does anyone else read the lips of people on gifs to figure out which part of the subtitles they are saying
and then get really mad if they don’t match up right
Yep! I’ve gotten really good at it. It’s particularly funny in constructed reality gifsets, where people never even come CLOSE.
someone once asked Leonard Cohen when he was dating Joni Mitchell, "How do you like living with Beethoven?”
I DIDN’T GET EITHER OF THOSE BECAUSE I SAW A LOT OF SCREENCAPS WITH THEM AND I WAS LIKE, ‘IN CASE I NEVER PLAY THIS GAME AGAIN, I WILL REMEMBER THAT THEY WERE REAL.’ That was my main screencapping motivation basically. Every time I was unsure this was real life, or was happening, to me.
(Source: sassygayclarinetist, via ourlightsinvain)
I wrote up a long thing about how someone should write about their marriage between two people who know everything there is to hate about the other one, and how that’d be hot, friend. Hot. And then Tumblr ate it. But I love Persuasion, and I love how Anne kind of is up herself and a bit boring and a lot snobbish, and how Frederick is casually cruel and flashy and frequently the kind of person you’d hesitate to support as a long-term husband prospect, and I love that they fumble their way towards being kind to each other. I’m very very fond.
He looked at her, looked at Lady Russell, and looking again at her, replied, as if in cool deliberation —
”Not yet, but there are hopes of her being forgiven in time. I trust to being in charity with her soon.”
(also best portrayal of fraught familial relationships, Gabe. just pointing that out. no reason.)
Oh yeah yeah yeah! and actually that makes me understand what you mean by dated much better. In that sense: yes, absolutely.
haggady asked: Northanger Abbey had some very funny bits where the hero is convinced that spooky business is afoot, but overall the book felt dated? The romance seemed oddly passionless, like lacking in erotic feeling. Sort of a Platonic Ideal of romance that only consists of devotion. It's a very odd experience to read something where parts feel fresh and new as if they were written yesterday mixed in with dull stuff that feels antiquated.
Oh, maybe! That’s a fair reading, but for me, that wasn’t my experience. I— hmm, I guess I don’t feel that, with the exception of maybe Anne and Frederick, passion is the defining feature of an Austenian marriage. The goal is an alliance of equals. Even Elizabeth doesn’t fall in love with Darcy because of all their sexy bickering; she falls in love with him because she sees his massive well-kept house and realizes that everyone in the neighborhood likes him and thinks he’s a kind man. Austen herself says it: Catherine and Henry’s love is founded on gratitude, and that’s meant to feel unusual, to not be a romance in the way that romances are usually told, but to nevertheless be true to life. I think the main difference in our readings is that I didn’t see a lot of devotion but I did see a lot of friendship and I am totally fine (in fact prefer) marriage plots between two people who may not be super In Love but who are very In Friends.
Plus, I just… really love the scene where they propose to each other and then they go and visit Mr. Allen and Henry repeats himself thirty times. It fills in a lot of the gaps for me. They made out in a lot of hedgerows on the way home, let’s be real.
ourlightsinvain asked: hahaha, i have the opposite reaction to emma, i'm like god stop preaching at her, narrative, GO AWAY KNIGHTLEY, NO ONE ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION
i think. a shameful confession. i think i just. see myself too much in emma. or at least my younger self, the self I was when I read it the most times. I was an enormously bossy child, and I’m still a very self-righteous jerk who is SURE that if everyone just followed her EXCELLENT advice everything would shake out right, but lol stop gossipping about people? Why would I do tha— oh fuck. People have heard me. Abort!! ABANDON SHIP THROW ANCHORS INTO THE FACE OF OTHER SAILORS
but we are agreed in finding Mr. Knightley annoying. So, so agreed. plus: literally raised her.
The next morning was fair, and Catherine almost expected another attack from the assembled party. With Mr. Allen to support her, she felt no dread of the event: but she would gladly be spared a contest, where victory itself was painful, and was heartily rejoiced therefore at neither seeing nor hearing anything of them. The Tilneys called for her at the appointed time; and no new difficulty arising, no sudden recollection, no unexpected summons, no impertinent intrusion to disconcert their measures, my heroine was most unnaturally able to fulfil her engagement, though it was made with the hero himself. They determined on walking round Beechen Cliff, that noble hill whose beautiful verdure and hanging coppice render it so striking an object from almost every opening in Bath.
“I never look at it,” said Catherine, as they walked along the side of the river, “without thinking of the south of France.”
“You have been abroad then?” said Henry, a little surprised.
“Oh! No, I only mean what I have read about. It always puts me in mind of the country that Emily and her father travelled through, in The Mysteries of Udolpho. But you never read novels, I dare say?”
“Because they are not clever enough for you — gentlemen read better books.”
“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Radcliffe’s works, and most of them with great pleasure. The Mysteries of Udolpho, when I had once begun it, I could not lay down again; I remember finishing it in two days — my hair standing on end the whole time.”
“Yes,” added Miss Tilney, “and I remember that you undertook to read it aloud to me, and that when I was called away for only five minutes to answer a note, instead of waiting for me, you took the volume into the Hermitage Walk, and I was obliged to stay till you had finished it.”
“Thank you, Eleanor — a most honourable testimony. You see, Miss Morland, the injustice of your suspicions. Here was I, in my eagerness to get on, refusing to wait only five minutes for my sister, breaking the promise I had made of reading it aloud, and keeping her in suspense at a most interesting part, by running away with the volume, which, you are to observe, was her own, particularly her own. I am proud when I reflect on it, and I think it must establish me in your good opinion.”