#also his middle name is walter apparently. nerd

[speedy-beans]

hello criminal minds fandom.

[amillionsmiles]

get myself together, spend you all of my money (Ellie/Aster)

Title: get myself together, spend you all of my money Summary: “You’d think going to college out of town would have knocked us both down a peg, but instead we ended up pretty pretentious.” / or: Ellie, Aster, and an apartment full of things. A/N: written while listening to Mitski’s cover of “Let’s Get Married” on loop.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

*

Ellie finds Aster Flores again on a Sunday.

So far, the NYC Sublets & Apartments Facebook group has yielded more duds than leads, but she scrolls down and suddenly, there: a corner of Squahamish, waving at her from the screen.

LOOKING FOR: Room to rent, ideally available by August. Recently graduated from art school, so that gives you a sense of my budget, but I’m tidy, respectful, and play well with cats. Any PMs with leads appreciated!  

The profile picture isn’t anything new; Ellie’s pretty sure she scrolled past it and liked it a few weeks ago during the influx of everyone’s graduation photo updates. Aster’s looking over her shoulder at the camera, the quiet joke that always seemed to hide in her eyes in high school now more pronounced. It’s a good picture, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, and that’s the only reason her heartrate picks up when she hovers over Aster’s name to click Message.

She takes a swig from her iced cappuccino and starts to type.

Hey! Long time, less conversation. Haven’t been to church in a minute, but I remember there being a Bible verse saying something about “two are better than one,” and I’m pretty sure that also applies to apartment-hunting. If that seems like something you’d be interested in, let me know.  

Before she can think twice about it, she hits enter.

*

They move in together in July, when the summer heat turns the air liquid and the acrid smell of molten trash bags wafts from the street. For a second, Ellie misses the Pacific Northwest: the greenish tint of light filtered through leaves, the way she could disappear to a nearby watering hole for respite. Even the mudding that Trig and his friends did now seems appealing—on the stairwell, she fantasizes about the cool shock of it against her skin.

“Hey, Ellie?”

Ellie turns from where she’s been sitting on the top step to see that Aster’s finally gotten the door open. Rocking to her feet, she pushes the cardboard box across the floor, stepping inside to get a look at where they’ll be living for the next year.

The first room is spacious, combining a kitchen area with what can become a living room, once they buy a couch. Trailing her fingers along the wall, Ellie wanders into the other bedroom, then tests the lights in the bathroom. She comes back to find Aster eyeing the ceiling, a hammer pulled from her belongings.

“What are you doing?”

“Here.” Aster beckons her closer. “I’m thinking that this space is big enough that if we hang a curtain, part of it can be my room.”

“Oh.” Ellie hadn’t put much thought into it when they’d signed the lease, assuming they’d share the back room, like a college one-room double situation. It seems naïve, now; they’re adults, of course Aster would want her own space. “It doesn’t have to be yours, though. I mean—we can flip a coin or something, to make it fairer.”

Aster shrugs. “I don’t mind. Besides, the back room is more muffled—I’m less likely to hear you clacking your typewriter this way.” She smiles, the two of them both glancing to where Ellie’s Smith Corona peeks out from its bubble wrap packaging, the pale blue paint gleaming in the sunlight.

“It was my mom’s,” Ellie explains, her own memory fond against her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I always wanted to hear more about her, after that time at the spring.”

“She was fun.” The words take her back to Ping-Pong, Paul’s paddle thwacking the ball against the wall.

“As fun as you are?”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Am I fun?”

Aster pushes a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear. Overhead, the air conditioning hums.

“Guess we have plenty of time to find out, heathen.”

*

“Saw is not the greatest horror movie of our generation.”

“It is!” protests Aster, sitting next to her on the couch. Waxy cartons from the Georgian restaurant Aster waitresses at litter the table, and Ellie licks her fingers clean of the buttery residue from the kubdari—mm, delicious—as she leans back, waiting for Aster to continue.

“Ignore the sequels. But on its own, it’s this brilliant little clockwork machine of the lengths people will go to when they think they’ve got no time left. And the reveal at the end? I heard you gasp.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but a lot of the rest of it feels like torture porn.”

Aster rolls her eyes. “No one watches a horror movie for the butterflies.”

“Except you, apparently,” Ellie points out, because this is a thing they do as roommates, now: watch movies and then discuss them over takeout. So far, they’ve tended toward foreign cinema, art-house, and horror. The last genre is the one Aster engages with most fervently. However, Ellie has started to suspect that Aster can turn nearly anything into a debate, perhaps a side effect of all the time she spent wrestling with God in her head during sermons.

“Whatever. I just don’t think you’re giving it the credit it deserves for how well it feeds on the psyches of all the characters.”

“Cupid and Psyche,” Ellie thinks aloud. “Now there’s a story we could talk about.”

Crinkling her nose, Aster says, “We get it, you read literature.”

“So do you,” says Ellie, nudging her foot. “You’re just as big a nerd as I am.”

At that, Aster laughs, tilting her head back. It makes the column of her throat into the soft marble of a Canova statue.

“You’d think going to college out of town would have knocked us both down a peg, but instead we ended up pretty pretentious.”

Looking around their apartment, Ellie has to agree. There are too many stacks of books lying around, various papers jutting out of them as placeholders so she can flip to the passages she needs when writing essays. Aster keeps bringing back abstract art prints from the showcases she attends. In the corner, there’s a ficus that Ellie took home from work out of guilt (she’d been the only one in the office watering it) which they’ve named Walter Benjamin.

“I kind of like it, though.”

Aster turns to her, cheek pressing against the fabric of the couch. Her gaze is a paperweight: glassy and clear and heavy with something Ellie can’t quite name. “I’m not complaining, either.”

*

Before college, Ellie had considered herself a morning person, simply because she had no reason to be otherwise. Waking up to signal the trains each morning became part of her biorhythm, as natural and unremarkable as her middle part or her thermal underwear. At Grinnell, though, she’d discovered the guilty joy of sleeping in. The downside has been that her body now relies on coffee to function before 10 AM on the weekends.

“Don’t drink that,” says Aster, whisking the tin away from Ellie’s grasp. “I’ve been using it to wash off my brushes.”

Groggily, Ellie leans against the counter, watching Aster bend over the canvas on the kitchen table. She must have been at it for a while—a good third of it is filled in, streaked with purples and browns. After dabbing at a corner, Aster blows a strand of hair out of her face and straightens, reaching to adjust her messy bun.

Ellie squints. “Have you always had that?”

Pausing, Aster feels along the shaved part of her hair, tracing the chevron indented in it. “The undercut? Yeah. A girlfriend did it for me senior year, before we went our separate ways.”

A spike akin to a dose of caffeine shoots through Ellie. She stands a bit taller. “A girlfriend like a girl…?” she trails off, clearing her throat. “Or. A friend.”

The corner of Aster’s mouth twitches. “The first one.”

“Oh. Um.” Ellie swallows. “That’s nice.”

Aster picks up another paintbrush, twirling it between her fingers before deciding against it and setting it back down. When she meets Ellie’s eyes again, the look behind them is bare, vulnerable.

“I haven’t told my parents, though.”

“Is that why you don’t go back to Squahamish?”

Aster’s lips part slightly. “You noticed?”

“The first summer, yeah,” Ellie admits. “After that, I wasn’t around much either. Internships and stuff, you know.”

“And relationships?”

“Some of those, too.”

“Did you seduce all of them wearing flannel?” Aster asks, nodding to the oversized checkered shirt Ellie favors as pajamas. For a second, Ellie just gapes, taken aback by being so thoroughly called out.

“You’re the one with an undercut. Don’t talk to me about queer signaling.”

Aster laughs. It suddenly becomes very important that Ellie turn around and start the coffee machine, right now.

“I like seeing you with your hair down, though,” comes Aster’s voice, drifting over the sound of water straining into a pot.

*

“—And then I thought, what if it’s a temperature thing?” finishes Paul, his face ruddy and proud through the screen. Sensing an opening, Ellie stops worrying the inside of her mouth.  

“Did you know Aster likes girls? Like, officially?” Almost immediately, she cringes from how juvenile her delivery makes her sound.

Paul doesn’t so much as twitch. “Uh, yeah. It’s come up once or twice.”

“Wait, she’s talked about it with you?” Ellie sits up on her mattress. Since when were Paul and Aster confidantes?

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t say anything, it’s just I read all this stuff about not outing people before they were ready, and I figured if it was important enough to her she’d let you know eventually. Uh, Ellie, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Blinking rapidly, Ellie fights the surge of affection threatening to overtake her. Stupid Paul, making her stupidly proud to have him as a best friend.

“Do you—er. Do you think you might like her?”

“Oh, god, no. And I mean it for real this time,” she says, meeting Paul’s skeptical look. Part of it is pride—it seems like character regression, to return to the source of her teenage fantasies when she’s learned so much about herself since then. “It’s just nice to have a friend who gets both parts of it, you know? The being queer and being from Squahamish.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, do you guys want a batch of these sausages when I finish tinkering with the recipe? It takes two days to ship cross-country, I checked.”

Ellie laughs. “Yeah, Munsky, send them our way.”  

*

Ellie wets the edges of the dough tucked in her palm, working from the outside in as she crimps the dumpling and places it on a plate. Across from her, Aster works with similar dexterity, a pink sliver of tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration.

“You’re good at this.”

Aster sets aside another dumpling, using two fingers to scoop a mound of dough from the bowl between them. “Yeah, I helped my mom a lot with her empanadas, growing up.”

“Say you had kids,” Ellie starts. “What’s one thing you’d teach them, before they turned thirteen?”

Aster considers. “Long division. Except I’d have to get someone else to teach them, because I’m terrible at math.”

“Really?”

“Really. Do you ever think about how smart people have been, to invent the concept of infinity and the concept of zero?”

“Mm. And where would you put the idea of God on that scale?”

“Like, a solid fifty,” says Aster, flicking water at her face.

*

In November, Ellie publishes a short story in the New Yorker, which Aster crows about for a solid week.

“Aster, oh my god, you’re being embarrassing,” she says upon walking into the kitchen and finding her story printed in full, each sheet pinned to the refrigerator door with a bright red magnet.

“You should be proud,” Aster insists.

Paul calls her to discuss it. “Me and your dad read it. I thought it was really good. Are you working on more stuff?”

“Slow your roll, Munsky.” Ellie laughs. “I’m not as prolific as you are, dreaming up new sausage combinations every day.”

Off-camera, the staticky sound of a TV and a faint Ellie? sounds.

“Here, Mr. Chu.” Paul passes the phone to her dad, who is wrapped in his usual robe. The lines by his eyes relax when he sees her face.

“How are you?” she asks in Mandarin. “Are you keeping warm?”

“You should be worried about yourself—it’s colder where you are,” her dad replies. “Paul’s good about keeping me company. He read your piece to me three times. The scene with the swing set, and the little girl…” He switches to English. “Best part. Your mom would be proud.”

“Thanks, Ba,” says Ellie, voice thick. She goes to bed that night and dreams of being sandwiched between her mom and dad, dancing in the living room.

*

She and Aster host a small get-together in December. They put a Santa hat on Walter Benjamin and get everyone drunk on mulled wine until the party devolves into a caroling session, Aster’s friend James competing with Ellie’s friend Larissa to see who can belt “O Holy Night” louder. Afterwards, she and Aster sprawl on Aster’s mattress, limbs loosened from a successful night. The string lights Aster wound through the curtains as decoration for the party flicker, casting the room a soft gold.

“Would you ever get a tattoo?” Ellie asks. It’s been on her mind ever since she noticed the olive branch inked above Larissa’s collarbone. She’s wary of the pain, though.

Beside her, Aster shifts, arm pressing against hers. “I have one, actually.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah.” She props herself up on an elbow, pulling her shirt up to reveal a cluster of flowers just below her rib.

Tracing the lines with her eyes, Ellie asks, “What kind of flowers are they?”

“Asters.”

“You’re joking.”

Aster looks straight back at her. “I’m 100% serious.”

“Isn’t that a bit too on the nose?” Ellie studies the tattoo again and then snorts, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.” The wine must still be in her system, because the fuzziness of a laugh flushes through her body.

“What?” Aster seems miffed. “Ellie, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I’m just— You were so reserved before, and now you’ve got an undercut and a tattoo and. Do you remember— there was that day when Jenny Newman brought in that pink scarf and you all walked down the hallway like something out of a Clique movie, it was ridiculous. I can’t believe I had a crush on you. Oh my god.”

“Stop.” Aster shoves her shoulder, but she’s laughing, too. “Don’t remind me. God. God! What a terrible color, it didn’t match my outfit at all.”

“But it’s okay, because now you’re Aster Flores, hardcore.”

“Well, what about you, Ellie Chu?”

“What what about me?”

Aster sits up. “You’re walking into a tattoo parlor right now. What do you decide to get, and where?”

“Persimmons,” Ellie says, before even fully conceiving the thought. “On my… right shoulder.”

“All right.” Aster gets up and feels around her desk; the next thing Ellie knows, she’s kneeling before her on the mattress, a fine-tipped pen in hand. “I’ll draw it for you.”

“Okay.” Slowly, Ellie sits up, tugging the collar of her shirt down as far as it’ll go to expose the skin needed for Aster’s canvas. The first touch tickles; she tries to hold herself as still as possible while Aster draws, ink flowing in thin lines. She considers watching the process, but it makes her go cross-eyed and dizzy, so she closes her eyes instead and feels: the smoothness of a persimmon skin, the shine of their texture, the sweet crunch of a fruit just barely ripened.

“Done,” Aster whispers, and Ellie leans closer to catch it. It feels like they’re in a confessional booth. Aster caps the pen and bites her lip, but she doesn’t move away.

“Ellie—” Her breath smells of cinnamon and cloves. Like the sharpest part of the forest, like all things good and lovely and too fragile to want.

“I should go to bed,” Ellie says, and it takes every ounce of strength she has to extract herself, to stumble back to her room and sit against the closed door, shaking.

*

“Ellie? Ellie, pick up the phone. It’s about your dad. It’s not—super critical, or anything, but I still think—uh. Just… call me back as soon as you can.”

*

Her carry-on is by the door and she’s set to leave for the airport in an hour. When Aster finds her, she’s cutting and skinning apples in the kitchen—not even to eat, just to have something to do with her hands.

Silently, Aster pulls out some bread, cream cheese, and salmon. When she’s done with the sandwich, she slips it into a plastic bag and holds it out to Ellie.

“For the plane ride.”

“Thanks.” Ellie sets down the knife and goes to put the sandwich away in her backpack. She zips it up.

“Would you come with me, if I asked?”

By the sink, Aster is quiet. Ellie thinks of that awful moment in the ping pong room, when she’d thought Paul had caught on to her.

“You know what, never mind.”

“If I go with you, I’m going to want to be with you.” Aster looks down at her hands as she says it; it’s the first time she’s seemed uncertain in a while. Ellie soaks in the confession, turning it over in her head. It’s brave. It’s honest.

It’s not enough.

“I just.” Aster shrugs, helpless. “I’m not ready for that conversation, yet. With them. For the fallout of what the worst could be.”

Pick me, her heart throbs, selfishly. Pick me pick me pickme. She is a train leaving the station, hoping for someone to catch her. But no time to wait; her dad needs her.

“Take care, Aster,” she says, shrugging her backpack over her shoulder. Aster’s face crumples like snow. Ellie tries not to look back.

*

The hospital discharges her dad after a week. Ellie stays for another two, making sure his cough is gone and all the mucus has loosened from his chest. When he regains enough energy to start fighting back against her fussing, she recruits Paul to make sure he drinks enough fluids every day.

“Pneumonia,” she scolds at the doorway, shaking her head. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

“Ch,” her dad says. “You want to talk about scared? How about that time when you were seven and fell off the monkey bars? Nearly cracked your head open.”

Paul looks between them, bewildered. “Okay, Mr. Chu, I’ve gotta get Ellie to the airport. There’s still ice on the roads so driving will be slower than usual.”

In the car, Ellie holds her hands to the heat, touching the pads of her fingertips to each other.

“Do you like it better out east?”

Ellie tilts her head. “City life is different, that’s for sure. It feels freer and lonelier. Not as many people paying attention to you, so you can be anything you want to be. But also: not as many people paying attention to you.”

“Hm, I get that. Like being at my house versus being at yours.”

“You’re saying that the Munskys are New York City and me and my dad are Squahamish?”

“Never mind. I guess my house has all the people New York has, but they’re all jumping down your throat instead of passing you by.”

Ellie laughs. “You love it, though.”

Across the dash, Paul smiles at her. “Yeah, I do.”

“You wouldn’t consider the Midwest? It’d be a happy medium.”

“I did like Iowa, when I visited you.”

“Chicago, then,” Ellie proposes. “In five years. People there buy lots of hot dogs—it’d be good business.”

“I’ll think about it,” Paul promises, pulling up to the curb. He gets out to help with her suitcase, wrapping her in a warm hug. Ellie buries her nose into the center of his chest and inhales. She wonders if it's possible to absorb his courage through her lungs.

“Paul?” she asks, when he starts to pull away. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyes are bright with concern. “Of course.”

“If you loved someone, and they loved you back in the same way, but they said you couldn’t be together, what would you do?”

“Well, I’d ask myself: when I picture being with that person, what does it really look like? Is it okay if the image doesn’t exactly match up? Because then I’d hold on.”

“Never Let Me Go.”

“What?”

“It’s another Kazuo Ishiguro book,” says Ellie, smiling. “You should read it if you get the time.”

“All right, boss,” says Paul, mock-saluting her. “Now go catch your flight.”

*

It’s past midnight when she gets back to the apartment, careful not to make too much noise as she slips past Aster’s room and into her bed. Her head is about to hit the pillow when her phone screen lights up, casting her as a glaring shadow against the bedroom wall.

Aster: Hey, heard you come in. Is your dad okay?

Yeah. I sentenced him to house arrest for the month, with Paul as guard dog.

Aster: All right, Foucault. Discipline & Punish. Aster: I’m glad he’s better, though.

Thanks. Did you miss me much?

Aster: Well, I realized that the cookies disappear at a much slower rate when you’re not around. :P

It’s strange to be talking like this when they’re separated by only a hallway, when for the past six months they’ve seen each other face-to-face every day. And yet, in some ways it’s easier: the crackle of electricity, the dots appearing, then fading, then appearing again.

Aster: Can you come into the hall? Aster: There’s something I want to say.

Ellie sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Gently, she cracks open the door to see Aster leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom. Her hair is tangled. She looks beautiful.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sliding down to the floor, Aster gestures to the spot opposite her. “Sit.”

Dutifully, Ellie obeys, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them. The hallway is so narrow that her toes end up tucked under Aster’s legs, crisscrossed in front of her.

“I’ve been thinking about what I said to you right before you left,” says Aster. “And I did some more thinking while I was here alone. And the thing is, I don’t want to be all or nothing with you. I want us to be—something. And I’m wondering if you could be okay with that. If we could take it little by little, and just figure it out as it comes. If you’re willing to wait.”

“Yeah.” Ellie swallows. “We can do that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Nodding, Ellie starts to rise, but Aster gets a determined look in her eyes and suddenly she’s swooping forward, the scent of her hair—vanilla and violets—swinging around them, her hand cupping Ellie’s cheek and her mouth a bright star against Ellie’s, striking deep as a hymn into her bones. Ellie counts to five before opening her eyes, and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse.

“I thought you wanted me to wait.”

“Guess I’m bad at following my own rules,” Aster says, and grins.

[the-end-of-art]

A negative peace

Asian American Complicity in Racism by Larry Lin at Reformed Margins

I moved to Baltimore in August 2013. Prior to that time, I was pretty ignorant of the African American experience. I had read Uncle Tom’s Cabin in school, and I remember that making a strong impression on me. I was also a bit of a history nerd, so I had read up a little bit on the slave trade, Reconstruction, and Jim Crow.

But I don’t think I ever had a substantial conversation with someone who was black about race before.

Within a few months of moving to Baltimore (which is a majority-black city), I became friends with a guy named Mani. Mani was an African American born and raised in Baltimore, and we would hang out to talk about faith and make music. The first time I went over to his apartment, I remember noticing three things.

The first was a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. The second was a picture of Malcolm X. And the third was a bag of Skittles and a soda can on the coffee table.

Every time I would go over, I would always notice those three things. Perhaps the third or fourth time at his place, I asked Mani why he always had snacks on the coffee table. He replied with a voice of resolve, “That’s what Trayvon Martin was holding when he was shot.”

When I heard that, my first thought was, “Travyon Martin… that name sounds familiar. When I get home, I need to look that name up.” Of course, I was too embarrassed to say that out loud. I didn’t want Mani to know that I was so ignorant. But right then and there, I realized that there was a vast difference between my experience as an Asian American and Mani’s experience as an African American.

So over the next several years, as I got to know Mani more, I decided to read up on what it was like to be black in America today. I explored the criminal justice system, the prison system, police violence, infant mortality, social mobility, wealth distribution, college enrollment, etc., and I slowly became more and more aware of the structural disadvantages that continually plague African Americans in our country. Additionally, the more I learned, the more shocked I was at how ignorant I was before.

Meanwhile, I watched with the rest of the world as the lives of Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, Botham Jean, Atatiana Jefferson, and Ahmaud Arbery were taken away.

This week, yet another life was taken away: George Floyd. I watched the video of the incident on Tuesday, and once again I was horrified to see another death of a black human being.

But with this video, there was something else that disturbed me too. While the white officer was pinning down Floyd’s neck with his knee, an Asian officer was standing by in silence, and even at times preventing protestors from intervening.

To me, it was the perfect representation of Asian American complicity in racism.

I acknowledge that there have been Asian Americans throughout history who have fought alongside their African American neighbors against racism. However, they have been far outnumbered by Asian Americans who have chosen to be ignorant at best or complicit at worst in their racism.

There are many complex historical and cultural reasons for this Asian American status quo, and it would take forever to address them all. We can talk about the fact that many Asians value harmony and sacrifice, even at the expense of integrity and justice. We can talk about the fact that many Asian immigrants come from countries where there are dictators, and where political advocacy results in imprisonment or death.

But the fact remains: too often, Asian Americans have chosen to side with the white racist over the black victim.

Much of the national conversation on race has focused on the relationship between whites and blacks. As a result, Asians are often found in the messy middle. However, most Asians don’t want to be in the middle. Even though we have also experienced a long history of racial discrimination at the hands of our white neighbors, many of us still see assimilation into white culture as our path to fulfilling the American dream. And so we work hard, we study hard, we don’t ruffle any feathers, and we continue to live up to our status of the model minority (which has been granted to us largely at the expense of African Americans).

We Asian Americans might not say it out loud, but many of us have internalized a racist, reductionist history. We believe that the way to success is to work hard, and we pride ourselves in having done just that. We came to this country with nothing, speaking a foreign language, and we worked hard, saved money, and we achieved the American dream. And so when we look at the status of African Americans, we dismissively assume that they didn’t work as hard as we did, and we just conclude that only they are to blame.

Unfortunately, this narrative has driven Asian Americans to be at political and social odds with African Americans. This division is most apparent in conversations about affirmative action, which has become the defining political issue for many Asian Americans. In many universities, Asian Americans are overrepresented in college admissions while African Americans are underrepresented, so affirmative action works against Asian Americans but for African Americans.

This political division is highlighted in events like the LA Riots, in which predominantly African American rioters caused significant damage in predominantly Asian-American-owned stores, and the shooting of Akai Gurley, in which an Asian American police officer accidentally shot and killed an African American.

However, this narrative is a very incomplete picture. What many Asian Americans fail to realize is that our success is largely built on the backs of African Americans themselves. After all, if African American slavery did not exist, the United States may not have been such a desirable country to immigrate to. It was through the enslavement of African Americans that American prosperity was built in the first place. Additionally, if it wasn’t for the generations of African Americans fighting for their rights before most of us ever arrived, it is possible that Asian Americans would not have been as easily accepted here as well. In many ways, African Americans laid the path for other ethnic minorities to come to America too.

The reality is that we Asian Americans have unknowingly reaped from the sufferings of our fellow African Americans. The least we can do is stand with them as they continue to suffer.

Perhaps some of us, like my former self, are willing to admit that we are uninformed or uneducated about the African American experience, but we argue that that doesn’t make us complicit in racism. We are not actually killing anybody, we might say. However, sometimes it is precisely the inaction of the bystanders that perpetuates societal racism.

Martin Luther King, Jr. once wrote in his Letter from Birmingham Jail,

…I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

Here King describes “the white moderate” of his day—those of “shallow understanding” who are “more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice,” who prefer a “negative peace” over “the presence of justice.” What an apt description of so many Asian Americans today.

A similar sentiment is expressed in James 2:1-7,

My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For if a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, “You sit here in a good place,” while you say to the poor man, “You stand over there,” or, “Sit down at my feet,” have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor man. Are not the rich the ones who oppress you, and the ones who drag you into court? Are they not the ones who blaspheme the honorable name by which you were called?

“We are not actively harming the poor,” we may say, but doesn’t our partiality for the rich perpetuate the inequality between the rich and the poor?

I believe the same principle can be applied to race. Many Asian Americans have shown partiality by honoring their white neighbors while dishonoring their black neighbors. Doesn’t our partiality for those who are white perpetuate the inequality between whites and blacks?

I confess that I, like the Asian American officer at the scene of George Floyd’s death, have been a part of the problem. For much of my life, I was complicit in my racism toward African Americans, and I was completely oblivious to that racism. I was more devoted to order than to justice. I sought to honor the powerful, not realizing that doing so was dishonoring the powerless. But that is not the biblical way. James writes, “Are not the rich the ones who oppress you, and the ones who drag you into court?” I would also add, “Are not the people who are racist against African Americans also racist against Asian Americans as well?”

I don’t want to be ignorant anymore. I don’t want to be silent anymore. I don’t want to be complicit anymore.

Fellow Asian Americans, let’s stop defending the racism in our culture. Let’s stand in solidarity with our African American neighbors.

(https://reformedmargins.com/asian-american-complicity-in-racism/)

[daleisgreat]

Fast & Furious

I did not mean for nearly a year and a half to pass since my last entry covering the Fast and Furious franchise. I apologize for keeping everyone waiting for today’s much anticipated blog covering the fourth film in the franchise, 2009’s Fast & Furious (trailer). I recalled seeing the initial previews for this and remembered being excited about Universal reuniting the four core original cast members, but also thought that it might have been too late because it seemed like at this point both Paul Walker and Vin Diesel’s careers were well into their decline and this was their last gasp for success. As we all know by now, F&F revitalized the franchise and transitioned the films from the underground street racing/car culture series into the blockbuster action/heist movies we embrace them as today. As I alluded to in my Tokyo Drift review, F&F is where the timeline for the series goes sideways. Director Justin Lin stated in the commentary that even though Han was killed off in Tokyo Drift, he wanted to bring him back since he was a fun character so Lin has F&F take place before Tokyo Drift. Sure enough, Han is here, but only in the opening scene riding with Dom (Vin Diesel) and his crew on their latest rig heist which involves a semi with five(!) gas tanker attachments on a stretch of highway that is well over the one kilometer they proclaim (though later films will greatly outdo this exaggeration). The tanker heist goes sideways and leads to Dom abandoning Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) and retreating to Panama. After some time passes Dom finds out Letty was murdered, and he comes back to Cali and reunites with his sister Mia (Jordana Brewster) and FBI agent Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker) to track down the Braga gang responsible for Letty’s murder.

I remember the scene introducing O’Conner chasing down a thug for information on his latest target in a high adrenaline foot chase that seemed ripped right out of a Bourne film. Apparently O’Conner has lethal Parkour abilities now that would multiply exponentially in his 2014 film, Brick Mansions. After eight years it was fun seeing O’Conner, Dom and Mia all reunite and within no time their chemistry was clicking with a plethora of callbacks to the first film. Yes, Dom still loves ‘family’ and crosses and O’Conner still loves NOS. I mentioned in the intro F&F transitions the series from its underground street racing roots into the action/heist genre because the film is about half and half of each. There is a big street race in the middle of the film Dom & O’Conner participate in order to win an open slot in Braga. Lin stated in the commentary GPS tech was a couple years into ubiquity and wanted to different this race by implementing plenty of snazzy GPS CG effects throughout the race. Lin unapologetically went all in with the GPS effects here and while over-the-top, they enhance this race and make it stand out as one of the marquee races in the whole Fast and Furious franchise.

I recall Gal Gadot’s character, Gisele being more prominent in the later films, and completely forgot about her being a support character in F&F. She is working for the head of Braga, Campos (John Ortiz) and the film teases a relationship between Dom and her that I also completely neglected from my initial viewing. I could not help but chuckle at Lin’s comments in the commentary predicting big things coming for the future Wonder Woman. Two big things I took away from my first viewing of this film nine years ago was that it made GPS seem like the coolest tech out there, and the intense tunnel chase scenes. There are two tunnel chase scenes in F&F, and they both paid off with memorable thrills. If you have the time make sure to check out the extra features that break down how the crew constructed their own makeshift tunnel which enabled them to pull off the insane stunts entirely with practical effects. F&F closes with O’Conner trying to get Dom’s name cleared for helping takedown Braga, only to see Dom still get carted into a bus for lockup…that is until O’Conner goes rogue and pulls up with his own crew to bust Dom off the prison transport bus in one of the best endings of the entire series. I was in disbelief on Lin’s commentary track thoughts on the ending: ‘Yeah, we left it open-ended, we’ll see what happens if folks want to revisit this.’ As box office records and many sequels would later indicate, people went on to revisit the films with aplomb.

I referenced Lin’s commentary track a few times already, and even though it is a solo commentary I highly recommend giving it a listen since it is full on nonstop factoids and anecdotes from the filming. Aside from the commentary there is another hour and a half of extra features. There is a 20-minute short film, Los Bandolerors, that sets the stage for the beginning of F&F, and while it features most of the cast and has a couple little moments referenced in the film, I would not say it is requisite viewing. There are eight extra features with most of them showcasing the cars and stunt work. The two extras I would recommend the most are Getting the Gang Back Together and Races & Chases. The former has the cast reflecting on the past films and how it felt to reunite for this film and the latter is the aforementioned extra that breaks down how the crew made the awesome GPS race and tunnel chases possible. The Pitbull music video for ‘Blanco’ is skip-worthy, but do not skip through the gag reel because it has a killer spoof at the end that left me rolling! I should mention like the prior films, on this F&F re-watch, I experienced it with the Giant Bomb commentary track where their staff does another commendable job highlighted with Alex’s vast knowledge of the series shepherding Dan’s earnest negligence of it. I enjoyed Fast & Furious much more than I remembered. The latter films upped the ante so much more with their casting and stunts that it made me forget how this film got the movies going in that direction. If you have somehow not seen this installment in the films yet, go out of your way now to correct that wrong! Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed Deck the Halls Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Guardians of the Galaxy Hercules: Reborn Hitman Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Man of Steel Man on the Moon Marine 3-5 Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Days of Future Past

[myassbrokethefall]

All right, I just watched This for the third time, and the first time where I could really pause and rewind and have my attention undivided, since the first time through my brain was just a mess of AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS SO GOOD and the second time it was so I could follow along with Gillian’s tweets. (I may have learned what a taint was that day, but I did not get much detailed information about the plot.) (Just kidding, I already knew what a taint was, unlike Gillian Anderson who is clearly still enjoying the novelty of having recently found out about it.)

Here are my unedited (except for typos/some cleanup for clarity purposes) thoughts as I watched it, under a cut because anytime anyone says “lol here are my UNEDITED THOUGHTS” it should be under a cut, I feel like. Enjoy! Or don’t.

Phone: MULDER! MULDER! MULDER! MULDER! MULDER! MULDER!

Mulder: *sleeps*

Scully (very quietly): Mulder

Mulder: WHAT I'M UP I'M UP

I hope those assassins had to get out of the car and manually heave the gate out of the way like Scully did in IWTB.

Why is there an antler on the floor? Do Mulder and Scully just have...a single antler

"Accuse your enemies of that which you are guilty"?? I didn't even see that because apparently I didn’t look up either time while the themesong was playing. Also, in the grand tradition of "that with which he can't live without," this is grammatically incoherent. Good proofreading everyone

I look forward to someone less lazy than me examining every single frame of film in which the Unremarkable House appears and itemizing all of Mulder and Scully's possessions. I MAY have the same toaster oven as them?

Scully's badge number is XF072161?? What happened to JTTsomething? @startwreck did you know about this

227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA. A real town. Google Map it, click Satellite, zoom out and note with pleasure (if you’re me) how in the exact bullseye middle of a bunch of empty green they are, far from civilization. That’s how I like my Unremarkable House. 

Simultaneous thoughts I had as the second wave of bad guys was attacking: How on earth did somebody get upstairs that fast? Did they parachute in? / Look at that beautiful porchlight

Crucial Plot Points That I Missed Entirely While In Raptures Over The Mulder And Scully Goodness Of This Episode, Part 1: Barbara Hershey’s character sent this Russian goon squad. Ah.

russian guy: (mockingly) “I want to believe”?

mulder: it’s not enough this dude is about to kill me, he has to make fun of my nerd poster? insult to injury

skinner: ugh just surrender to them! it's fine 

m&s: they tried to assassinate us two times

skinner: ohhhh lol sorry i didn't know they were going to do that MY bad

This order of presidents/32 32nd 34 35...stuff feels so unpolished and ad-libbed even though it's obviously plot-crucial (so I assume scripted), but it's like, they're just kinda bouncing around NEAR the lines, and I love it. And I love when Scully holds out her hand for him to supply the answer of which president FDR is and he has no idea so she supplies “32nd” and he's like “32 yeah I was totally about to say that yup” and then he forgets the number 33 exists, thus missing the clue. You're a mess, Mulder. Thank goodness for your smart wife.

Also it makes me wonder if "now you're just showing off, really" was an ad-lib of David’s because it feels like he interrupts her line; she has just said "FDR" and he says that and then she continues on with the FDR part again. scripted or duchovny? LEAVE MY JOKES IN GLEN

Them just figuring out this cemetery clue like Encyclopedia Brown GIVES ME LIFE

Skinner gave them a Leatherman? Handy/I’m surprised they didn’t trade it for more muffins

“it links to a video of the pet or person” lol

THIS SHOW IS LITERALLY SO DARK I HONESTLY CANNOT SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING; it went to commercial on a lingering shot of something and I don’t know what it was

So we kinda already knew this, but the "I'm gonna open an x-file on this bran muffin" line comes BEFORE the "I opened an x-file on this building in the '90s" line, leading me to believe that the bran muffin x-file line is also an ad-lib (in addition to Gillian’s “alien butt” line directly after, which she confirmed it was) because "opening an x-file” was on David's mind from doing the scene over and over. Scully's "An x-file?" line delivered like that's a new idea doesn't really mesh with her just having heard that term 20 seconds ago in re: bran muffins. DETECTIVE WORK

(also to be clear I’M FINE WITH THAT, leave in all their ad libs, they’re canon now, canon canon canon canon)

scully: walter we need your HELP 

skinner: kids, i literally already gave you all the money I have, jesus I am just trying to go to work, can you please handle your shit

scully: we used UP all that money on MUFFINS, and we ATE THEM ALL ok those muffins were GREAT but we are HUNGRY AGAIN we need your HELP GODDAMNIT even though we don’t TRUST YOU, why are you such a JERK, can’t you just go to the ATM? UNTRUSTWORTHY

"if you want to see the x-files you don't have to go to the office" me: I do spend quite a bit of time at the office seeing the x-files though (or at least various secondary references thereto)

Mulder, after two seconds of searching in the proprietary search bar: fuck this it doesn’t work I'll just google it #relatable

Crucial Plot Points That I Missed Entirely While In Raptures Over The Mulder And Scully Goodness Of This Episode, Part 2: that the spank bank thing was a deliberate secret message leading to the Langly's girlfriend lady. (also that they kept that from Skinner)

I also missed all this Sims talk with Langly’s girlfriend, on how they would know it was a simulation. "you wouldn't be able to click on the neighbor's house" "there would be a loading screen every time you went on vacation" "if you had the pets pack installed the same dog would come every day and dig a hole in your yard" "buy mode would be disabled if there was a burglar" "you would only be able to make macaroni and cheese until you had more cooking points" "if story progression was turned on sometimes you'd go to your neighbor's house and there would just be a random baby on the floor" "blurry boxes would appear on you every time you went to the bathroom" i got a million of ’em

Lollllllll at Mulder's awkward cough after “maybe he saw Mulder in his dreams” / “Who hasn't” / Scully’s look

What’s with all the fly imagery? Two acts have opened with closeup shots of insects.

This skanky bar scene...every moment of it is a cinematic masterpiece that I will treasure forever

Scully's hilarious face in reaction to the beer is another thing I didn't notice. like, this is what you ordered for me while I was asleep? gross dude

also I love her smile as she closes her eyes again like, mulder's yappin, all's right with the world, goodnight

Langly simulation: Are you...Fox...Mulder? Something about that name...is familiar to me...as if from another life...I feel compelled to contact you though I don't know why or what it means

Mulder: Yes, it's me, and Scully

Langly simulation: DANA SCULLY?! Omg how are you girl I miss you so much! omg I'm gonna cry I’m so glad to see you how the hell are you

We're digital slaves...they force us to make grilled cheese sandwiches over and over again and every time we try to play videogames they make us study the mechanical skill instead...sometimes they put us in a pool and take the ladder away just for their sick amusement...that's not even getting into the torment that comes from the move_objects on cheat...sure we may have rosebud!;!;!;!; levels of money and I may be the mayor but aging is turned off and I've already bought the fanciest TV and the most comfy bed and I've done all the tomb quests in World Adventures and I don't know what else there is here for me...plus the game lags every time I try to go on the subway...it's hell, Mulder, hell (sorry, done with the Sims jokes now)

Scully, they don't serve mimosas on the bus; believe me, I would know.

Do Gillian's kids get freaked out hearing her speak in an American accent? No more freaked out than seeing her in a red wig i guess

JACOB JARVITS FEDERAL BUILDING #neverforget

What is with the "looking moodily out at the New York skyline at night while sipping a martini in an ’80s movie" soundtrack in this "get us in the tunnel" scene

Mulder's eyebrow raise after "married to the Bureau" *drapes it all over my body*

the clearest and largest STAIRS sign in all of history; sure half the episode is so dark you can't make out what's happening but god forbid we not know that the door Mulder's gesturing to is the S T A I R S

literally why IS mulder yelling out numbers on the stairs at the top of his lungs? he's not even counting the floors, there are 29 floors and he's like 32 34 36 38...he's counting by twos...is he counting the stairs? Why? scripted or duchovny? "glen please leave in my inane stair counting, it's funny!" "david by gum you guys are magic. magic! ok ok, no problem buddy, just keep it flowing"

mulder and scully get in like 12 physical fights in this episode. AMAZING

Ok, now here’s where I really have to pay attention because i legit did not listen to a GODDAMN WORD of this Barbara Hershey scene the other two times.

Why are there SO MANY lamps in here and how is it still so dark

"You're still refusing to answer the question of your father" am I supposed to remember what that is? Show, you greatly overestimate me

Hold on, did Scully jump some guy with a flashlight and beat the shit out of him during this voiceover and I didn't even realize it? GO SCULLY (closed captioning: “blows landing, groaning”)

Crucial Plot Points That I Missed Entirely While In Raptures Over The Mulder And Scully Goodness Of This Episode, Part 3: the entire earth is about to burn down, whoops, did NOT catch that.

"my company advised killing you" okaayyyy

Did barbara hershey ask muldo to kill csm last episode and he said he wouldn't? why the hell not? do it dude do it

"we can upload a mind through any smartphone" sure until Apple releases a new OS and then it starts lagging

“We can take a piece of your mind anytime you make a call” oh good they’ll get like 3 pieces of my mind a year then. It would be much more efficient to take a piece of my mind every time I open Hay Day

Mulder has been handcuffed or fake-handcuffed A LOT this episode. He's going to need to process this through roleplay once he and Scully get home

Is Scully using the Leatherman as a physical key to switch off a top-secret high-security NSA federal computer system in lieu of the actual, presumably very specialized, key manufactured for that purpose? It really can do anything.

I can’t tell what we’re supposed to be seeing in this conference room to indicate that it was abandoned. Barbara Hershey is gone but was there other stuff in there? Like a sign that said “THE CONSPIRACY” or something? The LAMPS are still there, I guess they didn’t have time to pack those up

There's an orange on the floor in the UH. This is a step up, nutrition-wise, from the time Mulder had potato chips on the coffee table in IWTB. 

There is a basketball hoop DIRECTLY over a lamp. Really, Mulder?

Scully literally drops off to sleep in 3 seconds. all things continuity. 👏

So, destroy the backup? Does that mean there's a backup to the simulation and they’re just going to restore from it and nothing they did accomplished anything? Except for being the most delightful and satisfying episode of TXF ever filmed? Also what does the curly-haired guy being in there mean? I mean obviously he was uploaded after he died but is he in there like, tormenting Langly now? In the backup? How many backups are there? Can a Leatherman be used to defeat all of them?

I don’t care; Mulder and Scully are asleep on the couch and everything is perfect.