Flynn, I’ve always loved Nina. Even when I was nine years old and had never heard her name or saw her face and thought she was a man. So, it was always gonna be awesome, because it’s Nina. About halfway through I started thinking, because that’s what I do, “So, what does it say about
Browsing tag: Flynn
When we were young we used to write letters to one another from aboard Venetian gondolas and beneath Cambodian crypts. Flamboyant and fabulous. All the places we will be from. On Thursday, this arrived in the post. Hang in there, yeah?
I don’t take compliments very well. They make me feel all squirmy and uncomfortable. But Flynn doesn’t compliment lightly. Or insincerely. I received the most touching note from her the other day. And her words made me feel capable. And worthy. I like words like that.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
Buffy, You know what I find exhilarating? Reading something like this: The light of our cigarettes Went and came in the gloom. Flynn: Photo Courtesy of Three Kinds of Yes It is a simile with “like” suppressed: Pound called it an equation, meaning not a redundancy, A equals A, but a generalization of unexpected exactness.
Flynn: I read this morning that Bette Midler’s husband bought her the entire Penguin Classics series. That’s adorable. I have a real soft spot for her cause she’s just so brassy and sassy but self-aware and, you know, Beaches. Me: I’m with you on Bette. Also, she’s top heavy. And I like those sort of
After watching Jane Austen’s finest (version 2005) and developing not a little crush on Matthew Macfadyen… I’ve spent hours-into-days staring slack jawed at the Painted Hall. Wanting to touch, but not touch, the Veiled Vestal. Wishing the huge yew maze was large enough to get lost in. (It really isn’t.) It’s this thing you do