what if you clicked on every article posted in your facebook news feed
what if you submitted, finally, to the overwhelming morass of links to click on, and you just slipped into it silently, and said goodbye to all your worldly affairs
last night we watched the world’s end and now I don’t know what to do with this crazy abrupt searing crush I have on Simon Pegg and his haggard tragic Britishy face. How can one man be born with so much brute charisma? He could charm his way out of Hell itself, and that is a movie I would like to see
I appreciated Pegg’s character’s commitment to freedom, total freedom. Freedom of and from all things, freedom to be completely alone and not a member of society. I loved the Cabin in the Woodsy ending where the world actually does end and nobody really cares that much. Liberation from Starbucksian homogeneity and social obligation is preferable to living dishonestly within the confines of an ordered civilization! And Simon Pegg’s commitment to freedom even leads him so far as to abandon humanity altogether. He is a lord of chaos–he’s finally clean-shaven and sober at the end, having become self-actualized through the obliteration of human society and the necessity of unwillingly scraping by within it, pretending that any of its rules have any inherent meaning or worth. Literally ripping the head off his younger self! Give him individuality or give him death at the hands of a creeping and bitter mortality! Powerful! Terrifying! What a silver fox! I love a man in his forties, good lord. I found myself significantly more attracted to John Glaser’s deeply committed and wonderful portrayal of Laird the aging junkie (on “Girls”) than I have ever been to any of the lithe, beautiful, sociopathic 20-somethings populating that show. I love a lined face and some old beat-up teeth and eyes that have seen stuff you would not believe at age 20. I love silvering hair and wrinkles around the eyes and creepy inexplicable scars in hard-to-reach places. I love a man whose body gets sore.
I also love a Brit, always have
There is a certain kind of American child who gets obsessed with British comedy. Why? What makes an American child in the 1980s turn to the dry, absurdist, shame-based comedy of a culture she doesn’t understand? And then you go out in the world and you find your people, those others who memorized The Holy Grail to the chagrin of all their classmates, and all of them–these others you find–are such NERDS. Are you a nerd too? You guess so
The first boy I ever really seriously made out with was a Brit. Now he’s 40 and has a bunch of kids and speaks Russian.
Probably gonna be my final thought