Hi team! I had a lovely baptism yesterday, you shoulda been there. It was in the SEA and a WHALE appeared as a physical manifestation of God being particularly excited about my conversion, as opposed to some random conversion. A+++ would be immersed in the Pacific again, would recommend it to others. Now, let’s see what we loved this week on The Toast!
Mallory and I yelled a WHOLE BUNCH about Crimson Peak and we regret nothing:
Mallory: and somehow leaves are falling through the roof even though there are CLEARLY NO TREES NEARBY
Nicole: Like, c’mon, now, I don’t think of myself as high-maintenance, but I would have told my manservant to put my trunk back on the carriage, bc we are staying at the Ritz until my contractor is done.
NO TREES
Mallory: this movie looked like a Silent Hill cutscene and an Emily the Strange journal cover had a goth baby
and I LOVED IT
Star Trek dreams and Geoff Marcy:
According to TV.com, Geoff Marcy guest-starred in a 2001 BBC special called “Star Trek Night.” The Times article noted that his dreams were “the stuff of TV fantasy, a ‘Star Trek’ script.” Back here at home, was Geoff Marcy trying to live in his own personal episode of Star Trek? In the realm of sexuality, unfortunately, his fantasies seemed to override any more current information he might have received about what is and is not appropriate behavior. As a faculty member at Berkeley, I can attest that we are mandated to receive training on sexual harassment every other year. I have taken the the in-person training, the online training, and the fun theater skit-based training, and I know that during his sixteen years at this university, Marcy was certainly given the information that his behavior was unwelcome, inappropriate, illegal, and might cost him his job. Yet the dated fantasy trope of the space opera with the bold explorer hero does not die easily.
“Oh you should be like this,” but I’m not even any kind of way
Simon Le Bon and The Goldfinch:
Nintendo was founded in 1889. I was born 100 years later. It didn’t take long for my parents to see how different I was from my older, neurotypical (non-autistic) brother. My senses were fragile, and easily overwhelmed. Loud environments like parties and restaurants compelled me to scream and hide, like a dog scared by fireworks on the Fourth of July. I began each day by sprinting from room to room, flipping on every light in the house to banish the oppressive dark. Worst of all, my nerves construed even the softest touch of another person as a brutal hammer strike. I lived with the certainty that I’d been dropped into a maze of spikes and lava from some gentler, faraway place, which would forever lie beyond my reach.
EMILY GILMORE’S LATE-IN-LIFE LESBIANISM
