#he's the only one of the east blue crew who probably actually went to school (due to the dojo)

[human-enthusiast]

Absurd Person #1 - Monkey D. Luffy (kid)

 Let’s start with not only the main protagonist of One Piece but also the first character to give Luffy any sort of injury...

...his dumb, seven-year-old self...

*Disclaimer: I don’t own this image - screenshot from Episode of East Blue

The last time I wrote this, I forgot to hit save and my browser just reloaded the page and lost everything. After that I just went “I’m done” and rage quit Tumblr for the night (which I normally don’t do). That’s how my Sundays usually go😒🥴

Now Onward!

Basic Classifications

Real World Ethnicity/Nationality: Brazilian

Class: farm / country / lower class

Culture (the one he grew up around): Dawn Island - Sea-side village

Fishing community

Farming / Ranching community

Hard work ethic

Small and close community members; relatively friendly; little to non-existent conflict

Selective mix of being open towards strangers (especially with merchant vessels for better trading opportunities) and weariness towards those they expect to be harmful (likes Pirates; I’d imagine the people of Windmill Village were understandably unnerved with the Red-Haired Pirates first showing up).

Core values (personal to Luffy): pride, physical strength, adventures on and outside his home village,

Relation to authority: neutral - shifting slightly towards negative (no clear basis of opinion; can only go off on Luffy’s fascination with pirates as the main viewpoint)

(The added information feels a little scatter-shot but figured I give it a try based on little information from the manga panels and how it lines up with real-world similarities. Most information is based on logical speculation and could change with new information in later chapters.)

I know that the Romance Dawn arc consists of the chapters up until he meets Coby and Alvida (I think...), but the depiction of Luffy’s character in the first chapter seems different from when he is seventeen and setting out to sea. So, I’ll treat kid Luffy as a separate character for the first analysis.

First Impressions and Introduction

Now, I am an anime watcher, first and foremost, so my first impression of this character stems from the Anime. My introduction towards this ball of chaos was when he popped out of a barrel, that he put himself into after realizing that a whirlpool suddenly appeared (how he missed it? - It’s Luffy), and then inexplicably took a nap in. That was the absurd reason I was able to stick with One Piece in the first few arcs (until Baratie became one of the major reasons I stuck with it - I’ll explain why when we get there).

And since the first chapter was used for episode four in the anime, I was already somewhat familiar with how the story started and who Luffy was as a kid. However, reading the first chapter felt....different than what I would’ve expected. And because the anime cut out a few details from the chapter, there definitely are some things to take from kid Luffy at that point.

So my first impression was, as follows:

The kid is unhinged...That explains some things...

Complete wild child of a backwater village from Day 1. 

LIKE-- The anime episode DID NOT explain how he got that scar and the guy didn’t bring it up ever. To be fair, that wasn’t a big focus because the anime didn’t make it a focus. Reading that part though did more for his character and a little of his upbringing, through speculation, making it a rather slow-building but also fascinating introduction into this series.

Just a bit of an add-on, but if the manga introduced Luffy in the same level of neutrality as what the Anime did, It may not have fully made it clear if Luffy was going to be the main protagonist. Then again, it’s a shounen manga, maybe it was rather obvious to everyone else. Regardless, his introduction served to 

(1) Make his entrance memorable

(2) Establish his character that could either compare or set him apart from his teen self.

(3) Act as a sort of precursor towards the introduction of Luffy’s world and upbringing (which isn’t completely established until the last few arcs of Pre-Time Skip)

Personality

The best way I could describe Luffy at this point is a stereotypical kid...

Energetic, short-tempered, adventure-seeking, easily impressed, and ignorant...

That last description is actually something I brought up in a separate post about the “Fluid themes” of One Piece. Because I found that a small but overarching part in many (almost all) themes and world issues that One Piece reflects has some level of unawareness or apathy. Jimbe put it best during the Fishman Island Flashback when they found Koala (paraphrasing)

“They are afraid of us because they don’t know us.”

Know us referring to acknowledging them as people on the same level as humans.

Because of that and plenty of other instances from the East Blue, it can be a potential center for many characters who go up against or wish to explore the world and find that they are a frog in a well.

And that’s what kid Luffy represents. A rather aggressive frog in a well that wants out.

Granted, he is a seven-year-old, whose schooling has a closer equivalent to the 16th and 17th centuries of our world, living in what appears to be a farming community, so I’d imagine his education only focuses on at least the basic levels of reading/writing, mathematics, etc. A small, unexciting farming village probably has more concerns over their melon crops rather than what the world has going on. Adding in Luffy, you get a kid who dreams about being a pirate and adventuring outside the isolated village, making him avidly interested in a world he has no experience with. Or in a world he thinks is all fun and games.

That’s pretty standard for any child that has a mild and peaceful life. No doubt Shanks and his crew would tell him stories about their adventures. Not as a sort of attempt to make him a pirate, but because he was easily entertained by it, building up this expectation with stereotypical pirate personas. And whether he has his “destructive” tendencies before they became a fixture in Windmill Village, they definitely seemed to amp it up enough for Luffy to try and prove he was “man enough” to be a pirate at seven years old.

Then when you add in this idealistic expectation with the selfishness of a young child, it creates an opportunity to learn. Because, as any kid may go through, will find that their fantasy of the world won’t be what they expected, and will often react negatively. Luffy’s expectation of Shanks is that he is the strongest man worthy enough to be a pirate.

Now, Luffy’s view of a “real man” stems a lot from this stereotype of men solving their problems through fighting only. Which also embodies this rather damaging philosophy of never running away or backing down from a fight (which I refer to as stupid bravery - something that comes up in a certain other character).

The amazing thing about all the combined aspects of this kid is the ability to create a learning lesson for Luffy. Which can become a motivational factor in his pursuit as a pirate.

His easily impressed nature makes it known both when the Red-Haired Pirates talk positively about piracy adventures and when Shanks leaves the village. The difference between the moments can be showcased by the difference in determination and will to make an effort to achieve his dream. As he declared he wants to be King of The Pirates, he sets himself to work at it, rather than try and go with others.

How He Shapes the Story / World Around Them

I don’t know if anybody else made a similar connection (I wanna say someone DID but I can’t remember where) but in combination with Luffy’s general enthusiasm growing up hearing wild stories, his narrative reminds me so much of Don Quixote De La Mancha.

It’s been a while since I last read that story-- and by read I mean translate some paragraphs from Spanish to English during my Spanish I class in freshman year of high school. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the story. Part I entails an old man who, after indulging himself with various stories of knights and valor, decides he wants to partake in his own adventures. Under various delusions and misadventures, his story becomes a rather well-known one.

Don Quixote was called the first “modern book”. That was something my Spanish teacher mentioned regarding its acknowledgment by the world and always stuck with me. It was one of the first stories of the early medieval period to focus on a regular man. Other stories before this tended to be about legends, gods, demigods-- individuals who often were referred to as legends because they were born into high status (often above humans). Either through original texts (often for religious purposes) and then through varying interpretations (such as the Arthurian Legends), these tales were a part of the status quo.

Kid Luffy is a person that reflects so much of the Don Quixote story (And not just because his village has windmills-- the most iconic scene about the knight’s story). He is that simple, normal boy that longs for his own adventures when there seemingly is already a well-talked-about story about someone who achieved infamy. In place of that is a man named Gold Roger whose execution we see in the manga’s opening. At this point, we don’t have much understanding about how it impacts the world as of yet, we just know it is setting up for something significant to the story.

Luffy becomes that “regular” person from a small-town with big expectations for a grand adventure.

That perspective can slowly build into the story by starting in a simple setting with a character going through one of the first dynamic changes in his life. Luffy’s experience with Shanks’s sacrifice sets a course in his own adventure. A story that trails into a rather bonkers adventure at the end of chapter 1.

His development is what shaped his world. It’s the way he learns when as it stems from the consequences of his actions. Especially ones where the smaller ones turn out to be very costly, making it a hard lesson that ingrains into the young kid. His actions created by his old ideologies sparked an intense reaction in the people around him. Especially Shanks, who felt he was worth losing an arm towards.

How The WORLD Shapes HIM

So, for the sake of the fact that kid Luffy’s “World” in Chapter 1 mostly consists of Windmill Village, I’m adding in Shank’s and his crew’s influence to extend and further give credence to his influence. Because, as of this point, Shanks represents a glimpse into the life of a pirate that Luffy strives for.

With Luffy being in a quiet environment all seven years of life, there is growth through basic schooling and healthy child development (theoretically since Makino seems to be the most likely one acting as his guardian), instead of doing things outside that norm. Now Shanks is the odd factor that creates new development into Luffy’s dreams and future ambitions. 

The crew’s stories, charisma, and connection towards the kid actively (and probably unintentionally) created a positive expectation if he chose to pursue his dream. While that sounds inspiring, there were also negative aspects. Such as driving his ignorance and impatient nature to seek it out too early in his life.

Shanks then became a mediator. Luffy often has mixed feelings with Shanks as the man begets a level of encouragement while verbally making fun of Luffy for being a kid constantly. Despite that, it doesn’t completely deter Luffy’s ambitions. All it does is slowly drop his high expectations in Shanks after the first bar incident. This is again done by his childish outlook of physical strength and bravery equating to his ideal of a real man.

With Higama, Luffy learns about real-world dangers, and how bravery won’t always be enough to win battles. The same can be said for physical strength but at that moment it doesn’t apply to Luffy. 

Shanks’ and the crew’s involvement helped Luffy’s views change. His expectations are fulfilled, which in turn reveal that he was wrong about them.

Finally, seeing Shanks’ sacrifice unfold drove Luffy into a pang of newfound guilt. By then, he was able to change one part of his world views from a childish fantasy into the beginnings of a mature way of thinking. 

He gains some level of patience. Along with a set goal to work with. Attributes which are identifiable with Luffy in the chapters last few panels.

Patience = Luffy took time to train and learn to set sail at age seventeen.

Set goal = Be King of the Pirates

Add-Ons

When I say that kid Luffy, after Shanks’ sacrifice, gained a level of patience, it is meant as a deduction during that chapter. By no means am I insinuating that it became a permanent trait for his character. Because as of chapter 1, all of Luffy’s personality has yet to be revealed.

And this will apply to other posts for various characters. They may behave in ways during or in response to a particular event but it doesn’t necessarily equate to that becoming a whole personality trait. Calling Luffy patient, with having full acknowledgment of his personality during the bulk of One Piece, is completely off. But, there can and will be moments where Luffy will act patient when he deems it necessary.

This is a little hard to articulate but I hope it makes enough sense.

🏴‍☠️🐒

After-Notes

Here’s my first attempt at this analysis. It felt scattered even after editing everything. Breaking down characters sounds easy (and most times it is) but articulating and connecting things takes a lot of work.

Here's to hoping it gets easier with the next character. And maybe shorter paragraphs.

Up Next: Shanks (East Blue)

[dazzledbyrob]

NEW INTERVIEW WITH ESQUIRE UK

Robert Pattinson’s Darker Materials

Three years since he last met Esquire, Robert Pattinson remains dedicated to redefining himself as an expressive actor beyond the teen-hero hysteria of his early career. In his new film, gritty heist thriller Good Time, he finds redemption as a cold-hearted criminal and achieves the almost supernaturally impossible — walking around New York unrecognised

When he was shooting his latest movie, Good Time, in Queens last year, Robert Pattinson would start the day with a run. And he’d be recognised, as always. Such is life for the 31-year-old actor formerly known as Edward Cullen, the broody vampire in the Twilight movies. Over five years and five films, he inspired such a vast and hysterical following that more than any star of his generation he became a prisoner of his own celebrity. He was forced to sell his home in Griffith Park, Los Angeles, because of paparazzi at the gates. They trailed him everywhere, entailing all kinds of Jason Bourneism, like swapping clothes with friends and assistants in restaurant bathrooms, sending them off in decoy cars, up to five at a time. And if he failed, if just one tweet went out with his location, then armies of paps and Twi-hards, crazed and shrieking, would come galloping over the horizon like the Dothraki hordes.

But after each run, something extraordinary happened. He got into costume as his character in Good Time, Connie Nikas, a Greek-American criminal from Queens, and just like that, the staring stopped. He could walk down the street unmolested. This latest film is his best performance by some distance, an electric, adrenalin shot of a movie that will establish him as one of the most vital actors of the day, so there’s that. But this gift of anonymity may be equally precious. Good Time will put Pattinson’s name in lights while simultaneously helping him blend into the background. Shooting it gave him his life back. It’s handed the prisoner a set of keys, because as Nikas, Pattinson could move through the world again. He was free.

“It was amazing. Invisibility cloak,” he says. “I’ve always wondered what can you do, just a simple thing to your face so you can just… exist in the world. And now I know. Darken your beard and put on these acne scar things and people will look directly into your face, and not even a glimmer. It’s fascinating. Also earrings, there’s something about fake diamond earrings.”

He looks a bit Connie Nikas today, actually. We’re in a booth at a private member’s club in West Hollywood, and he’s wearing a sports jacket on top of a hoodie, never mind that this is the height of summer. The jacket’s Lacoste; very hipster I tell him. And he laughs.

“Is anyone not a hipster now? I think it’s just normal culture,” he says. “Anyway, I found this on eBay so, you know… I’d be cool if I had it from school, like, ‘I’ve had this for aaages. I still dress exactly like I did when I was 12.’ Ha ha ha!”

He looks happy, energised, garrulous. The hands move around, the Lacoste rustles, he’s chewing on a toothpick and tipping his head back to laugh and laugh. He looks like a guy who made a bet on himself and won, which he did. And this is what he’s here to tell us: chase what you want in life, take the risk, who cares what people think in the end. This is your life, not theirs.

The last time I saw Pattinson for Esquire, three years ago, he’d only just made that bet. He came over to my house for lunch, and we got the barbecue going, there were beers — things celebrities never do — and we talked about The Rover, a film he made with director David Michôd (Animal Kingdom). It was his first major step on the route away from Twilight and towards Good Time, a life that he actually wanted. He’d made a pact with himself to only pick roles that were unlike anything he’d done before, that would broaden him as an actor and human being, and to work only with film-makers he loved, with no compromise. So post-Twilight, his CV is just one auteur after the next, in a string of movies that don’t make money but are always compelling. Besides The Rover, there’s his second film with David Cronenberg, 2014’s Maps to the Stars; The Childhood of a Leader directed by his friend Brady Corbet; The Lost City of Z with the film-maker’s film-maker, James Gray, not to mention the Safdie brothers, Josh and Benny, who made Good Time.

Back in 2014, he was living next to rap impresario Suge Knight in a gated community on Mulholland Drive, still in hiding from Twilight fans. It was a secluded life, with just an inflatable boat and an assistant for company. “Aww, I miss my assistant,” he says. “He’s now a real estate agent in Phoenix. Couldn’t take it any more. 'All you do is play video games!’” Most of Pattinson’s time was spent in one room, watching films and reading books, much as it is today.

“Probably my fondest memory from that house is watching the first three seasons of Game of Thrones over four days.” He laughs. “So lame that’s my fondest memory!”

He dreamed of escape. #Vanlife on Instagram became an obsession, posts celebrating the nouveau hippy world of attractive young surfer types living the free-spirit life in camper vans, free of all material possessions beyond a hammock, a book of poetry and a mobile phone to upload selfies to madden people in cubicle offices.

“I nearly did it,” Pattinson says. “I was 100 per cent going to live in a van, but not just any van — a stealth van! It’s a special niche, not like living in a trailer. Stealth vans looks like a normal Transit van, so you can park on the street, put signs on saying you’re a plumber or whatever and no one would notice.”

Van life promised anonymity, freedom, mobility: all the things he missed and wanted.

“It’s that thing, where you can just leave in the middle of the night and, like, drive to Nebraska,” he says. “And with solar power, you’re totally off the grid. I’d love that so much. And I was like, I’m still young, this is my chance…”

So he looked into it. The Mercedes-Benz Sprinter looked tidy; it had a toilet and shower in the back. But no.

“The Sprinter’s too fancy. It draws attention. So I visited different companies to retro- fit Transit vans but it’s complicated,” he says. “Once you build [in] a toilet and shower yourself, you can’t get it insured and blah blah blah.”

Still, he hasn’t ruled it out. One day, maybe. For now, though, instead of Nebraska, he moved five minutes down the road, to another secluded mansion in the hills. Only this time it’s not quite such a Spartan existence. He lives with “Twigs”, aka FKA Twigs, the British singer, and their little dog Solo. He won’t talk about her, though they may be engaged after three years together. And one can’t blame him; the Twi-hard fanbase has already subjected her to a torrent of racist abuse. Which is partly why they spend half their time in London, out east near Hackney Downs (hipster level: high). Pattinson gets hassled much less back home. “I go around on my bike,” he says, “so I’m basically a ghost.”

He was deep into #vanlife when he saw a still from the Safdie brothers’ movie of 2014, Heaven Knows What. It was just a close-up of the actress Arielle Holmes in a pink/blue light, her eyes sunken and strung out as if on heroin; she was playing a homeless junkie, a life she’d led until Josh Safdie approached her in a Manhattan subway and asked to make a film about her. The realism was palpable. And Pattinson was hooked at once: he had to work with these people.

“It was so cool, this photo, it had an amazing vibe, but also they’re American. Normally with an image like that, the director turns out to be Czech or something,” he says. “And my agents hadn’t heard of them either, so I knew I’d found something before anybody else.” This is what Pattinson loves more than anything — making discoveries.

Without even seeing the movie, he wrote the Safdies an email rich with compliments, a tried and tested ploy. “I basically say, 'Look, I’m not playing. I like very little and I like this thing you did, I think you’re good, and I just… know!’ And after that I call repeatedly.”

He’s done this with James Gray, with acclaimed French film director Claire Denis (who’s writing and directing his next film High Life). It’s a winning strategy. “I realised about four years ago, this is the best way to do it. I don’t even tell my agents.”

At first, Josh Safdie was hesitant. He was working on a movie about New York’s diamond district and Pattinson just wasn’t right for it. But they clicked, and once they met up, Josh saw something: “He has a wounded war veteran vibe to him, like there’s a major trauma in his life and he’s constantly trying to hover, trying not to be seen. I thought that was perfect for a guy on the run.” So the Safdies created a project for Pattinson, essentially writing him a movie.

“The thing about Josh and Benny,” Pattinson says, “is their energy and drive. It’s astonishing. And that’s how their movies feel, like there’s too much fuel in the car! I wanted that energy, something superkinetic. A lot of the stuff I’d done before was reactive, so I wanted to be forced into a situation. That’s their tone: runaway train. Their genre is literally panic. And that’s kind of who I am as well. So I said, 'Just push push push, be as audacious as possible.’”

The story centres around Connie, a sociopathic street criminal who can’t stand the thought of his mentally challenged brother Nick — played brilliantly by Benny Safdie — being institutionalised. So Connie takes him on a bank robbery, the first of several terrible decisions, each one cascading chaotically into the next. It’s a film that seizes you by the lapels and doesn’t let go for 100 minutes.

Unlike anything else he’s done, Pattinson was involved throughout the writing process. He was in the jungle in Colombia at the time, making The Lost City of Z, a gnarly experience by all accounts: he has stories of picking maggots out of his beard, and crew members being bitten by snakes. But at the day’s end, he’d find a volley of emails (there’s wi-fi in the Amazon, apparently) from the Safdies about Connie Nikas, about criminals, about the world of their movie.

They worked together painstakingly on Connie’s backstory, and Robert read all the books the brothers were inspired by, The Executioner’s Song by Norman Mailer and In the Belly of the Beast by Jack Henry Abbott. He watched the documentaries they sent over, notably One Year in a Life of Crime (1989) by John Alpert, and episodes of Cops, the Nineties reality TV that featured police chasing down and arresting a whole menagerie of street criminals. Josh calls it “America’s greatest TV series”. There would often be dialogue or behaviour that would be useful in building Connie Nikas. By the time Pattinson was ready to move to Queens, he was already halfway there.

Pattinson doesn’t do method; he’s more or less untrained, apart from a short stint in the Barnes Theatre Company aged 15. The Safdies introduced him to a new level of improvisation and research. They had Robert as Connie writing Nick letters as though from prison. Then they went on a tour of the Manhattan Detention Complex.

“Rob came as Connie, but he didn’t have the accent yet so he just looked around and kept to himself,” says Josh Safdie. They met people that Connie might be friends with. “My friends at Lucky’s Automotive Repair in Yonkers, basically. We started bringing Benny in as Nick then.” And from there, Rob and Benny took their characters out into the world, going to Dunkin’ Donuts, even working at a car wash together for a week.

“We had Nick drive the cars off after they went through,” says Benny. “But Nick has issues. He can’t do what Connie wants him to, so there was tension between them, it almost got violent. And that’s what we wanted. We wanted to give Rob a history of the emotions he would feel in certain moments.”

Critically, though, no one clocked Pattinson through all this. The car wash manager knew who he was, but no one else did, and they didn’t ask. It was a revelation. As Connie — with the clothing, hair and makeup — Pattinson could go unrecognised to such a degree that when they shot a scene toward the end in an apartment block, local residents didn’t even see him as an actor. They knew a movie star was in their midst but had heard it was Bradley Cooper.

“So, I was in this packed elevator and people were like, 'Yo, you like Bradley Cooper’s security guard?’ It was amazing,” Pattinson says. One of the joys of Good Time is remembering just how different Robert and his character Connie actually are. Pattinson is from south-west London, where he went to The Harrodian, a nice public school in Barnes. The son of a vintage-car salesman father and a model-booker mother, he grew up middle class and comfortable, an artistic type who set out after a music career (his band’s name: Bad Girls) before acting won out. He never came across characters like Connie Nikas in real life, so he imagined them; they were “fantasy figures”, as he calls them. And as such, no less influential.

“Growing up, you see Pacino and you want to be that,” he says, and then laughs. “I sound like a dick already, comparing myself to Pacino!”

But the point is sound; to Pattinson, Connie falls into the tradition of Pacino’s Sonny in Dog Day Afternoon, or Robert De Niro’s Johnny Boy in Mean Streets, the very characters who inspire people like Pattinson to become actors in the first place. Like all middle-class kids, he craved Connie’s authenticity.

“Everyone wants to say, 'I’ve gone through hardships’ or whatever. And some kids at school got so obsessed with looking tough that eventually they just were. They were mugging people. It’s like, 'Why are you mugging people? You live in Wimbledon!’ But you could see the progression,” he says. “It was born out of desire, not necessity. It’s fascinating.”

As for Pattinson, he just lied.

“I decided the best way to be real is to fake it! I used to lie all the time when I was younger. Like even though I had a London accent, I’d tell people I grew up on a farm in Yorkshire. That was about as gritty as I could pull off.”

His own life of crime was limited to stealing porn mags, aged 11, a story he told US shock jock Howard Stern. Eventually, he was caught, of course, the moment of humiliation seared into his memory as, in front of a line of old ladies collecting their pensions, the shop owner reached into his bag and pulled out one jazz mag after another.

“I turned on the tears and everything. I was desperate!” he says. “And when my mum heard, I totally threw one of my friends under the bus: 'Dan did it!’ It’s pretty terrifying when you’re backed against the wall. When people ask how would you behave in an emergency, now I know. I’m a wimp! I guess that’s pretty obvious!”

He says wimp, but there’s a quiet strength behind that self-effacing, affable front. Not everyone would confess to being a cowardly kid, or lying about their background, as insecure people don’t admit their flaws so freely. One of the reasons he was so drawn to the role of Connie, for instance, was the character’s lack of fear or shame. “I’m the opposite. Shame is the most crippling thing. I don’t even know what it is, it’s not connected to any other emotion. So I choose work to directly combat elements of my own personality.”

Josh Safdie spotted Pattinson’s ambition early on. “There’s a mania to him,” he says. “A manic desire to conquer the world. I was very happy to see it.”

And for all his self-deprecation, there’s a pride there in what he’s achieved post-Twilight. None of his subsequent film choices are obviously commercial, which suits him perfectly: low-budget indies, he says, have a lower bar to break even and with his international stardom, courtesy of Twilight in no small part, he can usually rest easy. Sometimes, his involvement is what makes these projects actually happen.

But artistically — and this is where he’s definitely not a wimp — every project is a risk, a test, a leap, yet another opportunity to fail and land very publicly on his arse. But that’s just how he likes it. The nerves, the threat of failure keep him interested.

“I like a big mountain to climb,” he says. “Some parts no one would think of me for, and I don’t blame them.”

Why go for those roles though, if they’re so against type? He shrugs.

“Probably just to prove I can, really.”

As the bill arrives for our meal, Pattinson chomps merrily through another round of toothpicks. It seems he’s been entirely sensible this time around. Not even one beer. “If I drink I’ll sound like a cock,” he says. “Actually, I probably sound like a cock already!” Anyway, he’s saving room for a cognac tasting later tonight with the Good Time producers. Not the kind of thing he does that often but these are heady times, what with the excitement around the movie, the critical acclaim. It’s such a buzz that even the press tour isn’t so painful. There’s room for some mischief at any rate.

On Jimmy Kimmel Live!, he tried to make fun of Josh Safdie but it came out wrong. He told Kimmel that Safdie had asked him to jerk off a dog. “It got [animal charity] Peta angry… everyone. It was like a whole American uproar for a day-and-a-half,” Josh says. “He’s a little shit, I promise you. But I love that about him.”

For the most part, though, Pattinson leads a fairly quiet life. It’s just him, Twigs and Solo kicking around at home. When he’s not working, he says, he’s looking for work.

“I’m basically flicking through the pages of Loot every day. I live the life of an unemployed person.” And for him that means watching art house movies, trawling film-geek websites and — so long as Game of Thrones isn’t on — cold-calling directors.

In a couple of weeks, he’s off to Germany for cosmonaut training for the movie he’s making with Claire Denis. It’s about another ex-con, this time in space as part of a human reproduction experiment. He mentioned it in a Q&A session in LA after a screening of Good Time, and no one in the audience had heard of Denis. Such is Pattinson’s particular taste.

“I don’t think Claire has made a bad movie in, like, 20, but I don’t know if any have been commercially successful!” he laughs. “That’s what it’s like in France. There’s a market there for less conventionally commercial movies, and that’s the world I want to be a part of. I just want to do stuff that people are only making for themselves, because it ends up being, by definition, more singular.”

The project that has him excited comes at the end of the year: The Devil All the Time, by Antonio Campos, who made Christine last year, a brilliant drama about a depressive Seventies news anchor in Florida. (For the record, Pattinson cold-called him too.) “There’s this line in it — and sometimes that’s all you need. And it’s like, 'Ooh… that’s scary to say’. Because it’ll go down in posterity and I’ll be the one saying it. You literally cannot get darker. It’s fucking dark. This character is an evangelical preacher in the South in the Fifties, but he’s gleefully bad and kind of funny and charismatic too. I know, it’s irresistible.”

Like, sexually repulsive, violent?

“Mmm… yes, all that. But you know when actors say, 'I refuse to play someone who does something bad.’ I’m, like, why? That’s fucking crazy. You can’t do anything bad in your real life. I think if someone needs to play a hero all the time, it’s probably because they’re doing really gross stuff in their real life.”

So you’re telling me, this is the only chance you get to be bad?

He laughs, and gets up to put on his Lacoste jacket, his camouflage, and flips up the hoodie underneath. Now he’s safe to leave our meeting without causing an incident. But it’s impossible now not to see shades of Connie, the sociopath bank robber from Queens.

“Yeah,” he grins. “The rest of the time, I’m an angel!”

Good Time is out on 3 November

[writing-ideas-inc]

Northern Downpour

I set my brush down as I added the final touches to the props. “There, all ready for play night…” We were doing the Little Mermaid, and I was part of props- mainly making them. The last few hours of my time were devoted to adding finishing touches to various backdrops.

My phone gave a shrill ding several feet from me. It was a text from Edlyn. Hey, Ailsa! Where you at?

Sorry, I got caught up working. I’ll be out in fifteen or so minutes. Putting my phone back in my pocket, I noticed how colorful I had become. Deep purples and light blues were spattered and smeared on my arms next to fiery reds and blazing yellows. Knowing myself, there would be a myriad of colors on my face too.

I closed the paint tubes and washed the paint brushes, putting both away. The backdrop was left laying out so it could dry properly.

After a moment admiring my work, I flicked the lightswitch off and stepped out of the art room. Edlyn would be waiting at the front doors for me, and that was on the other side of the school, so I got walking.

The shortest route to the front of the school was through the music commons. Naturally, that’s the path I took. No one was usually there at this time, since school was let out about an hour ago. So when I heard a guitar and singing coming from one of the rooms, I was surprised. I must say, though, that whoever was sing was good. With all the stealth of a ninja, I crept closer to the partially ajar door from which the melody was coming from.

“... is running toward the page, it’s chasing off the days.” It sounded like Shinoa, our Korean-Japanese student responsible for helping with the music. He was two years older than me. “Looking at both feet and that winding knee, I missed your skin when you were east.” I peeked through the crack in the door. His back was to me, but it was definitely Shinoa. “You clicked your heels and wished for me.” He had such an enchanting voice…

I moved and leaned against the wall, just listening. No thoughts were in my head, as though the singing pushed them out. If breathing wasn’t such a basic bodily function, I probably would’ve forgotten to do that too. His voice was just so… Captivating...

As the song came to the last few verses, my phone went off again, and I hadn't put it on vibrate after leaving the art room. The singing stopped abruptly as he stopped strumming, the last chords hanging in the air before dying into nothing. I dashed away from the door and to the front of the school, not looking behind me. Edlyn was waiting there for me.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. “It’s been twenty-five minutes already!”

“S-sorry…” I panted. It had been awhile since there was need for me to run that fast that quietly. “Lo-lost track of… Time…”

Edlyn eyed my doubled over figure. “Why were you running?”

I caught one of our reclusive, rarely-talks, classmates singing and I kinda forgot about the world. “Cleaning took longer than I thought…” She wasn’t particularly convinced by that, but it would have to do. Edlyn would call me crazy otherwise.

We both walked home, splitting at what was about the halfway point for both of us. I lived in a cozy two bedroom apartment with my mother- who worked a twelve hour shift starting at 8:30 AM- and older brother, who was Prince Eric in the play. Thinking about it, he was one of the few people Shinoa talked to…

“Hey Sis. Good day at school?” Dustin looked at my paint smeared arms. “Finish the backdrops?”

I popped the door open to our shared room and plopped my backpack and shoes near the door, then came back out to the living area. “It was a decent day, and yes.” Next stop was the bathroom, where I took one of the tattered washcloths and put soap and hot water on it, cleaning my arm. “Caught someone in the Choir room singing on the way out.”

By now Dustin was standing in the doorway watching me as I finished up cleaning my arms. “Who in their right minds would still be at the school and hour after the day was finished?” I shot him a look as I dried my arms. “Other than you, of course.”

“Your buddy Shinoa, apparently,” I said. My brother paused, then nodded. We both went back to the living room.

“What was it he was singing?”

I thought back to standing outside the room. The memory was blurry, even though it wasn’t that long ago. “Uh… Northern Downpour by Panic! at the Disco, I think…” It took Dustin a moment to remember the song, but he eventually did nod.

“Sounds like him alright.”

I tried to ask more about what the aloof foreign boy was like, but most of my questions were met with a shrug, “Dunno,” or “You’d have to ask him.” After five minutes of dead end questions, I gave up. There were better things to do with my time anyway, like do homework and read…

***

The curtains closed, and the full cast came off the stage. Everyone from backstage was waiting to congratulate them, which is exactly what we did. I found Dustin and gave him a hug, and told him to grow a pair and ask out the girl who played Ursula, Roxanne. He rolled his eyes as Shinoa came over, giving my elder brother a high five.

“Great job out there, man.” As per usual, his voice had a heavy Korean accent. Unlike when he sang in English, actually… “I’ll still have to say that that play is wildly inaccurate.”

Dustin chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve said.”

My curiosity was peaked, to say the least. “How do you know it’s inaccurate?”

“Uh, well…” Shinoa’s mouth opened and closed several times before any more sound came out. “Greek mythology dictates that mermaids sink ships, not save the humans on them… They’re closely related to sirens, actually.”

I nodded slowly. “Guess you have a point there.”

Our conversation didn’t get a chance to progress any farther, as the director called for us. The cast and crew gathered around him. “Great show everyone!” he yelled over the cacophony or clapping still coming from the audience. “So, as you already know, you’ll have some time to go out for friends and family to congratulate you. After that, head to the back room and grab your luggage.”

The reason we had luggage was because, after our play, we were going on a little camping trip over the weekend. A “We survived it!” type thing. We would have cabins by the water, with the woods close by, so bugspray, sunscreen, and bathing suits were all on the list of things to bring.

It was another hour before we set off for our weekend cabin retreat. The whole way there, I was staring out the window of the bus, which was jam packed between the backstage crew, cast, and the teachers that came with us and our director to help chaperone. By the time we got there, it was 10:30 at night. I bade everyone goodnight, and went to the cabin Dustin and I managed to get the teachers to let us share.

“You did great on our backgrounds, Sis. I’m proud of you.” He ruffled me hair.

I looked up at him and smiled. “You did a great job acting.” Dustin gave a small smiles and crawled into his bed. I followed suit once I turned out the lights. With how tired I was, it didn’t take long for me to pass out.

***

The next day around one o’clock, everyone was in their bathing suits. A little beach like area was yards away from our cabins. But that’s not where everyone was. Just a few more yards from that, the ground started sloping up. Eventually, it would flatten out, and if you turned to your right, you would be faced with a small cliff that dropped into the water. It wasn’t a far drop either, by any means, but I was still one of the only people refusing to jump. If it wasn’t for how protective Dustin was, some of the others would have been on me, with a goal of getting me to jump.

Instead, they chose Shinoa. He was in his swimming shorts, but for whatever reason, he refused to get into the water. Though I must say, he was doing a pretty good job of fending for himself. Even so, I hated watching people hound and try to pressure someone else to do something they wished to not do.

I walked over briskly, back straight. “Guys, leave him alone. He doesn’t want to swim, so don’t make him.”

Now, we may be a family, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have our fair share of assholes. Caine, the leader of the little group, turned to look at me. “And we should listen to you?”

“Yes.” I walked between Shinoa and the others. “I seem to be the one voice of reason of you.”

The group- who was a mix of guys and girls- snickered. Caine took another step toward Shinoa, toward me. “We all know you have a fear of water, Ailsa.” He grabbed my arm and shoved me back a few feet. I was now directly side by side with Shinoa. “And since you’ve seem to have taken a liking to the yellow foreigner-” you could practically feel the Korean-Japanese boy stiffen- “perhaps you should take a dive with him.”

My brows furrowed before my face turned into one of shock. I opened my mouth to form the words “You wouldn’t,” but he had already closed the gap between us and shoved both Shinoa and myself off the edge of the cliff.

The water was- despite it being high noon- frigid. Granted when you were just shoved off a cliff and you’re deathly afraid of being in large bodies of water because you can’t swim, the temperature is one of the last thing you’re going to worry about.

My head dipped below the surface and didn’t come back up for a solid thirty seconds. Not until a pair of hands grabbed me under the arms and yanked me up. I sputtered, trying to get fresh air back into my lungs without inhaling lake water.

“Breath, Ailsa, breath!” Several seconds later and my breathing had indeed evened. That left my mind open to notice other sensations, such as the regular pattern of a fin tapping my leg. I looked down into the water and saw that, instead of legs, it was something of a mermaid tail.

“Oh my-!” He hastily covered my mouth.

“Don’t. Scream. I’m going to get us to a far beach so you can recover and I can dry off.” All I could bring myself to do was nod. Shinoa grabbed my wrist and looked up. I followed his line of sight and saw my brother looking over the edge. Dustin looked down at us, and Shinoa nodded, then swam to a far beach with me in tow.

- submitted by fortheviolas

[c9sneaksen-blog]

on a heartstring [2]

Word Count: 2534

Alright. Guess who went over the limitations by 500 words just one week after they established the limitations… 

… Me! And I guess I can’t help it. Hopefully we can all look past that and enjoy the chapter anyway. 

Need to recap before proceeding? Click here to read part one!

—

Normally, usually, under typical circumstances, the sound of a bell would be quite unpleasant, quite off-putting, and quite, well, quite fucking terrible to Zach. However, this time, it was not just the bell– but the bell that transitioned seventh period– to eighth period.

And eighth period, mind you, was Drama. And Zach had been waiting for this all day– as dorky, geeky, and nerdy as it sounded. So, just once– for a nice change of pace– Zach, as he was awoken from his half-daydream-half-dream-dream (as in, he had nodded off at some point during class), had never been more glad to hear the school bell ring in his 17 revolutions around the sun. (Well, excluding that time in freshman year when he really needed to pee, and it was an hour long assembly.)

It was a fairly calm walk down to the auditorium– located on the east side of the building; the side that was also known for the dirtied, paint-chipped walls, yellowed with age, mysteriously bad smells lurking about the deeper in you went. Once a week, it smelled of teacher-bought windex and used disinfectant wipes– but usually only on Mondays.

Zach pushed open those tall, oak doors, the outer coating of shine and polish long worn away, and was met with the old, and delightful, scent of a years-old auditorium.

Yes, for sure, years-old– the school, as most American schools are, are funnily and peculiarly neglectful of their arts programs… and their basic necessities. Interestingly enough, the school football field had, however, recently gotten newer renovations.

But, the auditorium was no place to be thinking about things like that. Especially not when this was Zachary Scuderi’s favorite class of the day, and he was not going to let the basic necessities– or lack thereof– or football field renovations– ruin any of it.

The auditorium was quite large, best described to be the (non-alcoholic) love cocktail of vellichor and anemoia; the combined forces of a favorite bookstore coupled with the amusement park you often passed during road trips, always eyeing the large rollercoasters up and, somehow, never having crossed paths with it. To the naked eye, it looked fairly normal– with the faded, red, scratchy seats and a big, semicircle stage, wood worn and floorboards creaky in all of the places that heroes and villains and love interests have walked upon. There were stage lights missing– there were always and were always going to be stage lights missing– speakers not yet obscured from audience view via large, crimson curtains– the steps leading down the aisles alight with neon yellow glow sticks.

However, to the eye of the theatre kid, or to the techie, the auditorium was two parts fitzcarraldo, one part grandiose. Within those creaky floorboards, dusty chests of props unused, just mild must in the air, there was something special, something magical– a magic that was not open to all; because, truth was, where the floorboards are pulling apart on stage, and the upholstery peeling away on the seats, the theatre kids and the tech crew see stories– they see dreams– they see the marks of those who sat in the seats before them, the footsteps, the same traffic patterns over, and over, circulating all over stage; of musicals produced long ago, of dances, of many kisses– some with secrets scrawled in between the hearts and the initials on the walls of the dressing rooms in the back– people saw. But the theatre kids– the tech crew– see.

It was a magic that was reserved for the kids who had scenes and lines racing in between the bare spaces of their mind, not yet occupied by something of the outside, darting in and out of aisles of paint-chipped walls and creaky doors, rough curtains and scratchy seats– a magic that was seldom shared– only ever on production nights could other students see– feel– hear.

As Zach seated himself in one of those worn, red seats scattered aisles upon aisles, the noisy class– lots of faces, mostly familiar, a couple unsure and new, seated amongst themselves– were greeted by the drama teacher.

“Ayy,” said teacher chortled, walking onto stage from behind the long curtains, seating himself down on stage, legs dangling off, “welcome to Drama, everybody– but before I start talking– can you guys hear me?” Gesturing to lots of kids– mostly new– seated towards the back of the auditorium, he then effused, “If you can’t, move up! Please! Seriously. My doctor said at the rate I’m going, I’m going to lose my voice in ten years. And he was like, ‘why are you yelling so much?’ And then I told him why– I’m a Drama teacher at a high school– and he just sighed.”

This seemingly bubbly, light-hearted, and especially loquacious man– was Mr. C, as he liked to be called (“my real name is weird, you see,” he had said, and always said, on the first day of class, “so just call me Mr. C.”)– and, as he had just told the class, he was, in fact, the Drama teacher at the high school. He was well-liked and quite beloved by all of the students, though, even more adored by the theatre kids and tech crew alike. He was, in reality, quite a peculiar teacher– having once been a mathematics professor at one of the local universities– and he was quite young, too, at the age of 29. Mr. C was best known for his talkative nature– and to be caught laughing at most of his own jokes (lots of which were horrible puns)– but, of course, he was kind, and empathetic, and, in his own right, pretty hilarious, and this, of course, won him some favor from his students.

Students responded to this plea by moving up, albeit tentatively, some aisles towards the front. “Yes, just like that!” Mr. C was now gesticulating wildly, in his own, funny little way of encouraging this action, “Really– you all look as though you were prepared to run out through the back doors in case this all went south. I don’t bite– so don’t worry! The only thing you’ve got to worry about here are the mice. But they aren’t particularly wild, so I doubt they’re going to bite.” Half of the students laughed at this, while the other half recounted the actual, very real, incidents that involved mice in the room.

“So– hello! I’m Mr.–” Cut off by the horrid ringing of the schoolbell, Mr. C sighed and stopped, “okay, as I was saying– I’m Mr. C– just Mr. C. You can ask all of the other students why I am just so–”

“His real name’s weird!” An unruly boy stood up, proclaimed this, and then sat down.

“Yes,” Mr. C bellowed back, “thank you, Jack. Anyway– as I was saying– to some of you, welcome back to Drama!” The garrulous and chipper drama teacher scanned his eyes across the room, landing upon a particular group of people, and, mysteriously, his eyes then bounced over to a corner of the room, “And to some of you– welcome– for the first time! And, on that note, we’ve got some introductions to do…”

As he was met by sunken, nervous eyes, leg jiggles and raveling and unraveling hands, Mr. C scooted closer to the back of the stage, tucking his legs into a criss-cross sitting position, “Now, now, I know. Introductions are weird, and bad, and awkward. Which leads me to ask you– group of people whom I’ve not ever seen before– and any others with unfamiliar faces– how many of you are here for tech?” Practically the entire group raised their hands– at which, Mr. C chuckled.

“Alright, you guys– I guess you’re fine.” Zach inwardly laughed at himself and the rest of the tech crew– it was true that they were the antisocial backbone of the theatre. “But, surprise! I was actually not going to ask most of you to introduce yourselves– just one person!” With a quick (and somehow graceful– albeit mildly wild) motion, and a couple of strong snaps of the finger, he gestured to the corner that he had previously glanced towards, “You! Right. You’re the one I’m picking on this year.”

Mr. C did this every year; he would always pick out one person amongst the crowd of people that he did not recognize, and asked them to introduce themselves. Of course, if you said no, you said no (Mr. C was not a heartless, cruel monster of a teacher)– but, funnily enough, he had a great eye to pick out the actors and actresses of these new, unfamiliar crowds of people, and, as they were to be the actors and actresses in the sea of the theater, they typically did not mind introductions.

Zach instinctively looked over to watch this figure– a quite lanky one at that– hesitantly make their way over by the stairs to the stage, as did all of the other theatre kids, and techies, and to-be-techies.

And his first thought was, wow, he looks really fucking cool.

And this was thought because, well, he did, in fact, look extremely cool. This figure– quite lanky, yet short– shorter than Zach, probably, he supposed, looked quite cool with the stage lights atop him– illuminating his ghostly white paleness, his dirty blond hair, and his eyes, even– quite blue, Zach could see, even being a couple of aisles away from the stage. They were quite striking– in such a way that it both made you curious of him, want to get to know him– and also made you highly intimidated of him. That might have just been Zach, though.

This incredibly skinny, ghostly, cool-looking figure wore equally cool-looking clothing. He donned a white shirt– which, beneath the lighting, Zach could observe, was not at all baggy, but almost had the illusion of being so (particularly because this figure was so skinny)– a black jacket with silver-colored zippering, which ended just below his shirt (and was well-fitted in the way that it may have made his shoulders look broader, though, his lankiness was unmistakable), and black jeans. Zach supposed he probably wasn’t the sort to like flashy colors, but– the way he was dressed now– was quite cool in its own right.

“Wow, you look quite ghostly,” Mr. C uttered– possibly what everyone, including Zach, was thinking– “you are an actor, right? You look quite pale to be up on stage. Unless, of course, you are just that pale,” he stopped himself from further speaking (before his garrulous nature made him get out of hand), “are you?”

For a split second, the figure looked out into the sea of theatre kids– looking much darker and hidden in comparison to his figure beneath yellow stage lights– and had a bit of an out-of-breath laugh. “Yes,” was all he had said.

“Well, I won’t stop you, I guess, from however way you would like to introduce yourself,” Mr. C lightly encouraged him, “although, if you’d like to sing a little ditty about yourself– or tell us in Shakespearean language– who you may be, and where you are from, and what you’d like for us to call you– because who you are and who you’d like to be called are, in actuality, two very different things– then, I won’t stop you from that either.”

Zach felt a tad bit bad for this student, who was currently staring into the audience– some sort of an abyss– some sort of an abyss that still withheld people in its strange sort of way. And then, he opened his mouth.

“‘Sup,” he uttered, voice wavering just a tad bit, as he removed his right hand from his jacket pocket briefly to flash a little peace sign– to no one in particular– “uh… I’m Nicolaj.” For comfort, or for knowledge, he glanced at Mr. C’s sitting form, who looked up at him in a sort of “go on, then” way. “I’m from Denmark.” Then, as if to fulfill some sort of verbal quota, he quickly added, “Nicolaj Jensen. That’s– my full name. If Nicolaj’s too hard for you, you can just call me Jensen.”

Then, he smiled– and not into the seemingly empty, yet existent crowd of people– but, seemingly, at Zach.

Never having been randomly smiled at by strangers much before (unless you counted all of those “aunts” at large-scale family reunions), Zach was unsure of how to respond. With great uncertainty, he offered a tiny, albeit timid, smile back. This figure– Nicolaj Jensen– feeling relieved to have gotten some sort of response back, for consolement, broke out into a bit of a grin, and averted his bright, blue eyes away.

And Zach’s second thought was, oh, wow, he’s very attractive.

But he couldn’t really be sure that he hadn’t already thought that at the start– it was, in fact, entirely possible that he had merely only acknowledged said thought up to this point.

He felt something weird and warm crawling around in the palms of his hand, riding his trains of veins all throughout his arms, feeling them tingle and spark– for seemingly– no good reason.

“Wow,” Mr. C had chirped, “from Denmark? I knew you were special from all the rest! I mean, not to say that all of the kids here aren’t special. But– well– you get what I mean.” Momentarily, he stared up into the stage lights, as though he saw something of interest– then, completely disregarded this, turning back to the new student. “And why, might I ask, are you here?”

Tugging upwards on his collar, almost as though to bite it, then deciding against it, Jensen replied, “I mean…,” his tongue-heavy accent slipping through the cracks of his voice, “for the same reason that everyone else is here?”

Zach couldn’t help but inhale a bit of a laugh through his nose at that one.

“Very tricky answer,” Mr. C remarked, wiggling a singular eyebrow at this response, almost as though to both commend Jensen for his answer and to poke good-natured fun at it, “anyways.” he clapped his hands together, standing up from his spot on stage in a swift motion, “what an interesting introduction we’ve had this year! You can step down now.” Jensen– a bit enthusiastically, with a bit of a phew escaping his lips– hopped down from the stage, foregoing the stairs. “Just don’t sit in that little corner again! Be one with all of these theatre kids– and tech kids.”

As though his feet moved on their own, Jensen found himself at the ends of an aisle– where a certain bronze-haired, similarly blue-eyed (although they were framed with glasses), boy sat. So he sat there– on that end– Zach seated two seats down from him towards the middle.

Zach gave him a quarter of a wave, raising his fingers off of the armrest of his seat, coupled with a more confident smile this time. He mouthed, “Hey.”

“Yo,” Jensen mouthed back, flashing another peace sign.

And for the rest of class, Jensen sat, quietly, listening to the ramblings of his strange new teacher, Mr. C. And Zach tried to ignore the steadily-spreading warmth that had begun to creep up the back of his neck.

[mwsa-member]

MWSA Interview with RJ MacDonald

Date of interview: 6 November 2019 RJ MacDonald is an award-winning part-time author. He grew up in a small coastal fishing village on the east coast of Scotland. At fourteen he crossed the Atlantic to California and attended Cate School before studying both military history and social science at the University of California at Berkeley, where his visiting dissertation professor was Stephen Ambrose (Band of Brothers). After graduating with a double major, he enlisted in the US Marines as a reservist. Boot camp went well for the first five days until the drill instructors read his personnel file and discovered not only a, "Berkeley hippy freak infiltrating their Marine Corps," but also one with an accent, "You speak funny private, are you Russian?" Meritoriously promoted to sergeant, he served in a helicopter support squadron at NAS Miramar and as an expert marksman and marksmanship instructor before returning to Scotland to complete two masters degrees and joining the Royal Air Force Reserves- "You speak funny sir, are you Canadian?" Parachute qualified with jump-wings from Holland, the Czech Republic and US Special Operations Command Europe, he deployed in as an operational intelligence officer with a RAF Puma helicopter detachment to Baghdad during the war in Iraq, and then again to Cyprus during the conflict in Libya. Now a director within a small research company, he also serves on a Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) volunteer crew tasked with a 24/7 all-weather maritime search and rescue role in some of the world's roughest seas. He lives with his wife, three children and a very cute but equally stupid cocker spaniel, in the East Neuk of Fife, where he grew up. A member of the Historical Novel Society and Military Writers Society of America, he can often be found tapping away on his laptop while waiting for various after-school clubs to finish. MWSA: Would you recommend MWSA membership to other authors? RJ MacDonald: Absolutely. It not only gives authors, especially new authors, a platform to share their work, but it also gives them the opportunity to be reviewed and to win a respected award. Reviews and awards are gold dust to a new author. As I'm sure other writers can attest, once you've put the work into writing a book, and then being lucky enough to have it published, you sort of sit back and ask yourself 'now what?'. Having a friendly, approachable, resource like MWSA helps you focus your efforts in marketing your book, and in giving your work credibility- essential in today's crowded market.

MWSA: We don't often come across someone who has served in both the US Marines and the Royal Air Force, how did that happen? RJ MacDonald: It is pretty rare, I've never met anyone who has joined the military on both sides of the Atlantic. I came from a military family, my mother's side of the family were from the Northwest Highlands, and had served in the Seaforth Highlanders, Cameron Highlanders and Scots Guards, I guess I just inherited that military service gene. I moved to California as a teenager, and after university I still wanted to serve, but had a full-time job, so I enlisted in the US Marines as a reservist. The DIs had a field day with me once they discovered my Berkeley background and Scottish accent. They made me 'music private' and I had to periodically march up and down the squadbay playing air bagpipes! The funny thing was, when we graduated, the Marine band droned into a Scottish bagpipe tune, I mean they really sounded like bagpipes. I stood there rock solid in my Dress Blues with the most gigantic lump in my throat and silent tears running down my cheeks. A coincidence? I'll never know, but I'll also never forget it. I returned to Scotland 'just for a year' to do a master's degree, which somehow turned into staying forever. I was commissioned into the RAF Reserves in 2005 and although I obviously couldn't wear any US Marine insignia, I did have basic US jumpwings, which I was allowed to wear on my British camouflage uniform. That always raised a few eyebrows at inspections! Nowadays I serve on a volunteer lifeboat crew, and as we're not a military organisation, I can, and do wear, both my US Marines and RAF medals with pride during Remembrance Day services. MWSA: Your debut novel, A Distant Field, is set during WWI. Did your prior service influence your storyline? RJ MacDonald: To a degree, yes. WWI still resonates throughout Scotland. Not a single town escaped the death toll, and WWI memorials dot every village and glen. But my time and service in America had also made me aware of the service of Americans during the war, especially before America actually officially entered the war in 1917. American volunteers could be found in British, Canadian and French forces in large numbers, including those who volunteered to fight in the Scottish regiments (there was even a Scots-American Highlanders regiment- the 236th Maclean Kilties of America). I decided early on my main characters would be two Scots-American brothers who volunteer to serve in the Seaforth Highlanders, but I needed a reason for them to join, and to be in Britain, so I placed them on board the RMS Lusitania when it was torpedoed in 1915. The story just seemed to flow from that point onwards to the battlefield. MWSA: What writing projects are you working on these days? RJ MacDonald: I've got two projects I'm working on right now. I'm finishing the sequel to A Distant Field, named The Chosen Heroes. It finds the main characters fighting alongside Australians and New Zealanders in the bloody battlefields of Gallipoli. It's classic backs-to-the-sea fighting. The allies had landed in Turkey trying to knock it out of the war, but instead found themselves hemmed into beachheads and being attacked by Jihad-sworn Turkish soldiers. It was a horrifying campaign, a real infantryman's fight against waves of attacking Turks with little support and truly dreadful leadership at the top. The allies eventually evacuated the remaining troops when their position became untenable. The campaign became a text-book study on how not to do amphibious landings, lessons that were studied not only by the US Marines prior to the WWII Pacific Campaigns, but also by the allies prior to D-Day and by the American forces in Korea prior to Inchon. The second project I'm working on is a murder-mystery set against the backdrop of a lifeboat crew- The Brotherhood of the Sea. It's just something I've been toying with for awhile with a view to the British market. The volunteer lifeboat crews around the UK and Ireland are well known, respected and supported, and murder mysteries are always popular, so why not try to combine the two? It's very, very different from writing historical military fiction, so we'll just have to see how it goes. MWSA: Do you have any top tips for fellow writers? RJ MacDonald: Hey, I'm still trying to figure it all out myself! Probably the most obvious- just keep writing. I do it part-time, but I always try to write something each week, sometimes I manage chapters, sometimes only paragraphs, but just keep at it. Find yourself a good publisher. I was lucky and found one in Los Angeles that specialized in military novels- Warriors Publishing Group, headed up by Julia Dye and her husband, Dale Dye, who many might know as a Holywood military adviser and actor, but is also an award-winning writer. Julia's my editor and I can tell you now, if you've forgotten your English grammar (i.e. comma splices...), she'll remind you of it, frequently! And have fun with it. Writing leads you and your reader into another world for days on end, what an amazing gift. MWSA: Any last advice? RJ MacDonald: Network and embrace social media. I did the latter kicking and screaming, but now have a website (www.rjmacdonald.scot), Amazon and Goodreads profiles, a Facebook page (www.facebook.com/rjmacdonald.scot), have managed somehow to have gathered a dozen glowing reviews for A Distant Field, have published articles, and have even been lucky enough to have won a trio of awards, including a gold medal from MWSA.

[episodesthebadgirlsclub]

VH1’s Love & Hip Hop New York Premiere Episode Recap: Unity

It’s here, ya’ll! Love & Hip Hop New York is bringing back the glam, the beats, and the drama for season eight. There are some new players on the scene destined to stir it up, and some familiar faces guaranteed to hold it down.

We begin with the first lady of this crew, Remy Ma, who is looking fab in a private helicopter as she glides, unbothered, above her city. Since her comeback, the rap mogul is loving her regained spotlight – but fame comes with a price. Getting nominated for Best Female Hip Hop Artist by BET this year puts her in the crosshairs of her competitors, but Remy just wants to see the women of hip hop come together. No need for more messiness.

At Lovage Rooftop in Midtown, the party Remy has organized to bring women together is in full swing. She arrives in all her gilded glory to thank everyone for coming, and to encourage networking. Her husband and producer, Papoose, loves seeing Remy use her swag to empower others in the industry. Now, they just have to take her advice.

Remy sits down with blue-haired Bianca Bonnie (formerly known as Young B), and Juliet “Juju” C to chat, and is disturbed to hear that Bianca has gotten herself into some hot water over a physical altercation with Brittany “Bri” Taylor, who has allegedly been coming at her for years. Instead of seeing how devastating this behavior could be to her career, Bianca justifies the incident. Knowing where this can lead (clink clink), Remy advises the young upstart to cool it with the club tussling. “I don’t want you to be like me,” she warns. Bianca just laughs and says she’ll work on it.

Across the rooftop, Felicia “Snoop” Pearson and Papoose sit down with DJ Self to hear all about his new artist, Dreamdoll, who promptly comes over to join them.

Safaree shows up next, back in the city after bouncing to LA for a bit. He needs a break from the Hollywood scene and is hoping to get his career and love life back on track in NYC. He’s also done with the Botox parties and the plastic women of LA, and Dreamdoll is looking like the East Coast girl who could fix his life right now.

Yandy Smith-Harris is back with a short sleek bob, lamenting the messy year she’s just lived through with baby mama drama and her man, Mendeecees Harris, still locked up. Mendeecees’ other kids haven’t been to prison to visit their father in a while, a situation Yandy admits isn’t ideal. But she’s focused on her own family and career right now, just trying to let go of the ancillary drama.

When Mendeecees comes home, Yandy wants the transition to be smooth – but when he calls in the middle of her conversation with the girls at the party, she immediately hangs up on his a$$! Oh, no. No, no, no, girl. After she tells him to call back later FROM PRISON, Remy and Juju side-eye Yandy within an inch of her life. She just brushes them off, arguing that she hears from him ALL the time, so…whatevs! This move will come back to haunt her later.

Love & Hip Hop Premiere Episode Recap At home, Rich Dollaz inspects his reflection in the mirror. Managing his type 2 diabetes has been a wakeup call this past year, and he knows that his creeping has to stop. His music – and his health – are all that matter now.

Meanwhile, newcomer Anais is taking the stage at Amadeus Nightclub in Queens. Anais is a Latin artist who’s been performing since childhood, and has already risen to fame in the Spanish-language music scene. Now she wants to take her career mainstream, and her manager, Navarro, thinks super-stardom is a sure thing. Only one problem: Anais is married to a dude (Ruben) who could be her father, and all is not wedded bliss in their world. For starters, Ruben is not thrilled with Anais re-entering the music scene. His wife has other plans, however…like flirting.

At Quad Studios in Midtown, Webstar and Rich sit down to talk about Bri’s future. Webstar wants Rich to take her on as his new talent, but Rich doesn’t want to manage female artists who live for the drama – and Bri’s beef with Bianca spells trouble. Blue-haired Bri thinks Bianca has been jacking her swag for ages, and she’s had enough of the jealousy and hate. She wants to take her career seriously, and to the next level – if only for the sake of her family, especially the sick grandmother who raised her. Despite the situation with Bianca (who’s also produced by Webstar), Rich agrees to take her on as a client.

At Yandy’s office in Lower Manhattan, she’s advising a photo shoot via phone when her cell goes off. It’s Mendeecees calling from prison and this time, she picks up. He’s not happy about her hanging up on him the day before, and has already sent word to his mother, Judy, to “deal with it.” He’s also got issues with Yandy’s Instagram bikini shots, which don’t say “hello, I’m a serious businesswoman!” as much as “hello, have you met my a$$cheeks recently?” Exasperated at Yandy laughing off his concerns, Mendeecees finally just hangs up on her. Now they’re even.

Love & Hip Hop Premiere Episode Recap Later that night, Safaree takes his mom and sisters out for drinks, which includes a little bit of alcohol and a heaping helping of interrogation tactics. They want Safaree to bring home a nice girl – a girl he could actually marry. Mom even thinks she should choose his next girlfriend because her son is obviously not capable of choosing his own quality partner! By the end of this “family bonding” experience, Safaree is schooled enough to get serious. He’s got mama’s marching orders to find a wife, and he’d better do it right this time.

Love & Hip Hop Premiere Episode Recap Someone who is already wife’d up and none the happier for it is Anais, who is still complaining about how much Ruben holds her back.

In their courtyard, Anais complains to Ruben about how unsupportive he is when he accuses her of being out too much. “I got a LIFE!” she whines, but Ruben is not up for this new life, new wife. “Do you want to get divorced?” he finally asks her. Anais doesn’t give him a straight answer yet, but the chances of them staying together doesn’t look good.

Next, we flash to footage of the BET Awards, where Remy picked up Best Female Hip Hop Artist – woot woot! After she predictably shades Nicki Minaj, she takes the stage to thank her fans and her husband, who have shown her lasting love and loyalty. Papoose is thrilled for her and sees only stars in their future.

image: http://cdn3-www.realitytea.com/assets/uploads/2017/11/Remy_Pap.jpg

Love & Hip Hop Premiere Episode Recap They clink champagne glasses afterward, toasting to their success. But Remy will never forget her friends back in prison, nor the struggles she went through to get where she is. She might be back on top, but can’t forget what the bottom looks like. And if she puts all of this fire into her next album, it will hit all the right notes. But Papoose wants to press pause on the album in favor of pursuing IVF. Remy can’t imagine slowing down for a baby though. Why can’t I just do both? she wonders. If anyone can do it, she can.

Rich, Snoop, and Bri are also celebrating at the club. Bri’s career is Rich’s problem now, and he takes his problems seriously. Snoop wishes them both luck, knowing they’ll probably need a whole lot of it.

Love & Hip Hop Premiere Episode Recap When she gets back with her drink, Bri straight up accuses Bianca of trying to be like her. “You think you’re cute after you jump me?” taunts Bri, desperately trying to get a reaction. And a reaction is served up swiftly – in the form of a shoe launching straight at her head! Dang. Bianca came to PLAY! With her heel!!! Right after she throws her shoe, Bianca is held back from the flailing Bri, who also needs full restraints. As the women are literally dragged apart by bouncers, Rich ponders why he decided to get back into the business of managing female artists again – especially these female artists.

Afterward on the curb, Bri tells Rich she can’t handle being thrown into the fire with Bianca, and she doesn’t want to do business with her in the mix any longer. Owning NO part of the situation herself, Bri calls Bianca a “bum b*tch” who shows up to industry parties just to start drama. “I’m DONE!” she warns.

Love & Hip Hop Premiere Episode Recap Meanwhile, Yandy is on set overseeing Grafh’s photoshoot. Grafh has had past success in the industry, but wants to break out with his own brand now. In the middle of the shoot, Yandy’s mother in law, Judy, shows up to spy on her daughter in law – who just happens to be rubbing lotion on her client’s elbows.

“Why are you touching up on him like that?” Judy demands. Yandy is not about to deal with this family drama at her place of business, but finally has to step in when Judy hauls off and HITS Grafh! Yandy tells her she’s crazy, to please leave, and NOT to carry this bone back to Mendeecees in prison.

Watch full episodes here

Read more at http://www.realitytea.com/2017/11/01/vh1s-love-hip-hop-new-york-premiere-episode-recap-unity/#gB2icLGxMorJVcd5.99

[theedblog]

Alright, NFC East time, y’all. There are a lot of super competitive divisions this season. The AFC West, AFC South, NFC South...all pretty fucking decent. The NFC East is definitely the toughest to predict though. The Cowboys won it last year and should keep things rolling this season, especially once Zeke gets back. Kirk Cousins keeps throwing for pretty decent numbers despite everyone assuming that this is the year he regresses. How is literally nobody convinced that he’s a good quarterback yet? Not even me and I am fully aware of how ridiculous that is. Carson Wentz is a ass hair away from being a top tier guy. One big step forward and Philly is a serious contender. Then there’s goddamn Eli Manning. Let’s get into it.

NFC East Crew..

QB - Eli Manning, Giants

RB - Zeke Elliot, Cowboys

TE - Jordan Reed, Redskins

WR - Odell Beckham Jr, Giants

WR - Dez Bryant, Cowboys

FLEX - Terrelle Pryor, Redskins

OL - Lane Johnson, Eagles

OL - Tyron Smith, Cowboys

OL - Trent Williams, Redskins

OL - Zack Martin, Cowboys

OL - Travis Frederick, Cowboys

DL - Brandon Graham, Eagles

DL - Fletcher Cox, Eagles

DL - Damon Harrison, Giants

DL - Olivier Vernon, Giants

LB - Jordan Hicks, Eagles

LB - Sean Lee, Cowboys

LB - Zach Brown, Redskins

DB - Josh Norman, Redskins

DB - Landon Collins, Giants

DB - Janoris Jenkins, Giants

DB - Malcolm Jenkins, Eagles

Offensive Player of the Year - Odell Beckham Jr, WR - Giants

Defensive Player of the Year - Fletcher Cox, DL - Eagles

Rookie of the Year - Evan Engram, TE - Giants

Breakout Player of the Year - Su’a Cravens, SS - Redskins

Comeback Player of the Year - Jason Pierre-Paul, DL - Giants

Newcomer of the Year - Alshon Jeffery, WR - Eagles

Offensive Player of the year would have been a no brainer for this division if Zeke Elliot weren’t missing the first six games of the year. Shit, I still think he ends up the best RB of the bunch. But you got another blue chipper in the division. ODB. I used to substitute teach at a school in Little Rock and all the cool kids had his hair. He’s this generation’s Deion Sanders and it’s not even close. Defensive Player of year is Fletcher Cox. He is a renaissance master’s oil painting of an NFL 3-technique. This division is so fucking loaded on both sides of the ball. With all the talent around him I would guess Cox comes out of this season with at least double digit sacks. Rookie of the year is going to Evan Engram. Tough call because TEs are generally not great as rookies but Engram could really be special early on. He’s already one of the most athletic TEs in football but a great route runner and landed on a team with a lot of talent around him. He’ll lose some targets but won’t get nearly as much attention as most first round picks at his position. I think Jonathan Allen will have the best career out of all the rookies in this division but he’s going to get so much attention all season. Plus he’s not playing a glory position. He’ll be two gapping in a division full of really excellent offensive linemen. Couple years down the road and he’s an All-Pro, for now he has a solid rookie year but lacks great numbers. Comeback player of the year is JPP. He’s got most of a year playing with 7.5 fingers under his belt. He should only get better from here, right? Not sure how that works. Newcomer is Alshon Jeffery to Philly. I actually don’t even think he’s the best new WR in the division. My guess is Terrelle Pryor goes for about 400 more yards and 2-3 more TDs. The difference is who’s throwing him the ball. Cousins isn’t Joe Montana but he’s definitely more settled in as who he is as a QB than Carson Wentz. Philly has hitched their wagon to the boy from Fargo. He was solid as a rookie last year but now has a true #1 WR. Breakout Player of the Year is Su’a Cravens who has retired and unretired since I started this blog post. With the uncertainty I’ll switch it up to Byron Jones for now.

I could honestly go four different ways at QB. I went Eli because of the talent around him. Wentz and Dak Prescott have way more potential but I always worry about the possibility of a sophomore slump even if all things are pointing up. It’s very possible Eli is the absolute worst QB in this division. 

RB looks like this: 10 game Zeke > 16 game Rob Kelley. 10 game Zeke > 16 game Paul Perkins. 10 game Zeke > 16 game LaGarrette Blount.

There are a few guys that could’ve gone before Terrelle Pryor, maybe even on his team (Jamison Crowder) but Pryor went for over 1000 yards in his first full season as a WR in the NFL for the Browns when he had a mixture of Kevin Hogan, Cody Kessler, and I don’t know...Brian Hoyer??? throwing him the ball. A solid QB situation with a great offensive line, decent WR/TE options around him and no great running game...I think TPJ is going to go big this year. As far as the other two go..I think Dez could lead the NFL in TD receptions and ODB could lead the NFL in yards. 

Jordan Reed is the clear favorite at TE assuming he stays healthy unless you count blocking ability then Jason Witten might have a claim but nobody cares about blocking really. Zach Ertz has a chance to challenge Jordan Reed if Reed is hurt.

This is probably the best division for offensive linemen in the league. I’m an Arkansas boy. Lifelong Razorback and University of Arkansas alumni and so when I don’t include Jason Peters into this group it means this is a great group. The only question was Peters or Lane Johnson and I honestly believe Johnson is bound to be one of the three or four best linemen in the league. Also, how is Tyron Smith only like 26? He’s probably another year or so from hitting his prime.

This division may not have the best defensive line but it’s close. Even the Redskins and the Cowboys who are a little thin have good talent. Fletcher Cox along with J.J. Watt and Aaron Donald has a claim for the best interior defensive linemen in the NFL. Snacks Harrison is very one dimensional but he is just so fucking good against the run his lack of pass rush ability can be overlooked. Brandon Graham and Olivier Vernon are two of the most solid, all-around DEs in the game.

It was tough leaving Ryan Kerrigan out of this group (and also the DL for that matter) but these three linebackers are all three a little more well-rounded and better at what they specialize at than Kerrigan. Jordan Hicks is on his way to being one of the absolute best coverage linebackers in the league. Sean Lee does everything very well. Zach Brown was the closest but he beats his new teammate out by a hair. Better against the run, better in coverage, and although he will only have half the sacks..that’s not bad considering how much more productive he is in every other aspect of the linebacker position.

Byron Jones Su’a Cravens were really the only guys I was considering. Assuming Cravens actually plays this year and has his head in it, he should push for 100 tackles with plenty of opportunities as a pass rusher and in coverage. If Jones had more productive in coverage (as far as turnovers go) he would have made this list. On top of that, he is hoping a young, depleted line gets enough pressure on opposing QBs to give him looks at INTs. Janoris Jenkins and Marcus Peters both proved themselves last year as true shut down guys. Malcolm Jenkins and Landon Collins both have great athleticism and versatility. Jenkins is great but Collins has done nothing but produce at a top tier rate his two years in the league and with his best defensive crew around him I can’t help but think he’ll be even better this year.

This division is tough but I gotta go with the Giants. The NFC East is notorious for never producing repeat winners so you gotta think it’s different this year than last year. I think the Giants will have one of the best defenses in the game this year and if the O-line holds up there should be enough talent on that side of the ball to hold up.

Yeah boys and girls...AFC East up next. Oh shit, who wins that one, right?!

[orlandoskincare-blog]

Cult Facialist Shani Darden's Top Skin Tips

I don't know if there's an official ranking floating out there on the internet, but I'm willing to stake my limited reputation on calling Shani Darden LA's favorite facialist. For one thing, she's actually based there. (None of this bi-coastal, only in town during awards season nonsense.) For another, her client list is packed with the exact crew you'd want to hang out with if you happened to be in town: Emily Ratajkowski, Jen Atkin, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Jessica Alba, Chrissy Teigen... The cool, down-to-earth girls, who just happen to have the faces of celestially gifted angels.

Shani herself fits right in. She got her start dancing in music videos (see if you can spot her) before deciding to move to LA, go to esthetics school, and eventually open up her own place. Now, she's known as the facialist who can take your frustrating, hard-to-manage, acneic skin and turn it clear and perfect. In other words, this is the woman you should take skincare advice from. Lucky for you, Tom and I scooped up five facts to live by when we were in LA last October. They are as follows:

Are you using retinol? You should be using retinol.

"I've seen women in their 60s who barely have a wrinkle because they've been using retinol forever," Shani told us. She pays homage, of course, to Retin-A and the like, but proposes a slower, gentler approach to the anti-acne, anti-wrinkle miracle ingredient. First of all, "you have to use it gradually. You should use it once a week for a while and then add it in slowly. You don't want to just jump in and using it every day." Secondly, if you don't have a formula you already like, she made one for you. It's called Retinol Reform and it's a like gel that works under any skincare routine. "It helps with both acne and aging by boosting collagen. And if you don't suffer from either it works preventatively."

Yes, those LED lights work.

Have you seen the commercials for that Neutrogena Acne Light Therapy Mask? Shani doesn't use that one (she's got the professional grade stuff), but she says the general philosophy works. "If I'm known for anything, it's probably LED therapy," she said, after mentioning that she had just ordered a full bed of lights clients can lay on. "There are different lights that can help with different things," she explained. "Red can boost collagen and refine wrinkles. Blue kills bacteria for acne. Using them combined makes a really big difference." As for product recommendations, she says "the Deesse is pretty amazing. A lot of my clients have that one. If you're spending all that money for a facial and you can use that, it'll make a difference."

Yes, microcurrent devices also work.

If you've ever browsed the NuFace or Ziip devices, consider them Shani-encouraged. In fact, she's even partnered with NuFace on a little kit that'll get you started at home. In her words: "I love microcurrent. I think it's the greatest thing. The handheld works really well-if you use it. I do under my eyes and around my mouth every morning to tighten and train the muscles the more you do it. But you have to commit to it. A lot of people buy them and they just leave them in the drawer. That won't help you."

If you have melasma, lasers can help.

"I have a bit of melasma but I go to Dr. Orion and he lasers it off. It's a constant thing and it's very common-it's what they call the mask of pregnancy. I went to someone years ago to have it removed and they only made it worse, so you have to go to someone who is great with lasers, particularly if you have any color in your skin. The thing about melasma, which people don't realize, is that it's caused and made worse by heat. If you go do hot yoga everyday, it'll be back in two days."

A well-rounded skincare routine can be affordable.

So let's say you can't find time in your busy schedule to fly to LA regularly and stop by Shani's office. That's fine! Here are the essentials, according to Shani: "Always cleanse your skin. Always use sunscreen. In my opinion, always wear retinol. Of course you have to be careful of sun and retinol because it can make you sensitive to the sun. But those are the big three."

Shani Darden photographed by Tom Newton at her office in Los Angeles.

And on the East coast: Jenna Lyons' facialist Aida Bicaj shares her top skin takeaways.