Hockey players are well trained to never say anything that their opponents could use as bulletin-board material, and that’s especially true for a Kings team that has largely taken on coach Darryl Sutter’s personality. They treat the appearance of a camera or notepad like the critical hand of a high-stakes poker game; they’d probably do every interview wearing hoods and oversize sunglasses if the NHL would let them.
Matt Greene prefaced every answer with a long pause that suggested he was mentally compiling and ranking a list of the dumbest questions he’d heard all week. Jeff Carter answers are so laconic that I’d start referring to his spot on the podium as Dry Island if that weren’t already taken. And when it comes to doing interviews, I’m not completely convinced that Quick is even technically alive."
can i just fastforward to the year i get to move back to washington
as the next season of doctor who approaches its time for me to wrestle with the question
does my faith in peter capaldi outweigh my distrust of steven moffat
I am familiar with that question.
APPARENTLY THEY’RE YELLING AT EACH OTHER ON SET AND THE GENERAL VIBE IS PETER CAPALDI DECLARING THAT HE WILL NOT BE CHASED OFF THIS SHOW
so far i’ve seen southern, southwestern, and northeastern gothic, but nobody’s talked about how great MIDWESTERN GOTHIC could be. listen:
- weird happenstances in fields, bloody pawprints and pressed-down cornstalks, a clump of soybeans flattened into esoteric shapes
- small towns with big secrets multiplied by a thousand, uncanny locals with a hand for spells
- mysterious hitchhikers with glowing eyes on the side of a dimly-lit highway
- taking detours down a backwoods dirt road, getting entranced by the glowing lights in the thickly knotted woods (sure are a lot of fireflies out there. i’ll take a look. just for a moment.)
- dilapidated buildings, the old falling-apart house in the empty lot at the end of the road you always avoid without knowing why. the crumbling farmhouse by your grandparent’s place in the country that calls to you when you drive past it in the dark
- billboards proclaiming HELL IS REAL, mile upon mile of windmills that uproot themselves and rearrange in the night
- always traveling, the significance of crossroads, staying in a shoddy old hotel advertised with a flickering neon light, surrounded by miles of pavement
- more weird field happenstances because fields are so important. mint that can charm a village, blueberry patches with torn and dirty pieces of fine clothing in them. unnatural noises from cornfields at night, figures near it that can only be glimpsed out of the corner of your eye
…this is actually my life.