Somebody get me out of here.
I’m tearing at myself.
January 2011
52 posts
The jailers in my mind are all dead
I love you so much
Never forget.
Attention media writers: a standard to aspire to. →
salon.com
It’s hardly worth saying that we won’t soon see another of Tynan’s kind (what unique talent can’t that be said of?); what seems much more pertinent is that we aren’t likely even to see another who attempts to follow his example. The problem goes deeper than the fact that there’s hardly a journalist at work who writes great (let alone good) celebrity profiles. There is currently no place in the culture for anyone who approaches celebrity profiles as a critic.
For a while now, much of the press that claims to be reporting on, or writing criticism of, the entertainment industry has in fact been promoting it. Several years ago, in a piece on publicist Pat Kingsley, the New Yorker said that she “was probably the first publicist to ask a magazine editor, ‘Why do you always get to decide who’s on your cover?’”
But does it pop?
In my Perfect Pop Paradise, mainstream radio—or whatever it is you want to consider the collective listening platform through which the Average Person Is Exposed To Music—would allow artists on Warp, Kompakt, and Hyperdub to be directly responsible for producing the core of the content. As opposed to, you know, the current trickle-down-effect they silently enforce on songs like “Hold It Against Me” et al.
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I understood your tears and your shame.
She called you ‘boy’ instead of your name.
Aubrey Plaza on Portlandia
- She #1: Who is your teacher?
- Aubrey: Marilyn Candle.
- She #2: Oh. She's...a bit odd looking, isn't she?
- Aubrey: I...guess.
- She #2: It's almost like they made her eyes weird...
- Aubrey: They? Who's they? Who made her eyes weird?
- She #1: Goddesses.
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