grant us our wish of walking down the hallway in slow motion - simple. This is better than autograph.
Thank you, Bill Murray.”
still one of the best interactions between a celebrity and some fans
I guess this guy and his friends had asked for an autograph, but instead, Bill Murray gave them a slowmotion Wes Anderson-style walk, on set. Billlllll
(Source: vimeo.com)
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