still thinking: How do you break free without breaking apart?

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

How do you break free without breaking apart?

Apparently, they have the answer. Much as I wouldn't want to talk Oscars... Ok, whatever, let me post this fantastic photo instead of one of the most indubitable tandems, real-life at that, of 2008. Vanity Fair released this, and other actor-director tandems, weeks before ceremonies, but I'm posting it now.

Due to insistent public demand, or rather, due to a demand made publicly (hi Andy, hehe), I'm posting also the Woody-Penelope photo. What conjures up your mind?

4 comments:

Visual Velocity said...: I remember buying the Hollywood issue of Vanity Fair regularly back when the covers were really drop dead gorgeous. My favorite is the one with Natalie Portman, Joaquin Phoenix, Djimon Hounsou, and Vince Vaughn.

Is that Sam Mendes and Kate Winslet? Did Annie Leibovitz take the picture?; Tuesday, February 24, 2009 8:55:00 AM
jayclops said...: Yes, Andy, that's Sam and Kate. And yes, Annie Leibovitz took it. You should check out the other pictures. There's Gus-Sean, Danny-Dev, Darren-Mickey, John-Meryl, Woody-Penelope, Clint and others I forgot. I want to post all of it here but I dunno...; Tuesday, February 24, 2009 4:11:00 PM
Visual Velocity said...: I wanna see Woody-Penelope...

Can you post it?

Ehehe.; Tuesday, February 24, 2009 9:12:00 PM
lucas said...: i watched the oscars the other night and i'm glad that kate won...

i love the pics...very exquisite tone :); Friday, February 27, 2009 12:43:00 AM

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Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting