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Lemony Snicket - Blog Posts
she lemony on my snicket until there is an unfortunate event
Cough so bad I sound like I’m about to tell three orphans their parents perished in a terrible fire
Our RA's planned an activity where we make Vision boards. I was trying to show everything I'm currently about.
Oscar Awards and VHS' because I'm a film major.
Ankh-Morpork post office and Reaper Man quote because of my never ending obsession with Pratchett.
VFD quote and a match because of my resurgent interest in Series of Unfortunate Events.
And other things that represent my background and interests!
I’ve always related to Lemony Snicket, but I feel like I’m stuck between the passages of The Beatrice Letters all over again
Stop calling me out like this
If you read Lemony Snicket as a kid
Chances are your an upbeat nihilistic bastard now
Imagine Olaf screaming "PARKLIFE" every time Lemony finished a sentence
I’m sorry I did not mean to disrespect a member of the VFD (Various Fallen Defenders) I was just saying that he was a simp, never stated that Beatrice was mediocre. Anyways hope that you have a great day.
Y’all always talking about simps, and how they don’t do much, but like… Lemony made a whole series about some womens kids because he simped so hard for her
Y’all always talking about simps, and how they don’t do much, but like... Lemony made a whole series about some womens kids because he simped so hard for her
"you're so pretty", okay so write something for me like lemony snicket.
ma meilleure ennemie is so lemony and ellington coded
A Series of Unfortunate Events Meme
[½ dedications] – The Austere Academy
I was just casually rereading Coraline and I noticed THIS 🤩
now they ARE connected, you can't convince me otherwise 😌
He even read it out loud *^*
not my usual content or anything but here's an asoue headcanon:
Lemony's middle is Dante. Let me explain.
So everyone knows that scene in Vile Village where they talk about Dante, right? Like the guy who wrote Dante's Inferno? My headcanon is that Dante is Lemony's middle name.
Along with this I raise these full names for the snickets:
Katherine "Kit" Sappho Snicket
Jacques Whitman Snicket
Lemony Dante Snicket
————————————————————————
My headcanon is that all three snickets' middle names are named after poets.
Kit's middle name is after Sappho, a well known poet from Archaic Greece, and probably the first well known female poet.
Jacques's middle name is after Walt Whitman. Walt is well known for his poems "Song of Myself" and "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed".
Lemony's middle name– you already know after Dante and Dante's Inferno.
I just feel like their middle names are after famous poets.
But you guys know the drill by now: that's just my two cents!
Jacques: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?
Beatrice: >:O language
Kit: Yeah watch your fucking language
Esmé: OKAY WHO TAUGHT KIT THE FUCK WORD?
Olaf: 'The fuck word'.
Lemony: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time
Kit: Oh my god they censored it
Olaf: Say fuck, Lemony.
Kit: Do it, Lemony. Say fuck.
Reading ASOUE as a child, I didn't end up with a Violet Baudelaire complex (tying my hair up every time I have to think), or a Klaus Baudelaire complex (reading a shit ton of books about everything), but a rarer third thing I like to call a Lemony Snicket complex (I am very very sad, I write, I love desperately, and I still hope for the best)
Lemony Snicket was canonically a cheerleader and I haven't seen a single person talk about it. The possibilities are delightful- Lemony saying cheesy rhymes in a deadpan voice?? Lemony in a cheerleader outfit in general?? Lemony getting tossed around by others more qualified to be a cheerleader?? Lemony who joined cheerleading simply because Beatrice was in soccer?
I swear it's always "I love you so much!" but never
"I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world's cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to divide fractions, and no matter how difficult is it to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decide to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform.
I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you next Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if abandon your baticeering and I will love you if you retire from the theatre to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer.
I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.
I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm wale loves the flavor of naval uniforms.
I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of their parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safe keeping.
I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanism. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery, and as a crow loves murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a falling shingle off a house.
I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp, and as a blimp loves to chase after it.
I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person's back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home.
I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as a noise of a glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping out into the world.
I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest policeman. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes that S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of V. I will love you until the bird hates the nest and the worm hates the apple, and until the apple hates the tree and the tree hates the nest, although honestly, I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try.
I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and that long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you as the chances of us running into each other slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by a distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don't see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me, happens to you as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else—your co-star perhaps, or Y., or even Q. or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I think it will be quite some time before two woman can be allowed to marry—and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned.
That Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way. Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope."
It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know.
It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
Lemony Snicket, Horseradish
@igetnobitcheswhatsoever thought this was "she lemon on my snicker until there is no unfortunate event". Everybody laugh at her.
I’m losing my mind
This describes every relationship I’ve ever had
I’m losing my mind
“Sometimes words are not enough.”🕸🍁
Olaf, Bertrand, Poison Darts
Before Olaf ever officially met Bertrand, he had heard stories about him. Bertrand’s chaperone thought he was an amazing, model apprentice. But that chaperone also ranked last out of all 52 VFD chaperones. Who coincidentally was also Olaf’s nemesis Snicket’s chaperone, and that was where things got interesting.
Someone who Lemony Snicket was unfavorably compared to? Olaf hadn’t even met this guy, but he decided that he’s going to like him.
When they finally met for the first time, Olaf discovered that Bertrand was quite unlike the usual VFD theater teens he encountered. Bertrand wasn’t much a literature guy, nor was he invested in poetry or theater. He didn’t quote classics in everyday life (not even wrongly or sarcastically or anything) like the rest of them. (Perhaps that was how he got assigned to lowest ranking chaperone, Olaf thought.)
Despite his differences with the theater teens of VFD, they all turned out to like Bertrand a lot. He was pleasant and easygoing and because of his interests were different from them, they didn’t feel the need to compete with him. But the best thing was, he was great at building sets and props – everything the theater people needed on stage – and every fancy, overly dramatic equipment they probably didn’t need off-stage but he was nice enough to make for them anyway. (One day, the working wings of a dragonfly costume might turn out surprisingly useful for an actress, but that was another story.)
And Olaf liked him too, just like all of them. Bertrand was the only person who wouldn’t tear his Al Funcoot plays apart, and as much as it was fun bickering with Beatrice or R about the literary references in his plays, it was great to have someone who he could spend time with that didn’t care about all those and would be glad to help make the props for the play. (Although he did have to fight the other theater majors for his time – as if Beatrice’s bat-styled hot air balloon or Esme’s martini glass dress was more important than his demands.)
And perhaps that was why Bertrand’s part in his parents’ murder came as the most surprising of them all. After being friends – if he could call them that – with Beatrice for so many years since their childhood, he’d known, grudgingly that she was capable of a lot of things. Mostly in the name of drama, but sometimes for things more sinister too. He’d seen her darker sides that sometimes he wondered if Snicket realized. And Kit – she followed VFD’s orders in a way nobody else could, she planned coldblooded schemes in the name of necessary evil better than anyone else. (It probably said something about their relationship that he wasn’t that surprised when his girlfriend played a part in his parents’ murder.) But Olaf never expected it from Bertrand.
Bertrand, who got along with everyone, who was always helpful, who didn’t argue much but not in a Jerome kind of way.
He’d long known ago he shouldn’t trust actors, but perhaps the biggest lesson was to not trust the polite and practical engineers either.
In retrospect, maybe he should have known. After all, Bertrand was the one with the craftiest hands out of them all. And if he could make theater props for them, who knew what else he was able to make?
A handy little device for aiming poison darts, as it turned out.
So my mom and I picked back up watching A Series of Unfortunate Events on Netflix the other day, and for the most part, I really do like it and I agree it’s a highly faithful adaptation of the books (though admittedly it’s been a while since I read them, but from what I recall, the series is doing quite well).
But one thing did bother me: their Lemony Snicket is not at all like I pictured him. No hate to Kronk; Kronk is doing a great job being the Lemony Snicket that he is. But like I said, he’s just not at all how I saw the character as I was reading him.
For one thing, given that his name is “Lemon-y”, I pictured him as blonde, perhaps strikingly so. For another thing, I just got the sense that book Lemony was a touch more shy and awkward, and I pictured him as a rather wiry kind of guy--not completely scrawny, thin but tough. That is to say, less strong-shouldered than Kronk. And recently, after a bit of thought, I realized that the Lemony I was picturing as I read looked more or less like a young Tom Petty.
I could just see Tom, fedora nestled on his soft blonde hair, hanging about libraries looking for clues regarding missing sugar bowls and odd, question-mark shaped creatures, penning lengthy coded love letters to a woman who regrettably cannot marry him, and watching grimly from the shadows as a number of dismaying tragedies befall that woman’s orphaned children. He has the perfect lemon-y hair, a suitably wiry frame, and just the right amount of quirky awkwardness in his smile, I believe.
(To clarify, I don’t think Tom’s deep, Southern speaking voice would necessarily suit Lemony, just his physical appearance, so this is just for the sake of visualization.)
And so, I present to you, young Tom Petty as Lemony Snicket. Well, really just a series of photos where he looks how I would picture Lemony as looking; I haven’t edited them or anything, just arranged them.
Anyways, young Tom Petty is just generally adorable and full of subtle swag. It’s always fun to look at pictures of him.
Image sources below the cut.
picture sources, in order: 1http://www.theuncool.com/tag/tom-petty-the-heartbreakers/ 2 https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/544724517406734973/ 3 https://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/tom-petty-1950-2017/2/ 4 https://www.biography.com/people/tom-petty-201299 5 https://www.listal.com/tom-petty-%26-the-heartbreakers 6 https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0965382/mediaviewer/rm3324321792 7 https://www.elmodulor.com/el-modulor-ep08-tom-petty-nacio-en-florida-pero-le-dio-sonido-a-california/
“I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture.... I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back.” ~Lemony Snicket
I was just rereading the Beatrice Letters and I must say, taken out of context especially, some of Mr. Snicket’s love poetry is really dark and intense.
Also, as a southerner,
“I will love you as kudzu loves trees”
is similarly ominous.
eleven year olds need book series filled to the brim with violence and crime. it's like enrichment for them