#festival american Burning Man

[peripateticavian]

Seven Circles Alliance

The road into Burning Man festival has been blockaded to bring attention to the climate crisis and how capitalism has changed the the values and message of the festival.

This is the petition to enact change.

[mariacallous]

I’m not even sure whether I can taste pure Old Bay anymore, because the condiment is infused with so many memories of home. I grew up sprinkling it on everything—blue crabs, sure, but also watermelon, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese—and I can shuffle through decades of pictures from family reunions, county fairs, church picnics, and back porches where the iconic yellow, red, and blue tins keep popping up like someone’s second cousin, not quite front and center yet always in the frame.

If you’re new to Old Bay, get a tin and shake the contents liberally on popcorn or potato chips—a starter dish, from which you can and should expand. You’ll soon find that you can add the condiment to almost anything. One of my favorite dishes that uses Old Bay as an essential ingredient comes via an old family friend. Keith Davis is a Jack-of-all-trades: a fantastic general contractor, but also a church usher, a builder of wheelchair ramps, a Santa Claus when seasonally necessary, and, lately, a food-truck entrepreneur, grilling burgers and deep-frying funnel cakes for every community event and private party in the area. He goes by Mr. Keith; his food truck is known as Fat Boy’s Fixins, named in honor of the man who taught him to grill and whose Santa suit he inherited.

Of all the things Davis serves up, he might be best known for his crab soup, which he makes in ten-gallon batches and lets the local Ruritan Club sell by the pint every fall at the Waterfowl Festival, when somewhere between fourteen thousand and twenty thousand people descend on the Eastern Shore to see the work of hundreds of decoy carvers and local artists, listen to waterfowl-calling contests, and watch demonstrations of dock dogs, raptors, and fly-fishing. Davis is there every year, gossiping with his fellow-volunteers, talking with out-of-towners, and tossing hunks of crab meat into stew pots. Normally you’d have to shell out eight dollars for even just a cup, but here, exclusively for newsletter readers, free of charge, is the best crab soup you’ll ever taste, a shockingly easy, practically pre-made recipe for trying out America’s greatest condiment: Old Bay.

Mr. Keith’s Crab Soup

1 lb. crab meat (claw meat best) 64-Oz. bottle of Spicy V8 14.5 Oz. chicken broth 32 Oz. water 1 lb. mixed vegetables 1 Tbsp. Montreal Steak seasoning 1 Tbsp. Old Bay

Mix the V8, chicken broth, and water in a pot. Start heating the mixture, then add the vegetables, then the crab meat, and finally the spices. Cook on medium heat until the vegetables start to soften, stirring occasionally “so it doesn’t stick and burn on the bottom of the pot.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Dieter Bravo's Christmas Special Merry Christmas @schnarfer!

In a shocking revelation... since I just acted like your Secret Santa had a question for you... I'm your Tent Pitchers Secret Santa and I couldn't be more excited to give you your gift! Getting to know you has been one of the best gifts I could get this year. Shout out to @mothandpidgeon for her eyes and ears and her fellow wingedness. Also, this is a sell on The Adventures of Owl, Moth & Mallardy. 🦉🦋🦆 Also big shout out to @devineconjuring for her beta work and support in this insanity where I make her read terribly formatted scripts. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the ornaments! Now, please keep in mind the formatting is a bit wacky because the script format is NOT Tumblr friendly so I had to do screen shots for some scenes. TW: Some drug and alcohol use is in here. This is absolute insanity. I cannot stress this enough. It is Dieter after all.

Dieter takes his mark. The lights are way too bright. Who decided that he needed to be under so many bright fucking lights? 

He holds his mug of hot cocoa—and whiskey—and takes a drink that burns his throat. He swallows the fiery yet smooth liquid down and blinks his big doe eyes at Camera A. The one they put a picture of a scantily clad lady dressed like Santa on so he can remember it’s the main camera. 

Why did he ever agree to do something like this? He remembers the meeting a couple months ago, taking the elevator up to one of the top floors in a boring brutalist-style building smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. His team and the network’s shaking hands and comparing dick sizes and bank accounts as they planned to exploit the American capitalist dream, all in the name of holiday cheer. He was about to tell everyone no and to fuck off—until they dropped that they could get the Muppets. He’s always wanted to meet Kermit–he thinks he would be a positive influence in his life.  

So, Dieter Bravo agreed to do the Christmas special and signed his name on the contract.

Now he’s here in this itchy, hot sweater under these bright lights. 

The festive music fades out into a commercial break. Dieter rushes off stage behind the big, red velvet curtains to his dressing room. 

“How much time do I have?” He asks the stage assistant as he guzzles down a drink of cold water.

“You have to be on stage in seven minutes, Mr. Bravo. Radiohead is doing their cover of Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer, and then you’re doing the animal showcase.

“Right, right. Gotta pee,” Dieter says with a nod as he swings the bathroom door open.

“I’ll just uhh—leave you to it,” the shocked assistant says as Dieter pulls his pants down with zero shame. 

Ugh, he’s so tired. He knows just the thing that will help him. His own snow, glorious little snow that he keeps in a vial in his bag. 

One hit, one deep sniff, one nose tickle, and he’s GOLDEN. Until—

He steps out on stage and sees a gigantic owl. His eyes go wide, his pulse quickening—not just from his magic white powder.

He cautiously walks over to the friendly-enough-looking zookeeper and takes his spot, his big brown eyes darting back and forth from the owl to the exit sign.

“AND WE’RE BACK IN 5-4-3-2…1”

Fuck.

He stares wide-eyed at the camera. 

“Wel—welcome back to my special… it’s special. Guys, holy shit, there’s an owl. That’s a bird of prey. BIRDS. We all know all the birds died in 1986.” 

“Um. You’re wrong about the latter, but as for the former, you’re right. Owls are a bird of prey, very good!” The zookeeper answers. 

“I don’t trust birds, man,” Dieter says, leering at the wide-eyed owl with fear. “They can fly too far and they’re always listening. My mom told me that’s who Santa uses to watch over us during the year to make sure we’re being nice.”

“…okay,” the zookeeper replies, his smile faltering for a moment as he tries to adjust to Dieter's energy. “But owls are actually sagacious creatures. They help maintain the ecosystem by controlling rodent populations.”

Dieter leans closer and squints at the owl, totally cool with all the commotion surrounding it. “Yeah, well, that’s what they want you to think! I bet it’s just some kind of spy. You know? Like a furry little CIA agent with feathers.”

“Okaaaay. Let’s just… get back to how amazing owls can be,” the zookeeper says, trying to regain control of the segment. “This magnificent creature here is named Psyche. She’s a great horned owl and—”

“Great horned owl?” Dieter interrupts, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Does that mean she has horns? I thought only goats had those.” He shoots Psyche a sideways glance, who blinks lazily back at him.

“No horns, just ears that look like horns!” the zookeeper explains, trying hard to remain upbeat while Dieter spirals further into his conspiracy theories. “And Psyche—”

“More like ‘Psyche the Spy’s key,’” Dieter cuts in again. “What is she reporting back? ‘Hey Santa, this guy is weird?’”

“Uhh,” the zookeeper blinks at Dieter, then towards the director. 

Dieter leans into Psyche, feeling braver and braver the longer he’s near her. “What’s in your head, little horned one?”

Psyche moves her head, her large yellow eyes meeting his. 

“WITCH!” Dieter shouts, arms flailing as he runs to hide behind a large tree flocked with white snow, decorated with red and gold baubles and beautiful ornaments depicting animals. 

“CUT TO COMMERCIAL!” The exasperated director harshly whispers into his headset. “And send that zookeeper a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.” 

Dieter watches from next to the director as three of his childhood heroes read from a gilded Night Before Christmas book. Wow, Kermit the Frog is here��and he’s about to join him. 

This is it. Over forty years of fandom, and NOW–NOW–he gets to meet Kermit. His heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest with each step he takes across the stage towards his three heroes. 

Dieter is now only two steps away from the wall. Soon, he’ll be with them, able to hug and touch them. THE FUCKING MUPPETS. He moves to stand behind the wall—but his foot runs into something that lets out a soft oof.

He looks down. There’s an actual human man huddled behind the wall with—with their hand UP KERMIT’S ASS.

“Dude! What the fuck? What!? You sick fuck?! What is happening? GET YOUR HAND OUT OF KERMIT’S BUTT!” He shouts, yanking the puppet off of the man’s hand. 

“CUT!!! CUT CUT CUT SEND TO COMMERCIAL! CUT!” The director yells. “And send that puppeteer a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Kermit, I’ve got you,” Dieter cries into the floppy, green fabric. 

“Dieter,” the director gets his attention. “This was a terrible idea. Please, go get some rest. Prepare your team for the barrage of reporters who will be calling.”

“But, who’s going to finish the show?” Dieter asks, holding Kermit’s body closer to him. 

“We—we called in a replacement. Phoebe! Get out here!”

Phoebe Waller-Bridge walks out in a beautiful red dress, wearing black tights and black boots. Quite Fleabag coded. 

“I’m ready!” She cheerily announces.

“Wow,” Dieter says, enamored by her presence. “Yeah, you’ll be way better than me at this. I’m going to take a nap. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Dieter! Now, send in the hot priests to dance!”

Love you 🦉

[bihanslefttitty]

W.I.P Johnshi NSFW(?.

Summary: They're horny. That's it. I mean, I haven't really finished it.

C/W: They're being a bit wild, there's some blood drawn. Idk.

a/n: Tee-hee. i wrote this draft too long ago and idk. I felt bad leaving it abandoned. It's mostly dirty talking and foreplay tho uwu

His sensual kisses consumed his skin in a way only acid could. Fuck, the way he would growl defiant as he whispered into Kenshi's ear. "I'm going to fucking wreck you." And the challenge posed once again, another Friday night in which they entangled their legs, huffing. Johnny, self-centered as ever, appreciated their power struggle, the thrilling idea of dominating a delicious prospect. The bass chords of the radio hypnotized them, the Argentinian singer's voice an invitation to the perverse festival of sex. //Cada lágrima de hambre el más puro nectar// Each tear of hunger that fell from his eyes was the purest nectar. Kenshi ravished those tears, licking them from Johnny’s face as he writhed beneath him.

"Let's see about that, superstar." He mocked, turning with swift energy as he sat on Johnny's chest in a twisted wrestling match that would only end in submission. Johnny's hand went onto his lover's neck and pressed his thumb on its side, tilting his head appreciatingly. "There's no use for words. Moans are better." //no me sirven las palabras, gemir es mejor// Takahashi scoffed amused, taking away the American's hand and grazing his teeth on it. Johnny's eyes widened in surprise, amused by the ravenous display of passion. The way man was able to break down his defenses and seduce him each time, no matter what the hell was going on in the outside world. The world right now could burn, a hellfire that would only be a far more exciting stimulus. Kenshi was a dionysiac delight. So determined, a delicacy for the touch-starved Hollywood star. The fight on the man was a salacious chain around Johnny's neck. And if possible, he wished for Kenshi to be his undoing.

Kenshi's hands trembled as he reached for his belt and began unbuckling it clumsily, the metallic sound a prelude of what was to come interrupted by the brute force of Johnny's lips crashing with his in a desperation-soaked attempt to seize power, the wish to win this game hanging between their troubled breathing. Johnny Cage hated losing and wouldn't submit to him no matter how much he wished for destruction by his lover's hand. "Eager, aren't we?" Takashi nibbled on the man's lower lip, making the actor instinctively pull back, a cut on his mouth that burned deliciously. Cage's fingertips brushed his lips, noticing the crimson liquid drip down he sneered. As if in a challenge, the man pressed Kenshi down.

"Enough foreplay," Johnny announced with cocky amusement, his lips trailing down Kenshi's warm stomach, his tongue leaving shivers down its wake. Kenshi's hand scrambled for something -anything- to support himself, gripping a lamp that tumbled and ended up shattered into a million pieces. Their wide-eye surprise turns into a moment of laughter.

"You're a mess, Takahashi." The American whispered on his neck, making the man tingle. Kenshi guffawed, the custom of mockery and competition between them a sacred ritual to erotism, so when his pants were tugged down with desperate need, he couldn't help but groan in pleasure. He was hypnotizing. For a moment, he relented with Johnny's desire to command and dominate, his legs wrapping around his hips and pressing until it hurt. Johnny gasped and bit his lower lip as he witnessed Kenshi's smugness over the fact that no matter the position, he had control over him. The ex-yakuza was... too much. "You're too damn beautiful, you know that?" He leaned forward to brush his lips with his, slowly, teasing and burning. "I love you." Cage mumbled quietly, his thumbs tracing the man's cheekbones, and Takahashi sighed, allowing some vulnerability on the dirty display of eros "I love you too, though..."

The intoxicating entanglement prompted Johnny to shift into the man's hips, wet kisses suggesting the affair. Kenshi swallowed anxiously, the expectation making him shift positions and turn, making them once again struggle for control, Johnny's laughter and offended expression keeping the stakes high. Finally, the Japanese man earned himself the victory, and they melted from the couch to the floor. The American's face touched the cold tiles, wincing. Kenshi settled on his back, tugging on his lover's head. "Nice words won't get you anywhere, Cage."

"Ah, fuck" Johnny whimpered, although battling with vulnerability. No, not him. Johnny was a winner. The grip on his scalp tightened, and it was enough to make him yelp and wince. Oh, how his lover handled him roughly, the erect aroma of a man trying to get his.

Shit.

It was just what he needed, his strong hands wrapped around his waist until Kenshi's deft fingers decided a change of pace would be ideal. So, almost like reading Johnny's mind, his index brushed on the American's lower lip.

"Suck." Johnny obeyed, his tongue savoring every touch. Oh my god, the taste of Kenshi was as intoxicating as their mangled chaos. Kenshi's masturbatory pelvic movements, brushing relentlessly against Johnny's ass were a provocation, a way of saying. "What are you gonna do about it?" Challenging him to try and one-up him in their battle of strength.

His lover. How he lusted for his gorgeous athletic body. It was simply something to admire.

Something to destroy in that masculine, sweaty, passionate wrestling match. Fuck.

Already impatient, Takahashi removed his fingers swiftly and then patted Johnny's left cheek 'Good job' style, which made the younger man scoff. His cologne made him dizzy, mixed with sex, saliva, and violence. They were marked by their circumstances, with battles, bonded by experiences. What else could an ex-alcoholic, the fall from grace star with the recently redeemed man looking for freedom for someone more than himself other than to lose themselves in whatever base desire that got them returning each week to this position?

"Agh-" Johnny huffed and laughed at Kenshi, who hissed and spanked his ass into attention.

"You're a trooper." Kenshi mentioned.

"Sir, Yes sir." Johnny chuckled, saluting momentarily.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 48: Vulnerable

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

(Warning: mention of nudity)

The next day brings more clouds and a chilly cold snap. I will say it’s interesting to see the neighboring families celebrate their Boxing Day traditions through the window. The Shelbys must not do so much, either that or their festivities have been canceled due to John’s untimely death. And to top it off, Liam graces me with another phone call. This time with bad news from our side of the pond.

“Oh my God.”

Thomas, having just woken up, pokes his head out of his room. “What is it?”

One thing my eyes have to notice is his bare neck. Is he completely bare? Do not stare. Do not stare. There are far more important matters at hand.

“I just got off the phone with my broer Liam. There’s been an attack at home. You’ve heard of the White Hand? The gang Uncle Colon’s involved with?”

“Yeah.”

“The story goes that Wild Bill Lovett, their leader, was replaced by his brother-in-law Richard ‘Peg Leg’ Lonergan. After he took over, the gang’s become a shell of what it used to be. Far less organized.” Thomas gets the point so I stop rambling. “Anyways, back in Brooklyn there’s a popular joint called the Adonis Social Club. Last night Peg Leg showed up drunk and the Italians didn’t take it well. There was a gunfight. Now they’ve taken the waterfront.”

If this keeps up, Uncle Colon won’t be able to use Brooklyn's hidden trading port. Which means vader will have to import liquor from someplace in Canada where alcohol is legal.

However, Thomas’ first question is not about business. “Did you know anyone who was killed?”

I have to replay his words again and nod. “Joseph Howard. Or as he was known, ‘Ragtime Joe Howard.’ My family didn’t mind if I hung around the Italian neighborhood as long as there were no mafia members around. Joseph and I were friends as kids but he wanted more of the mob life.”

Thomas wants to come closer but is still indecent to do so. His head vanishes for a split second and he returns with a bathrobe draping his toned frame. Moeder would be furious if she were to know I was this close to an improperly dressed man. But my mind looks beyond the giddy thoughts of a teenager and instead stresses further about my family back home.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Thomas says softly. There is far too much death in this life.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from bursting into anxious tears. “‘S not just that. Capone has always hated the Irish mob. Even though we’re not officially part of it, my family is still at risk. When he sees my connection to your vendetta, my family is going to have a hit put on them. Every one of us.”

Thomas grabs my clenched hands and waits until I look up with teary eyes to speak.

“If I could I’d send people to go protect them. I know you want to be with them, Verena. If I were you I’d want to be with my family too. But it’s still too dangerous. Like you said, the mafia will notice you’re involved with our family. It’s safer for everyone if we all stick together. If Changretta ever makes contact I swear I will speak to him about your family.”

My eyes widen. “That could make things worse! If they know you value my family then they might do the same thing they plan to do to yours.”

Thomas lets out a sharp sigh. “Let’s just worry about one thing at a time, love. The meeting’s in half an hour, maybe our questions can be solved through that. Just be patient with me, eh?”

I swallow heavily and nod to show I understand. Thomas nods in return, slowly releases my hands, and walks back to his room. No words can describe how conflicted I am. I came here to mend bridges and instead this vendetta keeps burning them. As much as part of me wants to help Thomas and be with the others while they mourn John, I cannot ignore the calling of my own family. Liam sounded so worried. No, my life is not worth all of theirs. But if being tied to the Shelbys is going to pin them to a death threat then how am I supposed to bargain my life?

“Veena!” Charlie sprints into the hall. “Can we hide and seek again?”

I hastily wipe away my unshed tears and force a smile. “I thought you’d have figured out all the hiding places by now, Charlie.”

“No! I’ve still got ideas.”

I follow him to the parlor and take a seat on the sofa. “Alright, then. I’ll start counting.”

Charlie shakes his head. “That’s okay. You can hide first. One. Two. Three…”

Oh! He’s not giving me a head start. I dash out of the room and start to rack my brain for a place to hide. Unlike Charlie I do not have the advantage of being able to squeeze into such small spaces. My best places have been on high shelves and underneath folded bedding in closets. 

I carefully tiptoe to Thomas’ room. Is he still in the bathroom? Would he mind if I popped in to hide? Surely Charlie will discover me here in a matter of minutes so there shouldn’t be any harm. 

“Here I come!”

No time to wait! I quietly turn the doorknob and sneak into the dimly lit room. In the corner I spot a large armchair that’s the perfect size to hide behind-

Then I hear the sound of water. Why is there water here-? Oh my God.

Thomas is in here. Lying in a tub, smoking a cigarette, staring at the ceiling. Completely bare. 

He obviously saw me come in but raises no alarm to my intrusion. Or the fact that I’ve disturbed him in such a state.

My face turns bright pink but the absence of light does well to hide my shock. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry- I’m just- It’s my turn to hide, and-”

“‘S alright,” Thomas replies nonchalantly and takes a puff on his cigarette. How is he so calm?! “Not the first person to see me.”

Yes. See him. All of him. This is the first time my virgin eyes have seen a man who is not part of my family. As a logical person, I can see how Thomas’ toned figure can cause him to be intimidating and ready for a fight. As a curious woman, I cannot stop the natural reaction that I’m certain all women have from Thomas. It’s no wonder why he’s so cocky- figuratively and literally. Half of me wants to look away shamefully while the other half wants to memorize this vulnerable moment in great detail. His eyes still hold the burdens of ten men. 

What intrigues me most are his tattoos. The dark markings stand out against his pale, wet skin. The only person I know of in my family who has one is Uncle Colon. A Celtic cross on his wrist, similar to the one on my pendant. The idea of tattoos is completely obscure from the rest of my family. I almost want to ask if each of Thomas’ tattoos have a special meaning.

But my mind is far too flustered and embarrassed to think of anything other than immediately getting out of here.

“Right. Um- I’ll just go hide somewhere else-”

“Found you!”

Charlie’s sudden entrance startles me and I nearly tumble backwards into the dresser. The small boy laughs at my clumsiness but then lets out a big yawn.

“Did you wake up too early?” I ask in a pointed tone, putting my hands on my hips and trying to forget my embarrassment.

Charlie gets a sheepish look. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I glance back at Thomas, who gives me a look that says Charlie is at the age when he has no normal sleep schedule. No wonder Thomas has been stressed from little sleep too.

“Well then, how about you take a nap while your daddy and I go to a meeting in the parlor?” I usher him to the creaky bed and start to tuck him in, despite his look of protest. “Trust me Charlie, it’s going to be so dull. So much talking.”

He scrunches his nose at the thought and yawns again. Within a few minutes Charlie’s already fallen asleep.

Knock knock. 

Lord, now who is it?

“Tommy,” Michael’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. “They’ve gathered.”

This is happening so soon. Thomas doesn’t give any verbal reply. He just sighs and takes a drink, eyes still on the ceiling. I think I’m slowly growing used to seeing him without clothes.

I approach from behind. “Would you like me to go out first? Try to calm the approaching storm?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Thomas mutters and finally looks up to see the concern painted on my face, a trait he matches with his own. “Thank you for being here. You’re not family but you're still here.”

“John reminded me of my own broers. I grieve for him too.” Thomas starts to get up and I turn my head to offer privacy; although he clearly pays no thought to that. Something else I notice is that he has nothing laid out to wear. “Would you like a robe?”

At first I think Thomas will take advantage of the situation to mock my modest character or reprimand me for not knocking earlier. Instead of being stunned or ashamed he walks around with a stance that says he doesn’t mind being clothless. Almost as if he’s daring me to look at him. Deep down I feel grateful for the unspoken trust he's placed in me. Not only to see him like this but to also accept his fear of facing his family.

“A towel, please,” Thomas requests kindly, as if asking for a cup of tea.

Makes sense. I’ve already seen him. Why cover up now?

@meadows5

[whencyclopedia]

Merrymount Colony

Merrymount Colony (1624-1630 CE) was a settlement first established in New England as Mount Wollaston in 1624 CE but renamed Mount Ma-re (referred to as Merrymount) in 1626 CE by the lawyer, writer, and colonist Thomas Morton (l. c. 1579-1647 CE), best-known, primarily, from his book New English Canaan (a treatise on the Native Americans of the region, natural history, and satiric critique of his colonist neighbors) and the work Of Plymouth Plantation by William Bradford (l. 1590-1657 CE), second governor of Plymouth Colony, in which he is referred to as the “heathen” who established a “school of Atheism” at Merrymount.

Unlike Plymouth Colony, or the later Massachusetts Bay Colony, Merrymount was more of a trade center than a residential/agricultural community but, owing to Morton's liberal attitude toward religion, and the rapport he developed with the Native Americans, became (according to Morton) more successful and popular than its neighbors. Morton encouraged a celebratory atmosphere and, in 1627 CE, had an 80-foot (24 m) tall Maypole erected in the town square and, declaring himself the community's host, welcomed colonists and Native Americans to a days-long festival.

Bradford sent his militia's commander Myles Standish (l. c. 1584-1656 CE) to arrest Morton in 1628 CE, and he was deported back to England. He returned in 1629 CE, however, and again took up residence at Merrymount until he was again arrested and deported and Merrymount burned in 1630 CE. The story of the colony is given in a number of 17th-century CE sources, including those by Morton, Bradford, and John Winthrop (l. c. 1588-1649 CE) of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The site of Merrymount is now a residential development in Quincy, Massachusetts, but the memory of the settlement as a progressive alternative to the Puritan or separatist models is still celebrated there occasionally by admirers of Morton in the present day.

Mount Wollaston Becomes Merrymount

Morton was employed as a lawyer by the merchant and investor Sir Ferdinando Gorges (l. c. 1565-1647 CE) in 1622 CE, went on a reconnaissance mission for him to North America, returning in 1623 CE, and was then sent back in 1624 CE on an expedition, led by Captain Richard Wollaston (d. 1626 CE) and comprised of 30 indentured servants, to establish a permanent colony for trade some 40 miles (64 km) away from Plymouth Colony. Plymouth Colony had a profitable fur trade established with the Native Americans of the region by this time and, based on Bradford's work, seem to have taken little notice of the new colony, named Mount Wollaston, at first.

In 1626 CE, according to Bradford, Wollaston took some of the indentured servants to Jamestown and hired them out to others. He died at some point the same year and, also according to Bradford, Morton convinced the servants left at Mount Wollaston to rebel against the second-in-command Wollaston had left there (a man named Fitcher), and join him in a venture in which they would all share the profits equally. Once this was accomplished, Morton renamed the settlement Mount Ma-re (from the French mer for “sea” as it was near the coast but a play on “merry”), later known as Merrymount.

Continue reading...

[profiterole-reads]

Activism Fiction Books (with LGBT characters)

In no particular order. These are only books I've read and enjoyed. There are more out there and I will add them to the list as I make my way through them.

1. Everything for Everyone: An Oral History of the New York Commune, 2052–2072 by M.E. O'Brien and Eman Abdelhadi: speculative activism fiction written in the form of non-fiction, with many non-binary characters and two trans women. 12 interviews cover the political, economic, social, health and climate crises of the mid-21st century, then the insurrections that led to establishing communes all over the world, with a focus on NYC.

2. 2033: The Year Things Fell Apart by Rebecca Doll and James Gordon: speculative activism fiction, with a polyamorous lesbian protagonist + several trans/enby characters. This 2024 release follows a woman with an IT job resisting fascism from the inside, while other characters are resisting it from the outside. Note that the plot gets really dark towards the end.

3. This Book Won't Burn by Samira Ahmed: activism against book banning (mostly books by LGBT and/or POC authors), with some f/f + a probably aroace character (YA). This 2024 release follows an Indian American Muslim girl who fights against the book bans in her high school library. It doesn't shy away from the possible retaliations of the fascist side.

4. Something to be Proud of by Anna Zoe Quirke: LGBT and disability/neurodivergence activism, with non-binary characters and a gay boy + some f/nb (YA). This novel follows a chaotic bisexual on the autism spectrum who starts the Ardenpool Academy Activist Society in order to organise a fully accessible Pride festival. The group also works on getting gender-neutral bathrooms at their school.

5. [French] Tant qu'il le faudra by Cordélia: LGBT activism, with characters all over the LGBTQIAP+ spectrum + some m/m and f/f. This is my favourite French series. It follows a group of diverse people who write a queer magazine. It's a brilliant mix of activism, romance, humour and drama.

6. Unbecoming by Seema Yasmin: abortion activism, with some f/f (YA). This 2024 release follows an Indian American hijabi girl and a Palestinian American Muslim girl who decide to write The Texas Teen's Guide to Safe Abortion. Then, the former discovers that she's pregnant. Even with all this information, it's going to be a tough road getting the illegal pills she needs.

7. [French] Nos elles déployées by Jessie Magana: feminist activism, with some f/f + a non-binary character. This novel follows three women over two time periods: in 1974, the fight for abortion in France, and in 2018, the demonstrations for economic justice, then against climate change in France, as well as the protests for Bouteflika's resignation from the presidency in Algeria.

8. My Government Means to Kill Me by Rasheed Newson: ACT UP activism, with many queer men and one lesbian (a lot of sex scenes). This novel follows a gay Black man in 1980s New York City, who starts as an activist with a rent strike, then helps dying AIDS patients and becomes one of the original members of ACT UP.

[female-malice]

Burning Man is pathetic and disgusting. Wealthy libertarian tech bros absolutely destroying the environment just so they can commit sex crimes in the desert.

These freaks believe in settler colonial values first and foremost. They are the truest representatives of American "pioneer" culture. That's what makes them so insufferable.

They were blockaded by environmental activists who were making simple and reasonable demands. So naturally, they called their cop buddies and had them brutalize these environmental activists who were mostly women.

Oh and just in case you thought they couldn't be any worse... they're also NIMBYs. They're rich neoliberal sex crime NIMBYs.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

You may have already made a post about this so sorry if so, but what are your headcanons regarding how Matt and Katya met? And how they kept touch over the years?

Love your content btw!!

Thank you! And actually, somehow, no one has asked me that on any of the blogs! I had to think and coalesce some thoughts. This got long so I am going to split it into two parts but their meeting!

The Trans-Canada railway was completed in the 1880s and finally opened up what was called the ‘last best west.’ Between the Canadian Rockies in the far west and the western edge of the woodlands that define eastern Canada in Manitoba, the prairies stretch out in what looks to a child of the eastern woodlands like a vast treeless void. Grasslands and steppes are incredibly ecologically important, but I am ethnically a clinker-built canoe lover, and they scare the shit out of me. Judging by settlement patterns, most French Canadians agreed. As the American West closed, some Americans were willing to join Canadians and take land ripped from indigenous peoples too. Alberta was a result. Concerned about American settlement, in 1896, the Dominion of Canada’s federal government coordinated with the foreign office of the British Empire to look for more settlers. At the same time, in what was then the Austro-Hungarian empire, Galicia was likely the poorest place in continental Europe, with the only other comparable example being famine-era Ireland. The other Ukrainian-speaking areas of the Austro-Hungarian empire (75-80 of that territory was held by the Russian Empire) weren’t much better off. Each government found a solution in the other. Britain, representing Anglo-dominated Canada, and the Austrians shook hands, and the flow began. The US saw the largest share of Eastern European immigration in this period, but the majority who sailed to Canada were Ukrainians. And even before immigration, the region's international ties were based on Canadian financial interests. So, what does this mean for Katya and Matt?

The scene I imagine is that while the powerful wheel and deal, two products of empire crossed paths. One of these meetings may have taken place during a summer folk festival. Girls wove wreaths of flowers into their hair and floated others down the river. Songs were sung, vodka and wine flowed, and dancers joined hands. While the Austrians and the British bargained, a young man not so far removed from his peasant roots and his own saint’s day celebrated with fire and river wandered into the edge of a valley clearing at the end of the longest day of the northern year. As a maple or spruce was decorated, the sun sank, and the last light of day fell like fire light onto a Carpathian river valley. Bonfires were lit. Against a world on fire, a child of the woodlands looked upon the silhouette of his future, crowned with birchwood silver woven into her braids. Katya sensed him, a being like herself from across the world and turned. She looked at him a long moment, with eyes belonging to a world since passed set in the face that would one day be the image that sprang into Matthew’s mind when he needed to summon a memory of home that would not cleave him in two. She bid him to approach and, with one gesture, changed their fates.

Later, he would find out she spoke the court French of his earliest years, but this night, there is only Katya’s outstretched hand and burning blue eyes reflecting fire and Matt’s fingers lacing into hers to spin in the dance of all the other young men and women. There is no discussion of soil and wheat, nor opportunity and affection. There is only alcohol, laughter, music, fire and spinning, his mouth full of her language, unknown but already familiar. There is only a lightening of her eyes as she enjoys herself, her head flung back in laughter as he chokes on pear horilka stronger and sweeter than any whiskey he’s ever made. Her wreath topples out of her hair, and she bursts into laughter as he snatches it up and runs, calling over his shoulder, and she hikes up her skirts and follows, hand outstretched, only to grasp onto him and run, stride long and confident as they leap together to make it over the bonfire.

Still, together, hands clasped, his right her and left and left touching the laurel wreath, the last symbol she indulges from her Varangian roots. Eye contact, a significance, a weight that will one day balance the heaviness of history. She will press his heart into the shape of hers with that weight. He will give it back in every way he can, the ballast of whatever love she’ll let him give. But for now, in the last light of day, there is only a young man and a young woman hand in hand, circling a fire under a night sky. Here, they are under a star-streaked Milky Way that gives way to a mead moon rising over the mountains. Someday, save them; that moon will be the only witness to this night when mortality leaves alive only a man, a woman, and their most human memory.

[the-blossica-fan]

Hello Miss Blossica fan, did you ever encounter people who looked like the characters from Reverse 1999? I thought about it because I really struggled in drawing 6 in different suits and then I remembered that during a campus festival, I encountered a man who looked EXACTLY like him down to a T, except that he was not wearing a toga of course. I didn't want to startle him so I just stared in shock and didn't say a word (I kinda wish I could draw him as reference but oh well)

Anyways, it kinda reminded me of the other times I saw other Lookalikes. From my province alone, I encountered a lot of people who looked like Shamane and even my cousins looked like Joe. My sister said that her classmate Xerxes looks like Joe too, including the burn marks (which are his birthmarks). And as for the both of us, we concluded that we look like a blend between Getian and Isolde but with slightly more melanin.

Hello Comrade!

Miss Blossica fan is such a fun title, I have to admit I like it.

To be honest, I haven't seen many people who look like recognizable characters from Reverse. I have to say it's mostly because I don't go out too much so I have a selected amount of people I see, but also because there's a lot of mixed people in my country so it's very rare to see someone who looks American, French or Australian.

So far, I can say Moldir, Lopera's sister if I'm not wrong, looks very similar to my sister! I even said that out loud that she reminds me of my sister the last time I saw her.

Might be the black hair, the confidence or the pose, but she's really like my sister. Though she's around 10-16 years older than me Jsjsjsjs

My dad is a mixture between Mr. Karson and Mr. Duncan. He has white hair and beard like Mr Karson but has that easy going, joking dad like Mr Duncan. He's truly a mixture if I look at him really hard.

A friend of mine reminds me of that guy who controlled Anjo in the 2.2 trailer, the one with the eye patch. It's the similarities with the eyes and hair. Yeah he has eye bags and a mischievous yet dead inside look.

But as you can see, I can't compare many people with characters that are not in the 2.2, Brazil update because that's the only kind of people I see.

After I play 2.2, I might find some more similar characters, but so far I have very few people I can compare to these characters.

[aokozaki]

the thing about Burning Man is that the only people who have the money to fuck off into the middle of the inhospitable desert and attend a huge festival and do tons of drugs are people who are rich. like theoretically it's open to anyone but when you combine every factor then it becomes the sort of thing that not everyone can do

Right, yeah, now that I'm older that makes sense.

I heard about it from my American uncle (who hadn't been himself, to be clear), as a kid in a sort of "hey you heard of this neat thing?" kinda way.

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 8.25

Holidays

American Oil Discovery Day (Pennsylvania)

Apocynum Day (French Republic)

Aromatic Visibility Day

Australian South Sea Islander Recognition Day (Australia)

Battle Of Blair Mountain Anniversary Day

Clio Asteroid Day

English Channel Swim Day

Gene Simmons Day

Great American Duck Day

The Great Moon Hoax Day

Healthy Lifestyle Day

Honorable Artillery Company Day (UK)

International Day of the Hairstylist

International Redhead Day

Kiss and Make Up Day

Lake Sevan Day (Armenia)

Liberation of Paris Day (Paris, France)

National Don't Utter a Word Day

National Park Service Founders Day

National Poetry Day (New Zealand)

National Second-Hand Wardrobe Day

National Tech-Voc Day (Philippines)

Nils Lofgren Day

Pops Staples Day (Chicago, Illinois)

Private Eye Day

Rohingya Genocide Remembrance Day

Second-Hand Wardrobe Day

Soldier's Day (Brazil)

Songun (North Korea)

South Sea Islander Recognition Day (Australia)

Tim Burton Day

Wizard of Oz Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Feast of the Green Corn

Instant Ramen Day (Japan)

National Banana Split Day

National Lamington Day

National Whiskey Sour Day

Independence & Related Days

Belarus (from USSR, 1991)

Constitution Day (Paraguay)

Iloilo City Charter Day (Philippines)

New Orleans (Founded; 1718)

Parva Domus Magna Quies (Declared; 1878) [unrecognized]

Uruguay (from Brazil, 1825)

4th & Last Sunday in August

Burning Man begins (Nevada) [8.27 thru 9.4]

Family Day (Tennessee) [Last Sunday]

Go Topless Day [ website ] [Sunday nearest 26th] (Also 8.24)

International Bereaved Father’s Day [Last Sunday]

Miner’s Day (USSR) [Last Sunday]

National Faith HIV/AIDS Awareness Day [Last Sunday]

National Fantasy Football Draft Day [Last Sunday]

Notting Hill Carnival begins (UK) [Sunday before Last Monday]

Plague Sunday (Gloucestershire, UK) [Last Sunday]

Pony Express Day [Last Sunday]

Sacrifice Our Wants For Other’s Needs Sunday [Sunday of Be Kind to Humankind Week]

Seven For Sunday [Every Sunday]

Social Justice Sunday [Last Sunday]

Soothing Sunday [4th Sunday of Each Month]

Spud Sunday [4th Sunday of Each Month]

Souper Sunday [Last Sunday of Each Month]

Sultry Sunday [Last Sunday of Each Month]

Sundae Sunday [Every Sunday]

Sunday Funday [Every Sunday]

World Kitchen Garden Day [4th Sunday]

Weekly Holidays beginning August 25 (4th Full Week of August)

Be Kind to Humankind Week (thru 8.31)

Brake Safety Week (thru 8.31)

Contact Lens Health Week [4th Week]

National Composites Week [Last Week]

World Water Week (thru 8.29)

Festivals Beginning August 25, 2024

Bloemencorso Blankenberge (Blankenberge, Belgium)

Burning Man (Black Rock City, Nevada) [thru 9.2]

California Restaurant Show (Los Angeles, California) [thru 8.27]

Coffee Fest Los Angeles (Los Angeles, California) [thru 8.27]

Detroit Bourbon & Blues Festival (Detroit, Michigan)

Georgia VegFest (Atlanta, Georgia)

Notting Hill Carnival (London, United Kingdom) [thru 8.26]

Nutty Pie Contest, at the Alaska State Fair (Palmer, Alaska)

Peach Festival (Grafton, Illinois)

Sharq Taronalari International Music Festival (Samarkand, Uzbekistan) [thru 8.30]

Taste of Huntington Beach (Huntington Beach, California)

Terptown Throwdown (Boston, Massachusetts)

Feast Days

Æbbe of Coldingham (Christian; Saint)

Aredius (Christian; Saint)

Bret Harte (Writerism)

Charles-Amédée-Philippe van Loo (Artology)

Conté (Positivist; Saint)

Daniel Hulet (Artology)

Discovery of the Runes (Norse)

Dorothea Tanning (Artology)

Duke (Price Charming’s Horse; Muppetism)

Ebba (a.k.a. Tabbs; Christian; Saint)

Frederick Forsyth (Writerism)

Ganesh Chaturthi (a.k.a. Vinayaka Chaturthi; India)

Genesius of Arles (Christian; Saint)

Genesius of Rome (Christian; Saint)

Ginés de la Jara (a.k.a. Genesius of Cartagena; Christian; Saint)

George Stubbs (Artology)

Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato (Artology)

Gregory of Utrecht (Christian; Saint)

Heliogabalus Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Horus Nativity (Ancient Egypt)

Ian Falconer (Artology)

Jacob Maris (Artology)

Joan Antide-Thouret (Christian; Saint & Virgin)

Joseph of Calasanz (Christian; Saint)

Leonard Bernstein (Humanism)

Louis IX of France (Christian; Saint)

Ludovicus Baba (Christian; Blessed)

Ludovicus Sasada (Christian; Blessed)

Luis Sotelo (Christian; Blessed)

Maelrubha (Celtic Book of Days)

Martin Amis (Writerism)

Mary Michaela Desmaisieres (Christian; Saint & Virgin)

Menas of Constantinople (Christian; Saint)

Michael Kaluta (Artology)

Miguel de Carvalho (Christian; Blessed)

Opiconsivia (Roman festival to Ops, goddess of fertility & abundance)

Patricia of Naples (Christian; Saint)

Pedro Vásquez, Blessed (Christian; Saint)

Rumpleskunkskin’s Bride Escapes to Heerwigoland (Fairy Celebration; Shamanism)

Thomas de Cantilupe (a.k.a. of Hereford; Christian; Saint)

Walt Kelly (Artology)

Whiskey Sour Day (Pastafarian)

Hindu Calendar Holidays [Begins at Sundown Day Before]

Krishna Janmashtami (a.k.a. Krishnashtami, Janmashtami, or Gokulashtami)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [34 of 53]

Premieres

Advance and Be Mechanized (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1967)

And Justice For All, by Metallica (Album; 1988)

Barnacle Bill (Betty Boop Cartoon; 1930)

Beerfest (Film; 2006)

Bertie the Brain (Video Game; 1950)

Born to Run, by Bruce Springsteen (Album; 1975)

Boston, by Boston (Album; 1976)

Bring It On (Film; 2000)

Carrotblanca (WB LT Cartoon; 1995)

Cheese Chasers (WB MM Cartoon; 1951)

Desperado (Film; 1995)

Electric Ladyland Studio (Recording Studio; 1970)

The Golden West (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1939)

Graceland, by Paul Simon (Album; 1986)

Grand Uproar (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1933)

Humboldt's Gift, by Saul Bellow (Novel; 1975)

Invasion of the Bunny Snatchers (WB TV Cartoon; 1992)

Laughable Loves, by Milan Kundera (Short Stories; 1969)

Leap!, a.k.a. Ballerina (Animated Film; 2017)

Madame Bovary (Film; 1949)

Miracle on 34th Street, by Valentine Davies (Novel; 1947)

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, by Lauryn Hill (Album; 1998)

Mutt ’n’ Bones (Phantasies Cartoon; 1944)

My So-Called Life (TV Series; 1994)

The Pink Tail Fly (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1965)

The Pique Poquette of Paris (The Inspector Cartoon; 1966)

Raw! Raw! Rooster! (WB LT Cartoon; 1956)

Samurai!, by Saburo Sakai (Autobiography; 1957)

Solid Ivory (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1947)

Swing Shift Cinderella (Tex Avery MGM Cartoon; 1945)

The Tale of Despereaux, by Kate DiCamillo (Children’s Book; 2003)

The Thief and the Cobbler (Animated Film; 1995)

The Wizard of Oz (Film; 1939)

Wrecking Ball, by Miley Cyrus (Song; 2013)

Today’s Name Days

Elvira, Josef, Ludwig, Patricia (Austria)

Grgur, Josip, Ljudevit (Croatia)

Radim (Czech Republic)

Ludvig (Denmark)

Tauno, Tunne (Estonia)

Loviisa (Finland)

Louis (France)

Ebba, Elvira, Ludwig (Germany)

Bartholomeos, Titos (Greece)

Lajos, Patrícia (Hungary)

Ludovico, Luigi (Italy)

Ivonna, Ludis, Ludvigs (Latvia)

Liucija, Liudas, Liudvikas, Mangailas, Mangailė (Lithuania)

Louise, Lovise, Ludvig (Norway)

Gaudencjusz, Gaudenty, Grzegorz, Ludwik, Luiza, Michał, Sieciesław (Poland)

Ľudovít (Slovakia)

Ginés, José, Luis, Patricia (Spain)

Louise, Lovisa (Sweden)

Dorcas, Lanard, Lennie, Lenny, Leonard, Leonardo, Tabatha, Tabitha (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 238 of 2024; 128 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of Week 34 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 23 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Ren-Shen), Day 22 (Xin-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 21 Av 5784

Islamic: 19 Safar 1446

J Cal: 28 Purple; Sevenday [28 of 30]

Julian: 12 August 2024

Moon: 58%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 13 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Conté]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 3 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 67 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of August

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 4 of 32)

[iwantoseeafrigatebird]

the orkney trip

part 11 redux

tumblr you suck. my internet is good but you have to stuck at 20% upload eh?

day 9 (continued)

So I walked down towards the beach, crossing the burn, just as I was about to descend the rocky slope I saw this:

It's the skeleton of a red throated diver! I narrowed it down to divers, then checked it against the photos i took of the bird skulls displayed in the Gloup visitor centre and the specimens in the stromness museum (they have a room full of birds taxidermy among other things to my absolute delight)

I took the skull but the rest were interred into the bothy window to carry on the tradition. Leave no trace but the bones you found.

the skull and its pretty shadow on the bothy's doorframe in the golden hour.

So I thought, I should boil the eggs I brought all the way from Kirkwall behind the house, shielded from the wind. That's when I met Robbie the Irish guy from Dublin, who was cycling around scotland after getting the idea from seeing peopole cycling south america, just got down from Shetland and was now heading to Ullapool. Although there were two other big groups there (one group of young people and another group in their 50s on motorcycles who just came up from Ullapool), only Robbie and I decided to sleep in the bothy. We got a fire going for a while and had some warmth in the evening, although we couldn't find an axe to chop the rest of the firewood (i suspect that the warden took it to stop people from turning the chairs and tables into firewood).

That's the big group. One of their stove was so powerful, it resembled a little bonfire and transformed the cottage into a paleonithic cave filled with firelight and shadows of its inhabitans dancing on cold stone walls. The situation had stalker vibes I thought. The roof leaks but thankfully there wasn't any rain that night. Although there was a hole in the wall near my head that was stuffed with paper and I slept in my boots, it was comfortable enough. Nice to have a roof over my head.

-

day 10

Robbie got up early to run to see the Old Man, and we got on the morning ferry. On that ferry were Robbie, me, the american couple, two tourists who kept to themselves, Tom Attah a blues musician and professor at Leeds Arts uni who is here to perform at the Orkney Blues Festival, and Malcolm from Hoy, clawhammer banjo player who shares my love of american old time music.

The american man got to talking with them (he was affable and friendly, talking to everyone he met as if we were sandbox npcs *affectionate"). I don't talk unless no one does (one of the reason I like traveling alone, because if I'm with someone else I will let them do all the talking unless they are keeping silent as well, which annoyed the hell out of a past friend), so I just listened in. That Sunday was the last day of the Orkney Blues festival, and there were going to be free music events all afternoon and in the evening there would be a finale concert. Of course I simply had to go. I only had the museum on my list that day anyhow.

Stromness museum features whaling, seafaring, exploratiom (supposedly the first european to be buried in Australia was an Orcadian), the hudson bay company, the franklin expedition (the last british soil they set foot on was here, Franklin was entertained ashore, they got their water from the Login's well), and of course, John Rae. His fiddle was here, all restored, somewhere in the museum was another fiddle made of tin by a herring trawler blacksmith after losing his fiddle at sea. The two were played together at one time.

A game we should play.

Hudson bay company recruitment poster.

James Fitzjames' name made a surprise appearance written on the stern of this Cloth Boat here that should've accompanied John Rae on his expedition but never made it.

Login's well. This is why Stromness is the final stop, it is pilgrimage to me.

And yes I did talked to the poor Irish guy about John Rae, the Franklin expedition and the Terror. It simply had to be done and we were standing right under the statue of John Rae near the piers, if not then, when?

(tbc)

[hoghtastic]

New Interview for Soundvenue — English translation:

ALEX HØGH ANDERSEN ON A GREAT INTERNATIONAL OPPORTUNITY: “IT’S A CLASSIC IMPOSTER SYNDROME!” Alex Høgh Andersen got through an ultra-narrow needle's eye before getting a role in the new film by Spanish master Pedro Almódovar starring Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore. We spoke to the actor before the world premiere of 'The Room Next Door' at the Venice Film Festival at the start of next week.

VENICE FILM FESTIVAL. As a former lead actor in one of the world's most popular series in recent times, Alex Høgh Andersen is no novice when it comes to working on large international productions.

But still, it was something very special to get the chance in a film by none other than Pedro Almódovar. The man behind new classics such as 'Talk to Her', 'All About My Mother', 'Volver' and 'Pain and Glory'. The greatest Spanish director in recent times. One of the greatest auteurs in recent times.

Alex Høgh Andersen broke through internationally with 'Vikings', before he made a name for himself at home with roles in films such as Ole Bornedal's 'The Shadow in My Eye' and 'Nightwatch — Demons Are Forever'. Most recently, he has shown a new side of his talent as the creator of the comedy series 'Call Me Dad', where he also played the lead role.

But now abroad has pulled him in again with a prominent project to say the least. 'The Room Next Door' is Almódovar's first English-language film, it has Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore in the two main roles, and it will have a glamorous world premiere at the Venice Film Festival at the beginning of next week.

A world premiere that Alex himself is not going to attend, which means that I [the interviewer], as a Venice broadcast, get to see the film before him.

"Of course I would have liked to have been on the sidelines, but it's Pedro and the two female stars' film, so it makes good sense that it's just them running the show," he says. FROM SUPERMAN TO ALMÓDOVAR 'The Room Next Door' is about the relationship between the mother and war correspondent Martha (Swinton) and the writer Ingrid (Moore). We still don't know much more about the film — apart from the fact that it has had a beautiful and atmospheric teaser — and Alex also has to keep his cards close to his body before it sees the light of day. He can tell that he's playing an American war veteran — but that's more or less it. On the other hand, he can tell how he landed the role. "It's rare that you get something like this if you don't know someone or have had a coffee together at a festival or something. But here it was in a very classic way, where I was given the opportunity to make a self-tape via my American agent. Those e-mails with opportunities for self-tapes tend to be pretty lame and identical, but then there are times when you get to cast in the next Superman movie, and you give it a shot, even if you know that's not going to happen", he begins. "And then there are other times when you think, 'Maybe this could make sense'. And when I was told that it was Pedro Almódovar's next, I thought that this is exciting enough." "So I shot the self-tape at home in the bedroom with the help of my girlfriend, and then I went on to something as mind-blowing as Zoom castings with the Spanish casting agency with a delay on the line, where I had to have ptsd and imagine a burning house. I then had two or three of them at intervals of a month and a half, and I kept going forward. I thought: What's going on?" HUGE CHALLENGE Why were you surprised? "Because I'm playing a full-blown American character. A war veteran who returns home from Vietnam with scars on his soul. They could just as easily have chosen an American actor, but they went with me, and I'm really proud of that, even though I almost feel like I've been tricked into an American role! So when we were recording, it was also just about no one having anything on me, I just had to drive that American completely fluently, without anyone being able to hear anything. Now we have to see if it has succeeded! But it was a huge challenge". Yeah, how did you go about nailing that American accent? "We had a dialect coach who was half American and half Spanish. He was so nice. And we talked a lot, but from the start he was very much like, 'we have to make small adjustments, but you're pretty much on target, Alex'. I was very surprised by that! But when the music plays and you're sitting in Madrid, and there are 300 people on set, and you have 1000 things to remember while the camera is rolling… the first thing that comes to mind is the adopted American accent. And I was well aware of that. So it was something about being extra up to speed".

I remember Nikolaj Coster-Waldau talking about how difficult it was for him to nail the American accent 100% correctly, even though he had lived in the US for many years… "Yes, I also felt far out in the deep water, but it was a classic fake it 'till you make it. But I haven't even done a post-sync on it. Not that it makes me calmer, quite the opposite! It's anxiety-provoking, as for good reasons I couldn't hear for myself whether the accent was 100% there, whereas I always have a sense of the quality of my acting when I work in Danish." "Fortunately, I was so privileged to be on a production with an auteur of that caliber, where there is time. It is the first time I have experienced that there is such a good time. Also time to be able to prepare the way we did. I spent more time preparing for the shoot than shooting. I pretty much spent all of February in Madrid being on standby and prepping and back and forth. If Pedro wants something, it happens. It was an insanely privileged experience to be on the sidelines."

SHIT NERVOUS

How was your first meeting with Almódovar? "I was fucking nervous. But it was also still during casting. There were two of us left and I was flown to Madrid. I talked to him a bit — about the weather, they apologized for the weather because it was a bit cold. But it was the first sun I had seen in four months in the middle of the Danish winter, so I thought it was delicious. We laughed a little at that." "But it was a crazy experience to enter his office. 10 years ago I studied his films at Film and Media Studies, and then I sit there and look at the pictures behind him with Penelope Cruz and Antonio Banderas, etc., next to some of his many awards."

How does he direct differently than what you've tried before? "It's just crazy to experience how much focus there is on the details. Nothing is left to chance. We recorded an hour north of New York in a very nice house from the 70s. The art department was ready with four different fabric samples, in four different shades of orange, which he must then choose for the curtain in the background of the scene." "They put a light on me for an hour, where I just sat by. Usually you use a stand-in, but I didn't want to, I just wanted to be there and see how they set up the lights and how their anthills roam and work together and make things happen. That's what I love most about my job, just absorbing. An hour's lighting alone on my closeup - I've never tried that before." THE VERDICT OF REAL AMERICANS

How did you feel about being in a movie with Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton at the top of the poster? "The first time I went to work, there was an overview of the cast. Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore were at the top, and I was number 4 or 5 on the list. There I thought: When will they find out that I cheated for the role? It was classic imposter syndrome!"

Do you hope this role can open new doors in your career? "I have thrown that hope away a long time ago. I know that everything possible comes into play that you have no control over. Like how an industry suddenly collapses when I come home from 'Vikings' and think, now I just have to get out of there, and then comes corona and the writer's strike and the Create Denmark conflict at home. So no, not that way." "My biggest hope is really just that some real Americans see the film and think, he's done just fine, that guy. And otherwise I'm just extremely happy to have had this experience. Who the hell am I to be allowed to go to New York to play smart!?"

'The Room Next Door' will have its Danish premiere on 31st October.

[whencyclopedia]

Merrymount Colony

Merrymount Colony (1624-1630 CE) was a settlement first established in New England as Mount Wollaston in 1624 CE but renamed Mount Ma-re (referred to as Merrymount) in 1626 CE by the lawyer, writer, and colonist Thomas Morton (l. c. 1579-1647 CE), best-known, primarily, from his book New English Canaan (a treatise on the Native Americans of the region, natural history, and satiric critique of his colonist neighbors) and the work Of Plymouth Plantation by William Bradford (l. 1590-1657 CE), second governor of Plymouth Colony, in which he is referred to as the “heathen” who established a “school of Atheism” at Merrymount.

Unlike Plymouth Colony, or the later Massachusetts Bay Colony, Merrymount was more of a trade center than a residential/agricultural community but, owing to Morton's liberal attitude toward religion, and the rapport he developed with the Native Americans, became (according to Morton) more successful and popular than its neighbors. Morton encouraged a celebratory atmosphere and, in 1627 CE, had an 80-foot (24 m) tall Maypole erected in the town square and, declaring himself the community's host, welcomed colonists and Native Americans to a days-long festival.

Bradford sent his militia's commander Myles Standish (l. c. 1584-1656 CE) to arrest Morton in 1628 CE, and he was deported back to England. He returned in 1629 CE, however, and again took up residence at Merrymount until he was again arrested and deported and Merrymount burned in 1630 CE. The story of the colony is given in a number of 17th-century CE sources, including those by Morton, Bradford, and John Winthrop (l. c. 1588-1649 CE) of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The site of Merrymount is now a residential development in Quincy, Massachusetts, but the memory of the settlement as a progressive alternative to the Puritan or separatist models is still celebrated there occasionally by admirers of Morton in the present day.

Mount Wollaston Becomes Merrymount

Morton was employed as a lawyer by the merchant and investor Sir Ferdinando Gorges (l. c. 1565-1647 CE) in 1622 CE, went on a reconnaissance mission for him to North America, returning in 1623 CE, and was then sent back in 1624 CE on an expedition, led by Captain Richard Wollaston (d. 1626 CE) and comprised of 30 indentured servants, to establish a permanent colony for trade some 40 miles (64 km) away from Plymouth Colony. Plymouth Colony had a profitable fur trade established with the Native Americans of the region by this time and, based on Bradford's work, seem to have taken little notice of the new colony, named Mount Wollaston, at first.

In 1626 CE, according to Bradford, Wollaston took some of the indentured servants to Jamestown and hired them out to others. He died at some point the same year and, also according to Bradford, Morton convinced the servants left at Mount Wollaston to rebel against the second-in-command Wollaston had left there (a man named Fitcher), and join him in a venture in which they would all share the profits equally. Once this was accomplished, Morton renamed the settlement Mount Ma-re (from the French mer for “sea” as it was near the coast but a play on “merry”), later known as Merrymount.

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