#damn was that an instagram rite of passage

[laindependencialuna1899]

while it was a correct decision to leave tiktok because it was ruining my attention span, it wasn't correct to try and bend your reels algorithm just for it to show less art and more far-right, neo nazi, and conservative content

[negative-speedforce]

Club Night

Ft. @vexic929's Berrie and Eoland

Eoland almost didn't recognize her doppelgangers' brats when she got back from another satisfying day of stalking (and tormenting) Barbara Allen. She could hear the music from the house from down the street, some loud, repetitive track with a heavy bass that seemed to be saying not much else than "I'm your number one".

"I'm ready to go-" Berrie noticed Eoland in the corner. "-oh. Hi, Auntie Eoland."

"Come on, hurry up!" Sivonne, who appeared to be at least six inches taller than usual due to the massive platform heels they were wearing, dragged Berrie along by the hand. Berrie finished applying small, sparkly gems to his face, then turned to Siv.

"Don't call me that."

"Let him have his fun." Siv tossed a lock of their cherry-red wig over their shoulder. "Aren't you going to ask where we're going?"

Eoland narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Good, because you're not invited. You'll probably end up... murdering the DJ or something."

"We're going clubbing! Siv got me a fake ID!" Berrie twirled, her glow necklaces-turned-belts clacking around her waist. "How do I look?"

Eoland didn't even bother looking. Both their outfits were eyesores, composed of far too much glitter, fishnets, and glowsticks. "Fine."

"Hey, before you say anything, it's a rite of passage, sneaking into somewhere underage." Siv said. "Then again, even if you were to say something, it'd be rich coming from you, since ID fraud is a far less serious crime than being a serial killer."

Eoland's eyebrow twitched. "Sometimes I wonder why I don't kill you and get it over with, obnoxious brat."

"Oh, shut up, you know you love me." Siv elbowed Eoland. "Now, come on, let's go get wasted- or not. Because we're speedsters."

"You're sure this ID isn't gonna get us busted?"

"Absolutely, I had my friend Cat make it. It even has a dead person's social security number attached to it." Siv waved Berrie's concerns off, stopping in a mirror to apply sharp, winged eyeliner. "Fuck, I never dress femme, this is so hard."

"Here, stand still." Berrie offered, approaching Siv. He carefully matched the wing on Siv's right eye to their left, taking an extra moment to make sure the line stayed straight while it went over the dimpled scar over their eye.

Siv looked in the hall mirror again, throwing their hair back dramatically. "Berrie, get your ass over here."

Berrie scampered over to their pseudo-sibling, looking in the mirror. "Wow. We look hot."

"You two brats left without a designated driver." Eoland explained.

"Damn right, we do."

In twin streaks of lightning, the duo vanished. Eoland breathed a sigh of relief, going over to the couch. Finally, some peace and quiet.

She was never going to admit it, but the 'Instagram' that Siv had signed her up for was absolutely addicting. She'd sit down and look at it for a mere moment, then look up and realize hours had passed. Damn you, 21st-century social media.

Eoland scrolled through the phone Siv had bought her, until she reached a recently posted photo of Siv and Berrie. The duo were laughing and dancing, and Siv had two giant margaritas clenched in her hands.

But what was that in the background? Long legs, red dress, brown hair? Could it be....

Eoland tore through the house, raiding a gold crop top and matching shorts from Siv's closet. She didn't want to dress so revealing, but in an environment like that, where Barbara would be sure to notice her if she wasn't careful, she had to blend in.

When Eoland reached the club, the pounding bass and bright lights immediately assaulted her senses like a jackhammer into her temples.

"What are you doing here?" Siv danced closer to Eoland.

"Sure." Siv raised an eyebrow. "And you totally didn't see my Instagram posts and get jealous of how much fun we're having. Not to mention we're all speedsters and I don't own a car. Well, not since the cops found out the last one was stolen. You look great, by the way. Other than the fact that you're wearing my clothes."

"I can't exactly come in wearing my suit, can I?"

"You have other clothes." Siv narrowed her eyes. "But never mind. We're here to have fun."

Eoland waited for Siv and Berrie to dance away. Then, she spotted her. I have you now, Barbara.

She stalked the brown-haired woman to the bathroom, where she put her hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thought you could hide from me here, did you?"

"Jesus H. Bartholomew Christ, back off!" The lady, who was definitely not Barbara, pushed Eoland away.

Eoland's first instinct was to smash her fist through the woman's chest, though she ultimately resisted it. In a crowded place like this, she'd only draw attention to herself- attention that she didn't need.

She turned to the mirror, sneering and baring her unnaturally sharp teeth. She gripped the edges of the sink until her knuckles turned white. The porcelain threatened to crack under her grip. She looked ridiculous. What was she doing here, anyway?

Eoland heard giggling and whispering from outside the bathroom. A group of three young women came in, followed closely by Berrie, a poorly-concealed bag of white powder in one of the unfamiliar women's hands.

Eoland sighed, grabbing Berrie by the collar, dragging them out of the bathroom faster than anyone could react.

"You're not doing cocaine in a bathroom stall with strangers." Eoland scoffed. "Your speed is unstable, so who knows how that'll affect you? And they could have laced it with something, you don't know that. Has no one taught you anything, brat?"

"They were hot!" Berrie retorted. "There goes my chance..."

"No amount of physical attractiveness is worth your life. Know that."

"That's rich, coming from you." Berrie mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

[kassymalone]

Well, it must be the time of year that I have no time or energy to write, because I have SO MANY IDEAS.

Fuck it, IDEA DUMP

A KISS Side Story: Coffee Snob

Moving back to the city to be closer to work, Black is living on his own for the first time. Aside from being a little lonely and burying himself in his work, he manages just fine. Plagued by an extra intense dose of his usual insomnia, he uses his restless nights to find the best coffee in the city.

Discovering an unassuming hole-in-the-wall that's open 24 hours, he discovers the single best coffee he's ever drunk in his life, and forms an unlikely friendship with the late-night worker. As their relationship starts to build beyond the constraints of the after-hours serving window, Black starts to wonder if there could possibly be more to his life than just work and family.

Let Me Be Soft

The barrier is broken, the vicious monsters are free. With everything he ever fought for in his hands, Edge is realising that he doesn't know who he is any more. With nothing to aim for and no royal guard to serve, he's adrift in endless possibilities that he can't grasp. Taking a temp job helping out a new human friend of Toriel's, his world starts to grow as he explores new, softer sides of himself, finding fulfilment in arts and crafts and a gentle relationship that he never even imagined for himself before.

The Rooftop

You thought you were the unluckiest person alive when a broken leg trapped you in your flat a few days after you moved to Ebbott, but when a mysterious plague struck and wiped out most of humanity, it turned out you were the lucky one. While monsters are immune to the plague, they're still isolating to protect their human friends and neighbours, including the guys in your building.

Initially contacting each other by the small buildings group chat, you get to know each of guys in Skeleton Skelton Hall very well, meeting in person when restrictions relax and helping each other through the start of the end of the world.

After The Fall

Its the end of the world. Literally. Well over 99% of the worlds population is gone, and everything is falling apart. As night falls, you duck into a relatively intact building to wait out a storm, only to find something you didn't expect - a working animatronic. Moon seems to be just as lonely as you are, trapped in this rotting shell of a building alone.

Using what little engineering skill you possess, you rig him up a portable solar panel to change his batteries, and the two of you take off in a refit security van to find what's left of humanity. Finally out in the sunshine, it turns out Moon wasn't quite as alone as it seemed, and now you've got another uncontrollable friend to explore the end of the world with.

A Smile Like the Devil Himself

You only went on the damn dating show to stop your mothers incessant nagging. When you got to the beach resort, it became pretty obvious that you were the foil - the plain looking one only there to contrast the literal instagram models that made up the rest of the 'cast'. The most gorgeous of all is the nearly seven foot tall bronze god with wild red hair, Ganondorf, who mostly just seems confused by everything going on.

Unimpressed by good looks and shallow affect (because the Gerudo women were the most beautiful in the world, apparently), he ends up spending most of his time with you, much to everyone's shock. Even when the show ends, the two of you stay friends as you help him adjust to life in your country and find a wife, which is apparently a rite of passage where he's from.

At least, that's what you thought you were doing. Turns out that your new 'friend' has a very different idea of courting than you do, and he's very keen to introduce you to his mothers in Hyrule.

Whether you like it or not.

[darkerthanblack-666]

All this Käärijä/Baby Lasagna comparison drama reminds me of how much Käärijä was compared to Electric Callboy last year to the point he was accused of plagiarism. It's like... every time there's a "new" non-pop artist, they'll be compared to those more famous. If people compared pop songs/artists like that - everyone would be accused of copying

The rite of passage of every popular esc artist is comparisons to another one and accusations of plagiarism 🤣. The only comparable thing is the hype both songs are getting, but there's no huge entry to compete against, so I don't think people will drop all their votes onto one artist like last year. Unless Italy starts being a pain in the butt, but I don't think so... she doesn't have such a huge fanbase.

Also stupid people don't compare just Baby to him, I've seen all sorts of crap about "joke entries" and every fun candidate gets called by that name and they blame Käärijä for how many of those we have this year.

Clearly, they live under a rock and never see how much everyone complains about ballads and generic pop songs. I've noticed there's a clear divide between tumblr/reddit and twitter/instagram/facebook bubble and both have no damn idea what the other likes and they make all kinds of bs assumptions.

tl;dr esc fandom is a pain in the ass

[1whimsicalgal]

Have A Taste: Pam Lives! Parts I, II, & III

Three Short Stories by Pam, The Original Chainsaw Gal Herself,

aka @Chainsawgal on Instagram

By: Teri McMinn

Pam Lives! Part I

Saturday, August 18th, 1973

The Sawyers

It was on a Saturday it all happened down at the old Sawyer place, hot as hell, a real scorcher. That’s when it all went down. Old lady Faulk said she's seen 'em stop off at the cafe earlier asking for directions. Bob Hewitt, today, 81 years young, and sharp as a tack, saw 'em that day, too. "Them girls stood out, half neked, short-shorts, no brassiers. That shit didn't fly, least ways not back in '73."

Hewitt, as it turned out, proved to be a wealth of information when it came to the Sawyer family history. You can judge for yourself. This is what Bob Hewitt related to me about 'em, word for word . . .

"First big mistake was leaving him home alone, him bein' "Leatherface." They'd called him by that ever since, oh, it wuz years ago. Freddie first showed off his handiwork ta young Jed. Jed, well, he wuz so impressed, he slipped, n showed it off to Pop and Grandpa, something he sorely regretted later on. Pop and Grandpa, now they'd always favored Freddie over Jed. That wadn't no secret, bragged to anybody who stopped in at the cafe about him, and 'specially out at the slaughter house. Not Jed tho, no sir, pissed Jed-off-no-end, kept him on a low simmer ninety-nine percent a the time. "Assholes" I 'member he'd say, n as he got older it all jest got worse.

Back in '64, that was when Frederick “Freddie” Theodore Sawyer, become "Leatherface"... least ways around the Sawyer house, anyhoo. Give it to him more like some rite a passage. It wuz one that had some roots in one of Sawyers' deep... well, some real dark family secrets. Pop and Grandpop Sawyer both liked the name right off, heard 'em both call him that down at the cafe, droppin' hints they give it their o’fficial Sawyer sanction. It wuz one day I wuz in eatin' my dinner there, an' they wuz laughin' about their lil ol' party the night before, sayin' how it wuz includin' lots a Jim Beam n plenty a hootin’ n a holler-in.' Neighbors confirmed it ta me later on, but here they were a settin' right in the cafe, Red n ol' Grandpa, the two of 'em jest hootin' n kindy howlin', then talkin' low, goin' on 'bout the full moon. It wuz like they wanted me ta hear some stuff, n then they'd get ta whisperin' so's I couldn't hear the rest, n they'd look sideways over at me n smile tagether. Ta be honest I couldn't wait ta git outa there. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. Somethin' wuz off... jest couldn't put my finger on wat it wuz, know what I mean?

Didn't all start out that way though. Jed, always wuz a little weird, kindy "off" you might say, but he seemed polite, nice enough, quiet . . . always kept his head down, as I recall him. He even baby sitted for the Lanky kids now n again, n for Sheriff's kids, too. So did Freddy! Never saw it comin'. Never. Nothin' like what happened to him later. Nothin'. I 'member Freddie as a kid used to walk together with Jed to school, took care of him, ya know, like protective and all. Both of 'em wuz always dirty, n covered in bruises. I always wondered if that was a "birthmark" on Jed's face, like they said, or if somebody hadn't burnt him. Get right down to it, truth be known, Jed jest downright hated Freddie after he wuz around twelve or thirteen, hated him, 'specially after their momma, Lorrine, run off and left 'em all alone with their Pop and Grandpa.

Who can blame her? Woman wuz covered in black n blue many a time, n they worked her like a damn dog over at the cafe. There's lots a stories floatin' round 'bout how folks seen Grandpa comin' up behind her, tryin' to feel her up, kissin' on her while she wuz sweepin', her a cryin', n the whole time, her own damn husband, he'd jest be laughin' 'bout it. She run off twice n Red 'd go find her n haul her back.

End of Have A Taste: Part I “Pam Lives”

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Pam Lives! Part II

Saturday Evening, August 18, 1973

Evil Doings Inside The Sawyer House

❧ ❧ ❧ It was around half past ten in the evening of Saturday, August 18, 1973, Pam had been awakened by the piercing screams of her friend, Sally. At first, she thought she was in the midst of a nightmare, then slowly she blinked her eyes and horrible thoughts began to remind her of where she was... and what had happened earlier. As she tried to sit up she hit her head on something and then it all started coming back to her. Her heart sank. She would have no idea of how much time had passed since she had heard Jerry’s voice calling her name. The sudden shaft of light pouring into her would-be tomb, momentarily lifted her up, as though she had been thunderstruck, willing her to escape. Then, suddenly a large hand had come toward her face and pushed her back down into the cold darkness. She fell back into unconsciousness, the shock insulating her from the excruciating pain she would only later come to know very intimately.

In her one stroke of good fortune that day, Pam’s body had been transferred off the meat hook and had been placed by Leatherface, in what might have been a deep freeze-freezer, that is, IF it had been working properly. This machine was far from efficient. Working properly, the temperature would have been nearer 0-28 degrees, intermittently cutting on and off to maintain a freezing level, but this was no modern day Betsy. This was a relic manufactured by GE in ’47. Having never been serviced and damned low on freon, and as you might have already surmised by now, it had been over-used for some 26 years, and run nearly to death. Just barely cool was all she could muster, and she held at around 40 degrees. If it had been working, Pam would surely have been dead in the hour since Jerry had opened the freezer lid, or before.

Pa and Grandpa bought it third hand back in ’59, when old man Carver, the butcher from over in Elgin, “went and got hit by a train.” His pick-up died on the tracks, and he got slammed smack dab in the side by the Santa Fe Freight Express. The Eagle Eye driving the train saw him way too late to stop, and as the whistle screamed bloody murder, Eugene Carver frantically tried to get the engine to turn over, but he was too old to make any fast moves, and as the sun set, the line of two engines, 28 freight cars, and a caboose, set his fate in stone. It pushed him and the pick-up nearly a half mile, before finally coming to a stop. Carver’s favorite hunting hound, Petey, who was traveling in the back, had jumped out just in time. After the impact, Petey chased the train and his master all the way, until it moaned and spewed to a screeching halt, sparks flying everywhere. Petey was running back and forth wildly, around what was left of the truck, barking, and yelping. They found Carver, with Petey licking blood off his face and whimpering, trying to bring his old buddy back to life. True story.

When Pa and Grandpa drove over to Elgin to pick up the old freezer and bring it back to the Sawyer house, Petey was barking pretty much non stop from the very moment the Sawyer truck turned into the Carver’s long dirt driveway. He followed Mrs. Carver out to meet the miserable, stinking Sawyer duo and trusted neither of them one iota. When Grandpa Sawyer went to hand the two sweaty 20 dollar bills, and 2 crinkled 5’s to Mozelle Carver, Petey almost bit his hand off. She had to lock Petey up while they loaded the deep freeze into the back of the pick-up. Dogs smell evil, they don’t have to guess. Both Petey and Mozelle were glad to see the mongrels leave. She didn’t like that crooked, smirk smile, “Red” Pa Sawyer kept giving her. It gave her “the willies,” she later told reporters.

__________________________________________________________________________

Inside the freezer, Pam listened almost without breathing, petrified by the wild howling, hoots interjected by shouts, that were only tipped by a raucous cacophony of insane laughter. Sally’s screams were maddening, followed by her heart-rending pleas, crescendoing in the background, echoing through the walls, and then ricocheting through Pam’s brain. Her powerlessness to do anything to help her friend momentarily paralyzed her, causing overwhelming guilt and agony. Her body shook almost to a convulsive state, pain pulsing from the left side of her back, shooting down through her leg and back up again, kept in check only by her gut scorching desire to live. This is what later drove her further and further, inch by inch. Pam would never know how she was able to lift her weakened body out of the feckless excuse of a broken freezer, but she did. She pushed the lid upward, and carefully began to pull herself over the side. The pain was mind-numbing. There was one more piece of luck Pam had on that day that aided in saving her life.

Pam’s adrenaline had been at an enormously high level when Leatherface opened that steel door. She had put up such an incredible fight, almost escaping twice, surprising the dimwitted mammoth so much that in his haste, he had completely forgotten about her afterward. In fact, so much had Pam’s struggle bumfuzzled Leatherface, he had been sitting in the back of the house sweating, and almost passed out because of the searing heat in that tiny room. He was so overcome with exertion, that he had to sit down and catch his breath. He never even heard Jerry come in, and it was only by sheer accident he discovered Jerry snooping in the slaughter room! How close Jerry and Pam had both been to escaping! Truth be known, Leatherface was about as smart as a bag of rocks. He’d degenerated mentally to the level of an imbecile in the last 15 years, so much so that now, he could hardly remember how to turn on the lights, let alone keep track of three snooping kids. It was not in the cards. Pa and Grandpa had pummeled him in the head, sometimes ten or more times a day in his teens. Eventually, Leatherface had lost his ability to speak at all and was relegated to grunts and squeals. It was a tragedy of massi

End of Have A Taste: Part II “Pam Lives”

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Pam Lives! Part III

Beyond The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Part III - The Hardestys 1951 - 1962

A School of Delight - The Early Years

Sally and Franklin, first cousins, had spent their early childhood years playing at their grandparents once beautiful home. For the last 15 years, especially after Grandpa Hardesty's death in 1963, and Grandmother Hardesty's then failing health, when she became too old to live alone in the house, the 27 windows and 7 doors were soon boarded up. Grandma Hardesty was moved to Luling, to a nursing home near Franklin's family.

Saturday, the 18th of August, was to be a very special day for both Sally and Franklin, a day of remembering their beloved grandparents, and the summers they had so enjoyed there as children, running free, swimming, and fishing for tadpoles in the nearby creek. Their cherished memories of watching the stars while sitting on the lawn, or nestled in their grandparents' laps, eating corn, squash, and fresh tomatoes from the garden, had filled their thoughts and sustained them through the years. The Hardesty sons had managed to keep the house in livable condition until Grandpa Hardesty had his last stroke, and soon passed.

The two grandchildren were left brokenhearted. Grandma Hardesty became lost without her best friend, lost in grief, and was soon forgetting things. One day the month after Grandpa had passed, Sally came up from Houston to visit her with her mother. Instead of standing at the door to welcome them, Grandma Hardesty never moved from her rocking chair, and her eyes looked out the window, as though her mind was somewhere else. When Sally took her hand, Mrs. Hardesty asked who she was. Sally looked into her grandmother’s eyes as she stroked her grandmother’s long white silky braid, she'd combed so many times. Gently she said, “I’m Sally, grandma, don’t you know me?” Big crocodile tears began to stream down Sally’s face and cheeks as her grandmother's eyes blankly stared back. Sally was deeply sensitive and perceptive, most unusual for a child, and always such a determined little soul, full of love and kindness. She pulled herself up on her grandmother’s lap and held her granny close, realizing something was terribly wrong, but hoping if she held her grandma tight, and long enough, surely, surely she would remember her. Unfortunately, Grandma Hardesty didn’t remember her, but allowed Sally to stay on her lap, and rock with her for some time.

End of Have A Taste: Part III “Pam Lives”

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“Pam Lives!!” - Pam’s Three Delicious Stories!

🔴 Ordering Info & Links Below… Scroll Down

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Newly Formatted Cover Designs by Desmond Ambrose Root

INSIDE, Tadeo Mendoza’s Fab Drawing - “Pam Escapes” ➻➻➻➻➻➻➻➻

https://www.facebook.com/…/pcb.152880959…/1528808460586136/…

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🔴Prices Include ➻➻➻➻

➻➻ One Signed 5” x 7” Color Photo of Pam in Bone Room(#23) Frontal Close-Up

ALL For ➻➻➻➻➻➻➻➻

🔴➻➻ $37.50 US

🔴➻➻ Outside US. $39.50

(ie, UK, Canada, Europe, Asia...)

** Prices Include S&H

🔴 TO PURCHASE, go to PayPal https://www.paypal.com/home and access my account: chainsawgal@gmail.com

Some things feel too good to be true. Pinch yourself,… you may find out they are. 😉**

xoxo, Pam 💋♥️

🔴💃🏻❤️

[ikesenhell]

1985 Camaro

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 2. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Brief conversation about prior death, otherwise safe. Thank you @missjudge-me for commissioning this piece!

---

They camped out on the back patio until the sun set. He cooked gyoza and rice balls and some pan-fried chicken, and she ordered ice cream delivery, and they nested their knees together and tucked into a pint of something labeled ‘Just Ask’ and when he asked, she wouldn’t tell him, not even when he tickled her (It wound up being a delicious caramel-Oreo flavor). She instead told him about her degree and moving out, about keeping in contact with Mitsunari as he served in Tanzania through hand-written notes on origami paper. They swapped curated Instagram snapshots and embarrassing anecdotes and reminisced. 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “About your dad.”

Masamune shrugged. There was nothing to say. It hurt and always would, but that was his private journey. “Old bastard waited too long to have kids s’what. If he’d had me at a nice, respectable age, we wouldn’t be doing this, the old coot!” He waved a dramatic fist at the sky, relishing her giggles. “You fucked up!”

Overhead, his mother’s bedroom light flicked on. 

“Shit,” he muttered. She dropped her face into her hands to stifle the raucous laughter. 

“How—” Now she was whispering. Masamune wriggled closer, their legs reflexively entwining. “How’s that going?”

“Better than it used to. We can talk without yelling. Something something time and distance. I’m planning on hunkering down here for a little bit, and once all of the stuff is settled, I’ll probably go back north. The restaurant owners offered to hold my position for me, which is really nice.” 

“Hell yeah it is. Isn’t that kind of a cut throat world? They must love you.”

“Yeah. Good openings don’t stay open long in the restaurant biz, so that’s really cool.” Absently, he ran his thumb over the whorls of the deck. “What about you? What’s next?”

“Well.” And she paused, eyes luminous. “I got offered a job interview out east. It’s a good job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Once upon a time, when she was too nervous to really settle her heart on something she wanted, she smiled shyly and fluttered her eyes away. Some things stayed the same. His heart surged as the familiar expression played out before him. “It could be a game changer for me.”

“That the case, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I have to do some logistics, and I have to interview, right? But if I get it…” She stretched up to the sky, wriggling her fingers long at the clouds, all the prickled flesh on her arms visible in the cold moonlight. Without thinking, he shuffled closer to warm her. “I mean, I have to actually get to the interview first, so there’s the first hurdle.”

Masamune chewed his lip. “How far out is it?”

“It’s in Virginia. Complete other side of the country. The plane tickets are outrageous.”

“Damn. Guess you’re road tripping, huh?”

A gust of warm breath huffed from her lips. “I mean, I hate going on them alone, but I don’t even have a car right now. Mine got totaled; kid hit me when I was driving down here. Guess I’m taking a damn greyhound.”

His first reaction was to say ‘yikes’, and then… well. Masamune paused, soaking in the possibilities. “So you need a car is what you’re saying?”

“Mmhmm.”

Back in the day, his dad often said that the universe lined things up. Masamune didn't exactly believe in fate—he believed in making things happen—but occasionally, he saw the reasoning. 

“How do you like eighties cars?” He asked. 

She eyed him, a smile in her eyes and voice. “Like the Camaro? Sure, it’s cool. Why?”

Masamune snickered. “Everything in the Date family is cool as hell. What if I told you I could get you a car and a road trip buddy?”

The click of her brain working was almost audible. “Don’t you have to be here?”

“Gotta wait for the death certificates, which is probably a week or so. Mom wants the Camaro gone, and if she has to be around me too long, she’ll probably get sick of me real quick. I might as well make myself scarce and hang out with a dear friend. Besides—I’ll cut you a deal on selling you it. Call it a test drive.”

“A test drive? For like, a week?” But she was grinning, her shoulders angled in toward his. “Weeklong test drives aren’t kosher, Mr. Date.”

“And I’m not Jewish.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Serious as my dad’s grave.” Masamume brushed a lock of stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Want me along for the ride?”

Once upon a time, years ago, the whole gang got into an altercation with an older man in a Ford pickup. They were only teenagers sitting on a dock, but the guy pulled up and screamed at them for ‘loitering’. Mitsunari tried to intervene, and when the man acted like he might hit him, Ieyasu almost threw hands himself. They’d retreated into the woods—and when the man left, Masamune, Mitsuhide, and she went back and lit the dock on fire to spite him. Right beforehand, she’d fixed him with the most mischievous expression he’d ever seen: mouth sucked into her teeth, eyes glittering, staring out from under her lashes. 

Now, she made that same expression, and it lit a fire in him. 

“We’d have to leave like…” She mentally calculated. “In three days to make it.”

“Or we could take the long road, do a little sightseeing, and leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She echoed. Only a half second later, that smile was back. “I’m game.”

---

At six a.m. sharp, Masamune tried to wake her by flinging rocks at her window. That didn't work. At last he resorted to calling her, discovering that she stayed in a completely different room now. 

“Could���a used that knowledge,” he chuckled, hopping in place to warm his legs. The fog pressed in around him, September chill early this year. “Don’t suppose anyone is using that room?”

Her voice was thin, but warm over the phone. “No, it’s a home gym now.” 

“Great! I didn't hassle anyone else. Get out here, Kitten, we got a road to get on.”

She emerged twenty minutes later, sweatpants fresh from the dryer, wet hair in a sloppy bun and a suitcase click-clacking behind her. She never was a morning person. Masamune snickered and popped the Camaro trunk. “Wanna drive, or wanna let me do it?”

“You start. Can we get some Starbucks?”

“Ugh.” He clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “All of the coffee places in the world, and you want Starbucks. My palate is crying.”

Rolling her eyes, she slid into the passenger seat. “Drama queen.”

They got Starbucks. She tucked her feet into fuzzy socks and folded them under her knees, clutching the large mocha. Only the rush of the road beneath their tires filled the silence. Asphalt and trees emerged from the mist like a benevolent ghost, Americana obscured. They’d only just merged onto the highway when Masamune realized there wasn’t an audio jack in the car.

“Shit,” he muttered. 

She opened her eyes, head lolling on the headrest. “What?”

He flicked the dashboard. Nope, no audio jack. Not even a CD player. No; amidst all the toggles and buttons of the dash was a cassette player. “I don’t have anything to listen to. This thing won’t hook up to the phones, and I don’t have any tapes.”

“Hm.” Taking a long sip of her drink, she mused, “Maybe your dad has some in here?”

“I guess that’d make sense. Take a look around, would you?”

Sure enough, she was right. Tucked away in the glove compartment was a treasure trove: Fleetwood Mac, Eagles, AC/DC, Prince, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen. “Damn,” she chuckled, “Your dad had good taste.”

Masamune took the copy of Rumors in his fingers, never taking his eyes off the road. The dust was thick under his thumb. “He’d play ‘Back in Black’ when he picked me up from school. It was cool as hell.” With a snap, he pried open the copy of Rumors and popped it into the player. The speakers hummed to life with strumming guitar, Fleetwood Mac echoing. “I know there’s nothing to say, someone has taken my place…” She rested her elbow on the center console, brushing his arm with her as she texted. 

“Guess what?” She murmured. “Mitsunari just got back from Tanzania.”

“Oh shit, really?” How long had it been? Masamune mentally calculated the dates. “I guess it has been two years, huh? The Peace Corps finally turned him loose?”

“Yeah. He’s apparently crashing at Ieyasu’s place—” Masamune barked a laugh, and she tittered, but continued, “—and wants to know if we’re going to head that direction.”

“He’s in Maryland, right?” Fishing out his phone, he checked it. “Yasu didn't tell me about this. Bastard. Well, we get there fast enough, then we can definitely hunker down there for a day or so and celebrate his coming back.”

Classic rock kept them company on the long drive. He didn't mind roadtrips. There was something sacred about them. Forget the American Dream; it was dead. Long live the American Road Trip, a rite of passage for the lost souls from sea to shining sea. Nothing cleared the senses like cranking up the heater on the floorboards and rolling down the window to a blast of autumn air. She let down her hair and it whipped wild in the wind. 

Thank God she was here. Masamune quietly relished her reappearance in his life. She was a gateway to an old world, one with his father alive, one where he still snuck out of the house at night and biked to the 7-Eleven for slurpees at 3a.m. They stopped at a Cracker Barrel for dinner and ordered root beer floats and roasted each other over the annoying ‘jump-the-pegs’ game perched on every table. Though you were supposed to reduce it to one peg, she couldn’t quite manage it. Somehow she kept getting two or three. 

“I got it down to one peg once,” she laughed, shoving it toward him. Masamune swirled it under his hand. 

“I can do it,” he commented. “But that’s because Mitsunari taught me the trick years ago.” He knocked the first peg out of the top of the triangle, moving it elsewhere. “That’s the one that’s gotta be empty. From there on out, there’s a set solution.”

She craned over it, investigating. “What’s the set solution?”

A long, hefty pause lingered between them as he slurped some of his float. 

“Dunno anymore.” He cracked a grin. “I forgot like, eight years ago.”

“Ass! Then you don’t know!” She swatted at his arm and grinned. “Liar!”

“Hey! I was just trying to look cool in front’a you, Kitten, I can’t look like some big dumb stud after all these years—”

“I love how you allow for the possibility that you’re dumb,” she cackled, “but not the possibility that you’re anything other than hot.”

“Am I wrong? Look at me.”

The roll of her eyes was exactly what he wanted. She shoved a biscuit at him over the table. “I think Mark Twain said something like, ‘it’s better to stop talking and appear dumb than open your mouth and remove any doubt’, Masamune.”

He clutched at his chest, but took the biscuit anyway. “You wound me, Kitten.”

As they were paying the bill, she split off and reappeared a minute later, plunking thirty cents onto the cash register and tucking a cinnamon stick into his jacket pocket. “Here.”

“My favorite!” He peeled back the plastic wrapper. “Thanks, Kitkat. You remembered.”

For the first time since they’d seen each other again, her expression evolved to one he’d almost forgotten. He’d only seen it once before. It was a moonlit night back in their senior year, after prom, when they were both lingering in the pool as everyone else passed out drunk. He’d wiped a leaf from her hair and told her she was beautiful, and she’d looked at him like that so long and hard that he wondered if he’d ever known her inner thoughts at all. 

“Of course I remembered,” she answered at last, soft and clarion clear. “I remember all kinds of things about you, Masamune.”

[fourangers]

nasugrl

"como se só conversar fosse resolver tudo" OLHE SÓ MOLIER, NAO FACA ISSO COMIGO. Aiai, a gente fica "é só conversar" mas esquece o quanto isso é difícil! Até mesmo na vida real hahaha. É aquele conselho que a gente dá para todo mundo mas na hora de seguir a gente amarela. Até pq a incerteza às vezes provém uma certeza maior do que saber realmente... Bem, pelo tempo em que isso consegue se manter neh?! Até pq por hora é mais confortável não tocar nesse assunto e deixar...

As coisas seguirem seu rumo, uma vez que ele conversando com o Sasuke, tem a chance de tudo ir por água a baixo. E bem, por agora eles ainda tem um tempinho, então ele estaria arriscando mais se resolvesse conversar... ARGH isso é a decisão com mais sentido mas ME IRRITA PQ EU SEI Q ELES FORAM FEITOS UM PRO OUTRO

POR ISSO Q RESOLVI ESCREVER ESSE FIC, PRA MOSTRAR QUE ELES FORAM FEITOS UM PARA O OUTRO E VCS SOFREREM COM ISSO.

E tbm para destruir alguns clichês por aew. (vou te jurar, esse fic era pra ser BEM mais simples só q no caminho eu me deparei com umas coisas e pensei “perae não deveria ser assim” e fui mudando. Daí fazer o q, vcs vão sofrendo comigo)

nasugrl

MOLIER NEM ME VENHA. RENEWING CHANGES É LINDO. Q ERRO Q OQ. TEU CU. Really, para eu ter lido tudo, te stalkear aqui no Tumblr e ter lido toda suas outras fics (sim molier, tô esperando até Cat's eye sair do limbo), quer dizer que deixou um impacto fortíssimo quando li. Nem me venha com essa. Bem, acho que se for comparar, muitos aspectos devem ter melhorado, não que eu realmente tenha percebido algo extremo, mas a gente tende a melhorar com o tempo (ainda bem neh?)

KKKK, é q no ponto de vista do criador, acho q raramente vc vai ficar satisfeito com sua criação. Ou pelo menos não vai ficar SEMPRE satisfeito com a sua criação. Fazer o q...kkkkk

MEU DEUS. Cat’s Eye, ô fic antiga. Sabia q ainda tenho o plot dela na minha cabeça? Na verdade sei + ou - a história de todos os meus fics q ficaram parados no limbo, é q estou sofrendo a mesma coisa com o Renewing Changes....volto depois de algum tempo e fico “ai, isso tá uma bosta viu” e abandono ele.

Mas o interessante é isso; tipo quando artistas criam um Instagram e tu acompanha a evolução dos desnehos dele, sabe?! Dá mais vida e sensação de proximidade e tals. Se orgulhe do q vc escreveu, era o melhor de si, assim como esse é seu melhor hoje (um ótimo melhor ❤️❤️) e a medida de q os anos vão passando isso vai continuando! Imagine se autores famosos começassem a excluir as obras deles pois acham q poderiam fazer melhor hj em dia??

Quantas histórias incríveis não seriam excluídas e esqeucidas! Eu teria um treco se não pudesse ler Harry Potter por exmplo (apesar de não ser taaaao antigo é meu bebê ❤️), então nem vem dizer q tava ruim. Pq não tava U.U

É Q ESTOU RELENDO PRA TENTAR ENTRAR DE NOVO NO UNIVERSO E A CADA FRASE EU FICO “Nossa, tem um erro crasso de inglês” OU “Afff, tá muito aportuguesado essa parte!” DÓI NA MINHA ALMAAAAA

Mas tá...pela sua paciência e animação vou te deixar esse teaser pra vc:

"You were in this plan of trapping me in that cabinet while we were escaping from that snow storm. I bet that bastard convinced you to help him!"

Tsunade shrugged. "So what?"

Naruto dropped his jaw. "I thought you were on my side!"

"I am. Which is the reason I agreed with this. No need to thank me, you little brat."

"What the fuck?! Do I look anywhere grateful for what you've done to me?! You crazy old crone!" Naruto snarled.

"You're not?" Tsunade turned to peruse Sasuke, though the young man only returned with a careless shrug and a snort. Noticing that they no longer looked apprehensive with each other unlike before, Tsunade continued with her teasing. "What? Are you sore that…wait, are you literally sore Naru-chan?"

Naruto's face burst into flames and he sputtered. "No! Stop being such a goddamn pervert you old hag!"

Tsunade let out a melodramatic sigh. "Then I guess it is sort of my fault that I allowed Uchiha-kun to brand your bum. Shame, really…"

"I said that I—! You know what. I'm so not listening to this." Naruto harrumphed, walking to the receptionist desk and dropping all the ski equipment there. "But well, it's your own damn loss now." 

PS: Nossa, o Naruto e Sasuke gostam de brigar no Renewing Changes hein...mto diferente do Naruto e Sasuke no Rite of Passage q é só amor e fofura até...*RISO MALÉFICO*

[anothermisguidedmillennial]

I’m Emotional, Damn It. Why Is That Such a Bad Thing?

During my sophomore year of college, I got to be part of a cast of amazing young women in The Vagina Monologues, which I’m beginning to think is a rite of passage for any budding young feminist. While this was not my monologue in the show, it resonated so deeply with me, and the women who did perform it did such a beautiful job capturing its essence. I want to start this post off with an excerpt from that show.

“I am an emotional creature. I love that I do not take things lightly. Everything is intense to me. The way I walk in the street. The way my mother wakes me up. The way I hear bad news. The way it’s unbearable when I lose.”

-      Eve Ensler

I recently started reading a book by Brene Brown about shame, and how both feeling ashamed and the way others speak to us about our shame can drastically shape our experiences in life. As a woman, I believe the world around me has taught me to feel ashamed of being an emotional creature.

I think back to when I was a child, and something would upset me, and either my peers or my teachers would try to get me to stop my reaction to it. I even think back to the last year of my life, and feeling ashamed to be upset in front of my coworkers or friends. I remember apologizing for crying when I was  overwhelmed, and even more viscerally, I remember forcing those feelings down into the pit of my stomach where I was sure they would no longer make themselves known.

Here’s the thing: nothing goes away forever. Those emotions will rear their ugly heads with a ferocity ten times worse than before.

The more global reality, especially in the United States, is that women are constantly written off as being too emotional to handle hard work or tough situations. Why aren’t we all more honest with each other about what makes us uncomfortable? If we were, perhaps we wouldn’t live in a world where symptoms of anxiety disorders present themselves in over 40 percent of college students, with depression following with a shocking 35% of students impacted. Could it be that the stigma around mental illness ultimately comes from our inability to talk to each other about basic human emotion?

The bigger picture for millennials is also that we have been labeled the most selfish generation in history. Time Magazine called us the “Me, Me, Me” generation. Ironically, this blog is a play-off of that stereotype. Our generation will likely be characterized by our love of selfies and rabid obsession with social media, but I find myself constantly racking my brain as to why that’s a bad thing. If getting some solid likes on your latest Instagram selfie or perhaps writing a blog on Tumblr about your life makes you feel better about yourself, or allows you to express yourself freely, then post away. Who cares?

I’ve caught myself feeling ashamed of my feelings while writing this blog. I think I’ve re-read my last two posts about fifty times each, thinking about what people might take away from it or what they’ll think of my thoughts. I’ve wondered how my parents would react (hi, mom. Thanks for following me) or even what the folks from high school who I haven’t talked to in four years (but still followed this, which is some serious loyalty) would deduce from my musings. I even asked one of my closest friends, “What about the description of my blog? Will people judge me for using words like queer and feminist?”

She said the right thing: this is not for them, it is for you. Be true to your identity.

Take this post as an invitation to be true to how you feel, and as a reminder that no matter what you’re feeling, it is valid because it is part of your identity. Be ready to validate those who trust us enough to show how they’re really feeling, and allow yourself to open your emotion to the rest of the world. You might not agree with another person’s reaction, but having enough empathy to at least say, “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, and I’m really glad you trust me enough to tell me about it,” can go an incredibly long way.

I’ll close this post with another excerpt from Eve Ensler:

“I am an emotional creature. I am connected to everything and everyone. I was born like that. Don’t you dare say it’s all negative;

That it’s a teenage thing or it’s only because I’m a girl. These feelings make me better. They make me ready. They make me present. They make me strong.”

[golshxd-blog]

Until recently the mobile phone market appeared to have no limit.  Worldwide sales continued to grow, and manufacturers fed consumers with a never ending array of “innovation” to tempt them to upgrade.  Strangely, as real innovation seemed to falter and everyone’s phone already had a big enough screen and enough storage and a battery that didn’t explode, Apple decided to push the price envelope with the £/€/$1000+ iPhone X.  Seeing the opportunity, other manufacturers followed with flagship phones at higher and higher price points, and then an unsurprising thing happened.  Consumers reacted by keeping their phones longer, buying new ones less frequently, and global sales plateaued, or even declined.

  Rites of passage. Honor 10 Lite, “AI” mode

  Manufacturers obviously still needed to try to drive sales, but clearly the number of processor cores or the battery life weren’t enough to tempt consumers any more.  However, everyone knew that consumers love social media and taking photos – mostly of themselves – and so the mobile phone camera has remained at the vanguard of “innovation” and the assault on consumers wallets. 

  Having successfully killed off the consumer market for inexpensive pocket cameras, phones are going up market and want to take on “proper” cameras.  One camera is no longer enough, when 2, 3, or even 4 can be fitted to the back of a phone and offer different focal lengths, 40 megapixels, enhanced low light photography, and funky portrait modes to make your small sensor photos look like they were taken with a big sensor camera and a fast aperture lens. 

  Twin Geese. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode

  Phone makers are no longer content with being the camera of choice for some selfies infront of , or applying some chinzy filters to a shot of a iced grandissimo mocha-choca-coco-latte to put on your SnapFace story. AR dog ears are soooo last year.  Now, they want to be serious photographic tools that can be used for every situation – low light, travel zoom, high resolution, do-it-all monsters.

  Shard at dusk. Honor 10 Lite, “pro” mode

  Of course, the irony of all this is that for the price of the latest premium “must have” phone, consumers could buy a very nice camera and possibly a couple of lenses.  Except that in general, consumers have stopped buying cameras and lenses, because they have been seduced by the ubiquity of simple cameras attached to the front and back of their phones, and the ease with which their always on connections to the internet allowed them to share every moment of their lives in all it’s filtered self-glory.

  And so we reach a paradigm.  Consumers have ditched complex cameras with lots of lenses and options in preference for a simple one click solution attached to their phone, yet now the same phone wants to be more complex in an attempt to widen their shooting envelope.

  This way. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode

  At the same time, there is some evidence that the social media platforms have plateaued, or may be in decline.  Certainly, user numbers aren’t growing like they used to, and measures of user engagement seem to indicate waning interest.  Facebook has been exposed as misusing customer data and being a platform for misinformation.  Instagram “influencers” have been revealed as being paid for their opinions, and must increasingly declare their commercial relationships.  Does anyone even remember those SnapChat glasses with a camera built in?

  So where does it leave phone makers?  In trying to be everything to everyone, have they thrown away the simplicity that made consumers like using camera phones in the first place?  In trying to be more complex, with more lenses and more shooting modes, will they become less appealing to consumers, who may no longer be willing to pay for a premium model who’s complex features they don’t want?

  So where does this leave consumers? 

  Probably wanting something further down the food chain, if they even want anything at all right now.

  Little Brother. Honor 10 Lite, “AI” mode

  Recently, I needed to buy a new phone at short notice.  As I prefer “dual SIM” models for their travel benefits, and since I also didn’t want to spend the equivalent of the national debt of a small South American country, after a read of some online reviews I quickly gravitated to an Honor 10 Lite.  Honor is a brand owned by Chinese giant Huawei, and many of their Huawei and Honor branded handsets appear to share near identical specification, although the Honor brand offers more dual sim models and are often slightly cheaper.

  Anyone who read my recent article “is your camera like your car” will know how much I feel that products are marketed by segmentation and spec sheet comparisons, often damned with feint praise or unfavourable comparisons within or across perceived product “class”.  At £169, my new phone would probably be regarded as an entry level mid range phone, yet it manages to use the same 8 core processor from last year’s Huawei flagship, and with attractive specification for its screen, cameras and battery.  Huawei claim it uses an “AI” processor, but since silicon cannot change its behaviour, I interpret this to mean the firmware adjusts the processor clock speed or use of cores to maximise performance or battery life as needed.  Generally, it runs smoothly and feels snappy, and the battery lasts well even with heavy use.  Given the hardware requirements of the relatively resource hungry Android, I regard this as a significant achievement at the price.

  A storm overhead. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode

  Not so many years ago, even an expensive phone had something like an 8mp rear camera and a 1.3Mp front facing camera for video calling.  Now, my inexpensive phone has a modest 13Mp rear camera behind a 26mm f1.8 lens, and an astonishing 24Mp front facing (selfie) camera with a fixed focus 26mm f2 lens.  Both cameras vary the output file size by shooting mode and lighting conditions, down-sampling the photos to reduce noise. 

  The front facing camera automatically starts in “Portrait” mode for obvious reasons, and has “beauty mode” turned on by default.  This can be adjusted or turned off, and performs some airbrushing on faces, smoothing skin tone and removing spots and lines. Up close the results look a little lacking in detail and skin texture, but at full screen size they look surprisingly good, and far better than the worst excesses of the breed.  I wouldn’t hesitate to use it if I wanted to avoid manually retouching files later or wanted to flatter.  The camera can perform face detection, release the shutter when smiles are detected, or count down with a hand gesture, but will shoot at up to ISO2500  File quality is fair – there seems to be quite a lot of processing being applied to reduce noise and sharpen the images that doesn’t look particularly good at 100%, but is actually quite pleasing when seen full screen.  This was undoubtedly a deliberate choice by the developers, and I regard it as a intelligent one.  Consumers don’t look at their selfies at 100% – they want them to look good on the phone screen.

  Obligatory selfie. Honor 10 Lite, “Portrait” mode, ISO2500, adjusted in PaintShopPro

  The rear facing camera is probably of more interest to those whose photography doesn’t centre entirely on themselves.  The Huawei camera app has a wide variety of shooting modes, including panoramas, time lapse, light painting, HDR and a “pro” mode.  The latter offers full manual control over metering mode, ISO, shutter speed, exposure compensation, autofocus mode and white balance.  The rear camera has 2 modules – the 13Mp picture taking camera, and a secondary 2Mp sensor behind an f2.4 lens that is used in “portrait” and “aperture” shooting modes.  Both of these create a shallow depth of field effect, where apparently the second 2Mp camera is used to capture “depth information”.  Since the camera offers near infinite depth of field at normal subject distances, the point of focus can be placed almost anywhere in the frame post capture, and then a simulated shallow depth of field is applied.  The depth of field can also be varied by adjusting an aperture value between f0.95 and f16.  The result is akin to the Lytro field camera.

  Japanese Manhattan. Honor 10 Lite “aperture” mode

  It would be easy to dismiss this aperture mode as a cheap gimmick that could never achieve the same results as from a “proper” camera, but there interesting things about what it does.  The depth information that it claims to capture from the low resolution second camera does appear to allow some approximation of subject distances for different things in the frame, and as a result different amounts of blur are applied, sometimes with a true sense of depth.  In the photograph below you can see that the railing on which the pigeon stands is blurred as it moves away from the camera, and the birds on the ground behind the railing have varying amounts of fall off from focus.

  Pigeon 1. Honor 10 Lite “aperture” mode

  Of course it’s not perfect, and it can break down when the software has difficulty distinguishing edges of overlapping objects, of with complex objects at different distances – for example, background seen through bars of a nearer fence, as can be seen in the example below.

  Pigeon 2. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode. Note that some grass seen between the vertical bars of the fence has not been blurred. However, I find the rendering of distant water and trees very attractive, particularly in black and white.

  The other interesting shooting mode is “night”.  This is Huawei’s alternative to Google’s own “night vision” camera mode, and shoots a series of different exposures over a 4 second period that are then instantly aligned and combined into 1 photograph.  The result won’t appeal to purists, as it creates a very heavily sharpened kind of “ultra HDR” effect, but the photographs are quite clean and vivid, and suit some subjects.

  Cloudy city lights. Honor 10 Lite, “Night” mode

  Now to bring us back to our earlier discourse on camera phones, and whether very expensive models that try to do everything are what consumers want.  Firstly, let’s admit that for some consumers, having the latest premium handset is important in itself for vanity and the “cool factor”.  A £169 phone certainly isn’t cool.  When I met a friend for drinks shortly after I’d bought it, he immediately turned on the camera and took a selfie and said the photo was very bright and clear, and then in the discussion that followed he commented that it didn’t really matter whether a phone was expensive or cheap, because most people just wanted social media and a decent enough camera.  I strongly believe that the law of diminishing returns sets in quite low down phone ranges, and clearly a £1000 phone isn’t 6 times better than one that costs £169.  It may not even be twice as good.  Then we come back to the premium phone camera as a do-it-all master of all situations – ultimate travel zoom, ultimate low light, ultimate resolution – and whether it’s what consumers want, or whether it’s enough to tempt them into a £1000 purchase rather than a £200 one.

  To answer that, we should reflect on what it is that can be good about the camera phone.

  Blue Sky Thinking. Honor 10 Lite, “AI” mode

  Firstly, to quote that tired old cliche of photography, “the best camera is the one you have with you”, and the benefit of the camera phone is just that – you always have it with you.  So when you come across something interesting or unexpected, you are ready. 

  Photographers from the past become so steeped in mythos that we lose sight of what we have in our pockets.  HCB used Leitz cameras because at the time they used a smaller format that allowed the cameras to be smaller, more portable and more discrete.  Could anyone seriously argue that he would choose to use a Leica now, when the most portable and discrete camera now fits in your pocket and is effectively invisible in social situations?  Modern phones probably have far more ability than the cameras that HCB used to photograph the streets of Paris.  If you put my phone in manual focus mode and set the focus distance to about a meter, you get near infinite depth of field and a fast shutter response, so that’s the other photographic cliche of “the decisive moment” taken care of. 

  Unexpected Park Life. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode

  There is another advantage of camera phones that I wasn’t initially aware of.  Having always used 135 format cameras that took photographs in 3×2 ratio, I’d always been slightly uncomfortable with moderate wide angle lenses, as I never seemed to be able to get comfortable compositions.  I’d never understood why many street photographers and the cameras and lenses they liked were often around 28mm focal length, as I always found it an awkward field of view.  Last year, to say goodbye to a phone I was replacing, I undertook a project to use it on holiday, as described in my article “are I going crazy? (using an inexpensive camera phone)”.  The phone has a 28mm f2 lens, and I found that I really enjoyed using it.  It wasn’t until I was in discussion with Pascal about it that he commented that 28mm of the 4×3 format that most phones use is somehow easier to compose for, and somehow more “relaxing” for a wider field of view. 

  Most phones come with a lens with an equivalent full frame focal length around 24-35mm, and most use a native 4×3 format sensor.  I don’t know what sensors made for phones are in 4×3 ratio, but I think it’s attractive for wider focal lengths.  Again, when we put all the mythos of HCB and 135 format to one side, what we are left with is a format whose size and ratio has it’s origins in movie film, which happened to be small and convenient for smaller and more portable stills cameras.  Would 3×2 format be so dominant now had it now been for the accident of history and the rise of 135 format?  4×3 ratio makes for much more comfortable compositions and framing when used with wider lenses, and suits group portraits and other subjects much more than the 3×2 that resulted from the historical tyranny of Leitz.

  Seeing the light. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode

  The final thing that could be good about camera phones is that they can have a “look”.  What instantly struck me about the aperture mode simulated shallow depth of field effects from my new phone was their visual quality.  Backgrounds aren’t just blurred, there is some sense of a three dimensional scene, and out of focus specular highlights are rendered as discs with a very slightly hardened edge, just like real lenses with less then perfect bokeh.  Depending on the scene, such as the example below, there can even be some nervousness not far behind the simulated plane of focus, with the “wirey” look that some lenses can give to things like foliage. 

  Without a means of support. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode. Note how the twig suspending the leafs has been incorrectly blurred to create “magic” hanging leafs.

The developers could have aimed for a “perfect” blur, like that produced by lenses such as the Minolta 135mm STF with it’s apodisation filter, but instead they seemed to opt for something with a little character.   The results can sometimes look quite “painterly”, and I find them genuinely attractive and appealing.  The aperture mode pictures also look good when the default Huawei black and white filter is applied, which I think gives a very classic feel to the results.  Pascal suggests that character is better than technical perfection, and I’m inclined to agree.  It’s why camera phone apps have so many filters that ultimately try to make bland modern photographs look interesting.

  In the weeks after I got the phone I sent a few samples to Pascal and we discussed phones and their merits. When I sent him the sample below, hastily snapped in the garden a few days after I’d bought the phone and curious to see how well it close focused, his reply was “The look on that file would make an Otus owner swoon. It is so delicate”. For full disclosure I told him that the original had been underexposed because of the bright sky, so I’d had to adjust it in an app on my phone, recover some detail in the blown highlights of the sky, and applied a filter, all from a jpeg. I regard his comments as high praise for a photo from an inexpensive phone crudely adjusted using simple apps on a 5″ screen

  Delicate flower. Honor 10 Lite, “aperture” mode

  That a cheap phone and free software that requires a few swipes of the finger produces something that might be compared to the delicacy of an Zeiss Otus lens just shows there is simply no point in sticking your head in the sand, going into denial and trying to stop your world from changing.

  I’m torn between the idea of the camera as a “do it all” photographic tool, and Pascal’s “keep it simple” philosophy. Some phones take great 4K video, but their 28mm lenses are useless to capture action at a stage event. Wide angle lenses sometimes make for difficult compositions, and wouldn’t be my first choice for a portrait. Recently, with the ever increasing capability of cameras that broaden the shooting envelope, I’ve always asked “what can I use this for?”, whilst many enthusiast photographers who may be resistant to change adopt a Luddite attitude of “why would I want that?”

  Park Life. Honor 10 Lite, “AI” mode

  When I think about the pocket cameras that I’ve most enjoyed using, they weren’t the ones with crazy zoom lenses or that had the manual control of an SLR, they were “point and shoot” fixed focal length cameras. There is a freedom and greater sense of enjoyment when using a simple camera with a decent lens, as it means that the photographer’s attention is on the composition and the pictures, not worrying about settings. That’s exactly what our camera phones give us: a point and shoot camera, usually with a decent quality fixed focal length lens, that allows us to think more about pictorial quality and less about settings.

  Photos in this article were all taken with an Honor 10 Lite phone and post processed to taste on the phone using Huawei Gallery, Adobe Photoshop Express and Snapseed, and are included here at full resolution should you want to inspect them more closely.

  Pascal adds

Phones get a bar rap because so many people are using them that the average Joe is not interested in quality photography. Just like the average Joe 40 years ago, except he didn’t take photographs at all. But phones are great photographic tools.

    As Adrian writes, it’s the camera that’s always with us. But to me, it’s the instinctive use and the look that make it most precious.

You try things with phones that you wouldn’t get your expensive kit out for and those often turn out to be good pictures. There’s something fresh, almost naive about phone photographs compared to so many “real camera” pics that can feel so belaboured. They sometimes smell of sweat where the phone’s offerings carry the scent of mountain dew

And the seemingly infinite depth of field is so useful in many circumstances.

    That being said, I wonder whether manufacturers aren’t trying too hard for their own good. Probably not, as punters buying phones for personal photographic creativity are probably vastly outnumbered by those who enjoy the pixel count of the selfie cam (I thought Adrian had made a mistake when he explained selfie cams are higher quality than the back facing cam !!!!! What a weird old world).

  In my book, that’s really cool!

  Still, the fun aspect could be lost if these beasties ever become complex to use and too expensive. My old Galaxy S6 had a nicer look (but was lousy at night) than my current S9. It was also a heck of a lot cheaper and more solid. I do think Adrian is on to something with cheap phones. Find 3 with different looks and you’ll have spent less than on a soulless lens and less than half what big Apple is charging for top of the line ego boosts.

Go cheap phone, go!

  Posted on DearSusan by Adrian.

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Covid-blood stealing monkeys, murder hornets, race riots, and now, rogue posts to Teen Insta. Stop the world, I wanna get off. With both their cities on fire, Melissa and Amy look for bright spots that don't simultaneously scorch their keisters. We explore the joys of freshly prepared sushi, religious rites of passage, graduation under quarantine and connecting with friends at life's toughest touch-and-go moments. 

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[mrmedia]

1298 Billy Idol, rock star, "White Wedding," "Rebel Yell"

Today's Guest: Billy Idol, rock star, "White Wedding," "Rebel Yell"

(I was first introduced to the music of Billy Idol by my then-roommate, photographer Dennis Osborne, in the early 1980s. Dennis would bounce around the house to "Dancin' with Myself" and it was hard to resist the song's infectious beat and lyrics. I recently located the audio to my 1984 Music magazine interview with Billy and present it here in all its amateur glory. -- Bob Andelman)

Billy Idol on the cover of Music magazine (Photograph by Dennis Osborne, (c) 1984 All Rights Reserved.)

With his startling blonde spiked hair and bona-fide punk stance, Billy Idol would be about as acceptable in the Deep South today as the long-haired hero of Charlie Daniels "Uneasy Rider" was a decade ago. But when Idol titled his 
latest album Rebel Yell, he
caused a lot of second looks.
What does a British
renegade noisemaker know
about confederate flags,
'shine or the Mason/Dixon Line?
Not much. The 28-year-old native of Bromley, England was considering a holler of a different kind. Coming off his first big hit, “White Wedding,” Idol was harassed by complaints that he was an anti-woman sexist pig. Rebel Yell started as a response to that stinging allegation and wound up with a lyric touching many themes, including the Statue of Liberty. "I wrote the song to address the people who thought I was anti-women. (But) instead, I wrote it about how strong one-to-one relationships should be angled more towards women. After a while I started to think 'she doesn't like slavery, she won't sit and beg' is sort of about America, because when I was tired and lonely, she pulled me in,” Idol explained in a recent telephone interview.

BILLY IDOL interview excerpt: "The first punk bands, Generation X, The Damned, The Sex Pistols, had really positive attitudes... We went out of our way to play. People never talk about that. They always talk about the violence of the gigs."

"I was really down after Generation X ended," he continued, referring to the early punk band he sang for. "I came over here and people 
were jumping around the 
bars like myself. I didn't
 know (about that), because we'd never been over here. It
 was fantastic. When people
 were into my music, it was
 what I needed to hear. I needed a bit of back-up.” For Idol, finding a successful career in a strange
country has been an unexpected pleasure. Generation
X, whiIe widely acknowledged as one of the more significant of the second generation English punk bands to spring to renown in the late ‘70s, never cracked the American marketplace. Generation X produced three albums during its four-year existence. Idol was lead singer in a group that also included Gene October and Tony James. "We really wanted it to work, be a group forever, but it didn't end up like that. It was a bit of a blow," Idol admitted. "I wrote all the music in
 Generation X and Tony 
James wrote all the words. I
 write a lot more of the words 
now. I'm singing my own
 words a lot more comfortably... I think I put a lot more 
rhythm into my music which
 we didn't always have in
 Generation X. It was a wham! 
bam! but it wasn't always rhythmy."

Billy Idol Greatest Hits. Order your copy today by clicking on the album cover above!

Three years ago, Idol hooked up with collaborator and friend Steve Stevens, a 25·year·old New York native. "I didn't meet him with the intention of wow, maybe I'll get in his band," Stevens recalled. "I just thought he'd be an interesting character...and he turned out to be one. We hung out for a long time, played guitars together. When he went to record the Don't Stop EP, I stayed around and bummed cigarettes." Don't Stop, which included Idol's new version of Generation X's only hit "Dancin' - With Myself," was followed by a self-titled solo album, the first musical work Idol and Stevens did together. This was the record to feature “White Wedding,” the song and video which established Idol’s reputation as more than a curious punk. He demonstrated a strong voice and flair for melodic hooks. On the strength of that album, Don’t Stop was reissued. Then came Rebel Yell and Idol has regularly found himself with a rare three-disc hat trick on the charts. Rebel Yell is also the debut of the Idol/Stevens creative team on all but one song (Idol wrote “Catch My Fall”). "When it came time to do the first album, Billy had a stockpile of songs that he wanted to do, so I wasn't involved," Stevens said. Now, Idol writes the lyrics and Stevens the music, like the intro to "Rebel Yell". I'll write a title now and again, come up with a catch phrase. But Billy’s definitely in control of his own lyrics; he’s waited a long time. I think he’s a brilliant lyricist. Stevens contributed a number of different musical parts to the Rebel Yell LP. Although he sticks to playing guitar on tour, he also did tracks for bass, keyboard and Casio. "A Casio is a real, real low budget keyboard but they sound great, really trashy. The Casio has little drum sounds in them. There's a real tacky organ sound on 'Blue Highway' - really tacky - that's a Casio," Stevens said. Once a member of the Fine Malibus, Stevens went with with that band to record an unreleased album. Where there, he spent a lot of time hanging out with Robert Palmer, from whom contributing Idol keyboardist Jack Walman came. During the pre-Idol days, Stevens also wrote a song for Peter Criss, late of Kiss, which appeared on Criss’s second European album.

BILLY IDOL interview excerpt: "I wrote ('White Wedding') to address the people who thought I was anti-women. (But) instead, I wrote it about how strong one-to-one relationships should be angled more towards women. After a while I started to think 'she doesn't like slavery, she won't sit and beg' is sort of about America, because when I was tired and lonely, she pulled me in."

Although the (Fine Malibus) weren’t an important part of my musical upbringing,” Stevens said, “that time of my life was great. It was great. It was the first time I ever lived out on my own, exposed to New York music's dirtier side, really slumming it. We had to save up to buy chicken pot pies. It was rough, but I think those kinds of things are important to go through.” Idol went through his own rites of passage in the punk upheaval of 1977-80. As the rare musician who still openly and defiantly declares himself to be a punker, he said there are misguided ideas in this country about what that means. There’s all these ideas that punks are anti-music—always got a negative attitude . I don't think that's correct. The first punk bands—Generation X, The Damned,
Sex Pistols—had really positive attitudes and were very forthcoming with people. We went out of our way to play. People never talk about that. They always talk about the violence at the gigs. We played for no money and dragged our own gear. That isn’t because you want loads of people to love you—it’s because you’re seriously interested in playing. "To a certain extent, a lot of the press in England magnified a lot of things which came over to America. A lot of people who came after us took it seriously and went into this anti-music thing, whereas we were really into songs and soul music. We were just heavy about it (but) as interested in The Who and Tamla-Motown as Iggy Pop,” Idol concluded. "A lot of punk rockers think Elvis wasn’t punk rock and I think that’s anti- the whole idea,” he added. “Of course it was ‘Hate Elvis’ in ’77. Why not? But big deal now. He was kind of a laugh—that graveyard, I couldn’t believe it.” Idol is a big Presley fan. He uses one of the King's former bodyguards, Ed Parker, and refers to Elvis as
 "great, he had all that energy, so exciting, great songs. He really had a kind of soul.” The only time during this conversation that Idol paused before answering was when asked if he would ever consider covering a Presley hit. "It's a nice idea. But ...he sang too great. I never thought of it. He made the definitive versions ... Maybe, if I found one song I really felt I could do something with. That’s the problem: you’ve got to transcend what they did.” With financial success and broader public acceptance approaching, Idol doubted his outlook on punkhood will be altered. "I've got certain beliefs," he said. "I've been up and down, and I still believe this way. It's what you do with your attitude. Otherwise, you'll be an ass with your money. You have to find a way of using that stuff and making it better for other people.” Idol designs most of his own costumes and wears leather clothes because they are warm, comfortable and don't show as much dirt. "England and New York are very cold in the winter and when we started Genera­ tion X, without any money, the best thing to do was save up some money and get a great pair of leather trousers. You can almost live in them—lasts for years," he claimed. And while Idol also said, with reference to his stage outfits, "I don't think these things out much,” it has been a valuable experience to be rejected by some people at first on the basis of his appearance and later gain acceptance for his music. "Both me and these other people have come to terms with each other as to what we are. I think that's good. It means a lot of prejudice has been put aside. I want to show people that I wasn't a coldhearted person. I'm into sex, movement, into feeling things out. I want to groove, y'know?" And, as Idol also pointed out, "I've got to be me. I think this way of looking is as fun­ny as it is heavy."

Billy Idol Website • Facebook • Twitter • Instagram • YouTube • Wikipedia • IMDB • MySpace • Google+ • Goodreads

Steve Stevens Facebook • Instagram • MySpace • Wikipedia • TuneIn • IMDB

  Kicking Through the Ashes: My Life As A Stand-up in the 1980s Comedy Boom by Ritch Shydner. Order your copy today by clicking on the book cover above!

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