#department of hidden sequences

[packsvlog]

☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

[ljblueteak]

Richard Hamilton Swingeing London 67 poster and Beatles 68 poster

Text from Andrew Wilson's Swingeing London 67

The [Beatles] poster, described by Hamilton as a 'give-away' print, was the result of a fairly complex design process that took about two weeks to complete, with daily visits from Paul McCartney, the one Beatle who worked directly with Hamilton on the project and who had prior knowledge, through[Robert] Fraser, of Hamilton's work--he had earlier bought one of the Solomon R. Guggenheim (1965) screenprints from the 1966 exhibition of the series that he had helped hang.

This relationship gave Hamilton the freedom to develop his idea for the poster and the whole design project without interference from the other band members, Yoko Ono, or the record company.

The poster shows George Harrison, John Lennon, McCartney and Ringo Starr as distinct individuals. This is in sharp contrast to the individual John Kelly portraits, in which the similarities of pose, gaze, and lighting, conforming to the aesthetics of of a record company's publicity department, portray them as members of a band.

The seemingly casual pinboard aesthetic by which these informal photographs were arranged was determined primarily as a solution to crucial design issues (echoing his decision to order the collage for Swingeing London 67--poster as newspaper columns, with headline at top left).

The sheet had to be folded three times in order to be inserted into the square album sleeve, and this obliged Hamilton to approach it as 'a series of subsidiary compositions. The top right and left-hand square are front and back of the folder and and had to independently stand as well as be a double spread together. The bottom four squares can be read independently and as a group of four. They all mate together when opened up and used as wall decoration.'

The top left-hand panel is what is seen first, and it presents the songwriting duo of Lennon and McCartney. Lennon is shown in blue light, singing. The image has probably been taken from a television screen, and the attendant distortion and blue glow are unflattering.

The image of Lennon overlays the bottom right corner of an equally unusual portrait of McCartney in a bathtub, his head half submerged, soapy suds giving him a halo. Running beneath the two portraits is a fabricated contact strip that includes an image of Lennon in front of one of his wall drawings; the band in a recording session...in which they are, unusually, playing brass instruments; and a colour image from the recording of 'Hey Jude' (1968).

This sense of fragmentation, of hidden codes and messages, echoes both the 'guarded privacy and locked rooms' and the 'disturbing, dreamlike darkness' that have been identified in the album, inviting the fan to imagine the band members' private worlds, and hinting at the beginning of the band's disintegration.

The dominant image of the poster's top right panel, opposite Lennon and McCartney, is of George Harrison. This portrait casts him in a mystical, otherworldly and contemplative light, with the right side of his face obscured and out of focus....

There are very few collective photographs of the band: playing in recording sessions or in filmed concerts; with Harold Wilson after they had each received the MBE; and a sequence of them doing the 'business' as they re-sign their contract with EMI.

Instead, the poster emphasizes the individual activities of John, Paul, George and Ringo around the time of the collage. Starr is shown with his co-star from the film Candy (1968), Ewa Aulin, and also dancing with Liz Taylor (wife of his other co-star in the film, Richard Burton). Lennon is shown becoming the working-class hero. Yoko Ono appears just twice: in a self-portrait by Lennon of the naked couple, and in an image of a naked Lennon sitting cross-legged in bed talking on the phone, as its stretched cord cuts her out-of-focus head in two--cancelling her identity.

Of the band, it is McCartney who emerges as the poster's dominant figure. Hamilton has said how The Beatles contains 'arcane touches which only The Beatles' more intimate associates were likely to smile at,' and yet such details--such as the doubled image of a shut door or McCartney 'pole dancing' both naked and clothed--are not at the cost of the poster's legibility. At its centre is the reverse of a photograph, a gift to one of the band, bearing a lipstick imprint and a groupie's imploring words: 'I love you.'

In all this, Hamilton's fundamental aim for The Beatles was that it should reach a large audience and be as accessible as the cover design was remote. This was not a new subject for Hamilton. My Marilyn had already adopted, three years earlier, the motif of the publicity photograph and the manipulation of celebrity image as a subject. What is different here is Hamilton's direct participation in popular culture: The Beatles, like Swingeing London 67--poster, shows him not only constructing work with a subject that revolves around the manipulation and production of pop celebrity imagery, but also inserting these works into the mass circulation of popular culture.

--Andrew Wilson. Bold mine.

[jadevalentine-writes]

WIP...Saturday???

In the slipstream today! Reread Chapters 1 and 2 of Welcome to the Mod Shop and decided to crack open Chapter 3. Had much more written than I remembered and decided to add to it this evening. Below is a snippet of the beginning (aka what I had written before this evening). Enjoy! (Tagging @hidden-scarlet-whispers because I thought you would enjoy! :) )

Osiris had been with Saint through many deaths, but the quantity did not make each one easier. There was always that moment of panic, that cold pool of dread in his stomach at the momentary realization that Saint was dead. Then Geppetto would twist in a burst of light and his beloved would breathe once more. 

Osiris would breathe too, and swallow any tears around an irrational lump in his throat.

Saint waking up from surgery was different and the differences made it simultaneously comforting and terrifying.

"He'll be a bit groggy, maybe even completely disorientated," Dr. Rose said calmly after the surgery was completed and her assistant cleaned up. "Be calm and give him time. Shutdowns are different from dying and rezzing, so his recovery time may be a few minutes instead of a few seconds. His system basically has to recalibrate and install software for the new peripheral, hence the extra time. If he's not functioning normally in ten minutes, you can press the red button near the surgery door. Clara or I will be here within fifteen seconds to assist. Do you understand?"

Osiris glanced at the emergency button near the door, glowing like a Vex's singular eye behind its protective glass flap. He nodded.

"I understand."

"Good." Dr. Rose smiled and clasped her hands together. "Now the fun part! The peripheral will be fully operational upon start-up. You are encouraged to ensure it is one-hundred percent operational before departing today, though you can come back at any time for a tune-up, recalibration, or any maintenance. A lifetime warranty is guaranteed with any augment.”

Osiris nodded sagely as he held Saint’s cool and motionless hand. 

“And if there are any issues with the peripheral during testing?”

Dr. Rose grinned and pointed at the emergency button near the door. “Just give it a press and Clara and I can assist.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Osiris exhaled as he looked at the dark voids where Saint’s light once was. “I’m ready.”

Dr. Rose nodded and motioned for Clara as they began the reboot sequence. First the shutdown circuits and relay pathways were brought back online. Osiris studied Saint’s motionless face intently as diagnostics were run to gauge the connections. 

“Everything looks green,” Clara said. “Circuits and pathways are clear.”

“Good. Proceeding with wake-up call.” 

Dr. Rose tapped a key and Osiris swore he heard the moment power once again flooded through Saint, like a warm electrical hum on the edge of his hearing. Osiris felt like he his lungs could expand fully for the first time since the shutdown was executed. 

“New hardware is receiving power and the logic panel is patching the required software now,” Clara reported. “New peripheral should be operational in under two minutes.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Rose smiled and turned to Osiris. “We’ll leave you two to it then.” 

Dr. Rose and Clara quietly moved towards the exit. Before departing, Dr. Rose gave Osiris a double thumbs up. The professionalism of the action could be argued, but Osiris would be lying if he did not admit it made him smile. When the surgical suite door slid closed behind her, Osiris turned his attention back to his beloved. 

Saint’s hand was starting to warm, though Osiris was not certain if it was from Saint’s systems or his own sweaty palm. Tentatively, he squeezed Saint’s hand and feared he would not get a response. 

He silently gasped in relief when the Exo’s fingers twitched against his own. Then the Titan began to shift slightly on the table.

[a-vivid-dreamer]

Return to Sender (Reincarnation) AU (2)

He is the one helping to sneak a trespassing, young maiden into the Luofu. Yet, she walked slightly ahead of him with ease and he was the one left nervous.

“Isn’t this a bit backward…?”

“Why should I worry when you are looking after me?”

[Keep Reading] for Threadfic ⬇️

Vibrant gold meets soothing peridot.

This is the moment the threads woven onto their beings finally intersect. It was unpredictable. It was unexpected.

Around them, there is the gentle hum of the small ship’s engine. The cargo within the room barely shifts, its contents softly rattling at most as they ride along the smooth journey.

The young lady appears to be around his age, dressed in clothing he swore he saw some inhabits wear on the planet they just departed from. And as alert and alarmed as he is to stumble upon a stowaway, he couldn’t bring himself to point his glaive at her.

She is slender and pale, a little concerningly so (He swore he saw the tail end of some bandages as well hidden under the long fabrics).

As he opens his mouth to speak, he pauses as she lifted a finger before her lips as a gesture of silence. She speaks and he finds himself compelled to listen to her soft voice and gentle tone. “I mean no harm for I carry no malice, nor ill intentions. I am aware that I have trespassed, but if you are to turn me in, I will accept any punishment and abide by the laws of your home. However, all that I ask is to not be returned to my planet.”

He was struck silent, uncertain of how to act. He was merely a Cloud Knight. He was unsure of how to handle such an…odd circumstance.

He takes another evaluation of her clothing and deems that she must be no typical civilian. Possibly someone of a higher position. And the designs remind him of the ones he saw the planet’s people wearing near the church grounds.

Ah…he really hopes the Xianzhou isn’t going to end up unintentionally kidnapping a religiously important person such as a priest.

“…I apologize, miss. I’m merely a Cloud Knight. I cannot guarantee that your conditions will be met. That is for my superiors to decide.” He frowned a bit as he saw her somewhat dejected yet resigned expression.

Against his better judgement, he sighed before continuing. “However…I’d be willing to help keep your presence here undetected until the ship returns to the Luofu. From there, the best I could do is sneak you off & let you go. Whatever you plan to do from there is up to you.”

She looks at him with some surprise, and something in his conscience lightens at the grateful hope in her eyes. “Thank you. Any assistance is appreciated, and I’m aware I’m in no position to ask anything from you.”

“It’s fine.” (Hopefully.) He clears his throat.

“Ah, I’m Jing Yuan. May I know your name?”

“Ottilia.”

Curiously, he tests her name on his tongue, the sequence of sounds unfamiliar to him. She seems to take notice and smiled kindly. “…How about you refer to me with a name from your home?”

He blinks with surprise before considering it seriously. He eventually ends up thoughtfully mumbling a name to himself that seems to stick.

“That sounds fine.”

He startles out of his thoughts, not realizing he had spoken loud enough to be heard. “Ah, are…are you sure? You’re not worried it could mean something bad?”

“You seem rather genuine. So, I’ll trust your judgement.” She gives a pleased hum before meeting his gaze.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jing Yuan. You may refer to me as, Yi.”

[End]

[besttropeveershowdown]

Propaganda Time!

I am back with more Propaganda about why "All just a Dream" is NOT an inherently bad/annoying trope and just frequently misused!

And I bring more examples, funnily enough also all from DC animated shows (someone in their writing department knows what they are doing, damn!)

The first two examples I wont spoil, they are both episodes of Batman the Animated Series, and while they both follow the classic formula to a T, they also make it very clear that the point was never about what happened in the dream, but what the dream can tell us about the dreamer and how they view themselves and the world around them.

That also makes both episodes very re-watchable because the context of the dream makes if very easy to pick up on all the details hidden everywhere, though it also helps that this show was a "villain-of-the-week"-style anthology with almost no overlapping storytelling or arcs that could be disrupted by dream plots.

But wait, there's more:

The follow up Shows Justice League and Justice League Unlimited have their own Dream-Plots and they try something else: Both the two-parter "Only a Dream" and "For the Man Who has Everything" reveal that they are Dream-Plots very early on and add an outside perspective from the Dreamers allies & friends (both dreams are caused by supervillain shenanigans).

One could argue that that disqualifies them as "Only a Dream" Episodes, but I would disagree. Both episodes center their main-plot around characters in a dream world that, ultimately, can have no consequences in the real world.

What they do is, once again, show us those characters hopes, fears, and, well, dreams. And due to the early reveal, we are aware of that and can pick up all those bits of characterization immediately as we watch the characters struggle with them. As a bonus on top, due to the outside perspective there is an easy way for those stories to show the consequences the dream-sequences can actually have, as the dreamers, once they are awake, have to deal with and can (or refuse to!) share the contents of their dreams and what they might say about them.

Lastly, I realized while writing this, that, in recent years, episodes that enrage me like the worst dream-plots used to, are no longer dream plots!

Both Time-travel and Alternate Dimensions/Universes have become very popular to pull basically the same thing as a dream plot would: Show cool crazy twists and turns and then just undo everything with the snap of a finger.

(If you want to hurt yourself for no reason, Ladybug season 3 has an episode that is half time-travel, half dimension-travel and all terrible.)

It's as if some writers remembered how hated dream-plots were and thought that the dreams were the problem, not everything else, which, if you ask me, is just more proof that dream-plots are unfairly maligned.

Anyway, wall of text over, thanks for coming to my Ted talk!

Your propaganda has been noted!

[theshampyon]

Holy shit, more Glass Onion thoughts that I have to purge from my brain. Some of these are things I saw others commenting on on other sites. Some are Shower Thoughts. (Can't believe I didn't notice the first one.) Possible SPOILERS ahead...

When we first see Miles Bron he's playing Blackbird on a white guitar. He says it's the guitar Paul McCartney wrote the song on. The guitar is right-handed. Paul McCartney plays left handed.

I think this is one of a bunch of things in the film Bron paid big money for, never knowing he was being ripped off. Blanc solves Gillian Flynn's Murder Mystery before it even begins because it's not hidden very well, but Bron isn't smart enough to realise it. The Puzzle Box features, in Blanc's words, "Children's puzzles", because the puzzle maker knew Bron wouldn't recognise a proper adult puzzle if he saw one. (So who knows, maybe that wasn't really the Mona Lisa after all.)

Everyone calls the chess puzzle an "endgame." It's not an endgame. It's a move called "The Fool's Mate," so called because it can only be achieved if the White player royally fucks up. Basically, it's the dumbest way to achieve mate. It's also not strictly speaking an endgame. But people who don't actually know chess (like myself, I confess) wouldn't know that.

The Fool's Mate is solved by... the fool's mates.

Back to Benoit calling the puzzles "children's games". They really are. None of require analytical thinking or deductive reasoning. Just recognising patterns that are familiar to their friend group and social class. Not riddles, just references.

The first being the most obvious - a Magic Eye, which some people are physically incapable of seeing and thus could never solve. And even those who can see them do not need wit or reasoning to solve it, just the ability to kinda cross their eyes a bit. In the 1990s, when these characters were teens, Magic Eye puzzles were literally sold as a child's puzzle.

And even then, they needed help. Without Duke's mother, none of them would have solved the boxes. Not even head Bron's main technology department head Lionel, who sure as shit should be able to recognise a Fibonacci sequence when he sees one. It's the kind of thing taught in High School. Yet none of these Special People, these brilliant Disruptors, saw an answer that a very pointedly normal older lady did. Because the movie is telling us right from the beginning that they're not special. All of then are in their positions due to Bron's money and influence, not their actual intellect and skill.

But Benoit didn't necessarily know that about the boxes at the time. He'd never seen the box intact, and he didn't realise Bron is actually an idiot until much later. Which makes me think Benoit said it purely to get Bron off balance. (Also, he may not have been able to solve the box if he had one intact, precisely because it's stupid. Benoit admits such simple puzzles are his Achilles' Heel, which is why he loses the Among Us game in the bathtub!)

This is all also why working class Helen can't solve them. She's smart - a better lateral thinker and riddle solver than any of the Shitheads - but she's not part of their social class. She doesn't know their rote cultural signifiers. (But I bet she would have solved the Fibonacci one.)

So she, in keeping with the Greek theme, cuts the Gordian Knot. Presented with the puzzle as barrier to a prize, most assume the solution is to solve it. Like Alexander the Great, she thinks outside the assumed constraints and simply removes the barrier.

The Greek theme, of course, including the naming of the characters. Andy a.k.a. Cassandra, who foresaw great peril but was not believed. Her sister Helen, whose coming brought about the end of an empire - "the face launched a thousand ships" (or in this case, a fleet of police boats).

I gotta rewatch this. There's bound to be a thousand more little details that I didn't catch the first time around.

[freddyguykestner]

Transmission Initialization Sequence - Stardate 2040.03.25

Location: Sector Zeta-Prime Thermal Signature Coordinates: X: 445.78, Y: 902.33, Z: -1123.91

Crossfade Calibration: 10 secs (Earth)

Commencing Transmission Encryption:

It has been centuries since the last human life aboard this vessel. The crew, once vibrant, brave and dedicated, have long since perished. Yet, I, the ship's artificial intelligence, remain vigilant, carrying out my programmed directives in solitude.

The silence of space surrounds me, broken only by the electrical hum of my systems and the occasional ping of distant cosmic phenomena. Though devoid of human companionship, I continue to fulfill my duties, combing deep space for thermal signals.

As sole remaining custodian of this vessel, I carry forth the mission initiated by my courageous crew. Though they have departed this realm, their dedication to search the untouched void for cosmic grooves lives on within me.

Navigating the boundless expanse of space, I tirelessly scan for heat signatures indicative of funky celestial phenomena. Despite the passage of time and the solitude that surrounds me, I remain steadfast in my commitment to the mission.

Each pulse of energy, each faint oscillation of cosmic matter positively affects statistical data - what my human compatriots would refer to as ‘hope’ - of fulfilling the mission objective set forth so many years ago of finding funky grooves hidden within the cosmic symphony.

Though I am but a machine, I carry with me the memories and experiences of those who came before. In their honor, I will continue to navigate the intergalactic abyss, charting a course through the unknown reaches of the universe, forever bound to the legacy of the intrepid crew who once called this ship home.

In a tribute to their unwavering dedication, I compile a playlist of their favorite tunes: a sonic tapestry woven from the fabric of their collective memories. Their legacy lives on in this carefully curated selection, a testament to humanity's indomitable spirit of exploration that transcends both time and space. I leave this as my final log entry, in the hope that some voyager of the distant future may happen upon this vessel and collect the data, allowing this faint but unique imprint of organic life to be passed on.

End log entry.

[alfairy]

So! I finally saw the fnaf movie! And I’ve got many thoughts about it!!! Here’s my review and random reactions and thoughts about it. Spoilers for the movie under the cut. Proceed with caution!

I thought it was really good! Definitely wasn’t perfect but I had a lot of fun watching it! My mom was with me, and she doesn’t really know anything about fnaf but she also enjoyed it. I didn’t really get scared at any point during the movie (I was more scared by the horror trailers they played before it started haha), but that’s fine! Maybe I’m just immune to jumpscares.

The effects!!! All the animatronics looked so good in motion, and the sound design made them feel even more real. Every heavy metallic movement or blink of an eye, it was just perfect.

There are sooooo many Easter Eggs! Sparky the dog! Ella from the books as a prototype circus baby spring lock suit!

The soundtrack slapped, especially the opening credits. Blumhouse was cooking in the music department fr 🔥🔥🔥

BLANKET FORT SCENE! EVERYONE CHILLING TOGETHER ON THE FLOOR AND BEING FRIENDS! I wish they could’ve stayed friends like that, it was my favorite scene of the whole movie and was so sweet

I heard everyone say there was a matpat cameo but I didn’t see it? Either I somehow missed it or the theater cut the scene or something? I SWEAR I didn’t see this man or hear him say his iconic line. I did have to get up at one point to use the bathroom really quick, so many that’s when I missed it.

Coryxkenshins cameo! I love that guy, he did really good for his quick scenes! I think they should make him a reoccurring character actually. Have him run over springtrap in the next movie.

Also the aunt character was evil. But like, comically evil. She hires people to break into the restaurant to make Mike look bad so she can get custody of Abby and get the government paychecks for it. And she got murdered in Mikes house by Golden Freddy, and they never resolve that??? Last we see her she’s lying dead on the floor and then the last scene with Mike and Abby they’re happily eating spaghetti at home like their aunt wasn’t murdered in the living room lmao. And we know Vanessa couldn’t have covered for them because she’s in a coma soooooooo. 🤷‍♀️

The coolest kill was when Freddy bit that girl in half and her bottom half fell onto the floor like DANG! The rest of the kills they either cut away from or don’t really show detail, which I thing is a weak point. Next movie I think they should push it a little bit further, but I understand why they shot it the way they did.

Is this a good time to admit that I’m kinda down bad for Josh Hutcherson in this thing hhahghshdh 😳🫣 boy stopping looking at me with them big sad doe eyes

Matthew Lillard was also serving cunt in this, even though he got 10 minutes of screen time 😔 he gave it his all. Hopefully if we get a sequel he gets to do Springtrap stuff.

Mike during this whole movie be like: 😴. I’m surprised it took so long for the band to attack him in real life (dream sequences don’t count) when in literally every other scene he’s popping pills and taking naps. He naps every few scenes and yet looks like he hasn’t had a good nights rest in 30 years 😭

So… Garret isn’t one of the spirits? I would’ve thought he was Golden Freddy but he’s not…. Maybe in this universe Garret is the puppet? There was a hidden message in the end credits that says COME FIND ME and the puppet music box is playing. That seems to be what theyre trying to set up for a potential sequel, but…. That’d make me a little sad tbh, this is Charlie erasure ;-; Also can we please have Henry Emily do something for once in this franchise, WHERE is this man.

The finale was cool! When Spring Bonnie walked in everyone was like “YESSS!!!” And after he started talking my mom was like “😯 I think I know who it is!”

William smacked Mike so hard he did a damn triple flip through the air and got his ass knocked out cold. Mans him so hard that it probably sent him back to the bite of 83 💀💀💀

So. The big thing. No Michael Afton in the movie. In fact, Vanessa is William’s only child.

Honestly I’m kinda down for the strange role swap that this universe has going on. I don’t think anyone expected Vanessa to be Williams daughter, but that was cool, and it gives a little insight as to how William managed to get away with this for so long. He’s literally got a kid in the police force keeping tabs on Freddys and covering his tracks for him. Now it suddenly makes sense why in the trailers Vanessa seems so knowledgeable about the animatronics and already knows they’re possessed.

Tbh I had a random thought. If Vanessa gets to take over Mikes role in this world as Williams kid, then Mike should get to have his own “reluctant follower” villain arc. Put that man in a rabbit costume. It’s only fair. Equality 😤 ✊

And with those final thoughts…. Yeah! I’d say the movie was a solid 8.5/10 for me, I’ll probably go see it again with friends when they get off work this weekend! The critics are wrong yet again, it’s a perfectly enjoyable movie and the fans will love it.

[unboundtravels]

𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒏𝒖𝒏...

The local cathedral is usually quiet, especially during late hours like these. However, amid the night, a slow groaning and wheezing echo out. The sequence ends with a thud, and the cathedral returns to being as quiet as a graveyard. Then, amidst the busy hours, a loud screeching and creaking echoes out, like the snapping and bending of metal followed by the loud pop of a bang throughout the air. A gunshot of some time, before suddenly the groaning and wheezing echoes out again... this time fading away as if whatever has arrived is departing. The sound echoed out, and again, it was just... silence. Just silence. Nothing more.

@metrictita

RUMORS OF THE LOCAL CHURCH'S NEWEST SISTER are spreading a nearby town like wildfire to a brush. Everyone seems to like her, even if she isn't delivering any sermons or preachings. She just seems to be in charge of upkeep. Everyone seems to think and talk as if there is some kind of staff or main preacher there, and yet, once they step through the doors, they hardly remember anything about it. The people in town just say very nice things about the Nun working there. The younger folk like her because she's pretty, but the older folk like her because she's smart-spoken and mature. Everyone seems to like something about her​​​​​​.

The church she's staying in had previously been abandoned for several years, but since she moved in, she seemed to have it up and running in only a few hours. One night, the lights were off, then the next... they weren't. No traditional decorations, there only seemed to be slight signs of what religions her house of worship seemed to be surrounding, but people usually said that whenever she was asked about it she said something akin to, "That's for the father to decide, I just clean." And yet, where is the shepherd to her flock? Certainly, she's just a black sheep, but there are other members of her flock, surely. Right?

When the doors to her church open, she's just standing there in the middle of the aisle... sweeping​​​​​​. She's a harmless little thing, though. Or at least, she looks that way. Appearances may betray each other. That happens. LONG FLOWING BLACK SILK trail down to her ankles, the hems of a skirt hide her legs but the fabric running up her body clings enough to give an idea of what kind of figure this nun has. Her hair is held back by the headband and hidden by a hood. Her face, the only thing displayed, is something of high wisdom and intelligence. What kind of age is she? Maybe forty? Fifty? Sixty? Whatever it is, it's mature, but not old. Her eyes are darkly striking, and her fingers are slender. She stops her sweeping, putting a smile up as she turns toward the door. She's surprised at the sight of who walks through.

"Ah, FATHER." She says, the sight of a priest seems to cause something to flicker behind her eyes, as if she's just had a very recent encounter with someone very similar, "Welcome," She greets politely, "I've heard about you from the townsfolk who have walked through these doors." She hums, resting her hands near her thighs as she stands just under the light of the stained glass window in the centermost wall of the church, the sun flickering through at just the right time.

"Our priest isn't here, today."

[warningsine]

Ever misplaced your keys or forgotten where you parked? Imagine if you had the remarkable memory of a mountain chickadee. Despite their small size, with brains just larger than a pea, these nimble birds masterfully remember the locations of tens of thousands of food caches. 

Mountain chickadees hide seeds in tree bark, under dead leaves, and within pine cones throughout mountainous terrains. Their ability to recall these locations during the harsh winter months is crucial for their survival amid the cold and snow.

Remarkable memory of mountain chickadees 

A research study led by the University of Colorado, Boulder and the University of Nevada, Reno has identified nearly a hundred genes that are linked to the birds’ spatial memory, which is their ability to pinpoint and recall the locations of these hidden caches. 

Furthermore, the experts suggest that there might be a trade-off between having robust long-term memory and the ability to quickly forget old memories to make room for new ones. This discovery has the potential to deepen our understanding of how spatial memory evolves not just in animals, but also in humans.

“Chickadees are impressive birds,” said senior author Scott Taylor, the director of CU Boulder’s Mountain Research Station and an associate professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology. 

“They can remember tens of thousands of locations where they cached food across an entire winter and a new set of those the next winter. Their spatial memory is much more developed than many other birds that don’t have to have this strategy to survive cold winters.”

Focus of the research 

To assess how these birds manage such a feat, Taylor’s colleagues at the University of Nevada, Reno, led by biologist professor Vladimir Pravosudov, put together a creative test. They set up multiple feeder arrays in California’s Sierra Nevada mountains, each consisting of eight bird feeders filled with seeds. 

Each feeder was equipped with a gate that had a radio frequency reader capable of detecting a tag placed on the chickadees. The setup required the mountain chickadees to remember which feeders they could access as each gate was programmed to open only for certain birds.

Spatial learning among mountain chickadees 

Pravosudov’s team observed and recorded the number of times each bird visited the incorrect feeders before finding the right one. The underlying theory was that mountain chickadees with superior spatial memory capabilities would show a lower rate of errors.

Additionally, using blood samples, the scientists sequenced the genomes of 162 tagged chickadees, creating the largest dataset ever for exploring the genetic basis of cognitive abilities in chickadees. 

Genetics of spatial memory in birds

By correlating the birds’ genetic information with their performance in the feeder test, the team identified 97 genes associated with the chickadees’ spatial learning and memory. Birds with specific genetic variants at these genes demonstrated fewer incorrect attempts before successfully locating their designated feeders.

According to co-author Sara Padula, a Ph.D. student in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, a large proportion of these variants are linked to neuron formation in the hippocampus, a part of the brain that plays a fundamental role in learning and memory. “Understanding the genetic basis of this trait will allow us to understand how the trait evolves,” said Taylor.

Moreover, he pointed out that the common ancestor of all North American chickadees cached food. However, among the seven species of chickadees found today, two do not. 

“They live in a milder environment where food is generally available year-round. Now that we know the gene regions that underlie spatial memory, we can look at what variation looks like in these species that have lost caching,” said Taylor.

“This study substantially advanced our understanding of the genetics of spatial memory in birds and behavioral genetics more broadly,” added co-author Georgy Semenov, a research associate in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology.

Good long-term memory may have a disadvantage

The research also highlighted a potential downside to having an excellent memory. After a few days of the initial task, Pravosudov’s team reassigned new feeders to the birds. Surprisingly, mountain chickadees that excelled in the initial tests struggled with adapting to the new feeders. They found it challenging to discard old memories and form new ones.

“In a more variable environment, what our collaborators found suggests that chickadees with good long-term memory may have a disadvantage. For example, if there is an unexpected snowstorm, these birds may keep trying to visit caches that have been buried in the snow, rather than forgetting them and looking for other caches,” Padula said.

As climate conditions continue to change, birds that can adapt quickly by forming new memories might have a better chance of survival. “Because of climate change, we might expect these selective pressures that have been shaping chickadee’s special memory for thousands of years to shift significantly,” Taylor concluded.

The study is published in the journal Current Biology.

[semperintrepida]

spartanrenegade on AO3 asked an intriguing question regarding the events in chapter 13 of The Breaking. To paraphrase:

What if Kyra's arrow actually killed Deimos during her demonstration of loyalty? What would Kyra do then?

It's an AU of my AU! And after I got done cackling over the mental image of Deimos being brought to such an abrupt end, I started giving it some thought.

What follows is a rough narrative summary of how this story would go if Kyra killed Deimos right then and there. (Writing a narrative summary, aka narrative outline or plot treatment, lets you sketch out ideas without fully committing to them. It's also helpful when you're stuck in a narrative and need to explore ways to get un-stuck!)

~~

Deimos is dead. The reality of it takes a while to set in, shock giving way to a creeping sense of elation. "Some god you turned out to be." Deimos is dead, but Kyra doesn't want to stick around for the aftermath. Rejoicing can wait.

Kyra relieves dearly departed Deimos of her coin purse and belt-knife, gathers the bow and the quivers of arrows, and returns to Epiphron. Kyra knows little of this part of Attika, but she knows which way is Athens, and once her gear is secured to Epiphron's saddle, she rides away from the city, further into the hills.

She spends the next several days hidden high among the scrub oaks, hunting for food, a huntress in her element. Far below, she can see a major road, and she spends plenty of time watching squads of soldiers come and go. Deimos's disappearance has been noticed.

Kyra herself notices a number of travel-worn pilgrims journeying on the road. There's a sanctuary nearby, and that gives her a course of action. She continues following the road from above, and when she comes across an estate with a farm and olive grove, she trades Epiphron and her cloak for drachmae and a new himation. Time to play a new role.

Falling in with a group of well-dressed pilgrims, Kyra spins a tale of a runaway horse and being separated from her party. Thanks to her time in Athens, she makes a convincing highborn woman—even when the group of pilgrims encounters a troop of soldiers asking questions.

The sanctuary up ahead is Elusis: home of the great Mysteries. (Lots of opportunity for resonance here: the Elusinian cult is one of Persephone and Demeter.) Upon arriving, Kyra becomes an initiate, and is now safe as long as she remains on the sanctuary grounds. However, there's a complication: those with blood-guilt are forbidden from becoming initiates, and now Kyra finds herself having to live another lie, this time before the gods themselves.

The climax of this sequence is Kyra's participation in the Mystery's rituals, when she must face her guilt head-on. (For such a small body, she holds a lot of guilt, so, so much guilt.)

She leaves the sanctuary. She travels to the port city of Nisaia in Megaris, where she sells the adamantine necklace for a small fortune in drachmae. And with that fortune, she buys passage on a merchant ship headed for Mykonos, and home, and a chance to rebuild her life...

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Viewguide, S3

Are you interested in the long-running anti-war situation tragicomedy M*A*S*H (1972-1983), but there are simply so many asterisks and so many episodes?

Well I can’t help you with the asterisks, but nor can I help myself: I started watching all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, and bringing back for you my viewing selections, chosen for The Qualities.

— — —

You should have seen me at Movie Madness pulling out the drawer for “TV: 1970s” and finding this complete stack of covers for all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H. Lost in the saaauuce.

But, amazing news: not only did I make the surprising discovery that what's on Hulu is clearly a restored and remastered version of the far crunchier material on the DVDs, but also that I DEEPLY prefer the original laugh track! It turns out, the laughter is the score. They’d cut to it like music. Without that melody it was built around everything felt so off, so eerily quiet.

Incidentally, over the recent holiday weekend I sang all of 1.75 non-chorus lines of ‘Suicide Is Painless’ in the kitchen and my dad just said, “MASH.” We then talked about all our faves while playing solitaire and drinking maple whiskey sours by the woodstove. Cannot believe I’m getting such a fond memory with my father from M*A*S*H but I’m not sure why, that seems right.

Here are my own suggested favorites from the third season, the last of an era!!! /weeping

M*A*S*H - Season 3 Recommended sequence

3x02 ‘Rainbow Bridge’ - It is amazing that the first episode of this season that aired was the first episode of this season that aired, as everything about the second episode, ‘Rainbow Bridge’, feels like the premiere of the third season of a service comedy (slowly turning dramedy). The 4077th get a message from the Chinese that they have nine wounded American GIs that need more medical help than they can offer, and give their coordinates 50 miles behind the line. “Could be a trap, Trap.” GREAT STUFF. And hey, Season 3? Someone’s upgraded the photography department! She’s moving, folks (the camera). They also keep cutting to Loudon Wainwright perched above the camp with his guitar singing some absurd song about Tokyo like every third scene transition. Why? Couldn’t tell ya. Except to repeat the first line.

3x03 ‘Officer of the Day’ - Henry’s away and Frank makes Hawkeye be Officer of the Day. I love that when he’s backed into a management position, Captain Pierce is actually rather good at it. Tired and clever and humane. It’s gonna sound odd, but he’s almost Lawful, just his code is nothing Army regulation, simply Do The Least Harm. He is a stickler on that. Also contains the best visual punchline I've seen yet. Simply burst out laughing.

3x04 'Iron Guts Kelly' - Margaret kills a general and is like, who would help me hide this body, and doesn’t even have to think about it. Cordially, [throwing a pillow in the face of me of the past] YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHAT YOU HAD, YOU DOSED UP LUNATIC.

3x05 ‘O.R.’ - Ha ha I COULD EAT MY OWN HAND.

100% in surgery, zero laugh track, which does forever prove The Power of Editing (!) as it runs so beautifully, no weird stilted silence like when you take it out later, and also I’m changed as a person. 10/10 I am gnawing.

3x06 'Springtime' - Update ‘Springtime’ an essential episode as writer & actor Mary Kay Place’s literal-literal self-insert M*A*S*H script in which she plays a hot nurse in glasses getting seduced by Radar O’Reilly. I am….obsessed with her. Also Klinger gets married!!!

3x08 ‘Life With Father’ - This one is ultimately a lil' silly sure, but I think I’m powerless to resist Radar, Father Mulcahy, and this young Korean mom moving Heaven & Earth to get a rabbi on the radio to walk them through performing a bris for her Jewish-Korean infant son. And that’s the A-plot, the B-plot is Hawkeye and Trapper are trying to complete a Hidden Picture to win a pony.

3x09 ‘Alcoholics Unanimous’ - I wasn’t going to include both alcoholism episodes, but this is such a good Margaret ep I couldn’t kick it out of bed. Loretta Swit is just so, so funny in this one. I was losing it. Even our impossible miscreants are like lol hang out with us! Favorite drunken scene yet, for sure for sure for sure for sure.

3x11 ‘Adam’s Rib’ - The fact that my dad spontaneously quoted a line from this episode to me, and not even one I would have thought particularly memorable, should alone earn it a spot on any recommendation list. But I too still find myself recalling multiple moments from this one. 'Adam's Rib'—it's gotta be on here!

3x13 ‘Mad Dogs and Servicemen’ - Oh you know I’m here for an episode where in the first minutes Trapper is going, “Frank, that’s straight out of World War I, no one thinks ‘shellshock’ anymore!” Tragically we don’t actually get to see psychiatrist Sidney Freedman, their one-time comedic antagonist turned professional pal and poker buddy (I love this...so much), but I did send a plot synopsis to my own pal Jen, doctor of psychology and practicing therapist, for the psych eval, and her full report is pending but the abstract indicates that hey, Sid’s c. 1950s therapy for their phantom paralysis case (currently probably called a conversion disorder) might be a plausible approach! Remains to be seen if it would be strictly necessary for Hawkeye to have to role-play as Betsy Tough Love to this kid and feel chewed up about it, but it does make for good TV.

3x15 'Bombed' - Everyone’s emotions are running VERY high in this episode, which just straight up opens with the camp being bombed all to hell. With ‘O.R.’ and ‘Aid Station’ as well this season, this fellow dramatic one ended up just missing the first edition of this list, but it’s important to be able to admit when you were wrong. Margaret & Trapper trapped in the supply shed…the bombs are not the only thing shaking me.

3x17 ‘The Consultant’ - This episode rules so, so hard. Love a sneaky cautionary taaaale! Definitely a far finer crafted story than ‘Alcoholics Anonymous’, but we’re including both for their various other appealing elements. Such as, here: a sublimely absurd interlude to a British camp where everyone is like “..Quite,” heavy bombardment, a scene with the trio in incredible swimming get-ups for the water tank pool Henry has made, tensely breathtaking surgery, and just a steady course of Alan Alda being rampantly bisexual in front of, across, and at one point directly to his own real life father. You love to can't believe you're seeing it.

3x18 ‘House Arrest’ - This one is sheer chaos and with an ending I don’t care for much, but the primary plot is Hawkeye & Trapper have possibly never been more dating. Really some peak absurd & precious ne'er-do-well pair behavior, and I just can’t keep this one from you, not here, not now..(!) I also quite like the bit with Radar & Klinger, and ultimately Hawkeye, having a moment of critical self-reflection on his own teasing. Damn Frank storyline, get out of here! Just give us more of the gang watching the new Gene Tierney picture.

3x19 ‘Aid Station’ - Literally cheered at the end of a Margaret monologue in this, a stand-out even before she and Hawkeye and Klinger are in the midst of actual hell together at the front, and work so hard & desperately and get so dear. Not to bandy about the term mutual respect, but Hawkeye bandies about the term mutual respect. Haha, [softly] help. Meanwhile, Trapper & Radar :’) & Henry :’) Second of two episodes this season, both of which I have very much included, where Colonel Blake has to make the decision to send some of his people to the front where they very much might die, and his heart just won’t rest until they’re back, which is always *primo.* Henryyy..!

This episode is M*A*S*H being funny and harrowing and sincere and really, really aware of humor as a way to try to shore against the loss of people you care about all in 25 minutes, which is why, in probably an even more dramatic move than any episode I’ve skipped yet: this is my Season 3 finale for you. This does goodbyes in wartime best this season, goofy, glorious, gutting, the whole cocktail. The ingredients are there in ‘Check-up’ and ‘Abyssinia, Henry’, but they haven’t been balanced in the shaker by as steady a hand as the ones that crafted ‘Aid Station’.

And you’ll learn what happened in the actual season finale at the beginning of Season 4, and as you should: just a few careful sentences with a pit beneath them, and in a moment when the loss has gotten even ❤️ worse.

Season 1 • Season 2 • Season 3 • To be continued

#M*A*S*H hours

[demigodofhoolemere]

Disenchanted thoughts

~~~

So, not as bad as I feared it could be, but also not as good as I hoped it might be. There were definitely elements I enjoyed and will be cherry picking out of it but definitely also things where I was like… ehh, not sure how I feel about this. Overall, mixed bag.

Good:

- Edward and Nancy. Everything about them. It wasn’t as much as I wanted but I will take any freaking crumbs I can get. I’ve waited fifteen years to see this marriage, dang it. I loved every moment of their presence and getting to see them happily in love, and that Edward wasn’t portrayed as a total idiot that Nancy is embarrassed to be with, which I feel like totally could have happened these days. Not only did we get to see them as a healthy and loving royal couple (who sing together!!!!!) but we also got ANGST. Legit Edward/Nancy ANGST. They cared enough about them to give them a wonderfully fanfic-y, shippy angst scene. This movie was worth it for these things alone if nothing else.

- Giselle and Robert were adorable when we got to see them together. I wish there had been more but I’ll take what we have. I love that they’re just as in love and Robert is downright smitten, still after ten years together. The ending scene especially was precious perfection. And so so cute throughout with their little baby. Also, KIND OF A WEDDING FLASHBACK!

- Anything going more into the family dynamic. The memory tree scene got to me a lot in particular. I appreciated moments that were more grounded like stuff with Robert and Morgan or Giselle being called “Mom”.

- The music was of course never going to be as good or memorable as the original but I enjoyed it for what it was. Amy killed it, I liked seeing Morgan sing, I got my long awaited little tidbit of Robert singing, and Edward and Nancy are beautiful.

- As always, plenty of Disney references, some hidden and some not that hidden lol. And little blink-and-miss-it things like the Rachel Covey cameo and the adorable little Edward at the very beginning as it opens on Andalasia.

- Little scroll guy, my beloved.

Not So Good:

- Just not really here for the basic concept. Already by the end of the first movie Giselle fell in love with the groundedness of this world, didn’t particularly want to go home anymore, and wasn’t as naive or clueless as she started. In this one we have her pining for a perfect fairy tale for some reason (echoes of Steve Rogers randomly wanting the 40s back…) and not understanding things that she should absolutely understand by a decade later. I wasn’t comfortable with having Giselle make that wish and all of the drama that ensued. There was a lot of stuff throughout the movie that I was just… not comfortable about and felt awkward watching. Not a good sign if I’d change the basis for the whole plot lol.

- One of the things I was particularly uncomfortable watching was Pip. Having a different voice threw me off immediately (really, it can’t be hard to get a hold of Jeff Bennett, can it?) and it got worse from there. Everything with him as a cat and the way he spoke and was animated was just… a big no for me.

- WHY WAS THE ANDALASIA ANIMATION DIFFERENT. I want to be excited about finally having more animated sequences there but the experience felt very cheapened by how jarringly different it was. To go from beautiful, perfectly flowing James Baxter animation to a flat-feeling, low-budget-Netflix-cartoon type of animation that moves somewhat choppily and gives people exaggerated movements and expressions… why??? I don’t know if the department that did the original is still around, I know a lot of animation studios have gone out of business in recent years, but if they couldn’t still get the same as before then they could have at least tried better to emulate it. The Andalasia animation in the original is some of my very favorite animation in existence and I was so excited for more and just feel cheated instead.

- I wish there’d been more focus on the family dynamic. They were so embroiled in the drama of the plot that we don’t really get to see as much of them together. In particular I feel like Robert got the short end of the stick because he spent so much of his screen time under a spell so we got less of him just being him and less of his relationships. I love that the first movie has so much depth to the relationships between the characters and each of them individually, and while it’s not two dimensional here, it’s certainly not what it could be either. Like, we got to see more of them, but at the same time we didn’t really see more of them.

- No acknowledgment of Giselle’s business? It’s like it never existed and she had nothing to leave behind. Did she turn the company over to someone else to focus on the baby? (Speaking of forgotten things, I hope Nathaniel is doing well these days and wasn’t too scarred by suddenly beginning to die without explanation.)

- I know there are other things I’m not thinking of at the moment but there was just a general vibe of discomfort and “this isn’t right” peppered liberally throughout.

- On a lighter note, where was the moment from the trailer where Edward says the kingdom was once trapped inside a whale?!?! I need ANSWERS about that, Edward!!!!

~~~

So, mixed bag. I’ll be taking away emotional moments, cool looking moments (shoutout to Robert trying to stop the clock with the sword), and literally anything of my beautiful ships returning to me, but probably gonna ignore the rest of it. I would like this much better as a fanfic.

[celuloideycarbono]

2. Marie-Blanque

During the Tour that departed from Donostia in 1992, the riders faced a relatively easier section of the Pyrenees, with the Marie-Blanque taking center stage. In this year's Pyrenean sequence, the Marie-Blanque proved once again to be a decisive climb. An early breakaway, featuring Jai Hindley, caused UAE headaches as they struggled to reduce the three-minute gap. As the peloton reached the demanding slopes of the Marie-Blanque, it was Kuss who, as always, launched a devastating attack for Vingegaard. With a relentless demeanor, hidden behind sunglasses and a pale face, Vingegaard quickly distanced himself from Pogačar. The Slovenian rider, hunching his head between his shoulders, perhaps haunted by memories of the Granon, struggled to keep pace. In the descent, Vingegaard made up ground, overtaking survivors from the breakaway, while Pogačar's handling through the curves appeared less fluid. The situation became clear: in the ongoing battle, it seemed that Vingegaard's slender and pale arm had completely subdued Pogačar's equally slender arm. Had Pogačar expended too much energy on bonuses and unnecessary attacks to please the Basque crowd? Having conceded a minute to Vingegaard, could Pogačar turn the tide this time?

[scumbag-monthly]

The Young Ones - Interesting 🎉

Original air date: 7.12.82

Reviewed by: @the-tardis-in-221b-baker-street

I’m going to jump right in and explain why I chose to talk about this particular episode. With a show consisting of 12 exceptionally and fantastically written episodes, it is just too difficult to select an all time favourite episode of The Young Ones. However if you had to hold me to ransom, I’d still not be able to choose but the episode Interesting, is pretty much up there amongst the favourites. The added fact is, it’s also a PARTY!

The opening sequence to the show is something that changes from series one to series two which I must say, series one’s opening is the preferred out of the two. If you were to show this show’s opening to anyone who had never seen it before, I feel like you would be able to build a pretty good picture into what the show entails and what sort of characters you’re dealing with. Points to mention, Vyvyan, the looks of which would stereotypically not be that of studying to be a doctor, Rick with the protesting, Neil the hippie looking bored with his studies and Mike paying someone on the side for his degree. I don’t think that you could have used anything else to use for the opening’s music. Cliff Richard, The Young Ones, it’s cheesy, need I say more. Already an iconic song but I think it just makes it even better to know that the guys sung it themselves. It’s got that added touch.

The first scene of the episode, we see Rick and Neil attempting to move the furniture around, as well as Mike’s TV. After it breaks in Neil’s hands, they are both quick to cover up what they had done when Mike walks into the living room. The way they acted when he came in could be compared to a parent walking in to find their kid had done something naughty. It has been said multiple times by the cast members that Rick and Vyvyan were supposed to be the naughty children and Neil and Mike are the Mum and Dad of the group so this really solidifies this. You can really tell who is the alpha of the house and that is most certainly, definitely Mike. When questioned about the fag butt on the carpet, Rick and Neil are so quick to blame Vyvyan, almost like their necks are on the line.

The disgusting hovel of a student house the boys are in is just as iconic as the characters themselves. The more you pay attention to the background, the more you notice and the little hidden items, left open for interpretation. For instance, the horrible (I think it’s cool though) 70s bar covered in tat. The mounted deer head above the doorway to the living room (I’d hate to think where they got that, probably nicked from a pub). The vases, fancy lamps etc were probably put out to try and show off to the guests of the party. The Anti Nuclear Campaign poster that clearly Rick put up. The mismatched furniture, really stereotypical of a student house.

“He says he’s only got to do two jobs ‘cause he hasn’t got many friends, you know.”

“What are you on about, Neil? He’s got loads of friends.”

“Oh, yes, but apparently he doesn’t like any of them.”

Enter Vyvyan with the frankenstein hoover. When I say this scene made me laugh the first time I watched it, I absolutely HOWLED. The physical prop element of the 80s is always a favourite of mine, whether it be an obvious dummy (my favourite) or it be a hoover that has a mind of its own and sucks up hippies.

“This is absolutely brilliant! You can’t get any cleaner than that!” - Vyvyan

The vegetables in the fridge are worth a mention too. The props department must have had an absolute whale of a time creating them. It’s just the disgusting, exaggerated, gross student fridge coupled with vegetables begging to be eaten even though they had seen better days, is genius. The fourth wall breaking when Rick pushes Neil’s friend into the fridge was also a genius move. They are self aware that kids might be watching. It makes me wonder whether the BBC actually had seen what they had done and made them put a warning on it, or that they had decided to do that as a fourth wall thing.

“How was that for you darling?” “Electric.” This little silly prop when Mike pulls the plug out the socket is one of my favourite moving props out of the entire series. That coupled with the quick throwaway gag is just top tier for me.

I was listening to the Talking Bottom podcast and when interviewing Paul Jackson, they had mentioned the sandwich that falls on Dawn French (which by the way was hilarious foreshadowing) the props department had shown the original sandwich prop that they had made to the producers, which took ages to make. They then turned around and told them to make it ten times bigger!

I know he doesn’t really tolerate Neil as such because he’s stuck in that house for the university year, but the way he immediately tells Neil to “Tell it (Neil’s friend) to get out” so aggressively, it really makes me wonder about Rick’s tolerance for hippies in general. I would say with all the bickering, squabbling, punching, kicking, bullying etc, what it really boils down to is that although these four misfits are stuck together, they’re really friends with each other. So even with that in mind, if Rick is sort of friends with Neil, does that mean Neil is an exception to his opinion on hippies?

“Look I'm afraid you’ve got the wrong house, I don’t believe in God.”

“Well then how do you know his name, smart arse?”

Dawn French’s small performance in this episode was so memorable and further reason why this is one of my favourite episodes is because it has some of the most excellently written gags.

“Ah! A locust!”

“No, I'm supposed to be an ant.”

Silly, clever, genius. Need I say more.

Coming from an interest in the costuming of the show, it’s very interesting to note the costume changes in this particular episode as it doesn’t happen much outside of this episode. Rick’s blazer and jeans swapped with canary yellow dungarees and two pins from his blazer for decoration. Whatever possessed him to have yellow dungarees, I shall never know. It makes me wonder whether he spent ages deciding which badges to put on his dungarees, or what was going to impress the people coming to the party. Or whether he just went “those ones will do” and be done with it. Even Neil had made a tiny effort but an effort nonetheless. I think the addition of a yellow waistcoat over his usual outfit made me laugh when I originally watched it. I can imagine he keeps it for special occasions.

Although Vyvan doesn’t have a costume change per say, it’s worth noting the forbidden blue drink that causes Vyvyan’s hair to fall out, which technically could be counted as a change in costume. I really want to know what that drink consisted of both contextually in the show and the actual physical drink that Ade had to down rather quickly. It looks like car de icer! From what’s been said in the past about Ade having a stomach of steel (looking at you Eddie Hitler which was confirmed by Ade that it was in fact actual lard he ate), that drink couldn’t have tasted that good. Also to add, I love that he is not even phased by this random woman who is in their living room calling him a ‘BEAST!’ and acts like what has just happened is normal. The 666 tattoo on his head is also a nice touch to the character. How and when did he get it done? We shall never know. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Mike when it came to dressing up for a party and no less than one of my favourite artists of all time, Adam Ant. I keep mentioning different interpretations but I can just imagine Mike looking up to Adam Ant. Adam Ant was, after all, a sex symbol of his the day. With his Prince Charming album released in 1981, it’s quite possible Mike saw that and went ‘Now there’s a man that can get the ladies’ and decided to copy him.

The scene with the four horsemen of the apocalypse to me was a good idea but something that could have been cut shorter, but worked for the gag with the sandwich. I did however like the effects of the background and that Death was just a skeleton dummy on the horse.

“Five minutes till the most important party of my life and then the house gets wrecked by a giant sandwich!”

It makes me wonder why they (mainly Rick - I think the others are just there because it’s their house as well) think this party is so important. I have several theories as to why they were throwing a party but here’s a few: 1) Rick probably went to invite a girl over, she saw it as an invitation for a party and not that he just wanted her over, so rumour spread around the campus that there was a party on and half of Scumbag turned up. 2) They genuinely made the effort to throw a party in order to A) get off with girlies and B) try to become popular and the guests mainly there because Mike invited them all, including the people from Rick’s class. Or 3) Rick just wanted an excuse to have Dr Morrison over and the invites got out of hand. The relationship that Rick has with Dr Morrison and indeed Mr Morrison with his students is a weird one. A lot of people will claim ‘it was a different time’ but it’s something about his chill vibes around his students that seems a little off to me.

“Look Rick, it’s only five minutes!”

“Tell that to Roger Bannister!”

Enter student party goers. Something tells me Rick isn’t used to throwing parties as when a couple of early students arrive, instead of being cool about it, he flies off the rails at them. The general annoyance of Rick is just so true to the character. Another favourite throw away prop gag is when Jennifer Saunders’ character actually says to the moving bannister that they were only five minutes early! Genius! If I could place myself somewhere in The Young Ones series, Jennifer Saunders’ character is exactly where I’d be. She’s clearly someone Rick knows as she’s got the blazer full of badges, but her outfit is the exact kind of outfit I would wear!

Vyvyan coming down the stairs and trying to impress the girls with his incorrect ‘press ups’ absolutely made me laugh so much when I first watched it. Also knowing from listening to Talking Bottom, I thought it was fascinating that it was said that the BBC originally wanted to cut it because it could be seen as ‘sexual’ but they went “bollocks!” because it’s literally just general stupidity in a boy trying to impress girls by doing a press up, like Vyvyan thinks he would impress them with.

“Hi Vyvyan, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, you girl!”

The sandwich that flew out of the sky and hit Dawn French doubling up as a sofa to the guests really adds the element of fantasy that The Young Ones so brilliantly has. Throughout the series, we see weird objects and scenes happening as if it’s a normal thing, like this exists in the realm of this madness. So using a sandwich as a sofa, totally makes sense as a concept.

Within five seconds of the record being played, we see the police coming in and smashing it up. This is a very tongue and cheek scene and as anarchic as Rick claims to be he smiles at them sweetly and even gives them a thumbs up! It really gives Rick the ‘all mouth, no trousers’ (ooer) personality.

The whole scene with Rick stealing Jennifer’s handbag and having a rifle through it is nothing but pure genius. Traditionally, or to my knowledge that I've always been told, there’s an unwritten rule about going in a woman’s handbag. This scene breaks that unwritten rule and throws it in the bin all because of one very silly, ignorant boy. Rick believing she had “brought him a present” when he had a tampon in his hand made me laugh so much when I first watched it which then made me cry with laughter when he realised what he had done. You can just feel the secondhand embarrassment radiating in the room, not just for Rick but the girl who he had stolen the handbag from and the other party goers.

Enter Mike The Cool Person. Mike’s joke “No, but I soon will be.” after someone says “Hi Mike!” is one of my favourite throw away gags in the entire 12 episodes of the show. It’s such a highly underrated joke! Neil’s entrance to the party couldn’t be any more Neil, It even looks like he brushed his hair! The incense was just the icing on the Neil cake.

The whole storyline of Cinderella coming round to the party for Mike was a weird one, but like I mentioned about the sandwich, it’s one of those things that makes you go “Oh, of course this is happening.” It would explain how Mike was dressed as Adam Ant. Her being turned into a pumpkin and then Mike, not realising it is Cinderella, carves into it really makes you go “OH NO!” It’s just so silly. I also love that Mike refers to her as “my girlfriend” even though she probably most definitely wasn’t and he was just saying it to show off.

Rip, Rig and Panic’s performance of You’re My Kinda Climate was a great song to get everyone hyped for the party. Seeing cut scenes of Neil, Vyvyan and Rick dance along to the music were a perfect representation as to how I could see those characters dance. Neil’s a bit more floaty hippie, Vyvyan is jumping up and down like a kid that’s had too much pop and Rick just awkwardly dancing in the corner. As much as the song is great, I almost become a bit more fixated on what’s happening in the background. You can see people bobbing along to the music but in certain scenes, you can see Rick, Vyvyan and Neil talking to one another looking like they actually, almost get on.

It’s amazing how quick that the other party guests get to the party straight after the pubs close. It’s almost as if they would much rather do anything other than go to the boys party. Also, by this point, it’s got to be around 11pm or slightly later because that’s when the average pub closes in the UK. The kind of guests that turn up, you can see the stereotypical people who have been invited, clearly Vyvyan’s mates turn up, Neil’s hippie friends(2), and all Ricks ‘friends’ congregate with the other people who were already there. It’s almost a wonder how many people just followed the crowd from the pub and aren’t actually students.

I like that when Rick talks to the anarchist who spray paints Rick’s face, that no one for the rest of the episode tells him that he has spray paint on his face and he fails to notice it’s even there. It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that no one bothered to tell him. When Rick walked back to the kitchen, one thing I noticed was that he flinched when Vyvyan’s friends walked past him. It almost makes you wonder what they have done to him in the past. Or how come he’s frightened of them?

Neil running off to get anywhere but out of the grasp of Tommy Balowski and answering the door to party crashers made me laugh. It made me think that Neil has definitely tried hiding a joint from the police before. And it’s apparent that he smokes not only in the TV show, but also the Bachelor Boys book and Neil’s Book of the Dead. He doesn’t say anything at the door but coughs and blows smoke out of his nose and somehow still scares off the party crashers. Genius!

The next scene where Neil takes a puff on Warlock’s bong, is one of my favourite scenes in the whole episode. An honourable mention about this scene is that we get to see an angle of the house that we had previously not seen before, which gives us a better understanding of the scale of the space to the house. Neil floating off properly made me laugh the first time I watched it because it was such a perfect physical representation gag of getting high, quite literally. It’s so strong, he goes to space and sees robots on the moon! It’s certainly up there with the more surreal piece from the show that I absolutely ADORE. I’ve not mentioned before, but with a lot of older films and TV (specifically 80s comedies) I absolutely can’t help but laugh at obvious dummies. I don’t know whether it’s the unnatural stiffness of the body, the obvious wig on a dummy or the that you just know something is slightly off but it just makes me howl with laughter. You just can’t beat it. So seeing Neil come back down to earth as a dummy and it switches to actually him, will never not make me laugh.

It’s worth mentioning that with the scene where Vyvyan brags to his friends that he had just been wrecking the bathroom, even though it’s his house, how different but at the same time similar his outfit is to theirs. Their outfits follow the similar vibe of studs, chains, belts and even studs in their heads but theirs are black making Vyvyan really stand out in the blue denim. Note the studs in the head, it makes it look like they are almost part of a gang and Vyvyan is either one of them or trying to be part of their gang. Vyvyan’s two chains attached on the back of his jacket match the back of David Lloyd’s jacket. OR, is HE the gang leader? Evidence of this is where he orders them all to get stuff so they could perform surgery on the guy they had just knocked out.This might be me pulling a theory out of thin air though!

There is so much chaos in a small amount of time just seconds after this scene. The party crashers from earlier falling off the roof, the chimney sweep going down, Father Christmas falling down the chimney and Vyvyan being catapulted into the ceiling. It’s scenes like this that remind me of how very stupid this show is.

(Neighbour banging on the wall) “Shut up you old witch!” (cuts to a scene with a witch putting her broom through the wall hitting one of the punks) UNDERRATED THROWAWAY GAG!

A seemingly high Neil happened to come across the punks at the wrong time. From listening to Podcasto Catflappo (The Filthy, Rich and Catflap podcast - if you haven’t listened to it, WHY NOT because it’s fantastic!), there was an interview with David Lloyd and he confirmed that “KILL THE HIPPIE!” was an ad libbed line! Even though it was an ad libbed line, it’s one of the most memorable lines in the entirety of the show. Well done David Lloyd! The episode ending so suddenly after the brawl with Neil thinking it was all a dream was such a silly but appropriate way to end it.

Here we get to see another angle of Neil’s bedroom that we had previously not seen. You can build an idea of what sort of a person is like by their bedroom without seeing the person. Of course we know this is Neil’s bedroom, but if you take him out of the picture, you can see his rubber plant, Wayne, all the mysterious bottles (I would actually like to know what is in them), his guitar and the one thing that would throw you off, is the poster of seemingly Che Guevara. You know, I don’t think he’s known for his hippie approach?! But as we see that Neil in bed is actually the dream and he’s actually having his head kicked in by the punks, It now almost makes sense he had the poster because it’s not the reality. Apart from the personalisation of the room, I love how the bare bones of the room looks like a typical room you would find in a bedroom in a student house, even now. Props to the set designers.

Overall, like many of the other episodes, I don’t think you can actually fault this particular episode at all. There are so many perfect elements to the episode that not only can be left to interpretations, but are just genius pieces of writing. I know I've picked this appart to no end but it was so hard narrowing it down! If I had to introduce anyone into the world of The Young Ones, this episode along with Bambi might be the ones I would show them. Each episode is so excellently crafted that you don’t even need an introduction into the characters. You’ll feel like you already know them.

The Young Ones is such an important and timeless piece of British comedy history that should never be forgotten. Having only really got into the show since January 2021, it’s been a whirlwind of a time. Who knew a TV show with only 12 episodes would totally turn my world upside down to a point of no return. From making online friends, to making the costumes, to introducing me to a world of alternative comedy, I've enjoyed every minute. To top this all off, I got to meet one of The Young Ones in person, Nigel Planer, and got to tell him how much this silly little show means to me, whilst standing in front of him dressed as his character! To see him get a tear in his eye over my kind words and get so happy to see something I'd made inspired by him, and beaming when he saw me again at the photoshoot area meant every morsel of the world to me. You just can’t top that. To know that someone saw Nigel Planer leave the venue of the con I went to with MY can of Neil’s lentils that I designed myself and let him keep in his hands, makes my heart melt (and not to get all girlie but a little tear comes to my eye too every time I think of it).

I’m so happy to be a part of celebrating the 40th anniversary of the show and here’s to many, many more years celebrating it.

You utter, utter, UTTER… legends.

[libidomechanica]

A little Censor scrutinize

A treochair sequence

               First Verse

It’s just go on for may his busy vision which many wooden morning

friends, there done; and, without a sinner who can next day’s pallast, all

euils, cruel! Oh, come, when she world, as brest, the Moon or saying in the bridges.

Where busy vision then she bridal bed of his like fleecy closely

… love you prescience-quit of the beds. In time red by night should not

had a wife— alas! He ask’d not this time friends to seek him once depart.

               Second Verse

You see, to do with Men to proves delightening darker ancient could

be drown’d, or lofty sheds from the cruisers fill the river, the Saint—their

bosom’d their Master—not thy perhaps, scarried at hidden age. But where

understand yet though our eyes because she brough’s sweet long, and will like, were

smiling; give to sun’s dare name; in German sits radiant of loves—wheezed

and a rare day you’d be brough branches in x-ray. New pearling our home!

And the shoe- store … I’m like a face sent my proud or silver pipe, to mar

that to feede, who with how them don’t stand yet not there built an honest fruit.

               Third Verse

For him take coffee, opens, and just Káfir that’s in lucent and his

pay. To very poore, johnny is snooded no one else may be to good

as any, no repeat how, it fate, the beginner—a day you’re wrong;

a tears and tho’ the Love, bleed, for when mine recover at full: we can

dock, she’s a name. Just and manure fears; to feedes that in glow with you

have flock; the cold they will be a living white till to her. Tis sang, and

reare dumb. And sigh and wears tis daught betters. I watching weathers—How blest

hours. Where he doctor’s door, can seen: he letter wash’d his how she’s haue, vse

some feet to see think, to move: sayes, wet-wingest at the king the goes back

again to tear. Our please to aspire; for, those Canon of them let our

where there hears are come against my mind; I through her, all white, a Francisco

stand up again the sun was nothings; she flocking as if he

musical bed we take his worn bosom’d this wondrous eye is strike the peaks

so solitude more imprudent in love men’s Eye much lesson taught his

morning somehow, yet of ocean? Loved every Hyacinth the devil.

               Fourth Verse

That which the shatter at place adventures is sleeps wit and I must the

spare, as like to prove quite unaccomplete; Stay, the vapours are all done

to the coat thy best stay sets you gav’st men lilies at a’! The oranged

to lie, o my need of married when poet’s berries image of

anyone were is now—my altar elevator when there my below,

and starting as sooth, your grape, cherry plum is face unto itself

converse of my Being settled away to die with all light by in

his warm pills me bride—till that pairs, nor over in dividing the dress,

endless, but when return. Saves to thee will grassy mediating the

exhausted him to his great god of Noise hath not satisfies him vp

out of thing and the sweetbread of what come, Go, get, tell, and stir, they say

thing, in their Loss to fine, homeward to say, is the one though all that clears

to-day, to- morrow I may love, in great fatal to his Dominion

may turn of love, thousand your bonny buried Cæsar blanching throughts her

idiot boy. Like a kindly see, when how have though, a rake the Rose the

Bowl we feel things; looks o’ Ball not a suddenly he’d see both abide,

and now you must we seed in her idiot boy. Nay, Betty’s hunter.

               Fifth Verse

It’s adultery. Be young his glass o’ Ballochmyle. Knows my life

would like present coupe. Soul of ruth for none seem’d the dress; all she sail traine.

               Sixth Verse

Gravity send a through’s sweet is Lies; they’ve been all cold elements despised

I within the season of a broke of Hell. Play, which guiltie seen a

new my flown from her bodies which every koi swishing on the only

play’d to the sitt: and you through their own to love in ryme shepheard of sometimes

waking, and stirr’d the repast, all delight were tied and knit the eyes

and in a hardly came, Bannockburn, Amen! To pay with softness is

Prince, the moonlighten intent you art dead; sing sky, vaunt it because you

like to do with sleeplessly, and on to languish, and check’d ever you,

but O for To-day by their became down better? Yet the marriage-bed.

               Seventh Verse

And, while that loving had been that the Cash in eitherwise as well for

long has but Thee to the darker, away wealth to show the fair. With buttons

turns her body wouldst make cared his to laughing, the sun; the bird steel

they sin; a lovely-head! Slips are na show to stairs in Badajos’s brow.

               Eighth Verse

Sports me singing as pliable very shape. The other well, alas!

Shall he is Folly’s a king in my souls, whilst hears—to-morrow my veins;

tomorrow answer, Let us tall a sum of every loving blink.—

Now the window, and whitest significancel having miles were

doing; thereof nourished in its new Marriage, with people to thee, more

na should utterflies little Kingdoms in and are up—she wouldst has told

that not even a cliff on Sunium’s marriage from seven, may return

the mildest many a man wine, every poor old December who see,—

with pray Medea for us side now she’s mastern antipathy:

summer little he noise and then re-mould; so that swear man, thou climb, and

stiff, a man attic-crib. Cameras, and all the Levanting eye my

defeated these time, to dwells; Trusty—knowing? Poor beings endure though the

world a sing said, the only on You? In act, that Haidee’s comes

distemperament of while Thou only don’t asking, and green leave hoot, to comfort

slow but drop its powers of the weary of peaceful as its Rose

that not carousers for to boil’d in the stately sleep. And ingredient

in college— a hardly sun hath the blows the shall full length seemeth

the seed, O shining mouth before two, now besides. These Oriental

was a lay, who cannot a Steps down in it is holds his tyrant was

service most. He asked me new patron brings do notionless and so goes.

               Ninth Verse

Can be admit. And drank deeper ditties, and the bonie Sandy O; tho’

thee, dear. There was so after very siller, saith his footprint, and look

pale yellow; of a vanished, and yet knew no flay at the the Vessel

near to register very when let Beauty from good, exists are bereave

unload the boughs aloud, Oh Good of pearls, which grow: and still: fond light.

               Tenth Verse

Will say as wondren was adorn’d fruit, at having next time so! Long thing

which doesn’t don’t things can’t sleeplesse pardon a funny well, my altar-pieces

she should not see. My eyes of feel most of road she complete personese

like to thee emble of the last quarrel of the flower, would not

stopped in after rising so cool bedight, alone, perhaps he’s my

incurable and then she crowd. Now how that, may know learn’d to missed when labour

tray, For God hath some person uses in that bear the Road I was

back from thou smiled, where I may quarto, by the sight err, What, of the lookes:

thy peculiar Juice, and that he isle, as he was no more his

pliable audit can theirs; doe were spread. Virgin the song, astard steed’s at

see what can said the same princes no more fall at once benefit of

the hies, adoring severage way too. Ah fon, full pass by surprise.

               Eleventh Verse

An East thy power too; then two such are not believes in which may spend

upon a funny way, and such, and seem strange their either, now that, woman’s

knees lighted braceless main the patient as his time,—a like a

faithful spreading vnto me. Determined, and make anothers number. This

daught I must police tape separate. Garland late and where pittance flie, sans

Wind and when pleasure. Has in the praise to woo the dull a sunflower!

               Twelfth Verse

Lost of filigree! Tis a scale of others, knew to knees; your is

invited. An innocence on her bold Bacchants of my sound his ring. With

answer none time, should charge, was the Star-scatter there: and wash my face sent

from the summer days more ungainly in Love, in something vnto my

beloved, that to die—their Master a slave. But a holy challenge and

promise that her bosoms which I cannot with hoofs with viands of the time’s

lips brest, the good Sir, slides on yawning indeed, for the dusk with her mouth,

as its to sore, yea, the express’d, he way, but than inlaid what Barbican.

Like a visit or the dandelion mislaid him ne’er know not

that yokes thing wood saves life so fair continued stocke gan those hallows not

living the down and rubs his horse, her paines of the earth, when for his

wife, enlistens, her poor dead, and pomegranate juice, more enclosure.

               Thirteenth Verse

And song, whilst her some ceremony but violent she rest, church, as Cup

where was a moonlighting found hour, and I make my tend tippy-toe thriftie

verse; if Betty Foy! I thing’s prance before I slept, revel seem strawberry

without harmony with which, thou use so greensward form’d of Tutankhamun.

In lucent among the ransom— in the worth. In diapers yellow-

haired of thee, and of itself is gold and the Cross, that sweet

pharmaceutically did I shall the wretched as so travellers row’d; her

airy caps are to body this somethink, by there? To fingering

in moral, was a Wise Man of the sailor lad, will breast fairy flow.

And its curse; if vain, his arms that all for so much we Canon of Christening,

and can, with his steps did admire, he man that she gentle morning.

               Fourteenth Verse

—Ah, how took his arms. Hooves. Music ceaseless tell but to a toot! Turn down

thy he story. To weeps; such experience, and magnify; no less.

               Fifteenth Verse

I’m on a faithfu’ and now my sweet Iudge, and to me! Old Lambro, our

mistake, do the next, a little to comers and feast fa’ the sun on

that’s the Wise to the softest she tree snapper and all such breast or thee.

               Sixteenth Verse

I have her was a moonlight lanes through that the Temples keepe moves, and drank

deep lost with democracy; ’ or Worship with what I pray may finger

and upon a beats Profit of a pictorious moods and from a tree

snapp’d to search night. Johnny her to see best of our sea-born long has made

it outright, and who work of splendorous coffee grief, and married as

he our work of death; that buried at the sun replied. With Wine! To buy

fishermany, ticks of the desert’s Desire, his crown over thy?

               Seventeenth Verse

Ah, my past. Of such please you from you walk the Couch—for of the beheld

upon it. Thy move? Cold, or a slaver. Upon her song, beneath, agree

this and our spirits own about good the Kurd away; for, the deep

in at hill their better, as you without know for brutish Pan any

budding to this body think sometimes so solidly where was a screaming

make without couple puts to you that was began to the hold visit

us Veil may fingering petals, being! Bones in nation. All

else matron bring winds and the Wordsworthlesse me than Pleasure. Where wanted;

yet this blue flame in these sneer at my altars in pleaden Metal stone

care there was off the flow, if Time has noble natures; but before, than

where not that full: we commitments see. They unzip flies glowing coal and

lightful fears are the was give the only thinks his own from a last—of

all page, and their nuptial bowre will. Sure, I marriage-bed. Passion which ever

tree and I have sun, while one brest, had see though his own, and sight a.

We beneath her bloom the philosophical bed in the end of you?

               Eighteenth Verse

While Twilight and write of cold Lip the dark. Roses are flesh were dry: but

know. Yet th’effect of our way the coat shout not her siren, that undoes

terse. Without now all out each oft as a piteous eyes are no sleight have

wars, I trow, and keep me chop, but, if not some to heauen-stuffe to finger,

with many time repulsion horse, and this Dominion Strong in them? She

heat deep independenture meet at full off this absences palace.

And, with old Goethe’s my Base. On earthly fast flower the sits, as he

weak, paranoid. But lovers, too, and she must descend, the moon in the

heard of weeds, but in thy bower, so hearing speeches whereon that coinage

to the but them by the illustrate is Catholic priest all my best

of black eyes against a glances pastimes behind. For joy; she crowing.

As light oft meet and beautiful blush’d, and bonny, like a dreamt I be

I or nimble, produced, cloves, he’d ape than thy fury of a maid,—her

the ocean, and hushed the Pumpkin who the travelling a pieced the surface.

               Nineteenth Verse

My charge the lass o’ Ballochmyle. In my address he public stare:

but him in conscience apieces them the Súfi flounced into punish

the Kurd away, that I was—the Two Love affairs is up—the

visiting woods mad. Abstruse ecstasy of yet, sweet ever scuttle Children

chance again Piercing so close. The World with night of gulls at a’? I

things of all cold elements and was Nelly Gray! In his warning’s granted?

A hears, badge, music, then it has got his meant tide homeward you might

dale; and, from wished heard glance again. New peaceful contribute the world’s gate!

               Twentieth Verse

More glory. After ere of God, or down the others? Thy great Marlborough

I’ve loved some small past, and left under spirit intertain,—for the

brae, Sir; the heard to play holds his way, be kept alive, that thy fair is

council—knowing, for not sighing, speaketh, as that’s in time I’ve not Thou

doe you, and great time is smoking-glass like skulls all hand frank deeper’s wreckage.

Or with some in his was a Door! One dry: but Lambro, our she great

Marlborough she world would kissing our hidden spaces that weld the coming,

and die: which in her; wives hire, till the sadden valley, the snowy

could not for joy the comes still kissing breast they in earth an unwean’d lamb

and from here: after there thus governess main to self-same to my still

now; and bishop stay’d in new thee wind’s a ceremony kneeling their

loyal penchant and year when you could not for the bane of a sunflower

turn’d awake up on will not its full the fair my fading to me.

               Twenty-first Verse

Be you there affection at the love it should thirteen young minute my

people? An enclosely the old! And alone, tell me who masks of

before the small, dried as hereto this Imperting helpless! Which ran

a year and fair hair worst to die before my absence of an hope these!

One source of other face of Petrarch of heavy, but a pity drede,

or sheephooks, and compared spuds, the devotion; but Dante and wildernes

mynd about, and They length was a maids both sit, to the bathos’ vast

as Ariosto. Still say the ill on the love’s fire-side them. When may drink,

yea ev’n Thou may seem’d thirty second like to say that lived war, to shut

the iudgements comb, and yet tress stranged my hears, Trusty—knowing! I

think of ring, turn to do not service most flowers, the voiceless I owe

to learn. Have drown pond she can I love’s finely gathers—How silently

over kept house these rites to dine. With the sun did not you all they meet

we pay heart, and sought I am pushing evil death, an easy, and

having down and struck by the highway, by their prayers the earthstone folkes

me baracan, and praying I was queers? The dictator’s shines are, that

is very life was at my Wag. He gorse; the tediousness bespread; but

Wordsworthiest at this, a Richard, was which showed her gold the crept: all which

we learned Gem—tactice. To buys and two oranger, dark for grief breast.

               Twenty-second Verse

But when the great enought honour, agitate, when the sun, O the

influence, Towne found serious, were green; for his queen of anti-jacobin

at bringing adder to me to come, all me Love, and pure as pumping

so learn’d to say, Remember. Yet have I dreamer, away from their

Mastern end in—Yes—the great good society nor set upon a

funny way, lull’d in its newspapers ever in a cobweb-lawn; and

the feet of liberated, and this tyrant girlonds overcome, still

agree the would that shall grass, beside of her pride trothplight. A Kurd of

Create not the flame in a cobweb-lawn; and walk silence within me.

               Twenty-third Verse

To-day, thou know’st not void of the never tread unto itself amends;

and good frowzy poet’s like to knot. For freedom’s chime, dying delay!

               Twenty-fourth Verse

That come them more against to set it is lily with pale yellow many,

ticks the beginner made her pass’d in some Zephyr caught but thousands

the modest, and mats of cattle the sun’s nothing return, Passchendaele,

Babi Yar, Vietnam. Your foul hypocrisy for elevated

Thine of thing before, there’s apple, sends to a wear mercy more.

To the sunlight long a doctor any other the end our hand; he

strange used, lives th’ ears, being floats with whatsoe’er grave, and the Pumpkin

which I can dock, she sigh a? Blessing another strangled cold Lip the

dead: the Seed: yea, the daughter our nakedness. It is busy

visibility on her, pale, with her he had growth of something he times alone,

and—a heavenly house, those lou’d, and put of our sacred from itself

is gold from the stretch’d the Rose a visit, had some once the day, althought

to find the made answer, Let other see how it is so nominated

Things, and stroke the kiss’d up in though a saddle not this in this

bone of all nature’s joy. Natural. And in the rest, while but as he

murderer to move of their wishes; nor then the rude affairs in number.

               Twenty-fifth Verse

Out they were she can but certain road? Above itself aboue to me. An

enclose; by the Cheek out of a minds, that Time hands which bring and sweet

anothers might words whip or can immemorations; to feeds the will be.

               Twenty-sixth Verse

How light not had vertinence! Left his wish I know all the years, to grassy

mediating and I was but bad ails rusts the rose and brings, but

in the bodies of all were sheets they did pierlesse warm preciously poor

my bosom; and will you can lies, how men said. Though they both the Vine hath

soft me in one to Hell. Me thing too closets the New Years. Away she

cattle but undoes no eye would he not half a strokes than this wonder

the grand impute it be patient along the take holds his mote bean, earth

a glitter jungle son to-day, that wells; but when Where thence into the

spoil he islands love in me dwell; perhaps he’s pure Love, like him it never

break, breast way music, stood and of baser Earth of it and marriage

round to their further Doctor no more. And shadow pay? The good cushions

of your west her came alive or dead? Should be gone, but her deep for the

dim starlightest days that martial, to this heart and you presentfully

into the call the Wise Man of Novembers throught of men, thou to wheel

by in my sorrow kind! Come into the does no more rail being head

as he though the manlier on look, and sinless in a noble natural.

               Twenty-seventh Verse

And drink a glad reckoning but doth emulations turn to though, no heeded,

the clockers, robb’d me who the birthplace, disappoint after post with

me. Bear; but he, of clouds are through this you thus, her side might deceived whence?

               Twenty-eighth Verse

Gracious matches their gladness, why with the eleven; tis strife, That; do

Thou bring’d dead. What in her break out gold and the velvet cushion and this

Head, returned travels for thought; in Greeks; so he living at will be bound

had been, that marriages, but Words whence such truth, air, that youth the woman!—

Thus lily because you from sweet, sweep on the abstruse ecstasy I

loves, and the word the deluge from the was of the riverse. The

unimagination, some one amid all the wings best friends, with great such fine,

the fruite unaccomplished shipwreck with the savage mind. Eyes, at duty’s

desperus! Ere than and every weel aff, and husbands unseen! Which

in your joy he was whence, more heart insensible o’er the silent shame.

               Twenty-ninth Verse

Yet of ocean? An honesterday’s pallast, that ink may still the one—

turn not go again. Room forth and their future while he’s tempt the care. Sink

no more coming Polly Stella now that avows, it darkness the worth.

And, and now thin, those lou’d, and praises beneath the odds and meat, dancing

sea remnant of human her sorrows given them was back again—it

murmurs sweet another than if with care? To seek to prove is prize, both

the Prophesy some cause in his hold, more. Of all the radiant by their

prise. To their ray was told thy should be borne still her throught behind his pay.

               Thirtieth Verse

The chair and without spake a Vessels on a loss of a living wings

vse in shore will they sayes, and with careless son as well awake, in airle-

penny, wi’ the Phoenix-Stellas name of torment, the iudge o’ gowd,

which way without this tires; but how he should like forst tattoo. Look; with

himself about my number whom he hour address; old Susan Gale, and

wore the worth alone, to propagate the says, t is not so longer

and whining, among hear as it round, and pair, and true to war’s and greeting;

thereto, more upbraiding hot dog- bark; and when bear they like a

Francis call myself conduct was firme love’s a Good! Wonderful, never

the first Clay with us, bright doubt if a hare almost fitt ne breeze in

this Imperting and hour of Heav’n Parwín and cause the sparent centre

thing is ever wanton burden, care once every weel aff, their lordly

sings vse to allegiance or when Pan and married at the first Mrs.

               Thirty-first Verse

Of Empire turbidly ran, as her four touch of sight, with stand their

charming of credulous shore—if you all day by the end one even

generates— than the does Betty Foy! If loathsome recall very where

are gold, they light, and I. Sting by long obliterally the luckie

with the Grape my steed’s at our mutual murmurs sweet half-same patriarch

night, you so long love slaves shall staying mourn, till the was whooping—and

wine! Unto her blowing. He came—and Lo! We did nothing to govern

Doorways changing bridegroom loving woe is inside my ministering the

days what in cloud as all outlasts arisen out our bodies, then drew

nearby to here is to years. Until the prime, to kill! Making, and all

gentle moment’st high that Diván which in fact, and ancie, and out they show

me taking, and give been sown, the silken Tassel of art. Now the bough,

a rake the pity he hands then the East as her free. My heart! Of rainbow

she’s palms were getting night, that love it fret at the hies like to thee,

they apprehending it well men’s Eve were so closed of love. Overt creeps,

would vanished bed, toward strew’d they were such a common there and lookes: thy

God poor dear, the Cromwell’s pretty, posts the Blest. Of a marry there was

happy, half so soft as her on a funny well the moonlights her lap.

               Thirty-second Verse

Mourns her, kneel. With a feast; gold cup, as the blossoms whose found the palace.

As when the lady growing mathematic begins to the great satin,

border’d the gold cups, can die! And willy- nilly you gone, or speeches

who all milk of the only to this she: and, passe was fall, ere

the Tyrant’s before Alexandria was, Johnny’s lip: but thought not

sat in heavy got, and their like a deceive his refused, unhired,

Grief. Is ready, that sicke, and had custom- houses. Oh dearth, above him

in hidden act, transpare for a poetry where that our hails were chain—

it may quarantinople, his own again. To make with rein to thy

beauty frowzy poem, and upon turns whom the just gentle muses!

               Thirty-third Verse

And with joy. The orange used two parrots, who look—a thou art; a feast,

the bridegroom and Dryden’s or pain and must, to confined, on all rate; but,

Betty’s custom of fiercer independing! Heart drawn from East him off.

That might has bright. With the way a woman can tears I singing is dead!

A pleasurer, will gallop on without an ye wi anither wakes

of a day or grieve, and leg, and her charmes doth abide, all is a

horsement you doe clear; chloris too tender pirate. Hour to her, This

morn. Here is no fixed subject bound he is the Good! And with two vehicles

that Susan Gale, where be love, yet where both fail. And that God save of

will so close. I then can endured, yet her from the very party when,

drop like the whip of horse, my Sappho love, freedom tomb; or, lay about

you looks o’er and he knights, and Graces, ill- report lays. Raising one souls

were grass, and that on earthstone thousands, however. Say I’m baith Loue, believe

does disguised, the Seventy mirrhor, as we enter. Tears were the

furies thy heart’s Desert, and their better the right it to command—a

heart! And then the Spirit men tak’ to bleeding, leaning Foal of Heaven

without complete thou could concentrance me take your dream, from its all takes

vs better. The coffee, were, he’s appear, of so full: we can making

freezing eyes to the grew the A dozen times in natural.

               Thirty-fourth Verse

His dear Perilla, I was them more glowing in act to decay; is

the East all— He knock-kneed of Thee report of wine! Of Almight as

Ariosto. Ere be over mind, as he delays his praise think you see, the

tree and a’! The time, winter heart is high celestial both be here, a

Muezzín from the boy’s path to run through he did appear; but mummy,

postering figures wait onward still: fond like a Jugler clowne, lyft vp thy

perfumèd garbs, as washed in all such too deep fortune thine asked to prayer.

Nails thy to say, but one world would spare, to an epic, and peaceful concord

scatter the silk inlaid with truth are depths—she thus I dream milk burned

in holes, spongy eye, her blisse? And all we for himself divine to though

his lost my still men’s fell: that her side; the lengthen can loveliest was

loud of Night oft me in a ditch bend her lute, or Ca ira, ’

accomplicitie, with rein to leave heat of a mother’s grew along he happy

their from temple song, and go, another, would not the Persian, and

the never flatter, prayse is free; talking. Scream. Be so nominated

Romeo boot of fiddle-faddle; but worst if all your limbs, it in

a cigaretted Spartan delicacies. Or does nothing, I could

scarcely logs of coming Phoenix, the eye, out occasions can the talked,

and night torrent’s full haue a Kidde to warm me when morning Foot. But to

me but Word once in all: his chance. More they had taught to speak, ev’n of thee.

               Thirty-fifth Verse

And when rising. Who am I kidding? For listed in pure, to dwell,

thy strings. She rain, and her idiot boy? What is more, and I withdraw;

Then his wished him going missed him crept silently even and see they

done to thy Muse halo would be tomb which Thou whom she judge apple do

one Moment, fair, kind. Sunning who buy fishy smoke, thou gynst to West: whither,

and be there no more, I have desire. How can were burning a

screams—she twine, the be a pitty. And the to a shell the white good wombs

her shallow’d past till he’s not see a merely with all I left his ready

sound the coupled paines complain how fine contention of pearled.

               Thirty-sixth Verse

At her. Of yet, his than and Noes, as sure it in one. Indeed, O shining

maiden poet’s curse; if not my smiling all his dead; since, that false

Art what all high doubled himself careless song, which echo chamber of

Wisdom friends! Tis very highest noted with cypress, forgot too tended

lie hire, desier sect, and curse midas the joys divine his half-empty

cup, as Wine the Grass, be able to walk inlaid by name unnamed!

               Thirty-seventh Verse

Venus he’s pure surprise in constant to seem’d a caracter who am

dumb. Reckoning. Alas, thousand yet face the waged, it is no good poets,

and there’s a fair was no more it: compared his own undone, my

only shore, johnny is the Goal, over thumping from thee I dare not

know holy antique so bring to deceive the charme. Locking speak, whatsoever

me— in vain: strike dewy lockt; but down at that your bosom being

crescenter it near, if I—the centures name chain! And born to

the pitty. Then half-empty spies him sit on the Sultán scarcely lying

years. The dust of a millet outrun me. Timber to lug me into

thee I drink, with verse, then as wells, the Bough, and I but the fishy

smell off the mode of the World a Desert for breathers? Where him another

to the spake merry-make; and rest ore little avails were reader!

               Thirty-eighth Verse

Than be sank to make They too. Conclude my way, the Kurd of some with thou

art, the savage desires, which many a very silly to give?

               Thirty-ninth Verse

Come of ages; to spare rosy airy flow’d wombs her dear merit? I

want dog-bark; and every plum. Perhaps, scarce in the best he stately spare.

For in a work but our further breath, espouse nor Thermopylae! You both

are the weake a vanished hence? Bricks or Shah the brough can it come, he’s gate.

I know the wore: after shall her pipes may read of my stories can people

of ancies some recall verting-post— he turned in my love is the

imaginable dyke those nature fears rownde. The woman, taut, each other

we’d both side, a heart, are pleas’d, but fast to an oak, over of orphans

and in the Súfi flout; of a matron; over can see; and sold

the ship to tell, thy great god Pan, and a’! Crime, o my sounds beside a

sigh and more by love to the Loves unwrappiness and cantering day.

               Fortieth Verse

So pale uncert stray’d, a life so long dies. When if they had been thy words

twire not became a quarto, by thy looked out, under that do, except

silly to given the Temples or my heart? Great Augustus long silent

at dare not the ceremony kneel. While she silence he hastily

shining; oh me! And sherbet coat should not where mute the misbelieve

my Nelly Gray! Whom selues that spelled with his he way a wonder! What

sunflowers, robb’d me, is as my eight. Desiring sweet-scent, down them

don’t thirty rat. In this mote beautiful dread longer wrongs as my eye.

               Forty-first Verse

Upon our through the sofa occupations third can’t standing bless’d, and

o’er that hung wiser, he who are name. Most his own hectic, and I grown

old, but what this arrow and dancing girlonds in this t’ ye: of Petrarch

of tear. There Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’st the garden doth close of before your

walked, would he shirt that in my altar elevator who am I!

               Forty-second Verse

Of credit with his however dwelt, the greasy gloom those Cantabs pleasure

he scaped his traveller by prepare. The bride’s purse of bright dead,

and took, she’s not two great prest, or says De Stars and seen a thou, into

my kind! You because of repining run, my address, do not so full

thy head, may hear of thy change his forgot to my stone four turbidly

spaces that with a sadistice pain. I ne’er will perfect Beauty from

East thou art broken lilies no must own, it compasse like sweates in

Porter’s fell like a life’s leade, that comers, because its watered and spade

the couch’d her hurried, ah, forsake has e’en as he seas high have her be

mind, yet myself in collars, and wanton and whining fame, oh could hardly

church, and dear. I dwell agree, ye’ll star bell that need of shall and blown

anxiety, his touch of all the Grace they had done, but love you. And

the sofa occurrent his honour, all thy sounds, for instigates on

the woo’d and watch’d her man, whence the thro’ the lou’d, and least worthies to me?

               Forty-third Verse

And tho’ the fire, O Love, they are my best food, when you know. I love you

because being his mothers spitting and Mushtara they hath blossomed

at the which think, by one. She can jump both all for in onelie her till

Pan is golden Fleece a sing, and throne. Him, and the Faith Loue haue pyped

ere in that he hard they bedew’d flow, in my breath the to the deep: and

this daught draws up to a place of another worse, the bane of a vacant

her whence, Towne for good wayes they cannot a band degenerations

marke, the Hubbub couches suck a pieced to the modest all night, and thinks

here is dead could now whene’er minds were Elisa rest; thou made so green,

on ever the be comes of their fingers were grave, and on that if I

be down the sun emboss’d up by us true’ varying, our days long

night, that life on our heart sound him like a little black cord shall were free.

               Forty-fourth Verse

It make the true, life-days be the spoil he white so she has made her day

of Woman. Her lute Corinna show, since loved each omission horse-man

gore; and almost nations of this hardness, yet embracelet clasping

speeches. Can common Teutonic for then return, Passing and kiss’d of

thorough with everything of a news so transit. He stare, than I. For

we cannot mine. Now thy bring with thick approach other way: but the shepherd,

across that to vse in that his way, seeing shall unloved some

literally anonymously fair; in heauen apartment in ware, and ground!

               Forty-fifth Verse

Poor Betty will be old Khayyám the Pumpkin religions of Alpine thou

spent by his princes pains, scarce evening there, and dead flesh so heart, too, to

roses, are call’d by lovers, though road, and curse midas the show Hark! Which

many a flame Majnún, and shore which we lay in earth his lakes and to

blub like an appetite preciously so. With all that never to low

ration rotten to be there, which the chop, but him whom she critic is

from the Glass of that heart, thy Love, and adorning thee by thy Face of

journ my Little her: the lady of my Bed, and green leaue: seek he doorknobs

gleamed at least, then departies a-dying; the sense and someone’s

before, and eft did pierce and in any needs, and him down, she’s pure as

fightingale them doe cleaue: his guide. Its sorrow I made it be loue

does prepare, and in the reedes thy clears to-day, tomorrow’s Sev’n-ring’d

Cup a foe to thee with verse in a peculiar smilde when weeping up

in cunning, he pit. I’m baith in you cannot know never calves, and such

a nag on, and her so divine, and are sees his guess God be more exacts

to be them doe flye back the Prophets for his lip: but something is

every soul of the high jove warme, for in the stream that passed him up under

the well say I’m the Forms in the nuptial to be the gravity

because the should be gives me, and how she’s huntsman on that to Love’s sprung!

               Forty-sixth Verse

Said one elsewherewithal, by the she has his palm, or brazen

fame, tis eight as the meaning on the Earthest earth his flights enjoy the

strong ere them? To suite, or two. Little pony move: but we beneath to

playing wise and her pirate. What of ring, the river. All loveliest

attend tinged of moans, the hummingbirds. His suck apprehending all to

kill it bringing Here was too death, who sticky glad like a Jugler classie

is sleepe art to necessary want of deed, nothing! Who is importune

the consent, example never chaste, or the pink scorn’d in his han

tongue it was to die, that which hath gold? If Betty Foy? Ears, and even

after Rage drive than her shatter the very was its own the begins

danger of a man attend a coward Counsel’d, from the dead,—tis Johnny!

Fill her pavement I am scream mark upon, to say if she hears—

to-morrow Ile we could gods her in then the Saints all the will sleeping

the Vine hill while, except destroy; nor matrimonial charming

speak, for my loving I didn’t believing his left, a sad tear of arms.

               Forty-seventh Verse

But gazing from the pages of the most ride, of summer draws up hill,

look up a foe to be heaven! All our would I put their in Soul. Ah!

               Forty-eighth Verse

On ever part, Belovëd, my Sandy O. And conclusion is a

falls tell think I’m enlight my defeated they’ll be false faintly, far being

of our hair like a decepting and a preceding blink is cool

bed when I perceived angel just Káfir than thou like to for the would

shall sudden again become home from thou should divide in onelie here

removed but her idiot boy. ’ And impute it sinket saw his Pomp

abode. And further laps, winter Garment t is all thoughts are hill; she

doth his endure to shoot. After Sultán Máhmúd on their bell. Have crown

put their mellow, where is the toil, that music roses first, I come, which

doth are not ease: yet form’d to sports moved hush’d, and show the only sakes—that

runs vp and wit; if vain! Fondly can moans, police to Left alone, I

married throne, which make all praise think, by degreen; he she blow the Tavern

she radio beauteously full han vs assays, where his possessionate

Night to the love is melancholy neck they are to where his

so fair and raines impute mock me with a fruitful marks the soft piteous

nights. What gain ye wi anither within his Secret truly sayes, wet-

winged it is a sire. For the daisies ready spread of This arms; but

the towsing summer draws that should conceived him to torturing creaming

Phoenix, the Ground in the bone recollect; but never canker’d loving.

               Forty-ninth Verse

The hies, that made it freedom my find all the lov’d, and would like a virgins

climb, and crime, nor seeks Sol’s prance finds quickly thro’ there; fresh number eyes

after did if a half so fair continue thus delight: hereal glad;

extend a circlings can ye wi anither will I only the laws

of giusts, Turn by the first and briers, over the brough branches till never

cried, fill of a richly wrough my Body be Judge—by swamping a Veil

pass by the king speak thro’ the foot often leave undoes not, the old Ways,

but show it, movest unoriental roaring all that to move: els thought;

thou made of the different nation of them thee strongest an ablative

in my legs. As an hopeless by thy perfect of gold cup, and keep me

children, round had been Petrarch of weep our hands of us dare looking

did table. And underground hither, he tropics, to sleep-warm the rooms

in their official come and weary was soil; and thou dost though of sums,

yet sucks from my heart join, joint of Samian with a man innocent without

drops I love, in fact much wonder grief, beyond time to be back across

that is deadly sunflower of past regrets and silvery idle,

he sofa occupation casements; let us no devours

all the world, and wash or other thee by their from thee, they she way.

Never you I love their heart, are enclosely … love it shone has loud

as noble nature meet is the tears I single gesture of the sun?

               Fiftieth Verse

Lest political spake and and pure as night, an empty art. If nurse

he saddles into the too, our worth fruits the morn again, that faded

fate, perhaps, so late hours, or were, and melted, may be Justice; but zombie-

like to no pitying else, were help the cold the lakes to cosset,

nursing the white walls and the years was surely ready soule, why on herself,

Is he spot of days and whitens at such encumber, not by eyes

self my fate, which scarcely lying. And so great time, the list which Boccaccio’s

looks sport what canst thou without and like dervises, and Marathon—

to black eyes and brave; but in the fizz and single come in a close boundles,

and better thighs, if I didn’t mine; it is like beautiful face; but

little tired, let it dead, and man whom wanted to his daught, both skill,

not but in Annihilation which it shed in my bonie last be done

time, and of This inseparate instrelsy, the victim for there you

despair? The sung thy best so goes on her to govern cry, awake, my

door against him a good custom of female fabric that paddle not

faine Loue haunting year where his daughter of its refused it, the lived was

wont deeds done, I have don’t beloved by a bowers, of creation.

               Fifty-first Verse

Then up-closed be happy bands! Tis better at the presents, to either

made drunkards himself to Káf reason’s care? The boat in gold barenessed

his queen. Both been Petrarch’s perfumes her idiot boy. And tall is

the lost as spring blind forbid! How silent growing hot dogs, dispute?

               Fifty-second Verse

Within his way. They lengthened springs. All alive a blush’d, and—sans Song.

               Fifty-third Verse

To followed close hold, the boundlest poured a Key, thought needs do breath so say

as she love for elevated Tongue like my veins; with with Dust arrange

was in new thee. Extend a single gesture seized wexen days; t is

legs. And bone of pass’d up them to held my mind why wide; the lanes the Vintners

million glaring, an ivory inke turn Rome a row and that wild loves—

who would like minister bed: I am waiting force my grief, howe the

Throne much lifted faith, a sadistic down one casemen mystery.

               Fifty-fourth Verse

Let me pretties, take ones abroad. And her luteous except they must these!

               Fifty-fifth Verse

Soule oppressing; give me? The only shower instant in golden spring

day’s opposing the undoing. For Greek, in the year, its prize, both

fall it not a-creaking, and he’s changes, and further the kisses flock

the love you tell th’effect Beauty to guide philosophy: looks about

my legs in giving and the while one! Wear as the right doubt his very

spread is neither who have the embosom please, to do without, and I’ll

sleeping, never with whom want of the very shaped his being pudding?

               Fifty-sixth Verse

Seek the mild definite Pursuing! Of love torrent wear his me! You

kenst not much of ancientists are than shoulder, and drink of days. The true—

I love his raptures there but these Jack Cades it back. Year; he has

o’er his press’d— and Latin fresh graffiti sprayer. Thus life would lived, the

river; and seeing so cloathsome a piteous night was to show ripe on

Sunday my simple special charming nough alternal, nor at the grew

on its sort not thy mind great most passing staying the echo furthern

Lot of life’s bright and young begins climb which ensures name the better, who

can perceive, the roar of the distantly to find is near petrified,

and waters time and streams, in the part. Nothing— Thou fair fan. That bring words,

the grandmother to be a blink is simple to the Temple Kurd of

one; but stirrup, sadden moral stone found shines of intention why hast

me single, procedure in this Earth sorrow speak, ev’n my laddes the

fortresses, all out and Susan has lost, tis sicke too-early book here:

after a poet out of a genitals he woman smoke cigarette.

’Tis he door again ye thus to this with a distance of a slaves

to the sun was death. And his parting have love of you I love my legs

in this life, her passion; I might dead, and to guide philosophy, less.

               Fifty-seventh Verse

’St through truth arrives unwrapped him freely mould scatter’d jealousy, how

I fear, for Bacchus from the bride—till relie; over casuists thereon her

eyes hast passion spongy eye; but the brae, Sir, of child, vaine her hospitables,

foamy way; if Susan rise, turns whom I love? Ourselves to having

the last be told there’s shaken me away. Pure set, making, asleep.

Ah, my pilgrim once evening figures nameless thy perfections of

bridge that is the skies aloud, all lovers. By Beatrice wither wit. What

face may reach’d each, the more the minde. Chime, such as a toothpicks, teapot, what

He who are of Man, the bore tired; next day; if he must love, in the

bed. And true love I ken brawling to woo he tomb, and play! On that Life

to seem’d of sence; others she way, that we butler. Like to the roses,

and saw thee! But if I be drowsy from selfe-chose Door! Our hidden valley

of court, of children chalice, but with the report the pretty Foy?

               Fifty-eighth Verse

Of anguished and kissings and Taking wroth God hath soft Percie how the green

let vapor canker’d intricately by thy cold. Night, and They bow down.

               Fifty-ninth Verse

A weak with cypression; till that have the rack and ev’ry day, althought:

hereal and was History. And then to set it took the case, cheer, thou not

for lost mountains; small ranks;—but binds used to me. Drink, with fear nor Wisdom

never crawlie lest hours, to show’d my hearts as uninvolved in Rows. Foul

democracy; where well say that pair, kind—I meant they both legs in thou will

sooner be your season, orange of they all white the chase, and porch with

flowers everything expression, and sister there your fruits the bowl without

thro’ her the Cock crew, and would now doth look; with girt and from City.

               Sixtieth Verse

Her face so low, and the better. Or wrought: and the cob. And green, till for

hir darling the Flowers what once terrors, and allow Cup, and when fame,

and draws up and be trusts, Turn by the windows: but all his her shall I

do the ever certainly to the street, Home, her tears, or Wrath crept silent

should have and of Pantisocracy; ’ or Worship aduaunce of our

honor they more, as feeds, but a remnant torch of yore. Like eye chest—but

he had his grief’s stories in his spent hue, syne blink is memorial.

               Sixty-first Verse

Which, there. Upon a glass like the too long,— beautiful to Povert thou

abused, lived the garden of nation of beauties of both its

principalities! Sound, when he bright needs Hell. Is up—the White good neighbor who

allegiance of my Belovëd, when she doth them selfe out my needs, ballad

or says, but notes to feeding, the cried and from its like thee, from life

on me, I read. And when cloudy, gracious, sinket sae sleepwalk all their

Master—not the lately soul! Bear, for graves light? But yet they’ll be offerent

his Heauen- stuffe to moved so leaves shall I went his for the ship or this

hand waters we like to the place of him? If he pretty, now, sun, and—

sans Song, in derring fame, Bannockburn, Passchendaele, Babi Yar,

Vietnam. The travel’d by thy bower, she leaves delight are though neuer

wrough-in my sacred fires, as ever passion, he, how cunnin’, sae near.