#Also the editorial had no glasses and I took that as a free pass to leave them out

[imhere-imqueer-ilikedeer]

Sparkly Sides

[cecilspeaks]

165 - Charlie

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are written about on Wikipedia. Welcome to Night Vale.

Charles Rainier grew up in Becket, Massachusetts, nestled in the rolling small hills of the Berkshires. The fiery fall leaves, pristine winter snowfall, lush spring flowers and sparkling summer lakes belied the average life of young Charles. He went to school, passed his classes, he spent time with friends seeing popular movies and playing popular games. His family ate food together and generally got along. When he wanted to be alone, he went to a small pond, hidden in the woods, to fish. He studied sociology at Amherst College and graduated in the top 50 percent of his class. Nothing about his unremarkable upbringing indicated he would one day be standing in the middle of a desert, behind a roadblock, holding a rifle and a flashlight, and searching for fugitives from his own asylum.

Last month, a dozen inmates of the Night Vale Asylum escaped during a production of a play. As an attendee of that play, I would say that while the escape was clearly not part of the original draft of the script, it made for an exciting resolution. I mean, bout 30 minutes in Carlos and I were like, is there going to be a car chase or a shootout or something, I mean that play was bo-o-o-orring! And then suddenly, there was both! But the warden, Charles Rainier from Becket, Massachusetts, did not like the last minute edits to the plot, as he and the Sheriff’s Secret Police have yet to round up any of the inmates now on the run, somewhere in our vast desert. Night Vale citizens have expressed deep concerns about their safety. A scathing op-ed in yesterday’s Daily Journal by Leann Hart read: “Warden Rainier should never have been in charge of such an important institution. His unchecked irresponsibility will lead us all to be killed by psychopaths, who surely hide now inside our basements, our attics, our laundry hampers, perhaps inside our own pants pockets.” The editorial continued: “They wield knives, ropes, wrenches, candlesticks, or pipes. And when we least expect it, these crazed killers will leap out at us, screaming bout eating our faces or feeding us to rodents. Or whatever other evil actions those two very funny women are always describing on “My  Favorite Murrderrr”. Charles Rainier called Hart’s claims “neurotypical ableism”, saying that we become too biased from movies and TV shows that play up harmful tropes about mental illnesses. He added that none of the peoples inside were of immediate anger to any individual in Night Vale. The Night Vale chapter of the ACLU then responded, calling for in investigation into a public facility that would imprison people who had committed no criminal acts and were of no harm to society. Charles Rainier replied: “I said they wouldn’t hurt any individual. I didn’t say they were of no harm to society.”

But who were the people in the asylum? Carlos and I attended the production of the play “18713/NTSB”, partially to have a nice date night, just the two of us. But also because I was curious if I would see Amelia Anna Alfaro there. The air traffic controller has not been seen since 2012, after hearing voices from the missing flight, Delta 18713. There were rumors she was checked into the asylum. Other rumors, that she had gone off to find the missing plane, and other other rumors, that she was disappeared by a Vague yet Menacing Government Agency.

Amelia was not inside the asylum the night of the breakout. But Doug Biondi was there. He played the pilot of the missing plane in the play we saw. Doug was the impetus for this entire story, really, because it was Doug who, according to Sheriff Sam, had real information about the missing plane. Members of the National Transportation and Safety Board had also come to Night Vale to talk to Doug about what he knew, and Sheriff Sam obliged by sending those agents from Washington DC on an undercover investigation into the asylum. Yet, like Doug and the dozens of other inmates in that fearful place, they did not return.

According to to Doug Biondi’s journal, which Carlos and I found inside the asylum after the play, warden Charles Rainier developed a paradoxical logic for dealing with these inmates. He encouraged them to talk openly bout their feelings under the guise of healing them, but the more they expressed their thoughts and emotions, the more the warden used this information as proof of their insanity, and by extension, ineligibility for release. But as Doug elaborates, if inmates refused to talk, they were deemed uncooperative and of course, ineligible for release. Reading further into Doug’s journal, I realized it’s just like that novel, “Catch-22”, in that there’s a bunch of talk about airplanes. What stood out most to me, though, was the fact that every other inmate Doug mentions also talked about the missing Delta flight. Every single person in there either heard voices of the passengers, or had theories about what happened or were, in the case of NTSB agents, just open to find survivors of a missing plane. Doug railed against the collusion between the warden and the sheriff to imprison people simply because they knew something, anything, about flight 18713. “This is the last thing,” Doug wrote the day he escaped. “This nefarious conspiracy runs deep. Deeper than we can imagine. There are innocent people on a missing plane, and our government wants to destroy us for seeking the truth. Oh well. In other news, they fixed the TV in the rec room so I’m hoping to finally watch ‘Cheer’ on Netflix. Everyone says it’s super good.” Doug makes a compelling claim here, but he is wrong. About the conspiracy thing, not about “Cheer”, that show is super good.

So. Back in 2015, my devoted husband and devoted scientist Carlos, was heading a research project into a desert otherworld, a place very similar to our own. We spent almost a year apart while Carlos was in this alternate dimension performing experiments and drawing charts and pouring bubbling liquids back and forth between flasks. It was hard. We had only been dating a year when he left, but we kept in touch talking almost every day, sending each other text messages at night, like a kissy face emoji with a big red heart emoji. Or sometimes we sent racier messages, like [naughty voice] the safety goggles emoji with the police siren emoji and the first place ribbon emoji. Oh, sorry if that’s a little too graphic.

Anyway. Carlos made friends during his many months out of town, and so when he finally decided to return to Night Vale, some of those he met followed him. They came through a portal Carlos discovered in the Desert Otherworld: a one-sided door. It was difficult to find in a never-ending sandscape, but it is still there. And as Carlos said, once you know the way, you never forget it.

One of the people who came with Carlos through the portal in 2015 was Charles Rainier of Becket, Massachusetts. It was not easy for most of these new arrivals to find comfort or employment in Night Vale, but in just a few months, Charles had become friends with our new Sheriff and secured himself a job at the Night Vale Asylum. Few people looked deeply at the asylum, nor at Charles Rainier’s quick appointment as warden. Few people, in fact, looked closely at anything to do with mental disorders. It it almost as if we prefer not to see the mental illness at all. It is almost exactly like that. Well below the radar of public attention, Charles settled into his new position. And because there are no accounts of what went on in the asylum, and thus no stories of failure, it was inferred that he did a good job. But Carlos discovered something this week. In reading Doug Biondi’s journal, Doug makes passing mention of warden Rainier cautioning his inmates against listening to the voice of the pilot. The warden warns them that the pilot can control other beings with his mind. It is odd that the head of a mental health institution would patronize his patients with their own inner demons. Carlos at first thought the warden was manipulating the mental stability of his charges to stir up their fear and confusion in order to keep them there. We don’t know if the warden profited from retaining inmates or if he just felt an evil thrill from playing these games. But in Doug’s notes, the warden apparently said: “It is possible to escape the allure of the pilot. The power of his voice. Some have, but it is rare. And it is dangerous that you can hear him at all.”

Carlos remembered when he first met Charles Rainier, five years ago in the Desert Otherworld. Charles was so enthralled with Carlos’ stories of Night Vale. Charles Rainier could not wait to see this fantastic town and more importantly, to leave the terrible place in which he lived. He told Carlos that he escaped some – frightening people there. Charles Rainier said he had live in a commune for a couple of years. It began OK, they foraged and hunted their food, they helped each other and shared shelter inside the fuselage of an old plane. Everything was fine. They were alive, but soon the group became cult-like and aggressive, fashioning weapons and manufacturing enemies. The constant threat of violence toward other, towards themselves, shackled Charles’s every move. But he could not leave. Every time he tried, he heard a voice that called him back. So he trained himself to block out the voices. It took him weeks of determined practice, but finally he broke free. Carlos said to me: “Cecil, sweetie, my hypothesis is Charles Rainier was flying home from Detroit to Albany on June 15, 2012.” And I said: “What are you saying, honey-pop?” And Carlos said: “Babe, his plane blipped out of the sky and into the Desert Otherworld.” And I said: “Are you saying, kitty-cake, that Charles ws a passenger on Delta 18713?” But then Carlos aid: “You know, little piggy-pie, all this work talk is exhausting. Let’s have a glass of wine, sit out on the deck, and enjoy the nice weather.

[“Breathe” by Tanja Daub http://tanjadaub.bandcamp.com]

Listeners. I called Charlies Reinier, and I told him what Carlos and I talked about, and he confirmed what we discovered. He was indeed a passenger on 18713. They landed roughly but safely in the Desert Otherworld in June 2012. They ate their few food items and drank their water stores in two days. And soon they began spreading out to find civilization. But the desert was vast and seemingly uninhabited. They were too afraid to venture far from the plane, the only symbol of recognizable society. The pilot lead expeditions to find plant life and sources of water. He exuded calmness and clarity, and the passengers followed his example, occasionally finding peace in this unpleasant and frightening desert. Within a few months, they had developed a rhythm. They were finding food to eat, water to drink, the pilot seemed to know exactly where to hunt, exactly what to say, exactly how to behave.

Every passenger fell in line. They all had jobs to do, roles to fill, in this little commune. The fuselage kept them sheltered from the searing white days and the icy black nights. Sometimes they sang together, walked together, taught each other how to sew, how to cook, how to make tools. The passengers’ fear became comradery, which became unity, which became family. Which eventually became religiosity.

One day they were making salves from cacti, and the next they were crafting weapons. Charles hadn’t realized it at first, but every person on that plane could communicate telepathically. They could speak without talking – no, without learning. They were becoming a single organism separated into dozens of bodies. The loudest voice in their heads was the pilot. They had grown too complacent, and the pilot began to fill them once again with fear, fear of outsiders, of the rest of the world. They began to make barbaric expeditions hoping to find people or things to destroy. “I tried to escape,” Charles said to me. “I tried to escape over and over, but the voice was too strong. It was only when I thought about a little fishing hole down near Stockbridge that I would go to in summers by myself, to get away, to be alone.” Charles said he began to pantomime fishing, casting his imaginary lure on an imaginary line into and imaginary pond on hot desert sand. And when he did this, the voices quieted in his mind. He could free himself from the pilot’s voice, from the pilot’s control. I asked Charles why he and Sheriff Sam were locking away people just for knowing about the plane. He said: “Cecil, I locked up Doug Biondi before anyone else. He’s from that Otherworld, and he knows how to get back, and if he knows how to get back, he’ll join the 18713 and lead them into Night Vale.” Charles said he was protecting our little town from the threat of the passengers of Delta flight 18713. “If the pilot enlists Doug and gets into Night Vale, he’ll recruit who he can and destroy the rest.” “But why odes he communicate only through Doug? I-I mean why not Carlos or, or Dana Cardinal or Sheriff Sam themself? Why not recruit everyone who knows the way into Night Vale?” “I don’t know, Cecil,” Charles snapped back. “But I don’t will into existence by yapping about it either, so drop it!”

Listeners, Doug Biondi is about six foot tall. With an unsettlingly… long smile and dark nightmarish eyes. If you see him, contact the Sheriff’s office immediately. If you do not see Doug Biondi, then close your windows, hold your family close, and repeat a mantra that will clear your head of all outside thoughts.

Stay tuned next for a meditative oummmm. A single oummmmmm. For one full hour, uninterrupted by breath and commercial free.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

23:07 time traveler 30:32 pottery class

[otome-addicts-notsoanonymous]

This is the entry for @suzunokoi for the fanfic giveaway! Remember, you must COMMENT on this post to vote! Voting rules and the master post can be found under #fanficgiveawaymaster or here. Other submissions can also be found under #fanficsubmissions.

First Love and the Promise of the Future Chapter 1 (SITSC Fanfic)

Chapter 1

Meeting You Again

The Point of View and Reminisce of Mirai Kageyama

            It was a hot nearly midsummer day in May when I first met her. My first and only love whom I have never forgotten since the day we met. Even now, I still think back to that day.

            She was a beauty that crossed right into my path on day. I had been lying down on the grass, and I was looking up at the sky. Back then, I was bored out of my mind like some teenage kid who had nothing else to do than stare at something in front of him. In fact, I was in my teens during that time, and I was 16 years old, in my second year of high school.

            I sighed. “What am I even doing? All I do during my free time is lie down on the grass and look at the sky all day at the same place.”

            There was no one around as I said these words aloud. At least, that was what I thought until I heard something near me.

            “Stupid Mana… She’s always telling me that she’s better than I am.” It was a girl’s voice. “Just because she’s the strongest hero at school, doesn’t mean that she should try to prove her strength against me when I’m around her. Geez.”

            It sounded as though the girl was venting her anger out on someone.

            Is she talking about her rival or something? I thought.

            I wasn’t really interested or anything. I wasn’t even looking at my surroundings, either, so I didn’t even know what she looked like, or what she was doing. That was, until…

            “Ahh!”

            I heard a scream when something had hit my legs in front. There was some pain around my ankles, but it wasn’t as upsetting as the discomfort around my upper thighs. That was when I looked up and saw a girl with shoulder length hair that was a very dark shade of pink, like a dark cerise color, or a dark magenta color. Perhaps it was more like a darker shade of Mexican pink. Whatever the shade was, it was definitely very—and I mean very—dark for a pink color. She also had sapphire blue eyes and she wore a school uniform on like me, but was from a different school. There was also a white ribbon tied around the left side of her hair and had a surprised (or should I say a more intrigued expression) on her face as she stared at me. I stared right back with a similar look of my own.

            “…” She kept staring into my eyes with that same expression on her face before asking a question from me. “Why are you laying down like that?”

            I looked right back at her, stilled speechless from the fact that she fell right on top of me. “…”

            Then, she smiled. “Never mind that. Anyway, I’m Kirie Kuroki. I’m a second-year student at Souseizouma Academy. What’s your name?”

            “My name is Mirai Kageyama,” I answered. “I’m a first-year student at Kazenori Academy (風典学園 Kazenori Gakuen).”

            “By the way,” she added, “you can call me Kirie. There’s no need for any formalities, so you don’t have to say my name with an honorific attached to it.”  She backed away and stood up confidently, and held out her right hand. “Here. Let me help you up.”

            I took her hand and she pulled me up without and problem. “That’s a pretty strong grip you’ve got there, Kirie,” I said, moving my fingers back and forth as I looked at my hand. I was amazed by how she easily got me onto my feet in an instant. It was almost as if our roles as a guy and girl were reversed because of her masculinity. But, I had to say, she was really pretty. She had the figure of a normal girl. Although, she seemed more tomboyish in my eyes.

            There again was another smile from her. “Thanks, Mirai.” Within a split second, she blinked as though an idea suddenly came to mind. “I know! Why don’t we make a promise?”

            “A promise?” I tilted my head to the side, slightly puzzled by her notion.

            She nodded with her eyes closed and opened them shortly afterward to look at me. “Yeah. A promise to meet again and become lovers.”

            “Huh?!” My eyes widened, and I was taken aback by those words.

            “You don’t want to?” she asked.

            I soon found myself blushing as I stared into her blue eyes. The moment I first saw her when she was on top of me, I had fallen in love with her. I just didn’t realize what my speechlessness was until now.

            I shook my head rapidly. “No. It’s not that I don’t want to. I mean, I really do want to see you again, Kirie. So…”

            Kirie smiled softly at me. “Then… Let’s make a promise. If by any chance that we do see each other again, Mirai, we’ll officially become lovers.”

            I nodded nervously. “Yeah.”

            “Then, get ready for this.”

            I had no time to reply when all of a sudden, Kirie swiftly came forward and kissed me on the lips. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, but then, I quickly accepted it and returned her kiss, sealing our promise in hopes of meeting her again one day.

Three years have passed since then. I’m now an undergraduate at Rentomi College (練福大学 Rentomi Daigaku). Since I’m in my second year here, I’ll be able to graduate by next spring when I turn 20. It’s mainly due to the fact that I’ve been putting in more time and effort in taking several classes. However, I still can’t believe that I’ll graduate on my own birthday. It just never really striked me as a very logical thing to do as a young adult.

            I gave a sigh and glanced at the sky, moving my head slightly. “I wonder how Kirie’s been keeping up this whole time. I really want to see her again.”

End of Mirai’s Point of View

At the same time in an editorial office

            A young woman with dark magenta hair pinned up behind her head was handing in a large stack of papers to someone; she had blue eyes and wore a pair of rounded glasses that had silver frames.

            “Here you go, Takuji,” she said with a refreshing smile. “You can get this all done before lunch, right?”

            A young man with mint-colored hair and periwinkle eyes grinned eagerly. “You can count on me, Kirie. I’m your boss, after all. I can handle any amount of work someone gives me.”

            “As expected of the magician in our company,” Kirie praised. The look on her face was more of a teasing one, though, despite her compliment. “Unlike you, I’m human, but I have some powers of my own.”

            Takuji closed his eyes and smiled, letting out a child-like laugh. “Ehe. Well, you did go to Souseizouma, after all. But that school was basically a co-built place in order make things peaceful again, joining both Sousei Academy and Zouma Academy into one. I guess it didn’t really work out since your principals didn’t even like each other very much. Plus, it’s been sixty-three years since the grand opening. Anyway,” he looked at the stack of papers on his desk and started writing on each and every one of them with a black ink pen at a very quick pace. “We’ll be going to work at the casino tonight in order to interview the greatest celebrities ever. I guarantee that it’ll be great for our company. Asuka will love it, too.”

            “Hai, hai,” Kirie abided. She knew her boss’s mind and personality like any other friend or employee at Rapunzel, a sister branch of Cinderella’s in Roppongi. It was only a matter of time before he would finish, which was a good thing for everyone since they trusted him and had a deep respect for the colorful magician.

~

            Later that day, around 3:30 p.m., Mirai and Noel were walking towards the hotel they usually hung out at with some of their other friends. They were about to cross the street up ahead. Soon, the light turned green and they made their way through. Once they were in the middle of the street, someone bumped into them. Or rather, someone bumped into Mirai.

            “Oh, I’m sorry!” the young woman who had made her way into the college student’s path apologized. It was Kirie. She bowed politely with her eyes closed before opening them again to look at the two in front of her. “I didn’t see you there earlier. I hope you didn’t get hurt. If so, then I apologize again for any injuries that I may have caused to you.”

            Mirai shook his head with a light smile of his own. “No, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me or anything, so there’s no need for you to apologize for anything. But thank you for your courtesy.”

            “Is that so?” Kirie smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Anyway, I’ll be going this way. I have a meeting right now, so… Anyway, it was nice to meet you.” She smiled cheerfully and strolled back to Rapunzel.

            Mirai kept smiling. As he started walking again, a lightning bolt came across his mind as if he realized something. He looked back in a somewhat shocked and stunned state. Noel looked back.

            “What’s wrong, Mirai?” the tall blond asked. He felt a bit of concern for the younger male.

            Mirai kept looking in the direction Kirie had sauntered. “It’s just… I felt like I met her before somewhere a moment ago, but I don’t know when and where I did. It feels too familiar like a strange sense of nostalgia that leaves a tingling feeling in the one’s entire mind and body.” That was exactly how the college student felt when he stared in the same direction.

            Noel put his hand around Mirai’s arm. “Come on. We’re in the way of a car, Mirai.”

            Mirai nodded and walked with Noel to the location they were headed before. “Yeah.”

~

            Around seven o’clock that night, many of the employees from Rapunzel and Cinderella were all gathered inside the hotel run by Satsuki Kitaoji. There were also journalists and editors from other departments as well, who were all wearing business casual clothing to formal clothing. They had all been invited by the owner himself, and were making their way in to the building.

            Takuji and Kirie were also a couple of the guests there. There was another young woman with them with long white hair and blue eyes that seemed to have a shine to them. She was around Takuji’s age, being a few months younger than him, and was a year older than Kirie.

            “I can feel it!” Takuji exclaimed. He wasn’t loud enough to catch the other guests’ attention, though, and had a pretty tolerant sense of “excitement” for the situation. “There’s definitely a large scale of us getting more than half the scoops here.” He went on, bragging about Rapunzel in a calm tone of voice. “Our company’s had the most success and profit in all of Roppongi. In addition to that, we’re also the oldest editorial department to have been built over a hundred sixty years ago, so it doesn’t matter that the others outside our company are here; we’ll be making the most of this night at all costs.”

            Then, a voice was heard behind the mint-haired young man.

            “Oh? I don’t think so.” It was the chief editor of Cinderella making his way with one of his employees to the scene. Next to him was a young woman who was in her early twenties, but a few years older than Takuji, Asuka, and Kirie. The chief editor glanced at his the woman and introduced her to the small group of three. “Anyway, this is my new employee. She joined this morning at Cinderella and her first assignment will be to interview one of the many celebrities in the casino. Still, I see you haven’t changed since you started working at Rapunzel, Tamoto.”

            Takuji bursted into a fit. “Don’t mess with me! My team and I will pummel you out of business! Also, I told you not to call me that, Jinnai!” His expression was comical enough that anyone who saw the mint-haired young man would more than likely compare him to a growling bear.

            And that someone did.

            Oh! the young woman standing next to the chief editor from Cinderella thought. That’s cute. He looks like an angry bear from the woods.

She was blushing at the sight of Rapunzel’s current CEO while the other two women were looking at the mint-haired young man. The white-haired one smiled at the sight of the two men; Kirie, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes in slight irritation. It seemed that Takuji’s venting state was more of an eyesore for her to see than for the other guests who were watching.

            “I’m sorry for the trouble my boss has caused for yours,” the woman working for Cinderella apologized. She bowed, showing her condolences towards the matter.

            “You don’t have to apologize,” Kirie responded casually. She threw her right arm out and frowned to display her disdain. “Takuji’s always like that. He and Atsushi over there are basically the comic relief for this party. It kind of takes me back to when I was in high school and college, though. In fact, I was a lot like Takuji a few years ago.”

            The woman’s eyes widened. “Really? If I may ask, how old are you?”

            “I’m twenty years old,” Kirie replied with a strained smiled. “I graduated college early to get a job at Rapunzel after I met Takuji and Asuka since they basically recruited me. Anyway, I’m Kirie Kuroki. What’s your name?”

            The woman smiled back. “I’m Ayame Irodori. I’m twenty-four years old. You’re really young to have graduated college at that age, Kirie. I’m very amazed by your accomplishment. You must have been top of your class, too.”

            “Not really,” Kirie dismissed. “I just kept working towards a high grade for the career. That’s about all I really did.”

            “Either way, that’s still something others would be proud of,” Ayame praised. “I was a scholarship student during both my high school and college days, but I graduated a few weeks before my last year of college ended. It was tough every now and then, but I’m glad I made it through.”

            “I think that’s more of an achievement than what I’ve done,” Kirie stated. “You’ve gone through more than I have and you’ve managed to pull through all of it.”

            Asuka, the white-haired young woman, smiled pleasantly. “Maybe this is actually a way of hard work paying off since you’ve gotten a wonderful career such as this, Ayame-san. It’s a perfect opportunity to start off an interview with one of the main celebrities gathered here tonight. Do your best!”

            Ayame nodded. “Thank you, um…”

            “By the way, this is Asuka,” Kirie introduced. “She’s Takuji’s fiancée/bride. The party’s actually the wedding celebration for them. Everyone who’s been invited received a single company wedding invitation.”

            Ayame’s eyes widened at the sudden news. “Really?! I didn’t expect this to be a party for a wedding ceremony.”

            Kirie nodded. “Yeah. Guess Atsushi—that idiot with the small shaven goatee—didn’t tell you anything but to come here in a fancy dress and a pair of shoes, huh? He always does that to new female employees.”

            “Maa, maa, Kirie,” Asuka smiled once more. “It’s not nice to say that about others, even if they have facial hair.”

            Kirie’s eyes lowered themselves. “But you just said a rude thing yourself, Asuka.”

            “That shouldn’t matter right now,” Asuka said with a disapproving frown. She turned towards Ayame and introduced herself. “By the way, my name is Asuka Suzushiro, and the man you see with your boss is my soon-to-be husband, Takuji Uramoto.” Not only had she introduced herself; she had introduced Takuji. “Takuji’s going to be interviewing the owner of the casino later on after we get married.”

            Kirie smiled slyly. “Asuka’s going to be interviewing Chihaya.”

            “Chihaya?” Ayame tilted her head to her left. “You mean, Chihaya Koda?”

            Kirie nodded again. “That’s right. You know, since his skills have benefited those in need, Asuka feels a strong connection to what he does. She’s also teacher and kids like her for genuinely wanting to help them whenever they’re stuck on a problem. She and Takuji both work, so it keeps their lives busy most of the time. This is one of the few times they get to spend time together, even though it’s mainly for work. It’s kind of tiring sometimes having to see Asuka double as both a teacher and a journalist/interviewer, really. I have to be on the lookout for her, especially if she overworks herself and collapses from fatigue and exhaustion.”

            “Wow,” Ayame breathed. She placed her closed hand near the side of her chin in thought. “That must be hard, having two jobs and trying to manage your work and love life at the same time. The most horrifying thing I think that could happen while doing that is ending up in a hospital, and trying to recover from everything. I don’t know if I could ever try working two jobs, though. If I were in a relationship, I think it might affect it to the point where it’ll sever completely, and I might never be able to see the guy I’m dating again.”

            Kirie smiled. “At least you’re not an idiot like Asuka is. She’s too much of a hard worker to think about her body’s limits.”

            “Kirie-chan!” Asuka angrily scolded. “I can take care of myself without getting sick. If I did collapse, it would cause trouble for Takuji. I don’t want to worry him and make him miss work just to take care of me.”

            Kirie shook her head in dissatisfaction and looked at Ayame. “See? That’s even more selfish of you to say so.”

            Takuji turned around and agreed, taking hold of both of Asuka’s hands with his own. “That’s right, Asuka! I don’t want you to cut me out of your life like that!” He gazed into his soon-to-be wife’s eyes with a staid and passionate expression. “We’re going to be married tonight, so we have to find time for each other no matter what. Isn’t that what being in a relationship is about? Supporting and taking care of the person you love is important when you’re together with them, isn’t it? Love is not one-sided if you have someone that you’re with, so you can’t let go of the person you love.”

            Asuka’s eyes widened as she gazed right back into Takuji’s periwinkle eyes. “Takuji…” Then, she smiled softly and nodded. “Of course. I want to be with you forever, too. Thank you…”

            Seeing the two of them stare at each other for what felt like centuries, Kirie sighed while shaking her head once more. “What a stupid couple…”

~

            Several minutes later, Kirie, Takuji, Asuka, Ayame, and Atsushi were in the casino. Many of the guests were already set on gambling, while others walked around every now and them to try everything they could find. It was an incredible sight to behold, and it was nice.

            Takuji, however, sighed in exasperation. “Is this really where our wedding will be? I thought everyone would celebrate out on the top of the roof or something. There’s a pool up there, so why not just go to the highest place here?”

            Asuka smiled at the mint-haired young man. “It can’t be helped right now. We’ll just have to be patient until Satsuki-san tells us. He told us there was something important he wanted to say beforehand, remember?”

            “I know,” Takuji answered. His irritation soon showed on his face. “But if he dares to make a fool out of this, I’ll have him know his place in this world.”

            Ayame looked at the couple and frowned. “I feel bad for Takuji. He must have really wanted to have a grander celebration than this.”

            “Yes, but this is just the beginning,” Atsushi noted. He couldn’t help but keep his broad grin on his face as he continued. “He’s usually like that when he doesn’t get his way at big parties like this one. He’s known for being a guy who likes to party. Asuka and Kirie have attended occasions with him, along with the other workers from Rapunzel whenever they were invited to one. Takuji’s always been the one to treat everyone, though. Oh, and let me just tell you this. You’ll need to know it if you ever meet anyone else like him and Asuka.” He looked at the brunette with a serious expression and said, “Take heed of the wealth they have. Magicians are the wealthiest beings to have ever lived in this universe, and are practically paid every day in their world. Unlike the economies of some countries here on Earth, their economy is much more successful. In fact, it flourishes without having any reason. It’s also like getting paid without having to work but they actually have people who work because—“

            “—that’s the way the world runs?” Ayame finished. “I’ve heard many people say things that end with those words before you hired me, Boss. It just keeps getting older and older every time I hear someone say that the world runs that way.”

            The editor-in-chief was a little taken aback. “Err… I guess you already knew about this stuff, huh, Irodori?”

            “Doesn’t everyone know about magicians by now?” the brunette lowered her eyes, somewhat irritated by the well-known facts. She knew by the fact that magicians like Takuji and Asuka rarely had natural physical features and all of their kind had pale white skin that was beautiful on the outside. “We’re in the twenty-first century, Jinnai-san. The least you can do is try to keep up with your employees. I’m not as old as you, and I’m not someone who looks that way, either. So, in all pretenses, I don’t want to be on the same level as you.”

            Atsushi’s mouth dropped when he realized the truth. Indeed, he was nearing the age of what the youngsters called an “old man” since he was nearing his mid-twenties. But hearing something like that was the most critical hit he had ever taken in his life. It was as if an arrow had struck right through his heart, piercing it in the center.

            “…!” He had a pained look on his face as he stared at the floor. “You got me there, in my most important organ… Irodori.”

            Ayame sighed at the pathetic sight of her current employer. “Geez… Get a grip, will you?”

            Meanwhile, Kirie was playing pool with a few of her co-workers from Rapunzel. Everyone who was playing and/or observing the match were enjoying themselves, throwing in laughs and a round of applause every now and then.

            “Go for it, Kirie!” one of the onlookers shouted encouragingly. It was a woman who had been employed around the same time Takuji had started working at Rapunzel.

            Kirie made a shot and the ball she hit with the cue ball went into one of the holes. As the game kept going, there were more cheers than anywhere else in the room. This, of course, attracted the attention of a familiar college student. He turned his gaze towards the Rapunzel employees who were playing and watching the players make their moves. Needless to say, the first person to catch his eye was Kirie herself. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and kept staring at the dark magenta-haired girl as lingering feelings floated all around him.

            Shortly afterwards, Satsuki Kitaoji began his speech.

            “Attention, everyone,” he said. All eyes were now on the casino owner and each and every person excluding Satsuki himself was listening. “As you all may know, today is a very special day, which is why I have opened the Urban Casino and Resort Roppongi today for those who wish to enter and enjoy themselves here. Tonight, in particular, marks a very special night for my friend, Takuji Uramoto, and his bride, Asuka Suzushiro. In order to celebrate their wedding, I have arranged for it to be held on the rooftop of the hotel and casino. Everyone is invited to come as you are all guests here. I apologize for not making this announcement sooner, but we will now be moving to the roof for the wedding ceremony.”

            Takuji’s sour expression brightened and he was back to his jubilant old self in no time. He started jumping, which sounded as if he was making bouncing effects, going “boing” everywhere with his arms held high for everyone to see. Satsuki, in particular, glanced to the right corner of his vision, and smiled amusingly. He was content to see the young CEO of Rapunzel back in high spirits, letting out a lighthearted chuckle. On the inside, he felt as though he was going to burst into a fit of laugher at any moment. Asuka, on the other hand, smiled happily at the sight of her fiancé/groom. It was very uplifting to all of the guests gathered in the casino; Takuji of all people could not contain his happiness and kept jumping for a while before he stopped. Most of the guests had let out a laugh or two at the scene and were enjoying themselves not nearly as much as the mint-haired magician.

            After that, they all made their way up to the roof, which had a large pool, and the wedding began. Takuji and Asuka exchanged rings and a few words right before putting their partner’s designated wedding ring on each other’s left ring fingers. Everyone smiled and clapped once Takuji’s ring was on his, and they all partied for a while before almost all of the interviewers, journalists, and reporters were gone, leaving Kirie, Takuji, Asuka, and Ayame to go to the VIP room, stay in the hotel, or go home.

            “Thanks, Satsuki,” Takuji smiled at older man. He was still bubbling with bliss on the inside as he and Asuka walked together with Satsuki. “Nothing could make a man happier than to finally marry the love of his life. And it’s all thanks to you, my friend.”

            Asuka smiled along with them. “Indeed. It was really fun to have everyone with us. Thank you, Satsuki-san.”

            “It was my pleasure to hold the ceremony here as part of the grand opening,” Satsuki responded courtly. He was glad to see the two of them have a good time. “You two have helped me throughout many difficult situations, so it was the least I could do. Why don’t you come with me to the V.I.P. room? I also invited Kirie earlier and she said she’ll stop by later. Yuzuki and the others will also be there, so we can all hang out leisurely.”

            “That’s a great idea,” Takuji grinned excitedly. “We can’t just let the fun go by. The night’s still here, so we have to enjoy ourselves while we still can!”

            Asuka nodded. “It’ll also be a good time for our interviews, so we’ll have plenty of it left afterwards.”

            “Alright!” Takuji held out both his arms in front of him with closed hands. “We’ll get everything done and have lots of fun talking with each other. It’ll be the best thing we’ll do in Roppongi!”

            Satsuki smiled agreeably. “Of course. I’m looking forward to answering your questions and spending time with you, Takuji. It’s been some time since we last had a chat together with everyone else, so I’m also looking forward to it.”

            Soon, the three of them made their way to the VIP room Satsuki had mentioned not too long ago and kept conversing with one another along the way, enjoying the time they had together.

~

            Kirie slowly opened the door to the V.I.P. room and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

            “Excuse me,” she said. She took a look around and saw a group of four other men with Satsuki, Takuji, and Asuka, in the room. She glanced up at Satsuki and asked, “Um… Yuzuki’s going to stay with her for a while, so I thought I should let you know since you’re his older brother.”

            Satsuki saw the look on Kirie’s face and smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure that Miss Ayame would at least like to know that he’s been looking after her when she wakes up.”

            “You’ve been a big help yourself,” Chihaya proclaimed, acknowledging Kirie’s assistance. “When she passed out like that, you were the one who told the other guests to prepare a room for her, and let her rest. We don’t normally see someone like you, but I guess extraordinary human women actually exist in this world.”

            “Now, aren’t you a rude one,” Ryoichi Hirose, the famous author, smirked. “True, she’s a rarity amongst almost all of the women in the world, but she’s at least got the guts to help someone out. That’s something that should be commended by others such as yourself, Chihaya. Even I have to give her some credit for it.”

            Noel nodded while still having his nonchalant expression on his face. “Women can be strong to a large extent, but it mostly depends on them. Not many are like her.”

            “I know what you all mean,” Chihaya added, “but you don’t really have to explain any further than what’s already been said. Remember, I was only stating my side of it. It’s not like I really wanted to downgrade her or anything. I was just complimenting her in my own way.”

            Satsuki frowned. “Still, that was very impolite of you to say, Chihaya. She’s a guest here, and being rude to a guest is not something that I approve of.”

            Chihaya let out a small chuckle. “I know. You’re always like this, Satsuki. But that’s one of the good things about you.”

            As the rest of the group continued to engage in a conversation of their own, Mirai could not help but stare at Kirie’s face. He knew he had seen her before, and it put him in a daze. Kirie herself soon noticed the gaze she was receiving from him and glanced at the college student. Then, she smiled in a faint but relaxed way at him.

            Satsuki caught on shortly after and frowned. “Mirai, go on and greet her. It’s not tactful if you just keep looking at one of our guests for the rest of the night without saying anything.”

            “…” Although he heard the financial prince’s words, he could not react to them the way he usually did. In fact, he was still looking at Kirie with longing eyes.

            Satsuki glanced at Mirai once more. Then he turned his head towards Kirie with an apologetic expression. “Please forgive him, Kirie. He’s not usually like this. He’s really a good kid at heart, but…”

            Kirie shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all, Satsuki.” Then, she glanced at Mirai, still smiling at the younger man. “It���s nice to see you again. My name is Kirie Kuroki. I’m also an editor at Rapunzel, so I also work with Takuji and Asuka over there.”

            At that moment, Mirai’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The name he had just heard triggered his first memory with the dark magenta-haired young woman.

            “…!”

            Kirie? The same Kirie I met three years ago? Is it really true? Am I really seeing her again? Those thoughts swirled around in his head as stared at Kirie in realization and remembrance of his first love standing right in front of him.

[minorhoursmagazine]

Issue 12, containing: Unforeseen Errors in Home Rearrangement, Local Happenings, Letters, Commonplaces, &c.

------------------------------

SOME EDITORIAL NOTES

With the assistance of some careful time management tools (otherwise known as "a polygonal box I spent 20 minutes cutting out and coloring with highlighters"), I have found myself back on track with this issue of the magazine. It's astonishing the things you can trick your own mind into doing.

A further note: I only just realized that I missed the perfect opportunity in the previous issue to have a heading read MORE HAGIOGRAPHICAL HILARITY. This has distressed me for some minutes, but I will Persevere.

A further further note: I wrote the first paragraph earlier this week. It is now several hours past my self-imposed deadline for this newsletter. My brain has had the last laugh.

------------------------------

THE UNFORESEEN ERRORS IN HOME REARRANGEMENT

As has been reported over the last several issues, I have been rearranging my apartment. It's gone astonishingly well up to this point, and I assumed it would continue doing so, because surely if it would go wrong, it would have gone tits up much sooner than now.

My bedroom has defied this logic.

My method of rearrangement involves doing one disastrously huge and irrevocable change to a space so as to create the momentum for the rest of the necessary moves. In my kitchen, a beloved sideboard was moved for the first time since I moved in, and I was then able to immediately envision how to lay out the space anew. In my living room, I moved my couch to bisects the room rather than hug any particular wall, and in doing so I was able to sketch out the necessary next actions to complete the transformation.

In my bedroom, I thought that a massive enough change would be removing the large tapestry of a dark storm cloud that covered one wall, mimicking a window I don't have and large enough that I can see even with my glasses off. Taking down that tapestry, I thought, would free up wall space in a room that is otherwise hampered by a sloping ceiling, and also free my mind to come with the best solution for the rest of the room. It had worked before, after all. Surely this would not prove to be a mistake of colossal proportions.

I took down the tapestry. I folded it neatly. I turned, and a horror of blankness sucked all light and joy from the world.

In my mistaken belief that this was a temporary situation, I moved my dresser to the wall. The horror now had a large lump sticking from it, wart-like. Aha, I thought, I'll move the dresser sideways, like I did the couch, and create a sort of false entryway to the room, how clever I am, I can still fix this.

I moved the dresser a second time. I couldn't tell whether this was an improvement, so I stepped into the next room, walked a bit away, and then came back to assess the effect of my new bedroom entrance.

The effect, as it turns out, is that I am suddenly startled by the human-height presence of something standing just inside my doorway. And it hasn't been just once. It has happened every time I pass the room. It has been doing this for over a week.

I realize I could just move everything back to where it was. I could move the dresser. I could rehang the tapestry. But in my mind, I have already assigned the tapestry as irrevocably removed. That has been the winning move in all other rooms in my house, this ability of my brain to just decide a thing is now different forever. I had no reason to think it would betray me -- though, I mean, looking at it now I can sort of see how I maybe should have seen this coming.

However. The dresser man and his blank-walled companion will meet their match this weekend. It's taken days of thought, and more than one Pinterest search, but this time I'm pretty sure I can rearrange my bedroom successfully.

Pretty sure.

------------------------------

LOCAL HAPPENINGS

I have been informed that Mystic Seaport, reported on in an earlier issue, is having the Harvest of the Sea seafood festival this weekend.

As always, I would like someone -- anyone -- to tell me why bivalves are considered at all edible.

------------------------------

THE LAUNDRY CHAIR

[This article was deemed too boring even by the Magazine's very lax standards, and has been deleted for the betterment of the Readers and to save the pride of the Editors. -Ed.]

------------------------------

A NOTE TO GENTLE READERS

Last week the Magazine asked Gentle Readers their opinions on Autumn. Gentle Reader Virginia responded that Autumn "is entirely delightful", which is usually my own response to this season as well. This year I'm not entirely sure how we came upon the season so quickly, and therefore my own answer is something closer to "linear time is a lie."

For this week, and in honor of that which is fading out: I spend a great deal of my time mentally working out what my future garden should look like. And so I put it to you, Gentle Readers: What is your favorite flower, plant, or tree? Should it have a home in my future garden, and if so, why or why not?

------------------------------

LETTERS

From Gentle Reader Virginia, to the Magazine:

In a house of my slight acquaintance, called Buena Vista but very emphatically pronounced BYOOnah Vista, there's a tiny bedroom called "the box room" that has a tiny alcove containing a rickety old writing desk that I could sit at and my fingertips would touch if I set each elbow against the wall. The window in this alcove looks out over a steep slope at the bottom of which is a river hidden by deciduous trees, but tracking back up, one stares at a smallish mountain of pines. I don't believe anyone in the rambling family of that desk writes. I often wonder whether it's lonely.

******

From The Box Room Desk, to Gentle Reader Virginia, "A response":

First, I must thank you for your attention. It does an old heart good to know that one is remembered beyond the small instances of interaction. I remember you, too, and I hope it pleases you as much as me.

And I thank you for your question. Time moves differently for furniture. Your generations are our minutes; it takes centuries for our elders to even get a touch of silver at their temples. Imagine, then, that every season I see through my window matches with an inhale, an exhale, and inhale again, and you might then understand how I haven't the chance to get lonely. There is always someone, if not this minute, then the next. The hectic life of a kitchen range wouldn't suit me -- I'm not so extroverted. And I'd rather my steadfast middle age than the caroming excitement of mayfly fast furniture.

I like the quiet, and the brief moments of introspection I can find between my owners' visits. Best of all, I like that I have the time to contemplate the uses I have been put to -- I can revisit the work done on my surface, the books read, the words written. A couch might only be able to see and process a flicker of a television image, and a tub has only the endless weight of water, but I can spend my time tasting the memory of creation.

I count myself lucky in my placement and in my life, so eminently suited to my nature. May we all find ourselves so fortunate.

------------------------------

COMMONPLACES

From Caitlyn Siehl's What We Buried, "maybe eve was a wild thing:

tell them you don’t know how Eve felt when she saw Adam in one hand, and the rest of the fucking universe in the other.

tell them you don’t know how Eve felt when she wanted the universe.

******

From Madeline Miller's The Song of Achilles:

QUESTION: name one hero who was happy

CONSIDER: heracles. theseus. jason. bellerophon.

ANSWER: you can't (they never let you be famous and happy)

i'll tell you a secret; i'm going to be the first

******

From Terry Pratchett's Men at Arms:

The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But  an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.

This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socioeconomic unfairness.

------------------------------

ANNOUNCEMENTS

No particular announcements this week. If you should happen to feel a ripple of psychic disturbance this weekend that inexplicably screeches the word clouds!!, you may assume that the bedroom rearrangement is going... poorly.

******

If you would like to write a letter to be produced/answered in the magazine, please email me at minor.hours.magazine@gmail.com with the subject line:

Letter to the Magazine: [subject of letter as you would like to see it printed]

If you wish the letter to be anonymous or under a nom de plume, please state so in the body of the email; similarly, if you'd rather not be printed at all, please also state so in the body of the email. It will otherwise be assumed that mail sent to that address is intended for print.

Alternately, commenting on the Patreon post will get you a similar result, with much less fuss.

******

As always, you can find me at my regular website, katherinecrighton.com, or via twitter, at @c_katherine.

To support the magazine and get it delivered directly to your inbox, join the Patreon.

-Until next week, be safe.

[swankymikehanlon-blog]

The Losers: Always and Forever

7 teenagers, of different high school backgrounds, would rather die than become a breakfast club 2.0

Words: 19,390

Warnings: None really, blood mention(s)

Chapter Two: We’re Disasters (Part One)

Monday, September 25, 3:15 p.m

Richie’s hand brushed over the doorknob, fingers itching to find the lock. His jacket had been thrown somewhere as soon as he got into the janitors closet. Beverly took her wedges off, giving Richie even more inches on her. Richie’s glasses had been pushed up against his face as their lips had fused together like magnets. As Richie found the lock his left foot bumped into a broomstick causing it to fall on the ground. A loud whack followed by soft thumps of toilet paper made Beverly pull away.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Richie pressed his hands firmly to Beverly’s waist, trying to attach his lips to hers again. Beverly shook her head and pushed Richie’s hands away. Richie let out a whine as he reluctantly moved away from Bev. She let out a breath before pressing her body weight against the door. The room was illuminated by dimly lit fluorescent lights that hung in the corners.

Beverly saw the smeared red color on Richie’s plump lips and she took a moment to touch her own. She knew the lipstick was most likely to have smeared all over her mouth as well. Richie’s foot tapped on the marble floor and Beverly’s toes touched the heel of her thrown wedges. 

“Richie, this whole thing has gone on too long. We have to stop.” Beverly bent down to put her wedges on. Richie gave a confused expression and put his hands in the back of his pockets, touching the cigarette box that slept in his left pocket.

“Well Bev, you said that last time and look where we’re at.” Richie snapped, though on accident. He saw the slight pause in Beverly’s posture as she finished putting her wedges on.

“This time I mean it Rich.” Beverly stood up and looked at Richie with a stern face. Richie hated every time someone would look at him with a face like that. He basically hated every look that was thrown his way. 

“Bev-”

“No Richie, please. This isn’t...healthy.” Beverly bit the corner of her lip, avoiding the heartbreaking stare that Richie projected. Richie felt his demeanor of ‘not caring’ slip. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Richie tried not to let his pitch get higher than it was going. His voice tended to get a higher pitch when he lied.

“All good things must come to an end.” Richie smiled, lips mashing together in a tight lipped mask of happiness. He motioned for Beverly to move away from the door so he can exit. As he began to walk away, Beverly’s hand shot up and held onto his elbow. Richie stopped, feet twitching to run away. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, making sure to hide his face from a concerned Beverly.

“The end of an era.” Richie clasped a hand over Beverly’s, gently pushing it away. Unlocking the door, he walked out, feet dragging on the floor and Adam’s apple bopping to a sudden change of emotion. Beverly stood there and watched as Richie rounded the corner and left her there, lipstick smeared and a guilt filled heart.

Monday, September 25, 3:42 p.m

Stan played with the sleeves of his sweater as the projector played a war documentary. The window blinds had been rolled down, but the sun still managed to sneek in rays of light and heat. He felt the perspiration develop on his cupids bow and his eyebrow due to the thickness of his sweater and contemplated using a bathroom pass just to get a breath of fresh air.

The documentary wasn’t interesting in the slightest, apparently, since no one in the class paid attention. The work sheets they were supposed to be filling out were blank, doodles in any available space showed their attention span. He wiped the sweat of his eye brow before opening his binder and taking a blue pass out. Walking to Mrs. Em desk, she grabbed the paper and signed it, dismissing him. 

Stan ducked under the projector and made his way to the door. Opening the door was like opening a cold bottle of Coca-Cola. The fresh air of the hallway alleviated all and any heat Stan had felt, moments prior. The tiny holes in Stan’s sweater felt the fresh air and he felt relieved. Entering the vacant hallway, Stan rolled up his sleeves and temporarily cuffed them.

Monday, September 25, 3:44 p.m

Bill stood in the bathroom, hands braced against the white marble sink as his tired eyes looked at the facial reflection that made up his appearance. No one had been in the bathroom for a whole ten minutes and he was grateful. The only sound in the entire bathroom was the drip-drop of water from a loose faucet. 

His hands had been shaking in his math class, anxiety coursing every where in his body at the thought of answering a question aloud. His stutter prevailed through his speech when he asked to go to the bathroom, students chuckling at his struggle.

Bill hated it when he had to talk in front of the whole class, especially his rude math class that never seemed to give him a break. Bill felt the sting of emotion in his throat as he thought about what happened in Math. Countless times had he been bullied for his speech, and countless times Bill had almost gotten into fights because of it.

 As he sniffled the door creaked open and appeared a tall boy with a mess of curls and a grey sweater. Bill quickly looked away, eyes widening at the intrusion.

Stan was surprised to see someone standing there after he opened the door with little care. He watched the boy wipe his face violently and turn away. Stan awkwardly stood there, hand still gently clasped around the door handle. 

Bill gently huffed as he stood, hip touching the sink. He felt the other boys presence still at the door, second sound in the bathroom being his own rapid heartbeat. Stan let go of the door and stood closer to Bill, noticing the heaving of his shoulders. Stan wasn’t one for socializing, but he found himself talking before he could stop.

“Uh, are you okay?” Stan’s voice had wavered through the air to Bill’s ears. Bill didn’t respond as he felt the rush of his heartbeat cancel everything out. He nodded his head swiftly before turning around, brushing Stan’s shoulder as he walked out.

Stan felt his sweater move slightly as the boy left without a word. He felt almost winded at the small interaction. He stood in a dazed state and suddenly smelt something nice. 

Vanilla.

Monday, September 25, 3:53 p.m

Ben sat in the library, all alone as he played the game which he had gotten surprisingly good at in under a week. The librarian was sleeping, and the clock was ticking agonizingly slow. Ben had texted his parents earlier that he had been given detention, specifics not given. The only text he received was a mad emoji face from his mother and a thumbs down emoji from his father.

Since when did they use emojis. Ben had laughed at the response, sighing in relief when he wasn’t texted a long paragraph about being a better student. He had fourth period off, so being a teenager who’s lifeline is technology based engaging in gaming was pretty obvious. 

He had been on level 27 of some new game he found, graphics pretty great for an old fashion Microsoft, when without warning, Beverly Marsh walked through the library doors. Ben almost fell out of his chair. She hadn’t seen him as she made her way to the drop-off box. He cowered out of his chair as he hid behind it and watched Beverly insert a small book into the box. 

Beverly still hadn’t noticed him, even when she looked his way. Ben sighed as she walked out and sat back into his chair. Looking back to the librarian, finding her still asleep, he made his way to the boy and reached in. Her book had been the only book turned in. A poetry book. 

She reads poetry. Ben stared at the cover, a flower, a lone flower, a red flower, in the middle of white flowers. Ben smiled and he suddenly liked poetry too.

Monday, September 25, 4:10 p.m

Mike’s index finger pressed down on the apple mouse, clicking a political editorial on Derry’s mayor. Mrs. Henderson, the journalism teacher, talked loudly with her favorite student, some girl who had been taking journalism since her freshmen year. The lights had been turned off, the only source light was from the projector that played CNN daily news. Mike winced as he brushed his hand on the ledge of the desk, knuckles evidently bruised from the events that happened at lunch.

He looked at his hands, one more purple than the other and noticed the yellow undertones. Examining them he didn’t see a boy who sat at the corner of the room, day dream into oblivion. 

Richie had his headphones in, computer hadn’t even been touched, as his hand became a stand for his chin. His music wasn’t too loud, but his thoughts were. Provocative, sad, and plain out messed up thoughts trolled Richie’s head as the song switched to another.

He hadn’t taken notice of the incessant tapping of his boot clad foot as Mike Hanlon looked at him with annoyance. He also hadn’t taken notice that Mike Hanlon was staring at him to begin with. It was only when someone tapped his shoulder that he stopped tapping and Mike quickly turned around. The girl was polite, asking him to stop, before continuing to write her story. Richie did indeed stop, but he was suddenly aware of his surroundings. Surroundings being a dark corner and emotions.

Mike heard the tapping stop, relief flowing through him like a clam river. He scrolled down the editorial, pasting and copying key information onto his story notes. His hand had began to feel almost numb as he finished clicking. He looked to the clock that hung over the door-

3 minutes until dismissal

And then Mike Hanlon would be free. Of only this class. He’d have to walk all the way across the school to Mrs, Knotts classroom, where he’d most likely be scowled for punching a student. But the thing was, Mike wasn’t even phased. He wasn’t phased at the fact that getting a detention right before a game, would affect his participation. The only thing that phased him was the fact that he felt sick. Not because he punched someone, but because he wanted to do it again.

The bell rung, loudly, startling Richie and Mike at the same time. Students around them packed and bolted before Mrs. Henderson could even say goodbye. Mike slowly packed up, dread bubbling in his stomach as the time for detention rolled around. Richie watched Mike, for no reason in particular, but he had a sudden idea in his head. As Mike walked out of the door, he felt someone’s footsteps walk with his. Turning around he saw Richie and stopped.

“Are you following me or?” Mike’s tone seemed harsh, rude in all forms. Richie seemed to not care as he smiled a wide smile. His hands had been folded behind his back, not a backpack or binder in sight. Just him and his tall frame.

“Heard you got detention.” Richie chortled as Mike walked away. Pace picking up slightly, Richie felt in toe, not really caring that he annoyed Mike. 

“What’s it to you?” Mike adjusted his backpack, hands now clutching the straps tightly. Richie watched the slight flare up and with a sly look shrugged as he continued to walk with Mike.

Monday, September 25, 4:23 p.m

Eddie sat with Bill in the front two desk on the right side of the room as they both individually graded Mrs. Knott’s second period’s tests. Eddie had a pink stapler on his desk while Bill had the blue, courtesy of Staples’ ‘whole store’ sell. Mrs. Knott organized the roll call list for the students who’d be attending her detention when Eddie accidentally dropped almost half the papers. Mrs. Knott and Bill looked at Eddie with disappointment then acceptance as he bent down to collect them. 

When Eddie bent down, the classroom door was opened by a boy, the boy Eddie remembers from lunch. He had a yellow shirt on, a cat with glasses plastered in the middle as he walked in, unsure of what to do.

“Ah hello, please sit anywhere and turn your phone in the front please.” Mrs. Knot smiled at the boy as he gently placed his phone in the black basket and found a desk on the the other side of the room, closest to the window. He seemed like a nice boy, Eddie thought as he finished collecting the papers.

“H-hey, do you hah-ha-have anym-more s-st-staples?” Bill asked Eddie as his face got red. Eddie nodded his head and gave Bill some, eyes falling over the door once more. He had been expecting the girl to show up but it was actually a boy he had never seen before. Eddie had seen the other boy before, once or twice in the halls, but this boy, the boy with curly hair and soft sweater had never crossed Eddie’s path.

Bill swallowed the spit in his throat as the bathroom boy from earlier walked into the room with a solemn look. He turned his phone in and sat in the middle front desk, twiddling his fingers. Bill forgot what he was supposed to be doing as he continued to stare at the boy. He hadn’t stopped thinking about what happened in that bathroom, how his shoulder brushed passed his sweater, how he suddenly felt a rush of heat at human contact.

Bill hadn’t noticed Beverly walked in, hands pressed firmly against her sides as she talked to Mrs. Knott.

“Beverly Marsh, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Knott was baffled to see one of her favorite students in detention. Beverly just shamefully smiled as she handed Mrs. Knott her phone and found her way to a seat behind Ben. Ben smiled, awkwardly trying to be smooth as he turned around to say ‘Hi’ but failing miserably. The only sound to come out of Ben was a small squeak and Beverly tried her hardest not to chuckle. It was when Beverly did chuckle that Bill noticed her. 

He looked at her closely, noticing the color of her once red lips had been rubbed off, the soft natural pink now dominant made Bill think. Not for long though since in walked Richie Tozier and a less than excited MIke Hanlon.

“Helllllooooo Mrs. Knott!” Richie sang as he dropped his phone, carelessly, into the black bin and high fiving Mrs. Knott. Richie had been a regular in after school detention, but Bill rarely talked to him. Eddie on the other hand, had heart eyes eyes fro miles. Maybe only from Bill’s perspective, but when Richie spoke quite proudly about all the reasons why he was in detention to begin with, Eddie had been all ears. 

Eddie smelled the scent of Richie, cigarettes and pine cones, whiff past his nose as Richie sat in the middle desk, isolated from others. Mike looked tired, the colors of his bruised knuckles seeming more vibrant under the classroom light made Eddie suck in a breath. It looked worse than before. Eddie noticed the yellow and green shading under the purple and blue and felt a small pain in his own hand. Mike sat next to Bill, second closest to Eddie and far away from Richie.

“Okay, all of us seem to be here, but let me just call roll.” Mrs. Knott stood up, clipboard held her manicured hands as she read the names slowly.

“Mike Hanlon?”

“Here.” Mike’s voice was gruff, forced sounding. Eddie watched him squeeze his hands together, hissing at the pressure that was applied.

“Ben Hanscom?”

“Here.” Ben’s voice was light, sounded almost happy and sloghtly too excited. Beverly noticed the pink tint on the boys neck and cheeks and lifted the corner of her mouth in a quirk like smile.

“Beverly Marsh?”

“Yes. Here.”

“Richie Tozier?”

“Tis’ I, who is here.” Richie  tilted his finger and head to Mrs. Knott, as a gentleman would. Mike rolled his eyes at Richie’s flamboyancy.

“Stanley Uris?”

“Here.” Bill’s ears perked up as he found out bathroom boys name. Stan noticed the way Bill’s posture get a little straighter and didn’t quite know how to feel. Mrs. Knott nodded her head and stepped behind her desk, now gathering a folder full of meeting papers. 

“Now, I expect all of you to behave, I’m going to run a couple of copies and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Eddie and Bill are in charge until I get back.” Mrs. Knott took her teacher keys and left the class in under one minute. Beverly was confused, Ben was was shocked, Stan didn’t care, Mike also didn’t care, Eddie and Bill were in the midst of an oncoming panic attack and well Richie...

“All right fuckers! Who the hell wants to party.” Richie closed the door as soon as Mrs. Knott left. Mike scoffed at Richie’s predictable behavior as Ben laughed, not realizing he was actually serious. When everyone looked at Ben with a quirked eyebrow, he realized Richie meant everything he said literally.

“Oh. Oh, no, we can’t do that Mrs. Knott just said-”

“First of all, Mrs. Knott left her detention kids alone with two goody too-shoes over here-” Richie pointed his thumb to Bill and Eddie as he sat on Mrs. Knott’s desk. Her phone bin had been raided by Richie’s needy fingers as he pulled his own out, scrolling quickly.

“Second of all, don’t be a prune, let’s have a little fun.” Richie lifted his left leg and dug into his pocket. pulling a crumbled box of cheap cigarettes. 

“Who wants one?” Richie displayed them to everyone in his palms. Mike closed his eyes, biting his cheek, desperately trying not to diffuse the idiotic situation known as Richie Tozier.

“Smoking kills you.” Eddie’s small voice had killed the silence and made Richie snort.

“Of course it fucking kills people. It’s cancer gas you inhale, Kaspy.” Richie took one and placed it in his mouth. Kaspy had been a nick name Richie had given Eddie since the first time they met. Eddie hated it. He hated it because he loved it. He’ll never admit it though.

Beverly felt a small punch of guilt stab her in the abdomen as Richie took out his lighter. Richie had never smoked more than once a day. But from the redness of his eyes, Beverly figured out he had smoked already more than two. The reason for guilt was because she ended the friends with benefits. Really that was the only time Richie could be intimate with someone, even if it was just sex. 

“Bev, something on your mind?” Richie lit the cigarette before plopping the lighter on the wooden desk. Beverly shook her head, refusing to answer him. Richie shrugged his shoulders waiting for an answer that would never come.

“Do you honestly think you’re a bad ass?”

Everything went silent. Mike had said it, loudly, arms stiff in their crossed position, legs spread out in a form that read “Fuck with me, I dare you.” 

Stan was surprised. He had never heard Mike say anything other than “Derry, Derry, RAH-RAH-RAH”. The football cheer that was echoed through the hallways at almost all times of the day.

Richie took a long drag, inhaling most of it before letting it out, humorless laugh following.

“Ya know what Hanlon.” Richie fingered the part of the smoke where his lips touched, saliva coating the top of his nail and thumb.

“Yeah, I honestly do.” Richie had a tight-lipped smile etched into his face. Eddie felt overwhelmed. Between the obvious hatred between Mike and Richie and the smoke from Richie’s cancer-stick made him feel sick. Ben just listened, fingers forming together in a personal handhold. 

“If you’re such a bad-ass, why don’t you burn your tongue with the smoke huh?” Bill’s eyes widened at the sudden turn of events. He hadn’t seen or heard of anything violent since lunch. His attention was drawn yet gain to Stan and how intrigued he was.

“I’m not that fucking crazy. But you wanna know who’s that fucking crazy?” Richie had the cigarette in between his index finger and middle finger. Ben had a feeling that something bad was going to happen the way Mike’s arm muscles twitched with every breath that was took.

“The dude, who almost beat up another dude...” Richie looked once more to Eddie before taking another inhale. After a long second he let out a breath-

“to death.” 

The smoke came out of Richie’s mouth simultaneously as his words did. Mike abruptly got up, chair whacking into the desk behind him and tried to make his way to Richie. Eddie, stupidly, stood up and grabbed Mike’s wrist in action to stop him from doing anything.

“OH THERE IT IS GUYS!” Richie flicked the bud to the floor before stepping on it. He licked his lips as he stood up and spreaded his arms to the sides.

“There’s the real Hanlon! The violent-” With every word, Richie stepped closer, Mike grew stronger, and Eddie grew weaker.

“the angry-” Bill had got up, in preparation to stop Richie from doing anything dumb.

“the fierce. Michael. William. Hanlon.” Richie’s voice got lower, almost tauntingly lower. Before anyone could react, Mike shrugged Eddie off and grabbed Richie by the collar. Beverly stood up and yelled to stop while everyone else watched in shock.

“You don’t know anything about me!” Mike looked furious. It made Richie delirious, thrilled and slightly turned on.

“Oh Mikey-Boy, don’t you get it!” Richie’s cigarette breathe burned Mike’s eyes. Richie was laughing. In his ears, it was just a laugh. But in Bill’s, in Ben’s, in Stan’s, in Beverly’s, in Eddie’s, it sounded vulgar. 

“I know everything about you.” Richie pushed Mike off, and stood face to face with Mike. Both boys refused to back down even as Mrs. Knott walked back in.

“What is going on here!” Mrs. Knott demanded as Bill and Eddie sat down, submissively. Beverly stood standing, concern for the the boys who still stood in the front, minutes away from brawling like they were gladiators. Richie’s eyes were alluring. They attracted, but they were corrupted. Behind those big glasses, Richie was a trickster. And Mike didn’t like tricksters.

“Nothin’” Mike grunted as he was the first to back down. He went back to his seat, feeling the burning eyes on him as Richie found his seat too. 

Eddie felt scared. For some reason he felt scared. Scared that Mike’s knuckles would have been split open if Mrs. Knott hadn’t come back in time. He was also scared that Richie was going to smile through the bloody mess. Like a crazy person. Eddie was scared that he might like them both. 

Stan felt unsure. He wouldn’t have done anything to help. He would have been a spectator, betting money if he could, to watch the boys battle till death. And he was unsure of how other people viewed this. He was unsure of the way he handled things. He was very unsure that someone may not love him because of this.

Ben felt sad. Sad because he thought this would be a chance to meet new people. Even if they were a band of misfits. But that hope of a friendship died when Richie took out a cigarette and publicly called out Mike. That hope died down when Mike was seconds away from slicing his knuckles on Richie’s perfect teeth.

Beverly felt guilt-ridden. She watched Richie begin the stages of recklessness, as if he wasn’t reckless before. Maybe if she hadn’t ended whatever they had, Richie wouldn’t have put himself in a dangerous position. Beverly couldn’t blame herself completely though. And because of this, Beverly felt even more guilt.

Bill felt anxious. He felt anxious because it had only been fifteen minutes of detention, when it was usually a required hour. He knew that Richie would try to press Mike’s buttons again. And he knew Mike would do something physical to react. And that combination made Bill anxious.

Richie felt merciless. He felt as if nothing, nobody can stop him from getting what he wanted. And what he wanted was to make Mike Hanlon’s life a living hell. No matter what happens, as long as Mike feels what Richie felt for three fucking years, Richie would get what he wanted. It’s what he deserved. And Richie will deliver hell to Mike’s front door step, mercilessly.

Mike felt eager. Eager to get the hell out of detention but eager to see what the fuck Richie was going to do. He had never known Richie’s true feelings towards him. But he never really cared. And maybe he was a dick for that. But he was eager to find out how he could beat Richie at his own game.

Tagged: @asteroidbill @chirpchirpstanley @finnwollfhards (I think those are that wanted to be tagged so far)

Me?? Uploading when I promised?? False. I’m like realllly fucking sorry about this late upload, school sucks so much, but I tried to make this as decent as possible. I really hope there isn’t a lot of mistakes. hmu if you want to be tagged ;))))

[kingyeoly]

Privilege: Chapter 5

Synopsis: Kyungsoo lands halfway across the world in Seoul after his mother’s death.

Cue the rich long-lost CEO father and a spot at one of the most prestigious boarding schools in The Republic of Korea.

It doesn’t take long for Kyungsoo to get mixed in with a troublesome group of elite boys.

Or,

Where Kyungsoo finds out he’s actually the Korean Cinderella.

Suho, the untouchable semi-evil stepbrother who rules the school with an iron fist.

Sehun, the adorable little (big) brother who defends Kyungsoo at all costs.

Jongin, the heir to a hotel empire and a LITERAL model (possible prince charming?)

and

Chanyeol, the best friend/volleyball star who challenges Jongin in winning over Kyungsoo’s heart.

Who will win?

Rated: R

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn, Boy X Boy, Smut, Love triangles

Pairings: D.O & Kai, D.O & Chanyeol, Sehun & Chanyeol, Suho & Lay

Chapter 4

Masterpost

Chapter 6

“Mind if I sit here?” Jongin’s voice was deep and groggy sounding.

Kyungsoo looked up to see Jongin looking exceptionally soft in pajamas and an oversized hoodie. He somehow still managed to look incredibly editorial and chic. Even despite the unflattering fluorescent lighting provided by the GS25 corner store on campus.

All in the midst of Kyungsoo basically deep throating his damn kimbap, he was so hungry.

It was 2 AM, by the way. “Why are you up?” Kyungsoo asked as he tried his hardest to swallow, shyly patting the stool next to him as he waited patiently for his instant ramen to cook.

“Could ask you the same question.”

“Mmm, I h’ve a bad h’bit of sn’cking.” He said with a mouthful.

Jongin laughed, “So I remember, no Pepero this time to satisfy that untameable sweet tooth of yours?”

Kyungsoo quickly ruffled through his bag, searching until he happily pulled out his Sehun sponsored Pepero.

Jongin frowned, “You didn’t like mine?”

“It was fine.”

“You didn’t like it.”

“I...Sehun’s my brother, Jongin, I have to support him.”

“It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings if you just admit you don’t like it.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes playfully, “It’s tasty, I actually like your Pepero.”

Jongin snickered as he apparently had the mentality of a high school….wait, nevermind.

Kyungsoo scoffed, “Idiot.”

“We name calling now, Kyungsoo?” Jongin teased as he snagged a bite of the smaller teen���s kimbap.

Kyungsoo glared, “What th- literally why.”

“Mmm,” Jongin moaned, “You have pretty good taste for a foreigner. That’s my favorite one.”

“Aren’t you, like, mega-rich?” Kyungsoo asked annoyingly, “Is it really necessary for you to be stealing bites off of someone else’s food?”

Jongin pouts, running a hand through his hair as he rests his head on his palm, chewing contently as his eyes lock on Kyungsoo, who, by the way had bits of sticky rice stuck on his top lip.

“I only share with people I like, consider yourself lucky.”

“Wow, I truly feel blessed.” Kyungsoo replied sarcastically before Jongin placed his fingertips on Kyungsoo lips.

“What are you doing?!” Kyungsoo looked bewildered, pulling back instantly embarrassed.

Jongin rolled his eyes as he broke out into a cheeky smile, “Hey, I’m trying to help you not look like a hangry 5-year-old. You have rice stuck on your face, genius.”

Kyungsoo snapped his head to look at his reflection in the glass, noticing that he indeed had rice stuck to his lips, not too sure about the looking hangry part though.

Jongin’s arm stretched out once more, his fingertips carefully picking off the rice one by one.

He’d be lying if he didn’t observe how plump and full Kyungsoo’s lips were.

The interaction was only brief, but from what Jongin could gather, Kyungsoo‘s lips were also pretty soft as well.

“Uh, thanks.” Kyungsoo begrudgingly wiped his mouth, “You never answered my question by the way.”

“Could say the same for you.”

“Yeah? That’s funny because I actually answered you first.”

Jongin snickered, loving the push and pull.

“Alright, you got me.” He rubbed his eyes, “I got a little hungry too. Only ate lunch today, then went to volleyball practice. After that you and I had our little view of the sunset and, finally, I worked non stop on some homework.” The model scrunched up his face playfully, “Meaning I totally forgot to eat dinner.”

Kyungsoo simply nodded, pulling the plastic film of his ramen back, quickly stirring the noodles around as Jongin stared intently.

“I bet you five bucks that ramen is soggy.”

Kyungsoo glared, “Shut up.”

“Here let me see.” Jongin seemingly pulled a pair of chopsticks out of thin air as he quickly maneuvered his big body closer to the ramen, getting a taste before Kyungsoo could even blink.

Damn, he’s fast.

Jongin chewed with a huge smirk as he got a peek of the deathly glare Kyungsoo was throwing at him.

“Mmm, no,” Jongin mumbled sounding pleased with himself, “It’s actually perfect.”

Kyungsoo shook his head in disbelief, but, he’d be lying if he was enjoying...well...whatever this was.

“Why don’t we share then.” Kyungsoo replied in a defeated tone.

“Really?”

“Well, since you apparently like eating other people’s food I guess I can’t stop you.”

Jongin perked up, noticing the hints of sarcasm in Kyungsoo’s voice but not bothered enough by it that he’d let this prime opportunity for free food pass up.

Jongin immediately scooted into Kyungsoo’s comfort zone as they shared the ramen. Their heads basically touching, Jongin’s broad shoulders hovering over Kyungsoo’s smaller body.

“Uhh, you said you play volleyball, right?” Kyungsoo asked fighting off some weird thoughts that crossed his mind.

Jongin took another bite, “Yeah, I’m the captain.”

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo asked as he felt his body slowly leaning back into Jongin.

It was a nice feeling, Jongin was actually quite warm which was welcomed considering it was a cold night.

“Mhmm, hey, your friend is trying out on Sunday, right? He any good?” Jongin asked as he slurped up some noodles.

“Chanyeol? I mean, just look at him, he’s a giant.” Kyungsoo chuckled,”But, yeah, he was actually the captain back home. He’s been playing all of his life so I’m sure he’d make a great addition to your team for sure.”

“Gotcha, I’ll keep that in mind. Height definitely helps and he looks pretty strong...We lost some good players last year so I’m definitely interested.” Jongin wiped his mouth before shooting a glance at Kyungsoo, “He’s living in Privilege House, what’s his story?”

Kyungsoo scoffed, “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Get to know your new housemate and possible teammate.”

“Ehh, I wanna hear from you considering how buddy, buddy you guys are. Plus, I missed his little introduction to the house.”

Jongin quickly mimed himself writing into a book referencing his mad study session that had caused him to miss dinner in the first place.

“Ohh, okay then. I guess I can tell you a little about him,” he teased, “Both of his parents are plastic surgeons. Really good people, and apparently they went to high school here, and so did his grandparents, which makes him a legacy-”

“Well, then why aren’t you living with us then?”

To which Kyungsoo let out a dry laugh, “Uh, if you haven’t noticed, Suho doesn’t exactly like me all that much. Maybe try asking him.”

Jongin pursed his lips, “Yeah, I knew that.”

Kyungsoo grimaced, “Well then why did you ask?”

“Ehh, wanted to see if you knew or not.” Jongin cheekily smiled.

“He’ll come around, Kyungsoo. Once you prove yourself trustworthy, he’ll stop being such an ass. For instance, he hated Minseok all of Freshman year because they both ran for Freshman class President but Minseok won.”

Jongin snorted, “I couldn’t tell if Suho wanted to rip Minseok’s face off or fuck him the whole year. He tried making Minseok’s life hell but somehow Minseok managed to fight back just as hard. It impressed Suho to a point where he just kinda stopped one day and they somehow ended it. I mean, I’m not sure what Suho expected? Most of Minseok’s family is tied to politics, the guy is practically destined to be South Korea’s president one day.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes darted left to right, “Oh..wait, and they’re friends now…?”

“Oh yeah, totally.”

“So Minseok just forgave Suho after making his life harder…?”

“Mmm, yeah.” Jongin’s voice was casual as if this kind of thing happens all the time and not a huge deal at all.

“Just like that? A simple fix?” Kyungsoo said slightly dumbfounded.

“Pretty much.” He chuckled glancing at Kyungsoo’s mixed expression, “How do I explain it… Uhh, Suho tends to be the boss around here, but, I guess after the freshman year showdown Suho discovered that Minseok was a pretty reliable ally, maybe even an equal. They understand each other somehow and have been pretty close ever since.”

Jongin laughed as he reached for his phone, quickly unlocking it and passing it to Kyungsoo.

“Got a Kakao id yet?”

“A what?”

Jongin playfully huffed as he rolled his eyes, “Get it together, foreigner.” He teased motioning for Kyungsoo to fork over his phone.

After a few clicks, agreements, and fighting over a witty username, Jongin had successfully set Kyungsoo up with a KakaoTalk.

“Look, we’re friends now, see?” He said showing Kyungsoo his first official friend on the messaging app.

“Gee, thanks” Kyungsoo replied sourly.

“Hey, I just did you a huge favor. A little enthusiasm wouldn’t kill you, would it?” Kyungsoo cocked his head to the side, “Funny, you say that considering you just ate the majority of my dinner, so...” Jongin looked as if he were about to say something, but knew Kyungsoo had him beat.

“We should probably head back, getting pretty late.” Kyungsoo suggested, picking up the leftover trash and discarding it accordingly.

“Very true...thanks for the meal, squirt.”

Jongin quickly patted Kyungsoo on the head, ruffling his hair as he smiled widely at the smaller teen he quickly turned on his heels and dashed towards Privilege house in an instant before he could catch the meanest glare that had spread across Kyungsoo’s face.

He huffed, “I am not a squirt.”

“Hey, coming to the Alumni party tonight?” Sehun asked with wide eyes.

Kyungsoo shifted in his stance, the two were waiting in line to purchase some food at some random restaurant in HQ that served Korean/western fusion style cuisine.

“Uhh, should I?” Kyungsoo asked as he looked over the menu.

“Of course!,” Sehun beamed, “Dad won’t be there, but, it’s usually pretty boring anyway. The after party, however, is super fun and some of the kids at Privilege house are able to score a shit ton of soju and cass.”

Kyungsoo cocked his head, “Wh...How is that even allowed?”

“It’s not,” Sehun grinned, “But, no one ever finds out. Props of Privilege House.”

Kyungsoo sighed, “Count me out.”

Sehun frowned, “What?! Why??”

“Not really my thing.”

“But, Soo, It’ll be fun! Sure, the actual party is boring, but, once the after party kicks off it’ll be a blast!”

Sehun continued his nagging, practically talking Kyungsoo’s ear off for the next thirty minutes.

Kyungsoo eventually agreed reluctantly if it meant Sehun would stop his constant whining.

“Good! 6 PM is the time of the event at the Incheon Ballroom on the 5th floor!” Sehun moved in closer, jokingly nudging his older brother as he whispered, “And the after party starts directly after, 7 PM at Privilege house.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kyungsoo mockingly moaned as he finally decided on this meal choice.

“Don’t worry, Soo. Chanyeol will be there too!”

Kyungsoo cracked a small grin, leaning back into his stance only to feel a hard presence pushed up behind him, to which Kyungsoo quickly shot his head up, looking into a pair of dark brown eyes that stared back down at him.

“I’ll be there too, squirt.”

Kyungsoo groaned, quickly moving off of Jongin.

“Okay, that is not going to become a thing.”

“Why, you don’t like it?” Jongin teased.

“No, I don’t actually.”

Jongin smirked, “Well I think it’s a nice nickname, what do you think Sehun?”

Sehun paused, shooting his eyes between the two nervously.

Although he hasn’t known Kyungsoo for very long he could pick up social cues and he was definitely not liking Kyungsoo’s icy gaze that he was staring into at the moment.

“Uhh,” Sehun stammered, “I’m going to order my food, bye.” He quickly turned on his heels and got the hell out of dodge.

Getting on Kyungsoo’s shit list was not on the top of Sehun’s to-do list for the day.

The two met eyes as they kind of just silently stared at each other for a bit.

“Sooo, you’re going to come right?” Jongin broke the ice.

“I’m leaving.”

Jongin burst out laughing as he grabbed onto Kyungsoo’s wrist quickly, holding the smaller teen still, “Wait, wait, wait. Come on, you have to go. If you want to get closer to Suho and get on his good side you have to make an appearance. A united family image means a lot to him.”

Kyungsoo looked up to a pouty Jongin, which instantly made Kyungsoo grin considering how childish he looked, “Yeah, Jongin I will come, alright? Also, I don’t think he considers me as his brother, but-”

“But he will...Just trust me, alright?” Jongin said with a somewhat sinister tone.

“Kim Jongin what on Earth are you planning right now?” Kyungsoo squinted, trying his hardest to decipher the tone.

Jongin walked past the smaller teen turning around playfully as he shot both fingers up as if he were shooting a pair of guns, “See you at the party tonight, squirt!” He shouted as he sauntered out of the restaurant and out of sight.

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, noticing Sehun staring at him with wide eyes “That will not become a thing, dammit.” He yelled across the restaurant as watching eyes quickly turned to stare at the source of the outburst.

Kyungsoo quickly turned his back, quickly walking up to the register to order his food as he quietly cursed to himself.

All while Sehun tried his hardest not to burst out laughing.

“Hehe, squirt.”

“I heard your father’s not coming, how come?” Minseok asked as he stirred his drink.

“Same reason as last year, and the year before that.” Suho said dryly, “These parties are such a bore anyway, he’s not missing out on much.”

Minseok chuckled, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Mhmm, mainly just ready for the after party.”

“Yes, our yearly tradition thanks to you” Minseok patted Suho on the back, “The future generations of Privilege House are in debt to you.” Minseok joked.

The Alumni party was filling out, legacies of the past returning to mingle as well as some students from the academy networking and making small talk about their future.

Suho took a drink before scoffing as his eyes set on a guy with big round eyes and a small frame.

“What is it?” Minseok asked as he stared in the direction of Suho’s unpleasant gaze.

“The mooch.” Suho said dryly.

“Hmm, you really don’t like him, huh?” Minseok questioned as he narrowed his eyes at Kyungsoo, examining him.

“I have my reasons, Minseok.”

“Well, Suho, you’re a smart guy.” Minseok replied calmly, “Surely you’ve thought about how much of a benefit it would be to have Kyungsoo on our side. He is a legacy after all. He belongs with us, in Privilege House.”

Suho grimaced at the idea, “Look, I have thought about it, but, there isn’t any room. After Chanyeol and Jessica joined I simply cannot just put them out. They took the last spots.” He said in a nonchalant sing-song sort of tone.

Minseok shot a serious look, it was Suho’s own fault to stare into Minseok’s ‘mothering gaze’ that somehow always made him feel a hint of guilt.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know I hate that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t look at you like that if you’d stop bullshitting me, Suho.” Minseok crossed his arms, “You and I both know that we have the room to adjust and make space for him it that huge ass house.”

Suho lasted a good three minutes under the pressuring gaze of Minseok before he finally cracked, but only conceding to the small defeat on his own terms.

“Fine.” Suho said sourly, “I’ll give him a chance, but he has to pass a test that I give him. If he fails to do what I assign then he’s out.” Suho extended his hand confidently to Minseok.

It took Minseok a few seconds before he met Suho with his own hand as the two formally shook on the deal, “And what will the task be?” Minseok asked with curiosity.

Suho pursed his lips as he locked eyes with Sehun from across the ballroom. He quickly raised his hand, flagging down Sehun who began making his way over, with Kyungsoo in toll.

“Patience is a virtue, my good Minseok.”

Kyungsoo could feel the gaze on him as they walked closer, Suho was definitely staring right at him, but the weird thing was, that it wasn’t a stare filled with hatred or distaste.

It almost looked as if Suho was happy for a change, which put Kyungsoo on edge considering it wasn't a normal emotion from Suho to express at all.

“Kyungsoo, come on, you’re like weighing me down are you even walking??” Sehun complained as they made their way closer to Suho and Minseok who was also staring at him intently but with a big welcoming smile which was pretty normal for him.

The four politely exchanged greetings and formalities, while Kyungsoo stood behind Sehun, almost as if he were hiding.

“Kyungsoo. Are you enjoying the party so far?” Suho asked with a tone that was calm and collected.

Kyungsoo stammered for a bit before answering confidently, “It’s nice, it’s pretty fancy.”

“Ahh, yes, experiencing nice things must be new for you, I presume.” Suho grinned as Kyungsoo tried processing if that statement was meant to sound snotty and backhanded.

Minseok patted Suho on the back as he awkwardly smiled, “So, did you two just come in now?”

Sehun nodded, “Yeah, I guess we’re still pretty early, huh? Not a lot of the others are here yet.” He pouted as he looked around the room.

“Ah, yes,” Minseok replied, “A lot of them are staying behind to prepare for the after party, but Jongin and Chen should be..be here in a second”

Minseok smiled once more as he looked into Kyungsoo’s eyes which were now incredibly wide with shock as a pair of two hands gripped at his sides as he jumped at least a foot up into the air.

The other five burst out laughing from the sound of fear that came out of Kyungsoo’s mouth.

The small teen quickly turned around to see Jongin giggling, Kyungsoo quickly looked down to notice Jongin’s large hands were still holding onto his waist to which he quickly freed himself from the tight grasp.

“I hate you.” Kyungsoo sneered.

“Aw, come on, Soo.” Jongin groaned as he placed his hands on his own hips.

Kyungsoo quickly glanced to see Suho laughing too, maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing if he was able to make Suho laugh.

“Whatever, idiot.” Kyungsoo replied as he rolled his eyes.

Sehun quickly rested his arm on his older brother shoulders for support as Jongin and Chen joined the circle.

“Wow, talk about a snooze fest,” Chen said dully as he looked around the room.

“Could be worse, last year they had that god awful bassoon player for some weird reason, remember that?” Minseok replied as he took a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I still want to forget that. The amount of times they went sharp still haunts my dreams.” Chen joked as Jongin made a noise that sounded as if it were out of annoyance

The others noticed, quickly trying to find the source.

“Ahh,” Suho noticed first, “Is that Yein girl still bothering you, Jongin?”

“Yeah, I feel like it’s only gotten worse, to be honest.” He sighed as he grimaced.

Kyungsoo followed the gaze to notice a small girl with round frame glasses and a short bob haircut with blunt bangs to match. The dress she wore looked a little out of style, but, from afar she seemed nice enough.

From what he could gather she was constantly stealing glances from the short time he’d been examining her, but, the glances seemed to be meant only for Jongin.

“What’s wrong?” It slipped out of Kyungsoo’s mouth by total accident.

Jongin looked down at Kyungsoo, his mouth cocking to the side with a grim expression.

“Uhh, well-”

“Lee Yein has been stalking our good friend Jongin here for quite some time,” Suho interjected, “Actually, it’s been since, what, middle school, right?” Suho’s eye’s met Jongin’s to which Jongin simply nodded, confirming the story.

“Yeah, so, she’s made Jongin feel really uncomfortable for years, and last semester Krystal totally went off on her in front of everyone at HQ. She had stopped for a while, but, she still manages to be a creep, but only from afar.” Sehun added, glancing over to notice Yein looking over once again.

Kyungsoo bit his lip, “Well, what would she do exactly?” He looked up to Jongin only to hear Suho’s voice reply once more.

“Well, what wouldn’t she do, right? She would take pictures of him and put it in this creepy diary where she would write fanfiction about both of them being together. Don’t even get me started on the smut, she’s totally crazy.” He scoffed, “ She’d also steal his belongings that she would then wear the next day and be adamant that it was her’s. Like, remember your gloves, Jongin?” Suho asked as Jongin nodded once more.

“Totally gone.” Suho continued, “And not to mention we would go out and she would literally trail us. If we went to a restaurant, she’d be there. A movie? She’d be there. She somehow managed to get into Jongin’s house one time, trying to spread the good word about the watching tower or something weird like that.” Suho crossed his arms as he huffed, totally amazed at his own memory of the shameful situations Yein had imposed on Jongin all these years.

The others were too busy laughing at the trip down memory lane, but it was in this quick instance that Kyungsoo noticed something…

A fast tinge on Suho’s face, almost as if a light switch had went off in his mind.

Suho’s eyes darted from where Yein stood back to Kyungsoo in a flash.

Kyungsoo met eyes with Suho, noticing the look his stepbrother had on his face which made Kyungsoo suspicious and the grin spread across Suho’s face instantly made Kyungsoo uneasy.

“Hey, Kyungsoo?” Suho asked politely as the other boys settled down to listen, Sehun cocked a brow in suspicion, “Would you mind going over to Yein and invite her to come to the after party at Privilege House tonight?”

Minseok clenched his jaw, immediately turning his head to see the ominous grin spread across Suho’s face.

Kyungsoo's eyes darted from left to right as he nervously bit his cheek, “Uhh, why? You guys don’t even like her?”

Suho chuckled, “Yeah, but I think it’s about time our good friend Jongin here is free from this type of harassment. I just want to clear up a few things with her once and for all, you know?”

Sehun eyed his eldest brother carefully before looking back to Kyungsoo, noticing his stone cold expression. The silence seemed to have lasted forever until Kyungsoo finally spoke up.

“Why? So you can be mean to her? I get that she’s a little strange but what good is tormenting her going to do?” Kyungsoo asked as the others looked to Suho, totally unaware of his motives.

Chen quickly added a comment that opened up a conversation between him, Suho, and Minseok.

In the midst of the side conversation Kyungsoo felt a light squeeze on his waist, he slowly looked up to see Jongin’s eyes unreadable, yet serious. He wasn’t too sure what to make out of it, but he was sure he saw a slight nod and before he knew it the exchange was over.

“...And that’s why I think it’s important. So, you see, Kyungsoo? I just want to talk. To clear the air with her once and for all, all for the sake of our friend. So, do you think you could go over and invite her?”

Kyungsoo took a deep breath, looking back in Yein’s direction to see her eyes totally locked on Jongin once more.

If it made Jongin that uncomfortable he wouldn’t mind, but something behind Suho’s voice made this whole situation strange. Kyungsoo wasn’t a bad guy, and no matter how creepy this girl was he wasn’t going to stand by and let Suho tear her down unjustly.

But Jongin had been dealing with this for years now, and he couldn’t even imagine what being stalked felt like. Even if Suho did something harsh, everyone else he’s met thus far has been pretty nice, surely this ‘talk’ wouldn’t be incredibly damaging to her.

Kyungsoo looked back at Suho, eyes unreadable, “Fine, I’ll go ask her.”

Kyungsoo wasn’t quite sure what he was doing.

In fact, he had a feeling deep down in his gut that definitely told him that this was possibly a bad idea. He wasn’t exactly sure what Suho’s motive behind having Yein come to the party was, but he knew that it probably wasn’t good.

His hands were a little sweaty and he was already a matter of steps away.

The look in Jongin’s eyes was also strange, he wasn’t sure if he could trust him or what that moment even meant.

It was all so confusing, and he didn’t want to be the reason for someone getting hurt, especially if the one inflicting the damage would be Suho. Kyungsoo didn’t want to give him that power.

“Hello?” Kyungsoo quickly shook out of his thoughts as he heard a high pitched voice filling his ears.

“Uh, hello,” Kyungsoo formally greeted her, “I’m Kyungsoo and I wanted to know if you would like to come to the after party that’s happening at privilege house tonight?”

Yein’s eyes grew wide as she looked past Kyungsoo’s shoulders, probably looking back at Jongin for the hundredth time no doubt.

“Does Jongin want me there?” Yein asked earnestly, “He’ll be there too right, yes?”

Kyungsoo couldn’t believe it, maybe what Suho said really was the truth considering her eager demeanor and constant glances that she made since their conversation started.

“Well, Suho extended the invitation but, yeah, Jongin will be there.”

“I’ll be there, what time?” She said eagerly.

“Uhh, right after this, 7 PM?”

“Oh, well I might be a little late is that okay? I need to freshen up, and change.” She looked a little manic, maybe it was just too much excitement flowing through her small body.

Kyungsoo nodded, “Yeah, that should be fine, no worries, okay?”

“Thanks, Kyungsoo! I’m so excited!” She said with a huge smile as she quickly left the ballroom presumably to start her preparations.

Kyungsoo turned around to see Suho nodding with approval.

Minseok silently leaned into Suho’s ear as he whispered, “This isn’t your little test, is it?”

To which Suho grinned smugly, “Oh, this is just phase one, but, all in good time my dear Minseok. All in good time.”

[tenaciouscupcaketaco]

Mario William Vitale’s Poetry

Bio Of Mario William Vitale The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension: Mario William Vitale Biography I was born in 1970 Bristol hospital. A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success, As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act. Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church. In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood" Where I had the lead role as the Narrator, I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989, Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long, Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School, After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com Attempted plays: Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade, (His poetic aspirations had derived at 18 in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum) Attended Central Connecticut State University For Creative Writing: 1997 Next from 1989-1997 (Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry) , * Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ", (1998)Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland". Back with rave reviews! * (From 1999-2008: Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: (1999- Sent Editorial to: New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie; Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached, * 2000-2007: Magazine: (Catholic)Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset! 2008- Wrote poem entitled: (The Heavy Cross)to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy; (The Connecticut Poetry Society) * Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia Writers Quarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry. Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return, Thankfulness toward family and friends.(To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted? My contemporary artists include that of Ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and Carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry Having been a member since 2006, My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe. Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creative passion! The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a very positive light.) After experiencing a life transformation encounter.I had realized that poetry is my unique way to convey myself my work speaks from the heart with pure sentiments of though intact, As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform, My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing, Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com... I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979, Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine. My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts. Hope you can read my poetry. Sea Stacks skipped rocks through a stream today the opening of a brand new day its frame is in minor decay the bleached wood massed in bone piles, we pulled it from dark beach and built fire in a fenced clearing the posts' blunt stubs sank down the circled and were roofed by milled lumber dragged at one time to the coast We slept there Each morning the minus tide- weeds flowed it like hair swimming The starfish gripped rock, pastel, rough. Fish bones lay in sun Each noon the milk fog sank from cloud cover, came in our clothes and held them tighter on us. Sea stacks stood and disappeared They came back when the sun scrubbed out the inlet Life Force through the flame cover me in silent sound dignity for with what one is willing to achieve valiantly feel the breeze nestled through the trees shaped through your dreams a piercing of the skin new hearts to begin again Choices Many have a hard time understanding They live for self and that of society They are the walking dead yet they don't even know it Eyes with blackened spots having holes Viscous fangs with blood dripping off the side You share with them the truth They choose to run away & hide Yet deep inside they may still question Why am i here ? They can't even help you Cause they won't help themselves They are the scum of the land Much too afraid to stand among the son of man A bitter taste Do they want salt or sugar coated messages Positive reinforcement strengthens the heart Negativity kills it Each of us has been given a choice We must lend a helping hand with a voice All of us have been given a choice Now which pathway will you choose ? Emerald City There’ll be no unemployment in heaven. No worry about the next meal. There’ll be no bills to harass us, and thieves will not break in and steal. In heaven, we’ll have no need for money; Everything up there will be free. We’ll enjoy God’s unsearchable riches, and have unending security. I’m looking forward to heaven, that land that is fairer than day. Where all will be joy and gladness, and sorrow and care will flee away. Up there, no mean words will be spoken. Each heart will be filled with pure love. We’ll never be hurt or rejected, in the beautiful city above. There will be no disappointment or heartache. God will wipe all the tears from our eyes. No one will ever be lonely, and there’ll be no anguished good-byes. Up there, the love we have for each other, by each heart will be shared equally. And we’ll have all the things that we’ve longed for, and at last we will really be free Little Angel Hope springs a new On a cloud in heaven Stand a heavenly angel With mere beauty of crystalized light Golden emblems encrusted their frame Sweet songs drifting to a very faint whisper Eyes, hands & face A real message sent down to earth To care for those lonely souls all alone There beauty is a surprise to encounter Slipping through locked doors to appear Many have shed a tear to numb the inner pain Causing accidents not to happen They appear in the form of brightened miracles We see them with a heart all a glow Come to the birth of a new born baby Come to servicemen who just joined the navy You will see them at a graveyard setting Even among gamblers who do there betting There all around us you see For all of life is but a mystery These Flames I Live turn back the tear drop pillow I'm sick to my stomach suffering alone and hard piercing cavity of viscious fangs that bite illusive impulsive the rant These flames I live my right to forgive undercover beyond the means living in a land of mean barren sea a shot in the dark to light the spark many are left in rebellion what an incredible talent Vitale is he is the poet of all poets the moment you met him perfect ten a chick lying with her hens a quest... flaws and failures yes he wears Depends a trip to the zoo nothing new Laughter Laughter fills the scented air through days exposed the timeless hour of a loathsome mast expounded upon the cavity of debris develop a grateful heart that one may impart look close through a pillar of glass a vergence sea out beyond the interpass a halo with a song to help you get along the sight of a fawn on the lawn greed and materialism will crush out the light in your life penetration by the holy spirit a heart change has to happen one must be open to the message care for your brother help for your pale sister one ear on the floor a cause for more through fetters got it made to even out the score Unending Brigade I ask myself politely what resistance flowers here against love treaded lightly or losing lovingness dear? give cadence to the simple, for I gave ammunition to the laughter we should we ever falter the timeless whisper of happening golden nuggets of thought & inspiration braids my hair with a great deal of wear through the conclaves of love's fastened grip shadows block the vortex to aid its message The Dream Police they come to my head at the side of my bed they are enforcing my sleep give cadence to a treat a far from ports unknown like a dog without a bone giving tickets to be enforced every time I have a dream forces scream Of Time & Dreams Father's gold pocket watch measured heartbeats, times for surgery and the slow drip of an IV all else in his life was overture to main events, like birth and death of those the family never knew Steps from my childhood dreams to his were counted in places where treasure were wet pebbles and the pulse of life was seen in raindrops on the lake now the watch is mine, and i yearn to throw it like a pebble into the past, to see it skip and yield to places we never shared, like blue-green eddies near the shore and grasses curled by the win Yet, warming in my palm, the measurer of his days seems to sing the music of turning points where drying dreams meet others born anew, emerging through images of caring to rhythms more than metrical that i've yet to understand The Land Of Dreams When you fall asleep at night, your mind goes into an eerie flight You can open the gate with the key of thought, and don't have to do what you've been taught You sing, and dance, and prance all day and you act so happy and also gay You run in circles and run into the trees, and cut your elbows and scrape your knees But sometimes you open the wrong gate, and find yourself facing a terrible fate There are monsters, ghouls and also grouches, and then you wish you were on confortable couches And when you're done and almost through, your mind knows exactly what to do you go back through that eerie flight it may be day it may be night And when your mind comes back to you, you may wake up and have the flu You could leave for school very late, and find out that it's the wrong date And you could play outside in the streams but you will know that you entered "The Land Of Dreams." Old Crow Old crow Tired and lazy' against the day Dark skies Lost in blacks and whites and grays Howling north wind Sure takes a man's fight away Wastelands, A dreamer's home on his best day Hard rain Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade And talks cheap, But for the words of time they'll ave the last say Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say And the harvest is in, it wasn't much May I have enough to get by The baskets were light, not a muscle ached And somehow I feel I'm going to die The winter is coming and the signs say hard I've never seen such a haunting sky For on the mountains, frost in the wind And somehow I feel I'm going to die Full moon Lonely above the old oak tree line Old crow Hanging empty in the black sky And a nighthawk Circles her in silence as she flies Old crow, all alone she flies Pheonix the blazing glory of a loving night Disappears in the sun's bright morning light All efforts to recall that glorious pain Fade in the dawn to be sought in vain but the memory clings of precious glory that will not become an old, dull story instead that memory promises anew that love will spring forth and again renew with every joining of two loving souls again will emerge from the fading coals a love renewed by the glowing embers so that this night, too, will be remembered. Soul Search When I look into your eyes I see the sunshine and rain, The deeper I look and also see Various kinds of pain; I can see the kind, warm love that filters thru, To surface at the top when you’re not blue, I have seen and know your hopes and fears The good and bad times you have thru years, You have seen and felt so much I’m glad our lives did touch Look deep into my eyes and you will find The heartaches and happiness that were also mine Come With Me Come with me and be my friend Lets create a fantasy just you & me lets linger through the wind and feel free lets run through the sand and make time stand still so we can treasure this moment Only until The mystical ocean touches our souls and fills our hearts with love come with me and I'll show you What I have to give come with and I'll describe The life I dreamed we'd live come with and hold me gently and watch the retiring sun slowly set Shower me with all your love pretending we just met Whenever you need me I'll be there To help lift your spirits and I want to care About you come with and be my love no longer a fantasy just you & me This time only A reality... Mario William Vitale. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet Personifications Of Oceanic Thoughts whispers sun lit morn the surf hits the turf smells of salt air through the moment savor each moment as the memory lasts bask in the vast expanse between time & space sounds of children playing seaweed next to the rocks along the cobblestone walkway solace torn up in the derision of peace with solidarity we were made for moments such as these seagulls flock overhead remember me in thoughts as these whisk through the breeze capture one's inner sense alas with angelic fervor permeates a flame of life's torn reality a new to face the day Follow Your Heart Magic breathes life in our hearts Destiny resides in our souls Our path now shimmers unshadowed by the night With one embrace partnered by a tender kiss, the bounds of time and distance crumble through fingers like drifting grains of sand Dream time is the place where I am alive Green eyes ripple into lipid pools where miracles draw me to your heart I am free to swim by your side until the sun sets and rises with you again Life is my dream I love you Cynthia When at night I close my eyes, to think all the days gone by, to feel again those passions past, and feeble joy that never lasts, I'm always drawn to thoughts of you, my only love my Cynthia I think I found you in a dream then we celebrate, the night I pressed beyond the seam, where fantasy and reality meet in summer mist so soft and sweet, But you were all I ever felt, my deepest love, my Cynthia But dreams just last within the night, when morning came, Her soul took flight I awake to find Her never there She passes like the misty air To leave me longing and alone, my painful love, my Cynthia Enigma love you swell the heart, to crush the same when lovers part But whether love and joy you bring or bitter pain and Death's cold sting I plead you come to me again, my final love, My Cynthia For My Precious Son You're standing in the doorway. Your workday is all done. He waits to see you everyday, this boy that is your son. He hopes you will go fishing. He hopes you'll shoot the gun. He just wants to be with you, this boy that is your son. He is your spitting image. To him you are ''The One''. He hopes to be just like you, this boy that is your son. You show him what a man is. You teach as you have fun. You are admired as well as loved by this boy that is your son. You've got a friend forever. Until the world is done. Then, still you will be holding this man that is your son. I'm Just A Poetical Lyricist I’m just having fun, but no doubt someone will take this serious I’m about to take you on a lyrical experience I’m having fun with words, like when a baby first starts reading books Saying I’m good at rhyming, Is like saying Mike Tyson packs a decent punch I best mention the Kardashians other wise you’ll have trouble keeping up Me with a pen is more dangerous than Michael Myers on Halloween when he starts slashing with the knife Telling me I can’t rhyme, is the biggest mistake you’ve made since you let your ex Back in to your life Speaking of exes, will someone please date mine I promise she’ll give you a great time I’ll pay for the date, its all on me All I ask, is please be good enough to get her to stop calling me I love Hip Hop, and yeah I know I’m white Please be creative and tell me how I’m the new Vanilla ice Or how I should walk right back across 8 mile I could have thrown this into my waste pile But I just wanted to write some joke lines and have some fun Sick of hearing rappers talk about drugs and how they pack a gun “yeah I’m Bad. I’ll make this Uzi Squirt” You don’t know who Nas is, And think the greatest rapper is Lil Uzi Vert Or some other mumble rapper with lame rhymes You deserve to have Biggie and Big Pun sit on you at the same time Some guy called Young Thug is wearing dresses That’s not something I have a problem with My problem is There’s so much going on in the world and these rappers are scared to address it What happened to Hip-Hop when rappers would share a message? Nas, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick, I could name so many more Now its a bunch of dudes who sound the same with empty thoughts I’d pretend to be from the hood and blast guns but I’d fail I’d rather be the real me, and I’m far too cute to go to Jail I just love Hip Hop and the way it used to be You always get the truth from me someone tell Rihanna I’m ready to give her the best 30 seconds of her life Tell her she’ll only regret it if I become a legend when I die Knowing she could of had me This is my last piece of paper, I’m now pad free I was watching rap battles on YouTube, So took you on this lyrical experience I’m just a poetical lyricist Rapula back in the day where hustlers stayed there were those very afraid he was born in the gutter his momma was a vamp selling her junk in the trunk of a car up all night slept all day he was blown from the frey viscious fangs that bite two turn tables with a mic insisted on a fight sucking the innocent patrons for blood right in the hood like you knew he would Rapula the man, the myth & the legend could very often see him in the back of a seven eleven drinking red slurpees took folks block by block like giving him a heart attack just to fit his mold no one came against him until that day in the crib Rapula lost his lobster bib very often you will see him at the 8th Street Station spinning his records there will never be another blood sucking brother so move over he's taking cover Rapula wore a high hat tip on his temple driving a white Benz looking like Baretta I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me Supernatural but it's so true the world ha

[jobsearchtips02]

What it resembles remaining at New York City’s premier hotel: The St. Regis

.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

The St. Regis New York is the best hotel in New York City, according to United States News & World Report.

Editorial Note: Service Insider paid a discounted media rate for a Superior room at the St. Regis.

Visit Company Insider’s homepage for more stories

The finest hotel in New york city City is the St. Regis, a renowned 116- year-old high-end hotel straight off Fifth Opportunity, according to US News & World Report.

The ranking is based upon an analysis of market awards, hotel star ratings, and user scores, and after that sorted by hotel class and typical TripAdvisor ratings. According to the publication, the St. Regis earned the leading spot thanks to its “high level of customer care” and “perfect combination of old-world glamour and contemporary benefits.”

Opened in 1904, the hotel was developed by business person, real-estate designer, and investor John Jacob Astor, who was one of the wealthiest and most high-profile people to die in the sinking of the Titanic in 1912.

The St. Regis New York City is owned by the Qatar Financial Investment Authority, which bought the hotel for $310 million in2019 The hotel is still run by Marriott.

The hotel’s iconic cocktail lounge, King Cole Bar, has hosted well-known visitors consisting of Marilyn Monroe and John Lennon Artist Salvador Dali lived at the St. Regis for months at a time.

I just recently invested a night at the St. Regis to figure out why it’s the best hotel in New York City. Here’s what it resembled.

The St. Regis New York City is the very best hotel in New York City, according to US News & World Report.

A view of the St. Regis New York City in Manhattan.

Katie Warren/Business Insider

The first-class Manhattan hotel snatched the leading area thanks to its “high level of client service” and “ideal combination of old-world glamour and modern conveniences.”

The St. Regis, which has been a New york city City landmark because 1988, beat out other high-end hotels that consist of the Beekman, Baccarat Hotel, and the Lotte New York Palace.

United States News & World Report’s ranking is based on an analysis of industry awards, hotel star rankings, and user scores, and then arranged by hotel class and typical TripAdvisor rankings.

In operation considering that 1904, the St. Regis was built by John Jacob Astor, who was among the wealthiest guys in America at the time. Astor was one of the most high-profile and wealthy guests to pass away in the sinking of the Titanic in1912

In addition to its 171 rooms and 67 suites, the St. Regis has 31 personal homes and a special house club.

On a current January late afternoon, I took the train up to Midtown Manhattan, where the St. Regis lies.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

The 20- story hotel is on 55 th Street and 5th Opportunity, meaning it’s only about four blocks from Central Park and simply around the corner from luxury shops like Valentino and Coach.

In fact, high-end jewelry expert Harry Winston occupies the corner retail area in the St. Regis.

Although it ignores Fifth Avenue, the St. Regis’ primary entrance is on 55 th Street, ideal across the street from Ralph Lauren’s infamously hard-to-get-into Polo Bar.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

Smartly attired doormen stand in front of the entryway underneath a royal black-and-gold canopy. Looking at the primary entrance and facade, it wasn’t difficult to see why the hotel was declared a New York City landmark.

I stepped through the gilded revolving doors into the hotel …

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

… and discovered myself standing in the most beautiful hotel lobby I have actually ever seen.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

From the shiny marble floors to the classy chandeliers and gilded walls, I felt like I was inside a museum– or the Chateau de Versailles.

Adjacent to the check-in counter was a concierge cubicle that was staffed whenever I passed it.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The hotel likewise has a Bentley car service that offers totally free drop-offs within a 10- block radius of the hotel.

Regrettably, the hotel’s check-in system was down when I arrived at about 4: 40 p.m., for which the front desk representative asked forgiveness profusely.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

I was informed it would be about a 20- minute wait and provided a complimentary cocktail at the hotel’s mixed drink bar while I waited.

After I handed off my bag at the check-in counter, a staff member accompanied me past the hotel’s dining establishment to the bar, which likewise has a separate street entryway.

The King Cole Bar is a relaxing yet advanced mixed drink bar that claims to be the birthplace of the Bloody Mary– but here, it’s called the Red Snapper.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The wood-paneled walls and candlelit tables gave the bar a relaxing vibe, however it was still clearly a high-end establishment.

I might see why it was chosen as one of the recording places for the hit CW show ” Gossip Lady.”

Individuals sitting at the bar had Louis Vuitton shopping bags on the floor beside them. Two females and a male to my left, who I ‘d approximate to be in their 40 s, were going over Broadway programs and the personal bankruptcy of upscale department store Barneys New York.

I’m not a big fan of Bloody Marys, so I bought a Jazz Me Blues cocktail that consisted of pear-flavored Grey Goose vodka, Saint Germain, and Champagne.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

A glass of red wine balanced about $28, although one went for $52 per glass and $400 per bottle.

The King Cole Bar is known for the huge mural by Maxfield Parrish that stretches along the wall behind the bar.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

After a wait that was closer to 40 minutes than 20, I got a call informing me that my room was prepared– and that I ‘d gotten an upgrade.

Although my luggage had actually currently been taken up, the front desk agent asked if I ‘d like her to escort me and my companion to the room.

At this point, despite the wait, I currently felt guaranteed that my joy was the leading priority of the hotel staff.

The elevators at the St. Regis, with their gilded exterior doors and interior wood paneling, stimulate a different age.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

I hovered my essential card over a touchless sensing unit inside the elevator to get to the 12 th floor.

The 12 th floor hallway was painted in soft tones of pink with gilded lighting fixtures.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

It had a really romantic vibe.

The doors to the spaces are glossy black with golden deals with and numbered placards.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

The St. Regis utilizes a contactless card system, so I simply needed to hover my crucial card in front of the sensing unit and the door opened.

Although I had scheduled a Superior space, the hotel updated us to a Deluxe room after their incident with the check-in system. I wasn’t sure what the distinction would be.

I entered the room and discovered myself in a little entryway, with the restroom to the left and the bedroom directly ahead of me.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The entryway was adorned with shiny black-and-white tiles.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

To the right was a large closet with a safe, an ironing board and an iron, and a note using a complimentary shoe shine.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

His name was Israel and he had an extremely warm, inviting attitude that made me feel like his number one goal in life was to make our stay as pleasurable as possible.

To the left of the entryway was the restroom, which features dual marble vanities …

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

… and a deep soaking tub. There were a lot of fluffy white towels and 2 bathrobes supplied.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

There was also a walk-in steam shower.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

When I showered later that evening, I found the water pressure and temperature to be optimal.

The St. Regis uses Remede bath products and Crest mouthwash.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

There was likewise a ring holder.

After briefly questioning why there was a remote nestled in among the bath items, I realized there was a TV in the mirror, which I found to be a really exciting feature.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

You could watch the news or a TELEVISION program while getting ready at the sink, and even from the bath tub– the possibilities!

The room itself was embellished in a lavish, classical style, with neutral beige and gold tones and navy blue accents.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The 12- foot ceiling and fancy chandelier offered the room a luxurious feel. After touching the walls, I understood they were covered not in wallpaper, however in panels of silk.

The Deluxe spaces at the St. Regis are 450 square feet, which I’m pretty sure is practically the size of my one-bedroom Brooklyn home.

A flat screen TELEVISION was installed on the wall above what I at first thought was a dresser however is really a hidden minibar.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The minibar consisted of an extensive selection of carbonated water, soda, Starbucks coffee, liquor, Champagne, white wine, and juice.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

There was likewise a collection of treats such as chocolate bars, nuts, M&M s, and gluten-free potato chips, along with some health essentials like deodorant.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

Even a bottle of Corona was $13, so I steered clear of the minibar for the sake of my wallet.

The Deluxe space featured a spacious sitting location that could quickly seat four individuals.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

I was pleasantly shocked to see an excellent spread of welcome snacks awaiting us on the coffee table.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

There were three types of cheese, macarons, and fresh blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries.

There was likewise a small bowl of St. Regis-branded chocolates– both milk and dark.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

On a side table was much more fresh fruit– grapes, an apple, and a banana– along with some silverware, napkins, and little plates.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

I attempted a little bit of everything. The berries weren’t as ripe or sweet as they might be (it is winter, after all), but the cheese and macarons were wonderful.

I also discovered an individualized welcome letter from the hotel’s marketing supervisor.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The St. Regis is a first-class hotel in one of the world’s most costly cities, but somehow I was still shocked by the space service prices.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

For breakfast, a Belgian waffle expense $32, and an omelette was $30

Maybe most remarkable was a sliced up avocado for $16

On top of each nightstand was the black button utilized to page the butler.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

There was likewise a Bose alarm clock and sound system.

The view from the window was nothing unique; I appeared to be checking out some workplaces.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

After hanging out in the room for a while, we headed out to dinner nearby, and when we came back to the room, it had actually been treated with the night turndown service.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

The tones were closed, the Bose stereo was playing relaxing instrumental music, the TELEVISION had been turned toward the bed, and a set of slippers in a fabric bag was placed on either side of the bed.

A bottle of water and a drinking glass were put on each side table.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

There was likewise a tray set on the bed in case I wanted a shoe-shine service, total with a cloth shoe bag.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The shoe shining is done overnight, so visitors can just leave their shoes in the bag outside their door prior to they go to sleep.

Neither of us chose a shoe shining, however the next early morning, my buddy changed his mind and asked a passing employee in the corridor about the service. The staff member said it was done overnight, so we shrugged it off– no huge offer.

However when we returned to our room half an hour later, the employee was there and stated he had not recognized we were taking a look at today which of course he might shine the shoes right now.

He took my companion’s boots right there and returned them within 20 minutes, right prior to we were set to take a look at.

The bed was one of the most comfortable I have actually ever slept in.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

It most likely had something to do with the 300 thread count linens and the plume down comforter.

I awoke the next morning feeling exceedingly well rested and opened the curtains to find a gloomy, rainy day.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

Although the glass doors opened to a terrace, they only opened a fracture and the desk was set directly in front of them, so the terrace was plainly not suggested to be used.

Due to the fact that it’s difficult for me to deal with the world without drinking coffee first, I sucked it up and bought some by means of room service.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

My buddy ordered some green tea, and the overall came out to $3141– certainly the most I’ve ever spent on coffee and tea.

I took an early morning bubble bath while I drank my coffee.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

The bathtub is much deeper and more large than it looks, and it filled up extremely rapidly. You can likewise close the drain so that the water fills all the way to the rim.

After my bath, I decided to check out the remainder of the hotel.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

Simply off the primary lobby is the Cognac Space, where visitors can have a peaceful cup of tea, coffee, or bourbon.

The hotel’s primary dining establishment is Astor Court, which serves worldwide cuisine and has a smart-casual gown code.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

Afternoon tea, served from 3 to 5 p.m., is $65 per person and includes a selection of tea sandwiches, scones, and desserts.

The dinner menu includes products like Butternut Squash and Champagne Risotto for $32, Roasted Halibut for $50, and Filet Mignon and Scallops for $62

On the 19 th flooring is the St. Regis Athletic Club, which is open 24 hours a day to all visitors.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

It appeared to have a thorough variety of cardio devices, dumbbells, and even a Peloton bike.

Katie Warren/Business Insider.

A Peloton retails for about $2,245

The addition of the gym came throughout the St. Regis’ 2013 restoration, throughout which the visitor spaces and suites were likewise reconditioned and the lobby was renovated.

The gym provided both cooled and room temperature level mineral water, fresh fruits, earphones, and cooled towels.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

There was likewise a locker space, shower, and vanity.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

In the level listed below the lobby, the St. Regis has its own flower shop, beauty salon and health spa, and several screens showcasing the hotel’s history and popular visitors.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

Our check-out time was noon, however we took a chance and called the front desk to ask if we might be able to examine out a little later given that we ‘d had to wait to examine in the night before.

After my night at the St. Regis New York City, it was clear that the hotel’s superior service is what sets it apart.

Katie Warren/Business Expert.

While the rooms were gorgeous and the hotel’s Midtown Manhattan location is ideal for both organisation tourists and tourists, other high-end hotels in the area can state the exact same.

For me, it was the customer service that defined my remain at the St. Regis. I have actually been lucky enough to remain in the $18,000- a-night, multiple-room governmental suite at the Ritz-Carlton in Moscow, and while its sheer size and amenities like an in-room sauna were ultra-luxurious, I didn’t feel the exact same level of welcoming and care that I did at the St. Regis.

Every staff member I came across at the St. Regis greeted me by name and made me feel special, like I was their top concern. (I could not assist but question if this how rich people feel all the time when they go anywhere.)

And although I never ever paged the butler, it was good to know there was somebody there at every hour of the day and night if I required something.

The St. Regis New york city definitely measured up to its “high level of customer support” as guaranteed in US News & World Report. For those who have the methods to drop hundreds or countless dollars a night on a hotel– and pay astronomical prices for room service– I can’t envision there are lots of locations in the city that make you feel much better looked after.

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Hey - Pat from StarterStory.com here with another interview.Today's interview is with Elizabeth Grojean (u/Eliz008) of Baloo Living, a brand that makes luxury weighted blanketsSome stats:Product: Luxury Weighted BlanketsRevenue/mo: $100,000Started: April 2018Location: New York CityFounders: 1Employees: 2Hello! Who are you and what business did you start?Baloo Living is asleep and wellness company launched from Bali in 2018. Our signature product is a weighted blanket, an incredible tool for calming the nervous system with gentle pressure, similar to the way being hugged or held makes us feel naturally comforted. These blankets have been used for decades by therapists and are only now going mainstream as people discover just how powerful they can be for improving sleep and soothing anxiety--without the use of medication.It’s exciting to be bringing a product to market that does so much good and only beginning to reach critical mass. The market for weighted blankets is exploding - currently, on Amazon, there are millions of dollars in sales monthly, and we know that e-commerce generally represents 10% of retail sales in the US. We reached six figures in our third month, and seven figures after our first holiday season before even a year has passed! Baloo took off like crazy, partly because we stand for the highest product quality, customer service, and thoughtful design.imageWhat's your backstory and how did you come up with the idea?In 2017 I quit my job in marketing and publishing in New York City and booked a one-way flight to Bali. I was completely burned out and confused about the direction of my life. I’d been working so hard, yet felt unfulfilled. In the process of leaving every familiar security behind, I came to understand that I’d been looking for wholeness through external validation. In the first weeks without a title, company, or convenient identity, I felt completely naked. Over the course of weeks that then became months, I softened my external cover and started to discover what life could be like when there’s nothing to prove, nothing to justify, and no one to impress; the experience of being enough, satisfied and happy, just because, was the greatest and most beautiful discovery!I came back to New York City feeling so good and got smacked in the face with reverse culture shock. I tried to go back to life as I’d known it, but I had changed so much, I could never go back to working in an office for someone else. I’d spent almost all of my savings and had just a few thousand dollars left, but made the difficult decision to choose the path of uncertainty and risk, and go back to Bali with no income, with the intention of launching a business that I could run remotely and independently. In Bali, I met so many people running businesses while traveling, and I knew the secret to learning was to be surrounded by a community of kind people who could teach me.Back in Bali, I quickly went through an online course to launch a brand through Amazon FBA. Through product research, I discovered weighted blankets, and less than a week later, booked a flight to visit with suppliers and pick up samples. The moment I tried my sample weighted blanket for the first time, everything changed--I fell in love with the surprising, deeply relaxing sensation that crept in. At that moment, this business went from a project to a passion; the miracle of our bodies to self regulate and heal when given a nurturing environment is amazing to me.Baloo Living is a product company standing for respect for the body’s wisdom and gentle self-care and comfort. I was inspired to share the experience I had of reconnecting with myself by escaping to Bali with the rest of the world who can’t take the time to travel but can take a few minutes for quiet time with a Baloo blanket to find stillness and peace within.imageAt my home office in Ubud, Bali, Spring 2019Take us through the process of designing, prototyping, and manufacturing your first product.Right away, I knew that I could improve on the products being offered in the market. The blankets I saw were either made of synthetic materials or low-quality cotton. Baloo is made using a very soft, premium cotton that feels luxurious as soon as you take it out of the box. It’s heavy but super breathable and cool, so it can be used all year round because good sleep should not be seasonal!Baloo also uses a lower profile batting because the thinner the blanket, the more finely the glass microbeads inside contour the body, giving a more immediate, grounding feel. We also eliminated plastic from our packaging, and we only use materials certified by the Oeko-Tex Standard 100, which means free of chemicals, clean and safe. Finally, we include a small gift--a link to Tibetan and crystal bowl recordings, which have been shown to help the mind and body relax.Despite the best product design, our first order hit some snags. The inspection report came back with a failing grade, just one week before the Chinese New Year. Factories close for the entire month, so I had to pause the shipment and wait before I could visit the factory personally to inspect the order. We sorted through each piece and eliminated almost twenty percent of the pieces that were damaged. The experience taught me to know the production process very well, and also gave me peace of mind to know that each blanket we shipped was perfect.Since then, I’ve found a new manufacturing partner who is incredible to work with. The prices are higher but the facility is sparkling clean, the management team is excellent, and I can sleep at night knowing our products meet the highest standards.This is a photo of my sister Kimberly and a friend tying ribbons around our product inserts at a coworking space in Ubud, Bali. I hand-carried the inserts to the factory, where we inserted them as we inspected each blanket:imageDescribe the process of launching the business.I launched Baloo through Amazon initially. We shot beautiful photography at a villa in Bali and optimized the listing for the best keywords. The first order came within a day, and I can’t describe the joy at seeing it! Soon, we were selling three to six weighted blankets a day, and I didn’t think I could stand it--it was beyond my wildest dreams to have a product that someone would exchange money for!The first person who contacted us for a return made me so sad; I was in Bali, and I arranged for a courier to pick the box up from the woman’s apartment building in Manhattan and deliver it to my sister’s for safekeeping. The courier cost $40! It’s so funny looking back, but I feel a personal connection to each customer, and want people to be well taken care of.For the first few months, sales were made only on Amazon, but as the holidays neared, I reached out to a PR firm to help us with placements in gift guides. PR takes a couple of months at least, as the editors need time to learn about your brand and work it into their editorial calendars. Fortunately, we got an unexpected piece of the press just at the end of November when New York Magazine’s The Strategist named us the “Best weighted blanket to gift” - in just two days our website, balooliving.com, was flooded with orders and we completely sold out of our entire Q4 stock.We had hundreds of people emailing us to be put on the waiting list, and at this point, I was the only person doing customer service! I called my mom and asked her if she could stop what she was doing and help me respond to emails. She worked with me for the entire month of December and we started to take pre-orders for January delivery.Now, my mom is a permanent member of our customer service team and answers our phones to help customers decide which blankets to order. Her background is in mental health and counseling and she’s a certified life coach, so I couldn’t imagine anyone better prepared to take care of our customers.Now that we are a year and a half in business, we have received a number of accolades and high profile reviews, and the press is one of the main drivers of our website sales. We also invest in organic SEO, Google shopping ads and paid search. Our channels have shifted so that Amazon represents a bit under half of our sales with the rest from our website and select partners like Macy’s, Verishop, and The Grommet.imageBaloo’s operations and fulfillment team - Sean Zhang, Hasimew Jallow, Nancy Grojean, Elizabeth Grojean, Benjo BoteSince launch, what has worked to attract and retain customers?I believe it’s a combination of touchpoints that help us build and maintain a relationship with customers. The unboxing experience, which is the moment of the first impression with our physical product, can’t be overemphasized. That’s why we made the move to pack our blankets in a reusable cotton dust bag, and tie the product inserts with a ribbon. So much care has gone into the product and the brand, that we do everything we can to deliver that experience to the customer.Email and social media are the other ways we stay in touch. While we take a restrained approach to discounts and promotions, we do offer discounts at key gifting times, and we find that once someone has tried the blanket, they want to share it with friends and family members, so it makes a natural gift. So while it’s not a consumable product, we do see anywhere from 15-20% of our customers are returning customers.How are you doing today and what does the future look like?I’m committed to running a lean and bootstrapped company. It makes things harder in some ways but also keeps us creative. In addition to our original weighted blanket, we now offer a smaller size (the Mini Baloo), duvet covers, and French linen pillowcases. We are launching a new product right before Black Friday that I can’t yet reveal, and turning on global shipping, which will help us gauge interest in markets outside the United States.One of our greatest opportunities lies in the heart and story of our brand, so we will be looking for new ways to share that, and connect with people on an emotional level; through Facebook ads and organic content, plus videos on-site and in email.I have several product ideas that I’m so excited to launch and will plan for next year. These will help us build a stronger foundation as a brand that stands for comfort and self-care. We’re also looking for ways to grow our giveback to our nonprofit partners: the Pajama Program, which gives children and their caregivers’ tools for building reassuring bedtime routines; and Carbonfund.org Foundation, to offset our carbon footprint. We're also looking to do more for the environment through corporate givebacks, such as giving a percentage of our sales to the Rainforest Alliance, which we did for a time.After spending a couple of years in Bali, I’m really excited to be back in New York City and meeting so many inspiring entrepreneurs and creative people. I’m challenged every day and can’t wait to see what happens next!imageThrough starting the business, have you learned anything particularly helpful or advantageous?Be thoughtful about engaging consultants or agencies. I’ve made the mistake of rushing forward into contracts with a person or team because I’m impatient and want things to move forward, but it’s far more efficient to take the time to make sure the person or company is the right fit.But, hire experts! It will quickly reach the point when you cannot take the time to learn everything yourself and cheap freelancers can also waste time. When you bring someone on who is a true expert, make sure they’re open to explaining their thought process or methods with you, so you can learn from them while they support your project.What platform/tools do you use for your business?Our website is built on Shopify and we’ve just launched with Shopify Fulfillment Network to the warehouse and fulfill orders from the East Coast. I’m excited to see how the faster shipping speeds to the East Coast improve our conversion rates.Border Guru is a great service that our west coast fulfillment center uses to calculate duties and shipping at checkout for international orders. This means the customer isn’t surprised with a customs bill upon delivery.I use FreeeUp to find high-quality freelance help which comes vetted (unlike Upwork). I also hear that Jobrack.eu is quite good but I have not yet used it, it’s primarily for sourcing technical talent from Eastern Europe.Our team communicates throughout the day on Slack, our headquarters is in New York, and we have team members in San Diego, Denver, North Carolina, Barcelona, New Jersey, and Austin, so we try to have video calls every two weeks to connect and share updates as a team.Brexhas helped us manage our cash flow, allowing us to borrow cash for 60 days with no fees or interest.Transferwise has made it easy to send money without paying wire fees.We use Klaviyo for email because it is powerful segmenting lists and creating user journeys.Orderly Emails is an app that saved us a lot of time, it allows you to synch the design of your Shopify store’s automatic emails all at once, versus updating each template.What have been the most influential books, podcasts, or other resources?Power vs. Force by Sir. David R. Hawkins examines human behavior and the fundamental access to the truthfulness or falsehood of any statement or supposed fact. This, I find most interesting in honing the ability to read situations and my own motivations and decisions, as I try to move forward with integrity and awareness.I’m a big fan of Dr. Joe Dispenza, and most recently read Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself, which helps me expand my thinking outside my familiar bounds.I love Shopify’s podcast, Shopify Masters, which hosts a wide variety of e-commerce business owners with different business models, goals, and strategies. I learn something from each episode, no matter the guest’s background.I find belonging to groups and attending events to be extremely valuable for building and growing a supportive network. I recommend AMZ Innovate in New York City each September for Amazon sellers, and Digital Marketing Skill Share (DMSS) in Bali each October for diverse digital marketing tactics. I’m a member of Dynamite Circle, which is for all digital entrepreneurs, not only product-based businesses, and I participate with the NYC Fair Trade Coalition to stay abreast of innovations in sustainability, textiles, and sourcing.I always recommend getting involved with groups or organizations in your space, either in person or online; one small insight or learning can pay off exponentially against the time or money invested.Advice for other entrepreneurs who want to get started or are just starting out?Know that no one knows what they’re doing, especially gurus. Each person’s business is unique and comes as a result of timing, effort, circumstances and luck, and the future is always changing. I suggest educating yourself as much as possible, be it through webinars, books, courses, or any other resource, but take action quickly, even in small ways, to make the jump from conceptual thinking to practical application. You will learn SO much through doing, and even a small step might feel irrationally scary at the time, especially if you’re challenging your self-imposed limits or ideas about what you “should” do or beliefs about the “way things are done.”The BEST piece of advice I took was to list a product for sale on Amazon that was a small test product. The process of creating a barcode, labeling the product, shipping it to FBA, writing the listing, and then actually selling the product gave me confidence. Even if I lost money, the experience of taking each step was well worth it. In the end, I found something that made $300 a month, which was a huge victory!Last but not least, find people who understand and support what you’re trying to do. It’s hard enough to believe in yourself when you’re doing something for the first time, so do yourself a favor and put people around you who can believe in you, when you don’t.Where can we go to learn more?WebsiteInstagramElizabeth’s InstagramElizabeth’s LinkedinIf you have any questions or comments, drop a comment below!Liked this text interview? Check out the full interview with photos, tools, books, and other data.For more interviews, check out r/starter_story - I post new stories there daily.Interested in sharing your own story? Send me a PM

[sheminecrafts]

Reminder: Other people’s lives are not fodder for your feeds

#PlaneBae

You should cringe when you read that hashtag. Because it’s a reminder that people are being socially engineered by technology platforms to objectify and spy on each other for voyeuristic pleasure and profit.

The short version of the story attached to the cringeworthy hashtag is this: Earlier this month an individual, called Rosey Blair, spent all the hours of a plane flight using her smartphone and social media feeds to invade the privacy of her seat neighbors — publicly gossiping about the lives of two strangers.

Her speculation was set against a backdrop of rearview creepshots, with a few barely there scribbles added to blot out actual facial features. Even as an entire privacy invading narrative was being spun unknowingly around them.

#PlanePrivacyInvasion would be a more fitting hashtag. Or #MoralVacuumAt35000ft

And yet our youthful surveillance society started with a far loftier idea associated with it: Citizen journalism.

Once we’re all armed with powerful smartphones and ubiquitously fast Internet there will be no limits to the genuinely important reportage that will flow, we were told.

There will be no way for the powerful to withhold the truth from the people.

At least that was the nirvana we were sold.

What did we get? Something that looks much closer to mass manipulation. A tsunami of ad stalking, intentionally fake news and social media-enabled demagogues expertly appropriating these very same tools by gamifying mind-less, ethically nil algorithms.

Meanwhile, masses of ordinary people + ubiquitous smartphones + omnipresent social media feeds seems, for the most part, to be resulting in a kind of mainstream attention deficit disorder.

Yes, there is citizen journalism — such as people recording and broadcasting everyday experiences of aggression, racism and sexism, for example. Experiences that might otherwise go unreported, and which are definitely underreported.

That is certainly important.

But there are also these telling moments of #hashtaggable ethical blackout. As a result of what? Let’s call it the lure of ‘citizen clickbait’ — as people use their devices and feeds to mimic the worst kind of tabloid celebrity gossip ‘journalism’ by turning their attention and high tech tools on strangers, with (apparently) no major motivation beyond the simple fact that they can. Because technology is enabling them.

Social norms and common courtesy should kick in and prevent this. But social media is pushing in an unequal and opposite direction, encouraging users to turn anything — even strangers’ lives — into raw material to be repackaged as ‘content’ and flung out for voyeuristic entertainment.

It’s life reflecting commerce. But a particularly insidious form of commerce that does not accept editorial let alone ethical responsibility, has few (if any) moral standards, and relies, for continued function, upon stripping away society’s collective sense of privacy in order that these self-styled ‘sharing’ (‘taking’ is closer to the mark) platforms can swell in size and profit.

But it’s even worse than that. Social media as a data-mining, ad-targeting enterprise relies upon eroding our belief in privacy. So these platforms worry away at that by trying to disrupt our understanding of what privacy means. Because if you were to consider what another person thinks or feels — even for a millisecond — you might not post whatever piece of ‘content’ you had in mind.

For the platforms it’s far better if you just forget to think.

Facebook’s business is all about applying engineering ingenuity to eradicate the thoughtful friction of personal and societal conscience.

That’s why, for instance, it uses facial recognition technology to automate content identification — meaning there’s almost no opportunity for individual conscience to kick in and pipe up to quietly suggest that publicly tagging others in a piece of content isn’t actually the right thing to do.

Because it’s polite to ask permission first.

But Facebook’s antisocial automation pushes people away from thinking to ask for permission. There’s no button provided for that. The platform encourages us to forget all about the existence of common courtesies.

So we should not be at all surprised that such fundamental abuses of corporate power are themselves trickling down to infect the people who use and are exposed to these platforms’ skewed norms.

Viral episodes like #PlaneBae demonstrate that the same sense of entitlement to private information is being actively passed onto the users these platforms prey on and feed off — and is then getting beamed out, like radiation, to harm the people around them.

The damage is collective when societal norms are undermined.

#PlaneBae

Social media’s ubiquity means almost everyone works in marketing these days. Most people are marketing their own lives — posting photos of their pets, their kids, the latte they had this morning, the hipster gym where they work out — having been nudged to perform this unpaid labor by the platforms that profit from it.

The irony is that most of this work is being done for free. Only the platforms are being paid. Though there are some people making a very modern living; the new breed of ‘life sharers’ who willingly polish, package and post their professional existence as a brand of aspiration lifestyle marketing.

Social media’s gift to the world is that anyone can be a self-styled model now, and every passing moment a fashion shoot for hire — thanks to the largess of highly accessible social media platforms providing almost anyone who wants it with their own self-promoting shopwindow in the world. Plus all the promotional tools they could ever need.

Just step up to the glass and shoot.

And then your vacation beauty spot becomes just another backdrop for the next aspirational selfie. Although those aquamarine waters can’t be allowed to dampen or disrupt photo-coifed tresses, nor sand get in the camera kit. In any case, the makeup took hours to apply and there’s the next selfie to take…

What does the unchronicled life of these professional platform performers look like? A mess of preparation for projecting perfection, presumably, with life’s quotidian business stuffed higgledy piggledy into the margins — where they actually sweat and work to deliver the lie of a lifestyle dream.

Because these are also fakes — beautiful fakes, but fakes nonetheless.

We live in an age of entitled pretence. And while it may be totally fine for an individual to construct a fictional narrative that dresses up the substance of their existence, it’s certainly not okay to pull anyone else into your pantomime. Not without asking permission first.

But the problem is that social media is now so powerfully omnipresent its center of gravity is actively trying to pull everyone in — and its antisocial impacts frequently spill out and over the rest of us. And they rarely if ever ask for consent.

What about the people who don’t want their lives to be appropriated as digital windowdressing? Who weren’t asking for their identity to be held up for public consumption? Who don’t want to participate in this game at all — neither to personally profit from it, nor to have their privacy trampled by it?

The problem is the push and pull of platforms against privacy has become so aggressive, so virulent, that societal norms that protect and benefit us all — like empathy, like respect — are getting squeezed and sucked in.

The ugliness is especially visible in these ‘viral’ moments when other people’s lives are snatched and consumed voraciously on the hoof — as yet more content for rapacious feeds.

#PlaneBae

Think too of the fitness celebrity who posted a creepshot + commentary about a less slim person working out at their gym.

Or the YouTuber parents who monetize videos of their kids’ distress.

Or the men who post creepshots of women eating in public — and try to claim it’s an online art project rather than what it actually is: A privacy violation and misogynistic attack.

Or, on a public street in London one day, I saw a couple of giggling teenage girls watching a man at a bus stop who was clearly mentally unwell. Pulling out a smartphone, one girl hissed to the other: “We’ve got to put this on YouTube.”

For platforms built by technologists without thought for anything other than growth, everything is a potential spectacle. Everything is a potential post.

So they press on their users to think less. And they profit at society’s expense.

It’s only now, after social media has embedded itself everywhere, that platforms are being called out for their moral vacuum; for building systems that encourage abject mindlessness in users — and serve up content so bleak it represents a form of visual cancer.

#PlaneBae

Human have always told stories. Weaving our own narratives is both how we communicate and how we make sense of personal experience — creating order out of events that are often disorderly, random, even chaotic.

The human condition demands a degree of pattern-spotting for survival’s sake; so we can pick our individual path out of the gloom.

But platforms are exploiting that innate aspect of our character. And we, as individuals, need to get much, much better at spotting what they’re doing to us.

We need to recognize how they are manipulating us; what they are encouraging us to do — with each new feature nudge and dark pattern design choice.

We need to understand their underlying pull. The fact they profit by setting us as spies against each other. We need to wake up, personally and collectively, to social media’s antisocial impacts.

Perspective should not have to come at the expense of other people getting hurt.

Additionally, I’ve not earned anything off of this. And do not wish to. The greatest gift I’ve been given – when I shouldn’t have received anything to begin with – is perspective.

— Rosey Blair (@roseybeeme) July 10, 2018

This week the women whose privacy was thoughtlessly repackaged as public entertainment when she was branded and broadcast as #PlaneBae — and who has suffered harassment and yet more unwelcome attention as a direct result — gave a statement to Business Insider.

“#PlaneBae is not a romance — it is a digital-age cautionary tale about privacy, identity, ethics and consent,” she writes. “Please continue to respect my privacy, and my desire to remain anonymous.”

And as a strategy to push against the antisocial incursions of social media, remembering to respect people’s privacy is a great place to start.

from iraidajzsmmwtv https://ift.tt/2mgaCw8 via IFTTT

[technicalsolutions88]

#PlaneBae

You should cringe when you read that hashtag. Because it’s a reminder that people are being socially engineered by technology platforms to objectify and spy on each other for voyeuristic pleasure and profit.

The short version of the story attached to the cringeworthy hashtag is this: Earlier this month an individual, called Rosey Blair, spent all the hours of a plane flight using her smartphone and social media feeds to invade the privacy of her seat neighbors — publicly gossiping about the lives of two strangers.

Her speculation was set against a backdrop of rearview creepshots, with a few barely there scribbles added to blot out actual facial features. Even as an entire privacy invading narrative was being spun unknowingly around them.

#PlanePrivacyInvasion would be a more fitting hashtag. Or #MoralVacuumAt35000ft

And yet our youthful surveillance society started with a far loftier idea associated with it: Citizen journalism.

Once we’re all armed with powerful smartphones and ubiquitously fast Internet there will be no limits to the genuinely important reportage that will flow, we were told.

There will be no way for the powerful to withhold the truth from the people.

At least that was the nirvana we were sold.

What did we get? Something that looks much closer to mass manipulation. A tsunami of ad stalking, intentionally fake news and social media-enabled demagogues expertly appropriating these very same tools by gamifying mind-less, ethically nil algorithms.

Meanwhile, masses of ordinary people + ubiquitous smartphones + omnipresent social media feeds seems, for the most part, to be resulting in a kind of mainstream attention deficit disorder.

Yes, there is citizen journalism — such as people recording and broadcasting everyday experiences of aggression, racism and sexism, for example. Experiences that might otherwise go unreported, and which are definitely underreported.

That is certainly important.

But there are also these telling moments of #hashtaggable ethical blackout. As a result of what? Let’s call it the lure of ‘citizen clickbait’ — as people use their devices and feeds to mimic the worst kind of tabloid celebrity gossip ‘journalism’ by turning their attention and high tech tools on strangers, with (apparently) no major motivation beyond the simple fact that they can. Because technology is enabling them.

Social norms and common courtesy should kick in and prevent this. But social media is pushing in an unequal and opposite direction, encouraging users to turn anything — even strangers’ lives — into raw material to be repackaged as ‘content’ and flung out for voyeuristic entertainment.

It’s life reflecting commerce. But a particularly insidious form of commerce that does not accept editorial let alone ethical responsibility, has few (if any) moral standards, and relies, for continued function, upon stripping away society’s collective sense of privacy in order that these self-styled ‘sharing’ (‘taking’ is closer to the mark) platforms can swell in size and profit.

But it’s even worse than that. Social media as a data-mining, ad-targeting enterprise relies upon eroding our belief in privacy. So these platforms worry away at that by trying to disrupt our understanding of what privacy means. Because if you were to consider what another person thinks or feels — even for a millisecond — you might not post whatever piece of ‘content’ you had in mind.

For the platforms it’s far better if you just forget to think.

Facebook’s business is all about applying engineering ingenuity to eradicate the thoughtful friction of personal and societal conscience.

That’s why, for instance, it uses facial recognition technology to automate content identification — meaning there’s almost no opportunity for individual conscience to kick in and pipe up to quietly suggest that publicly tagging others in a piece of content isn’t actually the right thing to do.

Because it’s polite to ask permission first.

But Facebook’s antisocial automation pushes people away from thinking to ask for permission. There’s no button provided for that. The platform encourages us to forget all about the existence of common courtesies.

So we should not be at all surprised that such fundamental abuses of corporate power are themselves trickling down to infect the people who use and are exposed to these platforms’ skewed norms.

Viral episodes like #PlaneBae demonstrate that the same sense of entitlement to private information is being actively passed onto the users these platforms prey on and feed off — and is then getting beamed out, like radiation, to harm the people around them.

The damage is collective when societal norms are undermined.

#PlaneBae

Social media’s ubiquity means almost everyone works in marketing these days. Most people are marketing their own lives — posting photos of their pets, their kids, the latte they had this morning, the hipster gym where they work out — having been nudged to perform this unpaid labor by the platforms that profit from it.

The irony is that most of this work is being done for free. Only the platforms are being paid. Though there are some people making a very modern living; the new breed of ‘life sharers’ who willingly polish, package and post their professional existence as a brand of aspiration lifestyle marketing.

Social media’s gift to the world is that anyone can be a self-styled model now, and every passing moment a fashion shoot for hire — thanks to the largess of highly accessible social media platforms providing almost anyone who wants it with their own self-promoting shopwindow in the world. Plus all the promotional tools they could ever need.

Just step up to the glass and shoot.

And then your vacation beauty spot becomes just another backdrop for the next aspirational selfie. Although those aquamarine waters can’t be allowed to dampen or disrupt photo-coifed tresses, nor sand get in the camera kit. In any case, the makeup took hours to apply and there’s the next selfie to take…

What does the unchronicled life of these professional platform performers look like? A mess of preparation for projecting perfection, presumably, with life’s quotidian business stuffed higgledy piggledy into the margins — where they actually sweat and work to deliver the lie of a lifestyle dream.

Because these are also fakes — beautiful fakes, but fakes nonetheless.

We live in an age of entitled pretence. And while it may be totally fine for an individual to construct a fictional narrative that dresses up the substance of their existence, it’s certainly not okay to pull anyone else into your pantomime. Not without asking permission first.

But the problem is that social media is now so powerfully omnipresent its center of gravity is actively trying to pull everyone in — and its antisocial impacts frequently spill out and over the rest of us. And they rarely if ever ask for consent.

What about the people who don’t want their lives to be appropriated as digital windowdressing? Who weren’t asking for their identity to be held up for public consumption? Who don’t want to participate in this game at all — neither to personally profit from it, nor to have their privacy trampled by it?

The problem is the push and pull of platforms against privacy has become so aggressive, so virulent, that societal norms that protect and benefit us all — like empathy, like respect — are getting squeezed and sucked in.

The ugliness is especially visible in these ‘viral’ moments when other people’s lives are snatched and consumed voraciously on the hoof — as yet more content for rapacious feeds.

#PlaneBae

Think too of the fitness celebrity who posted a creepshot + commentary about a less slim person working out at their gym.

Or the YouTuber parents who monetize videos of their kids’ distress.

Or the men who post creepshots of women eating in public — and try to claim it’s an online art project rather than what it actually is: A privacy violation and misogynistic attack.

Or, on a public street in London one day, I saw a couple of giggling teenage girls watching a man at a bus stop who was clearly mentally unwell. Pulling out a smartphone, one girl hissed to the other: “We’ve got to put this on YouTube.”

For platforms built by technologists without thought for anything other than growth, everything is a potential spectacle. Everything is a potential post.

So they press on their users to think less. And they profit at society’s expense.

It’s only now, after social media has embedded itself everywhere, that platforms are being called out for their moral vacuum; for building systems that encourage abject mindlessness in users — and serve up content so bleak it represents a form of visual cancer.

#PlaneBae

Human have always told stories. Weaving our own narratives is both how we communicate and how we make sense of personal experience — creating order out of events that are often disorderly, random, even chaotic.

The human condition demands a degree of pattern-spotting for survival’s sake; so we can pick our individual path out of the gloom.

But platforms are exploiting that innate aspect of our character. And we, as individuals, need to get much, much better at spotting what they’re doing to us.

We need to recognize how they are manipulating us; what they are encouraging us to do — with each new feature nudge and dark pattern design choice.

We need to understand their underlying pull. The fact they profit by setting us as spies against each other. We need to wake up, personally and collectively, to social media’s antisocial impacts.

Perspective should not have to come at the expense of other people getting hurt.

Additionally, I’ve not earned anything off of this. And do not wish to. The greatest gift I’ve been given – when I shouldn’t have received anything to begin with – is perspective.

— Rosey Blair (@roseybeeme) July 10, 2018

This week the women whose privacy was thoughtlessly repackaged as public entertainment when she was branded and broadcast as #PlaneBae — and who has suffered harassment and yet more unwelcome attention as a direct result — gave a statement to Business Insider.

“#PlaneBae is not a romance — it is a digital-age cautionary tale about privacy, identity, ethics and consent,” she writes. “Please continue to respect my privacy, and my desire to remain anonymous.”

And as a strategy to push against the antisocial incursions of social media, remembering to respect people’s privacy is a great place to start.

from Social – TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2mgaCw8 Original Content From: https://techcrunch.com

[aurimeanswind]

Podcast Sunday—Sunday Chats (2-12-17)

If you were unaware, I got very drunk last night on stream for the entertainment of the masses. That stream has been archived forever for the enjoyment of all, and if you missed it:

I played a great deal of Nioh, which is quite fun, chatted with many friends, and killed an entire bottle of wine, which is a lot for sha’boy over here.

I’ve been streaming a good deal more recently, starting two weeks ago by playing the Division with friends, which returned this week, in addition to the two Nioh streams I did and that fun Resident Evil LP! It’s been a good deal of fun, though I still need to get the ExtraLife stream uploaded over on YouTube and whatnot. We’ll see.

I don’t really have an editorial for today, because my life is weird now and I don’t have school and nothing really major happened in my life this week.

Some news then.

PAX East 2017

GET READY FOR PAX! Oh boy. We got all of our materials submitted and we were approved for badges for PAX East next month. Doing some BnB booking and getting emotionally prepared to fly to Boston, Nintendo Switch in-hand, and that’s all quite exciting.

We are bringing a big, five-person team this year, and I am extremely excited to see what me and the team can do. This is the second time ever a full editorial team is joining me at PAX, with previous years it just being the podcast crew or just myself and Tony.

We’re gonna do some killer work, and I’m very excited and proud of my team. If you’re going, please come say hi to any of the five of us! If you’re wearing an Irrational Passions shirt, you will get hugged!

What’s on Tap

It’s weird because I have yet to podcast this week (doing it right after this, pretty much) so I haven’t gotten to unload on some games yet. I’ll try and keep it brief.

Resident Evil VII

Finished it pretty much right after I finished Sunday Chats last week.

I had far more left than I expected.

Game is fantastic! Loved it.

The pacing is really incredible, and the ending part was super awesome, i felt. Game just got better and better, through to the end.

Tales of Berseria

HOLY CRAP THIS GAME IS SO GOOD.

Legimitmately blown away by how much I love and adore ToB.

Female protagonist is awesome, the set up is awesome, it’s still very much Tales and if you don’t like that than you won’t like this, but this is some of the best execution of the formula, with really great and smart changes, that it brings the series back for me in a big way.

The best in the franchise since Vesperia, hands down.

I love it.

Nioh

Ya know, Nioh is in no way a surprise, but I do love it.

The give and take of combat is awesome, the active-reload to the stamina mechanic is awesome, and the look and feel of the game is awesome.

I’ve definitely talked about it enough in the past, but the final game is wonderful, and I can’t wait to play more. Berseria is taking up most of my time though.

For Honor (Beta)

It’s good to have a firm grasp on what For Honor is, finally.

It is very similar to the pacing of Dark Souls, true to its final execution too, in that things move far faster than I initially anticipated.

Killing dudes feels super great, I played one match, I killed a bunch of people, we won, and I had fun.

It’s just another multiplayer game that I just do not want to invest or commit any time to, and as curious as I’d be to see what the single player offerings for the game are, I just have no draw to it right now.

Questions

I don’t know yet. I want to. We’ll see.

If I can get approved as press, it’s possible, but that show may end up being a bit too close to KFL3 than I can afford, and that may prevent me from going, because I apparently have to go to KFL3. I don’t think it’d be allowed for me not to go.

No.

God do I think that movie is dumb. My roommate loves it, at least.

I mean honestly I feel like Snapchat covered a lot of those gaps. I finished that glass of red wine that I had started on stream. Re-corked it and put it back in the fridge. I talked to my roommates a bit. I was very drunk.

I sent some text messages. A lot of them. Very affectionate, like I always get when I’m drunk. Thank god I didn’t send any texts to certain people on my phone. Oh that would have been bad. I rolled over and passed out. I haven’t gotten that drunk in a good long while. That was much drunker than I ever got at PSX. Whooooooo boy.

Definitely a tough question. Obviously all my scripts for Alex Talks sit pretty high on that list. I think they’re very indicative of my personality and capture who I am, how I speak, and my biggest strengths as a writer. Some of the ones I’ve been working on recently that haven’t been shot yet I am quite fond of.

Those also challenge me a great deal. I’ve been having so much trouble writing for the new format of that show because I have so many visual things I want to do that I know I am incapable of doing, but it’s nice to have that challenge to look forward to.

All of my audio features I am very proud of. Those were super fun and having gone back to listen to all of them recently, I think they’re all fantastic. 

I’ve barely written any reviews as of late but my Firewatch review is an all time favorite.

Of all of that, the Twilit Ghost Town and Growing up with a Generation pieces are probably at the top with all five Alex Talks episodes.

More to come, obviously.

OH! And Sunday Chats. Fond of these things. <3

How about a fucking Metroid game Nintendo?

But seriously, Pikmin would be great, even though that franchise isn’t lost, let’s say. But I did not like Pikmin 3, so another shot at that could be cool. I don’t know in any way it could capitalize on the features of the system, but I don’t know what features to use as well as I will in what, like three weeks? Holy shit.

I’m not really sure. Weirdly enough Castlevania is something that comes to mind. A 2D Castlevania game back on a Nintendo console would be cool. And to take it on the go would fit with some of those great handheld ones released over the last few years.

It depends on what you need. For photo, Photoshop is 10 bucks a month, which I know tons of creators hate now, but you can’t beat that price as a junior photo editor. I pay it, and it’s incredibly helpful for thumbnails and feature images on the site and all.

For audio, I started with GarageBand. I know thats Mac-only, which is a hard sell for some, but that’s a great one to use. Audacity is free and can totally get the job done. Its UI is pretty godawful but it’s pretty easy to grasp when you know where everything is. I think you can access adobe audition for free as well? I don’t know for sure.

Video is tricky. Premiere is the way to go, but obviously that aint cheap. It’s either another $20 a month with photoshop, or $50 a month for the whole Creative Cloud suite. That sucks. Sony Vegas? iMovie? Those are both free on PC/Mac respective? I have used iMovie and don’t like it so much, but I’ve never touched Sony Vegas. Looks like a nightmare to me.

Start there and see what you like and what you fall into.

SO LIT

Haha, I was definitely hungover.

AND YEAH PAX EAST WOOOOOO

I woke up at 8 this morning with some hardcore spins going on. My stomach was fine, luckily, and it was not the worst case of the spins that I’ve been through. I drank a fuckton of water, took three ibuprofen, and laid back down to sleep.

It sucked, but not so bad. Again, most i had drunk in a good long while.

I made content for a long, long time before anyone cared. Hell, only the last year or two has anyone actually really cared about Irrational Passions. We’d have a few folks latch on, come and go, but it would always be temporary. It wasn’t until the writing team came on int 2014 before we really started stretching our wings.

It’s a give and take. I try and make stuff that I find interesting. Stuff I’m proud of. IP has always been my living portfolio first: I make the content for me, and expect no one to watch it, but when I apply to a games industry job in the future I can cite it as my experience. 

That’s it.

If you’re jumping into it expecting notoriety... Well, I just think you’re gonna be disappointed. Getting people to watch your stuff is one thing, but hell man, that engagement? There is so much stuff out on the internet for people to give a shit about before any of what I do, or anyone else does, and it’s typically far better produced, so people engaging with me is a big ask.

For stuff like that, I would maybe look to join someone else’s project or start a collaborative thing with other folks, so you have some kind of feed into itself, somewhere to get that attention from, and then build notoriety to break off and make your own stuff. That’s exactly what I’ve done here with Sunday Chats.

But that’s a hard question to answer.

Hi Roger. Thanks for writing in. Always glad to hear from a fan.

Calebs a good kid. Sometimes I wonder if he is too good? Like, maybe he should get out there and fuck some shit up. I don’t know. Smoke a doobie. Break some rules. Blow up a toilet.

I’m a terrible influence.

Y’all are good boys and I love you two. <3

Fuck you. Fuck all of this. Fuck Waluigi. Not literally.

Shoutout 

Shoutout to the writing team at IrrationalPassions.com. They’ve been killing it was great articles all week. Been a ton of work to edit them, but they’re truly excellent. Wroth a look!

http://irrationalpassions.com

Well, as tired as fuck as I am, and still slightly hungover, time to go record a podcast. Maybe I should just drunk more wine, eh?

[rozchaineyartist]

Original Draft with Research for my Video

Bethan and Ki’s project

Due in 15th December

Impossible Conversations

Paul Klee

SECOND DRAFT OF QUESTION ANSWERS

*camera pans in on Ki reading a book with “arty farty crap” on the front and a glass of wine, she takes her glasses off and goes “oh! I didn’t see you there”, puts the wine down next to a lucosade bottle with “fancy wine” written on it  camera shot* I’m lord hamilton slipper slapper the incredulous. Today on impossible conversations we have Paul Klee! *Paul Klee walks on* With his highly individual and eclectic style, influenced by many movements such as expressionism, cubism and surrealism. He is known for his intellectual and thought provoking quotes such as “Fish Magic”  

So Paul, when were you born and what kind of upbringing did you have? ...

I was born on the 18th of December 1879, a few days before Brahms premiered “tragic overture”. My father’s passion for music was extensive, but he never cared for this work, probably because of the tragedy he portrays so beautifully.  *takes a sip of tea out of an awful cheesy mug with puppies on or some shit* as *dribbles tea everywhere* a teenager my mind started to wonder to the visual arts, and i was lucky enough to be accepted into the academy of fine arts in Munich.

2. How old were you at the start of WW1, and what were you doing before the outbreak of the war? …

I was 35 when war was announced. My artistic breakthrough came through just before the war in 1914 actually, the aspect of colour engorged me so much i let it become part of me, i no longer chased after it, it has a hold on me forever. I delved head first into abstraction, to the distaste of my parents. I joined an editorial team that year of the journal “der blaue reiter” This is when i carried out my intense colour experimentation. “In the quarry” is a good example of this *cuts to paul showing a print out of in the quarry on the wall looking … seductive ;)*

3. What did you do during WW1? …

Unfortunately I was conscripted to view the horror of war with my own eyes. Germany’s young and talented were dying in the trenches.

4. Oh…. ok...um...Where were you when the war ended, what were you doing? …

I continued to paint! What else would i do? My career really took off in 1917 - if i can say myself, my work was going down a treat. I spent many weeks in my studio working on “ab ovo”, one of my personal favourites from this time. I used a chalk ground and watercolour. It creates a gorgeous texture.

6. What are your key interests and how do they influence your artwork?...

I believe that the material world is only one among many realities, as a window into that philosophical principle, i use my art. Music is also key, sometimes i even practice my violin to warm up, music and art go hand in hand for me. To me, the visual rhythms in drawing resemble that in music, i made sure my students at the Bauhaus knew that. Moreover, the art of children was highly influential to me, their lack of social boundaries is riveting.

Extra. Who are your favourite musicians?

I love the work of Bach, i also enjoy the work of morillo. I am a classically trained violinist  Thanks to my music teacher father. Sometimes i even play violin before i paint, as an almost “warm up” if you will. I even had an invitation to play with the Bern music association at aged 11, haha not to brag. I even married lily stumpf, the classically trained pianist in 1904, so i suppose you could say she is one of my favourite musicians haha *takes sip from mug and dribbles*

7. Who were your greatest artistic comrades in the years following WW1?...

Hans Goltz was always a great man to me, and a talented dealer in art, his gallery gave me alot of exposure. I was also very close to my comrades in Die Blaue Vier, Feininger and Von Jawlensky. We lectured and exhibited together, making us grow extremely close. I was also rather close with kandinsky after teaching with him in the Bauhaus after 1924

Extra. Explain Die Blaue Vier?...

To be honest, us four artists wanted to create a certain niche to label ourselves under so we could sell our work together, the colour blue just means so much to us. My artistic comrade Kandinsky did writings on the spiritual realms of colour, especially blue. Blue represents the unknown, what we can see but can’t touch, the sea, the sky.  We arranged blue four exhebitions in cities around the world and it was brilliant for our careers. To me the colour blue has such a deep and hypnotising quality to it and  i just REALLY LIKE THE COLOUR BLUE *camera aggressively pans in* I REALLY REALLY LIKE THE COLOUR BLUE *die blaue vier paintings fade onto face* both look at camera, bad jump cut

8. Who influenced you most in your work as an artist?...

The work of children, as i said before - it is so organic and un-tainted. It’s free of previous examples. I sometimes try to replicate.the untouched simplicity of a childs work in my own.  Me and children both have a love of intense colour. And of course, the work of my fellow bauhaus artists, my fellow teachers and the students whom which i learnt so much about myself from. And of course the expressionist who lived through the terrors of the war as did i and created something beautiful from it.  

9. What was your greatest achievement before 1935 or death?...

“Death and fire”, one of the last paintings i ever did, whilst i was painfully dying and my body was being eaten away. I am also proud of the people i have influenced during my years teaching in the Bauhaus, and movements i have helped pioneer such as Die Blaue Vier, and as i said, having exhibitions with my 3 comrades in many cities around the world. I lived through the suppression of hitler and was able to make successful art through it and after it.

10. Which art movement did you feel most attached to during the 1920s?...

I was most present in the Bauhaus at that time, teaching and having my work in exhibitions. I would say i was most attached to that movement. Yes expressionism and surrealism were happening around me, DADA and Art Deco, but i was most involved in the Bauhaus, i was most proactive there.

Extra. What happened to the Bauhaus? Why was your time so limited there and what did you learn from its demise? …

I learnt what real suppression felt like. I learnt how to feel anguish and pain in a different way then i had before, in 1933, the police turned up to the Bauhaus in Berlin after years of irritating and attempting to shut us down forever. Our beloved students were loaded up into trucks and driven away. Although, we must never underestimate the legacy of the Bauhaus, the ideas that spread to the USA, Russia, Ireland and many more.

11. What will your legacy be? …

My legacy will be my influence i’ve had on so many movements such as surrealism, expressionism and cubism. My legacy will be what i’ve passed down to the students in the Bauhaus. My legacy will be shared with all of these people and movements. My legacy will also be tied with the incredible legacy of the Bauhaus, and the story of the suppression and anguish we went through. My legacy will be of an honorable man who fought in the Great war, risking his life. A loving husband and father, *cuts to klee holding a baby or whatever* a great modern artist and colour theorist *slaps paint on paper* and a talented musician *cuts to something*

Thank you Paul Klee for joining us here on impossible Conversations! Join us next week when we interview vladimir tatlin, gary numan and the gorilla that plays drums in the cadburys advert

Cast:

Chair 1

Chair 2

Table 1

Bethan

Ki

[tenaciouscupcaketaco]

60 Newest Poems By Mario W. Vitale

Bio Of Mario William Vitale The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension: Mario William Vitale Biography I was born in 1970 Bristol hospital. A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success, As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act. Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church. In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood" Where I had the lead role as the Narrator, I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989, Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long, Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School, After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com Attempted plays: Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade, (His poetic aspirations had derived at 18 in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum) Attended Central Connecticut State University For Creative Writing: 1997 Next from 1989-1997 (Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry) , * Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ", (1998)Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland". Back with rave reviews! * (From 1999-2008: Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: (1999- Sent Editorial to: New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie; Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached, * 2000-2007: Magazine: (Catholic)Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset! 2008- Wrote poem entitled: (The Heavy Cross)to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy; (The Connecticut Poetry Society) * Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia Writers Quarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry. Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return, Thankfulness toward family and friends.(To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted? My contemporary artists include that of Ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and Carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry Having been a member since 2006, My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe. Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creative passion! The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a very positive light.) After experiencing a life transformation encounter.I had realized that poetry is my unique way to convey myself my work speaks from the heart with pure sentiments of though intact, As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform, My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing, Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com... I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979, Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine. My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts. Hope you can read my poetry. Sea Stacks skipped rocks through a stream today the opening of a brand new day its frame is in minor decay the bleached wood massed in bone piles, we pulled it from dark beach and built fire in a fenced clearing the posts' blunt stubs sank down the circled and were roofed by milled lumber dragged at one time to the coast We slept there Each morning the minus tide- weeds flowed it like hair swimming The starfish gripped rock, pastel, rough. Fish bones lay in sun Each noon the milk fog sank from cloud cover, came in our clothes and held them tighter on us. Sea stacks stood and disappeared They came back when the sun scrubbed out the inlet Life Force through the flame cover me in silent sound dignity for with what one is willing to achieve valiantly feel the breeze nestled through the trees shaped through your dreams a piercing of the skin new hearts to begin again Choices Many have a hard time understanding They live for self and that of society They are the walking dead yet they don't even know it Eyes with blackened spots having holes Viscous fangs with blood dripping off the side You share with them the truth They choose to run away & hide Yet deep inside they may still question Why am i here ? They can't even help you Cause they won't help themselves They are the scum of the land Much too afraid to stand among the son of man A bitter taste Do they want salt or sugar coated messages Positive reinforcement strengthens the heart Negativity kills it Each of us has been given a choice We must lend a helping hand with a voice All of us have been given a choice Now which pathway will you choose ? Emerald City There’ll be no unemployment in heaven. No worry about the next meal. There’ll be no bills to harass us, and thieves will not break in and steal. In heaven, we’ll have no need for money; Everything up there will be free. We’ll enjoy God’s unsearchable riches, and have unending security. I’m looking forward to heaven, that land that is fairer than day. Where all will be joy and gladness, and sorrow and care will flee away. Up there, no mean words will be spoken. Each heart will be filled with pure love. We’ll never be hurt or rejected, in the beautiful city above. There will be no disappointment or heartache. God will wipe all the tears from our eyes. No one will ever be lonely, and there’ll be no anguished good-byes. Up there, the love we have for each other, by each heart will be shared equally. And we’ll have all the things that we’ve longed for, and at last we will really be free Little Angel Hope springs a new On a cloud in heaven Stand a heavenly angel With mere beauty of crystalized light Golden emblems encrusted their frame Sweet songs drifting to a very faint whisper Eyes, hands & face A real message sent down to earth To care for those lonely souls all alone There beauty is a surprise to encounter Slipping through locked doors to appear Many have shed a tear to numb the inner pain Causing accidents not to happen They appear in the form of brightened miracles We see them with a heart all a glow Come to the birth of a new born baby Come to servicemen who just joined the navy You will see them at a graveyard setting Even among gamblers who do there betting There all around us you see For all of life is but a mystery These Flames I Live turn back the tear drop pillow I'm sick to my stomach suffering alone and hard piercing cavity of viscious fangs that bite illusive impulsive the rant These flames I live my right to forgive undercover beyond the means living in a land of mean barren sea a shot in the dark to light the spark many are left in rebellion what an incredible talent Vitale is he is the poet of all poets the moment you met him perfect ten a chick lying with her hens a quest... flaws and failures yes he wears Depends a trip to the zoo nothing new Laughter Laughter fills the scented air through days exposed the timeless hour of a loathsome mast expounded upon the cavity of debris develop a grateful heart that one may impart look close through a pillar of glass a vergence sea out beyond the interpass a halo with a song to help you get along the sight of a fawn on the lawn greed and materialism will crush out the light in your life penetration by the holy spirit a heart change has to happen one must be open to the message care for your brother help for your pale sister one ear on the floor a cause for more through fetters got it made to even out the score Unending Brigade I ask myself politely what resistance flowers here against love treaded lightly or losing lovingness dear? give cadence to the simple, for I gave ammunition to the laughter we should we ever falter the timeless whisper of happening golden nuggets of thought & inspiration braids my hair with a great deal of wear through the conclaves of love's fastened grip shadows block the vortex to aid its message The Dream Police they come to my head at the side of my bed they are enforcing my sleep give cadence to a treat a far from ports unknown like a dog without a bone giving tickets to be enforced every time I have a dream forces scream Of Time & Dreams Father's gold pocket watch measured heartbeats, times for surgery and the slow drip of an IV all else in his life was overture to main events, like birth and death of those the family never knew Steps from my childhood dreams to his were counted in places where treasure were wet pebbles and the pulse of life was seen in raindrops on the lake now the watch is mine, and i yearn to throw it like a pebble into the past, to see it skip and yield to places we never shared, like blue-green eddies near the shore and grasses curled by the win Yet, warming in my palm, the measurer of his days seems to sing the music of turning points where drying dreams meet others born anew, emerging through images of caring to rhythms more than metrical that i've yet to understand The Land Of Dreams When you fall asleep at night, your mind goes into an eerie flight You can open the gate with the key of thought, and don't have to do what you've been taught You sing, and dance, and prance all day and you act so happy and also gay You run in circles and run into the trees, and cut your elbows and scrape your knees But sometimes you open the wrong gate, and find yourself facing a terrible fate There are monsters, ghouls and also grouches, and then you wish you were on confortable couches And when you're done and almost through, your mind knows exactly what to do you go back through that eerie flight it may be day it may be night And when your mind comes back to you, you may wake up and have the flu You could leave for school very late, and find out that it's the wrong date And you could play outside in the streams but you will know that you entered "The Land Of Dreams." Old Crow Old crow Tired and lazy' against the day Dark skies Lost in blacks and whites and grays Howling north wind Sure takes a man's fight away Wastelands, A dreamer's home on his best day Hard rain Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade And talks cheap, But for the words of time they'll ave the last say Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say And the harvest is in, it wasn't much May I have enough to get by The baskets were light, not a muscle ached And somehow I feel I'm going to die The winter is coming and the signs say hard I've never seen such a haunting sky For on the mountains, frost in the wind And somehow I feel I'm going to die Full moon Lonely above the old oak tree line Old crow Hanging empty in the black sky And a nighthawk Circles her in silence as she flies Old crow, all alone she flies Pheonix the blazing glory of a loving night Disappears in the sun's bright morning light All efforts to recall that glorious pain Fade in the dawn to be sought in vain but the memory clings of precious glory that will not become an old, dull story instead that memory promises anew that love will spring forth and again renew with every joining of two loving souls again will emerge from the fading coals a love renewed by the glowing embers so that this night, too, will be remembered. Soul Search When I look into your eyes I see the sunshine and rain, The deeper I look and also see Various kinds of pain; I can see the kind, warm love that filters thru, To surface at the top when you’re not blue, I have seen and know your hopes and fears The good and bad times you have thru years, You have seen and felt so much I’m glad our lives did touch Look deep into my eyes and you will find The heartaches and happiness that were also mine Come With Me Come with me and be my friend Lets create a fantasy just you & me lets linger through the wind and feel free lets run through the sand and make time stand still so we can treasure this moment Only until The mystical ocean touches our souls and fills our hearts with love come with me and I'll show you What I have to give come with and I'll describe The life I dreamed we'd live come with and hold me gently and watch the retiring sun slowly set Shower me with all your love pretending we just met Whenever you need me I'll be there To help lift your spirits and I want to care About you come with and be my love no longer a fantasy just you & me This time only A reality... Mario William Vitale. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet Personifications Of Oceanic Thoughts whispers sun lit morn the surf hits the turf smells of salt air through the moment savor each moment as the memory lasts bask in the vast expanse between time & space sounds of children playing seaweed next to the rocks along the cobblestone walkway solace torn up in the derision of peace with solidarity we were made for moments such as these seagulls flock overhead remember me in thoughts as these whisk through the breeze capture one's inner sense alas with angelic fervor permeates a flame of life's torn reality a new to face the day Follow Your Heart Magic breathes life in our hearts Destiny resides in our souls Our path now shimmers unshadowed by the night With one embrace partnered by a tender kiss, the bounds of time and distance crumble through fingers like drifting grains of sand Dream time is the place where I am alive Green eyes ripple into lipid pools where miracles draw me to your heart I am free to swim by your side until the sun sets and rises with you again Life is my dream I love you Cynthia When at night I close my eyes, to think all the days gone by, to feel again those passions past, and feeble joy that never lasts, I'm always drawn to thoughts of you, my only love my Cynthia I think I found you in a dream then we celebrate, the night I pressed beyond the seam, where fantasy and reality meet in summer mist so soft and sweet, But you were all I ever felt, my deepest love, my Cynthia But dreams just last within the night, when morning came, Her soul took flight I awake to find Her never there She passes like the misty air To leave me longing and alone, my painful love, my Cynthia Enigma love you swell the heart, to crush the same when lovers part But whether love and joy you bring or bitter pain and Death's cold sting I plead you come to me again, my final love, My Cynthia For My Precious Son You're standing in the doorway. Your workday is all done. He waits to see you everyday, this boy that is your son. He hopes you will go fishing. He hopes you'll shoot the gun. He just wants to be with you, this boy that is your son. He is your spitting image. To him you are ''The One''. He hopes to be just like you, this boy that is your son. You show him what a man is. You teach as you have fun. You are admired as well as loved by this boy that is your son. You've got a friend forever. Until the world is done. Then, still you will be holding this man that is your son. I'm Just A Poetical Lyricist I’m just having fun, but no doubt someone will take this serious I’m about to take you on a lyrical experience I’m having fun with words, like when a baby first starts reading books Saying I’m good at rhyming, Is like saying Mike Tyson packs a decent punch I best mention the Kardashians other wise you’ll have trouble keeping up Me with a pen is more dangerous than Michael Myers on Halloween when he starts slashing with the knife Telling me I can’t rhyme, is the biggest mistake you’ve made since you let your ex Back in to your life Speaking of exes, will someone please date mine I promise she’ll give you a great time I’ll pay for the date, its all on me All I ask, is please be good enough to get her to stop calling me I love Hip Hop, and yeah I know I’m white Please be creative and tell me how I’m the new Vanilla ice Or how I should walk right back across 8 mile I could have thrown this into my waste pile But I just wanted to write some joke lines and have some fun Sick of hearing rappers talk about drugs and how they pack a gun “yeah I’m Bad. I’ll make this Uzi Squirt” You don’t know who Nas is, And think the greatest rapper is Lil Uzi Vert Or some other mumble rapper with lame rhymes You deserve to have Biggie and Big Pun sit on you at the same time Some guy called Young Thug is wearing dresses That’s not something I have a problem with My problem is There’s so much going on in the world and these rappers are scared to address it What happened to Hip-Hop when rappers would share a message? Nas, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick, I could name so many more Now its a bunch of dudes who sound the same with empty thoughts I’d pretend to be from the hood and blast guns but I’d fail I’d rather be the real me, and I’m far too cute to go to Jail I just love Hip Hop and the way it used to be You always get the truth from me someone tell Rihanna I’m ready to give her the best 30 seconds of her life Tell her she’ll only regret it if I become a legend when I die Knowing she could of had me This is my last piece of paper, I’m now pad free I was watching rap battles on YouTube, So took you on this lyrical experience I’m just a poetical lyricist Rapula back in the day where hustlers stayed there were those very afraid he was born in the gutter his momma was a vamp selling her junk in the trunk of a car up all night slept all day he was blown from the frey viscious fangs that bite two turn tables with a mic insisted on a fight sucking the innocent patrons for blood right in the hood like you knew he would Rapula the man, the myth & the legend could very often see him in the back of a seven eleven drinking red slurpees took folks block by block like giving him a heart attack just to fit his mold no one came against him until that day in the crib Rapula lost his lobster bib very often you will see him at the 8th Street Station spinning his records there will never be another blood sucking brother so move over he's taking cover Rapula wore a high hat tip on his temple driving a white Benz looking like Baretta I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me Supernatural but it's so true the world hasn't a single clue borrowed basement pews stained glass windows a reflection of the cross some will go before the toss he was there from the beginning he is the only one that's winning perfumed stockings and a breath of fresh air the willingness to share how you really care if you have seen him you have seen the father Jesus Stop The Madness All of sudden reality happens Ruining my mind that's already jumbled "where the hell did i just go?" I ask to myself no one listens Obsecurity is still in me Recognizing situation where i have been Looking up the sky it's already dark Worrying something, i need to get up Home, i need to find home Stepping forward to pass the crowd The longer i go, the quieter it's so Taking my glasses off because its fogged Focusing my lens but the blur shows sigh Now melancholy does it again Lack of knowledge about locations Lack of someone to be asked for And there is no light to guide me on Vision, direction, companion I wish i could make them clearer But in reality, they just disappear Shaman Within I met a dead poem in the shade of spring. I was so sad I could hear the door bell ring through the furtherance of a smile I became unglued shadows block the motive bruised. Beyond the sky set flight Prison Of The Mind able to be smart without words its a topic of conversation through words spilled out on the ancient path meditate lights out beg, bitch & pout the underscore read stop I'm keeping on keeping transfused and weeping table talking swallow its extremities move the levee strong will survive thank God I'm alive the moments the solitude alone vibrations fixed temptations sensations... take me to the prison three squares a day a pillow and I pray nestled the mood away Getting Ahead Of God hearken onto the voice of a still small way let God show you the new found way look deep into the cause of wisdom seek the shelter God give the children right parents to help bring them up you never miss out in obeying God when you start off in life without God your in the wrong direction God will tell you what he wants you to do if you ask him to your life will be filled with joy, peace & happiness the issue is its not your age but what is the will of God for your life God always has your best when we wait on God you can't tell by the way it works by the way it counts you may have get by in life but you must deny yourself people have to go through disaster before you surrender your life each time we take a leap of our own choice we lose out of the will of God you'll be disapointed the issue is what does God want for your life he acts on behalf on the one who waits on him you can't get God's guidance if your living in sin happiness, joy, peace & satifaction are very valuable you made some choices but God will forgive you if you repent for them its a decision we make if we confess our sins he is faithful & just to forgive us it is a choice you make remember you reap what you sow you can't avoid or escape the things of your soul whether your 16 or 67 its time you made a decision and surrender to God I pray that every person that hears this message will stop to think of what they have done in life Take It All In God is a closer friend come back to New England plants, rocks, shrubs & things suddenly I'm waiting here for you it's a tick or take Sunday afternoon waiting by the rocks they surface with untimely leaves the leagues plagued with devastation the beef stock through the goldie locks of here hair Summertime is no better time got this crazy feeling I'm so glad that your feeling for me with your heart you can unite the heart Changes a smile from a lonesome child transformed through the eyes the timeless cavity unleashed through diverse port of space in time the child in time grew now in there teens sees the world through a fine tooth comb at home being alone the horrific scene through adolescence its a coincidence now as an adult able to leap tall buildings with a single bound the smile deminishes onto sophistication almost a loose cannon pronounced news to its folly cover me with those tender leaves falling from the stream let loose on my caboose the stars all glitter in the darkness of night Pilgrims Progress We need great golden copulations in the cemetery bury your head beneath the limbs in part of a ghostly resolve perhaps this was the path Brother Lawrence tred alone underneath the interpass of denial of speculation we have nursed path each quatrum with a deafening blow to stand in one accord to each other as pilgrims rest after harvest time Apple butter jam spread on fresh home made bread the reflections of a timid squirrel on a limb we have become immeasurable by your smile she danced in a ring of fire yet throws of each challenge with a shrug the cost of the pilgrims progress we shall never know bust up the beat to promote its tempo a beacon of light to a much hurting world in search of love Does death hurt you the most or is it fear beneath the timeless swell I live to tell sought through the variation to its cosmic flame Careless Whisper a shoulder tender shelter to lie next together, the swelter of a careless whisper left tempted shelter lies dormant onto its beckoning plough to thirst united with the throne billow with asps of the new day's pride thank God I'm still alive to delve into the ridges of each dishes kisses the torment of each smile bruisded reed tmpered on its poll the thought of vanity among humanity the faint of your legacy Spirit To Touchdown Ten years since her husband's death she still craved the sight of him and his magnetic smile coming in the door, his suitcoat slung over his back. She yearned to glance at him in a long black coat, resembling a materialized laser beam, as they prepared to go out for an evening, or in old bluejeans walking barefoot with her on the seashore. She knew he was always with her... but wanted his spirit to touchdown My Elephant There is something about the Elephant I love very much, I wish I could cuddle him but I know I cannot, if they be my friend, I will play soccer with an Elephant on my side, I will catch hold of his trunk and he’ll trumpet me to victory with pride. There is something about the Elephant I love very much. Although he is so big, he won’t give you a fright, He lifts up his trunk and blesses you instead, So different from the Lion and Tiger you meet, There is something about the Elephant I love very much He is a pure vegetarian, he won’t kill a mouse, He is worshiped as God for all his good vice. If we were to crown the king of the jungle again, It will go to the Elephant our vegetarian friend Proud To Be An American I’m proud to be American To live In a country that’s free And we’re free to be who We want to be! We’re always Free to try New things. And enjoy every Experience that Life may bring! And I was taught To stand up for what You believe in And never give up On your hopes And dreams Because the sky Is the limit! Beach Canopy The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer Love We Go through the sweet vortex of our inner frame we can dream of far off places with kings and queens shaped through the fragments of are exploits someday you will be all alone in your room there you will read a text to reflect upon your life we each are on a journey in this life some ponder the existence of God other reflect in the day to day toil love is the mere essence of are existence shine your inner light upon the twilight hour shadows block the mere reflection of my frame not having you in my arms is driving me insane lest I refrain another door by which to explore there is so much more in this game of life within its given strife we can learn one soul soars and another will soon burn we better wait are turn in this wheel in the sky the faint lulabye in its scope Elvis In Vegas Viva Viva Los Vegas he came alone with a guitar in his sack romance with the dice he's giving back a whole host of onlookers looking upon he waves his magic wand with a favorable song swivel hips stand tight in his sticks Elvis Fun House a blade of grass blown in the wind heros have erected its course leading folks away from divorce in times of remembrances thoughts shattered in the wind coming apart at the seams a brigade of thoughts What is a funhouse ? It is when the eyes of all are upon you It's not so, but when you go through it is true The funhouse is a form of torture where everything unravels around you It is a commotion of nervousness and you just want to hide from all that is around you It is a secret that you don't want to share, but there is one who helps just by saying I care It's not what you say it is what you do When you enter my world of the funhouse, you assure me that God is in control that with him I don't need to be afraid It's the gentle way in which you talk when once you have entered into the realm of commotion... It's the assurance of your sincerity that softens the blow Soon with your special way the inner strife goes away A Thief in The Night Jesus he that hath an ear let him hear when all was said to be good let it be said calamity have you ever been down to the lowest pit you look around and no one gave a shit By His Hand through long lines of being transformed to clean my room in the late month of June we move too soon we remain vital to the oncoming spirit of the game filtered through those tiny reasons to spice up the season the God Lord up above has carried us by his hand Poison Ivy there are pillars being built for those who pusue the chase we each are in a battle some have retreated at death's door lest I implore something more a quaint visitation with your higher power in a world torn up in misery & sorrow hiding behind a false hidden garb of compromise can't we easily see through those twised lies yet we embark on a new journey of are own having a house but living all alone out in the street where people meet had a gun at my head thought i was really dead out of devastation I reached right for the bottle like having a gun in hand to release its throttle the world is in misery torn some insist to curse they very day they were born eyes to see but can't hears to hear but won't there's a true lesson to be learned one soul soars while the other soon to be burned we must all wait in line for are turn each of us will have a day in the sun now I'm off on the run searching through pictures to put on my wall to stand ten feet tall amidst the social resistance join in now I must insist this casualties are enormous for a stated cause that's plain atrocious have we taken the time out to notice yet many of us have given up way to easy caught in a rut in are society out of desperation there still is a plan that we can see someday be fulfilled as a reality if we only believe one will be set free Break Away break away to a brand new day perfect display we come to pray faint sounds of grandeur right down to the wire share with those you have heard Thirst thirst after the water that has been spoken look deep beneath the vines of realization through thought and mind breath deep inside let your breath go complete with words of heightened anticipation go deep upon deeper be the keeper of the gate call it fate the twist and turn of the music to loose it the world spins like a top negotiate your buyer sweet songs of praise sweet moments raised in a time well spent in thought the spinning wheel stop just like a top remember me in times like these sheltered through the breeze crushed upon the leaves in midnight hour with pulse through the flame in moments of granduer sharpen your arrows to calm the breeze nestled to your knees cultivated with a smile to know all the great while a helmet for the passing fawn the bear from its nap with a yawn in columns of portals sprinkled dust in the wind the habitation of a needle visible through the shadows remember me in times like these through the training of the leaves taunt the moment an explosion until sunset the bill of sale A Gun For Hire there is a direct correlation between time & space scented across your universe base the climb to approach the summit peak with words do you seek famous qoutes and pictures for your desire coming down to the wire a gun for hire Beyond Her Tea- Blurred Vision The powerful voice of loneliness is screaming through her mind of twisted halls, All too painful to hear, she absorbs them into her cotton ball walls But, beyond her tea-blurred vision and through her pounding heart She hears the voice inside her that is worse than a dagger through her heart Her shadow's darkest moments are filled with hopeless pride And her tongue tied conscience is all whom she has to confide But the rose that is trying to bloom, within her salty hand, will never wither, and never be taken away, Because this, and this alone, is what keeps her going day by day the embrace... Shelter From The Storm outside violence inner silence shadows now block the vortex spaces for places & midnight traces coming apart at the seams jelly beans breath deep my pale sister confide my shady brother undercover as lovers sign so simple the cripple shelter from the storm curse the very day you were actually born a world that turns suffer inside the place to hide let go of any ambition what are you bitching cap the cosmic clap faces in the window having storms in the night Celebrate In Twilight the crimsome tide we all want to run away & hide although we suffer inside enter through the canopy of a velvet song lines drawn in the sand when to understand give yourself away take heed to pray no cornerstone no bridge unknown through the sunlit ravine The Knight Of The 1,000 Eyes softly now faintly ode to the serpent's tale dismiss the dread to reclaim its saga in darkened dungeons fit for conquest come away for a rest most of life is but a test treasure the mantle to the I am presence delve into the sacred flames within your heart enter the center of your being pull back on yourself a still small voice within you saying be not afraid I am here I am your heart I abide in the holy temple in the center of your being you have climbed through mountains you have found me after a very long trek in the darkness of human misery I am the pressence that looks through your eyes the knight will rise of the 1, 000 eyes filtered through the shame who are we to blame infinity is my measure you beloved heart belong to me let us be one once again allow the shell of outer human pass away I will be the service to life that passes through you do not accept as real to what is in the outer world fear not I am the life inside your heart I am inside you together we must intoduce ourselves onto the world. A Gripping Fairy Tale long ago let the truth be told in a city far far away lived a young hobbit who drank there was woods to hide his visitation a taste of hungry exoneration A fare maiden was on the throne ruling her army from the barren city enclosed was a message of honor high off traction from the waiting pool the kingdom was now silent These Words these words are wrapped among a cordial smile cemented like glue for what are we to do come now let us leave the door opened, a demonstration of trust in a world in quite a bit of a rush the door swings wide to the enforced way a beautiful flower display ample time to pray therefore everything will be o.k. the knock on the door lest I implore a distant shuttter of languished circumstances with a heart that's been renewed these words stand still amidst the night's appeal the even keal behind the spinning wheel trust is completely most like a seagull off the coast a reason to really trust Surfing The Internet Today I'm on point smoking a fat joint relaxing basking in the ambiance of the hour folks need to take a cold shower as they admire the scented perfume through the room we have become combersome with this world as a child as if you never really heard Leonard Cohen with his famed song "Suzanne" really makes you think about life. Through the negative light of affliction we have every bit of reason to be standing chosen yet we have are back against the wall when all attempts of standing ten feet tall, Each of us has a reason to discuss the mere notion of love sent from up above Rat tit tat tat on that ass no one gets by on any free pass we need to make are way look to your neighbor for any favors we can all learn to trust & savor Each new moment that comes along with a fast paced moving vibrant song you unleashed the inner lion in me with a whole host of chemistry Surfing the internet may not be your thing but prayer can unleash the fires within storms of life come to either make you or break you whats news for you might not be for you life is like a jagged edge roller coaster with its twists and turns one soul soars while the other one burns just wait your turn Empty Leaves onto the seventh hour of the seventh sun beckon to rule the new day's dawn the lovely fawn sitting on the lawn vibrations to great temptations captivated by a smile to know all the great while the wilderness beckons a response of wild beasts among us Light Brevity thoughts of brevity about the city stay close to me a whole host next to me got rhymes of choice stretched to the opened door the willingness to be explored stand firm in the wheel chair you know my condition to what I've been dishing kissing twisted stereo lies by the bars swift no surprise captivated by her smile still to know all the great while as if a little child faith pierced the scene eating fantastic cuisine the turning of the page is it safe to ask you your age ? the band played on Agatha The Princess she was on the throne far away from her home uniting hearts to ne fond heights carrying herself with a song Agatha the princess will lose their influence soaring to new frontiers left her to tears took walks in her garden beautiful flower display led to thoughts to pray with tears in her eyes came as a big surprise delicate hue wth borrowed lies she walks the flats on the lonely pier rapers and dishes she would hide leave behind the careless whisper a shoulder to cry the soft cascading vamp shine on her eyes to beg or even borrow moments of sorrow to cleave to her young the living stone have we just begun Back To The Front plunged into uncertainty the quest to be a want to be shining on mental enhancement there's joy in the progress smoke on my ceiling highway of what I'm dealing Heroin bang bang shoot shoot you took my nephew Shane let me be the first to explain Shane used to live with us so long ago until he shot up heroin he died in are house such a dark force it starts with a promise to relieve then one gets too deep falling apart at the seams beg, borrow & steal for your next fix to even the deal some take it with a needle others snort it up their nose but do you suppose there's always a shipment coming from Rhode Island dodge the bullet feel the passion why am I asking heroin scores a perfect 10 in the mind of an addict it takes your body then your soul engulfed in flames bust up the beat to promote its tempo Soft Parade the tear drop fell from the ceiling no matter what I'm dealing the ocean has a delicate spray through loose lines let it go time well spent in thought through the day springs hope left nestled on its undertow the stereo swell basking in the hour of belief sorted flowers in its incredible epitaph The Waiting Suspense there are pillars in doorways loosed to become forgiven loose engine the pulsating of a river where is the trigger gets bigger & bigger Destination Excellence the thought of letting go a far to time before waiting to explore the opened door life can be quite a bore the longing for more road up ahead avoid the living dead thoughts inside my head The Arms Of Rap into the arms of rap that's where its at buiding through the confusion in fusion got flames coming out my baseball cap I'm in need of a nap keep close to the doorway fresh rhymes I'm still on time you maybe brave see me at the arcade park my Benz in back folks tend to over react but I tip my hat got news for you all bridge the gap know what's up Chilling at the grill with my girl sporting heavy studs think that I'm in love you see there's brilliance in a piece mark the ege of my teeth stand still & repeat bars watching souped up body kit cars looking to the stars a view from Mars Pina Colada does anyone grow fond of Starsky & Hutch another push grasping with tender faith in my hand when will folks understand stick it to the man years have passed still having every reason to grasp the solitude in that I'm still in a good mood... Feeling high anxiety got folks sitting next to me living out my legacy of what I used to be Sipping my favorite sauce to the max you tend to over react got to stay in the zone Summer time boogy time get your cash and stand in line frozen in time Through a variation of a dream peeps do scream eating delicious ice cream Souped up high hat as if in a tempo taking you places that you need to go playing a little Spanish fly i got words by the fly your my favorite guy on my human side stand still I'm happily alive got to put first things first this is how i flirt got words for Lavert put back your gold in a purse Trump is getting busy but he makes me awful dizzy better listen to Thin Lizzy they say i'm institutionalized but I got words from the hive it's best to dream big Let Yourself Be A reflection I will be, for today I looked into a mirror and much to my surprise, what I saw was all deep, deep, inside... There it was, all exposed, the inner me right down to my very soul alarmed, shocked, and surprised, what I saw wasn't really me on the outside What have I done ? Where did it go wrong ? Why isn't the inner me the same as the outer soul ? Then I could see way beyond it isn't just me, but everyone. Life is a fairy tale to most for the really don't accept the Holy Ghost If all would look within their self, and see the person that is there, open up your heart, let it out don't pretend, just be proud, for the person you really are, is just what God wanted for he created you as he chose Don't fret, or whine, just be proud, life's riches you will surely find Now when you look at me, a mirror you will see for when you look at me, what you'll see is the inner me For I am the mirror of the real me To everyone in life who feels they are not special, you really are, you see, for God made you that way, if you'll only let yourself be...