Don’t feel bad if you’re sensitive to negative feedback because apparently after one particular bad review Hans Christian Andersen was found just sobbing while lying face down in the dirt

Via Amy Spalding

Favourite Things of 2015 #4: Sufjan Stevens' new album

I've not always been a super fan of Sufjav Stevens. I like his voice and I like plenty of his music but the religious vibe has always put me off, which is a bit dumb I guess given my deep love for Belle and Sebastian, despite Stuart's on-again-off-again flirtation with faith.

So I'm not sure what made me buy Sufjan Stevens' new album, Carrie & Lowell outright when I don't buy that many albums these days. All I know is that I heard it mentioned on a podcast and thought I should give it a listen. I listened to one song and then another and I knew it was an album for me and something I was going to want to listen to over and over again.

As a purchase it has not disappointed: I love this album. In a year that has had some pretty bloody bleak moments this lovely, sad and sometimes deeply depressing album has been like a... well not a balm exactly and not like pouring salt on a wound either but it's been a wonderful accompaniment to some sad and mopey times. To me it's like Madame Bollinger's famous line about drinking champagne when she's happy and also when she's sad. I can listen to this album when I'm in a good mood and when I'm blue as the bluest blue whale and it works on me either way, albeit probably in different ways.

To conclude: love it. Definitely my album of 2015.

Thoughts on watching the first two episodes of the rebooted Dr Who for the first time

1. I really like Billie Piper. She's a delight.

2. This show is hella silly.

3. It's also basically like Star Trek with fewer regular cast members.

4. I'm not sure yet if I'm into it (the only episode of Dr Who I've ever seen that I loved was Blink and the Dr barely features) but I think I might want to keep watching?

Luke Skywalker running away but leaving a map like

Via Rainbow Rowell

Favourite things of 2015 #3: Breakfast at Sayers

To be fair 2015 was not the year I first had breakfast at Sayers. However, it was the year I started having so many breakfasts at Sayers that my dream of being able to order "the usual" came true. It was also the year (mostly) I wrote two terrible novels perched (mostly) at a table at Sayers before work, pecking out awful dialogue while getting chocolate from my breakfast muffin all over the keyboard.

Weekend breakfasts at Sayers with piles of scrambled eggs, newspapers and company are a delight. But it's the weekday breakfasts with me and my laptop that have proved to be a bit of a revelation to me this year. Getting some writing-for-fun done before my day of writing-for-money begins feels great. Doing it while eating a giant muffin (so good) and drinking too much tea is even better.

Christmas is over but there's still time to enjoy(?) this lovely, sad Christmas song

Plus Andy Samberg is very much in my wheelhouse, let's not discount that as a factor

Recently I found myself having a real craving to rewatch Celeste and Jesse forever, a completely charming little movie I haven't thought about in yonks. Only when I was curled up in bed with my laptop, watching the above opening sequence (which I love) did I realise what I really wanted was a bit of an excuse to weep. Enjoy!

Favourite things of 2015 #2: Mad Max: Fury Road

I loved the new Star Wars movie but I pretty much expected to love it. Because of my love for the franchise I also cannot assess it objectively at all, nor do I want to hear arguments from anyone who didn't love it because I just don't care.

Of all the movies I saw this year (and there were a lot of movies) the one that blew me away was Mad Max: Fury Road because I went in thinking hmmmm and came away feeling like I had watched the perfect action film.

Favourite things of 2015 #1: Running

Two friends are back in town for Christmas this year so I've been thinking a bit about what's changed since I saw them last.

There have been plenty of little things I've done and great experiences I've had but the single biggest new thing I've done this year has been to start running and - however implausible it seems - to fall in love with running.

I started running in March or April with the ambition of finishing a 4K, which seemed impossible at the time. When that was done I set my sites on a 12K which seemed even harder. When I finally dragged myself through a half-marathon earlier this month it seemed like the logical conclusion. It was also... almost fun. Scratch the almost it was really fun: the planning and the aftermath, at least, if not the actual running bit, which was on the tiring side.

Running lets me eat more or less what I want without getting Orca fat. It also gives me a sense of achievement (some may call it smugness) and helps minimise anxiety and blue moods. 

With the odd exceptions (I mean sometimes I am really not in the mood) the days that I wake up knowing I'm going for a run are my favourite days. And the days that I wake up to run and then go and eat back those calories with a pile of pillowed eggs or an over-stuffed chocolate muffin are the best days of all.

"I can see Han and Lando, like, competitively jerking off, but not fucking"

Over at Pajiba you can read A Serious Discussion Of Which Original Trilogy Star Wars Character Is Best In Bed and, really, why wouldn't you? Han Solo is the obvious choice, to me, but I think they might have talked me into Obi-Wan just a little bit.

As for the new instalment? Poe, Poe, a thousand times Poe.

Feelings!

I have so many feelings about Star Wars: The Force Awakens. But to avoid even slightly spoiling people I'll just say that I thought it was super rad, much fun and you should go and see it now before you get spoiled. SERIOUSLY WHY WOULD YOU RISK THIS? Also my deep love for Oscar Isaac continues to grow to the point where I have to acknowledge I can never ever interview him for work - in the super unlikely event such an opportunity arose - because I would in no way be able to keep my cool and shit would get weird.

Things my Body Pump instructor says that make me think she's an anarchist:

"That's the way the world controls you. You can't do what you want, you have to do what they say." 

Sure, bitch was talking about the choreography for a new Les Mills biceps track but I think she makes a valid point...

This is what my summer is going to sound like.

Also: the sound of cold drinks being poured into glasses and salty crisps giving way to my super sharp teeth.

Felines of New York

“I go after the feather. I kill the feather. But the feather keeps coming back. Quite honestly it’s exhausting, but what is life if you’re not going after something? I just need to lay here for another minute. I’ll be fine.”

“I listen to music a lot, but not by choice. I don’t know how to turn it off. If I had it my way this place would be dead silent so I could hear if anything was crawling around.”

“I’m a little worried about entering the current job market. I just don’t think I have the work experience everyone is looking for. I don’t even have a resume. I know this sounds vain, but I’ll have to rely on my youth and good looks to stay afloat for as long as I can.”

“I think you’ll be fine. Nobody expects you to work.”

“Oh. That’s right.”

Via Felines of New York

Things I have been watching lately #1304

“Look out Boots, I’m going to buy a hundred meal 

deals and eat them off a prozzie in the nude.”

5 reasons to watch Mr Robot, according to me, after a weekend binge watch

It's a TV series about hacking that doesn't make hacking seem like magic.

It has female characters who a) aren't love interests for the main dude, b) talk to each other, c) do things.

For every "fuck society" and "down with the man" statement that might make you roll your eyes there's something to suggest the show doesn't 100 per cent buy into a lot of the stuff that comes out of the mouths of its characters.

Rami Malek is, to be sure, distinctive to look at but at some point he became super attractive to me so now that's all I see and it'll happen to you too.

It is a lot of fun.

Completely giving up....

... starring: me.

It's a bit funny, actually

The Richard Curtis film Love Actually seems to me to be one of those things that divides people, like Vegemite and awkward comedy: either you loooooove it and can't stand people who don't love it too or you haaaaaaate it and have no respect for anyone who feels differently.

But I sit somewhere in between: I hate some storylines but I don't hate the film. I love some storylines but I don't love the film. What an enigma I am.

Anyway, what I have been sort of loving is Thirty Days of Love Actually which is, well, what it sounds like. This on Mark (played by the usually delightful Andrew Lincoln) in what is, for my money, the creepiest storyline of them all:

What better way to kick-off this insane project than with a few hundred over a thousand words on the character at the centre of the film’s most controversial plotline - Mark. Settle in for a wild ride as we dissect Mark’s failed attempts at big pimpin, his music tastes and answer the question once and for all - is he a total creep?
Most contemporary analysis of Mark focuses on his quasi-stalking of Keira Knightley’s character, Juliet (who gets married to his best mate Peter at the start of the film), but I’d argue Mark’s weirdness is established much earlier on.
I’ve not yet had the responsibility of being best man at a wedding, but I am familiar with what’s required. Organise the buck’s night, make a speech, don’t be too much of a twat. Sadly, it’s all a bit of a struggle for poor old Mark. We discover in the film’s seventh scene that his attempt to organise Brazilian prostitutes for Peter’s buck’s was derailed when it emerged the prostitutes were, in fact, men. There’s actually another weird bit in the film here when Peter, who is about to get married to Juliet, suggested that it would have been really excellent party if the prostitutes were actually women. Presumably so he could sleep with them? Is sleeping with Brazilian prostitutes a common thing people do immediately prior to getting married? Anyway we’ll cover this in more detail when we get to Peter. Back to Mark.

You can read the rest here.

Adriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan or Unexpected Pleasures in the movie Creed:

1. I didn't need to have seen Rocky to be completely caught up 5 minutes into the movie.
2. Michael B Jordan. In multiple tank-tops. That clung to him when he sweated.
3. Sly Stallone being kinda... charming?
4. It acknowledged that boxing is basically a really stupid thing to do. Which: word.
5. Generic Love Interest was not so generic. She had, I don't know, implied backstory and everything. It's a low bar to clear but I'll take what I can get.
6. Michael B Jordan being charming as hell. Also the tank-top thing. I'm not over it.

Things I still spend money on even though I'm poor because otherwise life would not be worth living: a slightly more upbeat list

Going out for dinner

Going out for breakfast

Going out for wine

Ice-cream

Things I used to spend money on that I no longer spend money on because I'm poor: a depressing list

Magazines (mostly I can borrow these from work anyway)

Books (hello Mr Library)

Massages ("Oh, Andy...")

Pedicures (my toenails are totally fucked up from running anyway so this isn't a great loss)

Classic fucking LOVE STORY?

Um, no. Trying harder The Viewing Lounge.

 “You have a morbid aversion to dying. You probably resent the fact that you're at war and might get your head blown off any second."

"I more than resent it, sir. I'm absolutely incensed."

"You have deep-seated survival anxieties. And you don't like bigots, bullies, snobs, or hypocrites. Subconsciously there are many people you hate."

"Consciously, sir, consciously," Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. "I hate them consciously."

"You're antagonistic to the idea of being robbed, exploited, degraded, humiliated, or deceived. Misery depresses you. Ignorance depresses you. Persecution depresses you. Violence depresses you. Corruption depresses you. You know, it wouldn't surprise me if you're a manic-depressive!"

"Yes, sir. Perhaps I am."

"Don't try to deny it."

"I'm not denying it, sir," said Yossarian, pleased with the miraculous rapport that finally existed between them. "I agree with all you've said.” 

(Joseph Heller, Catch 22)

"Settle for me: in a sad way, Darling, it's fate"

(If this doesn't make you want to watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend then you probably shouldn't watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend)

I think maybe I want to make a nest of Lorde's hair and sleep in it...

... that's not weird, is it? (Pics via Rainbow Rowell)

Things I did recently that made me suspect I am not living my best life:

Stole some toilet paper from my favourite cafe. No biggie.

If an angry bear was treated the way rape is

Okay this is not bad, not bad at all.

“You talk too damn much and too damn much of it is about you.”

― Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

Not obsessed or anything...

... but this is my playlist today:

(Carry On fan art via Leela)

Questions from my husband that make me happy:

"Is it okay if I make nutella pancakes for dinner?"

Worth the bed sores

I'm on the record as being a big Rainbow Rowell fan. I'm also a sucker for fantasy novels and romance. These are three reasons why Rowell's new novel, Carry On, feels like it has been written specifically for me. Unlike, say, Lev Grossman's The Magician's, it's not necessarily a novel I'd recommend for everyone, even if I do think it's been heavily influenced by the Grossman series. Without wanting to do spoilers there are some elements of it some people might not be into and the central mystery could probably be more mysterious or convoluted if that was what the book was about which, well, it's kind of not.However, I would urge anyone who likes fantasy of the Harry Potter type and/or likes Rowell's other novels to give this one a red hot crack because I loved it. I read 90 per cent of it in one sitting and it was worth the bed sores.

Husband Number Two Should Andy Perish In A Tragic House Fire And After I Have Waited An Appropriate Length Of TIme

Come on. Come ooooon: doesn't this guy (photo via The Sartorialist) seem like the best? Just look at him. Look at that smile. Look at that hair. I want to mess up that hair so badly right now I have an actual ache in my bathing suit area. I also really want to borrow that cute little shrunken jacket that seems like it might be, I don't know, velvet? Corduroy? Either way I'm into it. In my mind the first couple of times I borrowed it he'd be charmed because we were madly in love and I'd look adorable even though it didn't really technically button up over my boobs and was kind of too tight on my chubby arms. Then after we moved in together and made that shit official he'd start finding the jacket put away in my cupboard and get a bit pissy with me. After so many years I'd claim the jacket had always been mine and he'd borrowed it off me. Then he'd show me this photo - taken years before we met - to show me what a liar I was and I'd be sad because a) he was right and I was wrong and also a big exposed liar and b) this photo would remind me of how cute and lovely and charming he was once when he was just a smile and a cute haircut and what a dick he's since become and how much I want a divorce.

Favourite Things I Have Done in Thailand This Week

1. Sat on my balcony listening to this.

2. Not set my alarm clock.

3. Breakfasted alone. For, like, 2 hours with my book.

4. Snorkelled in really deep water and not thought about sharks the whole time. To clarify: I thought about sharks most of the time so I didn't really enjoy this while I was doing it, per se, but I did feel chuffed with myself for not being a total pussy and staying on the boat.

5. Ate a LOT of really good food. Last night's six course meal (seven if you count the little swinging chocolates at the end) was a real highlight, even if I was in danger of having to roll out of the restaurant.

6. Demonstrated iron will power by not drinking every wine or cocktail put in front of me... which was a lot.

7. Encountered charming Aussies running hotels or restaurants or both over here. Once of them grew up a street away from me.

8. Had two of the best massages I've ever had. I still feel a bit like I was beaten up but in the best possible way.

9. Fell asleep in the sun.

My Proustian madeleine

"How to date a brown girl (black girl, white girl, or halfie)"

by Junot Diaz

Wait for your brother and your mother to leave the apartment. You've already told them that you're feeling too sick to go to Union City to visit that tia who likes to squeeze your nuts. (He's gotten big, she'll say.) And even though your moms knows you ain't sick you stuck to your story until finally she said, Go ahead and stay, malcriado.
Clear the government cheese from the refrigerator. If the girl's from the Terrace stack the boxes behind the milk. If she's from the Park or Society Hill hide the cheese in the cabinet above the oven, way up where she'll never see. Leave yourself a reminder to get it out before morning or your moms will kick your ass. Take down any embarrassing photos of your family in the campo, especially the one with the halfnaked kids dragging a goat on a rope leash. The kids are your cousins and by now they're old enough to understand why you're doing what you're doing. Hide the pictures of yourself with an Afro. Make sure the bathroom is presentable. Put the basket with all the crapped-on toilet paper under the sink. Spray the bucket with Lysol, then close the cabinet.
Shower, comb, dress. Sit on the couch and watch TV. If she's an outsider her father will be bringing her, maybe her mother. Neither of them want her seeing any boys from the Terrace-people get stabbed in the Terrace-but she's strong-headed and this time will get her way. If she's a whitegirl you know you'll at least get a hand job. 

If you've never read any Junot Diaz before or if the above made you chuckle you can and should read the whole thing (it's not long) here.

How not to make Nigella Lawson's nutella cheesecake

1. Don't start making it until you're really hungry.
2. Make slightly too much for the tart tray so you have a big blob of the filling left in the bowl.
3. Eat the blob.
4. Eat the leftover chocolate ripple biscuits.
5. Definitely eat the leftover nutella.
6. Lie quietly in bed and look out the window, clutching your too-full tummy.

"It's not that I love myself, I just don't want company."

(Joan Armatrading, "Me Myself & I")

Nachman!

I feel like I've been posting a lot of links to short stories on here lately. That's probably because I've been reading a lot of them or, to be more accurate, listening to a lot of them thanks to the New Yorker's terrific short fiction podcast. If you like short stories and podcasts: get onto this, it's terrific.

Since I started listening to this podcast a month or so ago it's not only introduced me to some great new stories, it's also helped me rediscover two short stories, totally unconnected from each other, that I read years ago and which I had failed repeatedly to find time and time again. First it was Joshua Ferris' "The Dinner Party". Now it's "Cryptology" by Leonard Michaels. Oh Lord if you knew how many times I had Google searched for this bad boy, of which I had such fond memories. I can't remember when or where I read it years ago and I couldn't remember much about it except for the super awkward interaction (soooo good/bad) at its heart. I couldn't remember the author or the main characters name, nor even what city it was set in.

The funny thing is that this story didn't appear on the podcast at all - another short story by the same author and about the same main character did. The moment I heard that name, Nachman, it came back to me: that was the guy from the other story that one time. One Google search later and here we are.

All of which is a long way of saying this is a fun story you should read:

Nachman had arrived in New York the previous evening, and was walking along Fifth Avenue when she came up behind him, calling, “Nachman, Nachman, is that you?” He looked back and saw a woman shining with a happiness for which he, apparently, was responsible. His mere existence had turned on her lights. Nachman kissed her on both cheeks, and then they stood chatting at the corner of Forty-second Street, the millions passing with the minutes. When Nachman parted from her, he was holding her business card and the key to her apartment in Chelsea, having promised to join her and her husband for dinner that evening.

Things I did this week

Sent this clip to my boss, who was having a bad day too. Cheered us both right up. Fuck you can really tell we're exactly the same age.

5 Stars

Maybe I'm getting super mellow in my dotage but this little bit of 2 Star trickery made me laugh and laugh and laugh. 5 stars, guys.

Hee. “Oculus Thrift”. I see what you did there.

In March 2014, Zuckerberg announced that he would buy Oculus VR for more than $2 billion, and suddenly the question of what is possible now was not so hard to predict. The top two manufacturers of video-game consoles—Sony and Microsoft—are both preparing to release their own headsets in the next year. And just months after the Oculus acquisition was announced, Facebook’s chief competitor, Google, unveiled a virtual-reality-on-the-cheap offering, Google Cardboard, which involves slipping a smartphone into a headset made of a few dollars’ worth of corrugated paper. The press called it “Oculus Thrift.”

Over at Vanity Fair there is a long but interesting read on how Facebook's deal on Oculus Rift was done for nerds who are interested in such things. As someone who knows sweet fuck all about these things I cannot see it NOT being, as they point out in the yarn, an intermediate technology but shit if I had a spare $1500* I would get one.

* Or a secret benefactor. Guys? Guys? Call me. We'll talk about it.

The paw

(These cats are why I sometimes want a pal for Mr Whiskerley so bad.)

Johnlock

S: John… John… John…

J: What

S: Look, John

(So good. Via Destination Toast)

Thanks, internet

For the timely reminder that I really used to love Murder, She Wrote and should probably do a massive rewatch some time soon.

(Also, if you secretly think J.Fletch is kinda stylin' you should get on this)

Ravenclaw*

One of my favourite authors writing today, Rainbow Rowell, has been sorting her fictional characters into Hogwarts houses over on her tumblr (BAZ IS A HUFFLEPUFF? MY MIND IS BLOWN) - it's worth a read for fellow fans.





* Not because I'm so smart but because sometimes I like books better than people.

Things I wanted to say but did not say to the girl at the Chemist who was forced by the pharmacist to discuss her thrush problem in brutal detail two feet away from me and other customers:

"You hold him down, I'll go for the eyes."

Things that make me think oh, ok, maybe I just have weird taste

Oscar Isaac really really does do it for me. Yes EVEN WITH THE MOUSTACHE.

I regret nothing.

Things that make me wonder if I am secretly super racist

Idris Elba... doesn't really do it for me. Come on reptile brain: look at him, you know you should want to get all up in that.

Hee

"What can you say about a girl like, Susie?"

I didn't want to laugh at this silly thing this attention-seeking guy tried

But I really did. I also would not ever have the balls to try it myself.

This very short story took me 3 minutes to read and 3 days later I'm still thinking about it

"He finds himself sitting in the neighborhood bar drinking a beer at about the same time that he began to think about going there for one. In fact, he has finished it. Perhaps he’ll have a second one, he thinks, as he downs it and asks for a third."

I'm also pretty embarrassed not to have heard of Robert Coover. You can and should read the whole thing (it is shoooooort) here. 

Somehow I stumbled onto this...

... while looking up something for work and now I would like to please burn the phrase "panty moistener" from my brain.

Hack the Planet

Yeah great fucking work, guys:

On social news site Reddit, one user claimed he was a gay man now living in Saudi Arabia who had used the service under his own name to meet men in the US. He titled his post: “I May Get Stoned to Death for Gay Sex (Gay Man from Saudi Arabia Who Used Ashley Madison for Hookups.)”
“I am from a country where homosexuality carries the death penalty,” he wrote. “I BEG you all to spread this message. Perhaps the hackers will take notice of it, and then, I can tell them to (at the very least) exercise discretion in their information dump (i.e. leave the single gay arab guy out of it). As of now, I plan on leaving the Kingdom and never returning once I have the $ for a plane ticket. Though I have no place to go, no real friends, and no job.”

Things I did today

Misread the news headline QLD SCHOOL GIRL MISSING as OLD SCHOOL GIRL MISSING and had some jokes ready in my head about that and then took a long hard look at myself and did not mention this to anyone.

Things my Body Pump Instructor says after Body Pump that make me want to drop my weights on her foot:

"Now go home and have a sensible breakfast."

On self respect

Until I read Joan Didion's terrific Vogue essay on the subject (which you really should read in its entirety here) it truly never occurred to me that a lack of self respect could be at the heart of my (mostly historic) bouts of insomnia. Now it... makes a lot of sense. Plus fuuuuck she is good. I mean:

"To do without self-respect, on the other hand, is to be an unwilling audience of one to an interminable home movie that documents one’s failings, both real and imagined, with fresh footage spliced in for each screening. There’s the glass you broke in anger, there’s the hurt on X’s face; watch now, this next scene, the night Y came back from Houston, see how you muff this one. To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, phenobarbital, and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commission and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice or carelessness. However long we post- pone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously un- comfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves."

and:

"Like Jordan Baker, people with self-respect have the courage of their mistakes. They know the price of things. If they choose to commit adultery, they do not then go running, in an access of bad conscience, to receive absolution from the wronged parties; nor do they complain unduly of the unfairness, the undeserved embarrassment,of being named corespondent. If they choose to forego their work—say it is screenwriting—in favor of sitting around the Algonquin bar, they do not then wonder bitterly why the Hacketts, and not they, did Anne Frank."

and finally:

"It was once suggested to me that, as an antidote to crying, I put my head in a paper bag. As it happens, there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable: it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying oneself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one’s head in a Food Fair bag. There is a similar case for all the small disciplines, unimportant in themselves; imagine maintaining any kind of swoon, commiserative or carnal, in a cold shower."

No seriously just read the whole thing right here.

If you don't understand why I'm excited about this movie you don't understand me at all.

My new at-work playlist...

... is somehow now restricted to songs played in the closing credits of Silicon Valley. That is... not a complaint.

I have a bad feeling about this.

I can't imagine why.

A Thing I Have Been Doing Lately

1. Getting home from work at a reasonable hour on a night when I have the house to myself.

2. Changing into my pajamas.

3. Making my dinner and putting it on a little tray.

4. Making a pot of tea and putting that on the tray too, plus a little jug for my milk.

5. Climbing into bed with my dinner-and-tea tray and either a book or Downton Abbey on Netflix, depending on my mood.

6. Wallowing in pure Dinner Bed happiness.


Note: Obviously that is a generic pic above and not me pictured because, ew, meat yuck.

Mark Hamill autographs

Classic Hamill...

Lessons from rewatching the Jet Li classic(?) Romeo Must Die:

1. All black people can dance and have great rhythm.

2. All Chinese people know martial arts.

3. You can openly murder a bunch of dudes with no consequences sometimes.


(And yeah sure I'm ragging on it but Jet Li in that backwards cap and doing his hip-hop strut is pretty much everything)