#i struggle to accept being a bug .and all that .it's like a duality of futile effort and freedom as a higher being

[cosmoport]

been working out some more solid designs for the siblangs recently ^_^

[dicenete]

I repainted his face more times than probably necessary but something always caught my eye and still does, but it is done. is done. It's fine. xD IkePri Tagteam:

@scummy-writes @goustmilk @solacedeer @m-mmiy @mxrmaid-poet

@pawnkyyy @ludivineikewolf @violettduchess @floydsteeth @wistfulwanderingone

@sh0jun @lorei-writes

A little bit of rambling of him below the break, spoilers (Keith's route, and little bit of Nokto's route) and such :0 so you have been warned.

TL;DR: I enjoyed the route despite its questionable elements. MC is too forgiving at times, but other than that, romanctic route was cute. Licht, the third wheel, was funny but sad.

Okay first about Keith's visual design: I really love how his design is the most asymmetrical from the suitors. Like the jacket and the vest he has. The jacket is very interestingly layered, almost like you aren't sure which part is the main thing and what is the accent. The green or the gold? The host or the alter? : D Same with his vest. His duality is battling in his clothing too hahaha

Keith's route was interesting. I had heard lots of differing opinions about it and I had my own reservations.

One mainly about the portrayal of DID and how the route does it. First things first: I'm not an expert at all. I won't even humor the idea that I had any say in anything regarding it. But overall, it could have been worse? Of course it might be very extreme in the way Alter Keith is hostile towards Host Keith. And of course you shouldn't take this as the only way the alter systems work. But as I said: I'm not an expert.

I had heard that the dramatic route follows Alter Keith and romantic route host Keith. I picked the romantic one. I had my personal reasons for that tho. But aside from that, it was nice to be with Keith that who struggled with self-worth. It was nice to see him grow as a character and find that strength to stand up for himself. (The fact that the host Keith seems to think that he is inferior to Alter Keith and that people would prefer the alter over him. The amount of stress that will bring. )

Keith's uncle was your very generic villain/antagonist without any real depth. He was a spoiled noble and so on. But since this was more about Keith inner journey I thought it was fine that it was like that.

The drugging scene… Well. That's a… a topic. Hmm… Host Keith himself felt very guilty about it and was full of remorse. Not that it was his choice to do it. Alter Keith well… He might justify it because he was gathering information about a rumor that might endanger his home country and people if it were true. I kinda can see where he is coming from, but also...IT CERTAINLY WAS DESTROYING OF TRUST. Like that time when Nokto "accidently" gets MC drunk. but hey ho. Since there is limited time frame for the chapters, I do understand they can't really jam all the things there, but I wanted Belle be more angry with him with Alter Keith for longer.

Maybe that's what bugs me sometimes. That Belle/Emma/MC is sometimes too forgiving and too much of a doormat. It works in routes like Yves and Licht (from the routes I have played, Leon seems like the most respectable gentleman too), because they are not being insulting towards her. I would even think that she works with Clavis, tho I would love to see him with someone who shares his chaotic gremlin energy. But with characters like Chev, Silvio or Alter Keith the their "power" doesn't feel balanced. MC seems to be completely on their mercy even if they stand up to them in some way. (Gilbert is another can of nasty things.)(With Chev's route, well, that is also a rambling for another time. But I haven't finished his route yet. so I will keep my ramblings to myself for now.)

Is Keith's route more about acceptance then? Accepting the good and the bad of a person? Possibly. I would think that is a good way to put it. Both Keiths have good and bad sides. And it seems that they are working on them.

[aspoonofsugar]

How do you interpret the scene when eren is asking mikasa about her feeling? You think he was hoping for a confession ? And do you think he ever considered her having romantic feelings for him?

Hi! I've been reading SnK pretty casually so far and it's backfired on me because I don't understand much of what's going on now lol. What I'm most clueless about is Mikasa's response and how "things would've turned out differently" had she told Eren she loved him. What would've changed? What does a declaration of love have to do with this? Sorry about the dumb question and thanks in advance!            

Hello anons!

Your asks can be answered together and they also give me the chance to share some thoughts on the chapter, so I hope you won’t mind if I use them for this.

First of all, I think that it is important to say that this chapter was what cruel, but beautiful means in a nutshell. As the meta I have just linked shows the theme of the beauty and cruelty of the world is a theme connected to Mikasa’s character and it is one of the major themes of the series.

This chapter explores it once more:

The chapter opens with Mikasa finally facing what she has been trying to supress throughout the whole arc, i.e. that Eren has always had a violent side since when he was a child:

Basically, she is finally being honest with herself, while at the beginning of the arc she was still defending Eren:

However, as this chapter shows she (together with Armin) has been feeling Eren drifting away for a while now, but she has simply refused to accept it:

However, because of Eren’s actions in chapter 112 and her current situation Mikasa has reached a realization and she has now become able to see Eren more clearly. Of course, even if she is more aware of it, she has still trouble acting over this new sense of awareness:

In the chapter itself she and Armin (despite both knowing deep down what Eren is up to) are still negating it and they are still trying to reassure each other about the fact that Eren is on their side. However, what they are missing is that it is not important whose side Eren is on (because yeah, Eren is not on Zeke’s side and he is definately acting to save Paradis), but if they can and want to be on Eren’s side at all. It is not about what Eren has chosen, but about what they themselves will choose.

That said, Mikasa’s POV is more complex than simply her recognizing Eren’s negative traits. As a matter of fact, by better understanding these traits she comes to better understand Eren as a person and she doesn’t lose the awareness that together with these traits Eren has still positive ones:

This is the panel the second anon asked about and it is representative exactly of this duality. The panel shows both Eren’s violent and cruel side and his warmer and kinder side. So, what Mikasa is saying here is that Eren was not born to necessarily become a demon and that up until the very end he had a choice and the chance to become someone different. Mikasa especially remembers that short moment between them because it is retrospectively clear that in that moment Eren was hesitating and suffering and was on the brink of making a final choice:

Here, Eren is crying because he recognizes himself in that child and his family. That child has lost his freedom because of the war, just like Eren, Mikasa and Armin did. However, even if Eren sympathizes with him, he is considering killing him together with the rest of the world. This is why Eren is in pain and in that moment of pain he is asking Mikasa for some kind of reassurance. Basically, Eren is asking for connection and Mikasa wonders what would have happened if she had managed to give him the connection he was striving for.

In a sense, the scene can be seen as a parallel to what happened here:

In the scene above, Eren hates himself and is about to give up, but Mikasa’s words manage to get through him and make him be willing to stand up again and to fight. (This scene also answers to one of the questions of the first anon. Eren might know that Mikasa has feelings for him because of this, or at least he might suspect it. Either way, it is not clear).

However, in chapter 123, this doesn’t happen because, differently from what happened in the Clash of the Titans arc, Mikasa is not able to be honest and direct with what she feels. If anything, she goes back to her comfort zone:

Despite her clearly being in love with Eren, she is not able to act on her feelings and to make their relationship progress. This can be seen as her putting up some kind of resistance to the idea of growing up and of letting go of the status quo to embrace a new one. This is also why her answer of Eren being family, despite highlighting familial love on her part, leaves both her and Eren unsatisfied. In a sense, it is an answer which is linked to the past and not to a possible future. And we, as readers, know that what has been bugging Eren is precisely a specific future he saw and which he is not able to ignore.

Basically, in the panel where Mikasa compares the two sides of Eren she is regretting the fact that they were not able to build a different future and she highlights that the present she is experiencing was not really bound to happen because Eren is a person and as a person he has always had different sides.

Mikasa’s convinction may be important for two different reasons.

1) It is a perspective which is not fatalistic and so it might contrast with the one Eren has apparently currently embraced according to which he is trying to realize a specific future he has seen.

2) It ties very well with one of the themes of the manga which is the necessity of understanding monsters and why they are born.

The chapter is called The Devils of Paradis Island and it ends in this way:

Eren’s design is very clearly meant to resemble a devil and he is clearly embodying all the fears the rest of the world has about Paradis and its inhabitants.

However, the chapter clearly shows us that Eren is still a person and not only that. It clearly shows that he is acting the way he is also because of what other people did:

The series starts by presenting us an enemy which was impossible to understand and which was representative of the cruelty of the world. The titans represented nature and its incredible strength and cruelty. The people with their connections represented beauty.

However, right now we are shown beauty and cruelty within the same person. Eren who is for Mikasa the symbol of human connection wants to wipe out humanity and he probably wants to do so in the name of those same connections Mikasa cherishes.

In conclusion, we can say that the chapter explores two main themes.

1) The beauty and cruelty of the world.

2) How monsters are born.

It does so through Mikasa and Eren’s relationship and it also suggests a vision of the world (Mikasa’s) which thinks things could have turned out differently.

I think that this chapter can be seen as the conclusion of the 104th’s discussion about Eren which has kept going throughout the arc and that started with Armin’s pov (chapter 106).

This chapter is actually very similar to Armin’s one because it shows happier times and how Eren has been struggling. It also clearly establishes that both Mikasa and Armin had realized Eren’s struggles, but refused to aknowledge and to address them in time and this is among the reasons which led to the current situation.

The two chapters are also important because they show that both Armin and Mikasa have to stop definying themselves in relation to Eren. They must stop following him and become their own people. To be more precise, Armin must accept that he and Eren’s ideals do not match and must act according to what he believes to be right and Mikasa must face and accept her complicated feelings for Eren and act on them of her own free will.

I hope this helped and sorry for my ramblings. Thank you for the asks!

[phantomwarrior12]

Believable (Part 9)

Prompt: Duality by Set It Off

Word Count: 2,510

Warnings: Angst, canon-style swearing, a smidge of PTSD

Summary: Forgiveness is the hardest thing to give--it’s even harder to earn after committing genocide.

A/N: Hey folks!

Ah, I finally found the inspiration to finish this next chapter. It was a little difficult, but I found the right way for Isaac to approach the Reds and Blues: reluctantly.

As always, leave a like/comment and let me know your thoughts!

Enjoy!

~ Phantom

Saudade Masterlist

Shenanigans (Part 10)

--------------

I have a confession that you will not believe That you could not perceive this freak

---------------

"Don't move."

"Lower your weapon, Carolina." Sam steps between the barrel of the former Freelancer's gun and Isaac's tense frame.

"I thought he was dead." Washington tightens his grip on his magnum.

"We blew him off a fucking cliff! He should be splattered!" Tucker adds, keeping himself between the mercenary duo and Caboose.

"If you'll lower your weapons--"

"Alright. That's enough," Isaac heaves a sigh and steps around Sam, sporting more bravado than he truly has, "If you want to shoot me, shoot me--"

"Felix! 

"--after you hear what I have to say."

The siblings exchange a short, reluctant look before lowering their weapons, "Talk fast."

"You're all probably wondering how the hell I'm still alive and what the actual fuck I'm doing here. Well, it's an outrageous tale, but in short, armor lock saves lives and my partner wants to patch things up. No, I'm not going to shoot any you because I have zero interest in dealing with that level of bullshit after all this time. Only reason I'm here is because Sam insists we reconcile or some shit."

Isaac folds his arms across his chest, "You don't bug me, I leave all of you alone. Sound fair?"

Wash glances towards Carolina, "What do you think, boss?"

Carolina stares him down and for a split second, Isaac thinks she's going to shoot him. It's only after the barrel of her battle rifle lowers that he allows the breath he's been holding to slip out.

"You're on thin ice, Felix. If you so much as a look at my men the wrong way, Locus won't be able to save you. Do I make myself clear?"

He doesn't like how close she's standing, but somehow he manages to play it off with a wry smile and a quick nod, "Crystal." 

"Good. I'll be keeping my eye on you, so don't get any ideas."

He nods, relaxing a little when she starts back towards Blue Base. His eyes drift to Tucker and Washington, both of whom are slowly corralling Caboose away.

There's a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach when Tucker levels a meaningful look on him, a warning to steer clear of him and all of Blue Team.

Isaac doesn't blame him, he'd do the exact same thing if it came to Sam and their positions were reversed.

"That went better than anticipated."

"What'd you anticipate?" Isaac turns to face his partner, curious.

"I anticipated getting shot." Sam returns coolly, starting past Isaac and towards the smaller base the Reds and Blues had built for him.

It isn't until they're inside that Isaac speaks again, "Nice place you got. Sparsely furnished with--" he stares incredulously at the cot in the corner, the weapons on a shelf and something that vaguely resembles a bathroom in the back of the building, "--weapons."

He tries a smile, but Sam notices the prominent grimace. He's trying, Sam knows that. This isn't going to be an easy process, but they can try--they have to try.

"I'll talk to the others about acquiring another cot." 

"No, it's okay. I'll just," distasteful glance at the floor, "sleep on the floor. Besides, they're not going to want to help me out--not after everything that's happened. I don't blame them, Sam, not anymore."

His voice almost cracks and Sam frowns, setting his pack off to the side and moving to stand beside his brother, "What are you talking about?"

"The things we did on Chorus, the last time I faced them. God, Sam, I tried to kill them. I was so blinded by rage that I didn't try to think about it as a mercenary or even as soldier--I thought about it as a monster. Vengeance, pride, retribution. It was stupid."

"It's in the past, Gates. There's nothing you can do to change it. The only way forward now is to accept and push through--make amends, try to reconcile with what's left of your humanity."

Isaac gives a slight nod, "That what you did?"

"It's what I'm doing."

Isaac snorts but offers a smile, "where do we start?"

"With the Reds and Blues."

---------------

"I don't think I'll ever understand how you haven't killed these people yet. I mean, God! They're so fucking stupid!"

"Calm down, Felix."

"I'm trying!" Isaac flings the pillow across the room and heaves a sigh, "how are they this stupid?"

Sam shrugs and returns to cleaning his weapon, the same weapon he's cleaned every morning for the past six months.

The former mercenary runs like clockwork; a morning run around the complex, an improvised weightlifting regiment before he showers and begins the process of cleaning his equipment.

He provides structure, a routine to give him some semblance of normal in this fresh hell that Isaac has struggled with adjusting to--a hell he hadn't known even existed until he arrived six months ago.

He'd begun to join Sam on his runs two weeks in, a bonding exercise that dredged up memories from their time in basic training. Eventually, three months later, the Freelancers joined in, opening gateways to conversation--paths that would ease his transition as a member of their crew.

Carolina didn't shoot him threatening glares in passing, Washington allowed Caboose near the former mercenary--something Isaac dearly wishes Wash wouldn't do.

He's sure the big, blue man-child isn't so bad once you get to know him, but heaven knows he never wants to get to know him.

The Reds have slowly warmed up to him, going as far as to quite forcibly include him in their debates and shitty plans. In short, Isaac actively avoids them whenever possible, especially when Grif decides to become philosophical.

The only remaining member of the Blood Gulch Crew, the only man who continues to hate him with every fiber of his being is Tucker.

He's tried, dear God, he's tried to break the wall around Tucker's exterior, but to no avail. The teal trooper is stubborn, bull-headed in more ways than one. Isaac might even dare to suggest that he can respect Tucker's resolve--his unwillingness to accept Isaac, to accept everything he's done and forgive him.

Perhaps he's right. Perhaps Isaac isn't worthy of forgiveness, but he promised Sam he'd try.

So, he heaves a sigh and starts out of their barracks, grumbling about stupidity and how he wished he could have escaped these rainbow colored morons.

It isn't long before he reaches Blue base, it isn't long until Wash directs him to Tucker's room and suddenly he's staring at the cold steel. A quiet inhale before he squares his shoulders and knocks on the door, forcing the annoyance and reluctance from his features.

"No, Caboose! I do not want to go play with--" the door slides open and Tucker's features contort in disgust, "the fuck do you want?"

Isaac clears his throat, "You have second to talk?"

"For you? Absolutely not." Tucker moves back inside his room, tension and silent fury radiating.

"Tucker--wait." Isaac reaches out, he's not sure why but it's a desperate plea. Tucker's eyes flicker between his hand and his gaze, thoroughly unimpressed and uninclined to humor him.

"Please," the lean mercenary manages, "just hear me out."

"You murdered thousands of people, why the hell would I listen to anything you have to say?"

It's a brief moment of hesitation, a fleeting moment of uncertainty before Isaac finds the words, "You're right."

"What?"

"I said you're right. I've done some pretty fucked up shit in my life and I'll be the first to admit that Chorus was one of the worst."

"One of the worst?"

"I fought in a war, Tucker, there were missions I regret more than anything in the world. Kimball no doubt mentioned that--

"--she mentioned it." Tucker folds his arms across his chest, perching himself against the desk just inside the room.

"She mention the battles Sam and I were in?"

"She did, but if you're gonna use that as an excuse--"

"--it's not an excuse, not even close. It's an explanation."

Teal flickers over the lean mercenary, skeptical and cautious all at once. "And you expect me to listen to it?"

"I'm hoping you'll listen to it."

For a brief moment, Isaac's certain the simulation trooper will tell him where to shove it and close the door in his face. For a brief moment, all time stops and he's never been this nervous in his life. For a brief moment, he wishes Sam was standing beside him, an anchor he clings to far more than he likes to admit.

"Fine." Tucker beckons him inside, "you have five minutes. I promised Wash that much."

Isaac snorts, "Seems we both made promises we're reluctantly keeping."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," Isaac waves the question off, casting a quick glance around the room before tired brown settles on Tucker's impatient expression.

"So? You gonna bare your soul or what?"

Some piece, some fragment of the soldier he'd once been begs him to leave, to keep the horrors tucked away in the box buried beneath booze and snark.

He brushes aside the hesitation, doing his damndest to square his shoulders and grasp at the fleeting confidence crumbling beneath ghosts and nightmares re-enacted behind glossed hazel.

"Right," Isaac mumbles, "bare my soul." Hands clap together, wringing together uncomfortably, "not an easy topic, but hey, let's try it."

Tucker seems unimpressed, but straightens a little from the desk, "Four minutes."

Something inside curses, but Isaac forces annoyance aside in favor of humoring his partner, "You signed up for the war, got dumped into Freelancer's little program where all you had to do was sit in a canyon and play pretend. Sam--Locus and I weren't so lucky."

He clears his throat, arms folding defensively across his chest, "We grew up together and were fortunate enough to be assigned to the same squadron. There were a lot of battles we shouldn't have walked away from, but we did."

Eyes turn downcast as words slip and slide past his tongue, hell shifting to the forefront of his mind.

"The battle Kimball told you about, the one where Locus and I were the sole survivors? It's not something you can forget."

Tucker tilts his head, slowly unfolding his arms, "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then why bring it up?"

"To set up the explanation--" Brown flickers upwards, searing sparks dancing dangerously in the dimly lit room.

"Dude, you can't just reference some epic war story and not tell me about it!"

"It's not a great story to tell, Tucker."

"If you want me to understand where you're coming from, you're gonna have to give me some sort of picture to go off of! All I've seen is the douche bag mercenary who killed a bunch of people!"

"God, you're such a dick." Isaac heaves a sigh, scowling at the triumphant smirk etched into Tucker's features.

"Just tell the story."

"All right, all right. We were en route to an outpost the UNSC had established as a staging area."

Reluctance ebbs away as Isaac's gaze drops from the cocky trooper to the floor somewhere between the two of them. The snark falters, leaving only the ghosts of his past to haunt his every thought. His voice is hollow, quieter than Tucker's ever heard him speak in the six months he's been there. 

"We didn't see them until it was too late and by then, our squadron was surrounded. Locus and I stayed together, cleared a path wherever we could, but it wasn't enough."

Trembling fingers dig into flesh, warding off the flames behind his eyes, gazing absently at the cement floor, "One by one, we watched our squadron fall. There was an explosion, knocked us apart. I landed far enough away that when the Covenant came through--they took Locus instead."

Isaac purposefully leaves Mason's name out of it, he can't bring himself to utter it.

"After the smoke settled, another squad came through, searching the remains for survivors. I came to, they told me I was all that was left. I had seen Locus's capture, I watched them drag him away. Every muscle screamed for me to stand and go after him," Isaac's hands curl into fists, knuckles digging relentlessly into aching tendons.

"I couldn't stand. I couldn't move. I couldn't save him."

"What'd you do?" Tucker asks, gone is his scowl and malice, leaving only curiosity and an entranced gaze.

"I did what any sane friend would do: I disobeyed orders and charged into their camp with an assault rifle and a half-assed plan." Isaac manages a snort, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Guess you really are one of us. We wing all our plans too." Tucker smirks, almost proud of the mercenary.

"Yeah, well, long story short, I rescued Locus and we were discharged from the military shortly thereafter. What I'm trying to say is that I've always done what it takes to survive, whether it's killing aliens or attempting to exterminate a bunch of unsuspecting civilians. I recognize that what I did was horrible and unforgivable and, in a way, it makes me almost like the Covenant--"

"--no, it makes you exactly like the Covenant."

"Fine. In any case, I want to try to make things right. I want to do what Locus is doing, and, unfortunately for me, that means making peace with all of you."

Tucker snorts, "So, you're essentially trying to save your soul by apologizing to us?"

Isaac's shoulders slump, "It's a first...tiny step in a decent direction."

"You're gonna need more than a tiny step, Felix."

"I'm well aware of that, Tucker. Are we good?"

Tucker eyes him quietly for a moment, seemingly mulling over the question before he pushes off the desk and holds out a hand, "I guess. I have one condition, though."

"What?"

"No more murdering innocent people."

"What qualifies as innocent?"

"Felix--"

"--kidding. I agree to your terms." Isaac accepts his hand with a quiet smile.

"Good. Now, the first order of business is to subject you to Caboose's official welcoming seminar."

"No."

"Oh, yes. If you're gonna join our team, you have to experience the same level of hell the rest of us have."

Tucker guides him out of the room and towards the commons area.

"Can't I just stay in my mini base and be on my own team with Locus?"

"Nope! Your buddy joined Red Team, so you get to join Blue Team."

"You already have two Freelancers, that doesn't seem like a fair fight."

"Blue Team rules this canyon, get over it." Tucker's grin widens when he spots Caboose playing with Freckles, "hey, Caboose! Come give Felix the Blue Team welcome seminar!"

"Yes! Welcome to Blue Team, Mr. Felix!"

"Tucker--"

"--have fun."

The teal soldier leaves Isaac alone with the tallest member of Blue Team tearing across the room to come greet him.

"Goddammit."

-------------

Part 10

Tagging:

RVB Forever: @mamma-dragon @loveliestoflunchboxes

RVB Mercs: @antsyserpentine

Bonus: @miles-superus-117

[ashlemonadechronicles]

Chapter 5: Janet Jackson’s ‘The Velvet Rope’ Gave Me Permission To Go Deep & Heal

Janet Jackson had my attention as young as 4 when I’d watch her and Michael dance fiercely in outer space in 1995′s “Scream” video. In the ‘90s, watching music videos was a mini-event my the living room. I’d watch “Runaway” as she’d dance and jump off monuments around the world with a smile and that alone made her magical to me. 

Her freedom made me want to be that free.  

When The Velvet Rope album was released on Oct. 7, 1997, the Janet era that left the greatest imprint on me, I was 6-years-old. I could remember hearing the poetic groove of “Got Til It’s Gone,” mimicking by the Joni Mitchell vocals in the chorus. Though I wasn’t allowed to listen to the album until I was a teenager, her music videos were enough. Her appearance mirrored her edgy vibe with crimson curls, pierced nose and tattoos fascinated me. So much so that I bugged my dad to find the exact poster I saw of her in a hardware shop that hangs in my bedroom today, with her giant nipple ring and infamous Mickey and Minnie tattoo on her bikini line. 

As a little black girl seeing a black woman like Janet Jackson, one of the biggest artists in the 1990s shaping music, embracing her true self was like an epiphany. 

The Velvet Rope, an introspective concept album chronicling her experience after an emotional breakdown she endured after the janet. World Tour was one of Rolling Stone’s “500 Greatest Albums of All Time.” In her most revealing and mature work to date, its legacy is the journey of self-discovery and acceptance that still resonates with listeners 20 years later. It is quite frankly her greatest masterpiece. 

The incredible evolution of Janet shows in each era; declaring her independence in Control (1986), social activism meets music in Rhythm Nation 1814 (1989), and baring her femininity with sexual intimacy and sensuality in janet. (1993). All adding layers to her artistry that continued to be groundbreaking and innovative but The Velvet Rope asked the question, “How do you perceive yourself?”

The brilliance of this era was her approach to using her vulnerability as a testimony for her music to explore subjects of sexuality, love, online dating, homophobia, domestic violence, and the depths of her hurt. Even more incredible now was seeing a black woman addressing her mental health of depression, body dysmorphia and self-harm so openly was even unconventional.

“The Velvet Rope is the need, I feel, that we all have to feel special and this need brings out different sides to us. It brings out the best or the worst of us,” Janet said in a 1998 interview. “Through my life I’ve seen different velvet ropes and ropes put on. It separates us from others, it doesn’t allow us to know ourselves, this rope. Within this album it’s putting down that velvet rope down and allowing the people to get to know who I really am.”

Janet, then 31, unfolding as a woman throughout this album fed me through my teenage years as I struggled with molding my identity on top of being self-conscious about my weight and skin. I was an introverted, sensitive tomboy and when I’d watch her concert on TV or get lost in the music, I looked to her as a sister-friend who’d been where I was. I loved the duality of her: the nice, soft-spoken, private introvert in interviews and the confident, daring and sexy force of nature on stage and in her videos. Seeing the way she was unapologetic spoke volumes. 

As a 26-year-old, The Velvet Rope has grown with me as I continuously look within myself to become the woman that I am meant to be: whole, happy, and valued. As I slowly approach my thirties, my wish for myself is to be freer from the burdens I put on myself trying to live up to expectations of others. So much so that I was diagnosed with mild depression and was consumed with a crippling fear of feeling unworthy of what I desire or feeling like a failure if I don’t obtain it. 

Every day brings a moment when I have to face myself and the ropes I put up within myself. The song “You” held a mirror to my face with the message that didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear but what I needed to: stop trying to please others and not honor yourself.

You gotta say what you want, you gotta say what you mean /

Trying to please everyone, sacrifice your own needs/

Check in the mirror my friend, no lies will be told then/

Pointin’ the finger again, you can’t blame nobody but you.     

Janet beautifully unearthed the inner workings of the soul behind the strong black woman armor: the complexities and nuances. She was provocative yet conscientious, flawed yet whole. No matter how controversial it may have been to some or it not matching the sales of her previous albums according to critics, Janet’s testimony during the darkest time of her life served a greater purpose. Her words empowered and in return, fans like myself strive to be authentic because she led by example on the platform of her celebrity. I saw a tweet from a girl about how The Velvet Rope made her feel that who she was was okay and reviews about how it saved their lives.

“I don’t pretend to speak for anybody and I don’t pretend to represent anyone,” Jackson said in a 1998 Rolling Stone interview. “At the same time, I need to offer hope. People need nourishment. That’s the art I’m interested in. Hopeful art.”

Growing as a woman meant unlearning what I thought to be true as I dig further understand why the bad things of the past affect me and to mend that wound with self-love and grace. Giving your pain a voice to speak it openly is the first way to heal. Author Toni Morrison said it truly, “You wanna fly? You got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”

When I attended my first Janet concert in 2015 in Grand Rapids, Michigan that night, singing and cheering along with fans watching as she came alive on stage. I could feel that I wasn’t the only one whose life she liberated in some way and we were all connected with the woman who dared to lift back her rope and invited us to do the same. One thing was evident. We were all flying together.

And for that, thank you, Janet. 

How has The Velvet Rope album and era impacted you? 

[halas1]

Assif Tsahar - Experimental Israel

Professional at Being You

The entry Assif Tsahar in Wikipideia describes an Israeli tenor sax and bass clarinet player. Although no genre is quoted, his collaborations disclose a noteworthy link to free jazz and improv. 

They also bare a hint to possible noteworthy skill. However, amongst his many hats, Tsahar is mainly known as the co-owner with Daniel Sarid at Levontin 7 – now in it’s 10th year as a mythical meeting place for indie cultures in Tel Aviv.

Childhood friends and collaborators, Tsahar and Sarid left Israel for NY, and specifically for jazz studies at The New School. Tsahar was already embedded in free/improv practice and did not find his place in the standard jazz studies. So he continued a bug started with the late Arie Shapira and his theory studio in Israel, and enrolled into Mannes for classical theory; all along making ties within the local improv scene: “I learned through colleagues and my involvement in the scene. It seemed odd to study in a school a practice in which one was required to have a personal expression. And teachers – they have their own egos, and want to take you their direction. That’s why I loved theory – it was a distanced practice, ideal as it were.”

Assif Tsahar took up a guitar at 13, and immediately he recognized it as a potent tool for self-expression. His teacher at the time was into jazz, so that’s what he studied… but it also got him hooked! At a later age, with his trio, Tsahar actively tried to veer away from standard jazz forms. By this time he had already realised a duality: “People say: ‘you have to know this, you have to know that’. It creates a struggle between external and internal forces. Today I realise that this sort of struggle aids creativity; one can’t afford to fall in love with ideas, as they tend to change.” True to this experimental mark, Tsahar felt no need to commit music to paper when it came to small formations. He immersed himself within the NY improv scene and was taken by its inclusive approach: great jazz heads playing with novice musicians in an act of mutual learning and abundant freedom. However, Tsahar is a professional improviser and quite particular in his tastes: “Total freedom doesn’t feel like my aesthetic; it’s simply not fulfilling for me. I find something must control ego, and for me – that’s listening. I enjoy crossing boundaries but it isn’t my journey – I need a music that perpetually pushes forward with a momentum.“

Returning to Israel, Tsahar rejoins the small but vibrant improv scene championed by Harold Rubin, and Sarid, who had already returned a few years earlier. Sarid was manager at the mythical Gada Ha’Smalit, and it wasn’t before long the idea of opening their own place came up: “The Gada presented an alternative – it was the closest we ever came to an improvisers collective in Israel – and it was with this spirit in mind that we opened the Levontin.” Taking a step back from his own career as player, Tsahar dedicated his time solely to the new venue, and his sacred practice hours (“I would go mad if I didn’t play”). Needing an expressive outlet, Tsahar returned to his Shapira and Mannes days, and took up writing. He enters the Master program in composition at the Rubin Academy in Jerusalem and discovers what he describes as: “the meditation of composing… “When you write, the art is different – it’s not real time on paper… a different kind of expression.”… “You also need to convey it to the player. True, playing is my practice, but it’s a meditation for me, so to speak. How do I relate my compositional ideas to non-improvisers? For instance, I took my own improv set dedicated to the late Arie Sapira, and transcribed it for oboe. Now you must go into dialogue with the player via his or her instrument. And you are going to commit – a written piece is not meant for change!”

So enamoured is Tsahar these days with the art of composing, he is even contemplating a PhD in the field and its research. Unsurprisingly, the focus is on ‘the independent player’, or ‘the communication with a player via the written score’: “Free improvisers have alternative technical abilities, usually unique. Classical practice begs to obliterate the individual. Avant Garde is the same bullshit – at the end of the day it’s a human thing that cannot be escaped. But I want the unique player, and this requires of them a process that would have enabled them to create their own world – ‘professional at being you’. The difference in attitude is between: ‘where does this take me?’ vs. ‘I want to go there!’ Tsahar lauds Bach’s approach towards technical detail or expression. In his strictly hand-written scores he leaves much room for interpretation, or in comparison to standard contemporary writing – doubt. His process is that of inviting the player into a dialogue, and about accepting their differences in approach towards the score: “This immediately is an invitation for them to play it differently every time. I’ve created a conflict in the score – this prompts a different approach from the player. I want the player that is like a kid who sits at the piano for the first time. Then, years of bombardment later – that kid, that place, is still there. The performer and I should both relate to the piece through the instrument – using it externally to our inner meditation of playing it. I believe in the energy of playing – this is the source for composition. But you must let the instrument lead.”

In immediate relation to his playing, Tsahar has always supported “open ends” in his improv style, as well as an instrumentalist. Relating to past artists such as Coltrane and Stravinsky, he welcomes change and its inherent writing off of the past: “Even with Coltrane, people had to accept that ‘this is what I sound like now’.” Tsahar’s current practice as improviser acts more as a meditation for him: “It’s improv, but these days I’d be working mainly on a particular technique, sound or phrase. As preparation for stage performances, I meditate. The shape they will take is a gestalt of everything we, the performers, are. And then there’s fumbling… like with William Parker… it’s like a circus in many ways – you’re both trained, and taking risks. But it all happens within clear bounds. No doubt, though, composition has promoted brevity in my playing: Today I explore similar ideas and don’t stray as much. Even if I heard an old recording of mine and liked it, I couldn’t play like that anymore. Playing in meditation, for me, is like: listen… loosen up… take control… trip yourself… listen… loosen up… take control… trip yourself, etc. With my writing, I will always attempt to promote the player’s own tripping into the notes on the score. Listening.”

When musing together on why one is the way Assif is, and why more people than ever find this way of expression favourable, Tsahar adds these thoughts: “… looking at free jazz – Coltrane went to church! It was a period of personal boundary crossing and shedding based on a higher political ideology championing freedom. This is the ideology, in jazz, that prompted freedom, and it’s this spirit that an African-American community brought to Europe. It’s important to say this. But looking at the world in a similar way today would simply be odd. Today’s journey is a personal one – of suggesting alternative realities and seeing how they resonate within your surroundings. The sociological system today is so crazy – we have no illusions like they did in the 60s, so even to simply watch and react in your own way is interesting.”  

[allegoryofdream]

Red feelings

I miss you so much my heart feels like I am ripping it apart. I feel like I’ll never stop loving you. You were so beautiful when you wanted to be, at times when you held me i felt like I was a rescued princess. I felt safe and beautiful at the beginning. I felt caressed and and not alone. You were my best friend, I could laugh with you about anything and everything. My heart breaks everyday knowing that we are done and that this is the reality. You are sick and I have to accept that. I tried so hard to help you and I fell in love with all of your flaws, meanwhile mine were growing. So many mornings I wake up feeling incomplete without you, when in fact when I was with you I felt so utterly alone

This feeling lingers and I miss you more everyday I wish we could throw the past away and start again, but I know it would end up in the same place I lie to myself, I make things with you seem better than they ever were I fell in love with the idea I had of you I never knew you, you hid yourself so well from me, too scared to open up I poured my soul out to you expecting you to do the same Silly me This solitude speaks volumes to my soul which now understands you never wanted to move forward You only wanted to place blame for everything on me Training me to take the fault for everything I called you out every time something huge was bugging me And you would stand there and tell me I am worrying too much, I’m being a freak, I’m over analyzing I made myself think I was being so toxic when I wasn’t, I just wanted the truth. I cared and wanted to fix the problems we had. Years of this toxic cycle imprinted in my brain, I made mistakes I would never have never done before I met you I looked in the mirror and I saw a stranger I looked at you and saw the same My heart aches for us to heal and work But I know it will never be, you see, people like you don’t change unless their willing You think there’s nothing wrong, so how could you change My heart aches when I think back to all our beautiful memories I miss the way you slipped inside of me when we were both craving each other’s touch Sometimes my sexual thoughts get the best of me I miss the passion I miss your lips on my body, I miss feeling like a princess with you and a bad girl at the same time I was fully committed to you in our early days, ah, all I wanted for the rest of my life was you I became codependent I lost my self esteem I lost myself When I discovered you I fell in love with self destruction when I fell in love with you I should have known The lies were just the beginning That later you would judge, ridicule, gaslight and lie to me And pretend like nothing ever happened, deeming me insane to react to something that wasn’t a big deal or even real Even if I caught you in a lie, it would somehow end up being my fault Something I never did to you I never shamed you I praised you I was upset because you gave me so many reasons not to trust you I still wanted to take care of you forever I forgot about myself I slowly started to realize That I can’t change someone who doesn’t want to You just said you did, told me everything I ever wanted and needed to hear I believed you You ruined me As my depression and anxiety grew you pushed me further into the ground Mocking my pain and aggressively telling me that I was just doing it all for attention You cornered me and my pain I reacted with incredible force I screamed. I hit. I cried. I felt horrible.

You never showed respect for my opinion like I did for yours

You made me feel like I intentionally wanted to hurt you when I was reacting to you. You confused my mind to the point of manipulating my soul into becoming a horrible person I believed I was horrible So I became horrible Unknowingly and knowingly horrible to myself and you when I got upset or sad I wasn’t strong enough to turn back, I had nothing left I trusted you and let you destroy me I had given you kindness and understanding in so many fucked up situations which you created, every human has their breaking points. I had most of mine with you

I never wanted things to be this way, what happened to us? Where are we going? We destroyed ourselves I let you destroy me The lies The judgment The misunderstandings The confusion The manipulation It ruined me.

I want you to know that I never lied to you, I told you everything you ever needed to know. I wanted us to work. I faced myself, my faults, I wanted to move forward It’s a shame you couldn’t do the same for yourself and me It’s a shame I wasn’t worth enough to you to better yourself for our love It’s a horrible feeling, the feeling of feeling like you were the only one who ever cared about what happened with our love All this time and energy, seemingly going into nothing

In the future you say Darling, I will be long gone by then My spirit will be free and open And I will have fully realized that someone like you is toxic to my being.

I let you steal my light Never again

Perhaps, if you came to me and tried to see how I felt when you packed my things without me knowing. I thought there was going to be a discussion But no, you decided for yourself. How selfish of you to treat me like someone who never loved you I am disgusted that you didn’t think about how much that would rip me apart I told you I needed time, I needed my friend. My friend being “the other man”, I sought him out for comfort, understanding, love, gentleness, understanding conversations, everything I never had with you. He saw how sad I was with you and wanted to love me, I let him aid in ending our love. I needed someone to talk to, I should have stopped talking to you before I consoled him about my feelings I made a mistake in the midst of being blinded by so much pain I apologized and proved I was sorry, he left the picture, until I discovered hateful messages about me on your phone - Talking to someone I thought I could call my friend, and the girl you slept with for comfort while I was gone, who promised me she would never. But she did, 3 times. She wanted nothing more from you but sex and to cause pain in my life Little did I know I was being judged for every move I made Everyone looking at me like I am intentionally deceitful, an attention whore, little girl, over dramatic, I should grow up, when they barely knew half of the story because you only chose to tell them the parts that make you look like you’re the only one who’s trying But instead you call me a cheater When I consoled a man who truly loved me I was with him when we were apart I made a mistake to talk to him while I was with you, yes, it was selfish and hurtful of me to do that to you. After years of being thrown under the bus, after years of pain, after years of misunderstandings, I let myself go. I let our love go, and I didn’t even realize it. You turn everyone against me for the one mistake that later ended up saving my life He’s here You aren’t You had so many chances to fix it and open up, but I would always later be destroyed by hidden secrets and gaslighting

I wanted to die I felt too fat Too ugly I felt like I was always overreacting I felt insane I felt like I was the devil himself Not good enough for you Makeup and reading was the only thing that made me feel good about myself I lost touch with Mother Nature I lost touch with friends After years of your ego running all over my gullible soul I left I left I left I left

The saddest realization about all of this, is that I will never love you again like I did. We will never be together again I could never let that happen I could never disrespect myself like that again. I was consciously blinded by my self conscious mind. I let you manipulate my own duality. Never again

You think that I am just overreacting to everything, how horrible of you to say that to someone who is reacting to a horribly toxic situation That I don’t publicize for sympathy from others I keep it safe inside myself, nothing gets muffled and confused that way I protected our love and hardships Out of respect for you Out of respect for us And for the sheer fact that I had no one else to talk to except the other man and you I could no longer do that because of feeling so insane, that I thought I needed psychiatric help. You worsened my pain and I let you How could I betray myself like that How could I

The only reason I kept coming back was out of sheer disrespect for myself My soul, destroyed and manipulated over and over, time and time again, eventually something inside of me died Most of the good parts of me We’re sucked out From all of the confusion and pain you caused I felt stupid with you I never felt good enough I never felt pretty I felt lazy Like I was choosing a life of demise when I was battling my depression and anxiety so hard everyday You worsened everything I struggled with

But my god, when you would touch me it felt cosmic I felt your eyes on me whenever I looked away from you I miss your touch I miss your sweet passionate kisses I miss watching movies with you I miss going for walks with you I miss sleeping beside you I miss watching you paint and print shirts I miss waking up next to you with your hair all messy, looking so peaceful I miss you snuggling up to me even though I would always push you away because of all the pain Why do I miss you so much If you cause me so much fucking pain

We cut ourselves open the first week of meeting each other and shared our blood A part of me will always live within you And a part of you will always live within me

But oh god, it kills my heart knowing we can never be together again unless you face yourself. A part of me secretly knowing that will never happen, because that means releasing the ego and admitting how many times you were wrong

It’s all about winning to you If you truly cared, your heart would be pouring out to me If you truly cared, I wouldn’t be here crying in the rain my myself