#i think it could genuinely be interesting to explore what the midwest is like

[houses-snowglobes]

fallout midwest where it's set in the midwest (hence the title) and it's just miles of empty grassland with the occasional town with 3 people in it. perhaps some reservations with pre-war indian ghouls. maybe you can find mall of america. idfk. a ghoul makes you wasteland puppy chow. i have a vision

[gilear-core]

okay I have a really big list but i’ll try to trim it down for you, divided by horror and not horror :

horror (my fave genre) (not putting the more terrifying ones on here but lmk if you want some)

💕- Hello from the Hallowoods: Your nightmarish host Nikignik presents a heartfelt horror show from the beautiful (and deadly) Northern Hallowoods. Listen as a cast of (wonderful and largely queer) survivors face twisted wildlife, the Instrumentalist, and other terrors in the forest at the end of the world. I love this show, it’s like a more cryptid/eldritch Night Vale, but it’s so much more than that! it has so many amazing threads that are genuinely exciting to unravel, and the narrators voice/voices are so soothing to listen to. if you take anything from this list take this one, it’s a perfect show!

💕- A Voice from Darkness: about a call in radio show for paranormal advice, the metaplot and the individual stories are so creepy- plus the narrator has the most perfect and spooky voice!! It also has some of the most creative and interesting paranormal lore I’ve ever heard!

💕- Sayer: listen. all powerful semi malicious AI running an unethical science research station. he is loves unethical science and being the funniest bitch around and also don’t worry about the elevators or his other versions. also he has such a fantastic voice I could (and have) listen to him for hours.

The Mistholm Museum of Mystery and Morbidity: about a museum of spooky artifacts and their stories, brought to you by your perfectly functioning audio tour guide- it’s also pretty funny as well as unsettling, and i think it balances those tones well!!

Mirrors: A story about a ghost (or creature) haunting three different generations of women! All the ladies are really lovable and complex! And there so much more to it than just spooks! (this one actually gets more mysterious and less spooky but it’s really wonderful!)

How I Died: a short indie podcast about a coroner who can talk to ghosts in a very mysterious town, it’s an amazing concept, and they bring more to the story than just a dude who can talk to ghosts!

💕- Death by Dying: about an obituary writer trying to solve the mysteries of those he writes about. It’s creepy and funny and absurd, even more off the rails than Welcome to Night Vale.

💕- Malevolent: Arthur looses his sight in an accident, and when he wakes up, there’s a mysterious voice in his head who can see through his eyes, and has to narrate the world around them!! Really spooky, and give off that 20s lovecraft/eldritch vibe, and it’s really well done! I think it’s and and really creative and smart framing device! and of all the shows i think their patreon has the most exciting rewards!

The Sheridan Tapes:The Sheridan Tapes: Anna Sheridan, famous horror novelist, has gone missing, and Sam Bailey, homicide detective, is trying to find her. He has to listen to her weird an spooky tapes for clues, but finds out a lot more about the world around him, and specifically his little city. i really love it’s one! if you like to hear your narrator sort of wax poetic while delivering spooks, you’ll def like this one!! the characters all feel real and the story unravels in a really satisfying arc!

Unwell: A story about a very creepy and very mysterious small town. It embraces the creepy vibe of the midwest, but hides a lot of the socio economic tragedy of these crumbling small towns! It’s an amazing listen!

Jar of Rebuke: weird creepy town! lovely scientist with memory lost!! gothic midwest vibes, the whole show is giving weird deer and if you saw it no you didn’t! i’m really excited to see where it goes!

Woe.Begone : Mike Walters comes across the insidious and deadly online ARG Woe.BEGONE. What initially began as a simple exploration of the game and the rumours surrounding its brutality turns in to a search for the technology that makes the game the reality bending game possible. it’s fun and weird and creepy! it moves from strict horror to more sci fi in the later seasons but we still love it!

💕- The Magnus Archives: If you’ve been on the tumblr podcast scene and haven’t had tma recommended, i’m surprised, but if not, it’s one of the best horror pods of all time. Archivist, Jonathan Sims, is tasked with sorting through the old and stories of the Magnus Archives, though his tasks soon become much larger, and much more terrifying. The stories are amazing and scary, and the metaplot is spooky and mysterious, AND all the characters are complex and lovable! It is an absolute must listen for any horror lover!

not horror (everything else)

💕- Wooden Overcoats: sitcom about two competing funeral parlors and a mouse. I know how it sounds, but it’s genuinely one of the funniest and most emotional shows i’ve ever listened to i will do anything to make the whole world hear this one (that finale 🥹🥹)

💕- Wolf 359: One of my absolute favorites! 3 astronauts and one AI on a space station that’s much to big for just the three of them. It’s kinda silly, but the plot picks up pretty fast, and theres a balance between comedic relief and more sinister aspects of the Hephaestus! the payoff on this one is phenomenal, it’s my most listened to show of all time 🥰

pasithea powder: On a faraway world, Captain Sophie Green is recovering from a war that ripped her planet apart and left her personal relationships for dead. Among the many atrocities committed on both sides was the invention of Pasithea Powder, a drug with memory altering properties. Thankfully, the drug has been eradicated and only a handful of scientists—now political prisoners—know how to recreate it. When Sophie sees one of those scientists walking free, she has no choice but to turn to an estranged friend for help. (such good scifi & romance elements here! and SO compelling!!)

Erraticus: Three beings- you me who is not a condemned criminal, one who is not a nerdy bomb enthusiast, and one who is not an artificial intelligence—end up on the same spaceship, traveling intentionally towards the edge of the solar system and unintentionally towards the center of an insidious scheme (very funny plus smarmy AI rights)

💕- Victoriosity: a detective comedy show in a very very alternate 1887! it’s weird and funny and compelling with fantastic characters (queen victoria is a cyborg amongst other things) (10/10 writing it’s so fast paced and punchy)

Brimstone Valley Mall: Demons (the funny kind) working in a California Mall in the wonderful year of 1999 trying to collect enough sin coins to get home !! (top tier comedy)

The Strange Case of Starship Iris: A very straight foreword scifi show about rebellion, survival, espionage, resistance, identity, friendship, found family, romance, and secrets. (Also, there's jokes & it’s wholesome most of the time)

Okay, it’s been too long so I have no clue who my followers or mutual are anymore.

SO, lil ice breaker for whoever sees this. Ima list all the podcasts I love and have listened to/am listening to and if you’re into any of ‘em, tell me about your favorite character and why you love them in the replies or recommend other podcasts based off my list!

Welcome to Night Vale (the gateway drug)

Alice Isn’t Dead

Within the Wires

The Bright Sessions (a FAVE. WHERE IS THE FANDOM)

King Falls AM (bring them back please)

Midnight Burger (also hello where is the fandom. Doctor Who fans will love)

The Amelia Project (do yourself a favor and start listening if you haven’t)

Desert Skies (three hour season finale is coming.. I’m not ready)

Girl in Space (BRING ME SEASON TWO)

The Left Right Game

Leaving Corvat

The Orbiting Human Circus

Hello from the Magic Tavern (genuinely surprised by the lack of presence on Tumblr)

[brownskinsugarplum76]

Writer's Month 2020

Day 31: There was only one bed

I made it! This is the last story for the month. I'm glad I tried the challenge.

This one is long. It's something I've been playing around with for a while. There's a teeny bit of romantic action between the two dudes. ❤️❤️❤️

I should add that the Iggy anecdotes are things that I've read in bio books, or things he's said in interviews.

Forgot to say earlier: thanks @ledbythreads for the sanity check on this. 😁❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They faced each other on opposite sides of the king-sized bed. They were both naked and hot after what had just transpired with Alice, and as neither of them was especially modest, neither of them thought much about it.

"Did you see how Alice made her way to the bathroom? Could barely walk!" Iggy laughed his unnerving cackle. "I've never seen a groupie look so ecstatic when we walked back here. Like she'd just won the fucking lottery."

"Not so loud, Ig! This isn't the bloody locker room." Robert's admonition came in a harsh whisper. "But I am proud of my work. Always am." Robert swept his damp curls out of his face and a beamed with a big Cheshire grin.

"She should be proud of her work, too… Would've sucked my soul out, if I had one to spare." Iggy rolled his eyes backward and opened his mouth wide in an exaggerated dramatization of his climax moments before. "Thanks for inviting me back here with her. Real nice of you to share."

Robert laughed at Iggy's joking, rubber face, but the hilarity faded when he noticed how genuine Iggy's gratitude was, and how intently he was paying attention to Robert all of a sudden. There was still amusement in Iggy's eyes, but Robert swore he saw flirtation in the pouty set of Iggy's lips. He realized he found it hard to take his eyes off the devilish little dynamo at the other side of the bed. That bastard always knew how to court attention, Robert thought, having read about Stooges shows and hearing wild word-of-mouth stories from groupies he and Iggy had in common. Guerrilla tactics, on and off the stage. A pint-sized, silver-haired man-child with a heart full of napalm.

Alice emerged from the bathroom after washing up and threw on her dress. She crawled between Robert and Iggy to kiss them both before leaving to fetch her best friend Fran from the party in Bonzo's room.

Robert lay on his back with his hands behind his head. If Fran was anything like Alice, a breather was in order before round two.

Robert sighed and glanced at Iggy, who was reclining on his side. "How does it feel to be in the big leagues? Raw Power is one hell of a record, mate." After all of Robert's chattering that night about the success of Houses of the Holy, he instantly regretted how arrogant his comment must've sounded to Iggy, who had been making music for roughly as long as Led Zeppelin had been. "Sorry," Robert interjected. "What I, uh, mean to say, Ig--"

"No, I get it, Percy." Iggy saw how much the nickname irked Robert when Bonzo spoke it and decided to twist the knife in Robert a bit.

Iggy had no poker face to speak of. Robert could see the American's thoughts slowly formulating through the movement of his big, blue cartoon eyes. Barely controlled rage pivoting to wily thoughtfulness with whiplash speed. Iggy seemed very lucid tonight, which surprised Robert, who had heard horror stories about Iggy's junkie tendencies through the grapevine. He was getting a sense that an alert Iggy was the truly dangerous Iggy.

Robert didn't know whether he would be scorched by what Iggy was going to say, or if he would be impressed by Iggy stopping himself from leveling a vicious retort. Iggy was not unlike Maureen, Robert thought--petite and fiery. And cute. Iggy's energy was vaguely familiar. The thought surprised Robert but also made him smile.

"We had to get dropped before we could perform the fucking album more than once, but yeah, we are getting bigger audiences now, thanks to Bowie's aura around the project. But we've always had a tight, rabid group of fans who really get it. The money isn't much, since the label tossed us out on our asses, but there are a few more people in the audience to catch me."

"You're a lunatic, with that stage diving." Robert caught himself breathing a sigh of relief. Iggy was reflective. Not in the mood to spar verbally.

"What? Too afraid to bust up your pretty face, Perce?"

Robert inhaled with irritation. His face flushed. He couldn't pinpoint why Iggy was getting under his skin. He'd been treated worse by the press. Much worse.

"I just don't have it in me," Robert finally said. "Plus, I'm bigger than you, and I think I could hurt someone. Or, I might come back to the stage naked, once all the birds get their hands on me."

"You'd love it. Admit it, man."

"Maybe I would, Iggy… But I'll leave you to it."

In the silent pause, Iggy swept his gaze over Robert's face again. Iggy admired the masculine set of Robert's jawline, at odds with his feline eyes and the curlicued cloud of his hair. Robert was more attractive than The Stooges' cutest roadies, and Iggy adored his roadies. Robert was a finely sculpted man who seduced everyone with very subtle androgyny. Robert's pretty hippie god look was a far cry from Iggy's battle-scarred demon persona of eyeliner and dark lips. Nevertheless, Iggy reveled in all the boys and girls wanting him. He loved blurring the lines of the expected. It was his ace, shoving people off kilter with his performance. If he straddled a man's lap and sang in his face, or kissed an unexpecting girl in the audience, all eyes would be on him. Hate or love his performance, they would be telling all their friends about it. It never failed.

By the way Robert looked at him, Iggy knew that even Robert found him to be an intriguing novelty. He smirked at the larger man, who smiled at Iggy quizzically.

Iggy wondered if Robert knew what he was doing with his look. But Robert was a god to his fans and had nothing to explain or prove to anyone.

Iggy couldn't lie to himself; he wasn't on that level. He was the sideshow for a loud, primitive band that always performed at the brink of chaos. He would be the scrappy little underdog until the day he died. Nothing came easy. He had to do the dirty work to get what he wanted.

Iggy watched Robert's chest rise and fall with his breath and imagined that it felt just as solid as Iggy's own musculature. Robert was a total package, just like Iggy had heard. Beautiful inside as much as outside. Iggy remembered the dreamy look in Sable's eyes when he saw her on the street and mentioned he'd be coming to the Riot House, as they called it. She'd asked Iggy to say hi to Robert for her. She was on to the next thing, only had eyes for Johnny Thunders these days.

Iggy started to wonder if Robert was someone he wanted, if Robert himself might be interested in exploring that kind of connection. Iggy was not turned off by the idea, no matter how much he protested about any hint of interest in men to anyone who'd listen. But he knew he'd have to be the one to make it happen with Robert. And that was always something he wrestled with.

David and Lou had no qualms about men, but Iggy hadn't truly shaken free from Midwestern ethics. It was like the time Iggy lived with Leee. It was two boys who grew up far from the coasts of America who couldn't act on their feelings, even when Iggy's robe was open and his large cock was on display. Leee was into boys, but as much as Iggy tried to entice him, nothing ever came of it. Iggy couldn't bring himself to go for Leee. Neither man ever spoke about it. Iggy had been paralyzed by his thoughts. Lee? Maybe he just wasn't sure if Iggy was sure. Iggy had broken free from society in many ways, but not this one. He sighed in frustration.

Robert noticed that Iggy's mood had shifted again, that he was lost in his thoughts, and not happy thoughts, it seemed. For all of Iggy's maniacal bravado, Robert realized that his fellow front man wasn't a savage to the core. It put Iggy in a new light in Robert's eyes.

Not that it made Robert think Iggy was delicate or weak. The ripples and etchings of wiry muscles on Iggy's body proved how strong he was, as did how he had clawed his way to a new record deal after his band had been left for dead a few years before.

Robert and Iggy weren't friends, having just met that night, but they sat by the balcony in the Hyatt suite and had a nice, long conversation over drinks, joints, and stories of the stage.

Iggy, Robert was pleased to find out, had more layers than the press ever attributed to him. Iggy was as well read as Robert and had even broader music taste than his British counterpart. It was refreshing for Robert to have a lively artistic conversation with someone who wasn't Jimmy.

Something was shifting between Robert and Iggy. Robert kind of hoped that Alice and Fran would be delayed for a while, even though he was unsure of how he wanted to fill that time with Iggy.

"Penny for your thoughts, Ig."

"Oh…" Iggy swallowed and blinked his eyes. He'd been caught. What the hell, he thought.

"Uh, Robert …"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever… Done anything with a guy?"

"Haven't had the pleasure, Iggy. You?"

"Closest I've come, I told this creep he could lick my stomach when he asked to suck my dick. And some boys in San Francisco? They, uh, have a fan club for me. Met with them a few times. Touchy-feely motherfuckers. I don't go to sleep around them."

Iggy seemed somewhat ashamed. Robert could understand. Jonesy was convinced that Robert was too provincial, too old fashioned to accept or even acknowledge the male attention he garnered. Maybe the Midlands and Midwest weren't all that different, Robert mused. Iggy may have had more exposure to men who wanted him, but he seemed just as uncomfortable with that kind of attention.

But Robert guessed Iggy, too, was willing to bend the rules a little tonight. Good company and good drugs would do that to anyone.

Both men were lost in their thoughts. The silence was painful. It had become a game of chicken.

"Aw, fuck this." Iggy broke first. He scooted closer to Robert, rested a hand on the larger man's shoulder, and pressed his lips to Robert's. For a few tense seconds it was like both notoriously sexy men forgot how to kiss. Iggy additionally feared getting tossed from the bed by Robert. But then, everything clicked. It was like the first number of an electrifying concert. Both men knew the rush that came from singing the first few bars of a song, the sweet release of all the nervous energy that built while the band played the intro, and the passion that must be doled out with the first notes to hook the audience's attention for the night. Their kiss was exactly the same.

Robert nestled a hand on Iggy's back. Iggy's tongue was exquisitely adventurous. But not aggressive. It was the exact opposite of Iggy's stage persona: tender and unhurried. It was as good as any groupie Robert had ever encountered. Robert got the feeling that Iggy had a surprising number of facets that most would never see. Robert felt honored to get a true glimpse of the man.

Iggy glided his hand into Robert's curls. The American was enjoying himself. He realized it was no big deal after all. He briefly thought of telling David afterward, to see the surprise and envy on his face. Robert. Fucking. Plant! But Iggy would never tell a soul, out of respect for Robert and this moment. And he knew Robert wouldn't breathe a word of it, either.

Robert caressed Iggy's back, causing the smaller man to purr contentedly. The taste of Robert's tongue was the taste of freedom that he'd always craved.

The door opened, and Alice and Fran barged in. Iggy and Robert continued kissing. They'd surprised themselves by not jerking away from each other.

"Oh, my God, that's so hot!" The men heard a new voice. Fran. "They couldn't even wait for us!"

The two women took the scene as their cue and climbed on the bed, choosing a man to play with, separating the embrace.

Robert winked at Iggy, and Iggy nodded his head in response. It was fun while it lasted.

[takemedancingmaine]

Familiarity

“I can't feel my toes.”

Cleo, despite living in the Midwest her entire life, did not handle cold well. She could do snow--walk in it, drive in it--no problem, but she wasn't good with just cold.

“You don't need toes,” Ana shrugged from the other side of Cleo. I giggled.

“I'm pretty sure you do,” Cleo argued. “I think it's a balance thing.”

“Maybe you should've worn better shoes,” I said before sinking my face back down into my scarf.

“What's wrong with my shoes?” She asked, defensive of her Converse.

“They're a thin canvas,” Ana said. “They're going to let the cold just seep right in.”

“But they're my favourite pair.”

“That doesn't mean they're good for the cold,” I laughed.

“Shove off, they're perfect,” Cleo argued.

“Perfect for frostbite,” Ana snickered.

The three of us were heading out to do some shopping. Ana still needed a few things and Cleo was buying gifts for her extensive family. I was tagging along because I never say no to a shopping trip, or buying thing unnecessarily for myself.

We were going to Louis’ later for some festive activities, but Ana had stressed that she really needed to hit a few of the stores today before she and Harry left to travel to each of their families and split the holiday season between the two.

It really wasn't that cold. I mean, it was cold and the sky was grey, but the wind wasn't bad and there wasn't snow covering the ground yet. It wasn't that cold.

Cleo and I agreed to just let Ana take the lead and we would just follow her around making crude jokes and laughing at all the frazzled looking parents and screaming children.

Before Cleo and I knew it, we were in our fifth store. I was holding some of Ana’s bags as she carried a basket around and filled it with gifts for various people.

“Okay, so what about them?” I pointed toward a couple over by the candles. We had been trying our hand at guessing people's relationships, whether they were brother and sister, friends, friends with benefits, or whatever else there was.

We think we spotted a man hiding from his wife and shopping for a mistress in one of the stores we’d been to. We also couldn't stop laughing at the mom with a stroller who had what we hoped was chocolate on her cheek and hair that desperately needed to be washed as she speed walked through the toy aisle assuring her child that Santa had definitely gotten his list in a voice that was too high pitched to be calm.

“They are definitely a recent couple,” Ana said with only a momentary glance over.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“For sure.” Cleo nodded.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“It's almost like they're afraid to touch each other while simultaneously unable to keep their hands off each other,” Ana said. “He's nervous and so is she, but they're both excited.”

“I was going to say pretty much the same thing because he clearly hasn't had sex with her.” Cleo shrugged.

“You can tell that from a glance?” I asked.

“Most of the time, yeah.” Ana nodded.

“Wow, are you two creepy omniscients or something?” I asked.

“Shut up and really look at them and it'll be obvious,” Cleo said. So I did. I looked at them and studied them for a moment and it appeared my friends were right. The couple seemed to want to always be touching but was almost fearful of it, the touches are brief and light and fleeting.

“Okay, yeah, I see it,” I admitted.

“Speaking of sex…” Ana trailed off suggestively. She looked up long enough to waggle her eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you if you've done anything.”

“We haven't,” I said with a shrug and looked down at the bags in my hands.

“You've been dating for three months!” Cleo yelled.

“Hey, to each their own.” Ana gave me a nod in support. “Harry took forever to make a move on me in that department because he was so nervous.”

“Harry? Nervous about busting a move?” Cleo was appalled. To be fair. So was I.

“Nervous I would think that he got around too much before me and that I wouldn't take him seriously because if it,” Ana explained. Which made sense. Harry was never shy about his undeniably sexual nature.

It made me think a lot about what my teachers were like outside of school when I was younger. If my friends were any indication, it was highly likely that my teachers were leading interesting lives outside of school.

“But back to you and Niall.” Ana bumped her hip into mine. “Do you want to?”

I flashed back to Mehar going off on me two weeks ago about this very same thing.

“Obviously.” I blushed. Niall was so attractive and more and more--especially since we said we love each other--I've been thinking about it.

“Ohhhhhh,” Cleo sang. “I can't believe you've held out this long. I know he's not my type,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “but he's so classically handsome. Even I know that.”

“Well he told me he loved me two weeks ago,” I said.

“He said what?!” Cleo yelled again.

“And what did you say?” Ana’s voice was, surprisingly, just as loud as Cleo’s.

“I said it back,” I admit.

“You love him?” Cleo’s eyes widened as she looked over at me.

The store we were in, just wandering around, looking around for Christmas presents for Cleo and Ana to buy, was thankfully quite empty at the moment. My friends were not quiet and my cheeks were so red.

“Ruby!” Ana whisper-shouted, her eyes equally as wide as Cleo’s. “This is huge!”

“It's like I don't know you,” Cleo said with a smile.

“Oh for fork sake.” I rolled my eyes.

“He seems so sweet,” Ana said, picking up a travel tea mug and inspecting it. “I really like him.”

“I know how he is with us,” Cleo said, “but how is he with you?”

“He's… he’s really amazing,” I said. “I mean, he cooks for me. He made curry for me. He asks me how my day was and is genuinely interested and I am genuinely interested in his. He likes to go out and explore with me, is willing to just go out and walk and kind of find the city again in a new way. He makes me laugh. I really enjoy spending time with him.”

Cleo was just staring at me, an unreadable face.

“I’m happy for you, Ruby,” Ana said, her eyes searching my face, too.

“Thanks.” I blushed even more.

Ana smiled and strode over to a section of the store that had kitschy things for smaller gifs and Cleo came around and slung her arm over my shoulder, her head close to mine.

“The look on your face,” Cleo said softly, “makes me happy.”

“What look?” I asked.

“The look on your face when you talk about him,” she explained. “I know we tease you two a lot, but you’re my sister, Ruby. As long as he makes you happy and keeps making that look appear on your face, then I'm all in.”

“Stop,” I groaned. “That's so cheesy.”

She started walking toward where Ana had wandered over to and with her arm around me I had no choice but to go along with her.

“It's true!” She defended herself. “I mean, just because I’m not exactly the poster child for stable relationships doesn't mean I don't want you to have one.” She picked up a sheet face mask and looked it over as she kept talking. “Besides, if you two split now the awkward levels in the group will be unbearable and I'm not ready to be the one trying to hold it all together.”

Ana snorted and covered her face with her hand.

“Sorry,” she apologised.

“You are so good at this pep talk or whatever this is,” I said sarcastically. “So how about we talk about your dating life. I mean, you did just bring it up.” I smiled sweetly at her and she groaned.

“Let's not.” She shook her head.

“No wait, didn't you have a date just this Thursday?” Ana asked knowing well that she did.

“I need to stop telling you guys things,” she complained.

“Well,” Ana looked on expectantly, “what happened?”

“Fine,” Cleo mumbled.

“Oh yay!” I chimed before she could start. She glared at me as she pulled her arm from around my shoulders and we separated.

“So we meet up at this bar and she seemed really cool. I mean, we’d interacted a bit through messages, but nothing too serious. Anyway, we were actually having a good time, she's funny and cute and I liked listening to her talk about all the rallies her group has hosted or supported.”

“So, what's wrong? Why did you groan? Why didn't you want to talk about it? What happened?” Ana fired off questions rapidly.

Cleo pretended to be distracted by an eraser shaped like an ice cream cone and shrugged.

“Nothing really, I just don't think we'll work out.” She worked out eventually, all nonchalant.

“Why not?” I asked.

“We just won't,” she said.

“Cleo.”

“Ana.”

“Cleo.” I smirked.

“Ugh, fine. Okay. Whatever. She said she didn't want to meet up when I asked about maybe going out again.”

Ana sucked in air through her teeth. I puckered my face.

“It's fine.” Cleo waved away our concern. “I'm amazing and if she doesn't want to go on a date with me again then that's her loss, not mine.”

“Still, that's a bummer,��� Ana said. I hadn't noticed but her basket was getting more and more full up on things from this section. It was a bit like the section of Target where everything is below five dollars and you don't realise you spent so much in the section, and Ana was taking so much that I knew what feeling she'd get when confronted with the bill later.

“Did she say why?” I asked.

“She said she just wasn't feeling it. Whatever ‘it’ is.”

“You'll find someone, Cleo,” Ana said optimistically. “I mean if Ruby can then you can.”

“I really wasn't that bad. I just had high standards.” I defended myself.

“High standards? Ruby, you were picky. The pickiest,” Cleo said. “Like, even for guys you slept with. You didn't have to be as emotionally connected with them, but you still had a mental checklist that you went through before agreeing to go home with them.”

“So?”

“So don't even get me started on just having high standards. Try impossible standards,” Cleo argued.

“Okay.” I brushed her words off. “I looked at myself, my qualities, and I assigned value to them and if I didn't find someone I think deserved that value, then I wasn't going to let them get it.”

“And Niall?” Cleo asked. “Does he deserve it?”

“Oh my gosh, you two are impossible.” I rolled my eyes.

“So yes?” Ana smirked.

“Shut up.”

“Definitely a yes,” Cleo agreed with Ana.

“You two are the worst. Why are we friends?”

“Because you're in your late twenties and you're too afraid to start over with new friends.” Cleo smiled sweetly.

“Ugh,” I groaned, “you're right. Can you imagine me starting over?”

“If you thought finding a boyfriend was hard…” Ana laughed as she trailed off.

“Oh my god, she would have like, surveys to fill out and checklists to go through and there would be friendship dates where she would be the one telling people she had a good time, but that she doesn't want to see them again.”

“You two are literally the worst,” I groaned.

“No, we’re not.” Cleo slung her arm back around my shoulder. “You just hate that we know you so well.”

“I really do.”

“Now c’mon, we should probably leave this store for another before Ana spends three months pay on face masks, decorative soaps, and colouring books for adults. Like, what does this store even specialize in?”

“I resent that,” Ana said before looking down at her basket. “But you're right, we should probably get out of here.”

Cleo and I burst into laughter and led the way to the front of the store so that Ana could have an intervention with her credit card.

“Not a forking word, Tomlinson,” Cleo practically growled.

“I wasn't going to say anything,” Louis said in that voice that told us all he clearly was dying to say something.

“Seriously, nothing from you,” Harry added.

Louis held up his hands, which were covered in flour, in surrender.

We were all over at his apartment, baking cookies and choosing drinks from the ever-pleasant array of mulled wine, hot chocolate, and some spiked, hot apple cider. Harry was in charge of making the mulled wine. Louis was doing all the baking, and we were each decorating our own selection of cookies while Louis tried his hardest not to critique or offer his assistance.

He was failing at that second bit.

He was rolling out the dough he had just hand mixed and gave me a look from where he stood at the island opposite me. I was happily seated on a stool watching Harry, Cleo, and Niall struggle to decorate while Ana sat at the table making a paper chain and Liam, beside her, cut out paper snowflakes. I was waiting for more cookies to come out before I decorated. I had access to cookies a la Louis every day--not that I ate them every day. Still, I figured I could wait while the others indulged.

Louis’ apartment was glowing with many, many strands of both multi-coloured and white twinkle lights. He had put the fireplace show loop on his television screen for what he called ‘ambience’ and he had strands of sparkly garland cross-crossing back and forth between the cabinets over our heads.

“I seriously underestimated how long cutting out snowflakes would take,” Liam moaned. His shoulders had slumped forward, caved in, over half an hour ago, but he was not willing to stop. It seemed he was trying to prove something to himself.

Ana nodded in agreement.

“Hard same,” she said as she measured even sections of paper to cut for her chain. The two of them were making enough decorations for each of us to bring some home and hang up.

Liam was looking up design tutorials on the internet to try and cut out while Ana was using all different colour papers to make the chains. She even brought her extra scrapbooking papers to include patterns and designs as some of the chain links. She was trying to cater each chain to each person.

“Want to trade and get constant criticism from Mr Professional Baker over here?” Cleo called over to us. Niall snorted at Louis’ frustrated sigh.

“On second thought I love cutting paper,” Ana called back.

“Want to take over for me, Ruby?” Louis asked.

I gave him a look.

“My phone’s ringing.” He nodded toward the phone lit up and perched on the counter next to the oven.

“How did you hear that over the music?” I asked as I hopped off my stool and came around while he wiped his hands on his apron. Harry was playing pop remixes of traditional Christmas songs at a very high volume.

“Honestly don't know.” Louis shrugged and walked out of the room as he answered his phone.

“Do you know what you're doing?” Niall asked as I washed my hands.

“It's just shortbread,” I said confidently, drying my hands and picking up the rolling pin. “It's not like he asked me to make a phyllo pastry from scratch.”

“Oh right,” Niall said sarcastically. “Because that's normal. That you know the difference. That you are capable of doing either one.”

Cleo and Harry laughed, Liam snorted and Ana just groaned as she taped another piece of paper together. She had a bandaid on each thumb already. The paper cuts were inevitable. I saw her bring her index finger up to her lips before I looked over at my boyfriend.

Niall winked at me as I started working the dough. I rolled my eyes at him and he smiled brightly. Once I was happy with the dough I picked out cutters and started making tree, snowflake, and candy cane shapes.

I was relatively quiet, only piping up when I felt my input was needed, really just enjoying the conversations going on around me. Ana now had bandaids on three fingers and Liam had joined her club and had one on his left thumb as well, now.

I quite enjoyed observing Niall and everyone else interact. My friends were absolutely lovely and, in truth, the funniest people I'd ever met. We were constantly laughing, everything was funny to us, and it wasn't just the alcohol we were drinking either.

It was weird. I never celebrated Christmas when I was growing up, but being here with my friends baking cookies and listening to Christmas songs was something I couldn't imagine not doing. Plus, my friends were very good at keeping things neutral. None of the cookie shapes were explicitly Christmas themed, rather they were winter shapes, and aside from the music--some of which I actually rather enjoyed--there really weren't any mentions of the holiday.

It was just the group of us together baking, crafting, and boozing. It was my literal definition of happiness.

Once all of the shapes I’d cut out were on a tray and baking in the oven, I started rolling the rest of the dough out again to make as many shapes from the excess as I could. As I sprinkled flour on the rolling pin, Niall spoke up again about my baking.

“How much do you actually know how to do?” He asked me.

“Most of my knowledge is from Louis and I binging Bake Off episodes and him explaining everything to me while we watch. I only really know--and can put into practice--a few techniques,” I explained.

“You look like you really know what you're doing,” Niall said.

“It's all about the confidence,” Louis said as he stepped back into the kitchen. “Our girl Ruby here knows more than she lets on, but she mostly just has the confidence to make it seem like she's got it even when she doesn't.”

“What's the most impressive bake she's done?” Harry asked now, his cheeks flushed pink from all the mulled wine he'd been putting away. His curls falling around his face glow under the lights like a halo.

“Nothing too special,” I said with a shrug

“Viennese Whirls,” Louis said at the same time as me.

“What rolls?” Ana asked over her shoulder.

“Viennese,” I said.

“Whirls,” Louis corrected. “You have to make the cookies, a buttercream, and a jam and then sandwich them all together,” he explained to their confused faces.

“Will you make them for us one day?” Harry asked.

“No.” I shook my head as I finished rolling out the remaining dough and let Louis take back over. I started in on doing the dishes that we’d managed to amass throughout the night.

Cleo sidled up beside me to wash her hands, but I knew she was just using it as an excuse to come over to whisper to me.

“He has not taken his eyes off of you all night,” she said.

“Shut up.” I peaked over my shoulder at him. He was laughing at something Liam had said that I'd missed with Cleo talking. I blushed as his shoulders flexed when he leaned back over his plate to get back to icing his batch of cookies.

“Hey, I'm sorry about that dating app girl, by the way-”

“No.” Cleo cut me off and shook her head. “No, please don't apologize. It just didn't work out. That happens sometimes.” She shrugged.

“I know, I just hate it for you.” I made a face.

“Don't.” Cleo shook her head again.

“But-”

“No,” she said as she dried her hands on her apron.

“What about-”

“I'm not having it.”

“Fine,” I huffed.

“Finish the washing up so you can help me decorate,” Cleo said now as she made her way back over to her tray of cookies.

“You're falling behind, Cleo,” Louis teased.

“Fork. Off. Tomlinson.” Cleo glared for a moment before laughing. He just smiled that cheeky smile back at her.

“Now I've got surprises for you all,” Louis said as we slipped on coats and shoes in his doorway. We each had bags filled with our cookies and decorations. Harry had even bottled the leftover wine to take home with him.

“Oh god,” Ana sighed. “Louis stop. You do too much for us!”

Louis winked and stepped into the kitchen and we all looked around at each other in mild curiosity and exasperation. Louis was always doing things like this. I knew he went over the top when it came to working, but once we became friends I was quick to realize he was over the top with his friends as well.

When Louis came back into the tight and packed hallway he had three bakery boxes in his hands and handed one to Liam, one to Harry, and one to Ana before he disappeared again and came back with three more boxes.

We all knew what the bakery boxes meant. Ana peaked into hers and squealed. When Harry and Liam each opened theirs they tried to hide their excitement, but they didn't do very good jobs at it. Harry was beaming and Liam smirked down at his feet as he closed his box back up.

This wasn't the first time Louis had made our favourite treats for us. He did it for Friendsgiving last year on top of everything he did in the bakery that week. When I found out he’d done it by sacrificing sleep and sanity, I chastised him heavily.

Once Louis handed Cleo her box she didn't wait. She opened it immediately and leapt over to hug Louis. Which was difficult given that both of them had boxes in their hands.

“Jesus,” Louis laughed as he did his best to hug her back. Over her shoulder, he spoke to Ana. “And it really wasn't that much, Ana. Don't worry.”

Ana kissed his cheek in appreciation once Cleo had released Louis from her awkward hug. Knowing Ana, it was probably a bunch of mini custard tarts that he'd baked for her. Liam and Harry each gave Louis a pat on the back.

“Love you, Louis,” Cleo called as she shuffled the rest of the group out and shut the door behind herself before he could even respond. It was just me and Niall left with Louis, now.

“Ruby.” Louis handed me my box. I peeked inside and gasped. It was my favourite bake of his. It was something he only did on special occasions: an apricot couronne. It was, without a doubt, my favourite treat and he rarely ever made it because it was a lot of effort for not a lot of monetary reward in terms of bakery revenue.

“You've been my rock all year, doing such amazing work and I really appreciate it. I know,” he smiled, “that I'm not always the easiest person to work with. I also know that this doesn't make up for it all, but I love you, Ruby and I wanted to do something nice.”

I rolled my eyes to keep from getting emotional but I smiled at him and hugged him just the same.

“I love you too, you ridiculously extra human,” I said. “I appreciate this so much.”

“Anything for you, love,” he said before pulling back and handing Niall his box.

“I purposefully kept yours for last, Horan,” Louis said.

Niall was making a face, trying to hold himself back, and I knew he already knew what was inside, but he looked anyway. He shut the box and handed it to me quickly before he gave Louis a watery smile and hugged his friend tightly to him.

“I know the holidays are hard, and I was going to wait until Christmas day when you came over, but I figured I could always make another batch,” Louis was saying as he pulled out of the hug, his own eyes watery. “Thanks for coming back, though, Neil. I've missed you.”

“Thanks, Tommo,” Niall said and he took a deep breath, pulling himself together. I handed him his box back.

“I'll see you Monday for the half day, Ruby,” Louis said to me. We always worked Christmas Eve. “You're coming with me out to the suburbs, right?” I nodded. “Let me know when you get home!” He called out to each of us as we stepped out into the cold.

“What have you got?” Niall asked me as he took my free hand in his and we headed off toward the Chicago red line stop.

“It's called apricot couronne,” I said and laughed when he gave me a confused face. “It's kind of like a sweet bun but it's been made into one big ring.”

“Ah.” He nodded, pretending he understood anything I was saying. I could tell he was still confused, but I smiled at him.

“What about you? What did you get?”

“Chelsea buns,” he said quietly.

It took me a second, but I flashed back to a night four months ago when Niall and I had been walking to the train station together and he had told me that Louis always made Chelsea buns for him when he was homesick. That they reminded him of his dad.

I didn't say anything. Instead, I just squeezed his hand tightly in mine and leaned into him a bit. He squeezed my hand back as we descended the stairs before we each pulled away to get out our Ventra cards.

The silence was comfortable as we re-joined our hands and headed down to the platform. I just kept thinking about what Louis had done by baking the specific treat for Niall.

He knew it would remind him of home, remind him of his dad in a good way. He knew around the holidays it must be hard for Niall. Greg's got his own family now to celebrate and create new traditions with, but Niall was alone. The fact that Louis had baked the Chelsea buns and invited Niall over for Christmas dinner on Tuesday was making my heart swell with love and respect for my friend. I knew how much it meant to Niall.

It was pretty late, nearing midnight, but the platform was still quite busy. I guess with it being the last Saturday before Christmas, and us being close enough to the Mag Mile, it meant that everyone who was out shopping until the stores closed was now trying to get home from one of two stations. I imagined the Grand station was even worse off than we were here.

“You should come to mine tonight,” Niall said suddenly from beside me. My head had been leaning on his arm, but as the train pulled in I lifted it and looked him in the eyes. I knew what he meant. He didn’t have to say it. There was no pressure. There was no guilting me into it. It was just a suggestion.

“Okay.”

His lip quirked up a bit on the left side and he registered my words. The small smirk made my tummy flutter.

“Okay,” he said back.

It was a cold and bitter walk back to his, even if it was only two blocks from the train station. I could feel my nose and cheeks burning, could feel the wind slice through me. Once the two of us reached his apartment building we both sighed in relief as we defrosted in the elevator. I leaned against his side as we rode up, using his body heat to help warm me back to a normal temperature.

“D’you want anything? Tea or coffee or something?” Niall asked as he helped me out of my jacket once we had stepped inside his cosy little home.

I slipped my shoes off as he took both of our bakery boxes into the kitchen. He plugged in one of his strands of twinkle lights while he was there.

“No, I'm good.” I shook my head and turned to face him as he came back over to me. He looked positively gorgeous in the low glow of the lights, his hair a soft gold colour, his eyes shining, his features half enlightened as he came up to me.

“D’you want anything else?” He asked me, his voice soft.

Slowly, I shook my head and in the glow, I reached up and ran a hand through his soft hair. My other hand reached for his shirt and I pulled him closer to me. He smiled and brought both hands up to cup my face before he agonizingly slowly leaned down and kissed me.

He moved his lips languidly against mine as we stood together in his front entryway. He trailed one of his hands down to wrap around my waist and pull me closer until our bodies aligned.

I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t sure if I should have been. It had been years since I slept with someone and it meant something. I wasn’t my sister, but for the most part, I did enjoy one night stands. They were simple.

This was different though. I knew it was. From the moment Niall told me he wanted to try this, us, I knew we were going to be different together. I trusted him and he trusted me. He’d proven that when he told me about his dad three weeks ago. I felt guilty for not telling him about my incident, the one that was still, still giving me nightmares, but I was holding steadfast on my decision not to tell anyone. It had worked for me so far, right? Why mess with what was a good thing?

So when Niall asked me over tonight I didn’t feel anxious or nervous or worried about anything. Instead, I felt calm. It felt like all of my muscles had relaxed when he asked as if it was an ah-ha moment. Like my body was saying, ‘Yes, this is what you’re supposed to do. This is what is supposed to happen.’ I was excited, sure, and I felt that energy in every nerve ending within my body, but it felt good. It felt natural.

I loved Niall. I loved the way he made me feel emotionally. He was always there when I needed him and he never backed down when I told him about bad days. Once, on a day when a vendor had been particularly mean and hostile toward me, he even showed up at my door with my favourite tea from the cafe down the street and an offer for a shoulder massage. That turned into a really good day for me.

I also loved listening to him talk about his job and what he did every day. It wasn’t a chore to listen to him. When he talked he wove stories together, painted pictures of what had happened and made every little bit of his life as personable as possible. I just wanted to know more and more and hear more and more.

I had never before been so invested in a boyfriend’s life before now, but with Niall, I genuinely wanted to listen to him talk for hours and found myself interested in what he was saying. And it wasn’t just because of his accent. I mean, it helped, but the tone of his voice, the soft timber of it, melted something inside me and calmed me to my core. It felt like his voice was wrapping me up in a soft blanket and swaddling me into contentment.

Everything about this moment between us just felt right. It felt like the universe had aligned so that all roads led me to right here, right now with Niall. If I had been the kind of girl to keep a dream journal when I was younger, I probably would’ve dreamt up a moment like this.

The difference was that being here, in this moment, I knew that not even my imagination could have conjured up something so perfect. Between the man currently kissing me and my friends, between being here in Chicago and my job, there was no way I could have planned this, even if I had tried.

I felt my certainty of this situation, my situation, in the air around me like electricity. It was a current that was flowing through the air and I let it surround me, enveloping me whole and awakening my consciousness, raising it to levels it had never been before. I was so fully aware of what was happening. Every breath either of us took, every moan, each sound of hands grasping against clothes, the warmth of his skin, the glow of the lights against my closed… each of my senses was working overtime to take every little minute detail of this encounter in and commit it to memory.

Niall smirked into the kiss and backed me up until my body hit the wall, pinned there as his hand around my waist came to rest on my hip, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt and just like always, when I gasped at his touch on my skin he took advantage and pulled my bottom lip between his teeth, sending a shudder down my spine.

I brought my hands up to his collar and began unbuttoning his shirt as our kiss deepened. Suddenly I was hot all over and my fumbling, shaky fingers were not moving as quickly as I wanted them to. I was halfway down the shirt when Niall pulled back. He licked his lips as he looked down at me.

Even in the low light, I could tell that his bright blue eyes had darkened, that his pupils had blown out and the sight of it stirred something in me. We were both breathing heavy. I could feel my flush all the way down my neck and knew that Niall would be coloured red as well. His lips, those lips that could make me forget reality, were swollen and I bit my own lip just looking at him. He was gorgeous.

“C’mere,” he breathed and before I could open my mouth to ask what he meant, he leaned down a bit and with his hands under my thighs, he lifted me up. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his waist to stabilize myself before he reattached his lips to mine and carried me to his bedroom.

He placed me down gently, and then sort of fell on top of me with a laugh. I smiled before I leaned up and kissed him, hard. I brought my hands back between us, about to get back to work on finishing the job of removing his shirt but he had other priorities. In one swift movement, he brought the hand that wasn’t holding himself up above me to my waist and broke our kiss to lift my shirt over my head and throw it to the floor.

He was leaning back on his knees above me and he smirked as he finished undoing the last three buttons and tossed his own shirt aside. I could see his eyes roaming over my body and I felt no sense of unease or discomfort, made no attempt to hide the scar on my left hip from where I'd fallen off my bike when I was little. I didn't feel the need to hide it.

I let my eyes trail over him, from his broad shoulders down to his slim waist and bit my lip again as my hands followed in my eyes’ path. He shivered under my touch and ran a hand through his hair, putting it into a state of even more disarray. I smiled at that.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice soft.

“With you, I am.” I nodded.

I watched as his features shifted, his eyes widened and his jaw twitched before he brought himself back down to me and kissed me with passion, like it was the first and last time he ever would. There was so much in just that kiss that it was almost overwhelming, but it was too good to let myself break away.

Instead what I did was lose myself in that moment with Niall.

[avelera]

Some next day thoughts about Thor 3: Ragnarok:

(cut for spoilers)

- At first I was a little jarred by the ending’s abruptness. But then I thought about it a bit more. Yes, as a movie ending, I still think it’s a bit too abrupt, I would have liked 5-10 more minutes to cover some of the dangling plotlines I’ll discuss further down. But then I realized that with all the Marvel movies out there, they’re likely going to be binge watched. So this format makes sense when you realize that this movie is only going to end there for about 1 year in its lifecycle. For the rest of its existence, viewers are just going to immediately go to or cue up either Black Panther or Infinity War, so it’s actually more like a very long TV or Netflix episode than a standalone movie in the traditional sense.

Nevertheless, some things I would like to have seen more resolution are:

- Bruce - They made a pretty big deal of the fact that if he ever switched back to the Hulk again, Bruce Banner may never come back. Now, most likely it’s not a dark enough movie series for that to be true. But still, the fact it was never brought up again after he transformed nags at me, I would have liked to see some concern from Thor & his crew over whether Banner is ok. Though I suppose some of that could be explained by Valkyrie knowing Hulk better, Thor “preferring” Hulk, and the fact that Hulk has now had enough time out in the world to actually be quite stable. It almost implies that Hulk was an infant, or an overly-caged animal so his unmanageability was purely because he wasn’t getting enough time to grow up or exercise. That being said, you’d think Loki would be a little more freaked out. And dammit, I’m worried for Bruce.

- Loki - Has shown a pathological inability to play well with others, pretty much since he learned he was adopted and from the stories of Thor 3 even before that. He is the ultimate little shit. The fact that he was shown peacefully going along with the good guys for even 5 minutes without stabbing Thor again or just causing mischief or fucking off from there gave me a weird feeling of cognitive dissonance. Like, this status quo has already lasted 5 minutes without someone actively trying to kill them, no way Loki is this patient. Then again, this was somewhat resolved by the post-credit scene of the other big ship appearing, since Loki will sometimes go along with things if a team up is required for survival, at least until he figures out how to join the other side.

Some other thoughts:

- Apparently Asgard has fewer people in it than your average shopping mall? Also none of them have the same superpowers as their royal or valkyrie elites? Apparently it is an anime land where if you don’t have a cool character design you don’t have powers, sorry guys, you’re all cannon fodder with as little ability to defend yourself as the average human and maybe less considering you have advanced magic and science sometimes but most of the time you don’t even have guns.

- Hela looks hella like Loki. I’m beginning to wonder if Thor is the adopted one here. Also wondering if, in a more serious moment, what impact Hela having once been Odin’s favorite child would have on Loki given their similarities? Some reflection by him on that point would be interesting.

- Also, wtf, are they gods, are they random aliens with delusions of grandeur, how do they embody concepts...? Thor’s lighting powers were SICK AS HELL AND I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF THAT FIGHT AND HOLY SHIT HE LOOKS AMAZING WITH THE ONE EYE GODDAMN but I’m just really confused from a lore/cosmology angle of what the fuck Asgardians are in the larger cosmos and as relates to Earth.

Some other good/GREAT things about the movie:

- Seeing that level of diversity was such a fucking relief like I didn’t need to brace myself or roll my eyes whenever anyone who wasn’t the Designated POC was shown as always white and usually male, it was actually wonderfully diverse and awesome wow thank you Taika. 

- (A little mad though that we didn’t get to see the Valkyrie bisexual scene, Disney is still really bad with dealing with LGBTQA+ stuff and this is another reason I fear the consolidation of all IP under The Mouse)

- Anyway, just in general, the directing, holy shit Taika Waititi is a master. 

- Like, the movie was 95% laughs and it’s really hard to transition an audience that was just laughing its asses off to a serious moment but every single serious moment hit like a punch in the gut. Like immediately. Holy shit. Odin’s death, Valkyrie’s flashback, the tiny micro-expressions of Loki and Thor dancing around what they really mean to each other these days, Banner’s identity crisis... my only complaint about any of those is that they didn’t last a little longer, but they were so efficiently done that I can’t really be mad about that. Their brevity matched the pacing of the film, and it’s only my fangirl heart that would have loved some long lingering over all the horrible Feels everyone is going through. Ah well, that’s what fanfic is for.

- That being said, it did feel like there was a couple moments and themes that could have used a little more attention, though the complaint here is minor. There is some serious fridge horror in Banner losing 2 years of his life. What about the people he killed under Hulk’s influence? What about the feeling he’s going to lose himself forever if he ever changes again, and him doing it anyway to help his friends? That was one theme that felt a little under served to me given the seriousness of the implications. 

- Hela was amazing omg. Like, it is hard to introduce a new villain that’s just magically better than everyone at everything and is also a stone cold badass woman. Somehow, somehow they managed it most likely through the immortal talent of Cate Blanchett. She was genuinely terrifying and genuinely felt like a member of their family, unlike some missing family member villains who just feel tacked on. 

- Though I will say I was a little surprised by the reluctant villainy of Karl Urban’s character. I expected him to be a more willing ally of Hela, his story was interesting in how he was basically just an opportunistic but otherwise loyal Asgardian trying to survive and I could have used a few more minutes of focus on him just to sort of pull his story together as more than just someone for Hela to talk to while shit is going down.

- Btw, SPEAKING OF HELA I’ve been saying for AGES that we should be reexamining what Thor being “worthy” is all about because it’s not necessarily the modern concept of good vs. evil. Given that Odin slaughtered his way across 9 realms then turned on the child who helped gain it for him, being “worthy” could literally just mean “able to kill the largest number of people efficiently” according to Odin.

- Uh, do any of our heroes have their powers anymore if they drew them from Asgard which is now a pile of rubble?

- But OMG WE’RE GETTING ASGARD ON EARTH YEEEESSSSSSS. Ok so one of my number one writerly influences, J. Michael Straczynski who also wrote Babylon 5 and Sense8, wrote a Thor comic about Asgard being reestablished on Earth and IT IS HILARIOUS AND WONDERFUL GUYS I am SO EXCITED to see Asgard planted in the middle of the goddamn MIDWEST this is going to be GREAT. Also Dr. Strange must be losing his shit right now HE ASKED THEM TO PLEASE LEAVE NOT BRING THEIR WHOLE PLANET HERE

- Oh, and on a total badwrong side note, I still ship the fuck out of Thor and Loki and I am sorry. I hate incest in general, blech, as a plot device but Loki definitely does not see Thor as a brother also they’re kinda not even human so for some reason that sneaks by my radar. But I’d dearly love to see some Thorki where they’re as snarky and antagonistic and sort of tragically doomed to always be messing with one another as was in Thor 3, and not like... wide-eyed tragic uke Loki or some such (not that that isn’t valid for writers to explore, I just DESPERATELY want some obnoxious-conniving-little-shit Loki and exasperated but actually able to keep the upper hand and occasionally tragically upset and annoyed that Loki just can’t stop being such a conniving little shit for five minutes and sit at the dinner table like a normal person goddamnit why can’t i quit you Thor... just saying). 

Honestly, that movie was just so much fucking fun, I need to see it again.

[onceandfuturekiki]

I just finished season one of The Man in the High Castle (general thoughts strictly on the narrative: weird pacing, weird character development), and the whole time I was watching it I had a thought in the back of my mind. During a discussion about HBO’s upcoming series Confederate, someone asked why white people liked the idea of these sort of “alternate histories” where the oppressive, bigoted side won and took power over the US.

I think I might have figured it out.

White people want to see themselves as the saviors of the oppressed. Specifically, “ordinary” white gentile people.

In The Man in the High Castle, much of the story is built around the people resisting the Nazis and Japanese control of the US (the Nazis took the east coast and midwest, the Japanese took the Pacific states, and the area in and around the Rocky Mountains is a sort of lawless “neutral zone”). But is this resistance made up of anyone who is actually being oppressed, or in real danger of being oppressed? Not really. There’s one black man, and eventually one of the main characters whose grandfather was Jewish gets wrapped up in the Resistance stuff, but for the most part, the characters we see working in the Resistance are middle class white gentile people.

Now, there might be something to explore there, the potential of an idea about how the Reistance is made of white gentiles because they’re the ones who have the luxury of doing such a thing, where surviving minorities and Jewish people would be in far too much danger of exposure. But that’s not an idea that is ever explored. Instead, the heroes of this story are, for the most part, not the genuinely marginalized people who would be in the most danger in a world like this, but the white gentile people who, while living in basically an occupied dictatorship, are pretty privileged, at least in as far as if they follow the rules they don’t have to be worried about being killed for simply existing.

“But white people already cast themselves as the heroes of these wars” you might say. But I think that the stories history tells about the white US/England/etc. victory over oppression are little different than what’s happening here. The military victory is one relatively removed from the middle class. Those are victories driven by politicians and generals and people far away. It doesn’t necessarily satisfy the need of the white middle class to see themselves as the saviors of the oppressed.

I also think, at least in the case of The Man in the High Castle, there’s something to be said about casting white gentile people as the ones being oppressed. Because of Nazi race and eugenics policies, a 1960s US under Nazi rule (and Japenese rule that conforms to Nazi policies) would have far fewer Jewish, queer, disabled, etc. people, leaving white gentile Americans as the ones being oppressed, which probably appeals very much to the privileged middle class white people who like to see themselves as being the most oppressed. I don’t know if this is something that would apply to Confederate, as the point of the South in the war was slavery rather than extermination. I guess we’ll see when the show comes out.

I don’t even know what to say about the storylines about main Nazi characters John Smith and Joe Blake. The former is the usual “villain who’s bad but not AS bad because there are villains who are worse thing”, and while they’ve introduced some interesting ideas, like Smith actually being confronted with the Nazi’s oppressive policies have an impact on him and his family when his son becomes ill, requiring euthanization, I’m not sure how I feel about the “complex, sympathetic villain” thing being applied to a Nazi character in the current political climate, especially when that character shows no indication of actually having a change of heart. Joe’s change of heart has some problems of misogyny attached that are completely independent from from these other issues (changing because of a woman, therefor placing the responsibility of his character development on the woman), but I’m also not really comfortable with the attempts to make the audience sympathize with him by pulling the whole “he’s not like the other Nazis” thing, especially when they’re kind of vague about his initial motivation.

The sad thing is, considering the state of things in the real world, this idea could have been taken and made into a really powerful story that comments on what’s happening in the world right now. But it’s way too centered on whiteness and it misses any opportunity to actually do any good. 

I do think I’ll give season 2 a go because I’m interested in some of the storylines, but man, it need to fix how tone deaf it is.

[930club]

9:30 INTERVIEW: PHOX

The announcement of a (potential) final tour is always bittersweet, especially when it comes from a band as magical as PHOX. With just one full-length album out, PHOX has won the hearts of musical tastemakers across the globe, including musician and producer Bon Iver, NPR’s Bob Boilen, and the curators of Newport Folk Festival. As the band prepares to grace the 9:30 stage for what may be the last time, Monica Martin, the lead vocalist and songwriter, was kind enough to answer a few questions about future plans, combating stage-fright, and social justice.

Helen Hennessey [9:30 Club]: In your “farewell for now” Facebook post, you mention wanting to get out of Baraboo, but I also get the sense that you all have a massive amount of hometown pride. How would you describe your relationship with the city? 

Monica Martin [PHOX]: First things first, the name Helen Hennessey is so f**king slick. Good on your parents.

Yeah! So our break isn’t really due to that, as we’ve been living in different spots for a while now, but to answer the latter half of the question: for some members of PHOX, Baraboo is nostalgic and their families are there! For others, the rural midwest’s more narrow-minded undercurrent can be suffocating. So it's bittersweet.

Matteo, you and Zach did the music for The Dam Keeper, a short Pixar film. How was that experience? Is it a field any of you want to explore more during your indefinite hiatus?

Matteo Roberts [PHOX]: Working on The Dam Keeper was a total creative dream. Not unlike our experience with PHOX, the whole project kind of landed in our somewhat unproven and inexperienced laps basically because we had amazing and daring friends that really liked what they heard and wanted to see what was possible. What began as a humble little personal project grew into a project requiring a studio, dozens of animators, and editors. Our little Garageband score ended up at Fantasy Studios, recorded with the Magik Magik Orchestra. It was an incredible experience peering into the animation world and the Pixar folks, who were very inspiring and genuine. We were very lucky to work with such young, aspiring professionals who set an awfully high bar for that crazy balance of productivity, objectivity, and kindness in a collaboration. 

The directors of that film actually left Pixar immediately after The Dam Keeper, and now have their own indie animation studio, Tonko House. In fact, immediately after this tour, Zach and I are going into production with Tonko House on a special Hulu Japan tv series loosely based on The Dam Keeper. So, not only would I give anything to score film again, it somehow is already happening again!

Besides the musical projects most of you are working on during the hiatus, are there any non-musical plans you want to share?

Monica: Matteo and his partner Adrianna bought a house outside of Chicago, and there are tentative plans to build a studio together! I think Davey is still flexing on his producing chops! But I suppose those both are still in the world of music. Ha! It seems clear there will be an element of music in everything we’re doing respectively moving forward. OH! I am hoping Matt puts out a graphic novel, his first outline is due on Valentine's Day. 

Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver) produced your premier, self-titled album. How did you guys connect? What was it like working with him?

Monica: Actually, Sweet Brian Fredrick Joseph who worked within April Base studios produced our record. It was so nice to have a voice outside of the band to help us with melodic and sonic decision making. When I was in the vocal booth I realized I should also pay him a fee for being my therapist, I unpacked so much about the songs while we recorded. It was very meaningful bond made for all of us.

The PHOX social media pages feature many calls to political action. Do you feel a sense of responsibility, being in a popular band, to spread those messages?

Monica: Yeah, I have no interest in lying to people about what I think is important regarding the social and political climate of the US. I wish I could float through days without thinking about it, but many times daily it’s made clear to me that there’s imbalance, fantasy hierarchy, and the complete disregard of the realities of the “other.” If I was born into the majority, I’d maybe peacefully and in ignorance be able to focus on gardening or something, but I happen to be at the intersection of several different minorities so I can’t currently live unscathed by America. I can only speak up and share my perspective and hope I encourage more people to consider life outside their own, and participate in dialogue that will at least get folks to shake up the rosily-skewed version of the US that’s been taught to them, that rids them of the capacity to take seriously the voice of someone outside their identity.  

I had a friend in the music industry tell me recently they don’t want to talk about political things on social media, because it might affect who cares about her music. This really hurt to hear, while at the same time I understand that people choose to do what best protects their livelihood. On the other hand, I don’t give a f**k if I fail to pander to homophobes or bigots any longer, and have a hard time respecting that logic… I mean, then are they really your fans? I have no interest in appealing to everyone and becoming no one, and I do believe it's the responsibility of artists, within their abilities without draining all emotional spirit, to find ways to open hearts of people who just haven’t had a different, more socially open, train of thought exposed to them. 

The last time you played 9:30, part of the show was dedicated to more intimate, stripped-down versions of some of your songs. Do you plan on doing that again at your upcoming Club show? What made you want to do that in the first place?

Monica: I do think we are! It was a cool feeling to play songs in bigger clubs like we did when they were being written with acoustic instruments in the house we all shared. It just gives another facet to the show -- I’ve always loved hearing stripped down versions at shows! 

Monica, you’ve mentioned having stage fright at a few of your shows. What have you done to get passed that, and do you have any advice for others dealing with that same fear?

Monica: I’m still struggling with severe anxiety, but with the help of a doctor and therapist, I’ve finally found myself on a more focused track to finding a sustainable way to soothe my spirit. PHOX’s 2 1/2 year run of near constant touring started with us hopping on a plane to Norway on the day of my dad’s funeral. I spent the entirety of that tour not processing that, which in ways I am only now better understanding put me on edge, had me self medicating/ drinking more to feel less, and amplified all of my depression.

My advice for people who have general stage fright is to remember that you could literally sh*t yourself on stage and you’d still wake up the next morning. And people would forget shortly thereafter. And life would go on. I can sometimes talk myself out of very dreadful thoughts by imagining myself sh*tting myself, and how little it would matter in the long run. And I laugh and carry on — unless I’m being dragged into the panic void, and that leads me to advice for people with horrible racing thoughts, heart palpitations, and tunnel vision panic attacks: if you can afford it, or have insurance, see someone. Find a support group, if not in your town, find them online. Do everything you can to calm your atmosphere. Drink holy basil tea, drink kava root tea. Breathe deep and give yourself all the space you need. This was really hard for me for layered reasons I won't get into here, try and shelf your cynicism and do yoga. I know. I know. And if you still feel sh*tty, and natural approaches don't aid you, really try and process how you feel about potentially going on medication, outside of the stigmas you've been taught about mental illness. Talk to someone. You can feel better. xoxo.

You all knew each other for a long time before forming PHOX. Do you think your familiarity made it harder or easier to work together?

Monica: We had varying levels of closeness when we all moved into that house five years ago, so I think it was more-so the fact that we all had a "hands on deck" attitude, and from that bred great synergy. 

During your time so far as a band, you guys have done things like play Newport Folk Festival, have a Tiny Desk Concert, and open for some pretty high-profile acts. What was it like getting those calls? Is there a specific moment that stands out to you?  

Monica: Every time you get asked to participate in such things, I think there’s always a minute where you short-circuit when the news hits your ear, and then you jump for joy, then the fear creeps in, then you undulate between the joy and the fear, and then it smoothes out to a nice even-keeled bliss. HA! At least for me. I feel like Tiny Desk Concert was huge heartswell for us, iTunes Festival, Conan, traveling overseas 5+ times, I mean, everything! I would have never thought. It all feels so important, forgive the cliche, but the fact that anyone was moved by something we made together is an incredible thing. 

-Helen Hennessey 

Send PHOX off at 9:30 Club on January 25.

[viralhottopics]

Future Sex by Emily Witt review is another era of free love over?

Single female, 30, seeks pornography, hook-ups and sex online a curious participant-observer finds a new age of sexual liberation under threat

For the last few years, Emily Witt has been dispatching gripping, keenly strange field reports from the frontiers of contemporary desire. A curious, if cautious participant-observer, she has attended orgies, inhaled nitrous oxide with polyamorists and watched college students in the midwest broadcast their fantasies via webcams, painstakingly assembling a luminous, flickering portrait of human (hetero)sexuality in the age of the internet.

Witts desire to chart new species of sexual behaviour followed hard on the heels of a breakup, an alarming rupture in what shed previously conceived to be a natural, seamless progression from monogamous dating to the permanent station of marriage. Abruptly and unhappily single at the age of 30, she was forced to confront the troubling possibility that love is not something you can ordain or engineer; worse, that it might not be attainable at all.

What if the interim behaviours in which she and her peers had been engaging the hook-ups with friends, the undating, the casual, carefully meaningless encounters were not the aperitif, but the main event? We were souls, she says, flitting through limbo, piling up against one another like dried leaves, awaiting the brass trumpets and wedding bells of the eschaton. Perhaps the future wasnt coming; perhaps coming in the present could be its own reward.

There are many reasons why a straight woman approaching middle age might shy from promiscuous sexual experiment, not least the chlamydia clinic in which Witt finds herself after a nocturnal dalliance produces unwanted consequences. The zipless fuck, as Erica Jong dubbed it in her 1973 novel Fear of Flying, was made plausible by the invention of the contraceptive pill, yet remains perennially hampered by fears of pregnancy, violence and disease, as well as more subtle cultural inhibitors.

Witt is beset by a kind of magical thinking that finds an inverse relationship between number of partners and likelihood of finding love, a nagging puritanism that supposes pleasure will be punished, abstinence rewarded. Elizabeth, her polyamorous interlocutor, had to consciously resist the inhibition of knowing her sex life affected the way she was viewed in her professional life. Monogamy was assimilated into notions of leadership and competence; other sexual choices came with loss of authority, writes Witt.

Little wonder weve become so dependent on computers for organising and enabling our erotic lives, with their promise of anonymity, their marvellous ability to mediate between bodies, displaying, connecting and transmitting at will. The internet is a frictionless utopia for the polymorphously perverse, routing desires of every possible heft and size.

Witt became single in 2011, a few months before she purchased her first smartphone and a year before Tinder was invented. There was no better place that year for assessing how technology was facilitating new models of sexual behaviour than San Francisco, where the healthy, wealthy young employees of Google and Facebook were daily sculpting the future into being. The city just happened to be a synecdoche, Witt observes of her temporary home, where the post-1960s combination of computers and sexual diversity were especially concentrated.

The problem with internet dating, as she swiftly clocks, is that even the most sophisticated algorithms are hopeless at assessing physical attraction. Women are supposed to be put off by frankly sexual content, preferring instead the clean well-lighted room approach purveyed by the marriage markets of Match.com and OKCupid. But what if you decline the moral obligation of love; what if you want something wilder, darker or less inclined to permanence? Among the alternatives that Witt explores is the website Chaturbate, where anyone with access to a computer can play both exhibitionist and voyeur, like the pallid Edith, who strips while reading RD Laing and claims to be internet sexual, and wholly celibate in her non-cyber life.

A stronger stomach might be required when Witt attends the filming of an orgy for the BDSM website Public Disgrace, during which a young performer named Penny Pax is stripped and whipped before having rough sex in front of an audience of rowdy extras. Were there any moments of genuine pleasure, an incredulous Witt asks Pax as they huddle in a stairwell. She looked at me like I was crazy. Yeah. Like the whole thing! The whole thing.

There are feminists, from Andrea Dworkin on, who would allege this to be false consciousness, a Stockholm syndrome assimilation of a violently misogynist culture. On the other hand, there are feminists (Annie Sprinkle, say) who would applaud its honest acceptance of sexual diversity, the grand mystery of specific human arousal. Or, pleasingly, is Witts byword. She perpetually interrogates her received ideas, more interested in auditing than legislating possibilities.

Meanwhile in the Google canteen, a new breed of free love advocates were diligently hashing out the rules of their polyamorous adventures. Witt is an unusually immersive journalist, and her account of the shifting fortunes of a three-way relationship is beautifully alert to irony and tenderness. Whatever you might think of polyamory, its hard not to admire the sheer labour the shared Google docs, book groups and endless, wrangling conversations that sexual liberation entails.

This is, of course, free love 2.0. The original free love movement, which reached its zenith in the 1960s, fed by thinkers such as Wilhelm Reich, believed that in going beyond religious strictures a new kind of humanity would emerge: more peaceful, healthy and content thanks to their potent orgasms. Perhaps sexual experiment also birthed a new documentary form. The New Journalism, a movement to which Witt owes a significant stylistic debt, emerged at around the same time, energised by and quick to skewer the eccentricities, hypocrisies and bleak fallout of the free love era.

The New Journalists, a loose cohort that included Tom Wolfe, Joan Didion and Gay Talese, brought the exuberant techniques of the novel to bear on the non-fiction world. Like the affectless Didion in particular, Witt possesses an extraordinary knack for capturing the aesthetics of the moment: leathery-tan nudists twinkling at passers-by in the Castro, stone fruit season at Bi-Rite. Somewhere down in Palo Alto, Steve Jobs was on his deathbed, the white aura of battery light pulsing ever more faint. San Francisco, 2011: the Summer of Emotional Involvement.

The problem with the future is that it turns so quickly into the past. Its beginning to seem as if the sexually liberal era here envisaged as permanently secured might already be under siege; that sex in the Obama era could prove as vulnerable to the rise of the ultra-conservative right as Obamacare. In Britain, certainly, the curious reader will soon no longer be able to summon up the whipping posts of Public Disgrace and its ilk.

The digital economy bill, currently passing through the House of Lords, will ban non-conventional sexual acts from the internet, applying the same regulations as are currently applicable to DVDs. Never mind whether they involve mutually consenting adults: fisting, female ejaculation and menstrual blood must be banished, our communal erotic repository censored, just as the old fleshpots of New Yorks Soho and Times Square were cleaned up and colonised by well-lit Starbucks cafes.

But it isnt only governments that threaten the freedom of the imagination, the liberty of the sexual body. There was no industry of dresses and gift registries for the sexuality that interested me in those years, Witt writes towards the end of her adventures, and some part of the reason I wanted to document what free love might look like was to reveal shared experiences of the lives we were living that fell outside a happiness that could be bought or sold.

Sex, and especially sex that doesnt take culturally sanctioned forms, is here conceived as a way to escape the consumerist imperatives of late capitalism, to experience a kind of wildness and emotional connection that cant immediately be repurposed by ads, even if its grubby or depressing or actively risky. I know exactly what she means, and I want it, too. Amazing the price you have to pay for free love.

Olivia Laings latest book, The Lonely City, is published by Canongate.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2imFKqt

from Future Sex by Emily Witt review is another era of free love over?

[jacewilliams1]

Are pilots rediscovering how to travel by light airplane?

By long standing tradition, baseball players never talk to a pitcher in the middle of a perfect game—if everything is going well, why jinx it? The same mindset applies to pilots, who are often hesitant to acknowledge good news for fear of chasing it away. I’m going to violate that unwritten rule because I think it’s worth exploring an interesting development: general aviation is doing surprisingly well during the coronavirus pandemic.

If it feels like the traffic pattern is crowded and the flight school next door is busy, you’re not alone. ForeFlight reported piston airplane flying over the July 4 weekend (as tracked by their app) was up 10% on 2019, while turboprops were up 8%. AOPA reports that, after a major decline in March and April, members’ flying hours picked up significantly in June and July. Calls about financing are up too, as some pilots have decided this is the time to buy an airplane or finish a rating. This is hardly a revolution, but some GA airports are busier than airline hubs right now.

I’ve noticed the increase in activity on some of my recent trips, from the Southeast to the Midwest. A few weeks ago, I landed at Custer County Airport in South Dakota, a beautiful but remote landing strip close to Mt. Rushmore that was buzzing with activity. As I took advantage of some cheap self-serve fuel, another pilot wandered over to chat (from a very Covid-appropriate 10 feet). He was flying home to Denver in a Cessna 172 after visiting family in the area. A scenic two-hour flight in the Skyhawk was easier than a six-hour drive and safer than flying on an airline.

Two things are worth noting here. First, a lot of the strength is in light airplanes—as the 172 pilot illustrates, this isn’t just a business jet boom for billionaires escaping the city. And secondly, a lot of the activity is because people are really going places, not just practicing landings. Both of these are encouraging developments, because I believe traveling by light airplane is one of the most rewarding things you can do in life (it is the tagline for Air Facts, after all).

Public vs. Private

Some pilots may be breaking state-mandated health rules and behaving irresponsibly, but what I’ve seen so far is the opposite—pilots are using airplanes precisely because they allow for social distancing. This is part of a larger trend, as people around the world reevaluate how they get around, comparing the tradeoffs between public and private transportation.

Customers are voting with their wallets right now and airlines aren’t winning.

Public transportation is almost universally weak right now. Uber rides have declined by 75% almost overnight, the New York City subway is unusually quiet, and TSA screenings for airline passengers are down 70% from 2019 levels (although they are up noticeably from the bottom in April). While the risk of getting sick from an commercial flight appears to be low, passengers are voting with their wallets right now and airlines aren’t winning.

Private transportation, on the other hand, has seen renewed interest. Car sales in China are up 15% over last year as more commuters decide the hassle of traffic beats the risk of a bus ride during a pandemic. In America, you can’t hardly buy a bike or an RV right now because sales are so strong. Even house prices have risen, contrary to most predictions from late March, as people invest in their quarantine locations instead of concerts and restaurant meals.

General aviation certainly falls into that private category, and has benefited from the rapidly shifting social norms. Flying club members have found new value in their 1/12th ownership in a Cherokee. Airline pilots have taken early retirement or been furloughed, and they’re getting back into general aviation airplanes either for fun or for a new career. Million-milers have started to consider private aviation instead of United. And employees working from home might have just a bit more time to pursue a new activity like learning to fly. This renewed interest in aviation is not universal and it could easily fade away, but so far it seems genuine.

You don’t know what you have until you lose it, and over the last four months many Americans have realized how much they like to travel. Sure, some business trips are a waste of time and the three-hour layover at O’Hare is nobody’s idea of fun, but travel is a defining characteristic of our country. Visiting a customer five states away or taking the kids to the beach are relatively routine experiences in the 21st century, not some exotic idea from a 1930s science fiction magazine. When that easy travel went away this spring, people noticed.

A new type of travel?

In addition to how we’re traveling, where we’re traveling has also changed. With most foreign borders closed and cruise ships parked, national parks and lake houses have become 2020’s preferred destinations. For GA pilots, these are ideal places to fly—no need for 2000-mile airplane range and passports, just a duffel bag and a quick flight. 

I did a version of this in July and was thrilled with the results. I used a piston airplane to take my kids on a quick lake vacation, and with a convenient airport near my destination I could do it in a day, eliminating the need for hotel rooms and other travel logistics. I never would have tried this in a car, and the nearest airline airport was over an hour away. We never got closer than 20 feet to another person, and enjoyed every minute of it.

Many state parks still feature convenient airports.

In many ways, we’re rediscovering some great ideas from 50 years ago (heck, even drive-in movie theaters are making a comeback). While we’re mining the past, pilots should take inspiration from this time period, general aviation’s golden age. Flip through an Air Facts or Flying magazine from the 60s and 70s and you’ll see all kinds of interesting ads, some of which seem foreign in today’s world. One promoted a golf course with an airport nearby, using the catchy headline “Drop in for tee.” Oklahoma encouraged pilots to “try a flying vacation” and see their fabulous state lodges, five of which featured lighted airstrips. The message was clear: airplanes are for going places and having fun.

Some of those state park airports may be a little run down these days, but most are still around, making regional trips in the US convenient and fun. They’re part of a network of 5,000+ public airports, one of the crown jewels in America’s transportation infrastructure. 

It’s even possible that technology might allow for more relaxed schedules and easier flight planning for some of these new travelers. Need to stay a day longer because of bad weather? Zoom and cell phones mean many people can work remotely while waiting for the storms to move out.

Piston airplanes might have a role to play in business travel as well. While the Fortune 500 companies are using their business jets, smaller companies might appreciate the privacy and flexibility of a Cirrus or a Cessna 310. If people really leave big cities like New York or San Francisco due to remote working policies (a popular prediction right now that I’m a little skeptical of), workers could find themselves living much closer to a general aviation airport than before. It’s easier to start flight training in Manhattan, Kansas, than Manhattan Island. 

Encouraging new pilots

Of course to support real growth in general aviation flying, we’ll need to train new pilots. That will take a renewed commitment to flight training. In addition to ads about fly-in destinations, those aviation magazines from 50 years ago were also packed with encouragement for new pilots. Full page Cessna ads show the simple 150 and offer $5 intro lessons. Another one offers renters a convenient new option: “Lease-a-Plane offers America a new system in General Aviation. Now you can rent a plane as easily as you rent a car.”

Magazines from the 1960s and 70s were packed with ads for fly-in destinations.

Such ideas are unlikely to come back, but newer ones offer some hope. AOPA’s recent work to grow the number of flying clubs is starting to pay off, with over 1,000 groups in their database. These offer affordable flight training programs with a social infrastructure to keep new pilots engaged, and should be the first point of contact for many new pilots. The growth of the experimental airplane community means pilots can travel in comfort without spending $500,000 for a new airplane.

Another new technology might help pilots at the very earliest stage. Microsoft’s new Flight Simulator game, out this month, represents the first totally new simulator in years and looks simply amazing. It’s attracting a lot of attention, from the general public as well as aviation enthusiasts. I know Microsoft Flight Simulator was a critical step in my path to becoming a pilot, starting in the early 90s; perhaps the latest edition will hook the next generation while they’re spending more time at home.

Perspective

Of course I don’t really want to go back in time, and nostalgia can be crippling as well as inspiring. Leisure suits and high inflation can stay in the 70s. In aviation, I’d much rather have datalink weather and WAAS approaches than Flight Watch and NDBs. Other than fuel prices (which are 30% higher today than they were in 1980, adjusted for inflation), I agree with Richard Collins’s philosophy: “may the good old days never return.”

It’s also easy to overstate general aviation’s recent strength. There is still plenty of bad news in the world, whether it’s significant Covid-19 outbreaks or massive airline layoffs. A small bump in flight activity does not signal a return to the glory days. However, we shouldn’t bury our head in the sand either. In the wake of a once-in-a-lifetime public health crisis and economic collapse, the fact that our little corner of the aviation world has survived is worth celebrating. More importantly, it’s worth building on.

The post Are pilots rediscovering how to travel by light airplane? appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2020/08/are-pilots-rediscovering-how-to-travel-by-light-airplane/

[chrisoncinema]

The Year in Review: Top Ten Films of 2017

Well, we made it. We survived. Before getting into this list, I'd like to thank everyone who read, shared, or commented on one of my posts or videos this past year. It was a pretty monumental year for this blog and for my cinematic journey. I didn't go into 2017 with a plan to revive this blog but I'm happy I did. I ended up thinking about this very list for most of the year; giving me time to rediscover my love for movies and an excuse to watch way more movies than I otherwise would have. So let's get to the movies, shall we? This list is not a definitive, quantitative, or objective ranking of the films released this year. Rather, it is a rough sketch of the movies I enjoyed seeing the most. The movies that moved me, surprised me, or stuck with me. You can see my previous post for a listing of movies I missed and movies that didn't make it into my top ten. I hesitate to call these my ten "favorites" because, if you ask me in three months what my favorite movies from 2017 are, the list might look quite different. For today, though, I hope it provides something new, forgotten, or overlooked that you can take with you as we head into the new year. 10. It Comes At Night

In an apocalyptic near-future, a mixed-race family must protect their home and their health from foreign threats. Of all the horror movies I saw this year, It Comes at Night was the one I could never get out of my head. Whether director Trey Shults intended it or not, It Comes at Night became a meditation on many of the ills that plague America in 2017: from the failure of white saviors to a tribal and territorial fear of “the other.” What made the film feel special was its simplicity and focus. Shults was not interested in world-building or mythologizing. Without the visual formalism of The Killing of a Sacred Deer or the loaded narrative commentary found in Get Out and mother!, It Comes at Night is its own survival kit: stripped down to the bare essentials, without the fanfare or gloss of over-production. This is a movie with lace-up boots and dirt under its nails. A movie that, above all, feels like its about real characters who react uniquely to new conflicts and discoveries.

Joel Edgerton, whose face I admittedly often forget, gives one of his best performances. His family, played by Carmen Ejogo and Kelvin Harrison Jr. (who were both new to me) were standouts, and small parts by Riley Keough and Christopher Abbott (two of the greatest actors in the indie scene, Keough especially) round out the great cast. Throughout the movie I was reminded of Alien, another horror film that takes place in a claustrophobic environment, where it is just as interesting to watch all the characters converse as it is to see them get attacked by a giant space bug. Many people were let down by the absence of a horror they thought was implied in the title “It Comes at Night.” But, like Alien, they’re missing the trees for the forest. This is a human drama. What makes the film horrifying is its plausibility. Hell? Other people. What comes at night? Darkness, paranoia, emptiness. It doesn’t get scarier than that.

9. The Death of Louis XIV

Moving even smaller in scale, The Death of Louis XIV is a sad, funny, beautiful chamber-piece starring the one and only Jean-Pierre Léaud. Truthfully, a big part of what makes the film so enjoyable is the meta-narrative trip that comes with this casting. Léaud began his career at age 14 starring in one of the most influential films of the French New Wave, Francois Truffaut’s The 400 Blows. He is, quite literally, French cinema royalty and, though Léaud himself is only 73, this feels like his great swan song. As always, Léaud manages to be both funny and tragic; equal parts ornery and charming.

The film's lofty title may not seem like the most exciting or accessible subject matter but, while stuffiness abounds, there is simply too much to enjoy in this film to pass up and I’m shocked that more people aren’t talking about it. The cinematography is some of the best this year: every single shot looks like a candlelit oil painting. The blacks are endless, the reds are velvety, and the golds are radiant. Is the movie slow? Yes, absolutely. But I, for one, enjoyed drinking with the King, scheming with his advisers, and laughing at each new, ridiculous wig that appears on screen.

8. Lady Bird

As with every new work that seems to be receiving undue or hyperbolic praise, I was highly skeptical of Lady Bird before finally seeing it. So let’s start with all the ways I was right. This is a coming-of-age story and it contains all the usual suspects: a fast-talking, strong-willed protagonist who still has a lot to learn about how the world actually works; parents who just want the best for the protagonist who have trouble communicating with her and with each other; a quirky best friend who is briefly tossed aside while the protagonist tries to be popular; and a concluding event that reminds the protagonist of some little piece of wisdom that was dropped along the way. Despite all of this narrative predictability, there’s something undeniable about Lady Bird. It works because of the characters that writer/director Greta Gerwig has crafted. An incredibly gifted, funny performer in her own right, Gerwig understands that no relationship is black and white. The best scenes feature Saoirse Ronan’s titular Lady Bird and her mother, played by Laurie Metcalf. Though their relationship is often contentious, at a moment’s notice the two act like the best of friends. They are too similar to be compatible and yet it is this resemblance that keeps them together. If that’s not an accurate, human depiction of mother-daughter relationships, I don’t know what is. In the end, Lady Bird is endearing, warm, and human – genuinely funny and genuinely moving. Gerwig didn’t reinvent the coming-of-age dramedy, but she came close to perfecting it.

7. After the Storm

If you enjoyed the familial drama of Lady Bird, I highly recommend watching the criminally ignored Japanese film After the Storm. The movie centers on a dead-beat, divorced dad trying to reconnect with his young son and ex-wife – well, kind of trying. The film’s lead, Hiroshi Abe, is basically Gob Bluth from Arrested Development: he’s lazy and selfish but is able to skate by on his charm, social flexibility, and a bit of self-deprecation. Like Lady Bird, After the Storm is full of complex, three-dimensional characters, tenuous family dynamics, and lived-in wisdom that never feels hacky. Hirokazu Kore-eda shoots the film without pretension, keeping a careful eye on the little details of everyday life. It doesn’t have the pep of an American dramedy so many viewers might find their minds starting to wander but, like 2016’s Paterson or Kore-eda’s predecessor Yasujiro Ozu, After the Storm has a lot to offer if you’re in a receptive mood. Pair with tea and a rainy day (a monsoon, if you’ve got it).

6. Good Time

Good Time is a travelling carnival. It’s a fever-dream that feels familiar even though you never know exactly what you’re going to see. The music and lights are dizzying, the air is full of weed, sweat, and old cigarettes, and everyone is inexplicably dressed like it’s the 90s. Need I say more?

I didn’t know what to expect from Good Time having seen none of the Safdie Brothers’ earlier films, but I was intrigued by the trailer. The film did not disappoint. Beginning with a bank heist gone bad, Good Time is the story of two brothers played by Robert Pattinson and Benny Safdie. As many have noted, the film owes a lot to the 1970s cinema of Scorsese and Lumet but there’s an immediacy to the filming that feels unmistakably modern. Just when the gritty realism sinks in, the movie blasts into space thanks to a bold score from experimental producer Daniel Lopatin (aka Oneohtrix Point Never). It’s one of the best scores of the year, featuring a gut-wrenching, original song from Lopatin and Iggy Pop. The cinematography is equally manic: mid-winter greys mix with neon lights and vibrant reds. The Safdies keep their camera dangerously tight – detailing the desperation on a nearly-unrecognizable Robert Pattinson (and we’ll see him again before this list is over). Twilight? Never heard of it. You’re witnessing a movie star – a direct descendent of Pacino or De Niro. Good Time is grimy, thrilling, and occasionally very funny. Like all carnival rides, I went home feeling nauseous, head-pounding, and in need of a tetanus shot. 

5. Columbus

Columbus is a movie so personal to me that I can barely talk about it objectively – I kind of feel like I made it (but I can assure you I did not). The first feature by video essayist Koganada, Columbus is a movie about love, loss, and architecture so genuine it makes (500) Days of Summer look like the sloppy, insincere mess that it is. The film’s success is largely due to its two leads: Haley Lu Richardson, who I had never seen before but fell in love with immediately, and John Cho who is now, unarguably, a leading man. The third star of the film is modern architecture by the likes of Eliel and Eero Saarinen, I.M. Pei, and SOM.

Without giving away too much, Richardson’s Casey is a student who meets Cho’s Jin, a visitor to Columbus, Indiana: architectural mecca of the Midwest. Many of you don’t (and couldn’t) know that I went to school to study architecture. I, like Jin, skeptically engaged with bright, young minds like Casey and questioned what architecture really meant to culture, to a city, and to me. Why does architecture matter? That’s a question I’m still answering but I can tell you this: we need spaces of reflection, communion, and discourse. The best architecture provides that. Columbus is the proof. I’m so pleased that this film has made a number of year-end lists. It’s a little film about a simple story and, like the best architecture, I look forward to exploring it again.

4. Nocturama

Nocturama is perplexing, modern, and gripping from the first minute. Nocturama is the story of a small group of French radicals who plan a coordinated attack on Paris. Nocturama asks a lot of questions – Who are these people? How did they meet? Why did they choose to become terrorists? – but if you’re looking for answers, look elsewhere.

What makes Nocturamaso exciting is the immediate immersion in the intricacies of the plot. There is no Ocean’s Eleven-style voiceover guiding you through the plan, no diatribe or manifesto to take in, just the cold, hard act. Bertrand Bonello’s ensemble piece is a commentary on luxury, privilege, and the rebellious naiveté of youth. It’s also impossibly cool: our anti-heroes smoke, dance, and listen to pop music. They’re kids – just like the ones on your street, in your school, at your mall – and that’s what makes the film so challenging, scary, and dangerous. It’s easy to characterize terrorism as a foreign offense. Nocturama doesn’t want to be easy but if you’re not careful, it might seduce you. Nocturama lights a fuse and dares you to enjoy the flames. Either way, your palms will be sweating.

3. The Lost City of Z

I’ve been critical of James Gray’s big, melodramatic films in the past but with his most recent work, I finally got it. The Lost City of Z stars Charlie Hunnam – in what is far-and-away his best performance – as Percy Fawcett, a 20th century explorer searching the Amazon for the titular city of Z. It’s hard to describe exactly why this film works so well. Like the old epics of David Lean, we follow Fawcett from his humble beginnings as a promising, young military officer, we learn and struggle with him, we return with him, after his numerous expeditions, to see his family growing and changing.

The Lost City of Z offers a whole lot to take in and it’s a testament to the editing that this 141 minute voyage moves along as breezily as it does while also never feeling rushed. What helps keep the story going is breathtaking camera work by cinematographer Darius Khondji and a great cast that includes Sienna Miller, Robert Pattinson, Tom Holland, and Ian McDiarmid. Films like this don’t feel like they should exist anymore – The Lost City of Z is sprawling and beautiful but also quite smart: evoking questions of colonialism, masculinity, and the personal price of one’s work. It’s not perfect, but it’s a rare gem in a field of plastic.

2. Personal Shopper

Personal Shopper was one of the most unique theater-going experiences for me in 2017. It was a Wednesday evening when I spontaneously decided to drive half an hour to the only theater showing Olivier Assayas’ latest film. It was playing in a single auditorium – and a small one at that. I arrived early, as I always do, and waited for the few other moviegoers to trickle in. But they never did. And so I was treated to a personal screening of one of my favorite movies of the year. A movie that, rather fittingly, serves as a meditation for loneliness, isolation, and the vulnerability of predation.

Personal Shopper stars Kristen Stewart as a self-proclaimed medium trying to make contact with her deceased twin brother. Less of a horror film and more a dramatic character study, if you were ever doubtful of Stewart’s acting chops, this film should convince you. I was completely transfixed by her performance. She, and I say this without a hint of irony, is our James Dean. Sporting a leather jacket and a cool, androgynous demeanor, Stewart’s Maureen Cartwright is everyone who has ever slouched with hands stuffed deep in their pockets, anyone whose hands have shaken from an unexpected text message, anyone who’s had the eerie feeling of being watched by someone just out of reach. Personal Shopper is all about atmosphere: chilling, evocative, and sensual. I suppose I understand how people looking for plot-points found this film messy and inaccessible. As for me, though, I’ll be chasing the specter of that first screening. Going to the movies is a kind of séance and I’m thankful to Olivier Assayas for showing us a visionary Kristen Stewart.     

 1. Dunkirk

I know it’s basically a cliché to even talk about Christopher Nolan at this point, but this is where we find ourselves. NOLAN. BROS. FOREVER. Christopher Nolan doesn’t just make films as if each one is the last he’ll make. He makes films as if they’re the last film that will ever be made. Dunkirk is an absolute spectacle and it is, by far, Nolan’s best work to date.

As I’ve discussed before, Nolan came to prominence at the same time I was discovering film. I was in awe of The Dark Knight and Inception when they came out, but by the time The Dark Knight Rises and Interstellar were released, my fan-boy-dom had faded. Interstellar is a very good but very flawed movie. It wants so badly to capture the humanity of early Spielberg and the grandeur of Kubrick but, sadly, fails to reach either. Still, the best decision Nolan ever made was swapping out his longtime cinematographer Wally Pfister for Hoyte Van Hoytema. Van Hoytema, who has done great work with the likes of Tomas Alfredson and Spike Jonze, brought a much needed flair for richness to Nolan’s pragmatic sensibilities. With Dunkirk, finally, there is a rich screenplay to match.

It seems Nolan actually listened to the critics who, for years, decried his overly-expositional dialogue and choppy editing. Dunkirk, not unlike Kubrick’s 2001 is pure visual storytelling. The difference is that Nolan was still determined to tell an intimate, human story and, calling upon the cinema gods from Murnau to Hitchcock, he did it.

There was no cinematic experience more breathtaking this year than seeing Dunkirk in IMAX. The sound design is so fierce and the score is so relentless it felt like a deep tissue massage for my brain. I left the theater after each successive viewing feeling invigorated in a way no film has affected me before. Nolan has always tried to make films that could capture the attention and imagination of any viewer (that’s why it was so important for this film to have a PG-13 rating) and he finally did it. The structural experimentation that Nolan was known for from the start is used here to turn the entire film into one of his signature, cross-cut sequences: one long, thrilling crescendo. And he did it all, God bless him, in under two hours.

Nolan-mainstays Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy are as cool as they’ve ever been, and seasoned pros Mark Rylance and Kenneth Branagh bring much-needed warmth and pathos, but the film belongs to the new faces that Nolan introduces: Fionn Whitehead, Aneurin Barnard, Tom Glynn-Carney, Barry Keoghan, and, of course, Harry Styles. They are the young men who have history thrust upon them – dropped into a giant, dangerous world with the weight of a nation on their shoulders. And they fail. They fail their mission and, occasionally, they fail each other. They return home distraught, ashamed, and confused.

“All we did was survive,” they say.

“That’s enough.”

Perseverance is noble. Support is bravery. Survival is victory. That’s Dunkirk’s message. It’s the one we needed this year.

[assa-nisi-massa]

adminAfter Eisenhower — Jasmine Clark Explores the Impact of Military Culture on American Society

Hello Jasmine, thank you for this interview. What are your main interests as a photographer?

A photograph’s function as a ‘document’ or ‘evidence’ to mark a particular time, place, event, and/or context—political or emotional, objective or subjective. I use photographs as devices to articulate when words fail, which happens often; to help convey something I can’t verbalize.

Please introduce us to After Eisenhower.

The photographs are influenced by my upbringing in a United States Marine Corps community in Twentynine Palms, California. Protection of others, protection of the flag, and patriotism are the ideals that stick with me. However, I question military and its role in American life and my own. American culture is inseparable from military and religious identity: the iconography of these elements, like the American flag or the cross, are ubiquitous in American society. The project comes from my curiosity and frustration due to the lack of questioning their inescapable presence. The series consists of photographs made in my hometown, Twentynine Palms, CA; in Chicago, IL; and in other small and medium cities located in the Southeast and Midwest. I plan to photograph in each state.

How do you think growing up in a place so highly charged with military messages influenced you?

For sure it dictated my visual language, my personal politics, my sense of self, and my perception of patriotism and American culture. It was something I passively thought about while growing up. I knew it was not necessarily common to grow up around tanks, etc., but it was my home. It is odd to grasp that the place I grew up in is such a controversial topic. My experience of living in that community is the basis of my reverence for what I now photograph and contributes to why I am obsessed with highly charged issues.

The events of 9/11 completely challenged my perception of the place I lived in and of the military. I was in 10th grade and also too young to remember the effect The Gulf War had. My only memory is going to greet my dad when he returned home. My home was again an active site for conflict and loss, instead of a place in preparation for some event that could hypothetically never happen. Twentynine Palms is a United States Marine Corps training base with a climate similar to that of Afghanistan and Iraq; the base facilitated pre-deployment training during Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF). The significance of this place will never leave me.

I was also raised in a different way than children with military parents typically are: one, my parents are both Marines (Once a Marine, Always a Marine); secondly, joining the military is usually a family tradition, but my sister and I learned the ideologies that are present in military culture without the objective of following in that tradition.

Why did you choose After Eisenhower as the title of your series?

My work is about the affect and effect the ‘military industrial complex’ has on culture. The term was popularized by President Dwight D. Eisenhower when he used it in his 1961 Presidential Farewell Address. I struggled for a while trying to find a title that represented enough elements in my project; when I reread Eisenhower’s speech these lines stuck out: “This conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience. The total influence—economic, political, even spiritual—is felt in every city, every statehouse, every office of the federal government.” This is basically what my project is about. Eisenhower made a mark during this specific moment because he foresaw what the implications of the growing military power would have on culture. ‘We’ are in the time after this warning and military power has continued to increase exponentially since.

Can you describe your approach to the work, and what did you want your images to communicate?

In 2009, I started photographing and engaging with what characterizes my hometown of Twentynine Palms. The community is directly engaged and economically supported by the military. I made lists of what defines a place by treating it as a typological study of military towns: tattoo shops, barber shop, churches, car dealerships, murals, flags, tailor shops, and also what ideals and socio-economic structures are present. I was interested in how proximity to a specific institution affects the culture of the surrounding community. This is not limited to military bases. I found a correlation in the likes of college towns and beach towns—they have a similar ‘feel.’ This is the basis of how I approach what I photograph: I defined my vernacular within known iconography and symbolism. The task is how to confront what is ‘known’ and also how do you photograph an ideology? My goal is to find the best examples and photograph them to the best of my ability. The context of the environment of these symbols is vital. I may place a flag in the center of an image; however, the way I choose to frame a scene is very intentional. I genuinely love the spaces I photograph, even if the symbolism is complicated.

Catholic churches and other Catholic religious signs come up in several of the After Eisenhower photographs. How do Catholicism and military ideals coexist in Middle America?

Religious iconography permeates American society. It is hard to dissociate military, religion, and America because of how linked they are.

Did you have any specific references or sources of inspiration in mind while working on After Eisenhower?

Roy Stryker’s shooting scripts for the Farm Security Administration (FSA) photographers from the 1930s and early 1940s when they surveyed Depression-era America. Contemporary examples are Larry Sultan’s ‘ideas for photographs’ and Alec Soth’s ‘hunting lists.’ Also, my guilty, but not so guilty pleasure, Internet comments responding to political articles on Facebook.

How do you hope viewers react to After Eisenhower, ideally?

We all come from our biases. The work is not neutral. I do not want to alienate opposing perceptions on the already charged subject matter intentionally. I want conversations to start about how I chose to frame a specific scene and how that confronts the viewer’s identity.

What have been the main influences on your photography?

Deborah Willis, An-My Lê, Robert Adams, Gordon Parks, Alec Soth, Tim Hetherington, and my professors at CSULB and Columbia College Chicago.

Who are some of your favorite contemporary photographers?

An-My Lê, Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin, Trevor Paglen, Zanele Muholi.

Choose your #threewordsforphotography.

Perspective. Perception. Specificity.

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[char27martin]

John Sibley Williams: Poet Interview

Please join me in welcoming John Sibley Williams to the Poetic Asides blog!

John Sibley Williams

John Sibley Williams is the editor of two Northwest poetry anthologies and the author of nine collections, including Disinheritance and Controlled Hallucinations. A seven-time Pushcart nominee, John is the winner of numerous awards, including the Philip Booth Award, American Literary Review Poetry Contest, Nancy D. Hargrove Editors’ Prize, Confrontation Poetry Prize, and Vallum Award for Poetry.

He serves as editor of The Inflectionist Review and works as a literary agent. Previous publishing credits include: The Yale Review, Midwest Quarterly, Sycamore Review, The Massachusetts Review, Poet Lore, Saranac Review, Arts & Letters, Columbia Poetry Review, Mid-American Review, Poetry Northwest, Third Coast, Baltimore Review, RHINO, and various anthologies. He lives in Portland, Oregon.

Learn more here.

Here’s a poem I really enjoyed from his collection Disinheritance:

November Country, by John Sibley Williams

My grandfather digs a double plot with his bare hands in case winter can be shared though he knows grandmother will outlive her heart’s thaw by a decade. I could give him a shovel. Instead

I ball the half-frozen river’s slack numb around my fist, tighten into ice. I will try to be less hard next time. Here in the gray and two-dimensional house we know the answer to rain.

A perforated black arrow of birds moves southward, array. Shrill reports from every side and from the sky the trajectory of abandonment.

Our surfaces are like the river. Our circles have learned to grow edges and crack. Even the birds we compare ourselves to

have left us.

*****

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Click to continue.

*****

What are you currently up to?

Apart from being a new father of twins, which, along with writing, sort of defines me now, I’ve just completed two full-length poetry manuscripts that I’m submitting to various contests and publishers.

Skin Memory is an amalgam of free verse and prose poetry that focuses on bodies—human, animal, celestial, landscape—and how they affect each other. Keeping the Old World Lit is a tightly structured set of poems that explores our relationship with history, nostalgia, and cultural and personal regret.

I loved reading Disinheritance. How did you go about getting this collection published?

Thanks so much! I really appreciate that. Disinheritance was a bit more personal, more intimate, than most of my work, so there was a greater emotional risk when introducing it to the world. I’m genuinely touched when someone tells me it resonated with them.

Luckily, the publication process was quite simple. Although I experienced the usual and expected rejections from a few contests and major publishers, Apprentice House Press took it on within a few months of the manuscript’s completion. I wish I had a powerful or inspiring story to share here, but Disinheritance came together easily and found a publisher fairly quickly.

You’re the author of nine poetry collections. Do they get easier or harder as you go along?

Not to sound coy, but both.

Putting together my earlier chapbooks felt like a simpler process, but that’s likely because each was a unique entity with poems written to work together toward the same goals. Those earlier poems were envisioned as short collections. Also, and perhaps more importantly, back then I hadn’t really studied how other poets structure their books.

There’s a true art to making 50, 80, 100 poems read fluidly. There are so many interesting techniques one can employ to create threads for the reader to follow throughout an entire collection. And there is so much culling, so much editing, so many lovely poems that must fall to the cutting room floor for the sake of overall consistency and flow.

So the process of organizing a book has become almost as complex as the writing itself, though it’s also become far more fun and rewarding.

For the individual poems, do you have a submission routine?

Absolutely, and a rather strict one.

It’s taken me years of research and reading hundreds of magazines to create a thorough spreadsheet for my individual poem submissions. I keep notes on their changing editorial focuses and open submission windows. I do my best to match each poem with a few magazines that I feel might enjoy them.

And I track all submissions so that every poem I truly believe in is submitted to around five magazines at a time. It’s a time-consuming process, taking up at least a third of my creative time each week, but it’s worth it.

As a follow up, do you have a writing routine you try to keep?

I became the father of twins about six months ago, so I’m now carving out new, flexible routines that balance writing with life’s many other joyful responsibilities. I still write daily, though usually in fragments, in stolen moments, taking notes that will, hopefully, band together into poems.

I’m currently able to set aside about three days each week for true composition. To balance with the babies’ schedule, I tend to write for a few hours each weekend morning, just after dawn, and I’ve tweaked my full-time work hours a bit to allow me one or two afternoons of writing time.

As to the where of writing, when the notoriously rainy Oregon weather allows it, I prefer to write outside, in open-aired cafes or a nearby park that runs along the southern banks of the Willamette River.

One poet nobody knows but should. Who is it?

I shouldn’t assume what poets readers are or are not already familiar with, but one of my favorite books from last year that didn’t seem to make any of the Best of 2016 lists is Ramshackle Ode, by Keith Leonard. Admittedly, it was published by Mariner Books, so not exactly an unknown press, but I haven’t noticed much buzz in the poetry community about this incredible collection.

Each poem paints a fragile yet stubbornly persistent world, and somehow Leonard manages to both celebrate and eulogize life with a natural grace that feels so intimate, so familiar.

If you could pass along only one piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

There’s a reason “keep writing, keep reading” has become clichéd advice for emerging writers; it’s absolutely true. You need to study as many books as possible from authors of various genres and from various countries. Listen to their voices. Watch how they manipulate and celebrate language. Delve deep into their themes and take notes on the stylistic, structural, and linguistic tools they employ.

And never, ever stop writing. Write every free moment you have. Bring a notebook and pen everywhere you go (and I mean everywhere). It’s okay if you’re only taking notes. Notes are critical. It’s okay if that first book doesn’t find a publisher. There will be more books to come. And it’s okay if those first poems aren’t all that great. You have a lifetime to grow as a writer.

Do we write to be cool, to be popular, to make money? We write because we have to, because we love crafting poems, because stringing words together into meaning is one of life’s true joys. So rejections are par for the course. Writing poems or stories that just aren��t as strong as they could be is par for the course. But we must all retain that burning passion for language and storytelling. That flame is what keeps us maturing as writers.

*****

Robert Lee Brewer is the editor of Poet’s Market and author of Solving the World’s Problems. Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

*****

Check out these other poetic posts:

Amorak Huey: Poet Interview.

20 Best Tips for Poets.

WD Poetic Form Challenge: Clogyrnach.

The post John Sibley Williams: Poet Interview appeared first on WritersDigest.com.

from Writing Editor Blogs – WritersDigest.com http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/john-sibley-williams-poet-interview

[assa-nisi-massa]

adminAfter Eisenhower — Jasmine Clark Explores the Impact of Military Culture on American Society

Hello Jasmine, thank you for this interview. What are your main interests as a photographer?

A photograph’s function as a ‘document’ or ‘evidence’ to mark a particular time, place, event, and/or context—political or emotional, objective or subjective. I use photographs as devices to articulate when words fail, which happens often; to help convey something I can’t verbalize.

Please introduce us to After Eisenhower.

The photographs are influenced by my upbringing in a United States Marine Corps community in Twentynine Palms, California. Protection of others, protection of the flag, and patriotism are the ideals that stick with me. However, I question military and its role in American life and my own. American culture is inseparable from military and religious identity: the iconography of these elements, like the American flag or the cross, are ubiquitous in American society. The project comes from my curiosity and frustration due to the lack of questioning their inescapable presence. The series consists of photographs made in my hometown, Twentynine Palms, CA; in Chicago, IL; and in other small and medium cities located in the Southeast and Midwest. I plan to photograph in each state.

How do you think growing up in a place so highly charged with military messages influenced you?

For sure it dictated my visual language, my personal politics, my sense of self, and my perception of patriotism and American culture. It was something I passively thought about while growing up. I knew it was not necessarily common to grow up around tanks, etc., but it was my home. It is odd to grasp that the place I grew up in is such a controversial topic. My experience of living in that community is the basis of my reverence for what I now photograph and contributes to why I am obsessed with highly charged issues.

The events of 9/11 completely challenged my perception of the place I lived in and of the military. I was in 10th grade and also too young to remember the effect The Gulf War had. My only memory is going to greet my dad when he returned home. My home was again an active site for conflict and loss, instead of a place in preparation for some event that could hypothetically never happen. Twentynine Palms is a United States Marine Corps training base with a climate similar to that of Afghanistan and Iraq; the base facilitated pre-deployment training during Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF). The significance of this place will never leave me.

I was also raised in a different way than children with military parents typically are: one, my parents are both Marines (Once a Marine, Always a Marine); secondly, joining the military is usually a family tradition, but my sister and I learned the ideologies that are present in military culture without the objective of following in that tradition.

Why did you choose After Eisenhower as the title of your series?

My work is about the affect and effect the ‘military industrial complex’ has on culture. The term was popularized by President Dwight D. Eisenhower when he used it in his 1961 Presidential Farewell Address. I struggled for a while trying to find a title that represented enough elements in my project; when I reread Eisenhower’s speech these lines stuck out: “This conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience. The total influence—economic, political, even spiritual—is felt in every city, every statehouse, every office of the federal government.” This is basically what my project is about. Eisenhower made a mark during this specific moment because he foresaw what the implications of the growing military power would have on culture. ‘We’ are in the time after this warning and military power has continued to increase exponentially since.

Can you describe your approach to the work, and what did you want your images to communicate?

In 2009, I started photographing and engaging with what characterizes my hometown of Twentynine Palms. The community is directly engaged and economically supported by the military. I made lists of what defines a place by treating it as a typological study of military towns: tattoo shops, barber shop, churches, car dealerships, murals, flags, tailor shops, and also what ideals and socio-economic structures are present. I was interested in how proximity to a specific institution affects the culture of the surrounding community. This is not limited to military bases. I found a correlation in the likes of college towns and beach towns—they have a similar ‘feel.’ This is the basis of how I approach what I photograph: I defined my vernacular within known iconography and symbolism. The task is how to confront what is ‘known’ and also how do you photograph an ideology? My goal is to find the best examples and photograph them to the best of my ability. The context of the environment of these symbols is vital. I may place a flag in the center of an image; however, the way I choose to frame a scene is very intentional. I genuinely love the spaces I photograph, even if the symbolism is complicated.

Catholic churches and other Catholic religious signs come up in several of the After Eisenhower photographs. How do Catholicism and military ideals coexist in Middle America?

Religious iconography permeates American society. It is hard to dissociate military, religion, and America because of how linked they are.

Did you have any specific references or sources of inspiration in mind while working on After Eisenhower?

Roy Stryker’s shooting scripts for the Farm Security Administration (FSA) photographers from the 1930s and early 1940s when they surveyed Depression-era America. Contemporary examples are Larry Sultan’s ‘ideas for photographs’ and Alec Soth’s ‘hunting lists.’ Also, my guilty, but not so guilty pleasure, Internet comments responding to political articles on Facebook.

How do you hope viewers react to After Eisenhower, ideally?

We all come from our biases. The work is not neutral. I do not want to alienate opposing perceptions on the already charged subject matter intentionally. I want conversations to start about how I chose to frame a specific scene and how that confronts the viewer’s identity.

What have been the main influences on your photography?

Deborah Willis, An-My Lê, Robert Adams, Gordon Parks, Alec Soth, Tim Hetherington, and my professors at CSULB and Columbia College Chicago.

Who are some of your favorite contemporary photographers?

An-My Lê, Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin, Trevor Paglen, Zanele Muholi.

Choose your #threewordsforphotography.

Perspective. Perception. Specificity.

admin via Blogger http://ift.tt/2nNEnDL