#i have always found it hard to reconcile this song with Alex

[misskattylashes]

You @should-know-better are a fucking genius

I think that Silverscreen is about that horrible interview

I've looked at the lyrics to Silverscreen over and over again, and just couldn't relate to them being about Alex or Hannah. Something just didn't feel right. For a start, when the song was written, Miles and Hannah hadn't broken up - in fact, they were together for another four months - so although the song appears to be about acting, I felt it couldn't be about her.

Then, there was consideration, that it could have been about Alex and the façade of his straight behaviour but the line 'patent boots, lipstick rouge' didn't fit (interestingly years later, Alex did have some patent boots for The Car tour).

I think that this is Miles' angry song about the RB interview in Spin Magazine (I refuse to even use her name).

Two-faced Johnny, hotel lobby A two-faced person is someone who is not sincere and says complimentary things to your face, but horrible things behind your back. 'Johnny' or 'Little Johnny' is a character often used in funny jokes or anecdotes, so Miles is creating a juxtaposition here. The interview did take place in the lobby of the Bowery Hotel in New York. In many of Miles' songs, he sets the scene in the first line.

I won't go up without you This is similar to what she reported he'd said. Growing up, Miles and Alex would have seen many British tv shows which had many double entendres in them (the Carry On films, Open All Hours, Are You Being Served to name but a few), and much of this humour is seen throughout their interviews. It's of a specific time and it's difficult for some non-UK people to fully appreciate. This is why she took the quip the wrong way. When interviewers say that Miles and Alex are talking in their own language, I feel that they don't realise that they are quoting different comedy lines to each other, to make each other laugh.

Patent boots, lipstick rouge, For the first time today, I looked up online pictures of RB and discovered that she does indeed wear bright red lipstick. There's black boots, but too difficult to say if they are patent.

hang on the edge of champagne flutes She works by writing about people who are rich and successful, literally, a hanger-on to the music industry.

Misdemeanour, gossip cleaner, She's made out that he has done something wrong, and she's created gossip. 'Cleaning up' is a phrase that means making money.

overacting table reader. Ego driver, loose-lip liar A table read is a run through of the script, done by actors just speaking the lines, i.e. there's no action. Nothing happened. She's making it out to be more than it actually was, (building up her ego) by suggesting that a rock star would try to seduce her. She's a liar.

driving my head in A colloquialism - 'doing my head in' is a phrase used in the North of the UK, meaning, it's making me so angry, I can't stop thinking about it.

I can't see silverscreens, He's saying to her, it's no good acting, this is not a film

you won't leave it alone, I don't care what you mean, I don't buy your next scene She repeatedly interpreted aspects from the interview the wrong way and he can't believe what she's written about him. Also, the repeat of 'you won't leave it alone' could refer to that it was reported that she didn't accept his apology.

Surface tension, I won't mention, liar, liar, liar ha This either refers to the tension in the interview itself, or the tension that the interview has created afterwards for Miles. She lied about it and made his comments out to be more than they were.

Dirty finger, constant linger, driving my head in A dirty finger means 'fuck you' as in when you show the middle finger to someone. Miles is still angry about this interview, months later, when he's writing the song. The interview was in March, he wrote the song in September. Perhaps the repeated phrase of 'you won't leave it alone,' also is him talking to himself. He can't get over it and he thinks about it a lot.

We know that Miles says that he is truthful in his lyrics, but in the John Kennedy interview, he says: "yes, it's a real angry one, it's like, I wanna keep a bit of the mystery there..." knowing full well that bringing this up again would do him more harm than good.

As usual, these are just my thoughts and interpretations on the lyrics and I don't mean to open up a can of worms about the RB interview again. Any comments are welcome 😊

[fortylessonsbeforeforty]

Lesson 30

I learnt the importance of being unapologetically ME! I read a quote recently that said something along the lines of that in life we aren’t finding ourselves, we are becoming ourselves, which I loved, but at the same time didn’t entirely agree with. For me, I think sometimes in life, we do get lost. Lost in the expectations of others that we think we ought to be living up to. Lost when we are in different relationships, personally and professionally. And at times we need to rediscover ourselves, which I understand in a sense is how we become our authentic self. For me, turning thirty was a defining point in my life where I first remember I truly felt I was ME!

I saw a psychic medium in my late twenties and one thing that really hit home for me, was when she suggested I needed to release the self-made guilt, responsibility and loyalty. She told me to release old ways of doing things — old ideas, beliefs and notions. It made me reflect on the person I was and the decisions I was making in life; whether or not they were for me or to please the people around me. I came to see that the ‘plan’ I had for my life was created based on the ideas and beliefs of others and what society said was ‘normal.’ The greatest internal battle was the desire to be who I wanted to be and who I knew I was versus who I thought my family, friends and society told me I should be.

This realisation that I was living a life for others and not completely for myself wasn’t entirely a bad thing. I realise now, that some of my best qualities and characteristics have been shaped by my family and loved ones. I had to reconcile the idea of who I wanted to be with the person (I thought) others wanted me to be and ensure I wasn’t compromising me in the equation. In an episode of ‘The Secret Life Of Us,’ Dr Alex Christensen returns to her high school to speak to current students. She explains the weird feeling she got when she was called ‘Doctor’ for the first time and how she hadn’t yet seen herself as a doctor. She said:

“I understood that people were seeing me from a different perspective from the way that I’d always seen myself. And so, in a way, I had to rethink my own view of myself. It’s a critical moment for us all. But what’s more important, I believe, is how we use this realisation. When we understand this, when we embrace all our contradictions, only then are we equipped, fully equipped to find our true place in the world.”

After seeing the psychic medium, I felt a confidence to embrace the contradictions of who I was, rather than feel ashamed and hide them. For so long I had felt afraid to express certain parts of me, for fear of people not being accepting of who I was. This in turn made it hard for me to like the person I was, because it was a person I was pretending to be. Savage Garden’s song ‘This Side Of Me,’ explores this idea of wanting to showing one’s true self. Darren Hayes sings:

And in the dark I want to find that golden glow within

’Cause I am not afraid to let you see this side of me

It was after seeing the psychic and turning thirty that I feel I began to take steps towards truly becoming happy with who I was and the me I wanted to be and have people see. I began the work of getting to know the me I wanted to be and letting that side of me shine.

When studying to become a teacher, it’s made clear that you need to be very reflective. It’s drummed into you that you need to be reflective at the end of each lesson, of your teaching style, your behaviour management, how you set up the room, the list is endless. I have no doubt that reflection is a natural part of all professions, but it’s showed me the importance of using this skill in all aspects of who I am, not just the teacher in the classroom. If we aren’t reflective, we can’t grow. David Chang discusses the importance of self-reflection in his memoir, ‘Eat A Peach,’ using the analogy of a lobster. He says:

“There’s an old myth that lobsters are immortal. They never show signs of getting old. They don’t slow down until they day they’re cooked and eaten. Lobsters grow by molting. They shed their old shell to reveal a new, soft shell that will eventually harden around them. By the time they’re done, there’s no sign of the lobster they were. It’s an exhausting, dangerous process. It takes a tremendous amount of energy and leaves them exposed and vulnerable while they’re in the middle of it. Want to know the only sign a lobster is dying? It stops molting. Never again would we fear the gruelling work of breaking ourselves down and gluing ourselves back together again. That cycle of building and destroying and rebuilding is not something to overcome. The human equivalent of not wanting to molt is trying to make life easy, refusing to grow or be self-reflective.”

Sometimes we are forced into situations that allow us the time and space to look inward to ask ourselves if we are on the right path. The global pandemic has been one of those times that has allowed us the opportunity to do so. No matter where we are in the world, Covid-19 has had an impact on us, some more so than others. I really enjoyed the conversation between @taylorswift and Jack Antonoff as they discussed recording ‘folklore’ during this period of time. Jack said:

“In our dismantling of all our systems of life that we’ve known in the pandemic we’re left with two options. Either cling to it and make it work of just say “Ok, I guess I’m gonna turn a new path and get a frontier mentality. Everything’s a blur so I’m just gonna rewrite it.”

I know for me it was a great opportunity to think about what was important to me and what I could leave behind. Letting go of all those things that weren’t contributing positively and productively to the person I aim to be. It made me think about how I spend my time and the notion that I had to ‘use up’ my whole weekend seeing people and doing things, otherwise it was a wasted two days. It made me realise the importance of prioritising the things I love and how it’s more about quality over quantity. It’s a sentiment that @taylornation reflected on with Jack, saying:

“There’s something about the complete and total uncertainty of life that causes endless anxiety, but there’s another part the release of pressures you used to feel. Because if we’re going to have to recalibrate everything, we should start with what we love the most first.”

It reminded me that in times of any disaster, whether it’s a global pandemic, a health scare, losing a job or the breakdown of a relationship, the importance in taking the time to discover who you are. Finding yourself in order to become who you want to be. And sometimes that may take time, as Taylor Swift sings in ‘happiness’:

And in the disbelief I can’t face reinvention I haven’t met the new me yet

It may take some time to find the new person you want to become after a disaster. Similarly, we can find ourselves changed in the blink of an eye after a completely unexpected event. Things happen that will change us and Katharine McPhee’s song ‘Stranger Than Fiction’ is a good reminder of that.

I found love when I least expected it I found faith from a night of no regrets I found me in a place too crazy to mention Let’s say that life is stranger than fiction

I found love from the strength of letting go I found faith from the nights spent on my own I found me in a place too crazy to mention Let’s say that life is stranger than fiction

Another thing that I’ve learnt is to be open to all experiences and how they might influence and change us. Never be so rigid in our own mindset, that the things around us could change us for the better. It’s one of the things I love most about travelling, especially when I go outside of my comfort zone, travelling alone. I know for a fact that part of who I am today, I’ve become because of the people and places I’ve met on my many overseas adventures, especially those unplanned moments where a crazy chance of coincidence lands you in the right place at the right time with the right person.

Sometimes the circumstances of life, will force you into situations where you begin to forget who you are and the person staring back at you in the mirror is unrecognizable. In the musical ‘Waitress,’ the protagonist, Jenna comes to the realisation she has ended up in a life, not of her choosing. She sings in ‘She Used To Be Mine’:

It’s not what I asked for Sometimes life just slips in through a back door And carves out a person And makes you believe it’s all true

It’s easy to believe sometimes we are the person based on the circumstances life lands us in. I love the quote, “Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it.” We don’t have to be defined by the failures we’ve faced, the health diagnosis we’ve been given. We choose who we want to be. I love Jenna’s epiphany in the song where she is determined to make a change for herself.

And you’re not what I asked for If I’m honest I know I would give it all back For a chance to start over And rewrite an ending or two For the girl that I knew

We will inevitably face people who will try to tell us who they think we are or should be, based on information they’ve heard (whether it’s true or baseless rumours). They’ll make assumptions about us before they even know us. We have no control over the version of ‘us’ that other people choose to see us as, because the truth is, we only ever know the version of a person that they chose to show us. At the end of the day, we should not put too much time and effort into the thoughts and opinions others have of us. I’ve always loved the saying “Lions don’t lose sleep over opinions of sheep.” Billie Eilish reflects on this very thing in her song, ‘Not My Reponsibility’:

Who decides what that makes me, what that means? Is my value based only on your perception? Or is your opinion of me not my responsibility?

I’ve learnt to drop any mask that I’ve worn, choosing to be unapologetically me. What you see is what you get. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to be around me. I’ve come to really LOVE ME! I’ve seen different variations of self-love quotes over the years and have remixed my own that I’ve used in countless pep talks to students, colleagues, family and friends over the years.

“The one person that you will spend your entire life with, is yourself. So you better love yourself as much as you can.”

So whether you are finding yourself or becoming yourself, the most important thing I’ve learnt is to base it on what you love. We attract what we are, so it makes sense to embrace the things we love and let go of the nuanced complexities we create to fit into different groups we think are cool or popular, but just aren’t us. In the closing words of Taylor Swift’s song ‘Daylight,’ which closes the ‘Lover’ album:

I wanna be defined by the things that I love Not the things I hate Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night I, I just think that You are what you love

[meggtheegg]

Newest random observations from seeing DEH again

-Andrew Barth Feldman is??? so tiny??? How can that voice come out of that little body? -For real, his voice is mindblowingly good. His WTAW is the best I’ve heard live, in my opinion, and there’s been a lot of incredible ones. -There are new projections and they’re so crisp and bright and good. Also, you see a lot more of the kids’ social media feeds/messaging apps. Evan is a part of multiple plant-related Facebook groups, if I remember correctly. At one point Jared has sent Evan a text that just says “DUDE!!”  -Alex’s Connor cries a lot. I think a solid 50% of his time onstage while he’s alive is spent crying. -Gabi was on as Zoe and I think her costumes are really different than the usual ones. Lots of stripes. -Samantha Williams may be my new favorite Alana. She’s so cheerful and sweet, but you don’t want to get on her bad side bc she’s also vicious.  -Also, I’ve criticized Lisa Brescia’s Heidi in the past, but she changed a lot about her performance since I last saw the show and she fucking murdered me this time. -During the scene where Evan’s sitting at the Murphys’ table, the note is projected all over the stage, because that is what the whole conversation is hinging on. If he could tell them the truth about that, then it would all be over. But then as For Forever happens and his story goes more in-depth, the words are overtaken by pictures of the orchard. You are physically watching the lie evolve in the projections. -Sky has taken on Colton Ryan’s Jared Cackle™️ and it’s great -Alex Boniello is actually kind of terrifying in Sincerely Me. He plays it like a literal puppet, and keeps looking at what his body is doing with surprise and confusion, making it very clear that everything he’s doing is out of his control. It takes a song that’s usually hilarious but messed up if you think about it and makes it really feel gross and wrong from the get-go (which is what he’s going for, I think.)  -Andrew does this twitchy thing with his face that’s hard to describe but v good. -For some reason, the audience laughed when Evan dropped the notecards??? It lowkey made the panic attack scene really awkward for everyone. -Gabi’s Zoe seems very emotionally torn. She doesn’t want to let herself believe that she loved her brother, because then she has to face the idea that they could have reconciled if one of them had just reached out to the other. When Evan assures her that Connor loved her in spite of their tense relationship, I think it takes her own guilt away, and that allows her to finally let her emotions in. -It was hilarious seeing Gerard Canonico in the projections with some fake name during You Will Be Found, with full knowledge that he was making his Jeremy debut down the street. -My mom thought Alex Boniello was wearing a wig -The note and the emails are almost constantly in the projections, in some way -There was also a glimpse at Connor’s Facebook messages, but they were always either blurred or replaced with the words from the fake emails. -I think Jared and Evan had a twelve-day Snapchat streak -Usually, imaginary Connor softens up during the “Did you fall or did you let go?” scene, but he definitely didn’t. He was yelling at him the whole time, and the reprise of For Forever felt threatening, rather than comforting. Evan was crying the whole time and trying to get away from him. -The orchard scene is still so goddamn pretty, oh my god

[planetsam]

Michael Guerin, Space Pirate

Huge shout out to @signoraviolettavalery who made a great post about a Martian au that I cranked up the angst on by deciding Alex would be a great space voyeur to Michael’s space pirate. 

Being stuck on the graveyard shift feels oddly appropriate.

He thinks Michael would have loved the irony of it.

Alex takes a long drink from his coffee. He watched the launch after it happened, in one of the staff break rooms. He didn’t think much of it, only the 3AM shift he had the next morning was on his mind. Now he wishes things were different. Not that he fully expected his high school fling to remember him, or to realize that he was working for NASA as well. Alex is in SatCom, he monitors their satellites. Eyes in the sky, some people call him, but he likes to think of himself as an Interplanetary Voyeur. Most of his education and training goes to waste. He didn’t mind it when he felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, making sure that everyone got home safely. 

Now when he looks at the red planet, all he thinks is how Michael finally got his wish. 

Michael always wanted to be part of something bigger. He also wanted to get the hell off the planet. Alex remembers their endless conversations about it, laying under the real stars when they could and the fake, tacked on stars when they couldn’t. Michael found his way off the planet. And was the most popular astronaut to boot. He was the only one surprised at that. Alex saw his face everywhere. Each time it kicked up a gut punch of emotions. Mostly now it was a sadness that was far too familiar when it came to him, to them—now though there was a finality to it. The idea that Michael would be bones on Mars and the only way Alex would ever see him was in old footage was borderline incomprehensible. For the moment Alex let himself not think about it and focus instead on his job. The storm had cleared and he focused on what they could see. It was highly unlikely they would ever see Michael’s body, the dust storm would have buried him. But Alex hopes he does. Michael deserves that closure.

Taking another hit of caffeine, he turns to scrolling through the pictures and cataloguing things that have shifted in the dust. He frowns and zooms in towards the HAB. Alex refines the pictures, teasing out a clearer image. He can picture the conversation in his head, he knows the exact arguments. He brings up the images from the past few days. The way things have shifted does not line up with what is in front of him. The solar panels should be completely covered, but they are clean. Spotless, or as spotless as anything gets on Mars. He looks again and triple checks just to make sure. The chance is impossibly slim. But his hand is already reaching for his phone. He thumbs in the number for security.

“I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Kapoor,” He says, “this is Alex Manes in SatCom.”

“Are you sure it’s an emergency?” The bored voice asks. Alex isn’t sure of anything at the moment.

“Yes,” He says instead.

The head of the mission is wildly above his pay grade and Alex has been raised to respect the chain of command. Why his violations of it seem intrinsically linked to Michael Guerin is something he doesn’t have the capacity to figure out at the moment. Not after the phone rings twice and he hears the man on the other end clear his throat. God, he’s woken his boss up at 3:35 am. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is Alex Manes in SatCom,” he says, “I think Michael Guerin is alive,” there is a distinct bang and a groan, a whispered apology and the sound of feet moving, “the solar panels are clean.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the wind?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, glancing up at the screen as the next round of images come through. He almost drops the phone, “sir, the Rover has moved.”

“What?!”

“The rover moved,” he says, scrambling to look at the photos again, “the solar panels are clean and the rover has moved.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Fuck. Mars.

Fuck it so hard.

Michael is over this planet. He wants off. Why he can’t find a planet he wants to stay on is beyond him and now definitely is not the time for those deep philosophical questions. He’s got more pressing issues like making sure the hole in his gut closes without infection, finding a way to supplement his food and, oh yeah, contact earth. 

“Look, I’m not upset about being left behind,” he tells the log, “that’s protocol. What pisses me off is the fact that I’m doing everyone’s homework,” he shakes his head, “here’s my new universal constant: a group project will always end with one person doing all the work. We’ll call it Guerin’s Law.”

He has an idea for contacting earth. The problem is that it rides on earth knowing he’s contacting them. He’s got no idea if anyone has even figured out he’s alive. He doubts it. But there’s a chance. He knew it was bullshit but he had an affection for the dramatic Rover that gave it’s dying words and sang itself a birthday song every year. Michael has had plenty of those birthdays. And of course when he’s already doing everyone’s work, he now has to do the extra credit and pull off the save. If he doesn’t get an A, he’s fucking suing. He looks in the camera, aware this could be his last message.

“Captain Evans,” He says, “none of this is your fault, I forgive you for everything if that’s what you need to hear,” his solemn face turns deadly, “but if this doesn’t work and I die listening to your alarmingly inclusive Donna Summer, I will turn your life into the karaoke bar from hell.”

Seems like a good note to go out on.

Summer eat your heart out.

Alex looks over the chart again.

And again.

The spotlight is nerve wracking. They have established Michael is alive, but they don’t have a way of communicating. He knows Michael is trying to figure something out and everyone is scrambling to find it. He also knows he has an advantage. It’s been years, so many thing have changed, but he’s got a good idea of how Michael’s mind works. He follows the paths the Rover is making and connects the dots before anyone else. 

“Opportunity?”

“It lines up,” he says, “he’s going for the Rover.” 

“Let me make some calls.”

Thankfully the Opportunity team is largely still around. By the time Michael gets  it up and working, they are ready. The images come in and patch together. Alex is awake for twenty hours straight but he’s there when the images come in. Michael standing in front of two signs and holding a third. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat and it’s got nothing to do with the truly staggering amount of coffee he has consumed. A cheer goes up and he sits down before his knees can do anything like buckle. Michael’s face is just visible. Alex can make out a single curl that’s half escaped from his cap and it’s always the little things. Michael is alive. They point the camera towards the ‘yes’ sign and the next image is blurry but only because he’s jumping up and down. He’s got no back up supplies and he’s jumping up and down.

Alex thinks he might be the one who dies in all of this.

OPP: Huston we had a problem.

DSN: Good to hear from you. 

OPP: You have no idea.

So the communications issue is more or less resolved which is awesome. And he’s saved Opportunity. Which makes him even more awesome. All around it’s awesome. Except Isobel still thinks he’s dead which is less than ideal. So he’s in a little trouble on that one. But he would trade everything for her to yell at him. Not that he’s got a lot to trade. 

OPP: hey, DSN whose babysitting me tonight?

DSN: SatCom

OPP: no shit

DSN: language

OPP: fuck

OPP: whose babysitting? got a name?

DSN: alex

OPP: i’m michael

DSN: i know

OPP: does this mean i’m super famous? think i can get free fries at the mess?

DSN: no it’s alex. from high school.

Michael is literally on a different planet but he jumps anyway and twists around like he’s being spied on. Alex was a punk kid who, okay, he may have been slightly in love with. But his homophobic dick of a dad ended that. He may have crossed Michael’s mind a few times, but never enough to do something like look him up and see that they worked for the same place. For some reason he feels more comforted by this news than he has by almost anything else. Except maybe that people knew he was alive at all. 

OPP: no fucking way. i thought you said you were joining the Air Force.

DSN: i did. then I went to grad school and joined NASA. 

OPP: wait SatCom figured out i was alive. was that you?

DSN: yes

DSN: i saw the solar panels were clear

OPP: and you thought that was me?

DSN: i figured even you would clean if your life depended on it.

Michael snorts, it’s not like he’s had much to clean back when he knew Alex. He was living in his truck. But when he thinks about his desk at NASA—okay it is a mess. He can admit that. It blows his mind that Alex has been here the whole time. That Alex figured out he was alive. He tries to reconcile the idea of who he remembers with whoever found him. But all he can picture is the kid who unknowingly saved his life more times than he can count. More times plus one, if he thinks about it. Probably plus more to come, if things keep going this way. 

OPP: do you still have that septum ring?

DSN: go to sleep

OPP: come on, do you? 

DSN: no

OPP: too bad, I thought it was kind of hot.

DSN: bed, michael

OPP: yes dad

DSN: please do not call me ‘dad’, they are reviewing these

OPP: ok daddy

Captain Isobel Evans reads the message several times to be sure. Then she gathers everyone together. She’s thought she was a good leader this whole time, focusing on getting the crew that was still alive back home even though the only thing she wanted to do was cry over the loss of her crew member. She runs the scenario over and over again. But it remains the same. There was no other choice. Now she doesn’t know what to think when she has to tell them. It’s only Max she looks at when she speaks. 

“Michael’s alive.”

Pandemonium erupts from the others but Max stares at her. His own horror and guilt reflect hers. Michael is alive but he’s on another planet. Michael’s alive but who knows for how long. She made the call to leave him, but as the ship’s doctor he made the call that he was probably dead. They are both culpable and innocent, but Isobel blames herself more than anyone. She should have given the order to wait, no matter the risks. They all scramble over to the communications screen. Kyle gets there first because it is, after all, his chair. He refers to it as his ship too. Then again he is the one who flies it. 

HRMS: sorry we left you on mars, we just don’t like you that much. 

OPP: assholes

OPP: hows the cptn?

HRMS: we’re all good. how are you?

OPP: bored af

OPP: look. boobies ( . Y . )

HRMS: michael!

That night Max sits hunched over in his bunk, arms wrapped around himself. He never should have said that Michael was dead. But he and Isobel have been running over everything. But now it turns out Michael is alive and he can’t fathom what it must be like for him to be back there alone. Did he know that they would learn he was alive? Did he think he would die there a second time and no-one would know? The thoughts are horrible and each occurs to him in rapid succession until he thinks they might drive him crazy.

“Hey,” Liz slips into his pod, “how are you holding up?”

“I told Iz there was no way,” he says, “he’s been there the whole time and i had no idea—“ he stares at her, aware he is asking for answers she doesn’t have, “what if he dies there? How is he going to spend four years there until we launch another mission?” 

“He’s going to be fine,” she says, cradling his face in her hands. He ignores the rules, the fraternization line they always dance around and leans into her touch, “he’ll be okay and soon you will laugh about this,” she smiles, “after you buy him all the vodka on earth.”

“I’ll buy him whatever he wants, as long as we get him back.”

OPP: alex

OPP: ALEX

DSN: i’m sorry, Alex has been transferred to SatCon.

OPP: GO GET HIM

Huddled in the Rover, Michael forces his breathing to be steady. He cannot afford for something else to go wrong. Behind him, the HAB stands as a shell, blown when he failed to pressurize it correctly. It broke. He broke it. His crops are gone and he feels like crying. Which is not going to help. He can’t panic. He can’t flip out. He wants Max and Isobel and his pod on the ship that’s getting farther away with each second. Mostly he wants the person on earth whose his lifeline in this. He forces himself to look away from the screen. Maybe Alex is asleep somewhere. Maybe he’s just as fed up with his bullshit as he was in college. Michael grips the chair. No, no he is not giving into his abandonment issues because he’s literally the only person on a planet and his only friend won’t answer the phone. Mars is his planet and he refuses to have them go down like this. 

DSN: michael what happened?

“Thank you Martian God,” he breathes

OPP: the hab depressurized 

OPP: i’m ok. crops are gone. all of its gone.

DSN: you’re ok. thats the main thing.

OPP: says the guy with seamless at his fingertips

DSN: i told you you were going to have to learn to cook one day

Michael laughs despite everything. And okay maybe it ends in a sob, but just one. Alex throwing shade like they’re texting and this isn’t a life or death situation makes him feel so much better. He knows Alex is probably hyperaware of being watched but he’s still willing to do it. Michael knows it shouldn’t be a big deal but he’s alone on a planet. The only person who can judge him is in a mirror and he sure as hell doesn’t bring one of those on the rover. 

DSN: michael are you there?

OPP: i’m there i’m just outraged

OPP: i am an extraordinary boiler

DSN: do i want curly or regular fries with this sandwich?

OPP: asshole

OPP: thanks

DSN: hang in there

Maria Deluca, astrodynamicist extraordinaire figures it out. 

She checks her math, swears loudly and breaks her almost new piece of chalk. Guerin is a planet away and he still manages to ruin her love life for at least—ugh—another year. Asshole. Why couldn’t he have just stayed on the ground with Alex like he wanted to? She writes out her calculations and tells the mission heads. Then she does the right thing and hides the info in the latest data dump for the ship, knowing her wife and her bff will figure it out.

That evening she finds Alex in SatCon. 

He looks awful and she feels the same annoyance at Guerin. They’ve both slept with him and she might have had feelings for the mop haired cowboy at one point, but Guerin is good at leaving and being so focused on one thing that he fails to see anything else. Like an unhappy boyfriend or girlfriend. She sits next to Alex and hands him a cup of coffee. 

“Any word from the space cowboy?”

“His food supplies are ok but the rations are getting to him,” he says, “part of its mental but the rest—“ he shakes his head, “he shouldn’t have to deal with his issues up there.”

Michael was food insecure for most of his childhood. He’s good at functioning on limited calories but he’s also scared of not getting his next meal. The fact that Alex remembers that makes Maria want to hug him. She settles for sighing and shaking her head at the situation. All of NASA has been reading their back and forth. For science. The fact that it reads increasingly like a romance novel is definitely not important. And people definitely aren’t taking sides. She doesn’t have a Team Alex t shirt like some people. Just a baseball cap. 

“He’ll be okay,” she says.

Alex nods wordlessly but his eyes are glued to the screen where their communications occur. She nudges him. 

“Say hi,” She says. 

“I can’t. He needs to focus.”

“You can still say hi,” she says. 

“It’s a waste of resources.”

Rolling her eyes at men and their excuses she nudges his chair out of the way and gets at the keyboard.

DSN: hi

“Maria!”

Ten seconds later the reply come.

OPP: hey i was just about to message you

OPP: you miss me that much?

“Maria—“ Alex tries for the keyboard.

DSN: always

Alex grabs it finally.

DSN: adokfjosiaf

OPP: you ok?

DSN: sorry. yes. 

OPP: good. i miss you too.

Alex sucks in a breath and Maria grins. It’s almost almost worth another year with her wife. Not quite but almost. Alex gulps and stares at the message. His fingers hover over the keyboard as he hesitates, swamped by an insecurity Maria has seen before. She looks between him and the keyboard, sending every mental signal she has to him. 

DSN: keep going and we can see each other again

OPP: dunno, you could always come to Mars 

OPP: visit me

DSN: I like earth 

OPP: you’re making this song way too relevant 

DSN: what are you listening to?

OPP: I would do anything for love

“That is my song,” Maria says, “my song with my wife.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Alex offers.

Maria hates them both.

“This is a mutiny,” Isobel says, “we all need to participate and we all need to agree. Kyle and I know the consequences. We’re military. But the rest of you need to understand this could mean the end of your careers. They might not let any of you fly again,” she says, “it also means another year without your families. There isn’t any shame in wanting to go home. We do it together or not at all.”

“No one gets left behind if we can get them,” Kyle says, “I might be flying this thing but I am still a doctor. Do no harm. I vote we go back.”

“Michael is my brother,” Max says. 

“My family is here,” Liz tells them, gripping Max’s hand, “let’s do it.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Jenna, their long suffering media relations director says.

“The Hermes is in the middle of an unsanctioned maneuver to slingshot themselves back to Mars using earth’s gravity as an assist.”

“So a mutiny,” she says, “you want me to put out a press release that says a bunch of astronauts turned space pirates have performed a mutiny?”

“Actually it’s Guerin who would asked to be referred to as a space pirate, since he is technically commandeering a vehicular over international territory.”

She sighs. It’s too early for a migraine. 

“I hate everyone in this room.”

DSN: michael

DSN:  michael update me

DSN: GUERIN

DSN: captain blonde beard, do you copy?

OPP: CBB: i copy. everything’s good

DSN: you are taking this way too far

OPP: CBB: that’s kind of judgmental for someone whose not a space pirate

OPP: CBB: if you were here id make you walk the plank. by that i mean solar panel

DSN: find water and maybe it’ll work

OPP: CBB: i have to starve, become a pirate, now i gotta find water too?

OPP: CBB: anything else?

DSN: come home 

OPP: CBB: only because I want to, not because you’re making me

He modified the ship like they tell him but until he’s in there,  he doesn’t feel so great about sitting there. Not until his radio crackles to life with the first human voice he’s heard in over a year.

“Guerin, do you copy?”

“Iz!” His voice breaks around the syllable of her name.

“Michael, oh thank god,” she says. Isobel has had her game face on this whole mission, hearing the relief makes the tears break free, “we’re launching you, strap in.”

“Tell Valenti to be careful,” he says.

“I got you, Guerin,” Kyle says, “you ready to come home?”

God that sounds so nice. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of nice having this all to myself,” he chokes out.

“We got you, hang tight.”

He blacks out. 

When he comes to, the ship is too far away. He can hear the swearing. It’s bad. He takes a deep breath and refuses to give in to the panic. The side door opens and he sees Isobel coming towards him. Max is on the side of the ship. His family is there. 

“I’m going Iron Man,” he says, punching a hole in his hand.

“Michael!”

He aims himself as best he can and propels towards Isobel. She reaches and just when he thinks this isn’t going to work, they collide. They lurch violently to the side but she locks her arms and legs around him and snaps a carabiner to the front of his suit. The lead connecting them snaps taut and for a moment he’s sure it failed. He’s dead in space. But he blinks several time and nothing has changed. The relief shatters him in a way he didn’t know was possible and Isobel lets out the best laugh he’s ever heard in his life.

“I got him!” She calls and everyone erupts into cheers, “I got you,” she says.

“You have terrible taste in music,” he tells her. 

They reel them in. The only possible reason he would let go of her is to throw his arms around his brother. Max clutches him and Isobel together as the hatch seals and the chamber pressurizes. Michael collapses against his siblings who take his weight immediately, undoing his helmet. Their voice goes into his ears, no radio or texts. But the first human hands that touch him belong to a friend.

“Mikey!” He’s not even mad about the nickname as she hugs him and then works on getting the suit off him.

“Liz! Get me—“

“On it.”

She gets him out and then Max and Isobel are there. Kyle and Liz fall with them and it’s a big pile of tears and hugs and laughter and snot. He doesn’t care. The pile make their way to the comms to message that they have him. Unwilling to let go of each other even though Michael is very aware that he needs a shower.  

CMMND: good work! Come home.

 Alex has his last 3AM shift the night before they get back. Maria keeps him company. She suggests that he come with her to the families area but he turns her down. He’s not family. His boss insists he come with him to the command center. He watches the ship land. When he sees Michael pop out, throw down his helmet like he made a touchdown and throw his hands up, he feels like the breath he’s been holding for the six months it’s taken to get back to earth can finally be released. Michael is okay. Everyone is okay.  He staggers from the room.

“I’m gonna just—five minutes,” he says. He’s woken up every night certain the news will come in that Michael is dead. He has to go to a second funeral. Michael is fine. He’s dizzyingly exhausted with the thought. He drops onto the couch. It will be hours before he sees him. “Five minutes,” he tells himself and closes his eyes.

He wakes up to the smell of hazelnut coffee. 

He opens his eyes, already knowing what he’s going to see. All the ways he thought about this going, Michael crouching there in a NASA onesie with his hair wet and two cups of coffee isn’t it. Alex carefully sits up, afraid that this is a dream. But Michael stays every time he blinks. When he’s sitting, Michael holds out the coffee cup. 

“A small token of my—“ 

Alex throws himself into his arms. The coffee goes flying as Michael bands his arms around him, equally tight. Two years of text messages sent through a Rover and suddenly all of their other senses are flooding with each other. Alex never wants to let go of him and he can feel Michael trembling against him. Their faces are buried in each other necks and he’s never been so glad they are the same height. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Michael breathes into his neck and Alex clutches him closer.

“This was all you.”

“It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t seen me.”

They pull back enough just enough to look at each other, taking in the differences. The reports all say how driven Michael has been with his recovery and Alex has been pushing harder at his own pt. In that moment he doesn’t think that it matters. He doesn’t care what either of them look like or what state they are in. He just wants Michael here. Michael presses his lips together, his eyes dragging to his lips. After everything, there’s something he immediately recognizes. 

“You’re not seeing anyone,  are you?” He says.

“No, this really infuriating guy named Captain Blonde Beard keeps texting me at 3am.”

Michael is still laughing when he kisses him. 

This, Alex thinks, is more than worth the wait. 

[thecoleopterawithana]

I Just Believe In Me

AKA John’s Disillusionment

This came about as a desire to unpack a vital component of John’s character that I feel goes detrimentally overlooked in the fandom, as it is a major motivator behind some of his most impactful decisions. It was something I had wanted to get into for a while, but @amoralto ‘s latest post about it finally pushed me into doing it. Please go check out and spread this amazing piece of information.

Note that this post will mainly deal with the breaking of faith. It barely scratches the surface of John as the Dreamer and all the unrealised expectations he weaved throughout his life. With the danger of repeating myself, I’ll probably leave that analysis to a companion post.

As usual, if you want to glimpse into their inner workings, look no further than their music. So, let’s start with the first clear example of John reacting to the hurt and betrayal of failed expectations:

Sexy Sadie, what have you done You made a fool of everyone You made a fool of everyone Sexy Sadie, ooh, what have you done

Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules You laid it down for all to see You laid it down for all to see Sexy Sadie, ooh, you broke the rules

One sunny day the world was waiting for a lover She came along and turned on everyone Sexy Sadie, the greatest of them all

Sexy Sadie, how did you know The world was waiting just for you The world was waiting just for you Sexy Sadie, ooh, how did you know

Sexy Sadie, you'll get yours yet However big you think you are However big you think you are Sexy Sadie, ooh, you'll get yours yet

We gave her everything we owned just to sit at her table Just a smile would lighten everything Sexy Sadie, she's the latest and the greatest of them all

She made a fool of everyone Sexy Sadie

However big you think you are Sexy Sadie

— ‘Sexy Sadie’ from The Beatles (1968). Recorded 19 July - 21 August 1968.

John wrote it as he was leaving India after the Maharishi allegedly made a sexual advance towards the actress Mia Farrow (the story, which came from “Magic” Alex, was doubted by George, Paul or Cynthia).

That was inspired by Maharishi. I wrote it when we had our bags packed and were leaving. It was the last piece I wrote before I left India. I just called him, 'Sexy Sadie,' instead of (sings) 'Maharishi what have you done, you made a fool...' I was just using the situation to write a song, rather calculatingly but also to express what I felt. I was leaving the Maharishi with a bad taste. You know, it seems that my partings are always not as nice as I'd like them to be.

— John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff (1980).   

Donovan, a singer, songwriter and guitarist that was a friend of the Beatles and had accompanied them to Rishikesh, made the following very astute observation: 

Psychotherapists call it projection. When difficulties are uncovered, and it’s hard to face them, you project them on to the teacher. In my view, John’s projection had nothing to do with Maharishi and everything to do with his private life. I think John later realised that.

— Donovan, interviewed by Mark Paytress for Mojo: The Butlins of bliss. (September, 2008)

But now, let’s see something made more obvious by the intensity of the moment. Let’s see how John faces the biggest disillusionment of his life; how he wakes up from the Dream.

God is a concept By which we measure Our pain I'll say it again God is a concept By which we measure Our pain

I don't believe in magic I don't believe in I-Ching I don't believe in Bible I don't believe in tarot I don't believe in Hitler I don't believe in Jesus I don't believe in Kennedy I don't believe in Buddha I don't believe in mantra I don't believe in Gita I don't believe in yoga I don't believe in kings I don't believe in Elvis I don't believe in Zimmerman I don't believe in Beatles I just believe in me Yoko and me And that's reality

The dream is over What can I say? The dream is over Yesterday I was the dream weaver But now I'm reborn I was the Walrus But now I'm John And so dear friends You just have to carry on The dream is over

— ‘God’ from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970). Recorded 26 September - 9 October 1970.

And channelling the anger and resentment born out of the pain and humiliation:

I told you before, stay away from my door Don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother The freaks on the phone won't leave me alone So don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother No

I, I found out I, I found out

Now that I showed you what I been through Don't take nobody's word what you can do There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky Now that I found out I know I can cry

I, I found out I, I found out

Some of you sitting there with yer cock in yer hand Don't get you nowhere don't make you a man I heard something 'bout my Ma and my Pa They didn't want me so they made me a star

I, I found out I, I found out

Old Hare Krishna got nothing on you Just keep you crazy with nothing to do Keep you occupied with pie in the sky There ain't no Guru who can see through yer eyes

I, I found out I, I found out

I've seen through junkies, I been through it all I've seen religion from Jesus to Paul Don't let them fool you with dope and cocaine No one can harm you, feel yer own pain

I, I found out I, I found this out I, I found out

Oh, oh, oh

— ‘I Found Out’ from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970). Recorded 27 September 1970.

We can see John lay out a lot of the sentiments expressed in ‘I Found Out’ in the interview that prompted all this analysis in the first place, from the identification of his original source of pain and fear (rejection by his parents and consequent abandonments respectively), to the urging to “feel your own pain” and how that only happens when you cast away the “God” in your life:

BLACKBURN: [Athur Janov’s] ideas seem to have something in common with [R. D.] Laing in that he doesn’t want to reconcile people to their misery, to adjust them to the world, but rather to make them face up to its causes? 

JOHN: Well, his thing is to feel the pain that’s accumulated inside you ever since your childhood. I had to do it to really kill off all the religious myths. In the therapy you really feel every painful moment of your life – it’s excruciating, you are forced to realise that your pain, the kind that makes you wake up afraid with your heart pounding, is really yours and not the result of somebody up in the sky. It’s the result of your parents and your environment. As I realised this it all started to fall into place. This therapy forced me to have done with all the Godshit. All of us growing up have come to terms with too much pain. Although we repress it, it’s still there. The worst pain is that of not being wanted, of realising your parents do not need you in the way you need them. When I was a child I experienced moments of not wanting to see the ugliness, not wanting to see not being wanted. This lack of love went into my eyes and into my mind. Janov doesn’t just talk to you about this but makes you feel it – once you’ve allowed yourself to feel again, you do most of the work yourself. When you wake up and your heart is going like the clappers or your back feels strained, or you develop some other hang-up, you should let your mind go to the pain and the pain itself will regurgitate the memory which originally caused you to suppress it in your body. In this way the pain goes to the right channel instead of being repressed again, as it is if you take a pill or a bath, saying, ‘Well, I’ll get over it.’ Most people channel their pain into God or masturbation or some dream of making it. The therapy is like a very slow acid trip which happens naturally in your body. It is hard to talk about, you know, because you feel ‘I am pain’ and it sounds sort of arbitrary, but pain to me now has a different meaning because of having physically felt all these extraordinary repressions. It was like taking gloves off, and feeling your own skin for the first time. It’s a bit of a drag to say so, but I don’t think you can understand this unless you’ve gone through it – though I try to put some of it over on the album. But for me at any rate it was all part of dissolving the Godtrip or father-figure trip. Facing up to reality instead of always looking for some kind of heaven.

— John Lennon, interview w/ Robin Blackburn and Tariq Ali for Red Mole. March 8th-22nd, 1971.

I give my opinion on John’s method of expurging his pain on the reblog of the post itself, if you want to check it out. 

Of course, Amoralto ends the post by tagging it with the most perfect, all encapsulating tag:

“Paul is a concept by which we measure our pain”

And if this is not the crux of the matter, I don’t know what is! So let’s unpack this!

First, we have to understand the original quote: 

God is a concept by which we measure our pain 

I think the Blackburn interview really helps us realise what John was getting at. I can’t say that I’m familiar with theology or the exploration of the purpose of faith, but I see John as addressing how people use God - and all the other things he claims he doesn't believe in anymore - as coping mechanisms for the pain in their lives. The greater the pain, the more you cling to these "distractions" from reality. 

Though, this is not simply about distractions, like drugs, sex and success, as a means of escapism. When the despair is overwhelming, you want someone or something you can hand it all over to, and an all-powerful entity to whom you can just turn everything in and absolve yourself of the responsibility. And this Father figure will either make it better and make the pain go away, or it will tell you that there is a grander purpose to the pain, life works in mysterious ways, and it is as it is destined to be. 

But the main point here is John's need to hand over responsibility. John hates the responsibility of having choices and thus having to deal with its consequences. He is a naturally passive person. 

I think this goes back to his insecurity and lack of self-esteem. It's like he doesn't have the confidence in his own decisions to deal with their possible consequences. I mean, he REACTED rashly, completely at the mercy of his emotions. But then he did everything possible to absolve himself of responsibility in the aftermath. It's somebody else's fault that he's hurting and thus reacting like this, it's somebody else's fault that they don't see how much he's hurting and do nothing about it, it's somebody else's fault if they end up hurt as a result. 

Lack of self-love seems to go hand in hand with feeling like a victim of your circumstances. I believe it's the fear, the insecurity, that takes away your notion of agency. 

So, if you don't have agency over your life (or don't want to face the trouble of having it), somebody else has to have it. God has agency, as an omnipotent being. Yoko has agency, as John demonstrated by completely capitulating every bit of his decision power to her. 

But before that, who was the person in John's life whom he could hand over responsibility for all the life decisions, the one who would take care of everything? 

Paul. 

Paul was the original and long lasting idol in John's life, which remained past many others, despite John's attempts to cast him away, to burn down the Golden Temple, during the breakup. 

Though there's not only the aspect of removal of responsibility to it. It also relates to a matter of identity. 

John hated himself as he was, but he was always hoping that if he emulated his idols, his Gods, if he made himself to their image, if he became this external thing that he loved, maybe he would become worthy of love by proxy. That's why he calls himself a chameleon. He's always morphing to reflect his newest fascination, so that he can evolve to something worthy of awe, of Love, too.

Maybe that’s what he is getting at in these verses:

The dream is over Yesterday I was the dream weaver But now I'm reborn I was the Walrus But now I'm John

Because, as we know, “the Walrus was Paul”, which according to John means:

JOHN: And throwing in the line “the Walrus was Paul” just to confuse everybody a bit more. And because I felt slightly guilty because I’d got Yoko, and he’d got nothing, and I was gonna quit. [laughs; bleak] And so I thought ‘Walrus’ has now become [in] meaning, “I am the one.” It didn’t mean that in the song, originally.

He has this desire to just merge identities with that of his chosen idol, so when Paul was his religion, he too was the Walrus. But now he is John. 

Well, JohnandYoko.

John was constantly getting caught up with new idols during his lifetime. This new “religion”, this new promise of absolution and relief from his pain, this new better identity he could assume: Elvis & the Rocker, Stu & the Artist, LSD & the Enlightened Prophet, the Maharishi & the Enlightened Student, Yoko & the Revolutionary (also Yoko as the Mother and Brian and Klein as the Father). 

But despite his devotions, the pain just didn't disappear and he didn't love himself more (or the love he received just didn't fill the void), and invariably the moment came when he became disillusioned, when his faith was shattered, this isn't the magic solution after all, it's just another lie, another conman. And he tore them down, rebelled against authority, walked away in anger, never looking back. Another fallen idol. 

But in all of this, he never quite managed to walk away from Paul. His faith, his love, was never lost completely. 

Because Paul was no ordinary God. He was extraordinary, but through his partnership with him, he made John extraordinary too. Together, they were Gods! And I think that’s the big difference; like Paul is keen on reminding us: they were Equal. 

And maybe it was this unshakeable fascination, not only with Paul but with the magical thing that was JohnandPaul, that made John truly believe that he and Paul were just destined to be, cosmically connected. Why else would Paul keep standing within him even after the biggest attempt at casting him away imaginable? 

Because, like with the others, the moment came when he became disillusioned with this omnipotent figure who was supposed to have all the answers, who John could just merge with and let him take those reins. 

Paul could handle the things on the ground so that John could dream in the Universe. But the truly magical thing was that Paul could dream with John in the Universe too, and help him materialize those down on the ground. 

He would have John's devotion in return for the removal of the pain, rescue from the fear and above else, the healing of his being with Love. 

So when the pain didn't go away, the fear festered, and these annulled any love that he was getting, making him disbelieve it. John started to resent the idol again, became paranoid. Because if it was the idol's responsibility, it was also his fault. He was the one with the agency in this situation, not John. If things aren't getting better it is because of him, because he isn't trying hard enough, because he isn't attentive, because he's thriving while John is going through murder. So he mustn't love John after all. Worse, John is being taken advantage of again, conned by another false promise, stripped of his control, of his hold in his life, just so he could be smothered, buried to be used as a stepping stone. 

Of course, in his usual fashion, he completely ignores his own responsibility, his choice,  in handing over the reins in the first place. It's easier to just blame Paul for everything. 

Instead of listening to his own words and focusing on dealing and expurging his own suffering, he weaponized it. The resentment, born of the pain of broken expectations, morphed into incendiary anger, as he attempted to destroy the thing that had wronged him. 

But with Paul, he never quite managed to remove him from his mind. He was always there, in his very soul. 

Maybe, despite all the pain and fear, some part of him could recognise the genuineness of Paul's love for him, it's unconditionality. For that was a better love than he received from anyone else in his life. 

So, in the same way people around the world keep turning to an omnipotent/omnipresent God as someone they can just give themselves over to, hand over all the responsibility of their choices, in the hopes of being delivered from pain and fear, and being instead graced with Unconditional Love, John keeps holding on to Paul. And the degree to which he holds is a reflection of his despair, his pain. Hence, for John, "Paul is a concept by which we measure our pain". 

But Paul is also The One. Paul was the Dream. The Dream was Them.

[sayitwithsarcophilus]

Snippets from my newest original project

Misty Mountains Forest Preserve, Pekarangan, 18 Scorpii System

Olivia woke up to a little wet nose poking her in the face and immediately wished she hadn’t.  The morning sun stabbed through her closed eyelids - which Olivia considered particularly unfair since she’d been unsettlingly sober for the past three days and was in the middle of a damned cloud forest - and brought the banked fires of her headache roaring to life.  And her mouth tasted like wakebark tea and ketosis.  

Olivia felt the weight on her chest rearrange itself, and a little clawed paw batted at the mosquito netting covering her face.  “All right, all right, Mommy’s getting up.”  First step: feed the whiny space-fox-dog before he wasted away to a little pile of fur and bleached bones as a reproach to her neglectful pet care.  Correction: first step: untangle herself from the cocoon of blankets, mosquito netting, and water-resistant tarps that she slept in without falling out of her hammock and crash-landing on the forest floor.  Second step: feed Gonif.  Third step: evict any local minifauna using her boots as a crash pad.  Fourth step: rehydrate, dumbass.  What kind of amateur dies of thirst in the middle of the jungle?

After feeding Gonif, there was just enough water left in the filter-bottles to brush her teeth, and the keg bromeliads next to her campsite hadn’t refilled yet, so Olivia set off find a new source.  Bromeliads and pitcher plants of various sorts were common in this part of the jungle, but most of them weren’t big enough to be worthwhile and the ones that were had something living in them.  Olivia had no idea if unfiltered space pollywog pee was dangerous to humans, but she had enough to investigate at present without pursuing that particular angle.  It all went straight into the filter bottles.  Gonif had no such reservations, but Olivia figured that consuming gross stuff was par for the course for dogs in any star system.

Olivia was a little over five minutes from her campsite and had yet to encounter any plants carrying more water than would fill a martini glass when she ran into - almost literally - a stand of swordleaf bamboo with plenty of juicy young canes.  She approached the bamboo carefully - the stiff mature leaves hung at just the right height to stab her in the face - took out her knife and a water bottle, and started tapping.  Swordleaf bamboo sap may have had the texture of unset jello and tasted like oversteeped lukewarm green tea, but it was dreadfully hydrating, reasonably germ-free, and in a wet season you could fill a shot glass in a minute.  Olivia had no idea why you would want a shot glass of bamboo sap, but apparently people back on Earth did shots of sprouted wheat juice nowadays.  

While the sap was dripping, Olivia played a half-hearted game of fetch with Gonif and swatted at the bugs.  Damn, they were thick this morning.  Oh, right, she’d gone straight out for water and forgot to put on bug repellant.  Olivia dug out the jar of citronetta lotion she’d picked up in the last Hamadryad village and rubbed the lemony-herbal smelling goop over her exposed skin.  There.  Much better.

Drinking swordleaf sap always made Olivia wish for a splash of gin and a lime wedge, or at least some seltzer to cut the sliminess, but after she’d choked down half a liter of the stuff she felt, if not exactly good, then at least reconciled with her continued corporeality.  Time to acquire some breakfast and plan the day’s expeditions.  Tree Octopuses hadn’t been documented this far north, but the local microclimate was just what they liked, and Olivia had seen some promising-looking potential den sites and what might have been a midden yesterday.  And if the octopus hunt didn’t pan out, she had some epiphyte specimens that needed closer examination, or-

The chattering jungle creatures went silent, and Gonif began growling at something behind her.

-Or maybe not.  Olivia turned around, with her hand on her pruning knife, and saw a lanky blue-and-brown-plumed Lianenshi in vaguely official-looking clothes approach with her burly green bodyguard.

“Doctor Olivia Green, I presume,” the alien asked, in Lianen.

“Who’s asking?”

“I wish you to come with us and answer a few questions.”

“Yeah, well, I wish the Library of Alexandria had never been destroyed,” Olivia replied, in English.  The aliens had translator earpieces, they could damn well use them.  “You guys have a lot of nerve, just barging up and demanding to talk to me before I’ve had so much as a damn cup of tea.  Especially when you’ve got no jurisdiction, and we both know how much Hamadryads love off-world bureaucrats stomping around the woods like they own the place.  Who the hell are you, and why should I give you two the time of day instead of making a break for it and leaving you for the midges and forest rangers?”

“My associate and I represent the Interstellar Partnership For the Study of Anomalous Astrogeology and Physical Cosmology.”  The bodyguard showed Olivia an ID badge that looked legit to her admittedly unpracticed eye.  “We have questions about Cykranosh.”

“Don’t we all,” Olivia muttered.  “Sure, I’ll talk to you, but not here.  Let’s go somewhere we can sit down first.”  

“That guy was way too white to be wearing dreads,” Skylar whispered to Dionaea, gesturing at the helicopter they’d all just exited.

Dio didn’t even try to suppress her sigh.  “Skylar, he’s green.”  Their helicopter pilot was the color of a fresh spearmint leaf, with a hint of rosy flush like a very ripe Granny Smith apple.  And freckles.  And big golden-green cat eyes and biceps the size of… stoppit, brain!  “And I read online that loc-samurai-ponytail he’s got is a traditional hairstyle for Hamadryad sailors.  Traditional as in pre-contact.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Skylar conceded.  “But I don’t see any boats around here.”  “Here” was a spot of open meadow on the edge of the forest.  “And people in India used the swastika as a religious symbol for centuries before the Nazis got ahold of it.  That doesn’t mean it’s right for them to use it nowadays.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?” Dio asked, and then turned her attention back to her brochure from the Misty Mountains Park Service before Skylar could answer.

“All right, everyone!” Ms. Yuki called out.  “Put on your bug repellant, it’s midge season.  You don’t have to worry about getting space malaria or space yellow fever, but the itching isn’t fun.  Alex, Katie, Skylar, get some sun protection.  I know it doesn’t look that bright out, but some of those clouds are going to burn off by the afternoon, and this star puts out a little more UV than our own sun.”  Ms. Yuki herself was wearing an enormous floppy black hat that looked like something a beautiful, morally ambiguous young widow would wear to her late husband’s funeral.  “This is the last real plumbing for miles, so go pee and fill up your water bottles if you need to.”  Skylar cringed.  “And review the information about dangerous plants in your brochures.  I don’t want anybody rolling in the space poison ivy.  Everyone got that?”  The young people all nodded.  “Great!  We leave in five minutes.”

After a couple hours of walking, a snack break, and a brief musical interlude - “When You’re Evil” and “Death Death (Devil, Devil, Evil, Evil, Song)” turned out to be weirdly well-suited to wilderness singalongs, although Skylar tried to meld with the forest floor out of sheer embarrassment - the tame, parklike forest had turned to alien jungle.  The trail was still clear, and the crush of greenery was broken up by smaller game trails and the occasional fallen tree, but if Dionaea had been claustrophobic, the landscape would definitely have been getting to her.  

As it was, there was so much new stuff to see that it was hard to pick out specific subjects of interest.  Dio’s phone had a dozen new pictures of lichens and fungi alone and at least five for different kinds of mosses, never mind the big plants.  And she would have taken more if the lighting had been more consistent.

After another break to watch a wild tapir-sow and her babies cross the trail from a safe distance - because even Sam, Disney Princess that he was where animals were concerned, wasn’t about to risk spooking 500 pounds of muscle and tusks - the trees abruptly thinned out again and the hiking group found themselves looking into a little circular clearing.  Which was not uninhabited.

“-and I do think the planet is cursed,” a human voice said.  “Psychically, not physically.  Nothing practical went wrong that was out of the ordinary for operating in an alien environment, but there was a real emotional miasma over everything.  At first I thought it was just me - no sun, history of seasonal depression, you know how it goes - but Mi-go like it cold and dark and they felt it too.”  A different voice responded in a fluty alien language that Dio didn’t recognize.  

The clearing was occupied by three people sitting on a fallen log - a skinny old human lady wearing a local-style outfit accessorized with Earth-style hiking boots, aviator sunglasses, and a well-worn duster covered in grass stains; an unamused buff green person in futuristic tac gear who looked kind of like a Hamadryad and kind of like an orc; and a cross between a tropical bird, David Bowie, and a vintage shoujo manga character - plus one of the foxish-looking little indigenous dogs.  As soon as Dio stepped out from behind the trees, the little dog started barking its head off and the green person gave Dio their best “I have no problems with you - yet - but I could take you and your friends out without breaking a sweat, so don’t start none” look.  Dio nodded and held out her empty hands, which she really hoped wasn’t the equivalent of flipping someone off in space orc culture.

[topmixtrends]

IN RETROSPECT, it seems clear that Norman Mailer, the author, director, columnist, TV personality, war veteran, and wild-eyed raconteur, developed a sense of himself over his varied career as playing the part of a character in a novel. As he wrote of himself in his enduring record of the 1960s war protest movement, The Armies of the Night: “His consolation in those hours when he was most uncharitable to himself is that taken at his very worst he was at least still worthy of being a character in a novel by Balzac, win one day, lose the next, and do it with boom! and baroque in the style.”

At several decades’ remove, Alex Gilvarry has taken Mailer up on his daydream (with apologies to Balzac), starting out with Norman Mailer and transmuting his essence into his own Alan Eastman. Eastman Was Here, premised on a trip to report the Vietnam War for the New York Herald that Mailer never in fact made, follows a once-celebrated author in the aftermath of his wife leaving him. To win her back, Eastman decides to venture out into harm’s way — or in the general direction of harm, where menace might be lurking in the streets outside his hotel in Saigon — and there encounters a talented, young journalist named Anne Channing. Not so much a story of the Vietnam War, Eastman Was Here explores the absurd excesses and shameful depredations of the masculine ego, somewhat in the manner that Jonathan Franzen renders his Lambert family patriarch vulnerable in The Corrections.

“Women commanded their own destiny,” thinks Alan Eastman, “unlike in his mother’s time. In fact, this is what he most admired about the women in his life. All of his past lovers had some big, commanding presence, an outward destiny, that made him feel the need to attach himself, for maybe that’s what made him happy.”

Well, at least Eastman’s heart is in the right place.

I set out to speak with Gilvarry, a friend, by first attending his book release party at McNally Jackson where he spoke with Saïd Sayrafiezadeh; then in Brooklyn at Greenlight Bookstore, where he was in conversation with his wife, Alexandra Kleeman. I wanted to hear what was said so that I didn’t ask the same questions when I got my chance. In the end, we discussed Eastman and Mailer, the place of the “macho male chauvinist” and obscenity in contemporary fiction, finding sympathy in satire, and the concept of authorial humility.

¤

J. T. PRICE: Eastman Was Here, like your first novel, From the Memoirs of a Non-Enemy Combatant, pivots between two seemingly incongruous “worlds”: in the case of the earlier book, fashion in New York City and captivity in Guantanamo Bay, and now in the current, high-wire literary salons and high-tension Saigon during the Vietnam War. What is it about spanning incongruous social spheres that attracts you as an author?

ALEX GILVARRY: I want a book to bring me into a world I’ve never been to before. That’s an amazing feeling when it happens, when as a reader you’re fully immersed. Many of the locations I write about attract me with their problems, their people, or through nostalgia. Like the literary world of the past. I’m not really nostalgic for the martini lunches and all that. But in the book there’s a point where Eastman takes a walk down old Book Row in New York and remembers his life and career in the ’50s. Those are the moments I’m looking for.

Was there a particular scene that served as the genesis of this book? That walk down old Book Row, now gone, is a vivid one for those of us who love old books.

Not really. I started at the beginning, in chapter one. An aging journalist in his house who has just been left by his wife of 10 years. It all started from there.

Satire often registers as unkind to its subjects. Several riotous set pieces aside, Eastman Was Here does not feel purely satirical. How did you find your right balance between satire and sympathy in writing Eastman?

I think because in my mind I wasn’t writing a satire. I was writing a roman à clef, like The Moon and Sixpence or something. All I was thinking about was the character and taking his story as seriously as possible, and maybe that’s where the sympathy comes from. It turns out this can be read as a satire, for sure. But I wrote it as a story based on real life.

Your character, Anne Channing, an intrepid photographer and war reporter, stands as a foil to Eastman’s washed-up celeb status. All the same, in the story, she confesses to feeling drawn to him. Stepping from the novel’s “reality” to our own real lives, what is appealing about Norman Mailer as a writer, in the books of his that you see as his best?

Anne Channing is attracted to Eastman in the way that we are sometimes attracted to people who aren’t good for us. I think we can all relate to that, at some point in our lives.

Mailer was first appealing to me as a controversial figure. I knew his reputation as a rabble-rouser and someone who would knock your teeth out before I had read any of his books. And then when I was in college I remember watching a screening of Town Bloody Hall in a literature class, and from that film, I found his reputation to be quite true. He talked very fast and sometimes didn’t make any sense to me …

Then when I went to the Mailer Writers Colony in Provincetown, I was forced to look at Mailer as a writer. To be honest, before this, I had no desire to read him. But there I discovered some good things and some you might expect. The contempt for feminism, the willingness to pounce on anyone who offended him. Though some of the books hold up. Like Advertisements for Myself — which shows the male mind and ego of a writer in the ’50s. And The Armies of the Night, which is a great snapshot of literary life and politics during the ’60s. Armies is probably the most relevant book to read today, as it shows a country divided and the meaning of protest and the doubts protesters may feel.

Yes, The Armies of the Night is terrific and relevant.

Isn’t it? That’s Mailer’s sweet spot. He’s learned humility. Arguably, not always present in his other work.

Also, The Executioner’s Song is really good for true-crime heads. So for anyone interested in those subjects, please, read him. His thoughts on ancient Egypt and good and evil and God I’m not so crazy about.

You and I have had beers before. Let’s pretend for a moment we’re having beers now. Norman Mailer, circa the late ’50s, walks into the bar and shouts out your name. “Gilvarry,” he says, approaching, “I’ll have you know that I read what you may call ‘a novel’ but I call…” and here he unleashes a string of choice obscenities while waving his arms around in aggravated ape fashion. How do you respond? (I’ve ducked bravely beneath a nearby table.)

[Laughs.] You see, writers like us today are not good at handling confrontation. So my initial instinct would be to duck under the table with you. But I suppose since there’s no way out, I’d tell him I read his last hand job of a novel, too, and found it as exciting as watching paint dry.

And things would only escalate from there.

Mailer, from what I learned from his friends and family, liked to spar a bit. You have to hit these guys back or they won’t respect you.

Once almost baited Sonny Liston into a fight, or so he claimed.

He also claimed that he was five foot ten. He liked to exaggerate.

Much fun is had in Eastman Was Here at the expense of Eastman’s Mailer-like ego, which made me think of the sensibility of the novel as somehow deeply informed by its opposite: authorial humility. How would you describe that quality, i.e., what does it mean to you? Say, within the context of, let’s call it, contemporary letters — our present-day book publishing scene?

That’s a very good read. You have to combat your ego with humility I think. It takes an ego to think anyone would want to read what you write. But I realize that it’s only a book, a novel, a fiction that I’ve written. In the scheme of things — considering all of media and entertainment today — it’s a very small spec.

I’ve heard you tell of the research you did for this novel, traveling to the Harry Ransom Center in Texas. What was it like studying the life and letters of a writer who moved during most of his career under the hot lights of literary celebrity and then to find that now, among the younger generation, he goes relatively unread?

You see, Mailer was important in his day and people treated him with importance. He was a literary celebrity, and he could do anything he wanted artistically or in journalism. (With the exception of writing in The New Yorker, I don’t think he had an easy time over there.)

Ah, The New Yorker. Holding the line, then and now.

Going into anyone’s personal and professional archive is a thrill. You get to know what they were really thinking about so and so. You get to see them at their most vulnerable and at their most proud. It’s an incredible adventure. But the best letters were not those regarding celebrity or literary fights. The best letters were those he might have sent to his first wife while he was stationed in the Philippines. You discover love and passion, and then you fast-forward and they broke up. This stuff can be heartbreaking. What a debt I owe to the Ransom Center.

Indeed. Beautiful, unexpected little recorded moments of consciousness. And reconciling that, as you read, with both his outsized reputation then and where he stands with the readers of today.

Yes, that’s pretty much what you begin to feel. But I was writing a novel so I was looking for ways into a very hardened, unlikable character. So I’m not saying, “Hey, let’s give these old dead white guys a chance!” For my purposes, in crafting a fiction, I found a way into a character. Reconciling with the way readers feel about Mailer today is hard to change. He wrote what he wrote, said what he said, hurt some people along the way. A reputation is not yours to control.

Is Eastman Was Here a feminist novel? I think it’s compelling, how even as an exploration of the grandiosity and excesses of male ego, the cover shows us a ghostly vision of a woman … as if that is what most constitutes, or haunts, Eastman’s interiority. (And in the story you write, yes, it is.)

Yes. It didn’t set out to be. But the women in this novel are feminists or embody feminist ideas because I believe in them too.

Nowhere in our contemporary lit landscape do we find a presence like Mailer — at least one as outwardly outrageous as he was. We might even say that the qualities of personality Mailer performed have been “repressed” within our contemporary scene. Meanwhile, the man sitting in the Oval Office has reared up in our collective consciousness like some sort of monstrous Mailer-esque id: an outer-borough born creature of tabloid celebrity, ego-driven, quick to hold grudges and pick senseless fights, scornful of “P.C.” culture, self-destructive, vain … yet also — decidedly unlike Mailer! — completely ignorant of contemporary literature. Maybe I’m getting a little vainglorious here, but in some sense, was Mailer as literary celebrity a sort of three-headed dog that kept darker forces of raging male id somehow at bay?

It’s a good thing that the qualities that Mailer exhibited, the macho male chauvinist, have been repressed. Not repressed, but cast out of literature, exiled altogether. A year ago I would have said that this had no place in politics either. My god, how wrong we were. Trump, by acting like an imbecile and a chauvinist, has signaled that hateful rhetoric and behavior is now okay. But this is beyond a culture war. Real policies are at stake in all aspects of American life and that’s what I want to concentrate my energy on now.

Here’s a passage from The Armies of the Night that I take to be Mailer giving a summation of his work:

He was off into obscenity. It gave a heartiness like the blood of beef tea to his associations. There was no villainy in obscenity for him, just — paradoxically, characteristically — his love for America. […] What none of the editorial writers ever mentioned was that that noble common man was obscene as an old goat, and his obscenity was what saved him. The sanity of said common democratic man was in his humor, his humor was in his obscenity.

On an immediate level, Mailer’s talking about himself. But is it true about America at large, do you think? By “casting out” that rollicking obscenity that Mailer sees as endemic to the sanity of common democratic man, does literature lose something?

When thinking of Donald Trump and the shameful America he envisions, there might be a bit of truth to this saying. But god, the “heartiness like the blood of beef tea,” what a terrible turn of phrase. So Mailer. Each book had some of his best stuff and some of his worst.

Beef tea. I’m going to have that taste in my mouth for the rest of the day. Eck.

¤

J. T. Price’s fiction has appeared in or is forthcoming from The New England Review, Post Road Magazine, Joyland, The Brooklyn Rail, and elsewhere.

The post “A Reputation Is Not Yours to Control”: A Conversation with Alex Gilvarry, Author of “Eastman Was Here” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://ift.tt/2iHTmhh

[thesinglesjukebox]

MILEY CYRUS - YOUNGER NOW [5.38] We return her enthusiasm.

Alex Clifton: Confession: I've never really cared for Miley Cyrus' music. There's something about her tonal quality that doesn't sit well with me and her music has always been middling at best. She's tried to be cute, edgy, hard, and experimental, and none of those have ever sounded great. Yet there's something to be said for "Younger Now" -- for once in her entire musical career, Cyrus doesn't sound like she's trying. The entire tune's full of weird platitudes regarding change, the lyrics are a bit basic, and I can't say I'd seek this song out, but it finally feels like she's found her niche and enjoys the music she makes. That's all you can ever ask for from an artist, I suppose. I still have mixed feelings about Cyrus in general (appropriation, etc.) but maybe this era will mark a welcome change for her. [5]

Alfred Soto: Miley Cyrus can sing, but those stretched syllables are hell on my concentration. Also, while I sympathize with clinging to the insouciance of youth, Cyrus's public persona suggests she's more interesting as an adult channelling the energy of youth. [6]

Katie Gill: Miley Cyrus is 24. I don't want to be ageist, but "I feel so much younger now"? Really? Speaking as a 25 year old, I'd honestly be surprised if any of us WANT to go back to our younger, high school to undergrad years (fun fact! Legally drinking and not living in a dorm is AWESOME.) There's so much potential here: after all, a younger Cyrus still spent most of her life in the spotlight. How do you reconcile that with feeling younger? Instead, she gives us a song composed of nothing but platitudes and fortune cookie fortunes over a stale instrumentation. [5]

Eleanor Graham: She doesn't actually feel younger now. Age is still measured in linear years and not square inches of skin. VMA-gate Miley was only "mature" in the least literal, most Daily Mail sense of the word; and Miley in a high-cut red leotard performing a terrible cover of "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" is still about as indelibly, nakedly young as pop gets. But this isn't about that. This is about a peaceful transfer of power. A resurrection with director's commentary. "Even though it's not who I am," she explains patiently. "I'm not afraid of who I used to be." As T****r S***t attempts to take a knife to her past incarnations without cutting ties with her original fanbase, to exclude herself from every narrative going while sitting smugly atop the platform those narratives provided, and thus becomes engulfed in an ever more impenetrable web of political and cultural discourse, Cyrus manages a simple and bloodless transition. From Bad Girl to Good, from breasts and gold grills to a white dress laced to the neck, but for the lipgloss one of Sofia Coppola's Civil War schoolgirls. This and the country rock sounds are part of her plan to ensnare Trump supporters and - what? Even if Cyrus were somewhere between Billy Bragg and Bob Dylan, their votes are not up for grabs. Their hearts, perhaps. Their $9.99, certainly. But "Younger Now" doesn't have the aesthetic of moral bankruptcy. Cyrus follows Joan Didion's advice: there are no ugly confrontations, just a smile and a shrug and a "change is a thing you can count on." The music sounds good; clean, like fresh air. [6]

Maxwell Cavaseno: More and more, Miley Cyrus's current phase feels less like the next step of a continuous desperation to be the star of her generation and instead appears to be evolving into their conscience. "Younger Now" sonically feels like a big budget Neko Case song, with the intent of continuously reminding us that the perpetual zest of annoyance that characterized so much of Cyrus's more 'edgy' period has been expulsed like so much poison for the sake of a nice, responsible, maturity. This is the Miley so many of us all knew she was deep down, whom she has finally allowed to breathe without trying to be so wild and crazy. Fact of the matter is, this burnout for all its satisfaction as a pop song feels more desolate than the pine-needle provocations of Bangerz & Dead Petz. If anything, her more crooked material at least had the ideas of a wild desire to impress people. Now we're left with placation and a bowed head of humility, tragic resignation that just feels less like being tamed than being broken. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: How many pop stars have to penitently abandon electro before we note it not as individual awakenings but a trend? The playbook is the same: hemlines lowered, parties canceled, acoustic guitars mixed to near-pornographic emphasis, duet with Dolly Parton or someone like her. Miley has read your thinkpieces and made musical apologies, mea maxima Crow. Or maxima megachurch, as the stolid kick drum suggests big sterile auditoriums and the nonspecificity of Cyrus' supposed awakening would work fine at a youth-group baptism. You probably think I hate this, but it's not all bad. Pro: Synthpop is plenty friendly to alto voices and thick timbres (evidence: the entire '80s), but perhaps in a soft-rock setting the solidity to Miley's voice might be less lost on listeners, since they think it isn't autotuned. Con: The demographic cynicism of it all; I'm sure it's not lost on Miley or anyone that Sam Hunt's "Body Like a Back Road" is in the Top 10 and is getting the kind of pop radio airplay that hip hop-influenced tracks increasingly aren't. Pro: I've got a soft spot for pop-rock, that spot where Lilith Fair meets U2; it's funny and kinda vindicating to see people like it when not by those names. Con: With "maturity" and "realness" invariably comes a thematic flattening, the pat morality of a story's end; there's more weirdness and emotional ambivalence in Tove Lo or Halsey or the near-entirety of R&B than these bowdlerized bangerz. [5]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Such a confusing career move. Miley's trading in her tasteless minstrel show act for a scrubbed-up, more "mature" brand and a whiter shade of pale. Even though she claims she's "younger" now, the song feels decades older and terribly dated, much like those rich teenage girls who dress like their mothers. She's trying to sound more self-assured, but all I can hear is a little girl clomping around in big high heels, telling us she's not a baby, she's five; she refuses to do what we expect from her, but her imagination is still confined to the walls of her own house. [3]

Scott Mildenhall: It's almost startling how Miley Cyrus seems to have opted out of the illusion of notoriety just as easily as she bluntly manufactured it. All that carry-on a few years ago pierced consciousnesses beyond common pop-cultural bounds, but it was only ever a moment. The narrative needn't be rounded out: from the media to the media-averse, the uninvested most likely made their money and moved on, or simply forgot. Teflon controversy and the allegedly anarchic give way to breezy spirituality, a break with the past is used as water and not petrol on the flames, and short memories are harnessed. Miley Cyrus sounds like she's forgotten she cared, and that she wants you to do the same. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/drake-not-done-j-lo-shes-busy-balling-rod/

Drake not done with J-Lo but she's busy balling with A-Rod

While he is no longer in relationship with Jennifer Lopez, Toronto-born rapper Drake is still talking about her – well, singing about her. On Saturday, March 18th, Drake released his highly anticipated album More Life. Featuring 22 new songs and a bunch of big name collaborators, such as Kanye West, 2 Chainz, and Travis Scott, the artist’s new album is already generating tons of buzz. One of the songs on the album’s track list that is getting plenty of attention, in particular, is the song “Free Smoke.” In the song, Drake sings out lyrics that refer to his former flame, Miss Lopez. In “Free Smoke,” Drake candidly raps, “I drunk text J. Lo/ Old numbers so I bounce back/ Boy Wonder gotta bounce back” – implying that he no longer has a valid phone number for his ex. Although Drake alludes to not staying in touch with Jennifer in his lyrics, sources close to the star claim that they are actually on good terms. An insider recently revealed to E! News, “[Drake and Jennifer] have just cooled things off a bit…they are in each others’ lives, just doing their own thing now.” Meanwhile, while Drake is busy with the release of his new music, Jennifer is busy with her new beau Alex Rodriguez. Just a few days ago, Jennifer was seen spending quality time with Alex in Miami. You can now listen to Drake’s album More Life in full on most music streaming services. Take me out to the ballgame, A-Rod. You got it, J-Lo. Back at spring training with the New York Yankees as a guest instructor, Alex Rodriguez watched part of Saturday's exhibition game against the Baltimore Orioles in a suite with singer-actress Jennifer Lopez. The two are said to be dating. A-Rod has been linked romantically to other Hollywood stars in the past, including Kate Hudson and Cameron Diaz. Rodriguez was released by the Yankees last August with more than a season left on his $275 million, 10-year contract. The 41-year-old former slugger began his first stint as a guest instructor with the team last month and said his playing days are over. Fox recently announced a multiyear deal with Rodriguez that expands his broadcasting role with the network. A-Rod hit 696 home runs during 22 years in the big leagues, leaving him fourth on the career list. He was suspended for the 2014 season for violating Major League Baseball's drug agreement and labor contract. Late on Wednesday, young model Kendall Jenner’s home in Hollywood Hills was burglarized. An unknown thief (or group of thieves) managed to break in and get away with around $200,000 worth of her jewelry. Inevitably, the starlet was not happy with the whole situation and has since opted to fire the security guard who was on duty at the time. New reports about the incident have since been released by media outlet TMZ. It turns out that Kendall was actually hosting a group of friends at her house on Wednesday evening and she just briefly stepped out, while a number of her guests stayed in her home. Law enforcement believes that the robbery took place during the time that Kendall had left her residence, despite the fact that she still had [thought-to-be trustworthy] guests hanging around. With these new details revealed, it does appear that the robbery was an inside job. However, this did not stop Kendall from taking immediate action – starting with her security team. According to TMZ, Kendall fired the security guard who was on duty Wednesday evening. This guard was stationed in front of her property and reportedly let in an uninvited guest to the 21-year-old’s home during the brief period of time in which she had stepped out. Fortunately, Kendall has a complex security camera system set up and police are utilizing the surveillance footage from the night to try and find whoever is responsible for the theft. While it is not clear what exactly was stolen from the Keeping Up with the Kardashians star, TMZ reports that the intruder(s) got away with at least a Rolex and a Cartier watch. Katy Perry revealed on Saturday night that she’s done more than just kiss girls. The pop star was honored at the Human Rights Campaign Gala in Los Angeles where she revealed she explored her sexuality as a teenager. “How was I going to reconcile that with a gospel singing girl raised in youth groups that were pro-conversion camps?” Perry, 32, shared while accepting the National Equality Award, according to E! News. “What I did know was I was curious, and even then I knew sexuality wasn’t as black and white as this dress,” she said. “And honestly, I haven’t always gotten it right, but in 2008 when that song came out I knew that I started a conversation and a lot of the world seemed curious enough to sing along, too.” Because of her religious upbringing — both of her parents are pastors — she spent much time praying “the gay away in my Jesus camps.” Her perspective on sexuality shifted after she made the leap from Gospel music to the mainstream. “I found my gift, and my gift introduced me to people outside my bubble and my bubble started to burst,” Perry said. “These people were nothing like I had been taught to fear. They were the most free, strong, kind and inclusive people I have ever met.” Tim Allen says that living in Hollywood right now is akin to Nazi Germany. The comedian made the claim while appearing on “Jimmy Kimmel Live.” “You gotta be real careful around here,” Allen noted. “You get beat up if you don’t believe what everybody else believes. This is like ’30s Germany.” Allen, 63, plays an outspoken conservative on the sitcom “Last Man Standing” and is one of the few actors in Hollywood to profess having right-wing leanings. When Kimmel asked him about attending the inauguration ceremony the “Home Improvement” star’s eyes bulged and he stammered: “I was invited, we did a VIP thing for the vets, and went to a veterans ball, so I went to go see Democrats and Republicans.” “Yeah I went to the inauguration,” he added. According to Blac Chyna, her and Rob Kardashian are just going through a rough patch. “I feel like every person who’s in a long-term relationship, or who is committed to their person, goes through ups and downs,” she told Cosmopolitan South Africa. “Everything isn’t always going to be peaches and cream.” Chyna, the cover star of the magazine’s April issue, says the two are “fighting for each other – even though they’re living apart. “I’m in it for the long haul,” the 28-year-old insisted. “I feel like everything isn’t going to be perfect, but I know we love each other, and the people we surround ourselves with are rooting for us.” And despite the pair’s on and off again status, their daughter Dream remains a priority. “We have a whole other human being that looks up to us, so we have to make sure she’s taken care of,” she's said of their baby who was born in November. The sole son of the Kardashian family – who turned 30 on Friday – is “a wonderful dad.” “I think it’s because he had such a great father,” Chyna said. Josh Duggar and his wife Anna are looking to the future. “We are delighted to share with you that we are expecting a new baby boy later this year,” the couple said in a statement on the Duggar family’s website. “Beauty comes from ashes and we cannot wait to see and kiss the face of this sweet new boy!” While the announcement didn’t mention the 29-year-old Josh’s sordid past, the couple acknowledged a “breach of trust.” “For nearly the last two years, we have quietly worked to save our marriage, focus on our children, and rebuild our lives together as a family. Doing so is never easy after a breach of trust,” the statement read. “We’ve learned that a life of faith and rebuilding a life together is simply done one day at a time.” In 2015, Josh admitted to molesting five girls as well as cheating on his wife via the affair enabling website Ashley Madison. In the time since the scandal rocked the “19 Kids and Counting” family, the reality star has attended a faith-based rehab and worked with a counselor to salvage his marriage. The couple is already parents to Mackynzie Renée, 7, Michael James, 5, Marcus Anthony, 3, and Meredith Grace, 1. Earlier this month, the religious brood showed support for Josh on his 29th birthday “We love you, your amazing wife and sweet children. We pray that you diligently follow and serve the Lord with your whole heart all the days of your life and that this year is a wonderful year for you and your family,” the family said on Facebook. While you wouldn’t know it from the tabloid headlines, which are filled with stories about her new relationship, superstar Jennifer Lopez actually has other notable things going on in her life right now. In fact, the starlet just got the word that she will be returning to the small screen as the star of NBC’s hit crime drama Shades of Blue. On Friday, the Entertainment President at NBC, Jennifer Salke, announced that the network has renewed Shades of Blue for a third season. This is a particularly big accomplishment for Jennifer Lopez, and the rest of the show’s cast, as the second season of the series just started airing a mere two weeks. In the official statement announcing the series’ renewal, Jennifer Salke noted, “[We here at NBC are] so hugely appreciative of everything Jennifer [Lopez] and Ray [Liotta] do, and know it is due to their dedication, as well as the hard work of our incredible cast and producers, that Shades of Blue has so clearly and compellingly earned a third-season renewal.” The NBC executive went on to add, “The show continues to mine powerful stories that always leave us hungry for more.” In addition to Shades of Blue, NBC also just recently announced the renewals of several other shows, including: This is Us, Superstore and The Good Place. You can catch Jennifer in Shades of Blue when it airs on Sundays at 10/9c on NBC. On Thursday, it was announced that supermodel Tyra Banks would be returning to her role as host of the reality competition America’s Next Top Model. In 2016, after hosting 22 seasons of the show, Tyra shocked fans when she decided to step down from her hosting gig. For season 23, singer and media star Rita Ora took over the reigns and judged a brand new batch of hopeful models, alongside a panel of fashion experts which included stylist Law Roach, model Ashley Graham and Paper magazine’s Creative Consultant Drew Elliot. While Rita did fairly well in the role, especially considering the enormous shoes she had to fill, she will not be returning as host for season 24. Executive producer of America’s Next Top Model, Ken Mok addressed Tyra’s unexpected decision to return after just a short, 1-season absence. Ken told the press, “Tyra has always been the heart and soul of the franchise and her absence was deeply felt by our fiercely loyal fans who missed their Queen of the Smize. We’d like to thank Rita Ora for being a great partner and total pro. She infused this new iteration of ANTM with passion and creativity, and we wish her nothing but the best in her future endeavors.” Although Tyra has officially stolen back the ANTM spotlight from Rita, there is no bad blood between the two beauties. Following the announcement on Thursday, Tyra and Rita exchanged some kind words over Twitter. Tyra posted, “Mizz [Rita Ora], you exemplify Business Boss Brand to the fullest! Thank you for all the amazingness you brought to ANTM,” in which Rita replied, “Thank you, Tyra! Was such an honor and pleasure being on your show. Everyone welcome Tyra back!!” Rita & Tyra, Twitter posts: https://twitter.com/tyrabanks/status/842497262802554881 https://twitter.com/RitaOra/status/842501937664729088 At this point, it has not been revealed who will be joining Tyra on the judging panel for season 24. Stay tuned for more ANTM updates! While she may be doing a lot better and is [somewhat] back in the spotlight these days, former Disney starlet Selena Gomez is definitely not looking to be wrapped up in the craziness of Hollywood for the long haul. In the latest issue of Vogue magazine, Selena talked candidly about what her late-2016 stay in rehab was like, as well as her desperate desire to live a more normal life. The Spring Breakers actress said in her interview with the publication, “You have no idea how incredible it felt to just be with six girls [in the rehabilitation program]. Real people who couldn’t give two s*** about who I was, who were fighting for their lives. It was one of the hardest things I’ve done, but it was the best thing I’ve done.” Selena also went on to address her toned down presence on social media, as she explained, “as soon as I became the most followed person on Instagram, I sort of freaked out. It had become so consuming to me. It’s what I woke up to and went to sleep to. I was an addict, and it felt like I was seeing things I didn’t want to see, like it was putting things in my head that I didn’t want to care about. I always end up feeling like s*** when I look at Instagram. Which is why I’m kind of under the radar, ghosting it a bit.” In terms of maintaining her star status, Selena admitted that she is looking forward to the day she is no longer one of the most famous celebs in the world. Selena candidly told the magazine, “I just really can’t wait for people to forget about me.”

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