#I think it might be my deep seeded desire to be more assertive and less anxious manifest to the extrem but that’s just my armchairing myself

[cloverkingsmith]

They Would Not Get Along

[albion-93]

RWBY Analysis: Who is the Main Antagonist of Volume 6?

Disclaimer: Contains intense RWBY theorising and speculation inspired by Volume 6 Chapter 9 that is subject to being made redundant should the rest of the Volume go along like nothing as follows in this post.

RWBY has an interesting history when it comes its villains and antagonists. From Volumes 1 to 3 we saw a succession of rogues who fit the bill, each nastier than the last, from the likes of Roman Torchwick to Adam Taurus, Cinder Fall, and finally Salem. When it came to these four especially, and their criminal cohorts, the terms villain and antagonist went hand in hand. And with good reason, they were in active or indirect opposition to our protagonists’ actions, and their intentions and deeds ranged from petty theft to Machiavellian manipulation, terrorism and mass murder. Roman was a solid rival and foe to Ruby Rose, while Cinder served her role as main villain and antagonist well in Volumes 1 to 3, with Salem’s overarching series antagonist role revealed as a cliffhanger.

With Volumes 4 and 5, there were certainly plenty of villains but the role of main antagonist became somewhat complicated. As Team RWBY split up, most of them faced their own antagonist to overcome in various stages. In Vol 4 Weiss had her abusive father, Jacques Schnee; Blake had the White Fang operatives in Menagerie; Yang’s was at first psychological - the trauma of losing her arm and regaining her resolve to fight - and the second came in the form of her estranged survivalist mother Raven Branwen. Lastly is Ruby, who is sadly the most lacking in this department. Apart from her battles against the Grimm alongside Jaune, Nora and Ren, nothing came close to Roman or a potential enmity with Cinder, alas.

Now that RWBY is back together, things have changed. Cinder is now a month behind everyone else and unable to confront anyone. Salem is moving her minions into place in Atlas but doesn’t pose a direct threat to the heroes, though we will probably see Hazel, Tyrian and Watts out in the open at some point. Emerald is experiencing a crisis of allegiance, while Mercury seems to have chosen his side. Finally, Adam Taurus is as yet unaccounted for with no White Fang support to be found. 

You could argue that we’ve had the threat of personal demons and some excellent opposing interplay within the group, such as Ruby dealing with Qrow’s alcoholism and despair, Weiss’s reluctance to return to Atlas, Blake and Yang keeping a lid on their issues, and everyone falling into despair and anger at learning of Salem’s immortality. As effective as these are, there hasn’t been a single villainous character directly or indirectly circumventing the heroes’ actions. Odd.

So, I ask again, who is the main antagonist of Volume 6?

My personal take might shock many if you.

Since the start of Volume 6, this character’s words, choices and unfortunate past mistakes has led to more problems for the heroes than anything caused by Adam, Cinder or Salem. He’s nominally on the side of good but has failed in upholding his mission and his stagnation and secrecy has become a source of fear, discord, disunity and despair, more so than any servant of Salem. I am referring to Professor Ozpin.

Now let me be absolutely clear about this: Ozpin is NOT a villain.

Ozpin does not crave death, destruction, domination or the suffering of humanity. In the past, he was a kind and wise mentor to Ruby at Beacon, and a fair leader. He is ultimately someone who wants to put an end to Salem’s evil and somehow lift the curse, maybe once he believed he would be the one to finally do it. But now, he he’s a liability to Team RWBY, the remains of Team JNPR and of course his most recent incarnation, Oscar Pine.

If he had elected to tell the heroes that the Lamp attracts Grimm before boarding the Argus Express, and most vitally trust them, they might have avoided separation and being stranded. His constant omission of the truth, while claiming that it was for the greater good, is the same mentality that contributed to the Fall of Beacon. The more his pessimism, bitterness and double standard thinking emerged, the more the group’s distrust grew, culminating in Oscar briefly regaining control and revealing the Jinn in the Lamp. He was even prepared to use force to stop Ruby from asking Jinn what he was hiding. Overcome with despair and shame, he retreated deep into Oscar’s mind. They were left there to endure the Brunswick Farms horrors because of him.

I don’t blame him for retreating as he did, especially given the secrets regarding Salem. But when they finally reached Argus and the truth was revealed to Team JNR, he didn’t even re-emerge to come to Oscar’s defence from Jaune’s anger, and let him take the brunt of it. Again, there was no malice on Ozpin’s part, but in not intervening he allowed the rift between Oscar and the others to widen. In an older post, I said that if I were Oscar I would have taken my chances with the cold weather and Grimm rather than stay with people mad at me for another man’s mistakes. That came true in Dead End. So how is it he went from this...

To this?

The thing that struck me in the recent episode Lost was the reveal that Oscar had seemingly been waiting for the group at the Cotta-Arc house sporting new,  princely clothes and having cooked dinner for everyone. I do not think for a moment that that’s the real Oscar who welcomed the gang back. Absolutely nothing about what we saw in the previous episode, being threatened, isolated and emotionally dumped on naturally leads into him being relaxed, willing to reaffirm his mission to help RWBY, accepting his fate, easily forgiving Jaune and cooking dinner for everyone. Why would he do any of this? 

Looking at his body language and choice of words, he seems too calm, confident and controlled to be Oscar. His new combat outfit lines up with the green motif shared in other past Ozma incarnations, even with the red flourishes and leather fittings. Also, take a read of this dialogue, and instead of Oscar pretend it’s Ozpin saying this to the group:

Many have said that this sounds an awful lot like someone with a terminal illness would say, and that this could be a sign of the Merge happeninng. But why is the story acting like Oscar is the one who will fade away, when Jinn showed the different approaches Ozma had to coexisting with his hosts? 

Personally, I think it’s Ozpin imitating Oscar. He seemed surprised when he found out the group were looking for him, so how could Oscar not know why they were looking for him? For Ozpin, it’s a perfect cover since the group still doesn’t trust him but are are happy to see the boy safe. Asserting his desire to help extends a proverbial peace offering, while keeping the nature of the possession ambiguious. Also, isn’t cooking dinner for someone (or indeed twelve people) a pretty good way of making amends? 

But hang on, how could Ozpin still be an antagonist if he’s promising to help the heroes and wants to bury the grudges between them? He’s not telling the truth and remaining entrenched in the same mindset that has weakened their efforts in the past. Also, if Oscar is being locked inside his own head and being used for deception this is certainly a moral breach.

I think Oscar would have succeeded in running away or done something much worse if Oz didn’t forcibly intervene. Such a move would be very in keeping with Ozpin’s pattern of actions; the idea of committing a little evil in the name of the greater good, i.e. to return Oscar safely  to the group he had to forcibly take over. Also, the omission of vital truths and maintaining an amiable facade in the belief that everyone is happier for not knowing the full story. There’s even escalating a dangerous solution whilst potentially alienating or endangering others and removing the option of choice, just like in Volume 3.

It would be a cruel twist of irony if Jaune’s angry rant at Oscar in the house actually became a self fulfilling prophecy; “How do we know it’s really him?! What if we’ve been talking to that liar this whole time?!” By denying Oscar’s individuality when he was at his most vulnerable, he sowed the seeds for Oz to return and deceive the heroes into thinking Oscar returned of his own free will.

Now, imagine if all this crazy theory-crafting proved correct and the truth came out, Ozpin would have to contend with the wrath of RWBY and JNR, for duplicity, manipulation and subduing another’s will. And yet, unless something changes within him or his soul and Oscar’s battle for survival, there is nothing anyone can do. A once good mentor turned antagonist, with no villainous intent or goal, who cannot be challenged, driven away, imprisoned or killed without hurting his innocent host. Now that is a terrifying foe...

Aside Note: If it IS Oscar talking and this is something that he has decided himself, we didn’t see the process of making that decision for himself and go through classic character development or spiritual guidance to reach that point and signal his newfound commitment to the mission. This isn’t just a plot hole, this is an easy fix, and completely antithetical to good storytelling. After eight episodes where there were no easy fixes in the plot, why is this suddenly allowed? Maybe a character short could retcon character growth into place, but I have serious doubts.

The one point I will give is the look shared between Ruby and Ozcar when she complimented his new attire. That seemed like a genuine Oscar moment and expression, and I could buy that he chose red to earn Ruby’s attention. But I’m still suspicious.

Thank you to all who’ve read this long analysis post. I’m sure the next episode has a very different idea from what I’m proposing, maybe a much less dark outcome, but this was a very interesting train of thought to indulge.

[psychic-refugee]

Author’s Commentary

This entry is to answer BriEva. Sorry I don’t reply to comments, AO3 counts my responses as comments and my non-clinical OCD does not like that at all. I want people to see my comment count and know that it’s JUST comments and not replies. So it’s a true count rather than bulked up. That’s just my neurosis. Normally I respond to reviews/comments for the next chapter, but there are a lot of points you’re making so I wanted to respond. I hope you're able to see this. lol

Jane’s hair.

I think “forcing” is kind of a strong word. Jane has never said she didn’t want her hair dyed. She does, she wants to fit in with her human peers. She was super excited to have her hair done. Remember, for the first three years at Auradon Prep, she has been the only fae student until Mal came. While some humans do have very light platinum blonde hair, we’re talking fae platinum blonde. I use the words “star lit” to convey that it’s kind of an ethereal colour. So while it could be considered human, it certainly isn’t common and would makes them stand out. What Jane resents or doesn’t want is the store bought dye.

So she’s stuck in a hard place. She wants to fit in, she wants to appear innocuous and human. And growing up and living with such anti-magic sentiment, particularly against the fae because of the Fae Wars, it’s not surprising that FGM and Jane would try to assimilate. But with fae hair being difficult to hide, she has to rely on what she can afford which causes undesirable results.

But the fact that while it looks bad they still do it, which I think conveys that it’s still better than the alternative: to appear “too fae.”

So the tension lies in what each thinks is appropriate. FGM doesn’t think it appropriate for Jane to accept such a lavish gift of Iliofáneia hair appointments, Jane doesn’t see it as a big deal.

Part of FGM’s reason might be because of guilt, but I think that FGM is professional enough that she wouldn’t show that kind of leniency. And to force kids to drastically change their hair at an expensive salon on the Crown’s dime seems like it’s not worth the fight.

We also have to remember that FGM is Jane’s mother, not Mal or Evie’s. I think she knows she has no real authority to dictate what their hair looks like unless it’s against school code and that’s only as headmistress. The spirit of the dress code is to stop students from looking ostentatious or outlandish. It stops students from dying their hair say purple or blue. BUT with Mal and Evie that’s their natural hair, and by the rules taken literally they are OK. The administration may define natural to specifically mean natural human colours or give a list that excludes specific colours for the next school year. I’ve seen it happen where the school code book wasn’t specific in some area, a student contested their dress choice (height of the heel of a shoe) and won because they technically were not breaking the dress code. BUT for the next year, the school revised the code to specify heel height and they couldn’t wear the same shoes anymore.

I think that’s common enough, where a parent has a set of rules and expectations for their own children, but for others’ children they do not try to assert that same kind of authority. Basically “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” There are some adults that think they’re everyone’s parent and can therefore give their opinion or orders at will, but FGM isn’t one of them. lol

I would like to think that FGM would allow Jane to have her natural hair if that’s what she really wanted. When raising children in an environment that could be potentially hostile to them if they are seen as outsiders, you try to have them fit in as best they can. Sometimes cultural assimilation is a matter of survival. So FGM having Jane dye her hair as a matter of course when she’s younger, I think is understandable. Does it suck? Yes. Sometimes you have to make that decision, stand firm and potentially face backlash or give in. Maybe if it were just FGM, she would have decided to keep her hair natural. But with a daughter, do you want to make that stand and have her also face that backlash? I think it’s a tough choice that parents go through.

Existence of the Curl & Dye

It does not exist in LOE. This is a creative decision, I just don’t think a modern salon like that would exist as is in an impoverish island. I do mention that brothels do have some hair care devices, such as flat irons, and I would assume hair dryers would be part of that (assuming these are part of the cast off technology the Mainland gives away). But it would really only pertain to brothels, for the most part I don’t see enough of a middle or higher class population on the isle to support an independent salon. And since brothels compete with each other, they wouldn’t want to share this space anyway. So all brothels have in house beauticians/they do it themselves to cater to their needs.

For the other non-brothel citizens, I see more of a do it yourself/family does it deal if they do it at all. Think pre-industrial revolution and a society that struggles with food shortages and no real medical care. Celebrations, if any, are few and far between. So the reasons to have done up hair are pretty rare. And in the rare instances, it would be family members who help groom each other.  

Mal’s Dad

Is not Hades nor is he Chernabog. Both of these characters are actual gods. In LOE, that’s just not a thing. While I get that the franchise wanted to utilize all the bad guys they have copy rights to, it implies that FGM is above godlike powerful and I don’t want her to be. I get that Hades is recognizable and little kids don’t care, but I do so none of the gods reside on the Isle of the Lost.

We are getting closer to finding out who Carlos’ dad is, but no spoilers for that.

Cruella’s sentencing

I will delve more into the exact nature of what happened to get Cruella on the Isle, no spoilers. I want to make the distinction of her “innocence” however. Do not think of Cruella as innocent, as if she did nothing wrong, she did; while it can’t be said she physically stole the puppies she did pay others to do so. That’s still a crime. Her erratic behavior while driving endangered the public, that’s still a crime. These crimes, however, are not in my opinion enough to get her onto the Isle. Even if she had physically taken the puppies and killed them, that would not have (in my opinion) warranted a full banishment to the Isle.

Cecil's exact role in her sentencing will be addressed, no spoilers. But I will say that he is not responsible for her mental state. I just don't see him being able to pull essentially poisoning her for a long period of time to do permanent brain damage.

Cruella having a fae line of clothing

No, that is not the reason she was sent away. I will get into more of King Adam and Cecil’s motivations for getting rid of Cruella, but it has nothing to do with aspirations or plans with her fashion line.

It’s a plausible idea and fun thought, but it’s not for LOE.

Cause of the Fae Wars

Yes, that is quite the question isn’t it? (<.< ) (>.>) tee hee hee. You are touching on a lot of good topics but I won’t say which ones, if any, pertain to this story, no spoilers.

The Isle Four when they hit 18

There will be significant events that happen when the Isle Four reach 18 but that will be revealed in time, no spoilers. Originally I wanted to have the Winter Recital happen in Ch. 11, but fleshing out Jane, Carlos and Mal's relationship, the Isle Four's relationship was longer than I originally thought it would be so I opted to cut it until the next chapter. We will see the effects of Carlos turning 18.

Jane having "fantasies" of Carlos

I honestly do not see Jane doing this. It's not to say women in general wouldn't (Audrey was clearly effected by making out with Ben), but Jane I see as rather innocent and grew up with stories of gallant knights and princes. So she dreams of meeting her “Prince” and getting married and kids. But she doesn’t really think of the path to get said kids, to her they are something that just happens. lol

Jane’s grudge

I wouldn’t akin her grievance with Mal with animated versions of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. The latter two are pretty straight forward villains. Jane I would hope is a little more complex. lol Yes, her desire for Carlos is part of the reason. But we see a more or less ostracized girl no friends just that desperately wanted her own Cinderella moment, but was refused by Mal. Mal does have magic and probably could have helped her, but self-preservation stayed her hand. Jane erroneously sees this as purposefully malicious. With no friends, she has no one to talk this through with; she has no one to give her a different perspective. That seed grows when she thinks of all the times Audrey warned Mal was bad. Audrey blaming Mal for her break up with Ben just cements the idea she was already nurturing. Jane also has this over romanticized version of Carlos in her head, which happens with people you’re infatuated with and convince yourself that you’re in love with them. She thinks he needs saving and that he was just this completely helpless victim in the Isle, but deep down is noble--that he's really just a Prince underneath it all.

Also, when you grow up thinking villains are on the Isle and everyone in Auradon is the hero, it’s hard to see your own behavior (especially when you think you’re “saving” someone) as problematic. Jane sees herself as the hero, just like her mother with Cinderella.

All topics that will be touched on in time, no spoilers:

If Ben finds love and gets over Mal Carlos’ family and money Audrey and Jane’s plans for the love spell Update on the Isle while the Isle Four are gone Mal’s possible allergy to iron

Please feel free to comment as much as you want. I hope I answered all your questions/topics.

[leftpress]

Jasper Bernes | July 10th 2019 | Commune

In the poems of Eisen-Martin, the violent truth of the racialized city, and an address to the forms of collective life that might survive it.

Heaven Is All Goodbyes Tongo Eisen-Martin City Lights | $15.95 | 136 pages

Tongo Eisen-Martin is the principal author, in conjunction with comrades in the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement, of a curriculum — “We Charge Genocide Again!” — that sets out to contextualize and organize against the extrajudicial police killing of black people. It situates extrajudicial murder in the broader historical and political context of “the maintenance of hegemonic power in the United States,” and defines it as a feature of US class structure, which in turn comprises interlocking modes of organized violence. One central claim of the text is that the ongoing practice of violence requires that extrajudicial murder seem not only justifiable but also logical, intrinsic to social function and reproduction. Disrupting that logic is one intervention a properly political poetry might make. Eisen-Martin’s collection Heaven Is All Goodbyes can serve as an example of what such poetry might look like.

Political poetry in this sense does not tell us how to vote or how to live, but instead makes us uncomfortably aware of the discrepancy between our desires and attachments — our investments and commitments — and the institutionalized avenues available for their satisfaction and realization. Such poetry may make us question whether voting, for example, is the best avenue through which to achieve substantive freedom. The contrasting term to “political poetry” here is not “mainstream” but “middle class” poetry, referring less to a class than an affective orientation toward the existing order. Such poetry resolves the apparent contradiction between quotidian pleasures and desires, on one hand, and the alienating, calculative logic of the unliving and unlivable, on the other, through the facile solidarities of interpersonal recognition, reinforcements of the common sense, and appeals to individual morality or sympathy. For all their crafted semblance of immediacy, middle-class lyrics typically present as universal normative experiences that reflect and reinforce the genocidal cultural logic Eisen-Martin’s curriculum outlines. Clichéd sentiments implicitly provide cover for quotidian violence, or personalize and depoliticize it, all the while evacuating everything messy and singular about subjectivity.

To my mind, this collection’s mode of political engagement reveals the ultimate intellectual and political bankruptcy of perennial debates surrounding the so-called “avant-garde.” As Fredric Jameson argued regarding the more fundamental “high”/“mass” culture binary, avant-garde and middle-class poetry are inseparably twin: they mutually reinforce forms of aesthetic production that correspond to historically specific moments in the development of capitalism. The issue is not that middle-class lyrics — often mischaracterized as “workshop poetry,” which in turn stands in for the shifting class, racial, and institutional dynamics surrounding poetry’s production — do not accord with readers’ experiences, but that their prestige forms too rarely offer a vision of desirable forms of life. The strength of Eisen-Martin’s work generally, and this collection in particular, is the glimpses it offers readers not only of the ways social life and organization exist, but the ways we might desire it otherwise.

Heaven Is All Goodbyes addresses itself to readers uncomfortable with poetry understood as a celebration of the paper-thin solidarities and small gestures of a shared morality, the celebration of survival that does not ask what makes life difficult. Yet, from its dedication — “Like 50 familiar postures in the dark . . . Run here. We will save your life” — its solution is not sloganeering through seemingly transparent expression. Neither the speaker nor addressee of the imperative “run here” is given; the collective “we” is hard-won rather than assumed as the outcome of readily obvious historical predicates and antagonisms. Forms of salvation are fraught and uncertain — the collection’s title itself is a caution against certain narratives or “familiar postures” of redemption. Read as a poem, which its presentation invites, it serves as an apt preparation for the strategies of the collection: assertive and advanced (not hindered) by implicit skepticism toward the given. Its discourse is terse but not obtuse, direct but withholding. Read as a private message it works in roughly similar ways.

From the first poem, “Faceless,” the collection blends flat assertion — “Warehouse jobs are for communists” — with an indirection and will to discrepancy that abuts surrealism: “But now more corridor and hallway have walked into our lives. Now the whistling is less playful and the barbed wire is overcrowded too.” The ironic reversal that has corridor and hallway walking, rather than walked through, initially appears playful. The next sentence undercuts play through metonymy insofar as “barbed wire” figures prison. Corridor and hallway apparently refer to passageways between defined spaces, indoors or outdoors, figuratively connecting the unthought spaces of incarceration and the nominally free. The next lines read:

My dear, if it is not a city, it is a prison. If it has a prison, it is a prison. Not a city

At the level of the nation or the planet, “overcrowding” usually activates a Malthusian argument promoting eugenics (I wanted to type “genocide”) as pseudo-feminist, anti-poverty measure. Alternatively, in the instance of prisons, it promotes an argument for constructing new carceral spaces and enhancing police budgets, which can only produce more “criminals” by broadening the category. Nowhere in the collection is the familiar notion that crime results from misfit “mentality.” Instead, the social situation does not fit the people; rather, the people fit the social situation. Here and throughout the collection, the prison is a defining feature of modern social space, so “barbed wire” is at least partially figurative. What keeps us captive? What would it mean to be free?

The latter question finds no answers in poetry, but rather in the change of society. Poetry can make the present situation thinkable, in part by giving names to common forms of experience that otherwise go unremarked. Heaven Is All Goodbyes does this by drawing attention to the alienated forms of sociality presently available, while maintaining a tough commitment to the sociality of speech and, beneath that, language. Recurrent references to cigarettes, labor, police, and prisons initially appear to be emblems of working-class solidarity, but those references operate alongside similarly prevalent references to unfinished or interrupted conversation and irregular irruptions of dialogue. Eisen-Martin blends prose and verse. Individual poems typically alternate staccato, clause-based lines, interpolated dialogue (untagged), and tight enjambed stanzas positioned near page margins. Altogether, they invoke the peculiar temporality of working-class life. Represented objects such as cigarettes alongside rhetorical tendencies to subordinate the sentence to the list, the litany, and other organizing forms of thought create little pockets for breath, little pockets of life within the suffocating texture of the unliving, moments best conceived as insolated seeds of time yearning for legibility as chronological progression, if not progress. Eschewing the singular voice or focalizing consciousness, the poetry instead features collectivities of different scales — the family, the neighborhood, the guild — drawing out the rhythmic feel of the attachments and common desires, not necessarily articulate, for alternative ways of living. Put differently, these poems limn a speculative architecture of what common life could be. The cumulative effect is moving, less sympathetic toward the dispossessed than in solidarity with them, with an aesthetic agenda at least as ambitious and deep as its political commitments.

As I read this collection, I found myself thinking about an early debate between W. E. B. Du Bois and Alain Locke about the possibility of a political black modernist art, a debate framed in terms of the relationship between art and propaganda. Du Bois famously declared that “all art is propaganda and ever must be”: that is, all cultural production under capitalism necessarily serves ruling interests, so black artists have an obligation to take the side of the oppressed. Locke rejoined that propaganda (or, in more contemporary terms, protest) “perpetuates the position of group inferiority even in crying out against it. For it leaves and speaks under the shadow of a dominant majority whom it harangues, cajoles, threatens or supplicates.” Both ultimately describe the conditions of art, and reveal the falseness of the binary between “political” and “middle class” poetry I described previously. However, if one is to avoid the poetry of pity, which provides an affective release for the oppressor, or of cheap solidarity, which can preclude historical and political understanding of domination, the question is how one is to take sides. The strength of Heaven Is All Goodbyes in this regard is that it manages to transcend empty sloganeering and refuse the seductions of easy pessimism, bombastic militancy, or unearned optimism. Its value is not its interpretation or representation of the world, though poetry inevitably represents, and representation is an interpretation of the world. Rather, it invites readers to examine their attachments; it helps generate new concepts and encourages aesthetic and political experimentation; and it invites readers to a world, this one, where we might live otherwise.

In its awareness of the character and texture of life shaped by the possibility and threat of spectacular black dying, Eisen-Martin seems to set himself to answering a question June Jordan posed: “What shall we do, we who did not die? What shall we do now? How shall we grieve, and cry out loud, and face down despair? Is there an honorable non-violent means towards mourning and remembering who and what we loved?” “All friendships have dead people in them,” Eisen-Martin writes, and mourning is part of what it is to live a life. It is right to focus on the ways the state and those who understand themselves to act on its behalf deploy different scales of violence. Focusing on only the most extreme and spectacular forms of violence takes attention from the forms of life and social reorganization that grow within and despite quotidian violence, tempting us to see conspiracy rather than the system’s intended functioning.

But violence is only part of the picture. The other part is collective investment in the cruel optimism of bourgeois society — that is, in the social forms and horizons of fulfillment that stand to destroy life as such. More than grieving the dead and the ideology that normalizes their killing, poetry should encourage disinvestment in the state of affairs that normalizes death and suffering. It should encourage broad reimagining of social arrangement, and address itself to the forms of collective life that may emerge. Heaven Is All Goodbyes does just that, and offers a glimpse of what poetry might follow the dissolution of the current order.

The post The Bourgeois and the Boulevard appeared first on Commune.

[Read More On LeftPress.org]

[gloriacumming43-blog]

Two Vegan Politicians Enter 2017 Congress Race

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[bffhreprise]

Entry 175

 “I’m really glad you agreed to participate in my charity auction, James.  We’re going to help so many children this way.  I actually had a hand in the new hospital’s design, though Lady Pendreigh used her sway over the Pendreigh Group to make a few alterations.  They were improvements in a way to be perfectly honest, but I don’t really care for Lady Pendreigh at all.  She’s so… stuffy.” I explained.

 “What sort of improvements?” he asked, finally taking the bait on a line of conversation.

 How deep did Lady Pendreigh have her hooks in him?  I wanted to save him from her.

 “For example, I had a grand entryway designed which I felt would lift people’s spirits as they entered.  Hospitals are so dreary.  I failed to consider how some of the sculptures would affect traffic flow, and Lady Pendreigh added a sterilization system to the fountain that will work with the ventilation to clean the air while spreading an airborne sanitizer.  For all her stuffiness, she really is brilliant.  The design was very elegant.” I admitted.

 If he was particularly invested in her, I couldn’t speak too negatively of her without putting him on guard.  I found myself wondering if ever I had wanted someone to join my cause so much before.

 “I can’t say I’ve actually seen any of her designs myself.  She’s always working, and I hate to bother her.” he replied.

 I shrugged and said, “Oh, I’m not surprised.  She had her fingers in countless pies throughout Europe, and her influence here is growing rapidly.  To be frank, I don’t feel spending time with her is safe.”

 I carefully watched him to gauge his reaction.  Hopefully, I hadn’t said too much.

 “She’s not so bad.” he argued.

 I resisted the urge to sigh and forced myself to laugh instead.  “If you believe that, you really don’t know her well.  What’s one good thing about her?’

 He paused to think for a moment before saying, “Well, her desire to see things done right will help that hospital.”

 Shaking my head I asserted “No-no.  You can’t turn her obsessive need for control into a good thing.  Can you think of any positive qualities she possesses?”

 I watched him struggling to come up with something.  A seed of doubt was successfully planted.  Hopefully, the seed would flourish.

 “Sorry, but your time’s up.  We’ve arrived.” I informed him.

 “How did you..?” he started to ask.

 “The smell, James.  This parking lot always smells fresher than most of the city.” I replied.

 I wasn’t even lying.  The change in smell was distinctive to this place, and I only looked to verify afterward.

 James stepped out of the limo and offered his hand to me, so I accepted it and followed after him.

 “Pardon my asking, but do you have partial vision?” he asked.

 He was more observant than I had thought.  I needed to be more careful.

 “Oh, no.  I’ve been completely blind since birth.” I explained.  No one could know that I overcame my condition through technology of my own design.  Not yet at least.

 He seemed to accept my admission at face value, casually taking me into the restaurant.  This part always baffled me.  We stepped across the threshold, and I found myself in an impossible room.  The inside was quite obviously larger than the outside and appeared to be constructed of smooth crystal of the highest clarity.  Rugged patches of crystal stretched beneath us, never reaching the forested ground far below.  The dimly lit forest was embraced between mountainous peaks to our right and a large moon off to the left.  The moon was quite obviously not our own, making this structure and its environs seem to be on another world.

 I changed the mode on my glasses to gather as much information as possible while we were here.  If I could unravel the technology causing this illusion, I would easily be able to implement it for all manner of uses.

 “How is it, James?  What is the room like?” I asked, wanting to hear his take on it.

 His voice was barely a whisper as he said, “The room is transparent, and we’re surrounded by a moonlit valley so beautiful that I lack words to describe it.”

 Yes, this view was incredible, but I felt he could do better at describing it.  Perhaps he wasn’t so observant after all.  Before I could pursue the matter, a girl yelled to him.

 “James!  How’s it going?” as a curly-haired brunette with bright blue eyes.

 She was shorter than me and quite pretty.  Her curls seemed far less disorderly than mine, probably due to thinner hair.  What was she to James if not an employee as her dress suggested?

 “Evanna, right?  I thought you were a driver.” he commented.

 She rolled her eyes and said, “I am, but Carl insisted I fill in for a moment between shifts.  Can’t argue with the boss.  if you follow me, your table is just over here.”  She showed us to a table before enthusiastically telling us “I’ll bring your food in just a sec!”

 I reached for his hand purposely missing and feeling along the table before clutching it.  “Details, James.” I told him.  “I feel like there is a soft breeze in here.”

 For just a moment, I thought he was put off by something, but then he said, “There is a great, crystal dome above us suspended by archways around the giant circle of a room.  Each archway appears to be completely open, allowing the night air to reach us.  The moon looks different to me somehow, as if it’s not our moon but that of another world.  It’s absolutely enormous and tinged with blue.  The forest beneath us is hard to make out, but it’s quite expansive, stretching into the distance.”

 I squeezed his hand encouragingly and asked him to continue.

 “I didn’t notice at first, but the crystal appears to be glowing faintly.  Even looking away from the moon toward the mountains, I can make out the outline of the floating structure by the dim glow.” he explained.  Then he paused for a moment, looking around before saying, “I… I have no idea where our server went from here.  She seems to have vanished entirely.”

 I knew he could be more observant.  There were numerous times I had tried figuring out how the servers seemed to slip away, but I never was able to follow them.  Something always pulled my attention away before they slipped out of the illusion.  Magic might well be involved in this place, but Camila never could detect any.  If there were spells in place, they were beyond her.  I would suspect the Slayers, but they weren’t allowed in here for some reason.  Perhaps the proprietor was a match for them.  Carl was an enigma.

 Smiling at James, I told him “I’m not surprised.  I’m guessing some of the patrons here aren’t even real.  I think this room utilizes some very advanced technology to create realistic screens on the walls.  Then there must be some sort of environmental control for the temperature and breeze.  You’d be amazed at some of the theories I’ve read.”

 He seemed to be considering my words as he looked around, missing Evanna’s approach from behind him.  I had heard her footsteps quite distinctly in this room.

 “Sorry.  I didn’t see you return.” stated James, having jumped when a bowl was set in front of him.

 Laughing, she assured him “I’m the one that should be apologizing.  I’m supposed to be making people feel comfortable.  Playing host really isn’t my thing.  Who wouldn’t get distracted in a room like this.”

 “Evanna, is it?  Do you happen to know how this illusion is created?” I asked.

 Laughing again, she said, “Sorry, but I’m not allowed to discuss any of the inner workings, even with a friend of James.  Please enjoy your meal.”

 She knew!?  I needed to put this restaurant under surveillance and have my men grab her from the parking lot the moment she got off.  She should have known better than to flirt with my date.

 A scent distracted me, and I exclaimed “Moqueca!” in delight.

 “Pardon?” asked James.

 “The dish, silly.  I had this when I was in Brazil a few months back.  You’re in for a treat if you’ve never tried it.” I assured him.

 The host left us, and I began my normal routine of “finding” everything’s location as my niñera had showed me when I was young.  I couldn’t leave James wondering again if I might not be blind.  Once finished, I quickly took a bite.  The taste was incredible, even better than I remembered.  The secrets of this restaurant’s recipes would be worth a fortune by themselves.

 “This is even better than I remembered.  How do you like yours?” I asked.

 “Oh.  It’s great!  I’ve never had anything quite like this, but the flavor really is wonderful.” he insisted.

 “I’m glad you think so too.  My chef can’t quite get the flavor right, so I told him to give up.  I’d fire him, but he really does quite well on most things.” she explained.

 James seemed to earnestly enjoy meal.  Though he ate slowly, savoring each bite, a smile continually came to his lips.  I enjoyed watching him far more than I would have thought possible and found myself wishing to keep him around constantly.  Perhaps one day.