Pop’s man-eater gets an unlikely collaborator (via Taylor Swift’s ‘Trouble (Yelling Goats Remix)’ Is the Internet’s Finest Creation)
They were standing outside of Voorhees Theater. It was chilly outside and she had forgotten to wear a scarf. It was unlike her to forget things, though she had been very forgetful lately and wasn’t exactly sure why. Nothing had happened out of the ordinary. There were no family catastrophes to look after. There were no blunders at work to make her fear the possibility of losing her job as she so often did. Things were getting on just as they should, one day at a time with nothing new to report but a nuance. The coffee shop was closed for renovations, the bus diver managed to drive carefully, she left the office that day at the usual hour of 7pm. There was nothing to steal her mind away from that which was mundane or perfunctory. That morning, before J. called, she noticed a collie skittering around the park enjoying what was left of the warm summer sunshine. Summer seemed particularly long that year and yet her memory of it had already faded, already seemed so distant. Was she trying to forget something? No, better to say she was searching for something to remember but couldn’t get passed the things that carried with them a deep feeling of sadness, loss and regret. What was she trying to remember? What was it she couldn’t forget?
She stood there letting the cold turn her fingertips blue. Yes, it was unlike her to forget things, but it was also unlike her to be dating someone like J. a man so sure of the way things should be. How could someone like him find someone like her very interesting? She was always questioning everything. The simplest matter would transport her into a land of a thousand what ifs. J., on the other hand, was always so resolute, so perfectly certain about everything right down to the last stitch. Perhaps, she thought, that was the same thing. It was her birthday. “Shall we go inside? Curtain is in 10 minutes. We don’t want to be one of those people now do we?”
“No, of course not. I mean, yes. Yes, of course. Let’s go inside.”
He laughed and brushed away an autumn leaf that had fallen on the shoulder of her coat. “There. That’s better.” He held out his hand and they walked toward the door.
That morning, she was sitting in the park when J. called to wish her a happy birthday.
“You remembered,” she said. “I’m flattered.”
“8pm, Voorhees Theater. Maurice Maeterlinck’s The Intruder. Prepare to revise your faith in the human experience.”
It is so cold, that i can’t get this song out of my head. my face feels like a block of ice.
(Source: Spotify)
Greek police arrested the editor of a weekly magazine for publishing a list of more than 2,000 names of wealthy Greeks who have placed money in Swiss bank accounts, police said. (…)
The list has inspired heated discussion in near-bankrupt Greece, where public anger at politicians and the wealthy elite grows as austerity measures take a toll on the poorer sections of society.
(via fuckyeahmarxismleninism)
We in the office are grooving to this gorgeous debut single “SHE” by Laura Mvula today. The Guardian calls this totally original sound “baroque pop,” and says, “It’s like hearing Billie Holiday with the Beach Boys.” We agree.
Mvula is recording her debut album with Grammy-winning producer Tom…
