via The Millikan Daily right here on the wordpress.
Grow up, Heather: bulimia is so 1987.
Winona Ryder rocks a monocle in Heathers (Michael Lehmann, 1989). Look for a Heathers movie moment one of these days soon. Maybe a millisecond later today as a foretaste, even.
“A cynic is a man who looks at the world with a monocle in his mind’s eye.” — Carolyn Wells (1862-1942): librarian, mystery writer, poet, absurdist, Jersey girl, baseball aficionado; heroine.
Via timbravo on the tumblr. Hell and goddang if that is not just about the g’est picture of a little kid I have ever seen.
Ms. Well’s famous limerick abount canny canners:A canner exceedingly canny
One morning remarked to his granny:
“A canner can can
Any thing that he can
But a canner can’t can a can, can he?”
Illustration from Such Nonsense.
The awesome Ms. Wells, who began her literary career as a librarian in Rahway, NJ, had a binary-brained love of both words and wordplay, resulting in the kind of mind that invents riddles and complex, skillful patterns out of what appears to be nonsense. She compiled and published an anthology of clever verses by herself, some friends, and great absurd poets of the past who she admired called Such nonsense! an Anthology through George H. Doran Company, New York, in 1918. Some of the authors included in the anthology are G. K. Chesterton, Rudyard Kipling, William Makepeace Thackeray, Carroll, and W. S. Gilbert. You can read the entirety of the volume on the googlebooks, one of the seemingly last bastions that values lit without lumping it alongside lattes and shitty cd samplers of some Juilliard sophomore covering Bessie Smith. You know the kind of horrible CD sampler I am talking about:
Via officineottiche on the tumblr.
All black and white picture of the skinny blonde singer playing piano on the cover with her eyes closed, all you push the button on the screen to hear a sample and it sounds immediately like she has grown up on at least a quarter acre with probably a pony that she rode in jodphurs until she decided she wanted to be a ballerina instead but she was never so vulgar or interesting as to imagine combining the two interests and she is presently dating a trust fund guy with dreads who was obsessively checking his iTouchPhonesALot thingy the entire time she was in the studio making what we are broadly defining as a “record,” the record apparently being a record of the time some flat chick from upstate New York saw a homeless guy pawing through the trash in front of the Dean and Deluca and decided that because she had Feelings about it, she now had the right to perform herself some blues and has now come at the undertaking metaphorically wearing goggles and carrying a graduated cyllinder. (“Blues, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me.”)
Like so many times with me, that got way out of hand. I’m not sorry, but I am a little disappointed in myself. Seriously, though, dudes. Fuck the megabookstores: save the libraries.
Seen in several places. I choose not to credit until I can find an original source.
That last shot reminds me — PSA: I have pretty eyes. In fact, I have the prettiest brown eyes. Did You Know? Established fact, suckas. [citation needed]
It’s Monocle Monday, because why not? Monocles: they are a Thing.
Robert Downey, Jr., check out his debut studio album.
Jeremy Irons has opinions about the Seven Deadly Sins.
Conrad Veidt was once Cesare — he came, he saw, he conquered Expressionist film.
Of course, it is not always so black and white in this world…
Madwoman and fashionista to the stars, Pat Field is often not much my style, but I must always commend distinctiveness.
Happy Monocle Monday!
The Thought Experiment 