Daily Archives: May 22, 2012

A hero in words & images

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The thing about a hero is, even when there doesn’t look like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, he’s going to keep digging, he’s going to keep trying to do right and make up for what’s gone before, because that’s just who he is.~ Joss Whedon

It’s not just children who need heroes.~Tamora Pierce

Heroism means doing the right thing, regardless of the consequences.~Brandon Mull, A World Without Heroes

Perhaps elements like tenacity and humility combine to form an heroic compound.~ Brad Herzog.

There is no shame in fear . . . but. . .  the coward is ruled by fear, while the hero rides it like a wild stallion.~ David Gemmell, Dark Moon

Nottie’s tin god: TAE Word for the Day

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tin god: (noun) (1) A pompous, self-important person. (2) A person who considers himself or herself infallible and tries to dictate standards of behavior or belief.

This term refers to the fact that tin as a base metal compared with other, more precious metals. In other words, petty or of little value. First documented use was before 1880.

Could one describe a certain beady-eyed, treacherous troll as a little tin god? A clue–yes!

Thank heavens we have Guy–who is the pure platinum sex god of Nottingham!!! He’s OUR baddie. 😉

Who are some other tin gods you might have noticed in RA’s productions?

The secret language of fans

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Singer/songwriter/pianist Johnnie Ray’s heyday was before my time. He sticks in my mind mainly due to a reference in one of my favorite 80s songs, “Come On Eileen” by Dexie’s Midnight Runners (Poor old Johnnie Ray sounded sad upon the radio/he moved a million hearts in mono)

Johnnie Ray, born in Oregon in 1927, was a fellow American, but he seems to have been a much bigger star in England and, later, in Australia. Ray became famous in the early 50s due to a couple of songs, “Cry” and “The Little White Cloud that Cried.” Johnnie was known for his on-stage histrionics, sobbing into the microphone, tearing at his hair, falling to the floor as if in pain. Adults were shocked to see a white male singer showing so much emotion on stage, but the teenagers ate it up.

Here he is singing his biggest hit:

So, why do I bring up this singer who has, it seems, been largely forgotten? Because I am currently reading a novel set in the mid 1950s, The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets and its young narrator, Penelope, is English and absolutely besotted with this singer.

I don’t think it was just because Johnnie made me want to faint and fall over . . . it was more to do with the spark of his performance, the newness of his movements. He looked to me like the man I wanted to marry, and when he opened his mouth and sang, the whole world could have stopped and I would not have noticed.

I left the cinema in a daze, stirred with yearning and desire for the first time, jittery and disoriented by the sudden, stomach-flipping adoration for a real man, and not one of Inigo’s friends with Johnnie, this vision of loveliness, this American dreamboat . . . when it came down to it, his emotion, his heartache was something I understood. ~ Eva Rice, The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets

Does this sound in any way famliar to you? It did to me. I felt a smile tugging at my lips as I read Penelope’s words, waxing rhapsodic about this performer, and, in a later passage, how relieved she was to discover her new friend Charlotte shared her admiration for Mr. Ray, “as if we spoke the same secret language.”

We all seem to speak the same secret language of Richard Armitage.

Frustrated in LA (but there’s always RA)

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After slipping into a semi-comatose state  for  half the day, I’ve been trying to reach the state unemployment office again. And yet again, no luck. I’m feeling a bit like banging my head against the nearest wall. However, my head is feeling reasonably well right now, so I am going to resist the impulse.
Besides, I have no health insurance so poor Benny would be left having to patch me up. OK, Pity Party over for now. More of the pretty, pretty man in various roles . . . enjoy.