One of the other girls here at Vili Flik has a rather (un)healthy obsession with Asian dancers, and I’m not sure whether I’m happy or unhappy to report that this obsession has started to spread, and that’s why, dear readers, I present to you the gorgeous and awesomely talented dancer Harry Shum Jr (1982 – ).
He might also be a tad known for playing Mike Chang in Glee (which, yes, I totally watch. There. Judge me as much as you want).
The glorious Shum started dancing in high school, and he tends to incorporate styles such as popping, locking, waving and breaking into his dance. And let me tell you, it’s brilliant. Which is probably why he’s a dancer and coreographer for the Legion of Extraordinary Dancers (I’m not a member, no, but thanks for asking). And the man tends to have great style as well, check it out:
Looking all nice and nerdy. Check out his dancing on Glee or youtube – you won’t regret it.
Calvin Klein (1942 – ) is an American fashion designer, who, like so many others both before and after him, decided to open a fashion house (great idea) and name it after himself (kind of boring idea – seriously, aren’t these people supposed to be kind of creative?). Anyway, Klein started studying fashion, but couldn’t be bothered to graducate, instead he launched Calvin Klein in 1968. He was, of course, immediately glorified for his glorious gloriousness. Let’s look at some of the reasons why:
Now, me and the Klein differ at some points – while I ADORE the theatricality of fashion, his clothes tend to be a protest against all the drama. Now, that might be a bit boring in a way – few colors, no patterns, simple – but the brilliance of Calvin Klein, I think, lies in the cut, the drapings, the tiny but significant details which show that this is great tailoring and design, and that again creates contrast and, Mr. Klein, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it adds drama. I think it’s lovely.
Dress: Read! by Hanna Volle
Today I present to you, dear readers, the wonderfully talented author Jeanette Winterson (1959 -).
And I shamelessly quote from her webpage: “Winterson was born in Manchester, England, and adopted by Pentecostal parents who brought her up in the nearby mill-town of Accrington. As a Northern working class girl she was not encouraged to be clever. Her adopted father was a factory worker, her mother stayed at home. There were only six books in the house, including the Bible and Cruden’s Complete Concordance to the Old and New Testaments. Strangely, one of the other books was Malory’s Morte d’Arthur, and it was this that started her life quest of reading and writing. Reading was not much approved unless it was the Bible. Her parents intended her for the missionary field. Schooling was erratic but Jeanette had got herself into a girl’s grammar school and later she read English at Oxford University.” And glad we are that she did not end up as a missionary! She wrote her first novel, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, at the age of 23. The novel was followed by the comic book Boating for Beginners and 13 more novels, including Lighthousekeeping, which has been featured on the blog before.
In 2006 Jeanette Winterson was awarded an OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire) for services to literature, and she has won various awards around the world for her fiction and adaptations, including the Whitbread Prize and the Prix d’argent Cannes Film Festival.
If you have not yet read any of her work, do so! She is brilliant!
The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman.
Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mute
beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate
with a mind as cold as the slice of ice
within my own brain. I started with the head.
Better off dead than giving in, not taking
what you want. He weighed a ton; his torso,
frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chill
piercing my gut. Part of the thrill was knowing
that children would cry in the morning. Life’s tough.
Sometimes I steal things I don’t need. I joy-ride cars
to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look.
I’m a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a
I watched my gloved hand twisting the doorknob.
A stranger’s bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this–Aah.
It took some time. Reassembled in the yard,
he didn’t look the same. I took a run
and booted him. Again. Again. My breath ripped out
in rags. It seems daft now. Then I was standing
alone amongst lumps of snow, sick of the world.
Boredom. Mostly I’m so bored I could eat myself.
One time I stole a guitar and thought I might
learn to play. I nicked a bust of Shakespeare once,
flogged it, but the snowman was strangest.
You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?
Carol Ann Duffy
Before I tell you about Hannah Schneider’s death, I’ll tell you about my mother’s.
I loved this book. I’ve read some reviews critizing Pessl’s literary style, but I honestly didn’t notice, or care, or both – I just loved the story. Special Topics in Calamity Physics (2006) was the debut novel of American Marisha Pessl (1977 – ). As usual, I’m too lazy to make up my own plot summary, so I’ve stolen one from The Guardian.
“The novel is the first-person narrative of Blue Van Meer, a bright teenager who since her mother’s death has travelled the country with her arrogant, pompous but devoted father Gareth, a peripatetic lecturer in political science who is, in his daughter’s eyes, “one of the pre-eminent commentators on American culture”. Blue spends her final high-school year at a private college in North Carolina. There she encounters the Bluebloods, an elite group of students who are the proteges of a charismatic film studies teacher, the compellingly mysterious Hannah Schneider, whom, we learn in the opening pages, Blue will find hanged during a camping trip. The first two-thirds of the book describes the long, fraught initiation of Blue into this glamorous and insular group, while the last third concerns Blue’s mounting suspicion that her enigmatic and beautiful teacher was somehow murdered.
[…] the novel suddenly becomes a page-turning murder mystery with a gratifyingly complex plot, a dizzying Usual Suspects-style narrative with nods to detective novelists conventional (Agatha Christie) and unconventional (Carlo Emilio Gadda). On a second reading, what appeared to be a high-school tale spatchcocked on to the story of an amateur detective is seen to be a ground-laying exercise of immense skill. Pessl’s strengths are revealed in her portrayal of the isolation and vunerability of adolescence, in Blue’s final, impenetrable loneliness and in the brave, completely satisfying ending, resolved yet open, which is the triumph of the book.”
The novel is full of references to books and old movies, each chapter using the title of another work of fiction, and it just made me want to read more. I also loved the character Blue – she is an outsider with more books than friends (sounds oddly familiary, doesn’t it?) and on her first day at a new school, she reflects that when you’re insecure you can do one of the two following things: Imagine yourself to be Grace Kelly, Gene Kelly, Marilyn Monroe og whoever OR read a book. (Once again, hello, story of my life).
It’s a good Saturday (and summer) read. Check it out.