#My tastes border on weird but we live on.

[mourningobject]

re: your post saying you have nuanced takes on proshipping; what nuance is there to not wanting csem/abuse/incest/etc written for entertainment and fandom without tact. "dislike both sides of the argument" perhaps it's my black and white autism thinking but genuinely what is there to dislike about not wanting twitter users to romanticize various forms of abuse. i am asking this not as some random hate anon but as someone who is considering whether or not to break mutual; i do not want anyone who can even slightly be okay with abuse for entertainment around me; and therefore am asking clarification.

Putting this under a cut because I don't want a biggie made out of it. TLDR; I dislike pro-shippers as people and think they are disgusting scum, but dislike anti as a label due to the rampant hypocrisy and occasional lack of nuance regarding if and how to portray sensitive content in art, as well as the performative behaviour & the lack of curating of their online spaces.

I've learnt to stop caring so much about what other people do even if the content they create makes me sick to my stomach. I do not agree with creating such content without tact or for the sake of making their dicks hard. But I just won't interact, I'll block. I also don't see how this material can be considered "abuse for entertainment"... unless you're talking about the abuse within the content.

But I understand your concern. You don't want someone perverse to be by your side. To elaborate on what I meant, the problem isn't with the concept of someone simply disliking seeing such things, that's more than fine. I just don't either as a Label, fundamentally.

Antis are more often than not performative and reactionary online (particularly the ones fixated on the subject, or with uncovering others as secretly being evil and such to the point of sending others retrospring asks like "Uuum, why do you follow [so and so]" and not even giving the @ for the person to block them and assuming the worst of them to the point it comes off as fake advocacy on their behalf. Especially when I myself follow artists who create questionable content once in a blue moon, but if it isn't their entire catalogue does that make me evil? These people aren't and will never be my friends. This is something that happened a lot on twitter, especially a few months ago. I understand the fear of being close to someone who's morals don't align with yours, but if you genuinely have concerns you may as well dm them instead of making a spectacle out of it), especially when most of them turn around and indulge in content that borders on the same, or even downright degeneracy on the side, as well as comparing it to genuine real world abuse or feeling it important to mention in cases that are totally unrelated where a person has committed actual crimes which is like, well, both can matter, but is now the time? I'd say it only counts in cases like that of Lily Orchard, where what she portrayed in her works was a reflection of her disgusting self and abuse she'd committed in real life. I don't believe in fiction not affecting reality because that is a redundant way to view art, as well as due to how art can reflect the creator's subconscious views, or normalize things to them, and they'll repeat again and again, "it's just fiction!" as if that makes it any better that they get off on the things they do. But these people will exist no matter what and so will the content they create, so antis should learn to actually curate their online spaces rather than getting into useless discourse, particularly teenagers who won't be able to change the minds of degenerate adults, or make a big deal about it publicly to show how they have the moral high-ground. Not to mention, countless antis I've seen are hypocrites who end up being revealed to believe this doesn't matter at all in the real world, or are friends with people who engage with pro ship content, but will harass others for it...? It's the rampant double standards that I don't like. Plus, a lot of media that antis love has elements that would be considered "pro ship" like nitro chiral games, and targets those audiences specifically, but they are surprised when the people it is made for interact with it. Of course I believe one can engage in media with disgusting things while being critical, though; I am an Ensemble Stars fan. There is shota-bait and incest all over the source material. That doesn't make me inherently sick because I'm not there for that, I understand that.

Also, most antis dislike these concepts being portrayed in media altogether, which is something I disagree with. If handled well these are experiences that deserve to be shared to others. Many victims have internalized so many horrific thoughts that they can't help but handle it imperfectly—that's something they have to deal with in therapy, though, why should I be the one to try to open their eyes as if it won't push them deeper into the hole they're in? You know?

There's also the thin line between "dark content" and "proship material". Who has the right to define this? (Obviously CSEM being inherently immoral is a given). That's all, mostly. There's more I've thought about before but I'm forgetting right now. I think both sides are worthy of critique and simply find most self-identified antis annoying, not nearly in a way that is as egregious as their counterpart, to be fair. I'm too busy simply being a Normal Person who also shakes his head in disdain when I see things like that. Even though I have mental problems regarding this sort of thing. I'm not saying to "not be sensitive", but to "not be stupid".

I think pro-shippers should stay away from antis because they are mostly children and victims themselves at that, and antis should stay away from pro-shippers because they are disgusting adults who will never be saved or changed by their protests.

My questions in this post are rhetorical even though I suppose I'm open to discussion and further elaboration but I think it's more than enough to show where I stand and whether you want to stay as my mutual or not. But that's essentially why I don't self-identify with either. Also, this could have used a dm, but I'm happy to explain my views. I’d at least appreciate an anonymous final verdict, though!

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[scoobydooisadetective]

Tenoch's interview at the Vagos de la Vida Real Podcast

Hi! sorry this took so long, I'm a bit rusty. Sorry for any grammar mistakes too. If you find difficulties understanding anything or if you have any correction, let me know.

Bold is the interviewer, normal is Tenoch and italics are comments made by me (mostly explaining things or when I don’t understand what they’re saying)

We already have some followers here in this radio experimentation laboratory called "Vagos de la vida real", produced by La Universidad Autónoma de San Luis. And to start talking, I'd like to ask you something that has to do with your past, with your dreams, with nostalgia, I think. Let's see what you tell us: What does Ecatepec represent in your life?

Well, it’s the place where I was raised. I grew up on the border, right there, a few blocks away in between Ecatepec and Coacalco, and to me, apart from being the place where I grew up, it’s the place that gave me identity. Between the contrasts of things that I saw at home, what you see on the street, what you see at school, I think that at the end of the day the place where I grew up was very privileged because I was able to understand many dynamics and see many points of view and understand many types of lives and experiences based on the place where I grew up.

Back then, going from Mexico City to Ecatepec or from Ecatepec to the city was the equivalent to a trip outside the city, let’s say, it’s like going to Cuernavaca, to Querétaro, you know? It was literally like going to a city in a different state. The metropolitan area had not swallowed that part of the state of Mexico, so it was… Very particular, because I recall that when I have talked with friends that were raised outside the city, let’s say Jalisco or places like that, we have similar experiences about living “outside” the city, in another state and at the same time, this other identity that’s a lot more urban. In my case, it was formed towards my teenage years as a result of the closeness and “distance” between Ecatepunk (another way of calling Ecatepec that Tenoch uses)  and Mexico City.

That's right. Hey, right now we're going to talk about Ecatepunk, the term was among the questions I had (Tenoch laughs). Do you remember your friends from there?

Yeah, yeah!

What was everyday life like? Tell us about your friends, what did they do? Did they play in the street? Were they naughty nuisances? What was everyday life like when you were in middle school there in Ecatepec? Because you went to middle school in Ecatepec, right?

Yes, they're sons of a gun (the host laughs and I don't get to hear what Tenoch says properly, but he mentions something about being naughty or doing naughty things). Some were worse than others, you know, there's a bit of everything, from really quiet dudes, the majority of them are hard-working people, with their families and so on, but there were always the miscreants (he says malandrillos, idk how to translate it but basically reckless kids, 'bad' guys, etc, just in case this word is weird) and I just so happened to befriend them. I always had the... (Tenoch laughs and doesn’t finish the sentence). I was a very easy going kid, imagine that my first drop of alcohol... Well, I had tasted something, but I drank my first real drink when I was 21, 22 years old. I was finishing college when I had my first drink. Actually, I was really easy going and the majority of my friends were, let's say, a little more adventurous in life than me. And so I was friends with the bad guys and also the guys that were top in class, so I could move in all aspects, let's say, in all the areas that a public middle school could offer. I went to the Moisés Saenz middle school and when I was a little boy, that was the most posh school in the area, but by the time I started middle school there, it was a step before juvenile prison because everyone was a son of a gun, but the truth is I had a great time, it was fun and I still have many friends from middle school.

That's important, yes, yes. Hey, something that comes to mind about what you're talking about is, how did you and your friends saw Mexico City? You already told us it was like a trip to another city, but how did you guys see it? How did you imagine that urban monster that was growing? Did you ever realize that it was going to absorb you? You didn't realize? What was the imagery of those who lived there?

Well, you truly don't realize it. For starters, it was like a mythical place, it was a distant place, the big city. At the end of the day, it is the country's capital, so when you're a young what interests you is, or in my case, were the raves, the rock shows, going to bars and so on, but we didn't have enough money or the age... 14 years old, where the hell were they going to let us in? So that was like the dream of the city, the city, the city and suddenly, it began to become too urbanized there and when I started college... I mean, in high school I already acquired a little clearer awareness of the immensity of the city and the complexity of it. At the end of the day, I lived in a microcosm. When I was a child, there were, I don't know, four or five subdivisions and I lived in one of them. There were five or six villages that ended up being absorbed by the urban sprawl and now are interior villages and everything else was for plots. Then little by little it became urbanized, the city swallowed it up.

When I started my degree in the UNAM was when I really got to experience Mexico City, I was visiting it on a daily basis. I studied in Aragón, but the majority of my activities post-school where in Acatlán, because I played american football with los Pumas de Acatlán and the other part of my activities were in Mexico City, in Channel 22, where I did my social service, in ABC radio that's in the press building by the Hidalgo subway station, where I also did internships and eventually I did some work as a reporter and journalistic notes in the radio, I went on air and read news. Anyway, it was a whole adventure to discover... While I was growing, let's say... It's very funny, because while I was growing, my horizons were growing too. In terms of the city, the 'chilango' identity, that I personally love, I'm not a chilango supremacist, even though I make a lots of jokes about it, but the truth is I'm not. The bottom line is that something beautiful about Mexico City is that people from everywhere live in the city and Mexico City wouldn't be so cool if only us chilangos lived in it, because it's a really, really boring city. All the diversity, the food, the ambiance, the places, the people... I mean 25 millions of souls are 25 millions of different worlds, so there's a bit of everything for everyone and the truth is that I can brag that I have been able to live, well the precise term of the word is cosmopolitan, the cosmopolitan life of Mexico City, because we're a country that measures half of Europe. So, when we talk about cosmopolitanism, just with the inner immigration in the country is already half of Europe, that's how cosmopolitan Mexico City can be. So, truly, I've had a great time. Now I live in chilangolandia, I have become a chilango completely.

Full time

And I enjoy it a lot. Full time, truly. And I enjoy it a lot, I mean, we also have to keep the distances and proportions. I live in a central area of the city, in a middle class area, so obviously services such as transportation and security are greater, so it offers me a much more comfortable life in the city than to other people.

Hey, would you let us go back to your story?

Let's go, let's go. Yes.

In 91', before you went to college, one of the most complicated decades for this country began. In 94' the Zapatista war blows up, they kill Colosio, there's a series of complications that arose and are part of who we are today. I'd like for you to tell us if you remember how did you see it, if you were already in high school... How did you see everything that was happening? Or you didn't see it? It's something I've asked every guest we've had here in Vagos and the answers have been very diverse, from people that never knew, to people who participated, that went to protests. How was your experience with the '90s?

No, I was very... My parents politicized me since I was little. I went to my first march when I was 7 years old, which was the march in '88 ... (I don't understand what the march was for because they speak at the same time but I managed to hear something about something that they did to someone named Cardenas I think). So yeah, actually, I made things uncomfortable in the classroom since middle school, because when they started to talk about history, I'd bring up my facts like 'no, but wait, Porfirio Diaz did this and that' and they were like 'shut up, asshole' or I would go with my friends to chat and I'd start saying things like Mexico is a great nation and they have to respect us and they were like 'shut up, dude'. Eventually, the majority of my classmates ended up working in political parties and the only one who didn't work with political parties was me. It's like those people that tell you 'you're an atheist because you haven't read about religion' and you say 'no, because I've read about religion I'm an atheist', that happened to me. Since I was a kid my dad politicized me and well, yes, we saw all the events that were happening in the country, and well, I didn't only see them and was aware of them, my dad would talk to me about them and well when the... When the zapatista army arrived at Mexico City, I was there in the Zócalo with my family to receive them. I remember I learned a very important lesson there, I was telling my dad 'I think that Mexico isn't a racist country, but rather a classist country' and my dad told me 'go out to the street and yell 'indio' (indio it's used as a derogatory term in Mexico, meaning someone who's ignorant or uncivilized. Even though the original meaning is being descended from indigenous people) at any person and you'll see how it goes'.

That's right.

'If that is not racism, I don't know what is', and I was like 'oh, fuck'. I was around 13 or 14 years old at that time and since then I began to have a lot of awareness. I thank my dad for that, because regardless of the ideological or political positions that one might have, having awareness and being politicized in life allows you to make better conditions-- decisions, sorry.

Yeah, that's right.

I could say that a good part of the decisions I've taken in my career are based a lot on what I read in the newspapers and especially in the international news.

You have been telling us about your father. Would you like to tell us who your father is? About him?

Yeah, well, look, to me, my heroes in life are my parents. My mom and my dad, they're my fucking heroes, the two of them. My mom lost her mom when she was 11 or 12 years old and my dad lost his dad when he was 5 or 6 years old. So, the fact that my mom didn't have a mom and my dad didn't have a dad meant that no one ruined them (they laugh at this joke, and Tenoch adds something else but he's laughing so I can't manage to grasp what he's saying, though he says something about 'bad examples at home').

They both have worked their whole lives. My mom was raised in what was back then the Iztapalapa village, and it was just that, a village. There were only a few streets that had lights. My dad was from the Colonia Obrera, so it’s funny now that I mention it to you, because my dad was from the Colonia Obrera, a very urban area in Mexico City and my mom was from Iztapalapa, a village, a very rural area in Mexico City and the place where I grew up was a mix between the urban and the rural, right? Because there were many lots there, and at the same time there were a lot of subdivisions, Mexico City, well, the state was starting to split.

My dad was a kid that worked since he was 5 years old as a shoemaker assistant and he was a laborer since he was 13 years old. And being a laborer and having 2 or 3 children, I don’t remember if my sister who was born before me had already been borned, but my dad being a laborer and everything ended up in night-time studies at the polytechnic university (not sure if this or trade school is a better translation but I think you can grasp the idea) and he graduated as an engineer and won a scholarship to study in Germany for a year and a half.

Well I never!

Well, yes. Back then, when going to college actually meant social mobility. And my mom was raised by her aunt, she studied a technical career, starts to work and meets my dad, they get married and made the decision that my mom would stay at home taking care of the kids and my dad was going to work, because back then, before people judge without knowing and understanding, and as the wise says ‘there’s no text without context’. The context about the period when my parents were young, the 60-70s, is that one person, with one salary could sustain a family of 6 or 7 members. In our case, we were six: four siblings, including me, my dad and my mom. So, with my dad’s salary as a teacher, because first he was a teacher at a technical school… With my dad being a teacher, he could sustain us, the whole family. And my mom, by her own decision, wanted to stay home, which I thank a lot because without my mom's effort of taking care of us, of being at home, having always the clothes clean for us and warm food, a mommy that would hug us and pamper us, and when we got sick she would send us to school anyway, she didn't give a fuck, but when we got back from it she would receive us with a hot soup and kisses. And my siblings got hit (he says ‘les ponía su chingazo’, I don’t think it means he hit them violently or anything, it’s probably more like a telling off? just putting this here because slang and intentions are hard to translate at times) because they earned them, those fuckers, but without that mommy, we wouldn't had made it. So that's why I say that both of them have given me great examples. My mom, by staying at home, my dad, by going to work and with all that life experience accumulated, from the two of them, their lives, everything they went through since childhood, their loss of mom and dad, well, they raised us... We're four, the four of us went to college, we're professionals, we are good people, so the clear thing is that without my parents, without my mother and without my father we would not be what we are and that is why I will always be eternally grateful to my parents. And I hope that one day I can give that same example and that same support to my two little girls that I adore, these two little girls are my raison d'être (I looked this up, but basically they’re his reason to exist), they are my solid rock. Someone told me “I’m glad your daughter, the eldest in this case, was born, because otherwise you would have gone crazy, she’s your anchor to reality”, then the little one came along also at a very important time in my life and these two brought good luck to me when they were born. The truth is that these two kids are now what my parents showed me we were for them.

Hey, so I have a question. I read in an interview somewhere that you said that in Ecatepec the microphones were turned off and it was not easy to get out of there. Did you realize this in middle school? Or when you went to high school? Or did you rationalize it when you were already in college?

I realized when I was in college, because you know what? When I was in middle school and high school to me it was normal, I was just another kid from the suburbs and that was it. I lived my life, I went to political rallies and things like that with my parents, but beyond that, well, no.

And your classmates? What were their dreams about their future? Or they didn’t dream of the future?

Well, besides having a good life, earning a good salary and having a house, the truth is that I don’t remember us having any other kind of talks about the future. I think that is something that happens when you’re young, which I think is very healthy too. But also, when you live in less fortunate contexts you’re not thinking so much about the future, because you’re worried about the present and how to overcome things.

Here and now.

For the here and now. I think not all of my classmates, but most of us thought about the future in terms of what career we wanted to pursue and things like that, but there was also a significant part of my classmates who didn’t even question such things, they didn’t have the sense of urgency about the future, really. Beyond buying a house and having a good job, there wasn’t any sort of talks or points of views and I think it has to do with age. 

When I started to study my career, when I was accepted at the UNAM in ‘99, just when the 99 strike was happening, the climate was extremely politicized and I appreciate it a lot because it made us question other things. I personally did have the belief that Mexico had to change, that there would have to be a revolution. I thought that at that moment, like a lot of young people and people who came before me, actually, my dad is from the ‘68 generation, several of his classmates lost their lives… Well, they didn’t lose them, they were killed, they died in the movement in ‘68. I did think that the revolution had to be armed, but that didn’t mean that the political fight should be left aside. Anyways, when I started college, I started to understand a lot of things and I realized that college was giving me a lot, a college that was sustained with the taxes of a society, well, it was a college that was giving the less fortunate sons of the revolution… It was giving us a future, right?

Hey, we're running out of time for this segment, we're going to continue talking about this later and I'd like to take this opportunity to tell our listeners, you've heard who's here with us. With studies in communication and journalism at the FES Aragón of the UANAM, from a very young age he dedicated himself to acting and the quality of his work has led him to participate in more than fifty films, more than twelve Mexican, European and North American series. Nominated for the Ariel on five occasions and recognized in one of them as best actor and recognized as best supporting actor in the 54th version of the awards granted by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, in the United States. Author of the book Orgullo Prieto, published in Editorial Grijalbo.

Tenoch huerta, I thank you with all my heart that you have opened a space in your agenda, an agenda that has a lot of work, that has many commitments and yet you still agreed to come and talk with us in this space. I'm going to play a song that closes this segment and I will continue talking with Tenoch Huerta in the next segment.

–

We’re back with Vagos de la Vida Real

We're back here, thank you for continuing with us in this radio experimentation laboratory called Vagos de la Vida Real. I take this opportunity to thank Gabriela Hernandez, our university radio director, who allows and supports this project in its second season. I thank you for your calls to the booth. Thank you for the messages we receive in our social networks, remember we have an Instagram for Vagos de la Vida Real if you want to write to us and there, we’ll say who’s going to be the next guests who will come to this program. Today, we have a top-level guest, Tenoch Huerta. Let’s continue talking with you, Tenoch.

I’d like, because of everything you said about Ecatepunk and all of that, to give a little more context: Ecatepec has always been considered as one of the municipalities with the biggest rate of violence, insecurity and femicides. Meaning, the zone where you grew up was very rough, then you moved to Coacalco and went to college. Something I’d like you to do is take us to the memory of your first day of college. I understand, if you want to tell us about that, that when your high school classmates applied for the exam, you were the only one admitted to college.

Yeah, yes, precisely. In the whole high school, I was the only one, which, now that I say it outloud, instead of speaking well of me, speaks badly of the school.

Indeed.

But well, that’s how it was. I was admitted to college. I took the test because my school wasn’t incorporated to the UNAM, it was rather incorporated to another system, so I had to take the test. I was admitted to journalism and I remember the first day I was very nervous. My first day of class was in extramuros, which was really funny because I felt a lot of affinity for the movement and its postures, from which I had some idea, but when I entered I could soak up much more about what was going on thanks to the flier distribution. The people in the general strike board would do it constantly and well, I started to read and soak up the ideas and overall, what the college was looking for at that moment, that topic seemed more important and attractive to me. I was never part of the strike board because I didn’t feel comfortable. Anyone could enter, right? You just went to the assembly and that was it, you were involved. I remember going to a few of them, and later on I went to another and no, it wasn’t something that moved me, but the things they talked about and the reason we were fighting mattered to me. So, yeah, I truly had a great time, but that first day I was very nervous, it was like the first day in kinder, middle school and high school, all of them together and multiplied for ten. So, that’s how the first day of class in my career felt, but the truth is I had a great time, I made great friends and the majority of my classmates are people that in one way or another, I still keep contact with. 

Also, it was very gratifying that the first college strike in the XXI century was in Mexico, and it also was a victorious one, because a lot of the things we were seeking, regardless of the phobias or philias of each person, well, the college is still public, free, secular and it still is and continues to have the status of the best college in Mexico. So, with all the love and respect that public and autonomous universities throughout the country deserve and also the private ones, well I come from a public school so evidently, my heart beats a bit more to the left. So, school, public education to me… If there’s something you have to bet on… Betting on the future is betting on education, but not education in an abstract way, but rather on a humanist education with a deep social commitment, which, at the end of the day, I ended up absorbing to a greater extent at the UNAM. Once I started having a bigger status in the film industry, I understood that my position is not only to enjoy the success, but also distribute the jar of honey. Start to distribute that jar and most importantly, well, take over the hives so we can start producing honey for everyone, that’s the idea I’ve always had in life, I know it sounds chairo (Chairo is a pejorative word that is used in Mexican politics to discriminate, disqualify or relegate militants or sympathizers of left-wing causes) and it’ll probably scare a lot of good consciences, but what can I say? Without social justice there’s no future.

No, that’s really poetic. That’s how it is, that’s how it is. Hey, something that comes up that I want to imagine, but I want you to tell us, how did a kid that enters college, what, were you like 18 years old?

Yeah

How do you make it coincide? How do you reconcile the college where you were going to study communication, journalism… But also you were already involved in acting for a bit, for a few years, and a while ago you told me you played american football in college. Which one do you want to start telling us about first? Football, acting, what came first?

I played American football since I was 5 years old.

Oh, since you were a kid!

Yeah, since I was 5 years old until I was 21 years old.

Wow!

Here and there I didn’t play two or three seasons for different reasons, but I played. I played every year my season of american football. I played in a lot of teams, the last team I played with was at the UNAM, with the Pumas de Ataclán. After that, I dislocated my shoulder and I couldn’t do anything and my dad… I had taken acting workshops when I was 17 just as a hobby, because I was really happy doing nothing on the couch in my living room, waiting for it to be 11:45 to watch Golden (they both laugh because golden was a channel where they would show adult movies around that hour). No, no, it’s not true. It’s a joke, but if you want to, it’s not a joke.

But it happened at the time, yes.

So, I was really happy doing nothing in life and suddenly, my dad said ‘go and do something with your life’ and he almost dragged me to take those acting workshops. I liked them a lot, but it was just a hobby and when I was in college, as I was telling you, I played my last season, I dislocated my shoulder and my dad told me ‘Why don’t you take the workshops again?’ So I went back to the workshops, a little bit for curiosity and a little bit for having something to do.

Hey, before you tell us about the workshops and acting, what position did you play in american football?

I played as everything, but like my natural position, I figured it out the last 3 or 4 years that I played and it was the defense. For those who don’t know a lot of american football, the front line is the defensive and in that line, in the edges, there’s a pair of players that are the defensive ends and basically and elementally you dedicate to run into the coreback and beat the crap out of him so the dude would see you come and would be scared and wouldn’t be able to play at ease. So, basically, you’re a beater.

And it’s a complex position to play. I also played american football and the line is tough.

It’s tough (Tenoch goes on to mention something about receiving kicks I think, but the host speaks over him and I don’t understand).

And even more here, the american football played in universities is tougher than in the United States, what we see on TV. Here, the hits hurt in a different way.

Yeah, no, yeah, yeah. I played equipped when I was five, imagine it. The atom ant. We looked like little martians with the helmets that would make us lean to the side, but we start to bump into each other since we’re little, you can imagine… (Tenoch adds something but the host talks over him).

Now, tell us about the workshops. You repeated workshops.

Well, since I couldn’t play anymore, I started to take acting workshops and well, more than see these acting workshops as a way of living, I rather took it seriously because I liked it. So I dedicated it all my time and energy to my texts, monologues, to prepare, to give it a spin over and over again, because I truly liked it, I never had aspirations or anything, I simply liked it and it was something I was doing because all my time, energy and abilities were poured into accomplishing the job. Later on, a therapist told me that I’m obsessive and that obsession makes you not be able to let go until it comes out perfectly. It will never be perfect, so you never let it go. So, that obsession or profile made me always try harder. I was bad, I was terrible as an actor, really bad, but since I didn’t give up and I always kept going and I thank american football for that…

The discipline

One time, they blew the skin off one of my fingers while playing, and you could see the bone. I was 10 years old, I went out of the field and told the doctor ‘put a bandage on me’ and he put a gauze on and adhesive tape on my finger and I went back to play, even though they had torn off my skin, because that’s how it is, I don’t understand life in any other way. So they put the gauze and in you go. That’s why I get so angry when I watch soccer players, they tell them ‘good day’ and they tumble around four hundred times and they cry, and throw themselves and drag their feet and cry tears in front of the camera. I say, ‘dude, these people should be acting, they should be in soap operas and not in soccer’. And I know good soccer players who are actors and should be on the field, dude, but oh well.

So, there’s this thing about holding onto pain, not giving in without moving forward, continuing to fight until the referee whistles the end of the match, it’s what took me to eventually go from the worst actor in my workshop to the worst actor on set, but I was a professional! I wasn’t a student anymore, I was a professional actor. A very bad one, but I was there fighting, battling and that leads you to question yourself, and demand yourself and put the ‘this doesn’t end until it ends’ always in front of you, and you can’t take it for granted until it’s perfect, so that’s how I’ve always tried to do my job. I obviously have to measure myself, because there were times when I didn’t sleep or would hurt my body because I overtrained or demanded too much of myself. So, my therapist told me ‘yes, dude, but calm down a bit, it’s not a vow (he says ‘tampoco es manda’ so I guess he’s talking about when people ask a favor from a deity and then they pay it back by sacrificing their physical integrity at times) either’. 

But I think that American football gave me a fighting spirit, a sense of camaraderie, of teamwork, of strategy and of what you can't do… A player on his own is no one in a match, it’s always teamwork. I mean, you’re a team, a group and in that group, there are many individualities, but at the end of the day, they align towards the same objective and it allows you to achieve something. So I think all of that shaped me, not only on a professional level, but also on a personal level and it ended up making me the actor that I am now.

I finished my degree, I worked for a while, and suddenly, they called me to make a movie professionally, beyond those little calls here and there I took because I was simply bored and looking for something to do and earn some money, no, it was in a professional way. Deficit by Gael García Bernal was my first professional film, and although I had already done things before, it was my first professional film for real. And since then I have not worked on anything else, I haven’t earned a living from anything that is not acting. I’ve lived well, I’ve had seasons of skinny cows, fat cows and seasons where there even aren’t cows (cows are used to talk about money, like, época de vacas flacas is equal to lean years. I kept it because otherwise it didn’t make sense and I don’t know if there’s like a proper translation for this saying, but basically he’s saying he has struggled, has seen a lot of money and sometimes nothing at all). But I keep going, and overall, I think it has allowed me to find myself, to question a lot of things about life that eventually make us grow and now gives me the chance to offer a life, the best life I can, to my daughters. Someone told me something very nice recently: our ceilings will always be the floors of our children, so I want to elevate my ceilings a lot, so my daughters can have firm, solid floors, but they’ll have to build their own buildings. I’m not building anything for these damn kids! (He laughs).

Hey, let’s see if you allow me to go back to Ecatepec but in another sense. I read somewhere, in some interview you gave about the movie where you star as a cop and before you starred in it, you went to enroll in the police academy in Ecatepec, but without saying you were an actor. Tell us about that, because at the end of the day you returned to your land in some way.

Well, yeah, when we were preparing the movie, by the way, I had the script like a year and a half before, well, when the time to prepare the character arrived the director… I wasn’t giving what it needed. Actually, when I finished reading the script, I was about to tell the director that I couldn’t do that, that he needed an actor with more life experience, meaning, an older actor or with more training, because I had only taken workshops, I didn’t study acting as a career. So I was about to quit when he sent me the script and I read it, I was going to see him to tell him “you know what, dude? This story deserves someone who’s more prepared than me or has more life experience’ and when I arrived, he tells me ‘before you tell me anything, before you even speak, I would like to tell you that there’s no other actor in Mexico that can do this, only you. Now, what did you want to tell me?’ and I was like ‘When do we start, dude?’ 

So, the truth is I wasn’t enough, so the director suggested… And at the end of the day it was an agreement, but he said ‘dude, what if you take a few trips to the police academy?’ So I went to the police academy in Mexico City and they told me that no. I said well, I’m going to sign up as a cadet, and they told me that I couldn’t do that either because, I think I can say it openly, I don’t have a military service card, so I couldn’t sign up. And I was like ‘damn it’ and then, my mom knew people in the municipality of Coacalco, from Ecatepunk, and my mom told me ‘go there, they’ll receive you’, so right there my mom did production work, that’s how cool my mom is. So I arrived at the academy and the production intervened, obviously, and the agreements that had to be signed were signed, because I was going to train as a police officer, but since I wasn’t going to sign up, because if I did sign up, like with paperwork and so on, well, after I finished the training I would have had to serve in the police for at least six months. So, we reached an agreement with both the academy authorities and the municipal authorities, which was that I would train there an in exchange, we were going to talk about what was happening, which meant the process, about the Ecatepec police, to whom, to be honest, despite everything, at least what I could see is that a lot of the people that are in the police academy and in the Ecatepec police are people that wants to do things right, good people, honest people. At least that’s what I discovered from my experience. Obviously, every person might have a different one, but I met really good people, with good intentions and well, I graduated. I was going everyday, I was treated just like any other cadet.

In fact, no one knew I was an actor, except for the directors. Only the two of them knew that I was an actor, and well, obviously the municipal president, but apart from them no one else knew. And well, I finished my cadet training and thanks to all that experience I was able to play a role that ended up winning an Ariel and we also were part of the official selection of the Cannes Film Festival, we were in the main competition and we had a great chance of winning, but that was the year when everything happened with Florence Cassez (Not sure if I picked up the name right, but if it’s the right person, she is “a French woman convicted in Mexico of belonging to the kidnapping gang Los Zodíacos (The Zodiacs). She received a 60-year sentence for the crimes of kidnapping, organized crime, and illegal possession of firearms”.). And so there was a lot of…

The camera lens was turned the other way

Yes. I don’t want to say that that’s why… I don’t want to say that that’s why we didn’t win the Cannes Film Festival, but it did have an influence because there was a lot of general animosity towards us.

Tenoch Huerta, we reach the end of the program, the end of this episode. I want you to briefly answer me this last question. That little boy that wore his american football uniform, that little boy that went to college, where you explained that it was like arriving to kinder but 10 times worse, the one that started acting and has conquered international stages, how does he see the future? Where is Tenoch Huerta headed now?

I think that everytime I’m… It’s funny because I think that while my path goes further inward, the further inward I go, ironically, my career is taking me further outward, it’s taking me further in geographical terms, obviously in work terms too, but also in emotional terms. It’s taking me inwards, towards my heart, towards my spirit, towards my mind, towards love. The love I have at home, the love I have from my daughters, even the love from my puppies that were just barking, you know? I think that the further inwards I go, the more the world expands. It’s very funny, they say that universals become universal because they talk about the local, so I think that universalizing ourselves implies, or its first condition is being really honest with an introspective look to see the more human, because in the most intimate and in the most human, it's what we all connect on.

Tenoch, I wish you to continue winning on stages, to continue receiving interesting projects, to continue growing. I thank you for accompanying us until the end of this episode and I ask you to recommend a song to close.

Goodness! There’s a song that was considered the best song of the year and probably of the time, of the decade, it’s called “Oye Mujer” by Raymix. By the way, this dude, if I’m remembering it right, worked in a NASA project, experimenting with sounds and so on, so this dude takes part of the sounds he used the most, he’s an engineer, so he uses his knowledge to design this song that to me seems so beautiful, it’s one of my favorite songs because it’s so pretty and it gives me so much peace and it makes me… It’s funny because he uses sounds from NASA and truly, if you hear it, this song does take you to the stars, no matter how cliché of a romantic gentleman that might sound.

I thank you again, I send you a hug. And I’ll wait for you (the listener) in the next episode.

***

To be honest, I'm a bit dissapointed he didn't speak about future projects, but I understand he might not be able to or doesn't want to just yet. It was fun to know more things about his background, though. It's good to hear him again ❤️‍🩹

(Also he said PUPPIES as in more than one?? I'm DECEASED)

@teeunderscorebee @artintel001 @cutelatinagirl @observers-journal @talokanda-forever @cantstayawaycani @too-many-atoms @neoboha @aolechan @chaoticcatbunny

(sorry if I didn't tag you, as I said I'm rusty and can't remember more usernames rn lol or you speak spanish so this isn't useful to you <3)

[northwest-by-a-train]

Mutual 1: I wish someone could kill me so I could be reincarnated as a saxophone solo in Al Stewart's 1991 song Year of the cat

Mutual 2: Horror keeps piling upon horror and we will live old and wrinkled in this time of horrors. The only cure is to post black and white pictures of men who have problems

Mutual 3: killing baby Caesar does lengthen the lifespan of the roman empire by ~350 years, as it dissolves into some sort of federalist-feudalist structure not unlike the Holy Roman Empire. The main difference is that a sort of loose syncretic pan-imperial polytheism is the dominant religion, leading to Icelandic temples of Isis and Ethiopian temples of Epona. As such, this timeline was spared the drawbacks of a centralized state-enforced organized religion. The main drawback is that being a furry is considered blasphemy by the vast majority of humanity.

Mutual 4: if Pendleton Ward does not make Mr Cupcake a Trotskyist I will set the cartoon network offices on fire

Mutual 5: if Serial Experiments Lain was made today they would make her cis. Well. Not on my watch

Mutual 6: Can we take a minute here and normalize arms trading? Marginalized communities need those 3D-printed untraceable ghost guns with Family Guy muzzles, I need to make a living since I was thrown out of the commune by Hannah-Arendts-Strap (message me for details), Seth MacFarlane needs people to watch season 27. But Academia will talk about Kant's white-ass categorical imperative to argue no one should sell guns. Typical.

Mutual 7: I am in your walls. Why is there lead paint on your radium plumbing my dude. You know that's not aryuvedic.

Mutual 8: I'm sorry but Robespierre was a scapegoat of most of the French revolution's atrocities, and bourgeois reactionary elements have tried to turn him into a proto-totalitarian crazed madman, but the historical record paints a much more complex picture. Which is why I don't believe he would ever whip Danton's ass like you just wrote. He would be the one wearing the ball gag. How can I make you see the truth my brother ?

Mutual 9: Arabic and Eastern European poetry have been superior throughout the late 20th/early 21st century. We also have the best cigarettes. If we keep going we can surround Constantinople in the next decade, and restore the Palaiologos to their rightful place.

Mutual 10: The callout posts are true. Reflecting on it, it was obvious that our attempt to create a secret #LiberateBelize discord channel without British people was chavphobic. We are listening and learning.

Mutual 11: Pinkie Pie could negotiate the Oslo Accords, but Bill Clinton could never bag pony Weird Al

Mutual 12: If I think about Betty Groff for more than two seconds I'll divorce my husband. I got the papers and everything. But I won't. I'm brave like that. #ChristianLove

Mutual 13:

Mutual 14: I was visited by the virgin Mary last night. Again. She told me I can't make my girlfriend pregnant like that. Again. But I know Ron L. Hubbard is with me, and it's all that matters.

Mutual 15: Mustard gas doesn't even taste like mustard. You guys lied to me. My Mac & Cheese is ruined.

Mutual 16: Stop saying my think tank advocates killing orphans. We're pro-harvesting organs in youth correctional facilities for reduced sentences !!! But again we see the pro-carceral bias inherent to Lutherans. Have you guys even read Angela Davis ?

Mutual 17: Here's my solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict: spend a hundred billion dollars for multiversal research, reach the mirror universe. Israelis get the biblical kingdom of Israel borders on this earth, Palestinians get the 1948 borders in the mirror universe. I think this is the fairest deal America can offer at this time.

Mutual 18: I tried to live the life of a restless European adventurer in Macau playing roulette and serving as a mercenary to various conglomerates. Turns out they also charge rent there. And income is taxable too. And I bet everything on Red. And I don't speak Mandarin, Cantonese or Portuguese. Help me pay for my flight home! 6¢/50 000$ collected!

Mutual 19: Yeah the canonization of Bolaño as the latest LatAm literary genius speaks to a sort of general malaise in post-colonial literature due to the collapse of magical realism as a viable tradition for meaningful political messaging. So the literature of unease and obsession and maladjustment itself is canonized, like an oyster canonizing the grain of sand that's tearing it apart. The fact that no other major voice has really appeared on the continent within the past 20 years should tell us this isn't working. Which is why the Brazilian JoJo fandom has a unique opportunity to meaningfully impact the course of world literature. #Multipolarity

Mutual 20: wow guys someone left a tray of perfectly good Mac & Cheese on a windowsill! Yummy!

Mutual 21: Did medieval surgeons pulling teeth get erections? I wouldn't normally ask this of my followers but I'm arguing about Sex Work with the ghost of Andrea Dworkin and I need hard evidence (no pun intended lol)

Mutual 22: Electro-Swing is a Belgian psy-op. I can't prove it, but I know it

Mutual 23: I'm the first neutered catgirl to be tried in a military court. But I know I'm not the last.

Mutual 24: Did you guys know you could eat olives? The thing they make oil from? I ordered three kilos of motors, so I can eat it with my roommate's Mac & Cheese

Mutual 25: Anglicans, amirite ? [Sounds of raucous applause]

[spicybylerpolls]

Quoting an anon ask on the bylerconfessions antisex discourse blog:

"Ok, so I decided to bring a point of view that from what I've seen hasn't been brought up yet. The fandom has a lot of adults and we already know that. Some of these adults experienced adolescence in very complicated times, similar to the 80s. Let's not forget that even today in 2024 we have cities where being LGBT is still a huge problem. It wasn't easy for us to live our adolescence in such an environment and I'm sure many of us didn't have a good experience. So, some look for NSFW content related to Byler and not because they are fantasizing about them, but rather to see a better experience than the one they had or even in a more positive way with a ship that they really like and support. I believe there is no problem with this and it does not mean that the person has sexual desires for teenagers, as some people on the tag have said. I myself was the same age as them when I lost my virginity."

Yes!! But, this anon went on to say this:

"However, and here comes my other point, this doesn't mean there isn't a limit to it. Discussing fetishes openly, who has the bigger member between the two or other worse things that I've seen lately is really unnecessary. I've seen people saying that it's normal to talk about sex and I agree, but it's not like the topic is about problematizing sexual relationships between gays or something like that, or representation in the media, but really unnecessary things like "who gives the better handjob?" there is a limit and people are crossing it and using a shitty excuse."

and i couldn't help but agree.

'it's fine to project through fiction, but please don't use that as an excuse to make polls on "who's toes curl more" '

i love the freedom of this blog, but some stuff sadly slides into weirdness. someone should make a freakybylerpolls blog for the gratuitous stuff, and leave the pondering about actual possible healthy sex for byler in s5 to this one.

I understand this as a concept, but I think it would be strange for the fandom safe space for "spicy/problematic" questions to also become filtered and policed. I think it's a slippery slope and a very thin line when it comes to determining what falls into the category of okay and reasonable and what falls into the category of "too far." Especially if one blog is serving as the border control. Everyone has different tastes, everyone has different standards, everyone has different lines, and everyone has different comfort levels. And that's all okay!

I've received asks that are all over the spectrum. Some, like the "Who has more internalized homophobia?" question, aren't even spicy, and some are... um... very far on the other end of the spectrum. On my pinned post I do ask people to use discretion when submitting polls, but as a poll blog, I stay completely neutral. I'm not a preacher, I'm a messenger. I don't endorse or unendorse any specific question.

This blog is for fun! The purpose is for our fandom to explore the potentially taboo without shame. I get that not everyone may be comfortable with every poll even if they support the blog overall, but that's honestly what the "see results" button is for. If someone doesn't want to engage with a specific question, they can scroll past it or press that button to opt-out. Or if they're not feeling the blog as a whole, they can block the tag or block the account. No hard feelings!

Anti-censorship and freedom for all!

[askaceattorney]

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Hee-ho! Hee-ho! Hee-ho! Hee-ha! Hee-ha!

Co-Mod: Heeheeheehohohohohahahahahahaha!!! Is this a Luke Atmey impression contest or something?

Chief Mod Edgeworth: .....

have you never seen Persona 5 Strikers?

Co-Mod: Ah! No, I haven't. Thanks for the clarification.

Mod Zieks: What the hell is a persona, and why are they on strike?

Mod Gregson: Strikers is better than base Persona 5, I will not budge on this.

(Referenced Link)

Co-Mod: Looks interesting. A friend of mine got me into Power Rangers, which I found to be a lot more interesting than I expected for a kid's show, so I can imagine the same being true for this show. That being said, I probably won't have the time to watch it for a while, so that's all the feedback I can give for now.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Miraz van Nohrr,

Chief Mod Edgeworth:

Have you tried commenting through your computer or safari? See if those work. You will find it right here:

Dear Dawsongfg,

Co-Mod: Congratulations! Meanwhile, I have a cat (or rather, my parents do) that likes to drool on me and everything I own. As much as I love cats, nothing in this world will ever convince me to own one. Not one that drools, anyway.

Mod Gregson: I've got two cats! One is approaching 15 years and is still healthy and playful, one is 6 years old and is a grumpy old lady who refuses to let the older cat befriend her. Mod Zieks: I do as well! We all have our own little gremlins in our life. Mine is also a cat, a little tortie named Charlie. I love her, and she is just the silliest little thing.

Dear Jeffrey,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Congratulations on the new puppy.

Sorry about the loss of Dylan. I also lost my pet while she was getting spayed. I hope things go well for your new pet.

Co-Mod: Wait... You're saying that's not a real-life Scooby-Doo?

Just kidding. I'm glad he's been a help to you. My family went through a similar experience when our cat died by falling out of a tree during a storm. We missed having a cat in the house so much that we had to get a new one, so we did. Much like Dylan, she's not the same as our previous cat, but still a great source of joy for us.

Mod Gregson: I'm sorry for the loss of your puppy; I know that can be pretty tough. But I'm glad you've found a new friend and family member to help fill the void!

Mod Zieks: Congratulations on the puppy, and I'm sincerely sorry for your loss.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth:

Who knows? Though, that would be weird in my opinion.

Mod Gregson: Am I the only one who finds this a lot funnier than it should be? Imagining Turnabout Trump or Turnabout Succession but the only change is "Kristopher Gavin" is cracking me up. Yes, this is my sense of humor.

Mod Zieks: Based, but not my kind of based. Then again, mixing dreams and ace attorney brought us 'Country Gavin' (@doctorsiren)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Miles Edgeworth and Kazuma Asogi! What do you mean Mia or Klavier have better boobs?

Mod Gregson: Neither, I'm more of a legs gal!

Mod Zieks: It's a tie between Max Galactica from the circus cases and Miles Edgeworth.

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Uh-huh and you didn't send me a few previous anonymous letters under different names with the same fakemail.com or the oh so obvious Hotti letters with the same style of writing as you under different emails after sending this mod letter.

Mod Gregson: Oh, I have special words for you later. :)

Dear Miraz van Nohrr,

Chief Mod Edgeworth:

I've visited other states, but not countries. If I did, I'd likely go to Mexico, since my grandparents live at the border. Too bad I need a Passport.

Co-Mod: I visited Matamoros, Mexico once. From what I remember, it was just like being in the U.S., but with everyone speaking Spanish, everything being written in Spanish, and Mexican food tasting like Mexican food (not the Americanized version). Overall, it was pretty enjoyable.

Mod Gregson: I was born in Costa Rica, actually! Moved to the States when I was a young'un. I've gone back there a few times, and... I didn't really like it, but I apparently went to one of the worse parts of it, so maybe I can't judge? Mod Zieks: I've actually never gone out of my home state, and I'd like to change that someday. Preferably, moving from the States and going to the UK. Since their gender-affirming care is paid for by their universal healthcare, and their firearms laws aren't as loose.

- The Mods

[heta-micronomics]

May I ask about your KugSea thoughts? I'm starting to get interested in the pairing and want to talk about them..

The post about Peter running away from Kug (we should find a human name for him...) after Kug tried to kiss him was the blueprint for me. Now, I'm imagining Kug and Peter trying to figure out romantic gestures.. except it's more silly than it is "cute" because they're both merely creatures.

I usually use the name Fritz for Kugelmugel. It's my special brand of sad irony. He looks like dollar store Prussia and shares the name of one of Prussia's most fondly-remembered humans. Funny to me, lol.

In all honesty, I'm not sure what first made me first start shipping them. They kinda just popped up one day. In the past I've shipped MolSea, IceSea, SeaChelles, HongSea, AeriSea, toxic yaoi AmeSea in that one 2P AU... but ngl, none of them have hit me like these two.

For one, they're both founded on pretty similar principles: the preservation of art. Kugelmugel is literally art, and Sealand was founded by radio pirates fighting British censorship. I imagine they both like pushing boundaries and seeing just how far they can take things.

How far is too far? Who will stop them? Who can stop them?

For reference, I write Peter as being instinctively obedient. He was born into the military. He was bred to serve and taught to obey. But "Sealand" was a radical change, and the premise went against everything he had learned prior. Now, he tries to take up a leadership role. He's one of the better-known micros and wants to create something substantial, and for the most part, he loves it. He loves being a little bastard. But that gets exhausting. It's against his basal nature.

Kugel, on the other hand? His energy stems from disobeying. Experimentation and radical ideas fuel his creative process, and that's what keeps him going. He makes his own rules and enforces them, just like Austria. Peter let's him take the lead sometimes, and it's a relief.

For Fritz, he admires Peter so, so much. I imagine that given Austria's more classical art tastes, he'd have a lot of exposure to religious imagery and tends to subconsciously superimpose that onto a lot of things (autism). Peter is older than him, more powerful, and more well known. They're both prone to obsession, and Fritz's adoration borders on worship. Peter's his muse, his living art piece. He's an angel/Madonna/Christ figure/etc to Fritz. There's almost an air of idolatry/objectification, though it's accidental.

Peter matches him obsession-wise. He latches onto anyone who gives him affection or attention, and Fritz sure does that. Unfortunately, he takes after England in that he gets protective and possessive of him. I compare him to a dog a lot because it's true. Peter will resource guard Fritz out of fear of him leaving or being taken away.

How healthy they are for each other is debatable. But they DO make some crazy shit lmao.

Fritz gives art expertise while Peter handles engineering and building. They're rambunctious and unpredictable. I like to think they try to recreate all those weird "internet iceburg" vids like Soup. Avi. No real reason except they can and they want to freak some people out.

Also, I'm pretty sure Austria would not like Peter lmao.

[itwasthisorthemilitary]

March 18th, 2024

I had such a weird day? So after coming home from the doctors I sat in my bed here and cried for like 30 minutes. And then i was like “suck it up buttercup stop feeling sorry for yourself” and i went to the kitchen to socialize with my parents. We talked for HOURS about politics, my background in art, I learned how to make hojaldras (basically just fried dough), talked to my parents about my family back in the states, lied and said i broke up with a BF to come to Panama (Sorry Shawn 😉). Then at around 2 they were like “vamos” and for the hundredth time since this adventure began, I got into a car not knowing where i was going or for how long.

So i found myself at a beautiful house in Costa Rica. It’s where my mom’s parents, and other siblings still live. My grandmother lost her leg to diabetes so they decided to prick my finger to test my blood to see if the infection was related to diabetes? Rest assured, my blood sugar was normal (incredible considering how much sugar i have here).

Now this deserves its own paragraph.

THE COFFEE. Holy shit. At my real host family, they drink instant coffee and even so it’s not every day. Today, I had 5 cups of black coffee. This family roasts their own beans and honestly after cup five was the closest I’ve ever felt to believing in god. I was also vibrating.

In the house was me, my mom, my aunt, two uncles, the girlfriend of one of my uncles, and my grandparents. All of them are from/live in Costa Rica and even though we were less than 30 minutes over the border, the difference between Panamanians and Costa Ricans is incredible.

One of the aunts, Nana, lives at home and takes care of the grandparents. She’s their home nurse, educated in health care but also specializing in homeopathic remedies. This girl cleaned my feet meticulously. She then made a bath with warm water, saline, and salvia leaves to soak my feet and genuinely it was the best i felt all day. Afterward she rubbed some cream on it, don’t know what, but at this point i didn’t care. I was so grateful to be sitting with this family. I ate fresh pineapple and coconut and spent the day sitting around chatting. I was exhausted, from stress of missing class, battling an infection, and an entire day where I only spoke Spanish (aside from 20 minutes on the phone with Hannah).

As they drove me home around 9:45 we swung by my families restaurant (still in Costa Rica) to pick someone up and sitting there were my 4 supervisors….

They didn’t ask why i was in Costa Rica, standing barefoot in the street as i BEGGED them to let me come to class in the morning. Francisco seemed impressed that i was so adamant on attending and said that I can observe but not necessarily participate because I won’t be able to wear close toed shoes.

My family in Costa Rica says that I am welcome to visit anytime once I get assigned to my site. I get A LOT of bonus point with host families for having no preferences/restrictions from food. There are a lot of complaints about volunteers being picky. Mango hasn’t been an issue because it’s not in season yet. If you’re hungry enough, everything tastes good.

Today made me feel much more confident in my abilities to be at site alone. I saw none of my fellow volunteers all day and I was able to hold my own and make new friends.

[thesinglesjukebox]

LENIN - "INTIRAYMI"

Next, from Jessica, a Peruvian house banger with layers...

[7.46]

Jessica Doyle: Don't worry about the backstory yet, there's no rush. Let's start by enjoying a party jam whose ambition shows in its structure: in an era of two-minute songs and dance tracks with no actual rhythm, "Intiraymi" has not only the required bouncy chorus that ends with "ĄEs un carnaval!" but a distinct repeated pre-chorus and a distinct bridge during which to gear up for the final dance. Also, let's face it, this is the best use of strings in a K-pop or K-pop-adjacent song since the legendary "The Ghost of Wind." Even the song's more subtle touches -- that Lenin ends the initial rounds of the chorus on a lower note, so it has more impact when he doubles himself going higher at the end -- work in its favor. Okay, now we can throw in the backstory: Lenin Tamayo Pinares is the son of an Andean folksinger and native speaker of Quecha, and not only a self-produced musician but one committed to using contemporary Andean music as an agent of collective empowerment for indigenous minorities (and hopefully getting an undergraduate thesis done on the topic while he's at it). Fun is fun, and "Intiraymi" is well-crafted, contagious fun no matter how little time you want to invest in it, but you do need a little bit of context to understand why I want this man to realize all of his ambitions and then some. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: "This is not only a positive message," he said of his music. "It's a battle." [10]

Taylor Alatorre: If I were to listen to this without looking any further into Quechua culture, I'd have to guess that the Intiraymi is basically akin to a Copa América celebration. Lenin shows more interest here in creating sounds with cross-border appeal than in putting centuries of suppressed history on display, as is fully his right. Those violin breaks act as tethers to a living past rather than dusted-off artifacts of an ancient one, more evocative of extended family gatherings than Inca and Chanka glories. The sense of forced fun is never entirely absent, but that's something it has in common with family gatherings as well. [6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Intiraymi is a (Southern Hemisphere) Winter Solstice festival, so it feels appropriate to review "Intiraymi" as I experience the Northern Hemisphere equivalent. This is a banger for the shortest day of the year, a concentrated, poised delivery of hooks that eventually folds into a giddy, delirious fit of ecstasy. [8]

Ian Mathers: Of course, there are only so many combinations of different letters out there; when different languages share the same character sets, you're going to get some weird and/or funny overlaps. Which explains why someone going by Lenin is singing the praises of an Incan festival for the sun god. He's got an interesting background, but I don't have the context to know how significant the subject matter here is. But that's all kind of just background; I don't even need the subtitles to tell that the chorus is celebrating some sort of carnival, and infectiously so. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: An ebullient little house-pop charmer. It's a bit too cheery for my tastes, but those strings are something to celebrate. [5]

Brad Shoup: LENIN's very unsweaty take on K-pop is the draw for sure, but dig that chorus: it sounds like Suede. [7]

Michelle Myers: When you're a K-Pop fan, everything starts to sound like idol music. Tate McRae? She's K-Pop. Ed Sheeran? Totally K-Pop. Nu Metal? That's just Ateez with guitars. But Lenin Tamayo is different. He's purposefully trying to make music that sounds like the Peruvian equivalent of an early 2010s Kenzie banger. [8]

Frank Kogan: This is excitement from the start, the danceable violin riff and the floor beats coming in, a melody with punch and lilt, and on from there: fiddle breaks, sensitive idol star interludes, absolutely sing-a-long-able chorus. His voice is as small as Hilary Duff's, and the wails are more gestured at than actually wailing; so he's getting by on brains more than vocal cords. That's not bad at all, if the arrangements and songwriting get the music to go where he wants it, which they emphatically do here. [7]

Kayla Beardslee: It's so hard to go wrong with a rousing piano-house banger, and this one certainly doesn't! [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: The Inca had a pretty advanced understanding of astronomy. Based on the ruins they left behind, we know they could calculate the solstices with an impressive level of precision. They knew they lived in a clockwork universe, that the days would get shorter until a calculable date, after which they would start to get longer again. And yet, despite this scientific certainty, they still devoutly observed the Inti Raymi, a nine-day festival around the winter solstice dedicated to worshipping the sun god Inti. It's possible there were a few people in those crowds who gave themselves over fully to the supernatural, who worried that they days would keep getting shorter forever unless they properly demonstrated their devotion, but I think most people knew that the sun would return no matter what. That didn't make the Inti Raymi any less important to them. The return of the sun demands celebration, regardless of how your personal cosmology explains it. Anyway, I've been playing this song a lot lately. Today is the shortest day of the year. Tomorrow will be five seconds longer. I'm not saying I caused that, but I'm also not going to stop playing the song. Praise Inti. [9]

Will Adams: How refreshing for a cry of "es un carnaval!" to actually sound like it. How crucial it is for dance-pop bangers to be a little cheesy. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: Power in cheese. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - Past Made Present

Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Past (20,707 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 4/9

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up

“So, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything,” Zera said. “The twins’ parents? Their names are-”

“Marc and Mary?” Pacifica said, lifting her coffee cup to her lips. “Yep.”

“No way.”

“Well, Marcus and Marianne if you want to get technical.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Pacifica spluttered out her drink, trying to hold back the laughter. She put a palm over her chest. “Dead serious, honest.”

Zera wrinkled her nose. “And they gave their kids the names Mabel and Mason? Seriously?”

“Is it any wonder my husband goes by Dipper? Then again my family are hardly paragons when it comes to alliteration either. Thank the stars that Wendy breaks the trend.”

“Hear hear,” Zera said, raising her cup in mock toast. In her highchair, Wendy giggled and slammed her sippy cup on the table repeatedly.

After parting ways with the others, Zera and Pacifica had wandered down through the suburbs to the shopping district on Piedmont Avenue - which Zera was confused to discover was actually outside of Piedmont’s borders in the wider city of Oakland. Along with Wendy they’d found a small coffee shop. The square tables covered with wide umbrellas that shielded the afternoon sunlight gave them an ample view of the drying asphalt.

A thin layer of sweat had already built up on Zera’s skin. “It’s crazy how warm it is after this morning. I might need to take a dip in the bay to rehydrate.”

“You just wait for a real California summer, sister. Remember, I lived with the twins for a while, I know how bad the heat can get.” Pacifica delighted in squinting and blurring her vision. Before her eyes Zera morphed from her human disguise to her true self. Pacifica was amused by the incongruity of a blue fish alien sitting casually next to all the oblivious patrons of the coffee shop “You’re partly amphibious, yeah?”

Zera nodded. “At least this drink will keep me from drying out completely.”

She took a sip but Pacifica audibly scoffed. “How are you this basic? I thought, given all the globetrotting Mabel gets up to and the spacehopping you do, that you’d have a more varied palette. I was expecting you to like some weird mixture of grass smoothie with specially blended icing, or a rare middle-eastern tea. Something a tad exotic. But no: Pumpkin spice. Sometimes I forget you’re an actual alien.”

“Oh yeah, Miss High and Mighty, what’s your drink then?”

“It’s some kind of festive macchiato blend. I don’t know.” Pacifica scrunched up her nose. “Anyway, it’s beside the point. It’s an excuse to get a break from all of my husband’s tedious hand-wringings. Plus I thought it was high time the two of us had a proper conversation.”

“Really? That’s a new one,” Zera said, sitting back in her chair. She sipped her coveted latte for a moment, slightly frowning. “I always got the impression that you and Dipper didn’t like me very much.”

Pacifica raised a single eyebrow, as if challenging the statement. “Oh? What gave you that idea?”

“Well, the first time we met, when I tried to, you know: scam the three of you. Mabel was smitten and all, but you two - man, you sussed me out right away. After that… I guess I felt like you treated me as some hanger-on with May.”

Pacifica flashed a reassuring grin. “Eh, that stuff’s all water under the bridge. Uh, not that I meant to make a pun on the fact you’re aquatic.” Zera reacted with her lip set in a line. “I’ve said it before, we’re sister-in-laws now,” Pacifica said in an attempt to mollify the alien. “That means we’re family, no matter how strangely we all came together. Mabel may have unique tastes, but she chose right with you.”

“Thanks,” Zera murmured. “That makes me feel a bit less like an outsider.”

“Trust me, you’ll settle in fast. Wait until Marc reads his Christmas cracker jokes over dinner. We’ll all be in the same boat, cringing.”

“Except May. She loves cheesy jokes.”

“Ha, fair point.” Pacifica blew on her drink and took a sip, careful not to get foam all over her mouth. She idly stirred the liquid. “You know, I had coffee like this once with Wendy - Corduroy I mean - back before our portal quest. After motherhood that feels like a very long time ago.”

“You named your daughter after someone you only had coffee with once?” Zera asked, almost impressed.

“It was complicated, and mostly Mason’s idea. She did save my life, but tried to kill us several times, and saved the entire multiverse with her sacrifice. I dunno, there are complex feelings. Lately I’ve been taking to calling her Leah; that’s her middle name.” Pacifica tickled her daughter’s face. “You’re gonna like high class things when you’re older, aren’t you Leah? Aren’t you? You won’t have basic tastes.”

“Ha ha,” Zera deadpanned. “That’s a nice name for her though, Leah Pines.”

Pacifica frowned. “Although it is another in-joke technically. Mason wanted a subtle reference to his Great Uncle Stan.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Stanley. Leah. See? It’s kinda silly but Mason was keen and I didn’t feel like objecting. Kind of regret that now. He was naming her like it was the epilogue of Harry Potter, talk about tacky.”

“I’ll have to remind myself to ask Mabel what that means, since I’ve never heard of it.”

“She’ll probably say you’re better off not knowing. Like this whole debacle with their parents. Let them figure it all out, I don’t care.”

“You’re not tempted to intervene? Not even a little?” Pacifica gave a tiny shrug. “And here I was told you used to be a gossip magnet.”

“You couldn’t pay me to wade into this debate.” She slouched back in her chair. “It reminds me too much of my own parents. All that tiptoeing around, keeping part of myself hidden. It was hell. Everything was so much better after I actually got angry with them. The twins will be the same, as soon as they get this off their chest they’ll stop being so useless with worrying about it.”

Zera paused for a moment, then whispered. “So, Marc and Mary? Go on then, tell me the story.”

“There’s not much to tell: That’s the point, they’re average. Mary works as a receptionist in the twins’ old elementary school and Marc is a computer programmer. Has a job in some high-rise over in the financial district, strictly on the low end of the totem pole sadly.”

“There’s gotta be more to it than that though. Come on, you’ve known them for years. Why are they so… unlike the twins?”

Pacifica mulled this over, watching steam float off her drink. “Well, they had kids pretty young, like barely out of their teens. No-one ever plans for twins. Hell, they didn’t even know it ran in the family back then. And once you’re a young couple burdened with an over-imaginative bundle of energy like Mabel and a socially-awkward know-it-all like Mason you’ve got a recipe for chaos. Add in the fact those kids were fiercely protective of each other and it’s no wonder this divide grew to such big proportions.”

“It all sort of… happened by accident then? A mix of personality issues and different paths in life?”

“When you put it like that, pretty much. They did a good job handling the twins though. Raised them right with strong morals, even before their Grunkles got a hold of them. Although I’m not sure morally upstanding is a phrase that could ever describe Stanley Pines.” Zera was processing all this when Pacifica continued. “Look, if you really want a root cause to everything that led the twins apart from their parents then it goes back to my husband. He had an anxious moment all those years ago and has been carrying it around with him ever since. Mason’s had a thing about blindly trusting people ever since he found Journal 3. It might have made sense when he was 13, but now? He’s a husband and a father, with adult responsibilities and a life of his own. But we can’t force him to say anything. He and Mabel have to confront this on their own terms. Talk about a messed up family.”

“Not like you,” Zera said. “You’re completely different of course, with your adopted war orphan, newborn baby, and no steady income. All perfectly stable.”

“Low blow, S’aren, low blow.”

“Careful, better not buy another croissant or you might go bankrupt.” They both laughed. “You think Dipper and Mabel will get through it ok?” Zera asked, serious again. “They were split apart before, right?”

Pacifica chewed her bottom lip. “I think this time they’re united well enough. They certainly aren’t about to fall out like they did in the past. Who knows honestly. Like I said, what happens between them and their parents is their business. We’re here to support the twins and give advice, but I’m not about to get in the firing line once Mason finally opens up about magic and junk.”

“Hmm, I guess they are very close.”

“Take it from one Pines to another, there are only three topics you can bring up that will guarantee the twins will argue non-stop for a few hours: Whether direct action is more effective than protest marches, the pros and cons of nuclear power, and live-action Disney musical remakes.”

“Wait, what’s with the last one?” Zera asked.

“Trust me, don’t ask. I’ve seen the debates. Heated doesn’t begin to describe it. The fiery heart of the sun would be a cool winter’s day in comparison.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Zera stirred her latte. “With all this talk about parents, I was wondering. Have you ever thought about reconnecting with yourparents?” Pacifica choked on her drink for the second time. “Ooh, sore subject.”

“Now who’s joking?” she gasped, reaching for a serviette. “There’s a reason Marc and Mary had to take me in at 17. They’re saints compared to my dear old mom and dad.”

Zera smiled to herself. “Ok, drama queen. Sorry I brought it up.”

Pacifica tapped a finger repetitively on the table, before deciding to answer. “My parents made a lot of mistakes when I was growing up. Trying to introduce them to my family is a hassle I don’t need. I don’t know which of my kids they’d be more offended by, the full-blooded alien or the one with 50% of Mason’s genes.” She ruefully laughed. “Now there’s an irony. I couldn’t get my parents to care even when the supernatural was staring them right in the face. If they couldn’t make a profit off it it might as well not exist. What I wouldn’t have given to have parents like the twins, they’re actually there when they need them. I’m sure you can relate, growing up in space nursery with a million other tadpoles.”

“It was tough, yeah. I suppose it’s a good thing you and Dipper stepped up for Merrise, made sure she has a roof over her head and two people who love her unconditionally.”

“Uh, thanks,” Pacifica said, blushing a little from the praise. She’d always seen it less as something she had a choice in and more a duty. Merrise had shown up in their lives with nowhere else to go and they’d quickly come to adore her. Leaving her behind seemed absurd.

“See, you were right, we can be friends,” Zera teased. “Genuine praise makes both of us feel embarrassed.”

“Cheers to that,” Pacifica said, grinning and glad to have finally made something of a connection with the alien whom Mabel so adored. She was about to take another sip of her macchiato when a faint ripple danced across the surface of the liquid. “Uh oh.”

“What?” Zera asked, none the wiser.

A second, larger ripple shook her drink. “I think we’re about to have some trouble.” The table began to shake, rattling the cups and cutlery. The pine tree shaped pendant Pacifica always wore began to spin and she sighed. “I can’t go one day without them somehow-”

The monster seemed faintly ridiculous, cantering down the high street on narrow legs which supported a bulky upper torso and arms as thick as oak trees. Golden orbs trailed slightly behind, hovering above what passed for the creature’s neck. Pedestrians began running from their tables in panic. The chimaera picked up speed, rocking Pacifica and Zera’s table so hard it nearly toppled over.

A second later a bright pink car sped past the coffee shop, engine revving loudly. Pacifica leapt up from her seat, slung Wendy into a pouch across her chest, and set off after the car, all in one fluid motion. Zera did a double-take, blinking in confusion, before setting down her cup and flailing to her feet. “Wait for me!”

The Mini hurtled along the streets of San Francisco in hot pursuit. Mabel was no stranger to hairpin turns and insane acceleration, but her brother, parents, and niece were being juddered around constantly. She was worried they’d lose the chimaera when they veered near to Lombard Street, but the creature avoided the steep turns. The dense traffic in the city centre forced both the car and its quarry to slow. Self-driving vehicles littered the road at odd angles, having been unable to process the danger in time to swerve out of the way before being knocked aside in the chimaera’s wake.

Honking the horn, Mabel watched the creature weave through the slowly moving cars ahead of them. “Forget the car,” Dipper said, undoing his seatbelt. Merrise and Mabel leapt out of the car, while his parents were still reeling from the chase and struggling to release themselves. “Stop!” Dipper cried at the creature.

He was self-conscious of all the eyes on him. They hadn’t quite reached the most populated part of the city, but there were still countless passers-by along the street staring in disbelief at the Frankenstein’s Monster wildly careening around. Revealing the supernatural to his parents was one thing. Winding up on local news was another. The truth about weirdness wasn’t entirely clandestine - after all he’d encountered many individuals who’d independently stumbled onto cryptids and magic outside of the Falls. But broadcasting it to the world still felt like a transgression.

He had to end this quickly. He began to march determinedly down the street after the slowly trotting monster. Mabel called out to him. “What are you doing Dipper, are you nuts?”

“I have to go talk to that thing!” he said without turning. “It isn’t evil.”

“Uh, did you miss when it rampaged through the world’s greatest monuments!?”

“This thing only coalesced today. It’s probably confused and overwhelmed. If I talk to it I might be able to calm it down.”

Mabel seemed indecisive, but nodded anyway. “Ok bro. If you think you know what you’re doing.”

“I’ll come too”, Merrise said, trying to follow her father. She was still hobbling slightly on her grazed knee.

Mabel held out an arm and nudged her back in. “Nuh uh missy, you’re staying with me where I can keep you safe. Let your dad have a go first.” Merrise pouted and feebly slunk into her seat next to her grandparents. Unlike Merrise, who knew the dangers ahead of them, Mr and Mrs Pines had no such hesitations in going after Dipper. This may be a startlingly unexpected set of circumstances for them but they weren’t about to let their son stroll into the midst of the action without any guarantees of his safety.

“Son!” Mr Pines called. “Don’t stick your neck out for nothing!”

Mabel now had to contend with the unenviable task of keeping her parents back from the danger zone. She held her arms back and had to physically hold them at bay. Her mother stood back and gave her sternest glare. Somehow even Pacifica’s hardest stares paled in comparison to the ‘Mom Glare’. “Mabel Jessica Pines, you get out of my way right this instant.”

“Can’t do that Mom, really sorry.” Mabel grimaced and snuck a look over her shoulder. Dipper was right in front of the beast. “Someday we’ll look back at today and see it as a real turning point.” Neither of her parents were impressed by that.

Squeezing through the stalled traffic, Dipper yelled towards the back of the vast chimaera, which was forcing cars out of the way to get through. The golden stars that sufficed for the creature’s eyes turned to consider him. “Hey, Journal Man… uh, Llama-Tree-Star-Centaur… thing. Ugh, Mabel was always better at coming up with the names.”

The creature regarded him with a look that might almost have been quizzical, before letting out a roar of anger. It wrenched the nearest streetlight out of its foundations and hurled it towards Dipper. He wanted to appear on top of things, both to intimidate and pacify the creature and to make himself seem self-assured for his parents’ sake, but he had to dive out of the way in an undignified manner, tumbling onto the ground and landing hard on his journal.

“Right, that’s it.” He stood back up and dusted the grit off his jacket. He pointed at the scowling chimaera. “You might act tough, but I need answers.” He flipped through Journal 9 and clutched it in his palms. A certain incantation was written on the page he’d selected. Mabel might be the more accomplished spellcaster, but on this occasion he was willing to give it a go. He placed one palm on the open page and shouted at the beast. “Ipso Facto, Lorem Ipsum!”

A hurricane of words spiralled off the page and slammed into his enemy. The incandescent letters coiled around in the air, before merging into the monster’s flesh and bark. The creature coughed a few times, struggling to form sentences. The spell Dipper had read out was meant to translate specific languages, very handy for deciphering ancient codes. In this instance he was hoping it would make the creature a bit easier to understand, as well as making it stick around, awed by his powers.

Feeling quite impressed with his attempt at the spell, Dipper allowed himself a moment of smugness. “Now, are you going to explain what you want?”

“Must… catalogue all unique incidences and occurrences. Unusual artefacts, creatures not found in any bestiary, sacred sites and technological wonders beyond man’s wildest dreams.” Dipper felt momentarily wowed by the creature’s eloquence. It was embodying the journals to a tee and as before spoke with a multitude of voices juggling for dominance. Right now the chorus favoured Pacifica’s tones. “I am diary, journal, epistolary, record, and scribble. I am what’s hidden between the lines, confined to the margins, buried in subtext! I am Errata!” The sigil acting as the creature’s mouth twisted into an approximation of a smile.

Dipper opened his journal and scribbled a note. “Errata… is that with two T’s, or-”

“Silence!” The sigil curved into an ugly expression. Dipper’s attempt at levity had evidently failed to be appreciated. The creature wrapped its arms over its chest and shivered. “Mason Pines, you are prolific in my tapestry. Amongst the rest you imbued so much of your essence into me. You could say I’m an open book.”

“Ha,” Dipper said without humour. “So, you have intelligence, you can recognise me. Do you, I don’t know, revere me or something?” He resisted the urge to lift up his hair to show the constellation birthmark as if it might sway the beast over to his side.

Errata laughed with the mocking guffaws of Stan Pines. “No thank you, human. I am an independent entity now, not some puppet.”

“What do you want then? Just to wander around causing havoc?”

“I hunger for esoteric knowledge. I must consume that which is forbidden or arcane and feast on the ignorance of fools. Perhaps I will take some of your secrets, Mason.” Dipper took a step back. He was starting to suspect his hypothesis about the creature’s innocence was misplaced. That sounded like deliberate malice.

“Hey, we can help you. My family knows all sorts of stuff… although I suppose you’re probably made out of all of it already.” Dipper felt like he was running out of options. The creature didn’t seem swayed by his words.

Sniffing the air, Errata winced with pain, as if suffering from a headache. “This place is so mundane, so trivial. My apotheosis is incomplete. Perhaps I can speed things along.”

“Woah woah woah, you don’t have to do anything rash-”

The chimaera ignored him and spread his hands wide towards the sky. Columns of steam shot out and Dipper started to sweat. The creature screamed in a mix of pain and pleasure, a single great exaltation. Then it was gone, melting away like a ghost. In its place, more of the golden aura, a sight Dipper was growing to greatly dislike squinting at. Unlike the painstaking birth of the chimaera, this aura formed a recognisable shape almost instantly.

Dipper had to do a double take. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Errata had come from the journal after all.

Standing before him was a Mishipeshu, a fur-coated mix of catfish and tiger. This was his most recent find recorded in the journal, which they’d helped rescue in Salem. But as soon as the water-panther tried to bound away it melted back into plasma. A second later it reformed into a gangly legged, stalk-like alien with a bulbous cranium and protruding whiskers. Dipper recognised this as one of the Grown, a colonising fungus species Pacifica had extensively detailed in her journal after an encounter on a far-off planet.

Even this didn’t last, with the apparition morphing straight into a familiar pack of pointy-hatted gnomes, then a moustache-wearing hexagon and a flying phoenix he knew as his daughter’s pet. On and on it went, unable to fix on a single appearance and drawing from the collection of journals his family had contributed to in the last half a century. Even human beings appeared in the mix - if a Pines had written about or sketched someone then they were fair game.

Eventually the mass of energy split apart. Two or three distinct constructs began to run off into the city, each one morphing between different shapes from the journals and retaining that unmistakable golden hue. Dipper watched as a cackling hand-witch sprinted off in one direction, a hairy Standyak leapt off onto the nearest rooftop, and a herd of manotaurs charged down the street towards the Mini. Mabel climbed onto the nearest car to avoid the stampede, and Merrise was buffeted in the car.

Mr and Mrs Pines were directly in the path of the manotaurs. Dipper fruitlessly reached out a hand but they were too far away for him to do anything. Utterly lost, his parents stood there frozen like deer in headlights. He winced and fell to his knees, unable to prevent the collision.

Until an orb of orange fire consumed them first. Dipper’s jaw dropped, as the stampede thundered on. A second later his parents re-emerged on the sidewalk out of another cone of fire. Dazed, they were both shaken but otherwise unhurt. Dipper breathed a sigh of relief. As the clatter of hoofbeats faded away he saw Zera, deep in concentration just up the street.

Running up towards him, Pacifica was carrying Wendy in a sling. She helped him to his feet. “Easy there. It’s over.” Dipper stared around at the chaos. It was just like the golf course, with cars strewn about and people hiding behind cover, scared to come out.

“Oh Paz, it’s only just begun- ow!”

She’d punched him in the arm. “Don’t give me that over-dramatic crap. That’s for summoning up a magical demon in the single hour we were apart. C’mon Mason, that’s rule number one of good parenting.”

He could only laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I’m just glad to see you guys. We’re going to need all hands on deck to deal with this. A creature infestation is about to be let loose all over the city!”

“One thing at a time.” Her eyes flicked over to the Mini, where Mabel and Merrise had reunited with Zera. The alien was helping Mr and Mrs Pines after their near-impact. Mabel came over and led her parents to a nearby bench.

“That was… I don’t know what that was,” Mr Pines said, slightly crazed with adrenaline. Mrs Pines was staying silent for now, processing all that had happened in the last few minutes. “Zera, what on Earth just happened?” He had seen the magical aura surrounding her when she’d cast the teleport spell, a special technique favoured by her teacher in the mystic arts.

Zera kicked her heels and remained tight-lipped, unsure how much to reveal even now. Mabel’s face was full of indecision, so Zera caved. “It was a teleportation vortex. I moved you out of the way of the herd using… magic.”

“Ha, of course,” Mr Pines replied, laughing hysterically. “Next you’ll tell me you’re from another planet. What, do you, ha, have your own spaceship or something?”

“No, I don’t have a spaceship,” Zera deadpanned, and Mabel drew a sigh of relief. The true nature of her wife’s identity could stay hidden for the time being. “Not my own anyway. If I put out a beacon or something I could probably hitch a lift off world.”

Her father’s laugh died in his throat. “You’re… you’re serious.” He was now staring agog. Zera toyed with her earring and Mabel knew this was it. If she switched off the filter there was definitely no going back. This was the last possible moment they could backtrack. They could paper over all of this, maybe claim it as some kind of massive joke gone way out of hand. It could all be wrapped up and hidden again just like Dipper wanted.

On the other hand… in one simple second it would all be over, the charade, the lies of the last 20 years, the anxious waiting for the bubble to burst. So Mabel stood there and let her wife deactivate the illusion. No putting the genie back in the bottle now.

Zera tapped her earring. A brief ripple passed over her body. Her tanned skin became iridescent scales tinged aqua and turquoise, and the fins on her head and arms unfurled. “This is me,” she said, flashing a toothy grin and giving a thumbs up to Mabel. She could only shake her head at her wife’s innocent naivety.

“Holy cats…” her father began, but Mrs Pines interrupted.

“You really are an alien. A real life, actual alien.” Tentatively she reached out and brushed against Zera’s scales. They were smooth and slightly moist. Her fingers recoiled. “Let me guess,” she said somewhat bitterly, “My daughter fell in love with your human form then found out the truth?”

“Not exactly. Mabel fell in love with the fish part first.” Mrs Pines gave a small whimper. Zera smiled weakly. “You know, I was telling the truth about the magic as well. I suppose you could call me a space witch.”

“Z?” Mabel said.

“Yeah?”

“Not helping.”

“Oh.”

Pacifica was suddenly beside them, snapping her fingers. “Yo, ‘shape of water’, let’s focus. You can destroy all semblance of your perfect family life later. Right now we’ve got a bigger problem.”

Dipper was already strapped in and starting up the car with Merrise in back. She was gesturing for them to get in. There was only enough room for three more passengers and Mabel decided she couldn’t bear the thought of enduring the car ride back with her parents. “Zera? Whoosh us up another portal, would you babe?” Zera nodded, realising what she wanted. She flashed an apologetic look at her in-laws, then started speaking the words of the incantation.

Mabel hugged each of her parents, one after the other. “I promise, we’ll help you understand all of this when we get home. Or, at least Dipper will. This was all his bright idea in the first place.”

With that she stepped into a column of blinding fire and was whisked away, leaving her befuddled parents staring speechless.

[yourlakebed]

this made me extremely emotional..

i don't remember some huge parts of my life, but i remember vividly, as if it's happened just now, the moment i woke up alone in my flat, opened the phone and read that we're being attacked. by bombs. i had about an hour to pack a suitcase (just now i realise how stupid of me was to think i'd had so much time). i was shocked but i remember being weirdly calm.. almost indifferent. i was just standing in the middle of my flat not fully processing what to do next, what to take with me, trying to understand if I'll ever come back (i never have and never will). i wasn't even scared. i was angry (that's probably also weird, l know). i lived on the edge of Kyiv then, right near the beginning of a highway, and as i stepped out of the building the first thing i saw were tanks. our tanks. they were heading out of the city in the direction towards russian border. and they gave absolutely zero shit about traffic rules smashing and going over the fenders, and driving on the wrong side of the road - that shocked me the most. that altered my brain chemistry: realisation that the urban rules by which you lived your whole life don't work anymore. so i took my suitcase and went alongside the road. soon my father picked me up and took us all outside of the city (sounds easy, but many people died that day trying to get out). i got lucky. stupidly. with no reason. i just got fucking lucky. not all of my friends did.

i moved to germany with my mother and younger brother and had been staying there for year and a half.. and then i was dead. it was the worst year and a half in my entire life (and I've had lots of bad years in my life). so i came back to Ukraine and I'm alive again. but I'm like a living dead. or at least i will have to carry that dead rotting piece of myself with me for the rest of my life (if i live long enough to have the rest of my life). the air alarms on new year's eve and two days before that barely went silent. even now, writing this i hear a siren. I'm not scared. I'm angry.

I'm trying to come up with the moral of the story but failing. you can do it yourself i guess.. idk. i could have been that dead woman, found on the road in Bucha with the "we are EU" key trinket squeezed between her painted fingermails, her body ripped and dirty and bloody, her suitcase next to her. or i could be that girl locked and burned in the car by russian soldier (idk if she had anything with her). or i could also be that daughter lying dead on a pavement beside her mother and father and younger brothen (covered with some cloth), their two suitcases still in their hands. i have no idea what was inside that suitcases. but i know that i was lucky to even become a refugee.

i gifted my partner "Trigger Warnings" book as a new year's present, which I'm now going to go and steal from her room to read myself. and on the first page i wrote for her "thank you for loving me when i still tasted of heartache and war".

“Two Minutes to Run”

Thank you. But (or maybe And). . . .

 “What will you take you?” is a question people think they can answer, but can’t until it happens.  It’s like being faced with the danger of death - some people freeze, some people run, some people laugh and charge. But you don’t know which you will do until faced with such danger. Same with the moment of fleeing. People don’t think, they react. 

Some people react practically. They grab official identification and jackets and water. 

Some people react sentimentally. They grab stuffed animals and photos and books.

Some people react frantically. They grab the coffee grinder and. . . .and. . . .time’s up. They have the coffee grinder. 

I am a professor of archaeology who studies diaspora and immigration and identity through the things people keep and collect and move with them. I have found bodies of refugees who have died along the US border fleeing to a better life. Many of my fellow archaeologists have too. And our graduate students - one who did an exhibit on the objects found in temporary camps and on the bodies of the dead.  So we know what people take, but we also know what people shed as they flee and it gets harder and harder and harder to stay alive. But you know what the bodies of those who didn’t make it almost always have on them? Identification. Sometimes in a pants pocket, sometimes sewn into a coat, sometimes grasped in their hands. A final plea. Do not forget who I am. Tell my family. 

My point? I don’t know. You are one of my few remaining living heroes, your writings have been a companion to me since I stole my ex-boyfriend’s Sandmans from him in 1990 when in college. And I know I am not special in this (well, the stealing of Sandmans maybe). Your words have a power that mine do not. Whether fiction or non. So I guess I just wanted you to have more information so you can continue to make the world an even better place. 

I guess that is my ask - continue to make the world a better place, which is response enough to my inquiry. 

Thank you for writing this.

[izercharo]

Erm guys, have this totally random piece of writing I never shared here. Dunno what to tag it

Mother gave me this book to write in.

Paper books are rare. I'm thankful for it.

---

The food processor broke today, so a group went outside the town to find some parts.

I sometimes wonder what is out there, beyond our home.

Father says the whole world was once full of other people before the flood, with buildings reaching the skies and technology so advanced it was almost magic. But that our greed made us fight eachother.

We don't know how much time it has been since the floods, but Grandma and her friends think it's been atleast a few thousand. They said something about 'air polution decreasing a lot' or atleast that's what I remember.

We think there might be something outside our forest, besides the second town up north.

Not monsters, those don't exist.

Maybe it's other people? That would be cool. But I don't want to meet them. They probably have an ecosystem they live in, just like us. I don't want to disturb that, but I hope they're okay if they're out there.

I think Mother had an expression for that... 'Live and let Live'? That's most likely it.

---

One of the kids, Morgan, said he wants to build a HUGE tower for everyone. He said each floor would have their own playgrounds.

That would be cool.

The adults said it's a good idea, but it would be better to do underground.

Makes sense, better to not attract attention to ourselves.

---

A weird looking yellow creature in a basket got dropped near the town's border.

Sandra said it looks like a squid from the books. I wonder what squid tastes like.

It's definetely not any animal we know of. Maybe it's an evolved squid? Weird evolution for such a short amount of time then. Why would look like that and be all the way out here? Is there an ocean nearby? I'll have to ask Father about that later.

---

The adults presume it's a baby of some kind, we don't know if it's sapient or not.

My parents decided to keep it.

It'll either be a new pet, or a younger sibling for me. Both options are good.

I made a space in my room for both outcomes.

[musicarenagh]

Crossing Musical Frontiers: Sugar Scars' Journey Hey, do you know Sugar Scars?They are this cool group of musicians from the Juarez-El Paso border region. Their music, for that matter, is so entirely different from one another - it is as if they have combined all the cultural trends from both cultures and created something different! These guys are all about providing those special moments on the dance floors you might be looking for, right?Just when people are all dancing about and grooving to the beat. Their songs touched me too, they sing about love and all those things that people get emotional about. They recently released a new single titled “Miss U” in the last week of June. It is a track which will be included in the album ‘Rhythmic Body Reflexes. ’ That song is just impressive; it has raw beat, distorted synth strings, and eerie vocals. Another lovely aspect of Sugar Scars is how they mix various styles. The thing is that it is not only in one genre ,it is like they have their own thing going on. For our next interview let us get a chance for you to be familiar with Sugar Scars as we engage them in a discussion on inspirations, creative work and the process that led to their unique music taste. Listen to Miss U https://open.spotify.com/track/1Tkjo7G9x1nKL89m36aZGi?si=3b664126427c4fd3 Follow Sugar Scars on Soundcloud Youtube Spotify Instagram What is your stage name? We go by Sugar Scars Is there a story behind your stage name? Mmm.. Well to us, there’s always been this beauty between pain followed by cathartic realization. Kind of like a relief or epiphany that brings some happiness to your heart. So sugar is something sweet that comes from a scar which is bodily evidence of pain hence the name, Sugar Scars Where do you find inspiration? Wow, from the most random places .. all I know is that when we feel inspired,we quickly take advantage and hit the studio. It’s kind of like inspiration finds us rather than the other way around What was the role of music in the early years of your life? It’s weird because no one in our families were musicians, So it didn’t really play a role in our preteen years, but everything changed in the teens ..I guess cause that age is when you think you know everything and you are conflicted about who you are as a person and that is where art comes in because it’s a reaction in expressing your reality. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Not me.. I think Luis is. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? I think shity lives and feeling hopeless inspired us… lol.. but as far as the word industry goes.. that’s a word we don’t like. When I think of industry, I think of child labor, slave labor, environmental destruction. We just see it as a necessary evil. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? By having inspiration and desire. That gave me the motivation to teach and push myself to learn chords and to progress. After that you must be brave and show what you have.. without caring how other people see it. What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? My family and I went to this waterpark during Memorial Day. They had live bands there. I saw a local cover band, followed by Steppenwolf. How could you describe your music? Damn, that’s hard to answer. It’s basically a mix of any sound we like in any genre by any artist. From there,we make the song our own. Because at the end,what is music?? It’s just 12 notes that you use differently to produce the sound that makes you happy [caption id="attachment_56155" align="alignnone" width="532"] It’s basically a mix of any sound we like in any genre by any artist.[/caption] Describe your creative process. Well we show each other parts that we wrote wile being inspired. Then we add to to it till it’s done. We each add our own flavor then we both have to agree on what we wrote for it to be recorded. What is your main inspiration? Anything that will make us get off our ass and find an instrument to create.

It could be a sound or phrase. Sometimes I just play my guitar to distract me from my restless mind and something comes out that is inspiring. It just kinda happens. The point is, that there is not only one thing that can inspire. It’s actually all over the place. What musician do you admire most and why? Wow.. mmm.. probably the founding fathers like Little Richard, Robert Johnson, Chuck Berry. They basically created something that changed everything. I credit them with discovering Rock n Roll . They had an idea that revolutionized the world. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? Absolutely. if you ain’t growing, then you’re shrinking. Who do you see as your main competitor? Wow, let me see it could be ourselves not reaching our own potential.. depression not allowing us to be inspired… other musicians trying to make a competition out of art. There is a lot of competing entities What are your interests outside of music? Breathing and eating. Just kidding. Mmm Drawing, buying records,reading … Having OCD and organizing my clothes by color and alphabetizing my medication lol If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? Damn we’d be dead , Addicted to drugs and homeless.. I don’t know really.. that’s a big plot twist. I guess every human being could have a surprising explanation. It wouldn’t be reality unless it really happened so that’s a tough one. Who knows how we would react to certain realistic pressures. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Being very hard on yourself for not producing the right musical idea.. the apathy of some people, Close-mindedness.. being sabotaged by other artists .. having secret haters.. It’s a long list. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? Do not allow businessman to run the industry, but instead unbiased artists. It just seems like everything that corporations and stock owners put their hands on becomes corrupted and motivated by only profit. Why did you choose this as the title of this project? I guess the title , “ Rhythmic Body Reflexes”refers to just dancing ( moving) naturally as a-response to music. That’s like the most natural reaction of expression to something that moves you. It’s kinda magical. https://open.spotify.com/artist/3WCaN9QEGnSeC67w0n1LCQ?si=iexUhGpcTgOfulGMNY_W0g What are your plans for the coming months? Playing more shows and continue writing for our next project Do you have any artistic collaboration plans This whole project is based on artistic collaboration. It’s very difficult to find someone that understands music the way you do and that complements you artistically. So we’re keeping it just between us. What message would you like to give to your fans The one that Poet wrestler John Cena gave.. “ Hustle Loyalty and Respect”

[dykedragonrider]

Okay flashbanging you with a dozen questions now 1 (I wanna know what to order myself cause i don't have one), 6, 7, 8, 11, 13, 17, 21, 25, 27, 28, 30 30: Any irrational fears?

1. Never been to chipotle so we are both lost here.

6. I have a pocketwatch that's really nice I got gifted a while ago but I do not carry it on me, I should tho.

7. I love rays and eels. Tie.

8. No??? Do people do this??? I know people that do it for shoes and that makes sense but???

11. Every single stuffed animal, including one that is older than some of my friends.

13. Crossing a border probably??? I have people I would want to kill but the best revenge is living well so I don't really need to.

17. I know I have them but I cannot think of many on the spot? I guess the fact that I open doors with my knees sometimes to keep my hands clean (thanks contamination ocd)

21. I don't know. I have never taken the time to create weirdness associations with numbers, so, I guess two on account of the whole "even prime" thing?

25. On the one hand I listen to a lot of the music I liked as a teen (post hardcore/emo shit) but that shit owns, and my tastes have broadened beyond that so like. I'd say mine is good. NIN has been probably my favorite band for 15+ years that's gotta count for something as well? Much like a lot of my artistic tastes, I thank my dad for being an english major with untreated mental issues.

27. Black on black and a jacket because I cannot insulate myself. Nothing too special, I'd probably slut it up more if I didn't hate the texture of sunscreen tbh, I look fire in crop tops.

28. Chocolate covered strawberries.

30. I can't even name something in specific I fear in the first place.

[amitapaul]

12/6

#24GloPoWriMo

6/4/24

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Prompt Dated : 2024 April 6

Response No : 1

Poem No: 12

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Prompt : Write a poem rooted in “weird wisdom,” by which we mean something objectively odd that someone told you once, and that has stuck with you ever since.

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Featured Poem

Today, our featured participant is Skrol an Yeth, where you’ll find a response to Day 5’s prompt in not just English but Welsh!

ON VANITY

An vanita a dhornskriven

The vanity of a manuscript

nyns yw yn keskerdh hy fraktura,

is not in the march of its blackletter,

mes yn bos kannas unnik an re marow hir alemma.

but in knowing itself the lone envoy of the long-dead.

An golon a arm hy vanita

The heart shouts its vanity

gans kettep pols lorek: y few

with each manic pulse: it lives

(bythkweth ny wodhya ken) hag y hwra bynitha.

(has never known anything but living) and always will.

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Poetry Resource :

Our featured resource for the day is “A Poetry Channel” on YouTube, where you’ll find an eclectic array of poems being read with accompanying images and video.

George Gordon Byron

1788 – 1824

I.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

II.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

III.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

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Prompt :

Today we’d like to challenge you to write a poem rooted in “weird wisdom,” by which we mean something objectively odd that someone told you once, and that has stuck with you ever since.

Need an example? Check out Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem “Making a Fist.”

Naomi Shihab Nye

1952 –

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,

I felt the life sliding out of me,

a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.

I was seven, I lay in the car

watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.

My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

"How do you know if you are going to die?"

I begged my mother.

We had been traveling for days.

With strange confidence she answered,

"When you can no longer make a fist."

Years later I smile to think of that journey,

the borders we must cross separately,

stamped with our unanswerable woes.

I who did not die, who am still living,

still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,

clenching and opening one small hand.

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Poem Title :

WIERD WISDOM

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Ham Bihari

Udti Chidiya ko

Haldi Lagaana jaantey hain

We, the People of Bihar,

Know how to put turmeric

On the wings of a flying sparrow

I’ve lived in Bihar now for over forty years on end

But ylike a lot of other things that drive me round the bend

I never could quite understand what sparrows here portend

Especially why Bihari friends their living skills extend

To coating with turmeric spice the innocent back end

Of a harmless little chirping bird still trying to ascend

I hesitate ( have hesitated four decades ) to mend

My ignorance by asking if the bird is to be cooked

And if so why not wait a bit the spices for to blend

Or if the bird turns flightless when by turmeric it’s hooked

And if so is the turmeric in powder form or paste

And if I ask for defamation can I not be booked ?

All that I know is this is held to be in great good taste

As final proof that the people of Bihar are most wise

And skilled and not to be dismissed in scorn or thoughtless haste

Wierd wisdom this, to me at least, a pointless exercise

But who am I to disrespect centuries of folklore

Especially when its unravelling I never could devise ?

It’s something that still puzzles me after guesses galore :

Can someone solve this so that I am wiser than before ?

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Poet : Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia

Day 6/12 th Poem

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[ccrissproductions]

We Are Our Own Muse

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three: The Giggle Monster Eats Melancholy Soup

Sunlight warmed my face as I laid on the bed. The light passed through my eyelids making my view a burnt orange instead of the pitch black it usually is when my eyes are closed.

There was a weight on my stomach. Not crushing, or even heavy, just small and... a weight. 

What could possibly be on my stomach at seven in the morning?

Sunlight stung my eyes as I opened them to look for the culprit.

Oh. There's the culprit; a two-year-old giggle monster sitting on my stomach like it's the most comfortable chair in the world.

"Hey buddy," I smiled, still groggy. I swear I only closed my eyes for a second.

Declan giggled in response. Wait, why was he up so early?

I looked past him to read the clock on the wall. It was kind of blurry without my glasses but, from what I could tell, it was past 10. 

Only a second, huh?

Little Declan was playing with his toes when I gently poked at his little sides causing a fit of giggles to come out of him.

I couldn't help laughing with him.

A child's laughter, the best music in the world.

"WWWHHAAAHHH," I made a playful sound effect while picking up Declan.

"PSSHHH," I said, playfully 'slamming' Declan down beside me. 

His giggles turned into full-blown laughter as I let go of him. I got up from the bed and finally grabbed my glasses from my dresser and put them on. 

I picked up Declan and carried him on my hip. "Alright kid, where's Mommy?"

He pointed towards the bedroom door, and I followed him like a compass.

His directions led us to the kitchen. I was confused.

"No Mommy in here, is there buddy?" I spoke in a little baby voice, and he pointed at the refrigerator.

Oh look:

A note.

We went to the fridge, and I pulled the note off its door. 

Hey honey, 

Something came up at work, so I had to head in. From what I heard I may be there all day. 

There are bottles of breastmilk in the fridge for Antero, and formula in the bottom cabinet if the bottles aren't enough.

P.S.

Sorry for what I said earlier. 

Even in her absence, she's the bigger person.

I looked to my son, "alright buddy, what should we do today?"

----

It's moments like this when I realize that this room is melancholy. A stale melancholy flavor that rubbed you weird if you stayed in here too long. Somehow, I blend perfectly with the taste. 

I laid flat on my back on my bed with my hands crossed on my stomach and legs crossed at the ankle. I stared at the dried discolored patches in the ceiling. Whenever the rain is too powerful for the roof, those patches come about; and here I am to catch the water so no one else under me gets wet. 

Everything happens for a reason. Everyone has a purpose. My purpose is to make sure no one is inconvenienced by a leaky roof. 

I stare up at the ceiling some more. My headphones are on, my music is off. My sketchbook is open, nothing is drawn. 

The day just started and I'm already stagnant--- still. A perfect flavor to drop into the soup of melancholy. 

I sigh, "alright kid, what shall we do today?"

I sighed again. I sigh a lot. 

There wasn't much I could do with this damn monitor on. The only places I can go are to school and back, and that's on weekdays--- it's Sunday... in the summer. 

I'm stuck here.

I could go downstairs and mingle--- I hate those damn kids. 

Maybe I could see what 3J is up to. Oh wait, he doesn't work on Sundays. 

Whatever it is, I surely am not going to find it in this coffin.

I swear my bones creak as I get up to go downstairs--- I'm not even that old. 

I decided to head to the living area where kids galore were wreaking havoc. 

Okay, I admit that was overdramatic, but they were just so loud.

Kids of different ages were talking in their friend groups. The tv was on, but the only thing playing right now was commercials. The old couch was taken up by a group of teenagers older than me. I stayed on the borders of the room as I made my way to the exit on the other side of the room. There was a small makeshift lounge area a couple halls down, and I was hoping to find a book or something I could read.

As I was going on my way, I stopped and looked down the hallway at the entrance of the orphanage. There was a woman standing there talking to Ms. Milleson, the secretary at the front desk. 

She looked like a businesswoman: tall and slender, long dark hair, pantsuit, pointed toe heels. 

And not to be nosy but her attire looked a little too expensive for her to be any type of social worker.

But that ain't none of my business. 

I keep going my way until I make it to the lounge. There were kids here, but it was significantly less than the amount in the living area. I headed to the bookshelf to see if there was anything I would like to read over again. 

Someone tapped my shoulder.

I swear if it's that lil' light skin bitch...

I turn around to find 3J standing there. I was confused, and my face showed it.

"I got something for you," He answered as he handed me a book. 

The Hate U Give

... Little Infants Fucks Everyone. I couldn't help myself.

This book just came out earlier this year, I didn't think he'd have a copy of it. He's more of a James Baldwin/ Howard Thurman type of guy.

"I thought you would like to read it first before I did," he said with a smug grin on his face.

I raised my eyebrow. 

So, I don't get to keep the book?

"No, you don't get to keep the book," Isn't it nice when someone answers your thoughts.

I smiled at him anyway and we fist bumped. "Now, I have to go before they decide to put me to work," He joked. 

"Give me that back when you're done," 3J said as he began walking out the door. 

I nodded and with a final goodbye, he left.

The Hate U Give.

I guess this is what I'm doing today.