#thiiiis

I found someone that gives the Raphael vibes PERFECTLY

I think, in history, we often see a false representation of women. The men are always the successors and, supposedly, of their own merit, which I don’t believe to be to true.

Lol I think for the most part Asian people are generally laid back people so that's why when you're in a fandom, they're less likely to hate anything at all. My friend from malay/sia was really surprised when I told her about people hating Touka. She's just neutral when it comes to Touka but she said something like 'Sounds like a waste of time to do that. Just focus on what you love. You'll stay young longer' and it sticks with me lol. But they tend to come up with the craziest theories tho lol.

Those with what we might call this ‘old fashioned’ view of authenticity condemn the multi-faceted, eclectic chameleon that is Paul McCartney for being a less deep and less mature artist on that account - yet the fact is that he has always guilelessly used the idioms he finds around him and that attract him. To a far greater extent than Lennon ever wanted to do (or perhaps could have done) McCartney has proved himself up for the job of adopting and adapting the voices and idioms of the changing decades, to remake himself more expertly, more resiliently and over a longer career (arguably) than any other musician on the planet. The fact makes some of us uncomfortable. From where we sit, at least, it seems too painless a process to be taken seriously. If only he had not had so much fun in the process. Even his distress over the death of Linda was largely kept private, withheld from us. Is there a puritanical strain in us that finds McCartney’s easy public conscience offensive?

Like many others before and since, Lennon could hardly avoid subverting the idealised public persona in which he and the world had together connived. The real Lennon was in his way as self-centred, insecure and hedonistic as any rich, spoiled pop star. Some of his most successful solo songs are sentimental, and the great offerings rise like gorgeous sunflowers out of a garden border whose planting, we have to admit, is not always so colourful and which would benefit from some weeding. But the Lennon of myth stands above it all like a statue in an alabaster suit, uncompromising, self-denying, a martyr to love and peace who (says the inscription) was true to himself in life and became in death the sainted genius that we all know.