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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

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You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 2)

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

For @thatesqcrush’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Fake Relationship When Visiting Family square.

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Holiday fluff. Bryan being the worst... but also hot? Horrible pet names. Nothing nsfw happens this chapter except Bryan’s mouth.

2,900 words

The bluish LED headlights of Bryan Kneef’s BMW blinded other drivers as they cut through the dark on the drive to his parents’ suburban house. You ascertained from the hands-free call he was making the family hadn’t started dinner yet. Christmas was close to the winter solstice, so it wasn’t as late as the sky suggested, although you’d heard a hungry child screaming impatiently about having to wait for Uncle Bry.

“Uncle Bry,” you teased as the call ended.

He chuckled. “That would be my brother’s kid, Finn. My brother’s name is Timothy. The CEO of LogicFinance. You will say you’ve ‘heard so much about them.’ Let’s review.”

“Jesus.”

Sitting next to Bryan while his attention wasn’t on you, you lost yourself noticing things. The clean smell of his cologne. How sexy he looked—in a rich douchey way—in his tailored suit and expensive car. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. That beard that made you want to scream, “Daddy!”

You could almost forget he was the asshole who held every paralegal at STR Laurie hostage with busywork unless you pretended to be the woman who dumped him.

Until he started barking at you to memorize facts about his life.

“First, what do I have to know about this woman I’m supposed to be?”

He stared straight ahead at the road. “Her name is Sydney. So you’re Syd from now on.”

“Oh joy. Being called your ex’s name all night won’t be weird or anything.”

“You were the one who wanted to get out of work.”

“Whatever. I bet you already forgot my real name, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict you. The engine roared to life as he changed lanes before signaling and cut off the SUV he’d been tailgating for the last mile.

Your arms crossed over your chest. “How much did you tell your family about Sydney? I hope you didn’t send them any pictures.”

“Not much, and obviously not. I’m not stupid.”

“Just pathetic.”

He scowled. Before he could think of a searing response to take back control of the conversation, you asked another question that knocked him off balance.

“What made this one so different? We’ve been working together for what, a year? And I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup.”

“The sex was fantastic,” he answered too loudly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve never had a woman who could keep up with me—”

“Because you finish too quickly?”

“Cute. Keep it up.” He stepped on the gas again and your stomach lurched as he pulled off another aggressive passing maneuver in the right lane. “No one walks away from my bed unsatisfied. You could find out. A little reward for helping me out tonight?”

“Not in a million years,” you clipped, shutting him down, even though your wild, lonely, horny side that noticed his beard and fingers was beating at the inside of your skull. “You are going to keep it decent and chaste. Ground rules: holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. Moderate cuddling as the situation calls for it. That should be plenty to sell that we’re involved.”

“You haven’t seen me around women I’m involved with,” he smirked with a suggestive glint in the side of his eye.

“And I’m sure your parents haven’t seen you with a partner who isn’t just some bimbo you’re screwing, either. Cop a feel, and I end the charade right there.”

That comment, which was more insightful than you knew, silenced him. His suggestive side-glance returned forward to focus on the road. That look was back on his face again—the look when he ran out of swaggering bullshit to spew. Sadness. Genuine human sadness.

“She wasn’t clingy,” he said, voice a soft rumble. “Didn’t expect me to be her fucking boyfriend—she was the one who told me no strings.”

“You loved her because she was distant?”

“No. I don’t know. She did nice things, too—like ask how my day was, and bring me coffee. She remembered the way I like it.”

“That’s just basic human kindness, Bryan.” You sighed. “That’s actually… really sad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. You call women clingy for wanting to be close to you, and now you’re so starved for connection you think remembering your coffee order is a huge deal. Your secretary knows your coffee order. Hell, I know your damned coffee order you’ve sent me out for it enough times, even though—as I often remind you—that’s not my job. I’m sorry. Really. But maybe this is a lesson? That you actually have a heart and might want to try opening it sometime?”

“How the fuck is that the lesson? I open my heart, I get hurt. From now on, I’m only dating broads who disgust me.” His eyes lingered on you for a dangerously long time until you got the point and gave an annoyed grunt. His eyes returned to the road, corners crinkled in satisfaction.

***

Dinner was already starting when Bryan’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway of a large house on a private cul-de-sac. The porch was glowing with tasteful white lights and a wreath on the door. Silhouettes were moving behind the decorative glass set into the front door, waiting for you to get out of the car. As soon as you approached, the door flew open and you were hit with the smell of roast turkey.

“Bry-Bry! We were worried you wouldn’t make it!” His silver-haired mother threw her arms around Bryan’s neck while he grumbled with reluctant affection, hugging her back.

A rich oaken voice of the man who must have been his father said, “And this must be the famous Sydney. We thought we’d never get to meet you.” He shook your hand warmly.

Both of them were wearing hideous red and green Christmas sweaters straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t driven you away!” Bryan’s mom teased, pinching his pink cheek as she did so. “We’re so happy you put up with our little monster.” She hugged you.

“Come, come on in. Let me take your coat. We were just starting dinner—you’re right on time.” His dad helped you shrug your winter coat off and hung it up in the entryway closet for you.

This was… bizarre. How the hell did people this friendly churn out a Bryan?

More shocking still was when you felt warm, long fingers twine between yours, and you nearly tore your hand away before remembering you had a “boyfriend” tonight. Bryan smiled at you sweetly, eyes soft and affectionate.

Yep. You’d fallen into some kind of Bizarro World.

Martha, his mother, led you both through the spacious house toward the dining room. “What do you think of our humble home?” she asked, pausing in the living room. “I keep thinking I should move that chair to the other side of the fireplace. What do you think? Would it flow better?”

“Uh, I’m not really—”

“Mom! We’re hungry,” Bryan snapped.

“Oh, come on, honey, let me pick her brain! It’s not every day we have an interior designer in here.”

“Bryan told you I’m an interior designer?” Your mouth smiled pleasantly at Bryan while your eyes stabbed daggers into his stupid handsome face.

“Obviously I forgot I mentioned it,” he smiled back.

You batted your eyes. Now the daggers were on fire.

“Well, what do you think? Chair on the left, or the right?”

“Well,” you said, “the symmetry with the fireplace is… balanced with the rich tones in the leather”—Martha nodded along attentively—“You know, I’ve been working all day, maybe we can talk shop later?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry—Bryan’s mean old mom ambushing you the minute you walk in the door!” She flexed her hand into vampire-claws and playfully attacked your shoulder. “Aw, are the stuffy old adults embarrassing you, peanut?”

Bryan’s cheeks turned the brightest pink you had ever seen them. And this was a man who didn’t blush when telling a roomful of attorneys to go fuck themselves. You let out the first genuine laugh you’d made in his presence. You squeezed his hand.

“Honey-bear, I love your parents!”

***

The table was crowded with Kneef siblings, cousins, and their children and spouses. Finn, you guessed, was the youngest boy. And that would make the silver fox next to him Timothy. His older brother had the same bluntness as Bryan, but none of the cruelty. In fact, his entire family was so… normal.

Bryan’s hard edges were hardly softened in their presence, but unlike in the office where his cranky moods inspired fear, here they were met with boos and hisses and his cousin throwing a bread roll at him. The youngest kids mimicked this exciting behavior, and soon it was raining whole-wheat on Bryan Kneef.

You smiled and patted his hand and called him “dear” and made sure your mouth was full of turkey the moment anyone asked you about yourself.

Over the evening, you learned that Mrs. Martha Kneef put herself through nursing school after having her first child to support the family while her husband piddled around with his low-paying hobby in computers. By the time Bryan was born, his father was programming for a growing company, working his way up the ranks—back in the days when one could do that. By the time Bryan was ten, dad was the Chief Information Officer of one of the largest corporations in the country.

And so Bryan, the youngest, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, handed all the things his parents had worked hard for in the hopes that he would have a better life.

“All the child-rearing books at the time said encouragement was important,” said Martha, who was a little drunk on red wine at this point. She let out an exasperated groan. “This is what happens when you encourage too much. We created a monster. Didn’t we?” Her voice went higher as she pinched Bryan’s cheek again.

“Martha and I are so happy to see him finally settling down with someone.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to find a girl who’ll put up with you?” Tim teased, punching Bryan’s arm.

Bryan stared back. Locked eyes with his brother. He took a deep breath. “How’d you manage to—”

Bryan then asked something too obscene to be repeated, which set the entire table screaming, and parents’ hands clamping over children’s ears (though not before an adorable curly-haired niece asked, “mommy, what’s a prolapsed rectum?”).

You should have been offended, or embarrassed to be attached to the guy wrecking Christmas without even needing to be drunk. But oddly, as hot as your cheeks were, you found yourself laughing. You were dating the most interesting guy at the table. He was so overwhelmingly charismatic—not necessarily in a positive way, but in a way that made him the center of attention in any room he walked into. And he was charming enough for people to keep wanting him around, even when he said things that... were probably going to scar those children for life. Not to mention the adults.

Reaching over, you cupped the opposite side of his cheek and forced him to turn his head to you. “You’re so bad, Bry. How do I put up with you?” You began affectionately scratching his beard like it was something you’d done to him a hundred times. “He’s just so cute, I can’t resist. Settle down now, baby.”

His mom gave a loud, “Aww” and Bryan side-eyed his brother, who snorted.

You were getting into it, mussing up his perfect beard in a way that was sure to annoy him later—but it wasn’t annoying him that was on your mind. It was more the feeling of that coarse but soft hair under your fingertips, the shape of his jawline… the way he was staring back at you, eyelids drooping…

“It’s really the beard I’m dating—if he ever shaves, we’re breaking up,” you joked, suddenly needing to crush the romantic mood. It worked. His family laughed, and Bryan scowled, catching your wrist to make you stop.

***

Bryan wanted to leave right after dinner, but his mother wheedled him to stay.

“We’ve still got your bedroom set up if you want to sleep here. Think of it—we could have Christmas morning together just like when you and Timmy were babies!”

“Ma! I couldn’t impose on Syd. She… has a cat.”

Great. More backstory to remember. You surreptitiously elbowed him in the side.

Bryan got his dominating instincts from somewhere, though. The big ask to stay the night was a tactic to make him give in to the smaller ask of staying for hot cocoa and holiday movies.

Bryan had yet to recover from your crack about breaking up with him and forgot to play the part of the affectionate boyfriend. While her husband was explaining the intricacies of a particular wireless security device to whichever cousins would listen, Martha casually sidled up and whispered, “You don’t have to be shy about PDA in front of us old people. We’ve seen everything.”

“Oh! Uh...” Your mouth gaped, unsure how the fuck to respond to that.

Bryan overheard it and rolled his eyes with a groan. “Ma!”

He looked so grumpy and annoyed, something about it made you kiss him on the cheek. Just to put to rest his mother’s suspicions! That must have been it.

Then Bryan was all fire again, his eyes glittering above a wicked smirk. He grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly against his arousingly solid body, covering your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Oh god, hot. He was definitely only doing this to make his mom uncomfortable, and if you knew Bryan, he wouldn’t stop until she regretted meddling or he was fucking you on the stack of presents under the tree. So why was your skin too hot? Why did it prickle everywhere his hand wandered? Palming your curves, sliding down to your hips, lowering over the swell of—

You leaned close until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Watch your hands, or HR is hearing all about this,” you warned, then pulled away smiling.

Bryan smiled back. “Of course, babycakes.”

“You lovebirds! Keep it PG.”

He warned you in the car that no one would buy him keeping things chaste, didn’t he? Well, you weren’t going to be the one to blow your cover.

When you filed into the living room where the kids were already watching A Christmas Story, there was only one spot left on the couch, and an empty armchair. Bryan flopped down on the recliner, and you sat on his lap. His chest vibrated as he gave an encouraging growl, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You didn’t expect me to sit alone, did you, honey-bear?” you cooed.

His hand moved to support your hip, cradling you close to him. The other hand covered yours, which was resting on your knee. It was just a performance, but god, his hands were so big and warm, and the gesture so remarkably soft. You let yourself recline back against his chest, and turned your head to inspect his profile—the greying at his temple, a strong, square brow that shaded such lively green eyes.

A fire danced in the fireplace, stockings hung up neatly above it. A tree in the opposite corner filled the room with a piny balsam scent. The whole scene felt so domestic. Bryan’s beard scratched the side of your face, the soft cashmere of the sweater he’d thrown on over his dress shirt making him a comfortable cuddle partner. Suddenly you could imagine perfectly well why someone might put up with him.

“So, Sydney, how did you meet Bryan?” his father asked. A few other prying relatives leaned forward, and you began to sweat.

“Oh… I’m sure Bryan’s already told this story,” you deflected, glancing at him for assistance. Bryan frowned.

“It was through a case.” His evasive answer only made everyone more curious.

“What kind of case?”

“A divorce case.”

A bark of laughter leaped from your throat before you could hold it in, and you had to quickly disguise it as the kind of nostalgic laugh you get from an inside joke. “It’s true”—you stroked Bryan’s beard—“I think he only slept with me as part of the victory, you know? Took my ex’s money, took his wife. You know our Bryan,” you giggled. You would bet money that was exactly how it happened, too. “It’s a major rebound for me. But it’s been working out. Bryan has this whole other side to him that people don’t see.”

He looked at you. The clarity of his green eyes caught you off guard, and you felt a burning heat creeping up the side of your neck toward your ears.

“Well, we’re so happy to meet you!”

“You dog, Bry.”

“Want to see baby pictures?”

The last voice was Martha’s.

“No.” Bryan said. “She doesn’t.”

Of your asshole boss? Why yes. Yes, you did.

“He used to be such a sweet little peanut.” His mother always seemed eager to stir trouble for her brat of a son. “Just wait until you see how cute he was in diapers.”

“No!” Bryan groaned, but couldn’t stop you from following Martha to the family photo albums.

He had no power here.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @welcometothemadxxhouse / @stardust-fray / @dreila03 / @tropes-and-tales / @the-baby-bookworm / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends

(I also just tagged everyone who commented/reblogged the last chapter even if u didn’t ask so uhhh >_> lmk if you hate that?)

#Bryan Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #raul esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #moodboard #The Good Fight #My writing

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years ago

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El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 50: Holding Your Breath

Source: @fortheloveofbarba

Chapters 1-45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49

************ NOTE: This is one of the endings to this story. But there will a few more chapters, which can be considered an alternate ending. After you read this chapter, PLEASE read the note afterward to decide whether you would like to read on. ************

It was bizarre to Rafael that a place could be both hectic and dull at the same time. He couldn’t understand how he could possibly be both terrified and bored. He hated every slowly crawling second in this crowded, dingy waiting room; useless, out of his mind with fear for Laura, and unable to do a damn thing to help her. He wished he could scream and throw every piece of crappy furniture in the room through the dirty windows. He also wished he could crawl under the plastic couch he was sitting on, curl up in the fetal position and cry. Instead, he did what he had been doing for the past – what, week? He sat looking at his shoes, trying to tune out all the sharp sounds jangling his strained psyche. Every time a phone rang or an announcement came over the PA system, lightning shot through every nerve in his body.

Olivia came and sat next to him. “You know,” she said with attempted lightheartedness, “I think this is the worst I’ve ever seen you look.”

“Oh, good. It’s the worst I’ve ever felt. I like symmetry.”

“Can I get you anything? Coffee?” “Hell no. I’m so strung out now I’m gonna fly apart any minute.” He sighed heavily. “Either that or implode. I haven’t decided yet.”

She simply sat quietly next to him as they waited. Hours passed.

Finally, mercifully, an older black man in surgical scrubs pushed tiredly through the double doors separating the waiting room from the surgical and recovery suites beyond. He called for the Parker family. Three quarters of the room stood and stepped toward him.

A group of about thirty cops and firefighters gathered around the surgeon, naturally moving so that Rafael and Olivia were positioned face to face with him. “You family?” He asked, looking around at the uniforms and badges.

“We are,” Olivia said firmly.

He clearly knew first responders. He asked no questions and didn’t hesitate. “Well, the Detective’s out of surgery, and she’s stable for the moment. She got incredibly lucky, in one sense. The bullet barely grazed the brain. I’m not expecting any trouble there.” His voice lowered an octave. “But that’s the good news.”

“And the bad news?” Rafael’s voice cracked as he asked the question he did not want the answer to. Olivia put an arm around him.

“The brain is surrounded by layers of lining, with fluid in between, right? It’s like a cushion between the brain and the skull. Well, the bullet tore the hell out of those layers of lining as it passed through. That’s what took so long, repairing that damage.”

“But you were able to repair it?” Olivia asked anxiously.

“Yes, I was. But the brain really doesn’t like to be disturbed. When it is, its reaction is to swell. And that’s the problem. Detective Parker’s brain has suffered significant trauma. And it’s already beginning to swell. The skull is a limited space. It’s bone. It can’t stretch. So if there is enough swelling, her brain will begin to be squeezed against the skull, which damages it. And if there is too much swelling, it can cause… catastrophic damage.”

“Catastrophic damage,” Olivia repeated, looking intensely into the surgeon’s face. She shot a quick look at Rafael. Quietly, she continued. “You’re saying she could die.”

“We’re doing everything we can to minimize the pressure, and we’ll continue to do that. But yes. She could die.”

Rafael looked sick.

“If we can get her through the next 48 hours, then she can make a full recovery. But I need to be straight with you. If you’re the praying sort, now is the time.”

The assembled cops and firefighters mumbled thanks to the surgeon as he turned to go.

“I need to see her.” Raphael managed to croak around the painful constriction in his throat. He was pretty sure he was going to vomit sometime in the next few minutes.

The surgeon turned to him. In a voice that conveyed his kindness and his understanding of the depth of Rafael’s pain, he answered, “We’ll be moving her to ICU. As soon as she’s settled, someone will take you to the waiting room up there. As long as she’s stable, we’ll see.” He turned and disappeared through the double doors.

Now that Laura was out of surgery, some of those assembled in the waiting room had to get home to their families, or back on duty. With muted, somber voices, they said their farewells and shuffled out.

Soon only Rafael, Olivia, Fin, Carisi, and Rollins were left, standing in a tight knot. Rollins said, “So she’s made it through surgery. That’s a start. I gotta believe she’s gonna get through this. She’s tough, you know?”

“Tough as nails, man,” Fin agreed quietly.

“Look, I know I’m not going to be able to think about anything else tonight, but I gotta get home to the girls. Please, call me if anything changes, will you?”

They all agreed that they would. Rollins hugged Rafael and whispered, “Hang in there. I’ll be praying for her,” before heading down the hall.

Fin, always protective of Olivia, tried to talk her into going home to Noah, but she said she wasn’t ready. “I’ll just stay until she’s settled in ICU,” she said.

“I’m picking up her parents at the airport when they land,” Carisi said. “I got just enough time to stop by the chapel and say a few hundred Hail Marys before I need to head out. Call me. For anything.”

“Will do,” Fin assured him. Carisi squeezed Rafael’s shoulder before he, too, headed out.

An hour later, Rafael, Olivia, and Fin were ushered up to the ICU waiting room. One of the nurses came briefly out to the waiting room to explain that even the short trip from the recovery ward to ICU had caused a spike in Laura’s intracranial pressure and destabilized her condition to the point that the surgeon could not allow any visitors. He promised that the surgeon, whose name was Dr. Webb, would come to speak with them again when he could.

Time crawled. After half an hour of total silence, Rafael looked pleadingly over at Olivia, sprawled in a chair across a scarred wooden coffee table from where he sat on another plastic couch.

“How am I… What am I supposed to do if…” he began shakily. He couldn’t speak the thought.

Olivia went to sit next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’re going to get through this. Together. One step at a time.”

From his chair next to the one Olivia had vacated, Fin said, “I got faith. You gotta have some, too. The man upstairs has got this.”

Rafael just stared blankly, the tortured look in his red-rimmed eyes tearing at Fin’s heart.

“Hey, counselor, you know you can’t blame yourself for this, don’t you? That asshole with the gun, he’s the one to blame. This is in no way on you.”

Raphael’s features twisted with tired fury. “Bullshit. I’m the one he was coming for. I should be the one in there with a bullet in the head, not her.”

“That’s not how it works. You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us,” Fin replied.

“Fin is right, Rafa. Any one of us would’ve done what she did. It’s the job. And when she wakes up, she’s going to tell you that.”

The tortured look on Rafael’s face said everything about the hellish fear and guilt that threatened to tear him apart

They heard the swish of the automatic door into the ICU and Dr. Webb entered the waiting room. All three stood up.

“We got her stabilized, for now. Her pressure’s still climbing, but I’m encouraged by her response to the drugs we’re giving her. Listen, I’m not going anywhere, and she’s in for a long night. I really encourage you folks to go home and get some rest.”

“I need to see my wife.” Rafael said.

“I figured you’d say that. I can let you see her, but when I say ‘see her’ I mean stand in the doorway and look in at her for a moment. That’s it. Any stimulation can increase her intracranial pressure and she’s already got two nurses in there with her.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Rafael quietly assented.

Olivia and Fin waited while Rafael and the surgeon went through the doors into the ICU. Moments later, Rafael was again ushered out into the waiting room. He still looked ravaged, but perhaps a bit less wild with fear.

“How’s she look?” Olivia asked tenderly.

All Rafael said was, “Tiny.”

At that point, Fin took charge, instructing Olivia that he was going to drive her home. Looking at Rafael, he said, “I’m comin’ back. I know there’s no point asking you to go home.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then give me your keys. I’ll stop by your apartment and pick up a change of clothes for you.” Of all the signs that Rafael wasn’t doing well, the fact that he mutely handed his keys over scared Fin the most.

When they had gone, Rafael stood staring out the window at nothing. He prayed with an intensity born of terror, dimly hoping that something in his repeated pleas for Laura’s life would get God’s attention. “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre...”[1]

Around midnight, Carisi arrived with Laura’s parents. Carol Parker tearfully enveloped Rafael in a tight hug that he found surprisingly comforting. He quickly caught them up with the events that had occurred after Carisi left to pick them up. They exchanged meaningless chatter about the Parkers’ flight from Illinois, and then Carol announced that she was going in to look at Laura. Rafael mentioned that she might not be allowed to. As she drily told him that she pitied anyone who tried to stop her, she reminded him so much of Laura that he caught his breath and teared up again.

“No disrespect, counselor, but I’ve seen you look better.” Carisi said gently. “She’s in the best hands she could be, and there’s nothing we can do to help. Why don’t you let me drop you off at home?”

“Not gonna happen,” Rafael growled wearily. Carisi didn’t bother to argue. He simply said his goodbyes, muttered some hopeful words, and left for the night.

Rafael and Laura’s father took seats at right angles to eachother around the coffee table. Ed Parker leaned forward, elbows on his knees. If he’d had any doubts about Rafael’s love for Laura, the look on Rafael’s face and the wired exhaustion in his posture would have resolved them. Looking at him, Ed said, “Rafael, you look like crap.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“We’ve been here before, did you know that? Twice.”

“Hmmm?” In his distress and weariness, Rafael wasn’t sure what Ed meant.

“Did Laura ever tell you what finally got her into rehab?”

“She said she had to have emergency surgery. An ulcer.”

Ed rubbed his chin, remembering. “There was a little more to it than that. The ulcer perforated her stomach. She threw up a pretty good amount of her blood volume before they got her to the hospital. And the blood she had left had a potentially lethal level of alcohol in it. When they took her into surgery, the doc told us to prepare ourselves for the worst. So we did. I think that was the darkest moment of my life.”

He paused and sighed. “She was so beat up from drinking, I didn’t know whether she had any fight left in her. And I didn’t know if she had anything left to fight for. But she fought like hell, and she made it. And then she went straight into rehab and fought like hell there. And she got sober.”

Rafael got the message, but didn’t know how to respond.

“You know she was attacked.”

“I know.”

“Well, they said she shouldn’t have survived that, either. But she was absolutely not going to let that asshole win. And she didn’t. You’ve been married for over two years now. You may have noticed my daughter can be stubborn.”

They shared what passed for laughter in the situation.

Ed touched Rafael on the arm to make sure he was listening. “So here’s the thing. I get that Laura’s in trouble, and I understand how serious this is. I’m not kidding myself about where we are. But this time, she has everything to fight with, and everything to fight for. She has you to fight for. I’m not trying to tell you not to be scared. Hell, I’m scared to death. But don’t you give up hope. You said it yourself, in a fight, the smart money’s always gonna be on Laura.”

Rafael smiled weakly. He realized then how glad he was that Laura’s parents were here with him. They were perhaps the only other people who could begin to love her as much as he did. He also realized how fond he had grown of them, and that somewhere over the last two years, he’d formed a bond with Laura’s father. Which is why Ed deserved to know that it was Rafael’s fault his daughter was now fighting for her life.

“Ed, there’s something you should know. This is my fault. That bullet was meant for me. There was a guy –“

Ed cut him off. “I know what happened. Sonny told us. And I know my daughter. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that she did what she did. If you’re about to apologize, you’d be apologizing for Laura being who she is. And that would just be absurd.”

Rafael could only manage to whisper a strangled, “Thank you.”

Carol returned from seeing Laura. Sometime later, Fin returned with a gym bag that held some clothes and toiletries for Rafael. In his uncomfortable chair, Rafael fell into a grief-induced sleep listening to Laura’s parents and Fin talking in low voices.

The next day passed in an endless drone of bored anxiety, punctuated by visits from friends and coworkers. All the conversations were the same but, really, what was there to say? It felt to Rafael like standing on the edge of a knife poised over a canyon. Standing there hurt like hell, but falling off would be worse.

The only positive news was that Laura had no further pressure spikes since the initial spike when she was transferred to ICU and, by mid-afternoon, her intracranial pressure had stopped climbing. Dr. Webb said that he was encouraged but, despite Rafael’s relentless efforts, would not revise his prognosis.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barba. I would like nothing better than to give you good news. But I’d be lying to you. There’s hope. She’s holding her own right now, and we are going to continue to do everything possible to get her through this. But her condition is still critical.”

“Doctor, when will we know? I know you said the first 48 hours after surgery were crucial, but… how will we know she’s going to be OK?” Carol’s voice was tearful, but determined.

“When she wakes up, we’ll know,” Dr. Webb answered.

Late in the afternoon, the surgeon returned to update the visitors gathered in the ICU waiting room, which included the entire SVU team. Because Laura’s condition had been stable throughout the day, he said that he would allow one visitor to sit with her for a few minutes. Everyone seemed to naturally turn their eyes to Laura’s mother.

When she realized it, Carol said, “I know how this is going to sound, but I don’t think it should be me. She needs calm and quiet, and I just…” she had to pause a moment to sniffle. “I don’t think I can go in there and look at my little girl with her head all bandaged, and that horrible monitor in her brain, and…” she couldn’t continue. She collapsed into Ed as he put an arm around her.

“Rafael, you go in. Give her a kiss for us,” Ed told him gruffly, his own emotions dangerously near the surface.

“All of us,” Olivia added.

So Rafael found himself seated next to Laura’s bed, the room as dimly lit as possible with the sliding glass door pulled nearly shut to keep out the noise from the busy nurses’ station just outside. The nurse had told him that he could hold her hand, but to keep their hands still and not to otherwise disturb her.

He sat, simply looking at her, for a long time. As his eyes became accustomed to the dimness, he took in the bulky, white bandage that completely covered her head, except for her pale, still face. She had deep, dark circles under both eyes. She breathed quietly and shallowly, the rising and falling of her chest barely perceptible under the blankets. The banks of machines surrounding the head of the bed looked to him like the cockpit of an airplane – no, there were too many for that. A spaceship.

It was obvious how badly hurt she was. Yet Rafael was astounded at how much quieter his mind was, how dulled his fear was, simply because he could see and touch her. He didn’t have to wonder what was happening, because she was right there next to him. So when, after about fifteen minutes, the nurse came to tell him it was time to go back to the waiting room, he simply and quietly refused.

She tried to convince him, but very quickly saw that he was absolutely uncompromising. He didn’t argue. He politely told her he would not leave Laura, and didn’t move. She left the room, and was quickly replaced by Dr. Webb. The surgeon had been here before. He recognized the situation for what it was – Rafael had no intention of doing anything that would endanger Laura, and no intention of leaving her. It would be useless to argue, and would only risk disturbing his patient. He reviewed the data from the monitors and, reasoning that Rafael’s presence had not caused any negative change in her delicate status, decided that there was no reason to press the issue. He instructed the nurses to let Rafael stay with Laura, as long as she remained stable.

As the afternoon progressed into evening, the nurses noted that Laura’s intracranial pressure had fallen slightly. Her blood pressure had also improved, and her pulse was a bit stronger. Rafael sat quietly, one hand holding Laura’s, the other on the bedrail where he rested his chin on it. He watched her, hour upon hour, as the evening went on. The nurses wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t disturb him as they quietly and efficiently did their work.

What he was actually doing was trying not to think. He just wanted to be there with Laura, breathing with her, praying for her when he remembered to, and enjoying the occasional memory of something she had said, or something they had done together. Too often, a vision of the moment the night before, when she had thrown herself at him to knock him out of harm’s way, intruded into his thoughts. He saw her, again and again, register the movement of the shooter as he stood from his hiding place to fire at Rafael. He heard her shout, felt her weight crash into him, relived the horrible moment when he reacted to the fall and she did not. Saw her limp form, too much blood already pooling around her head. The overwhelming pain of those intrusive images sickened him. Only knowing that he needed to be quiet for her kept him from groaning out loud. He could not even begin to touch the bottomless pool of guilt that threatened every moment to engulf him.

As midnight neared he sat, eyes staring unseeing at her hand in his, their wedding rings touching. He again thought back to her lying there on the ground. He winced. He relived the frantic scene as the paramedics worked on her, and the seemingly eternal ambulance ride to Mercy Hospital. At the edge of consciousness, he caught a faint, breathy groan, like a sleeper reluctantly awakening with a colossal hangover. He looked, startled to see Laura’s eyes drowsily looking back at him. Her expression was confused, sluggish.

“You look terrible,” she whispered hoarsely.

Rafael burst into tears, even as he laughed. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it fiercely.

“Hi,” he finally managed.

“Hi.” She replied in the same hoarse, tired whisper. Her brow furrowed. “Did I get beat up again?”

“You got shot.”

Her eyes widened in drowsy surprise. “Huh. That’s a new one. Where?”

She moved as if checking herself, then grimaced in pain and put her hand to her head. “Oh. Found it.”

Rafael smiled through his tears. “The doctor says you’re going to be fine,” he said, kissing her hand again where it was still clasped to his lips.

“That’s nice,” she murmured groggily, her eyes beginning to close again.

“I need to tell them you’re awake.”

“OK,” she sighed.

While Dr. Webb and the staff checked on Laura, Rafael went to the waiting room to tell Laura’s parents and the squad, all of whom were there, the news that she had awoken. There were more tears at this joyful news than any of them had allowed themselves during the crisis.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Webb came out to the waiting room. They all crowded around him. “I’ve done a number of tests, and Detective Parker appears to be entirely neurologically intact. I’m confident that, barring any unforeseen events, she is going to make a full recovery.” More tears flowed and Carol actually hugged Dr. Webb.

“What she needs now is rest. Her body needs a chance to heal itself. What I normally say at this point is that you all need to go home and no visitors until tomorrow. And I am going to say that. But first, she is insisting – no, she’s demanding – to see her husband for a few minutes. I shouldn’t allow it, but she says if I don’t, she will get up and come out to him. I believe her.”

This threat, so typical of Laura, caused the room to erupt in relieved laughter.

Rafael followed Dr. Webb back into Laura’s room. Laura smiled sleepily and held a hand out to him. He sat down next to her bed, holding her hand in both of his. Tears were running down his cheeks.

“I don’t remember anything. But I can guess what happened,” she murmured weakly.

A curtain of pain fell over Rafael’s face. He looked down at their clasped hands. In an anguished voice he asked, “How many times are you going to get between me and a bullet?”

“Every time,” she whispered.

He shook his head and couldn’t look at her. “Damn it, Laura,” he whispered.

“Amor[2], look at me,” she finally mumbled. Willing himself to comply, he dragged his eyes back to look into hers.

“It’s your fault I love you. But this? My choice. Not your fault.” She briefly winced in pain, and again had to rest a moment before continuing in her weak, scratchy whisper. “Got it?”

“You’re telling me you chose to get shot?”

“Wasn’t exactly Plan A.” She gave a weak laugh. “But rather me than you.”

“Not to me. I would much rather get shot than see you like this,” he responded, his voice serious and full of love.

“Tough luck. I got better reflexes.”

They smiled at one another for a moment before she continued.

“Need a favor,” she whispered, becoming exhausted from the effort of speaking.

“Anything.”

“Imma crawl back under this morphine. Sleep for a long time.” She had to rest again, eyes closed. She grimaced and gave a feeble groan.

“That’s an excellent plan. What do you need me to do for you?”

“Go home. Sleep too. Else I’ll worry ‘bout you. Won’t enjoy my narcotics.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and hung his head wearily, occasional tears still streaking his cheeks. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Hazlo.”[3]

“I’m leaving your parents here with you.”

“Don’t make me negotiate. Got shot in the head.”

He looked up at her again, chuckling and crying at the same time. “There’s no negotiation here. I’ll go home, but I’m leaving your parents here with you. And I’m calling my Mami.”

She smiled tiredly, already beginning to doze. “OK. Te amo,[4] Rafael.” Her voice trailed to a barely audible whisper as she fell asleep saying his name.

He took his time, simply looking at her. Then he leaned over and placed the softest of kisses on her lips. “Te amo. Dios, cómo te amo.”[5]

******

Lying between Rafael’s legs with her back against his chest, Laura laughed at a cheesy line spoken by a macho spy type to the woman he was trying to seduce. She was getting very tired of the hospital, but at least she was in a regular room now, where she and Rafael could be snuggled together as they watched movies, or talked, or read. She could feel him playing with the ends of the beautiful new scarf Lucia had given her to wrap around her head.

“As many hats and scarves as your mami has given me, either she really hates my shaved head or she wishes she’d have had a girl to dress up.”

“Neither. She just loves you. She wants to spoil you.”

The raw emotion was back in Rafael’s voice. The shooting had been much harder on him than it had on her. She wasn’t surprised to feel his arms tighten around her, and didn’t make a sound when he squeezed her hard enough to make her head hurt. When his embrace loosened, she maneuvered herself around so that she was still laying on his chest but could see his face, and wiped a tear from his cheek.

“It’s OK, amado,[6]” she whispered. “I’m right here. I’m fine.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he said, for the thousandth time since she’d been shot six days before.

“I know. But I’m not going anywhere. Haven’t you figured that out by now? I would’ve thought when we got married, that would be a clue.”

Rafael leaned his head down to hers, closing his eyes and saying yet another prayer of thanks.

Laura reassured him again that she was all right, and the mood passed as quickly as it had come over him, the way it always did. The trauma counselor had said that this was the way it would be for him for a while, until he’d fully processed what had happened. The counselor had also said that exactly what they were doing – being together doing normal things, and reassuring him as often as he needed it – was all it would take.

“Have I told you lately how happy I am?” Laura asked. “And how much I love being married to you?

“I actually have some time, if you'd care to tell me now.”

“Well, buckle up, Harvard, because it's a lot.”

Laura turned off the movie and spent a long time telling Rafael all the things she loved about him, and their life together, even though she was well aware that he already knew. He didn't mind hearing it again. And when she was done, he made her laugh, even while she cried a few tears of overflowing happiness, by laying out a quite logical, well-constructed, and entirely convincing argument why he, in fact, was more in love, and the happier spouse. After that, they lay cuddling in the dark, dreaming dreams together, and devising plans for making them all come true.

[1] Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…

[2] Love

[3] Do it.

[4] I love you.

[5] I love you. God, how I love you.

[6] Beloved

IMPORTANT ***** IMPORTANT ***** IMPORTANT****

This is the end of the story – a (YAY!) happy ending for Rafael and Laura. I wrote it that way because I freaking ADORE Rafael Barba. I also really like you guys. I appreciate your reading this and supporting me while I wrote it more than I can say.

Please, if this is the ending you want, the only one you can live with, consider this that happy ending. Because it is. The whole reason I wrote this chapter the way I did is so we get this ending. (Because I want it, too.)

But you’re going to notice that there are more chapters. Here’s the thing. I don’t want my friends coming after me with pitchforks and torches. This can be the ending. Or the rest of the chapters can be the ending. Or, this story can have alternate endings. IT’S YOUR CHOICE. I absolutely do not want to upset or disappoint my fellow members of Team Rafael. That’s why I’m including this note at the risk of being kind of a major spoiler. PLEASE DO NOT READ THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS AND THEN FLAME ME BECAUSE YOU CAN’T LIVE WITH ANY ENDING OTHER THAN THIS ONE. Please stop here, with my deepest thanks for reading and letting me know you were here.

If you are OK with considering a different ending, and choose to read on, great! I promise a happy ending, just a different happy ending.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice #olivia benson #fin tutuola

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thedollarcrate · 6 years ago

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“I Heard You Say” and “I Won’t Be Long” by Vivian Girls

I prefer order and reliability over chaos and change. I favor predictability to spontaneity. And I find symmetry and balance more pleasing than the asymmetric and erratic.

That’s probably why I’ve had the same wallet for 16 years, why I need five days’ notice to go out on a weekend night, and why I decided to end the year the same way I started it.

And that’s also probably why I’m not punk. Or what we think is punk – wild, carefree, and rebellious.

For my long time readers, you might recall that I started the year off with a series of posts featuring punk 45s I picked up in a $5 surprise grab bag at Logan Hardware in Chicago (RIP). I called it “Punk Week.”

There were a few I didn’t cover during that week, so given my un-punklike sensibilities I thought it only seemed rational to have the year come full circle and give one of the 45s I didn’t listen to a spin.

I’m glad I gave Vivian Girls a shot.

Both “I Heard You Say” and “I Won’t Be Long” are filled with hazy vocals and harmonies, shimmering guitars and crisp drum beats. They’re a sunset in a rearview mirror on a west coast drive or a campfire on a starry autumn night – warm, embracing but slightly cool and distant. They’re also subtly defiant, sending a warning to the lovers who leave that you won’t stick around to welcome them back.

And I’m glad I gave “Punk Week” (or now “Punk Year”?) a shot, too.

Even though I found some 45s better than others, each allowed me to experience a genre of music I don’t typically listen to. Along the way, I discovered that as much as I had notions or expectations about what punk should or shouldn’t sound like, they quickly got shattered. I realized punk isn’t just a single sound with a core set of musical characteristics - it can be anything.

In other words, Vivian Girls doesn’t have to sound like Assfort and Louis Tully doesn’t have to play the same music as Social Circkle to be punk. Punk is about people and bands offering their own unique voices, perspectives, and style in a world that too often breads conformity.

So maybe I discovered that to be punk is simply to be your true self. And maybe that means we can all be punk – no matter what that means.

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sarcasticjuiceboxes · 7 years ago

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Tagged by the demonic @shesdreaming04you. It’s funny cause just yesterday I was thinking of making up my own tag game with songs that make you think/feel different things. We’re in sync and it’s beautiful. Anyway:

RULES: ANSWER ALL THE QUESTIONS THEN TAG 3 PEOPLE YOU FOLLOW AND 3 PEOPLE THAT FOLLOW YOU THAT YOU WANT TO GET GO KNOW BETTER

I’m gonna use my full playlist just cause it’s more fun and also I want people to know I do listen to things other than kpop mkay?

1. A SONG YOU LIKE WITH A COLOR IN THE TITLE?

A: The Blue Van - White Heat

2. A SONG YOU LIKE WITH A NUMBER IN THE TITLE?

A: SEVENTEEN - 13월의 춤 (Lilili Yabbay)

3. A SONG THAT REMINDS YOU OF SUMMER?

A: IAMX - Land of Broken Promises

4. A SONG THAT REMINDS YOU OF SOMEONE YOU’D RATHER FORGET?

A: I don’t really think I want to forget anyone tbh

5. A SONG THAT NEEDS TO BE PLAYED OUT LOUD?

A: EXO - Dancing King

6. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO DANCE?

A: Block B - Shall We Dance

7. A SONG TO DRIVE TO?

A: Kim Yoon Ah - The Road (also known as “My Signal Feels”)

8. A RANDOM SONG YOU THINK OF FIRST?

A: Tenacious D - Master Exploder

9. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY?

A: WINNER - Really Really

10. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU SAD?

A: Naruto OST - Itachi’s Theme (also known as “WHY”)

11. A SONG YOU NEVER GET TIRED OF?

A: EXO - Touch It

12. A SONG FROM YOUR PAST?

A: Korn - Word Up

13. A SONG THAT’S SEXY?

A: Glass Animals - Jdnt

14. A SONG TO BE PLAYED AT YOUR WEDDING?

A: Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat - Lucky

15. A SONG YOU’RE CURRENTLY OBSESSED WITH?

A: Girl’s Day - Something

16. A SONG YOU USED TO LOVE BUT NOW HATE?

A: Leighton Meester & Robin Thicke - Somebody To Love (don’t get me wrong the song is dope and I still like it but... Robin Thicke)

17. A SONG YOU’D SING A DUET WITH AT KARAOKE?

A: Ville Vallo & Natalia Avelon - Summer Wine || Kylie Minogue & Nick Cave - Where The Wild Roses Grow

18. A SONG FROM THE YEAR YOU WE’RE BORN?

A: Savage Garden - To The Moon and Back (heh)

19. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU THINK ABOUT LIFE?

A. Blue Öyster Cult - Don’t Fear The Reaper

20. A SONG THAT HAS MANY MEANINGS TO YOU?

A: Muse - Feeling Good (but the entire Origins of Symmetry album tbh)

21. A SONG YOU THINK EVERYONE SHOULD LISTEN TO?

A: EXO - Been Through (지나갈 ��니)

22. A SONG BY A GROUP YOU STILL WISH WAS TOGETHER?

A: Sistar - Alone (나혼자)

23. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO FALL IN LOVE?

A: Cage the Elephant - Portuguese Knife Fight (my ultimate serenade song)

24. A SONG THAT BREAKS YOUR HEART?

A: SHINee - Quasimodo

25. A SONG WITH AMAZING VOCALS?

A: Baekhyun & Chen - Really I Didn’t Know

26. A SONG WITH AMAZING RAP?

A: MONSTA X - Tropical Night || B.A.P - Warrior

27. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

A: G.Soul - I’ll Be There

28. A SONG THAT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD ABOUT YOURSELF?

A: Lay - Peach (is this wrong because if it is, I don’t want to be right)

29. A SONG THAT YOU WOULD DEDICATE TO YOU AND YOUR BEST FRIEND/MUTUAL/ SOMEONE CLOSE TO YOU?

A: BtoB - Missing You (그리워하다) (to @wonholliness cause I do)

30. A SONG THAT REMINDS YOU OF YOURSELF?

A: Bruno Mars - Talking To The Moon

Tagging: @exoistheuniverse, @youngestk, @gentlejongin, @jihoonluv, @chanyeolsuniverse, @snoqlax

#about

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81scorp · 5 years ago

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What is Narrative flow?

“Narrative flow” is a word that I have heard a few times. I didn`t know quite what it was so I decided to search for it. I found a few answers.

(Helpingwritersbecomeauthors) Narrative flow simply refers to how a story moves. A piece of writing with narrative flow is like a peaceful stream, while one without it might be more like a river blocked by a dam. When a story flows, readers will absorb the narrative like a sponge.

(Yahoo answers) From an editor's perspective, narrative flow is whatever works to keep the reader absorbing the story, main plot, subplots, description, without any feeling of annoyance born out of sensing discontinuity, something incongruous, protagonist, antagonist or other characters behaving in ways that are not natural to them. Different writers will achieve narrative flow in different ways; this is not a "paint by the numbers," or "do what Hemingway would do." Sometimes the hardest thing for a writer is simply to be himself or herself in telling a story. When we tell a neighbor a story "over the back fence" we typically do it quite naturally--and with good narrative flow. We get in trouble when we strain to achieve certain effects, dazzle the reader with description, make a character do something outlandish not in synch with who he has established himself to be in the story. Nonetheless narrative flow can also be crippled by not providing enough information within a scene. It's especially important to not raise questions in the reader's mind that you, the author, do not answer (at least eventually). That is a cardinal sin against narrative flow.

(Shifti) The flow of a narrative is one of the most important parts of telling a story. But it is one of the least understood parts of the art. Why is it so hard to understand? Because the concept is hard to define and the way it works is not well understood. So what is "Narrative Flow", how does it work and why is it so important? Let me answer those in the reverse order that they were asked. Narrative Flow is important because it keeps the reader engrossed in the story being told and assists in building and maintaining a "willing suspension of disbelief". How does it work? Quite simply it works by allowing the reader to lose track of the individual words as the scenes and situations play out in their minds. When a story has a great flow the reader will make it from the start of the story to the end and not notice how long it has taken.

Then what exactly is "Narrative Flow"? It is the congruence of the author's narrative voice and the proper use of the language in which the story is being written. And what does that mean? Well… When the language is used properly the sentences will "flow together" such that the punctuation marking the end of a sentence does not constitute more than a notional break, just as the separation between paragraphs will not constitute more than a notional separation between separate ideas. And I can hear it now: "But how can I know when I've got good flow going on?" That, sadly, is not easy to answer. For some people there is a hard to quantify "feeling" about the flow and for others it takes the form of different tricks. The single most effective trick is to read the story out loud and listen for where you want to phrase things differently than how it is written. Take a look at the following paragraph—it's borrowed from a story that some friends are working on and highlights a breaking of flow. "Fearfully, she glanced around the seemingly deserted structure. But it was dark, and her night vision hadn't been the same since shi'd been nearly blinded by a mortar blast months ago. She didn't have much time, but she wasn't about to walk into a trap—not again. Sniffing the air revealed not much, but it wouldn't be the first time her nose had failed her."

The flow in that example is broken because of the un-natural structuring of the sentences. While they are all technically correct the structuring does not sound natural. Go ahead and read it out loud yourself—don't you find yourself wanting to change the wording? That, dear reader, is how you can tell for sure that the flow is broken. Fixing that paragraph is possible, but a possible fix with it would be something like the following (note that this is what I have suggested to one of the authors of the story this example is taken from and is not, exactly, how I'd expect them to fix it): "She glanced around the apparently deserted structure fearfully. The dark hampered her vision, which hadn't been the same since she'd nearly been blinded by a mortar blast several months ago. There wasn't much time, but she wasn't about to walk into a trap again. Sniffing the air didn't reveal much, but it would not be the first time her nose had failed her." See what I've done for the suggestion? It changes the word selection, re-orders the clauses of the sentences into a more natural order and gives an idea of how to fix the flow problem. A real fix would take the author of the original—who know a lot more about the character than I do—rewriting the paragraph themselves. Oh, and now you want to know why people have problems with flow? Why thanks for the easy question! The most common group of people that have problems with flow are new authors. They tend to feel that they have to fully express their narrative voice in every sentence. This leads to them trying to make every sentence unique and causes them to lose flow because of un-natural use of the language and this causes the narrative to become "stilted" and lose flow. Another common group are those that feel the advice to keep sentences short and structure simple as a hard-and-fast rule. That action leads to them forcing their sentences to be either un-naturally short or un-naturally simplistic. This makes the narrative feel stilted, out-of-place or both, breaking the natural flow and, if it comes after the first several paragraphs, will completely jolt the reader out of the story. And what of the type of flow breakage that I gave as an example above? That kind of breakage is not as common as the two I've detailed above in "finished" works you'll find on the websites of amatuer authors and in other places on the web. It is, however, extremely common in early drafts of stories and is mostly caused by the author needing to get the ideas of the narrative written. The reason it isn't common in works you'll find on the net is that the authors usually catch them and fix them before making the story public. But note that writing truly is an art. There are no "hard-and-fast" rules to writing outside of the basic rules of syntax and grammar that all languages have. Even narrative flow can be intentionally broken and not be an error. Wow… That is a lot of people scratching heads all at once. And yes, I see the raised hands. No, I'm not going to call on you because I already know the question. "Why, after all the time you've spent explaining what narrative flow is and how insanely important it is do you go and tell us that it can be intentionally broken? Doesn't that go against everything you've just said?" The answer to the latter question is 'No'. As to the former question… I am telling you because it is the truth. There is no reason to slavishly hold onto the flow of a narrative, but if you want to break it intentionally you had better have a very good reason. There are some places where it is imperative to break the flow of a narrative—almost always to drive home the importance of some event or statement by a character. And when you do break the flow there it should be in such a subtle manner that the reader doesn't notice—they just get the point of the statement or event and go "What the Frak?!?" You can also break the flow to highlight action. If it's confusing, disjointed or just something that a good director (no, not Uwe Boll!) would use a fast-cut for when filming or editing, you can break the flow using a few specific tricks—like purposefully short and staccato sentences—to mimic that effect. Similarly you can break the flow to to highlight sudden, violent movement or something occurring that comes as a complete and total surprise to the viewpoint character (if you have one). An example of the above—breaking flow to highlight confusing action and mimic "fast cuts"—follows. Again, I found it in a story written by a couple friends of mine. The confusion in it is in the viewpoint characters mind—caused by events that were ongoing at that point in the story. Being out of context it probably will sound more broken and make less sense than it otherwise would. Time slowed down. Time sped up. Everything happened at once. Everything remained frozen forever. Somewhere, someone screamed. Someone cried. Someone YOWLED. Strongtail's throat was raw. There were bits of something stuck between her teeth, and something wet and salty on her tongue, and something wet pooled around her pawhands. See how the breakage isn't jarringly obvious? This is a subtle example, but it serves to present a flash of wild action, where many things are happening at the same time. Yes, the flow is broken in it and yes, it is normally something you'd want to avoid doing. But here it works well and doesn't cause the reader to be jarred out of the story at all—nor will it cause them to lose the "willing suspension of disbelief". For those wondering what exactly caused this specific choice of structuring for the example, well… The structuring itself has been done to highlight the symmetry of the flashes of confusion by making the sentences themselves highly symmetric. And the reason for the change from short, very active sentences to the much longer sentence that ends the example is because the confusion of the viewpoint character is fading—being replaced by a solid certainty of action and thought. Furthermore dialog can break the narrative flow itself. Sometimes it is natural that it breaks the ongoing flow without breaking the overall flow. At other times it is used to break the current narrative flow to further the plot or another key aspect of the story. However, in general, letting dialog break the flow instead of having the dialog fit into the flow cleanly is not something that should happen. Even when a character is speaking the language in a badly fractured manner it should fit with the flow so well that it "feels like it belongs there".

Hope these were useful

#narrative #flow #narrative flow #81scorp

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strangersihavedrawn · 7 years ago

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170ish albums/EPs you should have bought in 2017.

This year has been a strange one. After a pretty desperate 2016, our bubbles remain burst, our political systems are still in shambles, the planet is slowly dying. It’s business as usual pretty much, except this time all of our heroes are sex pests (Cue a bit of guesswork as to which album has been redacted from this list). Fortunately, business as usual means there’s too much good music to even keep track of, but I’ve done my best. So, without further faff, here’s my annual list in chronological order, with my featured album from each month in a doodle, as I am want to do.

January

04/01 Pink Guy - Pink Season (Self-Released) 13/01 Code Orange - Forever (Roadrunner) 13/01 Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Roman Lips (ORL Projects / Ipecac) 13/01 The xx - I See You (Young Turks) 20/01 As It Is - okay. (Fearless) 20/01 When We Team Up - Shut Up and Fly (Self-Released) 20/01 WSTR - Red, Green Or Inbetween (No Sleep) 21/01 Palladino - Supersymmetry (Hembleciya) 27/01 Japandroids - Near To The Wild Heart Of Life (Anti-) 27/01 Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Zen Thrills (ORL Projects / Ipecac) 29/01 On a Hiding to Nothing - Formaldehyde (Umlaut) 31/01 Push Over - Demo EP (Esque)

February

03/02 Less Than Jake - Sound The Alarm (Pure Noise) 03/02 The Menzingers - After the Party (Epitaph) 03/02 Smile and Burn - Get Better Get Worse (Uncle M / Grand Hotel Van Cleef) 10/02 Homebound - The Mould You Build Yourself Around (Rude) 10/02 Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Chocolate Tumor Hormone Parade (ORL Projects / Ipecac) 13/02 Glowbug - Fantasma Del Tropico (Self-Released) 24/02 Broadbay - Five Year Plan (Hanger / Copper Top) 24/02 Crystal Fairy - Crystal Fairy (Ipecac) 24/02 Decade - Pleasantries (Rude) 24/02 Guillotine - Sapphire (Failure By Design) 24/02 Nightlife - Salt & Acid (Speaking Tongues) 24/02 Thundercat - Drunk (Brainfeeder)

March

03/03 Converge - Jane Live (Deathwish, Inc.) 03/03 Minus The Bear - Voids (Suicide Squeeze) 10/03 Can’t Swim - Fail You Again (Pure Noise) 10/03 Self Defense Family - Bastard Form b/w Maybe You Could Explain It To Me (Alternatives Label) 11/03 Atta Girl - Betty’s Begonia (Trrrash) 13/03 Traits - Limits (Self-Released) 17/03 Pulled Apart By Horses - The Haze (Caroline International) 17/03 Sorority Noise - You’re Not As ____ As You Think (Triple Crown / Big Scary Monsters) 17/03 Stolas - Stolas (Equal Vision) 17/03 Western Addiction - Tremulous (Fat Wreck) 24/03 Catch Fire - A Love That I Still Miss (Rude) 24/03 Coast To Coast - The Length of a Smile (Fox) 24/03 Creeper - Eternity, In Your Arms (Roadrunner) 24/03 Fucked Up - Year Of The Snake (Tankcrimes) 24/03 Great Cynics - POSI (Specialist Subject / GUERRILLA ASSO / Lame-O) 24/03 Lotus Eater - Lotus Eater EP (Self-Released) 31/01 Mastodon - Emperor of Sand (Reprise)

April

07/04 Blood Youth - Beyond Repair (Rude) 07/04 Father John Misty - Pure Comedy (Bella Union) 07/04 The Flatliners - Inviting Light (Dine Alone / Rise) 07/04 The Smith Street Band - More Scared Of You Than You Are Of Me (Specialist Subject / Pool House / Side One Dummy) 14/04 Loathe - The Cold Sun (Sharptone) 15/04 Lost Avenue - Best Friends (Rustys Rekords) 16/04 Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. (Aftermath / Interscope) 20/04 Eternity Forever - Eternity Forever (Esque) 21/04 Bear Trade - Silent Unspeakable (Everything Sucks / Dead Broke / Waterslide) 21/04 Have Mercy - Make The Best Of It (Hopeless) 21/04 Self Defense Family - BBC Session (Deathwish, Inc.) 21/04 what gives - feels good (Skeletal Lightning) 21/04 The Winter Passing - Double Exposure (Big Scary Monsters / 6131) 28/04 Gorillaz - Humanz (Parlophone / Warner Bros.) 28/04 He Is Legend - few (Spinefarm) 28/04 New Found Glory - Makes Me Sick (Hopeless) 28/04 Thurston Moore - Rock N Roll Consciousness (Ecstatic Peace!)

May

01/05 X-TV - EXIT (Self-Released) 05/05 At The Drive-In - in.ter a.li.a (Rise) 05/05 Gnarwolves - Outsiders (Big Scary Monsters / Tangled Talk) 05/05 Mac Demarco - This Old Dog (Captured Tracks) 09/05 Self Defense Family - Wounded Masculinity (Triple B) 12/05 Gun Shy - The Long Dance (Wrong Way Round) 15/05 Jordan Mackampa - Tales For The Broken (Self-Released) 19/05 Employed To Serve - The Warmth of a Dying Sun (Holy Roar) 19/05 Higher Power - Soul Structure (Venn / Flatspot) 19/05 Miss Vincent - Somewhere Else (Uncle M) 19/05 Tigers Jaw - Spin (Black Cement) 26/05 Create To Inspire - Sickness (Basick) 26/05 Frenzal Rhomb - Hi-Vis High Tea (Fat Wreck) 26/05 Pet Symmetry - Vision (Polyvinyl)

June

02/06 ‘68 - Two Parts Viper (Cooking Vinyl) 02/06 Dystopian Future Movies - Time (Oak Tree) 02/06 Grove Street Families - VOL 1.0 (Venn) 02/06 Mutoid Man - War Moans (Sargent House) 02/06 Rainfalls - Creep (Self-Released) 05/06 EAT DIRT. - I (Self-Released) 08/06 Bares - Salty Kiss / In Lieu (Self-Released) 09/06 BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION (BROCKHAMPTON / EMPIRE Distribution) 09/06 Donnie Willow - Exhibition (Sunbird) 09/06 Kamikaze Girls - Seafoam (Big Scary Monsters) 16/06 Broadside - Paradise (Victory) 16/06 Chon - Homey (Sumerian) 16/06 Color Film - Living Arrangements (Epitaph) 16/06 Faux - Faux (Speaking Tongues) 16/06 Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up (Nonesuch) 16/06 Harbinger - Human Dust (Basick) 16/06 Portugal. The Man - Woodstock (Atlantic) 16/06 Single Mothers - Our Pleasure (Dine Alone / Big Scary Monsters) 23/06 Aviator - Loneliness Leaves The Light On For Me (No Sleep) 23/06 Rozwell Kid - Precious Art (SideOneDummy) 23/06 Slowlights - I Try So Hard (Killing Moon)

July

07/07 Melvins - A Walk With Love and Death (Ipecac) 07/07 Puppy - Vol. II (Spinefarm) 12/07 Baggage - The Good That Never Comes (Self-Released) 14/07 Bad Sign - Live & Learn (Basick) 14/07 Fights and Fires - Live Life Like a Tourist (Lockjaw) 14/07 The Gospel Youth - Always Lose (Rise) 19/07 Listener - Being Empty: Being Filled I (Truth Seeker / Black Bassett / Smiths Food Group DIY) 21/07 Energy - The Witching Hour (Self-Released) 21/07 Tyler, The Creator - Flower Boy (Columbia) 21/07 Wot Gorilla? - Angel Numbers (Self-REleased) 21/07 Young Hunger - Wear Me Down (Self-Released) 25/07 Converge - I Can Tell You About Pain (Epitaph / Deathwish, Inc.) 27/07 MC Lars - The Jeff Sessions (Horris Records) 28/07 Manchester Orchestra - A Black Mile to the Surface (Caroline International) 28/07 Milk Teeth - Be Nice (Roadrunner) 28/07 Oceans Ate Alaska - Hikari (Fearless)

August

04/08 Dale Crover - Fickle Finger Of Fate (Joyful Noise) 04/08 Dead Cross - Dead Cross (Ipecac) 11/08 The Cribs - 24-7 Rock Star Shit (Sonic Brew) 11/08 Mush - Protect Your Brand (Skeletal Lightning) 18/08 Everything Everything - A Fever Dream (Sony RCA) 18/08 Wallflower - Where It Fell Apart (Self-Released) 24/08 Fizzy Blood - Summer of Luv (Killing Moon / Ayla) 25/08 BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION II (Question Everything, Inc. / EMPIRE Distribution) 25/08 Queens Of The Stone Age - Villains (Matador) 25/08 Turnover - Good Nature (Run For Cover)

September

08/09 Comeback Kid - Outsider (New Damage / Nuclear Blast) 08/09 Death From Above - Outrage! Is Now (Last Gang) 08/09 Stray From The Path - Only Death Is Real (Sumerian) 08/09 Such Gold - Deep in a Hole (Bird Attack) 08/09 Angelo Badlamenti - Twin Peaks: Limited Event Series Original Soundtrack (Rhino) 08/09 Various Artists - Twin Peaks: Music from the Limited Event Series (Rhino) 15/09 The Apology Tour - This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (Save Your Generation) 15/09 Arcane Roots - Melancholia Hymns (Easy Life / Red Essential) 15/09 Beaumont - Honestly (Reclaim Music) 15/09 Hot Water Music - Light It Up (Rise) 15/09 Seaway - Vacation (Dine Alone / Pure Noise) 22/09 The Bronx - V (Cooking Vinyl) 22/09 Caracara - Summer Megalith (Flower Girl) 22/09 Circa Survive - The Amulet (Hopeless) 22/09 Mastodon - Cold Dark Place (Reprise) 22/09 Metz - Strange Peace (Sub Pop) 22/09 Prawn - Run (Topshelf) 29/09 Primus - The Desaturating Seven (ATO) 29/09 Propagandhi - Victory Lap (Epitaph) 29/09 The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die - Always Foreign (Epitaph)

October

06/10 Citizen - As You Please (Run For Cover) 13/10 Beck - Colors (Capitol) 13/10 Courtney Barnett & Kurt Vile - Lotta Sea Lice (Matador / Marathon / Milk!) 13/10 The Front Bottoms - Going Grey (Fueled By Ramen) 13/10 Iron Chic - You Can’t Stay Here (SideOneDummy) 13/10 Knuckle Puck - Shapeshifter (Rise) 13/10 Roam - Great Heights & Nosedives (Hopeless) 17/10 FUCK *(It’s Pronounced SHIT!)* - It’s Still Pronounced SHIT! (Self-Released) 20/10 Movements - Feel Something (Fearless) 20/10 Muskets - Chew (No Sleep) 21/10 Listener - Being Empty : Being Filled Vol. II (Black Basset) 27/10 Gold Key - Hello, Phantom (Venn) 27/10 Heavy Hearts - On a Chain (Failure By Design) 27/10 Jamie Lenman - Devolver (Big Scary Monsters) 27/10 Slaughter Beach, Dog - Birdie (Lame-O / Big Scary Monsters)

November

03/11 Converge - The Dusk In Us (Epitaph / Deathwish, Inc.) 03/11 Lifetight - Self-Tightled (Crooked Noise) 10/11 Listener - Being Empty : Being Filled Vol. III (Sounds of Subterrania) 10/11 Quicksand - Interiors (Epitaph) 10/11 Versus You - Birthday Boys (Noiseworks / G Chord) 17/11 Milk Teeth - Go Away (Roadrunner) 17/11 Onsind - We Wilt, We Bloom (Specialist Subject) 17/11 Valliers - Lost In Familiarity (Dream Atlantic) 24/11 At The Drive-In - Diamanté (Rise) 24/11 Björk - Utopia (One Little Indian) 24/11 Lightcliffe - For a While (Failure By Design) 24/11 Rain - Abstract Vision (Venn)

December

01/12 The Dear Hunter - All Is As All Should Be (Self-Released) 01/12 Glassjaw - Material Control (Century Media) 15/12 BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION III (Question Everything, Inc. / EMPIRE Distribution) 15/12 Gun Shy / THE EAST / summerbruise / Superdose Gangway - BSR / OPR 4-Way Split (Beth Shalom / Old Press) 15/12 Lemuria - Recreational Hate (Turbo Worldwide / Asian Man / Big Scary Monsters) 15/12 N.E.R.D - No One Ever Really Dies (i am OTHER / Columbia) 21/12 Original Sharks - Hundred Grand to the Man (Self-Released) 26/12 Scum Couch - Ignorant Bore (Self-Released) Okay, that’s your lot. Now go away.

#top of 2017 #brockhampton #strangersihavedrawn #converge #citizen #circa survive #wallflower #manchester orchestra #portugal. the man #gun shy #kendrick lamar #can't swim #the menzingers #CODE ORANGE

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nathaniel-g-blog · 5 years ago

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Mother

What is possible to express regarding your mother? How do you learn to love the world? Before I had finished writing about my fathers, I realized that project was only a prologue to writing about my mother, that first I had to write about the men to whom she was devoted, and also that I couldn't talk about her except by talking about the things she desires. What could I say about the most powerful force in my life? About someone I can only recognize by the way in which she made all our lives possible? What of the thing in and for itself? The failures of fathers are well-documented and described as shortcomings. The failures of mothers are unthinkable. The world is so composed that fathers fail and can always be replaced. Mothers fail, and what hope is left? Mothers cannot be what they are without everything being what it is, and we live in a world that does not match. Mothers are objects that give meaning to a world of objects while never becoming proper subjects themselves. Mothers are a nexus of desire, neither its source nor its end. This is to say that they are not just gendered, but in some sense their lives express the grammar of gender. The one who, as mother, wants nothing other than for you to be happy, and also must look to you to see herself. Motherhood as a state of perpetual panic. Fathers can exist in the fantastic binary of domination and subjection; mothers cannot, though the ones called mothers still somehow do. When you talk about your mother, you can talk about what she expressed, just like you can with anyone else, but what mothers also do is structure our relationships to expression. Several years ago the woman I was married to wanted me to go to a wine and painting party to celebrate her friend’s birthday. I volunteered to drive some other friends. It wasn’t my night, but I was excited to have a glass of wine and knew that creativity was fun and desirable. Who doesn’t dream of being an artist? I felt I had everything but the skill. I knew I wanted to express myself but did not know what exactly I wanted to express. I was not well-practiced. I had a glass of wine and got to work. I could not follow the instructions laid out by the teacher, and I could not avoid the instructions which conditioned my own ability. I wanted to paint something wild.

Do not think for a moment that I thought this painting was good. It is not even bad art, if bad art is the failed expression of desire. This is a failed expression of the desire for expression. Maybe that’s the same thing, but it feels worse. I am telling you that I wanted this to be interesting, and I know that it is not. I made up a fun story about how it represented something about God and creation and birth and excrement, put the two canvases together and called it a diptych. That evil-looking lamb? Started out its life as a giraffe provided by the instructor as a model, a model that I ignored as soon as I could. The instructor couldn’t help but laugh. How are you so bad at this? Can’t you just follow instructions? Can’t you make a single brushstroke without worrying about where it will end, at the obvious cost of what it could mean? Why do you love symmetry, and being boring? I did not know whether I loved those things, but this night was also not about me or what I did or didn’t love. I grew up in a low church tradition. We didn’t need creeds or instruction, we had ourselves and the Holy Spirit, which promised to be enough to keep things interesting, except when it wasn’t, when we fell into patterns of saying the same things in the same ways until nothing meant anything anymore, in which all possibilities continued to exist while we learned to close ourselves off from them. Conceiving ourselves seemed a mistake when God himself was already inside us. It wasn’t about us, till it was only about us. The second story is more uncomfortable. In my 4th decade I started to notice irregularities in my urination patterns. I never thought about normal bodily functions as being under control until I lost it. The stuff would not come out when I wanted it to and it would dribble out sometimes when I did not, like maybe it would if I had given birth. This year I started paying attention to my body and my feelings. I realized the extent of my anxiety. I would create running lists of tasks in my head and offer myself the promise of relief when they were done. I have to pee, sure, so let me just finish these dishes and maybe clean that counter and go add this citation. I'm not saying I got a lot done - I didn't. What I did do was raise the stress in my body to levels I hadn't previously experienced. I was talking to my therapist about something else and then it struck me: when I need to pee, I should do that. Delayed gratification is not always gratification at all, it can be torture, and torture can neither satisfy nor produce insight, despite the CIA's best arguments. I started to remember what had happened when I started living with someone. I remembered the idea of peeing by myself when I was supposed to, and not thinking about it the rest of the time. I remember feeling like being with someone else was all my boundaries being broken, the bathroom door never able to be shut, interruption, confusion, panic. How self-denial was the only power I felt I had left, a power I wielded against myself among others. I was embarrassed, but there seemed no other way to continue. I said I cannot talk about my mother without talking about the people she loves, and she would probably hate it if I could. But here is one more story. This is also about her. She always wanted to make sure we had enough. I visited her home recently and she pointed out two excesses. She had bought a television, no doubt after painstaking research, and it was big. Most of my time with her we did not have cable, so any new technology would be excessive, and this was. She seemed embarrassed, like she wanted me to assure her that it was the right purchase. But I don't live there anymore, and I don’t know anything about televisions. She commented on how big it was. I said yes, it kind of is, but that's okay. It's nice. It's a bit decadent, she said, and I said sure, okay, but it’s fine. She seemed offended that I would call it decadent. Of course, that wasn't my term. Neither was it really hers. I wanted only to acknowledge and affirm the way she was feeling about the television, which was really a fine purchase. The same day, she ordered chicken tenders for the family, from a place we all love. She asked me how much I wanted her to get, but I couldn’t say because I have no idea how much a family should eat. In my view, if you have the money and don't think it will go to waste, a little extra is okay. She bought a lot extra. It was great. We all ate, with leftovers for days. My brother and I couldn't help commenting and laughing, however, about just how much chicken we had. Ten pounds! It was great, no one had to feel bad about taking everything they needed. It was also funny. My mother has always been frugal and resourceful. Our family shopping trips as a child involved a cooler with sippy cups of milk that we would bring into Burger King to pair with value menu sandwiches. It was her way of trying to make sure our lives were special. It is also, then and in retrospect, funny. Even more so when this same mother 25 years later brings home enough chicken for the whole neighborhood. I felt bad for laughing, because I knew it made her feel bad, like she had done something wrong. She hadn’t, at least not in the way she thought. She bought too much chicken. We all liked it, but I don't know that she was convinced. This week a friend pointed out to me that when I make chicken specifically, I always make an absurd amount. I love eating chicken, though I know I shouldn’t. The greatest joy I have experienced in life is watching both myself and people I love come to express what we think and feel. A mother's joy seems one sided, a tragic choice to abandon expression altogether, or to only express what needs no expression. I found all my interests in my mother’s life: death, desire, labor, race, ideology, power, time. These are not concepts which to my knowledge she spends very much time thinking about. She only wants to want what God wants, and much more importantly, perhaps even exclusively, just to do what he wants. I could write about fathers easily because I am always thinking about them. It’s harder to write about the content of your life amidst its domination by forms. This feels less clear and more important. That’s probably natural for an essay about everything and its emptiness; it’s about my mother. My father would not be anxious regarding what I might say about him. My mother would be, which is why she doesn’t know I am writing this. It’s not that she is particularly vain or pretentious. She just cares, and doesn’t always know why or how. I get that from her too. (What helped me write this: Gillian Rose Andrea Long Chu and Darren Aronofsky, working at a marketing firm, of course the person whose name I can’t remember who correctly told me that I was not in that moment a good painter)

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thelifestyleeditor · 7 years ago

Photo

I HEART WORK

Who are you: Luisa Brimble

What is your work: Photographer

Where can we find you? Website | Twitter | Instagram

Describe your work in 5 words? I’m a lifestyle and food photographer - that’s more than five words!

Can you tell us a little about what you do? I photograph food and lifestyle stories - my favourite subject to shoot is food in context, and product in a lifestyle context.

What took you on the road to being a photographer? I picked up my first DSLR which is the Canon 400D and just started taking photos. Then when family and friends started saying I could do it for money, I started to take it seriously and taught myself how to shoot manual, bought a load of books, and watched a lot of tutorials. I only attended one photography workshop and it was with one of my favourite photographers – Jonathan Canlas, a film photographer.

Where is your office/studio and what is the view out of your window? I work from home and it’s pretty uninspiring view of the neighbour’s house!

What is the first thing you do when you get to work? Meet the team, talk to the client whilst I’m unpacking and setting up, and work out what the strategy is for the shoot.

Describe a typical day at work? If it’s a shoot day, then I wake up early, get my girls ready for school, drop them at school, drive to where I need to be for the photoshoot, photograph the whole day and in the afternoon pick up my girls at school, go home, upload photos, edit and deliver to client, BOOMPOW done! Then the rest of the time frees up to study, analyse and scheme-up the next story I’m shooting with Sarah Glover - a week doesn’t go by without photographing.

What cameras do you like to use? A Canon 5D mk3, and 50mm 1.2 lens – my go-to-lens, and never leaves my camera, I’d say 94% of the time.

What can’t you work without? My family’s support. Without it I don’t think I’ll have the luxury to be doing what I’m doing now.

Why do you love what you do? Passion fuels what I love to do! Because if I believe in a project but there’s no money to it, I will still photograph it. I believe that if it’s beautiful and different enough, chances are I’d be lining up to shoot it.

One shoot you won’t forget and why? Not just one shoot it is all of WILD Adventure Cookbook with Sarah Glover. Every scene created and photographed was full of life, new experience and it gave us the burst of energy to keep on going. It was like we were so inspired by the last shoot that we just kept going for 2 years. None of the recipes from the book was photographed indoors. It was all outdoors.

Who or what inspires you? Right now it’s all about Dynamic Symmetry and I’m seeing works of art in a different way. In a way that gave meaning to how I felt when I first laid eyes on a painting or a photo. It gave me the answer to the why. Right now the work of Henri Cartier-Bresson and Vivian Maier is really inspiring me to keep on studying and analysing art and photography.

What is the best advice you have received? One is better than nothing.

One moment in your career you will always remember? When WILD cookbook got funded via Kickstarter.

What is the best part of your job? I get to photograph what I’m passionate about, and because of this it gives me the opportunity to see parts of the world I thought I’d never see or experience.

And the worst? The selling unfortunately...I still have to work at finding work.

Which phrase do you overuse? ‘FREAKKIN BOOMPOW’! Because when I talk about something that’s passionate, I will give it to you with gusto!

What have you learned the hard way? Not knowing about Dynamic Symmetry. That I spent nine years photographing based on my feelings, and I never knew how to analyse or study works of art. It was frustrating. It was a question hanging around waiting to be answered. It was answered about a month ago now, when I was just watching YouTube videos and I came across Myron Barnstone’s film about ‘What is Dynamic Symmetry’, and it clicked! Since then I’ve been sharing my learnings via Instagram Stories. I share my analysis of works. It disappears in 24 hours. You have to be quick and you have to be paying attention. People who pay attention are the ones who get rewarded!

If you could do another job what would you like to do and why? I would probably go back to doing Graphic Design. I used to work in Marketing, creating all the collaterals, flyers and advertising in-house for a travel company. I did that for 10 years and I really did enjoy it. I would probably do something along these lines of multimedia.

What advice would you give to someone wanting to be a photographer? There are three stages in your photographic adventure:

1) You will spend your time learning how to press the buttons on your camera. Learn where to change your aperture, ISO, your shutter speed and your metering. It took me maybe two-three years to be better at this, and then it became second nature to me.

2) You will then be rewarded with being able to be creative in what you do. You can start to emulate the works of the photographers who inspire you. I’d say give yourself another three years to get better at this.

3) You discover that there is such a thing as Dynamic Symmetry and you spend your time studying it and analysing people’s work etc. Give yourself seven years to put this in practice.

4) BOOMPOW! If you actually practice and shoot on a daily basis say two hours a day, in 13 years time you have reached your 10,000 hours in becoming a master in what you do! You have to be in this for a long run!

Photography is not about just photographing pretty pictures and all you do is press the shutter. It’s all about designing your frame. Slow down before you press that shutter. Don’t just look at your subject, look at the background and what elements of design can you incorporate to make that image have the order, unity, harmony, movement and rhythm. Shoot, shoot, shoot and shoot and study, study, study, study!

Can you tell us about your new book WILD with Sarah Glover? WILD Adventure Cookbook is the collaborative cookbook project that I worked on with Sarah Glover. It was shot over two years at 17 locations along Australia’s East coast. This cookbook pushes boundaries wherever it finds them and it’s taking outdoor cooking to the next level. WILD is about breaking rules and challenging conventions. I believe that magic happens when food is photographed unadorned and uninterrupted. It may have taken us two years to photograph this book, but we would not have done it any other way. The desire to be different, to go against the grain, to push boundaries, create new work, instead of replicating what’s out there, is what connected Sarah and I to create this cookbook. This book is photographed ‘documentary style’ – out in the wild, completely free of studio and conventional kitchen. I was there every step of the way, capturing the moment; the ingredients, the processes, the locations, the people, the drama and the absolute magic that occurs when these elements all come together. I feel that photographing food in context gives it soul, which gives this project its point of difference. In a perfect world, I hope to photograph all future cookbooks in this style.

Can you tell us about any other projects you have in the pipeline? Currently WILD #2 is in motion, and we already have plans to travel throughout the year and at the same time going on roadshows to promote WILD #1. It really just depends on what opportunities come out of this, we just don’t know, but we have to keep going on the project because WILD #2 is beginning to show some ‘legs’, it’s in motion!

Do you have any favourite websites/Instagrams you can share? There are only two websites I will recommend for keen foodies who want to learn more about the in’s and out’s of food, and more importantly learn about history. The first one is Art of Eating, and the second one is Ideas in Food. Food blogs these days all become about a form of self expression, pretty pictures which are highly styled - it is now all about the styling and not about the food anymore, it’s all about yummy, beautiful, amazing, incredible blah blah blah… I feel that people are going to be wanting more. The blogs who will stay are the ones that give value and educate people.

How do you spend your downtime? My downtime is spent studying, improving my muscle memory so that I can practice learning about the elements of design. I spend it reading and analysing. Listening to podcasts and getting all psyched up! Or if I get sick of doing this I’d probably be cooking!

Can you give us a great tip on how to take better photographs? Yes, Google Dynamic Symmetry. Start with Myron Barnstone. Start watching his YouTube films.

What would you like to be doing in five years time? I’d like to be creating stories and getting paid for it so that my husband can be a stay-at-home Father for once, after all the support he has given to me. I’d like to be owning a house close to the beach and close to where Sarah lives, so that it’s easier for us to just keep producing stories to our hearts content, and get paid for it!

If you had an extra hour each day what would you do with it? You’d still find me studying and analysing work and scheming up stories to photograph!

What’s your personal motto? Nothing that you do in this life is ever a waste. What you give out comes back to you dollar-by-dollar. Nothing in this life ever happened without the hard work. Never ever hide your enthusiasm!

How would you like to be remembered? I’d like to be remembered as someone who gives value and is full of life. A life cheerleader, poms poms and all! BOOMPOW! Fist pump, over and out!

Thank you Luisa for talking to The Lifestyle Editor.

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life-love-and-alcohol · 8 years ago

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Heyy I have a request: ok so I have this idea that Chris, Phichit, Yuuri and Viktor go to a Karaoke and they make teams, so Viktor and Chris choose songs for Yuuri and Phichit and like they choose BTS for Y and P and they act like they don't know the songs like "so just because I'm Japanese you think I would know kpop?" And when the lyrics start they both know the whole choreography and song, and V&C just stay like SHOOK jajaja idk something like that Btw I love how you write 😍

aaaa, I call this piece: “How to lose your every follower” by Sofía. Seriously, this is pure crack I’m so sorry. I’m not familiar with k-pop so I had to look up and it was quite a journey XD Anyways….I hope you at least laugh, this is so stupid hahah

Viktor knew there were many things alcohol could do.

Believe him, he had his sources.

He knew, from some vague chemistry lesson at the back of hismind (and that time he accidentally burnt the cabinet), that alcohol was highlyinflammable.

He knew, because of that really cool movie with the injuredsoldier, that it could be used as disinfectant (even though it burnt like abitch on raw flesh).

He knew, despite the fact the labels didn’t warn about it,that it could cause quite fervent phone calls to ex-lovers at three fifteen inthe morning.

And he knew, out from mere experience, that seven shots ofvodka were enough for Yuuri to start stripping.

He wasn’t surprised, honestly, just highly amused, wheneverthe euphoria kicked in and his fiancé started losing garments. It was theobvious, the finale everyone was waiting for, the happy ever after at the endof each fairy tale.

So that night, after he had gulped down his seventh mouthfulof the evening, not only Viktor but also Chris and Phichit knew what wascoming. In fact, anyone who had ever met Yuuri totally would have known whatwas coming. His family, any other skater, that waiter at the restaurant inMoscow that had had to personally detach him from the chandelier once….literallyanyone could have predicted the outcome.

They had just had a competition in Tokyo, and goodperformances always brought the good need to celebrate. The group of four hadspent quite a long while at a bar, emptying their glasses and their wallets to commemoratetheir places at the podium and a close fourth, cheeks pink and endorphins highas they cheered and raised their cups. It wasn’t like Yuuri was the only onedrinking, no way, Viktor and Chris had had their fair amount too, but theyweren’t as light-weighted, and they had a better tolerance.

By the time they left the bar, Chris was practicing his freeprogram in the middle of the street and the lovebirds were all over each othermaking out against any wall they could lean onto. So Phichit, who was the onlyone walking straight, took it upon himself to guide them towards the only neon signthat was big enough for his tired eyes to see, which ended up being a karaokeplace.

Now, one would probably think that as soon as the employeessaw a twerking man, a couple touching each other asses (one of them half naked), and a boy that couldn’t even point at his own face to take a selfie, theywouldn’t let them in. But apparently they recognized them from the competition,and not only gave them a room, but also asked for their wobbly autographs.

Everything was going perfectly: Yuuri and Viktor could taketheir business to a comfier sofa, Phichit found Wi-Fi to update his Instagram,and Chris could break out his portable pole to make the singing even moreintense….but the problem came when it was the time to choose the songs.

Of course there was the full soundtrack of The King and theSkater. And of course Viktor and Yuuri had to sing the Titanic theme, withdrama and tears involved, as they held each other at the edge of the table. And don’t even get me started on the prettymuch not safe for work Giacometti cover of “Toxic”. But those totally self-indulgent performancesweren’t the problem. Not at all.

The conflict started when they had to choose songs for eachother.

“Ok, so…” Yuuri hiccupped, one arm around his Viktor and theother around the bottle of vodka (his lovely two V) “I sing with the hottie,you two sing together”

He spit the words rather than saying them, mouth numbed andvoice groggy, pointing at his friends with the bottle.

“Nu-uh!” Phichit shook his head “You two sang together already!I want to sing with my best bro!”

“Awww!” Yuuri threw himself from his fiancé into Phichit’sarms, who caught him delightedly, laughing at the drunken tangle of limbsaround him “Of course we gon’ sing together! We gon’ sing way many better thanthem!”

“Yuuri oh my god, your English” His friend laughed, tryingto hold him to stand still “But I think what you meant is pretty clear: we cantotally kick their asses”

“Oh?” Viktor raised a brow, resting his elbow on Christophe’sshoulder “Are you challenging us?”

“Fuck yes we are” Phichit had to untie a half-naked Yuurifrom his own body before he gave him an awkward boner “What do you say, buddy?Ready to prove your fiancé who has the pants in the relationship??”

“Well, literally speaking, not him” Christophe chuckled,pointing at the exposed blue briefs.

“You know what I mean…come on! Choose a song! Whatever it iswe’ll sing it!”

“Yeah!! Put da’ song!” Yuurikicked the table to emphasize.

They both looked away from thescreen, hearing the muffled whispers of their rivals as they decided theirfate, and warming up their throats as much as they could without throwing up.They were ready, whatever the song was, they would turn around and put on thebest show those two had seen in their entire lives.

However, as the music startedplaying, the only show they put up was one of utter disappointment.

“Uhm, excuse me??” Phichitsnorted, crossing his arms “Is this K-pop??”

The speakers were screaming atthe beat of Not Today by BTS.

“You racist shits!” Yuuri gasped,terribly offended, poking Viktor’s chest with much more force than intended “Isthis because we are Asian??? I’m divorcing you!”

“Are you going to tell us you don’tknow the song?”

Yuuri and Phichit exchanged a culprit look, flashbacks ofboth of them singing that track at the top of their lungs during their free nightsin Detroit flooding their minds and tugging a complicit smirk on their tipsy lips.They both agreed they didn’t need to answer that question with words…when theycould just show them.

Grabbing a microphone, Yuuri tore open the last few buttonsof his shirt that were still on and started dancing with the confidence onlypractice and alcohol could provide. Phichit didn’t stay behind, not having todig that deep into his memories to recall the dance moves, and pushing the two dumbstruckwitnesses onto the sofa with a wink. In no second, they were both singingridiculously fluent Korean, swinging their hips, completely giving their backto the lyrics on the screen. They didn’t need them, anyways.

They not only knew the song. They knew the words by heart,and the entire choreography as well.

Viktor and Christophe stared, jaws dropped, until Yuuribothered to lean over and close both of their agape mouths for neither fliesnor complaints to get in. Their voices weren’t flawless, respectable for tworandom drunkards, but shaded by their impossible drive, the energy of theirdancing, and the symmetry in their movements. Christophe didn’t know when wasthe last time he had found a decent rival for his mature eros, but he certainlywasn’t expecting to find some to the tune of K-pop.

What started out as a perfect recreation of the actual choreography,ended up distorting into a much heated up version of the sequence. And beforethe spectators could get mentally ready or pray a rosary, they both got ontothe table with a jump. The song was fierce and potent, way more than they hadimagined, and way more they ever thought those two could dance. But,apparently, they could transfer the stamina they used on the ice onto thewooden table of a karaoke room.

And Phichit decided to try out the pole dance because whythe fuck not.

To say things had turned wild and penises kind of hard, wasan understandment.

But nothing could have prepared Viktor for Yuuri sliding outfrom the table with clumsy charm, and transporting the dance moves right ontohis lap.

He stuck his knees inthe seat, one at each side of the man’s legs, letting his hips continue theirsway in rhythm with the music as he watched the world burning in the other’sbugged out eyes. He stared thoroughly, purposely, hypnotizing his victimtowards his inevitable, hungry doom.

As soon as the music stopped though, with Phichit pantingheavily and letting out a brutal shout of victory for the whole place toacknowledge, all Viktor wanted was to grab his fiancé and make him take responsibilityfor the boner in the nearest toilet stall. However, Yuuri wasn’t having it.Hips still jerking and mouth dripping, he clang onto his shoulders andwhispered a slutty “not today” beforehe passed out on his lap

And that’s the night Viktor learnt not to underestimate theeffects of alcohol EVER again.

Why haven’t they kicked me out the fandom yet?

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junker-town · 6 years ago

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The case for James Harden as NBA MVP

But don’t forget about Paul George and Giannis Antetokounmpo.

The Most Valuable Player award is an argument between a hundred people who love to argue. Many of the arguments have merit, the occasional one does not, but I take it at face value that everyone argues in good faith when they cast their ballot.

When I was young and foolish, and before I had a vote, I used to think that choosing the MVP would be an easy choice. Just pick the best player regardless of exterior circumstances. Simple. As the game has evolved, and my understanding of it grown, I now realize that winning is a lot harder than it looks, and in some years it’s not a simple choice at all.

Rarely is there one unified argument about that year’s MVP and those races tend to be over by March. It’s now March and the MVP race is still simmering. There are three main contenders: Giannis Antetokounmpo, James Harden, and Paul George. There are many, many other players worthy of consideration, but that’s the top three by general consensus.

When choosing an MVP in a crowded field like this, context matters more than ever and even that can be a subjective exercise. Narrative is a loaded word, but we all construct stories of what we’re watching, whether it’s with numbers, observation, emotion, or elements of all three.

The stories we tell inform our choices and in some cases confirm our biases. That’s neither good nor bad, it’s just the nature of the award. It’s also what makes this an interesting exercise.

In the broadest terms, my criteria includes weighing individual achievement along with team success. When all else fails I fall back on the player who defined the season, an admittedly sketchy position. That led me to choose Russell Westbrook over James Harden two years ago. I have no regrets.

When I voted for Harden last season, it was a far easier case to make. He was the best player in the league by most objective measures leading the best team. To choose Harden again this season would require using the same subjective reasoning that elevated Russ over him two years ago. Life is funny.

Harden is having an even better campaign this his MVP season and he’s taken over the league with his combination of skill and intelligence producing overwhelming numbers. By perfecting the art of shooting 3’s off the dribble with a series of step-backs and side-steps that are virtually unguardable, Harden has become the most unstoppable offensive force in the game.

“It just gives me more opportunity and more space to get my shot off,” Harden said of his shotmaking repertoire following a 42-point performance in Boston. “As defenders if you try to close the gap I’m able to get by you, so you’ve got to pick and choose.”

The problem, of course, is there is no right choice. Play up on him and he’ll drive to the basket where he can finish or find teammates for dunks and open shots. Lay back and he’ll take the three right in your face. Get caught in the middle and Harden is a magnet for foul calls.

Harden’s stat lines offer a study in beautiful symmetry, none better than his 58-point outburst against the Heat in late February when he went 8-for-16 from two, 8-for-18 from three, and 18-for-18 from the free throw line. Harden has a 61-point game, five in the 50s, and 18 more in the 40’s. He’s not just an offense unto himself, he’s the whole freaking universe.

Top 5 in possessions used in isolation this season... 5. Giannis Antetokounmpo (226) 4. Kevin Durant (252) 3. Russell Westbrook (258) 2. DeMar DeRozan (260) 1. James Harden (1,015) ONE THOUSAND FIFTEEN

— Andy Bailey (@AndrewDBailey) March 8, 2019

What’s remarkable is that he hasn’t slowed down. Pick a stretch, any stretch, and you can find examples of Harden’s dominance. He was named Western Conference Player of the Month by the NBA in both December and January. He’s been just as productive in February and March, all the while carrying an absurdly heavy load.

“It’s special,” Rockets coach Mike D’Antoni said. “I don’t know if there’s enough words. He is born to play, he loves to play. I can’t take him out of practice. You can’t keep him off the floor. That’s special in itself, knowing that 75-80 games a year he’s going to play for you and play at a high level.”

Because he plays so much in isolation, there’s a question of aesthetics with Harden. Those who identify with the struggle of the individual revel in his exploits, while those who prefer an egalitarian style of ball prefer the more balanced approach of Antetokounmpo’s Bucks.

My personal taste runs toward the latter, but both players are doing what’s been asked by their respective systems. Harden’s ball-dominant game isn’t selfish so much as it’s necessary. That’s an important distinction.

“He works with what what we want to do,” D’Antoni said. “That’s shoot 3’s, layups, and fouls. With what I like to do, it’s a perfect match.”

The Rockets have needed every bit of Harden’s determined brilliance this season. After a dreadful start that had many wondering if they would actually miss the playoffs entirely, Harden led a Rockets team that was besieged by injuries out of the wilderness back into contention for top-3 seed in the loaded Western Conference.

While he won’t make any All-Defensive teams, Harden’s work on that end of the floor has also been sturdier than in the past. D’Antoni pointed to Harden’s post defense as a particularly valuable component of Houston’s half-court defense, with its emphasis on switching.

Still, for Harden to overtake Antetokounmpo, as well as George, you’d have to argue that his offensive production is simply too great to ignore. Ultimately, his case comes back the idea that Harden’s play has defined the season, which it has. With its emphasis on offensive firepower fueled by efficient production, no one plays the modern game better than Harden.

Is that enough?

The best player on the best team designation now belongs to Antetokounmpo. His Bucks are in first place, his numbers are historic, and he’s played at a consistent level of excellence all season. Giannis gets bonus points for being an absolute terror on both ends of the floor.

PG’s argument takes a little longer to connect. He’s also having a brilliant offensive season, and he might be better defensively than Giannis. But while his Thunder are having a strong season, they haven’t risen to the same heights at Antetokounmpo’s Bucks. A side-by side comparison is close, but also tends to favor Giannis.

The wild card in the equation is Harden. While we still have a month left to play, and no decision has been made, my feeling is that the MVP is still Antetokounmpo’s to lose more than it’s Harden’s to win. Either way, it makes for a hell of an argument.

Say What?!?

Quotes of note from around the league

“If you don’t know who he is, then you’re probably not very good.”

Blazers guard Seth Curry on Dallas assistant God Shammgod.

Reaction: If you are old like me, you remember Shammgod as the ballhandling wizard of the Providence College Friars who reached the final eight of the 1997 NCAA Tournament as a 10-seed. (Shoutout to Bojan Bogdanovic doppelganger Austin Croshere.) If you are young like Curry, you know Shammgod from his signature move, appropriately referred to as the Shammgod. Take time to read the wonderful piece from Michael Pina on how Shammgod is influencing the next generation of playmakers, and why it’s so important.

“Of all the stuff I’ve done in my career, this ranks right up there at the top with winning a championship. For a kid from Akron, Ohio, that needed inspiration and needed some type of positive influence, MJ was that guy for me. I watched him from afar, wanted to be like MJ, wanted to shoot fadeaways like MJ, wanted to stick my tongue out on dunks like MJ, wanted to wear my sneakers like MJ. I wanted kids to look up to me at some point like MJ and it’s just crazy, to be honest. It’s beyond crazy.”

LeBron James after passing Michael Jordan on the scoring list.

Reaction: This was a genuinely cool quote on what should have been a historic evening that turned into yet another Laker melodrama. LeBron is the ultimate thinkpiece, but something is wrong if we can’t simply appreciate a historic milestone.

“I thought we moved off joy. Now anger? I disagree with that one.”

Golden State forward Kevin Durant after Steve Kerr said his team needed to play with more anger.

Reaction: Is this another sign that the Warrior dynasty is about to break up, or just a frustrated player in March after a humiliating loss? Everyone quickly to the content generation machines before the narrative changes next week.

“When I meet with them, what surprises me is that they’re truly unhappy. A lot of these young men are generally unhappy.’’

NBA commissioner Adam Silver speaking to Bill Simmons on a panel at the Sloan conference.

Reaction: Silver was speaking broadly of player’s feeling of isolation and loneliness. I won’t presume to speak for the players, but I have discussed with many people around the league a heightened feeling of tension this season. It’s not just players but coaches, front office members, and yes, media too. As someone who deals with mental health issues, and had anxiety-related attacks just this week, I don’t pretend to know all the answers. But I know we need to be talking about this, and by we I mean everyone invested in the league, because it’s not just a generational issue.

The List

Consumable NBA thoughts

We’re finally in the stretch run of the season and the days are still long and cold. The snow isn’t going anywhere, and the games blend into one endless series of pick-and-rolls. To break out of this rut, let’s spread some joy. Here are five things I’ve appreciated this season.

The spirit of the Brooklyn Nets

You think you’ve got it tough? Try being a Net the last few years without the talent to win or the organizational incentive to lose. Under Kenny Atkinson, the Nets distinguished themselves with a hard-nosed attitude in the face of all that adversity. That’s paid off this season as players, many of whom were reclamation projects, have grown into their roles. No one embodies that more than D’Angelo Russell who blossomed into an All-Star. The Nets may not stick around the postseason long, but their run to respectability has been inspiring.

The Hawks young core

The Hawks weren’t on my radar screen when the season began. It’s one thing to be young, quite another to be young and bad, and this looked like the very early stages of a long-term rebuilding project. Then I was taken with the legend of John Collins and became enamored with Kevin Huerter. The rookie from Maryland may look like his parents dropped him off at the wrong gym, but the kid can play. Throw in Trae Young’s in-season turnaround and the Hawks provide nightly thrills.

Paul George’s career season

Even for an unabashed PG supporter, this season has been a revelation. The talent was always there, but George has put together a season for the ages. He’s a strong contender for Defensive Player of the Year and a legitimate MVP candidate in a three-player race. In any other year, he’d likely be the frontrunner. What’s made his ascent all the more enjoyable has been a renewed appreciation for Russell Westbrook’s leadership abilities. It will be interesting to see where OKC stands after all the free agents wind settle this summer. If the Warriors do break up, it could open a 2-3 year championship window.

Nate McMillan’s stoicism

It wasn’t so long ago when Nate McMillan was a coaching star. His move from Seattle to Portland held the promise of future championships before injuries and bad luck doomed the Blazers to also-ran status. There were whispers the game had passed him by, but if anyone knows how to handle injury adversity, it’s the guy who coached Greg Oden and Brandon Roy. Watching McMillan’s Pacers remain in the thick of the Eastern Conference race without Victor Oladipo is a testament to the respect the coach has from his players. His team is smart, disciplined, and plays together. That’s what it’s all about, really.

Donovan Mitchell’s comeback

When Mitchell was the breakout star of his rookie class, expectations rose to an enormous degree. When he struggled early in his second season, his game was thoroughly eviscerated. We’re all guilty of judging young players too harshly and much too quickly, but the backlash bordered on ridiculous. Mitchell found his groove around the turn of the new year and is once again performing like a franchise cornerstone for the Jazz. It certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s a genuinely good dude.

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tsgneworleanslouisiana · 8 years ago

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Fly GLO to Arkansas: The Scouted Itinerary

GLO Airlines was started by a friend of mine, Trey Fayard, whose lifelong dream has been to connect regional destinations with direct flights, bringing businesses and tourists together quicker.

Since its launched in 2015, I’ve been waiting to fly GLO. This April, I finally made the trip and selected Little Rock as my destination. Why Little Rock? Its one of the five destinations this regional airline travels, this city is a member of The Scout Guide network, and is close enough distance to the new Crystal Bridges Museum in Bentonville, AR that I’ve heard so many people talk about. By the time I planned and executed the trip, The Scout Guide launched a Northwest Arkansas Guide, meaning more carefully selected boutiques, restaurants, hotels, and museums to enjoy!

Early April, my mom, godmother and I set out to scout the best of local using The Scout Guide as our guide and GLO, a member of The Scout Guide New Orleans, as our mode of transportation. And I must admit, without GLO, Arkansas wouldn’t have been at the top of my getaway list. But, GLO makes it easy by cutting the nine-hour drive into a one-and-a-half-hour flight, making it an easy choice.

Flying GLO felt like the perfect mix of commercial convenience without any of the aggravation or stress. Here’s what you can expect when you board a GLO Airlines flight:

This is a commercial airline, with a personal touch. That means you fly right out of Louis Armstrong, but you don’t have long, chaotic lines at your gate. Plus, most of the people flying and working on your plane call our region home so there’s a neighborly vibe.

There’s no middle seat, and tons of legroom in the back of the plane. When you’re booking your flights, you don’t have to worry about getting stuck in the middle. Look for seats toward the back where you’ll have a bit more room to spread out.

You get two free checked bags and two free carry-ons! This comes in very handy for those of us who enjoy shopping tours on our getaways.

The commissary program supports small local and family owned businesses. Currently, passengers receive Louisiana-made Zapp’s potato chips, Hubb’s peanuts and PJ’s coffee for an in-flight snack, no matter how short the flight.

The flight attendants wear uniforms that are locally designed and made by NOLA-based studio The Wild Life Reserve.

You get the best in-flight reading, of course! Passengers will find a copy of The Scout Guide in their seat pockets. All you need to scout your destination can be found in those pages.

What I love most about flying GLO is that it makes completely unique regions feel that much closer…making it all the more easier to scout the best of local!

City Guide to the Best of Local: Arkansas

Prior to launching The Scout Guide New Orleans, my hobby was scouting. I have always loved discovering new places and the hidden gems that make them unique. I would always reach out to a friend via phone or email for insider suggestions. When The Scout Guide was created, my life became a lot easier. The trusted recommendations of a local could be found in a beautiful city guide…and as the platform evolved, I found the real scoop online.

Lucky for me, I now have a friend in over 60 cities. Anna Serpente, Editor of TSG Little Rock and Rebekah Lawrence, editor of TSG NW Arkansas are just two of them, so planning a trip to Arkansas was easy. You too can benefit from their inside scoop by following their local blogs and checking them out on Instagram (@tsglittlerock | @tsgnwarkansas).

Where to Stay

To start, the two girls helped me secure hotel reservations at their Scout Guide preferred hotels: The Capital and 21c Museum Hotel respectively.

THE CAPITAL IN LITTLE ROCK

While these hotels are completely different in style, what they share in common is the experience. The Capital has an old world style. It is called “The Front Porch of Arkansas” because it truly feels like you’re coming home to a dear friend’s house. In true Southern fashion, rooms are complete with amenities like sparkling water, toffee and spiced pecans. Anna tipped me off to the insider secret: “The Adult Turndown.” Order one before departing for dinner and when you return, you’ll find an Irish coffee and other surprises waiting for you. On my pillow was a typed note written personally to me. It was just one of the many letters I received during my short stay that really made me feel like a valued guest.

21c MUSEUM HOTEL BENTONVILLE

We left the Capital and drove three hours west to the 21c Museum Hotel in Bentonville, a modern day space filled with loads of contemporary art … and green penguins. Penguins are the signature mascot of 21c, and they’re also a form of interactive art. Life-sized green (plastic) penguins are always popping up where you least expect them. For me, it was the elevator when I was on my way to hotel restaurant The Hive. For my mom, it was on top of the toilet seat when we returned from dinner. Penguins don’t move themselves, guest do. It optimizes the fun!

Where to Eat and Shop

So now, where to eat and what to do! Its all right here in these two guides: The Scout Guide Little Rock and The Scout Guide Northwest Arkansas.

LITTLE ROCK

In Little Rock, you’ll want to eat a meal at Samantha’s Tap Room. Order the Parmesan Salsa. It’s to die for. Tulips is full of absolutely adorable clothes, jewelry and amazing prices. Box Turtle is another great shop filled with two stories of gifts and clothes. And, what isn’t in The Scout Guide but should be: The Purse Museum and Fresh ID. We missed a ton so before your trip, be sure to order a copy of the Guide online!

BENTONVILLE

In Bentonville, we dined at The Hive, a James Beard nominated restaurant. Rebekah introduced us to the keeper of the town: Debbie Matteri and the owner of In Season, a darling boutique across the street from the hotel. We walked less than a block to the adorable town square and visited the original Sam Walton Five and Dime store and the Wal-Mart Museum. Afterwards we enjoyed a homemade sparking soda at the soda fountain! We turned the corner and hit a few more local boutiques that were soon to make their debut in TSG Northwest Arkansas. I will tell you, even me, a devoted supporter of local businesses, now has a new appreciation for big box after hearing Sam Walton’s story.

What to See

I originally learned of Crystal Bridges through the New Orleans Museum of Art Contemporary Curator, Katie Pfhol. At a NOMA Young Fellows Cocktail Party, I asked her to tell me her favorite Museum in the country (other than NOMA, of course!). Expecting her to say something like the Art Institute in Chicago and the Getty in LA, I was taken aback when the first one she named was in Arkansas. What could be the attraction? Well, naturally I set out to figure it out and boy was I blown away.

No doubt the best part about the visit was the visit to Crystal Bridges! When I learned that you could bike ride from 21c to the Museum, I knew it was going to be a hit. We rode our bikes right from our hotel through a trail system to the museum’s grounds. Crystal Bridges is situated on more than a hundred acres of lush Ozark forest and offers miles of nature trails, dotted with unique sculpture gardens. As you explore the grounds you become fully aware of the museum’s aim: to tie nature, art and architecture together. Once you see the museum itself, the architecture part clicks. Designed by world-renowned architect Moshe Safdie, it looks just like it’s floating on water.

Diane Carroll, the Director of Communications, invited Rebekah and me for lunch in the Museum Café, and she gave us a brief overview of the Museum, and made sure we knew about the upcoming Chihuly exhibit this June. Next we visited Frank Lloyd Wright's Bachman -Wilson House on the museum grounds. The space’s symmetry and alignment really made an impression on me. And the home was meticulously maintained—even the sofa is pristine!

We meandered through the galleries spotting a few favorite pieces like: Rosie the Riveter (Norman Rockwell) and Dolly Parton (Andy Warhol), two of the most iconic pieces of modern American art in the collection. We also saw George Washington’s portrait, painted by Gilbert Stuart.

Just to visit Crystal Bridges and to experience the museum’s architecture in the middle of Arkansas’ natural bounty is a magical experience, and that’s not even counting the exhibits themselves. Now is the perfect time to book your tickets to Arkansas on GLO Airlines to visit this true Mecca. Starting on June 3 the museum will be the first ever to present Chihuly: In the Gallery and In the Forest, with indoor and outdoor exhibitions. Tickets are on sale now!

Between June 3rd – August 14th, 21c Bentonville will be offering a special hotel package for guests wanting to experience the Chihuly exhibition at Crystal Bridges while staying with 21c. The package will include 2 tickets to Chihuly: In the Gallery and In the Forest, $50 towards The Hive and $30 towards the 21c Museum Shop. Book your trip by clicking this link or calling the hotel and asking for the Chihuly package.

Return Trip The Brightest Way to Fly

Arkansas, when you are ready to fly South to New Orleans on GLO, I’ll be waiting for you. Reserve a room at The Terrell House Bed & Breakfast or the majestic Windsor Court, which is offering a special rate for those who mention The Scout Guide. If you’ve visited New Orleans a thousand times, plan to scout Louisiana’s Northshore, an hour from the city center, and overnight at the charming Southern Hotel in Downtown Covington.

Find everything you need to know for an insider’s trip to New Orleans in The Scout Guide New Orleans. Order your copy of this curated city guide or peruse it online. Follow me on Instagram, read my local blog and learn more about how to scout NOLA in TSG style.

TELL THEM SCOUT SENT YOU!

—TAYLOR

P.S. You can fly GLO to Memphis too and use The Scout Guide Memphis and Editor Muffy Turley as your Guide!

Photos of Taylor Morgan and Rebekah Lawrence by Meredith Mashburn

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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Beauty Quotes

Official Website: Beauty Quotes

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• A little beauty is preferable to much wealth. – Saadi • A lovely lady, garmented in light From her own beauty. – Percy Bysshe Shelley • A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. – John Keats • A thing of beauty is a joy forever. – John Keats • A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness. – John Keats • A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she wears. – Anne Roiphe • A woman’s beauty is one of her great missions. – Richard Le Gallienne • Accuracy is essential to beauty. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • All poetry and music, and art of every true sort, bears witness to man’s continual falling in love with beauty and his desperate attempt to induce beauty to live with him and enrich his common life. – John Bertram Phillips • Anything in any way beautiful derives its beauty from itself and asks nothing beyond itself. Praise is no part of it, for nothing is made worse or better by praise. – Marcus Aurelius • At some point in life, the world’s beauty becomes enough. – Toni Morrison

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Beauty', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_beauty').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_beauty img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Beauty always has something remote. – Elias Canetti • Beauty and folly are old companions. – Benjamin Franklin • Beauty and health are the chief sources of happiness. – Benjamin Disraeli • Beauty and sadness always go together. – George MacDonald • Beauty as we feel it is something indescribable; what it is or what it means can never be said. – George Santayana • Beauty awakens the soul to act. – Dante Alighieri • Beauty can inspire miracles. – Benjamin Disraeli • Beauty has no relation to price, rarity, or age. – John Cotton • Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them. – David Hume • Beauty is a delightful prejudice. – Theocritus • Beauty is a frail good. – Ovid • Beauty is a fruit which we look at without trying to seize it. – Simone Weil • Beauty is a precious trace that eternity causes to appear to us and that it takes away from us. A manifestation of eternity, and a sign of death as well. – Eugene Ionesco • Beauty is a radiance that originates from within and comes from inner security and strong character. – Jane Seymour • Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all. – W. Somerset Maugham • Beauty is at once the ultimate principle and the highest aim of art. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe • Beauty is everlasting And dust is for a time. – Marianne Moore • Beauty is excrescence, superabundance, random ebulience, and sheer delightful waste to be enjoyed in its own right. – Donald C. Peattie • Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.- Sophia Loren • Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder. – Kinky Friedman • Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.- Jim Henson • Beauty is in the heart of the beholder. – H. G. Wells • Beauty is less important than quality. – Eugene Ormandy • Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man. – Fyodor Dostoevsky • Beauty is no quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different beauty. – David Hume • Beauty is not caused. It is. – Emily Dickinson • Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart. – Khalil Gibran • Beauty is one of the rare things that do not lead to doubt of God. – Jean Anouilh • Beauty is only skin deep, and the world is full of thin skinned people. – Richard Armour • Beauty is only skin deep. If you go after someone just because she’s beautiful but don’t have anything to talk about, it’s going to get boring fast. You want to look beyond the surface and see if you can have fun or if you have anything in common with this person. – Amanda Peet • Beauty is our weapon against nature; by it we make objects, giving them limit, symmetry, proportion. Beauty halts and freezes the melting flux of nature. – Camille Paglia • Beauty is simply reality seen with the eyes of love – Rabindranath Tagore • Beauty is the gift of God – Aristotle • Beauty is the greatest seducer of man. – Paulo Coelho • Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. – Oscar Wilde • Beauty is the promise of happiness. – Edmund Burke • Beauty is the purgation of superfluities. – Michelangelo • Beauty is the virtue of the body as virtue is the beauty of the soul – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Beauty is the vocation bestowed on the artist by the Creator in the gift of artistic talent. – Pope John Paul II • Beauty is truth, truth beauty – John Keats • Beauty is truth’s smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror. – Rabindranath Tagore • Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time. – Albert Camus • Beauty is variable, ugliness is constant. – Douglas Horton • Beauty is whatever gives joy. – Edna St. Vincent Millay • Beauty is when you can appreciate yourself. When you love yourself, that’s when you’re most beautiful. – Zoe Kravitz • Beauty is worse than wine, it intoxicates both the holder and beholder. – Aldous Huxley • Beauty isn’t about having a pretty face it’s about having a pretty mind, a pretty heart, and a pretty soul. – Unknown • Beauty isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about celebrating your individuality. – Bobbi Brown • Beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone. – Redd Foxx • Beauty of form affects the mind, but then it must be understood that it is not the mere shell that we admire; we are attracted by the idea that this shell is only a beautiful case adjusted to the shape and value of a still more beautiful pearl within. The perfection of outward loveliness is the soul shining through its crystalline covering. – Jane Porter • Beauty only happens once. – Jacques Derrida

• Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. – John Milton • beauty, like truth, never is so glorious as when it goes the plainest. – A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. – Albert Einstein • Beauty, n: the power by which a woman charms a lover and terrifies a husband. – Ambrose Bierce • Beauty, the smile of God, Music, His voice. – Robert Underwood Johnson • Beauty? To me it is a word without sense because I do not know where its meaning comes from nor where it leads to. – Pablo Picasso • Beauty’s of a fading nature. Has a season and is gone! – Robert Burns • Because you and I have the power to impute beauty on anything under the sun. Because you become the labels you give yourself. If you declare you’re beautiful – not despite your imperfections, but because of them – then you are. – Bo Sanchez • Character contributes to beauty. It fortifies a woman as her youth fades. A mode of conduct, a standard of courage, discipline, fortitude, and integrity can do a great deal to make a woman beautiful. – Jacqueline Bisset • Cherish your visions. Cherish your ideals. Cherish the music that stirs in your heart, the beauty that forms in your mind, the loveliness that drapes your purest thoughts. For out of them will grow all delightful conditions, all heavenly environment, of these, if you but remain true to them, your world will at last be built. – James Allen • Dear God! how beauty varies in nature and art. In a woman the flesh must be like marble; in a statue the marble must be like flesh. – Victor Hugo • Does not beauty confer a benefit upon us, even by the simple fact of being beautiful? – Victor Hugo • Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them. – Marcus Aurelius • Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. – John Muir • Everything in the universe is a pitcher brimming with wisdom and beauty.- Rumi • Exuberance is beauty. – William Blake • For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it. – Ivan Panin • For me the greatest beauty always lies in the greatest clarity. – Gotthold Ephraim Lessing • For such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness and maybe The heart-revealing intimacy That chooses right, and never find a friend. – William Butler Yeats • Girls of all kinds can be beautiful – from the thin, plus-sized, short, very tall, ebony to porcelain-skinned; the quirky, clumsy, shy, outgoing and all in between. It’s not easy though because many people still put beauty into a confining, narrow box…Think outside of the box…Pledge that you will look in the mirror and find the unique beauty in you. – Tyra Banks • Good nature will always supply the absence of beauty; but beauty cannot supply the absence of good nature.- Joseph Addison • He was afflicted by the thought that where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which no doubt, was why so many people looked on it as immoral. – John Galsworthy • How goodness heightens beauty! – Milan Kundera I believe in manicures. I believe in overdressing. I believe in primping at leisure and wearing lipsitck. – Audrey Hepburn I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside. – Whitney Houston • I don’t like standard beauty – there is no beauty without strangeness. – Karl Lagerfeld • I gave my beauty and my youth to men. I am going to give my wisdom and experience to animals. – Brigitte Bardot • If eyes were made for seeing, then beauty is its own excuse for being. • If I hadn’t been told I was garbage, I wouldn’t have learned how to show people I’m talented. And if everyone had always laughed at my jokes, I wouldn’t have figured out how to be so funny. If they hadn’t told me I was ugly, I never would have searched for my beauty. And if they hadn’t tried to break me down, I wouldn’t know that I’m unbreakable. – Gabourey Sidibe • I’m tired of all this nonsense about beauty being skin deep. That’s deep enough. What do you want, an adorable pancreas? – Jean Kerr • In all things that live there are certain irregularities, and deficiencies which are not only signs of life, but sources of beauty. No human face is exactly the same in its lines on each side, no leaf perfect in its lobes, no branch in its symmetry. – John Ruskin • In every man’s heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty. – Christopher Morley • In the true mythology, Love is an immortal child, and Beauty leads him as a guide; nor can we express a deeper sense than when we say, Beauty is the pilot of the young soul. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • In youth and beauty, wisdom is but rare! – Homer • Inner beauty should be the most important part of improving one’s self. – Priscilla Presley • Is beauty beautiful, or is it only our eyes that make it so? – William Makepeace Thackeray • It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness. – Leo Tolstoy • It is not sufficient to see and to know the beauty of a work. We must feel and be affected by it. – Voltaire • It’s Hard to Stay Mad When There’s So Much Beauty in the World – Kevin Spacey • Knowledge is the key to survival, the real beauty of that is that it doesn’t weigh anything. – Ray Mears • Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. – Rumi • Let us live for the beauty of our own reality. – Charles Lamb • Life is beauty, admire it. – Mother Teresa • Life is full of beauty. Notice it. – Ashley Smith • Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams. – Ashley Smith • Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies. – John Donne • Love is the beauty of the soul. – Saint Augustine • Love of beauty is taste. The creation of beauty is art. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Natural beauty takes at least two hours in front of a mirror. – Pamela Anderson • Nature, like a loving mother, is ever trying to keep land and sea, mountain and valley, each in its place, to hush the angry winds and waves, balance the extremes of heat and cold, of rain and drought, that peace, harmony and beauty may reign supreme. – Elizabeth Cady Stanton • Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face. – John Donne • O, if so much beauty doth reveal Itself in every vein of life and nature, How beautiful must be the Source itself, The Ever Bright One. – Esaias Tegner • Of life’s two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a laborer’s hand. – Khalil Gibran • Of which beauty will you speak? There are many: there are a thousand: there is one for every look, for every spirit, adapted to each taste, to each particular constitution. – Eugene Delacroix • Oh, beauty, ever ancient and ever new. – Saint Augustine • Order is the shape upon which beauty depends. – Pearl S. Buck • People often say that ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves. – Salma Hayek • Rare is the union of beauty and purity. – Juvenal • Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together. – Petrarch • Science will never be able to reduce the value of a sunset to arithmetic. Nor can it reduce friendship to formula. Laughter and love, pain and loneliness, the challenge of beauty and truth: these will always surpass the scientific mastery of nature. – Louis Orr • Since love grows within you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul. – Saint Augustine • Some people look for a beautiful place, others make a place beautiful. – Hazrat Inayat Khan • Sometimes, there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can’t take it. Like my heart’s going to cave in. – Wes Bentley • The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw. – Havelock Ellis • The beauty of a lovely woman is like music. – George Eliot • The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years. – Audrey Hepburn • The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair. – Audrey Hepburn • The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. – Audrey Hepburn • The beauty of the world, which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder. – Virginia Woolf • The beauty that addresses itself to the eyes is only the spell of the moment; the eye of the body is not always that of the soul. – George Sand • The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart. – Helen Keller • The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed. – Ernest Hemingway • The contemplation of beauty in nature, in art, in literature, in human character, diffuses through our being a soothing and subtle joy, by which the heart’s anxious and aching cares are softly smiled away. – Edwin Percy Whipple • The essence of all beauty, I call love, The attribute, the evidence, and end, The consummation to the inward sense Of beauty apprehended from without, I still call love. – Elizabeth Barrett Browning • The fountain of beauty is the heart and every generous thought illustrates the walls of your chamber. – Francis Quarles • The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. – Eleanor Roosevelt • The human soul needs actual beauty even more than bread. – D. H. Lawrence • The ideal of beauty is simplicity and tranquility. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe • The kind of beauty I want most is the hard-to-get kind that comes from within – strength, courage, dignity. – Ruby Dee • The lover knows much more about absolute good and universal beauty than any logician or theologian, unless the latter, too, be lovers in disguise. – George Santayana • The power of beauty at work in man, as the artist has always known, is severe and exacting, and once evoked, will never leave him alone, until he brings his work and life into some semblance of harmony with its spirit. – Lawren Harris • The power of finding beauty in the humblest things makes home happy and life lovely. – Louisa May Alcott • The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives. – Albert Einstein • The sign of a beautiful person is that they always see beauty in others. – Omar Suleiman • The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe • The true beauty of a woman is her inherent ability to make better a man in every way. – Donald E. Williams, Jr. • The very first discovery of beauty strikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties. – Joseph Addison • the voice of beauty speaks softly; it creeps only into the most fully awakened souls – Friedrich Nietzsche • There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness. – Charles Baudelaire • There is certainly no absolute standard of beauty. That precisely is what makes its pursuit so interesting. – John Kenneth Galbraith • There is hope and a kind of beauty in there somewhere, if you look for it. – H. R. Giger • There is more or less of pathos in all true beauty. The delight it awakens has an indefinable, and, as it were, luxurious sadness, which is perhaps one element of its might. – Henry Theodore Tuckerman • There is no cosmetic for beauty like happiness. – Maria Mitchell • There is no definition of beauty, but when you can see someone’s spirit coming through, something unexplainable, that’s beautiful to me. – Liv Tyler • There is nothing that makes its way more directly into the soul than beauty. – Joseph Addison • Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy. – Anne Frank • Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. – Rachel Carson • ‘Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all. – Alexander Pope • To love beauty is to see light. – Victor Hugo • To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey’d, Such seems your beauty still. – William Shakespeare • To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same fields, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Today I see beauty everywhere I go, in every face I see, in every single soul, and sometimes even in myself. – Kevyn Aucoin • We are learning, too, that the love of beauty is one of Nature’s greatest healers. – Ellsworth Huntington • We ascribe beauty to that which is simple; which has no superfluous parts; which exactly answers its end; which stands related to all things; which is the mean of many extremes. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open. – Jawaharlal Nehru • We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting – Khalil Gibran • What beauty is, I know not, though it adheres to many things. – Albrecht Durer • When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop, striped and dotted with continents and islands, flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one, the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty. – John Muir • Where the mouth is sweet and the eyes intelligent, there is always the look of beauty, with a right heart. – Leigh Hunt • Wherever you go, man-made things are man-made, but you’ve got to get out and see God’s beauty of the world. – Michael Jackson • Women’s modesty generally increases with their beauty. – Friedrich Nietzsche • Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth, follow only beauty, and obey only love. – Khalil Gibran • You can take no credit for beauty at sixteen. But if you are beautiful at sixty, it will be your soul’s own doing. – Marie Stopes • You may not, cannot, appropriate beauty. It is the wealth of the eye, and a cat may gaze upon a king. – Theodore Parker • Youth is happy because it has the ability to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.- Franz Kafka

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Beauty Quotes

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