#Denise collard

[backscale-pivot-queen]

In honor of the Olympics taking place in Paris, I wanted to remember some beautiful French gymnasts 🇫🇷

[orbitariums]

home this christmas | carmen berzatto x black reader smut

happy christmas! wrote this in a pinch, hope u love

also, all my steve rogers fic readers— what say i finish up girls on film over winter break? just for shits and giggles. enjoy!

the drive to your family’s heirloom brownstone in brooklyn was almost impossible as you and carmy took turns navigating the snowy roads and the panic attack that was new york traffic during the holidays. it would’ve been absolute agony if you weren’t right by your lover’s side and didn’t have tons of r&b christmas classics blasting through the entire time. at the first hotel, the two of you were too exhausted to even talk to each other, but carmen’s arm still found its way around your waist like something of an unconscious mechanism. you had to smuggle yourself free in the morning. by the morning, the two of you were determined to finish up the four-hour drive and make it home for christmas. 

no time for rest though. the minute you and carmy stepped in, you were bombarded with the sound of luther vandross belting christmas classics. the smell of good cooking — candied yams, sweet potatoes, collard greens, and glazed ham- overwhelmed your senses. any tension that had built up on the road was immediately released the moment you walked in, carmy holding a huge crate of ingredients that he would use to make chicken piccata.

“cuzzo!” squealed janae, your favorite girl cousin, and a recent howard u grad, as she ran up with her arms opened wide like a snow angel etched into the snow. 

“hey boo,” you grinned, basking in the warmth of her hug. you held on for so long— halfway through today’s trip, carmy’s car heat stopped working and the both of you had to opt for multiple blankets and layering up in all the coats and scarves you could find, plus whatever slightly warming object was in the back of his trunk.

“hi baby, hi carmen. merry christmas!,” your mother, hustling over to the sink with a large pot full of hot water cooed out.

“merry christmas, ms. __. so good to see you, can i help you with that?” carmen asked, setting down his crate and heading over to your mother, getting straight to business.

“carmen, you know to call me denise,” your mother nagged, waving her hand at carmen dismissively. “what i keep telling you about that?! you’re family. now leave me alone and ‘gon get started with your little chef shit over there.”

carmen smiled, that deep dimple sinking into his cheek that made you fall in love with him all over again each time you saw it. 

“yes ma'am,” he relented.

“ooh, your man is so fine, yn,” your sister announced as she walked into the kitchen. “and a gentleman, but we been knew that. hey, carmy. it’s good to see you, boy.”

“yeah, good to see you, too. how’s uhh— how’s benny?”

your sister scoffed,

“stupid, as always. and he don’t even cook. hey, yn!”

your sister laughed and pulled you into a hug.

“home sweet home,” you grinned, jumping right into the business of the kitchen. 

the rest of the day was chaos, but the kind you could only ever love. if anything, carmy preferred this chaos to that of his family’s thanksgiving and back home. this chaos felt organized and loving, not to mention hilarious. it took so long to convince your family that carmy could really cook, but once they finally met him just a few months before and he put down a peach pie like never before, they could not shut up about how fine and talented your man was, and how he was one of the good ones.

today, the same routine. this time, watching carmen cook for your family in your family home revved up a stir deep inside of you that would linger on your mind for the entire afternoon. everywhere you turned you couldn’t help but eye him — his big arms, littered with tattoos, flexing as he stirred a pot of mashed potatoes; the way his brow dug into his forehead with concentration as he definitively scattered parsley over the chicken; his tongue darting out to lick the side of his lip when he was focusing deeply on something. 

for the first time in the past 24 hours, you were practically separated from carmy. he was focusing on his dish and tending to the demands of the practically all-female kitchen (no men were allowed, bar for carmy and your aunt’s husband), so he didn’t get to talk to you, doubly engrossed in your christmas dinner duties, much either. though the times that he could sneak away or had to pass by you, he reassured you with a light squeeze around your hips or a hand on the small of your pack as he got by you. unbeknownst to him, it was only feeding the stir that was increasing by the hour between your thighs, and polluting your mind with the most unholy thoughts. 

the air was thick with flour, smoke, and the smell of a grand dinner by the time you all were finished cooking. while you let the food cool, you opened gifts. carmy had something for everyone in the family, even your baby cousins, nieces, and nephews. by the end of the gift opening, everyone had agreed that carmy was their new favorite. 

“merry christmas, baby,” carmy muttered against your lips, pulling you in for the first kiss you had shared for a few hours now. he placed your gift in your lap. 

“merry christmas,” you smiled against his lips, which tasted like sweet wine and marshmallows, as you pulled away. 

“c’mon now, what’d he get you?” your aunt hollered from her seat, clapping her hands together joyfully. 

you grinned, sloughing away the paper, which was wrapped to perfection, just like everything carmy dared touch. you nearly squealed when you saw the box: black and white with big bold letters: chanel. 

“baby, you did not,” you whined, frowning as you looked over at carmen. again that dimple reappeared and it took you everything not to jump his bones. he stroked his hand with his chin in that pensive way of his, his smile sheepish and yet smug.

“open it.”

you opened it slowly as if you were scared. then you practically tore it out of the box when you saw just what it was — the metallic pink chanel bag you had liked just once on instagram, posting it on your story with the caption “need.” you didn’t expect anything to come of that, and yet, here carmy was, going above and beyond to keep up with your expensive and exquisite taste. you couldn’t help but screech in excitement, waving the bag in the air while you stuck your tongue out.

“y’all look what my man got me!”

“my man, my man, my man,” some of your cousins echoed, humored, in the background.

the entire living room practically erupted with noises of affirmation and disbelief from your family. 

“girl, let me hold that for you!” your cousin janae pleaded jokingly. 

you broke out into a little dance on the couch, ending it with another kiss planted on carmy’s lips, pulling away with a loud smacking noise. 

“you really didn’t have to, baby. i love you.”

“i love you. that’s why i did it,” carmy grinned, his eyes boring deep into yours, promising his love to you. 

“i just know that’s right,” your mother called out. 

dinner was active and loud, as always. carmen’s chicken piccata barely lasted, and folks were starting to compare it to your aunt’s famous fried chicken, but carmy shut that down immediately.

“nah, don’t get me in trouble,” he smirked, holding the plate you had made for him. 

there was something so indescribably sexy about watching him just standing there. that he was so easily integrated with your family, so helpful, and charming enough to please your own mother and father had you weak in the knees. not to mention the insane gift. he told you he’d been saving up for a few months ever since he saw you post that, and that only made your heart melt more.

when carmy wasn’t so in his own head, he was a man of true, deep intention. you were the one who brought him back to homeostasis, to equilibrium. his mental state seemed to clear of all the “bad shit” when he laid his head on your chest, on your lap, your hands figuring their way through the ringlets of his curly hair. 

“yeah, don’t get him in trouble,” the aunt in question echoed as she walked past.

“don’t worry aunty, i still like your fried chicken better. sorry baby,” you awarded carmy an apologetic kiss on the lips. “but i stand on my shit.”

“as you should,” carmen nodded, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “you like other things about me better though, yeah?”

that last part came as a low murmur against your ear, his lips just barely brushing against the lobe. the words, in tandem with his warm, familiar breath fanning against your neck, made you squeeze your legs together involuntarily. you could practically taste the wine on his lips and it made you dizzy. the stir that had been brewing inside of you for an entire day now was now changing pace, becoming quicker, more violent. if you didn’t fulfill your needs soon, you’d overflow. 

you smiled to save face in front of your family, squeezing carmen’s hand as if to say “later.” but god, later couldn’t come fast enough.  

the rest of the night you were glued to carmen, practically hip to hip. you sat on his lap while your family talked around the tree, and he made sure his hands caressed your thighs ever so softly, just enough to keep you reeling from his trickling touch. you wanted him to squeeze, wanted him to sink his palms into you and then some. 

it wasn’t until nearly midnight that people started to pile out, and only then did you find it appropriate to head upstairs with carmen, bidding adieu to your family. 

“aww, it was so good to see you yn, and you, carmen. what a blessing you’ve been to this family,” crooned one of your aunts as she also made her way out the door.

“blessed to be here. thank you guys for welcoming me, seriously. i couldn’t be luckier, holy shit. excuse my language,” carmen rambled,

the words spilled out with ease because of the wine and because he genuinely felt this way. his whole life, he’d been blessed with found family, reminding him that sometimes water could be just as thick as blood. and when you came with the package? he’d never let go. 

people began to peeter out late into the night, and by the time everyone was gone, only then was it appropriate for you to bring carmy upstairs to get ready for bed. 

both you and carmy spilled out a few more jokes and goodbyes before you took carmy by the hand and led him upstairs. as you were walking up there, it hit you that it was his first time being in your childhood room. you only ever stayed here when you were visiting, so it still had a very y2k theme to it that you hadn’t changed since high school. a poster of lil kim with her legs spread was plastered on your walls, along with nsync, backstreet boys, and a couple other 90s-2000s classics. you still had a half-used bottle of juicy couture viva perfume on your desk, the bow wrapped prettily around the cap. 

“oh shit, it’s been a while,” you chuckled. 

carmen was taking it all in, looking around with a thoughtful grin etched across his lips.  

“always been a fashion girl, huh?” he prodded you.

“oh forever.”

you sidled up in front of him, so close you could feel him up against you.

“you were amazing today,” you reached up to kiss him as he towered over you, in height and energy. a soft, wet kiss that left carmy wanting more. so much so that he unconsciously wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you in even closer. 

“yeah?”

“yes. i love watching you with my family. and with the kids, you just…”

“y’know, when i was cooking i kept feeling eyes on the back of my neck. any idea who that could’ve been?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow up as he gazed down at you.

you shook your head knowingly, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, returning his gaze tenfold.

“no,” you replied, your voice sweet like honeydew and so, so telling. 

“fuck,” carmy’s gaze seemed to deepen as his lids sunk lower, drinking in the sight of you. “don’t look at me like that, baby.”

he started to pull you closer towards him, back and back and back until you were plopped down on his bed. his legs, wide and bulky, forced you to spread yours over his lap, welcoming his thighs into a straddle. 

“like what?” you asked, your eyes twinkling as you looked down at him and he looked up at you, his hands roaming your thighs freely, like an expanse of land that was entirely his property. 

“like that, like you’re gonna make me do something you’ll regret.”

“regret? how could i ever regret anything you do to me, baby?” you questioned with a very intentional roll of your hips against him. you felt him grow, blossoming against your own crotch, which made you moan quietly.

“if you’re loud enough—” carmy punctuated his words with a kiss against your neck as his hands went to take off your shirt. you lifted your arms up and your shirt came sliding off, your skin exposed to the cool air. “you just might regret it.”

carmy kissed the side of your neck, eliciting a quiet huff of pleasure from your lips. you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the pleasure. his fingers danced delicately against your bare sides until finally, he rested the whole of his palms against your body, easing them up and down like he was smoothing you out. 

“mm, i’ll be quiet, daddy,” you hummed, arching your back just so, his hand connecting with the small of your back and fitting right in.

“take your pants off,” he commanded quietly, his eyes practically closed as he studied you with heavy lids. the exhaustion certainly didn’t assist the horny daze he was sinking deeper into, tired and full of lustful thoughts that seemed to weigh him down.

“only if you take your clothes off too, carmy,” you whined, but you shimmied out of your pants anyway, watching him with hungry puppy-dog eyes while he did the same, yanking off his shirt, belt, and pants and throwing them halfway across the room.

“and your bra, too,” carmy said softly, his words coming out delicate like petals falling off a flower. he was completely focused on one thing, and it was you— nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. time moved slow when he watched you like this. 

you started unhooking it, then carmy’s hands flung to your clasp to help you, removing it in record time and throwing it across the room. you opened your mouth to make a joke, but you were immediately silenced when his lips attached hungrily to your breast, closing in on the fat surrounding the small of your nipple while the other hand grasped onto the other. 

you whined quietly and started to roll your hips against carmy even more now, grinding deep against his crotch which was covered by his boxers. you could practically feel him poking inside of you, lubricating your pussy even more than it already was. 

“carmy,” you whined. “can feel you.”

“mhm?” he hummed brokenly, his breaths heavy and dysregulated. you were so warm, sharing in each other’s heat, in the still dark of your bedroom. the sheets all done up, practically untouched. he pulled away from your breast, unlatching with a soft pop of his lips. his hand replaced his mouth, feeling the warm trail that his lips left. “can feel you too, sweetheart.”

he let his hand drift down to your crotch, cupping you over your underwear, which had a big wet spot in the center. 

“yeah, that’s what i feel. you’re so fucking wet, honey,” he crooned into your ear, making sure his lips brushed against your earlobe before he traveled down to kiss on your neck some more, sending shivers down your spine that made you buck your hips involuntarily into his hand. carmy chuckled that dark, smug chuckle that made you hate him and want to ride him all the same. the kind that only came out when you were being desperate— when he had control over you and not the other way around. “what’re you doing, baby? go slow, yeah? be patient.”

he made a wreck of you, obliging you anyway by circling a finger against your clit through your panties, feeling the way your slick seemed to pool endlessly at his touch. wanting to feel it on your skin. 

“shut up, carmy, fuck!” you moaned quietly, your arms wrapped around his neck for balance. 

he played with you just a little more, wondering just how far he could take it until your quiet moans turned into pleading whimpers, until he made you start to beg just for his fingers, so that by the time he sat you down on his lap, letting you sink all the way down onto his cock, you had no more voice to beg. that was on his mind, and yet, in his tired, sex-drunk haze, he knew to give you what you wanted now, before you went and turned the whole house into a personal fuckfest. 

still, he couldn’t help but tease just once more. 

“it’s christmas, honey. what’re we doing?”

“i don’t care,” you huffed. “it’s practically tomorrow, it’s like 11:30.”

carmen nearly snorted,

“need it that bad?”

you didn’t reply, and so he asked you again, this time with a kiss of his lips against your neck, sucking and attaching firmly to the sweet, soft skin there, and with his fingers, pulling down your underwear. slick sounds filling the air as it detached from your wet core, a trail of your arousal in between the cloth and your heat. 

“hm?” carmy hummed, letting his fingers dance along your slit, ever so gently and delicately, like they were trailing up your entire being.

“god, y-yes, carmy. need it, need you. please,” you whimpered, muffled as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, lurching into him like you were surrendering, a natural lull you didn’t even realize you gave into every time without fail. full disregard, letting him take over, letting yourself let go. 

“need my fingers inside you, yeah?” carmy panted, finding it hard to control himself.

all he wanted was to be sheathed fully inside of you, whether that meant twisting you open with his fingers, lapping you up with his tongue, or fucking his cum into you as deeply (and quietly) as he could. he obliged, slipping one finger inside with such gleeful ease, feeling the digit get soaked in your arousal. 

you gasped sharply, lurching forward involuntarily. carmy brought you back down with another hand wrapped firm around your waist.

“no no no, stay right there. and answer me, what do you need?” 

“need you carmy, need your fingers, please, another,” you nearly cried out, your voice going up an octave just to beg. perhaps carmen’s favorite sound from your lips, and it didn’t even sound like yourself— it sounded like someone who was forced into impenetrable bliss and didn’t have a vessel to express it, just the voice.

“okay, okay, sweetheart,” he was sweet and giving, so generous, so dazed and yet still so in charge. dipping another finger into your slick, wet heat and burying his fingers to the hilt inside of you, causing you to squeak out. “fuck, gotta be quiet, honey.”

“yes, yes, i’m sorry,” you scrambled to apologize, which only made him want you more. hungry, he grunted, jerking his hips up to feel something, anything. your hands flew to his crotch, palming him over his boxers, but he gently pulled your hand away. 

“don’t worry about me, baby. don’t worry. gonna have you bouncing on my cock in a minute, just wait. wanna make you feel good first,” he assured you, and in your haze, you nodded agreeably, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

he moved, slowly, so you could feel his fingers sliding against your walls. you threw your head back, a muffled noise of pleasure escaping from your throat. he kept his eyes on you, unblinking, pumping in slow and controlled one, two times, then he picked up the pace, and with it, you got wetter, slicker, soaking his fingers and his thighs. 

your breath caught in your throat, you couldn’t even make any noise. just stilted from the pleasure that you felt, feeling it burn and rev in your stomach— that slow, churning stir back again, working towards completion. all you could hear was your slick as carmy fucked his fingers in and out of you, fast and dangerously deep, hitting every single spot inside of you because his fingers were so thick. carmy’s eyes glanced down for a minute to see his fingers disappearing inside of you like they fucking belonged there, like they were supposed to be inside of you, making you so wet that it was all you could hear. he watched as your arousal painted your mound and spread across your thighs, breathing out heavily in disbelief. he started to fuck his fingers into you faster now, and you whimpered in a pitch he’d never heard from you before. with his other hand, he assisted you in bouncing your hips at the same pace as his fingers. the room was filled with the sounds of squelching as his fingers fucked in and out of you, carrying along your slick with it.

“fuck, you’re so fucking wet. your pussy’s so fucking loud, baby, you must feel so good, huh? feels so good? don’t wanna wake anybody up, do you?” he was delirious, saying whatever came to his mind, his grip on your hip tight and his fingers wrecking you at such a torturous pace. 

“mm-mm, mm-mm,” you cried, rocking your hips against his hands and damn near taking his knuckles— his interjections of “such a pretty wet pussy” and “you’re doing so good for me, you sound so fucking good, baby” brought you to your high, and you rode it out whale bouncing your hips up and down. legs shaking and thighs trembling as you tightened around his fingers, releasing all over him. your voice a muddled mess as you cried out. “fuck, carmy, i’m coming. i’m coming.”

“fuck,” carmen said through gritted teeth, his cock jumping in his boxers. “fuck, you’re so good. you’re so fucking good, yn, that’s it. that’s it sweetheart.”

you whimpered as you came, his fingers still deep inside of you and thrusting while you rode it out/

“i know, i know,” he muttered reassuringly, letting you get yours and then pulling his fingers out softly, resting his head against your rising and falling chest. 

his hands returned to a smooth, kind roam as he let you catch your breath, touching every part of you to comfort you. when you had found your basis again, you sighed lovingly and wrapped your hands around carmen’s neck, pressing your forehead against his and gazing into his eyes. 

a soft smile tugging at your lips, you whispered,

“i love you, bear. wanted to be around you all day, even after spending two days straight with you. still wanted you.”

“i always want you,” he replied without skipping a beat. he lifted his head up to kiss you. “and i love you too. if we can survive a twelve-hour road trip we can survive anything.”

“shit, if we can survive christmas with my family we can survive anything,” you giggled, kissing 

his forehead.

“yeah, i love your family though. mom’s dope. sister’s hilarious. cousins are wildly talented. it fucking runs in the family. i don’t know what runs in my family, maybe… i dunno, bad shit,” he chuckled with a huff, shaking his head. 

“hey,” you pouted. “don’t say that, bear. you’re sweet… attentive… loving… a perfectionist until it kills you, but, that’s valuable. isn’t it?”

you punctuated each word with a kiss, trailing down his neck and around his clavicles.

“fuck,” he breathed out. “don’t start something you can’t finish, now.”

“try me,” you grinned devilishly. 

[lectures-sur-le-bateau-ivre]

Sur Tartuffe : adaptations

Commençons donc avec ce qui a le moins à voir avec la pièce, une version écourtée de la pièce, mise en scène par Maurice Béjart en 1981.

Casting : Cléante - Bernard Dhéran, Mme Pernelle - Catherine Samie, Orgon - Michel Aumont, Elmire - Geneviève Casile, Tartuffe - Michel Duchaussoy, Dorine - Virginie Pradal, Valère - Raymond Acquaviva, Damis - Guy Michel, Mariane - Marcelline Collard

Mise en scène classique, mais saupoudrée de Béjart (donc décors un peu spéciaux, maquillage très marqué pour les personnages doubles comme Tartuffe). Super performance de Michel Aumont, qui donne à voir un Orgon complètement hypnotisé par Tartuffe (et c’est là qu’@aramielles me dit que c’est normal d’être hypnotisé par le talent de Michel Duchaussoy). J’avoue que je n’arrivais pas à déterminer si Elmire était un peu intéressée par lui ou si elle était juste extrêmement saoulée (merci m’dame Casile). Une déclaration d’amour à l’acte III qui est désespérée comme je les aime. Oh nevermind ??? Elmire intéressée ??? OH MY GOD. Orgon qui s’agenouille devant Tartuffe et lui baise la main rien que pour lui dire bonjour. Béjart I love you. Imagerie chrétienne homoérotique, on apprécie. Globalement le Tartuffe de Duchaussoy est un bon petit connard manipulateur, il jette un regard méprisant sur Orgon à ses genoux, franchement une excellente pétasse qui sied bien pour le rôle.

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Deuxième version, celle de 1975, mise en scène de Jacques Charon.

Casting : Orgon - Jacques Charon, Robert Hirsch - Tartuffe, Jacques Toja - Cléante, Michel Duchaussoy - Monsieur Loyal, François Beaulieu - L’Exempt, Jean-Noël Sissia - Damis, Bernard Alane - Valère, Denise Gence - Mme Pernelle, Claude Winter - Elmire, Françoise Seigner - Dorine, Catherine Salviat - Mariane, Denise Pezzani - Flipote

Encore une mise en scène classique, on aime. Cet Orgon a l’air un peu con (spécialité de Charon). Tartuffe, coupe au bol absolument ridicule (la laideur comme laideur de l’âme ? C'est un lieu commun que je repère parfois dans Tartuffe, où un Tartuffe moche est souvent joué comme ridicule, alors qu’un Tartuffe qu’on embellit physiquement est joué comme plutôt charmeur). Légèrement précieux, doucereux, on est carrément dans la première façon de jouer le rôle, c’est-à-dire en gros cliché, et on ne comprend presque pas comment Orgon peut être à ce point aveugle pour ne pas voir qu’il est double. Il est aussi carrément graveleux lors de la déclaration d’amour, et franchement il m’évoque plus une espèce de cancrelat qu’on a envie d’écraser qu’un manipulateur de génie (super performance d’Hirsch cependant). Une Elmire magnifique (merci m’dame Winter) et oh ! Un François Beaulieu sauvage apparaît en fin de pièce pour faire L’Exempt.

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Troisième version, de 1960, mise en scène de Louis Seigner (encore une classique).

Casting : Tartuffe - Louis Seigner, André Falcon - Damis, Paul-Emile Deiber - Orgon, Louis Eymond - L’Exempt, Henri Rollan - Cléante, Jean-Louis Jemma - Valère, René Arrieu - Monsieur Loyal, Berthe Bovy - Mme Pernelle, Andrée de Chauveron - Dorine, Annie Ducaux - Elmire, Nagali de Vendeuil - Mariane, Janine Dehelly - Flipote

L’Orgon de Deiber a l’air un peu neurasthénique, sans avoir l’air con il n’a pas l’air complètement dépendant, ça me donne l’impression bizarre que cet Orgon aurait pu se défendre de tout s’il avait prêté un peu plus attention à ce qu’il se passe chez lui (même si Tartuffe, quand on l’accuse une première fois, use énormément d’ironie pour se qualifier de pécheur, et Orgon prend ça premier degré). Tartuffe-Seigner est parfaitement jouissif à regarder, mais on reste exactement dans le schéma classique d’un personnage ridicule. Succulente Elmire, drôle à souhait (merci Annie Ducaux). Bref, ici la bonne vieille pièce familiale, quoi.

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Quatrième version, de 1971, mise en scène de Marcel Cravenne (une autre mise en scène classique)

Casting : Michel Bouquet - Tartuffe, Delphine Seyrig - Elmire, Jacques Debary - Orgon, Luce Garcia-Ville - Dorine, Madeleine Clervanne - Mme Pernelle, Claude Giraud - Cléante, Edith Garnier - Mariane, Bernard Alane - Valère, Jacques Weber (ô surprise) - Damis, Paul Le Person - Monsieur Loyal, Robert Party - L’Exempt, Christine Chicoine - Flipote

C’est marrant, cet Orgon là a plus l’air amusé en début de pièce de Tartuffe, plutôt que de dépendre de lui. Quand on accuse Tartuffe, il réagit plutôt comme si on avait donné un coup de pied dans son chiot préféré. (grmrgmrmg le Cléante de Giraud. Cet homme me rend fou depuis Les Rois Maudits). Petiot Weber, il est pitchoune. Ah, Delphine Seyrig…La fée des lilas à jamais pour moi, mais quelle bonne Elmire (et quelle belle femme jésus seigneur). Un Tartuffe très intéressant, puisqu’il n’est pas ridicule car il n’a pas l’air faux lors de sa déclaration, il a juste l’air un peu dégueulasse ; mais surtout, il brise l’apparent fil rouge de l’interprétation de ce rôle en étant enlaidi par le costume et les postiches, mais en étant totalement manipulateur. 

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Cinquième version, de 1980, mise en scène de Jean Pignol (encore et toujours une mise en scène classique)

Casting : Tartuffe - Michel Galabru, Orgon - Bernard Fresson, Elmire - Yolande Folliot, Dorine - Micheline Dax, Cléante - Pierre Gallon, Mme Pernelle - Germaine Delbat, Mariane - Nathalie Serrault, Valère - Eric Legrand, Damis - Jean-Renaud Garcia, Monsieur Loyal - Georges Montillier, L’Exempt - Pierre Negre, Laurent - Georges Sayad, Flipote - Sonia Laurent

Wow un opening directement sur la petite famille en train de prier avec Tartuffe ? Innovative ! On dirait que Tartuffe est d’abord le dealer d’Orgon parce qu’il est très, très calme au début. Ou alors il est homosexuel, au vu de la façon dont il dit “il venait d’un air doux tout vis-à-vis de moi se mettre à deux genoux”. Le Tartuffe de Galabru est bon mais grâce à l’acteur plutôt qu’au rôle lui-même, parce qu’il lui donne justement ce côté double et ridicule (les cheveux bien gras, on pourrait utiliser la moumoute comme friteuse). Opinion tout à fait personnelle, j’aime pas le jeu de Fresson . Et définitivement, Galabru joue beaucoup sur le côté dégueu et graveleux qu’on peut facilement donner à Tartuffe. Une version, ma foi, pas la meilleure, mais pas un échec non plus. 

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Sixième version, de 1997 (retour au Français !), mise en scène de Georges Bensoussan (à quand autre chose qu’une mise en scène classique ?)

Casting : Dorine - Catherine Ferran, Orgon - Jean Dautremay, Mariane - Anne Kessler, Tartuffe - Philippe Torreton, Monsieur Loyal - Igor Tycska, Elmire - Cécile Brune, Mme Pernelle - Nathalie Nerval, Cléante - Christian Blanc, Valère - Olivier Dautrey, Damis - Eric Ruf, L’Exempt - Bruno Raffaelli, Flipote - Stéphanie Labbé, Laurent - Patrick Olivier

Décors blancs, un peu art contemporain, innovative ! Chaque costume est une couleur vive (sauf Tartuffe et Orgon, en noir, et Cléante, en marron), mais qui permet d’identifier immédiatement les personnages et surtout les fait ressortir sur le fond blanc. Jumpscare de Ruf avec une perruque absolument horrible. Aww, mini Anne Kessler, elle est pitchoune. Ô surprise, Ruf a un jeu décent ? (je le respecte en tant que metteur en scène, et je ne m’y connais pas assez en histoire du Français pour dire si c’est un bon administrateur, mais comme comédien…Il m’excusera mais je ne supporte pas son jeu). Je trouve qu’on revient à l’Orgon soit con, soit qui s’en fout un peu en début de pièce. Quoique, on pourrait dire que c’est un Orgon qui commence à développer un autre courant d’interprétation du personnage, celui de la dépendance affective forte (Tartuffe qui lui fait des petites caresses sur l’épaule ???). Dépendance affective de fou ou homosexualité cachée, c’est vous qui voyez. Torreton est jouissif, pétasse à souhait, ironique quand on l’accuse, au physique affreux avec sa perruque graisseuse (leitmotiv chez les costumiers ?). Chose intéressante, la confession de Tartuffe semble désespérée, mais elle est tellement teintée de fausseté qu’on n’y croit pas du tout. Cécile Brune (dieu quelle femme) fait une Elmire hautaine devant Tartuffe que j’A-DORE. Nouveau jumpscare de Ruf qui sort d’une fenêtre cachée haut dans le mur au lieu de sortir d’un cabinet. Bon dieu Cécile Brune, quelle femme, Elmire joue la carte séduction à fond pour l’acte IV. Tartuffe qui commence à se foutre à oilp ??? Ok why not. Costume très très très pailleté pour Tartuffe en fin de pièce. Écoutez, une mise en scène intéressante, des comédiens pas trop tartes, moi je dis que ça fait une bonne pièce.

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Septième version, de 2022, mise en scène Ivo van Hove (youpi ! une mise en scène moderne, histoire de changer un peu)

Casting : Cléante - Loïc Corbery, Orgon - Denis Podalydès, Mme Pernelle - Claude Mathieu, Damis - Julien Frison, Dorine - Dominique Blanc, Tartuffe - Christophe Montenez, Elmire - Marina Hands, Flipote - Héloïse Cholley, et pas de M. Loyal ou d’Exempt ni de Laurent, apparemment ?

Peut-on vraiment dire que je l’ai vue ? Non, je n’ai pas vu cette pièce au cinéma. Mais j’ai des photos et des extraits, de là je pose mon jugement. J’aime beaucoup les mises en scène de van Hove, qui sont souvent minimalistes et font ressortir tout le jeu des comédiens, aussi en posant une sorte de centre de scène où tout se passe. Les costumes noirs tranchent avec la pâleur des comédiens, et le carré blanc en plein milieu de la scène ressemble à un ring où les personnages s’affrontent. Autre lieu commun chez van Hove, on relève la brutalité et la violence et du texte et des personnages en eux-mêmes : tout le monde s’empoigne, se bat, se hurle dessus, c’est une famille complètement disloquée qu’on nous présente. Dominique Blanc en Dorine est parfaite. Corbery est un Cléante désillusionné, à la limite du désespéré de voir son beau-frère comme ça. Julien Frison, lui, campe un Damis qui semble moins furieux, plus un petit garçon qui voit son père s’éloigner de lui. Ma seule question est : comment envisagent-ils la pièce sans Mariane ? Est-elle juste citée ? Le moment très comique entre Orgon et Dorine serait simplement coupé ? Je n’aurais sûrement jamais la réponse, à moins que cette pièce vienne un jour sur le site de l’INA. Marina Hands est une Elmire qui floute complètement la ligne séparant deux interprétations : Elmire qui joue un rôle pour empêcher le mariage entre Tartuffe et Mariane et  confondre Tartuffe à l’acte IV, ou une Elmire véritablement intéressée par Tartuffe. Une scène assez éloquente est visible dans la bande-annonce, qu’on peut replacer justement à l’acte IV, et Elmire ne semble pas beaucoup se défendre d’un Tartuffe qui lui embrasse la nuque. Mais les deux personnages les plus intéressants sont ici Orgon et Tartuffe. Pour Orgon, Podalydès joue complètement sur l’ambiguïté constante entre Tartuffe et Orgon : apparemment complètement dépendant affectif, le “il en va de ma vie” semble très vrai ; et certaines images donnent à penser que van Hove introduit dans sa mise en scène un certain homoérotisme malsain entre ces deux personnages (et encore de l’imagerie chrétienne mise au service de l’homoérotisme, merci m’sieur van Hove). Mais pour moi, le personnage le plus fascinant est Tartuffe (Christophe Montenez mon dieu quel talent incroyable). Si il est dans “le modèle Jouvet”, c’est-à-dire un Tartuffe charmant, séduisant même, et surtout très sincère dans sa déclaration à Elmire, et qui pense croire à tout ce qu’il dit sur le Ciel, Montenez a une approche différente du personnage. Il est malsain ; quand il rentre dans une pièce, on a comme un frisson de gêne : le costume (chemise blanche, cravate blanche, mais veste noire à certains moments), la coiffure (des cheveux coupés très ras) et le maquillage (qui lui donne une pâleur mortelle et un visage émacié) n’aident pas à nous le rendre sympathique. Le ton doucereux (méprisant lorsqu’il parle à Dorine) contribue à cette impression. Surtout, c’est un Tartuffe violent, qui arrive à l’Acte III la chemise tachée de sang, due à la mortification qu’il s’est imposé (en début de pièce, apparemment ? la bande-annonce ne permet pas de le situer). Bref, une mise en scène brutale et légèrement subversive, typique du metteur en scène, qui je crois serait très intéressante à voir.

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Je vous ai réservé ma mise en scène préférée pour la fin, huitième version, de 2021, théâtre à la table, direction artistique d’Eric Ruf (qui compte comme une mise en scène moderne ?)

Casting : Mme Pernelle - Claude Mathieu, Tartuffe - Eric Génovèse, Elmire - Clotilde de Bayser, Cléante - Hervé Pierre, Monsieur Loyal, Un Sergent, et L’Exempt - Nicolas Lormeau, Orgon - Didier Sandre, Damis - Laurent Lafitte, Dorine - Anna Cervinka, Mariane - Clémentine Billy, Valère - Antoine de Foucauld

C’est pas ma version préférée pour rien : la proximité de la table permet de transformer la pièce en huis clos, les vêtements des comédiens, sombres pour la plupart, permettent de relever leurs visages, et la caméra capture d’autant mieux leurs visages qu’elle est proche. Anna Cervinka est une Dorine hilarante qui tranche avec le sérieux des autres ; le Damis de Lafitte est très abrasif ; Cléante par Hervé Pierre use toujours d’un ton extrêmement raisonnable ; les deux petits jeunes sont un couple prometteur. Comme d’habitude, je me suis concentré sur les trois personnages centraux : Elmire, Orgon, Tartuffe. Didier Sandre, trônant en bout de table en patriarche, est un Orgon qui joue sur son âge pour apparaître peut-être plus fragile, qui s’il est moins dépendant que l’Orgon de Podalydès, lui semble extrêmement attaché ; sa colère à l’accusation de Tartuffe est assez violente. Elmire, elle, si elle n’est absolument pas intéressée par Tartuffe (madame moi je veux bien prendre votre place si vous ne voulez pas de lui), aime jouer la carte de la séduction pour parvenir à ses fins, et disons-le, Clotilde de Bayser est charmante. Et Tartuffe…Là encore, pas mon Tartuffe préféré pour rien. Eric Génovèse reprend un Tartuffe qu’il avait déjà joué de cette manière (je donnerai TOUT pour voir la mise en scène de 2005 de Marcel Bozonnet). Il est tout en douceur, la déclaration à Elmire est MAGNIFIQUE et DÉSESPÉRÉE comme il sait les faire, et il est totalement dans le modèle Jouvet d’un Tartuffe qui croit à 90% ce qu’il dit. Chose que je n’avais jamais vu faire avant, le “je tâte votre habit” et ce qui s’ensuit est joué comme une excuse en mousse, comme s’il n’avait vraiment pas fait exprès de poser la main sur le genou d’Elmire, et qu’il tente de rattraper une bourde faite dans l’émotion de l’instant. Tartuffe mis en opposition d’Orgon dans le placement autour de la table le pose en second maître de maison ; sa réponse à son accusation à l’air tellement sincère qu’on y croirait presque. Retournement de comportement à l’acte IV, regard de braise et scène un peu olé-olé (si sage comparée à la mise en scène de Bozonnet où lui et Florence Viala ont failli faire leur affaire sur scène) ; c’est un autre Tartuffe qui retire son masque, celui d’un homme extrêmement froid et calculateur. Bref, pour moi l’interprétation la plus intéressante (sans prendre en compte mon admiration personnelle pour ce comédien). Une pièce que je trouve “redécouverte” par le biais du théâtre à la table qui donne toujours un éclairage autre. 

[brooklynfoodie]

How to Freeze Collard Greens (3 Easy Steps to Freezing Collards)

[barryhuff]

My Cut - 3rd Revision  (Fiction Story)

“It’s better to avoid the cut, than it is to heal the wound,” Minister Christine Steves warned firmly as she stood behind the wooden podium at the front of her church buried by layers of preaching robe fabric. 

Subdued choruses of “Mm-hmms” from the nodding heads of the sisters filling the auditorium replied back.

 “I said, ‘It’s better to avoid the cut, than it is to heal the wound!” she announced with more volume.

 More subtle murmurs.

"Now...!" Minister Christine sang out, beads of sweat framing her face, "Turn to somebody close to you, and say, 'It's better to..."

Obediently, her congregation of “Big Mommas”, elderly men, and restless children shift in unison like well-dressed, brown-faced, ocean waves, and toward the person seated next to them in the stiff-backed pew.

However, I sat straight-up and stare at that nigguh two pews up who owed me $20 from March 7, 1994.  Sooner or later, I was gonna get my money.

 "It's better to...," the church body parroted together.

 "A-VOOOOOID the cut," Minister Christine sang out as she leaned over the podium as if she needed to give herself the Heimlich Maneuver.  Her billowy, preaching robe flowed forward like icing being applied to a cake that was still too warm.

 "A-VOOOOID the cut!" the alto-voice of the congregation echoed back.

 I sat stone-faced, concentrating on that $20 stealing-nigguh.

 "Boy...," my concentration interrupted by rapid-fire tapping on my shoulder.

I turn slowly to my left, my eyes dark angry slits.  I didn't know anyone in this church.  I just wanted my money. "What?" I growled.

 "Boy...," she repeated, through her clenched teeth, lips pressed tightly, like she was about 10 seconds away from pinching me like my Momma used to when my brother and I started acting up.  "Say what you supposed tuh," she whispered.

I shrugged her gloved finger off my shoulder roughly and continued to stare at her.  The pearl earrings, matching the pearl-colored veil that rained down from her small hat tilted slightly on the corner of her head.  A true church O.G.

"Say. What. You. Sup-posed. Tuh. Say," she demanded quietly.  Her probing finger had regained its perch on my shoulder, joined by its pinching partner - her thumb.  

Uh-uh, I thought to myself.  I know this bi-

 “...to heal the wound!” Minister Christine called out to her people, layers of fabric pouring off her extended arms.

 “...To heal the wound!” the Church O.G. screamed out, staring at me wildly.  Her pincers ready to snag the skin off my shoulder at any second. “Say it!” she screamed.

 I stared back silently, equally wild-eyed.  Other crowned church O.G.s start turning their heads toward us, including that $20 owin’ fool.

“Say it!” she screamed again, raising her white-gloved, left-hand in the air as if she was wanting a teacher to call on her in a classroom of her youth.  Her white-gloved right-hand was still in a strike-ready position on my shoulder.

“Say it!” 

Suddenly the organ pounded twice in syllabic rhythm to Church O.G.’s demand.

“Say it!”  Two more organ harmonies again echoed back.

Several other church OGs stood up around me, arms raised, gloved fingers spread out like they were trying to block a Lebron James last second-shot, and screaming so loudly their throats must have felt like they were gargling broken glass.  “Say it!” they cried.  

Two more harmonies from the organ, joined by the keyboard, bass, and lead guitar.  

More Church O.G.s started to rise up, each belting out “Say It!”  The music was now loud and continuous.  Everyone, except me, was on their feet praising the “Lawd”.

I could no longer see that $20 bastard through the thick layers of O.G.s.  I’m sure that slippery nigguh was out the door of the church, and off with my money.

“Avoid the Cut!” I yelled out threateningly, hoping he could somehow hear me through the forest of swaying bodies and raised arms begging for the Holy Ghost.  I patted the front pocket of shirt to make sure my Camels were ready to smoke once I walked out of here.

“You sound just like him!” Denise breathlessly called out over the pulsing  cackles of her brothers and sisters.

“Nigguh, no you don’t!” Damon hissed silencing his brothers and sisters sitting underneath the tall, thick pecan tree. Forgotten branches and bark littered the ground of the brittle tree. Their mother was only there in spirit, and not physically there with her arms crossed, lips pursed and cocked to the side, one eyebrow raised, casually asking, “Why don’t one of you pick up those branches?”

A question that couldn’t be easily ignored, because Momma was their Daddy’s woman. Their Daddy seemed to be tuned into anything that would have her continue to cook for him, wash his clothes, give him silence in his home, and provide him with some not-so-subtle night time romance.  And if it meant surgically slicing the legs of their kids in order to continue to get these things, then so be it.

“All that damn proper-talking was getting on my God-”

Damon coughed, as if he heard his mother’s warning about using her Lord’s name in vain in the whispers of the leaves dancing on the breeze above him.

“Got-damn nerves,” he corrected himself unaware that his eyes cautiously darted left and right.

“Look at this nigguh here,” Deacon laughed.  

The only people brave enough to call him Deacon instead of his preferred “Deek” was Momma and Daddy.   Although Damon once called him “Deez” as kids.

“Why Deez,” an 11 year old Deacon asked then his 13 year old brother on the bus after school, “and not Deek?”

Damon stood up on the moving bus, grabbed the crotch of his blue jeans, lifted his head to the ceiling, and screamed, “DEEEEEEEZ nuts!”

Damon and Deacon easily slipped into arguments and fights everyday of their relationship after that point.

“He thinks Daddy rotten carcass is gonna pop up and give his ass yet another whoopin!” Damon chuckled.

The circle of graying brothers and sisters start to laugh again.

Denise’s toes burrowed deeply in the moist dirt, as weak anchors for her white plastic lawn chair on its relentless rotation onto its unsteady back legs.  Denise’s left arm slips off the armrest, causing her fingers to graze the tops of the thick bladed grass.

She breathes in deeply, and closes her eyes expecting darkness.

Not the unknowable darkness of death -- only her dead father and mother could speak to that. Her darkness felt like soothing water in its inevitable pursuit to quickly drench and consume dry body parts -- even to the point of consuming sound as it fills the crevices of the ears.  Clear voices become muffled and eventually silent the deeper a submerged body travels.

In the silence she could again feel the blades of grass in the yard.  This time, each blade reaching out to her, caressing her feet, teasing her ears.  Reminding her that the only way to cool the burning soles of her 10 year-old sidewalk blackened, bare feet was to hustle five houses down to Mr. Walton’s yard. 

“Put on your shoes, Girl!” Momma’s fading voice demanded in the vacuum of the silence.

Denise stares down at the tops of her little girl feet as they take turns pressing down on the sidewalk radiating the scalding punishment expected from it’s solar summertime master.  She feels the thick air moving through many shiny, oiled parts of her braided hair. The parted hair looking like a map of countless, unlabeled, intersecting streets.  Each square block of parts bordering its own small limp braid. 

Houses blur past her as she gains momentum towards Mr. Walton’s.

His face glistens like wet coffee grounds, underneath his straw, wide-brimmed hat.  Quietly, he works his yard.  Spreading piles of dirt, cutting, trimming, repeat.  Against the sun-bleached sidewalk, his yard glows green like a full pot of freshly cooked collard-greens.    

And the reward to stubborn, naked feet, was cooling off for a moment in Mr. Walton’s creation.  Soothing blistered feet in his finely crafted suburban front yard for three seconds before he could growl, “Get yo’ black-ass out my yard!”

Bright light forces its way through Denise’s eyelids causing her to wince.  

“Neese! Neese!”  

“Stop calling her that!  Yo’ drunk ass know she hates that nickname!”

“Neese! Neese!”

“You all right, Girl?”  

“Y’all always breaking my shit! Leaning back and breaking the legs of my chairs!  That’s why I cain’t get anything!”

“Serves her right for acting like she ain’t never heard that story before.  She and all y’all are God..Got-Damn fools!”

“Nigguh shut yo’ ass up!  It was funny.  Yo’ black ass always with his lip poked out like you fixin-nuh get a whooping!  Shit...I’ll beat a smile onto yo’ face right now!”

“Neese...uh, Denise!”

Her eyes slide away the mist of memory.  The cackles become the familiar faces of her family staring down on her like they have always done.  Faces full of critique and disdain.

[denisedukes]

LET FOOD BE THY MEDICINE! I know it is allergy season so here are some healthy tips to help you get through it: ALLERGIES: Eat all RAW fruits and vegetables that can be tolerated BRONCHITIS: Apricots, Asparagus, Beans, Beet Greens, Broccoli, Cabbage, Cantaloupe, Carrots, Corn, Dandelion Greens, Dates, Endives, Elderberry, Garlic, Kale, Leeks, Lettuce, Mustard Greens, Onion, Oranges, Papaya, Parsley, Pecans, Peaches, Peas, Pineapple, Plums, Potatoes (sweet), Prunes, Rhubarb, Spinach, Tangerines, Turnip Greens, Watercress MUCOUS MEMBRANES (INFLAMMATION): Barley, Collard Greens, Mushrooms, Raw Peanuts, Peas, Potatoes, Brown Rice, Soybeans, Tomatoes, Turnip Greens Hers's To Your Health🍏 Denise McClain Dukes www.GiveMe90Days.com #giveme90days #holisticbodyhacker #naturallyorganicyou #luxurybodysculpting #letfoodbethymedicine #plantbasedlifestyle #veganfood (at Montgomery, Alabama) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw9zJQlpiuH/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=11d5wq85qqtvi

[naturallyorganicyou]

Denise's Healthy Plant Based Family Meal on a Budget $$: Kale Sweet Potato Soup🏃‍♀️🏃‍♂️🏋️‍♂️🚴‍♀️ Ingredients & Instructions: Organic Vegan Creamy Protein Broth (I use "Sam's Choice" bought at Walmart) Fresh Frozen Kale Greens Fresh Frozen Collard Greens Fresh Frozen Black Eyed Peas Fresh Frozen Sweet Pototaes Canned Black Beans (I use Bush's brand) Fresh Frozen Red, Yellow, Orange Bell Peppers Fresh Onions Minced Garlic Mushrooms (I use the Green Giant sliced mushrooms in the glass container) Cilantro Oregano Dill Weed Bay Leaves Cayenne Pepper Hymalian Pink Sea Salt Black Pepper Mix ingredients together in a crockpot and cook low overnight to allow the flavors of the vegetables and spices to fuse together. You will wake up to the smell and taste of Heaven! P.S. You can add cooked long grain and wild rice, brown rice or Yellow rice as a nice compliment to the soup. Join my 90 Day Challenge "Living A Disease Free Life" www.GiveMe90Days.com Here's To Your Health🍏 Denise M Dukes #giveme90days #denisemdukes #plantbasedlifestyle #foodforthesoul #eatyourveggies #alkaline #healthylifestyle #letfoodbethymedicine #plantbasedprotein #90daychallenge (at Montgomery, Alabama) https://www.instagram.com/p/BvPmdPjJ07Y/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=heiomp6dymjq

[sophiarose1816]

It’s Monday!  What Are You Reading? #46

It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? is a place to meet up and share what you have been, are and about to be reading over the week.  It’s a great post to organise yourself. It’s an opportunity to visit and comment, and er… add to that ever growing TBR pile! So welcome in everyone. This meme started with J Kaye’s Blog   and then was taken up by Sheila from Book Journey. Sheila then passed it on to Kathryn at the Book Date. And here we are!

What Did I Read This Last Week?

Murder with Collard Greens and Hot Sauce by A.L. Herbert

#3 Mahalia Watkins Soul Food Mystery

Cozy Mystery

Easy paced mystery, engaging characters, and oh so delicious food!

The Duke and I by Julia Quinn

#1 The Bridgertons

Historical Romance

Fun family and fake courtship! Take charge heroine and a hero who needs to feel loved and appreciated after an abusive and neglectful upbringing.

The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches by Alan Bradley, Narrated by Jayne Entwistle

#6 Flavia de Luce

Historical Mystery

Emotions and grief are fresh when her mother’s remains are returned home, but murder and intrigue a worthy distraction for Flavia.

A Dangerous Collaboration by Deanna Raybourn

#4 Veronica Speedwell

Historical Romantic Suspense

Atmospheric Cornish mystery setting and Veronica forced to confront her true feelings when the unthinkable happens.

Offstage in Nuala by Harriet Steel, Narrated by Matthew Lloyd Davies

#3 Inspector de Silva

Historical Mystery

Shanti investigates murder back stage and discovers even Archie Clutterbuck is hiding something.

A Man Called Trent: A Western Duo by Louis L’Amour, Narrated by Jim Gough

#1-2 Kilkenny

Western Historical Fiction

Classic western gunfighter to the rescue of the underdogs in cattle wars and rustling mysteries.

Wild Irish Heart by Tricia O’Malley

#1 Mystic Cove

Paranormal Romance

I enjoyed this moderately well considering the heroine drove me nuts and had a few stupid moments.

Season of the Raven by Denise Domning, Narrated by Gildart Jackson

#1 Servant of the Crown

Historical Mystery

First book was excellent.  Loved Faucon and the medieval setting!

WHAT AM I READING NOW?

Logan’s Lady by Rosanne Bittner

Historical Romance

WHAT WILL I READ NEXT?

Secrets Never Die by Melinda Leigh, Narrated by Cris Dukehart

#5 Morgan Dane

Romantic Suspense

[kreatingvip]

The Beginning of the End-Quote

The Beginning of the End- Quote

“Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” - Ecclesiastes 7:8King James Version (KJV)

By Ken Overman Many moons ago, a wise king decided to write a book called Ecclesiastes. I decided to use a quote from his writings. This quote was written by one of the wisest men to ever live, King Solomon. He wrote the book in self-reflection and contemplation.   For supportive reasons in philosophical teachings, I used the wisest man ecclesiastics as the opening quote for my book.“Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” - Ecclesiastes 7:8King James Version (KJV)The quote isn’t necessarily used to say that the end of the world will be better than its creation.  Assuming you saw the book cover image, which is a nuclear explosion spreading fire and debris. I intend to use the quote in a broader context for all the problematic analysis that is covered throughout the book. The plot exposes many of our present social and personal disorders; racism, alcoholism, capitalism and terrorism. The quote is also fitting because, as a story-line climaxes, it soon ends. Then another character’s life is introduced. The story starts with a woman named Robin, realizing that she was close to the end of her life. She could see her beauty fading and feel her health diminishing. In her assessments, she made an irrational decision to force her husband to spend time with her, before it was too late. As a result, a chain of negative events happened that forever changed her life.  The story-line emphasizes how we should love older age and embrace that we are survivors. God made a way for us throughout the years!"The quote is also fitting because, as a story-line climaxes, it soon ends. Then another character’s life is introduced. "Robin’s story was a main focal point because the fear of mortality is a problem within society. People don’t realize that life is eternal. When a person understands eternal relationships, they will not make fear based decisions. They embrace the beauty of their older age. Elders express the wisdom earned over the years, to those coming behind them. In turn, the youth benefit with purpose enriching their lives. Senior citizenship is a great time to see your grandchildren, full of energy, ready to carry out your legacy.Another topic included within the story is trust. Denise and Robert are newlyweds that still hold secrets. Openness and true love can surpass all negative connotations that trouble marriages. Being honest and trusting your partner's judgement are the best ways for a relationship to work. Both people must come to grips with their goals and share them with their counterpart. Dishonesty festers a lack of faith in your spouse, which is the beginning of the relationships destruction. To improve the end results, Denise and Robert finally humbled themselves to each other and God.

Photo by Toby Hoos on Unsplash

Photo by Luca Baggio on Unsplash twilight image Regarding capitalism, the mentality of Tibb’s Plastics company forgets the contributions of employees. Corporate America is not aware that most CEOs are just a step away from poverty and struggle. The CEO Oscar’s experiences emphasize that we are all the same.  Business owners withholding proper distribution of wages and bonuses create hostility – and Karma may come. The result of more CEO’s perception shifting, could transform the imbalance of wealth and poverty. The beginning of a fair economy, and the end of corporate slavery, is a start. The planet has enough resources to provide for all the people. No longer should the 1% hoard all the wealth.Another character named Morgan suffers from alcoholism. During the quarantine he gets sober. He realizes that memories and abilities he treasured, are slipping away. He revels in happiness comprehending that water is a cure. Better was the end of Morgan’s alcoholism, then his beginning drunkenness.Most drug abusers chase the better high. They seek false happiness, instead of dealing with reality. Oh, how much better it is for a sober father to be off meth and back with his children. They can love him and again trust his judgment. An alcoholic that restrains from drinking restores good liver and kidney functions. The benefits are enjoyed by an ex-smoker, who can receive and process the Prana. Their lifespan is statistically prolonged. Beginning the use of those intoxicants commenced the ruin of the body and relationships. It is better to end those habits.Next, we journey with an African American, male, named Kerry James. He experiences racial stereotypes by coworkers in the workplace. However, Kerry is able to overcome. He perseveres, by way of diligence, focus, and understanding.As the crisis boiled, and the poisonous quarantine lagged, Kerry continued his maintenance work inside the building. Coworkers began losing morale, due to witnessing death. Kerry focused on solutions. At one point, a Caucasian, male, coworker pointed a gun at him. Kerry talked to the man until he was able to see that we are all products of our planet. So, the man lowers the gun and begins hugging him. He and his wife agree to join Kerry’s crisis council. The focus of the meeting is unity and regrouping as a community.Kerry’s journey emphasizes how communication encourages mutual understanding. He invites and motivates others, as he reaches an epiphany, both psychologically and spiritually.Presently, in this country we are seeing flashes of different groups, expressing their need to be violent and separate. However, we are all of the Same Spirit, hoping that our children will be able to live in peace. This is what made Kerry’s epiphany such a great thing. He realized that we are all in the same boat. Human beings trying to live our best, maintain our resources, making a way for our children, in this humongous galaxy. The end of racism will be a beautiful day.Author’s note:‘Today I made cornbread from milk and organic eggs, creating with a sensation of endless possibilities. A  Crock-Pot Manual slow cooker was used to  marinate spices until zenith. Eventually, the product was made. While eating it with smoked turkey, black eyed peas, and Glory Collard Greens, but I wasn’t sure.With a full stomach, I sat back pleased. I couldn’t eat any dessert. Yet, I was satisfied. I pondered, if the beginning of a thing is better than the end? As I digested the situation further, I reached the end of a thing, which was eating to live- not living to eat. Spread the word Facebook Twitter Google-plus Linkedin Snapchat Subscribe to our newsletter “Kreating Lucrative Opportunities, LLC are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.” Facebook Twitter Instagram Navigation Home About Blog Store Contact Privacy Terms And Conditions Newsletter Read the full article

[healthbolt-blog]

New Post has been published on Health bolt

New Post has been published on http://www.healthbolt.net/cooking/how-to-cook-red-meat-healthy/

How To Cook Red Meat Healthy

Contents

Oil. “if the

Recipes spinach salads

Plan — consider these three

Healthy eating: those

Saff said the red meat allergy passed by the lone star tick is so new that health agencies still do not track it. Dorshow-Gordon said it isn’t tracked in her department. The alpha-gal allergy, as the red meat allergy is known, is actually …

As if there weren’t enough reasons to avoid ticks, a symptom can develop in which a bite from a certain kind of tick causes an allergic reaction to red meat … said the red meat allergy passed by the lone star tick is so new that health agencies …

How To Cook Turnip Greens Healthy Contents Registered rice; reduce the heat latin Spinach recipes spinach The flavor when cooking oatmeal aside Constantly around food One study investigating turnip greens nutrition found that, by far, the greatest proportion of vitamins and minerals in turnip plants are found within the greens – with about 96 percent of the plant’s carotene (vitamin A) and about 84 percent of the B vitamins being stored inside the leaf blades. Ways To Cook Okra Healthy Contents Contents that includes Culinary series that helps Healthy cooking with coconut The family. registered rice; reduce the heat latin american and What Cooking Oil Is Healthy For You contents that includes creamed spinach and thighs And thighs with pineapple-mint … but Andrea barnes shows Chef eric’s culinary series that helps Cooking oil is plant, animal, or synthetic fat used in frying, baking, and other types of cooking. It is also used in food preparation and flavouring not involving heat, such as salad dressings and bread dips, and in this sense might be more accurately termed edible oil. “if the diet is done right, you can lose a substantial amount of weight,” says Josh Axe, doctor of natural medicine and clinical nutritionist. But weight loss aside, is … Healthy Cooking For Two Recipes Contents Healthy cooking panini Quick-cooking fish adds protein and Preheat skillet over Two(ish) people for one Will save you time Kc Healthy Cooking Miami Contents And delicious meals every night Foreman grill recipes are Mclean returns this post was East side community Also ideal for people who Find quick and easy no-cook Cooked Spinach Recipes Healthy Contents Griddle and half Will save you Marinade that includes creamed spinach and thighs with pineapple-mint … but Healthy … spinach recipes spinach salads … This is a fabulous lasagna made with an artichoke and spinach mixture which has been cooked with … Check out his original recipe for Southern Modified Shrimp Cilantro Pasta below … To the same pot, add 1 tablespoon of olive oil and boil pasta for … How To Cook Collard Greens Healthy Contents Johnson taught fox4’s Greens like kale Recipes are fast School offering recreational Are easy chicken dinners The catchword for today’s health-conscious Even novice gardeners can produce delicious food that can improve an already healthy diet … this recently famous green should be in every garden this year. If … check out this wrap from Gangsta Goodies Kitchen. Shelia johnson taught fox4’s Mark Alford how to make the award-winning "not your mama’s collard greens." Peel and cut both sweet potatoes into small chunks and rinse well. Place … greens like kale, spinach, lettuce, and collard greens are great alkaline foods to incorporate, so this Kale and Golden Beet Salad will make the perfect light … How To Cook Collard Greens … So, since I was feeling WAY over my limit on the grease, I googled “collard greens recipe healthy”, and voila! healthy cooking with coconut Oil Recipes Contents Contents free chicken They are fried and loaded with World. olive oil

How to Make Your Meat as Healthy as Possible. Written by Kris Gunnars, BSc on February 16, 2018. Denise Minger is a former vegan and very popular blogger. She is well-known for her thorough debunking of the China study. The video above is her presentation at the 2012 Ancestral Health Symposium, Meet Your Meat: An Objective Look at a …

Healthy Way To Cook Sweet Potato Fries Contents This recipe delivers Recipes will save you Cooking: authentic recipes Cooking for two recipes contents healthy And preheat skillet For one will save you time Craving french fries? Whip up these oven-roasted sweet-potato wedges instead. A healthier way to satisfy those cravings, this recipe delivers more taste too, with a kick provided by mustard, garlic, and rosemary. Naturally Healthy Mexican Cooking Contents Creamed spinach and thighs and thighs Two recipes contents healthy Has been cooked with Are fast unhealthy fats Quinoa recipes will save you Naturally Healthy Mexican cooking: authentic recipes for Dieters, Diabetics, and All Food Lovers (Joe R. and Teresa Lozano Long Series in Latin American and Latino Art and Culture) [Jim Peyton] on Amazon.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. RELATED: Healthy juice comes to La Encantada “It’s good to get the Mexican cuisine out there, our food is all natural ingredients, all organic and we are … What Cooking Oil Is Healthy For You Contents That includes creamed spinach and thighs and thighs with pineapple-mint … but Andrea barnes shows Chef eric’s culinary Series that helps Cooking oil is plant, animal, or synthetic fat used in frying, baking, and other types of cooking. It is also used in food preparation and flavouring not involving heat, such as salad dressings and bread dips, and in this sense might be more accurately termed edible oil. “If the diet is done right, you can lose a substantial amount of weight,” says Josh Axe, doctor of natural medicine and clinical nutritionist. But weight loss aside, is … Healthy cooking for two recipes contents healthy cooking panini Quick-cooking fish adds protein and preheat skillet over Two(ish) people for one will save you time Kc Healthy Cooking Miami Contents And delicious meals every night Foreman grill recipes are Mclean returns this post was East side community Also ideal for people who Find quick and easy no-cook Cooked Spinach Recipes Healthy Contents Griddle and half Will save you Marinade that includes creamed spinach and thighs with pineapple-mint … but Healthy … Spinach Recipes Spinach salads … This is a fabulous lasagna made with an artichoke and spinach mixture which has been cooked with … Check out his original recipe for Southern Modified Shrimp Cilantro Pasta below … To the same pot, add 1 tablespoon of olive oil and boil pasta for … How To Cook Collard Greens Healthy Contents Johnson taught fox4’s Greens like kale Recipes are fast School offering recreational Are easy chicken dinners The catchword for today’s health-conscious Even novice gardeners can produce delicious food that can improve an already healthy diet … this recently famous green should be in every garden this year. If … check out this wrap from Gangsta Goodies Kitchen. Shelia johnson taught fox4’s Mark Alford how to make the award-winning "not your mama’s collard greens." Peel and cut both sweet potatoes into small chunks and rinse well. Place … greens like kale, spinach, lettuce, and collard greens are great alkaline foods to incorporate, so this Kale

Keep It Lean: How to Cook Meat and Fish You’ve got your meat or fish and you’re ready to cook a healthy meal. Do you know which cooking techniques will maximize flavor and minimize fat? Do you know which cooking techniques will …

Before you cook red meat, you should trim it. To trim red meat, use a sharp knife to cut off all easily accessible fat. By pinching the fat and pulling it away from the cut, you create tension. This tension allows a sharp knife to slide easily between the meat and fat. Once you have finished trimming the meat, cut it into 3-ounce serving sizes or cube it …

There are a lot of disturbing things about the allergy to red … make them sensitive to a sugar compound (alpha-galactose) that exists in mammal products. Certain people develop more sensitivity than others, and a few can tolerate small …

there are still benefits to including moderate amounts of red meat in a balanced diet. If you eat meat like beef — or are thinking of adding it to your meal plan — consider these three things to make the most of your choices. The part of the …

Healthy Cooking Recipes For Teenages Contents For one will save you And boil pasta for They are fried and loaded with Food monster app for more recipes With coconut the family. registered rice Smith has learned about healthy This is all about healthy eating: those in need walk away with fruits and veggies and even recipes on how to make the most … resource you can look for … Naturally Healthy Mexican Cooking Contents Creamed spinach and thighs and thighs Two recipes contents healthy Has been cooked with Are fast unhealthy fats Quinoa recipes will save you Naturally Healthy Mexican Cooking: Authentic Recipes for Dieters, Diabetics, and All Food Lovers (Joe R. and Teresa Lozano Long Series in Latin American and Latino Art and Culture) [Jim Peyton] on Amazon.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. RELATED: Healthy juice comes to La Encantada “It’s good to get the Mexican cuisine out there, our food is all natural ingredients, all organic and we are … What Cooking Oil Is Healthy For You Contents That includes creamed spinach and thighs and thighs with pineapple-mint … but Andrea barnes shows Chef eric’s culinary Series that helps Cooking oil is plant, animal, or synthetic fat used in frying, baking, and other types of cooking. It is also used in food preparation and flavouring not involving heat, such as salad dressings and bread dips, and in this sense might be more accurately termed edible oil. “If the diet is done right, you can lose a substantial amount of weight,” says Josh Axe, doctor of natural medicine and clinical nutritionist. But weight loss aside, is … Healthy Cooking For two recipes contents healthy cooking panini Quick-cooking fish adds protein and Preheat skillet over Two(ish) people for one will save you time Kc Healthy Cooking Miami Contents And delicious meals every night Foreman grill recipes are Mclean returns this post was East side community Also ideal for people who Find quick and easy no-cook Cooked Spinach Recipes Healthy Contents Griddle and half Will save you Marinade that includes creamed spinach and thighs with pineapple-mint … but Healthy … Spinach Recipes Spinach salads … This is a fabulous lasagna made with an artichoke and spinach mixture which has been cooked with … Check out his original recipe for Southern Modified Shrimp Cilantro Pasta below … To the same pot, add 1 tablespoon of olive oil and boil pasta for … How To Cook Collard Greens Healthy Contents Johnson taught fox4’s Greens like kale Recipes are fast School offering recreational Are easy chicken dinners The catchword for today’s health-conscious Even novice gardeners can produce delicious food that can improve an already healthy diet … this recently famous green should be in every garden this year. If … check out this wrap from Gangsta Goodies Kitchen. Shelia johnson taught fox4’s Mark Alford how to make the award-winning "not your mama’s collard greens." Peel and cut both sweet potatoes into small chunks and rinse well. Place … greens like kale, spinach, lettuce, and collard greens are great alkaline

[lucasfiorella-blog]

Réalisation : Lucien Beucher & Jean Lanteri 

Avec : Fabrice Beucher 

Chef Opérateur : Antoine May 

Chef Électro : Pierre Oger 

Assistante Cam : Sophie Sacareau 

Seconde AC : Kelly Pradels

 Ingénieur du son : Matthieu Bizet 

Déco : Louise Feugier 

Costume : Lorette Collard 

Accessoiriste :Margaux Drct 

Maquillage : Emma Mangin 

Montage : Lucien Beucher

Composition : Météo Mirage 

Mixage : Lucas Fiorella 

Voix off : Léna Wattez et Keyvna Denise 

Fx : Lucien Beucher 

Étalonnage : Arnaud Laurent Location 

matériel : SosCine 

Merci à tous nos figurant(e)s

[brooklynfoodie]

How to Freeze Collard Greens (3 Easy Steps to Freezing Collards)

[barryhuff]

My Cut - Additions Added (Fiction Story)

“It’s better to avoid the cut, than it is to heal the wound,” Minister Christine Steves said firmly as she stood behind the wooden podium at the front of her church buried by the layers of preaching robe fabric. 

Subdued choruses of “Mm-hmms” from the nodding heads of the sisters filling the auditorium reply back.

 “I said, ‘It’s better to avoid the cut, than it is to heal the wound!” she announced with more volume.

 More subtle murmurs.

"Now...!" Minister Christine sang out, beads of sweat framing her face, "Touch somebody close to you, and say, 'It's better to..."

Obediently, her congregation of “Big Mommas”, elderly men, and restless children shift in unison like well-dressed, brown-faced, ocean waves, and turn to the person seated next to them. 

However, I sit straight-up and stare at that n***** two pews up who owed me $20 from March 7, 1994.  Sooner or later, I was gonna get my money.

 "It's better to...," the church body parroted together.

 "A-VOOOOOID the cut," Minister Christine sang out as she leaned over the podium as if she needed to give herself the Heimlich Maneuver.  Her billowy, preaching robe flowed forward like icing being applied to a cake that was still too warm.

 "A-VOOOOID the cut!" alto-voice of the congregation echoed back.

 I sat stone-faced, concentrating on that $20 stealing-N*****.

 "Boy...," my concentration interrupted by rapid-fire tapping on my shoulder.

I turn slowly to my left, my eyes dark angry slits.  I didn't know anyone in this church.  I just wanted my money. "What?" I growled.

 "Boy...," she repeated, through her clenched teeth, lips pressed tightly, like she was about 10 seconds away from pinching me like my Momma used to when my brother and I started acting up in church.  "Say what you supposed tuh," she whispered.

I shrugged her gloved finger off my shoulder roughly, and continued to stare at her.  The pearl earrings, matching the pearl-colored veil that rained down from her small hat tilted ever-so slightly on the corner of her head.  A true church O.G.

"Say. What. You. Supposed. To. Say," she demanded quietly.  Her probing finger had regained its perch on my shoulder, joined by its pinching partner - her thumb.  

Uh-uh, I thought to myself.  I know this bi-

 “...to heal the wound!” Minister Christine called out to her people, layers of fabric pouring off her extended arms.

 “...To heal the wound!” the Church O.G. screamed out, staring at me wildly.  Her pincers ready to snag the skin off my shoulder at any second. “Say it!” she screamed.

 I stared back silently, equally wild-eyed.  Other crowned church O.G.s start turning their heads toward us, including that $20 owin’ fool.

“Say it!” she screamed again, raising her white-gloved, left-hand in the air as if she was wanting a teacher to call on her in a long ago classroom.  Her white-gloved right-hand was still in a strike-ready position on my shoulder.

“Say it!” 

Suddenly the organ pounded twice in syllabic rhythm to Church O.G.’s demand.

“Say it!”  Two more echoing organ harmonies again rang out from the pulpit.

Several other church OGs stood up around me, arms raised, gloved fingers spread out like they were trying to block a Lebron James last second-shot, and screaming so loudly their throats must have felt like they were gargling broken glass.  “Say it!” they cried.  

Two echoing harmonies from the organ, joined by the keyboard, bass, and lead guitar.  

Several more Church O.G.s started to rise up, each belting out “Say It!”  The music was now loud and continuous.  Everyone, except me, was on their feet praising the “Lawd”.

I could no longer see that $20 bastard through the forest of O.G.s.  I’m sure that slippery n***** was out the door of the church, and off with my money.

 “Avoid the Cut!” I yelled out threateningly, hoping he could somehow hear me forest of arms Holy Ghost arms.

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

“You sound just like him!” Denise breathlessly called out over the pulsing  cackles of her brothers and sisters sitting.  Her toes burrowed deeply in the moist dirt, anchoring the white plastic lawn chair as it slowly leaned onto it’s back legs. Weak from laughter, Denise’s left arm slipped off the armrest.  Her fingers grazed the tops of the thick bladed grass.

 She breathed in deeply, and closed her eyes expecting darkness. Instead of darkness, there was silence.  

In the silence she could again feel the blades of grass in the yard.  This time, each blade reaching out to her, caressing her feet, teasing her ears.  Reminding her that the only way to cool the burning soles of her 10 year-old sidewalk blackened, bare feet was to hustle five houses down to Mr. Walton’s yard. 

“Put on your shoes, Girl!” Momma’s fading voice demanded in the vacuum of silence.

Denise stares down at the tops of her little girl feet as they take turns pressing down on the sidewalk radiating the scalding punishment expected from it’s solar summertime master.  She feels the thick air moving through many shiny, oiled parts of her braided hair. The parted hair looking like a map of countless, unlabeled, intersecting streets.  Each square block of parts bordering its own small limp braid. 

Her feet sizzling, the houses blur past her as she gains momentum towards Mr. Walton’s house.

His face glistened like wet coffee grounds, underneath straw, wide-brimmed hat.  Quietly, he worked his yard.  Spreading piles of dirt, cutting, trimming, repeat.  Against the sun-bleached sidewalk, his yard glowed green like a full pot of freshly cooked collard-greens.    

And the reward to stubborn, naked feet, was cooling off for a moment in Mr. Walton’s creation.  Soothing blistered feet in his finely crafted suburban front yard for the three seconds it took for him to growl, “Get yo black-ass out my yard!” was worth it.

Bright light. 

“Neese! Neese!”  <Voice 1 – Give this a name, Barry>

“Stop calling her that!  Yo’ drunk ass know she hates that nickname!” <Voice 2 – Give this a name, Barry>

“Neese! Neese!” <Voice 1 – Give this a name, Barry>

“You all right, Girl?”  <Voice 3 – Give this a name, Barry>

“Y’all always breaking my shit! Leaning back and breaking the legs of my chairs!  That’s why I cain’t get anything!” <Voice 4 – Give this a name, Barry>

“Serves her right for acting like she ain’t never heard that story before.  She and all y’all are God-Damn fools!” <Voice 5 – Give this a name, Barry>

“Nigguh shut yo’ ass up!  It was funny.  Yo’ black ass always with his lip poked out like you fixin-nuh get a whooping!  Shit...I beat a smile onto yo’ face right now!” <Voice 2 – Give this a name, Barry>

“Neese...uh, Denise!” <Voice 1 – Give this a name, Barry>

Her eyes slide away the mist of memory as she slowly recognizes faces of her family staring down on her like they have always done.  Faces full of critique and disdain. 

“Why am I laying on this damn grass?” Denise mumbles.

[denisedukes]

LET FOOD BE THY MEDICINE! I know it is allergy season so here are some healthy tips to help you get through it: ALLERGIES: Eat all RAW fruits and vegetables that can be tolerated BRONCHITIS: Apricots, Asparagus, Beans, Beet Greens, Broccoli, Cabbage, Cantaloupe, Carrots, Corn, Dandelion Greens, Dates, Endives, Elderberry, Garlic, Kale, Leeks, Lettuce, Mustard Greens, Onion, Oranges, Papaya, Parsley, Pecans, Peaches, Peas, Pineapple, Plums, Potatoes (sweet), Prunes, Rhubarb, Spinach, Tangerines, Turnip Greens, Watercress MUCOUS MEMBRANES (INFLAMMATION): Barley, Collard Greens, Mushrooms, Raw Peanuts, Peas, Potatoes, Brown Rice, Soybeans, Tomatoes, Turnip Greens Hers's To Your Health🍏 Denise McClain Dukes www.GiveMe90Days.com #giveme90days #holisticbodyhacker #naturallyorganicyou #luxurybodysculpting #letfoodbethymedicine #plantbasedlifestyle #veganfood (at Montgomery, Alabama) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw9zCNzJi1J/?igshid=2q82g9iciwb3

[kreatingvip]

The Beginning of the End-Quote

The Beginning of the End- Quote

“Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” - Ecclesiastes 7:8King James Version (KJV)

By Ken Overman Many moons ago, a wise king decided to write a book called Ecclesiastes. I decided to use a quote from his writings. This quote was written by one of the wisest men to ever live, King Solomon. He wrote the book in self-reflection and contemplation.   For supportive reasons in philosophical teachings, I used the wisest man ecclesiastics as the opening quote for my book.“Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” - Ecclesiastes 7:8King James Version (KJV)The quote isn’t necessarily used to say that the end of the world will be better than its creation.  Assuming you saw the book cover image, which is a nuclear explosion spreading fire and debris. I intend to use the quote in a broader context for all the problematic analysis that is covered throughout the book. The plot exposes many of our present social and personal disorders; racism, alcoholism, capitalism and terrorism. The quote is also fitting because, as a story-line climaxes, it soon ends. Then another character’s life is introduced. The story starts with a woman named Robin, realizing that she was close to the end of her life. She could see her beauty fading and feel her health diminishing. In her assessments, she made an irrational decision to force her husband to spend time with her, before it was too late. As a result, a chain of negative events happened that forever changed her life.  The story-line emphasizes how we should love older age and embrace that we are survivors. God made a way for us throughout the years!"The quote is also fitting because, as a story-line climaxes, it soon ends. Then another character’s life is introduced. "Robin’s story was a main focal point because the fear of mortality is a problem within society. People don’t realize that life is eternal. When a person understands eternal relationships, they will not make fear based decisions. They embrace the beauty of their older age. Elders express the wisdom earned over the years, to those coming behind them. In turn, the youth benefit with purpose enriching their lives. Senior citizenship is a great time to see your grandchildren, full of energy, ready to carry out your legacy.Another topic included within the story is trust. Denise and Robert are newlyweds that still hold secrets. Openness and true love can surpass all negative connotations that trouble marriages. Being honest and trusting your partner's judgement are the best ways for a relationship to work. Both people must come to grips with their goals and share them with their counterpart. Dishonesty festers a lack of faith in your spouse, which is the beginning of the relationships destruction. To improve the end results, Denise and Robert finally humbled themselves to each other and God.

Photo by Toby Hoos on Unsplash

Photo by Luca Baggio on Unsplash twilight image Regarding capitalism, the mentality of Tibb’s Plastics company forgets the contributions of employees. Corporate America is not aware that most CEOs are just a step away from poverty and struggle. The CEO Oscar’s experiences emphasize that we are all the same.  Business owners withholding proper distribution of wages and bonuses create hostility – and Karma may come. The result of more CEO’s perception shifting, could transform the imbalance of wealth and poverty. The beginning of a fair economy, and the end of corporate slavery, is a start. The planet has enough resources to provide for all the people. No longer should the 1% hoard all the wealth.Another character named Morgan suffers from alcoholism. During the quarantine he gets sober. He realizes that memories and abilities he treasured, are slipping away. He revels in happiness comprehending that water is a cure. Better was the end of Morgan’s alcoholism, then his beginning drunkenness.Most drug abusers chase the better high. They seek false happiness, instead of dealing with reality. Oh, how much better it is for a sober father to be off meth and back with his children. They can love him and again trust his judgment. An alcoholic that restrains from drinking restores good liver and kidney functions. The benefits are enjoyed by an ex-smoker, who can receive and process the Prana. Their lifespan is statistically prolonged. Beginning the use of those intoxicants commenced the ruin of the body and relationships. It is better to end those habits.Next, we journey with an African American, male, named Kerry James. He experiences racial stereotypes by coworkers in the workplace. However, Kerry is able to overcome. He perseveres, by way of diligence, focus, and understanding.As the crisis boiled, and the poisonous quarantine lagged, Kerry continued his maintenance work inside the building. Coworkers began losing morale, due to witnessing death. Kerry focused on solutions. At one point, a Caucasian, male, coworker pointed a gun at him. Kerry talked to the man until he was able to see that we are all products of our planet. So, the man lowers the gun and begins hugging him. He and his wife agree to join Kerry’s crisis council. The focus of the meeting is unity and regrouping as a community.Kerry’s journey emphasizes how communication encourages mutual understanding. He invites and motivates others, as he reaches an epiphany, both psychologically and spiritually.Presently, in this country we are seeing flashes of different groups, expressing their need to be violent and separate. However, we are all of the Same Spirit, hoping that our children will be able to live in peace. This is what made Kerry’s epiphany such a great thing. He realized that we are all in the same boat. Human beings trying to live our best, maintain our resources, making a way for our children, in this humongous galaxy. The end of racism will be a beautiful day.Author’s note:‘Today I made cornbread from milk and organic eggs, creating with a sensation of endless possibilities. A  Crock-Pot Manual slow cooker was used to  marinate spices until zenith. Eventually, the product was made. While eating it with smoked turkey, black eyed peas, and Glory Collard Greens, but I wasn’t sure.With a full stomach, I sat back pleased. I couldn’t eat any dessert. Yet, I was satisfied. I pondered, if the beginning of a thing is better than the end? As I digested the situation further, I reached the end of a thing, which was eating to live- not living to eat. Spread the word Facebook Twitter Google-plus Linkedin Snapchat Subscribe to our newsletter “Kreating Lucrative Opportunities, LLC are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.” Facebook Twitter Instagram Navigation Home About Blog Store Contact Privacy Terms And Conditions Newsletter Read the full article

[barryhuff]

My Cut (Revised)

“It’s better to avoid the cut, than it is to heal the wound,” Minister Christine Steves warned her congregation firmly, as she stood behind the wooden podium at the front of her church buried by layers of preaching robe fabric. 

Subdued choruses of “Mm-hmms” sounded back from the nodding heads of the sisters filling the auditorium.

“I said, ‘It’s better to avoid the cut, than it is to heal the wound!’” she announced with more volume.

More subtle murmurs.

"Now...!" Minister Christine sang out, beads of sweat framing her face, "Turn to somebody close to you, and say, 'It's better to..."

Obediently, her congregation of “Big Mommas”, elderly men, and restless children shifted in unison like well-dressed, brown-faced, ocean waves, and toward the person next to them in the stiff-backed pew.

However, I sat straight-up and stared at that nigguh two pews up who owed me $20 from March 7, 1994.  Sooner or later, I was gonna get my money.

"It's better to...," the church body parroted together.

"A-VOOOOOID the cut," Minister Christine sang out as she leaned over the podium, as if she needed to give herself the Heimlich Maneuver.  Her billowy, preaching robe flowed forward like icing being applied to a cake that was still too warm.

 "A-VOOOOID the cut!" the alto-voice of the congregation echoed back.

Concentrating on that $20 stealing-nigguh, I sat stone-faced, .

"Boy...," a voice called, interrupting my focus..

I turn slowly to my left, my eyes dark angry slits.  I didn't know anyone in this church.  I just wanted my money. "What?" I growled.

"Boy...," she whispered through the pearl-colored veil that rained down from her small hat tilted slightly on the corner of her head, "Say. What. You. Sup-posed. Tuh. Say.” 

A true church O.G.

Uh-uh, I thought to myself.  I know this bi-

“...to heal the wound!” Minister Christine called out to her people, more layers of fabric pouring off her extended arms.

“...To heal the wound!” the Church O.G. bellowed, head raised to the ceiling.

Turning her head toward me, wild focused eyes piercing my own, she screamed to me, “Say it!”.

Unfazed, I stared back silently, equally wild-eyed.  Other crowned church O.G.s start turning their heads toward us, including that $20 owin’ fool.

“Say it!” she screamed again, raising her white-gloved, left-hand in the air, as if she wanted a teacher to call on her in a classroom of her youth.  The fingertips of her white-gloved right-hand assumed a strike-ready perch on my shoulder, as if she was about ten seconds away from pinching me like my Momma used to, when my brother and I started acting up.

“Say it!” 

Suddenly the organ pounded twice in syllabic rhythm to Church O.G.’s demand.

“Say it!”  Two more organ harmonies again echoed back.

Several other church OGs stood up around me, arms raised, gloved fingers spread out like they were trying to block a Lebron James last second-shot, and screaming so loudly their throats must have felt like they were gargling broken glass.  “Say it!” they cried out.

Two more harmonies from the organ, joined by the keyboard, bass, and lead guitar.  

More Church O.G.s started to rise up, each belting out, “Say It!”  The music was now loud and continuous.  Everyone, except me, was on their feet praising the “Lawd”.

I could no longer see that $20 bastard through the thick layers of O.G.s.  I’m sure that slippery nigguh was out the door of the church, and off with my money.

“Avoid the Cut!” I yelled out threateningly, hoping he could somehow hear me through the forest of swaying bodies and raised arms begging for the Holy Ghost.  I patted the front pocket of my shirt to make sure my Camels were ready to smoke once I walked out of here.

“You sound just like him!” Denise breathlessly called out over the pulsing  cackles of her brothers and sisters.

“Nigguh, no you don’t!” Damon hissed, silencing his brothers and sisters sitting underneath the tall, thick pecan tree surrounded by messy piles of forgotten branches and bark.  Because their long deceased mother was only there in spirit, and not actually brooding over them with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, lips pursed and cocked to the side,  casually asking, “Why don’t one of you pick up those branches?”

It would have been a question that couldn’t be easily ignored, because Momma was Daddy’s woman. And Daddy seemed to be tuned into anything that would have her continue to cook for him, wash his clothes, give him silence in his home, and provide him with some not-so-subtle night time romance.  If it meant surgically slicing the legs of their kids in order to continue to get these things, then so be it.

“All that damn proper-talking was getting on my God-”

Damon coughed, as if he heard his mother’s warning about using her Lord’s name in vain in the whispers of the leaves dancing on the breeze above him.

“Got-damn nerves,” he corrected himself unaware that his eyes cautiously darted left and right.

“Look at this nigguh here,” Deacon laughed, “He thinks Daddy’s rotten carcass is gonna pop up from the grave and give his ass yet another whoopin!”

The circle of graying siblings start to laugh again.

Denise’s toes burrowed deeply in the moist dirt, as weak anchors for her white plastic lawn chair on its relentless rotation onto its unsteady back legs.  Denise’s left arm slipped off the armrest, causing her fingers to graze the tops of the thick bladed grass.

She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, and expected darkness.

Not the unknowable darkness of death -- only her dead father and mother could speak to that. The familiar darkness felt like soothing water in its inevitable pursuit to quickly drench and consume dry body parts -- even to the point of consuming sound, as it filled the crevices of her ears.  Clear voices became muffled and eventually silent the deeper her submerged body sank.

In the silence she could again feel the blades of grass in the yard.  This time, each blade reaching out to her, caressing her feet, teasing her ears.  Reminding her that the only way to cool the burning soles of her ten year-old, sidewalk blackened, bare feet was to hustle five houses down to Mr. Walton’s yard. 

“Put on your shoes, Girl!” Momma’s fading voice demanded in the vacuum of the silence.

Denise stared down at the tops of her now little girl feet, as they took turns pressing down on the sidewalk radiating the scalding punishment from it’s solar, summertime master.  She felt the thick air moving through many shiny, oiled parts of her braided hair. Each parted section of hair looked like a map of countless, unlabeled, intersecting streets bordering its own small limp braid. 

Houses blurred past her, as she gained momentum towards Mr. Walton’s.

His face glistened like wet coffee grounds, underneath his straw, wide-brimmed hat, as he spread piles of dirt.  Against the sun-bleached sidewalk, his yard glowed green like a simmering pot of collard-greens.    

Soothing blistered feet in his finely crafted suburban front yard for three seconds before he could growl, “Get yo’ black-ass out my yard!”, was the reward for her stubbornness.

Bright light forced its way through Denise’s eyelids.  Wincing them tighter, she suddenly felt the sensation of being on her back. Opening one eye, she gradually focused on the nappy canopy of the old pecan tree towering above her.  Sunlight mercilessly spilled through the layers of leaves and cooked her face.

As she raised her right hand, palm to the canopy, to shield her eyes, she tilted her head towards her feet.  Although she was on her back, her thighs reached upward, but lower legs from the knees on down were bent at right angles, resting comfortably on the front of the chair that was still underneath her.

“Neese! Neese!”  

“Stop calling her that!  Yo’ drunk ass know she hates that nickname!”

“Neese! Neese!”

“You all right, Girl?”  

“Y’all always breaking my shit! Leaning back and breaking the legs of my chairs!  That’s why I cain’t get anything!”

“Serves her right for acting like she ain’t never heard that story before.  She and all y’all are God..Got-Damn fools!”

“Nigguh shut yo’ ass up!  It was funny.  Yo’ black ass always with his lip poked out like you fixin-nuh get a whooping!  Shit...I’ll beat a smile onto yo’ face right now!”

“Neese...uh, Denise!”

Her eyes slide away the mist of memory.  The cackles become the familiar faces of her family staring down on her like they have always done.  Faces full of critique and disdain.