“Hemingway and James Joyce were drinking buddies in Paris. Joyce was thin and bespectacled; Hemingway was tall and strapping. When they went out Joyce would get drunk, pick a fight with a bigger guy in the bar and then hide behind Hemingway and yell, “Deal with him, Hemingway. Deal with him.””
Twenty strangers kiss for the first time on camera, and it’s incredibly awkward and somehow adorable and brilliant and wonderful?
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
Um, Sara, I just went on an archive hunt - ‘cause I have an essay to write and I go deep with my procrastination - and if you watch until the end of this video the audio keeps playing for like another two minutes and it has all the other stuff we rambled about after the video cut off! Shoutouts to all sorts of people!
Also this was nearly four years ago, and I don’t know whether that feels like ancient history or like it just happened yesterday I don’t know man.
“Our homes do not have to offer us permanent occupancy or store our clothes to merit the name. To speak of home in relation to a building is simply to recognise its harmony with our own prized internal song. Home can be an airport or a library, a garden or a motorway diner.”
- Alain de Botton (via waxenneat)