#and we both hate bob dylan

[theclowncowboy]

almost just burst into tears because im not his bestfriend .

[bullet-prooflove]

Boston: Jack Abbott x Reader

Tagged: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @noxytopy @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Your mom hates Jack and that’s ok because Jack hates your mom, he’s just more polite about it out of respect for you. It’s why he bites his tongue when you go to lunch with her, why he’s even more attentive when you return because that woman she wears you down, erodes you and Jack he despises it.

It’s worse today because it’s the anniversary of your sister’s death. Your mom, she refuses to acknowledge it but you do, you put flowers on Abby’s grave for every one of the occasions she misses. Jack, he goes with you because he knows that pain can be just as visceral a decade later, that it can leave you feeling hollowed out, wrecked.

“You don’t have to go to lunch with her today.” He tells you as you sit in the car outside the restaurant. “We can take a drive down by the river instead, get out of the city for a while, give you a little breathing room.”

Today is a tough day for you, even without your mother’s looming presence and he doesn’t want it to get any harder.

“It’ll be fine.” You tell him as you get out of the car. “Maybe she finally wants to celebrate Abby’s life this time.”

She doesn’t. The reason she’s summoned you is because she wants to talk about your future, the one that doesn't include an underpaid, overworked emergency room physician. However it does include your ex-husband Richard, the man who used to be your psychiatrist and your sister's before her untimely death.

Jack finds this out six hours later when he has to track you down using the Find My Friend App because you haven't returned home from the restaurant. He locates you back at Abby’s grave site, sitting on the bench underneath the old oak tree watching the sunset in the distance.

“Mom didn’t come.” You say quietly, your hands tucked into your pockets as you stare at the scenery in front of you. “She sent Richard instead. Apparently they both agree it’s time for me to move on, to stop lingering in the past and return to Boston.”

“Boston, that’s where you were before…” Jack swallows hard against the ache in his chest, the one that’s been growing ever since he realised you hadn’t come home to him. “…where you were with him.”

Before your return to Pittsburgh you helped Richard to establish a rehab clinic, one that catered especially to the rich and famous. You used to spend your days negotiating treatment plans with publicists and managing people who had more money than god but no drive to heal. It was soul destroying, morally irrepresentable and it only added to the numbness you felt in the years after your sister’s death, which is why one night you found yourself taking off your clothes and walking into the ocean.

You’d just discovered Richard was fucking one of his celebrities and that last scrap of self-worth had evaporated. You weren’t anything to anyone, nobody would care if you just slipped out of existence. So that’s what you decided to do. Step into the water, leave it all behind. Just like Abby did.

It’s the initial burst  of cold that stops you, that bracing wave of freezing water immersing your body. Something inside of you breaks and all of those emotions you’ve shoved down into a box unleash themselves. Instead of nothing, you feel everything, the anguish, the grief, the devastation, it hits you all at once and that pain, it pours out of you into the water as you struggle to keep your head above it.

You almost drown that night, you almost let the current take you but you don’t because deep down in the core of your being you know it has to get better, because truthfully it can’t get much worse.

The only way is up, you remind yourself as you drag yourself back up onto the beach.

Three years later you meet the man that makes all of your dreams come true, who gives himself to you so unconditionally that sometimes even you can’t believe he’s real.

“If you want to go to Boston, I won’t stop you.” Jack says as he sits down beside you, you can feel the despondency in him as he runs his hands through burnished silver curls. “But I can’t go with you, the need here… it’s too great.”

You understand what he means. You, him, your colleagues, you’re the only thing standing between most people and a really bad fucking day. Jack can’t abandon the people who need him, and the thing is neither can you.

“Jack.” You say softly as you take his hand, your fingers lacing through his. “I’m not going to Boston, I’m staying right here with you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[transit-fag]

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

[moonandst4rs]

“Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X GN!READER

WC: 824

Summary: Dean's struggling to keep fighting

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door' by Bob Dylan, fluff, angst, no use of y/n

A/N: This is such a good song honestly. Sorry it's taken me so long to update, things are chaotic so posts will be slower. Any requests or feedback is helpful, even if you're just chatting -- they don't need to me music related !!

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The night was cold and quieter than usual. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was the kind that gnawed at you, it made you feel like the world had finally stopped spinning. It left you stranded somewhere between here and nowhere. The only sound was the soft rustle of wind through the trees, like whispers of your past, carrying all the words you both couldn’t say.

You stood beside Dean, watching as the stars flickered faintly above you, like they were barely holding on too. It wasn’t often you found yourselves with a moment to breathe, but even now, it felt like the weight of the world was still pressing on your shoulders. Dean was leaning against the Impala, he was looking ahead, his eyes distant, as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

"You ever wonder if this is it?" Dean’s voice was low, rough around the edges, like he’d been holding back too much for too long. He didn’t look at you when he spoke, but you knew it wasn’t because he was hiding. Dean never was one to face the things that hurt head-on unless it was a monster he could actually kill, he was never comfortable sharing his feeling.

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, and it felt like the air between you both grew heavier, the weight of his thoughts slowly crushing you. "I mean… if this is where it all ends. Us. The fight. Everything. Maybe we’re just knockin’ on heaven’s door, and it’s never gonna open."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat getting bigger. It wasn’t like Dean to talk like this, at least not out loud. He carried his burden like a badge, shouldering everyone else’s pain without ever giving himself the time or the grace to feel his own.

"You’re not ready to give up, are you?" you asked softly, although you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. Then finally, he turned to face you, eyes darker than usual, full of the weight of every battle, every loss, every moment he’d had to be stronger than anyone else.

"I’m tired," he admitted, voice cracking at the weight of his words. "I’m real tired, sweetheart."

Your heart broke a little hearing him say it out loud. You had always known,you’d always seen it in the way he moved, the way his shoulders never seemed to relax. Dean Winchester was made of steel and grit, but even steel bends under enough pressure.

You stepped closer, the sound of your boots crunching on gravel the only thing breaking the silence. Reaching out, you placed a hand on his arm, the warmth of him a stark contrast to the cold night air, he always did run hot. a ‘human furnace’ as Sam called him.

"We’ll keep going," you said quietly, even though you weren’t sure if it was a promise you could keep. "We always do."

Dean looked down at your hand on his arm, then slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. There was something raw in his eyes, something vulnerable he never let anyone see. It made your chest tighten because you knew how much he hated letting anyone in that far.

"I don’t know if I can keep fighting," he admitted, and it was like the dam had broken. The words tumbled out, laced with years of pain and guilt and everything he’d bottled up for far too long. "I don’t know if I can keep doing this… watching the people I care about get hurt, lose more than we can handle. I’m knockin’, and no one’s answering."

The knot in your throat felt too big to swallow, and you blinked against the sting in your eyes. You couldn’t say anything that would make it better, couldn’t fix the cracks in him that had formed long before you met him.

So instead, you did what you could. You took another step closer, closing the distance between you, and gently rested your head against his chest. His breath hitched slightly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the comfort you were offering.

"We’ll figure it out," you whispered, your voice barely above the wind. "And if we don’t… if it’s the end… at least we won’t be standing at that door alone."

Dean’s arms wrapped around you then, pulling you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. You could feel the steady drum of his heartbeat beneath your ear, strong, despite everything that had tried to break him. It was peaceful. Just the two of you, standing together, waiting for whatever came next.

No matter how long you stood knocking on heaven’s door, as long as you were with him, you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone, Dean made sure of that.

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[dailyrothko]

what drew you to Rothko? Do you have a favorite Rothko painting? Have you seen it in person?

I think it's an interesting question. I don't really know what draws me to anything, it usually doesn't have a linear voyage into my consciousness. I did go to museums as a young person and I am sure I saw Rothko paintings before I was aware who it was. You know how it is, something about it speaks to you and there you are.

As a young teenager, I listened to Ornette Coleman. This was in addition to other stuff I liked like Bob Dylan, the Buzzcocks, Brian Eno, Desmiond Decker, etc. I did not have a single friend that liked jazz, especially THAT kind if jazz. It may have been entirely for the fact that I went into a record store and bought this record

I bought it because it looked to me like these people were serious about this endeavor and I should take note. I brought it home and it made sense to me. And it was similar with Rothko, I know by age 14 I made Morris Louis, Rothko and Pollock Easter eggs and not many years after that, I had this poster in my room

It may have been the minimal aspect that got me. It was so different from all the other art I knew.

I don't have a favorite Rothko painting though yesterday I did link some ones I like. Now I have seen a large number of his paintings in person, but of the first I was conscious of seeing up close was this one:

and it definitely was pretty cool.

It's a puzzle to discern why people like things. You can really admire an artist's work and then find out you hate every artist they champion.

It's a little different when you're young and what your taste is. is also a way of sorting out your peers and making friends. You find connections, we all like Evil Dead, or we like the Clash and hate Phil Collins. It's a way weeding out and identifying yourself.

Later on, I think you get open to the idea that it's more individual, and, importantly, that that's allowed. In a sense you have kinship with people because they have the soul to cultivate their interests. You don't both have to like the same exact things. Every artist has good and bad work and I think we accept that more later in life when you get them off a pedestal and it doesn't diminish them, there's often things to love even in the bad work, you just wouldn't die as many deaths for it.

The best friend to have is an enthusiast. I often say the same thing, so forgive me, but the way I look at it is, it's not about one artist or one art form. We're all just trying to be amazed.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it. 

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in. 

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

Previous / Next

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

VHSCC OH MY GOD

(no spoilers)

Starkid nation, you aren't ready.

So let's start with the obvious. Look, I spent thirteen years growing up with Starkid. That initial Michigan gang are deeply special to me and I will always miss Dylan, Brian R., and Corey in any show they aren't in. And this one's no different. But just as Janaya came in and took over Belle from Britney so flawlessly, Curt, Brian, and AJ were all WONDERFUL in their new roles. The gentle-but-high-energy, truly decent, romantic himbo charm Curt brought to our Springsteen boy Jim (you all are going to LOVE Jim, I promise) perfectly offset the defiant, sneering anger of Young Scrooge in "That Scrooge." Brian's reactions (particularly to the "rather take my own life" line) were so funny and some of my favorite parts of the show. And AJ... this is now my favorite thing AJ has ever done. And that's saying something. The smaller casting shake-up moments (Joey as Fezziwig, other little line re-distributions) were so fun as well!

The new act 1 is PERFECTION. I was actually surprised by how absolutely hysterical it was? Like, I won't tell you what was up with that clip on Instagram of Brian, Lauren, and Joey doing a freak-out dance, but I can tell you that their whole Act 1 deal threatened to steal the show every. Single. Time. I already mentioned Curt as Jim, but you will also love Della, who is so funny and real and truly carries us through the start of the show (Janaya is a STAR and she Curt have brilliant chemistry). Ali did a terrific job of balancing the sadness and hope that are both at the center of the devastating little Match Girl. And Jamie's Grandma... well, honestly I have no idea how to talk about Jamie's song without giving stuff away.

But the real star of the show in Act 1, as he should be, was our man Clark. I can't emphasize enough how much he nailed the writing of this whole new act. I mentioned that the new stuff is hilarious, but it's also deeply heartfelt, and also sad exactly when it needs to be. Like, the transition after Jamie's song? I can't really talk about it yet, but what that moment does with emotion is unreal. And, as expected, every song is a banger! My one complaint about this show, and it IS a big one, is that there is no cast recording of the Act 1 songs. I want to listen to them all the time.

But the good news is, I CAN listen to Christmas Carol as much as I want! The classic that started it all is back, with so many people reprising the hell out of their truly iconic roles (God I love the VHS Cratchits), and better than ever. I traditionally hate change, and I love the version of VHSCC Live! we already have so much, but I think I somehow loved this version even more? The staging is alive and clever and there are some additions and changes, particularly in "Final Ghost"/"Christmas Day," that frankly blew my mind and somehow managed to elevate the material even further. I can't wait for the digital ticket to come out so that I can talk about them. To put it simply, James Tolbert mastered his Starkid directorial debut like you won't believe. I'm so proud of him and grateful for the larger role he's taken in Starkid since they moved base to LA.

Also, the Ghost of Christmas Past is extra unhinged this year? Jaime pulled out all of the impish stops and it was the BEST.

Basically, everyone more than delivered. I haven't talked about Meredith yet but she rocked it in the band and continued to validate the hell out of my opinion that "3 Spirits" is the dark horse best song in the show.

And a special shout-out to June Saito for continuing to be a costuming GENIUS. I always love her work and this production is no exception. I honestly wanted to give the return of the Bob Cratchit costume its own round of applause.

You know, the world is a mess and everything is pretty much terrible. It's been a hard year in an impossible decade. But every once in a while you come across some art that takes all of that, acknowledges the truth of it, and somehow pulls back the curtains to harness the joy and hope that's still there under the rubble. To me, Starkid in particular has always been about finding and holding onto the hope and the beauty and humanity that allows us to endure an existence that can so often feel bleak. And VHSCC is maybe the most perfect encapsulation of that idea.

So thank you Clark, James, Meredith, Brian, and everyone who worked so hard on this little bit of magic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Let's make a little light.

[hivemuthur]

So I'm listening to the amazing playlist you shared for To Be Known (which is so so good and I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for the next chapter), and find myself wondering how much is Viktor vibes and how much is Reader vibes, and both. And this made me wonder, in general what artists do you envision Modern AU Vik to listen to, in particular when *not* studying?

❤️

✨️Anon

Hi Anon! Thank you so much, I know that playlists are sometimes intrusive because we all have our music preference, so it makes me very happy that this one landed for someone ❤️ I actually don't associate any of the songs with vibes of either, it's just the music that plays in the background of my tv show that they play main parts in :v As for Viktor's taste, this is gonna be long, so I'm putting it under the cut:

Okay, so, I actually find it very very hard to give Viktor music taste, he doesn't seem like a music guy to me that much! But let's play around with this idea RPG style, dropping him in Modern AU and saying he is in his 30s, which would make him a millennial. Another factor: central/eastern European youth, where the lines between millennials/gen X are blurred. We also know that he is very intelligent, a nerd, but possibly not a complete snob.

So, I think Viktor would be into a mix of old music/music that came out when he was in his teens/20s and then abandoned getting to know what's new sometime around 27-28. This leaves me with:

Classics:

Pink Floyd, but he sees it as two bands: Syd Barrett era and post-Syd Barret era. Donovan, totally. Simon & Garfunkel, totally. He's the man that would appreciate Pet Sounds by Beach Boys for what it is, one of the saddest albums of all time. T-Rex, because they are just so fucking cool. Possibly The Stooges, David Bowie's Berlin Trilogy and later Blackstar. I can see him also being into the poetry of The Doors, Led Zeppelin and Bob Dylan (It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) someone ban me from listening to this song). I'm thinking also maybe some 4AD vibes, like Dead Can Dance. For some reason, I also think Viktor would be into blues.

Later:

Definitely some grunge era here, so obviously Nirvana. I think he would also love lesser known Britpop bands like Longpigs or The Beta Band. He would hate Suede and Oasis.

From songwriters he would probably appreciate Nick Drake, Elliott Smith and Jeff Buckley, and possibly Tim Buckley.

Ninja Tune was a huge thing once, and here: Bonobo, Fink, The Herbaliser, DJ Shadow, The Cinematic Orchestra.

And from the crazy zones, Iannis Xenakis, Alvin Lucier, maybe Einstürzende Neubauten.

With classical music, I think he would appreciate Lutosławski, Ligeti and Sorabji, as they tether the lines of impossible.

Listen to a little bit of the beginning then rewind to the middle and the end if you want to check out this experiment.

I wish I knew this man. If someone ever asks me which dead person I would like to have dinner with, it would be him. Everyday I lie to myself that I understand him.

I actually find it very hard to define music tastes, because mine is nonexistent. I listen to everything, and I mean it, you can catch me rapping to MF Doom (my bf hates it lol), singing Hamilton (he hates that one too), whining with Thom Yorke. Currently I'm blasting Bauhaus because gothic AU, a little bit on the nose, but who cares. What matters to me is the 'how it's made' aspect. If I listen to rap I will go back to jazz and blues inevitably. If I listen to angsty 90s music I will go back to 70s bards. If I listen to 70s bards I will go to 50s country blues. If it's Chappell Roan, I will land on Tori Amos at some point. Music is communicating vessels, and I think Viktor would follow this path too, being a nerd who seeks patterns and all.

And I am aware how much of male music made it here, but this is where sensitive boys went back in the 90s and 00s to not go insane :')

(to other sensitive boys)

[loftec]

🎄Weekly Tag Wednesday - Holidays 🎄

This week we are going to talk about your Holiday Traditions! Thank you for the tag @deedala <3

Name:  loftec

Where in the world are you?  Sweden

What holiday do you and/or your family celebrate at this time of year?  We celebrate christmas, but honestly I hate calling it that so I will call it yule in this post (jul, in swedish). It's obviously a pagan-turned-christian holiday here too, but I've never been religious so my brain does this every time I have to refer to it as "christmas":

Does your family get together to celebrate?  Yes, just my parents and brothers, it used to be that we'd celebrate on our own on the 23rd and maybe have one or two grandparents over for the 24th (the main day here) and then go see extended family on the 25th and 26th, but these days my brothers, their SOs and I just go hang out at our parents' three days in a row. It's very nice and low-key.

Are there any traditional foods for the holiday?  Julbord, a yule smörgåsbord. Ham, meatballs, kale, pickled herring, salmon, janssons, etc etc. We usually get to demand one thing each for the table, and mine is always kale. There's a culture war in sweden re: which type of cabbage is correct for julbord – brown, green or red – and I'm controversially team green (geographically, I should be team brown) (no-one is team brown).

Do you typically decorate for your holiday?  I have a little box I bring out; I've got a star light for my bedroom (an orange paper lantern I've had since I was a kid) and a brass star light for the kitchen (it used to be the family kitchen light before my parents moved out of my childhood home). I also have a very small tree for the Boy (so I can put his presents under it), and this year I added a new guy to the box:

I've had the version on the left for as long as I can remember (he's in the family box at my parents'), and found the lad to the right at a second hand shop the other day. Obviously he had to come home with me, and one day he will be reunited with his long lost pal (gay).

Tell me about your favorite holiday memory:  For decades, one of the most important traditions in my family was to go to an indoor pool on the 23rd. It started when my brother and I were little and I think our mum was sick one yule and dad wanted to give her some peace and quiet, so we went to a public bath nearby. Turns out not a lot of people do this, most people are probably running around getting ready for the 24th, so we had a grand old time swimming and playing in a basically empty bath. So this became a beloved tradition, and we went for almost every year until the pandemic. One specifically memorable time was when they visited me in Japan and we went to an onsen, and it started snowing.

What is the significance of the holiday you are celebrating?  Spend time with family (people you want to spend time with) and eat good food (knowing that you're halfway through winter and that the food will last) and appease the natural forces (yule gnomes) with bribes (porridge) so they'll give you a little gift and not fuck up your life. Also Jesus and Brian of nazareth were both born at some point.

If there was one thing you could change about this holiday, what would it be? My dad came home with a persistent cold, I'm hoping for him to feel completely recovered by next week.

Anything else you want to tell me about your holiday? Please enjoy my top 5 yule albums (proceeds to recommend you five aggressively christmassy albums lol listen!! the bops transcend religion):

tagging @the-rat-wins @mittimellan (in case you want to procrastinate the stress week!!) @wideblueskies @beckyharvey29 @thisfeebleheart and anyone who wants to yap about their holidays!

[tronbrlzed13]

Finally Viktor’s half!!! Yeayyy again this is based on my interpretations of arcane s2 and @bringthekaos fics!! Please give me a like bob dylan is just so hard to understand hahaha.

Here I will feature a more somber tone, the songs are full of doubts which conterparts with the previous playlist full of certainty, here the songs are more melancholic but at the end we have peace. I will post the meaning of each song for me in viktors context below, but I recommend listening to my playlist before reading so you are not influenced by my interpretation.

It’s again full of first aid kit songs, because they are the best in writing love turmoil songs!! I absolutely loveeeee them.

Hope you all like.

Rebel heart - it’s the song theme for viktor. It embodies his journey throughout the playlist. This song is about the herald’s heart, viktor rebel nature. This song have so many symbolisms, viktor debates, both the fics and the show, if he should trust Jayce, is him misplacing his hearth giving it to Jayce? To the machine herald all is futile and should stay in the past, is that also true for viktor? Even when he hates Jayce when his life is pure storm he can’t stop wanting him. All because of his rebel heart, he then realizes that Jayce is the only one that truly saw his heart.

When I grow up - it’s a song about viktor dreams and ambitions when he invented hextech, what he wanted to achieve, he wanted his investiments to come back to him in some form o happiness or contempt. He also stars to notice he wishes Jayce had deeper feelings about him.

In my room - a song about how recluse and not preoccupied viktor is when the matter is life outside the lab. He just can’t enjoy it, he thinks he’s useless if he don’t invent something new every minute.

Ready to run - it’s about Viktor’s insecurity when he make bold moves towards Jayce, mostly suggesting somethig by deeper, he has a impression that Jayce is scared of a possible relationship. But when at the ends he concludes he’s the disappointment (wrongly by the way) and that he’s the one ready to run all the time.

Jolene - it’s about jealousy, Viktor is jealous of Mel being Jayce girlfriend, specially because he thinks she’s better than him, but he also thinks she’s not a good person and is manipulating Jayce. (Do I support such attitude from viktor? No, do I think he believe this shit? Yes).

Child of Summer - here viktor wishes he was more active in life, he wished he shined like the golden boy, maybe then Jayce would admire him. Viktor always wanted to be lonely, because in his mind it was better that way since he was always ostracized due to his leg, until he found himself completely isolated of life and the joy of it. He regrets that decision even more after he meets Jayce, maybe if his personal life take no path he just needs to whait Jayce to find him.

Hem of her dress - Viktor believes that Jayce found his other piece in Mel and also in Piltover council. And that him and their dreams will be forgotten, like a photograph Jayce forgot he took.

I just needed a Friend - this song translates the loneliness viktor felt when he was sick, while Jayce was occupied being a councilor, viktor laughed at his fears and played controlled. He came to the conclusion he was nothing more than an amateur project that wasn’t made to live and was deemed to die fast, he was ready to be taken to whatever fate destiny wanted and believed everything was a mistake from the universe (him, his creations, hextech) he only needed a friend (where the fuck were you Jayce by the way?).

My wild sweet love - it’s also about the period where Viktor finds out he’s dying and Jayce is doing politics. Viktor needs Jayce golden aura more than even, but Jayce gotta do what he gotta do, and viktor is left with his feelings. The love he had for Jayce will this only be a memory?

Our own pretty ways - it’s a song about breakup, when s2 hits or when viktor is expelled from Piltover, he finally realizes Jayce is quite different from what he was in s1 but also the same in many ways (stubborn, hypocrite, blind) and that their paths diverged. So Viktor just decides to end their relation.

Ruins - it’s about what viktor left behind, his ruins: Jayce, his love, his dream, hextech, Piltover. He believes he lost himself in the pursuit of greatness and greedy politics. He realizes Jayce maybe lost too.

It’s all over now baby blue - it’s about endings and new beginnings. It’s Viktor saying goodbye to Jayce, to the dead (sky), to his political beliefs (pacificism), to Piltover, to his illness and leg, to his body. It’s a new beginning to him, when he leaves Jayce (considering s2 canon) or it’s expelled by Jayce (as in the fics) he needs to start over.

You want it darker - it’s Viktor disgusted with Piltover and himself for being a part of their schemes, it’s a song about terrible acts evil people do using progress civility and religion as an excuse. It’s him realizing how toxic the council is, and how they (and himself) are responsible for Zaun misfortunes, he’s ready to change that situation. In the series context this doing could also represent Viktor’s acknowledgement that humankind and it’s emotions are the responsible for all misfortunes, and he’s ready to evolve past that in pursuit of a better future. I do t think viktor is that much religious, but this song could also mean he’s pissed with god/universe/fate for giving him a disease that’s going to kill him. Basically it’s Viktor pissed with how unfair the world is.

Farewell Angelina - I think in Viktor’s context he is talking about two words. The world of appearances, where people see him as the machine herald/ arcane herald that force people into zombies and what’s found underneath, the world of what’s really going on. The contradicting lines of sweet words, with am apocalyptic agressive world symbolize the complexity of what’s really going on. In one side we have sweet human viktor that remains the same, and in the other we have the apocalyptic reality that pushes machine/arcane idealist that does not belive in humankind kind of viktor. who will him be? This interior fight is embodied in the decision related to Jayce: does he love Jayce? Does he hate Jayce? Does he follow the sound from his hearth? Does he say farewell? No assumption about his intentions made by either Piltover Zaun or Jayce are accurate, maybe not even he knows what is accurate. Viktor tries to leave behind this conflict and just get over it, but leaving emotions and morals buried is impossible. Using s2 sense literally this song could also symbolize Viktor’s transformation in the arcane herald inside the cocoon, it’s Viktor’s old self saying farewell inside Viktor’s own mind, here the apocalyptic verses would be viktor old body being thorn apart by the arcane.

Stay Gold - it’s a song about how everything in life is deemed to vanish, from gold to grey. Viktor realizes his human body will vanish, his relationship with Jayce will also whiter. But in his dreams he can still make a bridge that takes him to Jayce as he was before everything. What if Jayces love is not enough for viktor anymore?

Diamonds and Rust - this song is about the sweeteness of Jayce and Viktor love in the beginning of s1 (represented by diamonds) justaposed with the bitterness of the separation in s2 or after the end of s1 (represented by rust). When Jayce comes back to visit viktor, he’s met with the harsh reality of the price he needs to pay for leaving Jayce (solitude) a price he already paid. Viktor is also nostalgic when he remembers the time with Jayce in the lab, and he need to make clear that both him and Jayce could’ve died in that time and viktor would not have to taste the rust only the diamonds (considering he was ill and he and Jayce were blown up by jinx in the end of s1).

A quiet life - here it’s Viktor wondering if now that he’s far away from Jayce and also freed from his decaying body maybe he would have a peaceful life. But it’s the quite opposite, now he’s utterly alone, and even when it’s all quiet outside, inside his mind his loneliness take away his peace.

Dress Rehearsal Rag - it’s about Jayce and Viktor interactions after viktor departure, it’s viktor realizing that Jayce lost all of his golden aura, it’s Viktor realizing his impact on Jayce and realizing that Jayce do care deeply for him. Dude this song is about a man that was famous and had an golden aura around him, this man was in the top of the world but he’s not what he appears, deep down he’s a frustrated man and the singer sees that, which call back to the fact that viktor truly a sees Jayce for who he is. Leonard cohen literally described Jayce

Cedar Lane - It’s about what was great of Jayce and Viktor relationship, he still can’t break away from Jayce, even with all the doubts he previously had deep inside he still believes something good may come out of his situation. He can belive the future maybe gold.

I’ve wanted you - confession song of viktor towards Jayce. It’s Viktor adititng to himself (or otherwise) all the struggle he went through, the loneliness he felt trohiught the years, him trying to foil that void with distractions. But all that time all he wanted was Jayce, maybe width Jayce viktor can finally overcome this void inside him.

I found a way - a song about the cicle of inner conflict between the two identities of viktor. I one side we have human viktor and in the other we have machine / arcane herald. Viktor is confused who is he, but suddenly Jayce is back to his life, and like the morning he takes over the darkness and share light into viktor decision. In conclusion Jayce takes out the best in viktor and creates the best version of Viktor’s when he’s around.

Emmylou - it’s basically viktor adimiting to himself and to Jayce he will stay with him though the end, is just a love declaration (cute I know)

[hernakedmuse]

Lily's Head Girl Dorm Headcanon

In Lily's Head Girl dorm it's her sanctuary, more so than her shared bedroom at home with Tuney.

For once she has a space completely, unapologetically and unfiltered-ly just Lily.

A hundred different crystals of different meanings

Including Crystal balls

Selenite towers

Rose Quartz hearts

Chakra aligned clocks

A velvet bed for her black cat Rhiannon who follows her everywhere

She and Pandora are very sure Rhiannon can understand what they're saying and she's no ordinary black tabby

A little tree area for her barn owl Athenais as well

There's at least two cat drinking fountains in there

There's so much muggle cat merchandise and don't you think that the other cats in the castle aren't a wee bit jealous!

She refers to Rhiannon and Athenais as her familiars like in old muggle lore about witches

Her dorm also has so many posters, posters of her favorite movies like To Sir with Love, Xanadu, The Way we Were, Georgy Girl, What's up Doc?, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (which Sirius is now obsessed with), Cabaret (which looking at her relationship with James and Regulus makes so much sense), Grease, Ice Castles, A Star is Born, Belle de Jour, Gigi

there's also posters of her favorite music like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Phil Ochs, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Simon & Garfunkel, The Beatles, Sly & the Family Stone, Diana Ross, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, T. Rex, David Bowie, Roxy Music, Slade, Sweet, Thin Lizzy, The Velvet Underground, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Blondie, Talking Heads, Rory Gallagher oh how shes in love with Rory Gallagher! There's the Bee Gees, Fleetwood Mac, Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, Serge Gainsbourg, Marvin Gaye, and she has these records as well.

She has posters of Muggle pagan festivals she has attended as well

Her room is also covered in plants, she has a green thumb both magical and non magical and during the school term she does miss going to a farmers market for flowers and has been slowly convincing Madame Pomfrey, along with the help of Frank Long bottom to open a Hogwarts flower market in the courtyard on Sunday mornings.

It's her seventh year and it has finally worked

She runs it with Frank

Which James and Regulus kind of hate

Because they know Frank used to have a thing for Lily (who hasn't) and still kind of does, and so does his girlfriend Alice, and they're in an open relationship

And they're worried those two might try to steal their flower away

But Lily assures them they're not

And that Frank and Alice are very sweet and respectful people who easily know when their affections aren't returned

But her boys are still not too happy, and after the Sunday flower market ends they always drag their flower back to bed

They all have their own Head dorms and alternate between the three

But none of them sleep alone anymore

Back to Lily's realm (dorm)

It smells like Lily

It smells like pure and untarnished peaches, french apricots, sweet white nectarines, and syrupy honey all cut with earthy lavender.

To James and Regulus it smells like home

She has her macrame and her needlepoint and knittings littered everywhere

Shockingly

Lily isn't the nearest out of the trio

Her mind gets forgetful and her room is clean but cluttered

It's a good thing she has very anal boyfriends who have to have a place for everything✨

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #43:

Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, Part 1

So, there I was: idling at a stop light this afternoon, my windows rolled all the way down due to a what-must-be-proof (as if we need any more) of-climate-change February heat spell as NPR updated me on all the day's hateful nonsense, when lo and behold, lo and behold, lookin' for my lo and behold, the silky and frantic vibes of Neil Young's first full masterpiece wafted in from the car beside me:

"Sweet tune dude!" I called out to the guy beside me while snapping off Ari Shapiro altogether. "Crank it up!"

The driver - white, younger-than-me, and pensive - stole me a look of fear ("who, oh who, is yelling at me?") which turned quickly to joy ("oh wow, they like my song!") and then just as quickly to permanent disassociation ("this whole interaction is weird: that old guy hollering must be drunk"). He did not turn up the song.

But man, I was fired up all the same. Down By The River! Where else does Young summon up that much surprise and drama without employing dense, original poetry and/or a whole fleet of effects pedals? The song is pure Neil: lunching about over a tremendous groove, he's all shimmer and doom.

Be warned: it's likely to take me five or six posts and just as many weeks to get to the bottom of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, Young's second solo record and his first with Crazy Horse. Today's post is merely a warm up. So before we dive fully in, let's set a few things straight about my drive-time moment with Neil...

Why, you ask, was I listening to NPR instead of Neil to begin with?

Glad you asked! My records aren't my only possessions harvested from the dollar bin. My everyday ride, a battered silver Honda Civic with 224,648,425 miles or so under its cracked belts and our other car, an equally old Toyota Sienna with half the miles but just as much debris within it, were both plucked from a dollar bin of sorts: namely, my lovely, aged parents didn't want them any more so my wife and I gladly paid them very few dollars.

The Honda recently rechristened itself Lurch, and the new moniker isn't an ode to Neil and The Horse's sweet rockin' vibe in 1969, nor is it an ode to Neil's increasingly staggering and sloppy new efforts with the freakin' Chrome Farts; rather we now call my car Lurch because that's about all it does these days: accelerates and then reconsiders; brakes and then shudders. Indeed, the odds are good that someday very, very soon my own Little Honda will decide that first gear ain't all right after all as it lurches to a stop, then starts sliding down the hill I was attempting to mount. When that moment comes I'll throw the thing into park and then order my students, children or pets out. They'll have to then push me to wherever it is that I need to go.

In short, it's time for me to get a new, very-used, of course, car asap, and that's why I was driving our Sienna instead of the Honda this afternoon when the pensive kid I hereby name Rockin' Joe Scaredy Pants heard me shouting at him about his sweet song selection.

You can put 2 and 2 together and know why Lurch doesn't let me play Neil: it barely plays NPR. But what about our Sienna? Well, even in that vastly improved setting I've got access to nothing but FM stations. And no one out there is gonna make me listen to Coldplay songs about all the colors I abhor sandwhiched between ads for new cars I cannot afford. So NPR it is.

And, even if I miraculously got my hands on some smooth new ride, I still wouldn't be able to listen to Neil in the car. After all, every CD I own sits forlorn and despised in a closet, not because of the music on it but because of the technology behind it. I guarantee you that every one of those circular plastic pieces of waste will still be choking up the planet when you and I are Gilgamesh-level ancient history, and I guarantee you that if I tried to play any of them at this moment it would skip.

And Bob Dylan, while dreaming, is the only person I know who might have access to a record player inside a car...

Then again, maybe he leaves the Cadilac before attempting to pay his Con Ed bill...

But, even so, why not use your freakin' phone to play Neil in the car, you reasonably suggest. Dude, my phone flips, and I don't mean in the Nils Lofgrin sense. I mean that I can swing my circa 2006 phone open any time I want and, usually, it will make a successful phone call. But that's it. Texting? Nah. Spotify? No way.

Even so, Dollar Bin nerds will remind you that there is yet another way I could and should be listening to Neil in the car instead of begging Rockin' Joe beside me to provide the entertainment: my classic Ipod. The thing has over 23,000 songs on it, and over 3k of them are by Neil. I'll bet I've got 16 different versions of Down By the River digitally harnessed within its slim form, from the Booker T take I just about lost my lunch to while in the ninth row of the Fabulous Forum in 1993, to Le Noise era live electric solo shoutings to so many slow and terrifying Massey Hall era acoustic takes, to International Harvesters 20 minute hoedowns to... okay you get the idea.

So why don't I just plug that Steve Jobs thingamabob into my cars already?

Are you kidding me? My Ipod hasn't held an undocked charge for more than 16 seconds since 2016. Both cars, theoretically, if you have the right cord, and I don't, let you plug the device in but there's no foolproof way to simultaneously slip it some juice. My Ipod is not car capable.

And that means that when it comes to Down By The River there's just two foolproof methods at my fingertips. I can either drop the needle on my beloved dollar bin copy, or abandon my route, shift Lurch in high gear and follow Rockin' Joe Scaredy Pants all over town.

[bnunnykawaii]

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

this... was marvelouslly written but wtf did i just read and why was it sent to my inbox???

[bimuselee]

Was hanging out with a friend tonight and I told them it was unfathomable to me that despite Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan being very different guys, James Mangold somehow managed to make the same movie about both of them (at least in regards to the love triangle).

We started speculating on which musician he would make a biopic about next and in a stroke of horrible inspiration, they suggested Eric Clapton 😭😭😭 I'm going to lose it if this happens 😭 I hate how perfectly this aligns with his interests 😭

[joannerowling]

whats really impressive to me about A Perfect Unknown is that you come out of the movie absolutely hating bob dylan and hating his switch from folk to rock (might be a controversial opinion idk but that was the case for me). i think it is a very interesting movie when it comes to cultural history but if you put that folk/rock switch aside i agree it is extremely conventional and not particularly great. all that being said, i think my next watch will be a real pain with jesse eisenberg and kieran culkin. i cant wait for it

That was not so much the case for me. I mean, i thought he was a jackass for the way he treated Sylvie and briefly Becca (i felt less bad for Baez because, presumably, she knew what they were doing since he was publically with another woman), but this is, you know, average musician shit so i expected it.

(Also, it's like for Marx: cheating is bad and a good reason to break a relationship, but i'm not going to mentally "cancel" someone because of it.)

No, mostly i thought "damn, this movie is aptly named because i came out of it knowing jack shit about Bob Dylan". Is he using everyone around him to get famous? Is he sincere? Are his lyrics about something, or is it all bullshit and he's just a talented sellsman? We simply don't know, which is fun for five minutes but becomes frustrating very fast. It's like the movie was trying to say two things at once:

On one hand, you had this folk/rock tension, which is really less about music than it is about politics, but the movie is SO light on showing you the latter and why The Beatles and The Kinks Are Bad News (lol) than the average viewer probably does side with Dylan by default, because without that context, the others act like grumpy grandpas who don't want to get on with the times already.

And on the other hand, there's Dylan himself being caught between a rock and a hard place as he seems to crave both fame and anonymity at the same time. Which has potential, as an idea to talk about artists (and could be especially relevant today), but i think the refusal to give out anything at all ends up making him look just like a bit of a dick who lies for no reason and fails at really bringing up the idea at all.

I think i would have liked the film better if any of these two themes had been more wholly embraced and better developped.

Please tell me what you think of A Real Pain when you see it (i'm seeing Maria today, we'll trade!).

[a-silly-poll-side-blog-yay]

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

My honest reaction