For a guy who's worked as long as Taylor Kitsch—that'd be two decades—you'll find relatively few interviews with him on the internet. Up until a few months ago, he didn't even have someone handling press for him. "We're fighting for Playgirl," Kitsch, forty-one, jokes when I ask what we should expect from his new publicist. "Right now, it's between me and twenty other guys." Instead, he has chugged along in the Hollywood game by flat out refusing to play it. But he's got some big projects coming—The Terminal List on Amazon, out now; Painkiller on Netflix, later—so here we are in the restaurant of Casa del Mar hotel in Santa Monica looking at pictures of wolves, which make up what feels like a sizable portion of his iPhone photo library.
For a guy who's worked as long as Taylor Kitsch—that'd be two decades—you'll find relatively few interviews with him on the internet. Up until a few months ago, he didn't even have someone handling press for him. "We're fighting for Playgirl," Kitsch, forty-one, jokes when I ask what we should expect from his new publicist. "Right now, it's between me and twenty other guys." Instead, he has chugged along in the Hollywood game by flat out refusing to play it. But he's got some big projects coming—The Terminal List on Amazon, out now; Painkiller on Netflix, later—so here we are in the restaurant of Casa del Mar hotel in Santa Monica looking at pictures of wolves, which make up what feels like a sizable portion of his iPhone photo library. |
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Lululemon's Surge shorts will change your workout routine—and your whole summer wardrobe. |
| Your rubber sport band needs the evening off. |
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As a teenager in the late 90s and early 2000s, my older sister Sarah struggled with drugs. During this time, I noticed a book in my sister's stuff—a black cover with only a glimpse of a girl's face, as if she were photographed in a dimly lit dungeon, and the words Go Ask Alice text-wrapping around her eye. I somehow ascertained the premise of the book: the diary of a young girl grappling with drugs. I'd seen enough "very special episodes" to be cynical and dismissive of these types of stories, but something about Go Ask Alice's adjacency to my sister, whose problems were all too real, gave it the hue and heft of legitimacy. With Go Ask Alice, I hoped that Sarah could learn Alice's secrets, and Alice could learn hers. But what if Alice's secrets weren't secrets at all? What if they were lies? |
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Thankfully, Thor's newest adventure requires relatively little MCU know-how. |
| It was nothing but red flags and enfeebled gun laws around this guy. |
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The nuns lied. In October 1962, those of us in the third grade at St. Peter's School in Worcester, Massachusetts, noticed that we were being herded into the basement of the old school building every day. The basement was concrete, and it smelled of age and wet linoleum. It was also chilly, and yet with all of us milling around, the walls started to sweat anyway. It was a cold October that year. Along about the fourth or fifth day of this, somebody asked the nuns what was going on. Eventually, we all came to the opinion that it had something to do with the ominous events we heard about with half an ear at home as our parents watched the evening news. But the nuns lied to us. They told us these were only fire drills. |
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