#I didn’t even think this was aimed at franco at first

[blairdii]

it’s the funniest thing to me that everyone supports an underdog driver till they actually perform exceptionally well.

take lando for example. he was the fan favourite when he had the midfield car, and was still consistently getting podiums or finishing in points. the second he got his first win, so many people switched and forced an egoistic attitude personality on him without even knowing if he’s got such an attitude or not. and then, everyone ran with it. so it became that when he celebrated his wins, he was egoistic, and when he didn’t celebrate his wins, he was ungrateful.

franco is one of lando fans’ fav, because franco reminds us of lando a lot. while he is loved right now, other fans would switch up on him soon and then force an image on him because it fits their narrative.

people hate on lando because of an image they added themselves, but not because his driving, because his driving is actually good. it’s beautiful.

and till the time, people were happy with their fav winning and their fav loving this little underdog dude. now that this underdog dude is defeating their fav and their fav still loves this little underdog dude, people can’t handle it, as if it’s a crime committed against them.

idk where i went with it, im sleep deprived.

sincerely,

your wyr anon

i have so much to say about this issue.

branching off of this post, which captures the entire saga perfectly, i think max fans see lando an inferior, lesser than. granted, lando doesn't have as many wins, doesn't have a wdc yet, but i'm talking 'he must always stay beneath max because that's where he belongs'. it very much boggled me when people started liking lando all over again when the contention (that wasn't even contention since mclaren weren't aiming for it in the first place; lando just so happened to be that good that he was crawling his way up and suddenly the were fighting not only for the wcc, but half-heartedly for the wdc too) was over in las vegas.

this is why i do not take any max fan seriously. i watched them batter this man to pieces in every post they made, wish death upon a man that didn't even do shit, just for them to do a whole 360 and claim they 'like him again'.

saying that he bottled the championship, which is genuinely the most deranged, degenerate thing i've heard because to bottle something, you actually have to be in the advantageous position (read: p fucking 1). which he never was. so this definitely told me that a) people were very much not smart enough to know the meaning off the word 'bottle', and b) they were all just leeching of what each other had said and posting it because they have no competent bone in their body to be independent.

ruined him so bad just for it all to be over something so stupid, for all of his antis to hop off the hate train only because he's not challenging max; it's like they forget the fundamental of this sport, which is competition. max is not always going to dominate, seeing as how many strong prospects are now coming to the grid (and are also having their time to shine after being in the dark for so long). and they need to find some other way to manage that frustration because it's irritating to watch them take lando's words out of context just villainise him.

now, could you argue that all of is this due to the fact that lando had been in a midfield car for so long, that now he has a competing car for basically the first season, people are outraged that someone with no winning experience placed so high? maybe. very much all ifs and buts, but i'm leaning more towards the idea that they just can't believe someone who doesn't act like your sterotypical 'wdc' can contend, or even win it.

proof is in the pudding (twitter, tumblr, instagram). they will yield lando's mental health, the fact that he's so self-critical, the fact that he practised sportsmanship and gave oscar the sprint win, to call him unready, soft, 'mentally weak' to quote some. but then they'll switch up when lando's finally confident about his performance calling him stuck up and egotistic.

max fans are the biggest cowards when it comes to accepting that their fave is, in fact, not untouchable, not the weird god they make him out to be. so they find the need to result to lying about lando to deal with it, and since everyone just acquiescents to it all, other drivers' fans that aren't even affected but just need to hate someone, end up joining the bandwagon as well.

and i fear the same will happen to franco. i've always had it nipping at the back of my mind, because everyone loves him right now. yes, he's in a shit car, and there's nothing he can do about that, but the second he'll starting showing up and properly competing, the fabrications people will hold against this man are inevitable. so many fans do not realise that because you're in a shit car, does not mean you're a shit driver, and that that your results are very limited depending on how inert the car is. hence, they're clouded by that image they've already got about the driver. when franco gets into a team with a better car, they'll still see him as the underdog and think he's unworthy how high he'll place (like we all know he will).

[alittlefrenchtree]

ALFT Cultural Rewind 2022

For the first time this year, I tried to write down everything I've consumed in terms of movies, books and TV Shows during 2022. I live having these lists and I've decided to share in case you're looking for some random recommendations. Feel free to ask for more opinions, thoughts on anything if you want 😊

purple is for things I liked 💜

Movies I’ve watched in 2022

1) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - David Fincher

2) Flickan som lekte med elden — Daniel Alfredson

3) Amadeus - Milos Forman

4) En attendant Bojangles — Régis Roinsard

5) Licorice Pizza — Paul Thomas Anderson

6) Lynx — Laurent Geslin, Laurence Buchman

7) The Chef (Boiling Point) — Philip Baranti ; James Cummings

8) Her — Spike Jonze (Rewatch, one of my favorite movie ever)

9) Arthur Rambo — Laurent Cantet

10) White Snake — Amp Wong : Zhao Ji

11) Death on the Nile — Kenneth Branagh

12) Enquête sur un Scandale d’État - Thierry de Peretti

13) Goliath — Frederic Tellier

14) The Batman — Matt Reeves

15) Notre Dame Brûle — Jean-Jaques Annaud

16) En Corps — Cédric Klapish

17) Les Bad Guys — Pierre Peril

18) À la folie — Audrey Estrougo

19) Fantastic Beasts : The Secrets of Dumbledore — David Yates

20) Downton Abbey : A new era — Simon Curtis

21) Sentinelle Sud — Mathieu Gerault

22) Elvis — Baz Luhrmann

23) Tenor — Claude Zidi Jr.

24) Tron — Steven Lisberg

25) La nuit du 12 — Dominik Moll

26) Sundown— Michel Franco

27) Nope — Jordan Peele

28) Three Thousand Years of Longing — George Miller (my favorite movie of the year)

29) Tout le monde aime Jeanne - Céline Devaux

30) La page blanche — Murielle Magellan

31) Everything, everywhere, all at once — Dan Kwan, Daniel Scheinert

32) Lord of the ring 1 — Peter Jackson (rewatch)

33) Lord of the ring 2 — Peter Jackson (Rewatch, even if I had forgotten all about it)

34) Lord of the ring 3 — Peter Jackson (Rewatch, even if I had forgotten all about it)

35) Don’t Worry Darling — Olivia Wilde

36) Le visiteur du futur — François Descraques

37) Les secrets de mon père — Véra Belmont

38) Entergalactic — Fletcher Moules

39) Dragon Ball Super — Tetsurô Kodama

40) Maria Rêve — Lauriane Escaffre, Yvonnick Muller

41) Simone : Le Voyage du siècle — Olivier Dahan

42) My Policeman — Michael Grandage

43) Mascarade — Nicolas Bedos

44) Armageddon Time — James Gray

45) Bones and All — Luca Guadagnino

46) Close — Lukas Dhont

47) Les Bonnes Étoiles --(브로커 - Beurokeo) — Hirokazu Kore-Eda

Books I’ve read In 2022

1) The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest — Stieg Larsson (the rec is for the whole trilogy)

2) The art and soul of Dune — Tanya Lapointe

3) Un dernier tour de piste — Martin Fourcade

4) The Dark Half — Stephen King

5) Death note — Tsugumi Ōba & Takeshi Obata (Let’s pretend I’ve read all of them and not stop reading before reaching the end for an unknown reason)

6) Le Match de ma vie — Nicolas Mahut

7) Les liaisons dangereuses — Choderlos de Laclos (First re-read since high school. It’s a good things I don’t remember what my literature class sounded like because I think all the toxic/criminal behavior in this book were not called out enough by my teacher.)

8) Midnight Sun — Stephanie Meyer

9) Children of Dune — Frank Herbert

10) Blackwater : The Flood — Michael Mcdowell

11) Les Ravissantes — Romain Puertolas

12) The Royal Game — Stephan Zweig (Re-read, I love this short novel so much)

13) Le plongeur 

14) Le Diner de Babette 

— Karen Blixen

15) Onze Minutes — Paulo Coelho (Re-read, still interesting)

16) Desolation Road — Jerome Noires (Re-read as well, not sure why I felt the need to pick it again but ok book)

17) Double Fault — Lionel Shriver (Re-read as well, didn’t really like it the first time but it’s definitely more interesting/relevant to read when you care about tennis)

TV Shows I’ve (tried to) watch(ed) in 2022

-Mr Robot Season 1 ; Episode 1 to… 4 I think?

-Grey’s Anatomy ; Seasons 1 to 6 (Regular rewatch that stopped by itself at some point)

-Designated Survivor ; Season 1

-House MD ; Season 1, a few episodes (Failed my rewatch, will try again in 2023)

-The Undoing 1 season (✅ completed)

-Severance ; a few episodes ?

-Balthazar ; Season 4 (Only here for Tomer Sisley)

-Veronica Mars ; 4 seasons (✅ completed) (Rewatch except for the last season)

-Outlander ; Season 6

-Heartstopper ; Season 1

-Timeless ; 2 Seasons (✅ completed)

-Moon Night ; 1 Season (✅ completed)

-Quantico ; 1 Season

-Obi-Wan Kenobi ; 1 Season (✅ completed)

-Lost ; Season 1 and 2

-Mind Hunter ; Season 1 and 6 episodes of Season 2

-Shokugeki No Soma ; All 5 seasons (✅ completed) (4 AMAZING seasons. Last one should be forgotten)

-The Walking Dead ; 6 seasons (Rewatch of the first season to try to finish it soon. First time I had stopped around season 8 or 9 I think ?)

-Emily in Paris ; Season 3 (The last source of joy left in the world)

-10 pour 100 (Call my agent) ; 2 seasons and 5 episodes of season 3 (Current watch, very easy to binge watch)

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

        “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[uta-h3m-vcd-tbw]

Who Am I?

I have attempted to dialogue the events in my life at least 100 times beforehand but probably more but could never bring myself to be completely honest.  Call this a personal inventory if you will.  I consider myself a better writer than most however when it comes to writing about myself my brain goes blank.  I know what I want to say, it’s just how do you go about telling anyone....”I am a Heroin addict.”  

I have read a couple books about other addicts & have watched countless documentaries, movies, & shows about addiction.  Always paying close attention to how the writer unfolds his/her story trying to translate it to my own with little success.  I eventually came to the conclusion that so much has happened in the two decades of drug use that there is no way fathomable to include everything...at least not in your standard literary fashion.  

A few days ago I stumbled across a new series on Netflix about a girl that liked to blog on Tumblr & suddenly I felt I may have an outlet to format this timeline of events.  Make no mistake about this...everything I write from this moment on is 100% true whether you choose to believe it or not.  Hell looking back....I don’t believe it sometimes & constantly find myself asking God why am I still here & why have so many perished before/besides me?  What makes me so special?

Most stories I read/watch about addiction are pretty generic.  It typically starts with someone who was injured & prescribed pain killers only to get cut off from the doctor & led down the dark & endless path of Heroin addiction.  They tell stories about the terrible things they did to maintain their habit & of loved ones they hurt along the way.  While I did horrible things as well, hurt & lost too many loved ones to addiction...this story is unlike any of the rest.  This is a story of addiction...obviously...but also one of organized crime, corruption, murder, extortion, jail/institutions, & love but mostly death.  

Every addiction specialist or rehab I have been to always had the same fault....they try to find some underlying reason as to why I started, “self medicating,” & attempt to address it.  I’ve had numerous heated arguments with councilors & doctors who insisted I was suppressing something deep down & may not even know it!  While I have heard of such instances to actually be the case I can very well tell you I am as normal as you are.  

I grew up in a child’s utopia in an upper-middle class suburb roughly 20 miles North of Detroit.  Think of the famous Tim Allen show, “Home Improvement.” Not only was I raised in Metro Detroit but I also come from a family of two parents, still married, & was the youngest of three boys.  I know most people’s perception of Detroit isn’t very high however in the 80′s & 90′s it was a great place to start a family.  Before the auto industry tanked most people skipped college to work on the assembly line at one of the, “Big Three,” (Ford, GM, or Chrysler) & lived comfortably.  My dad was a, “Safety Restraint Engineer,” for a subsidiary company with several patents still in use today!  We spent our days riding bikes through endless trails behind our house, building forts, playing back yard football, & camping in the backyard on warm summer nights.  My brothers & I were raised Catholic.  Went to Church every Sunday & Catechism on Thursday nights.  If I could change one thing about my childhood I wouldn’t.  It was that perfect!  My Father didn’t fail to raise a man...I failed to be the man he raised. 

When someone asks me why I started doing drugs I tell them because it was fun....simple as that.  I know it sounds cliche but it’s true, everyone was doing them.  My older brothers were way ahead of me, listening to Grateful Dead & dropping acid in middle school!  I just liked drugs a lot more than everyone else. My mother knew I had an addictive personality because I would take everything I did to the max & always looked for instant gratification.  I never wanted to wait/work for anything.  I think my brothers were aware of this as well because they would NEVER sell me pot in these early days.  They wouldn’t even talk to me about it.  So as far as being as normal as everyone else....maybe that one’s a stretch.  On the other hand I was years ahead of my classmates & understood how things worked much easier than the majority of my class.  

By the time I reached High School I was selling/smoking pot & hanging out with kids my age but it wasn’t long before I caught the attention of the older guys in the neighborhood.  I had already garnished a somewhat questionable reputation through my brothers by default & everyone knew my name from the paper route I had since I was roughly 12 years old.  At first they were intimidating & I hated whenever I had to deliver papers on one of their streets...praying they wouldn’t be outside playing basketball or something.  They always hung around the same two or three houses depending on who’s parents weren’t home that day.  If they saw me coming every one of them would stop what they were doing & aim their attention towards me.  All of them except one.  I knew his face & heard stories whispered about him in the hallways at school.  His name was Franco & he was not just the leader of their group...he was, “Head Fucking Hancho.”  You know the scene from mob movies where people from the neighborhood come to sit with the boss & ask him all kinds of favors in return for their loyalty?  That was Franco at age 15!  He had everyone’s respect....even that of my older brothers who looked up to nobody.  If you had a disagreement with Franco it didn’t go far.  I’ve seen him hit guys so hard they temporarily lost the ability to speak!  After a couple minutes of hazing from the guys he would shout from the porch telling them to leave me alone & they would scatter like roaches! 

These encounters would eventually lead up to my first drug deal.  Up until that point I had been stealing whatever I could from whichever brother wouldn’t notice at the time & smoking/selling it with & to my friends.  They eventually caught me & beat the living shit out of me.  I don’t think they were actually mad about the missing weed it was more about not stealing from your brother.  The same day I was caught stealing weed I planned on meeting several kids from school at a friends house & of course everyone was expecting me to bring the pot.  To this day I don’t know how I got the phone number or the guts to call it but I reached out to Franco’s best friend Mark.  I don’t really no why I chose him....any of the older guys could have found me weed.....but I knew Mark sold it regularly & to pretty much anyone.  There was no cell phones at this time so I had to call his house.  He wasn’t as angry as I expected & told me to wait 5 minutes before riding my bike towards his side of the neighborhood.  I did exactly as he instructed me to & before I could get to the end of my street he was pulling up in a dark green Ford Ranger...Frank was with him riding in the passenger seat.  Mark got out...threw my bike in the back of his truck telling me to hop in the backseat before getting back behind the wheel & pealing off.  The music was so loud I could barely understand the lyrics over the bass let alone what Frank & Mark were saying but it didn’t matter because they weren’t talking to me.  At the time I thought Mark must want to get out of the neighborhood before doing the deal but after getting to know him I learned...that was his, “thing”.  He loved to drive around, blaring music, & smoking weed with whoever was willing to tag along.  He hated driving alone & his truck was like his office.  Frank acted as if I wasn’t even there...holding a cool composure looking out the window while nodding his head to the music.  Eventually we pulled down a random street, where Mark turned down the music before pulling the truck over.  He turned around & asked me how much money I wanted to spend before opening a large grocery bag filled to the top with little, “dime bags,” or roughly a large gram of weed in each bag.  I don’t know if it was how he had them bagged up but it was more than I had ever seen in one place at the time & my brothers always had a lot.  I had a handful of crinkled five′s & one dollar bills I collected from my friends earlier in the day at school.  It came out to around $24.  I remember it was less than $25 because Mark insisted that an 8th cost $25 & that I was a dollar short.  I didn’t even know what an 8th was or how much it cost but didn't want to screw up my first deal so I pretended it was just an honest mistake & he threw three bags in my lap.  Franco asked where I was going & asked if I needed a ride which I humbly excepted.  

From that day on things changed little by little with every passing day.  I hung out less & less with the kids my age to be around Mark, Frank & the rest of the older guys.  They saw me as the kid who could sell a lot of weed since I already had that reputation from my classmates.  I saw them as a ticket to popularity.  In my mind it was an even trade.  My mother had an entirely different opinion.....constantly telling me I should be hanging around with my younger friends.  To me it was harmless....choosing to see it as normal for a kid my age.  I had no idea where this new found friendship would lead us.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  

As I was saying before....so much has happened since this day that I cannot even begin to piece it all together in a manner in which it flows conveniently into a timeline of events.  This is the beginning of my attempt & you will have to stick with me to learn more as I continue to publish.  I will warn you upfront that I will be changing some names, maybe even places or be vague as I am still getting death threats to this day & also don’t want to negatively impact any of the families that have already been ripped apart from unimaginable losses.  Lastly I am still weary about telling my story in it’s entirety.  I am sure those who are close to me will be able to figure out who I am since most of what I am going to tell you has never been a secret save one part.  I have never told ANYONE the FULL story other than my parents.  I feel it is the main reason I have struggled in all my attempts at telling/writing what actually happened.  Please understand that I take absolutely NO pride in the things I have done & only feel I need to document what I went through so maybe the next kid contemplating the path I chose....will rethink the decision.  I can tell you now their is no glory or honor in what we did & the end result was nothing but pain & suffering for our victims as well as ourselves.  I really hope nobody reads this the wrong way & that I am able to accurately portray the pain/anguish we caused so they realize how brainwashed we were & the impact you can have on others no matter how minor you think it is.  You have to stand up against what may seem to be the correct/hard decision at the time or even a harmless one that you know in your heart/gut is questionable & choose to do what you know to be right.  The definition of the word, “popular,” is; liked, admired, or enjoyed by many people or by a particular person or group.  The groups that are using/selling drugs are the minority & in the end you will find most are not truly your friend.  When I go on social media, looking back at all the kids I graduated with, I realize now that those who did well in school & actively participated were actually the, “cool kids.”  They are the ones posting pictures of new houses, nice cars & beautiful wives with blossoming families.  There is nothing cool about being alone & having nothing to show for the last two decades of your life but scars.  It is not romantic in any way shape or form.  You will not find comfort.  

Stay tuned for more to come! 

[at-hauntrcss]

100 IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS.

( I will be posting these in a series instead of all at once, cause there’s A Lot ) part 1 ( X )

PART 2: GROWING UP

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR CHILDHOOD IN GENERAL? traumatic. that’s putting it lightly. there are many instances, but three specifical examples come to mind. first: her father frank was often abusive, although rather than at his children, his agression was always aimed toward his wife maria. second: ate age six, helena was kidnapped by a rival crime family and held for ransom. within a week, the ransom was paid and she was back home with her family. not a single authority in gotham was called. third: bloody sunday, the event which impacted helena the most and lead to her relocation to the asaro farm in sicily. 

WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST MEMORY? her earliest memory is that of a toy dinosaur of her brother pino’s. it was a brontosaurus made of brown plastic, and she can remember her brother playing with it out in the grass. it’s a very blurred memory for her, as many are, but one of the few she clings to of her brother.

HOW MUCH SCHOOLING HAVE YOU HAD? helena not only attended primary school in gotham, but once she moved to sicily, she was homeschooled until the age of fiften. at the age of fifteen, she was once again relocated to a private boarding school in switzerland. this is where she first truly learned that her family was involved in the mafia, and what that meant. after boarding school, she returned to sicily and began taking courses at a university in palermo. she didn’t love it, but eventually graduated with a bachelor’s degree in education. this is also where she minored in criminology, and spent hours teaching herself all there was to know about the cosa ncstra. 

DID YOU ENJOY SCHOOL? she didn’t love it, at any point in her life, but it’s important to note that in her older years when she takes on the profession of being a teacher in gotham: it is quite literally what keeps her moving; she gives her all to those kids, and they keep her alive. 

WHERE DID YOU LEARN MOST OF YOUR SKILLS AND OTHER ABILITIES? the asaro farm. she learned a lot about living while she lived with the asaros — how cold a human could be, how violent. she’d seen violence many times before, of course, but never like that. thankfully she had her cousin sal, who I believe is the reason she has the humanity that she does have. the asaro farm is also where she learned her technical skills, given that the asaros were a generations-spanning family of assassins.  sal taught her most of what she knows now. 

WHILE GROWING UP, DID YOU HAVE ANY ROLE MODELS? IF SO, DESCRIBE THEM.  sal asaro, who is her personal hero — despite eventually being found guilty for eighteen counts of murder and imprisoned for it. also: justina bianchi, helena’s tutor before she went off to boarding school in switzerland. in many ways, justina was the mother she never had. think of her as miss honey to helena’s matilda. i do. 

WHILE GROWING UP, HOW DID YOU GET ALONG WITH THE OTHER MEMBERS OF YOUR FAMILY? when they were alive, helena detested her father franco based entirely on how he treated her mother. i’m sure there was some resentment there for how he handled her kidnapping, but she was too young to understand that. her mother was everything to her, up until the truth about bloody sunday came out. her brother pino, she often thinks of as a regret. they’d scarcely been given the chance to get to know one another, both so young. she wonders who he would be today.

AS A CHILD, WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP? the pope. you’re laughing, but i’m serious, it’s in the comics. “i’m going to be pope to make sure daddy goes to hell.” 

AS A CHILD, WHAT WERE YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES? playing in the yard with her brother. she was not often given a lot of freedom, even as a young child. even before the kidnapping, but especially not after. like most children, she enjoyed partaking in the jungle gym or on the swing set. favorite indoor activities included coloring, pretending to do ballet, and tumbling (early gymnastics) despite the fact that her father did not think that such an activity was proper for a young girl. 

AS A CHILD, WHAT KINDS OF PERSONALITY TRAITS DID YOU DISPLAY? stubborn, outspoken, but compliant. 

AS A CHILD, WERE YOU POPULAR? WHO WERE YOUR FRIENDS, AND WHAT WERE THEY LIKE? due to her family’s social standing, helena had a difficult time making friends. at school, often the only other kids who would speak to her were kids of other crime family members. parents talk, and their kids hear. back then, helena never understood why she was so unpopular.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Bon dia! There's no pressure to answer this - I may be erring greatly in asking, and it's certainly a complex topic - but I've wondered for a while if there is an interest in dividing the País Valencià into the traditionally Catalan and traditionally Castellan-speaking territories. I always imagined that the benefit, to Madrid, of keeping the Castellan regions under the Valencian region was to just dilute the Catalan identity and language… but also understand it could just be historical.

You asked an interesting question, since there are interests in dividing the País Valencia in every possible way haha. The languages in the Valencian Country are so connected to politics that it can often get messy.

First of all, the reason why there are Valencian(Catalan)-speaking areas and Spanish-speaking areas in the Valencian Country is because of the Christian conquest. Back in 711, the Muslim armies invaded most of the Iberian peninsula, including all of the Valencian Country (and way more at the north too, almost all of what would later become Catalonia).

[Map of the Iberian Peninsula in the 11th century.]

All the green part is the Muslim caliphate of Al-Andalus, the others in the North are the different areas that were not invaded and that were ruled by Christians. Since the North of the Iberian peninsula has a lot of mountains, these Christian kingdoms did not have a lot of connection to each other, so they developed different languages and started to develop different cultures too, as well as different institutions and power structures (kingdoms, counties, etc). This is where, when and why the modern Iberian peoples started forming.

The pink part in the North-East (corresponding to the North half of modern-day Catalonia) is the lands ruled by Catalan counts, where people spoke Catalan (well, old Catalan, but it’s not very different to modern Catalan). The purple ones next to them is Aragon, where people spoke Aragonese.

When Al-Andalus got weaker, the Christian kingdoms of the North were stronger and started invading back the lands in the south. With the conquest, a lot of people from the mountanous north were encouraged to move to more fertile lands in the south, and they brought their languages with them. This is why the languages of Iberia look like vertical stripes.

By the time of the conquest of Valencia (year 1238), the monarchy of the Kingdom of Aragon had merged with the Catalan counties. Most of the Valencian Country was repopulated by people who came from the Western part of Catalonia - that’s why the Valencian dialect is so close to the dialect of Western Catalonia. (Around the same time, the Balearic Islands were repopulated with people from Eastern Catalonia, that’s why modern Balearic accent sounds like an exaggeration of the Eastern Catalan accent.) The Western part of the Kingdom of Valencia was repopulated with Aragonese people, who also brought the Aragonese language with them.

Here’s a GIF that shows how the languages spoken from around the year 1000 until the present.

As you can see, over time, Castillian imposed itself over the languages that were most similar to it (Leonese and Aragonese) and who, unlike Castillian, didn’t have the strenght of political power backing them.

So, in the Valencian Country, nowadays we have:

The areas colored in gray are traditionally Valencian(Catalan)-speaking, and the areas in green are traditionally Spanish-speaking. I say traditionally because in many of the Valencian-speaking areas nowadays most people speak Spanish as a result of pressure and the persecutions in the near past.

It must be said, too, that the Spanish-speaking areas are very very rural and have a very small population compared to the others. But, still, in all the areas Spanish is greatly privileged in front of Valencian because of Spanish politics.

Now, to answer the first part of your question: YES, there is a strong interest by Spain to “dilute” the strenght of Valencian(Catalan) by having them grouped together with Spanish-speaking territories. This is the same reasoning that made the Spanish government take the Eastern part of Catalonia (what we call La Franja de Ponent, “The Eastern Strip”) and give it to be part of Aragon instead of Catalonia. It’s also what France did when creating its administrations that didn’t respect the natural areas inhabited by the different peoples, and made départments like Languedoc-Rousillon grouping Northern Catalonia with a part of Occitania (or, after the recent administration reform, keeping Northern Catalonia as part of Occitanie).

(And to get outside the Catalan Countries for a moment, this is also why many Leonese people want León to be its own autonomy in Spain instead of being part of the autonomy of “Castilla y León”.)

When an oppressed language (and people) have their own self-government, even if it doesn’t have that much power like Spain’s autonomies, it means that they can start making policies for themselves. The candidates can, and sooner or later even have to, talk about their particular issues and take decisions to address them. For example, now that Franco’s dictatorship is over and the Valencian/Catalan language is legal again, should schools teach in the local language instead of only Spanish? Should the signs posted by the administration of the Valencian autonomy be in Valencian as well or only in Spanish? Should the government workers (like doctors, etc) be required to understand Valencian? Etc. The fact that the Spanish-speaking areas are also part of the Valencian country means that most initatives to promote the use of Valencian (aimed at the traditionally Valencian-speaking areas) are labelled by conservatives as “imposing Valencian”. It restricts what we can do by a lot.

It’s even worse in the Eastern Strip, since the Catalan-speaking areas are a very small minority in comparison with the rest of Aragón (Spanish-speaking). Same with Northern Catalonia under Occitanie.

There isn’t, however, a great interest currently in changing the autonomy to divide the Spanish-speaking areas from the Valencian-speaking areas. The fight is for policies that protect the Valencian language to be able to exist in the Valencian-areas (while leaving the Spanish-speaking areas to still speak Spanish).

But Valencian independentists mostly think that, when the Catalan Countries become independent, it should be the Catalan-speaking areas, and that the Spanish-speaking areas of the Valencian Country would be better as part of Castilla since they have more in common. We wouldn’t want to “invade” them or force them to do anything they don’t want to, and we are not interested in any kind of “territorial expansion” towards them not towards anyone else.

tl;dr: yes, there is a historical reason for it being this way, but it’s also very benefitial to the status quo of the linguistic power structure held by the Spanish government.

The creation of the current autonomies (comunidades autónomas) of Spain were very “artificial” in many cases, and they could have changed that but chose not to. Same way that they had historical reasons to give León its own autonomy (the Kingdom of León used to be independent) but they decided not to.

I hope the explanation didn’t get too messy. Don’t hesitate to ask if you have more questions!

[scripttorture]

Torture in Fiction: Avatar the Last Airbender, The Boiling Rock

Avatar, the Last Airbender was an extremely popular cartoon series centred on a group of children trying to save their world.

It’s a world where some people can control and manipulate (‘bend’) the elements, water, earth, fire and air. The element a person controls depends on their heritage; whether they come from the Water Tribes, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation or from the Air Nomads. Only the Avatar can master all four elements and they are tasked with keeping the world in balance.

The story begins a hundred years after the Avatar disappeared. The Fire Nation massacred the Air Nomads. They’re raiding the Water Tribes and occupying much of the Earth Kingdom.

In this war-torn world two Water Tribe teenagers discover the Avatar, the last surviving Air Nomad, frozen in ice. He’s twelve.

With its wonderful art, powerful storytelling and compelling characters Avatar left a lasting impression on a generation of fans. It spawned comic books, a live action movie (by all accounts terrible but it’s the thought that counts) and a second set of cartoons following the next Avatar.

But I’m rating the depiction and use of torture, not the cartoon itself. I’m trying to take into account realism (regardless of fantasy or sci fi elements), presence of any apologist arguments, stereotypes and the narrative treatment of victims and torturers.

And I’m concentrating on a two part episode from season 3 that barely involves the titular Avatar at all.

It starts with two of the Avatar’s companions sneaking away to break into a Fire Nation prison.

Sokka, who is from the Water Tribe and can’t control an element, feels guilty about the fact his father and girlfriend (Suki) have both been captured. Zuko, ex-prince of the Fire Nation and a firebender, feels guilty for opposing the Avatar for so long and elects to help Sokka.

So they take a balloon to the most secure prison in the Fire Nation: the Boiling Rock. It’s housed on an island in the middle of a volcano, surrounded by a boiling lake. Their balloon crash lands and with no way off the island they decide to disguise themselves as guards. They then find that Sokka’s father isn’t in the prison and think their efforts might have been wasted until they see Suki.

They witness brutality from the guards, with a guard goading a prisoner, Chit Sang, into firebending and then locking him ‘the cooler’ a torturous cold cell. Sokka manages to contact Suki but Zuko’s identity is discovered by the other guards in the process and Zuko is taken prisoner.

In their defence, this is more or less how all their plans go.

Sokka plans to use the cooler to escape. Chit Sang overhears the plot and demands to be let ‘in’ on the plan. They need to unbolt the cooler from its moorings so they can use it to float across the lake. Zuko hides some tools and he and Sang stage a fight.

Zuko is thrown in the cooler and unbolts it from its moorings.

They meet with the cooler but Sokka has second thoughts, especially as a new group of prisoners, including Sokka’s father is due to arrive soon. Sokka, Suki and Zuko elect to stay and try to rescue Sokka’s father. Sang tries to escape with a few of his friends.

The attempt fails and the Warden has Sang tortured. The Warden claims that Sang isn’t ‘smart enough’ to have thought of using the cooler and he must have had help. Eventually Sang tells the Warden that a person disguised as a guard helped him.

The Warden has all the ‘new’ guards, including Sokka, line up to identify the traitor. Sang picks out the guard who goaded him a few days ago.

I’m giving it 9/10

The Good

Sang’s way of resisting, picking out a loyal guard as the ‘traitor’, is brilliant. And it’s realistic. I’ve recommended this strategy to writers because it’s what a lot of Algerian fighters did during the Franco-Algerian war. Seeing it in a cartoon series from a  decade before I began the blog brought a smile to my face.

The cooler is actually really similar to torturous punishments that were used in real prisons. In most places a hot cell seems to have been more common then a cold one but cramped cells kept at uncomfortable temperatures were regularly used to torture prisoners throughout the world.

Despite the existence of magic and different technologies the torture throughout this episode is all realistically low tech. We see guards threaten with fire and use it to intimidate but most of what they do seems to be beatings and torturous use of restraints.

There are suggestions throughout the story that torture and abuse are regular occurrences in the Boiling Rock. And the characters use that to cover up their actions. Sokka uses the ‘excuse’ that he wants to beat Zuko as a way to explain a guard hanging around a prisoner’s cell (and then uses a fake beating to pass Zuko details of their escape plan). Zuko uses procedure and the assumption guards should fear the prisoners as an excuse to keep his guard helmet on, covering his distinctive scar. The regular use of the cooler is what allows the group to unbolt it.

There’s no suggestion that the use of torture has made this prison safer for the guards, or made the prisoners more ‘cooperative’. If anything we see the opposite. There are regular fights. Sang can start a riot by shouting ‘RIOT’ to a crowd of prisoners. The prison is shown as dangerous and while the narrative never states this is because of torture it’s still avoiding a prominent apologist trope.

The guards, most prominently the Warden, seem to have very little information about what’s going on inside their prison. That’s consistent with the way torture effects investigation, cutting off sources of accurate information and destroying the ability to fact-check. The Warden doesn’t connect Suki to the escape attempt until she kidnaps him. Sang is only connected to it because he’s caught in the act. Zuko is only identified because he has a one in a million scar. Sokka spends days successfully masquerading as a guard and the only people who notice are prisoners.

Every incident of a guard threatening a prisoner seems to increase the prisoner’s resistance.

The torturers aren’t just positioned as ‘bad’, they’re shown as a mixture of incompetent and physically threatening which feels very true to life. The Warden is never positioned as some kind of action movie ‘badass’ or as a successful investigator. He’s a bully, pure and simple.

The Bad

I think on reflection these episodes do still underestimate the damage done by some tortures but they do this to a much smaller degree then most. The amount of time spent in the cooler is vaguely defined so it could be ‘safe’. But even short periods of time in freezing temperatures can be extremely dangerous. Sang is held upside down by guards, which can easily make victims pass out. Some of the physical effects are being glossed over here.

It’s difficult to say whether the series handles the impact on mental health well or not. Sang leaves the series shortly after these episodes and doesn’t have a speaking part again. Zuko appears to have lasting mental health problems, but they were present before and are narratively linked to his abusive family. The episode is also very close to the end of the series. There isn’t much space to look at the possible fall out of this one incident or for the characters to pause and consider what they’ve survived.

Miscellaneous

The cooler is the exception to the generally simplistic and low tech torture.  But the cooler is presented as something specifically designed to limit fire magic. It’s unusual within the world and it’s not overly complicated in use or design. In this case it’s something I’m willing to accept because it’s consistent with the rest of the Avatar world and it (arguably) isn’t designed specifically for torture.

Overall

I have a huge soft spot for Avatar. For me it was a show that struck a very good tonal balance. It goes to a lot of very dark places but it also makes space for humour, friendship and fun.

I didn’t really want to look back at it, I was worried that it wouldn’t stand up as well now.

And I was pleasantly surprised. This episode toys with a lot of unrealistic tropes and then veers off in another, better direction.

The result is a story that’s both surprisingly realistic and full of genuinely unexpected twists.

Yes there are flaws and yes there are things they gloss over that I’d rather they didn’t. But this is still a show aimed at children; I’m not sure I’d want to see realistic depictions of the physical injuries torture causes here and some of the common symptoms (suicidal ideation, self harm-) are also not things I consider suitable for 6 year olds.

And it’s just as important to consider what they do get right.

Torture doesn’t work here. Not to make Sang give up information and more broadly it doesn’t keep the prisoners ‘controlled’. We’re shown a prison where guards ‘rough up’ prisoners for fun and torture is a routine punishment. And that prison is anything but effective. There are fights every day. The guards seem to fear for their lives, both around the prisoners and (occasionally) each other. Sang can start a riot with little more then a shout.

And both of these factors, are important to the plot.

Sang’s refusal isn’t just a twist, it creates a distraction for the Warden and helps the group escape. The prison violence isn’t just a background detail; it lets Sokka create excuses to communicate with Zuko and Suki, creates distractions and gets Zuko in position for their first escape attempt.

Torture and abuse are integral to this plot. But the story isn’t about them grinding people down or ‘breaking’ them, it’s about the holes it creates in organisations and how people exploit them. It’s an interesting use of torture because in many ways it isn’t about victims or torturers. The focus is always on the escape plot.

Torture is used to show how incompetent the guards and the Warden are. It’s used to highlight the resistance of prisoners.

It’s used to create a scenario where Sokka can win. Because if the guards at the Boiling Rock didn’t torture Sokka’s plans wouldn’t work. Trust and rapport between prisoners and guards could have revealed the plot at any point. Without regular use of the cooler the first escape attempt wouldn’t have been possible. And without the background brutality of the prison as a distraction Sokka wouldn’t have been able to communicate effectively with the people he was trying to rescue.

I’ve reviewed quite a few different pieces of media at this point. Some of them handle torture well and some, not so well. But I think this is the first time I’ve seen a story that used torture more or less entirely to show the bad guys as incompetent.

Which is a really brilliant way for a program aimed at children to undermine torturers without dismissing the harm they do.

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[abstractanalogue]

The Wormholes interview (1997)

In June 1997 I interviewed Dave Carroll (1970-2019) of The Wormholes for a a one-off mail-order zine I produced for the band (cover above). I thought I’d transcribe the interview and publish it here as it hasn’t been online before. At this time they had released Scorpio:The Album (1997) so I asked Dave about recording it with Stano, other recent recordings with Stan Erraught (these would later be included on Parijuana in 1999), playing with The Fall in London (March ‘95) and their experience of touring in the UK (’95-’97). 

Q: Tell me about recording Scorpio:The Album.

A: We originally met Stano in town and went to Graham’s house that night with Shane and Francis (of Chunkin’ Bronchii). We didn’t know Stano or even really know him when he was leaving that day. He said nothing and just sat there at a four track. It was him who suggested to get us into a studio. He was good to work with, we’d record anything and everything we wanted and he wouldn’t say a word about it. He had maybe three or four mixes for each song. All the music was recorded in one day. The whole Pulse thing was two days and then the day we spent in Graham’s house. I mean I’m sure people will listen to it and go, ‘Yeah, I can gather it was done in 3 days.’ (laughs). It’s just the way we were heading, we knew we didn’t want to do another Chicks. Whether people like it or not, it is our second album. When you pick it up it may look like a mini album because there’s only so many songs, but when you think of it, ‘Kontinental Kop’ is 18 minutes long, ‘Bee Mee’ is 10 and ‘Freak Franco’ is almost 11 and that’s just three songs. We were surprised when we actually played ‘Kontinental Kop’ on the Play Station, it was like, wow, there’s a track on our CD almost 20 minutes long, I thought we’d knocked all that shit on the head. But then even on Parijuana, if that tape didn’t run out, I don’t know how long ‘Drive Dead Slow’ would have been. We were going at it full ahead from this sort of build up and Mark Carolan had to tell us the tape ran out.

Q: What about working with Stan Erraught (ex The Stars of Heaven and The Sewing Room)? These recordings with Stan at Sun Studios, plus other recordings would be used for Parijuana in 1999.

A:  When we heard Stan wanted to work with us we were blown away, we couldn’t get over it. This guy had done so much, I mean he was releasing records in the 80s. It must have been a really weird and difficult time to release anything, but this guy was doing it then when we were all still in school dreaming about what it would be like to own a guitar, let alone put out a poxy single. Same with Stano, he could have fobbed us off like, ‘Oh these little shits they think their doing something different, making a bit of a noise’ (laughs), but he just thought the way we done out stuff was right up his street.  

It was strange going into the same studio and the same desk as well but with totally different vibes. I hadn’t even talked to Stan or Mark (Carolan), I’d just walked in off the street and we did ‘Turkish Prison Dance’. We were just buzzin, the DAT was there, used just the one mic, Stan played the saz, Mark played guitar, Graham played drums, Anto just stood there and shook the maracas and I played the bongos. Everyone was jammed into this one room and we just banged it out there and then. None of us even realised when we were doing it, it was only after we thought, you know we didn’t play anything really, we just picked up some stuff and rattled it alongside what was being played and it was the first time we’d ever done that. When we heard it back none of us could even talk to each other, we were so chuffed with it. 

After that Mark finished putting up the mics and left. So we’d go in, start recording, Stan would be getting levels say and then he’d run in with his guitar and jump in with us, it was brilliant. We’d definitely work with him again. Stan just totally changed our whole outlook on what it’s like to work in the studio. He was giving us records by Faust and Can. I mean, these are records he’d bought 15, 16 years earlier when he was only a nipper. He told us a story about when he bought The Faust Tapes, it was on sale for 49p. He brought that particular record home when he was about 15 years old and he was eating his dinner with his Mum and Dad playing The Faust Tapes and them wondering what the hell he was listening to, they couldn’t get their head around this record that was chopped to bits.

Q: How has your experience of touring the UK been? First 1995 tour dates above (there was at least one that is not listed, Bristol’s Loco on 30th April with TW).

A: The first UK tour with Trumans Water was amazing, we only had to turn up and play, there was no pressure on us and any time we played with Cornershop it was the same deal. Even if there wasn’t many people we didn’t get so downhearted seeing as weren't the headline band.

On the second UK tour we tried to say to Roadrunner, it’s like this, putting us on a headliner is madness, try and get us on with not even a big band, just a band that 50 or 60 people will turn up to see. There were offers there to play with The Supreme Dicks but Roadrunner wouldn’t front us the money, they said it was pointless bringing us to London for 2 or 3 shows, but then they funded the British tour where we played to no-one for two weeks, apart from the Cornershop gigs. Cornershop were saying it was a bad time of year to tour as students were on holidays. 

We went to Hull and played with Trumans and it was amazing, the audience were animals, just wrecking the place. We go there two months later and its dead, drive into town and it’s a ghost-town. I’m not making that as an excuse because even if the town was all hustle and bustle we still would have only got about 20 people cause no-one knew us. 

At least when we went back the second time, even to have three new songs to bring back to England, we had ‘Marshmallow’, we had ‘Riotman’ and ‘Hotel Cash’. To us that was like bringing gold in your pocket, these aren't off Chicks, these are just new songs. 

The second 1995 UK tour dates.

Q: Tell me more about playing with The Fall in London.

A: In March 1995 we played a beautiful little gig (The Forum) supporting Mr. Mark E. Smith and The Fall on his request or so we were led to believe and we were honoured. That was like the icing on the cake for us and when they came to Dublin (Mean Fiddler) in December they asked for us again. I mean what can we say. We were all too chicken to speak to him. We all had this idea that he was the most arrogant, most unbelievably difficult person to even get two words out of and that’s what scared us off.  We were like we wanted to say hello and I wanted to tell him I though This Nation is one of the best records I’ve heard from any British band. That’s the sort of stuff I wanted to say to the guy but when I approached him I think I mumbled, ‘How-a-yi’ in my worst Dublin accent and scurried up the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t say something sarcastic. When I caught up with Anto and Graham I was hanging out of them saying I’d just met Jesus Christ, like I’d had tea with John Lennon or something. Mark E. Smith said hello to me was my claim to fame for the rest of the day. The gig was great. We were real nervous before. If there’s any band you need as role models it’s The Fall, keep their ethics.

Q: Talk about your UK dates with Scotland’s Pilotcan in Jan/Feb 1997. Pic from Scotland above, by Kieron Mellotte.

We played 6 gigs in 11 days. The better shows were in Edinburgh and London (Camden Falcon). We’ve never really been able to get it together in Scotland, the gigs we played there in ‘95 were bad, both tours. We played with Pilotcan, we knew them from the first tour when we slept on Keiron, from the bands, floor. He puts on gigs, we slept on the same floor as Jon Spencer. He was telling us that Deus had stayed in his flat before us and that they were mad. They were all real quiet, if they weren’t out drinking they’d just be sitting around or you’d find them reading a book. They all kept talking their own language and then laughing. Kieron and all his mates would  be sitting there freaked, up the wall, he’s got  a bunch of Belgians having their own private jokes in his flat (laughs).

Stuart from Mogwai got up at the Attic in Edinburgh and played a Smog track, ‘I Break Horses’. He did it amazing, just him and guitar, he did one or two Mogwai tracks as well, the best thing that happened that night. That was the Pilotcan single launch, it was a mad night. We were all on magic mushrooms and we were going back the next day. We fell asleep listening to the Modern Lovers, amazing album, like the Velvets.

Live review from Melody Maker for first UK tour

A: Any more thoughts?

We never thought in a million years that Cornershop would work with us or even Lo Recordings wanting to put our stuff out on compilations and that. It’s staggering to us, it mightn't mean a great deal to a lot of people but it’s what we always wanted to do. Our aim is to bombard the planet with as much stuff as we can.

A few more live adverts

Wormhole and a few other Irish bands played at the 1995 Phoenix festival (get your glasses out to find them all!)

I travelled to see them play at The Garage and then joined them on the road for the next show the following night at Bristol’s Loco supporting Trumans Water. We travelled back the same night to the comforts of The Florence aka Hotel Cash in London’s King Cross.

Stephen Rennicks

[xxelijahxxscottxx]

the truth is fear || para

WHO: @southsidefranco && @southsidegabe

WHEN: 13th April 2019

TRIGGERS: Drug use and mentions of drugs

NOTES: Franco finally gets caught in the act

WORD COUNT: 2561

Franco in Bold && Gabe in Italic

Franco had been using for a few weeks now. He'd been sleeping better but that was only because the drugs had made him sleep better. He'd been invited for a few drinks by a couple of the other Serpents and had realised, if he kept saying no, they might start to think something was off. It was half way through the night he excused himself, explaining he needed a smoke and heading for the door. He'd been pretty quiet all night, sure that it had something to do with the heroin he'd taken that morning. Once outside the bar, he looked around, checking no one had followed and headed down the side of the building, making his way round back where the bins were kept. He knelt down beside the large bin and reached into his pocket, with drawing his gear. He loaded the powder onto the spoon before heating it with his lighter and allowing it to liquefy and cool before drawing it up in the needle. He gotten pretty good at finding his veins without a tourniquet so, holding the needle in his mouth, he flexed his hands a few times, watching for the vein to appear and, once it did, he pushed the needle in, another puncture wound to join all the wounds littered over his body, waiting for the drug to spread through his body.

It’d been a typical night at the bar thus far. Nothing spectacular, nothing terrible, just another shift for Gabriel to get through before going home and plunking himself in front of Netflix. The Serpents were there, which meant a nice steady flow. Franco had shown up tonight, it was a pleasant enough surprise. He hadn’t seen much of him lately. Eventually Franco ducked out, not quite uncommon but as time passed at he didn’t come back, Gabriel began to worry. He quickly told his boss he’d be right back and slid out to look for the Serpent. He wasn’t out front so the next logical place was out back. He figured he’d check there before alerting anyone else. When he walked around back he sure as fuck found Franco, but the scene he saw before him was not expected. He barely took it the needle and supplies next to the man before his blood started boiling. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?!”

Franco had been so focused on the task at hand, he hadn't heard anyone coming down the alleyway until he heard them shout at him. He sank back against the wall, his eyes already starting to roll in his head as he removed the needle from his arm and clutched it in his hands. He looked over at Gabe, his eyes not focusing on him, his head rested against the wall. After a hit, he'd found he had to stay still for at least ten minutes. When he'd first started using, he'd just slept but after a week or so, he'd found he could choose to sleep or to gorge out and watch telly. He took a deep breath and laughed, "What am I doing? I don't think that's your business" he said from his spot on the wall.

Gabriel couldn’t believe his ears. Here was his friend, standing behind his work, injecting himself with literally God knows what, and he was being told it was none of his business? That pissed him right off. He could see Franco was unstable on his feet as he walked closer. The dude looked more out of it than he’d ever really seen anyone. “Give me one good Goddamned reason why I don’t go grab a few of your fellow Serpents, right now,” he challenged.

Franco watched as Gabe came near him and he quickly pocketed the needle, he didn't need it taken off him right now, he'd only just seen Aaron for more gear. He remained against the wall, his head moving from watching Gabe to staring back up at the sky. He'd crossed his arms across his chest and held his elbow, rubbing it gently, the sting of the needle still there. "Cause there'd be no point. No one would believe you, I've had these scars since I was kidnapped and they all know I haven't been feeling great recently" he explained, a small smirk on his face

Gabriel rolled his eyes. That was weak, even for Franco. He was soon within an arms reach of the other and grabbed Franco's arm, looking at the fresh track marks. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll believe these are from weeks ago. Nice try, Bud."

Franco glared at Gabe, pulling his arm away from him like he’d been burnt, “So, what you going to do huh?” He asked, his voice low and angry, “Go running in there, tell them you saw me shooting up in the alley? They won’t care Gabe and I’m not afraid of them”. His eyes were dark as he stared at Gabe, leaning against the wall for support.

"Give me one fucking good reason why I shouldn't, Franco," Gabe retorted, angrily. "If they really wouldn't care, you wouldn't be hiding it like a coward. You know what you're doing is stupid as fuck, or at least you should." Gabriel could feel his blood boiling further but he tried to push it down. He hated that his friend was pulling this crap.

Franco smirked and scoffed, rolling his eyes as he flexed his neck and rested his head against the wall, “You’d think if they cared they would have noticed by now. I’ve been doing it for weeks and it feels so good Gabe” he said, his lips curled into a large smirk as the drugs started working through his system, “What I’m doing may be stupid but picking a fight with me will just be worse for you”.

Gabriel couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "You think," he breathed out, "picking a fight with me somehow ends with you winning?" He had to reconfirm because frankly he couldn't believe his ears. "I'd think about your answer really well dude, before you answer, because as I recall you're pretty popular for picking fights you can't win." Gabriel didn't want to have to lay the guy out, but he would if he had to.

Franco nodded, “I think picking a fight with me isn’t a good idea” he confirmed, “I get you do that crazy martial arts crap but that means you have some sort of moral compass”. He kind of knew, in some fields, you weren’t allowed to abuse what you knew cause of Benji so he was winging it and hoping for the best, the last thing he needed right now was a smack to the face, he wasn’t feeling very steady, “But I mean, if you wanna go in and get back up, feel free”. That was the problem with drugs, they made him brave. Made him forget the scared man that he really was.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't his friend and he was getting quite irritated. He was pulling patience from places he didn't even know existed. "Look dude," he replied, still angry but more level. "You need to stop this shit, like right now, and I don't think you can. So yeah, I'm going to tell your Serpent pals but you're coming with me, whether you like it or not, because I don't trust you back here by yourself."

Franco shook his head, “I ain’t going anywhere unless it’s home” he spoke, turning his head away from Gabe and looking down the alley. He pushed himself from the wall and took a shaky step forward, why hadn’t he just waited until he was home to do this? He steadied himself, “I ain’t going back in that bar and I ain’t gunna stop”.

Gabriel reached out and took a firm grip on Franco's upper arm. "You really want to try me here, Franco?" He tested. He was not letting Franco leave here, especially not alone.

Franco twisted himself around, bringing himself face to face with Gabe and staring down at his grip, kind of glad for it as the spin had made him stumble, “Try what Gabe” he hissed, “You really think you’re gunna stop me leaving here”.

"You're gonna come in one way or another, dude," Gabriel replied, tired of this already. He pushed Franco back against the wall, probably a little more aggressively than needed, but he didn't care. "I can and will stop you from leaving here along, dude."

Franco stumbled back against the wall, his back hitting it hard, "What you going to do huh? Take me in there, tell them I'm doing heroin and let them kick the crap outta me? Serpents are family". He gulped, "Get off me Gabe, before I make you".

Gabriel took a second to answer. "You think I want them to beat the shit out of you, Franco?" He asked, bewildered. "Jesus Christ. No. I want you to stop and I think they should know about because they are your family." He ran his free hand through his hair, still holding his grip on Franco. "Also, you really can't make me do anything, especially not like this."

Franco laughed, "Some of them won't take to kindly to what I've been doing and they won't accept just telling me to stop". He sighed and nodded, "Have it your way" and he balled his fist, aiming it for the only accessible part of Gabe, his stomach.

Gabriel rolled his eyes the minute he saw Franco readying himself to throw a punch. He quickly grabbed Franco's hand with his free hand and sighed. "You're not going to win here," he quipped. "Don't bother trying."

Franco tried to pull his fist from Gabe's grip but the boy was too strong and the drugs were already working through his system, "Please" he said, "Please for the love of god, just let me walk away".

Gabriel released Franco. "Franco, no. You can't just walk away. I can't let you because if you keep at this you're gonna end up dead somewhere." Gabriel was seriously concerned about his friend and he was going to at least let one Serpent know before the night was up.

Franco steadied himself and sighed, "I don't want or need help Gabe. I'm numbing all the shit I've been through and weed and alcohol wasn't enough. Please, i've been doing this for weeks, just let it be".

Gabriel shook his head. "That's not convincing me in the slightest that I shouldn't be concerned here." He sighed again, trying to sound like he was going easier on the other. "Come inside with me, or I'm going and grabbing Charlie."

Franco's eyes widened when Gabe said Charlie's name. If Charlie found out, Darius woild too and this was not the news he needed his boss and leader to hear. He shook his head, "You can't tell Charlie" he breathed, stepping forward and gripping Gabe's shirt, loosely and more from fear then anything else, "Please you can't, she'll tell Dare".

Gabriel nodded. "I know, that's the point, really," he answered, pushing Franco's hand off his shirt. "You're walking back in there and telling someone of your choice, or, I get her."

Franco let his hands drop to his side and gulped, "I don't want to go back in there. I need to go home and sleep" he admitted, "Just, tell Charlie then, I don't even care" he lied but he knew he needed to go home, he couldn't face his family now.

“You can go talk to her, or anyone of your choosing really,” Gabe suggested as nicely as possible. “And then you can go sleep.”

Franco shook his head, "I ain't saying shit, I'm happy with only you knowing" and he shrugged his shoulders, "I gotta get out of here bro" and he turned heel to walk away

“You leave right now and I’m telling all of ‘em,” Gabe challenged, hoping that would be enough for Franco to turn around on his own.

Franco stopped in his tracks and sighed, "They'll all find out any way" he said, swallowing hard, "I'll be kicked out my family so go ahead, I'm not going to stop you".

Gabriel sighed and walked to close the gap between he and the other. “Franco. Look. You can’t deal with this alone, and I don’t think you’ll be kicked out. You just need to talk to someone before this gets even more out of hand.”

Franco turned around and shook his head, "I've been dealing with it just fine Gabe. Unless you had have caught me, you wouldn't even know what I was doing". He walked back over to the wall, needing to steady himself, his body tired as the drugs were taking effect, "Come on, do what you have too. I have to go home before I fall down sleeping here"

“Just come in with me, dude,” Gabriel urged. “Because for one, I don’t think you can get home alone right now.” He paused for a moment. “And if shit goes south, I’ll give you a ride wherever you need after my shift.”

Franco bit down on his lip, his heart was racing, his blood was pumping fast. Millions of things were rushing through his head. Dare finding out, Charlie finding out, Benji finding out... All the people the truth would hurt. He lent heavily against the wall, "Just, tell Charlie she knows where to find me OK? I got a lot of people who are going to need to hear it from me"

Gabriel raised a brow. “Do you mean here? Or are you still trying to convince me that I should let you go home alone in your state?”

Franco shook his head, "Look, I'll level with you. I have to go and find someone before any of this shit gets out. I don't need him hearing through the grapevine".

Gabriel sighed. “I still don’t want you leaving here alone. How many times do I have to say that for it to get through your thick skull?”

Franco sighed, "Gabe, I promise you, I'll be OK, but I have to tell Benji now, before any of you do. Please".

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. "Look, let me call you an Uber or whatever, so at least I know you'll get home." Gabriel wasn't normally one to give in but he knew he had to get back inside sooner rather than later.

Franco nodded, "Fine, call the god damn Uber" he knew he needed to go home and this was the only way Gabe was going to let him.

Gabriel pulled out his phone and ordered an Uber to the bar. "Text me when you get home, dude. Don't think I won't be coming around to check up on you."

Franco took a deep breath, "I'll text you OK. I just can't do this. No point trying to deny I'm out of my head". He started to walk again heading to the front of the club

Gabriel nodded and reluctantly let him go. He kicked a can out of his way as he headed back into the bar, already figuring out exactly what he was going to say when he texted Charlie about this, and ASAP. There was no way he was letting this simmer any longer.

[shtbgs-blog]

me: has 500 muses me: adds more

shush i am in a battle to have the most muses and just bc i have like 600 doesn’t mean i don’t want to play them a few of these are old old old muses I always have muse for and would love to start playing again.

under the read more you will find introductions for:

ambrose hartley ( bebe rexha ) colby blackstone ( sofia black-d’elia ) harley maddox ( miley cyrus ) brinley joseph ( chloe norgaard ) quinn james ( kehlani parrish ) daniel silver ( herman tommeraas ) lance nash ( justin bieber ) holden clover ( james franco ) & conor johnson ( nicholas hoult )

Do I hate myself? Yes I do.

AMBER ROSE “AMBROSE” HARTLEY looks an awful lot like BEBE REXHA. SHE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they're PLAYFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty ABSENT MINDED. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HURRICANE by HALSEY. 

Ambrose came from a really loving family tbh like, she had no problem with them at all in the slightest

her problem was she just couldn’t stay tame no matter how hard she tried, even when she was young she seemed to be full of energy and at the age of six they had adopted another little girl to be Amber’s best friend

For a long time they were the closest of friends, and there were times where Amber thought they’d be friends forever, but as they grew older she could see how different they really were, and how perfect she seemed to fit into Amber’s family

Better than Amber ever had, actually.

So at the age of eighteen she packed up her things and moved out.

She didn’t move far, at first, instead she decided to crash with one of her girlfriends but that honestly didn’t last long.

That was when she began to travel but no one ever seemed to match her wild and adventurous persona.

While she was gone she did do a lot of bad things you could say. One of those things being mixed up with a man who actually sold her for prostitution but you won’t ever catch her talking about that

During one of these wild adventures, though, someone made the joke that they thought her name was Ambrose because of how fast she speaks. Ever since then it just stuck. That was a few years ago ( 25 )

She just recently came back to Kola after deciding maybe it was time to go home and see her family and old friends. But who knows how long this will last.

COLBY BLACKSTONE looks an awful lot like SOFIA BLACK D’ELIA. SHE is TWENTY and while they’re LAID BACK, they have a tendency to get pretty IMPULSIVE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to FAST CAR by KHALID COVER.

papa was a rolling stone..... legit

her dad is a rock star and she’s one of hadley’s siblings

her mom is just as wild and firey as her father with a legit passion for music and maybe did a few songs with him but she was most known for kind of being a hot mess ( courtney love vibes )

which is why it’s so fucking weird that colby is the way she is like? she is just this soft spoken chill individual who likes to take photos

she’s been her parents photographer for events since she was sixteen but she’s been dying to get away from them 

so off to kola university it was, where she’s studying photography

she’s here to have a good time and she’s pretty chill

unless you get her stoned then she’s fucking wild

oh and when she’s drunk????

she’s basically a fucking rockstar just like her parents

HARLEM “HARLEY” MADDOX looks an awful lot like MILEY CYRUS. THEY are TWENTY FIVE and while they’re ACCEPTING, they have a tendency to get pretty OBNOXIOUS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to CURSE OF CURVES by CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR. 

Harley is here to steal your girl honestly they flirt with every single female they come into contact with it’s kind of overwhelming 

but they arent strictly into females they just feel more comfortable around them

They have always been masc / the dom in every single relationship they’ve been in, romantic or platonic. 

They just have always had that more dominant personality type which has lead to them getting into a great deal of fights

When they were seventeen they came out that they identify as agender and go by they/them pronouns but their parents just didn’t seem to get it???

it wasn’t super bad or anything it just lead it to be awkward in their house hold so Harley decided to leave at the age of eighteen after graduation

Ever since they’ve been living with their best friend ( wc ) 

They work in a liquor store where honestly they get to pick up on a lot of people and get invited to a lot of parties so they dig their life a lot tbh.

BRINLEY JOSEPH looks an awful lot like CHLOE NORGAARD. SHE is TWENTY-ONE and while they’re HELPFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty SKETCHY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to RAINBOW by KESHA

. oh my god this is my oldest muse I’m bringing in so far and I’m actually writing a book based off her life so there’s a strong ass chance this is gonna be long and I’m gonna have the absolute most muse for her because i know her so well

so basically when brin was 16 her father convinced her to start dealing drugs for her in school because it was like the easiest way for him to make money since so many people in LA, California were smoking pot esp in high school 

And her dad has always been like a brodude more than an actual father figure and like she agreed because hey she got to pocket some of the cash and she was able to live her best life right

wrong at seventeen she actually fell in love with someone while her father was gone for a full fucking month and he had the audacity to come back pissed off at her for pulling away from him / he also may be on the run from the cops bc he almost got busted but he was mad at her for the former

so he took her away from la and they began their travels on the road

she never even got to finish high school

Basically she lived in an RV with her father traveling from city to city selling drugs just to get by

Her father had a way with talking to people that made it easier for them to sell and what not but soon, her father’s connection ran dry

She was nineteen the first time one of her fathers friends cornered her in the small RV bedroom and no matter how loud she yelled, he never came.

He swore it’d never happen again.

Three months later it was an almost routine practice and Brinley realized she never meant anything to him

She was too scared to leave and still to this day hasnt

She’s currently living in Kola, California but she’s staying in a motel room

Her father was able to score some drugs when they got there so she’s currently selling but she’s scared when the drugs run out he’s going to turn back to the old routine.

Give me some new friends for her

give me some people who will show her she can leave her father and stay in kola forever

QUINN JAMES looks an awful lot like KEHLANI PARRISH. SHE is TWENTY-THREE and while they’re SELFLESS, they have a tendency to get pretty MESSY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to THE FEELING by JUSTIN BIEBER. 

Quinn is such a mess of a human being I swear to god

She would give her left foot to a stranger if they needed it which is wild because she thinks thats her best attribute

NO IM JOKING BUT SERIOUSLY THIS GIRL WOULD GIVE ANYONE HER WORLD and she’s so quick to fall in love with people it’s absolutely disgusting

but she’s just the kind of person who thinks too far ahead but she’s such a fucking optimist she feels like everything will work out and nothing could POSSIBLY EVER GO WRONG!

wow is she constantly wrong it’s a problem but listen you can’t get her down no matter how hard you try

she’s new so thats legit all i know about her

DANIEL SILVER looks an awful lot like HERMAN TOMMERAAS. HE is TWENTY-THREE and while they’re HELPFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty UNREALISTIC. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to I’LL SHOW YOU by JUSTIN BIEBER.

Oh my god this wild fucking animal right here was well, at first he was cosima silver’s nephew but now since i have them in the same group he’s her cousin and lives with her in the apartment above her little shop

This did not happen easily, oh no, he comes from a family of very strict parents who actually exiled Cosima’s family from their lives at a young age because they believed in her ‘gifts’ and they thought they were crazy

Daniel, though, thought the exact opposite. When they were young and before the split happened Cosima would talk to Daniel about her gifts and he would reel in them and he literally loved it so much

But when they were cast out of the family Daniel sort of realize just how horrible his family actually was??? and how different he was????

Sadly his dumb ass was honestly stuck there until a month ago where he finally packed up his shit and completely bailed on his family then moved in with Cosima and he’s been here ever since

He works in her shop as a tarot card reader or rather, he’s trying to learn how to do it. He has literally no gifts but he wants to help people and maybe start to learn from Cosima 

Personality wise he’s my big pansexual mess who is flirting and messing around with just about everyone every chance he gets and he just lives for making out and hooking up and having a good fucking time okay

LANCASTER “LANCE” NASH looks an awful lot like JUSTIN BIEBER. HE is TWENTY-SIX and while they’re RELIABLE, they have a tendency to get pretty IRRITABLE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HOLY GRAIL by JAY Z FEAT. JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE.

 lets start off with the fact that Lance is the oldest of SEVEN CHILDREN his mother being the common denominator 

Lance was the first born and her most prized son out of all the kids but as he got older, and she started having so many suitors, and started toying with various hard drugs he sort of lost that connection with her and was forced to grow up way too young.

When he was ten, he already had three siblings, each one of them born a year or two after the other and Lance was the only one who could really take care of them. Him and the second oldest were often left in charge of the kids but they didn’t want much to do with all the kids and Lance sort of understood that.

When he turned nineteen and the second oldest was eighteen they left town without so much as a letter which only forced Lance to become the actual father the whole family needed.

His life has always been about the kids. He now has siblings ranging from 3 to 25 and he usually keeps tabs on all of them. 

But ya boi has to make money some how, so, he’s dedicated any time he can get away from the youngest kids to doing what he does best and thats babysitting drug addicts or being a designated driver.

He personally does not do drugs but he knows what to do and how to take care of people when they’re tripping so he has become the druggie babysitter of Kola, California.

He’s honestly a really cool dude who is actually really fucking helpful all of the time

He just gets really god damn moody sometimes and wants to punch people in the throat but think about it his day starts at 6 AM with 2 children and 2 tweens, you’d be moody as hell too by 9 pm while driving some drunk asshole home

HOLDEN CLOVER looks an awful lot like JAMES FRANCO. HE is THIRTY-NINE and while they’re BALANCED, they have a tendency to get pretty FICKLE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to A WALK THROUGH HELL by SAY ANYTHING. 

his gif doesn’t match my aesthetic at all or his aesthetic but IDGAF BECAUSE IM ALIVE FOR IT

ANYWAY Holden is a cop:tm: he’s been idolizing them his entire life and now he’s just a good guy cop who sometimes lets people off with a warning and is that ‘cool cop’ around town like

all the kids love him, even criminals like him he’s just really charismatic and seems really chill????

ugh i have literally virtually no information for him other than he was divorced and it’s gonna be one of the many wcs i write up and submit but if someone wants an ex husband who gets too focused on his job all the time hmu for sure

he also has a younger brother who may or may no t better be dave franco

CONOR "CJ" JOHNSON looks an awful lot like NICHOLAS HOULT. HE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they're COMPASSIONATE, they have a tendency to get pretty RECLUSE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to IDK LOVE by JEREMY ZUCKER.

ok he’s not a zombie in his main verse but like if u think for ( 1 ) second im not turning him into a zombie for the zombie verse ur WRONG!!!!

but lets focus on mainverse cj and talk about zombie cj later

Conor has always been a nice and compassionate kid and honestly, he got married at 23 to the love of his life

But after three beautiful years he lost his wife to a car accident and he hasnt been the same since

a lot of people in town look at him like this poor broken bird because ever since his wife died he hasn’t been able to be like a normal human being 

he doesn’t go out

he barely goes to work

he’s going to lose his house

he’s just in a deep deep deep depression and honestly it’s actively sad

but he’s still nice and charming and flirty at times but it’s very rare

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 2

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2228

Part Two: Long into the Night

        The bass swelled and the drums cracked imitating well-known pop-rock songs that sent the patrons into a lather. Antha wasn’t the only one that finally felt it: the night was officially popping-off as it were and when she followed Tessa’s lead people stared.

        As if caught in a fever-dream, the mirrored image of them simply blew one young man’s mind. Way past his limit, he asked one of the twins “Are you real?” Zoey stepped in, pulling her friends around them acting as a barrier. With the added security in numbers, Antha started to relax, even have a little fun; also, knowing that Doug was on his way helped. The song led into another fan favorite and then another; they rolled with the rhythm, working up a sweat that no air conditioner could soothe.

        Something caught Antha’s eye. It was Franco, watching them, flipping the top of his lighter. A chill ran up her spine. She figured now was the best time to break the news to Tessa.

        “Hey, we’re going home after this,” she yelled into her twin’s ear, “one more round and then home.”

        “What did I tell you? We’re going to have fun!” Tessa proclaimed like it was the only stance she had ever believed in.

        “I just have this feeling Tess, I don’t want to go to that bonfire.”

        “You don’t have to! You’re not my third wheel, just get on home then—I’m going out to get lucky!” Tessa shimmied to her Daft Punk reference as the band began to play Get Lucky. She hummed when she followed Antha’s eyes across the floor toward the booth, where Franco lounged. “How can you resist that tall glass of water?”

        “We’re not going. You can have him over for brunch tomorrow,” Antha turned into the spitting image of her mother on the spot, as if compromising with a child. Every so often she checked the door, wishing Doug would just appear to help wrangle her girlfriends. She was truly outnumbered.

        Tessa laughed incredulously, “Franco doesn’t do brunch.”

        “And he’s not doing this either.” Antha waved her hand between the two of them as if a package deal. Tessa stopped dancing, her brow cocked and arms crossed. Zoey piped in that she would go, as did one of her cronies. Tessa shifted her weight and tossed her hair with her unequivocal “I do what I want” look, then she led the girls off the floor toward the bathroom. Antha trailed behind them, hot on their heels.

        She stood outside her sister’s stall trying to be as reasonable as the cocktail coursing through her veins would allow. Tessa and the others finally came out with the flush of toilets reverberating into one long sustained note, suggesting a migraine to Antha. “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you went home.” Tessa began, her attitude getting away from her as she preened in the mirror. Zoey tried to mediate but fell silent when the twin stated her case.

        “Look, if José asked, if Treyvon, if Brian asked—I would go! We could have fun—I just don’t like Franco. He’s got that weird, slow drawl—he disappears then reappears—where does he go? Where? To bonfires on Slaughter Beach? This sounds like the plot of every slasher horror flick ever made!” Antha explained, exasperated.

        “This is just like ‘the Treyvon incident’ years ago, when he touched your hair—it’s like an endless tug of war with you Ant. You never let anything go!” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, tired of her sister.

        “Tessa. He didn’t touch my hair—he snuck up behind me, fisted my dreads and whispered some nonsense about reigns or riding—or some shit! You know damn well he’s never ridden a horse so I can only imagine what he meant!” Antha grew annoyed recapping history when all it did was make Tessa laugh as if that was one of those old fond memories. Zoey blushed and covered her mouth, feeling a bit mortified for them both.

        “Maybe, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.” Tessa shot back as she dabbed her neck with a damp towel. She began mumbling her usual rhetoric of Antha should ‘grow up and relax’, but a moment later she slouched against the counter.

        “If this is going to be a thing let’s just stay local—we can hit up the diner, you know like old times—summer is just starting, class is about to let out, we can head down to the beach another night.” Zoey rationalized.

        “Whoa…” Tessa sighed as if she wasn’t part of the conversation and held fast to the sink. She seemed woozy and held her head.

        “Who bought you drinks other than me?” Antha immediately took her sister up by the face and stared into her rapidly dilating pupils.

        “No, no, its not like that—he’s just got some good shit I haven’t had in a while.” She explained, completely detached.

        “Did you know about this?” Antha barked over her shoulder at Zoey and her friends; the girls hemmed and hawed like they were lined up for her firing squad. Of course, Franco had good shit, she thought. In the light of the bathroom Antha could tell she was the only mostly sober woman in the group. “We’re going home now.” She pulled Tessa and the rest from the bathroom, her head pounding from the music and cheap whiskey.

        When they got outside Franco was leaning on the back of his truck bed as if he were waiting to round up a herd of sheep. One of his friends, beer in hand, offered to help the girls up. Two climbed in, but Zoey hesitated, debating if she was more afraid of missing out or Antha. Antha put Tessa in her car and told her not to move; before she could hunt Franco down she found him lumbering toward her.

        “What is wrong with you? She’s as high as a kite!” She confronted him, attempting to keep her voice low.

        “Really?” He replied with mild surprise. “Well I got yer friends here—y’all still welcome to come down if you want.” He handed her the messenger bag and continued casually, his hands in his pockets as if he couldn’t fathom why she was upset. She threw her bag in the back and slammed the door—praying that Doug’s Buick would be squealing into the parking lot right about now.

        “You’re trouble, you know that? My sister doesn’t need a redneck like you hanging around—so do us a favor and disappear like you always do.” She threatened him as he dryly pulled a cigarette from his other ear and lit it. What else you got behind those ears?

        “Well, I see.” He bent to look in on Tessa who was fighting the urge to laugh or cry, she wasn’t sure in her current state. “I guess I’ll be hitting the road then.” He ironically saluted and turned to his truck. Antha watched as he threw up his tailgate and fired up the engine. His friend and the girls clucking like teenagers in the back.

        Antha sighed and swung herself into the driver’s seat of her sister’s car, realizing she didn’t have the keys in her pocket. When she turned to Tessa to get them, she found an empty seat. To her horror she looked up ahead to see the familiar white hot-pants climbing into the passenger side of Franco’s monster-sized truck. She jumped from the car, prepared to block the way and be crushed rather than watch him drive away with her.

        Before she could take one step closer her ears filled with the shrieking of brakes slamming behind her. She hadn’t had time to turn before flashes of color and angry feet whizzed by her body. Someone shouldered her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. The air filled with the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. The girls were suddenly screaming and jumping from the truck bed as Antha held herself, recoiled on the ground and terrified.

        “What the fuck?” Franco bellowed as José took a baseball bat to his side mirror and his crew slashed the back tires. “Who is this guy?” He yelled, completely blindsided, not truly wanting the answer. The invading men knocked out the taillights as José threw open the door and yanked Franco from his seat.

        “Tessa!” Antha held herself, her shoulder throbbing. The men circled as Franco attempted to defend his case.

        “Dude, I don’t know you—are you her boyfriend? Look, I don’t know what the—” He tried to set a standard for the situation before it escalated further. When José’s fist met Franco’s mouth Antha turned from the riot, too afraid to look. The sound of knuckles crashing against teeth was enough visual for her.

        “Tessa!” She called again as she pulled herself up to get her sister. Tessa was called by the men too as if insisting she bear witness to their fury.

        The passenger door groaned open and all that could be seen was a blur of white as Tessa hopped out and bolted from the parking lot and into the corn fields. With a surge of adrenaline Antha found her feet rushing as fast as they could after her sister. The shoddy bar and its watered-down drinks fell away from her like dead weight as the fear set in that her sister was running into the great unknown without her full faculties.

        The broken corn stalks and uneven ground was all she could follow—the only evidence to lead her to her fleeing sibling. The men brawling sounded distant like a dream from another time; everything, the whole night, was forgotten as Antha called for her lost other-half. She took a sharp left, listening, unable to trust her eyes as everything seemed to be moving. The corn stalks swatted back viciously in their disturbance. The further in she ran the more they grew, reaching to the sky, disorienting her and stinging her arms and face—but not like the terror in her chest, her lungs burned with her efforts. She didn’t know how long she had been running.

        Then there was silence.

        Antha stopped for a moment, unsure where to go, the stalks holding fast like bodyguards, reminding her she didn’t belong there. You’re lost, she swore someone whispered to her. She turned to find no one. “TESSA?” She called. Complete silence. All of her hackles raised as the realization set in that she might end up on the six o’clock news and not be around to watch it. The breeze could barely pass through the crop. “Tessa?” She cried as she desperately looked for those white cut-offs that encased her precious sister.

        She slowly moved forward as the thought occurred to her that they might not be alone. Momma, please I’ll never do anything wrong again! Please help me find her—I swear I didn’t mean to lose her—I swear to you and to God I’ll donate more to the church, I’ll never say the f-word again! I swear— Antha’s internal prayer was cut off as the ground suddenly left her, or rather she left it. After spewing the words she swore she’d never say again, she found herself in a rut. She looked above her head to see the corn stalks leering down at her, as she pulled herself from knotted roots and mud.

        The ground had cut away and she could barely see in the dark the massive crater-sized drop. She looked about with nothing but a freckling of stars and clouded moonlight to her aid. She searched for a way up, but could find none. “Tess—” She began but her voice died in her throat as something moved a few feet off from where she stood. She approached carefully—it could be Tessa, it could be a rabbit, or the Boogey Man—perhaps all of the above. Even the Boogey Man wouldn’t be out in this Delaware heat, she thought to herself, her internal monologue attempting to keep her panic at bay.

        She continued further and swore she saw light through the foliage and dank terrain. Antha followed the specks of light, frightened of what she might find, but too scared to stay in place. She prepared her fists but lost her gumption as a whimper sounded. She thought it was herself at first, but then realized the brush was shuddering and crying. Cautiously she pulled back a branch and found the iconic hot-pants, dirtied and shivering. “Tessa!” She excitedly whispered and threw her arms around her sister.

        “Ant, is that you? I’m so lost—where are we?” She sniffed, dazed and confused.

        “I’m here! I’m here!” She kept whispering and pushing her braids back, inspecting her face and limbs. Tessa’s expression was alien; whatever she had taken was in full affect now. She vomited in the shrubbery next to her. When she was done emptying her stomach, Tessa turned to her sister petrified and pointed. Before Antha could turn she heard a smooth voice cut through the dark.

        “You seem to be lost.” The metal click of a shot gun being cocked and readied trumped all of the twin’s senses—that was until the cool tip of the barrel met the base of Antha’s skull.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn​ @plastic-heart​

Bottom image Credit: https://images.app.goo.gl/Tq153Yhn2DsyBq296

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior Home and Drive-In Edition July 24, 2020: THE RENTAL, MOST WANTED, YES GOD YES, AMULET, RETALIATION and more

Are we all having fun yet? Does the fun ever truly begin when you’re in the middle of a pandemic, and no one can seem to figure out how to get out of it? While I love New York’s Governor Cuomo and the amazing job he did getting us through the worst of it, he just doesn’t seem to know how to get movie theaters reopened, nor does he seem to care. I mean, they’ve had four months now to figure this out and New York City is already in Phase 4 (which was supposed to be the last phase of the reopening).  It’s a real shame, because this has been a ridiculously hot summer and with none of the “cooling centers” from past summers being possible, it is brutal out there. Fortunately, there are a few decent movies this week to watch at home and some in the drive-ins that are popping up all over the country.

I gotta say that I’m particularly bummed that my favorite local theater, the Metrograph, won’t be opening any time soon, but starting Friday, they’ll be starting “Metrograph Live Screenings,” which will consist of the type of amazing programming the theater has gained a reputation for since opening four years ago. They are offering new “digital memberships” at $5 a month or $50 annually (about half the price of a normal membership) so that you can watch any of the movies being offered at home. The program begins on Friday with Claire Denis’ 2004 film, L’Intrus, which Metrograph Pictures picked up for release. That’s followed on Monday with St. Claire Bourne’s doc, Paul Robeson: Here I Stand.  You can see the full list of screening times and dates (many with filmmaker introductions) on the Official Site, and this will be a good time for those who can’t get downtown to the coolest area in New York City to check out the Metrograph programming until they reopen. (Apparently, they’re working on a drive-in to open sometime in August. Wish I had a car.)

If nothing else, it’s safe to say that IFC is killing it this summer. The indie distributor stepped right up to the pandemic and said, “Hey, we’ll play in those drive-in theaters that have mostly been ignored and didn’t play our films for decades!” It has led to at least two big hits in the past few months.

This week, IFC releases the horror/thriller THE RENTAL (IFC Films), the directorial debut by Dave Franco.  In it, brothers Charlie (Dan Stevens) and Josh (Jeremy Allen White) decide to take a weekend away with their significant others, Charlie’s wife Michelle (Allison Brie) and Josh’s girlfriend Mina (Sheila Vand), who also happens to be Charlie’s creative work partner. They have found a remote house to rent, but they’re immediately suspicious of the caretaker (Toby Huss), who they think may be spying on them. He’s also racist towards Mina’s Arab lineage.

The premise seems fairly simple and actually quite high concept, and there have been quite a few thrillers that played with the premise of a creepy landlord/caretaker, including last year’s The Intruder, directed by Deon Taylor, and a lesser known thriller called The Resident, starring Hillary Swank and Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Part of what makes The Rental different is that Franco co-wrote it with Joe Swanberg, so you know it’s going to be more of a character-based thriller than some kind of gorefest. Sure enough, this deals with the competitive nature between the brothers and the jealousy that arises when you have such a close working relationship with your brother’s girlfriend. It’s what happens between these two couples over the course of this vacation that makes you even more interested in their behavior after things start happening to them, but there’s a pretty major twist that happens just when you think you know where things may be going.

That’s all I really should say about the plot to avoid spoilers. Although the third act veers into the darker horror tropes we may have seen before, that’s also when it starts to get quite insane. Franco clearly shows he has the eye for the type of suspense and timing necessary for an effective thriller, and his cast, including wife Alison Brie, really deliver on all aspects of his script to deliver shocking moments that will keep you invested.

In some ways, The Rental might be the most obviously accessible movie of the weekend, and since it will be playing in drive-ins (and maybe a few still-open theaters?), it probably is worth seeing that way i.e. with others, although it will also be available via digital download, of course.

Another “Featured Flick” this week -- and I’m guessing this is one you won’t be reading about anywhere else --  is Daniel Roby’s MOST WANTED (Saban FIlms), a real-life crime-thriller starring Josh Hartnett as Globe and Mail journalist, Victor Malarek, who discovered that a French-Canadian junkie named Daniel Léger (Antoine-Olivier Pilon) had been sentenced to 100 years in a Thailand prison for drug trafficking in 1989.  As Daniel attempts to survive the violent conditions of the Thai jail, Victor tries to uncover the crooked practices by the Canadian federal police to get Daniel imprisoned for their own means.

This is one of two Saban Films releases that really surprised me, maybe because I’ve gotten so used to them releasing so much action and genre schlock meant mainly for VOD, usually starring fairly big-name action stars from the past, usually not doing their best work. Most Wanted is a far more serious crime-drama that tells an absolutely amazing story from North America’s famed war on drugs from the ‘80s. First, we meet Antoine-Olivier Pilon’s Daniel, a lowlife junkie who is trying to find a place to live and a job, something he finds when he gets into business with Jim Gaffigan’s Glenn Picker, a complete low-life in every sense of the word. It’s funny, because when Gaffigan’s character is introduced, you’re immediately reminded of the famous “Sister Christian” in PT Anderson’s Boogie Nights, and as we watch Picker completely humiliate and then betray Daniel, you realize that we might be seeing one of Gaffigan’s best performances to date.

What keeps Most Wanted interesting is that it tells the story on a number of concurrent storylines, ignoring the fact that one of the threads might be taking place years before the other. Through this method, we see how Daniel begins working with Glenn, while also seeing Victor’s investigation, as well as the sting operation being perpetrated by the Canadian feds, as represented by the always great Stephen McHattie. (McHattie’s appearance is also a telltale sign that this is indeed a Canadian production, as is the role played by author and filmmaker Don McKellar.)  I’ve always feltHarnett was a really underrated actor especially as he got into his 30s and started doing more mature roles, and while his reporter character may not always be the central focus of the story, his attempt to get his editor to respect his work is something far too familiar to far too many writers. One also can’t sleep on the fantastic performance by Antoine-Olivier Pilon, who really holds the film together by starting out as a scumbag almost as bad as Picker but through his troubles to survive in Thai jail, we start to become really invested in his story. (The only character who doesn’t get nearly as fulfilling a story arc is Amanda Crew as Victor’s wife Anna who gives birth just as he gets involved in this major story.)

I wasn’t at all familiar with Daniel Roby’s previous work but the way he broke this story down in a way that keeps it interesting, regardless of which story you’re following, makes Most Wanted as good or better than similar films by far more experienced and respected filmmakers. (For some reason, it made me think of both The Departed and Black Mass, both movies about Whitey Bulger, although Daniel’s story is obviously very different.)

Okay, let’s get into a trio of religious-tinged offerings…

Natalia Dyer from Stranger Things stars in YES, GOD, YES (Vertical Entertainment), the semi-autobiographical directorial debut by Obvious Child co-writer Karen Maine (expanded from an earlier short), which will open via virtual cinemas this Friday as well as at a few drive-ins, and then it will be available via VOD and digital download on Tuesday, July 28. The coming-of-age comedy debuted at last year’s SXSW Film Festival and won a Special Jury Prize for its ensemble cast. Dyer plays sixteen-year-old Alice, a good Midwestern Catholic teenager, who has a sexual awakening after a racy AOL chat. Wracked by guilt, Alice attends a religious retreat camp where the cute football player (Wolfgang Novogratz) catches her eye, but she constantly feels pressure to quell her masturbatory urges.

I’m not sure I really knew what to expect from Ms. Maine’s feature film debut as a director. I certainly didn’t expect to enjoy this movie as much as I did, nor did I think I would relate to Dyer’s character as much as I did --  I’ve never been a teen girl, nor have I ever been Catholic, and by the early ‘00s, I was probably closer to the age that Maine is now versus being a teenager discovering her sexuality. In fact, I probably was expecting something closer to the Mandy Moore comedy Saved!, which was definitely more about religion than one character’s sexual journey.

Either way, I went into Yes, God, Yes already realizing what a huge fan I am of coming-of-age stories, and while there were certainly that seemed familiar to other films, such as Alice’s inadvertent AIM with an online pervert early in the film. Even so, Maine did enough with the character of Alice to keep it feeling original with the humor being subdued while definitely more on the R-rated side of things. On top of that, Dyer was quite brilliant in the role, just a real break-through in a similar way as Kaitlyn Dever in Book Smart last year. (Granted, I’m so behind on Stranger Things, I don’t think I’ve even gotten to Dyer’s season.) The only other familiar face is Timothy Simons from Veep as the super-judgmental (and kinda pervy) priest who Alice has to turn to when confessing her sins. (A big part of the story involves a rumor started about Alice and a sex act she committed on a fellow student that keeps coming up.)

Yes, God, Yes proves to be quite a striking dramedy that I hope more people will check out. I worry that because this may have been covered out of last year’s SXSW, it might not get the new and updated attention it deserves. Certainly, I was pleasantly surprised with what Maine and Dyer did with a genre that still has a lot to tell us about growing up and discovering oneself. (You can find out where you can rent the movie digitally over on the Official Site.)

Another horror movie that premiered at this year’s Sundance is AMULET (Magnet), the directorial debut by British actor Romola Garai, who also wrote the screenplay. It stars Romanian actor Alec Secareanu as Tomaz, a former soldier who is offered a place to stay in a dilapidated house in London with a young woman named Magda (Carla Juri from Blade Runner 2049) and her ill and dying mother. As Tomaz starts to fall for Magda, he discovers there are sinister forces afoot in the house with Magda’s mother upstairs being at their core.

I was kind of interested in this one, not just because it being Garai’s first feature as a filmmaker but also just because Sundance has such a strong pedigree for midnight movies, probably culminating in the premiere of Ari Aster’s Hereditary there a few years back. It feels like ever since then, there are many movies trying to follow in that movie’s footsteps, and while this was a very different movie from the recent Relic, it had its own set of issues.

The main issue with Amulet is that it deliberately sets itself up with a confusing narrative where we see Tomaz in the present day and in the past concurrently, so it’s very likely you won’t know what you’re watching for a good 20 minutes or so. Once Tomaz gets to the house, escorted there by a nun played by Imelda Staunton (Vera Drake), the movie settles down into a grueling pace as the main two characters get to know each other and Tomaz explores the incongruities of the decaying house.

Honestly, I’m already pretty burnt out on the religious horror movies between The Lodge and the still-unreleased Saint Maud, and the first inclination we get of any of the true horror to come is when Tomaz discovers some sort of mutated bat-like creature in the toilet, and things get even more disturbing from there. Although I won’t go into too many details about what happens, the movie suffers from some of the same issues as Relic where it’s often too dark to tell exactly what is happening. As it goes along, things just get weirder and weirder right up until a “what the fuck” moment that could have come from the mind of David Lynch.

I don’t want to completely disregard Garai’s fine work as a filmmaker since she’s made a mostly compelling and original horror movie – I have a feeling some might love this -- but the grueling pace and confusing narrative turns don’t really do justice to what might have been a chilling offering otherwise.

Going by the title and the fact it’s being released by Saban Films, I presumed that Ludwig and Paul Shammasian’s RETALIATION (Saban Films/Lionsgate) was gonna be a violent and gritty crime revenge thriller, but nothing could be further from the truth. Adapted by Geoff Thompson from his 2008 short film “Romans 12:20,” it stars Orlando Bloom as Malcolm, a troubled ex-con doing demolition work while fighting against his demons when he spots someone in the pub from his past that caused a severe childhood trauma.

This is another movie that I really didn’t know what to expect, even as it began and we followed Bloom’s character over the course of a day, clearly a very troubled man who has been dealing with many personal demons. Make no mistake that this is a tough movie, and it’s not necessarily a violent genre movie, as much as it deals with some heavy HEAVY emotions in a very raw way.

Honestly, I could see Geoff Thompson’s screenplay easily being performed on stage, but the way the Shammasian Brothers have allowed Malcolm’s story to slowly build as we learn more and more about his past makes the film so compelling, but they also let their actors really shine with some of the stunning monologues with which they’re blessed. While this is clearly a fantastic and possibly career-best performance by Bloom, there are also good performances by Janet Montgomery, as the woman who loves Malcolm but just can’t handle his mood changes. Also good is Charlie Creed-Miles, as the young priest who tries to help Malcolm.

I can easily see this film not being for everybody, because some of the things the film deals with, including pedophile priests and the effects their actions have on the poor, young souls who put their faith in them, they’re just not things people necessarily may want to deal with. Make no mistake that Retaliation is an intense character drama that has a few pacing issues but ultimately hits the viewer right in the gut.

A movie I had been looking forward to quite some time is the Marie Currie biopic, RADIOACTIVE (Amazon Prime), directed by Marjane Satrapi (Persepolis) and starring the wondrous Rosamund Pike as the famed scientist who helped discover radiation. Based on Lauren Redniss’ book, this is the type of Working Title biopic that would normally premiere in the Fall at the Toronto Film Festival, and sure enough, this one did. The fact it wasn’t released last year makes one think maybe this didn’t fare as well as potential awards fodder as the filmmakers hoped. It’s also the type of movie that works too hard to cater to the feminist resurgence from recent years, which ultimately ends up being its undoing.

The problem with telling Marie Currie’s story is that there’s so much to tell and Redniss’ book as adapted by Jack Thorne just tries to fit too much into every moment as years pass in mere minutes. There’s so much of Marie’s life that just isn’t very interesting, but trying to include all of it just takes away from the scenes that do anything significant. Maybe it’s no surprise that Thorne also wrote The Aeronauts, Amazon’s 2019 ballooning biopic that failed to soar despite having Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones as its leads.

I’m a similarly huge Rosamund Pike fan, so I was looking forward to her shining in this role, but she does very little to make Marie Currie someone you might want to follow, as she’s so headstrong and stubborn. This is the most apparent when she meets Pierre Currie, as played by Sam Riley, and maybe you don’t blame her for being cynical, having had much of her work either discredited or stolen by men in the past. Shockingly, Pike’s performance seems all over the place, sometimes quite moving but other times being overly emotive. Almost 90 minutes into the movie, Anya Taylor-Joy turns up as Curie’s grown daughter, and it’s one of the film’s biggest infraction, wasting such great talent in such a nothing role.

While Radioactive could have been a decent vehicle for Ms. Satrapi to flex her muscles as a filmmaker, the movie spends so much time having Currie fighting against the male-dominated science field that it loses sight of why she was such an important figure in the first place. Radioactive just comes across as a generally bland and unimaginative by-the-books biopic.

Also on Digital and On Demand this Friday is Chris Foggin’s FISHERMAN’S FRIENDS (Samuel Goldwyn Films), another quaint British comedy based on a true story, much like the recent Military Wives. Rather than being about a group of singing women, this one is about a group of singing men! What a twist!

Daniel Mays plays Danny, a music biz exec from London who travels to the seaside town of Port Isaac, Cornwall with some of his record company coworkers. Once there, they discover a local group of singing local fisherman, known as “Fisherman’s Friends,” who Danny wants to sign to a label. He also wants to get closer to Tuppence Middleton’s single mother Alwyn, who, no surprise, is also the only pleasant-looking younger woman in the town.

Fisherman’s Friends isn’t bad, but if you’ve seen a lot of British movies from the last few decades, then you’ve already seen this movie, particularly the “fish out of water” humor of a guy from the big city trying to relate to the down-to-earth ways of folk in a fishing village. It’s the type of really forced humor that is perfectly pleasant but not particularly groundbreaking in this day and age with so many filmmakers trying to do cutting-edge work.

Instead, this goes for a very typical and cutesie formula where everything works out with very little real conflict even when it throws in a needless subplot about the local pub falling on hard times and selling to a rich man who has little regard for the ways o the town.  On top of that, and even if this wasn’t based on a true story, it’s very hard to believe anyone in the music industry or who buys records would be that interested in this group to make them worth signing a million-pound record deal. (Apparently, this really happened!)

I think it’s adorable that filmmakers are trying to turn character actor Daniel Mays (who you’ve seen in everything!) into a romantic lead, especially when you have James Purefoy right there! Instead, 56-year-old Purefoy is instead cast as Middleton’s father, while she’s put into a situation where she’s the love interest for a man that’s 23 years her elder. This kind of thing rarely bothers me as it does many younger female critics, but their romance is just ridiculous and unnecessary if not for the formula. As much as I enjoyed seeing Dave Johns from I, Daniel Blake as one of the singing fishermen, there really isn’t much for him to do in this.

If you like sea shanties and you are a woman over 60 (or have a mother that age) then Fisherman’s Friends is a cute butnever particularly hilarious British comedy that tries to be The Full Monty. But it never really tries to be anything more or less than the formula created by that movie 23 years ago, so it’s quickly forgotten after its saccharine finale.

Unfortunately, I just wasn’t able to get THE ROOM (Shudder/RLJE Films), the live action directing debut from Christin Volckman (Renaissance), but it’s now available on VOD, Digital HD, DVD AND Blu-Ray! It stars Olga Kurylenko and Kevin Janssens as a couple who leave the city to move into a an old house where they discover a secret hidden room that has the power to materialize anything they want, but this is a horror film, so what might seem like a fairy tale is likely to get dark. (I actually think I saw the trailer for this on Shudder, so I’ll probably check it out, and if it’s worth doing so, I’ll mention it in next week’s column.)

Yet another horror movie hitting On Demand this Friday is Pamela Moriarty’s A DEADLY LEGEND (Gravitas Ventures) that stars Corbin Bensen as a real estate developer who buys an old summer camp to build new homes unaware of the dark history of supernatural worship and human sacrifice. I’m gonna take the fifth on this one, which also stars Judd Hirsch and Lori Petty.

Available via Virtual Cinema through New York’s Film Forum and L.A.’s Laemmle is Gero von Boehm’s documentary, Helmut Newton: The Bad and the Beautiful (Kino Lorber), about the photographer who had a nearly five-decade career before dying in a car crash in 2006.

From Colombia to various Virtual Cinemas is Catalina Arroyave’s debut, Days of the Whale (Outsider Pictures) set in the city of Medellin, where it follows two young graffiti artists, Cristina and Simon, who tag places around where they live but coming from very different backgrounds, but they eventually bond while part of a revolutionary art collective.

Danny Pudi from Community and Emily C. Chang from The Vampire Diaries star in Sam Friedlander’s comedy Babysplitters (Gravitas Ventures) as one of two couples who have mixed emotions about having kids, so they decided to share one baby between them. Okay, then.

Netflix will also debut the rom-com sequel, The Kissing Booth 2, once again starring Joey King as Ellie, who is trying to juggle her long-distance romance with Jacob Erlodi’s Noah and her close friendship with Joel Courtney’s Lee.  I haven’t seen the first movie. Probably won’t watch this one.

Next week, more movies in a variety of theatrical and non-theatrical release!

If you’ve read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com, or tweet me on Twitter. I love hearing from my “readers,” whomever they may be.’

[notbemoved-blog]

Dorothy Day and her Catholic Workers Didn’t Skimp on the Works of Mercy or the Beatitudes

 When Pope Francis I appeared before a Joint Session of the U.S. Congress in September 2015 he mentioned four notable Americans who exemplify the American spirit. Among them—and the only woman—was Dorothy Day. [Abe Lincoln, MLK, and Thomas Merton also got the nod.] Of Day, he said: 

In these times when social concerns are so important, I cannot fail to mention the Servant of God Dorothy Day, who founded the Catholic Worker Movement. Her social activism, her passion for justice and for the cause of the oppressed, were inspired by the Gospel, her faith, and the example of the saints.

 It was thrilling to hear someone so noteworthy praise Dorothy Day in the same breath as these other “worthies” of American life. Until recently—with a new book and documentary about her—it was rare for the name of Dorothy Day to be mentioned at all.

Pope Francis approaching the podium to address a Joint Session of Congress in September 2015

I know this from my own experience. Since the publication of my book about the civil rights movement in 2013, I’ve had the opportunity to address many an audience and have generally provided the sponsors a summary of my “bio” which always mentions Dorothy Day (along with Dr. King and Mohandas Gandhi) as one of my inspirations. While the other two are well known, Dorothy Day’s name usually prompts blank stares or shoulder shrugs. It seems, though, that perhaps now Day’s time has come. Just as her great mission was taken up during the Great Depression, her “comeback” is happening during the Great Pandemic. There is such need and suffering among our own people today, it is good to have a Dorothy Day to look to for inspiration and hope that if we all pull together, we may just get out of this ditch. 

On that point, here is what Pope Francis, during that same speech to Congress, said about politics and its true intent. 

Each son or daughter of a given country has a mission, a personal and social responsibility. Your own responsibility as members of Congress is to enable this country, by your legislative activity, to grow as a nation. You are the face of its people, their representatives. You are called to defend and preserve the dignity of your fellow citizens in the tireless and demanding pursuit of the common good, for this is the chief aim of all politics. A political society endures when it seeks, as a vocation, to satisfy common needs by stimulating the growth of all its members, especially those in situations of greater vulnerability or risk. Legislative activity is always based on care for the people. To this you have been invited, called and convened by those who elected you.

Called to seek the “common good”—not just politicians, I might add, but all of us. May we all pull together, work together, as we seek to overcome what undoubtedly is one of the greatest challenges of our lifetimes. 

And now, Part III of my series on Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker. 

[Click here for Part I and Part II] 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Issues

Initially, The Catholic Worker was viewed as Catholicism’s answer to Communism. Commonweal’s first analysis of The Catholic Worker phenomenon was entitled: “A Catholic Paper vs. Communism.” The Catholic Worker, it said, was a journal established “to offset the polemics of Communism with a clear exposition of the principles of social justice enunciated in papal encyclicals; and to oppose Communism and atheism by fighting for social justice for the working man.” 

Indeed, Dorothy Day reveled in the comparison. She used to enjoy recounting the story of how Catholic Workers competed with Communists when selling newspapers on the street corner. When the Communist shouted, “Read The Daily Worker!” a Catholic Worker would retort, “Read The Catholic Worker daily!!” 

Under the headline “Specimens of Communist Propaganda,” The Catholic Worker would even debunk some of the more outlandish attacks on the Catholic Church by the Communist press. Its battle against Communism gave The Catholic Worker some degree of respectability in Catholic circles. But when the paper began to strike out at the established bourgeois practices of American Catholicism itself, its reviewers turned sour. 

One such attack was directed at the concurrence of Catholic institutions, schools, and hospitals in their policies of racial segregation, as practiced by American society as a whole at the time. “We Have Sinned Exceedingly” was the title of one editorial on the subject. 

Another issue on which The Catholic Worker and the Church hierarchy were on opposite sides was the Child Labor Amendment. The Catholic Worker favored the Amendment, which sought to end industry’s use and abuse of children in the workforce. The Church feared that any legislation concerning the lives of children might eventually lead to government interference in the parochial school system. 

Because of these and other contentious issues, many Catholics raised questions about how “Catholic” The Catholic Worker really was. The Diocese of New York’s Chancery Office received letters urging the Church to take some action against The Catholic Worker. The head of the Diocesan Office of Censor of Books wrote a letter to Day and later visited the CW offices. His only “action” was to ask that The Catholic Worker find a priest to act as an editorial advisor for the paper to “avoid criticism and … be of assistance to the future development of the work.” 

Day gladly accepted this suggestion and asked Father Joseph McSorley, the same priest who had told her not to ask the Church’s permission to publish, to serve as the paper’s advisor. Although she often differed with the hierarchy, Day always tried to obey their wishes. She once said, “If the Cardinal ordered me to stop publishing tomorrow, I would.” Of course, he never did.

 Labor

Throughout the thirties, The Catholic Worker kept its focus fixed on the poor and on labor issues. Although Peter Maurin was not interested in furthering Labor’s materialistic gains—“Strikes don’t strike me,” he would say—Day supported organized labor and often picketed with strikers. 

During these years, she reported on the Borden Milk Company’s dispute with its deliverymen and asked readers to boycott Borden products. She covered the organization of the Southern Tenant Farmers Union and the New York Seamen’s walkout. The Catholic Worker even provided food and shelter for the striking sailors. 

April 1936 edition of The Catholic Worker

Day even interviewed John Lewis, the first president of the Congress of Industrial Organizations; she was in favor of worker unionization.  She went to Detroit to help her readers understand the sit-down strike by the United Auto Workers, a CIO affiliate, and to Pittsburg and Johnstown where the CIO was trying to organize the workers of the Bethlehem Steel Corporation. 

Toward the end of the 1930s, after Labor had made some major strides, and with the increasing possibility of war in Europe, The Catholic Worker shifted its emphasis to another crucial issue—Peace.

Blessed are the Peacemakers

As early as October of 1933, The Catholic Worker made clear that it was a pacifist paper. It announced it would send delegates to the “United States Congress Against War” to represent “Catholic Pacifism.” Three years later, the Worker started an organization of Catholic conscientious objectors. Workers saw what was brewing in Europe and were determined to be ready “when the next war comes along.” The Catholic Worker’s pacifism was based on spiritual principles: 

As long as men trust to the use of force—only a superior, more savage and brutal force will overcome the enemy. We use his own weapons, and we make sure our own force is more savage than his . . . . Today the whole world has turned to the use of force . . . . If we do not emphasize the law of love, we betray our vocation.

The following years of the paper’s history showed just how much love American Catholics had for pacifism. The Spanish Civil War began in 1936, pitting Communist against Catholic. American Catholics revered Generalissimo Francisco Franco and considered his revolution against Communism to be a “holy war.” The Worker refused to take sides and blamed both Communists and Catholics alike for the outbreak of hostilities. 

“Catholics who look to Spain to think Fascism is a good thing because Spanish Fascists are fighting for the Church against Communist persecution,” the Worker observed, “should take another look at recent events in Germany to see just how much love the Catholic Church can expect.” 

Although many European Catholics agreed with The Catholic Worker’s sentiments, Americans were appalled by its position. Many accused the paper’s editors of being “Communists masquerading as Catholics”—a criticism that would often be leveled against The Catholic Worker in the years to come. 

The paper maintained its pacifist stance throughout World War II. It called for massive draft resistance and strikes by those who worked in the war-supporting industries. Pacifist priests wrote articles on the Catholic tradition of conscientious objection. The Worker even ran an alternative service camp in New Hampshire for Catholic conscientious objectors. 

The newspaper suffered dramatic losses as a result of its principled stand. In November 1939, the paper’s circulation had grown to about 130,000 monthly. During the next six years, subscriptions steadily declined, especially subscriptions by bishops who had accepted bundled shipments of the paper for sale in their churches. By the end of the war, the paper was reaching only an estimated 50,000 subscribers. 

Dorothy Day, Peace Activist

In the face of all manner of criticism, Dorothy Day held out: 

We are still pacifists. Our manifesto is the Sermon on the Mount, which means that we will try to be peacemakers. Speaking for many of our conscientious objectors, we will not participate in armed warfare or in making munitions, or by buying government bonds to prosecute the war, or in urging others to these efforts. 

The Catholic Worker was, of course, a “voice crying in the wilderness.” Men did not drop their weapoins or refuse to make munitions. The war continued to its horrifying conclusion—Hiroshima. In a column entitled “We Go On Record—” Day wrote bitterly of this historic tragedy: 

Mr. Truman was jubilant. President Truman. True man; what a strange name, come to think of it. We refer to Jesus Christ as true God and true man. Truman is a true man of his time in that he was jubilant. He was not a son of God, brother of Christ, brother of the Japanese, jubilating as he did. He went from table to table on the cruiser, which was bringing him home from the Big Three conference, telling the great news; “jubilant” the newspapers said. Jubilate Deo. We have killed 318,000 Japanese. 

That is, we hope we have killed them, the Associated Press, on page one, column one of the Herald Tribune, says. The effect is hoped for, not known. It is to be hoped they are vaporized, our Japanese brothers, scattered, men women and babies, to the four winds, over the seven seas. Perhaps we will breathe their dust into our nostrils, feel them in the fog of New York on our faces, feel them in the rain on the hills of Easton.

Day and her Workers sent a telegram to the President: “We beg you in the name of Christ crucified to do all in your power to cause this abomination of desolation, this new discovery to be buried forever. Far better to be destroyed ourselves than to destroy others with such fiendish and inhuman ingenuity.” 

Pleas for nuclear disarmament occupied many of The Catholic Worker’s pages in future years, but not before it dealt with a more personal tragedy—the death of Peter Maurin. 

Maurin’s Legacy

In April of 1944, Peter had a stroke that left him “unable to think,” as he put it. Although he remained with The Worker, his role in its operation decreased dramatically. His health, too, continued to fail until he was completely bed ridden, except for Sunday Mass, which he faithfully continued to attend. After much suffering, he died in March of 1949. 

Maurin had spent the last 15 years of his life building a dream. And what a reality it had become! As a result of The Catholic Worker, Maurin’s ideas had spread all across the country, as well as to Europe and Australia. Houses of Hospitality “for the immediate relief of those in need” opened in many major American cities. In Boston, St. Louis, and Washington, D.C.; in Cleveland, Los Angeles, and Chicago; in Detroit, Milwaukee, Buffalo, and Philadelphia houses were opened by enthusiasts who tried—each in his or her own way—to practice Peter’s “gentle personalism.” 

Many also started farming communes to prove that people could find work, food, and shelter on the land. The New York house bought a farm in 1935. It has maintained one ever since, first on Staten Island, then later at Easton, Pennsylvania, and Newburg, New York. Others, too, tried their hands at farming, though often unsuccessfully because of their lack of experience. Those who did succeed wrote glowingly of their experiences for the paper.

Maurin influenced an entire generation of American Catholics; his “green revolution,” as he called it, challenged the youth to delve more deeply into social questions and to experience the joys of Lady Poverty and of Christian Love for the least of Christ’s brethren. 

(To Be Continued)

[kenyatta]

In addition to supporting the revolution, Dank Memes takes aim at Western youth culture (the memes are in English, although Bertram-Lee hopes to soon translate them into Turkish). In “How other people are spending their summer vs me” some young white people are shown frolicking in what looks like a foam bath, while on the other side of the frame two soldiers wearing red balaclavas are holding machine guns in front of a wall that reads “Socialism will win.” Or “That outfit that boosts your self-esteem,” which shows a picture of a white woman wearing tight jeans, next to a picture of a female soldier carrying a rocket launcher.

The page’s most popular meme was posted on June 13, and received 243 responses. It features a photo of Jane Kaczmarek from Malcolm in Middlestanding with her hands on her hip, yelling. Superimposed are the words “Listen buddy if you’re not gonna recognise the reality that all slavery in society is based on the slavery of women then don’t even both coming home tonight!” Many of Dank Memes' most popular posts have to do with the radical feminism at the core of Öcalan’s philosophy.

“I make memes to promote a cause first,” Bertram-Lee wrote via email. “Besides, I don’t have that much of a life outside of politics/philosophy.”

Bertram-Lee joined the United Freedom Forces in May. The UFF — often referred to by its Turkish acronym, BOG — is a predominantly Turkish communist militia bolstered by Western and other international volunteers. It is the largest of the militias under the International Freedom Battalion umbrella according to the Carter Center, an NGO. The IFB contains nine factions of leftist groups within it ranging from anarchists, communists, and anti-fascists, to Turkish communist parties. It is inspired by the International Brigades of the Spanish Civil War, which were a paramilitary group of international leftists that fought the fascist Franco regime in the 1930s.

“I didn’t want to speak of things I hadn’t experienced,” Bertram-Lee said of their decision to leave their comrades in Athens to volunteer as a soldier in Rojava. They said their mother was shocked and stopped talking to Bertram-Lee when she heard about their plans. “I don’t think she knows how to react,” Bertram-Lee said.

The former philosophy student, who is around five-foot-three, has received training on an AK-47, Glock, M16 rifle, PKM machine gun and a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, they said. Luckily, their base has been relatively peaceful since skirmishes with Al Nusra three years ago, but when it comes to fighting, Bertram-Lee is straightforward. “I mean, we’re soldiers,” they wrote. “It’s good to get a form of military experience.”