#also loved the fact that the 60 year old woman who rang me up at checkout was like ‘oh my god im reading death note right now too!’

[jiishwa]

alright lads i’m finally doing it. i’m finally reading death note.

[iamthekaijuking]

King’s Nightmarish Retail Experience

This post has been a long time coming because I know for a fact that suffering through retail makes for excellent stories and I have cosmically bad luck when it comes to dealing with people, so over the course of like 1 1/2 years I’ve just been stockpiling notes. I had been working with some people who had been working in pickup for five years and by the time I left I had three times more stories than they did. And now that I’ve quit over a month ago I can unleash this upon the world.

This post will only go over my experiences with customers and not people I worked with or how the store was ran. Most people in the store I worked at were either just normal people doing their jobs or the sweetest people you’ll ever meet, and very few people working in my store were actually jerks or gross. That’s actually how it is for most retail shops in general actually. Now I could say stuff about the few jerks (and I’d love to) but I’m not going to just as another way to eliminate any possibility of incriminating where it is I worked. Plus most of that frustration was directed at managers and corporate so you can probably guess why I’d be frustrated.

Also some of these stories are kinda gross so you know, warning. Although I did try and keep it classy.

General weird people in the store.

When I was out on the floor getting items for orders I observed a fair share of horrible and gross behavior. Things ranging from a guy sticking his hand in his pants to directly scratch his junk in public to a woman doing the same but with her chocolate starfish. Sometimes I even saw excellent parenting as well such as the time I saw a little kid pinching his dad, only for the dad to spin around and lift him up by the scruff of his shirt and say “Pinch me again and I’m breaking your neck in the parking lot”. Another time I saw a mom throw her umbrella at her toddlers face because he wasn’t listening to her. Excellent stuff.

This one is actually from one of my coworkers but years ago around the time The Last Jedi released a bunch of blue milk hit the shelves. My coworker was just getting items until a fat scruffy neckbeard guy barged up to her and yelled “Where’s your blue star wars milk?!”. If it happened to me I’d have to try really hard not to laugh at them.

I’ve also just had a customer just walk up to me and demand I clean up a carton of milk a child spilled even when I specified that I was a pickup worker, that wasn’t my job, and I didn’t have a phone to call anyone about it. I ended up having to ineffectively sponge it with paper towels while he watched with his hands on his hips for thirty seconds. Eventually someone came with a mop though.

I’ve had a woman pull me aside wanting me to help her text pictures of her pipes to her plumber. Like… no! I didn’t have time for that! You’d think she was a super old lady in her 80s or something but no she was like late 50s/early 60s! Old enough to know how a smartphone works!

Every customer from here on is memorable enough that I’ve given them their own section.

Memorial Day Farter

This one happened when I was out picking items for orders on Memorial Day.

A woman who, and I really have no other words to describe her, was a hamburger helper of a woman bent over in front of me to grab something and just bayblade let it rip directly on me. I have anosmia but I could tell it was a rancid congalala fart because I could taste it. I swear to god that the gust of intestinal wind that came out of her was powerful enough to blow my shirt back a bit.

And she didn’t even acknowledge it either! She just laboriously got back up and left!

I showered when I got home.

Cottage Cheese Lady

Once again I was out on the floor, this time in the dairy section.

I was grabbing stuff and my cart was parked in front of the cottage cheese. Off to my side an older lady was looking for something. English was not her first language cause she said “Where cottage cheese?” but she wasn’t facing me so I assumed she was taking to herself. But she kept repeating it louder and louder until she turned to me and yelled “WHERE COTTAGE CHEESE?!”. It took me a second to realize she had been talking to me the entire time and in that time she got right up in my face (or as close to it as a five foot person can to a 6ft 1 guy) and almost pinned me against the doors in the dairy section. And for some reason thrusted her chest out at me.

Now she was wearing some fancy v-neck jacket with a very deep v-neck and she was old. So she was thrusting some very unimpressive flabs at me while yelling “WHERE COTTAGE CHEESE”. Overwhelmed, I quickly slid out from in front of her and pushed my cart out of the way and pointed. She then arched her spine the opposite way like a hunchback in defeat and just said “oh…”.

“Bro”

This one also happened when I was out picking items. Occasionally when out picking customers would sometimes ask me where things are, and while I didn’t like it because we were timed on how fast we picked items for orders and the people in charge would get on our asses if we weren’t fast enough for them, I still answered customers if I could, sometimes even taking them to what they wanted if I had time or was in a good mood. Most of the time though people were right in front of what they were looking for and ended up looking like complete idiots.

That said, I didn’t know where everything was in the store. I’m not a robot. But you’d be surprised how downright pissy people get when you tell them you don’t know where something is. This guy is one of them.

So I was picking and a guy twenty feet away from me held his phone up and asked me “do you know where this is bro?”. Now I just want to take a second to describe this man. This guy who looked to be in his forties was in a tank top and had the torso of a really tall broad guy like me, but had limbs so short in skinny that he was only like 5 feet tall, so he had the proportions of a fuckin spore creature. I told him “sorry I don’t know where that is” because one I probably wouldn’t have, two I was strapped for time, and three I can’t see what’s on a phone twenty feet away from me.

This guy immediately raises his voice and yells “Oh so you don’t pay attention when you take stuff off the shelves bro?!”. I was just completely taken aback and a few people were looking at the scene this guy was making, so to get out of the sticky situation I pulled the ultimate get out of jail free card for dealing with customers: I told him it was my first day on the job even though I had been working for over one and a half years at that point.

Immediately this guy’s demeanor changed like a psycho and he started trying to be all cheerful and welcoming me to my new job. He even walked up to try and pat me on the back but I cringed away, and I think he got the message from that and left me alone.

Karen Video Tapes Me

This is the last one where I was out picking for orders.

So it was late in my shift, around 45 minutes before it ended, and I was with another person. It was a pretty good night so I decided that I’d pick for orders the next day just to get us a little bit ahead. So I’m out pushing my cart and getting items and as I turn into an aisle there’s this short old blond lady with a very fluffy expensive coat standing in the middle of the entrance to the aisle. No biggie though, I just maneuver around her and give her two feet of space. But as I pass her she turns to me in disbelief and says “you almost ran me over!” and I just kinda look at her confused and weirded out before continuing.

Now it could have just ended there with both of us thinking the other was weird and kinda rude but continuing on and probably not remembering each other the next day, but this woman was so incredibly personally offended by me. So later in my item wave I’m in the baking aisle bending down to grab something and I noticed out of the corner of my eye someone leaning into the entrance to the aisle and aiming their phone at me.

I got up and walked over and they shrank away, and as I turned the corner it was her! She had filmed me (without my consent which is illegal in my state) and was now scurrying like a fucking rodent towards the front of the store where one of the store managers was at.

I think “hell fucking no she’s not getting away with that” and I end my item wave and bring my cart back to my department to park it while calling who was in charge of the store at the time and explaining everything to her. She asked if the Karen was still in the store and I said I’d check. So I leave my department again to walk up front and see the lady walking up to the guy who oversees the self checkout and asking him to call a manager. I sauntered up with a smile on my face and told him “No no, this is about me. I’ll handle it.”

So I go towards the front office and find the store manager there and explain everything to him. He asks if the Karen is still there and I tell him yes and she wants to meet you, and I’ll take you to her. So I bring him over while making a show out of being polite to everyone around me and saying excuse me to customers in my way all while the lady is trying to burn holes through me with her eyes. I brought the store manager up to her and as he started talking to her I dipped out because my shift was over by then.

I don’t actually know what happened after that but judging by the fact that I heard nothing about it the next day I assume I didn’t get into any trouble and the lady got to die mad about it.

Public Pisser

Every story from now on happened while I was in my department “running desk”, which means I was taking out orders to people in the little pickup parking lot.

This story is also the first weird customer interaction I had.

So I was just watching the camera feed waiting for people to come get their orders when a white SUV pulls up right beside the door we used to go in and out. A guy stepped out of the car but stayed behind his car door so I couldn’t really see him on the camera. He just kinda stood there for a bit and I was starting to wonder what he was doing, so I walked up to the door and flip up a little flap that lets me see through a small window…

And he was pissing.

He was pissing in public on the door. And I saw everything, including how painfully average he was below the belt.

So I knocked on the door to get his attention and his head snapped up to look me in the eyes. I just slowly nodded my head “no” while he started cussing at me, and then I just stepped away from the door and kinda let him get away with it because I was done with the interaction.

Tornado Lady

This one is short and just kinda shows how skewed the priorities of some people can be.

This happened during a tornado that was passing by, and the wind was going crazy and it was raining bullets. At the time the incident happened everyone in the store was in the tornado shelter areas and even the people who had come for their orders moved to park in front of the store to get to safety. All except for one car.

About ten minutes into waiting for the tornado to pass we get a call on our department phone (because people could call us to say they were there although we preferred if people used the app) and it’s an old lady who yells this.

“Um hello?! My husband has been waiting for his order for fifteen minutes! What’s the hold up?!”

My only response I could muster was “Ma’am there is A TORNADO OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW YOUR HUSBAND NEEDS TO GET TO SAFETY.” and she hung up.

The car with the hubby inside didn’t move but luckily the storm didn’t last much longer afterwards and things could continue as normal. In contrast to his wife the man was actually very kind and understanding.

Unactivated Credit Card

So something to note about how pickup worked, at least where I was employed, was that when a customer signed in we had to scan and assemble all the items in their order that we stored after picking, and then process the payment. Sometimes the payment could fail for a variety of reasons though. Like if the customer didn’t have enough money, or their card was locked, or they used a third party payment like PayPal, or their order was so expensive that their bank locks their card to prevent fraud (frustratingly common). When that happened the person running desk had to print off a bunch of paperwork, go out and get the customer’s card, then go halfway across the building to the self checkout to manually pay for the order there. It was an incredibly infuriating process that brought everything to a halt (even while we were still being timed).

One time though a lady’s order failed and I just spent a half hour going back and forth trying to get her card to work all while she kept getting angrier at me. She even accused me of running her card through the scanner wrong, which… there’s only one way to do it so that’s impossible. Eventually she called her bank in a fit and it turns out her card, which was brand new, wasn’t even activated. So she just flipped me off and sped off.

Mulch Lady

So this one took place when a deal was going on at the store. Multiple stores in the chain were having a deal with mulch where if you bought ten you’d get them for ten dollars. However, there was a glitch in pickup where you could instead get ten for five dollars. Management had actually called us to tell us about this and that if people place orders for mulch we’ll have to call the customer and explain to them they will have to pay full price or we will have to cancel the order.

Now a woman tried to place five orders of ten packs of mulch. So I had to call her and explain why if she wanted the mulch she’d have to pay double what the glitch was telling her. Immediately she gets all pissy and throws a fit and tells me that I have to “respect the wishes of the customer”. So when that conversation was over I had to call a store manager about it.

Basically we had to get the mulch ready and she needed to come inside to talk to him about the deal and get stuff sorted out. So that was frustrating because my department had to get 50 packs of mulch, which was so much that we had to borrow a special large trolley from another department. My conversation with the mulch lady went more or less the same as it did before except for one key difference.

She mentioned that her friends did the same thing at a different store the day before so she was extra angry that she couldn’t do the same. And that’s when I realized, the only reason management caught the glitch in the first place is because of her friends and she was trying to pull the same shit they did! Anyways she came for her mulch and went to talk to the store manager about it, and the conversation went in circles because she kept saying “I don’t understand” to everything. Not because she actually couldn’t comprehend anything, but because she didn’t like the answer she was getting and was trying to bait out a different one. She eventually relented though and settled on only taking half the mulch she ordered, which was annoying since I had to remove some from the giant pile of 50 ten pound bags.

So as I’m taking out all the bags on the large trolly I get to the door and suddenly the trolley stops. I took a look and realized the trolley was barely wider than the doorframe and because of the weight it was now wedged in the door and I couldn’t get it out. So I basically had to climb the mountain of mulch to get to the other side and start unloading it into the lady’s van to get rid of the excess weight and dislodge the trolley. It worked but it was really annoying.

Also Mulch Lady didn’t learn her lesson because she tried the same shit the next day.

Taking Offense to a Thanks

This one still makes me mad.

So with how pickup works a customer is supposed to use the app to say they’re on their way and then when they arrive they say they’re here. The idea is to give us a heads up so we can partly prepare an order ahead of time so that when the customer arrives they don’t wait as long and we can beat the timer (because we were timed).

But the longer I stayed at the place the less and less customers did this and it got to a point where only about 1/5th of customers were telling us they were on their way. So eventually I started politely asking customers to let us know when they’re coming, and it was working somewhat until this guy.

Let’s call him Brick. So one day Brick came without letting us know he was on his way and he had a huge order, so big in fact that another coworker went out to help me load it onto his truck (he never helped of course). When we finished I did my usual “You’re all set, have a good day” routine and politely asked him to let us know when he’s on his way. As I turned around and went inside Brick pulled my coworker to the side to complain to her and demand why he had to do that. Even when she politely explained he still threw a fit before driving off, and I later learned that Brick complained to corporate.

A week later when I served him again he actually did use the app to say he was on his way, so I very politely thanked him for doing that and said that because fewer people were notifying us things were getting harder and so I appreciated that small thing. Apparently my thanks just broke Brick because he complained to corporate again but this time said just about every bad thing you could say about an employee short of assault and sexual harassment, so I got written up for it.

I refused to serve Brick again, because he just had it out for me and kept asking my coworkers where I was and kept saying that he wanted a word with me.

Now this story might have a happy ending because it turns out that Brick owns a construction company around where I live and I’m currently trying to figure out how my family and I can review bomb his business without getting sued for defamation.

Nasty Man

Some customers really don’t care to not look like total slobs in front of others or try and have some public decency. One interaction sticks out to me and I’m going to call this guy Cory because he looked like Armenian Cory but somehow even more swollen.

I took his order out to him and he got out of his car to help (which honestly good on him I appreciated that). But he was greasy and his shirt was like three sizes too small and his pants were too big and about to fall down. Cory also wasn’t wearing underwear and I learned that the hard way when he bent over when facing away from me and bared his whole ass. I also unfortunately noticed his fly was down and I could see his uhh… small earthworm.

It was a very uncomfortable situation and I couldn’t tell him to pull his pants up because he could report me and I’d get in trouble! So I had to grin and bear it while this idiot was getting his groceries with his dick out.

Happy Birthday!

This is another customer who had zero shame.

This happened last year on my birthday/national Godzilla Day. It was night and I was doing a later shift and a guy in a truck pulled up and signed in. Things went pretty normally and I took his order out to him. Now I was going to put it in his trunk because that’s usually where customers want their groceries, but this guy said he wanted his stuff in the passenger seat.

I was like “Okay” because that’s not really a big deal, so I opened the door and started unloading his groceries and I noticed he was watching his phone. Now the phone was mostly turned away from me but I could see just a sliver of the screen, enough to make out what he was watching. And he was watching…

Porn

He was watching porn right in front of me while I was giving him his groceries.

Absolutely shameless.

He tried to turn the phone away from me more but I already saw. I basically hurried up with giving him his stuff and rushed back inside. Now I expected him to leave after that… but then his truck started shaking. I eventually called the store manager and we were about to send security out before he finished and drove off. I think he knew I saw because he never came back.

The Time I Was Actually Almost Mugged or Trafficked

I’ve actually talked about this one in the past here before but I’ll just rehash it here, and unlike all the other stories where it’s just about Karens and idiots and gross slobs, this one is actually scary.

So it was late at night and I was covering for my underage coworker so she could take a lunch break. A black SUV slowly pulled up to park and takes up 2 parking spots, and then a woman got out of her car and kinda stumbled over to the signs in front of the pickup parking spots.

I assumed she's drunk and can't sign into the app and is looking at the signs for the number to call us and say she's here. But then she walked up to the pickup door and knocked, and was keeping her face away from the camera the whole time. I grew incredibly suspicious because customers aren't supposed to come up to the door for security reasons, and she's keeping her face turned away from the camera the whole time. So I slinked up to the door and quietly flipped the metal plate to peek out the window.

Her back is still to the door.

I slink back to the curbside front desk and keep my eyes on the camera. After awhile she stumbles back to her car and then calls. I proceeded as normal and get her name, but as I was looking I noticed that her name isn't on the list for the day. I think "okay maybe she's drunk and her order is for tomorrow". I looked all the way up into a week ahead of time. Her name was not on the order list. I told her this and asked if her order was under a different name. She said "Well I used my son's card for the order so maybe it's under that, but his last name is the same."

Btw I could barely understand her and I had to ask her to repeat herself a few times.

I asked what it is she ordered. She said sketchers. I looked for some shoes. We didn’t have any back in pickup for any orders. I told her this and before I could tell her she might be at the wrong store she hangs up. And stayed there for almost ten minutes.

2 customers pulled up and signed in for their orders and I think “okay I’m not going out alone”. So I called the head of the store and she sent a team lead and what I assume was security back there. As I’m explaining to them the situation my coworker gets back from break. So I come up with a plan: we all go out at the same time and my coworker and I give the orders to the customers while the two guys talk to her and see what’s up.

But as they approached her car she sped off.

They're weirded out too and gave me the number for security in case she came back. And for the rest of my shift I did not let my 16 year old coworker take out orders, and when I left I urged her to call security if anything vaguely weird happened.

Now this exact situation could have gone so much worse. What these people like that do is get a woman in on the whole thing drunk and drive them to a pickup parking lot at night. The reason she’s drunk is to make her seem defenseless and to lower the guard of the employees, but she also hid her face from the camera to make it harder to link her to a crime. Everything she did was to get someone to come out to the car where more people hiding in the back of the vehicle would come out to mug the employee, or if they’re underage girls, potentially kidnap them.

This exact scenario has played out before around where I live and I am so glad that my cautious nature picked up on what was going on.

The Worst Customer

I’ve painted a pretty good picture of some pretty terrible people, but this woman is in a league of her own. To give a sense of how awful she was, she is the only customer I’ve ever had who purposely caused me physical harm. I’m going to call her Slattern, because that is the nicest thing I could call her.

She was a regular to the store, but she never did anything to meet us halfway and was so incredibly short fused and rude that half of the people in my department dreaded serving Slattern. So full of anger was she that she could barely keep herself from throwing a fit when we so much as asked her name when we brought her order out to double check that it was hers.

The one time Slattern hurt me was during winter where I guess she was having a bad day or something. As I was leaning into the back of her SUV to put the groceries in I saw her hand fly up and press the button on her rear view mirror that closed the trunk, and it slammed down on my head. The metal edge of it hit me and the only reason I wasn’t cut and bleeding is because I had a jacket over my head, and that jacket got a cut in it afterwards. I almost fell over onto the ice covered asphalt because of how much pain I was in. Her teenage son actually showed concern for me and was asking if I was okay, but when I looked at Slattern’s face through the rear view mirror all I saw was her looking at me with this smug satisfied smirk.

This woman was genuine evil and had some of the worst tantrums the store I worked at ever saw on the few occasions she stormed up to the front to argue with a store manager. Even they thought Slattern was “a complete bitch”, and even her son tried to get her to stop a few times. I quit before I ever saw the end to the Slattern Saga, but I’m certain she’s banned from the store by now. I would have absolutely pressed charges but unfortunately the trunk thing was very easy to write off as an accident.

The Angry Cloudstrike Man

This one happened during the cloudstrike fiasco if you remember when half the internet imploded awhile ago.

During this time working retail was possibly the worst it had ever been, without a properly functioning network we were borderline incapable of doing our jobs but corporate wanted us to anyways. We had to treat every order like a failed order and this resulted in long wait times that made everyone very angry for at least a two days until everyone realized why nothing was working. But there was one older customer who just never got the memo and was just constantly a complete asshole.

Every time he’d get mad at us for our system not working and act like he expected us to magically fix it, and was just so mean and yelled at everyone who served him no matter how many times we politely explained things to him and offered gift cards as compensation. Every time he’d also say he’d complain to corporate on their website and never come back again… but then be back the next day for several days straight. So definitely not a man of his word which was kinda funny.

He was so rude to us so consistently that I was able to get the higher ups to get off their asses for once and begin the process of banning him from the store.

It eventually came to a head one day where he placed an order but we never received it (because again, cloudstrike) and yelled at a coworker who had to go out and explain it to him. When she came back inside he called our front desk and I answered.

Again, I explained to him what happened and that we had no power to fix it, but he refused to listen and the conversation went in circles. It eventually got to the point where he was wasting so much of my time and I was getting so sick of his shit that I realized “okay corporate already knows this guy is an asshole and he’s already getting banned from the store and he already probably spews bullshit when he complains to corporate” and just went mask off.

I personally shrink away from confrontation so this is very uncharacteristic of me, but I just started full blown arguing with him and trying to make him as angry as possible. I didn’t hurl any obscenities but it was clear I was just stirring shit, and oh my god it was euphoric. If you’ve never worked retail you will never know the feeling of having a job where you simultaneously keep the gears of society turning while being treated like the shit stuck on someone’s shoe, and just unleashing that frustration on someone who deserves it. The only way that moment could have been even better is if I could reach through the phone and strangle the guy like Bart Simpson.

I wanted to end on a happy note. That’s about it for the retail stories.

[nsfwhiphop]

Incoming Text for Julianne Moore:

Hey, Julianne! It's me, Angelo.

Can I be honest with you? Don't be mad at me, okay? Promise?

I know you're a good friend of Natalie Portman. I've ignored you for the past few months to respect your privacy, and everything was fine until just a week ago when you suddenly flooded my Tumblr feed with your pictures. What's up with that? Why did you lose your self-control like that and suddenly decide to flood my Tumblr feed with your pictures?

Oh, I know, it's Natalie again, isn't it? She sent you to reason with me, hoping I'll come to my senses and acknowledge you all. Well, you thought wrong.

Just kidding aside, I'm a huge admirer of your work. I've been following your movies since 'The Dude' with Jeff Bridges and the Coen Brothers, so you can say I'm a dedicated fan.

I know you're a wise woman, and you are a lady, that's why I never bothered you, I think you are a legend in the film industry and I just didn't want to bother you, that's all.

Oh, I almost forgot! I absolutely loved your collaboration with Elton John in Kingsman. It was such a fun movie. Though, I have to admit, the scene where you turned human meat into hashed meat was quite disturbing. That image has stuck with me—it's easily one of the most unsettling scenes I've ever encountered in a film. Geez, woman! You cooked a steak with human meat, it was horrible, when I watched that scene, I was like: "Why did they let this scene in the screenplay? It's awful."

The movie was perfect but the human meat burger was a horrible idea, make sure you tell that to Matthew Vaughn, he wrote the screenplay. Human meat? Steak burger? Come on, man!

My dear Julianne Moore, you're beautiful, but I'm gonna be honest: I've never thought of chasing you. Maybe it's because you're the same age as Pierce Brosnan; he's 70 and you're 63. So yeah, I'm 20 years younger. By the way, I remember that lawyer movie too. I watched it many moons ago—actually, it was in 2004. But hey, who's counting?

I know my wife Tracey is 57 years old. Anything under 60 is fine with me, but anything above 60 is beyond my age limit. You're already three years into that range.

Fun Fact: "My mother is born the same year in 1960, you are the same age, so yeah, you know why I never look to seduce women born that year, it's spooky to me, it's a turn-off. You could be my mother."

Also, my mom has cancer, so yeah, I'm dealing with that pain too.

I hope you are not mad at me for being honest. I'm just real like that.

If you want a good team to hangout with, I encourage you to hangout with the X-Files team and the Conjuring Franchise team, the actress Gillian Anderson and the actress Vera Farmiga, you'll have fun with them.

Also, I have to warn you, Gillian Anderson loves to talk about penises on her IG page, so if she mentions penises in her conversations, don't be shocked, it's just her humor, it's Gillian humor.

I hope this message was useful, helpful.

Okay, this chat was fun.

Love you, Julianne! Have fun, big hug for you.

[ao3-sucks]

An Archive of Someone’s Own: my experiences being groomed in fandom circles on AO3

TW: Childhood sexual abuse, grooming, mentions of incest and rape.

I used to be a big writer of fanfiction. It was the logical choice for me. I loved to write and create bold and immersive worlds, and I craved an audience who would enjoy my work as much as I did. Since my writing wasn’t actually good, I needed a community of other amateurs who wouldn’t mind that, and by tweaking my characters and settings into ones from canonical media, I got the audience I so craved.

I started writing fanfiction online when I was 14, posting initially on FanFiction.net and then moving to AO3 a few months later. As I got back into writing original fiction towards the end of high school, I lost interest in this community, and it’s been a long time since I posted anything much on AO3.

I’ve always struggled with the fact I display a lot of symptoms of CSA, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. Throughout my teen years, I refused to get changed or bathe when anyone was even vaguely nearby, constantly paranoid about being spied on; I developed a severe touch phobia, and would have frequent panic attacks from something as small as brushing arms with a passerby; I resolutely identified as asexual and refused to get into anything resembling a relationship with others because the very concept disgusted and repulsed me.

Weird, considering I had grown up pretty normal and all of these symptoms had started around my early teens. It was only when I told my friends about my friendship with a 30 year old I had met online that the pieces started falling into place for me.

Child grooming is usually discussed in the context of one adult going out of their way to befriend a child with the goal of lowering their resistance to sexual abuse, through normalisation and friendliness. I’d like to talk about how that worked on the fanfiction website AO3. Since it’s an open website and most communication takes place between anonymous users or accounts in the comments section of a work, there is very little delineation between spaces for adults to discuss whatever dark topics they like and spaces for kids to do the same.

This frequently leads to pretty inappropriate conversations between people of widely varying ages and life experiences, which is how I ended up talking sex as a fourteen year old with people ranging from a couple of years older than me, who were generally okay, to more than twice my age. The 30 year old in question listed on her profile how many pedophilic ships she loved, and she knew my age but pushed me to keep discussing sexual topics with her. Sounds like a red flag, yeah? Well. I was 14, and very stupid.

This 30 year old woman, who I will call Aku (because it’s similar to her screen name and because it’s funny to name her after the bad guy from Samurai Jack) would start conversations with me whenever I posted anything to AO3 and would refuse to take no for an answer when I tried to back out of conversations with her, and since these conversations were public and occurring within comments, I didn’t want to be rude to her since this was taking place on content I was trying to promote.

I told her my age multiple times and she would either pretend she forgot from last time (saying her memory is super bad) or continue as though it was just trivia about me and not a sign she shouldn’t have been pushing me. My primary objection to what she would say to me (since most of it was just her being annoying) was her insistence on sexualising everything I wrote, and her determination to push me into writing pornographic content, which I eventually gave in to.

Yes, she was a terrible person. She emailed me using her personal email address, so I know her full name and place of residence, because she’s an idiot. These emails also contain sexually explicit materials. Nothing much ever happened between us except for these very creepy interactions and the fact we remained online friends for a few years. But here’s the thing: she wasn’t the only person pushing me into creating sexual content. Lots of people would comment on my writing demanding that I show explicit sexual content when I really didn’t want to.

After a while it felt like I couldn’t write a longer, romantic fanfiction without including explicit sexual content. Like my work wasn’t valid without it. Other, more popular writers were usually sexual in their content, and I wanted to be like them and bring in the views, right? So, when I look at my back catalog of works, I can see how my content moved from completely non-sexual to featuring sexual content over time, and the views usually came with. In this way, I was in an environment that was encouraging me on many levels to sexualise my own work, which impacted the way I thought about my creative process.

Here’s another example I remember. When I was a young sprout, I remember reading down someone’s list of fanfiction recommendations and seeing a work called Hug Therapy, which I promptly read. While the work is marked as explicit and containing the Loki/Thor pairing, the use of relationship and rating tags on AO3 is so poorly regulated that it didn’t really mean anything to me to see either of those. People tag hardcore material as non-explicit and tag friendships as relationships, because there’s no motivation to tag properly. Plus, someone I followed here on Tumblr had recommended it to me.

Now, you wouldn’t know from the listing, but while this piece starts out as comedy, it turns out in the end to include rape, incest, and BDSM in very explicit terms. The fact it was tagged as being explicit didn’t slow me down, because the liberal use of these tags could mean that an explicit tag was just there because sexual content was implied or mentioned, which I thought would be the case based on the rest of the listing. Out of curiosity, I recently tried to report this work to the moderators for containing no warnings about incest or rape, and I got this in response:

“Selecting “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” satisfies a creator’s obligation under the warnings policy. Users who wish to avoid specific elements entirely should not access fanworks marked with “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings”. Our Terms of Service note: “You understand that using the Archive may expose you to material that is offensive, triggering, erroneous, sexually explicit, indecent, blasphemous, objectionable, grammatically incorrect, or badly spelled. ….. This decision is in accordance with our policy of maximum inclusiveness; we have therefore closed this case and will not be investigating further.”

Which, yeah, I guess. The frustration comes from how ‘Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings’ is an extremely commonly used tag, and most things that it’s used on are totally harmless.

This fanfiction, which I was recommended by a friend, is hugely popular, in the top 60 most read fanfictions in the entire fandom. You wanna hear the kicker? The author, Astolat, is one of the founders of AO3. They’re not just some random author who isn’t following the rules. They’re a creator of the whole website, and they made the rules. This is pretty telling about how seriously the website actually takes protecting their users.

My final example I want to give is one of fetish content. People in fetish communities generally (not always) say that fetishes are probably something one should work up to after the onset of sexual activity, especially potentially harmful stuff like BDSM. In the circles I was running in, if you weren’t sporting a fetish or two (no matter your age) you were a boring bitch.

Maybe this isn’t true of everywhere in the fanfiction community, but I used to feel that bizarre pressure until I got out. Bear in mind that my main time in this community was from ages 14 to 17. I never made my age a secret, either. I told people outright I was that age, I was in high school, I was playing hockey and studying The Great Gatsby when I wasn’t online.

Since I was in the Avengers fandom and I liked Loki and the Asgardians, I was frequently exposed to incestuous content between Loki and Thor, and a lot of it came out of nowhere or was poorly tagged. This was considered the norm, and while I at first felt completely horrified and repulsed, within a year or two I no longer gave a shit. It’s only in the last few years as I’ve begun to unpack everything that I’ve started to get that strong revulsion reaction to incestuous content.

In the circles I was in, it was relentlessly normal. Normal to the point that people who disliked it were usually shouted down. Even to this day, debate rages on in fandom spaces about whether or not content like this normalises this kind of abuse. In my own personal experience, which I don’t usually like to talk about, it absolutely does.

In real life, this normalisation started to have serious consequences for my mental health and interpersonal relationships. In fanfiction, any occasion when you are alone with someone could become sexual, any familial relationship is possibly sexual, and it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. I became incredibly anxious around male family members for fear of being sexually assaulted, and my OCD, which I had been developing since I was a child, turned from thoughts of physical violence to thoughts of graphically sexually assaulted by anyone and everyone around me.

My fear of being touched got to the point where I would have panic attacks if anyone came anywhere close to touching me. I quit sports, fucked up my romantic relationships, and didn’t hug anyone, not even members of my family, for years. All the while, I had bought my first laptop and was consuming more fanfiction than ever before. I struggled with my sexuality growing up, as I am bisexual, and while fanfiction provided LGBT content to help me, the content was frequently so disturbing that I viewed any expression of sexuality as something evil and predatory.

The community on AO3, whether you like it or not, is often sexual, and provides no barriers between the casual user looking for content and extremely intense fetish material. It’s sometimes called the Pornhub of fanfiction, but considering the wide range of people who use it, it’s more like if you opened Youtube and saw niche hardcore fetish videos just on the front page, recommended and trending.

Sure, you have to click a little button to confirm you’re 18 before you can actually read a story, but the tags and descriptions of readily available works can be extremely explicit. Fanfiction also brings you into close contact with fellow readers and the author, and encourages you to become a content creator, which in some ways makes it more dangerous.

I was affected much more strongly by what I saw than most people would be, because I was already treading shaky ground. But I’m also not the only person out there who has been hurt in this way. Most of my friends who grew up in fandom can report the impact that fanfiction culture had on them. One of my friends from high school knew a panoply of porn terms at age 14 or so due to reading fanfiction, and another of my other friends at high school almost exclusively read rape porn because it was her favourite. I didn’t have friends who watched porn; I had friends who read fanfiction. These are just as troubling to me as any other accounts of young people consuming visual porn from a very early age.

It’s frequently cited that fanfiction gives minority groups the opportunity for creative outlet. It was a great place for me to cut my teeth as a content creator, and a source of acceptance and kindness when times were tough. Fanfiction communities have historically been the domain of women and minorities, and create a space for these people to tell their own stories.

It’s largely because of this that fanfiction communities fear censorship and strict moderation, as they have been attacked in the past on homophobic or misogynistic grounds, resulting in mass deletions of works or the shutdown of websites. But there must be some middle ground between total censorship and the kind of free rein that puts vulnerable people in danger, and I strongly encourage the board of AO3 to seek this middle ground out.

But it’s the community itself that needs to shape up; AO3 is, after all, a community-led website built by fans for fans, so the fact that this website has such issues is a reflection of the issues that run deeply within the people who created it. Aku didn’t talk to me with the intention of doing me harm, or so I believe at this time, and she didn’t pursue me as a lone wolf or in isolation.

She was simply a particularly brazen member of a community that was used to having inappropriate conversations with young people and sexualising everything they did. Even people my own age were jokingly pushing me into discussing and consuming extremely sexual content. It was just normal. That’s what I want to say here. Inside the world of fandom on AO3, the grooming of children with sexual content is normal. And that’s scary.

- Mod Daft

[luvidzy]

muses | x.mh

☆ tct summer collection masterlist

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: xu minghao x reader

☆ summary: while spending your summer in a small town where your grandma lives, you meet another artist and photographer named minghao

☆ word count: 5.5k

Crystal blue waves lapped onto the golden shore, nearly drenching your toes in the water. You stared out at the large lake that your grandmother’s home town resided beside. Despite the fact that you had come here basically every summer since you were born, you never got tired of the lake. The ever-flowing motion of its waters, the endless squawks from seagulls flying overhead, and most importantly the people that surrounded the lake.

You smiled as you took out your phone, eager to take a picture that you could use as a reference for a painting or mural later. But for right now, you were plenty content roaming the familiar streets, letting the inspiration and sunlight soak in.

You found yourself walking to the local ice cream parlor, a cute little restaurant that had been around since the 60s. You walked in, letting the AC cool you down as you made your way to the counter.

“Y/N! Hello darling, what can I get you?” Mr. Han, the man that ran the parlor, smiled at you as you walked up. Mr. Han had run this shop since you could remember, always eager to serve you whatever ice cream you desired as a child.

“Hi, Mr. Han. The usual, if you don’t mind,” you replied, handing him the exact amount of money. You had ordered this treat so many times that you knew exactly the cost. Mr. Han smiled before moving behind the counter to prepare your usual ice cream order. Once the ice cream treat was safely in your hands, you waved Mr. Han goodbye before stepping out and heading to the pier.

Not many people frequented the pier, mostly fishermen or couples who just wanted to sit. You liked to come here to sketch and take photos, but also to just relax. It was a quiet place for you to think, uninterrupted except for your own thoughts. You made your way to the pier, ice cream already gone, but stopped when you noticed something, or someone, unusual.

Your grandma’s home town was small, so over the years you had been here you had met and were acquainted with all of the residents. Your grandma hadn’t mentioned any new people moving in, so your curiosity was piqued when you noticed an unfamiliar boy sitting at the edge of the pier, where you usually sat when you visited. As you moved closer, you noticed that the boy was holding a camera and was looking down at what you assumed to be a photo he just took.

“That’s a pretty photo,” you commented, leaning down slightly. The boy jumped ever so slightly, pressing his camera to his chest as you turned to face you. You were stunned at how attractive this new boy was. His skin was smooth, and he wore round glasses that made his sparkling eyes even bigger. His hair framed his face and he somehow managed to look both innocent and mature at once. You smiled at you straightened up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just haven’t seen you around before. Mind if I sit?” you asked. The boy gave a curt nod, scooching over slightly so you could plop down beside him, your feet dangling over the lake. 

“Anyway, that was a beautiful photo. This is one of the prettiest spots to take them, in my opinion,” you said, staring out at the lake. From the pier, you could see the sun hit the water, causing it to shimmer with its every move.

“Thank you. I just stumbled upon this place, but it’s gorgeous,” the boy finally spoke. You hummed in agreement before turning to him and placing your hand out.

“My name is Y/N,” you said. The boy smiled, reaching one hand out to shake yours. His handshake was firm, but his hands were warm and soft.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Minghao,” he said. You smiled. A cute name for a cute face.

“Hope I’m not intruding by asking, but do you live around here? You said I was unfamiliar,” Minghao asked. You smiled.

“Only in the summers. My grandma lives here, and I’ve been coming to spend summer with her since I was a baby. I know pretty much everyone in this town, but you looked new,” Minghao nodded.

“I see. Well, I’m just here for the summer as well. I go to college in the city, a couple of hours from here, and some of my friends thought it would be fun to go somewhere new over the summer for ‘inspiration’.” You giggled at his air quotes.

“Well, you chose the right town. This place has never let me down on the creativity and inspiration front. It may be small, but this place is overflowing with character,” you chirped, smiling warmly. You began to ramble on about your favorite areas of the town, from the ice cream parlor to the campgrounds, to the trolley service, to the hidden waterfalls in the forest.

You were so busy rambling that you didn’t notice how Minghao was staring at you, eyes glossy as you took in your features. He may have just met you, but you were already captivating him. From the way you flung your arms around wildly to emphasize your feelings, to the way you would laugh when remembering a funny memory at a certain place, it felt like it was impossible for Minghao to take his eyes off of you. He didn’t even hear when you stopped talking and turned to him, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit,” Minghao said, blinking a couple of times to bring himself back to reality. You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I asked if you wanted me to show you around tomorrow? I can show you some great places to take photos if you want,” you offered. Minghao nodded almost instantly.

“That sounds wonderful. Can I bring my friends along?” he asked, almost regretting the question the minute it escaped his mouth. 

“Of course, the more the merrier. We can meet at my grandma’s house. Here, give me your phone.” Minghao was quick to relinquish his phone to you, watching as you typed in your contact name and number.

“Text me and I’ll give you the address and the time,” you stated before standing up.

“I should get back home, it’s my night to make dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hao!” you exclaimed, smiling as you waved before rushing down the pier and out of sight. Minghao watched you leave, smiling to himself, and then proceeded to look back out to the lake, camera ready to take more pictures.

The next afternoon, you said goodbye to your grandma as you locked the door behind you. Minghao and his friends weren’t there yet, but you didn’t mind. You took this moment as an opportunity to take in the fresh air, the smell of the lake wafting from a distance away.  

“Y/N!” You turned towards the voice, smiling when you saw Minghao and a few new faces walking towards you.

“Hey, guys!” You exclaimed, waving at them. The group of boys stopped in front of you, all smiling at you warmly.

“These are my friends, Jun, Vernon, Chan, and Seungkwan.” He said, pointing to each boy as they were introduced. You waved to each of them, before introducing yourself.

“You guys ready to start your tour?” you asked. The boys nodded eagerly, prompting you to begin to walk down the sidewalk and towards the town. You made small talk with the boys, telling them little stories about your childhood summers spent in the town. Within a couple of minutes, you were standing in front of your first destination.

“Welcome to younger Y/N’s favorite spot: the candy store.” You smiled, opening the door. The candy shop was old fashioned in almost every way. The walls were painted a pastel pink color with cream accents and lined high with jars of different candies, along with center tables that also housed different candies and bags for holding the candies. A little bell rang as you stepped in, alerting Mrs. Dalton of your presence.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you dear!” Mrs. Dalton greeted from behind the counter. You gave her a soft smile and a wave before looking to the boys.

“Feel free to look around and buy anything you like. Some of the candies are common candy like the Reeses, but stuff like the salt-water taffy is all handmade by the Daltons!” you explained, gesturing to different things. The boys were instantly drawn to the candies, and you smiled as you watched them walk around, Minghao with his camera out and ready. You walked up to the counter and smiled at Mrs. Dalton.

“Do you have any of those homemade lollipops?” You asked. Mrs. Dalton gave you a sly smirk, before pulling a blue and white swirled lollipop out of a jar from behind the counter.

“Mr. Dalton made the blue ones just for you, dear.” You melted at the kindness of the older couple before handing Mrs. Dalton 5 dollars.

“Keep the change, Mrs. Dalton. And tell your husband thank you,” you said. The older woman smiled, and you turned your attention back to the boys, licking your lollipop. They were walking around, picking up and examining different sweets. You made eye contact with Minghao as he picked up a saltwater taffy, giving you a warm smile as he placed it in his bag.

After the boys bought some sweets, you exited the candy shop before heading to your next destination. Even though you had been there the day before, you still loved the ice cream parlor more than anything. You knew the minute you offered to show Minghao and his friends around that you needed to bring them to Han’s. Entering in for the second time that week, you smiled at Mr. Han.

“I’m back!” You joked, causing the man to laugh.

“This certainly is a very welcome and pleasant surprise. Can I get you the usual?”

“Sure. I’m gonna pay for these guys too.” You said, motioning to the 5 boys behind you. After giving their orders and paying, you got your ice cream and went to sit in one of the booths.

“This place is adorable,” Seungkwan commented, staring at the decor of the ice cream parlor as he ate his ice cream. You nodded, taking a bite of your treat. 

“This decor is the original decor from the 60s. My grandma said it has hardly changed since it was made.” You explained. Minghao had his camera out, taking different photos. That was when your attention was drawn to one of your favorite things.

“Jun, do you have a quarter?” you asked. Jun nodded, fishing the coin out of his pocket. With a bounce in your step, you made your way to the old fashioned jukebox that the parlor had. After depositing the change and selecting Island In the Sun by Weezer, you began to bop to the song, soon dragging Jun and Chan out to dance with you. The two laughed as you began to twist around, dragging them along with your dance moves. When the song finished, you laughed and smiled going back to the booth, unaware of Minghao’s fond gaze on you as you slid back into the booth next to him. 

With your ice cream finished, you guys headed out again, this time to a nearby trolly station. Walking into the small building, you greeted the worker with a smile, before asking for 6 tickets that would take you guys to the campgrounds. With a smile and a wave, you led the guys outside to where one of the trolleys was parked on the street waiting.

“Heya John! Is it just us?” you asked, boarding the red vehicle. John nodded, giving you a big grin.

“Yep! Just you guys,” John said. You sat down, the boys following suit before the trolley began its journey to the campgrounds. They weren’t too far away, but the trolly took the scenic route. This allowed you to point things out, sticking your hand out the window and pointing at different things here and there. It also gave Minghao an opportunity to take more photos. Fifteen minutes later you were in the forest, with the campgrounds sign in view.

“Thank you!” you called as John drove away, before leading the boys into the campgrounds and to a trail.

“I saved my favorite place for last,” you said, eyes sparkling as you led them farther from the campsite. After a bit of walking, you made a sharp turn into a small hidden lake in the forest, complete with a rushing waterfall.

“Damn, this is beautiful!” Vernon said, mouth slightly agape. You nodded before you set your small backpack down. With a swift movement, you took off your top to reveal a swimsuit underneath, before jumping into the lake.

When you emerged from the surface, you smiled at the guys and waved.

“Come on, the water’s great!” you exclaimed, splashing around a little bit. With no need for further coaxing, the boys set their stuff down and jumped in. Minghao waited a bit, using his camera to take photos of the scenery. You swam over to where he stood on the shore, pouting up at him.

“Come on, Hao. Before I have to pull you in,” you joked, splashing his legs a bit. Minghao smiled at you.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” You cheered as Minghao put the camera down before jumping in right next to you, splashing you completely. You rubbed your eyes as Minghao laughed.

“Oh, you are so on, Hao.” You and Hao laughed together as you splashed one another. Soon the other boys joined in, leaving you at the mercy of the 5 new boys that you had grown fond of in just a day.

After drying off, your group made its way back to town. You made your way back to your house, smiling at the group of boys.

“And that was my tour of the town. What did you think?” you asked, walking backward down the street. The boys smiled, raving on about their favorite parts of the town. Minghao smiled at you as you laughed at the boy's excitement.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this town never failed in the inspiration department. Thanks for showing us around,” Minghao said with a sincere expression. You flushed ever so slightly before nodding to him lightly.

“Anytime. I hope we can meet up again and hang out? I have an endless list of things we can do if you ever get bored,” you said. Minghao smiled.

“I’d like that.” Before you knew it, you were at the front door of your grandma’s house. Waving goodbye to the boys, you entered your house, letting out a breath as you felt your heart race. Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of Minghao and his smile out of your head.

When Minghao got back to the small cottage that they were staying in, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. For some reason, he couldn’t get you out of his head. His heart was flipping slightly, and the thought of your laugh and smile made him smile a little bit. It was a weird feeling for him. He hadn’t felt this way before. Forcing the thoughts out of his head, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next day he decided to go off alone. He loved his friends, but he wanted to find someplace quiet where he could sketch with his earbuds in and not be disturbed. After walking around the town for a bit, he found a park. Considering it was early, there weren’t any kids around. Spotting the swings, he walked over and sat down, letting his feet stabilize him. Pulling out his sketchbook and headphones, he looked up for something to draw.

The park had a surprisingly good view, with a few trees blocking the large lake in the distance. It was beautiful, and Minghao began sketching, letting his music flood his ears.

You had woken up earlier than usual with the feeling and need to get out of the house and do something. So, with your iPad and phone in your hands, you headed into town to find a nice place to sit and edit some photos you had taken recently. You were originally heading to a small cafe in town when you saw Minghao in a nearby park, sitting on the swings. With a small smile, you made your way over, tapping him on the shoulder.

He snapped his head to where you had tapped, smiling when he saw you staring down at him.

“Hey! What brings you here?” you asked, moving to sit in the swing next to him. He motioned down to his sketchbook. You leaned in for a moment, looking at the drawing. Your eyes scanned the carefully drawn lines, admiring the messy beauty that Minghao was creating.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, eyes stuck to the sketchbook. Minghao inhaled a little bit, heart beating. Why were your compliments making him feel this way? He held his breath until you moved away and flashed him a smile.

“Well, I hope I’m not bothering you. I was going to go to the cafe to edit some photos, but I’ll keep you company if you want,” you offered. Minghao felt himself nod before he could stop himself. You smiled happily, taking out your iPad and stylus to begin editing the photos you had taken. Minghao watched you delicately zoom in and photoshop clutter out of the photo. He stared down at his earbuds before holding one out.

“Wanna listen?” You looked down at his hands and smiled, accepting the earbud. You wiped it down a little bit, earning a chuckle from Minghao, before putting it in your ear. With music playing in both of your ears, each of you got back to work on your projects, enjoying the comfortable silence. 

After two hours of working, you and Minghao parted ways with a smile and a promise to see each other again soon. You smiled at your shoes as you walked, feeling giddy for a reason that was still foreign to you. All you knew was that you liked Minghao’s presence, and it made you happy. Minghao did the same thing as he walked the opposite direction, staring down at his sketchbook, happier with his work than he had ever been before.

Another week passed without seeing Minghao. You texted a bit, checking in and asking about his projects, but other than that you hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t until you walked into the local bookshop that you saw Minghao again. You were going to look for some new books to read when you noticed Minghao pursuing the fiction section. With a smile, you approached him.

“Finding anything good?” Minghao turned to look at you, a smile on his face.

“We keep running into each other it seems. And no, I haven’t found anything particularly good,” he said, motioning towards the shelves. He was stationed in front of the classic literature section. You smiled as you scanned the titles before pulling out Pride and Prejudice.

“Have you read this book yet?” you asked, handing it to him. He looked at the cover before shaking his head.

“Nope. I’ve heard of it before though.” 

“I highly recommend it. It is one of my favorite books of all time,” you said. Minghao smiled, clutching it to his chest.

“Then I guess I��ll have to read it,” he said. You gave him a wide smile before searching the shelves and pulling out a couple of titles that you liked. With books in hand, you and Minghao paid for your books and exited the store. You walked down the sidewalk together, bags in hand. You talked aimlessly, Minghao sharing stories about his friends and their chaos and you sharing stories about your college friends. It felt so natural to just talk to one another this way, and before you knew it, you were at the street where you needed to part.

“It was nice seeing you, Minghao!” you said, smiling at him.

“And it was nice seeing you. Text me later!” he said. With a wave and a nod, you walked away, head fuzzy and heart leaping with joy. Minghao smiled to himself and he walked away, his heart warm.

Another week went by with little conversation between you and Minghao. That was until you finally got the guts to ask if he wanted to read together at the cafe in town. After agreeing on a date and time, you and Minghao met up at the cafe with your choice of book. Minghao smiled as he sat down with his coffee, Pride and Prejudice in hand. You sat across from him, your book in hand along with your coffee. You both fell into a comfortable silence, flipping pages of your book every couple of minutes.

After a while, you started sneaking glances at Minghao. He looked good with his glasses perched on his nose, sharp eyes gliding along the words written in the book. His hair fell ever so slightly onto his forehead, and every so often he would take a sip of his coffee without looking up. For some reason seeing him like this made you feel weird. Like you wanted to vomit but in a good way. And that’s when it hit you, like a truck going full speed.

You were falling for Minghao.

You anxiously looked down at your book, suddenly feeling very flushed and nervous. You took a couple of deep breaths, hoping that you could calm down your suddenly beating heart and pumping blood. 

Minghao was also sneaking peeks at you from across the table. He loved the way you muttered under your breath about the plot or the characters. Every now and then you would reach for your coffee, hand grabbing towards it before you finally found and lifted it. Occasionally you would brush your hair out of your face, allowing Minghao to see your entire face. Watching you and all your habits made him smile. His heart jumped and he wanted nothing more than to watch you do that all the time. And that is when it hit Minghao, like a car hitting a bug.

He was falling for you.

He inhaled sharply at the realization before shaking his head and looking back at his book. He resisted the urge to look at you now and again, afraid that his heart might burst if he looked at you anymore. 

After an hour of reading in silence, you and Minghao both decided to stop reading, though you didn’t tell each other that the reason was that you were both too distracted by the other to get any actual reading done. Books in hand, you and Minghao made your way to the pier where you had met. The sun was still high in the sky but the pier was relatively empty, save for a few fishermen. 

You and Minghao walked to the end, sitting down so your feet were hanging over the water. Neither of you talked, both afraid that any words you said would come out an incoherent jumbled mess. Besides, the silence wasn’t awkward, in fact, it was quite nice. For someone like Minghao, it was rare to meet someone who he felt comfortable not talking with. He usually felt obligated to keep up a conversation, but with you, he felt at ease just sitting and admiring the view. 

You both sat there for a moment, lost in your own thoughts and hyperaware that you were sitting next to someone so beautiful and amazing. Minghao went to set his hand down but recoiled quickly when he placed his large hand on top of yours. You both flushed, looking away to hide your obvious embarrassment and leaping hearts. Before the situation could get any more awkward, you leaped up from your spot, book in hand.

“I should probably go. My grandma is probably waiting for me. I’ll see you later, Hao,” you said, trying not to fumble over your words before rushing down the pier and back home. Minghao stared at you as you left, mind completely overrun with thoughts of you. 

That night you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned in the guest bedroom you were inhabiting for the summer, but no matter what, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was awake, racing with ideas, and your hands were itching for you to make something. As the morning birds began chirping and the soft sunlight began breaking over the horizon, you gave up on sleep.

You walked into the kitchen, made yourself a coffee, and went to the garage. The garage was home to your art supplies over the summer, storing your chalks, paints, easels, and everything in between. Taking your bucket full of different chalks, you and your coffee made your way to the backyard. The backyard of the house had a large slab of concrete where the porch was supposed to be, but your grandma never used it so it remained empty. You tied your hair out of your face before getting to work.

Honestly, you didn’t have a plan for the piece of art you were making. Usually, you sketched something out first, but your brain was controlling your hands at this point, making wide strokes and small strokes, forming a piece of art almost mindlessly. Between sips of coffee and the sun rising, your hands slowly became stained with different colors of chalk. 

After a couple of hours of work, you finally stared down at your art and your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized earlier, but the strokes of chalk in various shades of pastel pink, blue, and yellow had come together to form an image of a familiar boy on the pier. You blushed as you stared down at it, before brushing it off. Minghao wouldn’t ever see it anyway, so what was the problem?

You jumped slightly as your phone rang. Retrieving the device from your back pocket, you sighed as you attempted to press the answer button without getting chalk on your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N?” Minghao’s voice rang clear through the phone. You froze, eyes stuck on the chalk drawing in front of you.

“Uh, hey Hao. What’s up?” you asked. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I was gonna go through the photos and I’d love to get your opinion on them,” Hao said. You smiled to yourself, feeling your heart jump a little bit in your chest.

“I’d love to. Give me a couple of minutes, I just got done doing a mural so I need to wash up.” You explained, staring down at the mess of chalk on your clothes and skin. Hao laughed.

“No problem. I’d love to see the mural sometime.” You froze again, your brain rebooting as you tried to figure out what to say next.

“Uh yeah, okay. Send me the address and I’ll be there soon,” you said before hanging up. You let out a large sigh, trying to regain your breath and thoughts. You were about to head inside when the mural caught your eye again. Eyeing it for a few seconds, you pulled up your phone camera and took a photo of it.

After you showered and got yourself presentable (which took way more time than it should have), you were on your way to the cottage. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your grandma’s house, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend a majority of the walk stressing about seeing Minghao. 

It was weird. Before, everything had been fine. You’d texted like friends who had known each other for ages, you felt at ease with him even when it was silent, and overall you felt comfortable in his presence. All of that was still true, but somehow it all felt different knowing that you liked him.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking as you approached the cottage door. Vernon answered the door, asking you how you’d been. You made small talk, telling him about your latest baking adventures and some new art projects. You didn’t bring up the mural. Vernon kept talking with you while he led you to Minghao’s room. He left after guiding you, giving you a wink which only made you more nervous.

Gently pushing the door open, you spotted Minghao sitting on the floor in casual clothing, back against the edge of the bed and glasses once again perched on his nose. His laptop was sitting on his lap and his slender fingers were clicking away at the keys and mousepad. He looked up as he heard the door open, smiling softly as he noticed it was you.

“Hey! Come here, I wanna show you some photos,” he said, patting the carpet next to him. You quickly scrambled to sit next to him, aware of the way his arm pressed against yours when you looked at his computer screen. The screen was covered with photos of different parts of town, from the pier to the candy shop. You smile as you observe each photo, Minghao clicking through them.

“Hao, these are gorgeous,” you said, stunned by how beautiful the photos were. He smiled.

“Thanks.” He continued to click and it wasn’t until he clicked forward and quickly clicked back that you sent him a questioning gaze.

“What’s the matter?” The photo that you had seen for a second looked like just another photo of the scenery the town had to offer, but the look on Minghao’s face made it seem like it was a crime.

“Nothing. Those photos aren’t finished anyway.” He said, quickly, but before he could stop you, you reached over and clicked the next arrow. Your eyes widened at the sight you were met with.

It was you. The photo was of you at the candy shop, holding the blue and white swirl lollipop and smiling like there wasn’t a care in the world. You had never thought you could look so beautiful, but the way Minghao captured you made it look like you were an angel. You unconsciously pressed the forward arrow again, revealing more photos of you from throughout the trip. A photo of you dancing with Chan and Jun at the ice cream parlor. A photo of you laughing as you ate your ice cream. A photo of you at the window of the trolley, hair blowing, and a content smile on your face. A few photos of you as you led them through the forest and last but not least some photos of you in the secret lake, the water sparkling around you, but you seemingly sparkling more.

“Hao…” You were speechless. These photos were stunning, but why had Minghao chosen you as a muse?

“I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so carefree that day. Everywhere we went you had a smile on your face and you looked like an angel. I figured it would be a missed opportunity to not take some photos of you. Originally I was only gonna take some at the candy store, but I loved you in those photos so much that I had to take more,” Hao explained, his voice tense from nerves. You stared at him, shocked. He thought you were beautiful? You smiled softly at him.

“Well, I guess we are both each other’s muses,” you said. Minghao furrowed his brows in confusion while you pulled your phone out. You quickly pulled up your mural from this morning and showed it to him. His eyes sparkled as he took in the chalk mural that you had made. It was so intricate, yet stylistic. He was drawn in different shades of pastel, almost like a stained glass window made of chalk.

“I couldn’t sleep last night cause my brain was itching to do something. I woke up and started to make this mural, but I wasn’t really thinking about it when I made it. My brain just drew the lines the way my heart wanted them to be. It wasn’t until I was finished I realized that it was you,” you explained, face heating up as you tried to explain yourself to him. He looked up from the phone to you, before smiling.

“Well, this makes me less nervous to tell you that I like you. I think I’ve liked you since we first met, but I didn’t realize till we were at the coffee shop,” Minghao admitted. You let out a small chuckle.

“I like you too, Minghao. Maybe tonight, we can go on a proper date?” You asked. Minghao nodded happily.

“I’d like that very much,” he said. You smiled as you felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, bringing you in close. You cuddled into his chest, feeling weightless. The nervousness that was there before was gone, leaving only the content feeling of love in its place.

This town had never left you dry for inspiration, and you think that this town finally brought you your forever muse.

[ashestoashesjc]

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend On A Couple's Retreat

Short Story 1/2/(3)/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

"RrRRrrrr... grrr? <Hey, uh, babe... seen my arm anywhere?>" rang Sett's voice throughout their cigar box of a house as he rummaged through closets, opened cabinets, overturned couch cushions. 

Shutting and latching the front door behind him, Ulrick began flipping through the stack of envelopes clutched in his right hand. "Huh? Oh…”

“Okay, so… don’t get mad,” Ulrick began, as meekly and guilt-tinged as one can make a shout. “But... there was this huge, I mean HUGE silverfish…” 

“GRrrr! Rrrrr. <Dude! Not cool,>” could be heard as Sett stomped his way to the foyer. 

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m weak!” moaned Ulrick. 

Sett sighed as he entered the cove and laid his single remaining hand on Ulrick’s left shoulder, the other sleeve draped flaccidly at his side. “Grrrr. <Well, yeah.>” he said. Ulrick snickered. 

“You know, having your boyfriend kill a bug for you is exceedingly normal,” Ulrick said, separating the bills from the letters that weren’t bills. There were very few that weren’t bills. “Almost conventional.” 

“Rrr. <True,>” Sett replied. “Rggrrrr. <Probably while the arm’s still attached, though.>”

“A mere quibble.” 

“Rrrrgrrr? <So, where is it now?>” Sett asked. 

“Ugh. Still getting cozy with the silverfish, I’d imagine,” Ulrick admitted, guilt creeping back into his voice. He covered his eyes with his free hand and shuddered. “In… the shower.”

Sett sucked air through his teeth in a compassion-filled cringe. 

“Yeah,” Ulrick sighed, resigned to his trauma. 

“Grrrr. <Don’t worry,>” said Sett. “Rraarr. <I got it.>” 

Ulrick slid his hand down his face with a grateful groan. “God, I love you.” Sett pulled him forward by his collar and pecked his forehead.

Continuing to sort through the mail, Ulrick came to a red envelope and, seeing it addressed to Sett, handed it over. “Looks important.”

Confusion clouded Sett’s eyes for the first few, slow moments spent undoing the envelope’s seal flap, until suddenly, a surge of realization like lightning drove him to violently tear the crimson paper away.

As he scanned the contents of the letter contained within, words failing to do his emotional state justice, Sett began to fist pump wildly, God help anyone in the flight path of his singular elbow. Ulrick looked on in entranced bewilderment.

“Was there itching powder in that envelope?” asked Ulrick.

Sett shoved the creased letter in Ulrick’s face, his manic energy not yet dissipated. Ulrick took it and held it out at arm’s length until his eyes brought the words into focus. 

“A couple’s retreat?” he wondered aloud, lowering the paper enough to peer over the top at Sett.  

“Grrgrrrr. <An all-expenses paid couple’s retreat.> Rrrrrr. <At a swanky resort.> GrrrrRr. <Complete with water skis.>”

“This is from a contest?” he asked, rotating and inspecting the sheet. “When did we enter a contest?”

“Rrggrrrr? <You know those entry slips we’re getting in the post all the time?>”

“The ones I’m always throwing away? I’m familiar.” 

“RrrRrrrrr ggrrrr. <Well, your aim could use some work, because some of them wind up in the mailbox,>” said Sett, with a shrug.

The sound that next filled the room, colored with exasperated mirth, was one Sett was used to Ulrick making, though one that never stopped bringing a flush of heat to the place where his heart used to be. 

He grabbed Ulrick by the hips and the two began to sway back and forth. “Rrrrrr. <Just imagine it,>” he purred dreamily. “GrrrRRrrrr rrrrRrrr grrr...arrrr? <Massages, rock-climbing, a luau. And… did I mention waterskiing?>”

Swaying still, Ulrick looked up with his head cocked. "I've... never heard you mention waterskiing before."

"GrrRrrrrrr. <I enjoy a lot of things I don't talk about.> Rgrrrrgrrr. <Like country music, or bad chick lit,>" Sett said before twirling and dipping Ulrick in a blur. "Rraarrrr. <I'm a multi-layered zombie.>"

Breaking clumsily away from the songless dance and squeezing the bridge of his nose, Ulrick set down the remainder of the mail on the side table by the entrance and looked his boyfriend over. “It’s totally free?”

“Grrarrr. <It’s totally free,>” confirmed Sett. 

Ulrick raised an eyebrow. “No catch?” 

“Rrr… <Well…>”

-

“And streeetch! That’s right! Streeetch!” 

At the front of Meadow Grove Resort’s famed yoga studio balanced - one foot planted on the ground, the other hooked deftly behind her neck - Chrysanthemum Smith, a remarkably limber 60-year-old instructor, urging her out-of-shape contest winning students to achieve the same feats of flexibility.   

All around Ulrick and Sett, a pretzel factory’s soon-to-be-discarded collection of heinous, gnarly undesirables had been given life in the form of sweaty middle Americans. 

That pretzels went through a less agonizing process being baked at 500 degrees was a fact Ulrick was both confident in and envious of. His legs were angled in a way he was sure he’d feel for weeks to come. 

Sett, on the other hand, had apparently been a contortionist in a past life, the way he bent himself into poses, well, a pretzel would gawk at, holding each position stoically before moving gracefully on to the next. It also helped that he couldn’t feel what would leave most tendons shredded rags.

Ulrick gave up the pursuit of dislocating his pelvis and instead went to poke Sett in the cheek. Through his mask, Sett made a chomping motion at the finger, though remained otherwise totally still. "Okay, but this kind of bites, right?" Ulrick signed. 

"A little. And not in the fun way," Sett signed back.

On a pair of blue, rubber mats to their left were two women - one in a biker's jacket and tattered, patched jeans, short red hair tied into a haphazard ponytail; the other a dark woman donning a shaved head, flower-patterned maxi dress, and combat boots - the former of whom suddenly grabbed Ulrick's attention with a nod. 

"You're telling me," she signed. 

And in an instant, they were no longer alone in the hazy, secluded sphere that made their reality.

So taken aback was he that he blurted aloud, "You sign?" 

The yoga instructor shushed him from her place at the head of the wide room, leading him to duck down sheepishly. With the forced inclusion of an overly casual air, he said more than asked, "You sign."

"Oh, yeah," the woman chuckled gruffly. "Mom's Deaf." 

Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Sett's head swiveled to the leather jacket-clad woman. "Shit yeah!" he signed with fervor, eliciting a harsh snort from the woman. The instructor's head whipped around to glare her way, but went ignored. 

Sett's hands jumbled for a moment before he continued. "I mean, I'm sure that must have been very difficult for your family and--"

She gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's capital 'D' Deaf. A congenital thing. Whole family's been signing forever."

Her wife - Jen, they later learned - chimed in with, "Di does it at home, too. She's taught me half the lyrics to Boys for Pele." 

"Wow!" Ulrick said with teeth-clenching enthusiasm. "That's so great! Isn't that so great, Sett?"

The mask did nothing to conceal Sett's raised, beaming features. "That's so great!" he signed. 

"I'm sorry!" bellowed the lithe yogi, shattering all delusions of serenity. "Am I boring you?" 

Several overlapping voices came to the general consensus of "Christ, yes."

One of the husbands, portly and somewhat resembling the famously affable capybara, asked, somewhat less affably, why they were being stretched into taffy when they should be outside taking one-on-one lessons with the beach volleyball instructor. He was joined by a few surly “yeah!”s. 

They were met with an unimpressed crossing of the arms. Though it should be noted Smith’s foot was still being held comfortably behind her head. 

"I would suggest, in the future, that you more closely scrutinize contest entries," Yogi Smith advised in as calm a manner as it seemed she could now manage, though with an unmistakable edge to her voice. "In order to partake in our facility’s more... physically involved activities, you’ll first need to align and cleanse your mental, emotional, and spiritual energies.”

This provoked a studio-wide groan, with the exclusion of Jen, who seemed just eager enough to cancel out the cloud of grim impatience encircling her. 

“Unless, of course,” Smith said, shifting poses to something favoring the letter ‘G’, “you’d prefer to construct your own schedules. In which case, a full price admission to Meadow Grove Resort remains available.”

She sleekly extended her right leg, pointing its foot pin-straight toward the sliding studio doors. “Don’t, as the masters of yore were wont to say, let the door hit ya.” 

When no one moved and the room went quiet enough to hear an acupuncture needle drop, Smith resumed a standing position and bowed three times to each division of the studio. “Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.” 

Chrysanthemum Smith had in no way undersold how ‘aligned and cleansed’ couple’s therapy and its airings of dirty laundry and subsequent ferocious dissolutions of decades of marriage; couple’s pottery, the same thing but with clay vases; and couple’s finger-painting, a bonding exercise in shared humiliation, would make their minds, emotions, and souls through sheer gut-rending hilarity.

Ulrick almost didn’t want to stop watching people who, hours ago, seemed all confidence and bravado, now being brought to tears by an instructor’s criticism of their macaroni art lacking ‘depth.’ 

But their confinement was over and they were free to roam the grounds as they saw fit and Sett, without even feigning to look for a map of the resort, made a beeline for the largest body of water (and the largest gathering of humans) he could sniff. Ulrick was still surprised at times by how agile Sett could be on his feet when on the hunt for blood - or recreational watersports - and struggled to keep up. 

Their long-awaited waterskiing adventure began almost as soon as they arrived at the lakeside, the instructor needing a volunteer at that instant to man the skis while he lectured another guest on the controls of the boat. At nearly a head taller than anyone else present, Sett didn’t need much more than a raised hand to stand out. 

Things were going great; Sett mounted on skis as long as he was tall, the boat revving greedily for take off. At Sett’s thumbs up, the runabout hammered off in a thunderous roar. And then, all at once, things were going wrong. 

The envisioned majesty of skimming the motionless calm of the crystal river was halted abruptly with a leaden Sett stumbling mid-lake in his skis, trying and failing to correct himself, going feet-over-head, and sinking like an anchor to the agitated silt of the riverbed below. 

Ulrick, though he jumped with concern at the first hint of a misstep, expected a brief swim back, perhaps slowed a bit - but not much - by Sett's stoney limbs. He’d been the star diver of his local swimming hole as a teen and still maintained some of the underwater dexterity, though nowadays tended to lurk the floors of bodies of water like a carnivorous bottom-feeder; eating habits included.

But then a few minutes passed, and nothing. A lifeguard and two of the more experienced swimmers among the guests plunged into the river and searched for fifteen minutes, cracking the surface now and again for a gulp of air, all to no avail. The water was too cloudy with sediment to see past a certain depth, and the orange-purples of dusk were beginning to settle in. They'd need to return in the morning with a diving team.

It'd now been forty-five minutes, and three of the resort’s other guests were consoling Ulrick, one herself on the verge of waterworks. They'd just witnessed a man - someone's significant other - torn tragically from life's teat, and in front of the man he loved, no less. 

Ulrick, for his part, was positively miffed. 

"When I get my hands on him..." Ulrick started, before one of the grievers tossed him a teary-eyed questioning look. "Er, that is... would that I could only put my hands on him... again..." he corrected. 

Just as Ulrick had begun mentally reviewing the basics of the Arts of Throttling, a movement, barely noticeable, shook the surface of the lake. Then bubbles, then the full break of the water as a head rose into view. Then the screams of onlookers as, in the fading light, a ghastly lake monster began its murderous approach. Then screams of a different kind as people began to make the connection proper. Then there was weeping, fainting, more than one declaration of faith renewed. It was a miracle!

Later, after insistences for medical attention were politely but firmly refused and the religious stragglers begging for just a smell of Sett’s waterlogged clothes were shooed away, Ulrick asked why he waited so long to resurface, to which Sett said, "GrrrrRRrr. <Well, at first I was just sort of embarrassed.> RrrrrrrGrrrRrrr? <Then I thought, "How often do these people see miracles?>"

"Oh, sure," groaned Ulrick. "A man comes out of a lake after half an hour and it's a miracle. A man comes out of a grave after a few months and it's "Grab the torches and pitchforks, everyone!""

"Rrrr. <Babe.>"

Ulrick gave a pouty grumble. "I'm just saying. One's a little more miraculous, is all." 

Sett pulled Ulrick's head into his chest and stroked his hair. "GrrrRrrrRrrr. <Shh, I know, dude, I know.>" His heavy, soaked clothes and lack of body heat didn't chill Ulrick as much as they should have, and though a fine coating of sand covering him from head to toe gritted against Ulrick's cheek, it only made Ulrick rub his face in rebelliously. 

"Okay," Ulrick said, resting his fists on Sett's chest and gazing up into his eyes. "What's the next activity? I think we’re... due-au for a luau?" The moment the words left his lips, his face collapsed into disgusted regret.

“Rgrrr... <Actually…>” Sett said, wrenching off his mask and shaking the excess water from his hair, teasing a blush out of Ulrick. “GgrrrRrrrr? <Doesn’t watching the stars by the lake sound pretty relaxing?>”

Ulrick grinned and took a seat on the shoreline, running his hands through the tufts of ryegrass stretching out in waves around him. He tapped a spot to his right and Sett, half-cocked smile in tow, came lumbering over to take it. 

Hours flurried past, changing nothing about the image of the intimately silent pair but the number of stark white pinpricks in the sky they beheld. 

They threatened to sit silently basking in each other forever. 

And then Sett said, “GRrrrrgrrr, rrgrrr, graargrr. <So, Diane and Jen gave me their number, and they want to plan an outing.>” 

Unease shot through Ulrick’s veins, but he held his tongue in search of the correct words. “O-oh?” 

“Grrr? Rrgrrrrr. <Isn’t that cool? People want to spend time with us,>” said Sett, ensorcelled with the twinkle of every new star. “Rrrrr. <With me.>”

“That might be…” began Ulrick, before noticing the glimmer in Sett’s eyes and faint lift at the corners of his mouth as he stared up towards a great unknown. He sighed. “It’s going to be great.” 

Sett rested his hand on Ulrick’s, their fingers interlocking. He smiled, and the two gazed into an ever-darkening firmament, speckled with a thousand stars and a thousand futures. 

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

The whole age thing cracks me up. That is cracks me up as in has me laughing, not cracks me up as in lines on my face. What regularly gets me laughing is comments from others that make me aware that they must see me as being old or of a certain age. It brings home to me the fact that I don’t experience myself in that way and the amusement is at the absurdity of it all. I have many friends that range in age from less than 8 to over 80 years old. To me they are all people and I don’t really see them as different. Yes, the 8-year-old is a bit more robust with a football than the 80-year-old, and the 80-year-old has more business experience, but at essence they are all people with ageless wisdom. In a certain number of years, I will die (as will we all) and then come back again and by then the 8-year-old will be much older than me as we each go around and around in our cycles. So, it is really a question of where each of us is on our cycle at any given time. I am currently 60 years of age and my business partner Nikki is in her 30s. What triggered me to write this was my having a meeting with my regional bank manager yesterday who asked me if Nikki was my daughter. That made me realize that I must look a lot older than Nikki which I regularly forget. One reason I forget that I look older is because I feel more vital, healthy and alive than I ever did in my life. When I look in the mirror I see love, joy and playfulness shining back at me. It never used to be like that. When I was a teenager and in my 20s, I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror and often felt heavy and exhausted. These days I work 7 days a week and am on the go all day starting at about 3.30am every day. I absolutely love my work, husband, friends, life, colleagues and all the many projects I am involved in. I love being in my 60s which so far is the best ever because I have also reached a level of wisdom and space where I rarely react, have a huge amount of life experience and don’t have any personal issues anymore. Yes, stuff comes up from time to time, but I deal with it and don’t see it as an issue but an opportunity to evolve. I know a woman in her 20s who is like that too so it is not necessary to wait until 60 to be a wise elder and of course many make it into their later years without wisdom and understanding. So yes, the reality is that my body is aging gracefully and I have no inclination to kick a football around, and clearly I must look physically oldish to people (maybe it is my grey hair) but on another level, we are all as ageless and wise as we allow ourselves to be.

Nicola L., Australia, joyofageing.com

[crowdvscritic]

round up // JANUARY 21

New year, not-so-new Crowd vs. Critic! It’s another batch of films, TV, music, and reads that were new to me this month and think you would enjoy, too. As we cozy up inside for the winter, nothing warms you up like a good piece of pop culture.

January Crowd-Pleasers

Wonder Woman 1984 (2020)

Does this sequel reach the heights of 2017’s Wonder Woman? No, but I wish more superhero movies were like this one. I explain why at ZekeFilm. Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 8/10

21 Bridges (2019)

A solid action crime thriller with a solid Chadwick Boseman at the center. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

The Lethal Weapon Series (1987-98)

I watched the first Lethal Weapon in 2017 for ZekeFilm, but now I’ve a decade’s pleasure of progressively over-the-top action sequences and progressively more absurd ways to destroy Roger Murtaugh’s (Danny Glover) house. The Murtaugh/Riggs bromance holds this progressively sillier series together, and an supporting cast of charismatic actors (Jet Li, Darlene Love, Chris Rock, Rene Russo) are game for whatever comes their way. Joe Pesci is the true MVP. Series Crowd: 9/10 // Series Critic: 7/10

The High Note (2020)

Tracee Ellis Ross’s Grace Davis is a diva in every sense of the word. A high-strung and highly successful singer, she’s also highly demanding of her assistant Maggie (Dakota Johnson), who wants to step out of her shadow and become a music producer. This rom-com-adjacent flick is one of the most fun escapes I’ve had from a 2020 movie, and it’s perfect for a girls’ night in. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10

Double Feature—Rom-Coms With a Magical Twist: Just My Luck (2006) + When In Rome (2010)

Disclaimer: These movies are not good. In fact, they’re junk, but they’re my kind of junk. In Just My Luck (Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 6/10), Lindsay Lohan loses her life-long lucky streak when she kisses schlimazel Chris Pine. And When in Rome (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10), Kristen Bell attracts unwanted admirers (Will Arnett, Danny DeVito, Josh Duhamel, Jon Heder, and real-life future husband Dax Shepard) after she steals their coins from a wishing fountain. To their credit, both of these movies know they’re silly, which means you have permission to just sit back and laugh along with (or, honestly, at) them.

WandaVision (2021)

I sometimes fear for the world of entertainment when I think of how much intellectual property Disney has gobbled up, but WandaVision is evidence the company is a benevolent dictator at least for now. This odd delight is a send up and a tribute to sitcoms like I Love Lucy, I Dream of Jeannie, and The Brady Bunch, and Paul Bettany and Elizabeth Olsen are so charming and weird I don’t need whatever mysterious sub-plot they’re building.

Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

If you want to make the most of watching Robin Hood: Men in Tights, first watch Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991), an action flick I saw last February and didn’t include in my monthly Round Up. This Mel Brooks spoof is a direct response that self-serious Kevin Costner adventure, even down to copying its costumes. While I wish I could find a Mel Brooks comedy with any substantial female character (in every movie I’ve seen so far, the joke is either, “She’s got a great rack!” or “Wow, she’s an uggo!”), I still couldn’t stop laughing at this 104-minute version of the Robin Hood scene in Shrek. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10

Aliens (1986)

Peak ‘80s action. Peak alien grossness. Peak girl boss Sigourney Weaver. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/.510

Big (1988)

After talking about Laverne & Shirley with Kyla on SO IT’S A SHOW?, I had to check out Penny Marshall’s classic. While a few moments haven’t aged so well, its heart is sweet and the script is hilarious. And that Tom Hanks? I think he’s going places. Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 8/10

Unstoppable (2010)

I’ve laughed at SNL’s spoof of this movie for a decade, so it’s about time I got around to enjoying this action thriller very loosely based on the true story of a train that got away from its conductor. Denzel Washington (“You’re too old!”) and Chris Pine (“You’re too young!”) are our heroes in this over-the-top ridiculousness, and their chemistry is so extra it makes me hope they team up for another movie again. Crowd:  9/10 // Critic: 7/10

January Critic Picks

Double Feature—‘90s Space Adventures: Apollo 13 (1995) + Contact (1997)

I have no desire to join Tom Cruise as he films in space, but I know I’ll be pumped to watch whatever he makes because I love sci-fi and space  adventures. Apollo 13 (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 9/10) tells the story of an almost-disastrous NASA mission in the ‘60s, and it taps into our hope for the human spirit to overcome obstacles. Contact (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10) surmises what might happen if we received communication from extraterrestrial life, and it taps into our struggle to reconcile faith and science.

McCartney III by Paul McCartney (2020)

I spent January catching up on the albums on Best of 2020 lists, and the one I listened to for hours and hours was Paul McCartney’s latest solo album. Catchy, thoughtful, and musically surprising, it ranges from pop to rock to folk in 45 minutes and still feels like it’s over too soon. Like Tom Hanks, this Paul McCartney guy is going places!

The Thin Man Series (1934-47)

Like Lethal Weapon, I watched the first installment of The Thin Man awhile back, and Kyla and I even covered the series on our podcast. But thanks to a full series marathon on TCM earlier this month, I’ve now laughed through all five. When you talk about great chemistry, you’ve got to talk about William Powell and Myrna Loy, who make Nick and Nora’s marriage feel lived in and romantic as they solve crimes together. Witty, suspenseful, and jaunty, this series is still sexy cool over 80 years later. (Also, Asta? Still one of the cutest dogs in cinema.) Series Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

The King and I (1956)

Here’s your regularly scheduled reminder Hollywood works differently now, and many casting decisions of the ‘50s wouldn’t fly today. What has aged well in this film: The Rodgers and Hammerstein music and the sumptuous costumes and set design. I love extravagant musicals of yesteryear—perhaps it’s time for Hollywood to revisit and remake The King and I for modern audiences?

Inauguration Day

In a year with no major televised events with celebrities in a room together, Inauguration Day felt like the most exciting cultural event in ages. We’ve been missing major fashion, but then we got Lady Gaga! We’ve been missing live performances, but then we got Amanda Gorman! And I got a lot of tears during that poem—not just me, right?

Good Reads

Writing that made me think and smile this month:

Steven Soderbergh’s list of everything he read, watched, and listened to this year, Extension765.com (2020) – An indirect inspiration for these monthly Round Ups!

“My Year of Making Lists,” NewYorker.com (2020) – I made a lot of lists in 2020, so I feel this author’s #mood

“Betty White Says She Will Spend Her 99th Birthday Feeding Two Ducks Who Visit Her ‘Every Day,’“ CBSNews.com (2021) - “Betty is a treasure,” I say as I watch The Proposal for the 99th time

“A Sculpture’s Unusual Journey to SLAM [St. Louis Art Museum],” SLAM.org (2020) – With a casual mention of an attraction I never knew about in St. Louis

“The Culture Is Ailing. It’s Time for a Dr. Fauci for the Arts.” WashingtonPost.com (2020) – An idea that occurred to me a few months ago: Why don’t we have an Arts Cabinet?

“The Arts Are in Crisis. Here’s How Biden Can Help.” NYTimes.com (2021) – Partly in response to that Washington Post piece, a historical look at how artists have made it through difficult times in the past and how we can revive artists’ livelihoods mid- and post-pandemic

“The Right’s Message to Silicon Valley: 'Free Speech for Me, But Not for Thee,'” TIME.com (2021) – A more thoughtful and less reactionary take on a volatile moment in the history of modern technology

“'It Makes Me Sick With Grief': Trump's Presidency Divided Families. What Happens to Them Now?” TIME.com (2021) – A study on how politics has done damage to family dynamics in America

“Help, the Only Cinema I Can Handle Is Zac Efron Prancing Angrily in High School Musical 2,” Vulture.com (2021) - In a lot of ways, same

“50 Easy Things To Do When You are Anxious,” ShopTwentySeven.com (2021) – I especially endorse coloring, puzzling, and watching happy movies!

Double Feature—Miss Marple Mysteries: Murder at the Gallop (1963) + Murder Ahoy (1964)

Remember when I was all like, “Watch these Agatha Christie movies so you’re not sad Death on the Nile is delayed”? Remember when I said I was just a few movies away from becoming an Agatha Christie junkie? Well, I think I’m there because I can’t stop with the murder mysteries! Margaret Rutherford is a treasure whether she’s solving a murder at a horse ranch or on a boat, and a cast of colorful supporting characters (including Rutherford’s husband) makes these breezy instead of heavy. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8/10

8½ (1963)

File this with 2001: A Space Odyssey—I don’t know if I really understood this film, but I think I liked it? Federico Fellini’s surrealist, male gaze-y drama blurs the lines between reality and imagination, love and dysfunction, and the past and maybe some future that involves clowns? What resonated with me was the story of a director with creative block, wondering if he’s already peaked and if he’ll create anything worthwhile again. Crowd: 6/10 // Critic: 9/10

Sense and Sensibility: The Screenplay and Diaries by Emma Thompson (1995)

Sense and Sensibility is not just one of my favorite Jane Austen adaptations—it’s one of my all-time favorite films. One of the co-hosts of one of my favorite podcasts has raved many-a-time about Emma Thompson’s journals from the making of film, so it was only a matter of time before I read them myself. Witty, informative, and all-around lovely, Thompson’s journals are an excellent insight into the filmmaking process and how novels are adapted.

Also in January…

I reviewed the new-ish documentary Flannery for ZekeFilm, which is all about the writer Flannery O’Connor and feels a little like going back to high school English class.

In addition to the Lethal Weapon and Thin Man series, I rewatched all of the X-Men series this month. You can see everything I am watching on Letterboxd, including favorites I love returning to (i.e. X-Men: Days of Future Past) and the movies I try that don’t make my monthly recommendations (i.e. The Wolverine).

Photo credits: Paul McCartney, Zac Efron, Sense & Sensibility. All others IMDb.com.

[aion-rsa]

Anya Taylor-Joy Infiltrates the Boys’ Club of Chess in The Queen’s Gambit

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Netflix’s period piece miniseries The Queen’s Gambit spans a decade in the life of fictional chess prodigy Beth Harmon (Anya Taylor-Joy), a wunderkind whose natural aptitude for anticipating her opponents’ moves is blunted by her addiction to the tranquilizer pills with which she credits her wins. Following gawky teenage Beth through her early tournaments in the 1950s to the aloof redheaded beauty wowing spectators in Europe in the ’60s—and leaving a trail of defeated men in her wake—the seven-hour series was faced with the challenge of making every chess scene equally thrilling to enthusiasts and non-fans alike.

The key, Taylor-Joy explains to Den of Geek, was in having every single game be recognizably unique. “[Series creator and director] Scott [Frank] and I would have a lot of conversations about both the chess and the addiction scenes, and how we were going to make each of them different and each of them fresh,” she says. “Because this show is seven and a half hours, and if a lot of that is the same chess game, people are gonna wander off.”

The cast and crew imbued each chess match with specific emotion, matching Beth’s personal and professional growth, and unique physicality. For the latter, that involved bringing in chess consultant Bruce Pandolfini (who also consulted on Walter Tevis’ 1983 novel on which the series is based) and grandmaster Garry Kasparov to plan out the series’ many games down to every gambit and checkmate. Because neither Taylor-Joy nor her on-screen competitors had played much chess prior to shooting, treating the gameplay as choreography helped them pick up the moves.

“I saw the whole thing as a dance,” explains Taylor-Joy, a former ballet dancer. “I saw learning the choreography as dance, but just with your fingers.”

Costar Harry Melling, who plays one of Beth’s early rivals Harry Beltik, agrees that the authenticity was found in the tactile movements of the pieces themselves.

“One of the most important things in terms of the choreography was the feel of the pieces,” he says, “about how you take pieces—whether you slide it across the board or whether you lift it up or put it down. All of these little details [are] what makes it look like you’ve been doing it your entire life.”

“It’s like riding a horse,” says Thomas Brodie-Sangster, whose chess champion Benny Watts is known for a distinctive leather duster and laconic attitude. “It doesn’t really matter if you can ride a horse, it’s more about if you can get on the horse and get off the horse and look cool doing it. That’s what people pick up on; it shows that you actually look comfortable doing it.”

While Beltik and Benny are as fictional as Beth, the actors were encouraged to draw inspiration from current and historical grandmasters on which to base their characters’ games. “Every game in the show is based on a real game,” Brodie-Sangster says. “If you’ve got a really keen eye, you can probably recognize games from across the history of chess.” He modeled Benny’s moves after Bobby Fischer, while Melling devoted a lot of time to watching current World Chess Champion Magnus Carlsen play.

“That was really fascinating,” Melling says, “because I knew nothing about chess whatsoever—so [I was] starting from ground zero, really, working out how these people operate, what makes them tick.”

Equally important as the dance steps were the dance partners. Taylor-Joy credits the originality of each sequence to who Beth is playing at that moment in time—like Townes (Jacob Fortune-Lloyd), a hunky competitor who flusters young Beth. “The first time that Beth plays Townes, it’s the first time that she’s ever liked somebody that she’s playing opposite against,” she says, “so she wants to win, but she doesn’t necessarily enjoy seeing him crumble, which is a new experience for her.”

Taylor-Joy soon found the game as dramatic as Beth does. “For her, it is life or death,” she says. “This is her intellect being challenged, and her intellect is the only thing she has any faith in. So I definitely felt the pressure, and then—whenever she’s playing with somebody—the power high of that.”

It’s no surprise that Beth gets a power high from defeating her male opponents, as it is a very insular boys’ club into which she enters as a dowdily-dressed teenager in the ’50s. For her first match with Beltik at the Kentucky Chess Championship, Melling says, the former is very much in his element, “and then she sort of enters his sphere, and he becomes completely in awe of her talent, and he knows that she’s a better player than him. His bubble gets burst very quick.”

Though Benny saunters into their first match together, Brodie-Sangster acknowledges that there is also an immediate spark with Beth. “Her presence is a bit of a surprise, and a bit of an enigma for him,” he says. “She is very much in a man’s world and doesn’t really look like she really fits in there; neither does he, and I think there’s a kind of connection there.”

Beth grows up in the world of chess, both as an aspiring grandmaster and as a young woman. Taylor-Joy had a blast playing so many different versions of Beth, though she laughs recalling how Frank initially asked her how young she thought she could play. Fourteen or fifteen was her answer—“eight, you’re gonna have to get another actor to do that one”—and so she portrays Beth from her inelegant teenage years through to her mid-twenties.

Over the course of the series, we witness Beths who are alternately brilliant and awkward, shy and sexy, on top of the world and extremely vulnerable. “Because [the show] takes its time and because you do grow with her, you as an audience are allowed insight into why she is the way she is,” Taylor-Joy says. “You see the things that shape her, and you see her grow from it, and you understand why she’s grown in that direction.” 

To move between those many phases, she would devise her own backstories for the different Beths: “She starts off walking very clumsily and awkwardly and almost side-to-side, and then I was like, ‘Oh, and this is the first time she’s ever seen an Audrey Hepburn movie’ and she starts wearing the black pants and the turtleneck and starts standing differently, if a boy’s around. And just trying on different personalities, as I think we all do, especially in that age range, and probably into our adult life. It was really fun.”

In contrast to her male opponents and love interests who inhabit the same sphere, the two key women in Beth’s life exist almost entirely outside of the chess world. Fellow orphan Jolene (Moses Ingram) shows her the ropes at the orphanage, much like an older sister, but resentment stretches between them when Beth is adopted and Jolene is left behind.

“It’s all in how they’ve grown up with each other and gotten to know each other,” says the theatrically trained Ingram of her first on-screen role and the difficult emotional history between Beth and Jolene. “I think people that truly love one another certainly get the very best, but also the very worst, of each other. When you can see someone that deeply, you can’t help but be locked in to one another.”

Complicating their relationship is the fact that preteen Jolene is the one who introduces eight-year-old Beth to the tranquilizer pills to which she immediately becomes addicted. “Jolene was just teaching her how to cope in the only way that Jolene has learned how to cope,” Ingram explains, but that simple act irrevocably shapes Beth’s approach to chess for the next decade. Initially used to “even out” the orphans’ disposition (and then later banned for their habit-forming tendencies), the pills help Beth envision a chessboard in the shadows of her bedroom ceiling at night. Taylor-Joy says she would track Beth’s mental and emotional state not just by the different matches, but by how the ghostly chess pieces appear to her: “Sometimes they’re familiar, sometimes they’re very threatening, it all very much depends on where she’s at.”

Unfortunately, where Beth is often at is relying too much on the pills to help her focus during chess games, believing herself unable to triumph when not in her altered state. Her dilemma is complicated by the fact that the tranquilizer pills come back into her life care of her adoptive mother Alma Wheatley (Marielle Heller), who initially comes off as a stereotypical ’50s housewife who can’t function without “Mother’s Little Helper.” (Though the pills go by the fictional name Xanzolam in the series, they seem to be a cousin of Azolam and other benzodiazepines.)

In the past four years, Heller has been best known behind the camera, as the director of such celebrated films as The Diary of a Teenage Girl (for which she also wrote the screenplay), Can You Ever Forgive Me?, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, and What the Constitution Means to Me. While Heller had always referenced her history as an actor as “part of my superpower as a director,” she says that she began to feel like “a fraud” when directing stars like Tom Hanks or Matthew Rhys. “I started to feel like, ‘Do I even remember what that feels like, to be an actor, to be asked to do these things, to be asked to go into these certain emotional places?’”

So when Frank, a long-time friend, invited her to join the series and spend a few months shooting in Berlin, Heller saw it as the perfect opportunity to, in her words, “keep my street cred as a director who was an actor.” As a director who seeks out projects about the uncomfortable things that people don’t talk about, Heller found that Alma embodied those same sensibilities: “She’s someone who has a lot of pain in her past, and that makes her most interesting; she’s not some version of a ’50s housewife that doesn’t feel real. So much of what I try to do as a director is to tap into that thing that has made somebody the way they are.”

Despite mother and daughter’s initial friction, as Beth carves out her niche in the chess world, and Alma begins accompanying her on her more glamorous tournaments, the older woman is inspired to revisit her own long-abandoned dreams of devoting her life to a creative pursuit. “For Alma,” Heller says, “she had this dream deferred. She was somebody who wanted to be a pianist and artist and never could, and that’s a pain that I feel is very human, and I totally connected to.”

What’s remarkable about The Queen’s Gambit is that each of its female characters experiences a different and specific struggle for the time period. “Scott did that really beautifully,” Ingram says of playing adult Jolene, advocating for change during the Civil Rights movement while Beth is moving up through the ranks of the chess world. “He didn’t let us forget what point in time we were in the world—we’re in the ’60s, in the smack-dab [middle] of civil unrest, because people aren’t being treated fairly. And I loved that Jolene is out front and being a crusader, being a champion for change, when very clearly all she’s known is white people her whole life. So it was beautiful to see that she’s found herself later, in changing the world—trying to, at least.”

In that endeavor, Jolene describes herself as a radical, though Ingram also feels that the word was a fitting theme for the series overall.

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“I think it’s radical that Beth, as a woman, is this far into the chess world at this point in time,” she says. “It’s unheard of that she’s there, and everyone’s shocked by it. It’s definitely a story of radical love, and radical faith.”

The Queen’s Gambit premieres October 23 on Netflix.

The post Anya Taylor-Joy Infiltrates the Boys’ Club of Chess in The Queen’s Gambit appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[sidelinesbysam]

I’m a Senior Again...I think

Back in the day I remember what it was like to become a senior. It was June of 1977 and it was a glorious day! We were just wrapping up our Junior year at Proviso West High School and as the final days of junior year ticked away, we all became filled with the anticipation of what was about to take place. Well almost all of us. There were a few dudes hanging out behind the auto shop that may not have had quite the excitement and focus as the rest of the Class of 78. But nonetheless, it was here...the day my friends and I were waiting for. As the last final exam was completed and that final bell rang, just like that, I was a senior! When you go to a huge high school like Proviso West, it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. Now I certainly wasn’t one of the cool kids but I do have to admit, I had some really cool friends heading into that senior year. And they were all awesome and cool in their own way  

Even though during those years I never eclipsed the 5’6” mark on the wall, I had some good friendships with some really big dudes at PWHS. I mean they were big...tall...vertically unchallenged as it were. Brett seemed to be 7’ and so did Ron. Pat O was a monster too. Looking back I’m going to guess they were in the mid 6 foot range but to me they were giants. We were friends all four years but this year, senior year was different. We were on top of the mountain of high school life and those guys were the coolest of cool. Being a high school athlete had to be the pinnacle. Especially becoming a senior.

 Somehow I had also forged a close friendship with one of the prettiest girls in a school of thousands. Carolyn was the captain of the dance and pom pom squad and her and I used to meet in the halls between classes and we chatted almost everyday. And she hung out with the greatest collection of friends that made an adolescent guy like me crazy. 

I may not have been a cool kid but when I became a senior I did some things that I thought were pretty cool at the time, and maybe still.  I was there editor of the Mural in 1978 which was the high school yearbook. Everyday for months the staff and I met to build that 300+ page yearbook that holds the memories of turning into a senior for so many of my classmates. Along with Mike, my still best friend ever, we took nearly every one of the candid photos for that book and when the first copy was delivered, maybe for the first time in my life, I felt really accomplished and pretty cool. I was also the sports editor of the Profile, the school newspaper. I had my own column and I wrote stories about all the different sporting events that entire senior year too. I wrote some stories that were really good and insightful and a few others that got me threatened with a meeting in the parking lot after school. Such is the life of a journalist! At the time I was sure that those experiences were going to launch me into a career of journalism. Looking at the media today, maybe it’s a blessing my life took another direction. After all these years, turning a senior at PWHS is mostly a clouded memory. I recall bits and pieces. I was the dude at basketball games that got hoisted up on someone's shoulders and shouted out, “Give me a P…” I remember being the first person to put on the new Panther mascot costume Coach Lucas and Mr. Skul had bought and I remember being a faithful part time team manager for the basketball team that senior year. I remember after the last loss of the season I sat in the locker room with those cool giants and I cried. “Coach Luke” came over and consoled me and told me thanks for everything. That moment really meant the world to me and it was probably the first time I considered being a senior was coming to a close. 

I even met my first wife my senior year. She wasn't a Panther but she did live close by in Elmhurst. We met at Dominick's and that eventually led directly to two great kids and three grandkids. Wow! All in all, being a senior was pretty cool.

And here I am today. Once again, I’ve become a senior. But let me tell you, it came without the same anticipation or excitement. Now to be completely clear, there is some debate as to when a person officially becomes a senior. Some say it’s 65. The Social Security Administration, in some cases, says it’s 62. For some reason, me personally always had the number 60 attached to it. Maybe now that I’m 60, I should rethink the connection. But you know what, it’s just a number and just a word. Some people say that in the context of growing old, the word senior has a negative connotation. The PC word to be used should be “elderly.” Really, elderly? I don’t like that at all. I may not be old but I am definitely not elderly. Am I? But for the sake of argument, let’s just say 60 is seniorly. What sort of cool things come with becoming a senior this go around? It appears that the gallbladder is a right of senior passage. That thing must not like being housed in a senior because half of everyone I know had to have it removed. And remember, as a senior, people like to tell you it’s not surgery...it’s just a procedure. Another thrill of being a senior is the eyesight. It appears as you progress through the years you go from readers to prescription glasses to bi-focals to trifocals and then “progressives.” The pinnacle (I hope) of a never ending battle with blurry vision. Another treasure of seniordum is that first 30 minutes or more of every single morning for the rest of ever I guess. Back in the day my alarm would go off, I would spin out of bed, get ready for school or work and take off. Now there is a strategic series of snoozes, slow turns over the edge of the bed, an occasional reach for the wall and a very deliberate walk to the first destination in the morning. Sorry dogs, your business has to wait for my business. And what do seniors do while doing their business? I, for one, look at The Facebook. And what do I see when I look at The Facebook? It appears people my age look a lot older than I think I look. Must be part of that whole “blurry vision” issue. If I am in fact a senior again, it sure looks a lot different than it did 42 years ago. But ironically, there are the benefits.

Back in 1978, as a senior, we thought we could do anything. We had a closed campus at PWHS but at lunchtime I still left to go to McDonald’s for a burger or Ne’Joes for an Italian sub. Once the truant officer stopped me at the gate before I got out of the south lot and asked me where I thought I was going. I chose what I thought was the best route and told him to get some lunch. He handed me a 5 and asked if I would grab him something. Being a senior had it’s privilege. And being a senior still does today. I find that as a senior, if that’s what I am, I can get away with saying things I couldn’t when I was younger. Now for the record, subtlety helps, but having the same filter as a younger man is not required. I notice that beating around the bush is a much shorter process. 

Me: “Can I have just a large iced tea? That's it.” 

The other person: “Anything else with that?” 

Me again: “Did you NOT hear the words JUST and THAT'S IT tucked into that sentence?”

The disgruntled other person: “(grumble...mumble...old fart)”

But in reality, landing at 60 and looking at life in perspective ain’t such a bad thing. There are some real blessings to this senior stuff and I’m not talking about AARP discounts. This is more about life in general. I have four great kids that are moving through life at breakneck speed sometimes, and I love them very much and I’m so proud of them all. I wish we connected more often but modern day electronics makes it easier to fill the gaps. A quick text or a social media “like” or thumbs up will never be a substitute for a call or a visit, but it lets us know that we’re all still out there. And I have the blessing of three grandkids that fill my life with joy and happiness. The 12 year old lives in south central IL so we need to use our devices to connect and talking to grandpa isn’t much of a priority to a video game playing, pre-teen but we do our best. The 8 and 6 year old live close by and I get to see them frequently. My granddaughter who is the youngest, observes my senior status by asking, “grandpa, why do you sit in your chair and watch those cooking shows all the time?” I want to load up one of those unfiltered replies but she’s so darn cute I just tell her, “Because I can’t find the remote to change the channel.” The fun part about my middle grandson is that at 8 years old he’s starting to let his hair grow out. And in senior fashion I asked him if he was trying to look like one of the Beatles. That got me the most puzzled look and after a pause, “who’s that?” 

And as a senior today, I look back to when I was a senior back then. I fondly remember those giants that I was friends with. Sadly Brett lost his life several years ago but I still think of him from those days and I can’t help but smile. Even though he was a massive dude in my eyes, I’ll always remember that he had a giant heart too. He always treated me like I was part of his circle even though I existed on the edge of that circle at best. And that pretty dance team captain that befriended me way back when, well she is still a BFF and not only one of the most beautiful women I know inside and out, she’s a successful business woman, an author, a proud momma and a loving, devoted wife. And I can gladly say, even though we’re a couple of hundred miles apart, we stay connected and chat often. My best friend forever Mike and I connect almost daily. Sometimes it’s a call or a text. Maybe a dad joke or a backhanded jab. We even have laughs about being seniors. Sometimes remembering 1978 and other times trying to remember stuff from 2020. 

Through the miracle of social media, even though I live over 200 miles from where I lived the first time I was a senior, I am still connected to dozens and dozens of friends from those great days at Proviso West and even earlier at MacArthur and Jefferson. For example, at our last class reunion, Tom and his band played for a couple of hours and it’s hard to believe he and I met in 1971. That guy is a rocking, surfing, boating senior and a really cool dude (does that sound seniorish?) now living in Florida. Steve and Mark and others live in Cali, Donna lives in Texas, Bill lives in Michigan, Diane has traveled all over Europe and also lived in Germany. Rich has lived in Colorado for years. My cousin Pat and his wife Patty who are also 78ers have been in Oregon for as long as I can remember. And hundreds of others are scattered all across the land and sadly, several others have gone before us. But for those that remain, there is a line of commonality that we all share and have shared before. At one time we were all seniors before life really got going. And here we all are, seniors (maybe) again. It really doesn’t matter about our life perspectives or where we stand in today’s climate of world views, we cannot separate ourselves from the fact that we were seniors together back in 1978 and we may or may not be seniors together again now. In a few years, many of us will meet again or for the first time at a class reunion. We will have happy memories about those first senior days and share a lot of laughs and a few tears. And surely the conversation will turn to current senior days and all of our own transition to being a modern day senior.

[buddaimond]

Kristen Stewart is having a huge moment in her career with Charlie’s Angels coming to theaters in November and Underwater coming in January. But so far the 29-year-old has been focusing her energies on promoting her independent movie Seberg, the tragic story of American actress Jean Seberg whose life was essentially destroyed by late ‘60s FBI surveillance when she supported the Black Panthers and had an affair with one of their leaders. Stewart is keen to spread the word about Seberg on the 40th anniversary of her death at age 40.

In Venice, at the world premiere, she admitted “we should definitely know her for more than her short haircut and movies.” Stewart then moved on to the Toronto, Deauville and London Film Festivals. Though her biggest splash was made at the Zurich Film Festival, where she gave a Masterclass, a press conference, and where I sat down with her for an exclusive interview. Seberg comes out through Amazon in December.

COLLIDER: You seem to be doing more promotion for Seberg than Charlie’s Angels. Is there a reason for that?

KRISTEN STEWART: It’s funny you mention that as I was thinking about that this morning. Maybe it’s just been a minute since I was really proud of a smaller movie that I’ve done. I’d like people to see this one and unless you go to festivals and engage with the cinematic culture that could give you that opportunity to be seen, there’s no way to do that. So I support this movie, I think it’s good, and I think it’s a good time to tell the story. It’s been cool to travel with it because I also just love the festival vibe. I like traveling around and talking to people about movie stuff. It doesn’t feel like I’m selling a film. It feels like I’m supporting it and getting it out there for sure, but not in a way that it feels like my job. It’s a nice way to complete the experience of making a film. You get this opportunity to articulate the reasons why you made it and it completes the process.

How did you come to work on the film, which is the second film by Australian, London-based theatre director Benedict Andrews? It’s about the life of Jean Seberg but is not a straightforward biopic as it concentrates on the fraught period of her life.

STEWART: I spent a bit of time on the jury with Cate Blanchett in Cannes (2018) and I’d just met Beno and was thinking about working with him and she immediately said, “Do it!” She’d worked with him on stage, he’s done a lot of opera, a realm I knew very little about. His first film Una was so incredible and so contained, just an undeniably original movie. When we had our first meeting about Jean he felt so precious and particular and his protective nature felt really contagious and he made me want to get to know her. At that point I’d only seen Breathless and learning about the story I was wildly blown away by the fact that we don’t know what happened to her and why she receded and became somebody we lost too early.

Is it possible now for an actress or even a woman who is political to be blacklisted by the US government as Seberg was?

STEWART: No, I don’t think so. A lot of people are speaking against Trump, a lot of people are speaking against things they’re not into and they’re speaking very loudly. There are just too many of us now.

Seberg was also crucified because of her sexuality, for being with a black (married) man. Your life has been in the tabloids so you must be able to relate to that.

STEWART: Yes of course. I come from a staunchly moral country as if we all share those rules. As if there could possibly be a set of rules that applies to everyone and their own individual happiness, which is absurd. But at least we’re talking about it a little more than we ever have.

It’s actually a good time to be a woman in this business with #timesup.

STEWART: I think it’s such an exciting time to be a woman who’s allowed to make films right now. There are so many stories that are going to be unearthed that have otherwise been ignored for a long time. Not that some of those stories won’t be told by men. There will be a trickle down effect. Some of my favorite experiences have been with male directors. We’re just becoming more honest about the female experience and that’s very exciting.

How was it making Charlie’s Angels directed by Elizabeth Banks, who also plays Bosley in the film? Was it fun?

STEWART: It was really fun. Liz is really funny. It was her idea to revive the movies. I’d never worked with her before but I’ve always been a huge fan. Tonally we’re so different—she can squeeze a joke or a laugh out of anything and I’m the furthest from that. So I was so shocked that she saw me like that, like, “Hey you’re a goofball and I think we should play around together because nobody does that with you.” And I was like, “What? But you’re right, nobody ever does that with me.” So she got in there and it was this really tender act and I was so thankful and ultimately she wrote a really warm, grounded—also very silly, stupid, sometimes slapstick—but also really well-intentioned movie. It’s rad. She took this story we’ve grew up with and took the superhero aspect out if it and made the girls really relatable and accessible but also very aspirational. There’s this network of women across the globe who are connected and are really unstoppable. So it’s not like there are these three unattainable women who can fly or do kung fu while suspended in the air. No, these girls are actually smart and it’s about women who are friends and who are good people working together. It’s like a women-at-work story that’s also absurd sometimes. It didn’t lose the kitschy thing because she’s fucking silly.

Are you a goofball yourself?

STEWART: Mmm, sometimes.

Did you enjoy the comedy/action?

STEWART: My character is wily. I’m the really irresponsible older sister who takes care of these girls. Sabina would take a bullet for you but she never really knows what time it is or where she’s supposed to be. So it was fun to be just a dumb-ass.

Do you want to do more of the fun dumb-ass? I guess it has to be with exactly the right person like Ellzabeth?

STEWART: I would love to play around a little bit more. I like serious movies but yes of course.

You’ve directed a short film and a few music videos and now you’re about to direct your first feature The Chronology of Water based on the memoir by Portland-based writer Lidia Yuknavitch. Why has this story captured your imagination so much?

STEWART: It was such an incredible experience reading the book. Sometimes you encounter material that articulates something you aren’t able to yet feel within you and it’s striking as hell when someone does it for you. It’s an exceedingly cool time for women to tell stories right now, the perspective is changing and I thought this was so real. This woman is a brilliant writer and uses language and plays with words in a way that I’ve never seen before. Also there’s a coming-of-age story embedded in this thing that is so confronting and not just raw for the sake of being startling, but is actually real. I don’t think it’s impossible for the male perspective to tell epic female stories, it’s just that this is so embedded in this book about a woman processing pain and shame and repurposing it and creating art as savior. It’s sort of this art-as-savior and swimming-as-solace story. It’s a real-word, body-fuck story. The way she inhabits a body and the way she speaks about it is unlike anything I’ve ever read. So I want to see it; I’ve never seen that in a movie.

Are you writing the script or are you working on it together with Lidia?

STEWART: It’s definitely a collaborative process, but I’ve adapted it. It’s such a choose-your-own-adventure story. Whoever would have ended up making it, it has to be your own take on it. There’s so much to be had, it’s so non-linear, it’s so transient. It’s like water; it’s impossible to slip down the same stream.

Will you star in it or will you stay behind the camera?

STEWART: I’m not really right for it. Whoever plays the lead needs to play 17 to 40, so it’s a really wide range. I don’t know who that is at the moment. Hopefully I’m going to direct it next year.

With Twilight did you know how big it would become when you agreed to play Bella?

STEWART: The books were a big deal in the young adult novel realm, but it wasn’t in popular culture yet. I hadn’t heard of the book at that point and thought I was auditioning for a normal movie. It didn’t stand out as this gaping opportunity, it was just something that I liked. That was a cool audition process too. Catherine [Hardwicke] and I worked together for ages auditioning a bunch of other people for all the other parts. It was very normal—until it wasn’t.

What did you enjoy about playing Bella?

STEWART: When you read that book you are her. It’s such an immersive experience. So more so than with other parts the way to get close to it and make it feel true was to really own it and make it my own rather than be faithful to a text. I guess you can say that about most work, but this in particular was fun to be there. I was a teenager, it was such a visceral time to be alive and any 17-year-old knows what I’m talking about. It was just about capturing something so immediate, that first awakening, that ownership of your body and desire, all of it. It’s like having people tell you that it’s wrong and what you shouldn’t do. It’s a fierce commitment to something you believe in and was such a cool story to tell at that age.

You made five Twilight movies. Do you still see other cast members? Do you have a big WhatsApp group?

STEWART: We all have a group chat (jokes). But we all see each other, I run into people all the time. I can’t make it to Taylor’s Halloween party, which bums me out, I’m going to be in New York. Rob’s great, he’s doing well, he’s going to be Batman and I’m very proud of him. It’s nice. In terms of the group we’ve all disbanded now for so long. I have individual relationships with everyone, but it’s not this thing that you would assume binds us in this way where we go, “Remember that?” We’ve all become real whole people who still know each other. I’m really thankful for that.

[timeagainreviews]

The Fabric of Time and Space

Hello friends! It's been quite a busy time for me. Not only did we have a houseguest for about a week, we got a dog! She's an adopted Irish greyhound named Aoife, and she's a good old girl. Needless to say, lots of things happening. I wanted to write sooner so that I could talk about the death of Terrance Dicks, but finding the time was difficult. While Dicks was a bit of an old school writer when it came to women, I absolutely love "The Horror of Fang Rock." However, one of the things for which Dicks was most beloved was his Doctor Who prose. Whether it be the Target novels, or even the BBC range, chances are that if you've read much Doctor Who prose, you've read some Terrance Dicks. Which is why I plan to do something I've never done on here, and that's to review a Doctor Who novel, specifically- The Eight Doctors. Mind you, I'm going to re-read it, just after I finish these Dark Crystal books.

Speaking of Dark Crystal, how many of you have been watching the new prequel? I've been a bit obsessed, myself. It's captured my imagination in a way I haven't felt in years. For those of you not in the know, I was born in the far off year of 1983, just one year after "The Dark Crystal," entered theatres. However, it wasn't until around 1994 that I even became aware it existed. I remember this because the night I bought two Flintstones movie books, there was a display for "The Dark Crystal," in enticingly green Disney style VHS cases. All of these things released around 1994. I was perplexed by this Jim Henson movie that somehow went completely under my radar. I took my books home that night. The Dark Crystal would have to wait a bit longer.

One of the things I loved most about my copy of "The Flintstones: The Official Movie Book," was the pictures of the Jim Henson Creature Workshop fabricating the dinosaur puppets. Something about their ability to create something realistic while still looking like a cartoon resonated with me. I wanted so much to do that job. Since then I've always had a passion for filmmaking and movie magic. Watching "The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance," has rekindled that childhood love I have for the Creature Workshop and character design. As per usual, this got me thinking about Doctor Who. Specifically, its costume design. So I thought I might keep it simple and talk about the costumes of each Doctor. Where better to start than at William Hartnell?

First Doctor

Style: "Edwardian Grandad"

To me, the First Doctor will always look the most like the Doctor the first time we see him in "An Unearthly Child." Topped with an Astrakhan hat and shrouded in a black cape, he cuts a mysterious figure framed by the door of the TARDIS. His costume was a team effort between Maureen Heneghan and William Hartnell who was adamant as to what he would and would not wear. The decision was to make him slightly Edwardian, as the time period would look somewhat out of place, yet not too far removed from the 1960's.

There's something delightfully camp and yet simple to the way he dresses. Nothing about his wardrobe seems out of place. Even his slightly manky fingerless gloves make sense for an old traveller twisting knobs and flicking switches on his fantastical machine. Sometimes leaning on a cane, and other times standing tall holding onto his lapels with his dark ring glinting against the light. He's an enigma and just a touch out of time.

Second Doctor

Style: "Cosmic Hobo"

When the 60's counterculture movement had started to shake up the status quo, we saw learned men like Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert abandon their stuffy collegiate positions for newfound roles as acid gurus. Much like these wild professors, we see the same thing in the Second Doctor's attire. It's as if the First Doctor partied so hard that he regenerated, and his disheveled clothes were whatever he was wearing when he woke up the next morning.

At the time, we had men like Maharishi Mahesh Yogi popularising words like "cosmic," and I believe it caught on in the Doctor Who production offices. Costumers Daphne Dare and Alexandra Tynman really brought a sort of anarchic spirit to the Doctor's attire that I believe has really carried on throughout the series. While I'm glad the stove pipe hat was annexed early on, I loved the additions of things like his giant fur coat held closed with twine. There's something so very Doctory about a man who looks like he sleeps in boxcars that can also attune his mind to build a perfect white cube. He really is far out, man.

Third Doctor

Style: "Space Dandy"

I've heard it said that there are two men that can pull off ruffles- Jimi Hendrix, and Jon Pertwee. And my god, does he ever? Primarily designed by Christine Rawlins, he was influenced by Adam Adamant's wardrobe. However, the biggest inspiration behind his crushed velvet and scarlet lined capes was colour television! Colour! Colour! Colour!

There's a lot of timeliness tied up in his garb. The increasing abundance of colour TV mixed with a post-60's desire to cut loose. This new night-time apparel was a way for gents to relax after a long day in their office suits. Leave it to the alien time traveller to completely ignore this fact and wear said nightwear in the middle of the day. Not only does the Third Doctor introduce a trend of the Doctor stealing his clothes from hospitals, he also marks the first major shift in apparel. The First and Second Doctors may have worn different ties, or trousers, but their overall look remained consistent. The Third Doctor's look adhered more to a wardrobe, or a style of dress. And boy does he have style!

Fourth Doctor

Style: "The Bohemian"

Once again, we see a continuation here of the style of the previous two Doctors. There's a bookishness, mixed with counterculture. Costume designer James Acheson, based a lot of the Fourth Doctor's look on Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s painting of his friend Aristide Bruant. Bruant was a man known for his wide brimmed hat and long scarf. As legend has it, Acheson commissioned a woman named Begonia Pope to knit the famous scarf. Only instead of stopping at a sensible length, this witty little knitter used every last spool of yarn she was provided.

As much as I love Tom Baker's costume in it's versatility and appropriate alienness, I am less a fan of the series 18 redesign by June Hudson, which was notoriously meddled with by John Nathan-Turner. While I rather like the new scarf, the all burgundy ensemble with question mark lapels seems to me like the first time the costume felt like a costume. That being said, there is something timeless about Tom Baker's look that even carries on into its various redesigns such as in "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," or "The Horror of Fang Rock." So much so, that even today if I go out in my Thirteenth Doctor cosplay, you always get some joker saying "Hey, where's your scarf?"

Fifth Doctor

Style: "Beige Cricketer Dad"

Before I had ever watched the Fifth Doctor's episodes, I used to look at his costume and contemplate what kind of guy would dress like that. The cricketer uniform with that red piped coat, and those garish pinstripe pyjamas over white trainers is a definite statement, but what is up with that celery? You can imagine my further confusion when I discovered Davison's portrayal was slightly more subdued and less eccentric. It made him almost the weirdest Doctor in that such a normal seeming guy would dress like his five year old picked out his clothes.

Hell, even the celery is there for a pretty mundane reason. It changes purple in the presence of certain poisonous gases. Very practical. They didn't even illustrate this purpose, we were told about it in his last episode! And you know how I feel about "show, don't tell." Regardless, I can't help but kind of love this outfit, question marks and all. I don't know if it's because I'm a fan and we grow to love this show, warts and all, but there's a reason it's on my list of costumes to cosplay. It's unmistakably the Fifth Doctor, even if it doesn't really make much sense.

Sixth Doctor

Style: "Hot Alien Mess"

Out of all of the Doctor Who costumes, I don't think a single one has been more notorious than this one. Unlike the Fifth Doctor's costume which piqued my curiosity, my initial thoughts upon seeing the Sixth Doctor's costume was "Well that was a mistake." And I wasn't wrong, it definitely was too much. Though in many ways, it also marries so well with the rest of his tenure. John Nathan-Turner's goal was to have a completely tasteless costume to match his tasteless vision for the show. He gave poor Pat Godfrey the thankless task of bringing this monstrosity to the screen.

Though, like I said, you do get used to it, as it does fit Colin Baker's irascible narcissist. I totally believe that an alien might find something like that fashionable. Even his little cat badges on his lapels inspire something I think is essential to his character. He's a big loud tomcat yowling until people stop what they're doing and recognise his brilliance. This is another one of those "I can't help but want to cosplay it," outfits. I especially like his tropical look in "The Two Doctors." It would have been nice to see more this variation in his run, such as the original black design or even the blue one we got in other media. Sigh.

Seventh Doctor

Style: "Tweedy Eccentric"

Remember how I mentioned in previous articles that the Seventh Doctor era was a series of course corrections? This is a definite one of those. We're back to something a lot more subtle, like the First or Fourth Doctor's eccentric professor vibes. But my god, those question marks just won't die! You ever have one of those friends who just can't help themselves? You can give them good advice, but at the end of the day, they're still going to do things their way? That's JNT with these goddamn question marks.

I really love the Seventh Doctor's era as I feel like the show was on the up and up. The writing was getting back on track, and Ace and Seven's chemistry was brilliant. So when you look at the Doctor's jumper, it's a kind of visible evidence of JNT being dragged kicking and screaming into this new era. Yet, funnily, when we see the Eighth Doctor movie, the Seventh Doctor's new waistcoat seems somehow less exciting. There's a certain playfulness sacrificed for realism. Perhaps JNT was onto something with his campy vision.

Eighth Doctor

Style: "Anne Rice Vampire Boyfriend"

It's going to be hard for me to view this costume without rose-tinted glasses. The Eighth Doctor is my first Doctor, so his costume will always have a place in my heart as one of the greats. But which costume? Well, of course I mean the first one from the TV movie, but my god has the man had some costume changes! Be it book, comic, or audio, the man has changed his clothes. My favourite being the unjustly maligned "Dark Eyes," variant, as I had always wondered why the Doctor never wore jeans.

Marking the second time the Doctor stole his wardrobe from a hospital, his original costume, designed by Jori Woodman, seems geared toward evoking a more classic look. A little Hartnell, a little Pertwee. For the most part it works, but I could see the argument some have made that it is a bit "costumey." In its defence, it is a costume. By the time we see McGann again in "The Night of the Doctor," we get a more subdued version of the movie look, befitting the modern series. Gotta love a man who can pull off a neckerchief.

War Doctor

Style: "Metrosexual Post-Apocalyptic"

Sadly, there's not a lot of information on the War Doctor's ensemble. But I believe you can learn a lot simply by looking at it. It's design by Howard Burden (who also did the Eighth Doctor redesign), is meant to be a sort of dark in-between of the Eighth and Ninth Doctors. Which makes a lot of sense, really. His costume looks like the clothing of a man at war. Utilitarian in it's form an function, it looks designed for durability and versatility.

I've often felt the War Doctor would not look out of place in the Fallout universe. He still wears the bandolier of a woman he couldn't save in a previous life. So much of his costume is meant to tell a visual story of a Mad Max-style road warrior. Funny then that the man still has the time to form the perfect faux-hawk coiffure and manscaped goatee with just the right amount of neckbeard. It's more of that visual storytelling I love so much- the Doctor may be a man lost at war, but he's still a bit of a narcissist. Brilliant.

Ninth Doctor

Style: "Navvy Bloke"

Christopher Eccleston has been in the news a lot these last few days due to the release of his new book "I Love the Bones of You." We've learned so much about his time as the Doctor that talking about the look of his character has become a bit of a tough subject. A lot of the man's look is now intrinsically tied in his body dysmorphia, which was at its worst when in the role as the Doctor.

I say it's "tough," in that I do want to talk about how he looked like no other Doctor Who came before him. His northern bloke look and sound almost dared the audience to reevaluate the Doctor they thought they knew. His costume is almost a non-costume. Black leather on black trousers with an assortment of dark coloured v-neck jumpers were a far cry from the question marks and long scarves of the Doctors before. Yet despite all of these differences, he quickly dispelled any doubts many longtime viewers had. He was the perfect Doctor to breathe new life into the show. These last few days have shown us just how lucky we are to still have such a man with us.

Tenth Doctor

Style: "Hipster Geek"

People often times call Matt Smith's Doctor a hipster. But who's the one wearing horn rimmed glasses and Chuck Taylors with a form fitting suit? You want to talk about first impressions from a photograph, my first thought was "hipster geek." And I love him for it. David Tennant's Doctor is such a charismatic goofball, that it's hard not to love him. And I honestly can't think of a better costume for him. I will say however that I think this one falls under that "costumey," look I've mentioned before. There's something very Scooby-Doo about a guy who owns two of the same suit in reverse colour.

I also love the simple fact that he's wearing actual Chuck Taylors. I'm surprised more Doctors haven't. Even with the logos on the sides whited out, you can spot the real McCoy (or Tennant) a mile away. Top all of this off with that marvellous coat of his, and you've got a real super hero look. Just picture it- his coat blowing in the breeze as it clings to his matchstick frame, his hair and eyes trembling with Time Lord fury. He's iconic as hell and it's no wonder he's caught the hearts and minds of so many fans.

Eleventh Doctor

Style: "Young Old Man"

I absolutely love Matt Smith's Doctor, especially his early look with the tweed and floppy hair. Ray Holm really came out swinging with this costume as it bred countless one-liners about his bow-ties and love for a good fez. If you've ever seen pictures of other Eleventh Doctor costume concepts, you'd realise what a stroke of genius that bowtie really was. He just doesn't look like the Doctor without it. I believe it was Smith himself who suggested the bowtie.

I would not say I am as onboard with the later purple suit the Doctor wore with Clara. It just lacked the subtlety of the tweed. And that top hat looked especially out of place, which is funny when you consider how good the black top hat looked on him in "Let's Kill Hitler." While I would not say the purple ensemble was a total failure, it's got nothing on his original look. Which, if you'll recall, was also stolen from a hospital.

Twelfth Doctor

Style: "Punk Magician"

Peter Capaldi is the first Doctor I ever had to wait to see the costume reveal. I had gotten into Doctor Who around the tail end of Matt Smith's first series. I remember my first reaction to Howard Burden's costume being something like "Huh." I didn't really love it. Perhaps it was the mixture of it being new, and not having already been established as the Doctor's clothes, but I was slow to come around to it. Capaldi's inspiration behind the costume was David Bowie's "Thin White Duke," persona, which is a telling bit of inspiration considering what a dark point it was in Bowie's life.

For me, the Twelfth Doctor's look truly comes together over time. I think it's somehow tied to his hair. The wilder it got, the more I liked his look. I absolutely love the hoodies and the First Doctor inspired trousers. There's something so perfect about a black jumper bespeckled with holes allowing the white shirt beneath to shine through like stars. The cosmic hobo is back in a punk rock fashion. There's something very lived in about the Twelfth Doctor's style that really resonates with me. He may be the eldest Doctor of the modern series (unless you count John Hurt), but there is something undeniably youthful about him

Thirteenth Doctor

Style: "Godspell Casual"

Jodie's costume was another one of those "Huh," moments for me. It was such a departure from anything before it, bar maybe the Ninth Doctor's jumpers. However, it only took me a few days to get used to, as compared to multiple episodes with Capaldi. A female Doctor was something I had pondered over for such a long time, that I had some expectations as to what she should and shouldn't be wearing. I definitely wanted her in sensible footwear and no floofy skirts. I wanted her like an adventurer. Think Rachel Weisz in "The Mummy." So when she showed up with a pair of high water trousers and comfortable boots, I was pretty happy. It was her t-shirt I was most taken aback by. It seemed a little more casual than I expected, but when you consider she's been a bloke her entire life, having no nonsense clothes is very much the Doctor.

It's not hard to imagine why this was the second Doctor I've cosplayed (the other being Four). There's lots of symbolism tied into the coat that Ray Holm and Whittaker devised together, and I love that they put that much thought into it. At this point it's still early days in her character. Aside from a blink and you miss it scarf or a red shirt, we've not seen a whole lot of wardrobe variation. Rumour has it she'll be donning a pair of black trousers is series 12, which I'm all for. I'd also love to see her wear some grey checked trousers like Hartnell and Troughton. Or even a black and white version of her current look. There's so much versatility possible in her costume. I hope they explore a bit of it.

And that's it for now, friends. I hope you enjoyed this article. I tried to put a little bit of research into it. While I was writing it, this blog turned one year old! I can't believe I've been doing this for a whole year! It's such a wonderful sight to see when you all like the posts and share them. Knowing I've resonated with someone like yourselves feels a little less lonely. Expect to see a Sixth Doctor review corresponding with his blu-ray (I missed the Third Doctor Blu-ray/Pertwee 100th birthday). I'm also planning on covering "The Edge of Time," VR game if they ever decide to release it! Oh and I might start covering the Dark Crystal as well, because I really love that show. I hope you are having a great weekend!

[funface2]

Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire

Blake Griffin landed a dick joke about Caitlyn Jenner at the Comedy Central Roast of Alex Baldwin, which aired last weekend. “Caitlyn completed her gender reassignment in 2017, finally confirming that no one in that family wants a white dick,” he said to roars of laughter. Was the joke offensive? Racist? Hilarious? All of the above? For her part, Jenner took the dick joke in stride. “Caitlyn was down for it,” one of the writers of the roast said. “She was like, ‘Well, you know, I’m gonna hit hard. I want them to hit me hard.’ And so we did.”

Dick jokes have existed throughout history in nearly every culture known to man, from the greatest literature of all time—Shakespeare and James Joyce—to ancient graffiti. “Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity!” some anonymous guy scrawled on the wall of a bar in the Roman city of Pompeii around 2,000 years ago. They have been staples of comedy for millennia for a reason: They’re nearly universally appealing.

“Whether you’re rich or poor or black or white, everyone laughs at a dick joke,” says comedian Aaron Berg, who hosts a recurring show at The Stand in New York City. (Berg also hosted a somewhat controversial, entirely satirical show called White Guys Matter that addressed some aspects of white male inadequacy.)

One comedian has elevated dick jokes to poetry, launching them into the realm of high art: Jacqueline Novak, whose one-woman off-Broadway show about blow jobs, Get on Your Knees, manages to make the dick joke both hilarious and high brow. She’s not the first woman to tell a dick joke, nor will she be the last, but she is perhaps the only one to devote a show almost entirely to the penis (with a few minutes sidetracking to ghosts) and be feted by The New York Times for doing so.

Novak, who has been called a “deeply philosophical urologist,” may represent a tipping point in dick jokes, because her show is finally allowing people to see the wisdom (yes, wisdom) in penis humor.

“I don’t even think of myself as like, interested in telling penis jokes. I certainly wouldn’t sit down and go, I’d love to do a show about penises,” Novak says. “I think it’s more like an investigation of my heterosexuality. Does [being heterosexual] mean I love the penis? I’m interested in the language that I’ve been expected to use or accept as legitimate about the penis. Here’s all the reasons that that’s ridiculous.”

Novak’s show is replete with riffs on our “ridiculous” penis language, from the fact that we say the penis is “rock hard”—”No geologist would ever say, this quartz is penis hard“—to the idea that the penis penetrates a woman—”You penetrate me? Fine, but I ate you, motherfucker! I chewed you up! Spit you out, and you loved every goddamn second of it.” In some ways, Novak is the perfect teller of the 21st century dick joke, not only because she is chronicling our hangups about the penis, but also because without a penis of her own, perhaps she is able to see the dick more clearly for what it is, in all its ridiculousness and beauty.

“You penetrate me? Fine, but I ate you, motherfucker! I chewed you up!”

But for the most part, phallic culture remains incoherent. Men are pilloried for exposing their dicks, while Euphoria is celebrated for its 30-penis episode; dick pics are critiqued like Picassos or seen as a public menace; judging a man by the size of his penis is perfectly acceptable or grossly objectifying; porn covers every inch of the internet, yet Facebook won’t accept ads for dildos. Dick jokes are still looked down on as cheap—to be fair, some of them are blatantly bad—but some comics say that isn’t always fair.

“Dick jokes, if you craft something amazing out of them, could be the funniest thing someone’s ever heard. And funny in a way that like, opens your mind up even,” says comedian Sean Patton. “That’s the most important kind of comedy, where you laugh at something to the point where you’re now a little more accepting of it. And that can range from anything to other people’s sexual orientation to accepting your own mental illness.” Patton’s own extended dick joke, “Cumin” on Comedy Central’s This Is Not Happening, has been viewed over 2 million times on YouTube.

Jacqueline Novak performs at the 2019 Clusterfest in June.

Jeff KravitzGetty Images

Novak uses the blow job to critique cultural expectations of masculinity and the pressure women feel to become skilled at sexually pleasing men. “The teeth shaming starts early, of course,” she says in her show. “If you have your full set of teeth…don’t go into a room where a penis is. It’s not safe for him. Why would you put him at risk?”

Patton likens the dick joke to a “Trojan horse” of comedy. “You make them laugh hard at dick jokes, now they’re listening,” he says. “Then you can throw in something a little more meaningful, and they’re on board.”

Not that all dick jokes need to be intellectual to be taken seriously. The song “D*** in a Box” by The Lonely Island, featuring Justin Timberlake, won an Emmy. It turns out the concept wasn’t exactly new. “Decades before The Lonely Island, B.S. Pully was doing that in the ’40s and ’50s,” comedy historian Kliph Nesteroff says. “Pully would be holding a cigar box at his groin, walking down the aisle. [He would] start a show saying, ‘Cigar, would you like a cigar?’ Then he would lift up the lid, and there was a hole cut in there, and his dick was hanging out. The audience would go crazy.”

Dick jokes continue to thrive off audience reactions, according to several comedians I talked to. Bonnie McFarlane, who is best known for her appearance on Last Comic Standing and her Netflix documentary Women Aren’t Funny, began telling dick jokes when she started out in 1995. “You tell dick jokes because it’s a very male audience, so that’s what they want to hear about,” she says. “It’s been a thing since comedy started. People can really kill if they’re just doing dick jokes.” But there is a double standard, she says, when female comics are made fun of “for talking about their vaginas too much.”

That Novak, a female comic, is revolutionizing the dick joke makes sense, considering that historically, “the vanguard for so-called dick jokes and sexual material comes first and foremost from women rather than men,” Nesteroff says. He points to female comics Rusty Warren, Belle Barth, Pearl Williams, and LaWanda Page as “probably the four quote-unquote ‘dirtiest’ comedians of the ’50s and ’60s, more so than Lenny Bruce, more so than Redd Foxx.”

LaWanda Page performs for The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast in 1978.

NBCGetty Images

He also says African Americans pushed dick jokes further than any other ethnicity. African-American comedian Page’s albums from the 1970s were rich with dick jokes, referencing “the size of the man, the endurance of the man,” Nesteroff says. As Page recites in her 1973 comedy album Pipe Layin’ Dan: “Husband, dear husband, now don’t be a fool/you’ve worked on the night shift ’til you’ve ruined your tool/you’d better go hungry the rest of your life/than to bring home a pecker so soft to your wife.”

“LaWanda [told] dick jokes for the same reasons a lot of black comics do, because they had to come up in the chitlin circuit, which is basically comedy clubs or bars or places where only black audiences mainly go,” says comedian Harris Stanton, who has toured with Tracy Morgan. “When I started comedy [in 1999] I started in the chitlin circuit,” he continues. “Urban comedy became this big explosion in the United States. A lot of the young black comics couldn’t get into a lot of mainstream clubs, so they would have to perform wherever they could, and dick jokes were welcome to those places.”

African Americans were pioneers of the dick joke, but they definitely weren’t the only ethnic group telling them. Three of the other female sex-joke pioneers Nesteroff mentioned were Jewish. Pearl Williams was known for roasting overweight men when they entered the comedy club by asking, “How long has it been since you’ve seen your dick?” Lenny Bruce, one of the most famous Jewish comedians, was arrested for saying schmuck on stage in 1962. Seven years later, another famous American Jew, Philip Roth, published Portnoy’s Complaint, which is essentially a 274-page dick joke, or so some claim.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your dick?”

“I probably owe a debt to Philip Roth that I’m not even fully aware of,” says Novak, who is Jewish. She references him directly in her show, joking, “I went off to college feeling good. It’s a Catholic-ish college. Lots of virgin boys scurrying around, scrambling for sexual experience at parties. Not me. I’m a Jew and I did the coursework in high school, so I felt like a Philip Roth figure. A Jewish pervert ready to teach.”

Jewish male comics may be drawn to dick jokes, according to Berg, who is Jewish, because, “the fact that our penises were intruded upon at a very young age probably gives us a fixation on it and makes us want to talk about it more.”

Dr. Jeremy Dauber, the Atran professor of Yiddish language, literature, and culture at Columbia University and author of Jewish Comedy, traces Jewish dick jokes all the way back to the Bible. The earliest case of laughter in Jewish tradition is Sarah’s laughter when she’s told that her 100-year-old husband Abraham will give her a child. It is “a laughter about male impotence,” Dauber says.

But comedians aren’t just laughing at penises anymore. Novak is going in the opposite direction. “I’m trying to restore [the penis] to true dignity.” Will her intellectual blow job jokes allow the dick joke to be taken more seriously? Will future comedians have to deal with the flack that Patton still gets in his reviews?

“Even like positive reviews, sometimes they’ll still point out there’s also a lot of cock, cock cock,” he says. “Why do you have to make sure everyone knows that you thought some of the subject matter was lowbrow?” He thinks reviewers roll their eyes at his dick talk because “everyone constantly is terrified that those around them don’t think that they’re that smart.”

Comedy is one of the only art forms that allows us to talk about male genitalia so openly and democratically. Whatever form the dick joke takes, from idiotic to intellectual, from poetry to prop comedy, as long as it gets a laugh, it should be celebrated. And there’s no better way to diffuse the angst surrounding the modern-day penis than a well-crafted dick joke. The more we laugh about penises (and not just at them), the happier the world might be.

Hallie Lieberman Hallie Lieberman is a sex historian and journalist, and the author of “Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy.”  

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Bài viết Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/best-jokes/best-dick-jokes-through-history-why-sexual-comedy-about-men-is-important-esquire/

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

The whole age thing cracks me up. That is cracks me up as in has me laughing, not cracks me up as in lines on my face. What regularly gets me laughing is comments from others that make me aware that they must see me as being old or of a certain age. It brings home to me the fact that I don’t experience myself in that way and the amusement is at the absurdity of it all.   I have many friends that range in age from less than 8 to over 80 years old. To me they are all people and I don’t really see them as different. Yes, the 8-year-old is a bit more robust with a football than the 80-year-old, and the 80-year-old has more business experience, but at essence they are all people with ageless wisdom. In a certain number of years, I will die (as will we all) and then come back again and by then the 8-year-old will be much older than me as we each go around and around in our cycles. So, it is really a question of where each of us is on our cycle at any given time.   I am currently 60 years of age and my business partner Nikki is in her 30s. What triggered me to write this was my having a meeting with my regional bank manager yesterday who asked me if Nikki was my daughter. That made me realize that I must look a lot older than Nikki which I regularly forget.   One reason I forget that I look older is because I feel more vital, healthy and alive than I ever did in my life. When I look in the mirror I see love, joy and playfulness shining back at me.  It never used to be like that. When I was a teenager and in my 20s, I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror and often felt heavy and exhausted.  These days I work 7 days a week and am on the go all day starting at about 3.30am every day. I absolutely love my work, husband, friends, life, colleagues and all the many projects I am involved in. I love being in my 60s which so far is the best ever because I have also reached a level of wisdom and space where I rarely react, have a huge amount of life experience and don’t have any personal issues anymore. Yes, stuff comes up from time to time, but I deal with it and don’t see it as an issue but an opportunity to evolve. I know a woman in her 20s who is like that too so it is not necessary to wait until 60 to be a wise elder and of course many make it into their later years without wisdom and understanding.   So yes, the reality is that my body is aging gracefully and I have no inclination to kick a football around, and clearly I must look physically oldish to people (maybe it is my grey hair) but on another level, we are all as ageless and wise as we allow ourselves to be.

Nicola L., Australia, joyofageing.com  

[paralleljulieverse]

It’s been a while since the Parallel Julieverse profiled one of the many unrealised projects that pepper the long career of Julie Andrews. From long-gestating productions lost in the planning pipelines to others that barely graduated beyond the drawing board –– with a host of rejections, prevarications, and who-knows-what-the-heck-happened in-between –– they form a tantalising treasure trove of "sliding door” what-ifs that are the stuff of Parallel Julieverse dreams.

This particular lost opportunity is a little more recent than most and touches on an integral aspect of Julie’s public image that we’ve not explicitly considered before: namely, her long association with humanitarian aid work in Southeast Asia. Long before Angelina Jolie became the contemporary poster person of Southeast Asian celebrity diplomacy, Julie Andrews was actively involved in supporting development efforts in the Indochinese peninsula.

As early as the mid-60s, Julie was using her budding celebrity to help agencies working in Southeast Asia through endorsements for Foster Parents Plan –– a role she would perform for many decades (Beyette: VI-1) –– and as a pioneering celebrity sponsor of the Committee for Responsibility, an NGO formed in 1966 to bring child casualties of the Vietnam war to the US for medical care and rehabilitation (Murphy, 1). She and husband Blake Edwards joined the Board of the Committee in 1969 and worked tirelessly on its behalf (Scott, 3). Julie made numerous public appearances in support of the organisation, including emceeing a special symphonic concert (Riley, 17) and hosting a charity art exhibition ( Loper, I-14). She also devoted a pre-filmed segment of her and Blake’s one-hour interview on the David Frost Show to profiling her work with war-injured children (Fanning: 33). This sustained personal involvement with the Committee led to Julie and Blake’s own adoption of two Vietnamese war orphans in the mid-1970s, a fact that was widely publicised in the popular press of the time (Eder: 13D; Linet: 8-10; Wilkins: 42-49).

Later in the 1970s, Julie and Blake become deeply involved with Operation California, another NGO with a strong Southeast Asian focus. Founded by two former anti-war activists, Richard Walden and Llewellyn Werner, Operation California become the subject of some controversy when the organisation aimed to send an airlift of aid directly to Cambodia in 1979 when the country still wasn’t formerly recognised by the US government. Refused assistance by the State Department, the flight finally got off the ground after Julie and Blake personally intervened and donated $75,000 of their own money (Baird: IX-13; Kaye: 12; Mitchell: I-11).

That early support for Operation California  –– later rebadged, Operation USA –– would become a defining lifelong commitment. Both Julie and Blake were founding board members of the fledgling NGO and worked tirelessly on its behalf. Through her high-profile international status, Julie has been a huge boon for the organisation, operating as their key celebrity spokesperson for the past four decades and helping secure vital support for their relief efforts. Over the years, her extensive advocacy work for Operation California/USA has ranged from headlining gala star-studded TV specials and live concerts to hosting low-key annual benefits for So.Cal. A-listers (Conway: E-31; Crowder: 4-B; Gindick: V-3; Morrison: A-15).

Wanting to see first-hand and “to learn for herself” about the situation on the ground, Julie decided to make a personal visit to the war-ravaged areas of Southeast Asia in 1982. “It’s one thing to speak about [these issues] from an intellectual point of view,” she said, but “I thought I ought to be able to speak personally” (Hendrix: V-1). On an even more personal level, Julie said she also wanted to take the trip for her two adopted daughters: 

“In some way, I went for them. I always wanted to be able to talk to my daughters about their home country. And when I went –– I never thought I would be able to love them more than I did already as my own children...[but] it made me want to hold them so tightly” (Hendrix: V-9).

Joining Richard Walden, Director of Operation California, Julie embarked on a 12-day visit to some of the most conflict-affected areas of Vietnam and Cambodia and the teeming refugee camps along the Thai border. It was, by her own admission, a life-changing experience. Coming face-to-face with “the common denominator of human suffering,” she recalled on her return, "was a real jerk to the soul” (Hendrix: V-1):

“[I] was so staggered, so assaulted by emotions...I saw it and I smelt it...a child dying in front of my eyes from malnutrition...little polio victims running around on all fours like their backs had been snapped...[refugees in camps] so filthy and hot. They’re packed like sardines. There’s absolutely no room there but your own body space. And to see them light up and smile when you walk through, it’s almost more than you could bear” (Hendrix: V-8).

It was on this trip that Julie first met and befriended Yvette Pierpaoli, a remarkable Frenchwoman who devoted her life to helping displaced children in Cambodia and, later, other war-torn countries around the globe (Beck 1985: S5; Pierpaoli, 1992). Pierpaoli had gone to Cambodia as a young businesswoman in 1966 to run an export company but soon found herself caught up in the turmoils that engulfed the region. As the Khmer Rouge took control of rural areas and refugees fled to Phnom Penh, Pierpaoli threw herself into helping displaced children, turning her house into a “transit center, with 22 to 25 lost or orphaned children there at all times” as she sought safe passage for them across the border (Cushing: V-30). When foreigners were evicted from Cambodia, Pierpaoli moved to Bangkok were she continued her relief efforts in the region, before eventually relocating to Central America in 1985 to work with children there.

Throughout this time, Julie and Pierpaoli kept in touch. Keen to make a “film that would feature the plight of the orphans...in Vietnam, Thailand, and Cambodia,” Julie announced in 1985 that she had negotiated the film rights to Pierpaoli’s story (Beck 1985: S5-4). These initial reports stated Julie would star and Blake Edwards would produce but, otherwise, details were sketchy. Two years later in 1987, the project –– which Julie called “my labor of love” –– was claimed to be “in a state of real progress” (Beck 1987: C21). The screenplay was being finalised, focussing on “the period following the Cambodian occupation by Pol Pot, when thousands upon thousands were pouring into refugee camps and Yvette saved so many children.” In these later reports, Julie was less certain whether she would play the lead role or restrict her involvement to a behind-the-scenes capacity. “I’d love to take on the role,” she affirmed, “but I just want to be sure I’d be best for it. The most important thing to me is making a film that does justice to the story––the story of a remarkable woman” (ibid.).

Sadly, after this point, the trail on the proposed Pierpaoli film goes cold and no further press reports were forthcoming. Perhaps it was derailed by financing problems or ran aground on one of the many other shoals that bedevil big film projects in what Hollywood insiders term “development hell” (Hughes 2003). The late 80s was also a period of reported turmoil in the Edwards’ family life so the project possibly got further sidelined by personal issues (Doten: 10-13; Honeycutt: 23; Michaelson: VI-1). Either way, the Yvette Pierpaoli story never got made and more’s the pity. Apart from the inherent worthiness of the material, the film would have been a valuable addition to Julie’s mid-career screen work. In the absence of a script, it’s difficult to know how well the property would have worked for Julie. But in terms of basic themes –– surrogate motherhood, a compassionate heroine aiding small children, resistance to authoritarian regimes, etc. –– the project had all the classic hallmarks of the popular Julie Andrews persona. Moreover, in the mid-80s, Julie was really working to stretch herself as a film actor, taking on some quite meaty dramatic roles such as her critically lauded back-to-back performances in That’s Life (1986) and Duet for One (1986), and the Pierpaoli property could have continued the trend. The French accent would have been a sticking point, though one imagines the character would likely have had a nationality change had Julie played the part. Anyway, it’s another one for the wistful catalogue of “if onlys”!

As for Yvette Pierpaoli, she continued her selfless commitment to international aid work, establishing her own French-based agency and partnering with NGOs around the world. In 1992, she penned her memoirs, Femme aux mille enfants / Woman of a Thousand Children. Focussed almost entirely on her relief efforts, there is no mention of the proposed film project with Julie, though by Pierpaoli’s own admission, “I was never drawn to the cinema and was incapable of distinguishing between Gary Cooper and Belmondo” (Pierpaoli: 283). Tragically, in 1999, Pierpaoli was killed in an automobile accident in Albania, together with David and Penny McCall of Refugees International and their driver, en route to deliver aid to refugees of the war in Kosovo (”Accident”: A-2). She was 61 years old.

Sources:

“Accident Kills Key Kosovo Volunteers.” The San Francisco Examiner. 20 April 1999: A2.

Baird, Barbara. “Small Group Moves Mountains of Aid to Southeast Asia ‘By Seat of Pants’.” The Los Angeles Times. 16 December 1979: IX-2,13.

Beck, Marilyn. “Andrews To Tell Orphans Story.” The Chicago Tribune. 8 November 1985: S5-4.

Beck, Marilyn. “Julie May Get Duet of Nominations.” Daily News. 10 February 1987: C21.

Beyette, Beverly. “A ‘Lesson in Humanity’ for Stars, Average Folk.” The Los Angeles Times. 3 February 1985: VI-1.

Conway, Ann. “The Little Aid Group That Could.” The Los Angeles Times. 27 June 2003: E31.

Crowder, David. “Julie Andrews Helping Lead Mobilization for Starving.” El Paso Times. 16 March 1985: 4-B.

Cushing, Diana. “A Place for ‘Displaced’ Children.” The Los Angeles Times. 6 December 1987: V30-31.

Doten, Patti. “The Sound of Julie: Alive and Touring.” The Boston Globe. 1 July 1989: 10-13. 

Eder, Shirley. “Julie Andrews a Mother Again.” The Philadelphia Inquirer. 21 April 1975: 13D.

Fanning, Win. “On Air: Julie Andrews, A ‘Playmate’?” The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. 6 July 1970: 33.

Gindick, Tia. “Art Round-Up for Operation California.” The Los Angeles Times. 13 June 1988: V-3.

Grant, Lee. “Star-Studded Show Set to Benefit Cambodian People.” The Los Angeles Times. 22 December 1979: IV-1.

Hendrix, Kathleen. “Julie Andrews Moved by Plight of Asian Children.” The Los Angeles Times. 22 September 1982: V-1,8-9.

Honeycutt, Kirk. “His Pain, His Gain.” The Los Angeles Times Calendar. 5 May 1991: 5, 23-25.

Hughes, David. Tales from Development Hell: Hollywood Film-making the Hard Way. London : Titan, 2003.

Kaye, Jeffrey. “Celebrities, Charity And Controversy.” The Washington Post. 27 January 1980: 12.

Linet, Beverly. “Julie Andrews, The Joy of Loving.” Celebrity. 1: 6, November 1975: 8-10.

Loper, Mary-Ann. “Julie Andrews Aiding the War-Injured.” The Los Angeles Times. 28 February 1971: I-14.

Michaelson, Judith. “Julie Andrews: Still a Fair Lady.” The Los Angeles Times. 9 August 1984: VI-1,5.

Mitchell, John L. “First Direct Refugee Aid Flight from U.S. Lands in Cambodia With Food, Medicine.” The Los Angeles Times. 25 November 1979: V-3.

Morrison, Pat. “Charity Case.” The Los Angeles Times. 30 January 2013: A-15.

Murphy, Jean. “Rehabilitating War-Injured Children Goal of COR.” The Los Angeles Times. 19 June 1970: IV-1, 21.

Pierpaoli, Yvette. Femme aux mille enfants. Paris: Club France Loisirs, 1992.

Riley, Robert. “Doctors Symphony in Wilshire Ebell Concert.” The Los Angeles Times. 13 April 1970: 17.

Scott, Vernon. “Julie Andrews Working with Vietnam Children.” The Herald. 20 August 1970: 3.

Wilkins, Barbara. “Couples: Soothing Blake Edwards and Raising Babies Result in a Thoroughly Joyous Julie.” People. 7:10, 14 March 1977: 42-49.

Special thanks to Hanne.

© 2019, Brett Farmer. All Rights Reserved.

[kissykiwi]

the day before you came (1)

im still writing this, but i couldn’t resist posting the very first chapter.  im excited about this piece, and i hope y’all will be too !!! welcome to my official return to writin things.

wherein harry is a travel writer who has officially reached his breaking point, y/n is a hotelier’s daughter who has never left kalokairi, and their paths are destined to meet. (mamma mia au, 2200 words)

There were days when Y/N really hated summer.  The effusion of flowers, running under bowers heavy with lemons, lying out in the sway of the tides under a full moon -- none of it felt worth it as she, her mother, and Georgie ran about The Muse.  It was the last day before the summer travel season truly began, and their little hotel was battening down the hatches for their first batch of tourists.

“Y/N, have you put the linens out on the line?  And Georgie, has Nikolas called about bringing in the week’s groceries yet?  I told you both that our first guest comes in at midnight tonight, and I’d like to have a cheese plate out to greet him!”

Because she was a good daughter, Y/N steadfastly resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  This was the third time Dee had reminded of her of the sheets that were quite visibly fluttering in the wind -- Y/N had even remembered the duvet and pillow covers that her mother always forgot.  Whoever this mystery guest was (listed only in the guestbook as “Rick Steves”), he had her mother in quite the tizzy.

“Yes mom.  And Georgie’s already told you that Nik was on the way, given that they never seem to manage two minutes without texting each other.”

To her right, two wide, brown doe eyes glared her down underneath a mop of riotous dark curls.

“He is my friend,” Georgie sniffed, flopping her mane of hair over her shoulder as she went to grab the stock book out of the front office.  Even Dee snorted at that one.

“Good friend, dear.  You oughta make a move.”

Beneath her sun burnished olive skin, Georgie turned bright red.  Y/N marveled at how perfectly in sync it was to the buzz of her phone.

“The food has come in from the mainland.  And just for that, Y/N, you can get it.”

“I’ll make sure to bring Nik with me,” Y/N called as she skipped towards the stairway down to the docks.

The stairway was tied without about 10 other places on the island for Y/N’s favorite view.  It had a sweeping panorama of the Aegean Sea as you clattered down the worn stone that made the staircase, and was lined on one side by a solemn row of cypress trees that she always rubbed for good luck (and for perfume).  As you got further down the winding cliffside, The Muse disappeared from view, and Y/N personally thought the surprise of coming up to B&B really added to value.  It was seldom enjoyed, as most guests either preferred or required the car ride up to their little villa, but that just meant it was Y/N’s secret in plain sight.  Sometimes she could sit halfway down, out of sight of both the hotel and the docks, and imagine what life was like beyond the Aegean, leagues past the limits of the towns in Greece she had seen.  Others she would follow her little northward path down the other side of the hill to Calliope’s Beach and float in the shallows until her fingers pruned and her hair was fairly coated with salt.  

The stairs themselves continued on down to a path that lead to the docks, where she had to go now.  The hotel’s ‘88 Range Rover, which was 60% blue paint and another 40% rust, was waiting at the top of the docks to carry the groceries back up the winding hill.  Y/N jogged down the steps, resisting the call of the beach as she went to run her errands.

Nik was tied off to the northmost piling in the docks like always, already busy stacking the hotel’s orders onto the dock beside him.  Crates of fresh veggies, pungent cheeses, and the first few days of seafood had made their way onto the wooden boards, and no doubt the specifically requested order of teas was the last to come.  Y/N’s eyebrows had about hit her hairline when she’d seen the list of some regional, some clearly British brews that had been added in almost hilarious quantity to their usual roster.  

“Got a bit of an herbalist coming, hm?” Nik asked as he hefted the last chest out onto the docks.  Y/N nodded slowly.

“Apparently.  D’you know Georgie told me that whoever requested these also called ahead to see if we’d allow his candles?”

Nik laughed, though Y/N knew for a fact that it was information Georgie had given him the week before when the call came in.  Ever the good sport.

“Well, at least you know he’ll be careful enough not to burn the Muse down.  Probably, anyway.  Do you know anything else about whoever requested all of this?”  Y/N couldn’t help but sigh, because she didn’t, and it was bugging her.  Usually her mother was something of an open book regarding who would be coming in to see them, but she was abnormally tight lipped regarding this specific guest.  Wouldn’t even give vague details, like age or nationality, or if Mr. Steves was even a Mr. at all.  

“Not a thing Nik,” she responded over the clunk of their crates being loaded into the trunk.  “I can hardly wait for tonight.”

---

Kalokairi, Harry thought, had better be bloody beautiful for all the hassle it was to get out to it.  He had only just finished the rounds for his latest book (Couch Surfing In Copenhagen: Scandinavia for Twenty Somethings), finalizing the last leg of his work in the bustle that was New York, and he was already well drained by the time he’d hit JFK.  He was just beginning hour three of his car ride from Athens to Lirios, one that had begun immediately after a ten hour nonstop flight, and he was well and truly out of energy.  He still had a half hour ferry to go to get to the island itself after they’d made it to the docks.  There was a headache growing behind his eyes, though whether it was from the extended travel, the amount of time he’d been awake, or the itch he had for one of the cigarettes his driver had been periodically smoking, he wasn’t sure.

Safe to say his relaxing, restorative three month break was starting as anything but.  As he watched the Greek highway roll by, he couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy.

There was a time in his life when no matter how jetlagged he was, no matter how many hours he spent in transit, the thrill of travel kept him feeling fresh.  There was an image he had in his mind then, of a seed on the wind, ready to plant himself wherever the breeze helped him land.  That was how his writing career had started.  He had been eighteen, going on small trips from England to the continent and writing little blogs about it to get some practice in for his dream magnum opus.  It had felt like a dream when one of the UK’s biggest publishers had approached him about a travel novel.  One novel had turned into two had turned into five, and now at the ripe old age of twenty four, Harry had officially had his midlife crisis.

Where had his plans gone for a more serious novel?  Alright-- well.  He would defend his travel work to the grave, so he didn’t want the impression going about that he was ashamed of it, because he never would be.  He knew he’d helped people, whether it was to find where to go or to enjoy a long plane ride of their own.  But since fourteen he’d envisioned a proper zeitgeist novel; funny but honest, reflective but not obvious, the kind of thing that could represent a generation.  Crashing in Cairo: An Englishman’s Journey Through North Africa certainly wasn’t his most contemplative work.  And besides that, he wondered what travel meant to him anymore besides a few months work and a paycheck.  There was a love he’d had once, and he felt an ache in his chest knowing that that was gone.

All of this he had explained through heaving, shuddery breaths on a long distance connection to Gem, who had responded with a deep sigh.

“Frankly, H, I think you need a sabbatical,” she’d said knowingly.  “Just get away from it all, take a break.  Stay somewhere for longer than a month.”  Harry had laughed somewhat hysterically.

“Getting away from it all’s my job, Gem.  The usual solutions are a bit out of my grasp.”

“I mean it Harry.  Find a tiny island somewhere and just take time for yourself.  No travel writing, no deadlines, no talking to your agent about where in the world they’re dropping you off next.”

“I can’t even look at a map of the world without getting nauseous,” he moaned and hey, that may have been an exaggeration, but Harry was feeling awfully grim.

“Then you’ll take my recommendation with no questions.  There’s this little place called Kalokairi.  It’s a Greek island in the Aegean, that’s practically made of sun, blue water, and good food.  I stayed there with my friends a year or two ago, and they have the most wonderful little hotel there that I know you’ll love.  How does three months this summer sound?”

A rock in the middle of the ocean had sounded pretty damn good, and so here he was hurtling down the road to what was likely little more than a dinghy out to an island he hadn’t even googled.

Truly, what had his life become?  Curling his shaking fingers into his palm, he leaned forward to his driver.

“Say, could I bother you for a cigarette?”

---

Y/N was fairly wrecked by the time she made it to her bed in the room above the registration desk.  As her mother aged she did more heavy lifting, and she felt as though she had run a marathon or two.  At the very least Dee had taken pity and sent her up for bed instead of asking her to wait for the mysterious Mr. Steves.

She’d heard nothing of him before his check in, and the radio silence had her absolutely itching to see what all the fuss was about.  Though she never told her mother it, the guests were her way of living vicariously outside of their microcosm of the world.  Being denied any information about their international man (or woman) of mystery had her head spinning with scenarios.  Maybe it was some high up government boss bitch here on a rest and recovery, someone who’d have stories of Moscow and Sao Paulo and Jakarta.  Could be that it was some creaky old man who’d lived in Berlin during the Cold War and had stories about sneaking across the wall and the underground scene.  Maybe (and this was quite the hopeful maybe) it was someone her age who’d gotten to see just a bit of the world, someone who would want to talk to her and be a new friend (the first in twenty years).  Or even more.

That was why, though it was just about midnight and creeping ever closer to her nineteenth hour of being awake this day, she was huddled close to her window and sipping from one of the teas she was allowed to have.  She’d heard the ferry come in (the ancient catamaran was something of a screamer after a long day of travel), and had forced herself upright to wait for her mother to return with their first of the season.

Across the dimly lit courtyard, she saw the gate into the villa’s main environs swing open.  There was her mother, the unmistakable silhouette of her hair and sprinkle of her laugh indicative even from a ways away.  Next to her, was what looked like a man, and probably a young one.  He dwarfed her mother, all willowy limbs and long frame, and she could make out some duck fluff soft curls.  He was carrying quite a few bags and her mother had a few more.  This was no doubt the three month stay.  Though she couldn’t make out much of him, there was something about the line of his shoulders and his skinny little ankles that made her hope he might be rather cute.

“Jus’ a bit tired is all.  Last year or two have been rather long, I s’pose.”  His voice was rich and low, and his accent was easily pegged as British, though she hardly knew which region.  It made something curl in her stomach.  Her curiosity was well and truly piqued.

“Well, we hope you’ll be able to relax here.  I’m excited for you to see the island in the morning.  I remember the first time I saw it-- it was dawn then, and it just about took my breath away.  And my daughter will be around with your breakfast for whenever you list it.  You have us at your disposal, given you’re our first arrival.”

Her mom had taken the route that kept his face in shadow,  and Y/N tried not to flush guiltily as Dee looked knowingly up at the window and wiggled her fingers.  Y/N sighed and rolled over to turn out the light.  It looked like finding out whoever this man was would have to wait until the morning.