Roving Sign

Female IRA member. Sexy or fucked up?

Jim Henson & Kermit talk with John Cleese

Sean Connery in a Wedding Dress

wwnorton:

Back by popular demand: Norton Clippy

scribnerbooks:

This.

[Source]

(via wnyc)

book-aesthete:

Who Goes There?
John W. Campbell. Chicago: Shasta Publishers, 1948.

First edition / First printing, Octavo, Hardcover, cloth boards in dust jacket. A near fine copy in a near fine dust jacket.

SIGNED by the author on the front free endpaper and therefore presumably one of an unknown number of subscriber’s copies signed by the author in this way. A classic collection of seven stories, first published in Astounding Science Fiction in the 1930’s by Campbell under the pseudonym Don A. Stuart. Basis for two Hollywood film versions including the 1951 RKO Picture “The Thing From Another World” and the 1982 John Carpenter classic “The Thing,” starring Kurt Russell.

A near fine copy with gilt titles to spine of publisher’s blue cloth, lightly rubbed with dusty top edge. Dust jacket with Hannes Bok wraparound illustration is bright and beautifully preserved, though with a touch of rubbing to rear panel, age-toning to spine panel, some mild edge wear, a tiny closed tear at upper edge of front panel, and internal tape reinforcement. Altogether, a very nice copy of a title, scarcely signed by the author.

(Source: )

proustitute:

Roberto Bolaño’s Chair/Arthur Rimbaud’s Fork and Spoon

Photos by Patti Smith

(via walkwhilereading)

theparisreview:

On Not Letting Go

(via wnyc)

gq:

The Sad, Strange Ballad of
the Hank Williams Notebook Songs

Attention music geeks: here is your longread of the week. On New Years Day in 1953, Hank Williams, the man who invented modern country music, died of an overdose in the backseat of his Cadillac at age 29. A few days later, his mama searched his house and made a secret discovery that—60 years later, with a little help from Bob Dylan, Jack White, Merle Haggard, Norah Jones, and Lucinda Williams—would allow old Hank’s ghost to rise from the grave. Here’s our favorite bit of musical historicana from GQ contributor Andrew Romano’s wise, affectionate piece—one that not only tells the strange story of these long lost notebooks but also tries to unlock the mystery of Hank’s magical songwriting along the way.

A few hours later, as reporters were conducting interviews, cops were gathering evidence, and family, friends, and lawyers were flooding in from across the South, the crew at N&W Motors in Oak Hill began cleaning out Hank’s Cadillac. Picking through a pile of empty beer cans, a worker spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the floor of the back seat. It was stained by a boot print and most likely scrawled on the drive:

We met, and lived
And dear we loved
Then came that fatal day
The love that felt so dear fades fast away
Tonight we both are all alone
And here’s all that I can say
I love you still and always will
But that’s the price we have to pay

Carr knew that Williams’s mother, Lilly, could be a handful. But even he was shocked by her first response when he called with the tragic news: “Don’t let anything happen to that car!” Then she hung up the phone. Within hours, Lilly was scrambling around Oak Hill, snatching up Hank’s possessions, including the lyric from the Cadillac. She knew it wouldn’t be the last one she’d find. Williams had been scribbling in notebooks with his little pencil stubs for as long as Lilly could remember, and he was always returning home with a billfold of half-completed songs and abandoned ideas under his arm. Her goal was to keep these nuggets of gold out of the hands of her despised daughter-in-law, who wasn’t scheduled to arrive in West Virginia until the following day.

Lilly didn’t discover any other treasures in Oak Hill. But Montgomery was more bountiful. On the morning of Hank’s funeral, Lilly waited until Billie Jean slipped into the bathroom to apply her makeup, then crept into her son’s quarters and started to snoop around. There, stuffed inside a shoebox—or a beat-up leather briefcase, depending on whose memory you trust—Lilly found what she’d been looking for: four bent, schoolboyish notebooks filled with handwritten lyrics.

Found on reddit’s list of best toasts:

“To pussy and gunpowder. Live by one, die by the other, and love the smell of both.”