#Matric Rage

[sillymickel]

August 26th thru August 30th, 2024, “Psychology of Apocalypse: Ecopsychology, Activism, & the Prenatal Roots of Humanicide” by Michael Adzema is free at Amazon.

How do we become sane in an insane human world — a world that is at war with its own home, that is burning down its own house, even as it barricades itself on the couch, watching television and eating chips from plastic bags that will not decompose, and so simply adding more fuel to the inferno already raging all around.

Amazingly, in the context of a vision of humanity set within Nature, as one planetmate among all the others, and clearly having gone through a *devolution* from Nature, not an arrogant transcendence above Nature, allowing us *dominion* over it, we are seen to be quite insane.

Get your free copy for a deep understanding of what is going on and what you, and we together, can do about it.

#Earth #ecopsychology #Rainbow #deMause #ecocide #therapy #pollution #climate #climatechange #perinatal #Gaia #EarthDay #perinatal #anthropology #mythology #prenatal #PMEs #PME #Prenatal Matrices of Evil #psychology #extinction #primal

[luma-az]

Accouchement

Défi d’écriture 30 jours pour écrire, 25 août 

Thème : corbeaux/au fond de chaque mot j’assiste à une naissance

. .

Les corbeaux croassent à la fenêtre. Ils sont nombreux. Ils me regardent.

Je les salue d’un geste de la main sur le bord de mon chapeau pointu. En une soirée pareille, un brin de politesse ne nuit pas.

Puis je reviens à mon chaudron.

Un fond liquide rougeâtre chauffe tout doucement, au bain-marie, des dizaines de petites perles noires. Je surveille minutieusement le feu – la température doit rester parfaite et constante tout au long du processus. Cette tâche m’empêche de perdre ma concentration. Je ne veux surtout pas rater l’instant magique où les perles vont éclore.

Le croassement des corbeaux rythme ma nuit. Une longue nuit de patience.

Chacune d’entre elle est un mot qui m’a été offert en paiement. Les gens viennent pour mes soins, mes conseils et mes divinations. D’autres viennent pour des vengeances et des malédictions – ceux-là passent par la porte de derrière. Les uns comme les autres paient le prix juste. Parfois, ce prix, c’est un mot.

Mot, mot, répètent les corbeaux – comme s’ils savaient à quoi je pense, et peut-être est-ce le cas. Oui, j’ai pris des mots. Tous ceux qui ont éveillé mon interêt.

Un mot d’espoir ou un mot d’amour, un mot de rage ou un mot glaçant, peu importe. Tout ce que je veux, c’est qu’ils renferment de la puissance, qu’ils aient été gravés au feu rouge dans le cœur de mes clients. Ils sont parfois même ravis que je les en délivre. Parfois, un peu moins.

Je regarde mes mots chauffer avec une exquise lenteur dans le chaudron. J’entends les petits éclats de coquille qui se craquèlent avant même de voir les premières fissures. Ça y est, ça commence…

Les petites coques enveloppant les mots s’ouvrent, et au fond de chaque mot j’assiste à une naissance. Des minuscules feuilles, de tous petits yeux, des doigts microscopiques. Ces fragiles créatures ne sont encore qu’au commencement de leur vie. Ils grandiront très vite.

D’un geste précis mais doux je les sors chacun du chaudron, les essuie dans les linges les plus doux, les cajole, avant de passer aux suivants – jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient tous dans mon panier, pelotonnés les uns contre les autres, encore tout chiffonnés de leur naissance. Mes petites créatures de la nuit, nées du plus profond des cœurs des hommes, mûris dans une matrice de cuivre et du sang de leur mère dévouée. Ils sont si mignons ! Et si inoffensifs encore.

Et si affamés.

Au dehors, les corbeaux s’envolent. L’aube est là, la délicate naissance est accomplie, il faut annoncer cette bonne nouvelle à tous ceux qui peuvent l’entendre. Il ne me reste plus que la tâche triviale de les élever, mes petits monstres qui piaillent déjà à l’unisson.

Patience, mes amours, patience. Maman va vous nourrir.

J’attrape un premier livre – léger et digeste, mais généreux sur les quantités, parfait pour un premier repas – et, à voix haute, je commence sa lecture.

.

.

[atompowers]

Sonnet to Mother at the Labor Strike, Saying —

Thirsty? Want a snack? Keep going. She’s giving everything.

                                                     Checking-in and up, fighting on the line for fair contracts,

                                                     child strapped on her back. Onward organizing, encouraging,

leading new chants between nourishing. She acts

                                                     bold as fire. Righteous rage at this ridiculousness. Set aflame 

                                                     standing-up, waves of workers stomping criss-crossing chants

rising in matrices of marching against elite aims,

                                                     against wage theft, against slave wages, against union busts.

                                                     But it’s not only for coordinating crowds for contract renegotiation,

not only leading and caring and carrying

                                                     a kid, fellow workers, the world, calls against injustice and exploitation                                                     

                                                     but also blasting labor on fire whorled to burnout naturally wearying—

More Mothers come forward, consoling:

                                                     Thirsty? Want a snack? Some air? Rest now, and we’ll keep going.

READ MORE SONNETS LIKE THIS HERE

[mindmatricsmedia]

The Latest Fashion Trends: What to Wear this Season

"The Latest Fashion Trends: What to Wear this Season" explores the current fashion trends and provides insights into what to wear to stay stylish and on-trend. Here are some highlights of the latest fashion trends for the season:

1. Bold Colors: Vibrant and bold color palettes are in vogue this season. Think rich jewel tones, vibrant reds, sunny yellows, and vivid blues. Experiment with incorporating these colors into your outfits to make a statement.

2. Oversized Silhouettes: Oversized clothing is making a major comeback. From oversized blazers and chunky sweaters to loose-fitting pants and flowy dresses, embracing volume and relaxed silhouettes is on-trend.

3. Vintage-Inspired Pieces: Retro fashion is experiencing a revival. Look for vintage-inspired pieces like high-waisted jeans, polka dot prints, puff sleeves, and statement collars to add a nostalgic touch to your wardrobe.

4. Sustainable Fashion: Conscious consumerism and sustainable fashion are gaining momentum. Embrace eco-friendly materials, recycled fabrics, and ethical brands to make fashion choices that are both stylish and environmentally responsible.

5. Statement Sleeves: Sleeves are taking center stage this season. Dramatic puffed sleeves, ruffled details, and bell-shaped silhouettes are all the rage. Incorporate tops, dresses, and blouses with statement sleeves for a fashion-forward look.

6. Leather Pieces: Leather is a timeless trend that never goes out of style. This season, leather jackets, skirts, pants, and dresses are all in vogue. Opt for faux leather alternatives for a cruelty-free and sustainable option.

7. Prints and Patterns: Bold prints and patterns are making a statement. Animal prints, plaid, checks, and florals are particularly popular. Mix and match patterns or make a statement with a single bold print piece.

8. Athleisure Wear: The blend of athletic and leisurewear continues to be a trend. Sporty tracksuits, oversized hoodies, and stylish sneakers are effortlessly chic and comfortable for everyday wear.

Remember, fashion trends are a starting point for inspiration, and it's important to adapt them to your personal style and comfort. Incorporate trends that resonate with you and make you feel confident. Ultimately, the key to staying fashionable is embracing your unique sense of style while keeping an eye on the latest trends.

ReadMore

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[introspectral]

Lingering Scars || open to mutuals

{This is taking place in the Accessed Vision Verse, and Vision could be staying somewhere with your muse. It’s based off of these headcanons. | Trigger warnings for scars and body dysmorphia!}

Vision stood before the mirror, scrutinizing his appearance. There was a line on his cheek, an indentation, that should not be there. It did not smooth out with touch or with his attempts to rearrange the matrices of inorganic carbon and vibranium in his face. It was even more pronounced if he tried to employ a human disguise, the limited amount of organic matter in his body preventing him from getting the color and texture of this “flesh” correct, but now... now he was noticing these imperfections. They made him angry, and a little bit panicky.

It had been one at first, but then another, and another... until soon he had noticed five of them in total. One on his left shoulder, one on his right forearm, two on his torso, and now... this one on his cheek. How could he not have noticed it before...? 

The more he stared at this imperfection on his cheek, the more he hated it. What had S.W.O.R.D. done to him? How careless had they been with his body - his... body - that they had left behind these anomalous textures and gaps in the carbon-vibranium matrices? It was as if he was a puzzle to them, and in their frustration and haste, they had jammed together pieces that weren’t quite meant to fit together in the way they wanted. It made him angry, but more than anything, it made him disgusted with himself. He just wanted to be in control of his own body. He wanted to look normal. His normal. And he had a right to determine what that was!

With a sudden yell Vision punched the mirror, shattering it and sending shards of glass everywhere. The potent rage that coursed through him quickly degraded into embarrassment and shame as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Reverting back to his natural state - the scar was far less noticeable when he was - Vision lowered his eyes and glanced away, unable to put his feelings into words. He wanted to say something, but no words would come. Lifting his hand, he merely touched the scar on his cheek, as if to cover it from view...

[nebuleuse-mirobolante]

Brandissez ! Hissez les flaques de sang pour les detraqués

L'abolition des sangles est née 

Ce soir j'ecarlate, j'écartèle et j'éclate 

Pour les tarlouze ,les bouseux ,les gueux

Pour les handicapés et les putes

Pour les mal baisées,les trop prudes ou brutes

Les putes a crack ,celles qui s'injectent des flaques et des litres 

Les prudes,les épouses du vide et les pitres !

Pour les obèses qui ont les ovaires d'être à l'aise 

Pour les pas aisés et celles qu'on appele les mal baisées 

Brandissez ! Mouillez la justice ! Donnez de l'amour aux clodos ,toxicos et pas aux botoxés du cerveau

Ce soir la justesse nait dans les caniveaux 

Brandissez ! Hissez les flaques d'amour pour les carrefours sans chemins et les dingues sans destins et les fous du matins

A tout ces gens clandestins ,à tout ces gens sans turbin

A celui ou celle qui à retourner sa veste ,pas pour vous baiser par les fesses mais pour être à l'ouest ,dans les astres et le désastre qui conchie l'hérésie des codes ,des modéles et des modes

A celle qui ose démonter par la prose ,à toutes celles qui arrosent,explosent ,exposent et démontrent 

A celles et ceux qui osent aimer la mort et pas la montre 

 Car la si belle absurdité de l'aurore n'est qu'une chatte dans un monde où les pion se croient rois ,mordant des millions en obéissant à des fausses lois

Pour les bâtards ,les trop tardifs ,les tarés ,les taspés tordues  ,les mal branlés et baisées fendues, les illuminés perdues 

A tout les looser géniaux aux gueules de travioles,pleins de bémols ,à tout les coeurs pleins de défauts sans code ni banderole 

Brandissez ! Hurlez l'Amour !Pour les êtres trop colorées ,en colères ,tout le temps en colle à l'école ,tout le temps sortie d'une camisole 

C'est le chant des voyous hardcore ,des baltringues multicolores  ,des ringards bizarres  ,des fous mal foutus et des excentriques cosmiques 

Des trop basanés ,des trop sucrés ou des trop salé, des trop grand bazars éclopés dans le noir

C'est le chant de l'incomprise qui fait sourire une clodo juste en lui souriant sans dire un mot 

Continue à t'exploser par terre dans la rue et relève toi en dansant 

Si le sourire s'éclipse sur la piste ,soleil renaît de son sang

Entre extraterrestres c'est la révolution des passions ,des poux ,des astres fous et des morpions 

Pas besoin de came ,d'arme ,la poésie est une flamme qui encastre et castre le vide qui se fait putride devant la grandeur de l'éther et de ton coeur 

Brandissez le drapeau Rouge -Orange !Faites péter tout les murs par les cris de votre écriture !

 Brandissez ce qui dérange !

Que tu crois en Dieu et n'importe lequel ,au feu ,à la lumière de tes propres yeux ou même à une hirondelle 

Là où les costards pissent droit ,tu rentre dans le car et t'est maladroit

T'est le tocard qui pleure le crépuscule et fait brûler ta bulle 

Sortie d'hp,de zonzon ,de l'enfer du viol ,du fer d'une famille difficile , de la souffrance de l'école où de l'alcool 

 De n'importe quelle jeux de pions ou l'amertume te rend fou ou  folle 

Le fil de rasoir disparaîtra de tes bras ,TS ou  ,embrouille s'éclipsera 

Et dans le noir des déboires je te promet qu'un jour l'oiseau s'envolera 

Nébuleuse 

Moi ,mon corps et mon âme nous somme Rouge comme un tueur en série,comme l'amour et le battement du coeur de la poésie.

Nous sommes insolent et pur , l'incarnation même et souvent totale de cette Couleur.

Nous sommes les sourcils en poil de sexe dans le carnaval du trouble féministe splendide et de la provocation

Moi ,le Rouge ,je suis la saleté et l'ardeur pourtant si claire.

Je suis le triomphe des soleils voyous en pleine extase puissant.

Elle me colle à la peau .Que je l'aime avec violence et danse cette salope de couleur car elle est moi et moi je suis le crachat indécent mais aussi la générosité qui viens du sang

Je suis un cri d'amour et de folie qui tente d'atteindre l'éternité

Je suis la force ,la faiblesse ,le vice ,le délice ,la pureté ,l'oxymore ,la mort et la vie

Je suis la sale connasse artiste pleine d'humanisme explosif et de vérité ,l'excentrique trop maquillée , fringuée et pleine de pics poétiques dans les cabarets,les scènes ou les théâtres

Je suis l'insoumise ,la banquise en feu ,le coup de pied dans les couilles des banques

Je suis la démarche d'un mec bien plus qu'affirmé ,je suis l'écriture et le pot d'encre est remplie de sang quand le stylo est une seringue

Je suis le bilingue de cri et de poésies ,le flingue qui crépite de joie,la foi,la défiance ,l'extase euphorique ,l'embrasement de l'essence de l'âme

La baltringue pourtant somptueuse ,divine même si elle est hideuse et dingue comme belle et immortelle

Je suis tout les paradoxes unis dans un être qui se rassemble ,toxico à la poudre de Vérité qui est une drogue belle mais violente

Je suis le cri qui cherche Dieu

La fragilité ,la puissance ,l'amour ,la rage ,la révolution de la personnalité et des opprimés en rimes tordues

La main et le coeur tendues aux sans abris

Je suis le non ,l'opposé ,la contradiction ,l'interdiction bafouée car je ne supporte aucune règles juste celle de mon sexe

Je suis l'enfermement et la liberté ,je suis la grande joie et la colère des detraqués

Car il pleut dans mon sang et je suis cette décadence pourtant si pieuse

Car il pleure dans les sangles et j'abolit cette pisse rance avec ma nébuleuse

Car je suis la timidité et la beauté

Ce qui est fébrile ,fragile pourtant glorieux

Je suis également l'espagnole des terres chaudes,du flamenco et des urines ensanglantées de femmes sur Franco

Je suis la masturbation féminine qui fait un doigt d'honneur

Je suis la passion ,la création ,la pulsion fatale et merveilleuse qui sauve du suicide .

Je suis la peureuse trop courageuse qui ose quand même et brutalement être

Je suis la justice mais je ne suis pas la lois

Je suis ce qui jamais ne glisse en dehors de sa foi

De l'exhibition qui parle trop fort à la grande pudeur plus mystérieuse et profonde que la mort et la matrice

Le mal et le bien ,la souffrance ,la transe ,la chaleur sans limite d'un crépuscule fou et libre

Je suis ce qui brûle ,la vie et sa trop grande complexité

Je suis le taureau qui fonce sur l'exclamation de la liberté mais qui n'est qu'une poussière incomprise à la fois grandiose et si petite devant le cri de l'éternité

Nébuleuse

[claudehenrion]

L'Islamo-gauchisme - ( I ) : mythe ou réalité ?

  Le covid nous fait oublier le plus grave : la menace islamiforme permanente, et sa collusion avec les plus irresponsables de nos gauchiste, ceux qui osent prétendre que le terme “islamo-gauchiste n'a aucune valeur scientifique”, comme si leurs autres bobards (islamophobie, décolonialisme, culpabilité intrinsèque de l'homme blanc et autres stupidités) en avaient jamais eu ! Les “grandes consciences” (sans science) clament que l'islamo-gauchisme serait un mythe inventé par la droite (extrême, évidemment)… ce qui est un mensonge, comme tout ce qu’ils racontent.

Car cette arme de ‘’mass murder’’, conceptualisée sur un dévoiement de la pensée de gauche, a été revivifiée par Chris Harman, leader trotskiste du Socialist Workers Party. Il écrivait le premier, en 1994 que “les islamistes, en reprenant la vulgate anti-impérialiste, construiraient des groupes sociaux importants dont la colère devrait être canalisée vers des objectifs progressistes” (The prophet and the proletariat ).

Et en fouillant plus profond, cela fait bien plus longtemps que l’islam exerce une vraie fascinationsur les mouvements d’extrême gauche. Longtemps après que Hitler et le grand Mufti d'Al Azhar aient partagé des idées proches et communié dans leur phobie des juifs, l'avocat gauchiste Jacques Vergès (avec qui, sans du tout être “son ami”, j'avais co-écrit ’‘Des hommes et des valeurs’’ -Ed Hatier, 1994) s'était converti à l’islam, tout comme “Carlos”, le terroriste vénézuelien Illitch Ramirez Sànchez, qui avait fait de même. L'islam et le gauchisme, c'est une vieille liaison coupable, une complicité sur des doctrines mortifères. qui, chose étrange, s'excluent l'une l'autre… chacun espérant être celui qui bouffera l’autre tout cru…

L'islamo-gauchisme se définit comme un vide plein de rien, et les preuves de cette “non existence” sont nombreuses et en progression, au point que Frédérique Vidal, l'inutile et transparente ministre des universités et autres lieux de perdition  (on dit, en novlangue macronienne : “de l'Enseignement supérieur, de la Recherche et de l'Innovation”) avait demandé au CNRS ’’un bilan de l’ensemble des recherches’’ en cours en France, afin de distinguer ce qui relève de la recherche académique et ce qui relève du militantisme. Courageuse, elle avait même vu que cette pandémie-là “gangrène la société dans son ensemble, car l’université n’est pas imperméable : il y a des gens qui utilisent leurs titres et l’aura qu’ils en tirent pour porter des idées radicales ou militantes” (Oh ! les vilains !). Et d'ailleurs, “des universitaires se disent empêchés par d’autres de mener leurs recherches, leurs études” a-t-elle affirmé, ce qui a révulsé certains réseaux sociaux, car dans ce sens-là, tout est permis ! “Z'avaient qu'à faire des recherches sur ce qui nous plaît, à nous, Na !”, disent les chantres de l'ouverture… fermée au Vrai, au Bien, et au Bon –pour l'Homme.

Les prêcheurs de mort (qui se croient “insoumis” parce qu'ils son opposés à tout ce qui marche et favorables à ce qui n'a jamais fonctionné nulle part, fut-ce un tout petit peu), hurlent au loup : comme chaque fois que quelqu'un a une bonne idée, ils avalent leur dentier de rage non-maîtrisée. Faisant semblant de se demander “à quoi la ministre peut bien faire référence” (sic !), ils ont dit être “choqués par une chasse aux sorcières dignes d’un autre régime” –un des cinq ou six clichés qui leur sert d’'ersatz d'intellect. “Vous n’avez rien d’autre à faire que de lancer une police de la pensée ?”, avait osé demander la députée Bénédicte Taurine (LFI) lors des questions au gouvernement. Comme toutes les gesticulations déraisonnables de ce qui reste de ce qui fut la Gauche, tout cela  prêterait à rire si la société française n'était pas si gangrenée (mais attention ! Le truc n’est pas mort, il remue encore !).

“L'Islamo-gauchisme est une énième invention de la droite” répètent à satiété nos politicards incultes, nos faux intellectuels et nos syndicalistes engagés, la presse contaminée, les militants de gauche et des enseignants-chercheurs (on les confond : ils sont interchangeables !). Le diagnostic inverse, celui de Jean-Michel Blanquer, parle plutôt d'une “matrice intellectuelle venue des universités américaines et des thèses intersectionnelles”. Quant au philosophe Pierre-André Taguieff, ancien conseiller de Chevènement –donc pas un “frontiste” convaincu– il avait défini en 2002 ce mariage pour tous de la carpe et du lapin  comme “une alliance militante de fait entre des milieux d'extrême gauche se réclamant du marxisme et des mouvances islamistes de diverses orientations (Frères musulmans, salafistes, djihadistes), une prise de pouvoir du décolonialisme à l'Université”. Cette nébuleuse floue englobe ces féministes voilées qui ont été incapables de condamner les actes de Tariq Ramadan lors du colloque “Stigmatiser : normes sociales et pratiques médiatiques”, à Paris II, au motif que “toute critique de l'islamisme est une posture néocolonialiste” (Ah ! les belles âmes ! Les honnêtes gens ! La belle moralité !).

Dans les domaine qui touchent à la sociologie, les universitaires non contaminés sont d'ailleurs choqués par la violence de ces escouades de fanatiques très peu nombreux mais bruyants comme dix fois plus, pour qui il est inconcevable de tenir un autre discours que celui de Philippe Poutou ou de la députée LFI Danièle Obono sur les questions de laïcité. Ces minorités très actives, se dressent vertueusement contre tout ce qui ne leur convient pas, créent des bâtons de justice viraux de type “hashtag”, afin de poursuivre sur les réseaux ceux qui osent ne pas sacrifier sans limites à tous leurs fantasmes mortifères –et mensongers, cela va sans dire.

La réalité, que quelques politiques et de rares médias pas encore ravagés par cette idéologie de fin du monde commencent à entr'apercevoir, est que cela fait une bonne décennie que, dans l'ombre et avec la complicité des “pantoufles”, l'islamo-gauchisme gangrène nos universités. Sur les bancs de nos ‘’facs’’ ou dans la recherche en sciences humaines, la gauche, désormais obnubilée par le bien-être des islamistes plus que par celui des ouvriers, a mis un pied et demi dans ce cloaque dont l'influence  est grandissante dans nos universités. Un seul exemple ? A l'université Tolbiac (Paris), on assiste à une véritable bataille idéologique rangée , depuis que Jean-Michel Blanquer a nommé et pointé le péril que fait courir “l'islamo-gauchisme'’, au point que le Président ne sait plus comment camoufler sa trouille d'honorer Napoléon aussi bien qu’il le mérite… Pauvre France ! (à suivre)

H-Cl.

[student-by-day]

back-to-school tools

‘tis the season again, so here are some handy websites and browser extensions i’ve discovered over the past few years that’ll hopefully make this year a bit easier for you. i’m taking high-school-level classes, but a lot of these should help with college/uni work, too!

feel free to reblog and add your own recommendations :)

the only ones you have to install and/or sign up for have an asterisk, but note that they’re all free either way.

L A N G U A G E   A R T S

planet ebook

this is my go-to for digital (and legal!) classic literature. i download the pdf files and upload them to places like one note to annotate, but epub and mobi versions are also available if you prefer those. no need to break your back over hauling textbooks and your required readings!

audible stories

this doesn’t have the widest selection of audio books, but it definitely has its uses! there are a lot of classics on there, which could come in handy for a literature or english class.

easybib

this is the best citation tool ever. i love that i can choose which style i want to use and what kind of media i’m researching with (books, journals, websites, etc.). if i need to, i can go in and edit any (citation) category i want, but that isn’t usually necessary because it can find stats that even i can’t while looking at the source. enter some info, copy ‘n paste the works cited list to your paper, and you’re done!

i recommend the web version and not the google docs add-on because the add-on doesn’t let you customize your citations

gradeproof* or grammarly*

these are both grammar/spelling checkers that provide plenty of stats, which are most useful for speeches. you can use these to see your character count, word count, number of sentences, syllables per word, words per sentence, readability, grade level, reading time, speaking time, etc.

wordcounter

this is a great alternative if you can’t/don’t want to install gradeproof or grammarly.

powerthesaurus

this is my go-to thesaurus... it has a ton of features if you go on the website (it’s not just for synonyms, though those are seemingly endless!). plus, if i don’t want to open a new tab, i can use the extension in my toolbar to see a brief list!

just a word of caution: look up any words you don’t know (because if you go far enough down the list, they’re not completely relevant anymore).

onelook

i use this reverse dictionary to find the word that’s on the tip of my tongue but i just can’t name (though it has a lot more features than that!).

cueprompter

this is the perfect teleprompter for any speeches you need to record (maybe for an online graduation? a virtual debate?).

xodo*

this is a great digital annotation tool (right in your browser) for those of you who don’t have an app like goodnotes on your ipad. you can upload files from your google drive, your device, or dropbox and draw on them, type notes, add comments, highlight, choose different underline patterns, add shapes/arrows, etc. all while customizing opacity, thickness, and colors. you’re also able to zoom in/out, change page width, rotate the page, change your layout (pdf, book, magazine), and choose a transition style.

A R T

canva*

i love this site to death---if you haven’t heard of it yet, what are you doing?? i can design everything from a resume to a powerpoint to a school dance flyer on this thing! there are beautiful templates to choose from, but if that’s not your thing (it isn’t mine either), then there are millions of photos, doodles, graphics, fonts, borders, backgrounds, etc. to choose from. plus, you can even upload your own content. (i designed the header for this post on there!)

F O R E I G N   L A N G U A G E S

typeit

i hate having to remember all the keyboard shortcuts for special characters, so i just copy and paste from this international keyboard. choose a language, and you’re good to go. :)

audible stories

did i put this in two different categories? yes. audible stories has free audio books in english, spanish, french, german, portuguese, italian, dutch, and japanese! i recommend finding a children’s audiobook on there in your target language and pulling up an ebook online so you can improve your listening and comprehension skills. there’s no need to download any content, and it still saves your spot (even once you close the tab), which is a lifesaver!

duolingo*

i think we all know by now that this site is good for practicing your sentence-writing skills and gaining a little extra vocab. keep in mind that this only helps if you take notes on your mistakes and type answers out yourself as opposed to mindlessly clicking through multiple choice questions! duolingo stories are also great for working on your listening comprehension skills and some immersion.

linguno*

i use this site for conjugations because that’s its main asset, but there are other things you can look into if you like. i love that i can choose a section and a level (ex: a1 level one, a1 level two, a1 level three, etc.) or add my own list of words. the rest is super customizable too! you can also choose which tenses you want to work on and what set of pronouns you want to focus on (for example, european spanish uses “vosotros” while latin american spanish does not).

S C I E N C E

molview

build your own molecules or search ones that already exist to explore what they’re used for, their structure, their composition, 2-d/3-d models, formulas, molecular weight, etc.

ptable

this dynamic periodic table has a million features for each element, which makes it perfect for researching and figuring out why the table is laid out the way it is.

phet

this is basically a virtual stem lab---atom-builders, circuit-builders, wave simulations, and interactive tools galore! it covers physics, chemistry, biology, math, and html5, though i’ve only used first three categories, so i can’t exactly recommend the others.

M A T H

geogebra or desmos

these babies are graphing tools perfect for checking functions and all that jazz (they’re basically the exact same except geogebra has a couple more bells and whistles).

symbolab

use this to check your answers and review the steps if you’re stuck! when it gets into some nitty-gritty stuff, you have to have the paid plan to see some of the steps, but i think it’s helpful enough that you can stick with the free version. it covers pre-alg, alg, pre-calc, calc, functions, matrices & vectors, geometry, trig, stats, physics, chem, finance, conversions, etc. (i use this to avoid silly mistakes and the ixl rage that follows haha).

mathway*

this is very similar to symbolab except that it doesn’t show any steps at all unless you pay for a plan. you can use this for basic math, pre-alg, alg, trig, pre-calc, calc, stats, finite math, etc. as a cross-checker in case symbolab is being funky.

[abcsofadhd]

On being diagnosed with ADHD in midlife

@campfiresbeerandcoffee got diagnosed with ADHD in their early 50s and I asked them to share their story. 

It’s kinda long but its a damn interesting read about a person’s experience with ADHD and a late diagnosis. It’s VERY well written and I’ve only spaced it out and bolded it for better readability.

Remember, it’s really NEVER too late to get a diagnosis.

I’ve known people with ADHD most of my life. I knew what it was, obviously. It was that boy who was socially inappropriate and weird, the one who got angry too fast, who touched oddly, who couldn’t sit still. 

It was the squirrel brained women I knew, that changed jobs, were super smart, had multiple competencies and could instantly grasp systems, but had so much drive they were always up, always working, always learning. It wasn’t ME.

It didn’t even occur to me that I had ADHD. I wasn’t a problem. I sat quietly in class, lost in my own thoughts, doodling. I could focus for hours on books, on coding, on the grains of sand on a sunny beach. I certainly didn’t have an attention disorder. 

My dad died in my 2nd year of uni. I didn’t do well. Well meaning counselors said I was high strung and should avoid all sugar and stimulants. Are you kidding? Caffeine kept me sane. Eventually I changed majors, and managed to graduate with a BA.

I even managed to get into grad school, and did entrepreneur things too. But eventually I crumbled again and didn’t finish my thesis. I had anger issues. I was high then low. I would rage and weep. I’d spend weeks in apathy, when I had everything I wanted: a business, a wife, wonderful family. But it was a long dark bleak tunnel every day.

Then I heard a radio show on chronic depression and recognized my symptoms. Got some help and medication, and managed to co-found a company.  The anti-depression meds helped, settling on Wellbutrin eventually. But things were still hard.

I got a straight job to help my wife start her career. I worked in an office, coding and structuring information systems. Prestige, recognition, it was great for my ego, good benefits and fair pay. 

10 years in this high performance position I crashed from accumulated stress when my mom died. I was prepared with Wellbutrin and counselling and even so I burned out with major depression and anxiety and ptsd symptoms.  

Took 3 years off work before I dared to take a job with minimal responsibility. In that time I had full on major ADHD symptoms but didn’t recognize them. I couldn’t say what I did all day. 

I couldn’t make a list, couldn’t go in the store. Couldn’t read. Couldn't feed myself. Couldn’t clean. Couldn’t listen. Just- floated in a fog of stress and anxiety. Developed skin issues, auto-immune issues, insomnia, eye twitches. Couldn’t even sit at a computer screen. I was completely useless. Couldn’t leave the house.

Eventually tho, as I worked through what I thought was PTSD, learning to accept the new broken me, I was able to watch a full 20 minute sitcom. Success! I was elated. Who could I tell? Who would celebrate that as an achievement? Yay, you watched TV? Pffft. 

But I was thrilled. And I could go to the store. Maybe even buy a few things. Often I’d just sit in the parking lot. But increasingly I could do some things around the house. Walk the dogs. Buy milk. So I accepted when opportunity offered me a lower-stress job related to my interests.

At my new job, I learned to make eye contact again, slowly re-learned to do simple math again. Cashing out would take me over an hour. I tried so hard to remember names and orders. Failed miserably. Tried to accept the new no-brain me. Found comfort in routine tasks. Developed coping strategies for memory. Accepted that maybe my purpose was to be a heart not a brain. My whole self-worth was always being the smart expert. Now I was busted. But that was ok, because it had to be! 

Medicated with prescription cannabis and started seeing big improvements in depressive symptoms. That led to being able to exercise. Exercise helped immensely. So I was bringing in a bit of money, I was leaving the house and interacting, and felt much better.

Met a co-worker who told me about her ADHD. I understood completely. Had my first “a-ha!” moment when someone asked me how was it that  I understood her. Oh. OH! Other people don’t understand her, and I do. Why?

But, I couldn’t be ADHD, surely? My coworker was classic ADHD in the way I then understood it. Changing topics all over in conversation, but I’d follow right along? We’d chat for hours after work. I grew to admire her strategies for getting things done, her tenacity, her acceptance that she could do things differently. 

And as I admired her force-of-nature engagement with the world, her acceptance of herself, I started to be open to the idea that there was more to ADHD than I thought. I really didn’t think I was ADHD, but how was it I could understand and keep up with her? And when I asked her about it, she looked at me like of course I probably had ADHD, and she thought I already knew?

So after working with her for 2 years I started to read about ADHD, because I was experiencing a little less stress and could focus to read again. But I hadn’t found out yet about the emotional dysregulation. I just knew I was functioning again, kinda. And so I embraced the feelings. I chased them, like an addict, seeking to feel good again.  

And boy did it feel good to let myself feel. I’d learned to build a box around my emotions, because I was always too sensitive, too happy, too sad, too worried. At my coding job, I just lost myself in matrices and code and denied my emotions.  My coworkers had affectionately called me Mr. Roboto. That hurt. But that was the old me. Now, I was going to LIVE and FEEL HAPPY, and it was great. I was elated. 

I partied and made new friends and drank too much and got stoned too much and talked too much and in my exploration  I left such wreckage around me. I was oblivious at first. But when I saw what I’d done, I was in torment. If I couldn’t be a brain, and I couldn’t be a heart, then what good was I? I desperately wanted to be ordinary, but I didn’t know how, and I was going to lose everything.

And then as I tried to get a handle on my behavior, some ADHD memes popped up on social media, and then they popped up with a funny story and I related. And again. And again. And I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Your blog specifically woke me up to the emotional dysregulation aspect, and following that thread of research made my likely ADHD undeniable. So I did the predictable thing and denied it for another year.

Finally I went in for assessment because if I had it, I couldn’t let my kids go untested and if I was going to ask them to try, I had to start with me. Doc didn’t even blink. Basically said, of course you have ADHD. 

This has been everyone’s reaction, when I share my diagnosis with my friends: “Are you really surprised, really?” Yes, dammit, I am! It’s surprising and hard to hear, yes, you are in fact broken. But it’s also freeing. I can stop beating myself up.  I can get appropriate help. I can try meds.

I am terrified of stimulants, because I’m super sensitive to caffeine, and even Wellbutrin was unsustainable for me, causing too much jitters. But I’m taking my Vyvanse and being hopeful. If it doesn’t work out, there is a non stimulant option.

 I know meds won’t solve everything. I know that I have so many of the strategies already, I recognize them in the ADHD forums, and books. But maybe meds will leave me enough energy to address things. Maybe I’ll be able to Get Things Done.

This medicated hopeful happiness does feel a bit like mania, I’ve learned to be distrustful of my happiness. But if it’s going to be helpful, I’m going to try it.  It’s early days.

I’m reading Gina Petra’s Is It You, Me, or Adult ADD? Stopping the Roller Coaster When Someone You Love Has Attention Deficit Disorder. And it’s wrenching. I knew my latest crisis was hard on my family, but I didn’t realize it’s been the whole marriage, it’s been my whole life, school, college, career, midlife! It’s enlightening but hard to read testimonials from people living with untreated ADHD partners, and recognize myself in their stories. I had no idea of the extent ADHD was contributing to my personality and behavior.

My wife and kids deserve to be off the rollercoaster. I also deserve to be happy. I want to look forward to each day again instead of waking up knowing I’m going to fuck up again.

So it’s not a comfortable place to be, here in the spotlight. But it sure as hell beats being in the dark and blindly flinging myself in a new direction. It’s revealing. It means taking personal responsibility. 

But it also means hope. Hope that it can be better. Hope I can stop hurting the people I love. Hope I can be the person I want to be, the person I’ve been on occasion. It means hope for sustainable stable relationships and jobs. 

[corey-067]

The Supposed Bitter End

CWs for Combat, blood, and mild dismemberment description. A snippet from a personal project. Characters, settings, and content are my own. Didn’t exactly have anything ready to go for Valentines, and I know this is a bit late, but here’s a thing.

The muses inform me that this story will either go best friends > Enemies > Lovers, or it’ll end with the characters holding onto the loyalties they’ve been indoctrinated with, and they will be the ones to end it all, for one another. I don’t even know which way it’ll go yet, so your guess is as good as mine! ---

The sound of weapons clashing drowned out the creaking of well-worn leather, of the scrape of boots against the stony ground, the unstable power matrices energizing the already deadly armaments they wielded. They were torn between duty, honor, love. Very little in their lives had been of their choosing, and if they destroyed one another here today, then a choice that had seen them suffer endlessly for each other would come to mean nothing. In another life, they would've been side by side, but despite their best efforts, they found themselves forced against one another, time and again. A perfect match, Gwen could read him, anticipating his strikes just as easily as Darian could hers. The battle had raged for what felt like hours, the pair only disengaging to deal with anyone who attempted to take advantage of their focus.

It was possible to see the slips, the weakening of technique as tired muscles tried to keep up with the intensity of the combat. His sword dropped from his grasp, burning into the desolate plane, which had become a grave for thousands of soldiers. He was dead, and he knew it, but she hesitated. A shimmer of green energy engulfed his exhausted form, and as though she'd been waiting for it, she struck. Power fed energy, his hands the only thing between life and death. With all the effort he could muster, he surged the otherworldly energy that surrounded him through her weapon, causing a detonation that landed both of them on their backs. A piece of energy-infused metal burned its way up his forearm, scarring it instantly.

Sounds of pain echoed through them as their aching bodies struggled to their feet. Darian's heavy right boot crunched into stone and ash, finding purchase as he attempted to rise, while Gwen hauled herself to her feet with far less difficulty. The detonation had wiped their masks, so they had retreated to reveal the exhausted faces that they once protected.  

He focused, shimmering green, a trickle of blood escaping from his nose as his connection to the Otherworld stabilized him momentarily, and emerald eyes rested on her azure ones, filled - as they often were - with a passionate intensity he had never seen matched in anyone else. "Even had I bested you," he breathed, voice barely carrying over a wind which echoed with the howl of a thousand souls, "I wouldn't have been able to kill you."

His statement caused a gentle smirk to rise on Gwen's lips as her own energy field shimmered a soft turquoise sheen around her. Reaching down, she retrieved his sword, which by all accounts should've burned her alive, though it appeared as comfortable in her grasp as in his own. "If you're granting last requests... would you sing for me, one last time?"

A chuckle swept through her before the rapid crunch of sprinting boots caught Darian's attention, as one of his men leaped high into the air, a long dagger poised in his fist to strike at Gwen's exposed back. In an instant, Darian knew how she would react, his gaze revealing her enemy, but with the fatigue that plagued them both, he wasn't sure it would be enough. He could attack either of them, but Darian wouldn't let anyone else kill her.

The pressure in his head was all-but unbearable as he focused everything he could muster, a swirling vortex of green energy sweeping across the surface of Gwen's barrier, the would-be assassin striking it, blade first, the alloy shattering with the sound of broken glass as he rebounded hard, crumpling beneath the strength combined of their combined defenses. A loud, crackling swing and Darian's sword found its deadly mark, striking clean through flesh and bone, the way so many had fallen before.

Though for the first time, the weapon was in someone else's hand.

A gentle rumbling grew beneath their feet as Gwen strode boldly over, gripping his forearm and hauling him to his feet. "You earned that song," she muttered, planting a soft kiss on his bruised cheekbone. His lips turned to hers almost desperately, and they tasted a bliss that had been denied them for years, one which they no longer thought possible. "But perhaps we should sing later?" Their eyes scanned the horizon, the haze given off by the approaching vehicles growing closer.

"Together?" He smiled softly, suppressing a wince.

"Together."

[sarafinamagazine]

Genna Gardini is a writer and teacher. She is the author of Matric Rage, which was published in 2014 by uHlanga Press. In 2012, she was awarded the DALRO New Coin Poetry prize and was chosen as one of the Mail & Guardian’s Top 200 Young South Africans for 2013. She is also the co-founder of Horses’ Heads Productions and has had several of her plays produced at the National Arts Festival including WinterSweet and Scrape, both of which went on to win Standard Bank Ovation Awards. In addition, she also works as the poetry editor of Prufrock Magazine, a journal in which her own work has featured.

Who or what inspired you to pursue a career in the arts?

I don’t know that it was necessarily a person. My parents are wonderful but I suppose are quite “normal”…whatever that means. My dad is an accountant and my mom was an administrator. She started working from home and she took care of me when I was a kid. So the arts are not a world that they are necessarily steeped in. I guess I came out quite precocious. I don’t really know why. I always wanted to be a performer and I always wanted to write. I was always doing both. When I was about nine or ten, I wrote fan fiction about myself: It was about me going to New York and becoming the understudy for Annie. But then, in the story, the lead actor became ill so I took over and took the town by storm. I was fairly narcissistic, I guess, which hopefully I am not now.

I read in an interview where you said that you wrote your first collection when you were six or seven years old?

The Shnozzcumber. I think I had been reading a lot of Roald Dahl poems at the time because they were pretty much a complete knock off of his work. There was a character called Nurse Betty who I had made up. It was before the Renée Zellweger movie that was called Nurse Betty as well. In this poem, I wrote something like, “Nurse Betty is a violent thing, upon her finger sits a ring.” but I had spelt upon as ‘apone’. I don’t know where I got that image from. My mom watched a lot of soap operas, like a lot of The Bold and the Beautiful, so maybe it was a character who I had seen in one of those?

Photo credit: Chris de Beer

You seemed to have this natural inclination towards writing but then also wanted to pursue a career as a performer and went to the University currently known as Rhodes. What was your time like there?

It was actually quite a difficult time for me. I was struggling with various things that made it difficult. But I’m really glad that I was there during that time because I met the people who I work with still to this day and the people who are my dearest friends. The greatest thing is to find your community. I found people that I wanted to work with and who really changed my life in a lot of ways. I was also taught by amazing people. Janet Buckland was a really important teacher for me and one of the first people to be interested in the work that I wanted to create and encouraging of it. Alex Sutherland was also my teacher there and Andrew Buckland and Reza de Wet as well. She was teaching at the time that I was there and was such an important presence to meet and to be taught by. To hear about her work and then also to see her work as well was incredibly important. A very important three years of my life but also tumultuous in its own way.

How do you feel that training has lent itself to the work that you do now?

I decided not to pursue performing because I realised that what I wanted to be a part of was less the magic of performance but more the moments before anyone sees anything. The secret of performance and the community that is created there, that to me was so much more interesting. I was writing my own stuff and, in third year, started to put on my own work. Suddenly to see my words and my ideas animated in front of me with real people saying them was quite revelatory. I became more interested in that. I was always writing. That was something that felt natural to me and performance felt like a pathway into creating work. I think that I’m always going to be interested in live performance. It’s always the base of what I want to do with writing because I think that writing should be performed in some way. I think that when you write something, you need to hear what it sounds like to see if it works. If you don’t hear the rhythm of it then it’s dead. It’s flat.  I teach within a drama department because the world of drama and the world of theatre is one that I feel very at home in. Even if that is not necessarily the work that I am producing all of the time, it definitely is a space that I feel very comfortable in.

Photo credit: Chris de Beer

I watched Performance Scale, the piece that you did with Amy Louise Wilson and I thought it was incredible to hear your words through an actress’ portrayal. What was it like creating that piece with her?

That was a project for the ICA. I knew that I wanted to make a larger work about diagnosis and I had written this poem which was about my diagnosis with Multiple Sclerosis. I asked Gary Hartley who is in the company Horses’ Heads Productions with me and also one of my besties, if he would direct it and I asked Amy if she would be in it. It was really important to me that it be performed, shot and made by people who had some relationship to MS. And obviously they have a relationship to it because I’m their friend and they love me. It’s something that has affected my life but it’s also affected theirs. That was really important to me because I was starting to research what would eventually become part of my PhD project, looking at people telling their own story of sickness through performance. With MS, when people who do not have it tell stories about those who do, often specifically women, it’s mostly stories of inspiration or stories where we are a great burden to others. So either we burden people or we inspire them and, in many of these stories, we die at the end and our death is this great lesson to everyone else. This is not my experience of illness. I’m at home, I’m watching Buffy, I’m eating pizza. I don’t think that I am a great inspiration to anybody. These are not the stories that I had experienced so I thought that it was quite important for this project to be an opportunity to tell stories about MS and to tell them through the perspective of people who actually have it or people who are affected by it. Not in terms of MS being this horrific burden on them, necessarily, but in a real and complex way. That is why I asked Gary and Amy to work on it with me because they are creatives who I really trust, respect and admire. I’ve worked with Amy repeatedly and I love and respect her so much. I think she is an extraordinary actor. We sat down with the text and spoke about it, which I really like doing, tried to figure out what the different parts of it meant, what the secrets were that were embedded into it, to give her an understanding that she could take into the performance. What I thought was really interesting about how she performed the poem, is that it is so different to the way that I would read it because, of course, it means something different for her. I think it’s emotional for her in a different way and for me, when I read it, I find the situation sometimes funny and ridiculous and all of that goes into it. Obviously that is not her experience of it at all and to see that made manifest in the video was quite interesting. This is also something that I am trying to explore now in my studies but we’ll see how that goes.

I’m curious about your writing process. Are you someone who has to force yourself into a routine of writing everyday or do you write when inspiration strikes?

No, it’s a routine. It has to be a routine. I think it was quite different for me when I was younger but certainly, as I’ve become older, it has to be a routine. I teach, I am studying as well and I am trying to write my own work at the same time. I have to have a certain amount of hours that I set aside to do each thing and then there is also the admin, the work that comes with having a chronic illness as well which is something that is a part of my life and something that I need to allocate time to. Luckily, I am in a position right now where my health is not necessarily something that takes whatever time it wants from me. But that could change and it it is the case for many people who have chronic illness. I try to stick to my schedule as best I can. I don’t know how good I am at it but I have to force myself into doing it or I just won’t get anything done.

Photo credit: Chris de Beer

Do you work on one thing at a time or do you have multiple pieces of work in development at once?

Generally, I have to have a couple of things going on but not of the same magnitude. I have to have a poem or something that I am figuring out, that is percolating in me, and then, at the same time, I have to have another kind of work happening. I need to know that, “Ok, I’ve got to do this for my work as a lecturer or I’ve got to do this for my studies as well or I’ve got to do admin.”  I think that I need to have quite a lot going on but at the same time, I also need to zone in and focus. It does not work out all the time, quite rarely actually but I guess this is my ideal of how I would work. I’m not always successful at it, though.

I think it’s safe to say that you are incredibly young and have accomplished so much in terms of the work that you have produced…

I don’t know about either of those things. I’m turning 32 this year and my great panic and joy around it is that I’m going to be the age that Lorelai Gilmore was at the beginning of Gilmore Girls. When I started watching that show, I was 16, the age that Rory, her daughter, was. Now I’m going to be the age that Lorelai was. Lorelai had a child, was a manager of an Inn, had a fiancé who packed a town full of flowers for her at 32. I do not have quite a few of those things.

But she didn’t have a book published! I think you’ve one-upped her in terms of that.

Thank you. I think that’s probably the only thing.

Photo credit: Chris de Beer

What was the journey around having Matric Rage published? I was also wondering if maybe you can talk a little bit about the independent publishing game.

There were a collection of poems I had been writing from when I was around 18 to when Nick Mulgrew asked me if I would be interested in publishing it. I had wanted to make something out of them for ages and had sent them off in various iterations but at those times they weren’t ready to be a collection yet. By the time Nick asked me if I was interested, I think that it was a point where I was ready to try to make something out of the work. Also, Nick is somebody that I trusted and thought was a good person to work with and he has become someone who I’ve worked with repeatedly since. That was the time when he was starting uHlanga. The first three books that he would publish were by me, Thabo [Jijana] and himself. It was really exciting to be in the first flush of what uHlanga would become, of this publishing company that I think has really changed the face of poetry and publishing poetry in South Africa. I think that we came from a tradition of South African poets who were published often being older white men, although of course Modjaji press, which is so fantastic, was putting work out specifically by women. I think uHlanga really exploded old, confining ideas about publishing poetry and challenged it in an important way.

Your first collection was met with such a positive response. Did you suddenly feel pressured after having that work published?

That is not how it felt. It was exciting to have it published and exciting for it to be in the world, but it also felt like work. Which is not to say that people’s positive responses aren’t important because of course they are. I’m human and like anyone else I like affirmation, it’s great. That can’t be the point though. It can’t be because if that becomes the point then the work is all about that and then the work is empty. But I don’t know how to really answer that question. I do think that if you realize you have kind of a platform, no matter how small, you should think about what you are going to do with that platform and how you can use that in some way to be helpful in this world which is already such a bad world. With Nick, he used his platform to create this publishing company that is doing such amazing work. I am so admiring of it and I think that is a good template for how to be in this world as a creative.

Photo credit: Chris de Beer

How do you ensure that you stay true to your voice in terms of the work that you create?

I guess it’s been different at different points in my life. I can only really speak about this point and how I’m thinking about what I am making now. I want to make work that is in some way relevant to what is happening in the world now, but specifically what my experience of the world is. The work that I am doing now is very much about looking at illness, looking at autobiographical performances around illness and a reclamation of stories about people’s personal experiences of illness. This is because, like I was saying, I think those stories are so often told as inspiration porn. It’s certainly not my experience and, I’d imagine, not the experience of all of the complex, interesting people who I know who have chronic illness, who are disabled. I am interested in telling my stories but also facilitating people telling their stories.  That is the thing about teaching, as well. How can you facilitate space where a person feels they can tell their story?.

What advice would you have for young women who are thinking about embarking on a writing career?

I never know how to answer this. I am never sure. I guess, to trust the fact that it’s alright for you to be telling your story if it is not hurting anyone who didn’t hurt you in the first place, if you know what I mean. We often don’t trust that we have the space to be able to do that. Like I said, I am terrible at answering this question. I am not sure except to say, if you want to write and you want to be making that work and it is not harming people, then why not? Why not try?

What was the best piece of advice you received during your career?

It’s not advice that I received personally but the quote, “Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.” I think it’s Doris Lessing. That always stuck with me because so often it just feels like there is no time to be able to do something. That is something that I carry with me all the time because if I don’t do it now then I probably wont do it, so I should just do it now. I tell this story quite a lot but when I was doing [my] undergrad, Reza de Wet was taking us for a practical class in drama and she let all of us start walking across the stage in front of her. Then we would walk in front of her by ourselves. She watched us and said where she felt the power centers in our bodies were. I felt very weird and awkward about doing it, but I did it and afterwards she told me that I had two power centers: one that was in my groin and one that was in my throat, and what was in my throat was blocking me being able to say things that I needed to say. I was so scandalised when she said that. My groin?! I felt very shy but it really was some of the best advice I have ever received, unplugging whatever was there and feeling like I should say the things that were in me and that had to be said.

  I’d love to hear more about your involvement with Prufrock.

We are busy finalising the new issue which is really exciting. I had some poems published in that magazine before and then they asked me later to come on board as the poetry editor. That was something that I was beginning to be really interested in, editing poetry, and I’ve worked for uHlanga as well as an editor. So, I began to work at Prufrock and it’s been such a fantastic opportunity. It’s a great space for people to begin to try sending out work and see that work published. It’s questioning the idea of what a literary journal is and trying to make something that is younger, more inclusive in terms of languages being published in those spaces, and allowing more voices to be anthologised.

Who are some South African women in the arts that inspire you?

I had really good teachers. Specifically, Gay Morris [and] Sara Matchett at UCT, who were the first teachers to really encouraged me in terms of scholarship and challenged me in a lot of ways as both a young person in academia and as a human being, as well. I am so admiring of people like Nadia Davids, Buhle Ngaba and Koleka Putuma who are theatre-makers but are writing work in other mediums as well. Nadia is someone who I really admire as an academic, as well. Amy Louise Wilson, who I’ve spoken about, is such an important talent and also such a strong, feminist voice and not afraid to say what she thinks. I would be remiss if I didn’t add that it’s really important for us to be celebrating women and it’s also important to remember gender non-conforming folks who are so incredibly talented. It’s vital for us to be mentioning them within feminist spaces [and] within queer spaces as well.

You can follow Genna via Twitter or Instagram.

To purchase a copy of Matric Rage, please click here.

Special thanks to Chris de Beer and Genna Gardini.

All photos were taken by Chris de Beer on February 8th 2018.

Sarafina Magazine and Chris de Beer maintain copyrights over all images. For usage or inquiries, please contact us.

We chat with @gennagardini about her career, publishing #MatricRage with @uHlangaPress, editing @prufrockmag and turning the same age as Lorelai Gilmore. Photos: @chrs_debeer Genna Gardini is a writer and teacher. She is the author of Matric Rage, which was published in 2014 by…

[photon1963]

L’Hêtre et le néant

Revenir à la source du vent et de la mer

Retenir son souffle jusqu’à la fin de l’hiver.

La vie à ses montagnes où l’arbre vit.

Le solitaire raconte le ciel et la terre

Qui se rencontre à travers lui.

Peu importe le sol qui l’a vu naître

C’est l’astre solaire qu’il veut connaître.

En perpétuelle lutte contre la chute,

Les bourrasques hurlent leurs courants d’air 

Et la dispute le met en rage �� hirsute,

Il se déploie en équilibre.

Par la contrainte se sentir libre

Car vivre la nécessité en funambule

C’est ressentir de toutes ses fibres

La vitale sève qui s’égaille en amour bulles.

L’infini n’est pas un paradis

Et l’au-delà n’a rien d'un pare pluie.

L’ours anachorète et l’aigle éperdu

Vivent le présent qui naît d’ici.

La vie sauvage sait le divin perdu, 

Les éléments sont notre seul bien,

S’accoupler sans en posséder rien

Est la condition sine qua non

D’unir la matrice au genre humain.

Dans une diversité qui bouillonne,

Le charme se respire et le désir s’époumone.

2019 - AD-mettons la vie de tempête

[virovac]

Musings on Transformers Factions

The Decepticons philosophy reminds way too much of the, darker more logically consistent internet creeps for me to want to root for them like some fans do. 

I mean the autobots are ableist to anyone not an ally or in their ranks (see the empties; selective compassion there) but the Decepticons are just as bad in such cases,  or likely even intentionally encourage bullying so the victims take their rage on the enemy. 

Still I’d like to see a human ally call out the autobots on this for once in one of the series.

I still think that in our current political environment I’d prefer the autobots and decepticons starting out as independent revolutionary movements that disagreed heavily on the new directions to take society in , rather than the autobots startig out as a police force or the status quo.

Would also like to see the Matrix of Leadership not respected by everyone due to religious differences (they belong to a church that says the original was destroyed or that sort of thing; personally I like the idea there were a lot more matrices in the past but some bad things happened); they respect Optimus and not his title of prime.

[nebuleuse-mirobolante]

Comme la serviette hygiénique pourrie et puante d'une clodo

Pour elle je réclame justice !

Comme la tête sanglante et amnésique du taureau

Pour lui je clame leur vices !

Comme une chatte crucifiée car elle ose être libre de saigner ,comme un crâne de taré qu'on à éclaté contre un mur car trop éveillé 

Ça saigne dans mes poèmes crus qui crient la crue cruelle du déchirement des veines 

Rouge comme l'Amour et le drapeau diapré de Sang ,des femmes martyr qui ont la haine 

De la cire brûlante aux flammes brûlantes de désir 

Du viol de ces dames qui hante leur soupir 

Comme la douceur écarlate ,comme la douleur et la joie de ma prose qui t'éclate et t'explose 

Les flow ne sont pas contrôlés,c'est trash comme de la mort aux rois pour l'aurore des rats

Rouge comme la vérité qui effraie l'enclume de la société 

J'aboli le bitume ,à travers le cri de folie de ma plume  

Là où les nébuleuses se baisent à l'aise entre elles ,là ou les gueux merveilleux mettent mal à l'aise 

Le Rouge de la vie combat le Vert du dollar aux odeurs de cadavres plus violentes qu'un cocard 

Écoute le Rouge ! Rouge des comas volcaniques et des transes cosmiques se débattant dans nos corps 

Entre le bien et mal ,le malin et l'abyssal souffle Divin qui cri au fin fond de la mort

Justice pour les timbrés bancals à qui ont veux mettre des codes barres car trop barrés 

Justice pour les êtres qui refusent leur fenêtres d'âme enfermés dans une lettre 

Osons être sapé comme des clowns ,des dissidentes sorties de cartoon transcendant !

Comme un bouton sur la foufoune qui ose devenir fleur de printemps 

Justice pour les femmes assaillies,violées ,battues,tuées dont même le nom à été pendue

Rouge comme l'Amour d'une rose trop excentrique qui ose vouloir épouser le ciel

Rouge comme les détours hors de toute  autoroute affirmant ne pas être grises mais vermeilles 

Rouge comme le premier baiser d'un Arc en ciel

Rouge comme l'érable du Japon et le sable trop brûlant des passions

Rouge comme la table qui accueille toutes les danses même celles qui tournent pas rond 

Rouge comme une main tendue à celle 

d'un autre humain 

Une main qui oublie sa différence,sa puanteur ,sa folie 

Une main qui est pas jolie ,pleine de souffrance et pas très polie 

Rouge comme ce qui nous unis,détraqués ,baltringues mais bilingues de poésie,hérétiques cosmiques ,religieux psychédéliques non fanatiques ,noir,blanc ,chinois,homosexuel,transgenres ,putes charnelles,êtres décadents,insolents ou trop timide 

Femmes battantes , génies sordides ,incompris sans prix 

Mon cri était Rouge comme le cri mortuaire et splendide de la Vie 

Nébuleuse

-

Les Nebuleuses de la Vie

Les cœurs saignaient des lames et des épines en silex de souffrance .

Le Viol des femmes criait dans la matrice d'une pierre écorchée et fendue 

On avait volé mon corps pour le pendre dans le feu des enfer .

Ma peau tremblait.

MonDieu ! Je vie ,crie et renait !

Elle battait son plein quand soudain un feu d'artifice de Sang et de Soleil s'accoucha dans la lumière chaude  !

La joie naissait du cri des nébuleuses orgasmiques .

MonDieu ! Je vis ,cris et renait .

La fête sanglante de la joie étripa la tristesse et mes veines hurlaient l'amour dans le bazar des étoiles décorés d'arc en ciel que les roses osaient embrasser. 

Apocalypse ! Renaissance !Transe débridé et merveilleusement désaccordé !

Tel est le cycle de la vie !

Le Rouge !Le Rouge!Le Rouge du Viol!

De la Force ! Du Cosmos!

J'enfante l'Esprit du Rouge hors de mon sexe et de mon ventre divins .

Il est Pudeur Christique qui nous fait rougir  !Exhibition Cosmique !Damnation sordide !Cri qui combat le Vide à travers le chant des tripes qui se crachent dans l'Extase .Nous sommes la Vie ,les chemins véritables des Écorchés qui se ramassent la tronche sur un parbrise de seringue puis s'inventent des nouveaux yeux en remplaçant leur phares crevés,pour voir un nouveau monde et pratiquer la sexualité Spirituelle des Voyages Intérieurs.

Mon corps provoque ainsi l'orgasme du vagin qu'est notre cosmos immense.

Mon ventre hurle la danse de l'antre ,le feu qui vocifère l'exaltation et la rage de courir contre ce qui est inconnu et absurde. 

Les nébuleuses s'accouplent et enfantent la plus belle des tortures qu'est la vie .

MonDieu !Je vis ! Je naît !

Mon cœur est le reflet de ma Pulsion Poétesse.

Il s'ecorche,se trépasse et apprend à renaître de travers dans cette Mère qu'est un simple fragment poussiéreux et grandiose d'Univers. 

Vive les Gueux !Les Fous et Folles puantes , prophètes et déesses de Dieu!

Vive le cri des femmes démolies sexuellement qui assaillissent ensuite le mâle dominant ,écrasé comme un domino dans le do mi do de la musique salvatrice de l'âme. Vive les clochardes qui puent dans la rue et osent encore se battre avec splendeur et transcendance anarchique .

Vive ces gens qu'on regarde de travers !

Vive les marginaux inopinés dont la symbiose acclame une des milles trilliards de vérités et bien plus car il y à un nombre infinie de vérités et pas une !

Elles forment le chaos ,la fusion en magma du champ des cœurs poètes aux mélodies de clarinette .

Je ne déclarais jamais " vive la France" ! Ni de " Vive la Terre " uniquement 

Vive l'Univers ,La Terre et le Sang de ses Veines !

Vive le tout sans frontière ni patrie  !

Vive le Souffle des Tripes de la Poésie !

Vive les Croyants Psychédéliques aux Révoltes Humanistes et les Génies psychotiques et Utopiques dont la Folie est enfaîte le cadavre des codes sociaux et l'Abolission des camisoles .

Car nos Corps puent après la Mort mais La Mort est dans la Vie .

Il n'y a pas de Mort.

La Mort n'existe pas car la Poésie et Dieu le Clown Révolutionnaire l'ont abolie .

Il n'y a qu'une brochette de Pleurs ,de Rires ,de Renaissances ,de Voyages Intersidéraux et d'Éternité Mère de l'Art et Matrice d'une de ces Infinies Vérités. 

Nébuleuse Mirobolante 

Nébuleuse 

[justinboisco]

Accueillir la Vie

La vie telle qu’elle est avec ses hauts et ses bas. Ses jours sans, ses jours avec. La vie belle et rebelle. L’ombre et sa lumière. L’angoisse qui incite à agir. Le sourire d’une inconnue. L’éclosion. Les rayons du soleil qui caressent ma joue. L’orage qui nettoie tout sur son passage. La colère, puissante énergie. Les flammes dans le noir. La beauté. Les rires d’enfants. Les larmes qui vident le cœur de ses toxines. Le silence. Les caresses. Les mots doux. La bienveillance. Le silence encore. La gratitude. Le ciel bleu. Les livres. L’injustice qui nous met en rage et nous pousse à nous battre. Le parfum du jasmin. Les aromates du jardin. La curiosité. Tout ce qui reste à découvrir. La douceur. Les épines qui protègent les roses. Les feux de cheminée. Les cordes de guitare qui chantent sous mes doigts. La vigne vierge qui prend ses aises. L’amour. Les rides qui retracent le chemin parcouru. Les regards profonds. Les petits moments de bonheur. Les tout petits détails qui font la diffèrence. Le recul qui fait avancer. Le premier crocus. Les couchers du soleil qui s’éternisent. L’étoile qui scintille au loin dans la noirceur. L’odeur de la mandarine. La présence. L’humus. Les colibris. Le vide, matrice de tout. Le manque qui me rassure sur ma capacité à aimer. L’écoute. Les feuilles qui tombent. Un flocon de neige. Les yeux bleus d’une enfant. Les adieux qui laissent un vide à combler. Un bonjour sincère. Les épaules d’un ami. L’héritage maudit qui nous maintient en alerte. La légèreté. Le chant des oiseaux un matin d’été fenêtres ouvertes. L’herbe coupée. Les champs de blé. De colza. De tournesol. De lavande. Ces nuances vives. Le ronronnement du chat. La paresse bien méritée. Le sable chaud. Les enfants qui grandissent. Les déclics. Les cerisiers en fleurs. Une pluie de pétales de fleurs qui virevoltent au vent. Les fêlures, les failles, qui laissent passer la lumière. Les imperfections. La sensibilité. Les frissons. Les éclairs qui déchirent le ciel. Les notes du piano. L’écume des vagues qui s’échoue sur le sable et vole au vent. Les petits pas. Les tout petits pas. La chute au fond de l’abîme parce qu’on ne peut aller plus loin. Un thé fumé. De si belles rencontres. La douceur de sa peau. Les choses simples. Les aurores boréales. La puissance de nos sens. Une âme qui veille. Des âmes à chérir. Un dessin. Liberté cherie. Les ailes du papillon. L’humilité. La fragilité. La chaleur humaine. L’action. Le printemps. Le grand ménage. La montagne. La solitude. Un verre de bon vin. Retourner la terre. Cuisiner. Semer et attendre que ça pousse. Voyager. Vraiment. Voyager vraiment. Se défaire du savoir, des convictions qui enferment. Marcher lentement très très lentement. Sentir. Regarder tout près et au loin. Les forêts à perte de vue. Honorer ce que nous sommes. Un très vieil arbre témoin. Photographier. Conserver. Ressortir. Prendre soin. Échanger. Partager. Les éclats de rire. Les fausses notes. Le potier. Le fromager. Le couturier. Le céramiste. Le peintre. L’écrivain. Le danseur. Le chanteur. Le poète. Le tagueur. Le masseur. Le chercheur. La patience. La douce folie. Les mains usées. La gratitude encore. Un bon café pour les réveils difficiles. Un bain chaud. Des bougies. Une main tendue. Une poigne franche. Un coup de main. Un arc-en-ciel. Le minois d’un enfant tout juste réveillé. L’edredon en plume. Un fruit mangé sur l’arbre. Le potager. Les doigts dans la glaise. Un animal sauvé par un homme au péril de sa vie. La lionne qui attrape le zèbre blessé et laisse donc un peu de répit aux autres. Les sons du clocher des villages. Une nuit à la belle étoile. Un fruit gorgé de soleil. Le chant des cigales. Le clapotis de l’eau. La tempête de neige que l’on observe depuis la cabane chauffée, un thé à la main, un livre dans l’autre. L’entropie, parce que l’infinie serait terrible. Une étreinte qui dure qui dure dans le silence. La mort. Un nouveau départ.

[reseau-actu]

Dans un essai stimulant, la philosophe* analyse la vision du monde qui sous-tend cette injonction. C'est une véritable pensée, le néolibéralisme, en rupture avec le libéralisme classique, argumente-t-elle.

LE FIGARO. - Votre livre est consacré à l'impératif «il faut s'adapter». Pourquoi vous êtes-vous intéressée à ce sujet?

Barbara STIEGLER. - On entend cette injonction depuis plusieurs décennies dans le champ politique, social, économique, éducatif et sanitaire: «il faut s'adapter» dans un monde en constante «évolution», en pleine «mutation», où la «compétition» fait rage. C'est le signe d'une colonisation du champ politique par le vocabulaire de la biologie. Or, en Europe, pour des raisons historiques liées à la Seconde Guerre mondiale et au discrédit brutal du biologisme, on sépare habituellement le biologique du politique. Mais cette prudence n'a pas effleuré l'Amérique, qui a continué d'hybrider ces deux champs.

Vous opposez le libéralisme classique au néolibéralisme. Quelle est la différence?

Il y a beaucoup de confusion intellectuelle sur ce sujet. C'est un terme très connoté idéologiquement, qui déclenche des réflexes pavloviens. Le néolibéralisme est aujourd'hui le mode de pensée dominant, hégémonique, pour reprendre la catégorie gramscienne. Il naît dans les années 1930, après l'échec constaté du libéralisme classique où le «laisser-faire» a été discrédité par la crise de 1929. L'idée est que l'État reprenne la main pour imposer les règles du jeu. Le courant néolibéral n'est pas un complot d'odieux capitalistes, mais une philosophie à part entière qu'il faut prendre au sérieux. C'est l'idée d'une compétition loyale où les populations modestes sont remises «en selle» ou «en marche». D'où le discours omniprésent sur l'égalité des chances, et le vocabulaire de la «réforme».

«Le néolibéralisme a lui aussi un agenda de réformes et une conception de la révolution qui entend imposer ses propres fins à toute l'espèce humaine, au nom du sens de l'évolution de la vie»

Les libéraux classiques vilipendaient le marxisme à cause de sa vision téléologique de l'histoire, ils critiquaient les «grands récits» au nom de la neutralité axiologique de l'État. Or, loin d'être neutre, le néolibéralisme a lui aussi un agenda de réformes et une conception de la révolution qui entend imposer ses propres fins à toute l'espèce humaine, au nom du sens de l'évolution de la vie. Cette conception téléologique de l'histoire de la vie trahit complètement le darwinisme, pour qui l'évolution du vivant est au contraire multidirectionnelle. Autre différence majeure avec le libéralisme classique: le pessimisme anthropologique. L'homme n'a pas comme chez Adam Smith (1723-1790) des dispositions naturelles pour le marché, mais il doit être «rééduqué» pour s'y «adapter».

On peut distinguer trois grands courants au sein du néolibéralisme: le courant austro-américain, qui, avec Friedrich Hayek (1899-1992), insiste sur la nécessité de l'artifice du droit pour établir les règles du jeu du marché. Le deuxième courant est celui de l'ordo-libéralisme allemand, l'une des sources d'inspiration de la construction européenne (notamment le vocabulaire de la «concurrence libre et non faussée»). Enfin, il y a la version lippmannienne du néolibéralisme, celle qui a donné sa matrice théorique au colloque Lippmann de 1938, et que je mets au jour dans ce livre.

» LIRE AUSSI - Pourquoi une crise économique américaine en 2019 pourrait signifier la fin du néolibéralisme

Comment résumer la théorie et l'influence de Walter Lippmann?

Pour Lippmann (1889-1974), il n'y a pas de peuple constitué qui soit souverain, contrairement à ce que prétend la théorie de la souveraineté populaire. On a affaire à des masses, apathiques, hétérogènes, atomisées. Au lieu de le déplorer, il faut l'accepter et adapter notre manière de faire la démocratie à cette nouvelle donne. Il ne faut donc plus recueillir le consentement des masses, mais le fabriquer avec l'aide des médias (au sens large). D'où l'idée d'une place centrale de la communication et de la «pédagogie des réformes» pour faire accepter le «cap». Le citoyen d'un monde mondialisé extrêmement complexe est forcément dépassé. Il doit donc laisser place à l'expert. Il faut entraîner l'opinion publique dans la bonne direction. Comme dans le libéralisme classique, il y a, chez Lippmann, une hiérarchie entre l'opinion publique et les représentants, mais ce qui est nouveau, c'est l'alliance des représentants avec les experts dans l'objectif de «rééduquer» ces masses et les adapter à leur nouvel environnement. Derrière cette conception de la démocratie, il y a une thèse évolutionniste: celle d'un décalage entre l'avancée technologique et l'accélération des flux et notre équipement psychique et affectif, attaché à la stase, au ralentissement des flux. C'est le «retard culturel» de l'espèce humaine sur son propre environnement.

Quelles sont les implications de la philosophie néolibérale sur la santé et l'éducation?

Dans l'éducation, c'est l'accent mis sur la formation, pour que les individus soient polyvalents, pour améliorer leurs facultés d'adaptabilité ou d'employabilité, pour être mobile sur le marché. L'école ne fournit plus de savoir, mais des compétences à la mobilité. Dans le domaine de la santé, le patient doit augmenter ses compétences et ses performances. Puisqu'il s'agit d'augmenter les capacités de notre espèce, il y a aussi une dimension eugéniste. S'il condamne l'eugénisme raciste et s'il critique les tests de QI, Lippmann prône un «eugénisme bienveillant» qui vise à augmenter les compétences de tous les individus à la compétition.

À quoi faut-il s'adapter, selon les partisans de cette philosophie?

Pour le néolibéralisme, il convient de s'adapter à ce qu'il considère être la fin de l'évolution, qui lui donne son sens. L'horizon eschatologique du néolibéralisme, c'est un monde entièrement mondialisé dans lequel la division du travail sera parfaitement répartie, où l'explosion des échanges et l'accélération des flux seront à leur maximum et la concurrence entièrement «loyale».

«Ce qu'on appelle abusivement le “macronisme” n'existe pas (...). C'est un avatar, peut-être pas le dernier, d'une philosophie qui a presque un siècle et dont l'hégémonie a au moins cinquante ans»

Retrouvez-vous dans le macronisme et le mouvement En marche! la synthèse du néolibéralisme que vous décrivez?

Faire la «pédagogie des réformes», libérer les individus de leurs déterminismes pour les rendre plus aptes à survivre à la mondialisation, remettre en marche les populations, l'accent porté sur la formation, sur l'égalité des chances dans la compétition… tout y est. Cela montre que ce qu'on appelle abusivement le «macronisme» n'existe pas, que ce nouveau mouvement politique n'a rien inventé de nouveau. C'est un avatar, peut-être pas le dernier, d'une philosophie qui a presque un siècle et dont l'hégémonie a au moins cinquante ans.

Le clivage entre «conservateurs» et «progressistes» ne participe-t-il pas de cette idéologie néolibérale?

- Crédits photo : Gallimard

Le discours néolibéral n'admet qu'un cap unique, qui annihile l'agon politique (la joute oratoire où s'affrontent des thèses opposées dans l'Antiquité grecque, NDLR). Il faut nous adapter, sinon nous allons disparaître, sinon la France sera balayée. Ça n'est même pas discutable: nous sommes soumis à une injonction morale qui renoue avec une forme de transcendance. Lippmann le dit: dans une démocratie mûre, il n'y a plus de conflits de valeurs, il n'y a que des phénomènes de consentement ou de résistance. D'où l'opposition conservateurs-progressistes qui vient remplacer le clivage droite-gauche. D'où l'idée, surtout, qu'il n'y aurait qu'une seule fin de l'histoire et que toute tentative de la discuter nous ferait prendre du retard. Or mon livre raconte aussi comment l'une des plus grandes figures de la philosophie américaine, John Dewey (1859-1952), a déconstruit un à un les ingrédients de ce «nouveau» libéralisme. Peut-être que l'heure est venue de redécouvrir ses contre-propositions.

* Professeur de philosophie politique à l'université Bordeaux-Montaigne.