the amazing adventures of kavalier & clay
» rose leslie as sam clay
» betty grable as tracy bacon
a manila envelope containing a large black-and-white photograph of a beautiful woman with hair that shone like a sheet of molded chrome. the mouth a hard thin line, but the eyes holding a reserve of delight, as if she is about to break into a smile. in the lower right corner of the picture an inscription, signed tracy bacon, written in a large and looping hand: to the girl who dreamed me up, with affection.
aaron tveit performing we are never ever getting back together at 54 below, may 3
jay’s favourite line, “all in due time”
now you look at me like, “damn, dog, you where i am”
a hip-hop legend
i think i died in an accident ‘cause this must be heaven
you always break the kindest heart
“You do not believe in anything.”
“I believe in you.”
“Grantaire, will you do me a service?”
“Anything. I’ll black your boots.”
with a hasty word you can’t recall
Grantaire was drinking in a melancholy way.
“Enjolras disdains me,” he muttered. “Enjolras said: ‘Grantaire is drunk.’ If he had come for me, I would have followed him. So much the worse for Enjolras! I won’t go to his funeral.”
if i broke your heart last night
He sat down, put his elbows on a table near the window, looked at Enjolras with indescribable gentleness, and said to him:—
“Let me sleep here.”
“Go and sleep somewhere else,” cried Enjolras.
But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes fixed on him, replied:—
“Let me sleep here,—until I die.”
it’s because i love you most of all
And turning gently to Enjolras, he said to him:
“Do you permit it?”
Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile.
These scenes from 2008’s “Milk” are based on real conversations between Harvey Milk and a young disabled gay man living in rural Minnesota, detailed in Randy Shilts’ award-winning 1982 biography of Harvey Milk, The Mayor of Castro Street:
The phone rang. A young voice said he was seventeen years old, in Richmond, Minnesota. He was about to kill himself because his parents were going to institutionalize him for being gay. Harvey took the call, confident he could do some crash counseling; the young man was, after all, the lonely teenage constituent for whom Harvey had tailored all his candidacies. “Run away from home,” Harvey urged. “Get on the bus, go to the next biggest city. Just leave.”
The young man started crying. He was confined to a wheelchair and couldn’t get on any bus, he said. That moment marked one of the only times tears would ever come to Harvey’s eyes. Everything was so much more goddamn complex than he could say in his hope speech.
The night that Prop 6, a piece of legislation which would have banned homosexuals from teaching in public schools, was defeated, Harvey called his friend Don Amador, who had been celebrating the victory at a party with an eighteen-year-old from Richmond, Minnesota, whom Harvey might remember. The disabled young man who, a year before, was ready to kill himself because his parents were going to institutionalize him, had followed Harvey’s advice, taken his crutches, and boarded a bus for Los Angeles. He had registered to vote and that day cast his first ballot - against Prop 6. Harvey rarely showed emotion, but his voice cracked when he heard the news.
The eighteen-year-old could hardly wait to meet his hero.
for the thoughtfulness of his gaze one might have supposed that in some previous existence he had lived through all the turmoil of the revolution.