Did You Know Queen Anne Was a Lesbian?

Queen Anne Stuart of the House of Tudor, who ruled England from 1702 to 1714, was married to Prince George of Denmark. But, as happens with many royal marriages, it seems George didn’t quite warm the “cockles of her heart.”

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Anne had what’s called a dull role in English history. People said she was dull. And yet, she helped England transition to Protestantism, and was the last Stuart to hold the throne.

That’s not all, though. It’s said that Anne had romantic relationships with many women – most of which have been revealed on account of letters to and by Anne.

The most famous of Anne’s lovers was the aristocrat Sarah Churchill, who was a descendant of Mr. Winston Churchill. She had a 25-year relationship with Anne. In a letter to Sarah, Anne wrote:

“I hope I shall get a moment or two to be with my dear . . . that I may have one embrace, which I long for more than I can express.”

Their relationship ended bitterly, however, on account of Sarah’s allegedly “manipulative” behavior. It seems she could have learned a lot from her descendant Winston.

ATTITUDE IS A LITTLE THING THAT MAKES A BIG DIFFERENCE.

Sarah wasn’t Anne’s last lover, though. Way to get back on the horse, Anne! But then she died at age 49, ending both her reign and her romantic escapades.

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The Dark Side of FINDING NEVERLAND

Everyone knows Peter Pan. Everyone loves him. So everyone loves J.M. Barrie, too.

But the true story behind the book is much darker than you may imagine. The poignant film Finding Neverland popularized Barrie’s friendship with the Llewelyn-Davies family, examining the powerful relationships that brought Peter Pan into existence. Johnny Depp portrayed Barrie wonderfully, and Kate Winslet made a perfect Sylvia Llewelyn-Davies.

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Barrie was a constant companion to Sylvia and her boys, despite the fact that both he and Sylvia were married to other people. Some people have argued that Barrie was a pedophile, to explain his close relationship with the Llewelyn-Davies boys – a nasty accusation, as there were no grounds for it.

Nico Llewelyn-Davies stated that Barrie NEVER behaved inappropriately. He said, “I don’t believe that Uncle Jim ever experienced what one might call a ‘stirring in the undergrowth’ for anyone – man, woman or child. He was an innocent, which is why he could write Peter Pan.”

Sylvia died when the boys were young, and Barrie became a guardian to them. His relationship with them continued well past their childhood, but the story that begins to unfold at the end of Finding Neverland is actually a very sad one. George Llewelyn-Davies was killed in action in WWI, in 1915. Michael drowned in 1921, with his friend and possible lover, Rupert Buxton. Peter died by throwing himself in front of a train.

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“God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.” – J.M. Barrie

So, I Knew a Guy Who Said He Knew Stephen King . . .

Well, this guy didn’t really KNOW Stephen King. They just used to live really close to one another. One time, this guy said he saw King walking by in the road, and said “Hey.” King looked up, said “Hey” back — very politely, this guy said — then looked back down, and continued on his way.

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This guy also told me a little bit more background about King’s initial success, which I’m sure he didn’t hear from King himself, just from other sources. But it always interested him, I guess, on account of the fact that he’d once said “Hey” to King. Which, admittedly, is pretty cool.

But anyway. King’s first book was Carrie, and he had tons of trouble finding a publisher for it. Eventually, he got so frustrated, he threw the whole manuscript away, and vowed that he was done with it. But his wife went looking for it in the garbage, and went round to other publishers without telling him, eventually securing him a contract. That’s what the guy told me, anyway.

I just thought it was an interesting and inspiring story, so I thought I’d share it. Thanks for reading!

The Doll’s the Thing.

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“Dolls turn malignant late at night. They stare at you with those glassy eyes. I won’t say they are plotting, but I can’t say they aren’t.” — Stephen King

I find myself enamored with this quote. Probably it is because of Sally, who sits beside my bed, with a porcelain face and real human hair. I have told everyone that she attempts to strangle me, each night in my sleep — but for some reason or other, they refuse to believe me. Perhaps it is her angelic countenance. Not angelic to me, though. To me, she is the devil.

I lie awake for hours, staring at Sally. But she will not move while I watch her. Finally, when my eyes grow too heavy to remain open any longer, and I drift into an uneasy sleep . . . SHE STRIKES! I have the scars to prove it, but the nurses claim they are self-inflicted.

I have thought of setting Sally on fire. Or throwing her out the window. But the nurses won’t give me matches, no matter how politely I ask; and there are bars on my window.

There are bars on all the windows here. On the bright side, though, tomorrow is Pancake Thursday.

Well, I’m getting sleepy now; and I know that I will soon drift off. Perhaps Sally will kill me tonight. Or perhaps the devil will come for her, and drag her back to hell.

Either way — I probably won’t get any pancakes tomorrow.

MEMOIRS FROM GREYSTONE ASYLUM, 2016.

P.S. — Sometimes the nurses allow me Internet privileges; and while I was in the library today, I came across a very creepy story. Hence the creepy Stephen King quote. You can read that story here.

#Vintage #Photography: Do You Wanna Jump? Or Do You Wanna Grab Some Ice Cream? Whatevs.

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Me: Good question. But you know, I’m really not sure. I think I’m gonna jump . . . that is, unless they’ve got Butter Brickle. Do you think they’ve got Butter Brickle?

You: How the hell should I know?

Me: Well, I dunno, I just thought that since you asked . . .

You: For Pete’s sake, if you’re gonna be so annoying about it, just freakin’ jump.

Me: Well, I dunno about it now. I really want some Butter Brickle . . .

You: Holy mackerel. You are as annoying as sardines on a peanut butter and jelly. I’m outta here.

Me: Are you still getting ice cream?

You: Yeah, I guess.

Me: Okay, then. Let’s take my car.

You: Sure. I’m low on gas, anyway.

Me: (with a thoughtful expression) Hold on a minute — I’ve just gotta take the rag outta the muffler.

#DONTJUMP

(Unless you really want to.)

#Vintage #Photography: Madhouse.

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“I am a prisoner in this house, which seems full of mad people. More I know not; and nothing do I understand.” — From “The Sire de Malétroit’s Door” by Robert Louis Stevenson.

 

Is that man looking at me?

Why is he smiling?

Perhaps he wants to cut off my head.

 

Can you see him, too?

Maybe he isn’t real.

Maybe I should cut off my own head.

 

MEMOIRS FROM GREYSTONE ASYLUM, REAL OR IMAGINED.

 

(More vintage memoirs to come. All photos obtained from New Old Stock.)

#Vintage #Photography: Mission Command.

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Me: Houston, we have a problem.

Houston: What is it?

Me: I’m not sure. I’m just feeling very existential and nostalgic today.

Houston: Listen, K-26. You know that this is a mission command center, right? We’re not here for existential breakdowns.

Me: What about the nostalgia? You didn’t refer to the nostalgia.

Houston: We don’t handle that, either, K-26.

Me: You know — that might be part of our problem right there. I have a name, you know. I didn’t come out of the womb, with people slapping my bottom and calling me K-26.

*A shuffling sound of paperwork as mission command looks at my file.*

Houston: Well, it says here that your name is Brünhilda. *A pause.* Do you want me to call you Brünhilda?

Me: *Grimace.* Hell, no. I hate that name.

Houston: Then why did you ask me to call you by it?

Me: I didn’t ask you to. I just told you that I had a name.

Houston: Well, of course you have a — *long groan* — isn’t there anyone else on board that you could be talking to about your existential breakdown?

Me: Sure. But I didn’t want to bother them.

Houston: So you called to bother us?

Me: Well, I guess I never thought of it that way. But hey, so long as I’ve got you guys on the line — I can never remember what this red button on the control panel does. It doesn’t say anything.

Houston: Don’t press that!

Me: Why not?

Houston: Can I trust you with the truth, K-26?

Me: Sure.

Houston: With a single push of that button, every single person on earth will be transformed into a total asshole.

Me: Why’d they make a button that does that?

Houston: In case we’re ever invaded by aliens. The government figured that complete assholes would make better soldiers.

Me: I guess that makes sense. *Pause.* Can I ask you one more question?

Houston: What is it now?

Me: Do you know if anyone’s ever pressed this button before?

Houston: How the hell should I know?

Me: Well, I was only wondering, because — well, you’re kind of an asshole.

*Long silence. I think Houston’s hung up on me.*