#gulf recliners

[gulfrecliners]

https://gulfrecliners.com/

Gulf Recliners is a leading furniture company specializing in recliners, recliner chairs, recliner sofas, luxurious home theater recliners, and comfortable motion furniture in the Gulf region. We have a strong presence in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) and have expanded our reach into other Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries, including Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 94

Part 1 Part 93

Will can’t tear his gaze away from Steve. Even as Carol flutters around him, frantic and worried, and Eddie just cries.

Will’s shivering. Mom’s rubbing her hands up and down his arms in quick movements, like she can warm him up. But he is warm. The Harrington’s water heater’s working as good as advertised; the bathroom’s downright sweltering. 

He’s just shaking. 

“We should get him to the hospital,” Barbara says, crouching down beside Steve and settling her fingers against his pulse. She looks over at Eddie, grimacing, “Probably get all of us looked at.”

Eddie’s sopping wet and bloody, cheekbone swelling, and he’s sitting hunched strangely like something inside him aches. Perkins is similarly scuffed up and bruised, if less bloody. Collectively, they look like a group of disaster victims that barely managed to crawl their way out of the rubble.

Eddie pulls Steve further into himself, hauling himself up with a painful-sounding grunt, Steve cradled in his arms. 

Mom lets go of Will, rushing forward to flutter her hands around him. “You shouldn’t be holding him, sweetie,” she cries. “You’re hurt.”

Eddie’s already listing to the side, nearly falling back into the tub until Barbara curls her own arms around Steve, hefting him up. 

“I’ve got him,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’re three seconds away from keeling over dead,” Carols scoffs, leading the way out of the bathroom with sloshing footsteps.

Eddie and Barbara shuffle after her, awkward like they’re hauling an old couch out to make room for a new one. They luckily fit side by side on the stairs, but Carol still walks in front of them, hands raised to catch anyone who tumbles, somehow maneuvering each backward step with ease. 

Mom and Will hold up the rear, taking awkward stilted steps to try to stay out of anyone’s way at the slow pace. 

The house is lit, fluorescent and quiet, and warm against his cooling skin from the heat Carol had clicked on when they’d arrived. He feels like an ant walking through its opulent, barren rooms, leaving wet, muddy tracks into its pristine carpet. 

The gulf between him and Steve seems like a trench. It’s hard to imagine Steve here, small and alone in his nice clean sneakers and his clean, fresh clothes. Everything’s so white, any careless movement could leave a smudge. Will’s house is a second-hand storage bin.

But then again, Steve had left this house hadn’t he? He’d made himself as at home in the Munson’s trailer as Uncle Wayne’s recliner or Eddie’s guitar. 

Will’s throat hurts when he swallows, like that time he’d gotten strep and hadn’t been able to go to school for a whole week. He raises his fingers to the tender flesh, feels them like Steve’s hand around his throat. 

He wants his Mom, even with her standing right there. He wants Steve even though he’s passed out in front of him and it was his hands–

No. He can’t think like that. He can’t.

The house is the graveyard of Steve’s life. Had he toddled down these stairs as a teenager? Settled onto that couch as a teenager? Hosted parties in that kitchen? It’s hard to picture the rooms full of people, even when he knows it's true.

The rumors of his parties had trickled down even to the middle school.

But it’s so quiet now. Too quiet.

“Mike?” Will calls as they stagger their way into the living room. 

No one answers.

“Kids?” Mom calls, rushing around where Barbara and Eddie are clogging up the living room. “Where are you?”

She frantically searches the living room, then kitchen, then opens doors at random, calling through the house for no one who can hear her. Will can almost hear his own disappearance echoing through her desperate words. “Where did they go?” she cries as she dashes back into the living room, eyes frantic and wide. 

Barbara snorts. “Doing something stupid would be my guess.” She adjusts her hold on Steve, doing a little jump to shimmy him back up into her arms from where he’d been slipping.

Will bolts out of the house, ignoring everyone’s calls in his mad dash to the van. Harrington's security light turns on, blanketing him in sharp light, briefly blinding him before his eyes adjust. 

Max’s step-brother’s car is gone, the only proof that he was ever there a splash of blood on concrete. 

The van’s gone too. 

Will fishes his walkie talkie out of his pocket, hands fumbling with wet jeans. It’s damp when he pries it free. He wipes it off on his partially dry shirt and compresses the button with baited breath, sighing in relief when the tell-tale crackle of an open line filters through. 

His voice is breathless and croaking as he asks, “where are you, are you okay?” all in one breath, finishing with a quick, “over.” 

It’s Lucas who replies. “Did it work?” 

“He’s back,” Will replies, choking on tears he didn’t realize were flowing. 

It’s silent for a moment before Mike’s voice comes through. “What about El?”

Will’s gut churns, throat clicking as he says, “We don’t know yet,” he turns back toward the house, noticing for the first time that the garage door is open, shelves ransacked, odds and ends tossed haphazardly all over the floor. “We have to get Steve to the hospital; did you take the van?”

Everyone else is shuffling out of the house, cries of dismay and alarm coming from them all as they take in the lack of transportation. Barbara asks, “should we call an ambulance?” as she stares dubiously at all of them, frowning at their bedraggled states. 

Before anyone can reply, there’s the murmur of too-many voices for the walkie to pick up before Dustin’s voice cuts through it with a vehement “shit,” Max’s own shouted “we’re almost back!” barely intelligible, like she was speaking from too-far away. 

“Who’s driving?” Mom cries, running up to Will and looking down at the walkie clutched in his hand like it’ll open its mouth and answer her questions despite the button not even being compressed.

It doesn’t matter – the van comes careening around the corner, and onto the street too fast. It takes the turn into the driveway too wide, running over the Harrington’s perfectly cultivated rose bushes before it screeches to a stop alarmingly close to their fleshy bodies.

Carol laughs when she catches sight of Max sitting in the driver’s seat, looking out at all of them like she belongs there. “I like you, red,” she calls, even as she opens the driver’s side door and shoves her out of the way despite her protests. “You’ve got guts.”

Dustin wrenches the door open, eyes widening as he catches sight of Steve. “What the hell happened to you guys?” 

Barbara bullies her way past him, losing her footing and her grip on Steve enough that his head thuds alarmingly into the hard floor of the van despite Eddie’s fumbling to help. They all end up sprawling, Eddie on the van’s ground, Barbara only partially in, feet dangling awkwardly out the open door. 

“Be careful,” Eddie snarls, glaring up at where she stands. She doesn’t spare him a glance as she helps get Steve fully into the van. Eddie pulls Steve away from her, almost growling. It’s incongruent with the picture he paints as places Steve’s head gently in his own lap, smoothing his wet hair back from his face. 

Barbara ignores the whole thing, moving past them all to claim the passenger seat, brushing past where Max is still crouched by the driver’s seat. Barbara settles into the seat like she owns it, foot up on the dash, knee bent as she turns to lock gazes with Carol.

Dustin’s hovering by Steve and Eddie, hands flitting around like he wants to touch but can’t figure out where it won't hurt anyone further. 

Mike and Lucas both stay seated, looking down at Steve with furrowed brows. “Is he going to be okay?” Lucas asks. No one answers because no one knows. 

“How’d you even start it?” Carol asks Max, fiddling with the trailing wires Eddie’d used to spark the thing to life. 

Max snorts derisively and crosses her arms, dropping to sit criss cross on her butt. “You morons never cut the engine.”

“Enough!” Mom yells, brushing Will’s shoulders gently and easing him forward until he has no choice but to crawl into the van himself. She climbs in beside him, shutting the door with a slam that makes everyone jump. “Carol, dear? Drive.”

She does, pulling out of the driveway with only slightly less reckless abandon than Max used to enter it. 

It’s quiet as the van trundles down the road, save for Eddie’s quiet, unintelligible murmuring in Steve’s ears. His ribs must hurt with the way he’s hunched over Steve, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Will stays where he is, sitting on his hands even as he feels Eddie’s gentle pulling, like he needs to know that Will’s still there. 

“Did we turn off the water?” Carol asks, cutting through the tension with relaxed ease. 

Barbara snorts, “Did we close the front door?”

Will pictures that empty dollhouse with its absent family. He pictures it filling with water, like a fishbowl, like the Titanic. A shrine to all the cruelties that happened there. 

“Do we care?” Will asks. Steve’s face looks peaceful in sleep. Almost serene the way it never is when he’s awake.

Carol laughs, manic as she speeds up, van bumping along the road at reckless speeds. “We do not,” she calls vindictively before laughing again. 

Will doesn’t take his eyes off Steve. 

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Part 95

[fromthedust]

Reclining Figure - terra cotta -Mexico, Gulf Coast, 4th-7th Century

[mercymornsimpathizer]

1, 3, 15, 22 :)

1. faves of the year: almost too many to name—this was a really good reading year for me! Mervyn Peak's Gormenghast series and Nicola Dinan's forthcoming novel Disappoint me both moved me to tears (for similar reasons), Katherine Addison's The Goblin Emperor convinced me that I do actually like fantasy novels, and I inhaled Naomi Novik's Temeraire series like a poorly socialized ten year old with too much free time.

but, my overall, all around favorite has to be Running Fiercely Toward a Thin High Sound by Judith Katz, which I loved beyond the point of articulation.

3. DNF with prejudice: since I only had one real and true DNF this year (Leech by Hiron Ennes, previously answer), I'll name and shame one book I probably should have DNF'd: Old Enough by Haley Jakobson, which I can only describe as gratingly juvenile. I slogged through the whole thing and hated every moment of it.

15. biggest disappointment: most of the books I disliked this year were ones I went into with low expectations (e.g. Compound Fracture by Andrew Joseph White and Metal From Heaven by August/HA Clarke, both of which were in keeping with the authors' previous books that I also disliked). probably the biggest gulf between "awesome premise" and "awful execution," though, was Tripping Arcadia by Kit Mayquist, a class-conflict thriller about poison and psychedelics that just never really delivered. to be fair, it is the author's first novel, but also to be fair, I could tell that it's the author's first novel.

22. best book found in the wild: when people tell you not to judge a book by its cover, they're not talking about Patricia McKillip novels. I picked up The Bell at Sealey Head purely on the basis of the Yuniko Craft painting on the cover, and I will pick it up again anytime I need to feel nice. made me feel like I was eating a fancy pastry in a beautiful cafe when I was actually rotting in my thirty year old recliner.

[rookwurmwood]

The Den

It had been five or six years since I laid on the deck of the Joyeuse in a puddle of my own blood. The ship’s doctor, a Swiss gentleman named Max, leaning low over me so that the cannon fire which flew over us did not hit him; all while trying to put my guts back in my abdomen after it had been unzipped by the cutlass of a pirate. The din of the fighting slowly fading to a piercing drone as a foggy veil slipped over my eyes.

I was no fighting man and fell first when they had boarded us but fate would have it that I was the only of the wounded who would survive the long journey when we limped our way to Hong Kong where I had first taken up that poison to ease the pain as my stitches healed. I would sail with the crew of the Joyeuse for two additional voyages before the captain discharged me after several incidents when the tendrils of withdrawal wrapped 'round my mind whilst underway which deprived me of the sweet milk of the poppy. Coming to a head when I had been seized by a particularly violent episode of delirium which saw me attacking the first mate. After my relinquishment from the East India Company, I returned back to my native Paris to wallow in shameful self-exile. I consider that to be the darkest period of my life as I lived in the most squalid slums of the Left Bank; a maze of narrow boulevards and high, crumbling buildings. There I dwelt with my fellow low-lives and destitutes amidst shadowed alleys which conceal the darkest of doings. Though with all the back-stabbing common in such circles, I had no friends and was well and truly alone.

I made a meager living as a worker on the river-boats which congest the Seine and spent the few Francs I got from slinging crates and tying bowlines on whatever sins of the flesh I could afford. I do not dare to ponder just how many nights I spent traversing the unsavory underbelly of Paris though my face was a familiar one to the proprietors of the brothels and opium dens of the slums. I, of course, frequented those hazy burrows of degeneracy quite often as they had ample supply of opium which was smuggled 'cross the deserts from the Ottoman Empire. I was very much privy to the lengths others who dwell on the lowest realms of society will go to in a bid to see another day, so I dared not leave my hovel without my effects whenever I was off to my preferred lair of corruption and degeneracy. Those two items being: a short cutlass which was given to me as a morbidly ironic parting gift from one of my friends aboard the Joyeuse and concealable percussion cap pistol I won in a game of cards. Desperation and drug-fueled paranoia had greatly sharpened my ability to fend for myself as if I were to let someone get the drop on me again, I would not have another Max who would save my life.

I would tuck both weapons into my sash, wait until sun-down, and skulk down the filthy avenues and gutters to whichever place had not been raided by the police. One night, I had gone out on my usual routine of pursuing vice with additional fervor as I had been paid extra that week. I had found a reputable (as reputable as such a place can be) locale which I had heard of by word of mouth from other untouchables. I soon found myself reclined upon a mound of oriental silk cushions, my limbs heavy, body numb, and mind swathed in ignorant euphoria as I watched the smoke dance about the flame of the candle which sat on a stool in front of me. I sunk deeper and deeper into lethargy until my eyes felt impossible to keep open until I succumbed to the baneful yet caressing hands of my master. I felt that familiar sensation of death yet again; but this time, I resisted not the embrace of Azrael for if this is what it felt like to pass through the curtain of death by the kiss of opium, then I would go willingly. The darkness seemed to swallow the darkness as I found myself amidst endless black gulfs of nethermost confusion.

Yet, I awoke. I was still surrounded by darkness, yet I could feel cold stone beneath me. I then became aware of the funerary silence around me, my ragged breathing and clumsy stirring produced no echo which indicated I must have been in a very small room. I blindly groped around my surroundings and was met with a uniform surface of damp stone and the stale air was thick with the odor of mold. I reached into my pockets and felt for my book of matches and stuck one against the side which bathed the chamber in a dim light. I was at the end of a narrow tunnel with a very low ceiling. I looked above to see if there was a trap door above me but saw only the yawning darkness of the shaft which stretched above and beyond the light of my measly flame. I had heard of this happening before, patrons of opium dens overdosing and the owner dumping their bodies into the catacombs beneath the city to dispose of the evidence. Someone must have taken me for dead in my fugue state and I was dropped down some shaft into one of the fringe tunnels of that subterranean labyrinth.

Panic washed over me. I had been aware of the catacombs since I was a boy and had known that people would always go in and never come out as they practically ran the width and breadth of the entire city of Paris. Eventually, I had gathered my wits and resolved to find a way out and pressed forward into the dark tunnel ahead. I had assumed a strange, stooping posture to walk or crawl down the tunnel; as I progressed, the floor became covered in frigid, stagnant water which gently rippled beneath the soles of my boots which pried the iron doors of silence just a tad farther open as I continued. Eventually, the tunnel grew wider and taller and I could stand erect yet again. I had burned out most of my matches by this point but by chance, my hand brushed upon the rusty torch-sconce on the wall which still held its load aloft. I seized the handle of desiccated, worm-eaten wood, and saw that the head still had a bit of moldy canvas or linen bandings on the top which I set alight with my final match. This increased the reach of my vision and provided a good deal of warmth and comfort which eased my addled nerves as I roamed the Hadean darkness.

The tunnel I was in soon gave way to a larger chamber. The flame which clung to the end of my torch struggled to part the tenebrous curtains which obscured what appeared to be the undercroft of a cathedral with a gothic vaulted ceiling held aloft by many stone pillars which further obstructed my view of chamber and threw dancing, wraith-like shadows on the moist stone walls. The water was still present, shimmering in the light of my torch and a distant dripping could be heard. The walls that made up the perimeter of the room were lined with several alcoves which were elevated above the floor by at least a foot though what was noteworthy about these recesses were their contents as every single one of them had bones neatly stacked into them. Creating a morbid wall, almost cyclopean in appearance, from which the hollow eyes of many skulls peered out from. I had heard that many had used parts of the catacombs as ossuaries but had never seen them first-hand. I trembled as I walked about the room, the shallow water on the floor splashing with my every step as I was silently observed by my sightless spectators. At the far end of the room as a doorway in the shape of an arch and bordered by two ossuaries which held their skeletal sentinels. Beyond this threshold was a flight of stairs, choked by thick sheets of cobwebs, which lead up into a lugubrious void and with that: a potential path to the surface.

I know not how long I climbed but I had to rest at frequent intervals to catch my breath. The height of the climb was uncannily tall and called into question how exactly I had gotten down here. If I had been dropped down some chute like I had initially assumed, then the fall would have certainly killed me. Near the top of the stairs I was assailed with a sickening odor, far worse than the mold, a charnel and metallic stench like that of putrefied blood and I was met by a heavy wooden door. Strength had not yet fully returned to my limbs as a side effect of my binge and it took tremendous effort to push the door open, the hinges creaking and groaning while the timbers scraped the stone floor.

I was met with a wide passage, the walls of which looked as if they were entirely composed of yet more skeletons which had been meticulously arranged into patterns like some macabre mosaic which stretched from the smooth stone floor to the low-hanging ceiling. The horrible miasma was so thick in the tomb-air that I had to untie the sash from my waist and wrap it around my nose and mouth like a scarf, though this helped little. It was only then did I realize that whoever had hauled me down here had taken the liberty of relinquishing my cutlass from my custody, yet neglected to rid me of my pistol which I resigned to carry in my off hand. Traversing these tunnels proved quite difficult as they twisted and turned and intersected, all while I was scrutinized by the empty sockets which mockingly leered out at me. I began to panic and started to run through the halls, hoping that I'd chance across some hatch to the surface. My footfalls broke the sacred silence as I frantically searched for a point of egress until I stumbled on an uneven patch of floor and dropped my torch which was promptly snuffed out. I tried in vain to rekindle the dying embers yet no amount of blowing would revive it and I found myself plunged into blind darkness yet again.

I resorted to steadily walking with my hands outstretched, pawing at the intangible void to ensure I did not run head-long into a wall. I went on like this for some time, my hands occasionally meeting the dry surface of the tomb-dweller or cold, rough-hewn stone.

As I progressed, I found myself conscious that I could actually see my surroundings in some dim radiance. I had at first assumed that fancy had overtaken my vision until I realized that it was the faint glow of candles. The light grew brighter until I rounded a corner to be met with a wrought-iron gate, beyond which was another sepulcher quite similar to the one I had seen earlier. This one was free of water and lit by hundreds of candles which sat upon whichever surface could hold them, many where perched atop mountains of layered wax which had indicated continual use. I took this as a sign that I was nearing the surface and opened the gate, stepping into the warmly illuminated chamber. It was here where I also discovered the source of the malodor. There were no ossuaries in this undercroft but the parallel walls to my left and my right were lined with stone slabs, upon them were white shrouds, stained and moth-eaten, beneath which I could make out ghastly profiles of anthropoid forms. I dared not remove these grave-cloths as I was all too aware of what they were concealing. At the far end of the room was yet another archway which led to a short vestibule which was terminated with another door of heavy wooden planks. Above the doorway was an inscription which I could decipher as it was written in a curiously archaic hand which I had first thought to have been Hebrew yet with closer examination revealed certain characters and runes which looked out of place. My next assumption was Greek yet I still failed to see any familiar letters.

As I drew closer to the door, I grew conscious of an indistinct sound just beyond the hatch. It sounded first like soft weeping, gently echoing off the stone walls but as I reached for the great iron ring on the side of the door I began to make out syllables. As I pulled the door open, I could hear the sound more clearly as the stifled resonations of prayer. The room past the door was bereft of any ghoulish contents yet it still greatly unnerved me. Upon the floor in the center of this square room was a circular tile or slab set onto the floor, engraved upon its face was a seal or sigil made up by a seven-pointed star. At each point of the heptagram was a black candle, the flames of which did not react to the breeze generated by my movements. On the left and right side of the room each had a doorway. One had a short flight of stairs heading upwards whilst the other led to a dark room, barely illuminated by the shaft of light which spilled in from the chamber I was currently in and from which drifted the soft sounds of supplication.

I turned to the doorway on the left, hoping to ask whoever was speaking if they knew a way out of catacombs. I lowered my improvised bandana to make myself appear less suspicious and hid the pistol by my side. I approached the threshold and saw a figure resting upon its knees just beyond the light which issued forth from the doorway. I called out to the worshipper, yet they ignored me, simply continuing to whimper and pray under its breath in a harsh, gibbering voice. I made out the invocations were being spoken in a very archaic dialect of French which I had only heard men of the cloth us to speak to one another, assuming this was the sexton who oversaw the catacombs and called out again only for the caretaker to disregard me yet again. I had become frustrated at this point and began to enter the dark room.

I approached the kneeling figure just as my eyes began to adjust to the darkness and stopped. As my vision began to acclimate, I could see the worshipper in more detail. They were nearly nude, save for what appeared to be a pair of fur trousers, the skin on its back was saggy and wrinkled, accentuated by the bumps of the spine which ran down the middle. It did not kneel as much as it squatted upon the floor like the gargoyles atop the buttresses of Notre Dame. I reached out a hand to tap them on the shoulder and quickly drew it away in shock.

My heart nearly leapt from my chest as it turned to face me. As it did not turn its body to look around, rather its head swiveled over its shoulder at a freakish angle atop a neck which was far too long than should be natural. Its head was topped with greasy strands of black hair which hung in-front of its face, parted by a protuberant set of jaws which extended out from the rest of its gaunt face in a grotesque snout-like fashion. Without moving its head, it turned its body towards me and stood. Its skin hung loosely about its frame and closer inspection showed a mutated upper body like a man yet what I had initially assumed to be a set of pants were, in actuality, a pair of crooked legs covered in matted fur which ended in feet that were neither wholly hooves nor claws. The whole thing was horribly fantastical, like the mythical faun rendered in nightmarish clarity.

The thing then dropped low, like an animal stalking its prey and it outstretched its long arms which terminated in great taloned hands. I then saw something behind it from between its bestial legs. A twisted something which gleamed red in the light which could barely reach into the room. It slowly advanced towards me and I could hear more whispering in the darkness around me. I soon broke free of the restraints of terror and lifted my pistol to fire upon the thing, there was a thunderous crash followed immediately by high ringing which drowned out all other noises around me. The shot had hit its mark and the thing reeled back in agony, it must have screamed a great deal for its jaws parted wide to reveal rows of yellow teeth as it brought its had to its chest where the lead ball had pierced its abdomen and shattered its ribs.

However the crowning horror came when the flash from the muzzle illuminated the room for the briefest of instances which revealed several more of the tomb-fiends slowly creeping towards me, previously obscured by shadow, all issuing forth from a cavernous opening on the far wall.

I promptly turned tail and ran, screaming and wailing as I clambered up the stairs to be met with an iron door which I heaved open. Hope swelled as I felt the cool night air and saw the moon between the growing gap between the doorway and the plate of rusted metal but as hearing returned I could hear the creature's cloven feet clacking upon the steps behind me. With a tremendous effort I threw the door open and made my escape. I was greeted with dirt paths and moss-covered headstones as I realized I was in the Calvaire Cemetery in the Montmartre district. I looked back to see if my pursuers still followed and saw only a mausoleum with the door ajar and stair leading down into a yawning chasm with many sets of yellow eyes staring back at me.

I don't remember what happened after that, save that I woke up in a gutter somewhere in the Left Bank to a vagrant trying to steal my boots. It took me a while to rationalize what had happened that night, eventually coming to the conclusion that I must have overdosed and had been lying in that ditched all night, deep in a state of delusion as I frothed and spasmed. I took the whole fiasco as a sign to stop pursuing vice and I've since turned my life around after a stint at a sanatorium. After a long and grueling effort, I had broken the chains of dependency and freed me from my slavery to opium. I still work on the riverboats of the Seine but have since left the red-light district behind and eventually managed to get an apartment away from the Left Bank.

I still have nightmares of those apparitions and illusion conjured by opium and can still swear I see yellow eyes peering out at me from the storm drains. Yet the detail that haunts me the most is when I awoke in that ditch, my sash was still loosely tied around my neck and my pistol, which I had always kept primed and loaded was empty and the percussion cap was spent.

[poemoftheday]

Poem of the Day 14 May 2024

Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes

BY THOMAS GRAY

’Twas on a lofty vase’s side, 

Where China’s gayest art had dyed 

The azure flowers that blow; 

Demurest of the tabby kind, 

The pensive Selima, reclined, 

Gazed on the lake below. 

Her conscious tail her joy declared; 

The fair round face, the snowy beard, 

The velvet of her paws, 

Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, 

Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, 

She saw; and purred applause. 

Still had she gazed; but ’midst the tide 

Two angel forms were seen to glide, 

The genii of the stream; 

Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue 

Through richest purple to the view 

Betrayed a golden gleam. 

The hapless nymph with wonder saw; 

A whisker first and then a claw, 

With many an ardent wish, 

She stretched in vain to reach the prize. 

What female heart can gold despise? 

What cat’s averse to fish? 

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent 

Again she stretch’d, again she bent, 

Nor knew the gulf between. 

(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled) 

The slippery verge her feet beguiled, 

She tumbled headlong in. 

Eight times emerging from the flood 

She mewed to every watery god, 

Some speedy aid to send. 

No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred; 

Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard; 

A Favourite has no friend! 

From hence, ye beauties, undeceived, 

Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved, 

And be with caution bold. 

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes 

And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; 

Nor all that glisters, gold.

[mint-moon25]

RED - COACH - FLORIDA

BEST - TRAVEL

2 HRS - 5 MIN

FR - MIAMI - 2 - NAPLES FL

CAR - 2 HRS

LOOKING - AT - MAP - GOING - UP

2 - THE - L SIDE

NEAR - GULF - OF - MEXICO

NAPLES - FL

'MOST - BEAUTIFUL - CITY - OF THE

UNITED STATES'

'GOLF - CAPITAL - OF THE - WORLD'

MORE - GOLF - HOLES - THAN ANY

CITY - OF - FLORIDA

REAL - UGLY - CITIES

UGLY - MIAMI - RIVER

UGLY - MIAMI - FL

PEOPLE - ARE - MURDERING - 2 YES

STAY - THERE

MIAMI - DESCRIBE - IN- 1 WORD

'PIT'

THERE's - BBQ - PIT - OR - DO U

WANT - 'BRAD PITT'

EXACTLY

WE - CHOOSE - BETTER - PITS

CITY - OF - MIAMI - 'IT's - PIT'

RED - COACH

WILL - SHOW - YOU - WHEN - ITS

CHEAPER - JUST - B - CAREFUL

WHEN - COMING - BACK - AND

FORTH

YOU - MUST - CHECK - DATES

NOT - JUST - COST

NOT - SOPHISTICATED - WEBSITE

BUT - GOOD - ENOUGH

BUSINESS - CLASS

LARGEST - LEATHER - SEATS

USB - WI FI - 5 G

ELECTRICITY - PLUG

FRONT - OF - YOUR - SEATS

OTHER - SMALL - SEATS

BUSINESS - CLASS

LEATHER - AND - WIDE

MORE - LUGGAGE - ALLOWANCE

MORE - PRIVILEGES

FULL - RECLINE - REAL - NICE

INCLUDING - AT - MY WEBSITE

WANT - 2 - SHARE - HOW - I'M

GOING - BACK - AND - FORTH

2 - GET - MY - STUFF - FROM

STORAGE - UNIT

NAPLES - FL

NEW - APTS

HAS - BIKE - STORAGE - EA MONTH

OUR - STORAGE - UNITS

SET - PRICE

$75 - $250

UNLIKE - PUBLIC - STORAGE AFTER

2 MONTHS - FR - OVER - $79 - 2 YES

OVER - $82 - MEANING - EVERY - 2

MONTHS - INCREASING - PRICES

TIME - 2 - MOVE

TIME - 2 - PRAY - MORE

BIBLE - GOD - SAID - 'HE - WILL

RESCUE - US - ESPECIALLY - FR

JOBLESS - HOMELESS

HUNGER - AND THIRST

SO - CAREFUL - DATES - ARE

CORRECT - RED - COACH MY

CHOICE - MIAMI - 2 - FLORIDA

MORNING - 2 - GO - 2 - NAPLES

EVENING - COMING - BACK

6:45P - TO - 8:45P EST

2 HRS

PREMIUM - ECON - AND - BUS

CLASS - COMING - BACK - HAS

SAME - PRICE - $27.81

HOWEVER - LUGGAGE - MORE

WITH - BUSINESS - CLASS

I'M - VERY - HAPPY - WITH

OUR - NEW - WAY - 2 B - IN YES

PARIS - FRANCE - SOON - I'M

LISTENING - ALL - THE TIME

BEST - LANGUAGE - 2 KNOW

FOR - PARIS - FRANCE

I - LOVE - VANESSA LAU's

ASIAN - AMERICAN

SPEAKING - VOICE

TAKING - PRIVATE - SPEECH

CLASS WITH - MICROPHONE

2 - IMPROVE - SPEAKING - VOICE

DON'T - LIKE - MINE

GREAT - SINGER - BUT - HAVE TO

LEARN - 2 - CHANGE - HOW - ME

SPEAKS - TEACHER - ALSO - YES

GIVES - LANGUAGE - TRAINING

LIKE - YOU - TRAVELED - LIVE

TALKING - 2 - THEIR RESIDENTS

4:10A EST

FEMALE - HAIR - SHE - SHOWS

WHOLE - LONG - HAIR - BUT - IN

THE - MORNING - PONY TAILS

GOING - DOWN - HER - HAIR

THEY - SPOKE - REALLY LOUD

WOKE - ME - UP

SO - EVERYONE - FELL - INTO

DEEP - SLEEP

THEY - PLANTED - THEIR

FUTURE

OVERSEAS - WE - AT - GBC RADIO

FM - DIGITAL - GIVING - MANY - 2

AWARD - LOYAL - LISTENERS

GBC - FM RADIO

JESUS - IS - LORD

GOING - 2 - CLEAN

HEATER - OVEN - PINK

IN - RESTROOM - BOILED

WATER - 2 - MAKE EASIER

BUT - WOKE - UP - AFTER

6A - THEY - MADE - CERTAIN

WITH - LOUD - TALKING

EVERYONE - DEEPER - SLEEP

ARMOUR - VIENNA - BITES

TERRIBLE - TASTE - $1.25

FOR - THEIR - PIZZA

TOMATO - SAUCE

SPLENDA - 0 CAL - SUGAR

EVOV - EXTRA - VIRGIN

OLIVE - OIL

GARLIC - SALT - 0 CAL

SIMPLE - PIZZA - SAUCE

HAM - BACON - CHEESE

DIDN'T - FIND

PEPPERONI

GOING - 2 - RESTROOM - NOW

JESUS - IS - LORD - KOREA KR

[trainstojuniper]

Damned Women

Delphine and Hippolyte

The lamps had languisht and their light was pale; On cushions deep Hippolyta reclined. Those potent kisses that had torn the veil From her young candour filled her dreaming mind.

With tempest-troubled eyes she sought the blue Heaven of her innocence, how far away! Like some sad traveller, who turns to view The dim horizons passed at dawn of day.

Tears and the muffled light of weary eyes, The stupor and the dull voluptuous trance, Limp arms, like weapons dropped by one who flies — All served her fragile beauty to enhance.

Calm at her feet and joyful, Delphine lay And gazed at her with ardent eyes and bright, Like some strong beast that, having mauled its prey, Draws back to mark the imprint of its bite.

Strong and yet bowed, superbly on her knees, She snuffed her triumph, on that frailer grace Poring voluptuously, as though to seize The signs of thanks upon the other's face.

Gazing, she sought in her pale victim's eye The speechless canticle that pleasure sings, The infinite gratitude that, like a sigh, Mounts slowly from the spirit's deepest springs.

"Now, now you understand (for love like ours Is proof enough) that 'twere a sin to throw The sacred holocaust of your first flowers To those whose breath might parch them as they blow.

Light falls my kiss, as the ephemeral wing That scarcely stirs the shining of a lake. What ruinous pain your lover's kiss would bring! A plough that leaves a furrow in its wake.

Over you, like a herd of ponderous kine, Man's love will pass and his caresses fall, Like trampling hooves. Then turn your face to mine; Turn, oh my heart, my half of me, my all!

Turn, turn, that I may see their starry lights, Your eyes of azure; turn. For one dear glance I will reveal your love's most obscure delights, And you shall drowse in pleasure's endless trance."

"Not thankless, nor repentant in the least Is your Hippolyta." She raised her head. "But one whom from some grim nocturnal feast Returns at dawn feels less disquieted.

I bear a weight of terrors, and dark hosts Of phantoms haunt my steps and seem to lead. I walk, compelled, behind these beckoning ghosts Down sliding roads and under skies that bleed.

Is ours so strange an act, so full of shame? Explain the terrors that disturb my bliss. When you say, Love, I tremble at the name; And yet my mouth is thirsty for your kiss.

Ah, look not so, dear sister, look not so! You whom I love, even though that love should be A snare for my undoing, even though Loving I am lost for all eternity."

Delphine looked up, and fate was in her eye. From the god's tripod and beneath his spell, Shaking her tragic locks, she made reply: "Who in love's presence dares to speak of hell?

Thinker of useless thoughts, let him be cursed Who in his folly, venturing to vex A question answerless and barren, first With wrong and right involved the things of sex!

He who in mystical accord conjoins Shadow with heat, dusk with the noon's high fire, Shall never warm the palsy of his loins At that red sun which mortals desire.

Go, seek some lubber groom's deflowering lust; Take him your heart and leave me here despised! Go — and bring back, all horror and disgust, The livid breasts man's love has stigmatized.

One may not serve two masters here below." But the child answered: "I am torn apart, I feel my inmost being rent, as though A gulf had yawned — the gulf that is my heart.

Naught may this monster's desperate thirst assuage, — As fire 'tis hot, as space itself profound — Naught stay the Fury from her quenchless rage, Who with her torch explores its bleeding wound.

Curtain the world away and let us try If lassitude will bring the boon of rest. In your deep bosom I would sink and die, Would find the grave's fresh coolness on your breast."

Hence, lamentable victims, get you hence! Hells yawn beneath, your road is straight and steep. Where all the crimes receive their recompense Wind-whipped and seething in the lowest deep

With a huge roaring as of storms and fires, Go down, mad phantoms, doomed to seek in vain The ne-er-won goal of unassuaged desires, And in your pleasures find eternal pain!

Sunless your caverns are; the fever damps That filter in through every crannied vent Break out with marsh-fire into sudden lamps And steep your bodies with their frightful scent.

The barrenness of pleasures harsh and stale Makes mad your thirst and parches up your skin; And like an old flag volleying in the gale, Your whole flesh shudders in the blasts of sin.

Far from your kind, outlawed and reprobate, Go, prowl like wolves through desert worlds apart! Disordered souls, fashion your own dark fate, And flee the god you carry in your heart.

— Aldous Huxley, The Cicadas and Other Poems (NY: Harper & Bros, 1929)

[cool-naples-fl]

Pet-Friendly Apartments in Naples

The Marea Apartments is the best contemporary community known for its pet-friendly apartments in Naples. This apartment is currently offering contemporary residences with sunbathing beds, kitchens, large windows, and stylish interiors. The community features a pool, preserved views, a fitness center, a saltwater resort-style pool, individual workstations, meeting rooms, and a gourmet demonstration kitchen. Also, there are various floor plans available, such as this community offering two-bedroom apartments, a pool with reclining seats, lush landscaping, and a kitchen and living area with an island and natural lighting. Naples' warm environment makes it an ideal location for you and for your dogs to thrive, making it an ideal location for pet-friendly apartments. To book your tour, simply contact Marea Apartments at 239-208-5270.

What It's Like To Spend Living in Naples, FL

Living in Naples, FL, offers a luxurious and laid-back lifestyle. With pristine beaches, world-class golf courses, and upscale shopping and dining, Naples is indeed a paradise for those seeking a sophisticated and enjoyable lifestyle. I personally love Naples because of so many reasons. The residents of Naples can enjoy boating, fishing, and other water sports in the Gulf of Mexico for outdoor fun. It simply relaxes on the beach and soaks up the sun. Then, the city's vibrant arts and cultural scene, including art galleries, theaters, and museums, add to its appeal. Also, Naples's friendly and welcoming community makes it an ideal place to call home.

Naples Botanical Garden

The Naples Botanical Garden is a lovely and beautiful Garden with a 170-acre tropical paradise that showcases unique plants from Asia, the Caribbean, Brazil, and Florida. It features a Preserve, a birding tower, and an orchid garden. The Garden is a top-ranked attraction with a variety of year-round events, exhibitions, and daily activities for all ages. It is a friendly venue and offers free "Sensory-Friendly Saturdays" to minimize disturbances for visitors with autism and sensory processing needs. Service dogs are welcome, and wheelchairs and scooters are available for free or fee. ADA-accessible paths are also available throughout the buildings, cultivated gardens, the Preserve, and the birding tower. The Garden is just a short drive from Tampa, Miami, and Orlando and is only two miles from downtown Naples. For more details and seasonal hours, visit naplesgarden.org or call for more information.

Naples City Preserves Its Green Space

Naples City has recorded a 104.6-acre easement, which represents 84% of the 125-acre property at the former Naples Beach Hotel & Golf Club's golf course, to preserve green space in perpetuity. The collaboration between the city, Naples Beach Club, The Athens Group, and the nonprofit North American Land Trust has completed more than 600 conservation easements nationwide. The 104.6-acre easement was executed by Mayor Teresa Heitmann and Jay Newman of The Athens Group, a Phoenix-based developer. City Manager Jay Boodheshwar emphasized the effort required to ensure the process was right. The city has also awarded $23.4M for a pier rebuild and is working on a landmark land donation to preserve Naples's coastline.

Link to Map Driving Direction

Naples Botanical Garden 4820 Bayshore Dr, Naples, FL 34112, United States

Head west 348 ft

Slight left toward Bayshore Dr 338 ft

Turn left at the 1st cross street onto Bayshore Dr 1.6 mi

Turn right onto Tamiami Trail E 0.3 mi

Turn right onto Peters Ave 344 ft

Turn left  Destination will be on the right 171 ft

Marea Apartments 3350 Putney Ct, Naples, FL 34112, United States

[sealifewatersportsdubai]

Thrill-Seekers’ Guide to Dubai: Iconic Landmarks and Exhilarating Water Sports

The spectacular landmarks, fantastic nightlife, and enormous dune sea are frequently mentioned while discussing Dubai. This oasis in the Middle East has become a top spot for water and adventure sports in recent years. Dubai draws tourists, travelers, and adventure seekers from all over the world with its beautiful sea line. Extensive coastal infrastructure is on exhibit in Dubai, offering visitors a variety of exciting water activities. Explore a few popular water sports that appeal to amateurs, professionals, and players of all ages as we continue reading.

Jet ski Ride

In addition to being one of the best water activities in Dubai, jet skiing is also one of the most amazing ways to enjoy seeing the city. Enjoy this well-known water activity in Dubai from the Gulf Burj Al Arab and the Persian. On this jet skiing adventure visit, travel swiftly through the ocean near Dubai. It would cost you between 500 and 600 AED to ride a jet ski.

Parasailing

This activity is strapping yourself onto a saddle with a rope on a boat and a parachute toward one side, then ascending very high as the boat takes off. It’s a peaceful way to take in some breathtaking views that are up to 300 metres above sea level. You can decide to steer the boat as your pals lift off in the air after you’re back on dry land or in the water. Experiencing parasailing would run you between 400 and 500 AED.

Speed Boat Ride

An awesome way to get the whole family involved in Dubai’s water activities is with a speed boat trip. One of the most well-known water sports on Dubai Jumeirah Beach is the speedboat, which takes you on a tour of the Dubai oceanfront. The speedboat is a safe activity where up to 4 family members can participate together, providing an amazing shared experience that you will cherish forever! You will see the most significant landmarks in the city throughout the visit, and you will also take some amazing pictures. Depending on the length, a speed boat ride typically costs between 160 and 320 AED.

Flyboarding

Flyboarding is synonymous with phrases like high adrenaline, fast movement, and stumbles. Fly spouts shoot forth water with incredible force, propelling you up to 15 metres as you fasten your feet to a board and take off through the air. With some practice, you’ll be able to gently float above the water, and if you keep at it, you might find yourself flipping backwards like James Bond during a tomfoolery. Normally, flyboarding costs between 250 and 300 AED.

Wakeboarding

 It doesn’t seem fair to discuss water sports without mentioning wakeboarding. Wakeboarding is an aquatic pastime that involves maneuvering past a wakeboard and using cunning during the underlying lift; yet, once you’re out of the water, it quickly proves to be reasonably practical. The key to wakeboarding like a pro is to slightly recline while maintaining a straight stance. Riding a wakeboard will set you back roughly 300 AED.

Fly Fish Ride

Prepare for a good time by getting over an inflatable raft in the shape of an E that can hold up to 5 people. Experience the thrills of flying high up, swinging sideways, and arriving with a delightful spray on the water on this 15-minute ride that requires no prior knowledge and is safe for groups of (at least) two people. This ride delivers enjoyment unlike any other with the extra fascination of providing a view of the beautiful Dubai skyline! Life jackets and a brief safety lecture from the instructor are also provided during the ride. Around 180 AED will get you a fly fish ride.

Kayak Tour

A kayak tour is both educational and entertaining. Running on the water is enjoyable whether done alone or with a friend. This completely secure journey also enables you to take in the captivating vistas along Dubai’s coastline. Additionally, kayaking allows you to witness some of the city’s wildlife. You can access unusual locations with the kayak that are typically inaccessible to larger boats. For this one to a three-hour excursion, swimming is a requirement. A kayak tour lasts from one to three hours and costs between 100 and 150 AED.

These are just a handful of the water sports and adventure activities that will make your trip to the Dubai coastline enjoyable and provide you with a special experience. With Sea Life Watersports Dubai, you can elevate this experience. It provides its services at the Dubai Marina for a variety of water activities at affordable rates with an excellent team of instructors, trainers, and ride partners. Original Content copy by : https://medium.com/@sealifedubai/how-to-explore-the-dubai-iconic-landmarks-with-exhilarating-water-sports-b4bb5e0b334a

[miragespacenter]

Indulge in Opulence: Experience Luxury Spa Retreats in Dubai

Dubai, a city renowned for its opulence and extravagance, offers a plethora of experiences that cater to the most discerning of tastes. Amidst the towering skyscrapers and shimmering skyline lies a haven of tranquility and rejuvenation – the luxury spas in Dubai. Nestled within some of the most prestigious hotels and resorts, these spas redefine relaxation, offering a blend of traditional therapies and modern techniques in lavish settings.

Imagine being enveloped in the soothing scent of essential oils as skilled therapists work their magic to melt away stress and tension. From indulgent massages to rejuvenating facials, every treatment is meticulously curated to pamper both body and soul.

Step into a world of serenity and sophistication as you immerse yourself in the plush amenities and serene ambiance of Dubai’s luxury spas. Whether you seek a respite from the bustling city life or simply crave an indulgent escape, these sanctuaries promise an unforgettable experience.

Picture yourself reclining by an infinity pool, with panoramic views of the Arabian Gulf stretching out before you, or unwinding in a private suite adorned with decadent furnishings and tranquil lighting. Each moment is an invitation to surrender to pure bliss and luxury.

In Dubai, luxury knows no bounds, and the spa experiences are no exception. From exclusive treatments utilizing rare ingredients to bespoke wellness programs tailored to individual needs, every visit promises a journey of rejuvenation and renewal.

So why wait? Treat yourself to the ultimate luxury getaway and embark on a sensory journey like no other. Discover the epitome of relaxation amidst the glamour and sophistication of Dubai’s luxury spas.

[umaraheja]

Discover the Magic of Thailand with Elephant Trekking and Koh Kood Adventures

Thailand, a land steeped in cultural richness and stunning natural beauty, offers experiences as diverse as its landscapes. From the bustling streets of Bangkok to the serenity of untouched islands like Koh Kood, Thailand caters to every traveler's desire. While elephant trekking in Thailand might be a popular tourist activity, responsible sanctuaries are offering ethical interactions with these gentle giants.

Beyond the Stereotypes: Ethical Encounters and Unforgettable Adventures

Responsible tourism is becoming increasingly important, and elephant sanctuaries are leading the way in Thailand. These sanctuaries prioritize the well-being of the elephants, allowing visitors to observe and learn about these majestic creatures in a cruelty-free environment. You can volunteer at a sanctuary, assisting with their care and contributing to their conservation efforts.

A Journey Through Bustling Cities and Serene Temples

Thailand's vibrant cities pulsate with life. Bangkok, a captivating metropolis, is a sensory overload in the best way possible. Explore the maze-like alleys of Chatuchak Weekend Market, a shopper's paradise overflowing with everything from handcrafted souvenirs to mouthwatering street food. Immerse yourself in the rich history and architectural wonders of Wat Pho, home to the Reclining Buddha, a massive sculpture depicting the Buddha in a state of nirvana.

A Culinary Adventure for Every Palate

Thai cuisine is a symphony of flavors, exploding with sweet, sour, salty, and spicy notes. Savor fragrant curries like Massaman or Panang, indulge in the delicate stir-fried noodles of Pad Thai, or tantalize your taste buds with a bowl of Tom Yum soup, a spicy and sour broth brimming with fragrant lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves. From Michelin-starred restaurants to bustling street food stalls, Thailand's culinary scene caters to every taste and budget.

Beyond the Mainland: Unveiling Island Paradises

Thailand boasts over 1,400 islands, each with its own unique charm. Phuket, the largest island, offers a vibrant nightlife scene and stunning beaches for sunbathing and water sports. For a more secluded experience, head to Koh Lanta, where pristine beaches and laid-back vibes reign supreme.

Koh Kood Thailand: An Untouched Paradise

If you seek an escape from the tourist crowds, venture to Koh Kood, a hidden gem nestled in the Gulf of Thailand. This island is a haven for nature lovers, with cascading waterfalls hidden within lush rainforests, pristine coral reefs teeming with marine life, and secluded beaches fringed with swaying palm trees.

Cultural Immersion and Breathtaking Landscapes

Venture beyond the beaches to discover the rich cultural tapestry of Thailand. In Chiang Mai, the ancient capital of the Lanna kingdom, explore ornate temples like Wat Phra That Doi Suthep, perched atop a mountain offering panoramic views. Immerse yourself in the vibrant tradition of Loy Krathong, a festival where intricately decorated floating lanterns illuminate rivers and lakes throughout the country.

Thailand's Enduring Appeal

Thailand's magic lies in its ability to cater to every traveler's desires. Whether you crave bustling markets, serene temples, ethical wildlife encounters, or a luxurious escape on an untouched island like Koh Kood, Thailand offers an unforgettable adventure. So, pack your bags, embrace the warmth of the Thai people, and discover the wonders that await you in the Land of Smiles.

[allovertheworldblog]

All Aboard!, for all points West

I boarded the Sunset Limited train service, New Orleans to Los Angeles, on Monday 21st March 2011.

I knew the journey would take 2 days to take me the from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean.

I was looking forward to it. 

I had a reclining chair to sleep in, a fold out bed in a ‘roomette’ would have been about $500 extra.

During the day there was an observation car,

a dining car and a snack car to entertain the passengers and keep us occupied. 

It turned out to be an interesting experience if not a wholly relaxing one, given the somewhat confined nature of the train.

The trip was a couple of hours short of 2 days and five miles short of 2,000.

At 11.55 we set off from Union Station in New Orleans headed for Union Station in Los Angeles.

The trip would take across the southern belly of the United States, into Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and finally California.

As we leave New Orleans we climb high to get over the mighty Mississippi river. 

Announcements are made intermittently over the tannoy system. The usual kind of stuff, about the train, services available.

Most of the announcements are made at a reasonable level. The exception is Monika, the dining car attendant, who feels the need to almost shout over the tannoy.

She tells us that she’s taking reservations for dinner, breakfast, lunch etc.

She tells us that the service for such and such a time is available now in the dining car.

Each time she feels the need to almost shout the announcement.

In the afternoon we make a stop at New Iberia to let some passengers off.

A different voice comes over the tannoy, a man’s voice.

He isn’t shouty like Monika.

He says something in a low almost inaudible voice, before we pull off he says what sounds like 'eyeball Suzie’. Whatever can it mean?

A grizzled old Texan lady who has seen too much sun in her long life jokes with her friends that she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to sleep tonight because she won’t have the noise of the New Orleans trollies outside her window.

Before 18.00 the conductor comes over the tannoy and tells us that we’re crossing the Sabeen River and that we’re entering Texas.

We’ll be travelling across Texas for 24 hours, until we cross the Rio Grande.

Different times of the day afford different views, maybe a change in light, a change in landscape, different types of clouds.

Low fluffy clouds move quickly across the sky.

Higher up ones are more pulled out and stretched.

Then there are some dotted, dappled and even pointilistic ones.

The part of Texas we go through first off is pretty green. I guess it must be parched as hell in summertime. We pass some timber houses, some on stilts.

We go past China, Texas, where there are a couple of cows chewing the cud.

A big old evening sun signals the end of the day. 

The following days brings more of the same. The landscape has changed a bit though, it’s more parched. 

The conductor tells us about one of the places that we’re passing by. The town of Sanderson, where the Amtrak station closed 13 years ago, that doesn’t have a grocery store any more.

The nearest grocery store is 67 miles away.

The inhabitants call it 'paradise’ he tells us.

In the west Texas town of El Paso we come come parallel to the border with Mexico.

The houses in Mexico are so close to the border that we can almost see what’s on their dinner table.

In the middle of nowhere a man in jeans, white shirt and stetson is standing at a fence with 2 kids.

The guy looks like the Marlboro Man, a cowboy and a country singer all rolled into one. 

There could be more people on the train that the kids are waving at than they’d see in a week, a year even. 

We went past some real small places, places that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, places where the train doesn’t even stop any more.

Some volunteers from the National Park Service come on board to tell us about the flora and fauna of the state. 

We pull into Union Station in Los Angeles ahead of schedule at 08.15 on the 23rd March.

[houstonservice]

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[withbriefthanksgiving]

Image description for all 12 images:

Image 1: 2 fruit company ads.

Ad 1 is a cover of a booklet by Fruit Dispatch Co from 1928. It shows 2 anthropomorphised bananas. The first banana is shivering from the cold with a sad expression. The second banana is wearing a thick winter coat with a pleased expression. The text under this reads “how the right care of bananas will increase winter profits! Compliments of J. A. Trimble and Co, 123 E. third Street, Bethlehem, PA.”

Ad 2 is a United Fruit Company magazine ad from 1928. It shows 2 bananas on a table, with a banana dessert in a bowl with cream. In the background is a tropical scene of a hut on the beach with mountains in the background. The text reads “bananas served in crystal beauty.”

Image 2: a cropped 1916 ad for the United Fruit Company’s Great White Fleet. Text reads: The Great White Fleet. The Call of the Caribbean.

Image 3: a cropped 1916 ad for the United Fruit Company’s Great White Fleet. It shows 2 black toucans with gold beaks and an aerial map of the Caribbean and Central America, with the ship routes marked out.

Image 4: an ad for the United Fruit Company. It shows white/European people in bathing costumes on the beach. The text reads: Continue summer pleasures in Jamaica best reached by one of the perfectly equipped “Admirals” the Twin Screw US Mail steamships of the United Fruit Company. They afford the most delightful ocean trip of the winter months. Within 24 hours after leaving, you are in the warm airs of the Gulf Stream. Hotel accommodations in Jamaica satisfy every desire.

Weekly sailings from Boston and Philadelphia:

Round trip: $75

One way: $40

Steamers “Brookline” and “Barnstable” weekly from Baltimore:

Round trip: $60

One way: $35

Rates include meals and stateroom berth.

“A happy month in Jamaica” is a fascinating booklet we send on request.

Address: F. S. Jopp, General Passenger Agent, United Fruit Co, Long Wharf, Boston.

Or division passenger agents:

104 E. Pratt Street, Baltimore

5 N. Wharves, Philadelphia

321 St. Charles Street, New Orleans

Image 5: a full 1916 ad for the United Fruit Company’s Great White Fleet (which was partially shown in images 2 and 3). It shows 2 black toucans with gold beaks and an aerial map of North, Central and South America with the ship routes marked out for the Caribbean and Central America. Over the area of North America is an illustration of wealthy white people wearing the evening fashions of 1916, a sailor reclining on a deckchair, and several white men leaning against a railing on the deck. The text reads: The call of the Caribbean

- to health and happiness

- From the spacious deck of a Great White Fleet Ship, with the constant charm of the golden sunshine, the purple of tropical palms, and the welcome of a radiant sea

- The finest time of the year for rest and recreation amidst the romance and history of the Spanish Main.

You owe it to yourself to take that long promised vacation, now!

- a luxurious vacation aboard a palatial ship of the Great White Fleet.

Cruises from 16 to 24 days to Cuba, Jamaica, Panama Canal, Central and South America.

Sailings of the Great White Fleet

Ships from New York every Wednesday and Saturday, and fortnightly on Friday.

Sailings from New Orleans every Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday.

Delicious meals a la carte- included in price of ticket. Dainty outside staterooms, perfectly ventilated; wide decks for playing games. Efficient service.

Write for literature to: United Fruit Company Steamship Service, 17 Battery Place, New York.

Image 6: screenshot of the image source for image 5. Text reads:

United Fruit Company Steamship Service -1916A

Publication date: 1916

Topics: Advertising Art in Magazines, Travel and Transportation, Cruises, magazine covers, vintage magazines, advertising art, vintage advertisements

Language: English

Description: Totally evocative ad for the lure of the Caribbean cruise. Elegant passengers, exotic birds, and palatial ships that will take you everywhere. Map shown.

From the May, 1916 issue of Red Book.

Artist: [blank]

Source: Mariangela Buch.

Restoration by Mariangela Buch.

Image 7: a 1915 ad for the United Fruit Company’s Great White Fleet. Header reads: The Great White Fleet. Footer reads: United Fruit Company Steamship Service

On the left hand side, a white mother and her child sit on a deck looking at something pointed out to them by a sailor. Text overlaid the figure of the mother reads: “written for our new book “cruising the Caribbean”. A story, with illustrations, about the pirates, buccaneers and marooners of the Spanish Main: Sir Henry Morgan, Teach, “Blackbeard”, Lafitte, and others”.

In the top left hand corner, there’s an illustration of 3 men dressed up as 17th/18th century pirates, looking into a treasure chest.

The text under this illustration reads: “‘There the pirates hid their treasure’. - and every voyage, every port, every route of the Great White Fleet through the Golden Caribbean has the romance of buried treasure, pirate ships, and deeds of adventure - centuries ago.

Today health and happiness are the treasures sought on the Spanish Main, and the Great White Fleet Ships built especially for tropical travel bear you luxuriously to scenes of romance.

Cruises from 15 to 25 days to Cuba, Jamaica, Panama Canal, Central and South America

Sailings of the Great White Fleet

Ships from New York every Wednesday and Saturday, and fortnightly on Thursdays.

Sailings from New Orleans every Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday.

Passenger department: United Fruit Company Steamship Service, 17 Battery Place, New York.

At the bottom of the ad there is an aerial map of the Caribbean and Central America with the ship’s routes marked out, and the words “sailing under the American flag”.

Image 8: screenshot of the image source for image 7. Text reads:

United Fruit Company Steamship Service -1915A

Publication date: 1915

Topics: Advertising Art in Magazines, Travel and Transportation, Cruises, magazine covers, vintage magazines, advertising art, vintage advertisements

Language: English

Description: Ad for the Caribbean crusades of the United Fruit Company Steamship Service, with visions of pirates and gold, the Spanish Main, and the Great While Fleet. This last harks back to the American Navy's world tour of 1908-1909 in which the Great White Fleet notified the world that the US was now a naval power to be reckoned with.

From the December, 1915 issue of Hearst’s Magazine.

Source: Mariangela Buch.

Restoration by magscanner.

Image 9: screenshot from the Wikipedia article for The 1928 Banana Massacre. Text reads: “The Banana Massacre (Spanish: Matanza/Masacre de las bananeras) was a massacre of United Fruit Company workers that occurred between December 5 and 6, 1928 in the town of Ciénaga near Santa Marta, Colombia. A strike began on November 12, 1928, when the workers ceased to work until the company would reach an agreement with them to grant them dignified working conditions.”

Image 10: this is a closeup from image 6, which is a 1916 ad for the United Fruit Company’s Great White Fleet.

It is an illustration of 3 men dressed up as 17th/18th century pirates, looking into a treasure chest.

The text under this illustration reads: “‘There the pirates hid their treasure’. - and every voyage, every port, every route of the Great White Fleet through the Golden Caribbean has the romance of buried treasure, pirate ships, and deeds of adventure - centuries ago.

Today health and happiness are the treasures sought on the Spanish Main, and the Great White Fleet Ships built especially for tropical travel bear you luxuriously to scenes of romance.

Cruises from 15 to 25 days to Cuba, Jamaica, Panama Canal, Central and South America

Sailings of the Great White Fleet

Ships from New York every Wednesday and Saturday, and fortnightly on Thursdays.

Sailings from New Orleans every Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday.

Passenger department: United Fruit Company Steamship Service, 17 Battery Place, New York.

Image 11: screenshot text reads: “Dispatch from U.S Bogotá Embassy to the US Secretary of State, dated January 16, 1929, stated:

I have the honor to report that the Bogotá representative of the United Fruit Company told me yesterday that the total number of strikers killed by the Colombian military exceeded 1000.”

Image 12: an ad for Chiquita showing a perfectly shaped blemish-free yellow banana, partially peeled, revealing the perfect pale yellow banana flesh. The banana bears the blue Chiquita sticker. The text to the left of the banana reads: “Just a banana, it ain’t. Please, lady. Don’t go calling a Chiquita brand banana just a banana. Chiquita brand banana’s are our very own children. And nobody else’s children are quite like them. We grow them special, pick them special, and handle them special. We examine every inch of them. We measure them. We manicure the. We check them for plumpness, taste, and umpteen finicky little things you’d probably never even notice. They go through a lot to wear the Chiquita Banana label. They’ve earned their name. As for other bananas, okay. They’re just bananas.

Chiquita Brand Bananas.”

End of image descriptions.

Caribbean cruise vacations have a long violent history. Earlier today, I came across one of the early print advertisement illustrations for the Caribbean cruise ship vacations offered by “the Great White Fleet.” And I pondered bananas.

Just as uncomfortable as it sounds. The story of the origin of the Caribbean cruise industry is, after all, also the story of the origin of the term “Banana Republic.”

In 1914, the Great War began as the planet’s powerful empires of old were collapsing, as British, French, Austro-Hungarian, Ottoman, Russian, and Qing/Chinese powers were marred by internal revolt and global warfare. But in 1914, the United States completed their Panama Canal and consolidated power in Latin America and the Caribbean, celebrating the ascent of a “new” empire made strong, in part, by bananas.

As of 2022, bananas generate 12 billion dollars per year, with 75% of bananas exported from Latin America and the Caribbean.

The planet’s single biggest banana-producing company is Chiquita. The Chiquita brand was previously known as United Fruit Company, which had essentially monopolized the banana industry in Latin America. United Fruit Company has a bit of an image problem, following its theft of Indigenous land across Central America in the early 20th century; its role in provoking the killing of tens of hundreds/thousands of plantation laborers during the Banana Massacre of 1928; the company’s direct role in the CIA-backed toppling of the Guatemala government in the 1950s; and the company’s role in paying to harass and intimidate labor organizers in Colombia in recent decades.

But what of the “romance” and “adventure” of the Caribbean?

So it’s 1915 or 1916.

Middle of the Great War. Classic empires are disintegrating: Spanish empire, British empire, Austro-Hungarian empire, Russian empire, Ottoman empire, remnants of the Qing/Chinese state, etc. And whose empire is rising? United States, an empire expanding in the Caribbean, Central America, and South America. After the 1898 Spanish-US war, as Teddy Roosevelt’s cartoon cavalry conquered Cuba, the Spanish Main belongs to the US of A. The US Navy controlled the Caribbean Sea, and was aiming to expand across the Pacific Ocean, to Hawai’i and beyond.

But the official US Navy isn’t the only fleet upholding the empire. The United Fruit Company had its own fleet.

The text of one of these Great White Fleet ads, from 1916, adorned with imagery of a blue-and-gold macaw and an aerial map of the Caribbean, reads:

“[W]here winter never comes and where the soft trade winds bring renewed health. [W]ith all the comforts and all the luxuries of life you enjoy aboard the palatial ships of the GREAT WHITE FLEET. Delicious meals a la carte […]. Dainty staterooms, perfectly ventilated […]. [A]mid the scenes of romance and history in the Caribbean. And with it the opportunity to win for yourself a treasure of health and happiness, of greater benefit than the fabled fountain of youth, sought by Spanish adventurers in the tropic isles of the Spanish Main.”

Who’s leading the charge?

The United Fruit Company!

From the May 1916 issue of Red Book. Image source, from Archive dot org:

Another:

Image source, from Archive dot org:

“There the Pirates hid their Gold – and every voyage, every port, every route of the Great White Fleet through the Golden Caribbean has the romance of buried treasure, pirate ships an deeds of adventure […].”

The Golden Caribbean.

The same region where Columbus murdered Indigenous people, where the US and France had just spent 100 years punishing Haiti with unending economic warfare afters slaves rebelled against colonization, and where the United Fruit Company would now set up shop.

The company’s plantations would expand across Central America, establishing brutal racial hierarchies and essentially controlling federal governments of Central American nations.

In 1928, over 30,000 laborers were on strike at banana plantations in Colombia. They demanded payment of actual wages, rather than the credits they were given which were mostly only redeemable at company-owned stores in company towns. The US government threatened to send the Marine Corps to intervene if the “subversive” workers would not return to UFC’s plantations. In December 1928, after martial law had been declared, General Cortes Vargas entered the town square of Cienaga (Magdalena) during Sunday gatherings, with machine guns, opening fire on the crowds, and killing perhaps 3,000 people.

In the late 1940s, the United Fruit Company intensified its ad campaigns led by propagandist Edward Bernays (nephew of Sigmund Freud???), who also practiced his skill at manipulative advertising when working to popularize the American Tobacco Company by showing women smoking “torches of freedom” and linking “women’s rights” to cigarette iconography.

Bernays, who explicitly wrote about his “counter-Communist” intention in the ads, was “drafted” in the war to topple ascendant leftist governments. After 1944 and after Arevalo’s labor reforms, Jacobo Arbenz Guzman took control of Guatemala in 1951, and took over 200,000 acres from United Fruit Company and returned them to poor families. Bernays launched propaganda attacks against Guatemala, helping to plant stories about Guatemala eventually carried in the Saturday Evening Post, New York Herald Tribune, and Reader’s Digest. In January 1952, Bernays personally led a tour of Central America, accompanying publishers and editors of Newsweek, the Miami Herald, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Cincinnati Enquirer, Scripps-Howard, and Time magazine. When the CIA-trained military force led by Carlos Castillo Armas invaded Guatemala, with CIA aerial support, installing Castillo Armas as president, Bernays called them an “army of liberation.”

Bananas and Caribbean cruises aren’t the only culprits in expanding imperial power in Latin America, the tropics, and the Global South.

In 1914, the same year that the United States finished the Panama Canal and consolidated power in Latin America and the Caribbean, Richard Strong was a newly appointed director of Harvard’s new Department of Tropical Medicine. Strong was also appointed director of the Laboratories of the Hospitals and of Research Work at United Fruit Company. Strong toured the company’s plantations in Panama, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Honduras, and Cuba. In the coming years, Strong would also personally approach Harvey Firestone, chief executive of the Firestone company, which owned and brutally operated rubber plantations in tropical West Africa. Research in tropical medicine was thus inaugurated by and dependent on colonial/imperial plantations and racial/social hierarchies at United Fruit Company and Firestone sites across the tropical regions, planetwide. Strong is just one character that demonstrates the interconnectedness of academia, fruit plantations, rubber supplies, food distribution, motor vehicle industries, strike-breakers, military forces, imperial expansion, and other tendrils of violently-enforced racist power.

Today, in 2022, Chiquita maintains twenty thousand employees across 70 countries. 

I think about this as I eat a banana for lunchtime. I think about this when I see the Edenic portrayal of a Caribbean shore, a landscape baked not so much by the tropical sun but instead scarred by centuries of genocide, slavery, and plantation labor, where government officials gleefully report “with honor” on the massacre of thousands.

“Just a banana, it ain’t.”

Agreed.

[poemoftheday]

Poem of the Day 7 March 2024

Thomas Gray. 1716-1771

On a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes

TWAS on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed   The azure flowers that blow; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima reclined,   Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared; The fair round face, the snowy beard,   The velvet of her paws, Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,   She saw; and purr'd applause.

Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide,   The Genii of the stream: Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue Thro' richest purple to the view   Betray'd a golden gleam.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first and then a claw,   With many an ardent wish, She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize. What female heart can gold despise? What Cat 's averse to fish?

Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent Again she stretch'd, again she bent,   Nor knew the gulf between. (Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled.) The slipp'ry verge her feet beguiled,   She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry wat'ry god,   Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd: Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.   A Fav'rite has no friend!

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived, Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved,   And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;    Nor all that glisters, gold.