#caste dischordance

[xtrablak674]

Irreconcilable Differences

Nothing encapsulated the state of this relationship better than these two words. I am not sure I have any other words for my former womb-mates, point of clarity we are not triplets, we're each two years apart with me being the first in the second set of kids. Did you like how I did that?

I will be deliberately steering away from certain words in the description of these people, and that should say all that is necessary about whom they are, if they come up in conversation I generally use the word 'former'. That always tickles the children, 'children' is the broad term I use to describe their progeny, as you remember I lack any of my own.

This was taken around two-thousand two, I still have that sweater which I copped at Banana Republic, warm and cozy. We were on a road trip to Virginia I think, where one of them was currently living. Curiously our mom's roots are based in Virginia. This may be the reason the aforementioned was residing there. I met some relation I think, but have never interacted with them again. The only thing I could remember is that they owned hotels and had a lovely house, so to me it was nice to hear that not everyone on my moms side was total trash. Opps, that actually sounded like a strong feeling, we're trying to avoid those. #PleaseExcuseMe

The only other thing I have to say about this image is it was the only time one of them other than me sought to capture an image of all three of us together. Mary would be proud that I made an attempt, I mean I made continually attempts for at least a couple of years, every month traveling all the way up there to interact with their kids, but didn't have the wherewithal to attempt continued connections. On my own I couldn't repeatedly be exposed to a level of judgement, thinly veiled hostility towards who I am, and the very incorrect notion that I owed them something.

The last time we were together was at one of their weddings, at which one of them didn't even greet me, after I took all the time to travel the two hours outside of the city, looking flawless with my loc petals and I am given less respect than a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of their shoe.

Let the record show that I have not ever had any wedding of my own, but have attended both weddings for her other lineage, and at both I seemed to be a pariah of sorts irregardless of my best efforts to be warm and friendly to those who held less than a care for me. I had reached my limit, I tried for nearly a decade to repair the natural dissolution of our connection, but seemed to be doing that work by myself, attempting to honor what I know mommy would have wanted.

That was ten years ago I believe, I only know this because one of the kids had said something and I made a mental note, that I didn't realize so much time had passed. My peace had been maintained so continually, it was hard to be cognitive of all the spiritual energy those visits cost. I did the best that I could and all I could do was attempt to take care of my own mental health and well-being. This is the one thing you're left to when you have no descendants of your own, you have to be the one to make sure everything is good for you. As I have said previously, her Man O' Da House is doing alright, by my damned self.

[Photos by Brown Estate]

[teefa85]

And you didn’t think I’d leave World 2 without one last rumble with Gilgamesh?  If only to hear Battle on the Big Bridge again.  I don’t care that I have no use for Excalipoor in this team...

It went well, although he hit Lenna with a Dischord right out of the gate so she just cast Protect on everyone and then healed status ailments.  That and Bartz having a strange obsession with Sonic Boom (you’re not Guile, idiot!) while Krile used more sensible Gaia spells.

But we’re set up for the next fight as if I’m going into World 3 just so I don’t do a dumb and forget to change it up before entering Tycoon Castle.  Can’t have all my good gear in a class I need stuck on Lenna while she’s missing for a dungeon...

...she’s been the Monk for a while anyway and that’s the Class I can most afford to not have!

[convertgrapeling]

Hot take that 90% won't care about and 10% will passionately disagree with - that bit in Les Mis where multiple people are singing different lyrics during "One Day More" doesn't work. It doesn't work with Russell Crowe and Hugh Jackman stumbling through it and it doesn't work with a professional West End cast. It's too many things going on at once. It's a dischordant mess.

I understand that nobody cares, but someone has to speak truth about this, I feel like I'm losing the plot.

[444words]

444 words about...reflection…

When I think about the word reflection I immediately think of 2 things...the casting back of an image (like the person staring back at me in the mirror) and self-reflection; thinking about my things. I think it’s interesting how my feelings about my reflections change. I think it’s interesting that some days I feel good about what I see and some days I don’t. I think it’s interesting because the subject is always the same...ME! So it doesn't really make any sense that my feelings about it change from day to day. On the flip side of that coin, I have also come to know that what’s inside of me changes from day to day and that is what truly influences both my reflection of myself in the mirror AND my reflection of my thoughts. When it comes right down to it; many of my thoughts about myself and my outer image once centered around what others would think of what they saw. Would they like how I look? Would they think I’m pretty? Did I also look like a strong athlete? Would they think I’m the right size? Am i Keeping my shit together? Am I maintaining the image? Is my reflection actually reflecting what I want it to? ... What everyone thinks it should be? These were the thoughts I would have, reflections if you will, about the image I was casting out. Let me take it one step further… Why in the hell is my outer appearance a REFLECTION of who I am?? Does any of this really show who I am as a person? Why do I care???

I have reflected enough to know why I care. I have done enough reflection and growth to admit that I did care...A LOT...so much, in fact, that my self talk was just down right RUDE. I would never have spoken to anyone the way I would speak to myself about my own reflection. I have learned that beauty on the inside is reflected on the outside. I have learned that when I feel dischord on the inside, I am harsh with what I see on the outside. Peace on the inside; beauty on the outside. Chaos on the inside; displeasure with the outside. Confidence on the outside; beauty staring back at me. Shame on the inside; ugly is all I can see some days. When it comes to reflections, do I always like what I see? No. Is that ok? Yes. My ugly is a guide. I must reflect deeply on my ugly words and feelings; for they are my roadmap toward reflecting true beauty.

[ripflemeth]

THIS IS 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 !

A Dragon Age Roleplay Server on Dischord!

When Hawke is wrest back from the Fade following Here Lies the Abyss, it’s not without cost. The Veil further destabilizes, blending realities in pockets across the southern continent, creating dreamscapes out of the waking world. With demons out in full force, it’s up to our 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒 to mend the imbalance of the Fade—so long as they can resist the onslaught of horror and temptation staring back at them.

We offer:

A preset world with ample opportunity to explore your muses’ fears, desires, and dreams;

A growing cast of canon characters with plenty of room for more;

An original character-friendly environment;

Some D&D-inspired RPG elements to keep hostile encounters in our Fade-saturated areas fun and challenging; plus,

An 18+ server that is intuitively organized, bot-supported and LGBTQ+ affirming.

Questions? Just stop on by our server—the 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 admin team is happy to help. ♡

https://discord.gg/ZnA5qvcR @roleplayfinder

[newleafover]

OK my top 10 niche interests

I forget who all tagged me in this but I think it was @alienfuckeronmain​ and maybe @progmetallesbian​ who started this thing? Sorry it has taken me so long that I forgot who tagged me! If you see this and would like to do it too, consider yourself tagged! And feel free to send me/tag me in yours; I love knowing fun things like this about people! For “niche” here I went with “I have never or very rarely talked to someone who can keep up with me on these subjects”

1. Saturns. The cars. The perfect little 90s cars that are pretty much the only American-made early 90s sedans that you still see running on the road today. They’re such good cars. I get excited every time I see one. I am NOT a car guy but I can talk shop about Saturns exclusively.

2. Gerard Manley Hopkins-- like, yes, his poetry, for sure, I am obsessed. I may have his handwritten poetry tattooed on my body. But also his repressed gay SELF. I went through a phase of reading every biography (all two of them) written about him. I had the British Library send me the unpublished poems of the boy (Digby Dolben) who GM Hopkins had a crush on in his youth. He was largely my inspiration for writing Constant Debauchery, actually. I love his sad gay ass very much.

3. Whistle Down the Wind-- because @alienfuckeronmain​ and I can have hers and little-hers matching obscure Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals. I was so deeply into this musical (which never made it to Broadway btw) when I was 15 and I still know it STUPIDLY well and know the casts and everything. It’s basically Phantom of the Opera but the teenage girl is even younger and there’s SO MUCH JESUS IMAGERY and James Dean references, and there’s really bad race politics going on because it’s supposed to take place in the south but the London cast recording has so few American actors so it’s full of small children doing horrible Louisiana accents, which is amazing. The lyrics were done by Jim Steinman which is EXCELLENT because he’s the genius behind Meat Loaf’s good records and also the classic hits “Making Love out of Nothing at All,” “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” and most importantly the often forgotten amazing 80s girl group Pandora’s Box. He’s amazing because if some lyric or melody (or entire song!) he wrote didn’t get enough attention, he just REUSES IT and puts it in another project. So there are entire verses in WDTW that are just straight up lifted from Pandora’s Box’s album. I just love it all so much, it’s so bad.

4. Lar Lubovitch’s Othello-- this is the gayest ballet I’ve personally ever seen done by a major ballet company. I know there are probably gayer ones. But god do I love Iago/Othello on ANY given day, let alone when these amazing dancers are doing an incredible intense homoerotic m/m ballet pas de deus about it. I can hardly find ANY pictures or videos of it online, but the whole ballet is on Youtube (and features Yuan Yuan Tan, who is a treasure.)

5. Celia Johnson-- Maybe she’s not really obscure or anything but the level to which I think she’s the most beautiful actress and went out of my way to track down all her movies is probably unusual. I have a big problem about Sagitarrians with beautiful brown eyes.

6. I don’t know what to call this one and it’s definitely weird and appropriative, but it’s like, creepy sounding choral music? Usually some kind of Christian? and very old/traditional? Preferably with single-gendered choirs? Let’s just say the Russian Patriarchate Choir is in my top 10 most listened to artists on Spotify and I am NOT proud of it lmao.

7. The Puzzle Place-- I don’t think enough people watched this show in the 90s. It had great songs that still get stuck in my head. It was also so much about the one white guy in this friend group of POC (puppets of color) learning about privilege and sensitivity, but without him becoming the main character or the center of the show (like at all).

8. 1980s Washington DC hardcore-- If Dischord released it in the 80s, I listened to it at some point. And I especially listened to the early projects of Guy Picciotto from Fugzai. I don’t love how much I know about these white suburban boys, but I do know a lot, so there we are.

9. Early Elton John-- his first albums, BEFORE Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Maybe this isn’t niche after that movie came out last year, but I can talk about different demo recordings of songs and stuff, and when Skyline Pigeon started at the credits of The Favourite I flatlined a little.

10. Psychobiddy movies-- I do have a blog dedicated to them that I never get around to actually doing anything about. So mostly we just watch them and collect the DVDs. But if anyone wants to chat about the lesbianism in What’s the Matter with Helen? or Who Slew Auntie Roo?, I’m down!

I can’t believe I didn’t even talk about Banjo Kazooie...

[skz-belle]

Forgiveness

Summary: Belle and Minho’s inability to cooperate leads some of their friends to take drastic measures.

Genre: angst to fluff

Warnings: a bit of language

Word Count: 2.1k

m.list

After their rather eventful first meeting, Belle and Minho met many times but it was anything but friendly. Glares and the occasional degrading comment were common between the two. It was a matter of pride for both of them; neither wanted to break the now common tension between them due to past anger and resentment that had built up. Jeongin and Jisung knew of the incident that sparked the feud, and while they empathized with the girl, they thought it was a small reason for such an extensive and intense hatred.

After accepting Chan’s offer to join his group, she learned that Minho was a member as well. She immediately went straight to Chan. She found him in a mostly empty hallway in the company, and immediately began bombarding him with questions. 

“Chan, is Lee Minho really in the group?” Belle’s face was scrunched up in concern, and Chan sighed having sensed this conversation coming.

“Yes, he is. He is a great vocalist and an even more amazing dancer.”

“And an asshole.” Belle’s quip didn’t phase Chan at all, and he looked rather disappointed in the girl.

“Belle, can you please work through this? Having both of you on the team would be so amazing. Plus, you two are more similar than you know. If you could put aside your differences and just-”

“If any sort of forgiveness is going to happen, he needs to apologize first.”

“Belle, you-”

“Chan, I adore you but I really don’t want to hear it. Tell him to grow a pair and apologize.”

“He said the same thing. You can step away from the situation and see it from an outside perspective- he can’t. Please just humor me.”

“I’m sorry, Chan. I can’t do that this time. If it is meant to work out, it will, but I am tired of thinking about him.” The conversation changed topic when Chan saw that she was adamant about not speaking about the boy any longer. Belle and Minho’s dischord had placed Chan in a difficult spot and was forcing him to make difficult and rash decisions. He had spoken to Woojin and Changbin prior to his talk with Belle, and they had devised a solution; however, this solution was rather chaotic, unorthodox, and extremely cliche. Thoughts ran through Chan’s head as he sent a simple text to both Changbin and Woojin.

Chan: the plan is on. meet me in thirty minutes and bring minho

With that out of the way, he continued speaking with Belle, mainly about the plans for the group and possible production ideas. 

“Oh, 3RACHA is having a brainstorming session soon if you want to join.” Chan hoped his voice wouldn’t fail him under pressure; there was no session scheduled, this was one of the first steps to the plan to bring Belle and Minho to a truce.

Belle’s face lit up at the prospect of accompanying 3RACHA, and she fervently nodded her head, “That sounds great! You should really know my answer by now, Channie.”

“Hey, I just wanted to ask. We are going to meet in a practice room in just a few minutes, so let’s head on up.” Chan’s voice held true, and he sounded perfectly normal to the unsuspecting girl. He felt a bit of remorse for what he was about to do. It wasn’t horrible by any means, but it would still place Belle in a situation she would prefer to avoid.

Chan stops in front of a practice room, and Belle looks at him in confusion. “I left my laptop in my bag. You go on in- I think the boys are in there already.” Belle nods and enters, as Chan seemingly turns away. She enters the nearly vacant room to see Lee Minho sitting against the far wall with an unreadable expression upon his face. Their eyes meet for a second, before a click forces them to look to the door. Chan’s face is visible through the small window embedded in the door and he shoots the two a sorrowful look, almost as if to say sorry for the situation he caused. He looked at his phone and began typing, and a text popped up on both Belle and Minho’s phones.

Chan: I’m sorry we had to do this, but please resolve whatever is happening. We will let you out when you have become civil. We love you both- please make up

Minho scoffed once he read the text and looked to Belle with the same unreadable expression adorning his facial features. “We could have avoided this if you had been kind from the start.” Belle’s eyes darkened with anger at the accusation.

“I apologized the day we met. I am not the one in the wrong here.”

“You have been awful to me ever since that day. Don’t talk about apologies when you make a point to be rude.”

“Like you haven’t made it a point to be rude to me?” Minho’s face softened a bit at the accusation but quickly regained its cold fasade.

“I have only been giving back what I recieved.”

Belle laughed a tired laugh and shook her head in exasperation, “Y’know what? This is pointless. You have no intention of reconciliation and I am not in the mood to argue for hours. They have to let us out eventually.”

“They do, and until then I am done talking.” Minho huffed as he crossed his arms and pouted like a toddler. Belle scoffed at the childishness, even though she had done the same numerous times.

After an hour had passed, with no sign of escape happening anytime soon, Minho groaned out of frustration. The air in the room had been tense for the entirety of their stay and it was beginning to wear on him. It felt as though the room was suffocating him, and Belle wasn’t faring much better. “When are they going to end this?” Minho’s sudden question cut through the air and startled Belle, who had become accustomed to the piercing silence.

“What happened to you being done with talking?” Minho let out an inaudible sigh; he knew that he kind of deserved that one.

“Why are you so mad at me? I wasn’t the only one who messed up when we first met.” Minho’s question was spoken so quietly that Belle almost missed it, but she managed to pick it up. She looked to Minho with disbelief, only to be met with Minho’s large eyes looking back at her with pure curiosity gleaming from them.

“Are you serious?” Minho nodded slowly, and Belle was flabbergasted, “You insulted my mental and physical capabilities, and made me feel like dirt. I know I was late leaving the practice room, but I apologized right then, and you did not. So, sue me for being a bit bitter that one of the best dancers in the company insulted me and called me a fool.” Belle’s admission of his talent did not go unnoticed by the boy.

“One of the best dancers in the company, huh?” His tone was teasing, but he was amazed that anyone thought of him in that light.

“I know you probably hear it all the time- there’s no need to rub it in my face. Plus, out of my whole spiel, that is all you got?” Belle wanted to be mad, but for some reason she struggled to keep the beginnings of a smile off her face. This was frustrating for Belle, as she desperately wanted to stay mad at him; he had insulted her pride and her self-worth, which had him worthy of her spite in Belle’s eyes.

“You know, I thought you were insulting me before we even spoke to each other.” Minho cast his gaze to the ground as he admitted this to the girl. Belle’s eyes widened in confusion and she immediately looked to the boy, who refused to return her gaze. She was puzzled as to why he thought such a thing, but luckily for her, Minho kept talking to explain further, “It is probably stupid, but I thought you refusing to leave meant you thought I wasn’t worthy of even trying to improve?” His statement came off as more of a question than anything else. It was clear that he was questioning himself.

“I never thought that. I was actually going to try to leave early to stay out of your way, but I got caught up. I was kind of scared to meet you. I mean, you’re talented and well known and I didn’t want to embarass myself.”

“You’re talented too. I hear it from everyone. That was partially why I came to that conclusion. I mean, I thought the praise may have gone to your head and you thought you could just stay.”

“I’m sorry I made you think that.” Belle was a bit ashamed. She didn’t take into account his innermost feelings that were driving the feud. He had valid reasons that she inadvertently and confirmed to be true. It broke her heart to know she hurt someone in such a way.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have talked to you so harshly. And I’m sorry for provoking you as much as I do.”

“I’m just as guilty of that as you, and I am sorry too.” Belle and Minho both had big smiles on their faces.

“Wanna start over, maybe?” Minho shot Belle a hopeful grin and Belle was ecstatic to see an emotion of his directed at her that wasn’t negative.

“I was already planning on it. I’m Belle. It’s nice to meet you.” Belle walked over and pulled the boy up from his sitting position.

“I’m Minho, it is indeed a pleasure m’lady.” Minho did a mock bow similar to how one would centuries ago, and he kept a pure smile on his face to show he meant no harm. “Now, since we are still stuck here, what do you say we learn a dance together?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Hours later, Chan, Woojin, and Changbin made their way back to the still locked practice room. They had left to give the two the time and privacy they needed, and were anxious to see what awaited them.

“What if Minho escaped and left her there?” Changbin had been listing off various impossible scenarios on the long walk back, which made the other two begin to grow as concerned as he was. “I’m telling you, we should have stayed to make sure nothing got out of control.”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Besides, if anyone could escape it wouldn’t be Minho. Belle is crafty, she would trap him in there if she could.” The trio laughed at Woojin’s remark, knowing Belle’s drive and ambition often led her to do spiteful and crafty things like the proposed scenario. 

“She would-” Chan was cut off by a loud thud that reverberated through the halls. The only room it could have come from was the one with their friends trapped inside. They looked to each other with worry-filled features before sprinting to the door. They looked through the window in shock to see Belle sprawled out on the floor with Minho laughing at her. Their concern only grew, and they barged in as soon as they unlocked the door. Minho looked at the three with surprise written on his face. Though, before they could begin questioning him on what happened, Belle, having not heard them yet, began speaking to Minho.

“I swear, if you drop me one more time you’re going to get it. It’s a simple lift! I swear, you’re a mess.” She pounced up and grabbed him by the shoulders before pulling him into a headlock and messing up his hair, as one would do with an annoying sibling.

“Yah, stop that! It is a hard move! And also, we have company sweet-cheeks.” Minho said in between laughs and whilst struggling to breathe through the girl’s harsh, but loving, hold on him. Belle stopped instantly to see the three intruders with dropped jaws and wide eyes. They had not expected the two to be so affectionate in such little time. 

Changbin snapped out of the surprised haze first and simply chuckled. “I told you my plan would work. I had no doubts whatsoever.” While they began to playfully argue about whose plan it was, Minho and Belle shot each other a look. They skillfully made their way to the door without catching the attention of the bickering trio. They slipped out and locked the door. Minho pulled out his phone to text them.

Minho: When you three stop arguing, we will let you out ;)

The three had still not noticed their phones, as they were too engrossed in the playful banter, and Belle just sighed.

“It isn’t the best payback, but I guess it works.”

“They’ll notice eventually. That is when it is going to get good.” The two continued to laugh and joke as they walked away from the scene with a new friend and a content smile on both their faces.

[vagabondprophet]

The Lowest Point

Water always knows the lowest point

And it has settled in my heart,

It is the groundwater beneath the cemetery

The fountain from things dead,

There is only enough light to cast shadows

And not yet barren enough to conceive

Hopes flickering torchlight

Gets robbed in the night.

Stuck behind this calcified prison

My soul struggles to breathe,

Awakens to dreams of

Crows beaks on my seems.

Lungs struggle to breath oxygen

Preferring instead the smoke

From my own smouldering virtue

Left burning in the wake of

Things I knew I ought not have done.

All of this and more

Is a welcome disaster

For the rebellion in my ventricles

Rejoices with the news

Of more dischord and more chaos

And more good monsters

Who refuse to use their claws

For anything at all.

Everything inside me

Becomes a cyclone

When I forget to look to you,

Nothing but thunder ever comes

When I attempt a brainstorm.

With no room for waywardness

How is it that you call me yours?

I need you to tear me limb from limb

Break my ribs off this big oak trunk

Use them to pierce my side,

My teeth won’t last as long as my smile

That springs to my cheeks when

You catch me completely unprepared

For the way truth echoes through my bones.

Your breath is thicker than water

Overwhelm my lungs

And drown me in that fact.

-Vagabond Prophet

Thank you @josy57 for prompting me with ‘a welcome disaster.’

[stupendoustrashmagazine]

Prelude

Tonight the act of naming fell through the floor.

We speak permeable solids inflected by light

Move indistinctly: palate of windshield 

Crosshatch hop-cross’d with Ovidian shift,

faux forest, treat’d with colors from closet

Plait plat in a plot to track flotillas down,

Hot air balloons up, celebrating distant

Prairie fair. Farmer’s burnoff coils tall

Ash columns, formations above turbines white.

Learn to kill that hunger for thunderhead drift. 

Can follow on foot synapse, taste confit,

Sketch figure, set type, code python on limb,

Design legend for—scratch the map, lost.

I want the aura to aural irrespective of sense

the quartet of styrofoam boats & balloons

of plastic bags forgiven along with conductor,

for it to catapult group out open window,

An aria, moved, moving, with others. The spleen 

Racket, melange dischord allowing 

harmony’s plural means of resolution.

Pipe seams bead’d with silver solder &

Dreams warp’d with passion’s endurance.

The trespass into yard with inflatable pool

where algal sideburns pastoralize 

a celebratory drowning ritual. 

Come back. Help me frame Matisse (guilty 

Strokes), rust the iron, damper temperment

Unclothed. Spill the hamper & sing it,

that magnolia 

We’ll stay long enough for faith in 

each other’s visions. For something beyond

earthly suffering. Sucked dry wax & cone. 

It is unfortunate, the dragonflies are

Purple & beautiful, abdomen metallic

terrae, nodes aggregate, curvature &

husk. Nearby: a field of lightning. The stroll

through it risked no electrocution. 

Cull’d from material body leads to matter again.

Association of associations.

Together, we’ll erase strip malls frosting away

In our chests, but we won’t be able to stop the ivy

From terraforming, maturing towards strangulation,

A form of survival. Walk a while into notional 

Forest, ash grey hit with newborn beetles,

No radar, cobalt blue tinted dark green.

Skykomish in Summer

In Goldbar Washington boys crossed 

river with driftwood staves feet

slick-step between slime & rock, 

underbelly of serpentine but liquefied,

algaal nets stretched between toes, 

Like scales without edge—stiffened

Cold after crossing were caverns 

shadows hold, shield from radiation,

& though they couldn’t admit this

touch was what they most wanted,

schizoid clouds temporary shelter

against frenetic sun, there in those

caverns the kids dove into pools

Spun in schools of spit & current 

Slippery grips grit on bank’s cove

tangle of nets, sunken conflagrations

Their bodies pressing against the wake   

a force there, a quiet endlessness

sound beckoning shape, the inky jar.

Repossession (1.)

Spring seeds fibrillate, sap drools.

Muddy lawns: aftermath of an approach.

Easter-green paint cracks, reveals cedar siding,

Disintegrates, falls to foundation’s edge close.

One could ask who lived here. Do most times

even though it’s’no secret. They lost it, left

We cut & to the porch fasten 2x4 handrails

(Suing a bank’s a better investment), step

Inside.Maple floorboards, worn-out testimony.

Each creak releases things outside in-

terpretation or language. Bathtub’s got

Concrete top pour’d but unfinish’d

punctured lining by PVC tubes like reeds

for lungs underwater, covered in mud.

The second story framing’s exposed, drywall 

crumbs caked, spackle pocks & joint compound

in gnarled clutches grab remains, fading.

Electrical wires in knots, pigtails,

Copper diminished in conduit. Empty

centers of things usually covered, then valued.

There is then the business of the yard

children’s toys—truck beds blue on body

red, bouquets of acrylic flowers, the 

eyeball amanita thrombosis, marbles 

½-cover’din mud.Dolls, ropes, figurines.

We clean out a carport barn, trash, 

automotive parts, motor oil, glass, aluminum.

Kinetic images sequence, make time elastic,

Revelations flaw; in sensorial beatitudes, a kind of wreckage,

Sight is a museum of things seen, they’re hostages:

Beneath the house, thousands of aluminum

Cans, vinegar, rat nests in an old tent,

Dust so fine it’s crystalline. We rake & bag for hours.

Outside, a doll hung from rhododendron

Its face torched, head cocked to the side, clothes

Missing, darling buds of May hooked at the armpit.

My boss talks about rural zoning laws

As we back out of the emptied house;

The wet half-acre prairie grass fenced-in & barbed

Waits for another debtor; we head again toward emptiness.

Repossession (2.)

In the truck. Behind us, trail-rattle

& typical thrash. My boss tells me

About the gem we’re about settle in.

It’s like wading through bodies, I think.

The metaphor breaks immediately. 

The driveway could be a fractured jaw—

I cut the grass with our Kubota mower.

The shed is fifteen feet away from the tracks

& an old sawmill spits nothing under sky.

Deadly nightshade drifts vascular across cedar

Siding, grey lead-based flakes fall in wet, cut weeds.

The red berries barrage, their Plathian pitch.

The mother-in-law’s a converted shed,

Its floor’s center sags, linoleum squares

Sepia-toned & checkerboard in easy encryption. 

I bleach & scrub the toilet, pour antifreeze in.

The makeshift porch’s missing walls on all sides:

Top hat Styrofoam insulation & DuPont

Foam curdled, cumulous, mustard & rust. I push open

The house’s door. Carpet bubbles carcinoma grey,

Whole sections swell a foot from level ground.

I taste urine & ammonium. Dust gets on our skin.

I grab my razor knife, “Rip in.” He laughs.

The carpet weighs twice what it should, I stack

Pieces on the lawn. The carpet pad has fused

In a foam matrix to subterranean linoleum.

I stab & lever it with a toothed roofing shovel.

D the cleaner & I stop. We just look at it.

Snowflakes, quite idiosyncratic, urea crystals, dust.

Maybe a year or so buildup from cats or dogs.

The bedroom the same. I laugh this time.

Tobacco stains headway, riverine drawings on walls.

Sappy window trim. Popcorn ceiling meteorologist:

Sheet of cottage cheese about to hail.

I go outside to sneak a cigarette near the tracks. 

We shovel the crystal uric acid into buckets.

Makes me think about molecular records.

An atomic record forever void its narrative. 

I pull up tack strip with a roofing shovel.

They’re like reeds, I think. We leave it

Mowed, gutted, clean. It’s quiet here near the tracks.

Sparrows. He starts the truck. Dust all over us.

We pass past things along with clouds.

We head to the dump. I unload. He reminds us

He hates dealing with the public.

Stamp

Over there in rotting field

Grows some storm with an eye

Toward an oak

One could say is trembling

But accounting for wind

Really it moves from force

& force alone while metastatic clouds 

Mid-west median June appraise

Landscape of prairie

& steel beams two-by-foured

In rows holding up a smattering,

Maybe just a platter of

Figurative three-tab shingles—

An economy of pigs, feed, birds, too:

It’s pulmonary, the bristles

Horizontally dance, thistles

In multiplication, an armory

Rucksacking its strength

Gripping seams & susceptible glue

Undone un-doing year

After year—from behind

One window of nondescription

A home chatters, clapboards flap,

Scratching like molars,

A singular flash gives rise

During descent—cast-iron

Frying each cornea clean—

Leaving in singular manner 

Carbonized stump, something

That doesn’t even look

For an original impulse

A root that once gripped

Mineral & dirt, an uneven pitch

Of earth left without

A stamp or reason for being.

[funtryandthepaladudes]

Ok, I suddenly had this idea. I know most of us are happily done with VLD now but I just had this thing nagging in my mind and I felt compelled to share it. So, most of us agree, that this last season was less than satisfying, particularly in some character development, or just plot threads. However, what if that was deliberate? What if there is one last chapter of this story they need to tell, and it's not in comics?

So, even at the time that I watched it, something struck me as odd about the closing scene. Sure I understood the significance of the Allura shaped Nebula, but it just seemed to have a different tone than everybody else's epilogue shots. And then it hit me, it felt like an after credit scene, and not just any after credit scene, but one that could be hinting at a follow up. Remember not to long ago, when a Voltron movie was discovered to be future project, what if this wasn't meant to be a standalone unrelated, and possibly live action, movie, but is supposed to act as an ultimate finale with a Search for Spock-esque plot? (Which, from what I've heard isn't the best of the Trek movies, but that doesn't have to be a factor here. )

Now, indulge me a bit as I break down what this film could look like. I will warn you in advance, this is going to be incredibly biased and self indulgent, so my story will contain Plance, Kallura and Hunay, but also some discussion about some plot stuff, like Keith's connection to quintessence, what's the deal with the entity, stuff like that. If you like it, cool. If you don't, I can't help you, but maybe instead of telling how much my pretend movie sucks and how much I suck, stuff I am quite aware of, why don't you share your ideal closer movie, with your otps and hcs? I would love to see what you would like to see, so long as it doesn't involve attacking anybody else with differing opinions. And now, this insanity.  Warning it’s reaaaaallllly long. 

Edit: Here’s a link to the Next part.

(Note: I wrote the above earlier this morning on the way to church, and the rest below later in the afternoon, and at the moment of writing this note, I’ve been working on this for about two hours, and I am nowhere near finishing it. So I will be finishing this post somewhere around the first act of my goofy pretend movie synopsis (Which is much longer than a synopsis should be because I keep going into more and more details.) and continue this undertaking in a future post or posts, provided this website isn’t shut down. (In which case, find me on Dischord under Dappie.)

I would open this with something I like to call creative recap credits, think Sam Raimi’s Spiderman 2. Once this sequence came to an end it would bleed into an actual scene, our Heroes are gathered together for Allura Day as per usual, just catching up. This is where I would bring the audience up to speed on their character development, and set up some Major and sub-plots. Hunk is gushing about his and Shay’s wedding, but he’s having trouble picking the main cook for the reception (He can’t decide between Romelle’s great instincts and Vrepit Sal’s experience and seniority. This should serve as a comedic subplot, and that’s all I’m going to say about it unless anyone asks for me to expand on it. Honestly, it’s probably something that would wind up scrapped for time.) Hunk is insisting that they better make it there, even if there is a world ending catastrophe. Now from everybody’s response, except Keith we’ll get to him, we get a little more insight into our characters. Shiro is content, but would secretly like to have a little more adventure. Lance seems to be flirtatious again, however his flirtations are focused on a single target. The target in question, Pidge, is receptive, yet hesitant. While this conversation goes down, Keith suddenly looks off in a random direction and asks the others if they hear something. Everybody seems confused, and they tell him that they don’t hear anything. However, Keith is not reassured and declares that something isn’t right. He walks away from the table, with Lance making a quip I’d imagine, and goes in search of the sound, at which point, we also begin to hear what he’s hearing. A woman humming. He as he approaches the humming becomes a little clearer and more familiar. In fact, so familiar that he begins to doubt it’s real. But Lo and behold, he turns that corner and there she is! Allura alive and well. Keith is completely shocked and begins bombarding her with questions, but she just keeps humming, as if she can’t hear him. This raises some red flags within him, and he cautiously asks again. “Allura, it is you, right?” To which the humming finally stops, and in a jump-scare like thing abruptly turns towards him and screams “We’re running out of time!” Suddenly, Keith is bombarded with visions of random parts of the galaxy, finally settling on the Allura Nebula. And then Keith wakes up. 

Cut to the interior of a bedroom, a communication device is ringing. The couple, Shiro and Curtis, groan in annoyance. 

Shiro: Why would anybody be calling us this late?

Curtis: It’s obviously your boyfriend.

Shiro: Hilarious. 

Curtis: This isn’t even my best material. 

After a little more better written exchange, Shiro finally picks it up. It is in fact Keith, and he’s calling to tell him about this dream he just had. We learn that he’s been having dreams like this for something going on a year now, and that the incident we saw in the Dream happened a few months ago, minus the whole Allura thing. Shiro advises him to maybe try to find out what exactly those flashes are, and although Keith is a bit doubtful, the recurring dreams do remind of the time he could somewhat sense the Blue Lion, only on a bigger scale. After their conversation end, Curtis asks if Keith had another cosmic dream. After, Shiro confirms this, he tells him about how Keith is finally going to try to find out what the visions contain, which might result in some kind of galactic road. Curtis asks him if he’s tempted to go, but Shiro denies that, claiming he’s had enough adventures to last a lifetime before kissing him and snuggling up to him. However, you can see from their facial expression that Shiro’s not completely telling the truth, and that Curtis doesn’t really believe him. 

In our next scene, we see Pidge welcoming a new batch of students to the premises. As she is making her grand speech she is suddenly interrupted by an officer, I’m thinking an alien, telling her that he is here to see her. She tells the officer that she’s in the middle of something, but the officer says that he told her say it was urgent. Pidge rolls her eyes as she sighs exasperatedly, and tells Chip to take over for her, who had seemingly been standing behind her the whole time. He eagerly takes over, and begins by asking who would like to try out the anti-gravity room? 

A note on Chip, I’d like to imagine him as a lovable little dink that instantly endears himself to all that meet him. He serves as Pidge’s little assistant, and is constantly updating his database on all scientific breakthroughs, but personality-wise is just fascinated by everything, and adores everyone, but none more than Dr. Pidge/Ms. Katie, his primary creator, and his Uncle Lance. My dream cast would be Sam Lavignino, aka CatBug, or someone with a similar energy and instant likability, slightly older sounding than the CatBug character. We’ll get back to him. Be afraid.

Pidge approaches the person who summoned by saying ‘For Quiznack’s Sake, you can’t keep on declaring an emergency every time you want to hang out with me, Lance! I had to make Chip take over my orientation tour for me. Do you know how irresponsible I’ll look to these new cadets now that dumped my job on my childlike android, right on the first day’

‘Well, if you don’t want me to pull the emergency card, then you should stop responding to it. And besides, you wind up having Chip substitute for most of the semester anyway, because you would rather be tinkering than lecturing. And they’re in good hands, he knows your material frontwards and back, plus he has better people skills than you.’

‘How dare you.’ she responds in fake outrage, at which they both laugh. ‘So why are you here. what’s the ‘urgent matter’ that made you abandon your farm.’ 

‘I’ll have you know, I’m here on official business too. You’re mother had another breakthrough in agricultural science, and I wanted to see if I could put this knew knowledge to use at my farm.’

‘Uhuh,’ she responds.

‘As for the urgent matter, I heard that some nerd was working on her birthday, which seriously comes into conflict with my plans to pamper and spoil her, and that’s just unforgivable.’

‘For the last time, I don’t need to do anything special for my birthday, I’m an adult!’ 

‘Then I guess you don’t want to see the ancient piece of technology, I accidentally unearthed.’ He says as he casually walks away.

‘You’re right, I don’t.’ She says as she begins to walk the other way. Only to turn around with the excuse, that she might as well have a look at it, since he brought it all the way here.

Lance shows her the tech, which may or may not turn into a macguffin later on, and Pidge is clearly impressed. It’s not quite as advanced as anything they have today, but definitely more sophisticated than its carbon dating (Is that a thing you do with objects?) would imply. She’s excitedly gushing about it, and tells him something to the gist of, ‘You didn’t have to do this.’ to which Lance responds something like, ‘I would do anything to make this happy.’ This suddenly makes everything a bit too real for Pidge, and her demeanor drops as she turns to have a solemn conversation that they had clearly had many times, when Chip comes around leading the group of cadets, who for some reason all have some kind sweet snack in their hands, and telling them general academic tour stuff in a cheery voice, only to drop everything and hug-tackle Lance once he sees him, all star-eyed and delighted to see his other favorite person. One of the cadets, does not quite know who Lance is asks about it. Chip is personally offended that there is somebody who doesn’t recognize the Lance Serrano (Or whatever your preferred last name for him is, in this pretend movie I intend to give everybody their missing last names.) on sight, and immediately begins launching into all his accomplishments, which of course impresses the cadets. They start bombarding him with questions, until Pidge tells them to stop, and then tells them to ask their questions one at a time. So an impromptu Q & A session commences in which it is confirmed that Lance is not Altean, (A self-indulgence for me, because it frustrates how many people have run with this fact, despite the marks being the only Altean trait he exhibits.) culminating in one of the cadets meekly asking if he would do a flight demonstration for them. At first he tries to decline, but Chip is excited by the idea, and Pidge eggs him on, bringing up the whole Tailor line. Lance takes her aside and asks her what she is doing. She responds that since he disrupted her job, he better make amends by contributing to the tour. He complains that he hasn’t flown so much as a cargo-jet in years, and how does she expect him to fly one of their state-of-the-art, not to mention sinfully expensive fighter-jets, without damaging it. ‘Please, a pro like you, it will be like riding a bike. And if you do crash it, I’ll take responsibility.’

‘Right.’

‘And I’ll go along with whatever other birthday surprises you have in store for me, without complaint.’

‘...’

‘And it would make Chip really, really happy.’

‘That’s playing dirty, you know I can’t say no to my favorite android.’

And so he goes along with it. At first he’s a bit hesitant, worried about so much as scuffing the fancy new jet, but before long he’s enjoying himself, and showboating to all the kids on the ground. Pidge looks up at him with a face similar to the one he was making earlier when he was watching her gush over the piece of tech. 

And we are with Keith again. He goes about trying to learn more about his dreams by asking his fellow Blades if they know someone, or something, that can help you get information from your subconscious. Zethrid says that she thinks she remembers an Alien race that could dreamwalk, and seeing as Keith doesn’t have much to go on, he decides to head out there. Acxa elects to go with him, as she is also familiar with the quadrant of space that this race resides in, and it’s a bit disorienting for the uninitiated. They get there, and convince the race to help Keith out. He is but in pseudo sleep state, and this time the memory is of the time he visited his father’s grave with Krolia. (We’re facing the front of the gravestone this time. And yes, we do finally find out Texas Kogane’s name.) Once again he hears Allura’s humming, except now it is slowed down. He approaches it, and again the visions start coming. But this time he is able to get a good look at all the images flashing in front of his eyes. They don’t mean anything to him, but in the last one, not only does he see a nebula that resembles Allura, but a small silhouette that looks suspiciously like...Voltron? The dreamwalkers have copies of all the images he saw thankfully, because a race like their’s would have found a way to transfer information out of a mind directly into images (Sort of a similar school of thinking like the Altean memory hologram things.) Back at the Blade’s headquarters, he asks if anybody know’s where the nebula is located. Nobody has ever seen something like it, but a few of them, including Zethrid, Ezor, and Axca, seem to recognize a couple of the other images. They realize that the other locations must be a path to the nebula, so Keith recruits those that knew were to find those locations to set out on reconnaissance mission. 

Here I’d like to jump around a bit. We’ll keep switching between Keith and crew’s journey, and Pidge’s Birthday Celebration. In attendance of this dinner are Hunk and Shay--Naturally, as they prepared the food--The Holt family including N-7 and Chip, Shiro and Curtis, and of course Lance. I would like this to be one of the more lighter spots in the movie, where we just see everybody’s dynamic with each other, and just exist, because after this act it’s going to get pretty heavy. One of the things that I would like to happen is that there is a projection in the background highlighting Pidge’s greatest achievements. (Including a clip of Chip first going operational, his first words being, ‘Please, define the word ‘mom’. Nevermind, I have found the definition in my Database. Be very afraid.) The party scene comes to an end, just as Keith’s expedition reach the Nebula. He decides to approach it alone in a cruiser, despite the disapproval of the rest of the crew. He claims that he has a feeling that he needs to do this alone. As he is approaching the Nebula, we occasionally cut back and forth to Pidge and Lance, who are having a conversation as he walks her home. They are discussing the day they had, Pidge thanks him for forcing her to attend her own party, Lance thanks her for encouraging him to fly again. Keith’s cruiser enters the Nebula and in the center is in fact a fully formed Voltron, seemingly deactivated. Lance asks her if she would like to hang out with him more often, alone. This devolves into a conversation (Heavily inspired by a textpost from @sp4c3-0ddity. I’ll try to find the link later.) about why them dating is or isn’t a good idea. Keith gets closer to Voltron, and realizes that it seems protecting something in its arms. The conversation grows more dramatic. Keith finally reaches Voltron, and discovers that there is some kind of a force field containing a floating young woman in the same position as the Nebula. (Wearing a light dress, because this is a family picture.) The force field allows his cruiser to pass through, and his scanners or whatsits indicate that there is a breathable atmosphere within. He opens his cruiser door? I don’t know spacecraft lingo, sue me and reaches out for the woman and brings her inside. He closes the door/hatch/whatever quickly because the moment he takes a hold of the woman the force field begins the dissipate and Voltron appears to be separating. The woman, who at the very least resembles Allura, flutters her eyes open and when her gaze locks on Keith she says ‘You’re here! Thank the Ancients, you’re here. Now we can...’ and she falls unconscious again. Meanwhile, Lance and Pidge have reached the climax of their argument. He doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want start a relationship when it’s clear there is something between them, and she says that it’s because she can’t be who he wants her to be. 

‘I just want you to be you, why else would I be asking you out? And don’t tell me this is because of Allura. Of course I still love her, but she’s gone now, and I am more than ready to move on. She wouldn’t want me to be in mourning for the rest of my life. Quiznak, if Curtis and Shiro could make it work despite their deceased loved ones than you have no excuse.’

‘That’s different, I knew Allura. She was one of my closest friends. I couldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t even be able to look at you without feeling guilty. You literally have her mark on you.’

‘Stop making this about other people, and just tell me how you feel!’ 

‘This is how I feel! Why won’t you listen to me?! Trust me, if we did this I would not be able to focus on us, because I would always have her in mind, and that wouldn’t be fair to any of us.’

Lance sighs. ‘Look, if you’re not interested in me then just tell me. But don’t act like you’re doing me a favor by refusing to date me.’ 

‘My feelings for you don’t matter! I’ve been in love with you since before we even met Allura, that’s why we can’t do this! Because I would be taking advantage of her absence!’ Her eyes widen in Shock, and she covers in mouth in mortification, clearly not wanting to reveal that much. Lance is surprised too, never realizing that her feelings run that deep. 

‘Pidge, you’re not...’ Their communication devices start ringing. Cut to the other former Paladins, who’s devices are also ringing. The pick it up and are shocked by Keith’s message. 

‘I found Allura. She’s returned!’ 

Pidge and Lance look at each other uncertainly, not knowing what this development to them. 

And this is where I stop for now. Ain’t I a stinker? Because as of writing this sentence it has almost been five hours and I need me a break. 

To be continued probably....

[ultrakeencollectionbreadfan]

Fancast--The Phantom Tollbooth

Danny DeVito--Tock the Watchdog

Dan Aykroyd--The Humbug

Keegan-Michael Key--The Spelling Bee

Tim Curry--King Azaz the Unabridged/The Mathemagician

Maggie Smith--Faintly Macabre

James Earl Jones--Chroma

Christopher Lloyd--Dr. Kakofonous A. Dischord

Seth Rogen--The Awful DYNNE

Whoopi Goldberg--The Soundkeeper

Arnold Schwarzenegger--The Dodecahedron

Gilbert Gottfried--The Everpresent Wordsnatcher

Now, I do realize this cast is rather star-studded, but since the book is such a classic, I’m sure I could get at least some of them.

[teefa85]

What I love about Fiesta rules is that sometimes you have to get creative and think of ways to get around a problem rather than just brute force it.  You need to know what the enemy can do and what the classes you have available can do.

Case in point...solved the Byblos problem with Focus!  Sure, Bartz got hit with Dischord at some point, but Faris didn’t and was doing more per hit Focus’ed than he healed back with Drain.  Which only got cast twice and only successfully hit once.  Though he was a dick with Wind Slash...Lenna still had White secondary to assist Galuf with healing.  Didn’t even need to grind!

Now, onto better things.  Though with whimpers of Soul Canon in the future.

[marblebeesthings]

Soft in slumber silence

Weeping, golden string

Taught and wild unfurling

Across the void. I start to sing

The song that I was born with,

A mourning in my bones

The wind whips forth from inside

Dischordant, dark and lone

I cry my tears for death and all

The love encased in greif

I try to catch my breath

Try to grin and grit my teeth

But the flood will not be tempered

The pain wont be ignored

No matter what I tell myself

I'll always beg for more

For one more shining moment

That I might look upon your face

To look into your eyes and see

Your beauty, strength and grace

One more shining moment

No need for tears, or words

A trembling understanding

No fear, no hate, no hurt.

And the pain, it overtakes me

Like the ocean and it's tide

It breaks me open, down and out

Rips the hope from deep inside

It feels like screaming silently

In empty, sandy voids

Where nothing knows my name or face

Nothing sees the love inside

It feels like echos rippling

Across an empty, darkened place

With nothing to recieve them

Cast out alone to outer space

It feels like dying quickly

And coming alive again

It feels like I am boundless

Tossed around by solar winds

And oh, I feel them burning

Yes, they're ripping through my skin

Stretch apart my sinew

Open up my soul, reach in

It feels like hell and heaven

And it feels like love and hate

It feels like it will never end

So I float here, cry, and wait -

Sometimes, I forget myself.

The pain is hard to feel.

In fact, I sometimes think that

It might be the only real

Experience I'll ever have,

This loss, this aching need

Sometimes, it's like all I am

Is sinew, fear, and greed

I want to let you go from here

I want you to be free

But oh, I cannot help myself

I want you here, right next to me

So I cling to every part of you

That you got to leave behind

A wallet, trinkets, plants you grew

Your art, your words, your signs.

I feel you. Deep inside my soul

An echo, echos back.

I don't care if I'm crazy.

I don't care to take it back.

I feel you. You are in my heart

I feel it, know it's true.

The best part of my aching heart

Is made and forged by you.

I feel you. You are part of me.

You'll never be alone.

And someday, one shining moment

We'll meet again

And travel home.

The darkness cannot break us.

We are bound still, soul to soul

And while it's all so painful

I will pay this, our nature's toll.

I will not let it overtake me.

I will bend, and I will fold,

But I'll never break entirely,

And I will never

Let you go.

"A Child's Love"

For Deborah Gilley, my departed mother, and all those I've lost

[amnesiacarts]

Antonia Tricarico Silent Body

Antonia Tricarico Silent Body A cura di Amnesiac Arts testo critico di Daniela Ros Cecilia, Centro per la Creatività di Tito (PZ) 08-30 Marzo 2013

Arte è rivoluzione/ Art is revolution di Daniela Rosa

"Cara Eva, l’augurio che rivolgo a te è che non ci sia mai più un 8 marzo da festeggiare né qualunque altra data che ti renda omaggio, poichè l’essere donna non è una ricorrenza, tantomeno una questione. Perché ti festeggiano? Per ricordare forse che esisti ed hai uguali diritti? Da quando hai colto la mela del peccato, ti è stato affidato un ruolo che non hai mai scelto: è questa la colpa che grava su di te e da cui devi riscattarti. Ti maltrattano. Cosa temono? La tua natura o forse il tuo potere di trasformazione. Si perché trasformando il tuo corpo, dando la vita, diventi doppia, dunque più forte. “Non senti che mentre il male veste gli uomini di rabbia rendendoli forti il bene ti sveste rendendoti fragile?” La tua fragilità verso cui tanti si scagliano è il tuo dono più grande. Leva la maschera, perché chi te l’ha messa riveda se stesso, mostra la tua ferita senza vergogna. Tu hai molto potere di scelta, solo non lo sai. Fuggi , cerca riparo, chiedi aiuto, scegli qualcuno che ti difenda, bussa alla porta e va in cerca della tua vera casa. Ciò che non vedi o non riesci a vedere è solo ciò che non conosci, che ignori. C’è gente ovunque capace di aprire i tuoi occhi. La violenza è disprezzo, a volte picchia forte, altre si traveste di familiarità e piega al ricatto, all’inganno e alla dipendenza. Diventa veleno. Non denunciare con le armi della vendetta e della prevaricazione, tu non sei più forte di un uomo, sei differente, non identificarti con lui. Non senti il coro di voci che si sta alzando da ogni dove? Non senti come il vento cambia direzione?"

Il Cecilia centro per la creatività di Tito presenta Silent Body, il lavoro fotografico di Antonia Tricarico. Autrice di importanti esposizioni in Italia e all’estero, foto archivista per Lucian Perkins e collaboratrice per numerose case discografiche americane, Antonia Tricarico denuncia con i suoi “ritratti” la violenza fisica, verbale e psicologica che sulle donne pesa come colpa e come minaccia. Le maschere sui loro volti diventano il simbolo della vergogna di chi è costretto a portarle, della vigliaccheria di chi le impone per non rivedere se stesso e soprattutto dell’ipocrisia di quanti le fabbricano, generando vittime e carnefici. Come lei stessa dice è un appello rivolto alle donne non ad emanciparsi, bensì a liberarsi da una colpa che negli estremismi politici e religiosi, nella famiglia e nello stesso dualismo cattolico, Madonna/Prostituta, perpetua una rigidità che separa e disperde. Un invito all’unità tra uomo e donna come unica via di conciliazione, un rinnovato sentire dinanzi al quale crollino i tribunali pubblici. Animata da passione documentaristica che la vede in giro per il mondo, Antonia è testimone di impegno sociale e voce importante della fotografia di reportage. In un momento di così grandi stravolgimenti storici, culturali e politici, il suo lavoro ci esorta a non smettere di porci domande sul ruolo delle donne nella famiglia, nel mondo del lavoro, della politica, della cultura e dell’istituzione ecclesiastica. L’augurio potremmo dire di un post femminismo, una rivoluzione del pensiero fondata su una corretta informazione e sull’educazione al senso civico e alla sessualità. Lo sguardo di Antonia Tricarico getta luce sul processo di demonizzazione della donna nel corso dei secoli, come sui ruoli, gli schemi, gli stereotipi in cui ancora oggi appare costretta ed esprime un’ansia di liberazione. La stessa che sprigiona oggi da una danza simbolica in cui si uniscono le donne di tutto il mondo, immagine eloquente che contrasta con quelle di caste ed eserciti. E l’immagine fa riflettere e talvolta ispira e anticipa le conquiste del progresso. In tal senso le parole di Henri Cartier Bresson risuonano quanto mai significative: “la fotografia mostra e non dimostra”. Gli scatti di Antonia Tricarico chiamano a riflettere sul valore dell’arte, che prima ancora di essere forma e tecnica, è libera espressione del pensiero. In un Sud Italia, dove la disoccupazione femminile è più che altrove una piaga sociale, Cecilia sceglie di ospitare il lavoro di un’artista che con la forza della sua fotografia spinge nella direzione di un profondo rinnovamento.

Immagino la violenza che arriva quando meno te lo aspetti, a casa, per strada, sul bus, sotto ponti umidi o sottopassaggi maleodoranti, in piazze deserte o bagni di discoteche assordanti. Immagino il terrore misto a stupore, quella sensazione che abbiamo provato tutte almeno una volta nella vita anche solo come minaccia per alcune e, purtroppo, come realta’ per altre. Immagino che chi svolge l’azione abbia occhi bendati ma non e’ vero, piuttosto credo che poggi una maschera su quel volto per non specchiarsi, non riconoscersi. Immagino che l’empatia tolga il gusto e ne delinei i contorni fin troppo crudi aiutando se stesso a dire “non ero io in quel momento”. Immagino il tuo corpo disorientato e ancora spezzato, carne fresca avvolta in plastica trasparente, pronto da esibire nei tribunali pubblici, ripetitive le parole, si susseguono e per incanto, passando da una bocca all’altra , inevitabilmente, non dicono niente. Antonia Tricarico

Antonia Tricarico e’ una fotografa che ha vissuto negli Stati Uniti per dieci anni lavorando come foto archivista per Lucian Perkins (fotografo del Washington Post e vincitore del premio Pulitzer) e collaborando con case discografiche indipendenti americane quali Tolotta Records, Kill Rock Stars, Dischord Records. Le sue foto fanno parte della collezione permanente dello Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History in Washington,DC. Pubblicazioni variano da Oregonian a Kerrang, riviste di musica americane e le sue foto sono state esposte negli Stati Uniti, Europa, Giappone e India. www.antoniatricarico.com

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

oh mara oh mara I’m not smart enough to elaborate on this rn and its not a song but but

(in my best charlie kelly voice) now lets talk about natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812 can we talk about the great comet of 1812 please mara I’ve been dying to talk about the great comet of 1812

okay first of all the vibe mara the vibe you wouldn’t expect a musical about some silly little russian guys driving troikas and making out at the opera to be able to make you cry you wouldnt right?? right so now josh groban’s character pierre he’s a wet rag he’s a little guy you could pick him up by the scruff of his neck and shake him around

this man will make you cry I don’t care if its the ending song or dush and ashes this man will make you cry pierre is a 30ish year old drunkard and I understand him

alright now I’m not attracted to women but lets talk about the women lets talk about their voices hnhnn like butter sharp and pointy butter. lets talk about how there are LEADING FEMALE ROLES WITH ALTO VOICES AAAAAAAAAA

hnhnhnnh the instrumental the use of stringed instruments is so good the entire musical FEELS like its from the 1810s also like dischordant notes? OH my god

THE STAGE THE STAGE MARA.

THE MUSICAL HAPPENS AROUND THE AUDIENCE

PEOPLE SIT IN THESE GAPS IN THE STAGE AND THE CAST DANCES AND ACTS AND SINGS AROUND THEM

you have no idea how the two stories are gonna connect like yeah tangentially natasha and pierre know of each other but like they’re the titular characters so clearly they have to connect ??

AND THEN THEY DO AND AHNNNNNNNNNNNNnn

anatole. dolokhov. that is all

anyways preparations is a c!drunz song

put this musical back on broadway.

everyone tell me about your favourite song in length why do you love it so much

[parkerbombshell]

Generating Steam Heat 201 05/13/2019

Today’s Bombshell (Bombshell Radio)Generating Steam HeatBombshell Radio 4pm EST 9pm BST 1pm PDT bombshellradio.com #GeneratingSteamHeat #Postpunk #punk #newmusic #60sClassics #Ska #60sGarage #StitcherRadio #Itunes #BombshellRadio Honey Joy-Arrive Lost (From the Everything Sucks Records Bat Boy/Honey Joys split EP 2019) The Bombpops-CA in July (From the Fat Wreck Chords album ‘Fear Of Missing Out’ 2017) Gunka-Feel The Fall (Self released digital track 2019) Feral Five-Shake It (Self released digital single 2019) The Medicine Dolls-I Don’t Wanna  Dance With You (From the self released digital EP ‘A Compulsion To Ruin’ 2019) The Pearl Harts (Double Bag Records digital single 2019) Hedwig And The Angry Inch Cast-Angry Inch (From the WEA Records album ‘Hedwig And The Angry Inch Original Broadway Cast Recording’ 2014) Devo-Uncontrollble Urge (From the Virgin Records album ‘Q-Are We Not Men? A-We Are Devo!’ 1978) Fresh-Willa (Specialist Subject Records digital single 2019) Cherry Glazerr-Self Explained (From the Secretly Canadian Records album ‘Stuffed & Ready’ 2019) This Heat-A New Kind Of Water (From the Rough Trade Records album ‘Deceit’ 1981) Holiday-Lets Go Outside (From the Pumpkin Records album ‘California Steamin’ 2017) No Problem-Get The Feeling Back (From the Deranged Records album ‘Let God Sort It Out’ 2018) Joy Division-Warsaw (From the Enigma Records EP ‘An Ideal For Living’ 1978) Soulside-Bass (Dischord Records 7’’ 1989)  The Paragons-On The Beach (From the Treasure Isle Records album ‘On The Beach’ 1967) The House Of Love-Shine On (Creation Records 12’’ 1987) Habibi-Nedayeh Baher (Modern Sky Records digital single 2018) Rotunda-37 Com (If There’s A Will There’s A Way) (From the self released EP ‘Spoils Of War’ 2019) Read the full article