The Labyrinthine

October 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — thelabyrinthine @ 3:13 pm
A classic Education / I Lost Time

also, parts of the initial scenes reminded me of the 1906 cable car footage in San Fransciso.  I wonder if they did use it.


Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — thelabyrinthine @ 12:58 pm


[via pekthong]

October 25, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: — thelabyrinthine @ 4:21 pm

October 24, 2010

You say toma-toes, I say tomae-toes

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , — thelabyrinthine @ 11:32 pm

X: So what did your mom say?


X: Who are you yelling at?  And why?

Y: huh? Oh, I’m watching the Packers game.  You’ve never seen me watch football, I get really loud.

X: OK…So what did yo…


X: wow.

Y: You wouldn’t understand.  You probably play cricket or something.

X: I used to play when I was a kid, and yes I do love cricket.

Y: You did.  I knew it.

X: What’s wrong with that?  It’s better than your fake football that you play with your hands.

Y: OK, whatever.  Boring.  Can I call you back?  I have to finish this game.



October 20, 2010

On Eisenberg and Cera

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , — thelabyrinthine @ 9:23 pm

According to a Newsweek piece:

“The characters Cera and Eisenberg play are most notable for their innocence. Both actors are exceptional at standing around with squirmy, uncomfortable expressions on their faces while the other characters make asses of themselves. Neither is teen-idol handsome, yet the essential good-heartedness of their characters ensures the audience roots for them to get the girl. They usually both play boys, on the cusp of becoming men, whose intelligence both alienates them from their peers, and enables them to remain secure in themselves—even when they don’t quite fit in.”

Ha, could not have put it better!  And is it any wonder?  They play, what would be my type, if I ever admitted to having one!

Filed under: Uncategorized — thelabyrinthine @ 9:10 pm


Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , — thelabyrinthine @ 2:58 pm

X: Stop being a brat.

Y: Don’t yell at me, I’m sick!  You are not allowed to yell at me when I’m sick.

X: [Sigh]  OK.

Y: And I can be a brat when I’m sick.  [And besides, it’ll just be like what I go through every day dealing with you]

X: Excuse me?  I heard that! You think I’m a brat all the time?  That is so not true!

Y: You can’t disagree with me either, and you can’t say mean things to me when I’m sick.

X: OK, but stop trying to tickle me!  I told you I hate that.

Y: No, I can tickle you.  You have to let me tickle you whenever I want when I’m sick.

X: You tickle me and I won’t show up at 2:30 in the morning tomorrow to take care of you.

Y: Noooooooooo….

X: OK OK, stop.


This flu business is quite an annoyance.  And it get’s rather interesting when you are dealing with it as best as you can, and then infect a 25 year old child (aka boyfriend)  in the process.  I was under the impression that no one could do the royalty complex better than I, but oh brother!  Ehh, two peas in a pod :|

October 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: — thelabyrinthine @ 10:20 pm

October 17, 2010

Shakespeare and Company

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , — thelabyrinthine @ 2:51 pm

Shakespeare & Co. Antiquarian Books, Paris.  Probably the most photographed bookstore of the world. Photography by Simple Dolphin

A view from inside the bookstore Shakespeare & Co in Paris. Photo by Toshio Kishiyama

On the third floor of the bookstore Shakespeare & Co. in Paris, you’ll find this bed and the motice board behind. Photography by Glynnis Ritchie

Down and out in Paris

For half a century, a crowded bookshop on the Left Bank has offered food and a bed to penniless authors – the only rule is that they read a book a day. Jeanette Winterson revisits Shakespeare and Company


The Guardian, Saturday 7 March 2009

“Way back, in 1913, the original Shakespeare and Company was opened by a young American called Sylvia Beach. Her shop in rue de l’Odéon soon became the place for all the English-speaking writers in Paris. Her lover, Adrienne Monnier, owned the French bookstore across the road, and she and Beach ran back and forth, finding penniless writers a place to stay, lending them books, arranging loans, taking their mail, sending their work to small magazines and, most spectacularly, publishing James Joyce’s Ulysses in 1922 when no one else would touch it.

Hemingway was a regular at the shop, and writes about it in his memoir A Moveable Feast. His spare, emotional prose makes a poignant story of those early days, when material things weren’t so important, and if you could get time to read and write, and live on cheap oysters and coarse bread and sleep by a stove somewhere, then you were happy.

It was Hemingway, as a major in the US army, who at the liberation of Paris in 1945 drove his tank straight to the shuttered Shakespeare and Company and personally liberated Sylvia Beach. “No one that I ever knew was nicer to me,” he said later, rich, famous and with a Nobel prize.

But after the war, Beach was older and tired. She didn’t reopen the shop that had been forced into closure by the occupation. It was George Whitman who took over the spirit of what she had made, but not the name – until 1962, when Beach attended a reading by Lawrence Durrell at the bookstore and they all agreed that it should be renamed Shakespeare and Company.

George took in the beat poets Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso. Henry Miller ate from the stewpot, but was too grand to sleep in the tiny writers’ room. Anaïs Nin left her will under George’s bed. There are signed photos from Rudolf Nureyev and Jackie Kennedy, signed copies of Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs.

George opened his doors midday to midnight, and the deal then is the deal now: sleep in the shop, on tiny beds hidden among the bookstacks; work for two hours a day helping out with the running of the place; and, crucially, read a book a day, whatever you like, but all the way through, unless maybe it’s War and Peace, in which case you can take two days.

George still reads a book a day, and gets very cross if he hears that anyone is wasting his time. You can be bawled out of Shakespeare and Company just as suddenly as you are invited in. The spirit of the place has to be honoured, and there are no exceptions.”

Happy Meal

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — thelabyrinthine @ 2:16 pm

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