Articles By Rosa Lyster
I spent a long time reading and thinking about you and all the other “social x-rays” without really getting the picture.
I have been laughing at the thought of Donald Trump calling you Low Energy Jeb for like three and a bit years now, and I do not foresee a future in which I will be able to stop.
I thought the word “snorkel” to myself, over and over, and undertook a very limited exploration of every opinion I’d ever had on the subject.
Like all Australian celebrities, you began your ascent to the Everest of stardom from the base camp known as Neighbours.
Like many of John Le Carré’s women, she has a creepy energy that I can only describe as “sex-mother.”
Many of the women in his books seem unable to decide whether they want to sleep with every man they see or be their actual biological mother.
Here Comes Mr. Clearsighted Humanitarian
You painted lonely people all the time, and that’s what I remember thinking when I walked into the gallery: This is a person who knows what loneliness looks like.
Poor eels going nuts because of all the cocaine the former bankers at the Lehman Brothers Collapse Anniversary Cocktail Party are still able to afford.
You must admit though that “girls who go through a very intense Rasputin phase” are absolutely a type.