#Killing us again with Schumann

[spenglernot]

THEY EDIT FINE THINGS WELL: OFMD KISS AND KNIVES SCENES (S1 E9 & S2 E3) COMPARISON

Marveling at the OFMD editors who did so much more than just reuse Schumann’s Kinderszenen, Op. 15: VII. And Erik Satie’s Gnossiennes No. 5 from the season 1, episode 9 kiss scene in the season 2, episode 3 knife pulling scene.

Unedited audio from both episodes plays simultaneously in this comparison video. Take a look and a listen at what happens, with Gnossiennes No. 5 from 0:15 to 0:52. The music is playing twice, but you only hear it once because it matches perfectly. The way the verbalizations and dialogue work together are the kill-me-now gut punch taste-of-orange frosting on the best cake ever.

It's beautiful.

[ravhjarta]

Act I

by Dimitri Kaufman

Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. — Macbeth – Act 3: Scene 2

I loathe them: Fled the bloody scene debauchery ensued in this disgrace I know the madness I live in madness I am not joking and this is no confession; I fight all the laws of thermodynamics nightly nightly and every night Is a long night and at the concert (plump Nelsons was conducting) Gubaidulina’s Fairytale then Shostakovich’s 9th (and I could do without the Dvořák) so I was thinking that These bags under my eyes aren’t stout they’re weary shattered as you know I’m a scholar of insomnia a rabbi of it (it isn’t a battle it’s a massacre) so in that voice it told me We have sinned only trust the God that is the God within Instead why I, immanentize the eschaton It’s them, I know it’s them, they’re here the veil is thin at present moment blame coronal mass Ejections Schumann resonance noösphere the cycle of the Earth aligned gravitational waves from the center of the galaxy and gravitation, generally (it was Wheeler who said that there is no ‘out there’ out there) and so without these drugs it kills it executes hell for leather incessantly drawing commutative diagrams and verbal Analogies to combinatorially posit amalgamate and entanglement into a clause to satisfy both and none enough to make a Buddhist blush and when I saw them at the food stores I stared at them at first before I killed them such contempt of everything I stand for everything that’s good and true innocent bystanders it’s important to me that they’re impeccable, random strangers or else how would I proceed what a farce though I said ‘Wow’ after the second movement because I always do so I tell them: No, they’re not from outer-space, they’ve always been here it’s only that you now see them and if you thought our trouble’s vast think and think again it dwarfs to what we must endure the worst ourselves daemons spirits aliens call them what you may and all the rest of it, the Dead and what we said about them the dark painting of the owl in our house when I was young Don’t get me wrong the others, too are there but mostly it’s just us me you you know haunting reminding that we went too far we’ve gone too far this time we really made a mess of it no burning bush no decalogue respite repent the lights are there Forgive.

[thequeenofthenightgentlyweeps]

Aria Is On Fire ( Part 2 of 2 )

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PART 1

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***

Unbeknownst to Juliette, Aria also had Ravel in her program. In fact, it was the very same piece that her rival would be performing.

However, she's also not aware that Aria ditched it, along with Debussy and Schumann.

And now, as she stood at the back of the stage, hearing the playful and very vibrant Ravel that Juliette was playing, Aria couldn't help but shiver. She hated to admit it but, Juliette was so good.

Abbacchio, who noticed Aria's uneasiness, placed a reassuring hand on hers, grasping it, and seemingly transferring some of his energy towards her. She performed her La Campanella like wild fire earlier, she must be starting to feel really exhausted. She needed support, and he was more than willing to give her all the help he could give in place of Bruno.

"I never thought I'd go back to square one for this." Aria confessed to him just when Juliette was reaching the end of her Ravel.

Abbacchio hummed. "Square one? Does that mean - ?"

"Yes." Aria nodded, and with a smile, he looked straight into Abbacchio's eyes. "I vowed to never touch that piece ever again for as long as I lived. But, here I' am."

"Well, I think it would make Sergei a little bit happier with you." Hearing the audience's applause as the performance came to its triumphant end, Abbacchio led her towards the entrance of the stage. "I think I haven't told you this but, your mother kind of reminds me of Monica Bellucci." He told her with a hint of tenderness in his usually cold and low voice. "And your mother,... reminds me of you. You bring fire with you wherever you perform. Whatever you perform. I think she's smiling down at you from Heaven right now. I think she's so proud of you."

Aria tightened her hold on Abbacchio's hand, a bit scared and hesitant to let it go. "I'm no Monica Bellucci, though. I'm just,... Aria."

"I know. You're just Aria." For a while, just for a brief moment, Aria was sure she saw a faint hint of smile on Abbacchio's lips. And, when she realized it, the stage was finally ready for her. "It's your turn now, Aria. Break a leg." Abbacchio was about to leave her to join Bruno and Laura, when he said another thing that made Aria's heart leap. "Oh, by the way, I want to tell you,...

" ... Bucciarati is fighting with you, too."

And with those words, the man finally left her.

Walking down the stage for the last time during this event felt so surreal on Aria's part. Her black dress made it clear that what she's going to perform was a far cry from the sunshine and rainbows that Juliette offered a while ago.

It would be more. Much more.

And to Aria, it felt like going back into her depression.

With many eyes and ears focused solely on her, she sat down, the orchestra and the conductor all ready for her. Once again, she felt Bruno's eyes on her. Abbacchio told her he's fighting alongside her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing this fact into her heart and turning it into her own strength. All of a sudden, she felt a pair of warm arms wrapping her body in a tender embrace from behind.

Then, she heard a voice.

It was Bruno.

"I believe in you, Aria." He told her.

Aria opened her eyes and nodded at the conductor. Her fingers hovered once more over the ebony and ivory keys, and with melancholy, she started playing.

Once again, the Queen Of The Night gently wept.

Laura recognized the first few notes that Aria began playing and almost shed a tear. "Rachmaninoff." She breathed with much emotion.

That's right. Aria vowed to never touch Rachmaninoff's pieces ever again after that evening she was almost killed. But, somehow, something whispered to her to seek its cold arms once more. To feel it once again in her body.

To play it once more like how she used to.

And she couldn't stop the memories from flooding into her mind all at once.

Of memories that were both happy and sad.

She remembered how she suffered with a Stand she couldn't control, and how Bruno helped her overcome it. She also remembered those times she loathed herself for hurting other people, for making them suffer, for making them see nightmares that plagued their lives.

She remembered how Bruno's love towards her saved her from all the pain and sadness. Because of him, she never had to worry about that Stand ever again. Because of him, she learned to accept herself for what she truly was.

Because of him, she felt loved, and protected.

And Aria transferred all of these thoughts into the Rachmaninoff piece she's playing. She wanted the depression, the sadness, the insecurities, the pain and suffering associated with it be changed into those new and happy memories she had with her new friends, new adventures,...

... and most of all, with the man she loved,...

... the one who loved her more than she ever could.

And she was more than glad she met him.

Bruno saved her from everything.

It felt like Aria was battling with her own struggles with each melancholy note she’s playing. Soon, her performance no longer felt like a contest but, a love letter, the story of her life being told through Sergei Rachmaninoff's darkest, and most triumphant piece.

And by the time Aria was finally reaching the climax of the last movement, she has forgotten about the concours, the audience, and even her competition with Juliette.

What's left in Aria's eyes were the piano, the orchestra, Abbacchio, who was silently rooting for her, Laura, who taught her how to bite back when someone bites her,...

... and Bruno, who sent his Stand towards her and stayed with her all throughout her performance.

And when her performance finally came to its conclusion, only then did she hear the deafening cheers of the audience who called out her name, and clamored for more. The adoration she received went on for at least a few more minutes, the longest she’s ever witnessed and experienced, that she could still even hear it when she and her two other competitors were called back to the stage for the announcement of the Champion.

And even when Juliette Laurent was declared as the Champion, Aria could still hear the audience calling out for her and asking her for an encore.

Not from the Champion. Her.

She looked at the judges, who all smiled at her and offered her the piano, and the stage, one last time. She looked at Abbacchio and realized he was telling her to treat him for a drink after her performance. She looked at Laura and saw her wiping her tears and calling out her name along with the audience.

She looked at Bruno and saw him smiling at her, mouthing the very words that made her blush every single time.

Ti amo molto, Aria.

And with those sweet words, she sat down and performed the final movement of Rachmaninoff's piano concerto once more.

*

"Look at me, Bello! Bruno!" Juliette pleaded, going after Bucciarati with her much prized golden trophy. "I won the competition! Not Aria."

"I know." Bruno simply answered. He doesn't have an ounce of patience left with her, and he's doing everything he can to not knock the lights out of her.

"What? Can't you see? I'm worthy to be with you! We belong to each other!" Juliette added with a touch of drama. And Bruno knew she's lying. "I won the entire thing! Not Aria - "

"Will you please stop repeating that?" Abbacchio, who doesn't even have an ounce of respect towards her for making Aria angry, practically yelled at her. "Yes, you won. The judges decided that. But we damn well know who really won."

"The audience? Was it because Aria was called to do an encore and not me? The audience is nothing! They're - "

It was only for a split second but, Bruno and Abbacchio clearly saw Laura walk pass behind Juliette. They both saw her hold up her hand, open her palm, and blow something on Juliette’s face.

It didn't stop her from talking but, what came out of her mouth next truly revealed what Juliette was really after.

"Bruno, you're nothing back then! Just a lowly Passione Soldato with a thin wallet. But, at least you performed well in bed, that's why I endured you. But now, you're a Capo! You control everything in the palm of your hand and you can do anything you want! I want your title! I want your money! I want your - !"

It was then that Juliette finally realized she was involuntarily saying the truth.

This Laura woman,...

... she's a Stand User, after all!

And she used whatever Stand she has to make Juliette admit her true feelings!

"Well, then, that proves you're just like all the other women who claimed they love me." Bruno answered in his monotonous tone. "You don't really love me. You love my bank account. But, Aria truly loves me for who I' am and not for what I have. I know because I can tell when someone's lying. And now, I can finally say you're the worst of them all. Let's go, Abbacchio."

"Gladly."

"No! Bruno, don't leave me! Bello, please!"

"You know you look ridiculous and pitiful begging for a man like that, right?" Laura told her, adding more insult to Juliette's injury. The offended woman stood up and was about to rain insults down on her when she blew on her face again. "Go to the plaza, someone's waiting for you there. Oh, and make sure to obey everything he'll tell you, alright?"

"Yes, Fraulein. Right away, Fraulein." Juliette obeyed like a zombie and went towards the Venice plaza.

Laura gazed at what's happening outside and saw, just in time, how Aria landed a punch on Bucciarati's stomach, making Abbacchio laugh hysterically.

"Good. Mission accomplished." Laura smiled. She took her phone, and as she was about to call someone, it rang.

"Hello, Giorno? Yes, I'm still here. Ah, no, she didn't win but, at least she got the silver medal. Ah,... I see. I understand. I'll go there right away. Tell the others to wait for me, please."

Laura ended the call with the Don. She, then, dialed another number and waited for an acquaintance to answer it.

"Hello, Melone, I have something for you. No, seriously! Go to the Venice Plaza, pronto! She'll be waiting for you there. Alright, got it."

And before she ended the call, she heard a slurping sound, like a tongue wiping against moist lips,...

***

***

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 19th, Thursday 17:13

„Lucas is here!!“

„Alright sweety, I think everyone on the street has heard that now.“ His mother assured her loudly as she herself got up to follow her daughter to the door. Jens was only half listening, he was thinking. About Tuesday. About yesterday. About every day to come.

„It’s good to see you again, Lucas. How are you?“

„Really great actually, thank you, hope you too?“ There was some rustling of clothes and shuffling of feet coming from the entrance, Jens couldn’t see from where he sat in the corner or the living room.

„Bit suffering under the weather, but that’s alright.“ His mother replied, the front door fell shut.

„Understandable.“ The three, his mother, Lotte and his boyfriend, almost had made it back into the livingroom. „Oh, I actually bought cake on my way over. We can have it for dessert. Or before for tea.“

„That’s so kind. But I already like you, no need for bribes.“ His mother joked, chuckling even as she took something from Lucas that sounded like paper? Plastic? Jens didn’t look up yet, he was busy staring down on the keys and his hands.

„Well, I’ll probably do something stupid at one point, better keep stacking up some plus points.“ Both of them sounded pleased. And Lotte said something, he didn’t catch, before the chairs scratched over the floor.

„Wow, I didn’t know you played. I thought this was a recording.“

He stopped, his fingers lingering on top of the keys of the old wooden upright piano. Lucas squeezing himself next to Jens on the little black bench shouldn’t have startled him as much. He obviously had heard him come over. He still needed a second to catch up. So he pulled his hands away, to let them sink into his lap, turning his head towards Lucas. 

How long hadn’t they seen each other? Merely a couple of days. 

He had missed this pretty face. The world appeared a bit brighter now.

„I’m not nearly good enough, as I super rarely play, but thanks, I guess.“ Jens told him, smiling lightly at the boy, who went to rest his hand on Jens’s tigh. Close enough that their fingers touched.

„Lucas, first of all he is lying, he is really good. He is just a dumb teenage boy who thought one day that piano lessons are for loosers. And second of all, if you want to keep collecting brownie points, get him to do anything but play Schubert again. He has been playing the same piece for two hours. It has to stop.“

„Yes, Lucas, please!“

Lotte strong heartedly supported their mother’s complaints, as they both turned their heads to plead with Lucas, who was very much amused in return. Nodding strongly.

„I was playing more than one piece, and you two know it.“ Jens was lying, he had played a couple of pieces first, until Minuet in A Major let him think clearly and then he basically had looped it until now. Problem was, the piece was only three minutes long, so he could see their point.

„Then play something else for me.“ Lucas suggested so cheery that Jens obviously couldn’t refuse. 

„Okay. What do you want?“

„Mhm, what can you play? Anything comes to mind, looking at my beautiful face.“

Jens’s eyes darted over to his mother and his sister sitting at the dining table, englufed in Lotte’s homework. If they had heard Lucas, they didn’t commented about it.

„Schumann?“ He said, letting his gaze fall back to Lucas’s eyes not having lost an ounce of his excitment.

„I have zero clues about classical music, dude, so play away.“

That’s what he did, raising his hands again to fall into place. Muscle memory so much stronger then he would like to admit. He didn’t had to think long about the right notes and rythym. He wasn’t sure why it had come to mind, but he hoped the boy would enjoy it enough to sit through the next couple of minutes.

Jens really hadn’t need to worry about that, as when he finished and turned his head, he found his boyfriend watching him mesmerised. He could have probably fucked the whole piece up and still managed to make Lucas happy. Jens would be lying if he wouldn’t acknowledge that he was blushing faintly.

„What is it called?“ Lucas whispered. Why he did, Jens couldn’t figure out.

„Eh, Widmung, opus 25, number 1.“ Thank god, as he was glad to have remembered it correctly. His mother or Lotte would definitely have corrected him there. And wouldn’t that have been awkward?

„Yea this doesn’t help at all, but I liked it a lot.“ Lucas grinned, now speaking louder again, never taking his eyes off Jens, as he went on. „Perhaps I’m a bit biased though. Still thank you.“

„Anytime.“ Jens smirked, feeling a little proud to have been able to impress his boyfriend.

„So what kind of music do you actually listen too, I doubt it’s just classical music all day.”

„How do you know I don’t?“ Jens replied feighing shock at Lucas’s absolute correct assumption.

„Oh, I don’t know, you just don’t look like a posh piano lover to me.“ His boyfriend’s expression was way to comfortable in his teasing.

„Aha.“ Jens felt already better, now that he was back into familiar banter with Lucas, after long days of dull sadness drowning him.

„Mhm.“ Lucas doubled down, without much words, but it made Jens to actually answer him.

„Well, I listen to a lot of r&b, you know, hiphop, rab kinda genres. Kendrik Lamar, Childish Gambino, Logic. To list some better known artists.”

„Of course you do, my youtuber skater boy.“

„Stop.“ Jens laughed as he watched the grin widen on Lucas’s face. „If I’m such a cliche, what are you listening to then, huh?“

„Ehm, a lot of indie music, acoustic versions, I’d say. I don’t think you would know them.“

„Much pretentious, aren’t we.“ Jens replied, getting nudged by Lucas, causing him almost to fall off the bench, that still was barely large enough to fit them both.

„What? Not at all.“ Lucas defended himself using the second of Jens readjusting himself on the bench, to link his arm lightly with Jens’s. 

Apparently Lucas didn’t mind being seen and obviously it was just his mother and his sister, so why was Jens not more casual about it? He really should stop worrying about it.

„You tell yourself that.“ He smirked instead, yanking Lucas lightly were they were now linked by the elbow. 

„And what else? Like what is something that comforts you, or is it really just r&b all day, every day?“ Lucas’s questions just kept coming.

„No, I enjoy classical music, immensly. Going to concerts and such. But something else would be nordic folk. Folk in general.“

„And you call me pretentious?” Lucas asked accusatory, leaning back from Jens in wonder, as the slight smile didn’t leave his lips, his mouth open. „The audacity.“

„Guilty. What about you then?“ 

„Ah lot’s of disco and funk. Some pop. 70s, 80s, you know. The good stuff.“

„Jesus.“ 

This was taking turns Jens hadn’t expected. Not that he would mind listening to whatever Lucas would put on. He’d probably be able to enjoy it nonetheless. But they barely had anything in common, other than maybe folk and indie, did they? This surely would be fun to figure out on long car rides.

„It’s great music. Sander and me are very much on the same page there, give or take some artists, we can’t agree on. Robbe was so close to throw us out that saturday I stayed over.“

„I can imagine.“ Jens completely was with his best friend there. Lucas and Sander passionately arguing over 70s music. No thank you. „I have to ask, how old are you, again?“

„Shut up. Third question.“ Lucas replied, shaking his head.

„More?“ Jens was pretty sure they had covered everything. He was wrong though.

„Third question. What is something you listen to, when you are one hundred percent sure, no one you know is around to see you vibing to it.“

Jens laughed. Loud and absolutely done with his boyfriend and his little interview. 

„Tell me.“ Lucas pleaded, pursing his lips, as he leaned in closer. Fuck.

„I love Doja Cat. And Ashnikko“ Jens tried so hard to stay confident in his answer, because not even Robbe had seen Jens put it on. He only ever safely lipsynched parts of her songs at parties, where alcohol was involved. Or all in its entirety alone in his room.

„I have no clue who that is.“ Lucas said, clearly a bit more somber now that he couldn’t make fun of Jens, as he didn’t know the artist that well. Thank god.

„I’m sure you have heard some songs of them. But yea they are some powerful woman. I know practically every word to their songs, and if you tell anyone else I’ll kill you.“

„Well, now I need to see you sing them.“ Lucas was back in his element of making Jens’s live harder, as the smirk returned on his lips.

„Nope.“ Jens cut off any further demands, before it was too late. „Who do you secretly listen to?“

„This is embarrasing but I was and still am a One Direction fan.“ Oh yes, this was good. Jens would never let Lucas forget that he had told him this. „I also may or may not have had, and still have, a crush on Harry Styles. So sorry, but you are out, the second I get a chance.“

„Wow, thank you.“ Jens laughed, pecking a kiss on the pouting lips of Lucas. Who tried his hardest to keep himself from falling into giggling with Jens.

He had actually forgotten that the weren’t alone when his mother’s voice came from the other side of the big space inside his house. Loud enough to stare at Lucas in shock. 

The boy next to him just shrugged his shoulders amused.

„How about you put some of these songs on, that you so dearly love apperently. And Lotte and me can find out who actually has some taste in music.“

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

I thought long about the type of music they would listen too. We obviously hadn’t had a season to find out, other than the song Lucas and Kes danced to in S1. I hope that you wouldn’t be too bothered by my choices here. I just always need songs to get into my character’s heads and these are the directions it went in. thank you for continuing to read my story! i love all of you!

[komowah-blog]

Sarada’s Sharingan | Boruto Theory

 heres a theory about Sarada, cuz duh mate, i idolize her. shes a cute tsun-tsun, and has much potential. sorry if theres like spelling mistakes, not grammar. i may use grammar in some sentences, some not. please like if you enjoyed~

Most of this is from Quora, paraphrased and applied to this theory subject. This covers her cannon MS design, what triggers her MS, and evolution.

PS: THIS WILL COVER A LOT WITH SASUKE AND ITACHI, DON’T GET MAD PLS BC OF HOW MUCH INFO IM SAYING ABOUT EM

PS 2.0: THIS WILL COVER THINGS ABOUT SAKURA AND uhh DEATH DON’T GET OFFENDED I LUV HER 2 BUT

Now, now. Here’s just basically random things about Sarada’s sharingan. Let’s start with... What is the Sharingan?

Sharingan is developed when an Uchiha member experiences a powerful emotion (about a person close to them). During this emotional moment the brain releases a special form of chakra that affects the optic nerves and transforms the eye into the Sharingan. 

(Credits to Hemanth Mothkuri on Quora!~)

Evolution

So. Her evolution of the Sharingan. From now, (ep 90) we still only had one tomoe. She should atleast have two, in my opinion. Too bad, though. Sasuke Uchiha, awakened double tomoe when he was fighting Haku. Would they be able to unlock their second tomoe when under stress, and saving someone they are really close to? Haku appeared episode nine from the original Naruto series, which is really fast for Sasuke to get double-tomoe. But then again, Sasuke unlocked his sharingan in a very young age. He unlocked second tomoe in his right eye first. Example:

It is unclear when we see his left eye unlock it, but just know that it’s one eye first after another. 

So basically, here’s a list when we see his Sharingan unlock.

One tomoe:

He unlocked during the Uchiha massacre.

Double tomoe:

On the Great Naruto Bridge, part I of Haku and Zabuza.

Three tomoe:

Fighting Naruto at the Final Valley of the End.

I’ve been noticing a pattern, here. You first unlock the Sharingan when experiencing a great and intense emotion. For Sarada, it was seeing her dad for the first time. The double tomoe, you unlock protecting someone close to you, or INTENSE training. Triple tomoe, you unlock fighting the person who was close to you. 

Let’s compare this to Itachi.  When Team 2 was given the task of guarding the Fire Daimyō, the company was attacked by Obito. Tenma attacked Obito and was killed in the fight. This emotional moment caused Itachi to awaken his Sharingan. Credit to Henmath Mouthkiri on Quora. :)

This was on episode 453: The Pain of Living. It can also be retrieved in itachi Shinden: Book of Bright Light.  I’m not too sure on him getting his second tomoe, and third tomoe. But, we do know how he got his Mangekyo Sharingan. Probably, just witnessing Shisui's death to protect the village was traumatic enough for Itachi to awaken his Mangekyou. Itachi, the only person I know so far to manifest two tomoe in one go, was a deep thinker. The death of his teammates and his will to do something about it though his friends were already dead made him desperate. But his will against the desperation held on due to his inquisitive nature (by which he kept himself inside the desparation long enough to generate enough of the unique chakra) and he managed to unlock enough power for the two tomoe sharingan. It can be that this is how an Uchiha is able to contain and harness the power of the Sharingan. Credit to JNat on Animestackexhange :) Credit to Tehol Beddict on Quora, too!

All in all, Sarada will get double tomoe, soon. But don’t get your hopes high in case that doesn’t happen in the few next episodes.

Mangekyou Sharingan

How will Sarada Uchiha retrieve the Mangekyou Sharingan? It’s like experiencing unlocking the Sharingan but the trauma is 10x more. Sasuke unlocked Mangekyo Sharingan by witnessing Itachi’s death. Even though he didn’t murder him, Itachi died of tuberculosis or lung cancer. Same with Itachi, he witnessed Shisui’s suicide. Itachi was a deep thinker, so no wonder he’d get his double-tomoe in one go, and Mangekyou Sharingan. Itachi lost everyone, and so did Sasuke. Sasuke couldn’t get Mangekyou because of how young he was, and he would have that much chakra prepared for the doujutsu. Many theorists believe that Sarada will fight Boruto, I don’t think so. They don’t have a rivalry like Sasuke and Naruto. They have a protection relationship, and which is “I want to get stronger for I can protect you.” Either Sasuke or Sakura will die for Sarada, to get her MS. Naruto is out of the question, since he will be training Kawaki, he won’t be Sarada’s mentor. Please note, not every Uchiha needs to experience death, I want to see somethign creative and peaceful for Sarada to push aside all the hatred, but hey! This is just a theory. :) And, she’d just awaken it by strong feelings, like Obito. He didn’t lose anyone, but just his emotions. 

Sasuke

First of all.. look at Boruto. 

Besides the fact that Boruto is fine ;) look at everything. Now, this is one of the most obvious theories.. but look.

Boruto has the following from his master, Sasuke..

Kusanagi

Cloak

Headband

Now, it would be reasonable if Sasuke gave Boruto his headband. Like in the Momoshiki Arc, I can see that. But his weapon? His cape? Hmm? Be reasonable, look. The sword he has had since a teen? His cloak that hides his arms, and his headband is ok. I personally, don’t think Sasuke will die. Kishi will lose about 80% of the fanbase if Sasuke dies. (i’d stay tho :) ). In my opinion, the flashforward is bait. I have some pictures on what Kishi has drewn himself for promotional pictures of Sarada grown up. She has an MS, if you were wondering. ;) 

I couldn’t find much and think about the rest, but Sakura has a big way up ahead.

Sakura

Most definitely. She will die in my opinion, for Sarada to move on. It’s not because I hate her, but this is one reason on how I imagine Sarada getting her Sharingan upgraded. Why, though? 

Sakura is irrelevent in Boruto now. She isn’t a main character anymore, she doesn’t play a role. 

We all know Sarada and Sakura’s relationship. Sakura even raised her by herself. Sakura is a amazing opportunity. Also, her death will not only be amazing for Sarada’s development.. but her relationship with Sasuke, too. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see Sarada start falling in the Curse of Hatred by that and Sasuke stepping in to help her not commit all the sins and mistakes he did? Or, what about Sarada accusing him o fhis own wife’s death and not being sad, or feel any emotion for it? Massive chances are at stake here by this single event, which is by a character we don’t use anymore. As much as I love Sakura, and would most likely cry to see her die, this is an amazing opportunity. I know, you’re sad too. Kishi claimed that in Boruto, no older gen characters are safe from death. He also claimed it will get a LOT darker, and may be no happy ending. Let’s continue on.

Finally, because of the cause of Sakura’s death, we could actually see her fighting again, some spotlight on her. She hasn’t gotten some lately, besides Sasori and Shin. She was used as a chakra batter for Obito, getting a single hit in Kaguya or bursting some Juubi fodder won’t count, let’s try to see something special for her, and only her. She had a big fighting will in part one, but now she’s just a housewife. 

Overall, I see Sakura with the biggest potential of  her death. Sasuke is too important to die like that yet, but someone needs a boost for Sarada for her sweet, sweet, lovely, Uchiha porwerup. There are too many doors open for her death. There’s no risk involved, also.

Credits to Ian Schumann on Quora! ^^ 

ily boo

Now, let’s see some pictures.

Kishimoto hints

Sasuke will take the ‘Jiraiya’ role, in that case, he’s too important to kill of like I’ve stated before.

However, while Jiraiya died around two thirds into the story, I simply can’t see Sasuke getting rid of, at least not that early. And its important to note here that if this were to happen, it would HAVE to happen somewhere relatively early, though we’ll get to that soon enough.

The fact is that he’s just too strong. A threat able to defeat someone of his level would be well beyond the main characters’ abilities as things are now and anywhere in the nearby future as a matter of fact. Furthermore if he were to be killed, that would cause all hell to break loose way too early. The logical next step after all is for Naruto himself to step in, as he’s the only one strong enough to take on someone at that level.

But then what? Have Naruto killed by the same threat? No…it does build this threat up a lot, but its basically the same thing twice. What about having Naruto defeat the threat? Again, no, that doesn’t work. It would make Sasuke’s death seem pointless and drive away attention from the new generation.

The point I’m getting at is that Sasuke’s death at any early point in the story would just be playing one’s cards too soon, especially at the sole benefit of Sarada. It leaves little leeway for the plot to move on and more so complicates things than builds them up.

All of this was retrieved from Ian Schumann on Quora, that’s why you see block-quotes around. Sasuke is too important to kill off. 

Blindness

Now, if Sarada got MS, would she get blind? Well, Sarada has glasses, which can somewhat help her but I doubt it. Sasuke could either take her to where he kept his eyes. To swap them out, but she’d need MS that time. (Also supports how Sakura’s part would come in play). This is a short concept, because not much evidence will be supported but, will edit when I think of a good theory!~

Sarada’s MS Design

Little extra ^3^

This artwork was drawn by Kishimoto himself, previewing Boruto’s teen years. Her MS design is like a flower / sun.Example:

[afteriwake]

The Cacophony Of Life (2/6)

AN UPDATE! SHOCKGASP! I KNOW!

Here’s an introduction to their preteen years. Enjoy (especially you, @elliedilly...I know you’ve been waiting forever).

The Cacophony Of Life - From birth, every person can hear the music that their soul mate hears, whether it’s music that they’re playing, listening to or singing along to, in their mind. Measures can be taken to lessen the sound, but there are times when the sound is too much, too overwhelming. For years, Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper use their connection to each other through the music they both hear to communicate: first to annoy each other as children, then to care for each other as teenagers and young adults, and finally to express the longing that hopefully one day, and one day soon, they’ll meet each other face to face and express the love that’s grown between them throughout the years.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

May 1990 Molly Depeche Mode, “Enjoy The Silence” Sherlock Frédéric Chopin, “Prelude in E-Minor (op.28 no. 4”

She was starting to hate the smell of hospitals.

Dad was in the hospital again, though Mum swore he’d be out and about in no time, but they both thought she didn’t hear them when they talked at night. Sound carried in their little home in Bozeat, especially at night, when her room was quiet and so was her head.

Like she wished it was now.

She could tell her headmate was playing the music again. Was there nothing he...she...couldn’t do? She could barely dance and they were a bloody prodigy! It wasn’t fair.

None of this was fair, not at all.

She took her cassette player and went outside, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. Dad may come home, yeah, but this wasn’t going to end well. The hospital visits were becoming more frequent, the whispered conversations at home becoming more urgent, and she knew the truth even if her parents didn’t want to admit it: they had less time with her dad being alive than ever before. Maybe a few years, maybe a year, maybe months…

She jammed on her headphones and thumbed the volume dial all the way up. Yeah, sure, it could hurt her hearing but she didn’t care. Soon the soothing sounds of Dave Gahan’s voice filled her ears, drowning out the classical music a bit more.

Words like violence Break the silence Come crashing in Into my little world Painful to me Pierce right through me Can't you understand Oh my little girl

It took her a few moments to realize the other music, the music her headmate was creating, was slowing. It wasn’t their normal abrupt halt before doubling down. It was more that they were actually...listening. The song must have been a shock, roaring through their head like it did hers, but there was no retaliation.

Not this time.

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very unnecessary They can only do harm

And then, seemingly, they picked up the melody, playing a counterpoint, and she stopped in her tracks. This wasn’t the sort of music their headmate liked but they were...comforting her?

The tears fell and they couldn’t stop, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Someone was there, someone maybe cared. Maybe they didn’t know it all but...this was a change.

A change she needed oh so badly.

September 1991 Sherlock Johannes Brahms, “Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 77 - III. Allegro giocoso” Molly Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”

He stood up on the platform, violin tucked under his chin. His headmate had been rather quiet the last few months, and he’d thought with there being a summer break she or he would have been playing music all the time. He certainly was. But it seemed, perhaps, he was playing to an audience of one even when he was in a room of his own. There had been a comfort in that, that the two of them were no longer being childish.

It was...nice.

Nice things had been in short supply when there had been an increase in the fights in the household. His family would never yell, no, but things changed. It decidedly got colder, darker…

Lonelier.

So for his headmate to let him be in peace had been a blessing.

He had not started to play when suddenly there was a blaring sound in his head and he grit his teeth. Not now, not now…

Load up on guns, bring your friends It's fun to lose and to pretend She's over bored and self assured Oh no, I know a dirty word

“May I be excused for a moment?” he asked the people who were judging him and his entrance to an elite music program. They nodded and he dashed to the lobby of the building, his headmate’s song repeating stupid, meaningless lyrics until there was a pause.

With the lights out, it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious Here we are now, entertain us A mulatto An albino A mosquito My libido Yeah, hey, yay

He laid his bow across the strings and then made the most horrific sound he could and the sound cut off in his head immediately. He waited a few moments to see if his headmate turned their music back on, but there was blissful silence. He took careful steps back into the auditorium, got on the platform again, and began to play the piece by Brahms he had been practicing for months.

All to blissful, sweet silence in his head.

Except for the hum.

They had heard him play this song at least a hundred times, and he found the hum to be a pleasant accompaniment to his playing instead of a distraction. His playing got more lively, infused with feelings he couldn’t quite describe, and he felt a small smile form on his face before he closed his eyes and let the music take him away.

And then, the song was over, and the humming was gone, and he felt...alone.

But the adults were clapping and he would show his gratefulness to his headmate later, he thought to himself as he took a bow.

March 1992 Molly Guns N’ Roses, “November Rain” Sherlock Robert Alexander Schumann, “Träumerei” (as performed by Mischa Elman & Joseph Seiger)

The song played on the radio as her mum brought her home from school, a different tune in her head, giving her a headache. A trip into London, have to go, urgent. A sad song for a sad occasion. Dad had to be rushed to one of the bigger hospitals for a series of tests and she and her family were staying at a hotel nearby and she’d get a week out of school.

As if that would make it any better.

Her classmates were mean. She was losing her father, bits and pieces at a time, didn’t they care? But no, they teased about the cane he used, the wheelchair he was in sometimes, the sudden weight loss, the loss of hair…

She was losing pieces of her father a bit at a time and they didn’t care.

She felt tears at her eyes for she didn’t know how many times this week, but soon she heard the other song in her head stop and a counterpoint to the orchestral beginning and she relaxed. Rain on the outside of the car to match the song, and beautiful music in her head to remind her she wasn’t alone. She had the feeling even though there was Slash’s guitar solo in this, her headmate appreciated the long version with the orchestral beginning. They never joined in before today, but they never stopped her from listening to it. Perhaps this was a shared song to love? Who knew?

She shut her eyes and set her head against the window as the lyrics came into play, her hand against the glass and a sad smile on her face as she hummed along to Axl’s vocals.

When I look into your eyes I can see a love restrained But darlin' when I hold you Don't you know I feel the same

'Cause nothin' lasts forever And we both know hearts can change And it's hard to hold a candle In the cold November rain

This might not last forever, but it was happening now, and she was so so grateful for the music in her head.

November 1993 Sherlock Giuseppe Verdi, “La Forza del Destino Overture” Molly Smashing Pumpkins, “Mayonaise”

For once, the music on his record player and the music in his head, though at odds, were a blessing. There was a row going on downstairs and so one of his favourite overtures was playing as loudly as the record player could play it. He knew his parents may be upset but frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t care much about pleasing them in any shape or form since he knew he was going to be sent off to another boarding school soon.

Was this all his own fault? No, not really. He had a set of skills, he put them to use and instead of making the world better he was laughed off. Well, he’d show them one day. One day, everyone would know who he was and he would be important.

His headmate had been listening to a particular album off and on over the last few weeks and he was surprised that he found it interesting. It was not his typical sort of music, a bit more...avant-garde? Experimental? But he had heard of this alternative grunge music coming out of America, in Seattle, and that seemed to be what his headmate liked. Some of it was too loud, too crass, but this particular band was rather melodic in some ways. He knew the name now of one of the songs he’d heard in his head, “Disarm,” and this one wasn’t so bad either.

Mother weep the years I'm missing All our time can't be given Back Shut my mouth and strike the demons That cursed you and your reasons Out of hand and out of season Out of love and out of feeling So bad

When I can, I will Words defy the plan When I can, I will

Fool enough to almost be it And cool enough to not quite see it And old enough to always feel this Always old, I'll always feel this

No more promise no more sorrow No longer will I follow Can anybody hear me I just want to be me When I can, I will Try to understand That when I can, I will

He made a mental note to buy himself this album the next time he went looking for vinyl, and to thank his headmate when he met them...whenever that would be.

August 1994 Molly Nine Inch Nails, “Hurt” Sherlock Sherlock Holmes, Untitled Original Compositions

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

She felt so hollow. She’d thrown herself on her bed after the funeral and turned this song on and kept it going, over and over and over, until she had fallen asleep. Had she fallen asleep? She didn’t know.

She didn’t care.

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know Goes away in the end You could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

It wasn’t apparent at first, but she heard something in her mind. Something...hopeful. Maybe even happy. Something that just made her want to reach out and find her headmate and hold them, have them hold her. She turned the song off and curled back onto her side, clutching the stuffed cat her father had given her when she was a baby, thinking she had no tears left to cry and yet there was new wetness on her cheeks.

The song was slow. Not because the song was meant to be slow, but it was as though her headmate was running on residual strength. But he or she kept playing, even though she imagined their arms must be so tired, so sore.

Had they been playing the entire time she was asleep? She glanced at her bedside clock and saw she’d been asleep for four hours. Four hours?!? Playing the violin for four hours straight? Bloody hell…

Soon the song tapered off after a little more, but she picked up on what the melody had begun and hummed her own version of the song. Then she wasn’t alone. There was a soft humming in her mind, knowingly differing the song to match her version. Soon the humming faded and she imagined her headmate had exhausted themselves.

But she kept humming until she, too, fell asleep, knowing she owed her headmate more than they could ever imagine.

[ezatluba]

How Super Sniffer Dogs Are Helping Detect Disease Around The World

January 25, 2020

JOHN HENNING SCHUMANN

Dogs' olfactory capacity — they can sniff in parts per trillion — primes them to detect disease.

As the owner of a yellow lab named Gus, author Maria Goodavage has had many occasions to bathe her pooch when he rolls around in smelly muck at the park.

Nevertheless, her appreciation for his keen sense of smell has inspired her write best-selling books about dogs with special assignments in the military and the U.S. Secret Service.

Her latest, Doctor Dogs: How Our Best Friends Are Becoming Our Best Medicine, highlights a vast array of special medical tasks that dogs can perform — from the laboratory to the bedside, and everywhere else a dog can tag along and sniff.

Canines' incredible olfactory capacity — they can sniff in parts per trillion — primes them to detect disease, and their genius for observing our behavior helps them guide us physically and emotionally.

Goodavage spoke with NPR contributor John Henning Schumann, a doctor and host of Public Radio Tulsa's #MedicalMonday about what she has learned about dogs in medicine

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

What led you to look into dogs in medicine?

I've been reading and writing about military dogs and Secret Service dogs for many years now, and it was sort of a natural next step. These are dogs on the cutting edge of medicine. They're either working in research or right beside someone to save their life every day. And really, doctor dogs are, for the most part, using their incredible sense of smell to detect diseases. And if they're paired with a person, they bond with that person to tell them something that will save their life.

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You reported on dogs doing this kind of work all over the world.

Yes, I did go around the world. The first doctor dogs I learned about were in Japan. There's a village about five hours north of Tokyo where scientists were doing some research among a population that has a very high level of stomach cancer. And I wanted to find the best of the best, cutting-edge medical dogs around the world. It was really fun to see these service and research dogs working with their people and how good they are. They're incredibly good at detecting disease.

You also report on dogs that can detect ovarian cancer, which is personal for you.

I do have skin in this game, actually, because unfortunately, we have ovarian cancer in the family. My mom died of it.

With ovarian cancer, there's not much great testing for early detection. I heard about these dogs at the University of Pennsylvania Veterinary Working Dog Center that are able to smell ovarian cancer. They're able to detect it as early as stage one. We're not even talking tumors here. They're able to detect ovarian cancer in one drop of plasma from a woman with ovarian cancer.

The fact that the dogs can do this is exciting to me, and I think for so many people who have hard-to-detect cancers in the family.

What the dogs are doing now is remarkable and it's because their sense of smell is so keen. They can sniff in parts per trillion. They can detect a tablespoon of a substance, like a packet of sugar, in two Olympic-sized swimming pools. Humans have six million olfactory receptors and dogs have up to 300 million. So their noses are really primed.

Another area in which dogs excel in the clinical world is for patients with diabetes.

Yeah. It's amazing. We don't know what the dogs are smelling, but the trainers are training the dogs on the scent of hypoglycemia and also hyperglycemia. The dogs are somehow able to put it together and tell the person 15 or maybe 20 minutes before the person's devices even say, 'Hey, you're going into the low range!' because the dogs detect this in real time. So the person has an extra bit of time to do what they need to do, take glucose or whatever.

I was fascinated to learn that doctor dogs may also have a role in detecting so-called "superbugs," that is, antibiotic-resistant microbes.

Yes. Actually, there are three or four of these dogs working in a hospital in Vancouver who are sniffing out C. diff, which is one of those superbugs that can easily spread in vulnerable populations in hospitals and manifests in diarrhea and all kinds of issues that can actually kill people. And these dogs are stopping it in its tracks. Researchers have found that where these dogs work, the rates of C. diff really diminish. I hung out at this hospital one day and I just watched one of the dogs do his rounds, and he found what seemed to be C. diff -- and before I knew it, they had a whole cleaning team.

How do dogs help people suffering from PTSD?

There are people from the military, war veterans and active duty soldiers even who are suffering from PTSD and who have gotten service dogs who, again, have been game changers. They save lives.

One of the dogs I learned about was placed with a soldier who had been to Iraq twice. He had PTSD and his life was falling apart. His marriage, his health, everything. He was on a cocktail of drugs. It made him a zombie. He hated that feeling. And one day someone told him about doctor dogs for PTSD.

He ended up getting one. Now if he's feeling anxious, he'll say, like, "snuggle" and the dog will just come in for a big hug, or another of various commands. His life changed dramatically for the better. His marriage is really good now. He's a stable dad and he's working. He's down to only one or two meds.

You write about doctor dogs helping people with autism. Can you share an example?

Yeah, it's really beautiful. Sometimes these dogs may be using their nose. Sometimes they're just being highly observant. And dogs are. They watch our body language all the time. But there are now more dogs being used for children on the autism spectrum, and they are remarkable. They can usually tell ahead of time when a child is about to have a tremendous amount of anxiety, panic, meltdown or what have you. When there's too much stimulation for a child with autism and the dog is there, they'll lean into the child.

Dogs change lives not just of these children, but of the whole family.

There is a family I wrote about in Minnesota, with a sweet boy who waited for four years to get a service dog for his autism. He was not able to go to restaurants. The family, therefore, couldn't go to restaurants. He couldn't travel. He could barely leave the house. He did go to school, but that was tough, too. And so they waited four years. They tried to get a regular pet dog in the meantime, thinking, "Oh well, you know, it's a dog. It'll work." But it was a disaster. It did not work at all as a service dog.

So they got a service dog named Lloyd. He's a big black lab. As the boy met him, he started crying. His mother had never seen him cry. Tears of joy.

And right there, boom, everything changed. Lloyd is the super calming presence. He's able to be with the boy and change his behavior. The boy could not go to the barber and get a haircut before Lloyd. Now all he has to do is just have his hand on Lloyd's head.

And the boy and Lloyd like to have their own table at restaurants!

[geralddeslandes]

Turner on the Rhine

I have just got back from a six-day cruise from Cologne to Mainz on which I gave four talks about Turner’s visits to the Rhine. The first talk concentrated on his early life before his first visit in 1817. It described his training in life-drawing and from casts of classical sculptures at the Royal Academy Schools and contrasted this with the picturesque studies that he made as an itinerant artist and the works that he made in a sublime manner such as his portrayal of the Alps. It explored his use of classical imagery to represent the Napoleonic wars in his allegory of Dido Building of Carthage and The Decline of Carthage. More speculatively, it suggested that Turner may have deliberately used different classical modes in his landscape studies in the Liber Studiorum. In doing so it compared articular landscapes to the use of the Dorian, Lydian, Phrygian and Ionian modes by Reynolds, Joseph Wright of Derby and Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun respectively.

The second talk focused on Turner’s tour of the Rhine in 1817. It examined the evidence for how many of the 51 watercolours were made on the spot and how they related to the three notebooks of drawings that he made on the trip. It described the influence of John Gilpin on Turner’s use of striking viewpoints and compositional devices as well as his adoption of anecdotal imagery to depict medieval castles. It discussed the influence of the Grand Tour and the contemporary preoccupation with culture as a means to self-improvement and social mobility. It then related these to Northanger Abbey where Catherine Morland is impressed by Henry’s picturesque description of ‘foregrounds, distances and second distances….side-screens and perspectives…’

In the third lecture I described Turner’s use of the sublime and compared his portrayal of the Lake District, the Alps and Tintern Abbey to that of Wordsworth. I also talked about Turner’s work in the context of Caspar David Friedrich, Philippe de Loutherbourg and John Martin and explained how their use of vivid colours, rough surfaces and lack of detail related to what Edmund Burke called ‘a sense of pain and danger’. I compared the ideas of Goethe and Schiller to those of the English Romantics and examined the paintings which Turner painted on the Rhine in the context of the contemporary fascination with what Jean-Jacques Rousseau called ‘torrents, rocks, firs, dark woods, mountains, rough tracks and precipices’.

In 1839 a crisis in the Middle East prompted France to threaten to extend its borders to the Rhine. This inspired 400 patriotic musical works by German composers in the decade that followed.  More than ever the Rhine came to epitomise what Friedrich Schlegel had called ‘memories of what Germany was and could be.’ The association of the river with restlessness and change became linked with the German concept of ‘the people’ as a community united by blood and by a shared identification with nature. I described how this organic narrative contrasted with the concept of nationhood promoted by the French Enlightenment in which citizens entered into a quasi-contractual relationship with each other that was based on the classical precedents of ancient city states.  The relevance of such ideas to Turner can be found in his selection of subjects similar to those that were first made popular in the Rhenish folk songs collected by Achim von Amim and Clemens Brentano in The Boy’s Magic Horn of 1805. They were later taken up by popular composers in the 1840s and subsequently reworked by Wagner in The Ring Cycle. Among such subjects were the Lorelai Rock and the Drachenfels, which were immortalized by Schumann and Wagner and which had already become familiar to English audiences through the publication of Byron’s Childe Harald. The poem had been an important inspiration for Turner’s first visit to the Rhine since he had hoped to make a series of 36 prints of the Rhine, including several locations mentioned in the poem, until his plans were upset by the publication of Baron Johann von Gurning’s publication of A Picturesque Journey along the Rhine in 1819.

Other works inspired by Byron were Turner’s numerous depictions of the Ehrenbreitstein, the fortress where the young French general, Marceau, was killed and The Field of Waterloo, which Turner presented alongside quotations from the poet. His links to German thinkers can also be found in his portrayal of The Opening of the Valhalla, the classical temple dedicated to German heroes such as Arminius, who had defeated the Romans on the Rhine. The temple was completed in 1828 but its creator, Ludwig of Bavaria, was forced to abdicate in the European-wide revolutions of 1848 in which Wagner took to the barricades against the Elector of Saxony in Dresden. Another of Turner’s paintings with links to German Romanticism is his portrayal of Heidelberg, the ruined castle of the daughter of James I and the Elector Palatinate of the Rhine, that became a meeting place for German nationalists and for the collection of fairy-tales, folk-songs and legends.

My final lecture discussed the way in which changes in markets, materials and techniques affected the status and perception of artists associated with the Rhine at different periods. I looked at the work of Durer in the context of the invention of printmaking; Turner in relation to the improvements in artificial colours and reprographic techniques that were devised during the industrial revolution and Gerhard Richter and Andreas Gursky in the context of digitization.

I talked about Turner’s adoption of bright, ready-made colours after 1815 and described the travelling pouch that he adapted to carry them. I described his debt to Goethe’s manual, The Art of Colour, which he carried with him on his painting trips. I also talked about the transition that took place in Turner’s life from the delivery by artists of commissioned works to ones that were made speculatively and exhibited to a paying audience in mixed exhibitions at the Royal Academy. I compared the incentive to use sensational effects to Philippe de Loutherbourg’s charging of admission to view his scenes of the Battle of the Nile and Beethoven’s arrangement of large and spectacular concerts in which audiences were able to hear the thunderous effects of the new iron-framed pianos.  At the same time I described Turner’s continued dependence on the lessons that he had learned as a young man from his fellow itinerant artists - Thomas Girtin, John Sell Cotman and Alexander and Robert Cozens. For in his frequent visits to the Rhine, he was not only returning to the locations of his youth but revisiting earlier experiments with materials and techniques in ways that evoke a life-long vinyl enthusiast leafing through his record collection.

One of the delights of the cruise was the opportunity to visit museums and galleries such as the Middle Rhine Museum in Koblenz, the Ludwig Museum in Cologne and the Guttenburg Museum in Mainz . We also visited the cathedrals of Mainz and Cologne, where we saw Richter’s great tribute to Goethe in his stained glass window of 4,900 digitally produced colours. Performances by musicians and entertainers, good company and perfect weather added to the experience. Since I would gladly do the cruise again, I would be grateful if anyone who went on the cruise or who would like to receive information about forthcoming river cruises on which I might speak to email me their comments. You can do so by by using the Contact button on my website at https://www.geralddeslandes.com/

[younglarva]

Upperseven, The Man To Kill-Bruno Nicolai & Sabina Montes • Tuo Sguardo Atomico-Mario N. • A Man Alone-John Barry • Fantabulous-Sandro Brugnolini • Deep Down-Ennio Morricone • Kiss Kiss Bang Bang-Bruno Nicolai • Let's Try-Piero Umiliani • Flashman-Franco Tamponi • Alexander-The Boots • Ypotron-Nico Fidenco • Rapporto Fuller, Base Stoccolma-Armando Trovaioli & Vania • Mister X-Manuel Parada • Billion Dollar Brain-Richard Rodney Bennett - Operation Lady Chaplin-Bruno Nicolai & Bobby Solo • [clip: Dr. No (1962)] • Duemafioso contra Goldginger - Piero Umiliani • Modesty Blaise-Dalida • Supercolpo Shake-Nico Fidenco • Lucky The Inscrutable (1967)-Bruno Nicolai • Satanik-Roberto Pregadio & Romano Mussolini • Let The Love Come Through-Roland Shaw & His Orchestra • A Night With Nuki-Brian Marshall Orchestra • Tiffany Sequence(From, "THE TIFFANY MEMORANDUM" or "IL MISTERO DELL'OMBRA" (Italy, 1967)-Riz Ortolani • Molotow Cocktail Party-Vivi Bach & Dietmar Schönherr • Knyom Mun Sok Jet Te: "I'm Unsatisfied”-Pan Ron • Wooly Bully-Ros Sereysothea, Sinn Sisamouth and Friends • Jam 5 Kai Thiet: "Wait 5 More Months”-Ros Sereysothea + Seang Vanthy • Trip-Kaygisizlar • Yuvajon Kouge Jet "Broken Heart Man”-Yol Aularong • Ghabileh-ye Lily-Mehr Pooya • Wait for Me-Roger Damawuzan • [clip:  Jean Seberg & Jean-Paul Belmondo Breathless (1960)] • L’adorable Femme Des Neiges-Christie Laume • La Nuit N'en Finit Plus-Petula Clark • Partie De Dames-Liz Brady • Gilgamis-Apaslar • The Man Who Must Leave-Kim Sun • What You Can Do In Your Life-Petalouda • Bairaag Dance Music-Kalyanji Anandji • Wollsiegel Party-Orchester Udo Gerlach • Meri Aakhon Mein Ek Sapna Hai-Sapan Jagmohan • Butterfly-Keith Kanga • Luchs-Theo Schumann Combo • Honigmond-Die Alexanders • Elektron-Tanzorchester Des Berliner Rundfunks • [download]

==============

A look at the spy genre. Specifically that action packed international flavor that flourished during the hight of the Cold War. Spy stories have been with us since the battle of Troy but internationalskullduggery and intrigue really took off in the 20th century with the two world wars. The spy film genre began with a merger between the paranoid invasion literature popular during WW1 and the invention of motion pictures during and after and produced such features as False Faces, The Mysterious X and the Fritz Lang Spies and Dr. Mabuse series. The lead up to WW2 offered new adversaries and Hollywood obliged with the work of Alfred Hitcock and the writer John Maquand (author of the Mr. Moto series). After the war we of course traded nazi villains for soviet villains and the Cold War was on. Due to the clandestine and proxy-war aspects of the Cold War, espionage and skullduggery was at the forefront - in life and in art. Again, Hollywood and literature obliged with a plethora of new work from Len Deighton, John Le Career and of course Ian Fleming. Fleming in particular pushed a somewhat more fantastical version of clandestine work and added action elements that - while maybe a little unrealistic - resonated with audiences in the 50s and 60s. A sub-genre was born and Bond films and imitators were churned out throughout the world. Of course these films needed soundtracks and some great work was put into service providing sonic action for the  physical action on screen. You’ll also notice that composers of this era were particularly adept at melding older big band arrangements with the emerging tropes of rock and psychedelia. Think of that iconic guitar twang intro on the Bond films. 

As the Cold War raged around the globe and jet setting spies fought each other on the silver screen, a major focus of that war - at least here in the US was Southeast Asia. The influx of GIs and western media had a profound effect on the local culture and - as kids will do everywhere - kids wanted to be a part of it. In the 60s, this meant western music and fashion and local rock bands grew up by the hundreds. Cheap Korean and Japanese instruments were available there (as they were here) and southeast asian garage bands proliferated. Due to the situation on the ground however, the music tended to concentrate in slightly more stable areas such as Thailand, Malaysia and (at least for a while) Cambodia rather than Vietnam proper. The Cambodian scene produced some of the liveliest music with bands melding pop, surf, psych and traditional Khmer melodies working out this transcultural melange at teen dances and hotel bars for locals and GIs alike.  Sadly, many of these Cambodian musicians met a terrible fate as the Khmer Rouge swept through in 1975 and those who could not escape or conceal their pre-war musical endeavors (everything from playing a musical instrument to having an education to wearing eyeglasses was considered a crime against the state) were killed or imprisoned. Fortunately, there are today some 2nd and third generation Cambodians - and allies - working to revive the memory and music of these fantastic players. Check out some of the music and research work done by Chom Nimol and Ethan Holtzman from the west coast  band Dengue Fever.

[lifeofnejez]

Diary Entry: 29th October 2019:

My minds obsession with what was, the picture of her face I can always remember and will never forget. Tonight as I stick Schumann on, listening to langsam, the melody of the violin and piano dance and intertwine with each other, reminds me of the relationship I had with her. That time in my life it felt like it was just me and her, nothing around us could get to us. It was definitely an experience I would never forget, as I hope she’d feel the same. She made me understand love in a different way. But tonight I will have to let go off that love.

I’m tired of these different emotions everyday, feeling like I’ve lost a part of my soul. Everyday I think of her feeling like I lost someone extremely beautiful and special to me. I hope she’ll find someone on her journey who could look after her and treat her as the beautiful empress she is. I do wish that for her, if I am not the one able to hold her hand, I do hope someone just as special as her will get to.

I feel as those I’m the piano now waiting for my lead violinist to join me on my journey.

I have a level of respect for love now, I remember what it feels like to love again. I thank her for that. I know I’ve loved her for lifetimes and I shall keep on loving her for lifetimes. Maybe I didn’t learn from my pervious karmic experiences before, I hope next time around I be able to recognise my actions before causing a reaction. I definitely learnt from my karma and also to be careful what I wish for. At the time I was wishing for abundance because at the time I needed to. But I ended up choosing material gain for self, instead of choosing love, harmony, enlightenment. Kind of proves how toxic I was at the time. Material warfare I call it, no matter how much money you want to gain, money can’t make you happy. Money is just energy like everything else. Manifestation is real and it seems like there comes consequences when you do manifest. A part of me is scared to manifest now because of this. Obviously as people know I’ve came to realise that I don’t want or need anything in my life anymore.

Which also brings me to the point of, if it wasn’t meant to be? Then it’s not meant to be. I just hope this feeling of heart break and love will go soon. Some people may call this Cowdly, I understand why. Usually I have the strength and the courage to approach, but she makes me nervous. I could also say but she doesn’t tell me this or does this. But I just can’t even justify that, I can’t even justify how I feel right now. Words can’t even describe it. I suppose a part of me feels weak, weak as in, I’ve just surrendered. I’m too tired to push, to fight anymore.

Seems like no matter what, my love is never good enough for anyone. Maybe I love to hard, maybe that’s what it is.

Either way not even to just her, I wish all my ex’s find that right person for them, who can look after them and give them the love I couldn’t provide for them. Maybe that was my

Problem, I didn’t provide enough love maybe? Maybe that’s why I’m alone....

I always worry that I’m never good enough when I know deep down I am. I know I’m different and can be difficult at times. I understand, sometimes I couldn’t stop myself though. I hope I find someone who can laugh along with me at my stupidity, maybe. Or someone who isn’t scared of me.

Well, either way, I’m back to being lonely like when I was younger. This time I’m sober. I will have to learn to embrace loneliness. I don’t mind being lonely at all, it’s just the memories and the visions that seem to haunt me.

haunt me in a good way of course, I can only surround myself with good, beautiful memories when I think of her. It’s getting to much though, I will have to stop. The thoughts are taking over my life and I can’t seem to.... please give me the strength to let go. At least, it hurts enough knowing she’s probably going off onto another journey now. I really imagined a life with her, I really thought this was it. I suppose I’ve gotten to that point now where I can’t cry as much as I used to anymore. The tears have started to hold back finally. I just need to keep learning to appreciate the past and let it go.

This has been the hardest relationship I had to let go and I wasn’t even in a relationship with her. Crazy that huh? Friendship leads to something more. The voice of her keeps replying in my ear, saying I’m more than a friend to her. I know she holds some love for me also. It’s just a sad story for two life path 9s

Two broken women who found love within each other. To them separate to become broken again, because that’s all they’ve ever known.

Again, I know she won’t be broken for long. She’s found someone just as beautiful as her, who will provide for her and give her everything I couldn’t.

Call me weak? Yes, I can finally admit I am. I spent years trying to justify myself to people. I am weak and I am tired. I just don’t have the strength inside of me anymore to keep up with love. Love has broken me, my heart feels like it’s officially broken and I realised that. I just don’t have the drive for things anymore. Unless it’s writing and music, the only things that are keeping my passion alive, but even that is holding me up by a string.

Tonight as I stick Schumann on, listening to langsam, the melody of the violin and piano dance and intertwine with each other, reminds me of the relationships I’ve had. Those times in my life it felt like it was just me and them, the feeling of nothing could get to us. It was definitely an experience I would never forget. To every and each one of them, I let fear distract me, I let jealously kill me. I hope you can forgive me for my actions, if I ever doubted, in any sort of way, I still would like to say I thank you. As I’ve learned something from each and every one of you.

Maybe I’ve turned into one of those people now that dwell about my life over classical music. Trying to seek metaphors to what once was, but that can never be found again. I shall embrace the new as it’s the ‘new’ experiences that will hold the ‘hope’ inside. The hope of release and change.

[topworldhistory]

Desperation drove ingenuity among East Germans determined to reach West Berlin.

Ida Siekmann had been holed up for days. Nine days earlier, workers had sealed the border to her country by dead of night. Three days earlier, the front entrance to her apartment had been blocked off by police.

She had committed no crime, but Siekmann was in the wrong place at the wrong time: August 1961. Her apartment building was located in what had become East Berlin, while the street, including the sidewalk in front of her building entrance was now part of West Berlin.

Siekmann wanted out, so she took a chance. She shoved her bedding and other possessions out of her window and jumped. She died on the way to the hospital. She had just become the first fatality of the Berlin Wall.

Memorial to Ida Siekmann who died after jumping out of her apartment window at Bernauer Strasse following the closure of the border between East and West Berlin. 

Between 1961 and 1989, thousands of East Germans made risky border crossings. Around 5,000 of them crossed over the Berlin Wall at great personal risk—and their attempts to do so ranged from sneaky to suicidal.

German Democratic Republic officials decided to close the Berlin border for good in 1961, spurred by a spate of defections from refugees who used Berlin’s relatively permeable border to escape East Germany. By August 1961, when officials abruptly sealed the border, up to 1,700 people a day were leaving through Berlin and claiming refugee status once they reached the west. On the night of August 12-13, 1961, workers erected barbed wire and temporary barriers, trapping East Berliners.

As Barriers Intensify, So Do Escape Efforts

At first, people used structures like Siekmann’s apartment building to escape west. These border houses had doors and windows that opened into West Berlin, and people used those buildings to escape. West German emergency personnel and others waited on the west side and helped people as they climbed through windows or jumped off of roofs. Soon, though, East German troops forced residents to move and sealed the apartment buildings along Bernauer Straße.

They soon erected a more permanent barrier through Berlin. The 27-mile-long wall was actually two walls with a no-man’s-land known as the “death strip” in between. Armed with landmines, attack dogs and barbed wire and regularly patrolled by East German troops ready to shoot and kill any would-be escapee, it intimidated most East Berliners into staying put.

But some were determined to leave at any cost. Two days after the wall was built, Conrad Schumann, an East German border guard, was photographed leaping over barbed wire toward freedom. Train engineer Harry Deterling stole a steam train and drove it through the last station in East Berlin, bringing 25 passengers to the west and prompting big changes to the railroad lines. And Wolfgang Engels, an East German soldier who had helped build the barbed-wire fences that initially separated both Berlins, stole a tank and drove it through the wall itself. Despite getting caught in the barbed wire and shot twice, he managed to escape.

GDR citizens carry only few belongings as they flee to West Berlin after it became known, that GDR is separating East Berlin from West Berlin with barbed road blocks and walls since the early morning of August 13, 1961. 

View the 18 images of this gallery on the original article

Dozens Cross the Border in Tunnels

Tunnels were another daring mode of escape, and people on both sides attempted to dig them. Many were left unfinished when their makers were ratted out; others failed because of difficult conditions. But a few were successful.

In 1962, a group of West German students assisted by an East German refugee received funding from NBC as they built a 131-foot-long tunnel beneath a factory. As part of the deal, NBC planned to broadcast a special about the tunnel and escapees. Twenty-nine people escaped through it before it was discovered. The subsequent NBC News' documentary, "The Tunnel," was originally scheduled to air on October 31, 1962 but the air date was postponed after NBC came under pressure to not escalate tensions with the Soviet Union after the Cuban missile crisis.

Another student-dug tunnel sparked the most successful escape attempt in the wall’s history—57 people escaped over the two days it was open. The well publicized escapes so shook East Germany’s secret police, the Stasi, that they installed listening devices across the death strip and monitored the ground for tunneling activity 24/7.

Desperation drove creativity as others tried to get over the border. Hartmut Richter swam across the cold Teltow Canal that separated the East German region of Brandenburg from West Berlin. It was a four-hour ordeal—and then he returned again and again to take friends west in his car trunk. Acrobat Horst Klein got over the border on a tightrope; Ingo and Holger Bethke used a complex zip line, then flew ultralight planes back over the wall to pick up their brother, Egbert.

Deaths at the Berlin Wall

But others weren’t so lucky. According to the Berlin Wall Memorial, 140 people died at the Berlin Wall or were killed there in connection with the border. Another 251 travelers also died during or after passing through border checkpoints. And “unknown numbers of people suffered and died through distress and despair in their personal lives as a consequence of the Berlin Wall being built.”

Ingenuity and desperation drove individuals and small groups to make their escapes, but it would take a massive movement to bring down the wall itself.

In August 1989, the Spitzner family became the last East Germans to escape across the wall. Three months later, massive pro-democracy protests and confusion among East German officials prompted a rush on the border and the wall that had divided Berlin for nearly 30 years. The wall was finally breached on November 9, 1989, and Germany reunited in 1990. 

from Stories - HISTORY https://ift.tt/2CnHgUM November 08, 2019 at 07:55PM

[itscentral08-blog]

Caroline Thompson

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

https://www.facebook.com/caroline.thompson

Twitter: @coralinexmaria

Instagram: @coralinemaria

THEN

How would you describe yourself in high school? Outgoing, conceited, petty, fun, a little awkward and completely irresponsible but somehow also pretty fuckin' responsible. Who were your best friends? The Tribe/Zoot Crew/G-Had – wow we had a bunch of very problematic clique names. Who was your biggest Central crush? The Sairio twins and Andy O'Neill when he wasn't being a dick. Caleb Olson. What was your favorite after school activity? Going to Chipotle with Max and letting him eat half of my burrito when he was done with his own. Describe the dumbest thing you did in high school. I did so many dumb things in high school. By far dumbest thing I did was consistently get into cars with drunk drivers. What was the most trouble you ever got in at school? I got into a milk fight with my boyfriend in the lunchroom once and got sent to MacBee. Another time I got caught faking get out of school slips, and another time I got sent to the office for wearing a crop top. Pretty vanilla honestly. How often did you bribe Maria with food so she'd look the other way when you ditched? At least once a week senior year. Who was your favorite teacher and why? Ms. Jordhal! She helped encourage my love of writing and literature. 

It's 2008, and you're in your room getting ready for school. Describe the outfit you pick out to wear in as much detail as possible. Ripped up low rise Hollister jeans with rhinestones, colorful graphic crop top, Juicy Couture zip up hoodie and UGG boots. What was your most embarrassing hallway moment? One time sophomore year a senior girl checked me into the lockers because she thought I made out with her boyfriend. I might have actually made out with her boyfriend but everyone laughed and pointed at me it was V. rude What was the most memorable thing that happened during a school dance? Technically this took place in Peter Schumann's garage but there was a giant riot/fight during the Sadies dance in '06 and lots of people got punched in the face. Did you agree with the twerk ban? Why or why not? TYRANY! ABSOLUTELY NOT. FUCK THE POLICE. Did you go to prom? Who was your date? I did go to prom both junior and senior year with Caleb Olson. I don't think he was too happy to go to my senior prom when he was a big shot college kid but he was a good sport and we had fun both years.   What were the top 3 songs on your iPod nano? Hard to Explain - The Strokes Mr. Brightside - The Killers Smart Went Crazy - Atmosphere

What was your favorite TV show? LOST Did you win any yearbook superlatives? Which ones? Were they accurate Biggest Party Animal (accurate), Biggest Gossip (accurate) and Most Likely to Marry for Money. My dating track record says that last one is completely inaccurate but I'm still taking applications for a millionaire husband. If you could go back and relive one day of senior year, what would it be and why? Maybe the day B12 came that was a wild day. How did you imagine your life in 10 years would look? I honestly had no idea. I vaguely knew I wanted to do something related to writing and that I wanted to live in a big city. But I had no real picture of what that looked like. I probably thought I was going to be Carrie Bradshaw (kill me) or something, but in general I think I was terrified by the future and had no clue what it would look like.

NOW

What do you do for a living? I'm a freelance journalist and full-time financial content strategist at a PR firm based out of NYC.

Where do you live? Chicago, IL Describe your house/apartment/room in your mom's basement: I actually just bought a two-bedroom condo in an old brick brownstone in Pilsen (southwest Chicago). It's got very high ceilings and a cute back garden. Tell us about your family (married? kids? pets? unwanted alien babies?): I live with my boyfriend, two cats and our beautiful dog, Nella Jane. Do you still hang out with any of your friends from high school? Yes! Some of my closest friends are Central peeps. How have you changed since high school? I'm much less conflict-averse, less awkward and I care a lot less about what other people think of me. I also don't drink very much anymore. How are you the same? I'm still sarcastic, outgoing and still love to talk shit. What do you miss the most about your Central days? How carefree and happy I was. I got stressed out about things sometimes but in general I was very happy and content with my life in high school. I also miss having so many friends around me all the time. What do you think your 18-year-old self would think about your life today She would probably be stoked that I figured out a way to make money writing, excited that I'd moved out of St. Paul, and happy that I'm still tight with most of my closest high school friends. I think she'd also be really proud of me for making it on my own, I remember feeling like the things I wanted were so impossible to get. I'm glad that wasn't true.

What are the top 3 songs on your phone? I realize how pretentious this sounds but I mostly listen to podcasts. That said the latest Lorde album is amazing.

What is your favorite binge-worthy show? The Good Place, Westworld, The Expanse and every cooking show on Netflix. What Central teacher do you wish you were currently friends with? Hmm, maybe Mr. Costello that dude seemed like a huge stoner. Who from high school do you stalk the most on social media? Everyone honestly. I love seeing what your lives have turned out like. Who are you most excited to see at the reunion? Again, everyone. Except a couple people. You know who you are. Just kidding!! Everyone! If you knew then what you know now, would you change anything you did in high school? I think I'd try to do everything almost the same, I loved high school. That said I'd probably try and be less concerned with what people thought of me, and expand my friendships outside of my very tight social circle. Maybe I'd relax a little more knowing things would work out, or maybe I'd get a little more active in politics if I knew what was coming in 2016, lol.

[eleganthologrambouquet-worl-blog]

Literature Spotlight Peering Into an Alien Mirror

 Literature Spotlight: Peering Into an Alien Mirror

Literature Spotlight: Peering Into an Alien Mirror

Science fiction is one of my favorite genres. I love it (and I suspect many of its readers love it) because despite its trappings of the future, good science fiction is very much a reflection of the time period in which it is written. One of Sci-Fi's major draws for me is that it can highlight and discuss social issues that might be touchy to talk about in the present day. Through the skillful use of spaceships, aliens, utopian planet colonies, and other 'flight-of-fancy' scenarios, a science fiction author can hold a mirror up to the way our current society deals with an issue by showing how their fictional society does. By reading sci-fi from previous eras, then, we can catch a glimpse of what people of that era were thinking about – and what was considered an acceptable 'flight of fancy.'

The Skylark of Space, written by E. E. 'Doc' Smith in the 1920's, included an equal ratio of women to men on the spaceship – surprising for such an early entry into the genre. However, what is not so surprising is that the women involved are cast in incredibly traditionally 'female' roles – they are the wives of the scientists who invent the spaceship, and play a very motherly role on the ship. In particular, one comedic scene shows the women in the kitchen, trying in vain to make sandwiches in zero gravity. It plays out like a Jules Verne-esque slapstick routine, with the ham and cheese floating all over the room. Tellingly for the time it was written, the only thing the women seem to feel like they can take the initiative to do is fix lunch for the menfolk.

Contrast that with the Original Series of Star Trek, first aired in the 1960's. Star Trek depicts a world where gender no longer matters – a black woman has an important bridge position as the Communications Officer, and even if her lines are mostly comprised of “Hailing frequencies open, sir,” still, nobody bats an eye at a woman doing more than just fixing lunch. Further contrast that with the Expanse series by James S. A. Corey, which began with the novel Leviathan Wakes in 2011. The second book in the series, Caliban's War, contains not one but two female main characters, a Martian space marine and an Earth diplomat. Both are in positions where they are well-respected (though they receive pushback throughout the book, but it's plot-related, not related to simply being female). Both radiate power in different ways and both are treated equally in terms of gender.

Original series Star Trek also dealt with racial tensions. Lieutenant Uhura may have been a well-respected and equally-treated bridge crew member within the context of the show, but the show's writers still received pushback from the network about her place in the story. In the 1968 episode “Plato's Stepchildren,” there is a scene where Uhura (played by Nichelle Nichols) and Captain Kirk (played by William Shatner) share a kiss, widely cited as the first example of a scripted inter-racial kiss on US television. The network wanted them to film the scene both with and without the kiss, so that they could decide later whether to air it. The actors chose to intentionally flubb every take without the kiss so that the network would be forced to air it. The story of that episode serves as a reminder that Original series Star Trek, like most good science fiction, prodded at the boundaries of what was considered an acceptable social construct at the time.

While Star Trek's society treats all races and genders equally where Earth humans are concerned, it does still get a chance to display ideas of racial tensions and play with the theme of racial equality – through the clever use of aliens. Mister Spock is a great example of this – here is an alien as First Officer of an Earth Federation starship, who frequently gets mocked and insulted by the other crewmembers for his pointy ears, his green blood, and his unusual customs. Uhura may have been indicative of what race relations could be, but Spock depicted race relations as they were. Certain episodes also dealt more pointedly with the idea of race prejudice, most notably the episode “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield,” which dealt with the last two survivors of a war-torn planet still hell-bent on destroying each other. This is the famous episode with the 'black-and-white' aliens – their feud was based on which half of their body was black and which one white. While a bit heavy-handed, it does still speak volumes about the sometimes silly things that drive us to war and the dangers of prejudice.

Caliban's War displays racial tensions as well, but in a different way – by highlighting the fact that they are all humans. When I mentioned the two female leads up there, you probably thought of them as different species – perhaps the Martian space marine was an 'alien' and the Earth diplomat was a 'human.' Well, in actuality, they are both human. In fact, the three-way war between the Outer Planets Alliance, Earth, and Mars is essentially an entirely human war – there are no aliens to speak of in the whole book (with one exception – no spoilers!). But the stark differences in lifestyle, outlook, and even physical appearance between someone born on Mars and someone born 'down the well' on Earth leads to them treating each other as aliens. You can easily see, through the diplomat's eyes, how different humans can become in different circumstances, and how these differences could lead them to fail to understand each other on a primal level.

Race and gender are not the only social issues that can be depicted in science fiction. Plenty of other issues are presented, all depending on the time period in which the work is written and the aspect of society that the author wants to explore. Caliban's War includes a scene that will stick with me for months, where the female space marine visits Earth for the first time and chats with a young barista. The barista talks about the Earth policy of having young people work for a few years after high school to make sure they like working before the government spends money sending them to college. The planet has become so over-populated that not everyone needs to work, so those who don't like working can simply go on basic support and devote themselves to leisure. For the space marine, who grew up in a colony where everyone has a place and a job to do, this concept is foreign, almost incomprehensible. By contrasting these two personalities, Corey allows us to consider the ideas of single-payer systems like free university education and healthcare from multiple perspectives, and draw our own conclusions.

This is precisely why one of my favorite recent sci-fi works is Larry Niven's The Draco Tavern. This collection of super-short stories centers around Rick Schumann, the bartender at an alien bar called the Draco Tavern. The stories are between 5 and 10 pages long on average, generally taking the form of a conversation Rick has with one or several of his alien patrons. The stories present little vignettes that bring up a question and then end, leaving the reader to think about their answer. The Draco Tavern's questions range from 'What if you could choose when you died?' to 'If a human kills an alien, should he be subjected to the alien form of punishment?' to 'Should I feel weird knowing that this alien race took samples of my DNA and are using it to lab-grow meat for their own consumption?' The beauty of The Draco Tavern is that it doesn't attempt to answer any of these questions, just present them and leave the reader to chew on them for a bit.

Science fiction may seem fanciful, with all those aliens running around on starships firing photon torpedoes at each other. But in reality, a skilled science fiction author can often tell you more about your own beliefs and opinions by comparing them to those of his aliens than you might ever get from sharing them with a therapist. I've only scratched the surface here, but this deeply personal self-searching that arises from peering into an alien mirror is one of the many things that keeps me coming back to science fiction, time and time again.

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[ricardosousalemos]

Arca: Arca

This album began long before Alejandro Ghersi became Arca. In the nascent stages of his career, Ghersi made dreamy synth pop songs as a teenager in Venezuela under the name Nurro. These love sketches, sung in Spanish and English, showcased an upbeat singing voice and brightly colored electronic landscapes redolent of Postal Service or Passion Pit. What he did as Nurro and what he now does as Arca couldn’t seem any more different. Arca’s sound is one of chaos and contortions, further defined by the unsettling visuals of morphing bodies suspended in space he made with longtime collaborator Jesse Kanda. But when Ghersi debuted his newfound (or perhaps rediscovered) singing voice on Arca, it felt like a wormhole opened up—one that connected his prehistoric past to his visions of the distant future.

“Piel,” the first song Arca released from this album, felt shockingly new. He hums at first, intimating the cadence of a bedtime lullaby, easing a listener into the song. Then, seconds later, he sings towards the heavens, and acidic drips of distortion, bass, and chorus rumble in the background. The melody feels worn and romantic, and his voice slinks along to the beat like an old prayer. Finally, the music dissolves into a puddle of oozing beats and jumbled clanks. When you listen to “Piel,” there is no question you’re hearing an Arca song. And when you go searching for the answer to why that is, you keep digging into Ghersi’s timeline, trying to figure out how he could make something that feels so ancient and so otherworldly 

The 13-songs on Arca don’t represent an about-face for Ghersi, or even a reinvention. Rather, it imagines what would happen if he intermingled the music of his past (the pop songs he made,(the Schumann and Mendelssohn he studied) with the radical noise and boundary-shattering pop he’s invented as Arca. Booming organs, mournful pianos, and classical instrumentation share space with a kaleidoscope of outré production. This juxtaposition is made even more clear by his voice, which proudly wears all of its imperfections: every cough, wheeze, and difficult breath is captured. That he’s using his voice at all is, for Ghersi, an act of time-travelling in itself. He says that his relationship with his voice on this album felt like “communing with [his] teenage self again.” He combines paradoxes and contradictions to create an experience that doesn’t feel like it’s part of our space-time continuum, but a separate universe he’s making on the fly.  

The discoveries Ghersi makes on Arca allow him to write his most relaxed and intimate songs. His work is still mysterious, but not as opaque—it doesn’t keep you at an arm’s length, instead he offers up his pleasures more readily. Take for example the three-song sequence of “Coraje,” “Whip,” and “Desafío.” “Coraje,” is the album’s simplest song—Ghersi’s take on the piano ballad. The keys plink away as Ghersi searches for notes high and low. He even sounds like he’s crying at one point—moaning and whispering—his delivery becoming more watery as he reaches the finale. Seconds later, on “Whip,” he rips you from this emotional moment with a minute-and-a-half long track that’s mostly just the sound of a bullwhip rapidly moving back and forth. Then, on “Desafío,” he channels all the pop music he’s written for Kanye, FKA twigs, Björk, Kelela, and others into a single point. It’s warm, impossibly catchy, but densely detailed. It begins with the sound of an air raid siren, but then it cracks open, and Arca unleashes this joyous synth melody and airy drums. He sounds at ease, dancing between notes as he talks about the touch of lover feeling like the kiss of death (“Tócame de primera vez/Mátame una y otra vez”—“Touch me first time/Kill me again and again”). It’s as close to a straightforward pop song Ghersi might write under the name Arca, and it’s outstanding.

Throughout Arca, Ghersi strings together moments like these, finding beauty in contrast. And it’s not just because there is something dazzling about how different each moment feels from one to the next. There’s something legible, more direct about all of this. Hearing him castigate a lover on “Fugaces” (“¿Por qué me mentiste?”—“Why did you lie to me?”) or just saying something as simple as “I miss you” on “Anoche,” is something Ghersi hasn’t done before. Some of these songs sound like they were delivered as if he was right there in the room with you. Even if he claims many of the lyrics were improvised, there is still a strong intention—he’s reaching out and offering his hand. This close-quarters proximity gives these songs a pulse, a warm human heartbeat that seemed buried in all the noise of his older songs.

Ghersi recently revealed that he chose the name Arca because it was an old Spanish word for a “ceremonial container.” Arcas are “empty spaces” that can be filled with meaning. He has never been one to believe in anything as concrete as identity or category, but there is a sense on Arca that he’s looking back at what he’s done in order to reach something else altogether—he’s filling up his box with all the best possible versions of himself: past, present, and future. It’s all for the sake of imagining a world better than the here and now. 

[ricardosousalemos]

Arca: Arca

This album began long before Alejandro Ghersi became Arca. In the nascent stages of his career, Ghersi made dreamy synth pop songs as a teenager in Venezuela under the name Nurro. These love sketches, sung in Spanish and English, showcased an upbeat singing voice and brightly colored electronic landscapes redolent of Postal Service or Passion Pit. What he did as Nurro and what he now does as Arca couldn’t seem any more different. Arca’s sound is one of chaos and contortions, further defined by the unsettling visuals of morphing bodies suspended in space he made with longtime collaborator Jesse Kanda. But when Ghersi debuted his newfound (or perhaps rediscovered) singing voice on Arca, it felt like a wormhole opened up—one that connected his prehistoric past to his visions of the distant future.

“Piel,” the first song Arca released from this album, felt shockingly new. He hums at first, intimating the cadence of a bedtime lullaby, easing a listener into the song. Then, seconds later, he sings towards the heavens, and acidic drips of distortion, bass, and chorus rumble in the background. The melody feels worn and romantic, and his voice slinks along to the beat like an old prayer. Finally, the music dissolves into a puddle of oozing beats and jumbled clanks. When you listen to “Piel,” there is no question you’re hearing an Arca song. And when you go searching for the answer to why that is, you keep digging into Ghersi’s timeline, trying to figure out how he could make something that feels so ancient and so otherworldly 

The 13-songs on Arca don’t represent an about-face for Ghersi, or even a reinvention. Rather, it imagines what would happen if he intermingled the music of his past (the pop songs he made,(the Schumann and Mendelssohn he studied) with the radical noise and boundary-shattering pop he’s invented as Arca. Booming organs, mournful pianos, and classical instrumentation share space with a kaleidoscope of outré production. This juxtaposition is made even more clear by his voice, which proudly wears all of its imperfections: every cough, wheeze, and difficult breath is captured. That he’s using his voice at all is, for Ghersi, an act of time-travelling in itself. He says that his relationship with his voice on this album felt like “communing with [his] teenage self again.” He combines paradoxes and contradictions to create an experience that doesn’t feel like it’s part of our space-time continuum, but a separate universe he’s making on the fly.  

The discoveries Ghersi makes on Arca allow him to write his most relaxed and intimate songs. His work is still mysterious, but not as opaque—it doesn’t keep you at an arm’s length, instead he offers up his pleasures more readily. Take for example the three-song sequence of “Coraje,” “Whip,” and “Desafío.” “Coraje,” is the album’s simplest song—Ghersi’s take on the piano ballad. The keys plink away as Ghersi searches for notes high and low. He even sounds like he’s crying at one point—moaning and whispering—his delivery becoming more watery as he reaches the finale. Seconds later, on “Whip,” he rips you from this emotional moment with a minute-and-a-half long track that’s mostly just the sound of a bullwhip rapidly moving back and forth. Then, on “Desafío,” he channels all the pop music he’s written for Kanye, FKA twigs, Björk, Kelela, and others into a single point. It’s warm, impossibly catchy, but densely detailed. It begins with the sound of an air raid siren, but then it cracks open, and Arca unleashes this joyous synth melody and airy drums. He sounds at ease, dancing between notes as he talks about the touch of lover feeling like the kiss of death (“Tócame de primera vez/Mátame una y otra vez”—“Touch me first time/Kill me again and again”). It’s as close to a straightforward pop song Ghersi might write under the name Arca, and it’s outstanding.

Throughout Arca, Ghersi strings together moments like these, finding beauty in contrast. And it’s not just because there is something dazzling about how different each moment feels from one to the next. There’s something legible, more direct about all of this. Hearing him castigate a lover on “Fugaces” (“¿Por qué me mentiste?”—“Why did you lie to me?”) or just saying something as simple as “I miss you” on “Anoche,” is something Ghersi hasn’t done before. Some of these songs sound like they were delivered as if he was right there in the room with you. Even if he claims many of the lyrics were improvised, there is still a strong intention—he’s reaching out and offering his hand. This close-quarters proximity gives these songs a pulse, a warm human heartbeat that seemed buried in all the noise of his older songs.

Ghersi recently revealed that he chose the name Arca because it was an old Spanish word for a “ceremonial container.” Arcas are “empty spaces” that can be filled with meaning. He has never been one to believe in anything as concrete as identity or category, but there is a sense on Arca that he’s looking back at what he’s done in order to reach something else altogether—he’s filling up his box with all the best possible versions of himself: past, present, and future. It’s all for the sake of imagining a world better than the here and now.