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dynamoe · 3 years ago

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Chapter 7: [Syzygy]

also posted on Archive of Our Own for ease of reading Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 ← You Are Here

the story so far: In Seattle for the World Super Science Forum, Billy Quizboy and Mr. White escape from a murderous old man in a wheelchair chasing them from the kick-off cocktail mixer. Over pho, Billy tells White the story of his *actual* boy genius childhood and why he hasn't spoken to his mother since leaving home. Flashback ensues...

tw: bad parenting, juvenile slur

(Approximately 15 years earlier)

“And finally,” the helmet-haired nightly news anchor said, turning to Camera Two jauntily, “The National Spelling Bee is an annual tradition going back to 1926! And for the first time, in addition to 7th and 8th graders from every state, a home-schooled FOUR YEAR OLD has tested into this weekend’s semi-final.”

“Wow, only four years old, “ the lady co-anchor with gigantic hair said, “I can’t even get MY four year old to stop wetting the bed!”

“I’m sure she appreciates you saying that on television, “ the anchor quipped.

“Fuck you, Charles,” the co-anchor said, not even positive the camera was already off and not caring.

↓ continues under the fold ↓

Backstage at Spiro Agnew Magnet High School of Glen Burnie, Maryland’s auditorium, Billy’s mother hovered around him, blow dryer in one hand and curling brush in the other.

“Only one more, water-baby,” she soothed in a sing-song voice while rolling up a swath of hair and pressing the dryer nozzle into it, “Your word is ‘Insouciant.’”

Four-year-olds didn’t cry when they had their hair brushed, despite the excruciating pain and noise to say nothing of the incinerating heat of that infernal hair-dryer. Babies cried and he was not, as he stated earlier, a baby.

Billy pinched his face from the hair-pulling, trying not to cry. “I - N - Sch- O - U - Cshe- I - A - N - T”

“Hot. Hot. Hot,” she whispered to distract, pulling his hair through the heated bristles and leaving it curled under as a perfect mushroom cap, “All done! Your word is ‘Esquamulose’”

“E - Sch- Q - U - A - M - U - L-O - Sch- E,” Billy recited.

She smoothed over the perfect parabola of the pageboy, “Very handsome.” She thanked her lucky stars the style dominated the grade school set. Her boy couldn’t have pulled off a crew cut but he made a fantastic pudding bowl.

“Mama,” he sighed, “I don’t want to do thisch.”

“You do want to do this,” his mother contradicted him, “You want what it leads to even if this particular part of the process isn’t specifically something you want to do.” She threw the big picture at him.

“I’m too little to be here,” he glanced sideways at the other contestants waiting backstage in folding chairs. Thirteen year olds. Middle schoolers. Not with their mothers.

“Your brain is big enough and Dr. Putnam arranged it with the school board and the officiating body to let you participate after you did all the written tests, remember?”

“He’s not a doctor.”

“He’d like us to call him Dr. Putnam.”

“I’d like to schee some paperwork from an accredited body conferring that title.”

“Don’t be mouthy, Billy,” his mother frowned, “Your word is ‘CYMOTRICHOUS’”

“Cshe - Y - M - O - T - R - I-Cshe - H - O - U - Sch ,” he rattled off, “Mama, my schtomach hurts. I want to go home.”

“Those are butterflies, water-baby,” his mother didn’t budge an inch, “Stage fright. It’s psychosomatic.”

“P - Sch - Y - C - H - O -,” Billy spelled, “ Sch - O - M - A - T - I - C.”

“Sometimes before we start things seem harder than they actually are,” Mom reminded him, “Afterward we can go to Magic Pan and have crêpes!”

“They’re not crêpes. They’re palacsinta ,” Billy muttered sourly, “The Magic Pan is owned by Hungarians.”

“You’re being pedantic, sweetie.”

“P - E - D - A - N - T - I - Cshe.”

“I’m right there in the audience, watching. Keep your eyes on me,” Rose smooched his forehead and smoothed his bangs down one last time as she walked for the door “I know you always do your best.” And she was gone, leaving him alone backstage.

Billy sighed, “F-U - Cshe- K M - E.”

Ms. Whalen left her first meeting with Prof. Peebo Putnam (premier talent development manager to boy geniuses, wunderkinder, academic phenoms and whiz kids) with a bug in her ear. He issued a clear directive: Billy had to be “housebroken” before Putnam could take him on as a public-facing client (with implied guaranteed success, naturally).

Within the next six months her son must:

Be able to walk the length of a stage without falling over or throwing up.

Be able to sit upright for 45 minutes without falling over or throwing up

For God’s sake, do something about those eyes

BANGS!

If Rose was anything, she was a dedicated problem-solver at heart and no situation was so sticky that a can-do attitude and a bucket of moxie couldn’t screw loose and put right. Billy, well… Billy did what he was told.

Points 1 and 2 required more practice and physical training. After all, she had managed to teach Billy to walk long after the doctors gave up on him. There was nothing a dedicated mom couldn’t force with grit and determination.. She augmented her homebrewed neck-brace-attached-walking-frame design with more jerry-rigged upgrades, equal parts Rube Goldberg and Louise Bourgeois – metal spiders made of pipes and levers that Billy was strapped on to, in to, or underneath. No device was too extreme to offset the challenges of a fluid-filled head and shove in the face of all those bossmen who told her “no” along the way.

In addition to spite, Rose had a mathematical mind. If circumstances were different she could have been a great engineer or even scientist herself but she preferred the stage. Better being in the public eye than growing moss in a dismal ol’ lab hidden away. So her knack for numbers never found any use beyond a-5-6-7-8.

She tightened the helmet straps under Billy’s chin and peered over the blinders.

“Can you see the bubble in the middle, water-baby?”

Billy solemnly nodded, the dangling spirit level in front of his eyes bobbling wildly.

“Brace, water-baby. I’m releasing the counterbalance,” Rose said, pushing a weighted three foot boom arm into motion.

Billy wobbled but caught himself, physically pushing against the centrifugal forces while screwing up his puffy-cheeked face into angry resolve.

“Keep your peepers on that bubble, little mister!” Rose ordered, walking to the other side of their modest, but tasteful apartment, “Now, walk to mama.”

Billy’s crossed eyes focused on the level, trying to hold his head straight. The balance arm pivoted as he moved, the weight opposite pulling him sideways. He stepped heavily forward, the metal contraption jingled and creaked with every step.. He initially veered to the left, but the spring-loaded feelers smacked into a door jamb, sending a jolt through the whole mechanism. He corrected his trajectory and walked parallel to the sideboard towards his mother.

“Just a little farther, water-baby.” Mama Rose urged, waving jazz hands.

He pressed on, the balance arm slowly arcing away from his direction. He was within spitting distance of the china hutch when a rear caster wheel caught on the edge of the rug and pulled him backwards sharply. The physical jolt knocked the lead weight free of the balance arm. The weight plummeted onto one of the legs, snapping it at a joint, tipping the whole walking frame up on its side. The untethered boom arm rotated off its axis. Billy tumbled up and out of the capsizing device, landing head-side down like a weeble-wobble.

“Almost,” Rose said, a bit deflated, picking a woozy Billy up and setting him feet-side-down, “Let’s try again.”

Billy searched through the wreckage, picking out the broken leg and began screwing it back in place.

“Again and again,” Rose repeated to herself, “Until it’s perfect.”

The household budget was tight for a single mom. Rose was frugal and ambitious, taking temporary secretarial, accounting and paralegal work as it came. Her pregnancy knocked her out of the audition pool for off-, off-off- off-off-off, and Broadway chorus roles. (She admitted she wouldn’t want to see a show with a pregnant chorus girl but that sort of downtown avant garde theater was never her bag.)

Herother job was more absolute and decommissioned her immediately as per their “no married women/no unwed mothers/no women over 30” policy that even someone as traditionally-minded as her could see was a double standard. But you can’t mount a Women’s Lib protest outside a covert organization that technically didn’t exist even with a whole crew of Invisible Womyn.

She promised herself she’d jump back into acting/singing/dancing as soon as Billy was old enough, but it was such a hard birth and he was born so sick… Well, it didn’t seem practical to think about. Her career was on the backburner; from now on all her effort was focused on building his. But they still had bills that needed to be paid.

The local Y found space in the class schedule for her to offer dance classes in jazz, tap, and modern. All ages welcome from preschool to high school. Billy, of course, was to attend every one of her classes from “Baby n’ Me Wiggle Time” up to “Independant Modern II” for high school seniors. His mother didn’t think he’d be able to do much but expected him to try. Some of it might filter down towards getting Billy to move around with slightly more grace. Plus, she didn’t need to pay for a babysitter.

In the “Li’l Stars'' class, with girls near his own age (who still towered over him) he was self-conscious enough being the only boy in the class.

“Eww, cooties! Boy germs,” giggled a gaggle of girls in pink tutus.

“We have the schame biological pathogensch regardless of schex or gender," Billy protested, factually.

The alpha kindergartener in the tutu gang spat back, “So why is your head so big?”

An explosion of more giggles drowned out his explanation of intracranial fluid exchange not to mention the ineffectiveness of a non-sequitur in proper debate technique, so he shifted his concentration onto his plié instead of exploding in rage or tears (it could have gone either way)

The older girls’ dance classes were so much more physically outside his abilities but he was mostly ignored, treated as a class mascot rather than a fellow student. Dance teens were less direct in their attacks but they wounded deeper. Before class, Billy was tying on his teenie-tiny Capezios in the dance studio when he overheard two older girls who hadn’t noticed him.

“Madame Rose is sooooooo elegant. It’s a shame her son is retarded,” said one teenager, pulling her hair up into a regulation bun as she walked through the studio door.

“He’s not retarded, he’s like a math whiz or something? So, he’s, like, half-retarded,” countered her friend, straightening her tights.

“Still a retard,” the alpha teen ruled, “I mean, look at that head.”

The two locked eyes with Billy, doing a calf stretch in the corner of the room, trying not to look as hurt as he felt.

The two shrugged and walked to the barre to start warming up.

The mandatory dance class attendance directive may have been inspired by Peebo’s demands, but it outlived them tenfold. Long after he mastered standing up and walking without falling over, Billy attended her dance classes. Looking back, when he was feeling generous, he thought this was his mother’s way of keeping him humble. School work was too easy and good grades came with no effort so she was deliberately putting him in situations he was bound to fail despite great effort. Inoculate him against arrogance with shots of guaranteed unfair failure.

When in a less charitable mood, he just assumed his mother just didn’t want to pay for daycare.

Peebo’s third point – to lessen the minor inconveniences of severe hydrocephalus (sundown eyes, spontaneous vomiting, general loginess), Rose doubled the trips to the hospital for cerebrospinal fluid evacuation. The machine, some kind of special hospital grade Hoover, was wheeled out. Catheter tubing from the machine threaded through the hole in the side of his skull. Billy sat back on a bed in an open ward as the machine sucked enough goop out of his skull to keep his pressure normal until they had to come back to do it again. Billy said the machine was ‘very loud’ inside his head, but wasn’t too painful, really. And for being a brave little patient, he got a comic book from the hospital newsstand over Rose’s strict disapproval that “funny books rot your brain” and on rare occasions, an oddly melancholy complaint, “It’s all propaganda. Heroes aren’t like that in real life.”

“The CSF suction procedure is only meant for use in an emergency, “ the ward doctor protested through clenched teeth, “For newborns too sickly for an implanted shunt! It’s a stopgap.”

“Well, Billy doesn’t have a shunt so he needs the machine, “ Rose rationalized, waving to a familiar nurse.

Rose knew all the nurses and technicians, being a “regular” now.” She always had a smile and some small talk for everyone.

During the procedure, Billy was far chattier than the shrieking preemies in the NICU that the nurses usually stuck tubing into. Billy wanted to know how everything worked, asked about the detailed steps of every procedure and dropped constant fun facts from whatever he was memorizing at the moment (mostly drowned out by the roar of the fluid vacuum). He had finished reading the encyclopedia and was halfway through memorizing a World Atlas. He had bargained with an underachieving med student interning on the ward to do his homework in trade for his anatomy textbook.

The doctor rubbed his brow, “You could bring your kid in for this procedure every damn day and it wouldn’t be as effective as an implanted shunt.”

“Language, sir,” Rose wagged her finger scoldingly, “I smell gin on your breath. Are you drunk right now?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m exhausted,” the doctor, well into his second 12 hour shift, stated, “Your son should have been scheduled for surgery when he was under a year old .The more you put it off the more severe the complications become.”

“Can you guarantee this surgery will NOT affect my son’s intelligence?”

“A head full of excess fluid is not the cause of your son’s intelligence.”

“You don’t know that. No one knows that. Billy is a unique case! They wrote a paper about him!”

“Untreated hydrocephalus doesn’t make geniuses, it makes simpletons who struggle tying their own shoes and piss themselves while they do it,” the doctor added bitterly, “Hydrocephalus makes a lot of corpses, too.”

“Well, Billy is a genius. Billy has hydrocephalus. They might be connected. I won’t do anything that might jeopardize his brain.”

“This fluid-evacuation procedure is unsustainable in the long term! He won’t die from the hydrocephalus but you’re not doing anything to stop the skull deformation and potential secondary symptoms– shortened life span, pituitary failure, stunted growth… ”

“In twenty years he could be curing cancer or negotiating peace in the Middle East, but you want me to give up that future because his head looks funny?” Rose belted, “That, sir, is just BUNKUM!”

The exacerbated doctor put his head in his hands, “You didn’t give birth in a mud-floored hut in the Mekong Delta! He’s not the last Habsburg ruler of the Spanish Empire! You’re an American, in an American hospital. There is no reason to have a child with hydrocephalus and DO NOTHING. He’s suffering unnecessarily.”

“Does he look like he’s suffering?” Rose pointed.

Billy lay back on a ward bed, reading his comic book with his feet in the air and a gurgling tube in the side of his head. He noticed he was being stared at and sat up straight, thinking he was in trouble.

The doctor had tried to be reasonable, he had to use the only weapon left in his arsenal – “Refusing required treatment technically qualifies as abuse. I’m required by law to call CPS and you’d lose custody.”

Rose’s plastic smile fell. She leaned in close– too close– as she whispered, “You’re going to take my son from me, Dr. Big-Pants? Just try it. Mama Bear’s got friends in high places. Dangerous friends who–” She spotted someone across the room, “Oh golly! Marjory! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Rose wandered off mid-threat. The ward doctor was too tired to even care. He shrugged it off, threw up his hands and things continued as they always had.

“Good morning, Fairfax County!” beamed the avuncular host from the dinky set of the local network affiliate. Just a mid-morning half hour of local affairs sandwiched between the Today Show and the back-to-back game show block for the elderly and unemployed.

After covering minutes of a school board meeting and something about snowmobile purchases and a recipe segment about microwaving ham, the host brought out the guests.

“Now, we all know the National Spelling Bee happening over there across the Potomac is a pretty big deal, but it’s a long road to get there. Many, many other Spelling Bees on the way to the big one. And this little fellow has big dreams of making it. Please welcome Billy Whalen and his mother Rose.”

Propped on a sofa, Rose beamed and greeted the host with a handshake. Billy remained catatonic until his mother nudged him and whispered, “Smile for the camera, water-baby.” Billy pulled his lips back in a painful rictus grimace. The show cut away to the host as quickly as possible.

“Thanks for having us on, Carl,” Rose said warmly.

“Is this right, Billy is the youngest ever participant in a National Bee semi-final? How did that happen,”

“Well, Billy doesn’t go to school yet,” Rose began to explain.

“Lucky guy,” the host joked.

“So we petitioned to take a written test of over 200 words in order to qualify to enter at this level in lieu of doing a live spelling bee at a lower level.”

The host turned to the boy, “So, Billy, how old are you?”

Billy stared like a trapped animal. He stared at the red light on top of the TV camera pointed at him. His mouth, maybe for the first time ever, was completely dry. The pause seemed to last an eternity.

“He’s four!” his mother filled the vacuum, “Just turned four.”

“Looks like our boy genius here is a little nervous making his regional TV debut.” Billy’s ears flushed pink. The studio audience “aww”ed and laughed.

The host turned back to Rose, “But it’s not just spelling he’s a master at, right?”

“Oh yes. Billy has an exceptional IQ and memory for all kinds of trivia.”

“The highescht uninterrupted waterfall in the world is Angel Fallsch of Venezchuela,” Billy offered quietly, “979 meters or 3,212 feet.”

A classroom chalkboard that an outline of the United States had been drawn onto was wheeled in upstage. A stagehand placed a step ladder in front of it. Billy was relieved to have a task he could handle. He jumped off the interview couch and scampered up the ladder in front of the chalkboard.

The host declared to the studio audience, “Before your eyes, ladies and gentlemen, Little Billy Whalen here is going to name every state and its capital city in… five minutes.” Rose nodded and smiled.

Ignoring the outline, he made a neat list in the middle of the board in 5 columns of every state in alphabetical order followed by its capital. The writing is childish but legible but most importantly - 100% correct.

As Billy finished chalking “WYOMING - CHEYENNE,” the host called out, “Time! 4 minutes and 39 seconds. Now, if that isn’t a record, it should be!”

The audience clapped. Rose smiled proudly. Billy climbed down the ladder, a little physically shaky but pleased.

“The Spelling Bee Semi-Finals are tonight at Spiro Agnew High in Glen Burnie. I can tell you any of us without our own kids in competition are definitely rooting for you, Billy!”

On stage were 50 contestants to get through, alphabetically. That meant he was almost last. Billy just sat on his folding chair in the back of the crowd, kicking his feet. He looked out into the audience. He spotted his mother quickly; they had the same color hair. In her “Toni Tennille” phase they even had the same haircut. Luckily for both of them, she had moved on with the times and was sporting “carefree natural waves” that took a head full of rollers and a full can of hairspray to set.

After picking her out in the crowd, Billy noticed two men wearing sunglasses and black suits come up the aisle. They tapped her on the shoulder. One spoke to her and she rose from her seat and went with, leaving the audience. She came back without them about three contestants later and took her seat again. Billy thought that was a strange thing to do, especially at a spelling bee.

“Number 27.”

Billy paced to the edge of the stage and climbed up two apple boxes set up for him. No stumbles, kept his balance — his mother watching in the audience was already relieved.

A small murmur from the crowd. Billy smiled nervously and went pink in the ears. A scattered “awww.”

The microphone was still too high. He stood on tiptoes to wrench the angle stand down to his level, pulling a little too hard. The mic fell forward and he pressed his mouth directly onto it – not ideal. He had never used a microphone before and no one thought to tell him not to do it.

“Your word is…Syzygy “

“Schyzchygy,” Billy repeated into the mic, muffled and distorted as his lips pressed into the foam cover.

“Syzygy.”

“Schyzchygy,” Billy repeated again, clearly nervous.

A shout from the audience, “Annunciate, water baby!” He shot a glare at his mother standing in the crowd but stayed pressed against the mic.

“SCHHZDJCHYGCHYYY,” Billy parroted back, even more distorted, “May I have the language of origin?”

“ Syzygy. Ancient Greek through Late Latin. SYZYGY.”

“May I have it used in a schentence, pleasche?” Billy was just stalling now. Everyone could tell. He was sweating as well as spitting all over the microphone– the foam windscreen was soaked.

“Maximum gravitational force occurs when a syzygy and perigee occur on the same day as perihelion.”

“May I have a definitssctchchion?” The mic was starting to pop and crackle. The foam cover was so saturated with saliva it was dripping.

“Astronomy. Syzygy describes a straight-line configuration of three celestial bodies in a gravitational system. Syzygy.”

Nowhere to hide now. Billy took a breath (immediately broadcast loudly to the auditorium.)

“Sschyzchygy,” Billy gasped, “Esschh–”

The lights in the auditorium flickered and a sudden jolt and a flash as 10,000 volts jumped from microphone to Billy via mouth. He was blown backwards 10 feet and lay unconscious on the stage.

–

Billy spent the rest of the Bee in the makeshift nurse’s office. No serious damage done. Surface burns and a slight concussion (his skull was surprisingly hardy). His bangs were singed. He was disqualified for “failure to spell word in allotted time,” as he was unconscious.

“Look who came to see you,” Billy’s mother announced enthusiastically, presenting Prof. Peebo, who bowed deeply to shake Billy’s hand.

“An outrage. Faulty equipment, no safety measures! I’ll call the board tomorrow to let them know this will not stand.”

Billy ignored him, and worriedly asked his mother, “Can we still go to Magic Pan even though I didn’t win?”

“A defeat isn’t truly a defeat if one learns something from it,” Peebo raised his glass, ”And tonight we learned cerebrospinal fluid is an excellent conductor of electricity!”

“Cheers,” Rose said, clinking her glass against his, smiling broadly.

Billy kept his tumbler of Pepsi (soda was usually off-limits but this was a ‘special occasion') on the table and glowered, but neither adult noticed. He flicked a charred patch of bangs out of his eyes.

At the time, young Billy thought the adults were acting clumsy and silly. Older Billy looking back could pick up that the two had been drinking wine in the nurse’s office as soon as he had been escorted off the stage and were giddy and tipsy.

Rose saw Billy’s frown and sloppily offered consolation, “Not every performer succeeds on the live stage, water-baby. “

Peebo added, “Plenty of other venues for a boy genius. It’s all marketing. Like our great national poet Stevie Sondheim says, ‘You gotta have a gimmick.’

“Oh Professor, I just ADORE Sondheim, “ Rose lit up. She much preferred his earlier, cheerier work better, of course. More your West Side Story and Gypsy than your Pacific Overtures.

“If you’re gonna pump it, pump it with a trumpet,” muttered Billy.

“My impression is that due to his medical situation, the lad is always going to be…” Peebo searched for the kindest way to put it, “Small for his age so we’re going to use that. RECORD BREAKER! Ladies and Gentlemen, the youngest boy EVER to… etcetera etcetera.”

Rose looked intrigued, “Break records?”

“The youngest boy to get a perfect score on the SATs. LSATs. MCATs. The youngest student admitted to Harvard. To the London School of Economics. To the masters program of the Art Institute of Chicago. The youngest fully-accredited urologist. The youngest scientist ever hired at NASA. The youngest elected US Senator… You get my drift.”

“Oh, how fun,” Rose clapped her hands, “You could do any of those if you put your mind to it, Billy!”

Billy remained neutral. He didn’t not like the idea, but he remained wary. “John Eaton of Tennesschee was 28 years, 4 months, 29 days old when he entered the Schenate in 1818 despite Article I, Schection 3, Clause 3 of the Conschtitution –”

Peebo cut him off, “Maybe not that one specifically, just the idea of it,” he turned back to Rose, “It’s open-ended, just as long as he's the youngest in the competition. That will get the media interested. Human interest stories. Better if he wins, but the bump comes from the effort.”

“Now, to frame this right, we need to keep our boy looking as much like a spring chicken as we can. So, darling, if you're planning on getting those ears pinned, cancel the appointment asap!” Peebo flicked Billy’s stuck-on-sideways cab-driving-down-the-street-with-both-doors-open projecting ears for demonstration. Billy grabbed his ear to stop it wobbling and looked daggers at the professor.

“Same goes for orthodontia, speech therapy, fashionable hair styles and long pants. He needs to be every mother’s precious baby darling for as long as that big head weighs him down to travel size.”

Rose nodded, taking Peebo’s order as gospel.

“You only have a short time window with a boy genius before they age out of the sport but we may be able to milk it with this one,” Peebo smiled, showing way too many teeth. He still made Rose think of a rubber shark, but a handsome shark.

Billy was starting to boil over. He didn’t like this “Professor” guy to begin with but being ear-flicked and discussed like an object was too much.

“May I be excusched,” he lisped, rising from the booth to walk it off. Peebo and Rose were staring deeply into each other's eyes, sharing private jokes over Spinach Soufflé and Potage St. Germaine and didn’t even notice his exit.

Billy wandered aimlessly around the restaurant, unnoticed by other diners and stepped over by waiters hoisting trays of Chicken Elegante and Crêpe A La Mode. He found the open kitchen where the Magic Pan’s namesake device cranked out crêpe after crêpe. One perfectly cooked crêpe made every minute.

A cook dressed in a modern American foodservice interpretation of a peasant dirndl placed a frying pan, face-down, onto a eight-slotted wheel revolving over one enormous ring of gas flames. Each naked pan made a few lazy revolutions on the carousel, slowly heating to the necessary temperature. A perfectly-heated pan was momentarily removed to be dipped bottom-side down in batter before being returned to the pan carousel. Another revolution over the gas burner cooked the crepe evenly every time. Magically.

Billy watched the mechanical process in a calm, near-hypnotic state. The unconventional use of standard equipment. The efficiency. The regularity of the result. The crepes! No, accuracy, Billy– the palacsinta!

“You don’t like me much, do you Billy?” Peebo Putnam said from behind him, walking closer without making a sound.

Billy didn’t look away from the crêpe pan carousel. He didn’t even want to acknowledge anyone standing behind him.

“That’s fine. Most of my boy geniuses don’t, at first. But they learn to respect me and my methods when they see the results.”

Billy just looked at the pans going around, trying to block him out.

“You, eh, I don’t rank much. You’re a smart kid, sure, but you’re damned funny-looking and this is an image-based world we live in. Your mother, though. Wow, what a firecracker!”

Billy cringed. He didn’t even know what the man meant but it seemed like something you shouldn’t say to her 4-year-old son even if he was a genius.

“I’m sticking to your both like glue for as long as this ride lasts, so you better do better than you did tonight in that spelling bee. Or maybe the next electrical accident you won’t be able to walk off so quickly. You read me, kid?”

“I read at a 9th grade level,” Billy snapped angrily.

“Good.”

... to be continued

AO3 | Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7

Notes--

also posted on Archive of Our Own for ease of reading

My feeling on this chapter-- feels like a lot of exposition and not enough jokes. I'd like to punch up every dialogue exchange to be funnier but this project is to write without a plan and post whatever I have as soon as I finish. This is as far ahead as I had ideas for (aside from a big finale) so I have no idea where this is going. (I might switch it up and write something else next month.)

I intend Billy to always speak with a lisp (as he does) but it matters more in this chapter and Baby Billy doesn't say much, so I spell it out. Writing out the lisp (or Pete's southie dialect) makes it a nightmare to spell check and hard to read.

more Li'l Billy:

Billy Aces the SATs

His Soft Marketable Melon-Headed Debut

Billy Goes To Prom / Alt Prom

Very Rude

Back-to-School

Halloween Pumpkin

Syzygy - In addition to the astronomical meanings, Carl Jung uses it to mean "a union of opposites." (Not Eros/Thanatos— that was a Freud thing) I just picked it because it would be hard for Billy to say.

The Magic Pan was a real chain of restaurants that peaked in the early 1980s with 110 locations (usually in malls) across North America. The last Magic Pan restaurant (in my hometown) closed in 1995.

The show is as comedically casual about hydrocephalus as it is about albinism. Pete bursts into flames in contact with sunlight; Billy's head glugs when he shakes it.

I'm no doctor but I researched due-diligence to make *plausible* medical bullshit. The core question: Why wouldn't Billy have had his hydrocephalus treated when he was a baby? Secondarily, where was his mother when he went on the lam in #327? Why hadn't he seen/spoken to her in years, according to Rose in #506?

Babies born congenital hydrocephalus usually resolve it brain surgery (with an implanted shunt) by the age of 2. Shunts may go wrong and have to be replaced later in life, but in the US, if treated early, patients have mostly normal lives with no physical signs of having had it.

Billy claims (in #106) that water-on-the-brain is the cause of his intelligence. Doc says in #110: "Like a speech impediment and growth hormone deficiency qualifies you as a boy genius." which may be just a short joke/general abuse but hypopituitarism/pituitary dwarfism (different than the acondroplasia of the Moppets) would be a side effect of untreated hydrocephalus. Agewise, he falls into the gap where corpse-harvested HGH was banned for causing Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease and before synthesized HGH was invented so even if he could afford hormone replacement therapy, it wouldn't be legally available.

Rose canonically is old lady stereotype + smothering mother archetype, but also a former costumed adventurer/crime-fighter. When/why did she give up if she can still physically kick ass while elderly? Was it because of Billy? Who's Billy's father? (least interested in this one so I'll leave it alone)

In the 20th Century, doctors were notorious for not listening to female patients and doing whatever they wanted to them/their babies unquestioned (still an issue now but there was no such thing as a patient's bill of rights until 2010. ) On the other extreme is the modern cult of "a mother knows" + blanket suspicion of experts which easily leads into anti-vax theories, giving kids bleach enemas to "cure" autism, and Munchausen's by Proxy. Rose is a smothering/overprotective "mama bear" (and probably used to being mistreated by a patriarchal system), so likely to fall into that mindset.

I'd also imagine her being a stage mother (her name is "Mama Rose" after all) with toxic positivity & achievement expectations which she considers "a can-do attitude." Since "heroes" in universe tend to be bastards and hypocrites, to survive she needs a machiavellian streak despite being a "goody-goody." Actresses are already notoriously narcissistic and cut-throat even without also being justice-enforcing killing machine.

Anything I left out?

AO3 | Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7

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jewish-privilege · 4 years ago

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In late January, Johnny Roman Garza traveled to a Jewish journalist’s home in Arizona, crept up to a bedroom window and then glued a poster to the glass.

“Your Actions Have Consequences,” it said. “You have been visited by your local Nazis.”

On Tuesday, Garza, 21, of Queen Creek, Ariz., pleaded guilty in the U.S. District Court in Seattle to multiple charges related to threatening numerous journalists as part of a plot by a group of neo-Nazis, the Associated Press first reported. He faces up to five years in prison at his December sentencing.

Garza and three co-defendants were members of the Atomwaffen Division, a neo-Nazi group started in 2015 and born from a now-defunct white-supremacist online forum. The group called police to various journalists’ homes and offices and dropped off threatening fliers, prosecutors said, and also made threats to employees of the Anti-Defamation League.

(...)

In a message to the group chat, Shea said they would target “journalists houses and media buildings to send a clear message that we too have leverage over them. … The goal of course, is to erode the media/state air of legitimacy by showing people that they have names and addresses, and hopefully embolden others to act as well.”

Garza was given the task of coordinating efforts to deliver the threatening fliers to journalists’ homes and workplaces, the plea agreement said. Garza told the group he tracked down “a leader of an ‘association of Black journalists’” in Arizona.

In the following months, the group accrued the addresses of Jewish journalists and activists and came up with a plan to mail them threatening fliers and deliver them in-person to their homes.

(...)

On Jan. 25, Garza and another individual, who is not named in court documents, drove to an apartment complex in Phoenix, where a member of the Arizona Association of Black Journalists lived. Garza attempted to affix a poster to the journalist’s home but, according to the plea agreement, could not find a suitable spot for the poster, so he left.

After returning to the car, he and his companion drove to the home of Mala Blomquist, editor at Arizona Jewish Life magazine. Blomquist told the Arizona Republic Garza secured the poster to a bedroom window. The poster had an illustration of a skeleton holding a molotov cocktail, she said, and included Blomquist’s personal information at the bottom.

(...)

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papermoonloveslucy · 4 years ago

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SPEECH FOR CIVIC ORGANIZATION

February 4, 1949

“Speech for Civic Organization” (aka “Liz Debates Alaska in Town Forum”) is episode #29 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on February 4, 1949 on the CBS radio network.

Synopsis ~ Liz, anxious to win the approval of an important dinner guest, simply agrees with everything he says. The guest is so impressed with her intelligence that he invites her to be a speaker at his next civic forum.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benadaret was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

REGULAR CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as ��The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born as Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) and Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) had not yet joined the cast as regular characters.

GUEST CAST

Frank Nelson (Mr. Barton) was born on May 6, 1911 (three months before Lucille Ball) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He started working as a radio announcer at the age of 15. He later appeared on such popular radio shows as “The Great Gildersleeve,” “Burns and Allen,” and “Fibber McGee & Molly”. This is one of his 11 performances on “My Favorite Husband.” On “I Love Lucy” he holds the distinction of being the only actor to play two recurring roles: Freddie Fillmore and Ralph Ramsey, as well as six one-off characters, including the frazzled train conductor in “The Great Train Robbery” (ILL S5;E5), a character he repeated on “The Lucy Show.” Aside from Lucille Ball, Nelson is perhaps most associated with Jack Benny and was a fifteen-year regular on his radio and television programs.

Steve Allen (Scott Campbell, Expert on Alaska) was a talk show and variety host as well as a published composer. Although he was seen with Lucille Ball on awards and quiz shows, their first time acting together on screen didn’t come until 1978′s “Lucy Calls The President”. In 1980, Ball appeared on the premiere of “The Steve Allen Comedy Hour”. He died in 2000 at age 78.

TRIVIA: Madelyn Pugh and Bob Carroll Jr. were writers for the Steve Allen radio show and left that job to write for “My Favorite Husband.” They paid Allen to write his own show one week so they could focus on creating a script submission for “My Favorite Husband.”

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers tonight, they’ve settled down for a quiet evening at home. Liz has discovered an intelligence quiz in a magazine, but she’s having George’s attention, because he is lost in a gripping, blood-curdling murder mystery.”

George is reading “The Mummy’s Tummy” but Liz spoils the ending to get his attention. George can’t seem to answer any of the IQ questions correctly.

Q: “What is the name for the chemical formula H2S04?”

A: Sulfuric Acid

Q: “What does it say on the lid of a United States mailbox?”

A: Pull Down

Q: “For what was Ma Ferguson noted?”

A: The first woman Governor of Texas

George decides to quiz Liz, asking her a few questions.

Q: “What is the poop deck of the ship?”

Liz’s Answer: “The deck where the sailor’s rest when they’re pooped.”

Real Answer: “A raised portion of the rear deck.”

Q: “Does sound travel faster or slower in water than it does in air?”

Liz’s Answer: “Next question.”

Q: “Chicle is the main ingredient in chewing gum. Where is the largest deposit found?”

Liz’s Answer: “Under theatre seats.”

Liz realizes that they aren’t very smart and should probably do something about it. Dr. Guilfoyle, author of the quiz, suggests that a score under 50 needs to be addressed.

Liz is going to send for his book “How To Improve Yourself.”

LIZ: “Look at the people who recommend this book: Truman and Goldwyn.” GEORGE: “Harry Truman and Sam Goldwyn?” LIZ: “No, Sam Truman and Harry Goldwyn!”

Harry Truman (1884-1972) was the 33rd president of the United States from 1945 to 1953, succeeding Franklin D. Roosevelt after his death. He implemented the Marshall Plan to rebuild the economy of Western Europe, and established the Truman Doctrine and NATO. Sam Goldwyn (1879 -1974) was a film producer best known as the founder of several motion picture studios in Hollywood.

A few days later, the book has arrived and Katie the Maid notices Liz is engrossed in it. Liz states that the Doctor has three rules to impress people:

Learn Ten New Words a Day

Be a Good Listener

Have One Subject Down Cold So You Can Steer The Conversation Around To It

Liz’s has already got her ten new words and has put them in a sentence.

LIZ: “By assiduous application, I have promulgated a plethora of altruistic ubiquity and lugubrious perspicacity.”

The telephone rings, it is George telling Liz he is bringing home an important person named Mr. Barton, to dinner.

LIZ: “How important is he, George? Sirloin, T-bone, meatloaf, or hash?” GEORGE: “Strictly sirloin.”

George explains that Mr. Barton is the one who picks the speakers for the open forums in town. George wants to get picked to be one of the first speakers so he can impress his boss, Mr. Atterbury, and possibly land a raise. George warns Liz to be herself and not try to impress him.

Liz decides to enact rule #3 and cracks open an encyclopedia to pick the subject. Much to her surprise, the subject she randomly picks is bees! Walking up to the house that evening, Mr. Barton (Frank Nelson) confides in George that he is looking forward to meeting a simple housewife, since in his line of work the women are always trying too hard to impress him with their intellect. George introduces Liz to Mr. Barton, who immediately notices that her vocabulary is amped up. Unfortunately, Liz is using the wrong words most of the time, saying ‘plethora’ for ‘pleasure’ and ‘diversify yourself’ for ‘divert yourself.’

George assures a nervous Mr. Barton that Liz is ‘just an old fashioned girl’.

MR. BARTON: “Sounds like she’s had too many Old- Fashioneds!”

An Old Fashioned is a cocktail made by mixing sugar with bitters and water, adding whiskey or brandy, and garnishing with orange zest and a cocktail cherry. It is traditionally served in a special glass called an Old Fashioned glass. A variation on this wordplay was used on “I Love Lucy” in “Million Dollar Idea” (ILL S3;E13) in 1954 when Lucy (disguised as an average housewife selected at random) describes the taste of Aunt Martha’s Old Fashioned Salad Dressing to deliberately encourage buyers to cancel.

LUCY: “Looks like Aunt Martha had too many Old-Fashioneds!”

In the kitchen, George tells Liz to stop using fancy words, so Liz moves on to rule #3 - her special subject: bees! She no sooner starts buzzing about bees when she is chided by George.

GEORGE (sternly aside): “Liz! Haven’t you forgotten? Mr. Barton’s forum!” LIZ: “Well, I’m for ‘em, too!”

Coincidentally, Lucille Ball was one of several actors known as ‘Queen of the ‘B’s’ - which referred to ‘B’ pictures - films that were done quickly, on a budget, with lesser-known actors. In 1963′s “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (TLS S1;E19) Lucy suggests they sing about bees!

Mr. Barton tells George he is going to sponsor a Shakespearean Company, if they can convince the City Council to fund them.

LIZ: “To bee or not to bee!”

"To be, or not to be" is the opening of a soliloquy by Prince Hamlet in William Shakespeare's play Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1. In the speech, Hamlet contemplates death and suicide. It is one of the most quoted phrases in all of literature. To Be or Not to Be is a also the title of a 1942 film starring Lucille Ball’s good friend Carole Lombard and Jack Benny, who later became her next door neighbor. The plot concerns a troupe of actors in Nazi-occupied Poland. The film was released one month after Lombard was killed in an airplane crash.

George drags Liz into the hall again, warning her to stop talking about bees! After telling him to “mind his own beeswax”, Liz reluctantly agrees just to listen attentively and agree with everything Mr. Barton says. This works so well, that Mr. Barton barely acknowledges George, but only talks to Liz! He is so impressed by Liz, he offers to have her on the panel of their very first forum on Saturday night! She instantly agrees!

Two days later she learns that the forum’s topic is “the effect of jet propulsion and supersonic flight on the future of aviation.” But Liz is un-phased. She has been preparing by buying a new dress, which she tells George has ‘a dive bomb neckline.’

George and Liz role play to prepare for the forum. Against George’s advice, Liz intends to talk about the Wright Brothers!

Orville and Wilbur Wright were inventors and pioneers of aviation. In 1903 the Wright brothers achieved the first powered, sustained and controlled airplane flight; they surpassed their own milestone two years later when they built and flew the first fully practical airplane.

At the meeting that night, Mr. Barton announces to the assembled crowd that their aviation expert, Colonel Davis, could not make it.

MR. BARTON: “He started her from Los Angeles, but he got slightly mixed up in a snowstorm and has just cabled us from Bombay, India.”

Bombay, India is the capital city of the Indian state of Maharashtra. It was formerly renamed Mumbai in 1995 to better reflect the city’s roots and cut ties with its British origins. Coincidentally, a few months after this broadcast, the 1942 film Bombay Clipper was re-released. Although the Lucy gang never traveled to Bombay, it was mentioned in 1955′s “The Hedda Hopper Story” (ILL S4;E21) when everyone was looking for Mrs. McGillicuddy.

RICKY (Into phone): “Do you have any flights numbered 930? You do? Where's it coming in from? Bombay?” LUCY: “Bombay?” RICKY: “Well knowing your mother... No, even she wouldn't fly from New York to Los Angeles by way of India.”

Instead, Mr. Barton announces that the guest speaker is a famous authority on Alaska, Mr. Scott Campbell (Steve Allen). Unfortunately, Liz knows nothing about Alaska - so she starts to talk about the Wright Brothers instead!

In 1949 Alaska was not yet one of the United States, but was a US territory. The statehood movement gained its first real momentum in 1946 and Alaska was officially proclaimed a state on January 3, 1959. To mark this event, Desilu created a special episode of “The Westinghouse Desilu Playhouse” in which the Ricardos and Mertzes travel to Nome to cash in on a land deal, although no actual filming was done in the 49th state.

In 1952’s “Lucy Gets Ricky on the Radio” (ILL S1;E32) Lucy presciently (but incorrectly) answers the question “What was the last state to be admitted to the union?” by saying Alaska. At the time, the correct answer to the question was Arizona, admitted on Valentine’s Day 1912.

MR. BARTON: “No! When are you going to get to Alaska?” LIZ: “Let me get the plane invented and I’ll fly up there!”

With nothing else to talk about, Liz starts to talk about bees, but Mr. Barton quickly cuts her off and turns the podium over to Mr. Campbell, who launches into a serious speech about the welfare of the children of Alaska. He suddenly turns to Liz and asks “Who is responsible for these children, Mrs. Cooper?”

LIZ: “You really want me to answer that? Wilbur and Orville Wright!”

In the bedtime tag, it is 4 o’clock in the morning and Liz is eating crackers in bed. Wrestling them away from her, George gets cracker crumbs all over the bed. A few seconds later, Liz is eating an apple! George takes it from her. He hears her eating a third time and goes to grab whatever it is away from her.

GEORGE: “Whoah! What was that!” LIZ: “A glass of cold milk. Goodnight, George.”

End of Episode

Bob LeMond reminds listeners that Lucille Ball will soon be seen in the Paramount Picture Sorrowful Jones.

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sciencespies · 4 years ago

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Warm Up Your Winter With the National Portrait Gallery's Online Events

https://sciencespies.com/history/warm-up-your-winter-with-the-national-portrait-gallerys-online-events/

Warm Up Your Winter With the National Portrait Gallery's Online Events

Smithsonian Voices National Portrait Gallery

Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery Announces Virtual Programs for January and February

January 6th, 2021, 10:07AM / BY National Portrait Gallery

Credit: “Left Side Right Side” (still) by Joan Jonas, 1972. Single-channel video (black-and-white, sound), 8:50 min. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. © 2020 Joan Jonas / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. Courtesy the artist and Gladstone Gallery, New York and Brussels (left). Alice Walker by Bernard Gotfryd, gelatin silver print, 1976. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. © The Bernard Gotfryd Revocable Living Trust (center). Louis Armstrong (detail) by Philippe Halsman, gelatin silver print, 1966 (printed 1998). National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift from the Trustees of the Corcoran Gallery of Art (Gift of Betsy Karel). The Corcoran Gallery of Art, one of the country’s first private museums, was established in 1869 to promote art and American genius. In 2014, the works from the Corcoran Collection were distributed to institutions in Washington, D.C. © Philippe Halsman Archive (right).

All events and programs are held virtually, due to COVID-19. For more information on the Portrait Gallery’s remote programs, explore the “Visit at Home” page of the museum’s website at npg.si.edu. The National Portrait Gallery remains temporarily closed at this time.

Special Programs

January

Antonius-Tín Bui and David Antonio Cruz in Conversation with Taína Caragol

Tuesday, Jan. 12, 5 p.m.

Online via Zoom

Join National Portrait Gallery curator Taína Caragol for a conversation with Antonius-Tín Bui and David Antonio Cruz about portraiture as a platform to represent and honor LGBTQ+ communities of color. Both artists use portraiture and performance to explore the connections between queerness, their personal diasporic stories and the communities that ground them. Bui and Cruz were finalists of the 2019 Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition, and their work is now on view in the traveling exhibition “The Outwin: American Portraiture Today” at the D’Amour Museum of Fine Arts of the Springfield Museums, Massachusetts. The competition and exhibition are made possible through generous support from the Virginia Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition Endowment. This conversation is a part of the Tommie L. Pegues and Donald A. Capoccia Conversation Series in LGBTQ+ Portraiture, which is hosted by PORTAL, the Portrait Gallery’s Scholarly Center. Free—Registration required.

In Dialogue: Smithsonian Objects and Social Justice

Thursday, Jan. 14, 5 p.m.

Online via Zoom

Heighten your civic awareness through conversations about art, history and material culture. Each month, educators from the National Portrait Gallery will partner with colleagues from across the Smithsonian to discuss how historical objects from their respective collections speak to today’s social justice issues. The topic for January is: How can we build a civically engaged society? Together with our co-hosts from the National Museum of American History, we will explore this key question in relationship to an 1898 voting machine and a portrait of civil rights activist Robert P. Moses. Free—Registration required.

Wind Down Wednesday: Hygge and Home

Wednesday, Jan. 27, 5 p.m.

Instagram Live @smithsoniannpg

During this long, cold winter, we invite you to wind down with a free virtual program that fosters creativity and mindfulness. In partnership with independent mixologists, crafters, artists and other experts, Wind Down Wednesday offers an optimistic approach to the middle of the week.

January is all about at-home comfort as we celebrate hygge and the serene portrait of author Marilynne Robinson from the exhibition “Her Story: A Century of Women Writers.” First, Megan Segarra of Meganda Kitchen will demonstrate her cocktail (or mocktail) recipe for infused spiked tea. Sip away while we discuss the portrait and read excerpts from Robinson’s beloved books. Then learn about candles and aromatherapy and center yourself through a meditative botanical watercolor workshop inspired by Robinson’s portrait.

February

Viewfinder: Women’s Film and Video from the Smithsonian, Joan Jonas: The Inner Worlds of Video

Thursday, Feb. 4, 5:30 p.m.

Online via Zoom

For more than half a century, Joan Jonas has created some of contemporary art’s most influential videos, performances and installations. Join us for a virtual screening of Jonas’s iconic videos “Left Side Right Side” (8:50 min., 1972) and “Vertical Roll” (19:38 min., 1972) from the respective collections of the National Portrait Gallery and the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Afterward, a post-screening discussion with Jonas and curators Charlotte Ickes and Saisha Grayson will reveal how the artist explores interiority through the medium of video. Viewfinder: Women’s Film and Video from the Smithsonian is a monthly virtual screening and conversation series sponsored by the Smithsonian American Women’s History Initiative, “Because of Her Story.” The first six programs in the series reflect upon interiority, a timely theme now that the global pandemic has confined many to their homes. Free—Registration required.

Art AfterWords: A Book Discussion

Tuesday, Feb. 9, 5:30–7 p.m.

Online via Zoom

The National Portrait Gallery and the DC Public Library invite you to a virtual conversation about representation, kinship and storytelling. Join us as we analyze Bernard Gotfryd’s portrait of Alice Walker and discuss the related book “Training School for Negro Girls” by Camille Acker. DCPL cardholders can access the book online. For questions, or to request accommodations such as an ASL interpreter or captioning, please email [email protected]. Free—Registration required.

Exhibiting the First Ladies: A Curator’s Perspective

Tuesday, Feb. 16, 5 p.m.

Online via Zoom

Join Gwendolyn DuBois Shaw, the Class of 1940 Bicentennial Term Associate Professor of the History of Art at the University of Pennsylvania, as she presents her research and insights from curating “Every Eye Is Upon Me: First Ladies of the United States.” The presentation will be followed by a Q & A moderated by Portrait Gallery Acting Senior Historian Kate Clarke Lemay.

This program is part of the Greenberg Steinhauser Forum in American Portraiture Conversation Series and is hosted by PORTAL, the Portrait Gallery’s Scholarly Center. Closed captioning will be provided. Free—Registration Required.

Wind Down Wednesday: Good Trouble

Wednesday, Feb. 24, 5 p.m.

Instagram Live

During this long, cold winter, we invite you to wind down with a free virtual program that fosters creativity and mindfulness. In partnership with independent mixologists, crafters, artists, and other experts, Wind Down Wednesday offers an optimistic approach to the middle of the week.

In February, we celebrate African Americans’ contributions to U.S. culture and history – but this important recognition should not be limited to 28 days of the year. As the late congressman, leader and activist John Lewis would remark, the work we need to do often involves making “good trouble.” In honor of his activist spirit, we will discuss the museum’s newly acquired portrait of Lewis and pay homage to his quest for civil rights. Learn about Lewis’s organized efforts to lead the nation toward racial equality and the good trouble he made. This conversation about civic awareness, empowerment and community will help you discover how to activate your voice and increase your civic involvement – all year long. Invited guests include Mixin’ Mimi, who will craft a mocktail and cocktail to get us into the spirit.

Ongoing Programs: January–February

Writing Hour

Tuesdays, 5 p.m.

Online via Zoom

Join us weekly for a virtual creative writing hour. We’ve set up an online space where writers can create, connect and draw inspiration from the Portrait Gallery’s collection. Free—Registration required.

Introducing…

Wednesdays, 11 a.m.

YouTube @smithsoniannpg

Introducing… a new kind of story time! Each week, a Portrait Gallery educator will shine a light on some of this country’s lesser-known historymakers and their portraits. Children will learn more about art, hear the stories behind the portraits and even learn some new vocabulary. Select story times will be in Spanish. For children ages 3 and up and their families.

Jan. 6: Fred Rogers

Jan. 13: Abraham Lincoln

Jan. 20: Ruth Asawa

Jan. 27: Leah Chase

Feb. 3: Celia Cruz

Feb. 10: Barack Obama

Feb. 17: Mary Mills

Feb. 24: Stokely Carmichael and Adam Clayton Powell Jr.

Young Portrait Explorers

Wednesdays, 11–11:30 a.m. & 3–3:30 p.m.

Online via Zoom

Explore portraits of astronauts and activists, scientists and star athletes – and discover the stories behind them. Join the Portrait Gallery each week for a close look at a featured portrait. Then we’ll dig deeper with some discussion questions and get moving with fun activities on the day’s topic. Download PDF activity guides from the “Visit at Home” page of the Portrait Gallery’s website. For children ages 3 and up and their families. Free—Registration required.

Jan. 13: Louis Armstrong

Feb. 10: Celia Cruz

Drawn to Figures LIVE

Thursdays, 11:00 a.m.

Online via Zoom

Discover your inner artist in this live virtual drawing workshop. Facilitated by artist Jill Galloway, the workshop will include guided instruction on the techniques and challenges of figure drawing. Participants will be offered the chance to share their work at the end of the session. Each program will highlight a Portrait Gallery exhibition or portrait from the collection. Open to all skill levels, ages 18 and up. Required materials will be listed on the Eventbrite program page. Free—Registration required.

Jan. 7: Scaling portraits down to miniature size

Jan. 21: Working in gouache and watercolor

Feb. 4: Drawing hands in action

Feb. 25: Creating portraits from photographs

Drawn to Figures

Thursdays, Jan. 14 & 28, 11 a.m.

YouTube @smithsoniannpg

Discover your inner artist in this online workshop on sketching the human body. Artist Jill Galloway will highlight the techniques and challenges of figure drawing while providing guided instruction and helpful tips. Open to all skill levels, ages 13 and up.

Open Studio Workshops

Fridays, 11 a.m.

YouTube @smithsoniannpg

Enjoy weekly art workshops from the comfort of your own home. Each Friday, we will post a video with a new activity or technique. Grab a family member or your roommates, or make a virtual date with a friend, and get creative with artist Jill Galloway. Artists of all ages and skill levels will enjoy creating art inspired by the Portrait Gallery’s collection.

Online Docent Tours

Group Tours

By reservation

Online via Zoom

Since we can’t get together in person, let’s meet up remotely! In January 2021, the National Portrait Gallery will begin offering docent-led group tours for adults online. The following tours will be available by registration: America’s Presidents, Highlights of the National Portrait Gallery, Docent’s Choice, and Special Exhibitions. Reservations are required, and a three-week advance notice is appreciated. E-mail [email protected] to receive a tour request form. All tours are subject to availability; last-minute cancellations may occur.

#History

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sweetayako15 · 5 years ago

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To Reason Religion

I’m so happy to present this story to you all! There is also great art for this story by @goodomensislife that can be found here!

Rating: M

Summary: Majoring in anything philosophical is usually seen as killing a career before it can even begin. Majoring in anything with a religious focus sends you down a narrow and poorly paved path to changing majors to archaeology or linguistics. Creating a cocktail of the two is a bitter and confusion-inducing field of study reserved for the more masochistic crowd.

Chapter 1:

Majoring in anything philosophical is usually seen as killing a career before it can even begin. Majoring in anything with a religious focus sends you down a narrow and poorly paved path to changing majors to archaeology or linguistics. Creating a cocktail of the two is a bitter and confusion-inducing field of study reserved for the more masochistic crowd. Curious parties often find themselves in crises of faith and become fodder for online forums of Christian mothers claiming the evil of universities.

Foolish scholars, the lot of them.

Those who decide to study one of the two aforementioned fields, and dedicate their lives to it, usually find themselves with two options when faced with the current job market. Firstly being a life of scraping by in some job at a corporation where their knowledge will cause questions of if their jobs and, by extension, their lives have any purpose. The second is going all in, attaining a PhD, and then become a professor that will watch the vicious cycle of their own mistakes repeat with a group of new faces every semester.

The second option is where one Doctor Azariah Fell found himself, in his office with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dust rag in hand. His usual coat was hanging by the door, bowtie draped over the hook as well, the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone. Blue eyes gazed over his small office of bookshelves of various sizes and one large mahogany desk, that took up most of the space, while a few chairs and boxes filled in the rest. One lone Epipremnum aureum plant draped over a bookshelf. He scratched his head, short, blond wisps of hair waving back and forth.

“Where to begin,” he gave a wondering sigh, but not even an echo came to answer.

Each book in the small office was a prized piece of literature. Some were more modern analyses of recent global issues that were rooted deep in religious history. Most were original theories and investigations into social repercussions of the creations and deaths of various religions. The few more dedicated students that made it into Dr. Fell’s office hours were graced by the presence of great religious scholars through texts dating back to 440 BCE. Most were wise enough to know better than to touch the books. Others were promptly asked to leave. On top of the bookshelves and the desk, pictures of Azariah’s expeditions from Ajanta Caves to L'Abbaye-aux-Hommes were the only evidence that could convince his students that he did leave the small college town.

While he found the rumors of his life outside of the classroom rather immature, he could understand where they came from. Azariah took great pride in each of his books and had created a rather clever system to read each one in a cycle. He didn’t want any to feel left out, after all. Which is also why he took the time, even if it kept him late into the early mornings, to personally clean his office. Especially at the end of each school year.

While the university did have janitorial staff, he found himself in a rather enjoyable tradition of cleaning and reorganizing his office before the beginning of the summer vacation. He found it therapeutic, taking each title into his hands and removing what little dust sat on the top and cover. It wasn’t essentially uncommon for him to become lost in them, losing hours on end, and having to extend the cleaning into the nights and days following. His record for the quickest cleaning was 5 days, according to his co-workers. During his fifth year of this tradition, Gabriel came on the third day and gave him a copy of the keys to the department building with annoyed and sleep-deprived scrutiny.

He didn’t mean to keep the man, he really didn’t. It also wasn’t his fault that the building that kept their offices was one of the oldest on the campus, having no automated doors like the STEM buildings or keycard access like the Language Departments. It was a small, outmoded building with only four offices, creaking doors, and few windows. But it was like a second home to Azariah, even if his co-workers made their disdain for the building known regularly. His office offered him a reprieve from his obligations to the administration and students alike. The building was so well hidden, tucked behind a new, taller building that had been in the process of being erected for the past few years. In fact, if it was not for Gabriel’s popularity with students, Azariah was certain that the students would never know the building even existed. It would be much easier that way, he assured himself as he took down his personal copy of Frank M. Cross’s Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic.

Dr. Fell had tried the book as a required text for his first semester of teaching, but it was proven out of the range of most students—if the mid-term tests were anything to go by. It led to a rather demeaning conversation with Gabriel about their “commitment to the students’ education and making knowledge more palatable”. Azariah quickly took on a commitment to figuring out ways out of commitments. He had fulfilled his last commitment of the year to the university by attending the all too hot graduation ceremony, feeling as if hell itself was rising up around them that year. It was quite unfair that the fall graduation, being an annoyingly diminished number comparatively, used the campus’ gymnasium for their ceremony every year. He was never asked to attend that ceremony. Or rather, he had politely denied the request three times in his early years and the administration finally got around to understanding subtlety.

Azariah’s personal copies of History of Religions from The University of Chicago Press were next, all 39 volumes. He took great pride in his collection of books and had gone to great lengths to acquire a few of them. However, the volumes of this particular journal pre-dating 1980 were quite elusive. He could access quite a few articles online from various universities’ databases, and probably could find some copies in libraries, but…

“Who would settle for just sampling such material?” Azariah picked up the newest volume, sitting down to take a quick break.

A loud knock at the door saw to it that the break was exactly 3 minutes and 33 seconds long. Quick indeed.

“I’ve already sent in grades to administration. If you are looking to persuade me to change yours, go home,” Azariah called out, not bothering to look up from his book.

“Azariah, it’s Gabriel,” a familiar and muffled voice responded.

“Oh, come in then!” Azariah called out again, marking his page as the Department Head entered his office.

Long legs, wide shoulders, strong jaw, violet eyes, and a few dignified silver hairs made up one Doctor Gabriel Leone. He had been the Religious Studies Department Head Teacher before Azariah had even begun working at the university. The students flocked to Gabriel’s classes as if the man was Jesus himself, but Azariah knew better if the way he spoke of his students (and colleagues) after a few beers was anything to go by. Gabriel looked around the room before lowering his eyes to the book in his colleague's hands. “Annual cleaning, I take it?”

“Yes, well,” Azariah promptly stood, clearing his throat as he set the book aside, “Did you know there is an interesting piece on animal sacrifices in Judaism, Christianity, and-”

“Yes, very interesting,” He turned around, eyes scanning over the walls and floor, “Azariah, when was the last time you checked your emails?”

“Last week, I believe. Is something wrong?”

“Well, yes,” Gabriel retrieves his smartphone from one of his slacks’ pockets, unlocking it and holding it up, “I think it’s been longer than a week, Azariah. I sent this notice out two weeks ago.”

Azariah takes a step back as he adjusts his glasses to focus on the words on the screen.

Religious Studies Department Faculty:

I hope your students have finished their final exams, essays, or projects. It has been a long year, but we are at the final stretch. And as the school year comes to an end, changes are taking place. We have long loved our little corner of the campus, with all its faulty wiring, lack of air conditioning, potential asbestos, and absolute lack of access to the wifi. That being said, I have the honor to announce that our patience has paid off! Our department will be moving locations into the new Liberal Arts building on the North side of campus. The current building will be demolished over the summer vacation to make way for a new lecture hall. Please see me about your new office room number and prepare your belongings to move. We will officially cease operations in our current location a week after graduation.

Congratulations to us! Doctor Gabriel Leone

Azariah looked up from the phone, swallowing at Gabriel’s smile. One week. One week from graduation would be the next day, giving Azariah–

“You have until 7 PM tomorrow to pack everything up and move it to your new office. You have 26 hours to do so,” Gabriel pocketed his phone and headed towards the door. “Oh! Your office is 302 and the door is a code lock. The code is your ID number, so no more keys!”

Azariah was thankful for the click of the door’s bolt, bringing a quiet pause to his thoughts. He stood, taking in his office once more, and felt his heart begin to race. 26 hours. Why had no one told him? Did everyone else already move out? How was he going to move everything over? Would there be enough room for everything? What about his desk and bookshelves? What was wrong with their current building? Why hadn’t they noticed he wasn’t-

“Oh, you are not a first-year student! Get it together, Azariah,” he smacked his cheeks, leaving pink traces across them. “I suppose I should see the new office before I begin hauling boxes.”

The new Liberal Arts Building was in the North quad while the old Religious Studies building was in the East quad. In theory, they were close. In practice, with buildings being locked up for the summer, it took Azariah nearly 20 minutes just to reach the front doors. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but a few books and his lone plant in his arms kept him from reaching his handkerchief. Soon enough, the building (all white, box-like, and uncharacteristically new) loomed over him, offering a reprise from the sun. He jumped a couple of centimeters when the doors opened, a gust of cool air rushing out to counter the roasting heat waves.

‘Well, that is a nice change, I suppose,’ Azariah thought as he elbowed the elevator button.

The first thing Azariah noticed was that corridors were immaculate and very white, save for the light wood floors. His steps echoed down the hall as he passed various study areas for students, coming to rooms 310 and 311 before realizing how far down his room was. Curiosity came over him as he paused, looking right and left to read the names on each door.

310 Doctor G. Leone Religious Studies Department Head

311 Doctor B. Bubb Philosophy Studies Department Head

“Philosophy? Well, it’ll be nice to have new neighbors,” Azariah muttered before continuing his trek, arms beginning to feel sore.

Passing the offices of Micheal, Uri, and a couple of other familiar faculty (along with many unfamiliar ones of the left of the hallway that Azariah couldn’t put enough energy into remembering names), Azariah let out a sigh of relief. As he was only a few steps from room 303, muffled music drifts through the air. The source was coming from the room across from Azariah’s office, room 302. Azariah stared at the door, attempting to make out the music for a brief moment before scoffing.

‘Bebop,’ Azariah rolled his eyes as he set down his plant to punch in his faculty ID number into the keypad above the handle. The door opened easily, almost weightless, to a space that was… well, for lack of a better term, bland. It was large– almost twice the size of Azariah’s current office. But it was so clean, bright, and empty. The only color came from a large tree that could be seen from the large bay window, pushing out from the wall to create a nice nook to sit. The floor was the same as the hallways and Azariah was eager to move his rug that he received from a nice man (that he may or may not have had relations with one summer) from Casablanca into the new space.

Setting the books down on the nook, Azariah gazed out the window to find a small courtyard below. A couple of benches faced each other along a diagonal path that connected to the outlined paths of the square. It looked as though plants were in the process of being integrated into the space, but only dirt so far. Which made the large tree quite out of place, taking up a large portion of the courtyard.

“Speaking of plants…” Azariah pushed away from the window, heading back towards the door to retrieve his Epipremnum aureum.

He opened the door, only for a sound ‘What the fuck’ to follow a rather loud thump. Azariah quickly pushed the door open wider looking for the source, only for another thump to come from behind said door.

“For fuck’s sake! Close the door!”

Head whipping around the door, Azariah looked down at his plant, the only living thing he could trust himself taking care of. However, it was no longer on the floor, but rather in the lap of someone with their ass on the ground, hunched over, hands pressed into his face, and with very little sense of grace. Shoulder length red hair was the first thing to catch Azariah’s attention, shortly followed by the now clear and loud sound of an electric guitar coming from across the hall.

“Oh! I’m very sorry about that!” Azariah stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He bent down, trying to get a better look at the redhead. “Excuse me, but what are you doing with my plant?”

A pair of black sunglasses, round in shape, were perched on the man’s pointed nose. Said nose was quite red along with his right cheek that a hand was still pressed to. He tried to snarl but winced with a slight groan as his other hand came up to rub his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The stranger was a mess of sharp edges that were accentuated by tightly fitting black clothing.

“Well, if you hadn’t left the thing out here in the cold air like an imbecile-”

For a split moment, confusion of several factors in this situation collided within Azariah’s head. One was the plant. Two was the stranger. Three was the poorly chosen music. But of all things to focus on, his mind decided:

“Aren’t you worried about heatstroke in all that black clothing?”

Azariah quickly regretted opening his mouth, his cheeks heating up as silence overcame the two parties, both staring at each other for more than a few seconds beyond what would be socially appropriate. Azariah looked away in shame before laughter erupted from the stranger. Maybe ‘laughter’ is too generous to describe the cackle that overtook the music. The man seemingly calmed down enough as Azariah’s embarrassed face slowly morphed into one of disdain, blue eyes narrowed at the man’s feet.

“Hey, don’t be glaring at me like that. You’re the one that abandoned this guy out here!”

“Well, you don’t have to laugh. It’s a serious concern! And I didn’t abandon it, I just set it down as I saw to my new office.”

The stranger looked up at the closed door then back at Azariah before snickering. He stood up, plant in one hand while the other dusted off his jeans. Azariah followed suit, with eyes on his plant and a piece of his mind that wanted to yank the pot out of the man’s hands. But before that piece could convince all the other parts, the plant was held out before him, the pot balancing in the man’s palm. Taking the plant, Azariah looked up at the man, mouth open but tongue still.

“Name’s Anthony Crowley, but everyone just calls me Crowley, from the Philosophy Department. And,” Crowley held his thumb towards the open office door, music quieting down towards the end, “This is my office.”

A feeling of relief came over Azariah, knowing now just who this stranger was that he had hit with his door. And then a wave of panic set in as he realized he had hit his neighbor in the face, with his door.

“Oh Lord, I am so very sorry!” He paused in a slight panic, stepping forward to try and look at the damage he had caused. The panic increased as he pulled Crowley’s hand away from his nose, apparently opening the gates for blood to dribble out. “You’re bleeding! I should have looked earlier to see if there is any damage…” He looked around, spotting a restroom sign right down the hall.

Now, Crowley, for all intents and purposes, was not one to be simply dragged along in things. He was such a petty enough of a being that he went out of his way to do quite the opposite, much to the constant annoyance of his colleagues. But, whether it was due to the curiosity of his new neighbor or the smack to the face had caused a delay in his brain, he found himself being dragged down the hall quite willingly. He also willingly let the man wipe his face with a wet paper towel before watching him look around for a first aid kit, plant still in hand, as he instructed Crowley to hold the towel to his nose. Curiosity indeed.

He finally found his voice after a few minutes of just watching. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s not broken or anything, and I have ice in my office.”

Azariah finally stopped moving. “You do?”

“Yeah, I have a mini-fridge in my office. It has a freezer.”

Taking a step forward, Azariah moved the towel away from his face. “Can you remove your glasses? I would like to just make sure it’s not anything serious.”

Crowley took a step back, bringing the towel back up to his nose. “Nah, it’s fine,” He poked and pinched his nose like some sort of proof. “Come on, I have some coffee on in my office.”

“But-”

“It’s fine, uh…” Crowley stared at the man. ‘Shit. I forgot to ask for his name!”

Azariah returned the look for a moment before gasping. “I’m so very sorry for not introducing myself! I am Doctor Azariah Fell.”

“Azariah?”

“Azariah.”

“Bit… religious. Isn’t it?”

“One of the many reasons for my field of study.”

Seeing no reason to argue such a simple question, Crowley nodded. “Well then, shall we?”

Azariah’s smile seemed to shine as he followed Crowley back to his office. He could spare a minute or two before worrying about moving his belongings.

Bonus:

Many hours later, as the sun was setting with the illusion of cooler temperatures, Crowley found himself regretting his clothing choice. He silently cursed his choices that lead to him, Azariah, and strange woman from the English Department that knew Azariah from some conference, hauled boxes of books from the East Quad to the North. At least there was a promise of alcohol for his good deeds.

#good omens #good omens big bang #Aziraphale #crowley #Azriaphale/crowley #Professors AU #university au #Aziraphale is a religious studies professor #Crowley is a philosophy professor

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vintagebiker43 · 4 years ago

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Parliamo della più grande scoperta degli ultimi 5 anni. No non è Netflix, ma LE MILF. Per quei quattro che non lo sapessero, MILF è l’acronimo di: Mother I’d Like to Fuck. Che in italiano vuol dire: Madre de famiglia a cui je daremmo volentieri l’involtino de vitella. Care Milf, me rivolgo a voi... ma l’avreste mai detto che agli sgoccioli della carriera v’arrivava sta botta de culo? Voglio di, fino all’altro ieri ve chiamavano SIGNORA, che era l’acronimo di: Sopra Il Ginocchio Non Occorre Rasarsi Ancora. E invece no, adesso siete tornate in carreggiata. Siete il sogno erotico de tutti i giovani. Ma chi ce pensava quando stavo a scuola che dopo dieci anni l’amici mia se sarebbero voluti scopà mi madre! Se l’avessi saputo avrei litigato co tutti. E invece oggi è così, ve tocca. I ragazzi ve guardano co gli stessi occhi de mi nonna quando a Forum entrava er giudice Santilichieri. Quando diceva: “Mi ritiro per deliberare” a mi nonna je se drizzavano i peli. E questo siete voi, un sogno proibito. Ve desiderano come ‘na Playstation 4. Consumano più Scottex pensando a voi che quando se magnano l’alette de pollo. Se de pomeriggio ne salutate uno pe’ strada, quello torna a casa e se fa venì i muscoli sui calli. Oggi infatti siete la categoria più cliccata de Pornhub, ma da grandi poteri derivano grandi responsabilità. Voi credevate che ormai i giochi erano fatti, che ve potevate riposà, e invece no! Alla luce dei fatti, ve dovete tirà a lucido come la Scavolini de Cracco. Nell’immaginario collettivo siete il Maradona della vagina! Voi pensavate che ormai la discoteca fosse un ricordo lontano e invece no! Dovete rispolverà il tacco 12, ce mettete dentro la sciatica e via a fa l’alba bevendo cocktail che non sapete manco pronuncià e poi ogni du ore andate al bagno de nascosto e ve ciucciate un paio de bustine de Voltaren. Pe’ sopravvive dico. E non importa se la mattina gestite un’azienda, se siete avvocati in carriera o se ormai fatturate più der proprietario della discoteca, no! La sera ve dovete sdraià sul bancone come na salamandra co la labirintite, accantonà il master in economia applicata, usà solo er presente indicativo, e passà tre ore a parlà de Giulia De Lellis co uno che c’ha più addominali che peli. Questo dovete fà. Voi pensavate che ormai l’intimo spaiato fosse un diritto che v’eravate conquistate sul campo, insieme alla vestaglia de pile, e invece manco pe’ niente! Oggi dovete ritirà fori er bustino da tigre e posà le bustine de oki. Ricordatevelo che è importante: SÌ al bustino da tigre, NO alle bustine de Oki, (i famosi oki della tigre). Così è, ve lo dovete strigne finché le tette non v’arrivano sotto ar collo, da lontano deve sembrà che state a tené in braccio un ragazzino coi braccioli. Non se torna più indietro ormai. Voi avevate già cominciato a chiamà i buchi d’a cellulite pe nome pe’ entracce in confidenza e invece manco pe’ niente! Da oggi la parola d’ordine è SQUAT: ginnastica per le chiappe. Ve devono venì le chiappe talmente dure che quando ve sedete sta scomodo er divano. Però ce riuscite benissimo. Sta storia delle Milf ve piace e se vede, e me piace pure a me, perché sono un grande fan della categoria. Oggi c’avete il potere in mano ma ve rendete conto? Ma fate qualcosa! Che ne so: riuniteve, organizzateve, candidateve, sfruttate il momento! Oppure fondate un sindacato: CGIL, CISL e MILF! È perfetto, se iscrivono tutti! C’è però da dire una cosa. Io capisco che la situazione vi esalti, esalterebbe chiunque. Però alcune de voi esagerano. Co sta storia de esse piacenti, alcune Milf fanno de tutto pe’ somiglià alle ventenni. Ritocchini, aggiustamenti, tiranti, impalcature... pare er festival della blefaroplastica. Ma allora non avete capito un cazzo! A NOI CE PIACCIONO LE VECCHIE !!! Voi ce piacete così, non ve dovete ringiovanì! Ma che volete fa la fine de ‘na COUGAR qualsiasi? (Per chi non lo sapesse: dicesi COUGAR una MILF senza figli. Tutti credono che sia la traduzione de Puma. In realtà COUGAR è solo l’acronimo de: Carrozzeria Omologata Usato Garantito Autonomamente Revisionato) Voi non c’avete bisogno de caccià, voi siete già all’apice della catena alimentare! È proprio quell’aura de senilità che ce eccita. Si, noi non volemo la faccia liscia, noi ve volemo leccà le rughe! Non volemo la pelle fresca, noi volemo la carne frollata da trent’anni de contributi! Noi non volemo più una con cui condivide nuove esperienze, volemo una che ce insegna l’abecedario der sesso dalla A al pompino con lo Zenzero! (Ps: ricordate che è un testo comico. Er pompino co lo zenzero fa malissimo. Non rifatelo a casa. Manco in macchina) Questo volemo, non ce cascate! Delle ventenni non je frega più niente a nessuno. Hai visto che pure la Ferragni pe’ rimané ar top ha dovuto fa un figlio? Oggi so loro che vogliono esse come voi! So loro che devono sta attente che il ragazzo je se scopa la zia, no il contrario. Dopo anni de sofferenze, avete avuto quello che ve meritavate: il riscatto, la vendetta, la resurrezione. E se oggi ‘na ventenne entrerà in camera e ve troverà al letto col suo fidanzato, che c’ha 10 anni in meno di vostro figlio, perché è così che succederà, voi la guarderete negli occhi, lei guarderà voi, voi riguarderete lei e poi je direte: “A BIANCANEVE, CHI È LA PIÙ BELLA DEL REAME ADESSO???”

anonima su web

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mrfog5 · 5 years ago

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gotatext · 5 years ago

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PREFERRED NAME — nora. i think i started going by it in like, 2009?? my full name is eleanor but i hated it n thought it was way too pretentious n i never felt like it fitted me so when i started writing on forums i decided i’d be a nora rather than eleanor and then my school friends called me it and it just kinda stuck, the only person who calls me eleanor is my mum

PRONOUNS — she / her / ethereal being beyond comprehension

AGE — 23 but i tell everyone im 21 because even tho time is literally fake im desperately clinging to that fleeting thing we call youth trying to catch it like smoke in my hands

PINTEREST — i actually have two. this one is my main one where i just cram all my shit n i’ve had it for years and some of its super unorganised. then i also have this one which is one i made for exclusively female characters. it started as mythological figures but now its like, women in literature and the occasional oc as well. variety is the spice of life!

DISCORD — lindsay lohan’s meth#8664

TUMBLR (PERSONAL/MUSE/RPH) — i used to be froseths but now im pvrscphones cos ya gal is a fucking whore for mythology

OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE — oi oi guvna ere’s me twitta. also here’s my letterboxd n my goodreads if anyone still uses tht

MYER-BRIGGS — enfp / infp border .... the classic profile of a lit student

HP HOUSE — hufflepuff, am fuckin mad.

ZODIAC — libra which is a joke because i am in no way balanced but i guess i AM indecisive and a peacekeeper so?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY? — i believe it when it says good shits gonna happen in my life and blame it if bad shit happens but i don’t strongly follow it i just find it interesting

HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU STARTED RPING ON TUMBLR — maybe like 14?? my first rp blog here is literally so embarassing i wrote as clove from the hunger games n my best friend irl wrote cato :/ it was wild

WHAT YEAR WAS IT? — like 9 years ago?? 2010 maybs

NAME A RANDOM ROLEPLAY THAT STICKS OUT IN YOUR MEMORY — me n my friend ellie made this really cool group the summer before we left for uni which was loosely based on a concept mentioned mayb once in the divergent series, but it gave us loads of freedom to make it our own thing. it was called the fringe n it was like..... this dystopian society where people with different genes were cut off from the rest of society n lived in overrun slum cities where different groups had like, a monopoly over weapons, produce, etc.... my character jack was the leader of this lost-boy-esque tribe called the wolf pack who were hunters n used to run across the rooftops wearing the skins of animals they’d killed and engage in tribal rituals with sacrifices to the gods n shit. sounds lame but everyone there was so invested in their character arcs that it was a shame to see it go. but ! it kind of reached its end point so we blew it up w nukes n they all died. tragic.

WHAT WEIRD ANIMAL WOULD YOU HAVE AS A PET IF IT WAS REALISTIC — a fox?? do ppl keep foxes? idk i’ve always just felt a sense of connection w them like when a fox stares at me im like this shit is life i am living and breathing in this bitch.... visceral

NAME THE FIRST SONG ON YOUR DISCOVER WEEKLY ON SPOTIFY OR THE FIRST SONG THAT COMES ON APPLE MUSIC / ITUNES SHUFFLE — everbody party tonight by cobra man n summer girl by haim..... not my usual stuff but big summer chillin vibes,.....

NAME A BOOK THAT YOU READ IN SCHOOL THAT YOU SURPRISINGLY LIKED — lord of the flies and also the handmaid’s tale. one of assignments was to write a chapter from another character’s perspective n i chose moira

NAME A BOOK YOU HATED THAT MOST PEOPLE LIKED — skellig. fuck off with ur asprin ugly bat man i don’t care. also of mice and men. don’t care about the rabbits or curley’s goddamn wife.

WHAT TV SHOW DID YOU RECENTLY BINGE? — im not a big binger bc i find it jst makes me depressed if i watch tv all day but im nearly finished stranger things season 3 n i recently finished euphoria (big rec but proceed w caution as quite triggering content)

FAVOURITE QUOTE — cool girl speech from gone girl. but also “there’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls” i know its like.... such an overused quote but it really encapsulates this kind of feral girlhood that a few of my characters like bridget n greta have tapped into. i also loved the line “i feel like i could eat the world raw” from song of achilles, that really captures this kind of.... pure n childlike enthusiasm tht i wanna achieve w rory

LINK TO A VINE THAT EXUDES YOUR ‘ENERGY’ — this is my energy completely am always covered in glitter n staring broodily out of the windows of ubers at 4am like im in the sad bit of an indie film

DO YOU WRITE OUTSIDE OF RP? WHAT DO YOU WRITE? — uhh.... not as much as i shd.... i want to be a writer so i shd be makin some effort to get my stuff Out Into The World but im just not.... lol. ive done a lot of poetry collections . i wnt to finish a novel @ some point too.

THREE YOUTUBERS YOU STILL TRUST — bold of you to assume i trust any youtubers

A CELEBRITY CRUSH THAT JUST WON’T QUIT — id literally die for saoirse ronan n timothee chalamet :/ chance perdomo also owns my ass.

EVER MEET A CELEBRITY? SHARE YOUR STORY — i once high-fived dani harmer, the actress who played tracy beaker. today my sister text me tryin to make me guess what celebrity she just saw on holiday in wales and for ages she let me think it was timmothee but it was actually bradley walsh from the chase :/

WHAT’S YOUR PICTURE-PERFECT NIGHT? — i am in a bomb ass crop top and mini skirt, several scrunchies in my hair, glitter all over my face, wearing cowboy boots. we eat dinner in a trendy but affordable pub that doubles up as a cocktail bar n then we drink zombies or sex on the beaches n go to a rave where everyone is on the same wavelength n i share drugs with girls in the toilets and we swap numbers knowing we will never text each other but its ok bc in that moment we feel like we are soulmates and everyone is super drunk n touching everyone else n its all very visceral and we walk through the woods when the rave ends and lie in the grass because we wish to suck out all the marrow of life

A CONSPIRACY THEORY YOU KINDA BELIEVE IN — princess diana was murdered

ARE ALIENS REAL? — maybe the real aliens are the friends we made along the way

PLAY ANY PHONE GAMES? WHICH ONES? — love island game im addicted and way too invested in my fictional relationship with bobby, a cartoon

WHAT’S A FILM YOU LOVED WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG AND RECENTLY WATCHED, ONLY TO FIND OUT YOU DON’T ANYMORE — bold of u to assume i remember my childhood. but if we’re talking last 10 years angust, thongs n perfect snogging is so so cringe

DO YOU COLLECT ANYTHING? — pairs of glasses belonging to other ppl when they break / get new ones even though i can see perfectly well.

WHAT’S SOMETHING YOU WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT BUT YOU’RE TOO LAZY? — mythology...... always a craving and a wish i’d read like ancient texts but my school wasn’t good enough to do greek or latin or any of that shit n even tho i could read english translations i cant be bothered. also criminal psychology

THREE LANGUAGES YOU DON’T SPEAK, BUT WISH YOU COULD — italian, french and latin

MOVIE YOU’VE WATCHED MORE THAN 5 TIMES — ladybird, about time, angus thongs, shrek 2, what we do in the shadows, the history boys, atonement, coraline, the breakfast club, ferris bueller’s day off

NAME A FICTIONAL CHARACTER FROM TV/FILM/MOVIE/GAME/BOOK THAT YOU FIND YOURSELF PROJECTING ON / YOU RELATE TO — cecilia lisbon. rue in euphoria. alison brie in glow. adam parrish in the raven cycle. richard papen. olivia cooke’s character in thoroughbreds. allen ginsberg in kill your darlings. lily in sex education. holliday grainger’s character in the film animals --- i too am an aspiring writer who never writes and just gets drunk instead .

DO YOU FOLLOW ANY SPORTS? WHO DO YOU ROOT FOR? — no. cba

HOBBIES BESIDES WASTING AWAY HERE? — i go to the movies basically every day bcos i work in a cinema. im also a voracious reader n i occasionally do theatre or costume making

PLUG A TV SHOW / MOVIE / BOOK / VIDEO GAME / ETC… YOU WISH MORE PEOPLE WOULD CHECK OUT — where the wild things are (film by spike jonze). animals. beats. the book fen by daisy johnson and a girl is a half formed thing by eimar mcbride. andy warhol’s biography from a to b and back again

WHOSE BRAIN WOULD YOU LIKE TO PICK, ALIVE OR DEAD? — phoebe waller-bridge on how i get her life. carey mulligan on how she got to be such a good actress n how i can become her. maybs wes anderson. maybs gillian flynn. i tend to listen to podcasts w the ppl i really wanna pick the brains of.

TEAM EDWARD OR JACOB? — edward :/

LAST MOVIE SEEN IN THEATRE — blinded by the light n i lovd it

DO YOU STILL READ? — when i finished uni i kinda got out of the habit but this week i finished two books so ive set myself the challenge of a book a week.

IF SO, WHAT ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING? — i finished song of achilles yesterday n i also finished call me by your name yesterday. started circe by madeline miller today, im also partway through milkman by anna burns and the plays of annie barker

ON A SCALE OF 1-10, HOW MUCH DID YOU HATE FILLING THIS OUT? – 3 i didnt hate it bcos at heart i am self-indulgent and love fashioning some sense of self when i feel lost in a world that is scary and constantly changing

#wshedtask002

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keith-mizuguchi · 5 years ago

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Year One

It’s been awhile — I’m sure I’ll eventually get this writing about LA thing down pat. But it’s been a busy year. I’ve enjoyed my time down here in Los Angeles. There’s so much I love about the city and surrounding area. I still feel like a newbie — haven’t explored enough. But hoping to do more of that in the new year. The things I do love — food, drinks and music — as you’ll see below are still a big part of what I’ve been able to enjoy outside of work. It’s been a fun year +. Some highlights below.

WORK

My time at KNX has been a learning experience. It is one of the most challenging newsrooms to work in — not many people are cut out for the pace. But I feel like I’ve taken the challenges head-on. As some of you know, I’m now full-time staff, serving as editor and producer. It’s rewarding to know that people appreciate the work I’ve done — that’s not always the case in this business. We’ve had numerous breaking stories and I think the station has risen to the occasion each time. Proud to be part of the team.

Outside of KNX — I’ve made a promise to myself to try to branch out and finally write about food this year. I still feel there are so many stories that need to be told, not only here in LA, but also back up in the Bay. So I’m preparing to pitch, pitch, pitch to see if I get any bites.

FOOD

I know some will say this is blasphemous, but I think Los Angeles beats the Bay in food and drinks. It was part of what attracted me to the area. I love the fact that there is such a wide-range — from expensive tasting menus to inexpensive strip mall restaurants that are out of this world. One unfortunate thing about both markets — I think you’re going to continue to see a lot of closures in the coming years, many of which will surprise people. It is really, really challenging for small businesses to survive in these cities. Not to mention, the competition is fierce and you really have to stand out. It’s why I respect my friends who are owners and chefs/bartenders. It can be a brutal, brutal business. But on to the good — here is some of what I have enjoyed eating and drinking down here (and it can be a decent list if you ever come down to visit).

Bavel (Arts District) - I’ve been blown away twice by this restaurant. It is always packed, is plenty loud (probably too loud for many), but the food and service have been terrific. Middle Eastern cuisine that has so much flavor, it jumps off the plate. Good cocktails too.

Bon Temps (Arts District) - I had a terrific dinner here. The dishes are beautifully prepared, almost like art. Lincoln Carson is obviously known for his pastries so even though I’m not a dessert person, it’s a necessity to save some room. The one thing about many of the restaurants in the Arts District is they’re built out of warehouses — so they have an industrial feel. But I didn't get that sense here.

Joy (Highland Park) - I loved Pine & Crane and this is their sister restaurant. Very casual, and for the most part, smaller bites. Comforting, seasonal Taiwanese food. It’s weird, but I really love the small seasonal appetizers that they have on display in the deli counter. They’re delicious.

Ototo (Echo Park) - Easily my favorite bar (they serve sake, lots and lots of sake). The owner Courtney is so knowledgeable and I love picking her brain about some of the choices on the extensive menu. There are so many interesting and unique sakes on their list — and it changes up quite a bit. It’s not just sake here as they have a really nice menu of Japanese snacks and food that is quite good. I have to also mention their restaurant next door, Tsubaki, which has some of the best Japanese food I’ve had here in LA.

Alta Adams (West Adams) - When I think of Alta Adams, I just think I’m being welcomed into the West Adams neighborhood. Unlike many restaurants, the staff seems like it’s made up of people from this historic neighborhood. And they treat guests with the hospitality that you would expect if you’re visiting their home. The food is terrific — just really comforting Southern food. It’s a lively restaurant and has one of the best vibes in the city. It’s the perfect fit in the perfect spot for a growing area.

Some of my other favorites that I’ll call standbys — Animal, Petit Trois, Ronan, Here’s Looking at You, Night + Market Song, Guerrilla Tacos, Tsujita, Rose Cafe, Rossoblu, AOC, Apollonia’s Pizzeria, Republique, and every place in Koreatown and San Gabriel Valley.

DRINK

Old Lightning (Marina Del Rey) - It will cost you far more than most places, but this is one of the most unique bars I’ve ever been to in this country. The spirit list has so many rare and unique bottles, it will make your head spin. The cocktails are terrific, but I think a tasting is the way to truly “get” this bar. Reservations only and they do take your phone at the door.

Bibo Ergo Sum (Beverly Grove) - I’d call this my go-to spot if I want a really great drink. The menu is pretty extensive with lighter and more spirit forward cocktails. Very cool decor inside with big booths and a half-circle bar. I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad drink here.

The Varnish (Downtown) - A very cool speakeasy in the back of Cole’s. The best way to order is dealer’s choice and let the bartenders make you something.

The Normandie Club (Koreatown) - Just a good solid bar with a little bit of everything. You can get a really nice cocktail, a shot and a beer, a glass of wine. I loved Walker Inn too, which was in a secret door, but it’s since closed.

Gold Line (Highland Park) - First of all, I have a lot of respect for Peanut Butter Wolf, who is one of the owners (he also owns Stones Throw Records). I love the fact that part of his record collection is in the bar and he has guest DJ’s nightly spinning records. All that and the drinks are really solid.

Some others I’ve enjoyed — Bar Clacson, The Wolves, Employees Only, Death and Co. (yes I know it’s brand new.. but it was really great my first visit during their soft opening), Melrose Umbrella Co., The Roger Room, The Daily Pint, Here & Now

MUSIC

The way I get away from the stress of work and the news cycle that never ends is going to live shows. And I went to way too many over the past year. But I wanted to check out as many venues as I could down here. I still haven’t been to a few — namely The Roxy and Whisky a Go Go. But here are a few of my favorite shows.

The Roots — Hollywood Bowl. I’ve seen them a few times but this was by far the group at its best. Black Thought did a crazy 5-10 minute medley of hip hop songs that was something I’ve never seen before.

Anderson.Paak — The Forum. I feel fortunate every time I get to see Anderson and the Free Nationals. I’m pretty sure he’s the artist I’ve seen the most in my life. His show at the Forum was amazing — hometown, so many great guest appearances. I continue to say he is the best live show going today.

Chris Cornell Tribute Show — The Forum. I was bummed when this sold out, and then magically, a few tickets went on sale a day or two before the concert. Chris Cornell was one of my favorite lead singers of all-time. And the show was 5-5 1/2 hours of amazing tributes.

Prophets of Rage - The Mayan. My mind was blown. This group, which is now disbanded with the return of Rage Against the Machine, was exactly what I thought — a mix of Rage, Public Enemy and Cypress — all in a cohesive and awesome group.

Also loved Herbie Hancock at the Bowl, Childish Gambino at the Forum, Big KRIT in the OC, my first time seeing JID and Vince Staples, The Raconteurs, two amazing groups - Bikini Kill and Sleater Kinney and finally getting to see Carlos Santana. And there was really so much more. Yes I go to a lot of shows.

It’s been a fun year down in LA. Yes, I still love the Bay and miss my family and friends. But meeting new people down here and making new friends has been a lot of fun. Excited to see what 2020 has in store for me.

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ayerayerproject · 6 years ago

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Picking up the Pieces

by Sarah Ichioka

Sarah Ichioka writes the keynote essay for Plasticity, a photography series by visual artist Ernest Goh on plastic pollution found on Punggol Beach, Singapore. The photography series was made during Exactly Foundation Art Residency programme 2018-19.

Sarah Ichioka writes the keynote essay for Plasticity, a photography series on microplastics and plastic pollution found on Singapore’s Punggol Beach, by visual artist, Ernest Goh for Exactly Foundation Art Residency programme.

On each page, a new object catches my eye; like jewels, like candy. I turn them over in my mind’s hand, admiring their lustrous surfaces, vivid colours.

My consumer-lust is aroused from its never too-deep sleep. That red shaft would make a stunning cocktail ring; that green streak, a tasty topping for a cake.

Mysterious figures appear on the white horizon. Our gazes meet. A wide-eyed soldier hoists his bayonet aloft. A wrinkled beast—a yak?—cocks a smirk in my direction. And wait, is that a… missile?

But then, suddenly, my fantasy falls to the ground. A bent red bottle cap, its curved white logo instantly recognisable. Intrigue flattens to disgust. These aren’t exotic goods whose heft begs handling; they’re nothing but so many tiny bits of trash.

++++

People who spend their time in or near the water—surfers, divers, sailors—are amongst the most passionate anti-plastic campaigners, because they see and feel the effects of ocean pollution first-hand. Photographer Ernest Goh traces the origin of his personal anti-plastic journey to a wave-borne shopping bag that smothered his face. Other friends—a married couple—have shared with me their experience of snorkeling and watching pieces of discarded plastic float by—including food packaging designed by the husband’s very own company.

Even when mediated through photos or videos, for folks more frequently in shopping malls than in the surf, there is a visual aspect of the plastic pollution crisis that imparts an immediate sense of accountability. That object I see lodged in the sea turtle’s nose is most certainly a plastic straw, just like the one I sucked my kopi peng through this morning; that cigarette lighter inside the ribcage of the albatross chick’s carcass is unmistakably the same item that my husband hides beneath his cufflinks and credit card receipts.

This visually self-evident character differentiates our plastic pollution crisis from some of the concurrent, compound emergencies we humans have created. Take our carbon pollution crisis: I have to believe climate scientists when they tell me that my holiday flights hasten the thawing of the permafrost. Or our nitrogen pollution crisis: I have to trust hydrology experts when they say that runoff from fertiliser used to grow my lunch causes massive downstream dead zones. In such cases, obfuscation and denial are easier to sustain, whether by ourselves, by industry lobbyists or by politicians.

The comparative legibility of our plastic pollution crisis might suggest that it is more politically “solvable” than some of these other potentially existential, yet less easily illustrated crises we face.

Having accepted our culpability, how might we begin to atone for it?

One response offers an appealing narrative of consumer activism: maybe we can (mindfully) shop our way out of this mess, by opting for more durable, reusable items? Certainly making a habit of carrying a water flask, a canvas shopping bag, and a set of bamboo eating utensils is a decent place to start, not least as a conversation starter and signal of one’s concern.

Perhaps the problem can be solved if we try our best to #recyclebetter, as the current Singaporean campaign urges? Or is recycling merely a “fig leaf on consumerism” as Jane Muncke, Director of Zurich's Food Packaging Forum puts it?

Maybe we should just tidy up a bit more? When I was a kid, my father would take me for an annual volunteer clean-up of the coast near our California home. Ending the day with sore muscles and a sack full of bullet casings (from a nearby shooting range), cigarette butts, condoms, deodorant rollers, and crumbling chunks of styrofoam was deeply satisfying to me, as tangible evidence of my personal concern and participation. Last year, I chaperoned my daughter’s preschool class on a similar clean-up outing to Singapore’s East Coast Park. This time, I felt rather less contented, overwhelmed by the seeming futility of our attempts, observing casual littering by park users and the floating trash ready to wash ashore as soon as we’d cleared our patch of beach.

As it happens, in about the same timespan as that between my leaving university and becoming a mother, the global volume of plastic production doubled. The same report that documents this leap estimates that global industries have produced 8,300 million metric tons of plastic since 1950. 6,400 million metric tons of this plastic—that’s roughly 100 times the weight of the concrete used to build the Three Gorges Dam, the world’s largest manmade structure—have become waste, nearly 80% of which sits in landfills or our natural environment. Less than 10% has been recycled, while the remainder has been incinerated (as has until recently been standard practice in Singapore).

In Singapore itself, plastic waste per capita has increased nearly 20 percent over the last 15 years. Looking at this country’s plastic bag usage alone, about 2,640 bags are thrown away every three seconds.

Projecting forward current production and pollution trends, another report predicts by 2050 our oceans could contain more plastics than fish (by weight), while the plastics industry itself could consume 15% of our annual carbon budget, and 20% of global oil production.

While our plastic pollution crisis is so overwhelmingly large, it is also mind-twistingly small. Here I mean small in the sense probed by Goh’s photographs: the scale of the microplastics, and now nano-plastics, whose presence has been documented in nearly every corner of our terrestrial and aquatic habitats, and which are now entering our food chain, with unknown, but potentially toxic effects.

The proximity of Goh’s plastic-strewn Punggol beach to a seafood restaurant seems apt. We study the food chain and hydrological cycles as concepts in school, but when most of us enter the “real” world we conveniently forget the practical implications of our systemic connections with the rest of nature.

Understanding the interconnected nature of plastic pollution’s causes and effects is a kind of reawakening. It destabilises the narrative that sees human culture as separate from the natural environment. That story of separation has been a necessary psychological cover for the exploitation of living systems that underpins nearly every aspect of our current economic and political order. Once we remember that ecocide is suicide, will we continue it?

Have we trashed Earth beyond habitability? No problem, we’ll just migrate to Mars, as deckhands or stowaways on a tech oligarch’s spaceship. But wait, turns out we’ve already trashed outer space too. Parts of broken satellites and rockets currently amount to over 8 million kilos of space waste. Rather like ocean plastics, the larger bits of space waste are fragmenting into smaller and smaller pieces, which interfere with digital communications and might even hinder future spacecraft launches.

So let’s turn our eyes back to our damaged and depleted, yet still living and magnificent planet.

“Reduce, reuse, recycle, refuse”? Yes of course, let’s do that. But politely declining plastic straws and rinsing our Coke bottles is simply not enough. Also—and in my view, more importantly—we must act not just as individual consumers but collectively, as concerned citizens and social beings.

With this in mind, let me leave you with an alternative “4 Rs” to consider:

Rebel: Let us raise our voices together, unashamed to share our grief, rage, and disgust at the devastation that our overconsumption-based society has unleashed all around us, clogging our commons and poisoning our sources of sustenance. Let’s insist on better, for ourselves, and for the complex living systems upon which our survival depends.

Root: Let us ground the solutions to our plastic pollution crisis in the lived history and culture of Singapore and its region*. What local wisdom and practices, from karung guni men, to metal tiffins, to banana leaf wrappers and beyond, might be usefully revisited for contemporary use? How might technological and behavioural innovations ground themselves in Singaporeans’ particular resources and values?

Relate: Let us decipher and then communicate the underlying systems that perpetuate this global crisis. Let’s understand for example, who benefits from the otherwise dangerous proliferation of plastics, and how they exert influence on policies and regulations. Let’s study why some national and local governments have taken action to solve the plastic pollution crisis more swiftly than others, and what successful changes early actors have made. Let’s explore how our plastic pollution crisis intersects with other economic, environmental and social systems.

And finally, Regenerate: Let us draw inspiration from the natural world to craft materials and manufacturing cycles that are truly waste-free. Let’s design, build, and inhabit systems that proactively repair past damage, clean up our rubbish, and co-create the conditions for our living world to flourish. It will be a beautiful sight.

Sarah Mineko Ichioka is a Singapore-based urbanist, curator and writer. She leads Desire Lines, a consultancy for environmental, cultural, and social-impact organisations. www.sarahichioka.com

*Ernest Goh’s MA thesis at Goldsmiths followed a similar vein, looking to historical urban successes to inspire contemporary applications. In Goh’s case, the water fountains of ancient Rome inspired the idea for new public water fountains for Singapore, which will be piloted as a part of this project at ADEX 2019.

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Further reading: https://www.plasticpollutioncoalition.org/

https://polymerdatabase.com/polymer%20classes/Plastics%20Industry%20Facts.html

https://polymerdatabase.com/Polymer%20Brands/Plastic%20Manufacturers.html

https://www.opensecrets.org/lobby/lookup.php (tip: enter “plastic” in the Issue search field)

https://www.edb.gov.sg/en/our-industries/energy-and-chemicals.html

http://singapore-companies-directory.com/categories/singapore_plastics.htm

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minjisuh · 6 years ago

Photo

HAIRSTYLE

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LE MANDAT

Partenaire d’épreuve: Andréanne & Co.

Qui: Client oeuvrant dans le commerce de détail de produits pharmaceutiques

Quoi: Événement majeur sur trois jours

Où: L'événement doit avoir lieu à l'étranger (sauf l'Italie)

Qui: Nombre de participant: 100 pharmaciens + 60 conjoint(e)s

Budget global (incluant les frais d'agence): 1,5 million$ CAD

* Penser que le prix par tête est de 9 375$, alors se demander si notre événement vaut 9 375$ par personne (qualité-quantité)

RÉPONSES DE L’AGENCE

- Client actuel d’Andréanne & CO

- Choisir 5-6 villes (sauf l’Italie, la Californie, l’Asie, l’Océanie)

- À nous de recommander la ville et les lieux utilisés

- Pas à inclure le déplacement des pharmaciens (voyagement)

- Hôtel, nourriture, transport à payer mais pas inclure à votre budget → doit inclure direction artistique et logistique

- Pharmaciens propriétaires - employés de la compagnie organisatrice (ont payé pour assister)

- Fort possible qu’on puisse remettre une programmation papier aux juges

- VALEURS DE L’AGENCE/CLIENT: service client attentionné, raffinement et élégance, finesse, soucis du détail, l’humain avant tout

- ÉCHANGE COURRIEL le jour du mandat

- Événement privé et exclusif

- S’agit d’un événement annuel récurrent

- Peut mettre des infos/idées de places sur la clé USB

VALEURS PHARMACIE

PROXIM

Vision unique

Excellence

Pratique professionnelle

BRUNET

Passion du métier

Soucis du bien-être

Service personnalisé

PHARMAPRIX

Confiance

Excellence

Service personnalisé

FAMILIPRIX

Santé

Innovation

L’humanisme

JEAN COUTU (Amitié)

Audace

Innovation

Leadership

IDÉES CRÉA

Jeu d’évasion où ils doivent trouver les ingrédients d’une pilule

Prix gala en forme de bécher

Sarrau avec le logo de l’événement dessus

Un huge erlenmeyer qui explose des confettis (réaction chimique)

Temps libre!!!!! Aller voir des touristy must

BRAINSTORM

THÈMES

Jouer avec les perceptions qu’on a des pharmacies (comme la compagne Je suis plate)

Cirque des idées / jongler avec …

Propulsion (hélice, combustion, flèche, lumière, mouvement, catapulte) → Propulsion sociale, créative et de talents

Coup de main (d’épaule, de pouce)

Sky is the limit

Speak-easy

Stimulation

Crystallisation

ACTIVITÉS (Historique, Culturel, Sport, Nightlife, Nature, Art, Gastronomie)

Montrer les coulisses de la compagnie (volet éducation)

Laisser du temps libre aux participants pour leurs visites touristiques qui ne matchent pas avec le thème (genre Tour Eiffel, musée, marche)

Inclure les 5 sens au travers des 3 jours

Jeu d’évasion où ils doivent trouver les ingrédients d’une pilule -- Labyrinthe

Matcher des gens selon leurs intérêts (relations clients, pharma, angle business)

Construire un jeu vidéo

Virtual Reality

Dégustation

Activité de collectivité, usage des mains (exposition MAC) avec réaction lumineuse, thermique

Géant stop-motion, mural

3D Printer

Attrape-peluche

Système de points avec une récompense à la fin

Machine distributrice

Zeppelin pour passer un message

Montgolfière

Zipline, escalade

Taureau mécanique

Picnic

Souper sur bateaux loués

PARTY/GALA

Verre/coupe lumineuse pour créer des équipes (glow in the dark, action qui déclenche la lumière)

Fontaine (forme en lien avec thème)

Gif machine, mais pimper en criss

Confettis pour le BIG REVEAL

Famous DJ ou Chanteur (Stunt)

DJBooth décoré selon le thème

Ballounes en lien avec le thème

Buffet nice/Bar de bouffe

Mini-golf

DDR

Concours de cocktail personnalisé

Projections/Lumières/Laser

Table disposition funky (en forme de molécules?)

Photographe

Trucs suspendus (bouffe ou autres)

Pouf, espace détente

Système de points en équipe avec une récompense à la fin

Livestream du gala/cérémonie

CADEAUX

Kinder surprise immense en forme de pillule qui ouvre en deux, avec

- une carte de la ville

- chargeur portable

- tote bag avec logo

- cahier de notes et crayon avec logo

INVITATION

Site web et boîte d’invitation

CONFÉRENCIERS

- Peggy Whitson

IMAGES EN RELATION AVEC PHARMACIE

Sarrau

Erlenmeyer ou bêcher ou éprouvette ou fiole

Pots à pillules

La perception des pharmaciens (ils ont une image d’être plate, mais montrer contre ça)

Microscope

Comprimé

Prescription

Capsule qui explosent

Cadeaux en rapport avec la pharmacie

LES NOUVEAUX TRENDS EN PHARMACIE

Il y a une crise de opioid en ce moment

Légalization du cannabis

Amazon qui grandit dans le marché pharmaceutique

Mars: pharmacist awareness month

Drug shortages have been an issue recently

Our professional association is discussing with the government for more roles by the pharmacist (ex: vaccination) and a new salary model

A.I.!!!!

IDÉES LIEUX

1- COPENHAGUE (Danemark - 501.4/1 M AI jobs)

Hôtel: L’Angleterre

Cocktail: KPH Volume, Lokomotivvaerkstedet

Salle congrès: The terminals (bord de l’eau), Skovshoved and Ven. Docken

Gala: Papirhallen, Tivoli Gardens

Traiteur: Dining Six

2- VIENNE (Autriche)

Hôtel: Le Méridien Vienna

Cocktail: Musée Mumok

Salle Congrès: Musée Mumok, Albert Hall

Gala: -

Traiteur: DO&CO

3- PRAGUE (République Tchèque - 543.6/1 M AI jobs)

Hôtel: Cosmopolitan Hotel Prague, NYX Hotel

Cocktail: Hemingway Bar,

Salle Congrès: TechSquare??, Animika Hub

Gala: Forum Karlin,

Traiteur: FB Catering

4- JOHANNESBURG (Afrique du Sud)

Hôtel: Saxon Hotel, AtholPlace Hotel & Villa

Cocktail: Studio 71, Level three, Urban Tree, Salt & Stone

Salle Congrès: Randlords, Perch

Gala: Level three,

Traiteur:

Intéressant: https://sa.sneakerlab.com/#

Autres Idées

5- ZURICH (Suisse)

Hôtel: The Dolder Grand

Cocktail: Jules Verne

Salle Congrès: StageOne

Gala: Aura

Traiteur:

Site pour idées

6- BUENOS AIRES (Argentine)

Hôtel:

Cocktail:

Salle Congrès:

Gala:

Traiteur:

7- MONACO (Monaco)

Hôtel: Hôtel de Paris, Hôtel Metropole de Monte-Carlo

Cocktail:

Salle Congrès: Salle de conférence du Resort Monte-Carlo SBM,

Gala: Salle des étoiles

Traiteur:

Autres idées

APPEL AVEC ANDRÉ

CONGRÈS

Environ 700 personnes dans des centres de congrès, chaque année

Événements de formation, dans la région pour pharmaciens opérants

En France, congrès avec réseau de pharmaciens (300 pharmaciens Familiprix)

Activités oui, rafting pour les conjoints mais maintenant temps libre. C’est souvent des suggestions pour la plupart de temps.

TEMPS HABITUEL: 8h à midi, et 1h30 à 4h30

LA MARQUE ET LES VALEURS

Innovateur: Fêtes des firmes, soirées thématiques, SURPRISE et varié à chaque fois. CÔTÉ INNOVATEUR

Humain: Accent sur les repas, mêlées les gens et que les gens se connaissent

Santé: Pause santé, comme des fruits

SOIRÉE CLÔTURE

Complètement différent de la thématique travail, on est rendu au volet social

CADEAUX

Souvent des partenariats avec des compagnies de cosmétiques

Mettre dans les chambres comme accueil, ou juste avant le gala dans la chambre

AUTRES NOTES

Name tag venait avec l’hôtel, l’affichage dans l’hôtel

Dernière journée de conférence: l’assemblée des actionnaires, conférence d’intérêt générale comme l’expérience, i.e. athlète olympique ou psychologue venait parler. Les invités parlaient de leurs expériences de vies, et c’était en lien avec la thématique habituellement.

Chili, Vienne

Vienne: 25e anniversaire de Familiprix, un bal pour célébrer dans un palais impérial.

Les pharmaciens ont déjà voyagé: ils faut les surprendre dans les événements.

Fiscalement moins admissible de seulement célébrer, faut un peu un volet travail. Sujet léger.

Conjoints: Laisser libre habituellement. Mais souvent, le conjoint est related dans l’industrie pcq c’est des pharmaciens propriétaires.

NOUVEAUX TRENDS: Pharmaciens ont plus de responsabilités pcq médecins trop occupés.

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