#(many people becomes victims tours depression)

[the-enchanted-mistakes]

Heya, Misc, how do you feel?

Not just now in the moment right now, but in general? Do you feel at peace and are satisfied with your life right now, or is there some sort of dread haunting you deep inside? Do you think you can rest comfortably without worry?

[dukeofdelirium]

Imagine working your whole life to be remembered as the greatest artist of all time and you’re forced to be remembered as the most infamous pedophile of all time. That’s a damn shame.

It’s fucked up what they did to Michael, but we can still advocate for his innocence even though he’s gone, now. Truth and Justice shouldn’t die when you die. That’s why it’s important that we still fight for him. If we don’t, no one will.

Michael dedicated his life to helping children and saved millions of lives through his humanitarian efforts. Over 500 million donated in his name, and that was just publicly. He did more anonymously. His nephew said he easily doubled that number. MJ didn’t draw attention to his charity work. He felt it was wrong to do so, and a lot of the stuff he did for others didn’t become known until he died.

He was an amazing artist, yes. The greatest to ever live. But under that, he was an amazing human being. He was a good man who truly cared for other people. He was not like other celebrities who just say they love their fans and shit to keep up an image. Michael truly did love his fans, genuinely.

He hung out with his fans. He kept in communication with his fans and knew many of them by name. His security guards even commented on how shocked they were when they’d be out somewhere and MJ would point at fans and tell them their names and when he’d met them, etc.

He would bring food and blankets and pillows to his fans that camped outside his hotels and shows. He even let fans come up to his hotel rooms and sleep in there. He also let fans come to his house and hang out at his house. He ran Neverland Ranch for a loss of over 3 million each year. There were regular, almost daily trips from make a wish or other programs that helped sick or dying children who wanted to spend the day with MJ or at his ranch as a last wish. He had bus loads of underprivileged kids brought to the ranch too so they could experience a zoo or amusement park because these children were too poor to do so otherwise.

He would walk around on the street and just give people hundreds of dollars in cash. He would also have his ppl drive him around and donate to the homeless very regularly. And he always made a point to especially help the homeless women.

Every city and country he visited, he would go to orphanages, hospitals, nursing homes etc. He would pay for everyone’s treatment and would continue to pay for their treatment for years afterward. He would also buy tons of presents for the kids at these orphanages and hospitals. All the money he made from tours, he also donated. While on tour, actually, he decided to build a burn ward for burn victims bc he himself was one.

For his last tour, what would’ve been This Is It, all he talked about was building a children’s hospital…. There are audio recordings of it that his murderer recorded very soon before he killed Michael. In these recordings, MJ is heavily drugged, but even while being drugged against his will, he was still talking about what he could do for others.

“When people leave this show, when people leave my show, I want them to say ‘I’ve never seen nothing like this in my life! Go! Go! I’ve never seen nothing like this. Go! He’s the greatest entertainer in the world!’ I’m taking that money, a million children… children’s hospital. The biggest in the world. Michael Jackson’s children’s hospital. Gonna have a movie theater, game room. Children are depressed. The- in those hospitals. No movie theater, no game room. They’re sick because they’re depressed. Their mind is depressing them. I want to give them that. I care about them, them angels. God wants me to do it. God wants me to do it.”

He continues with “That will be remembered more than my performances. My performances will be up there helping my children and always be my dream. I love them. I love them because I didn’t have a childhood. I had no childhood, I feel their pain.” And “I feel their hurt, I can deal with it. ‘Heal the World.’ ‘We Are the World.’ ‘Will You Be There.’ ‘The Lost Children.’ These are the songs I’ve written because I hurt, you know, I hurt.”

It breaks my heart what they did to this man. He was the closest thing we’ll ever get to an Angel. And they killed him.

[celebrities-fanbases]

Billie Eilish

With an unexpected bloom of fame at the young age of thirteen, Billie Eilish has spent all of her teen years in the spotlight. Setting new records with her musical talent, Eilish has managed to grow to become one of the largest pop stars of the decade. Her rise to fame alongside her brother, Finneas, began from a video of her singing a lyrical piece Finneas had written. The song “Ocean Eyes” not only sparked Eilish’s career, but also became one of her most popular songs to this day. Billie Eilish became a name everyone knew and loved by 2017 as her song spread rapidly through the platform TikTok (formerly known as Musical.ly). As she released new music, including her first album Don’t Smile at Me, she gained more and more popularity. Although she has officially grown a solid fanbase, many fans began to develop unhealthy relationships which violated the very few boundaries Eilish had established.

Eilish has always been known to be close with her fans and to enjoy developing personal relationships with as many people as she can, but things took a turn as she became objectified and treated as a robot. Alongside disrespectful fans also came obsessive harassers who truly pushed Eilish’s boundaries. Struggling to adjust with people constantly watching her and calling for her attention, she became exhausted and ultimately depressed. Eilish starred in a documentary about her life as a young teen on tour called Billie Eilish: The World’s a Little Blurry, which revealed how Eilish struggled with mental health. Her depression peaked due to the lack of freedom and personal space she had. As she toured for her debut album, WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? the film revealed how the dark, gloomy lyrics to most of her songs came to be. A song I found to be truly emotional is “listen before i go.” In the film, she’s seen writing the lyrics as a way to express her suicidal thoughts. Her mom. Maggie, concerningly asks, “Are you seriously implying that you’d jump off the roof?” to which Eilish nods [00:29:45]. Her mental state declined from the lack of connection she began to feel with music due to all the pressure around her. With the empathy and compassion of her mom and brother, Eilish did not jump from the building as she desired. The situation was a prime example of how celebrities are still people with feelings and struggles, which can easily be damaged by people consistently pushing someone around instead of showing them respect and consideration. Another part from the film which needs to be addressed is how Eilish was taken advantage of due to her being a young girl. Not only did she have to deal with obsessive fans and paparazzi, but also her 22 year old ex-boyfriend who dated her as a 16 year old. Eilish was a victim of grooming and was publically exploited to such a large audience. In the documentary, she’s seen being repeatedly ignored and manipulated by her ex, leaving her in a constant state of disappointment and confusion. She later addressed her ex’s abuse in a song titled “Your Power,” in which she exposes his disgusting decision to groom a teenage girl. The lyrics mention, “She was sleeping in your clothes, but now she’s got to get to class. How dare you?”, implying that he should be ashamed of the fact that he dated a girl young enough to be in school as a full grown adult. Eilish’s vulnerabilities were reclaimed as strength as she got older and released the album Happier Than Ever. The World’s a Little Blurry shows Eilish at her worst, allowing us to see how much she’s grown and overcome struggles as she creates new albums.

I absolutely recommend giving the film a watch as it shows the vulnerability of celebrities trying to navigate their newfound fame, especially as someone who is still a child. 

Eilish has always expressed her feelings through song. One of her newest songs from the album Hit Me Hard and Soft called “The Diner” expresses the perspective of someone who tried to break into her home. Numerous crazed fans have trespassed on Eilish’s property and harassed her outside of her home. Although she was granted restraining orders for many situations, the unsafe conditions Eilish was put in is not fair to anyone, as privacy should always be respected. Eilish has persevered through many obsessive fan experiences while navigating her life as a teenager, but she has learned to take more control of her life and safety as an adult. 

[raconteur-multiverse]

Twisted Wonderland 🇯🇵 summaries of Episode 06 Ignihyde Second Main Story Chapter 39-44 (1/2) still stuck on Idia's final game retro.

•Idia shrugs seeing MC, Epel, and Rook found out his secret headquarters under the ocean. Island of Woe. Meaning of "Woe" is "things that cause sorrow or distress; troubles". More like unnamed island for people is been victim by anxiety and depression because of Blot. •Rook and Epel now understand why Idia is become leader of S.T.Y.X. Still isn't happy at all how his minions sabotage their school just kidnapped the dorm leaders, Jamil, and Grim. •Idia told them all of them is safe and sound, Rook was joyful...— Also he and Epel carry some cosmetic for Vil if Idia allowed them to meet him. It is important make sure Vil's beauty never change for his own life. Idia face surprise like "WTF? Are we in promotion make up beauty or something? Just for that?" •Sadly Idia and Ortho isn't allowed Rook gave it to Vil, they think Cosmetic is almost similar with life drug threaten. Even Epel said Vil will look scary without his make up. •MC did said to Idia that MC want Grim back along others. Idia little jerk mock MC there's no way take them all, hearing MC said that like begging just like poor victim wanted to be free. "There are. An annoying person who runs with emotions in a heroic manner, even though he has no ability." Idia said to MC. •To make sure Idia can continue his work, he order Ortho guide tour around this Island of Woe, make sure not any single of them lose from his sight. •Epel is impressed see Idia riding magic vehicle mode, Ortho said that's “Chariot”. Most of the inhabitants of the Island of Lamentation are not in the old town under the ground where they are now, but in Ortho and Idia live in the living quarters of the outer wall "Oceanus" that covers this island. Although various linear rails and elevators are fully equipped,Traveling in a flying vehicle is the most efficient. •Ortho explain about this Island of Woe. "The human body is significantly affected by natural light both physically and mentally.Therefore, the environment on the island is kept in the same condition as on the ground by various latest technologies. The artificial sky is reproduced inside the outer wall, and there are changes in the weather and four seasons. Forests and rivers." Rook see all building Island of Woe remind him of "Country of Heroes". •"A long time ago, the island of mourning was part of 'The Land of Heroes'." So this island of Woe was suppose be part of country of Heroes, sadly is been abounded long ago. That pillar inside of Island of Woe is connected from the entrance of the island of mourning where they came in, "Oceanus Hall". •MC isn't interested with this tour, MC wanted to meet Grim so badly. Ortho did whisper to himself "There are many ghosts buried under that pillar.Now it's iced and everyone is sleeping...It is better not to approach carelessly because of interest.If you don't want to be like me." •Rook is really worried about Vil, for Rook, Vil is everything for him. Most important on his life. Didn't want to see Vil sad nor feel lonely whenever didn't pay attention to Vil. Ortho seems catchy on Rook's word "I did what I could do". Thats Rook's word aesthetic. Seems sound like, no matter how many trials we must face or deal something difficult for us, as long the person we care about is happy and safe. •After Ortho keep them busy with new games and return his way to Idia, Ortho keep those aesthetic words from Rook. Ortho remind me of song Vocaloid by Kagamine Rin, “Kokoro/Heart”. This is something Ortho new feeling about "caring" so deeply. Ortho seems wanted be helpful to his brother, Idia. •Idia was busy on examination condition of Grim, Idia feels like Grim is a demon beast from result he testing Grim in battle virtual test to check his ability and energy inside of him after ate Blot Gems. Most unbelievable is Grim has ability magic like human do. Ortho and Idia see Grim murmur call MC's name in his sleeping from CCTV. •Ortho thinking Grim is Idia's relative curse embodied. Solve this mystery Overblot almost took 1000 years primative."At present, I don't know if the blot resistance given to

Grim is a 'curse' or a 'blessing' The only difference is whether the surgeon's emotions are positive or negative.", said Idia comment it. •Shroud family's curse has inherited from generation to generation is to incinerate the blot from the accumulated. It's a "blessing" that some people don't have to run away for the rest of their lives,From the perspective of their ancestors, it is a "curse" that has been applied to prevent rebellion. The reason why the Shroud family was ordered to be the "keeper of the island of mourning" for generations...The first head of the family took the Titans called "Primitive Phantom" and It was because he rebelled against the Jupiter family. •"The prison 'Tartaros' to contain the phantom as a punishment,I was forced to manage the phantom graveyard 'Underworld'." Idia said to Ortho. So far that Shroud family and others have a trial rank by following planet constellation. "But both my grandmother and dad assisted with magic with magical devices. Moreover, it is a downer type with transcendent negative thinking.At that stage, you usually know that the "curse" is the worst.. Is it too bad for me as a child?" Idia though himself. Idia will do anything for Ortho's life too, without Idia, Ortho life won't be safe.

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

My Top Ten Overlooked Movies With Female Leads In No Particular Order

Note: When you see this emoji (⚠️) I will be talking about things people may find triggering, which are spoilery more often then not. I mention things that I think may count as triggers so that people with them will be aware before going in to watch any of these.

Edited: 3/16/21

Hanna (2011)

So, before I get into why you should watch this movie, I just want to take a moment to say why it's near and dear to my heart. Growing up as a queer kid in the early 2000s, seeing portrayals of people like or similar to myself on anything was rare at best. It was mostly in more "adult" movies or shows that my parents would occasionally let me watch with them that I'd see any lgbtq+ rep at all. Often times they were either walking stereotypes, designed to be buried, evil, or all three.

Then here comes this PG-13 action thriller with a wonderfully written main female lead who, at the time, was close to my age, and who got to kiss another girl (her very first friend, Sophie) on screen in an extremely tender and heartwarming scene. To say the least, it was a life changing moment for me personally.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, Hanna is a suspenseful movie about a child super-soldier named, you guessed it, Hanna (played by Saoirse Ronan) and her adoptive (?) father Erik Heller (played by Eric Bana) exiting the snowy and isolated wilderness of their home and taking on the shadowy CIA operative, Marissa Wiegler (played by Cate Blanchette) who wants Erik dead and Hanna for herself for mysterious reasons.

It also has an amazing soundtrack by the Chemical Brothers, great action scenes, and it has an over arching fairytale motif, which I'm always a sucker for.

⚠️ Mild blood effects, some painful looking strikes, various character deaths, and child endangerment all feature in this film. However, given its PG-13 rating, a majority of viewers are presumably able to handle this one. Still, be aware of these going in.

Sidenote: It's recently gotten a TV adaptation on Amazon TV, although I have not watched it, and do not know if Hanna and Sophie's romantic/semi-romantic relationship has transferred over.

A Simple Favor

A Simple Favor is a "black-comedy mystery thriller" centered entirely around the relationship between two mothers, the reclusive, rich, mysterious, and regal Emily (played by Blake Lively), and the local recently widowed but plucky mommy blogger, Stephanie (played by Anna Kendrick). When Emily suddenly goes missing, Stephanie takes it upon herself to find out what happened to her new best friend.

It's a fantastic and entertaining movie throughout, with fun, flawed and interesting characters. The relationship between the two female leads is also implied to be at least somewhat romantic in nature, and they even share a kiss.

⚠️ The only major warnings I can think of is that the movie contains an instance of incest and one of the main plotlines revolves around child abuse, although both of these potentially triggering topics are not connected to each other, so there is thankfully no csa going on.

Edit: I legitimately forgot there was drug use in this movie until now. So, yeah, if that's a trigger, be careful of that.

I Am Mother

I became mildly obsessed with this movie when it came out. I Am Mother is a sci-fi film that centers entirely around a cast of two woman, and a female-adjacent robot who is brought to life on screen with absolutely amazing practical effects.

The plot is such, after an extinction-level event, a lone robot known only as Mother tasks herself with replenishing the human race via artifical means. She begins with the film's main protagonist, Daughter. Years go by as Mother raises her human child and the two prepare for Daughter's first sibling (a brother) to be born. However, on Daughter's 16th birthday, the arrival of an outsider known only as Woman shakes Daughter's entire world view. She begins to question Mother's very nature, as well as what's really going on outside the bunker she and her caretaker call home.

⚠️ This movie features child endangerment and reference to child death.

Lilo and Stitch

When I decided to add a single Disney film to this list I initially thought it was going to be hard but almost immediately my brain went to Lilo and Stitch, and specifically about the relationship between Lilo and Nani.

On the surface, this film is about a lonely little girl accidentally adopting a fugitive alien creature as a "dog," but underneath that the story is also about two orphaned sisters and the older sister's attempts to not let social services tear them apart by stepping up as the younger sister's primary guardian. Despite its seemingly goofy premise, Lilo and Stitch has a very emotional and thoughtful center. It's little wonder how this movie managed to spawn an entire franchise.

Despite the franchise it spawned (or possibly because of it), I often find that Lilo and Stitch is overlooked and many people only remember it for the "little girl adopts an alien as a pet" portion of its plot, and I very rarely see it on people's top 10 Disney lists.

⚠️ This movie could be potentially triggering to people who were separated from their siblings or other family members due to social service intervention. There's also a bit of child endangerment, including a scene where Lilo and Stitch both almost drown.

Nausicaä and the Valley of the Wind

Unlike the above entry, I did struggle a little bit with picking a single Studio Ghibli film. Most media of the Ghibli catalogue have strong, well-written, unique, and interesting female leads so selecting just one seemed like quite the task.

However, I eventually settled on this particular film. In recent months, Princess Nausicaä has become my absolute favorite Ghibli protagonist and I'm absolutely enchanted by the world she lives in.

Set in a post-apocalyptic world overun by giant insects and under threat of a toxic forest and its poisoness spores, Nausicaä must try to protect the Valley of the Wind from invaders as she also tries to understand the science behind the toxic forest and attempts to bridge the gap between the insects and the humans.

For those who have never seen the film, I think Nausicaä's personality can best be described as being similar to OT Luke Skywalker. Both are caring, compassionate, and gentle souls who are able to see the best in nearly anyone or anything. She's an absolutely enthralling protagonist and after rewatching the film again for the first time in well over a decade she has easily become one of my all time favorite protagonists.

Whenever I see people talk about Ghibli films, they rarely mention this one, and when they do mention it, it's often in passing. In my opinion it's a must watch.

⚠️ This movie contains some blood, and the folks who either don't like insects or who have entomophobia may not appreciate the giant bugs running about throughout the movie. (Although most insects do not directly relate to real life bugs, and are fantasy creatures).

A Silent Voice

A Silent Voice is an animated movie adaptation of a manga of the same name. While I've never had the pleasure to read the manga, the movie is phenomenal. It covers topics such a bullying, living in the world with a disability, the desire for atonement, social anxiety, and depression in a well thought out manner that ties itself together through the progression of the relationship between its two leads, Shoya and Shouko. It's also beautifully animated. Although very popular among anime viewers, I've noticed that it's often overlooked by people who watch little to no anime. So I suppose this is me urging non-anime viewers to give this film a chance.

⚠️ As mentioned above, the movie deals with bullying, anxiety, and depression (with this last one including suicidal thoughts and behaviour). If discussion of those topics are triggering to you, than you may want to proceed with caution or skip this movie all together.

In This Corner of The World

Another manga adaptation, this one taking place during WWII-era Japan. In This Corner of The World follows the life of a civilian Japanese woman, Suzu Urano, as she navigates simply living and her new marriage as the wartime invades nearly all aspects of everyday life. I think this movie is a good representation of what it must be like to be living as civilian in a country at war where the fight is sometimes fought on one's own soil. It was also an interesting look into pre-50s Japanese culture in my opinion. It's also beautifully animated featuring an art style I don't see often.

Despite it being well known among anime fans, I never really see it be brought up, even among said anime fans themselves.

Side note: I've seen many WWII dramas centering around civilians but they've almost always been about American or UK civilians. This was the first movie I'd seen that features the perspective of a Japanese civilain.

⚠️ Features the death of a child and limb loss. There's also a disturbing scene featuring a victim of one of the atomic bombs near the end.

Wolf Children: Ame and Yuki

This film follows Hana, a Japan-native woman who fell in love with a magical shape-shifting wolf-man, and her trials with raising their children, who can also magically shape-shift into wolves, on her own. It's a very heartfelt movie about a mother's love and the struggles of doing right by your children when you have limited resources to actively guide and care for them. All the characters feel unique and alive in my opinion. Also, the animation is so good that my sister and I initially mistook it for a Ghibli film.

Again, like the previous two anime entries, I don't see it ever brought up outside of anime circles.

⚠️ There's some child endangerment present in the film, although none of it is the fault of Hana as far as I can remember.

Roman Holiday

Roman Holiday is about the fictional Princess Ann (played by Audrey Hepburn), who while on a whirlwind tour of Europe, finally reaches her breaking point over having her entire life be one big schedule and all her words and actions being rehearsed. In the spur of the moment, she runs away in hopes of experiencing what life is like for other women. Unfortunately, she was previously given a sedative, meaning she doesn't get too far before it takes effect. Fortunately, she is found by the kind reporter Joe Bradley (played by Gregory Peck). Believing her to be drunk and unable to get an address from her (because she has none) he ends up taking her home for safety's sake and allows her to sleep off her suppose drunken stupor. The next day, he realizes who she is, and decides to take her on a fun sight seeing trip across Rome in hopes of getting the big scoop. Along the way, they begin to fall for each other.

This is my favorite black and white, old romance film. I think the relationship between the main characters is absolutely beautiful and I have a lot of fun watching it.

⚠️ I'm not entirely sure what kind of warning this film would need. However, it was released in 1953, so values dissonance will probably be at play for many viewers to at least some extent. For example, early in the film Ann is given sedation drugs by her doctor for her behavior, something that is very unlikely to happen today. Also, Mr Bradley deciding to take Ann home to keep her safe rather than call the police or an ambulance is a very pre-90s decision in my opinion.

[archivedatl]

Old Blogs

Howdy. I’ve noticed some concern over the loss of my old blogs here n’ there so I decided to post all of them in one large, comprehensive blog-a-verse. Hope this brings a smile to a few faces. Our Street Corners Keep Secrets This is me asking for a brick to be thrown through my window,
a message attached that reads, "Why can’t you just wake up?"
I am not a star,
don’t look up to me in hopes of finding something more.
That which is out of reach does not promise anyone a goddamn thing.
Hope arises in possibility,
but possiblity is fragmented and selfish,
so don’t think for a second that I am safe ground to walk on.
I will sink beneath the feet of a thousand travelling companions,
and make ruin of any city’s foundations,
because concrete and steel can never tell a soul how it feels.
Our street corners keep secrets, and our road signs only suggest,
never deciding for us,
never knowing if the destination to which they lead,
is where we truely belong.
Life’s greatest tragedy is not that it will some day end,
but that most of us just live to follow directions,
and many times we end up totally lost. I am a landmine. Sometimes I break down so hard you can hear it, and when I can stand to come near it with means to repair, the chances of walking out unscathed are slim to none.
I know because I’m one; a victim of second-hand breakdowns and bad impressions, made under intoxicated conditions with poorly lit expressions. And I regret not going back, I regret not missing flights, I regret not asking for more and taking chances that I can only hope will not be forgotten. My fingers are crossed.

I-O-U.

Now my telephone’s dead and I can’t stand to hold out like this, but I’m constantly checking myself so as not to be a burden. Anything too heavy eventually gets dropped, no matter the cost. Let me be light as a feather, but valued enough so as to remain in a back pocket, until those jeans need washing and I find my place on a bedside table, to be read aloud on nights when memories and prying needs return to haunt the foundations of this room.

Pick me up,
Read me every now and then,
I won’t disappoint.
*I am* witty and engaging so bless me with attention, because I’m *dying* for attention *without* any means of telling *you*. I’ll talk the talk, you take care of the rest. What up thugs?

I’m alive and well, realizing how eternally grateful I am for everything going on in my life day by day... Its a lot like learning to walk - at least, that’s how I’d like to think of it. We’ve all been there, so I won’t waste your time painting a pretty picture of how it all goes down...
I want to talk about other things...
First and foremost, I’ve come to understand that as of late there have been a lot of people finding this little piece of my life tucked away on the web; moreso than usual, and for that reason, I’d like to extend my proverbial hand to anyone and everyone who may have something - anything to say to me. Thank you for taking an interest in who I am and what I’m attempting to do with my life. I am opening myself up, as much as possible, to anyone who may be interested. All I ask is that whoever you may be, wherever you may be, understand that I am only human - two hands, ten fingers, and a life... I’ve received a few messages from people, upset that I haven’t been able to respond to their previous comments or private messages, and who now probably think less of me for it. I hope this isn’t the case, but its bound to happen. What I’m saying is that I don’t live my life on the internet... I’m sorry if there’s a message I never got around to responding to... I’m just not that good at keeping up with reality, let alone a virtual one. I will, however, try harder from now on... And understand that even if I don’t respond, I probably have read your message. I don’t just clear my inbox and move on. Thats plain rude. :)

To all my good friends,
the ones I should talk to more often,
the ones I left back home,
the ones I will never stop loving,
thank you for still hugging me when I come home...
I know I don’t always show it,
but I’m forever indebted to you all for everything you’ve ever done for me...

That brings me to my second point.
The closest friends you’ll ever have are the ones you’d take a bullet for,
but they’re the ones you constantly feel you could put a bullet in as well. ;)

Think about that one.

That’s it for now. I can’t believe I’m up at 5:14am. Touring has made me an insomniac, but I feel fucking great.

Have a good one y’all,

Me Lawyers and Liars I am a liar.
I am self absorbed.
I am in this for me.
I am seeking recognition.
I am not concerned with politics.
I am attempting to rise to the top.
I am never going to forget my intentions.
I am allowed to worry about my own life above the lives of others.

-------AFTER ALL---------

I am human. Part Deux: Colors, Sounds and Feather-Downs 
Current mood: happy I had a long, goofy conversation several weeks ago with an interesting girl who I haven’t seen since, in a diner I have yet to revisit, but it stirred up some thoughts that I found pretty interesting. Maybe I’m just nuts. Anyhow, the discussion began on a simple basis; I inquired as to what her favorite color might be. She said she didn’t know. I replied, "How can you not know? Its a simple question." -- She paused, looking sort of surprised, as if someone had never pressed her for an answer before, and then replied, "Well... It changes... Today its yellow."

I didn’t know what to say...
I didn’t understand.

How can your favorite color just change?
What happened to yesterday’s favorite color?
If, on a whim, something of such esteem and value can be replaced with another, then on what grounds was it ever of any more value to begin with?
When I was little, my favorite color was green. It stayed that way, no matter what I said to be trendy at the time (IE. 8th grade was my "black is such a raw and expressive pigment" phase, but everyone goes through that shit.) As of late, I’ve become more partial to blue - Light blue in particular, but that’s not that important. My point is that something happened that caused me to send green packing, and to fall absolutely head-over-heels for blue.
(Stay with me on this...)
Now, such a dramatic change in attraction doesn’t just happen - I mean shit, I know we’re only talking about colors here, but this kind of switch-a-roo has only happened ONCE in my entire life. Green ---> Blue. Just like that. Must mean somthing, right?
Pablo Picasso went through a "blue period", at which time he was broke and mourning the loss of a dear friend. There’s a similarity there somewhere.
Please don’t get me wrong, I am by no means depressed, nor do I have any reason to be, but perhaps color - every, individual hue, represents to each of us a state of being, and in turn, helps us to deal with whatever it is we may be going through. I’m not talking mood-ring shit here. What I mean is that there are things - simple things - that without our knowing, mean the world to us and when they change, they change for our own good, because whether we like it or not, we are looking out for ourselves. We do it unconsciously - But we do it. We do it to stay happy and to stay alive... And above all else, that’s what matters.
On this note, I’d like to attempt to make my point - Don’t throw yourself out on another’s whim. People change, as do intentions and as a result, consequences. Live for yourself - love those around you, but realize that they’ve got their own agendas. People will screw you - You will screw people... Green ---> Blue. Get it? I’m not sure I do... Always consider that your life will venture in new directions, but be aware that other’s will do the same, and in accordance, understand that to be happy, people must exist in their own light, cast in and of themselves, not by the light of their peers. Conflict will arise because of this. Conflict is to be expected; conflict is a part of life. Find ways to work through conflict, even if it means picking a new favorite color...


I hope this makes a little sense.


I’m tired and rambling, and perhaps just a misguided fool, but I think there’s something in this - something that I am learning and accepting as my fingers punch these keys to an inviting, hypnotic rhythm. I feel like they’re leading me somewhere, and I’ve decided to follow.

____I’m going to bed. Take from this what you will.

Love,

Alexander William Gaskarth

*I feel fine* The first of many, I hope. 
Current mood: happy So I’ve decided to spill it; the beans, the juice, my guts... Whatever you want to call it, consider it spilled. Up to this point, I feel like I’ve done an excellent job of keeping just about everything true about myself, to myself... and for good reason - what people don’t know, people can’t use against you. I guess that’s my first confession. I fucking despise the way people operate. The way people go out of their way to find things out, only to throw them senselessly (BLINDLY) into conversation later. I don’t know if its intentional, (I guess that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t,) but frankly, it gets to me. Its the same kind of prying aggravation I feel when someone starts moving shit around in my car, or on my computer table. Stop putting hills in my rugs! Please. Call me OCD but if I put something somewhere, chances are, I wanted it there and it should remain that way. Its the same for anyone else. Let one’s own business remain that way. Anyway. I’ve fallen into a depression lately - not emotionally per say, but I feel like my ability to open up to people has peaked over the past two years. I used to be so ready to say anything, without caring how it affected me, but recently I’ve become so protective of myself, not because I’m afraid of getting hurt by others, but because I might make myself look bad. It’s disgusting. I never used to be so self-absorbed. Its like in every situation, I’m wearing a mask... Not just one mask, in fact, but many masks; Masks to hide masks between people - to hide certain sides of myself from those who disapprove where others don’t. I try so hard to win the approval of everyone. Why? Fucked if I know. I just love being the center of attention I guess. And all this time I thought myself to be humble. No sir. But then, who really is humble? Everyone wants to be loved, right? So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being? Who knows? It makes me sick to my stomach, regardless. I’ve unknowingly stumbled across so many insecurities lately that I feel like a different person at times. It’s like I’ve been born all over again, to a world where I have to carry myself differently. I’m still opinionated, I’m still eagerly in search of answers, but my motives have changed. I do it for myself now; for the praise and admiration I earn as a result of my actions, not for the simple pleasure found in just "doing it". Maybe its all just part of growing up, as they say. Maturing... You know? But does it continue to change? Will I stop acting like such an asshole? Who knows. It worries me. I don’t want to be like this, but its who I’ve become... What’s worse is that I don’t know who or what to blame for the transformation. That would be too easy, right? I digress. I’ve got a lot of things on my plate. My dreams are coming true right before my very eyes - I have a band - We’re going somewhere - This time next year I hope I’m far, far away from this place. I want to see Japan. I’ve wanted to see Japan for a while now; call it a calling. Haha. I don’t know what I want when I get there - I don’t even like the hustle of big cities for too long. Gives me a headache. But there’s something about it. I’ll see it soon enough. The repetition of every day life kills. It ruins the flow of my creative juices. No joke. On days that I sleep in, I go to bed feeling exhausted, and yet, I never sleep on the weekends, when I should want rest. I don’t. It would be a waste of freedom. Why spend time on parole in seclusion, you know? I’m only tired on weekdays - only when I know I have to drag myself out of my fucking room to take a shower and go to school, and then to work. Maybe I’m not tired. Maybe it’s just a natural defense against running myself into the ground with routine. I feel pale, and sick, and run down... For no reason. I eat right. I see the light of day. I breathe fresh air all the time. I love the outdoors. Shit. I love my life. But between Monday and Thursday I feel so transient... My head isn’t in the clouds - My feet aren’t on the ground. Where am I? I don’t know, but frankly, it sucks. I have some good friends. We get hammered sometimes and forget about everything. The occasional dramatic scene is worth it. People naturally don’t get along with one another. It’s all a matter of how tolerant people are. I have some tolerant friends. In turn, I think I put up with my share of bullshit. It’s like a cycle of tough loving. But it works. It keeps me sane. In the end I think we really do love each other. Awww. I also like to kiss people. It gets me into trouble sometimes. Whatever. Certain individuals need to stop looking for love in the wrong places. --I can’t talk. --I’ve found love in the worst places. --Its not an easy thing to deal with. --Doesn’t change the way I feel about them. --Its ok. --As long as I’m happy. There I go being selfish again. ___I’m done confessing for now. Take from this what you will. Love, Alexander William Gaskarth *I feel better.*

[lovely-tothe-bone]

Six Months Between: A Rant-ish Ramble

I've seen a lot of commentary dragging Katniss for her supposed treatment of Peeta during the six months between the end of the Games and the start of the Victory tour. Yet her PTSD, depression, anxiety, and passive suicidality (she acknowledges on the opening page that she is tempting danger as she wouldn't be able to outrun wild dogs if they showed) are not acknowledged. Katniss is desperately trying to retain her previous life routine in order to maintain her sanity.

People say "Poor Peeta had to watch Katniss traipsing off to the woods every Sunday with Gale." But what I see is "Katniss only gets to see her best friend one morning a week now." When it used to be many mornings and afternoons. Even the time they do spend together is not the same, there is no ease and she's saying this six months later!

Katniss was robbed of her childhood and has missed out on vital years of forming her identity. She makes it clear in the last chapters of THG that she doesn't know who she is without surviving day to day. She can't even imagine what her life will look like post Games because that is all she's ever done. No one gets to be mad at a trauma victim for their coping mechanism that doesn't actually harm another person. Katniss isn't doing anything wrong by clinging to her former life and what she is actually doing during these six months is spending hours upon hours alone. She is mourning and grieving and trying to make sense of what happened to her with the Games, with Peeta, and not lose the one person who has been her constant for four years. She has been dreading this day for months. She is sitting in her childhood home up until the last possible second she has to greet everyone. So overemphasizing that Peeta would see her traipsing off to the woods with Gale when it's just one morning a week is a gross misrepresentation of what transpires.

It is not Katniss's fault that Peeta got dealt a crap deal in life with a family who abandons him and it's certainly not her responsibility to fill that hole. It was her responsibility to reach out, check on him, and be his friend. She should have done that. They were both at fault for not trying to be there for one another. But what can you really say, they are sixteen. Kids! Of course they are so messed up from everything that they don't know how to handle it right.

She may not be as alone in the physical sense, yes she has some comfort from her family trying to be there for her but the reality is this new life post Games is just as alien for her as it is for Peeta. She doesn't know how to connect or fit in to it and not because her socioeconomic status has changed, it's what she had done to her. Katniss has had an experience that transforms your life in to two distinct lives, almost as if she has been two entirely different people. This is what SC is trying to get us to understand about veterans (and it ties in to why Katniss can't figure out her emotions and actions in the Games re: Peeta). You can not reconcile one with the other and just get on with life. Expecting them to do so is preposterous. They become paralyzed by the dichotomy of what they had to endure and returning to everyday life. This is what Peeta means by it costs everything you are to be in the Arena. They had to give up who they were and become someone else. How would you be able to recognize yourself after that? How can you say you would not do the same thing Katniss does and cling to what you've always known out of fear?

[the-daily-sandstone]

Life as I know it

Well, I come from a small college town in the Midwest of the USA. Home of many great thinkers and doers, to say the least. My first steps into life were brutal, my father lost our housing, and my mother was the only one working for as long as I recalled.

We drifted while I was an infant, for the first year of my life. We toured with the Grateful Dead, sometimes I have dreams about Garcia. The Tour of ’89, across the states. Years after the experiences I had all kinds of dreams, once life was less chaotic. Mother knows some of them really happened.

In ’91 my brother entered the picture, and sometime after we had an A-frame in the woods. I remember the woods always felt so magical, I was never afraid of them. I felt I belonged to them. Father seemed to always nap while mother worked, and he did not feed us until she came home. I would eat worms or sneak butter to try to keep my brother and I from going hungry.

Earth worms aren’t that bad, never chewed them, always swallowed them whole. Last time I had one I think I was 9 or so years old. Father used to abuse us, as I learned later, in more than just physical ways. It was often going from extreme emotions to the other, and I can’t recall every memory. The ones I do know aren’t the best to reminisce on. Though I have a few from then I treasure. Like the time I fell so hard in love with the neighbor girl, I told my cousin I was going to marry her when I was a full hand (5 years old).

She was beautiful, I used to play her music on my guitar, or run off around the neighborhood with her. One time we snuck into a horse field to try to talk to the horses. When we realized they did not speak with us, we were stuck, I felt foolish, but it did not matter, I was holding her hand.

My brother had a worse time with things. He was younger and had terrible luck with the woods. One time I was thinking we were warriors and needed to battle wasps. So, I talked him into fighting them with me. We threw rocks at a nest, he got stung a few times. Suppose it was stupid, but I was having fun for the time.

 That’s how things went. I grew up wanting more of nature, and my brother wanting less of it. My girlfriend moved away and so did we. After the A-frame we lived in her basement on a sub-lease, and then off to apartments. First thing I tried doing was walking around naked like I used to in the woods. Had to learn the rules the hard way.

Used to get in trouble in school, and well, felt like no one was teaching me the rules. I was just expected to know them or something. Heck, first grade was spent in in school detention, without a teacher, doing all assignments for the year on my own. That year was awful.

Therapy did little to help. I was too young to know what was wrong with me anyways. I felt I was evil, and all I needed to do was accept what came my way.

It wasn’t until third grade I was diagnosed ADHD, but the meds just gave me tunnel vision and I don’t feel they helped me focus. Sometimes I would hear a crowd talking when no one was. Other times I would think people were talking about me when passing them by.

By the sixth grade I was moved up a grade in math and learned Boolean algebra. Taught myself Qbasic and started programming music apps, little trivia games and some basic text adventures. I remember one time I wanted to make my own operating system mockup. Back then, there weren’t tutorials. Google barely had relevant results, and YouTube wasn’t around, or heard of for me. Around the same time, I taught myself HTML with a manual from a friend. And then went and taught children at the Middle Way shelter.

By high school I started smoking weed, quit my medication, and was playing and composing for violin. I taught myself to read and write sheet music from a Beatle’s Anthology piano book. Middle school did not teach me that, everyone said they had private lessons for it. Took me about half a year before I stopped writing the names of the notes above the manuscript.

I graduated with a crap diploma, some blue core crap the Bush administration made up for no child left behind. Yeah, I had a few honors and advanced placement courses, but I never read the books in English, and never showed my work in math.

After high school I went off to work in Denali, Alaska. Washed buses, climbed mountains, and lost myself to some ladies. One I somehow managed to become friends with and stay in contact all these years.

I was 19, and well, I still managed to eat mushrooms, smoke weed, and drink wild turkey that summer. In fact, one night I was with a lady, reading the epic of Gilgamesh, on mushrooms. That was the night I decided I wanted to be a writer. I read one more work from sacred texts, the Romance of Antar. I wrote my first work of fiction as an adult under the pen name, Leon Sandcastle, with the tile, Epic of Aphromann. My friend was really captivated by the writing, as she put it. I wrote it on a free writing app trial, Zoho Writer. The files are lost officially, I’ve since tried contacting admin about getting the copy, but I couldn’t remember the email (plus the email is gone now) or the password. The printout I had I threw away when I moved back into my mother’s. I just felt then it was terrible because well, one reason. I had written the work and dedicated it to my brother, but he felt it wasn’t him in the story. I felt I had done my brother wrong.

College was a mixed bag. I really did not know for certain what I wanted to be. I had no job offers on any of my hobbies, and my only work experience was mostly manual/menial labor, what with fast food, construction, Denali, and some landscaping. I chose to pursue them all. Liberal arts, science, math, English, and more science.

I was working on contract for the Department of Natural Resources, on some youth program from the governor. Work, study. Over and Over.

I had to save up for a replacement violin. After I returned from Denali, my brother became extremely sick, he burned my violin and my mother had him committed. It was awful to feel and see him go through. His diagnosis changed so many times. His story got better.

Friend found a local luthier from the university program, when I played it, I felt I was amidst the ferns and pines and all the wonders of nature. He had named it Khimaera (not sure on spelling). I bought it on contract with a monthly rate based on my term with the DNR. By the end of the summer, I owned the violin.

I met a woman that year, showed her my family’s farm up north. Went to a talk at the university with her. The last time we were together, she took my hand, held it to her heart, and asked me to marry her. And I told her no.

There was a lot on my plate sophomore year, as to why I told her no. I had began having visions in my sleep, or so it felt. I would dream and see my dream in the headlines of the morning news. I’ve since googled some of them to realize it could not have been true. However, I dreamt my grand uncle Brokenfeather would die of cancer and the Mississippi river would flood. I dreamt my friend from Alaska lost her father after his voice went horse. I dreamt I met a woman in the desert and changed her life.

I still morn the passing of my grand uncle. And days after I emailed my friend about the dream, she sent me word he had cancer and his voice was horse.

The woman I met in the desert was a meth addict who for some reason believed I was Jesus Christ, and we were married. I told her some things, and last, I know of her, she called me to thank her. That I had in fact changed her life. She got off the streets and got clean.

I used to write Obama, and the MI-6, I even wrote Stephen Hawkings about some things that were later televised in his words.

I would be sitting there, seeing people talking and hearing their words, and if I followed up on the conversations, people would ask what I was talking about, that they weren’t speaking.

I was homeless from 2010-2013. Officially receiving permanent housing out in California, in 2013.

I moved back to my mothers after a long drawn out claim for disability was awarded. I now own two violins, classical guitar, electric guitar, wooden Cherokee flute, a ukulele, midi keyboard. Took on some more hobbies along the way. On contract to compose full orchestrations for a client making a video game.

My success? While I was homeless I did not pursue drugs or alcohol, it felt almost more a prolonged camping venture, fraught with me becoming a victim to theft at the end. If there’s one thing I can say, is that California is the worse place on earth.

 Naturally I’ve not included every single event. But this should give you the gist. My official diagnosis is Schizoeffective Depressive. No I’m not two people, that’s a different type, (schizotypal).

Thank you for your time.

 Leon Sandstone

The Daily Sandstone

[shiftyskip]

Walter Scott “Smokey” Gordon

The Real Smokey Gordon:

(His twin sister Cleta is standing next to him)

Walter Scott Gordon Jr. was born April 15, 1920 in Jackson, Mississippi to Cleta and Walter Gordon. He had a twin sister, named Cleta. His parents had married later in life, in the 30s, which was unusual for their time. His father, Walter Sr. was called either BeeBoy or Bee. Cleta Sr. had not gotten her name until she was three years old and had another sibling. BeeBoy was a spec builder and a real estate developer. His mother was a fiery teacher in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. She was once fired for getting caught not sitting side saddle “like a lady”. When news about her firing got to the students and parents, they threatened to fire the school board. Cleta was given her job back and inspired so many students that several named their kids after her. BeeBoy and Cleta were very popular in Jackson, Mississippi. This changed during the Great Depression, where they lost nearly everything.

His parents were not prepared to be parents, more or less parents of twins. After the birth of Smokey and his twin, Beeboy would sometimes drive up to his house after working, hear the twins crying from his car, reverse his car, and come back when his children had stopped and were asleep.

Smokey was bright, quick, and could remember details of almost anything he’d read. He even studied Latin. But for all his knowledge and skill, Smokey did poorly in school. He was smart, but he was witty and liked to joke around which didn’t go over very well with his teachers. They did not like his attitude in class.

Smokey’s family was not religious, but Smokey took it upon himself to become Episcopalian, a lay leader, and an altar boy. He memorized the Bible and could recite it from memory, This changed when Cleta Jr. died from breast cancer when she was in her early 30s, causing Smokey to lose all his faith. After that, Smokey would say, “Any god that could take away the most beautiful creation to walk this earth, I want nothing to do with.” But even after this, Smokey enjoyed religious discussions and could still quote the Bible down to the chapter and verse, saying that “Don’t you know the Bible is the greatest book ever written?”

Smokey graduated from Central High School and attended Millsaps College for many semesters. This didn’t work out for him in the end, since he focused on other things. Finally, he decided to enlist in the military.

The first time did not go as planned and Smokey was denied because he was colorblind and had flat feet. Dejected, he turned to BeeBoy for guidance. BeeBoy told him that the Army tried to distance you from your home, so your homesickness wouldn’t cause you to run the first chance you got. BeeBoy told him that if he enlisted up north, they’d send him down south and vice versa. With this in mind, Smokey hopped a train to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to try again.

Still colorblind, Smokey memorized the men reading the letters in front of him and passed. He heard about the paratroopers and decided to enlist, liking the idea of the extra pay. He didn’t exactly think that he was getting more pay because he was jumping out of an airplane and into enemy fire.

Smokey was not originally a Toccoa boy. He started his training at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina and got transferred to Camp Toccoa, Georgia. BeeBoy was right with that perspective at least.  Smokey was in the 3rd Platoon of Easy Company.

Smokey got his nickname during the war. He had a chewing tobacco habit and it earned him the nickname, he also liked to smoke pipes and cigars. He would never drink, stating that anything he drank he would drink it with voracity so he stayed away from alcohol. He preferred water. And he drank a lot of water. I’m not kidding, he drank more than the average man. He drank so much water he would try and find ways to get other’s water during training. He started carrying candy bars around to get an extra few sips of water. He’d carry around Hershey’s Bars to exchange for water (don’t ask me why all of the Easy Company boys like Hershey’s, I really cannot explain it.)  Smokey was also sort of a smart ass. One day, he gave his last cigarette to Tab, then said the payment was a dime for a match to light it. 

In England, Lipton and Smokey would prefer to go tour museums and art galleries than go out drinking. They’d go together or sometimes even alone. Smokey did not give up his mischievous personality and one day, he took a trip to Bath, England with another guy. They went on a museum tour and when lunchtime came, the museum closed briefly, but Gordon and the other man hid inside until it was safe. Then they stripped and swam and played around in the Ancient Roman baths. Before the museum opened, they got dressed and rejoined the tour.

Winters, in his memoir, writes that Smokey and his friend Paul Rogers, enjoyed passing their time by picking a victim to dedicate a poem to. Their victim had received company punishment and therefore needed a poem about them told in front of the company when they were assembled. The victim would be throughly embarrassed and angry. If the victim of their teasing blew up on them, they got more joy out of their teasing. The more embarrassed their victim became, the happier Smokey and his friend were. Their easy target was Floyd Talbert. Tab, one Christmas Eve, had a bit of a temper tantrum when his silverware was removed and stormed out. Smokey met him afterwards, telling Tab he had skipped possibly his last Christmas dinner on Earth. 

Smokey jumped into Normandy on D-Day. He landed on a farm, near an apple tree,with half his machine gun.The first person Smokey saw in Normandy was John Eubanks. Eubanks was supposed to be carrying the tripod for machine guns, but when he didn’t see a purpose for carrying it without a gun or a gunner around him, he got rid of it. Smokey found a way around it, and set his gun on low stone walls to fire it. 

Guth joined them shortly afterwards as they wandered around Normandy. At one point, a voice called out the code word “FLASH”. Before anyone could do anything, Eubanks called out “Lightning!” WRONG CODE WORD, the right one is thunder. They ducked, knowing what happened when they said the wrong code word, and a grenade was thrown at them by the other man, who promptly ran away. The men found Talbert a short time later. Together they joined a group of 502nd men that took out a bunker, near a bar in Ravenoville, with Smokey’s orders.

Smokey was injured in Normandy in his calf, by a piece of shrapnel that went in his leg and out the other. When he was evacuated to England, he had a long cast up his leg. It ran from his hip to his toe. In this hospital period, Smokey met with groups of military upper brass as they went through. These groups spoke with the wounded men and gave them Purple Hearts if they qualified. This award was supposed to stay pinned to their pillows, but every time a group was gone, Smokey would take his off and put it under his pillow. He slowly collected a small amount of these by the end of the 8 weeks he was there.

Tab was also injured near Carentan. This was the night of Stab-A-Tab, where Talbert was stabbed by another Easy man by mistake. Smokey, with his tradition of making poems out of people’s misery, made one for Tab. The Night of The Bayonet was Smokey’s tribute to Tab when they returned to Aldbourne, England. He also gave Talbert one of his Purple Hearts as well. According to Smokey, whenever the night was brought back up, Tab claimed he could’ve shot the kid six times, but didn’t think they could spare to lose a man.

Smokey was also promoted to the NCO ranks during their time at Aldbourne. He would eventually end the war as a corporal. It’s also said that Lipton and Smokey went to tour Scotland after recovering. 

Surviving all of Holland, we end his military chapter in Bastogne. I can’t tell you what he did in Holland, but I will let you know if I can find anything. (I do feel super bad about this but I can’t find anything right now.) 

In Bastogne, Winters remembered walking past Gordon one day, as Gordon sat at the edge of his foxhole, staring out at the forest, without recognizing him at first, and then thinking, “Damn! Gordon’s matured! He’s a man!”

Smokey was shot on Christmas Eve morning. His partner was newer, and had no experience with foxholes. Their foxhole was not deep enough for the tall 6′1″ paratrooper, and Smokey was shot in the shoulder as he was drinking coffee. The hot drink poured into his lap as his body slid down. The bullet entered his left shoulder, traveled through him, and left through his right shoulder. It touched his spinal cord and he was paralyzed from the neck down. 

He was dragged out of his foxhole by his close friend Paul Rogers and Jim Alley. They took him into the woods to see Doc Roe. There Doc attended to him with morphine and plasma. Lipton ran over to see how he could help Smokey. He was leaning over Smokey, trying to get a response out of the wounded man. Another man pointed out that Lipton was actually standing on Smokey’s hand and that Smokey could not feel it. He had lost his sensations in most of his body. This is when they realized just how serious Smokey was hurt. 

Smokey was evacuated to an aid station, to England, to a hospital in Wales, He was put into a cast that left his head to his waist covered, only his face was left exposed. This caused a problem due to the fact his wounds from the bullet couldn’t be treated. They drilled holes into his head to install Crutchfield Tongs, to stop any movement. He was forced immobile, laying on his back, for six weeks. 

One day, a doctor looked at Smokey and told someone to watch out for Smokey because he was goldbricking. Goldbricking is an excuse to escape a task, Smokey was so mad that he yelled at the doctor, “Damn it! If I could get out of this bed and I’d show you what goldbricking is.” The doctor left, successful with his attempt to rile up Smokey to keep his fight going. Smokey would keep in touch with this doctor, even after the war, for the remainder of his life. 

Smokey gained control of his pinky finger during his time of recovery He was labeled walking wounded a short bit later. But he was still not free from the hospital. He was shipped off to Atlanta, where he’d stay in a hospital until the war was over in 1945. He was able to go home by that time, but continued to remain in the Army. In his letters home, he was never able to give an answer to that question of when he’d return. 

Even though he was now well enough to go home, they were going to send him to Fort Benning for restricted or limited duty. BeeBoy, who Smokey called to tell the news, started yelling and threatening the Army that he’d take Walter to the US Senate, strip Smokey, and let them determine if he was going to be sent home or not. I’m not sure if that message to the driving force with the doctor, but Smokey was soon discharged with 90% disability. 

The rest of his life, he suffered with chronic back pain and shoulder pain. His back would hurt if it was touched, even if it was a pat on the back. He took an Army aptitude test to see what his career should be, and got bulldozer operator. But Smokey didn’t like this idea and decided to put his strength more in knowledge than what the Army had expressed. 

Under the GI Bill, Smokey went back to school. He attended Cumberland  Law School in Tennessee. 6 months into this school, he returned to Mississippi, took the state bar exam and passed. He went back to school to officially achieve his degree, but he was already a licensed attorney. Even before graduating. 

But he never practiced law. He became an oil broker instead. He had no car but was given work fairly early after the war. He wrote to Henry Ford II and the letter got him a car from the local dealership and he paid without having to wait for a new car. And instantly he got a way to work. 

In 1950, while on a vacation, Smokey met his future wife. Her name was Betty Ball Ludeau from Louisiana. Smokey asked her to reintroduce herself several times, causing a bit of embarrassment on her part. But it’s Smokey, that’s almost expected. He swore it was love at first sight and he knew he was gonna marry her. 

During their relationship, he worked in Hammond, Louisiana with oil and would drive to go see Betty. The pair had little in common, he didn’t like dancing or saloons like she did. He pursued her with a passion, and she refused him, She rejected several marriage proposals from Smokey, but Smokey continued to ask. She rejected him many times till one night he learned the answer. She blurted out that she couldn’t marry him because she didn’t know how to cook. Smokey told her he “wasn’t marrying her to be his cook”, he “was marrying her to be his bride”. Throughout their marriage, he would call her “his bride”. She finally said yes. 

They were married June 14, 1951. Smokey said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen to anyone who would listen when Betty entered a room. He claimed she was the most entertaining woman he’d ever met. Smokey dearly loved Betty. Everyday he’d tell her, “...have I told you how much I love you today? And tell me. what can I do to make you happy?” 

Smokey didn’t have many hobbies due to how much he worked. He had no problem requiring the same amount of effort out of his kids, all five of them. There was Elizabeth “Bebe”, Linda, Eunice Gay, and Cleta, his daughters. He had one son, Walter S. Gordon III. He often ran by military tactics, and not parenting tools such as Dr. Spock. His kids chores were based on the military scale, he would inspect their completed chores and give them more if they weren’t done correctly. They didn’t want to be doing nothing around Smokey, for he’d given a good work ethnic and doing nothing around Smokey was nearly a crime. They also appeared to have hired a Nanny to help with all 5 kids, they called her MowMow. Often times, the only control the house had was when Smokey was in charge. When family arguments arose, it was all to blame the kids, even if they didn’t do anything (specifically for the cases where they escaped punishment when they thoroughly deserved the punishment). 

 He’d sometimes take his 5 kids out of school during the week to join him on a trip. They’d all travel on his business trip with him, missing school, and heading to New Orleans, Louisiana.  Like everything else, their vacation was scheduled like military tactics. They had scheduled meeting times and places, where they’d to his hotel. He’d send them off to an arcade with 5 dollars and would continue with his business trip. At dinner, they’d go to a fancy restaurant. They were all around the age of 5-11, which to Smokey was old enough to be able to function properly, even though they weren’t adults. 

Even though he loved working, Smokey was a family man as well. Whenever invited out for drinks with co-workers, he’d chose to go home to his wife and kids instead. He loved his kids and his family a lot, focusing his time on them instead of other places when he was home from travels. 

Smokey loved his kids about as much as he loved money, Often times, using money to bribe his kids to come home and visit. He’d send them a check that wasn’t signed, bribing them with signing it when they next returned home to see him. Or he ripped a $100 in half, send half of it with a letter that stated they’d get the rest when they came to visit, and they’d come back, curious about his latest antic. 

Smokey continued to love jokes. He loved practical jokes, sometimes planning them out for months. He once sent a letter to a reporter he saw dining at a diner he regularly was at, she left without paying for 2 cups of tea. He then adopted a pseudonym, wrote a letter where he portrayed the owner of the diner asking her to pay the diner back for the tea. One time, the lieutenant governor of Mississippi, a friend from law school, sent a  joking letter to Smokey that read: “...I have been informed that you were wounded in the head in the last war. As a public official of the great state of Mississippi, I want to take this opportunity to say I am indeed sorry they didn’t kill you.”

Smokey is seen as the link between Ambrose and Easy Company. Ambrose lived about 15 minutes away from each other in Mississippi (not neighbors as the story is told). In 1988, Ambrose’s assistant heard about the group of veterans attending a reunion in New Orleans. They met with the assistant and were interviewed, and soon they connected the assistant to Smokey who lived nearby. They had set up an interview with Ambrose and Smokey, Lipton, Guth, and Winters. Smokey and Ambrose became close friends and their friendship lasted for a long time. 

Smokey returned to Mississippi towards the end of his life, he was away from his bride, but they made weekly visits to each other. He spent much of his time with Tracy, his daughter and her kids. They talked daily, until one day where he didn’t call, two days after his birthday. Tracy’s nanny tried to call, and couldn’t get an answer, so she traveled with the grandkids to Smokey’s house. He was an early riser, and would have gotten his paper and started his day by then. She arrived to see he still hadn’t grabbed his paper. There, Miss Lilian, the nanny, and his 5 year old grandson found him in his bedroom and he was rushed to the hospital. 

Smokey had suffered a stroke in the night. At first, it was believed he would recover, but a few hours later, while in the hospital, he had another massive stroke. He passed away 3 days later on April 19, 1997. Smokey was cremated and remained with his son, until his wife passed away in 2009, when he was buried with her. 

His funeral was exactly how his life was, happy and full of jokes. Stories of his pranks and humor were shared along with a bunch of smiles.  Gordon’s life should be remembered the way he was, with a few stories that make you smile and a heart full of love and humor

[zer0comma]

why out of the blue by julian casablancas is one of the best songs ever written

okay so first of all, happy brthday to phrazes for the young. i can’t believe it’s been 10 years already!!! phrazes for the young is a great and very underappreciated record and i like how the album managed to gather some sort of a cult following during these years. and even tho julian doesn't seem too proud of it, i’m happy that he made it and i don’t think he fully regrets making it either. after all it helped him figure out what he actually wants to do, and it does feel like beginning of of the voidz since the songs are made of a lot of layers like voidz songs especially on tyranny!

now let's talk about the song! i always love talking about this song because i rarely see fans mention it. whenever you ask julian’s fans abt their favorite songs from phrazes, most of them are going to mention river of breaklights or glass or maybe left and right in the dark and it’s understandable because these songs are truly great. but out of the blue is equally great. the song has everything i like about julian's songs: simple yet very beautiful and touching melodies, clever and cynical lyrics with clever twists that tell a story, his deep voice and a catchy and uplifting chorus.

let's start with the beginning. one of my favorite parts in this song is the carnivalesque and fun yet somehow creepy (??) intro. it's one of the best intros ive ever heard honestly and sometimes i can't finish listening to the song because i keep replaying that part!! (you can hear it here). when julian starts singing, his voice sounds very deep and i LOVE it. i really love how he keeps repeating the same lyrics to give the listener an idea on how his feelings of frustration keep evolving and it also paints a great image which is something he's really great at. 

the chorus is one of the catchiest choruses julian has ever written which is probably one of the reasons why he doesn't like this song... but it really showcases his songwriting abilities.it's super interesting how the same man who wrote one of the greatest rock albums of the 2000s can also write such catchy and pop sounding songs with ease!!

this part after the “take all your dreams” part is also very interesting. can you hear how he keeps adding layer after layer? you can also hear this in tyranny, and i really like it because it adds depth to the song and makes it much more interesting and fun to listen to since you can hear a new layer everytime you listen to this song! (here)

this outro right here is what sold the song for me initially. this is what julian does best: writing beautiful melodies. this part makes me so emotional. its sweet and kind of nostalgic with a tinge of hope and i love how different it is from the intro. its really cool how the song progresses!! (here)

now let's talk about the lyrics. overall phrazes is one of his best albums lyrically. it's really poetic and clever and it has some of julian's best lyrics and most of them are personal which is something i really appreciate and this song is no exception. this song is one of the few songs in which julian talks about his experience with  media and fame. he's telling us how frustrated and angry he was and basically making fun of the "cool" image the media painted of him and the strokes back in the day. his feelings of anger and pain can be the result of many things. his relationship with the media and music critics but also his bandmates. the song was written during the fioe tour. it was a hard time for the band. there was a lot of tension and they eventually went on a hiatus and it was basically a big mess :/ (and things got even worse afterwards, thank god they’re doing better now). i also think it has something to do with his alcoholism. the line "and the ones that i made pay were never the ones who deserved it" is probably about how aggressive he was while drunk and how he took out his anger on his friends and bandmates even tho they weren't the reason behind his sadness and frustration. which actually leads us to the chorus!!

“how can you be/so perfect for me/why can’t you ignore/the things i did before”

it's almost like he can't believe he finally found someone who loves him and who's willing to support and help him become better: his wife. however, he’s still afraid that she might remember him as the aggressive and troubled alcoholic he was and not let his past die. he’s also making fun of the media. in here for example, when he says: “yes i know i’m going to hell in a leather jacket” (which is such a cool line), the strokes were associated with leather jackets. hell there’s even an interview in which the interviewer writes a super long paragraph talking about albert’s and fab’s jackets. the media created this image for them and only cared about that image, even more than the music at one time. also the line “at least i’ll be in another world while you’re pissing on my casket” is one of my absolute favorite lines in this song. it’s really ironic how the same people who overhyped them even before their 1st album came out, and created this entire image and scenario and world for them to exist in, are now criticizing them because they didn’t live up to that hype. these lyrics are just so witty and i love that! also i think it's worth mentioning that 9 years later, julian would say the same things in lazy boy. the lyric "jackets are the eyes to the soul" is taken from the same article i was talking about earlier (he also talks about his past self in that song). 

“all that I can do now is sing a song of faded glory/ and all you got to do is sit there, look great, and make them horny/ together we’ll sing songs and tell exaggerated stories/ about the way we feel today, and tonight and in the morning”. these lyrics are also very obvious. they are about how music journalists were trying to paint them in a specific image to fit their story and expectations, and then would attack them when they don't realize these unrealistic and stupid expectations. another fantastic part of the song.

 he ends the song with trying to accept that he can't do whatever he wants to do and just pretend that this is the way it is fo everyone even if it pains him to not bring his plans to life. this was something he talked about before :(

“and take all your fears/ and pretend there all true/ and take all your plans/ and pretend they fell through/ and that's what it's like for most people in this world” this is how he ends the song. it's sounds like no matter how much he's trying to accept it, he still sounds very crushed and disappointed. this part makes me really sad :/ (thankfully he now has a band in which he can whatever he wants).   and also the last line "before they come knocking on my door now"... it's really depressing how the media and music industry are so cruel to those who refuse to play by their rules and bend to their will and so many artists were victims of that, sadly. and what i really love about this part is how its sung over the beautiful and hopeful outro. julian is really really good at writing cheerful and uplifting songs with depressing and pessimistic lyrics. even the chorus has a tinge of regret and fear in it. (also i want to point out how a very depressing and sad song like human sadness has more hope in it than this song like...his mind honestly).

anyway i’m really bad at writing conclusions so yeah i love every part of this song. i love how contradictory the melodies and the lyrics are. it really has almost everything i love about julian's music and i really hope people would give it more attention because it's one of the greatest songs ive ever heard.

[lizzybeth1986]

I've been thinking about this statement of TRR writers that so many of them would date/marry Hana, and how it isn't reflected in the way the story is written, and then it finally hit me, that it's probably true but in the most depressing way. Because it's probs not about the fact that they love Hana-the-character, but about the fact that they've written Hana as the perfect bride, the always supportive, loyal and good at everything spouse, and it makes me feel really icky now.

Thank you so much for that very observant insight, @bubblygothzombie! That is a very real possibility, and it would make sense considering that whenever Hana is spoken about, she's spoken about in terms of skills and perfection. Which is harmful - because often the narrative has the characters spout these "Perfect Hana" tidbits so they don't have to bother with actual characterization. Case in point? Look at the the descriptives given to each LI if you decide to do a non-imported playthrough:

[[MORE]]

Notice how every other character has their most obvious character trait (Dashing. Sarcastic. Humorous) followed by a descriptor of their loyalty (Honourable. Steadfast. Loyal). Hana's descriptors are literally just her beauty and her skills. Why not "devoted"? Or "dedicated"?

That descriptor sounds so impersonal, especially when you take into account that she left her home and family for us...twice. Placed herself in a difficult situation where she was vulnerable to bullying and cruelty. And still stays by our side and does an incredible amount of work for us even though she gets nothing but dust in return. If that is not loyalty then what is?

But no, Hana will never be known for that. She will be known for her 'niceness' and her usefulness. The writers haven't really cared to explore her much beyond that, and it's sad because there is so much simmering under the surface with her!

The other thing that more often than not leads me to believe in a lack of caring from the writing team, is the fact that they will not hesitate to place Hana in horrific situations...but will rarely (if ever) give her the space to actually talk about what she is going through - not unless the MC gets to go on her own ego trip being this woman's "savior". I'm beginning to realize that most of Hana's scenes in Book 1 - while poignant and beautifully written - were probably written that way so the MC could be placed on a pedestal in Hana's eyes.

The more I think about Book 2 (and Book 3 too) from Hana's perspective, the more disturbing it seems. Liam is the one who brings Hana back to the court, not Madeleine. Who tells us this? Not Liam who made the deal. Not Hana who heard it from him personally, accepted it, and returned for the MC's sake at her own personal risk. It's Drake. DRAKE's scene tells us that Liam arranged for Hana to return.

In the meantime what happens? Hana never gets to personally acknowledge that Madeleine wasn't responsible for her return, and is therefore expected to be publicly grateful and obedient to her future Queen without whose benevolence "she'd still be on the other side of the world". Hana is not allowed to contest this by the narrative, even in private.

Madeleine is allowed to use the fact that no one knows who was responsible for her return, against Hana...but Hana is never allowed on her own to tell the truth or even push back (and we know from that diamond scene where she tells off Olivia that she can push back on her own terms). She's placed in a very, very dangerous situation where the woman in power can abuse and threaten her, right up till the point where her mental health is affected (the aftermath of the chocolate episode shows her breaking down, and her friends need to come in, comfort and distract her. Shortly after this, Madeleine reveals that she did it to "break" Hana - which is seen as 'fun'. The MC herself this and confronts Madeleine about it).

How is this addressed in the story? By having Madeleine pass off her actions as a hazing ritual, which the MC doesn't bother to contest even though she knows better. The MC doesn't even try to warn Hana, doesn't even attempt to protect her. Even that one time we can call out Madeleine on her behaviour in Italy, is an option. The MC can choose to keep quiet as well and therefore keep Hana completely in the dark.

In that final scene in Book 3 where Madeleine confesses to Hana the motive behind her bullying, the MC behaves as though this is brand new information, even though she heard her words in Italy that night, loud and clear.

Later, the books try to cast Madeleine in a more sympathetic light, and in a bid to do so try to completely erase this episode. The one rare time it is (vaguely) mentioned, Madeleine says this:

I'm sure she's willing to let bygones be bygones. That's what this was reduced to, up until people spoke out against the possibility of Madeleine being Hana's potential love interest.

Why was Hana not allowed to push back, given that she clearly knew Liam's involvement in her return?? Because no one writing the story seemed to want to give her the edge over a figure like Madeleine. They wanted Hana under Madeleine's thumb, to never really have any power in front of her. And Madeleine isn't the only one Hana is forced into a "lesser" position around. The MC - who is her friend - not only benefits from Hana's help if she accepts it, but sometimes even takes credit (eg. the polo scene in Book 3 where she becomes popular for a move that was created by Hana). Plenty of the MC's approval points come from Hana's advice and help, and it's clear that of the two women (by default, definitely, and this is often clearer in the playthroughs where the MC fails at everything) Hana is the better courtier, and would make a much better Duchess. Yet she only gets a duchy if MC marries her, otherwise by the end of Book 2 she's basically without a proper home to call her own, without much of a position, living on someone else's charity. Even though she is "Perfect Hana" who has all the skills, and even in a case where the MC can't do anything right...the MC still gets the duchy.

Hana never actually gets what she deserves because the narrative makes her less powerful despite her skills. She had apparently 200 PinStop boards full of things she wanted for her wedding, but somehow ended up wearing a muted black dress for her own bachelorette, was declared "husband and wife" by the officiant at her own wedding, was treated like a bridesmaid+wedding planner at her own damn reception.

Olivia, for all her good traits, is allowed to get away with shitty behaviour towards Hana as well.

Perhaps one wouldn't call this bullying or harmful, but it does highlight how much of Hana's voice the narrative robs from her. Hana is allowed that one time in Book 1 to call out Olivia on her behaviour and attitude towards her. Despite paying 30 diamonds so that scene can happen, Olivia still quips in my playthrough (when Hana stands up to her father in Shanghai) about Hana "finally developing a spine". In the scene above (Book 3 Chapter 15), Hana is allowed to express anger (Wow! What progress!) but never really allowed to do anything about it. Olivia can get away with saying bullshit about her, Madeleine can get away with her bullying, Lorelei can (mostly) get away with her emotional abuse, with Hana constantly striving and working to educate her.

The even more disturbing thing is that when harm is done to other people...it is acknowledged no matter what wrong they may have done in the past, but in Hana's case the same pain isn't considered worth addressing. Madeleine's behaviour is labelled as bullying...if the victim in question is Penelope. Penelope is allowed to be disturbed by reminders of Madeleine, she is allowed to put forth demands to the group, even Drake (the same one who automatically suspects a traumatized Kiara) steps forward to tell her she is safe and Madeleine won't harm her. And if you don't coddle her exactly in the way she wants, Penelope will not travel on the Unity Tour with you, and her father will refuse to attend the wedding. Hana is never given this space, and her issues and pain are never taken this seriously.

I mean, I can somewhat understand loving a character and still making them only "perfect"...and not working so much on the imperfections for whatever reason. But in this case they slap her with the "perfect" stamp, make her blameless in most cases, and then brush aside all the wrongs done to her. How does a writing team do that to a character they claim to care about??

Tldr: The writers will publicly shower Hana with compliments and show lots of love in their interviews and livestreams and constantly call her "perfect", because it's the easiest thing to do. But the bitter fact is that when it comes right down to it they want her less powerful, less fulfilled, given less support - and they will anyday create more sympathy for the people who harmed her rather than ever acknowledge her pain or work on making things better for her. As you've stated here, it's sickening.

[morbid-n-macabre]

Tania Head was 9/11's most famous survivor. She shocked and inspired the country with her horrific tale of being on the 78th floor of the South tower when tragedy struck; Tania witnessed her assistant decapitated, and her own arm caught fire, but she had such a will to live! Tania was found by a fireman who put out the fire on her arm and brought her to safety. On her way out of the building, a dying man gave her his inscribed wedding ring and begged her return it to his wife, which Tania did. She was only one of 19 people who survived from above the point of impact. Sadly, Tania's fiance, Dave, who was in the North tower, was one of the 2800 victims who lost their lives that day.

After 911, hundreds of survivors formed a support group. It began online, eventually everyone came together for meetings in person. Tania was right there in the middle of it, she became one of the group's greatest cheerleaders. A woman who'd lost so much: a fiance, was so badly burned, yet she was so determined to be happy. She was a role model for the others, and fellow survivors just flocked to her, almost like a fan club. They were all so inspired by her cheerful demeanor. Others became depressed by her presence; they hadn't been through anywhere near as much as Tania, yet they were struggling to move forward.

Tania's story did evolve over time. "Red Bandana Man" was a 24 year old named Welles Crowder; Welles was a hero who ran into the towers more than once to save his fellow Americans. Sadly, Welles did perish during the collapse. When Tania heard about this, suddenly she integrated the young man into her story; Welles had been the one to save her, he was the one who put her fire out! In March of 2006, Tania met with Welles' parents, she told them that she had a picture of her hero in every room of her home. Mr. and Mrs. Crowder were so proud of their son, and they loved Tania for sharing her memories of their Welles.

Tania had an impressive story, but that's just it: It was all just a story. Many noticed the inconsistencies, but who would question her? Why would anyone doubt someone who'd been through so much? Plus Tania was doing so much good for the support group, and politicians were listening to her. Tania, who went to Stanford and Harvard, was eventually chosen to become the president of the World Trade Center Survivors' Network, and appointed to give the very first guided tours of ground zero to the mayor Rudy Giuliani and other dignitaries. Tania was the best known of all the survivors; undeniably famous.

On the 7th of September, 2006, the New York Times decided to write a piece about Tania and all she'd been through. Doing some light digging into her story, they realized nothing Tania said added up. For starters, her fiance's family had never even heard of her!

Come to find out, Tania Head had lied about literally everything, even her name; she was really Alicia Esteve Head, a woman from Barcelona, Spain. She came from a very privileged background, grew up in a well to do family. Though she was very well educated, attended some of the best schools in the entire world, she was absolutely not a Harvard Grad. Matter of fact, Alicia had never once even stepped foot in the US until two years after the attack! Those who knew her as Alicia said that she'd told various stories as to how she got the burn marks on her arm: Alicia has stated that she'd received it in a car wreck, or while riding horse in an exclusive country club. She had gotten involved in the 911 survivor's support groups online while living in Barcelona, then moved to New York to live out her dark fantasies.

As you can imagine, when Alicia was exposed for what she really was, the true 9/11 survivors were devastated. Through the years, many had often felt as though they weren't doing as well as Tania, even though she had been through so much more than them. Now she'd embarrassed them all, and tarnished their name. They were left to pick up the pieces; as soon as the story broke, Tania simply packed her bags and moved away. In February of 2008, the survivor's network received an email from a Spanish account stating that Tania had committed suicide; this appears to be a lie as well. Though there's really not much available about Alicia since the 911 fiasco, there's nothing that proves her death.

Even though what Alicia did seems incomprehensible, she was not the only one to fake surviving this tragedy; there have been several. Comedian Steve Rannazzisi told the world that he had been working for Merrill Lynch on the 54th floor of the South tower that day. His story was later proved to be false, and Steve apologized. Neither he nor Alicia gained financially from their lies, the motive seems to be attention; they wanted fame, and they got it.

*There's a very interesting documentary about Tania Head, if you're interested:

https://youtu.be/-eeAF-dEuww

[naagi]

The Referendum

By Tim Kreider

Recently an editor asked me for an essay about arrested adolescence, joking: “Of course, I thought of you.”

It is worth mentioning that this editor is an old college friend; we’ve driven across the country, been pantsless in several nonsexual contexts, and accidentally hospitalized each other in good fun. He is now a respectable homeowner and family man; I am not. So I couldn’t help but wonder: is there something condescending about this assignment? Does he consider me some sort of amusing and feckless manchild instead of a respected cartoonist whose work is beloved by hundreds and has made me a thousandaire, who’s been in a committed relationship for 15 years with the same cat?

My weird touchiness on this issue — taking offense at someone offering to pay me money for my work — is symptomatic of a more widespread syndrome I call “The Referendum.”

The Referendum is a phenomenon typical of (but not limited to) midlife, whereby people, increasingly aware of the finiteness of their time in the world, the limitations placed on them by their choices so far, and the narrowing options remaining to them, start judging their peers’ differing choices with reactions ranging from envy to contempt. The Referendum can subtly poison formerly close and uncomplicated relationships, creating tensions between the married and the single, the childless and parents, careerists and the stay-at-home. It’s exacerbated by the far greater diversity of options available to us now than a few decades ago, when everyone had to follow the same drill. We’re all anxiously sizing up how everyone else’s decisions have worked out to reassure ourselves that our own are vindicated — that we are, in some sense, winning.

It’s especially conspicuous among friends from youth. Young adulthood is an anomalous time in people’s lives; they’re as unlike themselves as they’re ever going to be, experimenting with substances and sex, ideology and religion, trying on different identities before their personalities immutably set. Some people flirt briefly with being freethinking bohemians before becoming their parents. Friends who seemed pretty much indistinguishable from you in your 20s make different choices about family or career, and after a decade or two these initial differences yield such radically divergent trajectories that when you get together again you can only regard each other’s lives with bemused incomprehension.

I may be exceptionally conscious of the Referendum because my life is so different from most of my cohort’s; at 42 I’ve never been married and don’t want kids. I recently had dinner with some old friends, a couple with two small children, and when I told them about my typical Saturday in New York City — doing the Times crossword, stopping off at a local flea market, maybe biking across the Brooklyn Bridge — they looked at me like I was describing my battles with the fierce and elusive Squid-Men among the moons of Neptune. The obscene wealth of free time at my command must’ve seemed unimaginably exotic to them, since their next thousand Saturdays are already booked.

What they also can’t imagine is having too much time on your hands, being unable to fill the hours, having to just sit and stare at the emptiness at the center of your life. But I’m sure that to them this problem seems as pitiable as morbid obesity would to the victims of famine.

A lot of my married friends take a vicarious interest in my personal life. It’s usually just nosy, prurient fun, but sometimes smacks of the sort of moralism that H.G. Wells called “jealousy with a halo.” Sometimes it seems sort of starved, like audiences in the Great Depression watching musicals about the glitterati. It’s true that my romantic life has produced some humorous anecdotes, but good stories seldom come from happy experiences. Some of my married friends may envy my freedom in an abstract, daydreamy way, misremembering single life as some sort of pornographic smorgasbord, but I doubt many of them would actually choose to trade places with me. Although they may miss the thrill of sexual novelty, absolutely nobody misses dating.

I regard their more conventional domestic lives with the same sort of ambivalence. Like everyone, I’ve seen some marriages in which I would discreetly hang myself within 12 hours, but others have given me cause to envy their intimacy, loyalty, and irreplaceable decades of invested history. [Note to all my married friends: your marriage is one of the latter.] Though one of those friends cautioned me against idealizing: “It’s not as if being married means you’re any less alone.”

Most of my married friends now have children, the rewards of which appear to be exclusively intangible and, like the mysteries of some gnostic sect, incommunicable to outsiders. In fact it seems from the outside as if these people have joined a dubious cult: they claim to be much happier and more fulfilled than ever before, even though they live in conditions of appalling filth and degradation, deprived of the most basic freedoms and dignity, and owe unquestioning obedience to a capricious and demented master.

I have never even idly thought for a single passing second that it might make my life nicer to have a small, rude, incontinent person follow me around screaming and making me buy them stuff for the rest of my life. [Note to friends with children: I am referring to other people’s children, not to yours.] But there are also moments when some part of me wonders whether I am not only missing the biological boat but something I cannot even begin to imagine — an entire dimension of human experience undetectable to my senses, like a flatlander scoffing at the theoretical concept of sky.

But I can only imagine the paralytic terror that must seize my friends with families as they lie awake calculating mortgage payments and college funds and realize that they are locked into their present lives for farther into the future than the mind’s eye can see. Judging from the unanimity with which parents preface any gripe about children with the disclaimer, “Although I would never wish I hadn’t had them and I can’t imagine life without them,” I can’t help but wonder whether they don’t have to repress precisely these thoughts on a daily basis.

Yes: the Referendum gets unattractively self-righteous and judgmental. Quite a lot of what passes itself off as a dialogue about our society consists of people trying to justify their own choices as the only right or natural ones by denouncing others’ as selfish or pathological or wrong. So it’s easy to overlook that hidden beneath all this smug certainty is a poignant insecurity, and the naked 3 A.M. terror of regret.

The problem is, we only get one chance at this, with no do-overs. Life is, in effect, a non-repeatable experiment with no control. In his novel about marriage, “Light Years,” James Salter writes: “For whatever we do, even whatever we do not do prevents us from doing its opposite. Acts demolish their alternatives, that is the paradox.” Watching our peers’ lives is the closest we can come to a glimpse of the parallel universes in which we didn’t ruin that relationship years ago, or got that job we applied for, or got on that plane after all. It’s tempting to read other people’s lives as cautionary fables or repudiations of our own.

A colleague of mine once hosted a visiting cartoonist from Scandinavia who was on a promotional tour. My colleague, who has a university job, a wife and children, was clearly a little wistful about the tour, imagining Brussels, Paris, and London, meeting new fans and colleagues and being taken out for beers every night. The cartoonist, meanwhile, looked forlornly around at his host’s pleasant row house and sighed, almost to himself: “I would like to have such a house.”

One of the hardest things to look at in this life is the lives we didn’t lead, the path not taken, potential left unfulfilled. In stories, those who look back — Lot’s wife, Orpheus and Eurydice — are lost. Looking to the side instead, to gauge how our companions are faring, is a way of glancing at a safer reflection of what we cannot directly bear, like Perseus seeing the Gorgon safely mirrored in his shield.

----------

This article originally appeared in The New York Times on September 17, 2009.

[slothgiirl]

forever isn’t for everyone (is forever for you?) part 5

London is gray and dull after Australia and the festivals we'd been at. And like it's welcoming us all back, it's raining. 

Foggy, a complete 180. It doesn't help that it's night, and I haven't seen day since two days ago, having spent another day traveling. Cramped up in my seat, squished between other passengers. 

This time I had slept fine on board, exhausted from touring. We're all dead on our feet and unlike the last few days, we don't puke into a cab, we just sort of wave and leave and it's sad. I think after all we've done, all the time spent together, we leave like it's nothing. I know even I need some alone time. 

But it's still sad to me. 

The second leg of the tour isn't for months and I have a week off before having to go into work. A week I spend sleeping and doing laundry and becoming a couch potato. 

Another week of catching up with friends and getting lunch before I have to go back to work. It's the day before I go back to work that Alex texts me, my heart lurching, an unconscious desire that had sunk into my mind. 

In Australia, it had seemed easy to believe that a man like Alex might like an ordinary girl like me. Perhaps I was selling myself short, but my confidence was a fickle thing that still needed propping up after my acne ridden teenage years. 

More eloquent than in person, his preference for written word is obvious.

I was hoping we might have a listen to the record I told you about. A drink or two, a small offering in comparison to the pleasure of your company once more, in the city we both inhabit, where everything will seem solid and less ephemeral than abroad. -Alexander

It was long and flowery for a text and made me dizzy with anticipation, I threw out everything I'd been told to do when a boy texts you and replied instantly, walking home from tescos trying to make food instead of getting takeout for a change, eagerly asking for a time and address. 

It was nice to be able to come home and do nothing. A privilege I couldn't imagine coming back from while my roommates came home from their jobs dead on their feet. 

Grueling weeks on the road seemed a small price to pay.

I take the tube over to his, a beautiful georgian house among many in Chelsea, save for some dying plants outside, a clear victim of his recent travels, thick dark curtains obscuring all the windows.The street is littered with nice cars, millionaires the only people who can afford the nice neighborhood. London's market on the uptick. 

At least I feel at ease in the dying light, the sun spilling in the sky like egg yolk as it sets, turning the clouds blood red, casting long dark shadows. I guess Alex is not a struggling musician, or maybe he's just from a well off family. 

It's then I know that I start to feel anxious, no longer buoyed by our shared work, just me and him and would that be enough? It was stupid when I already knew how easy it was to be with him. 

But this felt more concrete then wondering around a foreign city had. The thought of kissing him no longer a far off wish but a possibility so close it had my fingertips tingling. 

Alex opens the door with a boyish smile on his lips, clad in loose blue jeans, frayed at the hem, and a grey t shirt emblazoned with give a damn, hair hopelessly disheveled as if he'd just woken up. "El, love" he says fondly, after a second, "I'm delighted you're here." 

Waving me inside. I'm expecting the inside to look like a Tatler photo shoot, more burberry than marks and spenser sales rack, with the uninviting feeling carefully decorated homes had. 

Instead, the rugs are rich, intricate designs, the edges frayed with time and use. There's a thin layer of dust in the paintings hanging on the wall, one signed manet, another of a slender woman with doe like eyes and hair the colour of milk tea, in vivid realism, only the clothes betraying the age, paint cracked with time by the frame.  

Following along, I spy the stacks of books piled high on every table, some new others yellowed with age. 

There's a silver tray on the coffee table littered with pens and paper and a beautiful piano in the room he leads me too, room lit by stained glass lamps in the shape of flowers, the shades tightly drawn with a beautiful japanese inspired screen for good measure. 

A guitar rests in one settee. It's closer to an antique shop than any catalogue. "Please," Alex says, "sit, make yourself comfortable," as he goes to place the needle on a record, a small library of records covering a bookshelf nearby. 

As an after though he adds, "don't mind the mess."

"It's fine," I smile, watching him, at ease in his home, wanting to run my fingers through his hair and find out if his hair was as soft as it looked, "it's kind of the vintage shop of my dreams. I don't know where to look because everything is catching my eye." 

As I'd hoped, he laughs. "That's certainly a way of looking at it innit?"

The first notes of the record filling the room. Alex takes a seat next to me on the plush sofa. I kick off my shoes, surprised at how quickly I take a liking to the jazz music, curling up on the couch, dim lighting adding to the cozy atmosphere, before I catch him looking at me with the same fondness from earlier. With an easy smile on his lips.

For a moment, we just gaze at each other with a certain schoolyard shyness that settles when neither of us looks away. 

His expressive eyes on mine. 

A gaze so intense I can't hold it for long before I have too look away. "It's funny," I note, "the music has me picturing the concert clearly. Like I'd been there. Fuck that must have been a night."

"It was." Alex nods, his gaze still heavy on me. "They all lived for their music, bodies a vessel for playing the notes swirling around their souls."It was a beautiful thought, and I wasn't sure how to reply to the sheer earnestness. 

"You said there was wine," I ask all faux innocence, wanting something to take the edge off. 

Hyper aware of every movement I make. I want to sink back into the ease we'd had in Auckland and not this. The thought of him wanting me as much as I wanted him was driving me crazy. 

"Oh so that's why you came," he grins so alight with amusement, eyes twinkling. 

"The musics good too." 

"And the company?"I shrug, teasing, "I've had worse."

"Oi!"

I snort.

He doesn't move to go for wine. "I'm starting to feel superfluous El," Alex say in his thick yorkshire accent, a drawl to his words, each one carefully considered as he takes his time to form a reply, uncaring about the time he takes. "It's not a very nice feeling."

I roll my eyes. "Don't tell me you need as much ego stroking as Miles?"

"Miles does all the ego stroking for himself."

"That doesn't surprise me," I laugh, "I think you need a lot of ego to get up on stage every night. I don't have stage fright but it's all very weird to have that many people looking up at you."

He nods in agreement, "it's a good thing that's not part of my job. All I wanted to do was 'ave people listen to my little songs."

"Well I'd say job well done." 

The album had debuted top of the UK charts. And he'd written the lions share with Miles. Alex ducks his head, red rising to his cheekbones, a stark contrast against his pale skin. 

Even a few weeks down under had done nothing to rid him of the lack of colour that came with living in such a gloomy city. 

"You've got the whole country singing along."

"Well. . .Miles and the boys do. I just helped Miles a little or well we just jammed together. Can't help myself around that man. . .rarely has anyone understood me so well."

"Have you always written songs?" None of my childhood hobbies had stayed with me, consumed with studying. 

"Can't help myself," he admits. "A tune or some words. . .coming to me mind. There till I write them down."

"That's loads more creative than me. I always think it would be fun to draw but I'm imagining some renaissance masterpiece and it always comes out a derpy stick figure or worse. So I just give up and read or go for a walk." Even in the winter, Greenwich park was beautiful, and bundled up it was bareable. 

"What do you like to read," Alex asks, tilting his head towards me, curiousity brimming in his soft eyes. The space between us closing in as we lean towards each other, disarmed by our conversation.  

His hand resting on his knee, pulled out on the sofa, making me feel shameless about having my legs pulled up as well. 

"Articles. Very depressing boring world news. Free essays on the paris review. It's a shame prints dead or else I'd try to justify buying copies. But I think I'd rather have a cuppa tea. With those fruit bits or boba."

"Is print dead?" 

Alex says it with a layer of incredulity, baffled. 

"Yeah. This thing called the internet came along."

"Bloody hell," he jokes, "I'm still waiting for the windows explorer to. . .do it's thing."

"You mean load? Not surprised. The selfies you tried to take in Sydney were awful. Thankfully those people were there to take our picture."

"Be easy with me El," Alex laughs, shaking his head at me, eyes crinkling in amusement. 

"I'll have to think about it," I tease, leaning against the softness of the sofa, resting my head as I take the sight of him in, warmth spreading in my chest, thrilled to know that I can make him laugh, that he'd meant it when he said he wanted me over. 

It's a funny little skip of my heart as hope takes root, the idea that he might like me as much as I like him, making me smile, happy for the first time since I got back. Really happy, not just content to be home, to lazy around and get time to myself.  

He pours us both a cuppa wine in ceramic cups, "no wine snobs here," he grins and the music plays and his knee taps to the beat against my leg. 

Every touch too much and yet not enough, desire welling up in the pit of my stomach. It's easy to drink, pour another glass out."

I don't think anyone has the time or concentration to listen to a fourty minute song anymore," I note, sipping lazyily at the wine, my palette too unrefined to know if it's cheap or expensive. 

"It's a jam session!"

I drink, trying to hide my smile at his expression, affronted on behalf of music everywhere, the seriousness to his mouth, frowning, a directness to his gaze. 

Failing, I giggle, slumping against the sofa, looking up at Alex through my lashes. "I thought it was just a very long song."

"El." His voice, that thick accent, his unique drawl, my face burning, as he leans over, empty bottle of wine forgotten on the coffee table. His hand cups my cheek, the tips of his fingers calloused in a delightful way, toes curling on the sofa cushion, thumb running over my bottom lip. 

Heart beat lodged in my throat, I can't speak, the desire bubbling over, wanting to spill over and kiss him already. Alex pressing lightly over my body, trapping me against the sofa. 

I swallow thickly, my fingers going to neck, threading my hands through his caramel hair, soft and silken, and pull him down to kiss me hard. 

I can feel his satisfied smile against my skin as he kisses me back passionately, without any hesitation, all of his fumbling for words gone. All confidence and want. 

Alex's other hand going down to my hip, rubbing cicrcles over my cotton shirt. My head spins with want and desire and Alex all tangled together, finally, kissing him eagerly as he shifts, shoving a cushion thoughtlessly off the sofa. I lay down, skin burning hot. Too many layers between us. 

His lips against mine. Tasting of wine and bitter chocolate, a tanginess I can't get enough of. 

My mouth opening up to his, tongue exploring my mouth, my hands running through his hair. Alex pressed against me as I lay with my back on the couch, solid and too many layers between us. 

He pulls back, pulling up at the hem of my shirt with a naughty schoolboy grin, endearing all the same. 

"I hate winter," I whisper against his cool skin, colder than the room, barely emanating any heat at all in the frigid english winter, "it makes getting undressed such a pain." 

Alex laughs, pulling his own shirt over his head. "I'll be sure to make it worth your time."

"Cocky bastard," I utter as he hooks his fingers through the loops of my jeans, pulling me closer to him, the feeling of his own cock, already half hard, sends me reeling. 

In leiu of a response, Alex trails kisses down my neck, sucking at the skin, sure to leave marks tomorrow. 

My fingers dig into his hair, breathily moaning his name. Shamelessly, he undoes the button on my jeans. 

It's never sexy to take off jeans, kicking them off rapidly, as I reach for him, kissing him again fiercely. The feel of his cool skin sending sending shivers down my spine. Lithe but toned. 

Alex cups one of my breasts, nipple hardening through the delicate lace. "Fuck El," he groans, hips grinding down against mine.I want him. I want him so much, feeling feverish with desire.  

All my thoughts of him. 

Of Alex. 

He slides his jeans off easily enough, cock hard through the fabric of his boxers. I look up at him, as I unclip my bralete, adding it to the pile of things on the coffee table. 

There's always an initial nervousness, when sleeping with someone new. And yet, I know Alex wouldn't hurt me. I trust him. 

"El-,"

"Come here," I reach for him, a whine to my voice, "come here and fuck me Alex."

He does. 

[nuclearblastuk]

CRO-MAGS | sign to Arising Empire, release EP 'Don't Give In' + start pre-order for limited edition 7" EP vinyl

New York hardcore legends CRO-MAGS are back and have freshly signed a Europe-wide record deal with Arising Empire. Welcome to the family! Today, CRO-MAGS have released a brand new EP Don't Give In via all digital platforms, and have also launched pre-orders for the EP in limited edition 7"  vinyl format, which will be available in three colour variations from August 2nd via Arising Empire. Buy and/or stream the Don't Give In EP here: https://Cro-Mags.lnk.to/DontGiveIn Pre-order the upcoming Don't Give In EP vinyl: https://Cro-Mags.lnk.to/DontGiveIn Harley Flanagan: "In late 2018 I went in to the studio to start working on a new Cro-Mags album. After recording the first few songs, I got a strange phone call in the middle of the night, that turned out to be from Tony Brummel, Victory Records (to this day I have no idea where or how he got my number). I thought it was a prank call; it turned out not to be, and I started negotiating a record deal with Victory Records. Arising Empire in Europe later got in touch and with a team of lawyers including Donna Tobin (Frankfurt Kurnit), Dave Stein etc. and the help of Robert Kampf, former CEO of Century Media and his team, we negotiated deals that we are all very happy with. Mike Gitter from Century made the introduction to engineer John Ferrara and Producer Arthur Rizk, and the recording process went into full swing. One of the many things that makes me happy about signing with Victory and Arising Empire, is that they are genuinely fans of my music and know my history; they are not just labels trying to make money off me or the genre. I know that I am working with the best team, and the best musicians to launch the next era of Cro-Mags." Tracklisting: 01. Don't Give In 02. Drag You Under 03. No One's Victim

CRO-MAGS, the seminal crossover hardcore NYC outfit founded and fronted by Harley Flanagan, have announced some headline dates across Europe in support of their landmark album, Best Wishes 30th anniversary. Staring September 27th in Essen, Germany, the trek will also see the band make appearances in the UK at The Underworld, France and Austria, among other countries, as well as a stop at Belgium’s Limburg Hardcore Fest. Support will come from US based crossover newcomers RED DEATH.

Comments Flanagan "I'm looking forward to going to Europe and the UK, and performing songs from Best Wishes and the rest of the entire Cro-Mags catalogue. I am currently in the studio working on a new album and we may surprise you with some new music as well."

CRO-MAGS

Best Wishes

, 30th Anniversary-Tour

w/ special guest RED DEATH

27.09. Essen, Germany @ Turock  

28.09. Limburg, Belgium @ Limburg Hardcore Fest  

29.09. London, United Kingdom @ The Underworld

30.09. Paris, France @ Gibus  

 01.10. Stuttgart, Germany @ De Keller Klub

02.10. Prague, Czech Rep @ Futurum    

03.10. Budapest, Hungary @ Hu Dürer Kert

04.10. Graz, Austria @ Explosiv   

05.10. Leipzig, Germany @ Naumanns  

06.10. Berlin, Germany @ Musik & Frieden

The history of CRO-MAGS is integral to the history of hardcore, it’s evolution from punk and the development of alternative music genres such as hardcore, cross-over, thrash metal, post punk and grunge to name just a few. Numerous iconic bands from METALLICA to GREEN DAY, and individuals such as Dave Grohl have credited CRO-MAGS with having had a primal influence on their development.

Born out of the violence and depravity of the Lower East Side of New York in the late 70's and early 80's, CRO-MAGS was the brain-child of a very young Harley Flanagan (at the time 14 years old) when still playing with THE STIMULATORS. By 1982/83 he wrote and recorded the very first CRO-MAGS demos consisting of  four songs that would become the blue print for the seminal 1986 Age of Quarrel. He wrote all of the music, played each instrument and sang. Before long he connected with Parris Mayhew and the two started writing music and auditioning band members.

After several line-ups, 5 studio albums (beyond the original demos) and 30 + years of tours around the world, CRO-MAGS remains one of the most iconic hardcore bands with arguably the greatest reach beyond the genre.  CRO-MAGS

“In the Beginning” Why now? In Harley’s words: “Lemmy came to me in a dream and said, ‘Take it back mate, it’s yours, you started it.’ The fact is, I never legally lost the name Cro-Mags, others were using it without my permission, while I was raising my kids. An agreement was struck with the previous members and I regained full control over the name worldwide. Now with an amazing line-up and two record deals I am moving forward. I have a great team of people behind me; I have never felt stronger, better or more creative.” And so bassist Harley Flanagan has reached a settlement with singer John Joseph and drummer Mackie Jayson regarding ownership of the CRO-MAGS name. Flanagan will now perform under the name CRO-MAGS while Joseph and Jayson will perform as CRO-MAGS "JM". In 2019 Cro-Mags signed with Victory Records and Arising Empire. The EP consists of 3 tracks, ‘Don’t Give In’, ‘Drag You Under’, and ‘No One's Victim’. Harley: “The lyrics are meant to inspire and kick you in the ass when you need it. Some might not take them that way, but that’s my intention. Sometimes you need someone to tell you to man-the-fuck-up, or woman-up, cause life ain’t easy and you will get crushed if you don’t. I wrote them more for myself than anyone else, cause sometimes I need to hear these things, as I think we all do.” "Some of them were inspired by loss, the loss of friends, by suicide, cancer, struggling with depression, mortality and ultimately the beauty of life. You have to be able to recognise it, even when you’re suffering and struggling. Although we all fight our own personal battles, and they vary, none of us are alone in the fact that we have to fight our battles, and many of them we must fight alone. In that way, we all have something in common, besides needing basic things like food water and shelter. We also must learn how to cope with struggle and mortality. Some rise to the top while others crash and burn." "I feel like I crashed and burned enough times that I somehow managed to rise back to the top. I feel stronger, happier mentally, spiritually and physically than I have in years; and it did not come without a struggle or cost. But that is life; you have to fight for what you want, and you also have to know how temporary it all is." The EP features along with Harley Flanagan, Gabby Abularach (Gil Evans Orchestra etc.) who played on Cro-Mags’ Alpha Omega (1992) and Near Death Experience (1993); Rocky George (formerly of Suicidal Tendencies and Fishbone) who played on Cro-Mags’ Revenge (2000); and Gary "GMan" Sullivan (who has played with everyone from the B-52's, Berny Worrel of Parliament Funkadelic, TM Stevens etc.), who joined Cro-Mags in the 90's. Discography: • The Age Of Quarrel (1986) • Best Wishes (1989) • Alpha Omega (1992) • Near Death Experience (1993) • Revenge (2000)  

More info: www.facebook.com/realcromags www.twitter.com/realcromags www.instagram.com/realcromags

[douxreviews]

Quantum Leap - Season Two Review

"He works in mysterious ways."

While still formulaic, season two is much better than the brief leap-of-the-week season one. Scott Bakula and Dean Stockwell are a lot more comfortable with their roles, and many of the leaps are more interesting and complicated. There are also some intriguing additions to what we know about our main characters and some progress with the arc story — particularly in the premiere and the finale.

What works

Sam is enjoying leaping around and helping people. He doesn't seem to mind that he left his own life behind, although the continuing partial amnesia could be responsible for that.

Another issue they begin to address in season two is what became of Sam's physical body. In season one, the saga sell says that Sam "stepped into the quantum accelerator and vanished." In season two, we're told that Sam's physical body is in a "waiting room" back at the project, and that when he leaps, Al questions whoever just leaped into Sam's body so that he can locate where and when Sam went.

The best episodes of season two are the premiere and the finale.

2.1 "Honeymoon Express (April 27, 1960): I love this episode, mostly because of the cleverness of the twist ending. Al, whom we learn here is an admiral, is testifying before a hostile senate subcommittee responsible for further funding of the Quantum Leap Project, while Sam leaps into a cop who is on his honeymoon. Sam's bride, Diane, is a law student who is preparing for her bar exam.

Although it was mentioned in the season one pilot that God might be responsible for what is happening to Sam, here it is confirmed. Because Sam virtuously avoids hitting the sheets with Diane even though he is attracted to her, he keeps trying to help her study for the bar instead. At the very moment when Sam is ready to give in and make love with Diane, she has a breakthrough, finally grasping a key legal concept that would have made her fail the exam, and Sam leaps out. At that moment, the grumpy male head of the senate subcommittee turns into Diane, thirty years older, and she tells Al that the Quantum Leap funding has been approved. Only Al is aware that anything has changed.

Two of my other favorite shows had finales that centered on the existence of God, which didn't make me happy because it felt like a cop out. Not Quantum Leap though, because honestly, the only possible explanation for what is happening to Sam is divine intervention.

The only problem I have with this episode is the multitude of smoochfests. I did like that Sam and Al discussed the moral implications of Sam having sex with Diane, even though she wouldn't have known because she believed Sam was her husband. I also like the implied feminist message that Diane is no one's possession, and that she was destined for great things.

2.22 "M.I.A. (April 1, 1969)": Sam leaps into a San Diego cop. Al tells Sam that the purpose of the leap is to convince a Navy nurse named Beth Calavicci to not give up on her M.I.A. husband, who has been imprisoned in Vietnam for two years. But as it turns out, Sam is there to save the life of another cop, his partner, Roger Skaggs (Jason Beghe).

This episode features an exceptional and moving performance by Dean Stockwell, who ripped my heart out in the last ten minutes. Al is clearly signaling confusion and distress throughout the episode; he describes to Sam the torturous confinement that Beth's husband is experiencing without revealing that it is himself who is enduring it. When Sam guesses correctly that Skaggs is the reason for the leap, not Beth, Al confesses that Beth is his first wife and the love of his life, and when she had him declared dead and remarried, Al never recovered, and his other marriages never worked.

"God" allows Sam a few extra minutes before leaping so that Al can say goodbye to Beth, even though, of course, she can't see or hear him. He tells her how much he loves her, begs her to wait for him when we know she won't, and then they dance to Beth's favorite song. The thing is, what happens with Beth explains everything we need to know about Al, and it turns him from Sam's supportive friend and occasional comic relief into a tragic figure. Susan Diol as Beth Calavicci also does a wonderful job. We can believe she is the love of Al's life, that she is incredibly special to him, and her conflict is so well done. Sam's gentle treatment of Al, even though Al misled him and nearly caused Skaggs' death, is also touching. This episode never fails to make me cry.

The music replacement controversy, particularly regarding the episode "M.I.A."

As I mentioned in my review of season one, when Quantum Leap was initially released on DVD way back when, Universal had neglected to get the rights to a number of the songs featured on the series, simply because it was prohibitively expensive. Changing the music changes the series, and the fans were, to put it mildly, livid about it. Although the music replacement had a serious detrimental effect on "Good Morning, Peoria," the worst offender was "M.I.A." because that final scene where Al says goodbye to Beth is framed by the Righteous Brothers' "Unchained Melody" and Ray Charles' "Georgia," two memorable songs that truly cannot be replaced.

Netflix and Amazon have the original version of "M.I.A." Hulu does not. For what it's worth.

Other episodes of note

2.2 "Disco Inferno (April 1, 1976)": Not really notable, but if you're watching Quantum Leap on Hulu or Netflix, you've probably noticed that this episode is missing. I went to the trouble of buying it on Amazon because I'm hung up on that completion thing, and it's not worth it. "Disco Inferno" is about a stuntman who helps his younger brother defy their stuntman father and become a musician. The only important piece of it is that Sam remembers that he has an older brother named Tom who died fighting in Vietnam.

2.4 "What Price Gloria? (October 16, 1961)": This episode is notable because it is the first time that Sam leaps into a woman, so of course it goes the preachy route and is all about sexism. Al is hot for Sam in a woman's body, which I just found uncomfortable. What I liked most was Scott Bakula wearing women's clothing without making too much of a thing about it. It feels like for Bakula, it's just another costume and he's such a good actor that playing a woman doesn't throw him.

2.6 "Good Morning, Peoria (September 9, 1959)": I loved this episode; it was a lot of fun. Maybe it because the stakes were less life and death and more personal. Patricia Richardson does such a great job as Sam's love interest, and the romance actually works this time. It also features a lot of great old music, and Sam pretty much channeling Robin Williams in Good Morning, Vietnam.

Like "Honeymoon Express," the question of Sam having a physical relationship while he is in someone else's body is again addressed. Sam is uncomfortable about romancing Patricia Richardson's character, but he does it anyway and it turns out that it was the right thing to do.

2.8 "Jimmy (October 14, 1964)": Sam leaps into a young, developmentally disabled man who is trying to hold down his first job while encountering bullying and prejudice. The most interesting thing about this one is Sam starts acting differently, clumsily, because he is being treated that way. Possibly a little preachy, but very well done.

2.10 "Catch a Falling Star (May 21, 1979)": Quantum Leap does Man of La Mancha, with the great actor and singer John Cullum as a guest star. This episode is pretty much an excuse to have Scott Bakula sing show tunes onstage and romance his teenage crush music teacher, but there's nothing wrong with that. There was also a deeper meaning when you think about it, because Sam really is like Don Quixote, spending his life rescuing others. Wonderful episode.

2.18 "Pool Hall Blues (September 4, 1954)": Loved this one. Maybe because Sam is so convincing as an adult woman's grandfather (loved the costume). I also loved the laser lines that allowed Sam to be a brilliant pool player.

What doesn't work

I don't usually point out the badness of bad episodes, but these three are truly awful.

2.11 "A Portrait for Troian (February 7, 1971)": We have a haunting, a mysterious lake full of bodies, a vanishing housekeeper and a pointless romance, none of which work. Which is too bad, since it stars Deborah Pratt, who was a writer/producer of the series, the saga sell narrator, and later the voice of Ziggy.

2.16 "Freedom (November 22, 1970)": Another poorly written stinker about an elderly Native American who wants to go home to die. See rule five.

2.17 "Good Night, Dear Heart (November 9, 1957)": This time Sam is a mortician who solves a murder instead of preventing one, which makes absolutely no sense to me. The circumstances of the victim's life and demise are depressing, and it all seems incredibly pointless.

Bits and pieces:

-- "Sea Bride" featured the Queen Mary, which is a tourist attraction in Long Beach, California. I toured it twice and I always enjoy stumbling over stuff that was filmed there.

-- I particularly liked that his second leap into a woman's body ("Another Mother") had nothing to do with sexism; he was there to save his host's son.

-- Famous people: The Beatles and Chubby Checker. In fact, it's the real Chubby Checker, who did a cameo in "Good Morning, Peoria."

-- Notable actors: Lorne Greene (Bonanza), a teenage Kelli Williams (Lie to Me), Robert Duncan MacNeill, Marcia Cross, and Troian Bellisario when she was still a very little girl in "Another Mother."

-- Sam's hair is way too long at first, and is later a good bit shorter. But if he's in someone else's body, can he even get his hair cut? Maybe someone cut Sam's hair in the Waiting Room.

-- Small children and animals can see Al, and genuine psychics can sense his presence. Al's presence affects EMF.

-- Sam creates the Heimlich maneuver.

-- More about Sam: he was a child prodigy, not a surprise, and a concert pianist.

-- More about Al: he was an astronaut. His mother abandoned him when he was a child and his sister was disabled. Al also looks better in red than in green.

-- The cliffhanger endings referencing Sam's next leap still bother me. Especially when we get one that relates to a rerun.

To conclude

I haven't finished my rewatch yet, but "M.I.A." and the two-parter that starts season three are my favorite episodes of the series,

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.