black holes and gray matter. in one thousand tangos.

             
“We are on red alert when it comes to how we are perceiving ourselves as a species…There’s no desire to be an adult. Adulthood is not a goal. It’s not seen as a gift. Something happened culturally: No one is supposed to age past 45 — sartorially, cosmetically, attitudinally. Everybody dresses like a teenager. Everybody dyes their hair. Everybody is concerned about a smooth face.”
 “I was often told that I wasn’t a thing…‘She’s not pretty enough, she’s not tall enough, she’s not thin enough, she’s not fat enough.’ I thought, ‘O.K., someday you’re going to be looking for someone not, not, not, not, and there I’ll be.’ ”
“I’ve been with a man for 35 years who looks at me and loves what he sees.”
Our Lady Frances

“We are on red alert when it comes to how we are perceiving ourselves as a species…There’s no desire to be an adult. Adulthood is not a goal. It’s not seen as a gift. Something happened culturally: No one is supposed to age past 45 — sartorially, cosmetically, attitudinally. Everybody dresses like a teenager. Everybody dyes their hair. Everybody is concerned about a smooth face.”

 “I was often told that I wasn’t a thing…‘She’s not pretty enough, she’s not tall enough, she’s not thin enough, she’s not fat enough.’ I thought, ‘O.K., someday you’re going to be looking for someone not, not, not, not, and there I’ll be.’ ”

“I’ve been with a man for 35 years who looks at me and loves what he sees.”

Our Lady Frances

"I’m always sad.""Are there certain thoughts associated with the sadness?""No, the sadness is under the thoughts. It’s like when you’re on a camping trip, and it’s really cold, and you put on extra socks, and an extra sweater, but you still can’t get warm, because the coldness is in your bones.""Do you hope to get away from it?""Not anymore. I just hope to come to peace with it."
humansofnewyork

"I’m always sad."
"Are there certain thoughts associated with the sadness?"
"No, the sadness is under the thoughts. It’s like when you’re on a camping trip, and it’s really cold, and you put on extra socks, and an extra sweater, but you still can’t get warm, because the coldness is in your bones."
"Do you hope to get away from it?"
"Not anymore. I just hope to come to peace with it."

humansofnewyork

(via frangis45)

"[B]efore Tilda Swinton was this strapping space aristocrat, or pensive movie star, or fabulously tailored fashion hologram with an ever-mutating, post­-human ­coiffure (it’s mixed with yak hair in Only Lovers), she was, like many of us, someone avoiding a set of expectations laid down before her. Swinton is the descendant of a medieval clan of Anglo-Scot toffs, a tall, clever girl sent away early to boarding school (where she studied for a while alongside the future Princess Diana), the daughter of a major general in the Scots Guards who was expected to, as she understood it at the time, not be too freaky, or too much ­herself, for that ­matter—whoever she was exactly—and probably, as she once joked, marry a duke.
Regal, then, comes as naturally to her as her clipped upper-caste accent. But she has also become very much her own exquisite thing, only attaining widespread fame in her 40s (in part for being this in extremis beauty), just as more ­ingénue types are in panicky plastic-surgery ­shoring-up mode. Everyone describes her as a space oddity—related: the Tumblr (­TildaStardust) dedicated to the zany notion she and David Bowie are actually the same person—and it’s easy to see her as the alabaster ambassador from a more advanced corner of the galaxy. She talks about her friends as her heroes, whose faces “are lining my space capsule that is hurtling through space.” 
Hell, send her an email and the auto-reply you get back says: 
'Hello, I am away until 01/01/2070 and am unable to read your message.'”
Tilda Swinton Is Not Quite of This World

"[B]efore Tilda Swinton was this strapping space aristocrat, or pensive movie star, or fabulously tailored fashion hologram with an ever-mutating, post­-human ­coiffure (it’s mixed with yak hair in Only Lovers), she was, like many of us, someone avoiding a set of expectations laid down before her. Swinton is the descendant of a medieval clan of Anglo-Scot toffs, a tall, clever girl sent away early to boarding school (where she studied for a while alongside the future Princess Diana), the daughter of a major general in the Scots Guards who was expected to, as she understood it at the time, not be too freaky, or too much ­herself, for that ­matter—whoever she was exactly—and probably, as she once joked, marry a duke.

Regal, then, comes as naturally to her as her clipped upper-caste accent. But she has also become very much her own exquisite thing, only attaining widespread fame in her 40s (in part for being this in extremis beauty), just as more ­ingénue types are in panicky plastic-surgery ­shoring-up mode. Everyone describes her as a space oddity—related: the Tumblr (­TildaStardust) dedicated to the zany notion she and David Bowie are actually the same person—and it’s easy to see her as the alabaster ambassador from a more advanced corner of the galaxy. She talks about her friends as her heroes, whose faces “are lining my space capsule that is hurtling through space.”

Hell, send her an email and the auto-reply you get back says:

'Hello, I am away until 01/01/2070 and am unable to read your message.'”

Tilda Swinton Is Not Quite of This World

©2011 Kateoplis