I feel like doing something reckless and stupid and just trying to stretch out of my own skin.
It’s a weird and horrible restless, itchy, destructive feeling. It’s a shifty-eyed feeling. I just want to run around or get to work on a mammoth project or write something or paint or cook or something. I want to start a Muggle Quidditch team. And dye my hair. And tattoo myself with something ridiculous. And pierce my lip. And plan stuff for the summer. Lots of ridiculous stuff. I want to do silly courses and volunteer at festivals and maybe just leave the country for the first time in my life, or work at the BBC again, or work, in general, because I kinda miss that. And I wanna swim in the sea and sing karaoke and find a house to live in and I want to scream at the top of my lungs and smash plates and learn to surf. I’d also like some Play Doh.
Instead of achieving any of this I’m going to see how many free Bibles I can get sent to the porter’s lodge in an attempt to confuse the world. I just feel like I need to read the Bible. An online version is of no use to me because it’s not about the actual words, it’s about the ritual, and the associations. The chill and the grey and the discipline. How ordered life was. How organised I was. How active and alive before my body started falling apart.
I blame Jane Eyre for these feelings. Jane Eye and Lana del Rey.
I want a black coffee and a cigarette and a sea swim.
[trigger warning - child abuse, rape] I feel no sympathy for Joe Paterno. I feel nothing for him at all. He died at 85 years old, and for the majority of his life he was at the top of the world- a hero, a saint, an icon. A rich and powerful man, in a position of power at a rich and powerful institution, that just so happened to allow countless children to be brutalized in order to maintain it’s precious reputation and the money and power that went along with it. And he was complicit in that, no matter how much pretzel logic you use to try to excuse it away. At the very least, he was a moral coward, at worst he was a knowing enabler of the torture of children. Maybe he did have regrets, and maybe he was genuinely remorseful, but whatever personal hell he dealt with in his final months doesn’t even come close to what the children who were victimized experienced, and they are still living with it every day.
But I’m one of the lucky ones. I am unlike the millions of kids who never escape from the cycle of psychological torture and self inflicted violence- the kids and adult survivors who kill themselves, either directly or indirectly. The ones who never make it out ok.
And when they die, they don’t get photo layouts, or tributes. They are faceless. They are nameless. They are forgotten.
If you are going to grieve for anyone, grieve for them. Not Joe Paterno.
Read this, JoePa fans. Read every word. Then read it again. Memorize it. Every time you’re tempted to jump to Joe Paterno’s defense against a survivor, remind yourself of this article. Form a pavlovian response so that you do this automatically.
Proceed to never, ever say a word about Joe Paterno again.
I've spent so long thinking about the idea that Sherlock cloned himself at Baskerville and a different version of himself jumped off the building that I may seriously have to wait until the shop opens in an hour and a half so I can buy cigarettes because I am FREAKING THE HOLY FUCK OUT.
we can say ‘OH THAT’S JUST TOO SILLY’ as much as we fucking well want but these are the men who brought us jekyll and the league of gentlemen, for christ’s sake
“You have to keep in mind that as soon as you put a rule in place, that’s the rule. I can’t tell you the number of times after we said that demons were once human that we turned to Ben Edlund who first suggested that and we were like, ‘Well thanks a lot for saying that demons were once human!’ ’Cause now we’re stuck with that, and it completely changes everything,” Gamble said.”—I’m usually on the ‘hey let’s not be quite so rough on Gamble!’ middle-of-the-fence, but Jesus, that’s just fucking unprofessional.
“Why do I always have to make it?” John grumbled from the kitchen. Clinking a teaspoon against the rim of one of the steaming mugs of tea he’d brewed, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “You haven’t bought the milk for weeks, either,” he added as an afterthought, frowning as he threw the spoon into the sink; it clattered shrilly as it fell past towering piles of dirty saucepans and used plates.
Easing the two cups of tea from the kitchen counter and cautiously carrying them through to the sitting-room, John continued his verbal list of his flatmate’s flaws. “You hardly ever do the washing, either—” he set the mugs down on the desk with a groan “— and don’t get me started on the hoovering. In fact, you—”
He broke off, listening: soft, timid footsteps echoed from the hall and a gentle knock on the door followed them. Pushing it open with a creak, Mrs Hudson entered the flat. Tears shone in her eyes as she crossed the room to hold a bewildered John in her arms, silencing the various questions his open mouth was about to ask.
“John,” she whispered hoarsely in his ear. ”You’re speaking in the present tense again, love.”
wait no i have just a few things to say in my husk-like state
mycroft is one of the most intelligent men in the world, and runs a government that tortures people for information, yet a) is incapable of lying about his brother’s back story and b) couldn’t just fucking kill moriarty?
i am optimistic enough to assume that’s part of a bigger, nastier plot and not just shoddy writing. maybe mycroft is all kinds of fucked up and just wanted to see what jim would do with the information, out of curiosity. the holmes boys are just big kids doing experiments, not giving a shit about the consequences.
lestrade is a god amongst men.
donovan is the most senseless, irritating, brainless character ever conceived in the long and noble history of the story writing tradition.
and molly hooper is the most brilliant, beautiful, wonderful, wise, trustworthy character ever conceived in the long and noble history of the story writing tradition, and she more than makes up for sally.
and last, but by no mean’s least, john’s speech to sherlock’s grave is the single greatest piece of television i have ever had the privilege of witnessing, and martin freeman deserves every single moment of glory that is inevitably coming his way.
“Anyone called ‘Jasper’ is an arrogant, untrustworthy scoundrel. Anyone called ‘Cedric’ is liable to be worse. And anyone called ‘Piers’ should be shot on sight. Don’t say you’ve never learned anything from my memoirs.”—Sebastian Moran (from, The Hound of the D’Urbervilles)
“Feminism is not the issue any more, not for me anyway. It’s just never occurred to me that a woman wouldn’t be equal, in any sphere, to a man. It’s nothing that has ever come up in my life and nothing I’ve thought about in terms of Amy.”—
I. What is happening to this show? No. No, seriously. WHERE IS THE CONTINUITY? THE COHERENCY? OTHER WORDS THAT BEGIN WITH C AND END IN Y AND IMPLY AN ENJOYABLE VIEWING EXPERIENCE?
Unless this Supernatural kid has something to do with ghost!Bobby, Lucifer, Castiel’s return, or the Leviathan, I’m done.
I know I keep saying I’m done a lot, but I probably will be actually, legitimately done this time. Probably. There’s a high chance I’ve got a few dramatic ‘I’M DONE’s stored up to use as punctuation over the coming weeks.
Shit, I’m so glad I’m back at uni on Sunday. My brain’s too full of how frustrated I am with this fucking TV show. Right now my life is Supernatural and Sherlock, and I have no idea how one can be so satisfying, and the other so fucking demoralising.
if that were true i am p sure kali and ganesh would have wiped the floor with lucifer way back in season five
so glad i’m not the only one who noticed the harking-back-to-gaiman going on in this episode.
'WE DON'T WANT ANY MORE GODS OR ANGELS LET US CLEANSE OURSELVES OF THEIR PRESENCE except if they allow us to use jensen as a life-size ken doll for our dressing-up pleasure in which case they're cool let's use them easy out'