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benjaminmoorepaint · 3 years ago

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writing canon era dialogue

for @fennecfett and @juliensorelisoverparty who asked about canon era dialogue!

To be honest, there is not a ton of advice I can give on this front because at the end of the day, it's a personal stylistic choice. Especially in English there is no one right way to do it. Even just looking at actual translations of Les Mis, you'll see there's a wide variety of language used--from the overly archaic to the highly modernized. And if you read current historical fiction, you'll find that it's not necessarily written in the style of the period--or sometimes it is! It's completely your choice as a writer.

But for most writers, you probably want to find a happy medium between using super modern slang or throwing around "thee" and "thou" like Hapgood does. Some basic tips:

It is generally a more formal style, but again, the extent of this is really your choice. If your intent is to sound more authentic, you may want to imitate the style of your translation or other works from the period.

Remember that characterization isn't just what's said, but how they say it--and this holds for any fanfiction, not just in canon era. Grantaire's style of speaking is long and rambling, Combeferre's is short and cutting (think long rants vs snappy comebacks.) Enjolras is ordinarily quite taciturn, but his speeches are lyrical and soaring. Etc.

One of the hallmarks of how Hugo writes Les Amis is their wit! Hugo and his characters love puns and wordplay.

If you're not sure whether or not a word or phrase was used back then, Google Books Ngram viewer is your best friend, since it can show you the frequency of its occurrence over time.

One specific thing I will caution against is the idea that a shortcut to making speech sound "old fashioned" is to just omit contractions (making every "don't" into "do not," "wouldn't" into "would not," etc.) It's not true that contractions weren't used in English in the 19th century, and of course French uses plenty of contractions. You may want to use them less often to preserve the formality of the language, but omitting them entirely will just make your dialogue sound stilted and unnatural--and very distracting to modern readers.

I'd also love to see more acknowledgement that most of Les Amis would not only speak French, and may not speak French as a first language. Being from the South (except Lesgle), it's likely they would have also spoken a variety of regional dialects of Occitan.

Now for the actual sources!

Since French in English language fanfiction is typically restricted to interjections or basic phrases, here's some from a French textbook from 1881.

(And of course, Courfeyrac's Pardieu!)

I also found something SO COOL while researching this: a French-English dictionary of idioms and proverbs, from 1830! Some examples:

"Does he expect that larks are going to fall roasted into his mouth?" > Does he expect a sudden fortune to fall to him?

"That's an ugly hat he's got there." > That's a bad mark on his character.

"He's in debt to God and the Devil." > He's up to his ears in debt.

"He drinks like a sponge." > He's a heavy drinker.

+ so many more! This is such a cool resource for canon era language, and definitely useful for adding a little color to your dialogue! The only thing is that the English translations in this book are NOT literal translations of the French, so it will help to have at least some knowledge of French.

For good measure, I've got two dictionaries of slang here too, although I'm not sure how useful they are for English language fic.

A Dictionary of Idioms, French and English

William A. Bellenger, 1830

New French Method

F. Duffet, 1881

Dictionnaire du jargon parisien: l'argot ancien et l'argot moderne

Lucien Rigaud, 1878

Argot and Slang: A New French and English Dictionary of the Cant Words, Quaint Expressions, Slang Terms and Flash Phrases Used in the High and Low Life of Old and New Paris

Albert Barrère, 1889

#resources #canon era #dialogue #les mis #les amis

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curryandbread · 3 years ago

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Hello there and welcome to Tumblr, I hope you're having a great day! If you're not too overwhelmed may I request Albert Moriarty (or John Watson if you're ok with writing for him) realizing that he's in love and how he would confess his love to his future s/o?

Realization + confession headcanons: Albert James Moriarty & John H. Watson

Thank you for requesting! that makes you my first Moriarty The Patriot requester!!! I love them too, so I’m excited to see how this goes! This will be a headcanon type.

Albert James Moriarty

Albert has gotten along with many other women. But when it came to you, he thought things would be easy.

He’d think why was it so hard to approach you?

Whenever you come in the Moriarty household to report your findings for the next plan, Albert would not stop looking at how your lips move, along with your mesmerizing eyes where he lost himself in.

When everyone else is dismissed from a small meeting, Albert accidentally blurts out your name. You turn around and wait for a response, and Albert would confuse himself as to why he called you and blatantly dismisses you.

William is the first to notice Albert’s behavior towards you. Albert remarks that you’re something that made him act up like this.

He knows this feeling a little too well. He felt like he was fallen a victim under your spell, and he does not want to wake up from it.

When duties happen around the household, he helps you carry the things you need whenever they need to be moved. He helps you sweep the dust off somewhere so it wouldn’t irritate your eyes or nose.

To come up as an excuse to stay with you, he’d call you into his office and he needs “help” to sort out the papers with you. For some reason Moran is irritated by this when he sticks his nose in between you two.

“There’s no point beating around the bush. I think it’s about time, Albert.” Moran points out, everyone clearly agreeing with the idea.

Albert seems stunned for a moment. He is not a little kid anymore, and he knows exactly what to do witht these feelings towards you.

He’ll simply invite you over for a walk around the manor’s gardens. He’ll call it a “break” and a way of thanking you for your hard work.

Being the suave man he is, he’ll do the classic old way of sending a message. He picks out a freshly bloomed tulip from the garden and gives it to you.

His hand in yours, giving the back of your hand a warm kiss with the softest smile he can give. He’ll slowly unfold his feelings, since he wants to be cautious if you’re easily overwhelmed.

And when you do accept his feelings, he’d put on the warmest smile on his face. He wants your relationship to be something more than a transactional finding, and he hopes to see it bloom into this wonderful thing called love.

John Watson

John caught your attention when you were drinking alone at a bar. Sherlock looks to the direction where John was currently looking at and nags him to grab another round.

Of course, a bustling pub means a place full of drunkards. And it is not looking pretty. You were defenceless, as the men who were not of soberness dragging you to somewhere harmful.

Later, John learns that you were a regular at that bar.

At times when Sherlock is off on his own, John will visit the bar secretly for you every now and then. Even though he is not a heavy drinker.

He likes talking to you, as if everything you say was new to him even though he’s heard of it many times.

Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock would be absolutely skeptical as to why John comes back home all fired up. Not even bothering to scold Sherlock for not cleaning his mess.

John soon felt as if he wanted to be with you his whole life. That’s when it clicked in him.

The more he talked to you, he’d leave love letters to the bartender of the bar where you always meet so you’d reach the letters whenever he’s not around.

You both would go on dates together at the park in a moonlit night.

There was a time when it was raining hard, and you had to seek for shelter, His coat hanging over your shoulders from the chilly air.

He felt the need to make a move. He calls your name softly and you turn to him. His warm hand meets your cheek, and press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Will you be mine?”

You stiffened, but was glad enough to return his feelings by doing the same.

#moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty #ynm #ynm albert #ynm john #john watson #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert james moriarty x reader #john watson x reader

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jcmorrigan · 4 years ago

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i crave..more blakeworther hcs..anything...please

So this isn’t really headcanons in the proper sense, but it kinda comes with some. I’m gonna do something a little different, because every time I get a hyperfixation, I end up assigning songs to it based on what I happen to listen to and connect to it, so here is going to be the songs I associate with Blakeworther (or with Albert and the other two come by association because him big favorite). And hopefully this will be some fun because a lot of these, you can’t actually see a direct connection - this was just my brain Doing Things and coming up with scenarios (also, some of the songs are steamier than others; proceed with caution)

Drunk - The Living Tombstone: I swear all three of them are heavy drinkers. It’s pretty much said that Vincent is an alcoholic and this is a Problem. They are all three in that boat. All three of them. Honestly, they all probably need serious help, but two of them are suffering from extreme trauma and the third represses his feelings to unhealthy levels, so they’re not likely to admit it soon.

United - Amberian Dawn: Okay, so you remember when in one of my past headcanon dumps, I put down “If they ever did drag lip-sync; don’t ask why I have this one?”. The shortest possible version of this is that when I get new lovelies who lean villainous, I like to imagine them putting on musical numbers, esp. to whatever song I’m listening to at the time. And this song was in my car one night when I just needed to imagine these three rocking out, so I’m like “And because AD is female-led, they’ve gotta be in drag, whether syncing or singing.” (The longer version of this story involves...go click the “What is the WHAM ARMY?” link on my main page. Yeah. I want them in on it. And karaoke AND drag are two core tenets of the WHAM ARMY.) Anyway, the mental image wrote its freaking self when I sat down to this. Albert in the pink ruffles, dancing like it’s his last chance to, taking Capri’s melody and eating up the limelight as multicolored strobes pulse around him. Victor and Vincent are doing the backup. Victor is really hamming it up while Vincent looks like he wants to die. Vincent eventually gets worn down and you have all three of them leaping dramatically about to this synth-metal song. And ever since then I can’t disassociate this song from them even though it has very little to do with them (other than that it’s about people who need each other to do their best).

Shoot Him Down! - Alice Francis: Unfortunately, I was STILL on the drag/karaoke kick when I went to listen to this one, and oh my goodness, just as a performance art piece, Albert would be like “I want to sing the murder song” and Victor would go “Cool, I love electroswing/jazz” and Vincent’s just “Are we doing this again? Was once not enough?” and it’s the same setup. Albert as lead hogging the spotlight and the other two are backup singers.

I’m Gonna Win - Rob Cantor: This is another case of the song showing up at the right time. I was thinking about Blakeworther while listening to this and it clicked. But it really kinda has that badass energy that they all three need. I can see Vincent singing this the DAY he got back from the near-death experience and started plotting his revenge, and the other two are like “HELL YEAH” and adopt this as their anthem. Their battle theme maybe.

Mamma Mia - HUGEL: Saw one of THOSE animation memes. Kruecent. This one if you must know. It encapsulates their dynamic PERFECTLY. And then you know what? There’s a Blakeworth one too. And it amuses me to all hell that anyone who’s ever animated VTSOM to this song is like “Vincent is that tired male vocalist” and we all agree his type is WHOEVER WOULD BE THE LEAD VOCALIST. This is Vincent’s hell and he loves it but good luck getting him to admit that. Anyway this was the first fandom I even saw THOSE memes for and I don’t even wanna look at others because this is already perfect

Mr. Sandman, Man Me a Sand - Okay I know it’s a shitpost of a parody but. It’s a combo of talking about a dream entity and riffing a CreepyPasta. And it’s off the shits. Is this Victor and Vincent singing about Albert, or is this Albert singing about the other two and having no idea how increasingly weird he’s getting? (As in...like...he legitimately forgot the words to Mr. Sandman and is just improvising.) It’s Albert-adjacent and I won’t hear arguing on this.

There will probably be more because I do the song thing with EVERY hyperfixation character/ship but for now I think that’s it

#albert krueger #victor blake #vincent edgeworth #blakeworther #all the links mean no main tag #so anon i hope you are checking in on my blog for this #but i couldn't just say the songs and not give you easy access to the songs

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handeaux · 4 years ago

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Green Beer Came Later: Cincinnati’s Original, Old-Time, Irish Saloons

So ubiquitous are the photographs of mustachioed men, feet up on the brass rail, plug hats screwed firmly upon their noggins, that you might be forgiven if you concluded that all Queen City saloons were identical. This is not the case.

For evidence, let us turn to a meeting of the General Protective Association of Saloon-Keepers convened on Tuesday, 24 April 1883, to discuss a new state law taxing dispensaries of alcoholic potations. Although the meeting convened at a German hall, the president, J.J. Abbihl, introduced the agenda in English. According to the next day’s Commercial Tribune:

“As Mr. Abbihl spoke in the English language, Mr. Albert Springer made a motion that the German language be used in the discussion, but it was agreed to make the explanations in English on account of the importance of the meeting.”

Although the German beer garden holds a sacred place in the gilded memories of Cincinnati, a fair number of local pubs were helmed by Irish and American barkeeps. Any discussion of group meetings involving saloon keepers is clear to distinguish between “German saloon keepers” and “American and Irish saloon keepers.” (Of course, in their segregated neighborhoods, there were also Black saloon-keepers, but they were not allowed to join the protective associations.)

In general, the Irish saloons hewed closer to the river, and you can see this among the watering holes listed in the city directories. You find O’Brien’s at Third & Ludlow, O’Herron’s at Plum & Ann, McCoy’s on Front Street, McSweeney’s at the southern end of John and Connor’s way down on Central.

While the Germans colonized Over-the-Rhine, that was not always the case. The WPA Guide to Cincinnati relates that O’Bryonville, with its Irish namesake but early nickname as “Dutchtown,” accommodated Germans and Irish in (not always happy) comity:

“Thenceforth the name Dutchtown also was applied to the community, and many arguments were started over the bars between Irish and German customers who were constantly striving for social supremacy in the little community.”

This distinction was underlined in 1877 when saloon-keepers throughout the city gathered to pressure Cincinnati’s brewers into maintaining standard prices. Throughout Cincinnati, you paid 5 cents for a tall glass of beer, except in a few disreputable dives where suds were dispensed at two glasses for a nickel. The saloon-keepers realized that there was only one way the dives could afford two beers at that price – some brewery was selling stock at a discount. In those confrontations, the German saloonists met at one location and the Irish and American barkeeps met at another. Although they endorsed the viewpoint of the German proprietors, the Irish and Americans elected their own delegation to confront the brewers.

It is clear, from newspaper coverage that the menus differed between German saloons and American and Irish saloons. William C. Smith, in his wonderful little book, “Queen City Yesterdays: Sketches of Cincinnati In The Eighties,” makes a distinction between the beer-centered German establishments and the Irish and America saloons that purveyed mostly the harder stuff. Smith avers there ought to be a strict differentiation between beer saloons and what he calls “boozing kens.” His description offers a physiological excuse for Irish and American drinking patterns:

“On a shelf next to the wall various brands of liquor were in evidence, some labeled and others in plain bottles, the quality of the latter known only to God and the proprietor. These emporiums were patronized by the Irish and American inhabitants who believed their stomachs to be lined with a substance that beer might corrode, whereas whiskey apparently acted only as a preservative and polishing agent.”

That distinction is fortified by a joke that, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer [23 September 1917], was so old it caused Cain to slay Abel:

“An Irish saloon keeper hired a new bartender. A man came in and got a drink of whisky and then said: ‘I’ll pay for this Saturday. My name is Murphy. The boss knows me.’

“’Wait and I’ll ask the boss,’ said the bartender. ‘Oh. boss,’ yelled the bartender up the stairs. ‘Is Murphy good for a drink?’

“’Has he had it?’ asked the boss.

“’He has,’ replied the bartender.

“’He is,’ replied the boss.”

It is not the case that all Irish and American saloons sold whiskey exclusively. Perhaps the premier Irish saloon in Cincinnati was Andy Gilligan’s Café on Vine Street directly opposite the Enquirer building between Sixth and Seventh streets. For nearly thirty years, Gilligan was famous for his luxurious beard, extending from his chin to his belt buckle. On warm days he was a living Vine Street landmark, basking in the afternoon sun as he stood outside his café enjoying a good 15-cent cigar. Gilligan ran book on local prizefights, but the cops usually looked the other way. He was known as an easy touch for actors down on their luck and a frequent host to heavy-weight champ (and prodigious drinker) John L. Sullivan. Despite his largesse, Gilligan left an estate worth a respectable $75,000 in 1905 dollars. Decades after his death, the Cincinnati Post printed a remembrance:

“Do you remember when no St. Patrick’s Day was complete without a peek at Colonel Andy Gilligan and his long whiskers resting on a great green sash in the Hibernians’ annual March 17 parade?”

During World War I, as Prohibition loomed, evidence accumulated that all of Cincinnati’s saloon-keepers were in the same, sinking, boat. As anti-German hysteria swept the city, nationalist firebrands were quick to point out Irish saloons catering to a German clientele. According to the Cincinnati Post [14 September 1917]:

“James J. Dolan runs a saloon at Richmond-st. and Central-av., which he calls ‘Zum Guten Happen.’ Now that German has nearly been put out of the schools, somebody, no doubt, will start a movement to put it out of Irish saloons.”

A similar situation obtained at an Oakley saloon managed by Patrick J. McHugh, called “Auf Wiedersehen.”

No discussion of Irish saloons can conclude without a mention of green beer. Now, before 1917, “green beer” meant improperly aged suds. A 1908 Wiedemann advertisement advised against drinking green beer because “it has practically no flavor and will cause biliousness.”

As for the annual emerald-hued St. Patrick’s Day quaff, blame the Elks. In 1917, in honor of the patron saint of Ireland, Cincinnati’s Elks lodges consumed green beer in abundant quantities. According to the Cincinnati Post, the verdant libation was concocted by a German brewer.

#cincinnati irish #irish saloons #andy gilligan #cincinnati saloons

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m0rgrugyn · 4 years ago

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so i had to write a short story for english and my cosmos bro gave me the great inspiration of writing about gay sirens killing men

The Visitor (aka a very cringe story that was way gorier than intended)

Albert was hungry. He had been for days. He was so hungry that he’d considered eating his legs. He would have, too, if it weren’t for his one ounce of common sense telling him that he’d die of blood loss.

His sailing ship, the Mary Rose, had been ransacked by pirates a week beforehand. His entire crew had been drowned, including his first mate, Hector. The pirates had stolen all the gold and food on the ship and left him to starve.

Despite all this, the only thing that had left him in a bad mood was the lack of food. He couldn’t have cared less about his shipmates, especially Hector. That man was a bother. Publicly, of course, he claimed him as his best friend, but privately Albert wanted nothing to do with him.

He’d spent most of the past week moping around in his cabin, feeling sorry for himself. In fact, at present he was so engrossed in his misery (‘Left on deck to starve! I ask you, couldn't they have had the decency to at least leave me a chef?’) that he barely noticed the thickening fog around him, and he certainly didn’t notice his ship drawing closer to the craggy rocks of the island up ahead...

Nearby, behind the rocks so dangerously facing Albert, two young women sat on a rug, eating from a picnic basket, happily holding hands and conversing. Or so you’d think.

This happy couple, seeming so innocent, were simply a diluted version of the creatures underneath. Hiding behind this mask of youth were two immortal spirits, old as time itself and with voices purer than anything you’ve heard in Mozart or Beethoven or Bach.

The Sirens, as you may know them, were far from young. They were also far from innocent. They’d killed more men than any other monsters, a fact they liked to brag about when they met people who were either somehow not affected by their song, deaf or just plain dense.

These occasions, however, were rare. They suspected that the sailors on the ship now approaching would be no different to the regular mortals they met. There'd been one arrival earlier named Hector, who called himself ‘Aromantic’ and claimed that it made him invulnerable to the entrancing noises of the Sirens’ singing.

Whether this was true they didn’t know and didn’t much care, but they’d let him leave, impressed by the willpower of the young man. He certainly had a future.

They’d had to laugh, and had done so many times, at the irony of the men who came rushing toward their island with hopes of finding and wooing the owners of such compelling voices. There had been a fair few instant proposals of marriage.

The Sirens had been questioned many times as to how they ever found happiness on an island with no men. To this they responded by laughing and kissing the other’s cheek. The look on the faces of those men when they realised! It was priceless. Of course, they never lasted long afterwards.

The approaching ship was becoming visible through the mist, and so the Sirens raised themselves from their comfortable seats and began to sing.

They raised their voices higher and higher, searching for the frequency that spoke most to their visitor. They sang a song of hope, of sorrow, every conceivable emotion blended into one and poured through the lips of the two young women on the shore.

It was not long before Albert heard their tune and, being already rather drunk on the few beer bottles left behind on the ship, was entranced immediately. He took the helm of his vessel and steered it unthinkingly towards the nearby rocks.

Albert threw the anchor from his boat into the depths of the sea with a mighty roar rather unbecoming of such a generally laid-back, even lazy person. The man, who’d never done a day’s exercise in his life, leapt off the side of the boat and began to swim towards the island.

The Sirens heard him approach and sang louder, for they knew they’d struck on a fitting tune. They watched the man climb desperately up the side of the island, weeping uncontrollably - that was the extent of the Sirens’ power. ‘Snack time,’ snickered one.

The man cried in delight at finding the makers of the music. He blustered towards them in his usual manner, shouting ‘Good ladies of the beautiful island on which I stand, pray lend me a place to stay, for I have been journeying so long-’

But he never got to finish his rather wordy speech (he was always one for unnecessary extravagance), for at that moment the two Sirens grinned at each other and descended on their unwitting lunch.

From that moment onwards, Albert Weston was no more. The Sirens would certainly be eating well today.

One grinned, ‘I heard he was a real heavy drinker,’ she said ‘he’d certainly have been persistent if we’d let him. Wasn’t he the one Hector told us about, darling?’

‘I think so. Imagine if he were so persistent, he came back to haunt us!’

But really, she knew he was gone forever.

i hate that closing sentence but it was one of the requirements of the story to end with ‘he/she knew it was gone forever’ and i couldnt think how else to do it

#the sirens #fiction #original story #but like cliche as fuck probably #idk how to tag this kind of stuff #mostly because i hardly ever post stuff i write #which is because i hardly ever write

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papermoonloveslucy · 4 years ago

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GEORGE NEEDS A RAISE

October 7, 1949

"George Needs a Raise” (aka “George Tries for a Raise”) is episode #57 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on October 7, 1949.

This was the fifth episode of the second season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND. There were 43 new episodes, with the season ending on June 25, 1950.

The script was later adapted for television as “Ricky Asks for a Raise” (ILL S1;E35) first aired on February 16, 1953.

Synopsis ~ Liz tries every trick in the book to convince Mr. Atterbury to give George a raise. To get results she even resorts to selling apples in front of the bank where he is employed.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George's boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father's garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) had worked with Lucille Ball on “The Wonder Show” on radio in 1938. One of the front-runners to play Fred Mertz on “I Love Lucy,” he eventually played Alvin Littlefield, owner of the Tropicana, during two episodes in 1952. After playing a Judge in an episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in 1958, he would re-team with Lucy for all of her subsequent series’: as Theodore J. Mooney in ”The Lucy Show”; as Harrison Otis Carter in “Here’s Lucy”; and as Curtis McGibbon on "Life with Lucy.” Gordon died in 1995 at the age of 89.

Gordon also played the boss Alvin Littlefield in the television version of this script on “I Love Lucy.”

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricarodo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz, a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

GUEST CAST

Frank Nelson (Waiter) was born on May 6, 1911 (three months before Lucille Ball) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He started working as a radio announcer at the age of 15. He later appeared on such popular radio shows as “The Great Gildersleeve,” “Burns and Allen,” and “Fibber McGee & Molly”. Aside from Lucille Ball, Nelson is perhaps most associated with Jack Benny and was a fifteen-year regular on his radio and television programs. His trademark was playing clerks and other working stiffs, suddenly turning to Benny with a drawn out “Yeeeeeeeeees?” Nelson appeared in 11 episodes of “I Love Lucy”, including three as quiz master Freddy Fillmore, and two as Ralph Ramsey, plus appearance on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” - making him the only actor to play two different recurring roles on “I Love Lucy.” Nelson returned to the role of the frazzled Train Conductor for an episode of “The Lucy Show” in 1963. This marksed his final appearance on a Lucille Ball sitcom.

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers it is morning. Katie is singing in the kitchen.”

The song Katie is singing is “Some Enchanted Evening” written by Rodgers and Hammerstein for their 1949 hit musical South Pacific, which had just opened five months earlier on Broadway and would continue until 1954. “Some Enchanted Evening” became a pop standard and was covered by many artists, including Frank Sinatra and Perry Como, who’s version hit #1 in 1949.

The stage show would be a punch line in “No Children Allowed” (ILL S2;E22). Ethel allows the Ricardos to stay in their apartment despite a clause in the lease forbidding children. She later repeatedly brags about her good deed. “My friendship with the Ricardos means more to me than all the money in the world…” She repeats the speech so often that Lucy quips: “That scene has had more performances than ‘South Pacific’!“ Authors and producers Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II dominated Broadway from 1943 to 1959 and were frequently mentioned on “I Love Lucy,” often as just ‘Dick and Oscar.’

Liz enters and wants to know why Katie is so cheerful. Katie attributes it to Mr. Nagy, the mailman.

LIZ: “Katie, have you been playing post office?” KATIE: “No, but I have been giving him a cup of coffee every morning. That’s three kinds of coffee I have to make every morning. He’s Silex. I’m an old-fashioned boil drinker, and you and Mr. Cooper are drip!”

Katie is referring to a coffee brewing system marketed by the Silex Company (now Proctor Silex). The name Silex is almost synonymous with any glass vacuum pot. At the 1939 New York World's Fair, the Silex Company's exhibit was dominated by a seven-foot replica of a Silex glass coffee maker in operation. It was considered superior to boiled water, drip coffee, or metal percolators.

Liz is desperately waiting for a bill from Miller’s Department Store that is due in today’s mail. Liz has overspent on a red velvet suit she couldn’t resist. George confronts her about the $98 expense and her history of her over-spending. Both Miller’s Department Store and Mr. Nagy the Mailman are running references on “My Favorite Husband”.

Liz encourages George to ask for a raise. George says he hinted at wanting a raise from Mr. Atterbury. Liz wants George to bring it up at dinner, as they are dining with the Atterburys that night. Liz begs George not to pick up the check and let Mr. Atterbury do it.

LIZ: “Every time the check comes he’s looking down at his fingers. You’d think he just discovered Uranium under his fingernails.”

Uranium is a very heavy metal found in most rocks that can be used as a source of concentrated energy. It was first identified in 1789 and named after the planet Uranus. As early as 1949, Popular Science Magazine started highlighting uranium hunting as a hobby using a device known as the Geiger Counter. In 1958, “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” joined the scores of other television shows and films by presenting “Lucy Hunts Uranium”.

The Coopers resolve to order the most expensive items on the menu and let Mr. Atterbury pay. That night,while Rudolph and Iris are waiting for the Coopers at the restaurant, Iris laments that George never picks up the bill. They resolve to let the Coopers pay tonight’s check and to order the most expensive items on the menu.

The waiter (Frank Nelson) comes by and they start with four bottles of imported Champagne. [Note: All Champagne is imported. Domestic is called sparkling wine.] Liz orders a Porterhouse steak and Iris orders a double lobster thermidor. The waiter feigns excitement about waiting on such big spenders.

Of all the roles Frank Nelson played on “I Love Lucy,” only once did he play a waiter: in "Lucy Changes Her Mind” (ILL S2;E21), repeating the role he created in “Liz Changes Her Mind”, episode 50 of “My Favorite Husband.”

Lobster Thermidor is a French dish consisting of a creamy mixture of cooked lobster meat and brandy stuffed into a lobster shell with a mustard sauce. Due to expensive ingredients, it is usually considered a dish primarily served on special occasions. Porterhouse Steak is a T-bone cut of beef. The origin of the term "porterhouse" is disputed, with several cities and establishments claiming to have coined it. Owing to its large size and the fact that it is one of the most prized cuts of beef, Porterhouse are generally considered one of the highest quality steaks, and prices at are accordingly high.

After dinner, everyone is stuffed and the waiter wants to know who will pay.

WAITER: “Will this be cash or do you want to finance it?”

Rudolph drops his fork and George claims he left his wallet in his other suit, fulfilling Liz and Iris’s predictions about how the men will avoid paying the bill.

Next day, Liz preps George on asking for a raise. Liz role plays with George giving him the bravery he needs to ask for a salary increase.

In Mr. Atterbury’s office, George can’t get out the words. Mr. Atterbury tells George he just fired Joe Ridgley for asking for a raise. Instead, George sheepishly asks for the key to the washroom! At home, Liz is dismayed to hear that George didn’t have the guts to ask, and vows to Katie to do her utmost to campaign on his behalf with Mr. Atterbury.

LIZ (about George): “Oh, he’s so wishy-washy. And if he doesn’t stop being so wishy I’ll have to take in washy.”

Later, Mr. Atterbury calls George in to his office and tells him of Liz’s ‘campaign' consisting of four anonymous phone calls, and three telegrams, one of which said:

“I think you should give my brother a raise - signed Gary.”

Gary Cooper (1901-1961) was one of the most popular and successful actors in Hollywood. In 1949 he could be seen in the Warner Brothers picture It’s a Great Feeling. Cooper was mentioned in two episode of “I Love Lucy” but never acted opposite Lucille Ball. She did, however, impersonate him in “Lucy and Harpo Marx” (ILL S4;E28) in 1955.

As George and Rudolph are leaving for lunch, a rock comes crashing through the window with a note tied to it:

“Dear Mr. Atterbury - George Cooper deserves a raise. Signed, an important depositor. PS: Sorry, I thought the window was open.”

When the men go to lunch, Liz is on the street disguised as an apple seller!

LIZ (in a trembling voice): “Apples! Apples! Buy an apple, Mister. Buy an apple and help a starving vice president and his wife!”

Liz’s apple seller was inspired by the Damon Runyon story “Madame La Gimp” which was made into the 1933 Frank Capra film Lady for a Day, starring May Robson as Apple Annie. It was remade in 1966 as Pocketful of Miracles starring Bette Davis. In 1972, Lucy Carter went undercover as “Dirty Gertie” (HL S5;E10), a direct nod to the story and films.

Later George phones home to tell Liz he’s been fired! It seems Liz sent 10 rag-tag children to his office yelling “Daddy I’m hungry!” Liz says she borrowed them from Mr. Wood next door.

In “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15), Lucy Ricardo suddenly invents ten children, to dissuade an amorous butcher (Edward Everett Horton) and push him toward an elderly spinster (Bea Benadaret) who is sweet on him! Coincidentally, Bea Benadaret played the spinster, and plays Iris Atterbury in this radio episode. Liz says her ten were borrowed from Mr. Wood who was usually played by Hans Conried. In other episodes he had 11 children, so one is either too young or otherwise engaged!

Katie reminds Liz to cancel her sky-writing order. Liz gets an idea. Instead of writing out “George Cooper Needs A Raise” she will send a new message. She phones the skywriter:

LIZ: “Hello. This is Mrs. George Cooper. What? No, I didn’t order ‘She’s lovely. She’s engaged. She uses Pond’s’.”

As the skin-care business became more competitive in the 1920s, Pond’s tried to boost sales through an extensive advertising campaign based on testimonials. The new campaign, which began in 1924, attempted to give Pond’s cold and vanishing creams more cachet by having them endorsed by socialites and members of aristocracy. Pond’s continued to use testimonials through the ‘She’s Engaged, She’s Lovely, She Uses Pond’s’ campaign of the 1940s and beyond. [For plot purposes only apparent at the very end, the writers reverse the order of the slogan, putting “she’s lovely” before “she’s engaged.”]

Liz tells the skywriter to spell out “MR. ATTERBURY IS A STINKER” in letters a mile high! Liz goes down to the bank to assure Mr. Atterbury sees it.

At the same time, Mr. Atterbury tells George that instead of being fired, he’s being promoted; from third vice president to executive third vice president. Liz arrives and at first refuses to acknowledge Mr. Atterbury.

LIZ: “Come on, George. Get your things and let’s leave this marble sweatshop!”

George breaks the good news to Liz of his promotion and all three go off for a celebratory drink. Outside on the street, Mr. Atterbury sees some skywriting starting and stops to see what it will spell out. A shocked Liz let’s out an “Aye-yia-yai-yai-yai!”

Coincidentally, this a Spanish exclamation of surprise often let out by Ricky Ricardo on “I Love Lucy,” so it is odd to hear patrician Elizabeth Elliott Cooper use it. In real-life, Lucille Ball had been married to Desi Arnaz for nearly nine years, so she was quite used to it!

The skywriting starts with “MR”...

LIZ: “It’s probably just an ad for that show, ‘Mr. Roberts’. Come on, let’s go.”

The show Liz is referring to is the Broadway adaption of the 1946 book Mr. Roberts by Thomas Heggen. The play opened in February 1948 and went on to win a Tony Award for Best Play (the first ever) and closed in August 1950. Henry Fonda, who dated Lucille Ball briefly when she first got to Hollywood, played the lead and got a Tony as well. The play opened at the Alvin Theatre, where Lucille Ball would star in Wildcat a dozen years later. Fonda repeated his role in the 1955 film. There was also a radio adaptation in 1953, and a short-lived NBC television series in 1965.

The skywriting continues: “MR. ATT...” Liz asks Mr. Atterbury to tie her shoelaces. George points out that she is wearing pumps.

More skywriting: “ATTERB...

LIZ: “It’s probably an ad for that piano player, José Atterby.”

Liz is referring to José Iturbi (1895-1980), who was a Spanish conductor, pianist and harpsichordist. He appeared in several Hollywood films of the 1940s, notably playing himself in the musicals Thousands Cheer (1943) with Lucille Ball, his first big role.

The final letters of the name are spelled out: “ATTERBURY”. Liz still tries to convince him the skywriting has nothing to do with him.

LIZ: “It’s that soft drink. (Liz sings) ‘Atterbury hits the spot! Five full ounces, that’s a lot!”

Liz is paraphrasing the Pepsi-Cola jingle written for radio in the 1930s by Austen Croom-Johnson and Aland Kent. Liz says “Five full ounces” instead of “12 full ounces”. Most soft drinks sold a 6 ounce bottle for a nickel. Pepsi sold 12 ounce bottles for the same price. It was recorded in 55 languages, played in Symphony Hall, and more than one million records were released to jukeboxes.

Finally, the full message appears in the sky: “MR. ATTERBURY IS LOVELY!” Mr. Atterbury is touched and Liz is (to say the least) surprised. They all go off happily for a drink! End of episode.

[Although it isn’t overtly stated, we must assume that the skywriters got the Pond’s ad mixed up with the Cooper ad, explaining the sudden message change!]

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kiwi--kitten · 4 years ago

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I went on vacay and got drunk a lot last week and have been feeling mentally slow for days. What happened inside of my head?

PET scans prove that endorphins bind to opiate receptors which cause those good feels from getting drunk. Since endorphins act on the opiate receptors in our brains, they reduce pain and boost pleasure, resulting in a feeling of well-being – in evolutionary terms, we developed endorphins to help fuel us bit by bit when hunting game or collecting food. An interesting connection to make here is that this is also why we feel good when we exercise – yes, we all know the answer is endorphins; But, the fascinating aspect is why we developed them: if it weren’t for the release of endorphins during our primitive human stages, we would not have been able to push ourselves to search for food when hunger and exhaustion set in.

But I digress,

What’s going on in the brain?

Alcohol stops the chemical signals between neurons which causes an immediate result of intoxication. Intoxication includes feelings, which we’re all familiar with, such as:

-impulsivity

-slurred speech

-poor memory

-sluggish reflexes

This happens because the functions of the occipital lobe (responsible for visual processing) temporal lobe (responsible for processing auditory perception,) and frontal lobe (does a bunch of different stuff, but primarily considered the emotional control center and home of our personality) all experience temporarily decreased capability and strength. The parietal lobe (which processes sensory information) also becomes impaired which leads to a disruption of fine motor skills and reaction time. We’ve all had a night or two that we can’t quite remember – this happens because the hippocampus, the brain region that helps make new memories, is unable to function correctly on alcohol and thus results in temporary loss of (new) memory. Essentially, alcohol obstructs the capabilities of many different parts of your brain while also damaging neural brain pathways– ultimately causing you to feel disoriented, confused and even sick.

However, in the long term our brains adapt to the blocked signals by overcompensating once alcohol leaves the system. It does this by continuing to over-activate neurotransmitters which can cause painful withdrawal symptoms (hello hangovers) which can damage brain cells. This type of brain damage is exasperated by drinking binges or sudden withdrawals.

In the long run, brain matter will also become damaged from heavy alcohol consumption in the form of “brain shrinkage” which is a reduction of cell bodies and cell pathways (gray matter and white matter.) Clusters of gray matter in a brain have been thought to show the intelligence of a particular individual, with a higher concentration of gray matter showing greater intelligence. For example, when Albert Einstein passed away his brain was studied and proved to show very high concentrations of gray matter – this stuff is important, take care of it!

The prefrontal cortex, responsible for the “higher functions” of cognitive processing (such as problem solving, impulse control) are most vulnerable to damage – so alcohol-related issues tend to be more serious once they affect this part of the brain. This is also why we hear that teenagers should not drink: their frontal lobes are still developing and are sensitive to any damage. Interestingly so, cognitive deficits are heightened by malnutrition- especially when a deficiency of vitamin B is present. (Side note, apparently this is a very common deficiency in alcoholics. If you’re a heavy drinker, talk to your doctor about taking a high vitamin B supplement.)

Alcohol remains in your urine for about 80 hours and will be found in your hair follicles for as long as three months.

Did my glass of wine make me dumb?! Our brains are incredibly plastic. In simple terms this means that our brains are constantly adapting to our surroundings and are a very living thing. The good news is that if started in time, abstaining from alcohol can actually reverse most of the physical damage caused by hard core drinking.

For most people, your brain can heal – just make sure you actually give your brain a break from booze. BUT! Keep in mind, studies have shown that relapsing into heavy alcohol consumption (think binge drinking) will reverse the regeneration and healing that occurred after a period of abstinence. In very heavy users, most valuable cognitive improvements begin after a full year of alcohol abstinence.

Long story short: never binge drink – and if you must, say for a birthday or celebration, then give yourself a long time to heal and detox.

https://www.nm.org/healthbeat/healthy-tips/alcohol-and-the-brain https://www.hazeldenbettyford.org/education/bcr/addiction-research/alcohol-effects-brain-ru-515

https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/this-is-your-brain-on-alcohol-2017071412000

#brain #cognition #alcohol #booze #alcoholism #teenager #medicine #neuralpathways #neurology #neuroscience #endorphins #bingedrinking #binge #howtobesmarter

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militaryonline · 2 years ago

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Christiano ronaldo fifa 15

A clean body and a giving heartįootball today has been marked by stars who have inked their bodies in tattoos, from the likes of Dani Alves and Zlatan Ibrahimovic. Suggested Reading : 10 Incredible Lessons We Learned From Michael Phelps on Grit and Perseverance 5. When Ronaldo was asked Alfred why he refused the intake position, he simply responded, "You're better than me." The rest, as they say, is history. In his younger years, Albert was admitted to a football academy, however, he turned it down and Ronaldo was taken into the academy. Ronaldo has accredited his success to Albert Fantrau. This one is not really about Ronaldo -at least not directly, but without this fact, you might never have heard about him. Very little has changed, as few would match his skill and speed when he has the ball.

The latter nickname was because he was as quick as a bee when he was playing football.

When other kids would fight on the pitch, Ronaldo would result in tears as his favorite conflict resolution method. The former was because he would more often than not cry if things didn't go his way. He was referred to by two popular nicknames, 'crybaby' and 'little bee'. Growing up, Ronaldo didn't have the catchiest of nicknames. Suggested Reading : The 5 Most Iconic Athletes in the History of Sports and Their Inspirational Stories 3. His mother, Maria was a cook and a cleaner, and she would work until late night so as to provide for her children and family. His father Jose, was a gardener and the footballer recollects his father was a heavy drinker. He was born into a family of four as the last born. His birthday and family backgroundĬristiano Ronaldo was born on 5th February 1985. You may have known that, but what you may not have known is he was named after Ronald Regan, a former U.S President who was greatly loved by Ronaldo's father. His actual name is Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro. Many football fans only know him as Cristiano Ronaldo, however, when you dig deeper, you will find his name is a little longer.

#Christiano ronaldo fifa 15

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moma-jo · 3 years ago

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Vintage from the 1960s

Ships from a small business in

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Canada

Materials: vinyl record, clear 3mil cover, no inner sleeve

Description

Paul Anka, Young Alive and in Love, 12" record Long play 33 1/3 Side 1: LPM 2502 (N2PP-1141) Side 2: LPM 2502 (N2PP-1142) I bought this in a box of oldies at a garage sale, played it a few times, I like B4 I Love You, am thinking about recording it myself with me singing and hubby playing the guitar. the URL at the bottom is the whole album on YouTube. i was impressed to hear that Paul did over 900 songs in his carreer...lol... I am just trying to record one.... Outer Sleeve, New condition: Clear 3mil vinyl Cover Jacket Condition: Poor as there is water damage and previous owner from me wrote her name on it. AS-IS, Record Condition: good condition, clean but well used. Side two has two visible scratches but still plays ok. Inner Sleeve Condition: N/A Made in Canada Record Label: RCA Victor Company Ltd., Montreal-Copyrighted Released: 1962 “New Orthophonic” High Fidelity Style: Rock & Roll, Pop Rock, Vocal Artist: Paul Anka Arranged by Ray Ellis Title Song and Special Material Written by Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn Here are several facts of Paul Anka’s life you may be surprised to learn that I found on the internet. At 16, he joined the "Biggest Show of Stars" tour with the likes of Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry. He wrote a song for Holly, "It Doesn't Matter Anymore," just before the singer died in a plane crash. It was a posthumous hit. Anka gave his royalties from the song to Holly's widow. In 1962, Johnny Carson asked him to write the theme song for a new version of Tonight on NBC. 3. As rock 'n' roll became popular, his throwback style led him to the place that would define the rest of his career: Las Vegas. 4. As a headliner in Vegas in the '60s, he had a front seat for the heyday of the Rat Pack. He idolized Frank Sinatra. In 1968, he wrote the lyrics to "My Way" — written for Sinatra's impending retirement — in a single night. Of all the songs he's written, "She's a Lady," which was a No. 1 hit for Tom Jones, is his least favorite. Even the songs he wrote as ad jingles became hits. In 1975, "The Times of Your Life," written for a Kodak commercial, hit No. 7 on the Billboard charts. He cowrote Michael Jackson's final hit, "This Is It," which was released after it was discovered at the singer's home following his 2009 death. It was recorded in the early '80s, but Anka says Jackson secretly took the demo tapes from Anka's studio. He has four grown daughters and a 7-year-old son. Paul Anka said, “If you're fortunate enough to do something that you do love, if you have a passion, then you're never working a day in your life. And that's me since I'm 16. With all the Rat Pack experience, I came away from it not being a heavy smoker or drinker because I saw what it did to them. Eating properly and exercise, and mentally keeping myself in the right place with the right kind of pressure: It's worked for me. I've been protective of my body for the last 40-some years. If you do that, and stay active, you got a shot at having a real, unfettered life, and keeping the brain working. I've seen too many guys retire, even Frank, and they sit around counting their money and they just die. They throw dirt on you if you stand still, and I've been afraid of that. I just keep moving and doing what I'm doing.” Tracklist A1 Young, Alive And In Love 3:17 (Sammy Cahn-Jimmy Heusen) A2 Young And Foolish 2:24 (Arnold Horwitt-Albert Hague) A3 Younger Than Springtime 2:40 (Rodgers-Hammerstein) A4 You Make Me Feel So Young 2:49 Josef Myrow-Mack Gordon) A5 This Life Of Mine 3:52 (Paul Anka) A6 Life Is Just A Bowl Of Cherries 2:16 (Lew Brown- Ray Henderson) B1 I Love Life 2:21 (Cassel-Manna-Zucca) B2 Aren't You Glad You're You? 2:43 Johnny Burke-Jimmy Van Heusen) B3 Love Your Spell Is Everywhere 3:19 (Elsie Janis-Edmund Goulding) B4 I Love You 2:39 (Harry Archer-Harlan Thompson) B5 Falling In Love With Love 2:47 (Rodgers-Hart) B6 You're Just In Love 4:03 (Irving Berlin) B7 Finale: Young, Alive And In Love (Sammy Cahn-Jimmy Heusen-Paul Anka) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-1AT0EhgVw

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bangkokjacknews · 3 years ago

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Alcohol bans may kill more people

There are thought to be around one-million Thais who are dependent upon alcohol, according to Sawitri Assanangkornchai, the director of Center for Alcohol Studies at Prince of Songkla University.

But visual evidence would suggest there are at least ten times that number who can be considered regular, heavy drinkers. Ten-percent, it is conceded, would be regarded as 'severely dependent.' And yet without a thought, it seems, to any of these people, the Thai government imposed a ban on the sales of alcohol throughout the kingdom - without notice and effective immediately. The excuse, of course, is the risk of social gatherings spreading COVID-19, but the benefits of the booze ban are entirely unknown and unprovable. As are the benefits of closing convenience stores at 10pm and taping off bicycle pathways. What is known, and provable, is the effect a sudden and enforced withdrawal from alcohol can have on even the mildest of users. For heavy drinkers the risk of dying from sudden withdrawal is very real. Cold turkey can be deadly. Thoughtful people have long said that any program for becoming sober should not be entered into lightly. Because during alcohol withdrawal, many nasty side-effects can be experienced. What can happen when clueless governments impose alcohol bans? Alcohol is a depressant, meaning it slows or lowers the functioning of the central nervous system. Through regular use the body eventually becomes conditioned to the presence of alcohol and is able to adapt to it. During withdrawal, the functioning of the central nervous system struggles to re-adjust to the lack of alcohol. And before it does there is a hyper-sympathetic state, which means rapid heart rate, higher temperature and sweating. Which, by the the way, are the same symptoms that people are being diagnosed as Coronavirus Positive by. And sufferers will need immediate medical treatment. https://albertjack.com/2020/10/30/how-many-are-dying/ The most serious effects More serious symptoms of withdrawal, known as alcohol withdrawal syndrome (AWS), include delirium tremens (DTs) in people with an alcohol dependence. The effects of AWS can appear within hours of stopping drinking, or emerge several days later. Symptoms of AWS will include shaking, headache, high blood pressure, anxiety, and tachycardia (increased heart rate). Again, the same as Coronavirus symptoms. DT is also a serious type of alcohol withdrawal that can very easily prove to be fatal. It is common among people with a history of alcohol withdrawal, those who drink heavily, and those who have had an addiction to alcohol for more than 10 years. The most serious symptoms of DT are seizures, hallucinations and confusion. All of which appear to be in evidence throughout the Thai government. More serious effects of AWS and DT can lead to physical trauma due to seizures, as well as metabolic issues. Low electrolyte levels can lead to cardiac complications during withdrawal, including arrhythmias and sudden death resulting from heart attack and stroke. The only thing more dangerous to an alcohol abuser is the sudden availability again, without restriction. All of this means the government of Thailand, and some other countries, has now exposed between one and ten million people to the risk of seizure and sudden death, probably without realising it because they don't seem capable of thinking anything through properly. Provincial governors have imposed extended bans in some provinces that criminalise the buying and selling of alcohol without understanding the danger that brings to the health and safety of millions of citizens. Which only further proves that the people we rely on, and who assume responsibility for our well-being, have no idea what they are doing. - Albert Jack Read the full article

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jorgemiroslavjarasalas · 6 years ago

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Jorge Miroslav Jara Salas: Flower power | Matt Walls Wine Blog

Domaine Albert Boxler, Alsace

The following is an article written for on-trade drinks magazine Imbibe.

In a world of Pinot Grigio and Sauvignon Blanc, floral whites are a tough sell. Matt Walls asks top somms which varieties might be ready for a summer of love…

The tastes of sommeliers are sometimes at odds with the wine-drinking public. I’m talking about what they wear, of course – formal monochrome went out with Kraftwerk – but also what they drink. Kiwi Sauvignon Blanc and Argentinean Malbec are loved by consumers but often loathed by professionals. Conversely there is one category of wines that, for all their enthusiasm, somms can have trouble shifting. Floral whites such as Viognier, Gewurztraminer, dry Muscat and Torrontés are distinctive, food-friendly, great value and have a strong sense of place. But for your average wine drinker they’re as trendy as baggy jeans worn with platform shoes. We talked to some of the UK’s hippest sommeliers to see how best to work with this style of wine, and if any of them might make a comeback.

Viognier

Viognier is the most widespread of our four grapes but there was a time when it nearly died out completely. The variety was once only found in Condrieu in the Northern Rhône, where in the 1950s plantings dwindled to just six hectares as growers abandoned the steep terraced vineyards in favour of an easier life. It has since made a comeback and can now be found planted from California to New Zealand.

Full-bodied and opulent with aromas of peach, jasmine and almond, it’s nothing if not distinctive. But it’s not the easiest grape to handle; less successful examples can be flabby, oily or overly pungent. As with all powerfully flavoured wines, it divides opinion. “Some people love it, some hate it,” says Jacopo Mazzeo, Head Sommelier at The Pig in Brockenhurst, Hampshire. “I don’t see many people actively looking for classic expressions of Viognier,” he says, but “Viognier from the New World appears to be a bit more popular” as it usually offers good value for money.

Neil Tabraham, owner of Wine Geeks Wine School, says there’s value to be had at the top end too with Viognier. “A good Viognier can compare to a good white Burgundy with broader pairing appeal,” he says, “but for a much smaller price tag. They can also age well which is a consideration at the top end that may not sell so quickly.”

How does it work with food?

Fish and shellfish are a common match for Viognier. Nacho Campo at London steak specialist Hawksmoor Borough suggests scallops, lobster and lemon sole, but would even match it with beef, such as “a lean steak, like a fillet, with béarnaise and cauliflower cheese”. Paul Amsellem of leading Condrieu estate Domaine Georges Vernay suggests asparagus, lobster, scallops and goats cheese with his wines but says it’s important to remember to avoid acidic sauces, which can show up the lack of acidity that is a calling card of the grape.

So, is it likely to make a comeback?

Support for Viognier seems to be strong. Jacopo Mazzeo believes “we’re going to see a lot more Viognier from the New World (e.g. South America and New Zealand) in the coming years”. But some sommeliers want to keep the good stuff to those in the know. “I do not wish Viognier and especially Condrieu to be fashionable!” says Stamatis Iseris of The Strathearn at The Gleneagles Hotel in Perthshire: “I would like it to remain a diva.”

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Fashion equivalent: floral maxi dress Little black dress matchability score: 8 Next big thing comeback rating: 7

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Gewurztraminer

Often thought to be a German speciality, Gewurztraminer is much more common in France, specifically Alsace, and is growing in plantings worldwide. It’s another full-bodied, exuberantly aromatic grape, but this time the floral allusions are roses rather than jasmine, backed up by lychee, citrus and Indian spices.

Most sommeliers I spoke to love Gewurztraminer – with reservations. Valentin Radosav, Head Sommelier at Indian fine dining restaurant Gymkhana in Mayfair, London, describes it as “a tricky grape” that can lack balance. “Sometimes too floral, other times too heavy in texture, it lacks that ripe citrus element (orange, grapefruit) to balance the heavy or floral texture. But when you get all the elements right, you have an amazing experience ahead. It’s a grape that’s worth more attention.”

A major sticking point with Gewurztraminer is knowing how sweet it’s going to be – thankfully within a couple of years in Alsace it will be obligatory to state this on the label. Iseris admits it’s an unpopular grape, but blames this mostly on its name. “With or without an umlaut, it’s a tongue-twister,” he says. But he praises its versatility and diversity. Tabraham agrees. “I’m sure I could create a fantastic and varied tasting menu just using Gewurztaminer to pair with,” he says, “in fact, I may just try that one day. It’s also hugely appreciated by guests when served as a pairing wine.”

How does it work with food?

Its affinity with Indian and Asian dishes is well-known, and confirmed by Radosav. “It’s very good for Indian food, because it’s expressive in flavours and has the texture and the consistency on the palate. At Gymkhana we have various Gewurztraminer from France, Italy, Germany and Chile. My favourite is the 2008 Steingrubler Grand Cru from Barmes Buecher, Alsace, France. It’s very complex, well balanced, a great value wine that I recommend for rich and hot spicy dishes. An excellent choice for our Gilafi Quail seekh kebab, served with green chilli chutney.” Jean Boxler from Alsace legend Domaine Albert Boxler advises pairing it with cheese – but never dessert.

So, is it likely to make a comeback?

Gewurztraminer will continue to gain fans and detractors in equal measure, but it’s unlikely a grape with such eye-popping flamboyancy will ever seduce the mainstream. Iseris thinks it can, but “only if sommeliers acknowledge its astounding versatility and use its diversity of styles accordingly.” Now there’s a challenge.

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Fashion equivalent: 1960s French haute couture Little black dress matchability score: 7 Next big thing comeback rating: 4

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Dry Muscat

Another Alsace speciality, but Alsatian Muscat is very different to Gewurz. It’s reliably dry, light-bodied and relatively low in alcohol, with aromas of orange, fresh grapes and a clean, grassy freshness. Dry Muscat can also be found in the Roussillon, Portugal, Hungary, Italy and Chile. ‘Muscat’ is a broad church, encompassing dozens of different grapes; in Alsace, however, Muscat can refer to either Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains or Muscat Ottonel.

Most wine lovers know Muscat as a sweet grape. “It’s so strongly associated with sweet wines,” says Mazzeo, “that consumers find it hard to change their perception of the grape” and this holds the dry style back. It’s a shame, as it can be a refreshing and versatile wine and from entry-level wines up to Grand Cru level it often represents good value. Tabraham is a fan. “It’s generally fresh, crisp and aromatic and not too challenging or alcoholic.”

But it’s not without its drawbacks. “I can’t help thinking,” Tabraham continues, “that it’s just too simple, even for less sophisticated palates.” Radosav agrees that it can lack complexity and length on the palate. But great wines need to be grown on great terroir, and all too often it’s Riesling that gets first dibs, as Muscat can be a hard sell. Marc Hugel of the Alsace producer that bears the family name says things were once very different. “In the 16th century,” he says, “it was the most popular and best variety.” Why things changed, he can’t say: fashion can be fickle.

How does it work with food?

Fuller-bodied floral whites often demand food, but Muscat works well both at the bar and at the table. Iseris finds the Vina Lauria ‘Solerte’ Zibbibo from Sicily (Zibbibo is the Sicilian name for Muscat of Alexandria) is a perfect match with a dish of heritage tomatoes, goat’s curd, basil leaves and garden shoots. “Just to break tradition and ‘take our revenge’ on Sauvignon Blanc!” he exclaims with glee. In fact, there is plenty of synergy between the two grapes and their natural partners; think asparagus, white fish and fresh herbs like basil and coriander.

So, is it likely to make a comeback?

Hugel says that in Alsace “Muscat was dying out fifty years ago, but it’s coming back.” It’s also gaining traction in Chile, where old vines and new approaches to vinification such as amphorae and skin contact are being combined to impressive effect, such as the De Martino ‘Viejas Tinajas’ Muscat from Itata. But until it’s really owned and cherished by a major wine region, it’s unlikely dry Muscat will ever really become fashionable – it’s just too niche.

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Fashion equivalent: tie dye Little black dress matchability score: 5 Next big thing comeback rating: 2

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Torrontés

Argentina’s signature white grape Torrontés encompasses three varieties: Torrontés Riojano, Torrontés Sanjuanino and Torrontés Mendocino. The first is the most widely planted and considered the finest, but they’re rarely specified on the label. All three are natural field crossings with Muscat of Alexandria and other local varieties, which accounts for its aromatic profile, which tends towards rose, jasmine and citrus.

Torrontés performs ever more strongly at the Sommelier Wines Awards, and although feelings toward the variety among sommeliers is generally positive, it’s held back by a lack of consumer awareness. “It’s not as popular as it could be, says Mazzeo “if we take into account how popular Argentinian wine is. Most consumers still associate Argentina with Malbec, and as a consequence there’s little room left for anything else.”

Although uniformly praised for offering good value, buying with care is advisable as quality can be variable; some are overly oily in texture or lack acidity. Bodegas Colomé makes a superb example, and their export Manager Nicolás Cornejo Costas counters that times are changing. “A new generation of winemakers in the Valley have worked on a more elegant and fine style of Torrontés,” he says. “it’s linked to its floral style but also highlights the citrus, white flowers and peach notes.”

How does it work with food?

Like most floral wines, spice is a happy partner. Costas says that Torrontés has found a place “alongside the native spicy foods from Asia, Mexico, Peru & the Andes and India.” Radosav lists a 2015 Piattelli Vineyards Torrontés from Salta, and recommends “a dish with a light to medium level of sweet spice intensity (cardamom, ginger, nutmeg). In this way you can enjoy the flavours of the food and the wines at the same time…. something like Ajwaini scallops, mooli sabzi and achar.” Fish and shellfish seem to be where Torrontés performs best.

So, is it likely to make a comeback?

Could Argentina do for Torrontés what it’s done for Malbec? “If Argentinian producers manage to promote Argentina as a valuable wine-producing country,” says Mazzeo, “rather than simply associate its name to a single variety, then I see good potential for Torrontés.” Despite its current success with Malbec, it’s unwise for Argentina to keep all its eggs in one basket. If Torrontés producers can concentrate on lowering yields, increasing quality and reigning in the variety’s more extreme textural and aromatic tendencies, I wouldn’t rule it out.

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Fashion equivalent: cowboy boots Little black dress matchability score: 6 Next big thing comeback rating: 6

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First published in Imbibe magazine, but this version is longer.

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#IFTTT #Jorge Miroslav Jara Salas

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feefifophum-blog · 7 years ago

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Post India

The date is 12/29/17, officially 12 days since our flight landed back in Chicago. And holy heck, they’ve been cold. The difference of about 90 degrees in Mumbai v. 2 degrees plus windchill in Chicago, not exactly a pleasant transition. The weather is far from being the only part of India that I miss. The colors, the people, the traffic, the FOOD, and hell, even the smells.

Over the course of 21 days, my classmates have become my friends, my expectations were shattered by the reality of my experiences, and India has become a kind of home. I kept a journal that helped me to document and capture my emotions and details of our trip that I fear I might forget (as my memory is not the greatest).

Our journey starts in Mumbai. Over the course of 14 days here, we were tourists, filmmakers, explorers, and heavy drinkers.

The intention of our journey to India was to learn about Bollywood and how to make documentaries. My group worked closely with VIDYA, an NGO in Powaii, to document their work with computer learning in a slum. We met people like Ankit, a famous LGBTQ activist, and Hakim, a student turned teacher of the CLRC program through our film experience. We danced to traditional Indian dance party music with a room of elementary students and ate home cooked food from a kitchen created to provide women of the slums with a purpose. It was a truly intimidating and intimate look into real people and real struggles. As a Data Scientist, a realm far away from filmmaking, I was exposed to a new way of expressing emotion and life as we know it. Challenges were evident, but not so much an obstacle that it took away from the experience. Bollywood films are an incredible mixture of genre and color and emotion, and I have a whole different level of respect for their production now.

Through Whistling Woods International, the school that we worked through, we practiced yoga, experienced Bollywood dance, listened to lectures from renowned filmmakers and ate the best veg/non-veg thali every damn day for 95 rupees. On the weekends we became Mumbai tourists, a truly great mixture of work & play. We explored mosques, temples, markets, caves, downtown Mumbai and middle-class neighborhoods. We ate, danced, bargained for better prices, drank, created stupid inside jokes, and shielded ourselves from unwanted pictures.

The pictures below represent just a small portion of the overall Mumbai experience. It’s hard to capture emotions in pictures (for a mere computer geek, but others had success).

After two weeks of hot, humid, smoggy Mumbai, we hopped on a train to head to Jaipur - the part two of our greatest tourist adventure. Then a long train ride, destination Agra. Between these two places, we explored architectural masterpieces, Albert Hall, Taj Mahal, Amber Fort, Palace of Winds and so on. We ate at an incredible amount of buffets, which lost their luster quickly as they were very westernized and repetitive.

An experience that is still so clear in my head is getting my tattoo (total impulse move). Across from the Palace of Winds in downtown Jaipur, there is a small tattoo cafe on the roof of a four story building. It is family-owned, run by a very good looking couple, Juhi & Karan, and their children, Levana (8) & Miku (2), who live below the shop. Over the course of 10 hours, we learned an incredible amount about their family from Juhi, the main artist and wife. They were both born and raised in Jaipur and have faced a lot of adversary about their careers to become who they are today. Nothing that I say could ever encapsulate our time spent with the family, but the experience has left an impression on me that I don’t think I could forget.

Below are more pictures of my attempt to capture our experience in Jaipur & Agra.

Then finally, we were on a plane back to Jaipur. A mere 36 hours later, we were on a flight back to Chicago. I remember that last night, we were driving through Mumbai and I stuck my head out the window and soaked in the polluted air, the sounds of honking and people talking, and the sight of traffic and little shops down the streets. It was the perfect ending to a very emotional and eye-opening trip. A teary goodbye for sure but the thought of my return settled the churning sadness to a tolerable amount.

Sure, I am sad and a bit awestruck that the trip came and went so quickly, but I have learned so much about myself that it’s hard to stay gloomy for long. Everyday life in Chicago and the suburbs is a lull compared to India so it has been an adjustment for sure. My first night back, my family went out to dinner and I burst out crying because I was not prepared to the comparatively quiet, organized city life and the return to bland American food.

And the one thing I feared the most has come true. Not fear as in nightmares and Freddy Krueger-esque horror, but the sudden urge to quit university and my internship and modern life itself to travel the world with only my backpack and my bike. Not even 24 hours after we landed in Chicago, I had itinerated a trip to France. As you can tell, I move quickly. My dreams at night consist of slow, detailed plans of how to pack light and getting on buses towards unknown places at a whim. The strong urge to disconnect from reality and become more connected with the world itself is one of the only feelings that has been consistent my whole life.

This is just the beginning of a new era of self-exploration. India was the start, France is the next greatest adventure.

#india #travel #film

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chris-carson · 7 years ago

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How to Survive

We rode into Oakland on a warm day, keeping the windows down all the way across the bridge. Everything there had the feeling of unfinished plywood, so refreshing and new to me after so long in the increasingly refined San Francisco. The buildings in Oakland were low and the skyline opened up a view of hills all the way across town. The air was turning copper. When the car stopped at a red light a bespeckled Chinese man in a chocolate colored suite crossed the street, his fingers pinched a smoldering cigarette. We parked along an empty lot near Lake Merritt. Rachel cut off the car engine and I filled the silence with, “I think I like it here”.

“I think I prefer it,” she said.

My earliest writings were done at the end of high school on loose, frayed pages I’d torn out of single subject notebooks. I’d write stories a couple of pages long before bed. In the morning I’d blush at the pages there on the bedside floor. Whatever it was I had come up with at night would be torn up in the morning and tossed out of my car window on the drive into school. I panicked thinking that anybody would see it. Not because I was embarrassed by what I had written. I was embarrassed that I had the urge to write. For whatever reason I felt it as a kind of weakness.

It wasn't until I moved 3,000 miles from home, to San Francisco, that I could admit I wanted to be a writer at all. I still wouldn’t dare say that I was one. It would be years before I could do that. All I could muster was the strength to hope one day I’d wake up and it would be so. I would be a writer. I moved in with my cousin and his family, to their house on the hill above West Portal station. I got a job working after school care at Clarendon elementary school and sometimes tutoring kids in English composition. I enrolled in classes at City College.

I gave up all attempts at making friends or getting laid after one date. It had ended in disaster when she tickled my stomach and asked if I were a hungry hungry hippo while having coffee at Bagdad Cafe. I was mostly withdrawn anyway, and was happy to carry on a lonesome but observant life in a new city. In the morning I’d go to class. In the afternoon I’d work at Clarendon. In the evening, I’d spend time on West Portal smoking Marb reds and drinking coffee. I’d walk up and down the avenue writing poems in cheap notebooks about kids from St. Brendan’s and their school uniforms or memories of watching my father fold the newspaper. There was no Mission for me then. There was no Dolores Park. There wasn’t even Fisherman’s Wharf. I had West Portal Avenue. I had Chinese food on Taraval. On my most adventurous days there was Ross on Sloat and the Stonestown YMCA. I see that time now as key in shaping my relationship with this city. Through my cousin and his family I was introduced to San Francisco as a city of neighborhoods, schools and children, only different from the small town that I grew up in, in size. I saw San Francisco as a place that had existed long before I arrived. I was quickly aware that to survive here I had to join an already thriving community, not remake one for myself. Watching my little cousins grow up here, and watching the place change so quickly, I wonder how they will survive here. It’s like they are being made strangers to their own home before they get a chance to lay proper claim to the place.

When I got here I didn't have the first idea on how to make the transition from regular 20-year-old to writer. I set out doing two things as often as possible. The first was write down anything that came into my head. I just had to get it down, develop the muscle that connected my eyes and my brain to my arm and my hand. The second was read great writing. I was lucky to have enrolled in Loren Bell’s short story class at City College that met once a week for three or four hours at James Lick Middle School. The class required one book. It was an enormous collection of short stories that I bought used nearly to death from the City College Book Store on a foggy day, and immediately began reading.

The book introduced me to a whole written universe that I didn't know existed. It introduced me to the work of writers I only knew in name. There was Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants,” Chekhov’s “The Lady With The Dog,” countless stories that I still consider some of the best written. And of course there was John Steinbeck’s “The Chrysanthemums.”

Reading “The Chrysanthemums” now, I can't remember what it was that captivated me about it then. To put it simply, I’ll say it was the way Steinbeck could say so much without saying it at all. The way Steinbeck could create these details of the Salinas Valley that were simultaneously details of his character’s inner life. I was spellbound by his language. I tried recreating it in a story based on a dream I had. The story was about a couple of drunk teenagers escaping a house party, but crashing their car into a convenient store and dying under the desperate hands of firefighters. But it was really about homesickness.

I brought copies to class for peer review. What I remember about my group was this old man, about 70, with a scratchy gray beard and a tan golf jacket zipped to the chin. His body sat curled in his desk and had told me, out of the corner of his mouth, that he came from Rochester and was reading a biography on George Eastman. And I also remember that he didn't like my story. Nobody liked my story. Nobody should have. The story was bad. Young men gripped by sexual frustration should not write short stories. While I thought I was being brutally honest, honesty and the intensity of the feeling that sparked the story does not have anything to do with the story’s quality, or anything to do with good writing. If I really wanted to be a writer I would need to get used to criticism. I was happy to take deserved lashes for faults in my prose. Each one was deserved. I would have liked to have given some myself, but nobody else in the group brought in anything to read.

I’ve been living in San Francisco for six years now, always with help. Be it my cousin and his wife, my mother and father, friends, girlfriends; I’ve some how been blessed with a life full of giving people who believe in me as a writer, and as a man. It has made all the difference. I wouldn’t have been able to survive a day here without each one of them.

KEEPEYES, the magazine I co-founded and edit recently turned a year old. It has enabled me to take the risk of publishing my own opinions and allowed me the joy of publishing work by other incredible writers and artists surviving in this city. Each issue is better than the last and each issue leaves me slightly speechless because I’m doing something that for a long time I didn't believe was possible.

Unlike many of my peers, I didn't come to the arts until recently. For most of my life I considered myself an athlete in the strict sense of the word. A jock. A basketball player. I started playing around first or second grade after watching my older brothers play, and eventually I became good enough to play on a nationally ranked and shoe sponsored travel team through high school. I was recruited by a few colleges and went off to my freshman year to play D3 ball in Oneonta, New York and study English Literature. I wanted to become a high school teacher and basketball coach.

That goal was the best I could do to remedy the split that I was beginning to feel in my personality. I had started smoking a lot of weed and reading the Beats and Albert Camus. I began to see teaching great writing to teenagers as something like death, hoping instead for the feeling of midnight sidewalks, drunk and lonesome, living the life that makes great writing. I couldn't see these two sides of myself existing together. I quit college basketball and moved to San Francisco. I took to the tortured writer romance hard and foolishly. I was a heavy smoker, a heavy drinker, and a really bad writer.

Now though, I see that basketball was an important piece in any development I’ve made as a writer since then, if I’ve made any development. My earliest and most profound memories all seem to have come with a ball in my hand, not a bottle. With my feet bouncing off concrete, not stuck to a bar room floor.

I remember my father’s house. It rests at the end of a long, pocked driveway behind a toy factory, and between a horse pasture and Dionondahowa Falls spilling out of the Battenkill, in Middle Falls, New York. The house is back far enough in the woods that surviving there sometimes meant battling the elements. So come spring, precarious trees or branches would be felled if it looked like they couldn't make another heavy winter. Come summer there were other battles. The cat had a run in with a hawk that we think tried to carry her away, while I had my own battles to fight.

One summer I was outside, working on pullup jump shots. A pestering chipmunk kept scurrying over the black top my father had pored over the gravel driveway, a gift to my brothers and I so we could play basketball without jagged pebbles. I was startled every time the chipmunk made a run in one direction or the other. I never liked the creatures that lived back there with us. I went inside and got the BB rifle we bought at the Greenwich Plaza Kmart. Ten pumps of the lever could shoot a copperhead BB the length of a football field. But I must have cocked it enough to travel ten.

When the chipmunk stopped below the hoop to nibble on something that had fallen from the tree I shot it in the head. It’s small body flipped in the air as easily as the Pepsi cans I had practiced on. I went back inside feeling like I’d put my tongue in an electric socket, and into the bathroom. My body couldn’t cut the shaking while I did my best not to let on to anyone I was crying by letting them hear me choking on sobs. I hid the rifle from myself, but I didn't get back out to play basketball for the rest of the day, making the chipmunks murder pointless. When I finally did make it out there the body was gone, carried off by the cat I figured, or something else from the wood and, in all likelihood, eaten.

I’m like a mother in that I save every scrap of paper that is in anyway related to a friend of mine and the work they are doing. I keep them all stuffed in a biblical sketchbook I use for my journal. I’ve been planning to tape the scraps into it, but haven’t found the time. It’s good to see the collection grow as I see my friends become more and more productive. At night, when I open the journal to write before falling asleep, a flood of paper scraps, flyers, and business cards leak from the bottom end of the journal all over my lap.

Most of these scraps can be attributed to one artist in particular, Rachel Simon Marino. As editor of KEEPEYES magazine, I’m always pestering the team to describe exactly how they plan on accomplishing something or another. When it comes to Rachel though, all she has to say is trust me, and I do. The cover she did for KEEPEYES #5, in my opinion, hands down, the best thing the magazine has done in its one year of existence. It is a vivid, dynamic, surrealistic painting of incredible proficiency, executed with a level of skill and craft beyond that of any other artist I know, working in any medium. But it is also the most striking and accurate statement made describing the magazine, and explaining its reason for being. There is something to be found in everything, be it noises on the street, neon in the Tenderloin, or a three legged pig dancing in blue loafers. Rachel summed it up perfectly.

She draws or writes on everything. At her house, the skin on all the fruit is tattooed like my arm with various phrases with no context. Phrases like take two and call me in the morning or my name ain't Peter. Not those phrases exactly, but like them. When I asked her once why she does it, she said, have you ever tried writing on the counter? The ink comes right off. She’s even written on money. I keep a dollar bill in my journal that she colored in and scribbled on with black sharpie because, in a weird way, it represents some great memories for me.

On the Washington side, Rachel colored his face in, except for the eyes, and she didn't color in the mouth completely, instead she enhanced it with full and pouty lips. A small square shows on his neck like he is wearing a priests collar. She did it one night when her and I, and our other good friend Chris Moore were sitting around my girlfriends dining room table. On the other side she wrote Return to C.Moore Please. Reward. (Needs it back for glasses)- but she crossed out glasses and wrote above it, soup.

Chris had lost his glasses not long before this particular night. He had lost them on the Bay Bridge, as we rode back to San Francisco in Rachel’s volkswagen from Oakland. The car was full of people. I was sitting in the front seat, Chris in the seat behind me. I turned to look back at the Bay Bridge’s passing suspenders aglow with LED lights. Driving west and looking east the lights seem to collapse into each other one stripe at a time, until they build into a wall of light, and the whole project comes into view just outside the car window.

I told Chris to look at it too. And he did. But for whatever reason, he put his window down and stuck his head out as the car zoomed along across the open expanse of bridge hanging above the bay. When he pulled his head back in, his glasses were gone, ripped from his face by the force of wind and the car’s speed. All he said was fuck.

For a few moments nobody said anything. I looked at Rachel driving, and saw her lips struggling to suppress a smile, and could feel my chest heaving with the desire to laugh. Why would he stick his head out of the window like that when he wears glasses? When I saw him do it, I remember having a brief moment of voicelessness when I thought I should tell him not to, but I didn't because I figured, the man has worn glasses for years. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. None of that mattered. The glasses were gone. There was no chance of them coming back. Finally, we all laughed. We laughed about it for the rest of the ride. And we laughed about it again when Rachel documented it on the dollar bill.

And I’m laughing about now. Hopefully I wrote the story well enough and you are laughing about it too. If not, that’s ok. This piece is not meant to be funny. It is meant to give my opinions on how artists can survive in this cold money city. Finally, I think I found the answer that I wanted to give all along but didn't realize until now. It’s not even my idea. It’s printed on the cover of a book I bought one night on 16th street at the party that opened my eyes to the energy and passion to create amongst the cities young and hopeless.

The book was made by Xara Thustra, and on the front it says “Friendship between artists is an equation of love and survival.” I survive in this city only by the support and love from my friends, who inspire and give a damn about me.

This essay was published in the chap book Artist Survival Guide, published by Adobe Books, in collaboration with the San Francisco Arts Commision in 2014. The Artist Survival Guide was a collection of art and writing examining the effects of gentrification on the city’s artists communities and how they were reacting to it.

Press Release

#Essays #2014 #Adobe Books #Adobe Books Artist Survival Guide

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