#Newsons' Corners

[vidcundcuriousgoth]

SERIOUSLY?!

Why is he so many girls’ first kiss???

[benandstevesposts]

This is the story of the Negro Boys Industrial School Fire of 1959.

A Report From NewsOne a service of benandsteve.com

Deemed one of Arkansas’ greatest mysteries, the history of the 1959 fire at the Negro Boys Industrial School is still an enigma. 

Who would lock innocent Black teenage boys into a building and set it on fire? The thought seems unimaginable, but it happened. 

In the 1950s, Arkansas was ground zero for the segregation of public schools in America.

The historic Brown v. Board of Education U.S. Supreme Court case of 1954 declared that all laws establishing segregated schools were unconstitutional, calling for schools throughout the nation to be desegregated.

After the court’s decision, the NAACP began registering Black students in previously all-white schools. Little Rock in Arkansas was one of the first cities to agree to comply with the Supreme Court ruling, and by 1957, nine Black students were selected to attend previously all-white Little Rock Central High. The students would be known as the Little Rock Nine.

The Day Black Boys Burned: Uncovering The 1959 Fire At The Negro Boys Industrial School

On Sept. 4, 1957, the Little Rock Nine arrived at Little Rock Central High School, hoping to just focus on school. Instead, they were hounded by an angry, racist mob of white students trying to keep them out. The angry white mob, which consisted of students, parents, and Little Rock citizens, yelled racial slurs and physical threats at the Black students, trying their best to keep them out of their schools. Arkansas Governor Orval M. Faubus even attempted to use the Arkansas National Guard to keep the nine students out of the school.

The terror these nine Black students faced trying to go to a new school was horrific, but the violence and hatred wouldn’t end with the Little Rock Nine. A few years later, the Negro Boys Industrial School, an alternative school for Black boys in Wrightsville, would suffer an even worse fate.

On March 5, 1959, at 4 a.m., when the school was asleep, 69 Black students, ages 13 to 17, were padlocked inside the dormitories of the Negro Boys Industrial School, and the dorms mysteriously set ablaze. The boys fought and struggled to survive the burning building, clawing their way to safety by prying off mesh metal screens from two windows. 

The following day, the bodies of 21 Black boys were found piled on top of each other in the corner of the burned dormitory. 

There Is More To The Story!

This report is available in its entirety by visiting NEWSONE by clicking here. You can also see through the window below a service of benandsteve.com

[cinnabargirl]

I remember how this time last year i was despairing sighing losing all hope cradling my heavy head in my hands trying not to cry because kelela björk and joanna newson hadnt released music in a long long time and well look now the first two have released two full length albums and it looks like the latter is going to drop something anytime soon so what im saying guys is never ever lose hope cause good things are just around the corner ready to bump into you and baby theyre not even going to say whoops sorry my bad :)

[penig]

Newson Prime/Hawkins/LeStrange Gracie is in charge of Merlin's lab while he and Georgia are swamped with offspring, so Ginger often finds herself sole baby caretaker during the day. Which is not a problem for an old hand like her. Gracie knows Mom is on top of things here, so she doesn't hesitate to put in some extra time studying so as to be more effective at the lab. She doesn't want Uncle Merlin to come back from his spell of full-time fatherhood to regret leaving her in charge.

[simstationdance]

more ‘AU strangetown’ stuff, because while i may be putting my current playthru on hold, i love one (1) town and can’t help myself

anyway, i gave ginger and gavin newson some new faces. i tried to keep them at least somewhat close to their original looks, but gavin’s original face is an atrocity against god.

i should probably make a tag for this

[asimplevampire]

Gavin. 

Gavin, I know you’re abandoned teens.

But there’s perfectly good pancakes right there. You don’t need to eat the Death Cereal. 

[unvanquishedsims]

Aberforth making some sales. 

[90363462]

NEWS

Home › Race Matters

D.C. Becoming ‘Chocolate City’ Again After Pandemic ‘White Flight’ Reverses Gentrification Trend

The Census Bureau released new data this week.

Written By Bruce C.T. Wright

Posted July 1, 2022

@bctw

Loaded: 0%

0:10

Progress: 0%PauseUnmuteSTART CASTINGFullscreen

NewsOne Featured Video

Double dutch jump roping is shown during D.C.’s Chocolate City Experience around Black Lives Matter Plaza on June 27, 2020. | Source: The Washington Post / Getty

There are now fewer white people who call the nation’s capital home than there were before the pandemic in a demographic shift that is helping to restore the “Chocolate City” nickname that had increasingly become a misnomer in recent years.

During 12 months in the middle of the COVID-19pandemic, more than 10,000 non-Hispanic white people fled Washington, D.C., according to the Washington Post, which cited newly released Census data. Those findings show a serious reversal of white people moving to the city that is part of a larger heated debate about the effects that gentrificationhas had on the District of Columbia’s Black population.

MORE: The Fight For D.C. Statehood Is A 21st Century Civil Rights Issue

Related Stories

Charlottesville City Council Vote To Melt Down Robert E. Lee Statue And Hire Black Artists To Rebuild New Monument

“In the four years preceding the pandemic, the city had been adding non-Hispanic White residents at a rate of around 4,000 to 5,000 each year,” the Post reported. “But between July 2020 and July 2021, it lost 10,285 people from that group, according to the bureau’s annual population estimates for the nation, states and counties by age, sex, race and Hispanic origin.”

The apparent so-called “white flight” — the phenomenon of white people fleeing urban areas in droves — was consistent with trends in other major cities ravaged by the coronavirus.

Those numbers may not be reflected on the official Census Bureau page for Washington, D.C., which shows the city has a Black population of 45.8% compared to a white population of 45.9%.

While that margin is as slim as can be, the number of white people eclipsing Black people in a city renowned for its Black population has prompted a number of questions.

Back in the 1980s, as much as 70% of the city’s population was estimated to be Black people. Decades later, that majority was threatened before finally being eclipsed by white residents in 2015.

The number of white people living in D.C. had been steadily increasing until the Census Bureau released its new findings Thursday.

A glaring example of the surge of white people living in Black D.C. neighborhoods came in 2019 when Howard University students and community residents attended an Advisory Neighborhood Commission meeting to voice concerns with white, local residents using the historically Black college campus to walk their dogs.

And separately nearby, new residents living in a luxury apartment building complained about a decades-long tradition of a store on the corner of Florida Avenue and 7th Street in the Shaw neighborhood playing go-go music from speakers outside the business.

A 2017 study published by Georgetown University analyzing the impact of the district’s booming economy on Black residents painted a picture of profound economic disparities between the city’s Black and white residents. The average net worth of a white household was $284,000 compared to just $3,500 for Black households.

There was also a huge gap in median annual incomes: Whites with $120,000 and Blacks with $41,000.

The disproportionate number of new jobs in D.C. requiring at least a bachelor’s degree stood in stark contrast with the 12% of Black D.C. residents being college graduates as of 2014, the study noted.

Consequently, White residents were able to pay more for housing, which has driven up costs and reduced available affordable housing.

Those types of inequalities stem from a history of discrimination that pushed the District’s Black residents to the fringes of the economy, the study said. Historic discriminatory practices have ranged from segregated schools to redlining, a racist practice in which banks refused to lend money to Black entrepreneurs and home buyers.

SEE ALSO:

‘New Soul Of Harlem’: Restaurant Ad Showing Only White Patrons Sparks Outrage, Briefly

Gentrification In Detroit: Non-Black Residents Sue For Housing Discrimination

Watch Gentrifier Whitesplain Why He Wants D.C. To Lose Some Of Its Black Culture

15 PHOTOS

BLACK PEOPLE , CENSUS , DC GENTRIFICATION , GENTRIFICATION , NEWSLETTER , WASHINGTON D.C. , WHITE PEOPLE

MORE

Sent from my iPhone

[natteryaktoad]

Newson Bellum, Day 81, Part 8

So they headed round the corner to the bowling alley, but they weren’t at all interested in bowling!

[widespot]

Hey, there, Widespot! It’s been awhile, yet everything’s right where I left it. Cool.

Quick refresher, Left to Right along Highway 13.5:

The Manufactured Homes, housing David Ottomas, the Ottomas Family (who moved in temporarily after their lot glitched out house burned down), and the Knowe Family. Pepe’s Pets. Nathan’s Fun Bowl (Nathan Gavigan, Prop.), Booktique (Trisha Traveller, Prop.) the Corner Apartments (under renovation), Widespot Public Library, Widespot Park, The Dining Dash, General Store and Beech Appliances (Sandy Beech, Prop.), Beech Residence and Rest Area.

Behind the Beeches, left to right, Travellers, roommates Cyd Roseland and Julien Cooke (and dogs. Lots of dogs.), Picasso Family; then right to left The Old Treehouse, the Swimming Hole, Gavigan Family, Goodies (and their adopted Newsons). On Land Road, the Wheels family has moved here from Bigg City and built a retirement home down the street from the Hart Family. The Mann, Land, and Weiss families are all in their accustomed places off the map, and the Indies - Mitch and Dixie - have moved in across from the Lands.

We will start in the Manufactured Homes.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Triumphs & Tribulations

A JSE Fanfic

This turned out surprisingly long for being written in the middle of my midterms. Probably goes to show where my priorities are when I’m writing during downtimes in class. But hey, it’s here, and at no expense to my grades! This is a big one, as Marvin’s hearing finally wraps up, Chase goes to visit someone and finds things have changed, and JJ? Well, it’s Halloween and his birthday, something’s bound to happen. Hope you enjoy it!

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

The entryway of the courthouse was busy, many people milling about. Marvin wasn’t actually surprised, after all, this was a big case for the city. But that didn’t mean he liked it. He sat on one of the benches, playing anxiously with a Rubik’s cube in his lap. Not to solve it, just to do something. His lawyer, Aja, sat next to him, looking through her files.

Someone pushed through the crowd, coming to a stop nearby. “Marvin!” she called. “Am I late?”

“Huh? Oh!” It took Marvin a moment to recognize Dr. Laurens. “No, uh, you’re fine. We’re on recess, you don’t actually go on until later.”

Laurens sighed, relieved. “Sorry, traffic. I-I went slow, too, because. Well.” She gestured to her arm, no longer in a sling but still in a cast. “Much more mobility, and my wrist is better, but I’m still supposed to be careful. When does the recess end?”

“Uhh...” Marvin checked his phone for the time. “Just a few minutes. But it’ll still be a few minutes after that before you need to testify. Right, Ms. Bakshi?”

“Right.” Aja nodded. “Don’t worry, just head into that side room. All the people called to testify are waiting in there.”

“Oh.” Laurens followed Aja’s point towards the door. “So, this is a proper trial now and everything? I was told this was just a hearing.”

“Yes, but due to the sensationalism of the case, the hearing is being treated as a trial,” Aja explained. 

“It’s stupid,” Marvin muttered. “I mean, I guess I’m glad that it’s getting attention, but I think maybe it’s a bit too much.”

“Look at it this way, now that it’s televised, public pressure will be up, and on our side,” Aja said.

“Well...good luck,” Laurens said. “I guess I’ll see you after this trial?”

“Yeah, sure,” Marvin shrugged. 

That wasn’t very encouraging. “Uh...yeah. See you then.” Laurens awkwardly backed up, then turned and hurried towards the side room door.

The small side room looked a bit like a combination parlor and waiting room, so of course Laurens was right at home. The furniture was in shades of red and brown, contrasting with the green potted plants in the corner. One of the tables against the wall had a TV on it, showing a view of the courtroom. There was another door on the opposite wall that led to said courtroom. And surprisingly, there were already two people in there.

“Oh, Dr. Laurens, I see they’ve called you to testify.”

“Ah, hello. You’re those...detectives,” Laurens recalled. “Nix, and...I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

The other detective bristled, but before he could say something snappy, Nix raised a hand and quieted him down with a gesture. “This is Hooper, don’t mind him,” he said. “How have you been? I see your arm has been healing well.”

“Yeah.” Laurens rolled up her sleeve to reveal the cast on her arm. “No sling anymore, and the doctor says I might be able to lose it entirely in another week or two, though I might still need a wrist brace.” She sighed, and rolled it back down. “A-anyway, why are you two here? Are you testifying, too?”

Nix nodded. “Yes. They wanted a statement from us reassuring the court that Henrik von Schneeplestein is not dangerous.”

“He’s not.”

“Well, we know that, but the public doesn’t,” Nix explained. “For a long time, he was our only suspect in these killings.”

“Nix, he still helped,” Hooper protested.

“Under threat, while he wasn’t in his right mind,” Nix said sternly. “Is that correct, Dr. Laurens?”

“Right.” Laurens nodded faintly. She could still remember her short time with Anti and Jackie as if it was just recently. And she didn’t think anyone could last long in those conditions.

“Not to mention his original disappearance turned out to be a kidnapping,” Nix muttered, side-eyeing Hooper before turning back to Laurens. “You know, I thought it was...strange, when we finally found him. You received the report on the arrest, right?” He waited for Laurens to nod again before continuing. “Yes, the house’s doors were all locked, and they all required the use of a key on both sides in order to unlock. Yet Henrik didn’t have a key. The real killer, this Anti, must have left him behind to take the fall, possibly fleeing the scene seconds before we arrived. Henrik got convicted anyway due to all the security footage and his fingerprints being at every crime scene, but personally, I think those would be easy to manipulate.”

Before Laurens could reply—though she didn’t know what she would have said anyway—there was movement on the TV, the one showing the courtroom. It appeared as though people were entering the area, settling down in their seats. Curious, she walked over, noticing a pair of volume buttons. Turning the sound on led to a bunch of chatter.

“Looks like they’re getting ready to start again,” Hooper commented.

“Yes, it seems so,” Nix agreed. “This must be to let us know when we’re being called to testify.”

Hooper shook his head. “We could’ve refused to come in,” he muttered unhappily. “We already gave them all the relevant case files.”

“Oh come now, this would be stronger for the prosecution,” Nix said. “We just have to confirm what’s in the files and clarify any questions.”

Feeling nerves start to crawl up her stomach, Laurens took a seat in the chair closest to the TV, anxiously waiting for her cue.

It wasn’t long before the time. The hearing proceeded with statements of the charges against Newson, and her lawyer attempted to counter said charges. Marvin’s lawyer responded, and announced they had someone to testify about Newson’s malpractice. The judge called for this testimony, and Laurens stood up, just in time for one of the courtroom’s employees (she wasn’t sure what his actual job was) opened the door. She nodded at him, and hurried out.

Laurens had never been in a courtroom before, and she was surprised that it was exactly how she pictured it to be. A grand room, some tall windows, a spot for the judge and the two parties. The only difference was the camera crew set up in the aisle: about four people dressed in dark professional attire, a table with a computer and some equipment, and a large camera. There was even a boom mic, being held by one of the people. Laurens tried not to look directly into the camera as she walked across the courtroom floor and took a seat at the table the judge was pointing her to.

“Dr. Laurens.” The lawyer sitting at Marvin’s table stood up, walking around to stand close to Laurens’ table. What was her name? Bakshi? “Please state your name and occupation.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I’m Dr. Rya Laurens, I’m a psychiatrist at Silver Hills Mental Hospital,” Laurens said.

“And what exactly do you do at Silver Hills?”

“Well, uh...I-I help people, um...who have checked in. My specialty is forms of psychosis and dissociative disorders. Currently my only patient is...um, the one in question. Henrik von Schneeplestein.” Her eyes couldn’t help but drift over to look at Newson as she talked. But Newson was very deliberately not looking at her.

“I see. And your relationship with the defendant?” Bakshi waved her hand in Newson’s direction.

“She’s—she was my boss, head of the hospital,” Laurens explained.

“And how involved was she, as your boss, in your patient cases?”

“Oh, uh...normally not very. But this one was different, she got...pretty involved,” Laurens admitted.

“Can you give an example?”

“W-well, uh...” Laurens swallowed nervously. “At first she offered to take the case from me, and one time when I was sick, she took over that day’s session with Schn—the, uh, the patient. Which resulted in one of the orderlies being injured.”

“I understand that was not the only time she did this, correct?” Bakshi prompted.

“No. When I was, uh...” Laurens paused. “...unavailable for a few months, she took over the case entirely.”

Bakshi nodded. “Tell us about what happened during this period.”

Laurens took a deep breath. This was easy. She just had to...just had to do it. “Well, obviously I wasn’t there, so I don’t know the specifics of what happened in the sessions and such. I guess, uh, you could ask the orderly on duty for that. But I do know that when I returned, Schn—Henrik, the patient, had his mental health severely degraded, and had lost all progress we’d made before. He was...very upset, and his hallucinations had gotten worse. A-and also, I checked the medication records, and Newson had prescribed large doses and—and unnecessary sedatives, both of which would have an—an effect on Henrik’s physical and mental well-being.”

“And would you say she did so deliberately?” Bakshi asked.

Laurens hesitated for just a moment. “Yes, I would say so. Definitely. It was clear that Dr. Newson harbored...um, ill feelings for Henrik.”

“Thank you very much, Dr. Laurens.” Bakshi looked at the judge. “The prosecution rests our case.”

“Very well,” the judge said in a deep voice. “The defense may proceed.”

Newson’s lawyer looked uncertain, but stood up, and cleared his throat. “Dr. Laurens, would you say that...that at any point, Dr. Newson broke the regulations of Silver Hills?”

“I, uh...don’t understand the question,” Laurens said quietly.

“I mean, is it against the regulations for Dr. Newson, in her position as head of the hospital, to be involved in other cases, prescribe medicine, or take over a doctor’s case when unavailable?”

“Well, no, not technically,” Laurens said slowly. “The head doctor may do all that, though it’s not very common, as she has her own patients.”

“So at no point did Dr. Newson do anything against the rules?” The lawyer stressed.

“Wha—no, I didn’t say that,” Laurens denied. “I mean, we have a policy against taking patients you are personally involved with, and I...I understand that Dr. Newson was personally involved.” Laurens said this last part quietly. “And she didn’t tell anyone.” Then she cleared her throat. “Furthermore, the medication prescribed was dangerous and unnecessary, and qualifies as misuse. The ethics committee has a strict restriction against misuse or abuse of any kind.” Her voice became stronger. “And even furthermore, I can confirm that the sessions she had with Henrik worsened his issues. And I didn’t know it at the time, but the hospital requires all patients to be let out of their rooms at least once per day for one hour, which Henrik was denied on Newson’s orders.”

The lawyer appeared to be at a loss for words. Laurens let out a long, long breath, and ended up glancing towards Newson. She still wasn’t looking at her, and Laurens wasn’t sure if she was relieved or hurt. “Well, ah.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Laurens. The defense rests, Your Honour.”

“Yes, I see.” The judge nodded. “The witness may leave. Though I advise you to stay near court, in case we need to hear your testimony again.”

“Ah, thank you, Your Honour.” Laurens stood up again and hurried back into the side room. That didn’t take long at all. Hopefully, this will be over sooner than she thought.

——————

Unfortunately, the hearing would drag on for some time. Marvin zoned out halfway through, playing games on his phone, while Aja did most of the talking and legal details. At one point, the judge asked him about his relation to his case, and so he put away the phone and quickly explained how he was friends with Schneep. But then he went immediately back to his phone. He knew he should probably be more engaged, as the one who started all this, but he just couldn’t help it.

Eventually the court called for a recess while the final decision was debated. “It’s looking up for us, Marvin,” Aja said with a small smile. “Though be prepared, just in case.”

“Yep, mentally ready for anything,” Marvin said absentmindedly.

Aja’s smile faded. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me. I mean, I know I don’t look it, but I’m ready.”

“Hmm, alright. Just be sure.” Aja straightened her papers into a single stack.

A few minutes passed. And suddenly, Marvin got a text from Chase, letting off a loud ding! sound in the middle of the mostly-quiet room. Marv i have some big news! Im on my way to meet the kids rn but im gonna call you after to tell you.

“Huh?” Marvin said out loud, blinking in confusion. He sent a message in reply: What do you mean? Is it good or bad?

Before Chase could reply, the hearing quickly reconvened, everyone returning to their spots. Marvin put his phone down, watching the judge stand up to deliver the court’s decision. “After much deliberation, we find Dr. Jennifer Newson guilty of malpractice. As of right now, her license to practice is to be revoked, and a fine of £70,000 is to be paid to Silver Hills Mental Hospital. However, the prosecuting party Marvin Maher was in the wrong to trespass and take information from Silver Hills, and thus must pay a fine of £25,000 to that establishment.”

Marvin raised his eyebrows, visibly surprised. That was...a lot. But he could probably scrape it up. While the judge continued with the particulars, he leaned over to look at Dr. Newson. Her expression...was utterly devastated, but resigned. She knew something like this was coming. Marvin stifled his urge to give her a smug grin; no need to add insult to injury.

The hearing adjourned immediately after. Marvin and Aja headed outside quickly, so as to avoid the television crew that was now anxiously looking for people to interview. “Whoa, it’s like evening,”  Marvin gasped, looking up at the twilight sky.

“It was, uh, certainly pretty long.” Laurens appeared nearby.

“Aah! Oh, it’s just you.” Marvin relaxed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Laurens mumbled. “But, um. Congratulations!”

“Ah, yes, thank you for your congratulations. It means a lot, considering I just got your boss permanently fired,” Marvin said, unable to keep a hint of a smile off his face.

“Well, um...I guess it was really her own fault,” Laurens said. “I mean, it’s...bad for her, but I think it was the right thing to do. If this was how she reacted with one patient, she could’ve been doing this for others, too. A-and I don’t think they would’ve revoked her license on just the first incident.”

“Well, this was a very well-known case,” Aja pointed out.

“Oh yeah, by the way, thanks for your help,” Marvin said to her. “I’ll send you the check.”

“No problem. If you’re ever in any similar trouble, let me know. You still have my card.” Aja nodded, then turned away. “I’ll be heading off now.”

“Yeah, see you. Again, thanks!” Marvin waved as Aja slowly headed off. Then he looked at Laurens. “Uh...need a ride or anything?”

“No, I drove here, but thanks,” Laurens said.

“Oh good.” Marvin paused awkwardly. “Because, uh. I didn’t. Could you, uh, drive me over to my house please?”

Laurens thought about it, then shrugged. “Sure. I don’t think it’s too far away. My car is this way.”

“Thanks so much.” Marvin hurried after her as he headed to a parking lot.

“No problem!”

And so they headed off. Marvin breathed a sigh of relief. This whole ordeal had been on his mind for so long, he was glad it was all over with. Maybe things could slowly start to return to normal soon. Or at least some semblance thereof.

——————

“So, Happy Halloween. It’s that time of year again. Pretty nice outside, too, like that sort of fall day where everything is just like, crisp and cool, y’know? Usually it’s just all foggy and cloudy and cold here. Honestly that’s one of the downsides of this part of the world, there were a lot of fall days like that when I was a kid. Or maybe that’s climate change, ha ha.”

Chase smiled a bit, leaning back in the hospital chair as he looked over at Jack. Of course, there wasn’t much of a response. But he talked anyway, as always.

“Anyway, I’m taking the kids trick-or-treating this year. That’s gonna be later, thought I’d stop by first. Stacy sent me pictures of their costumes. Nick’s a bat, and Sophie’s a cowgirl. She really likes horses lately, we were talking about having a horse-themed party for their birthday, but Stacy said that wouldn’t be fair to Nick. I dunno, he likes cowboy stuff well enough, and I think when you’re four-turning-five you don’t really have strong opinions except for a few things. Or maybe that was just me.”

Jack’s hand moved a bit, inching closer to the edge of the bed. That was happening more and more recently, which was apparently a good sign, according to Dr. Emerson. But Chase still jumped a bit as his arm and shoulder shifted position.

“Oh hey, do you remember like, two years ago when you did that, like, game thing with the videos on your channel? With all the glitchy stuff that Jackie edited? That was fun.” Chase chuckled. “Man, the community really liked that, huh? I-I tried to do a couple game things similar to that, but I’ve left all the glitchy stuff for you, don’t want to steal your thing. Nothing for Halloween, though. But I did record another pumpkin video, that’ll be going up later. If you don’t keep doing this every year once you’re better then I’ll just move it to my channel, it’s pretty fun.”

There was another twitch. Chase stopped talking for a moment as Jack’s head slowly lulled to the side, so that his face was now partially facing him. That one was new. Should he tell someone? Maybe move his head back? After a moment, Chase stood up and looked over the oxygen supply and cannula system, and concluding the movement hadn’t upset or anything, he figured it was probably fine. “Be careful, bro, don’t want to unplug shit, you need that.” No answer, but it felt a lot more personal when Jack was actually looking towards him.

Slowly sitting back down, Chase continued talking. “Oh yeah, a couple more things happening today. JJ’s birthday. I want to go visit him, but y’know. Kids. I didn’t see them last year, so.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Also about a year since we met him, so it’s kinda special. I dunno, maybe I’ll drop by real quick on the way back home. But Marvin won’t be able to visit until later, either, maybe I’ll wait. That’s the other thing, he’s in, uhhh, court, y’know? That thing about suing Schneep’s old doctor, the one who was a dick. He’s pretty confident, so I hope it’s going well right now.” He paused. “Maybe I should go see Schneep later. I mean, I can’t, visiting hours and all that, but Laurens, the good doctor, told me last week that’ll be changing soon, maybe I should stop by anyway to check, later tonight before going to see JJ.”

“Mmmmhnn.”

“But I don’t know, would that be too annoying? I don’t want to be one of those people, the ones who...wait.” Chase had been staring blankly at the opposite wall, but now he looked back over at Jack. “Did...was that...did I hear...?”

Jack’s other hand raised up briefly into the air before flopping back down. “Mmnnh. Nnnnhh.” Then his mouth opened. Just a little bit. “Uuuhhhn. Aauhh.”

“Holy shit.” For a moment, Chase just stared, in total disbelief. Then, he kept staring, unsure what to do. “Can you...do that again?”

A pause. And then some more mumbled, incoherent sounds. It might have been a coincidence that it happened after Chase asked him to do it again, but the fact remained that those were sounds. That was Jack’s voice.

“Holy shit!” Chase shot to his feet. “Hang on, I—shit—I have to get somebody!” He rushed over to the room’s closed door, throwing it open and leaning out into the hallway. “Hello?! Anyone?! There’s something—th-there’s a—he’s—!”

“Hhaaaay.” Chase whirled around as Jack made another sound. “Eeeee...?” His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if he couldn’t get it to form the right letters. “Ssssaaay?”

“Say? Say what?” Chase gave up on the door and hurried back over. “Are you actually trying to say something, or is this just—I-I don’t know, just—god, I don-don’t know.”

“Saayys...eeeelluh?” It sounded like a question, the way Jack’s voice was rising at the end. His hand raised and fell again, and his body turned a bit more in Chase’s direction. Wait...was doing this on purpose? Like, these movements weren’t just random muscle spasms? “Saayss...weeeluh?”

“I-I can’t understand you, bro,” Chase whispered urgently. “What’s ‘saays’?” It was only after saying it out loud that he realized. The sound Jack was making...it was almost like his name. “Are you trying to say ‘Chase’? Is that it?”

“Sss...Ssshhhaays,” Jack mumbled. “Weel? Ww...w...weellyy hhhewh?”

“Wheel? No, that can’t be it, can it? Wheely? Hewuh?” Chase shook his head. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get it.”

“Is everything alright in here?” A nurse poked her head into the room, looking worried.

Chase glanced back over towards her. “He’s speaking, h-he’s trying to say something! I—this is—he hasn’t—”

The nurse nodded, immediately grasping the situation. “Wait right here, sir, I’ll go get a doctor.”

“Dr. Emerson is in charge, if you can,” Chase called after her as she left. Then he immediately turned back to Jack. “Can you say that again?”

“Weeel...ehssss...weeeel?” The corner of Jack’s eye twitched, then he blinked. “Shhhaays?”

“Ehs wheel,” Chase repeated. “Ehs...Ihs...is? Is wheel? Is...real?” That sounded right. “Of course I’m real, Jack. You’re awake now, right?”

“Nnn...nahhh...” Another blink. “Naahh...ffff...ffffff...fffffayy?”

“Nah fay? No fey? Like fairies?”

“Nnnah. Nnauuhh...fffffaay...ffffay...ffffay—” Jack made a strange harsh breathing sound. He seemed to be having trouble with that word, but Chase was pretty sure the repetition meant he was really trying to communicate.

“Take it easy, bro.” Chase reached up and took hold of Jack’s arms on either side, gently. He glanced over towards the vitals monitors. They seemed increased in activity, but not to dangerous levels. “Okay, that’s nauh...maybe it’s not ‘no’, it’s ‘not’? Not fay? Fay fay fay...fffate. Faith. Fail. Fade. Fake. Not fake?” Chase smiled a bit. “What, is there a fake Chase running around?”

Jack groaned quietly. “Ffff...ffayy Shh...Shhaaaysss. Ffayy Shhayss. Ffayy mmm...mmmahhffnn.”

“Muffin? No, that makes no sense,” Chase muttered. Maybe it was another name? After all, it would make sense in the context of Jack saying Chase’s own name.

“Ffaay Shaayys. Fffay mmm...Mmahfffvfnn.”

Chase’s expression fell, cold dread filling his heart. “Fake Marvin,” he realized. “That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? Fake Chase, Fake Marvin. Jack, was...was there someone here pretending to be us? Do you...remember that?”

“Fffayy Shaaayss. Ffaaay Mmahffn.” Jack’s head listed slowly to the side. His eyes remained staring straight, causing his gaze to shift. “Ffaay Shayyss. Fffayy Mmahffnnn. Ffayy ahhhshee? Ffaaay shnnneee?”

Footsteps pounded against the floor, and Chase looked back to see the nurse returned, Dr. Emerson in tow. “Mr. Brody!” Emerson looked flushed, as if he’d run all the way here. “Is it true?”

“Y-yeah.” Chase nodded. “Yeah, it’s—”

“Mmmmn.” Jack’s head rolled back around, falling forward. The force of the motion caused the rest of his body to lean forward, too, until his head hit Chase’s chest. “Sshhaays. Fffff...ffffffeh...”

“My god,” Emerson said, stunned. He gestured to the nurse, who hurried around the side of the bed to look at the readings from the equipment. “When did this start? Has he said anything clearly?”

“Uh, about a minute ago.” Chase lifted Jack’s head up and gently pushed him back into place. Jack groaned, and his hand shook irregularly. “I-I don’t know what you mean by ‘clear,’ I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s trying to say something, but there are, uh...n-no words that you can just hear. It’s all mumbled and slurry.”

“I see, I see.” Emerson hurried over, quickly looking over the equipment as well before leaving that to the nurse. “What about movements? Gaze?”

“He’s just looking straight ahead, but his eyes are staying open. Moving is, uh, random, but I think it’s deliberate? He just can’t make it happen.”

“Alright, I understand.” Emerson leaned over Chase’s shoulder. “Jack, this is very important. If you can hear me, try to say something. Try to say your name.”

Jack blinked slowly. “Eeuhh...aaaah...aaa���aaa—” Another harsh exhale. His mouth moved silently for a few seconds. “Zzzhh...zzhaah—aa—” And yet another harsh breath.

“That certainly sounded like an attempt, it had the ‘aah’ sound in the middle.” Emerson nodded. “Alright, then. Can you raise your hand, Jack? Either one of them.”

“Hhhh...” Jack’s right hand trembled for a bit, then slowly lifted up a few inches before falling back down.

“This is good, this is very very good.” Emerson backed up. “Nurse, has there been any change?”

“No sir, everything’s stable.”

“Hey, uh, Dr. Emerson?” Chase looked up. “I—I might have to go now.” He wanted to stay, he really did, but he couldn’t just abandon Stacy and the kids.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Brody,” Emerson said reassuringly. “We have everything under control.”

“Nnnnih—!” Jack’s head turned. “Sshhaays. Shaaayyss.”

“I know, Jack, but it’s okay.” Chase reached over and squeezed Jack’s hand. “These guys know what they’re doing. And I’ll be back tomorrow. Do you understand?”

“Nnnnmm.” Jack blinked, and squeezed back.

“Okay.” Chase reluctantly let go, and stood up. “Take care of him, doc.”

“We will, Mr. Brody,” Emerson said. “Count on it. You go have fun on this holiday.”

“Yeah. Well, bye.” Slowly, Chase turned around and left the hospital room, leaving the business behind. His head felt a bit full with everything that happened, and as he walked to the elevator he tried to process it all.

Good news, Jack was definitely awake again, and somewhat coherent. What would happen next was unsure, but even getting to this point after over a year was a weight off everyone’s shoulders. But those comments he made still lingered in Chase’s mind. Was he really interpreting them correctly? Did Jack really have some memory of...fakes?

Maybe he shouldn’t really take any of that at face value. He’d read somewhere that people in comas often took nearby stimuli, like sound and voices, and turned that into dreams. Well, he’d also read that some remembered nothing and others remembered everything. It must depend on the specifics of what happened to them. But, on the off chance that Jack had been in that last kind of coma, and he remembered everything that happened...if that was the case, then Chase knew one person who might be able to explain the “fakes.” After all, he knew that Anti has visited the hospital at least once, pretending to be Chase himself.

He pressed the button to call the elevator, and the doors opened almost immediately. Stepping inside, he took out his phone and unlocked the screen, staring at his messages. Should he tell the others about that? Well, of course, but should he tell them now? After all, Marvin was probably still in court, and JJ didn’t even know Jack. After a moment, he decided to send a quick text to Marvin, telling him that he had big news and that he’ll call him later. And so, typing out the message and then putting his phone back into his pocket, he pressed the down button, and the elevator started to descend.

——————

The sky was twilight through the window. JJ stared out at the street below, then closed the curtains and sat down on the sofa, letting out a long sigh. Evening on his twenty-seventh birthday. It hadn’t been a very eventful day, if he was being honest, but he actually quite liked that. Some peace and quiet after things being rather stressful lately. The celebration could come later. Though, if he remembered correctly, ‘later’ might actually be quickly approaching. After all, if the televised hearing was any indication, his friends’ all-day business would probably be wrapping up soon.

As if on cue, the intercom system let out the ding! sound that meant someone was in the lobby, asking to be buzzed into the apartment building.  Standing up, he walked over and pressed the button, making a whistling sound.

“JJ? It’s me! Buzz me in.” Only Marvin could say ‘it’s me’ and immediately expect everyone else to be on the same page. JJ pressed the button to let him into the apartments.

The knocking on the door came a few moments later. JJ hurried over to open it, revealing Marvin standing on the threshold and bouncing anxiously. “Hey!” Marvin smiled. “I brought cupcakes. Just store-bought, but you know.” He held up a plastic container of six cupcakes, chocolate with blue frosting. In addition to those, he also had a bag slung over his shoulder.

JJ smiled. Hey, anything is good, especially when it’s chocolate. He stood aside, letting Marvin walk into the apartment. I was watching the hearing on TV. Congratulations.

“Still can’t believe they filmed it,” Marvin said, setting the cupcakes down on the counter. “But yeah, right? I mean, finally. They just dragged this whole thing on and on, and it’s like ‘was my evidence not enough for you’?”

Well, you did sneak into the building and steal some of it, JJ pointed out.

“And?” Marvin chuckled. “Anyway, more important things to talk about. Happy birthday, JJ! You’re finally catching up to the rest of us! How’s it feel to finally be 27?”

Exactly the same, in all honesty. JJ opened the cupcake container and pulled one out. He paused, then set it down on the counter so he could sign. Though twenty-six was a good year in my life, if I must say. After all, it’s when I meant you.

“I—” Marvin stammered. “Well—that’s just—”

JJ smiled. I see I’ve flustered you.

Well you can’t just say something like that without warning, Marvin signed. That’s too sweet, I wasn’t prepared.

It’s fine, take a moment. JJ picked up the cupcake again, carefully peeling away the paper. He ate slowly, careful to not get any frosting on his mustache.

“So, uh...what were you thinking for tonight?” Marvin looked around the apartment. “You didn’t really have any decorations, I see. Not even any balloons?”

Oh, I’m not a balloon person, I don’t like it when they pop. JJ walked over to the trash can and dropped the paper inside.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. “You ate that fast.”

Shush, it was a really good cupcake. JJ shrugged. Anyway, as for what I had planned...not much. I just wanted to hang out. I was thinking we could play Minecraft or something, I’ve been doing a lot of that recently. Did you bring your laptop?

“Oh. No, I didn’t. Should I have?” As if to double-check, Marvin looked inside his back. “Shit, I forgot to stop by my house and pick up your present, I just rushed straight over here.”

It’s fine, it was just an idea. And you didn’t need to bring a present today, either, JJ assured him. Then he paused. Is that a new bag?

“No, it’s an old one, I couldn’t find my normal one this morning,” Marvin explained. “Uh...yeah I got nothing in here. Sorry.”

Well, at least you brought cupcakes. JJ tapped the plastic container. Did you want one, too?

Marvin hesitated. “No, it’s fine. I mean, not right now. Later. We have all night, right?”

That’s true. But are you sure? You must be hungry, after being at that trial all day.

“I had snacks, it’s fine.” Marvin shrugged it off. “Well, anyway, back to the topic at hand, is there anything you really want to do? You’re the birthday boy.”

JJ pursed his lips, thinking. Well, I think I have some multiplayer games kicking around somewhere. Let me check.

It took them a while to find something. Marvin didn’t give that many suggestions, insisting that JJ choose since it was his birthday. Which, while Jameson really appreciated the gesture, seemed a bit...odd. Marvin always had something to say about group activities. But maybe after such a long day, he didn’t really have the energy to think much about it.

Eventually, JJ settled on rigging his computer up to a pair of controllers, and projecting the image on screen to the television. That took about fifteen minutes to do alone, but from there, he just had to select Stick Fight from Steam and it was ready to go.

“Hmm, is it really fair to play a fighting game against someone who can’t return any trash-talking comments?” Marvin wondered.

Well, that’s never stopped you or Chase before, JJ joked. Though do you think we should wait for him? I know he likes this game, and I’m sure he’ll be done with his kids soon. How long does trick-or-treating take?

“I don’t know. A couple hours?” Marvin bit his lip, considering. “Why are you asking me? You’ve been trick-or-treating, right?”

I think I went once as a kid, JJ recalled. And...once later, but it doesn’t really count when you’re a teenager, does it?

“Well, I think it counts,” Marvin said softly.

JJ shrugged, and looked away. One year, he went out on Halloween with Anti; the year he was sixteen. That first year was pretty fun at the time, but it was different looking back on it. Thinking about it just made him feel...well, it was a big mix of emotions in there, positive and negative. As were a lot of emotions attached to doing fun things with Anti. He’d been working on figuring them out and accepting him in his therapy sessions, but this wasn’t the time to get into thinking about that. It was his birthday. He was going to have fun. Didn’t you go trick-or-treating? Why don’t you know how long it takes?

“Well, uh...no,” Marvin admitted. “Once. But like you, I was already pretty old. Eighteen, that’s even an adult. I guess the time you’re allowed to stay out late will vary between kids and teenagers, so we’re not really good judges for when Chase will be done.”

It can’t be that long. The kids are only four, after all, no matter how energetic they are.

“Well, in that case, I think Chase will forgive us for starting a little early.” Marvin smiled. “C’mon, I’m excited.”

They played a few rounds—which went really fast in this particular game, so honestly, they played through practically all the levels—but as time went on, Jameson found it difficult to concentrate. His thoughts started to drift...and become a little foggy. He blinked slowly, and yawned. Why was he so sleepy all of a sudden?

“That’s the tenth time you’ve lost in a row,” Marvin pointed out, as his yellow stick figure destroyed Jameson’s blue one. “Are you feeling okay?”

JJ put down the controller and signed, I’m just a little tired, it’s okay.

“Ah. Did you have a long day?”

No, not really. I didn’t have work, so I just stayed in all day. I suppose I could’ve gone out for lunch or something, but...he hesitated.

“But?” Marvin prompted.

Well, there was something that happened last week, Jameson signed slowly. Someone followed me home.

“Really? Are you sure?”

JJ nodded slowly, stifling another yawn. Positive. I didn’t recognize him, but it scared me, so I’ve been inside since then.

“That’s probably not a good thing,” Marvin muttered. “Do you want to go out tonight for dinner or something? If there’s two of us, then nothing will happen.”

Jameson shook his head. No, it’s fine. I’m too tired to go out anyway. Strange, though. I...not...don’t know why. His signs slowly fell apart as his train of thought got lost in the brain fog.

“Maybe you should take a nap, then,” Marvin suggested.

No. No, maybe it’s just dark or something, that can make you sleepy. JJ knew on some level that logic didn’t fully make sense, but he didn’t care. He stood up, swayed for a bit, then walked over to the nearest lamp. But just before switching it on, a strange, powerful wave of drowsiness overcame him, and he stumbled, and ended up holding onto the lamp for support.

“Are you alright? Don’t fall.” Marvin stood up as well and hurried over to join him.

Fine, Jameson signed loosely. He managed to flip on the light switch before losing his balance again. His muscles felt so weak all of a sudden, barely able to hold him up. What was...what was going on? This wasn’t...normal.

The lamp started swaying. “Be careful there.” Marvin grabbed JJ as he fell again, but the lamp toppled with him. Its lampshade tilted, directing the light from the bulb directly at Marvin’s face. “Aak! God damn it, just—hang on a moment, that went right in my eyes.”

Jameson frowned. Was...was it just him, or was something...wrong, there? In Marvin’s eyes. He felt a bit bad about looking directly into them, knowing how Marvin felt about eye contact, but...something was off. What was it? What...was it?

Marvin pushed the lamp away, only for it to tilt back. “Fuck this lamp,” he said under his breath, squinting against the light that was once again too close to his face. The...light? The light, the light...

There. There was the problem. It wasn’t anything wrong with Marvin’s eyes themselves, it was the way they were reacting to the light. One was reflecting an image of the lightbulb that was a little too perfect, a little too much like a mirror. The right eye, in fact. Also, the way Marvin’s head was turned, the lamp was shining right into his right eye, but he didn’t really squint until he turned slightly and caused the light to be more visible in his left eye. Almost like...he couldn’t see out of the right one.

Jameson let out a fearful squeak, and wriggled away from ‘Marvin’s’ grip. He fell directly onto the floor, not reacting fast enough to catch himself, but immediately tried to get up again. Yet his head was too clouded, movements...slowing...

“Hey, what’s wrong?” ‘Marvin’ reached down to help Jameson up, only to have his hand swatted away. “What’s—” He stopped. Jameson’s eyes were scanning the right side of his face, as well as his neck. And slowly, he grinned. “Oh, you figured it out, huh? Well, you were always pretty smart, Jamie.”

And with that, Jameson’s fears were confirmed. Nobody else called him that. He backed up until he hit the back of one of the chairs, then tried to grab onto that and use it to pull himself to his feet. There wasn’t much success, but...but he had to...to...what was wrong with him? Why...was he so...so...tired?

Anti didn’t look too concerned with Jameson’s reaction. He didn’t even chase after him. Instead he reached up to his face, and—“It’s pretty good, right?” The fake right eye came out cleanly, and Anti held it up. The glass eye wasn’t a sphere, but more of an irregular dome-like shape. Anti slipped it into his pocket. “His eye color is actually a bit different from mine, you know? A bit lighter. I debated if I should just use the one that matched my natural color, but I thought it would be better if I just went all the way and got the actual shade, then used a contact for the one...left.” He laughed at his own joke.

Jameson gave up on trying to stand up, and instead started fumbling with his pocket. If he could...could get his phone out, he could...text someone...get help...

“What’re you doing?” Anti quickly walked over, kneeling next to Jameson. He easily got through Jameson’s small attempts to push him away, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Oh. No, you can’t have that.” Anti tossed the phone across the room, hitting the wall by the door. “Sorry.”

JJ looked after it with a sinking heart. He couldn’t possibly...move to the door...or somewhere. He could barely move. Maybe he could...call for help? But as always, his voice didn’t cooperate with what his...what his mind wanted.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Anti said, oddly reassuringly. “The effects will wear off after a while, you’re not dying or anything. Just going to sleep for a bit. Sorry about that, too, but I thought you wouldn’t come with me if you knew who I was. And this shows I was right.” He gestured vaguely at Jameson’s continued attempts to get away from him. “I know your recent impression of me hasn’t been...favorable.”

Jameson could barely keep his eyes open, but he kept trying to inch away from Anti. This...couldn’t be...happening...

“Do you know what this feels like?” Anti whispered. “I thought you were dead, Jamie. For years. And once I find you, you’re just...here? In your own little world? Forgotten me?” He reached under his shirt and grabbed something tightly. And he smiled wide. “Well, no more. Now we’re together again. I know you’re a bit freaked out now, but trust me. It’ll be fine. Just like it used to be.”

The last thing Jameson did was shake his head, before finally closing his eyes and slumping over. Just like it used to be. Nothing scared him more.

[brokenstrangetown]

With school break in full swing, and two new babies looming, Kriemhild gets a bunch of her friends together to go out. Tommy and Georgia seem to be getting along great.

She's not sure what the fuss is about falling in love, but if they like it, fine, who is she to judge?

"Hi, Isaiah!" "Isaiah, I just want you to know, if you disrupt my outing, I will smile and let you go and corner you on a dark night and you will never be found again. I don't care who your dad is. I have Resources." "I...wasn't going to do anything. Jeez, paranoid much?"

The weather's good when they head to the carnival grounds, but the rain starts soon and they're driven inside. At least there's plenty of games.

"Ugh, there's sand in this cupcake."

"Check it out - I'm gonna make this ice into a swan!" "You do you, Krimmy!"

"Oh. Oh, heck. Where's my billfold?" "We'll retrace your steps and check on the ground. Surely no one in Strangetown is sleazy enough to pickpocket a Newson!"

[emmelfish]

Gabby: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu –

Justin: Yo Tina T, my Viper Canyon neighbor in gay solidarity! No I agree, I’m sure we’re not the only ones, law of averages says at least 50% of the 953 Newsons will be celebrating Pride with us. No, still haven’t quite caught up to you yet, can’t you tell from my voice? My birthday’s just around the corner so it’s still a bit weird that we’re friends but it won’t be tomorrow. Hey check this shit. Remember what they taught us at school about solids? Well apparently we’re all made of liquid. Or at least, our front door is and so is the wolfdog that’s just poked its entire body through.

Justin: There’s another one! If it thinks there’s some kind of hidden treasure in this house it’s sorely mistaken, my dad dresses like fast food for work and my mother has to sing to snot-encrusted kinder whose parents ditched them for the summer. We’re not exactly rolling in it these days.

[onestowatch]

Crowded Green Rooms, Hotel Rooms and Cars: How Julia Jacklin Made Space For ‘Crushing’ [Q&A]

On her sophomore album, Crushing, Australian singer-songwriter Julia Jacklin performs an act of self-reclamation in ten parts. She drives away, locks herself in her room, examines her body from head-to-toe in a full length mirror, and shakes the voice of an ex-lover from her head. Jacklin wrote the material for the album over the course of a two-year-long world tour while packed into “crowded cars, crowded stages and tiny green rooms” and a corporeal desire for space rings throughout.

Jacklin’s debut album, Don’t Let The Kids Win (2016), was a meditation on growing up and the mental reorientations the process demands. It established Jacklin as another star in the line-up of contemporary indie-folk-rock songwriter and storytellers from down under (including Courtney Barnett, Marlon Williams, Stella Donnelley and Aldous Harding, among others). The album supported two years of consistent touring — and when Jacklin finally settled home, she culled from the collection of lyrics and diary entries she’d put down while on the road and knit Crushing together.

Released on Feb. 22, the 10-track record sees Jacklin tightening her focus on love wearing thin, love ultimately lost and an aftermath that embraces scorn and longing in equal parts. Jacklin’s acknowledgment of the emotional incongruities of the breakdown process rings most true. The album opens with the five-minute burner, “Body,” in which we find Jacklin jumping in a cab to leave behind a partner who’s gotten them kicked off a domestic flight by smoking in the airplane bathroom. At the other end of the album, Jacklin sings “Comfort” like a lullaby to herself, repeating that her former lover will heal with time and, either way, “You can't be the one to hold him when you were the one who left.”

This push-and-pull — the tension between the comfort of space and the comfort of love — prompts us to wonder whether it’s possible to hold both. Jacklin presents us with the question, and in “Head Alone,” answers it by shouting, “You can love somebody without using your hands.” Crushing is granted a degree of relief as Jacklin observes from afar that one can manage to be both loved and liberated.

We spoke with Jacklin the morning after she’d landed in Paris from Australia, feeling, “jet-lagged and foggy.” She’d come from having a coffee and writing in her diary, a practice she’s kept up since she was ten and that makes her feel that she’s “accomplished at least one thing every day.” We discussed dancing alone, why Crushing is not a “Me Too” album, the mythical music industry roller coaster and what it means to be truly great.

Be sure to catch Jacklin on the Crushing tour at one of the dates down below: 

OTW: You wrote most of Crushing while touring your debut album, Don’t Let The Kids Win. Where and how did you find the space to write an album while on the road?

JJ: I wrote a lot of it in the car, looking out the window. Once I got used to travel and the touring lifestyle and surrounded myself with good people who understood me, knew when I needed space and who I didn't feel self-conscious in front of, I started to be able to write even when people were around. I wrote most of the record without a guitar in hand — I reckon I start writing 90 percent of my songs in the shower, actually. For every show, we’d have about forty-five minutes of soundcheck which gave me time to figure out the guitar patterns and chords while the band played along. That’s how it all began to come together.

OTW: How did the process of writing and recording for Crushing feel different from that of your debut album?

JJ: It was worlds different. The first record was a synthesis of my whole life, for which I tried to pick the best songs from all the years leading up to it. I went into it not understanding the recording process properly and feeling very intimidated by the studio. For Crushing, I felt pretty confident in the studio, and I was able to go into it with more of a voice. I didn't feel as much pressure as I thought I’d feel about the scary second record. That seems to be more of a myth than something any of us genuinely experience. It exists online and in the dark corners of your insecurity, but in your day-to-day life — you’re still the same person who loves writing the songs you’ve always written.

OTW: Did your newfound understanding of the recording studio works impact your songwriting for Crushing?

JJ: For me, the song comes first and production comes eighth. Production is important, but if you don't have the song in its core, then you’ve got nothing. There's no amount of layering or trickery that will make it sound good. It was actually the process of touring that helped me develop the songs by making me aware of what I wanted to play for another two years on the road. I realized that I didn’t want to get up there and just play quiet, soft songs every night — I needed songs that would make me feel alive and get my blood running.

OTW: The first two singles you released off the album, “Head Alone” and “Pressure To Party,” both explore the theme of ownership over one's body. How did these come to be the first songs introducing the album?

JJ: I did the same thing for my first record — released the songs in the order that they appear on the album. That's the way I want people to hear the record, sequentially from start to finish. There are definitely a lot of references to my body in the record — I listened back and realized that in the first five songs on the record I say something about my body. It’s a hard thing to talk about — I’ve been doing a lot of press lately and keep getting asked, “Is this a ‘Me Too’ album?’ and it’s like, “No, it's just the album that I've written about my experiences.” Women have been speaking about these things forever, it just so happens that the world is paying attention right now. I spent two years in shared beds, tiny green rooms, crowded rooms, crowded stages and crowded cars. The album formed once I finished that tour and finally just threw my arms out wide and emerged from that claustrophobia.

OTW: On “Head Alone,” it does feel like you're literally breaking out of the expected song structure when you arrive at the bridge — it feels like a different song entirely. Did the bridge surprise you when you wrote it?

JJ: On this record, I was trying to find ways to express these feelings without shoving them into a typical song structure. Initially the bridge was the chorus, and I was going to repeat it. But when we were recording, I realized that I didn’t want to say it again. Sometimes in songwriting the power can be in giving people something once — then they want it again, so they listen again and it’s more impactful. I always think about that with Joanna Newson, one of my favorite songwriters. She’s someone who manages to write a twelve minute song, and she’ll say something once, but you’ll remember it and it’s so powerful. It’s the classic “less is more.”

OTW: You’ve directed or co-directed (with longstanding creative collaborator Nick Mkk) all of your music videos for both Crushing and Don’t Let The Kids Win— when did you decide you were going to take on that role and how did you learn the ropes of directing video?

JJ: It was definitely a learning curve, but there’s a lot of stuff in the creative world that you just have to learn by doing. People often don't realize that. They think, “I need to go to school, I need to be perfect at it before I try it.” Making the music videos made me realize that, in the world of creative work, nobody knows what they're doing and everybody learns from doing it. It’s like that thing when you become an adult and you’re like, “Oh, nobody knows what’s going on.”

OTW: In about seven of your music videos, we see you dancing alone. What’s the story behind this means of expression?

JJ: I’ve started thinking recently that music videos are kind of dumb. I appreciate that some videos are incredible, but a lot of the time, it seems so crazy for me to take a song that has its own life, narrative, and meaning, and then to try to squish a whole other narrative on top of it. That's where the dancing comes in. Every time I think, “How I can represent this song in a simple way?” I’m like, "Oh, I'm going to dance! I’m going to dance in front of a star, I’m going to dance over here, I’m going to dance over there." My label and my manager have said to me multiple times, “Do you reckon you're going to do something else, maybe other than dancing by yourself? And I’m like, “Well, maybe…” and then I deliver the next music video and they’re like, “Ah no, here we go.”

OTW: Now that you’ve been steeped in the industry for a while, what have you found about it that you appreciate and that you need to take yourself away from as a means of self-preservation?

JJ: The industry is great in that it allows me to do what I do. It's driven me into a global community of people and made me feel I really belong somewhere. There is strange thing I’ve realized about the music world — it seems like you’re either up-and-coming, or you've made it, or you're irrelevant. There’s this set trajectory and you've got to figure out where you fit into it. Leading into this second record, I’ve been doing all this press and media and it’s all, “up-and-coming” and “next biggest thing” and you’re just like, “I thought I was just doing my thing, I didn’t realize I was on some strange ascent on a roller coaster.” It’s strange how we try to stick artists into some box where we perceive them to be at their career trajectory, when most of us are just going, “Oh, I thought we were all just playing music and doing our best.”

OTW: You speak about your musical contemporaries with a sense of camaraderie. I think it’s great how you acknowledge your musical influences and recognize that it's a part of the folk tradition to be guided by the work of others. Will you tell me a bit about how you experience music as a listener?

JJ: I think it’s odd when an artist puts a song up on the Internet and people hop on to say, “You sound like this or that person” as a means of dismissing their creativity. Of course we’re all borrowing, especially in the folk tradition— that was the whole point of the genre. I think it's a beautiful thing to be so inspired by someone that you write a song based off of what you listen to. Watching the artists I tour with is my music school. I toured with Andy Shauf for a month last year, and that was the most influential music school I've ever been to. We played 17 shows and 17 festivals together, and I literally would run from my set to go watch his. I’d just stand there, just drinking it in — of course it's going to come out your own music.

OTW: Speaking of artists whom you admire, in “Motherland” you have this line, “Will I be great? Will I be good?” If we’re trying to get outside of the narrative of the emerging, the successful and the declining artist, what does greatness in an artist look like to you?

JJ: At this point, it’s the artists who have clearly stayed true to themselves that I see as great. Like Japanese Breakfast — she works really fucking hard, she tries all these different mediums and I'm sure she’s failed a lot, but she just put her head down and pounds through. She doesn’t have to pour her heart out in every interview, but at the same time, she seems totally able to control her narrative. It’s great to see artists who — even though this industry is crazy and tiring and there are so people involved in your career, so many things that can slip out of your grasp and misrepresent you — manage to rise above that environment and represent themselves truly.

[penig]

Oh, look, the next house - essentially Newson Prime, though the people living there now are all named Hawkins or LeStrange - lies at the end of the rainbow! 

Also, Ginger’s cat Curry can play with the synthesizer. It apparently doesn’t block her access to the bird stick.

[nothingnothingaaa]

Jony Ive on Life After Apple

By Elisa Lipsky-Karasz, Nov 02 2022 (WSJ)

The mastermind behind Apple’s most iconic products reveals how his design philosophy guides collaborations at his creative collective, LoveFrom.

I can always write an awful lot that I can’t draw,” Jony Ive, the mastermind behind Apple’s most revolutionary products, says as he holds up a Space Age–style coffee cup. “If I draw this, it only captures certain attributes.”

Ive is sitting in the garden of a Pacific Heights carriage house high in the San Francisco hills, a building he converted into a private studio and occasional crash pad for friends. Apart from the cup—devised by Ive’s business partner and fellow designer, Marc Newson, and made by the Japanese brand Noritake—Ive designed nearly every indoor and outdoor element of this deceptively simple space, down to the grey marble bathroom sink and the garden’s round, rough-hewn stepping stones.

“Obsessive,” Ive calls himself, half joking. Entering his domain is like walking into a Gesamtkunstwerk (a German term for “total artwork”), something that arts and crafts movement founder William Morris might have created, but for a 21st-century Englishman who loves music, French-inspired gardens, Zen Buddhism and classic cars. One gets the sense that Ive created the space in part to prevent the pain of seeing anything he might deem poor design. “It’s very good for thinking,” he says.

Sir Jony Ive—as of 2012, the Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire—has his name on 1,628 U.S. patents, part of 14,000 he holds worldwide encompassing both software and hardware. During his time at Steve Jobs’s side, the designs that flowed from his pen spanned items as wide-ranging as Apple Store shopping bags, an oak display table and the company’s most-sold product, the iPhone. In Ive’s 55 years, he’s filled piles of sketchbooks with door handles, drills, landscape plans and AirPods, almost all with his trademark rounded corners, as though he wants to buffer the world against its harsher edges.

Examining those AirPods with Ive present is akin to discussing a hand-hewn sculpture with the artist. The rich snap of the magnetized top as the earbuds click into place inside their case is a feature he’d worked and reworked, along with the smoothly honed interior and the weight and the feel of the case in one’s palm. “I don’t know what I would do without magnets,” he says, with a laugh. By giving the case a function—charging the earphones—he knew users would be less likely to lose them. It’s not unlike the 19th-century picnic trunks he collects in which each fork, spoon, knife and glass nestles in a custom-made spot.

“[Jony] is a complete one-off,” says Deyan Sudjic, a writer and the director emeritus of London’s Design Museum, pointing out the millions of consumers who own Apple products. “No designer of the 21st century has reached more people with the effects of their work and the physical presence of their work…. Jony has tried to make this avalanche of [technological] change into a dignified, humanistic one,” Sudjic says. “In a world where we focus on screens and pixels but still need physical objects, he is fascinated by materials and cares a lot how people use things.”

One surprising thing about Ive’s approach is that conversation, rather than sketches, is how he often begins a project. Thinking—and then speaking about that thinking—is the raw material he works with. “Language is so powerful,” Ive says. “If [I say] I’m going to design a chair, think how dangerous that is. Because you’ve just said chair, you’ve just said no to a thousand ideas.

“This is where it gets exciting,” he says. “You have an idea—which is unproven and isn’t resolved, since a resolved idea is a product—and the only tangible thing about the idea are the problems. When someone says it’s not possible, and all you are being shown is why it’s not possible, you have to think and behave in a different way. [You have to say], from a place of courage, I believe it is possible.

“No designer of the 21st century has reached more people with the effects of their work and the physical presence of their work,” Deyan Sudjic, the director emeritus of London’s Design Museum, says of Ive. Apple’s former chief design officer is seen here in his studio, seated in front of “Apple” (1985), by Andy Warhol (Andy Warhol, “Apple,” 1985, from The Ads Portfolio, screenprint on Lenox Museum Board, 38 X 38 Inches, courtesy Of Ronald Feldman Gallery, New York, © The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts/Artists Rights Society (Ars), New York/Ronald Feldman Gallery, New York).

Jonathan Ive was born in 1967 in a northeastern suburb of London, where modest brick and Victorian townhouses peter out as they edge onto Epping Forest, a narrow stretch of ancient woodland. His father, Michael Ive, was trained as a silversmith and taught design at a vocational high school in East London and later for university students at Middlesex Polytechnic in North London. Jony often followed his father around, presenting drawings for go-karts, tree houses or other design ideas for his review. Once a year, as a special treat, Ive was allowed to make anything he wanted at his father’s Middlesex workshop.

“I really struggled to read,” says Ive, who was happiest being left to daydream with a sketch pad or to watch his father at work. “Fairly early on, I was labeled and described as an unsuccessful student,” he remembers.

When Ive was a teenager, the family moved north to the British countryside. He suffered from a slight stutter that made him reluctant to speak and gave the impression he was shy. “I didn’t fit in,” he says. “People wanted to bully me.” But an imposing build—and the fact that he played rugby—kept would-be tormentors in check. In high school, he started dating a pretty blonde, Heather Pegg, who attended the same church.

Though Ive’s gifts as a draftsman made him a candidate for fine art school, he knew what he wanted: a spot at Newcastle Polytechnic, an industrial design school. For once, he stood out as a star pupil, embracing the strict principles of the Bauhaus as expressed by contemporary designers like Dieter Rams, who in the early ’60s had become chief design officer at Braun. Ive likewise focused on the honesty of materials and the intended function of an object. Before graduation, he and Heather were married, and went on to have twin sons, Charlie and Harry.

“Language is so powerful,” says Ive, who often begins a new project with conversation or writing, not sketches. “If [I say] I’m going to design a chair, think how dangerous that is. Because you’ve just said ‘chair,’ you’ve said no to a thousand ideas.”

Ive did well enough that upon leaving university in 1989 he earned an award that came with £500 (about $750 at the time), which he immediately spent on a plane ticket to San Francisco—a place he’d heard was a design utopia. Ive was wowed by the anything-is-possible atmosphere of Silicon Valley, which seemed like a polar opposite to conservative England. Upon his return to the U.K., he vowed to find a way back to San Francisco.

In 1990, Ive became a partner at a new agency in London, Tangerine. Tapped by Ideal Standard to develop ceramic bathroom designs, he did extensive historical research and created myriad prototypes, but his finished proposals were deemed too difficult to produce. The sense that he had wasted his time demoralised Ive. At around the same time, however, he was commissioned to design portable computers for Apple. It turned out to be an audition. In 1992, when he was 25, Ive was offered a job there.

“I love making things that are profoundly useful. I’m a very practical craftsperson.”

— Jony Ive

“I wanted to be a part of this crazy California company,” Ive says now. Corporation is a word he reviles. “A group of people who are truly united in a shared sense of purpose” is what he prefers, and that’s initially what he hoped to find at Apple. Instead, soon after he joined, the company began to drift. The Newton tablet he designed in 1992 was praised by critics but largely ignored by consumers. Apple started to atrophy into an acquisition target. “The most important lessons you would never choose to learn because they are so painful,” Ive says. “The death of a company is so ugly.”

Ive, now head of industrial design, felt his sense of purpose being stripped from him. He toyed with the idea of leaving Apple. But then, on September 16, 1997, exactly 12 years after Steve Jobs had walked out the door to launch NeXT Inc., Jobs returned as CEO of Apple.

Ive, then 30, assumed Jobs would hire a more renowned designer to replace him, but something unexpected happened at their first meeting. “I clicked with Steve in a way that I had never before done with someone and never have since,” says Ive.

Soon the two were having near-daily lunches and Jobs was spending untold hours in the design studio, where he and Ive transformed ideas into tangible products, starting with the luminous turquoise iMac, launched in 1998. Jobs recognised that Ive’s design made something nerdy—a boxy desktop PC—into a symbol of carefree cool, an all-in-one design with a handle that made it more portable. The new iMac was a hit, and Apple went on to ship five million units by April 2001. The company was suddenly flush with success.

“When I look at Jony’s contribution at Apple, it’s not one product,” says Apple analyst Neil Cybart. “It’s the culture that he built.” Above: Ive’s own Apple products.

Ive’s role in the revival of Apple can’t be overstated, says current CEO Tim Cook, who was at the company during this era. Soon Ive’s control extended beyond the design studio into operations and production. Always a perfectionist, Ive traveled to Apple factories in Taiwan, China, South Korea and Singapore, sometimes sleeping on the line to ensure the precision he brought to one-off samples had been captured in the final product. In 2001, Ive helped launch the iPod with its trademark white headphones, and later the ultra-slender MacBook Air (2008) and iPad (2010).

And the iPhone, which in 2007 did away with a keyboard in favour of an oversize screen that Ive had fought for—a slimmer version of the iPod but with vastly expanded functionality. The glossy, multitouch screen, now widely copied by other smartphones, ushered in a new era of communication that put a mini computer in everyone’s pocket.

Newson, who had designed a mobile phone in 2003 for Japanese company KDDI and knew the challenges of such a project intimately, recalls Ive showing him an example of that first iPhone. Newson was then holed up in a Swiss chalet with his wife and newborn daughter, and the rectangular iPhone, with its glass screen and Ive’s signature geometry based on Bézier curves, seemed like an omen from the future. “This was groundbreaking,” says Newson. “Game changing.”

During this time, since 2003, Jobs had been secretly battling pancreatic cancer, which would eventually take his life in October 2011. Ive was there with Cook; Jobs’s wife, Laurene Powell Jobs ; and their children on the day that Jobs died at home. “I feel the burden of being so fortunate having spent so much time with Steve,” Ive says now.

After Jobs’s death and Cook’s anointment as CEO, Ive pushed for projects he thought would take the company into the future: wearable technology, including Apple Watch and AirPods. Ive believed the watch would aid people in myriad ways—particularly in the area of health, by helping to identify irregular heartbeats or other indicators of ill health. When it was released in 2015, some critics disliked the limited battery life, but in the seven years since, Apple says, it has become the bestselling watch in the world. “It’s not really a watch—it’s taking the form of something familiar to people, centuries of wristwatches,” says Sudjic. “It shows an understanding of the way we relate to the things we wear.”

By 2017, Ive was Apple’s chief design officer when his ultimate project was unveiled: Apple Park, the company’s new headquarters in Cupertino, which he’d begun with Jobs and Norman Foster and finished with the architect and his firm Foster + Partners. The main building, an immense ring, strives to create ease of movement and communication across departments.

“It’s the biggest product that ever could be,” says Neil Cybart, founder of the Apple analysis site Above Avalon. “It’s meant to be a product that will make it easier to make other products in the future, by aiding the process of collaboration…. When I look at Jony’s contribution to Apple, it’s not one product. It’s the culture that he built—the process that he developed that Apple now uses. Interesting things come from the pursuit of perfection.”

At LoveFrom—the San Francisco–based creative collective that Ive co-founded with Newson in 2019—the offices are tiny compared to Apple Park but just as open. (Ive resigned from Apple the same year he started the company, saying he felt a responsibility to do something significant and make use of what he’d learned to solve new problems.) No dividing walls cut up the space. The office is abuzz with conversations that sometimes continue at Ive’s office-away-from-his-office, the twin restaurants Cotogna and Quince. Vestiges of Apple’s secrecy around releases remain, with samples—either made for clients or for products that Ive may introduce independently—shrouded under custom suede covers.

Ive with the Leica camera prototype he and Marc Newson made for the 2013 (RED) auction.

One of the first employees hired by Ive was a full-time writer. (There are now more than 30 employees, many of whom worked with him at Apple.) Ive says LoveFrom is the only creative practice he knows of to have an on-staff scribe whose job is, in part, to help conjure into words the ideas that his team of graphic designers, architects, sound engineers and industrial designers come up with for its collaborations with Airbnb, Ferrari and others.

“I think people think of design as how something looks. But that’s a superficial definition—it’s how something works,” says Airbnb co-founder Brian Chesky, who says he called Ive as soon as he saw his resignation announcement from Apple and asked to be one of LoveFrom’s first clients. Chesky, who studied at the Rhode Island School of Design, adds, “I always thought I knew about design, but I never understood design on a deeper level until I worked with Jony.” Ive is able to meld classic analog design with techy ideas about user experience and interface design—more typically the province of engineers, he says. Chesky and Ive speak almost daily, a practice they began during the pandemic, when Airbnb’s bookings dropped 80 percent.

When the company faced cuts, Ive advised Chesky to proceed cautiously: “You aren’t going to cut your way to innovation,” he said. Instead, one of the ideas he pushed Chesky to develop was to think even bigger, including to move beyond the limitations of the reservation boxes on the Airbnb home page that read “Where” and “When.” Ive told Chesky that the company is about “connection.” The designer will often create white books for his clients filled with reams of references. One he gave to Chesky reads “Beyond Where and When.” Their work is ongoing, with Ive advising on everything from Airbnb’s logo to current strategy.

“I don’t know anything about business,” Ive demurs, but he abhors the current fascination with disruption. “I’m not interested in breaking things,” he says. “We have made a virtue out of destroying everything of value,” he says. “It’s associated with being successful and selling a company for money. But it’s too easy—in three weeks we could break everything.”

“It’s a dilemma for Jony. He is of the generation that believed that design should last and that it shouldn’t be replaced every year,” says Sudjic, “but now he is in the generation where technology is an unstoppable force. Is he leading it or is he following it? But that sense of skill and craftsmanship is vital to him.”

Ive is quick to look ahead. “Success is the enemy of curiosity,” he says. And for Ive, curiosity has taken on an almost moral or religious quality. “I am terrified and disgusted when people are absolutely without curiosity,” he says. “It’s at the root of so much social dysfunction and conflict…. Part of why I get so furious when people dismiss creativity is that [when] it’s an activity practiced in its most noble and collaborative form, it means a bunch of people who come together in an empathic and selfless way. What I have come to realise is that the process of creating with large groups of people is really hard and is also unbelievably powerful.”