Seriously though The Village is becoming one of my favorite party games. Even when the narrator sucks all the different player types make it fun.
John Phillips, Marquess of Anglesey. Wales, 1950.
Just sent a message that could either be taken as “Let’s be platonic best friends forever.” or “When I talk to you I get a tingly sensation in my toes and my stomach. I don’t think it has anything to do with coffee.”
The worst part is I’m not sure which interpretation I’d want them to have.
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)
For I’m a Thinking Cap!
I am yet a font of frail and false, of starts;
But the fact is, making movies is time out for me because the rest, the nearly complete whole, is what’s real for me. I’m not an actor and haven’t been for years. I’m a human being — hopefully a concerned and somewhat intelligent one — who occasionally acts.
Yesterday a small group of us went out to one of the highest lookout points in the canyon to watch the sunset as one last “adventure” before they left. The stairs to the lookout were closed off for the night so instead of giving up we did a little bit of creative rock climbing and ended up with a view that was almost better. We started doing all the stereotypical last hurrah stuff that made me go wow this is so stupid but perfect I’m going to miss you idiots.
On the way back we picked a random station and the entire ride back to camp seemed to be songs about saying goodbye. Oh, and Call Me Maybe.